Chapter V (3)

"Come here!" she called, "come, see what I've found," and she held up a five-dollar gold piece before Madge's delighted eyes.

"Oh, mother, darling!" screamed Madge, "where did it come from?"

"What's the matter? Let me out!" yelled Billy from the depths of the closet; "let me out! What's the matter?"

Madge rushed over to the closet, but in her excitement found it difficult to turn the key.

"What's it all about?" cried Billy.

"Oh, Billy," gasped Madge, as she twisted and turned the handle, "what do you think? Mother has found a five-dollar gold piece!"

"Goodness me!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitcomb, after the noise and excitement had subsided, "how in the world I ever forgot that I put that money away for safe keeping in that little box years ago is beyond me. But I did, and it isn't a dream!"

"No, indeed, mother!" cried Madge, pinching the gold piece, "it's as real as can be!"

"Let's all go down to the village and get the dinner things," suggested Billy.

By the time the celery and vegetables, the nuts and raisins, together with the big, fat turkey, were safely packed, the basket was fairly bulging over.

"Oh, what a feast we'll have tomorrow," gasped Madge. They set the heavy basket down before the mantel-piece, as mother closed the outer door and came in. "What a jolly dinner! I'm so glad Billy and I got to talking before going to bed. Wasn't it lucky I remembered that story?"

"Yes, indeed," answered mother, smiling away, as she unpacked the basket and stowed away all the good things in safe places until the next day.

"Just like a play," volunteered Billy, "with me as the hero!"

"With Madge as the author," said mother.

"Right you are, mother dear," answered Billy, "only without the great acting on the hero's part there would never have been any success to the play. That closet wasn't such a joke after all!"

"No, indeed," laughed Madge, "you shall have the wishbone for your reward, Mr. Hero Actor."

A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY

Wednesday

_I love her on a Wednesday
When she kneads the snowy dough,
For the dimples in her elbows
Make such a pretty show._

Wednesday, as soon as I get back from school, if cook is making bread I beg her to let me have some of the dough, and then Dolly sits by me while I make it into all sorts of pretty little cakes and things, and put it in the oven in the stove--I mean, of course, the doll house stove, for the kitchen is all fitted up with everything just like a real kitchen. There is a big dresser, and shelves full of tin pans, and crockery. There is a cunning, little towel on a wooden roller, and a sink with faucets, and real water. The range is heated by electricity and really cooks the cakes, only Dolly and I don't eat them, for mother says our cook's are better, so we eat little pieces of cookies instead.

Of course, if it is a nice day, I go out to the park on my roller skates, or take my hoop, but I usually get time before I go to help Dolly with her household duties.

_The Man in the Moon,
Came down too soon,
And asked his way to Norwich.
In his crescent machine,
Made of cheese so green,
He drove off after his porridge._

HOW JAMIE PLAYED TROUBADOUR

Jamie had received a violin for Christmas, much to his delight, for he was very fond of music and wanted to learn to play the violin more than any instrument he could think of--even his big drum, which sometimes he would beat with all his might after a long, long lesson on his violin.

When New Year's Day came he made up his mind that he would make believe he was a little troubadour. So he tucked his beloved violin under his arm and set gaily forth. On the next block lived a little girl named Rosalie, of whom Jamie was very fond. When he reached the house in which she lived, he stopped before the big parlor window which was quite close to the sidewalk, and, taking his violin from under his arm, commenced to play. Very soon, who should come to the window but little Rosalie herself, and as soon as she saw Jamie she opened the window and leaned out.

"Why, Jamie," she cried, "are you playing for money?"

"No," replied Jamie, quite indignantly, "I'm playing for _you_."

"How lovely," answered Rosalie, "and how beautifully you play!"

Jamie's face became quite red when she said this, and he almost made a mistake in the music. But he kept on playing, and very soon there was quite a crowd around him. Just then an old gentleman said, "Look out, little Juliet--you may catch cold!"

"Why, it's Grandpapa," cried Rosalie, and in another minute he and Rosalie were pulling the little musician and his beloved violin into the house, where they all had a merry New Year's afternoon, with cake and ice cream.

FRIENDS OF OURS

When did human beings first begin to love dogs? So long ago that we have forgotten just when it all started, but some of the oldest writers and artists whose works have been preserved up to the present time have left us words or pictures which show that the dog is a very ancient friend of man.

Little Egyptian boys and girls, playing on the banks of the Nile, probably loved their dogs as well as Brooklyn children love theirs. In that old country the dog was particularly well liked, and it is said that when a family dog died all the people of the household shaved themselves. This was an expression of mourning, and was a mark of respect for the dog.

Egyptians had a special reason for honoring the animal which has always been used as a symbol of faithfulness. In lower Egypt the prosperity of the people depended upon the Nile River. Every year it overflowed its banks, giving the dry land a much needed drink and making possible the raising of different crops. The people watched for the overflow with great anxiety, fearing that it would not take place. At the time of year when the overflow was due a certain star appeared in the sky, which we know as Sirius. When they saw that the Egyptians drove their cattle to high pastures and left the lowland to be watered by the river. In time the people began to associate the constant appearance of the star with the overflow which meant so much to them, and they began to think that the star watched over them, as a good dog watches the home of its master. So they called the star the "Dog Star" and worshipped it, and also lavished a great deal of love on all.

LITTLE STORIES OF FAMOUS ANIMALS

How a Cow Set Fire to a Big City

It is said that Nero, when he was Emperor of Rome, set fire to the city, and watched the flames from a high tower, while he sang to his lyre verses on the burning of Troy. He then laid the blame on the Christians, whom he persecuted with great cruelty. Afterwards he rebuilt the ruined portion of Rome with great magnificence, erecting a beautiful palace for himself on the Palatine Hill, which was called Nero's golden house.

This was all very long ago, for he killed himself with a dagger in the year 68 when, after many cruel deeds, the Senate condemned him to death.

In 1871 there lived in Chicago, Illinois, a woman named Annie O'Leary who has since become known throughout the country as the owner of the cow that set fire to Chicago. One evening this cow, while being milked, became unruly, and kicked over a kerosene lamp. Soon the whole city of Chicago was in flames and Mrs. O'Leary's cow probably rang her cowbell quite as frantically as did the Emperor Nero complacently fiddle while his beautiful city was burning.

Though Chicago was destroyed by one of the most terrible fires in the world, the city was rebuilt in a year or two, even better than before. Prior to the fire, it was one of the newest cities in the country, for in 1830 there were only a few families there besides the soldiers in the fort which Uncle Sam had built in 1804.

So you see the people were not discouraged, although Mrs. O'Leary's cow had burned up their beautiful city.

THE MILKY WAY

When nursey bids me drink my milk
It gurgles down my throat
Just like the gurgle of the waves
Beneath a sailing boat.

COASTING

Hip-hurrah! away they go
Gliding over the glittering snow,
Down the hill at a furious rate,
Over the lawn and out through the gate.
Jimmy in front is squeezed pretty tight,
But what does he care,--he's safe all right!
Billy, the motorman, guides the wheel
Which steers the sled on its runners of steel.
Flossie is cuddled up next to Bill,
And last on the sled is Sister Jill.
Hip-hurrah! as on they glide,
Isn't it lots of fun to slide?
Up again to the top of the hill
Dragging the sled for Motorman Bill.
Then once more they get into place,
All aboard! for another race.
What is more fun I'd like to know
Than coasting over the glittering snow.

A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY

Thursday

_I love her on a Thursday
When she darns a gap that shows
In the sombre socks of Father
Or Brother's careless hose._

Thursday, Mother teaches me how to mend. She says that every little girl should know these things. Father gives me a penny for every hole I mend in his socks, and brother Jack gives me little presents; once he gave me a whole set of furniture which he had cut out with his fretsaw.

There is one nice thing about Dolly--she very seldom has a hole in her stocking. If she did, I hardly know what I would do, for Father and Jack keep me pretty busy--at least, Mother laughs and says they do. Learning all the accomplishments of a grown-up woman is pretty hard work, and, really, I often wonder how I'll ever get any time for play in the park. Mother, however, finishes lots of my duties so that I shan't miss my regular hours in the open air with my friends.

LITTLE SIR CAT

Little Sir Cat and Mary in the Garden

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?"
Sang Little Sir Cat
As he doffed his hat
To the cockle-shells all in a row._

It was a lovely garden, full of flowers and shrubs, and in one corner was a little girl playing with pretty shells on a pile of sand.

"Come in and play with me," she said. So he jumped over the garden wall, but he didn't stay very long, for he wished to find his fortune, you know.

Well, after a while, as he journeyed on he came to a bridge, and, all of a sudden, whom should he meet but Sir Launcelot of the Lake, that noble knight whom you remember he had met a long time ago. And when Sir Launcelot had reined in his great charger he cried out in a loud voice:

"Come with me, Kitten!" So Little Sir Cat sprang up lightly behind the noble knight and together they rode across the bridge and out upon the King's Highway. And after they had gone for many miles, they came across Little Miss Muffet who sat on a tuffet. But this time she wasn't running away from the big cruel spider who had sat down beside her.

"Whither are you bound, little maid?" asked the knight. And then without waiting for an answer he leaned over and lifted her up into the saddle beside Little Sir Kitten. And wasn't she glad to see our little traveler again? Well, if you had only been there you would have laughed with joy, for she was so happy that she hugged him again and again.

After a while they came to an old mill where the rusty, dusty miller ground the corn for the farmers. "Please let me down here," said little Miss Muffet, "for mother asked me to bring home some meal." So the kind knight pulled in his great steed and Little Miss Muffet ran into the mill.

But Sir Launcelot didn't wait, for he wasn't going back, you see, so he and Little Sir Cat called out good-by and went upon their way. And the sun shone down and glittered on the bright armor of the noble knight and pussy cat felt very proud to be riding with him.

"You shall go with me to King Arthur's Court," said Sir Launcelot, "for little friend Tom Thumb is with my good king and he has told all the knights what a good comrade you are."

Towards evening, they came to the Court of King Arthur where all the knights were eating their evening meal at the great round table. But when they heard the hoof beats of Sir Launcelot's great horse, they ran outside to greet him. Little Sir Kitten was taken into the great dining hall and placed on the right hand of King Arthur and merry was the feast that followed, for they had all heard of brave Little Sir Cat and loved him and Mother Goose, although they had grown up to be great strong knights.

And pretty soon you will find another story--unless--

_The friendly clock upon the wall
Should strike out three times playing ball._

LILY'S CIRCUS

Captain Morton was an officer in the United States Army and for many years had lived in the far west--that wonderful country where the sun blazes down upon miles of grassy prairie, undulating to the horizon as if it were a great heaving sea, the little hillocks rising like dark waves upon its surface.

Over those vast plains roved the Indians, hunting antelopes, wolves, etc. At these times the "red man" looks his best; mounted on his swift pony, his gaudy blanket and bright feathers gleaming in the sunshine, his long black hair streaming in the wind, he seems truly the "noble savage."

To control these savages, soldiers were needed on the plains, to prevent war parties from dashing into little frontier villages, stealing horses and cattle, burning barns and houses and murdering the people who were trying to cultivate the prairies, to turn the great plains of dry, burnt grass into fields of wheat and beautiful green meadows.

All Indians are not wicked; but the tribe near which Captain Morton was stationed was extremely wild and cruel, and refused to live on friendly terms with white people.

All day and all night the "tom-tom," or big drum, was being beaten by the Indians; for the time I am telling you of was just after that dreadful battle, when the great Indian chief, Sitting Bull, killed brave General Custer and half of his noble regiment of cavalry. This success had made all the other Indians very fierce and restless, and the small garrison of which Captain Morton had command were kept busy day and night ready for attack.

But Lily, Captain Morton's little daughter, did not trouble herself about danger. She was not allowed to go out of the garrison inclosure, but she played with her chickens and her little pony, which her father had bought and trained for her. Its name was Tecumseh Sherman, after the general of the army, but Lily called it Tic for short. It soon followed her in and out of the log house and wherever she went, and showed a most decided liking for anything of a red color. When Lily wore a red dress, Tic would take a fold in his mouth and pull her about, and even knock her down in his play, for he never meant to hurt her. In the evening Lily's little sidesaddle was put on Tic, and she would gallop over the prairie with her father.

One morning Lily rushed into the house calling out:

"Mama, mama, here's a circus! Come and see! It's right outside the door!"

Sure enough, just outside the garrison was a great crowd of gayly dressed people, and near the front were six girls mounted on ponies, the saddles beautifully embroidered with beads, and fine large umbrellas over their heads made of red, white and blue cloth. These were princesses, daughters of the great chief of the tribe. Lily ever after talked of them as the "six Pocahontases."

A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY

Friday

_I love her on a Friday
When the house is upside down
And her golden hair is muffled
In a twisted turban brown._

Friday is the last of school for the week, and Saturday is coming. There are two reasons why I like Friday. One is that it is the last day of school week, and the other--because tomorrow is Saturday.

I do just about the same things on Friday, that is, school as usual, and then a romp or walk in the park, rolling my hoop or skating on my rollers. But at home I'm very busy. It's doll's house cleaning day, and oh, dear me! I have to brush it out from attic to kitchen. It is a lot of work, for all the rooms have carpets or hardwood floors with little rugs, and everything must be dusted thoroughly. I do my hair up just as regular grown-up cleaners do, and by and by Dolly's house is all done. For a little girl it is hard work, and Mother says she thinks I will make a fine housekeeper when I grow up. I hope I won't get another doll's house next Christmas, for I don't see how I could run two houses at once.

LILY AND THE PAPOOSE

"This is 'Annuity Day,' Lily," said her father. "Get your hat and we will go and see the Indians get their clothes and provisions for the next year."

"What is 'Annuity'?" asked Lily. "Is it Indian for birthday?"

"Well, yes, it is sort of a birthday, for the United States Government gives a good many presents that day to the Indians--food and clothes for the men, women and children for a whole year."

"Well, let's go," said Lily, "and I'll just touch one of those papooses with my own hand if I get near enough. I think they are just dolls. No real, live baby would stay quiet tied on a board and fastened up all in a bunch to its mother's back. They do wink their eyes, that's certain; but I can make my Rosy wink her eyes, too, only I have to pull a wire to get her to shut them."

So off started Lily with her papa, and soon they came to an open space, in the center of which was a great pile of blankets, clothing, bacon, flour, corn, coffee, sugar, tobacco and many other things which good Uncle Sam gives once a year to his "wards," the Indians. Around this pile of things sat a large circle of Indians, men, women and children. The men were, as a general rule, well dressed in tight leggins, with strips of gay bead embroidery down the sides; deerskin or calico shirts fringed with tiny bells and tassels of colored worsted and bright feathers in their scalp locks. The women wore flannel pantaloons and a single calico slip, and a blanket drawn over their heads.

Many of these wild people had never seen a little white girl before. They gazed at Lily's fair skin and long bright hair with great interest. One old man wrapped in a buffalo robe advanced waving his covering like some immense bird flapping its wings. When he got near Lily he stood still, saying:

"Washta papoose! Washta papoose!" (Pretty child! Pretty child!) and held out his hand, saying: "Howe-howe?" (How do you do?)

And now Lily found a good opportunity to decide whether the funny little objects on the Indian women's backs were dolls or "really babies."

While the Indian agent and his clerks were busily distributing the "annuities," giving to the chief of each band the allowance for himself and his family, Lily went up very close to the squaw who had a black-eyed bundle tied upon her back, and stood for several minutes absorbed in contemplation.

"Is that a real, live baby, ma'am, or a doll you keep for your little girl?" asked Lily very politely.

The squaw, of course, did not understand a word she said, and only responded: "Ugh! Howe! Washta papoose!" as a general expression of her good will. So Lily presently put out her hand very softly and touched the bundle.

What a scream! Even the dignified chiefs turned their plumed heads to find out what the cause of the noise could be.

There was the papoose shrieking on its mother's back, proving most positively its claim to be considered a "real, live baby," and there was a drop of bright red blood on its little brown arm. Lily had stuck a pin in the Indian baby to find out if it was alive or not.

Poor little girl! She stood frightened and trembling, crimson blushes on her cheeks, and two great tears just brimming over her eyes. Not until she had made a peace offering of candy to the baby, and left it contentedly sucking away at a peppermint stick, could she be consoled and interested once more in the strange scenes around her.

_There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children
She didn't know what to do.
But she mounted the shoe
On a big motor car,
And now there is room
For them all without jar._

LITTLE SIR CAT

Little Sir Cat Meets Jack and Jill

_Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down
And broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after._

As Little Sir Cat came to a pretty cottage, a yellow bird sang this Old Mother Goose song. And just then a little girl and boy ran out of the front door, and said:

"Mother, come see a cat with red top boots!"

"Don't wait, children. Get me a pail of water, for father will be home soon for dinner."

_So Jack and Jill
Went up the hill
But, oh, dear me, I hate to tell
They spilt the water when they fell._

And poor Little Sir Cat's boots were spattered all over. But he didn't care, for the big warm sun soon dried them, and he set off once again on his journey through Mother Goose Country, and by-and-by he came to a giant's castle on a big high mountain.

"Come in," said the great big man. "You can sleep in my fur cap--it will make you a fine bed."

When Little Sir Cat woke up in the morning the sun was shining through the window and it was time to get up. So he hurriedly dressed, for he didn't know what time the Giant had breakfast and he didn't dare be late, and ran down to the dining room, where the Giant was just about to eat his buckwheat cakes and maple syrup. After they had finished, the Giant took him out to the stables and showed him all his horses. "I have a very small horse which I will give you," he said, and he led Little Sir Cat into another stable. There stood Dapple Gray, only, of course, he seemed like a little toy to the Giant, for his other horses were all giant horses, you see. And wasn't Sir Cat glad to see the little pony? Well, I guess he was, for he was tired walking and one of his boots had a hole in the toe.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you, little master," whinnied Dapple Gray, as Little Sir Cat untied the halter and jumped on his back.

Well, after a while as he rode down the mountain he came to a little cottage all covered with climbing rose vines. In this cottage lived a shepherd and his wife who tended the sheep in the big meadow close by. "Are they little Bo Peep's?" asked Little Sir Cat; but the kind-faced shepherd said no, so Little Sir Cat rode on, and pretty soon you will hear what happened to the poor Lady Bug, _unless_

_The Sun tomorrow morning
Should go upon a strike,
And want a penny extra
To do his daily hike!_

A BELL TALE

There was an old sheep
With a bell on his tail.
It rang with a clatter
And clanged with a wail.

Whenever that poor little sheep
Hove in sight
The birds and the beasts
Disappeared in a fright.

HOW A TORTOISE KILLED A GREAT POET

There was once a boy in olden times who dreamed that he could write verses, and the dream came true, and he became a very famous writer. And the way it happened was that this boy, whose name was Æschylus, fell asleep one day while guarding the grapes in a vineyard. He dreamed that Bacchus, the god of the vine, came and told him that he could write poetry. Immediately he awoke and tried, and to his delight he found out that it was true.

He kept on writing, and afterwards became very famous. In those days prizes were given for the best tragedies, and at the age of 41 he won his first prize. He wrote, also, many wonderful plays, and for many years was esteemed one of the greatest of tragic poets.

When quite an old man, he was sitting in a field, plunged in deep thought. An eagle, which was flying overhead, mistook his bald head for a stone and dropped the tortoise which it was carrying in its claws to break its shell. The force of the blow killed the famous poet and warrior, who had fought in the Battle of Marathon and received great honors for his bravery as well as thirteen prizes for his tragedies. He might have written a great many more if the eagle had not dropped the tortoise.

EASTER ON A FARM

Finding Eggs Is Much Fun, but Hiding Them First Is More Fun

Easter was coming in a week and Donald, Elizabeth and Ruth were going to invite their two cousins to an Easter Egg Hunt.

Their mother had agreed to give them one egg out of every six which they brought in to Mary, their good-natured cook, and it was surprising how many egg nests these industrious little folks discovered in out-of-the-way places around the big barn and the farm buildings.

In fact the family had never been so plentifully supplied with eggs before, and their mother laughingly remarked that she thought it would be a good plan to continue the arrangement indefinitely, to which the children gave their hearty consent.

The day before Easter they had almost two dozen. With the help of their mother they dissolved the various colored powders which they had purchased at the drug store and poured the liquid into several tins. It was great fun boiling the eggs in green water, or yellow water, or blue water, as the case might be, and after they were all done, what a pretty pile of rainbow-colored eggs!

"Old Speckle and Rosy Comb wouldn't know what to make of them now, would they?" remarked little Ruth.

"No," answered Donald, "I wonder if we'd get a pink rooster if this one was hatched!" he added, jokingly, holding up a brilliant carmine egg.

"Well, let's hide them; you hide yours first, Ruth, 'cause you're the youngest. Remember, for goodness sake, where you put them in case we can't find them."

You see, the game was for each one to hide his share, and when all the eggs were hidden they were to invite their two cousins over and everybody was to hunt as fast as he could, except, of course, for his own eggs, so as to get as many as possible, for "findings were keepings."

It took little Ruth quite a while to hide hers. She put a big red egg carefully in the oat bin and covered it over with oats. The next one she put deep down in the bran bin, and then she looked around for another safe place. There was father's old coat hanging on a nail by the harness room. In the pocket nearest her she slipped a green egg carefully lest it fall through a possible hole in the well-worn garment, but the lining was sound and the egg was safe out of sight.

The door of the harness room was ajar. Ruth stepped inside and looked around. The very thing! An old tin can stood half-hidden in the corner behind a pile of rubbish. In went the purple egg, and now she had only two left.

"What shall I do?" said Ruth to herself. Just then an old lantern hanging on the wall met her eyes, and in a moment she had carefully lifted the dingy shade and placed an egg inside. Only one egg was now left, and soon that was tucked away behind an old picture advertising harness, which rested on a beam running along the side of the wall.

"No one must hunt for his own eggs," said Donald. "Then it will be fair for all. All ready!" and away they went.

The two cousins had been told that the barn, the wagon house and the orchard were the places where the eggs were hidden, and in a few minutes a yell was heard in the barn. Dan had discovered Ruth's green egg in the overcoat pocket.

"I've got one!" screamed Ruth from the wagon house, as she pulled out a yellow beauty from under the seat of the old buggy. Then a shout was heard from Donald, and the can in the corner of the harness room gave up its prize.

"Who'll get the last one?" Here and there they ran, looking with the utmost care, but the little egg still defied the hunters. "Let's give up and let Donald have it," they at last agreed, and Donald, proudly marching up to a big cherry tree, from a crotch of a limb just above their reach picked out a red egg, the only one that had resisted successfully all efforts of capture.

WHEN ROBIN RED-BREAST ARRIVES

Everybody loves Robin Redbreast. Who of us in early spring is not gladdened by the sight of this red waistcoated little chap hopping about on the lawn? But few of us stop to think that our robin is totally unlike the English robin, the dear old Robin Redbreast of nursery days; he who covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood and was shot by the Sparrow with his little arrow!

The Redbreast of Europe is only half the size of our robin, being about five inches and three-quarters from the tip of its bill to the end of its tail feathers. Its color is a yellowish olive-brown. The throat and breast are of a reddish orange color, and this gives to him the name of Redbreast.

They remain all the year round, and when the fields and gardens are covered with snow, making it difficult for them to obtain food they come up to the door steps, picking up the crumbs which are thrown to them. When they are well treated they soon become very familiar and make themselves quite at home, entering the cottage door and often roosting confidently over night in the warm kitchens. Their trust and confidence have made friends for them everywhere and they become domestic pets in almost every country in Europe. Their song is sweet and plaintive and is heard from early spring until late in the autumn. In this respect they are very like our own bluebird.

English books of natural history are full of interesting narratives of the beautiful confidence in man shown by the Redbreast in selecting a place for its nest.

Our pair chose for their nest a shelf in a schoolroom in which there were seventy children and directly over the heads of a little class of girls, who never once disturbed them. One of the little birds died and the parents carried out its dead body during school hours. The other four little robins were fed and reared, day by day, in the presence of the seventy children. Do you wonder that the boys and girls of England are so fond of their Robin Redbreast?

The robin of North America belongs to a very different family--that of the thrushes. It is nearly twice the length of the English bird and more than twice its size. Audubon calls it the Migratory Thrush, because it leaves us when winter comes on and does not return until the frost is out of the ground.

Like the robin of Europe, our bird also has a confiding disposition. It builds its nest early in the spring, long before there are any leaves to hide it. It is a devoted parent and when taken sufficiently young is easily tamed and becomes strongly attached to its benefactor.

With the coming of the first robin we feel sure that spring is here. Looking out of the window, we see our little friend with his red breast shining in the sunlight, singing his simple song of faith and hope.

AFTER MOTHER'S SAID GOOD NIGHT

When I'm in bed I feel so small,
And all the shadows seem so tall.
The little light out in the hall
A thin bright line throws on the wall;
It squeezes thro' the crack between
The half-closed door and nursery screen.

And after I have said my prayer
And mother's footstep on the stair
Grows fainter, fainter, fainter, there
Creeps over me a sort of scare;
It prickles me from toe to head
And seems to wiggle all the bed.

But if I cuddle down and keep
Real quiet, and don't kick my feet,
And have the clothes all smooth and neat,
Why, pretty soon I fall asleep;
And then the fairies from their glen
Play with me till it's day again.

LITTLE SIR CAT

The Fire-Engine

_Lady Bug, Lady Bug, fly away home;
Your house is on fire, your children are gone!_

Sang the little yellow bird whose name I shall tell you some day when Little Sir Cat finishes his journey through Mother Goose Country.

And just then the fire engine went by, so he jumped up behind and away they went over a bridge across the River Dee near which the Jolly Miller on his pillow found a flea.

Well, pretty soon they came to a meadow in which a little bush was on fire. And right there close beside it, was the poor Lady Bug flapping her red wings wildly in fear and panic for hidden under the bush were all her little lady bugs.

"Oh, save my children!" she cried.

Little Sir Cat scrambled under the thicket but the brambles kept catching in his boot straps and pulling him back. So he kicked them off, taking care not to burn his bare toes on the hot stubbles, and carefully felt his way through the smoke until he finally reached the nest near the heart of the thicket. There lay all the Lady Bug's children, hundreds of them huddled together, frightened and smothered nearly to death.

"Oh, I hope they are not quite dead," he said, tenderly picking up the smallest one. "But what shall I do now? How can I carry them all out?"

Then, quick as a wink, before the fire reached him, he picked them all up and put them in his hat.

"Hurry, my brave fireman!" called the Mother Lady Bug; "save my treasures."

And in less time than I can take to tell it, he carried them out of danger.

Just then up came Dapple Gray, so Little Sir Cat said good-by and rode away.

By-and-by, he whispered to Dapple Gray, "Yonder stands the lady who rode you far away. Do you want to run right by her, or do you want to stay behind this clump of bushes until she walks away?"

Dapple Gray made no reply. He stood perfectly still and didn't even peek around until the lady was out of sight. So that was answer enough for Little Sir Cat, and he rode off towards a little church, for it was vesper time and the bell was ringing for the people to come to worship. Pretty soon the organ began to play, so he stopped to listen, and so did the stars and the big moon up in the sky. They didn't move, but shone right down on the little white building. After a while he got down and led Dapple Gray into a grove of trees and lay down on some leaves for the night. And pretty soon you shall hear how he and his pony had another adventure,--unless--

_A giant goes down the street for a stroll,
And thinks a peppermint stick is a barber's pole._

There was an old woman lived under a hill
On auto'bile wheels that wouldn't stand still.
So she drove around selling her cranberry pies,--
And she's the old woman who never told lies.

The Little Goose-Girl

Many years ago there lived a little goose-girl named Helena. Every morning at sunrise she left the hut where her mother lived, and trudged away in the midst of her flock of geese. All day long she stayed in the fields with them to see that they did not wander away, and in the evening she brought them back to the village.

The hamlet she lived in was very small, and Helena had the care of all the geese in the place. Ten of the flock belonged to her mother, the rest belonged to the neighbors.

Helena was almost as fat as the fattest goose in her flock. Over her plump, freckled face she wore a flat cap, and her flaxen hair in two long braids down her back. Her waist was black, without any sleeves and opened in the front, while the sleeves of her smock were full and long. Her skirt was very short and full, and plaited all around the waist. In summer she went barefooted, but in winter she wore thick stockings and wooden shoes.

She carried in her hand a long stick, with which to manage her goose family, but she was kind-hearted and never struck them hard. Her little dog, Hero, helped her keep them in order. He was so well trained that when they wandered away, he would bark and snap at them until he frightened them back.

Every morning at sunrise the geese waited in front of the huts for Helena. Amid a great squawking and hissing they were collected from door to door, and when the flock was all gathered, Helena drove them off to the feeding ground, a low flat marshy place, near the river, where they delighted to waddle in the greenish pools and coarse grasses.

Helena had collected a pile of stones on a dry spot which was a little higher than the marshy ground around it, and here she would sit on her throne, like a queen looking over her goose kingdom.

When dinner time came, she would take from a basket a slice of very coarse bread, almost black, a piece of cheese, or a slice of thick, raw sausage. When she had finished eating, she would take from the same basket her spinning, and with her distaff she twirled the thread around and drew it through her fingers. This was the old-fashioned way of spinning, and even now one often sees girls and women with their distaffs spinning in the fields while they watch their cows or sheep or geese.

There were many beautiful flowers growing in the marshy land, and when Helena grew tired of spinning, she gathered violets and forget-me-nots. She would make a wreath of blue lilies and yellow dandelions and hang it about her neck. Sometimes she would make a collar for her dog, and once she made a wreath for a pet gander, but he twisted his long neck and ate up the flowers, at which Helena laughed, showing that she was a happy little girl, although she did have to tend the geese all day.

RISING TIME

Pussy's asleep, and the little gray mouse
Is looking about the quiet house.
But oh, dear me! If Pussy should wake
The little mouse wouldn't get any cake.

FEBRUARY

Dear Boys and Girls--Did it ever occur to you that February is a famous month, for in it were born two of the greatest men that ever lived, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln?

Perhaps the determination of Washington never to allow himself to be discouraged in the face of tremendous difficulties and treachery stands out as one of the biggest factors in his character.

Looking back through history every boy as he gazes on the face of Washington feels a thrill of pride; the Father of His Country, the man who never told a lie, the man who never admitted there was such a word as "fail."

And when we turn to Lincoln, who in the crisis of our country's welfare stood like a rock and brought order out of chaos, preserved the Union, "now and forever," and, with "malice toward none," brought the men of the North and the men of the South under the Stars and Stripes again as brothers--we find the Savior of our Country.

For the boy of to-day two such men as Washington and Lincoln are an inspiration. Human nature was just the same in those days as now--politics were just as corrupt and morals just as bad--but each of those men shone out with the attributes of greatness--courage, honesty and truth.

And for the girl of to-day who realizes how the mothers of those two men gave to this country each a hero; how those mothers by early training and instruction brought their boys up to reverence courage and honesty and truth, there is an inspiration; for the sweetest word that is murmured in the nursery or whispered in prayer on the battlefield is Mother.

LITTLE STORIES OF FAMOUS ANIMALS

How the Geese Saved Rome

The Capitol in the city of Rome was built on a high, steep hill called the Tarpeian Rock. When in 390 B. C. the Gauls entered Rome, after having defeated the Roman Army, most of the citizens fled, except a few who had taken refuge on this steep hill. One very dark night, the Gauls attempted to climb the steepest part and capture the Capitol. The Roman sentinels were all fast asleep, and the enemy had nearly reached the top, when suddenly some geese began to cackle and raise a great hub-bub. The noise awakened a Roman soldier named Marcus Manlius, who rushed out to the spot just in time to throw down the Gauls and save the Capitol.

After this, the Gauls agreed to leave the city for a thousand pounds of gold, but the Romans took so long to weigh it, that Camillus arrived with a big army just in time. "Rome buys her freedom with iron!" he cried, and attacking the Gauls, drove them out in great confusion. But if it hadn't been for the geese, who were wide awake and not sound asleep like the Roman sentinels, Rome would have been captured that dark night by the Gauls.

THE CARNIVAL

Let us make believe we are in Nice during Carnival time and are hastening to the Promenade du Cours, up and down which the procession is to pass.

First, however, I shall buy for you each a little blue gauze mask; for you cannot even peep at Carnival unmasked. And if any of you can wear linen dusters with hoods attached, all the better. Don't leave a square inch of skin unprotected, I warn you.

Besides the little masks, you may buy, each of you, a whole bushel of these "sugar plums," and have them sent to our balcony. Also for each a little tin scoop fastened on a flexible handle, which you are to fill with confetti but on no account to pull--at least, not yet.

The crowds are gathering. Pretty peasant girls in their holiday attire of bright petticoats, laced bodices, and white frilled caps; stray dominoes; richly dressed ladies with mask in hand; carriages so decorated with flowers as to be artistically hidden--even the wheels covered with batiste--blue, pink, purple, green or buff. Even the sidewalk, as we pass, is fringed with chairs at a franc each.

The "Cours" is gay with suspended banners, bright with festooned balconies and merry faces. Sidewalks and streets are filled with people; but the horses have the right of way, and the people are fined if they are run over.

Let us hasten to our balcony, for here passes a band of musicians, in scarlet and gold, to open the procession.

It is "the theater"--an open car of puppets--but the puppets are men; all attached to cords held in the hand of the giant, who sits in imposing state above them on the top of the car which is on a level with the third-story balconies.

The giant lifts his hand and the puppets whirl and jump. But alas! his head is too high. His hat is swept off by the hanging festoons, and the giant must ride bare-headed, in danger of sunstroke.

Next behind the car moves in military order a regiment of mounted grasshoppers. Their sleek, shining bodies of green satin, their gauzy wings and antennae, snub noses and big eyes, are all absolutely perfect to the eye; but--they are of the size of men.

You lower your mask to see more clearly, you are lost in wonder at the perfect illusion, your mouth is wide open with "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" when pop! pop! slings a shower of confetti, and the little hailstones seem to cut off your ears and rush sifting down your neck.

For, while you were watching the grasshoppers, a low open carriage, concealed under a pink and white cover, has stopped under our windows. Four merry masqueraders, cloaked and hooded in hue to match, have a bushel of confetti between them, and are piled with nosegays. We slink behind our masks, we pull the handles of our confetti scoops--then the battle begins and waxes fierce.

But they are crowded on. A colossal stump follows, trailing with mosses and vines. Upon it a bird's nest filled with young, their mouths wide open for food; wonderful, because the artistic skill is so perfect that, although so immense, they seem living and not unnatural.

Up and down the procession sweeps. Up one side the wide "Cours" and down the other; the space within filled with the merry surging crowd, under the feet of the horses it would seem. But no matter. Horses and men and women and children bear a charmed life to-day.

LITTLE STORIES OF FAMOUS ANIMALS

How A Spider Saved Scotland

For several years, Robert Bruce, the hero King of Scotland, was an outlaw with but a few followers. He even had to leave his beloved Scotland at one time, and hide himself on a small island off the coast of Ireland.

He had only a wretched hut to live in, although he was a king, but he was as patient as he was brave, and willing to suffer hardships if he could only free his native land.

While lying on his bed one day, he noticed a spider who was spinning its web. Time after time it failed to run its slender thread from one beam to another. Six times it tried and as many times it failed. This was just the number of battles that Bruce had been defeated by the English.

"If the spider tries again," he said to himself, sitting up on his bed and watching the determined little insect intently, "if the spider tries again, so will I!" Once more the spider tried, and this time with success. Bruce jumped from his bed, and in a few days was back in Scotland.

It was indeed a happy omen, for from that time the tide turned in his favor, and gradually he won back all the cities and castles which the English had conquered. And so Bruce freed Scotland and won back his throne, but if it had not been for the little spider, perhaps he never would have had the heart to attempt it.

LITTLE SIR CAT

Mother Hubbard finds Little Sir Cat at Home

"_Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog a bone,
But when she got there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none._"

"Oh, dear me!" said Little Sir Cat, "that's too bad," and he pulled out a shilling and gave it to Mother Hubbard. And after that he went away and by and by he came to a big circus tent. And while he stood there, a woman came by and stopped to talk to him. For everybody was interested in Little Sir Cat. He rode Dapple Gray as well as a circus man, and there was nothing he couldn't do on horseback, except, perhaps, go to sleep. Well, the woman stopped and looked at him for a few minutes, and then she said:

"_I have a little husband
No bigger than my thumb,
So I put him in a bird cage
And keep him safe at home._"

"Why don't you bring him to the circus?" said Little Sir Cat. "He'll make more money than in a bird cage."

"So he might," said the woman. "I will bring him here this very day," and away she went as fast as she could.

Well, by and by, she returned carrying a leather bag, and when she opened it, who should jump out but Tom Thumb. Wasn't that strange? And, oh, how glad he was to see Little Sir Cat.

"What! Are you old friends?" asked the woman, stretching out her hand to take Tom Thumb.

"She is cruel, don't let her take me," cried the little fellow, and of course Sir Cat didn't, although the woman became very angry.

Well, pretty soon Little Sir Cat turned to her and said with a fierce look, "Leave him with me. He shall be my comrade. You have no right to him," and then he took Tom Thumb into the tent, leaving the woman to do what she might. He didn't care, for he was in the right, and when that is the case, one can be brave even if he is a small cat. And as soon as he told the clown what had happened, he said: "We'll never let her have Tom Thumb. He shall stay with us as long as he likes," and then the lovely circus lady came up and shook hands with him, and everybody said, "Hurrah for Little Sir Cat!"

And pretty soon I'll tell you another story unless

_The Big Red Barn gets frisky
And jumps across the road,
And the buzzy, wuzzy horsefly
Eats up the little toad._

MR. TURKEY DECIDES TO TAKE A DAY OFF

Said the great big Turkey Gobbler
To the little Turkey Turk,
"I guess I'll stay at home today
And not go down to work;

"I have a sort of feeling
That it's wiser not to roam
And that it would be safer
For me to stay at home."

A LITTLE GIRL'S DIARY

Saturday

_I love her on a Saturday
When she and Mother go
Together to a matinee
Or moving picture show._

Saturday is a holiday all the time. In the morning I take a run in the park to get the fresh air and exercise; and then after lunch, Mother and I--oh, it's such fun!--go to a matinee or a motion picture play. When we come out, we have a cup of hot chocolate somewhere, with little cakes or crackers, and it's just lovely! After that, it's time to go home. Dolly is waiting for me, and I tell her all about everything while I undress her and put her to bed, and she is so good she never cries or says: "Why didn't you take me, too?"

LITTLE STORIES OF FAMOUS ANIMALS

How A Horse Founded A City

There was once a horse named Bucephalus whom nobody could ride except his master, the famous Alexander the Great; and the reason was because this horse was afraid of his own shadow. He wasn't afraid of anything else, for he would carry his master into the thickest of the fight without flinching.

In those days every boy was trained to be a warrior, as well as to be proficient in all kinds of knowledge, and as Alexander was a very bright youth and loved reading as well as fighting his father sent for the famous Aristotle to be his teacher, under whose teaching he grew up to be a very fine young man. Every night when Alexander went to bed he placed his favorite book, Homer's "Iliad," under his pillow with his sword. Soon he became very expert in all manly sports and excelled every one at his father's court, especially in riding. But had he not been a very bright and observing youth he never would have been able to ride Bucephalus, notwithstanding his splendid horsemanship.