Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, July 10, 1910, Page 24

THE OMAHA SUNDAY . BEE: JULY 10, 1910. O THE Busy Bees who are on vacations the other Busy Bees make the request that they write descriptions of these vacations, tell about the places they are visiting, the unusual places they are seeing and what they are doing. %0 the Busy Bees who are away really stay-at-homes. 1{ you try to see how much you can make evéry word count, mean sometn It i8 always unselfish to share our good times, and should share their trips with the tell in a sentence, that is how you can ing in tellmg the story, and the ac- counts of the vacations will not become too long. There is, by the way, a tendency among the writers lately to Conciseness is a valuable quality in w send in stories which are too long. rting and now is a good time to try to acquire it. Try it nmow; try to see how interesting a short story you can write about how you ave spending your vacation, whether at home or aw Those who win prizes this week are Ruth Kirschstein, 601 Grand ave- nue, Omaha; Marion Cross, North Platte, Neb., and Helen Antles, Stanton, Neb. Any of the Busy Bees may send cards to anyone whose name is on the Postcard Exchange, which now includes Jean De Lon Ire 7 Ln Mabel Witt, Bernington, Anna Gottseh, nnington, N Minnle Gottsch, Bennington, Agnes Dampke. Benson, Neb. Marie Galiagher, Benkelman, Neb, (Box 12) ida May, Central Clty, Neb Vera ey, Crel Louls Hahn, David City Rhea Froidell, Dorchest Aleda Bennet Eunice Bod Ethel Hulda Lun: Marlon Capj Marguerite Anna Voss, 407 West Charles street, Isiand, Neb. Hoth, 606 West Koenig street, Island, Neb, Ella Voss, #7 West Charles street, Island, Neb. Irene Costello, 116 West Eighth Grand_Island, Neb. § Jessie Crawford, 406 West Charles Grand Island, Neb. Pauline Schulte, Deadwood, 8. D. Martha Murphy, 83 BEast Ninth Grand Island, Neb. Hugh Rutt, Lesha eb. - Hester F. Rutt, Leshata, Neb, Alice Temple, Lexington, Neb. Ruth Temple, Lexingion, Neb Anna Nellson, Lexington, Neb. Edythe Kreits, Lexington, Neb. Marjorle Temple. Lexington, Neb. Alice. Grassmeyer, 1545 C sireet., Lincoln. Marian Hamilton, 2029 L street, Lincoin, Hamilton, 2089 L street, Lincoln. 2000 L, street, Linooin. 2000 I, street, Lincoln, 227 South Fifteenth sireet, Fremont, 1 burg, Frem. , Gibson, holomew, Gothenburg, Neb Grand Grand Grand street, street, street, Mildred Jensen, , 708 East Second street, Fremont, Neb. Johuson, Lincoln. . 24 North Sixteenth street, 334 South Seventeenth Lyons, Neb. nald, Lyons, Neb. Milton Selszer, Nebraska City, N Harry Crawford, Nebraska City Harvey Crawford, Neb City, Lucile Hagen, Norfolk, Ne Holen Reynolds, Norfolk, Neb. Letha Larkin, South Sixth Tolk, Neb. Emma Marquardt, Fifth street and Madi- son a Hluu!, }\'nr(olk" Is(:lb.l i Neb Genevieve ones, North Loup, Ne William Davis, 21 West Third stre North_Platte, Neb, Louise Raabe, 268 North Nineteenth ave- e, Omahi. F:‘um)nl Johnson, 933 North Twenty-fifth Twenty- et, Nor- venue, Omaha. . Marguerite Johnson. $ North fifth avenue, Omaba. Emile Brown, 25622 ulevard, Omaha. Helen Goodrich, 4010 Nicholas street, Omaha. Mary Brown, 2328 Boulevard, Omabha. Jva Hendee, #0: Dodge street, ahs. Lillilap Wirt, 4158 Cass street, Omaha. Lewis Potf, 5115 Franklin street, Omuha, Juanita Innes, 2769 Fort street, Omaha. Bassett Ruf, 1814 Binney street, Omaha. Meyer Cohn, 846 Georgla avenue, Omaha. Helen F'. Douglas, 1951 G street, Lincoin. Ada Morile, ¥ franklin street, Omah: Myrtle Jensen, 3908 Isard street Omahe. Orrin Fisher, 1210 8. Eleventh St., Om ha. Mildred Erickson, #169 Howard S Oscar Erickson, 2007 Howard St. Gall Howard, 4122 Capitol avenue, Omaha. Helen Houck, 168 Lothrop street, Omana. Emerson Goodrich, 4010 Nicholas, Omaha. Maurice Johnson, 1027 Locust 8t., Omaha. Leon Carson, 1124 North Forteth, Omaha. Wilna Howard, 4722 Capitol avenus, Omaha Hilah Fisher, 1210 South Hleventh, Omah Mildred Jensen, 2107 Leavenworth, Omah Eidna_Heden, 3i89 Chicago street, O Mabel Sheifeit, 4614 North eet, Oma Walter' Jonnson, 205 North Twentieth #treet, O Bmma Carruthers, 84l North Twenty-tifth street, Omal Leonors Denison, The Albion, Tenth and acific streets, Omaha. Mae Hammond, O'Nelll, Neb. Madge L. Daniels, Ord, Neb. Zola Beddeo, Orleans, Neb. Agnes Richmond, Orieans, Neb. Marle Fleming, Osce , Neb. Lotta Woods, Pawnee City 8 Barl Porking, Reddington.” Neb. Edna Bnis, Stantons Neb. Lena_Poterson, 2211 Locust St. E. Omal Tha Carney, Sutton, Clay county, Nebraska. Clars Miller, Utica, Neb. Mildred F. Jones, North Loup, Neb. Alta Wilken, Waco, Neb. Leo Beckord, Wuco, Neb. Mae Grunke, West Point, Neb. Hlste Stasny, Wilber, Neb. Frederick Ware, Winside, Neb. Pauline Parks, York, Neb. Edna Behling, York, Neb. \ Mary Frederick, York, Carrle B. Bartlett. Fontane Irene Reynolds, Little Sloux, I Bthel Mulholland, Box 71, Malvern, Ia. Eleanor Mellor, Malvern, Ia. Katherine Mellor, Malvern, ia. S e chevow. Thirman, Tn. Margaret B, ero; 3 Bertha Mekvoy, R. F. D. 3, Box %, MI souri Valley, Ia. Henry L. Workinger, 2062 W. Huron street, Chicago. Y Adlena Sorry, Monarch, Wyo., Box £ Fred Sorry, Monarch, Wyo. Pearl Barron, Monarch, Wyo. John Barron, Monarch, Wyo. Fdith Amend, Sheridan. Wyo. Pauline Squire, Grand, Okl. Fred Shelley, 20 Troup street, City, Mo. Mary ' Mclatosh, Sidney, Neb. 0 ney, Eonise i §32 North Logan stireet, mont., Neb. , Wilber, Neb. BI’?:::.“UII West Seventeenth street, Kansas ity, la. Sherman avenue, street, Omi Mabel Baker, Lander, Wyo. Nortnne Allison” Robertson, Wilber, Ne beth Wright, 1322 South Thirt; ._Omaha. P Staples, 1313 South Thirty-first Omaha. Betina and Mabel's Happy Fourth By H, lsn't It just too disappoint- ing?" eried Betina early on the morning of the Fourth as she stood by the window looking out at a pouring rain “Yes, it certainly ls, sister W sabel, who w s0 watching with disappointed eyes the downpour without. “And from the appearances of the sky It will keep up all day.” “You mean it will keep coming down,’ declared Betina, petulantly. “And we had expected to have such a glorious day in the woods—with all our best friends, too. 1t is really too ba “And after papa had engaged a plenic wagon for the day, t00," said Mabel. “And mamme bas gone to all sorts of bother ftixing @ lovely plenlc luncheou. And all our pretty flags ad flowern-with which to adorn the wagon—Iytsg In the parior, waiting to be put to use. 1t is wo terribly disappointing. | could just ery.’ . “Now, my dears, don't take it so te heart,” sald a sweet volce behind the girls, and the sisters turned to see their old srandmother entering the room, She Was neatly dressed In & black summer xiIK, her snowy hair done in a simple and be- coming style. Her face was beaming with youthful happiness, quite in contrast to the expression on the faces of Mabel and Betina “Oh, good morning. granny,” cried Be- tina and Mabel In & breath. Then as they both ran to kiss her good morning, Hetina said: “How lovely you look this morning, aranny dear. You always look so pretty but prettier than usual this morning. And you are all dressed as If 0 go out. 100 Don't you know It I8 pouring pitchforks® andmother smiled. “Yes 1 know the gardens and flelds ave in great luck this porning,” she sald. “They have hee thiraty for several davs, and now (hey are getting a good drink “But It might have rained tomgrraw,” complained Mabel nt (0 K0 Lo the country know every plan has been made fo eut in the woods. Mamma and paj Loth disappol 100, though they much sister and 1 do 1 don't understund vour ch the rest of the veser w Ay or Al =0 And A duy are today you won't And rtul household are »ay, a8 granny ness when sorrow," 8- us in 8 up a dew causes grandmother, putt warning fivger. “Do not Fay su Borrow comes from sertous than @ meie changing of plaos for of pleasurs. You may be disappointed you are tot sorrowing. And if ke me (o tell you why | am dr my best frock, and smiling euiue ¥t beside me in the llbrary will tell you of a Fourth of July o years ugo today Mabel and Beting were eager grandinamme tell of her past experience sud thelr faces clearcd us they went to the ry, uie on either side the dewr Iady. When thay were comfotably Peside thh big bay window e & mcent of damp lilacs srandimothier besan: more a day b You would happhy and 1 riy-five he old seuted through whie wnd ross, Relena Davis. “Well, just forty-five years came & great and happy event in my life. And in memory of it 1 always dress my- self In my best on the anniversary of that day. You see, my dear granddaughters, this is the first KFourth of July 1 have spent with you. Grandmother stopped to sigh and look into distance. Betina whispered: “Yes, grand- papa dled just after the Fourth of last And then you came €0 live with us.™ es, my dear; but even before I lost dear grandpspa 1 always observed the Fourth, and no matter Where we were on that day, we both put on our best clother made merry by going to some place wher & celebration was being held, or to visit with friends who helped us to celebrate, not only the glorious Fourth, but our own sary day." . then you and granpaps were mar- vied on the Fourth of July,” exclaimed Mahel. “‘Was that it, granny?* Grandmamma shook heér head, smiling the while. “No, dearle, we met for the first time on the Fourth of July, just forty-tive years ago today. And, oh! how handsome and noble your grandfather was that day. 1 shall never forget how I reaily lost my heart of him when my Cousin Robert in- troduced us. You he-your grandfather was . college chum of Cousin Robert's, and Wwas spending’ the vacation at Robert's couptry home. 1 went out from the eity to stay over the Fourth at Uncle Clem's home, and there met the young man who & vear later became my husband. You see, VI, GOOL MORNING (First Prize.) An Ideal Fourth By Ruth Kirschsteln, Aged 11 Years, il Grand Avenue, Omaha, Neb. Red Side. “Children," said Mrs. Jameston, “wouldn't you rather go without those dangerous fireworks and have a pleasant day in the woods with a tew of your friends instead?’ Mrs. Jameston stopped and looked at the row of thoughtful faces before her: Mary Alice, who was fourteen; Charles, who was eight, and Elizabeth, who was five, “You know so many children have been hurt by the pow- der, and it would be lovely to go out in the woods for the day.” “Oh, mother,” begged Charles, “it will be Just horrid it we don't have any fireworks. ‘The Fourth of July wouldn't seem natural unless I made my share of the noise. The fellows would say that I was afraid of a little bit of powder” “But, Charles,” argued his mother, “about 4,300 children were either hurt ser- fously or killed last year by what you seem to think a little bit of powder. We don't want you to get either hurt or Kkilled, nd when you get to the woods, Harry Vandike and you can make all the noise you want to without powder." ‘'Oh, yes, mother,” exclalmed Mary Alice, “could I take Carolyn Wel Mrs, Jameston nodded. ‘‘And Elisabeth may take her little friend, Marjorle Mason,” she sald. “Who will you and papa take?” queried Mary Alice. Her mother smiled. “We will take the mothers and fathers of your friend: The morning of the Fourth of July awned bright and warm. “Children! Children!"” called Mr. Jami ton. “Its the Fourth." Instantly three pair of feet were heard to spring out of bed, and in a few minutes the three children ran lightly down the Atairs to where their parents were walting for them. After a hasty breakfast, the baskets were packed and the carriage drove up to the door, When all were in, Mr. Jameston directed the coachman to the Oakland's where Mary Alice's friend, Carolyn Wells lived. The next place was called “Mason Grove' and las ail Charle's friond, Harry Vandike was taken up At “Stormereat.” Thé three little guests did not know that when the carriage drove away leaving them In a beautitul little place, that it was going back to get their parents, for that was to be kept a sur- prise. “Lets go and explore this cunning place,” sald Carolyr So the six children set out. The placa was truly beautiful. The dark, green trees looked down at the children playing in their shade and would seem to Wwhisper, “Shi Watch the children play. Shi Eh!" A clear little brook ran among the trees and the children immediately wanted to wade In it, for the white pebbles at the bottom offered a tempting foot path. Gay butterflies flitted among the dark, green branches, and squirrels stopped to observe the strangers who were Intruding on thelr premises. A little rabbit sniffed cautiously at the lunch basket. but not finding anything to sult him, hopped away. Just then the rumble of the carriage coming back attracted their attention and when Mr. and Mrs. Mason, Mr. and Mr Vandike and Mr. and Mrs. Wells stepped out the children's joy knew no bounds. A little later, a regular picnic luncheon was served. When they were about through, Charles heard a hungry snap of teeth behind him. Turning, he saw the rabbit. “Poor little rabbit,” and Blizabeth in a breath,” something to rolyn and Marjorle gave the rabbit & generous supply and wsent him away happy. He must have told the squirrel about his good luck for in a minute the squirrel appeared. After having gotten a few nuts he whisked his tall and scampered away. The afternoon wus spent in wading, lounging around in the hammocks, play- ing games and telling stories about the Fourth. When evening came the ohildren were called to supper. It had been pldnned with skill, for woodbine clambered over the snowy tablecloth. Everything but the orangeade was shaped like a firecracker. The sandwiches were round with a'littie cheese fuse and the peppermint firecrackers were much better than the ones with powder, for they lasted lon Soon after, when all was dark, they lighted some harmless fireworks, such as “sparklers” and & few othe Mr. Van- aike thought that the children would like to pretend the play, “As You Like It.” Getting up he sald: *I am the duké that was banished by his wicked brother. I have come to these quiet woods to escape trom the dangerous (firecrackers) K that surrounded me, and Harry may be Orlando, Charles, the messenger, and the coach- man, James, may be Adam. The rest of you are my faithful followers.”” The children, well as the grown folks, cried Mary, he Alice wants e e e e e e e ] your grandfather graduated with honors the following spring and soon after that proud event we were married.” Again grandmother paused to look Into distance, and a soft little sigh fell from her smiling lps. "“Oh, it seems as though it were yesterday,” she went on. “I reached Uncle Clem's home—a fine old southern plantation—on the evenmg of the 3d of July. Cousin Robert and his visitor, young Andrew Harden, had gone to the city for tireworks with which to celebrate on the following evening. So I did not meet An- drew tlll the next morning. And when 1 came down to breakfast he and Cousin Robert were standing in the gredt, wide hall, looking out on the most beautiful rain I ever saw fall. Before coming down stairs I had sighed and sald to Cousin Betty: “Ob, lan't 1t & pity to have a rain on the Fourth? But Betty had replied: ‘No, Cousin Hattie, we need the rain so much. Papa was saying that if it did not rain within two or three days the crops would be ruined. But we'll have all sorts of fun In the house today, for we'll have u great crowd of young folks with us. They'll come from all the plantations round about in spite of the rain.’ year—responded to Cousin able and patiiotic toast. And how proud I was of him, too, though he was yet al- most & stranger to me. And how we all cheered him Lo the echo when he sat down, his noble youug face fiushed from excit: ment! Ob, it was such & happy day! And all the while the raiu poured without. But sunshine glowed within, “Well, soon after dinner, much to our surprise, the clouds cleared away, and ol of the finest afternoons in my memory wi ours to enjoy. We made marry on the broad veranda till after the sun went dowa Robert’s 1nu: GRANNY," CRIED BETINA AND "Then, after a light supper in the spacious dinfng room, we girls burried to our rooms and dressed for the evening. And when wo returned to the drawing room we found the boys had also donned evening attire, and had cleared the dining room preparatory for a dance. Three of the finest musiclans of the gounty had been engaged for the oc- casion and furnished the music for u “It was a bappy moment for me when your grandfather—young,- handsome, ..n- drew Harden—asked for the first darce, which was the Virginia reel. And betore the evening was over I had promised 1o allow him to call at my home in the oy, to mest my parent: Again grandmother lapsed into a short silence, closing her eyes this time as if to shut out evrything which had passed ance that happy dey, 45 years ago. And just as she was about to continue her narrative the door opened and in came her daughter, Mabel's and Betina's lovely mother, Ehe was smiling and excited, “Why, here you are, you three preity dears,” she cried. *“And I have been look- ing all over the house for you. Don't you see that it has stopped raining, and the sun |s coming out glorfously? We'll have our picnic aftér all, for papa has just had @ long-distance phone from Bentonville ikt it has not beén raining there at all, and that the woods are in & perfectly lovely condition. So, come, the young folks will &1l be herq in & few minute d pape has plioned for the plcnie wagon.” “Ob, lsn't that loyely?' cried Betina and Nabel. ‘Then turning to grandmamme, Betina whispered: ““Oh, granny, how I shall always want to celebrate the Fouctn af July after thig—on your account and on dear grandpapa's, too. And I shall never mind If it does rain on that day MABLEL entered eagerly Into the play and James felt quite compliiented in being given the mportant part of Adam. At last after all he misfortunes in the play, the messenger came with the joytul news that the duke's penitent brothar geve up bis unjust duke- dom. Everybody gol into the carriages and after a serles of good-byes, their friends were left at their homes and the James ton's rode to their own lLome Next day Carolyn Wells came over on Ler pony to Mary Alice. you heard?’ :he asked breathiessly “Heard what?' querled Mary A “Gertrude Ludwig, Richard Barnee, and his little Faby brother, who was standing by, were all hurt vesterday some fire- works and Gertrude Jsn't expected to live.” “Poor Gertrude!” exclalmed Mary Alice, “1 did not know her very well, but I think she Is just as sweet as she can be and 1 am terribly sorry she is hurt, but oh, olyn! I'm so glad that we were safe in the woode," she cried, and all the chil- dren echoed her. dashing see Have (Second Prize.) Uncle Tom to the Rescue Marion Cross, Aged 14 Years, 212 East Fidi Street, North Platte, Neb. Hiue Side, “Oli! oh!” cried Bobby, coming home one afternoon from a concert and runuing into the parlor, “you just ought to have went an' heard that lady sing. My, but she can sing, just lke a bird, You—" “What did she sin his mother rupted him. “Um~well, I don't just 'sackly member what the name of it was, but it was sumthin' about ‘How Could I Leave You," and “The Thought Does Grieve Me Sad.’ “Ho! ho!" exclaimed his big brother Jack, “just listen to that. ‘The thousht does grieve me edd’ Wouldu't that-—"' “Well, how do you say it then if—" “Why, my boy,” began Jack patroniz- ingly, “its just as easy ay falling off a log. Its like this; ‘The deep thought sad doth grieve me.' “Why, Jack,” laughed his sister Helma, ‘“you aren’t any better than Bobby with all your bragging because you are Wwrong, too. This Is the way it is: ‘The deep, sad thought doth grieve me. “Huh! That ain't right, don’t sound right. Grandpa, what it is.” “Well, my dears, I've heard that song & good many times and I'm pretty sure its like this: ‘The thought doth grieve me deeply.” “Yes, that's right,” said grandma, “only instead of ‘deeply’ it Is ‘sadly.’ " “N-no, that don't sound just exactly right,” said Aunt Adelald slowly, “isn't it something Nke this: ‘The deep thought doth sadiy grieve me?’ ““Here comes Uncle Tom!" suddenly ex- claimed Bobby, “I'll bet he can tell. Say uncle, which fs it? “Which is what?'" After they had explained matters he stobd a moment, thinking, then he sald quietly, this is it: *“The sad thought deep doth grieve me? Isn't that it? “Why, of 'cour once. inter- 1 know. It you tell us (Honorable Mention.) Dorothy’s Lesson By Helen Antles, y e :: ;MY. rs, Stanton, Dorothy was a little .girl of 8 She had the much of everything and yet she wa very selfish and would give nothing away. One day while she was playing with her new toys she fell aslesp. She dreamed she was @ poor girl, her mother washed for & living bacause her father was dead. She dreamed that across the street lived a vich girl who had everything she wanted, but would give her nothing at all. Just then she awoke. She jumped up and put her new to In her apron and went down stairs. On the stalrs she met her mother. BShe told her about the dream. She said she was going to give her toys to the poor children, and did. That evening Dorothy’'s mother rewarded her with a beautiful necklace for her kindness. The Comfort of Easter Day By Vera Kackley, Aged § Years, Moor- croft, Wyo., Blue Side. The child was crying. His mother was desd and under the ground. His aunt was to take care of him, but it was not like having a moth “Why, dear, the spirit 1s up in heaven and she can see you and she is watching you now,” eald the aunt soothingly “She is dead. If she is watching me why doest't she kiss me and answer me when I call,” the child burst into sobs. “She can't answer you when she is in heaven, chiid, and you only kissed the house she lived fn," said the aunt. “Lot me show you something to prove 1d the aunt 8he led the boy (v a wood and 10 & small tree. “Bee this branch, it is all dry and not Pretty,” she said as she held out a branch of the tree. “‘But soon ft will be full of leav “IU's Just dried up and dead, and not good for_anything only 1o burn in & fire. I'm BoIng to take it home and burn it up,” sald the child. Oh, don't, and we will come back to see it in two ‘weeks,” said vhe aunt. “Oh, see here. There i¥ & cocoon,” said the aunt s she picked up & cocoon. What ar u golng to do with that; ke it home and burn i up?' No, I'll not burn it up,” said the aunt, by that time they were home. The aunt 100k & pan, covered the top with a screen and put it In the sun. Two weeks later the aunt led the way the woods and pointed to the same branch that the boy was going to burn up and behold, it was covered with bright &reen leaves Tsn't to pretiy I sald t Isn't the e child one that aunty, that really SUig to burn up? Yes, it 18" suld the aunt sweet with the dear oves that thel “Seen to be gone clght. Now we must g oeoon that 1 put i the pan ¥o she led the child to the pan ar Ju vou suppose’ Iu It and yellow butterti What shall | aunt Let 1t (ore the Away I was it Ho | see that but are hotie a d what was @ beautiful red do with It d the 80" said the ‘ehild jereen off of the pail flew (he butterfly e alr t i with the demr ones that we luve the aunt. “They seem to be gone, really they are only out of sight Motio: Do not wish thiat the lieaven weie u his ear having dead ones bocause they -are Ben and the Fairy Ada Donaldro boro, Ia. Ones there was was Ben, H 1ad By ars, Hille. little to herd wod Loy whbse name geese all ¢ WO [ % [ Busy LITTLE QUEEN OF THE BUSY LITTLE BEES HELTEN VERR(LT. Helen Verrill, who hag been Queen of the Busy Bees during the last three months, will spend her vacation visiting relatives In New Haven, Conn. Helen is observing and has written excellent stories about birds, trees, butterflies and other subjects of interest to the Busy Bees, all of whom hope that she will continue send- Ing stories to the children's page during vacation. &0 to Bed without any supper. He lived with & cross old aunt who was very cruel to him. One day when Ben was i2 years old he got up early in the morning. His aunt was very oro He was afrald that she would glve him a beating =0 he went out with the geese before breakfast. . The geese did not want to go the right way, when he got them out of one place they went into another. After a while he sat down on a stone and began to cry, he was tired, hungry and faint. Just then he heard a volce behind him. He looked up and saw a fairy. She had ® key in one hand and a wand in the other. Ehe gave him the key and told him that he could do almost anything with it. When the fairy disappeared he touched the rock he was sitting on and said: “O, rook spread me some dinper,” and behold, it was a table and it had many good things to eat on it and when he was done it dis- appeared and he was sitting on the same old rook. ‘The next morning he went out to the field before breakfast, because he would have a’ better one in the field. His aunt called to him and told him that breakfast was ready. He only said he didn't want any and went on with the geese. Ben's aunt wondered why he didn't eat any breakfast and thought she would go and see When she got out to the field he was eating breakfast. She ran toward him, He got up and walked away and his table disappeared. This made her angry and she tovk her cane and beat him because he ate at such a beautiful table without asking her. Ben got angry, too, and ran away till he me t0 & man on a horse. Ben asked him to sell his horse, The man dld so and got off and went on foot. Ben wondered where he would go, then he thought he would go ana see the queen. After two days’ of travel Ben came in sight of the castle. He went up to the castle and tied his horse to the fence. The prince was on the Eteps looking at Ben. Of course the prince did not know Ben %0 he asked his name. Ben told him hls name was Ben King. The prince said that his name was Howard King and that Ben was his brother who had been Kkid- naped by & woman who claimed to be his aunt, but was not. S0 Ben had a happy time after that 8hun Delay Myrtie Williams, Aged 11 Years, Atkin- son, Nob. Hed Side. One day an old farmer w est town with some product When he had attended to all he stabled his horse at nn to #oe tho greatest lawyer in town On being shown into the he sald: “Nov your advice Yeu,' unswe ratter? Thet is ¢ By it o nesrs of his farm, 15 bu vl v noss, an n find 10 Trouble at 1 oam i avier, shouted Then he “John Hrown," was Oceupation “I'm a farmer” sald Jobn The ‘lawyer wrote it down and something which the farmer conldn’t m out When the farmer arrived homa, & numbe: of his work people at talking to his wife “Hore tell us what to do. Then she told her husband that tie was ready 1o be carvied In and the wanted to know whether thoey s for the night or work till the field aloan He took the paper from his handed it to his wife, who took It and » woud: “John Brown, farmer. 1o not off till tomorrow what you ean do tod “Away to the flelds, lads,” sald farmer, “and get the hay in." The men weut to the flelds and worked with & will until they were clear. As thev were carrying In the last load a few drops of rain fell. In the night a grent tempest burst over valley. When the farm awoke in the morning several of his fiel were flooded. You can jmagine how glad he was that he had nat put the work oft 0l tomorrow. “A fgmous advice that w wald farmer. “I'll never put anything off again.” The farmer kept his word and found that the woild went smoother ever after. FOR THE IMMORTAL M'GUFFEY Potentinl Mentor of Approaches the Fame. 1 the old man his r the answe he found his’ door John," fed, e she ¢ mien ho "top were pocitet the the School Willlam McGuffey, edncator, heads the latest list of nomiuees for the hall of famo, 1t is potent as a magic carpet—that three-line news item. Back you go in mem- ory to the front bench where the reading class used to sit when June days were longer than they are now. You are done with asking “Ned, how far can you hop?” and urging “Up, up, Lucy, for the sun is shining.” You have sald goodby to the saving boy who never wasted a bit of string and to the pry- ing lad who opened the closet door and pulled unexpected punishment down on his head. In your hand Is & much fin- gered “McGuffey,” flower of the e series, full of “elegant extracts, in prose and poetry’'—450 pages of them— with ‘“coplous rules and rhetorical exer- clses.” You are in the fifth reader, “low does the water come down at Lodore That splashing, dashing cata- ract'cools the room, drowning out the sleepy drone of the flie Teacher beglns with that because everybody Iikes it. Then the scene switches to the highlands. You read of the “‘deadly feud” that '‘subsisted almost from time immemorial between the fami- lies of Macpherson of Bendearg and Grant of Cairn,” and your blood boils again. Further still you fare with the old Mc- Guffey as gulde. At midmight in his guarded tent the Turk lles dreaming of the hour and you surprise his slumbers. You visit the coliseum by moonlight and buried Herculaneum and burning Sappro's isles of Greece. You cheer Godlike Hector and his troops, tread the streets of Mispeh with Jephthah's warriors. Not a bell Is hedrd as Sir John Moore's corse is hurried to the ramparts, The old thrill comes back with the story of the eagle and its flight up, up to the crags with Haonah Lamouad's bairn in its talons. There was “The Ambitious Youth' who cut his fnitials in the bridge, cutting, climbing, 300 feet above the “awful abyss that awaits his almost certain fall.” “Keep your eye to the top—don't look down, shout the rescuers, Now he has caught the rope—is “recovered from the yawning gulf of eternity.’ McGuffey introduced Shakespeare and you read of potent, grave and reverend seignlors for the first time, sollloquized with Hamlet, buried Cacsar, W the dread moons that followed the death of Prince Arthur, lamented with Wolsey, “A long farewell to all my greatnes: Scott led you with Marmion to Surrey’s camp, by the McGuffey magic. Goldsmith told the story of Mme. Blaize. Addison showed you Dis dream plain “vhere every man brought his most G. cested burden to exchan, for the worse—with his neighbor. Patrick Henry cautioned you that “It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope.” You shouted for “‘Harry, lingland and St George” in one reading lesson and in an- other grew patrioticslly hoarse over “Free- dom from her mountain height” untfurling “her standard to the air.”” Pope, Dryden, Mrs. Shourney, Southey, Mrs. Hemans and the pligrim fathers. Bryant with his “Than atopsle,” Dickers and bis sick scholar, Tom Hood and his telling punster's tale of Ben Battle, Reinzi har uing the Romans these were the people of the world on the reader class bench, and when you met them later, what old friends wney seemed! “But We must pause,” says the honorable gentleman.” The little old brown schoolhouse is gone You can't ever go witn bare legged Tom Hopkins to get & pall of water from the Andrews farmhouse again, or pase the water when it comes, or dig sweetllag down by the brook at recess or pick Dutchman's brecches in the woods back of the school nouse. The old maples are there, where you climbed with your winner pail at noon ~but you dou’'t est your lunch now out of & tin pail up in the top of & maple tree Onge you gave the stump of your biggest pickle to Jenuie Thompson because she had spilied iuk on the frone of her new pink singhain apron and vinegar would taks out ink and mother would #60ld s0—— Yes, it Iv not only Me. Addibon, ‘roatning alone In Westminster abbey—and confid hix musings to the fifth reader class at( tinds his mind turning o the no mere. MoGuffey in Who worthier erwind that duys that @ all of fame? PHavaland duvenile Lowle ad b Fow ild ou U nidey 'L g0 awey would make & . 3 No: i & wiinat A spldor wouldn't it my son, drop of me L a rly, ldn't i ? BupPOsILE it would thibi'n Just it, dud want you o tell me iy this keep a lon for more than a AURFL G molasses? A then the sound o bt uchoes of ok Ao N e would satleticd wita Now, wiat | Could & ma with & m