At length the time came to cut the birthday cake. The seven candles upon it had remained lighted during the repast and Mr. Allen put them out before dividing it; he was just going to extinguish the last one, when Master Bo jumped on the table, regardless of all propriety, and cried out, "Oh, Papa, let me blow out the middle candle, that is a blessed one and I want to breathe the holy smoke."

There was a hearty laugh at this and Father Leonard enjoyed the joke more than any one. When he could manage to speak after the hilarity had subsided he asked: "Bo, why did you want to breathe the holy smoke?"

"Because," answered the boy, "Hetty says the mischief spirit is in me, and I wanted to smoke it out." Again there was an outburst of laughter, although only the older folks understood the wit of Bo's remark.

After supper the children prepared for the entertainment. Those who were to speak or sing went with Aunty Lucy and Miss May to have some last finishing touches put to their toilet, and make sure they remembered their pieces.

The end of the piazza had been arranged as a stage. Three large j.a.panese screens formed a back ground and an arch of white climbing roses and honey suckles served instead of a drop curtain. Groups of electric lamps had been placed so as to have the light fall directly on the little actors. Chairs and benches for the audience were arranged on the lawn just opposite the arch. At half past eight o'clock, it was sufficiently dark to bring out the illumination on the piazza, so the show began.

The first scene represented Amy seated on a chair, which was draped with gilt paper, festooned with flowers and resembled a veritable golden throne. From behind the scene came seven children carrying flowers and singing:

We come, we come from hill and dell To welcome her we love so well.

We come on wings of silver light, For 'tis our Amy's festal night.

We bring her from our fairy bowers Tiny buds and opening flowers, In mystic language they all shall tell We love our darling Amy well.

Then one of the little girls placed a crown of Lilies of the Valley on the little queen's head, and the other children laid their flowers at her feet.

This was a total surprise to Amy, for the children had been told not to let her know they were learning the song; her sweet face was a study while she received the homage of her little friends, but she was equal to the occasion, and rising from her seat made a profound bow and said, "Thank you! Oh! I thank you so much." After this came a violin solo by Adolph Lane, which was extremely well rendered. Edith Scot and her brother danced the "Sailors' Hornpipe" dressed in fancy costume.

Bolax and his chum, Robbie Thornton, spoke Whitcomb Riley's "When the World Busts Through." Suggested by an earthquake.

Where's a boy a-goin'; An' what's he goin' to do, And how's he goin' to do it When the world busts through?

Ma says "she can't tell What we're comin' to!"

An' Pop says, "He's jest skeered Clean-plum through."

Second Boy.

Suppose we'd be a playin'

Out in the street, An' the ground 'nd split up 'Bout forty feet!

Ma says, "She jest knows We 'ud tumble in;"

An' Pop's says, "Bet you, Den you wouldn't grin."

First Boy.

S'pose we'd jest be pretendin'

Like we had a show, Down in the stable Where we mustn't go-- Ma says, "the earthquake Might make it fall;"

An' Pop says, "more'n like Swaller barn an' all."

Landy! ef we wuz Runin' away from school, Down in the shady woods Where it's all so cool!

Ma says "a big tree Might squash our head;"

An' Pop says, "chop 'em out Both killed-dead."

Both Boys.

But where is a boy a-goin', An' what's he goin' to do, An' how's he going' to do it, Er the world bust through.

The little fellows recited this with scared faces and such comical gravity as to keep every one laughing. Amy came next with "Songs of Seven," by Jean Ingelow.

There's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in Heaven, I've said my Seven times over and over, Seven times one are seven.

I am old, so old, I can write a letter, My birthday lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one times one.

Oh, moon! in the night I've seen you sailing And shining so round and low, You were bright; ah, bright! but your light is Failing, you are nothing now but a bow.

You moon, have you done something wrong in Heaven That G.o.d has hidden your face?

I hope if you have, you will soon be forgiven, And shine again in your place.

Oh, velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow; You've powdered your wings with gold; Oh, brave Marsh--marigold rich and yellow Give me your money to hold.

And show me your nest with the young ones in it; I will not steal them away!

I am old, you may trust me, Linnet, Linnet, I am seven years old today.

This was beautifully rendered and such a very appropriate selection for a seventh birthday. The entertainment ended, every one prepared to go home, one and all expressing their delight and declaring it was the most enjoyable birthday party they had ever witnessed.

CHAPTER IV.

PLEASANT CONTROVERSY.

Mr. Allen sat on the porch smoking, when Mr. Steck, the Lutheran minister, opened the gate and walked in. Mr. Allen greeted him cordially and invited him to be seated.

The day was warm, but there was always a breeze on the corner of that porch, where the odor of the honeysuckle and climbing roses, which gave shade, made it a most inviting spot to rest.

"Have a segar, Mr. Steck." "Thank you, Mr. Allen, I am glad to see you at home on a week day, it is so seldom you take a holiday." "Holidays are not for men with a family to support; you may thank your stars, you are a bachelor." "That sounds as though you think I have a great share of leisure time. Well, I acknowledge my duties in this village are not very onerous, still I find enough to do. By the way, I have just been to see Miss Ogden. It is wonderful how the poor girl clings to life. As I left her house, I met Amy and Bolax, the dear children asked so kindly after the dying girl, but Bo--now don't be offended Mr. Allen, I have always taken a great interest in that boy having known him from a baby; he is wonderfully bright, makes such witty remarks," "and does such tormenting mischief at times," interrupted Mr. Allen. "Well," continued Mr. Steck, "When I told the children how ill Miss Ogden was, Bo gave me this medal of St. Benedict, telling me to put it on the poor girl's neck, and she would be sure to get well. I asked who told him that?

Then Amy looked at me so earnestly and said: 'Oh, Saint Benedict can cure anybody. You know he was a great doctor when he was on earth, and he was so good our Lord gave him power to cure people who wear his medal.' 'Yes, and he cured Nannie,' said Bo, 'see I have the medal on her yet;' and lifting a daisy chain he showed me the medal on the goat's neck." "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Allen, "that's so like Bolax, he is a mixture of imp and angel."

"Now my friend," continued Mr. Steck, "allow me to ask you, who have been brought up an Episcopalian, if you approve of such superst.i.tions? I did not suppose that educated Romanists entered into ridiculous practices of this sort; putting faith in--well, I might as well say it: Idols!" "--Hold on, Mr. Steck, I am not versed in the theology of the Catholic Church, and do not try to account for a great many little customs such as my little ones spoke about, but I'll venture to a.s.sert they do not injure the souls or bodies of those who believe in them. My wife never bothers me about her religion, never enters into controversy, although I have a notion, that on the sly, she is praying me into it."

"And from what you say," remarked Mr. Steck, "I think her prayers are being heard. I don't object to the Catholic religion; I think many of its doctrines are good and sound, but it would be more edifying to the general run of Christians, if there were not so many superst.i.tious practices allowed." "Come, now Mr. Steck do not condemn what you do not understand. I travel a great deal as you know, and often attend churches of different denominations; but whenever I try to get an explanation of their various beliefs, one and all answer me somewhat in this manner: 'Well, I don't believe thus and so;' 'I don't approve of this or that doctrine,' etc. I never can get any of them to say right out what they do believe. One point only do they all agree upon and that is, condemnation of the Roman Catholic Church." Opening a memorandum book, Mr. Allen took out a paper saying, "here is a hymn which I heard sung in a Campbellite Sunday School:

"Come to me my little Children, Sing and raise your voices high; Sing of Jesus, not of Mary, Nor other popish patron saints; They can neither save nor help us, Nor attend to our Complaints; Tell your little popish neighbors How to Jesus they may go If they wish to get to Heaven, They must worship Him alone."

"Very poor verse, but I copied it from one of the Hymn Books. Now, what can be gained by teaching children such absurdities? If you were intimately acquainted with Catholic little ones, you would find they bring Jesus into their daily lives more than do those who are taught to ridicule them."

"Oh," said Mr. Steck, "I admit there are many ignorant preachers out West, who think they honor G.o.d by abusing the Catholic religion, but you never hear me or Mr. Patton make use of an uncharitable word in connection with any one religion."

"Mr. Steck let me tell you that even the children of illiterate parents, who are practical Catholics, you will find able to answer questions about their religion, and keep Jesus in their thoughts. Just to give you an example: yesterday my wife went over to Miss Scrips and found her tying up a rosebush in the garden, the cook's little boy, about seven years old, held the branch for her, while doing this, he uttered a cry of pain, tears came into his eyes, but checking himself, he said: "Oh, if one thorn hurts so much how dreadful He must have suffered with His head all covered with thorns. Poor Jesus!"

"Indeed," said Mr. Steck, "that was extraordinary. He must be an exceptional boy. Such a child will die young, or be a great preacher some day." "Well, I just tell this one instance," replied Mr. Allen, "to let you see the impression made on the heart of Catholic children by constantly keeping before them incidents in the life of Christ.

"Papa! Papa!" was heard in the distance. Mr. Allen got up saying: "That sounds like Bolax." Going to the gate he saw a crowd of youngsters following Bo, who was vainly trying to catch the goat. Nan was tearing down the road with Roy, Buz and Don his pet dogs, in full chase after her. It was too funny to see Nan turn on the dogs, stand on hind legs and with a loud Ma-a-a! start off again.

"I wish I were a few years younger," said Mr. Steck, "I'd join in the chase." Mr. Allen tried to head Nan off, Bo kept yelling--"Papa make the dogs stop barking, it frightens poor Nan." In going to the rescue, Mr.

Allen left the garden gate open, Nannie rushed in tearing over the flower beds, to the great dismay of the onlookers, especially Hetty who had come out to see what the row was about, grumbling to herself: "If yo' flower beds is spiled, youse got yu' own self to blame, Mr. Allen, it ain't no sense in havin' so many live creters round de place no how."

Pat came on the scene laughing in his good-natured way and catching the goat led her off to the stable.