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Show .Our Boys and -Girls.. Euited by Aunt Busy. I This department Is conducted solely In the lnter- I rsts of our girl and boy readers. I Aunt Bu.- is slad to hear any time from the I rieccs and nephews who read this page, and to eive I ;hem all the adv.'ce and help in her power I Write on one side of the paper only. I Do not have letters too lone. j Original stories and verses will be gladly received I end carefully edited. siauiy receivea teTrheturrnelUSCriPS CO?trIbutions not accepted will CaiSTsJS? AUnt BUS mountain j Picture of Our Lady of Dolors. I - That face so .sad, serene, so calm, So "tiful. so pure. ha qjwnlj- head in reverence bent. , 1,1 Jcs"s' will secure; " liat 'k ,,cde'Vf'l by one lone tear, I Tc'M what thou didst endure. , The hitter oros which broke thv heart vr -J! f1rra&'lhcfd thy dear will, 1 will lead thy children to His feet W ith pricf and joy athrill. There noisy tread of earthly jov Is hushed and cahn and still." 0 Mother! comfort, love and guide The wayward will and heart: Inspire the soul and lead it on, r s?otllp Pach saddened dart, j Lntil this exile cheered by thee. J May form of Heaven a part! Jennie Tarter, Class '07. Sacred Heart Academy. little Red Shoes. "What dear little red shoes!"' said Ah Garnet Gar-net t. pausing in front of a window on the Corso iu Kome "J m sure they would just fit babv." i -iV 1 lhink v'e hafl bcttt'r P in ail(I uv ilieni, Mr. (Jarnetts eyes twinkled, "for Ellen oupht to have a pair of shoes. It must be a whole j week since she had any new ones." J "But these are so cunnincr, Tom! Think how pretty they would look running round the deck of the steamer! O. Tom, isn't it nice that in two weeks Ave shall be sailinp:? When I think that babv liasn t seen her native land yet. I can hardlv wait j to get home. It's really sad not to be born in one's j native land." "Then you are a subject for commiseration, for after a bull like that I'm convinced Ireland must j lie your native land." Mrs. Garnett joined in her huand's merry laughand, drawing her arm through his, said: "Xow you must buy those shoes just to make up J for poking fun at me." It is impossible to say which enjoyed and ad-uiired ad-uiired the red shoes the more that afternoon, baby Ellen or her mother. The nurse took the child for j a promenade in front of the hotel, and Mrs. Gar- I nett, ostensibly reading on the balcony, watched J almost every step of the proud little feet, so daint- I ily shod in shiny red leather. j A fortnight later, at Xaples. Mr. Garnett ten- I derly suppoprted his wife as they walked up the J gangplank of a great steamer. She leaned heavily ( on his arm, and all the sparkle was gone from her J girlish face. Listless and wan, she sank into a deck chair, and as the boat left its moorings she hid her face in her arms, anxious to shut away forever the sight of the Italian shores, where baby Ellen, stricken strick-en with a fierce, sudden fever, lay in the English j burying ground. 'T think." said the ship's doctor, the third day out, when, grave and worn, Mr. Garnett came to j him for advice, "that if your wife would cry or give I way in any manner to her grief, she would be bet- ver. She must be roused from her apathetic con- dition. It is dangerous." : "Yes. she grows weaker hourly," answered Mr. Garnett sadly. He returned to Mrs. Garnett and tried to rouse her interest in some of the events of the voyage, but without success. That evening, weary and discouraged. Mr. Garnet Gar-net t strolled among the steerage passetigers. trying to put away the fearful dread of a double sorrow that was fast growing in his heart. A beautiful, dark-eyed baby toddling toward him. with one tiny foot bare and the other in a worn shoe and stocking, stock-ing, brought a fleeting smile to his lips. He stroked the cloud of soft brown locks, and the mother, pleased at llie attention, explained that Annunciata had lot her shoe, on the dock the day they sailed, and that she insisted upon wearing the one she had left. ' "May I borrow your baby for a little while?" asked Mr. Garnett, with a fair imitation of the mother's Neapolitan dialect. And, holding out his i arm- to Annunciata. she came to him with sweet j contidenee. i "Dear." he said, a few minutes later, standing ' .' before Mrs. Garnett, "here is a small fellow-voy ager who needs a pair of shoes. Can we fit her '-uTf "O Tom!" she cried, and the swift look of pain which came into her face almost broke his resolution. resolu-tion. "Shall I help you find a pair? We can take little lit-tle Annunciata' into" the stateroom with us. Come." Mi. Garnet rose and slowly followed her husband. hus-band. He placed the baby on the berth and unlocked un-locked one of the .steamer trunks. "Ellen's things are here, aren't they, dear?" a-ta'd. as calmly as he could. ' And Mrs. Garnett 1 knelt down ami lifted the little garments out of ilie trunk until she came to a pair of shiny red shoes: then she burst into a passion of weeping, .... i ,il.l A ni.mioi'otn ; .-" UIJII ilUU UIHHIllll'lKU nil") JiiiiiuiiVMUci luvu ill fright. Eor a moment Mr. Garnett feared that the Hood "f sorrow would be too much for her, and he was about to try to calm her when she brushed away her tears and said, sobbing: "I'll put them on the child myself." In a minute the bewildered Annunciata was on her lap, gazing rapturouly at the bright shoes that trembling fingers were fastening on her little feet. Then two hungry arms held her in a long embrace, which, for the s'nkc of lhe red shoes, perhaps. An- . nunciata-bore without protest. "Xow take her to her mother, Tom. She must want her. And. Tom, when you come back I think I can talk to you of Ellen." Mr. Garnett lifted the baby and kissed his wife's cheek and the gentle tears' there gave him new hope. Youth's Companion. Rabbits. Rabbits are generally fed three times a day. but it i- necessary to be on the watch to see lhat they do not waste their food. If n rabbit is found doing 'his its meals should be reduced to two a day. as it i- a sure sign lhat it is having more than is good k for iL "' ,n,La-K'm---n-Almin,im a,-mi- m r"-,tl Trnrnjir in . r. ii ! .1 .mim M...4 jpl.ii. - imf, PHIL SHERIDAN'S PARENTS. How They Received the News of Their Son's Victory Vic-tory in the Shenandoah Valley. One of the sweetest and most pathetic war stones sto-nes is about the Sheridans, father and mother of General Sheridan. The old people were living at Somerset, O., when word came that General Sheridan Sher-idan had suffered a great defeat in the Shenandoah valley, says the Youth's Companion. They slept none that night, but in the morning the father said: "Mother, I have thought it all out. Phil wasn't there when the fight began. That is what the paper said. It would not. be like our boy to remain away throughout the battle. As I make it out, Phil returned re-turned in time to save the day. I'll go to the store and wait until the paper comes, get the news, and hurry back. I don't beliee there's anything to worry wor-ry about." "I hope you are right, father, but I'm afraid yesterday's news was correct. Phil has had so much good luck, I'm afraid he's had bad luck in this battle." Old Mi. Sheridan was sitting on the steps in front of the store when a man rode up and called out, "Good news from Sheridan !" Then one of the j bystanders caught up the morning paper and read the account of Sheridan's return to the army, of his turning the tide, of the president's message of thanks, of Sheridan's heroic conduct and the complete com-plete rout of the enemy. The paper said it was one of the greatest victories of the war. That was enough for Mr. Sheridan. He started on a trot to tell Mrs. Sheridan the news about her son's greatest, battle. She saw him coming, and hurried to the gate to get the tidings from Cedar Creek. 'Glory to God, mother, glory to God! Phil licked 'em! The preseident has snt him the country's coun-try's thanks, and the paper savs it was one of the greatest fights of the war. I knew Phil would get back in time to save the day." The old couple hugged and kissed, and kissed and hugged again and again. Aftev titcy bad gone into the house, the old lady suddenly became very sober. "What's the matter, mother i" "Father, did the paper say anything about John?" "Xo, but you know Phil wotdd have sent a dispatch dis-patch if anything had happened to John." John was another son, a private in Sheridan's army in the valley. THE CHILDREN IN DANGER. If the rapid increase noticed this year in the number' of penny arcades and nickel electric theaters thea-ters meant only that speculators were reaping a rich harvest of small coins at. little expense io themselves, there would be no objection to it. The children who spend their monejT in that way might do better to save their pennies, but there would be no call for police interference if the children were not taught immorality as well as encouraged in thrifticssness. Train robberies, the pursuit of escaping criminals, crim-inals, prize fights, lynchings, police raids, escapades esca-pades in which a guilty wife or husband is surprised' sur-prised' by a suspicious spouse, and as many other criminal or disreputable scenes as the imagination of the Uretoscope artist can suggest aro presented vvith lifelike distinctness for young children to luat over. The pictures in the slot machines are often of a kind no father would wish his young son or daughter to look upon. "When not actually indecent in-decent they are often suggestive of indecency. Seme' of the worst of these may be found in places where signs invite the presence of ladies and children. chil-dren. These places, which are open until a late lioiu', arc meeting places for boys and girls, among whom arc certain to be some too experienced in the wickedness of the world to be fit compav.ious for the innocent They invite each other to look at pictures cc doubtful propriety, and take their first steps on the downward way. The glorification of crime in the moving pictures suggests to many a weak mind the ease with which one may gain wcali.ii or fiune if he "'has the nerve." The fact that the train robber, or the safe blower, or the counterfeiter is caught at last makes no impression' upon the youthful spectator. That is laid to had luck or bad judgment, and th eincipiont erhainal is sure ho would be.more fortunate. It is true that these shows are no more depraved than some of the plays produced on tno stages of certain theatre, but they are more dingerous to the children, because they are brought near to the chijxiiciis' schools and homes, and the price is so low that children who never have been to the ihc-atr? ihc-atr? in thei. lives are habitual patrons of the penny or nickel shows. There is enough legal warrant for cicslcri e.11 exhibitions tending to encourage or glorify crime. The streets must be ma ie safe for the children. Chicago Daily Tribune. If I Were You, My Boy, J would learn to be polite to everybody. I wouldn't let any other hoy get ahead of me in my studies. 1 would never make fun of children who are not well dressed. I wouldn't go in company of bad boys who use bad language. I wouldn't get sulky and pout whenever I could not have my own way. I would see if I could get people to like me by being civil to everybody. I would keep my hands and face clean and hair brushed without being told to do so. I would try to see the little, things that I could do to help my mother, and do them without being ' asked. I wouldn't conclude that I know more than mv father before I had been more than sixty miles away from home. Catholic Sun. Too Much for Him. A. few months ago Archbishop Ilyau of Philadel-pphia Philadel-pphia was called to one of the Italian churches in the lower part of Philadelphia to administer the Sacrament of Confirmation to a large class. .The children had been poorly trained, and the teachers had much trouble in arranging them in a satisfactory satisfac-tory way at the altar rail. After many trials the ceremony came to an end after noon. One of the visiting clergymen remarked to the Archbishop: "It was such a provoking lot, I should think you would have been tempted to swear." To which the Archbishop replied: "I cannot illustrate my feelings better than by , telling the story of the Irishman who was noted for profanity: "One day he had to haul a cartload of potatoes up a very rough hill. It was quite ah effort for the poor old horse, and as the cart went jolting up the hill the potatoes bounded out and rolled to the bottom. Before arriving at the top, the tailboard of the cart fell out, and thus the entire load was lost. "The unfortunate e..rtman stood -still in amazement, amaze-ment, never uttering h word. A passer-by who knew him and his wonderful capacity for profanity profan-ity remarked: " 'Why, Larry, what's the matter wi' you I Why don't you swear V "Larry replied: 'Ah. begorra, I am afraid 1 can't gather enough of meself together to be equal to the occasion.' "And," said the Archbishop, "that is about my case." IN THE FIRELIGHT. The fire npon the hearth is low. And there is stillness everywhere, And, like the winged spirits here and there, The firelight shadows fluttering go. And as the shadows round me creep. A childish treble breaks the gloom. . And softly, from a further room Comes. "Xow I lay me down to sleep." ' And somehow with that little prayer. And that sweet treble in my ears, My thought goes back to distant years And lingers with a deai one there; " Anel as I hear my child's Amen. My mothers' faith comes back to me. Crouched at her side 1 seem to be, And mother holds my hands again. t O for an hoar in that dear place! J J 0 for the peace of that dear time! , 0 for that childish trust sublime! O for a glimpse of mother's face! ! Yet, as the shadows round me creep, "' 1 do not seem to be alone Sweet magic of that treble tone And "Xow I lay me down to sleep." Eugene Field. Angels That Bit. A little Price Hill tot of three years was put to bed, her first night in Xew Jersey, by her mother, with the words. "Xow go to sleep, darling, and 'remember 're-member the angels are flying about your little crib and keeping you from harm." A few minutes later the patter of little feet was heard and a little white-robed figure emerged from the bedroom. "Why, darling, what's the matter asked the mother. "I don't like the angels," sobbed the little girl. "Why, dearie, why not '." "One o' the angels bit me." A Thanksgiving Thought. All over the land, with their wishbones iu hand. The children are wishing for joys old and new. And it's easy to see just how gay life will be When all of those millions of wishes come true ! Catholic Universe. i DON'TS FOR GIRLS. i Don't be rude toward your brothers. Boys' feelings feel-ings are as sensitive as girls'. Don't forget that you owe the same respect and obedience to your father that you do to your mother. moth-er. Often the rightful head of the house is placed at the foot through sheer thoughtlessness on the part of his family. Don't forget that it i in most cases the father who devotes his life in work and worry to provide for his family, and show him the gratitude he deserves. de-serves. Don't have secrets from your mother. Remember Remem-ber that she was a girl oiye like yourself and that she will prove the most sympathetic confidant in the world, for she holds your happiness and welfare at heart. i THE BEDTIME KISS. The bed-time kiss is the sweetest kiss, So soft the love-lips cling, So far away are the dreams of day. So faint are the songs we sing; So tender the clasp of the little arms, So trusting the eyes of sleep; So close, so close, to the heart of one Does the bed-time baby creep ! The bed-time bliss is the sweetest bliss, So weary the hands and feet ; So drowsy -drow are the eyes of blue And the mouth of the rose so sweet ; So faithful the fold of the little hands, So pleading the good-night sigh; So air, so fond, when the fairy wand Leads on to the Py-o-by. The bed-time love is the sweetest love, So cuddled and cute and fair, The little queen of the nighty-gown. The girl of the golden hair; So bravely bright in his robe of night The lad of the venture-heart; O babes of the bed-time, unto me How dear, how dear, you art! ' Baltimore Sun.- |