Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-04-02
gor 1lonns l9eaders.
HOW MIG LEARNED TO BIZ COZ.
TENT.

HOW MIG LEARNED TO BIZ con.
TENT.
She was Mhreareg' At school, when
the roll was called: and when the min
ister talked 10 her, with a grave. kind
interest, which pleased while Il fright
ened her; but Meg from her father
and mother, and the four brothers, at
once her torment and pride. She was
thirteen years old, plump and pretty,
with brown hair and blue eyes; "happy
a. a bird most Of the time. "But
lately something Is the matter with
Meg" said her mother, with an anxious
look on her dear face; "f can hardly
get her 10 practice, her books are neg
lected, and yesterday when ] suggested
that she spend the afternoon with the
Blake girls, she said, mournfully, I've
nothing tit 10 wear there This morn
ing when ] asked her 10 put the boys
room in order she went upstairs, say
ing something about wasting her time
on them and afterward my request
that she make a pudding for dinner was
met with a food Of tears. What can
be the matterY' All this 10 Meg's IA
ther while he rested in the shady sit
ting-room, before going down town for
the afternoon,
Il should say the Giant Discomfort
had taken possession Of her," replied
Mr.. French: "ThOse Blake girls are
pretty wealthy and stylish, aren't theyP
Possibly Meg thinks she is having a
hard time in contrast"
81 should not wonder II you we're
right" answered Mrs. French. 81
hope it won't last long, she has usually
been so sensible and helpful" p" and she
went on sorting stockings from the bas-
ket by her side.
&" Mary and Ella Blake have no
mother" said Mr. French, as he bent
TO kiss his wife. "Meg ought TO let that
more than balance their fine clothes
and fashionable way Of living. But
don't worry, dear, she will wake up
some day." and he passed out through
the sunny yard into the street.
"Meg, dear" called Mrs. French
from the hall, a half an hour after,
"will you come downw
Yes, mamma" and slowly down
the stairs came Meg, $50 pretty" " you
would have said in her light muslin,
and her brown hair tied back with blue
| ribbons; but she looked very sober, as
she entered the sitting-room and asked
in listless way, "What do you wish,
mammapi
"Only your help about this great
pile Of stockings, dear" answered her
mother. 81 have hard headache and
can hardly see the holes"
~ shouldn't think you'd have any
trouble in seeing them" laughed Meg,
family; chow can those boys wear out
stockings sop the smile dying away
as she threaded her needle.
After few moments silence, during
which Meg sighed as she measured the
4 hole in Ned's stocking, Mrs. French
laid down her work and said, wearily,
81 cannot sit up a moment longer.
Can you finish them, Meg?n
What naughty spirit kept Meg from
springing to her mothers side to help
her to her room, and from assuring her
that she would finish them cheerfully?
Can any of my girl friends tell? She
only answered coldly, Eyes, ma am.
suppose so, and let her mother pass
! slowly out of the room. She did moi
| see her uncertain steps, for she was toe
intent on her own selfish thoughts
which found relief in words as soon a,
| she was alone. IF this isn't too bad
Why couldn't mamma wait till tO-mor
row to mend theseP did want to q
to the park this afternoon. Mary anC
Ella are to be there. think my dresl
is as pretty as theirs if it isn't covered
with lace. Oh, those hOrrid bovsr' a!
another dive into the basket brough
up a second much-worn pair of stock
ings, and Meg frowned and pouted til
you would hardly have known he
] sweet face.
Just then, with a merry shout, tall
bright boy dashed into the room, am
with glance at Meg exclainled:
"Graciousi it's going to storm!
see the thunder-clOud. Where shall
fly for safetyP" and, perching on tn,
/ back of the sofa, he asked, "Miss Mar
garet French, why is your lovely fact
so sadP Confide in me! Can't you d,
your hair a la Blake, or what's tn,
/ troubleP'
"Ned, should think you'd b,
ashamed to talk So" replied Meg
especially when I'm working fOl
you" holding up the offending stock
ing.
"I admit that's big hole" assenteC
Ned, tossing his cap in the air, "but
presume 1 made it trotting round foi
you and your young lady friends. Say
Meg, made some poetry this morn
ing, listen" and he " struck an atti
tude," with his cap under his arm, AM
began:
My dear Miss Blake,
/ No heart vo1