Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 June 1892 — CHILDREN'S COLUMN. [ARTICLE]

CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

A DEPARTMENT FOR LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS. Something that Will Interest the Juvenile Members or Every Household Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings of Cute Children. Ax-Covered Grindstone. Though bright to my heart are some scenes In my lad time, Which fond recollection presents to my view, Jne thing I remember that brought me no glad time, But lent to my childhood an indigo hue. dow awful when sneaking away from my mother. As down to the creek with my tackle I fled, To hear father's voice, “One good turn needs another; Come,‘turn at the grindstone that hangs by the shed." The old crooked grindstone, The wobbling old grindstone. The old squeaking grindstone that hung by the shed. Mi! many's the hour I've turned it and grunted, For it was the mill stone that burdened me down; lYhile nuts were to gather and squirrels to * be hunted There was always an ax or scythe to be ground. it never was oiled and was hard in tho turning. “Only grease of the elbows it needs.” father said; ind the handle would often slip off without warning And instantly tumble me heels over head. The old dented griudstoue, That wornaway grindstone, ft gathered no moss as it hung by the shed. ‘This stone," father said, “like earth, turns on its axis, But comparison fails on the matter of force. ” t said,“Though the speed of the earth ne'er relaxes, I am sure it would scop 'neath those axes of ,yours.” Che nicks they were cUop in the ax or the hatchet. And father bore on till sweat dropped from his head. If I’d pause to put water on, then I would catch it; “Watch the crank and keep on with tho motion,” he said. Oh. that old shaky grindstone, That slow-grinding grindstone, That hard-running grindstope that hung by the shed! Yes, dear to my heart are some scenes of my childhood— Tho orchard, tlife cidor, tho neighbors’ peach trees, Tho school hours I pleasantly passed in the wildwood. And. the honey I stole unbeknownst to » the bees. But that circular horror, whose motion was rotary. To-day makes my anger all fly to my head. And I’m willing to go and make oath to tin; notary. That I was ground dull by that stone by the shed— That lopsided grindstone. That old hated grindstone. That confoundOd grindstone that hung by the shed. —A. W. Bellaw.

A Pretty Incident. A newsboy took the Sixth avenue elevated railroad cars at Park place, New York, and sliding into one of the cross seats fell asleep. At Grand street two young women got on and took seats opposite to the lad. His feet were bare, and his hat had fallen off. Presently the young girl leaned over and placed her muff under the little fellow’s dirty cheek. An old gentleman in the next seat smiled at the act, and, without saying anything, held out a quarter, with a nod toward the hoy. The girl hesitated a moment, and then reached for it. The next man just as silently offered a dime, a woman across the aisle held out some pennies, and, before she knew it, the girl with flaming cheeks had taken money from every passenger in that end of the car. She quietly slid the amount into the sleeping lad's pocket, removed her muff gently from under his without rousing him, and got off at Twenty-third street, including all the passengers in a pretty little inclination of the head that seemed full of thanks and a common secret. —The Parish News.

Fable of the Pansy. A pretty fable of the pansy is current among children. The flower has five petals and five sepals. In most pansies, especially of the earlier and less highly developed varieties, two of the petals are plain in color and three are gay. The two plain petals have a single petal, two of the gay petals have a sepal each, the third, which is the largest of all, has two sepals. The fable is that the pansy represents a family, consisting of husband, wife, and four daughters, two of the latter being stepchildren of the wife. The plain petals are the stepchildren, with only one chair; the two small gay petals are the daughters with a chair each, and the large gay petal is the wife, with two chairs. To And the father one must strip away the petals until the stamens and pistils are hare. They have a fanciful resemblance to an old man with a flannel wrap about his neck, his shoulders upraised, and his feet in a bathtub. The story is probably of French origin, because the French call the pansy the stepmother. The Worst “Bad Company.” The worst “had company” that a bad hoy or girl can he in is the company of a bad hook. Evil associates are harmful enough, but they do not' injure a young person as evil books do. There is a subtle, and at the same time imperative quality, in the influence of a printed page, which everybody feels. You read a statement, and unconsciously you believe it, and yield up your mind to it simply because it confronts you in the dignity of type. But let a person whom you know make the same statement orally, and you will think twice before you accept it. This is where the danger of a bad hook comes in, it gets a special hearing and exercises a peculiar influence which a bad person can not. Besides, it can say the same evil thing over and over again, in.the same fascinating words, as often as your curiosity prompts you to seek it. Therefore, if manly and honest—and we trust that all hoys and gMs are—the wise thing for them is to shun books that have a had name. And if you do not know whether a book is good or bad. ask the advice of your parents and teachers as to what you should read. Do not be enticed by a low curiosity to see what a bad book is like. Shun it as you would pitch or poison, or quicksand, or any other vile or dangerous thing. The world is full of good and charming hooks. Keep company with them.. They will make you nobler and better all your life. —Chicago Juvenile.