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Show .-Our Boys and ffirl$; EDITED BY AUNT BUSY. J This department Is conducted solely In the Inter ests of our plrl and boy readers. Aunt Busy is glad to hear any tlmo from th rlece, and nephews who read this pape and trlr, them all the advice and help j her pSwer. " Write on one Ride of the paper only Do not have letters too' long. .nPrlF,n-,Bt0rIes and ver8ea U' be gladly recelv-1 r end carefully edited Kaaiy receiv.i be TeturTneSUSCriPtS f contrlbutIol of accepted win Worthless Bobby. InnZICaSCA Iar.r! h' Plcasc little Hafro!'' VCck-Just onc week. Please, Mr. Mr. Harro looked into the pleading little face before him an;l once more the kind heart' was touched ard softened. troi""" JP?d "P0" yOU' Bobb-v- that's the trouble, . ,oC0t mv workt Undcrstan(, T Preaate - -e for books, t am ffad - P them b... K". : rst duty is to attend to the busi-',7 busi-',7 that 1 . e you to do, and you don t do it, Lobby; yet; -r you don't." "Oh liarro, I will try to be pood. Take Snore " 1 3nd try mc j,,tft oncc 1 . 2 T lZT b0ks fr0m tliat be no test ; but I .hall put you on your merit onoc more, Bobby, and see what you will do; but if there j s no improvement, it is your last chance you will Jiave to go. lou understand now. do you 2" said Mr. Harro. as he stepped into the carriage Bobby turned away to hide the tears, as Marion Jlarro, a sweet girl of nineteen years, ran merrilv doJLth Jlarth .and took the beside her father' well, Marion, that youngster has potten the best of me again, and I have taken him another week on probation." "father, 1 am so -lad" her face brijrhten-mgI brijrhten-mgI thought you would give him another trial " 'What a tender heart you have, dear; but I love -vou to be so; the more of your gainted mother I see in your character the more I feel you are develop-i develop-i ing into the highest type of womanhood. Foster it my darling; cultivate it; there are always plenty to say the hard, sharp word, and under a cloak of j frankness wound even those whom they really love " rJT They were driving along the beautiful country road to the station, and s they drew up to the platform plat-form for Mr. liarro to alight., Marion put her hand : IcncVrly over his and said, "Dear father, I am try- ing to be like her." f "Surely, the mantle of the mother has fallen upon the daughter," replied Mr. Harro, with quivering quiv-ering voice, "and you will never know, my darling, what hope you bring into your father's life." As Marion drove leisurely home her thoughts turned to Bobby. How could ehe help him? He was one of seven, his father was dead, and his struggling mother trying to keep the family. together. to-gether. They were honest and respectable but" very poor. Bobby was thirteen. John, the eldest, a bov j of fifteen, had a position in the village grocery f-tore, which was a great help to his mother. He wns an industrious, hard-working boy, but Bobby did not love work, and would shirk everything that he poseibly could to pore over his beloved hook9. History, geology, anatomy, astronomy anything that fell into his hands he would read, and think " find wonder, though he could not understand. That, in fact, was the fascination. He wanted to know about things, and he knew there were men in the, world who did know, or these books would never have been written. Mr. Harro, knowing how the boy yearned for education, offered to take him in his home, allowing him the school privileges, and mying him well for doing chores about the place, 1 hereby laying some money aside for his higher education, for it was very plain that Bobby would never earn a living by the sweat of his brow. '"Ab solutely worthless!" was the opinion nearly everybody every-body had of poor Bobby, and it was through much apparent tribulation on their part that Mr. Harro and Marion were trying to make something out of 1 he boy. He had been with them six months, and Mr. Harro, thoroughly discouraged, had threatened often to send him back to his mother only to be won over every time either by the stress of the boy or the coaxing of his idolized daughter. i This was a day early in November, and the light i clouds that had hovered around in the morning thickened and gathered, and by noon rain was fall-. fall-. ing. A groat storm was upon them, that hourly increased in-creased in its fury. Trembling hands were held on either side of the anxious faces that peered into what was already the darkness of night as faithful John, who acted as coachman and man of all work about the place, drove down the carriage drive and out into the street on his way to meet his master. i Two hours passed and they had not returned. Jr Marion walked restlessly about the house. ' " "Where is Bobby, Hannah f she said, stopping at the kitchen door, where the odor of the saory cliimer would have been most appetizing lml it not been for the great anxiety for her father's sat r.v. " ?Clar to goodness. Miss Marion, I dun know! , Seym's if dat boy don't know 'miff to come in out o' de rain. He tuk dc lantern and went out to de barn, an' I just 'spects lie's scared to come back." In the meantime John had safely reached tht station, and after waiting a long time for the belated be-lated train, Mr. Harro finally appeared at the carriage car-riage door. The usually sluggish little stream that ran between the home and the station was a river. It had risen until even with the bridge, and the opposite end had loosened from its foundation and was ready to break away; but they did nor know that, end were about to urgs the frightened horso shove the bellowing waters when they saw a lantern Fwung back and forth upon the other side. "Stop, John." cried 3Ir. Harro, quickly; "that's a danger signal." "I see it. sir," said John, backing the horse and taking to the street; "that means a five-mile drive y to the upper bridge." "Yes, but our lives are spared. Xothing could have saved us if wc had gotten into that torrent. I haven't seen such a freshet for many years. Sme brave fellow has risked his life for others in this storm tonight." The upper bridge was found intact, and as they reared home the storm seemed to abate somewhat in its fury. Both looked with eager eyes for the lantern lan-tern at the lower bridge. Finally they reached tho ppot. The light was still there but the bridge was gone! Mr. Harro leaped from the carriage to thank his benefactor, just as the bearer of the lantern came rushing forward. "Dear, dear Mr. Harro! Are you safe?" 1 "Oli, Bobby! Brave little Bobby!" cried Mr. Harro; but Bobby had fainted. Tenderly he wa? lif ten. into the carriage, and Mr. Harro supported ATNT BUSY'S PRETTY LITTLE NIECE stSttS tig r " i: ! I X tt"t '-if ; v .k - ',.' - - - - - - - . .J..SJ Lovania Catherine Condron. Aunt Busy has a new niece, a dear little girl, who is obedient, gentle and quite lovable. She is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Condron of this city, and Aunt Busy hopes to print a letter from her soon. , the dripping unconscious little form as John drove home as rapidly as possible. Weeks of fever followed, and with moist eyes Mr. Harro would bend over the little sufferer as' in his delirium he would frantically swing the imaginary imag-inary lantern or cry out to Mr. liarro not to cross the treacherous bridge. One day, while convalescing, Bobbv put his little, lit-tle, thin hand upon Mr. Ilarro's and said, "Mr. Harro. Fm almost afraid to got well, for fear I will not be good, and you will send me away." "Why, Bobby, you saved my life, and 1 am' not going to let you go away from me again; this is your home now. You shall go through college and choose for your life work whatever you love best. You have a bright mind, and I am sure I shall not be disappointed in you." And be it said for Bobby that Mr. Harro was right. Catholic Citizen. St. Agnes' Lambs. At the feast of St. Agnes in January of each year, one of the most interesting ceremonies takes place. Two snow-white- lambs, without spot or blemish, are brought into the church and each, in a separate basket, is laid upon the altar. One is a symbol of beautiful innocence, the other of stainless stain-less sacrifice. Every detail in the blessing of these lambs has been prescribed by tho custom of centuries. cen-turies. The Abbot of the Canons Regular of the. Lateran is the appointed dignitary to perform the blessing, and when it has been completed tho lambs are committed to the master of ceremonies of the Lateran. His solemn duty consists in nresentin"- ihtni to the Holy Father, who graciously accepts the pleasing gift. By orders of the Pope they are entrusted to the nuns of St. Cecilia in Trastevere, where they receive re-ceive every attention. Xear Easter their white wool is carefully shorn from these precious lambs, is sent to the Pope, and is afterwards woven into Palliums, one of which is sent to the Archbishop, who has come to office during the year. Agnes, the lamb of innocence, having been sacrificed sac-rificed to God, now furnishes the symbol of participation par-ticipation 'in the power of ruling the flock confined to the Chief Shepherd of the Universal Church. |