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 superstitions? 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 assert 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 superstitious 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:

"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 God 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.

"Don't whip poor Nannie," cried Bolax, "it wasn't her fault, it was the dogs that made her run through the flowers, but, oh—Pat don't whip them neither; it was the boys who sicked them on Nan." "I'll not bate any of them shure," said Pat, "Master Bo, it's yourself is the tender-hearted spalpeen after all." Mr. Steck patted the boy, who looked ready to cry and consoled him by promising him a ride on horse-back. "Good-bye, my little man. Good-bye Mr. Steck," said Mr. Allen, "come again whenever you want to see a circus."

Papa did not say much about the wreck of his flower beds, seeing the distress of his little boy. Hetty took him into the kitchen to comfort him and put on a clean blouse. Mamma, Aunt Lucy and Amy had been out all the afternoon, so Bolax tried to amuse himself. Looking out of the window, he saw Buz, Roy and Don hunting something in the strawberry patch. Off he started to see what they were after. To his surprise, all three dogs were eating the nice big strawberries; he chased them out, and going through the fence went into the woods followed by the three rascals. Bo gathered all sorts of "plunder," as Hetty called his treasures.

When Aunt Lucy came home, he called to her saying he had such a beautiful horrible bug to show her. "I know you'll like him, he's a tremendous big fellow, I put him in your soap dish to save him for you." On opening the soap dish, however, the "beautiful horrible bug" was nowhere to be seen, although Aunt Lucy looked carefully in every corner and crevice for she did not fancy sleeping in a room with such company.

To pacify Bolax for the loss of his treasure Aunt Lucy told him about a stag-beetle her uncle had as a pet. "Uncle would put a drop of brandy and water in a spoon, and Mr. Beetle would sip a little, and then dance about, sometimes he would get quite frolicsome, and behave in such a funny way, staggering round, going one-sided, try to fly and at last give it up and go into a sound sleep. When he awoke he would make a buzzing noise, stretch out a leg or two, then fly as well as ever. Uncle kept him six months; I don't know how he happened to die, but one morning he was stiff—we were all so sorry."

Bolax listened, seeming quite interested, but when his aunt stopped speaking he began to whine: "But I want my beautiful horrible bug, I just do want him. Papa go upstairs and look for him, I had such trouble catching him in the woods. He has a red saddle under his black wings, and big horns, and stiff legs and red eyes. Please find him, Papa; I want to make a pet of him."

Here Mamma came up on the porch, and hearing about her boy going into the woods alone, was inclined to scold, as she had strictly forbidden the children to venture into lonely places without some one to watch over them. Bolax, then said, Adolph Layne had been with him. "Well," said Mamma, "I'm glad to know that—no doubt, we will find your 'beautiful horrible bug' in the morning. It cannot get away as the windows are all screened. He may have the room to himself and Aunt Lucy can sleep in the spare room."

Amy spied a Lady bug on the climbing rosebush, she caught it and gave it to her little brother to comfort him for his loss. Papa told the children never to harm a Lady bug because they are very useful insects. "In fact," said he, "I would like to have them on all my vines and bushes, for they always feed on the plant lice, which infest our choicest flowers. Indeed, I never could think of a Lady bug as a mere insect." "Oh!" said Amy, "why can't we call her Lady bird. She has strong little wings, and really seems like a tiny bird." "Well," continued Papa, "when I was very small, I often caught the dear little things, and firmly believed they understood when I said: 'Lady bug fly away home.' When one flew from my hand, I followed, watched her going home and found where she laid her eggs. She always selects a rosebush or honeysuckle or a hop vine, because they are more likely than others to have plant lice upon them. Lady bug's eggs are a bright yellow, small, flat and oval; when they are hatched out, the babies find their food all ready for them.

"At first, when just out of the egg, is the time the young ones eat millions of plant lice; after a few weeks good feeding, they get fat, and round, and casting off their first skin appear in their shining beauty coats." "Thank you, Papa, dear," said Amy, I always did love 'Lady birds,' but now I shall love them more than ever." "Papa, may I ask you, do you know anything about snakes?"

"Snakes!" cried Mamma and Aunt Lucy. "Yes, Mamma dear, the poor things everybody hates them, and no one says a good word about them."

"Ow! ow! help! for de Lord's sake!" It was Hetty's voice coming from the cellar. All rushed to the rescue, thinking the poor soul might have fallen. On opening the cellar door, Hetty was seen tumbling up the stairs, her eyes starting out of her head, scarcely able to articulate. "Oh, Miss Allen, de debble is arter me. He down dere, I done seed him plain. Oh! Oh! I'm done frustrated to death!" All tried to pacify the frightened creature, but it was no use. "I'se done gone dis time. My heart's pumpin' out of me!" Mr. Allen went to see what could have given Hetty such a shock, when he too, gave a very undignified yell, as he caught sight of a big black snake. Bolax ran to him, calling out, "Why Papa, what is the matter, what made you screech?" "Don't come down here," called Mr. Allen, "Lucy bring the poker." "Oh, what on earth is it, brother? A snake! I don't wonder Hetty is scared to death."

"Oh, Papa, dear," called Bolax. "Don't kill him. Tommy Hoden gave him to me to put in the cellar to catch mice. I thought Hetty would be glad, but she is such a scare cat."

Mrs. Allen told her sister to give Hetty some valerniate of ammonia to quiet her nerves, and let her rest for the evening; we will attend to dinner; stay with her until she is soothed.

"Bolax, come upstairs. What are we to do with you? Positively you must stop handling reptiles and insects; you will be poisoned some day."

The little fellow listened to all his mother had to say, but seemed surprised that every one found fault when he expected to be praised. "Ma, dear," said he, "I didn't mean to frighten anyone. I'm not afraid of snakes, and Tommy Hoden is a good boy now, since you have him in Catechism class, and he wanted that snake for himself, but he spared it just to please Hetty."

"Well, dear, I believe you would not willingly give pain to Hetty, but you are nearly six years old and it is time you should have some thought about you, say your prayers and go to bed." Bo's prayer:

Dear Jesus, Bless Hetty and don't let her be such a scare cat. Holy Mother of Jesus, bless me and don't let me be doing wrong things when I mean to do right things; help all the poor and the sick, and all the people in the world and don't let anyone be cruel to animals. Bless every one in the whole world, Amen. Oh, I forgot, bless Mamma and Papa and Sister and Auntie, but you know I always have them in my heart. Amen.