The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 15, 1896, Page 24

24 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNbAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1896. Instan Gommer. The grain is gathered in; The season’s work is done: No more the hurrying din Or the stress of Doontime sun; | But Leautiful and calm And :ull of healing balm The sutumn rest is won. Yea, the tired world standeth still 1 In & trance of pesce «nd praise; i And the light on tield and hill 1s the light of bygone dass; And long-forgotten rhymes And songs of the dear old times | Come buck in the brooding haze. Fairls the passing day When the sun 5o kindly beams: Fair is the far-. way, And the world that only seems; O, naught in the rourd. ripe ye: Is 50 sirange and sweet and dear As this beautisul time of dreams. —Youth’s Companion. Novemiley. It was as if the summer’s lale Atoning for its sadness Had borrowed every season’s charm To ena its days in gladness.—Whittier. That's our California November this | year—golden sunshine, a few gentle show- | ers and then more golden sunshine—with | all that golden sunshine means to happy | childhood and weary man. — - | I promised to have the names of those | entitled to membership in C. R. C. pub- | lished to-day. Itried to keep my promise, but my list grew so long and I got into such a muddle | that I just had to: ive it up and think of | some other plan, and this is what I decided to do. From the time we first spoke of forming our club whenever a story or rhyme or | puzzle of yours abpears in the Children’s | Page you become a member, and must | please aiways write the letters C. R. C, after your name whenever you communi- | cate with us.. Then we shall soon become ! acquainted. R Joe Little- White-Hav'k BY HELEN E. HUNTINGTON IN GOLDEN DAYS. 'S5 AM sick of %domsz" ~ from hisimprovi be.ore the cheery s room fire. “Pooh!” said Ned, in great disiain. “Only two days! When Jim and I had the measles we stayed in ten whole days and you said it was nothing.” Neither it was, because there wasn’t any snow, nor such fine skating, to tan- talize vou.” “Well, if yon hadn’t skated so fast you would have seen the crack in the ice in time and not gone under. Then you Move 6°Lolt'nk5. in- staying To appear on my sheet of paper so white This gobolink was in & great flurry. 8o he leit both arms and legs benind In his ink-bottle home in his hurry. PAUL PETERS. groaned Julian, | W by, [4 7 | woutdn’t have been'laid up with a surained ankle. Hello! look out of the window, quick, Julian! Isn’t that Uncle Peter Brindlow ceming up the street? Ob, he's coming this way! Hurrah!” Mr. Biindlow brought in a whiff of the | keen, frusty air Julian pined for. *I've come in to see the invalid,” he said in his pleasant, hearty way, “and congratulate him on the bruises and black eyes he has missed these two days, Welil, Julian, how are you?” “Says he's sick of it,” Ned explained, making his cartwbeel movement across | the floor, which was his favorite way of expressing extreme satisfaction. *‘Pretty hard lines,” .Uncle Peter ad- mitied, seating himself before the fire. ‘*Makes me think of the time when I was laid up in a cowboy’s cabin on the Ne- braska plains, and every day seemed as long as a wee ““Yes, that’s just it!” Julian echo d. ““It seems a whole month since 1’ve had my skates on. I wish you'd tell us a good, rousing story, Uncle Peter; mnot anything you've read —something that really happened.’”’ “Long ago, when you were a boy,” Ned suggested. “‘Oh, that1s not so very long ago,”" Mr. Brindlow answered, drily—*‘twice as long as yours and Julian’s ages, minus Jim’s.” While Ned made rapid calcalstions on his fingers, Jim and Cicely came in from their walk in the park, and Mary followed with the lamps, for it was almost aark; but Uncle Peter said that the firelignt was much more appropriate for story-telling— 10 which they all agreed. Mr. Brindlow was uncle by courtesy only; but, as Ned often observed, *‘he could not be nicer if he was a true rela- tion.” “When I was a small boy, something over thirty years ago,” he began, when his little audience was circled cozily around the fire, “my father movei to Colorado and took up a squatter’s claim in a very lonely part of the Territory, | fifty miles west of where Denver was afterward built. “Soon after we moved there a town |Sprang up a dozen miles away, on a branch of the Piatte River. There was talk of a school and many modern im- provements, which were never realized, for the whole scheme went up like a sud- den flame and died out completely, leav- ing us as far away from civilization' as ever. “There were three of us—Harry, next to me, and Dot, a little, rosy, chubby girl of 3—ail about as happy as any children could be. Mother worried because there were no scuools or other advantages for us, and, as time went by, urged father to make a bome elsewhere for our sakes; hut we were corpelled to live on the claim for five years or lose the land right. “It happened, three years after we set- tled there, that an Eastern mining com- pany sold cff 2 lot of land, eight or ten miles away, including a worked-out mine, | which went at auction price, and father bought & small portion of it for a few dol- lars—seven, I think. "But the men said it was not worth that. It was only a little circle of mounds at the foot of Sandy Mountain. “When other purchasers reopened the mines as an experiment they discovered what appeared to be a vein of valuable gold ore on my father’s property. He im- | mediately put all his savings into mining apparatus ana began work “*As it was necessary for him to be away irom home the greater part of the time, be looked about for a man to keep an eye on his home property while he was away, and sleep in the cabin, though mother protested against the idea, saying that she | was not afraid with two such big boys to protect ber. At all events, the right man could not be found and father was forced to leave us. “‘One afternoon, two weeks later, when we were at work over our winter woodpile, a young fellow came down the trail from the upper settlement and, on observing us, stopped at the gate to ask his way to Monica mines. We told him it was ten miles by the gulch road, straight ahead. He shaded his eyes from the direct rays of the sun, calculating how long its wan- ing light would last. *“We saw at a glance that he was of In- dian blood—probably a nalf-breed Man- dan, as that tribe was most numerous then. He was tall and straight as an ar- row, with finely poised head, thin, aqui- line features, swarthy skin and the pierc- ing black eyes of his race. e would have been handsome but for the unlovely ma-ks of hardship and deprivation. Two gobolinks bold, ‘With noses cold, Went out to have a fight, But mid’st much concern They soon did return In quite a sorry looking plight. ARTHUR FENNIMORE. “‘You can’t walk all that way to- night?' Harry said, interrogatively. *‘Yes, I must,’ be replied, in good Eng- lish, i3 “But Harry ran in to ask mother's opin- ion; and when she returned with him and saw how tired and travel-Worn the poor 7 tm%’fl) BY by L) MARY WA ¥ > RICHARDS N ) 7 fellow was, she asked him in to restand share our evening meal. “He told us that he was called Joe by his English-speaking friends, but his In- dian name was Littlee White-Hawk. He had no home, and was going to Monica mines in hopes of finding work. “*We knew he would be disappointed in this, for father had vold us he bad more | workmen than he could employ steadily, and every day brought more laborers froin | the surrounding country, all of which | mother told bim. ““When supper was over it was guite dark, and mother asked Joe to stay over night with us, for in those days the coyotes were pretty thick out there, and occasionally a mountain lion strayed down in search of prey, making a lonely night trip rather dangerous. *Welli, to shorten my story, mother was so well imypressed with Joe's quiet be. havior and frank, honest face, that she of- fered him a home for the winter in return for his services about the house, which he thankfully accepted. “‘He turned out to be a good, obliging fellow, respectful, intelligent and kind, especially to Dot, of whom he grew very fond. Father was also much pleased with him, and after his advent came home less | often, for he was extremely busy at th | mines. He was prospering beyond his ex- pectations. *‘He brought home several times boxes ot gold dust for safekeeping untit Le could | dispose of it at Santa Fe, for, in spite of all his precautions at the mines, some hndi DOGGIE been “stolen. As no one knew he took it home it was perfectly safe placed in our cellar in an iron box behind the potato barrel. ‘‘Autumn lengthened into early winter of unusual severity, snow fell steadily day after day until the roads were impassabie, except for stout-hearted woodsmen, who plunged waist-deep through the feathery mass, for it was at first too soft for snow- shoes. “Joe plodded cheerfully through the drifts when occasion required a trip to the nearest settlement for food or some neces- sity. Nothing was too hard or too tire- some for him. He had the true Indian spirit—the dogged perseverance that never flinches—having once undertaken a task be never relinquished it until he bad con- quered it. “‘His unfailing cheerfulness shamed us when we felt inclined to grumble over trifles. At night, when we sat before the biazing hearth in our little snow-bound cabin, and mother read to us or taught us simple lessons from old schoolbooks, Joe was always most attentive and eager to learn. *‘One afternoon Mr. Avery,a man from the upper settlement, came out to see mother on what he called very particuiar business. 2 “‘Borry to trouble you,’ he began, liit- ing his hat as he came in, but refusing to be seated. ‘I want to see that Indian servant of yours,” “‘Joe,’ mother corrected, quietly. ‘He is not at home.’ “ ‘Hem! Ivs rather important that I shouid see him,’ he said. ‘Fact is, I've ROt a warrant for his arrest. Perhapsyou remember sending him to me iast week with a message from Mr. Brindlow. Well, while he waited in my house he stole a $10 bill which my wife had carelessiy left on her dresser. 1 found that bill at Wil-, son’s store, passed by tne Indian, Wilson said. I knew the bill the minutz I set my eye on it, for it was a perfectly new treas- ury note. I'd marked it in one corner by a scratch of my thumbnail. Quite unmis- takable evidence, you see.’ *‘Of course we did not believe Joe guilty. Mother entreated Mr. Avery to withdraw the charge, but this he refused to do, say- ing it was not his first offense. *“‘He has been with us four months,’ mother scid, in Joe's defense, ‘and in all that time has given ‘me no cause to com- plain. I think you are mistaken in spite of your circumstantial evidence.’ ‘“‘But I bave abundant proofs that he is an old offender,” Mr. Avery insisted. ‘He’s old Chippewah’s scn, to begin with. After his father's capture he was sent to Montana to a Mandan school, where he was clothed and fed, but was finally ex- velled on account of general vagrancy.’ “That was bal, but it did not convince mother of Joe’s worthlessness. She begged bis accuser to give him another trial, offering also to refund the money he was accused of stealing. Mr. Avery protested at firsy, saying it was not so much the . offense itself as the principle that prompted it that he looked at, but after polite hesi- tation he took the money and went his way. “Joe returned from the mines that night, tired and hungry. Mother gave him his supper in the kitchen, while we hovered over the sitting-room fire, full of evil apprehensions. ‘“‘After along time the door opened and Joe appeared, locking very vale even in the rosy glow of the firelight. We ex- | pected fervent protestations of innocence, and his unnatural quiet frightened us more than a confession of guilt would have done. “‘I will go away,” he said, gravely, looking straight into our eager, troubled faces. ** ‘Not to-night,” Harry entreated. know it is not irue.’ “‘Part of it is,’ Joe admitted, with a great effort to control his emotion. ‘Iam Chippewah’s son, and I did run away from the school, but I have never stolen anything in my life—ob, never!’ *We urged him to stay at least over ‘We night, but he would not be persuaded against his own judgment. He murmured s - WON'T EAT THE BANANA a faint good-by to each of us, and with a dry sob rushed out into the gathering gloom of the early winter's ni ht, Dot’s sorrowful little wail following him from the open door. ‘‘As the days wore on to weeks, we missed him sorely; our evening circle was incomplete without his slender figure in the chimney corner; the stories were duller without his swiit, brilliant smile and mellow laughter and his eager inter. est to stimulate us. “When Mr. Avery heard that Joe had left us he very unjustly circulated the story of his supposed thelt, and added a long line oémisdemennnn gathered from uncertain sources, ‘I regret to say that we boys, who knew Joe so well and should bave upheld his honor, began to believe evil things of him, as he did not return to contradict the rumors; but when father came home, some time after that, he told us Joe was working at the mines and was very much liked. “The long winter gradually meited into spring rains of hardly more warmth than December suows. Rivers of rain-water ru-hed down the mountain side 1n perfect torrents; every high gale broke off the ice-laden branches like straws, making traveling extremely dangerous. “We were rain-bound in a way that is hard to understand here in the East. There was nothing 1o do but wait for fair Wweatber, (To be Concluded next Sunday.) A A monala étovy. I suppose you have all heard the wise saying, “Do not try to kill tio birds with one stone.” A little boy named Donald, whom most of you feel quite well ac- quainted with, had his attention called to it 1 some way a short time ago and was quite esnxious to understand its exact meaning. His auntie very carefuily ex- plained 1t to him, and the cute little fel- low, feeling very important, stored it away in his memory-box for future use. But alas! alas! the mischievous Brownie who has charge of that box plays sad pranks with its contents sometimes and wixes things up pretly badly, as he did in Donald’s case. A few evenings after the above con- versation, when it was time for wee boys 10 ¢o to Slumberland, Donald’s mamma said to him, **Begin to undress now, dear, and when mamma has your soft little nest all ready she’ll do the finishing-up part.” “All right,” answered the lad, as he took his favorite picture-book, opened it and placed it on his mamma’s bed. Then he began slowly to unbutton his coat, standing in front of the book, and looking at the pictures the while. Mamma left the room on some errand without glanc- ing in Donala’s direction. On her return she found him gazing with delight at a picture of a moukey pulling a dog’s tail, and still slowly working away at the first button! *‘Oh, dear!”” she cried, “‘when shall I ever succeed in teaching my boy to do one thing at a time!"” “But, mamma,’’ quickly answered Don- ald, gs he went to work with a will,don’t you see, I was killing one bird with two stones!” M. W. R. Jirpaie and Belte. Oh, Jim and Belle are very dear friends! One never without the other. Jimmie loves Belle best on earth, Next to his own dear mother. When Jimmie runs away te school Belle is always sure to follow, And then the teacher fires her out, Because she’s such & poor, poor scholar. Jimmie goes to church on Sunday, And Belle waits upon the stair, . Whether she’s cold, or tired of waiting, Nobody ever seems to care. Jimmie sometimes goes a-calling, Of course poor Belle stays outside. If he jumps upon a streetear, She runs along, but has never a ride. Jim and the boys went camping, And gladly took Miss Belle along, ‘When all around the fire were singing, She didn’t know even a line of a song. PEELS. And, then, when the boys were driliing, She sat quite stili and watched herchum. She.couldu’t march a step with them, or éven beat a drum. Sunday morn the girls came round To visit the boys in comp. None came for Jim, so off with Belle, He went over the hills to tramp, Now this is why Jim loved her so, And by his side lets her jog. Belle is not & girl, you know, But only a big black dog. WILLIE LYONS (age 8 years). Another §fse. A city girl has spent her whole summer in trying to elevate the simple country people with whom she was boarding, says the Detroit Tribune. Now she was bid- ding them adieu. *'Good-by, Mr. Stiles,” she said, “I hope my visit here hasn’t been entirely with- out good re-ults.” “Sartin not,” said Farmer Stiles, “sar. tin not. You've learnt a heap since you first come; but by cracky, you was about the greenest one we ever had on our hands.” A Prof ff_mt‘ fenger. M. Calino recently sent a new servant girl on an errand. Green to city ways she iost her way and did everyihing wrong. *You've no sense at alll'”’ M, Calino stormed, when she returned. ‘“The next time I want an idiot todo an errand for me I’ll—I'll go mysel:!” Pat’ 3 Watr'g. From Harper's Jlound Table. An Irishman took his watch toa jew- eler's to have it repeired. The jeweler, after examining it, said the mending would amount to $8, and he asked the man if he was willing to pay that much. “Sure,”” answered Pat, “if you’re willing to take the watch in part payment.” ——————————— “Are you still troubled by your neigh- bor’s chickens?” asked one man of au- otber. *Not a bit,”” was the answer. kept shut up now.” “‘How did you manage it?” “Why, every night I put a lot of eggs in the grass under the grapevine and every morning, when my neighbor was looking, 1 went out and brought them in.” “They are Charlie (reading his composition)— Every rabbit has four legs and one anec- e. do’i‘eucher—Whnt do you mean by an an- ecdote? Charlie—A short, funny tail.—Up-to- Date. CASTELLA, Nov. 6, 1896. Dear Editor Children's Page: I am a little girl 10 years old. I have never written to THE CALL; 50 I thought I would write to it to-day. We live in Castells, and I go to school and am in the fourth grade. I have one sister and two brothers. Every term our teacher gives us diplomas, and I received the highest of any scholar. My little brother, who is just seven, won the second. I shall not write any more this time, as it is my first letter to you. Ire- main yours truly, ANNETTA GIRARD. SAX Josg, Cal., Nov.,1896. Tear Editor: I have tried very hard to make up a piece, and I hope you will publish it in Sunday’s CALL. We take THE CALL, and think it is a nice paper. I take elocution and like it very much. I am 11 yearsold. Yours truly, MYRTLE L. ROBERTS. PLACERVILLE, Nov. 5, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam alittle girl 10 years old. Igo to school most every day. My teacher’s name is Miss Waddell. Ilike her very much. I like to read Childhood’s Realm. I have not seen any letters from Placerville yet. 1 have two s1sters—one 18 two and a half years old. My oldest sister is 17. I have one brother who is16. I have a dog who is not quite a foot tall. Your constant reader, BLANCHE E. STOUT. SAN FrANCISco, Nov. 8, 1896. Dear Editor: As we have not taken you very long I thought I would write and get ac- quainted with you, for I ke you very much. I read your children’s page to-day and en- joyed it. 1send you two gobolinks, which are not very good, but the best I could do. Hoping to see my gobolinks in print, I remain yours wuly, ARTHUR FENNIMORE. 8AN FRANCISCO, Cal.. Nov. 7, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my third letter to you. and though my others were written some time ago I have read the “Cnildren’s Page” constantly. I am glad McKinley is elected. | My papa takes THE CALL, but he took the Ex- aminer just this one week, and when I was looking at the “Children’s Page” in 1t, I saw in a letter one girl said, “Of course Bryan is going to be elected and the silver mines in New Mexico, Arizona and Montana will open up again,” but she will be disappointed, won't she? I did not see the big parade the Saturday before election, but I saw one last night. I will be glad when Christmas comes. I was born the 28th of February and have had a Christmas tree every Christmas, and will this year, too. I will close now and hope you will print this, as I want to belong to the club. HAZEL BELL. BERKELEY, Cal.,, Nov. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: 1have not written before, so I thought I would write now. We have taken THE CALL for about six years. I read the children’s page and like it very much. Iam 10 yearsold and in the fifth grade of the Le Conte School. Iam now making some hand- kerchiefs for a bazaar to be given by our church. Your reader, Eva CoOPER. BAN Josg, Cal., Nov. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: 1am a little boy, 6 yearsold. I can read a little and write. Iam giad McKin- ley 1s elected. My little brother and I haa six horns to toot for nim. I like the children’s page in THE CALL, My mamma reads it to me every Sunday. LELAND BRYANT. SAN FraNcisco, Cal.,, Nov. 8, 1896. Dear Fditor: My father has been taking THE CALL for 2)¢ years. Ilike to read the children’s page. I read all the letters, and I thoughtI would write one, too. Iam in the fitth grade. I am glad that McKinley got elected. I enjoyed the piece about ‘*Our Pres- ident.” Please don’t throw my letter in the ‘waste basket. Your friend, BLANCHE ELLERT, 1418 Ellis st. Crry, Nov. 9. Dear Editor: 1am alittle boy, 8 yearsold. I g0 to school and I am in the second A. I like my teacher very much. Ihavea little white bunny with piuk eyes. Iteats off mamma’s roses. Yours truly, HAROLD YOUNGER, SaN Fraxcisco, Nov. 10, 1896. Dear Editor: Iam a little girl 8 years oid. I have been very sick all summer, and did not nave much fun. I read the children’s page every Sunday and enjoy it very much. Your new friend, EMELIA MAY GUNNISON. VALLEJO, Cal., Nov. 8, 1896, Dear Editor: I want to see women vote, and Iam glad that McKinley was elected. This s my first letter to THE CALL. I hope you will publish it. Ihave two cats and a fine dog. I am 9 years old. We have been in Vallejo six years and like it very well. 1made a boat and put it in the bay, but it was stolen. I have twe oars and a sail. Ialso have & horse and goat. Idon't want to impose on your space. Your friend, TIMOTHY STAR CHAMBERLIN. . EMERYVILLE, Nov. 9, 1896. Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CALL. Iam aboy 8 years of age. Iam for Me- Kinley. I have a little brother 3 years old. When Iask him what's the matter with Mc- Kinley he says, “Him’s all right..” I1liké the Childbood’s Realm very much. My papa and mamma like THE CALL the bestof all the pa- pers. Ienjoyed the story about the North Star mine. Iwentall through the mine once when I was visiting my grandma in Grass Valley. MARMADUKE MADDER. OAKLAND, Cal., Nov. 9, 1596, Dear Editor: This is my first letter to THE CALL. Iam alittle boy and my age is 9 yerrs. We take THE CALL and I read it every day after school. Ilike the children's page very much and would be plessed to have my letter in the paper. We enjoy THE CALL because it is a Mc- Kinley paper and is the besi on the cosst. Please do not throw my letter into the waste- basket.. Your new friend, BERT VALENTINE. SAN LEANDRO, Cal, Nov. 4. Dear Editor: We are sure McKinley is eiected now and we are all glad. I have two brothers, and a sister named Mabel. She .wishes to write a letter, t0o. Weliked the Naughty Max stories so well I thought I would call our dog Max; he tears our dresses. We intended to send you some pressed clover last summer, but did not get them ready: but if you wish them we will send some next spring. I would like to belong to the C. R. C. Club if you think I write a good enough letter. But memma is afrald T am too little to write anything much; Iam only 8 years old. Your iriend, GRACE BRENTON. SouTH SAN FRANCISCO, Nov. 5, 1896, Dear Fditor: 1 em a little girl 7 years old. £0 t0 the Burnett School. My teacher’s name is Miss Morrison. I enjoy reading the chil dren’s page. This is the thira letter I have written 10 THE CaLL. I guess I will close. Yours trpiy, AMELIA BOEHRINGER. = LB £ LES Ll At w il i L. Cross-word enigma: My 1 is in thanks but not in please; My 2 1s in curtsey but not in knees; My 8 is in row but not in line; My 4 isin drink but not in dine; My 5 is in whole but not 1n half; My 6 is in cry but not in laugh, About my whole There’s & story old That to the children Is often told. How it to-day Mignt the emblem be Of this. our Naiion, The “land of the free.” I1. Hidden coin: Is this hill in good repair? III. Why is your nose like *'v"’ in civil? E. M. B. IV. Out of the letters of the following words make the name of & statesman: I claw my lime kiln. M. SeLtG. V. 1am two words—or three parts: My 1 is very bright, My 2, I'm sure, is never night; My 3 is heard when boys play ball, And now, my friends, you have it all. RETHA WALDAN. VL Dropped vowels; & proverb: Lst sd snst mndd. VIL From & word meaning “diabolical” form “a vessel in which to serve food,’’ and also form a word meaning ‘‘wrong.” VIIL Which is the stronger, land or water? and why ? IX. Why is Queen Victoria like & hat? T. Joos. X. (@) What well-known country of South America will best describe a cold day? (b) Then wnat geographical features woula prove desirable? M. MASTERSON. XL ENIGMA. Iam a case all pure and white, Fashioned most wondrously. If broken there will come to light A golden globe in me. —Selected. XIIL. HIDDEN ANIMALS. (a) Send the sixth or seventh boy to town. () I met you a year sgo at the London bridge. LILLIE MASKOW. XIIL WORD SQUARE. 2. A masculine name. 2. A musical instrument. 3. A tenement. 4. Extremity. Note—Four lines, four letters in each. Correct .Hn Jw(efj' L Gent—eel—genteel. II. Priest—sir—pet. IIL Tinsel—silent. IV. Dime. V. Doe—otter—cat—mastiff—bear—ape—dog. VI Love to live and live to love. VIL Benjamin Frapklin. VIII. Because it is the phrase (frays) of men. IX. Rice—ice. X. Honesty is the best volicy. Puzz.e solvers for November 8: Max Selig (C. R. C.), Alice Bell (C. R. C.), Ella R. Hartnell (C. R. C.), Julia Hoizberger, Willie Carrick, Theodore Joos (C. R. C.) and Elsie Akelan. Besides letters published pleasant communie cations have aiso been received from tho young friends whose names follow: Bessie H. Rebardo, Bessie MacMahon, Josie Egan, Flor- ence Lyman, Grace Clark (C. R. C.), Gertrude Spellan, Annie Elphick, Annie Bell Bailey (C. R. C.), Gerona Herbert, Grace Burke, Kate Me- Donneil, Alma Weeks, Jennie E. Reno, Retha Waldan, Elsie Aklan, Theodore Joos (C. R. C.). A Uery Cote hLaé. There have been and are many pictur- esque little boys in San Francisco, but few will strike the eye more pleasantly than this lad, whose name is Jesse McMurray, the son of H. McMurray. His picture tells his story very well, and better than words, and yet one little anecdote fits in very well. His father punished him one morning before going to the office, and at the Jessie McMurray. supper-table no one was talking to the boy, who spoke up and said: *Pepa, did you have a fadder wnen you was a Iittle boy ?” His father said, *Yes.” *Did your fadder ever whip yon "u you was a little by 2 s The father said: “Yes, when I was bad.” The boy said: “Did you love your fadder when he whipped you !’ ";na father said he did not remember. he boy asked: “Don’t i 9 fadder was a bad boy?” S0 Sk your 1Y ¥ st/