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Show A'ii&,te BY Aunt Bu Dear Nephews and Nieces: Of ouurse you have already ntorcd into the sjiii it of the holy season, vhioh bejzan last Wednesday. Aunt J'-usy hopoa that all her little hoys and piris w ill make every effort during Lout to le particularly pood. ?ut no mure prt aching for thif time. A little niece In Lureka has written us a very interesting inter-esting letter this week. No, Aunt IJusy v as never in Kureka. A little girl in Hamilton has written . another entertaining letter. Her little Salt Lake cousins love to read her letters. let-ters. , Gordon Bonner has something real : sweet to tell us of his mother. Aunt I-iuay has three letters from her charming: charm-ing: Ogrdcn nephews, which will appear in the next ifsue. Good-bye. dear little Intermountain readers. Write often to AUNT BUSY. , -? Hamilton. Nev., Feb. 11, 1900. Dear Aunt Busy: As 1 paw my la?t letter in print, I think I will write a.erain. How are you? We are all well. I like to read the stories sto-ries in the paper. My papa pave me a nice upright piano for Christmas, and mamma is teaching me to play. I am very plad that my letter was printed, for I was afraid it would not be. 1 live six miles from any girl about my own ace. but I have three little cousins up here who are 7, and 4 yearn old. I have many little cousins back in Utah, but I do not know all of them, as I have never been to Salt Lake but. once in all my life. Our weather is delightful delight-ful here for this time of the year, but It looks like storm any day now. Well, I fruess I will close. Good-bve. Aunt Busy. I remain, as ever, your loving jiiece. MARGARET McELLIN, Hamilton, White Pine county, Nev. Dear Aunt Busy: ' One of the boys in my class wrote to you. His name was in your paper, so I thought I would write, too. I just got back to the college last Sunday. I was iick in Holy Cross hospital for three weeks with rheumatism. My mother came from Butte to see me, and Mayed at the hotel. I stayed a week with her after I left the hospital, and had a nice time. 1 think this will be all I will say just now, so I will close. . Hoping you are well, I remain, your loving nephew. BONNER GORDON, age 10. Eureka. Utah, Feb. 13, 1900. Dear Aunt Busy: Am I have seen in the papers so many letter.5: that you received from your nephews and nieces. I thought I would write you one. Have you ever visited the city of Eureka? I guess you would be afraid to do so now, as it has a bad reputation for sickness. It is situated in a little valley about ninety miles south of Salt Lake, and if surrounded by mountains. The chief occupation of it inhabitants is mining, and it has eight large mines. There are about ".0'0 inhabitants, 'and two schools, St. Joseph's and the public school. The , former has about 100 pupils, and the latter ."00. St. Joseph's school is on Church street, and just by the side of it is St. Patrick's church. I am in the third preparatory class. If you will accept me as one of your nieces, I will write again and try to say something more interesting to you and my little cousins. Yours trulv. GENEVIEVE SULLIVAN. Eureka, Utah. IOgden, Utah, Feb. 21. 1900. Dear Aunt Busy: This is a bitter cold day, and I will warm myself by writing you a letter instead of running around the yard and fooling with the boys. We areoing lo hae a contest in arithmetic oiMon- ' day. and Father Cushnahan will be present. The low class had a test this morning, and do you think that the smallest child in the class got ahead? I don't fear the test in arithmetic very much, but I fear the test in catechism very mui-n. though I am studying very hard. The new church is getting along nicely, and will be built by Fall. I hope we boy;i will make our first communion in it. When I get too big for St. Jo- feph's I will bog papa to send me to the All Hallows College, Salt Lake. There ar several of our Ogden buys there, and we hear that they are doing well. Charles A. Maguire was our best boy last year. He is now at the col- j J lege. We miss him very much and hope that he will knock the starch out of the Salt Lakers. Love from your CLAYTON KERN AN. A LITTLE HOUSEWIFE'S DREAM, (By S. K. Simons.) I'd like to sail away in h boat. And nv"r come back at all, To c drifting along upon the waves: The waves that are placid and small. Or else I'd like all day to ride In a. ca Triage open and easy. Over downs and meadows just sunny enough, , And o'er hills that were gently breezy. Or. fi!ini; both these. I'd like to lie In a hammock and swing and ywing, Willi a beautiful cherry tree over my ll'-a.i. And two little birds to t-'mg. When I was hungry, the cherries should fall. And when I wanted to slumber. The two little birds should change their tune, And sing lullabies without number. Or, better than all. I should like to repose-(tn repose-(tn a couch in a splendid saloon. Arrayt-J. of course, in beautiful clothes. And thinking about the moon. While a pretty youth should play the guitar. ' A second should tell me a tale. i And a third should stand by with a plate of ir: cream. And seme iced lemonade in a. pail. But instead f all this I've got cooking to ilo; Washing and baking and mending. And as for the rest well, it's jus; the truth. Woman's work is never-ending. AN AVERTED QUAE BEL. Toodles and Toddles were two little kittens. kit-tens. Exactly alike except in name. Around Toodles' neck was a piece of blue ribbon: Around Toodles' neck was a piece of the same. Said Toodies to Toddles: "Get out of my Said T.nldles to Toodles: "This basket Is mine:"' i - ' And then there ensued a" great n'ttin and snarling. " Till Toodles espied a small ball of twine. So, broking away from his little white brother. He started lo run. mi a frolic intent. Lut roddl.-s- was cute, and divining his purpose. To retM-h the bad first after Toodles he wont. But. eluding their grasp, the ball rolled and bounded. And after it scampered each kitten in glee; Till, quarrel forgotten, they soon were enjoying A boisterous romp, quite g-od naturedly. Then old Mother Tab, from her seat on the hassock, Said, putting her paw up to hide a slight cough: "I really should judge, from all indications. indica-tions. The tight that was brewing can be declared de-clared off." THE LITTLE CHILD. A simple-hearted child was He, And He was nothing more: In summer days, like you and me, He played about the dour, t Or gathered, where the father tailed, The shavings from the Moor. Sometimes He lay upon the grass. The same as you and I, And saw the. hawks above him pass, Like specks against the skv; Or. clinging to the gate He watched The stranger passing by. A simple child, and yet I think. The bird-folk must have known, The unarrnw and th. H.ih.iiinL- And oiaimed Him for their own. And gathered round Him fearlessly When He was all alone. The lark, the linnet and the dove, The chaffinch and the wren. They musi have known His watchful love And given their worship then: They must have known and glorified The Child who died for men. And when the sun at break of day ("reipt in upon His hair, I ihink it must have left a ray Of unseen glory there. A kiss of love on that little brow For the thorns that it must wear. IF. If evry boy and every girl, Arising with the sun. Should plan this day to do alone The good deeds to be done; Should scatter smiles and kindly words, Strong, helpful hands should lend. And to each other's wants and cries Attentive ears should lend; If every man and woman, too. Should join these workers small O. what a flood of happiness Upon our earth would fall! How many homes would sunny be, Which now are filled with care! What joyous, smiling faces, too, AVould greet us everywhere! ! I do believe the very sun Would shine more clear and bright, And every little twinkling star Would shed a softer light. But we, instead, oft watch to see If other folks are true. And thus neglect so much that God Intends for us to do. MAGGIE. BY CLARENCE MASTERS. . Maggie Carroll stood in the doorway of her little room on the third floor of Mrs. Fitzgerald's apartment house. She had juet come from the office, with her wages paid in full, and a notice that her services would no longer be needed. They were going to reduce the force of clerks one-third, the junior member of the firm had said, and of course the last comers must go first She had feared it might come, and had even prepared for it as far as possible pos-sible by peeking work elsewhere; but in vain. There were far more applicants appli-cants for work in the city than there wees work for them to do. So nothing remained for her but to go back to the little cottage at Chippenham, Chip-penham, where the. ir.eadvwe ncr broai and sweet and the air pure and the i-ky free from smoke; to the careworn, gentle-voiced father and the stven blister-' ous brothers and sifters, all younger than hensidf. Her eyes kindled at thought of them. It would be like heav I en to go back again after the long j dreary year in London. i But the glow faded even quicker than it had come, and her eyes grew moiut with regretful tenderness. The careworn care-worn father had more mouths to provide pro-vide for now than it was easy to do, and her going 'home would only add to his burden. It had been to help him that she had striven to get a position as governess or public-echoal teacher, and failing in thi.s hope, that she had "gone to London to work a a. copying clerk at a pitifully 6ina.ll salary. But meagre aa the salary had been, one-half one-half of it had paid for the tiny room on Mrs. Fitzgerald's third floor, and furnished Maggie's inadequate supply of food and clothing, and the ether half, until the last two months, had pone regularly to the little cottage at Chippenham. These last two months had made a new division in her salary. Now it was in three parts, and the third went up to the fourth floor of Mrs. Fitzgerald's Fitzger-ald's apartment house, to a room even -more tiny and bare than her own. She had heard a low moaning one day, apparently ap-parently from the room above, and had gone up and tapped anxiously on the door. Several minutes had passed before she heard a feeble step cross the fioor, and then the door had 'opened and she had looked into the sweetest most refined old face she had ever seen: but ah, so wan. and patient and hopeless! No. nothing was wanted, the old woman had said; she had only lost control of herself for a moment, that was all. And she smiled with Pitiful cheerfulness ae she closed the door. But Maggie had seen enough. That face, and one brief glimpse into the room "beyond, had sent her hurrying down stairs after her own bowl of soup and bit of bread and butter. And in ?pite of the old woman's protests and entreaties, she had literally forced her to eat, laughing, but unyielding and firm. And with the first spoonful of soup there had come a light into the woman's eyes which made Maggie turn abruptly and walk to the one small window, choking back something in her throat. It was as she had euspect- ea. oniV worse. The old woman, had been literally starving. Since then they had been pood friends; Maggie, tender and imperious, bringing her own oil etove and provisions provis-ions to the fourth floor room, so that there should be no more question of hunger; and the old woman deprecatory depreca-tory but yielding. It meant les3 for the little cottage at Chippenham, and lesu for herself.but Maggie isc-arcely thought of these things. Her father would have it so, she knew; her old friend was in greater need than they, and should be looked after first. She was thinking of her now a.s she stood in the doorway and glanced about her little room. What would she do, with no one in all the great house to care for her? She wa.3 not like these people, not accustomed to battle with poverty. Maggie had read that in her voice, in her language, in her soft, delicate del-icate hands, in all her dainty, refined ways. She knew little of her history, only that she had lcet her family in Australia, and her fortune; and that she had had just money enough left to reach London. From a few chance sentences. Maggie believed there were wealthy relatives in England, and thai the old lady was too proud to seek them. She did not know, but probably there had been an estrangement, and the fault had been theirs. Well, perhaps she could obtain a few music scholars at Chippenham, or find some other work to do. if sh earned anything, part of the money should be sent to Mrs. Fitzgerald's lodger. And in the meantime, one should have the oil-stove and the smail supply of provisions on hand. And yen, she should have that bit of carpet she had bought. It would be warm for the i)oor old feet. So when she went up to the fourth floor to say gocd-bye, she carried the bit of carpet, and a teapot, and some bevoka An hour was spent in talking and planning, and then she turned to leave, the old woman following her to tha door. "I will not try to thank you, dear," she s-aid. softly, "words are so inadequate. inade-quate. But you know" she removed a curiously-wrought circlet of gold from her finger and slipped it on one of Maggie's. "I want you to wear this to remember me by. It is not valuable, valua-ble, but my father brought it from India, In-dia, and gave it to me long, long ago, when I was a little giri. He said the tiny setting was a luck stone, and that the ring should be my talisman to good fortune." She smiied wistfully, and added: ad-ded: "I hope the fortune will be better for you than it has been for me, dear." The next day Maggie found the train toward Chippenham crowded. There had been a political gathering of unusual un-usual importance, and now people were going back to their country homes. Every compartment seemed full, and at last, as though in desperation, the guard thrust her into a coach and hurried hur-ried away. Inside, Maggie stood irresolute, looking look-ing about. All the seats were occupied 1 save one. and that contained the wraps of a young lady, a little older than herself. her-self. Opposite sat an old man, doubt-lee;? doubt-lee;? her father, and a young man reading a newspaper. Evidently It wag a family party, and she hesitated to intrude. But the young lady noticing her hesitation, smilingly removed the i wraps, and Maggie with a sigh of thankfulness, accepted the proffered ser.t. On rushed the train, past Uxbridge, and Eton; through broad, rich meadows and noble parks; over the Thames and through estates whose only divisions were hedges, tall, green, and ancient; with glimpses here and there of stately state-ly homes almost hidden by foilage. Many of the passengers left at Reading, Read-ing, and Maggie made a movement as though to go across to one of the vacated seats opposite. The young man looked up from his newspaper. For a moment he scarcely seemed aware of her presence, then his glance happened hap-pened to fall upon the ring on her finger. fin-ger. V "Why, I I beg your pardon." he exclaimed, in startled surprise. "I know it is very unusual, but would you mind showing me your ring? The design is very odd. I never saw but one like it in my life." Maggie raised her hand, and he look- eu at uie mis more nuseiy. "Exactly like it," he said, "exactly." The old man had been regarding them indifferently. Now he leaned forward with sudden interest. "What ring?" he asked. Then, with evident surprise in his voice: "So it is, I like your mother's, exactly." He re- garded the ring for a moment, then leaned back. "Not so very odd, though, perhaps. These jewelers make everything every-thing nowadays; and if a design is quaint and old-fashioned, so much the more eager are they to get it. But there's a rather odd story connected with the original design of that ring, young lacy. Harold's grandfather brought two from India, and gave one to his mother and the ether to his Aunt Clara. Talismans or luck stones, he called them. Not very valuable, perhaps, except for their association and the fact that their design was invented in-vented by an Indian rajah." He paused and glanced fntm the window, then touched his son on the shoulder. "Balston Hall," he said. The train was rushing through an open piece of country, and in the distance, dis-tance, almost hidden by trees, rose the white walls of a stately edifice. "Part of our property," the young man explained to Maggie. "Yes," the old man said, musingly, "ours because all trace is lost of ttio true owner. Sometimes I wonder if the property has any real heirs. I would like to know, for the old man did not treat Clara right at her marriage. I think he realized it himself, and that he wished to atone when he left Bals-ton Bals-ton Hall to her or her heirs, in trust, through all time. Well, what is it?" as he noticed the eager, wondering light in Maggie's face. "That name is inside my ring Clara." she said. "What!" Then, imperiously, "Let me see it." Maggie gave him the ring, and he examined it eagerly, critically. "Yes. it is the same," he concluded. "How did it come into your possession?" posses-sion?" Maggie explained in a few words. When she finished, the old man sprang to his feet and glanced from the window. win-dow. They were approaching Wotton. "I will stop here and take the first train back to London," he said, hurriedly. hur-riedly. "Harold, you and Edith go on to the hall, and tell your mother not to expect me before tomorrow. Perhaps Per-haps I shall bring some one with me." Ten days later a note was brought to Maggie at the little Chippenham co-tage. co-tage. It read: "My Dear Friend Maggie: "Will you come and be my companion at the hall? My sister and brother and their children are very good; but I need some one who will be with me ail the time. I can think of no one but you. In fact. I want no one but you Will you come? The salary will free your father from all further cause for anxiety. Your friend,' 'CLARA' BERKELEY." HOW NICK LANGAN DIED. , Woorbrldge. Feb. 4, 1900. On a cot in St. Michael's hospital. New-xTr.k' New-xTr.k' Jr" unconscious and dying, is! Nicholas Langan. of Woodbridge a fire-' man. who sacrificed himself to save his mates. t tuLan,?an ls 2n oiler on the "tent shift at the Guggenheim smelter, near Wood-bridge, Wood-bridge, and Mat McCarthy is the engineer. The men went into the engine room at 71 o'clock on Sunday night to relieve the day shift. j. The emgine is a massive high speed one used to run the vast machinery of the works, and the electric plant. The men were in the act of drawing on their overalls over-alls when the targe li-ineh belt slipped from the flywheel. The engine, relieved of the weight of the shafting and machinery, started to run at terrific speed. The flywheel revolved faster than the eye could follow it. Langan Lan-gan was nearest the throttle, and he realized that, l,rrl.s the engine were stopped, there would be a terrible acci-der.t. acci-der.t. which would probably mean death to all hands.': " He jumped for the throttle and shut down the engine. Just then the huge flywheel broke, hurling tons of metal around him with the force of a cannon ball. The large engine was wrecked. Pieces of the wheel wer? hurled through the roof and 300 feet outside. The ret of the men had seen the flywheel about to break, and dropped behind convenient ' pieces of machinery and escaped unhurt. ; . Had it not been that the steam was cut ; off and the speed lessened, not a man I would have escaped. As soon as the crew recovered their : senses they rushed to the wreck of what : had once been a magnificent engine. Unconscious", Un-conscious", under the piie of broken iron, and bleeding from half a dozen wounds, lay Langan. Doctors came from Perth Ambov, but said they could do nothing for him. and he was sent to the hospital, where, it is said, he will not live many j hours. j Langan has a wife and six children. While you drop the wreath on the sold-! ier's. grave Who faced the foe in pride: Here's only the tale of n workingman. But. listen how Langan di?d! Nick Langan, the engine oiler, Whose widow and six kids wait. In vain, for the smile on ;t father's face, Lis touch on tho cottage sate! The shift was changing on Sunday nighj When the main belt slipped, and then-There then-There fell the shadow of sudden death . On full fifty prisoned men; j For, the monster flywheel ran a race I With Death, till the mad crash came. I And they dragged from beneath the en gino wreck, j Poor Langan dying game! 'Twas he who had leaped to the throttle I And cut off the pulsing steam, 1 In the midst of the shattering whirling, i Which loosened each massy beam: There's gold on the officex's shoulder, j Who stands from his men apart i But. mates, Nick Langan's latest sigh Was tho throb of a golden heart! ' Somewhere in the dim hereafter, i There's a place, where far on high The Ledger of Life is slowly scanned, : By the mighty Master's eye! ; And. on its eternal pages, ; Beyond all human ken, Is the endless roll nf the iron hearts Who died for their fellow men! Tho fop and the worlding, the haughtj dude, And the leaders in Fashion's race Who gallop along after anise bags. Will never find a place; But, tho helmsman who sticks to his sinking sink-ing ship. The sentry who dies on-hls beat. And tho miner who gropeis for his helpless help-less chums. Shnll wa'.k up the Golden street! So! Honor tho humble toiler Who died at his post like a m.m! A slip of the sturdy hero stock Which thrive.?, since the world began! And, when you go home to your wives at night. To the kids, by the bright fireside. Be never ashamed of your grimy hands But. think how Nick Langan died! Richard Henry Savage. |