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I Our Boys sb?;;: A BIRD THAT CELEBRATES. I know a bird that always wears the colors that we love. The red he carries 011 his breast, the blue he shows above; The white he tucks awav beneath his wine, for it is true Our little blue bird always wears the red, white, and blue. He's patriotic, too, and seeks to celebrate the day As well as little girls and boys, though in a different way. He sends his morning greeting forth with bell and sunrise gun, And keeps it up unceasingly until the set of sun. And when he tucks his tired head beneath his wings of blue. We feel that he has done his best to be a patriot true For he has waved our colors where no flags are ever flung; And there among the leafy trees of freedom he has "ung. ?By Helen M. Richardson, in New Gem. THE DAY MURIEL RAN AWAY. It was in the early autumn. Muriel had been out of sorts for a week. Everything had gone wrong. Even the apples she picked up to eat in the orchard were wormy. The hickory-nuts she cracked were bad. The book she brought from the library in town was minus leaves in the most exciting chapters. Hens ruined her Hower-bed. The children were trials, every one of them! Jimmy was the worst; it did seem as if he planned to be annoying. On Monday after school he borrowed Muriel's dinner-pail and tilled it with toads to turn loose in the garden. That was bad enough, but when Jimmy explained to his father that he read that onetoad was worth $20 a year to the State of Massachusetts in the destruction of insects, and that being the case, six toads were a fortune on any farm, and the dinner-pail could be washed, father laughed; whereupon Muriel determined to run away. It wasn't convenient to run away on a school-day. After thinking the matter over seriously on Wednesday, Muriel decided to leave home 011 Saturday afternoon. To be sure she said nothing to the family about her plans; but oil Thursday mother gave a sigh of relief because of the change in Muriel's behavior. She no longer grumbled at everything, and performed her daily tasks without a murmur. That night, after supper, Louise eut her hand so badly she could neither wash nor wipe the dishes. Great was mother's surprise when Muriel said she was perfectly willing to wash dishes alone, instead of accusing Louise of getting hurt on purpose to escape being obliged to help. After the dishes were put away, Muriel made a book of brown wrapping-paper, sharpened a pencil and went out to the horseblock to do some writing. "What's come over Muriel!" father inquired. "We have to write compositions for next week," Louise replied. "Maybe she has an idea." Muriel had an idea, but the idea was a diary to be consulted in years hence when her grandchildren mierht, wish tn knnw wtiv ? -.J "*V their grandmother ran away. PRESBYTERIAN OF THE S and Girls | "I have reached a turning-point in my life," began the diary. "1 am eleven years old, the oldest child in a family of live children. My parents love all of the other children more than they love me, which is a sad thing. 1 have to wash all the dishes and keep the hens out of the garden. My mother thinks that Louise is perfect, and my father thinks there isn't any one like Jimmy. The babies keep you busy. I don't have very pretty clothes, and lead a miserable life. "Day after tomorrow it will end. I know a little girl that visited the Browns last year and her mother. Her mother said one time if my folks didn't treat me well to come and live with her. So when I run away I am going to their house first and work for my board, and so get a start in life. That is all for now." "Dear me!" said Louise, when Muriel folded her book and put it in her apron-pocket. "I'm glad you have stopped working on your composition. Father wouldn't let me bother you. He said maybe you had a 'riginal idea that would get away if you were disturbed." "Tell tow-ey," begged the three-year-old baby, cuddling close beside Muriel on the doorstep. Muriel put her arms around the little fel low most tenderly and told him his favorite story of three bears and Goldilocks. How that baby would miss his sister after Saturday! "Bedtime now," said mother, who had rocked the little baby to sleep. "One more tow-ey, muvver; nist one more," entreated Richard. "Please, mother, let me tell him one more," added Muriel, hugging the precious little brother tight. How he would miss? her! "Why don't you go upstairs, Louise?" Mu riel inquired when mother began undressing Richard after Louise had said good night to the family. "Waiting for you, of course. You don't suppose I would go up to our room without you, do you?" ' "Well, wait a minute, then," replied Muriel, feeling sorry for the girl. To he sure, Louise would miss her sister all her life. It was sad. It certainly was sad! I'm going in to have a look at the baby," she added. "I'll be gone only a minute." Muriel knelt by the crib and kissed the ' sleeping infant. Tears filled her eyes. Baby would never remember her sister Muriel. i & ttr i- i ? wny, wnat are you crying about?" demanded Jimmy when Muriel came out of the bedroom with wet eye-lashes. '"She looked so sweet," said Muriel, softly. "Bless your heart," exclaimed mother, drawing Muriel to her side, "when you were a bal)y I couldn't look at you sometimes and keep the tears back. You were my lirst baby, and you seemed too sweet and dear to live." "Love you ten bushels!" Richard called as Muriel followed Louise into the hall. "Mother does, too," floated up the stairs. That was distressingly sad. Muriel hadn't realized that mother cared so much. The following day, her last entire day at home, Muriel was a model daughter and sister. When she washed the supper dishes Louise stayed in the kitchen and read a story aloud. "I'll never grumble about washing dishes again," declared Louise. "It makes me ashamed of myself to have to make you do it all. Let's never be shirkers again, Muriel." m O U T H. lJuly 7, 1915 "I know we've been horrid to eaeh other about dishes," agreed Muriel. "What if there were only one of us?" "Oh," bethought Louise, "don't mention it! Why, I just couldn't live without you." That was tragic sadness. It gave Muriel h lump in her throat and made her hand so awkward she almost dropped .Jimmy's "For a Good Roy" cup that was given to him when he was five years old. Jimmy was a <mod boy, after all, when you thought it over and compared him with other boys. He would probably miss his sister too. By this time Muriel was convinced thai the only way to run away from home was to run away before you stopped to consider the feelings of the family. Saturday, Muriel moved slowly about the house, helping her mother?taking care of the baby, telling Richard many stories, and wondering where she would sleep that night. The child planned to slip away after dinner; but the postman left a letter from Aunt Katie, which announced that she and grandma would arrive that afternoon to stay a week before going on to New York. This meant that Jimmy must be sent to the back lot after berries for supper. "I don't want to go alone," objected the boy. "Come along with me, Muriel, please!" Jimmy must have been surprised when Muriel consented. lie didn't know, of course, that the little girl couldn't refuse his request under the circumstances. She wished her brother's last memories of her to be of great kindness. On the way home with the berries Jimmy wondered what had happened to Muriel's tongue. She simply wouldn't talk. Ilow could she when she kept thinking that never again would she and Jimmy cross the fields to tr ether! At four o'clock Muriel ran away. She went as far as the garden gate. There she sat upon a stone and pitied, not the sorrowing family, but herself. It was sad that she must run away. It was sad that Muriel's tears wet the brown paper diary?the only possession she was taking with her into the world. Suddenly .Richard's-bright head popped in view. He was running down the garden path much excited. Aunt Katie had arrived and had brought him the big red balloon he was waving in the air. "Merl," he called, "turn home!" "I will!" responded sister Muriel, who lived happily ever after?that is, after she destroyed the diary which must never be seen by her grandchildren.?Frances Margaret Fox. RATHER THAN BREAK THE SABBATH. In the college where I studied two girls had a long paper to prepare for Monday morning. Rather than break the Sabbath, they sat up till twelve o'clock on Saturday, and arose at twelve on Sunday. Many of their friends, even of those who approved most heartily of Sabbath observance, criticized the action as foolish, saying that for the sake of their health they mjght make an exception. They a"' swered that a rule once broken was always harder to keep thereafter, and that they wanted to make it so hard for themselves that they would never again leave work till late Saturday night. The good effect of their resolution was immediately visible throughout the hall in which they lived. Fully ten girls who had grown nix in tneir observance decided on mai Sunday morning to get- up early Monday rather than work in the afternoon. From thai time. 011 Sabbath observance increased greatly and work was planned so that the early rising on Monday was not an alternative.?Anna Louise Strong. \ ?