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Our Boys and Girls
HOW TRIXIE EARNED HER LUNCH BONES. Trixie was a lovely white silky-haired ilog with the cutest little black spot on each ear, and the tip of her ever-friendly wagging tail, and she was the beloved pet of a little girl named Priscilla. Now Trixie often went to the store when Priscilla accompanied her mother and it happened one day when Trixie went along the kind-hearted butcher man, seeing the friendly little dog looking longingly at the meat, yet never offering to touch anything, threw her the end of a soup bone. To the butcher man's surprise, Trixie gave a delightful little bark, which said, "Thank you," as plainly as any dog could say it. "That's quite a smart little dog you've gut there," the butcher man said to Priscilla " What's her name?" "Her name's Trixie," priscilla answered, "and she's tricky, too." "I can well believe that," the butcher man laughed. "Would you like to see her do some stunts?" asked Priscilla. "Come around tomorrow about noon," fhe butcher man answered. "I won't be quite so busy then." So the next day Priscilla took Trixie? along with her to the butcher man's place, and when the dog had performed a number of cute little tricks the buteher man gave her a nice, rich, juicy bone. That was how it happened that every day about noon a little white dog with a black spot on each ear and the tip of her tail would enter a meat market, and standing on her hind feet with her paws propped against the counter, would give a little bark to attract the butcher man 's attention, and beg with her gentle brown eyes while she waited for the bone which she never failed to receive. "You're about the nicest little dog there is," the butcher man declared, as he gav?s Trixie the end of a juicy bone, and Trixie never forgot her "thank you" bark as she picked up the bone and trotted proudly off in the direction of home. When Priscilla saw Trixie coming home the first time all by herself with a fresh bone in her mouth, the little girl ran laughing to her mother. "Mamma," she said, "Trixie has learned how to go after her own lunch bones." "I'm afraid Trixie is becoming a nuisance at the meat shop," Mrs. Deveny replied. "I'll have to see the butcher man about it." So the next day when Priscilla and her mother went to the meat market they decided to keep the dog at home, but Trixie slyly slipped out the back door and beat them to the shop, and to their great surprise they found Trixie at her accustomed place by the counter, waiting patiently for the bone, which she always received. "I'm afraid that dog's making you a lot of trouble," Mrs. Deveny said to the butcher man. ' ' Not at all, ma 'am, ' ' he assured her. 4 4 She 's a dog in a thousand, for I can go out and leave her alone and she never touches a thing ? she reallv earns her bones by her nice, polite ways." ? The Lutheran. TOMMY'S THANKSGIVING I'm thankful for a lot of things. I'm thankful I'm alive; I'm thankful that I'm six years old, Instead of only Ave; I'm thankful for my tops and toys And for my Kitty Gray; I'm thankful for the big outdoors Where I can run and play; I'm thankful for the things that grow ? The apples, aren't they good? The corn where we played hide-and-seek, As in a little wood; I'm thankful for the pumpkins round. Just like a golden ball, And Jack-o'-lanterns, big and queer ? They don't scare me at all; I'm thankful for Thanksgiving Day, For pies all in a row; I'm thankful, for grandma made them sweet, She knows I like them so; I'm thankful for the turkey, too. How brown it is and nice! And I'd be thankful, please. For only one more slice. ? Youth's Companion. WHAT ARE LITTLE BOYS MADE OF? This is the story of a little boy who got out of the wrong side of the bed. I am afraid it was not the first time Paul had done that, either. "I'm going to be naughty today," he cheerfully told Aunt Ann when she washed his face that morning. Ann looked grave. "Little boys who talk so end in tears before bedtime," she replied. But Paul did not feel at all like teal's, but like teasing. Betty and Cousin Joan wanted to amuse themselves, and Paul thought girls were silly. Betty sometimes cried when he called her names, but Cousin Joan always an swered back. She called after him today in answer to his teasing: "Snips and snails and puppy dog tails." Paul didn't care. He rather liked snips and snails. To begin with, he walked along the vine bor der because it was forbidden. Thomas, the gardener, was waiting to speak to him when he reached the wall. "That's a funny thing, Master Paul," said he. "I just cut this here little bunch of grapes for you, being as they hung too thick, but after you treatin' the poor old vine so bad those grapes go elsewhere." And ho put that nice little bunch in his basket as he walked off. "Silly old Billy," murmured Paul. But he would have liked those grapes. Later ha spied the doll family, and a grand idea for teasing came to ljim. Selecting the little girls' best dolls, he tucked them into his belt and began to climb the cedar. lie could climb like a squirrel, and ho went ever so high. Then he scrambled as far as he dared along one of the branches and hung Selina and Belinda by their flaxen hair from the strongest twigs. He had scarcely gotten down when the little girls came running out. They sighed aloud when they saw Paul. It was Joan who beheld the awful sight of the hanging favorites. She shed real tears then, and so did Betty. "All their hair will be pulled out," sobbed Betty, "and their new frocks spoiled." Joan's anger was hot. "You've got to go up and fetch those dolls at once!" she said. And as Paul was a little afraid of Joan, he climbed the tree. He disentangled Selina 's hair and was about to free Belinda when- -it was a rather thin little bough Paul had bal anced on, and Selina had nearly fallen onto Joan's upturned face. In grabbing to save Selina Paul jerked, the bough cracked, and with a yell of terror down came Paul, heels over head, topsy-turvy onto the ground with Selina and Belinda on top of him. "He's killed!" screamed Betty. "O darling, darling Paul!" Joan was practical. She made a rush for the house and nurse. Paul wasn't killed. Hi had broken his leg. Ann had been right. He did cry before bed time, and it was worse than cryng for poor Paul. It was pain, such bad pain, which tho doctor said he bore quite bravely and called him a plucky little man. And Betty and J?;an waited on him so kindly during those long weeks. He had half expected Joan 1o s?iy, "It serves you right," but she did not say it. She did not even seem to think it. And although they were terribly long weeks, they were not wasted weeks, for Paul was learning three things: patience, gratitude, and gentleness. Joan was quite outspoken about it that day when Paul thanked her and Betty for bringing him so many raspberries. "We love to wait on you, poor Paid," she said, "because ? isn't it rather funny? ? your poor broken leg has turned you from snips and snails and puppy dog tails to sugar and spice and all that's nice." How they all laughed ! But Paul grew anx ious. "Do you think I'm getting girlish?" he asked in such horror that the little girls had to laugh again as they assured him he wasn't that at all but the nicest boy that could be. I believe that was worth having a broken leg for. ? Exchange. THE DINNER THAT FLEW AWAY. "O weathercock," the turkey said, Upon an autumn morning, "Keep good lookout, and turn about. And mind you give us warning. "We haven't got a calendar To tell us of the date; So watch you for Thanksgiving signs Before it is too late." "Why, sure,*' said the friendly bird, "I'll cock my weather eye, And tell you when the pumkins come. To make the pumpkin pie." Thanksgiving morn the farmer cried: "They've gone ? that horrid flock! There's not a bird to cook, unless We cook the weather cock!" ? Selected. A NOVEMBER WIND. The Wind is out with his broom today. And he sweeps the loaves from his path away. He whirls the dust through the street along. And he f-ings as he passes this lusty song: "Sweep oh! Sweep oh! From the end of the earth I go! Over the hills, the streets, the town, Over the valleys sear and brown, I and my broom together go. Singing, Sweep oh! Sweep oh! Sweep oh!" And then he comes with a mighty roar And rush and bluster the country o'er; Trumpeting over each flower-decked way, Wielding his broom with a martial sway. Shouting hoarsely: "To bed! To bed! My voice is mighty; your day is o'er; Down Into your chamber; I'll shut the door! "Sweep oh! Sweep oh! Instead of dust there will he snow." Children's Friend.