Newspaper Page Text
The Herald Junior FLORENCK BOSAUD LAWRENCE, Editor The Herald Junior la published by Th« Her. aid company for the children of the south tint. It la devoted to their Interests soil trill publish principally their own ■mtlun. All children of public acnool see are welcome a* contributor*. The editor wishes to enoour t.r.« correspondence and suggestions from the Wieners. The editor will b« In tier otrtra for v:ittors Monday afternoon from 3 until 6 o'clock anil Saturday from 10:S0 until 12:30 o'clock. Special appointments may be made by telephone All prize winners living in Tjos AnctlM must call for their prizes within two wi<ki after the award of same. T.'lnnera ot prliet for three honorable mentions must pmsent copies of the stories, <*rs or limericks at published «nd claim their prizes. j Prize winners living out of town will recelre ' •heir prizes by mall without request, except for honorable mention, in which case copies rr the stories, letters or limericks must be tubmltted and the rrlza claimed. AN IMPORTANT CHANGE My own dear boys and girls: Today is the last day we will be "all hy ourselves." Hereafter we will have b page just like the ordinary newspa per—full grown up ftyle! Tou will still have a chance to pee your own writ- Ing in the paper—but only the very best letters will be published—so you will nil have to work ever so hard, but then you don't mind that I know. A prize of >1 will be given for the best paper or letter —just as we have always hail in the writers' contest—and the much coveted emblem pins will be. giv fn as the second prize. They will also be given as second prize to ttte artists. The first prize in that contest will be $1. also. I wish each of you would take nn In-, terest in Maude Edwards' suggestion— that of a letter box for the Junior. I am sure you would find it interesting. llnvv many things did you have to be thankful for. Thanksgiving day? Tour Aunt Laurie had so many beautiful things to make her happy—and what do you think—she !a writing this letter on Thanksgiving day—just so that all the nice things wil! be sent to you in this letter! I haven't had my Thanksgiving din ner yet—but I can smell the turkey which I know Is sizzling In the oven. Everybody lias turkey or chicken on Thanksgiving day, even if they do eat in a restaurant—like one of my nieces said. I hope you will nil br sure to write the best kind of letters for the begin ning of our "grown up" Junior next week! "Buying Christmas Presents." You will all know of the exciting days when Christmas is elope at hand and tlio fun you have getting presents for grandma and grandpa, mother and father and all the cousins and aunties and brothers and sistors. "When you stop to count them all up aren't there lots of people, you love so much, you just have to give thorn the "very nicest present?" Of course it's only children whose fathers have lots and lots of money, who don't have to think a long time and scrimp and plan to get the very lust present with only a little bit of money. 1 almost know that some of my nieces who can sew beautifully have solved that problem, for I have seen Borne of the most exquisite bits of fancy work for Christmas presents, nn<l they were made by little girls, too. I heard of something awfully nice tin' other day— a class of boys in one of the city schools has made a com fort, ami the stitches are so fine and pretty that they would rival those of the finest seamstress. This comfort has been given to one of the charitable Institutions of the city to keep some little boy or girl warm on Christinas evening. Don't you think that was fine—for boys to do? Well, boys and girls, I have the sweetest little baby cousin! She Is only a little more than a year old, and I can hear her calling for me. She has the prettiest little voice—and here comes my little sister— and every one is wondering where Aunt Laurie is. They want me to come to Thanksgiv ing dinner. Well good bye, dearies, until next week. Lovingly, AUNT LAURIE. * i > ■ AT THE BEACH Lawßon—How gloomy tho foghorn sounds! doesn't it depress you? Dawson—Not a bit. If you had been hearing your office buy whistle "Tho Old Gray Bonnet" eight hours a day, an I have, almost any noise would be a welcome change.—Sonierville Journal. LOS ANGELES SUNDAY HERALD—JUNIOR SECTIOK Little Trixsy Trueman thought the story of "The Three Bears" the finest one in the world. She could repeat it word for word and never tired of telK ing it to all of her friends. The first Christmas after she read the story her father presented her with a great black Teddy bear and someone else with a (mailer white one, but in some way or another she did nut peem entirely satisfied. "What is it, darling?'' asked her mamma. "Why, mamma, no one has given me a little wee bear," was thn reply, with a funny pucker of her eyebrows. "How many bears do you want?" asked her mamma. "Aren't two enough?" "Not to play 'The Three Bears,' sighed Trixsy. "There was the great, biff, huge bear, you know, the middle sized bear and the little, wee bear, and he was the most 'portant of them all, 'cause little Silver-Hair ate up all his porridge, broke the bottom out of his little chair and mussed his little bed all up." Her mother couM r.ot deny it, and, wishing- to satisfy her little dulighter HISS yROfeEnAfTV *?, MISS ROSEMARY RErmFteRHNcE / * _ Katherine was perched high up in one of the old apple trees. The gnarled boughs made an ideal seat in which to while away the long afternoons, read ing fairy tales or taking a birdseye view of hill and dale as she munched the rosy-cheeked fruit so easy to reach. And so when her mother called her several times the little girl was not so quick to obey as well behaved little girl 3 should be. However, Katherine grew ashamed of her tardiness at last and ran in the house. "Katherine," said her mother, "your auntie and I have been invited out to tea, and I will send you over to grand ma's to stay until we call for you. Your cousins and you will have a good time playing together and bo you will not be lonely." "Oh, mother, dear," exclaimed the little maid, coaxingly, "won't you let me go to visit the little old lady whom we onco called on instead? I would just love to, and will be so good and not give any trouble!" Now Katherine's mother was very much surprised at such a request com ing from a little girl who loved play mates as she did, but she smilingly consented, saying. "Well, dear, I'm sure Miss Rosemary will be very glad to see you, as she gets lonely, living all by herself, and to I will dress you nicely and leave you at her gate." Katherine gave one look after the pony carriage and then Walked slowly up the neat path bordered with shells which led to the door of the little white house. Now that she was really Trixy and the Three Bears she purchased her c wee bit of gray boar, that looked so cute that it set off Trixsy into convulsions of laughter nearly every time she looked at It. The next morning she requested her mamma to make her throe bowls of porridge, a grreat, big bowlful, a mici dle-eizod bowlful find a little bit of bowlful. This her mother did, and then Trixsy began her game, after making three beds by placing three sofa cushions on three boxes and set ting three chairs up against the wall, one great, big onu for the great, big bear, one of her own, a little rattan rocker, for the middle-sized boar and a doll's chair for the wee, little bear; then she set the bears each In his chair and they looked so comical that Trixsy had to roll over the carpet a while with laughter before being able to resume the game. The next tiling she did was to pile nil the bears up in her dolly coach and turn them outdoors. Then she threw her best doll, "Silver-Hair," Into a window and soon followed her. Taking "Silver-Hair" in her arms she went to the three bowls of por ridge and gave her a taste of all of them. Then Trixsy's mamma heard someone say: "This is too hot for me. This is too cold for me. This is about right," which sounded very much like Trixsy's own voice, though a little squeaky. At the wee, little bowl of porridge Tiixsy paused, and, true to the story, she herself ate the porridge in the little, wee bowl all ud. Then she set "Silver-Hair" in each one of the chairs, declaring: none suit ed until she came tc the little chair, here she began to be afraid Miss Rose mary might not bo glad to see so small a visitor. But at last she took cour age and pulled at the bright brass knocker. She forgot all such fears when she saw the radiant face with which the old lady greeted her. "Please, Miss Rosemary, I'va come to visit you," said the little girl, shyly. • "Now, I do declare, this Is sweet of you, dear 1 Walk right in!" cried the old lady with a happy smile. And Katherine was once more In the little parlor, which was filled with the brightness and fragrance of roses. She was almost dazzled by them all, as they ran over the floor In the carpet, the walls on the paper, the furniture on their coverings, and real ones peeped In the vine-covered windows and filled the bowls on the tables. Even Miss Kosemary has rose-colored ribbons on her apron and in her dainty lace cap. "This Is very, very- kind of you, my dear," she repeated, as she made her little visitor sit on the stool at her feet. Now, when Katherine saw how much pleasure her visit gave her old friend she felt sorry she had not come before, and began to chatter of her playmates and playthings and games, so aa to make herself agreeable. All the -while Miss Rosemary smiled, and when at last Katherine stopped, not because she was tired, but fearing that she may have been too forward and talked too much, her gentle hostess said, "Don't stop, dear; you entertain me very much." "But It is your turn now," pleaded Katherine; "tell me a story. You which she declared was Just about right, and forced "Silver-Hair" down in it so hard that the bottom camo out. of it. Then the bods were tried, none suit ing until "Silver-Hair" was placed in the little bed, and was left to go to sleep while Trixsy went after the three bonrß. She found them just Where she left them, and goon Trixsy's mamma heard in a coarse, gruff voice: "Who's been eating my porridge?" and in Trixsy's common, ordinary voice, "Who's been eating my porridge?" and again in Trixsy's thin, squeaky voice, 'Somebody's been eating my porridge, and they have eaten it all up." Then followed in Trixsy's gruff voice: "Somebody's been sitting in my chair," and in her nUldur ono, "Some one's been sitting In my chair," and then In her wee., little voice, "Some body's been sitting in my chair and baa let the bottom all out of It." Then followed the same formula about the throe beds until the doll, "Silver-Hair" was found lying in it, when Trixsy pounced forth with so muth excitement Mint in an effort to throw the doll out of an open window, aafo away from the three bears, she struck her against the window Bill and both legs were broken. This brought the game or play to an abrupt ter mination. Poor Trixsy burst In tears and went to her mother for comfort. "Silver-Hair" is r.ow In the "Dolls' Hospital," and when she comes out she will have a pair of new legs, but since Trixsy doesn't know everything it will make no difference.—Philadel phia Record. must remember lots about when you were a little girl." "Ah, my dear, that was such a long time ago! This old house has stored up many memories, but I am afraid they would not Interest a little girl like you." "But tell me about the roses," per sisted Kathcrine. "How did you come to be so fond of them and to have so many around you?" "I earned the right to have them," answered her friend with a glad smile. "I must. Indeed, go far back if I am to tell you the story of my roses, fur it begins with my christening. Do you know the meaning of my name, my dear?" "No," answered Kathrrlno In sur prise; "does it mean something?" " 'Rosemary' is the name of an old fashioned herb which means 'remem brance.' My dear mother called me this because she knew and loved two old ladies whose names were Rose and Mary, and .she wanted me to grow up to love and care for old people always. So she combined the two names, and It v^&b always my especial pride and delight to visit these dear old people, and to bring as much brightness into their lives as I could. They had the linest rose garden in all the country side, and I grew to love the flowers as much as they did. They used to say I was as bright and sweet as a rose myself, but that was long ago, my dear, and they are dead as their roses died, and I am withered and old, and grow very lonely myself some limes, with only their rose garden to comfort me, which they left to me for always remembering them." "Oh, dear Miss Rosemary, this Is a very beautiful story, but the ending Is so sad! Do you think I could make It brighter by coming to see you very often. Indeed, and spending hours among your lovely flowers?" "Indeed, my dear, you have cheered mo up already. You- will never regret having been pood to old people and remembering them!" And Katherlne never did! LEARNED TO LIVE t When I can trust for needs both small and ireat. And have no anxious thought for day or year; When I can love all men. and cast out bat* As utterly as I have cast out fear: When I am through with all that [earth] can giva Of anything—the sweet and bitter done—• When all the thread Is spun. Then I have learned to live. — The Churchman. LIE.A-BED LAND The lazy Land of Lle-aßcd Has two fat pillows at the bead, A downy comfort spread all neat And restful from the head to feet; A drowsy, dreamy place to stay And yawn. 'I'll not ret up today." And many children like to co To wonder-wander her*, you know.