"I would rather die!" and here his voice was so firm that all in the room heard it.
"Dottie and Howard!" he murmured, presently, and the princess drew back. After all, she was only a stranger.
He died, with their little faces pressed close to his own. "Give my love to mamma, dear mamma!" were his last words. Shortly after the nurses drew the children away. The boy had had his wish. He had died for his country as truly as if he had fallen in battle.
GRANDMOTHER AND THE CROW
GRANDMOTHER AND THE CROW.
When I was a little girl I lived with my grandmother, and a gay, lively little grandmother she was. Away back in the family was French blood, and I am sure that she resembled French old people, who are usually vivacious and cheerful. On my twelfth birthday I was driving with her through a thick wood, when we heard in front of us the loud shouting and laughing of boys.
"Drive on, George," said my grandmother; "let us see what this is all about."