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Our Boys and Girls POLLY'S DAY OF "FUN." Polly Ann Smith was plainly in a bad temp er. Her forehead was puckered into ugly frowns, and her eyes looked out from beneath with a cold, unloving gleam- To begin with, Polly did not like her name, and as today was the first day of school, she had just been obliged to tell it to the new teacher. Moreover, Anna bel Moore sat right across the aisle and the teacher had called Annabel "dear" ? Polly thought "Annabel" the prettiest name in all the world, and "Polly" the homeliest. When recess came, Polly marched off by her self into a corner; from there she sulkily watched her friends playing tag. Pretty soon, a pair of flying little feet dashed by her, and a smart tap tingled on her arm. "Tag! You're it!" exclaimed Annabel Moore, breathlessly. "I ain't neither ? I ain't playing!" said Pol ly, sourly. Annabel laughed good-naturedly. "O come, Polly," she coaxed. Don't be so grumpy. Come ? be good and play " "I don't want to be good! Good folks are stupid!" declared Polly, Arossly. "Why Polly Smith, what an idea!" ex claimed Annabel in a shocked voice. "Well, what is being good?" demanded Pol ly, quickly. The sudden question surprised Annabel not a little, but she began her answer bravelj enough, though she faltered after the first two words. "Why, it's ? it's ? being good, of course; do ing things for folks to make 'em happy. You ? you won't be happy yourself, either, if you aren't good!" she added with sudden dignity, trying to speak like mamma. Polly shrugged her shoulders and turned away. A few minutes later, recess being over, Polly sat in her seat, listlessly turning the leaves of her reader. Suddenly she started, and looked fixedly at a few words near the top of one of the pages- "The easiest way to be happy one's self is to make some one eise hap py," she read, and shut the book with a bang, causing the teacher to look down sharply at her. Hard as she tried, Polly could not drive this new idea from her thoughts and it made her restless all the afternoon. By night she had sullenly decided to "try it and see what 'twas good for, anyhow!" She made up her mind that she would begin the next morning and see if she could find any one to make happy. The next day she jumped out of bed and ran happily to the window, but a frown quickly appeared on her forehead ? it was raining, and Polly particularly disliked rain. Her face was the picture of woe when she sat down to the breakfast table. She had forgotten all about what she was going to try to do that day until she saw her grandmother hunting everywhere for her glasses. "O dear," thought Pollys impatiently, "I wonder if that is the kind of things that makes folks happy ! Have I got to hunt up those tire some glasses!" - But in another moment she was searching in what she knew were the favorite hiding places of those frequently lost glasses, and it was not long before she found them and carried them with sheepish smile to her grandmother. "Why, thank you ? er ? dear," murmured the old lady in some surprise. Polly turned quickly and ran out of the room. There was a queer little feeling in her throat ; she wondered what it was- Then she put on her hat and coat, and catching up her books and her lunch basket, opened her um brella and started for school. Just ahead of her she spied the familiar red hair belonging to Nellie Jones, and involun tarily her steps shortened. Polly did not like Nellie Jones; in fact, none of the girls did, and the poor child was left forlorn on all occasions. "Dear me!" said Polly to herself with a despairing sigh. "I s'pose 'twould make her happy, now, if I let her walk to school with me. Well, then, I expect I'll have to do it ? but I don't see as there is anything so very hap pyfying to me in this sort of doings!" And she hastened her steps until she reached Nellie's side. "Do you want to walk under my umbrella 1" asked Polly a trifle ungraciously. The supreme delight that showed at once on Nellie '8 plain little face sent that same queer feeling again to Polly's throat. By the time the schoolhouse was reached, the two girls were chatting quite happily together; Nellie was tell ing Polly of a brand-new place to find black berries. The morning passed quietly- Polly began to take a strange interest in looking for chances to loan her pet "pencils and the big, soft sponge that the other girls so admired. She was wonderfully gracious with her smiles all the morning, too. By afternoon Polly had forgotten al about her "game," as she called it ? for her studies and recitations kept her very busy. When school was dismissed she joined a lit tle group of girls outside the schoolhouse, and helped to make joyous plans for the picnic that was to come off Saturday afternoon. As she turned to go home a little later, she found the new teacher at her side. "Well, my dear, you seem to be wearing a very smiling face. I think you must be happy over something." Polly skipped joyously. She was thinking of the picnic. "I am ? and I've had lots of fun, today, too!" she exclaimed ; then she suddenly remembered, and stopped short, looking up into the teacher's face in astonishment. "Why, Miss Adams ? it did work, didn't it?" "What 'worked' my dear? I haven't the I least idea what you mean," replied Miss Adams, in mild surprise. Polly laughed, and colored a rosy red. "O, nothing much, but ? I ? I guess I'll try it again, sometime!" ? Congregationalism LITTLE SCOTCH GRANITE. 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. He was as far advanced in his studies as they were, and the first dy he went to school they thought him remarkably good. He wasted no time in play when he should have been study ing. 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 whis pered." "More than once?" asked the teacher. "Yes, sir," answered Willie. "As many as ten times!" "Maybe I have," faltered Willie. "Then I shall mark you zero," said the teacher sternly, "and that is a great dis grace." "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 1 lent a pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. I supposed it was allowed." "O, we all do it!" said Burt, reddening. "There isn't any sense in the old rule; and nobody could keep it, nobody does." "I will or else I will say I haven't," said Willie. "Do you suppose I would tell ten lies in one heap?" "O, 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?" laugh ed Willie bravely. In a short time the boys all saw how it was with him. lie studied hard, played with all his might in playtime; but, according to his account, he lost more credits than any of the rest. 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. Nor did it take them very long to know just where Willie stood 011 other things, for he was true to his colors every time. He was a temperance boy; they all knew it, and he was proud of it. They talked him all over and loved him if they did nickname him "Scotch Granite," 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 Garibaldi, the great hero. "The signs of his rank were hidden, but the hero was there just the same," said the teach er. "And now, boys, you will see what I mean when I give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy ? the one really the most conscien tiously 'perfect in his deportment' among you. Who shall have it?" "Little Scotch Granite!" shouted forty boys at once ; for the child whose name was so "low" on the credit list had made truth noble in their eyes. ? British Evangelist. Children's Letters FRENCH CHILDREN'S FUND. Previously received, $42.20 ; six friends, Lynchburg, Va.? $3 ; Mary and Margery Dame ron, $1 ; *the CJlemmer family, $3; Mrs. W. H. Wassum, $3; Miss P. M. Anderson, $1; James and Anne Powell, $1 ; Douglas, Louise and Mrs. C. M. Boram, $2; William J. Teel and brothers, $1.25; Sue Underhill, 25 cents; Lilly Waddell, $1 ; Marion and Margaret Hart, $1 ; Nelle Dudley, $2; Miss Sue Anderson, $1; Sarah, Kate and Jack Patton, $1; #Edward Traynham, 25 cents; ?Armiatead Traynham.