Title: Dew Drops, Vol. 37, No. 34, August 23, 1914
Author: Various
Language: English
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23, 1914***


DEW DROPS

VOL. 37, No. 34. Weekly

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, Illinois

David C. Cook, Jr., Managing Editor
Mabelle M. Carbaugh, Assistant Editor

August 23, 1914



Billikens' Surprise

By HELEN HAWLEY


Gilbert was a little boy who was going to have the first suit of
clothes, that were not homemade. Wasn't that an event! Gilbert thought
so. He was going to the city with father and mother to be fitted.

Mr. Haywood said to his wife. "You'd better take the boy and go with me
as far as Branton. It's the best place I know of, for fitting out little
fellows like him. Maybe I can stop over long enough to help you. I'll
look up the time-table."

That's the way it happened that Gilbert and his mother came back to
their home at midnight. For this story isn't about the hours in the
city, it's about the reaching home so very late. Maybe you'll like to
know, though, that the new clothes were all right, and Gilbert was a
very happy though a very sleepy boy by midnight.

But he was wide-awake enough when the cab drew up at their own door, and
he heard his mother exclaim. "Why, the house is lighted! There's a
bright light in the living room, and in the dining room too!" Mrs.
Haywood had paid the driver and he whirled the cab away before she
thought. "I do wish I'd asked him to stay, until we could see what it
means."

Gilbert was eager to press forward, but his mother put him behind her.
She fully expected to see burglars searching for silver, or taking money
from the desk.

But the sight which actually greeted her made her drop into a chair and
laugh. And Gilbert! He threw up his cap, almost shouting. "That's great,
isn't it, mother? Wasn't it cute of Billikens to light up for us to get
in?"

Now Billikens was a beautiful white Persian kitten, which had come to
Gilbert on his last birthday, and as full of mischief as a kitten could
be. Billikens sat perched on the back of an easy-chair under one of the
lights, looking for all the world as if he tried to say, "I did it, for
sure."

[Illustration: Billikens sat perched on the back of an easy-chair.]

It was this way: Gilbert had often held Billikens up to play with the
electric light cords, and once when the kitten had pulled just right,
the light flashed out. Afterward, it became a kind of game to take him
round to the brackets, and let him light up.

"I'm afraid we'll have to stop his doing it," Gilbert's mother said. "I
doubt if you can teach a cat that what is done in play mustn't be done
in earnest."

"That's too bad," Gilbert was quite grieved. "It's such fun to see him
put on the lights. He almost laughs, himself. We could shut him up if we
were away, mother dear."

"Well, perhaps."

Gilbert was a thoughtful little chap. Now he said, "I learned, didn't I,
mother? Grandfather liked to have me pull his whiskers when he was
awake, but once I pulled them when he was taking a nap, and he didn't
like it one bit. I never did it after that."

[Illustration: Billikens]



DILLY AND HER DOUBLE-FACED DOLLY.


"I think you ought to invite Dilly to your party, Mildred," said Mrs.
Fuller. "She lives so near us, and you've invited every other little
girl on the street."

"Why," said Mildred, "she'd be sure to bring that dreadful doll that she
loves so much. Some of the girls wouldn't come if she were invited. You
said, mamma, I might ask just whom I pleased."

Mrs. Fuller said nothing more, and the dainty notes of invitation flew
here and there, but none stopped at Dilly's door. Dilly hardly expected
an invitation, but there were some bitter tears which fell down on
Arabella's face.

Arabella was the name of one side of her doll. The doll was a
crooked-neck squash with a stick for its body. It had two faces--one on
each side of its head, and ink lines drawn round some of the yellow
warts, made very prominent features.

This doll was the comfort of Dilly's life. The yellow noses were worn
quite flat with her kisses, and she never had a trouble which was not
poured into the two sympathizing ears, owned in common by Arabella and
Angelina.

The afternoon of the party came, and Dilly, with her doll, watched the
gay little folks gather on the lawn in front of Mildred's home. She
soon became interested in their play, and quite forgot that she was not
one of them, in her excitement over a game of hide-and-seek. Presently
Mrs. Fuller called them for some pleasant surprise, and they all ran in,
leaving their dolls leaning against the piazza.

There was nothing more to see. Dilly was gathering up her doll, when
something made her spring up and cry out.

Rover, Johnny Cooper's dog, shot past her, barking loudly, his eyes
gleaming with mischief.

Rover was the terror of every little girl in the neighborhood. Johnny
sometimes teased his sisters by sending Rover after their dolls. Rover
liked the sport, and came to think that dolls were his natural prey.
Next to a big bone, there was nothing that delighted him so much as to
shake a doll to pieces. He had seen the long row of dainty little
figures, and was dashing towards them. Dilly ran after him, threatening
and coaxing, but he did not notice her. Then she waved her turkey-red
handkerchief, and screamed as loudly as she could, to attract someone's
attention. But no one came.

Dilly thought of just one thing she could do. A last kiss on Arabella's
face, and then--"Rover!"

The cry sounded so sharp and strange that Rover turned his head.
S-w-i-s-h! Right down at his side there swooped such a queer-looking
doll as Rover, with all his varied experience, had never seen. He made a
dash for it.

Dilly darted past him, and, gathering up the dolls, laid them in the
hall, and shut the door. Her apron was over her face when she went down
the walk, but a strange, crunching sound told her what had happened to
her doll.

Mildred found Dilly at home a few minutes later, folding away a little,
ragged doll's cap, and drenching it with tears.

Mildred put her arms around Dilly's neck. "Oh, Dilly," she said, "it was
so beautiful of you! Aunt Lou saw it all from the window. I'm so 'shamed
to think how I've treated you. Do you think you could forgive me? If you
could I'd love you all my life."

Dilly forgave her, and, all in her ragged dress, went home with Mildred.
Every little girl kissed her, and she stopped to tea.

Not long after, a beautiful doll came to Dilly. It was Mildred's gift,
and all the little girls who were at the party helped to dress it.

Dilly loves it dearly, and though it will never take the place of the
dear, double-faced doll, she is very happy, for Mildred is her loyal
friend.

--_Selected._



A good cure for discontent--count your blessings every day.



WHAT JENNY SHOWED JEAN.

BY ADELE E. THOMPSON.


It was a happy day for Jean when the cars started that were to take her
and Big Sister all the way to Grandpa's.

When they left the train it was just as she had thought it would be.
There was grandpa waiting to meet them, the ride through the green
fields behind Prince, the big white house with dear grandma waiting at
the door, Tobias the gray cat, the speckled hens; all her friends, for
grandpa had even opened the pasture gate and let Jenny, the pretty
Jersey cow, come on the lawn to welcome Jean.

And Jean! She had hardly taken off her hat before she ran out to see
them all. But Jenny was her especial favorite, because grandpa had
brought her up from a calf and she was so gentle that she had let Jean
take many a ride on her back. Jean had just given her a good hug when
grandpa came by leading Prince to pasture. "Please put me on her," she
begged.

"All right," he answered. "Take hold of the strap round her neck and
don't ride far."

"No, I won't. Jenny always stops for me to jump off when I want to."

But when grandpa came back there was no little girl, no Jersey cow
anywhere to be seen. Grandma and Big Sister had been so busy talking
that they had not missed her, now when they called there was no answer.
Where could Jean be?

But before anyone had time to be really frightened there was a patter of
feet and Jean herself came running.

"Oh, oh," she cried, her eyes shining, "what do you think? Just as soon
as I was on Jenny's back she started for the barn. And when we came
round by the barnyard she stopped and said 'Moo, moo,' an' then a little
calf--just like Jenny--that I hadn't seen 'cause it was lying down,
jumped up, an' came running to the gate an' put its head through. Jenny
put her head down an' kissed it, then she turned her head and looked at
me, an' I jumped right down off her back an' kissed it too. For I knew
it was Jenny's calf an' she had taken me out the first thing to show it
to me. Wasn't it nice of Jenny to want me to see her calf? an' grandpa,
can I name it?"

Grandpa said he thought it was very nice indeed, of Jenny to show Jean
her baby, and they had been waiting for her to come and name it.

"Oh, oh!" cried Jean again, "and I have a name all ready. It is Daisy."



VAIN WISHES.

BY HELEN I. CASTELLA.


     Sometimes I think I'd like to be
     A duck to splash in the pond so free:
     And then again I've pondered o'er
     The hen that clucks near the barnyard door.
     The guinea's life is freer than all,
     She wanders off, nor listens to call,
     But the pine cone chips that fall on me,
     Remind me of squirrels far up in the tree--
     The nuts they're gath'ring to store away
     'Gainst skies of winter's cold and grey.
     There's something else that skips so free
     Through the brush with hardly a glance at me;
     With his furry coat, he's quick as a wink,
     Would I be a rabbit? I stop and think.
     But between you and I--
     After all, what's the use
     In spending my time regretting?
     There's only one thing I'll turn into--
     A goose!
     If I waste many moments in fretting!



The Things in the Garden

By GERTRUDE WARNER


Rose and Marguerite were playing in the nursery when they heard a queer
bumping noise down in the back yard.

"What's that?" asked Rose, stopping to listen.

"That's Stubby, kicking his heels against the settee. He's awful cross
today," said Marguerite, and kept right on making the doll's bed. In a
second Rose had her head out of the window. There sat Stubby, kicking
his heels against the settee and looking dreadfully cross.

"Why, Stubby dear, what's the matter?" she called sweetly.

"Nuffin'," said Stubby.

"Why don't you play with the things in the garden?"

"What fings?"

"Wait a minute and we'll come down and show you," Rose said, drawing her
head in.

"How _can_ you play with that cross, _cross_ Stubby?" asked Marguerite.
"He isn't sick, and we've done everything to please him all day. He's
just plain cross. And if you play with him we can't finish arranging the
playhouse before five o'clock."

[Illustration: Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N.Y.]

"Mother said I might stay till six," said Rose gently, "and I've thought
of something to keep him busy. Come!"

Marguerite gave Rose a bear-hug and soon Stubby saw them coming across
the lawn. Rose stopped under the apple tree to look for green apples.

"Muvver says not eat green apples," shouted Stubby.

Rose held up a little one. "Come on," she called. "Find one the size of
that!"

Stubby became interested in spite of himself, and more so, as Rose began
picking thorns off the rosebush and sticking them into the apple for
eyes, nose and mouth.

Marguerite and Stubby began making one like Rose's.

"Now, find a stick and push it in for the body," said Rose.

Stubby rammed one in so hard that it came out at the top of his doll's
head. "That'll be good to stick a hat to," he said cheerfully.

"They look pretty thin," said Marguerite holding hers at arms length.

"But wait till they have clothes on," said Rose happily. "Hollyhocks are
fine for clothes."

So Stubby raced off for hollyhocks, picking the short stems off very
carefully; first the large, silver-white ones, then shell-pink ones and
last of all, the dark, velvety, red ones.

"Mine's going to be red," shouted Stubby, running back with his hands
full.

"Then take three, one for the waist and two for the ruffly skirt," said
Rose.

"I know what'll be good for a parasol," said Stubby, sitting down beside
Rose.

"What?" asked Rose.

Stubby pointed to the morning-glory vine climbing all over the arbor,
with its pink and violet blossoms rolled tightly up, _just_ like an
umbrella! Rose clapped her hands.

"Just the thing," she cried.

The children next made long braids of hair of striped grass, and
fastened them to the backs of the dolls' heads with thorns. Then they
bound broad sashes of satiny grass around the waists and used the flat
nasturtium leaves for sailor hats.

"Now we must begin a house for them to live in," proceeded Rose. "Pick
up little stones and make squares on the piazza floor for rooms."

Stubby soon made four rooms, leaving a door in each, with a hall down
the middle.

"We can have grape leaves for blankets on the beds, and rose-petals for
pillows, can't we?" said Stubby excitedly, "and a big, flat stone for a
table and little stones for chairs!--and more rose petals for chair
cushions!"

Marguerite was busily pinning a sweet-pea on her doll's head for a
bonnet, and Rose finished arranging an acorn cup full of tiny green
grapes for apples, before she replied.

"Stubby," she said at last, "you're a very clever boy."

She deftly cut a green apple in two as she spoke, and began hollowing
one half out with a sharp stick. "This will make a good set-bowl," she
said, getting very red in the face with so much digging. "Now, Stubby's
got the idea, we can go back and arrange the playhouse."

"Oh, I'd rather do this!" cried Marguerite. "We can arrange that
playhouse any rainy day."

"Well, if you want to, we'll keep on," said Rose, looking very happy,
and giving Stubby a bear-hug.

Stubby didn't usually like being hugged, but this time he hugged Rose
back, and said, "My doll's name is going to be Rose."



THE PRINCESSES AND THE WOOD-CUTTER'S DAUGHTER.

BY JANE WEST.


When the queen was riding in the forest she met the woodcutter's little
daughter, and she was so pleased with the child that she invited her to
visit at the palace. The child, Avis, came the next day, and she was
taken up to the royal nursery to play with the princesses.

Before long the children were arguing about what game they should play.
Then Rose, who was the eldest, remembered her duty to the visitor.

"What would you like to play, Avis?" she said.

"I'd like to play whatever the rest of you like," said Avis with her
bright smile.

After that the princesses were ashamed to argue about it. They agreed to
let Mignon, the smallest of them, choose. She chose Ring-around-a-rosy,
and they all played, and had a great deal of fun.

When the queen came in for a few minutes Avis remembered to draw up the
best chair, and place a footstool for her feet.

All day Avis was so sweet and good-natured that the princesses quite
hated to part with her. They said good-night, when she went, urging her
to come soon again.

"How does Avis learn to be polite?" Rose asked the queen that night.
"She is only a poor woodcutter's daughter, and lives in a weed cottage.
But she has better manners than we, who live in the palace."

"Why, my child, you have forgotten what politeness is. Mignon, my little
one, I just taught you yesterday, stand forth and tell your sisters."

So Mignonette put her hands behind her, and chanted:

     "Politeness is to do, and say
     The kindest thing, in the kindest way."

"There, children," said the queen, "you see how it is. Politeness comes
from a kind heart, and it makes a child lovely, and beloved, whether she
lives in the hut or the palace."



THE VALLEY OF GRUMP.

BY MARGARET COLTON.


     The Valley of Grump is a sad, sad place,
       And a dangerous pitfall, too,
     So easy it seems to slip into its depths--
       And some of the little folks do!
     Oh, I'm sorry for them when I witness their woe,
       Their faces all wrinkle and twist about so;
     And to their assistance I gladly would go--
       But I dread the sad Valley of Grump, my dears,
       I dread the sad Valley of Grump!

     The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump;
       The wind always blows from the east;
     The air, I have noticed, is constantly chill,
       And never warms up in the least.
     As every one weeps, there are tears all the day;
       And when people are cross, they have little to say;
     And when faces are ugly, they look t'other way--
       So beware of the Valley of Grump, my dears,
       Beware of the Valley of Grump!

[Illustration: The sun never shines in the Valley of Grump]

     Yet sometimes they speak in the Valley of Grump,
       And their language, I'm told, is a whine--
     You may have been troubled by sound of that speech,
       But I hope that fate won't be mine.
     And sometimes, from down in the depths of the vale,
     The whine rises up in a terrible wail;
     And the people who hear are like to turn pale,
       And flee from the Valley of Grump, my dears,
       Far away from the Valley of Grump!

     There the tears ever falling are turned into fog
       That hangs o'er the vale damp and chill,
     And in it the little folks shiver and shake
       Till they really are well-nigh ill!
     So I long to cry out to the sad little crew,
      "Come up to the sunshine, you grumpy ones, do!
     Your tears are all needless, if only you knew--
       Come out of the Valley of Grump, poor dears,
     Come out of the Valley of Grump!"



THE "BITER'S" WAGON.

By Mary E.Q. Brush.


I am sorry to say that little Chalmers Ashton was afraid of things! And
you know there was really nothing to be afraid of, for he lived in a
safe, comfortable house in the best part of town, and there were father
and mother and grandpa and Uncle James, Tilly the maid and Billy the
hired man to look after him--to say nothing of Mr. O'Brien, the burly
policeman in blue coat and brass buttons, who used to stroll up and down
the street after nightfall.

But Chalmers used to "imagine things"--"think them up in his mind." I
can't begin to tell you just what they were--only some were like snakes
and some had horns and sharp teeth and glaring eyes and they growled
like everything.

Chalmers made up a name for them; he called them "The Biters." Awful
silly wasn't it, to be afraid of made-up things?

One day an animal show came to the town. For one whole day big white
tents were in the meadow at the rear of the orchard which belonged to
Chalmers' father, and, what with the rumbling red and yellow wagons, the
noise and confusion, the shouting of the men, the roaring of the lions
and howling and snarling of the other animals--well, really, it was
almost like being next door to a jungle! And it was after midnight
before everything was packed up and put on board the long train of cars.

Now the show people left one of their smaller wagons behind them; it was
a very old one and something was the matter with it so that they didn't
think it worth while repairing. So the next morning, there it stood near
the elm tree out in the meadow. Then, what do you suppose? Well, it was
a very foolish thing to do, but Chalmers got it into his head that some
of the animals had been left in that wagon!

"I dare say they are 'Biters,' and maybe, sometime if I go near them,
they'll pounce out and grab me!" the little boy said to himself, and not
a day passed that he didn't cast scared glances toward the tattered
cover of the wagon. Of course there were times when he felt quite brave
and actually wanted to peep into the wagon; more than once he had
visions of what a delightful time he might have with it, making believe
it was a street car, or playing with it as an omnibus--but he never
mustered up enough courage to do this.

One day as he came home from school he happened to glance at the wagon
and his heart seemed to jump up into his throat. Surely there was
something stirring inside that wagon; he saw the canvas cover bulge
out--no, it wasn't the wind fluttering it! Besides he was positive that
he heard queer noises inside.

"It's the 'Biters'--I know it is;" he gasped.

At first he was tempted to run right into the house, then something
inside of him seemed to say, "Don't be such a coward, Chalmers! Don't
you remember what the teacher told you today about General Washington
and other brave men?"

So Chalmers stood still a minute.

"I'll not be a coward! Besides, there's mother sitting and sewing on the
side porch."

So Chalmers climbed over into the meadow and went toward the wagon. When
he got to the rear of it and peeped in, what do you think he heard and
saw? Oh, such a lot of chuckles and giggles, and there, seated in a row
were his cousins--plump little Marjory, laughing Sharley and cute little
Jim!

[Illustration: There seated in a row were his cousins!]

"We've come to spend the day with you and we thought we'd hide and
surprise you!" cried Sharley, while Marjory added. "Oh, isn't this wagon
the jolliest old place to play in! You must have lots of fun with it."

"Well, I'm going to have some fun with it now," Chalmers replied as he
climbed up to take a seat beside her.



+---------------+
|               |
| Knowledge Box |
|               |
+---------------+

Ruth's Pretty Dress.


"My dress _is so pretty_," said Ruth, smoothing its soft fold and
patting her own curls as she looked at her pretty reflection in the big
mirror. "Yes," said the mother, "your dress _is_ pretty, dear, and let
mother tell you something about how many helped to make your dress.

"First, a little brown seed baby was put into the ground and it grew up
to be a plant with flowers on it. Then the flowers dropped off and
little green pods came in their places. These pods made a nice little
house for the seed babies, but when the little seeds got ripe they burst
their house open and it was all full of soft, white cotton. Some little
boys and girls picked the cotton out, and then some men put it in a
machine and took the seed all out of the soft white stuff, and then it
went to another big house and was made into thread, and then into a
beautiful piece of cloth, and mother and auntie made your pretty dress
out of the seed babies' cotton blanket. Isn't it nice that everybody
helps Ruthie girl to have pretty things."

--_Written for Dew Drops by Francis McKinnon Morton._



OUR LESSON.--For August 23.

       *       *       *       *       *

PREPARED BY MARGUERITE COOK.

       *       *       *       *       *

Title.--The Wedding Feast.--Matt. 22:1-14.

Golden Text.--O Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children
together, even as a hen gathereth her own brood under her wings!--Luke
13:34.

_Golden Text for Beginners._--_We love him, because he first loved
us._--1 John 4:19.

Truth.--The great love of Jesus is for even those who would harm him.

1. Jesus told a parable about the kingdom of heaven.

[Illustration]

2. He said it is like a king who made a marriage feast for his son.

3. When the feast was ready he sent messengers to ask his guests to come
to the feast.

[Illustration]

4. Some did not listen to the invitation, and others went about their
work.

[Illustration]

5. Still others abused the king's servants, and killed them.

[Illustration]

6. The king sent out his army to punish the murderers.

7. The king then sent his servants out into the streets to invite
whoever could be found to come to the feast.

8. They brought in the poor and rich, the good and bad.

[Illustration]

9. The king went in to the feast to see his guests.

10. He found one man who showed his disrespect for the king by not
wearing his wedding garment as he should have done.

11. The king sent him away from the feast.

[Illustration]

12. All are asked to come to God's feast, but few accept his invitation.

       *       *       *       *       *

QUESTIONS.

What is the Golden Text?

What is the Truth?

1. About what did Jesus tell a parable?

2. What did he say the kingdom of heaven is like?

3. When the feast was served for whom did the guests send?

4. To what did some of them refuse to listen?

5. What did still others do to the king's servants?

6. What did the king do to these murderers?

7. Whom did the king send his servants out into the streets to invite?

8. Whom did they bring to the feast?

9. Who went in to see his guests?

10. Who was not wearing the wedding garment?

11. What did the king do with him?

12. Who are asked to come to God's feast?

       *       *       *       *       *

LESSON HYMN.

_Tune_--"Jesus loves me, this I know," omitting chorus (E flat).

     Come and love the Savior now,
     Let us all before him bow;
     We must not reject his call,
     For he owns and loves us all.

       *       *       *       *       *

Title of Lesson for Aug. 30.

A Day of Questions.--Matt. 22:15-22.

       *       *       *       *       *

Golden Text for Aug. 30.

Render ... unto God the things that are God's.--Matt. 22:21.

       *       *       *       *       *

Beginners Golden Text for Aug. 30.

_We love him, because he first loved us._--1 John 4:19.



+--------------------------+
|                          |
| Advice to Boys and Girls |
|                          |
+--------------------------+

A Rule That Worked Both Ways.


It is a poor rule that will not work both ways. At least, so thought
Mrs. Fletcher, though her son, Ralph Fletcher, did not seem to be of the
same opinion until he had first tasted some of his own medicine.

"I wish you would pick up that book, Ralph. You have stepped over it
twice and have still left it on the floor," Mrs. Fletcher said to her
son one morning.

"I did not drop it, mother; it was Grace," Ralph replied.

"And because you did not drop it, you think you should not pick it up?
It would be a very unhappy world, Ralph, if all worked on that
principle. However, as you seem unwilling to be polite and brotherly, I
must ask Grace to place the book on the table again."

A few mornings afterward, Ralph went to his mother, saying:

"Mother, dear, will you take a stitch in this ball for me? I ripped it
playing with Frank Danver. Will you do it now? because I'm in a hurry."

"I did not rip the ball, and so I see no reason why I should mend it,"
Mrs. Fletcher said. "You did the damage; you must repair it."

"Oh, mother--" Ralph began, then stopped suddenly.

"Yes. It is not quite as nice a rule for others to work by, is it,
Ralph?"

"No; and it won't be nice for me after this, if I can help it," Ralph
replied with a blush.

After which, one may be sure, the mother's fingers went to work quickly
upon the ball. But that is a way mothers have, of ever standing ready to
give help and encouragement to their boys and girls.



SWINGING.

BY ELIZABETH LINCOLN GOULD.


     Swing, swing, under the apple tree,
     Down in the orchard when apples are red;
     Catch the rope tightly then up and away you go,
     Up to the green, spreading boughs overhead.

     Swing, swing under the apple tree,
     Up till you see the sky through the green;
     Down till your feet sweep the grass growing under you,
     Up, up again to the wide, leafy screen.

--_Youth's Companion._



[Entered at the Post Office at Elgin, Ill., as Second Class Mail
Matter.]

Price of Dew Drops.--In lots of five or more, to one address, 20 cents
per copy per year, or 5-1/2 cents per copy per quarter. Address,

David C. Cook Publishing Co., Elgin, Ill.





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