THE RURAL HEW-YORKER. 
AUG 43 
£ox t\)C goiW0. 
WHO KILLED THE BIRD? 
Who killed the Chippie? 
See where It lies, 
The light, goue out 
Of its bright quick eyes; 
This tiny creature, bo soft and brown, 
Here on the dead leaves fallen down. 
But an hour ago 
It felt the sun. 
Yet now Is Its happy 
Living done— 
Born In a nest aud made to be, 
Not Boarer nor singer, yet blithe and free. 
No human eye, 
Perchance, may miss 
From numbf rlesB flocks 
A mite like this; 
Yet with It something has gone which had 
In Its way made bough aud sunshine glad. 
Who killed the Chippie? 
I think 1 know; 
This way from school 
The children go. 
And I saw a boy a pebble sling, 
And now I flnd this poor dead thing. 
He liked perhaps 
To prove his skill, 
Nor thought how dreadful 
It Is to kill; 
And though he aimed at It after all, 
Was sad at heart when he saw It fall. 
I am almost sure 
If he heard me say, 
"Who was It killed 
A bird to day?" 
He would wish this cruel deed uudone, 
And blush to own himself the one. 
—Wide Awake. 
Ice is a great comfort in hot weather. 
Food can be kept so much better by its nse, 
and there are various kinds of cold food that 
add greatly to the comfort this hot weather. 
With a good cold spring one can got along 
pretty well without ice, but most of us have 
no springs. Ice is sold now in places where 
it never used to bo. Many butchers vrho 
drive wagons about the country carry large 
blocks of ice and sell it as they would meat. 
At the South, before the war, ice was a great 
luxury. Many people never knew what it 
was. Now it is very common. The drug 
stores soil great quantities of it. It is used 
mostly for ice water. People stop in and buy 
it on their way home. The seller chops oil a 
little square piece of ice and ties a stout string 
around it. The purchaser takes the string in 
his hand, and off he goes. 
Mucn of the ice used at the South comes 
from Lake Superior. It is carried in cars 
built like an ice house, with double walls aud 
sawdust packed between them. It Is unload¬ 
ed during the night. To unpack it during the 
heat of the day would melt lip all the profits. 
Some ice is made at the South in ice machines. 
These ice machines are very costly. Tboy 
have to tie very strong, and they require 
machinery to run them. So they can only be 
used by those who have considerable money. 
Most of us have to let Nature do our freezing 
for us. We usually have enough cold weu'her 
in this part of the country. I have helped 
handle an ice ci op and know there is very little 
fuu about it. Still it pays very well whether 
you sell it or use it. Some people are so far 
from ponds or lakes that it does not pay to 
haul ice. They have to freeze it at home. To do 
this, they have some deep cast-iron puns made. 
These are put. out of doors on a cold day, uud 
water is poured into them from time to time. 
This water freezes slowly, layer by layer, 
until the pan is filled with a solid block of ice. 
Then when Lot- water is poured on the outside 
of the pan, the lump of ice is easily turned 
out aud packed into the ice house. This is a 
slow way of making ice, but it is pretty sure, 
aud you know just what your ice is made of. 
Some people make ice water lost longer 
than others do. They know how to handle it. 
With proper handling a small piece of ice 
will keep a large pitcher of water cold tor a 
long time, it pays to make a jacket to fit 
the pitcher or pail in which the water is kept. 
Such a jacket should be made ubout as thick 
as a quilt. It will pay to use one whenever 
you have Ice. I discovered u way to keep 
water cool while I was ut college. My chum 
and 1 divided up the *' housework.” lie was 
to sweep out the room and muke the bed while 
I had to bring up the water. The water came 
from a pump in front of the building. Home 
hot summer nights we would drink u great 
deal, and it kept me busy to provide cool 
water. I got the biggest pitcher I could find 
and made a jacket out of an old blanket. 
This was made so it would slip down over the 
pitcher. I hud to break off the handle to 
make it fit. With that jacket, well damp¬ 
ened, on the outside of the pitcher, the water 
would keep cool enough for anybody. 
American boys have reason to be thankful 
that they don’t live in Europe. In countries 
like Germany und France all men have to be 
soldiers for a number of years. Every young 
man has to go away from home and drill and 
learn how to fight. That is poor business. I 
am glnd there is no need of it in this coun¬ 
try. War is bad. For my part I should be 
willing to stand a great deal before I fought, 
but if 1 should fight I should want to settle 
the matter so it would stay settled for good. 
That is the kind of soldiers we want our 
American citizens to make, as I look at it. 
Dear Uncle Mark : I wish to tell a little 
story that will, I think, interest the Cousins. 
It is an old Irish story and has been handed 
down in otu’ family from the time of my 
great-grand father. Whether he was the au¬ 
thor of it or not I cannot say; but, be that as 
it may, 1 never met any one who had heard 
it, so know that it will be new to my little 
readers. It is about 
the little red hen. 
Once upon a time there lived a Mouse, a 
Louse and a little lied Hen altogether iu a 
house. Times were very hard and they often 
had nothing to eat. One day, after haviug 
goue supperless to bed the night before, the 
little Red Hen .mid : 
“If I go to the fields and hunt some corn 
will you take it to the mill and get it 
ground f" 
“ No, I won’t,” said the Mouse. 
“No, I wou’t,” said the Louse. 
“ Then 7 won't," said the little Red Hen. 
“ Well, if 1 go to the Held, hunt some corn, 
take it to the mill and get it ground, will you 
make the cakes when 1 bring it home?” said 
the little Red Hen. 
“ No, I won’t!” said the Mouse. 
“ No, I won’t!” said the Louse. 
“ Then I wou’t!” said the little Red Hen. 
“ Well, if I go to the field aud get some corn, 
take it to the mil) and get it ground, bring it 
home and make some cakes, will you eat 
them?” said the little Red Hen. 
“ Yes, I will!” said the Mouse. 
“ Yes, I will!”said the Louse. 
“ Of course 1 will!” said the little Red Hen. 
So off she went to the fields. She got some 
corn, and, after a long journey, took it to the 
mill, got it ground and brought it home. She 
then sot about to make the porridge aud pan¬ 
cakes while the Louse and the Mouse looked on. 
The fire burned brightly; the porridge began 
to boil, the cakes began to fry, and the Mouse, 
the Louse and the little Redllen looked forward 
to the dinner with a great deal of pleasure. 
“ Hark 1 I hear a noise,” said the Mouse. 
“ Hark ! I hear a noise,” said the Louse. 
“ Hark ! I hear a noise,” said the little Red 
Hen. 
“ Oh, the Fox is coming,” said the Mouse. 
“ Oh, the Fox is coming,” said the Louse. 
“ Ob, the Fox is coming,” said the little Red 
hen. 
“ What shall we do ?” cried the Mouse. 
“ What shall we do f” cried the Louse. 
“ What shall we do?” cried the little Red Hen. 
" I’ll creep lu my hole,” said the Mouse. 
“ I’ll crawl in my blanket,” said the Louse. 
“And I’ll fly up on the collar beam,” said 
the little Red lieu. 
So the Mouse went in its hole, the Louse 
crawled in its blanket, and the little Red Hen 
(lew upon the collar beam. 
In a few minutes a loud noise was heard at 
the door and in walked the Fox. 
“Ho, hoi Nobody home to-day? My! I 
smell porridge—and pancakes! Won’t I have 
a feast!” and he began to rub his stomach iu 
expectation of the dinner iu store for him. 
Without loss of time he helped himself to 
the porridge and cakes and ate and ate till he 
finished it all. But his enjoyment did not last 
long, for he bad eaten too much, aud his glut¬ 
tony was rewarded, as gluttony invariably is 
by terrible pain aud distress iu his stomach. 
He groaned, and finally iu his agony threw 
himself on the floor and began to roll. The 
sight was so strange and his groans so loud 
that the little Red Hen begun to luugh, und, 
forgetting the danger, laughed out loud. Ttio 
Fox looked around aud spied her on the col¬ 
lar beam. 
“Ho-ho!” bo cried, “so you are home to¬ 
day 1 Won’t you come down and scratch my 
back?” 
“Oh, no,” said the little Red Hen, “I’m afraid 
you’d hurt me!” 
“No, I’d not harm a feather of ye—won’t 
you come aud scratch my back f” agaiu asked 
the Fox. 
But the little Red Hen kept refusing. 
Htill the Fox coaxed, and as she thought he 
wus sick, the little Red Hen kept getting 
nearer, until finally she began to scratch his 
back, down by his tail, 
“A little higher, my dear,” said the Fox. 
“Ah! I’m afraid you’ll catch me,” said 
the little Red Hen. 
“I wouldn’t harm a feather of ye,” said the 
Fox. “Just a little higher.” 
Bo he kept ou coaxing, aud the little Red 
Hen kept ou scratching higher, till she was up 
ou his shoulder. Then the Fox suddenly 
grabbed her with his paw and put her in his 
bag. 
“Now, my lady,” he said “I’ve got you.” 
Won’t you make a fine pot-pie for my Grand¬ 
mother 1” 
The little Red Heu was very much fright¬ 
ened, and now that it was too late regretted 
her folly; regretted that she was unable to 
hold her silly little tongue, when silence 
meant every thing; but she knew, alas! that 
regrets were vain. 
Meanwhile the Mouse and the Louse lay still 
as death. They thought they had seen the last 
of the little Red Hen, and now began to appre¬ 
ciate her value—for had she not provided for 
them time and again! 
The Fox shouldered his burdeu uiul started 
for home. When he had gone along the high¬ 
way, for some distance, he heard the hunter’s 
hounds on the chase. He tried to run, but the 
weight of the bag prevented him from mak¬ 
ing much progress. Becoming very much 
frightened he exclaimed: 
“What shall 1 do! Oh, what shall 1 do!” 
“ Set me down by the roadside,” said the 
little Red.IIen, “and you go hide in the thicket 
till.the hounds get by.” 
“ A good idea,” said the Fox, “aud no soon¬ 
er said than done.” 
As soon as the little Red Hen felt the Fox set 
her down on the ground, she drew her scis¬ 
sors, needle aud thread (which she always car¬ 
ried) from her pocket; she cut a hole in the 
bag, crawled out, put several large stones in 
the hag, sewed the opening up and flew up in 
the tree to watch and wait. The hounds 
came dashing by, burking and making a great 
clatter, for they knew they were off to the 
hunt. After they had gone and everything 
became quiet, the Fox crept stealthily forth 
from his hiding place. After becoming fully 
satisfied that there was no danger, he picked 
up his bag aud started ou his journey. 
“ Oh, my lady, how heavy you are! Won’t 
you make a nice pot-pie for my Grand¬ 
mother 1” 
The little Red Hen in the tree close by 
laughed again, but not out loud this time. 
Bbe had learned her lesson too well to betray 
herself a second time. 
Ou trudged the Fox aud on flew the Hen 
from tree to tree, keeping the Fox in sight. 
Finally he reached his home, tired aud weary 
with the weight of bis burden. 
“Grandmother,” ho called, “I’ve the pret¬ 
tiest little Redllen you ever saw, to make us a 
pot-pie for supper. You go and hang the pot 
w hile I climb up on the roof aud throw her 
down the chimney.” 
The old grandmother, well pleased at the 
news, went into the hut, while the Fox climbed 
to the roof with the bag. Ho untied the 
string carefully, pushed the mouth of the 
sack well down the chimney hole (for ho 
feared bis precious Hen would fly away), and, 
taking the bag by the corners of the bottom, 
shook the Heu, as he supposed, into the boil¬ 
ing water below'. With a satisfied smile he 
began to descend. But whut hud happened 
below < The old grandmother, haviug the pot 
of boiling water ready, stood iu front of the 
fire-place waiting. 
Crash, crash, crash, came the stones! They 
struck the pot, splitting it in pieces, sending 
the scalding water ull over her shins. She 
cried in rage and fury, and, thinking the Fox 
had played a trick on her, grasped the tongs, 
and, suffering as she was, waited for him. 
He came down, blithely calling to know what 
she thought of his Red Hen. Angered more 
than ever at this she sprang upon him aud 
choked Him to death with the tongs Her 
burns were so severe that she died from them, 
aud so the two Foxes, the terror of that local¬ 
ity, both were dead. 
The little Red Hen hastened home to the 
Mouse and the Louse to tell them the good 
news. Bhe found them very despondent, for 
they thought that she was dead. They were 
delighted to hour that the Foxes were dead. 
They lived happily ever after—the Mouse, the 
Louse, aud the little Red Hen. 
Truly yours, 
DOHA HAHVKY. 
Philadelphia, Pa. 
«♦» — 
Deak Uncle Make: I am a little orphan 
girl nine years of age. I do not know w’here 
I was born, as my parents moved to Texas 
when I was a baby, und both died when I was 
four years old; but I have a nice homo, and 
am quite happy. 1 went to school last Octo¬ 
ber for the first time, and am now nearly 
through the Third Reader. 1 road the letters 
to the Cousius, and want to be a Cousin too, 
but I cau’t write very well yet. I shall watch 
every Ru&AL for my name, to see if you have 
adopted me, and will then try and write my 
next letter better. 1 planted some water¬ 
melons, but I always mistake and pull them 
too green. fanny Jordan. 
Denison, Texas. 
[Now, you sec, you are one of my little girls, 
and I shall expect that letter. I hope you 
will be a good girl and make a good wo¬ 
man.—u. M.] 
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