OSCAR T. W——.
It only remains to say that Marcus Aurelius is back home, at Lady Margaret's; but she never makes a bracelet of him, now; most ingeniously mended and stuffed, he abides perpetually in a glass case; and she describes his perfections and his lamentable end with tears in her eyes.
ANNA AND THE RATTLER
By Mrs. Cornell
A voice rose wrathfully in the back yard, "Wee-lie! What iss this?
You fell in the pig trough? Come here, that I beat you! Come here,
I say!"
Willie did not accept the invitation. A shrill whimpering was his sole response. Twelve-year-old Anna stepped to the kitchen door, peering round the sash. "Pa's scolding Willie," she announced to her mother.
The storm continued to rage in the back yard.
"Shust look at your clothes! Go now! To the creek wit' you! Come not in the house until you are cleaned. Ach!"
Ex-Sea-Captain Schulz, now prune-grower in the mountain boundary west of Santa Clara Valley, turned in at the kitchen door.
"I don't know what to do wit' the boy. Go, mine Anna, get the lad a clean shirt, and take it down to the creek."