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Show ..Our Boys and iri$.. ; Edited by Aunt Busy. i This department is conducted solely in the inter ests of our girl and boy readers. I Aunt Busy is glad to hear 'any time from the i nieces and nephews who read this page, and to give I t"e' all the advice and help in her power. Write on one side ot' the paper only. Do not have letters too lone. Original stories and verses will be gladly Veceived mid carefully edited. I The manuscrips of contributions not accepted wi'l be returned. Address all letters to Aunt Busy. Intermountain Catholic, fcalt Lake City. f THE MISSES AT SCHOOL. There was on-ve a school Where the mistress, Mis Hi,,, T"U?:v"S'' o nt' th' vexed her; M.t-z Chief was the h.ss --n il e head of the class, -M i juuntj Miss Demeanor was next her. iyr little Miss Hap .t'iiled the ink in h-r lap And Miss Fortune fell under th! tab"- Miss Conduet they all ' iJi'l a Miss Cn-ani -aj l-.-u .Miio Take declared this was a fable. Miss Lay lost her book. Miss Ls?ad inrj.Ji-torik To sh.-..- hor t hf: i,;a-.- where t find if ;:in upiin ;ln- wr,is na:! Had Mi.-.; ria-- .u ;g her veil And M:ss i. -,j hid the !.ok safe behind it. "1 liey went on veiy v. eli. As I li ivf harj Hi! Till Mis.- Tak- brought in' Miss Understanding; Miss Coiict uie then suessed Kil hings of the rest Ah-i Mi.s O.Mf..e: ddvised tihir d'sb:tnding The Advance. AUNT BUSYHASHER SAY. Vi-ur Xieeos ad Xc-j.liows: Aunt. JJusv is ax-.ou.I.v ax-.ou.I.v vaumz to h,ar !. the ni,-,,s and' nephews ' ,iiM;V mt to hor for many moons. She , mmII.v neglected old lady these last few davs. Miy two dear eluldren remembered to write to her i .ns we K. and one only remembered Aunt Busv be-,'I,H' be-,'I,H' r'1" lliHJ "ifaslt-s. Just think of this! Aunt ; l.ii.v is wonder.n- if it would not bo a soo.l idea ; i- trei the meases. Perhaps if ihe nieces and nephews knew she had mumps or something like i mumps or nieaslos, they mipht write to her out of . iiiijii1i.v, so she is really thinking it miSht be well y ; j t., endeavor to j.lay she is a little girl ajrain and j j , mke divadJuI lnQdiemes along with large doses of 1 f sympathy. Loving AUXT BUSY. I LETTERS AND ANSWERS. II Salt Lake. Feb. 21. ! Dear Aunt Busy Did you over have the : inea-lo..r Don't you think it is just awful to be I M. k.' J have had measles for many days, but am I getting better. Your loving nieee. ; FLORENCE MALIX. l es. Aunt Busy had measles, mumps, chicken-pox chicken-pox and every other disease of childhood when she ' was a liltle girl. She thought at that time that she , had 1 roubles enough, but, bless your heart, .she has discovered since that there are worse ills than f mumps", measles. e1c., ;o be thankful that you are ; better, dear, and do not complain. : Butte, Monf., Feb. 2. Dear Aunt Busy I have not written to you for I 1 months. Everything is going on fine with mo and 1 hope you are well and happy, too. Do you I know how to skate. Aunt Busy? 1 wish I could see ; you. 1 just know you are fat and pld like my grandma. Good-bye. Your loving r.ephew. I FKED JIOXAHAX. f Aunt Busy did not forget you. Fred, and it is I neatly six mouths since you wrote to her, dear boy. I Aunt Busy is well, thank you, and is pleased to a hear the same of you. Aunt Busy does not know I liow your dear old grandma looks, but she considers 1 herself complimented if she looks anything like the I dear old grandma of one of her dear nephews. 1 Write soon again. Fred. I A PAIR OF SHOES. I One summer day a dozen years ago a 12-year- I old boy was seated behind a small desk in the antc- g room of a New York morning newspaper office. I Be was one of the regular force of office boys. One of the..e had the day before gone away, a fact which had in some mysterious may been noised abroad, and during the day a score of other boys ' Lad b-eu in to apply for the place. "None of them bad beeir engaged, i Shortly before 0 oVloek another boy appeared, ab-.ut 1 1n- aire of the one who sat in the room. '1 heard you want to get another office boy," sijid tli" newcomer. I he i . ; i in ib; chair looked the other over carefully care-fully without replying. The applicant was a clean, manly looking little fellow,, with frank blue eyes. The office boy wont into the inner room, aud then the assNtant editor appeared. "What's your name?"' he asked briskly. '"Walter Simmons, sir," answered the boy. The man rapidly questioned "him further, and looked at his letters of recommendations., In a moment the lriy was engaged. "You'll go on ibe night force' said the editor. "Betnti tonight at 0 o'clock you'll get off somewhere some-where ar.'inid -J. There'll be a coupla of the boys here to tell you what to do." "Yes. ai-wered the boy. moving towards the do.r. A- h stepped from behind the desk the editor noticed that he was barefooted. ib rr. where are your shoes T said the man. "Yoiu! have to hurry if you've got to go home a ! V tiiv:ll.r The boy l-.oked down and hesitated. Then he g!-.no.-,J up at ihe man and said: i '1 haven't any shoes, sir." I "No shoo-? Well, we can't have a barefooted ii -.- boy. Can't you get some?" Ay a in ihe hoy hoitalcd. "I'll try my best, sir." he -aid, with a slight tremor in his voice. "All rigid. Turn up here at 6 o'clock with shoes on and ihe place is yours otherwise -we'll have to get some one else," and the editor hurried awav. the bov walked slowly out to the head of the M;.ir-. Jle paused here and gazed wistfully back ii.io the anteroom. Then, catching the eye of the bov in-ide. he turned and ran down the steps. "Hi there! Hold on, kid!" came a voice from lh.- h.ad of the stairs. He turned on the first lauding, and saw the other boy looking down at him. m "Whai's ihe reason you am t got any shoes: n-ked ihe -office hoy. "All worn out and thrown away, I've been out of work for a month, and my mother's sick." "(Jot iinv stockings?" "Yes, one pair," and he gazed down at his bare Jogs below his fchort trousers. "Well, vou must be about my size, I have a pair of shoes I might lend you for a week till you draw vour pa v. What'd ye say to that L 'You wouldn't ask me if you knew how much 1 want the place." . "Well, vou skip home and get the stockings. Come richt back and wait there where you arc. You'll have to hustle if you get back by o. Walter certainly did hustle; lie was back seven V minutes before 6, and stood panting on the landing, I half afraid that the other would not keep his word. The next moment his new found friend looked down at him. "Sit right down there," said 'the office boy. "Put on the stockings and I'll be along at G." ' Walter did as he was told, and as everybody went up and down by the elevator, he was not disturbed. dis-turbed. In a few minutes the office boy came, sat down beside him and began taking off his shoes. "This is the only pair I've got,v he explained... 'Xothing very stylish about them, but" if they'll do; on my feet, they'll do on yours. The cost a dollar, dol-lar, anyhow, and you want to be careful of them no skating on the floor or kicking the desk legs. Try that one." "That fits all right," answered "Walter. "Well, get 'em both on quick. My n.ime is Tom Bennett, and I live at 0S9 Koosevelt street. There's a bakery in the basement that's open all night. The boss knows me. When you get off at 2, you go round there and leave the shoes with him. I'll . tell him you're coming. See that, you don't fail, 'cause if you do I'll be out of a job myself tomorrow. to-morrow. I got your name and address from Mr. Hunt, and if the. shoes ain't at- the Lake-shop in the morning, I'll be looking for you." He stuffed his own stockings in his pocket and went down the stairs in his bare feet. The other boy went up and began his duties. For a week this arrangement was kept up. Tom found his shoes each morning at the baker's, and each evening the exchange was made on the landing. land-ing. At the end of this time Walter was able to get himself a pair, and the partnership in footgear foot-gear came to an end. But the friendship so oddly begun has never ended, and both boys proved to be capable of rising to better things. Tom is now in the business office and Walter is a reporter. Ilaydcn Carruth, in Youth's Companion. a. THE UNINVITED GIRL. "Good-bye, girlies! Have a nice time! You may ask "Martha for the cakes that were' left last night if yuu like, and perhaps sdio will make you some lemonade. You might get Gertrude to come over and play tea." said mamma, stopping 1o kiss Dot and Dimple on her way downtown. Before her skirts had wisked around the corner the girls were eagerly planning. "We'll have a party. There'll be Gertrude and us, and we'll invite Florrie, too oh, and Daisy that'll be five." j "All right! Let's go now!" And two white aprons went flying down the street to gather in the company. As they passed the 'brown house," a little girl in a gingham dress was hanging on the gate. "Hello!" she called, in 'a friendly voice. "Hello!" answered Dimple, slowing up. But Dot pulled her along. "We haven't time to stop," she urged. "Perhaps v.? ought to invite her," said Dimple, slowly; shc looks lonesome." 'The idea. Dimple Day! You know you don't want her. 'Xo, I don't really," confessed Dimple, "only perhaps " "Well, then, we aren't going to! I see Florrie; come on!" When they went back, the gate was empty. Dimple's tender heart pricked when she remembered remem-bered the wistful face that had looked after them down the road, but she soon forgot it in the joys of the party. Gertrude and Daisy having been found, they settled themselves under the trees. "Play I'm Mrs. Smith," said Dot, "and Dimple is mv child, and you're all invited to her birthday" birth-day" .Just then the gate clicked. "It's the little brown-house girl!" cried Dimple, running to meet her, secretly very glad indeed sho had come. "My mamma said I could play with you if you'd like to have me," said the child, with a shay smile. Dot looked very nearly" cross for a second, but she was mamma's own -girl and could not be really impolite, so she smiled back and said: "Of course! Come right in! We are having a part v." The little girl nodded gravely. "Yes, I've heard about parties, but I never went to one." The children looked at each other. INever at a party! How dreadful! They would try their best to show her what a "truly" lovely party yas like. They played "ring around a rosy" and "puss in the corner" till they were tired, and Martha brought brought' the cakes and lemonade. Alas! they were hardly seated around a towel spread on the grass when a big black dog ran up from the garden right into the middle of the party! Five frightened girls ran screaming toward to-ward the house, leaving the cakes to go donw their unwelcome visitor's throat. The little brown-house girl alone stayed and bravely chased him away. Once more they began the feast, but this time a hungry wasp lit on Dimple's cake, and because she would not let him have it, stnng her finger instead. Again the little brown-house girl came to the rescue. res-cue. Tutting some soft earth on the hurt, she tied it up iu her handkerchief and soon the pain was gone. i After that things went merrily till it wa stime I to go home. When the children kissed each other good-bye, they all kissed the little brown-house girl, too. "I'm coming to see you some day," promised Gertrude. "Me, too!" chimed in Daisy; and Florrie walked home with her, arm in arm. After they were gone, Dimple said: "I guess they thought the little girl that wasn't invited was the nicest of all." "Yes," agreed .Dot, "and I guess she was. She's the most unselfish, anyway. Xot a bit like me. But I'll be better next time, Dimple truly, I will." Pittsburg Observer. THE "GOOD SAINT" CHAD. By Mary F. Xixon-Iloulet in Ave Maria. Long, long ago, in the times of the Saxons, there dwelt in Lindisfarncthat monastery where Saint Cuthbert lived a monk calley Ccadda, or Chad. He was most holy and zealous for religion, going about among his own people, preaching to them, encouraging them to remain steadfact iu the faith, and converting so many of the pagans that he is called the 'Missioner of the East Saxons.' Sax-ons.' When too old to travel about, he went to live at Litchfield, so called from the great number of martyrs buried there the name meaning the "field of skeletons." Here, he led a life of the greatest sancity; he was most charitable to the poor and suffering, was engaged much in prayer and in all good works; and lived the quiet life of a soul wholly detached from the world. Thunderstorms were regarded by Saint Chad as "the voice of God" sent to call men to devotions; devo-tions; and during a storm he would always go to the church and pray. It is told of him that seven days before his death, Arvinus, a monk, heard from the room where the good Chad - lay, sounds of marvelous music, and a strange flight of angel wings heavenward, heaven-ward, as the celestial visitants departed after having hav-ing warned him of his approaching end. ' On the seventh day the holy man died, and his soul was seen going up to .heaven in the company of Saint Cedd. his brother, and that of many angels. When he w;as canonized. Saint Chad was considered con-sidered the patron of springs whose waters had healing qualities; and his body was interred,-A. D. TOO,' in Litchfield cathedral, where a splendid shrine was raised in ihw honor. The' spot became ; a favorite place of pilgrimage for the faithful and , devout. The -saint's tomb had a hole in it through which pilgrims could scrape a little dust; mixing this with holy water, they gave it to the sick to drink, and many cures were said to be effected thereby. The shrine was desecrated in later times by the sacriligious reformers. Saint Chad's body, however, was providentially saved by some devout Catholics, and it now reposes under the high altar of the cathedral of Birmingham. A strange incident is related of Litchfield cathedral. ca-thedral. In lG4;i the royalist troops, led by the Earl of Chesterfield, fortified the cathedral close, and fought there a desperate battle against the parliamentary troops under Lord Brooke. This last, a rabid Puritan, on attacking the cathedral, prayed that, if his cause was unjust he might be cut off;, and at once he fell dead, struck by a brace of bullets from the tiring piece of a gentleman named Dyatt, discharged from the middle tower of the church. It was to this that Sir Walter Scott referred re-ferred in 'Marmiou" when he wrote: 'Twas tevellel wlieu fanatic Brook? The fair cathedral stormed and look: But. thanks to Heaven and Good Saint Chad, A guerdon- meet the spoiler land! " ' As this circumstance occurred upon the 2d of March, or Saint Chad's day. it. was looked upon as a special sign of God's providence and the favor of the saint. A SAD CASE. I hive the swt-etest dolly, H?r name in R-lle M-irie; She came her,! on my birthday From Paris o'er the sea. But she'rf no com Tort to me, They keep her looked away. For slie'. so very' lovely She'd soon be fjmiled at play. And so en my next birthday A rag doll I will choose; Because it's hard to nave a child Who is too nice to use. Caralin Misehka ttoberts. RULES FOR BEING GOOD. Forget your misfortunes. Give your horse an apple. Take your wife to the theatre. Answer the children's questions, l Laugh at your husband's old stones. Allow your children to disturb you with a frolic. Break away from dull care and amuse yourself. your-self. ' ' Reassure your husband of your appreciation of his good qualities. Compliment the cook if she accomplishes a particularly well cooked dish. Listen sj-mpathetically to your wife's same, old tale of woe about the help. Don't presuppose that everybody is a machine doomed to minister to your comfort without appreciation. ap-preciation. Money cannot entirely pay for all things. i TRIBUTE TO MOTHER. In a district school in a little town in Maine the teacher asked recently for a composition from her C-ycar-old children on the 'theme of "Mother." This was tho effort of one little boy: My mother can wash. My mother is good. . . I help her wipe the dishes. v My mother can iern. My mother can wash her hand?. My mother can wash my hands. My mother can go to bangor. My m6ther can go to oltown. My mother can go to bostn. My mother isnt crazy. My mother can eat supper. a My mother can eat bread. My mothef can work. , ; My mother cant run. . ' My mother cant slide dowii hill. My mother cant do tricks. 1 ' My mother cant sit in the rode. My mother cant wock in the car track. My mother cant sit in a mudpuddel. My mother cant wock a rulear. My mother cant maka wood. My mother cant stand on her head. Boston Transcript. t 1 GIRLS, THING OF THIS. If your dear mother could count on your steady, sensible, helpful, practical interest in the home making and the management of the house, she would be the happiest . mother in. the world. She would be glad to give over a little or a great deal of her authority to an earnest and systematic little daughter. She has had the care of the home on her mind for a long time morning, afternoon and evenjng meals, house furnishing, house cleaning, sewing, guests, everything. Think of it! Do you wonder that her first fine enthusiasm is a ' little dulled, and that it does not seem so tremendous a matter to her if her sofa cushions are old fashioned or her window curtains are looped primly back as they were twenty years ago, or her waitress doesn't wear the very newest kind -of aprons I - T YOUNG MEN REMEMBER. ' That it takes more than muscle to make a man. That bigness is not greatness. That it requires pluck-to be patient. That selfishness is the most unmanly thing in the world. That piety is not prigishness. That to follow a crowd is a confession of weakness. weak-ness. That street corners are a poor college. ' That one real friend is worth a score of mere acquaintances. That to be afraid to be one's noblest self is greatest great-est cowardice. That it is never too soon to begin the business of making a man of one's self. That Avhat is put into the brain today will be taken out of it ten years hence. That the only manliness worth possession is shown in the life of the Son of Man. , -A NOT AN UNKNOWN TONGUE. Both the girls who figured in the dialogue which follows were chewing gum, but unfortunately this kind of conversation, which is too common, is not confined to gum-chewing girls, nor is the habit of gum-chewing responsible for it: "Amelia hungry?" "Yeli." 1 "So my. Less go ncct." "Where?" "S eev go one places nut her." "So dy. Iko nect mo stennywarc. Canchoo?'' "Yeh. Golcher money?" "Yob." "So vy.. Gotcher aptite?" ' "Yeh. Gotchoors?" "Yeh. .Howbout place crosstrect?' "Thattlcdoo zwell zennyware. Mighta thoughta that'tfirst. Gotcha hot ?" "Tma gettinit. Gotcher money?" "Yeh. Didn'checr me say I had it ? Allreadv?" "Yeh." "K'TOon." ' |