The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 23, 1896, Page 27

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, AUGUST 23, 1896. 2 7 -l Lo, Ghe wa(lol}gf wawj‘ What are the wild waves saying As over the sands they sigh? Why do they groan and grumb'e? 1s it "cause they're tied so high? My child, the wild wayes murmur, And angry passions show, Because some carcless wader Has stepped on their under-toe, LAURENCE HUTTON, in Harper’s Magazine. POIROR A Away up in Humboldt County is a logging camp. Here our little Bessie was born. When she was 3 years o1d she went down to the City of San Francisco 1 live, as her mother did not have good health, and her father thought she would have better attendance in the City. One lovely afternoon in the middle of June they bade good-by to their many friends and touk passage on the beautiful steel steamer | Pomona. Bessie was wild with delight at the prospect of soon nieeting her father, whom she had not seen for & year. 1t was also the first steamer she rememb:red being on, as she was | too smell to notice anything when heér mother brought her down. Nowshe started off on a | home in the heart of the redwoods where they | were to live. Bessie was glad to be once more | with her father and Pomona was for & time left | to herself. She soon beeame acquainted and grew to be a lovely big old cat. Bessie is now a young lady and Pomona is 6 years old. She has lost all her teeth and lives on bread and mwilk, but Bessie still loves her day when she returns from school Pomona standing at the door; she runs to her mistress, rubs her head against her hand and sits in her lap as she studies. Last year they planted some young trees and Bessie called the first one after the beautiful steamer and her dear little kitten, “Pomona.” MARIE CHESWORTH. HONOR T6 CTHE ORIG6N. The nutritious and wholesome 'onion occasionally finds its vindicators.” At the ontana city of Anaconda there is a dining cilub called the Anaconda Onion Society. Its first feast was recently given with distinguished success. Down in the center of the hall, says the Anaconda Standard, was set a long table with covers for ail the guests. At each plate was a Jarge and juicy onion; in the mdale of the table was an array of meats, bread, fruit, crackers, cheese and other things. At one end of the hall floated the stand- ard of the club in proud conspicuousness. It consisted of a pole surmounted by a string of the vegetables from which the society takes its name. On the wall hung Each member wore a pretty bouton- niere of little onions. The occasion was | greatly enjoyed by all the participants, | and the society hopes to do much to re- | store the onion to the honor and esteem | of the world. ‘ In Montana, as well as on the whole of | the Pacific Slope, the onion attains a | deliciousness of quality which is compara- | tively unknown on the Eastern side of the | continent. Ifthe people of the East could BESSIE AND 'POMONA. tour of inspection and you may be sure she saw many things to interest and amuse her. Away up on s little platform called the bridge she saw & man and, being told he was the captain, she ran to her mother, saying: “Oh, mamme, that is the captain; he can show me more than any one else. I am going to speak to him.” A moment later & cheery “Good-morning, captain,” the noble skipper, and turning around he saw Miss Bessie standing beside him on the bridge. “Good-morning, little girl, what is your name?” «My neme is Bessle, and T want you to show me everything pretty on the ship.” “I will, but you must be very careful and not get into trouble.” 3 Taking the little girl by the hand the genial captatn explained the use of the compass and bells, and, of eourse, Bessie wanted to ring one, and he told her how that would cause much trouble, a8 the passengers would not know why 1it. was rung. He then led her into the beautiful saloon, bril- liantly lighted in the evening by electric lights. Bessie danced with delight at this vision of fairyland. In the cabin she met the stewardess, whom she called the “Lady Mamma” of the ship, and who treated her to cakes and fruit. The captain then took her below and showed her the machinery and the engine-room, and told her how the engine carried the steamer on her course, and how, | when he pulied the bell on the bridge, the engineer heard it and knew what it meant. All this was new and very wonderful to Bessie, but she was looking very wistfuily toward the other end of the deck, where she saw a Jovely old cat, with five pretty kittens, playing with a rubber ball. Captain Doran, secing her look, smiled, say- ing: *Well, Bessie, you will never make a sailor. I think we wiil go forward and see Towsy and her kittens. They are two weeks old and we have not yet christened them. I will let you find some pretty names for them.” Off sheran and was soon down on the deck mothering and loving the dear little kittens, who were not the least bit afraid of her ca- resses. The captain looked on, highly amused, h & merry twinkie in his eye, as Bessie said, will name this one Bessie and I will name thisone Pomona, because she 1s snow white, like the beautiful boat, and oh, may I have her to keep?”’ Of course, she got the kitten, and after nam- ing the other oues Towsy, Tom and Nell, she started off to get a box to make a bed for Po- mona. The cook gave hera box, the stew- ardess a piece of blanket and a bottle of milk, | and Bessie was happy. The next morning they reached Kureks and Bessie, with Pomona, went to say good-by to the captain and all her new-found friends, who were very sorry such a litie sunbeam was going to ieave them so oon. Pomona was carried up o the logging camp. When Bessie's pasaw the box he wondered whal it contained, but she told him the kitty | was all her own, how she was born in the Po- mona and how her name was Pomona. The kitten was for a time forgotten while Bessie greeted | | have onions as good as those of Montana | and California it is possible that the Ana- conda Onion Society might find imitators in the East. A Liittle Bweetheart | ven little sweetheart, and she’s frolicsome and queer; Comes and asks for kisses every sweet day in | the year. Twines her arms around me; sways me to and | iro; | But hers is love that found me years and years | ago! | I've = little sweetheart, sung in all my rhymes; One who says she loves me “a hundred million times!” One whose Nands have crowned me where sweetest roses grow; But her's is love that found me years and years ago! | I've a little sweetheart—loveliest of girls; | Kisses for her red lips and kisses for her curls. | With her dear arms round me, all of joy I know, But hers is love that found me years and years 4go. FRANK L. STANTON. | Symfathy Amons .A’\fmalj'. An Adirondack boy of 13 set out last week to hunt four young crows that he heard down on the flats of West Canada Creek, near Northwood. It happened that the boy got a bunch shot at the birds and two of them fell dead while a third clutched at the branch on which it was standing, pitched forward, and was soon hanging head downward, erying pitifully. Thbe fourth young crow flew away. The wounded crow’s cries attracted not only its parents, but five other full-grown crows besides. All seven circled about encour- aging the wounded bird ss _best they could. One of them ventured too close and another shot killed i.. The young bird soon fell fluttering to the grouna, when the boy killed it. Sympathy had brought one bird to its death. But the crows were not the only sympathizers with the wounded young crow. A flock of bluejays from overin Park’s balsam swamp came across the creek and hopped about in the high branches of the birch trees, protesting in bluejay talk against the killing of the was vjewing the beautiful trees and the lovely crows. The littie birds—the woodpeckers 1 is of course too far to walk. and the warblers, the sparrows and the sapsuckers—peeped louder and more fre- quently than before, showing agitation over the young crow’s cries. Once a young woodsman, who wanted venison more than he feared the game constable, went deercrusting in a yard away back in the woods where the snow was five~feet deep. He founu the deer, a fair-sized buck, whose horns had been dropped some time previously, and he and his companions, with the dog leading, started on the jump after the ani- mal. The dog got there first and grabbed the deer by the hams. and did its best to getaway. When, at last, one of the men got a knife into its throat the woodsman ‘observed that as many as twenty bluejays had gathered about in the trees overhead and were pro- testing in loud, angry voices at the killing of their woods brother. The Sun told recently about a wildeat that visited her'sweetheart that bad been trapped by a cracker down in Okefenokee Swamp, in Georgia, and there is scarcely a trapper of furs but could tell some story or other of how & beast in a trap had been visited by one of its species. The male fox sometimes kills the vixen when she is so unfortunate as to get into a trap, and some woodsmen believe: that it is a heroic method of trying to release her. The question has been asked why it was that when a cow bellowed out in distress all the others of the herd promptly rus"ed at her and gored her to death. It has often been described how wolves set upon injured companions and tear them to pieces. Dogs have been known to do the same thing, while other dogs have been ‘observed to run up to an injured comrade, whiring and fawning around as if to con- jure away tlle pain.—New York Sun. vt L GARBERVILLE, Humboldt County, Aug. 10, 1896 ‘ Dear Editor: Seeing so many letters, I thought I would write one, too, being encour- aged by seeing my story printed. I thougnt that some of the stories were just fine, especially one in the last paper, I live on a sheep ranch containing 6500 acres, and we have about 4000 sheep. Our house is three miles from town. I have only been here two years. Before coming here we lived in East Oakland, which I think is a lovely place. My sister and myself ride horseback to school, as three miles In the winter we raise all the little lambs that the men find too sick to go with their mother. We have nine now. Itisa greatdeal of work to raise them and takes lots of patience, but we can afford that when we know if we don’t they will die. Ofcoursg they are all named. Their names are: Bill Butler, Daisy Bell, Mary Lee, Major McKinley, Ben Bolt, Grover Cleveland, Bessie, Fannie and Birdle. We raised them with the bottle. Hoping you will find something of in- terest in my letter, I remain your friend, FLORENCE ROBERTSON, SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 15. Dear Editor: One of the happiest days in my vacation was spent in San Mateo. We went blackberrying out near Crystal Springs Lake. Although we did not get many berries we had a good time. We climbed a hill where we saw many blackberry bushes, but there had been some boys there and picked all the ber- ries. The road we wentup was winding up The deer cried out | RiMb. school. OQur teacher’s name is Miss McSwee- ney. I read the stories in Childhood’s Reslm and hike them very much. I have one sister named Minnie, and three brothers, Arthur, Eldred and Milton. Hoping you will find room enough in your paper to print my letter, 1 will close, hoping to see it In the next CaLy, I remain, your friend, LAUREL CorMick, MARSHFIELD, Or., Aug. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: This is the firstletter I have ever written to THE CALL, and 1 hope 1t will escape the wastebasket. My papa has been taking THE CALL for & long time, and I read “Childhood’s Realm” every week,and like it very much. 1have been camping lately with my mamma up Coos River in a lovely maple and myrtle grove. I went in bathing nearly every day, and sleptin a tent and ate under the trees. When we came home from Coos River, we went down to Bandon, & Very pretty seaport town. We strolled along the beach and gath- ered some beautiful pebbles, and - walked around the schocner Berwick, that went on the beach trying to sail over the Coquilie bar. Two days after we leit Bandon a whale came ashore on the beach. I wish we had been there to see it. Hoping to see my letter in next Sunday’s CaLL, I remain your loving reader, GENEVIEVE SENGSTACKEN (10 years old). BT. MARY’S CONVENT, RENO. August:10, 1896. - Dear Editor: 1am 7 years old and in the high second grade. 1 have lived with the Sisters four years. A friend of mine named John sends THE SUNDAY CALL to me and sometimes I Tead the children’s stories and sometimes they are read to me. 1 hope you will put this letter in the paper so that John can see it. He lives in San Franeisco. Yours truly, EDNA MURPHY. SouTH SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 11, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am a little girl 6 years old. My papa takes THE CALL for along time. This is my second letter to you and I Like THE CALL very much. Iwill be7 years old next Sunday. My teacher’s name is Mise Morrison. I like my teacher. My first teacher’s name was Miss Goss. Please publish next Sunday and oblige your little friend, AMELIA BOCHRINGER. HEALDSBURG, Cal.. Aug. 10, 1896. Dear Editor: I was very much pleased to see my letter in print and I thank you very much for printing it. I read the stery about “A Boy’s Adventure” and enjoyed it very much. Tam waiting to read the rest of it as it stopped in the most interesting part. I guessed four of the puzzles and hope they are correct. 1 remain, your friend, EMILIA NARDINI SAN FrANCISCO, Aug. 13, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am a litile girl 6 years old. 1 have been promoted to the third grade, and I am to give my first entertainment and so- cial at the Atheneum Hall. I would like very much to have you come and see us dance and sing and speak. We are all pupils of Mrs. Drey- fus, and we love her very much. If you come maybe you will get the Dulcimer, My papa takes THE CALL. Good-by. Your dear little TRUPHENA PRITCHARD. OWATONNA, Minn., July 28, 1896, Dear Editor: 1 am to you a new little girl, I know, because I Ye never written before toyou. I had twoipet cats when we came to Owatonna, but at the depot one got away. Her name was Patti. The other one, her son, we nave yet. Hisname (was) is Tidleawin! We have a horse in St. Paul whose name Hector. We (paps) had his mother, Daisy, which was her name. I will now close. I remain your faithful reader, Hazer Toor. P. 8.—1 hope you will publish my letter, as itis my first. GOODYEARS BAR, Cal., August, 1896. Dear Editer: My happiest day of vacation was Friday, when I went to the Pike City 8chool; we went after dinner and then school was called. I*watched them read and each one tried to beat the other; all the classes are years old, and am in the. fifth grade; as this is | tion and visiting litde\girls. My paps 1s through harvesting. He had a very good crop. We are going to the mountains soon. This is all for this time. Hoping you will priut my letter, I'will close. Your friend, LEVERRIER CAIN (age 11 years). B166s, Butte Co., Cal., Aug. 11, 1896. Deaa Editor: I am a little girl from New York State. This is my first letter to uny paper,and I would like to see it in next Sunday’s CALL. My mother is dead and I live with my uncle and aunt. My unele is the editor of the Biggs Notes. I like THE SUNDAY CALL very mugch, especially the page entitled Childhood’s Realm. My uncle has a dog named Jack; heis a fox | terrier. He will husk an ear as nice as a per- son can, and he can catch rats and mice, too. My uncle also has a horse named Nell. She is a dapple gray, pretty and gentle, and I like to ride behind her. My birthday was on the 13th of thismonth, and lam 10 yearsold. I will send you the answer to the fifth puzzie. Itis August. I think I wili close now, as my letter is getting too long. Your new friend, BLANCHE GUNSAULUS. JACKSON, Cal., Aug. 8, 1896. Dear Editor: 1thought I would write to you, as 1 have not seen any letters from here. I have tiree sisters and one brother. Iowna aog, & wagon and a rubber stamp. Melons are high up here—20 cents and 25 cents. All kinds of frult are high. There are a good many pies up hereand lots ot other kinds of tfees. This is & mining country. Hoping to see this next Sanday, I remain your friend, P C. L, LEwrs. Sax Fraxcisco. Cal,, Aug. 2, 1896. Dear Editor: As 1have been reading the chil- dren’s page for a long time, I thought I wonld write to you, as, I would like to see a letter of mine in print. Papa has taken THE CALL for about fifteen years; we like it very much. I like the stories about the picture, and the next time will try a.d write onealso. Iam9 all that I can thivkef I willclose. Your sin- | cere friend, LILLIAN ANDERSON. QAKLAND, Cal., Aug. 3, 1896. Dear Editor: Every Sunday I read the Boys’ and Girls’ page in THE CALL, and like it very much. Iam 9 yearsold, and go to school. I have a brother named Georgie. Heis 7 years old. We have a cat named Flossie, and a pug dog named Dandy. That's all. AUSTIN CALDERWOOD. HANFORD, Cal.,, Aug. 10, 1896. Dear Fditor: This is my first letter to THE CALL. My papa takes THE CALL, and I read the ’Cht ’Cvfo' Réval P artleg. How a Soft Tcuch of Niture Merged Them Into One. BY MRS. IDA KAYS. “If I had kept it a surprise, it would not have been so bad; but, you see, the child never had a party before in her life, and is not likely to have another soonm, so I thought she might as well have the pleas- ure of anticipation. “‘She has been a8 happy as a bird getting ready for it, helping to bake cakes and writing and detivering invitations; and she has planped it all over and over again, how many would be here, how the tables would be arranged, and what games they would play. “Why, I have almost felt young again, myself, listening to the child talk, and this morning when she started off toschaol she actually threw her arms arcund my neck and kissed me as if I had been her wn mother, and now —— “It almost makes me sick. I don’t know whether I've trimmed a hat or a bonnet straight to-day. I knew something was wrong the minute I saw her face at noon. She tried to speak as usual, but she couldn’t, and when I asked what wus the matter she dropped into a chair and be- gan to ery as if her heart would break. “It was the longest time betore I could find out anything about it. ‘Oh! how could she?’ *My one party—and my birth- day, too,” she would say between sobs. Not an angry word, just heart-broken; but that’s her way. No better girl ever lived than Audrey Ames, and I ought to know. “Finally I learned that Maud Bacon had told her on the way tv school that all the girls had received printed invitations to a party at Gleason’s to-night. Audrey cowdn’t believe it until she got to school “PVE BRINGED YOU A [From St. Uy By / LITTLE DOLLY, BOSSY.” Nicholas.] children’s page, and I like it very much. I am & little girl, 8 years old. Ihave a brother 4 years old and a sister 6 years old. I hope to see my letter published in next Sunday’s CALL. I remain, your little reader, CRETA BoyDp. 815 WASHINGTON STREET, OAKLAND, Aug 6. Dear Editor: I am a litils boy 10 years oid, and I have been wanting to write to the Child- hood’s Realm, but was away on my vacation the same way. Then recess came and I wem] along.so I will write you now. We had a up to Truckee to see mamma’s friend, Mrs. Long, and my sister Carrie, and mhmma was DRAWING BABY’S PICTURE, BY MABEL. CLAYTON. out and watched them play ball and swing. Boon they were called in and each ¢ had a spelling down and then they all spelled together. ALice HELMET (age 10 years). COLLEGE City, Cal., Aug. 2, 1892, Dear Editor: As you printed my first letter ‘and was much pleased, I will write another. The weather has been very hot up here in the valley, but is nice and cool now. I have gone to the primary for four yearsand this will “OH, TO \BE A CHILD!” [From Youth's Companicn.] the sidesof the mountain. When we got up we could see below us the road we first took. It was a pleasant day and we had a nice time. EVA WOLFINGER. GARBERVILLE, Cal., Aug. 10. 1896. Dear Editor: We have been taking THE CALL for some time, and as I have seen one letter written from here I concluded to write one also. We are living on a farm. 1 am 12 years old and am in the seventh grade at meake my fifth year and we will have a new teacher this year. Her name is Miss Myrtle Reagor from Tennessce. The grapes are get- ting ripe and so are watermelons. I like the children’s page very much and like to read the letters and stories. We drew the parrots and thought they were funny.. My papa has gone uptown and I will be glad when he comes home, so Ican read the children’s page. We have had a good time playing during yaca- Fe: lovely time, went fishing and ran all around in the woods. We wereup to Donner Lake and Ienjoyed it. Now we have to go to school again and I love to go, for we have adear teacher. . Her name is Miss Scanlen. Our school is on Fourth and Grove streets. My papa takes THE CALL and likes it better than any other paper. Imyself enjoy reading the Childhood’s Realm. Now please do not throw this in the wastebasket. Your little friend, FRANKIE Tn? REDLANDS, Cal., Aug. 14, 1896. Dear Editor: I have seen so many little let- ters in THE CALL that I thought I would write, too. We take THE CALL ana I read the page for children, which is very nice. I am 11 years old. Iliveiu the Baker House and we have no yard, Ionly came here in March. I will start to school next month. I go to Sunday-school every Sunday and my Sunday-school teacher is very nice. I haven’t any pets, as no one wants them in a hotel. I don’t think any other 1ittle girl in Redlands ever wrote to THE CALL. IThope Iam right. If my letter does not get there in time for next Sunday I hope you will ‘publish it the following week. If you publish it it will give me courage and I will write a story some time. I must ciose. Your new {riend, Bessie E. BRiGas. Fav1s Crry, Or., August 2, 1896. Dear Editor: The woodrats are iu our house ‘because 1t is old. We catch them with pump- kin seeds sewed on red flannel and fastened tothe trap. We have seven cats. I like page 10 ot THE CALL. RANDOLPH BUTLER (age 9 years), GOODYEARS BAR, July 26 1896, Dear Editor: 1send a story to THE CALL and would like to see it printed. The Naughty Max stories were very good. I mustget ready for Sunday-school, so I will close. A AvuicE B. HELMET (age 10 years). Animal ,Iz°t€.f Only twenty-four white elepbants have been captured since the beginning of the Christian era. The original civil engineer was the mole. He anticipates danger by making several exits and entrances to his abode. Some naturalists believe that the whale was originally a land animal and that it fled to the water for safety. and found that no one seemed to notice herat all. Gladys Gleason was the center of attraction to-day, telling, in quite audible confidence, group after group of girls the number of zakes ordered, the gallons of icecream making and the grand prepara- tions in progress; but nota word did she say to poor Audrey about it. “Gladys has forgotten the rainy nights that it used to be convenient to stay with *Cousin Audrey’ before her father was elected and they moved to town; and the many favors that Audrey had done her, never minding her slights and her over- bearing ways. I would not have believed ber capable of such an insult. “And children are much like their elders. Nothalf a dozen will beat Audrey’s party to-night, nor will half a doze mothers tell their girls to accept the first invitation, because—well, because Gladys is a Gieason, and Audrey is a poor orphan girl living with Old Maid Boggs, the mil- liner. “It'sa afllme; it’s a burning shame, so itis!” Ana the sympathetic old maid’s face was buried in her hands while tears trickled through her fingers on to the work below. “Ido wonder if Gleason upholds any such doings,”’ said Miss Boggs' listener, glad ot a chance to talk at Iast. “More than likely he knows nothing about it. They say he humors those chil- dren to death since their mother died. He always was a good-natured man—used tobe able to see common folks, too, but his eyesight seems to be failing since election. Maybe that's what ails Gladys. She can’t see well on Audrey’s level.” Lucy Sykes chuckled over her own wit, and Miss Boggs dried her eyes to continue the discussion of Gleason, Gladys and the rival parties. But when she came to Audray, bravely trying to bear her bitter disappointment, tears made way for sobs, and Lucy Sykes cried softly in sympathy. AR T T TR T T In a private room not many blocks away sat George Gleason, surrounded by books, papers, letters and packages, in dire con- fusion. He was giving his personal effects a gengral overhauling beiore assuming hjs new duties in the responsible position for which the people of his county had chosen him. Some documents would be needed, others were valuable, and these he had sorted and arranged to his satisfaction; but thers was so much other matter— trash, he calied it—that must be disposed of, and tuis he was finding no easy task. Absorbed in business though he was, Mr. Gleason had a heart, and mementos of the past, unearthed for many years, stared him in the face and buried for the time more practical objects. " From an old envelope he took a box, and from the box a ring, twirling it in his fin- gers, while mental vision reproduced a winsome face, not of a girlish sweeth eart, but of his sister Anna, faithful and true, | How many times she had helped him out of scrapes and shielded him from his father’s wrath! Fow she had begged him to give up his wild companions, and he re- fusea—until that night. And then he could see through the dark- ness a little figare running across the fields to the old cooper-shop, a favorite 1endezvous of the toughs that infested the neighborhood. . And another figure, ‘his stern father, in close pursuit. But Anna had reached him first, had saved him from his father—perhaps from worse, for that very night’s “lark’ ended in a fray that put two of the gang behind prison-bars. ' And here, in George Gleason’s hand, sixteen years later, lay the ring that he had bought for Anna on bis first trip to the city with his fat! But she never wore it, having taken advantage of their absence to marry a man whom both op- posed. And it was a terrible mistake, fol- lowed by a life of poveity and wretched- ness. Ignored by home friends, even by the brother who ehould have been as mugch to her as she once was to him, poor Annalived and died. Her children were scattered and— “Gladys! @Gladys!” called Mr. Gleason, roused by a step in the ball. Gladys had been very willing to leave her father in peace since cbtaining his ‘donsent to her giving the party planned entirely by herself and the housekeeper; yet she answered his call promptly. “When your cousin comes {g-night, Gladys—" “Audrey, papa?’ interrupted Gladys. “Yes; when Audrey comes to-night bring her to me. I want to give her this ring.” Gladys' surprise rivaled her confusion. A prettier ring than she had ever owned to be given to Andrey! “But, papa, she—she isn’t coming.” “Isn’'t coming!” said Gleason, sternly. “And why not?” “Because—I didn’t ask her,” stammered Gladys. *‘I thought we never—you never, “I see,”” said Gleason. ‘It has all been wrong. This is very wrong. Set it right, Gladys, or give up your party. Steismy only sister’s child.” It seemed a tardy awakening, but Gladys understood. She was a girl of re- sources, but even her brain failed to hit at once upon a plan to ‘‘set it right” at this late hour. She could not give up her party, for in three hours her guests wouid ceme, nor could she ask Audrey to leave her own party, though it must be a miserable failure. Sitting on the porch steps she thought and thought—then her eyes sparkied and running to her father she cried: “rapa, may I do what I please? May I havea cab? Will you give me the ring? Pl fix it all right.” Without a word Mr. Gleason handed her some money and the ring, elad to have a disagreeable matter oft his hands. In Miss Boggs' best front room four girls were gathered; Audrey, with red eyes and swollen face; Kate Lane and Lou Casseil, two others whom Gladys had deemed beneath her notice, and Maud Bacon, too faithful to desert a friend in trouble. It was not a merry party, for Audrey could not talk and Maud did little better. Kate and Lou alternated abuse of Gladys and sympathy for Aubrey untii their hostess could endure it no longer, Hurriedly she left the room. Maud soon followed and found her lying face downward on the cot sobbing convul- sively. She knelt beside her friend long- ing to speak some word of comfort, but she could only lay her head by Audrey’s in silent sympatny. An uuwonted noise in the street sud- denly aroused her, and the rattle of wheels ceased at Miss Boggs' door. Then there was a sharp rap, followed by cries of “Au- drey! Audrey!” The noise filled the iront room and the dining-room, and svor® another arm was slipped around Audrey, and Gladys’ voice said: “Don’t cry, Audrey. We are all here— cakes, icecream and everythingand every- body. We'll have the nicest time now, and always, too. Just see what papa sent you!” And, sure enough, there they all were, Gladys and her guests, with everything that had been prepared for them. The Gleason party had been brought to Miss Boggs, and so Audrey had two parties all in one, No one seemed to remember that there had been any change in the original pro- gramme. They did bave just “the nicest time,” and, as Miss Boggs said to Lucy Sykes the next day: __“It was the compietest surprise I ever saw.”’—From an exchange. Lament ]Ero_fi\_tllt Cradle Up from the cradle came & wail, At first 8 pensive coo; Into & weird, vociferous wail Of mournfulness it grew. His sorrow, in a vein prolix, He struggled to reveal, “ My father’s talking polities, And mother rides a wheel. “They say I'm cross. I'm simply sad At being slighted so. I wish the baby-carriage fad Could somehow get a show. How can you blame one in my fix For setting up & squeal? My father’s talking politics, / And mother rides a wheel.” ~Washington Evening Star, A (]:hangf of Heart Susie—Mamma’s gone visiting and won’t be back for an hotir. I wonder if there’s any pres served strawberries In the closet? 3 Susie—No, there isn’t any. I'm so glad, bes cause they never did agree with me. —From Golden Days. ENIGIMA. Tam cdmposed of 16 letters. My 16, 12,9, 3, is part of the human body. My 4, 6, 15, 11, 12, 7, is a bird. My 13, 2,5, 7, 14, 16, is not spiritaal. My 1,8,12,5,8, are the feelings I assume toward a des picable person. My 10, 18, 2, 5, is the mark of a wound. My whole is a household word. To the boy or girl sending the first correct solution of the above enigma will be presented a collection of 100 United States and foreign postage stamps, no two alike. R Gilmet—Did you have a good time on the Fourth, Robbie? Robbie—Did 1? Well, say! Ma ain’t got over the hysterics yet.