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Show h , ..our Boys and rls.. i7 Edited by Aunt Busy. lf- ! Vrite on one side of ihc paper only. n I o not have letters too lon. a ! Original stories and verses will be gladly re- :rr 1 ived and carefully edited. , The manuscripts of contributions iiol accepted j I rill be returned. " Address all letters to Aunt Busy, lntermouutain ll3 1 CMhoIic, Suit Lake City. 1 I n- 'ZZSZ GRANDMOTHER. . i j have a suuny corner in my home, ' I (),1C. corner where the shadows nover euine: is j-oi- whn the glowing- sun outside has set I (jrandrnothcr'a sunshine lights the. corner up. i r- I jlor features have the radiance of l.ve; , I i jl.r voice tlio peaceful cadence of the dove;. 1 (.-r silver hair a crown of gljry mines, lv I Her winning way around all Lea.-ts entwines. ' j The very wrinkles on her placid face I Snti hut to add a beautifying fcra'e, . I ,nd to enhance her beauty as forsooth d f it,y dimples on the fair, plump cheek of youth. 0 I I I $ The children know grandmother's corner well, a j .nd run to her their troubles all to tell. 1 i They're sure' to find their clouds all scattered quite, And hearts filled up again with sunshine bright. ; s clouds e'er dim grandmother's corner bright, yr hhe has learned full well the source of light, I ' Site draws in cheerful patience her supply, j ? And scatters it to every passer-by. i TVar grandmother! would every home and heart ' lad such a bJetising in its as thou art. , i.ong be thy life, and lighter still thy days, I'niil n thee shall beam Heaven's perfect rapst j AUNT BUSY HAS HER SAY. I;r Nieces and Nephews: Aunt Busy is anxiously anxious-ly waiting to hear about the vacation days, but perhaps per-haps 1 he time is a little early. She hopes that the car children will not quite forget her during the j coming summer days. How she would like to read .nine descriptions of the lovely summer time! She ; ha- so many talented little correspondents who are alilc to write most interesting letters. Why do they i nnt take up this subject Aunt Busy will gladly five a prize to the one who writes the best letter about the summer season or about some pleasure r trip taken during vacation. Why does not some dear girl or boy write a story I fur Aunt Busy's department i I Last week Aunt Busy published a pretty story I Ti riilen by a lovely young girl a particular friend j .f Iters. The young girls's name is Carrie Crad- dock; she is a little southern lasie with the softest 1 voice and the m st perfect manners; she might be. considered a little old-fashioned in some ways, hut she is all the more attractive because her every ) action is lhat of I Some day Aui.i - will write a story, too, and take for the loc'lrv character her little friend. : Aunt Busy will no j-leased to receive stories from ': her correspondem,- Kv she knows that many dear f -hildreu write to kr who have decided "talent, so J dear girls and boys, hurry during the! lovely suni- 1 iner days to write to AUNT BUSY, MEMBER. 1 'Member, awful long .ago "Most a trillion weeks or so How we tried to run away, I An' was gone for "most a day? i Tour pa found us bofe an' nen Asked if we'd be bad again An' we premised, by-um-by, Do you 'member? So d I. ' . 'Member when I tried to crawl f i Frough vat hole beneaf your wall. An" I stuck, becuz my head i "Whs too big? Your muvver said, i . "When she came to pull me frough 1 S'pTised you didn't try it, too, v An' you did it, by-um-by. . n 'Member? Do yuh? So d' I. 'Member when your muvver said I 'At she wisht I'd run an' do I ve mischief in my head I I at once, an' get it frough? ' . S'pose we did. why, maybe ven AVe could do it all again! i Guess we could if we should try ! Will y", sometime? Soil I. Harper's. Tc - LETTERS AND ANSWERS. St. Joseph's School, Ogden, Utah, May 23, 1994, Bear Aunt Busy: I have been longing to write to you for a long, long time. We have started to : practice for the May procession which will be the ; lat Sunday of this month. We miss FatherCush-iinli.li) FatherCush-iinli.li) every day, more and more, but we like Father "Miiimion ever so much and will miss him, too, when ) lie hit., in leave us. ! I go lo St. Joseph's school and just love to go. I have four sisters. (v.il bvc for this time dear Aune Busy. Your fe.l nieeo, MARY LUBWIG. I Aunt Busy has been very long in answering I your loiter, Mary, but she did not mean to neglect j yen. She loves lo bear from the dear Ogden chil- drew and lmpes to hear very often from your own d-ar little self. j Halleck. Xcv., May 26, 1904. f Dear Aunt Busy: 1 have written to you once I I; . but did not see my letter in the paper. We had a very bad snow storm here this month ;u;d many of the wild flowers died. 1 am nine years old. I have a brother five and I "He iwo vears old. Good bve Aunt Busy. Your j , niec... EDNA MURPHY. Aunt Busy has never received your letter. Edna, I r .-he. would certainly have answered. She is glad 'hat you wrote again. Give her love to the dear brothers and think of Aunt Busy when you gather i 'he wild flowers, because she loves them so. - j J Eureka, Utah, June 6. 1004. i Dear Aunt Busy: As I read all your little letters . in ibe lntermouutain Catholic I thought I would 1 , like to write you one, to ask you how yuu arc get- .j1 liny along and tell you that I made my first Holy r t 'omniunion and nine girls and five hys made it. i Sunday afternoon we were all enrolled in the scap- -; uiars, and Sitter told us tolc good children and go j Mass. I So good bye. Hoping to hear from you soon, I remain your loving niece, SADIE AYLARD. Aunt Busy was pleased to hear from the little r,ei,-(. from Eureka because the Eureka children j really neglect her. She rejoices with the dear little people who made ; iheir first Holy Communion, and trusts that their I lives will always be happy and good. Write often J 1" Aunt Busy. I St. Joseph's School. Ogden, Utah, May 24, 1904. Dear Aunt Busy: Will you be glad when vacation ' 'ymc-s i Then we can play a long, long time, but I do not suppose you will. Would you like to be a lit- I tie trirl again? I am eight years old and in the Third Reader. Willi love, I remain your fond niece, ROSALINE O'CONNOR, j Yes, Aunt Busy is glad when vacation comes I and she thinks that all her dear little friends earn a joyous, happy holiday time. Play all day long I dear little Rosaline, you will never have such such f merry hours as the present again. Yes, Aunt Busy t would dearly love to be a little girl again, but she takes great delight in 6eeing her little friend3 have happy times. Write of ten, little niece with the v -ry pretty name. j J, A GENTLE-MAN. J Forbore the ant-hill, shunned to tread, , a mercy, on one little head. . If EMERSON. t . H - ' ) BE YE KIND ONE TO ANOTHER," Be useful where thou livest, that they may Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still. Kindness, good parts, great places, are the way To compass this. Find out men's want and will, And meet them there. All worldly joys go less To the one joy of doing kindness. " GEORGE HERBERT. ELINOR'S PUG. Elinor Archer was a little girl who lived on a ranch in Texas. A ranch, you kuow, is what, we would call a grass farm here in this country, only it is very much larger. Mr. Archer's ranch was so large that his next neighbors were twenty miles away and they had no children, so that Elinor had no playmates. Her mother tried to make up for this by getting her a great many dolls, and Elinor, playing alone with her dolls, came to feel toward them exactly as if they were living beings. One evening quite late she came in and told her mamma that she had left Rosabel, her-pretttiest and newest dolly, cut at the big roeks where she had been playing. "And I niast go right back and get her," she said; "she's not beecu long away from town, and she'll be afraid out there." "My dear,' her mother objected, "you can't go so far this evening. It would be night before you could get there.. Just wait, little sweetheart, and mother will go with ygu in the morning to get the dolly." Elinor puckered her face to cry to cry (with a little whining sometimes), was Elinor's besetting sin. "Oh, mamma," she whispered, "I just can't leave my dear Rosalel out on the plain all night. It might rain, and then she'll get her complexion all washed off." "Now, love," her mother urged, "you know it never rains at this time of the year. Rosabel will be safe and dry when we get her in the morning." "But an old coyote might come out and eat her up!" Elinor went on. "I must go back, mamma ' I really must! She'll be scared to death." And I am sorry to say that Elinor whined and cried all through her suppertime, and even after she was put in, her little bed. It is the most dangerous thing in the world to go to sleep crying.. For one thing, you are sure to have bad dreams; and, for another, if you are like Elinor and sometimes walk in your sleep, this is the very time that you will do it. The lady moon rose late that night. It was 12 , o'clock when she had climbed high enough in the sky to look in at Elinor's window. And there she saw, first little Elinor, lying peacefully in her pretty white bed, with the plaster cherub on the wall to guard her, and then little Elinor, in her white night gown, scrambling out of bed. The child was fast asleep. But the door was unfastened, as it nearly always is in a Texas ranch house. ' Elinor walked toward it, opened it and went out. If she had been awake, she could not have found her way back to the rocks where she had been playing more than a mile from the house; but a sleep-walker finds directions di-rections without need of sight, and the child went out the gate and off across the broad prairie without with-out a moment's hesitation. Bismarck, the big house dog, rose as she crossed the porch, and silently followed her. When she got to the rocks, she found her doll without lookincr for it. She picked it up, and sat rocking and singing sing-ing to it. Bismarck thought this very foolish behavior. be-havior. Why a girl should get out of her bed and walk a mile across a lonesome plain at night, to find a worthless doll evidently puzzled his doggish brain considerably. The moonlight was very dim, as a waning moon always is. A coyote was barking on the hillside nearby, and Bismarck bristled up, for he hated coyotes. There came the long-drawn-out howl of the wolf, and Bismarck growled outright. A slinking gray , shadow came up behind the little girl's shoulder, Bismarck sprang at it .there was a wild outburst of barking, howling, snapping and clicking of teeth.N The wolf for it was a wolf had brushed against Elinors shoulder, and this, with the noise, wakened her. She sat, cold, shivering and mu,",t desperately frightened, while the two great animals growled and fought, bit and tore, beside her. Imagine, if you can, just how you would feel to wake-up in the middle of the night and find yourself your-self alone, oup of doors, in the dark, with w!v.it you took to be two wild beasts fighting about which one should eat you up. This was just what Elinor thought, and finally she gathered up her doll and attempted to run away. But, dear me! Her poor little feet were sore from traveling unshod over the rough ground. Now that she was awake, she could not see, and she ha si scarcely stumbled a dozen steps before Bismarck (who had settled with that slinking wolf and shaken the life out of him) joined her. She was going in the wrong direction that is, qquite away from home; and the dog pulled at her gown to pull her back into the right path. Finally, after much sitting sit-ting down to weep, and being coaxed to try ag.iin . by the dog, Elinor put her hand on Bismarck's collar col-lar and let him lead the way. It was dawn before she reached the ranch house; and there they found a scene of wild confusion. Mamma had waked first and found lhe, little girb gone. She had roused all the others, and they .vcre searching and calling in all directions. Elinor was caught up and kissed probably more than any 1'ttle girl in the state of Texas had ever been kissel before. be-fore. "I think it was mean," she said, when they -finally asked for explanations; "somebody carried me away out to the rocks, while I was asleep, and left me there in the dark; and if it hadn't been for Bismarck Bis-marck the wolves would have eaten me." Her mother was kneeling at-her.ieer, putting shoes and stockings upon those tired, ser.-itehod little lit-tle feet, when Elinor said this, and -she looked very reproving. "My little daughter, do you not know that it was these two naughty little fe-.-t that nriiod you out into the night?" she asked. "When people go to bed feeling as angry as my little girl did last night, they arc certain to dream about vnat ever the thing is they are sulking over; and that Is just what you did, dear; you dreamed of it .and walked in your sleep, out to where the doll was." Elinor was only half convinced. Sho told thorn at the breakfast table. all about the light between Bismarck and the wolf ; and her father and one of the cowboys went out, and, sure enough, they brought in the carcass of the dead wolf. - Elinor's papa took the hide and mado :t little bedside rug for her; and now, whenever she is inclined in-clined to whine or go to bed with a sulbn face her mother asks, laughingly : "Elinor, do you want another rugf" And Elinor's Eli-nor's face clears very quickly, for I can tell you sl e does not want to make any more night journey's to see Bismarck kill o wolf. The Pittsburg Observer. TOTTIE AND . JI30IIE. When Tottie and Jimmie came to visit grandpa and grandma at the Valley farm m October, grandpa grand-pa promised them a trip to town. Now Tottie -md Jimmie had never seen a town, so they were much excited. Tottie was 10; Jimmie was 10 also, because, be-cause, as ,Tottie would have told you, "iwinses can': help being the same age." One fine crisp morning everybody at the Valley farm was up before sunrise for town was nventy miles away, and a journey thereto must be begun betimes. Just before they started in the market wagon with the twocbid red horses, grandma gave Tottie and Jimmie 10 cents each. "Get just exactly what you like for y'ourselves," she said. ' Grandpa let them take turns driving all the way to town. .This was best of all. When they had driven ten miles the world was getting pretty well wakened up. and they met lots of people. But how Tottie and Jimmie pitied those people who were not going to. town. with. "a grandpa! It was such good fun to rat lie through the little villages where the children cjibc out to look at them. Tottie and Jim-mit Jim-mit felt so important. Everybody must know that they were going to town with grandpa, and it was a wonderful thing. Halfway to town grandpa slopped, the. horses in a little woodsy place where there was a brook, and they ate the lunch grandma had prepared and drank the cleay, cold water of the brook. It was such fun just as good as a picnic, you know; a lid grandpa tol dthem stories and made them laugh. Grandpa was so jolly. When they got to town Tottie and Jimmie stared until their eyes ached. It was a wonderful, wonderful day all through. They saw enough to talk about all winter. Between Be-tween times they each thought deeply on what they should buy with their 10 cents. They had never had so much money to spend before. But presently Tottie brightened up and looked knowing. She had decided what she would buy. A little later Jimmie also brightened up and looked knowing; he had thought of lhe very same thing. When going-home time came they were glad and tired and happy. The road secerned pretty long going back, and they got sleepier and sleepier. When Tottie began to nod violently grandpa thought it was time to do something. lie stopped the horses, spread a big rug on the floor of the wagon behind the seat, fixed up a pillow out of parcels, put the drowsy twins in and covered them over Avith another rug. Tottie and Jimmie slept as soundly for the last twelve miles as if they were at home in bed. It was bright moonlight when the big bay horses stopped in the Valley farm yard and Tottie and Jimmie woke up. ' After supper Tottie'gravely untied a small parcel. par-cel. "I got this for you, grandpa," she said, nroudly. It was a gorgeous heart of ping candy, adorned with gilt paper, and a motto, and the picture of a rose. "Well, well," said grandpa, "isn't that a splendid splen-did present'" "I got something for grandma," said Jimmie, proudly. Then he undid his parcel, and lo! there was a yard of the very brightest bright yellow and bright blue plaid satin ribbon that 10 cents could buy. Grandma held up her hands. "Dear me!" she said, "isn't that a most elegant thing, now?" , When Tottie and Jimmie had gone to bed grandma grand-ma and grandpa laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks. "The dear little things!" said grandma. "To think of their buying something for us instead of spending it on themselves!" Grandpa never ate the pink heart, and grandma never wore the plaid ribbon. They kept them wrapped up in, tissue paper in a box on the parlor mantel shelf, and they showed them to everybody. There was nothing Tottie and Jimmie could have bought for them 4hat would have pleased them more. Vesner Bell. CHILDREN AND THEIR PRAYET S. From the- Ave Maria. "Children and Their Players," in the title of an article which, though,, published in a Protestant periodical ("St. Clement's Magazine"), we heartily wish every Catholic parent in the United States could read. We quote the most notable paragraph, referring to an obligation the importance of which cannot be exaggerated: "The fourth point to be observed is this, that parents should see to it that their children do say their prayers. This is the long and tedious part of the training. Children, as a rule, neeJ constant con-stant looking after in other matters. The average healthy boy has .to be told to wash his hands several times a day for several years before he .really gets the habit of doing it. Almighty God expects an equal diligence in teaching children to pray, and it is fairly reasonable to suppose that this will enter en-ter into His judgment on parents. O fcourse it may be a bother always to get boys or girls up in the morning in time for their prayers, fdways be sure they say them at night.- But. it will be considerably con-siderably worse to admit to God hereafter tb?.t it was too much trouble" to teach the children to pray. They may object, just as they object to having clean hands; but the loving mother will .pay no ac'cniiou to such objections. She will require of her children that they show proper respect to God, just as she requires them to show respect to herself.'' A Protestant Hymn to the Blessed Virgin. : The following verses'frbm the Protestant. Episcopal Epis-copal "Living Church" show, remarks the "Sacred Heart Review," how tho hearts of Protestants arc turning these days to her whom the Angel Gabriel called "blessed among wpmen," but whom for hundreds hun-dreds of years Protestantism has neclected to honor: ho-nor: "Virgin with the deep brown eyes, True and tender, sweetly wise, Gazing off into the blue. Soul and body thrilled anew. Blessed Mother Mary. "Thy dear gentle .hands have pressed Our Redeemer to thy breast, Tender, nourished Him whom we Now adore on bender knee, s. Thou pure Mother Mary. "By all generations blessed, Joy and grief together pressed On the heart, and motherhood Face to face with Godhead stood. Holy Mottier Mary. . "Since the Son of God came down, 1 And the head received thy crown, Motherhood'shall ever be Bound with Heaven cnternally, Blessed Mother Mary. FLORENCE TICKNOR. - TRIOS. ' Three things to love: Courage,' gentleness, affection. af-fection. ' Three things lo admire: Intellect, dignity and gracefulness. Three things to hate: Cruelty, arrogance and ingratitude. Three things to delight in: Beauty, frankness and freeedom. Three things to like: Cordiality, good' humor and checerfulness. Three things to avoid: Idleness, loquacity and flippant jesting. Three things to cultivate: Good books, good friends and goocd manners. Three things to contend for: Honor, country and friends. Three things to govern : Temper, tongue and conduct. A CHURCH PROCESSION. ' It has long been a saying in New York that the Irish build the churches. The Italians in their settlements set-tlements follow almost automatically the line of setttlemc-nt of Irish immigrants in New York neighborhoods. With their increase there is a de-j de-j mand for Italian churches which. is not supplied by the building of new edifices, but by the surrender of this built by Irish parishioners to Italian con- gregations. I The Church of the Transfiguration, in Mott street, for instance, is in a parish at one time almost al-most exclusively Irish. The parish was established in 1872 and remained for three-quarters of a cen-try cen-try one of the church landmarks of the district. The Church of Our Lady of Pompeii, in Bleeck-er Bleeck-er street, near Downing, is the successor of the Church of St. Benedict, the congregation of which ! was established in 1S2. - ' - ,. "The Church of St. Anthony, in Sullivan street, , was originally a congregation largely Irish, and the dedication of this church in April 1SU(, occurred at a time when the Italian population of the vicinity was inconsiderable. German Catholic congregations in New York build their own churches. So do other congregations congrega-tions generally. Hungarian. French. Bohemian and Polish, but among the Italians the custom is to acquire ac-quire a, church already built. PRIEST INVENTOR. A v.ireles telegraph system invented by Rev. Joseph Murgas of the Saered Heart church, Wilkesbarre, Pa., has been perfected and he has been notified by the patent office in Washington that the sixth and seventh patents ou his apparatus bad been granted. The system, Father Murgas believes, is greatly ! superior to that of Marconi in that it is more sim-: sim-: pie and speedy. This is as far as Father Murgas will say, except lo add that exhaustive experiments made with it have all beeen satisfactory, and that it is complete. If Father Murgas makes money out of it he says he will devote it to the church. ! For seven years Father Murgas has beeen work-! work-! ing upon his invention, having established .his ; workshop in the rear of his rectory. He has also i established a station two miles away from his home, ! and from these two points the messages have been sent and received in all the ttages of the invention' ': development. Father Murgas tood degrees in electrical science in Vienna eighteen years ago, and has kept abreast of the developments in electricity ever since. |
