Evening Republican, Volume 14, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 February 1910 — YOUNGFOLKS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

YOUNGFOLKS

Her Union. I never took to dolls—not me! I’d rather race or climb a tree. And I just hate to sit and sew; It seems so very tame and slow. The dishes are an awful bore; They do annoy me more and more. But, worst of all, I hate to dust. Or scour the knives of stain and rust And yet I do them every day,

These things I hate, before I play; Because, if you must really know, My mamma makes me. soil’ll grow Into a lady fine and good; For otherwise I never could. And she knows what she’s talking of, For she’s a person you would lqve. If I can grow to be 3s sweet My dream of life will be complete. —Detroit Free Press. With His Talent, Too! Reginald wept to kindergarten for the first time this fall, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. At the end of a week he came home proudly bearing a paper folded in the shape of a boat. "Well, what did you learn at school this week?” asked a big cousin. “Learned how to make this,” said Reginald, proudly displaying the folded boat. The cousin feigned great surprise. “You don’t mean to'tell me you have been a whole week at school and only learned that!” Reginald thought seriously for a few minutes over this view of the situation; then he looked up at his cousin with a confident smile: “ ’Tis comical, Isn’t it?” he said, with a look that im•pHed pity over the foolishness of his instructors.—Chicago News. The Hour-Glam. Elinor’s Aunt Mary had sfent her the loveliest present, an hour-glass, at least Elinor called it that, all done in the gayest Scotch plaidij! But it really was so small that the sand in trickling through marked just five minutes, and it had to be turned and turned and turned twelve whole times to make a full hour. But Elinor never Worried about that. It was an hour-glass, a time-glass, anyway, all her own. Now how much pleasanter practising would be, for she could keep it on the piano, and the scales would seem twice as interesting

with the little red stream of sand to mark their faltering notes. And Elinor’s mother was delighted, too, for In the next week she never had to say to her little daughter, “Elinor, your half-hour’s practicing is due now." Instead there was a willing little girl waiting for the time to come. But when Elinor’s teacher came the next week, she looked very grave indeed. The scales and the new finger exercises went very badly; her pupil’s fingers stumbled more than usual. "I don’t believe you have practiced regularly, Elinor,” said Miss Blake, reproachfully. "Oh, yes, I have. Truly,” and Elinor nodded her head earnestly. “For half an hour every morning?” asked Miss Blake again. * "Yes, Miss Blake, really. And with my new hour-glass. It was such fun!” answered Elinor. “See!” and slipping down from the stool, she proudly showed her tiny glass with the thin little red stream slipping through. “See! When it’s all run through, why, then I turn it over again, for thirty minutes are half an hour, and five ip thirty goes six times, you know.” “And I suppose you have to watch it carefully to be sure,” said Miss Blake, trying not to smile. “Yes, I do,” replied Elinor, gravely. Then Miss Blake broke out laughing. “Why, dear child!” she cried. "This is worse than doing your scales and exercises with your eyes always on the clock, and I’ve warned you about that, you remember. You’ve Jiad tb jump up so much to turn that little glass over six times, that I wonder how you learned your lessons as well as you did. Next time let’s go by the mantelpiece clock, and let your dollies practice by that hour-glass. I’m sure it would look just right- on top of their piano.” This Elinor happily promised.— Youth’s Companion.

—ls I Were a Bear. I do declare, If I were a bear And wanted to creep Away to sleep „ The whole season through, I would not go < When the cold winds blow. - When there’s heaps of snow. When there’s skating nights. And snowball fights, And lots of things to do. I do declare If I were a bear And wajited to creep Away to sleep The long, long season through. I’d wait till the breeze Sang soft in the trees A lullaby with the birds and the bee* When the drowsy hum Of the insects come, Then down by the cool Old swimming pool I’d lie and doze Until, who knows? The winter snows Would waken me. If I were a bear I do declare That’s just what I should do.