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So spake the mistress : Johnnie Miller,
Reluctant, rose to do her will, And as he gathers up his burden,
The tears his bonnie blue eyes fill.
Out of the house, across the meadows,
The little seven years' laddie passed; And slower still he walked, and slower,
Until he reached the stream at last.
Down on a stone he sat, and opened
His pladdie where the puppies lay,
And stroked their glossy coats of gray.
And when, with quaint, black, wrinkled foreheads,
His hands they licked, and piteous cried, Seized with a sudden purpose, Johnnie
Rose up and left the river's side.
He hugged the puppies to his bosom,
Wrapped in his pladdie soft and warm, And fast across the meadows hurried,
Till far behind he left the farm.
On, on he went; the air grew chilly,
And lower sank the setting sun;
The toilsome march was nearly done.
More fields he traversed; then a glimmer
Broke through the darkness-welcome sight, For 'twas the cottage of his mother,
And that red glow her evening light.
Joyfully at the door he rattled ;
Surprised, his mother opened wide; “My bairn,” she cried. “ what brings thee hither ?”
And drew him to the warm fireside.
And spread his load before her view“I couldna' drown the little doggies,
So I hae brought them hame to you !"
It was a stormy winter evening,
The moon above shone bright and clear; A ship, impatient, rode the waters,
That swept against the slippery pier. Ready, my men !" the captain shouted.
A sailor from the pier-head threw The stiffened hawser-slipped—and staggering,
Fell down into the death gulf blue. No time for parley ; quick the captain
Threw off his jacket rough, and leapt
Captain and man together swept.
He grasped! wild waves swept o'er the twain, And for a space all hope was ended ;
Then the strong swimmer rose again.
Perils behind him and before ;
Until he touched the pier once more.
Then holding fast his prize, the swinmer
Was safely landed; cheer on cheer
Fearless of death and tempest drear!
By gentle souls great deeds are done;
JIMMY BROWN'S SISTER'S WEDDING.
IUE ought to have been married a long while ago.
That's what everybody says who knows her. She has been engaged to Mr. Travers for three years, and has had to refuse lots of offers to go to the circus with other young men.
I have wanted her to get married, so that I could go and live with her and Mr. Travers. When I think that if it hadn't been for a mistake I made she would have been married yesterday, I find it dreadfully hard to be resigned. But we ought always to be resigned to everything when we can't help it.
Before I go any further I must tell about my printing-press. It belonged to Tom McGinnis, but he got tired of it and sold it to me real cheap. He was going to exchange it for a bicycle, a St. Bernard dog, and twelve good books, but he finally let me have it for a dollar and a half.
It prints beautifully, and I have printed cards for ever so many people, and made three dollars and seventy cents already. I thought it would be nice to be able to print circus bills in case Tom and I should ever have another circus, so I sent to the city and bought some type more than an inch high, and some beautiful yel
Last week it was finally agreed that Sue and Mr. Travers should be married without waiting any longer. You should have seen what a state of mind she and mother were in. They did nothing but buy new clothes, and sew, and talk about the wedding all day long. Sue was determined to be married in church, and to have six bridemaids and six bridegrooms, and flowers and music and all sorts of things. The only thing that troubled her was making up her mind who to invite. Mother wanted her to invite Mr. and Mrs. McFadden and the seven McFadden girls, but Sue said they had insulted her, and she couldn't bear the idea of asking the McFadden tribe. Everybody agreed that old Mr. Wilkinson, who once came to a party at our house with one boot and one slipper, couldn't be invited; but it was decided that every one else that was on good terms with our family should have an invitation.
Sue counted up all the people she meant to invite, and there was nearly three hundred of them. You would hardly believe it, but she told me that I must carry around all the invitations and deliver them myself. Of course I couldn't do this without neglecting my studies and losing time, which is always precious, so I thought of a plan which would save Sue the trouble of directing three hundred invitations and save me from wasting time in delivering them.
I got to work with my printing-press, and printed a dozen splendid big bills about the wedding. When they were printed I cut a lot of small pictures of animals and ladies riding on horses out of some old circus bills and pasted them on the wedding bills. They were perfectly gorgeous, and you could see them four or five rods off. When they were all done I made some paste in a tin pail, and went out after dark and pasted them in good places all over the village.
The next afternoon father came into the house looking very stern, and carrying one of the wedding bills in his hand. He handed it to Sue and said: “ "Susan, what does this mean? These bills are posted all over the village, and there are crowds of people reading them.” Sue read the bill, and then she gave an awful shriek, and fainted away, and I hurried down to the post-office to see if the mail had come in. This is what
on the wedding bills, and I am sure it was spelled all right: Miss Susan Brown announces that she will marry
Mr. James Travers
All the Friends of the Family
With the exception of
Lots of Flowers.
Now what was there to find fault with in that? It was printed beautifully, and every word was spelled right, with the exception of the name of the church, and I didn't put that in because I wasn't quite sure how to spell it. The bill saved Sue all the trouble of sending out invitations, and it said everything that anybody could want to know about the wedding. Any other girl but Sue would have been pleased, and would have thanked me for all my trouble, but she was as angry as