| OCR Text |
Show ! mmmm by busy) j . . j LETTER-WHITING DIRECTIONS. I I M rite on one side of paper only. J Do not have letters too long. I Address all letters to 4,Aunt Busy," In- I leimouiUain Catholic. J BILLY AND HIS DRUM. I Ho! it's conic, kids, come!' , "With a him! bam! bum!. a y Hero's little Billy bangin on his t " hip bass drum! ille's H-marchin' round the room, "With his fcather-dustr plume A-noddin' an' a-hobbin' with his bim! bom! boom! fV m Looky, little Jane an Jim! j "Will you only look at him. 1 A-humpin' an' a-thumpiif with his 1 tern: bom! him! I Has the Day ' Judgment come, J Kr the New. Mi-len-nee-um? I Er is it only Hilly with his j blm! bam! bum! IJ'm a-comin': yes. I am Jim an' Sis, an' Jane an' Sam! AVe'll all march off with Billy an' his bom! him! bam! Prmn hurrawin' as you come. Kr they'll think you:re rtcef an' dumb Ef you don't hear little Billy an' his I big bas.s drum! James AVhStcomb Riley. AUNT BUSY HAS HER SAY. Dear Nieces and Nephews: Aunt Busy will not say much this week, only please do not quite forget to write to her during the happy vacation va-cation days. Aunt Busy will love to hear about the good times you are hav-, hav-, L. ing camping, hunting and fishing. She , , loves to hear about fishing and any ! J nephew who will send in a good fish j story will be considered by Aunt Busy I to be her best friend. I Aunt Busy was told a splendid fish story today and she would like to tell you only the nephew was a trifle too !old to be mentioned in this department. He is nearly as old as Aunt Busy, so you know how really ancient he Is. "Well, good-bye. Don't forget your AUNT BUSY, j LETTERS AND ANSWERS. Sallda, Colo.. June I, 1902. Dear Aunt Busy: I thought I would write you a let-I let-I tr. If I had $1,000 I would give some I to papa, mama and keep the rest my- J , self till I could. make use of it. . I am 1 11 years old and 1 am in the fifth grade. I will close now, hoping to see j my letter In the paper. Your loving nephew. FRANCIS RE1LLEY. ! Aunt Busy is delighted to bear from a dear new nephew in Colorado. She thinks you would use your $1,000 very 1 sensibly and she hopes that some flay j you will have many thousands to I I pend. f I Brookside, Colo., June 14, 1902. 0 Dear Aunt Busy: I J I am gonig lo write to you a few I lines to lot you know that it is so long , f since I have written to you that I am j sorry. I have a brother who would j like to write, but he is bashful. He 1 is 11 years old and in the frith reader. I I remain your loving niece, JENNIE DALFIOR. I You are very welcome again little f niece. Aunt Busy has missed you. Tell I the bashful brother that Aunt Busy I " wants to hear from him." She dearly j loves all her boys and he must be bright to be In the fifth reader. I Imoil New, June 12, 1902. Dear Aunt Busy: . I hope that you will accept me as one of your nephews. I live far away in Elko county, and did not get much f schooling because I have to work to help papa with the cattle and other I work. I am 11 years old. AYe get the Intermountain Catholic from grandpa, ) who lives in Salt Lake and has a home ';- there. "."We all like the paper and mama thinks it is fine. From a would-be not.hen- .HMKS Sn!AT(l'. I Aunt Busy has an earnest welcome j for the dear nephew from Lamoile, New fche has not heard from a Nevada Ne-vada niece or nephew for many months. Indeed Aunt Busy is de- ! lighted to have you for a nohew. Aunt Busy thinks y.ou are a dir fellow to , help your papa and do you know dear, many of our brightest and best men s have had very little chance to attend 1 school, but by siriil attention to busi- ness and hard work they have been far more succtsful than many college ' bred boys. Aunt Busy may be a little j old fashioned, but she really prefers a I hard working .laboring man to the I general sort of "baby faced" college I youths one unfortunately meets so often these days. K f Donna Maria and the Burglars. I It was a very bi-ave action for a little ! Kirr of 11, but Donna Maria never (nought of it in that way. You see, j I Donna Maria's teacher gave a little lecture to hfr class one day about being kind to animals. She told them how ' I noble and kind it was to do kind deeds, j I to feed the hungry, help the poor, lend ; a helping hand to the needy, and lo be j always courteous and obliging, and how j they must not only be considerate to j people, but also to animals, which were much 'more in need of protection than any person, for they could not speak I for themselves, and make their suffer- ii I ings known. "And' Miss Andrews went on to say. "if you are kind to animals, "you will I J also be attentive to the wants of those j about you. The cruel Nero, they tell ! us, used to amuse himself when a child ! I br sticking flies with a pin. If he had been trained to be tender and merciful tit inferior creatures of creation, he j would never have been the brutal mon- i .ter he became. Now I want you all i ; to promise to do what you can to make ! I animals comfortable and happy.' vIf you I j pfe a starving cat, or an abused dog, or i f a horse overworked, see if you cannot J V do something to better their condition, f 7 AVill you promise me to do this?" I J Thirteen little hands all rose .excit- I edly, ;nd thirteen childish voices ex- . I claimed in chorus: "AVe will! We will!" j I They calLed themselves the "Relief A f club," and eve-y member was pledged if to try to help .wake animals more com- i forta'ble. It was a very active society, and it was really wonderful how much j i misery . was allayed by the efforts of ( ! ! the yiruns: crufaders. Starving cats and dogs had been relieved, sick birds and forlorn kittens had been looked after, af-ter, and on one occasion, a horse being beaten by its brutal master found a protection. All of the members but Donna Maria had done something worthy of the cause; singularly enough, for two or three weeks she did not have a single chance to help a poor, helpless i or persecuted animal. But her opportunity oppor-tunity came at last. She was returning, home from school one afternoon when, as she went past an alely that opened into her street, she heard a dog howl. Several small lads of her own age were standing in an animated group, talking and laughing. laugh-ing. "Let's tie "a rock to him and sink him in the river!" "No, let's get a cat to fight him, and scratch out h'-s eyes." "No, let's fasten a bunch of firecrackers fire-crackers to his tail, and see him" run!" The childish voices rose shrill and eager on the summer air, and the poor Puppy, lifted by brutal hands, by the nape of the nick, emitted another howl for a chorus. In a moment Donna was in their midst, her cheeks flushed an angry red, her blue eyes flashing. "You are mean, wicked boys, to treat a poor, innocent dog so!" she cried. "You shall not have him for any such brutal sport.!'. Donna Maria advanced determinedly, and caught the little frightened animal from the lad who held him. "You have no more right to the cur than we have!" cried one of the boys, as he rudely attempted to gain possession posses-sion of the dog. "You have no right to abuse him," returned Donna, standing her ground, "and if you don't let me alone I will call a policeman, and he Avill put you all under arrest." " Her threat had its effect. The street arabs scampered away as if for their lives, and Donna Maria walked home with her trembling prize as proudly as though she . bore a trophy from the wars. "What in the name of wonder are you going to do with that mangy cur?" inquired in-quired her elder brother, AValdo, as she entered the house. . . . "Oh, you won't talk so," answered Donna, "when you see what a handsome hand-some little fellow he is. I have Just rescued him 'from 'some cruel boys; and, mamma, mayn'.t'I keep him for my own if no one claims him? Just look at his pretty, melting eyes. "Ah. Jack, aren't you glad to be in such safe hands?" Mrs. George intimafed a willingness to gratify her little daughter; and as, after being duly advertised, no one appeared ap-peared to claim the dog, Donna began to quite feel an ownership in the waif. "Jack" was a spaniel, and after, a good bath and a week's kind treatment, proved to be a really handsome fellow to look at. No one could have known him as the same dog that had. been rescued res-cued in the street a few days before. He was devoted to his little mistress, constantly attending her, and her brother jokingly called them "Jack and Jill." "They may . laugh at us all they wish," said Donna, patting Jack's velvety vel-vety head, "but you have the real mettle, met-tle, and you are a dog worth having." And she always insisted that Jack would one day more than pay for his keeping. One Saturday in the fall. Jack and Donna were left alone in the house. Even Kathleen, the cook, had gone out. But the little girl Avas not at all afraid. "AVe do not fear to be alone, do we, jjack?" and Donna coddled upon the sofa, with "Grimm's Fairy Tales" in her hands, while her pet nestled close t beside her. I suppose she must have fallen asleep, for she was aroused by hearing a noise in the dining room, followed by Jack's sharp barking. Startled, she tried to call the dog to her, but he would not be quieted. Going Go-ing to the door and listening, she could plainly hear the sound of stealthy footsteps. foot-steps. '. It must be a burglar, she felt sure, and she began to tremble. But Jack was brave enough: he did not mean to be frightened by burglars or anything else. He kept up a fran- i ,.n,nlnr o t the. dnnr as lie UHimiis, juii""a .. though he would go through it. Finally Final-ly it opened to his repeated assaults, and the dog rushed through with a savage yelp. There was hurried scrambling, scram-bling, emphatic ejaculations, and then silence. When Donna Maria plucked up courage cour-age to investigate she found the door of the safe open, and a mask upon the floor, dropped by one of the would-be robbers in his haste to get away. Forr tunately, no treasure had been carried away, and the family had no doubt that a serious loss had been prevented by Jack's timely attack. - Ever after Jack held a warm place in the hearts of the household, and they were quite content to let him stay! And that was the Avay Donna Maria frightened the burglars away; for if he had not found Jack and rescued res-cued him, the burglars certainly would not have left as they did.-loung Churchman. The Right Kind of a Boy. The other morning we ivere in the midst of a three days' rain. The fire smoked, the" dining room was chilly, and when we assembled for breakfast, papa looked rather grim, and mamma tired- for the baby had been restless all night. Polly was plainly inclined to fretfulness. and theservant girl, Jennie, was undeniably cross, when Jack came in with the breakfast rolls from the baker's. He had taken off his rubber coat and bxiots in the entry, and he came in rosy and smil- "Here's the paper, sir," said he to his father, with such a cheerful tone that his father's brow relaxed; and he said: "Ah, Jack, thank you, quite pleasantly. - ' i His mother looked up at him smil-I smil-I ing. and he just touched her cheek ! gently as he passed." - "Top of the morninj? to you, Polly wog," he said to his little sister, and delivered the . rolls to Jennie, with a "Here;: yfu are, Jennie. Aren't you sorry' you didn't . go yourself this beautiful, day?' . - ' He jraYe the lire -a poke and opened a damper. The smoke ceased, and presently the coals bejran to glow;-and glow;-and five minutes after Jack came in we gathered around the table and were eating our oatmeal as cheerily as passible. This seems very simple in the telling, and Jack never knew he had done any thing at all: but he had. .in fact, changed the whole moral atmosphere of the room, and had started a gloomy day pleasantly for five people.- "He is always so." said his mother, when I spoke to her about it afterward, after-ward, "just so sunny and kind and ready all the time. I suppose there are more brilliant boys in the world than ' mine, but none with a kinder heart or a sweeter temper, I am sure of that." The Locoed Horse. Eert stood with a cigarette in his hand, looking at the "hired ;aa?V who was sitting on a box in the barn dcor. "Chetty," he said,' "I want the same vse I had last year Babe, wasn't it?" "Yes," said Chetty. "I should think you would; she admires you." Now Chetty, .whose size and disposition dispo-sition inclined him to be moderate in his motions, was gifted with eyes which saw everything;, la;ge and small, within the range of his vision. He had been the chief manager of the stock on the Colorado ranch belonging to Bert's father ever since Bert could remember; re-member; and Bert had learned that Chetty's odd remarks had hidden meanings,- which It was well for him to find out cautiously if he did not wish to be caught in some practical joke. "It's natural, Chetty' he replied. "I admire her. In my whole freshman year at college a year wherein I gained great wisdom, Chetty I sa no finer animal than Babe. Has Babe I acquired, as much wisdom as I, Chet-; Chet-; ty, during the past year?" and Bert ' replaced his cigarette in his mouth and beamed on Chetty with mischievous mis-chievous eyes. Chetty watched Bert with an Inscrutable smile. "I believe." he said, "that she's about even with you maybe a little ahead." Chetty arose slowly and called one of the cattle boys who was riding by. "Dick," he said, "bring up Babe, will you?" Dick stopped short. "Babe?" he asked. "Yes," said Chetty, shortly, deliberately deliber-ately seating himself with his back to the boy. It was not long before a handsome hay mare stood in the door. Bert had gone in to put on his riding boots. He came out quicker than was his habit, for he thought he heard a wild clatter of hoofs. Chetty was sitting in the box, however, and Babe was standing, saddled, with her head down. Now, Bert had lived on a ranch every summer sum-mer of his life, and cou!d ride a buck-' ing horse, though he did not know much about the care of stock. "Will she buck?" he asked, as he prepared to mount. "She won't mean to, young man; but her nerves are not so steady as they were last year. Be careful!" ' Bert sprang into the saddle. AA'ith a nervous quiver. Babe rose on her hind feet. straight into the air and fell over backwards. Bert sprang off as she rose and stood looking :at the horse in astonishment. "What's i he matter?" he asked, as the shaking horse scrambled to her feet. Chetty did not answer, and . Bert mounted, again. This time. he was able to get the horse Into the road. Babe went but a little distance, however, before be-fore Bert turned and rode back to the barn, the horse staggering from Side to side. - . - y : , "Chetty," . he said. "she's crazy. AVhat's got Into her?" Chetty, who had risen while Bert was mounting, now' sat down and spoke slowly, with his eyes on the horse: "It's just as J said, young man. You see, a horse hasn't as. long to live as a man, so she's hurried her education a little. She seemed to know It when you had to begin to smoke last fall to keep awake for jour studying, you remember. re-member. Feed got low in the pasture, and she took to gnawing weed seeing she couldn't smoke it. She got into the loco-week, and got down to the roots. It made her feel rather good and she hunted for some more. - It works on her nerves,' like that stuff on yours," pointing to the cigarette. "AA'hen we took her up in the. fall, I saw she Avas some locoed, and I reasoned with her. She said I needn't worry fact was, she could stop any time, and just did it for a little fun. But the amount of It was her nerves were about gone then, and when we put her out in the springs she got some mcfre, and now she can't get along without it." Chetty had been removing the saddle and bridle as he spoke, and now he led her to the pasture back of the ranch house. Then he let go of her head. "Go up to her," he said to the boy. Bert slowly walked toward the poor animal. She seemed to listen as he came up to her. Her ears were pointed toward him, but when he stood before hi. on Innlrincr in fa Vior o-luccv oi'oa said, "Poor Babe!" she gave one wild snort and ran from him like a wild, horse. "She can't see much." explained Chetty. "It's affected the nerves of her eyes." Bert sat on the box by Chetty: "So that's a 'locoed horse,' " he said, slowly. slow-ly. "Poor Babe! Is she good for any- ' thing?" "Not one thing," said Chetty. As Bert got up and walked into the : house, he threw away his cigarette. Sunday School Times. The Kind of a Boy the World Wants. Boys are . always in demand because be-cause they are the material out of which men are made, and as first-class first-class material is always at a premium pre-mium in every line of trade, so the , boys who give promise of making ! first-class men are ''most eagerly sought after. The boy the world Avants today is the one who can be trusted to handle money without any of it sticking to his fingers or finding its way into his pockets. He will take as much interest in-terest in the affairs of his employer a-3 if they were his own, and will stay fifteen minutes without being asked, to finished a piece of work after the whistle blows and the rest of. the men have quit work. He will be able to write a business letter and spell the words correctly, and to add up a column col-umn of figures promptly and accurately. accur-ately. He will lift his cap a.? readily to his sister as "he would were she the sister of some other boy; and he will not be ashamed to w a'.k to cnurch with, his mother, show her into her own pew and sit beside her during the service. ser-vice. He will be careful in making a promiie; and just as careful about keeping it. He will have sufficient moral backbone to say No to those who would lead him astray, and he will have enough courage to own that he is .striving to make a man of himself. him-self. . - . . ..'-:-; .. This is the kind of boy so many are on the lookout for. - ' " |
