The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 24 June 1915, Page 61

The Family Circle

: YOUR;COMPANY; C " A little A song rings. in my ear : , And haunts me ail day long. -,, And thiswhichever way it runs— The keynote of my song ‘ Be careful of your company,’ The little song runs ever— The down once brushed from off the peach Returns again, ah, never.’ All boys have wondrous golden dreams, The future’s filled with bliss. Dreams may come true, but don’t forget It all depends on this : * ; ‘Be careful of your company, ’Tis youthful days that mould you, The chains you play with when a boy In manhood will enfold you.’ So, when you dream, as youth will dream, And form some wondrous plan, Remember this, dear, that the boy Is father to the man. Be careful of your company, Sin’s chains are hard to sever; The down once brushed from off the peach Returns again, ah, never !

JUST A DOG. The first-time Evelyn saw him was on the steamer, when she and her brother Charlie and mamma and papa were all going on a summer holiday. He sat on a box in a corner of the main deck, a cord tied around his neck, his tail drooping mournfully, and his eyes longingly glancing about for release. Evelyn patted his head while the purser told her the story of Dandy." He was a tramp dog, and stole passage on the boat in the boldest way. But this was his last trip. A despoiled lunch basket, some hidden chicken bones, and Dandy’s look of bland, disinterested content had told the whole shameful story. ‘He shall never go again,’ answered the purser. Evelyn looked ruefully at the stubby yellow coat. ‘ If he were a prettier dog, I’d like him myself ; but he is awfully homely. His nose is like a pug’s, his ears like a water spaniel’s, his coat like a collie’s and terrier’s mixed, and'his tail like a setter’s. He’s a terribly mixedup dog. But I like his eyes.’ So it was to his big, honest eyes that Dandy owed his nice new home; but once given the chance, he won the love of his little mistress for the whole ‘ mixed-up ’ dog. Together they romped the beach at Ottawa Park, dashing over the bluffs and through the glens on wonderful tramps of adventure; and at night in the little cottage a yellow figure lay on guard just at the foot of Evelyn’s cot. „■■ • ‘ You cannot take that dog home with you, dear,’ was mamma’s verdict. • ‘ I won’t have such a looking animal around the house.’ Dandy knew all about it, and he licked his faithful little mistress’s face lovingly when her tears fell on his ugly head out in the woods. It was their last day together, and Evelyn meant to make the most of it by visiting all the old haunts. Over the hills they ran until all the cottages were passed. Over the ledge to the cliff was a narrow path, and down this Evelyn tripped until she saw the place where she wanted to rest. Then breathlessly she tugged, slipped, and floundered through the warm sand until it* was reached. It was a fine-lookout point, a cave that some boys had dug in the hillside and then deserted. ‘ I wish you were a girl or I were a dog, Dandy,’ said Evelyn wistfully, so we could be chums. I’ve seen ever so much uglier dogs than you, dearest; but mamma’— There was a queer, sliding, crushing sound, and a

r-., ;; . VvV- nr- .v, r-* - hail; of pebbles and sand; a great heavy thud, and then "I . darkness. - ••/- V" • :• .. •.0r,;;.-; 1 -v“; ' : Dandy, gasped Evelyn <as she rolled to . the far / edge of ;: the cave away jfrom:: the deluge, ‘ we’re just corked in. O, dear, me !’ ' r . ■ : ‘ - The tears tumbled in a riotous toboggan , slide ‘ down-iv the pink cheeks, and the ’-brown curls were bent to the : dust in sorrow. “Dandy fully appreciated - the danger - ■ of .the situation, but he did not cry. He : licked .the ■ bowed head, and •he sniffed carefully on all sides, then' ’ went straight to business. Pretty soon all the spiders and ants heard Evelyn’s sobs and a soft, quick scratch, scratch as Dandy’s paws dug heavily at the sand. The sun lay like a great ruby on the water when a black nose poked itself out of the mass of sand that had loosened and fallen in an avalanche before the cave, the dirty paws followed, and the owner darted , off headlong for Evelyn’s cottage. 'v: ‘Dandy’s alone!’ cried Mr. Chester when the staunch little dog bounded to the hammock’ and barked. ‘ Something wrong, I’m afraid, mother.’ Dandy tried to tell with his tail how true a guess it was;’and before the ruby sun had dipped into the . western waves he was guiding papa and brother Charlie to the cave. It was a tedious task digging with sticks, hands, anything at hand but Dandy pawed and barked cheerfully, and the work went on until finally brother Charlie crawled through and handed out a frightened, dirty, tearful little girl to papa’s arms.' - ‘ Dandy left me, papa,’ she sobbed. b Well, Dandy shall never leave you again,’ said Mr. Chester, patting the dog’s rough yellow head. ‘ He’s a hero, and even I had to learn the lesson from ’ a dog that a rough coat does not make a cur.’ Evelyn’s eyes opened wide. ‘ Why, papa, how did you know where I was?’ y Dandy did it all,’ said papa earnestly. . But the hero never blushed; he merely wagged his tail.

TWO DUNCES. " f Robert was visiting at his Uncle John’s in the city. He lived on a farm and knew very little about the city, but he wanted his cousin Fred to think he knew more than he really did. Like some other country boys, he had an idea that Fred would make sport of him if he should act as though city ways were not common, everyday things to him. This was very foolish, as Fred had no such thoughts. Indeed, he thought country ways were fine, and nothing gave him any more pleasure than a visit to a farm where there were trees, brooks, grass, wheat-fields, birds, chickens, horses, and other interesting things. While Robert was in the city he held his head high, and would not. have asked a question for anything. One morning he wanted to mail a letter back home. He knew the mail-box was on the corner of the street, but there was also the fire-alarm box. As the two boys were walking along, Robert was wondering just which was the mail-box. When they reached the corner, he walked up to one of the two, and reaching up as high as he could, tried to find an opening for his letter. . Fred turned to see what he was doing. ‘ What are you trying to do, anyway, Robert Where is the fire? Want to start a fuss?' asked Fred. ‘Better let that alone. There’s a law against bothering with those fire alarms. What’s that in your hand? Oh, a letter. Well, here is the letter-box,’ he added, opening the lid with an easy motion. ‘ When you don’t know, why don’t you ask?’ Fred was a little out of patience. Robert said nothing. When Robert returned to his home, Fred went with him for a visit to the farm. But he was just like Roberthe wanted the country folks to think he knew all about the country. He, too, was afraid that Robert would laugh at him if he did not understand all the country ways,; ■ ■ •. • • f ' One morning Robert was hitching his pony to the cart, and Fred took one side'. He had never done such a thing before, but not for anything would he have said

so. . Of course it was not done right and Robert had to fix it, all over. “ When Fred wanted to send a letter to the folks*at at home he had no idea how to mail it. The boys walked over to town, and Fred looked for mail-boxes all along the way, but did not see any. After they reached the post office he could see nothing there that looked like a mail-box. Where would he put his letter ? ‘Ah this is the place,’ he thought, going over to a queerlooking affair close to the, wall. He was about to slide the letter through the opening, when Robert stepped * What in the world are you doing, Fred ?’ Mailing my letter/ replied Fred. . tttJ That’s a chute 'down into the cellar,’ said Robert. ‘ When you don’t know, why don’t you ask ? Here is the place.’ , 0n the way home Robert spoke up suddenly. Country boys are too proud to ask questions in the city, and city boys are too proud to ask questions in the country. Wonder why!’ -- Afiaid folks will think they don’t know everything,’ laughed Fred. Well, folks usually find that out anyway,’ said Robert. ‘ We’re about even, Robert, so let’s call it square. We 11 begin over and ask all the questions we can think of. City boys know about city things and country boys know about country things, and there’s no sense in being too proud to ask questions of one another. We make dunces of ourselves when we pretend to know all about things we’ve never seen. After this we’ll be more sensible.’ • ‘ Agreed,’ said Robert.

THE TRUE MASTER. It happened one day, in a town in Holland, that a knife-grinder went to the police and declared that a certain rag-picker had stolen his dog. The authorities gave the matter due attention, and learned that the ragpicker in question really had a dog, though he refused to tell how he had come in possession of him. The case finally came to trial; and the judge, after hearing a statement of facts, said : ‘ Let the dog himself decide the case.He certainly will know his master.’ A long table was arranged, the two claimants sitting at opposite ends, and halfway between them the bailiff, holding the bog by a stout string. The judge clapped his hands, the men began to whistle and call, and the bailiff let go the rope. The animal gave one look about the court-room, gazed into the faces of both knife-grinder and rag-picker, then jumped over the table and scampered out of the door as fast as he could. There was great consternation. ‘ Search for him,’ said the judge, who was now greatly interested in the matter. So a hunt was made, and the dog wap found lying peacefully upon a hearth-rug in the house of a gentleman, from whom the knife-grinder, the original thief, had stolen him a few months before. The rag-picker, of course, had robbed the knife-grinder. Thus it sometimes happens that those who cry loudest, ‘ Stop, thief!’ are thieves themselves.

AN OLD LADY’S GRATITUDE. It was on a tram car, and it happened not very long ago. A boy, perhaps fourteen, suddenly arose from his seat and gave it to a stout lady. The stout lady looked up at him. ‘ You’re a polite lad,’ she said. ‘ Few boys nowadays would do the like.’ ‘ I guess you didn’t read yesterday’s paper,’ said the boy. ‘ There’s a story about a boy who gave up his seat in a street car to a lady, and when she died she left him £IOOO. ‘ I didn’t see it,’ said the lady. * Maybe you saw the one about the boy who carried the old woman’s basket and she gave him a brick house and a moving picture theatre ?’

■ ? h °:l: ia i d tte ‘ 1 didn’t see that one either - there was another one ’ the lari , , the boy who had a lower birth in IK’ ° n / abou * risk any chances.’ " W “ ,s - you can’t afford to The lady solemnly nodded her head. ‘Blessing on the man who invents those stories,’ she solemnly said. NEVER GIVEN. seeker P^h“t d is Jh Uw y girar h !’ * * PledgeThere ain’t any such thing, Johnny ’ renlierl fho U« g a g tr„ le ” a h n iTime had d in’ considerable giver, “4d7hVy Sn ta ter° mebody a •"* Then it’s a mistake,’ rejoined the father * Law at ’mighty 'high figured * entities

THE REASON. Josef Hofmann tells of an eminent pianist who was giving a recital, and of a man who presented two tickets and was held up by the ticket taker in fit c Y oudit?o"T S ° in ’’ "" the lattßr - ‘ you order ?^ ldn t 1 f °‘' ™ tickets ? Are they in drunk/ 1167 are Perfßotly in order > but the truth is you’re i ’Drunk! , Drunk! said the other, placing the tickets solemnly in his pocket. ■Of course I’m drunk.It 1 ueren t drunk, would I come to a piano recital V

NEVER HEARD OF THEM. At the examination of the pupils in a primary school a short time ago, the inspector put questions at random to the scholars. Among the latter was a redheaded lad, who, on being asked how many days there are in a year, answered ‘seven.’ When the tittering of the rest of the class subsided, the inspector remarked : r

‘ I said a year, not a week. Now try again. How many days are there in a year ?’ The lad appeared nonplussed and vexed for a moment, and then ejaculated : ‘ Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday—just seven. If there’s others I never heard of ’em.'

A GOOD REASON. Among the out-patients of an ophthalmic hospital one was an old man. He was turned over to one of the younger specialists, who began to test in the usual manner. Can you read that?’ he asked, as he pointed to the card placed on the wall. ‘ No, sir,’ replied the old man. The doctor then put on stronger glasses. ‘ Well,’ he inquired, ‘can you read it now?’ The old fellow shook his head, saying - No, not a word.’ After repeating this performance several times, the doctor was about to turn him over in despair to his more experienced superior, when the old man quietly explained—‘You see, doctor, I never learnt to read.’