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THE ARGUS, SATURDAY, MAY 15, 1909.
8 . . " g . "'' " '- T'';'" CELEBRATING By A. L. OH, mother, mayn't I go to school now? I feci just as well," said seven-yea r-ohl Robby, as he raised his curly yellow head from the couch and looked at his mother with eager eyes. Mother's lips were smiling as she went about her work, but her eyes were saying "no" very plainly. to Robby. "But, mother, I don't have to have the measles just because the children next door have them, and to-day is Arbor Day'.' When Tommy Morris said, ' I christen thee George Washington,' I was going to wave the flag and say: 'Grow thou, and flourish, O Tree and now 1 can't do it." " It cannot be helped, my boy ; you must not go to ' school until I am sure that you are quite, quite well, but, if you wish, you may walk up the road as far as the shade grows, and try to find a sunny face to bring back with you." The tears came into Robby "s eyes, and I am afraid that he slammed the gate in a rebellious mood as he went out of the yard onto the pleasant country road, shaded by great waving trees. "Just 's if I'd have th measles," he grumbled. "I guess mothers don't knov how boys feel, and anyway 1" I'd be sure to wave the flag and see the tree planted be fore I get 'em." The day was very warm, and when Robby came to the last tree, he sat down under it, and looked along the road that stretched away in the distance, white with dust and unshaded from thp sun. "Men have most all the trouble, anyway," sighed Robby. " Here I am sitting under a tree when I want to be planting one; and last night I heard father say that he might lose his position now that the new manager had come, and then he would have to be idle for a while." Robby's face '-vis not at all sunny as he sat with his elbows on his ' cos, but suddenly .1 bright idea came into his mind j he noticed the multitude of acorns strewn about the ground. "I'll do it," he said aloud, and he stuffed acorns into his pockets, his blouse, and even his sleeves, until he looked like a very fat Robby indeed. He found a clam shell just as he needed it, and trot ting out into the hot siii hine. he dug a hole in the soft ground of the roadside, planted an acorn, carefully cov ered it, stamped the earth down, and set up a little stick to mark the place. On he went a few steps and repeated the action, measuring the distance between his pros pective trees by lengths of a straight stick. Acorn after acorn he planted, until one side of a long stretch of road was shaded in his fancy by green waving branches, and then he trudged back to the beginning, loaded himself again with acorns and began work on the other side of the road. How hot the "in was. and how his short legs ached, and how tired and thirsty he felt ! "Wish I had a drink," thought Robby, anil then he remembered that people who plant things always water them if they expect them to grow. Almost at the end of his two rows of acorns a little white cottage was set in a glowing garden, and Robby decided that he would ask for help to carry out his plan. 1 !e went through the white gate and along a path bordered by curious-looking boxes, which Robby knew were beehives, because he saw the bees flying in at the tiny doorways. An old, old lady came out on the little porch. She wore a queer frilled bonnet, and from it shone her round, red apple-cheeks and her kind, bright blue eyes. She gave Robby a drink from a cup which was j.aintcd with green leaves and pink roses, but when he asked . her if he might have water from her pump to water his acorns, she hesitated and finally said : "I like you be cause you want to make a green-shaded road before my house, and then I can walk into town without feeling too warm, but my bees don't like boys, and I am afraid that you might make them nervous." Robby's eyes tilled witll two great tears, and the Bee Woman, looking down into them, thought that they looked like two blue lakes. "Well," she said, "if my bees like you, you may take the water," and she led him down the path where the busy bees were flying thick and fast. They lit on her 4mtmw&mwM n vww tip m f Books 1? w.ly more people wcaawTite-fCwer books- Jtlow. Vciiei&gjjjsEa ARBOR DAY SYKES hands and her frilled bonnet, and seemed to know that she was their good mistress. Some settled upon Robby's hands and face, and he stood perfectly still, trying to think that he liked bees very much, and was not at all afraid. At lcth the Bee-Woman said, " You are a good boy, and rny bees do like you, so you may take this big tin pail and the, cup and carry all the water you need." . .r It was hard work carrying water in the large tin pail, but Robby made many journeys, and poured cupful after cupful upon his buried acorns. When it was all finished, and he had thanked the Bee-Woman, and had given her her cup and jpail,. he remembered that he had been away . from home a long, long time, and that he was, oh, so hyngry! His fcftsecmed very heavy and hard to lift, and when he tried to run out of the road as a flying team cnme'tichind him, he stumbled over a stone, and fell on his face, and was so tired that he lay quite still. .In a moment the horses were checked, and the driver of them leaped from the carriage and took Robby up in his arms. "Hurt, my man, of just scared?" he asked, smiling down at Robby. "Jubt tired, I think," answered Robby. " You were going my way. Won't you have a lift?" " Mother says that I must never go with strangers, but I think that you are the new, superintendent, and, anyway, I b'lieve you're good," said Robby, smiling into the stern, face. . . . "That's a joke on me," said the man, quickly turning away his face as he lifted Robby up on the high seat and jumped up beside him. "What might your name be?." lie asked'. " Robby Trevitt." " Trevitt ; that's my head man's name, isn't it? " " Yes, he's my father," answered Robby, proudly. "Afraid he's going to lose his head," said the man, but so softly that the boy did not understand the words. Robby thought that he would be kind and polite, and tell the new friend about his afternoon's work, so he pointed out the two long rows of wet spots decorating the road side. " Do it all vourself ? " asked the man. " Yes," said Robby. "How long have you worked?" " Kvcr since dinner," answered Robby. "Tired?" " Ye es," hesitated Robby ; but he continued, brightly, " I wasn't when I was working." "What on earth did you want to do it for?" " Oh, I wanted to celebrate Arbor Day, and I couldn't go to school, so I celebrated alone ; and anyway I think that this read will look much better with rows of trees, don't you ? " "Yes," answered the man; and. he said not another word until he drew up his horses before Robby's own home and lifted him down beside his mother, who was waiting anxiously at the gate. "This is Mrs. Trevitt, i believe," he said; and then he asked: " Has this boy of yours brought his father up to be like himself? " " 1 think so," said Robby's mother, laughing. "If that is the case, please tell your husband not to look any farther for a new berth ; we can't spare him," said the new superintendent ; and then he drove away. Robby's mother looked at her small son, with clothes and shoes dusty and water-stained, and at his soiled face and hands burned scarlet by the sun, and said, "Oh, Robby, Robby ! " "Oh, mother, mother! I didn't walk a bit farther than the shade ; I only worked farther. I planted trees and trees. Can't you forgive me?" "I'll try to, this time, Robby," she said, "considering that you haven't the measles yet, and that your teacher was here to say that so many children were absent to day she had decided to postpone the Arbor Day exer cises until next week, and, best of all, that we have such 'good, good news to tell father when he comes home." " Goody ! goody ! " shouted Robby, quite forgetting that he was tired,, and jumping round and round his . mother, he cried: "Now 1 can say, 4 Grow thou, and flourish, O Tree.' " If all of the authors world charge into cooks JwouIdsu.it me perfectly. 'BED TIME Wfnfi , n: t: 3 iv. r.:-, :: :.': ..-, 11HBI! By TGelett The' night is different fronr fhe day; It s darker in the nights How can you ever hope to play. When it s no longer light ? ffiien bed time To stop, for while you re yawning; You should what you When it s morning! .435. i? THE LITTLE By ROSS B. SOME time ago, a consignment of homing or carrier pigeons left San Francisco for Auckland, New Zealand, to be used in carrying communications between Auckland and Great Barrier Island; and among the little feathered messengers was a bird named Pete, which belonged to me. Pete was always known as a wise fellow, his intelligence at times causing people to marvel. But Pete was a tramp; that is, he could not be depended tipon if sent on a long trip, often loitering on the way to hunt food or to play, perhaps staying out hours when he should have been absent only minutes. So Tctcr was shipped away to be used as a loft-bird one which stays at the home loft to attract returning messengers. Well, he went this time because he couldn't help it; but his cunning played a fine trick on his new owners. This bird was taken two thousand miles be laud to San Francisco; two thousand and eighty-nine miles by water to f lawaii ; thence, two thousand two hundred and forty miles by water to the Samoan Is lands; thence, sixteen hundred miles by water to Auck land in all nearly ciht thousand miles; and now Pete is at home again ! , The homc-comirig"of this bird ij little short "of mar velous, and this is how he accomplished it. Watching carefully for an opportunity to escape, after landing at Auckland, Fete took to his wings, ami finding in the harbor the vessel which had carried him so far from home, lie radiated from its masts in every direction, searching for a familiar scene or objccttwhir!i, of course, he could not find, so many thousand miles away froili his American dove-cote. Ildwcvcr, he stayed rear, the ship, perhaps thinking it would return to America r but when the vessel finally steamed out headed fur- Aus tralia instead of the United States, Pete descried. hs perch and .truck out slraisht towr.nl his home land.r So it happened that the Lucy Belie, an old- fashioned sailing vessel ladcir with lumber from ti c Samoan ls'e, when three days from Christmas Island, was boarded by an almost exhausted stranj-er; and the stnnpcr s no body in the world but Mr. Pete. As the old sailor is a very superstitious being. Pete was welcomed amid cries of wonder at encountering :i homing-pigeon H the mid dle of the Pacific Ocean, and was allowed to ride "Burgess IJ comes ii fimre for be dreaming '11 do o-morrow WANDERER FRANKLIN wherever he chose on shipboard. The bird was kindly treated and fed, and one day, during a storm which frightened him and drove the little tramp to shelter on deck, it was discovered that he carried a small tag on one leg, bearing a number and his name. He was placed in a box with slats for bars, and in this condition came into San Francisco Bay with tho Lucy Belle, just as happy at sight of land as any member of the crew, who considered him a mascot. The story of the Lucy Belle's mascot soon spread among the shipfolk along the wharves, and in a few hours Pete was identified as having been shipped some weeks before for Auckland. Then it was that the people understood that the crafty fcliow was homeward-bound. All this is wonderful enough ; but the fact that Pete reached home unaided over two thousand miles of land route is, perhaps, only less wonderful. But he did. It was argued on the Lucy Belle that a bird possessing a brain wise enough to figure out an ocean voyage could reach his home on land; and after some debate, the sail ors securely fastened a little story to Pete's leg, reciting his adventures so far as known to them, and turned liini . loose. How the dear little wanderer found his way home he alone can tell. It took Pete nine days to travel the two thousand miles, in covering which, of course; he must have stopped often; for, if he could have gone straight home, the distance could have been made in thirty or forty hours. We who had sent him off to Auckland had not the slightest idea that he was this side of the equator, or of the world, when, one morning, not long ago, Mr. Tcte quietly hopped down from the home loft, and, without any fuss whatever, joined his mates at a break fast of corn, wheat and crumbs! Now, what do you think of him? . He will never be sent way again: for there is not sufficient money at the disposal of any one man to se cure him. If you know of any girls or boys who are discon tented at home, show them this story of Pete, who so loved his humble abode of rough board and hard straw that he outwitted cunning men and defied the risks and lip'nlxhip' of an eight-thonsand-mile journey over sea and land, hi the effort to return to bis home. (A The Hdvcnturcrs By Hannah G. Fernald. " I am going for a voyage," quoth the Sailor-man to me ! " Shall I bring you any treasures from the lands beyond the sea? . - . My gallant ship is riding now at anchor in the bay!" So I kissed my daring Sailor-man and watched him Eail away " I am riding forth to battle." quoth the Warrior to me ; " My charger's prancing at the gate, as you may plainly see. I am riding forth to glory, but I'll come again some day!" So I kissed my gallant Warrior and watched him ride away. s My sailor's far upon the sea, my warrior's in the fight. Yet both will nestle in my arms and hold mc close to night. For the soldier and the sailor-man (be kind to them, O Fate!) Are just my merry little lads out swinging on the gatel Cause and Gffcct By Margaret Mills." A reckless young Zephyr went tearing along, Not heeding what he was about, " He bumped into Black Cloud with terrible force -And spilled a big thunder shower out. Two little maids, walking out hand in hand When the rain fell, began to cry; Suid one: "Some bad Fairy, I know, just for spite' Has knocked the plug out of the Sky." H picture By Mary Stcart Belu One bright Autumn morning Came two tiny lovers, A sweet little maid And her little twin brother. Two -little round heads, One brown and one yellow, Had this dear little maid And her little twin fellow. Two pairs of bright eyes, - So big and so blue,. - To wonder and watch , The whole day through. Two little noses, How came it, I wonder? That tip should turn one While the other turns under. Four red ruby lips, Make two mouths, I suppose,. 'Tho' they look like the-buds Of a pretty moss-rose. " Four tiny wee shells. With their linings of pink, May make two pairs of cars, If about it you think. With two little bodies. All dimpled and sweet, Now really I think That my picture's complete. There arc four little feet, To dance and to run, And four tiny hands To. clasp at the fun. Yet in all this big world, There are no truer lovers, Than a swect little maid Aid her little twin brother. Thtr onea cn old yoory oncJcr VKeat snula tcam Uandsr and bfcnrftr. T.ll . Ii fcoK iV, tty WicJ, ' ' Trt vhe!a top his fwcsd , A crowraL h cL'sl . lal'dly rrender . felfiffL 2L r Vt; : 3g t Hmmal JYIumc By Oliver Hekford. Said the Lion: "On music 1 dote. But sometliiajr is wrong" with my th.-oat When I practise" scale, - , The listeners quail, And flee at the very first note I "