Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1893 — FOR LITTLE FOLKS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

FOR LITTLE FOLKS.

A COLUMN OF PARTICULAR INTEREST TO THEM. Something that Will Interest the Juvenile Members of Every Household—Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings of Many Cute and Cunning Children. Fireflies. The sun was gone and the night grew dark, And Allie and Belle were late: But they knew the way by many a mark. The tall black rocks, and the tree-trunks stark, * « And the rustic bower by the gate. The meadows were gay with a thousand lights Of golden emerald-green; Hither and thither their wavering flights Lamped the hollows and starred the l heights, Their dusky forms unseen.

The joy and the wonder, who can tell. Of the little loiterers there? “A million fairies. I guess,” said Belle, “Are having a torch-dance down In the dell, A star-dance up in the air! “Oh, wasn’t it good to meet the dark With all these beautiful things? Could we only have seen their shapes—but hark! There’s mamma’s call; there’s Cndjo’s bark!" “We are here!” sweet Allie sings. “Oh, mother! the stars were all in the grass, For the sky was down so low! Through the 'Wicker-meadow* we saw them pass, And they hung their lamps on the sassafras; That’s why we were so slow!” —Our Little Ones. A CWward. “Don’t be a coward, Herb!” “Mamma’s man!” “Mother’s pet!” were some of the remarks with which Herbert Langdon’s mates assailed him. The boy’s frank face flushed scarlet, as he stood for a moment irresolute, looking from one to the other. “Come on, Herb,” this from his bosom friend, Cal Clark. “No, I am not soming, and you fellows may call me coward or anything else you may think of. I should be a coward though, If I’d let a gang like you Scare me into dbing something which is mean,” “Oh, goody, goody! Mamma’s pet!" screamed an insulting youngster from the outside of the crowd. “.Herb Webster’s a shotited another just as a crowd of girls were passing. Herb’s face turned redder still as he noticed his sister and Mollie Mentor—the girl he liked best—among them. “Hush!” warned one of the older boys, “or all the fat will be in the fire.” That evening at tea Kate Webster suddenly asked: “Oh, Herb, what made the boys call you a coward at recess to-day?” “Nuthen much,” in school-boy vernacular. Mr. Webster turned a searching glance on the boy. “What was it, Herbert?” he asked. “Not much, fattier, only I wouldn’t do as they wanted me to. ’ “What did they want you to do?” put in Kate. “Nuthen much,” came tho same evasive answer again. “Herbert, I don’t quite like this, speak out” Mr. Webster’s voice was a trifle stern: “Why, not much of anything, only—only—the boys were in for a lark and wanted me to join ’em; but I thought I knew mother wouldn’t like it.” “So they called you a coward, eh?” “Yes, sir.” Here Mr. Webster remembered that he had a letter in his pocket for bis wife, and the former conversation was not resumed, much to Herbert’s relief. Late that evening a neighbor rapped loudly at the Webster dodr. “Have you heard of the accident?” was the breathless query. “No, what accident?” asked Mrs. Webster, instinctively turning her eyes over the family group to make sure all her own were safe. “Why some of the boys went after school and bloke into Mr. Deering’s boat house—you know the Deerings are away—and got out a long canoe and went for a ride. Something happened, nobody knows just what; but anyway the boat capsized and two of the crowd are drowned, their bodies not found, and two others have been brought in more dead than alive. There were six in all.” Herbert started up with a white face. “Cal Clark?” he asked tremulously, ”Cal is one of the missing.” And then the boy who had bravely faced the sneers and ridicule of his schoolmates sat down and wept bitterly wept over the loss of his “chum.” “Ain’t it dreadful, Herbie? I am so glad you minded mother,” whispered his sister, mingling her tears with his.

“My! but I hated to be called a ‘coward’ though,” said the truthful fellow. “You weren’t one though,” said Kate. “Prof. T. says ’tis the person who yields to wrong who is the coward.” “Yes, but it is hard to think of it in that light when all the fellows are guying you. I tell you a fellow feels small then, but I’ll remember this circumstance as long as I live. Oh, Cal, my poor, dear Cal. We were such chums, and he really didn’t like the idea of going, but hated to refuse." “Hated to refuse.” These three simple words form a rock upon which many a craft has been wrecked.— Practical Farmer. He Liked ’Em Fat. Eight-year-old Sam spent a winter in Florida, and was there limited to two little girls for playmates—the only children in the vicinity. Both were charming little maidens—one a plump, heavy little blonde damsel, and the other a slim, thin, witchy little dark-eyed elf. It was soon apparent to the young man’s mother that he exhibited a decided partiality for Ethel, the stout little

playmate; always giving her the largest piece of cake, the lion’s share of the caramels and the preference in all matters of play. So the mother remarked one day, with wise desire to equalize her son’s attentions: “Sam, you ought not to give Ethel more than you do Isabel; you should treat them just alike; Isabel is just as nice as Ethel. ” It is easily imagined that the small boy’s mother was somewhat staggered when that discriminating youth answered gravely: “I like ’em fat ” —Detroit Free Press. Identification Was Easy. Not long ago an accident happened to little Barbara’s doll Gladys, which was thereupon sent to a store where surgical attention is given to wounded dolls. When the day came for it to be discharged, cured, Barbara obtained permission to go and get it. Barbara stood on tiptoe before the counter at the store and asked if her doll was mended. “I guess so,” said the young woman behind the counter, fumbling over a pile of dolls on a shelf. “But I’m afraid I can’t tell which one it is in all this lot.” “Oh, you can find her easily enough,” said Barbara, confidently. “Her name’s Gladys.” An Encouraging Beginning. On the first day of small Dean’s attendance at school he came home in a highly jubilant state of mind. “Oh, mamma!” he cried in excited and exultant tones, “What do you think; I’ve only been to school one day, and I’ve learned to say *eyether and neyether’ instead of either and neither."