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Show i ...our Boys and SitK. ' EDITED BY AUNT BUSY. i This department Is conducted solely In the Inter- ' ,t 0' our pirl and Hoy readers. ' Aunt Busy is glad to hear any time from ths ? .s'rnrl nephews -who read this page, and to give nl Hie ndvlce and help in her power. r I '"' Vr't'' on one fil3e cf the paper only. I no 'if ,iave letfers t0 lone- 1 orlpl'i3' stories and verses will be gladly received I .,.(! cfirefully edited. I Tlie manuscripts of contributions not accepted will 1 returned- idires a!' letters to Aunt Busy. IntermountaJn i r,t1ioHc PaH Ike City. j AUNT BUSY HAS HER SAY. I Prsr Xiocos and Xephews: As the beautiful I 1!ontli "f May is fast approaching, Aunt Busy I p-'jihe? 1 announce her usual prizes for the girls hoy? who will keep a little altar to the Blessed j virgin 'luring the month. Besides a holy picture, 1 t ill Lire a white rosary this year, too. Do not I think Tli"1 811 elaborate altr is necessary. Simply j ' picture, large, or small, or a statue of our Blessed I )ntlirr "ill do. with a vase of flowers, either wild j 0r p.'ipl ii flowers will answer. Send your names I ii!l mrrrct addresses to Aunt Busy and you will j JPflr fr. in her. Lovingly, AUXT BUSY. j LETTERS AND ANSWERS. ; Salt Lake City, April 19. j i, m- Aunt Busy: 1 thought you said the sun 1 (IaiT-fl n Easter Sunday. 1 got up at 5 o'clock on J faster, find 1 never saw the sun dance, although 1 1 ioord lng time. Your fond nephew. THOMAS M. FITZGERALD. Aunt Busy said that when she was a little girl ihe Mi.-vrd the sun danced. "Read what she said nnrr m-. re. dear. .e still thinks that if you looked r.p rnouph you would decide that the sun was rcal-. rcal-. r vlanving. I " I TO DISPEL THE CLOUDS. I A laugh is just like sunshine, It freshens all the day. It tips the peak of life with light, And drives the clouds away; The snul grows glad that hears it, And feels its courage strong I A laugh is just like sunshine For cheering folk along! A lauch is just like music. It lingers in the heart. And where its melody is heard The ills of life depart; And the happy thoughts come crowding It joyful notes to greet A laueh is just like music For making living sweet ! Young Folks' Catholic Weekly. j KINDNESS TO DUMB ANIMALS. I The wagon was heavily laden with great bags of I niftal. too heavy for a single horse to draw, one I would have thought. j It turned into a side street and half way down h" block aerain turned into an alley at the rear of t livery stable. It required considerable tugging on ti' part of the horse to pull the load up the incline ::h alley driveway, but he did it. and the driver f '"A'-d pleard when the back wheels had made the j r-f and settled down to level ground. At the barn d-nr it was necessary to turn the wagon around completely and back in. Surely one horse could tint no that. The turn was made easily enough, but there remained. , "Rack him up, Jim!' said the man, pulling J liphtly .it the reins. 1 The horse braced his fore feet and shoved. The wagon didn't move. The man got down from "the seat and went j amund to the back of the truck and pulled. "Back!'' I lieeommsiided. The horse put every muscle to the strain. "Back!" The wagon moved, this time at 1 lrat h loot. Two more, and the back wheels would I lr ever the threshold of the barn door. I "Back!" The "command moved the horse to ex-I ex-I ' rt his greatest f.-ffort. There was a crunch of I wintering wood and the wagon rolled back. 1 Xot a blow had been struck the animal. Oniy j ?fmle words had been spoken, and the horse had I done the rc?t. I And when it was all over the man did not go on inloadiric the wagon without a further thought of 1 'no rreat, obedient animal standing still between I die shaft. lie went to him and took his nose in his I r.snas and patted him between the eyes and said: j "r"r'd old Jim! You did it, didn't you? I knew you xr,,uld." And the horse rubbed his nose against the man's j ! h n i If H-snt tiow and then to see such things. "a-ii'dio Calendar. , 1 THE MYSTERY OF THE WINDOW. I J i f y:nduv had often excited speculation in the ti.iid- of i;,iire sojourners in Green Forest, as the 1 1 tape failed. Of course, every man. woman fM hild in (ireen Forest knew it was there for vMary outlook into the world. But it was no 'ir.ur.,- ,t surprii ptrangers, for it was in the n.J T "', n n'r' nr'r-'k waH quite a quarter of a mile :i h -,v v.indow. just above the height of a tall ir.un s in rn0ct unexpected thing in that posi- "ir,!i. (,jr(u J r.'M was very much off the beaten J iS t v-i, to extraordinarily beautiful that one '.'ii:err.f iIP Tvorld did not come to sec it. But kept the sr-cluded paradise it was. hemmed " v ,N t-'ii r ii woods, save only where the .village ''iV tlfii to the mountain, by the fact that I tfn' " ' """" 1ne laud for miles around, and I C I l r,7;"T "f building nor grant leases of any j j,-'-'-- ry fow summer visitors could squeeze i.,r ' ,,:-r'r' u the tiny, red-roofed cottages or the I j,' 'r,v' '-'re-wed inn. Its narrow green lanes were il moior cars or any sort of big traffic. I r.v'.1' ,Ht a s,rfl-v cyclist represented the world J j1,'1" C'rrvn Forest. I r,;jl0;vr'v,''r" n ,fw lrd of the manor had come to at K, riiythde, five miles away, and had become j j-maMrr ilC bounds. Jlis name was Launcelot )''mr'v Ludlow, and his title was Lord kJ ' i:r'('crfJ bis uncle, who was a recluse, !r, iri';rr" ,rf,ubled himself about his neighbors, be-fi-lV"'1' aS! mi:rn f an oddity as Squire Beaton j 'f-) He had kept his heir at a distance, and so ., (,t'!nt new Lord Edgehill knew nothing at 1(.rf r Mary Beaton, who never stirred outside i!riin'm't vr" io to nurci' anj saw the 'dy from her window. f. v.fvr-r. o1)0 beautiful autumn morning he had v.(rt'''.:lv- ;iid had ridden with the hounds, who i-.j'jj,"2, '-wcised by the huntsman. The open-I'i'Iil- r,?1 Was,!lot far off. and the hounds were in the ovtr'T' '"''"'''fu. htieaming along the roads and ff-'en c.Mumoiis with all their tails wagging, s. in te&'W'' is , beautiful thn he greei1 Pe"cd out to dis- smoke htZrT16 V1'ew of the mountain. Blue "r new vli 'T' fr tllC fires IZ tl5 IV here .was a heayy dew on the grass, S ,wra9 morninB-fh and sweet, ami ful JorTat h o ?rtSrd S0Unds' AU the children , were at the cottage doors to see the dogs go by. of lrrifhlVLad,PflSS,ed thi9 orl on one lai a t' f hfd n!iced the bGaut? of the vil- 5 wSfci tferrioutf in6o7 Then, by the window, looked out with iauld interest"" he.rt li Gyffe11 n.hcr face- he started- nd bis boa,, fife? ? tO0i quickl'y- have sce st St 11 ln the7or1" he said to himself. In J fl 1 ?l S P!Ce f Timc his p.s "d those of the fonl.iaJLefWind0W h8d rnet' Tt SGemed s though some greeting some recognition had passed be- hI?nA He, hJ8d a Curious idea that the soul behind the eyes had spoken to him. had said, "So you are eome at last. You do not know how long I have been waiting for you." And he felt that his own must have answered, "T have been looking for you since my soul was made." t Then a hand came and drew a curtain. The window space was blank. And he rode on after the hounds. The huntsman. James Seeley. looked at him witli respectful interest as their horses came alongside once more. He was a Green Forest man. .'I our lordship was looking at, the window." he said. ; Many a one that passes bystopa to ask what the window is for.'' T "V?? a,".,?dd place to Put one. certainly." said i 1.0m i.agenui. Jie was anxious to hear what the huntsman could tell him. while oddly averse from, revea mg his curiosity about it. Xot for worlds would he have mentioned the ladv he had seen in the window. "Tis Miss Mary Beaton's window," said the huntsman '-She was born crippled-like, the onlv chiJd the Squire ever had, and a sore disappointment disappoint-ment to him that it wasn't a lad. She's never been outside the grounds of the court since she was born. " Lord Edgehill's heaft fell heavy as lead. jShe must be very badly crippled." be said. "Old Dr. Rowley used to say," the huntsman went on dispassionately, "that there was nothing when she was born but what might have been set right. But our Squire, he always was an odditv. Ilim and parson quqarreled long ago. He took up with them Faith Healers. 'Tis as likely as not it was the trougle of young madam's death when Miss Mary was born that put him a bit off his balance. To be sure. Miss Mary never walked. Like enough, she never would walk now, not if all the doctors were to their best." "But. good heavens!" said Lord Edgehill. furiously, fu-riously, "you don't mean to say-Jthat such things can happen here, so late in the world's history as this! Does no one interfere?" "I don't see, my lord, as any one would have a right to interfere." James Seeley spoke and thought with deliberation, and had a reputation for wisdom "seeing as how Squire Beaton quarreled with all his own sort years ago. And what right would villagers have to interfere, seeing as how every man here lives by consent of Squire Beaton ?" Lord Edgehill said something softly under his breath. It might have shocked that staunch conservative. con-servative. James Seeley. if he had heard it. unless, indeed, his wisdom had made him put it down to the immaturity of his lordship's youth. "So he keeps his only child a prisoner." Lord Edgehill said, "tied to her sofa day after day. What abiminable cruelty!" "Xot in a manner of speaking tied to her sofa." James Seeley said, flicking his whi, with gentle deliberation at Vixen, one of his best hounds, who was inclined tr wander. "Xor yet cruel, my lord, as Squire eBaton sees it. He idolizes Miss Mary. Everything that money can buy he spends on her. The gardens of the court they do say are finer than any gardens ever seen; and Miss Mary and. her nurse, Mrs. Goodwin, can drive all day when the weather serves, but only through the grounds of the place. To be sure, the Squire has a good many thousand acres, park land and forest land. They do say Miss Mary is content, and Squire Beaton loves her to distraction." (To be continued.) All babes and young children should have their . frocks made high in the neck with long sleeves during dur-ing the cold part of the year. If short sleeves are allowed in summer, they ought to come nearly to. the elbow, as any cold or chill may be only too easily' eas-ily' conveyed from the upper part of the arm to the chest, and children cannot be healthy and well unless un-less they are thoroughly and comfortably protected against draughts and sudden changes of temperature. |