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Show ! ...our Boys and Girls... J; EDITED BY AUNT BUSY. I This department 18 conducted solely la the later, its or our girl and boy readera. Aunt Busy Is triad to hear any tiros Jrom the I ,.ces and nephews who read this pat, and to girt I them all the adtvloe and helD in her power. I w Write on one side of the paper n!y. ft Do not have letters too Ion. Ij Orlpl"8-1 trSes and v"aea will be fladly received ! and carefully edited. fi The manuscripts or contributions not accepted win I u returned. Address all letters to Aunt Busy. IntermountaJa I ftho!le. Bait Lake City. " DON'T ANGELS NEED DOLLIES TO PLAY? s Oh, dear, I'm so tired of waiting, f Up here in the dust and the cold ; I Why doesn't Blue Bell come and take me I And play like she used to of old ? I I'm ure if she knew where they placed me I She'd ask God to take me away, Ar.d not keep me waiting and waiting : Don't angels need dollies to play I Just once did they take me to see her, And put me beside her in bed ; And oh, how she kissed me and hugged mo, And nestled me close to her head. That night while the whole world was sleeping And angels came down from the sky, To take her, she kissed me and whispered : "Good-bye, dearest dolly, good-bye." And here from my seat at the window, j I see where they've hid her to rest; To sleep in thecold and the starlight, f With no doll to press to her breast. : ' Oh God, if there's room for this dolly, Please come quick and take me away, f I'm so tired waiting and waiting: I Don't angels need dollies to play? Will P. Snyder. I A BRAVE DEED. (By B. De La Fontaine.) ; It was in the year 1797, when France, though freed from the Reign of Terror by the death of Fobespierre, still groaned under the laws made by the Jacobins. A priest was coming! The whis-ppred whis-ppred message had gone forth; and, in answer to : the summons, misty forms could be seen hurrying : toward the little hamlet of Saint-Maurice. One by - one they came, though the dew still lay thick on :. flower and hedge; and each one, as he reached the hamlet, looked cautiously round, before entering the house where, in defiance of all edicts, Mass was , to be celebrated. The Mademoiselles de Gagniere, who owned the house, were well known in the country round for their piety and charity. Their mother, Madame de Gagniere, had been arrested and condemned to death some years previously for harboring a priest. Yet these brave girls Sophie, the eldest, was only teventeen turned one of the upper rooms into a rhapel, where the Blessed Sacrament was kept and ilass celebrated whenever a priest succeeded in Eluding the vigilance of the gendarmes. On this particular Sunday morning one was expected ex-pected a venerable old priest, who long since had made the sacrifice of his life and led a precarious existence, hiding now here, now there; but, though hunted from place to place, consoling the persecuted perse-cuted and bringing many back to the Faith they had lost. The room which served as a chapel was soon rrowded; and, while watch was kept in the street lelow, the Holy Sacrifice was offered, the low voice if the priest and the answering treble of the acolyte clone breaking the silence. At the Domine, non Him dignus, peasant and nobleman advanced side by side to receive the Lord of Hosts; then, after a hurried thanksgiving, the congregation began to disperse. The priest soon followed; leaving the fcisters to efface all traces of the recent gathering, jr But. though the congregation had succeeded in dispersing unmolested, danger threatened the pious household; for while the crowd melted away and the little room was restored to its usual state, four pendarmes were starting out from Saint-Just-d'Avray, a large village, from which a good view i could be had of the. tiny hamlet in the valley. As they rode down the hill, their suspicions were aroused by the large number of persons issuing from Saint-Matinee; and, after consulting together, tliey determined to search the house which formed the center of the unusual movement. On being admitted by a rather scared-looking maid, the gendarmes proceeded to search the premises. prem-ises. The lower rooms, however, revealed nothing; but when they reached the upper floor they found themselves confronted by a door which was locked. "Why is this in demanded one of the men. I ''Open at once!' "If you please, sir," said the girl, "ihe room is fi ldrim user, and the key is not at hand." She spoke with such an air of sincerity that the men were about to retire, when a telltale odor of in-ensp in-ensp came from beneath the closed door. On observing ob-serving this, the leader thrust the girl aside with .an oath, and. assisted by his companions, broke epen the door. The small chamber thus revealed looked innocent inno-cent enough; but a few minutes' search brought to hpht a tiny lamp which usually hung before the Ulessfd Sr.crament, and which still smoked, having h"( n extinguished only when the alarm was first piveu. Shortly afterward one of the men drew i'-r'h from its place of concealment a golden pyx containing several consecrated Hosts. With an exultant ex-ultant cry, the man thrust his prize into a bag which he carried, nnd, with his companions, left the room. It would be impossible to describe the feelings ihe unhappy women who thus saw the Treasure committed to their care in the hands of these godless god-less men. Sophie especially was inconsolable. As she ptnod listening to the tramp of the horses be-a be-a farmers wife came hurrying up, all out of bn-nh. "Mademoiselle." she exclaimed, "the gendarmes are going to the Lion d'Or, a mile up the road, and thf,y have slung their travelling bags across their saddl,'.. 0 Mademoiselle, do you think we could ?"t it back again f Sophie understood the woman's meaning, and caught eagerly at her suggestion. In a few min-' min-' uus s)e ja(j exchanged her ordinary dress for a peasant's costume, and had set out on her desperate xPedition, accompanied by the farmer's wife. The : ",1Jt was slowly rising as they hurried along, now turough hedges covered with brambles, now through golden cornfields waving in the morning j hroezo. The damp earth clung to their stout leather boots, and overhead larks filled the air with liquid I fcotes. But Sophie heeded neither the song of the hirds nor the signs of the coming day; she was con-I con-I turned with the desire of rescuing the Blessed Sac- anient from the sacrilegious hands into which it j ad fallen. In the courtyard of the Lion d'Or Sophie met ! the innkeeper's youngest daughter. "Tiere are the horses, little one V t "In the stables, Mademoiselle." j "Then listen! Bun in and tell your father to f 'ppply his guests with as much wine as they de-j de-j ire I win pay the bill "Yes, Mademoiselle," replied the child, with a bright smile that promised well for the success of the message. The two women now ran to the stables and began be-gan to search the traveling bags. Sophie's delicate fingers tugged and strained at the hard straps. Would she get at the contents in time? In the taproom tap-room the men were laughing and talking loud. . At ' any moment they might come out and find her surrounded sur-rounded by their scattered possessions. Suddenly a door slammed! Sophie, utterly unnerved, un-nerved, sprang to her feet. But it proved a false alarm, and she returned to the search, chiding her- i self for her cowardice. Desperately she once more set to work, though she trembled at every sound. The return of the innkeeper's daughter increased her alarm. "They are coming!" she cried, dancing in her ecxitement. "The gendarmes are coming! They are all standing up ready to go." Happily, at this moment the farmer's wife gave a cry of joy. "I have it! Quick, Mademoiselle! Let us escape es-cape while we can." In a trice the two women had slipped out of the stables and were flying down the road. Not a moment mo-ment too soon. The gendarmes, coming out of the inn, caught sight of their vanishing figures and, at once divining their purpose, set out in pursuit, with many an oath and threat. Happily for the women, a bend in the road soon concealed them from sight; and, taking advantage of this fortunate circumstance, they ran down a narrow path and, turning into a cornfield, threw themselves down among the sheaves. Scarcely were they hidden when the gendarmes came in pursuit; but the fields of corn stretched in every direction, safely concealing the fugitives. The baffled gendarmes gen-darmes finally went back to the stables, thus enabling en-abling the women to continue their flight. At the entrance to a wood the two decided to separate. While the farmer's wife, who carried the pyx, sought concealment in the trunk of a hollow tree, Sophie started for home in order to warn her sisters. Now that the Blessed Sacrament was safe, she saw more clearly the danger to which she had exposed her family. She scarcely dared to think what might be their fate, should the gendarmes arrive ar-rive before her. Spurred on by her anxiety, she flew along, across stubby fields and marshy meadows, mea-dows, until the little white house came in view. To warn her sisters was the work of a moment, and in a remarkably short spacet of time the inmates in-mates of the house had escaped into the woods lying at the back of the house. Scarcely had they departed, when the gendarmes arrived, to find an empty house, and only one old woman who stoutly refused to answer their questions. The Mademoiselles de Gagniere took refuge with a woodcutter and his wife, who, as it happened, were already sheltering the priest. And before long a new recruit was added to the little party; for at nightfall the peasant woman made her way to the little hut, where, with tears of emotion, the old priest took from her hands the pyx and heard the story of their brave deed. A week had passed by, during which the fugitives fugi-tives had scarcely dared to leave their place of concealment, con-cealment, when an unforeseen event made it safe for them to return to their homes. The gendarmes who had laid sacrilegious hands on the Blessed Sacrament Sac-rament were murdered on the high road by a band of robbers. Xot long afterward, too, came the reassuring re-assuring news that the Eevolution was at an end, the Directoire having given place to the Consulate; and Bonaparte, by his proclamation of the "Liberie "Li-berie des Cultes," soon brought priest and faithful flocking back to their deserted parishes. THE CHOIR BOY. Wherever there is a Sunday school -and a train of altar boys, methinks if they heard the following true story, some souls might be brought to the Master, Mas-ter, aud a little child would lead them. About two years ago, while my choir boys were standing in the sacristy, waiting for services to begin, be-gin, I noticed for several Sunday evenings a little fellow about 12 years of age looking in at the open door, and wistfully and earnestly watching the train of red cassocks and white surplices that were ready to march into the sanctuary. "Who is that boy?" I asked on the third Sunday evening. "Father, he's a Protestant. He is Charlie X." I looked around, but Charlie had disappeared. However, How-ever, the next Sunday night he was there, and when I went toward him he stood, his ground like a man. His big blue eyes, widened when I spoke pleasantly pleas-antly to him. "I am glad to see you, Charlie. Do you like to watch the choir boys?" "Yes, sir." And an unspoken wish shone on his face. He was a bright, manly-looking lad, and I was pleased with his appearance. After a moment, during which he never took his eyes from my face, he said: "Could I be a choir boy?" "But you don't believe in the Catholic Church, Charlie f" "Won't you give me a chance, Father?" The words and the lad's earnest face made a deep impression upon me. I turned away to look up a spare cossack and surplice in the wardrobe, but the boy mistook my movement for a refusal, and was turning slowly and sadly away when I called him. "Yes, my boy, I will give you a chance; put these on," and I helped him. No king robed in ermine could have been more grave, more reverent, than this boy, when, fully equipped in cassock and surplice and hymn book in hand, he stood beside a companion in the middle of the lines. "Now, do as the other boys do," I whispered, as the train started into the sanctuary. I watched him from the door. lie was reverent and attentive, even surpassing his Catholic companions in respectful devotion, listening breathlessly to every word that fell from the lips of the priest who preached the evening sermon. Sunday night we have sermons of a doctrinal nature, followed by benediction. Every Sunday evening he was there, and the boys never once referred to his being a Protestant, at least in my hearing. One evening he lingered after the boys said good-night. "Well, Charlie," I said, "tired of being a choir boy?" How he looked at me! "Oh, Father! No, indeed. But, Father, may I be a Catholic??' I put my arm around him I couldn't help it, the little face was so serious. "Certainly, my son. But your parents must be consulted and give consent." con-sent." "Why, Father, I brought them to - church every Sunday to see me in my choir clothes, and mother says she would be glad if I were good enough to be a Catholic." I inquired his address, and I went to see his parents soon after this. I found they were unbap-tized unbap-tized Protestants, and, of course, not one of the six children had ever been baptized. I talked about Charlie and found both parents were not only willing to see Charlid instructed and baptized, but wished the same for themselves and the rest of the household. The end is soon told. I instructed the little apostle and his father and mother and baptized them and all the brothers and sisters, eight in all. He was soon confirmed and made his first Communion, and then encouraged encour-aged and helped the rest. All are now fervent converts, con-verts, and the little choir boy still is Been each Sunday Sun-day in the sanctuary, rejoising in his new-found treasure of faith and lifting his innocent heart in prayer. Who knows but some day he may stand on the altar steps and breaks the Bread of the World to starving souls who are yearning for just such an apostle? Friends, pass on this true story. Perhaps somewhere some-where there may be another father and mother who need "a little child to lead them." Selected. RING A-ROUND A-ROSEY. "Ring a-round a-rosey" In the early hours, "King a-round a-rosey" Down among the flowers. Playing uncomplaining By the pansy beds, The cherry blossoms raining On their golden heads. "Ring a-round a-rosey" Faint and fainter still, "Ring a-round a-rosey" Singing up the hill; Little morning-glories, As I listen long, Sweet and strange old stores Tremble through your song. "Ring a-round a-rosey" In their night caps now, "Ring a-round a-rosey," Prayers are mumbled low, And leaning over near them They move their lips it seems. Till I can almost hear them Singing in their dreams. Mounce Byrd. |