216 
amerioa:^ 7\geioultueist. 
[May, 
Kittie’s Lesson. 
“ Pease Kittie, turn an pay wis Daisy !”—It was 
a sweet, pathetic little voice; but Kittie, comfort¬ 
ably reclining on a couch, improvised from a 
blanket ami pillow, never glanced from her book to 
the coaxing little petitioner, as she answered dream¬ 
ily, “Pretty soon, don’t tease!”—“Tan I have 
your beads to string?”—“ No, you would lose 
them.”—“ Den tan I pay wis the dollies ?” her 
chubby hand tenderly smoothing two china ladies 
in gorgeous pink and blue gowns that were repos¬ 
ing on the blanket beside the absorbed reader, who 
had spent many a Saturday afternoon upon their 
wardrobes.—“ No, indeed, you would ruin their 
clothes,” and Kittie angrily threw one arm over 
Angelina, the puppet in pink. “Do run away, 
Daisy, till I finish this story. W’hat a bother you 
are !”—“ But mamma told you to amoose me, 
and I isn’t a bozzer,” sobbed the sad-hearted 
child as she trotted sadly off to investigate a 
mouse hole with an antiquated tooth-brush. 
It was very pleasant in the old attic, with the 
perfume of fruit blossoms wafting through the 
open windows ; but Kittie Hill moved uneasily and 
brushed back her hair with an impatient gesture, 
as her mother’s parting w'ords came to her mind. 
“ Now, daughter, I shall trust you to take good 
care of Daisy, while I am away; and try and 
amuse and make her happy.” But Kittie tvas lan¬ 
guid, and her story book was so interesting ! She 
would go in a minute, but first must j ust see how the 
story would come out, and so read on regardless of 
the little sister who was now' unu-sually quiet.— 
The flies buzzed drowsily, the dolls stared unblink- 
ingly at the spiders overhead, and still Kittie never 
moved until tlirough with the book, when she start¬ 
ed to her feet, with the uncomfortable sensation of 
having forgotten her charge completely.—But 
where was Daisy? Not in the hammock or the 
swing, or in the play-house, behind the timber, for 
Kittie hunted everywhere. She could not have 
gone down stairs as she could not lift the trap 
door. The frightened girl noticed the absence of 
two large w’ings, taken from an eagle their father 
had shot, which usually adorned the walls. Hardly 
knowing what she did, Kittie ran to the window 
which opened upon a sharply sloping roof, and al¬ 
most fainted at the sight of Daisy with the huge 
wings fastened to her shoulders balancing on the 
edge of the roof. With rare presence of mind she 
stifled a cry ; but the child saw her, and called gai¬ 
ly, “See Kittie, Daisy not to be a bozzer any more ! 
She doin’ to fly away to heaven,” at the same time 
holding out her short skirts, and dancing on her 
tip-toes.—With great effort Kittie restrained her 
voice, realizing that the least start might indeed 
send the little sister to heaven, but she said gently, 
“ Oh ! darling, come back ; you shall play with 
Angelina and Seraphina all the afternoon.”— 
“ Weally !” and the dimpled face beamed with 
smiles, “ Den I dess I’ll not fly till anozzer day ; 
but it’s dreadful slippery here.”—“ Wait till I 
come to you.”—But it was only by means of a 
stout rope that Kittie succeeded in getting the 
child safely within the window. That evening the 
mother clasped her baby tightly as she listened to 
Kittie’s penitent tale of the proposed flight. For 
the older sister it was a lesson never to be forgotten. 
An Amateur May-Party. 
ET AGNES (CARR) SAGE. 
Brightly shone the sun, and sweetly sang the 
birds, and the crisp white muslins, and blue 
and pink ribbons laid out on the bed, looked fresh 
and pretty, as Maud Dayton brushed out her 
straight bangs, and Nancy her curly ones. It was 
a warm spring day, so unusual on the first of May, 
and they were dressing for the May-day fete, given 
to the Sunday-School by kind Miss Dorothy Felter, 
in the beautiful grounds around her old fashioned 
white house, on the bank of the river.—“Tliere 
is to be a throne built for the queen !” said Maud. 
—“And a Maj'-pole !” said Nancy ; “ pink, white, 
and brown ice-cream “gold and silver mottoes 
with fancy caps in them !” “ loads and loads of bis¬ 
cuits and cake“croquet and tennis on the lawn !” 
—Thus the happy maidens went on recounting the 
anticipated delights, to the wondering ears of 
little Dolly and Dot, wdio stood by listening with 
rapt attention.—“I wish the little ones could go 
too,” said Nancy, giving chubby Dot a hug.— 
“They would only be in the way,” responded 
Maud, “ and we couldn’t take care of them.” 
“ I wonder what mo.ther will do all day without 
us, the house all in confusion, and she busy pack¬ 
ing up—two cart-loads gone already.”—The Day¬ 
ton’s were moving to a new home nearer the vil¬ 
lage.—“ I hep mamma !” lisped Dolly, just as Mrs. 
Dayton entered the room with a troubled face, and 
said, “Maud, Nancy,” I am so sorry to disappoint 
you, but one of you will have to stay home to¬ 
day.”—A doleful “ oh, why ?” echoed through the 
chamber, and two dismayed girls stood aghast.— 
“I find I must go over and see to things at the new 
house; the men have already broken my little sew¬ 
ing chair all to pieces.”—“ What a shame I” cried 
Maud.—“ And some one must stay with Dolly and 
Dot. I think it better be you, Maud, as Nancy re¬ 
mained home from the fair last week ”—“ O, 
dear! I can’t,’ exclaimed Maud, “why I have 
thought of nothing but this May-party for a month, 
and the girls say I am almost sure to be chosen 
Queen.”—“But Nancy has anticipated it as much 
as you,” while Dolly hummed, 
“ Im to be Queen of the May, mother, 
I’m to be Queen of the May.” 
“ Nobody would select a red-headed Queen,” 
said -Maud, glancing at her sister’s ruddy locks. 
“Miss Felter’s artist nephew from the city is here, 
and if he likes the tableau, she says he may put us 
all in a great picture. You would like to see me 
painted as the May Queen, wouldn’t you mother?” 
—“I am not very anxious,” but Mrs. Dayton could 
not refrain from smiling at her daughter’s earnest¬ 
ness.—“ Couldn’t I take the children over to grand¬ 
ma’s ?” asked Nancy.—“ No, dear ; a note from her 
says she is in her room with another attack of 
rheumatism.’’—“Then perhaps I had better staj',” 
sighed Nancy.”—“Settle it between you,” said 
Mrs. Dayton and hurried away. “ —I don’t want to 
be selfish, and it’s my turn,” said Maud with a sob, 
as she began slowly to take off her pink ribbons. 
—“ No, indeed,” cried Nancy. “lam the one to 
stay. As you say, no one would think of me and 
my red head for Queen ; and I shall be much hap¬ 
pier thinking you are wearing the prettj' crown.”— 
But she wiped away a tear, as she had often done 
before, over her bright locks which everyone seem¬ 
ed to consider so ugly.—“ Oh, Nancy, do yon mean 
it! you are a darling,” said Maud, throwing ho 
arms around her neck. “ And if you will take my 
place to-day, you may go everywhere else all sum¬ 
mer.”—“ Of course I will.”—So, ten minutes later, 
Maud went off beaming to the fete, leaving Nancy 
sitting rather disconsolate on the vine-covered 
porch.—“Poor Nanny, ’tould’nt do to party,” 
chirped Dot, slipping her fat little hand into her 
sister’s. “Dot so solly.”—“Never mind, we’ll 
have a May-party,” said Nancy, springing up cheer¬ 
fully, for she was a light-hearted little creature. 
“ We’ll take our lunch up to the grove.”—This 
delighted the ‘ youngsters,’ who shouted with glee, 
and quietly robbed the garden of every bud and 
blossom, that had ventured out so early in the sea¬ 
son ; while Nancy ran across the way and invited 
Dan, Molly, and Pete Berry; three poor little chil¬ 
dren, who rarely had any good times, and had never 
been to a party in their lives. “It will be much better 
than sulking in the house all day,” she thought.—It 
was a thousand times better, and a very happy lit¬ 
tle procession half an hour later wetided its W'ay 
with many a hop, skip, and a jump, to the shady 
green wood back of the farm.—Nancy, still wear¬ 
ing her white dress and blue sash ; Dan making 
quite a gallant looking prince, in a scarlet cape 
I with along white feather in his ragged straw hat; 
I Dolly and Dot as maids of honor, bearing the flow¬ 
ers ; and Molly and sturdy little Peter straggling 
on behind with the basket of lunch hastily packed. 
“ Here is the very spot,” called Nancy, at a pic¬ 
turesque little dell, slnaded by grand old forest 
trees, with a mossy mound in the center.—It was a 
new experience to the little Berrys, and they were 
wild with delight.—“I think elves and brownies 
must live here,” said Nancy, as they spread the 
cloth on the soft grass. “ I wish one would ap¬ 
pear, and grant me a wish.”—“ What would it 
be ?” asked Molly, looking longingly at the pile of 
sandwiches.—“ A nice new locking-chair for 
mother. Her’s was broken to-day, and she can’t 
afford to buy another now. She'll miss it so much. 
But lunch is ready, blow your horn Peter, and call 
the May fairies together.”'—Lustily Peter tooted on 
TAKING IT EASY. 
I>raivn and Engraved for the American Agriculturist. 
