The Family Circle

New Zealand Tablet, 29 July 1915, Page 61

The Family Circle

■ ;;'; LITTLE BROTHER. Your dimpled face, when you were three, ;: . From faded portrait smiles at me. A curling topknot crowns your brow, Open and honest then as now. Jacket you wear in old-time taste, And trousers pleated at the waist, - Lovingly fashioned by the care Of her whose name is now a prayer. ) Gone is the small boy pictured here— You outgrew curls and garments queer. Too soon your boisterous youth was o'er; Too soon man's heavy load you bore. Now vainly your stern face I scan To find -the child within the man, Until you smile, then I surprise My little brother in your eyes. PETER'S JOKE. All through school Peter had by various winks and signs made it known to his particular chum, Jerry Cullen, that he had something of importance to communicate. ; And as soon as recess came he hurried Jerry to a corner of the grounds where they might talk without interruption. ' Say,' exclaimed Peter, eagerly, 'l've got the finest joke. I thought of it last night.' Jerry's eyes grew big. 'Tell a fellow, Pete,' he coaxed. 'Well, you. know our new girl—Christine is hexname, and she hasn't been in America long, and is awful easy. I heard her mooning around wishing she'd get a letter from home, so I planned we'd tell her there was one for her at the post office, and for her to go and get it; we'll say there wasn't enough stamps on it, see?' ' She'll be fooled sure and good,' cried Jerry, hopping from one foot to the other, ' but what'll she do when she gets there?' ' Oh, it'll be great—the postmaster won't understand, and Christine won't either, and it will be a fine mix-up. Then; too, she just hates to go out at night, she's 'fraid as death of witches/ ' Well, I guess she'll go for a letter all right,' said Jerry. Then he added, ' When we're through with her we'll join the boys at the big oak, they've got lots of barrels for the fire.' - All right,' returned the other. Christine was taking some cookies from the oven when the two boys rushed in. ' Say, Chris/ cried Peter, ' there's a letter for you at the post office; it needs some more postage, that's why you haven't had it. You better go get it this afternoon or they'll burn it up.' Here Peter winked at Jerry, who grimaced back at him. The girl started and almost dropped the dish she held. 'A letter, you say ? Ah, it has come; I have waited, oh, such a long time; now it comes and I am so glad.' Peter felt a sense of shame creeping over him ; he almost wished he had not thought of this fine joke. Jerry was grinning sheepishly. ' Look out for the witches, Christine,' said he; 'there'll be lots about.' The girl looked at him doubtfully, ' Oh, but there is no witch could keep from me my home letter/ she said. Then as Mrs. Logan came into the kitchen she asked permission to go to the village for her letter. '-Why/of course you can go, Christine,' returned her mistress. Then she looked at Peter, whose face grown very red. . - . . ~,-•. . , 'How did you happen to go to the post-office today, son?' she asked. , ' ' '/' r: /'// //.■/ ' Oh, Iwe, that is, we just happened' in/ stammeted. Peter. .His joke was not turning out Ito be very funny after all. . /-.../i'i--,!. ~•'•• ': ,;

Christine looked happy and excited. She gave the boys a lot of cookies she had made. Z '■' •.'■'' 'I meant them for supper, but you bring me such good news you must have some now,' said she,, with a broad. smile. -•■'■.■'■■>' v - • r '-■>'! The boys felt that the cakes would choke them. Peter was tempted to tell, but he was afraid Jerry would laugh at him. Christine was soon ready to start,, She nodded and waved good-bye as she trudged along the dusty road. It was a long walk to the village, but Christine had no idea of taking the trolley. The boys were just getting ready to join their mates at the big oak when the 'phone rang. Mrs.-Logan answered it. Peter/ she said, as she hung up the receiver, 'I am sorry, but I am obliged to go to Aunt Mary's K as she isn't well and needs me. Now that Christine has gone out you will have to stay in until she returns, for I may not be back for some time, and I cannot leave without someone staying here.' Peter's face grew blank. Here was a fine end to all- his plans for scaring Christine. 'I may not even be back for tea,' continued his mother, ' but Christine will be home in time for that meal. lam very sorry, dear, but it can't be helped. You can go out for a little while after tea.' But Peter's face did not grow any brighter. He knew his father never allowed him to stay out at night. He wished, oh, how he wished, he had never thought of this silly old joke. • How long the. afternoon seemed. Jerry soon left and there was nothing to do. He didn't want to read and it was so lonely. He wished—tlyjfc is, he almost wished—he could be a girl for a little.while and cry. He was standing disconsolately by the window when he saw Christine coming. He turned away, for he didn't feel like meeting her. But Christine came right up to him and she looked, oh, so happy. ' I got my letter/ she exclaimed, ' but there was plenty of stamps. The man, he did not understand when I told him about that; it was directed not quite right; that is why it had not come yet. I got it sooner by going and I did not have to pay any money/ Peter was astonished, but all the same he was glad, too. That night, when Mrs. Logan came home, having left Aunt Mary better, she said to Peter: ' I am so glad Christine got her letter, for, Peter, I was afraid for just a moment that you were playing a very unkind joke.' Peter hung his head ; for a little while he didn't say anything, then he looked xip bravely and told mamma all about it. And when he had promised that he would apologise to Christine, and that never again would he play unkind or cruel jokes on. any one, he said: ' Wasn't it fortunate that there was a letter for Christine' after all V ' Indeed it was/ returned mamma, ' fortunate for Christine, but, most of all, fortunate for you, Peter boy.' YOUR LEVEL BEST. One of Mark Twain's humorous poems deals with a young man who was chiefly remarkable for the fact for whatever he undertook to do, 'he did his level best.' No matter what the undertaking was, great or small, important or insignificant, 'he did his level best.' Ho was wise. It pays to be thorough. The young man was hired to patch a fence by one of the petty office-holders of the place. ' Don't put any unnecessary work on it/ the man said; and being out of sight behind the shrubbery, it won't matter what it -looks' like. It isn't worth more than a dollar; if you'll do it for that, go ahead. The young-man spent the best part of the day on the job. When he came for his pay his employer went out to look at the patch.' It was not only substantially done, but "with the utmost neatness -and care. / - ."' I told you I didn't care how it looked, -didn't .1 %% said the owner, angrily. ' Now you'll be wanting threequarters of a day's pay—' -, -, •_ '\ *j"

' I said I'd do it for a dollar,', returned the workman, shouldering his v tools, * because I wanted the money. If I'd finished in half the time and '-gone home I should only have been sitting around there doing nothing.' >./ •■>/.- vTv/ >[ '4-0\ f!!:,y\ !i ' Well, you're a mighty foolish boy—that's all I've got to say,' replied the other, as he handed over the money. Not long after this the young carpenter went to a neighboring town and steadily worked his way up. Some ten years later the owner of the patched fence had risen to the position of county commissioner, and his little town, a growing city, was about to erect a number of fine municipal buildings. Among the many applicants for the contract the commissioner noticed a name that seemed in some way familiar to him. After a moment he recalled.the incident of the patched fence. The estimate of the young carpenter, who was now a contractor, proved to be a reasonable one, and the work was given into his hands. " You want bonds' the man began. ' No,' returned the commissioner, 'it won't be necessary in this case, I think. That patch you once put on my fence is guarantee enough. It's standing yet.' A PHIL MAY STORY. In his recently published book, Twenty Tears of My Life, Mr. Douglas Sladen tells a good story of that wonderfully gifted artistic genius, the late Phil May. After a convivial night, Phil hailed a cab, and then discovered that he had forgotten his address. 'Well, how am I to get you there?' asked the cabby. ' I don't know what the name of the house is, but I think I could draw it.' ' There are a good lot of houses in London,' said the cabby, ' and they are mostly all alike.' ' But there is a church near it,' said Phil; 'and I could draw that.' A menu card and pencil were procured, and he drew a picture of the ordinary London house and a rather toyshop church. The "cabby looked at it and said : 'I know where it is; that's Osnaburgh terrace.' So Phil got into the cab, and then the cabby turned round to Corbould and myself and said, ' That's Phil May, ain't it?' We said yes, and he unbuttoned his coat and put the menu card carefully in his pocket, remarking, ' It will be worth something some day.' WHAT HE USUALLY SMOKED. During his recent visit to stricken Servia, Sir Thomas Lipton made himself so popular that he was affectionately nicknamed by the Servian soldiers ' Tchika Toma,' or ' Uncle Tom.' Sir Thomas is known among his friends as a wit of no mean order, and he is especially liked on account of the fact that he is never ashamed of his humble origin. Not long ago he was the guest of a very wealthy man, who brought out a box of very choice cigars and handed them to him. 'I do not know whether you will like these cigars, Sir Thomas,' he said. 'What do you usually smoke?' ' Bacon,' answered Sir Thomas, quietly. COULD NOT MAKE HER MORE UNCOMFORTABLE. t Mrs. M. did not wish to offend her new cook. ' John,' she said to the man servant, ' Can you find out, without asking the cook; whether the canned salmon was all eaten last night ? You see, I don't wish to ask her, because she may have eaten it, and then she would feel uncomfortable,' added the good soul. 'lf you please, ma'am,' replied the man, ' the new cook has eaten the canned salmon, and if you was to say anything to her you couldn't make her feel any more uncomfortable than she is.' '.

HE-MEANT IT.

■l'i] It must be trying to a great personage to have his claims to distinction all unknown, but, however trying the situation, he had best be cautious about attempting to set it : : right. A- Scottish gentleman, learned by experience. -. ;. , . "/'/' - : ".;.^"J.- '-■■■ ;//':_//'- ~ ■ Wyfe r He had a dispute with a London cabman over an eighteen-penny fare. He had offered a shilling only, :and the cabman had remonstrated with him. Drawing himself up with dignity, he said: * "• ;' Eh, mon, but I think ye dinna ken whom ye're speaking to! ■, I'm the Macintosh !' / ; The cockney was not properly impressed; ; he retorted sharply : , :; ' _/_ . ■■;'l don't care if you're the Ilumberella; I mean to have that sixpence!' TOO FAMILIAR. The death of Charles F. Frohman in the sinking of the Lusitania has brought out a number of stories creditable to the wit of the famous manager. A pleasantry much attributed to Oliver Herford' was really Mr. Frohman's mild rebuke to a pushing person. It was some years ago and C. F. and Arthur Wing Pinero were lunching at the Princess Restaurant—this -predated the days of the Savoy grill— a man unknown to both bustled across the room, clapped the manager on the shoulder and with a cheerful greeting to both his victims : ' Hello, C. F. ! Hello, Pin ! Don't you remember me? I'm Hopkins.' ' Ah, Mr. Hopkins,' said Mr. Frohman, 'I can't say I remember your name, and I don't recall your face, but your manner is deliciously familiar, you know.* THEIR ONLY HOPE. An examination was being held in little Emma's school and one of the questions asked was ' Upon what do hibernating animals subsist during the winter V Emma thought for several minutes and then wrote : ' On the hope of a coming spring.' AN ACCOMMODATING APPLICANT. " The vicar advertised for an organist the other day. Among the replies he received was the following : Dear Sir, —I notice that you have a vacancy for an-organist and music teacher, either lady or gentleman. Having been both for several years, I beg to apply for the position.' A FEATHERED SENTRY. During the South African war it. was not an uncommon occurrence for an ostrich to make friends with the soldiers. A correspondent with General Methuen at the Modder River gave an interesting account of one of these queer friendships: 'While I ranged the valley or plain with my glasses, something slipped and fell heavily over the loose stones behind me. I turned, thinking to dodge or help a stumbling man, and found myself staring into the great brown eyes of an ostrich, six feet tall and with legs as thick as and longer than my own.- ' "He came up here some days ago," said a soldier, "and. he always stays here now. We feed him and fool with him, and he seems very happy." The ostrich stalked past me and took a position between the major and the captain, where, after appearing to observe that they were very busy scanning the 4. .." landscape, he, too, stared at the plain and remained erect and watchful, in appearance the highest type of a ~ sentry. He marred this fine effect for just a moment by seizing and swallowing a box of safety ' matches. After that he continued his sentry duty with satisfac- ,- •. tion in his eyes.' . / _ " ~ '*