THE WISCONSIN FARMER.



  SW   The Italians have this proverb: "      o-
men are wise on a sudden, foolish on premed-
itation."

  ThThe light of the world comes chiefly
from the sun and the student's lamp.

  $WWeakness in a General is the demor-
alization of an army.

            YOUTH'8 CORNER.

            THE BEMVER IRAVIE.
                  TO WAR-BOYS.

                BY XRS. HOYT.

          Little boys, high and low.
          Little boys who wan, to go
          Where the battle rages so,
          Boys so big you scarce can wait,
          Boys to little you must wait,
          To be soldiers of the State,
          You might now be, if you would.
          Soldiers very brave and good,
          Staunch as any ever stood
          Where the bullets fall like rain,
          Where the fag is shot in twain,
          Where they rally once again.
          You may think It would be tan,
          Standing each beside your gun:
          I think most of you would run.
          War is dreadful. Shot and shell.
          Which kill most? ah, whocan tell?
          Not the soldier-boy who fell.
          Now you little hits of boys,
          And you somewhat bigger boys,
          Listen to me, all you boys.
          It Is noble, It Is grand,
          In the Union blue to stand,
          Fighting for your native land-
          Grand to bear the Bag on high.
          And while beaten rebels fi,
          In that holy cause to die.
          But a nobler thing Is done,
          And a grander triumph won
          By many a little one.

          Every time a boy like you,
          Though not dressed in Union blue,
          Tells a story, straight and true-
          Tells the truth in time of danger.
          Tells the same when out of danger,
          Just the truth to friend and stranger.
          It is brave I. nobly (lie;
          'Tia a amoua victory
          To live and tell no lie.



             Willie Tuart Story.

  A few weeks ago I was down in the coun-
try, and went to visit the Pa and Ma of little
Willie Turner.
  Who is Willie Turner! Don't you know?
Ile is a boy about as old and as tall as you
are, and has hair and eyes just like yours-
that is, if you are about six years old, are a
very little higher than the table, and have
blue eyes and brown hair.

  Where does he live? I told you he lived in
the country, and, since you live there too, and
are so near his age and size, I am sure you
ought to know him better than I who live in the
city, and am much larger than he, besides be-
ing as old as four or five of you all together. But
I see that you don't seem to know much about
him, so I will just tell you a few things, and
you may call it a story about Will, and he
may call it his story.
  I will begin by telling you what he did the
most of the time I was there. You must be
very much alike, for he did what you do near-
ly all the time. He ran around after the but-
terflies, not to catch, to chase them-climbed
some trees, not after bird's nests, but to see if
he could; and waded round in the grass,
sometimes on his head, sometimes on his feet,
and all for the fun of it.
  T A.-n' know as I am right in savyin he



spent most of his time in this way. He must
have busied himself a part of that bright af-
ternoon in looking up the very prettiest flow-
ers, the largest bunches of currants, the
plumpest gooseberries, and the mellowest ap-
ples he could find. How do I know? How
does anybody know, when you go out to the
garden and orchard and come back with your
hands full, that you have been looking for
these things. Willie came with his hands full
a good many times, and gave them to me every
time.
  Maybe you think I tell you this so that when
I come to your house you will do the same.
Well, I can't help it if you do. It is so pretty
to see little children ready, and all because
they want to, bringing the prettiest and the



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