children loved him. He sauntered up to the front, with his hands behind his back, and a very grand manner.
"The beautiful poetry recited here to-day," he drawled, "put some verses in my mind that I never had till I came here to-day." Every one present cheered wildly, and he began, in a sing-song voice:
"I am a Band of Mercy boy,
I would not hurt a fly,
I always speak to dogs and cats,
When'er I pass them by.
"I always let the birdies sing,
I never throw a stone,
I always give a hungry dog
A nice, fat, meaty bone.
"I wouldn't drive a bob-tailed horse,
Nor hurry up a cow,
I"
Then he forgot the rest. The boys and girls were so sorry. They called out, "Pig," "Goat," "Calf," "Sheep," "Hens," "Ducks," and all the other animals' names they could think of, but none of them was right, and as the boy had just made up the poetry, no one knew what the next could be. He stood for a long time staring at the ceiling, then he said, "I guess I'll have to give it up."
The children looked dreadfully disappointed. "Perhaps you will remember it by our next meeting," said the president, anxiously.
"Possibly," said the boy, "but probably not. I think it is gone forever." And he went to his seat.
The next thing was to call for new members. Miss Laura got up and said she would like to join their Band of Mercy. I followed her up to the platform, while they pinned a little badge on her, and every one laughed at
