generous little girl; we thank her for her offer of prayers, and hope to hear from her soon again.

Another little person, a boy up in Maine, asks us to tell him something about the World's Fair. Well, now, we think that we know a way of getting out of this difficulty. We will call upon our little friends, east, west, north and south, for a short description of the World's Fair; and to the boy or girl who sends us the best description of the World's Fair we will send a beautiful prize in the shape of an excellent book. Here is your work:

Where will the Fair be held? How long will it last? What good will it do? Write this in a letter to us, and we will publish the letter with the winner's name in the May Rosary.

My! My! What a splendid letter we received from a little Rosarian in Haverhill, Mass.! She read "Tessa's Blossom Time" with great pleasure, but thought it too short in January's number. So it was, but we had to make room for something else. Just as it would be very nice to print our little Haverhill friend's letter, but we have no space to spare. We are glad that "Teresa" is fond of reading, and we notice with much pleasure that her favorite author is very popular as a Catholic writer, and we hope soon to give our Little Ones one of his best stories.

We have another letter from "Kitty," New York City. Do you like to have your beautiful name of Catharine covered up in the noiseless, meaningless fur of "Kitty." Well! well! No doubt you submitted to that nickname without a murmur, and thought "Kitty" sounded nice. Now hear how much nicer Catharine sounds!

Well, little ones, you are all attending school, and therefore you have the happiness of possessing the great St. Thomas Aquinas as your special patron: You know that the Holy Father selected him as the universal patron of Christian Schools.

"HE only is great who has the habit of greatness, who after performing what none in ten thousand could accomplish, passes on like Samson, and tells neither father nor mother of it."--Lavater.

"THOSE passionate persons who carry their heart in their mouth are rather to be pitied than feared; their threatenings serving no other purpose than to forearm him that is threatened." -Fuller.

MISS MATILDA MEOW'S ACADEMY.

MARGARET E. JORDAN.

I SAW, one day, the funniest school,
Where Miss Matilda Meow held rule,
In snow-white cap and crisp, white gown-
The daintiest maiden in all Cattown.
I counted the scholars-twenty-one-
The friskiest laddies under the sun;
Their hair was soft as finest fur;

All their words were "meow" or "purr-r-r;"
But such queer lessons as they were learning,
Over and over the pages turning:

"How to catch mice," "How to love birds,"
On the book covers I read the words,-
While "cats" and "rats" and "beetles" and " flies "
Were writ on the blackboard before their eyes.
One lad, with a bible under his arm,
For good behavior took the palm;
The next in a quarrel surely was

The day or the night before, because

His head was bandaged, one eye was closed.
With cigar and high collar another posed
As a genuine dude. Another sat
A-giggling, crowned with the dunce's hat.
One lay reading, with great delight,
A story paper, quite safe from sight
Of Miss Matilda Meow, for she

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Was busy scolding as she could be.
Two were monitors," I knew well,
Entrusted all bad deeds to tell.
One sat rubbing his tearful eyes-
"Reported" thrice-for him no prize.
One naugthy lad in the spelling class,
His own words counted and studied-alas!
Miss Matilda, she skipped them all about-
Not a word did he get that he picked out.
With lips a-tremor, with brow downcast,

From the third place he took the last.
Some little lads were very good,

Kept out of mischief all they could.
Some never left their given places,-
Their fun consisted in "making faces."
But the sauciest scholar of anywhere
Was in that Academy, I declare.

He was ready for mischief any minute,
But never, no never, was he caught in it.
A-laughing he'd set them all, then he
Would quietly turn to his A. B. C.
No one ever on him would "blow".

He "bought" them all with goodies, you know;
Candy he'd bring and pass around-

But never a piece with him was found!

Oh! the funniest sight of all to me
My "Kodak" saved for posterity.

'Twas funny, and yet 'twas wicked, I know;
Master Tom Cute, how could you do so?

I look at the picture and smile at it now,
And softly whisper, " Poor Miss Meow."
While she was a-calling, with cross-grained face,
The lad that failed, "a hopeless case,"
Over the shoulder of her white gown
The black, black ink went trickling down!
Alas! alas! some day you'll rue it!

Master Tom Cute, how could you do it?
Dear me, there was fun in that queer school
Where Miss Matilda Meow held rule!
She didn't invite me, though, to stay-

No matter, I'll call again some day.

"IN doing good we are generally cold, and languid, and sluggish; and of all things afraid of being too much in the right. But the works of malice and injustice are quite in another style. They are finished in a bold, masterly hand, touched as they are with the spirit of those vehement passions that call forth all our energies, whenever we oppress and persecute."—Burke.

"A REAL spirit should neither court neglect, nor dread to bear it."-Byron.

MY FUGITIVE FRIEND.

S. H. G.

It was a fine summer's evening in a grand old city in the south of Europe, and I had gone out for an evening walk. My hall door stood open as usual, and the porter, Luigi, was at his post in the hall, when a gentleman rushed in, and passing him like a flash, bounded quickly up the stairs. Luigi followed him at once, but had scarcely reached the inner door leading to the staircase when others came running in hot haste behind him. He immediately closed and bolted the door from within. "Open! let us in! let us in quickly!" they cried in a chorus as they rushed against the bolted door.

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Easy, my friends, easy- pazienza figluoli," said Luigi with a calmness quite in contrast with their breathless clamoring. "No strangers will enter here till my master comes home."

"But we are no strangers, my man," said one of the besiegers in a very imperious tone; "we are police. The criminal is here and we must get him."

"What!" cried Luigi, becoming indignant; "what have we to do with criminals? Be off! Go look for your criminals where you're likely to find them."

"I command you, sir, to open the door," said the police officer solemnly.

"I tell you, sir, in the name of my padrone that I won't," said Luigi with equal gravity.

"We'll force an entrance."

"Do it if you dare, but I can tell you you're likely to regret it."

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Now, men," said the police officer to his two comrades, "I am going to the station to report the matter. Take no further steps till we get the magistrate's sanction, but take care that the fellow does not leave the house."

In the meantime I returned after my walk and was surprised to find two policemen outside the street door, and the inner door locked. Luigi opened it for me but closed it again carefully without a moment's delay.

"What's the matter, Luigi," said I.