Connecticut western news., 1915-09-02

fair, whatever that is, as q Gy- roscope. It keeps steadily whirling along it's lawful track. and, thus far seeming to hold right of way, spins doggedly on, with no perceptible dimi- mutton of speed to mark the most gi- gantic human events. It did not pause to pant and recupcrate even when what seemed to PenrOd it's principal purpose was accomplished, and an enOr- nous shadow, vanishing westward over it's surface, marked the dawn of his twelfth birthday.
 To be twelve is an attainment worth the struggle. A boy, just twelve, is like a Frenchman just elected to the academy.
 Distinction and honor wait upon him. Younger boys show deference to a per son of twelve. His experience is guar anteed, his judgment, therefore, mel low; consequently his influence is pro found. Eleven is not quite satisfac- tory. It is only an approach. Eleven has the disadvantage of six. of nine teen, of foIty-four and of siXty-nine. But, like twelve, seven is an honorable uSG, uIlu lilc LO ullulI IL IS laudable People look forward to be- ing seven. Similarly, twenty is worthy, and so, arbitrarily, is twenty-OIe; for ty-five has great solidity; seventy is most commendable and each year thereafter an increasing honor. Thir- teen is embarrassed by the beginnings of q new colthood. The child becomes a youth. But twelve is the very top of boyhoOd.
 Dressing that morning, Penrod felt that the world was changed from the world of yesterday. For one thing, he seemed to own more of it. This day was his day. And it was day worth owning. The midsummer sunshine, pouring gold through his window, came from a cool sky, and a breeze moved pleasantly i'll his hair as he leaned from the sill to watch the tribe of chattering blackbirds take wing, fol lowing their leader from the trees ill the yard to the days work in the open country. The blackbirds were his, as the sunshine and the breeze were his, for they all belonged to the day which was his birthday and therefore most surely his. Pride suffused him. He was twelve!
 His father and his mother and Mar garet seemed to understand the differ ence between today and yesterday. They were at the table when he de- scended, and they gave him a greeting which of itself marked the milestone. Habitually his entrance into a room where his elders sat brought cloud of apprehension. They were prone to look up in pathetic expectancy, as if their thought was, What new awful ness is he going to start now?" But this morning they laughed. His moth CT rose and kissed him twelve times. So did Margaret. And his father shouted: Well, well! How's the man?"
 Then his mother gave him a Bible and "The Vicar of Wakefield" Marga- let gave him pair of silver mounted hairbrushes, and his father gave him "Pocket Atlas" and a small compass.
 And now. Penrod," said his mother after breakfast, I'm going to take you OAL III lhC NOhlilLs IO IttN NOtl bIL LII day respects so Aunt Sarah Crim."
 Aunt Sarah Grim. Penrod's great aunt, was his oldest living relative. She was ninety, and when Mrs. SchO- field and PenrOd alighted from car riage at her gate they found her dig ging with q spade in the garden.
 "Im glad you brought him." she said, 1pcicfino 11h HTinnrr'S hol ing q cake I'm going to send for his birthday party. Bring him in the house. I've got something for him."
 She led the way to her sitting rOom," which had a pleasant smell. unlike any other smell. and opening the drawer of a shining old whatn0t took thercfrom a boys "slingshot," made of q forlled stick. two strips of rubber and a bit of loot her
 '"rhS' isn't for you," she said, plac- ilf~ it in Penrod's eager hand. 'NO. 1t would break all to pieces the first time you tried to shoot it because it is thirty-five years old. I want to send it back to your father. I think it's time. You give it to him from me and tell him l say 1 believe l can trust him with it now. 1 took it away from him thirty-fve years ago. one day aft CT he'd killed my best hen with it ac-~ cidentally and broken q glass pitcher on the back pOr,h with it-accidental- ly. He doesn't look like person who's ever done things of that sort, and I suppose he's forgotten it so well that he bclicyes Le never did, but if Tot1 give it to him from me think he'll remember. YOu look like him, Penrod. IIe was anything but q hand some boy"
 After tl.; final bit of reminsccnce- probably designed to be repeated to MT. Schoficd-she disappeared in the