Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 23, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 June 1894 — CHILDREN’S COLUMN. [ARTICLE]

CHILDREN’S COLUMN.

A DEPARTMENT FOR LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS. Something that Will Interest the Juvenile Members of Every Household—Quaint Actions and Bright Sayings of Many Cute and Cunning Children. The Runaway Boy. Wunst I sassed my pa. an he Won’t stand 'at, and he punished ma Nen when he wui gon that day I slipped out an runned away. I took all my copper cents An climbed over our back fence In the jlmson weeds ’at growed Ever* where all down the road. • Nen I got out there, an nen I runned some—and runned again. When I met a man ’at led A big cow 'at sbooked her head. I went down a long, long lane. Where wuz little pigs a-play’n. An jumped up an skeered me, too. Nen I scampered past, an they Wuz somebody hollered “Hey!” An just looked ever’where. An they wuz nobody there I want to, but I'm frald to try To go back • • • An by an by Bomepln hurts my th’oac Inside— An I want my ma—an cried. Nen a great big girl come through Where’s a gate, and telled me who Am I, an es I telled where My home's at she’ll show me there But I couldn’t ’lst but tell What’s my name, and she says “Well,” An ’lst looked me up an says, “She know where I live, she guess.” Nen she telled me hug wlte close Round her neck—an on she goes Sklppln up the street! Ah nen Purty soon I’m home agen. An my ma, when she kissed me, Kissed the big girl, too, an she Kissed me—es I p’omlse shore I won’t run away no more! —James Whitcomb Kiley.

A Little King's Daughter. One day in the early spring little Bertha looked up into her mother’s face pleadingly, saying, “Mamma, dear, tan’t I have a darden all my very own?” Kind Mrs. Cleverly never denied her children any reasonable request, so it was decided that Bertha should have her own little garden to care for herself. As she was too small to understand anything about planting, her mother had some asters, a row of daisies and a bed of pansies set out. Never was a little girl more busy. She watered the plants and soon grew to know when weeds appeared. No part of the yard looked prettier or neater than Bertha’s dearly loved flower bed. Our little gardener had a sister who belonged to the King’s Daughters. This sister often told of the different ways in which her friends had made money to spend in' charltable work, little dreaming that her sister was drinking in every word she said. Soon the flowers were in bloom, and Bertha was very proud of her pets. One afternoon, Katie, the maid, came into the house in great distress, crying: “Oh, Mrs. Cleverly, sure, and the posies is all gone out of the baby’s garden!” When Mrs. Cleverly hurried out, she found it all too true. Every flower had been nipped from the plants, not even a half-opened i bud remaining to mourn for its companions.

She went into the house much perplexed and distressed, for she knew how grieved her little girl would be when she was told of her great loss. While the sat wondering who could be so cruel as to rob her pet, in came Bertha, shouting: “Ob, mamma, I’ve dot all my flowers, every one, made into bunches to sell; tause I’m a Tin’s Daughter, and I’m doing to dive the money all to the poor people.” “Bless your precious heart,” cried her mother, as she held the little girl close in her arms, while tears filled her eyes, “you are a King’s Daughter Indeed. ” Never were flowers more readily sold, and better prices were never pais than were given to this dear worker for the King’s poor. The little King’s Daughter never regretted the loss of her flowers, for the lesson learned so early in life resulted in many noble deeds in lateryears. Boy’s Speeches. At one of the big private schools for boys over in Brooklyn, says the New York Times, there is a debating society which meets once a fortnight and discusses various questions of public interest. Atone meeting capital punishment was the subject presented, and the young lad upon whom the duty of opening the meeting rested was somewhat embarrassed over his position. When the meeting was called to order, however, he promptly stood up and began, “Mr. Chairman and gentlemen, the subject which we are about to discuss this evening is one of the most vital importance to everybody in this room," but he never got any farther in that sentence, for he was greeted with

cheers and (laughter that effectually interrupted him. Of course the young speaker did not mean to imply that every one of his listeners was in danger of being hanged or electrocuted, but what he said sounded like it, and so they laughed. Another ,boy speaker at another class debating society got himself laughed at, too, once when he stood up to talk about Gen. Grant He was very much embarrassed and frankly confessed that he was able to say very little. "But,” he added, “if I were to say but three words, I should wish to make them a continuous eulogy upon General Grant” That boy is a gray-haired man now, but he and his friends still laugh at his continuous three word eulogy. Something Lacking. A certain doctor living in the upper part of the city has a bright and obervlng 4-year-old daughter. She has a brother a few years older, of whom she is very fond, and who for her amusement sometimes draws pictures on slate or paper. A few evenings ago he was thus engaged and essayed to draw an elephant. He shaped the body, head and legs, and before adding the proboscis a moment to look at it. The little girl had been watching every stroke of the pencil with great interest, waiting patiently for him to finish, and when he stopped and she thought he was done exclaimed, “Why, Johnnie, you forgot to put on his sachel!” For the moment she couldn’t think of the word trunk and evidently concluded the other word would do as well.—Utica Observer. For a Duchesz Doll. Perhaps the finest doll’s house in England is that ordered by the Duchess of Portland for her little daughter, Lady Victoria Bent! nek. The reception rooms are hung with brocade, the stairs carpeted, the doors open and shut, and the bedrooms are beautifully furnished.