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i POET'S CORNER. ;

-t The Road to Love Ii

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A PHENOMENAL SUCCESS.

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FOR MATRON AND MAID.

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----------t FOR THE YOUNG…

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t FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. i QUEER "DOGS." Day and night, night and day, Charlie had travelled across America, catching from the win- dows of the flying train gardens, grassy pas- tures, big barns and houses, acres of grave- vines, miles of wheat-fields, cities, and towns. "But they have great big ant-hills here," said Charlie, "big as our largest dish-pan. If the train would stop, maybe they'd look big as a little wash-tub." "See the prairie-dogs!" said the lady in the next seat. "Where? Where? I don't see anv!" cried Char We, feeling glad that he was on the train and that the dogs, which must be wild, fierce things, most as big as lions, were off on the plains. "Everywhere in the field, close by the track, and all around. Those are not ant-hills; they are prairie-dog huts. This is a prairie-dog village." "I don't see any dogs. I see a stick on the top of each ant-hill. What makes the sticks fall1 down? Why, are they the dogs? They jump dowp and frisk away so fast I can't setf where they go. There goes one, and there, and there, and there!" he cried. "They burrow for a long distance under- ground," said Mrs. Leo. "But they aren't dogs at all! They aren't as large as woodchucks! About as large as squirrels, aren't they?" "Yes, just about." "Oh, I must get some pictures of them to send back to London," said Charlie. But al- though he searched through every store he could not find a single picture of a prairie-dog village, because the "dogs" are so shy it is almost impossible to photograph them. THE BOY'S SACRIFICE. He was a good little boy and very thoughtful. When he heard about a scarcity of water in some parts of the country he came to his mother and slipped his hand into hers: "Mother," he said, "is it true that in some places the little boys and girls have scarcely enough water to drink?" "That is what the papers say, my dear." "Mother," he presently said, "I'd like to give up something for these poor little boys and girls." His mother gave him a fond look. "Yes, dear. And what would you like to give up?" "Mother," he said in his earnest way, "as long as the water is so very scarce, I think I ought' to give up being washed." WISHES. Wishes, they are but little things, Less than a bird with tiny wings; Yet we are wishing all the day, We wish the rain would go away; We wish the way was not so long; We wish the feeble ones were strong, That they no more might suffer pain; We wish that we were grown to men. If we could make our wishes true, What would you wish that you might do? One wish that's good there is, I know, i That we may better, kinder grow, e Doing each day what good we can. As child, and, when we're grown, as man; And just this wish we too may frame, That everyone would do the same.

DISTRESSING BRONCHITIS,

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-t The Road to Love Ii