Chapter III: Part 3

By and by she gave a joyful shout. An old-fashioned, two-seated carriage was coming up the long grassy lane from the big gate opening into the street. Mother Plummer ran to the door with flowery hands to see Patty's Grandmother Pratt getting out of the carriage. Such goodies as grandma always brought from Mill Village when she came to see the Plummers! This time the driver, uncle Dave, lifted out a huge basket of big fresh blackberries and a large newly caught salmon. Patty was not forgotten; grandma never came without something for her little namesake. The last time she brought Patty a pretty plaid gingham; this time the gift was a gay Indian basket full of tiny pats of yellow butter, covered with cool, broad rhubarb leaves.

"O, this is the goodest day that ever I did see!" warbled Patty to the tune of The Battle Hymn of the Republic, as she followed the dear plump old lady into the house. The summer day was as perfect as a day could be. Inside the house everything was sunshiny and cheerful too; and Patty opened her glad heart to take in the pleasure of all things to the uttermost. Grandmother sat in the arm-chair swaying the huge palm-leaf fan as she loosened the ribbon cap strings at her fat white throat, and Patty sat on a cricket beside her in perfect content. They were going to have such a lovely dinner! Tempting pink salmon, mealy new potatoes, blackberries with cream and sugar, and a dainty pie which Patty's eyes spied through the half-open pantry door. A dainty turnover beside it too, on purpose for Patty! Never thought of clouds or showers came into her heart as she sat there softly stroking grandma's gown of silver gray.

"Tinkle, inkle," came the sound of old Daisy's bell from the pasture; and the sound started a new train of glad thoughts. If Charlotte would only come with Lulu Jane, what fun she would have showing the doll to grandma! Grandma always took an interest in her doll babies--even in Augustus with his blue paper trousers!

They were all seated around the dining-table, Patty beside grandma, with the turnover in her hand to keep it from uncle Dave who pretended he was going to eat it, when the back door opened. Patty's heart went pit-a-pat, and she ran out with mother's leave, turnover and all, to meet cousin Charlotte in the dim little entry.

"Here it is," said Charlotte. "I hope you'll be pleased with it; and I must go right back, 'cause I've got to do a big stent o' patchwork 'n help aunt Betsy get supper for comp'ny." Patty took the bundle to the out-door light, and when she opened it, danced and screamed with delight.

"You dear, darling old thing!" she cried, hugging Charlotte so hard she fairly hurt her. "How did you fix her up so nice?" she sat on the doorstep admiring Lulu Jane between bites of turnover while Charlotte flew home like a bird.

The doll had a new smooth white linen face, the head nicely joined at the top instead of being sewn with big black stitches as Patty sewed hers. The face had beet-juice cheeks and black bead eyes, the feet were neatly shod with velvet, and the old gown had been replaced by a pink ruffled one of calico, edged at the neck with a frill of lace. But the crowning glory was a little pink bonnet trimmed with a downy chicken's feather and a tiny spray of snakeberry vine from which hung wee scarlet berries! Patty hugged her treasure closely, and ran to the swing to enjoy it by herself. Uncle Dave was coming, and he might run off with it just to tease her. By and by she ran in to show it to grandma.

"Deary, deary!" said grandma, as she took the dolly from Patty and examined it through her spectacles. "Nice piece o' work, quite a neat little gownd, 'n a bunnit too! Charlotte must be quite tasty."

Grandma held it in her fat hand a minute and then after fumbling in her big pocket she brought out a shining new quarter-dollar.

"Patty," said she, looking down into the wondering eyes of her little granddaughter, "I'd like to buy this pretty doll to take home to your little cousin Bessie Alice. She's coming to spend to-morrow with me and she'll think so much of a doll that came 'way from Mapleton." The cloud had come down over the sun; the gladness of the perfect day was completely darkened by the trial which suddenly loomed up before the child.

"Why, gra'ma!" cried she, the tears flowing fast, "you don't want me to let you have my darling sweety Lulu Jane, when she just got all fixed up new! I never could let her go! Please give her to me, grandma." Grandma placed the precious doll in Patty's arms and said quietly:

"I won't take your doll away if you aren't willing; but I was thinkin' how pleased Bessie Alice would be; you know she's no ma now 'n no Charlotte to make dolls for her like you have. Then you'd have the quarter to help buy you a winter hat, and Charlotte would make you another dolly, I'm sure. But if you aren't willing I'll say no more about it," and she put the bright quarter away in her big pocket again.

"Can I have a little while to think it over?" asked Patty timidly. Her good mother had taught her to think matters over before she decided, and the sight of the money had brought something to her mind. The Sunday-school superintendent had told the children only last Sunday about two good women who had left their homes to teach the poor Labrador children about Jesus. They needed books and papers. Miss Bridgman, Patty's teacher, had asked her class if they could not bring some money next Sunday even if they had to deny themselves of something to get it. Patty thought it all over upstairs. She looked at the beautiful bonnet, the velvet shoes and the pink ruffles, and gave the doll a hard hug as she cried amid falling tears:

"I can't give her to gra'ma, I can't sell her! I wish gra'ma 'd never come! I wish Bessie Alice 'd never been born! That hateful thing! She's got red hair, 'n she did just pinch me awful, once! Oh, dear, _dear_, DEAR! this is the nastiest day I ever did see!" and she threw herself on the trundle bed in a spasm of grief.

Then better thoughts came.

"Why, ain't I a goose! What am I cryin' for? I needn't sell her 'f I don't wan't to! Poor Bessie Alice, I'm awful sorry she's got no mother to tuck her in bed 'n' kiss her! I s'pose Jesus 'd be pleased if I let her have it. I'd rather have Lulu Jane than twenty quarters; but I'd have all that money to take to Miss Bridgman Sunday, 'n that would please Jesus too. And I do want to please Him, I'm sure! Of course Charlotte would make me another! She's such a '_genius_ girl, mother says. I'll go right away 'n give dolly to gra'ma. I'm goin' to sell it to you," handing the fine lady to Grandmother Pratt. "I want the money for the missionaries, 'n I do pity Bessie Alice. Put her away quick, so I won't want her again," said Patty, dancing away with the quarter in her hand.

"You are a darlin' child, cert'in," said grandma, looking fondly after her.

"Well, this has been the queerest day!" said little Patty as she sat on the doorstep that night watching the old carriage roll away toward Mill Village. "I'd like to have Lulu Jane to play with, 'n' I don't know what Charlotte'll say; but I b'leeve I feel happier now than I did this mornin', 'n I was happy then 's I could be!"

GUSSIE M. WATERMAN.

HARRY'S SACRIFICE.

"SELL Jack! No, indeed, not for any money!"

Harry Danvers responded to Colonel Bates' offer almost indignantly.

"It is a good offer for the dog," continued the colonel, "more than he is really worth, but Frank has taken a fancy to him, and to gratify him I am willing to give a good price."

"No, sir; I shall want money worse than I ever have yet when I part with Jack. Thank you for the offer, but I cannot sell my dog."

"That is a foolish boy," said the colonel, turning to a friend as Harry went off down the street whistling to his dog; "I made him a good offer. You know my boy Frank is an invalid, and it was to gratify a whim of his that I offered the boy twice the worth of the dog."

"I heard your offer, and I confess I thought it very liberal," replied the friend; "has the boy rich parents, that he can afford to reject such offers?"

"No; Danvers is only a day laborer, and I do not suppose the boy ever had five dollars pocket money in his life."

"Humph!" was the expressive rejoinder of the friend; then the subject was dropped.

There was a missionary convention in progress in the town where Harry Danvers lived. Harry was not specially interested in missions, though he was a Sunday-school scholar and a member of a Mission Band; but someway he did not get interested in the Band. And I suspect that boys generally fail to become interested in the Mission Bands. Can you tell why it is that our missionary societies are so largely made up of girls?

Harry had no thought of going to any of the meetings in progress, but at tea time his sister Alice said:

"Harry, they say that the teacher from the school where our Band supports a pupil is going to speak to-night at the First Church; let's go down."

"I don't want to hear any missionary women speak," said Harry.

"But, my son, if your sister wants to go, you will not refuse to go with her?" said Mr. Danvers.

"I suppose I can go," replied Harry, not ungraciously, but somewhat indifferently.

"I do want to go; and, Harry, you know you said you were to write an essay on the Indian question for next Wednesday; maybe you'll get some ideas; you know Miss R---- is from the Indian Territory."

"All right! Count me in. I'll be ready in a jiffy."

Harry Danvers was never the same boy after that evening. You might not have noticed the difference, but it was there. He could never again be indifferent towards Missions. He gained, as Alice had suggested, some ideas, but not altogether in the line of his school essay. He for the first time in his life realized that he, Harry Danvers, had a part in the great work given to the church of Christ; that the responsibility of sending the Gospel to the heathen nations rested upon him in proportion to his ability, and the question, What can _I_ give? was pressed home upon his heart. The duty and privilege of sacrifice were set before him, and he asked himself, What can I sacrifice? The questions were unanswered when he went to bed that night. Harry was a Christian boy, and he carried his questioning to his Heavenly Father, and waited for the answer. The next morning as he went down stairs, with Jack's customary greeting there came to him the answer he had sought. Here was an opportunity to prove his sincerity! Was he equal to the sacrifice?

"What is the matter, Harry?" asked his mother; "are you sick?"

"The missionary meeting was too much for him, I guess," said Alice.

"Didn't you like the speaker?" asked Mr. Danvers.

"Yes, sir; _I_ liked it all very much. Mother, you ought to go this morning; they say there is a perfectly wonderful speaker to be on the platform--a woman from Syria; are _you_ going, Harry?"

"I don't know," replied Harry indifferently.

"Dear me," said Alice; "boys are so queer. Now I thought it was just splendid last evening, but Harry won't even say he liked it. I was all stirred up and ready to give all my jewelry--only I haven't any to give," and Alice chattered on until breakfast was over, and the family went their several ways. All the time Harry was thinking, and, as you will see, thinking to some purpose. He had an errand down town for his mother, and as he went out of the gate he said with energy, "I'll do it!"

Now Mrs. Danvers was a timid woman, and very much afraid of dogs. True, she tried to hide her fear and aversion for Harry's sake, but she had a nervous dread of some member of the family being bitten by the dog, and only a few days before, Harry's father said: "My boy, I sometimes wish you could make up your mind to give that dog away; your mother dislikes dogs so much."

Remembering this, Harry did not consider it necessary to say anything to his father about what he intended to do. His way down the street led him past Colonel Bates' residence. He stopped at the door and rang the bell, asking to see Colonel Bates. When that gentleman appeared he said, though his voice trembled,

"Have you bought a dog for Frank yet?"

"No; have you made up your mind to part with yours?"

"Yes, sir; if your offer holds good for to-day."

"Certainly; walk in and we will settle the business. I am very glad; we are going to a rather lonely place for the summer, and the dog will be both a comfort and protection to Frank."

The transfer of property was made in the course of the morning, and, strangely enough, Colonel Bates sat beside Harry that evening in the meeting and caught the glitter of the gold piece which the boy dropped into the basket as the collection was taken for the Indian Mission. And this is what he thought: "Here's a boy who has made a sacrifice; he has given that which cost him something, and I gave what I can spare as well as not! for once _I_ will give something that I shall feel."

"Father, why didn't you buy those horses you were talking about?" asked Frank Bates a few days later.

"Because I bought a dog for you instead!"

"But my Jack did not cost a thousand dollars!" said Frank, puzzled.

"That is just what it cost me," replied Colonel Bates, smiling at his boy's bewildered looks. And then he told him the story of the gold piece and his own sacrifice, and the boy, after a little silence had fallen between them, said:

"Father, you need not buy the dog cart; the old pony phaeton will do. Give me the money it would cost in gold pieces, please, and I will go to the next missionary meeting and offer _my_ sacrifice."

FAYE HUNTINGTON.

OUR MISSION BAND.

THE president of our Band appointed, at the beginning of the year, twelve girls and boys to take charge of the Band Meetings, one for each month. When Lucia Lawrence read the little slip of paper upon which was written her subject, and the month for which she was assigned, she said brightly,

"I don't know a single thing about Persia, but I can find out." And I am going to tell you just a few of the things she found out about Persia. She found that in July last the semi-centennial of the beginning of the missionary work among the Nestorians at Oroomia was celebrated. More than fifteen hundred Nestorians came to the jubilee on the college grounds.

"College grounds!" exclaimed Lucia's brother Tom as the two sat together working up the programme, for this brother and sister were accustomed to study and work together, "do you mean to say that they have a college over there?"

"Yes; there are schools of all grades in Persia," replied Lucia. "The first school was opened in a cellar with only seven small children; but now there are village schools, high schools, seminaries for boys and girls, a college and theological seminary."

"Are there many who attend these schools?" asked Tom.

"I do not know what you would call many; I should think it was a large number, all things considered, when they can count the day-school pupils by thousands and the boarding-school students by hundreds. But the population of Persia is between seven and eight million, and there are only seven Mission stations in the whole country. Five of these are under the management of the Presbyterian Board of America, and two are under the care of the English Church Missionary Society."

"It seems like putting little bits of wedges into a narrow crack in a big rock and thinking to split it by pounding with a hammer. The wedges go all to pieces and the rock stays just as it was."

"But, Tom, if your wedges are of iron, with power enough in the arm that strikes the blows, the rock is bound to yield."

"Yes; but sometimes people use up a lot of wedges and mallets too."

"Well, these missionaries who had given their lives as wedges to make an opening for the Gospel, were only too glad to be used in the service of Christ. That is what wedges are made for, I suppose, to be hammered and go to pieces at last."

"But what did they do at this jubilee? That is what I want to find out," said Tom.

"Just what we do in this country when we celebrate. They sold tickets which entitled the holders to the privilege of spending the night on the grounds, and also to their meals. The women were made comfortable in the college building, but many of the men had to sleep out of doors. A large booth had been built for the meeting, and men and women told the story of the last fifty years. They had 'papers' prepared. Some of them, on female education, were written by native women who had been educated in the schools. They told about the native churches, about the medical work of the Missions, and about the hospital; you know the only hospital in Persia was built by the missionaries. The history of the work of Miss Fidelia Fiske, and of Mrs. Grant and Miss Rice were given. There was one old woman who came a long distance, part of the way on foot, and that over a rough mountainous road, to attend the celebration; she was one of Miss Fiske's first girls. Seems to me she might have told a story worth hearing. The history of the Hamadan Mission is interesting. Miss Montgomery says, 'What hath God wrought? Come and see his work in Hamadan.' Nine years only since the first missionary was stationed there, and now a church of seventy-five members. A weekly prayer meeting and a woman's prayer meeting; a Sunday-school and several day schools. But this work is done under the most trying circumstances, without either church or school buildings. The schools are gathered in private houses, and in summer the preaching and other church services are held in the yard of Miss Montgomery's house and in winter in the house. It just seemed to me when I read about the work in Hamadan that I wanted to be rich. I should think some wealthy man would want to build a church there."

"It seems as though there is such a wide crack there a big wedge would go in and do good work."

"There is another thing which is encouraging," said Lucia, "and that is the fact that the people have the Bible in their own language; that is a big wedge, because you see if they once get the Bible into their homes the work will go on faster. The women too are being educated. There was a strong prejudice against the education of women, but that is wearing away and of course the influence of educated Christian mothers will be a great help. Now, Tom, I am going to give you the station at Hamadan for your topic at the meeting, and I shall give Ella the fire worshipers, and Dick will tell us about the Mussulmans. Then I must find somebody who will give an account of the work at Oroomiah. O, dear! there is so much about Persia that the hour will not begin to hold it all."

"Well, you may leave something to piece out my hour with. I don't believe I can ever find enough to fill up."

"What is your topic?" asked Lucia.

"Mexico; and I don't know a thing about it."

Lucia expressed her sympathy by laughing at him, and saying, "Just wait until you study it up!"

FAYE HUNTINGTON.

SELECTION FOR RECITATION.

WHY DID YOU NOT COME BEFORE?

[An aged Hindoo woman, while first hearing the Gospel,
said, "Why did you not come before? My hair has grown
gray waiting for the good news."]

AN aged woman, poor and weak,
She heard the mission teacher speak;
The slowly-rolling tears came down
Upon her withered features brown.
"What blessed news from yon far shore--
Would I had heard it long before.

"O, I have bowed at many a shrine,
When youth and health and strength were mine;
How earnestly my soul has striven
To find some gleam of light from heaven;
But all my toil has been in vain--
These gods of stone but mocked my pain.

"A weary pilgrimage I've trod,
To win some favor from my god;
And all my jewelled wealth I've laid
Beneath the dark Pagoda's shade;
But still, the burden on my breast
Bowed head and heart with sore unrest.

"Now, I have waited many a day,
My form is bent, my hair is gray;
But still the blessed words you bear
Have charmed away my long despair;
O sisters, from your happy shore,
Would you had sent to me before!

"O, precious is the message sweet
I hear your kindly lips repeat;
It bids me weep for joy again;
My stony eyes were dry with pain;
My weary heart with joy runs o'er--
Ah, had you come to me before!

"How welcome is the glorious name
Of Jesus, who to save me came.
And shall I live when death is past?
And may I all my burdens cast
On Him? And is His mercy free?
Not bought with gifts? Such news for me!

"Yes, please forgive me when I say,
I've needed this so many a day.
In your glad homes, did ye not know
How India's tears of sorrow flow?
If you had known on that bright shore,
Surely you would have come before!"
--MISS P. J. OWENS, _Methodist Protestant._

_Maud_ from Minnesota. Yes, I wrote the book which was your Christmas present. I am glad you like it. I think you will like the closing of the story about "Nettie and Jerry," but I must not tell you how it ends, for that would lessen the interest. "In a minute" is a very troublesome creature; I rejoice that you are going to get rid of his company.

_Winnie_ from Pennsylvania. A "temper" is a very good servant, but makes a bad master. If you succeed in keeping rule over yours, as I know you will if you try, remembering the "Whisper Motto," you will be much happier and more useful than you could possibly be if it ruled you.

_Deck_ and _Wilder_ from Minnesota. Yes, indeed, your letter shall be published, and I hope "papa" will enjoy it as much as I did. I am also much obliged to "sister" for writing for you. Still, I hope you will write me a letter all yourselves, as soon as you can, and let me know how you succeed. I am truly glad you have resolved not to "contradict each other." Do you know I believe Satan likes to hear people contradict better than he likes almost any other fault which well brought up, truthful people have.

_Newton_ from Pennsylvania. My boy, we welcome you with pleasure. To squarely own a fault is sometimes half the battle. You cannot be too careful of the words you speak to "mother." Cross words sometimes sting and burn after the mothers are gone. Watch carefully, and resolve to be a joy and comfort to your mother so long as you have one.

_Rachel_ from Kentucky. These "hasty tempers!" You have only to read the answers to the Pansies from month to month to discover how many are troubled with them. It is a wise thing to begin very early in life to keep them under control. About the habit of "forgetfulness," it sometimes grows on people so rapidly that they injure all their prospects in life by it. You do well to watch it.

_Emma_ from Massachusetts. It would be very pleasant to the Pansies to hear the story of some one whom you succeed in "Helping." Will you tell it for us? I hope the badge has reached you long ago, and is a comfort.

_Ned_ from Massachusetts. Good for you, my brave young soldier! A pledge against all that can intoxicate, and against tobacco, is a grand thing. I hope every Pansy in the garden will follow your example. So you are tempted to say "I don't want to?" Sometimes that isn't a bad thing to say. If anybody coaxes you to do wrong, I hope you will always say boldly, "I don't want to." But if it is something you know you ought to do, suppose you rush right off and set about it so quickly that your tongue will not have time to speak the words. How will that do?

_Bessie_ and _Helen_ form North Carolina. Bless your dear hearts, of course you will not fail! Don't think of such a thing. When a pledge is right to take, and therefore right to keep, just shut your lips firmly and say, "We shall succeed, because we ought to, and what we ought to do, we can." Glad to enroll you.

_Iya_ from Minnesota. I wonder if I have the name right? I am not sure. I hope your badge gave you help and pleasure. Oh, no, it costs nothing to belong to the P. S. but a good strong tussle with one's faults.

_Arthur_ from Massachusetts. My boy, if I should put our roll of honor in THE PANSY, there would be room for nothing else. There are thousands and thousands of names! Hurrah for the temperance pledge! I feel like giving a hearty cheer for every boy who signs it. I wonder how many Pansies we have who have done so? Wouldn't it be nice to know? Dear me, I hope you are not a lazy boy! Because they are almost certain to make lazy men. Don't be a lazy Pansy, please.

_Cora_ from South Carolina. So glad to hear the badge is helping you. Give my love to Daisy and little Alice; you will have to be a very careful older sister in order to help them, will you not? So your dear father has gone to Heaven? Poor little Blossom! I know how you miss him. You must be a special flower for your dear mamma now, shedding all the perfume you can around her.

_Martha_ from Massachusetts. Yes, I know all about how easy it is to "answer back," and I know just what a trial it is to the mothers. You do well to make a great effort to break the power of the habit. Getting up in the morning isn't the easiest work in the world for a great many people. I knew a lady who said she was obliged to spring out of bed as soon as her eyes were opened, because if she waited five minutes it seemed to her that it was not possible to get up! I suspect, my dear Blossom, that you have a good mother. There is nothing which needs more careful guarding than what we read. Make a rule to read nothing that mother does not approve.

_Lena_ from New York. Glad to hear from Lena. These dear mothers are worth minding the very minute they speak. I almost know you will keep your pledge.

_Cora_ from Indian Territory. Welcome, dear Cora, to our Pansy bed. I am sorry you have to bloom all alone in your far-away home. Cannot you find some more Pansies who would bloom if they had a chance? Try. I know all about what a nuisance it is to have people around who do not put away their "things." At this moment there lies a cap in the very centre of my study table among the papers. It belongs to a boy who is shouting at somebody in the kitchen to know if they have the least idea where his cap is! He spends an immense amount of time looking for things that ought to be hanging on their hooks, or lying properly on their shelves, and would be, I believe, if they could only walk.

_Nettie_ from Ohio. I hope your PANSY reaches you regularly, my dear little girl, and that it gives you a great deal of comfort. You see your "prayer" was answered in just the way you most wanted. Our Father in Heaven always answers all prayer, but sometimes he has to say "No" because He can tell whether what we have asked is the best thing.

_Edwin_ from New York. My boy, if you have done a "kind act" each day since you took your pledge, you must have some pleasant stories to tell which the Pansies would like to hear. Cannot you write out one of them for us?

_Andrew_ from Illinois. O the teeth! I am very glad you have pledged to take care of them. I know a boy who says he "cannot" remember to brush his, only on Sundays, and I am very much afraid the consequence will be, they will not be worth brushing by the time he is a man. Thank you for being a worker for THE PANSY. I know of no better way to show that you like the magazine than to try to get others to take it.

_Ethelwyn_ from Pennsylvania. How many people have you helped, my dear? And how many ways have you discovered in which you can help others? Can we be helpful without speaking a word? One of the most helpful little people I know is a deaf and dumb girl. How do you suppose she manages it?

_Minnie_ from Ohio. Dear little friend, it is very easy to be "impatient." There is a little girl of my acquaintance who became so impatient with a door which would not open that she knocked it with her knee. Now it happened that in her pocket was a small cushion with needles on it, and the knock sent a fine needle into her knee, which caused her dreadful pain and kept her from taking a step for many weeks. She used to say, "Oh, dear, if I only _hadn't_!"

_Willie_ from Ohio. I like your pledge. When a boy has a good father and mother, and pledges himself always to obey them in everything, he is about as safe as he can be in this world; especially if they are Christian people, who say to him, "My boy, your first duty is to give yourself to the Lord Jesus to obey him in all things."

_Jessie_ from Colorado. I wish you had sent me a copy of the "Exercise," "Jesus Our Star." It must have been very beautiful, and perhaps the Pansies would like to use it in their Sabbath-schools. Perhaps you can send us a copy for next Christmas? How many presents you received! What did you do for those who had none?

_Frank_ from Michigan. So, my seven-year-old Blossom, you sometimes get angry, do you? That is bad; the perfume of angry flowers is very disagreeable. It is well you have taken the pledge to overcome.

_Inez_ from Indiana. You are not alone in your fault, my darling. It is as natural for people to want their own way, as it is to breathe. The important thing is, to be very pleasant about giving it up, when for any reason you cannot, or ought not to have it. This is a thing well worth trying for.

_Anne_ from Washington. I was very deeply interested in your letter, and have great sympathy for you in your great affliction. What a wonderful and blessed thing it will be if all the members of your large family meet in Heaven! Are you doing all you can to make sure of that happy meeting?

_Florence_ from New York. A letter "all to yourself" is something I cannot give, my Blossom, much as I would like to. Don't you see it would not be fair to the others? I think you have the best possible sort of "pet." Finger nails are very useful things, and have a way of looking very badly if they are forgotten. I am glad you are going to care for yours.

_Edith_ and _Lilian_ from Massachusetts. I am always glad to welcome two sisters; I think they can be such helps to each other. We are delighted to accept "Grandma" as an "honorary member." We have a special and tender love for all the dear grandmas. I have not the least doubt but she will keep her beautiful pledge to try to make somebody happy every day; and I can imagine how happy you two can make her if she sees you trying.

_Robert_ from Massachusetts. So you "don't like to mind quickly?" Well, never mind whether you like it or not, if you succeed in doing it. I think myself it requires a good deal of decision to accomplish it, and I don't know of any habit more important to acquire, so I welcome you with pleasure.

_Pauline_ from Massachusetts. My little "wilful" Blossom! A will is a very good thing if you make a servant of it, and oblige it to do just the right thing; but when one gets to be its slave, oh, dear! I am glad you have begun early to train it aright.

_Daisy_ from New York. Poor finger nails! How would you like to be bitten every time you plucked up courage and grew a little. Don't treat your faithful little servants so badly. "Clayton" is very nearly right. We can do almost anything we try hard to do, that is if it is right that we should do it. For, back of this idea lies a great truth: God never gives us any command which is too hard for us to obey. It is very easy to get angry, and sometimes hard to break the habit; but it can be done.

_Lulu_ from Virginia. Here is another little Southern Blossom who wants to overcome "all" her faults. Brave little girl! I am sure you will succeed much better than those who never think about their faults at all.

_Emma_ from Connecticut. Did she have so many faults that she couldn't count them? Poor little robin! Still I suspect that is the honest truth about every one of us. We are great bundles of faults. If you try with wide-open eyes to overcome each as it appears to you, you will keep a very important pledge.

_Arthur Fred_ from Rhode Island. My boy, I can sympathize with "mamma." I am not sure that I know a more troublesome small habit than the one of moving slowly. Especially when one is waiting for you. Did you ever hear of the boy who lost his life because he waited to say "What for?" when told to bend his head? I could tell you of a little girl who lost a long delightful journey because she moved so slowly across a railroad depot that the train went off and left her behind.

_Bertha_ from Maine. "Getting mad!" Oh, dear! what a sorrowful fault for a little Bertha. The "Whisper Motto," my dear, is "For Jesus' Sake." It is called so because though we may be often in places where we could not whisper to our father or mother or any earthly friends, it is not possible to go where we could not speak to Jesus, and get his help. If you control your temper for Jesus' sake, you will surely succeed.

_Lena_ from Massachusetts. "Little sister" will have a much happier life because of your pledge. And she will probably make a better woman if she lives, because of it. If sisters only knew how much they could help each other, by watching their words, I think they would take your pledge.

_Helen_ from Connecticut. You are right, my friend, everybody has "need of patience." I don't suppose you will find a day in your life but you will need a large stock of it to draw from. You do well to begin early to gather it.

_Jessie_ from Connecticut. We are glad to enroll you among our number. There is no doubt but that you and your friend can be great helps to each other. Patient people, those who can be patient with little trials or annoyances, are sadly needed in this world. I heard a gentleman say of a quiet little lady once, that she had a remarkable mind. "How do you know?" I asked, for I was aware that he had not talked much with her. "Because," he said, "I saw her keep a perfectly quiet face and gentle manner under a series of annoying circumstances; and only people with very cultured minds or hearts can do that."

_Laura_ from New Jersey. Your plan for getting up a P. S. is an excellent one. I hope you will write and tell us how you succeed. We are very glad to welcome Andrew. I wish all the boys in the country would take his pledge to keep their arms off the table. Wouldn't the mothers rejoice!

_Anita Harriet_ and _Ada Maud_. Welcome, dear little sisters, who write such nice letters. Does the old giant Impatience trouble you so much, Anita? I suspect about the time he comes along, Giant Cross gets hold of Maud. Am I right? Those two are very fond of working together. You are wise to join hands in fighting them.

_Harvey_ and _Lillie_ from New York. A brother and sister starting out together; that is good. Harvey, my boy, I don't often get a letter which gives me more pleasure than did yours. It is not easy work that you have undertaken, it is true, but you have a great Helper on your side. As soon as I can manage it, we must get up a mammoth temperance organization from the members of the P. S. As for the little sister, her sweet and thoughtful pledge will be helpful to you, as well as to herself.

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DEAR PANSY:

In reading my magazine I found you would like to know how your Pansies spent Christmas. I spent mine very pleasantly; we had a small tree in our sitting-room, with presents from papa and mamma, and all the family. In the evening sister went to the organ and played some sweet pieces, and we all joined in the singing. Then we went up to grandpa's. I think the day was filled with pleasant things.

Dear Pansy, I do try to keep my pledge. I try hard to keep things in their proper places; but I find I need to be very watchful, and to ask for a great deal of help from God. Mamma has just written to Boston to renew my subscription to THE PANSY. It is rather late, but I hope not too late to wish you a Happy New Year.

Lovingly yours,
LANETTA BRIGGS.

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DEAR PANSY:

I want to join the P. S. because I have many faults, and I think the badge would help me. I believe my worst fault is being careless. Last year I raised some strawberries, and in that way earned the money for my PANSY. I hope to make enough this year to take it again. I can hardly wait for the next number to come. I would like to have your photograph if you have any to sell. I try to remember our "Whisper Motto." This is the first letter I ever wrote.

Your friend,
GEORGE CROSLEY.

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DEAR PANSY:

I have a good many faults, but I think my temper is the worst. That is when I get out of patience I am _awful mad_! Don't that sound dreadful? I am trying to control it, and I know THE PANSY helps me. I like it better than all the papers and magazines in the world. Thank you for your good stories. I wish you a Happy New Year, not in words, but from my heart.

Your dear friend,
WILLIE PARSONS.

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DEAR PANSY:

I write to you to promise three things:

1st. I promise to avoid the use of slang language of all descriptions.

2nd. I promise to avoid being irritable.

3rd. I promise to get as many people to sign the temperance pledge as I can.

HARVEY ROMER.

I have signed the temperance pledge and would have tried to carry out my third promise before but I did not know where to get pledges.

I am aware that what I undertake is not easy to perform, but I am one of Jesus' followers and I know he will help me if I ask him. I hope also that the badge will remind me of my pledge, and the whisper motto encourage me to perform it.

Yours Very Truly,
HARVEY ROMER.

P. S. I am a subscriber to the Pansy and would like a badge.

H. R.

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DEAR PANSY:

My brother Milton and I take THE PANSY this year, and I want to be one of your little Pansies. I am seven years old, and can read and make letters and figures on my slate. I am trying to be a good boy, and if you will let me be one of your Blossoms, I will try to be better every day, and will promise not to drink any wine or cider, or anything that will make people drunk, and to be like the little boy my grandma read about in THE PANSY, who signed the pledge when he was such a little boy. I say my prayers, and go to Sunday-school when I am well. I am sick now, have been in bed for two days, and my grandma reads to me out of THE PANSY. We have some pretty pansies in our flower garden in the spring, and when they bloom I shall think of Pansy, and maybe I will send you some. My brother Milton has written to you, and I send twelve cents to pay for one of our badges. Warren wants to join too--says he is going to try to be good every day, but we think he is too little--he is only three years old. Don't you think he had better wait till he is a little bigger? With love from

Your little Blossom, D. JEMISON TITLOW.

I can write my own name, but not very good yet.

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DEAR PANSY:

My papa takes THE PANSY for me this year, and I want to be one of your little Pansies. I am a little boy five years old, and live away down on the Eastern shore of Virginia. I go to school and am in my Second Reader and spelling-book, and make letters and figures on my slate. I can't write yet, so my papa is writing this for me. I try to be a good boy, but I want to be better, and am going to try and mind my papa and mamma every day, and help them all I can. I also promise not to drink any wine or cider, or anything to make me drunk. I say my prayers every night, and ask the Lord to bless my papa and mamma and brothers, and make me a good boy. I have a brother named Jemison who is seven years old, and a little brother named Warren who is three years old. Warren says naughty words sometimes. He says he is going to stop, and wants to be one of your Pansies, but I think he is too little. Jemmie is going to write to you and send twelve cents to pay for a badge. I go to Ocean Grove sometimes, and if I go this summer I hope I will see you. My papa gave me a copy-book to-day, and I am going to learn to write, so that I can write to you myself. I must now close, with love, from

Your little Blossom, MILTON R. TITLOW.

A FAMILY FLIGHT OVER EGYPT AND SYRIA.

I KNOW you are acquainted with the Hales, Edward Everett and Miss Susan; therefore you know, without my telling you, that they write thoroughly delightful books. But I wonder if you are acquainted with the Horners? Not the family of "Little Jack Horner" who "sat in a corner," but some friends of the Hales who took delightful journeys all over the world. What I want of you is to accompany them, and have a good time, and learn more about the world we live in than you imagined you could without bidding good-by to your father and mother, and spending a great deal of money. This trip is very cheap indeed; in fact, if you belong to the P. S.--as of course you do--it will actually cost you only one dollar and fifty cents! Who ever heard of travelling over Egypt and Spain for a dollar and fifty cents! For the matter of that, if you are not particular about the dress, and will choose one a little plainer, you may save thirty cents and go for a dollar-twenty. The book has nearly four hundred pages, and a great many pictures. It is beautifully bound, and printed on the best of paper. I do not know how you could have a prettier ornament for your book table than it offers.

But the best way of helping you to understand how well the book is written, is to give you a piece of it, and I therefore let you have a peep at Damascus with the Horner family:

DAMASCUS.

One of the first things the Horners did was to go to the top of the minaret of the city gate, for the view which is presented there of the town.

They saw below them a plain of flat roofs, broken here and there by a white cupola, and a tall minaret, and the large dome of the great mosque.

At their feet was the beginning of a narrow lane, winding along as far as the eye could follow it. This was the "street called straight,"--straight, meaning narrow; for it certainly would not be called straight in Philadelphia. In the Roman period of Damascus a noble street extended through the city in the same direction, and excavations made under the present Straight street have revealed fragments of a Corinthian colonnade which adorned it. For, during the great age since the founding of Damascus, and in the many _evèuements_ it has experienced, one set of buildings after another has been destroyed, so that, as at Jerusalem, there is supposed to be layer upon layer of demolished cities to a great depth, underlying the present one.

In the distance they saw Mount Hermon, snow-covered at the summit. A walk through this street led them past scenes of the massacre of 1860, and other interesting sites; then, under a low Roman arch, they entered the region of the bazaars. This reminded them of Cairo, "only more so." The same narrow streets, and same open fireplaces as Bessie had called them, where the merchants sat cross-legged, in front of little shelves, on which were piled their stuffs; but at Damascus there was a greater variety of strange and gorgeous materials, rich and splendid. They could not resist the fascination of these shops, and bought a good many things, Hassan doing the bargaining, which consisted in a long and violent argument between him and the shopkeeper, ending in a mutual compromise. Both parties love these tilts of the tongue, and it is a regular part of shopping in the East. The dealer demands a price which he does not dream of receiving, and Hassan mentions a figure which he knows he shall have to raise. The squabble became sometimes violent, but after awhile the repetition was tedious, especially as our Americans did not understand a word of it. Miss Lejeune saw some pretty little damask napkins, for which her soul longed, bordered with red and yellow stripes.

"Well, Hassan," said Mr. Horner, "you may begin the fight over these;" and while it went on, the party turned their attention to the crowds flocking by in the narrow streets, dressed in the brilliant colors of the Orient: the men with gay turbans, and full trousers of every bright tint, the women veiled, in dark garments. A man went by with a cooling drink, rattling tumblers to attract attention; a lemon was stuck on the pointed top of the tin vessel he carried it in. Tommy tried it, and pronounced it "not bad!"

An expedition on donkeys, which was shared only by Mr. Hervey, Miss Lejeune and Bessie, while the others were busy in bazaars, was to Salahiyah, a suburb of Damascus. They rode at first through a narrow lane, with high blank walls on either side. The houses of Damascus are all built in this way, with all their pleasantness concentrated within, upon an interior court. The street walls are without windows or access, except through heavy doors. This is on account of the numerous attacks the inhabitants have received, leading them to protect their outer works.

They stopped before a dingy little door, and knocked. They had to stoop to enter, when lo! they heard the sound of a rushing fountain, and found themselves standing on a balcony surrounded by orange and lemon-trees. Roses and fleur-de-lis were blooming along the paths of a lovely garden, through which poured a deep, though narrow river, with its edge tufted with maiden-hair and grasses that danced in the water. A slowly turning wheel lifted water from the stream to feed the little fountain.

The gentlemanly proprietor, in a turban and gown of striped red and blue cotton, spread a carpet and brought chairs for them to repose upon, while he entertained them by playing upon a musical instrument something like a fiddle, and there they ate their picnic lunch, which Hassan, who accompanied them, had brought. This was his surprise. He had proposed the expedition, and was disappointed that the whole party did not join it; but for some reason, they had not understood the extent of the plan, and so the others lost seeing the pretty garden.

There is much more about Damascus, for which I have not room. There is much to delight you in the book. I hope you will be able to own it, and will give it careful reading.

PANSY.

The April issues of the popular

will be the following:

APRIL 1. "THE PIPERS," by Jessie Curtis Shepherd. This charming picture is the very spirit of springtime--springtime of the greening earth, springtime of life, in the gay procession of children blowing on dandelion pipes.

APRIL 15. "ON EASTER DAY," by W. L. Taylor. This Easter picture is an exquisite idyl of the maid and the lily.

_Already issued:_

Oct. 1. LITTLE BROWN MAIDEN. _Kate Greenaway._
Oct. 15. ON NANTUCKET SHORE. _F. Childe Hassam._
Nov. 1. IN GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN. _W. T. Smedley._
Nov. 15. THE DREAM PEDLER. _E. H. Garrett._
Dec. 1. MORNING. _F. H. Lungren._
Dec. 15. EVENING. _F. H. Lungren._
Jan. 1. WILD DUCKS. _Charles Volkmar._
Jan. 15. IN HOLLAND. _F. Childe Hassam._
Feb. 1. THE THREE FISHERS. _Thomas Hovenden._
Feb. 15. UNDER THE ELECTRIC LIGHT. _F. H. Lungren._
Mar. 1. TWO CONNOISSEURS. _T. W. Wood, N. A._
Mar. 15. LOST. _W. L. Taylor._

The WIDE AWAKE ART PRINTS are sent post-paid in pasteboard tubes for 50 cents each. Half yearly subscription, $5.50; yearly, $10.00.

THE PRESS SAYS

of the beauty and art-educational value of the ART PRINTS:

"_Will delight the artist, the art lover, and every friend of art-education._"--Boston Beacon.

"_Fine examples._"--Art Union, N. Y.

"_Deserve to be most popular._"--Boston Sunday Times.

"_Will give unfailing and refined pleasure._"--Boston Transcript.

"_We can very cordially praise the new_ WIDE AWAKE ART PRINTS. _They are wholly charming. We most unhesitatingly pronounce them admirable specimens of reproductive art, giving the character of the original work, and even the technical qualities of the artist's handling to a very remarkable degree. We wish that such charming gems of art could be in every home ... for they will be a source of very great pleasure ... and have a very important educational value._"--Boston Post.

WONDER STORIES OF SCIENCE.

=Price, 1.50.=