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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. i errata d to It le pelure, pon d U 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 THE COUNTESS OF MINTO THE LITTLE MANITOBAN A CHILD'S STORY-BOOK I 1 ISSUED UNDER THE DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE OF HER EXCELLENCY THE COUNTESS OF MINTO FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE CHILDREN'S AID SOCIETY OF WINNIPEG, MANITOBA WINNIPEG, MANITOBA: TRINTED AND I'lMlLISHEn FOR THK SOCIKTY BY THE MANITOBA FKER PRESS COMPANY Christmas, 1900 CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION BY THE COUNTESS OF MINTO PART I. (juvenile section.) Page THE BROOK (Poetry)— Florence Alice Maclure 10 BRUNO— Margaret Helen Connell 12 BELLA'S PRAYER— Florence May Garland 19 THE MISSION OF THE WHEAT PLANT— Miss Lizzie L. Sharman 20 HOW CHIEF PRINCE OUTWITTED THE HALF-BREEDS-William E. Grant. 22 OBEDIENCE— Carrie Wilson 26 LILIAN'S CHRISTMAS— Isabella Mackay 27 FOR MAMMA— Mabel Cummings 30 LOST AND FOUND— Katie 0?.tway 32 THE RIVER— Ethel Madeline Hicks 35 THE REVENGE OF THE MICMACS— Jean Bayne 38 HOW SANTA CLAUS CAME— Bonnie Simpson 41 THE THIEF— John H. Grant 44 LITTLE TIM— Kathleen Brownridge 48 THE BEAR'S CHRISTMAS— Katie McDonald 51 WHAT CRISSY HEARD THE LILY SAY— Mollie McGregor 53 HAPPY CHRISTMAS— Bina Johannson 56 HARD PRESSED— Fred McLellan and Will Brown 58 BETTY— Winnie Smith 62 PART II. WINTER IN THE BUSH— Rev. Lewis Drummond. S. J 68 A BIRD SONG— Miss Kathleen Kirchhoflfer 85 A FIN-BACK IN ACTION— Miss A. C. Laut 86 CHRISTMAS AT GRANDMA'S— Mrs. A. E. Blakely 95 OUR PUNCH AND JUDY SHOW— Mrs. Percy W. Ireland 105 THE WEDDING OF THE FLOWERS— Mr. Walter Edmonds 110 SAVED BY A BIRD—" Mollie Mayburn " 112 THE TTiUE STORY OF MOTHER GOOSE—" Mary Markwell " 116 THE ANIMAL'S CHRISTMAS IN THE ARK-Mrs. G. D. Mintv 121 THE GOLD LOCKET— Rev. Dr. Bryce 126 THE NEW LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD— Mr. W. J. Healv LSfi THE SANDPIPERS— Miss Kathleen Kirchhoflfer un WHAT THE COIN TOLD MARJORY— Miss St. Clair Livingston 14-i THE SPOTTED DOG— Rev. Charles W. McKim 145 DISOBEDIENCE—" Mary Markwell " I.54 THE BOY WHO HAD NO NAME— Mr. Charles Mair 158 AN ANIMAL STORY— Mr. Ernest Seton-Thompson 165 INTRODUCTION. HAVE been asked to write an introduction to this Christmas Souvenir Story Book, published on behalf of the Children's Aid Society of Winnipeg, and, though I deeply appreciate the opportunity thus afforded me of saying a few words in praise of such a work, I cannot help feeling that, to a public which is already aware of the admirable aims and objects of the Society, and to readers whose attention has been once drawn to the list of the contributors to this volume, any further introduction must appear superfluous and unnecessary. As a means of raising funds for a charity which is among the most estimable charities of the Dominion, the publication of this Story Book must commend itself warmly to the notif "^ all those to whom the lot of their poorer brethren is a matter of any mom> , as a literary production this volume is well able to stand, with the certainty of a thoroughly deserved success, upon its merits alone. Any project which tends towards the better treatment and the amelioria- tion of the condition of the poorest classes ; any scheme which has in view the question of providing food for the destitute, homes for the homeless, comfort for the neglected and ill-used, must appeal to the hearts of all who have ever given a moment's consideration to the solution of that great " problem of the poor " which ever, amid all the sunshine of the world, casts a haunting shadow across our path and forms a barrier to retard the progress of civilization. And, when the object of a charity is to ameliorate the lot of those unfor- tunate children who, through no fault of their own, but by reason of their destitu- tion or through the neglect of unfortunate parents, are suffering from the cruelty of their circumstances or condition ; whose characters are being warped, whose natures are being brutalized by the degradation of their surroundings ; the most callous heart must be reached and touched by its appeal. For the parents of children for whose happiness it is their one desire, for whose comfort and personal well-being it is their one delight to provide, it must be a particularly blessed and absorbing task to bring joy into the hearts of those other children to whom the fact of their existence has hitherto implied nothing but neglect and ill-treatment; to carry warmth and sunshine into the lives of those little ones to whom the world must seem but a cold and darkened desert of doubt and misery ; and to brighten the lot of those in whose little minds have flourished no deeper feeling than the power of suffering, no higher thought than a stiange wonder at the "mystery of the cruelty of things." For the children of those whose lives are cast in pleasant places, whose lot is laid on other, happier lines, it is an invaluable privilege and must be an especi- al pleasure to assist, by the warmth of their good wishes, by the subscription of their monetary contributions, and by every endeavor which is prompted by an earnest, heartfelt interest in the lives of their less fortunate fellow-beings, to carry on and bring to a successful issue a charitable undertaking which pos- sesses so peculiarly attractive and admirable an object. Such an object, indeed, speaks for itself; it needs no advocate. Such good work requires but to be brought to the notice of the public to earn an inmiedi- ate, unanimous and ready support ; and if, by the publication of this book, a keener and more general feeling of interest in the good work of the Society is roused, and the further continuance of such good work is facilitated, the vol- ume will have completed the task which it set forth to accomplish, and in so doing attain that measure of success which shall justify its existence. 9>ia-,-y Jku, A PMMT Ec THE BROOK. First, 'tis a tiny zvatcrfall.a baby river u'iirniiii:; to crazvl, IViiuiiiii^ ami frolicking in and out, Skipping and dancinjj, round about, Pausiui:; to grasp at a perfumed tioii'cr That clings to the cliff, its earth-broii• ■• -1 ■ ^K^BB ( t / f- T % k -i-'''./. ii ■^^-■"' , "■' Dot anl Bruno, BRUNO. 15 " And a tiny white dot on his nose," said both children together. " And a pretty, black, curly coat," said mamma. "What shall we call him?" asked Gert. "Would 'Puppy' do? That's what he is." " Are you called ' Girl ' because you're ^ne ? " asked Dot, indignantly. "Oh — h — h, no! What shall we call him. mamma?" "How would Bruno do?'' said mamma. "That was the name of dear Aunt Marion's great big dog." " Yes," said Dot. " I think Bruno would be a pretty name. Bruno, do you like your name? " " I suppose wagging his tail means ' Yes,' '' said Gert, " but, I wonder where he came from?" patting the dog's black, glossy head. "I don't suppose the fairies left him, or the brownies, or — or Santa Glaus." " Not Santa Glaus." said Dot ; " this is summer time." " I know where he came from ! " added Dot. thoughtfully, " just one person in the whole world would think of getting him. Just one!" and a loving look came into her eyes. " You always seem to know everything! " said Gert, a little vexed. " Who is just the one person in the whole world who would think of getting him?" " Mother, of course, darling mother ! " said Dot. Mr. and Mrs. McGarthy, who had been hearing the children's chatter, now came into the room. "Oh, thank vou. mamma, dear mamma!" exclaimed both children, hujr- ging her tightly ; " we know it was you who got us the dear little pup. We've called him, as you proposed, Uruno; do tell us where you got him?" " I bought him for you, little daughters," said mamma, " and now you must treat him well." The little girls spent a couple of delightful months with Bruno, who soon learned to answer to his name ; but now 1 must tell you how poor IJruno was spoiled. A family of seven boys came to live next door to the children, and they had no dog of their own. When the little girls called Bruno in their yard, the boys, across the way would call him from their yard, and when Dot and Gert would tell Bruno to go in the house — and he would go very obediently — as soon as poor Bruno was in, the boys would call, " Bruno! Bruno! Bruno! " and whistle most coaxingly. and obedient Bruno would rush out to them. This was kept up for over a year, and the dog did not know when or whom to obey. But the naughty boys had taught Bruno one trick — that was to pick up sticks, and bits of paper, and old tin cans, which he would proudly bear to his mistresses. When Dot locked the house door, after putting Bruno in (to follow her be- 16 BRUNO. ing his kindly fault), she started off once more to school. Alas! At the school- house door she heard a short sharp yelp of joy, and lo! the irrepressible pet — the untrained doggie — was close beside her. " Oh, Bruno! " sobbed Dot; " I do wish you loved me less, or that you were better trained." The most troublesome thing he did was to follow the children to school. He would sneak out the back door, run up the lane, and, when the little girls would arrive at the top of the street, there Bruno would be sitting awaiting their com- ing. " There's Bruno," Dot would say. " He's your dog, and you will have to take him back ! " " No," Gert would answer. " You always feed him, so he is your dog ! " One day, Miss Forest, the teacher, said : " Gertie, there is some one at the door." Gert went to the door and opened it ; in walked Bruno ! The pupils were delighted, so was Bruno. " Maud (that was Dot's real name), take your dog out," said Miss Forest. " Please, Miss Forest, he is Gert's dog, not mine," said Gert. This occurred several times, and at last Bruno was tied to the foot-scraper — but the knock came again — the naughty dog pushed the door open with his de- termined nose, and Bruno marched trimuphantly in once more, the rope dang- ling to his neck, and attached to the rope was the scraper! Bruno lay down at Dot's feet, and, little readers, you would never know he was there ; this is w here he showed his affection, and entirely surpassed all other dogs ; he never left the side of Dot, and would stick to her as closely as he could. If Dot went to the teacher's desk, Bruno went too ; if she went to the blackboard, Bruno followed ; when she stood up to recite her lessons. Bruno stood up too, and he seemed to take a learned interest in each lesson. This irresponsible doggie went to church, went calling, and went to picnics ; if he were left behind, he would howl, bark, scratch and tear at the door with his teeth ; when he was allowed to follow, he was so overjoyed that he behaved very badly, leaping up at passers-by, mak- ing a feint of following horses, and disappearing around corners in the most mysterious way. People became well acquainted with him, and would always laugh when they saw him with the children. One day, a friend of the family invited Dot and Gert to visit a large candy manufactory, and they took good care to leave Bruno behind. When they reached the building, that naughty doggie was at their heels! The manufactory was surrounded by a fence about eight feet high, and they thought this would prove a match for him. They shut him out. A most terrific howling, barking and scratching followed. " It serves him right," said the children, " he should not have followed us." BRUNO. 17 Then they heard a peculiar scrambling, and, to their astonishment, Bruno's black head appeared at the top of the eight-foot fence. " I believe he is laughing at us," said Dot. " Just look at his face? I am sure he is laughing, if dogs can laugh ! " Then Bruno put one front paw over the fence in a coaxing way, and he began to whine. Dot shook her head at him, and over he came with a spring to the ground. "Why, Dot," said the gentleman, "your dog is an excellent jumper; that would hardly be equalled by a trained dog in a circus." " C). I believe Bruno would jump over the moon to follow Dot," said (Icrt, laughing. '' One day, the climax came, when Gert called from the yard, " jMother, mother, come quickly ! " but Gertie was laughing all the time. '" Bruno — has brought — " (here laughter stopped her) " has brought home a pudding-dish in his mouth ! " Mrs. ^McCarthy and Dot came out to see, and there, indeed, was Bruno with his prize. He was wagging his tail, as much as to say : " See what a fine dish I have brought you." The children's mamma was much mortified. "Dear me!" said she, "I wonder where Uruno got it! It must be returned at once." Dot washed the dish, and went up the long street ; knocked at the first door. " Is this your pudding-dish, Mrs. Taylor? Bruno just brought it home." " No, Dot, it is not mine, but it is a very nice one." Dot opened the second gate, and knocked at the second door. " Is this your i)udding-disli. Mrs. Black? Bruno just brought it home." " No. Dot; I wish it were. I haven't one as nice as that," was the reply. Dot opened the third gate, knocked at the door. " Is this your pudding-dish, Mrs. Harvey? Bruno just brought it home." " No, Dot ; I don't leave my pudding-dishes where dogs can get them," said Mrs. Harvey. So Dot carried the pudding-dish back. " We can't keep It." said Gert, looking at Bruno very severely. " Where did you get it, you bad doggie?" Bruno hung his head. One day Gert rushed in. calling " liruno has just come into the yard with a pie-plate ! " She rushed out again, breathless, to catechise the thief. " Bruno is adding to our culinary department," said Mrs. McCarthy, " l)ut will certainly come to a bad end, if he doesn't mend his ways." Gert, who was a humorist, opened the door of the cupboard, and pointing to the collection made by Bruno in his rambles, she said: " Xo. i. A pudding- dish ; will bake the most delicious puddings ever tasted. Xo. 2. A pudding- dish ; rather the worse for wear, but the puddings may be made just as good. No. 3. A bread-pan, in which meat has evidently been lately roasted ; not bad, either ; and to-day, a pie-plate that has seen not only pies, but bettter days ! " " Bruno, you are a valuable, if dangerous, acquistion to our house. Now, whv ^ 18 BRUNO. don't you bring a tea-kettle ? There is a hole in ours, as you very well know ! " ' Bruno thumped the floor with his tail, as much as to say, " Yes, a tea-kettle is what is wanted. I must keep my eye open for a kettle." " There is our dog coming out of the Archdeacon's yard, with something in his mouth ! " said Dot and Gert, rushing to the window. " I am disgraced with that dog! " said Mrs. McCarthy; " I do wish he had been trained to behave. He is actually coming down the middle of the street, and, goodness, he has — a — a joint of meat in his jaws !" Sure enough, on came Bruno, steering straight for the house and bearing a line roast. " He has taken it from an Archdeacon, too," cried Dot. " How scandal- ous ! We will have to take it back and apologize.'' " Not if he brought all the pots, kettles and pans from here to St. John's ! " said Gert, crying. " People will think he is trained to — to — to " The children both burst into tears. Something fell on the porch floor with a thump. It was the Archdeacon's dinner. Everything has an end, and Bruno's end came soon. The pound-man made his rounds, and poor I'runo had lost his tag: so away went Bruno, howl- ing his grief at being tied up to a master he did not want. Dot and Gert cried biiterly when their shaggy friend was gone. " lUtt," as their mamma said, " he was an untrained dog. and a nuisance to everybody." Next morning, when the little girls arrived at school, they were perfectly astonished (and not a little overjoyed) to find I'runo sitting on the door-step, uttering welcoming yelps. He behaved so well the rest of the day that Dot and (iert both believed he had been taught a lesson by being sent to pound; and Bruno, being solemnly charged by his little mistresses to behave better in future, that exceedingly wise dog winked his eyes three times, wagged his tail vigor- ously twice, and barked once, which everybody knows means, " I will be good,'" in dog language. Another tag was bought for him, and he is still the children's pet. This is the story of Bruno. The true story of a dog that went to school, to church, to visit, to picnics, and to pound. A story of the most troul)lesomc dog that ever lived, but who became a well-behaved dog, through adversity .and trouble, quite like real people do in the world. MARGARET HELEN CONNELL. Winnipeg. Bella's Prayer. ILL Santa Claus come to-night, mother ? " asked little Bella, drawing close up to her mother's sewing chair. Mrs. Blak-e's eyes were full of tears as she answered : " 1 hope so darling, hut it is a very dark night, you see. and he might lose his way." Bella looked up at her mother, and then she looked out at the darkness. The snow was falling steadily, and though there was a fire on the hearth, yet the room was very cold. Mrs. Blake saw the look of disapix)intment on her little girl's face, so she stitched very fast now, and glancing up at the clock, she said: " If Santa Claus doesn't get this far to-night, won't my little girl wait until next year?" "Oh, yes, mamma." said Bella, hut she sighed a great hig sigh for a very little girl. Bella couldn't sleep; she was thinking so hard whether Santa Claus would find the way. or would he get lost and not come at all? Then she fell asleep. .Suddenly she was awake again. The room was very dark, and just a very small fire seemed to he hurning in the grate. How could anvhodv see on such a dark night? The little girl saw that her mother was sleei)ing soundly heside her. She got out of hed and lit the candle, then placed it in the window " Now.'-' she said. " Santa Claus can see h.is way ! " She knelt down on the cold floor, folded her little hands, and .said' " Please, God. let Santa Claus come here to-mght." Then she crept into hed and fell asleep. In the morning she found her stocking full of goodies ; she told her mother ahout her prayer and how God had answered it. Her mother told I'.ella she should he very happy and thank God for His goodness. Then Bella and her mother knelt down and thanked God. •LORENCE MAY GARLAND. Portage la Prairie, Manitoba. Cbe mission of tbe Olbeat Plant. NE beautiful morning, just before harvest time, as I was waiving gently in the breeze, my children nestling closely up to me, murmured : " Mother, our separation is near, tell us the story of your life." So I began: The first I remember was the feeling of life stirring within me. Then I felt an impulse to shove my little folded leaf through the loose, moist soil into the warmth and sunshine above. For a short time I lived and grew on the food contained by the wheat seed from which I grew. When this was exhausted, I supplied myself with nourish- ment. I was now about two 'nches tall, and I began to notice more closely the tilings about me. I saw innumerable wheat-plants like myself growing around me. We had been planted in this field in the Spring by the farmer who owns us. Across the corner of the field flowed the river, on the opposite shore of which there was a grove of lovely trees. It was impossible not to grow and be happy with such beautiful surroundings; the soft Spring air blowing gently over us, the warm sun shining down upon us, and the sap flowing through our cells. We were taller and stronger now than any of the neighboring crops, and many people praised us and said it was the best crop they had seen. It was nice to be praised ; so we grew just as fast as we could. But " Pride goeth before a fall," for, as the season advanced, the sun's rays got hotter and hotter and the soil got drier and drier. Oh ! how we longed for a drink. Our leaves wilted a little , but that night it rained. We were awakened about midnight by the cool, refreshing drops falling gently down upon us and moistening our drooping leaves. They soaked " Mother Earth '" with water. I slept in the morning till a sunbeam whispered to me : " Work, little THE M/SSfON OF THE WHEAT PLANT. '1\ i:)lant, work, while you are strong and fresh ! " So, with the help of the sunshine, we made our food, and grew taller and stronger each day. Soon our shoot-blades appeared, and through these peeped each tiny head on which you children grew. But a sad time followed. A long dry spell set in, and the ground grew drier and drier each day. Oh! the agony of unquenched thirst. We prayed fervently for the cool drops to fall. Day by day we closed our stomata to lessen the evaporation, but it all seemed in vain. We soon became scorched and withered. Our leaves turned a brownish-yellow, with the glaring sun beating down upon them from the copper sky, and the hot. dry winds whirling the sand against and almost uprooting us. How we lived, day after day, I know not. Sometimes my thoughts dwe!* on the happy spring days, with their cooling showers, till I could almost feel the rain upon my burning leaves. But stern realities would be forced up(jn me by a glance at the suffering around me. To add to our misery, we heard of the rapid spread of insects, called grass- Iioppers. which flew in clouds, darkening the sun. The ])ees whispered with trembling accents of the great devastation wrought by these insects. But the end of our suffering was near. A southeast wind blew steadily for two days. Then came the rain. How cool and refreshing were those clear, pure drops falling gently from the darkened sky to put an end to our agony. The rain continued to fall for three days, till the ground was soaked with moisture. All nature rejoiced at the change. The birds sang sweetly, the bees buzzed cheerily as they gathered their winter store of honey from the flowers, and the Sim shone less fiercely, and with a more kindly ray, through the misty air. And now, my children, you are full grown. When you are ripe my work shall be ended, and I shall die. Then you will be harvested, and your warm wraps shall be taken from you. After that, my children, oh, what shall your life be? Are you to follow my path in life, or in that of my sisters? They were taken to a mill, and, with millions and millions of others, were made into flour to feed the hungry nation. LIZZIE S. SHARMAN. Souris, Manitoba. How €bicf Prince Outwitted ibe Half-Breeds. |YIXG on a tarpaulin in front of our camp-fire, we were resting ourselves after three hours' steady rowing in one of those big, flat-bottomed. Red River mud scows. " Chief," said Jack to the old Indian, who was seated on a log. cleaning his gun, " were you in this country when Wolseley came up from the Ea. ? " " Yes, I guided the party from the mouth of the Winni- peg River to Fort Garry," was the answer. "I suppose, then, you saw Riel, the leader of the half-breed rebels?" " Oh, yes, I knew him well, and once got the better of him." Jack would not let the chief alone till he had ccmsented to tell us his story. " It was at the time when Riel had the prisoners confined in Fort Garry," he began. " My father, who was chief of the Ojibway Indians, had collected a party of his braves, and was coming against the fort to demand from Riel the release of some of his tribe, who were among the prisoners. I was at that time attending St. John's College, and my father sent me word that he would meet me at the school next day. The same morning that I received the message I met a white man on the river. He was a stranger to me, but he knew who I was. He told me of a plan which would help my father in obtaining the re- lease of the prisoners, and he promised to give me sixty dollars if I should suc- ceed in carrying it out. I did not know the man, nor was T sure that he would give me the money, but since it would l)e the means of helping my father, I fell in with it. " He said he would supply me with a good horse, and all other necessar- ies, so we arranged to meet at a certain tree at three o'clock that afternoon. " At the appointed hour I met the man. " He had brought with him a little pie-bald pony. It was the finest little HOll" CHIEF PRIXCE OVTUITTED THE HAl.F-RREEDS. 23 hcast I have ever seen of its kind. When he saw how I achnired the horse he said: ' Prince, that horse is yo.irs. if >ou bring him hack." I thanked him and mounted. " lie handed me a file and a miml)er of iron spikes, which I put in my pocket; then he j^ave me a rifle, and, hist of all. a small hatchet. " The stranjrer wished me j^ood luck, and I departed. " I took the winter trail on the river, and followed it until within a half a mile of the Catholic mission. Then I rode my horse up the east bank of the river and made for the road that leaindow-sill and walked slowly down-stairs. Agnes, the mtrse. gave her her tea, which she ate in unusual silence. After tea she went up-stairs again, and began rummaging in an old box. which contained a great many bundles of turkey wings, destined to be used as dusters. On a high shelf there was a large bottle of mucilage. By standing on a chair, Lilian could reach it. She stuck her finger in the mucilage and drew it over her sleeve near the shoulder. In and out of the bottle went the 88 /.//.MATS ( flh'fSTM.LS. cliiihby linf;rr. until r.uli sKn-vr w.is wrll snuMicil with iinu-ilaj;;*.'. Lilian had (111 a pti'ttv \w\\ (hTss : hut of what r()nsr(|uciuH' was that when sht" ha