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Show ..Oar Boys and rl$.. This department is cor.diw, , , 1 ests of our girl and boyTeaTers the inter Aunt Busy is glad to h nieces and nephews who read tJ?7 Ume from the them all the advice aJd help in her?' JJ nte on one side o Do not have letters too long ' JTefJTXT VCr8eS 1U e received heunred"808 f .WUon. not accepted wUI cJsSSFcfc.1 BUSy' termountain JOHNNIE'S LETTER Dear Santa Claus. I hone vmrn And bring me firet a Selt SlV0"10' And then some .SJJU foo A birycle, a box of bricks ' NoTdiffi !?' f m'c tricks, , ot difficult to do. ' "A humming top. a knife, a kite A baseball bat, good, strong and light- X LPKan f e3ovcs to match SM' A football and a tennis bat t a-?d 3 large vIte rat. A gold or silver watch. -And then I'd like an album, please. To put my stamps in at my case; -A boat, the -jolly Tar'- "FiT0iP0J. b0k- w th lots'of fights VtVA- rhh:rs or uith -iiia, last, a motor car. YoTd'on tar Sa'ita Claus- aIld mina' Vnnr , fVe Tanrthin behind! Th.Mc Jr1l5'' Johnnie Spottem." -That is the letter which I quote This the list of things hewro e-I e-I wonder if he got 'em. AUNT BUSY'S GOOD WISHES. ' Dear Xiercs ad Xophews: Aunt Busv extends ineere pood wishes to her dear girls and bovs for the beautiful Christmas tide. ' Once more the Christnias'bells will tell the storv so Icome to the -earth; one more the bells will hernld the birth of the Saviour King; the message "Vf r7 n"d, SCa; the Plad rih 7 a -n,? 10 God ailJ eacc 011 Mrth to men of pood will! ' Aunt Busy knows some pretty flower legends T "V- ry 01 tne-Jnfant Savior that she ilunks will interest the young people who write to . her. The peasantry of Spain say that rosemary bnnps happiness with its perfume on Christmas ere because the Blessed Virgin hung the little Iroeks of Jesus to dry upon the rosemary bushes. The snowdrop of February blooms in memory of The time when the Virgin Mother presented' the child m the temple. The pretty little flower called "Our Lady's Bed-Mead Bed-Mead was so called because Our Lady made the manger bed of it. The sycamore attains its great vitality and verdure because the Mabommedans says it is the tree of Joseph and Marv, and sheltered shel-tered them in their flight to Egypt. The rose of Jericho is also calied Mary's Rose Tt sprung wherever the Blessed Virgin's feet touched the earth on he way to Egypt: His path of mercy through a forest lay- And mark how all the dropping blanches show hat homage best a silent tree may pay. Only the aspen ttood erect and "free, Ecorning to join the voiceless worship pure; But see He cast one look upon the tree-Struck tree-Struck to the haart, she trembles evermore. Once again, dear girls and boys, docs Aunt Busy uish one and all "A Merry Christmas." AUNT BUSY. LETTERS AND ANSWERS. Denver, Colo., Dec. 3, 1904. Dear Aunt Busy: I live in Denver, Colo., and seeing your corner for "Boys and Girls" in The In-tcrmountain In-tcrmountain Catholic, I thought I would write to you. I go to the Immaculate Conception school, and I am in the sixth grade. I am 30 years old. I enjoy your corner of the paper very much and so do my brothers and sisters. .Well, Aunt Busy, I will have to close. With love from vour loving "niece. KEGINA FLYXX. 1822 Clarkson Street. Aunt Busy is always happy to hear from a new niece or nephew from Colorado". She has many dear young friends in the beautiful slate. She appreciates the kind words for The Inter-mountain Inter-mountain Catholic very highly. Aunt Busy hopes that the dear niece with the pretty name will induce a few schoolmates of her school to write to Aunt Busy, too. Write soon again, Regina. y Elko, Xcv.. Dec. 11, 1004. ' Dear Aunt Busy: It is a long time since I wrote to you. Mamma is pretty sick today. We all have had colds. Papa is going downtown after dinner. My brothers are eating candy. Your loving niece, E. A. MURPHY. Aunt Busy is very glr.d that the dear little girl in Elko does not forget her. She hopes that the di ar mother is well by this time. Tell the little haps, .who were eating candy, to write to Aunt . Busy. . Carr, Col).. Nov! 11. 1004. j Dear Old Auntie: I will scratch you a few lines. ' We milk twenty-two cows. My marks on my report cards arc as follows: Reading 95, spelling 85, writing writ-ing 90, grammar 100, arithmetic 0, geography 0, history .s. deportment 90; averftrc 87. Lawrence was 3 months old today. Mara mid, Xora went to Carr today. We arc not dor..: putting: up hay to- , day. Frontier days were verv rainy there. There Mere lots of people up for Frontier day. I will write you a story about Margery Lane's birthday. It rained here Friday. Mamma and papa went to Fori Collins Sunday and came back Tuesday. When 1 went to the Floto show it was a very rainy day. They did not have much of their show on account of the weather. There are lots of people coming out f roin'( 'hevonne to shoot ducks. Our school will let out in December. 1 will bo 10 years old soon. Your loving- niece, AXASTAS1A MAXTEY. Aunt Busy hopes 1o hear from the dear little Mauleys during the holiday lime. Give Aunt Busy's love to all the little Mauleys particularly the dear l-al.v. Butte, Dec. 10. Dear Aunt Busy: I want to wish you a merry Christmas and hap-" py New Year. May -God bless you and keep you : many years for vour nieces and nephews. Your loving niece, ' THERESA COXNELLEY. Aunt Busy has certainly enjoyed your charming charm-ing little letter, Theresa. Best wishes for all ihe joys of the holiday season for yourself, dear little girl. FORGETFUL TEDDY. Teddy Johnson is a pretty good sort of a boy, but he has one fault, and that a very serious one; he dors not, give heed to what, is said to him, and then, in excuse, always said, "I forgot." " ' ' One night he forgot to put his cart into the shed, although he had boon told many times not to leave it out, and the rain washed the bright red paint and pretty black letters, making it look faded and dull. Another day he forgot to come home to his dinner, din-ner, and spent the whole noon hour throwing rocks into th frog pond, having a portion of his playmates' play-mates' hmch. Still a third day bus mother x'nt him to the grocer's to order soBit-thing for dinner. She. went i out, and did riot return' until it was .time to cook the meal. Imagine her surprise and disappointment upon finding, when she went" into the kitchen, that her order had not been tilled. Teddy had met, on his way down street, one of the other boys, had stopped to play for a time, and then gone on to school without once thinking of his mother's order. So that day they ate a "picked-up" dinner; his mother was annoyed and his father , displeased. After dinner Mr. and Mrs. Johnson sat long to correct this bad habit in their son. Mr. Johnson said: "Really, that boy ought to be taught to remember re-member and obey when he is told to do a thing." "Yes," replied the wife, "but what can we do? He has been punished, but it seems to make no difference." "I have a plan," said Mr. Johnson. And he proceeded pro-ceeded to unfold his scheme. Mrs. Johnston agreed to try it. j The next day being a holiday, Teddy was to go to E- to the fair with his father. His mother got his things in readiness the night before, and he went to bed a very happy boy, to dream of the next day's pleasure. Teddy was an early riser, and in the, morning was wide awake, 'anxious for the S o'clock train, which was to take him to the city. While he was eating his breakfast, his mother discovered his shoes were not suitable; and. as she had forgotten to order any others. Teddy was sent to the "store for a new pair, with the injunction to come back at once. He ran out of the house with good intentions, but down the street Paul came to show a new gun 'which had just arrived, and the two boys were so : busy trying k hit a bull's-eye in the target that no note of passing time was made until the train whistled at the station. Poor Teddy was nearly heartbroken wheu he found his father had gone without him. "Why didn't papa t-oine after mei" he asked. "He must have forgotten vou," replied his mother, who was just going out to his grandfather's. grand-father's. That afternoon grandpa was going out for a sail in lm new boat, and sent word for Teddy to go with him. On Mrs. Johnson's return home she said nothing about the matter to Teddy. As she was on her way back she met one of the I little boys, who asked "her to tell Teddy they were going down Jo the shore for a picnic, and he must come right along, for they could only wait ten minutes. When Mrs. Johnson arrived home she found did not think it would be wise to offer any comfort or tell him of the picnic. In the afternoon Teddy felt better, and indeed quite forgot, the morning's episode in the anticipation anticipa-tion of his father's return with the usual supply of fruit and candy. When Mr. Johnson came home Teddy asked for the fruit. "I didn't get any, my son, I really must have forgotten about you." was his fathers indifferent reply. Teddy's eyes filled with tears, but somehow he thought it best to say nothing. After supper grandpa drove over on business, and just as he was going away said to Teddy: "Why didn't jou come over and go with us this afternoon?" "Go where ?" was thq anxious inquiry. "Why, sailing. We all went -and caught a fine lot of fish." T didn't know you were going," said Teddy. Grandpa replied: "I sent word by your mother for you to come over and go sailing with us. She said you could go as well as not." "She didn't tell me," said Teddy. And as soon as grandpa had gone he ran into the house to ask his mother about "the matter. "Other people can forget the same as you," she said, with a smile. After a pause, he said quietly: "Xow I understand, under-stand, mother. I'll not forget any more." THE LUCKY LITTLE FIDDLER. The clock on the great stone church at the corner showed that it was only half-past six, but the short Xovember afternoon had long since deepened into darkness. The lights on the avenue shone with a flickering gleam through the fast falling snow. Suddenly around the corner came a figure, and as it paused under an electric light, the rays fell on a slender little lad in shabby garments, with a violin clasped lightly in his arms. The boy's face was thin and pale and the great brown eyes seemed full of unshed tears. Wearily he loaned against the post. Xo one cared to listen to him today, and he would have no supper. Xeither breakfast nor dinner he had had, for that matter. Oh, it was so cold, and he was so hungry. Perhaps he might lie down here in the snow and an angel might see him and take him up to. Para- disc. What was that verse? Ah, yes! "And they ! shall have neither hunger nor thirst." j What a beautiful place that must be! He wondered won-dered if little Patrick, the bootblack, was there now. Patrick had died in the early fall. How many nights they had shared a bun or a bit of fruit together,- and planned a dazzling future, when he was a great musician, and Patrick a banker, bank-er, living on Fifth avenue. Well, Patrick had found a better home than the palatial mansion he had pictured; but-he was just a tired, hungry little street waif. As he stood there in a sort of stupor, a lieht flashed from a window across the way. The curtain was up and he could see into the luxurious dining din-ing room where preparations for the evening meal were going on. The sight of that tempting table filled him with fresh strength, and crossing the strwt he drew hi& bow across his violin and began to play. , ' Xow, in that great mansion lived o woman past' the first bloom of youth, but with its traces still upon her. A stately, haughty woman, possessed of many talents, she dwelt in the luxurious house alone. All her kindred had crossed the dark river and she was left the last of a noble family. Society admired her, but stood in awe of her. She gave her money with lavish hand to charities, herself she never gave. While possessing much that makes life miserable, miser-able, Elinor Went worth had missed the best in life. Tonight, she sat before the open fire, a bored, listless list-less look on her handsome face. She would have to go abroad this winter, .she was thinking. JIoiuc was unbearably dull. Suddenly he raised her head in wonder. Through the Btill night air came the sound of a violin. Louder and louder rose the plaintive notes, and so full of sadness were they that tears unbidden unbid-den came to the listener's eyes. Hastily ringing the bell, she ordered the servant serv-ant to learn who was playing outside in the bitter night. - He came back in a moment: 'Twas nothing but a beggar lad, and he would send him away. She cried out imperatively to bring him in. "Bring him right in here!" she said to the astonished as-tonished man. The boy entered, his weary face full of dread. Probably she would send him to the police station. "What is your name?" she commanded. "Donald Shephard, ma'am," he replied slowlv. . "Play for me. Anything," and Miss'EIinor seated seat-ed herself, and watched him closely. He played a simple little melody, but as she i looked something stirred her thoughts. Oncelong j ago. she had a little brother with just such beautiful ! dark eyes. She had worshiped him, and had cried our fiercely when he had been taken away. What, if Stephen had been left to. the mercy of the cold world. The old, tender impulses, so iong restrained, leaped forth. V, "StopS? she cried,: and calling him to iicry.held his cold, little hands jin her own warm ones while she said gently: " ' ' "Donald, you have a wonderful talent. XoV, I want you to tell me all , abouf yourself." He 'told her of his father's struggle witlr poverty; pov-erty; how he had been a music teacher, and in the spring had followed the mother, dead long ago, and had left his boy nothing in the world but his treasured treas-ured violin, and the legacy of an honest name. Miss Elinor had listened silently, her thoughts busy; but now she said: "Donald, I, once had a little brother who was dearer than all the world to me. He is gone, and I am all alone. So arc you. and I want you to come and take his place," and then she drew him into her lap and kissed him. People said that , winter that Elinor Wentworth seemed to grow younger and brighter; that she had been alone so long a companion was what she needed. She thought so herself, when the long silent rooms rang with the sound of a child's merry voice; or when at night she and Donald sat before the fire making plans for the years to come, or talking of those who were waiting for them in the far country. One evening when they had been speaking of these loved ones, Donald told her of little Patrick, and of the neglected grave in the cemetory. "I wish I could put a stone on iuAunt Elinor!" he said, and she bent and kissed him for an answer. an-swer. So it came, about that about .a week later they stood by a little mound and at the head was a marble stone with a beautiful angel on top, and below was written: "Patrick Dooley. aged ten years." |