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Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, May 15, 1909, Image 8

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn92053934/1909-05-15/ed-1/seq-8/

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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 "

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