The boys and girls were not, to all appearances, conscious of the change in themselves, nor had they been would many have recognized its source; but their elders were not slow to discover the little leaven at work in their midst, nor to benefit by the suggestion of a duty owed to themselves and families which this contained, as the unusual number of subscribers to some of our best periodical literature the following year amply testified.
As the year was about drawing to a close, grandpa looked over Janet’s record-book to ascertain what had been the measure of the pecuniary reward of the enterprise; and this is what he learned: The different patrons of the library numbered nearly one hundred, a few having read every one of the books, while others had taken not more than one or two. But of the thirty-five books each and every one had been out several times, and as some had proved greater favorites than others, grandpa made a general average of time upon the whole of one hundred days each—equal to thirty-five hundred days—which, at two cents per day, had brought a return of seventy dollars. The magazines, evidently, had been the greatest favorites of all, as the record showed that they had been out fully three-fourths of the time, and had earned a trifle over ten dollars.
This, added to the earnings of the bound books, made the nice sum of eighty dollars in something less than one year—thirty dollars over and above the original investment—while not one book was lost, nor one so badly worn that it would not do good service some time longer.
To say that grandpa was delighted at this showing would be but a feeble expression of his feelings; and when the facts in regard to the success of her undertaking were laid before Janet’s friends, they were so well pleased that their united judgment was in favor of a continuance of the work, advising that she withdraw the thirty dollars profit and put this amount out on interest, while the original sum should be reinvested in new books.
This was quite in accordance with her own wishes; and as the year had been prolific of cheap editions of old and standard works, as well as of many new ones, she was enabled to increase her stock to over one hundred choice volumes suited to both old and young readers, naturally increasing the number of her patrons and adding greatly to the popularity of the little library. And although only about one-fourth of the second year has elapsed, the people of the village are already beginning to look upon Janet’s library as one of the permanent and praiseworthy institutions of the town, many talking confidently of a time in the near future when it shall comprise many hundreds of volumes, and be no longer “the Little Library.”
CHRISTMAS ROAST BEEF.
BY A. W. LYMAN.
I HAD just sat down to my dinner, Christmas Day, when there was a distant shout down the street; then another still nearer. The policeman on the corner sounded his rattle for reinforcements; there was the sharp clatter of hoofs on the paving stones; two pistol shots in quick succession, and the confused murmur of many voices. I rushed to the window in time to see an excited crowd gathered about a prostrate and wounded steer, a fugitive from a passing drove of Texas cattle. There was little damage done by his mad flight; the old newsman on the corner was knocked down and sustained trifling injuries, and the excitement was soon over. The wounded animal was taken away in a wagon, and I resumed my dinner, with my mind on the Texas steer. “Poor fellow!” I mused, “you have a long, hard journey of it from Texas to roast beef!” and I began mentally to follow him in his successive steps.