1897. 



THE AMERICAN BEE KEEPER. 



89 



^ UNSPOKEN. 



When you owe a fellow money. 

 It is always kind of funny 

 H&w you'd just a little rather that you didn't 

 chance to meet. 

 Of course you mean to pay it, 

 And you know ho wouldn't say it 

 If he even got to thinking you a trifle indis- 

 creet. 



You know he wouldn't bone yoa 

 For the temporary loan you 

 Unthinkingly asserted you would very prompt- 

 ly pay ; 

 But, though cordially you greet him. 

 It is true you never meet him, 

 Jut you wonder if he's thinking of the things 

 he doesn't say. 



Though you grasp his hand with ardor. 

 Though you grip it hard and harder, 

 You'll still be sadly conscious of a something 

 in between. 

 Of a something intervening, 

 Of the whi' h you guefss the meaning. 

 For you know it's but the spirit of the cash he 

 hasn't seen. 



--Chicago Journal. 



MY LUCKY FIND. 



I was almost in despair. 



Wliat a lot of truuble I have brought 

 on myself for my good nature! Police 

 investigations and reports, annoyance, 

 chagrin, perhaps, at the outcome. Yes, 

 it was enough to make a man swear! 



And the cause of it all was Baby 

 Mouse, hapless Baby Mouse! But, be- 

 fore you, dear reader, will understand 

 why Baby Mouse shoiild be to blame you 

 will want to know who he is. It's a 

 strange story, and yet sweet and tender 

 withal. And it ends well — that's its 

 best part. 



Three months ago I was coming home 

 with the evening shades. It v/as bitter 

 cold, and I rejoiced in anticipation of 

 my cozy, warm home and the simple, 

 dainty meal which my old housekeeper, 

 Johanna, knew how to prepare so well. 

 I was lost in just such comfortable 

 bachelor reverie, when I descended from 

 the L road to wend my way toward my 

 little Washington Heights home. I 

 walked rapidly and soon reached there. 

 Opening the iron gate that led into the 

 tiny garden patch in front of the house, 

 I saw a small package lying on the fro- 

 zen snow. 



"A present from somebody," I said 



half aloud, stooped and picked up my 

 find. My hands, a bit numb with cold, 

 despite my fleece lined gloves, had 

 scarcely grasped the bundle when it be- 

 gan to kick and squirm. Nor was that 

 all. It raised such lusty howls that my 

 neighbors' windows flew up, and they 

 stuck out their heads to see what it 

 meant. 



It would have done me good to see my 

 face just then in a convenient mirror. 



All the nursery tales of crybabies and 

 bewitched castaways came to my mind 

 with a rush. I felt like depositing the 

 lively packet in the place where I had 

 found it, but that would have been 

 cruel. 



Aye, it would have been worse than 

 murder to leave such a little mite out 

 in the open with the thermometer at 10 

 above zero. I had no desire to make the 

 acquaintance of the state attorney. 



But, better than all, great pity swelled 

 my heart for the unfortunate creature 

 whom loveliness had cast away, and as 

 fast as I could run with my burden I 

 ran into the house. Johanna met me in 

 the door. 



"See what I have brought you, " I 

 said, with a laugh. 



The good woman gazed with horror 

 on the squirming, shaking babe and held 

 out her hands. 



"Doctor, what does it mean?" she 

 gasped. 



"It means, Johanna, that for the next 

 few days you are going to bathe and 

 feed and fondle this little waif, just as 

 you did me once upon a time. " 



And then I told her the story of how 

 I had found Baby Mouse. 



In the lamplight I examined the little 

 foundling, and Johanna, too, looked 

 him over with critical eyes. He was a 

 jolly little young.ster, 8 months old per- 

 haps, with chubby face, eyes as blue as 

 a summer sky and lips that soon took 

 on cherry hue, as their blue, jDinched 

 look died away in the genial warmth of 

 the room and Johanna's embraces that 

 alternated with mine. 



Johanna brought out fresh linen, ar- 

 ranged a bed and bathed and washed 

 the foundling. Tucking him comforta- 

 bly away in an improvised crib, she 

 gave him a bottle filled with milk, and, 

 when he had appeased his hunger, he 

 fell into a peaceful slumber. I kissed 



