Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 June 1892 — FOR OUR LITTLE FOLKS. [ARTICLE]

FOR OUR LITTLE FOLKS.

A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO THEM. Ifhat Children Bara Dona, What They Are Doing:, and What They Should Do to Paaa Their Childhood Day*. Fortune* In the Moon. Children, especially of the South, have many ways of telling fortunes by the moon; the most popular one is this: When the new moon i 6 seen for the first time three steps are taken backward and these words repeated: New moon, true moon, true and bright. If I have a true love, let me dream of him to-night; If I'm to marry near, let me hear a bird cry; If I'm to marry far, let me hear a cow low. And If I’m never to wed, let me hear a hammer knock. Then the flight of the turkey buzzard is always noted, especially if flying alone, and the bird is addressed thus: Hall, hall, lone turkey buzzard! Fly to the east, fly to the west. Fly to she one that I love best; Let me know by the flap of the wing Whether be (or she) loves me or not The bird’s direction of flight is noted, also the motion of the wings. If they flap it is considered a true sign that the lover or sweetheart is true. Ralny-Day Sunshine. “Seems to me this isn’t a very nice world. ” “Why, Kitty?” said mamma. "It’s very nice for mammas and big people who can do as they please, but when children have to sit in the bouse and just look at the rain, it isn’t very nice.” “It seems to me,” said mamma, “if a little girl I know would just look around this big nursery and see all the things provided for her amusement, she might be happier. ” “I’m tired of every one of them. All my dolls are naughty, and all my toys are horrid.” “Please, Mrs. Brown,” said nurse, coming into the room, “Mrs. Dixon has sent her two children home with the clothes, and they are so wet I want to know if I may keep them and get them dry before they go home.” “Let them come up here. Do, please, mamma!” exclaimed Kitty, all the clouds gone from her face. “Very well, nurse; find some dry clothing, and then send them to me. ” “I’ll show them all my things,” said Kitty, “and they shall hold my very best doll. ” Soon two shy little girls were led by nurse to where Mrs. Brown was sitting. “This is Annie,_ and this is Jennie, ma’am,” said she, presenting them in turn. “I have seen you before,” said Mrs. Brown, taking little Jennie by the hand. “I saw you when your mother was ill. Now go and have a nice time.” “Come,” said Kittie; “I want you to see all of my dolls. ” Never had they seen so many except in the store windows, and then they could not touch them. “Are these all your very own?” asked Annie. “Yes; haven’t you so many?” “We’ve only one between us, and she has only one arm,” replied Jennie. “O my,” said Kitty. “You shall each have one of mine.” “Really!" whispered Annie. “May I, mamma?” said Kittie, Tuning up to her mother. “May you what, dear?” “Give Annie and Jennie each a doll. They have only one. ” “Will you let them choose?” said mamma. “Only—” said Kitty, and then she stopped- “Yes, I will,” she went on, "even if they want Louise.” Annie chose one dressed in blue, and Jennie one in red. Both had real hair. Such happy little faces! “It seems to me,” said mamma, “that the sun is -shining indoors, now. ” “They didn’t take Louise,” whispered Kitty; “but I truly would have let them, have her.” As Kitty showed the little girls her doll-house and all her treasures their shyness wore away, and soon happy laughter came from the corner of the room where Kitty had been sitting so forlorn. Then nurse came, and said it was time for the children to go. “Will you come the next rainy day?” said Kittie. “May we?” said Annie looking at Mrs. Brows. “Indeed you may,” she said; “for you have scattered the clouds to-day. ” “Why, there comes the sun,” laughed Kitty, as she came back from seeing her little guests off. “It isn’t a bad world any more. I guess I was the bad one.” Harper’s Young People.

A Hero at Ten Yearn* A story of juvenile presence of mind and courage reaches me from Manchester. Two little children, Arthur and Daisy Lemaire, living at Charlton-on-Medlock, and aged respectively 10 and 8 years, were playing together in their nursery, when the little girl’s frock caught Are. Arthur immediately caught hold of her and wrapped a counterpane round her, trying to extinguish the flames with his hands: but the little girl, mad with fear, tore herself away from him and ran downstairs, setting fire to the curtains as she brushed past them. Arthur rushed after her, dragged her into the bedroom below, and throwing her down on the hearthrug rolled her round in it, and then sat upon her to prevent her escaping from him a second time, says London Baby. The mother ran up, hearing the noise, but, by the time she appeared upon the scene, the little boy had quite extinguished the flames; and, after looking to see that all was safe, he said to his mother, “You look after Daisy while I go and put out the fire in the nursery.” This he succeeded in doing, and only after all danger was ever did he show his mother how his poor little hands were burned with the flames and torn by the struggle with the hearthrug. A doctor was sent for in haste to attend the two children, and, on arrival, exclaimed, “So I hear you have been saving your little sister’s life, Arthur!” “Oh, it was nothing,” replied the boy. Then, laughing bravely in

spite of his pain, he added, “I can’t shake hands with you, Doctor, but I can shake a toe with you!” Who the Bad Bojri Were. Bobby and Harry were brothers, 8 and 9 years of age. Coming late from school one day the mother said: “Why are you late, boys?” Bobby, the younger, was usually the spokesman on such occasions, and he answered: “We stopped.” “What did you stop for?" said mamma. “To see two boys flghtin’.” “Indeed. And who were the boys?” “Harry was one." “Ah, indeed! And who was the other?” “The other was me,” answered the unabashed Bobby.—Yankee Blade. Got the Words Crooked. . “Trot,” said mamma, who was digging among her flower-beds, “run over and ask auntie if she would like some narcissus bulbs.” “I’m afraid I can’t remember the name,” said Trot, but off she went, saying it over and over to herself. “Auntie,” she said, when she got there, “mamma wants to know if you would like some molasses buds. ” —Youth’s Companion. The White Flag Was Mistaken. Dottle, aped four, has learned to look in the paper each morning for the weather signals, and likes to report, “White flag; now I can go out to play.” One day last week she found the desired signal, but was much puzzled to see the rain dashing against the window, driven by a furious gale. She stood looking first at the paper and then at the storm, then exclaimed: “White f’ag, white Pag, the wever is mistakened!”