The Fight.

"What's all the noise about down there?" asked Aunt Lucy.

"Dem youngsters is fighten over de puppies, better come down here, Miss Lucy."

Bo was screaming, Amy scolding, and Jess barking and whining. Aunt Lucy hurried down stairs to see what could cause such a commotion.

When she made her appearance at the head of the cellar stairs Amy was pulling at her brother, and Bo, doubled up, was holding one of the puppies in a tight embrace at the risk of ending its existence.

"Stop, immediately!" commanded their aunt. "Children, I am ashamed of you."

"Well, that bad boy is tormenting the poor dog."

"Put the puppy down, Bo."

"Here, Aunty, you stoop down with it, Jess will jump in my face if I go near her nest. I only wanted to love the little thing, and Jess would not have made such a fuss if Amy didn't put her up to it."

"I have a good mind to deprive you both of your ride this afternoon as a punishment for your silly conduct. Go upstairs and let me hear no more quarreling."

After Aunt Lucy and Amy had gone, Bo went into the kitchen to get Hetty's sympathy, she was always willing to listen to her boy, although she was provoked sometimes by his mischievous tricks.

"Hetty, dear, don't you think Amy is an antiquated monkey?"

"Oh, honey, don't call sister names."

"Yes, I will; 'Monkey' is too good for her, I wish I knew of the horriblest animal ever was, I'd call Amy after it."

"Now be a good boy, don't fight no more, and—"

"Yes, I will fight; sister is so wicked; she's just a Mannypochia cobra."

"Oh, law! Massa Bo, that's a awful name. What kind of a animal is it?"

"Well, it's something like a big snake, only fifty times bigger, and it hisses and cracks your bones and—"

"What you gwan do when you go to confession; you got to tell the names you call, and you ain't gwan to 'member dat big word."

"Oh, I'll remember; I'll just say 'Father, my sister was so dreadful, she most broke my bones, so I called her the name of a snake that breaks bones.'"

Hetty laughed, and asked Bo if he was "most ready for his first confessin," telling him he "better don't have too many bad things to tell on other people; Father gwan to tell you: 'Say child you come to tell you' own sins; I don't want to hear what you' sister done did.'"

"But," insisted Bo, "the priest will listen when I tell him how Amy fights over the puppies."

"Better don't, 'cause if you do, Father gwan give you two penances, one for your sins, and another for Amy's sins."

Bolax's First Confession.

Bolax having passed his ninth birthday, his mother thought it time he should make his first confession. Although well instructed and prepared for the great event, he had a dread of going to confession.

It was September 8th, the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin; Mrs. Allen called her boy and told him she had decided on taking him to see a Jesuit priest. Bolax was delighted with the trip to town, but when he got near the church he wanted to run away.

"Oh Mamma, dear," cried he, "I'll go some other time."

Notwithstanding his resistance, his mother compelled him to enter the church. As soon as the child caught sight of the imposing interior, with its Altars, statues and pictures, he seemed suddenly overcome with awe, his whole manner changed, and dropping on his knees, he whispered:

"Oh, Mamma, this is a very holy place! Oh, I can feel God right near me!"

One of the Fathers came down the aisle and entered the confessional; Bolax followed him without any compulsion, and seemed thoroughly impressed with the sanctity of the act he was about to perform.

There happened to be no other penitents, so the good Father came out of the box and spoke to the boy.

"So this is your first confession," said he. "Well, my child, God bless you, and keep your soul ever as pure as it is today."

Then turning to the mother, he spoke about the boy, saying:

"I am greatly interested in my little penitent, and I want him to write to me every two weeks, giving me a report of his conduct."

Bolax promised to write.

After thanking the priest for his kind interest, and helping her boy with his Thanksgiving, Mrs. Allen left the church. Bolax skipped down the steps, and I fear the good people who were at their devotions, must have been very much startled at the loud "Cock-a-doodel-do" given by Bo, as he reached the pavement.

"For goodness sake stop!" cried his mother. "Can't you behave?"

"No, Mamma; I'm too happy. I feel as if I could fly. Confession isn't a bit hard; I'd like to go every day."

Bolax's First Letter.

Dear Rev. Father:

Ever since I went to confession, everybody says I'm worse.

I let my dog out of the cellar, and he most chewed up my sister's dog. Roy, is my dog's name; Trix, is my sister's dog. Roy caught on to Trix, and such howling and yelping never was heard. Sister was so afraid, she hid inside the wardrobe, and every minute she would put out her head and yell:

"Oh, my poor Trix!"

Mamma and the cook tried to separate the dogs. Mamma caught hold of Roy's tail, and Hetty caught on to Trix's tail, and both pulled, but still the dogs wouldn't stop fighting. Then I got a stick to whack them, and I broke Mamma's glasses by accident.

At last Hetty threw a bucket of water on them; that stopped the fight. Hetty says she's 'done flustered to death.' Sister says I'm the awfulest boy in the world.

I haven't done anything bad today, yet.

Your little friend,

Bolax.

The Rev. Father's Answer.

St. Francis Xavier College.
Dear Little Friend:

Even though everyone should say that you have been "worse" than you had been before making your confession, I know that our Lord will excuse you because you acknowledge your faults.

You see, all expected you would be better after confession, and they are much disappointed, because they have not yet seen any improvement.

What a scrape you got into, by letting your dog out of the cellar, and how cruel it was to have poor Trix "chewed up." You were shocked, I am sure, when you found you had hit your mother. Now, how did all this come about? Just because you did not ask permission to let your dog out of the cellar. If you had acted under obedience, you would have avoided all the trouble. Now, this is the lesson to take from your fault.

Do not act without permission, and always obey promptly and cheerfully, then you will be happy; your parents will be happy and Our Dear Lord will bless you.

Hoping to see you soon, my dear little boy, I am your friend in Christ,

Aloysius Rocofort, S. J.

Second Letter.

Dear Rev. Father:

Since my third confession, everyone says I am showing improvement. Papa says it is your letters that make me good. Mamma says it is the grace of God given through confession.

Hetty says, "I do believe dat boy done got religion for sure."

Everybody believes in my conversion, excepting Sister Amy; she says the badness couldn't go so sudden; it is still there. Trix's ear is sore yet; that is the reason she is cross.

Indeed, Father, I feel good. I obey better; I have only to be called three times in the morning, and I don't forget things when I am sent on errands, and I even study without growling.

Dear Father, would you like a pair of white rats? They are lovely pets and run all over me; they eat corn off the top of my head and nibble my ears. If you want them, I will put them in a wire cage and carry them into town the next time I go to see you.

Your loving little friend,

Bolax Allen.

---

St. Francis Xavier College.

My Dear Little Friend:

How rejoiced I am to learn by your last report that you are giving satisfaction to Mamma and Papa, and learning to obey; the greatest of all virtues "obedience," preserves us from falling into other sins.

Sister will come round soon, just let her see you are in earnest, and surprise her by persevering in your good resolutions.

I thank you for the kind offer to give me your pets, but I fear the good brother who has charge of my room would object to rats—white or black—so I must decline your present with many thanks, dear child.

Come to see me next Wednesday, I will be home from 2 to 6 P. M.

God bless you,

Aloysius Rocofort, S. J.

---

St Francis Xavier College.

Dear Little Friend:

What a pity I was not at home when you called. I wished to see you to find out how you had been doing since I last met you. I hope you went to confession to one of the other priests that day.

After Holy Communion, which you are too young to receive as yet, there is no better means to aid you in doing right than a complete and humble declaration of all that you have done amiss.

It is a good thing to say your prayers in the morning, even though you have to be reminded by your mother. I wish you had interest enough yourself to say them without being reminded.

Always your friend,

A. Rocofort, S. J.

A Very Great Loss.

"Aunt Lucy," said Bolax one day. "I had a very important paper, and I cannot find it. I took such pains to write it because it was to go to Father Rocofort. Did you see it? You would know it was important because it was written without blots."

"Indeed, child, I did not see it, ask Hetty; she cleaned your room this morning."

"Hetty, Hetty," called Bo, "did you see a long narrow strip of paper about a yard long, with writing on it?"

"Yes, I done see a paper like dat; it was on the floor of you' room when I go clean it, and the puppy was a chewing of it. I done took it and put it under a book on your desk."

"Oh Hetty, why, oh, why did you let puppy chew up my paper? It had my sins on it."

"For de Lawd sake. Bolax! you' sins! Den I guess de poor little dog done pizened by dis time. I ain't seed him since he et up dem sins, three hours ago. I guess I'll find him lying dead somewheres."

"Hetty, you stop making fun of me; I'm in real earnest. Sins are things people only tell to the priest, or to their mothers, and I don't want mine to be blowing round for every one to see them."

After a great search, the paper was found and Bo inclosed it in a letter ready to send Father Rocofort. When his mother read the contents, she explained that he could not make a confession in that manner.

"Confession must be made on bended knees."

"Well, then Ma, dear, I can't go to town this week, as I have such a cold. I'm so sorry; Father will think I'm getting bad again."

St. Francis Xavier College.
Dear Little Friend:

Your letter of last week has not come to hand, so without waiting for it, I feel I ought to tell you the second thought that came to my mind when I read the letter which did reach me.

You may remember you said these words: "I did not disobey this week, because I was sick."

Now my thought was just this: From what this boy says it would appear that if he were in good health, he would have disobeyed. As disobedience is a sin; a great evil because displeasing to God. What a blessing it is to be sick, if one is thereby prevented from doing anything that is offensive to God.

You are perhaps too young to know that all things that come from God are good in themselves, since God, who sends them, is good.

Did you ever think that sickness, poverty, hunger, cold, sorrow and suffering could be good? Perhaps not. It is hard for a small boy to see that what he does not like, can be good. But if God likes a thing, it must be good, and if God dislikes a thing, it must be bad.

Please try to understand all this, and you will become a good boy and a good man.

Your friend in Christ,

Aloysius Rocofort, S. J.

---

September 1st.

Dear Rev. Father:

I wish you would be so kind as to pray I may be sent to a Catholic school, there is none in our town for boys, but maybe I could get to St. Thomas' College, if they would only take me.

Mamma and Papa thank you so much for writing to me. Indeed it is kind, and it must take up your time. I shall always keep your letters; I love them.

Papa says it is wonderful that the President of a college would bother writing to a little boy.

Your loving little friend,

B. Allen.

---

St. Francis Xavier College.

My Dear Little Friend:

Having been very busy during the week, I have not been able to make an earlier reply to your little biography of the week. One or two thoughts that came to my mind as I read your words is, I think, worth putting on paper.

You seemed to think it remarkable that a man of my age, education and busy life should trouble himself about a little boy. Now I thought you a strange little boy for that, and for this reason. You are a Christian, believing and knowing that Christ died for you; gave His heart's blood for your eternal happiness.

Knowing this as I do, and meditating on the life and work of Christ, and striving so hard to imitate him; do you think it strange that I should take an interest in you, when you allow me? It would be indeed strange if I did not wish to see you grow up a good docile, obedient, kind and high-principled boy, and a brave, true, upright, high-souled man, and do all in my power, as far as you will allow to bring about such a result.

God wants that, your parents hope it; you yourself would like it, if you could get it by wishing, or if it did not cost you any trouble. But it does cost trouble, though it is worth a thousand troubles.

Your friend in Christ,

Aloysius Rocofort, S. J.

P. S.—I will indeed pray that you may be admitted into St. Thomas', although in your case, with such a mother to guide you, the public school might be tolerated.

Bolax Deserves a Whipping.

"Another unsatisfactory report," exclaimed Papa Allen, as he held an open letter in his hand. "This is the fourth since the opening of school in September, and now it is only the first Week of October. Spelling, 30; Arithmetic, 20. Professor too, sends complaints of your music lesson; then you have neglected your rabbits."

At this Bo jumped up and ran out to the rabbit-hutch. Yelling with all his might for Hetty: "Oh, my rabbits; my rabbits are gone."

"When did you feed them last," asked his father, who was looking out of a window. Bo thought a moment, then remembered he had not seen them for several days.

"But where have they gone, Hetty dear?"

"Done turned into air; what you spect dey gwan do when dey has nothing to eat but air."

Then Hetty laughed, and Bo went back to the dining room.

"Excuse me for leaving you, Papa, I am so worried. Indeed, indeed, I didn't mean to forget my pets."

"My son, we allow you to have pets to teach you the lesson of responsibility, which means to keep in mind any duty you have to perform. You do not mean to be cruel, but you are. I have saved many of your pets from hunger and thirst; now I shall do so no longer, neither shall the servants. Your rabbits have been given to Flossy Day, who will always attend to them, because she is a thoughtful, kind little girl.

"On all points you are at fault—lessons, music and pets; all alike forgotten, if there is no improvement, you will be punished for your delinquencies."

Unfortunately at the end of the next week, the report was worse than ever, and Papa was shocked and expressed himself in very severe language. Bolax showed an unusual spirit of insubordination and temper on being reproved, and his father whipped him. The boy was heart-broken; it was the first time a stroke had been laid upon him in his life. His mother did not approve of corporal punishment, but, of course, would not interfere in what her husband thought to be his duty.

Poor Bo felt degraded and went to hide. His mother knocked at his bedroom door, but he would not open it.

"No one loves me any more!" sobbed the poor child. "If Aunt Lucy had been home I would not have been whipped."

Amy went into the room and putting her arms around her brother's neck, told him she would give him her pony "Ben Bolt," for his very own. "Oh, Sister, I thank you, but nothing can take the pain out of my heart."

"I know darling, but Papa is just as pained as you. He said just now, he had rather cut off his hand than hurt you, but you know you would not listen to anything and kept going wild. I tell you what I will do the next time you deserve a whipping; I will stand and take it for you." "I wouldn't let you, dear, sweet Sister; no indeed, but I'll never deserve one again."

"Good night and here's Ma dear, to kiss you."

In the morning Hetty went up to Bo's room to call him for breakfast; his mother had let him sleep late because she was attending to her husband, who had to take an early train for New York.

"Come down here honey," Hetty called again, "Come see the nice fish I'se got for you." Bo went into the dining room and begged the kind creature to sit with him. "You're my best friend, Hetty, dear." "Indeed, I'se your friend. Eat up de fish; it's good, and don't bother lookin' at it."

"Oh, I'm just dissecting it." "What's dat?" "Seeing what's inside of it. Hetty, dear, do you know fishes have spinal cords?" "Cords! land sakes! where dey done keep dem?"

"Oh, up their backs, of course. Here, see this bone, I break it and here is a string that makes the fish move." "Oh, Massa Bo, where you done learn all dis?"

"I heard the A class saying their physiology, and I asked Mamma, and she said we had just such a cord in our backbone." Here Mamma came into the room. "Law bless us, Miss Allen dat chile ought never be whipped for learnin'. He knows lots more now than some men."

Mrs. Allen sat down and explained to the children the different parts of the fish.

This led to an interesting talk. Amy asked if shellfish were stupid, because people often say: "As dumb as a clam."

"Not all dear, there is the beautiful Nautilus; the little mariner and really our first navigator."

Then the mother told of the sea nettle, the razorfish, the cuttlefish, that throws a black fluid out of its body, which darkens the water, and when pursued by an enemy escapes by this means. It is a very useful fish; long ago the Romans used that black fluid for ink.

Bo was so interested, he forgot his trouble, and no one noticed it was past school time.

"I'se just glad," said Hetty; "you children come play dat funny song about de Hoo Doo man, and say dat piece what tells what de school bell talks when it rings."

"Really my son, I am sorry you missed school this morning. It will put another bad point on your next report." "Ma, dear, I'm tired of that old school; it's a girls' school, anyhow. I'm the only Catholic there, and every now and then some one says something ugly about my religion. Of course, I have to fight boys that do it, but I must bear it when girls tell me I adore idols. If you send me to St. Thomas' I'll study hard."

WHAT THE SCHOOL BELL SAYS.

"Why so serious Amy," said her mother; "you look as if you were deeply reflecting."

I have just been thinking of those "wonders of the sea" you tell about.

"Ma, dear, how much you do know; you can tell something of every bird and beast and insect. I wonder if I ever shall know as much?"

"My child, you know much more of this delightful kind of study than I did at your age. Until you were four years old my information on such subjects was very limited."

"And why did you study, mother, dear?"

"I had a strong incentive; I studied because I loved you."

Bolax pressed close to his mother's side. "Oh, Ma, dear! I will study too because I love you."

When Mr. Allen returned in the evening, Bo went to the gate to meet him, and threw his arms around his father's neck, asking to be forgiven and promising to be a good boy in the future. Mr. Allen clasped the dear child to his heart wondering if he had made a mistake in his manner of chastising a boy with such a loving disposition.

That night the good mother told of Bo's desire to change schools.

"That's just what I intended proposing; I had a conversation with old Mathews, who has brought up seven sons. He thinks from what I told him of our son, a change would be just what he requires at present."

A few days after this, Mrs. Allen took Bo up to the College and begged the President to admit him.

"He is entirely below the age, Madame," remarked the President, "we have no pupils under twelve years of age;" however, he allowed himself to be persuaded and acceded to the lady's request on condition that the boy should have a special tutor, which would cost an extra fee.

To this Mrs. Allen gladly agreed, as the child wanted three months of being ten years old and a private teacher was just what he needed.

Bo was delighted to go up to St. Thomas', especially as it meant daily rides on the train.

---