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Show l 1 UHTER-WHITING DIRECTIONS. 1 ; '. rite on one Fide of paper onlj I ! J not have letters too long. I j Address all lot tors to "Aunt Busy." In- J ; ttt n j Jt.taia Catholic. I j AUNT BUSY HAS HER SAY. J 1 ;.! Nieces and Nephews: Aunt f j i:n-y d. voiitly wished one lay this ( 5 u.vk that she could be a small boy for i ,-t Hh.'il lime. lo you want to knuw j "i:.w I I i 1 . 1 1 1 mi her desk were letters from j ' 1 1 i . 'T the dearest, linest fellows in f 5 A ri a she means three uf her Off- I 'N il ii' -i'li'M s, the Ions-lost nephews 1 Mic has been writing about. Now she was s i "' ijoyed that she would thor- otmhly Kke to take oft her cap, throw ' it imi.j i:p in the air and say. '"whoop." "h .i.v." "bully." "golly." etc., (of , il" she were a small hoy), but ; i : : "lily a poor, fat old woman, sh; j -aiileil all the rest of the day, and - iti.i .iit loud many limes "the dear h'N," and she is still smiling, and I ! nh'-n next week all the nieces and I : ii. I'hews read those bright, interesting ; :-;t"is written by three intelligent! ni-"iean lads, you surely will all say: j ! i Well, it is no wonder that Aunt Busy ; i.-!s badly w hen the Ogden boys do j i write to her." So, next week. Aunt I 5 liusy hopes to answer her Offden lads 1 . i ml explain to them why she ma'de 1 ' sti' h an unkind remark in one of her ! i letters recently. Much love and "buck- ' .ts" nf pood wishes to vou all, from yo;u loving, AUNT BUSY. ABOUT LONG STORIES. ! t'ear .Nieces anu .eines; -auui i Busy w ishes to tell you something tt- about the length of the stories you i send to her department. You see. she i s ha so many letters from so many dear ! f i hildron that she wishes the stories t.- be short very short about "as lon ; ! as your finger," as a little niece once ! i wrote. Aunt l'.usy would rather you would s--:i.t in little sketches instead of ! ngthy stories. She must find room ! !. the letters from her girls and boy?, h.,ause without their letters life to Aunt Busy would be a long and weary burden, but aim to keep the stories ! t shut, dear children, please, i AUNT BUSY. LETTERS AND ANSWERS. Kureka, Utah. Jan. 20. J Dear Aunt Busy: I am a little girl , ,s years old. I go to St. Joseph's school, a n.l 1 have a very kind teacher. My i sister reads the letters in the Inter- l mountain Catholic for me each week I because I cannot read fine print. San- ta Claus was Very good to me this year. 1 have two sisters and two i brothers. My mamma has been dead ' j for six years, but I have a dear, good . papa. 1 hope to see my letter in print. Good bv, from vour loving niece. SADIE AYLAYARD. I Aunt Busy has a glad welcome for I the ib. ar, new niece from Eureka. There j j i something strangely familiar about 5 tho writing of that letter.too. It re- minded Aunt Busy of a dear, dark- h.iire.l girl. wh' va" one of her school- mates several years ago, hut this t- f cuild not bea.- u) iite letters, so I t'ti- writing is possibly only a resem- b hin. e to the other writing. Aunt Busy thinks you are a very fortunate little 'girl to have a dear, good papa, since I t'n dear mother has gone to heaven. H l"i m her home in the skies she is j .? v. ;.ti hiiig her dear little girl, and she ' is prayiiiff for papa and you. so be a j 1 s,e' t.'good child and try to take your J ! mother's place in the heart of i .-.; j.apa. Write soon again, little f IMamondville, Wyo., Jan. 21. I I -;.! Aunt Busy: How arc you get- ti:-g al-na;? 1 thought I would write to !! y..u know that Adam Kingharm lv-. l ot diphtheria, and also an-j . r s, ,iool-inate of mine, named J M.r.t I r.' . utt. 1 have just been read- h- ti!- !n. i mountain Catholic, and '' '! i.bout the guardian angels in, Ai-,io Husy, 1 will close as I ;' !:i. i h". With love to all, l"".u .,.; ; n.g n-).hew, M"K;.N K A 1 1 A N AUG H. :. Aii'it l:i:.-y Id never get along at all if her d .,, .,..p,ew Morgan did not writ- to her. she is sorry, indeed, to i h.ar of the deaihs of 'your little friends, I but do you know, d-ar nephew, Aunt 1 Busy never can f. 1 sorry for the ..ung i.eopie wdio die. but she does s iiipathize de'-jily with those who are J ' it to mourn. Aunt Busy hopes thit .: )" and your d-ar bt other will keep i Write soon a gain. Morgan. b'V" S. r.i ii St.. (imaha. Neb.. Jan. -0. , 1 ';,! Aunt Busy: My sister Viola h v.?.,!- to yon a few months ago and vas very mti' li p leased to see her letter I ''tid story in print. I am sending a , -lory and 1 hope that it is not too hmg j 'o print. When 1 started to write 1 I thought it would be shorter. i Your loving niece. I MAY MOBEAKTY. 1 "DOUUTHY." I Won't you please buy some match? esv" i turned quickly, expecting t" fin I an angel, from the sound of her I MMvieal oiee. When there on the j i'ivi-njint stood a little 5-year-old. J t.ild. Jier shoes and stockings were I orn. an old shawl etivered her little shoulders and a Utile basket was on J I."! arm. Bong, brown hair hung in ti' glets to her waist, and a pair of the I most beautiful blue eyes that I ever I beheld were raised appealingly up to j none. 1 frowned and looked very sad, for on- glan-e at that beautiful face and a i" nr ver-to-be-forgotten scene flits across I iy mind. Standing near a window in ii nursery of a beautiful mansion stands a little brown-eyed, curly-head i boy and a little girl with brown curls f and blue eyes. The mile children have their arms a round each other and are looking out ver the beautiful grounds, when suddenly sud-denly they hear strange voices below th-iii. The little girl starts to cry, but hither fciuses her xa. '...'lis her to to go to bed, he won't let anyone harm her. They are soon in dreamland with their arms around each other. The next morning she is gone. Where'.' Where? Oh: if he only knew. Long years have passed since then and r The child, thinking she has offended him, has started to go. But he calls her back and slipping a five dollar bill in her cold little hand, tells her to hurry hur-ry home, after he asks her address. There is no rest for him tonight. He gets up and walks the floor, but at 1 every step and in every corner a beau-l beau-l tiful brown curly head appears before him. At last worn out he throws him-i him-i self down on the bed and sleeps. But only for a moment, that beautiful face haunts his dreams. He dresses himself and impatiently awaits for (Jaylight. i As soon as it is light enough to see, he goes out and, calling a passing hackman, hands him an address, which he reads and looks up in surprise to think that such a wealthy man would want to go to such a place. The wealthy man notes his surprise, but tells him to hurry and drive there. Now let us take a look at the little girl where we left her. She goes home with the money and enters the room with such a sad look that it startles her sick mama to see a frown on her baby's beautiful face. She asks in surprise what happened, as she has disposed of her matches she has certainly made a few cents at least, unless some one has taken them from her. Between sobs she tells her mama that a man took her matches, but only gave her a piece of paper in return. Her mama asks her for the paper, but alas it is gone. From the child's de- ' seripuon me motner thinks it must have been paper money, but it is too dark to try and find it now. She consoles con-soles her little daughter by telling her to say her prayers and go to sleep. God would not forsake them. Long after her baby slumbers the poor mother is cutting wood for matches, match-es, until at last the candle burns out and she is compelled to lie down. But not until she has prayed for the baby, forgetting herself. The child is up at daylight and is soon busily tying the matches into little lit-tle packages, and many the person stops to listen as he hears her little song floating out over the morning air like a voice from heaven. She is quite a distance from the earth as their room is on the seventh floor of a tenement house. The mother smiles in her sleep as she dreams that she hears the angels singing. She starts suddenly, sits up in the bed and looks around as one in a dream, but suddenly she recalls where she is and is soon busily cleaning up their little room. The little child stops singing and listens, thinking that she hears footsteps, foot-steps, but all is silent and she starts again. After a few minutes there is a knock at the door. As her mother opens it, a handsome but sad-looking man enters. The child recognizes 'him as the j man who bought her matches and starts forward with a cry of joy at seeing see-ing him again, and in her humble home. The mother is surprised and glances at him several times before she speaks. He resembles someone so much that she had seen a long time ago. Who can it he? She has a faint remembrance remem-brance of her, father. Can it be him? Oh, no, she forgets, for a moment, that he must be an old man now. He takes the child on his knee and. with tears in his eyes, tells her that he once had a little sister, and how much like her she looks. The child resembles her mama so much and the more he looks at her the more puzzled and troubled he is. At last he asks her if she remembers re-members when she was a child. She says that she remembers very little of her life except trouble and misery, although she has a slight recollection rec-ollection of being in a mansion which was surrounded by beautiful gardens and lawns, on which were many sparkling spark-ling fountains. There were a great many people there, also lots of music, singing and dancing. A little brother was with her always. The last time that she remembers him he was telling her a story. After that she was with big. cross-looking men all the time, who were taking her from one hiding place to another, until, at last, one night they did not lie down, but sat around the tire talking and smoking. Soon after midnight she fell asleep. On wak-ins wak-ins the next morning she found herself her-self in a tenement surrounded by dirty children and grown-up people. She could not remember a happy day since she left her little brother. She did not know whether she had dreamed this or whether it was real, but she bad often amused her little daughter by telling her about it. The man asked her if she remembered remem-bered her brother's name. She said i that some one used to call him Ewing, but she called him "buzzer." She thinks 1m.. Inci iomf wi Cberburrv as! she heard the robbers conversing together to-gether once about a Mr. Cherburry, and how much he was worth. He seemed to be the topic jf conversation at all times. One of the robbers saw her listening to their conversation and told her that if she ever mentioned her name to any one they would kill her. He, the wealthy man, went to her, and. throwing his "arms around her. said that it was not a dream it was all too true, but that she must not cry for she was his little sister, and he would never let any one harm her again, for he would take her to his beautiful home w here the baby could j sleep in the same little room that her , mama slept in the night before she was j stolen. The mother had on a locket which she had never taken off since j she was at home. Her mother's pie- ; ture was in it, and whether the rob- bers' hard hearts had been touched at the sight of that sweet face, and never took it from the child, we do not know. It had been carefully concealed from every one else. You may be sure the baby never knew another moment of sorrow if her I uncle could prevent it. Manv the happy hour she snent run- ' ning through the gardens and playing where her mama had played when she wa a little girl. The baby's name was Dorothy, which suited her so well, as it means a gift of God, and she certainly was to her dear mama and uncle. MAY MO RE ARTY'. How delighted Aunt Busy was to hear from you. May. She well remembers remem-bers the nice letter and the very pretty pret-ty story written by your bright young sister. Aunt Busy hopes to hear from her soon again, and she sincerely hopes that you will write to her very often. Aunt Busy wishes to compliment you on your writing. It certainly is a very beautiful specimen of vertical penmanship. penman-ship. Aunt Busy only wishes that th-3 dear nieces and nephews could see your writing. Aunt Busy has a very-warm very-warm interest in her dear Omaha nieces. Facts About Dolls. The origin of the word doll is curious. curi-ous. Centuries ago, when saints' names were much in vogue for chil-dien, chil-dien, St. Dorothea vas the most popular, pop-ular, and her name the best and luckiest luck-iest that could be given to a little girl. j.ne iMcmiauie was uuu , oi iun, onu from giving babies the nickname it was an easy step to pass it on to the little images of which the babies were so fond. The word doll is not found in common com-mon use in our language until the middle mid-dle of the eighteenth century, and as far as can be discovered, first appears ir; "The Gentleman's Magazine" for September, 1751, in the following: "Several "Sev-eral dolls with different dresses, made in St. James street, have been sent to the czarina to show the manner of dressing at present in fashion among English ladies." The Greater Fool. In ancient days kings kept jest, rs, and this is related of one of them: Once a king gave a jester a rod, or scepter, to show that he was the king of fools. This scepter he was to keep until he found a man who was a greater fool than himself. By and by the king fell sick and was about to die. The jester came and stood sadly at his bedside. The king said: 'I must go Into eternity eter-nity a long journey. 1 know not whither." . Then said the jester: "Have you known that you would have a journey into eternity?" The king answered: "Yes." The jester said: "When are you coming back?" "Alas, never!" said the king. The jester inquired: "Have you ever made any preparation for your long journey?" "No," said the king. "Then," said the jester, "take my scepter, for you are certainly a greater fool than I." Jenny Lind and Her Rival. Jenny Lind and the famous Oris! were to sing at the same concert in London. The song of the Swedish nightingale, night-ingale, as Jenny was called, was first on the programme, but as she was about to begin her difficult aria she noticed no-ticed a look of fierce scorn upon the face of her rival. "She hates me." thought Jenny. ' I wish I could make her love me." The accompanist struck the final chords of the prelude and waited for her signal, but she motioned for him to rise, and herself took the vacant seat at' the piano. Then she began singing a little prayer which she had learned in the fatherland. She had not sung it for years, but as she progressed she forgot everything but the words; she was no longer entertaining enter-taining royalty. She was joining In the evening hymn as she had done a hundred hun-dred times before, and the undercurrent I of her thoughts was: "If I sing this I shall not surpass her, and God will let her love me." The last note ended In a sob, and Jenny lifted her eyes to Grisi's dark face. There was no longer scorn there, and the long lashes were wet. The audience was spellbound by the matcn-less matcn-less voice; but Grisi threw her arms about the homesick little nightingale and kissed her, and was her friend forever for-ever after. |