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The Children’s Song. The glorious spring is really here; The gladdest time of all the year. When with our kites and tops we play, And happy are the live long day. All through the meadows coming green. The loveliest blossoms now are seen; And swelling buds do fill the trees That sway their branches to the breese. ' 7 The birds are twittering everywhere. And with their glndness fill the air. All nature smiles, as gay we sing— “Rejoice ye while the time Is Spring.” ANNA JAMES. Conundrums Why la a man walking against tho wind like a dressmaker finishing a skirt? Both are “facing It.” When is a lady’s Jacket like a China man's cue? When braided. When Is a door like little girls’ hair? When banged. When Is a dollar like the holy days? When lent. When are navy beans like drunkards? When soaked. LITTLE, PANSY, and Her Experience in the City. BY WILLIAM WALLACE, JR. Old Daisy, the roan mare, was the proud mother of a handsome colt. Early the next morning after Its advent Into the stable lot the children ran out to meet the little newcomer and to settle on a name for It. “Let’s call her Pansy,” cried Mabelle. “For see how purplish her eyes are.” “Yes, she’s a beaut!” declared Mark, Mabelle’s brother, who owned old Daisy and therefore was the possessor of the pretty new colt. Now Mark was a lad of 14. nnd wns therefore considered a mere child, wtallo the little colt's mother, who was born on the same day that Mark was born, was called “old” Daisy. This shows you how quickly a horse reaches Its maturity ns compared with the human race. It was this coincidence of birth that caused Mark's father to give Daisy, when a new born colt, to Mark, who was at the same time a new-born babe. So the two had grown up together. Mark loving “old” Daisy ns only a boy can love his own horse or dog. Of course, this new colt was not old Daisy’s only child. There were Tom and Bill, a pair of stalwart farm horses who were In appearance as old at Daisy her self. Then there was Jessie. Daisy’s third child, who was s beautiful, grace ful mare belonging to Mabelle, being the little girl's saddle and harness animal. Then last, till the birth of this new colt, was Pretty Peg. so railed because of her dainty white feet nnd snowy face. She wbr the driving horse for Mark's and Mabelle’s parents, and, I* D ilsy and Jessie wns kept “In clover,” so to speak. So you see old Daisy had a large fam ily. all being full gTOwn except tbe little newcomer, who was to become tbe barn yard pet, and who on the morning after her birth wns named Pansy. “My, she’s as soft ns satin!” exclaimed Mark, rubbing Pansy’s silken coat softly with the palm of his hands. “And Just see how spry she Is.” he went on as the day-old little thing trotted off across the lot as briskly as a year old. For. unlike human babies, the horse baby has the fnll use of Its slim, long legs when first coming Into the world. Maybe this Is because the horse mother has no arms and hands with which to hold and fondle her young. “She’s all black except her face nnd left forefoot!” said Mabelle. examining tbe frisking little Pansy. “If you should sell or trade her off we’d always recognize her wherever we’d see her'.’’ “I don’t think I’ll ever dispose of her. she's too pretty.” said Mark, looking with pleasure on his new possession. “She shall be my saddle horse Instead of Daisy, who Is now a hit old.” And ho the time wore on nnd the little Pansy grew into a fine nnd beautiful Ally, as graceful ns a deer nnd as gentle ns n child, for she wns really the pet of all the family. But one day when Pansy was nearly three years old there came to the farm two young men who were kinsmen of the family. They were from the great city, some 'twenty miles distant. They came In a trap drawn by a high-headed horse that attracted the attention of Pansy. She admired this city horse’s tail—or lack of tall, rather, for the poor fellow had about six Inches of bushy stub where a long flowing tall had once been. And his cropped inane also roused the admir ation of poor country cousin Pansy, who could herself boast of the most beautiful flowing mane nnd tail that ever grew on a beautiful filly. As the city kinsmen had come to spend two days with their country relatives the horse which had caused such a sen nntlon wns unhitched and turned intq the pasture with Pansy. Then, to Pansy’s surprise, his high head dropped and hung In a lifeless manner, and in stead of running about nnd kicking up his heels—ns Pansy did—he dropped nnd slept under a tree, resting his tired feet nnd joints. In ^aln did Pansy try to rouse the visitor to aot'vlly by run ning. leaping, kicking and neighing about him; he stood ns If deaf, dumb nnd blind, paying not the sllgi test heed to her manner of cordial welcome. The fact was that he was so worn out with constantly being in the harness nnd trotting over hard paved streets, with his bead reined up till sometimes It seemed his poor tired neck would break, that when the rare opportunity came for a day’s rest he made the most of every minute, relaxing himself all over and doing nothing save eat, drink and sleep. But Pansy did not understand the city horse’s reason for remaining so unfriend ly. She took It for granted that he felt out of his element In the country and was merely pining for his city friends. Then she began to envy him his hap py, eventful life, for Rhe hod heard how the horses In cities were driven to costly carriages In beautiful parks nnd kept In stables finer than the best houses In the country; nnd she had heard of the enormous prices paid by city people for fine young driving or saddle horses, for had not her master. Mark, told In her henring that he could get an enormous price for Pansy should he take her to the city and offer her for sale? But also Murk had said that nothing would Induce his to dispose of his pretty favorite whom he had al ready broken to harness and would break to the saddle in a few months. But Pansy began to long to leave this ?nlet, restful home In the country, dke many human beings. Pansy—only I a poor dumb animal—did not under stand how mnch she hnd to he tbnnkfnl for. And she made up her mind tw watch the direction taken by the city horse when he should be driven away, and to leave the home where she had i always been so carefully reared and go to the city, following the route taken by the city horse. The following day the city relatives took their leave, and it was with many anticipations that Tansy stood knee deep In clover and pasture grass watch ing the high trap roll down the road leading over the hills to the city, far away, for she hnd made up her mind to leave home that night as soon ns all was quiet about the barnyard and pas ture. Since the warm spring weather had come Pansy, ns well an her mother, sis ters and brothers, stayed out in the pos ture over night. Instead of being housed up In the warm stables. So, all that Pansy hnd to do to claim her liberty was to Jump the high fence that bor dered the pasture and the world would lie open before her. And so It happened that as the clock In the farm house was striking eight Pansy, after a whinny of farewell to her loved ones of the pasture gathered herself together for the Jump, ran and cleared the fence at a bound. Then along the broad road she galloped to ward the great city which held so many mysteries for her—and surprises as well. She had traveled perhaps fifteen miles when, feeling thirsty and a bit tired aha drew In at a long, queer-looking house, whose windows were aglow with light, and began nosing round for some winter. Going Into the rear yard she espied a row of boggy sheds and stables, ■fust at the minute when Pansy entered this yard a man came from one of the sheds leading a limping old horse which • was hitched to a bnnsom cab. On see ing Pansy the man stopped, dropped the horse’s bridle rein and puckering up his Ups whistled: "Whew! I bet that's a stray." Then he looked quick ly round to see If anyone was in sight. Seeing no signs of human life he ran to his cab and drew forth a halterl Then he advanced towards Pansy, say ing: “Whoa, pretty gurl, come—don’t be afraid," and held out his hand to her Invitingly. Pansy, used to eating sugar from her young master’s hnn 1. felt no fear of the stranger; and sup posing that he also held some dainty morsel for her, she walked right to him and put her nose Into his palm. In another moment the halter was about her neck and the end of It tied to the high sent behind the hansom. Then the man quickly mounted to his place on the cab, clucked to the old horse and away they went out of the yard Into the big road. "Holy Moses! she am a beaut," muttred the cabby, looking round on Pansy, who trotted behind very willingly, seeing that her new master was going In the direc tion she wished to go. “Say, ole feller’’— talking to himself—"but you’ve made a lacky trip of It to this country Inn to night. Brung two gents over frum town, got my reg’lar fee. a nice little tip and a flue critter besides. Oh, I guess not!" Then he whipped up the limping horse for fear someone might be following In search of the stray Ally. "I reckon," he went on, “that she’s not used to a city, but I’ll soon get her broke In. This old plug I’m drlvln’ Is fit for the bone yard now, and this new comer is just In time. Once I git her under cover of the city, dock her tall and dip her mane her own mother wouldn't know her.” And so they traveled on for nearly an hour before they came In hen ring of the “Oh, my poor, poor, pretty Pan«y!" cried .ilurk, tenrn tlllliiK his eyes. noises of the city. Then the rumble of street cars, the roar of rushing trains, the rattle of countless wheels over the hard streets made such a deafening noise that Pansy became frightened and drew back on the halter. But the cabby coaxed her, and being accustomed to putting her trust In people she went on behind her captor. At the entrance to the city the cab turned Into a narrow, noisy st-' -t that thronged with people and vehicles. After going several blocks the hansor.. stopped In front of a dirty. Ill-looking stable and Pansy was turned over to a rough stable man who Jerked and kicked her Into a foul-smelling stifling stall. “Whur’d you pick ’er up?" asked the stable hand, ty ing Pansy In place. “Oh, I got ’er at a bargain,” replied the cabby, grinning and winking. “We’ll have to disguise her fer awhile, though. First thing, that tall and mane comes off. Then we’ll stain that white mug eh?” The stable hand looked knowingly, and winking back replied. “Shore, we’ll fix 'er so her own mother wouldn’t know >r. Say—she Is a daisy, though, ain't she.” “Jest what we needed to take the place of old Bone.v that I’ve Jnst brung In; he’s past travelin’ much longer. 'Bout next week he’ll be turned Into fertilizer.” And poor Pansy, standing cramped In that dingy, stifling stall, heard and un derstood. • • • •••••• When Mark discovered that Pansy was misRlng from her home he was too deeply grieved to be consoled. A systematic search was made for her, but to no avail. Advertisements apprr-ed In all the county, town and city papers, offering a liberal reward for the return of the much loved Pansy: but the weeks sped Into months and the fall set In, and still no news of the missing filly was received at the farm. One evening Mark came Into his moth er's room and said: "Mamma. I feel that some day dear Pansy will turn up at borne. 1 know that the minute she gets free from whoever has her In captivity she’ll start for this little spot, and shc’il keep on traveling till she hns found It. She was too happy and well cared for here to put up with living In any other place.” “I hope you are a true soothsayer, dear son,” replied his mother. “Yes. Pans/ was a fine animal, so knowing and gentle. In fact, she was the finest eolt old Daisy ever had. Pretty-Peg not excepted.” The next morning when Mark went to the barnyard to perform bis early chores he cast hts eyes over the big clover pas ture where Pansy was wont to spend so much of her time. And there—he could scarcely believe bis eye—stood Pausy near the gate which opened Into the stable lot. Mark did not wait to open the gate, he leaped over It, and ran with outstretched arms to his dear Pansy, who, understand ing the token of her young master’s joy at beholding her. came trotting to meet him. And as Mark rubbed and patted her neck she rubbed her soft uose lovingly against his cheek, caressing him Just as n little child caresses its beloved parents. Then Mark began to examine the once beautiful animal. The poor tall had been docked, the mnne cropped and her white face was all dirty from some dark stain that had been smeared on It. And how worn and thin she wns. Her pretty head drooped and she constantly rested flrRt one tired foot then another. In fact, the poor Pansy had been serving as a cab horse, eating and sleeping—when oppor tunity for sleep wonld occasionally come as she stood by the curb waiting for a passenger—In the harness. And how sore her feet were from trotting over the Iron like pnved streets. Her Joints, too, acbed till she wns In constant misery. “Oh, my poor, pretty Pansy 1” cried Mark, tears filling his eyes. “Bnt yon shall have the tenderest nursing and com plete rest till you are vonr old splendid self again. Ah. If T only knew who had stolen you and used you so badly!” And Mark tightened his fists Into hard knots as he shook them at the Imaginary thief who had thus wronged his beautiful Ally and himself. Pansy only rubbed her nose against h‘ cheek, for she could not tell him that It was through her own foolishness and Ig norance that she had been made to suffer so. But she could show her love for him. and. furthermore, she could profit by the awful experience she had Just suffered, and In the future nothing conld Indnce her to leave that dear old home unless Mark rode or drove her. With him "lie was safe and happy, and Mark, loving her so devotedly, vowed to never part from her while they both should live. And another thing that Pansy would have told—had she possessed the powe. of speech—when her young master wns worrying to find out the secret of her re turn. She would have told him one nlebt she was taken verv sick and wns led Into n lot behind the dirty stable to rest and be doctored. But before the veterinarian could arrive she had gathered together what little strength she had left and. Jumping the fence that formed the enclo sure. she had gone down the street ns fast ns her crippled feet could carry her. In the mad flight men and boys gave her chase, but to no purpose. Pansy wns now running for her life. Through crowds of pedestrians, among n network of vehicles, ncross numerous street car tracks. In and out. she went as one mnd. every nervo strained to Its utmost. And. when nt Inst she bad gained the country, she san*'' down on the soft grass beside a fresh pool of water to rest. All that night and a part of the following day she lay and slept and dreamed of the Joy of homecoming which was so soon to be hers, and when the cool of the following afternoon was over every thing she got up. (' ank deeply from the pool, nibbled a little grass by the road side and went on toward her home, the home which she reached safely and where she Is to this day; though the Incidents just related happened some three years ago. and Pansy Is the proud mother of a two-year-old filly and a month-old baby colt, all loved and cared -or by Mark. Mabelle and their parents. 'She Story of a Top. BY MAUD WALKER. Wbw I left the toy factory I wns taken to a great department store where 1 was put In the basement along with thousands of other toys for sale. But after the holi day season had passed 1 proved to be one of those unfortunates (although It proved afterward that 1 was fortunate In being left) called “left-overs,” and It fell to our lot to be put on a long counter where a great placard read: “Bargains In chil dren’s toys. Anything ou this counter 5 cents." Of course, any self respecting toy re sents being a “left over” and having to be sold at a “bargain” to someone who Is too poor to buy at full price. But In this Instance niy case proved to be the excep tion, ho far as the "poor person” was con cerned in the purchase of myself. One day as 1 lay. half dead from lack of exerclHe, on the table In the big base ment, there came along the aisle a lady and a little hoy. The child's eye was cangbt by my bright color and he stopped. •Ob. mamma,” he cried, pointing at me. “why not get a top for tho little sick gtrl?” “Bat tops are for boys,” said the lad' stopping and looking at me also “Well, I’d think a girl would like a top better than a doll,” argued the little boy. “Dolls are pretty enough to look at— but they have no life In them; they Just lie about like dead things. Now a top Is like a real live thing. It hops and spins and makes the greatest fun. I’d say a top erory time—If It’s for a sick child.” The lady picked me up and spun me on the edge of the table. “My, It’s a dandy spinner!” cried the boy. And he spoke rightly,too, for I liked him and had do- » my best to please him. “All right, we’ll get both the top nnd the doll,” said the Indy. “When the little girl grows tired of one she can play with the other.” Then the Indy handed me to the saleswoman nnd bad me done up or her. In another minute 1 found myself in the little boy’s overcoat pocket with his warm palm closed lovingly over me. After riding quite n long way through noisy city streets the cab we were In drew up In front of n house—which, of course, I could not see. being, ns I was. closed up in a dark pocket and the lady and little boy sprang to the pavement and knocked at n door. 'Tome In,” called a weak.childish voice. And In we went, 1 still In the clasp of the boy’s palm. “Weil, how are you today?" asked the Indy In a sweet, gentle voice. And I heard her go to u corner of the room and kiss someone. “I am tired nnd lonely,” answered the weak, childish voice. “Mamma had to go to the factory today, for. If she stayed away any longer she'd loose her job; then we’d have no money to buy food with.” “Well, we’ve brought you some pretty toys and also a basket of things good to cut," said the lady. Then she told the little boy to get me out of bis pocket and give me to the sick child. The room 1 saw when I carhe out of that warm, cosy pocket was small and gloomy. In one corner stood a bed, uear a window. In which the sick child lay. She was paie, turn nnd had great blue eyes that seemed to reflect the color of the summer skies. Her goldeu huir fell in curls about her slim neck. “Oh, a top—a top!” the little girl ex •1st km I (M |)U1 1 lately danced Jlpa all oeee that plate." THat Penny. & A little old penny Lay In the street; Half hid In the dust Near a little boy’s feet. The child saw the coin. Ills face wore n grin; One round, chubby palm Soon hid penny In. ^35#^ Clatter, Hatter so fast, Went the little boy's feet. As ho Hew like the wind Down the great busy street. Toward a push cart he sped— For one was In sight— And he held up to view The penny so bright. “I want a big apple!" lit* cried out In glee. “And here la the penny To pay for It, see?" The pushcart man looked. And then shook Ids head: “Your penny’s no good— A hole's in it,” he said. The little hoy’s face Lost its broad happy smile. He stood In deep thought. Eyeing the penny th’ while. Then Into his pocket The penny he slipped. And away down the street Ho merrily skipped. "Well, if nobody'll have It," He to himself spoke, “I’ll keep It forever. And never broke." MAUD WALKER. claimed on beholding me; and to my In tense vanity she scarcely noticed the beautiful doll. Of course, she thanked the lady sweetly for the gifts, but the doll was placed ou the foot of the bed and her attention was turned to me. The boy mounted to the side of the bed aud began spinning me on an old plate which Ills mother had brought from an old cup board. And how I did spin! 1 fairly danced Jigs all over that plate, jumped to the floor aud ran about like a popin jay, at last tumbling over and lying on my ®lde under the table. At these capers the little girl laughed aud laughed till j the "tears tilled her heaven-blue eyes. In fact, when the lady brought a tray of dainty food to her she coukl scarcely take time to eat It, so absorbed was she in me cud my antics. After awhile the little girl's mother came home. She was delighted to see the lady and little boy there, aud with tears in her eyes she thanked them for their mauy kindnesses to her little ;Irl aud herself, saying that she did not know how slu* should have got on without their assistance, seeing that her little daughter had been ill so long. "Oh, mamma, just see!” cried the sick child. "I can spin the top as well as Johnny can. Just watch It!'* And slie turned my heud between her thlu, cold little fingers and set me off ou the plate. “Why didn't 1 think to get a top lor her before?'' exclaimed her mother, not ing the animation lu the child's face. “Why, It's worth more than all the medicine In the world. She will soon be well If that top keeps on spinning." And you may better believe 1 kept oo •pinning. The children who had uot cared to come In to sit with a sick com rade came trooping lu now to watch ib* wonderful top aud to nurse the pretty , (loll. Thus the merry companionship of little human beluga as well as the per formances of myself and the presence of the doll wrought a miraculous change lu the sick child. Day by day she grew stronger and would leave her bed to sit on a big fur rug (brought by tlie lady and little boy) and spiu me by the hour. Other toys seemed to have no interest for her. i was her constant companion. I learned to spin on my head and also on my side, Just to make her laugh, for 1 knew that laughter would cure her more quickly than anything else. So there we were, the greatest chums In the world, I cutting up unties and she laughing on to health. So the weeks wore away, and with the adveut of April my little lady was often able to go m the carriage of the good lady and little boy for u drive In the park. But she never went without me, for, as she said one day to the boy. through whose Inllueuce 1 had been given to her: “This little spinner has spun me on the road to health uud happiness.” Well, all this occurred a long. long time ago, and my little lady has grown to.be u woman now and is married and has u dear little son of her own. But she never has allowed him to play with me, for she declares that 1 saved her life and brought her a husband, too. for In very • truth, that same little boy who took uie to her grew up to love her, and when they had both arrived at the proper age they were married. Now I have a place In u beautiful gilt and glass cabinet among bits of rare bric-a-brac worth their weight in gold; but among all this rare collection 1 am Uie one most prized, aud proudly 1 stand in my beautiful case, leaning against h Sevres dray., with all the dignity of a loved toy who had once beeu a “leftover” I In a department store and who was sold | ns a flve-ceut bargain. And so It was that I spun my way up In life by giving the best that was In me to the little sick girl who was In such desperate peed of ipe. And now/ ns I finish this story of my life, let me say that 1 am not a prisoner. Not at nil; l am the favorite of the cabi net. and did 1 desire It I might be given to the little son of tills happy household as a plaything; but I am old now, and, having been a busy top in my palmy days, I am happy to stay In this case of beautiful objects of art and rest In my declining years, enjoying the happine3s about me. . L ~ _ ■ ■ Boys, Would You be Good Speakers. I BY PE DIME COGIE.j. Boys, would you be good speakers? When 1 ask this question I refer to speaking In public. Now, few boys who are called upon to speak before mixed audiences can rise and do so easily aud gracefully. It is a fact to be regretted that the art of speak ing In public—for art It Is—Is so seldom cultivated by the youth of the land. Many of our cleverest boys, who can speak fluently at school and at home. \>i 11 make a mess of expressing a simple thought If called upon to do so In public. Even the best oration, carefully com mitted to memory and studied In gesture, [ will be spoiled by the young orator's ap parent embarrassment and choking voice. Iioys who are noted for their ease of manner when In society will suddenly become clumsy and awkward on the plat form when standing before that fcrmld able thing called nn audience. Here Is a plan that one boy adopted to enable him to overcome the uupleasant effects of that strange sensation common ly called “stage fright.” On rising to be gin his address he would select some one person In the audience who he knew was In sympathy with him. Then he would force himself to forget that there were others present, and talk for that one per son alone, looking over the heads of the crowd and never allowing himself to catch the eyes of anyone. He declared that by this method he had been enabled to speak without the least embarrassment and bis memory never failed him. Another fine antidote for stage fright Is to take the audience Into your confidence the Instant you feel that horrible sensa- j tion coming over you. Simply fold your arms, step to the fi^ont of the stage or platform, and say to those present: “La- ! dies and gentlemeu, I have suddenly been overcome by stage fright! My mem ory fails me, a lump—as yon may note— chokes my throat and prevents easy ut terance, therefore, 1 ask your kind In dulgence for a moment till I may recover myself. If you will oblige my by luugh ing—not at me, mind you, but at any- j thing else funny you may see—l shall be greatly obliged to you one and all.” This unusual mode of procedure will cause laughter and applause, as well as putting the speaker on the most Intimate terms with his hearers. Thus the shock of stage fright will pass away, bis voice will become certain and his memory re turn. nil through getting the audience relaxed and friendly, and gaining for himself a few minutes la which he may collect Ills wits. When boys are Just beginning to speak In public they should alwnys prepare notes of refereuce, for the most retentive memory will fall at such times, and young orator will find himself In need of these little scraps of paper that whisper to him certain facts he otherwise would rummage about In his muddled brain fo~; thus appearing ill at ease and uninter esting. Any address intended for the public should be carefully arranged and thor oughly memorized with spirited and graceful gestures. Another most import ant thing to be remembered is the use of the voice and distluct enunciation. Culti vate a clear, deep tone, and let It be loud enough to carry your words to the farth est corner of the room In which you speak. Some boys have naturally weak, high pitched voices. Such should go Into the country and “vocalize” for half an hour each day. Deep breathing, opening the throat, crying out at the top of one's voice and running the vocal scale will < wonders toward strengthening and deep ening the voice. The Birthplace of Certain Plants. Celery was first grown In Germany. Italy was the first home of the chest nut. The onion Is from Egypt. Tobacco Is a native of North America. Spinach was originally an Arabiaa plant. The radish Is a Chinese product. Rye was first cultivated in Siberia. Greece gave us the citron.