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stars came out, one by one, and blinked at him in such a strange way that he began to think he would not like being alone in the night, after all.

Then, up from behind the dark woods, came the big round moon.

higher and higher in the sky, it seemed to be looking right at him. He tried to hide, but everywhere he went the moon was watching him, and seemed to be saying, “You naughty little lamb' You naughty little lamb' " Big black shadows began to move over the fields. He had never seen anything like that in the daytime, and it frightened him. He was too frightened to play now, and he did n't even feel hungry any more. The night wind swept through the field, and the dew came down and wet the grass and his pretty coat and his poor little feet. He was so cold, he shivered. Just then, from out the dark woods

‘‘ HE TRIED TO HIDE, BUT EVERY WHERE HE w ENT THE MOON WAS WATCHING HIM.''

As it rose

“HE COULD NOT KEEP STILL A MOMENT, HE WAS SO HAPPY."

came a dreadful sound. It was the howl of the old wolf. Oh, how frightened the little lamb was How he ran Through the cold, wet grass, over briers and stones, and up the rough, dark road, never stopping till, all out of breath, he reached the sheepfold. The door was shut. He pushed against it with all his might, and cried, “Oh, let me in Please let me in 1" But the old farmer had locked it tight, and it would not open. “Oh, let me in ' " cried the little lamb, as he butted his poor little head against the door. “Let me in ; the old wolf is coming; he is going to eat me up ! Oh, please let me in ' " And the mama sheep heard him, and you cannot think how sad and worried she felt to have her little lamb out there

in the cold and dark, and the old wolf coming, too. “Oh, my little lamb' " she called through the door, “how did you get out there?" And the little lamb said, “I stayed out to see the dark; but, oh, if you only will let me in, I'll never, never be naughty any more." And the poor mama sheep cried, “Oh, I cannot open the door'" And just then came that dreadful sound again, the howl of the old wolf, nearer and nearer. The little lamb heard it; how it frightened him The old mama sheep heard it, too, and oh, how frightened she was for her little lamb “Oh, my child, my child !” she called through the door. “Run, run to the thorn-bush, and creep away under to the very middle, and stay there all night long, so the old wolf will not get you! Oh, run run quickly, my little lamb, my precious little lamb' " And the little lamb ran as fast as he could to the thorn-bush, and pushed away under it, to the very middle, as the mama sheep had told him. The branches grew very close to the ground, and the big, ugly thorns stuck into him and tore his pretty coat and scratched him until the blood came. But he did not care for that or for anything, if only the old wolf did not get him. And there he lay all in a heap, he was so frightened. Just then, up came the old wolf, snarling and growling. He went running and jumping round and round the bush, poking his nose in everywhere, trying to get the little lamb. But the sharp thorns stuck into his nose and eyes, and hurt him so much, he was glad to jump back. Over and over again he tried, but every time the big, ugly thorns stuck into him and made him go howling back. And this made the old wolf so mad that he growled and snarled all the more. The little lamb was almost dead, he was so frightened. Oh, how he wished

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- - s: - he was with his mama safe in the - sheepfold ! - It was dreadful! But at last the long “‘Oh, LET ME IN ' ' CRIF. D. THE LITTLE LAMB.'' night Was Over, and down under the

thorn-bush came little streaks of light that grew bigger and brighter every moment, and at last the old wolf crept away. He could hear him snarling and growling as he ran across the fields, but he was quickly lost to sight in the shadows of the dark woods. The little lamb began to breathe easier now, but still he did not dare to crawl out from under the thorn-bush just yet, for fear the old wolf might come back and catch him after all. So he kept very quiet and just waited for the sun to come up and make it all bright day, for then he knew the sheepfold would open and his mama and all his brothers and sisters would surely come and look for him.

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Then all the little birds began to twitter and chirp, and the morning fresh and cool, rustling the leaves, and bringing the sweet odor of the clover from the meadows; and pretty soon the sun shone right under the bush, and then he heard his mama calling, “Oh, my little lamb, are you there?" Oh, how glad he was to hear his dear mama's voice once more and know he was safe at last! And when he crawled out with his pretty coat all dirty and torn, the good mama sheep just ran up and loved him, and called him her “precious little lamb" over and overand over. And all his brothers - and sisters crowded “JUST THEN, UP CAME THE OLD wolf, SNARLING AND GROW LING." around him and smiled on him, they were so glad to find him safe and sound, and to know the old wolf did not get him. Then the mama sheep took him down to the brook, and washed him and gave him some of the sweetest grass she could find for his breakfast, and let him stay in the warm sun, close by her side, all day, because he had been so cold and frightened all night long. And after that he never wanted to have his own way any more, but did whatever the mama sheep told him, and tried to be a good little lamb.

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‘’ THEN THE MAMA SHEEP Took HIM Dow N To THE BRook, AND was HED HIM.”

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THE wonder-working minds of our clever girls and boys have wrought marvels indeed, this month; and almost all the prize-winners come from the new members of the League, which is very gratifying, and calls for a word of reminder concerning our method of awarding prizes. Competitors, remember, must win the silver badge before they can receive the gold one. Once in a while, as with the present competition, we almost regret the necessity of this rule, for several of the contributions here printed with the familiar(Si/ver Badge)amply deserve the first prize. Let us all agree, however, that the rule is a good one. The successful competitors of this month will be spurred

CH6.
o LEAGUE 'O'

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by it to surpass even their fine introductory performance; and so we shall all be the gainers when, as they certainly will, they win the award that, this time, is withheld from them by the League rule of “Silver Badge first.”

And, moreover, our joy in these October contributions is doubled by the fact that their excellence is not confined to one particular set of workers, but is shared in almost equal degree by the writers of prose and of verse, and by artists with the pencil as well as the camera. Assuredly, we have made “a good beginning ” of another chapter— and let us hope the best—in the League's history and achievements.

PRIZE-WINNERS, COMPETITION No. 152

In making the awards, contributors' ages are considered. > §

PROSE. Gold badge, Elisabeth Haerle (age 13), Osnabrück, Germany.
Silver badges, Marian Stuart (age 14), Skaneateles, N. Y. ; Eleanor Steward Cooper (age 17), Lansdowne, Pa.; Janet
Sheppard (age 11), New York City; Mary Frost (age 11), Victorville, Cal.
VERSE. Gold badge, Pauline P. Whittlesey (age 13), Altadena, Cal.
Silver badges, Janet Hepburn (age 16), Bloomington, Ind. ; Edna F. Wood (age 15), Northampton, Mass.; Edith

Shaw (age 13), Westfield, England. DRAWINGS.

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Silver badges, Margaret L. Ayer (age 17), Philadelphia, Pa.; Florence Fisk (age 15), Springfield, Mass.; Miriam Alice Gerstle (age 14), San Francisco, Cal.

Silver badges, Esther R. Harrington (age 13), Orange, Mass.; Caroline Archbold (age 16),

Syracuse, N. Y. ; Rosamond Howland (age 13), Chicago, Ill. : Margaret P. Cooke (age 15), Paterson, N. J.

PUZZLE-MAKING. 15), Pittsburgh, Pa.

Silver badges, George H. McDonald (age 15), Rock Island, Ill. ; Elsa Anna Synnestvedt (age

PUZZLE ANSWERS. Gold badge, Mary A. O’Connor (age 15), Brooklyn, N. Y.
Silver badge, R. Kenneth Everson (age 16), New York City.

“curiosi ty."

by PAULL. JAcob, AGE 1.7. (HoNo R MEMBER. 1

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A GOOD BEGINNING
BY ELEAN or STEwARD cooper (AGE 17)
(Silver Badge)

A BRIEF fifty-three years ago, the observations of Henri Dunant on the conditions following the battles of Magenta and Solferino, bore ample testimony to a great need, and roused civilization to fill it. At that time, the medical service attendant upon armies engaged in active warfare was appallingly inefficient. Military hospitals were not only ill equipped, but their ambulances, filled with wounded, were frequently attacked and their surgeons captured or killed. They were of purely national character; the hospital flags of one nation differed in device from those of another, and were, as a rule, unknown to the enemy.

To-day the armies of conflicting nations are attended by corps of surgeons and nurses who are competent and equipped to render adequate relief. Their red cross, of

international adoption, is a flag taking precedence of the flags of all nations whatsoever, holding the field in time of battle for the care of the wounded of both conquered and conquering, and standing, in time of peace, for bloodless warfare against ills incident to great disasters.

The Red Cross is a happy example of ideal accomplishment in that it realizes a vision of the past, and leads to the fulfilment of visions of the present. Close to our hearts to-day is the dream of so firm a federation in spirit of nations politically distinct that complete cessation of war and the peaceful arbitrament of difficulties will be possible. We are come to believe that our feeling and our work should be broad enough to be not only national but world-wide. It is a long step on a difficult way—a good beginning indeed—when nations unite to recognize the cause of humanity, and when we are no longer satisfied to translate our good-will to men into localized terms.

A GOOD BEGINNING BY MARIAN STUART (AGE 1.4) (Silver Badge) It is spring, and that magic hour before dawn. The shade-trees on a large lawn are talking with the fruittrees in the orchard. It is not a widely known fact, but trees can talk just before sunrise. Although the trees on the lawn have dainty green dresses, they look enviously at the beautiful ruffled party gowns of the fruit-trees. “You think you look very fine, don't you?" a particularly tall maple queries. “Wait until next fall. You have the good beginning, but we have the best ending. ‘He who laughs last laughs best '''' “Well,” a saucy little apple-tree drawls sweetly as she shakes out her fluffy pink skirts, “I never saw the sense of that proverb. I 'm sure I would as soon be gay and beautiful now as to wait—” but the sun is rising, and their hour of enchantment is over. It is autumn, and the same magic hour. If the shade

“cukios11 y." By caroline ARchbold, AGE 16.
(silver BADGE.)

trees had to wait until they were matrons before ap-
pearing at their best, they have waited to some purpose.
The lawn is resplendent with trees in gowns of rich
reds, yellows, and browns.
The fruit has been gathered from the orchard, and
nothing is left the fruit-trees but a few dry leaves and
memories of a happy summer.
A particularly tall maple in flaming red looks over at

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