Part 2

Mrs. Nye loves peace and a quiet house. But Robby Nye, her lit-tle son, loves racket, noise, hubbub, con-fu-sion and war. Mrs. Nye has to fold newspapers in-to soldier-caps and she has to cut out epaulets and belts and straps and stars and badges, and her room is strewn with these things--some-times she has to cut out and pin on whole suits of armor. And when Mrs. Nye leaves her chair she is likely to step on a tin soldier and her dress sweeps down whole regiments. Bang! bang! cries Robby, and charges up and down the room. He thinks he looks like a great general--in his own mind he swells up to a tre-men-dous size. But at night this terrible soldier creeps up in-to his mamma's lap just like other boys.

TALK TO ME, TOO, MAMMA.

PRIDE.

If I were a rich lit-tle doll And rode in a coach my own, I would bow when I passed those dolls Who walk be-cause they have none; And I think I will break a twig, Just here on the green roadside. And punish your dear lit-tle hands To teach you the sin of pride.

WHY TIPTOE BARKED.

In ran Tiptoe. Tiptoe had news to tell. But they were all asleep. Asleep in the daytime, Grandpa in his big chair, Ned on one knee, and Ba-by on the other. "O what a waste of time!" thought Tiptoe. "They don't know what I have seen! dandelions in the grass! bluebirds on the fence! Chickens in Speckle's coop! three lit-tle new cats at the barn! and the sun shines and the wind blows! and the clouds race a-cross the sky!" Tiptoe barked for joy, his lit-tle dog-heart was so glad in him. I am quite sure it was the bright weather with all things growing and stirring, that made Tiptoe bark for joy.

The barking awoke Ba-by. Ba-by woke Ned, and Ned woke Grandpa, and they all went out with Tiptoe for a walk, and were so glad and gay they could have barked too.

SYBIL'S CARRIAGE.

I wish I knew the names of those first two dear lit-tle chil-dren who thought how to clasp their four hands in a way to make a seat to carry a child, and where they lived, and how long ago it was. Don't you? They must have been kind chil-dren.

One rainy day last week, when Ba-by Sybil was not well and cried and would not play, Jack and Jessie made a carriage with their hands, and Sybby rode all o-ver the house, and made calls and saw the sights, as hap-py as she could be. "Trot! Trot fast!" Sybby cried. Then her span went fast. "Whoa! Slow, slow!" called the lady in the coach. Then her horses walked. This was Sybil's favorite play.

THREE MARINERS

By M.F.B.

In the happy days of long ago Three mariners went to sea On a home made raft so staunch and firm Cut from a cedar tree.

The waves flowed high to their own backdoor, They flowed to the garden gate; Early the mariners went to sea And they stayed till it was late.

Three mariners came home from sea Each with a cold in his head; They were given a dose of catnip tea, Whipped and sent to bed.