Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 June 1883 — Aneedotes for Young People. [ARTICLE]

Aneedotes for Young People.

LORD BYBON.', Lord Byron, when, only Ip yean old, was sent by his parents to the Isle (He) of Man to spend Michaelmas (mik-el-mas) with a maiden aunt who was a great fa-vor-ite of his. This good woman had a-dopt-ed a little girl, the daughter of a poor Manx fish-er-man, whom she treated as if she'were her own child. Mary—this was the name of the little girl—had blue eyes and cprly hair. Although was very pretty and was always dressed in el-e-gant gowns she was not vain of her beauty. This little girl, who was only 9 years of age, knew the Thirty-Nine Ar-ti-cles by heart and could recite whole pages from the Pilgrim’s Pro-gress. Byron’s aunt called Mary in fromjhe garden where the in-dus-trious child was wont to spend her leisure time watering her roses, of which she was very fond. “Come in, Mary, I have a stranger here. I want you to make his ac-quaint-ance.” Mary came running in, holding in her hand a sweet-smelling flower. “Mary, this is my nephew, who has come to stay with us. Shake hands with him and give him a kiss. ” Mary ap-proach-ed and held up her rosy lips to the little stranger, but he turned away and hid himself behind his aunt’s chair. Thus it was that Byron at the early age of 10 years showed that re-pug-nance to the softer sex which char-ac-ter-ized him throughout life. BENEDICT ARNOLD. When Ben-e-dict Arnold was quite a lad he was in-duc-ed by some wicked com-pan-ions to enter an orchard and steal apples. The farmer who owned the orchard, hearing the barking of the watch dogs, roused his hired man and. went into the orchard, when he came upon young Arnold, who was escaping with his hat full of apples. ‘ “You young rogue, where are your fellows? Tell me, or I’ll have you whipped at the cart’s tail.” “Farmer Hobson, they have made their escape.” “Their names, then.” “That I will never tell,” spoke the boy. “If you tell me their names not a hair of your head shall be touched, but if you refuse, to-morrow you will be whipped.” “Never, if they flay me.” “Come, now, my little man, here is a bright new guinea which you may keep if you but tell me their names and you may go free,” said the farmer, taking a golden guinea from his purse and handing it to the culprit. “Farmer Hobson, I own a guinea is a great sum to a boy of my age; but, sir, I would not betray my playmates for all the gold in New England; I’d die rather than be a traitor.” The good farmer was so moved by this youthful act of fi-del-i-ty that he placed the guinea in the hand of the brave boy. “Take that; you are the stuff of which heroes are made, your country will yet be proud of such a son.” Children, history tells you how lit-er-al-ly was ful-tilled the proph-e-cy of Farmer Hobson.— New York World.