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Our Boys and Girls
i THE FUSSING PLACE. I have to go the Fussing Place When I am very bad; And mother has such a sorry face, And her eyes look sad. But she says in just the firmest tone, "The boy that fusses must stay alone," When I have been bad. At first I pretend I do not care, And I hum a tune And walk off with my head in the air; But pretty soon 1 begin to hate the Fussing Place, And to be there seems a great disgrace, So I stop my tune. And then I think of mother's eyes With that sorry look; And soon I think it is time to surprise Her over her book. So I hunt up a smile and put it on (For I can't come out till the frowns nre gone). How happy she'll look' The Fussing Place? Oh, it's where you're sent When you are naughty and mean. And there you must stay till you're good again And fit to be seen. It' sup in the attic or under the stairs Or seated on one of the kitchen chairs, And oh, you feel mean! But it doesn't matter much where it is ? This old Fussing' Place ? For the very spot that seems so bad When you're in di?gru<e, It's nice enough when you're loving and true So it's not where you are, but how you do. That makes it a Fussing Place. ? Annie Wills McCullough, in Exchange. QUEER PANEKA. Her home is in Czechoslovakia ami there isn't another Junior like her in all the world. This is how she became a Junior. The Ked Cross at the town where this queer Junior stays decided to send a girl named Kacenku to the seaside and her brother Janieka to the children's hospital. Now the brother and sis ter were from a very poor family who had nothing but rags for bedding. The school teacher, on learning this, said to the Junior Ked Cross members : "Children, can you help? Those of you who keep geese ask your mothers for some feath ers and we will make a pillow for Kacenku - and a feather bed for Janieka." The boys and girls eagerly agreed and from '?lass to class the stock of feathers grew, lle linka, of the third grade, who had looked rather worried when the teacher asked for feathers, appeared one day with a small bun dle. "See, teacher!" she cried. "We haven't any Keese, but Panenka sent her little feather l.ed!" "Then Panenka is a Junior, too," said the ? eacher. "But take the bed back to her and tell her it would be a pity to rip it, up." "No, no, the feathers will help keep Kacenka warm in winter at the seaside- -Panenka sent "'cm for Kacenku!" cried lielinka, almost '?eady to cry. So the little feather bed was opened and Helinka herself emptied the feathers into the '?ornmon pile, which grew and grew into a father bed and a pillow. Surely Janieka and Paeenku will sleep sweet ly on the bed and the pillow formed of the little handfuls of feathers which represent so much love on the part of the children? and ? , > of the doll! For Pancnka is a doll, the only Junior doll in the world. HE WANTED TO LEARN. Most boys want to know, but not all arc willing to take the trouble to learn. Those who are willing to take this trouble get their reward some time. A writer in "The Myrtle" tells how one boy persisted in spite of a Rood deal of discour agement, and how his persistence was re warded. More than a hundred years ago a stont, freckle-faced, awkward boy of eighteen years, dressed in a ragged waistcoat and short breech es, without stockings or shoes, rapped one evening at the door of a humble cottage in northern England, and asked to see the village schoolmaster. "When that person appeared the boy said, very modestly, "1 would like to at tend your evening school, sir." 44 And what do you wish to study f" asked the teacher, roughly. "I want to learn to read and write, sir," an swered the lad. The schoolmaster glanced at the boy's home ly faee and rough clothes scornfully, and sai<l : "Very well, you may attend, but an awkward, bare-legged laddie like you would better be doing something else than learning his letters." Then he closed the door in the lad's face. This boy was the son of the fireman of a pumping engine in a Northumberland coal mine, and was born one hundred and thirty two years ago ? on June 9, 1781, to be exact. His birthplace was a hovel, with a clay floor, mud walls and bare rafters. When he was five years old he began to work for by living by herding cows in the daytime and barring up the gates at night. As he grew older he was set to picking stones from the coal, and after that he had to drive a horse which drew coal from the pit. He went half fed and half clothed. When lie called at the schoolhouse ho was a plugman of a pumping engine, and, though he knew nothing of reading or writ ing, he had studied the engine until he had a complete knowledge of the machine. He was able to take it apart and make any ordinary repairs. Not discouraged by the advice given him by the schoolmaster, he made application and at tended the evening school. At the end of about two years he had learned all this school could teach him. He conceived the plan of constructing a steam engine. It took him a long time, but at the age of forty he had made several engines, and was known as a success ful and energetic engineer, and was called upon to build long and difficult lines of rail road: But his locomotives were too slow; he wanted them to run faster. He proposed to build one that would run at the rate of twelve miles an hour! Everybody laughed at him. Some thought he was crazy. One gentleman, who considered himself very wise, said to him: "Suppose you invent an engine capable of run ning nine or ten miles an hour and suppose, while it is running, a cow should stray upon the track. Will not that be a very awkward circumstance!" "I should think it might be very awkward ? for the cow," he answered. Well, lie succceded in making his locomotive, and at a trial which took place near Liver pool it attained to the unprecedented speed of fourteen miles an hour! By making certain improvements this same engine, the Rocket, was made to go at the speed of thirty miles an hour. People laughed no longer. lie was invited as a consulting engineer to foreign countries and wealth flowed upon him. Philosophers sought his friendship, and his king offered him knighthood, but he preferred to remain plain George Stephenson. That is the name of this "awkward laddie," who be came the inventor of the locomotive. ? Selected. THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS. At evening when the lamp is lit, Around tiie tire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now. with my little gun I crawl. All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie. And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods. These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink. I see the others far away As if in flrelit camp they lay. And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about. So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks i At my dear land of Story books. ? Robert Louis Stevenson. CHINESE MISSIONARY SOCIETY. My Dear Miss Argyle : I am three years old, today, and so happy over what has happened in these three years I thought I would write to you, for I have many grown-up sisters in America, who though different from me in some ways, in others are like me, and I am sure they will be interested in their little sis ter. They, like me, are interested in making Christ known to the whole world, and though, as yet, my contributions have all been given to work in my own country, my big sisters will think that quite right, I am sure, when they consider that one-fourth of the peopulation of the earth is in our China. I send all my gifts to our Southwestern Province of Yunnan, to help support the mis sion there, established by our Chinese church. I want to ask the children who write letter to you to pray for me, that T may grow strong er and stronger, and bigger and bigger, and better and better, and more and more useful as my years increase. 1 hope the children will ask my big sisters in America also to pray for me. It is really through their prayers and gifts that I knew of the love of Jesus, and am now trying to send the Light to others. Your young friend, The Missionary Society of the Great Peace Bridge Chapel. Hangchow, China. We are very glad to have a letter from thin three-year-old missionary society and will tell the older societies in this conntry about it. ? H. A.