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Show lr $r; .V -:- r--' Wjtfdby Aunt Busy, r-ymmm . &im$L Mitel I DIRECTIONS FOR LETTER WRITING. WRIT-ING. Write on nric side of paper only. 1 imi have lot toy? too long. Aldrcs. ;?ii Inters to "Aunt Busy," . liHormourtHin Catholic. H : 1 ; i Lake Citv. Ftb. S. lfH). J)i'dr Aunt Busy: I am n liiili' jrirl m!v six years old, but j .will print a lit 1 1 - !i ;tr to you. My mamma rends your nicV little stories for me. Vou must he a old auntie. arc you. Aunt Busy? Is vour h.ur KtayV (lo.Kl-liyo. Much, love from in y Kit ten and me. NKLL1K CKOSBY. t?t. IVi rick's School, Butte Citv. Mont.. Kel). j :. J if Aunt Busy: This is l.-tter-writinK Jay, so I will write u a ri r. I study very hard in selmcd. AVe have a I -ire" I'lass ro.-m. V study eattohism. l idii'LT. sicllin- ami a fit hmci ie. W e ko to i him-h every Sunday. I hope y,,;i ;it-e wii. i will -not write anv more ! ih;."? time. our lovine neu-o. f- i-ikLkn varulev. Salt Bake Citv, Feb. 10 If mi. j L- ir Aunt- Busv: I !nust writ- and tell you how good ir.inta Clans w;.s me. lie broupht me . ;l niusie b..x and a doll arid two doil hats and lots of nice 'things. Jle brought me v-rythins:-lut my piano, hut papa savs 1 HiHt he will brins me that. 1 love mv p.ipa very much ati'l my mamma. anl mv hltlf biv.ther. ;ooJ-bye. dear Aunt Busv j our loving- neiec. KATHKII1XK MURPJIV. 1HE LITTLE WORKEBS. AVc'rc a band of little workers. Bfarinsr just tht nice-sf thine?, And we feci the satisfaction That a sense of knowieiipe brings.. Th 'tscrh our . ITorts may be feeble, Our success we know is sure, Ft very day we're adding New lessons to our store. Tlif busy worid is needing- I'aithr'ul workers, brave and true; Strong-, willing hurts to labor. And levins service, too. Cnr work to make it better Will show in years to come. "W'lu.n we hc!p to lift the burdens, Of weary one? at home. j I ' i And so with hearts iVer'lowing- With Rratittid" ;ind praise. "Y- iiiess the fri'.'iuJs who lead us Alone the.-e h;ititiy was; . Aod .piadly will we follow. Kvcr striving- for the ripht. ir; from ianorance and i;.rkncss, Into knowh-ipe and ti:c liglit. THKEZ ANGELS. Tliey say this life is barren, drear and eold, KT-r the Fame sad song was sunp of old, liver the same lonp v.eary tale is told. And to our l:ts is held the eup of strife, And yet a l.ttle lovt can swci'.en life. They sa y our ha mis may prasp but jovs 5-;roye:l. "i'ouiii hath but Urc-am, and ae an ach-ir.tr ach-ir.tr v.ik!. M'hose Ih n4 Sm fruit, lonp. lonp ago has cloyed. "Whose uimH with wild, tempestuous s;orm.- is rife And yet a little hope can briphten life. j They s;;y we flinp ourselves in wild 3e- I spair j Amidst the -broken treasures scattered1 there, j Where all is wrecked, where all once j promised fair; ' And stab ourselves with sorrow's two- ! eilp.d knife. I And yet a litil-,- patience strenpthens life, j Is jt then true, this tale of bittX'r pricf, i Of mortal anpuish lin.iinp no relief? Bo! midst the- winter shines the laurel's j leaf; Thre" impels share the lot of human striie. Three anpeis plorify the path of life Lovo. Hope and Patience cheer us on our way. vc. Hope and Patience form our spirit's stay. Bove. Hope and I'atience watch us day by day, And bid the desert bloom with beauty 1 vernal. Until th '2 earthly fades in the eternal. AN EVENING GUEST. An angel came at close of day From -places fair and far. His parinents trailinp dim and gray A'a.nst the eveninp star. As sa-pphire stotie his sandals shone Frorn the troadinp of the skies. ; And peac-e ;md love to fullness grown, J . Were in his kindly ties. I .His cominp broupht the cattle home From reedy pools to rest: : A curlew skimminp o'er the foam ' Jhed landward to her nest. j Bv brook and h !1 ech cup and bell J Shut softly in the damp. ! Save where s'n:e primi'se sentinel I Jlunp out his ycjiow lamp. j Fonn little children, worn with play. Were tucked away and blessed. Hands hard at wrk the livelong- day Dropped heavily to rest. Then home a pain with plad content Th" sa'hic stranper sped. l""r 'twas an anaej heaven sent To put the world to hod. HIS EEST GIRL. Not a word was missed in siiellinp. Nor was broken any rule. So Ben's step was with the music Marehinp proudly out of school. O'er th-side he bounded madly With a hurrah and a. shout; An 1 the boys and pirls kept asking: "What on turi'h is Ben about?'' ,S" in the siiop below the corner, .Soon Ben stopped and looked them o'er Ail those vatentinos just opened While the pirls oeped in the door. And he whispered to 1he shopman. With his heart all in a whirl "I must have the best in stock, sir, 'Tis to semi to my best pirB" Was it bine-eyed A sties Oumminps? Could it be black-eved Bess. Or. perhaps, 'twas Kitty Wilier? No. the shopman could not puess. Soon Ben chose one. 'twas so pretty, O'liic unlike any other; Then lie whispered to the shopman "Mv best pirl is my mother!" "'Sirls. thejic days arc very flighty. Very friendly, then so cool. And .lust beeause a fellow doesn't Always walk by plumb and rule. Bar the mothers understand us; Mine's the one that I tie to. New I'm off; when mother pets this. How I wonder what she'll Bo'" TH BALANCE OF POWER. From the sitting- room Mrs. Harding j CoulJ e the etair-lancing.. Blanche came down and flopped there to but-j but-j ton her gloves. Mrs. Harding exoer- lencod: a little thrill of str.inpens3i innd quick admiration as i-he looked at i her Blanche had gro.vn up sr.- oudden- ly and was so unexpectedly pretty. She j never had been a prettv little girl. Her i mother had always icgrct.'ed it; but I v.ow s!:e va dainty, , cslender and of good height, with an aristocratic little head soft dark eye, and she carried herself Wlth a inaUi)Vi girlish djgnity , Wi'? ''Jte impesing at times. The cirl came down the stairs and pau;:ed at the door. "Have vo't concluded con-cluded that I am to have that antique t'dk wa-ist?" she asked with a emilo. J Don t rou think I reallv need it?" Mrs. Harding hesitated a little. "I know, Blanche de.Tr. it would he very pretty, but it is so expensive; and I do need a .ftreet suit badly mvself; getting get-ting thorn both in cut of the question. I thougnt if you could got along'' A blank look over-spread , Blanche's face, and her mother haste-red to add, "I don't know, though; you ould i:?e the waifit a. great deal, and pecans I t can mal'e this dross do thi.s winter." Bktnehe's trained tyi:i took in the! rather redy appearance cf the cown referred to. "It is shabby; but "then mamma rc-a'.lv floe.M net go anv where I to caeak of," s.he thought, "juvt to I l '1' ket. or tome thing of that kind, and j it eioes- very well for that," ?o she was siknt to the appeal in her mother's ! voice. ' "After all. I don't know but it looks very well." Mm. Harding continued after a short pause. "I suopocie- vou would hke that waist for Relle Brad-ley'. Brad-ley'. party next week? It certainly would be very pretty." "Oh, it doesn't matter." Blanche responded re-sponded in a -vniee that implied that it mattered a jroc.'d deal. "Yes, it does, dear. Mamma like." to see her little girl look as sweet e.-; any of them. co I think we will decide to get it. I will go down with vou this afternoon and we will choose it." Again Blanche's face looked rather blank. "But I have chosen, mantima, if I can have it at all. I wouldn't care for anything but that lovelv blue effect, ef-fect, and if I were you I would not tire mv.t.f p-nino- r!f.,.-Ti T. : ...-.. r,.,.,f, u'Jiiii. it is u llliCi'fM.'dl V, j and it i.i not a very pleasant afternoon. You are thedeatect darling in all the world, anyway." Jjcttowing a rapturous ki.ov on her nvther, then, with a final aniustinent cf the soft curls under her veil, she ran lightly down the .teps. , Her t: es e-parkled as she walked along. V,rhat a dream the wast would j be; none of the other girls would have . anything half so pi'ettv. She would j take it up to Mits. Sommers immediate-I immediate-I ly. j A vair of horses slopped at the curb with a click, and turning around , Blanche saw Mrs1. Edmonds smiling from her carriage. "If you are going down town, won't you ride with me?" j j she eskfc .1. The footman opened the door, and Blanche sank into the eioft cushions j with a sigh of ples.sure. Mrs. Ed mends' J attentions wre a delight to all the i girls: t he resided in Hilton only a few . months cf the year. Her footman and coachman, her lesidonce in New York, J and an cceaisicnal trip to Europe threw ; a fasr?iivatin: glamor over all her ac- ' l-tiore and words. She was the embodiment embodi-ment ef luxury, and the great world to all the eager, impressionable young people. Mrs. Edmonds chatted pleasantly with the girl, noting with pleasure her pretty Hushed face. Suddenly the i t-miles disd out of it, and sue drew herself up with a cold little bow. Mrs. ' Edmonc'is following the direction of! hT-r oyes, saw a weman and child com- I ing down the steps of the adiacent j i house. They were chatting gaily to-j to-j gother in the most evident enio:3nt. , Both were Quite dazzling in feathers, I gay colors and beaded trimminea Blanche turned to Mrs. Edmonds. "May Bruce and her mother," she explained. ex-plained. "They are so loud and sihowy and coarse, I sometimes feel almost ashamed to sneAk to them." "Yee, I know," responded Mrs. Ed-mcn. Ed-mcn. softly, "but to me they are the j plear. intent s'ght in Hiltcn." I Blanche gazed at her in open-mouth- cd amazement. "I admit," she continued, "their taste and manners are not above criticism, ! I but their relations with each either are I ; .something beautiful. You always see I ! them together. They seem to- enjoy j each other so much, and May has a ! pride in her mother that is good to ! see. At heart I know she must be sweet, and pure, and true. Her being a barbarian in the matter of color does net leally matter so much. Se?ing them, I think more than ever how fortunate for-tunate a woman is to have a daughter." Blanche sat fairly stunned. "Admire May Bruce? Of course, she herself wag fond and proud of her mother. Wasn't any girl?" Then she blushed a little to herself. "I don't know that I ever thought of them in that way," she said deprecatingly. "I suppose they are nice." Jira Edmonds smiled. "When society so-ciety does not compel a girl to recognize recog-nize her mother, she is very apt to forget for-get her. and when the consideration is so spontaneous and natural as in this case, I agree with you that 'it is nice." mere is noimng so weet to me as a fresh, pretty young girl, but 1 sometimes some-times think there is nothing sn sweet to" the girl, either. Unless they are very insisting, she seems to consider the life of the older people about her jivod out and uninteresting. She argues ar-gues that, they do not care for the little lit-tle pleasures of life She hi cruel, but 1 j she does not mean it. There, dear, I did nrt mean to le harsh. I am sure you do not descrv.e it. When anything occurst to me. I am apt to run on. on general principle:. Oh. you have to get out at Brown & King's, do you? Come and see me, dear you and your mother. moth-er. I am always delighted to have you." Blanche went slowly into the store. The) antique silks were draped in the window. Then- certainly were pretty enough to tempt anyonei That blue made one think of moonlight and frost ! and all sorts of enchanting things. "Of course she was fond of her mother; but then her mother never really cared to go anywhere truly, she didn't, so how-could how-could they go together? This afternoon? after-noon? Oh. well, she did not know-when know-when she had mentiojd going down town before." She stood looking into the window a long time, but she did not see the silks. A dozen different expressions flitted 1 over her face. Then sire gave her shoulders shoul-ders a shrug and went briskly into tho store. When she reached home that evening even-ing she picked up a squaro envelope lying on the' hall table. "Mrs. Harding and daughter." she read. "Oh, a reception re-ception at Mrs. Sterling's." 'Are you going, mamma?' she called, as Mrs. Harding came into the hall. "I hardly know. dear. I don't feel quite suitable. I care very little about it, anyway. Did you get the waist?" "Yes,; I took it up to Mrs. Sommers. I wish you would go down with me tomorrow to-morrow and see that it fits all right. Do you care "much about the reception?" recep-tion?" she asked a little anxiously. "No, I rually don't think I do. It seems quite an effort to 20 out when one is in the habit of staying at home, and besides " sihe checked herself and finished, "I hope your waist will be pretty." Blanche looked at her mother and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Oh, I guess it will bo all right," she said c-y-elesHly, and with apparent uncon- i' i, and went upstairs. Surely you are not going to wear noon?" Mrs. Harding exclaimed as Blanche came down stairt: the next day. "It looks asi well as yours, doesn't it?'-' Blanche inquired. There was a curious expression on Mrs. Harding's face us. they started down the street. I wish we could have gone; in the morning," she remarked after a brief silence. Mrs. Sommers came bustling into the reception room. "Yes, Mrs. Harding, your dress is nearly ready to try on. So fortunate I had your measure. I thought you would want it for Mrs. Sterling's reception, so I hurried a lit- j tic. It's a beautiful shade of green so I becoming. Just step into the next I room. It will be re:, ly in a moment." "Blanche, what does Mrs. Sommers mean?" Mrs. Harding asked as the dressmaker left the room. "She must be wild, talking about me a green die?;;. I haven't, ordered anything. Where is your silk waist? Y'ou told me you brought it up." "Oh, no. mamma; I said 'the waisK, not the siik waist. As for it, I suppose it is at Brown & King's. See here, mamma.'" Blanche spoke ranidlv. and although her face was bright with cmiles, he:r eyes were suspiciously moist "when things get so bad vour I daughter is obliged to put on her ofdest t gown so as not to be ashamed to go down town with you, it is time something some-thing was done. I know you will like the dress; papa said it just suited you, and honestly, mamma. I didn't mean to be so selfiah. I just didn't think." There was more than a suspicion of moisture in the bright eyes now. As for Mrs. Harding, she went hastily into the sitting room and shut the door just in time to avoid making a" spectacle of j herself before Mrs. Sommers. Yv"hen Mrs. Edmonds returned to Hil- I ton seA eral months later, she met very I frequently a. pretty, rosy litttle woman, i and a slender, bright girl, who seemed to take a good deal of interest in each ! other's, societv. "The balance of power hasvadjusted itseJf," she thought, and smiled know- I ingly. J Life seemed a finer thing to Blanche, too; while deep down in her heart, Mrs. I j Harding realized that Providence and j her girl's own sweet nature had saved her from. a terrible mistake. Selected. |