The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 25 November 1915, Page 61

The Family Circle

A BOY'S TROUBLES. It isn't much fun a-living^ If grandpa says what's true, That this is the jolliest time of life That I'm a-passing' through. I'm afraid he can't • remember. It's been so awful long; I'm sure if he could recollect He'd know that he was wrong. Did he ever have, I wonder, A sister just like mine, Who'd take his. skates, or take his kite, Or tangle up his twine ? Did he ever chop the kindling Or fetch in coal and wood, Or offer to turn the wringer. If he did, he was awful good. In summer, it's weed the garden,' In winter it's ' shovel the snow,' For there isn't a single season But has work, you know. And then when a fellow's tired, And hopes he may just sit still, It's ' bring me a pail of water, son, From the spring at the foot of the hill. How can grandpa remember, A fellow's grief or joy? 'Tween you and me, I don't believe He ever was a boy. Is this the jolliest "time of .life? Believe it I never can, Nor that it's as nice to be a boy As a really grown-up man.

LITTLE STRAIT LACE.

Burt and Johnnie Lee were delighted when their Scotch cousin came to live with them. He was little, but very bright and full of fun. He could tell curious things about his home in Scotland and his voyage across the ocean. lie was as far advanced in his studies as they were, and the first day he went to school they thought him remarkably good. He wasted no time in play when he should have been studying, and he advanced finely. At night, before the-close of the school, the teacher called the roll, and the boys began to answer ' Ten.' When Willie understood that he was to say ' Ten ' if he had not whispered during the day, he replied : ' I have whispered.'

'More than once?' asked the teacher

' Yes, sir,' answered Willie

'As many as ten times?' ' Maybe I have,' faltered Willie. 'Then I mark you "zero,''' said the teacher,: sternly; 'and that is a great"disgrace.' ' Why, I did not see you whisper once,' said Johnnie that night after school. ' Well, I did,' said Willie. ' I saw others doing it, and so I asked to "borrow a book ; then I lent a slate-pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. I suppose it was allowed.' Oh, we all do it!' said Burt, reddening. 'There* isn't any sense in the old rule; and nobody could keep it—nobody does.' i

I will, or else I will say I haven't,' said Willie. ' Do you suppose I would tell ten lies in one heap?' ' Oh, we don't call them lies,' muttered Johnnie. ' There wouldn't be a credit among us at night if we were so strict.'

' What of that, if you told the truth ?' laughed Willie, bravely. _ ■ ~ I In a short time the boys all saw how it was' with him. - He studied hard, played with all his might in play time; but, according to his account, he lost more credits than any of the rest. After some weeks the

boys answered Nine and 'Eight' oftener thanr they used to. Yet the schoolroom seemed to ; have grown quieter. Sometimes, when Willie. Grant's mark, was even lower than usual, the teacher would smile peculiarly, but said no more of disgrace. ..Willie never preached at them or told- tales; but somehow" it made the boys ashamed of themselves, just the seeing that this sturdy, blue-eyed boy must tell- the truth. It was putting the clean cloth by the half-soiled one, you see; and they felt like cheats and story-tellers. They talked him all over and loved him, if they did nickname him 'Strait Lace,' he was so firm about a promise. '"' Well, at the end of the term Willie's name was very low down on the credit-list. When it was read he had hard work not to cry, for he was very sensitive, and he had tried hard to be perfect. But the very last thing that day was a speech by the teacher, who told of once seeing a man muffled up in a cloak. He was passing him without a look, when he was told the man was General Sheridan, the great hero. ' The signs of his rank were hidden, but the hero was there just the same,' said the teacher. « And now, boys, you will see what I mean when I give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy—the only really most conscientiously "perfect in his deportment among you. Who shall have it?' :. • ' 'Little Strait Lace!' shouted forty boys at once, lor the child whose name was so ' low on the creditlist, had made truth noble in their eyes.

'IS YOUR MOTHER A LADY?'

The long verandah of the summer hotel was fullof guests. There were children among them; and more conspicuous than any others (says a writer in Youth's Companion) were three little girls who were displaying their summer frocks, and incidentally their characters -and upbringing, before all the world. Little Miss Milward, an invalid, reclined in a deep morris chair nearly at the end of the porch, with her strong Swedish maid in close attendance. Not far off, Monsieur Boquel, a rather well-known French man of letters, was apparently lost in the pages of a magazine. Sitting on the steps at the very end, Margaret Valence, pretty, young, and full of girlish charm, worked at a piece of delicate embroidery in Bulgarian shades. ' s The children, not content with childish play, made themselves first conspicuous and then annoying. The eldest, a girl of ten, whose parents were not at the hotel, took advantage of a certain pert glibness of tongue to molest older people, especially nervous little Miss Mil ward. '

When her teasing had more than once brought a flush to the invalid's cheeks, the Swedish maid peremptorily ordered the children away. The little girl laughed rudely, and redoubled; her pert attentions. Then she ran away to prepare for a new sally. She did not return, for a hand was laid forcibly on her shoulder, and a deep, pleasant voice said, in tones loud enough to be heard by all about: ' Stop a moment, mon enfant, and answer a question for me. Is your mother a lady?' The child looked up at the speaker. He was a man of renown, and the assurance died out of her face as her eyes met his. .His eyes were very clear and juercing. . ' Why——of course.' ' Then she would be terribly chagrined if she could see her little daughter these evenings,,' was the answer. ' For you see, my child, all who witness your conduct judge of the mother by the daughter, and the daughter is not a little lady.' " ..'" - He released the.little girl. She was glad to run away. _.„-

To Margaret Valence's cheeks had come a flush. ' All who witness your conduct judge of the mother by the daughter.' She-thought... of a gentlewomanone to whom that name belonged by right—sitting tonight under the vine-covered porch of grandmother's old homestead. Was anyone asking -whether-she was a lady ' ,;'■ '".-' . '■' - t . -••' "• • - -' /" '' N :-. ■'•'' ■>%££

The flush deepened. Last night Margaret and a band of newly-made friends had taken an automobile ride to "a city restaurant. They—well, they had been merry, and not quite decorous. She remembered the little note made into a pellet and flung over the heads of guests at an intervening table, to fall on the plate of a young man who was an acquaintance of her own. 'ls your mother a lady The words rang in her ears. She had meant no harm, but did she want her, mother to be judged by that lightly flung note ? 'The daughter is not. a. lady.' She seemed to hear the words from the lips of a white-headed man who had looked up at her from the intervening . table last night. ' No, she was not/ Margaret said to herself. ■' But she is going to be in the future.'

THAT SETTLED THE CASE.

The following story illustrates how an old Irishman won his case some time since in a provincial police court (says a writer in the Advocate). The old man, who. had a pet dog, lived in a small hut near a farmer, who also possessed a favorite canine. The two dogs were bitter enemies. One evening, just at dusk, they met. A fight ensued, and the farmer's dog drove the other, howling, into his master's hut. Here the combat was continued. In the darkness the old man seized one of the dogs by the tail, and was dragging him towards the door, when the animal turned on him, and, biting him on the arm, inflicted such injuries as necessitated his remaining in hospital for some weeks. On his discharge he at once claimed compensation, and a police court case quickly followed. The complainant told his story, as related above. Defendant's counsel rose to cross-examine him. ' You have told the Bench, sir, that these two dogs were fighting in your hut?' 'Yes.' 1 And that the hut was in darkness?' 'lt was.' ' And that, in the pitch darkness, you seized a dog by the tail, and that dog turned on you and bit your wrist?' 'He did.' ' Now, sir,' said the lawyer sternly, 'as there was no light whatever to show you which of the two dogs you seized by the tail, how do you know that it was not your own dog that bit you?' The reply came instantly: 'My dog has no tail, so that settles that!' And it did 'settle' the case; he got damages and costs.

SPARE PARTS NOT REQUIRED.

The cabby and the chauffeur had a slight altercation, and the former, in approved sarcastic style, inquired :

' And what's that pretty thin*? stunk iid on the side?'

' Why, that's a spare rim and tyre in case any of the wheels go wrong as any sensible man knows.' ' Well, I've drove 'osses for nigh on twenty years, an' I never carried a "spare leg for one of 'em yet!'

SUFFERED FROM OPTIMISM.

A district visitor was paying calls on the folk in a row of cottages, and was shocked by the conduct olf a shabbily-dressed old gentleman, who passed from door to door in a great rage, and threatened the occupants with all manner of dire penalties. L ' Dear me, what a peculiar old man !' she exclaimed to one of the tenants. 'Why do you permit lim to abuse you in that fashion?' ' Oh, we don't mind in the least, ma'am,' answered the tenant, with a twinkle in his eyes. . _' We're quite used to his little ways by now. He's been a harmless lunatic for ten or eleven years.' '•""" ..' You don't say so ! Poor old fellow ! What particular form does his madness take?' :.

~ .;' Optimism, ma'am. He comes for the rent every Monday, and actually allows ; himself to -fancy that he'll get it/ , ~j V; - • v v ; :' : ■^^■r-i^M

A REPENTANT LOOK.

A young' man was sitting in a barber's shop looking at a magazine when an old farmer, with little knowledge or -appreciation of literary people, stepped uph** behind his chair and looked over his shoulder. ' Who's them he inquired, pointing to a group of . - portraits. 'Well-known authors and playwrights,' was the reply. . . -'; 'Humph!' ejaculated the farmer, contemptuously. ' Jist writin' fellers, eh ?' Then he caught sight of an C •author with a long, solemn face,- and his eyes sparkled. ' ' That's the one I like,' he said with decision, putting . his finger on the writer's mournful countenance. 'Oh, yes; nearly everyone likes him,' agreed the young man. ' His humorous writings are ' ' Don't know nothin' 'bout his writin', but I like his face.'

Who so?'

' 'Cause he's the only feller that looks like he was sorry for what he'd done.'

DELAYED HER APPEARANCE.

Amateur theatrical companies are proverbially courageous, and perhaps that is the reason why the Puddlecombe Thespians selected ' lolanthe ' as the means by which they would astonish the natives. As every lover of Gilbert and Sullivan is aware, one of the most effective scenes in the opera is the rising of lolanthe from the bed of a beautiful river, and it seemed that this scene would go particularly well. The queen and fairies had sung their welcome well, the limelight was full on.

'lolanthe! Come lolanthe!' sang the fairies. But lolanthe did not appear. The queen waved her wand frantically, and the fairies anxiously repeated : 'lolanthe! Come, lolanthe!'

It was a tense moment, and the excitement Had communicated itself to the audience. Again the invitation was repeated, and then a petulant voice from beneath the water's silvery surface was heard : 'Oh, do be quiet!' it said. 'Can't you see I'm caught on a nail?'

STARTING WELL.

One afternoon, while a stranger was attending to . some business in a grocery store, an old man rambled in. The stranger became interested, and asked him his age. 'I am just one hundred years old/ answered the old man, sitting on a packing box. ' Well, I'll bet you don't live to see another hundred.' ' I don't know about that,' was the smiling rejoinder of the aged native. ' I'm a lot stronger than I was when I started on my first hundred.' NOT WHAT HE MEANT. Doctor: ' Well, Casey, are the eyes improving?' Patient: ' Sure, they are, sir. Doctor: ' Can you see better ? Can you see the nurse now?' Patient: ' Sure, I can, sir. Faith, she gets and plainer every day. idfljfl*