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Show '..Our Boys-and irl$ ''' I Edited by Aunt Busy. rit?" I 'J Ilis kparlmcnt is conducted solely in the in- j Ure 0r- j icts of our girl and boy readers. j r j Aunt Busy is glad to hear any time from the hei' : I pieces and nephews who read this page, and to give I them all the advice and help in her power. 'a"i I Write on one side of the paper only. L Ule I I o not have letters too long. rai't Original ttorics and verses will be gladly rc- a-'nl i ccived and carefully edited. "Our J The manuscripts of contributions not accepted I -, ill be returned, s aii.l I Address all letters to Aunt Busy, Intcrmountain I Cutbolic, Salt Lake City. is ;i ; I This department is conducted solely in the inter- A mt I I ns "f our girl and boy readers, little f I Aunt l?ufv is glad to hear any time from the iniircs and nephews who' read this page, and to give tlirm all the advice and help in her power. Write on one side of the paper only, e hjg 1 lo not have letters too Ions. .' I original stories and verses will be gladly received aliau I iid carefully edited. t'Ugh j j The manuscrips of contributions not accepted will i: I 1,0 returned. tiio I I Address all letters to Aunt Busy, Intcrmountain ul ii- j j OiHioIic, Salt Lake City. I " HOME AGAIN. I I r.ct you don't know where I've been iainT I I I've been off down on a farm! tj, ' I I Look here, where I've burnt the skin and 1 f t More'n half way up my arm: th I j ;' 1 could had a teeny pig -it,.,. "JV bring home, but ma said no, i It would get too awful big tioi, I AVhen it onct begun to grow. not . ot,. j. I An I saw "cm makin' hay Li..,n 1 "With a cutter ton feet wide ; I When I wanted, all the daring dar-ing J I could sit on top an' ride: na- I An onct. ". the cutter stick the ' j Cut a rabbit right in two the I lIe went "squeak, squeak:" like that, quick of I An' you ought to seen him whew! in j Farmers have no groe'ry store, to I ut they get their eggs in mows, ng f An' they don't need milkmen, for I They squeeze milk straight out of cows! 11- i An' my uncle Uncle Jed or. jj Onct when I was standin' by I "Open up your mouth:" he said hy ' j But he squirted in m yeye! of I e- I I went round in overalls S- I An' had pie for breakfas' gee! : I An' rang the bell that calls Ti I J In for dinner an' for tea. , 1- 1 An' the hired girl, she ate i I j At the table 'long with us J5. ' I Country girls aren't s'posed to wait, A i I So ma didn't raise a fuss. : f I I washed near the back-stoop pump 1 In a basin with the rest, , f An' nobody tried to jump 1 ' n us "hen we splashed or messed. I she says that I'm a sight 1 1 'Cause I got so black ah, dear, f I'rn afraid I'll get all white r 'Fore I go again next vear. : f ! . : ; ! ATJNT BUSY HAS HER SAT. i I Pear :ieces and Xcphvws: j 1 Aunt Busy does not want to '"p reach,"' because ! .vou already know her opinion of 'preaching" too I I l.'.u- li. ut she wants to write a little "reminder"' J ; 11 t'1 J'5'r dear young friend. (( ' 'v- There are many rules for conduct in the school I ' r" that you are expected to follow, and Aunt X thinks tlie first rule should be this: Tupilss . ju expected to always say a pleasant "Good morn- I ins' to their teachers." Xow, Aunt Busy feels ' I very sure that all the children follow this .custom; I f but iii case some should forget, she thinks it well I j 10 write a few words on the subject. ' Nothing j 4 starts the day so peacefully and happily as a cheer- tul salutation in the morning. Xo matter how ji many memories of the troubles of the previous day I , romain in the mind, even 'if the coming day's les-f les-f sons are not yet fully understood or prepared, do I I "'''' a bright, cheery "Good morning," and see how I Jnuch brighter life will seem. Aunt Busy once knew a dear little boy whose ! sunshiny disposition won the friendship and love "f all who knew him. One of his best traits of I I character was to have a cheery word of greeting jf"i- anyone he knew. While spending his summer : va.-auon in the canyons five years ago he was acci- I (ientaily t-liot, and lingered in great suffering for j ri;my days. But through the many hours of pain I 'h' sweetness of his sunny nature never left him. I l-.arly one bright summer morning he went to J nt forever. A few minutes before he died the I u.M'tor, on entering ihc room, received from the : I liitl lad a cheeiy- "Good morning," and his last ; words to his father were, "Good morning, papa." (j Dear, brave little man! Aunt Busy likes to I ihat the baby angels met the sunny-faced boy I I n? ,nc heavenly gates and all went together, a happy f Unu, to the presence of GcmI and Jlis tender I j .Moihrr to say "Good morning." Lovingly, dear ; I ' hildrcii, your devoted AUXT BUSY. j j LETTEES AND ANSWERS, f Salt Lake City, Sept. I Dear Aunt Busy I mu.t say good-bye for a j j " '"f'w wcks now, l'ccause school starts next week I j :nd I expect to be busy, but not too busy to write J lu ii 1o you, dear Auntie. Your loving niece, I FLORJiXt'E HAXLKY. I Aunt Busy hopes you will have a very suceoss- I tul year, Florence, in school. Aunt Busy will be j j-lf-ascd t ohear of your progress; so do not neglect V M to Mfite. ' U ' 1 Denver, Colo., Aug. CO. I Dear Aunt Busy Wc jarc going to take The Intcrmountain Catholic again. We took it for a long time and stopped it just to take another paper, !but the other paper was no good. Mamma says it never had any nice reading like your paper; and, worst of all, there was h,t Aunt Busy. Good-bye, I 'car ArJtIr Susy. Your loving nephew. GEORGE PEVLIX. r. Aunt Bussy hopes you will take The Inter- '.i mountain Catholic again, George. She appreciates the kind opinion of your dear mother and your I wn bright self very highly. Aunt Busy is a very bappy old lady to have the dear children write her I -itch kindly letters. ! Salt Lake, Sept: 3. ;' Dear Aunt Busy Hurrah for another school s year! T am just glad ihat school begins next week, and I intend to do fine this year. Your loving ; ii Phew, 1IABKY SULL1VAX. Aunt Bussy earnestly hopes 1hat all the dear II Jirphows feel like Harry Sullivan over the begin-g begin-g hing of school. It is only, with .this fooling of honest ambition that the fchool days will prove i profitable. I Salt Lake City, Sept. 4. I Dear Aunt Busy I am one that would like to I be one of your nieces, I am 9 years old. I came a from Idaho last fall. I read The Intcrmountain i Catholic and I think that you must be a nice lady J I the wav vou talk to the boys and girls, .j. If . ;; :..T ALICE EXXIS. ; , j 1 Indeed, right glad is Aunt Buy to enroll little Alice in her rosary of nieces. Idaho is a great state, with pretty towns in the valleys, lofty hills and lovely streams. But Salt Lake is the Queen City among all these hills and valleys, and a little girl like Alice will find companions so cheerful that she will never get lonesome for her Idaho home. THE KING AND THE GEESE. There was once upon a time a king who wandered wan-dered away from his courtiers into his garden,and, taking a book from his pocket, straightway fell asleep. . On waking, he determined to drive away further drowsiness by taking a walk. lie came to a sunny meadow, barred with long shadows of trees, which sloped down to a large pond. When he came to the margin of the pond he remembered that he had left his book behind. He would be sorry to lose the book, but he did not wish to go back after it, so he looked around for someone some-one to send. He presently spied a tall,. lank, ignorant ig-norant looking boy, taking care of a flock of gecse. He called the boy to him. 4On a bench under a great ash in the park you will find a book. Go and bring it to me, and I will give you a florin." The boy did not knQw the king. But he knew that strolling people were not apt to offer florins for slight services. ''Do you take me for a fool i" asked he. ''What makes you think 1 am joking f" asked the king. "Because money does not come so easy as that. You must be one of the gentlemen from the castle." "Well, what of that I Here is the florin. Go for the book." The boy's eyes sparkled. The money was almost as much as he received for taking care of the flock of geese for a,scason. Yet he hesitated. "Well!" said the king. "Why don't you goi" The boy took off his hat and rubbed the side of his head. "I would if I cou!4: but the geese." "You little dolt! I will take care of the geese." ! "You!" exclaimed the boy. "You do not look j as though you knew enough. If they fly through the fields while I am gone I shall have the damage to -pay, and may lose my place, and then 1 would be ruined entirely. You sec that one with a black head? It is a sly bird, and will be sure to lead the flock astray while I am gone" The king smiled. "1 know how to manage men, and I think I can manage a goose." He bade the boy go -at once. The latter hesitated, hesi-tated, but finally consented, giving the king. a whip to crack in case the geese should begin to disperse. But the winged subjects of the monarch soon perceived that their master was gone, and began to cackle and announce the news to each other most jubilantly. The black-headed bird began to march and countermarch, and the whole flock, under his generalship, scattered, each separating from the. other and forming a line, which grew longer and lonsrer. The king issued his commands in a loud voice and tried to crack the whip, but all his efforts ef-forts went for nothing. The geese observed the orders of the gander. The king ran hither and thither, but the line of geese only grew longer and more diverse. "Shoo!" said the king. It was the only goose language he knew. "Honk!" said the 'gander, and the gecse obeyed the mysterious command, and made their line longer and longer. At. last the "black-headed bird" gave a triumphant triumph-ant "Honk! Honk!" and the whole column of geese rose into the air and flew into the fields. The king, bathed in perspiration, sat down in great vexation to find that his royal authority was of so little account in the goose kingdom. Presently the boy returned and saw what had happened. He was in great terror and distress. "Did I not tell you that you did not know enough to take care of geese i Xow you must help me to find them again." The king consented, and late in the day the flock , was gathered. 'I'll never go away again," said the boy, "not for the king himself." . The king returned to the castle quiet and thoughtful. It was easier, after all, he reflected, to manage a kingdom thau to outgeneral an old gander a thought which was hardly flattering to the king. t FRIENDS OF THE DAG. Four boys, averaging about 10 years of age, lately trudged into the ofRce of the city treasurer and tax collector, leading with them a timid canine a black and white water spaniel. One of the boys, who acted as spokesman, raised himself on tip toe, looked over the counter and asked: , "Please, mister, is there where you get dog licenses V "Yes, my lad," was the reply. "Well, you see, it's this way we want a license li-cense tag for this dog. He ain't got no home, and we've adopted him. We've named him Jack." Upon inquiry it was learned that the dog had been wandering around in the neighborhood for the , past two weeks, and that the poundman had made I several unsuccessful attempts to catch the name- ; less canine, but the boys with whom the animal had made friends could handle him at will. Finally Ihey took pity upon Jack because of the scares the poundman gave him, and raised $..r0 among the boys of the neighborhood with which to buy a license li-cense tag for the canine. "THANK YOU." Little Jack was only 1 years old and a great pet of his" Aunt Butli on account of his sweet, affectionate affection-ate ways. ' One day his cousin, a boy of 10. set Jack to work for him. He told him to pull up some weeds in the field while he finished his story. Little Jack worked away until his lingers 'were sore and his face was very hot. When at length he returned re-turned to the house his aunt said to him: "Jackie, what have you been doing ?" The tears came into his eyes and his lips quivered, quiv-ered, and for a moment he did not speak. Then he said: "I've been kind to Cousin Frank. I worked drefHy hard for him and he never said 'Thank you' to me." Toor little Jackie! J felt sorry for him. It was hard lines not to have a word of thanks after all his hard work. But that night when I put him in his little cot he said to me: "Aunty, this morning morn-ing I was sony that I pulled the weeds, but now I'm not sorry." "How is that?" I ffsked. "Has Cousin Frarnk thanked you?" 'Xo, he hasn't; but inside of me I have a good feeling. It always comes when I've been kind to anyone; and do you know, I've found out' what it is ?" "What is it, darling?" I asked. Throwing his arms around my neck, he whispered: whis-pered: "It's GoS's thank you." DIFFERENT WAYS OF LYING. There are a thousand ways of lying, but all lead to the same end, says Success. It does not matter whether j-ou wear lies, tell lies, act lies or live lies your character is ruined all the same. There is no more demoralizing influence in modern life than the . unnatural straining to seem other than we are. Xothing else so quickly lowers self-respect, takes the fine edge ofj honor and blrmts the conscience as the sense of being a sham, .a gilded fraud or an unreality. It cheapens standards,, stand-ards,, lowers ideals; sa'p9 ambition and takes the spring and joy out of living. Xo man can make the most and the best of himself until he is absolutely abso-lutely honest with his own soul and unfalteringly true to his highest ideals, and this is impossible while he is a living lie. A BUDGET OF MAXIMS. Bather than say nothing, men arc eintent to speak ill of themselves. . A proud man can never be a loser ; no, not even when he renounces his pride. It is much less for a man's honor to distrust his friends than be deceived by them. Few people have the wisdom to like reproofs that would do them good better than praises that do them hurt. It is with true love, as with ghosts and apparitions, appari-tions, a thing that everybody talks of-and -scarce anybody hath seen. v. The most disintercste dlove is, after all,. but. a kind of bargain in which the dear love of our own selves always proposes -to be the gainer some way or other. llochefoucauld. |