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Wf ./V'"""' TTrPrTT"^Tv^rrrr v ^mssaA ^B I v£iecessary A Dorothy. 4 v fJOW. I*. was half-past ten in the morning of a glorious Fourth of July in Venice—glorious with radiant sunshine, blue sky, and shimmering waters. There was no display of flags and bunting, no sound of fire-crackers, nothing that makes the man, of Chicago, aged eleven, walking beside £,!°Tel all night, and Mrs. Stoneman, suffering with a heajj ache, having sought the quiet of her room, it chanced that Dorothy and her father started for a few hours' sight-seeing by themselves. At home Dorothy had prided herself upon .being one ©f.the most patriotic girls in the country. Jtrst before the Fourth she had always made out a list of fire works for her father to bring her—-what she considered, for the proper celebration of the day. Hav- mg no brothers, Elmer Dewey, who lived next door, used to come over and assist both in selecting the flre- works and in celebrating with them. He had given her a small flag when they said good-by, and she had promised to carry it all day and to think of him on *i ajihe Fourth of July, wherever she might be. This bad been only three months ago. But when ffnu^0jng from place to place in a foreign country it is ''hot always an easy matter even to keep trace of what •.-rtpday of the week it is and there being no preparation' jww^oing on, as there are in America, to remind them of "^fhe approach qf tjie Fourth, it, slipped into place like any ordinary day, and no one recognized it A short-walk brought Dorothy and her fatherto the front of a great church, before a recess, high up over the entrance of which stood four bronze horses, and Mr. Stoneman, taking a book from his pocket, came to a standstill. It was doubtless all well worth looking at, but soon an object caught Dorothy's eye that was of much greater interest to her than churches or bronze horses. A little girl of about her own age was crossing the square toward where they were standing. She was Jbareheaded, and her small face was full of winning gentleness. She was all brown,—hair, eyes and com* flexion varying in shade from chocolate to cream,— Ind her frock looked as if it had faded for the purpose «^§if blending with the tints of the wearer. Across one j. v Shoulder she carried a sort of wooden yoke, som*-. '^tiling like an Indian bow, from each end of which was ^."suspended a small copper bucket filled with watir. Mr. Stoneman was gazing upward, absorbed in con- Italian, but it needed no interpreter to make eithex understand. Dorothy put out her hand and caressingly touched ^the somewhat soiled one of her companion, and the ••'smiling continued. All at once, as if some recollec tion had cothe to her, the small brown water-carrier turned to where her buckets were standing, and raising the yoke to her shoulder,—with a backward glance showing her face still illuminated,—trotted awajt»«nd ^disappeared round an adjacent corner. %, Mr. Stoneman being still absorbed in the study of the front of the church, Dorothy walked to the corner a moment later, to see if her new acquaintance* was still in sight. Yes, there she was stopping at art open door and Dorothy ran down the narrow street to exchange smiles with her once more. The little brown maidet# put down her buckets, and the children drew near and •looked into each other's face again. There was a gul as wide as the world between them, but the living in-» Stinct of childish sympathy spun its invisible thread from heart to heart. An untidy woman, and a little tot who evidently had ^fancied a morning Walk before being washed, stopped "in passing to gare at the unusual sight of the little American in their neighborhood. Half a dozen boya and girls of assorted sizes joined them, and before Dorothy was aware she was the center of a curious group. It suddenly occurred to her that she was out o# her lather's sight and had better return. Edging her way out between the spectators, she tripped back to the Corner. V: It looked like the same comer she had turned a few inutes before, but before going many steps beyond $he discovered that she had made a mistake. There was nothing in sight that she remembered. Retracing her steps, she tried again but instead of coming to the church where she had left her father, she found her self at the end of a street where a short flight of stone steps led down to a canal. It came to Dorothy with a sudden thrill—a thrill that went from her heart out to the ends of her fingers and toes and back again—that she was lost! Her father had reneatedly warned her not to wander from his sight. She vividlv remembered the warning She was too frightened to cry. Round the corner and up another narrow street she ran, over a bridge fhat seemed to her excited senses to be stretched across the canal by magic at her approach. At the next corner she paused for breath. Dark, strange faces were passing to and fro, but their glances, though not unfriendly, only added to her alarm. She was about to start again, in another ft Ifffq Ctmel^Wesbratttm. Big mar? 5. poster: D.or^ day noticeable in America, and Dorothy Stone- foment *he templation. of Ihe bronze horses, and the girl observ -. •. Ing his attitude and ^parent interest stopped, sl.pped familiar friends trDoro'thy w^T^rXhSr 1" ,! the yoke from her shoulder, and placing the buckets ©anion's hand upon the ground, came close beside him and looked up ?aTh i..' in the same direction with frowning curiosity. It may have been that sh£ thought something was V about to take place with those horses, or perhaps she could not understand why the tall stranger was gazing at then^ Whatever it was, Sfter a short scrutiny she .% turned away, and in doing so came face to face with ^^The 'iittle ffirls looked at earh other and tfc«. P0'"1.!11^,m an opposite direction, murmured some un t. I looKea at acn otner, and then both intelligible words, and Dorothv drvintr her tears w*nt untied at once, w1® English and the othei* in "wlllinirlv with her in th* riiroAt.v.^ vc ca"t MniWlMIMinilSlllliiiiini'fd 3 "ll UJ the smi,e of h®t father that bright morning, never once thought sutriciently to show half her white teeth, Dorothy's what day it was. -. arms were elapsed about her, and in the great uni They had arrived In Venice early, after traveling "-"--3"-"^ 0 4 rection, when her heart gave a bound of joy. Sud denly, as though she had come up out of the stones ©i the street, the little brown water-carrier stood be fore her! had known in her life what it was to be fclt *ladnesa Over a bridge or two, and then a few yards beside a canal,—it was but a very short distance, although porothy seemed to have gone miles,—when a sudden turn brought them into the square where the great cnurch stood. The_ bronze horses looked quite like .. her com place where she had left her ather. ran tn th* I u on was aPPcared of that the brown maiden had widened tears CVCj sh- made known her Passe«-by stopped, and there was much talk ing and gesticulating, as if all were offering advice,— -which doubtless was the case,—and then the Venetian i $ ^3^ IKSTAWT. UTH TH* SOIk CAf |K girl took Dorothy by the hand, and with an under standing between them as perfect as if it had been expressed words, they left the chattering group and tripped back up the quaint old street. arop u pln Whcre shc had There were a number of people moving about the souare, but Mr. Stoneman was nowhere to be seen. Oorothy looked in every direction, and then the tears nsjumed and again flooded her blue eyes. The little Venetian undoubtedly understood the sitti~ ation, for she took Dorothy's hand once more, and -willingly with her in the direction indicated A few minutes' walk brought them to the side of the square, where a broad flight of steps l$d down to the water, and a row of long, slender black boats, or gondolas, were moored. Th7 Pau£ed at the top, and the little brown girl looked up and down among the boatmen lying idly aiKut. Very likely she was looking for some gondolier who was known to understand English. Dorothy's glances also were wandering about, and all at once |®cy something that set her heart beating again in the most violent manner. There, on the shining blue-green waters before her, was a gondola silently gliding toward the place where they were standing. The only occupant beside the .Italian who stood up pro filing it was a boy somewhat Older than herself, wearing a sailor-cap and blouse. neither the fine gondola nor its occupants vhat caused the commotion under Dorothy's bodice. £t was the fond, familiar sight of an American flag which she saw flying at the stern of the boat! Never before, though she loved them well, had the Stars and half so dear and beautiful to her. With a cry of welcome that startled the idlers about the landing, she ran down the stone steps, and reached *l»e water s edge just at the moment that the graceful gondola came alongside. An instant later the boy, cap in hand, was standing beside her. He was a head taller than she, with the friendliest gray eyes imaginable, and hair that looked Dronze the sunshine. Dorothy saw that he was almost as distinctly Ameri can as the flag. Eagerly, as if she feared he might escape before she could make known her need, she burst out, a tone the genuine distrr«£ of which there was no mistaking: Oh, excuse me, but you are an American, are n't you. and won you please help me to find my father Jost him, and don't know my way or—or any* i!1®'' The tears were coming again. Don't—don't cry," said the boy, replacing his cap With one hand. "You 11 soon find your father." And then, by way of further consolation, he added: "One get lost for very long in Venice." 'porothy held an entirely different opinion, hut she old not contradict him. She brokenly told him of the morning's experience, not forgetting the part the little, brown girl (who had drawn near and was watching w,th deep interest) had played. Do you remember the name of the hotel where you are staying?" he asked, as she paused to tuck away her handkerchief somewhere beneath the folds of her ffoA. "The Grand Hotel," answered Dorothy, her face •». l»d .homrtK e w 1^'PeoP,e The boy's eyes looked friendlier than eve* as fie said: nam®, te" The marble front" of the hotel was soon pointed out, and, as they drew near, Dorothy recognized among several figures on the porch the form of her father, home one in the group called his^ attention to the au Pr°u gondola, and then theVte was a waving of hands and the sound ot voices eslanging happy greet* mgs across the caoal. and a few ftfinutes later the little Party alighted at the steps. Mr. Stoneman s face still wore an anxious look. He had been just about setting out with a guide to search for Dorothy. Introductions and explanations followed, and Bet ina eye* sparkled at sight of the silver coins that Dc^othy s father placed in her little brown palm. lo Paul he gave his warmest jhanks, with many a hearty handshake. After^this I shall be prouder than ever of Young America, added Mr. Stoneman, putting his arm about in? *1 sllo"Jdcrs- There like those of my own country." 1 v": "I don't know your name yet.' "Oh," exclaimed Dorothy, "I forgot we were strangers I Then they both laughed and the little Venetian, being within the influence, smiled. "I 'm Dorothy Stoneman/' she continued, "and we live in Chicago. And, oh, I 'd like so much to find out her name! —indicating the little brown girt "She has been so jpod to me!" "That s easy to find out," replied the boy. And, to Dorothys surprise, he addressed the little Venetian In her own tongue. «nier 'f Bettina," he announced a moment later. hcr how mtJch I thank her," said Doro thy, and that I want her to stay with me till I find father, and he 'II give her some money." This was duly interpreted, and the brown face Beamed. "Now," said the young knight, "I '11 take you to the hotel. our father would very likely go back there first, I believe, for a guide." He spoke a few words in Italian to the man who had ^remained standing in the gondola, an apparently in terested spectator throughout the interview. Silently the boat was turned about and brought to a standstill at the steps. Dorothy was gallantly assisted to a seat Bettma stepped lightly in without help. Then the boy seated himself, facing Dorothy, and the gondola glided out on the smooth, bright water.. It was like a scene out of a story-book, and in the troubles tI?e sltuati°n Dorothy forgot her STANDING ftKSICE HEX* i Before the hotel came in sight she and her new ac quaintance were on terms of friendship that under or dinary circumstances it. wpuld have taken weeks to reach. In the exchange of confidences she learned that her companion s name was Paul Mathews, that he and his parents had been living in Venice a year, and that their home was in Boston, where they expected to re turn in the autumn, to which time he was longingly looking forward. mv are no boys jn the world not5ced first," cried Dorothy. "If it had nt been for that I might n't have seen Paul How lovely it is —looking at him admiringly—"to think you always carry our flag on your gondola!" ....... But I dont—always," replied Paul, honestly "only on American holidays. Of course we celebrate the glorious Fourth, and this being the Fourth of July—" l^jJr no' gasped Dorothy, interrupting "it can't !t_had fallen like a bolt from, a clear Ay. A vision of Chicago, and Elmer Dewey, and the flag that had been lying folded in the bottom of the trunk for three months, came before her. weTofget???" She CHed repro*chfuI,y- Mr. Stoneman stared blankly, and Bettina's eyes grew grave with wondering what all the excitement was "There 'a plenty of time yet to celebrate," ventured could grasped the situation, A A understand,' sorrowfully replied Doro thy. And then she told him about her playmate at home, and of his partiftg gift, which she had promised happen* to be" Pcn nce ^ay wherever she might "I 'H be so ashamed to tell him that I fogot it was the Fourth until almost noon," she concluded, with a deep sigh. The thought of the offense against patriot ism was overwhelming. ... can't be helped,' said Mr. Stoneman, in a sympa thizing voice. We must get the flag out now, and make the best of a bad matter." Paul had taken out his watch and was intently loo 16 mg at it: then for the second time that morning He came to Dorothy's rescue. This time he brought an inspiration instead of a gondola, but it served her ne«t just as well. "We 've all forgotten about the difference of time^ he said, his gray eyes dark in their earnestness. "It% not quite five o clock in the morning in Chicago nom there are just wakintr up." The sunshine broke out on Dorothy's face and hflr teet began to dance. She grasped Betfina by her dilh engaged hand, and in an ecstasy of delight cried out: Get the fla#. quiCK, papa Just (hink nf it not. up yet, the day is n't begiin, and we have n't loifc the Fourth of July, after all I" COfVmaHT OCMTUMV COMPANY g.,jr, v iil,ii i:Sl^':,l:.i!i i:., .^ilil1:.!:!!, ANO .^#i ., A u shnni tStl i A £jme mf n arts 6f felt V s JMpfr. By JOim MOTT. ,.k a e heard of Venice, that curious city on Adriatic Sea where the streets are canals and the men go from place to place in gondolas instead of in carnages. Long ago Venice was one of the wealthiest cities in the word: its great fleets brought home the merchandise of the East, jewels and silks and spices: its merchant princes built those beautiful palaces which stand to-day beside the Grand Canal, most of them sadly in need of repair, it is true, but majestic still, though the plaster is foiling from their weather-beaten i" Fcr.haP5. Venice is even more beautiful now in it decay than it was Vn the days of its greatest glory, !f. b®auty own, softer and more delf- of,.yovtt-J11* h"ght iertinPth* V t-ho^?h weaJth ie^r vm colors which once shone with dazzling brilliancy under the Italian sky Scbd!1e^ flowed like those of an old and commerce are de- SCa' ,ts ,?vc,incss land and America, and even from far-awav Ch?na »tv! Japan. These visitors come in the greatest numbers in the early springtime, for then the weather is best" the days are clear and fine, and the bright southern sun makes Italy warm and delightful when people in n£rth*™ count"« wrow increases from year to year and attracts to it thousands of visitors are still severing with th? cold. So dunng the pleasant spriijg days the oId square of San Marco the Public (lardew, and Tht bathing beach at the Lido are crowded with stransrrc While the graceful black gondolas wlyich dart through nearly ail decorated with the a| AY*, it {t V-, J#.' 1 „-V fin ,Wtl center lt s 6 (AW AJfTIQU* STAXmWAY A CAVAX, XW VXMlGi thi earth: from Germany and Eng- ... .«*-» u r&swsMassts fla^s of foreign countries, among which the Stars auk Stripes are not lacking. But it is on a moonlight night that Venice Is moat beautiful Then the lights along the quay adjoining th Doge s Palace show throngs of laughing people th« ancient mansions that line the Grand Canal seem to be gazing calmly down at their broken reflections In the dark waters, and the moon rides high in the heavens above the white dome of the church of "Our Lady of Salvation." Suddenly the soft strains of i™tet n air- They ag W,tf ihi 5. *uy £0,0r, learn hack on the cushioned seat of Ms im.tf'T stands as well as the hush^J ««i native aii from a larga and interns. It floats the Grand Canal, tr.e crowd on ^case.ch.attfnn(f and laughing for an instant, the balconies of the hotels fill with eager listeners, and ^Cet i^°iT i w}lir'.1 havp darting about In the moonlight cluster quickh around the boat, where a of two or tin. string oTZ XT*?# V*** rises clear andi son a Tn ?'r meaninJ w .1 as e s,nfi:s Rn hearp" kalian love- his words are without the language of music is unlversall I singer siaeds no interpreter to the strugtr, he a- where. But ever afterward I 1 1 lil v- IT ll i v 7 as,.e n*t,ve. P**CW tmdef. All discordant sounds are hushed only a faint murmur from the people on th* fu •jng flashw through his mt^Try^as h«°i •long the quay hcard c,s«- thi" I Seaming lights J* iWs.srw.-f7, yi* --i :z 4y.-- iir ... _• *4 iiiiiiliM'ii ''iiup