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Show v SiS0 BY Aunt Busy) 1 :i vms. vy' iwiMol .MP;--'A DIRECTIONS FOB, LETTER WRITING. WRIT-ING. Write on one side of paper only. Do not have letters too long. Address sill letters to "Aunt Busy,") Intennoun'tain Catholic. j ! Ogden Utah, Jan 21, 1900. j Dear Aunt l?usy: ! As my mamma takes The Intermoun- i tain Catholic, and seeing a letter writ-' ten by a former schoolmate Robbie j Dorsey. We used to so Sister Eileen I :it Saint Joseph"? school. 1 now go to! 'the Sacred Heart Academy in Sister I Eileen's room. I wish she would always be my teacher as long as I go to school. I love her dearly. With love to you I am your loving: neice. C, EXE VI EVE M'CARDLC. I J'.utte, Mont., Jan. 11. 1900. 1 Dear Aunt l?usy: I hope you are well. I like to go to school. We play house when it is not old. I wonder if you know who I am. 1 am a little girl in the L5 second grade. I got a story book for a Christmas present. I will write soon again. j . From your loving niece. ! MA RLE SHIXXICK. Salt Lake City, Jan. 16. 1000. Dear Aunt Husy: . I am a little boy, "who did not go h:ms for Christmas, but stayed at the school and played billiards. One night when was points I bet a little boy live marbles I'd win in five minutes! He ; won but I got the marbles, i Your loving nephew, ' LARMAS TOMKIX. (How did you get them, Larmas? Aunt Busy.) SaltLake, Jan. 16, 1300. . Dear Aunt Busy: I 1 am very glad to come back to the i college. I had a very nice time Christ- i mas and I got a great deal of nice pres- i ints. My sister eavp n-.p n invoiv i.,-rL- j the name of it is a Boy Trooper. 1 I hope you had a merry Christmas and a ha pjn- new years. (Jood bye. I think j 1 have said enough for the present, i Your loving nephew, WILLIE CARR, Age 10. Hamilton, Xev., Jan. 8, 1900. Dear Aunt Busy: As I never saw in the Children's Page a letter from the state of Xevada, I thought 1 would write one'. I am 12 years old and 1 have a little brothrr .'! years old. I never went to school until un-til last summer ami then I went from the ;;rd of April to the 1'i'nd of September. Septem-ber. For Christmas I got a new sled, a breast pin a shirt waist set, pink,' blue, and yellow ribbon. &ome ' handkerchiefs, hand-kerchiefs, a pair of gloves, a new dres and a. braid clasp. My little brother wh'..se name is Edward, got an expre-s wagon. a rocking horse, a ball, a toy nam and a tin horse. I like to read the Jit tie l,-tt'r: in ; h? Intermountain Cath-i Cath-i one Well, as I do not wish mv letter to be too long. I will eloss wishing you "A Happy Xew Year." Your loving niece, MARGARET M'ELLIX. Hamilton, Xev. i THE WRITING LESSON. i . Uly Mary West.) ' j "I pWrtf' stroke downward stroke" i'"ii- litth- li Hirers: Hither ;.nl thitlier-now wift and now S:i"Wy. civ.-r ami over a pansc now ami then. i "1 ;a:! strok downward stroke" i !"ini lot',.-. tins, r-s.' i T'J' i',r f,nc uivv 1,J"t onc stroke to X.-,? W'f-l! what matter? 'twill bp all the j oi-tw-r, After this tiresome letter is written. j 'Tpvvard stroke"' tarry the fair little i Hark. has she ht.nrd a faint note of a i I'i:sh; 'tis his mate from her bower re- plying, j LiM'-n. just listen, and breathe rot a j word. Ah! there's a blot-Oh, the blundering 1 timrers! j And what! ;- tear? to make mad mat- tots Wril, X'-xt vmnrt shower comes down to n-frosh es. Now wo are ready again to rehearse. """'"'"i'i mmikc jaiier tne tired lit tlii linKi-rs. T ")'"'' VU'''" brcaks for'ln slumtcr- Ti." oer's laid aside and the lesson is iinishod: Lik'- a!l life's lessons it ends in a sleep. i':-.':m on. wen woman wee woman of 'tiers! i Wi'.; tiie liir, calls and rnatc sends re-' )r"' ' ,' '" ' r"';' toi:ch their sweet choir shall answer! J sa.'-ii sob throbbinff music shall si.uh. At your pen's touch, little woman of let-tls. let-tls. De ds vhall resj)ond and soft showers deseeiHl. "I'pward stroke downward strokr " at its sweet rhythm. J'lowers shall ope whispering zephyrs attend. Hosts that are marching to battlefields tfory. ""..'.'J, lo ynur nill:'ic. child-dreamer joi.is is to hearten the. world with their glory. y,);j is to woo them from history's Yon shall search souls shall touch bruised hearts with healing. Blend sons and sermon with' subtlest art. Bice from their fetters the deep founts of feeling. ld douht and fear from the stricken depart. de-part. "I'pward stroke downward stroke" tired little lingers. One day shall waken the power of vour pen. . ' ' ";!! Vf'i! ,1roam on- wop 'man of let-DOitn let-DOitn "l,tl" I,0tt' lrc'"rrl' dream on till WISHING, i By 1011a Whoeler Wilcox.) Do you wis!: the world were lKHter' Jet mo tell you what to do. Set a watch upon your actions. Keep thein always straight and true. Jvirt your moid of selfish motives , )-et your thoughts be clean and high ion an mako a little Edm ' Of the sphere you Occupy. Do you wish the world were wiser? Y ell. suppose you make a start ij accumulating wisdom ; in the scrap-book of your heart j D not waste one page on folly; Live to loam, anl learn to live if you want to give men knowledge , 1 ou must get it, ere you give. Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by dav Just to scatter seeds: of kindness As you pass along the wav. I-or the pleasures of the many -May be oftentimes traced to ono, As the hand that plants an acorn Shelters armies from the sun. A LONG TIME AGO. Once on a time oh. so long ago. When all the world was voung, The sea was made of lemonade. And the land of chewing gum. 1 he births were built of peppermint. And lived in sugar trees. And there were no arithmetics ; Or slates or geug-a-phrees! A little boy and little girl ! Ruled as king ami queen They put the old folks into jail Whenever they were mean: And then the boys would plav all day And stay out in the rain. And never swallowed horrid stuff For no one had a pain; And no one had to brush his hair, Or ever wear a hat : Oh, how I wish I'd only Jived In such a time as that! SIX THINGS A BOY OUGHT TO I KNOW. j 1. That a quiet voice, courtesy and kind acts are as essential to tne part in the ! world of a gentleman as a gentle woman, i 4 That roughness, blustering ind even foolhardiness are not manliness. The , most tirm and courageous men have usually usu-ally been the most gentle. 3. That the muscular strength is not health. 4. That the brain crammed with facts is not neces.-arily a wise one. 5. That the labor impossible to the boy of 14 will be easy to the man of 20. 6. That the best capital for a boy is not money, but the love of work, simple tastes and a heart loyal to his friends I and his God. j KEEP TO THE RIGHT. "Keep to the right," is the law of the road Make it a law of your moral cade; Jn whatsoe'er you determine to do. J-vdIow the road of the Good and the True; Follow and tear not; by day and by night L"p hill or down hill, '"keep to the right." Doubt will assail you, temptation will Woo "Keep to the right," for ie right is the true; Dou'k is a traitor; temptation a shame; A heart that is honest, a life without blame, Will rank you far higher, in worth and renown. Than the grandest of kings, with his sceptre and crown. "Kee? to the right." in the journey of life. There is crowding and jostling, trouble and strife; The weak will succumb to the bold and strong; And many go under and many go wrong; Ho will acquit himself best in the fight Who shirks not his duty and "keeps to the right." "Keep to the right," and the Right will kO; you In touch and accord with the Good and the True; These are the best things in life, after all. They make it worth living, whatever befall. be-fall. And Dea,th has not terrors, when he comr-s in sight. For the man who determines to "keep to the right." Charles W. Hubner. A LITTLE CRY IN THE NIGHT. (Rosary Magazine.) A little cry in th night, And fainter still at the dawn. And the shadows creep then edless sleep. Before the day is gone. A littlo cry in the night. So weak and yet so clear: Full many a day has- passed away And yet that cry I hear. That little cry in the night-Wit night-Wit h the pleading eyes of blue Wondering why. with their little cry, They must live and suffer, too. Must suffer and then must sleep. Though their day had just iwrgun A little pain, then night again. And their little task undone. A little cry in the night A cloar, sweet voice at oven: 'My little cry was just good-bye, I'm waiting for you in heaven." THE RESCUE OF PIT-A-PAT AND PETERKIN. Pit-a-pat opened one round blue eye, and yawned a round pink yawn. Then she opened the other eye, and yawned again. Then she blinked vigorously with both of them, and stretched out one dainty fore paw, then the other. Then she arose, performed several Del-I Del-I sartean exercises, gave her little gray-jacket gray-jacket a few settling touches with -her pink tongue, and administered to Brother Peterkin a gentle and gingerly-cuff. gingerly-cuff. Whereupon Peterkin went through precisely the same motions. But the paws he s-trelched out were as 'black as Mistress Mary's shoes; and so were his other paws, and his whole suit, in fact. Then they glanced toward the window. win-dow. Oh, joy! What they had been longing for ever since Mintress Mary adopted them was a chance to get on that window sill, and see what they could see. But wise Mi3tres-s Mary had perceived their thoughts, or else she had great wisdom concerning kittens in general. (1 forgot for-got to tell you that Pit-aPat and Peterkin Pe-terkin are kittens. Did you guess?) So she kept the curtains tucked up beyond their reach, and they were too wee to climb up the wall or spring to the sill, j But now! One curtain had been I loosened by the brisk breeze, and was sweeping the carpet, while the other fluttered gayly forth from the window. "Mip!" quota the two little kits in unison, and started toward the window (aHo in unisxin). Which reached it iirst I cannot say. Neither can I tell you which proposed swinging on the curtain outside. I only know that Mistress Mary, hieing hie-ing her homeward,- with a bottle of cream (to make them purr and purr and purr), glanced upward to her window, win-dow, and saw a little coal black kit clinging desperately to the end of a curtain; while a little Quaker-gray kit was clasDing her little white arms tightly around the little black kit's waiat (if kits have waists), while her little gray tail waved wildly, and her fuzzy little "back legs" (as Polly calls them) dangled forlornly in space all from a third-story window! "Meow'w!" "Meooowww!" quoth they. At least, it sounded so to me. j But Mistress Mary states that Peter was saying, "Hold on tight to big brother, Patty!" while Patty gasped back. "Yes, Brother Peter, I will." Mistress Mary flew up the stairs, and in a twinkling those frightened little I explorers were safe on her shoulder, I wmere they clung trembling, and poking pok-ing their cold little noses into the soft folds of her newest and most fetching necktie, while she poured out a brimming brim-ming saucer of cream by way of discipline. disci-pline. But whether they promised never to do so any more, or whether they ever will do so any more, I cannot say, for Mistreas Mary has not yet given them another chance. Christian Register. POLLY'S PKAXKS. Polly was a small gray African parrot par-rot and the pet of the household. Carlo, a little pet dog, was a special favorite of hers. When Polly had a tidbit given her, she always called in a very loud and impatient tone: "Carlo! Carlo! Where's the dog?" And Carlo would instantly respond, with a sharp, little bark, and scamber to Polly, who never failed to drop him a bit of her dainty. Polly waa never confined in her cage: she had the freedom of both house and yard and never showed any desire to go away. At sun down, she invariably went into her cage, the door of which 1 was always open. j Early every morning, as soon as the odor of coffee pervaded the house, she would cry lustily: "Polly wants her coffee! Give Polly her coffee!" Thia ."he kept up, until a small cup of I sweetened coffee was given her. She had this "coftee' habit" when we got her. i nave never seen a parrot that talked talk-ed so much, or that imitated the human hu-man voice so well as his own. We had a neighbor who I am afraid led her husband an unhappy life. Every morning morn-ing he left the house hastily, and always al-ways said, as he clapped his hat on his head and fled from the house: "There She goes again! What a scold!" This wast all the unhappy man Avas ever known to say in reply to his wife's fault-finding. One of Polly's favorite places was on a balcony, just above our neighbor's neigh-bor's window. The houses being so j close together, of course the parrot j soon picked up the words. "There sihe goes again! What a scold! Wrhat a i s-cold!" shouted Polly, every time the wretched woman came in view, at door or window. Sometimes there were variations, and Polly would sigh a funny little sigh, and groan out: "What-an-awful-scold!" The woman's life soon became a burden bur-den to her, but I believe Polly was the cause of that family getting along better for after she "took up the quarrel" the "other folks" stopped it. When Polly came to us she was suffer- mS vwi.li kuui. ner lormer master led her too highly, and her poor feet were so swollen she could scarcely stand upon up-on them. She had no ugly trick, -as some parrots have, such as biting and scratching. Every morning, therefore, we bathed her feet in warm soapsuds. It was a long time before the disorder yielded to treatment, and in that time Polly learned some of the habits and speeches of those in her new home. If we were a little late in bathing the sore feet, of a morning, she would raise first one foot, and then the other, looking look-ing at each a long time, and saying to herself in a low, plaintive tone: "I'm sorry for Polly. Poor little Polly!" Finding she had attracted our attention, atten-tion, she would say coaxingly: "Wash Poll's feet now now now!" This she always followed up immediately immedi-ately with her good but impatient master's mas-ter's daily remark: "Why can't I ever have things done as I wish?'' Then Polly would get furious and shriek: "Why? Why? Why?" until her feet were bathed. One day the 14-year-old daughter of ! the house retired to her room to stud v. Her mother had gone out, and only I Kitty, the servant girl, who was in the kitchen, and herself, were in the house , She was deep in her studies when her mother's voice calling: "Margaret, Margaret! Come here at once!" caused her to run down stairs hastily, wondering won-dering at her mother's' speedy return. "Where'g mother, Kitty?" she asked of the girl. "Gone out," replied Kitty. "Mar-ga-ret, oh, Mar-ga-ret!" said Polly, in a voice very like that of her mistress. We lived in Philadelphia then, anei Quakers in broad-brimmed hats frequently passed. The children often remarked when one came in sight: "There comes a Quaker. You can. te'ii them by their hats." We were shocked one day by Polly shouting, loud and shrill: "There comes a Quaker! Shoot the hat!" When cold weather came we fre-quently fre-quently said to the small boy who left ' the doors open regularly: "Shut the door, little goose!" A bleak day the minister (he was a new one) came into the store. The door failed to latch, as he pushed it shut, and as he took his seat by the warm stove it Hew wide open. He was very much sctartled when a harsh voice shouted in his ear: "Shut the door goose!" which he did promptly, to our mutual iiioriincaiion. One morning the milkman stole a fmall silver spoon. Polly saw him When Kitty came in the parrot cried' "He's got it! He's got it." "Got wliat?" asked the girl. "Silver," shouted Polly. The man was so frightened that he returned the spoon, on condition he should not be arrested. |
