The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 2, 1896, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY,_}AUGUSTV 2, 1896. 27 Fair-matron of the vear, Thy evildren now are all arotnd.thee; Flowers, ffuits, all things that bless and cheer Green earth and silvern skies surround thee Thy youth fulfilled, thy charms commana mj lays, | And make-me devotee to August days. . J. M. WETHERELL. “‘How do youdo? Good luck to you!’ Ahother new month— August! The year more than half gone already. It ddoes not seem possible. That shows ho'w busy we’ve all been, doesn’t it? “Tim always flies when we've lots to do! August,* the fair motaer month of thr year—the month of ripeness and harvest! Yes, and the end of playtime for you, dears. I'm sure you "all remember the pretiy poppy page wehad in March, don’t you' ‘We!l, I wish we might have another onc to-aay, for August has chosen that flower with which to bring peace and sleep to al! tihe busy workers of the year as a rewarc forthe bountiful harvest which they lav at her feet! Not algne has she selected California’c *‘golden cup,” but also the great, gorgeous many colored garden poppies that now are - so -freely -blooming. And so she ‘“‘comes-stealing, comes creeping” like the “Rock-a-hy Laay’’ of Eugene Field— “With popples that hang from her head to her feet. Once upon a time a great ruler lived ir Rame whose name was Augustus Cesar, and in hopor of him was the name August giver to the present month, for at this séason of the yéar had come to him all tue best fortane of his iife. July, you remember, had been named in hongi- of Julius Cgsar and was give thirty-one days at the time the calend-r was changed, while to the month follow- ing qnly.thirty were given. Augustus, not wishing to be less hon- ored than Julius, changed the calendar so that Augusi, too, might have thirty-onc days. In mythology August is represented by the figure of a naked man with wildly streaming bair. . To his mouth he is bold ing a dsinking-horn with both hands, w ‘by .his side are three melons, a bundle of peacock-festhers and a large drinking-vessel. s The sardonyx, which is of a reddish- yellow color, is the previous stone for Augmst, -, . 55 " Wear a sardonyx— The August-born Without this stone, ", *Tis said, must live Unloved and alone. And now I leave you for a time, hoping | that August, with the warm glow of its * sunshine, with its azure skies and fleecy ‘clouds, with its filmy mists o’erhanging mountgin-top and dreamy bay, with its _buzz of bee and coo of dove, may bring to “the boys and girls of *Childhood’s Realm” PUZZLE WORKERS. . . Names of those answering correctly ali or a majorily of puzzles for July 19: Annie | Stieipper, Lou Parsons, Dora Fritshi, Etta- Peabody, Dora and Etta McCarty, Birdie Tapkucker, Gertie Chadwick, B. M. Laulhere, Retha Waldau, Madalena Lagomsrsino, Emily Halling and Bessie . Oreiard, * For July 26: Emilia Nardin and Madalena Lagomarsino. Stories were received this week from: | Constance Keohan, Clara Elkins, Grace Slover and Atice B. Helmet. The word hunt was fine. Lou Parsons ‘wa¥ . the ,successful huater, finding the most words. * Phis week I’ wish you all to write the story of the very happiest day of your vacation. W.rite only on one side of the paper ina good; plain.style. A L SACKS POKEVILLE YACACION. «“Whatamuses you, Jack ?” said the head bookkeeper, as he looked up from his big ledger ‘and saw a smile on the boy's face opposite. “#[—1I just landed a five-pound bass,” said Jack, laughing and blushing a litile. “Um~—ah, did it pull very hard ?" “Fearful,’” said Jack, All through the year Jack had been say- ing the ‘money for his trip. He was assist- tant bookkeeper for Brown, Bridges & rts full of thanks for a life so sveet.” | | “rom the commercial college two years be- ore. Jack was an orphan. The small means left him by his parents had been exhausted Jctore his education had been completed, 50 that his first year’s savings he had used | ‘o repay money advanced to him by an .:ncle to complete his course. His savings this year he was investing n building stock, with the exception of §1 weekly, which he put aside for no other »urpose than a trip to the bass streams or he Alleghanies. All through the dark winter days, as he sondered over the long rows of figures, he 1ad paused now and then to muse for a noment of green mountains, blue skies, :lear, rushing water, and feel in imagina- sion the tug and swish of a tauf line and :he rapid click of the running reel. Then ais eyes would sparkle for & moment and ! 3e was no longer in the dim and dusty little office. He had calculated that the $52 would pay his expenses. He had figured itout over and over and knew the items by heart. There were excursion rates to the mountains and his round-trip ticket would cost him §12. Then ttere was his toard at a farmhouse, which he calculated =t $20. He could get a good rod, reel and line for $10, and for general items he al- lowed $10 more. That night as they closed the books the *head bookkeeper said to him: *Jack, have you been to see Harris lately ?” “No,” said Jack, “but I will go to-night. How is he?”” *Not very well, poor fellow; he doesn’t improve very much, 1’m afraid. The city now is so hot, you know, and the doctor says the dust and smoke are bad for him, He coughs a good deal, and you know what that leads to.” Tom Harris had been their shipping clerk. He was a tender-hearted, good- | natured fellow, whom Jack had always liked for his outspoken, friendly way. He was not very strong, however, and EDITED BY W MARY W RICHARDS one day during the winter had contracted a severe cold, terminating in pneumonia. This attack he had overcome, but it had left him very weak and with a disagreeable cough. " His mother, a widow with a small posi- tion, had found it a hard matter to live without her son’s assistance, although Tom’s employers had gensrously assumed his drugs and doctor bills, while the em- ployes from time to time sent or carried such books and delicacies as he could en- joy. Jack had visited him pretty regularly until the last few weeks, during which time the prospect and preparation for his outing bad occupied his evenings almost to the exclusion of everythiug else. After supper Jack went to the market and filled a basket with fresh, ripe frmt. Then he hurried off to atone for his neg« lect. By and by he climbed three flights of stairs to a close little flat where Mrs. Har- ris and her son lived. Tom was overjoyed to see him, and the tender-hearted fellow choked a little as he thanked him for the fruit. Jack sat down by him, and they talked of matters at the store, and the spirits of both-rose as Jack told some amusing things that had hap- pened lately. “You know young Bridges is doing your work,"” he said, laughing. “Yes, you told me,” replied Tom, with a little sigh. “Well, he doesn’t like it very well, but his father wouldn’t getanybody in your place. He said Charlie could just as well do it till you came back. He had lots of trouble at first, but gets along pretty well now. He’s not a pad fellow, either, but an awful dandy—wears a silk nat and patent leathers.” “Yes, I know, and I recollect once he fell down in the mud and came into the office nearly crying.”” “Yes—well—and you know big Jim, the drayman?’’ *:Oh, yes; Jim has been to see me twice. The last time he brought me a big sausage CHABBB ARD H1$ CTUB. -~ To little John Adolphus Chubb Your kind attention I invite ; Oh, how he loves to bathe and scrub Each day and morn and eke at night! Now John Adolphus William Chubb, A fine young elephant is he; And when he’s in his little tub, Oh, ’tis a pleasant sight to see | His nurse, a motherly old thing, No need to coax the rogue has she; Bros., where he bad been since grndmun! Adolphus, when he sees her bring The water, trumpets in his glee, Oh, how he loves the cold, cold stream Descending on him in the tub} He feels as if he’d like to scream— . He loves it so—does William Chubb. And then, the evening’s washing o’er (Though he could wish it lasted still), His nurse will say: “Come, come, no more ; You’ve had enough now, Master Will 1” —~Frank Leslie’s Pleasant Hours. overa foot long. His wife made it, an’ she says: ‘Jim,” saysshe, ‘take this ’ere sorsidge to Master ’Arris,’ for she says, ‘Jim,’ says she, ‘there’s nowt fer elewatin’ the witals like good Henglish sorsidge, an’,’ she says, ‘Jim,’ says she, ‘vou will hexpress ‘my haffections to Master *Arris an’ to 'is ma, likewise.” It's wicked for me to imitate Jim, but I was so glad to hear him taik again that I wanted to cry and laugh ai the same time.” Jack laughed, too. till the tears came. “But I was going to tell you about Char- lie Bridges,” hesaid. *The other evening Jim was waiting for him to make out some shipping receipts, and went over in the corner, where it’s kinder dark, you know, to sit down on on the stool there. Well, just as he plumped himself down he felt something pop and squash under him and jumped up like he was shot. It was Charlie’s silk hat. Everybody laughed, except Jim and Charlie. Jim was awful sorry and offered to pay for it, while Char- lie shed tears, but refused the money. The boys liked him the better for that, and he and Jim are as good friends as ever.” Tom laughed so heartily that he began coughing in a way that cut Jack to the heart. His motoer brought him some water, and when his cough was quieted Jack had grown sad and silent. ““What is the doctor doing for you?”’ he asked,‘after a long pause. “Not much, now,” sald Tom, a little sadly, “He says 1 need fresh air most, and that if I could get strength my cough would stop.” Jack continued to look grave and offezed no reply. “I must try and get back to work by Oc- tober,” contthued Tom. “Justthink, I have lost eight whole months; it is terrible,” and tears stood in the poor fellow’s eyes. “Where would you go for an outing, old boy 7’ asked Jack, after a pause. “Oh, I don’t know; I haven’t considered it. Almost any place in the country where I could get away from this smoke and have fresh air. Yes, there is a place,” he added. *‘Iv’s where we used to live be- jore we came to the city,” and he glanced quickly at his mother, who bent low over her sewing and did not seem to be listen- ing. “I should like to go there. It isabout fifty miles north of here, and there are nice woods and a little stream, where I used to catch perch and chub, I should like to go there again and fish. I know people there, too, and I don’t believe it would cost more than $15 s month for board,” and the sick man’deyes shone at the thought of his old village ana the stream with its perch and chub. An hour before Jack would have laughed scornfully at such sport, but he did not langh now. Pretty soon he said good- night to Tom and his mother and walked home under the street lamps thinking. That night when he got to his room he made a new caiculation. It ran as fol- lows: Threa round-trip tickets to Pokeville ‘Board for three, one month.. . Flsh-lines and hooks for perch and chubs.... 100 Then he wrote a little note. “Dear Tom,” it said, “I am going to take a vacation in September, and as I will waut company I invite yon to go with me; also your mother, to take care of us. I have been saving the money for a year, and I have enough for a month’s trip for all of us. You can prepare to start next week. Iwill come up to-morrow night and will talk it over. Jack.” Jack Brainerd never spent a happier month in his life than that which he spent with Tom and his mother at Pokeyille. Tom seemed to get better from the first day, and betore the month was over was thoroughly himself again. Mrs. Harris visited her old friends, while the young men spent whole days in the woods, some- times fishing, sometimes just lying be- neath the big trees. When they returned to the city the hot, dusty weather was over, and they went back to work bronzed and strong, and ever since then they have been inseparable friends. MexDocINo Crry, July 21, 1896, Dear Editor: My papatakes THE CALL and he likes it very well. Iread the children’s page, and, as I zaw the story about the ducks, I will send you a piece about them that I found in my story-book. I have guessed some of the puzzles and will send you the answers. 1 have no more to tell you, so I wili close. Your reader, EMILY HALLIN (13 years). Mendocino City, Cal. £AN FraNcISco, Cal,, July 23, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first attempt at let- ter-writing and hope you will publish it. Ism 9 years old and I am in the fifth grade. Papa takes THE CALLand likes it the best. We have three dogs and three cats. Thecats are fine ratters, which you know is very good, and of thedogs, two are small, especially one. ‘We have lots of fun with them when papa comes home. Iam so glad vacation is over soon, so we all can go to school again; you know, I mean my sisters and brother. Oh, that brother’'s & mischief. His name is Willi d he's a perlect tease. I think all Willie: like that; but he isa good boy. I shall now close, hoping to see my letter in the Sunday CALL. A reader. AIMEE FRITSHL Novaro, July 23, 1896. Dear Editor; Thisis my first letter to THr CaLL. Ilive in San Francisco, but I am spend- ing my vacation in Novato. I like the children’s page and wish there were two. I am 12 years of age and have no brothers or sisters. I am bromoted to the seventh grade, I hope thisletter will escape the wastebasket. Iremain your little reader. B, M. LAULHERE, 8ea ViEw, July 23, 1896. Dear Editor: We have been taking THe CALL for 'a number of years and I am very much pleased with the children’s page. This is my first attempt at story-writing and Ihope it is good enough to publisb. Your iittle friend, MAY FITZGIBBON. SAN FRANCISCO, July 23, Dear Editor; 1 read the children’s page every Sunday, and I thought I would write one also. My papa takes THE CALL, and he thinks it is the best paper. 1 am in the sixth grade and like to go to school. Hoping my letter will escape the wastebasket, 1 remain, your little reader, ANNIE BHNEIPPER. S Evste, July 21, 1896. Dear Editor: We take THE CALL and like it very much. I like to read the Childhood’s Realm. ‘I am 11 years old and I haye one brother 10 years old. We @ one pet Qat named Malty. My mam has a lotof littie chickens. We live on a small place near the postofice. I think this is all I shall write this time. /I should like to see my letter in THE CaLL. Your new friend, ’ CHARLIE L. VAN BUREN, 'S FRANCIsCo, July 21. My mother takes THE CaLL Dear Editor: A TRUE STORY. Iam a little tree-toad and live among some bushes in a back yard of East Oakland. Once Istarted to take & walk around the yard, but big, big giant came along and caught me. He reached up and picking a twig off a tree put me on it end then said, “I'll take him into the house.” We entered a pretty room, and he put me into a glass ball, which 1 have since learned was a fish globe. Over the top he stretched a piece of mosquito netting, so I couldn’t get out. Pretty soon a whole lot more giants came and stared and stared at me. My, how they frightened me! I wanted so to hide away from their big shiny eyes, butIcouldn’t, 80 I kept still and thought about how I could get out of that slippery prison, and during the night I did sncceed in moving the coverso I could hop out! I had to lie still in acorner all night, but when the door was opened Ijumped away, and they have never caught me again, HERBERT MERRILL (age 7). A LITTLE HELPER. «QOh, auntle, if I could only do something to help mamma,” cried Dottie Gray. “She works 80 hard to make a living, and she is never very well. Ted can belp a good deal,” Dot added. ‘“‘He gets wood and water, builds the fires and does many other things,” and tears began to trinkle down Dottle’s rosy cheeks. Aunt Chloe looked up from the pastry she 'was making for pies and stared right in the little girl’s tear-stained face. “I bleves yodo want to help, honey,” she said. ‘Law, chile, y0 could cook.” “Oh, Aunt Chloe, will you teach me?” «Recon I will. Dere, you go long and roll ont dat dough and I show yo how to make de pie.” Dottie was delighted. She worked earnestly for two hours rolling dough, paring apples and doing other odd jobs to help Chloe. She weant home very light-hearted. Mrs. Gray wondered what had made her little daughter so happy. The next day she spent another two hours in learning to cook. At theend of three weeks Dottie could cook s meal “worth eating,” as Chloe expressed it. She had pot told her mother that she was taking cooking lesson's. One Friday Mrs. Gray hada headache and Dot had to stay at home from school. She thought it time to show her mother what she couid do, £0 after bathing her mother’s fore- head in cold water until she went to sieep Dot slipped quietly down to the kitchen, put on her dust cap and clean white apron and washed her face and hands. After that she took a pan of peas to shell for dinner out under the shade of the house to decide which duck to Kill for her mother’s lunch, There was Ring, Tim, Tom, Blackie and Snowball. Which should it be? She didn’t like to part with any of them. Sudéenly a thought flashed through her |’ mind. “I'll throw & handful of peas on the ground and the duck that gets tne first pea shall die.”” Down went the peas! every duck made a dash to get some, but aias for dear Jit- tle Snowball got the first. Bo Snowball was killed and cooked to a golden brown. When everything was ready, Dot with & hot,red face went softly to her mother’s room. “Are you awake, mamma, dear?” she asked. “Yes, daughter,” answered her mother, “and my headache is all gone.” “Then come down to dinner,I cooked it all by myself,” cried Dot, her large blue eyes sparkling with delight. “You, Dot? you cook?” exclaimed Mrs. Gray in surprise as she fol- Jowed her to' the dining-room, where she saw the table nicely set, chairs in place, and a hot ltemlni'amner all ready. Mrs. Gray sank in a chair as she said: “Now Dottie, explain yourself, Who cooked the din- ner? Has any one been here?” “Icooked the dinner and no one hasbeen here,” exclaimed Dot; then she told her mother how she had learned tocook, and a merry dinner they had. Mrs. Gray declared the roast duck was the best she had ever eaten and the pies delicious. Dot agreed with these sentiments by & nod of her curly head. “Now mamma, you shan’t work so hard any more. I'll doall the cooking aiter this, You shall rest,” said Dot proudly. -Mrs. Gray answered by & loving kiss on Dottie’s soft red cheek. CLARA ELKINS. Pixley, Tulare County. PATTY AND HER DUCKS. “Patty, Patty,” called mamma, one morning. “The little ducks are hatched.”” Patty scrambled out of bed in a hurry and dressed nerself. +Oh! where are my little ducks?” she called out to her mother, who was kneading dough. “They are in the old coop, dear, and you may go and feed them.” So Patty hurried to the pantry and mixed some cornmeal with water to feed the little ducks. Bhe ran out to the coop and saw some of “‘the sweetest little duckies in the world.” She threw some dabs of cornmeal to them and laughed to see them scramble for it. Patty fed her ducks right along for a few days, but one morning when her mother called her,instead of getting up cheerfully as she usually did, she got up slowly, grumbling #Qh! dear, dear, every morning I have to get up before 'm half awake. Oh! dear, dear.” Instead of feeding her ducks, she lay on the sofa and read a story book. she soon forgot all about her ducks until after dinner, when her mother said, “Have you fed your duck: Patty? “No, mamme,” said Patty. “I'm tired of those bothersome ducks, but I suppose I'll have to,” she grumbled as she walked off. Bhe took out & pan of corn and went out on the porch. Sittingdown on an old bushel basket she began to shell the corn with a very cross expression on her usually smiling face. Pretty soon the little ducks waddled up and beran to pick up some. peapods that were 1ying on the ground. Then she hastily threw them some corn, As they hurriedly allowed the kernel they chuckled and quacked to each other at a great rate. Patty bent her ears down to see 1f she could understand their queer language. The soft breezes blew in her face. The summer sun was sinking and the gentleairseemed to-carry from the dear little yellow ducklings these y P-a-t-t-y—L-a-z-y P-a-t-t-y!” “Oh, dear!” cried the suddenly aroused’ child. “Isn’t that periectly dreadful ?” Patty was very much ashamed of herself as she crept into her little bed that moonlight night, and her mother never heard her grumble about getting up any more. J. GERONA HERBERT, 13 years old. Bloomfield. LETA’S DUCKLINGS. Leta’s papa is very poor and has to work very hard to make a living for himself and little daughter. Their home is & pretty place near the river, in which Leta’s ducks of ten swim. On the eventful morn about which I am writing Leta's papa told her that he must raise some money by the morrow and she would have to sell some of her little ducks, Leta tried to look brave and answer her father, but the tears would come at the thought of selling her only pets. “I must pick some berries and peas first,” shesaid to herself as she went to the house. That done she took them and went to see her little ducklings. They ran to her immediately. She picked the berries over, and the ducks got sll that she dropped before she had a chance to pick them up. Leta tried to scold, but that ‘was impossible no: She thought, *‘Can’t I make some money without selling these httle ducklings? = We won’t need these berries or pears, and chere are some more that I can get.” So accordingly she put those in the house, and soon came back with some more all picked over. She put them in a basket ready to take to town. When her bonnet was onshe took her basket and started. At the first house she came to she sold them. all and started home with jubiiant heart, for in her hand she held three bright round doliars. When she got home she found her father there and he seemed to be happy, too, but he only said, “There seems to be as many ducks as ever, but not so many berries.” Leta showed him the money and told what she had done. He laughed and called her his dear, kind daughter. “Ishall not need your money now, pet, and by anotner Sunday you shall have & pretiy new dress,” he said. 8o Leta still has her ducklings and, besides, & new dress. % FLORENCE ROBERTSON (14 years). THE END OF TOO MUCH TEASING. “Oh, mother, please mayn’t I go down to the hot water pastureto fish ? James Jantly says that there are fish down there that long,” and 9-year-old Martin Mandle held his hands about six inches apart to indicate how long the much-desired fish were. *“No,” sald his mother, “I am afraid to have you go. You know that several boys were hurt there about a year ago.” “But mamma,” protested Martin, “I zo for the cow every night and I haven’t got hurt yor.” “I'know that,” his mother answered, as she was busily peeling potatoes for breakiast. “But I think I can trust you t - o for the cow, for you have promised me thay you will come home just as soon as you can.” “Well, I could go down about half an hour eaclierand fish about a half an hour—I can tell about how long that is—and—" “Oh, yes,”” broke in his sister Minnie, who 'was doing her best at baking hot cakesovera scorching hot fire. “You said you were only two or three minutes talking to James Jantly last evening when you were at least twenty minutes; wasn’t he, mamma?” “Never mind, Minnie,” was her mother’s an- swer, “and just see how you are burning those cakes. What a fool you are. Take 'em off, quick!” The hot cakes being now out of danger for the present she said to Martin: “It's no use for you to tease, for I'm afraid to have you go. When you get with the other boysno one knows what will happen.” But Martin aid tease, and kept teasing until his father got outof patience and told him “to g0, and if he got killed not to blame him” (as though if his son got killed he could blame him after he was dead), and poor Mrs. Man. dle was told to say yes until she finally gave her consent, although with reluctance. wede e L ilel s i esi'e Vgt o Martin was on his way to the “fishing hole,”” as the boys called it, oy the fourth night after the above conversation, James Jantly had been with him but once, but he found other Dboys for company. In four nights he had only caught one fish, about three inches long. To-night he had not caught anything, al- though he stayed quite a while longer than usual, and he was out of humor. He had promised his mother that he would go around & hot-water stream that flowed past the cold water and joined it, by a long path But to-night, when he got to the path, he said to himself: “Now, whatis the use of going clear down to that little board over this stream ? having to walk about a mile further than necessary. I'Il just jump right across this water, as mamma should have let me in the first piace. What a fool the old woman is, anyhow.” S0 he took a good run snd jumped—but where? Right in the middle of the stream, as the girls would guess, but the boys—they would say six feet the otherside. But they ‘would be mistaken. Down, down, poor Martin sank into the hot mud and water, and there was a frantic flour- ishing of hands and cow rope (which he dropped into the water in his struggles), afier the first fright of falling into the water had partly passed away. Butit was of no use, the poor boy was too frightened and the mud too sticky to let him out, and so he Xkept sinking. And It wasn’t like falling Into cold waver, as of course you know, for cold water doesn’t burn like hot water, and James was too frightened now to help himself, so he mustered up enough voica , to shout, *Heip! heip! I'm drowni But no one seemed to hear him, so he ins tone of anguish: “I s'pose I'll have to codk here now. Wish I'd minded mother, or better that I'd never heard of this miserable hole.” And he began to cry, ss I guess anybody, would. 1know Iwould have “cried my eyes out” long before he even commenced to whimper. But somebody did hear his cries, and that * was Minnie, who came rurning up just in time. Her mothes had become nervous about Martin and had sent Minnie so see what the matter was. At first Minnie was all excite- ment, but she became calmer ‘as she realized that she could not help her brother in that state. 3 She snatched the cow rope from the water ° and quickly tied nerself to a small tree and then reached out her hand for Martin: ‘“‘Here; catch hold,” she said, “quick, and—oh, Martin! don’t look like that!” . Her brother caught her hand and was pulled out, but not very easily. If Minnie had not . been six years older than Martin, and’ conse- quently heavier and stronger, he must have , stayed where he was. But Minnie got him out, then sank half exhausted by his side and be- gan to unfasten his clothes. She saw that, Martin was too badly burned to walk home fortunately two men were coming toward. them, driving home their cows. Theycameto - the children right away, and, instead o} ariv. ing cows home, they carried poor little Martin home. e The little boy had to stay in the house about’ a week was truly repentant and determined that when his mother said *“no” it was the wisest thing for him to obey and-not tease THE DUCK'S NEST. Hurrah for the fun! School is done! . Vacation we get to-aay. 3 : School is over, school is over! No more les- sons for, oh, too many days to count and be- sides I am tired of counting already. Let us.go, and see if dear old aunt Katie is coming. Weall loved this auntie so well we called her Datie. Now you must not think because I say dear ©0ld Aunt Datie,that she is gray and wrinkled; instead she is just like my big sister would be if she had lived. So out we ali ran to the gate to see if she is within signt; and, yes, there she comes. ; Of course, being well-behaved little children, we dare 1ot run to meet her, but wait patiently until she arrives. Then she greets us with a . - cheery ‘““Good-morning, children,” and we all answer, “We have vacation; do take us some- where and let us have some fun.” “Well, yoft must first have mamma’s permission.” They very soon obtain that, and then Aunt Datie asks where would they like 10 go—to the'duck farm or to the piggery. “To the duck farm, of course.” Sly ones, they think they can go the piggery on the way home. G Soon ready, off they start, and as it wasnot ° very far they reach their destination ina short time. The first thing they see on enter- ing the yard is a little girl, like the one in the picture, sitting with & pan of peas feeding the little tiny ducks. Oh, how sweet they werel * Just like balls'6f down. Aunt Datie showed - them some large, white duck eggs, and told. them how the tiny ducklings came out of eggs like them. - 8he then teok the children tothepond where the ducks drank and bathed; also to a mother duck on a nest. After having a lovely time, they returned home well pleased and very hungry. Thenext day their mother and aunt® - went out and $he children got hungry and concluded to ‘have somethjng’® to- eat. They thought what fun it would. be to cook for thémselves! Fred sdid: “Oh,. ° Will, I can get somé eggs. Yesterday when we were down at the duck farm, I saw some eggs lying outside the fence, and-so I' - will just run over and get them. ‘The duck- must have lost, them there.” So off he went and soon came back with seven big eggs. " Nellie s some biscuits, ham and tarts ahd then made tea; then ‘May cooked the eggs and they sat down to eat. The biscuits and eggs would be * splendid, they said, and such fine large eggs they were, too, only not so nice and clean as those mamma always had. SR “¥hen they cracked the shells—ready toeat them—well, they did not smell like eggs mamma eovoked, either! However, they sea- soned them well with salt and pepper, and all ate them but Fred. Alas! poor, poor fellow, he could, not eat hi: alll Why? Because there was no egg there to eat. It was: Head, tail, feathers, feet, * Just littie duck complete. . As salt and pepper would do that no good he had to be content with biscuits, ham and tarts, “quite a good luncheon,” mamme said, “for & little boy who had stolen eggs and robbed a nest.” She also said the mother duck hed lsid her eggs outside the fence because it was qaiet * and sheltered, and that it would have bgen much better to have left them in the nest until they were hatched, and how - badly ~ the mother would feel when she returned and found them gone. She also told Fred how the little duckling in his egg might have been alive when he took it. He felt very sorry for cooking it and said, “I prefer my ducks minus shell and eggs minus duck,” When Aunt Datie heard what Fred : had done she said she would not take him to d a fire and Wilk broughtout: . . the piggery, as he might Tob their nests tbo, . * and then we would haye neither ham mor eggs for breakiast. MARIE CHESWORTH. - THE GIRL AND HER DUCKS. . “Come, Maggie,” called Mrs. Mansfield, “ana get me some peas for dinner.” 5 “Yes, mamma,” replied Mageie, putting her dollie in its carriage, for Maggie was an obeai- ent little girl. The peas were soon picked and seating her- self on an old basket in the corner of the porch she began to shell them, but before she had quite finished a band of litile ducks which she had rafsed herself came troopitg up, beside . her. She bhad dropped quite a number of peas and now the duecks began to eat them. 2 Before they had eaten them all up one little duck curled up and went to sieep, while three others walked away quite satisfied, but the - fifth one, whom Maggie had been in the habit of petting, stood quite still, waiting for her to take it up. But she raised her hand and shook her head and said no, that she aid not have time to pet her now, but ducky would not go away until Maggie took her mother the peas- and came out to pet it. and I can hardly wait until Sunday comes so I can read the children’s page. I am a little boy, 10 years old. I have a sister 3 years old, and she takes THE CALL and reads it upside down. She is awful cunning. I also have two pink-eyed bunnies. I am afraid my letter is getting too long. Please donot throw it in the wastebasket, but put it in your next SUNDAY CaLL. Your little reaaer, HARBY WEISS. CousTOCK, Cal., July 24, 1896. Dear Editor: My paps takes THE CaLy and I enjoy reading every bit of it. My happiest day in my vacation was last Friday when they were ‘branding calves, I nave a horse and saddle of my own. I ride to school on my horse and have more fun than a ittle. I am 12 years old nextNovember. I will close, hoping my letter will be yx;;l:% REEN. GARDINER, Or., July 19, 1896. Dear Editor: This is the first letter to THE CaLL, 1am 8 yearsold. ‘I have two brothers and one sister younger than 1 am. I live in the country, too far from school to go,so my mamma teaches me at home. We are having very hot weather here now,and we children like to go washing and bathing. I havea ‘kitty and my brother nas a dog. Kitty’s name is Polly Edna and the dog’s game is Shep. He likes my baby brother and lets him put his hand in his mouth. Ihope this letter will not find the wastebasket. I am your little reager, RUTH BOLDERREE. SAN FraNCIsco, July 23, 1896. Dear Editor: This is the first time I have written to THE CALL and I hope it will be pub- 1lished in next Sunday’s paper. * ‘We have been taking THE Carn for a long time and I enjoy reading the ehildren’s page. Iam 9 years old and I have a little brother who i3 & strong Republican. Hoping my letter is mot too long, I remsin your interested reader, BinDIE TUPKUCKER. BLUE CANYON, Cal,, July 23, 1896. Miss Richards—DEAR EDITRESS: I see in last Sunday’s CALL a letter from a little friend of mine in our town, and it gave me courage to ‘write a letter to you, too. I am 10 years old and go to school. I have two sisters younger than I. Our baby is five years old. In place of a very little baby we have a white cat with & black tail, a big black dog and ever so many little chickens ‘that are very tame, and we dress all our pets up like dolis and think iv quite as nice as a real baby, We will not have any vacation this summer, bur there are several months during the win- ter in which there is no school, and we pass our vacation siiding down hill and getting wet and cold, as the snow gets very deep here. 1 have never written to THE CALL before, but 1 have solved some of the puzzles and will send the answers, and hope to see them printed if they are correct. I will write againsome time, as I like to guess the puzzles. RETHA WALDAN. BLUE CANYON, Cal., July 20, 1896. Dear Editor: 1 am nine years old. My two sisters have written to you. I haveguessed the fifth puzzle, It is: “Sacramento.” T have a sweet littie sister mamed Vivian. My sistors and I like THE CALL. I will close, Your little friend, ViRNIA WOODBURY. PBSZZLES. Answers to puzzles of Sundey, July 26: . Better late than never. Star light. Short. Adriatic (A dry attic). Alls well that ends well. Because ‘A’ makes ‘‘her” “hear,” There’s many & slip twixt cup and Hp. viL Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! 8ail on, O Union, strong and great! Humanity, with all its fears, With all its hopes of fature years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate! LONGFELLOW. IX. George Washington. X. Bimon Bolivar, R. MAUD MALLORY. < °