The Red Cloud chief., 1883-12-14

And that was enough for the happy child.
II. II. H.. in 81. Nichoias.
WHAT WINNIE LOST.
'sOh! now tell me another story
please do, Uncle Will, before it is time
for me to go to bed," Mabel pleaded,
as her uncle seated himself in the par.
lOr after tea. Uncle Will had read the
Peter Farley books when he was a boy,
so he knew Just how to make delightful
stories out of what little folks usually
think is very dry. indeed.
But then ANYTHING that her beloved
new Uncle Will told her would be
pleasant to Mabel. Only a few months
before he had married her dearest, best,
sweetest auntie, who had always been
good to her, and from that day, curious
as it may seem, Mabel took him into
her heart, and gave him Just as much
love as she did Aunt Alice, though
auntie seemed to get just as much as
before. And SO there is no end of low
ing. is there? Nobody found it a very
hard matter to love Uncle Will, he was
so merry and bright, and there was no
end to the things he knew and could
tell about. Then he was unselfsh; he
would give up his own pleasure any
time to amuse q child, or cheer up
somebody in trouble.
Before Uncle Will could answer
grandma spoke up. She noticed that
he had just pulled the evening paper
from his pocket, 20 she said as she
drew her rOcking-chair neal the fire
the very first fire that had cracked in
the CRATE that autumn:
Come over here, Mabel dear, I will
tell you q story"
'Will it be nice, like Uncle Wills
stOries?" Mabel asked, coming slowly
the room.
Il will let you answer that question
after l have told it," said grandma,
reaching for her knitting-bag.
Twill it be a history story?" asked
Mabel, again.
''What is a history story?"
"Why. all about something that truly
happened a long time ago, to a truly
somebody" said Mabel.
Must it have happened a long time
ago to make it h:story? Don't you
know history is be ing made every day?
You remember all about our dear Presi-
dent Garfield. don't you? 1t is only a
short time since those sad days. but the
story is published now in a book, and
that is history"
"Oh, yes, 1 know" said Mabel,
eagerly-sOme of the things Uncle Will
had taught her just coming into her
head-''I know; anything that hap
pened hundreds of years ago is ancient
history, and what happened lately or
the last hundred years or so is called
mOdery history"
That is right" said grandma; well,
now. 1 will tell you a story of modern
history.
''Once upon a time-not a hundred
years ago-therc wasa little girl by the
name Of Winnie.
'.Her home was a handsome house in
the city. There were many pleasant
con in it, but on this particular
morning, Winnie was sitting in the at
tic.
''She had not been sent there as a
punishment, it was the place she chose
to be. There was a pretty window in
n end of the long low room. 1t had
small paDes of glass: some of them
were cOlOred. When the morning was
chilly, Winnie liked TO get off ur there, |
for the sunshine came with \ rosy light
through the red glass. There was a
large old chair by the window, and
Winnie said it was a coy place. So
she had brought her slate and arithme-
tic and geography. to study her lessons.
She always studied q couple of hours in
fha unnrn;p~ thop rocsto1 tn Amt
Lena; after that, the time was her own
to walk or play as she chose. She
curled herself up in the large chair, and
opened her book. but did not look in it;
she looked out of the window, and saw
up in the caves little brown sparrows
fiuttering and twittering. She dropped
her hooks and climbed up on the chair
and watched them a long time. At last
she tried to count them, and that made
her remember that she had better be
learning her multiplication table, so
she slid down into the chair again and
opened her book.
1T wa . queer kind of multiplica-
ton table she found. though. With one
eye on her book, and the other rowing
about the room, it went something like
this:
"'Seven times four are twenty-eight.
I wonder if that's . big spiderl'
"'Seven times five are thirty-five.
What q funny looking old bureau that
".Seven times six are forty-two. l do
b'lieve l hear . cricket"
"'Seven times are forty-nine.
Oh dear, what IL the use of this old
multiplication taller
"sSeven times eight arc fifty-six.
Wonder if grandma's old chest il
locked mean to seer and with that
Town went her book and awsy she
across the floor to the blue chest