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Show j jar Boys and CSitK, I EDITED BY AUNT BUSY. ! Th!s department Is conducted 60lely In the Inter 4 rf our prirl and boy readers. I 5Aunt Busy is plad to hear any time from th 1 ,.s jind nephews who read this pare, and to glra I hpni"an the advice and help in her rower. I ' ' VTrite on one 6lde ot the PaPer only. Do not have letters too Ion. ' oripinal stories and verses will be gladly received I ind carefully edited. jhe manuscripts of contributions not accepted will ; ie turned. f Address a!' letters to Aunt Busy. Intel-mountain Prissy's Talent. "And rripcilla?" visitors always said after ad-! ad-! mi'inr vra's beautiful needle work and Edgar's ' p-npt'l-rvinp: and Helen's remarkable playing on 1 fhr fhiv.o, "What is Priseilla's talent?" -J'riy- Oh, Prissy doesn't seem to have any (jilcr.t." Mrs. Tvobb would answer with a smile. "She jj. jn?.t -n food. all-round, comfortable girl, aren't roii. rrissy? She doesn't care for the piano nor I Rawing nor pinging nor any of the things other ri nw We like her best just as she is." j rri---y always smiled back into the fond eyes, : in her heart there was alwaj-s a little pain. : Xobody, not even her mother, knew how she had i patiently fingered the piano hoping to draw out lP v.ondi if ul music that seemed to be at the tip I Pf llr-Ws white fingers, and no one realized how ;! F;ir watched and tried to copy the embroidery that I ?o easy for Myra. She had plenty of time to 1 trv many things, as she had few home duties, but, f fonirW-. she never learned to do anything well. ' Even in srhool she never ranked with the good ; Foliolar. and often the teacher classed her with i that discouraging minority termed in every school-; school-; j room "Below the average." If Mr. and Mrs. Robb wre discouraged about their plain, little 14-year- ! (,H daughter, they never mentioned the fact, but tried to make her feel that she was just as pre-I pre-I ciou? to them as any of the rest. Whenever she could escape to the kitchen from I rupfts and their praises of the rest of the fam- iiy. rrissy did so. She was not jealous of her tal- I fiited brothers and sisters, but merely discouraged. I The cook good-naturedly allowed her to dabble j jwsy at her messes, not knowing that Prissy was " iine her best to learn fancy cooking, and Prissy i found her failures in the cooking line more soothing sooth-ing than the conversation of people who were for-i for-i ever wondr-ring why there should be an ugly duck- I hp among so many swans Tear? rolled down into the chunky icing as Pris-f Pris-f cilia tried to spread it on the broken cake before' her. "I'll never even learn cooking," she said to i ? herself, looking over to the pantry shelf where j 4 Jlyra's cake stood in-all its glory waiting for the I i picnic next day. ihe sight ot that cake had fired I I Frisky. ad she waited till the cook was away to I trv her hand at the very same recipe. 'I know I'll si he a dunce all my life." j "Prissy, please fry my fish for me," begged eight- ! year-old Fred, appearing at the door with some tiny specimens from the brook. "You fry fish just dandy;" Prissy hesitated. A great army of kettles and ; par.? stood before her, and she had them all to . wash before supper time, but Fred loved fried fish, j i so she took them in hand. ''I'd like some fried I apples, too," said Fred, who always wanted the mnst unheard of combinations. "I always like fried apples and fish together," Prissy stirred up the fire and presently Fred s was contentedly eating the fish, burnt in places, I I and the underdone apples. "I tell you. Prissy, f vou're the dandy cook!" he said proudly. "When I pet big I'm going to have a house for just you j i'.ad me. Cook won't ever let me muss up her I i kitchen, but you would." Somehow his honest praise hurt Priscilla more J i than anything else. She knew Fred, with his keen ! eve; and bright mind, would discover her deficien- ; nes very soon, and then her one admirer would be , j 'dent. She was grateful to the family for never s rir.parii.g her with talented people, but every per- I fin likes praise, and Prissy seldom received any. ' j "I'm never going to try anything again! Xrver!" said Priscilla, bitterly, as she dug at the i . cned egg; on the mixing bowl. She had neglected . ; t put water into the bowl after turning out the ; T'liks of the eggs and it seemed to the tired girl thst she might as well scrape at the glazing of the err.rk iwf. $1C iaf a roaring fire, and the sticky t:h seemed to be in mountain piles before her. j "I nipht have more sense than to think I could I fTr accomplish anything. I'm just a dunce, and J d! be ;dl my days." " I ...',f'r Ta things were much easier for Pris- ; cua. If jr. cook asked her to peel potatoes or cr-at up sr. me ctrtrs while she hid from company in Jap kitrhen. she did it cheerfully, but she no longer- i 'vrifi fit cook books and mixed and baked to tarn to cook. Once in a while she sat down at riano to drum out one of the tunes she had I jnnM si hard over, but she no longer worked at S I it with t'v expectation of succeeding, nor did she j flt'ble in needlework and painting on the sly. She i' rcf-nor-d ,,T stockings and did the few tasks in Sf"'v".? ,rr mother gave her to do. but she was ':rif- .-he Wnt toshrdlu shrdlu shrdlu cmfwyppp ""frly without ambition. When vacation time ) "-nie. she vent to visit Aunt Priscilla, and one day, r. fic, '"'' cat under the big maple on the lawn, she ; T"fi tl:f!t sympathetic lady her troubles. I "Ai d there in't a single thing that you care id Aunt Priscilla. . V'- 'ke. to do a great many things," said f r:-c!j;i. "hut not as the others do. I've worked 1.3 rr, f,,r hours to make cakes and embroider and I 'y ;:r.d ;.,ts of other things,' but I simply can't do "r'h. I di.n't know. Yes, I do, too. I got the ; j ':.!':. ;,, ji(lW ni0 vhen they had time, because they '' ii ':'' i,e bothered when they were busy. Helen ; Y'r'''"' ;be piano certain hours, and often when she ' ,;:i-c it the bnby is sleeping, so I used to I ia" ' 1 ri: T jrot the chance. You see it didn't ; &.':e !;;lV difference about me, for they knew I f"jU,r:?, : , iini anyway." ; , "'il." said Priscilla. "I wouldn't worry a bit j Mejnjr i?icnted this summer. I'd just enjoy (,r. nd next fall try very hard at my lessons. vv,r( n,,r.fs cverydav people more than talented anyway." , , "b' y-m rray think so?" asked Priscilla, eager-' eager-' "I always thoueht mamma said that to con-I con-I s'1" me. h-.fause I am so stupid." I All s nnmer Priscilla enjoyed herself with her nable junt. and both were sorry -when school- 1;'r- f.'imc. They sewed together under the trees, j ''Y'd together in the big kitchen, read and walked I talked together like an elder sister and a j,m?,'r till Priscilla forgot all about her for-I for-I '""idition and blossomed out wonderfully. , ' 'i must have had a good time, dear," said ',,,? I'bbb. kissing Prissy, when she came home. k0 missed you very much, and are glad to have Jou back. I intended to have a little feast to cele- , brate your return, but cook has been gone a wek. and we have been quite busy." 'Til get the supper, mamma," said Priscilla, as a visitor came in. All her old timidity came back 7" inc? more in the familiar sitting- m?A ? S18-lt f ,Myra's embroidery and the new music on the piano brought her to herself-her old Prilf-i'S ' &ldlQ longed t0 cscaPe' At Aunt no pTano! n embroidery frame and At six the family gathered round the table, and every one remarked about the delicious biscuits, the fine steak the apple sauce and the baked notatoes. Mamma, this makes me wish the cook would never tome back," said Mr. Robb, taking his fourth bis- r never ate a better meal." i rn-SSy ?oked the supper," said Mrs. Robb. "It is delicious. -r "Inf Tj is " Said IIelen' heartily. "Professor Burkett told a girl in the class the other day that it showed more talent to bake good biscuits than to play the piano fairly well. How did you learn to ? ?uim 16 Cookinff line in one summer?" n . 1 011. know very much about cooking," said Priscilla Avith a beating heart. "Auntie let me stav with her whenever she cooked, but she never tried to teach me. At least she never said anything any-thing about it." The members of the family exchanged glances, and after supper, when Priscilla drew from the dainty workbag Aunt Priscilla had mad her a bit of needlework, there were more exclamations. "That is the very latest thing in hand trimming," said Myra, looking at the work critically. "Prissy, you do beautiful work." "That!' cried bewildered Prissy. "She didn't say anything except that she had some nice, easy work for me to try. She said I could trim an apron with it for somebody's Christmas." i.An(i 1 dn,t suPPse sne ever told you you bothered her when you borrowed her scissors," and said you took up her valuable time, and that it wasn't any use to try unless you had a gift for such things, did she?" asked Helen, with a look of sudden sud-den intelligence in her eyes. "Xo, she never said anything like that. She made me this work-bag, and filled it with all sorts of useful things, and now I don't have to borrow from anybody." "Aunt Priscilla is a very wise woman," said Mrs. Robb, kissing the eager face. "I imagine if she had our Priscilla a little longer, she .would bring out, not the one talent of sticking to things only, but a host of others besides." Priscilla wondered why her mother had tears in her eyes, but she never learned why. But she did notice that after that, when Myra's needle-work and Helen's piano-playing were admired, some one was sure to bring out untalented Prissy's beautiful sewing, or a sample of her latest achievement in the cooking line, and somehow life suddenly became sweeter and happier for Prissy and the whole family. A Neglected Pattern. A weaver sat one day at his loom Among the colors bright, While the pattern for his copying Hung fair and plain in sight. But the weaver's thoughts were wandering Away on a distant track, As he threw the shuttle in his hand Wearily forward and back. And he turned his dim eyes to the ground, And his tears fell on the woof, For his thoughts, alas! were not with his home, Xor the wife beneath its roof. "When her voice recalled him suddenly To himself, as she sadly said: "Ah! woe is me! for your work is spoiled, And w hat will we do for bread?" And then the weaver looked and saw His work must be undone; For the threads were wrong and the colors dimmed Where the bitter tears had run. "Alack! alack!" said the weaver, "And this had all been right If I had not looked at my work, but kept The pattern in my sight I" Ah! sad it was for the weaver. And sad for his luckless wife; And sad it will be for us if we say, At the end of our task in life : "The colors that we had to weave Were bright in our earlier years ; But we wove the tissue wrong and stained. The woof with bitter tears. "We wove a web of doubt and fear Not faith and hope and love, Because we looked at our work, and not At our Pattern up above." Phoebe Cary. Writing of Good English Is Considered Difficult. It is very difficult to believe that the race which has produced one of the two or three supreme literatures liter-atures of the world is "naturally insensitive to the graces and delicacies of language," and is saved from universal "slovenliness" only by its "fidelity" to two other languages, which many of its greatest writers did not know at all, and most knew very imperfectly. im-perfectly. Was it Latin that made Bunyan a master mas-ter of English? Or did Milton's Latin make his prose superior to Bunyan's ? What had Latin to do with the greatness of Defoe or Richardson or Burns or Dickens? Shakespeare's "small Latin" no doubt contributed to his marvelous vocabulary, but can we reasonably trace to it the structural merits of his style? On the other hand, the masters mas-ters of English who have at the same-time possessed pos-sessed any depth of classical scholarship are a small minority; while profound classical scholars who were (and are) in no sense masters of English mav be reckoned by the dozens. One may, indeed, go to the root of the matter and question Dr. Randall's Ran-dall's tacit assumption that the dropping of accidence acci-dence and simplification of syntax is a symptom of "natural insensitiveness to the graces and delicacies delica-cies of language." If complexity of accidence and svntax be marks of linguistic distinction, then all modern languages are degenerate, while Greek and latin themselves (unless I am misinformed) are degenerate as compared wi th Sanskrit Is not the real state of the case quite different? Ought we not rather to say that English has obeyed more Consistently Con-sistently than German or French the general gen-eral psychological tendency which has impels all the leading languages of Europe to pass from a synthetic toward an analytic state, and is, therefore, there-fore, and that that extent, in advance of its com- rCtHis ?tnie that the very simplicity of our grammar gram-mar and the composite nature of our vocabulary place certain difficulties in the way of the writer from which purer and more highly organized lan- guages are free. The writer of French, I take it, can rely more than the writer of English on the guidance of definite rules; and in so far his task is easier. But because the writing of good English is a matter of considerable difficulty, demanding a great deal of vigilance, ingenuity and taste, does it therefore follow that it is an exercise of low educational educa-tional value ? Surely the reverse would be the natural nat-ural conclusion. William Archer. |