Norwich Bulletin Newspaper, April 15, 1915, Page 9

NORWICH BULLETIN, THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 1915 THE WIDE AWAKE CIRCLE BOYS AND GIRLS DEPARTMENT Rules for Young Writers. Write plainly on one side of the paper only, and number the pages. Use pen and ink, not pencil. 2. Short and pointed articles will be given preference. Do not use over 250 words. o 4. Original stories or letters only will be used. 5. Write yo.. name, age and ad- dress plainly at the bottom of the story. Address all communications to Uncle Jed, Bulletin Office. “Whatever you are—Be that! Whatever you say—Be truel Straightforwardly act, Be honest—in fact, Be nobody else but you POETRY. A Happy Farmer Lad. H. H. Fariss. Pa _says I'm downright lazy, But ma says, with a smile, “Our Willie's just a growing boy, He'll work lots after while.” My goodness, how I hate those choge: Yet, every hour or so, “You, They shout and call, . And back to work I go. 1. ‘Willie § A What I do llke is to go out And watch the baby calf Go_capering around the lot, 'Twould make a donkey laugh. Then, there’s the hen that hatched out ducks, She used to be so prim, But now she throws a dozen fits ‘When they go in to swim. I love them all; they are my pets, From Dobbin clear on down. T'd rather be just what I am ‘Than any boy in town, For I've these friends, who love me, too. Farm life ain’t half so bad, 8o I just guess I will remain A happy farmer lad, UNCLE JED'S TALK TO WIDE- AWAKES, Spring has come and we must be alive to everything about us. It does us good to know the plants and the birds and the brooks and the ways of nature. The flow of light is steady from " daybreak until noon, and then the ebb of light begins. There are mnot ten minutes in the day when the light is of the same intensity—it is increasing in volume until noon, and decreasing untfl sundown; and there is not a day in the year when the landscape locks exactly the same. Everything which sustains life is constantly changing as well as life itselt. The morning glare and eve- ning glow of,one day are not the same as that of another day. The birds come in their order, the flowers bloom in their order, the in- sects appear in their order, the trees leat out and bear fruit in their order; and the order of the insects and the flowers which they are related to is so exact that each comes in time to ben- efit the other. Order is the supreme rule of nature, and there is as much order in the cy- clone, the hurricanes and the earth- quake as in the gentlest manifestation ©of nature, although to man they are terrible and appear to be disorderly. One has to be wide-awake to read God’s book of nature which has not one mistake In it, although men in trying to interpret it have doubtless blundered a million times and are like- 1¥ to be mistaken a million times more. " We should know all we possibly can about this order. Only an orderly life is a long life. ter—The Outdoor Girls at Ralnbow Lake. 3—James O. Kelley, of Versailles— Campfire Girls Across the Sea. 4—Catherine Nelson, of Versailles— The Moving Picture Girls, Snowbound. 6—Mary Motyka, of Leonard Bridge —A Child’s Garden of Verses, 7—Etta McGrath, of Bozrahville— The Outdoor Girls in Florida. $—Lawrence Curry, of Yantic— Alice’'s Adventures in Wonderland. The winners of .prize books lving in the city may call at The Bulletin business office for them at any hour after 10 a. m. on Thursday. LETTERS OF ACKNOWLEDGMENT Mary A. Burrill, of Stafford Springs —Thank you ever so much for the nice prize book I received Thursday entitled Bab, the Castaway. I have read it and it is very:interesting. Sara Hyman, of Norwich—I_thank you very much for the prize book I received. This makes the fourth I have won. I have read it through and find it very interesting. Alice G. Palmer, of Norwich—I thank vou for the prize book which was awarded me. I have read it and it was very interesting. STORIES WRITTEN: BY WIDE- AWAKES. A Strange Escape. In 1658 there was a little French colony at Onondago in New York. Some of the men in this colony were traders, and some were missionaries. They were living among the Onon- dago Indians. The Indlans had been very friendly, but the French found out that a plot had been formed to put them all to death. Stakes had been set up in order to burn some of them alive. There seemed no hope for the Frenchmen to escape.. They knew if they tried to get away by land they would all be killed; if they shut them- selves up in their fort, the Indians would besiege them, and they would starve to death. They had no boats to get away with by sailing through the lakes and down the St. Lawrence river. The Frenchmen went to work and built boats secretly in the attic of their fort or trading house. They built them strong enough to bear the floating ice. They had also some light canoes made of bark, which they hid in the upper part of the house. The question was how to get away with- out the Indians finding it out and pur- suing them. One of the young Frenchmen had been adopted into the tribe of these Indians. He invited the Indians to a feast. It was a feast of a kind the Indians give, in which every guest is obliged to eat everything that it set before him, leaving nothing.- The In- dians kept on eating, while the French amused them with dancing and games. The young Frenchman played on his guitar, while the guests ate. The In- dians having eaten too much, at length began to fall asleep one by one. The feast was not over until late at night, until every Indian had eaten till he begged not to be given any more, Some of the Indians fell asleep while they were eating. The rest of them were soon sleeping soundly in their wigwams, The Frenchmen now quickly broueht their boats downstairs and put them into the water. They loaded them with food and other things needed for their journey, then they pushed off without making any noise, or speak- ing above a whisper. The water froze about their boats as they rowed, and every minute they feared an attack from the Indians. They rowed during that night, and they rowed and pad- dled all the next day without taking any rest. It was not until evening of the second day they.felt they had passed out of the greatest danger. The Indians slept late the morning after the feast. When they awoke at last they came out of their huts, one Disorder i{s disastrous anywhere and a violation of law. Disorder produces diséase and death, which in time you may learn. Wide-Awakes keep your eyes open and learn something new every day about orderliness. THE WINNERS OF PRIZE BOOKS. ..1—Thomas O’Connell, of Norwich— The Campfire Girls in the Outside ‘World. 2—E Abbott Smith, of Burnside— The Moving Picture Girls. §—Carrie A, Pratt, of Pomfret Cen- by one, and went towards the French house. They were surprised to see it shut -~ and everything silent about it. Bhey supposed the Frenchmen were af prayer, so they waited quietly out- side. They could hear the fowls crow- ing in the yard and when they knock- ed at the door of the house, the dog barked. Noon came, and yet no French- men appeared. Late in the afternoon the Indians climbed up the side of the house and got in by the window. They could hear no sound but their own steps. They were much fright- ened as they stole through the house and opened the main door. They searched the building from top to bot- tom, but not a Frenchman was to be found. As they were sure that the The POol Everything at The Pool is putting on an air of being busy, thank you. Even if Uncle Jed got lost in its suburbs, business is picking up and many of the inhabitants have returned from their southern tour with a determination to build and expand. It was only yesterday that several #2zailles of the maples, oaks, elms and wther aristocratic citizens, while dis- sussing political matters for the good goverument of The Pool, commenced to compare notes in regard to the restlossness of their roots. “Yes,” said a sugar maple, “there is ® difference In the roots of plants. I know some being determined 4o go straight down while some of my neigh- bora :ave what Grandpa Lowater calls fibrous roof “That’s it,” said an ironwood which stood near by as straight as an ar- row. “Your roots are calléd axial be- the center one is a continuation of tho direction or axis of your trunk, while many of these small neighbors have radial roots, so called because their roots radiate in all djrections trom a common point.” “f see,” sald the oak. “That is why the tap-rooted plants can stand the dry weather best. Such roots strike deep and draw much nourishment trom the deep soil, while our friends that suffer from thirst must have roots that spread out near the surface and make them dependent upon surface eondit.ons.” “True,” remarked a tall elm, “but #id you people know your roots were onsrructed differently from your Body? A class from the consolidated school were out here last summer and lalked the whole matter up while seat- ed about my trunk. It was interesting even if I did know more about it than they ¢id.” e “Teli us what they said,” begged an ol butternut. “It was a life history. These pupils tommenced with grains of corn they tach held with acorns, beans, grains and various other seeds.” “Sece,” sald their teacher, “from what side of the grain does the embryo start. Remew,ber that embryo consists 4 three parts, named in a former chap- ler, ectyledon, plumule and hypocotyl 20‘1}'(,11 remember what each phrt was ki “Then they talked about the direc- tion the root and plumule grew, how the cotyledon sometimes appeared above the ground, but not always. You also remember the endosperm, we as mothers always pack into the cradles wita our babies—food for them to use beitlare they can draw food from the soil. ““Dut what interested me most was theic talk about the hpyocotyl and how it ate the endosperm. How this toe peeked out of the seed first and as it grew grains of soil would™tling to it, not of themselves, but were held by tiry hairs. ‘These pupils called these hairs “root- hairs” and told one another they were the real mouths of our roots. What may seem strange to some of us was the fact that these hairs never live very long, but are constantly dying and srowir~ anew on the younger par: of our roots. The maple’s seedlings shiow these hairs more plainly than mine, ‘What is more, the pupils were told by the teacher that our. root-hairs exude a slightly acid fluld, which aids the hairs in dissolving and absorbing thi mg:en} zurt ‘of our Ioo;l. nother interesting pi of the pu- pils’ talk was the cl&ia:lt they mfido after passing around an end of one of my own roots they had dug up end cut off without asking me if they might. That claim was that each root terminated in a horseshoe-shaped mass. The teacher named it “root- " He said its office was-to protect the tender parts behind it—the g-m where all the growth in length of our roots is made—as our roots push their way through the soil. The teacher claimed this burrowing of our roots must go on year after year or we could not live. This cap was examined by the pupils with what they called “a glass,” which allowed them to see that it was composed of loose cells, out of which the solid root and, as I have said, the g point was at the extrem-. ity of the stip, just behind the cap. ‘There were no hairs on_the cap. GRANDFATHER LOWATER. little Jetters. French had no boats they were struck with fear. They gazed a moment at each other in silence, then they fled from the house. They believed the Frenchmen had, by some magic, made themselves invisible; so they could not be_seen, Meanwhile the French passed down Lake Ontario through many dangers. At last they reached Montreal, where the people looked on them as men who had come up from the grave. THOMAS O'CONNELL, Age 13. Norwich. A Mysterious Stranger. Helen had gone to bed early because she did not have any studying to do. She was tired,. but could not sleep. At last she fell asleep, only to awaken with a jump. She looked around the room, wondering what made it look dreary; it never had before. She was thinking this over, when she suddenly heard a mysterious noise. They she saw a white figure slowly come into sight. She was greatly frightened, but still kept very qulet. She could see the figure plainly now. She did not want to act as though she was frightened, so she began talk- ing out loud, pretending not to know anyone was in the room. The figure began moving, muttering words at the same time. Helen did not know what he said because he spoke low. But finally she heard him say, “I wonder who is in this room?” Helen answered, “It is I, Helen Fray, and I would like to know who you are, and what you 4re doing here?” “Oh,” said the strange figure, “I am your uncle’s ghost and I am just walk- ing around to save the funeral ex- penses.” Then, before Helen had time to speak, the mysterious stranger was gone. Helen wondered what all this meant and when she told her parents in the morning the- thought it also very strange as Helen never had an uncle, The only way the Fray family could Laccount for it was by saying the ghost must have come to the wrong house. ANNA SCHRIEFER, Age 14. Columbia, The Story of Gerhardt. Gerhardt, a German shepherd boy, was watching his flock, which was feeding in the valley on the border of a forest, when a hunter came out of the woods and asked: “How far is it bo the nearest vil- 1as ge “Six miles, sir,” answered the boy, “but the road is on a sheep track and very easily lost” The hunter looked -at the crooked track and said, “My lad, I am very hungry and thirsty. I have lost my companion and missed my way. Leave your sheep and show me the road. I will pay you well.” “I cannot leave my sheep, sir,” re- plied Gerhardt. “They will stray into the woods and may be eaten by wolves or stolen b¥ robbers.” “Well, what of that?” queried the hunter. “They "are not your sheep. The loss of one or two wouldn't be much to your master, and I'll give you more than you have earned in a year.” “I cannot go, sir,” replied Gerhardt very firmly. “My master pays me for my time, and he trusts me with his sheep. If I were to sell my time, which does not belong to me, and the sheep should be lost, it would be the same as if I had stolen them. “Well,” said the hunter, “will you trust your sheep with me while you go to the village and_get some food, drink and a guide? I will take care of them for you.” The boy shook his head. “The sheep do_not know your voice.” “And can’'t you trust me? Do I look like a dishonest man?” asked the hunter, angrily, “Sir,”” sald the boy, “you are trying to make me false to my trust, to make me break my word to my master. How do I-know you weuld keep your word > Gerhardt afterwards learned that this hunter was the Grand Duke. JOHN B. O'NBIL. Norwich. My Trip to the Dome. Not long ago one pleasant day my mother and I went for a walk to Hart- ford. I told her that I would like to g0 to the capitol and go to the dome. She said “All right.” ‘We went up on the elevator, four flights and then we had to walk the rest of the way. The guide unlocked the doros, and would walit until everybody was in, then he ‘would shut them again to keep the breeze away. It was no easy task to climb the one hundred and severi- ty-two stairs. Some were almost straight up and some were winding. There were two flights of winding stairs. The people dropped out and would not go to the top. Anyway, we got to the top. It was two hundred and fifty-five feet above the ground. It cost three million dollars to build it. 'We could look all ‘around the city and see the neople on the streets be- low. They looked like toys. One man let us take his fleld glasses. We could see Mt. Tom, and many other things in the distance: but there were s0 many forest fires the air was full of smoke so that it made the" scene blurred. y I hope the Wide-Awakes who have not been to the capitol’'s dome may gio some day. E. ABBOTT SMITH, Age 13. Burnside, Y Longfellow’s Study. Mr. Longfellow’s children were born in Cambridge. He had three little girls and two boys. They loved their father very dearly. He loved them, and made them happy. He used to write thém They liked to be with their father. They would run in his ;t_udy to see him and try to surprise im. “It is growing dark,” they would say, “Papa cannot be writing now. We will surprise him.” They would creep softly down the stairs. They could peep in. at -their father. Then they would rush into b room.and climb into his lap and woul kiss him. How happy they were. Mr. Longfellow wrote a poem about them and called it “The Children’s Hour.” LEO POLIQUIN, Age 10, Versailles. a “The Lost Shoe. When Willie came out of schdol Carlo was still on top of the snow- By A k. ‘Willie thought he would try walk- ing on the bank. He broke through and one of his shoes came off, Carlo thought it was great fun and ran off with Willle's books. After a Jong chase Willle caught Carlo and then went back to look for his shoe. He looked everywhere, but the shoe could not be found. ‘The next morning Mrs. Squirrel found the.shoe and ran off with it to her home in the pine tree. .She sald it. would e a nice homeé for her bables, all lined with soft, pretty flan- nel. ELIZABETH PORTELANCE, Age 8. Norwich, Join the Bird Club. Dear Wide-Awakes: Would you not | ref like to become a member of The Bird club? I am trying to see how large a number of boys will join this club before ‘April 30.' It does not cost you anything, just send ypur name and address to the Liberty Bell Bird Club, Philadelphia, Pa. and they will send you in return gome good literature. Of course you must be faithful to your promise to do all you gan to preserve these lovely little songsters. R. C. MORAN, Age 15. Mr. Fox and Mrs. Duck. | “Mr. Fox thinks he knows so much,” said Mrs. Duck as she was preparing to take a walk in the woods. As she came down the road, quack- ing with-all her might, Mr. Fox, who was near by, heard her. ow 1 shall have a meal of victu- al: he said to himself as he hid be- hind a tree. Mrs. Duck now was near the tree and Mr. Fox caught her and threw her over his shoulder, so that her head was hanging down. 4 So Mrs. Duck put on her thinking cap to save her life. “Mr. Fox,” said she, “would you mind if I could have my head a little higher?” “None of your tricks now. You know you are caught and will not be let “But, Mr. Fox, let me tell you some- thing. Would you prefer a pig or a duck?” “Now, none of this,” and he smacked his lips so hard that it sent a shiver up Mrs. Duck’s back. - “Why do- you shiver on this warm day ? Are you cold?” But Mrs. Duck was too proud to answer, because she knew her voice would tremble and he would know she was afraid. So she said again: “Mr. Fox, which would you prefer, a pig or a duck?” *A pig, of course, because when I get a duck I nearly choke myself with the feathers.” “T will tell you where there is a litter ot pigs.” At this Mr. Fox again smacked his |blps, which sent another shiver up her ‘Would you like to know where?” “Yes, indeed,” was the answer. “Then put me down.” “All right: but if there is nothing there, you must stand still.” “Yes,. I will” “But where are the pigs?” “They are in the midst of this brygh. You must jump in the midst of the litter.” “All right” and he jumped in the midst of the litter. But, oh dear, it wasn't a litter of pigs. It was a ltter of puppies and their mother. 2 The mother dog jumpéd and chased the fox and the fox had just time to glance back at Mrs. Duck. “You wait! Tll catch you some day and you won't get off so easy, either.” “Well, here 1s your chance.” But Mr. Fox did not dare to look back, because he knew the dog was at his heeis. Mr. Fox looked back once in time to see Mrs. Duck quacking all she could by the litter of puppies. ROSE PARIZEK, Age 10. ‘West Willington. A Year In Boarding School. About two years ago my mother and father had to 8o to Kurope. They didn’'t want to take me, so they left me at a boarding school in Baltimore. At the boarding school the girls were divided into small groups and they went to seéparate houses under different teachers. They all came to the main house for their meals. After breakfast at half past ejght, a simiple mornnig prayer is said by the whole school in the main building. ' The recitation periods are from 9 to 12 in the morning and from 1'to 3 in the afternoon. ‘Walking, driving and riding are fa- vorite amusements. The periods from 4 to 6 are known as study hours. The girls study in their different houses. After supper, all the girls amuse themselves as they choose for an hour and a half. Many of the girls dance in the' gymnasium. They have to put their lights out at 9 o'clock. They have to recite on Saturday mornings as on every other day, but they have Monday out, because they are not allowed to study on Sunday. On Sunday the girls attend a morn- ing service in one of the churches in the. city. Just before tea the principal gives a short talk to all the school in the main bullding, After tea, they stay a while in the main school to sing, and then they go to their different houses to have a short Bible lesson. CATHARINE NELSON, Age 12. Versailles. Making Steel Rails. Before 1855 all rails were made out of iron, and by hand, because there was no maghinery as there is now. This way of making rails was very slow and would not satisfy the rall- roads of today. In 1865 a new process of making rails was begun. This way for making rails is still used. The rough pig iron Is put into a blast furnace, there it is heated until it reaches a liquid state. From here it is run into a Bessemer converter. This machine is very pow- erful and can make one ton of iron per minute. There is a large opening at the top of .the machine, into which air is con- tinually blowing through it from the bottom. When the pig iron reaches the con- verter, impurities, the most common of which is carbon, are burned by the oxygen in the air blast and goes out through the opening’ in the top as gases, leaving the finished product called Bessemer steel in the converters. ‘The next step is to get the metal into some convenient form for rolling. This is done by drawing the molten metal from the converters into molds. JAN O'’KELLY, Age 14. Versalilles. The Deer and the Fawn, A fawn is a young deer not a year old. The stag is a male deer and has branching horns. The deer is a timid animal. A small dog can frighten him. The flesh of a deer is called venison. Tne common deer of America was once found in great numbers through- out this country and it is still to be met with in the woods far from towns and houses. s ‘When chased by hunters, the deer will plunge igto a lake or river, if one can be reached, and try to escape by swimming. If they cannot do that, they will seek some high cliff or rock and tnere boldly face the hunters and the hounds. Somnetimes the deer are shot by the hunters, who'lle in wait for them near the salt springs or deer licks.. They are also tracked by hounds and shot by the hunters, who watch near the paths which the deer are used to take In_their runs. Sometimes the deer are shot in the night time. . A torch of pitch pine is carried by 'one of the hunters; the others, with their guns, keep in front. The deer, instead of darting oft when he sees the light, stops to look at it, land his eyes shine so that the hunter is. guided in his aim and shoots the poor beast. VERONICA ROCHELEAU, Age 13. North Franklin, The Lost Boy. As the hackney boat which carries passengers from Leyden to Amsterdam ‘was puti off, a boy running along the side the canal desired to bs taken in, which the master of the boat 'used, because the lad had not mony enough to pay the usual fare. An eminent merchant, being pleased with the looks of the boy, and secretly touched with compassion towards him, paid the money for him and ordered him to be taken on board. . ~ Upon talking with him afterward, he found that he could speak in three or four languages and learned upon further examination that he had been stolen away when he was a child by a gypay. and had rambled ever since with a gang of these strollers up and down several parts of Europe. It happened that the merchant, whose heart seems to have turned toward the boy by a secret kind of strength, had himself lost a child some years before. After a long search, the Parents gave him up for drowned in one ol the canals with which that country abounds, and the mother was 80 worried at the loss of her only son that she died for grief of it. After a while the boy proved to be the son of the merchant whose heart had melted at the sight of him. The lad was very well pleased to find a father who was =o rich and likely to leave him a good estate. The father, on the other hand, was not a little delighted to see a son re- turn to him whom he had given up for lost, with such a strength of consti- tution. sharpness of understanding and skill in_language. FANNIE ROSENBERG, Age 10. Norwich. Making a Pi Little Cathie had decided to make an apple pie. She announced the fact| to the whole family at breakfast ta-| ble and wasn't a bit discouraged at! the skeptical attitude of her elders— not even when her brother remarked he needn’t expect him to eat any, as be wasn't ready to dle, yet!” She was elght years old, going on nine: and had seen her mother make lots of pies, so she knew just how to do it. She had a feeling her pie would come out almost perfect; but the family Galy smiled and told her to show them the wonderful pie first, and talk afterward. Her mother was going away to spend the day so she would have the kitchen to herself. Of course, Aunt Molly would be there, but she promised not to interfere with Cathie while she made the pie. After she had wiped the dishes (Aunt Molly washed and she wiped them), Cathie sifted the flour very carefully, and got out the kneading board, roli- in pin, butter, crisco, etc., (You see she knew just how to do it. ) Then she put one exact even cupful of flour in the mixing bowl. So far, so good. But her mother didn't measure the butter and crisco, Cathie remem- ?elxied' she just took it out by spoons- ull. Cathie decided a ple needed lots of butter and crisco- so she was very, very liberal—it was really fun to meas- ure out the rounding spoonsfull, After the crust was finished and half of it rolled out and put in the bokt- tom of the tin (she had had an awful time rolling it out for it would stick), Cathie started to slice and pare the apples, Her mother made very fat pies, but Cathie decided to make a thin one as she was very fond of crust—a ple with a_thick crust and few apples and lots of spice and sugar would be ever so much better than a pie with a thin crust and lots of sliced apples. So Cathie sliced one thin layer of apples. Then for the sugar. _Cathie was very fond of sugar, so she just put in a great deal. She ate a spoon- ful. then put a spoonful in the pie, and wept it up till her stomach was satisfied, then she considered the ple satisfied, too. Her mother put in cinnamon and nutmeg in her pies, but Cathie thought it would be much nicer with all kinds of spice. So she sprinkled in cinna- mon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, ginger, mace and a little citron. She didn’t want her pie to be so juicy that the sides would burst open! S0 she put a layer of flour over the, spice, then she put on the crust. Well: the wonderful pie was baked in a good hot oven—I guess I won't| say any more about it, except that I'm| glad that I didn't get a taste of it. It was given to the pigs and, although| they ate it, one of them died a day lat- er from indigestion, CARRIE A. PRATT, Age 16. Pomfret Center, ishing. One warm day two boys went fish- ing, and as they were intending to stay all day each took & basket of lunch with them, If "was a mile and a haif to the near- cst brook. As the boys walked along the dusty road they talked of the fish which they expected to catch. On reaching the brook the hooks were soon baited, and it was not long before they were fishing. Harry caught the first trout which was about seven inches long. As it was nearing noon the boys took their lunch baskets and found a suitable place to sit down. ‘While Fred was crossing the brook he stepped on a slippery stone, lost his balance: and fell into the brook. He didn’t mind it as it was warm weather, and was dry before they had finished luncheon. Just before it was growing dark Harry felt something pulling on his line. Looking into the pool he saw a large trout over a foot in length. He jet Mr, Trout get a good hold and just as Harry was going to pull out the trout the end of the lihe which was loose slipped off the pole. He knew it was loose, but had forgotten to_tighten it, Both boys went home- disappointed and Harry told the story of the large trout, but the saying is, that the big- est fish that was ever caught was the one that g:(t away. ARY BURRILL, Age 13. Stafford Springs: —_— ‘Four-Footed ‘Milkman, A Gonkey's master - usually takes | about 13 vears old. | find some turned around and began to smile. Taen he fell down on the floor. The teacher took hold of him, but she_could not hold him. She had to let him go. My brother opened his looked all around him. He did not know it was the matter. He Is He is quite tall for his age, and his name is Isador Levine. When he was able to walk he went outside and sat down for a few minutes. Then he came in school. We thought he was going to die, but he did mot. YETTA LEVINE, Age 11. Colchester. A True Hero, Dear Uncle Jed! Once there was a little boy named Jacky. He had a dog named Hero. Jack father had a horse named Cass. He and Hero were great friends. When Cass was out with the carriage Hero always trotted by his side. Cass was pastured on an island and Hero went to see him every day. They had great frolics together; but at night Hero was at home so he could watch the house. One night in the middle of winter Jacky’s father heard Hero barking and he looked out to see what the trouble was and the stables were on fire. The firemen were called and they did the best they could to save the stables but their work was useless. Cass was in one of the stables and the men tried their best to get him out, but the stable was full of smoke and they couldn't get to him. Hero tried to save Cass, but he couldn’t. He ran to his master, then to the stable, he barked mnd howled, and at last he jumped into the blaze and lald down beside Cass. His master tried to coax him out, but he wouldn’t come and they couldn’t get t ohim through the fire. So he and Cass were burned to_death. By morning the stables were all burned; and only a few whitened bones were left of Hero and Cass; but these bones showed that Hero and Cass lay side by side through the fire. MILDRED EILER. eyes and W Merrow. Deer Hunting. Dear Uncle Jed: Deer hunting is a favorite amusement although the deer are very shy and timid enimals. If they are pursued by hunters they will plunge into a lake or river, if one can be reached, or will hide behind some HIgh cliff or rock. Various ways of hunting the deer are practiced in this country. Some- times they are shot by the hunters who wait for them near the galt springs or deer licks which they fre- quent, but the most common way used 1n the southern states is fire hunting, which is practiced at night. A torch of pitch pine is carried by one of the party, who keeps in front witt. his gun. The astonished deer, instead of running off, stands gazing at the flame. The hunter sees the eyes of the deer before him and fires and is usually successful. Bu. this kind of hunting by torch- light is dangerous, for the cattle that are feeding near by, because their eyves are mistaken for those of a deer. JOHN BUCKO, Age 12. Willimantic. A Search For Trailing Arbutus. Dear Uncle Jed: I am going to tell you about my walk in the woods, try- ing to find trailing arbutus, One Eunday afterncon one of my friends esked me to go with him to trailing arbutus. So aft- er dmner we started. We had to go across a litle stream of water beside “TIZ” FOR ACHING, SORE, TIRED FEET “TIZ" FOR TENDER, PUFFED-UP BURNING, CALLOUSED FEET AND CORNS. People who are forced to stand on their feet all day know what sore, tender, sweaty, burning feet mean. They use “TIZ” and “TIZ” cures thélr feet right up. It keeps feet in.perfect condition. “TIZ" s the only remedy in the world that draws out all the polsonous exudations which puff ‘up the feet and cause tender, sore, tired, aching feet. It instantly stops the pain in corns, callouses and. bunions. It's simply glorious. Ah! how com- fortable your feet feel after using “TIZ.” You'll mever imp or draw up your face in pain. Your shoes won't tighten and hurt your feet. Get a 25 cent box of “TIZ” now from any druggist, department or general store. Just think! a whole years foot comfort for only 25 cents. e pulled up my line quickly. I caught a fish an dwent home very happy as it was the first fish 1 ever caught. LAURENCE CURRY, Age 10, Yantio, — Her Knowing Cat, Dear Uncle Jed: 1 am a_gir] -from the Putnam home and I am 13 years of age. I have read a book you sent;a girl named Myrtle and it was very in- teresting to read. 1 am writing you. a letter about my kitty. She 1s a very pretty little cat and a knowing one. She up or to a chair or somet sees what day of the week it If we have a paper she puts -her paws on it and looks all over it. When she lies on the grass, if the sun 1s out, she looks up to see where the sunshine comes from. Sne is a very comical cat and tears up paper just like a child and-knows as muich as a human being. She is just about eight months old and is very funny indeed. RUTH PHILLIPS. South Canterbury. whose bunks grew a large bed of ev-; ergre: After tramping through the woods for an_hour, we came to blackberry patch- and a few apple path to a small foot path. After a Litle while we came to a vatch of wintergreen and picked a handful. But after our long search we could not find any trailing arbu- tus When we were going home we saw a large flock of wild geese; and we al- so saw some robins, which were sing- ing as if they were very happy. We then went home after our search for the flowcrs. We are going again it it is pleasant. I hope cther Wide-Awakes won™t have such a time as I, who tried but did not succeed that time. FETTA McGRATH, Age 12. Bozrahville. His First Trout. Dear Uncle Jed: One day in April I got up in the morning and saw it was very cloudy. Then I said to my- self that it would be a good day to go fishing. 1 asked my brother if he would go with me and he said he would, Then I got my pole, fish line and hooks ready. We started about half past seven. Tt waes a long way and the road was hard to travel. We soon got in sight of the old schcol house and heard the brock thundering down by it. Then we baited our fish hooks and walked soft- ly_into. the bushes. ‘We both dropped our lines into the rushing water. Then we walked down stream a lit- tle distance. We were not there long before my brother got a bite. Then be told me (o siay thers zad Dsin In the water lay a big stone. Tr about ten minutes I saw a trout dart care of him, but I know of a donkey that once took care of his master. It was across the ocean. The dohkey's master was a milkman. He petted his donkey a great deal He trimmed the donkey's harness with pretty gay colored tassels. The donkey loved his kind master. The man”did not talk his milk in wn}gunhu; ml‘l;l‘(rncn do ;:rfl:., a4 e hung, the ecans, and jugs over the donkey’s back. He led the donkey to his customers. One morning the milkman was sick. There was no one to send with the donkey. ‘At last he decided to send the donkey alone. So he tied on the cans. He also tied on a letter. It asked the people to take their milk and then to send back the empty cans. Then the donkey started off alone. After a while he came back all right ‘with the empty cans. ANK PARDY, Age 14. Norwich. LETTERS TO UNCLE JED. Our Harse. Dear Uncle Jed: I am going to write to you about our horse. Her name is Maud. She is very gentle. She will Efll‘ kick or bite us. She has 2 short ‘When my father hits her with a whip she switches her tail, and goes very fast. My er carries us every morning to school with her. ANNIE MOTYKA, Ags 10. Leonard Bridge. My Heifer. Dear Uncle Jed: Last year my fath- er gave me. a little calf. I named it Mamie. I'used to put milk in a pail and feed it every night and morning. It is_now quite big and is very pretty. She is lLlack and white. She is old enough now to eat hay and grain, and ‘I don't give her any milk. MARY MOTYEA Age 8. Leonard Bridge. Her Brother. Dear Uncle Jed: I thought to write you what happened one day in school. We were reciting history when the teacher saw Drother turning He out from the stone, I did not wait but then we crossed through a cart| al Martha Washington 29 East 20th St., near Fifth Ave. NEW YORK ADVANTAGES “The 450 bedreoms are for the exclusive use of women uests; the two lower floors con. aining a magnificent restaurant with orchestral music evenings and the grand lobby and second floor with numerous private pariors are fer both mea and women. The service Is of that even, careful Kind; nearly all the es are women; the tel 4% © o Bh one felo ber secured and lr’ graciously and at ail Teo the woman seeking pro- fessional, soclal or business i idence at the Mar- BhatWashington ls a real asset. cheerful room qA br‘l’h“ costs $1.50,per day and more for_a largcr room or one with bath. are served . both Tal be sent PIMPLES ON FAGE ~ FOR FIVE YEARS ftched and Burned. - Obliged to Scratch. Could Not Sleep. Face Disfigured. Used Cuticura for Six Weeks, Face Now Clears 8515 Division St., Fall River, Mass.—"T Sample Each Free by Mail ‘With 32-p. Skin Book on request. Ad- dress post-card ‘‘Cuticura, Dept. T, Bos~ ton.” “Sold throughout the world. WHEN YOU WANT 10 put your bus- iness before tne public, there is mno medium better than through the -ad- vertising ¢olumns of The Bulletin. 1 Emest E. Bullard VIOLIN TEACHER - All ‘String Instruments repaired Violins sold on easy terms For appointments address E. E. BULLARD, Bliss Place; Nor- wich, Conn. Our Line of 1915 Model Cameras- you a choice in sizes from .~ ny vest pocket size up to the size that takes postal card ictures. All the regular mod- els fitted with the patent view finder. Prices $2.00 to $20.00. Buy a Camera and enjoy tak- ing pictures this Summer. ‘THE PLAUT-CADDEN CO. . Establighed 1872 : PLAUT-CADDEN BUILDING" - F. C. GEER, Piano Tuner- 122 Prospect Street, Norwich, Conn. "Phore ‘511