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Show , 'jyjji Boys and irl$ I Edited by Aunt Busy. 0oK I 'j-,v ,lrp;n-(mciit is conducted solely in the in- "f I ...;,,f our fiirl nnd loy readers. !"d I 'u;lt Hus.v is jrhnl 1 lifar any time from the " j1'" 1,j,.r'f mi-l nri'ii'"vs wlio read this pago, and to give "'J."1" j ,',., .ill thi; iidicc ami help in her power. 'v' I Write mi one side of the paper only. ' ' i ),, not have letters too long. I Original stories and verses will be gladly re- j f rived and carefully edited. 'vy j The manuscripts of contributions not accepted I . 1 he returned. 1 Address all letters to Aunt Bu?y, Intermountain ,,'(, ' Ct!)"(''' -ac i.v- i;;t. EE IX TIME. Bo in time for every call, in t , If you can, be first of all Pa in time. "1 If your teachers only find t'i ; Von are never much behind, i,r. : Hut are like the dial true. They will always trust In you ' in time. Never linger ere you start: , Het out 'vviih a Milling heart , I Ha in time. In the morning un and en, krt First to work and soonest done; :,n This is how the prize is gained i- Ba in time. r Those who aim at something great , Never- yet were found too late it ; 1' in time. 1 I.ifc with all is hut a school; 1 W must work by plan and rule, "With s"me noble end in view, JCvcr steadj-. earnest, true-lie true-lie in time. ;'' listen then to wisdom's call; s Knowledge now is free to all Be in time. Youth must daily toil and strive, 1 Treasure for the future hive: f For the work they have to do. Keep this motto well in view Be in time. I AUNT BUSY ON LETTER WHITING. p(lir Xieees and Xephews: Aunt Busy is not receiving ver many letters fiji.v vacation began and she regrets not hearing ? fr-m l;er dear young friends. She dearly loves the li ii'1'-. from tlio bold writing of her boys, the care- fully written letters of her girls to 1 lie funny, queer loiters from ihe dear babies filled .with blots :i!'d vralehos that Aunt Busy thinks are meant for Mui Aunt Busy often wishes that some of the let-i-r r-)iv receives were more carefully and legibly written. Sometimes letters come with no name, no date, no address: often they are written on both sides f il,o paper despite the instructions given iu this d"p;irtment for letter writing. f course, many of the letters are very good, and Aunt Busy does not wish to preach too long, but she dor s hope that this little talk will lead to much improvement im-provement in Ihe letters sent to her. She remains ever, faithfully and lovinglv, AUXT BUSY. LETTERS AND ANSWERS. Moscow, Ida., June S, 1904. Prar Aunt Busy: I thought I would write you a little letter 'just to tell you that we like our now pastor, Father "Mooney. very much. I am going to make my first communion in August and as Father Mooney of- f re.l a gold mdal and other rewards for good cate-1 cate-1 uiMii and regular attendance, I am working very l.iiro to win one of them. We are having vacation now and I have a friend ' n ;i farm and 1 have been there for a week, and had f ? i" of fun, learning to milk cows and a lot of other ! I am going to the public school and I am in the six' li grade and am 11 years old. and now I must -!"-o for this time. Your nephew, HENRY EODXER. j Aunt Busy is phased to hear from a new ueph- j cv from Idaho. lather Alooney has many friends, Henry, and is wry good, to children under his care, so study hard find please him all you can. Success to you for the medal and the happy I.:1' - during vacation. Fureka, Utah, June 15. B Aunt Buy: Our b,iby i- seven months old and he-can talk ."i" i Wo liave seven little turkeys and nineteen ! 'Mo . lno!; i and big chickens and. roosters. Clare o i.o -j years on June 24. i M- i- nil 1 can think of today, but I will write ir, you s. ,nio other dav. Your niece, MARGARET STACK Bow Aunt Busy wishes she could sec the darling b.- '.iy who is . sweet and bright! She would like 1o see dear little Margaret, too, jto writes such a quaint little letter. Aunt Busy ', i.'o s ,,il,y bickers and turkeys, Margaret, but she o-arly loves the dear baby sisters and brothers of :; !'!' I'ircis and nephews. K i- ihe swcot baby brother for Aunt Bus", Mar--h-(!. ;nid write soon a era in. Ogden, Utah. Mav 24, 1904. . H ;.r Aunt Buy: A- i li-- other little girls are writing to you, I i 'in iheni in K-Iling you what a happy crowd v'c little O-dcn girl? are. We have f.iur grand swings in our school yard ;.ud we make good use of them, ioo, at recess. 1 tro to St. Joseph's school and am in the second ''id. v. J hale to think that only a few weeks more j ' ! sc.o!, ;1re left. With love. 1 remain, vour fond i , nice. MARY MURPHY. I jr Aimt Bu-y hopes that the dear Ogden niece will " ioel m-glectcd because her welcome letter was 1 '. answred before. Aunt Busy knows that the O-.;, M children are very happy and sweet, Mary. She hopes to hear from you often during vacation. Fureka, Utah, June 24, 1904. ; I :;r Aunt Busy: , '; The h tier you received last week was written by ''her boys, so I am glad you did not publish it. With many ihanks, CYR1B M'PllEE. Aunt Bu-y was very sure that dear Cyril Mc-I'hee Mc-I'hee never wrote the foolish nonsense addressed 1o h'T last week. She knows ho is a sensible, good lit ' !o lad, and is sorry that the loy? who wrote the loiter did not stop to consider that it is wrong to ever sijrn ilf. uainc G jaiother erson to a letter, i nolo or check. - Such an net is dishonest and Aunt Busy feels sure that, ihe boys will not do such a wrong again, r.nw that their uiislake is made known to them. Aunt Busy feels that she has been neglected by her Fureka nieces and nephews of late, Cyril. DOV SAVED THE EOY'S LIEE. Out of gratitude alone we ought to treat animals well, for they arc often instruments in saving life. One winter evening a farmer was driving homo from the annual market in a neishboring town. On ihe road a little dog ran up to him winning piteous-l.v; piteous-l.v; then it turned down a by-road, barking. As the farmer took no notice, it came up to him tigoin, barking in a yet more demonstrative manner, and getting in front of the cart lno was driving. I Then it went agin to the by-roadand, turning f round, looked appealingly at the man, who, si ruck by the animal's behavior, stopped Ms horses and followed fol-lowed it. At a short distance he found a boy lying unc-oiiscious on the suow, benumbed with cold. Ho t i lifted him up. carried him to his cart, wrapped him in a rug, and at the first inn he cairn, to inquired who the child was. The innkeeper knew him and sent him to his parents, who lived near. .They said that the boy had been sent to the market and had probabl' lost his way and, overcome with cold and weariness, had been unable to rc-"'i homo. Had the little dog not been with him, he would have died of exposure to the cold. DOLLY BRANDON. "If I had a boat," said Dolly Brandon, "I know what I'd nr.me it." " "The Ti 'incess Oladiola or something else romantic, ro-mantic, I bet," said Tom. ".No, I wouldn't any such thing. I'd name it 'The Tom Brandon.' so there!" ''Thay shows what you know about naming boats! 5Tobody ever gives a boat a bov's name. You . . . i ought to give it a girl's name, a beautiful one, after somebod" that's done something fine." ''Oh, Tom," said Dolly, wisl fully. "I do hope you'll win the race!" She wished her own name was beautiful;. she wished she had done something fine. How lovely it would be to have a boat named after her. ''Hello, JerT," said Tom, "where did you come from r" A tall, blond boy came through the bushes. Hello. Hel-lo. How are you getting on .'" "There's a lot to do yet, but if you'll help I can get it finished in time." Tom looked about among his tools and odd pieces of wood. "Well, I declare, I forgot the two wooden braces. Dolly! 'They're in the barn. Run ami get them like a good girl, and get back quick as ever you can! I'd go mi'self, but there isn't time. The boats have all got to be entered this evening, you know." But Dolly was already out of therboat, running away toward home. Although she hated ihe barb-wire barb-wire fence and was afraid of the cows, Dolly decided to run back with ihe braces through the meadow and down past Tilly's cabin, because that was the quickest way. When she got within sight, of Tilly's cabin, there was Tilly running up the road waving her apron. "Aw, Miss Dolly, honn'! Please, ma'am, foteh de doetah: .Tinny upsot do prosarvc kettle an inos' burn herse'f to deaf. Run right quick, whiles I try to hesh her cry in'. I dassen't leabe her." "Oh, Tilly." said Dolly, with panting breath, "I'm so sorry, but I can't." '"Oh, yes. you kin. honey! Go by de brook way! Hit's de quickes'! Run right quick, hone'! Oh, my po' chile! My po' little Jinny!" Dolly stood irresolute. If the boat weren't finished fin-ished and it was her fault, what would Tom say? "Oh, Tilly, what made Jinny do it?" she said. "I wish she hadn't." But she was hiding the braces in the blackberry tangle, and was orT across the meadow mea-dow toward Doctor Carter's home, Tilly calling fter her. "God bless you, honey!" ( It was a long way, but she hurried on. When she gol to the brook she found it much swollen, and the log bridge had been swept awaJ". The water surged and gurgled and ran on smooth agin. She followed the bank, trying to find a place to cross. The sunlight, was getting mellow and late. Tom must be wondering by this time. She would not go for'Doctor Carter, after all. She would go back to Tom. There was no bridge across the brook, anyway, any-way, and that was excuse enough. She started back through the woods. A long blackberry vino caught at her skirt as though to stop her. "Oh, dear," she said, "what shall I do?" She turned at last and ran back to the brook. She tried to test the depth of the water with her foot. Then she splashed into the stream, etching her breath as she went. Whit did it matter about there being no bridge. Tilly had trusted her to get the doctor. The water was deeper than she thought. Half way across she stood shivering and ready to turn back. Then she went on and slipped a little; then the current caught her and she went down, but scrambled up again, and splashed on through. The swift water tugged at her clothes, and more than all, she was afraid, very much afraid. She got to the other bank at last, and scrambled up. muddy and forlorn. The woods looked dark ahead of her. She ran on. cold and afrid up the little hill, then to the woods' edge, and there was Doctor Carters house. At the gate was Doctor Carter's "Jim" mending the fence. "Oh, Jim," cried Dolly, her teeth chattering, "run and tell Doctor Carter to come over to Tilly's cabin ! Li ttle J innT's hurt !" "Bless gracious, missy, what is you done?" said Jim. "Oh, I came through the brook because it was quickest. Run. Jim. quick as ever you can, please." Dolly watched Jim a moment while he ran toward to-ward the house, then she started back not by the woods this time, for the sun was almost down, and she dared not. She must go back by the long way. She hurried on. The wind made her clothing cling io her icily. By and by she began to feel weak, and her head swam. When she got to Tilly's cabin she called that Doctor Carter was coming, and then took the braces from the blackberry thicket. The evening was beginning to darken. A little more, however, and the path to the river would come in sight. She looked up. Tom and Jeff were coming across the hill. "Tom, Tom," she called, "here are the braces!" "I don't want them," called Tom, sharpl "It's too late! There's no use now! I can't get the boat done and it's your fault ! I'm going over to Jeff's !" "Oh, Tom !" called Dolly, but her voice somehow felt smothered. Then she forgot to be brave any longer. She looked after Tom and Jeff, then sat. down on a stone, and sobbed and sobbed, and could not stop. Later, old Doctor Carter, driving by. drew rein and looked down at what seemed to be in the dusk a heap of bedraggled clothing by the roadside. Then lie got out, and stooped over a very limp little figure. " 'Pon my soul!" said ho. stooping closer, nearsightedly, near-sightedly, "if it isn't Dolly Brandon!" He took the limp little body hp in his arms. "Wet as a drowned rat! "Pon mv honor, I believe the world's gone mad!" He bundled the silent little figure into his ductty, and climbed in. Then he drove on at a furious rate, muttering to himself. Dolly looked around her bewildered. The sunlight sun-light was streaming scross the rod-and-white cheeks of the quilt on the big bed in her mother's room. She did not quite know where she was. Her head felt so strange and light. Then there was Tom sitting sit-ting in a big arm chair. "Hello, Dolly, are you awake V Tom got up, and leaned over her gently. "Say, Doll, I didn't mean to be so dreadfully cross about the braces. It was just plucky of you. Yes, it was." "Oh, Tom, 1 was too late, wasn't If said Dolly. , "Don't you bother," said Tom. "I didn't know. I thought you had poked. Jinny is better, and that's because you got tho doctor." Dolly lay still a moment, then she turned to him wistfully. "Wliat name did you choose?" she asked. " 'The. Rowena,' in 'Ivanhoe,' you know." "Did you?" somehow her throat felt tight agin. "But I went down this morning and scraped it off." "Oh, Tom. why?" "I've painted it all over again, and shelooks L.ie. I've called her 'The Dolly Brandon.' " "Oh. Tom," said Dolly, breathlessly, "you haven't!" But Tom only nodded his head wisely, and pursed his lips in that funny way ho had, and said, "Yes, I have." L. Porter in Home Companion, . I |