of God's eternal love. Oh! what a homecoming is this; what a Thanksgiving!

Silently, with aching hearts we tuck the children away in bed and go down to receive our last good night. Yes, our last, it is plainly to be seen. The great Reaper has come for this golden grain and we must bid adieu to our mother. On earth we shall meet no more, but we shall meet in heaven.

Read for me, Archie, my boy," she says, as we all gather round her with poor, old father's head bent on the arm of her chair to conceal the anguish he will not pain her by letting her see.

And Archie reads. Strong man though he is his voice trembles, and he stops now and then to wipe away the falling tears from his cheeks as he reads to her the words that have indeed been her "Staff of Life."

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"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want." Then father prays, and our sobs will break out as we watch the flickering breath and the thin, transparent hand that' wanders over the white head pressed against the arm of her chair.

Low, clear and sweet come the parting words, "Yea, though I go down into the valley of the shadow of Death, I have no fear, for Thou art with me. Good-bye, my children, a loving Saviour unite you with me in heaven. Dear Jeems, do not mourn, you will come to me ere long, and-it is well with my soul."

With a gasp the gentle life is ended, and we are left alone to cry with motherless hearts for "mother, mother," and to comfort as best we can the lonely heart of the dear father who has lost his "all" on earth. -The Ladies' Home Journal.

1. He Wanted the Spook.

TALL, dignified looking gentleman stood facing an unoccupied house on a prominent West Side street the other day, closely scanning a large white sign which hung on the front door. The house was a handsome modern structure, two stories high, and had evidently been built by some wealthy man for residence purposes, but was now advertised as being 'For Rent."

Was."

"It's a pity that a fine house like this should stand idle for such a long time."

Why, how long has it been idle?" "Well, the last tenant moved out two years ago, and the owner can't find another who is brave enough to live in there."

"What's the matter with it? Danger of collapsing?"

"Oh, no; the house is built solid enough. The great trouble is that it's haunted." "You don't say!" And the tall man seemed to grow more interested.

"It's a fact. Every Wednesday and Friday, just at midnight, the people in the neighborhood are startled by a series of blood-curdling yells, and immediately after that two white figures appear at the upper windows. I've seen them myself.' And the good man shuddered as he thought of it.

BY J. EDMUND V. COOKE.

'F I didn't forget how old I was,

Do you think I'd act like I often does? Do you think I'd swing on the frontyard gate,

If I could remember that I was eight?

If I didn't forget how soon I'd grow
To be a big man like Uncle Joe,
Do you think my pa would have to scold
'Cuz I didn't do what I was told?

Do you think I'd set my ma so wild,
An' act so much like a little child,
If I didn't forget I was half-past eight?
An' would Miss Brown have to keep me late?

Miss Brown said I was a " little fiend,"
An' I didn't know what the old thing
meaned;

But she said 'twas becuz I played so rough,
An' it made my ma just cry-sure 'nough.

If I didn't forget, do you s'pose that I
Would ever act so's to make her cry?
And don't you suppose I'd behave just fine,
If I didn't forget I was going-on-nine?
If I could remember, do you suppose,

I wouldnt' take care of my Sunday clo'es?
An' would I get mad at my cousin Ben
Without getting right away good again?

Pa says he believes I was just born bad,
An' Uncle Joe says that I'm "like my dad,"
An' Aunt Lou says she don't suppose
I'll ever be better, but ma-she knows,
An' she hugs me clost with a kiss, becuz
She says.
I forgot how old I was.'

-By permission from Rimes to be Read," published W. B. Conkey, Chicago.

A

3. The Song of Luddy-Dud.

BY EUGENE FIELD.

SUNBEAM comes a-creeping
Into my dear one's nest,
And sings to our babe a-sleeping

The song that I love the best:
'Tis little Luddy Dud in the morning,
'Tis little Luddy-Dud at night;
And all day long

'Tis the same dear song
Of that waddling. toddling, coddling
little mite Luddy-Dud.

The bird to the tossing clover,
The bee to the swaying bud,

Keep singing that sweet song over
Of wee little Luddy-Dud:

'Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning,
'Tis little Luddy-Dud at night;
And all day long

'Tis the same dear song

Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite Luddy-Dud.

Luddy-Dud's cradle is swinging
Where softly the night winds blow,
And Luddy-Dud's mother is singing
A song that is sweet and low:

'Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning
'Tis little Luddy-Dud at nighɩ;
And all day long

'Tis the same sweet song Of my nearest and my dearest heart's delight Luddy-Dud. -Chicago Morning Record.

No

4. Daisy's Thanksgiving.

TOW kitten-cat, Daisy, just hear me,
And 'tend to each word that I say,
And don't frisk around so 'bout
nothing,

To-morrow 'll be Thanksgiving Day.
And if you don't chew up your ribbon,
Nor dabble it round in the snow,
But behave all the time, just as pretty,
You'll have something splendid, you know.
There's another thing, Daisy, I'll tell you,
Aunt Mary is coming to-day,
To show us a sweet, darling baby,

That's named just like me-Allie May.
And if it should happen to squeeze you,
Or pull your long tail the least mite,
You are not to scratch her nor bite her,
For that wouldn't be just polite.

We must do all we can that'll please her,
She being our company so;

Besides, such a new little baby

Ain't had time to learn better, you know. So if she does tease you, dear Daisy,

Though, of course, I don't say it is right,

He applied one morning bright and early. The Judge scrutinized Pat over his glasses, and then said solemnly: "Of course, Patrick, you are aware that I need a man of great discretion and general information for this place. My clients come in and have to be kept waiting; it will be your business to entertain them in the meanwhile. Then, frequently, I wish certain things done and am too much hurried to give the orders. It will be your business to see that they are carried out in spite of my negligence. So, now, if you can answer me three questions, the place is yours. Patrick-what does the moon weigh ?"

· Eh!__ I—I dunno, yer Honor." "Oh, Patrick, Patrick! Well-how many stars are there?"

Pat went out greatly crestfallen. At night when his twin brother Mike returned he told him the sad tale. Mike listened intently. Finally, after a few meditative pulls at his pipe, he asked, "An' will yez be afther lendin' me yer clothes in the marnin' till I goes an' get yer position fur yez?" Pat gladly consented.

The next morning Mike, arrayed in Pat's clothes, presented himself at the Judge's office.

"Oh! good-morning, Pat? You haven't given me up yet, eh ?"

'No, yer Honor."

'Ready to answer my three questions, Pat?"

STAGE-PROPERTIES: An old fashioned farmhouse, Stage R.; a long rain-washed work bench leaning against the house; standing on it a tin wash basin, and a bucket of water; at Stage C., an old-fashioned well, moss-covered, and having wooden buckets; near the well, a rustic bench and a three-legged stool. Background, a forest and hill scene at Back C., and Back L. Foreground, covered with dirt, bits of stones and leaves.

SCENE: As the curtain rises, Jan Vedder pours water into the tin basin from the bucket. He sets it down hard and washes his face with his hands over the tin basin. A good deal of water is splashed about: When the washing is completed, he dries his face on a long roller towel hanging on the roller attached to the house above the bench. Jan next combs his hair while gazing at himself in the small looking glass (nailed to the house in front of him). Enter Squire Smith's son, Will. He shuffles across the yard with hat on the back of his head and hands in pockets. He wears high rough boots and has his trousers tucked in them.

WILL. Good mornin', Jan, ere ye a-goin' ter gether in yer apples to-day? I see by the looks uv yer trees that yer red apples ere jest abaout right fer pickin'. An' so I hev cum over ter help ye a bit. [Acts very awkward, puts hands in and out of pockets, mops his face, and hitches his clothes occasionally.]

JAN. Waal, I dew declare, ef thet ain't reel thoughtful uv ye, Will. Yer good, Will. I've allus said ter Semanthy Ann, I hev, an' ter Lilith tew-there, naow, there, naowWill-ye needn't blush thet way. I've allus sed ye wuz a good boy. I wonder where thet gal is this mornin'. Seems ter me she's bin gone these two hours. I guess she's over tew Ann Silly's house, Beats all haow fond she hez become uv thet gal. She didn't used ter fancy her one bit-but then there's no tellin' abaout the likin's uv gals naow adays. The fac' is, Will, I allus thought she fancied ye ontil thet city chap come along. Sence his comin' she acts rether queer, she does. Ye didn't see her, did ye, on the way here?

WILL. Yaas, ter tell the truth, I did. She's over by the back woods a talkin' ter thet city chap. I'm afeerd it's all up fer me with her.

JAN. There naow, boy [pats WILL on the shoulder], don't ye b'lieve thet. I've said Lilith shell marry ye en I mean it. I dew. [Slaps his hand hard on the well curb.] Naow ye jist go along to the orcherd. I'll be there soon. Here take the basket along. [Exit WILL. JAN sits down on rustic bench and appears to think.] Thet gal hes got to be handled purty rough I gues', she's fooled abaout long enough. I can't, I wont stend it any longer. [Slaps his knee then calls out loud:] Semanthy Ann!! Semanthy Ann!!!! [Voice inside house: I'm comin', I'm comin', wait a bit." Enter SEMANTHY ANN from the house.]

SEMANTHY ANN. Waal, whut dew ye want naow? [She sits on the bench alongside her husband.]

JAN. I've been thinkin', I hev'. SEMANTHY ANN. Indeed, waal thet's good, thet is. What hev ye bin thinkin' abaout,

Jan?

JAN. Abaout our gal, Lilith. I'm thinkin' it's time she married en settled daown, an' the likeliest feller I knows on is Squire Smith's son, Will.

SEMANTHY ANN. I agree with ye, Jan. Will is a very proper young man an' jist the man fer my Lilith, though I could wish him a little brighter; a man should allus be the likeliest uv the two, ye know.

JAN. He's bright enough. Naow ye've got an onpleasant job before ye, en thet is to manage Lilith. She's abaout heels over head in love with thet city chap, en ye mus' tell her to quit, an' at once tew-dew ye hear thet? She's yer dorter, en it's yer place to do the talkin' to her en ter make her understand. That city chap, he's got to git

SEMANTHY ANN. O yes, I hear. I'd hev to be pretty deaf not tew. Ye can rest easy on one pint, thet city chap goes. No child uv mine shall marry sech a fool. His "dontcher-know" is tew much fer me. Ye can go naow, fer I hear Lilith singin' in the lane.

[Exeunt Jan off L. and Semanthy Ann into the house. She returns quickly with a pan of beans and seats herself on the rustic bench. Enter Lilith, back L., singing "Comin' thro the Rye," sees her mother, and rushes forward quickly, kisses her from the back.]

LILITH. There ma, isn't that nice?
SEMANTHY ANN. Yaas, it is.

LILITH [Sits on three-legged stool and begins to shell the beans.] I've been way down by the backwoods, ma, and I saw Timothy, ma. He's very nice, ma. I like him better every day [blushing and leaning against her mother]. I love him, ma. SEMANTHY ANN. I'm ruther glad ye've spoke abaout him, 'cause yer Par end I hev decided he's not the chap fer ye, en he hes to go.

LILITH [grieved]. But ma, I love Timothy, an' I couldn't [begins to sob], I couldn't really do without him. O, ma please, please coax pa to let me have him.

SEMANTHY ANN. Lilith, I'm ashamed uv ye, I am. Thet a dorter uv mine should fall in love with sech an object. Ye can take yer choice, right naow, ye ken give up thet feller en marry Squire Smith's son, Will, or ye needn't ever speak ter me agin nor to yer pa neither.

LILITH [Straightens up, tosses back her curls, rises and looking calmly yet sadly in

her mother's face.] Mother, I love Timothy Green and I won't give him up. [Breaks down again and sobs.] Oh, mother, take it back, won't you, he's so nice. You'll learn to like him as I do, if you only try.

SEMANTHY ANN. Lilith, ye've heerd whut I've sed. Yer par an' I hev talked it over en we know what we've said is fer the best. Ye hev ter decide naow, ye hear? We didn't send ye to school an' to a simin'ry jest to marry sech a feller. Dew ye hear?

LILITH. I do, ma, and I'll think about it, but, oh, if you and pa will only let me have Timothy. [She sinks on the footstool and sobs hard. Exit SEMANTHY ANN with pan of beans. Enter TIMOTHY, R. Sees LILITH crying, rushes forward and hugs her, then kisses her.]

TIMOTHY. Lilith, my own, my one love. What is it, sweet cherub ?

LILITH. Ma says I can't marry you, and pa and she have decided I must marry Squire Smith's son, Will. Oh, I can't.

TIMOTHY [frowning hard, then striking an attitude, then stuffing his hands into his pockets, then striding about the stage; he turns back to LILITH and smoothes her hair]. I've a plan, little girl, let's run away together. Will you? I'll marry you in Albany and then we can go straight to New York to father's, don't-cher know!

LILITH. Oh, I can't do that, Timothy. Pa would never forgive me, he wouldn't.

TIMOTHY. Oh, yes be will, in time. They all do, you know.

[They whisper together a little while, Lilith puts on her hat and, looking around in a half scared way, they pass off L. Back. As Lilith reaches back of stage she turns, looks at house with longing eyes and kissing her fingers disappears. Enter Jan and Will, acting all tired out. They sit on rustic bench.]

SEMANTHY ANN. She wuz here not two

seconds ago. I guess she's in her room. I'll go and see. [Exit SEMANTHY ANN.]

JAN. I guess its all straight fer ye, ye can go home happy. [Exit WILL. Enter SEMANTHY ANN all out of breath.]

SEMANTHY ANN. She's not in her room nor in the house, nuther. I dew wonder where she is. I'm worrited, I am. She tuk on so abaout thet Timothy. [Calls:] "Lilith!! Lilith!!! Lilith!!!!" Where in the world is tbet gal any way? [Enter JEDEDIAH MEASLEY very much excited.]

JEDEDIAH MEASLEY. Waal, Semanthy Ann, ye needn't call yer Lilith. My son, Tom,

64

saw her in a wagon with thet city chap on the Albany road. They were makin' their old nag go at a pretty lively gait, I can tell ye. He heard the city chap tell Lilluth: Yer needn't cry, dearest, we'll soon be in Albany an' married, an' then I'll keer fer ye, I will. Yer par an' mar can't tech ye then. SEMANTHY ANN [Looks at JAN and says:] It's yer fault, Jan, all yer fault. I told yer so. [Throwing her apron over her head, she rushes off the stage sobbing.]

JAN. Ef that gal hes run off with that chap, I'll never forgive her, never, never! A dorter uv mine tew disgrace me so. She'll never hev a cent uv mine,-thet settles it, Jedediah Measley. I'll leave every cent I hev to yer son, I will. [Exit JAN.]

JEDEDIAH M. [Throws his hat up into the air.] Hurrah! Hurrah! my boy will be rich, he will, real rich. Can't we put on airs! [Curtain falls.]

Aunt Betsy, an old maid.

Mrs. Jones, an inquisitive woman.
Aunt Betsy Jones.

Mary Ann Stiff, a vain girl.
Mary Jane, a bashful girl.

Lilith, a very elegantly dressed woman.
Several women and girls.

COSTUMES: Clothes of 1860; the kind worn by country people while working.

STAGE: Interior of Jan Vedder's barn. Place, Green County. Decorations:-Corn stalks and corn in the husks, hanging at sides and back of stage and from the ceiling. Common lanterns, lighted, hang here and there among the decorations. In the centre of the stage a heap of unhusked corn on the stalks; around the heap a number of upturned boxes and tubs.

SCENE: As the curtain rises Jan is seen shuffling about the barn looking to see if all is in readiness. He lights a lantern near the back of the stage and, hearing a sound, looks around quickly and discovers a small boy seated upon the floor in the left back corner. He tiptoes toward the boy in a very awkward manner, grabs him quickly by the back of the neck and hauls him up to view;

the boy's face is covered with jam, and he holds a jam-pot in his right hand. His face wears a very frightened expression.

JAN. Waal, I swan ef ye ain't narvy, an' an' jes' like yer par,-Josiah Butterworth, right over agin. A chip off the old block, alwuz a-doin' o' somethin' mean en sneaky. [Boy wiggles and tries to get away.] It's easy seein', Josiah Juney, ye wuz never taught sech tricks, it's nateral! nateral! thet's what it is! [Gives him a shake.] Say, naow, where did ye get thet jam? [Gives another shake.]

JOSIAH J. I dunno. [Whines and rubs his eyes with his left hand.] I found it.

JAN. Don't ye tell me no lie, boy [boy hangs his head, JAN puts his hand under the boy's chin and lifts it so as to look in his face], I ken stend anythin' but thet.

JOSIAH J. Honest Injun! [Shakes himself loose and while sneaking for the door says:] I did-find-it-on the table-see! [Stands for a second with his index finger at the side of his nose, then making a face, runs out and slams the door.]

JAN, Waal, waal, waal! ef thet ain't Josiah Butterworth right over agin, an' they do say the sins of the father is visited on the children way down to the present generation, and I reely believe it, I do. Waal, waal, I want to know- [Shakes his head doubtfully. Enter JEDEDIAH MEASLEY.]

JEDEDIAH M. "Waal, I say, Jan, haow do ye do? It's goin' to be a fine evenin' for yer huskin'. [Puts his hands in his pockets and strides across the stage in an awkward fashion, shakes hands country style, then puts his hands in his pockets.] Haow's Semanthy Ann? Be she injyin' good health naow? [JAN shakes his head dolefully, gives a hitch to his breeches, takes something from one pocket and puts it in a nervous fashion into the other, puts a straw in his mouth, shakes his head and looks sadly at JEDEDIAH, pulls the straw out of his mouth and throws it away. JEDIDIAH'S face looks sad also.] Poor man, I pity you, I do reel, reel bad. Poor man!

JAN. I reckin the weather affects her rhumatiz, but she expects to jine us sum time tonight, Jedediah. She's thet way, ye knaow. She alwuz wants to be abaout even with the rhumatiz. [Enter SEMANTHY ANN hobbling across the stage; stops when she sees JEDEDIAH; laughs quite heartily, putting her hands on her hips.]

SEMANTHY ANN. Waal, waal, I dew declare, ef there ain't Jedediah Measley [aside] an' he is a measley. [To JEDEDIAH:] I'm so glad ter see yer. Haow is yer ma, and haow is Elizah Jane? I don' reckon she'll be here to night, will she, Jedediah?"

JEDEDIAH M. O, I guess so! Yer know