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Show 1 ' m Aunt. Busy) . babiy I . &hvSaS& eraiis If ' : , civU j LETTER-WRITING DIRECTIONS. 'y oa y (j V w rite on one side of paper only, ernnr B I0 not have letters too long. r I Adflress all letters to "Aunt Uusy." In- jjax B termouutain Catholic. Vniu 1 DREAM OF THE DANCING BEAR. d 10 I -Dol, dol. o dol. dol, i,ei I Dol e dol de dum" U "(? i That is the silly song on 1 T'ie bear men hum; rebel m And tlle funn od bear, Like a bull unwound, nuc H Lilts up his snout 'arm H And dances around. l"s It "Dol. dol. dol. dol, . I Dol e dol de dum" That seems a silly song To lioys that come; But the funny old bear He has learned the sound, And he lifts his snout And dances around. "Dol. dol, e dol, dol, Dol e dol de dum" That's how an arctic dream To him has come; And the funny new trick And the strangre new tone Are things that he learned :nS- 1" a far-off. zone, ork ti I "Dol. dol. e dol, dol. as- '.. t! e dol de dum" for Scarcely he heeds the song ier- IS The bear men hum; I But he grunts "Good day!" bl!c ! And rolls on the ground, ac- i And wrestles -an hour isg. f; And dances around. led f re- II For "Dol. dol. e del. dol, sh- If Dol e dol de dum." I The north wind is saying 3u- II When the bear men hum; at- II And that funny old hear ke R To that "Dol. dol," theme Is dancing around ral In a sad old dream! ir- Aloysius Coll. id- ; "- AUNT BUSY HAS HER SAY; ' m. th Its Dear Nieces and Nephews:- Aur)t Busy is sorry to hear that some K lettprs written to her have not been re u answered. Now this is no fault of k- Aunt Busy's. Se is only too pleased to ay J receive letters from her dear children, I and she feels sorry when they neglect I her- Are you FUre tnat 'ou mail vour J letters? Aunt Busy feels worried over 17 I tnis matter. Whenever you do not see I "ur letters, be sure to let her know, ai J Do not feel offended if they do not ap-5" ap-5" . rear, because she would not slight one I 01 "u- You may be sure that the letter? let-ter? never reach her. She would like d ! to hear from a few more altar boys. .g ! She fears that the altar boys must be ' I Frarce. Oh, what has become of the Ogdf-n nephews, the All Hallows a nephews and the hundreds of other 1 nephews? Aunt Busy has not heard t S frnm an Hallows bov for over a I year. AUNT BUSY. n I LETTERS AND ANSWERS.' Rock Springs. Wyo., Oct. 7, 1902. Dear Aunt Busy: I thought I would write to you and let you know how I j like school, it is not very hard this ( term. We are in fractions now. Geog raphy is very easy for me. I am taking tak-ing music lessons in school this term. JI' teacher's name is Miss Everly. I will close now. From vour niece, I SARAH LA VERT Y. I Aunt Busy is pleased to know that I you like school. This,' to Aunt Busy's 1 mind, is positive proof that you are a very good child, because all good j litttle girls like school. Meet your les- pons half-way, Sarah, by studying hard and y..u will overcome all difficulties. rite often to Aunt Busy, little niece. Diamondville, Wyo., Oct. 10. Dear Aunt Busy: I thought I would ivnte to you again, although vou did r.ot print my last letter. I go to school every day and am in the fifth grade. Oorge Kinghorn, a schoolmate of rnme. died the other day. Mrs. King-horn King-horn has had lots of trouble, having three children here. Well. Aunt P.usy. I guess I will close. Excuse this anting for I am in a hurry to get to bed. From your nephew. ARTHUR A KAVANAUGH. Aunt Busy has greatly missed your letters. Arthur. She cannot understand under-stand why she never received your last ittrr. ie never reached her. because would surely publish it. Why. '"rcan and you are two of her very dearest nephews. She is sorry to hear r the doath of your little friend. It is ( y y s.-id for the poor mother, but some ay sb- win be glad that her darlings rr safe in heaven, waiting to welcome j a rV You must treat her very nicely, Arthur, in memory of her dead boy. Ly the way, dear chap, are you not an sltar boy? Aunt Busy would like to Rear something about this. St. Louis, Mo., Oct. 5. "ear Aunt Busy: Although I live 6 way off here, I still want to be con- neif rl one of j our nephews. We take n: Iftermountain Catholic and I think it a fine paper. 1 used to be an j?-'ar boy, two years ago. but I quit, lo'j sf-e, there was a fellow in charge " up. a big boy, and he used to boss us just awful, so one day myself and three moro Quit and we never went back. I frus I am too old now, I am 11. Well, I Ef,od-bye, your loving nephew, U LAURENCE DOOLEY. lad, glad welcome to the dear r.phew in St. Louis! Aunt Busy is de-J'Khu-d, indeed, to hear from you. So you used to be an altar boy, and you nuit." Aunt Busy was sorry to hear this, you ceased to be an altar boy yun because some one "bossed" you! 7 f;"- Aunt Busy does not think you did riffht. Do you think the great St. Laurence, Lau-rence, after whom you are named, ""fluid have acted so? Aunt Busy does not know the circumstances, but obedi-ri obedi-ri e an(j respect for authority is a very Important matter, dear boy. It is one K life s hardest lessons, of course, but !fe has many lessons that must be j learned, harder lessons than those in I hook and school, and it is only by being I "elf-controlled and obedient that one I 'earns to control others. Think this' f ver. dear boy, and do please rid your small head of the idea that you are too ) la to be an altar boy. Too old! And "nly 11? Let gray-haired, spectacled old creatures like Aunt Busy remember remem-ber they are old. but no one of your fife should get this idea for the next 0 Laurence8' anyhow' Write soon again. James Donnelly's Temptation. It was a 'pretty little pocket-knife, and deserved a better fate than to be jorgotten by its owner, who had gone Home from . school and left it alone and unprotected on his desk. It had, however caught the eye of one little lenow James Donnelly," bv name who having often borrowed it, was keenly alive to its merits. James was staying in after hours, mastering an example in arithmetic which, during the day, had mastered him; and now, having finished his work, he was gathering his few belongings be-longings together before going home, when his eye alighted on the knife. He picked it up and gave each blade a separate and distinct admiration. How any boy could ' forget such a treasure he did not see. He fairly longed for such a knife, with a longing long-ing that only a boy could feel who was obliged to do -the great amount of his inevitable whittling with one that, in its palmiest days, had boasted but a single blade, and bore, therefore, but sad comparison to the little beauty that he now held in his hand, and which, the longer he held and the more he admired, ad-mired, the harder it seemed for him to replace. The ever-ready tempter was at hand with suggestions; but James hesitated, for, being in the main an upright littl fellow, he could not deliberately take it without doing violence to his better, self. "No one will : suspect yoti, and the owner will think he lost it," whispered the evil voice. Still he hesitated, and still the desire to possess the knife was strong upon him.- Right and wrong struggled for the master, until one more admiring glance, one more feeling of the bright blades, pjoved fatal. Quickly he slipped it into his pocket and hurried out of the classroom class-room w ithout his cheery "Good-afternoon!" that his teacher was wont to hear. But she, being intent on the work of some other boys, soon forgot the omission. omis-sion. He walked down the street with a feeling of anything but exhilaration at possession of the coveted, knife. He changed it from one pocket to another, but somehow it seemed to be at home in none. Then he took it out and again looked at it: it certainly was pretty, but what pleasure would it bring to him if he must always hide it? Suddenly his heart beat quicker, fdr one of his classmater was coming up the street, and James, with his burden of a guilty conscience, felt that his comrade would assuredly penetrate his guilt, and therefore he must avoid the boy. Quickly he scrambled to the top of an old wood-pile, and rejoiced to see that he had not been seen by the boy that ordinarily he would have been glad to meet. While on top of the old boards, his better angel began inserting itself. He had never before been tempted to take what was not his, and he wished the little knife was safe in its resting place in its owner's desk. The more he thought of it the worse his action seemed, and the inner voice of conscience was whispering: "Return it: school is not yet closed, and the classroom by this . time is empty." With an heroic effort he made up his mind to do so. Slowly he climbed down from his height, and slowly retraced his steps toward the school. He opened the classroom door. How lonely; and quiet it all seemed! The afternoon sun was coming through the windows, lighting up the walls and desks and brightening even the old board. He placed the knife where he had found it, and again hurried out of the classroom, but with what different feelingswith feel-ingswith what a light heart? He ran for very joy, and on his way home, in his own boyish fashion, he did much thinking, and made up his mind thereafter to be straightforward and honest in spite of temptation. Long years have passed since that afternoon and he feels that he has been the better man for his boyhood's resolution. reso-lution. . i Why Johnnie "Wept. ' Johnnie and Jennie were having a tea party. "You can pour out the tea, Jtnnie," said Johnnie, graciously. "Well," said Jennie, greatly pleased. "And I will help at the cake," went on Johnnie. "We-el," repeated Jennie, doubtfully. So Jennie poured out the tea, and Johnnie cut the cake. Mother had given them a large piece, which Johnnie cut into five smaller Pieces all of iout the same size. He helped Jennie to one piece, and then began -to eat another himself. Jennie pourned out the tea and the feast went merrily on. Presently there arose a discussion, and then came a prolonged wail from Johnnie. "What is the matter?" asked mother. "Jennie's greedy and selfish, too!" cried Johnnie. "We each had two pieces of cake, and there was only one left, and Jennie took she took it all." Mother looked perplexed. "That does seem rather selfish of Jennie." "Yes, it was," Johnnie wept; " 'cause I cut the cake that way, so's I could have the extra piece myself." A Land Without Animals. Japan is a land without the domestic animals. It is this lack which strikes the stranger so forcibly in looking upon j Japanese landscapes. There are no cows the Japanese neither drinks milk nor eats meat. There are but few I horses, and these are imported mainly i for the use. of foreigners. The freight carts in the city streets are pulled and pushed by coolies, and the pleasure carriages car-riages are drawn by men. There are but few dogs, and these are neither used as watch dogs, beasts of burden, nor in hunting, except by - foreigners. There are no sheep in Japan, and wool is not used in clothing, silk and cotton being the staples. There are no pigs-pork pigs-pork is an unknown article of diet, and lard is not used in cooking. There are no goats or mules or donkeys. Wild animals there are, however, and in particular bears of enormous size. War, of course, has acquainted the Japanese with the use of animals. The army has cavalry horses and others to drag the field guns. The empress also, in obvious ob-vious imitation of European royalties, is an expert horsewoman, and saddle horses are kept for her use. Boys, Don't Swear. Let me advise you to avoid swearing, as there are reasons for doing so on which I recommend you to reflect. Swearing makes God your enemy. Swearing makes good men avoid you. Swearing brings down upon yourself the curse which you pronounce upon another. " Swearing shuts you out from the kingdom of heaven. Swearing drives away the Holy Spirit of God from your heart. Swearing makes the devil your friend. Swearing gives the devil power over your soul. Swearing makes bad men seek your company. . Swearing hardens your heart. Swearing increases the number of your sins. Swearing opens to you the door of the bottomless pit. Let me ask you what good does swearing do you?' None." What harm does it do you? It de-stroyes de-stroyes your soul. Bless and curse not. Jesus came to bless mankind. Do you wish to undo all that he did for you? |