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Show BOYS AND GIRLS, f .r". -KUtr-ll J. LARKIN. President. ' 'a : i 4 years. Simply because and j t CONSOLATION. When Molly came home from the party tonight The party was out at nine . There, were traces of tears in the bright blue eyes That looked mournfully up to mine. .for someone had said, she whispered to me. With her face on my shoulder hid. Some one had said (there were sobs in her voice) That they didn't like something she did. So I took my lit tie eirl on my knee I am old and exceedingly wise And 1 said, "My dear, now listen to me; Just listen and dry your eyes. "This world is a difficult world, indeed. And people are. hard to suit. And the man wlio plays on the violin Is- a bore to the man with the flute. "And I myself have often thouzht How very much better 'twould be, If every one of the folks that I know ' Would only agree with me. "But since they will not, the very best way To make this world look bright Is never to' mind what people say And to do what you think is right.. Pitish Caoes, . "'"OUTTJONE BY A BOY. He looked very small for a boy of ten li As he stood before a group of men, .And asked for work with a modest air. 'I will do your errands," he said, "with i care." They laughed, and with words that shall be unsaid They joked till his face with pain grew red. "You are built," said one, "on a limited plan ' You never will make a full-grown man. Then another: "I'm sure it is not very wise To expect much work from a boy of your size." The youngster looked1 . at the bearded men . "I'm small." said he, "and I'm only ten, And you are grown up and know a lot. But I can do something that you cannot." "What's that?" they cried. "It will strike us dumb . To be cast In the shade by young Hop-o'-Aly-Thumb" "I can keep from swearing" the- boy replied. re-plied. And the' little form grew dignified. He turned, but he did not hear one say. "That's a sermon I'll not forget today." EACH BAY. Joseph came home to dinner every day at 12. His mother noticed as soon as he had finished how quick he was up and gone. One day she followed him and she saw him enter the church door. There on his knees, at the sanctuary rail before the statue of the Sacred Heart, the young man spent the middle mid-dle of the day on his knees, pleading for graces that flow from His Heart Divine. Joe knelt there, three times a day. The pious mother , knew that as long as prayer was a power in his life so would he rapidly grow in grace. Dear reader, do you know what it is to spend a little time each day in communion with the Sacred Heart? J. F. R. CHILDREN OF GOD. "Suffer the little children to come unto Me. and forbid them not; for such is the kingdom of God." How many Catholics are fulfilling this precent? Parents do almost unanimously unan-imously consent to let children, grow to manhood and womanhood before they press upon them the claims of God and Church, shirking the great responsibility respon-sibility that God has placed upon them. Oh, that parents might see their duty and privileges in this matter! Children who are tausht to love and obey their parents could also be readily taught the fear of God. the consequences of sin and the way the Church teaches to escape therefrom; and were thevej truths pressed upon young hearts' by wise and God-fearinig parents, how far-reaching far-reaching would be the results for good Catholic young people. How often are hearts pained to see mothers who pro-fe pro-fe to love their children, open the door of worldliness to them and , encourage en-courage them in disobedience and idle-1 idle-1 .... ' ' r. mess, and then be so presumptuous as wko claim, the promises in their behalf, n the face of their own disloyalty and r -eglect. Oh, that such mothers would ) irouse to the fearful responsibility that s upon them before their little ones . nre engulfed in ruin! Mothers, you ' will meet them there, your darlings arrayed before the judgment bar of .!God. Think you not but their blood 1 will be required at your hands! Faith-l Faith-l fulness on your part in behalf of your 7 children will give you many graces that i flow from the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and as a result of your prevailing i prayers you will have gained the re-; re-; ward. J. F. R. I A safiitlylife fs like a fragrant flower, In garisfrday a thing of little wort'h, Until the soul In prayer Exhales its perfume rare, A secret grace Invoking on the earth. HOW TOM CAME BACK. "And, mother, you are not to cry, or to worry about me, when I am. gone," said a tall, handsome lad, wearing the blue uniform of a soldier, as he came down the little lane from the old red farm-house, with his widowed mother hanging on his arm. "Think how proud you ought to be that you have a boy to give to the dear old country, now in the hour of her trouble, when she needs the sword of every son she has! And think how proud, hov much prouder you will be one day yet, When you see me coming through the little gate and up the green lane, with the stars on my shoulder, mother, and a sword of honor by my side! Nothing less than a colonel will your boy be. dear mother, moth-er, when you get him back again!" "When! when!" the mother's sad heart kept saying: but she gave no utterance ut-terance to the words. She kissed him and bade him go, as many another mother dtd in that terrible hour of the r"V.n's agony. ih went home and closed her doors (h the world, and wept her very sit out for her soldier boy. Sd in the next house, at the foot of vlane, (Jown behind the hill, a young i with blue eyes and brown hair, $a face like an apple blossom in A! sat weeping, too, for the soldier Jutaken. her heart with him as he 0 tied so gallantly away. (J)hall do my duty like a man, my () Jenny," he said to her on the A Vtg before he left. "And in our A lone has a chance to rise to the Y pighest rank. You'll see me come , with the golden stars upon my shoulders, and you shall be an officer's wife, Jenny, though you are only a private's lady love now. And I shall have ruoney then, you know. And we will baild . another house here in the lane for you and I, close to your home and to my own, and here we shall live and love each other ror many a nappy year, I hope." These were the words poor Jenny had to remember as she wept by herself her-self after the soldiers had marched so gayly frrn the town.- She watched him, lovingly and proudly, though thv war,' wherever his regiment, "the fighting fight-ing Twenty-seventh," was ordered to go. And at last there came an awful battle and Ihe rebels wese triumphant and the fighting Twenty-seventh and many another gallant corps were "cut to pieces.'' and Tom bright, handsome, gallant Tom oh! where was he? They never heard, they never knew, till Andersonville gave up its living dead. Among the names of those rescued prisoners Jenny and her adopted mother saw but. one. Tom was -alive Tom was coming home once more. And on the evening appointed "for his arrival they waited together, trembling trem-bling and hopeful, .at the farm-house gate, as he had asked them to do when he went away. Would he come running up the green slope like the gay, light-hearted boy of old? Or would he walk more slowly, as became a soldier and an officer, of-ficer, with the stars upon his shoulder and the sword of honor at his sde: yet their own , dear gallant Tom, in spite of all the glory, just as he was of old? While they discussed the question between be-tween their smiles and tears they saw a crowd of neighbors coming slowly up the lane. Their faces were grave and sad and stern, and , they seemed to be carrying something in their midst. As they neared the. gate every man took off his hat, and four of their number bore a rude litter forward, and laid it down at the widow's feet. What was it? Who was it? That wasted, haggard figure, with the sharp bones almost sticking through the shriveled skin; with the shadowy face, and the great, mournful, hollow eyes; and the skeleton hand; and the torn private's uniform, all ragged and a mass of dust and dirt! "Mother! Jenny! Thank God I die at home!" said the thin, piping voice. Then at last they knew him! And with wild cries and tears and prayers, they threw themselves down beside him Just as he held up his trembling, wasted hands to them and died! Such was the dream! Such the fulfillment! ful-fillment! . And this was but one out of many! A SHORT LONELY JOURNEY.. "If I didn't like home any better than you seem to, I'd go away, so I would." Nellie Harding was washing dishes, and Walter was complaining, as usuai, about the woodbox, which he declared was always empty. i "Well. I guess you'd fuss if you had I to cart as much wood as I do, and tend j to the hens, and go as. many errands and pick all the berries for the rest of I the folks to eat, and oh! everything- else." The scowl on his face deepened I till one could see nothing else. "Why don't you go away, then, whera f you won't have to do it?" "Perhaps you imagine I haven'c i thought of that, but I have, and I am I going. I shan't be here much longer." "Yes, I think I see you going. Who eats more'that half of every blueberry pie that mamma makes? Who has three, out of every dozen eggs the hens lay? Who has one box out of every ten of the-strawberries? the-strawberries? Yes, I would go, if I were' in your place, but you won't, I know." "Well, you'll see: you just wait." and with a decided shake of his curly head" he went out after another armfull of wood. He would take his money and buy some hens, and then he could have the whole dozen Instead of a paltry three: he would dig a place on the further fur-ther side of the hill, where no one could see, and plant some strawcerry vines, the whole crop of which should be his; he would never come back till he could bring a pocketful of money. How hate- ful Nellie was, but then she was only a girl, and how could she know what a hard time boys had. He guessed she'd be sorry some morning when he didn't come to breakfast, and he couldn't be found anywhere. After thinking it over all day, Walter decided to go that very night, and so show Nellie that he did mean just what he said. He went to his drawer and took out a clean collar, because mamma, always liked him to be neat on Sunday, and of course he should do as mamma ; liked, even if he was away from home; then he took the new silk handkerchief Nellie had given hiro on Christmas, his purse with nearly a dollar in it. and his bank book. What else should he take? There was his ball and checker board, his game of Halma and letters. Finally he thought hie ball would be of more use than the games, as there would be no one to play with him-. Into a square pasteboard box he packed them, tied it up securely and crept downstairs. As he went by the wood-box he noticedthat it was nearly empty. He must fill it or I mamma would be hindered in the morn- t ing if he was not on hand. He laid down his parcel and carefully unlocked the side door, brought in from the pile across the yard armfuls. of sticks, de- ? positing them quietly ire the box till it ; I was full, then again took up the bundle j 1 and started off down the roat toward ( f the bis woods. j ! "John. John, who's in the kitchen?" : j f was the startled) whimper of Mrs. ' Harding. ' r f "I've been listening, ana I think WaU 1 ter'si filling the wood box." ' "Then he's going away tonight; ha said this morning he wouldn't stay; he's filling the wood box before he leaves. We mustn't let him go. I'll get up and talk with him " "Oh, I guess not: he'll go back to bed again. He probably thought he would rather fill it ToTught than get up early in the morning." But Walter didn't go back upstairs, and when they heard tho outer door close Mr. Harding dressed and followed him. He kept a little way behind and saw him take the road to the village. When Walter reached the edge of the woods where the brook goes rippling over the mossy stones, he stopped to listen, and sat down on a big white stone. Only a few days before mamma had read an old legend about the forest, for-est, and told how the whispering f the trees was made by angels; then she had brought out the Bible and read about the singing among the trees of Lebanon. Leban-on. He had heard the wind x these trees many times, but tonight it sounded sound-ed strangely: he wondered if there were angels about, and what they would think of his going away without telling tell-ing mamma. He wouldn't have mamma to put on his clean collar for him on Sunday if he. went away It was so f till and lonesome here, the brook didn't i seem half so noisy as when the sun shone, there must be a great many I angles to make such a rustling, sup- I pose he hastily snatched the box be- I side him and started up the hill toward f home, never seeing the tall figure that slipped in the door just ahead of him. never hearing the footsteps that went out to bolt the door which hehad left ' unfastened in his haste. Up the sta'ra he ran, dropped hia bundle on the bureau, bu-reau, shook off his clothes and sorang under the quilts, glad to get away fr-om. ; that awful whispering. Sleep comes quickly to a healthy boy, and when the moon looked in she saw eyes shut tight, and perhaps even heard a mild snore. Walter slept late and nevey undid that box. but mamma found it and put all its contents back in place, with a full heart as she realized that her boy did love his home after ail. Mrs. N. A. M. Roe in the Weekly Bouquet. AN IRISH VICT03Y. Alderman Scanlon It hurts me pride to think the Shamrock could not win even one heat in the yacht race. Asphalt Murphy Oh, phats the difference, dif-ference, the Irish win the race anyway. Scanlon How do you make that out. Murphy? Murphy Who owns the Columbia? Scanlon The United States s-h-u-r-e. Murphy Who owns the United States? I Scanlon The Oh, my! Murphy ( yez air a great man. |
