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“Oh Mar,” asked Moses as they passed a brilliantly colored and illuminated poster, “Is them the actor people?”,Another sound in a somewhat higher key was heard. Moses had simply modulated in his domestic symphony of labor from a major task to a minor one. As a change and refreshing recreation, Moses was allowed to turn the small wheat-mill. Ninety soul-stirring turns it required to empty the hopper once, and he must turn out enough flour for a batch of bread. His youthful soul was in revolt at such servitude. He had no sympathy to squander on the children of Israel in bondage vile. Making bricks for Pharoah was infantile amusement compared to his labor.,“Jiminy whiz! This is my very last week of boy; next week I’ll have to be a man,” he said gloomily.,“What’s the matter, Billy? Why don’t you go and play? You surely deserve a fine holiday, my big, big son.” She put her arm around him tenderly; and he saw that she remembered. He would be thirteen to-morrow. He had been counting the days; but he thought mother and sister had been too busy to think of it. It was coming—to-morrow, Sunday! If he didn’t have a good time to-day it wouldn’t be any birthday at all.,“I mix up words that way sometimes, too,” the child excused.,Wait till the clouds roll by,,Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled,’”,Presently the little Chinese boy returned, his grin resumed, and a large basket on his arm.,“Naw,” answered the boy, “What’d Mar say? she’d put a tin ear on me.”,“But where does our fun come in? Girls don’t build railroads,” Bess complained.,“No; I can’t recall what I said.”,“There isn’t any Maskey’s any more,” May Nell mourned; “just ashes and old irons where used to be such oceans of goodies in such beautiful boxes and dishes.”.