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NY  PUBLIC  U8HAR 


THE  BRANCH  UBRARI  S 


3333219793219 


k   V 


^u^fl 


HARPER'S 


YOUNG    PEOPLE 


188 


3 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER     &     BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE 


18 

tf  N0> 

VouiHOfcTtONS. 


Copyright,  1;  ''3,  l>y   HARPER  &  BROTBKRS. 


INDEX    TO    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


AccmRNT.  An: — "  He  pinched  just  as  hai.i  hee,mM 
pinch,  "601. 

Anns  are  tired,"  '2s|. 

Alllha.—ador    A   easlauay  — ••  Tie        ,    ,  one    Ol 

I  In-  Inlet'l'i  eh  a  -  1\  mi,'  dead. ''  14o. 

A! a|s    Ilia'    -lid,'   ,|,,\\ll    hill.    Ill''    l|lle,T    hltle     -JH'.l 

Alllelope.  I  lrv\,  and    Leopard.   L'neoimtfr    between   ;ui. 

701. 

\i  t     He  Maidens.  Three   528 
Audience    \  small  i".'  select,  3  '''.'. 
August,  i.i" 
Am  'nun.  7'24. 

BAIUKS: — ••Tin1  Moment  ih.  v  saw  the  P.aliy  ihev  saal 
MI.  mosl  dre  >dl  il  I  liings  '  12  :  M\  Bo 

r.l'.s  ;    our   l:,d.\     r,:l-  ;    Tin-  Creche,  7-10.  717  ;    'I'll.- 

Baliv  Kniglii.  ,  '  : .   Ba   '   ,  i ...,  ,|  .,-  he  lilted  her 

, nil.',MIII. 
Rallonl,         \   BOJ    v.   Mi  bright  Idea-   I'n.'.'. 

l::n II.IIM  -  |,n,i,  il. ii.  ir,s 

H/iTi,  i-y   Who's  your.  ll">. 

llaiiniin's  bright  Markers  -27'',;  Winter  Quarters,  297. 

Has.-  Ball  at  Scrcai  bl     .,  N  hes).  749. 

I:  il    Ml      i  li.,.e|      in1     Adv, .nun,-  w,lh   I  he    7!''. 

Hal  Ho  I  i. 'Id  "I  ih"  Revolution,  Ihe  m-i    136. 

Bean-Shooter.  A  new  Kind  ol    i'.7'2, 

Hear,  M.i;ik.'\  ,  and  *'al  -  "  Let's  _"  I"  Bed     '813 

I1..!. n  r.i  i:      108;   i  lie  i:.  .1-  and  iln'  llnnt.-r 

M.in.  ; ;,;  .   Bei i .  n.  i  i     i', n, ,1.1,  m  n.n  - 

7+7  ;   Initial,  791;  -Well,  now,  thai  ii 
79  ' 

111"      ll;\  inn  MII-  049. 

Belladonna,   \l  ropa,  77'2. 

Heir.!,    Ml      A  CO   .'  for,  612 

Hilly  makes  a  Home  I: 124 

Uiiii.s:  -iiir  I  ]\  Catcher  '•>  •  .    1" 1  n-    the  .ni'han-. 

I  II  I   III.'    i    .1.1      . 

Crow,  2ns  ;  'Tin-  i  ..it  i. -i  r-  '  ..n    -j'js  -,    "Make 
li.i  i,-,  Hini:.' ;    Haggle's  Aim    are-  th od,"  2M ; 

A   Saw  .  .,'  '  ,    Crin-l 

S|,,a  I       II'          M.,l  lea     I  l\    ]       II-.        \  II       I 

i.i"i    1,1...'.;     :         ,   ;i  ,:,"' 

521;  Hou  III-'  <iuU  weni  to  Singing  >.  Innd.  and 

uhii  can l  n  "'!";  Hi'\v  lln-  Hirds  Irani  In 

629;  M  in  "i  IVai  i: 

•     Blind,  !!'•  t  '  In-  s  lid  Bofllj    '  7.'i7. 

r.. Mr  i  in  n    upon  the  Do     Mi.'   L52 

11", ll      ElOUSC        111     I.    -"I.   n'JIP. 

BOAI  \llll     I,'!,     MTandileil    lip    Ih,.     I:  J...IIIL:.''    1  ; 

Tin-   LOSl    I1"'- 1    "I     .:,     I"  I '  'I   ' 

linn  i,l  Hi,'  i: 

'IT  i|i.  A.  ('.",i,:   I  .and  of  Now] I  i 

l'.\      '     ,'M          III,'    -i  re\V      I'l,, [nil, 'I'    |li\e     lllllstrA 

tions),  7:i'j. 

I'.olile,      "  Mill  il  \ dy  knew,"s21. 

iiai.v      I'll,-  Bab)  crowed.  MIL 

Honk",    ll.ihdav        "  I'., ,11   "1    III,'    \  ,  :..,.!., 1.1,.      '  11,1    1,1. II,: 

lln'  Nation"      "  I  hddn-,  I  lamp-,  and  rot"  —  ••  liny 

•     .  n.. i      '  sin 

II, ,,,!;,  llr-  I'l.  I I.V!. 

I1,,..,   K  iug,  ih,-  sad  Story ofa  -77. 

Bo]     On 

l;..\  WITH  minim-  hirlv   \;   .Walking  on  Water  with 

r,, ik  -Ii,"     '','  :,   1 1,,.  Walk  I'M,,    '.i...  i,  669 

I'.ivaku       Ah.' ,n I       Win  I,  II 

111  I.I     .'   I1' I.    'I"     I  Ii.     I     .         , 

i: I,,  ri.n  MI-  in  Hi.-,  OM. 

Hllrgll.TS  prepare  I.I  drl.'nd   111.,  r  City.  Til,      II',- 

Burning  of  Hi,-  ••  NVw  Horn, "The,  204. 

Biillrrlln-s.  a  1-1;   A  My  in:;  I1,,],,  a   Butterfly,  7.V2. 
r.\  i    i;,i;,v  Bunting!    l  > 

C.\.il:  I'.ir  \\  h:l.'  Mi,',-.  5S9. 
CAS  i"  \\  I >vvs:— 707.7-21.  747. 

tan      tCr  Slide  I  a-(er  and  la-ler  Ill,  V  II, "A. 

laid     II \  ri      1,!,.     ...  I 

'    .in  val-Time— Little  Colonial!    240 

i1, i   il'     :n  Hi"  Air.  Building,  LSI,  Is,,. 

Cila|inll.   I'll.-,  .Sll!). 

t'ata-!ni|,h<'.  A,  177. 

CATS:  —  Vf~    I'u-     ran  axvay  with  n  I-'ish  from  a   lt,i\ 
320;    LiUlo  Milksops,  1I-J1;  U.inn.l  Hie  World   in 
EiL'liiy  Si-rnii.N   345;    why  iln-  i', us  of  Japan 
have  mi  T.-i  Is.  :iiu,  :i<i.i:  Sly  I'nssi.-s,  4i«i;  I. ml,. 
Fannie  and   li.-r   I'.'ls    in;,    Mmlri    and  Tnll.'l, 
41ii;  An  inlci  rii|il,'.l   I.-SMIM,  4SM:   Thi.r  lii,-s  i,, 
lill  lln-i'al    1M:  ciiinli'ii  I'urty.  A.  I'.i',  i.  '    Ll    Kil 
l.'li-,   and    II, 'ii      An    a,l,)|,t,.,l     !  ainil\'.    7r,'.l  :     1'al 
and   l:,,\  II,,\\    ha\  r  \    MI  I n    "   Sim, 

CENTRAL  PARK:— A  familiar  Spring  1'n-i ,  4:i-j  ;  In 

ivnlral  I'iirk.  4-1S;  Aninnd  Stndirs .  i;i7. 

Cliall.-ni;.'.  Tln>.  a'J'.i 

(Tiarh-s  I  ,  The  clid.lri-n  i.f.  7:!7. 

CTiililren  ol'l'liiirl.'s  I  ,  Tin'.  7:17 

ClIIU.ST.MAS:  —  A  rhii-Mni-  lifrain.  and  limv  it  ranin 
true,  da ;  Th.-y  .'ann-  lu  U.,ik  n,  .vnn.lcringly  al 
the  pretty  Giver  d'  ih,-  F.-asi.  si  ;  T.i"  much 
Chrisiinas  IMnn.-i-.  s",  ;  Willn-'s  chr  slnias,  s.s  ; 
Tin-  Shrine  of  St.  Nu'lioliis.  «9  ;  The  (Jirl  who 
savcfl  up  Chrishnas  —  Christinas  at  IVar.Mlili- 
Court,  !>7;  Chnslinas  at  Minty's  and  Kasty  s 
Home,  lou;  Transforming  Cleopatra  into  ;i  Mon- 
key, 100;  "Wo  built  the  biggest  Snow  Man  I 
ever  heard  of."  I'll;  Tin-  Christmas  I'raj.-r.  Ml; 
Christmas  Knight,  A,  105;  Dave  anil  the  ''Pan- 


ni.\"lns:  Christmas  Greens,  112;  Jack's  Christ 
-••"•kini:.  T2s;  The  Toy  .shop  Windows.  137; 

A  din-Una-  i' in, I,  144;   What  St.    Nielmlas  lor 
got  and  si  Vali-nline  reiiieinb..'n-(l.  2'1~>. 
Christ.  I'll"  Boj  -'Hi"  Holy  Family.  >vtr>,  S37. 

.1.     1'JO 

•      Tun  thai  may  Kill.  741. 
Cinderella.  The  Story  ol.  :)77. 

^ii.ii  becai r  a  Hoy  \\ini  j<un,.,i  Hie.  so. 

rhe  new.  *.!•_>. 

Clown  ^i\'inu'  l>iil>y  some  Milk.  7.5:!. 
Coasting.  ln|. 

i  lobbler,  Th"  cross  "M   -"  lle.-n  -Latins.  hi'V?"  -2">7. 
Coins.  <  istrations]  7,,i. 

I  'ololiial-.  I. Hllr  —i     i  ni\  al   I  mi,.   '240. 

Colls  «  ill  L    *  . 

I  'mil'.   ,'  '  s  IS. 

Concerl    \  M  idsnmmcr  Night  -  r,'2i 

C «rt,  'Mil'  -"  I'll. -re  uas  the  awfiilest  1  :-Iit     '  .1  • 

Ii..  lillle.  T.'.ii 
Coral   Heels— All  Atoll.  'JH. 

CoXl         i  ,.u   li..|inj   To!.  rni-,l,':i-ant  Snr|ir:M-.  71fi. 
n  .  THE:— 71(i.  717. 

,  T  (lour  illustrations),  600. 
'  ''ing.  208. 

Ciin,]  .  j,,,i  r,  44a 

\  short.  ('.72. 
. 

: 

I  nn  on  the  l.v.  -2'24. 
Cuilj   II, 'ad    l.a 

H\ISII 

1    Ham,'  Ti   ,1     I. mi, 

I  >  ,n r  olden  Ti Vo.  241. 

i'  i      Ship  -"See,  the  Men  are  running  down!"  417. 

• 

He  I'!    id'  Years,  A  —  "    IB 

I'. Ml  ion   I 'ay—  Wai  eh  MIL;  111,'  I'l,  „'.        ,,]!     I,',' 

:  I;.  IMi'k's —I.iLihUo.'I  ;uid  Ins  ('.inijiiini,,!.      ,     D 
He    .'",  7I'I 

I  '      l  L    I1  Mi,'        Hie    l;,,v   Ihal    dors    Krrallds 

.     ••  -Hallo.!"       ,1          '    .  H:rk."('i7.i; 
I .    .  .  .          I 

was  a  ta'ai      3ir,"  To1.': 

"  You  Ihou.  I  LWU]    liom  in,-,  did  \  ..'I  '•" 

7'ja;  ••  rh,->  :  .  ih,.  desolate  Road 

711:  •-  -He',,  l  I  11,1  .;;    "This 

Lory.'    f76;      1 1.    w  a 

laid  ,,n  a   I   ,  ,  '  il,    ,  ,  ,  iiied  to  feel 

si  J, 

•n.  GOO. 

I'  dn  i  care  a  r..i.  f2'24. 
I'  ,.|,i  c,  Sketch      it,  7is. 

I     .  ier'   '     I'',  :     (.ran,li',,|,  r-. 

Please    \l      •-  nila  <  Tans,  \\hal  you 

[he  Boar  inni-  n|i.,n  Hi    Dog, 

:  i.  k,  II,,-    Hill,  I,,  i       I',,       L.    .     i  i 

:•     ".  i       •  • i ; . .  •  i  .  i 

hind,1    248;    H.n  ninn'.- 
Ih,'    M,,ll>r  and   III,'  Mai  l,'\\ 

I'., ,n,.    ..  ii.    vl    i    i-,,:    Ipt  ,l  Joke  352;  The  Itam- 

i    I', ,^      I  ;a\  aid.   I'JI  :    lalll,-    I-'.innie  and 
Ilia     PelS      l.'il'.    An    llilenaipled    I.es-oll,    Isil;    The 

ch  ,11, .n-,'    a^1.'  :    Kieh  iind   Poor   ,••:'•:   Sear.hinK 
l,, r  Travellers  l"-t    in  He-  snow.  t;i-2  ;    I'nppv's 

lii    i   I,.,;   II,-  i;.::l;  A  Hid Id  Hover.  Ci',17;  Dog 

and  Hen  — lhe.\  I  he  lillle  Hun  iwa]  I. '-'  In-  II  OHM'. 
7a2:   inn    n,  u    Ii ||, m   he  ,1  ,1  pull"    nil.-,. 

r,,\  hop  Windows.  137  ;  Sa\\,lnsi  T'ra^e.h. 
..i .  Costume  im  Polls.  r,4-2:  I. ml.-  1'ntz  and 
hi-  Soldier  II..M.  :..|s,  (.arden  I'arly,  i'ii;.".. 

Donkeys— In  Central  I'ark    1 1- 

••  I'on'l  .-"old.  Ilenny  1'enny  "etc  .  71:;. 

Iirau  iiif,'— An  uneasy  Suli.!-"  i    525 

Ill-earn   Ka"s    772. 

h Willie's  Dream  after  tlie  Show,  368. 

llrmk.  A  ,  .,,,1    601 

IM-i  KS  •— A    Study  in    N'atural   History,   088;    "  Iion't 
srold.  Henny  1'enny. "etc.,  71:1. 


EGG-SHELLS: — "Ifhrokeu  Egg-Shells  arc  not  crn:  lied 
etc. .  :«0. 


Egyptian  l  tui.i  and  uoat.  liB, 

la  a. en  \\i-.s :— The    M, -pliant-keeper' 


'•  l''.\,T\  Season  hath  its  Pleasures,"  7'24. 

Kxp.-nmenl.  A  pleasnm.  4'2I. 

Kxpiess,  The  last— The  Dash— The  Smash 


l,  008. 


"FAIRIES,  The."  404. 

Fairy  Armor,  :.II7.  alls.  509. 

Family,  An  adopted,  709. 

Fan-,  Japanese,  576. 

Farm  Pensioners,  205. 

Feast.  A  min_'nilieent,  77. 

Fence.  Walkim;  the.  41H. 

Fir,-,  The  Forest— Canadian  Days,  721. 

Fire— "Where's  the  Fire?"  604. 

Fire — "  Yes,  let  us  run  for  it,"  825. 

First -of-April  Joke,  A,  352. 


FISH  Axn  FISIUNC: — Tommy's  fishing  Adventure,  240; 
"  It  was  Hi,  biggest  I'n  kerel  ever  seen  in  the 
Lake,1'  .vjo  :  "1  \e  ^ol  a  Whacker  this  Tune, 
sure."  f.44;  The  Spider  ••  Monilor  "  r.7'2;  Tail- 
l'ie,  e.  :.7.::  All  about  Cold-Fishes,  03C>,  052;  Fish- 
ing in  the  Brook.  07U. 

Flirtation.  A.  -25. 

Fl.OlilO  AM.   Fl.dKKI.LA:  — 129.    I  la. 

FLOWElts  AM.  PLANTS: — The  Voices  of  the  Flowers,  13; 
An  Ann ful  "ti'o>ies  i;;-j ;  1,0,-uvt  Hraiieh  awake- 
Locust  [Irani  h  :.>],.,•[,  — Miin.i-a  awake  — M  imosa 
ii.~leep-Yell.nv  Clover  awake — Yellow  Clover 
asleep  — Common  \\lra,.  Clover  awake  —  I'.un- 
mon  While  Clover  asleep,  i,,i ,  I  i\ , a  \\,'rts.  :i72; 
"Ooes  oo  love  Itutler''"  516;  The  |.|..\\er 
Puzzle,  fills.  The  Flower  Mis.-ion  — A  ver>  small 
Branch  of  the  Flower  .Mission,  l'.2a;  ••  '  I  want  this 
\  me  '  he  answered,"  fill. 

Fly-Co    her,  The  :;:i 

Foal's  litst  Reception,  Our,  705. 

I' Hall.  7:1.  Slli, 

l.ii,.  ^n  Paris— ••  They  are  pulling  the  Mules  out,"  325. 

Fort  on  Ibbott's  Hill,  The— The  flrsl  Alia,  k.  PJO. 

I  ,i\.          4  New    Yen"     Call   ill  I  he  Woods.  158. 

Freezing  Elfecls    P."i 

ITeneli  Fete  s.  ,  n  .  al  a,  553. 

"  Frisky. ".!'J7. 

Fritz,  Little,  and  his  Soldier  Doll.  548. 

Full  thai  may  Kill—  i'lyarclles,  741. 

t,'  VI   Ml    \   and   \'\  L'lnallon,  7.SS. 

iiiinlrii  Party,  i,  665 

i;,'Klleman  Jiiek's  He\-enL,'e.  :HI. 

<.",.mel|-\      T  lie    e,,|,llll    (Jallle   ol,    al'2. 

i.h,,-i    \  Portugm  -.•.  "i''.1.'. 
Cirls.  Cood  natiired.  S:I'2. 

ui. I  I  he  MIOW  Man,  The,  1S9. 

COATS: — Kgyptian  Child  and  (ioat,  OH;  Sports  in 
Shanu  1'ie.Mi  Hilly  make  a  I  l.uno  Kuu,  024. 

Gold-Fin  l.,'  .  7'.ui. 

(lorn  FISH,  ALL  Aiidt-T:—  0:10.  i',:,'J 

"G I  lly '"Tin 

(7oosE:— "Till '     Sir! "300     I  i..  ,,   •   >'il,]ee!.  525. 

Corilla.  The.  -2111. 

(Jossamei -•   :l"l 

(.1.111. Itn  iimna'-  SiTmol  I'aj'.s,  301. 

Grandpapa's  I  o^\  /-T,  tin. 
Grand  Trunk  Line.  The,  :l(ll. 

i: dj    Hi.  Ii  ml    s:l-2 

Grumble  Town,  Che  Fate  "l1,  i'.i!7. 

iTlMi— Having  his  Hair  enl   r,ls 
"  Hardly  w.uTli  dam  me'   (,l.  (,    Hiown,  N.  A.),  313. 
llai  e  and  Homids.  '217. 
IlaVden  aird    111-  edneated  I'ie.  71)1. 

Hen  ami  Kittens,  7T.9 

Hermit  .d1  Mn  — insMlle  \V I.  The,  280. 

ii. -I...      Cwo  obscure  188 

"lie  \\'a     la  ,1  mi  a   Lounge    in  OIK-  of  the  quietest 

Room       196 
Hey,  in.idie.  ihddie, -29. 
Holy  Fannlv,  The.  S'tli,  837. 
Home    l:eaiil\     all. 

Home,  iii  sighl  "l.  ':iii 

[li.i    e-Car      I  he  I  Ille  \ressen»er  id'  Love,  712. 
HdlisKs: -Tn  rn  'IK  IheS  lahie-   :inl;  Colls  wall  he  Colls, 
^  lamiliar  Spring  1'i.ai n  Cenlr:il  Tjirk, 

l  -          '  tT-i-ky,''  497  ;    A  eool  Drink,  001  ;   Our 

i       '     I rst  Reception  7nf,. 

Ho'    nil,  a  dull  dill,'    005. 
Hounds.  The  Charge  ofthe,  552. 
House  lloat.  In  a.  MI4.  S-2II 

,    pel  III"    lillle.     I'll', 

"  II,,\\   ll  i\  e  \  oil  lieell  V"  sillll. 

Hun Ier   the  young   \dle>  l,,r.  777.  S2^. 

Hunting— "This  Day  a  Stag  must  die,":!,S4. 

IrK.  Frx  fix  TIIK:— Blindman's  llnir.  192;  Curling,  224. 

hull. in-.  Two  little.—  CaiTito  and  l.uzita,  376. 

Illl'illlt  Class.  The.  41!. 

"IN  HoxiiK  Iliirx-D":—  549,  501,  577. 

"  Is   It    Peaee  ,ST7. 

"It  won't  shut,"  672. 

JACK  FrtdST — "  Y'on  can't,  come  in,"  193. 

Jack  Horner  (Hoy  Doll).  814. 

Jewelry  Manufacture— Learning  a  Trade,  136. 

Jewish  Maid  <d  Morocco,  A,  450. 

.IiMii.Ks  (illustrated):— '29,  45,  01,  173,  253,  349.  400.  47", 

494,  557. 
June.  49(1. 

"Juno."  The  Wreck  of  the,  1. 
Jury,  The  Snow-ball,  220. 

KAKEMONO.  -27 -J. 
•    Katie's  Work. "533. 
.  .     Cauliflower,  H!. 
Knm's  Conn.  253. 
KITES:— Diagrams.  475.  470,  492. 
Kith.  Km.  and  Kisses.  312. 
Kitten's  Party,  The,  810. 

LACROSSK.  The  Game  of.  425. 

Land  of  Nowhere.  The,  070. 

Land  ofthe  Fez,  The— A  Jewish  Maid  of  Morocco,  456. 

Lawn  Pool,  A  Game  of,  090. 


VI 


1 1\  D  E  X. 


Leopard  and  Antelope,  Encounter  between.  761 
Lesson,  .An  interi-upied.  4so;  The  first  I.e>-ou.  689. 
Let  go  your  Anchor!—"  There  was  a  swift  Katile  of 

Chains    a  tremendous  -  pla-ll   "  41'!. 

"' Let's  go  to  Bed, '  said  S|oe|,y-Kead."  ;>13. 

"  Lie.  I  i  an  nut  tell  a."  2.1u 

Light-House — Birds  Hying  against  the  I.:ght,  72. 

Light-House.  How  Phoebe  ki  |<I  the.  7ss. 

laillr  Fatime  and  her  Tots.  436. 

Little  Girl  of  the  "Fresh  air  Fund."  The— "The  Fairy 

1'lare  where  hai-ios  grew,"  Glo. 
Little  Housekeepers.  Tho,  4%. 
Little  Maid  .Mary.  494. 
Liverworts— 1,  Leaf—.'.  Fart  ofLeai'.  Magmlicil— 3,  Leaf 

cut   through   one    Koom  of  Floor  — 1.  Seed    Disks, 

Vegetable  Bottle — 3,  Pocket  Disks— 0,  Cupulc,  or 

Nest,  ::T-J. 

Load,  Such  a  heavy.  2:17. 

LOST  CITY.  THE: — "Over  wo  1:0  again!"  7Sf>;   "Come 
down,  you  young  Monkey,    MII'.,   "  Is  it  Peace,'' 

S17. 
Luz  de  Bogota.  La  (Humming  Bird).  321. 

MACHINIST'S  Trade.  Learning  a,  292,  203. 
Maidens  Swinging,  044. 

MARIILKS.  AND  WIIEKE  THEY  COME  FROM  : — 370,  380;  HOW 

in  play  Marbles. — Diagrams,  395. 
May,  432. 

Jlay- 1  P..V  Fete  at  Beverly  Hill.  The,  401. 
Ma  v  tbieen.  t  !row  inn-  ill.    i".1 
Messenger  .it  l.ovc.  The  luilr,  71 2. 
M'-tal.  Work  in  Sheet.  1.S2. 
MICK:— Magiiilieciit   l-'ea.-l.  77;  Mice  at  Tea,  461;  Cage 

for  White  Mice.  ana. 
Mike's  "  poor  rich  Boy.  "37. 
.Milkmaid.  Tile.  Bl. 
Milk-op-    ],  -il. •   321 

Minuet.  The— Ve  Dance  of  olden  Time,  241. 
Ml.-hap.  A.  :.T1 
Monkey.  Dog.  and  I'll  (Too  Sellishl.  S2'.l 

Monkeys.  Tlir  King  oi  ilir    The  Monkeys  destroy ing 

.iheer  Narr.v's  Maize  Field,  0^4. 
Monkey  Trick.  A,  448, 
Monogram  Puzzle,  .vjs 
.Morning-Clones  and  Shoes,  641. 

MOSI      iu  tin1  Hiilrii^h 

Moili-  t  in  rolleiliiu.'.  -'.no. 

Mouse  anil  ihe  Mallow  II.  .11.', '1  lie,  320. 

Mower,  i  tie  lazy,  ,-m 

Ml!.  GurilllV's  ill. II   I'OOKET-  U.IOK  :—  513,  516. 

.Mr  Tl ipsoii  and  1  h'-  Kill-,  ^:vi. 

Mullcl  and  Tullet.  44(1. 

'I     .        '  They  are  pulling  'lie  Mules  0111."  32.Y 

Muscat,  Tin-  City  ol,  21.'. 

Mi.su-:-   A  small  bin  ,-el.vt  Audience.  ::r>9  ;    l.iille  Mu- 
sicians  4'jn;   llo\v  llird-  Irani   to  Su,-,  r.2'J. 
MUSICIAN.  ["HE  COURI  —332  .:  i:; 
Mus.-cl,  Cilia  on  the  Gills  of  a,  PJ7. 

NAN:— 1.  2s.  H   53,76,92,  in'..  I:::;.  116    1 6.1   183,204, 

213,  2.12.  212.  -J6I.2M    800 

Na-m\ih  -l.inii  -   laiu'iuoer — "The  Fairies,1' 404. 
Natural  II  storj     x  Studj  iu 

N.mulily  litlle  Girl,  l-'or  a.  s.;-_'. 
N'alltllus,  The.  .142. 

.\KiiltoEs:--"  Korlet  Aek" — The  Hoys  emptying  Stock- 
ings.117;    "  I  toll  you  dat  dis  i  ihn.  ..a  j,,i 

"New  Horn."  The  burning  of  the.  2t;4. 
\Ku-Vi.;\i:       Cakes.  113;   "1  wi.-liyou  a  hippy  N'ew- 
yeai        t1.1  -   i  '  .  •   ,       ected  New-Yea 

I  I1.';    A  \.  w   V.'  ii  s  i  :,ll  m  the  W I-    IIS. 

Nightmare  allri  a  Di\   s  Kublilt  Hulitinu'.  l''red's,  192. 

Xina's  l;.ib\      \lt    K.iiu-.lrll  :unl  l  he  l:,il. 

North  Wind  dolh  l>lnw,  Thr    :r.i 

Norway.  \Vinter  .Sports  in — A  Sling-Sled,  221. 

Novii  .'    I'll',  '.i 

Now  lor  Work,  70S 

NfKsKitv  Knv.MEs  (sec  "Jingles"'}. 

Nutting.  7S4. 

"On,  what  Fun'"  MS. 

(  H-  i 's  Ki.l..     (i  I -a  .-pre.  ling  away  over  the  World,  121. 

opinions,  tuo.  7S1. 

Orchard.  The  old — Hiving  the  Bees,  etc.,  649. 

Orphan  Girl.  The,  393. 

Orphans.  Feeding  Ihr  .... 

orph.ii.    I   . 

i  >:  In  .     ij r  lillle  Animals  that  slide  down  lull,  209. 

"  Over  w.'  L-o  ,-cruu ' 
Owl— Mother  Ow!,  448. 
Owls  at  Singing  School   ,1  In. 

PALETTE.  The  Fame--  768 

Parasol— Her  Para  ..I  7;i4 :  A  scrub  P.are.  763. 

Parr..!        •  II. a.'  i.-t  de  right  Prisoner,"  4DO. 

Party.  Alter  Ihr  368 

Parly.  The.  x:t± 

Pawnei.  .In.-  in  pursuit  ofthe  Kidnappers,  2GO. 

I'e  irork  alnl  tllr  3ea     I  llr.   ll:t. 

"1'EAKi.."  KvtsiM;  THK:— Captain  Sammy's  Offer,  27:1; 

"I'm  Tin. mas  Tin  kcr," -js-.l ;  <  iprti  Piracy.  ;io.1 ; 
"Why  didn't  \ 'how  "rm  all  up-'  :'.24  ; 

"They  ve  stepped  "ii    ..mi.  Sea  rrrluns.  that's 

all,"  .111,  '  I  In  I'.uat  hiiii-  tor  ;i  .-•  nule  Instant 
over  I lir  Reel  357;  Tin-  ,n  nval  ol  i  he  regaling 
Parly.;l7:i;  Working  on  the  Hafts.  :ls.1;  The  Hoys 
discover  the  Pirate,  405 ;  •  Now-  thai'.-  \\  hat  I  call 
Businc.-s."  4js;  "Tho-o  on  shore  set  up  a  loud 
Shoul  of  tri  .  no:  Liking  m  Stores,  M.I; 
••  ll's  me— '1,  .  In  l,.a— an'  I'm  awful  hun- 
gry." li1.1.!;  "Sudden)}  thej  i  ',  '  iplain  Sammy 
tlu.ov  the  Harpoon,  1^1  ,  Cipt;n]i  Sammy's 
overlioard  !  "  .104;  "You  have  saved  my  Life, 
I, a. I,  '  .117;  The  Spectre.  530;  "Hale  tired  at 
him  quirKlv."'  5:12  ;  "  Fvery  one  save  Captain 
Sammy  was  hurled  from  his  Seat,"  556;  "The 


•Pearl's'  all  right!"  505  ;  The  Boys  adding  to 
Ihe.r  Stock  of  curious  Birds,  .IMS  ;  "Dare  was 
tugging  away  at  the  Cable."  fil  14  ;  The  larew.-ll 
Dinner  with  Captain  Sammy.  IVJO 

PERIL  AND  PRIVATION: — The  \\inl,  ,.i  thr  -Juno.1'  1 ; 
A  castaway  Ambassador.  140  ;  The  burning  of 
the  "New  'Horn,'  2li4;  In  sight  of  Home,  536. 

Pet  of  Ha-  Regiment,  The,  481. 

Philosopher.  A  little.  4. 

Photographing— A  good  Subject,  396. 

Pickerel.  The  disappointed,  520. 

Pidurc-Book,  The.  153. 

Picture  wanted.  -V.  SUO. 

Pigeon,  The  Carrier.  22     '    -' 

PIGS:— Unexpected  Results  of  Jimmy's  Efforts  to  trap 
Pigs,  20S,  Master  Grimier  slid  lo  School  on  his 
Slate.  3211;  "Take  care,  Sir!"  300;  Haydeu  ami 
his  educated  Pig.  701. 

Pillow  Fight,  A — "  I  never  was  so  frightened,"  581. 

PIN-WHEELS: — 513,  516. 

l'l.i>  m  ites.  20li. 

Pla\s,  Three,  416. 

Pletirobrachia.  197. 

I'oeti  \-  Machine,  The,  5GO. 

Polly,  Little.  702. 

Polo   Water.  640. 

Posies,  An  Armful  of,  132. 

Post-Box,  :HI 

I'rince  and  the  Whipping-Buy.  The.  441. 

PRINCE  LAZYBONES,  Tin-;  AnvENTfKKS  OF:  —  593,  616, 
628,  114.1.  I'.ov  c'i-4.  7011, 

Prisoner's  lia.-e.  :IM 

I' --ion.  Watching  Ihe,  405. 

Pudding.  Mixing  the.  41111 

Pulling   I   Hurl-  (Kiepbalitsl,  741. 

Puppy's  lirsl  Todi'tlc.  r,:l:l 

rinse  and  Rings  Puzzle,  The  (three  illustration,-'.  7  ;r. 

Pussies    Sly.  4IIII. 

l'u--\',  I'eedmg.  7R2. 

Pii.-.-i  B  lirst  Sleigh-Ride,  169. 

l'i  //M>:— Making  a  Scpiare,  36S  ;    Three   Plays,  416; 

Shower  Pu/.xle.  4wl;  Monogram  Puzzle,  ,128. 
Pygmatiou  and  Galatea,  7H8. 

RABBIT-HUSTISG,  Freds  Nightmare  after  a  Day's,  192. 

Race    v  scrub.  7t'.i. 

Rat.  A  >lv  ol,l   3  18 

Kats—"  fhosearc  Pie  Kal-."  replied  Mr   Koilenlia,  2S.1. 

Kebus,  7S4. 

RKG:— 200,  216, 236,  244. 

Keservoirs  of  Aden.  The.  4:17. 

Khiiiocero-    llumnrj  the.  1X1. 

Kich  anil  Pool    .". .;, 

liieliiinl  II..  King  and  Queen  Isabrlla.  277. 

I  Ill-he  I  leu  slir\  e\  lit  j   Ihe  \\"o[  k.-  at    KOI  helle.  229. 

Ki.l i  ol.l  Ko\  er,  A    i,'i7 

Kiili— Toe  -  K.irtel  Ack,"117. 

ROBIN  HOOD,  MERRT  LDVE> "—Ms.  172. 

Hochelle.  "fhe  defense  of,  'J2'.'. 

l.'ouiirl  the  World  in  F.iirhty  Semiel-.  :;n 

••  Kou.sei-"  sprang  upon  him  from  bchiti.l.  -J4S.. 

P.unaway  lust  his  House,  How  the  liltle.  7.12 

SANTA  Cnrs:— TbcShrineofSt  Nicle.l  i-   89;'   I'!,  i  . 
Mr  s.i ti la  Cliius.  v  hat  you  gol    l"i    a-'-"  '.Hi;    I. el 
ol.l  Saul  i  I  lulls  come  ill,  12a;    Wli.il   Santa  Clati- 
hroiieht.  vji;. 

Sawd'i-l  Tragedv.  A.  :H7. 

Scliool  [i.n      i , in .imma's.  3G1. 

-,   In  M.I.   I  ,,      ng    In       \,.i,\    tor   \\  oil,      , 
-r! I    M.l-1.   I    ll| I   Mtli-      \     36 

Schubert  searching  for  Ihe  Ai  In  1.  -  Ii      I  rlln.\  Stiid.ail- 

have  hidden   i11 
Sea  c.m.  st  iller's,  3.111. 

Sea  Clli'iimhers  .alnl  -r  i  I  ir  i  n^r .  r.lU 
.-.  .1    r.H        I       Ihr    ||:1|.  The    .YJ 

their  Home     -  Impudence  personified 

"Sea  Spray. "  AlioarJ  the— "  All  right,  Ned.'    092. 

Mi  rhius.  452. 
M'r-av\     .    ' 
Srllish.  A  litlle.  729. 

Srlll-h.   'I,,,.     829 

sheep— Win! ing  for  Supper.  473. 
She.ptisbed  it  into  the  Water  al  last,"  7*9. 

Shinny.  768. 

"Ship  ahov  I"  5.V.I. 

Sbipwreel,  ---See'  the  Men  are  running  down, "  417. 

"Shoe,  I  he  old  Woman  w  Im  l,\  ...I  111  a,"  109. 

Shopping.  Wee  MML-L',..       797 

show,  Aiiothrr  \i-n  Imi'.il  [,296;  Sketches  al  the 
Winter  Quarters  of  Mr.  Baruum's  great  Show, 
297;  Travelling  Show— Vagabond  Lib-  576 

Sing  a  Song  of  Si\pen<  e,  477. 
Ihr  Novice  ' 

Sisters,  Three  i.nle.  174 

SKATINO  :— Fun  on  the  Ice  — Blindman's- Buff,  192; 
"Oil,  what  Fun'"  20S;    "Been  skating,  he\ 
217;     V    Hoys'   skilitig  Malch— The    Barrel  Kare 

h,r     11,11, lie     Rai    r       269 

Sketch  Irom  Xaliire.  How  to   52  :         ' 

Sled    A  Sling— Winter  Sports  in  Norway.  221. 

sir-lulu      Turn  ,il l  i-  bin  t.ur  1'l.ix       I 

sln-b   Kale,  Pu.-.-y's  lirst.  169. 

Sly  Pussies.  400 

SIH.W  lliilling — Storming  tlie  Fort,  170. 

Snow-  ball  Jury,  The.  220 

Snow  Man,  The  Gnomes  and  Ihe.  1S9. 

Snow  Shorj.  Cupid  on,  2:13;  Liltle  Snow-Shoes,  249. 

Societj  News,  320. 

Sold  er,  I'l  iving— Infaiilry  and  Cavalry,  397. 

Sport    A  I'all-l' Hall. 816. 

Sports.  Fall— Shinny.  7i;s 

Sports  in  Shanty  Town.  (124, 

SrlciNi;  : — ".Merry    Spring-Time,'1   340;    Spring-Time. 

388  ;  A  familiar  Picture  in  Central  Park,  432. 
STAR-FISH:—  388.  389. 


Steamboat — How  to  make  a  toy  Steamboat.  444. 

Steller's  Sea  I  'o\v.  all'. 

Stone  Lilies,  or  Crmmds  (four  illustrations),  COO. 

Store-Keeping.  The  Boys',  24. 

Storming  the  Fort,  176. 

si    Bernard,  Hospice  of— Searching  for  Travellers.  012. 

St.  Nicholas,  'fhe  Shrine  of— "  We  are  all  e I  chil- 
dren." S9  .  What  St  Nicholas  forgot  and  St. 
Valentine  remembered.  22,1. 

String  Tricks,  More.  192. 

Silb|ect.   A  good.  :i'.H'i 

MI  uneasy,  525. 

Mlc's  Wedding,  lilVJ. 

Sugar  Camp.  A  Night   iu  a.  Mi'.i 

,-iimiiier— "There's  merrv  Laughter,'1  etc.,  596. 

Supper,  Waiting  for,  473. 

Surprise.  An  unpleasant.  716. 

Swans.  Feeding  the,  820. 

TAILORS,  three.  Ve  romantic  Adventures  of,  085. 

"Take  care.  Sir!'   :;6o. 

Tarn  o'  Shantcr,  :tsl. 

"Tearer's"  trial  Trip,  The,  353. 

Ted  dresses  the  Baby,  290. 

Tennis.  Knyal  Came  of — Henry  the  F.ightb  playing,  337. 

Thanksgiving  Turkey,  How  Louis  brought  Home,  49. 

Thanksgiving  Turkey  Shoot    A  (New  sivlel.  4s. 

-There'-  merry  Laughter  in  the  Fields,"el  •  .  596. 

"They  tramped  along  the  desolate  Road,"  744. 

Thimble's  last  Hunt  677 

"This  Day  ii  SI  ig  must  die."  :I,S4. 

"This  is  a  mo>l  exlraordiuar\    S|MI-y  "771,. 

TtlOR'S  JofRNEY  TO  JOTt'NIlEM  : — 457,  472,  484. 

"    I  I'",  r.-."    -J-IO. 

Toad,  The  bor 1    124. 

Tom  Fairwealh  T  at  Aden.  430,  437. 

Tommy  and  the  Plums.  17:: 

Tommy's  lishmg  AdMimire.  240. 

Tom  Thumb.  General—  The  Wedding  Party,  009. 

Top.   A   Wlllp|illlL'.  Ml. 

Tortoise,  oiling  the  joints  of  the,  688. 
Toy  shiip  Wuidinv.-   The,  K!7. 
Trades.  Hoys  learning    136   292  293 
lii  i,  bOJ      I  orliine.  The—  "$101111"'  8. 
Tree,  Cast  away  ma  —  I'oo  and  Nap,  433 
Trial  Trip.  Tho  "Tearer  -    '  353;  Trial  Trip,  A,  G5"6. 
Trunk—"  It  won  I  shut  '.  '  672 
TI-KKEYS:— Killing  the  Turkey,  ill:  The  Turkey's  Mis- 

take     "Seized  in  spile  of  hi-   Snii^-lrs    brave 

1,'rd   Cip   \\a.s  borne  awiiy,"  93;    'lurkrvs  (see 

Thanksgiving). 

Turn  about  is  but  fur  Play.  S4. 
'fuming  tin  s  tables,  :'.m  ' 

Tiinle.  Fro-  and  Duck— '•  Very  line  Weather,"  ::..J 
Tiirile  I'ai-ly    Hie.  780. 

Twins,  -flie'    •  Her,.  ],-i  dc  riglil  Prisoner,"  .1611 
'f\\o  oli-eme  Heroes — Miirtiii  ] ireiieh mg  to  the  People 

on  the  Hilly  of  Fighting,  488. 

"  I  c-  ami  Downs  of  Life.  The,"  ."si. 

A'AOAIIOMI  I  ;[>•   17'', 

Valenlnie,  \  i.    \"inlou.-— The  (Juls   admiring    Milly's 

i  . .- 1  nine,  245. 

\i    uviu     Wfl    I'oiiring  forth  l.a\-a,"GGS. 
\    Mare  Creell.  'file.  832. 

\  ,    i.  ii'i  for 

..]    Discovery.   A  —  "le'cked    hy  the   Motion  of 
the   I!. Ml     Pl'OttJ    fill.-  a.  leep.-    101. 

W.UTlNli.  17. 

Waiting  lor  Supper.  -17:1 

Wa-lilln;  ami    llre.-.-illg.  .s:)2. 

Watching.  111. 

»  .H.  '  Spout,  I'iniir  at  a.  107. 

••  \Vealher.  This  is  \  er\    line.   '  :;.1_' 

\\r,i,i.i,.  Partj    '  hl'  ''-"'-1 
'..,,.  -  ln.|i)mig.  797. 

"\Vell.  now.  llial  is  pooty,"  792. 

\\  r  i  ,•  coming  too  "  1711. 
\\  hair-  Some  daiiiiy  Morsels  for  Ihe,  197. 

-  \\  liat's  ib. 'i  >"  r.l 
Wheel, The  Paper.  MI. 

•-  \\'ben  \i  inn mi--  "  etc.,  400. 

"  Who'll  gel   there  lil-l  f»  -J72. 

Why  so  (e.n-fi.l 

\\  In    l.d  burned  the  Kitchen— Ted  dresses  the  Baby, 

296. 

Wni.il. i.-       32    16o   2SS,  464,  592.  720. 
"Wild  Dolly"  — "Will's  Body  came  driving  down  the 

Race,  "310. 

Willie  Boy    Willie  Hov — In  tin-  Meadow,  557. 
\\   ndows   "the  I'liv   -hop.  137. 
WlXTl  r        .'I.   I  I 

•  Winter.  All  reiidy  for."  62. 

\V  i  tiler  \\  hen  Gra  nd  p  i  was  young,  144. 
Wish  Hone.  Hanging  the.  4s. 
Wreck  ofthe  "Juno,"  The,  1. 

Vot-NO  PEOPLE'S  COT.  449. 

"  •  Yes,'  she  said,  •  let  us  run  for  it,'  "  825. 

ZANZIBAR  Boy,  A— The  City,  77:1. 


PORTRAITS. 

P.iia.KR,  Charles  Ml} 
Carlito  .ni'i  i.n/ii.i,  370. 

Kdward  \  I.    -Ill 

l.-abella.  Q 0    277 

Maitio,  Wilh  mi.  4SS.. 
Mendelssohn  liartholdy,  Felix.  308. 
Ki.-li.-inl  II  .  277. 
Kicbelieii,  2211. 
Schubert.  Franz,  -in 
Weber,  Carl  Man  i  vmi,  ISO. 


GENE  R  A  I,     INDEX 


Teller,  835. 
Aden    i 

-    or:  —  Whal     : 

Ahoni    hi  L9 

.  Ill 

;  i'.vn-li  11,  The  qncer 

111  I  If.  -JOJ;    A'J  111-     '. 
Anl.-: 
Apr'-   I;.",  .'i   1 

Apple  in"    i  -'•  »-ond(  rl  il  670. 
Arclii    i 
Art.  1'2 

Aunt  M.IIJ..M.'  s  I'" 

Pi  i,.  i   i  ii-  \n  ji.i:,  -  lol 

•i~:<. 

l;.,i    \i ,  i.i'.ire  with  lh<-.  71.Y 

Battle    ii  'In'  - 

:  :    with  a,  47.".;  <;r:/7]y  I 'libs  or  Eol 

: 

,|-   ••;•.>, 

H.-ll.,.:  |     77'J. 

Jiiljl.'  I;,  i  . 

,  HOW-MIL; 

.-!;  I'm. -I 

MI     I .  i  1  Bumming  Bird'. 

Wl:  How  the  Owls  went  to  Singing-Scl I  ami 

v.  ti.ii  i  ime  "'  .1    'i11     Hi  i   i 

,  i  ,,n .  i  LI  - 
•Hi.-  \l  in  01  War  Mini,  7'ji.  . 

\\    ln>    .   ,Lll    I    11 

r,,.  us      [.ashed  i"  MI.    \\  h"'1'  "    '  Storm    i .'.»      i  hr 

l,,-i  Bo  it  of '37,401  •      v,  i,.,   - 

in  ili.-     626     i 

l'ii. i 

Bohhy    V!l. 
' 

i1  I 

;....    K          :  i   -'77. 

llran.i  ii         I  .   ii      '.i 

.11.1    Irml"! 

Bra' .   i  id    •• 

!•,,  LVO  -i'.  \  '  618 
r.i.  in.  r  [Jttle 

rii-  iroul  : 

I'.iinn  ili    V  Visit  to  Hi-1  t^n  ''ii  "f  711 
iiiiinm-.  "i  iin-     New  ii.i 
i  i!) ,  A  Hying  1'api-t    , 

CM  I:\HU-    I  in-  Gregorian    - 

ClN  MM   IS     Ml'.  .".       ,-JI.   717. 

Canarii      Rn 

i     -    ,    .     How  I  I  in'.     7*4 

i  •  ' 

(   .111      1,1      -I    ili     .     i. .       II. |    .          ,     I  -.   hool    kept    till' 

I-  mil  i  Ii        I  . 

<'a|>i.ini.  Being  Mir 

Ca|.laill   II. "I        kdvcnturc  in  ll.i'   l''l.il.   177. 

l'.i| Ki-hl       M -y.  71:1. 

Captain      I  >•  -"ii    I  I"'.  77*. 
Car.i.  TI revel  sible,  .'"i 

1  .n|..    V   I « 

( '  in  .  i  pigeon, The  ''>  to 

Oilapnlt  -"I'1  'I"'  I-11'1  'H" 

i    i  i          -;..i  ii       In.    ri;     •      '."I  .     tCal  .Hid. 1  Cat. -h.  4:1'.'. 

i  Ii  illni.  h.    \  Slorj  .'I  .1.   i-l 

Charge  of  the  ii is,  Thr     \n  liiodriii  of  ili.   Cn  ok 

Wai 

C!i..rli-i  1.,  'I'll.-  Chil.li.'n  ..I    7  ;s 

Clin  k.-ii  POX,  T'-.l  ami  llir,  :lll. 

Clnl.l  :,i  si.  Mary's,  (I  ir,  I.MI 

rlim.'i-o  Legend,   \  ,:  ITgrr.  .ir>7. 

("h.'plll     I    IMllr'.l-    I-  M-  I.   I  :• 

C,II;IM\I\>.         \    I  'hnslin.i ,     IIITIIII,    ali.l    li.iu     il    c     m' 

inn',  r.:.,  s.j  ;   Wiiii..  -  i  ini  tmas,  US  .   Th.-    .irl 

who     sa\r,l     up     Christinas.    '.IS;     A     Chri.-l 

Kn  -,ln    !"'.  '  I I-  1'l.n        -  TI hi  \Vn 

«li. i  hvi'd   ill  a   Sh.ir    '    I"',!  .    K..I.      A  Christ    i.i.s 

st.. i v    MI',,  i  in  -i in. i    \.-i-.i  ii\  i; ge  \v ii   er, 

192;  What  SI   Nicholas  forgot  and  St.  Valentine 

rrni"]nhriv.l.  'J'J.V 

rigaK'tlrs  -l.'iin  Ihat  may  Kill.  741 
Chi.T.s  .mil  lhr-ir  liivrntm  -    l''j 

\ ,I,SK. 

Chili    I  In'  \.-M-pap,. r.  314. 

rums,  \  I  ill, i  i  ollei  nng,  703. 

c.m, '.'ii  •.  :;4s 

Cooking  for  iin-  Sick,  47'.i 

Cooper,  Peter,  an.i  h,.-  Institute.  Ml 

('ill-ill    Hi'. -IS,    'Jll. 

c.  .11 1 1  Musician  Th...  .n-.  Tin'  Lord  Mayor's  Kiddl"  :;::n 

COIIMII  Tom".-  Wedding,  iiln 

Crab.  Johnnie  anil  thr.  itr.o. 

Cn-rhe,  Tin..  710. 

I 'r. l|. mis,  Stune  LiliCS.  Or,  059. 

C'ruel  Sport,  445. 


!>AX.-lM::-Mii t,  Ti 

,..  1 1  s 

Sr  ir,-h.    1".. 
Ill-Ill    0|'\ 

•-  Dirk        -    -         -  -     '  1,709,724   742,  756,  77:, 

- 
.' ivorl h'-  sv\ 

Ilii'ppi'.  Ski'lihi.'S  ;il.  71- 

•_'!<". , 
Mr   Harmini  s  brigl) 

i'hi-  K.imhl.      , 

Dogs   ;>iid  Ihr, i    • 
nil-Hi   53G;  The  i  i1 

kiir 
Poing  hi-  linn 

••  Hoi,  '  rig— In  MM-  \\,    ,.,,,,,,    :i,  -^34. 

l'..nkr\ ,  n ihi.  .._    i  j- 

liorothy.  tin-  I 

liiu-k  Hat,  Thr.  II 

.      M 

Kl.KI'll.lM~      -Thr      Klrphllll       Lr'-prr's     S I.        \ll 

.•:.  ml-     I-.'.    All   I  lr|.llallt    II 

iindrr  ••  I'o. 

Wn-rk  nf  II,. 
'-,7:.. 

I'lMii.v    \n  adoplrd.  709. 

i  .  i    i  he  i  in  :  ,,'  M, 

l-'ila::— What  in  do  I  Irom 

l-'l-M     AMI      I    '-  '  1"1-     111.' 

let'      Monitor," 
.71 

,..thy.  thr  l'i.-h.-i'  (Jirl.347. 

'  4'Kl. 

' 

l  '  >    11 

"1-     Ihr  I-T..U.T  MI.--I..II,  625;    M,.:innt; 

.  ,  : 

.  08 

'  ,    .  :  U 

i. low  Wiinu  and  llir.  sin. 
I  '    ,..41. 

7  ! 

I  ,,, ,-  ,  i  I.,  ,,  ii.    n  Spot 

!    Che,  r.ii 

Slide ;   or,  H«>\Y  an  English 

ml  k,  pi  ihr  r ..  n  i!. 
. 
i  .in,  ,.r  a.  r.:.:!. 

I  iv-h  air  I  nnd    I  hr  -  1'al    ' 

"  I  risk' 

1'iin  that  may  Kill,  741. 


How  io  skai...  rj:i;  A  il-l  ni.i  ..i  the  '   .-I  Indies) 

'i  :   M  ire 
Turks,  r.>_>  :   Tin-   i:.    i  -,      \.  and,  '.'us  ; 

I   hlrr-."-JHI.    I-.   II.  I    .nil      ".-".   '    Hi   .il.    I    \  ....... 

•j.M'i,  K.-iki'iiiono.  272;  Siih  .....  n.-  i  h  irad  •    Gro 

,n|   ;     I  hr    l:..\.il   I.,  .mr   ..I    In,  i, 

AI  nl  I".  ml-   Ii.  n  i;  i  .......  '     i  he  \.inr-  I'uzzlc, 

'      "  i  '   '      '    I          r.v  I"    i   i  hr 


-17:.;   I.aurlil,  ii.'ii        I'll  h.-  Mnriuiil    ,  i  I.;,. 
llr     .  -I.  Irli    Cam.'    i.l    I  H-i.nii-l  i  \  ,   T.l'j;    The 

I'.iri  i  \  M.I.  liine  5GO;    \u  In.  Inn  Game     K  ....... 

:....    1  1  i-  i  lower,  608;  1  1..-  i-  --  I'  .......   n 

India,  r.os;  Tin-  Five-dot  Game,  624;  WHI.T  I'oi,,, 

I'.lo;    In.  I:.  in  .....  r  ,i,     linn   [,,  ;  .in,  i,  I);,-.- 

l.iill  or  Ti'iini.-  i  In''   B66;  A  nr«  Km.  i  .  i  Beau 

Sh"..!iT.   Ii7?;     l.a\\ll     I'nol,    li'.'a;     '1'llr    IMr  ..,       Ii 
Cm!,  701  ;    Si..i|.  hllhhlr   Srri.-;.  ,    711  ;     llir    PurSO 

and  Rings  Puzzle,  736;  Prize  Stories,  800;  Think 
of  a  N  nii.i.ri1,  .sir.. 

Ciinlrll  I'al'ly,  I'.J'J 

(ia.sluii,  .III.-IMI—  'I  wo  oli-nnv  ll.-n.rs,  487. 

c.-iiilriniiii  .hirk     l;.\  engCj  :no. 

fihost,  \  Portuguese    .1 

Cirls,  Two.  li'.'j 

Cirls.  Wi.i-k  I'm-  (lirr.iriiliii-  chniii),  "r.'.l. 

i;low   Worm  iin.l  Ihr  1'h.  Thr   816 

Gold  I    nches,  and  how  to  train  them,  790. 

c,  .1,1  l-'i-h   All  about,  i'.:!5,  051. 

i;  .....  I  Snhirrl,  A.  :i'.IO. 

i;i-:m.lliii|.  i'.-  Tow/ri-    .''.I 

Grizzly  C'llhs  ol  Kul  Hivcr,  The,  791. 

HAKE  ami  Hnun.ls,  '217, 

II  nr    I  hr  Slory  ..I  Ihr  Ka-l.'r,  337. 

Hedgrtiog,  Tommy  the,  'JUH. 


H.M-mil  •  lie  Wood.  Thr,  27S. 

llrrrii-k.  l;..l,ni    36 

Hill.   :  hr  Sea  .MI-  up  Hi.-.  52 

-    i,-  Trad./  w.li, 
Holiday,  \  .jiirn    k  ind  "I.  -474. 
Hi.lllr.  Ill  siL'hl  ol    ."'ill 
' 
H..I--.'     I 

'  r  k  Kiding.  s'om.'  Hints  on,  GOO. 
l!,<r>r-         I  i     i  \       5'.I7. 
llo-iiiliil     HIM-  i  lliid  :  150. 

Boat,  In  a.  sin  819 

H.iW   Klll\    ra,li;hl    I  .....  .     19  I 

Humliii-  i    'J7L'. 

Illlllll'hin  k   Hill.   Ill  llir  Hi'arl  ,,l     ' 

II'.I,      All.  1.  1   llr 

\\  Ir,  hr  John  llunt.T  \v,, 
Huutei    \  .'in.-     \..|r.-  !..i   Ihr.  777.  s"s 

ICEBERG,  Wi     i     I  on  an,  170. 

Iguana    H.,\\  m\   Mini  <  nu-lil  thr,  ;l:i9. 
In.liiin-.  Two  ' 

I     i.    . 

••  1\   HOMII:   ll.'i  •,:.  I,'    ;,l,l,  .'.77. 

.lAOK.  Ihr  BUtl  I,'  '    -  I'.  "4    T',1. 

.IIMMI  i:.:i.\-..     i  -.iii.i   «CKS:—  Art,  12;  Our  Snow  Man, 

10]       iliuilmi;  Ihr    Rhinoceros,    IM;   Traps,  -JC.7; 
Dili-   Concert,  ills      A    pira-    l,r     l'\|,.'l';nirlll.  4'J1; 
An    .  \rridnil.   .  Mil  ;     A     I'lllow    Kl-hl      581;    SUB'S 
AVi'ddiii".  c.i'd  ,  Hill-  n.  «    Do 
Jo.1.  I'.IU  nrr,  'J..S 

Johnnie  and  i  h.  Crab  360 

.lolm'.s  I'l'i'-rlll      ,    ",, 

:..!   Jill  \       IS 

".Inn...     Hi.-  »  i..  k  "I  Ihr,  1, 

.IlllA,  Thr   S'lhlW   llilll,''JII. 

••KATIK'S  \V..il, 

Katj  i  .nielli  him,  How.  :i:i| 

KIDNAPI 

Kill-.-.  47:.;  Some  mon-  Kilr-    I'.M. 

I.V.KOS-I     l-jr. 

I.  an  1  ol  Ihr  I  ,  /   TTir.  1">. 

i  I  ..'. 

l.:i    hrd  Io  Ihr  \\  h.'r]    :u  ,,  SI,  ,11,1.   170. 

l.awn  I'oi.l   i  :  i 

•    i  '  -.illlr  rt,l\\  111.       299 

I.  mhi  House,  iio«  I'll  ,.  I..-  kepi  Mi.',  788. 
i  i  iii  iimi  .-.  1  1,,-  Spectres  ..nhr,  71. 
\n  Adventure  with  a,  r.7-j. 

'•l.illl,-  I  l.'\.".l,s. 
l,l\rl  v\..l  I       .:.  I 

I  .CIST  CM  V  Tin        785,  M«:,817. 
' 


M    O'HIM-  I  -       M"\\     ll"\        ,11  .....  Ill,  illrd    l.ll  ,    292 

\l.-i..iiu,r  Needle  Thr,  ;til. 

Marhlrs  379;   II.  .u  Io  play  Marhlrs,  il'.l... 

Mark  E   -i  -   -.     1C  ' 

Marlill,  \Vl!!,am      T\vo  ohsrnrr  llrr.'i        1     , 

-Max  Kandrr  iind  llir  I'rofrssi.r.s,  7'JC.. 

.May-cla\   I  ,  ti  al  Beverly  Hill.  Th.-,  401. 

"Illl    H.lM.li'lclK   KlTlX,  'Ml. 

Mi-till,  Work  in  Shrrl,  IS'J. 

M  .  .-    \\  hilt'.  Mow  Io  male.'  a  Cagr  for,  088. 

Mike's  "]  ......  rich  Bi 

Mi  .....  -I    Thr.  -J.|'2. 

Ml--.    ITra.hv  il  s  i;nrsl,77ll 

M:    I   i'.     .     \   dri'i.l.  ,1.  :;  -.'.I. 

MCIXKKVS:—  Tin'  old  Mm  of  Hi"  M.ninl.im.  4.">"L  Thf 
K  ;n  ,.l  Mr-  \li,  1  1  1,.^  :,-,.j.  I  I,"  ,-|  .11  inn  iind  tin.' 
\lonki-ys,  C.HK. 

Morniim  (Ji.i'ir-  .iml  .-I  .....  I 

'  i  .....          I   I,"     I    .',,.[    1,1     Mir     I    I'/,    .f.   ,. 

M  .....  long  the  Bull  usues,  .'iii. 

M'.lh      MII  |  "II.  .  luir.  4'.l'.l. 

Mi    (irubbj     "Hi  I'"  I,.  -i  Boi  i       i  ' 

Mr.  Th  .....  I'l-on  and  llie  hurni.'.!  Toad.  1".:!;  Mr.  Tlmnip 

si.n  an  1   Ihr    Kals,  'JS4;    Mr    TTinnip.-  m  i.nd    lh. 

I  i.-i.i-M  i.  ...  I.1:,;  Mr  Tin  mi  ps.  in'.-  Adventure  with 

tin'  Hill.  Tl'i 

II  •  W  .....  I  Th.-  Ili-rmit  oi;  278. 

Mill,  ill.  i  ol'  Miinllo,  Thr.  H. 

MI,  ,  .1.    \  \  ,-  .....  .  MJ.  i 

'I  ,  I  i  ."  ..  I  r  ili'.nc-  Ch'.  pin,  s'.v  Carl  Maria  v,  n 
\\i-lii-r.  17'.ir  A  SVolPs  H.-hk'-  I'm-  Mn-ir,  -J'J7  ;  I'f- 
lix  Sl.-li.l,Tf-.,hn  llarlholdy.  ::n7;  (Pur  C  .....  :c-rl, 

.1         Scale    .ni.i   Irpcggios  "  -I7n;  imc  Yi-ar  ot 

I'iano  Sillily,  ('.411;  Tin.'  lull.'  Muslriau,  787. 

XAX:—  4,  20.  43.  5:),  7:.,  '.Ill,  115,  1:12,  153,  105,  187,  'JIX1, 

•JI-J,  -Jiil,  'J.Ml.  'JO  I.  'js:-j,  -JV'.I 
N'asmyth.  .lamrs.  l,jii:ni<'i'r,  4lj:(. 
Mel  "i.    I  hr  !'.,\  \'.  h..  i«>.  ii  hi  against,  a4i;. 
•  \.".\  Horu,"  The  burning  of  the,  203. 

\.  '.\    i'  .|,rr  Club     I  hr,  314. 

Xi-w  V.  ,ir  s  '  alls.  Two  unexpected,  148. 
Nile,  Hoy  I.  ilr  mi  the,  68. 
Nina's  Hiihy,  7:.;t. 

i.  Think  of  a.  810. 

\   IMiyini'.-!,  'J'.l,  01. 

n  KAN,  In  iln-  Westen 

old  Mrnoi'thi'  Mountain,  The.  450. 

Olga's  l:ni.'.  l-iii. 

••  I  inly  a  Cirl,"442. 

Oriole,  A  j»t,  542. 

Oilers—  Queer  little  Animals  that  slide  down-hill,  209. 

Owls  went  to  Singing-Schoul,  How  the,  540. 


Vlll 


D  E  X. 


PACIFIC.  South.  A  Slory  nl'  llic,  202. 
Parrot— The  Tunis,  150. 
1'at.  0;!4. 

Pi'Wnee  -Inc.  25S. 

Pearl.  022.  Tin: 

••Fear], "liaising  tin       ee      Ra  -:ng  the  Tear] .'"). 

PKIIII,  AXI>  PRIVATION — The  Wreck  of  (he  ••.June."  1  ; 
A  ea.-l  iwav  \nil  i  sador  114.  M'.i;  Tin-  binnim' 
nl  Ihe-'Non  Mom.  '263;  In  si-hi  ol  Hume,  5:.U  . 
Arctic  Travel  I'.M 

IVI  "I  H"'  l!eg "'.   I'll'1.  ISl 

1'iaim  SI  ml  v.  line  Year  of,  040. 
Pickerel  Fishing  si" 
Pickerel.  The  disappointed,  al'.i. 
Picnic  at  I'iin-  Centre.  Tin'.  I'.'.iS. 
Pieluro.llook.  'I  In-  greal  Slone,  186. 
Pigeons.  Some  knowing,  302. 
Pillow   Fight,  A.  5S1. 

Pine  Centre,  Tlie  Picnic  al.  698. 

Pin  Wheels—  Mr.  Cruhhj  '.,  old  Pocket-Book.  "14. 

Plants  caughl  Napp.ii-,  Hi.: 

Play.  A  Chrislmas— ••  The  old  AVomau  who  lived  in  a 

Shoe.      I  "'.I 
Play — The  Court  .Musician;  or,  The  Lord  Mayor's  Ilid- 

dlc.  3:;n 

Poetry  Machine.  The.  51111. 
Portuguese  Ghost,  A.  MS. 
Prince  and  the  Whipping  I'.oy.  The,  441. 
Prince.  Baby,  The  Kn)glilli'»>d  <>l  a,  7114. 
PRINCE  LAZYBOXF.S,  TIM.:  AHVI.:_NT"RES  OF: — 593,  01  I  027 

644,  «07.  c.s:i,  099. 
Prison,  An  01  n •!!   ur;  or.  Captain  Hareourt's  Adveni  uiv 

in  the  Terai,  177. 
Prize  Stones.  SHIP. 

Professoi  s  Kui is.  The,  410. 

Pud-ling.  Mixing  the,  493. 

Pin  ,  and  Kiu^s  Piuzli',  The,  736. 

Pussy.  :;u4. 

RAISING  THE  "PEARL"  :— 273,  289,305,  322,  342,  356.373, 
385,405,426  138  15::  li  >.  I--:,.  .Mi:,  510,  530.  554, 
565.  5,so.  fiO'j.  liliP. 

Kit-   Mr  ThonipsMii  .mil  the,  284. 

Rebus,  Answer  to.  192. 

REG:— r.'.s. -J14.  235,  242. 

Rhinoceros,  Huntini;  'he.  181. 

Richard  II.,  King— The  sad  Story  of  a  Boy  King,  277. 

Bob.  111!. 

Robin  Hood,  The  merrj    Vdventures  of,  147, 171. 

Kochelle.  Tl cfeu  e  of,  228. 

"  Rouser."  240. 

Rnbhei-s,  The  Professor's,  4  lu. 


••ALL  the  Same."  042. 
Apple-Dumplings,  70ti. 
April  Gold,  :Hii 
Artistic  Maidens,  Tin  > 
Autumn.  724. 

BABY,  194. 

Baby,  .....  •,  1338 

Kahy's  |i.i\     30 

Batrachlan  Ballad.  .\.  *75. 

Birds,  Busy.  :t. 

Birds  learn  to  sine,  How  the,  0.1:1. 

Boy  with  bright  Idea.-.  A.  05:1,  009. 

Butterflies,  544. 

By-and-By  and  Never  275. 

live,  Baby  Bunting!  45. 

CAT.  A  Mallese.  4so. 
(als  of  Ja]iall 
Child 
Chi 

rlirislin:.     '.'- 

Christmas  al  the  Door.  S2. 

Christmas 

Ch 

Cider.  Going   or, 

Clothes,  The  new,  s.)2. 

Clover.  A  Hun,  h  i.|'.  530. 

Cobbler,  The  cross  old.  25S. 

Conseeration  ol'liie  King  s  Armor.Thc,  55. 

Cricket  and  the  Tea-Kettle,  The,  PJS. 

DAISIES,  The,  s:i2. 

Daisy's  Lesson.  Ci(l7. 

Dart's  Escape.  OM; 

Didn't  care  a  Hit.  224. 

Dollie  in  the  lie'.  'an.  O'.in. 

IKilly,  My  Talk  with,  270. 

Dream-Bays.  772 

Dream—  "What  sli  ill  I  Ilream  about.  Mamma?'1  210. 

ELEPHANT  Soldiei'.  Tli"  375 
Kll.gm  IS.  1388,  752  7S4 
Kxctvise  (set  to  Music),  520. 

FAIKY  Armor.  5117 

Farm  rensionei      265 

'•Father's  Pla<  e.  In"  (Decoration-Day),  166. 

Kisliin^  i:i  the  Hi""!*    ..... 

Flag  ol'Truee.   \     !5'J 

l-'lovvers.  The  Voires  ol'lhe  (set  to  Music),  13. 

Freezing  Kll'ci  i-    190 

Frost  on  the  \Vin  low,  23s. 

(;NOMKS  and  tin-     '      ,   Man    lie.'.  189. 
c;  ........  Roil,  i3» 

(i  .....  I  n.tured  (iirls,  The.  832 

(.11—  Liners,  :}s4. 
Grandmother.  S27. 
Grandpa's  Pet,  <;71. 
(.reedy  Richard,  832. 


AT.          aese.        . 

(als  of  Ja]iall  ha\e  li"  fails    Why  the.  304. 
Children  said.  Whai  Mi.',  174. 
"Children"  t-ei  io  Mti.-ie],  382. 

rlirislin:.     '.'- 
hristmas  al  the  Door.  S2. 
hristmas  Carol,  A  (set  In  Music),  111. 
hristinas  Prayer.  The    102 
ider.  Going  for,  120 


"SCALES  and  Arpeggios,"  470. 

Schubert,  Franz,  39. 

Sea  li.iihniL'  and  Floating,  018. 

Sea  r.niille.  A.  040.   ' 
Sea  Cow,  An  extinct,  355. 

Si  .1  C nbci  -  563. 

Si  .'  '•  '<•-  up  the  nil.  The.  .-,2. 

SealE  in  llieir  Home.  The.  823. 

••  Sea  Spiny,"  Aboard  the,  690. 

SIM  Cn  Inns.  I..1 

Ship.  Han  s.  41S. 

••  Shoe.  The  old  \Vomaii  wholived  it]  a, "109. 

show.  Another  Visit  to  the,  2%. 

Singing  Les.Min.  '1  he  '.i 

Skale.  How    lo,  123. 

Skalilig  Match.  A  Hoys'.  26S. 

Skelch  Iron)  Xalui'-.  Hou-  to,  523. 

snaki  s,  \"enonioiis,  0;  A  Fight  \vilh  a  !n^  Snake  .in  the 

Amazon,  'Ji'-1;  A  Kattie  iu  the  Grass,  4'JO. 
Sno\\  ball  Jury.  The.  220. 
Snow. Man.  "n'r.  ~.ni_ 
Soap  bubble  Secrets,  714. 
Si'ldier,  The  green-coated,  7."tS. 

-I \  .Hid  i  he  Monkey  -.  The,  688. 

Spectres  ol'lbe  Light-House,  The,  71. 

Spiders  ami  theii  u  ,  bs  320 

S'liin  i  els.  and  ho\v  to  keep  them,  20. 

star  Fish.  :;s,s. 

SI    Bernard,  The  Hospice  of,  012. 

St.  Nicholas— What  St.  Nicholas  forgol  and  St.  Valeu- 

tine  remembered,  225. 
St.\"alelitine — What  St.  Nicholas  forgot  alidst  Valentino 

remembered.  225;  St.  Valentine  and  his  Day,  2:111 
Sli':ini'"iat,  toy,  How  to  make  a,  443. 
Slone  l.il.es.  orCrinoids,  059. 
Shui"  1'ielHle  Houiv     I'he  gl'eat.  ISh. 
Store  Keeping.  The  Boys',  21. 

Slones,   I'l  ize.  800 

SI.IPJ    inim  Denmark.  An  old— The  Boy  \vho  Fought 

a-aillsl  Nelson,  34li. 
Story  oi  the  Wind,  402. 
Siring  Tricks.  192. 
Sue's  Wedding,  (Mil. 
Sue/  Canal.  An  Adventure  in  the.  is. 
Sugar  Camp,  A  Night  ill  a.  :;i'.t. 
Swim,  Ihek  Wentwortll's,  598. 
Swimming  for  Lile,  202. 
Swimming— Sea  Bathing  and  Floating.  018. 

TAILOR'S  Apprentice.  The.  203. 
'•Tearcr'.s  "  trial  Trip,  The,  353. 
'leasing.  Abonl.  326. 

POETRY. 

Grumble  Town.  The  Fate  of,  C37. 
Gyp,  -V>4. 

I|AI;I-:HEI,I.S.  59s. 

Harry  s  .loke.  SO. 

Hi  i  "     \   nameless.  741. 

••  II.'  -  \\  i 'i 'ping  for  me,"  806. 

Hey,  Diddle.  Diddle, -»J. 

Home  P.eiuit\-.  e41. 

Ho!   Rub  a-Diib-Dub:  G04. 

lluiilei   Man.  The,  732. 

Hymn  for  Children,  62. 

Is  it  Possible?  44S. 

Daly.  The  Twins  of.  117 

1  I  ii  II  you  dat  dis  Obercoat's,"  250. 

JAPANESE  Fan  Tales,  576. 

JlSGl  i .-  (see  "Nursery  Rhymes"). 

KIM;  C  u  i,!K[.mvt:H,  16. 

Kittens.  Five.  The  true  History  ol.  iiiij. 

Kill. 'li  S  I'.illJ  .  The,  S16. 

LAKE  Cn  A^IIM.VIX,  735. 
Land  ol  Now  here.  The,  076. 
Leap  al    l!a\  oil  I  air.  '1  he.  514. 

"  •  Lei's  g IVd.'  said  Sleepy-Head,"  win. 

l.illle  Girl  and  lilile  Bniok.  435. 

lallle  Girl  ol  11 Fresh-air  Fund,"  The.  01:] 

i.'llle  Golden  Hair,  071. 
Little  .Maid  .Mary,  494. 

MAN,  When  I'm  a,  151. 
March,  314. 
Master  (JIIIL:   Little,  29. 
May.  414 

Messenger  of  Love.  The  little,  712. 

Mice  ii  Tea.  Ilir  460. 

Milkmaid,  The.  01. 

Miss  t'tvi  anil  \li-s  Laugh.  560. 

••  Molh.  r  s  dear  Comton.'   582 

Mouse  and  Hie  Marrow  Bone.  The,  320. 

\!\  ii.ii.\  Boy, 

XAI-CHTY  little  Girl.  For  a,  832. 

NECKOUS:— ••  I  tell  you  dat  dis  Obercoat's,"  250. 

New  Year.  254. 

North  Wind  doth  Blow.  The  (set  lo  Musio.  lll'.l. 
NrusKuv  UHY.MKS:— 29,  45,  61,  158,  173,  25:1,  2s2.  34!l, 
4011,  477,  4'J4,  557. 

OFF  111''  lane.  2S2 
Opinions.  Two   7S1 
orphan  Girl,  The,  393. 
orphan.  The.  S32. 
IIIH   Ii,, dings,  022. 

PALETTE.  The  Fairies',  768. 
Parasol.  Her,  734. 
Party,  The,  832. 


Ted  and  the  Chicken  Pox,  :tll. 

Tennis  or  Base-ball  Club,  How  to  form  a,  006. 

Terai.  Captain  Harcourt's  Advenlure  in  the,  177. 

'•  Texas, "  The  Ship — Let  go  your  Anchor  411 

Thimble  s  1  i-l  Hum,  071, 

Thof's  Journey  to  Jotnnhem.  457.  471/483. 

Tillany  &  Co — Learning  a  Trade.  l:i4. 

Tiger.  The  laithlul -A  Chinese  Legend,  507. 

Tildy  drove  Ilie  r,,\\s  Iliinie.  Him.'^'JO. 

Toad.  Mr  Thoni|  son  and  I  lie  horned,  123. 

Tom  Fall-weather  at  Aden.  430;    in  Zanzibar.  773. 

"Tommy,"  208. 

Tom  Thumb,  General.  609. 

'I  "--,  '1  111  a  Blanker  I150 

Towzer.  Grandpapa  s.  .v.i 

To\  ,-hoji  \Vindows,  I  he.  131. 

Trade,  Learning  a   l:H.  ^'.'-J 

Train-boy  s  Foilune.  Tin-,  r, 

Traps.  20;. 

Tree  Casl  away  in  a   i:;:: 

Trial  Triji.  The  ••  Tearer.s. ":):,:;. 

Turkey.  How  Louis  brought  Home  the,  49. 

Turkey's  Mistake'.  'lhe   92 

Turtle,  Our  Fight  with  the  snapping  230. 

Turtles,  779. 

Twins,  The,  459. 

Two  obscure  Heroes,  4S7. 

VALENTINE.  Vic  Vinlon's.  244. 

Villam  that  lurks  in  die  Woods,  A,  772. 

Voyage  of  Discovery,  A  505 

WAXD.  The  reeling.  2m. 
Washin^'lon  in  Youth,  250. 

W.lh'l     P., In,  (14(1. 

Waler-S] -   :,;n; 

Weber,  Carl  .Maria  von.  179. 

Whales.  Some  dannv  Mor.-els  for  the  196. 

Wheel.  The  Pap,  i      u 

Whipping-Boy.  The  Pr, nee  and  lhe.  441. 

Who  can  find  them  (Twenty  lour  Birds)?  768. 

Who  is  to  die?  020. 

Who  was  bey  144.  221.  336.  :,44,  704. 

Whv  Ted  burned  the  Kitchen.  2114. 

"Wild  Dolly,  "315. 

Willie's  Chnsi s.  s:, 

Wolf's  dislike  lor  Mnsie  A  227. 
Wolf.  I'nele  y.ed's,  19. 

••YE"  and  "&,"2U. 

ZANZIBAR,  Tom  Fairweather  in,  773. 


Peacock  and  the  Sea.  The.  413. 

Peek  a  Boo!   S23 
Philosopher,  A  litlle.  74. 
Picture  wa d.  A  son 

I'lui 'the  Carrier.  22S. 

Playmates,  2»r. 

Play  (set  to  Music),  054. 

Pohleness    The   Pink  of,  157. 
Polly,  Litlle.  702 
Prayer.  The  old  Dame's.  -.'."I 
I'nssy.  l-Yeding,  7S2. 
Pygmalion,  and  Galatea,  788. 

RAT.  A  sly  old,  328 
Riddle.  i;i  is 
Rose-Bud,  191. 

SAXTA  CL.U'S  come  in.  Let  old,  125. 

.--ell,  nil    Going  to.   107. 

>,'li, 11,1  Ma-ii-i  npi'ii  I'one,  A,  36. 

Sea-Shell.  The.  040. 

'•  See!  the  Conquering  Hero  comes" — lo  Grief.  416. 

Selfish.  Too,  829. 

Sensation.  A  great.  4!'4. 

Shopping.  Wee  Ma^ieV.  7'.'7. 

Sing  a  Song  o[  Sixprnr,.  (|M,L  to  Music).  477. 

Sister,  My  little.  :i;,s. 
Slow  Girl,  The,  270. 

Snow,  The  in; 

Snow  upon  the  barren  Fields,  The,  205. 

So  ip-Hubbles,  715. 

Sparrow.  The  trustful,  131. 

Spring  Time,  ::ss. 

Story,  .1  pii'iiy,  798. 

Siillerer.  A  lilile  .pjo 

Summer  is  come  isei  lo  Music),  006. 

Summer's  Hills.  542. 

Swallow  Hitting  through  the  Trees,  A,  644. 

TAILORS,  three.  Ye  romantic  Adventures  of,  685. 

lip    a  I  'at  Story.  574. 

Tommy  and  the  Plums.  573. 

Try  again,  75s, 

Turn  about  is  but  fair  Play.  S4. 

VALENTINE,  Bonnie's,  2111. 
Valentine,  Ma  k's,  242, 
Village  Green,  The,  S32. 

WAITING,  18. 

Washing  and  Pressing,  832. 

Watching,  141. 

Way  it  struck  her.  The.  7Ht. 

••  When  Mamma  conies,"  etc.,  400. 

Why  so  'fearful''  25:; 

Wild  goose  Chase.  A,  35. 

Willie  Boy.  Willie  Boy  (set  to  Music).  557. 

AViud's  Rebuke,  The,  OJU. 

Winter.  2n.Y 

Winter,  Jolly  old,  179. 

Wish-Bonc,  The.  48. 

Woodbine,  The,  71'.i. 


HARPER 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


IP 


(|    ANI' 

ILLUSTRATED, 

\ 
nWEEKLY.u, 

VOL.  IV.-NO.  158. 
Tuesday,  November  7, 1883. 


PUBLISHED  BY   HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK. 


TRICE    FOUR    CENTS. 


1882,  l.y    JU«ritK  i   liKCrrn«E». 


$1.60  per  Year,  in  Advance 


PERIL  AND  PEIVATION. 

BY  JAMES  PAYN. 


•ALL    HANDS    SCRAMBLED    UP    THE    RIGGING." 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  "JUNO." 

OF  all  the  sufferers  from 
shipwrecks,  women  are 
the  most  to  be  pitied ;  for  chil- 
dren do  not  know  the  full 
extent  of  their  danger  until 
death  relieves  them,  while 
women  usually  overestimate 
it.  Their  mental  agonies 
are  therefore  greater  than 
those  endured  hy  men,  while 
their  physical  privations  are 
as  great,  without  the  same 
strength  to  bear  them. 

Mrs.  Bremner,  wife  of  the 
Captain  of  the  Jnuo,  bound 
frc  mi  Rangoon  to  Madras,  had 
perhaps  as  terrible  an  expe- 
rience of  shipwreck  as  ever 
fell  to  the  lot  of  any  of  her 
sex.  The  ship's  cre\v  con- 
si.sted  chiefly  of  Lascars,  with 
a  few  Europeans,  among 
whom  was  John  Mackay,  the 
second  mate,  who  tells  this 
story. 

Soon  after  the  Juno  set  sail 
she  sprang-  aleak,  which  in 
crejiM'd  more  and  more  on  ac- 
eonni  of  the  sand  ballastchok- 
ing  the  pumps,  until  on  the 
twelfth  evening  she  settled 
down.  From  the  sudden  jerk 
all  imagined  they  were  going 
to  the  bottom,  but  she  only 
sank  low  enough  to  bring  the 
upper  deck  just  under  water. 

All  hands  scrambled  up  the 
rigging  to  escape  instant  de- 
struction, "moving  gradual- 
ly upward  as  each  succeeding 
wave  buried  the  ship  still 
deeper.  The  Captain  and  his 
wife,  Mr.  Wade  and  myself, 
with  a  few  others,  got  into 
the  mizzentop.  The  rest  clung 
about  the  mizzeii  -  rigging. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Mrs.  Bremner  complained  much  of  cold,  having  no  cover- 
ing but  a  couple  of  thin  under-garments,  and  as  I  happen- 
ed to  be  better  clothed  than  her  husband,  I  pulled  off  my 
jacket  and  gave  it  her." 

On  the  first  occurrence  of  these  calamities  such  unself- 
ishness is  not  uncommon:  it  is  the  continuous  privation 
which  tries  poor  human  nature.  But  it  must  be  said  to 
John  Mackay's  credit  that  he  behaved  most  unselfishly 
throughout,  and  stood  by  this  poor  woman  like  a  man. 

The  ship  rocked  so  violently  that  the  people  could  hardly 
hold  on,  and  though  excessive  fatigue  brought  slumber  to 
some  eyes,  Mr.  Mackay  did  not  snatch  a  wink.  "  I  could 
not,"  he  says,  "sufficiently  compose  myself,  but  listened 
all  night  long  for  a  gun,  several  times  imagining  I  heard 
one;  and  whenever  I  mentioned  this  to  my  companions, 
eacli  one  fancied  he  heard  it  too."  It  is  noteworthy  that 
the  same  thing  happened  throughout  the  calamity  as  to 
seeing  land.  When  one  would  imagine  that  he  saw  it, 
the  others  were  persuaded  that  they  saw  it  too. 

The  prospect  at  dawn  was  frightful :  a  tremendous  gale; 
the  sea  running  mountains  high;  the  upper  parts  of  the 
hull  going  to  pieces,  and  the  rigging  giving  way  that  sup- 
ported the  masts  to  which  seventy -two  wretched  creatures 
were  clinging. 

After  three  days,  during  which  their  numbers  were 
much  diminished,  the  pangs  of  hunger  became  intolera- 
ble. "I  tried  to  doze  away  the  hours  and  to  induce 
insensibility.  The  useless  complaining  of  my  fellow-suf- 
ferers provoked  me,  and,  instead  of  sympathizing,  I  was 
angry  at  being  disturbed  by  them."  He  had  read  of  sim- 
ilar scenes,  and  his  dread  of  what  might  be  was  at  first 
more  painful  than  his  actual  sufferings.  Presently,  how- 
ever, he  learned  by  bitter  experience  that  imagination 
falls  short  of  reality. 

For  the  first  three  days  the  weather  was  cold  and  cloudy, 
but  011  the  fourth  the  wind  lowered,  and  they  found  them- 
selves exposed  to  the  racking  heat  of  a  powerful  sun. 
Mackay's  agonies,  especially  his  sufferings  from  thirst, 
then  became  terrible.  The  only  relief  from  them  was  af- 
forded by  dipping  a  llannel  waistcoat  which  he  wore  next 
his  skin  from  time  to  time  in  the  sea.  He  writes,  how- 
ever, that  he  always  "found  a  secret  satisfaction  in  every 
effort  I  made  for  the  preservation  of  my  life."  On  the 
fifth  day  the  tirst  two  persons  died  of  actual  starvation, 
their  end  being  attended  by  sufferings  which  had  a  most 
sorrowful  effect  on  the  survivors. 

As  the  sea  was  now  smooth,  an  attempt  w:is  made  to  tit 
out  a  raft  (the  boats  having  been  rendered  useless),  but 
this  being  insufficient  to  contain  the  whole  crew,  the 
stronger  beat  off  the  weaker.  Though  Mackay  succeeded 
in  getting  011  board,  Mrs.  Bremner  did  not,  and  he  asked  to 
be  put  back  again,  which  was  readily  done.  He  resumed 
his  place  by  her  in  the  mizzentop.  Her  husband  had  by 
this  time  lost  his  wits,  and  would  not  even  answer  when 
addressed.  "  At  first  the  sight  of  his  wife's  distress  seem- 
ed to  give  him  pain  as  having  been  the  cause  of  her  suf- 
ferings, and  he  avoided  her;  but  now  he  would  barely 
permit  her  to  quit  his  arms,  so  that  they  were  sometimes 
even  obliged  to  use  force  to  rescue  her  from  his  embraces." 
His  frenzy  (as  often  happens  in  such  cases)  took  the  form 
of  seeing  an  imaginary  feast,  and  wildly  demanding  to  be 
helped  to  this  or  that  dish.  On  the  twelfth  day  he  died, 
and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  they  threw  the 
body  into  the  sea,  after  stripping  off  a  portion  of  his 
clothing  for  his  wife's  use. 

There  were  two  boys  on  board  the  Jinio,  who  were 
among  the  earliest  victims.  Their  fathers  were  both  in 
the  foretop,  and  heard  of  their  sons'  illness  from  those  be- 
low. One  of  them — it  was  the  thirteenth  day  of  their 
misery — answered  with  indifference  that  he  "could  do 
nothing"  for  his  son.  The  other  hurried  down  as  well  as 
he  could,  and,  "  watching  a  favorable  moment,  scrambled 
on  all  fours  along  the  weather  gunwale  to  his  child,  who 


was  in  the  mizzen -rigging.  By  that  time  only  three  or 
four  planks  of  the  quarter-deck  remained,  and  to  them  he 
led  the  boy,  making  him  fast  to  the  rail  to  prevent  his  be- 
ing washed  away.  Whenever  the  lad  was  seized  with  a 
fit  of  sickness,  the  father  lifted  him  up  and  wiped  away 
the  foam  from  his  lips,  and  if  a  shower  came,  he  made 
him  open  his  mouth  and  receive  the  drops,  or  gently 
squeezed  them  into  it  from  a  rag.  In  this  terrible  situa- 
tion both  remained  five  days,  until  the  boy  expired.  The 
unfortunate  parent,  as  if  unwilling  to  believe  the  fact, 
raised  the  body,  looked  wistfully  at  it,  and  when  he  could 
no  longer  entertain  any  doubt,  watched  it  in  silence  until 
it  was  carried  off  by  the  sea.  Then,  wrapping  himself  in 
a  piece  of  canvas,  he  sank  down  and  rose  no  more,  though 
he  must  have  lived — as  we  judged  from  the  quivering  of 
his  limbs  when  a  wave  broke  over  him — a  few  days  long- 
er." In  all  the  annals  of  shipwreck  I  know  no  more  pa- 
thetic picture  than  this. 

But  for  showers  of  rain  all  would  have  been  dead  long 
since.  They  had  no  means  of  catching  the  drops  save  by 
spreading  out  their  clothes,  which  were  so  wet  with  salt- 
water that  at  first  it  tainted  the  fresh.  Maekay,  howev- 
er, before  these  timely  supplies  arrived,  had  had  a  very 
unusual  experience.  Maddened  by  the  fever  which  con- 
sumed him,  and  in  spite  of  the  ill  consequences  he  expect- 
ed to  happen,  he  had  gone  down  and  drank  two  quarts  of 
sea- water.  "To  my  great  astonishment,  though  this  re- 
laxed me  violently,  it  revived  both  my  strength  and  spir- 
its. I  got  a  sound  sleep,  and  my  animal  heat  abated." 
Another  expedient  for  getting  some  moisture  into  their 
mouths  was  to  chew  canvas  or  even  lead.  Shoes  they 
had  none,  as  leather  dressed  in  India  is  rendered  useless 
by  water,  and  Lascars  never  use  .re. 

indeed,  some  bits  of  leath.  r  •    the 

Miiell   and  taste  of  it  were  found  "to 

dured. "      The  rains  and  th  :    vei-\ 

cold  at  night.  In  the  morning,  as  t'ie  1, 
"  we  exposed  first  one  side  and  then  the  other  to  it,  until 
our  limbs  became  pliant;  and  as  our  spirits  revived,  we 
indulged  in  conversation,  which  sometimes  even  became 
cheerful.  But  as  mid  day  approached,  the  scorching  rays 
renewed  our  torments,  and  we  wondered  how  we  could 
have  wished  the  rain  to  cease." 

It  must  be  understood  that  the  ship,  though  its  hull  was 
under  water,  was  moving  on  all  this  time.  On  July  the 
10th,  being  the  twentieth  day  from  its  partial  sinking, 
one  of  the  people,  as  had  often  before  happened,  cried  out, 
"Land!"  His  cry  was  now  heard  without  emotion, 
though,  "on  raising  my  head  a  few  minutes  afterward," 
says  Mackay,  "  I  saw  many  eyes  turned  in  the  direction 
indicated."  Mrs.  Bremner  inquired  of  him  whether  he 
thought  it  might  be  the  coast  of  Coromandel,  which  seem- 
ed to  him  so  ridiculous  that  he  answered  that  if  it  was, 
•'they  ought  to  be  exhibited  as  curiosities  in  the  Long 
Room  at  Madras  under  the  pictures  of  Corn  wall  is  and 
Meadows." 

It  was,  however,  really  the  land,  though  they  had 
small  chance  of  reaching  it.  Indeed,  before  evening,  the 
ship,  under  water  as  it  already  was,  struck  on  a  rock. 
The  tide  having  fallen,  the  remaining  beams  of  the  up- 
per deck  wen-  left  hare,  and  Mackay  and  the  gunner  tried 
to  get  Mrs.  Bremner  down  to  them,  "but  she  was  too 
weak  to  help  herself,  and  we  had  not  strength  to  carry 
her."  The  Lascars — for  the  raft  had  come  back  with 
them,  as  it  could  make  no  headway — offered  to  help  if  sin- 
gave  them  money.  She  happened  to  have  thirty  rupees 
about  her,  which  was  afterward  of  great  use,  and  she  did 
not  stint  it  in  helping  her  preservers.  They  brought  her 
down  for  eight  rupees,  and  insisted  on  being  paid  on  the 
spot.  With  that  exception,  it  is  pleasant  to  read  th:it 
their  conduct  was  excellent  throughout,  and  their  behavior 
to  Mrs.  Bremner  singularly  kind  and  delicate. 

In  the  gun-room,  which  they  could  now  reach  through 


.\OVKMHKU   7,  1882. 


IIAHPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


3 


a,  hole  in  the  deck,  were  found  some  room-mils,  which  one 
would  have  expected  tlie  finders  to  retain.  On  the  con- 
trarv.  they  shared  them,  and  insisted  only  upon  keeping- 
tin-  milk  in  the  nuts.  This  consisted  of  only  a  t'e\v  drops 
of  rancid  oil ;  nor  had  the  solid  part  of  the  cocoa-nuts — a 
fact  to  be  remembered  by  those  who  buy  them  out  of  bar- 
rows— the  least  nourishment  in  it.  They  found  them- 
selves rather  worse  than  better  for  eating-  them. 

They  were  past  the  worst  pains  of  hunger  by  this  time, 
but  the  frenzied  desire  for  water  still  continued.  "Wa- 
ter, fresh  -  water,"  says  Mackay.  "was  what  perpetually 
haunted  my  imagination;  not  a  short  draught  which  I 
could  gulp  down  in  a  moment — of  that  I  could  not  en- 
dure the  thought — but  a  large  bowlful,  such  as  I  could 
hardly  hold  in  my  arms.  When  I  thought  of  victuals,  1 
only  longed  for  such  as  I  could  swallow  at  once  without 
the  trouble  of  chewing." 

Hope  now  began  to  animate  them,  and  thorgh  it  was 
the  twenty-first  day  of  their  sutt'erin;rs,  it  is  noteworthy 
that  no  one  died  after  they  lirst  saw  land.  Toward  even- 
ing six  of  the  stoutest  Lascars,  though  indeed  they  « en- 
all  shadows,  tied  themselves  to  spars,  and  reached  the 
shore.  They  found  a  stream  of  fresh  water,  of  which 
those  on  board  could  "see  them  drinking  their  (ill.1'  In 
the  morning  they  beheld  these  men  surrounded  by  na- 
tives, and  were  all  attention  to  see  what  sort  of  treat 
1 1  ie  nt  they  met  with.  The  natives  "immediately  kindled  a 
lire,  which  we  rightly  concluded  was  for  dressing  rice,  and 

then  came  down  to  the  water's  edge,  waving  handkerchiefs 
to  us  as  a  signal  that  we  should  come  ashore.  To  describe 
our  emotions  at  that  moment  is  impossible." 

Mill  these  poor  folks  could  not  gel  on  shore,  and  least  ol' 
all  the  poor  woman.  I'.oats  there  were  none-,  and  if  there 
had  been,  there  was  such  a  surf  between  the  ship  and  (In- 
land that  no  boat  could  live  in  it.  Mill  to  remain  was 
certain  death.  "I  felt  myself  called  upon,"  says  Mac 
kay,  "to  make  the  attempt."  With  great  ditlicnlU  he 
got  out  a  spar  and  tied  it  to  him  with  a  rope.  11. •  then 
took  leave  of  Mrs.  Mremner.  who  was  of  course  utterly  help 
less.  "She  dismissed  me  \\ith  a  thousand  good  wishes 

for  my  safety."     While  they  were  speaking,  the  spar  broke 

loose,  and  floated  away.  He  paused  one  moment,  then 
plunged  into  the  sea.  Though  he  could  "  hardly  move  a 
joint"  before,  his  limbs  i mmediatel y  became  limber  in  the 
\\aler.  and  Ihe  spar  helped  to  sustain  him;  hill  "being  a 

perfect  square,  ii  turned  round  \\iih  everj  motion  of  the 

water,  and  rolled  me  under  it."  Eventually,  ho\ve\er.  a 
tremendous  wave  carried  him  to  land. 

Some  natives,  speaking  in  the  Moorish  tongue — "at 
which  1  was  overjoyed,  for  I  feared  we  were  beyond  the 
Company's  territories,  and  in  those  of  ihe  KiiiLi  -of  Ava" 

observing  his  inetVectual  ell'orts  to  rise,  laid  hold  of  him 
and  bore  him  along.  As  they  passed  a  liltle  stream  lie 
made  signs  to  be  set  down.  "  1  immediately  fell  on  my 
face  in  the  water  and  began  to  gulp  it  down."  His  bear- 
ers finally  dragged  him  away  lest  lie  should  drink  too 
much.  They  look  him  to  a  lire,  round  which  the  Lascars 
were  silling,  and  gave  him  some  boiled  rice,  "but  after 
chewing  it  a  little  1  found  I  could  not  swallow  it."  One 
of  the  natives,  seeing  his  distress,  dashed  some  water  in 
his  face,  which,  washing-  the  rice  down,  almost  choked 
him,  but  "caused  such  an  exertion  of  the  muscles  that  I 
recovered  the  power  of  swallowing.  For  soni"  time,  how- 
ever, 1  was  obliged  to  take  a  mouthful  of  water  with  ev- 
ery one  of  rice.  My  lips  and  the  inside  of  my  mouth 
were  so  cracked  with  the  heat  that  every  motion  of  my 
jaws  set  them  a-bleeding  and  gave  me  great  pain." 

As  soon  as  he  was  a  little  recovered,  his  first  care  was 
for  Mrs.  Breruner,  and  on  pointing  out  that  she  had  some 
money  about  her.  the  natives  were  persuaded  to  take  her 
off  the  ship.  This  was  accomplished  only  a  few  hours 
before  it  parted  in  two.  She  was  totally  unable  to  walk, 
but  her  remaining  rupees,  joined  to  liberal  promises,  to  be 


performed  on  her  reaching  her  journey's  end,  procured 
her  a  litter,  in  which  she  was  conveyed  to  Chittagong. 

No  woman  probably  ever  went  through  such  an  expe- 
rience and  survived  it  as  this  unhappy  lady.  Macka\, 
having  no  money — for  Mrs.  Bremner  had  no  more  to  give 
him — had  to  walk,  and  speedily  broke  down.  The  natives 
left  him  behind  without  a  scruple.  He  fell  in,  however, 
with  a  party  of  Mugs,  the  chief  of  whom  was  full  of  human 
kindness.  He  washed  Maekay's  wounds,  which  were  fill- 
ed with  saucl  and  dirt,  supplied  him  with  rice,  and  en- 
deavored to  teach  him  how  to  make  lire'  by  rubbing  two 
pieces  of  bamboo  together.  Mackay  finally  arrived  at 
Chittagong,  though  in  a  pitiable  condition. 

In  a  postscript  to  this  miserable  story  he  says,  "With 
respect  to  the  fate  of  my  companions  in  misfortune,  Mrs. 
IJremner,  having  recovered  her  health  and  spirits,  was  aft- 
erward well  married."  So  it  seems  that  with  time  and 
courage  one  really  does  get  over  almost  everything. 


BUSY  BIRDS. 

BY  MAKCIA  BKADBl  KY  .7OKDAN. 

A  BTCOAD  green  marsh,  wilh  sullen  pools 
Of  brackish   wnler  here  and   there. 
With  mounds  of  liny   (in    wooden    piles. 
And  si|Uiires  of  yellow  flowers  like  tiles, 
And  swamp-rosemary  everywhere. 

Tlie  straight  road  stretches,  gray  with  dust, 
Fruin  distant   pine-trees  to  Ihe  hill; 
The  warm   lireatli   of  an   :iiitiiiiin   day 
I'revails,  and   wilh   ils.  languid  sway 

Keeps    e\ery    lillle    song-bird    still. 

Kill    all   alnng  the   wire  line 
That   telegrams  nnmimliered   brings. 
Small  chirping  birds  are  perched  secure, 
\\illi   down-bent  head   and   mien   demure. 
And  gra\ -brow  n   tightly   folded  wings. 

And   do   \  on   a-K,  dear  girU  and   buys, 
\\  hal    calls  these  flatterers  from  home, 
\Vliy   resllessly   they  care  lo  main 
Far   from   Ihe   foliage  guaidi  d    nest'.' 
A    new    idea    lia-  ci  >me   lo   me ; 
1    \\onder  if  you    u  ill   airrcc 
To   what    I'm  going  to  suggest, 

When   in  some  quite  mysterious  way 
A  trifling  fault   strikes  mamma's  ears, 
I'm  confident  you  must   have  heard 
Of  thai   eoiiiniunicalive  bird 
Who's  always  telling  all  lie  hears. 

A   little  bird  told  me.  she  sa\  s. 
Of  what    I    never  should  suspect. 
Suppose  these  listening  songsters  light 
I'pon    the   wires  (here   in   siuhl 
To   irel    the   latest    news  direi  I  ' 

If  they're  ihe  gossips  of  bird  land. 
Reporters  for  the  "  Night  hawk  Press," 
Then  very  likely  they  indulge 
In   c.tlier  meddling,  and  divulge 
The  tiny  secrets  so  few  guess. 

They  hover  near  the  open  door 

In  summer;   past  Ihe  eaves  they  dart, 

And  very  likely  understand 

When  any  hidden  mischief's  planned, 

And  straightway  hasten  to  impart, 

To  those  they  think  it  may  concern. 
Their  interesting  items.      Why. 
I  seem  id  see  tiieir  bright,  eyes  shine, 
Their  cunning  beads  sideways  incline 
Inquisitively,  full  of  joy. 

The  only  way  I  know  is  .this — 
To  alwa'ys  try  to  do  so  well 
That  when  the  busy  birds  appear 
To  carry  secrets  through  the  air. 
They  won't  have  anything  to  tell 
Except  those  messages  that  bless 
Obedience  and  truthfulness. 


MAPPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOL  I '.ME  IV. 


A    LITTLE    PlIILUSorilKK. 


NAN  .* 


BY    MRS.  JOIIX    L1LLIK, 

AUTIIOIS  CJF  "  MII.IIKEH'S  KAI:<;.UN."  "  AINT  Kern's  TEMPTATION. "  ETC. 


CHAPTER  III. 

NAN'S  visitor,  Miss  Rolf,  left  the  little  shop,  and  walked 
away  in  the  winter's  dusk  up  the  ruaiii  street,  and 
down  one  of  the  more  secluded  streets,  where  the  "upper 
ten"  nf  1-Jnmitield  lived.  Brointield  was  a  large  dull 
town,  full  of  factories  and  smoke,  and  had  a  general  air 
of  business  and  money-making.  The  houses  on  the  pretty 
street  to  which  Miss  Rolf  directsd  her  steps  seemed  to  be 
shut  away  from  all  the  dust  and  noise  of  the  town,  and 
Mrs.  Grange's  gateway  was  the  finest  and  most  aristocratic- 
looking  one  in  the  row.  Miss  Rolf  went  in  at  the  gale,  |>a>t 
a  pretty  lawn  dotted  with  cedars,  to  the  side  entrance  of  a 
long  low  stone  house,  within  the  windows  of  which  lights 
wen-  already  twinkling'.  She  had  a  curious,  amused 
smile  on  her  face  as  she  went  down  the  hall,  and  it  had 
not  faded  when  she  entered  the  parlor  fronting-  the  garden 
and  the  lawn. 

Three  people  were  seated  in  the  lire-light — an  elderly 
lady  with  a  pale  sweet  face,  a  tall  boy  of  fifteen,  and  a 
gentleman  whose  face  was  like  Miss  Rolf's  in  regularity 
of  feature,  but  much  softer  in  expression. 

In  the  luxurious  room  Miss  Rolf  looked  much  more  in 

"!  Begun  iu  No.  157,  HAUPKH'S  Yoi'M:  PKOPI.L. 


her  place  than  in  Mr.  Rupert's  butter  shop, 
and  if  Nan  could  have  seen  her  "second 
cousin  Phyllis"  there,  she  would  have  been 
more  than  ever  certain  that  she  belonged  to 
those  who  bad  the  money. 

Miss  Rolf  was  greeted  by  all  three  occu- 
pants of  the  room  at  once. 

•'Well,  Phyllis?" — from  the  gentleman. 
"Did  you  see  her '!" — this  from  the  boy. 
"Well,  what  happened?" — this  from  the 
lady. 

Miss  Rolf  sank  into  one  of  the  many  easy- 
chairs,  and,  leaning  back,  began  to  draw  oft' 
her  long  gloves. 

"Yes,  I  saw  her,"  she  answered,  smiling. 
"  It  was  really  very  interesting.  Quite  like 
something  in  a  story.  There  was  the  horri- 
ble little  store,  and  Mrs.  Rupert,  a  vulgar  sort 
of  woman ;  and  then  the  little  girl  came  in 
dreadfully  untidy  and  dowdy-looking,  but 
really  not  at  all  so  common  as  I  feared.  She 
has  the  hazel  eyes  every  one  admired  so  in 
her  father." 

' '  And  did  you  tell  her  that  her  aunt  Letitia 
uaiits  her  to  go  to  Beverley ;"  said  the  boy, 
eagerly. 

"No,  I  didn't,"  rejoined  Miss  Rolf.  "I 
thought  I'd  do  that  when  I  went  to-morrow. 
There  was  no  time,  to  discuss  the  matter. 
Besides,  1  wanted  to  see  the  child  alone 
first.".- 

"Why  not  send  for  her  to  come  here;" 
Mrs.  Grange  said,  gently. 

"Not  a.  bad  idea,"  said  Miss  Rolf,  sitting 
upright.  "She  might  come  to-morrow,  in- 
stead of  my  going  there." 

"I  can't  help  thinking  Letitia  will  regret 
it."  said  the  .gentleman,  who  was  Miss  Rolf's 
father. 

^^B       "Why  should  she,  papa?''  said  the  boy, 

quickly.      "Surely  it  is  only  fair.      Her  fa- 
ther was  left  out  of  Cousin  Harris's  will  just 
for  a  mere  caprice,  and  why  should  Cousin 
Letty  have  everything,  and  this  child  nothing  ;     I  don't 
see  the  justice  of  that." 

"  But  to  remove  her  from  a  low  condition ;  to  place  her 
among  people  she  never  knew — I  am  afraid  it  is  unwise," 
said  Mr.  Rolf,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  don't  understand 
it,  Lance;  I  don't  expect  you  to..  Just  wait,  and  see  my 
words  come  true." 

Lance,  or  Lancelot  Rolf,  laughed  brightly.  He  seemed 
quite  prepared  to  take  the  risks  on  Miss  Letitia  Rolf's  ven- 
ture. While  Miss  Rolf  wrote  her  letter  to  little  Nan,  the 
boy  watched  her  earnestly.  He  was  intensely  interested 
in  this  new-found  cousin,  and,  had  he  known  where  to  go, 
would  certainly  have  paid  a  visit  to  the  cheese-monger's 
family  himself. 

He  would  have  found  an  excited  little  party  had  he 
done  so,  for  by  eight  o'clock  Mrs.  Rupert  had  indulged  in 
every  possible  speculation  about  Nan's  future.  Mr.  Ru- 
pert, a  tall,  thin,  weather-beaten  man,  had  come  in  for 
tea,  and  was  told  of  the  visitor,  and  obliged  to  hear  all 
Mrs.  Rupert's  ideas  and  hopes  on  the  subject,  while  Nan 
herself  was  the  only  quiet  member  of  the  party.  She 
sat  at  the  tea-table,  for  once  in  her  life  very  quiet  and 
repressed.  Just  what  she  hoped  or  thought  she  could 
not  have  told  you;  but  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  something 
like  her  old  life  with  her  parents  might  be  coming  back. 
Could  it  be  she  was  to  go  away,  and  leave  Bromfield,  the 
cheeses  and  butter  and  eggs,  her  aunt's  loud  voice,  Ma- 
rian's little  airs  of  superiority,  and  Phil's  rough  kindness, 
forever  behind  her  '. 

"  Come.  Nan,  you  mav  as  well  help  with  the  tea-things, 


NOVEMIiKR  T,  1882. 


1 1  A  UPEft'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


if  you  nrc  going  to  see  your  rich  relations,"  said  her  aunt's 
voice,  sharply  recalling  her  to  her  duties,  and  Marian 
laughed  scornful  I  \  . 

"I  don't  suppose  we'll  know  Xaii,  or  she  us,  by  to-mor- 
row night,"  she  said,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

Early  the  next  morning  a  man-servant  from  Mrs. 
(.(range's  brought  a  note  for  Nan,  which  she  read  in  the 
little  untidy  parlor,  surrounded  by  all  the  family.  It  was 
from  Miss  Rolf,  requesting  Nan  to  conic  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble to  Mrs.  Grange's  house,  and  it  produced  a  new  flutter 
in  the.  household.  Nan  was  dressed  by  Mrs.  Rupert  and 
Marian  in  everything  that  either  of  the  girls'  scanty  ward- 
robe possessed  worth  putting  on  for  such  a  visit.  Had 
she  but  known  it,  a  much  simpler  toilet  would  have  been 
far  more  appropriate  and  becoming,  for  her  purple  merino 
dress  and  Marian's  red  silk  neck-tie,  her  "best''  hat  with 
Its  LTi-een  Feathers,  and  Mrs.  Rupert's  soiled  lavender  kid 
gloves,  were  a  very  dreadful  combination.  Nan,  as  she 
walked  up  Main  Street,  did  not  feel  entirely  satisfied  with 
the  costume  herself.  If  her  head  had  not 
been  so  dazed  by  what  the  Ruperts  already 
called  her  "good  fortune,"  she  would  have 
felt  it  all  more  keenly.  As  it  was,  she 
went  into  Mrs.  Grange's  gateway  feeling 
herself  in  a  dream,  and  wondering  how 
and  where  she  would  wake  up. 


amil   Let  ilia,  your  father's  older  sister,  is  strong  and  well, 
and  they  live  together  at  Beverley.      Miss  Letitia  has  slid 
denly  taken  it  into  her  head  to  hunt  you  up.  and  as  my  fa- 
ther and  I  were  coming  here  on  a  visit,  she  asked  me  to 
try  and  lind  you." 

Miss  Rolf  paused,  and  Nan,  who  sat  very  still,  her  ha/el 
e\  es  lixed  011  the  young  lady's  face,  nodded,  and  said,  in  a 
sort  of  whisper,  "  Thank  you." 

"Your  aunt,"  continued  Phyllis,  smiling  pleasantly, 
''told  me  that  I  was  to  invite  you,  in  her  name,  to  come 
on  a  visit  to  Beverley.  Mind,  Nan,  don't  get  it  into  your 
head  that  it  is  more  than  a  visit — unless  you  prove  so  nice 
and  pleasant  a  little  visitor  that  she  will  want  you  to  stay 
always." 

Nan's  face  broke  into  a  smile  that  made  her  really 
pretty. 

"I'll  try  and  be  pleasant,"  she  said,  brightly. 

"So  you  would  like  to  go?''  said  Miss  Phyllis,  looking 
at  her  earnestly.  "Wouldn't  you  miss — the  Ruperts  C 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NAN  was  admitted  by  a  very  grave- 
looking  man-servant,  who,  on  hearing  her 
name,  led  her  down  the  softly  carpeted  hall, 
and  upstairs  to  the  door  of  a  cozy  little  sit- 
ting-room, where  Miss  Holt'  was  wafting  for 
her.  The  many  luxuries  of  the  room,  its 
brightness  and  air  of  reliiiement,  made 
Nan  half  afraid  to  go  farther,  and  sudden- 
ly she  seemed  to  feel  the  vulgarity  of  her 
own  dress;  but  her  "  second  cousin,"  Miss 
Rolf,  smiled  very  pleasantly  upon  her  from 
I  lie  window,  and  cumin";  up  to  the  little 
girl,  kissed  her  alt'eclionately. 

Miss  Rolf  in  the  morning  light,  and  in 
a  long  dress  of  pale  gray  woollen  materi- 
al, looked  to  Nan  like  nothing  less  than  a 
princess.  She  was  apparently  a  1  unit  twen- 
ty one  or  two,  with  a  fair  face,  soft  waves 
of  blonde  hair,  and  eyes  that  looked  to 
Nan  like  stars,  t  hey  were  so  bright,  and  yet 
soft  with  all  their  sparkle.  Nan  scarcely 
noticed  the  imperious  curve  of  her  new 
cousin's  pretty  mouth  or  the  disdainful 
pose  of  the  head.  She  thought  of  nothing 
then  but  her  beauty  and  grace  and  charm- 
ing manners. 

"  Well,  my  dear."  this  da//.ling  princess 
said,  ' '  take  off  your  hat  and  cloak,  and  sit 
down  by  the  fire.  I  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you."  Nan,  very  much  subdued  by 
everything  she  saw  about  her,  obeyed, 
while  Miss  Rolf  seated  herself  in  a  low 
chair,  and  looked  at  her  little  cousin  crit- 
ically. 

"Now,  Nan."  she  said,  gravely,  ''do  you 
know  that  your  father  would  have  been  a 
very  rich  man  but  for  an  absurd  quarrel  with  his  elder 
brother  ?" 

"I  knew  there  was  something,"  said  Nan,  who  was 
afraid  of  her  own  voice. 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Miss  Rolf,  "  when  your  grand- 
father died,  he  left  everything  to  his  elder  son  and  daugh- 
ter. The  son,  your  uncle  Harris,  is  a  confirmed  invalid 
—  indeed,  he  is  not  altogether  right  in  his  mind — but  your 


"NAN    WAS    DRESSED    BY    MRS.  RUPERT    AND    MAKFAN." 


Nan's  face  flushed. 

''Yes,"  she  said,  looking-  down,  "I  shall  miss  aunt — 
and  Philip." 

Miss  Phyllis  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  She  had  more 
to  tell,  but  she  thought  it  as  well  not  to  say  it  now.  She 
had  taken  a  sudden  fancy  to  Nan;  she  wanted  the  child 
to  come  to  Beverley,  and  perhaps,  if  she  told  her  all,  Nan 
would  refuse:  at  least,  looking  at  the  child's  honest,  fear- 


6 


IIATIPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


less  eyes,  she  felt  it  more  prudent  to  say  110  more.  So 
Nan  was  told  tliat  she  was  to  go,  if  she  liked,  in  a  week, 
to  her  grandfather's  and  her  father's  old  home. 

"Your  aunt  thought,"  said  Miss  Phyllis,  "that  you 
might  need  some  new  clothes.  You  see,  you  will  have  to 
dress  more  at  her  house  than  here  in  Bromneld,  and  so  we 
will  take  a  week  to  get  you  ready.  Perhaps  it  would  be  as 
well  for  you  to  stay  here  to-day,  and  go  out  with  me." 

Nan's  eyes  danced.  Never  hut  once  since  she  lived  in 
Bromfleld  had  she  owned  an  entirely  new  dress.  Every- 
thing she  wore  had  been  "made  over"  from  Mrs.  Kupert's 
or  Marian's,  and  she  faintly  understood  that  new  clothes 
of  Miss  Phyllis's  buying  would  be  something  unt bought 
of  in  the  Rupert  mind. 

"I'll  leave  you  here  a  little  while,  Nan."  said  the  young 
lady,  •'and  you  can  amuse  yourself  with  the  books  and 
papers." 

But  Nan  needed  nothing  of  the  kind.  When  the  door 
was  closed,  she  uttered  a  little  half-scream  of  delight,  and 
jumped  up.  walking  over  to  the  window,  where  she  look- 
ed out  at  the  dull  town  lying  smoky  and  hazy  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  which  she  felt  sure  she  was  about  to  leave  for- 
ever. She  hardly  heard  Miss  Phyllis  returning,  and  felt 
startled  by  the  sound  of  her  voice,  saying,  "Nan,  are  you 
ready?"  And  there  was  the  beautiful  young  lady  in  her 
furs  and  broad-brimmed  hat,  with  a  purse  and  a  little  note- 
book in  her  hand,  ready  to  lead  Nan  into  the  first  scene  of 
her  enchantment. 

[TO    BE    COXTIXl'KIl.] 


VENOMOUS  SNAKES. 

BY  W.  L.  ALDEX. 
"TTENOMOUS  snakes  are  those  which  have  two  hollow 

V  teeth  in  the  upper  jaw  through  which  they  inject  poi- 
son into  the  wound  made  by  their  bite.  The  great  major- 
ity of  snakes  are  not  venomous,  but  nevertheless  there  are 
more  venomous  snakes  in  the  world  than  most  men  real- 
ly require. 

There  are  two  classes  of  venomous  snakes — those  whose 
bite,  is  certain  death,  and  those  whose  bite  can  be  cured. 
The  only  venomous  snake  inhabiting  Europe  is  the  viper, 
but  its  bite  is  seldom  fatal.  In  the  United  States,  with  the 
possible  exception  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  there  are 
only  three  venomous  snakes — the  rattlesnake,  the  copper- 
head, and  the  moccasin.  All  our  other  snakes  are  harm- 
less. In  some  places  the  copperhead  is  known  as  the  flat- 
headed  adder,  but  the  other  species  of  snakes,  to  which 
the  name  "  adder"  is  often  given  by  country  people,  are  as 
harmless  as  the  pretty  little  garter-snake. 

Central  and  South  America  have  many  venomous 
snakes  whose  bite  is  always  fatal.  Among  these  the  best- 
known  are  the  coral-snake,  the  tuboba,  and  the  duma  blan- 
ca.  A  British  naval  vessel,  on  its  way  up  a  South  American 
river  a  fe\v  years  ago,  anchored  for  the  night,  and  a  num- 
ber of  theofficers  thought  they  would  go  ashore,  and  sleep 
in  a  deserted  shanty  that  stood  on  the  bank,  where  they 
fancied  that  the  air  would  be  cooler  than  it  was  on  board 
the  vessel.  When  they  reached  the  shanty,  one  of  them 
said  he  thought  he  would  go  back  to  the  ship,  and  all  the 
others,  with  one  exception,  said  that  they  would  follow 
him.  The  officer  who  determined  to  stay  swung  his  ham- 
mock from  the  beams  of  the  roof,  and  was  soon  asleep. 
He  woke  early  in  the  morning,  and,  to  his  horror,  found 
that  three  snakes  were  sleeping  on  his  body,  and  that  oth- 
ers were  hanging  from  the  rafters  or  gliding  over  the 
floor.  He  recognized  among  them  snakes  whose  bite 
meant  death  within  an  hour  or  two,  and  he  did  not  dare  to 
move  a  lingi'i-.  He  lay  in  his  hammock  until  the  sun 
grew  warm  and  the  snakes  glided  back  to  their  holes. 
His  companions  had  noticed  that  the  place  looked  as  if  it 

was  infested  with  snakes,  but  had  cruelly  refrained  from 
warning  him.  The  officer  was  one  of  the  bravest  men 


that  ever   lived,  but  he  could  never  speak  of  his  night 
among  the  snakes  without  a  shudder. 

In  one  of  the  West  India  Islands — Martinique — then- 
is  a  snake  called  the  lance-headed  viper,  which  is  al- 
most as  deadly  as  the  coral-snake.  The  East  Indies  are 
full  of  venomous  snakes,  and  in  British  India  nearly 
twenty  thousand  persons  are  killed  every  year  by  snake 
bites.  Of  the  East  Indian  snakes  whose  bite  is  incurable 
the  cobra  is  the  \\\«-\  numerous,  but  the  diamond-snake, 
the  tubora,  and  the  ophiophagus  are  also  the  cause  of  a 
great  many  deaths.  The  British  government  has  ottered 
a  large  reward  for  the  tiiscovery  of  an  antidote  to  the  poi- 
son of  the  cobra,  but  no  one  has  yet  been  able  to  claim  it- 
Africa,  like  all  tropical  countries,  has  many  species  of 
venomous  snakes.  The  horned  cerastes  is  the  snake  from 
whose  bite  Cleopatra  is  said  to  have  died,  and  from  its  small 
size,  and  its  habit  of  burying  itself  all  but  its  head  in  the 
sand,  it  is  peculiarly  dreaded  by  the  natives.  The  ugliest 
of  these  snakes  is  the  great  puff-adder,  which  often  grows 
to  the  length  of  live  or  six  feet,  and  whose  poison  is  used 
by  the  natives  in  making  poisoned  arrows. 

It  is  a  very  curious  fact  that  the  poison  of  venomous 
snakes  can  not  be  distinguished  by  the  chemist  from  the 
white  of  an  egg.  And  yet  one  kind  of  snake  poison  will 
produce  an  etl'ecl  entirely  unlike  that  produced  by  another 
kind.  The  blood  of  an  animal  bitten  by  a  cobra  is  decom- 
posed and  turned  into  a  thin,  watery,  straw-colored  fluid, 
while  the  blood  of  an  animal  bitten  by  a  coral-snake  is 
solidified,  and  looks  very  much  like  currant  jelly.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  poison  of  the  cobra  and  that  of  the  coral- 
snake  seem  to  be  precisely  alike  when  analyzed  by  the. 
chemist,  and  are  apparently  composed  of  the  same  sub- 
stances in  the  same  proportion  as  is  the  white  of  an  egg. 


THE  TRAIN-BOY'S  FORTUNE. 

I'.Y  ELIOT  McCORMICK. 
I. 

PAPERS !  Harper's  Weekly !  Bazar !  All  the  month- 
ly maga/ines!" 

Jim  Richards  wished  that  he  might  have  a  dollar  for 
every  time  he  had  repeated  that  cry.  He  was  sure  he  had 
said  it,  during  the  three  years  lie  had  been  train-boy  on  the 
road  between  Philadelphia  and  New  York,  as  many  as 
fifty  thousand  times.  Even  ten  cents  each  time  would 
give  him  five  thousand  dollars.  What  could  he  not  do 
with  as  much  money  as  that  ''.  His  mother  should  have  a 
new  dress,  for  one  thing.  He  would  give  little  Pete  for 
his  birthday  the  box  of  tin  soldiers  in  the  toy-shop  win- 
dow; and  Lizzie,  for  hers,  the  doll  on  which  her  heart  was 
set.  Then  they  would  all  move  into  a  new  house  some- 
where in  the  country,  instead  of  their  wretched  tenement 
in  New  York.  Jim  himself  would  give  up  his  place  as 
train-boy  and  go  into  the  company's  machine  shop,  which 
he  could  not  do  now,  because  his  earnings  from  the  sale 
of  the  papers  were  pretty  good,  while  the  machine-shop 
wages  would  be  for  some  time  small.  But  these  were 
dreams;  the  train  was  approaching  Trenton,  where  Jim 
would  find  the  New  York  evening  papers,  and  he  had  still 
to  go  through  the  last  car.  It  was  Saturday  evening,  and 
he  must  make  enough  to  buy  his  mother's  Sunday  dinner. 

"Papers!"  he  cried,  slamming  the  door  after  him,  and 
beginning  to  lay  them  one  by  one  in  the  laps' of  the  passen- 
gers. The  first  passenger  was  an  old  gentleman,  and  in 
his  lap  Jim  laid  a  copy  of  a  weekly  paper. 

"Take  it  away!"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "I  don't 
want  it." 

Jim,  in  his  hurry,  had  passed  on  without  hearing. 

"  What!  You  won't,  eh  ?"  the  old  man  went  on,  pro- 
voked by  Jim's  seeming  inattention.  "Then  I'll  get  rid  of 
it  myself." 

Crumpling  it  up  into  a  ball,  he  turned  around  and  threw 


.  1882. 


HARPER'S  YorXG  PEOPLE. 


:l  \  lolently  down  tln>  aisle,  ii:irri>\vl y  missing  Jim's  head, 
anil  landing  it  in  the  lap  of  an  old  lady  on  the  opposite 
side. 

"You  won't  lay  any  more  papers  in  my  lap.  I  guess." 
he  added,  shaking  his  head  threateningly  as  .lim  came 
hack. 

.lim  was  anirry.      He  pi  eked  up  the  paper  and  smoothed 
it  out  as  well  as  he  could,  lint  it  was  hopelessly  damaged 
and  i ne  would  think  of  Inlying  it. 

"You'll   have   to   pay    me   ten    ceiils    for   that,"  he   ex 
claimed. 

The  train  was  now  shirking,  and  the  old  gentleman. 
who  was  evidenlly  hound  for  Trenton,  had  risen  from  his 

seat. 

"Not  a  cent."  lie  declared:  "nol  a  single  cent!  Yon 
hadn't  any  business  to  put  it  in  my  lap.  I  told  you  not 
to.  hnl  you  persisted  in  leaving  it  there.  You  train  hoys 
are  a  nuisance.  It  'II  he  a  lesson  to  you." 

"lint   I'll  have  to  pay   for  it   myself,"  cried  Jim. 

"Serve  you  ri^ht.  You'll  have  tell  cents  less  to  spend 
for  cigarettes." 

l!y  this  lime  the  train  had  stopped,  and  the  passengers 
were  crowding  out.  The  old  man  was  already  on  the 
platform,  and  Jim  was  standing  hy  the  seat,  angrily  iin- 
ccrlain  whether  to  follow  him  out  or  stay  and  pick  up  the 
few  papers  he  had  distributed  hefon  retiirninir  to  the  bag- 
gage car.  In  his  moment  of  1 1 1 1  ce  i't  a  i  1 1 1  y  lie  happened  to 

look  down  upon  the  Hour.  There  in  the  shadow  of  the 
seat  lay  a  long  leather  pocket-hook.  No  one  Imt  the  old 
gentleman  could  have  dropped  il.  Jim  stooped  and  pick- 
ed it  up.  Here  was  a  chance  to  pay  oil'  his  venerahle 

friend. 

Ill  another  instant,  though,  a  heller  impulse  came  to 
him. 

"What  would  mother  Bay?"  hi'  thought.  lie  threw 
down  his  papers,  rushed  to  the  door,  jumped  from  the 
steps,  and  ran  along  the  platform  through  the  crowd  ill 
pursuit  of  tin-  old  man.  hi  t  he  confusion  and  darkness 
il  was  not  easy  to  lind  anybody.  Jim  though!  he  saw 
him  a  little  way  ahead,  hnl  at  I  he  same  moment  the  hell 
raiiLT  for  Ihe  Iraiu  to  start.  Should  lie  follow  the  man 

or  not  .'  There  mils!  he  lime,  he  (bought.  In  a  nio: I 

more  lie  had  caught  up  with  the  person,  hut  il  was  not 
his  man  at  all.  Il  was  loo  had,  hnl  he  had  done  his  hesl. 
lie  did  not  know  that  where  lie  had  failed,  two  oilier 
persons  dark  looking  men.  whom  he  had  noticed  getting 
off  the  car — had  succeeded,  and  were  now  following  the 
old  gentleman  along  the  passageuax  that  leads  up  to  the 
street. 

Slill  uncertain  what  lo  do,  Jim  turned  around,  only  to 
see  Ihe  train  moving  oil'.  It  was  hut  a  few  steps  hack  to 
the  track,  and  Jim  ran  with  all  his  speed.  Hut  when  he 
got  Iheiv.  the  rear  platform  of  the  last  car  was  a  hundred 
yards  away,  and  all  thai  he  could  see  was  the  red  lanlep-n 
winking  at  him,  as  it  Seemed,  through  the  darkness. 

The  train  had  gone  oil'  with  all  his  papers,  including 
those  which  he  had  expected  to  sell  helween  Trenton  and 
New  York.  There  would  he  no  Sunday  dinner  to-mor- 
row; indeed.  Jim  would  he  lucky  if  he  were  not  discharged 

from  his  place. 

For  a  moment  Jim  was  bewildered.  Then  he  bethought 
himself  of  the  pocket-book.  He  would,  at  any  rate,  lind 
out  what  was  in  that,  only  no  one  must  see  him  do  it. 

So  he  walked  down  the  track  until  he  was  quite  out  of 
sight,  and  hy  the  light  of  a  match  carefully  opened  the 
leather  Map.  On  the  inside,  in  gilt  letters,  was  the  own- 
er's name — John  G.  Yanderpoel,  14  Sycamore  Street,  Tren- 
ton. Jim  had  no  excuse  now  for  uot  returning  it  at 
once. 

The  sight  of  the  name,  though,  brought  back  his  anger. 

"Old  screw!"  he  said,  half  aloud.  "1  guess  if  he'd 
only  known  what  was  going1  to  happen,  he'd  have  paid 
me  my  ten  cents.  Let's  see  what's  in  it,  anyhow." 


The  match  had  gone  out,  hut  Jim  had  another.  Strik- 
ing it.  he  looked  into  the  pockets,  one  of  which  seemed  to 
contain  something  green.  Jim  pulled  it  out  with  a  heat- 
ing heart.  Yes.  it  was  money — a  package  of  greenbacks 
--and  the  lahel  on  the  outside,  though  Jim's  hands  shook 
so  that  he  could  hardly  make  it  out.  read  "*5(>(Mi." 

II. 

Not  only  was  Jim  ignorant  that  the  old  gent leman  was 
being  followed,  hut  Mr.  Yanderpoel  did  not  know  it  him- 
self. He  walked  out  of  the  station  with  a  linn,  brisk  step, 
his  overcoat  lightly  buttoned  over  the  place  where  he 
supposed  his  money  to  he.  and  congratulating  himself  that 
he  had  at  length  collected  the  debt  which  it  represented. 

It  was  not  far  to  his  house,  which  was  in  a  side  street, 
and  occupied  several  lols  of  ground.  A  long  path  led  up 
from  Ihe  front  gate,  lined  with  shrubbery,  and  lighted 
»iil\  by  the  pah-  rays  that  gleamed  from  the  front  door. 
Alongside  of  ihe  path  stretched  a  little  duel;  pond.  It  was 
a  quiet,  retired  street,  and  when  Mr.  Vanderpoel  turned 
into  it.  he  left  the  crowd  behind.  He  did  nol.  leave,  how- 
ever, the  (wo  men  who  had  kept  him  in  sight  all  the  wav 
I'rom  the  station,  and  who  now  quickened  their  sleps  M> 
that  when  he  stopped  at  his  gate  they  were  not  more  than 
a  few  feet  in  the  rear.  Mr.  Yanderpoel  opened  the  gate 
and  went  in.  The  gate  swung  hack  on  its  hinges,  and 
was  held  open  by  one  of  the  men.  while  the  oilier  enter- 
ed. Not  hearing  the  latch  click.  Mr.  Yanderpoel  turned 
a  rnii  ml,  and  was  met  face  to  face  by  t  he  intruder. 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  f   he  demanded,  angrily. 

For  an  answer  the  old  gentleman's  arms  were  promptly 
sei/.ed  and  pinionel  behind  his  hack,  and  he  himself  was 
laid  at  full  length  along  the  garden  path. 

"  Keep  slill  now,"  hissed  a  rough  voice.  "We  ain't 
no  idea  o"  hurtin'  ye.  but  w  hat  we  want  is  them  live  thou- 
sand dollars." 

Il  was  not  the  slightest  use  to  struggle.  One  man  held 
him  fast  while  Ihe  oilier  went  through  his  pockets.  Pre- 
sent l\  the  lirst,  inquired  of  his  partner, 

"  Where  do  you  s'pose  he's  hid  it  f" 

If  it  was  the  money  they  were  speaking  of,  Mr.Yander 
poel  knew  perfectly  well  where  he  had  hid  it.       It  was,  or 
ought  lobe,  in   the  very  pocket  which  the  man  was  now7 
searching     the  breast  pocket  of  his  overcoat — and  he  wait- 
ed breathlessly  for  t  he  man's  answer. 

"  Don' I  know,"  growled  the  Ihief,  after  a  moment. 
"Tui n't  here." 

Mr.  Yanderpoel  almost  jumped.  If  it  were  not  there, 
w  here  could  it  be  '.  He  had  certainly  put  it  in  that  pock 
el.  I  le  was  glad,  of  course,  t  hat  t  he  t  h  ieves  could  nol  lind 
il.  bill  that  did  not  relieve  his  mind  as  to  its  safety.  How- 
ever, if  it  had  already  been  stolen,  or  if  he  had  lost  it,  he 
could  atl'ord  to  lie  still  and  enjoy  what  promised  to  be  a 
humorous  situation.  Indeed,  he  felt  almost  inclined  to 
laugh;  and  the  robbers  themselves,  it  seemed,  began  to 
reali/e  that  they  were  Ihe  victims  of  a  sell. 

"'Tain't  on  him  nowhere,"  gruffly  remarked  the  one 
who  had  been  making  the  search. 

"Feel  in  his  breeches  pocket ,"  suggested  the  other. 

The  man  transferred  his  hand  from  the  coat  to  the 
trousers  without  success.  ''Tain't  there  neither,"  he 
growled.  "  I  don't  believe  he  fetched  it  to-night." 

"There's  his  shoes,"  observed  the  first  man,  who  was 
evidently  the  more  persevering  of  the  two.  "  See  if  it 
ain't  in  them." 

The  other  tore  open  the  gaiters  and  dragged  them  oil'. 
The  cold  air  struck  Mr.  Vanderpoel's  stocking  feet  very 
unpleasantly,  and  filled  him  with  dismal  visions  of  rheu- 
matism and  gout;  but  he  bore  it  bravely,  and  by  a,  tre- 
mendous etl'ort  stopped  a  threatening  sneeze. 

"I  tell  yer  he  ain't  got  it,"  declared  the  first  man. 
"We're  left;  that's  what  it  is.  What  '11  we  do  with  the 
old  chap  ?" 


8 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


His  partner  scowled.      "Chuck  him  into  the  pond." 

He  chucked  into  a  pond  at  his  time  of  life,  and  -with  his 
rheumatism!  It  would  be  the  death  of  him.  The  pros- 
pect of  a  ducking-  loosened  his  tongue. 

"Help!  murder!  thieves!'' 

At  this  moment  the  gate  clicked.  Both  men  heard  the 
sound,  and  started  for  the  shrubbery  at  the  side  of  the 
path.  Almost  before  the  old  gentleman  was  aware  that 
they  had  gone,  their  retreating  footsteps  were  echoing 
down  the  street. 

Mr.  Vanderpoel  felt  that  he  was  saved.  He  would 
have  risen  to  his  feet  but  for  the  fact  that  his  shoes  were 
off.  The  person  who  had  come  in  the  gate,  and  who  was 
now  standing  before  him,  was  a  lad  dressed,  as  it  seemed 
to  Mr.  Yanderpoel's  confused  sight,  in  the  District  Tele- 
graph uniform. 

"Well,  young  man,"  he  exclaimed,"!  g-uess  you've 
saved  my  life.  Just  help  me  on  with  my  shoes,  will  you, 
and  we'll  go  into  the  house." 

It  was  some  time  before  Jim  could  take  in  the  situa- 
tion, and  he  stood  gazing  at  the  old  man  without  saying  a 
word. 

"What  are  you  staring  at  ?''  cried  Mr.  Vanderpoel,  hot- 
ly. "  Do  you  suppose  I'm  sitting  here  in  my  stocking  feet 
for  amusement  ?  I've  been  knocked  down  and  robbed — 
or  I  would  have  been  robbed  if  some  one  else  hadn't  done 
it  already.  If  any  thing  could  reconcile  one  to  the  thought 
of  being  robbed  by  one  set  of  thieves,  it  would  be  that  they 
left  nothing  for  the  next  set.  But  I  certainly  believe  they 
would  have  killed  me  if  you  hadn't  come  up.  Easy,  now'' 


HE    HANDED    OVER 


llooK.  WHICH    Mil.  YANDKKI'OEL    SEIZED." 


— as  the  boy  drew  the  gaiter  over  the  old  man's  knobby 
foot — "look  out  for  that  corn.  Now  the  other  one. 
There  !  never  mind  the  buttons.  Lend  me  your  arm, 
will  you?  I'm  lame  and  bruised  where  I  fell.  It  was 
lucky  I  didn't  hit  my  head.  Well,  I'm  sorry  I  losi  iln- 
money,  but  I'm  miv'hty  '_:lad  those  fellows  didn't  get  it." 
"Was  it  much:"  asked  the-  boy.  briefly.  They  had 


now  gone  up  the  steps,  and,  while  Mr.  Vanderpoel  drew 
out  his  hitch-key,  were  standing  in  the  light  that  gleamed 
through  the  door.  As  Mr.  Vanderpoel  turned  around, 
he  recognized,  as  he  had  not  done  before,  the  boy's  fea- 
tures. 

"  Hello !"  he  cried,  "you're  that  train-boy.     Yes,  it  was 
a  good  deal.      Do  you  know  anything  about  it  ?" 
Jim's  face  took  on  a  non-committal  look. 
"Well,"   he   said.  "I    found   something   in   the  cars. 
Perhaps   you'd    better    identify  it.      Prove   property,  you 
know." 

"Come  in."  said  Mr.  Vanderpoel.  drawing  Jim  inside 
and  closing  the  door.     "Was  it  a  pocket-book  you  found  i" 
Jim  nodded. 

"With  money  in  it  '."  eagerly. 
Jim  nodded  again. 

"Five   thousand   dollars  '."  Mr.  Van- 
derpoel whispered. 

"I  didn't  count  it,"  said  Jim,  briefly. 
"  There  it  is." 

He  handed  over  the  book,  which  Mr. 
Vanderpoel  sei/.ed  and  breathlessly 
opened.  The  money  was  in  lifty-dollar 
bills,  and  did  nol  take  long  to  count. 
When  counted  it  proved  to  be  all  right. 
"Yes."  said  Mr.  Yanderpoel.  deli-lil 
edly.  "  It's  all  there.  It  must  have 
dropped  out  of  my  pocket  when  I  threw 
that  paper  at  you  in  the  car.  Served 
me  right  for  making  such  a  lunatic  of 
myself!  But  what  a  sell!"  rubbing  his 
hands  gleefully.  "What  a  tremendous 
sell  on  those  villains  that  they  didn't 
get  a  penny  of  it!  Now  come  in  to  din- 
ner" leading  the  way  through  the  hall 
•"  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself.  You 
saved  my  life,  and  I'm  going  to  do  the 
correct  thing." 

And  so  the  train-boy  came  into  his 
fortune.  In  the  end  it  amounted  to  a 
good  deal  more  than  *r><><><),  for  Mr.  Vaii- 
derpoel's ideas  of  correctness  turned  out 
to  be  on  a  liberal  scale.  The  family  was 
brought  to  Trenton  and  put  in  a  neat 
little  cottage;  Pete  had  all  the  tin  sol- 
diers that  he  could  use,  and  Lizzie  more 
dolls  than  she  could  possibly  take  care 
of;  the  mother  got  her  dress,  and  .lim 
had  his  heart's  desire,  by  being  put,  not  in  the  company's 
machine-shop,  but  in  a  greal  deal  belter  one,  in  which  Mr. 
Vanderpoel  was  interested,  and  where  Jim  himself  will 
no  doubt  one  day  lie  an  owner.  P5ni  better  than  all  is 
the  sense  which  Jim  lias  of  having  fought  against  and 
overcome  a,  great  temptation.  And  this  sense.  I  think,  is 
(lie  train-Inn  s  fortune. 


\n\  KMIlKi:    7. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG   I'KOPLE. 


T1IK  SINGING 


]\\    M.  K.  SAN 

"HAT  an   inter 

eslinu'    picture 
they     make,    the    old 

music  master  and 
his  young  pupil !  By 

his  cow  led  head  we 
,ee  that  the  teacher 
is  a  monk,  and  we 
remember  to  have 

read  in  our  histories 
about  the  convent,, 
where,  during  the 

tierce  ci  .11  Ilicl,  ill'  t  lie 

Middle  A'jvs.  holy 
men  lived  peaceful 
lives,  wrote  I  looks, 
painted  pict  i ires,  and 
set  beautiful  Latin 
hymns  to  lovely 
music.  Those  times 
w  ere  w  ild  and  dark 
enonyli.  Tin-  brave 
young  men  w  ho  put 
on  the  armor  of 
knight  In  .i  nl  and  rode 
forth  to  defend  the 
weak  and  rlirhl 
the  oppressed  found 
plenty  to  do.  La 
die,  sat  in  their  COS 
t  le,.  working  endless 
piece,  of  tapestry  in 
stitches  which  have 
lately  been  revived 
l!o\  s  found  pleasure 
in  learning  all  sorts 
of  manly  sports. 
1 1  ere  and  there  one 
would  lie  found  who 
was  quiet  and  gentle, 
and  he  would  per- 
haps he  (allu'lll  to 
read  and  write,  and 
would  he  regarded  as 
a  wonderful  scholar. 

From  the  sweet 
rapt  look  on  the  face 
of  this  little  choris- 
ter we  see  that  he  is 
one  of  the  pure  and 
noble  natures  which 

would  not  care  for  lighting,  or  pitching  quoits,  or  rushing 
along  with  hawk  and  hounds.  He  loves  art.  and  puts  his 
whole  soul  into  its  study. 

The  gray  bearded  master  has  trained  many  hoys,  and 
while  kind  and  tender,  is  severe  in  requiring  his  pupils  to 
do  their  best.  The  scon which  the  boy 's  eyes  are  rest- 
ing is  familiar  to  him  through  long  years  of  use.  and  he 
feels  that  it  is  sacred.  He  shivers  with  horror  when  a 
note  is  flatted,  as  it  sometimes  is  by  a  giddy  singer  whose 
ear  is  not  accurate  or  whose  voice  is  not  disciplined. 

The  little  fellow  to  whom  the  master  is  listening  so 
critically  while  the  sweet  full  tone  chords  so  perfectly 
with  the  long-drawn  note  oil  the  violin  will  lie  only  one 
among  a  multitude  of  others  in  the  great  cathedral.  But 
when  the  choir  uplifts  the  Te  Deum  or  the  InHammatus 
with  its  waves  of  melody  floods  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  g-rand  church,  one  voice  untrained  and  out  of  tune 
might  mar  the  harmony. 


Tlir.    \oVIr]-:.-Fi:<iji  A  I'VINTIM;  v.v  M.  ALEXAMIKI:  II. .1:1,1:1 


THE  MULATTO  <>F  MUIMLLO. 

A  TKI'K  STORY. 

OXK  beautiful  summer  morninjf,  about  the  year  ll'i.'itl. 
several  youths  of  Seville  approached  the  dwelling  of 
the  celebrated  painter  Murillo,  where  they  arrived  nearly 
at  the  same  time.  After  the  usual  salutation  they  en- 
tered the  studio.  Murillo  was  not  yet  there,  and  each  of 
the  pupils  walked  up  quickly  to  his  easel  to  examine  if 
the  paint  had  dried,  or  perhaps  to  admire  his  work  of  the 
previous  evening. 

"  Pray,  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  Isturit/,  angrily,  ''which 
of  you  remained  behind  in  the  studio  last  night  ?" 

"What  an  absurd  question  !  Don't  you  recollect  that 
we  all  came  away  together  .'" 

With  these  words  Mendcz.  with  a  careless  air.  approach- 
ed his  easel,  when  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  es- 
caped him.  and  he  ga/.ed  in  unite  surprise  on  his  canvas, 


10 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Vor.fME  IV. 


on  which  was  roughly  sketched  a  most  beautiful  head  of 
the  Virgin. 

At  this  moment  some  one  was  heard  entering  the  room. 
The  pupils  turned  at  the  sound,  and  all  made  a  respectful 
obeisance  to  the  great  master. 

"Look,  Senor  Murillo,  look!''  exclaimed  the  youths,  as 
they  pointed  to  the  easel  of  Mendez. 

"Who  has  painted  this — who  has  painted  this  head, 
gentlemen?"  asked  Murillo,  eagerly.  "Speak;  tell  me. 
He  who  has  sketched  this  head  will  one  clay  be  the  master 
of  us  all.  Murillo  wishes  lie  had  done  it.  What  skill! 
Mendez,  my  dear  pupil,  was  it  you  ?" 

"  No,  seiior, "  replied  Mendez,  in  a  sorrowful  tone. 

"Was  it  you,  then,  Isturitz,  or  Ferdinand,  or  Carlos  ?" 

But  they  all  gave  the  same  reply  as  Mendez. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Cordova,  the  youngest  of  the  pupils, 
"that  these  strange  pictures  are  very  alarming.  To  tell 
the  truth,  such  wonderful  things  have  happened  in  your 
studio  that  one  scarcely  knows  what  to  believe." 

"What  are  they?"  asked  Murillo,  still  lost  in  admira- 
tion of  the  beautiful  head  by  the  unknown  artist. 

"According  to  your  orders,  senor,''  answered  Ferdi- 
nand, "we  never  leave  the  studio  without  putting  every- 
thing in  order;  but  when  we  return  in  the  morning,  not 
only  is  everything  in  confusion,  our  brushes  tilled  with 
paint,  our  palettes  dirtied,  but  here  and  there  are  sketches, 
sometimes  of  the  head  of  an  angel,  sometimes  of  a  demon, 
then  again  a  young  girl,  or  the  figure  of  an  old  man,  but 
all  admirable,  as  you  have  seen  yourself,  senor." 

"This  is  certainly  a  curious  affair,  gentlemen."  ob- 
served Murillo,  "  but  we  shall  soon  learn  who  is  this  night- 
ly visitant.  Sebastian,"  he  continued,  addressing  a  little 
mulatto  boy  about  fourteen  years  old,  who  appeared  at  his 
call,  "did  I  not  desire  you  to  sleep  here  every  night?" 

"  Yes,  master,"  said  the  boy,  with  timidity. 

"  And  have  you  done  so  ?" 

"Yes.  master." 

"Speak,  then:  who  was  here  last  night  and  this  morn- 
ing before  these  gentlemen  came  ?" 

"  No  one  but  me.  I  swear  to  you,  master,"  cried  the  mu- 
latto, throwing  himself  oil  his  knees  in  the  middle  of  the 
studio,  and  holding  out  his  little  hands  in  supplication  be- 
fore his  master. 

"Listen  to  me,"  pursued  Murillo.  "I  wish  to  know 
who  has  sketched  this  head  of  the  Virgin  and  all  the  Mg- 
ures  which  my  pupils  find  every  morning  here  on  coming 
to  the  studio.  This  night,  in  place  of  going  to  bed.  you 
shall  keep  watch,  and  if  by  to-morrow  you  do  not  discov- 
er who  the  culprit  is,  you  shall  have  twenty-five  strokes 
from  the  lash.  You  hear!  I  have  said  it.  Now  go  and 
grind  the  colors;  and  you,  gentlemen,  to  work." 

From  the  commencement  until  the  termination  of  the 
hour  of  instruction  Murillo  was  too  much  absorbed  with 
his  pencil  to  allow  a  word  to  be  spoken  but  what  related  to 
their  occupation;  but  the  moment  he  disappeared  conver- 
sation began,  and  naturally  turned  to  the  subject  in  which 
they  were  all  interested. 

''Beware,  Sebastian,  of  the  lash,"  said  Mendez,  "and 
watch  well  for  the  culprit;  but  give  me  the  Naples  yellow." 

"You  do  not  need  it,  Seiior  Mendez;  you  have  made  it 
yellow  enough  already;  and  as  to  the  culprit,  I  have  al- 
ready told  you  that  it  is  the  Zombi." 

"Are  these  negroes  fools  with  their  Zombi  ?"  said  Gon- 
zalo,  laughing.  "  Pray  what  is  a  Zombi  ?" 

"  Oh.  an  imaginary  being,  of  course.  But  take  care, 
Sefior  Gonzalo,"  continued  Sebastian,  with  a  mischievous 
glance  at  ins  easel,  "for  it  must  be  the  Zombi  who  has 
stretched  the  left  arm  of  your  St.  John  to  such  a  length 
that  if  the  right  resembles  it  he  will  be  able  to  untie  his 
shoe-strings  without  stooping." 

"  Do  you  know,  gentlemen, "said  Isturitz,  as  he  glanced 
at  the  painting,  "that  the  remarks  of  Sebastian  an-  ex- 
tremely just,  and  much  to  the  point?  Who  knows  but 


that  from  grinding  the  colors  he  may  one  day  astonish  us 
by  showing  he  knows  one  from  another  ?" 

It  was  night,  and  the  studio  of  Murillo,  the  most  cele- 
brated painter  in  Seville,  was  now  as  silent  as  the  grave. 
A  single  lamp  burned  upon  a  marble  table,  and  a  young 
mulatto  boy,  whose  eyes  sparkled  like  diamonds,  leaned 
against  an  easel.  Immovable  and  still,  he  was  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  his  meditations  that  the  door  of  the  studio  was 
opened  by  one  who  several  times  called  him  by  name, 
and  who,  on  receiving  no  answer,  approached  and  touch- 
ed him.  Sebastian  raised  his  eyes,  which  rested  on  a  tall 
and  handsome  negro. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here,  father  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  mel- 
ancholy tone. 

"To  keep  you  company,  Sebastian." 

"  There  is  no  need,  father;  I  can  watch  alone." 

"But  what  if  the  Zombi  should  come  ?" 

"  I  do  not  fear  him,"  replied  the  boy,  with  a  sad  smile. 

"He  may  carry  you  away,  and  then  the  poor  negro 
Gomez  will  have  no  one  to  console  him  in  his  slavery." 

"Oh,  how  sad!  how  dreadful  it  is  to  be  a  slave !"ex- 
claiincd  the  boy.  ueepinir  bitterly. 

"It  is  the  will  of  God."  replied  the  negro,  with  an  air 
of  resignation. 

"God  !"  ejaculated  Sebastian,  as  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
dome  of  the  studio,  through  which  the  stars  glittered — 
"God!  I  pray  constantly  to  Him.  my  father  land  He  will 
one  day  listen  to  me),  that  we  may  no  longer  be  slaves. 
But  go  to  bed.  father;  go,  go,  and  I  shall  go  to  mine  there 
in  that  corner,  and  I  shall  soon  fall  asleep.  Good-night, 
father,  good-night." 

"  Good-night,  my  son;"  and  having  kissed  the  boy,  the 
negro  retired. 

The  moment  Sebastian  found  himself  alone  he  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  joy.  Then  suddenly  checking  him- 
self, he  said:  "Twenty-five  lashes  to-morrow  if  I  do  not 
tell  who  sketched  these  figures,  and  perhaps  more  if  I  do. 
Oh,  my  God,  come  to  my  aid!"  and  the  little  mulatto 
threw  himself  upon  the  mat  which  served  him  for  a  bed, 
where  he  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

Sebastian  awoke  at  daybreak  ;  il  was  only  three  o'clock. 
"  Courage,  courage,  Sebastian,"  lie  exclaimed,  as  he  shook 
himself  awake:  "  three  hours  are  thine — only  three  hours; 
then  profit  by  them  ;  the  rest  belong  to  thy  master.  Slave  ! 
Let  me  at  least  be  my  own  master  for  three  short  hours. 
To  begin,  these  figures  must  be  ett'aced,"  and  seizing  a, 
brush,  he  approached  the  Virgin,  which,  viewed  bv  the 
soft  light  of  morn  ing,  appeared  more  beautiful  than  ever. 

"  Kti'ace  this!"  he  exclaimed — "efface  this!  No:  I  will 
die  first.  Efface  this — they  dare  not— neither  dare  I.  No 
— that  head — breathes — speaks;  it  seems  as  if  her  blood 
would  flow  if  I  should  offer  to  efface  it,  and  that  I  should 
be  her  murderer.  No,  no,  no;  rather  let  me  finish  it." 

Scarcely  had  lie  uttered  these  words,  when,  seizing  a 
palette,  he  seated  himself  at  the  easel,  and  was  soon  total- 
ly absorbed  in  his  occupation.  Hour  after  hour  passed 
unheeded  by  Sebastian,  who  was  too  much  engrossed  by 
the  beautiful  creation  of  his  pencil,  which  seemed  bursting 
into  life,  to  mark  the  flight  of  time. 

But  who  can  describe  the  horror  and  consternation  of 
the  unhappy  slave,  when,  on  suddenly  turning  round,  he 
beheld  all  the  pupils,  with  his  master  at  their  head,  stand- 
ing beside  him ! 

Sebastian  never  once  dreamed  of  justifying  himself, 
and,  with  his  palette  in  one  hand  and  his  brushes  in  the 
other,  he  hung  down  his  head,  awaiting  in  silence  the 
punishment  he  believed  that  he  justly  merited. 

Murillo  having,  with  a  gesture  of  the  hand,  imposed  si- 
lence on  his  pupils,  and  concealing  his  emotion,  said  in  a 
cold  and  severe  tone,  while  he  looked  alternately  from  the 
beautiful  picture  to  the  terrified  slave. 

"Who  is  your  master,  Sebastian  '." 


NOVKMUKR  7,  1882. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


11' 


"You."  replied  the  boy.  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible. 
"  I  mean  your  drawing-master."  said  Mnrillo. 

••  You.  sefior,"  a'jain  replied  the  trembling  slave. 
"li  can  not  !><•;  I  never  gave  you  Lessons,"  said  the  as- 
tonished ]>ainlei-. 

"  But  yon  gave  tliein  to  otliers.  and  1  listened  to  them." 

rejoined  the  boy.  emboldened  by  the  kindiiess  of  his  master. 

"And  you  have  done  better  than  listen:  yon  have  pro- 
fited hy  them,"  exclaimed  Mnrillo.  unahle  longer  to  con- 
ceal  his  admiration.  " Gentlemen,  does  this  boy  niei-it 
punishment  or  reward  '." 

At  the  word  punishment  Sebastian's  heart  beat  quick: 
the  word  reward  gave  him  a  little  courage;  but  fearing 
that  his  ears  deceived  him.  he  looked  with  timid  and  im- 
ploring eyes  toward  his  inastc  r. 

"  A  reward,  sefior."  cried  the  ini]iils.  in  a  breath. 

"Thai   is  well:   but   what  shall  it   be 

Sebastian  began  to  breathe. 

"Speak.  Sebastian."  said  Murillo.  looking  at  his  slave. 
"Tell  me  what  you  wish  for;  1  am  so  much  pleased  with 
your  beautiful  composition  that  1  will  grant  any  ivqueM 
you  ma\  make.  Speak,  then  ;  do  not  hi'  afraid." 

"  (  III.  master,  if  1  dared  And  Sebastian,  clasping1  his 

hands,  fell  at   the  feet  of  his  master. 

With   the  view  of  encoiiragini:1  him.  each  of  the  pupils 
i  --ted  some  favor  lor  him  to  demand. 

"  A^k  gold,  Sebastian." 

"Ask  rich  dresses.  Sebastian." 

"  Ask  to  he  received  as  ;\  pupil.  Sebastian." 

A  faint  smile  passed  over  the  countenance  of  the  slave 
at  the  last  words,  but  he  hung  down  his  head  and  remain- 
ed silent. 

"  (  'oine.  take  courage."  said  Murillo.  gay  l\  . 

"  The  master  is  so  kind."  said  Ferdinand,  half  aloud.  "  1 
would  risk  something;  ask  your  /';•<•<  i/inii.  Si-basi  ian.  ' 

At  these  words  Sebastian  uttered  a  cry  of  angui.-h.  and 
raising  his  eyes  to  his  master,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice 
choked  with  sobs.  "The  freedom  of  my  father:  the  free 
(loin  of  my  father!" 

"And  thine  also."  said  ilurillo,  who.  no  longer  able  to 
conceal  his  emotion,  threw  his  arms  round  Sebastian,  and 
pressed  him  to  his  In-east.  "  Your  pencil."  he  continui  d. 
".shows  that  \ou  have  talent;  your  request  proves  lhal 
you  have  a  heart;  the  artist  is  complete-.  From  ibis  day 
consider  yourself  not  only  as  my  pupil,  but  as  my  son. 
Happy  Murillo!  1  have  done  more  than  paint  1  have 
made  a  painter." 

Murillo  kepi  his  word,  and  Sebastian  Home/.,  better 
known  under  the  name  of  the  M  nlatto  ol'  M  nrillo,  hi  came 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  painters  ill  Spain.  There  may 
yet  be  seen  in  the  churches  of  Seville  the  celebrated  pic 
ture  which  he  had  been  found  painting  by  his  master,  and 
others  of  the  highest  merit. 


T1IK    IHVK    HAT. 
r.  v   1 1;  v  i  N(i   i..  ]•.!•:  M  \  \ 

DICK  SMITH'S  home  was  in  the  West,  and  as  the  in- 
cident I  am  about,  to  relate  happened  a  good  many 
years  ago,  he  must  have  been  then  only  thirteen  or  four- 
teen years  old.  He  was  a  brave,  hearty  lad,  full  of  en 
thusiasm  and  love,  of  adventure,  but  especially  abounding 
with  ingenuity,  and  always  doing  something  new  and  cu- 
rious. Thus  he  has  been  known  all  his  life  as  an  "  in- 
\enlor,"  and  still  shows  the  same  quality. 

He  lived  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  and  being  fond  of  the 
water,  became  an  expert  swimmer  and  oarsman.  Al- 
though he  had  no  gun,  yet  with  cunning  traps  and  many 
original  devices  he  caught  considerable,  game,  some  for 
its  fur,  and  some  for  its  meat.  It  is  about  one  of  his  boy- 
ish inventions  that  I  am  going  to  tell  you. 

At  certain  seasons  of  the  year  great  Hocks  of  duck's  came 
into  the  river,  and  staid  many  days  eating  the  Indian  rice 


(Zizauiii  <i<i><(ih'f<i}  that  grew  in  the  shallow  water.  But 
as  Dick's  father  had  no  shot-gun  or  any  convenient  way 
of  capturing  them,  the  ducks  came  and  went  unmolested. 

At  length  ingenious  Dick  set  to  work  to  contrive  some 
method  of  catching  them.  He  obtained  a  section  of  thin 
bark  from  some  tree,  and  arranged  so  that,  it  would  just 
slip  over  his  head  and  rest  on  his  shoulders,  like  the  crown 
of  a  large  old-fashioned  hat.  the  top  of  it  reaching  several 
inches  above  his  seal]). 

In  this  he  cut  holes  for  his  eyes  and  mouth,  so  that  he 
could  see  and  breathe.  He  also  fastened  leaves  and  vines 
on  the  top  and  around  it  to  partly  conceal  it. 

\Ylien  this  was  done,  he  put  it  on  and  started  for  the 
ducks.  Reaching  a  thicket  on  the  river's  brink  near  the 
game,  he  laid  aside  his  clothes  and  took  to  the  water.  He 
had  often  been  in  the  river  where  the  rice  grew,  and  knew 
just  what  ditliculties  he  would  have  to  overcome  in  swim- 
ming and  wading.  Out  he  went,  and  as  he  came  near  the 
ducks  he  moved  very  slowly  and  cautiously  so  as  not  to 
alarm  them. 

l'rett\  so,. n  lie  was  in  the  midst  of  an  immense  Hock, 
and  although  they  were  extremely  wary  and  quite  sus- 
picions of  the  vine  covered  bark,  yet  within  a  short  time 
he  succeeded  in  grasping  quite  a  number  by  I  he  legs,  and 
jerking  them  under  the  water.  AVlien  he  had  secured  all 
he  could  fairly  manage,  he  quietly  made1  his  way  home. 
His  catch  proved  most  delicious  e;  I  inir,  and  was  very  ac- 
ceptable to  the  family,  as  it  came  at  a  time  in  the  year 
when  no  other  meat  was  generally  available.  Frequent- 
ly while  the  wild  rice  lasted  did  he  repeat  the  operation, 
bringing  home  the  fat  test  specimens  t  hat  came  to  the  river. 

lint  one  da  \  as  he  sat  hen  eat  h  I  he  bushes  on  the  edge  of 
the  water  a boii I  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  home,  examining 
some  ducks  just  caught,  his  little  dog  by  his  side,  sudden- 
ly a  huge  panther  pounced  down  from  the  high  bank 
above,  and  rushed  for  the  dog.  Away  went  the  dog  for 
dear  life,  and  the  panther  after  him.  But  Dick  knew  well 
enough  that,  the  dog,  which  was  very  licet,  would  escape, 
and  that  ihe  yrcat  cat  would  soon  give  up  the  race  and 
come  hack  for  himself.  But  the  lad  had  no  notion  of  a  I' 
fording  the  panther  a  boy  for  dinner;  and  so,  perfectly 
cool  and  brave,  set  to  thinking  how  to  escape.  If  he 
should  run  away,  ihe  animal  would  follow  his  track  and 
soon  overtake  him,  for  he  could  not  equal  Ihe  dog  in 
speed;  if  he  should  climb  a  tree,  the  creature  could  excel 
him  in  climbing;  if  he  should  wade  or  swim  into  the  river 
and  the  panther  should  see  him,  she  might  follow  and  get 
him  there.  But  Dick  was  not  to  be  caught  so  easily ;  what 
worked  so  well  in  deceiving  ducks  might  do  even  better 
with  the  panther.  And  so,  instantly  slipping  on  his  "  duck- 
hat."  as  be  called  it.  he  waded  rapidly  into  the  water  a  few 
rods,  and  settled  down  so  that  he  could  just  breathe  and 
see,  and  turning  around,  watched  the  shore.  Hardly  had 
lie  reached  tins  position  when  the  panther  pounced  dow  n  as 
before  from  the  high  bank  and  began  smelling  and  look- 
ing for  the  boy.  Failing  to  detect  his  whereabouts,  she 
pawed  over  the  ducks  Dick  had  left:  and  since  she  could 
not  have  dog  or  boy  for  dinner,  she  decided  to  take  duck. 

Dick  felt  quite  certain  that  when  his  dog  reached  home 
in  fright  and  excitement  the  attention  of  the  family  would 
be  attracted,  and  his  father  would  shoulder  his  riHe  and 
start  out  to  investigate  the  matter.  And  Dick  was  not 
mistaken.  In  a  very  few  minutes  he  saw  his  father  in 
the  canoe,  swiftly  paddling  along  the  shore,  peering  sharp- 
ly for  his  boy.  But  the  spot  occupied  by  the  panther  was 
around  a  little  curve  in  the  bank,  where  she  would  not  see 
the  man  until  he  was  close  upon  her. 

Before  Mr.  Smith  readied  this  place  he  saw  the  lad's 
"duck  hat,"  and  Dick  contrived  to  lift  one  hand  carefully 
above  the  water  and  point  where  the  creature  was  dining. 

The  father  understood  the  signal,  and  giving  the  canoe 
a  strong  pull,  seized  the  gun,  and  prepared  to  fire  the  in- 
stant he  saw  anything'  to  fire  at.  A  moment  more  the 


12 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PKOIM.K. 


YOI.r.MK  IV. 


rifle's  sharp  crack  rang  out,  the  panther  sprang  into  the  air, 
and  foil  back  aiiioni;  tin-  ducks,  dead  as  they  were. 

Even  yet,  Dick,  now  elderly  "  Mr.  Jlichard  Smith,"  de- 
lights in  telling-  ho\v  he  escai>ed  in  a  "thick  hat"  from  a 
panther. 

ART. 

BY  .MM  MY    ItKOWN. 

OUR  town  has  heen  very  lively  this  winter.  First  \vo 
liad  t\\o  circuses,  and  then  we  had  the  small-pox,  and 
now  we've  got  a  course  of  lectures.  A  course  of  lectures 
is  six  men,  and  you  can  go  to  sleep  while  they're  talking, 
if  you  want  to,  and  you'd  hetter  do  it  unless  they  are  mis- 
sionaries with  real  idols  or  a  magic  lantern.  I  always  g-o 
to  sleep  before  the  lectures  are  through,  hut  I  heard  a  good 
deal  of  one  of  them  that  was  all  about  art. 

Art  is  almost  as  useful  as  history  or  arithmetic,  and  we 
ought  all  to  learn  it,  so  that  we  can  make  beautiful  things 
and  elevate  our  minds.  Art  is  done  with  mud  in  the  first 
place.  The  art  man  takes  a  large  chunk  of  mud  and 
squeezes  it  until  it  is  like  a  beautiful  man  or  woman,  or  wild 
bull,  and  then  he  takes  a  marble  grave-stone  and  cuts  it 
with  a  chisel  until  it  is  exactly  like  the  piece  of  mud.  If  you 
want  a  solid  photograph  of  yourself  made  out  of  marble, 
the  art  man  covers  your  face  with  mud,  and  when  it  gets 
hard  he  takes  it  off,  and  the  inside  of  it  is  just  like  a  mould, 
so  that  he  can  fill  it  full  of  melted  marble  which  will  be 
an  exact  photograph  of  you  as  soon  as  it  gets  cool. 

This  is  what  one  of  the  men  who  belong  to  the  course 
of  lectures  told  us.  He  said  he  would  have  shown  us  ex- 


"TIIE    MOMENT    THEY   SAW   THE   BABY   THEY    SAID  THE    MOST   DREADFUL    THINGS." 


actly  how  to  do  art,  and  would  have  made  a  beautiful 
portrait  of  a  friend  of  his,  named  Vee  Nuss,  right  on  the 
stage  before  our  eyes,  only  he  couldn't  get  the  right  kind 
of  mud.  I  believed  him  then,  but  I  don't  believe  him 
now.  A  man  who  will  contrive  to  get  an  innocent  boy 
into  a  terrible  scrape  isn't  above  telling  what  isn't  true. 
He  could  have  got  mud  if  he'd  wanted  it.  for  there  was 
mornamillioii  tons  of  it  in  the  street,  and  it's  my  belief 
that  he  couldn't  have  made  anything  beautiful  if  he'd  had 
mud  a  foot  deep  on  the  stage. 


As  1  said,  [  believed  everything  the  man  said,  and  whei 

the  lecture  was  over,  and  father  said,  "I  do  hope  Jimmy 
you've  got  some  benelit  from  the  lecture  this  time'';  and 
Sue  said,  "A  great  deal  of  benefit  that  boy  will  ever  get 
unless  he  gets  it  with  a  good  big  switch  don't  I  wish  1  u  as 
his  father!.)!  I'd  let  him  know,"  I  made  up  my  mind  that 
I  would  do  some  art  the  very  next  day,  and  show  people 
that  !  could  get  lots  of  benefit  if  I  wanted  to. 

I  have  spoken  about  our  baby  a  good  many  times.  It's 
no  good  to  anybody,  and  I  call  it  a  failure.  It's  a  year 
anil  three  months  old  now.  and  it  can't  talk  or  walk,  and 
as  for  reading  or  writing,  you  might  as  well  expect  it  to 
play  base-ball.  I  always  knew  how  to  read  and  write. 
and  there  must  be  something  the  matter  with  this  bahy, 
or  it  would  know  more. 

Last  Monday  mother  and  Sue  went  out  to  make  calls, 
and  left  me  to  take  care  of  the  baby.  They  had  done  that 
before,  and  the  baby  had  got  me  into  a  scrape,  so  1  didn't 
want  to  be  ox  posed  to  its  temptations:  but  the  more  I  begged 
them  not  to  leave  me.  the  more  they  would  do  it,  and  mo- 
ther said,  "I  know  you'll  stay  and  be  a  good  boy  while 
we  go  and  make  those  horrid  calls,'1  and  Sue  said,  "I'd 
better  or  I'd  get  what  I  wouldn't  like." 

After  they'd  gone  I  tried  to  think  what  I  could  do  to 
please  them,  and  make  everybody  around  me  better  and 
happier.  After  a  while  I  thought  that  it  would  be  just 
the  thing  to  do  some  art  and  make  a  marble  photograph  of 
the  baby,  for  that  would  show  every  hod  y  that  I  had  got 
some  benefit  from  the  lectures,  and  the  photograph  of  the 
baby  would  delight  mother  and  Sue. 

I  took  another's  fruit  bas- 
ket and  filled  it  with  mud 
out  of  the  back  yard.  It 
was  nice  thick  mud,  and  it 
would  stay  in  any  shape 
that  you  squeezed  it  into,  so 
that  it  was  just  the  thing 
to  do  art  with.  1  laid  the 
ha  by  on  it--  hack  oil  the  bed, 
and  covered  its  face  all  over 
with  the  mud  about  two 
inches  thick.  A  fellow  who 
didn't  know  anything  about 
art  might  have  killed  the 
bahy,  for  it'  you  cover  a 
baby's  mouth  and  nose  with 
mud  it  can't  breathe,  which 
is  very  unhealthy,  but  I  left 
its  nose  so  it  could  breathe, 
and  intended  to  put  an  ex- 
tra piece  of  mud  over  that 
part  of  the  mould  after  it 
was  dry.  Of  course  the  baby 
howled  all  it  could,  and  it 
would  have  kicked  dread- 
fully, only  I  fastened  its 
arms  and  legs  with  a  shawl 
strap  so  that  it  couldn't  do 
itself  any  harm. 

The  mud  wasn't  half  dry 
when  mother  and  Sue  and 
father  came  in,  for  he  met 
them  at  the  front  gate. 

They  all  came  upstairs,  and  the  moment  they  saw  the  ha  1  >y 
they  said  the  most  dreadful  things  to  me  without  waiting 
for  me  to  explain.  I  did  manage  to  explain  a  little  through 
the  closet  door  while  father  was  looking  for  his  rattan 
cane,  but  it  didn't  do  the  least  good. 

I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  about  art  or  to  see  any 
more  lectures.  There  is  nothing  so  ungrateful  as  people, 
and  if  I  did  do  what  wasn't  just  what  people  wanted,  they 
might  have  remembered  that  I  meant  well,  and  only  want- 
ed to  please  them  and  elevate  their  minds. 


j\l)VKMI!KH    7.   1882 


II  A  Ul 'KU'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


13 


-' 


- 


^.-%  <^'r-^> 
:^cl,rf-- 


R»  . 


«P  K 

•  *  , 


WORDS  AND  Music  BY  EDWARD  I.  STE\T:NSON. 

.-. 1- 


1.  They  tell     me    stars    s;iy    1111-  IliiiiL'  :     I    know    it       is     not      true  ----      Last 
.  Suit    fell    each  bios  -  som's  mee-sage,    I.ike  sound  of  snin  -iner  Hhowert,  "Good 


•-     i*  •»          nt     '  i          -9-      Z-     9-      -m-  W 


\s~~-  i  OHrWKi    u/tUr  oiuuui my. 

_     _  ^  — 


(For  Ki'iiin!  \~i-rw  repeat  from  beginning.} 


I 


night    I    heard  them  talk  -  ing.    And  so      to-uis:ht  may  yon — ____    La?t  night   I    heard  them  talk  -  ing,    And  so      to-night  may  you. 
night,  dear  Stars!"  and  answered  The  stars,"  Good-night,  dear  Flowers!11  "Good-night,  dear  Stars!  "  and  answered  The  stars,"  Good-night,  dear  Flow'ra  !" 


u 


TIAP.PFJTS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

"  T  HATE  to  apologize;  I  do  not  like  to  admit 

-1   that  I  was  in  the  wrong." 

I  do  not  know  who  the  speaker  was.  I  did  not 
even  see  his  face  as  he  passed  the  window  \vliere 
I  was  sitting,  resting  in  the  shadow  of  the  cur- 
tain, and  thinking,  ilrar  children,  about  you.  I 
am  sure  that  he  was  a  boy,  however,  for  such  a 
fresh,  decided  voice,  and  such  a  quirk  step,  could 
belling  In  iiuhi i'ly  in  thr  world  but  a  boy. 

Somehow  I  li'll  very>i>rryindeed  when  I  thought 
ali.uit  what  he  had  said:  "Hate  to  apologize! 
Not  like  ti  i  eontVss  one's  self  to  have  been  in  the 
wrong : "  \\'hv.  that  is  not  noble. 

Evei-y  line  .if  us  -you,  Elsie,  at  yourprem  i  in 
broidery,  you.  Hum,  at  your  map  drawing,  you. 
lloraee.  1 1 ver  yi  m r  chemist ry,  you, Theobald,  dee 1 1 
in  Virgd.  I.  the  I',  istuiistrcss,  with  my  heaps  nl 
letters — every  one  of  us,  my  dears,  is  liable  some- 
times to  be  ill  the.  wrong.  We  say  something 
hastily,  and  hurt  somebody's  in  lings,  and  then 
we  are  sorry.  \Ve  do  something  which  is  t'ool- 
Wi,  a n. I  which  we  regret.  The  .  inly  brave  course 
—the  only  course  o[  en  to  honorable  people — is 
to  apolo^i/.i-.  to  ask  pardon,  if  necessary,  of  the 
person  whom  we  have  vexed  or  annoyed.  It  is 
alwa\s  manly  hi  a  boy  to  own  up  and  bear  the 
blame  if  he  has  made  a  mistake.  Many  of  the 
troubles  and  heart-aches  that  people  have  to  bear 

would  be  d away  with  if  everybody  who  did 

wrong  was  willing  to  admit  it. and  if  those  who 
were  wronged  would  be  forgiving. 

At'.d  now  for  the  ^ 1  things  with  which  this 

number  of  the  Post-office  Box  is  fairly  overflow- 
ing.   


SAX  FRANCISCO,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  live  in  San  Francisco.  I  often  drive  out  to 
the  beach  with  papa  and  mamma.  A  liitle  way 
from  the  shore  there  is  a  large  pile  of  rocks,  and 
upon  them  you  can  see  hundreds  of  sea-lions 
climbing  about,  and  call  plainly  hear  them  bark- 
ing or  roaring.  I  often  drive  turoujrh  the  Golden 
(iate  Park  too.  It  is  beautifully  laid  out  with 
flowers,  and  at  the  large  conservatory  the  beau 
tiful  "Victoria  Itegia"  is  in  bloom  now— a  lily 
who~e  blossoms  open  three  times,  the  first  day  a 
pure  white,  with  a  large  white  crown  in  the  cen- 
tre, tin 'ii  doses  to  open  the  next  day  a  pale  pink, 
then  closes  to  open  the  last  time  almost  purple. 
The  leaves  are  saucer-shaped,  about  one  yard 
amiss,  and  will  bear  the  weight  of  a  child  tine; 
.or  four  years  old  standing  on  them.  But  I  must. 
stop  now,  so  good-by.  1  am  nine  years  old.  and 
study  at  home.  BIRDIE. 

Thank  you,  dear,  for  your  description  of  the 
superb  Victoria  Regia. 


MOUNT  VERNON,  OHH 

I  am  a  little  ^irl  nearly  nine  years  old.  I  go  to 
school  every  day.  We  have  but  one  pet  ;  it  is  a 
kitty,  and  its  nain  •  is  Amorita  I  am  working  a 
motto.  It  is  m v  first, and  my  friends  think  it  very 
nicely  done.  Mount  Vermin  is  the  county-seat 
of  Knox  County,  Ohio.  I  have  two  sisters,  Anna 
and  Ruth,  and  cine  brother,  Budge.  On  raiuy  days 


we  have  very  pleasant  times  playing  with  dolls 
uid  books  and  sleds.  To-night  we  had  a  circus 
in  the  parlor.  Budge  and  Huth  were  the  lions, 
and  I  was  the  keeper;  but  soon  they  became 
unmanageable;  and  were  sent  to  bed.  It  is  draw- 
ing near  my  bed-time,  and  I  w  ill  ask  ym  to  please 
print  tliis, 'for  I  enjoy  reading  the  letters,  and 
want  to  see  my  own  name  in  the  Post-office  Box. 
Good-night.  '  CI.NIJA  B. 

SAVANA  LA  MAR,  JAMAICA,  WKSI  INDIES. 

This  is  my  first  letter.  We  live  in  Jamaica. 
West  Indies',  and  I  like  to  read  the  letters  from 
other  boys  and  girls. 

1  am  twelve  years  old,  and  have  five  brothel's 
and  two  sisters,  one  brother  is  in  England.  ;.t 
the  Blue-Coat  School:  the  others  learn  Ics-on- 
here  at  home.  We  have  black  people  to  do  our 
work.  HARKY  M. 


BLT-TEKMT  LAKE,  WI^M^IV. 

My  sister  Kate  and  I  send  you  some  yellow  vi- 
olets which  we  picked  this  afternoon  while  we 
were  out  walking.  Is  that  not  good  for  so  far 
north''  We  are  about  fifty-three  miles  from  Lake 
superior.  I  love  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much,  and 
1  like  the  Post-office  Box  best. 

KATE  B.  and  FANNIE  T.  M. 

Brave  little  violets,  and  bright  eyes  that  found 
them  !  Thank  you,  Kate  and  Fannie,  for  sending 
the  pretty  flower  to  me. 


NK\V   VuRK   ClTV. 

I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the  first  num- 
ber, and  enjoy  it  very  much.  I  returned  Irom 
the  sea-shore  not  long  ago.  and  brought  with  me 
many  pretty  shells.  1  also  brought  a  piece  ot  s,  a 
weed,  which  isa  very  good  weather  guide.  When 
it  is  soft  you  may  know  it  will  be  clear,  and  when 
it  is  hard"  it  will  be  stormy.  LULU  L. 

I  suppose  you  will  ask  your  sea-weed  to  tell 
you  in  the  morning  whether  or  not  to  wear  your 
water-proof  and  overshoes  to  school.  If  it  is 
doubtful,  and  papa  says  the  wind  is  in  the  east, 
the  safest  way  will  be  to  wear  t  In  in  in  New  York. 


Last  Christmas  my  papa  presented  me  with 
II.U;I'I:K'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  it  has  affordeil  me 
a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  1  intend  to  continue 
reading  it  alwa\s.  I  am  eight  years  old.  ami  since 
last  fall  ha  ve  gone  to  school.  1  am  now  in  the  Fifth 
Header,  and  work  stuns  in  fractions;  Inn  some 
how  I  still  love  to  play,  and  ride  my  velocipede, 
w  hi  lc  my  sister  Sadie,  who  is  rive  years,  and  Ldna. 
nineteen  months,  amuse  themselves  with  dolls. 
We  live  in  a  town  quite  famous  as  a  winter  re- 
sort, and  many  come  here  to  escape  the  ci.ld 
North  and  West,  and  to  enjoy  our  pine  regie  ms. 

HERBERT  J.  H. 


BSLDBN,  TFXAS. 

I  nm  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  have  been 
taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  last  No\einl»r.  I 
have  several  pets  I  have  a  dog,  a  pony,  a  pig. 
ami  three  chickens:  but  the  sweetest  pet  ot  all 
is  my  little  baby  brother :  his  name  is  (barley, 
but  we  '-.ill  him  Carly.  I  want  to  tell  about  my 
pi::,  he  is  so  smart  he  thinks  he  is  a  dog.  Kvery 
w  here  the  dogs  1^0,  the  pii;  goes  too.  lie  helped 

me  drive  the  horses  t.i  water  yesterday.  1  live 
on  a  I  arm.  I  do  not  go  to  school:  mamma  teach- 
es me  at  home.  WALTKU  J.  M. 

A  very  remarkable  pig.  It  must  be  funny  to 
see  him  trotting  off  after  the  dogs  and  their  little 

master. 


Nmv  YORK  ClTV. 

I  am  a  little  girl  thirteen  years  old.  I  ba\e  a 
little  dog,  but  he  is  very  limm  l\  We  have  three 
little  kittens,  and  they  are  pretty.  My  brother 
round  them  in  the  garden.  The  cats  and  the  dog 
do  not  tii:lit.  I  have  a  papa  and  a  mamma, and 
an  auntie,  and  two  big  brothers.  My  auntie  reads 
all  the  little  letters  to  me.  I  have  taken  HAR- 
PER'S YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  the  first  number. 

NETTIE  B.  M. 


MnviirEiiii,  NKW  YORK. 

Have  you.  dear  Postmistress,  ever  been  to  Mon- 
ticello?  I  t*ink  it  is  a  lovely  place.  And  there 
are  such  beautiful  views.  It'  I  look  to  the  north. 
1  see  quite  a  stretch  of  woods  and  hills,  and  away 
off  in  the  distance  a  ridge  of  very  high  hills.  I 
am  staying  on  a  farm  where  ihcrc  are  seven 
cows  and  four  calves.  Their  names  arc  Bessie. 
Brownie.  Bright-eyes,  and  Hunker  Mill.  They  are 
just  as  gentle  as  lambs.  In  the  house  there  is  a 
cal  called  Ma  liners,  and  she  has  two  kittens.  Miss 
Muffet  and  Pussy  Tiptoes.  Tiptoes  (or  Tip,  as  she 
is  called)  has  white-tipped  paws,  ami  a  bib  of 
white  just  under  her  chin.  Muffet  is  gray  and 
white. 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  the  County  Fair.  The 
grounds  are  two  miles  and  a  halt  from  here.  \Vc 
r. Hie  up.  and  staid  all  day.  First  we  went,  into 
the  poultry  iiou st.\  which  was  t'ull.  What  do  you 
suppose  we  saw?  Two  little  tiny  hens,  each  witli 


five  little  chickens  no  bigger  than  a  medium-sized 
egg.  After  that  we  entered  the  domestic  build- 
ing. Dear!  how  full  it  was  !  Cake,  jelly,  pics, 
preserves,  and  fruit  occupied  an  entire  side  of  it. 
The  other  side  was  tilled  with  art.  fancy-work, 
and  such  things.  The  vegetable  tent  was  next, 
and  some  one  said  the  display  of  vegetables  was 
larger  than  that  at  the  state  Fair.  I  can't  begin 
to  tell  how  many  cattle,  pigs,  and  sheep  there 
were.  We  ate  our  lunch  in  the  wagon,  and  it. 
tasted  very  good.  I  was  very  tired  when  we  got 
home,  but  we  had  a  pleasant  day  and  lovely 
weather. 

A  few  weeks  ago  we  drove  to  Katrina  Falls. 
We  went  down  into  the  basin,  and  saw  the  water 
come  rushing  down  from  fifty  feet  above,  with 
high  rocks  and  woods  all  around,  and  it  made  as 
wild  a  scene  as  I  ever  saw.  I  picked  a  fern  and 
leaf  to  bring  home  and  press.  EFFIE  E.  II. 


THE  CHILDREN  AND  THE  SHEEP. 
Diddie,  Dumps,  and  Tot  were  three  little  girls 
who  lived  on  a  plantation  in  Mississippi  many 
years  ago.  Their  real  names  were  Madeleine, 
Elinor,  and  Eugenia,  hut,  nobody  ever  called  them 
by  anything  except  their  funny  pet  names.  The 
three  little  girls  had  three  little  colored  maids, 
who  waited  on  them,  shared  their  plays,  and 
went  with  them  everywhere.  The  pet  who  gave 
them  so  much  trouble  on  the  afternoon  of  this 
story  was  a  sheep,  who  had  belonged  to  Diddie 
since  he  was  a  lamb.  Then  he  had  been  very 
gentle,  but  he  had  grown  cross  and  stubborn  with 
age.  though  Diddie  kept  on  loving  him  dearly. 

You  may  all  look  at  his  picture  on  the  cover  of 
this  number  of  Yorxu  PEOPLE.  They  were  play- 
ing that  he  was  Lord  Hnrgo\ne.  and  that  a  feast 
was  ueingmade  in  his  honor,  lint,  alas  !  his  lord- 
ship objected  to  being  carried  to  the  entertain- 
ment. 

"  Yon.  Dumps,  an' Tot.  an'  Dilsey.  an' all  of  yer. 
I've  got  er  letter  from  Lord  Burgoyne.  an'  he'll 
be  here  to-morrow,  an'  I  want  you  all  to  go  right 
into  the  kitchen  an' make  pies  an' cakes."  And 
so  the  whole  party  adjourned  to  a  little  ditch 
where  mud  and  water  were  plentiful  (and  which 
on  that  account  had  been  selected  as  the  kitch- 
en i.  and  began  at  once  to  prepare  an  elegant 
dinner. 

Dear  me  !  how  busy  the  little  housekeepers 
were!  and  such  beautiful  pies  they  made,  and 
lovely  cakes  all  iced  with  w  idle  sand,  and  bits  of 
grabs'  laid  around  the  edges  tor  trimming:  and 
all  the  time  laughing  and  chatting  as  gayly  as 
could  be. 

"Ain't  we  bavin' fun?"  said  Dumps,  who,  re- 
gardless of  her  nice  clothes,  was  down  on  her 
knees  in  the  ditch,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  and 
her  fat  little  arms  muddy  to  the  elbows;  "an' 
ain't  you  glad  we  slipped  off.  Diddie '•  1  tol'  yer 
there  wa'u't  nothin"  goin'  to  bun  us." 

"And  ain't  you  glad  we  let  Billy  come?"  said 
Diddie.  "  We  wouldn't  er  had  nobody  to  be  Lord 
Bnrgox  in-  " 

"  Yes."  replied  Dumps;  "an' he  ain't  behaved 
bad  at  all;  he  ain't  butted  nobody,  and  he  ain't 
runneil  at  tcr  nobodv  to-day." 

"'(ink  at  de  take."  inteirupted  Tot.  holding  up 
a  mud-ball  that  she  hail  moulded  with  her  own 
little  hands, and  which  she  regarded  with  great 
pride. 

And  now,  the  plank  being  as  full  as  it.  would 
hold,  they  all  returned  to  the  hotel  to  arrange 
the  table.  Illlt  alter  till'  table  Was  set  ll \elte- 

nient  was  all  over,  for  there  was  nobody  to  be 
the  guest. 

"Et Ole  Billy  wa'n't  so  mean,"  said  Chris,  "we 
could  totch  'im  hyear  in  de  omnibus.  1  wnsh 
we'd  a  let  Chubbum  an'  Siippum  come  ;  dey'd  er 
been  Lord  Button." 

"  I  b'lieve  Billy  would  let  us  haul  Mm."  said 
Diddie,  who  was  always  ready  to  take  up  for  her 
pet ;  "  he's  rae!  gentle  now.  an'  he's  quit  buttin' ; 
the  only  thing  is.  he's  so  big  we  couldn't  get 'im 
in  the  wheelbarrer." 

"Me  'n'  Chris  kin  put  'im  in."  said  Dilsey.  "We 
kin  lit'  'im,  et  dat's  all ;"  and  accordingly  the  om- 
nibus was  dispatched  for  Lord  Burgoyne,  who 
was  quietly  nibbling  grass  on  the  ditch  bank  at 
some  little  distance  Irom  the  hotel. 

He  raised  his  head  as  the  children  approached, 
and  regarded  them  attentively.  "Hilly!  Billy! 
po'  Ole  Billy  !"  soothingly  murmured  Diddie.  who 
had  accompanied  Dilsey  and  Chris  with  the  om- 
nibus, as  she  had  more  influence  over  Old  Billy 
than  anybody  else.  He  came  now  at  once  to  her 
side,  and  rubbed  his  head  gently  against  her; 
and  while  she  caressed  him.  Dilsey  on  one  side 
and  Chris  on  the  other  lilted  him  up  to  put  him 
on  the  wheelbarrow. 

And  now  the  scene  changed.  Lord  Burgoyne. 
all  unmindful  of  love  or  gratitude,  and  with  an 
eye  single  to  avenging  this  insult  to  his  dignity, 
struggled  from  the  arms  of  his  captors,  and.  plant- 
ing his  head  full  in  Diddie's  chest,  turned  her  a 
somersault  in  the  mud.  Then,  lowering  his  head 
and  rushing  at  Chris,  he  butted  her  with  such 
force  that  over  she  went  bead-foremost  into  the 
ditch  :  and  now.  spying  Diisey.  who  was  running 
with  all  her  miL'lit  to  i;ain  the  lumber  pile,  he 
took  after  her.  and  catching  up  with  her  just  as 
she  reached  the  gin-honse.  placed  his  head  in  the 
middle  ol  her  back,  and  sent  her  sprawling  on 
her  face.  Diddie  and  Chris  had  by  this  time  re- 
gained their  feet,  both  of  them  very  muddy,  and 
Chris  with  her  face  all  scratched  from  the  roots 


NOVEMBER  7,  iss2. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


15 


nil'!    briers  in  the  ditch      Seeing  Old   IliK--. 

pied   with   Dilsey.  they  started  mi  a   run  for  the 

lumber:  but  th.  wii>  .'M  sh.-.-p  was.m  the  look 
.mi.  an. I  taking  after  them  lull  tilt.  In-  so.ui  land- 
ed them  tiat  "ii  Ihe  ground  And  nmv  Dilsey 
bad  serainhled  up.  and  was  wining  tin-  din  1n>m 
In  r  .  yes,  l-n  |>.i  ratory  to  making  a  fresh  start. 

Hilly,  bowever. seemed  t»  ha\  <•  ma.  I.-  up  In-  mind 

th.il  nobody  had  a  right  to  stand  tip  excepl  him 

si-lf,  ami  before  the  p •  little  ilarky  could  get 

out  of  his  way,  once  more  he  had  butted  her 
down 

Dlddie  and  Chris  were  more  fortunate  thisjime; 

they  wen-  nearer  tin-  lumber  tlian  Dilsey.  and. 
not  losing  a  minute,  they  set  mil  lor  i  In.- 'pile  as 

soon  as  old  IJillv's  back  was  turned,  and  aiad«' 
such  good  time  that  they  both  reached  il.  and 
< hris  had  eliinb.-d  to  ttir  top  b.-loi  v  he  saw  I  hem  ; 
Did  lie,  however,  was  only  halt  way  up.  so  he 
in  ide  a  run  at  her.  and  butted  her  tee  t  tr,  .in  mi 
<l.-r  h.-r.  and  1 1 1 few  her  baek  to  the  ground.  This 
time  he  hurt  her  very  much,  for  her  hea.l  struck 
again-l  tin-  lumber,  and  it  cut  a  trash  in  her  fore- 

h.-ad  and  made  the  hi I  come.     This  alarmed 

Dumps  an  1   To!,  and    they   both    began    to  Cl 
though  they,  with   l!iar.  were  safelx   ensconced 
on  i  -  >;.  ot  i  ie-  lumhi-r.  our  of  all  danger.    l>iddie, 

loo.  v\  as  crying  bitterly  :  and  as  soon  as  Hilly  rail 

lia.-k  lobutt  ai  Dilsey,  Chris I  Riar  caught  hold 

of  her  hands  an  I  .ln-\\  her  up  on  the  pile 

I'u.  ir  little  llilsey  was  now  in  a  very  sad  piv- 
dicameiil.  Hilly,  seeing  that  the  oth.  r  .-hildr.  n 

Were    out     of    hi-    T'.  a  .  -1 1 .  .  ie  vot  ed    his    entire    time 

and  attention  to  her.and  her  only  sab-ty  was  in 
h  ing  II  at  on  I  he  ground.  II"  she  so  much  as  lift,  d 
her  head  to  i.e oil  re,  he  would  plant  a  full 

blow  Upon  it. 

The  children  wen-  at  their  w-its'end.  I*  was 
long  past  their  dinu  r  tiiu.-.  and  lli.-\  \\ .  r.  g.-t 
tin::  hungry:  tlieir  clothes  WIT.-  all  inu>ldy.aud 

Diddle's  dre«s  almost   lorn  off  of  her;  I  he  hi I 

was  t  ri'-kling  down  from  the  ga-h  in  h.  r  fore 
henil.  an  I  i  'I iris  w-as  all  si-r  ileli.-d  and  ilirl  >  .  a  nd 
her  eyes  smarted  from  the  sand  in  them  s(,  it 
Was  a  disconsolate  little  group  that  -ai  huddled 
together  on  lop  of  Mi.-  lumber,  whil.-  old  Milly 
st-.od  guard  o\'er  Dil-ey.  but  with  one 
the  pile,  ready  to  make  a  dash  at  an\body  who 

Should    be  I  oo  [i-  1 1  .-Hough  lo  \  ell  I  lire  QOW  II 

••  I  io|'  vrnot  to  let  'im  eoni.-."  sobbed  i ' 
"an'  no\y  I  spec  wi-'ll  halt,  r  -lav  lu-r.-  all  night, 
an'  not  have  m  >  supper  nor  n.  it 

"  I  didn't  Icl  'im  come."  replied  Iliddie.  "  lie 
.-., in  hiiii-'-li.  an'  it  you  hadn't  made  us  run 
awav  tiiin  Mammy,  we  wouldn't  cr  liappened  lo 

all   1  hi-   t  ri  illble." 

•- 1  never  m.,d>-  yer,"  retorted  Dumps 

.  ome  ,i'-s  .-/.  neii-h  .-/.  anybody  ;  an'  el  i!  hadn't  er 
been  Mir  you.  '  >lc  Hilly  woul  I  er  siaid  at  li.m.e. 
\  on  're  all  time  pel  tin'  'im  an'  feed  in'  'im  hate 
ful  old  thing !— tell  he  thinks  he's  got  ter  go  ,  \  '> 

Wliere  we  go         You  onirht    lo   be  '-Ham.  d   .r  your 

se'f.  Kf  I  was  \  on.  I'd  think  ni\  -.''t  too  good  ter 
be  al  wa  \  s  er  '-0-11:11  m  \\  it  h  sh.-e|is  " 

"  "I  i.u're  mighty  [Mild  -.1  'ini  sometimes."  said 
Diddie.  "  an'  you  was  mighly  L'lad  in-  \vas  here 

.jes  How.  to  be   l.of.l    I'll!  rgo>  lie  :    II.  •'-  j.  -s  .  loin'  this 

fur  fun  " 

It  was  now  almost  dark,  and  I  >ld  I'.illv  slum  ,  ,| 
no8i£ii8orweariness;his  vigilance  was  unnbated, 

and  the  cliildrcii  wi-re  very  mi-era  I 'I.-.  \\  Inn  th.  \ 

hear  I  th.-  welcome  s id  of  Maiiim  -. 

ing  "  chil'en  !     o  oo  o.  chil'dl  !" 

"  Ma  a-a-m  '."  answ  er.-d  all  ol  t  he  lii  1 1,-  b.lks  at 
once. 

"  \Vhiir  is  yerV  called  Mammy. 

"<)u  top  the  lumber  pile."  answered  the  ehil 
drcll ;  and  soon  Mam  my  appeared  -,  uning  t  n  rough 
(In-  \\ I-. 

Instant  ]>  ( )ld  Hilly  da-hed  at  her.  relea-ing  p..,  a- 
Dilsey. 

"  Now  ycr  gwuf  fum  yer.  gwuf  I'uni  yer  '"  -aid 
Mammy,  furiously  waving  a  eolton  stalk  at  Old 
Hilly.  "C.wuf  fum  \.-r.  1  tell  y.ii  :  I  ain't  hod- 
em  you.  I  jcs  cum  fur  tic  ciiir<'ii.  an'  \.  i  In  r 

Hot    tool  'loll'.'  er  me.  yer  low  -lile  sheep  "   ' 

Hut  i>ld  Hilly,  nol  caring  u  lit;  for  \l.-imni\  's  d  ig 
nlty  or  importance,  planted  his  head  ill  her  breast, 

and  o\  er  I  he  old  lad  \  wnit  '..e-kuard.  Al  this 
the  children,  who  loved  .Mam  in  y  dearly,  set  up  a 
yell,  and  Mammy,  si  ill  waving  the  col  I  on  stalk, 
attempt. -d  to  rKe.  but  Hilly  was  ready  lor  her, 
mid.  with  a  well  aimed  blow,  sent  her  baek  to 
the  earth. 

"  Now  ycr  stop  dat."  said  Mammy,  "Yer  '>< 't 
leri:wiif  fum  ver !"  Hut  Billy,  being  master  of 
tlie  situation,  stood  his  irrouud,  and  1  dare  say 
Mammy  would  have  been  him:  there  yet.  but 
fortunately  I'nele  Sambo  and  Hill,  t  he  \\  a  goners, 
cam.-  alon^  the  hi;:  road,  ami  liearin^  the  ehil 
d  reu's  cries,  t  hey  came  upon  t  he  scene  of  act  ion, 
and  taking  their  \vhips  to  <  »ld  Hilly,  soon  drove 
him  away. — |  From  //e/'/e  .  ltun<i^.  >it<>l  /'iV,  pub- 
lished by  Harper  i  Hmthers. 


We  insert  this  little  ]iar.ii:rapli  I'or  the  benefit 
of  uncles  and  aunties  and  older  brothers  ami  sis- 
ters who  are  looking  about  now  to  find  beautiful 
hooks  for  holiday  siifts  to  the  little  ones.  The 
group  of  volumes  of  which  we  give  the  titles  are 
great  favorites  with  some  fortunate  little  peuple 
of  our  acquaintance  : 

Harvl'l  dud  t/u  Jfo/tkt'';  t»\  A  Jjtil  l!'»f,<  Travels 
in  Dream-land.  A  Fairy  Tale  for  Small  Folk.  By 
Alfred  ( '.  Fryer.  (.J.  E.  Cornish,  Manchester,  Eu;;- 


land.  Publisher.)—  Tlif  \\7nfi  lint,  and  Xmnr  '"/,,,- 
Hy  I.ady  Hark.  r.  Illustrated  by  \V.  .1. 
Ill-tin. -ssy.  Miiin  ,i/,./  '/////,-  .,/-.  .1  iiijiiin.i  among 
tt,r  .\fi,,i,,r,i;,..<.  Hy  Miss  , l.  u.  Ward.  Illustrated 
by  Mr.-.  Alma  Tad.-ma.-  limn*.  Im/il  xtnri,  ifivni  I/it 
'  .  Translated  from 

the  <"  n.ian  l.\  Lucy  Crane,  and  Done  into  I'ie- 
tures  by  Walter  (.'nine.  l.Maeniillan  iV  OI..LOII- 
tlon.  Publishers.  I—  Alirmn I.  Illustrated  by  Thom- 
as (  rain-  and  Kllen  HouiAton.  (Marcus  Ward  i: 
Co.,  New  York.) 


YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  COT. 

Contributions  n  e.-i\e<(  for  Young  I'eoplc-'s  c.  .1, 
in  Holy  Innocent's  Ward.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal tor  i  liildren.  41 1;  \\  esl  Thirt v-lourth  Street  : 

i-hieago.  |ll...-*v. :  May  I-'.  lirim-kerhoff. X  Y  .SI: 
<.raee  Hamilton.  Fort  Hamilton.  N.  Y..S1:  I'r.,- 
'  '  ' -ii-  "t  a  fair  held  by  Allyu  and  her  little  neigh- 
bor. New  London.  $5;  Annie  Waldron,  N\'a.-k 
N.  Y..  $1  :  K.ffie  Ithind.  .-Jie,  :  lo-aee  M.  I!..  Polish 
k.-e],-i'-.  -.'aiv  ;  Proceeds  of  a  fair  held  at  Irving- 
ion -on  1 1  n.  I  s.  ni.  (lei  1 1  her  ::.  by  Florence.  FJisc.  and 
Kthcl  Hurst.  Isabelle  Bcnjaniin.  and  Helen  Mat- 
thiewson, S288;  total,  s-^ir  -,>:>  Amount  i>reyi.,us- 
ly  acknowledged,  $J2M  ].">:  grand  total,  Octol  ei 
i:..  SI.VM  |.i. 


NEW  V,II:K   CITY. 

MY    iiKAii   1oi\,;    Pron.E.— Your  friend    Miss 
Fanshaw-e  has  asked    me  to   write  you  a   I.  tier. 
and  tell  yon  something  more  about'  your  i -ot  in 
St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital  f..r  i  'hildivn      'ion  r. 
in.  Mib.  r  \,.ii  thought   last   \.-ar  that   you  would 

lik.-  i A///-  .thai  means  pay  for,  and  have  for 

your  very  ownv  one  of  the    little   whit.-  beds  in 

Hi.    Holy  Ii cent's  Ward  of  the  hospital.     You 

scut  Miss  F.inshawe  <\.r  so  much  money,  and 
she  wrote  ever  -o  mati\  I.  tt.  is  i,,  Johnnie  and 
Mary,  and  \\'illic  and  Kilty,  and  all  the  r. -M  of 
lldren  who  inclosed  their  contributions  for 
\  oimg  People's  '  "1  t-,  her.  as  treasurer  ol  the 

llol\  Innocent's  Guild,     s.u I  \onsi-ni  hcrteu 

e.nls.  and  some  l  went  y  live  cents,  and  some  had 
.  \.  n  a-  mill  h  as  -.  \ .  ra  1  dollars  that  they  had 
c  irned  or  saved,  for  of  COIUM-  it  mn-l  b.  your 
\.  l>  <o\n  lnoli.->  that  [ia\s  t..r  Ihe  support  ol 

your  very  own  little  sick  poor  child  in  ih-    Col 

called  by  your  nani. 

This  was  all  very  nice  and  good  of  \..u.  but. 
you  r.-ni.  ml-  r,  I  told  yon  that  it  required  S.MIH.I 

to  endow  \otir  I'ol.  and  all  III.-  h  n  .-.  lit  pieces, 
and  I  w  .-lit  y  li\ .-  cent  pie.-.  -.  and  all  the  dollar 
bill-.  -.-  Mi-  I  .in  haw.  amount- 

ed io  bin  sr.'.vs.    That,  you  see  (those  ol  you  who 

know    an\  Ihing  al t    aritl !tie),   is    i.'-ss    than 

hall'  the  sum  ii>-ees^ar\-  !     ( 'an  \ .  -11  not  -.-ml  some 

more  t  Ilia  p<  o       It'  \ .>u  would  *a\ .-  -ome  .  ,t  \ our 

iuon.-> ,  or  t..\  money,  or  do  some  work  for 

\\hi.-h    \oiir    parents    would    pa  >    you,  I    am    \,  r\ 
-u  would  fe.-l  well  repaid  l.-r  \oiir  self-de- 
nial w  h.  n  you  "'  lit  to  tin-  1 1"- 1  -it  ,i  I  and  -aw  \  our 
child— some  sick  hoy.  or  sick  girl,  who  had   no 

me.-  Comfortabll  h-un-  -u.  Ii  a-  \oll  ha\-e.  Io  be 
sick  in  —  1\  ing  1  her.-,  and  -a\  ing  "  Thank  yon"  to 
.l.iiiinit  ami  Mars  and  all  in.-  r.  -I  ol  \.'ii. 

re  will  be  a  brifsht  bra--  plate  o\  er  flu-  head 
of  l  In-  <  '..I ,  and  ou  il  will  be  eugnn  ed  "  Young 
-  ( '.  .t.  '  and  tic-  it.it .-  ot  it  -  endow  nii-nt . 
This  w-ill  keep  before  . -\  er\  bod y's  mind  who  -.-.  s 
il  l  he  fact  I  hat  t  his  pa  rt  i.-n  la  r  <  ot  belongs  to  \ .  .11. 
and  that  the  sick  child  m  it  i-  y.uir  child. 

Now  I  mii-t  tell  you  what  some  little  girls  did 
for  the  Cot  last  summer.  1  will  tell  you  all  their 

name-,  and   p.-rlups  son t    \on   w  ho  are  now 

r.-a.liiig  this  letl.  r.  or  h-li-iting  while  some  one 
reads  it  to  you.  may  ha  \  e  I  he  same  name  There 
were  M\  e  lit  l  ie  girl-  I-  Ion -i  iee  Hurst  a  nd  her  -is 
t.-i-s  Kih.-l  and  Elise.  and  their  two  little  friends 
I -.  i  In  11.-  Hen  jam  in  and  Helen  Matt  hie  w  son.  These 
lillle  girls  had  read  about,  and  had  heard  older 
people  talking  about.  Young  People's  Cot,  until 
they  became  so  much  interested  in  the  idea  that 
they  delermined  to  try  and  be  the  of  tl wners 

of  the  wonderful  Cot.  One  of  them — I  don't  know 
which  one  it  was  suggested  that  they  might 
make  some  pretty  fancy  article-,  and  s.  I]  ihem 
to  their  grown-up  friends.  Th.-y  all  wont  to 
work,  and  how  much  money  do  you  ihiuk  they 
earned  ?  Listen,  please,  for  you  will  be  \  cry  much 
surprised — $^s.s.  Were  they  not  well  r.-pai.l  ba- 
the lime  they  used  and  the  trouble  they  had  in 
w. irking  for  tlieir  t  'ot :' 

Now.  somebody  \vho  can  do  sums  in  ad. Ill  ion 
please  add  S'.'ss  (O  -  r.'.X,  and  see  how  much  it 

makes.  You  say  Sl.Vlii.  Quite  correct  And  that. 
you  see.  is  a  little  more  than  half  the  S:»KKI  you 
need.  Don't  you  think  when  one  has  got  half  of 
any  difficult  lesson  or  diftieul!  piece  of  work  done 

thai  tl ther  half  seems  quite  easy  in  corn  pa  ri- 

s.ui?  I  am  sure  you  have  all  noticed  this,  and  I 
am  sure,  too,  that  you  will  find  the  present  ease 
m  .  exception  to  the  rule. 

Courage,  then  every  little  boy  and  little  girl 
who  reads  this  letter,  and  go  to  work  manfully 
and  irn/iHtufi/ihf  until  the  Cot  is  paid  for  and  real- 
ly belongs  to  you.  Send  all  the  money  you  can 
save  or  can  earn  to  Miss  Falishawe.  4.^  New  Street, 
and  yon  will  see  k  acknowledged  every  month 
in  HMICKK'S  Y'orsu  PEOPLK.  your  own  paper, 
she  will  also  write  to  any  child  who  writes  to 
her,  aud  asks  for  au  answer  to  his  or  her  letter. 


I  wish  Iliad  time  now.  and  that  the  editors  had 
-pa..-  in  tins  week's  pa  per  to  tell  you  of  the  pl.a- 
-ain  Sea-side  Ib-mc-  at  Hoekaway, where  the  chil- 
dren of  SI.  Mary's  Hospital  were  sent  last  sum- 
mer.  ami  where  \.uir  child  will  go  next  summer 
if  you  have  your  ( 'ot  by  that  time.  Tin-  house 
was  given  to  the  Sisleis  ol  St.  Mary  by  a  kind 
lady  who  loves  little  children,  and  can  not  b,  ar 
to  think  of  them  sick  in  hot.  nois\ .  crowded  tene- 
ment-houses when  the  thermometer  stand-  at  '.In  ' 
in  the  shadiest  city  streets,  and  all  Ihe  conntr\. 
with  its  gra-s  and  trees  and  How  ers.  seems  long- 
ing for  the  little  children  to  come  and  i  ujoy  it. 

1  ..u  -hould  ha\e  seen  I  he  little  pale-faced  chil- 
dren on  the  beach  or  bathing  in  the  salt-water. 
A  very  few  days  made  a  difference  in  then- looks. 
And  such  appetites  as  the  -all  air  gave  them! 
Why.  a  barrel  of  Hour  lasted  no  time,  they  were 
all  so  hungry. 

Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  who  I  am  and 
what  my  name  is.  Well,  when  I  was  one  of  \oii 
I  was  always  taught  that  il  was  proper  to  sign 
one's  name  to  one's  letters,  so  I  sign  myself  to 
this  letter,  my  dear  young  people  land  it  i's  really 
my  true  name),  your  very  affectionate  Irielld, 
ONE  Wno  LOVES  You. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YoUN(i  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

K  N  1  Ii  II  A- 

My  first  is  in  gain,  hut  not  in  lo-s. 

My  second  is  in  shell,  but  net  in  rock. 
My  Ihird  is  in  throw,  bul  not  in  toss. 

M  y  fourth  is  in  tap.  but  not  in  knock. 
My  fifth  is  in  man.  but  not  in  hoy. 

My  sixth  is  in  right,  hut  IH.I  in  wrong. 
My  scM-nth  i-  ill  drum,  but  n.  t  in  toy. 

My  eighth  is  in  main',  hut  not  in  throng. 

My  whole  is  a  flower  well  worth  a  s.  ng. 
NINA  T. 


ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  number.  ','.  A  plaything.  :i  A  mineral  de 
posit.  I.  Part  of  a  vessel,  a.  1'arl  of  a  lish  r,  \ 
malt  liquor.  7.  The  lirniam.  nt.  Centrals  spell 
the  name  of  an  important  sea  jiort  of  t  he  I  nit.  d 
Slat.-s.  NINA  T. 


imri:-i;i.Ass  IT/XLE. 

1.  Buttresses  for  strengthening  walls.  -.'  \ 
county  or  city  officer.  .'!  T nsnre.  4.  A  pro- 
noun. r>.  A  vowel,  i;.  A  kiln  for  dr\  ing  hops.  7. 
Fitly,  s  (vinittan.e.  IP.  Imperial.'  Centrals— A 
city  of  New  Yolk.  LIIDESTAK. 

No     I 
man  \  IUN..-. 

1.  lama  decoration  «f  nature  ;  h<  head  me.  and 
I  am  not  the  highest 

•„'  I  am  t  he  seed  of  a  much-prized  tree  ;  beh.-ad 
in.-,  and  I  am  a  grain. 

::  I  am  a  knavi-h  fellow  ;  behead  me. and  I  am 
a  . -ol  I, -i -t  i.  a  i  of  tents 

I.  1  am  a  pit  :  In-head  me.  and  I  am  delirious. 

a  I  am  a  fireplace;  behead  me.  and  I  am  a 
planet.  TWIN  COMET. 

No.  a. 

AN    E.\sy     M-MlatK   Al.    BNIG1I   ', 

The  whole...!'  in  let  I  ers.  is  a  (lower. 

The  1,  ','.  :i.  I.  ."i  belongs  lo  the  holly. 

The  I.'.'.  ::.  I  is  essential  lo  life. 

'I  he  Ii.  7.  S.  5  is  a  luxury  w  hen  I  ired. 

The  .">.  V.  s  is  a  beverage. 

The  7, 8, 9, 10  is  rest.  J.  M.  ILES. 


ANSWERS  TO  PL'ZZLES  IN  No.  155. 


No.  1. 


L  am  P 

I  dl  K 

N  .-a  T 

N  ea  l; 

K  as  E 

T  id  L 

W  o  O  D 

o  i;  R  E 
o  RES 
DESK 


N        u  T 

E  art  II 

E  ide  U 

D  om  E 

L  aur  A 

K  meral  L) 

M    I  c  E 

I     D  O  L 

CO  \  L 

E    L  I.  A 


No.:;. 

No    1.     P 

I-'  o  E 

POUND 

E   N   L) 
D 


Air. 


G  P 

H    A  s  II    A  T 

G  A     I  L   Y        P   A    PER 

S    I,  Y  TEA 

Y  It 


Correct  answers  to  puz/.les  ha  ve  been  received 
from  Rose  Wright.  "Lodestar."  Christine  and 
(iretchen.  Milly  Tice.  Andrew  Campbell,  .Jessie 
C.  "A.  ti.  C.  I).."  Emma  Laurie.  Harry  Mow- 
bray.  . I.  I).  Percy  I.  MeDermott.  "Twelve  and  a 
Half  cents."  Enima  M.-Evoy.  William  A.  Lewis, 
Frank  D.  Hrewsler.  Florence  Small.  Frances  Dix- 
oii.  Malcolm  Ives.  Irving  L..  M.  c  Stew  -art .  Susie 
Hansell,  "Linnet."  Fiuilie  I)..  James  Williams, 
Thomas  Holmes,  and  Ruby  C.  Scofleld. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  anil  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


16 


HAEPEirS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


YOU  "ME  IV. 


I  SB4H4445H 


siiiiicieutly  a|iarl  I"  pre\cnt  tin-  remarks  made  ill  one  circle 
from  being  overheard  by  those  in  flic  other. 

The  two  representatives  are  now  summoned,  ami  requested 
In  take  their  places,  one  in  each  group,  when  a  race  lie-ins  as  to 
\vliieh  group  shall  lirst  linil  out  what  object  of  thought  has  lieen 
fixed  upon.  This  is  done  by  asking  questions  as  to  1he  shape, 
six.,-,  qualities,  ami  attributes  of  the  object.  The  rule  is  that 
the  number  of  questions  asked  should  be  limited  to  twenty, 
though  in  many  rases  it  is  impossible  to  adhere  to  this  restric- 
tion ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  object  is  frequent  Iv  guessed 
lie  fore  the  whole  twenty  questions  ha\e  been  asked. 

Xo  restrict  inn  is  placed  upon  the  objects  to  lie  thought  of — a 
drop  of  water,  a  ray  of  light,  a  crab's  claw,  a  nail  in  the  boot  of 
some  great  man.  or  anything  else  may  be  chosen.  The  object  of 
the  game  is.  of  course,  to  make  the  guessing  as  difficult  as  pos- 
sible, so  t  hat  the  struggle  as  to  who  shall  be  the1  winners  may  be 
a  hard  one. 


WHU'S    YOUR    BARBER? 

THE  OBJECT  (iA.MK 

THIS  game  may  be  played  by  any  number  of  people.     The 
party  iirst  divides  itself  into   two  equal  parts.     One   per- 
son  from  each  side  is  chosen  to  go  out  of  the  room.  and.  after 
consulting  together,  they    li\  upon  any  object   they  like  for  the 
rest  to  guess. 

The  company  then   seat    themselves   ill   two  distinct  circles, 


DARK  IK'S  SKA  Kt'll. 

i  liLACK  retriever  named  Harkie.  the  properly  of  a  friend. 
/"\  lately  went  with  his  master  to  a  country  railway  station. 
His  master  went  to  a  neigh  boring  station  down  the  line,  leaving 
Harkie  to  await  his  return,  which  he  dutifully  did,  guarding 
the  pony  trap  with  faithfulness  and  sagacity. 

On  their  arrival  at  home  again  alter  a  two-mile  drive,  the 
master  missed  one  of  bis  gloves.  lie  showed  it  to  Parkie.  say 
ing  only.  "Hie.  lost!"  Parkic  started  off  and  was  gone  for 
three  hours,  when  he  returned  with  the  missing  glove,  breath- 
less but  happy.  The  next,  day  the  porter  at  the  station  told  the 
owner: 

"  \Ye  had  a  pretty  job  w  it  h  \  our  dog  yesterday,  sir.  Hi1  came 
here,  went  down  the  line  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him. 
went  to  I  he  station  you  got  out  at.  came  back  here,  rummaged 
the  place  all  over,  and  nearly  upset  the  book-stall,  under  which 
your  glove  was.  and  carried  it  or)  in  his  month." 


\   * 


KING    CAUL1FLOWKI!.— r.v  I'AI.MKI;  Cox. 


<>!,]>  ('Ari.iFi.oWKi;   was  a  king  who  ruled  o'er  land  and  sea 
He  took  a  penny  from  the  till  of  his  great   treasury. 
And  with  the  money   in   his  hand  he  ran  about   the  town 
To  make  a   purchase  ul'  a   pint   of  pea-nuts  roasted  brown. 
And  when  he  brought  them  to  his  room  it  was  the  king's  i 
To  eat   the   |ica-nuts  in  the  bed  before  to  sleep  he  went. 

To  this  the  queen  objection   made,  and   very  well  she  might. 
For  he  was  well  along  in  years,  and  late  if   was  at   night. 
Then  said  the  crabbed  Cauliflower:  "Am  I  not  a  king! 
And  may  1    not   do  what  1    please,  or  swallow  anythiim-y 


Oh  !  have  a  care,  my  queenly  dame;  my  word  is  law.  you  know. 
And  if  1   do  but   say  the  word,  your  saucy  head   may  go." 

Then   quick   the  fearless  queen   replied:   "Go.  frighten   slave  or 

fool, 

But  I   would  have  you  understand  that  here  'tis  I  who  rule: 
So  take  your  pea-mils  somewhere  else,  and  may  they  cost   you 

dear. 

For  were  you   fifty  times  a  king  you'll  not   be  munching  here'" 
Then  out    upon   the  steps  of  stone   in  silence  sat,   his  grace. 
And  ale  the  pint  of  roasted  nuts  before  lie  left   the  place. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


J.Hlll... 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  13!l. 


PUBLISHED  BY    IIAUI'KU  ,V    I',K<  >TI!  Kits.  N  i  \v  YORK. 


PRICK    Font    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  November  14,  1882. 


-    lUuh'ki:  &   BuoTHERa. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


18 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


WAITING. 

BY  MARGARET  JOHNSON. 

I  SAID.  "When  will  the  summer  come? 

Mamma,  is  it  not  late?" 
Slie  smiled,  and  answered.  "  By  and-by; 

Be  patient,  child,  and  wail." 

I  asked  papa  if  he  would  buy 

A  new  wax  doll  for  me. 
He  pinrhed  my  cheek,  and  said,  "Not  now; 

Be  patient,  and  I'll  see." 

"Nurse,  tell  me  when  my  dear  rose-bush 

A  blossom  red  will  bear." 
"Oh,  hy-and-by.  my  dear.     Don't  fret. 

Come,  let  me  bnish  your  hair." 

"When  shall  I  grow  so  tall,  papa. 

That  I  can  reach  your  head?" 
"Quite  soon  enough,  my  little  one; 

Wait  patiently,"  he  said. 

"Dear  me!"  I  thought;  "they  all  say 

I'll  put  my  dolls  away. 
And  go  and  sit  upon  the  stairs 

As  long  as  I  can  stay." 

Now  I  have  waited  patiently 
For  hours  and  hours  and  hours, 

Ana  yet  the  dear  doll  has  not  come, 
The  summer,  nor  the  flowers. 

I  have  not  grown  a  single  bit, 

And  now  I  know  it's  late. 
I'm  going  up  to  tell  mamma 

It  does  no  good  to  wait. 


Wait.: 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  SUEZ  CANAL. 

BY  DAVID  KER. 

"  OO  it  seems  a  fellow  called  Arabi  Bey,  or  some  such 
O  name,  is  making  a  row  in  Cairo;  but  of  course  it 
won't  come  to  anything — these  things  never  do." 

So  spoke,  after  exchanging  a  few  words  with  a  pilot 
•who  had  just  come  down  the  Suez  Canal  from  Port  Said, 
the  Captain  of  our  homeward-bound  steamer  from  India, 
little  dreaming  how  world-famous  the  "row"  of  which  he 
spoke  so  lightly  was  to  become  not  many  weeks  later. 

"  If  these  Arab  fellows  should  ever  want  to  destroy  the 
canal,"  says  a  young  English  Lieutenant  of  Engineers 
going  home  from  India  on  leave,  "they  wouldn't  have 
much  trouble  with  it.  You  see  there's  a  regular  hollow 
on  each  side  here  and  there,  and  they  need  only  dig 
through  or  blow  up  the  embankment  to  run  the  channel 
bone-dry  in  no  time." 

His  words  are  confirmed  a  few  minutes  later  when  a 
group  of  native  goat-herds,  as  black  and  shaggy  and  wild- 
looking  as  the  goats  which  they  tend,  wade  out  to  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  steamer,  clamorously  offering  to  dive  for 
piastres  (five-cent  copper  pieces).  In  fact,  the  Suez  Ca- 
nal, throughout  its  whole  length  of  eighty-six  miles,  is  as 
shallow  as  any  ditch  except  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
channel,  and  even  there  it  has  a  depth  of  only  twenty  six 
and  a  quarter  feet,  with  a  mean  breadth  of  seventy,  widen- 
ing to  one  hundred  in  the  "sidings." 

Every  now  and  then  we  pass  a  neat  little  landing-place, 
surmounted  by  a  painted  station-house  overlooking  a  tiny 
patch  of  stunted  shrubs  and  straggling  Mowers,  doing  their 
best  to  grow  upon  a  thin  smear  of  soil  brought  from  a  dis- 
tance, and  plastered  upon  the  barren,  scorching  sand.  A 
little  farther  on  we  see,  perched  on  a  steep  sand  ridge  just 
at  the  point  where  the  canal  enters  the  wide  smooth  ex- 
panse of  the  Timsah  Lake,  a  primitive  sentry-box,  consist- 
ing merely  of  a  screen  of  dried  grass,  supported  by  four 
tall  canes,  beneath  which  a  drowsy  Arab  is  supposed  to 
look  out  for  passing  steamers  when  he  has  nothing  better 
to  do. 

But  just  as  we  are  two-thirds  of  the  way  across  the 
Timsah  Lake  itself,  one  of  the  many  shallow  lagoons 
through  which  the  canal  runs  for  a  full  third  of  its 


length,  we  see  the  French  steamer  ahead  of  us  halt  sud- 
denly, and  the  next  moment  comes  a  signal  that  a  boat 
has  run  aground  in  the  canal  beyond  the  lake,  and  that 
we  must  wait  until  she  gets  off  again. 

There  is  no  help  for  it,  and  we  are  just  making  up  our 
minds  to  a  halt  of  several  hours,  with  nothing  to  do  but 
stare  at  the  trim  bonbon-like  houses  and  dark  green  plan- 
tat  ions  of  Ismailia*  along  the  farther  shore,  with  the,  big 
white  front  of  the  Khedive's  palace  standing  up  in  the 
midst  like  an  overgrown  hotel,  when  an  unexpected  in- 
terruption occurs. 

"Look  here,  mates,"  shouts  a  sailor  perched  on  the 
jib-boom;  "here's  one  o'  them  darkies  out  for  a  swim. 
He'll  be  coming  to  challenge  old  Jack  here  to  swim  a 
match  for  the  championship  of  the  canal." 

"Let  him  try  it,"  retorts  a  tall,  raw-boned,  North  Coun- 
try man  behind  him.  "  If  that  'ere  nigger  thinks  he  can 
beat  me,  he'll  know  better  afore  long,  or  my  name  ain't 
Jack  Hawley." 

So  saying.  Jack  strips  and  plunges  in,  heading  straight 
for  the.  round  black  head  which  is  bobbing  about  like  a 
cork  in  the  smooth  water.  But  just  as  he  reaches  the 
Arab  the  latter  vanishes,  and  a  sharp  pinch  on  his  right 
calf  warns  Jack  that  his  enemy  has  taken  him  in  the  rear, 
amid  a  shout  of  laughter  from  the  steamer. 

Jack  darts  at  his  assailant,  who  dives  again,  and  com- 
ing up  beyond  him,  splashes  a  perfect  cataract  of  water  in 
liis  face,  and  instantly  the  two  are  at  it  with  might  and 
main,  filling  the  whole  air  with  showers  of  glittering 
spray. 

"  Will  you  swim  me  to  that  buoy  yonder,  Johnny?" 
challenges  Jack. 

"You  go,  me  go,"  grins  the  native,  and  off  they  start. 
At  first  the  Egyptian's  short,  snapping,  hand-over-hand 
stroke  carries  him  bravely  on;  but  little  by  little  the  long, 
steady,  powerful  strokes  of  the  Englishman  begin  to  tell, 
and  at  length  he  forges  slightly  ahead.  The  crew  cheer 
lustily,  and  fancy  that  Jack  has  certainly  won  the  race; 
but  the  young  Lieutenant,  who  knows  Arab  ways,  shakes 
his  head  and  tells  them  to  "  wait  a  bit." 

Poor  Jack !  he  has  forgotten  in  his  eagerness  that  his 
head  is  unprotected,  and  that  he  has  not  one  of  those  cast- 
iron  Eastern  skulls  that  can  defy  a  tropical  sun.  All  at 
once  his  head  is  seen  to  sway  dizzily  back,  he  throws  up 
his  arms  convulsively,  and  down  he  goes. 

"Stand  by  to  lower  the  boat!"  roars  the  Captain.  "Be 
alive  now !" 

As  if  moved  by  a  single  impulse,  the  men  spring  at  once 
to  the  davits;  but,  luckily  for  poor  Jack,  other  and  near- 
er help  is  at  hand.  The  Arab,  when  he  sees  his  rival's 
strength  fail  so  suddenly,  guesses  in  a  moment  what  is 
the  matter,  and  makes  for  him  at  once.  Three  powerful 
strokes  bring  him  alongside  of  the  sinking  man.  and  twin- 
ing his  sinewy  fingers  in  Jack's  bushy  liair.  lie  holds  the 
latter's  head  above  water,  paddling  gt'/.tly  meanwhile  to 
keep  himself  afloat. 

"Stand  by  your  tackle!  let  go!"  / 

The  tackles  rattle  sharply  throrgh  the  blocks,  the  boat 
splashes  into  the  water,  and  tl> ,  pps.->engers  spring  upon 
the  bulwarks  to  give  her  a  cb  ,*•  as  she  darts  away  toward 
the  two  imperilled  men,  as  .<jt  as  eight  sturdy  rowers  can 
propel  her. 

But  in  this  race  betv.  .vn  life  and  death  the  chances  are 
terribly  iu  favor  of  the  latter.  True,  the  water  of  the 
lake,  salter  by  far  than  the  sea  itself,  is  buoyant  as  India 
rubber;  but  it  is  110  easy  matter  for  the  Arab,  already 
spent  with  his  long  S'  .Jim,  to  support  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
helpless  sailor,  and  the  boat  seems  still  a  fearfully  long 
u  ay  off. 


*  ^amei]  after  its  founder,  Ismail  Pasha,  the  late  Khedive  of  Egypt- 
It  i>  conneeteil  with  Sue/.  l>v  a  fresh-water  canal,  through  which  the  lit- 
tle Egyptian  steam-launches  run  in  about  twelve  hours. 


i ! 


II. \KPEirs  YorXG  PEOPLE. 


19 


Once,  twice,  the  Englishman's  head  dips  below  the  sur- 
face, and  the  oarsmen  almost  leap  from  their  seals  as  t  h<-\ 
si  i-  it.  Pull,  boys,  pull!  And  now  they  are  but  three 
lengths  oil',  ami  now  but  one,  and  now.  with  a  deafening 
liurrah.  tin-  fainting  man  and  his  exhausted  re-cuer  are 
dragged  into  the  boat. 

Come,  boys,  "cried  Lieutenant  H ,  "that's  a  plucky 

fellow,  A rali  or  no  Arab.  What  do  you  say  to  sending 
round  the  hat  lor  him;  here's  a  nijx'i'"  ilifty  centsi  "to 
begin  with." 

And  half  an  hour  later  the  Aral)  was  on  his  way  hack 
to  the  shore,  with  more  money  tied  up  in  the  white  cotton 
sash  round  his  waist  than  lie  had  ever  had  before  in  his 
life. 

UNCLE  ZED'S   WoLF. 

A  TKl'K  STnKY. 
I:Y  MRS   K  vn:  \  PSOH  <  I.\I:K. 

AA!   baa!  baa '."  sounded  in  noisy,  frightened  chorus 

underneath    Parson    Dai-ins    Miller's    \\indows   one 
cold  April  moriiinir  about  til'ty  \  ea  '     ago 

So    loud  and   so   persistent    \\as  the  chorus  that   1' 
Milli-i-'s   ihree   slunly    boys  wen-   awake  and   on    their  feet 
before  it  had  grown  light  enough  |o  distinguish  anything 
in  t  he  "/ray  oal-ide 

"  Fa  I  hei- !  father!"  shoiileil  James,  the  second  hoy,  clat- 
tering down  tin-  slan-s  in  his  heavy  bouts.  "  wbat  ails  the 
sheep  ;  They're  all  huddled  11)1  close  to  the  liouse,  right 
under  your  window.  Don't  \oii  hear  them  '.  Say,  fa- 
ther, wake  up!" 

In  response  to  all  this  outcry,  good  Parson  Miller,  who 
was  a  hard  u  -orUi  nir  farmer  a--  well  as  a  par>mi.  and  slept 
the  Sleep  Of  the  just,  gave  I'orlli  a  feeble  and  on  l\  half  in- 
telligent "yes."  Presently,  however,  he  joined  the  boys, 
and  then  discovered  that  not  all  the  sheep  were  huddled 

together  lermalli    the  \\indows,  but    that    two  of  them 

were    mis, MIL:',  and    that     large   dangerous  looking   tracks 
were  all  over  the   light    snow      a    regular  "  sugar  snou  " 
which  co\  ei -ed  the  "round  outside. 

"I'll  bet  it's  a  wolf,"  vent  u red  Daniel,  the  eldesl  boy. 

"  GueSS  it's  nothing  but  a  wild  cat,"  said  the  parson. 

"Too  big  for  a  wild  eat,"  said  Torn.  "A  "real  deal 
bigger  than  I  he  one  Squire  Taylor  caught  in  his  trap." 

Tom  was  the  quiet  hoy.  hut  somehow,  when  Tom  spoke, 
even  the  older  ones  paid  attention.  Tom's  eyes  were  al- 
ways on  the  alert,  and  though  they  were  of  a  gray  and  by 
no  means  beautiful  color,  and  were  set  in  a  sallow  and 
"  peaked"  little  face.  Tom  was  considered  a  vastly  good 
looking  boy  by  all  of  the  family  and  bis  intimate  friends. 
on  the  principle  of  "  Handsome  is  I  hat  band  some  does." 

.lust  then  Squire  Taylor,  their  next  neighbor,  came 
tramping  hastily  across  his  held,  his  two  boys,  of  about 
the  same  age  as  Junies  and  Tom  Miller,  following  afler 
him. 

"Wolf  track's  all  around  my  barn,"  said  the  pood 
Squire,  excitedly,  before  he  had  come  near  enough  to  see 
the  sheep  lying  on  the  snow. 

"  There!"  cried  Daniel,  nodding  significantly  to  Tom. 

"Where's  the  fellow  gone?"  queried  little  Tom,  who 
•was  only  fourteen,  and  who  didn't  look  so  old  as  that  by 
reason  of  his  small  stature. 

"That'sit!  that's  it!"  cried  the  Squire,  slapping  Tom  ap- 
provingly on  the  shoulder.  "Where's  the  varmint  gone? 
Let's  track  him,  to  be  sure.  Hullo!  there's  Uncle  Zed." 

Sure  enough,  old  Zadok  Cummings,  familiarly  known 
as  "Uncle  Zed,"  was  hurrying  along  through  the  fields 
toward  them,  and  carrying  his  old  shot-gun  in  his  hands. 
The  news  had  evidently  travelled  fast. 

"Seen  him  ;"  shouted  the  old  man,  all  on  fire  with  ex- 
citement, while  drops  of  sweat  ran  down  his  russet  face,  in 
spite  of  the  chilly  weather.  "Jest  tell  me  what  d'rection 
lie's  took,  '11'  I'll  ketch  him'  The  critter!  I'll  ketch  him; 


oh,  I'll  ketch  him  !"  And  Uncle  Zed  looked  so  fierce  and 
funny  that  all  of  them  began  to  laugh.  But  they  finally 
succeeded  in  convincing  the  old  man  that  he  couldn't  pos- 
sibly "ketch  him."  fora  few  moments  at  least,  and  that 
the  ease  was  too  serious  for  them  to  decide  at  once  on  the 

best  course  to  pursue. 

"He'll  be  around  to-night  too,  and  bring  some  more 
with  him,  if  we  don't  ketch  him,"  put  in  Uncle  Zed,  when- 
ever a  good  chance  occurred. 

Two  or  three  had  started  out  to  follow  the  trail  of  the 
wolf,  and  they  came  back  to  report  that  the  tracks  ended 
in  Squire  Taylor's  woods. 

"We  must  make  a  ring  right  around  the  woods,  and 
hem  him  in — that's  the  way,"  said  the  Squire,  quickly. 

Tom,  standing  back  behind  his  brothers,  was  seen  to 
nod  approvingly,  whereupon  the  other  boys  did  the  same. 
Indeed,  the  proposition  seemed  to  commend  itself  to  the 
entire  company,  and  they  started  toward  the  woods,  those 
who  had  not  brought  guns  hurrying  off  to  gel  some. 

"I  could  do  it  jest  as  well  alone."  muttered  Uncle  Zed. 
"They  hain't  ben  no  wolves  around  here  for  several  years 
now.  but  I  hain't  forgot  how  to  ketch  'cm.  I  gnessl  hain't." 

The  men  were  disposed,  and  then  everything  was  pro- 
foundly quiet,  excepting  for  the  sound  of  the  beating  of 
the  bushes,  or  of  a  stray  shot,  when  some  Overconfident 
hunter  was  "sure  he  had  him." 

At  last  Uncle  Zed  heard  a  low  growl  in  a  thicket,  and 
he  had  hardly  time  to  raise  his  gun  when  out  sprang  an 
enormous  wolf,  and  came  directly  toward  him.  The  old 
man.  almost  paraly/.ed  with  fright,  pulled  the  trigger,  but, 
bis  hand  trembled  so  that  his  shot  went  a  yard  above  the 
wolf's  head,  and  the  animal  bounded  past,  him  unhurt. 
Uncle  Zed  shrieked,  "  Wolf!  wolf!"  and  a  half-dozen  men 
were  soon  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  discovered  game. 

Tom  Miller,  feeling  very  disconsolate  because  he  hadn't 
any  gun,  had  not  accompanied  the  rest;  but  his  mother, 
who  fell  no  fear  for  Tom.  and  sympathized  deeply  with  the 
courageous  little  fellow,  had  advised  him  to  go  to  a  certain 
neighbor's  and  see  if  he  couldn't  borrow  one.  It  was 
necessary  to  go  quite  a  distance,  but  Tom  had  ma.de  it  on 
old  Sorrel,  lh<-  marc.  He  bad  come  hack-  in  a  wonderful- 
ly short  time,  bringing  a  trusty  little  shot  gnu  with  him, 
and  was  making  bis  way  up  the  hill  just  as  the  wolf 
dashed  out  of  the  woods,  heading  in  his  direction. 

Tom's  heart  came  up  in  bis  throat,  but  he  ran  for  a 
cluni])  .if  bushes  close  by  that  he  thought  would  all'ord  a, 
good  position  for  a  shot,  stationed  himself  among  them, 
and  waited. 

The  cries  of  Ihe  men  iii  pursuit  came  nearer.  Then  the 
gallop  into  which  the  wolf  had  broken  from  its  quick 
trot  when  it  left  the  woods  seemed  to  shake  the  very 
ground  under  him.  Spring— spring — spring,  came  the 
terrilied  brute.  He  was  in  sight.  Tom  steadied  his 
gnu  and  fired.  The  wolf  uttered  a  cry,  half  bark,  half 
screech,  and  giving  a  few  lame  and  wounded  leaps,  lay 
bleeding  on  the  ground.  Then  shot  after  shot  from  the 
men  behind  was  poured  in  upon  the  poor  creature,  until 
he  lay  thoroughly  dead.  Tom  Miller  was  quite  the  hero 
of  the  day,  and  it  was  voted  unanimously  that  the  wolf- 
skin belonged  to  him. 

"  Well.  Uncle  Zed,  why  didn't  you  '  ketch  him,'  as  you 
said  you  were  going  to  '."  inquired  Squire  Taylor,  joking- 
ly, as  the  men  were  separating  to  go  to  a  late  dinner. 

"Don'  know  what  in  thunder  ailed  my  gun,"  com- 
plained Uncle  Zed,  rapping  that  unfortunate  weapon  cross- 
ly; "but,  after  all"— straightening  up  proudly — "you'd 
never  have  ketched  that  wolf  if  it  hadn't  'a  ben  for  me." 

"  How's  that  ?"  asked  the  Squire. 

"Why,  goodness  gracious!  didn't  you  hear  me  hol- 
ler? I  hollered  an'  started  you  all  up.  My!"  continued 
the  old  man,  reflectively,  as  he  turned  away  amid  a  gen- 
eral laugh,  which  did  not  appear  to  damp  his  spirits  in 
the  least,  "how  I  did  holler!" 


20 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


CORAL  REEFS. 

BY    SARAH    COOPER. 

THE  attention  of  seamen  and  navigators  lias  long  been 
attracted  by  the  number  of  circular  islands  in  the 
warm  parts  of  the  Pacific  and  Indian  oceans.  Generally 
each  one  of  these  circular  islands  contains  a  lake  of  quiet 
water  extending  almost  to  its  outer  shores,  so  that  the  isl- 
and looks  like  a  fairy  ring  of  land  floating  in  the  ocean, 
and  adorned  with  tropical  trees  and  plants. 

Happily  for  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  present  day,  this 
subject,  with  other  equally  fascinating  branches  of  sci- 
ence, has  now  been  studied  by  naturalists,  who  give  us  the 
rich  results  of  their  labors.  It  seems  scarcely  possible  that 


Fig.  1.— a,  a,  SURFACE  OF  THE  WATER;  b.  NATURAL  BED  OF  THE 
OCEAN  ;  c,  c,  CORAL  FORMATION  ;  (I,  LAGOON. 

the  dainty  beautiful  corals  which  we  examined  not  long 
ago  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE  can  have  anything  to  do  with  the 
making  of  islands,  but  so  it  is.  Coral  reefs  are  vast  mass- 
es of  coral  which  have  grown  in  warm  oceans.  Their 
formation  must  have  been  sknv,  yet  they  sometimes  ex- 
tend hundreds  of  miles.  Florida  and  many  other  parts  of 
our  solid  continents  are  known  to  have  been  formed  from 
coral  reefs. 

Let  us  now  try  to  picture  to  ourselves  the  beginning  of 
one  of  these  reefs,  and  by  following  its  growth  step  by 
step  we  may  at  least  understand  how  it  has  been  formed. 
Then.-  are  hills  and  valleys  on  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  as 
well  as  on  the  land.     We  will  fancy  that  some  young 
coral  polyps  which  have  been  swimming  about  in  the  sea 
settle  on  the  sides  of  one  of  these  hills,  and 
begin  to  grow  and  spread  all  around  it.     They 
will  increase  also  by  the  deposit  of  eggs  until 
they  form  a  circular  wall. 

As  the  coral  wall  grows,  the  lower  polyps 
and  the  inner  ones  die,  their  skeletons  form- 
ing a  solid  foundation  for  all  that  grow  above 
them.  There  may  be  only  about  an  inch  of 
living  coral  on  the  outside  of  the  reef. 

These  walls  rise  nearly  straight,  and  you 
will  see  that  in  doing  so  they  inclose  a  circu- 
lar basin  of  quiet  water,  and  now  you  can  un- 
derstand why  it  is  that  a  coral  island  mostly 
lias  a  lake  in  the  centre,  as  is  shown  in  Fig.  1. 
The  lakes  are  called  lagoons. 

The  bottom  of  the  wall  is  formed  of  brain- 
coral  and  other  solid  kinds  which  live  only 
in  deep  water,  and  they  die   when  a  certain 
height   is   reached.      The   formation   of   the   new   island 
does  not  stop  with  their  death,  however.     The  wall  hav- 
ing  now   reached   the  proper   height   to   suit  branching 
corals,  which  require  shallower  water,  their  young  polyps 
will  settle  upon  it,  and  iinish  the  structure.     We  might 
suppose  a  reef  formed  of  branching  corals  would  be  open 
and  unsubstantial,  but  in  their  growth  the  branches  are 
thickly   interlaced.      The    spaces   between   them  become 
filled   with    substances   floating  in   the   ocean,  and   with 
pieces  of  coral  which  are  broken  from  the  reef  by  the  fierce 
dashing  of  the  waves.      The  whole  forms  a  solid  mass, 
stronger,  perhaps,  than  any  stone   masonry.      The   frag- 


ments of  coral  suffer  no  serious  injury  by  breaking,  but  if 
lodged  in  some  favorable  spot  they  continue  to  grow. 

The  outer  edge  of  the  wall  is  steep  and  abrupt.  Sound- 
ings taken  just  outside  show  very  deep  water.  In  this 
portion  of  the  wall  the  corals  live  and  thrive,  always  sup 
plied  with  clear  water.  The  breakers  dash  against  it 
with  such  fury  that  apparently  the  hardest  rock  must  in 
time  yield  to  the  tremendous  force  of  the  waves.  But, 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  soft  jelly-like  bodies  of  the 
polyps  give  to  the  reef  the  power  of  resisting  the  billon  s. 

The  inner  surface  of  the  wall  slopes  gently  to  the  land, 
and  being  washed  by  quiet  waters  often  containing  sand 
and  mud,  it  is  not  favorable  to  the  growth  of  polyps. 
Still,  there  are  certain  kinds  of  coral  which  thrive  within 
the  lagoons;  some  of  them  are  exceedingly  brilliant  and 
beautiful. 

The  coral  polyps  die  before  they  reach  the  surface  of  the 
ocean,  as  no  corals  can  live  out  of  water.  The  remainder 
of  the  island  is  built  up  by  shells,  pieces  of  broken  coral, 
sea-weed,  and  other  floating  materials  which  are  washed 
upon  it,  raising  the  wall  higher  and  higher.  The  never- 
ceasing  action  of  the  waves  grinds  up  these  shells  and  bro- 
ken coral,  until  at  last  they  form  a  soil  of  sand  and  mud 
which  is  now  ready  to  receive  any  seeds  that  may  float  on 
the  water  or  be  brought  by  the  winds  and  the  birds.  The 
seeds  take  root  in  the  new  soil,  and  young  plants  begin  to 
appear  on  the  glistening  white  surface.  Floating  cocoa- 
nuts  often  lodge  on  the  shores,  and  cocoa-nut-trees  are 
among  the  first  to  grow  upon  them.  As  the  plants  drop 
their  leaves  and  decay,  the  soil  is  enriched  little  by  little, 
and  fitted  for  the  home  of  various  animals  and  birds, 
which  in  some  mysterious  manner  find  their  way  to  these 
lonely  spots  far  out  at  sea.  In  time  our  coral  reef  may 
become  a  beautiful  tropical  island  fringed  with  waving 
trees  and  plants,  and  inhabited  by  man. 

Circular  islands  seldom  form  complete  rings.  There  is 
generally  an  opening  into  the  lake  on  the  side  most  shel 
tered  from  the  wind.  A  safe  harbor  in  mid-ocean  is  thus 
made,  in  which  vessels  may  take  shelter,  but  it  requires  an 
expert  navigator  to  pass  the  perils  at  its  entrance.  To 
anchor  on  the  outer  shore  would  be  impossible.  In  Fig. 
2  is  a  pretty  little  coral  island  with  ships  in  its  lagoon,  if 
a  lake  is  entirely  inclosed  by  the  coral  wall,  it  may  in 


I -'i;;.  3.— AN  ATOLL. 

time   be  changed  to  fresh   water  by  the   rains   that  fall 
into  it. 

Coral  reefs  often  extend  to  a  depth  of  three  hundred 
feet  below  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  and  formerly  persons 
were  puzzled  to  know  how  they  could  have  grown  in  such 
deep  water,  as  no  coral  polyps  can  live  at  a  greater  depth 
than  twenty  or  thirty  fathoms.  This  puzzling  question 
was  settled  by  the  late  Charles  Darwin,  who  first  showed 
that  coral  islands  occur  where  then'  has  been  a  gradual 
sinking  of  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  As  the  reef  rises  in 
height,  the  sinking  of  the  foundation  partly  counteracts 
the  upward  growth  of  the  coral  ;  consequently  the  proper 


XOVKMIJKI:  i ; 


BAEPEB'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


21 


depth  of  water  is  secured,  and 
llie  reef  appears  to  lie  s| ;, i  i,  ,nary, 
whereas  it  is  really  gro  w  i  1 1  g  up- 
ward. 

Whene,,  r  a  coral  reef  ; 
above  the  surface  of  tile  ocean. 
\\e  may  kno\v  that  the  coral. 
which  grew  under  \vatei-.  lias 
'  ,ve  tile  level  of  the 
sea  by  a  rising  of  the  ocean  lied. 

These  circular  reel'-,  are  called 
"atolls."  They  arc-  ijuite  dill'er- 
cut  from  the  "  frill ging  reefs," 
which  extend  along  the  shon 
eoiitineiits  and  inlands.  There 
arc  usually  openings  or  breaks 
in  fringing  reefs  direct  I v  oppo 
site  the  moutlis  of  rivers  and 
fresh  water  streams,  as  the  corals 

can  not  endure  curients  which 
carrv  mud  or  sediment.  IVr 

haps      the      grandest        reel'      to      he 

found  in  any  ]iart   of  the  world 

is  the  one  extending  along  the-  

northeast  coast   of  A  list  ral ia.       It 

is   nearly  one  thousand    mile,    m 

Lengl  li.  and  pro\  6S  lo  us  t  hat   1  he 

helple--    COral    pol.v  ps   h.ne   played    QO   trilling  part    in    the 

formation  of  our  earth.       All  they  have  accomplished  has 

heeii  done  merely  hy  their  living  and  growing. 


THE  BOYS'  STORE-KEEPING. 

I!V  (  .  M    ST    DENYS. 
I. 

Vt '!,'( iss  ihe  wa.v   fi-oiu  the  Stanley  boys'  liome  a 
house   was     being    hllilt.        A     pile    of     lllllli" 
outside  of  the  sidewalk  in  fronl  of  the  m  ,-,    building,  and 

li  was  piled  so  irregularlj  thai  the  upper  boards  extended 

oul   considerably  hevond   the'  lower  ones,  thus   forming  a 
sheltered    spot     below.       The    ends  of    some    of    the 
boards,    too.    projected     in    such    a    way   as    to    mak< 
Shelves   al    ilill'ereul    heights,   and    even    a    rude  seat    and 
l.dile.       The    bovs    had    often    gathered    under   this  shelter 
for  a   chat,  and  when   John  and    l!oh  Slanhx    announced 
that  t  hey  saw  in  it   I  hi'  making  of  a  line  store,  all  I  he  other 
boys  groaned   inu  ardly.  and   said   to  themselves,   "  NVhy 
did  not  I  think  of  that  '." 

Of  course  Hob  and  John  did  not  plunge  mi.,  ihe  risks 
of  business  \\ilhoiit  lirsl  counting  the  cost.  The  plan 
was  well  digested.  The\  had  talked  it  over  fully  three 
days  before  il  ua.s  pnhlicly  announced. 

The  chief  difficulty  was  about  the  amount  of  capita]  to 

be  invested.  John  had  been  saving  up  his  mone\  for  a 
longtime  toward  buving  a  bicycle,  and  Boh— well,  Bob 
was  not  so  thrifty;  there  was  not  much  "save"  about 
him,  though  when  it  came  to  needing  the  luonev  to  set 
him  up  in  business,  lie  saw  cleurU  I  hat  he  must  mead  his 
ways. 

"I  declare.  John,"  he  said,  gloomily,  "  I  don't  believe  I 
can  rake  up  twenty-live-  cents  toward  Starting  the  store. 
I  wish  I'd  thought  of  it  before.  It  was  only  last  week  I 
bought  ten  cents'  worth  of  marbles." 

"Put  them  in  stock,  and  sell  out  at  an  advance,"  sug- 
gested John. 

Bob  shook  his  head.  "The  boys  aren't  going  to  pay 
me  more  for  marbles  than  they  can  get  them  for  at 
Thompson's.  Besides,  I  was  dunce  enough  to  show  them 
off  at  recess,  so  the  boys  would  call  them  second-hand. 
and  want  a  reduction.'' 

"That's  true.      But  you  had  better  lose  on  them  for  the 


sake  of  getting  some  cash  in  hand  that  von  could  lay  out 
in  something  you  could  make  money  on." 

"  I !u i  I  don't  see  hou  we  are  to  make  money,  anyhow. 

The  oilier  boys  call  buy  as  cheap  as  \ve  can." 

"No;  Thompson  would  comedown  in  his  prices  if  we 
told  him  we  were  buying  to  sell  again.      II  uy  ing  at  u  hole 
sale,  you  know,  they  always  do." 

"Solhev  do;"  and  I  Job's  face  brightened.  "You  have 
a  lot  of  money  to  put  into  the  business,  "he  said,  admiringly. 

"1  slut  n  t  put  all  m  v  money  in."  said  the  prudent  John. 
"It's  too  much  rislc.  I'd  rather  begin  small ;  and  then  I 
could  gel  niv  bicvcle  even  if  we  failed  ill  business." 

I 'or  il  must  be  admitted  that,  like  reasonable  beings, 
they  looked  forward  to  failure  as  the  most  probable  end 
ing  to  their  enterprise.  Nine  men  out  of  everv  leu  who 
start  in  business  Eor  themselves  fail;  and  why  should  not 
they  close  in  this  excit ing  and  approved  manner  '.  As  far 
i-  the  time  of  Macbeth  such  things  were  not  un- 
known; and  the  bovs  said  bravely  to  themselves,  "'If 
'.v  e  fail,  we  fail' ;  and  so  much  the  more  interest  ing." 

"  But  how  much  capital  are  you  going  to  put  in  .'"  per- 
sisted Hob. 

"  Well,  now.  really,  Bob,  if  we  are  to  be  even  partners, 

I  can'1    put    any  more  money  in   than   you  do.      It  would 
make  the  thing  too  complicated,  and  not  be  fair  to  me, 
you  know." 

I'.i ib  sighed.      '•'  Only  half  a  dollar  to  start  the  business! 

II  will  look  mean.      I  wish  I  had  not  got  so  many  glasses 
of  soda  water  this  season.      It's  worse   than   marbl:'i  for 
running  away  with  money." 

"We  might  take  in  some  more  partners."  said  John, 
aftera  thoughtful  pause. 

"  But  Dick  says  he  don't  care  about  it,  and  every  cent 
of  Sam's  money  goes  for  his  bantams  and  pigeons.'' 

"  What  do  you  say  to  asking  Tom  Fleming  '" 

"No," said  Bob,  decisively.  "  When  a  gold  mine  opens 
before  you,  keep  it  all  in  the  family,  I  say." 

But  the  difficulty  of  the  small  capital  still  remained. 
Their  anxiety  lost  the  boys  at  least  an  hour's  sleep  that 
night,  and  when  they  woke  in  the  morning,  the  same  bur- 
den at  once  took  possession  of  them. 

"  Let's  tell  Aunt  Sue  about  it."  said  Bob. 

Aunt  Sue  was  much  pleased  with  the  plan.  She  thought 
the  effort  to  conduct  the  little  business  would  give  them 
business  habits  and  tact.  She  made  suggestions  that  help- 
ed them  greatly. 


22 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"You  won't  need  much  money  to  start  with, "she  said. 
"Look  over  your  closets  and  boxes,  and  see  what  you 
have  already  that  you  would  like  to  dispose  of.  You 
have  a  good  many  toys  and  other  tilings  that  you  will 
never  use  again,  and  you  might  sell  them  for  something. 
Call  your  shop  a  new  and  second-hand  store,  and  that 
will  make  it  all  fair.  What  kind  of  a  stock  were  you 
thinking  of  keeping?" 

"Oh,  almost  anything.  Like  a  country  store,  you 
know.  Marbles,  and  tops,  and  slate-pencils,  and — 

"  And  chewing-gum,"  suggested  Bob.  "The  boys  and 
girls  buy  more  of  that  than  of  anything  else  lately." 

"I  wouldn't  keep  it  if  I  were  you,"  said  Aunt  Sue. 
"  It's  a  bad  habit  to  use  it,  and  you  want  to  establish  your 
business  on  good  principles.  I  hope  you'll  keep  bird-seed, 
though.  You  could  count  on  me  as  a  customer." 

"Well,  we  will,  and  we'll  give  up  the  chewing-gum. 
But,  Aunt  Sue,"  and  Bob  assumed  his  most  persuasive 
tones,  "I'll  tell  you  one  thing  we  could  sell  like  wild-fire, 
and  it  would  not  cost  us  anything,  either.'1 

"What?"  asked  Aunt  Sue,  smiling,  but  mentally  bra- 
cing herself  for  opposition. 

"Cookies." 

"Not  of -my  baking,  Bob.  You  ought  to  know  too 
much  of  the  trouble  and  expense  of  cake-making  to  think 
of  it.  I  can't  undertake  to  supply  the  town  with  cookies." 

Bob  sobered  at  this  reference  to  his  prowess  at  cake-bak- 
ing-; but  Sister  Bess,  regardless  of  his  feelings,  mischiev- 
ously suggested, 

"You  might  make  molasses  candy  for  sale." 

"It's  out  of  season,"  returned  Bob,  with  dignity.  "I 
guess  we'll  lay  in  a  stock  of  sour-balls." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do  for  you,"  said  Bess,  relent- 
ing. "  I'll  make  you  some  button-hole  bouquets." 

"Well,  but  I  don't  know  who'll  buy  them.'1 

"  They'll  help  to  fill  up  the  shelves  and  make  the  place 
look  pretty,  at  any  rate." 

Bob  and  John  began  to  feel  that  the  store  was  going  to 
be  a  success,  and  proceeded  to  overhaul  the  attic  for  sala- 
ble articles. 

The  sign-board  was  a  very  important  matter.  Dick  un- 
dertook to  paint  them  one.  But  as  it  would  take  some 
days  for  the  paint  to  dry,  it  was  decided  that  they  could 
begin  with  a  sign  chalked  on  an  old  slate. 

There  was  not  much  to  be  done  toward  fitting  up  the 
store.  A  piece  of  canvas  was  hung  on  one  side,  and  a 
loose  board  was  laid  across  the  entrance  for  protection 
against  the  rabble,  for  as  the  store  was  only  large  enough 
to  hold  the  proprietors  and  their  goods,  the  customers 
were  expected  to  make  their  purchases  over  the  counter 
from  the  outside. 

Saturday  was  to  be  "Opening  Day, "and  the  very  ear- 
liest people  on  their  way  to  market  saw  the  two  boys 
working  like  beavers  to  get  the  place  to  rights  in  good 
season.  By  the  time  the  village  boys  and  girls  had  break- 
fasted the  new  store  shone  out  in  all  its  glory,  with  the 
sign  "STANLEY  BROTHERS"  the  most  conspicuous  thing 
about  it. 

The  marbles  and  other  small  articles  were  arranged  as 
neatly  as  possible  in  boxes  on  the  irregular  little  shelves. 
Some  old  story-books  with  the  boys'  dictionary  were  piled 
modestly  in  the  background,  while  the  jar  of  sour-balls 
and  the  row  of  tasty  little  bouquets  were  paraded  on  the 
counter. 

This  plan,  however,  did  not  work  well,  for  the  boys 
found  themselves  obliged  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  these  at- 
tractive goods  to  prevent  their  being  snatched  by  evil-dis- 
posed visitors,  and  it  was  very  harassing.  The  business 
had  been  s»  well  advertised  beforehand,  at  recesses  and 
on  other  occasions,  that  the  whole  juvenile  population 
made  a  point  of  repairing  thither  in  the  course  of  the  day. 
Most  of  them  came  only  to  look,  but  that  was  to  be  ex- 
pected on  Opening  Day. 


The  boys  had  not  thought  of  putting  up  a  notice  to  the 
effect  that  it  was  no  trouble  to  show  goods;  but  if  they 
had,  that  day's  experience  would  have  decided  them 
against  it.  Some  of  the  boys,  and  girls  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter, were  very  provoking,  and  insisted  on  seeing  every- 
thing that  was  in  the  store,  when  they  had  not  the  least 
intention  of  buying  anything. 

Some  of  them,  too,  were  very  frank  in  expressing  their 
opinion  about  the  stock.  Tlicij  would  not  open  a  store 
at  all  if  they  could  do  no  better  than  that. 

But  the  very  worst  of  it  all  was  that  all  the  boys  that 
did  want  to  buy  always  wanted  to  trade  off  something 
else  for  the  goods;  and  the  girls  were  more  unreasonable 
still,  for  they  thought  that  Bob  and  John  ought  to  be  will- 
ing to  sell  everything  for  pi:is. 

By  noon  the  boys  were  beginning  to  feel  quite  dejected. 
To  be  sure,  they  had  taken  in  a  few  cents  for  sour-balls; 
but  then  they  had  reason  to  believe  that  several  had  been 
feloniously  abstracted  while  the  throng  was  greatest — for 
part  of  the  time  the  little  counter  had  been  lined  three  or 
four  deep — so  that,  on  the  whole,  they  would  probably 
lose  on  this  most  popular  article.  Bob  and  John  each  ate 
a  sour-ball  to  restore  their  spirits. 

"They'll  melt  in  this  bright  sun, "said  Bob,  "and  the 
flowers  are  wilting.  We  had  better  put  them  back  in  the 
shade.  What  shall  we  put  front  instead?" 

"Slate-pencils,"  suggested  John. 

"Pooh!  Catch  a  boy  buying  a  slate-pencil  on  Satur- 
day." 

The  question  was  still  unsettled  when  the  welcome 
sound  of  the  dinner  bell  was  heard.  Obeying  the  first  im- 
pulse, both  boys  started  for  home.  Then  Bob  stopped. 

"  I  don't  believe  it's  safe  to  leave  the  store  alone,"  he 
said. 

"  No,  of  course  not.  You  stay  till  I  corne  back.  I'm 
awfully  hungry." 

"  I  guess  I'm  as  hungry  as  you  are,"  returned  Bob,  but 
John  was  half-way  across  the  street;  so  Bob,  calling  to 
him  to  hurry  back,  sat  down,  hungrier  than  ever,  to  nurse 
his  provocation  over  that  selfish  John.  There  was  no- 
help  for  it;  he  must  try  if  another  sour-ball  would  stop 
the  guawings  of  hunger  and  sweeten  his  temper  for  the 
next  customer. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  town  must  dine  at  the  same 
hour,  for  Bob  was  left  quite  lonely  for  a  while. 

Then  John  came  back,  devouring  a  biscuit  as  he  came, 
and  making  some  remarks  beginning,  "Aunt  Sue  says," 
which  Bob  did  not  stop  to  hear,  for  the  boys  passed  each 
other  in  the  middle  of  the  street  like  two  oppositely  bound 
locomotives. 

II. 

Bob  staid  a  long  time.  Neither  did  he  move  as  swiftly 
on  his  return  trip  as  he  had  when  he  started  out. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  John,"  lie  said,  at  the  first  op- 
portunity, "we'll  have  to  take  in  some  outside  partners, 
after  all.  A  couple  of  the  Flemings  could  help  us  first- 
rate.  They  always  have  their  meals  later  than  we  do." 

"Well, "said  John,  "I  don't  know  but  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  to  have  somebody  to  share  the  responsibility." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  we  can  make  room  for  any 
more  boys  insido  here.  It's  crowded  enough  now." 

"We  don't  all  need  to  be  inside  at  once.  One  could  be 
floor-walker,  and  one  a  detective,  or  something  in  the 
crowd.  I'd  like  it.  It's  tiresome  sitting  in  this  little 
place  all  day.  I  got  awfully  cramped  this  morning." 

So  overtures  were  made  to  Tom  and  Fred  Fleming,  who> 
felt  quite  Haltered,  and  accepted  the  honor  at  once.  After 
some  discussion  they  were  installed  as  silent  partners,  and 
contributed  their  quota  of  fish-hooks  and  decalcomaiiie 
pictures,  etc.,  to  the  now  flourishing  business. 

The  shop  being  so  near,  Aunt  Sue  and  Bessie  visited  it 
in  the  afternoon  to  see  how  the  boys  were  getting  on. 


NOVEMBER  I  l,  1SS2. 


HAMPER'S  YOTXG  PEOPLE. 


23 


They  \\civ  shocked  to  see  some  of  their  own  possessions 
airing  in  the  nc\v  store.  An  old  set  of  false  curls  hung 
dangling  on  a  nail,  like  a  scalp  adorning  an  Indian  wig- 
wam as  an  honoralile  tn.phy. 

"You  outrageous  boys!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Sue,  as  she 
seized  and  confiscated  it.  "  Where  did  you  get  this  ;" 

"Out  of  the  attic."  said  Bob,  meekly.  "1  thought  you 
were  done  with  it." 

"But  it's  not  for  sale  if  I  am  done  with  it.  I'm  sur- 
prised at  you." 

Aunt  Sue  seemed  really  hurt,  and  was  scarcely  mollified 
by  Bob's  saying,  coaxingly,  "Oh.  now.  Aunt  Sue, don't  be 
vexed.  I  always  liked  to  see  them  hanging  down  your 
neck.  They  looked  so  pretty,  I  thought  somebody  else 
might  be  glad  to  get  them." 

By  this  time  Bessie  had  discovered  a  tin-type  of  herself 
among  a  lot  of  cheap  pictures,  and  her  wrath  hurst  forth 
on  John,  who  was  just  congratulating  himself  on  having 
escaped  his  aunt's  wrath. 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  right  you  have  to  offer  my  pic- 
ture for  sale."  she  said,  indignant  ly. 

"  It's  not  yours.  It's  mine.  You  gave  it  to  me  on  my 
birthday." 

"And  that's  all  you  rare  for  it!  I'll  he  careful  how  I 
ever  give  my  picture  to  another  hoy.  (Jive  it  to  me  this 
minute." 

"Why.no,  Bess.  It  shows  how  much  we  admire  it. 
Other  folks  do  too.  I  had  an  offer  for  it  this  morning, 
but  I  couldn't  make  the  change." 

Bessie's  eyes  flashed ;  and  Aunt  Sue.  coming  to  the  res- 
cue, quietly  laid  the  picture  in  her  hag  u  ith  I  he  curls. 

"I  think  you  had  better  show  us  your  whole  stock, 
boys, "  she  said,  calmly.  "What  are  your  skates  doing 
here  ?" 

"  I'm  going  to  sell  them.  I'd  rather  have  a  bicycle  than 
skates  any  day." 

"Very  well;  only  if  you  part  with  them  don't  expect 
to  have  a  new  pair  given  to  \<>n  when  winter  Comes. 
What,  I  looks  |ia\  e  \  mi  '.  Win  .  bo\  s.  you  are  not  going  to 
sell  your  dictionary  1" 

"  Oh,  I'm  tired  of  looking  through  it.     The'  old  hoi  her!" 

"It  must  be  taken  home, "said  Aunt  Sue.  with  deci- 
sion. "  It  won't  do  to  have  your  father's  dictionaries 
thumbed  and  dog-eared  in  this  way.  You  must  keep 
your  ou  n." 

The  hoys  were  beginning  to  think  thai  the  custom  of 
their  immediate  relatives  was  not  going  to  lie  profita- 
ble. But  the  sei/tuvs  were  Over  now.  and  Aunt  Sue 
actually  bought  in  John's  old  copy  of  <  Irii/imil  I'HCIIIH. 
Bessie,  too.  concluded  to  be  forgiving,  and  she  and  Aunt 
Sue  made  several  other  purchases,  so  that  they  left  the 
hoys  in  good  spirits  in  spile  of  the  bad  beginning. 

In  the  trying  morning  hours  the  boys  had  decided  to 
close  early  every  Saturday  afternoon  "  for  the  sake  of 
their  clerks."  But  they  fell  better  after  the  Flemings 
came  to  their  assistance,  and  did  not  close  until  six  o'clock, 
when  everything  had  to  lie  packed  in  boxes  and  carried 
home  until  Monday.  Before  doing  this,  however,  they 
took  an  account  of  stock  and  balanced  their  accounts, 
which  was  a  comparatively  simple  matter,  as  they  sold 
nothing  on  credit.  Aunt  Sue  had  bought  half  their  sup- 
ply of  bird-seed,  and  Molly  Fleming  had  taken  all  the 
bouquets  at  half  price  to  distribute  in  the  infant  school 
the  next  morning.  The  boys  spent  the  evening  in  talking 
over  the  events  of  the  day. 

"If  we  did  so  well  on  the  first  day,  what  may  we  not 
expect  on  the  second  ?"  was  the  feeling  with  which  the 
young  merchants  began  business  on  Monday.  But  Mon- 
day brought  new  trials.  The  goods  had  all  to  be  packed 
away,  and  the  store  closed  by  school-time,  which  seemed 
rather  humiliating.  Of  course  the  boys  intended  to  re- 
sume punctually  at  twelve  o'clock.  But  how  unlucky! 
They  all  unaccountably  missed  their  lessons,  and  were 


kept  in  to  correct  them,  so  that  they  lost  the  whole  of 
their  noon  trade. 

Perhaps  this  only  gave  greater  zest  to  the  afternoon 
spell,  for  they  kept  open  quite  late  that  evening.  Still, 
with  aH  their  devotion,  business  flagged.  Infant  schools 
could  not  absorb  a  stock  of  bouquets  every  day.  and  Aunt 
Sue  had  enough  bird-seed  to  last  her  a  week.  The  sour- 
ball  business  proved  to  be  quite  a  losing  one,  for  the  lus- 
cious things  melted  away  mysteriously  even  when  kept  in 
the  shade,  although  each  partner  kept  a  strict  watch  on 
himself,  and  seldom,  oh,  very  seldom,  refreshed  himself 
with  one. 

Things  got  so  serious  that  the  four  partners  held  a  busi- 
ness meeting  that  evening  after  the  store  closed. 

"  We've  got  to  do  something,  boys,  or  we'll  break  be- 
fore the  week's  out,  sure  as  fate,"  said  Fred  Fleming. 

By  Tuesday  the  boys  had  that  care-worn  look  that 
men  acquire  when  they  can't  make  both  ends  meet.  The 
other  boys  really  pitied  (hem,  and  some  of  them  actually 
bought  slate-pencils  on  their  way  to  school  in  the  after- 
noon, though  they  did  not  need  them. 

That  very  afternoon  an  occurrence  took  place  which 
threatened  to  end  the  boys'  store-keeping  quite  tragically. 

An  organ-grinder,  with  his  red-coated  monkey,  planted 
himself  just  beside  the  pile  of  lumber  and  began  to  play. 
This  pleased  Tom  and  Bob.  who  happened  to  be  in  sole 
charge  at  the  time.  They  enjoyed  a  monkey's  antics  as 
well  as  any  one. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  flag  waving  over  the  sign  of  the 
"Stanlej  I'.mihers"  that  suggested  to  the  man  to  play 
"  Rally  round  the  Flag,  Boys."  He  played  it  with  a  will, 
and  the  boys,  and  girls  too.  rallied  with  a  vengeance.  The 
young  merchanls  found  their  store  again  a  grand  centre 
of  attraction. 

The  monkey  seemed  particularly  delighted  with  it,  for, 
after  dancing  and  bowing  on  the  organ-top  a  short  time, 
be  leaped  upon  the  counter,  and  before  the  proprietors 
knew  what  he  was  about  he  had  thrust  his  paw  into  the 
box  of  rubber  balls,  and  was  throwing  a  ball  into  the 
crowd. 

A  shout  of  delight  greeted  this  feat.  Tom  and  Bob  each 
made  a  dive  after  the  monkey,  but  he  dexterously  eluded 
them,  and  threw  another  ball. 

Of  course  the  balls  were  thrown  back  at  him,  and  in  a 
moment  the  air  seemed  full  of  them.  Hying  in  every  di- 
reclion.  The  boys  could  not  turn  their  heads  but  bounce 
would  come  a  ball  into  their  eyes,  and  if  they  tried  to  say, 
"  You  rascal,"  the  words  would  be  cut  short  by  a  ball  fly- 
ing into  their  mouths.  The  uproar  was  tremendous,  and 
the  crowd  grew  larger  every  minute.  The  monkey  seem- 
ed to  be  in  his  element,  dancing  and  jumping  from  shelf 
to  shelf,  grinning  and  chattering  with  all  his  might,  and 
when  there  was  no  ball  convenient  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
throw  something  else. 

The  boys  grew  desperate  when  they  saw  their  slate-pen- 
cils and  Jew's-harps  flying  through  the  air. 

'See  here!"  they  shouted  to  the  organ-grinder,  who 
was  now  peacefully  play-ing  the  "Marseillaise  Hymn," 
"  this  thing  is  getting  dangerous.  Take  your  old  monkey 
away,  will  you  ?  You'll  have  to  pay  for  all  the  damage. 
Do  you  hear  ?" 

It  would  have  been  surprising  if  he  had  heard  in  all  that 
uproar,  but  he  gave  no  sign. 

Tom  made  another  lunge  at  the  monkey,  and  fell 
sprawling1  over  the  counter.  Then  Bob  dived  at  him,  but 
the  monkey,  reaching  down  from  a  high  perch,  deftly 
lifted  Bob's  hat,  and  threw  it  into  the  crowd. 

"  You  rascal.      I'll  pay  you  for  this, "screamed  Bob. 

But  the  next  thing  the  monkey  did  was  to  plant  himself 
on  Bob's  head.  Bob,  with  his  face  as  red  as  the  monkey's 
coat,  clutched  wildly  at  him,  but  the  monkey  clutched  the 
tighter. 

Bob  could  do  nothing  but  scream  and  beat  at  the  mis- 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"YOU    OUTRAGEOUS   BOYS:'    EXCLAIMED    AUNT    SUE.' 


ehievous  animal,  first  with  one  hand,  then  with  the  other, 
then  with  both  at  once,  while  the  crowd  shouted  with 
laughter,  until  the  organ-grinder,  seeing  that  his  monkey 
was  really  in  danger,  stopped  his  music,  called  off  his  pet, 
and  began  to  move  away.  Then  the  crowd  of  children 
dispersed. 

John  and  Fred,  who  had  been  taking  their  turn  "off'' 
when  these  proceedings  began,  now  made  their  way  to 
their  crest-fallen  comrades.  Bob  was  too  angry  to  make 
any  attempt  to  collect  his  property.  He  picked  up  his 
battered  hat  and  walked  home,  saving.  "  I  don't  care  what 
becomes  of  the  old  things.  I've  done  with  them." 

A  few  of  their  friends  were  kind  enough  to  assist  them 
in  the  search,  but  it  was  a  sorry-looking  set  of  goods  that 
were  collected. 


"They're  half  of  them  gone,"  said  Tom.  "I  do  be- 
lieve that  monkey  went  off  with  his  cheeks  and  pockets 
full  of  our  things. '' 

''I'll  have  that  man  prosecuted,"  said  John,  fiercely. 
"  Which  way  did  he  go  2" 

"Oh,  he's  more  likely  to  prosecute  us.  He  says  Bob 
hall'  killed  his  monkey." 

Sadly  the  boys  packed  up  their  damaged  goods  and 
carried  them  home,  protesting  that  they  had  had  enough 
of  store-keeping.  The  monkey  had  scratched  Bob's  head 
so  hard  that  he  was  really  suffering,  and  Bess  had  to  run. 
for  the  arnica  bottle,  and  bandage  his  head. 

Aunt  Sue  was  particularly  liberal  with  the  cake  and 
preserves  that  evening  at  tea,  and  if  anything  could  have 
comforted  the  boys,  it  was  such  thoughtfuluess. 


NOVEMBER  u.  i882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•25 


A    FLIRTATION*. 


ITATIPETC'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SQUIRRELS,  AND  HOW  TO  KEEP  THEM. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

IT  seems  almost  cruel  to  catch  and  cage  such  a  bright, 
winsome  little  fellow  as  a  squirrel.  In  his  natural 
state  he  seems  to  be  thoroughly  luippy.  His  home  is  a 
snug  little  hole  in  the  fork  of  a  tree,  and  all  the  nut-bear- 
ing giants  of  the  forest  pay  tribute  to  him.  Bright,  hap- 
py, "cunning"  little  fellow,  if  you  must  keep  him  as  a  pet, 
lavish  upon  him  such  kindness  and  attention  as  shall  re- 
concile him  to  the  prison  bars,  and  make  him  forget  his 
forest  home. 

The  name  squirrel  comes  from  the  Greek  word  sciurus, 
which  is  made  up  of  two  words,  signify  ing  shade  and  tail, 
indicative  of  the  little  creature's  habit  of  shading  its  entire 
body  when  at  rest  with  its  tail. 

Of  the  species  known  to  our  woods,  the  most  common 
is  the  striped  squirrel,  an  industrious  little  body,  fond  of 
his  home  and  family,  and  seldom  given  to  roving,  but  one 
which  the  con  finement  of  a  cage  kills  in  a  very  short  time. 

Then  there  is  a  little  animal  known  by  the  boys  as  a 
chipmunk,  which  some  naturalists  declare  is  a  member 
of  the  squirrel  family,  while  others  give  it  the  name  of 
dormouse.  It  makes  a  good  pet,  but  must  be  kept  in  a 
warm  place,  and  besides  the  usual  food  for  squirrels  it  re- 
quires milk. 

The  black  squirrel  is  the  largest  of  its  species,  and  while 
it  will  live  in  a  cage,  is  rarely  a  tractable  animal,  requir- 
ing a  vast  amount  of  patience  to  induce  it  even  to  take 
its  food  when  any  one  is  looking  at  it. 

Then  there  is  the  flying-squirrel,  which  resembles  the 
striped  species.  It  does  not  really  fly,  but  has  the  power 
of  flattening  its  legs  and  feet  in  such  a  way  that  they  do 
not  look  unlike  wings.  In  leaping,  the  legs  and  feet  sus- 
tain it  in  the  air  until  it  almost  seems  as  if  it  was  flying. 

It  is  the  gray  squirrel  that  is  the  most  contented  in  cap- 
tivity, and  the  most  easily  tamed  :  therefore,  if  one  really 
thinks  it  necessary  to  his  happiness  to  make  a  prisoner  of 
such  a  liberty-loving  little  creature,  he  should  procure  one 
of  the  gray  species. 

If  the  reader  is  a  would-be  squirrel  owner,  and  proposes 
to  catch  one  in  the  woods,  he  will  be  obliged  to  take  just 
the  kind  of  one  that  is  foolish  enough  to  enter  his  trap; 
but  if  he  proposes  to  buy  one,  he  should  select  it  carefully, 
for  much  depends  upon  the  condition  of  the  prisoner  in 
taming  or  keeping  him. 

See  that  the  fur  is  sleek  and  glossy,  for  dry,  ruffied- 
looking  fur  is  a  sure  sign  the  animal  is  sick,  or  pining  so 
for  the  woods  that  he  will  not  lire  very  long  in  a  cage. 
Observe  well  if  the  feet  are  clean,  for  if  they  are  dirty,  he 
has  lost  all  pride  in  his  appearance,  which  is  another  sign 
of  homesickness  or  some  equally  serious  ailment.  The 
eyes  should  be  bright,  and  the  teeth  perfectly  white. 
Yellow  teeth  are  a  sign  of  age,  and  it  is  as  difficult  to  tame 
a  very  old  squirrel  as  it  is  to  keep  him  alive  in  captivity. 

Beware  of  squirrels  brought  around  by  men  who  say 
they  have  caught  and  tamed  them.  If  they  look  stupid 
and  inactive,  the  chances  are  that  they  have  been  drugged 
to  make  them  seem  tame,  and  if  they  live,  they  will  sure- 
ly be  wild  and  intractable. 

Having  made  the  selection  of  just  such  a  one  as  you 
want  for  a  pet,  give  him  all  the  comfort  possible  in  the 
way  of  a  cage.  It  is  better  to  have  a  large  rough  one 
than  a  small  7ieat-looking  one;  and  if  it  is  not  possible  to 
buy  a  large  cage,  make  one  yourself,  and  the  squirrel  will 
be  pleased  at  the  absence  of  style  because  of  the  increased 
facilities  fin'  moving  about. 

A  board  thirty-six  inches  long  and  sixteen  wide  is  quite 
as  small  a  base  for  the  house  and  run-around  as  should  be 
given.  Twenty-two  inches  of  this  length  should  be  de- 
voted to  the  dwelling  portion,  which  should  be  built  some- 
thing after  the  style  of  a  one-story  cottage,  with  a  second 
floor  just  at  the  slope  of  the  roof,  so  that  the  attic  may 


serve  as  sleeping-room  and  a  place  to  which  the  squirrel 
can  retire  when  he  is  anxious  to  be  hidden  from  view. 

The  lower  front  of  the  house  may  be  of  wire,  so  that  a 
portion  of  his  domestic  life  may  be  seen.  The  second 
floor  should  have  in  it  an  opening  about  three  inches 
square,  which  is  connected  with  the  first  floor  by  a  small 
strip  of  board  or  thin,  stuff  of  any  kind,  placed  at  an  an- 
gle, so  that  he  can  get  "upstairs"  without  difficulty. 

The  floors  should  be  of  some  hard  wood,  so  that  they 
may  not  absorb  water,  and  the  whole  place  should  be 
cleaned  thoroughly  once  in  every  three  or  four  weeks. 
In  order  to  do  this  readily,  it  is  well  to  have  one  side  of 
the  house  fastened  with  hinges,  so  it  may  be  swung  open, 
and  then  the  little  fellow  can  be  shut  into  the  wheel  dur- 
ing house-cleaning.  The  lower  compartment  should  have 
a  wire  door,  through  which  food  can  be  given. 

The  wheel  in  which  he  takes  his  tread-mill  exercise 
any  tin  or  wire  worker  can  make,  and  the  hole  which 
connects  it  with  the  house  should  be  large  enough  to  pre- 
vent any  possibility  of  his  getting  squeezed  if  he  attempts 
to  go  into  his  house  while  the  wheel  is  turning  rapidly. 

Give  the  little  prisoner  plenty  of  nuts  of  any  kind,  al- 
though those  containing  the  least  oil  are  the  best — acorns, 
wheat,  stale  bread,  a  little  boiled  potato,  and  once  in  a 
very  great  while  a  bit  of  cooked  meat.  Keep  a  small  dish 
of  water  in  the  cage,  and  see  to  it  carefully  that  it  is 
changed  each  day. 

Ill  all  dealings  with  the  squirrel  it  is  necessary  to  be  gen- 
tle and  patient  with  him,  if  it  is  desired  to  make  of  him  a 
real  pet.  Do  not  force  him  out  of  his  nest  when  he  goes 
into  it,  nor  keep  him  in  the  wheel  when  he  desires  to  go 
into  his  house. 

Each  time  that  he  is  fed,  whistle  or  make  some  peculiar 
sound,  and  he  will  soon  learn  to  come  when  he  is  called. 
This  is  the  first  step  toward  teaching  him  to  come  into  his 
owner's  hands.  After  he  has  learned  to  come  at  call,  hold 
some  particular  dainty  in  the  fingers,  and  do  not  let  him 
have  it  until  he  takes  it  himself. 

When  once  he  has  learned  to  have  perfect  confidence  in 
his  master,  he  will  not  scruple  to  take  food  from  his  hands, 
ami  in  a  very  short  time  will  be  bold  enough  to  explore 
his  pockets,  going  into  them  bodily,  for  something  to  eat 
that  is  a  trifle  better  than  his  regular  fare. 


NAN.* 

BY   MRS.  JOHN   LILLIE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  V. 

NAN  thought  that  the  delight  of  this  day  never  could  be 
equalled  by  anything  life  would  bring,  even  at  Bever- 
ley.  To  begin  with,  she  and  Miss  Phyllis  started  out  in  a 
luxurious  carriage,  which  rolled  them  through  the  town, 
past  the  butter  shop,  where  Mrs.  Rupert  was  standing  in  the 
doorway,  and  deposited  them  at  Mr.  Lennon's  large  store, 
into  which  Nan  had  never  gone  half  so  proudly  before. 

"You  needn't  appear  to  recognize  any  one,  Nan,"  Miss 
Phyllis  said,  just  as  they  went  in  ;  and  this  dashed  Nan's 
spirits  just  a  little,  for  Mary  Seymour,  one  of  the  girls  in 
the  millinery-room,  was  a  particular  friend  of  her  aunt's; 
but  then  Miss  Phyllis  must  know  best,  thought  Nan,  and 
she  would  trust  to  luck's  keeping  Mary  out  of  their  way. 

Everybody  was  most  polite  to  Miss  Rolf;  and  when 
she  said  quietly,  "  I  want  to  see  your  handsomest  dresses, 
ready  made,  for  this  little  girl."  Nan  could  hardly  move  to 
follow  them  upstairs.  Out  of  a  long  case,  dress  after 
dress  was  taken,  held  up,  tried  on,  examined,  and  criticised 
by  Miss  Phyllis,  who  sat  languidly  with  her  purse  and  her 

*  Begun  in  No.  1ST,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


JCOVEMRER  14.  1RS2. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


27 


note-book,  evidently  quite  regardless  of  prices.  It  was 
well  Nan's  opinion  was  not  asked,  for  she  would  never 
have  daivd  to  choose  what  Miss  Phyllis  did  for  her.  :i  soff 
seal  brown  wool  costume,  handsomely  trimmed  with  silk, 
and  with  a  jacket  to  match.  Miss  Phyllis  quietly  desired 
Nan  to  put  these  garments  on ;  and  when  the  saleswoman 
brought  her  back  from  the  dressing-room,  her  cousin  could 
not  repress  a  smile  of  satisfaction;  and  really  little  Yin 
did  credit  to  the  quiet,  lady-like  costume.  Miss  Phyllis 
saw  a  great,  many  possibilities  in  the  child's  bright  face 
and  pretty,  slender  figure. 

The  hat  question  came  next,  and  here  Nan's  joy  was 
somewhat  dampened  by  her  fear  that  Mary  Seymour 
would  appear  and  claim  acquaintance,  and  thereby  annoy 
Mis-,  Phyllis ;  and  sure  enough,  while  she  was  trying-  011  a 
beautiful  brown  felt  hat  with  a  scarlet  wing  in  it.  Mary 
Seymour's  voice  was  heard  cheerily  from  across  the  room. 

"  \Vhy,  Nan   Rolf,"  she  was  saying,  "is  that  \  on 

And  then  Nan  saw  that  her  princess  could  look  vcry 
differenton  different  occasions.  She  turned  a  cold  little 
stare  upon  poor  Mary,  and  then  said,  in  a  tone  that  the 
shop-girl  could  hear  perfectly,  "  Who  is  that.  A  nnice  ." 

Now  it  wasthe  lirsl  time  Nan  had  been  called  by  her  full 
name  since  her  fa!  her  died,  and  bet  ween  the  start  it  gave 
her.  and  her  little  worry  about  Mary  Seymour,  sin-  hardly 
knew  what  to  say.  and  stood  looking  guiltily  at  her  aunt's 
friend,  with  a  rush  of  color  in  her  face. 

"  It  is  Mary  Seymour."  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

Miss  Phyllis  waited  a  moment,  the  cold  look  si  ill  on  her 
face;  then  she  took  Nan  by  the  hand,  and  went  across  tin- 
room  to  where  Mary  Was  busy  putting  bonnet  frames  into 
11  drawer. 

"My  little  cousin  is  going  away  from  Bromfield,"  she 
said,  smiling,  but  speaking  in  the  very  chilliest  tone. 
"Perhaps  you  had  better  say  'good  by'  to  her  now.  She 
is  going  to  live  with  her  aunt  at  ISeverley." 

Poor  Mary  stared  at  the  beautiful  young  lady,  and  said 
nothing  for  a  moment  ;  then  she  stooped  down  and  kissed 
Nan's  little  red  cheek  heartily. 

"  Well,  good-luck  go  with  you,  Nannie  dear."  she  said  : 
and  half  understanding  the  impression  Miss  Rolf  wished 
to  make,  she  added,  looking  up  with  a  sad  smile,  "I  sup- 
pose it  won't  do  to  expect  you  to  remember  us  any  more, 
but  Tommy  '11  miss  you  dreadfully." 

"I'll  write  him  a  letter,  Mar\,"  Nan  exclaimed,  and 
seeing  Miss  Rolf's  look  of  surprise  turn  to  something  like 
disgust,  she  added,  "Tommy  is  Mary's  lame  little  bro- 
ther." 

Miss  Phyllis  said  nothing,  but  led  the  way  back  to  the 
ha's,  and  Nan,  unable  to  restrain  herself  further,  whisper- 
id,  "Miss  Rolf,  Cousin  Phyllis,  why  did  you  say  I  was  go- 
ing to  lh'6  at  Beverley,  when  it  is  only  a  visit 

Miss  Phyllis  bit  her  lip  angrily.  "Never  mind.'  a 
all  she  answered  ;  and  then  the  brown  felt  hat  was  chosen, 
and  the  purchases  went  on — gloves,  and  boots,  and  some 
dainty  under  linen,  and  various  small  belongings,  until 
finally  all  that  remained  on  Miss  Phyllis's  list  was  a  dress- 
ing-case and  a  trunk.  Nan  hardly  knew  which  of  the 
beautiful  cases  to  choose  when  her  cousin  left  it  to  her; 
but  finally  a  black  leather  one  with  silver  fastenings  was 
selected,  and  Miss  Phyllis  directed  the  shopman  to  have 
Nan's  initials,  A.  B.  R.,  put  on  it  in  little  silver  letters. 

By  this  time  Nan,  in  her  new  brown  suit,  with  her 
hands  in  three-button  kid  gloves,  had  begun  to  think 
she  never,  never  could  do  justice  to  the  day,  to  Philip  and 
Marian,  and  yet  a  something  had  stolen  over  her  of  half 
dread  to  going  back  to  the  shop.  Already  she  dreaded 
her  aunts  voice;  the  noisy,  greasy  tea  table,  where  only 
Philip  made  things  endurable  for  her:  so  that  when,  as 
they  left  the  last  store,  loading  the  carriage  with  parcels, 
and  Miss  Phyllis  said,  "I'm  going  to  keep  you  for  the 
night,  Nan, "my  little  heroine  felt  more  than  ever  grate- 
ful and  happy. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Mi;s.  GRANGE  received  Nan  very  cordially  when  she 
made  her  appearance  with  Miss  Rolf.  The  gentle  little 
lady  was  quite  a  revelation  to  Nan.  whose  ideas  of  elderly 
people  were  formed  entirely  on  the  noisy,  overworked 
matrons  she  had  seen  at  Mrs.  Rupert's.  Nan  was  only 
allowed  a  few  words  with  her  hostess,  and  then  Miss 
Rolf  carried  her  off  to  the  little  sitting-room  upstairs, 
where,  when  she  had  laid  aside  her  hat  and  jacket,  Miss 
Rolf  told  her  she  had  better  write  Mrs.  Rupert  a  note  to 
explain  her  absence. 

"  And  I  want  you  to  word  it  very  carefully.  Nan,"  said 
Phyllis,  coming  up  to  the  little  girl  with  a  very  serious  ex- 
pression. "You  know  things  are  changed  with  you  now, 
and  you  must  begin  at  once  to  let  your  aunt  and  her  fam- 
ily understand  that  you  are  not — they  can  not  expect  you 
— to  treat  them  quite  as  equals."' 

Nan  was  still  full  of  the  excitement  and  delight  of 
her  good  fortune;  yet  as  Phyllis  spoke,  looking  down 
gravely  upon  her,  there  came  a  blush  of  mortification  into 
the  child's  honest  face.  A  tinge  of  the  same  color  deep- 
ened in  Phyllis's  soft  cheeks  for  just  half  a  moment,  but 
she  said,  very  decidedly: 

"  Now,  Nan.  you  are  not  going  to  be  a  foolish,  obstinate 
child,  I  hope?  Surely  you  must  know  that  I  and  your 
aunt  Letitia  understand  these  things  better  than  a  little 
V.h-1  brought  up  among  vulgar  people  could.  Now  there 
must  be  no  nonsense,  my  dear." 

Phyllis's  tone  was  kind,  but  something  in  it  made  Nan 
see  that  she  expected  obedience;  and  was  she  not  in  every 
way  the  most  wonderful  and  beautiful  creature  Nan  had 
ever  seen  i  Nan's  doubts  vanished  while  Phyllis  laid  out 
note  paper  and  pen  and  ink  on  a  dainty  little  table  drawn 
up  to  one  of  the  windows;  and  when  Nan  placed  herself 
there  to  write,  her  cousin  sat  down  by  the  fire,  with  her 
slippered  toes  on  the  fender,  and  her  pretty  hands,  spark- 
ling with  rings,  folded  gracefully  in  her  lap. 

"Now,  Nan."  she  said,  "begin  your  letter.  Date  it 
'The  Willows' — that  is  the  name  of  this  place.  'March 
8.  Dear  Mrs.  Rupert.'" 

Nan  smiled  quickly. 

"Why,  Miss  Cousin  Phyllis,"  she  said,  looking  up 
from  the  paper,  "she  would  think  me  crazy:  she  is  Aunt 
Rebecca,  you  know." 

Miss  Rolf's  delicate  eyebrows  drew  together  in  a  little 
frown.  She  waited  a  moment,  and  then,  with  an  im- 
patient sigh,  said, 

"Very  well,  let  it  go — 'Dear  Aunt  Rebecca.'" 

Nan's  pen  scratched  on.  with  many  splutterings,  for  pen- 
manship was  her  weak  point,  and  had  not  been  considered 
a  very  necessary  accomplishment  in  the  Rupert  household. 
She  looked  up  presently  for  further  instructions. 

"  My  cousin.  Miss  Rolf,"  dictated  that  young  lady,  "has 
decided  that  [  had  better  remain  with  her  until  I  go  to 
lieverle ,  ."  ("Oh!"  ejaculated  Nan.)  "My  aunt.  Miss 
Rolf,  has  invited  me  to  make  her  a  long  visit,  and  as,  pre- 
vious to  my  going,  there  are  many  things  to  be  attended 
to  in  my  wardrobe,  etc.,  my  cousin  Phyllis  thinks  it  best 
to  keep  me  with  her.  I  shall,  of  course,  see  you  all  before 
I  leave." 

Nan's  pen  finally  came  to  a  stop. 

"That  is  all,"  said  Phyllis,  placidly. 

"Then  I'll  just  send  my  love,  I  suppose,"  said  Nan. 

After  a  little  pause  Phyllis  said,  "Yes."  and  Nan  went 
to  work  again.  When  she  brought  the  letter  to  her  cousin 
for  inspection,  this  is  how  it  was  concluded: 

"  I  hope  you  are  all  well,  and  that  you'll  tell  Mary  Sey- 
mour, when  you  see  her,  that  I'll  go  there  before  I  leave, 
and  I'll  write  to  Tommy;  and  tell  Marian,  please,  I'll  give 
her  and  Philip  all  the  pea-nuts  that  are  in  my  drawer, 
and  I'll  write  them  everything  that  happens  at  Beverley. 
I  hope  uncle's  jaw  is  better.  Your  loving  niece,  Nan." 


28 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Vul.l-.ME  IV. 


Phyllis  Eolf  read  the  letter  with  so  quiet  an  air  that  for 
a  moment  Nan  felt  much  relieved,  feeling  sure  it  was  all 
right;  but  the  first  words  startled  her. 

"That  would  not  do,  my  dear,  at  all,"  Phyllis  said, 
coldly.  "You  can  not  go  to  see  this  Tommy  Seymour, 
and  you  had  better  understand  at  once  that  your  aunt 
will  'not  like  you  to  write  everything  to  your  cousins 
here.  Now,  Nan,  do  you  see  what  I  mean  ?" 

Nan  began  to  see  a  little  more  clearly,  yet  her  mind 
was  not  yet  made  up;  still,  enough  of  Phyllis's  meaning 
reached  her  to  bring  two  large  tears  to  her  eyes.  They 
rolled  down  her  cheeks,  while  she  looked  silently  at  Phyl- 
lis and  her  letter. 


NAN    PRESENTED    TO    MISS    PHYLLIS    FOR   APPROV 


"  Don't  be  silly,  niy  dear,"  said  the  young  lady,  standing 
up  and  smiling  good-naturedly.  "There,  finish  your  let- 
ter with  just  your  love;  that  will  be  the  best  way." 

And  so  Nan  went  back  to  the  little  table,  brushing  away 
those  first  tears,  and  quietly  obeyed  her  cousin.  Miss  Rolf 
took  the  letter  from  her  as  soon  as  it  was  finished,  and  went 
out  of  the  room,  while  Nan.  sat  still,  wondering  if  Beverley 
would  be  quite  all  she  hoped  for. 

Enough  excitement  remained  to  make  it  easy  for  Phyl- 
lis to  control  her  as  she  wished,  and  that  young  lady  trust- 
ed to  time  and  absence  working  wonders.  While  Nan 
was  sitting  absorbed  in  her  thoughts,  the  door  opened, 
and  Lance  Rolf  came  suddenly  into  the  room.  He  was  a 
tall  boy,  with  a  spare,  handsome  face,  delicate  as  Phyllis's 
in  feature,  but  olive-tinted,  and  with  more  sweetness  in 
tin-  brown  eyes  and  the  lines  of  the  mouth.  He  came  up 
to  Nan,  holding  out  his  hand  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"  And  are  you  Nan  '<"  he  said,  looking  at  her  earnestly. 


"  Yes,"  was  Nan's  timid  answer. 

"Well,"  said  the  boy,  cheerfully.  "  we  are  cousins.  My 
name  is  Lancelot  Rolf.  I  hope  we'll  be  very  well  ac- 
quainted. So  you  are  going  to  Beverley." 

"Yes,"  was  all  Nan  could  contrive  to  say  again.  She 
longed  to  ask  a  dozen  questions  of  the  bright,  cheerfnl- 
looking  hoy,  who,  although  no  older  than  Philip,  looked 
so  very  much  like  a  lilt  !<•  gentleman. 

"Shall  you  like  to  go  '?"  Lance  said,  presently. 
Nan  really  felt  she  couldn't  go  on  saying  "yes"  to  ev- 
erything, and  so  with  a  great  effort  she  said : 

"  I  want  to  go  very  much.  Is  it — is  it  nice  then1  '." 
"It's  a  jolly  old  house  where  you  are  going,"  said 
Lance,  "but  I  don't  know  whether  you'll 
enjoy  it  much,  it's  so  slow,  so  stupid. 
Still,  perhaps  you're  not  accustomed  to 
much  fun."  Lance  could  hardly  imagine 
the  cheese-monger's  family  as  very  enter- 
taining. 

"Oh  yes,  we  have  a  great  deal  of  fun 
sometimes,"  said  Nan,  gaining' confidence. 
"In  winter  we  coast  and  skate,  and  in 
summer  -  there  are  always  picnics,  am! 
sometimes  a  circus." 

"But  at  home — wasn't  there  ever  any 
fun  at  home  .'" 

Nan  could  not  remember  anything 
wlrich  impressed  her  as  particularly  en- 
joyable in-doors. 

"No,"  she  said,  slowly,  "I  don't  think 
there  was.  Marian* always  liked  to  tend 
I  he  shop,  but  I  never  cared  so  much  for 
that.  I  didn't  like  the  smell  of  the 
cheeses,  don't  you  know." 

"It  was  a  cheese  shop  ?"  Lance  look- 
ed very  much  interested. 

"Cheese  and  butter,  and  eggs  and 
hams."  Nan  recited  the  list  glibly. 

"Well,"  said  Lancelot,  very  gravely, 
"there  won't  be  anything  like  that  at 
Beverley:  and  see  here.  Nan,  I'll  just  give 
you  a  friendly  hint.  I  don't  think  I'd 
talk  much  about  the  shop  before  Cousin 
Letitia.  You  see,  she  might  not  like  it— 
don't  be  (i.-iluniifcl  of  it,"  added  the  boy, 
flushing  a  little;  "  I  don't  mean  you  to  be 
iiii'itn  about  it,  only  you  won't  need  to 
talk  of  it." 

Nan  felt  that  she  had  begun  to  put  her 
old  life  behind  her  when  she  was  arrayed 
in  the  brown  cashmere,  and  now  little  by 
little  she  was  learning  to  feel  as  the  peo- 
ple around  her  felt;  that,  after  all,  she 
would  be  expected  to  act  and  appear  and 
think  very  differently  about  everything 
as  soon  as  she  was  in  Beverley. 

"What  do  you-  do  .'"  said  Nan,  looking  brightly  at  her 
new  acquaintance.      "  Do  you  live  at  Beverley  ?" 
Lance  nodded. 

"When  I'm  home,"  he  said.  "  I  come  to  school  near 
here,  at  Barnabas  Academy.  When  I'm  home  I  live  quite 
near  to  where  you're  going  to  be.  Oh,  I  do  lots  of  tilings ! 
Boys  are  so  different  from  girls.  I'm  captain  of  our  1m  -e 
ball  club,  for  one  thing,  and  we  are  jolly  good  cricketers 
too,  I  tell  yon.  At  home  I  do  all  sorts  of  things.  Phyl- 
lis and  I  are  great  chums:  Phyllis  is  a  regular  brick." 
He  might  have  said  more,  but  at  this  moment  Phyllis  re- 
appeared. Nan  looked  at  her  a  little  anxiously.  She 
wondered  if  she  was  going  to  feel  offended  with  her  about 
the  note;  but  the  young  lady  was  perfectly  cheerful,  and 
even  kissed  Nan  when  she  said,  "  Now,  dear,  we  will  go 
down  to  supper.  Mrs.  Grange  is  waiting." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


NOVEMBER  II.  1882. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


29 


LITTLE  MASTER  QUIC. 

BY  MARY  A.  KAIJI;. 

THIS  tale's  of  little  Master  <.t>uig, 
\Yli;>.  being  little,  wasn't  big, 
And  many  said,  who  understood. 
That,  being  bad.  he  \vasii't   good. 
"When  from  his  school  he  ran  away. 
Mi.-,!    people  thought  he  didn't  stay; 
And  I  have  heard,  from  ilio.-e  who  know, 
When  he  ran  fast,  it  wasn't  slow. 
He  always  studied  when  compelled. 
And  always  staid  when  he  was  held. 
And  always  slept  when  not,  awake. 
And  left  the  thing-  he  could  not  take. 
To  go  to  sea  one  day  he  planned, 
And  being1  there,  was  not  011  land, 
And  so  stuck  on  a  bar — alas ! 
For,  being  stuck,  he  could  not  pass. 
The  dark  night  found  him  in  a  frig-lit. 
For,  being  dark,  it  was  not  light. 
The  big  waves  rose  and  111  led  the  boat. 
And  being  full,  it  could  not  tloat. 
And   so.  as   1    have   beard    il    said. 
They  found  him  in  the  morning  dead. 
And  men  of  sense  do  still   maintain 
lie  never  more  was  seen   again. 


The  cow  jumped  over  the  moon ; 


ImmM 


The  little  dog  laughed  to  see  such  sport; 


-i  J:\Jm. 


And  the  dish  ran  away  with  the  spoon 


The  cat  and  the  fiddle; 


so 


IIATCPEP/S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

WvTIIKVILIE,  VinnlMA. 

We  are  three  little  girls  who  have  often  rend 
and  enjoyed  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  verv  much 
We  meet  successively  nt  each  otlier's  home  ev- 
ery Friday  evening,  and  read  the  stories  in  it 
We  live  in  a  beautiful  town  in  the  mountains  of 
Southwest  Virginia.  We  three  go  to  the  same 
school,  and  like  our  teachers  verv  much.  Our 
parents  take  all  your  papers— the  MONTHLY  BA- 
ZAU,  and  WEEKLY— and  we  take  Yorxu  PEOPLE. 
We  look  forward  to  Wednesday  with  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure,  for  \ve  know  it  is  the  day  our  paper 
comes.  We  are  so  glad  to  see  Mrs.  John  Lillie  is 
going  to  write  a  new  story,  and  we  are  sure  it 
will  be  very  interesting,  as  all  her  others  are 
Please  print  this,  as  we  would  like  to  surprise 
our  mamnms. 

ELUE  C.,  HELEN  S.  S.,  and  SUSIE  W. 

Well,  Ellie,  Susie,  and  Helen,  though  I  do  not 
know  which  of  you  lias  brown  eyes  and  which 
blue,  which  is  the  tall  slender  girl,  which  the 
merry-faced  one  with  the  dancing  dimples,  and 
which  the  plump  little  maiden  who  always  thinks 
before  she  speaks,  I  send  my  love  to  each  of 
you,  an-1  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  pleasant  Fri- 
day evenings.  You  and  the  thousands  of  other 
girls  for  whom  Mrs.  Lillie  has  written  her  charm- 
ing story  have  a  real  treat  before  you  in  reading 
it.  I  sometimes  wish  myself  a  girl  again  just  to 
feel  for  an  hour  the  delight  I  used  to  when  be- 
ginning a  beautiful  new  story.  The  girls  who 
form  Mrs.  Lillie's  audience  have  better  times  in 
the  story  way  than  girls  did  when  your  mammas 
and  myself  were  at  your  age.  But  I,  for  one, 
still  dearly  love  a  bright  sketch  or  a  beautiful 
serial  ;  and  if  I  were  near  you.  !  might  sometimes 
glide  ITI  and  take  an  easy-chair  in  the  corner  on 
your  reading  evenings— that  is.  if  you  would  let 
me  in,  on  my  promising  to  be  very  good  indeed. 


Some  of  you  who  have  empty  cologne  or  scent 
bottles  may  make  very  pretty  presents  for  your 
friends  by  covering  them  with  silk  or  plush,  and 
finishing  off  with  a  dainty  lace  ruffle  and  a  nar- 
row ribbon  around  the  neck.  A  beautiful  tidy 
which  I  saw  the  other  day  was  en 'dieted  in 
heavy  cord,  and  looped  over  crimson  silk.  Very 
lovely  plaques  are  made  of  the  birch  hark  plates 
on  which  butter  is  sent  home  by  the  grocer. 
They  must  be  covered  very  neatly  with  silk  or 
satin,  on  which  a  design  is  worked  or  painted. 
The  pretty  little  Japanese  umbrellas,  which  cost 
but  a  few  cents,  may  be  inverted,  opened,  and 
caught  at  each  point  with  a  ribbon.  Suspended 
from  a  nail,  they  make  dainty  little  scrap-bags. 

The  letter  which  follows  contains  a  suggestion 
•which  the  Postmistress  thinks  excellent.  She 
will  keep  a  corner  in  the  Post-office  Box  for  all 
such  letters  as  our  correspondent  invites : 

BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— I  remember,  when  I  was 
eight  or  ten  years  younger  than  I  am  now  how 
hard  it  used  to  be  for  me  to  find  anything  new 
to  make  for  Christmas  for  all  the  aunts  and  cons 
ins.  ami  now.  as  Christmas  is  drawing  near,  my 
younger  sister  comes  to  me  and  says  :  "  can  not, 
you  think  of  something  for  Christmas?  I  want 
something  for  Aunt  Mary  mid  Aunt  Lizzie,  some- 
thing I  have  not  made  for  them  before."  I  have 
no  doubt  that  many  other  little  people  say  tin- 
same  thing.  Now,  I  have  a  plan  to  propose  to 


you.  and  if  you  think  it  a  good  one,  will  you 
mention  it  in  the  Post-office  Box?  Let  each  little 
girl— and  boy  too,  if  he  wishes— write  ami  de- 
scribe something  that  he  or  she  makes  for  Christ  - 
inas.  and  then  if  you  will  lie  so  got  id  as  to  pub- 
lish the  letters  I  think  before  Christinas  we  may 
have  quite  a  variety  ot  ideas.  Of  course  each  ar- 
ticle mentioned  would  not  be  new  to  all,  but  it 
would  be  new  to  some,  and  I  think  many  little 
girls  would  be  -really  aided.  Now  what  do  you 
think?  ONE  OF  YOUR  OLDER  READER'S. 


BABY'S  DAY. 
Awake  at  five  in  the  morning, 

Bright  as  a  little  bird, 
Cooing  and  laughing  and  crowing 

Before  a  person  lias  stirred. 

Carried  on  papa's  shoulder, 

Lying  on  mamma's  arm. 
Never  a  kinir  was  bolder 

Or  safer  from  slightest  harm. 

Going  to  ride  with  sister, 

Taking  a  cozy  nap. 
nesting  before  his  dinner 

On  grandmamma's  silken  lap. 

Creeping  over  the  carpet. 

Playing  with  pretty  toys; 
Baby's  the  dearest  dnrling. 

The  prettiest,  best  of  boys. 

SI-SIE  PATTON. 


01  FAN.  NKW  YORK. 

I  think  that  Franlde  would  be  a  pretty  name 
for  Marion  W.'s  baby  brother.  I  have  nine  dolls 
Their  names  are  Mollie.  Lottie.  Edith.  Eva  Lena 
( 1i ristii, a.  Carrie.  Johnnie,  an. I  Bertie.  I  like  your 
stories  all  verv  much,  especially  "Toby  Tyler" 
"Mr.  stubbs's  Brother."and"  Their  Girl."  I  send 
my  love  to  the  Postmistress. 

LENA  MATTHEWS. 

MADI    ,-.,  Xnw  .IFIISFV. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.  My  brother 
Louie  takes  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  has  every  num- 
ber. Baby  Roe  and  1  iove  to  have'  mamma  read 
it  to  us.  Roe  and  I  have  bad  colds,  so  I  could 
IH>!  go  to  school,  but  Louie  could.  I  learned  to 
print  in  school.  This  is  my  first  letter.  I  hope 
you  will  print  it.  HOWARD  B.  G. 

Y'our  little  note  was  printed  so  nicely  that  it 
was  as  plain  as  though  the  letters  had  been  form- 
ed by  the  type-writing  machine.  After  all.  tin  re 
is  no  machine  of  which  I  ever  heard  so  wonder- 
ful as  the  four  little  fingers  and  thumb  of  a  boy's 
land.  Ask  papa  and  mamma  if  they  don't  agree 
with  me. 


SALEM,  NORTH  CAKOLIN... 

I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the  first  iinin- 
5er.  and  I  like  it  very  much.  I  have  written  one 
etterto  the  Post -office  Hox.but  I  thought  I  would 
write  again.  My  friend  Howard  R.  has  written 
:oo.  We  two  have  formed  a  printing  firm  under 
the  name  of  P.  &  R.  We  made  four  dollars  clear 
profit,  with  which  we  bought  eaeli  a  pair  of  roller 
skates.  We  have  over  three  dollars  in  our  bank 
now.  Some  of  my  playmates  and  I  have  formed 
a  club  under  the  name  of  Holiday  Club,  and  some 
of  my  boy  friends  and  I  have  formed  a  military 
company  by  the  name  of  Home  Guards.  We  pa- 
rade in  the  academy  play-grounds.  The  other 
day  we  fought  almost  all  the  battles  of  the  Revo- 
lution. A.  H.  P. 

All  the  battles  of  the  Revolution  in  oneday  !  I 
wonder  you  slept  a  wink  the  night  after  such 
tremendous  exertion.  But  boys  are  made  of 
steel  -prings  and  India  rubber,  and  can  stand  a 
good  deal  of  pounding.  Please  send  me  word 
about  the  various  doings  of  your  holiday  club, 
and  don't  let  the  fun  interfere  with  your  studies, 
or  else  the  preceptors  and  professors  may  veto 
your  good  times.  I  am  glad  you  are  so  success- 
ful as  amateur  printers. 


NBW  YORK  CITV. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  have  a  cat 
and  a  kitten.  The  cat's  name  is  Gypsy  but  I 
have  not  named  the  kitten  yet.  I  take  HARPER'S 
YODUB  PEOPLE, and  1  like  it,  very  much.  The  oth- 
er day  the  kitten  fell  from  a  chair  and  hurt  its 
leg,  but  it  is  well  now.  Crro  S 


Dear  little  Robin  D..  who  often  sends  answers 
to  puzzles,  was  not  well,  and  so  mamma  became 
her  anianncn^N.  sent  her  answers  and  her  new 
puzzles,  which  will  see  the  light  before  long,  and 
this  pleasant  little  message  to  the  Postmistress 
and  to  Marion  \v. 

I  hope  Robin  is  quite  well  by  this  time. 

Robin  says:  "Mamma,  tell  the  Postmistress 
tnat  my  little  pet  bird  Jimmie  died,  and  wasn't 
it.  too  had.  but  that  now  I  have  a  beautiful  white 
dove  and  a  dear  little  bird  whose  name  is  Mon- 
tie.  but  I  still  mourn  for  Jimmie.  whose  ca"c  wis 
draped  in  mourning  for  a  whole  week  We  bur- 
ied him  in  our  yard." 


Robin  thinks  that  Edgar  is  a  very  pretty  name 
for  a  boy,  or  Irving,  she  does  no't  really  know 
which  to  choose  for  little  Marion  W  'sileiir  baby 
brother,  she  says,  "  If  one  little  girl  may  put  in 
more  than  one  name  tor  Marion  to  choose  from 
put  both  Irving  and  Edgar  in  from  Robin  U." 

I  am  very  sorry  little  Jimmie  died.  When  Ma- 
rion chooses  a  name,  she  must  not  forget  to  send 
us  all  word  what  it  is.  as  we  feel  quite  an  inter- 
est, don't  we,  children  ? 


BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  want  to  ask  you  to  tell  me  a  prelty  name  for 
n  little  kitty,  because  Id.m't  know  any  nice  ones 
Now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  where  1  went  last 
summer.  I  went  to  Falmouth.  which  is  very  near 
the  sea-side,  and  is  a  very  pleasant  place.  I  went 
in  bathing  only  twice  while  I  was  there  but 
went  in  wading  nearly  every  day.  I  went  in  a 
sail-boat  once, and  had  a  very  nice  sail, and  then 
I  went  down  the  beach  a  little  way  to  catch 
minnows,  but  couldn't.  Good-by.  ALICE  S. 

Muff  is  a  nice  name  for  a  kitty. 

Let  me  tell  you  about  a  kitty  which  a  little  boy 
friend  of  mine  had  for  his  pet.  It  was  a  black 
kitty.  I  believe,  though  I  am  not  sure.  He  car- 
ried it  everywhere  with  him,  and  when  he  was 
practicing  one  afternoon,  he  set  it  on  the  piano 
that  it  might  hear  him  play.  It  nestled  its  head 
cunningly  on  its  tiny  paws,  and  listened  with  all 
its  might. 

Somebody  called  the  little  boy  away  for  a  mo- 
ment. When  he  came  back  the  kitty  was  gone. 

High  and  low  they  hunted  for  it.  Mamma, 
nurse,  t we,  little  sisters,  and  even  the  baby. called 
Kitty!  Kitty:  but  no  kitty  answered.  After  a 
long  time  there  came  a  faint  little  mieuw  on  the 
air:  and  where  do  you  suppose  they  found  that 
small  cat?  Why,  in  the  piano,  where  she  had 
taken  a  cozy  nap. 


\ASHVII.LK,  TEN-NESSES. 


Most  boys  and  girls  tell  about  their  pets.  I 
have  none,  except  my  little  brothtr.  two  years 
and  a  half  old.  I  have  two  sistt  rs  and  this  s'weet 
little  brother.  We  moved  from  Louisville.  Ken- 
tucky, to  Nashville  about  a  month  ago.  and  I  am 
very  homesick  to  go  back  again.  We  spent  the 
summer  at  Bon  Aqua  springs,  not  far  from  here 
ami  had  a  nice  time.  I  have  a  doll,  and  her  name 
Eva  Wallace ;  she  will  be  four  years  old  on 


Yorx<i  PEOPLE  from  the  beginning,  and  think  it 
is  the  best  of  papers.  Mamma  takes  the  BAZAR 
and  MAGAZINE.  My  papa  is  away  most  of  the 
time,  and  we  are  always  glad  when  he  comes 
home.  I  go  to  school,  and  am  in  the  Fifth  Grade 
I  study  reading,  spelling,  arithmetic,  geography 
writing,  and  drawing.  I  am  eleven  years  old.  ' 


. 

BESSIE  W. 


SOUTH  BEMI,  INDIANA. 

I  like  Y'ot'NG  PEOPLE  very  much.  I  am  a  little 
girl  eight  years  old,  and  live  on  a  farm  five  miles 
from  the  city.  I  go  to  school  now,  but  mamma 
will  teach  me  at  home  this  winter.  I  have  two 


much,  because  I  have  no  one  to  play  with  me 
Papa  has  a  nice  Irish  setter  dog  to  hunt  with-  his 
name  is  Paul.  I  will  write  again  as  soon  as  I  can 
write  better.  GEORGIANA  I). 


DRIFTON,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  have  lately  returned  from  Europe,  and  I  en- 
joyed the  pile  of  Magazines  I  found  here.  I 
brought  home  a  gondola  from  Venice,  and  I  also 
brought  a  curious  swan  which  I  saw  them  make 
at  the  glass-works.  I  had  a  splendid  time  in  dear 
old  London.  We  saw  the  (Jueen  and  the  Prin- 
cess of  Wales.  \\'e  saw  the  wine-vaults  We 
crossed  the  Alps  in  four-horse  carriages,  and  I 
made  snow-balls  in  June.  YOUNG  PEOI-I  K  is  the 
best  paper  out,  OCKLEY  B.  C. 

Y'ou  have  many  delightful  things  to  remember 
about  your  trip  abroad.  I  hope  you  kept  a  jour- 
nal. 


NORWALK,  CONNECTICUT. 

I  am  eleven  years  old,  and  live  in  Norwalk  in 
the  summer,  and  in  New  York  city  in  the  winter 
I  have  no  brothers  nor  sisters,  except  two  who 
are  grown  up.  and  I  have  a  brother  at  college 
We  are  going  to  New  York  on  the  first  of  next 
month.  I  enjoy  HARPER'S  Yorxu  PEOPLE  very 
much,  and  look  forward  to  its  coming  with  great 
pleasure.  As  you  wanted  to  hear  from  any  girl 
or  boy  who  had  a  garden.  I  thought  I  would  tell 
you  about  mine.  I  planted  in  my  garden  this 
Bummer  potatoes,  onions,  tomatoes  strawber- 
ries,  and  celery,  besides  flowers.  I  had  enough 
potatoes  for  the  whole  family  fordinner,  so  I  bad 
them  on  the  table  that  day,  and  I  hope  to  have 


NOVEMBER  14,  188-2. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


31 


my  celery  to-morrow.  The  cook  made  me  some 
caramels  from  tin-  receipt  you  put  in  HARPER'S 
Yoi-s-ci  PEOPLE,  but  it  wouldn't  harden.  MI  she 
made  a  chocolate  cake,  and  I  had  it  on  the  table 
on, •  evening.  As  1  have  no  more  to  tell  about  I 
think  I  will  close.  HARRY  C.  41. 

You  were  a  famous  little  gardener,  and  deserve 
great  praise. 


I  am  a  little  girl  nearly  eleven  years  old.  I  will 
tell  you  about  my  summer  trip.  I  can  not  tell 
all  the  places  we  went  to.  lull  mie  plaee  was  the 
White  Mouiitainsof  New  Hampshire.  There  are 
very  tine  views,  especially  from  I  he  top  of  Mount 
Washington.  Yon  would  laugh  to  see  the  ftinny 
little  cars  that  go  up  and  down.  It  is  very  steep, 
and  as  you  go  up  you  see  nothing  but"  rocks. 
Mamma  thought  it  was  frightful,  but  I  did  not. 
Well,  good-by.  ANNIE  H.  S. 

I  might,  have  laughed  when  I  was  eleven  years 
old.  ill  ,-ir.  hut  I  never  gn  up  a  steep  mountain 
nowadays  without  feeling,  like  your  mamma. 
that  there  is  danger  as  well  as  pleasure  about 
the  ascent.  I  am  glad  you  have  been  to  the  top 
of  Mount  Washington,  and  have  looked  from 
there  over  the  great  mountains  and  deep  valleys 
of  New  England. 

MiiTi".1.  ONTARIO.  r*\Arn. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  and  live  in  a 
small  town  thirty  miles  from  Toronto  \\ v  an- 
always  very  glad'when  your  paper  comes.  I  love 
to  lead  the  letters  in  tin-  Cost  office  Hox.  I  like 
"The  Cruise  of  the  Canoe  <  lull."  My  father  and 
four  of  my  um-les  are  in  Montana,  and  my  aunt 
ami  her  children  an-  going  out  tin -re  next  week 

M      •!<•  and    his    youngest    brolh'T    belong   fo 

:i  surveying  party,  and  have  been  surveying  in 
the  Uocky  Mountains  and  Yellow  stone  Park  all 
MI  miner,  and  write  home  delightfully  interesting 
descriptions  "f  Ihe  wonders  to  be  seen  there- 
about the  geysers  and  glass  mountains,  also  soda 

l intain-,  and  canons.     The  i;  rain  I  I 'anon  is  the 

de. 'pest  of  all  :  it  is  several  thousand  feet  il,  i  p, 
and  a!  the  bottom  is  a  rushing,  roaring  river. 
<  i nr  of  my  niieles  descended  into  it.  It  is  so  deep 
that  if  yon  go  down  into  it  and  look  upward,  y.ui 
can  see  the  stars  al  three  o'clock  in  the  alii  r 
no.  in  Ttie  gev  sers  spout  up  water  to  a  tremen- 
dous height  uric  oi  them  I  think  it  i-  called 
Ihi  i:\eelsior-  throws  water  in  which  are  pii  ces 

of  rock  to  il  height  of  till hundred  feel       I  Mien 

the  eruptions  are  preceded  by  rumblings  and 
shakings  like  an  earthquake.  Once  when  the 
party  were  near  one  of  the  geys, T  basins,  sud- 
denly the  earth  began  to  i|iiake,  and  Ihe  watl  i  in 
(he  basin  spoilt eil  ever  s,,  high,  and  the  -kv  was 

tilled  with  water  and  pieces  of  rook,  and  they  had 

to  run  to  get  out  of  the  way.  Perhaps  we  will 
Kit  to  Montana  if  father  stays  there:  and  if  we 
do,  mother  says  that  we  may  take  an  occasional 
trip  to  the  I'ark.  and  then  j  will  write  and  tell 
you  of  some  of  the  things  we  see  there. 

lti:t  <  A  K. 

The  cunning  little  letter  \vhich  follows  was  sent 
by  a  little  girl  five  and  one-half  years  old  to  her 
young  lady  sisters  away  from  home.  This  little 
girl  lives  near  a  railroad,  and  every  day  she  and 
her  brother  watch  for  their  conductors,  a*  they 
call  them,  a  ml  wave  to  them  as  the  ears  rush  past 
the  door.  Ity  tin '"tassels  vv  ilh  I  he  board  on"  lit- 
tle Amy  meant  a  lambrequin  which  belonged  on 
the  mantel.  Jumbo  is  a  huge  toy  elephant  gi -eat  - 
ly  admired  by  the  little  folks  in  Amy's  nursery  : 

TKMM.V,  \  K  «•   .lki:sm. 

DEAR  LOUISE  AND  M  via;n:,  -It  will  soon  be 
Roy's  birthday.  If  you  don't  come  home  quick, 
you  won't  be  here  before  ii  comes  i;,,j  creeps. 

He  call  walk  with  onr  taking  hold  of  him.  lie 
can  stand  up  hythe  hath  tub  May  s  don't  know 
some  of  the  words  of  her  music  lesson.  1  say  my 
lessons  every  day  at  home,  and  then  I  say  them 
in  school.  1  did  not  get  a  bad  mark  today; 
.sometimes  I  do.  I  get  apples  in  B.'s  yard— they 
don't  care — and  take  them  to  school  over  recess, 
and  then  I  take  them  home.  Mamma  has  to  sew 
so  hard,  and  we  bother  her.  and  she  sends  us  out- 
doors. When  it  rains  she  don't  ;  then  we  stay  in 
the  house,  and  play  with  our  toys.  Sarah's  back, 
and  we're  glad,  and  she  irons  every  Tuesday.  We 
take  walks  with  her  sometimes.  Mary 'a  here  too, 
and  sometimes  she  goes  out.  with  her  husband. 
I  like  him,  and  he  gives  me  pennies.  I  would  like 
to  be  over  there  and  see  your  big  dog  Frank. 
Some  Sunday  afternoons  papa's  tired,  anil  he 
don't  want  to  go  riding.  We  did  go  last  sun- 
day.  Last  Sunday  we  took  Roy.  Marian  plavs 
with  Roy  every  day,  and  mamma  says  Slop' 
•when  she  hurts  him.  Clifford  has  to  get  his  teeth 
fixed,  and  we  can't  go  to  P.  until  next  Monday. 
Every  day  papa  goes  out  to  see  the  men  fixing 
the  trestle-work,  on  Hoy's  birthday  we're  going 
to  have  a  little  party  :  no  one  is  coming,  only  us. 
Mamma  has  to  send  out  when  she  wants  papa— 
away  out  to  the  trestle-work.  Mamma  writes 
this  letter,  and  I  find  the  words.  Marian  has  got 
lots  of  things  in  the  corner  by  the  bookcase  again. 
Clifford's  got  lots  of  cars  now.  and  he  plays  with 
them  'most  every  day.  II  ''s  got  a  new  tin  train 
of  cars  from  the  Fair.  We're  getting  our  stoves 


fixed  There's  fire  in  the  sitting-room.  You 
tassels  with  the  board  on  is  up  in  the  front  pal 
lor.  We've  got  a  Jumbo  from  the  Fair.  W 
take  Jumbo  out  to  see  our  'ductors  Mine  i 
away,  and  ain'l  home  yet.  Koy  goes  annul 
picking  up  everv  thing,  and  gets  things  out  o 
mamma's  basket,  and  dumped  it  over  twice  If 
near  winter,  and  we've  got  the  sleds  down. 

A  kiss  tor  Maggie,  and  a  kiss  for  Louise.    LOT 
tor  .Maggie,  and  love  for  Louise.  AMY  D 


FaEMONT,  X 

DEAR  "  RAPPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE."— My  hrothe 
Paul  takes  HAKCI  i:  s  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  thinl 
it  is  a  very  nice  paper.  1  was  eight  years  old  th 
ah  of  .September.  I  have  a  sister  who  is  f.ui 
years  old.  And  we  have  a  horse  named  Dick 
he  is  gentle  and  a  very  nice  horse,  and  will  ea 
apples  a,  well  as  any  boy  can.  He  will  shakt 
hands  with  either  leg.  I  go  to  school,  and  I  am 
already  in  the  Third  Header.  Myteacher's  name 
is  Miss  s.  Ami  we  have  got  a  calf  called  l;.,sy 
ami  she  is  .a  \ery  gentle  and  nice  calf,  and  we 
have  a  pretty  wild  cow 


BURNIE   C. 


SAX  FRANCISCO,  CALIFORNL... 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.    This  is  my 
first  letter.     I  like  the  story  of  "The  Cruise  of  the 

1  •" Club"and"Mr.Stubbs's  Unit  her."    I  eon, 

rrjenced  going  to  scl I   in    March.  Issl.  and  an 

now  in  the  Seventh  Grade.     I  was  honorahlv  pro 

I'd  la -l  .In  in       |  am  trying  very  hard  to  be  tin 

same  this  term.  I  g..  to  . \lameifa  nearly  ever) 
Saturday  with  my  papn  to  take  a  salt-water  bath 
I  can  swim  a  lillle.  I  |jv-e  in  the  city,  and  can  not 
have  as  much  fun  as  the  little  ho\'s  in  the  conn 
try;  but  1  shall  go  to  the  country  next  vacation 

ALLEN  <;.  W. 

A  boy  who  Hies  hard  is  sure  to  succeed.  Whei 
next  you  are  promoted  write  again,  as  I  liketi 
keep  an  account  of  my  boys  when  they  do  well. 
1  am  glad  you  can  swim. 


FRANK  AND  JOE. -The  twenty  numbers  of 
H.MtPEK's  V,,i  M.  pi  ni'Li;  containing  the  story  of 

"TODJ     T)ler"     Will     eosl     you     eight)     eelils     "|iy 

sending  -si  i.,  Messrs  HARPER*  BROTHERS  yoii 
may  obtain  Tabu  /V-rin  a  beautiful  bound  iol 
ume.  handsonn  ly  illustrated 

S  ;  '  "> '  -  Daisy,  MUI  are  right  in  your  sup- 
position that  pi-.,  ph-  in  very  old  times  were  alarm- 
ed il  any  one  spilled  salt  on  the  table  at  a  meal. 
II  wa-  fancied  that  the  unlucky  accident  was  the 
sign  ol  a  quarrel  between  two  of  the  company. 
However.  I  allach  no  importaiiec  to  sneh  signs, 
even  w  hen  they  arc  ancient,  and  if  you  ,-a me  to 
dine  with  me.  and  the  salt-cellar  happened  to  be 
upset.  I  would  in  a  trouble  for  our  iricn.lship. 

Vmong  the    \rabs   salt    i-   regarded  as  sacred. 

and  If  you  happen  to  be  the  guest  of  a  Bedouin, 

who  meeting  von  in  the  desert  would  roll  you 
and  be  glad  "I  the  ehatiee.  von  are  perfectly  safe 
if  you  share  his  bread  and  salt  ;  he  will  protect 
you  against  all  enemies.  You  see.  that  -all  among 

these  wild    people    is   the   emblem    of   hospitality. 

The  Unmans  thought  it  unfortunate  to  sit  down 
at  a  feast  where  the  salt  had  been  forgotten. 
The  Creeks  had  Ihe  same  feeling.  It  was  also 
considered  very  thoughtless  to  leave  sail  unlock 
ed  overnight. 

1  hope,  Daisy  dear,  that  while  reading  anil 
studying  about  these  curious  superstitions  yon 
will  take  care  not  to  believe  in  them  yourself. 


For  the  information  of  some  of  our  new  sub 
seribcrs  who  write  to  ask  we  repeat  that  there 
is  no  charge  for  the  publication  of  exchanges. 
They  should  he  brief.  State  first  what  you  de- 
sire' to  offer,  and  then  what  you  wish  to  receive 
Please  write  with  black  ink  as  plainly  as  von 
can.  .and  sign  your  full  name  and  post-office  ad 
dress.  I'.irds' eggs  and  tire-arms  are  prohibited 
as  articles  of  exchange.  The  Editor  reserves  the 
right  to  exclude  any  exchange  in  whole  or  in 
part  if  for  any  reason  it  is  considered  unfit  for 

*1  01    M:    I'M  .(•!    |- 

Having  sent  your  letter,  you  should  wait  very 
patiently  for  your  turn,  as  the  department  is  al- 
ways crowded,  and  no  exchange  can  ever  be 
printed  in  the  paper  next  issued  after  its  recep- 
tion. 

To  avoid  misunderstanding,  exchangers  should 
always  write  fully  to  each  other  and  receive  re- 
plies before  sending  away  their  articles.  Each 
should  arrange  in  this  way  about  the  necessary 
expense  of  the  mail  or  express.  Articles  should 
not  be  sent  to  the  office  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  but 
directly  to  the  persons  with  whom  they  are  to 
be  exchanged. 

SUCCESSFUL  WIGGLERS.— We  should  be  glad  if 
Hattie  M.  Pearley,  B.  F.  M.,  and  A.  W.,  who  have 


been  successful  in  reproducing  our  artist's  idea 
of  Wiggle  No.  29.  would  each  send  us  his  or  her 
full  name  and  address. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS 
No.  1. 

GEOGRAPHICAL  PUZZLE. 

In  the  month  of  la  cape  in  Massaehll-eli  a 
lady  named  (a  city  in  Brazil],  and  a  gi.nl!,  man 
named  (a  cape  in  Virginia),  went  to  (the  capital 
ot  Italy)  in  the  (a  lake  in  Minnesota).  Thev  walk 
ed  until  noon,  when  the  lady  opened  a  satchel 
made  of  ia  country  in  Atrieai  It  contained  a 

Irn.l  iriv.r  in  Minnesota),  some  fit Id  ui  liver 

in  South  America),  and  a  i  islands  in  the  r  ,  i  . 
Ocean)  for  each.  As  it  had  been  ia  lake  in  Jlin- 
nesota)  and  the  (a  river  in  England)  was  r.nher 
(a  country  of  South  America),  they  wanted  to 
leturii  to  their  home,  but  Ihe  lan  island  west  of 
England)  lost  a  cuff  button  made  of  (a  city  in 
New  Mexico),  and  ornamented  with  ta  river  in 
Mississippi).  While  they  were  on  the  ia  cape  of 
North  Carolina)  they  met  (a  river  ot  South  Amer- 
icai,  who  said  he  thought  (an  island  near  Massa- 
chusetts), who  was  a  colored  woman.  PANSY. 


No.  2. 

MIXED   ANIMALS. 

In  these  examples  the  problem  is  to  arrange. 
the  grouped  letters  so  that  they  will  form  a.  word 
agreeing  with  the  accompanying  delmh  ion. 

I'hclenta— The  largest  ol  quadrupeds. 

spi  iphoptiamu— A  river-horse. 

hVa/Ji    A  .striped  horse. 

Klavvh— A  sea  animal. 

Tribab— A  furry  animal.  BARTIE. 


No.  ti. 

HIDDEN    FISHES. 

1.  I  have  bought  a  new  carpet,  Angelina.  3. 
Lucy  lost  herring.  3.  Tommy  had  ten  chickens 
I  Mr.  stubhs  had  flung  away  all  Toby  Tvler's 
money.  BAIITIE. 

No.  4. 

DOUBLE    ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  kind  of  cloth,  y.  A  precious  stone.  3.  A 
famous  musical  composer.  4.  A  glazier's  dia- 
mond. Primals— A  bird.  Finals— Part  of  the 
bird,  connected,  to  join.  I.OHESTAR. 


No.  5. 

THREE  PROGRESSIVE   HALF-SQUARES. 

1.— 1.  A  letter.    2.  A   preposition.    3.  A   Latin 
verb.    4.  Anything  very  small. 

3.—1.  A  letter.    2.  To  exist.    3.  The  cry  of  a 
iheep.    4.  To  support. 

3.— 1.  A  letter.    2.  An  abbreviation.    3  A  cov- 
Ting.    4.  To  engage  in  conflict.     J.li.  M.  ILES. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  150. 
No.  1.  JAMES 

A  V  E  L  A 
MEDAL 
K  L  A  T  K 
SALE  M 


No.  2. 


No.  3. 
Vo.4. 
Vo.  5. 
Vo.O. 


STo.7.  E 

ASP 

ESSAY 

PAT 

Y 


A  ra  B 
D  at  E 
A  we  D 

M   in   E 

Lock.    Peach. 

Hate. 
Cupboard. 
D  o  li 
<>  b  1 
L  eat  he  It 
L  ul  L 

II  r  T 
QUAIL 

T    I    N 
L 


M 
ROB 

MONEY 

BED 
Y 


Answer  to  Rebus  on  page  848—"  There's  many 
slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip." 

Answer  to  Enigma  on  page  848— A  rainbow. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
•om  Robin  Dyke,  William  A.  Lewis.  John  Duerk, 
Alfred  and  Blanche  Bloomingdale,  Horace  W. 
Danforth,  Alice  C.  Little.  ".Innelmg."  "Fairy 
Codmother."  Lulu  Breese,  Emily  (iodwin,  Archie 
Ives.  '  Mayblossom. "  Fanny  K.  Emerson.  Ben  and 
Ned,  John  Twombhv,  Hugh  Remsen,  •' Fuss  and 
Feathers,"  Brandt  Beekman.  Lena  Matthews  \ 
II.  Patterson.  Frank  Sinsabaugh,  Edith  M.  L.,  Al- 
fred Kauffman. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  Zd  and  3d  pages  of  cover,'] 


32 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


= — •     OUR  AXTISTS  IDEA  OF  W/ccLtU?29. 


SDMI-',    .\NSWEUS    TO    WIGGLE    No.  29,  OUR    ARTIST'S    IDEA.   AND    NEW    WIGGLE,  No.  30. 


^T^ 

I J 


H  HARPERS 


5^-^fiil 

n 

?& 

-@ 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN!1  ILLUSTRATED,  ,,WEEKLY. 




VOL.  IV.— NO.  ll». 


PUBLISHED  BY  HAEPEE  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YOHK. 


TRICE    FOUR    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  November  31,  1882. 


Copyright,  1S32,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHKRS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE    FLY-CATCHER.— [SEE    NEXT    PAGE.] 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FLY-CATCHERS,  BLUE-GUM-TREES,  AND 
SPIDERS'  WEBS. 

BY    ARTHUR    LINDSLEY. 

"T7OUR  hundred  feet  high!     I  don't  believe  a  word  of 
_T     it.     Nobody  ever  saw  a  tree  four  hundred  feet  high ; 
you  nor  any  one  else.  Tom." 

"  I  did  not  say  I  ever  did,  Jack,  so  don't  quite  bowl  me 
over  like  a  ten-pin.  But  I  say  this :  I  have  seen  and  I  have 
measured  those  that  were  fully  three  hundred  fed  in 
height — one  was  twelve  feet  over  it.  And  persons  on 
whose  truthfulness  I  could  depend  have  told  me  that 
away  'in  the  bush' they  had  seen  blue-gum-trees  which 
were  certainly  a  hundred  feet  higher  than  any  of  those 
which  were  about  us.  and  which  I  measured.  I  am  like 
Uncle  Remus:  '  That's  what  makes  I  say  what  I  does.'  " 

"But,  Tom,  do  have  a  little  sense  about  you.  Four 
hundred  feet!  Whew!  We  are  here  in  Macao,  and 
there  is  nothing  to  measure  by;  but  you  have  just  come 
from  New  York.  No\v  imagine  yourself  standing  in 
Broadway  at  the  head  of  Wall  Street,  and  one  of  your 
beautiful  blue-gum-trees  growing  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  and  running  up  alongside  of  Trinity  Church, 
and  when  it  gets  to  the  top  of  the  spire  very  coolly  going 
on  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  higher.  Why,  Tom,  I  am 
ashamed  of  you." 

"All  right.  Jack,  only  I  wish  you  would  just  step  over 
to  Australia  and  mention  to  a  few  of  the  people  that  it  is 
quite  absurd  to  let  their  trees  grow  to  such  a  ridiculous 
height.  I  landed  there  late  in  December,  and  a  few  da\s 
afterward  I  spoke  of  some  of  their  strange  productions  to 
a  man  who  had  come  out  in  the  same  ship  with  nie,  a 
thorough  Londoner.  '  Ya-as,  you  know,  quite  so — aw— 
but  out  yer,  where — aw — they  have  Christmas  in  the — aw 
— middle  of  summer,  you  can't — aw — you  can't  quite  tell, 
as  you  would  at  'ome,'  and  I  thought  so.'' 

This  was  one  day  when  Jack  and  I  were  examining  the 
nests  made  by  the  swallows,  the  sight  which  brought  to 
my  mind  a  nest  which  I  had  seen  iu  Australia,  which. 
though  made  of  totally  different  materials,  had  yet  a  .some- 
what similar  look. 

I  mentioned  it  to  Jack,  and  as  the  nest  is  always  built 
on  a  eucalyptus,  or  at  least  of  eucalyptus  bark,  it  led  me  to 
refer  to  the  eucalyptus- trees  themselves.  They  are  in 
Australia  always  called  gum-trees,  the  Eiicali/ittiiN  (//"/> 
ill  UN  being  the  blue  -  gum,  and  the  wonderful  height  to 
which  that  species  grows,  and  which  I  mentioned  inci- 
dentally and  without  any  thought  of  raising  a  storm,  in- 
duced Jack  to  "pitch  into"  me,  as  he  termed  it,  so  fiercely. 

"But  come  now,  old  fellow,  do  you  mean  it  ?  Really, 
honestly  ;" 

"Certainly  I  mean  it.  Jack.  I  am  not  joking.  The 
three  hundred  is  the  simple  truth,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  larger  story  ma\  be  also  true.'' 

"Well,  then.  I  will  take  it  all  back.  But  what  was 
that  you  were  saying  about  a  ne-,t .-  Nothing  in  the  style 
of  this  sort  of  thing,  I  suppose  }" 

'  •  ( >h  110 ;  mine  was  quite  different ;  but  the  way  its  fibres 
were  woven,  and  bound  together  gave  it  a  somewhat  sim- 
ilar look.  Very  fortunately  I  have  here  a  drawing  of  the 
nest  and  of  the  bird." 

Tins,  of  course,  took  Jack's  attention  on  the  instant:  his 
love  of  natural  history  caught  at  the  idea  of  something 
new,  and  he  began  to  examine  the  drawing  with  great  in- 
terest and  care.  "Queer  little  beggar,  is  lie  not  ?  By-t he- 
way,  is  that  one  of  your  wonderful  gum  plants — eucalyp- 
tus you  called  it  ?" 

"That  is  meant  for  eucalyptus  foliage,  Jack,  but  it  is 
not  accurate.  It  may,  however,  give  you  some  idea  of 
the  tree,  and  also  of  the  fruit,  which  is  a  hard,  almost 
stony,  cup-like  nut.  The  general  look  of  the  bark  and 
stem  is  given  tolerably." 

"But  how  about  that  nest,  my  boy  <     What  is  there 


so  astonishing  as  to  the  nest  ?  You  recollect  Mr.  Twain's 
comment  on  the  Jumping  Frog  at  Angel's  Camp,  '  I  don't 
see  no  p'iiits  about  that  frog  that's  any  better  than  any 
other  frog.'  Well,  that  is  the  way  the  present  attraction 
strikes  me.  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  the  nest;  may 
be  a  very  good  nest;  dare  say  it  is.  But  then  there  was  a 
phcebe-bird  in  New  Haven  that  used  to  build  a  very  good 
nest,  and  a  bluebird  too,  to  say  nothing  of  the  orioles"- 
and  Jack  looked  as  if  he  thought  he  had  rather  caught 
me,  and  had  said  a  pretty  good  thing. 

"It  is  clear  that  you  don't  appreciate  my  little  gobe- 
mouche,  Jack.  We  will  make  a  comparison.  When  your 
swallow  wanted  to  mend  his  nest  if  it  was  broken,  \\hat 
did  he  use,  cotton  or  linen  i"1 

"Cotton  or  linen!  Go  'way!  what  are  you  talking 
about  ?  He  just  wove  the  fibres  together." 

"Just  so.  My  gobe-mouche  did  not  do  that  way;  he 
was  in  a  higher  circle  of  life.  When  he  needed  to  mend 
he  used  silk,  and  in  fact  he  used  silk  from  the  beginning.'' 

"Tom,  have  you  got  any  sense  left  in  you  ?  What  is  a 
gobe-mouche  i  And  what  are  you  talking  about  !" 

"  For  the  benefit  of  those  who  do  not  understand  foreign 
languages  I  will  translate.  A  gobe  -  mouche  is  a  fly- 
catcher." 

"There  I  have  got  you,  my  boy:  there  I  have  got  you. 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  bird  sitting  on  that  nest 
is  a  fly-catcher  ?  But  I  forgot.  Maybe,  down  there  where 
Christmas  comes  in  the  summer,  they  have  different  fly- 
catchers fj  Jin  those  of  other  parts  of  the  world." 

"You  know  I  am  not  much  of  a  naturalist.  Jack,  and  I 
should  hesitate  to  attempt  enlightening  you  on  any  such 
matter,  but  in  this  case  I  am  backed  up  by  good  authority. 
Though  I  have  spoken  of  Australia,  and  though  I  saw 
many  of  them  there,  yet  my  first  acquaintance  with  the 
species  was  made  in  Van  Dieman's  Land  instead.  When 
I  returned  to  Hobart  Town  I  met  Professor  Murray,  who 
happened  to  be  there,  and  submitted  my  collections  to  his 
examination.  He  labelled  the  bird  for  me  Kli ijiiihi i'n 
iillii.-ii-u/i/i.  and  I  found  that  Rhipidura  is  a  species  in  the 
family  of  the  fly-catchers,  so  that  I  am  sure  I  must  be 
right." 

"Very  correctly  and  scientifically  quoted.  I  bow  to 
the  Professor.  A  fly-catcher  the  little  fellow  is  and  al- 
ways shall  be.  Now  go  oil  with  the  nesl." 

"Well,  that  nest  Is  a  u  onderfully  neat  affair,  .lack. 
What  do  you  suppose  it  is  made  of;  The  drawing  can 
scarcely  give  you  an  idea.  It  is  built  of  eucalyptus  bark 
and  spiders'  webs.  The  hark  has  the  tendency  to  split  up 
into  IOIILI-,  slender,  fibrous  strips,  and  you  can  pull  them 
out  as  fine  as  threads,  almost  as  line  as  hair.  These  tin- 
little  gobe-mouche  works  off  for  herself,  or  for  himself 
(for  both  male  and  female  assist  in  the  nest-buildingi.  and 
uses  as  the  main  material — the  war]),  so  to  speak,  in  the 
weaving;  but  then  the  woof  is  very  different.  All  through 
the  forests  in  Australia  and  in  Van  Dieman's  Land  spiders 
abound,  some  of  them  of  large  size.  Their  webs  are  to  be 
seen  in  every  direction,  and  they  are  so  strong  that  I  have 
seen  small  birds  even  stopped  by  them.  The  Rhipidura 
gathers  these  webs,  at  first  singly,  and  then  in  patches  and 
in  bunches,  and  works  them  craftily  in  with  the  eucalyp- 
tus fibres;  and  if  she  had  spun  threads  of  silk  for  the  pur- 
pose she  could  not  have  produced  a  finer  effect.  The 
webs  are  very  bright  and  shining,  and  coming  twisted  in 
through  the  gray  fibres  and  threads  of  the  bark,  they 
make  a  mass — for  you  see  the  nest  is  built  up  quite  solidly 
from  the  bottom — that  has  a  neat  and  silvery  look  partic- 
ularly attractive." 

"Very  satisfactorily  told,  Tom,  for  one  who  professes 
not  to  be  a  naturalist.  But  what  sort  of  looking  person  is 
the  little  gobe-mouche  himself?  Rather  plain,  I  should 
fancy." 

"Very  plain.  Jack;  decidedly  plain.  As  nearly  as  I 
recollect  them,  they  are  of  a  deep  sooty  brown  on  the  back 


21, 188-2. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


35 


and  breast,  all  otliiT  parts  below  being  yellowish;  then 
you  have  tin-  throat  white,  as  well  as  the  spare  above  thi- 
eve and  a  spot  behind  it.  together  with  the  eilir.-s  ,.f  some 
of  the  wing  I'eathei-s  and  those  of  I  he  tail,  the  hill  and  feet 
being  black.  That  is  ahout  the  way  I  remember  him.  At 
all  events,  I  know  there  were  no  bright  rolors  about  him." 

"Not  a  very  ornamental  member  of  society  certainly; 
sorry  for  him.  But  mav  he  he  made  ii  up  vocally.  Some 
of  the  tl\  catchers  are  very  s\\rei  singers." 

"  I  ran  not  think  that  lie  excelled  even  in  that.  They 
seemed  to  I"-  very  gentle  and  easy  -  goin^  liltle  souls. 
They  came  a  hoi  it  the  hoUS68  OS  famil  iarlv  as  <-oiild  lie.  and 
1  have  often  seen  tlii-in  come  hopping  lip  oil  the  bushes 
within  live  or  ,,ix  feet  of  me.  I'.ut  they  seemed  to  have  no 
nnisiral  ambition  whatever.  All  thai  I  ever  heard  was  a 
feeble  note  no\v  and  then  -nothing  that  you  could  call 
sinking1.  But  they  had  one  curious  habit  which  I  never 
saw  displayed  by  any  other  bird.  It  was  this: 

"In    the  bright   days  of  spriiiLr.  uhich   you    k '.    Come 

there  in  October.  1  used  often  to  watch  them.  One 
would  start  from  a  hush  and  1:0  almost  straight  upward, 
perhaps  several  hundred  fret.  He  acted  always  as  though 
he  was  driven  by  a  sort  of  fren/.v  .  1  used  to  fancy  to  mv 

self  that  it   was  a  kind  of  | tlcal   and  musical   i  n-pi  rat  ion . 

Ills  tail  would  he  spread  as  widely  as  he  could  stretch  it. 
bis  wings  fluttering-  and  (piivering-.  his  feathers  milled. 
and  everything  ahout  him  indicating  intense  excitement. 
while  every  few  seconds  he  would  hurst  out  into  a  series 
of  joyful  cries,  really  sweet,  though  you  could  not  fairly 

call   il   a  Minir. 

"He  would  go  on  that  way  till  he  reached  his  highest 
point,  I  thought  till  he  tired  himself  out.  w  hen  all  at  once 
In-  would  stop,  come  very  humbly  and  <|iiietlv  down,  sit 
awhile,  and  oil'  he  would  go  a^ain.  A  curious  habit,  but 
I  have  seen  them  do  it  hundreds  of  times.  Thai  is  all 

there  is  a  1 1  him  :  bill  what  a  queer  thing  il  is  for  me  to 

be  giving  you  a  lecture  about  birds!" 

"All  riirhi,  Tom  ;  \  ou  will  do  yourself  credit  as  a  nat- 
uralist some  of  these  dav  s." 


A    \v  I  u>  GOOSE   dl  ASH 

3  £l)iint>SQil>iiiQ  JJocm. 

it  Y  .IOSH  IMI  INF.  I'o  i.i.  v  i:n. 

Tn  \\u~i. i\  IM.'     When  KHie  lieiml  il   sin-  knew  very  well  what 

il      111"  Mill 

For  always  at  Grandma  Thanksgiving  -duy  had  been  spent, 

AVilh  aunls  and  uncles  and  con-in-,  do^-,  eats,  and  puinpl-.iii  pie-. 
And  inn-  and  apple-,  rnilicsume  games,  and  many  a  glad  surprise, 

Is  "Fanksgivin'-day  In-morrerv"  nver  and  over  :iLrain 
Kltie  would  a-k  her  pan-ills,  heir^inir  them  In  explain 
HIPW  many  days  and  weeks  must  pass,  and  endeavor  to  make 

it   clear 
"Why  Thanksgiving-day  at  grandma's  came  only  once  in  a  year. 

The  ( Jovernor's  proclamation,  for  the  irood  of  the-  nation  planned. 
Little  Eftie  was  much  t<m  young  aiul  ton  Mighty  to  iiiiderstand. 
But   she  comprehended   the  meaning  i.l    preparalions   to  start 
.For  Grandma  Spicer's;  and  no  one  could  have  a  more  thankful 
heart. 

But   this  year  the  Hoods  hail  broken   auay  the  barriers  strong, 
And  over  the  roads  and  the  meadows  went  roaring  and  rush- 
ing along. 

Bearing  away  the  bridge",  and  whatever  else  there  might  he 
In  their  track;  and  the  narrow  streamlet  stretched  out  to  a  great 
wide  sea. 

There  were  lives  lost,  too,  in  the  torrent   that  was  all  the  while 

being  fed 
By  the  great  black  clouds  that   hung  like  a  mantle  of  gloom 

o'eihead, 


And  as  soon  as  the  sun  shone  out  again  the  dismal  troop  to 
disperse, 

'!  ^Ill-red  in  solemn   crowds,  and  said,  "Thank  God  that   il 

is  no  worse!" 

Kftie  had  heard  her  father  say.  as  lie  brushed  away  a  tear. 
That   he  wouldn't   he  able  to  travel  about  verv  much  this  vear. 
And  the   little  maiden  thought   'twould  lie   a  hitter  drop  in  her 

cup 
If  the   visit   to  Grandma   Spicers   was  to   be  given  up. 

For  bow  could  they  keep  Thanksgiving  all  alone  by  thein-elves. 
Even   with    lots   of   pies   and    things   spread   out    on    Hie    pantry 

shelves? 

And  how  could  Grandma  Spicer  give  thanks  in  a  proper  way 
If  none  of  them   went   to  see  her.  to  help  her  keep  the  day'.' 

Thus  rearmed  the  little  maiden,  who  grew    very  sad  and  sedate, 
As  if  a  pn/./.le  were  twisting  itself  about    in  her  curly   pate. 
And  as  she'd  been  always  cheerful,  and  rather  to  romps  inclined, 
Twas  feared  that  her  father's  troubles  had  worried  the  baby  mind. 

Tvvas    the    day    before    Thanksgiving,   as    searching    the    place 

around. 
From  garret    to  cellar,  from   barn  to  shed,  little   Eftie  could   not 

In    found. 

And  all  Uie  liva-ure<  that  had  been  swept  away  in  the  vast  abyss. 
Though  grievous  to  lose,  could  not  compare  with  a  loss  so  great 

as  this. 

She   was  surely  stolen   from  them  like  poor  little  Charley  Hoss 
And    U/yie   Selden!      God    pity   the  bearers  of  such  a  cross' 
They  solicit  for  her  in  the  dismal  swamp,  and  oil'  bv   the  lonely 

church  ; 
Tliev    looked    iii   the  well,  and,  as   niulil   <  ami-  on,  with  lanterns 

kept   up   the  search. 

In  a  village  some  ten  miles  distant  was  Grandma  Spieer's  abode, 
And   the   way  to   il    was  over  a   rugged  and   lonesome   road. 
And    KHie's  falher  and   mother  drove  over  to  lell    lln-ir  sorrow. 
And  the  reason  why  in  failing  and  praver  they'll  have  to  spend 
tin-  morrow. 

lint   Grandma's  eves  had  a  twinkle  in  them  as  she  soberly  said, 
"\\ell,  now    you're  SO  worn   and   weary,  you'll  heller  uo  right  to 

bed: 
Tho-e   only  are  worthy    the   sweel    v  ho   have    tasteil    Ihc    bitter 

drink, 
And   it   may  be   the  dawn  is  breaking — is  nearer  now  than  you 

think." 

Thev    closed  the  door  of  their  chamber,  heavy  and  sick  at  liearl  ; 
111   the  festival   of  Ihe   morrow    determined    to   lake   no   part; 
And  turning  they  saw — what  was  if.'— the  old  fashioned  trundle- 
bed. 
And  there,  asleep  on  the  pillow,   their  own   liltle  "curly-head"! 

"Kllic!   Kllir!"  tin-  mother  screamed  ;   "I   have   found   my  child 

at   last." 

"  FHie!  Kflie  !"  the  father  cried,  his  tears  coming  Ihick  and  fast: 
And   all   that   the   naughty   maiden   said,  as   she   quietly  sucked 

her  thumb. 
Was,  "It's    Fanksgivin'-day    to-morrer,   and    gran'muvver   said 

you'll  come." 

Oh,  that  was  a  rare  Thanksgiving!  the  lifting  of  soul  above 

The  things  of  earth,  to  the  thought  of  God's  goodness  and  in- 
finite love ; 

And  when  the  story  of  floods  and  misfortunes  the  group  rehearse. 

Each  looks  in  a  dear  one's  face  and  feels  there  are  trials  that 
might  be  worse. 

And  when  Effie  has  told  her  story — the  troublesome  little  elf! — 
I  low  -he  started  all  right  for  grandma's,  and  suddenly  lost  herself. 
And  how  seared  she  was,  with  many  a  loving  kiss  and  embrace 
They  forgive  the  little  "goosie"  that  started  this  wild-goose 
chase. 


36 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


fo 


>«?'Jl      iKink     t°°,    when.    he     < 
the    lafk,    tha.i    he    d°'s 

ROBERT  HERRICK. 

TO  many  of  the  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  the  name 
of  Herrick  is  familiar  as  the  author  of  the  beautiful 
poems  "  To  Daffodils"  and  "To  Blossoms."  and  when  they 
grow  older  they  will  find  that  he  wrote  hundreds  of  equal- 
ly beautiful  lyrics,  but  in  a  style  not  quite  easy  for  them 
to  understand  as  yet.  For  Herrick  died  more  than  two 
hundred  years  ago,  and  wrote  in  the  manner  of  his  time. 
The  picture  on  this  page,  taken  from  a  superb  holiday  vol- 
ume of  selections  from  his  poems,  illustrated  by  Mr.  E.  A. 
Abbey,  and  just  published  by  Harper  &  Brothers,  shows 
how  the  stern  school-master  of  other  days  was  a  terror  to 
boys  who  did  not  learn  their  lessons. 


MIKE'S  "POOR  RICH  BOY." 
SI  SCIjanftsflflnna  Storn. 


BY  MARY  DENSEL. 

THE  October  sun  was  shining  with  all  its  might  on  the 
crimson  and  yellow  maple  -trees,  turning  the  whole 
street  into  a  blaze  of  glory. 

And  was  that  a  particularly  brilliant  leaf  which  had 
fallen  on  the  church  steps  ?  Far  from  it.  That  was  the 
red  head  of  a  small  boy,  who,  stretched  at  full  length,  was 
basking  in  the  light  and  heat,  and  lazily  wondering  what 
that  glitter  of  gold  coming  nearer  and  nearer  might  be. 

Suddenly  he  sat  upright  and  gave-  a  low  whistle. 

"Well,  I  never  see  in  all  my  life  so  much  brass  on  a 
harness,  nor  sich  shiny  buttons,"  said  he,  staring  at  the 
approaching  carriage,  with  its  liveried  coachman  and  foot- 
man. 

What  with  the  sun  and  the  leaves  and  the  harness  and 
the  buttons,  it  seemed  as  if  the  light  of  seven  days  was 
pouring  down  that  street.  Our  red-headed  friend  —  no  un- 
worthy feature  in  the  landscape  —  still  stood  admiring,  as 
I  he  carriage  drew  up  at  an  opposite  house. 

The  footman  opened  the  door,  and  after  a  showily 
dressed  lady  had  alighted  he  took  from  inside  the  coupe  — 
What  was  it  ?  A  bundle,  Mike  MeShane  thought  at,  h'rst. 
No;  that  could  not  be  a  bundle.  Mike  caught  sight  of 
a  boy's  fare,  small,  pale,  with  great  black  eyes,  and  then 
Mike  saw  two  tiny  feet  dangling  from  two  shrunken  legs. 
He  saw  no  more,  for  the  footman  had  gone  up  the  stone 
steps,  and  the  house  door  had  closed  behind  him. 

Mike  whistled  again,  and  somehow  it  seemed  as  if  the 
sun  were  clouded;  as  if  the  bright  leaves  danced  less  mer- 


rily; as  if  even  the  gilding  on 
th'e  harnesses  were  dulled. 

"  That  chap's  a  cripple,"  said 
Mike,  under  his  breath. 

He  sat  himself  down  on  the 
church  steps  and  looked  sober- 
ly at  his  own  feet.  He  gave 
a  resounding  slap  on  his  own 
two  sturdy  legs. 

"Precious  shabby  shoo'  and 
second-hand  trousis,  but — 

Mike  shook  his  head  and  pon- 
dered. 

"See!  see!  see!"  chirped  an 
English  sparrow  at  his  elbow, 
and,  looking  round,  Mike  be- 
came aware  that  the  pale  face 
and  great  black  eyes  were 
watching  him  from  between 
the  curtains  of  the  opposite, 
window,  which  was  open. 

Mike  stared  back,  and  linally 
tipped  his  neighbor  a  friendly 
nod.  The  black  eyes  opened  a 
little  wider,  but  no  answering 

smile  appeared.  Half  bashful,  half  eager,  Mike  came 
slowly  across  the  street  and  leaned  his  shabby  elbows  on 
the  iron  fence  in  front  of  the  window.  The  face  above 
ga/ed  steadily  down  at  him  as  gloomy  as  night. 

Suddenly  Mike  threw  both  legs  skyward,  stood  a  mo- 
ment on  his  head,  then  popped  on  his  feet  again  with  a 
series  of  nods  and  a  display  of  two  rows  of  white  teeth. 

This  time  the  black  eyes  opened  very  wide  indeed  with 
astonishment,  and  a  look  of  amusement  crept  into  them. 

Mike  turned  a  couple  of  somersaults,  and  then  ventured 
a  polite  "Hi,  you  there!"  by  way  of  conversation. 
"  Hi,  you  there  !"  answered  the  pale  lips,  soberly. 
Mike  indulged  in  a  series  of  "cart-wheels." 
The  boy  at  the  window  actually  clapped  his  thin  hands. 
"Do  that  again,"  said  lie. 

"I'll  dance  for  you,  if  you  like,"  suggested  Mike,  and 
he  was  about  to  begin  a  wild  "breakdown,"  when  a  tall 
female  in  a  white  cap  and  apron  appeared,  the  window 
was  shut  down  with  a  snap,  and  all  Mike  could  hear  was  a 
sharp,  angry  cry  as  the  little  cripple  was  borne  away. 

"Big  house — two  hosses — black  velvet  trousis — ring  on 
his  finger — lame  o'  both  feet." 

Mike  had  come  home  to  dinner,  and  was  conversing  be- 
tween his  mouthfuls  of  porridge.  Biddy  McShane,  his 
small  sister,  was  listening. 

"Lame  o'  both  feet,"  cried  Biddy,  pityingly.  "Oh, 
take  me  wid  ye,  Mike,  to  see  him." 

But  Mike  shook  his  head.  "Your  olo1  ain't  that  as 
would  warrant  ye  appearing  among  folks  o'  quality,  Bid- 
dy McShane,"  said  he,  loftily,  and  off  he  went  in  all  the 
dignity  of  his  second-hand  trousers  to  watch  that  house 
beneath  the  maple-trees.  But  no  glimpse  did  he  catch  of 
its  inmates,  though  he  lingered  long.  Again  and  again  lie 
went,  drawn,  by  a  most  intense  pity  for  that  little  cripple. 
It  was  more  than  a  week  before  he  beheld  the  glittering 
carriage  whirling  down  the  street,  and  as  it  stopped,  lo ! 
there  was  no  footman. 

"You  can't  leave  your  horses,"  said  the  lady  1<>  the 
coachman.      "Dear  me.  where  is  Thomas  :" 
Mike  sprang  to  her  side,  his  face  all  aglow. 
"I'm    tirribli-    strung    for    my   size,  mum,"  cried   he. 
"Just  give  me  a  holt  of  him.  and  I  can  carry  him  like  a 
babby." 

Before  the  l:nK  could  interfere,  before  the  lame  boy  had 
time  to  be  frightened,  Mike  had  plunged  into  the  carriage, 
had  lifted  its  inmate  in  his  sturdy  arms,  and  was  stagger- 
ing up  the  steps,  pulling  and  straining,  but  able  to  land 
his  burden  on  the  plush  sofa  inside  the  door. 


MiVKMIiKK   21,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


37 


!!•••>  dare  you!"  began  the  lady,  much  agitated  and 
angered:  but  her  sou  held' fast  to  Mike's  rough  little 
hand. 

"  It's  in  if  boy.  mamma, "he  exclaimed.  ''The  one  who 
can  kick  up  his  heels  so.  He  was  going  to  dance.  Inn 
Marie  drove  him  away.  Dance  now.  boy." 

But  how  could  Mike  cut  double-shuffles  OH  that  bellou 
i TIM!  carpel  ! 

••Houly  Patrick!  I'll  not  dance."  quoth  he,  "but  I'll 
give  ye  some  music." 

So  lixing  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  Mike  poured  forth  his 
soul  in  sony.  Very  shrill  it  was. 

"Come  Ijjii-k  to  Erin,  mavourneen,  inavmirncen." 

But  Mike  evidently  considered  it  a  specimen  of  high  art. 
So  did  the  lame  boy.  Adolphe  Van  Wyke. 

"Sing  some  more."  lie  ordered. 

"I  don't  know  any  more,"  said  Mike,  rather  crest-fallen. 
Then,  brightening  again: 

"I'll  tell  ye.  sonny.  I've  got  a  cart.  I  could  draw  ye 
out  and  not  jolt  ye  half  so  much  as  them  hosses.  Come, 
now." 

"  Oh,  let  him  bring  his  cart,  mamma  !"  pleaded  Adolphe. 

Mrs.  Van  Wyke  looked  disturbed.  "  I  suppose  Thomas 
might  walk  behind,  and  make  it  respectable."  said  she. 

But  both  boys  \\ere  loo  cayer  to  mind  her  hesitation; 
all  they  cared  for  was  that  permission  u  as  given  Mike  to 
race  home  ,-md  race  hack  again  witli  the  hand  cart,  which 
had  hitherto  known  no  more  dignilied  freight  than  the 
baskets  of  clean  clothes  Mrs.  McShane  sent  back  to  her 
customers. 

"  And,  law  :  Middy,  ye'd  ought  to  have  seen  us!"  exclaim- 
ed Mike.  when,  two  hours 
later,  he  appeared  under  the 
maternal  roof.  "  There  was 
me  a  draggin'  the  cart,  and 
hi  in  settin'  on  a  cushion,  and 
Thomas  a  marehin'  behint, 
and  shinin'  like  the  morniu'. 
\\'e  uas  genteel.  I  tell  you. 
But  there,  Biddy  McSliane. 
u  hat's  the  odds  a  -belli'  rich  '. 
I  was  speakiii'  to  him  about 
playin'  ball — jest  to  make  it 
lively,  ye  know.  But  he 
can't  play.  He  ne\er  uent 
sailin'  in  a  punt.  He  never 
had  a  game  of  'I-spy!'  nor 
'Wolf!'  nor  'Hockey!'  He 
never  could  shin  a  tree,  nor 
go  clammin'.  I  declare  to 
gracious,  Biddy,  it's — it's — 

Mike's  voice  quite  failed 
him,  and  as  for  Biddy,  two 
great  tears  stood  in  her  eyes 
from  pity  for  the  little  rich 
boy  who  had  so  few  plea- 
sures. 

"Biddy,"  continued  her 
lirotlier,  when  they  had  med- 
itated awhile  in  silence,  "I 
"vvas  telliu'  him  about  the 
splendid  supper  the  ladies 
and  gents  gives  us  at  the 
evening  school  Thaiiksgivin'- 
day.  'It  ain't  that  I  cares 
much  for  the  readin'  and 
spelliu','  says  I;  'but  the 
turkeys  is  illigaut,  and  the 
cranberry  sauce  enough  to 
make  ye  squeal,'  says  I. 
'  What  do  I  care  for  Thanks- 
giviii'-day?'— mind  that,  Bid- 


dy McShane — '  what  do  I  care  for  Thanksgivin'-day  '.'  saj  s 
he.  '  M\  ma  she  has  a  greal  party,  but  I  can't  go  to  the 
table:  il  makes  my  back  ache.  I  have  to  stay  all  by  my- 
self in  the  nursery,  and  where's  the  fun  ';'  says  he.  [  |e|| 
you  that  made  me  feel  awful.  Him  all  alone!  Biddv" 
here  Mike's  voice  grew  low  and  solemn  -"  Kiddy,  'I'll 
come  and  stay  wid  ye,  anil  teach  ye  to  play  uiumble-the- 
peg,'  says  I." 

"  And  give  up  the  supper  at  the  evening  school  ;"  asked 
Biddy,  aghast. 

"Worse  nor  that."  answered  Mike,  thrusting  his  head 
forward,  and  gesticulating  with  his  chin — "worse  nor 
that.  1  can't  be  beholden  to  rich  folks  for  my  supper,  so 
I  shall  carry  something  to  eat  wid  me.  And  it's  not  com- 
mon h'xin's  I  can  take  to  a  fine  house,  so  I  shall  buy — 
Here  Mike  grew  mysterious.  "I  sha'u't  say  what  I  shall 
buy,  but  it  '11  cost  twmty-five  ciuts,  and  that  I've  got  in 
my  tin  box." 

"  Mikey,"  exclaimed  Biddy,  in  utter  despair,  "them's 
the  pennies  you've  been  a-savin'  of  to  go  to  the  theayter 
wid  me  Thanksgivin'-night." 

"  I  can't  help  it.  I'll  go  to  no  thertT/ter,  and  1'ave  that 
chap  alone,"  declared  Mike,  growing  very  red  in  his  ex- 
citement. "  You  can  do  as  you  choose,  Biddy  McShane." 

Biddy  turned  red  in  her  turn.  "It's  my  twinty-five 
ciuts  I'll  spend  for  him  too,"  cried  she,  in  a  burst  of  emo- 
tion. "  I'll  not  say  what  I'll  buy,  but  it's  going  to  be 
mag — nificint.  Mike." 

"Biddy,  you're  a  jewel,"  said  Mike,  and  Biddy  was 
blessed. 

Day  after  day  Mike's  tender  Irish  heart  grew  more  piti- 
ful over  his  "poor  rich  boy,"  though  it  was  not  very 


'  LAW  !    BIDDY,  YE'D    OUGHT 


HAVE    SEEN   US!' 


38 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


often  he  saw  him,  for  Adolphe  had  several  times  heen 
obliged  to  lie  in  bed  suffering  pain.  But  whenever  he 
was  able  to  bear  it,  the  little  hand-cart  was  at  his  service, 
and  his  new  friend  was  never  tired  of  drawing  him  up 
and  down  the  pavement. 

Mrs.  Van  Wyke  gradually  lost  the  suspicious  look  she 
had  worn  at  first.  Mike  was  never  bold  or  intrusive.  He 
never  sat  on  her  door-steps,  however  he  might  haunt  those 
of  the  church  opposite.  As  the  November  days  grew 
gray  and  cold  she  often  saw  him  there,  wistfully  eying 
the  windows  of  Adolphe's  chamber.  Once  she  even  went 
so  far  as  to  invite  him  in,  but  he  refused  to  come. 

"  It's  my  old  do'  I  have  on,  mum,"  said  he.  "  My  new 
shoo1  they  won't  be  done  till  Thauksgiviii'-day.  Then 
I'm  a-comin',  if  ye  plase,  to  learn  him  to  play  '  mumble- 
the-peg.'" 

But  lie  added  not  a  word  about  his  twenty-five  cents. 

It  was  Thursday,  November  the  twenty-seventh. 

Poor  little  Adolphe  had  had  a  hard  night  of  it.  The 
morning  dragged  on;  dull  out-of-doors;  dull  enough  in 
that  richly  furnished  nursery. 

Adolphe  had  read  all  his  amusing  books  until  he  knew 
them  by  heart.  He  was  weary  of  the  volumes  of  en- 
gravings. 

His  mother  was  busy  arranging  flowers  for  the  grand 
dinner  party.  Marie  was  by  no  means  patient  when 
Adolphe  fretted  and  whined.  So  the  day  wore  wearily 
on  until  the  dusk  began  to  gather. 

Then  "rat-tat-tat"  on  the  area  door;  a  clatter  of  heavily 
shod  feet  in  the  hall.  The  door  of  Adolphe's  room  flew 
open,  and  on  the  threshold,  his  face  shining  with  its  re- 
cent scrubbing,  every  white  tooth  in  his  wide  mouth 
gleaming,  both  hands  grasping  a  big  newspaper  bundle,  a 
vision  of  delight  from  his  hobnailed,  row-hide  shoes  to 
his  sleek,  carroty  head,  stood  Michael  McShanc. 

"I've  come  to  take  supper  wid  ye,"  he  announced, 
breathlessly,  and  Adolphe  actually  laughed  aloud  in  his 
glee. 

"  Here's  what  my  Biddy  sent  ye,"  continued  Mike,  un- 
doing a  parcel. 

It  was  a  huge  piece  of  card-board,  whereon  was  em- 
broidered "  God  Bless  Our  Home."  Were  there  ever  such 
yellow  letters?  Was  there  ever  such  a  wonderful  green 
house,  with  pink  blinds  and  a  purple  chimney  ? 

"For  me  ?"  exclaimed  Adolphe. 

"From  my  Biddy,"  repeated  Mike,  proudly.  "She 
done  it  herself,  and  it  cost  twin —  Never  mind  that, 
though.  Here's  the  note  she  sent:  'Pies  to  youse  this 
commuii.'  Use  it  common,  you  know.  She  was  scared 
you'd  put  it  away  in  a  drawer,  it's  so  handsome." 

It  seemed  as  if  Adolphe  could  never  admire  it  enough. 
"God  bless  our  home — God  bless  our  home, "he  kept  re- 
peating. 

"And  here's  my  supper,"  said  Mike  at  last. 

Out  of  the  newspaper  package  he  produced  a  scar-let 
lobster.  That  he  had  thought  food  dainty  enough  for 
such  an  occasion. 

Where  can  I  find  words  to  tell  you  of  the  pleasure 
which  followed  ? 

Marie  brought  duck,  jelly,  even  ice-cream,  from  down- 
stairs. But  the  crowning  feature  of  the  feast  was  un- 
doubtedly the  lobster. 

Adolphe  forgot  his  pain,  Mike  forgot  his  thea?/ter.  And 
when  they  were  nearly  at  the  end  of  supper  there  came 
a  fresh  surprise. 

' '  Rub-a-dub-dub !     Eub-a-dub-dub !" 

"It's  the  'McShane  Body-guards!'"  cried  Mike,-spring- 
ing  to  the  window. 

Sure  em  nigh,  rallying  round  the  street  lamp-post  were 
some  ten  or  a  dozen  ragamuffins  armed  with  wooden  guns, 
and  adorned,  as  to  their  heads,  with  newspaper  soldier 
caps.  They  bore  for  a  banner  an  ancient  political  trans- 
parency— "The Union,  it  must  be  preserved." 


"I'm  Cap'n  of  'em," announced  Mike,  loftily.  "  I  told 
'em  to  march  up  here  and  let  you  see  'em.  They  know 
all  about  you." 

Of  course  they  did.  With  one  accord  they  sent  up 
three  rousing  cheers  as  Adolphe  appeared  at  his  window. 
They  waved  their  transparency  wildly.  They  marched 
and  countermarched  about  the  lamp- post.  Then  their 
Captain  dismissed  them  with  a  "  Be  off  wid  ye!"  Where- 
upon they  disappeared  round  the  corner,  followed  in  the 
rear  by  a  remarkable  figure  wrapped  in  a  big  blanket 
shawl. 

"That's  Biddy,  "said  Mike.  "  Hi,  you,  Biddy !  Don't 
you  wisht  you  could  come  up  here  and  play  wid  us  ?  You 
can't,  though.  Shut  the  window,  Adolphe.  She's  mighty 
smart  for  her  kind,  is  Biddy,  but,  law !  she's  only  a  girl." 

"Mike, "said  Adolphe,  "I'd  like  to  make  some  epau- 
lets for  your  company.  Marie,  there's  some  colored  pa- 
per in  mamma's  room.  And  bring  two  pairs  of  scissors, 
won't  you  !" 

There  was  no  more  dreariness  for  Adolphe  that  evening. 
After  the  epaulets  were  made  the  classic  game  of  "  mum- 
ble-the-peg"  was  played.  When,  every  now  and  then, 
Marie  insisted  on  Adolphe's  resting,  Mike  was  entertained 
with  picture-books.  The  hours  flew  by.  Could  that  be 
the  bell  for  nine  o'clock  ''.  Where  had  the  time  gone  ? 
And  here  was  Mrs.  Van  Wyke  herself.  Mike  had  never 
imagined  anything  so  beautiful  as  she  was  in  her  dinner 
dress.  She  was  holding  out  her  soft  white  hand.  The 
tears  were  actually  in  her  eyes. 

"Little  boy,"  said  she.  gently,  to  Mike,  "I  thank  you 
very  much  for  your  kindness  to  my  son." 

"Law  !"  exclaimed  Mike,  twisting  his  forelock. 

"And  I'm  blest  in  my  sperit.  Biddy."  explained  he  aft- 
erward, "  if  I  could  think  of  another  word  to  say.  'Won't. 
ye  come  again  .''  says  she.  '  I  wull,'  says  I.  '  Come  ivery 
day.'  sa\s  Adolphe,  sort  <>'  brisk  like." 

"And  didn't  he  say  'fetch  Biddy  ?'"  inquired  that 
young  person,  eagerly. 

"No,  he  did  not,"  answered  Mike,  haughtily.  "He 
thought  your  worsted- work  was  lovely,  but  ye  must  re- 
mimber  ye're  nothin'  but  a  girl,  Biddy  McShaiie.  'Come 
ivery  day,  and  then  they'll  all  be  Thanksgiviii'-days,'  says 
he." 

THK  MAGIC  GROWTH  OF  FLOWERS. 

BY    HENRY    H  ATTON,  M  AGI  CI  AN    AND    OONJUEER. 

A  VERY  wonderful  and,  to  my  mind  at  least,  the  most 
beautiful  trick  exhibited  is  "the  growth  of  flowers," 
which  was  first  introduced  by  Colonel  Stodare,  a  once-fa- 
mous London  magician.  The  idea  is  taken  from  "the 
growing  mango-tree"  of  the  Indian  conjurers,  hut  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  original  is  as  good  as  the  copy,  for 
despite  the  wonderful  stories  told  by  travellers,  the  per- 
formances of  the  dark  skinned  magicians  are  not  equal  to 
those  of  their  more  civilized  brethren. 

In  "the  growth  of  flowers,"  as  presented  by  Stodare, 
three  tables  draped  nearly  to  the  floor  are  used.  On  the 
top  of  each  is  a  circular  piece  of  metal  supported  by  light 
wire  legs. 

The  performer  first  calls  attention  to  a  card-board  cone 
open  at  both  ends,  which  is  passed  among  the  audience, 
that  all  may  see  it  is  empty.  Next  he  brings  forward  two 
common  red  clay  flower-pots  containing  earth.  "  A  third 
pot  is  generally  used,"  Mr.  Conjurer  explains,  "but  un- 
fortunately it  has  been  broken."  Some  one  is  requested 
to  probe  the  earth  with  a  stick,  and  everything  being  pro- 
nounced fair  and  above  suspicion,  the  trick  begins. 

Each  pot  is  covered  in  turn  with  the  cone,  on  removing 
which  a  flower  bush  is  discovered.  Finally  from  the 
same  cone  is  produced  both  a  pot  and  a  bush. 

The  usual  explanation  volunteered  by  the  knowing 
ones  in  the  audience  is  that  the  flowers  are  forced  up  by  a 


MiVKMIIKi:  21,  1882 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


39 


spring.  As  a  general  thing,  of  course,  the  spring  (Iocs 
bring  up  tip'  flowers,  but  in  tins  particular  CUM-  it  is  the 
performer  who  does  it. 

The  apparatus  is  so  simple  that  any  hoy  of  ordinary  in- 
genuity can  make  it  ;  hut  even  with  tin-  apparatus  no  one 
conld  do  tin-  trick  unless  acquainted  with  the  necessary 
routine. 

Before  touching  on  this,  however,  let  me  describe  the 
apparatus.  Instead  of  the  one  cone  shown  to  the  audi- 
ence, four  are  actually  used.  These  lit  one  within  tin'  Oth 
cr.  the  line  shown  being  the  largest,  ami  consequently  the 
outermost  one.  Tno  of  the  three  flower  hushes  are  fast- 
ened to  round  wooden  moss-covered  vases  of  a  si/e  to  lit 
snugly  into  a  flowerpot;  the  third  hush  is  fastened  into 
a  pot,  this  pot.  by  the  -live,  bein^  usually  of  pasteboard 
painted  red.  The  vases  an-  neighled  by  pouring  molten 
lead  into  auger-holes,  and  ^  unei  imes  have  a  spike  project- 
ing from  their  under  side. 

\Vheii  alioiit  to  show  the  trick,  each  bush  is  covered  lu- 
ll cone,  u  it  Inn  which  it  is  held  by  a  ".Teen  cord  fastened 
by  one  end  to  the  vase,  the  oilier  end  having  a  small  bra-s 
rimr  attached,  which  passes  over  a  Hat  hook  riveted  on 
the  inside  of  t  he  c.  me  at  the  top. 

At   the  back  of  each  table,  near  the  11 '.  is  a   projecting 

shelf,  on   \\hich  is  .stood  a  cone  covered  hiisli,  the  drapery 

of  the  table  concealing  it.     For  home  use  i  hoe  tables  may 

be  made  of  four  h-o  ^vi  I  slools,  each  wilh  a  pole  rising  Irom 
the  cent  re,  and  . surmount cil  h\  a  square  of  u  ood  for  a  top. 
The  drapery  should  be  tacked  on  three  sides  of  the  top. 
and  fall  to  a  point  just  he  low  the  top  of  the  slo..|. 

Tin-  largest  of  these  three  cones,  \\hieh  I  uill  call  A. 
stands  at  the  back  of  the  centre  table;  the  next  in  si/.e.  I!. 
on  the  table  at  the  extreme  right;  and  the  smallest.  (  '. 
which  contains  hot  h  pot  and  bush,  on  the  table  at  tin-  left. 
The  tuo  llo.verpols  rest  on  the  metal  disks,  which  are 
placed  respectively  on  the  centre  ami  the  left  hand  tab 
The  purpose  of  this  peculiar  arrangement  will  appear  if 
my  readers  note  well  the  progress  of  t  he  trick. 

The  performer  approaches  the  centre  table,  and  holding 

the  cone  u  it  h  hot  h  ha  lids,  one  at  each  end,  co\  er^  the  mnl 
die  pot   with  it.       As  In-  does  this,  he  presses  into  the  cart  1 1 
with  the  hand  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  cone  a  short 
pointed  stick,  to  which  is  attached  a  rose  bud. 

Now  comes  t  lie  most  important  and  the  best  move  in  the 
trick.       Standing  with  his  right   side  to  the  I.  It    of  the   ta- 
ble, he  lifts  t  he  cone  u  i  1 1 1  his  ri^li  I   I  la  I  id.  a  ml  ilia  per  feel 
ly  natural  way  lets  il  drop  behind  the  table,  and  over  cone 
A.      Almost  at  the  same  moment  he  makes  a  half-turn  of 
his  body  to  t  he  right,  u  Inch  brink's  out   the  tuo  cones,  and 
extending  his   left    hand,  points   to  the  bud,  to   which   he- 
calls   attention.        The   movement    is  so    natural,   and    the 
cone  is  out  of  sight   for  such  a  short  time,  that   the  specta 
tors  are  not  au  a  re  they  ha  ve  e\  IT  taken  t  hei  r  e\  es  oil'  it. 

Holding  the  I  \\  o  cones  together  by  means  of  his  ri^hl 
hand  lingers  on  the  inside,  at  the  top.  and  his  thumb  on 
the  outside,  the  conjurer  picks  lip  the  pot.  and  carries  il  to 
the  right  hand  table,  on  which  he  places  il.  Again  he 
covers  it  with  the  cone,  and,  as  he  does  so,  releases  the 
little  brass  ring  at  the  top  with  his  right  fore  linger.  Now 
he  raises  the  two  cones  together,  and,  as  before,  his  hand 
drops  behind  the  table,  and  this  time  brings  up  cone  li; 
the  same  half-turn  of  the  body,  the  same  extension  of  the 
left  arm,  and  he  passes  to  the  left  hand  table.  Kor  a  third 
time  he  goes  through  the  same  routine,  ending  by  picking 
up  both  hush  and  llower-pot.  Advancing  to  the  foot- 
lights, he  stands  the  cone  on  the  crown  of  some  gentle- 
man's hat,  and  produces  the  pot  with  the  bush. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  three  cones  which  cover 
the  bushes  might  be  dispensed  with,  but  without  them  to 
confine  the  branches  of  the  flowers  it  would  he  impossible 
to  cover  the  hushes  rapidly. 

The  trick  pleases  the  eye,  and  is  popular;  as  a  conse- 
quence, attempts  have  been  made  to  improve  011  it.  The 


one  attempted  some  six  years  ago  at  a  New  York  theatre 
is  worthy  of  mention  on  account  of  its  ridiculous  ending. 
The  performer  in  question  proposed  to  exhibit  the  trick- 
on  tables  entirely  free  of  drapery,  intending  to  have  the 
flowers  thrust  up  from  below  the  moment  the  cone  touch- 
ed the  stage.  The  idea  was,  no  doubt,  good;  but  the  first 
niirht.  when  the  performer  gracefully  dropped  the  cone,  ,i 
trap  opened  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stage,  and  a  flower 
hush  was  thrust  up  in  full  sight  of  the  amused  and  amazed 
audience.  It  is  needless  to  add  that  the  little  mishap  set- 
tled that  improvement. 


FRANZ  SCHUBERT. 

BY  MRS.  JOHN  LILLIE. 

EAK'LY  in  this  century  the  village  .school-master  of 
Lichenthal.  near  Vienna,  had  a  very  troublesome  pu- 
pil. He  \\as  a  boy  of  about  nine  years  old,  with  eager 
eyes,  a  quick,  active  figure,  and  a  gay  little  laugh  that, 
low-sounding  as  il  \\as.  usually  upset  the  gravity  of  the 
school  room.  I'.ut  the  boy's  fun  was  not  the  only  thing 
thai  troubled  the  master.  In  and  out  of  hours,  between 
lessons  m  iieo'jraphy  and  arithmetic— indeed,  whenever  he 
could  la\  hold  of  the  necessary  articles  —little  Fran/.  Schu- 
bert was  al  nays  scribbling  music.  He  seemed  full  of  mu- 
sical ideas,  and  he  fell  I  he  necessity  of  w  riling  them  down  ; 
so  I  do  not  doubt  that  his  old  tattered  school  books  would 
lie  very  precious  treasures  if  we  possessed  them  now,  nith 
crotchets  and  quavers  dancing  in  and  out  of  nine  limes 
si  \  en  and  tin  rivers  and  questions  of  his  geography. 

Fortunately  little  Fran/.'s  teacher  nas  also  his  father, 
old  M.Schubert  hem-  the  school  teacher  of  Lichenthal. 
Troubled  as  he  mi^ht  have  been  about  the  boy's  restless 
n  ay  s.  he  \  et  appreciated  his  genius,  and  in  after  years  was 
accustomed  to  sax  of  him.  "He  was  always  lirsl  among 
his  fellow-students."  There  had  been  a  large  family  of 
Schubcrls.  This  little  Fran/,  born  in  17:17.  was  one  of 
eighteen  children:  but  they  had  nearly  all  died  young, 
and  so  Fran/,  was  unusually  dear  to  the  father. 

In  i  hose  day  s  in  Germany,  as  soon  as  a  hoy  showed  any 

genius  for  music  he  was  made  to  sing  in  the  choir,  and 
also  lo  study  the  violin.  So  Fran/,  did  both,  and  he  uas 
so  successful  that  before  lie  nas  fifteen  he  was  Mrs!  violin 
in  the  orchestra.  Later  in  life  he  bitterly  deplored  the 
fact  that  when  he  was  young  he  had  not  more  perfectly 
studied  thorough  bass  or  counterpoint.  Everything  he 
did  in  music  as  a  child  nas  so  startling  and  precocious 
that  I  suppose  the  happy  old  father  fell  too  well  satisfied. 
While  he  was  al  the  Free  Grammar  School,  the  lad  was 

<-onstant  h  n  rit  ing  music,  and  turned  oil'  all  sorts  of  work, 
g I.  bad.  and  indifferent,  much  of  which  used  lo  be  per- 
formed on  the  evening  of  the  very  day  on  nh it'll  it  was 

written. 

It  was  in  isle,  u  hen  Schubert  nas  sixteen,  that,  he  left 
the  grammar  school  and  returned  to  his  father's  house, 
where  he  had  the  rather  dreary  occupation  of  teaching 
small  children.  Hut  all  this  time  he  continued  to  com- 
pose. The  school  boys,  fond  of  playing  practical  jokes, 
Used  to  sei/.e  and  hide  all  sorts  of  articles  belonging  to 
Fran/.,  and  enjoy  the  half  angry,  half  good  humored  way 
in  which  he  would  hunt  for  them.  But  something  made 
them  fear  even  to  touch  his  music.  There  seemed  to  be 
something  too  sacred  about  it  for  their  fun  or  frolic,  and 
so  the  young  teacher  could  leave  his  bits  of  writing  on  his 
desk,  knowing  they  were  safe  from  the  tricks  of  the  rough, 
merry  little  pupils. 

He  had  a  small  room  of  his  own  in  his  father's  house. 
It  was  very  poorly  furnished,  yet  he  had  his  books  and 
musical  works  there,  his  violin  and  piano.  One  cold  and 
rainy  afternoon  he  sat  down  after  school-hours  to  refresh 
himself  with  reading.  The  book  he  picked  up  was  a  vol- 
ume of  Goethe's  poems,  among  them  "The  Erl  King,  "and 
on  reading  it  the  voung  musician's  brain  seemed  to  burn 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


with  a  desire  to  put  the  words  to  music.  He  read,  and  he 
seemed  to  see  the  whole  picture,  and  before  leaving  his 
room,  while  the  wind  and  rain  beat  against  his  windows, 
he  wrote  down  the  song  that  we  all  have  now,  never  ma- 
terially altering  one  note  or  beat  in  it. 

The  song  describes  the  ride  of  a  father  and  child  through 
a  forest.  The  child  lies  in  his  father's  arms,  and  in  I  lie 
darkness  hears  the  voice  of  the  Erl  King-,  a  phantom 
creature,  calling  to  him  to  come  and  live  with  him.  He 
speaks  in  terror  to  his  father,  who  tells  him  to  be  quiet. 
It  is  only  the  sound  of  the  wind  through  withered  leaves; 
but  again  and  again  the  child  hears  the  dread  voice  urging 
him  on. 

"  Oh,  father,  the  Erl  Kins  now  puts  forth  his  arm ! 
Oh,  lather,  the  Erl  King  has  done  me  harm !" 


SCHUBERT    SEARCHING    FOR   THE    ARTICLES    HIS    FELLOW-STUDENTS    HAVE   HIDDEN. 


The  father  shudders,  and  finds  his  child  dead  in  his 
arms.  Wild  and  fascinating  as  are  the  verses  of  Goethe, 
Schubert's  music  is  more  so.  The  next  time  you  play  it 
read  it  line  by  line,  and  fit  the  meaning  of  each  chord  to 
the  strange  words  of  the  verse. 

In  1817  Schubert,  who  had  made  several  warm  friends, 
was  induced  to  give  up  teaching  little  boys,  and  to  live  with 
his  chosen  associate,  a  clever,  interesting  man  named  Scho- 
ber.  This  gentleman  was  a  bachelor,  and  had  a  pleasant  lit- 
tle household,  at  the  head  of  which  was  his  mother.  Schu- 
bert was  welcomed  heartily,  and  in  the  simple  little  house 
he  drew  a  circle  about  him  every  member  of  which  was 
worth  knowing.  He  himself  had  become  rather  mel- 
ancholy in  his  mode  of  thought.  He  had  nothing  in  his 
personal  appearance  to  attract  people  toward  him,  but  so 
many  cared  for  him  that  his  friendship  must  have  been 
well  worth  having.  He  was  fond  of  playing  duets,  and  it 
is  said  that  all  his  brusquerie  would  disappear  under  the 
spell  of  music.  But  in  general  society  he  was  often  neglect- 
ed, although  by  this  time  his  songs  had  begun  to  be  publish- 
ed and  were  well  received.  Beethoven  pored  over  them  in 
his  last  days,  declaring  "this  Schubert"  to  be  a  genius. 


and  regretting  that  he  and  Schubert  had  not  been  nearer 
friends ;  but  the  fact  was  that  when  Schubert  went  to  visit 
the  great  master,  shyness  or  nervousness  so  overcame  him 
that  he  returned  home  greatly  annoyed  with  himself. 

Schubert  had  only  one  romance  in  his  life,  but  it  lasted 
al  ways.  One  winter  in  Vienna,  while  teaching  the  daugh- 
ters of  Count  Esterhazy,  he  fell  in  love  with  Caroline,  the 
younger  and  most  gifted  of  the  two.  He  said  nothing 
then  of  his  attachment  to  his  sweet  young  pupil,  but  lie 
was  glad  to  accept  an  invitation  to  the  Count's  castle  in 
Hungary.  There  he  wrote  many  of  his  favorite  songs — 
all,  it  is  said,  inspired  by  Caroline  and  his  love  for  her. 
But  the  young  girl  complained  to  him  that  he  never  ili'ili 
/•n/<  il  anything  to  her. 

' '  Ah !"  exclaimed  poor  Schubert,  ' '  you  have  it  all !" 

He  seems  never  to  have 
thought  it  likely  she  would 
consent  to  marry  him,  and 
so  he  loved  on  in  silence 
while  Caroline  married. 
It  is  thought  that  the  elder 
sister,  a  gentle,  tender  crea- 
ture, and  his  confidante, 
loved  Schubert  herself.  Al- 
though all  music -loving 
people  know  and  care  for 
Schubert  to-day,  he  had  bit- 
ter struggles  in  his  own  life- 
time, and  both  publishers 
and  artists  often  failed  to 
appreciate  him.  Perhaps 
this,  as  well  as  the  sadness 
of  his  love-story,  increased 
the  melancholy  in  his  work, 
and  made  him  care  little  to 
live.  During  Beethoven's 
last  illness  Schubert  was 
often  at  his  bedside  with 
other  friends,  and  they  used 
to  think  that  during  those 
sad,  speechless  hours  Bee- 
thoven longed  to  speak  to 
Schubert,  whose  work  In- 
had  only  just  begun  to  real- 
ly know  when  his  fatal  ill 
ness  came.  The  night  of 
Beethoven's  funeral  Schu- 
bert joined  some  friends 
in  a  tavern,  when,  "after 
the  German  fashion,  they 
drank  to  the  soul  of  the 

great  man  they  had  so  lately  borne  to  the  tomb.  It  was 
then  proposed  to  drink  to  the  one  of  them  who  should  be 
the  first  to  follow  him;  and  hastily  filling  up  the  cup, 
Schubert  drank  to  himself."* 

But  he  lived  to  add  one  great  work  to  all  the  rest.  This 
was  the  Symphony  in  C,  never  to  be  heard  without  re- 
membering that  the  sweetest  song-writer  was  among  the 
grandest  of  workers  for  an  orchestr-a.  He  gave  a  grand 
concert  soon  after  composing  this  symphony.  He  was  ill, 
he  was  tired;  he  longed  to  go  for  a  little  while  to  the  Ester- 
hazys,  where  the  young  Countess  Marie,  his  Caroline's  sis- 
ter, often,  thought  of  him  as  she  wandered  among  the  hills 
he  knew  and  loved  so  well.  But  there  was  almost  110 
money  in  his  purse,  and  his  health  was  giving  way.  It 
was  in  the  autumn  of  that  year,  1828,  that  he  expired  at  the 
early  age  of  thirty-one. 

They  buried  him  near  Beethoven,  and  on  his  tomb  is 
inscribed. 

"  Music  buried  here  a  rieli  possession,  and  yet  fairer  hopes." 

*  Ilau. 


it,  ; 


' 

• 

I    - 

:• 

I 


M 

•' 


•LITTLE    DAME    TKoT.  ' 


0 


IN    A    FOG. 

BY  A  MIDSHIPMAN. 

N   a    fine   morning   her   Majesty's    frigate    M— 


which  I  was  serving  as  a  midshipman,  left  Halifax, 
Nova  Scotia,  for  Bcrnuula. 

We  had  entered  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  were  quietly  sail- 
ing along,  when  our  signal  midshipman  reported  a  Danish 
bark  in  distress  on  the  weather  how.  and  received  orders 
to  ask  her  name,  and  how  we  could  assist  her. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  hunting  fluttered  at  our  mast-head, 
and  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  stranger.  There  was 
some  delay,  as  merchant  vessels  are  not  generally  very 


apt  at  signals.  At  last  the  reply  came:  "Copenhagen; 
in  want  of  water  and  provisions." 

"Martin,"  cried  our  captain,  addressing  the  senior  lieu- 
tenant. "  let  Mr.  Edwards  lake  my  galley,  and  see  what 
that  vessel  requires,  and  have  one  of  the  cutters  ready  to 
carry  what  he  linds  she  nia\  want.  By-the-bye,  you'd 
better  let  an  assistant  surgeon  accompany  him. 

In  accordance  with  these  orders,  our  skipper's  six-oared 
gig  was  manned,  and  Dr.  Simple  and  I,  having  received 
instructions,  proceeded  to  board  the  Copenhagen,  find  out 
what  she  wanted,  and  signal  back  to  our  ship.  We,  how- 
ever, carried  with  us  a  small  quantity  of  pork,  some  bis- 
cuits, a  little  wine  and  lime-juice,  as  well  as  some  vege- 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


tables  from  the  officers'  mess,  the  doctor  taking  a  few 
medical  comforts. 

The  bark  was  about  two  miles  off,  and  as  we  had  our 
fires  banked,  and  were  under  canvas  only,  our  captain 
made  no  attempt  to  "close"  her;  besides,  it  was  but  a 
short  pull  in  his  fast  galley.  Still,  we  were  astonished  at 
the  merchant  vessel  making  no  attempt  to  come  nearer, 
particularly  as  she  was  well  to  windward. 

We  soon  reached  the  vessel,  a  fine,  well-found  craft. 
On  her  deck  lay  her  helpless  crew  in  the  last  stage  of 
starvation,  her  captain  being  apparently  the  only  man 
with  sufficient  energy  to  speak  to  us.  I  have  seen  starva- 
tion in  many  forms,  but  never  in  so  ghastly  a  shape  as  on 
board  that  vessel. 

"Hand  up  the  provisions,  and  bear  a  hand,"  I  cried, 
and  began  serving  out  the  small  supply  we  had  with  us. 
There  was  a  strange,  eager  silence  as  each  man's  wants 
were  attended  to. 

The  doctor  was  also  employed  applying  such  remedies 
as  he  happened  to  have  with  him,  while  my  cockswain 
signaled  to  the  frigate  for  what  was  needed. 

So  much  taken  up  was  I  witli  these  occupations  that  I 
took  note  of  nothing  else,  until,  having  completed  what  I 
was  about,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  a  strange  haze  form- 
ing to  windward.  In  ten  minutes  from  the  time  I  had  no- 
ticed it  we  were  enveloped  in  a  dense  fog,  or  rather  vapor 
cloud,  which  hung  round  the  bark,  and  for  a  time  brought 
on  a  feeling  similar  to  that  on  going  into  a  Turkish  bath. 

Having  lost  sight  of  the  frigate,  I  endeavored  to  com- 
municate with  her  by  sound  signal.  I  first  tried  a  fog- 
horn, but  it  had  not  been  taken  care  of,  so  I  could  only  get 
a  grunt  out  of  it.  I  next  experimented  on  the  bark's  bell, 
but  it  was  a  miserable  article — cracked,  and  all  but  useless. 
All  this  time  we  could  hear  our  ship's  steam-whistle,  with 
which  she  was  trying  to  communicate;  but  as  we  could 
not  reply  to  it,  we  only  had  the  mortification  of  knowing 
by  it  growing  fainter  that  she  was  leaving  us.  Such  be- 
ing the  state  of  affairs,  I  proceeded  to  see  how  we  stood  in 
the  way  of  provisions,  and  found  that  all  had  been  ex- 
pended except  the  usual  supply  carried  by  all  man-of-war 
boats  when  at  sea,  which  would  only  be  two  days'  allow- 
ance for  seven  men,  and  not  a  decent  meal  for  half  the 
crew  of  the  Dane,  let  alone  ourselves.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, I  determined  to  lay  the  bark  to,  feeling  certain 
that  our  captain  would  do  the  same,  and  that  we  should 
linil  the  M at  no  great  distance  when  the  fog  lifted. 

By  this  time,  it  being  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the 
galley  was  hauled  up,  and  a  meagre  repast  partaken  of  by 
both  ollicers  and  men.  We  were  not  troubled  by  the  mer- 
chant seamen,  as  whatever  medicine  or  stimulant  the  doc- 
tor had  given  them  had  put  them  in  a  sound  sleep,  from 
which  they  did  not  awake  until  close  on  night-fall. 

But  when  they  did,  they  were  in  the  most  ravenous 
state,  loudly  demanding  food.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  Give 
them  our  remaining  provisions?  There  was  only  such  a 
small  quantity;  what  would  it  be  amongst  thirty  men,  the 
number  of  the  Dane's  crew  ? 

I  now  directed  my  men  in  a  low  tone  of  voice  to  be  on 
the  alert,  and  that  they  must  at  all  risks  prevent  the  pro- 
visions from  being  taken.  Whether  the  Danish  sailors 
understood  me  or  not,  I  can  not  say;  but,  at  any  rate,  it 
was  evident  that  they  thought  there  was  a  good  stock  of 
provisions  in  our  boat.  Arguing  with  them  was  all  to  no 
purpose.  Have  the  provisions,  they  declared,  they  would, 
and  at  once! 

I  saw  that  there  was  likely  to  be  trouble ;  that  whatever 
stimulant  Simple  had  given  them  had  imbued  them  with 
a  certain  amount  of  artificial  strength,  along  with  a  good 
deal  of  "  Dutch  courage,"  and  that  it  would  be  necessary 
to  act  promptly,  even  though  violence  might  be  called  for. 

At  this  crisis  a  thought  struck  me.  Watching  for  the 
most  prominent  of  the  agitators,  my  eye  fell  on  one  whom 
to  this  day  I  believe  to  have  been  an  Englishman.  Step- 


ping quickly  up  to  him,  and  drawing  my  dirk,  I  seized  him 
by  the  collar,  and  the  next  moment  he  was  a  prisoner.  I 
then  told  the  others  that  if  they  showed  any  further  signs 
of  insubordination  I  would  hang  their  shipmate  at  the 
yard-arm.  Of  course  this  was  only  a  threat,  and  I  scarcely 
knew  how  it  would  result. 

The  Danes  showed  dissatisfaction  at  their  comrade  be- 
ing arrested,  but  after  clamoring  awhile,  went  forward, 
and  below  into  their  vessel's  forepeak.  I  felt  certain  it  was 
only  to  deliberate,  and  perhaps  return  more  determined 
than  ever.  An  idea  had  suggested  itself  on  seeing  them 
leave  the  upper  deck,  and  whispering  instructions  to  my 
cockswain,  we  silently  and  hastily  ran  forward,  and  clap- 
ping on  the  forepeak  hatch,  at  once  secured  it  with  its 
coaming  bar.  We  had  them  safe  as  in  a  trap. 

I  now  divided  my  men  into  two  watches,  Simple  and  I 
taking  charge  of  them.  In  this  way  an  anxious  night  was 
spent. 

Morning  found  us  still  enveloped  in  fog,  and  we  be- 
gan to  feel  our  position  more  than  ever  perilous,  particu- 
larly as  the  doctor,  who  had  kept  the  middle  watch  (12  to 
4  A.M.),  reported  that  he  had  not  heard  a  single  gun.  The 
last  one  had  been  "logged"  about  eleven  o'clock  the  night 
before.  Still,  judging  from  appearances,  I  had  every  hope 
that  the  breeze  would  freshen,  and  the  fog  clear  off  about 
noon.  Nor  was  I  disappointed.  About  half  past  eleven 
it  lifted,  and  we  could  see  the  horizon  all  around.  The 
horizon,  but  nothing  more. 

No  frigate ! 

Here  we  were  on  the  wide  ocean,  in  the  same  situation 
as  the  crew  we  had  come  to  rescue  from  distress  and  star- 
vation, and,  if  anything,  in  a  worse  position  ;  for  we  knew 
not  what  these  desperate  men  might  lie  tempted  to  do. 

A  moment's  relleetion  brought  before  us  the  real  peril 
of  the  situation.  It  was  truly  appalling.  We  had  still  a 
few  biscuits  and  a  little  rum.  The  food  given  the  Danes 
had  only  increased  their  suffering,  and  the  cries  coming 
through  the  closed  hatch  were  heart-rending. 

All  day  long  we  kept  a  lookout  for  our  ship,  but  she 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen;  and  as  the  sun  went  down  our 
hearts  sank  with  it.  We  ourselves  began  to  realize  the 
pangs  of  hunger  in  all  its  dread  misery. 

Another  night  passed ;  again  the  sun  rose  in  its  glorious 
autumnal  splendor,  ushering  in  to  many  all  that  was  bright 
and  beautiful,  but  to  us  hunger  and  desolation. 

The  unfortunate  Danes  had  been  silent  for  some  hours. 
Our  hearts  smote  us  as  we  thought  of  them.  But  their 
safety  as  well  as  our  own  depended  on  our  avoiding  any- 
thing- like  a  collision  with  them,  so  I  had  to  keep  them 
imprisoned.  Besides,  we  had  now  nothing  in  the  way  of 
food  to  give  them ;  our  last  biscuit  was  gone.  At  this  crisis 
the  lookout  at  the  mast-head  sung  out  in  a  clear  voice  that 
rang  cheerily  in  our  ears  the  startling  words,  ' '  Sail,  ho !" 

Seizing  my  telescope,  I  rushed  to  the  mast-head.  With 
some  little  difficulty  I  could  make  out  a  ship's  royals  on 
our  lee  beam,  my  experience  telling  me  they  were  those 
of  a  war  vessel.  Hailing  the  deck,  I  ordered  sails  to  be 
trimmed,  and  the  ( 'n/H'iiltagen's  course  to  be  shaped  for 
the  other  vessel. 

In  about  an  hour  I  could  distinguish  our  "chase"  to  the 
first  reefs  in  her  topsails,  and  felt  certain,  from  the  rake  of 
her  masts,  that  she  was  a  frigate.  Just  as  I  made  this  dis- 
covery a  cry  came  from  the  deck,  and  on  looking  down  I 
saw  our  men  trying  to  prevent  the  bark's  crew  from  com- 
ing on  deck  through  the  after-cabin  companion  way.  Not 
waiting  to  ask  myself  how  they  could  have  got  aft,  I 
seized  one  of  the  main-royal  back-stays,  and  was  on  deck 
in  a  few  seconds.  The  struggle  was  for  a  time  desperate, 
but  the  poor  starved  remnants  of  humanity  had  little 
chance  with  man-of-war's  men,  and  in  a  few  moments  we 
had  them  again  safe  under  hatches. 

Suddenly  a  hail  came  from  Simple,  who  had  taken  my 
place  aloft:  "Hark!  That's  a  gun." 


NdVKMliK!;   -21.  1882. 


HAKPEPJS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


43 


As  he  spoke  :i  dull  booming  sound  came  across  the 
ocean  wave,  ai'am  .-mil  airain  repeated,  until  it  spelled  out 
the  name  of  our  frigate. 

The  scene  that  followed  is  beyond  description:  we  were 
sighted,  and  l>y  our  own  ship.  Officers  and  men  forgot 
the  difference  ()f  rank,  and  grasped  each  other's  hands  in 
grim,  silent  congratulation. 

Some  laughed,  others  sang,  and  Simple  wanted  to  re- 
lease our  prisoners:  but  this  I  would  not  allow:  they  had 
but  a  short  time  to  wait,  and  then  they  would  be  set  free, 
with  a  good  meal  before  them.  How  different  were  our 
feelings  under  the  setting  sun  to  those  experienced  at  its 
rising!  We  were  once  more  on  hoard  our  ship.  We  had 
been  in  a  position  of  great  peril,  from  which  we  had  been 
most  providentially  rescued,  and  had  also  been  the  means 
of  saving  the  Danes  from  almost  certain  death. 


NAN.* 


BY    MRS.  JOHN    I.ILI.IH, 
AUTHOR  op  "MILDRED'S  P..M:I.UV"  "  \i  NT  Ki  iii'<  TEMPTATION."  ETC. 


CIIAITKI:   VII. 

NAN"  spent  the  next  week  ill  a  perfect  whirl.  Had  any- 
thing been  left  to  her  wisdom,  or  her  decision,  even, 
I  am  afraid  the  result  would  have  worried  Miss  Phyllis 
Eolf  very  much  ;  but  that  young  lady  took  everything  \  6TJ 
calmly  into  her  own  hands,  and  Nan  soon  learned  to  lind 
it  both  an  easy  and  agreeable  task  to  obey  her. 

XaturalK  Nan  wanted  to  go  and  see  the  Ruperts  but 
this  visit  was  put  oil'  day  after  day:  and  finally  it  \\as 
Mrs.  Rupert  who,  with  Marian,  broke  the  ice  and  came  up 
to  see  Nan. 

It  happened  in  this  way:  I  Iivak  last  \\;,s  over.  Nan 
had.  as  usual,  established  herself  in  the  \\indo\vseat  of 
the  little  sitting  room  with  a  hook,  and  was  wondering 
what  new  excitement  the  da  \  \\oiild  bring  forth,  when,  on 
looking  up  from  the  pa  ire  before  her,  she  saw  tuo  liunres 
enter  the  gate.  In  an  instant  she  recognixed  Mrs.  Rupert 
and  Marian. 

Only  three  times  in  her  life  could  she  remember  having 
seen  her  a  nut  so  gorgeous  I  \  all  ired.  so  that  she  knew  Mrs. 
llupert  fell  this  to  he  an  important  occasion;  but  after 
spending  even  a  week  with  M  rs.  ( i  range  and  Phyllis,  how 
gaudy  Mrs.  Rupert's  shawl  and  bonnet  looked!  Xan  in- 
voluntarily shuddered,  and  then,  whether  it  was  a  half- 
lonesome  or  half-ashamed  feeling  she  could  not  tell,  but 
she  began  to  cry. 

La  nee  was  out  in  the  hall,  pulling  to  pieces  some  me- 
chanical toy  he  had  bought.  N'au  dashed  out  to  him. 

"  My  aunt  and   Marian  are  here!"  she  exclaimed. 

Lance's  eyes  fai  rly  da  need. 

"<>h.  what  fun  I"  he  said.  "I'd  give  a  dollar  to  see 
Phyllis  meet  them." 

"But,  Lance,"  said  Nan,  "it,  isn't — such  fun."  She 
barely  knew  what  to  say,  and  turned  around  as  she  saw 
some  one  coming  up  the  staircase.  It  was  Phyllis.  She 
came  over  to  the  two  children,  and  said  very  gravely : 

"Nan,  I  want  you  to  come  down-stairs  and  see  your 
aunt;  and"— Phyllis  looked  at  her  earnestly—"!  hope 
you  remember  all  I  have  said  ?  There  must  be  no  offer  of 
intimacy.'' 

Nan  stood  very  still,  looking  up  into  Phyllis's  beautiful, 
haughty  face. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  nodding  her  head  gravely. 

"  See" — Phyllis  looked  carefully  at  her  dress.  "  Come 
in  here  and  put  011  something  else." 

To  Nan  dressing  had  become  a  perfect  delight,  for  never 
before  had  she  thought  of  owning  such  clothes.  She  fol- 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


lowed  Phyllis  into  her  room,  and  waited  while  that  young 
lady  turned  over  various  things.  In  the  course  of  the 
week  four  new  dresses  had  come  home  for  Nan,  and  from 
these  Phyllis,  with  a  little  laugh,  chose  the  brightest  and 
prettiest — indeed,  the  only  silk  one  among  them — a  soft 
blue  silk,  made  simply  enough,  but  richer  than  anything 
Nan  hail  ever  thought  of  as  her  own.  It  seemed  odd  to 
wear  her  best  dress  in  the  morning,  yet,  as  Nan  followed 
her  cousin  down-stairs,  she  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  think 
her  aunt  and  Marian  should  see  her  splendor. 

Mrs.  Rupert,  with  her  daughter,  was  sitting  in  the  long 
parlor.  They  had  come  determined  to  reproach  little  Nan 
with  neglect  of  them — indeed,  if  need  be,  to  say  something 
harsh  to  that  fine  young  lady.  Miss  Rolf;  but  the  elegance 
and  quiet  of  the  long  room,  with  its  pictures  and  books  and 
soft  hangings,  quite  overcame  them.  They  sat  very  still 
on  the  edge  of  their  chairs,  looking  at  each  other  and  at  the 
door,  and  only  raising  their  voices  to  whispers.  Marian, 
if  the  truth  were  known,  was  inclined  to  be  rather  detiant, 
when  Nan  appeared,  but  Mi's.  Rupert  kept  looking  at  her 
menacingly  every  time  she  gave  her  head  a  pert  little  toss. 

"  Keep  quiet,'  she  said,  just  as  N'an  and  Miss  Rolf  ap- 
peared: and  then  she  looked  up,  and  on  seeing  Nan  come 
up  the  beautiful  room  in  her  blue  silk  dress,  with  lace  in 
the  neck  ami  sleeves,  and  shining  kid  boots,  and  her  hair 
prettily  brushed,  she  drew  a  long  breath,  and  exclaimed, 

"  \Vell.  by  the  pouers  above,  he  that  Nan  Rolf  f 

Even  the  line  house  and  the  beautiful  Miss  Phyllis  were 
forgotten.  Mrs.  Rupert  sat  still,  staring  at  her  little  step- 
niece  ;  and  it  was  Phyllis  who  came  to  every  ones  relief. 

"Sit  dou  ii.  A  1 1  n  ice."  she  said,  ill  her  gentlest  lone,  and 
then,  smiling  very  pleasantly,  she  continued:  "You  see, 
Mrs.  Rupert,  I  could  not  very  well  let  Nan  go  away.  .There 
u  ere  M>  many  things  to  gel  for  her;  her  life  is  going  to  be 
Mich  a  busy  one.  studyingand  all  that"  here  Phyllis  just 
glanced  at  Nan's  line  dress  "I  here  would,  I  knew,  be  no 
time  to  buy  her  things  in  Beverley." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Miss  Rolf  continued :  "Nan, 
take  your  cousin  upstairs.  I  will  talk  to  Mrs.  Rupert." 

And  Nan  obeyed.  She  and  Marian  found  very  little  to 
say  to  each  other  in  the  luxurious  sitting-room  upstairs. 
Marian  was  still  deliant.and  Nan  was  nervous  and  trou- 
bled; so  they  talked  of  very  uninteresting  things,  and 
Xan  could  hardly  put  anything'  into  words.  She  asked 
for  Philip,  and  begged  that  he  might  come  and  see  her. 

"I  don't  like  to  go  out  without  Cousin  Phyllis's  per- 
mission," she  faltered. 

Marian  hurst  out  laughing. 

"Oh,  you're  a  line  lady  now,  Nan!"  she  said;  "too 
good  for  us.  that's  easily  seen."  and  she  gave  Nan's  dress 
a  twitch. 

Xan  hardly  knew  what  to  say.  She  was  neither  un- 
Lj-ralel'ul  nor  hard-hearted,  but  she  was  bewildered  and 
perplexed.  It  was  a  relief  when  Phyllis  sent  for  her. 
Even  when  Mrs.  Rupert  and  Marian  said  good  by,  she 
did  not  know  what,  to  say,  and  so  she  said  nothing;  but 
she  cried  as  she  kissed  her  aunt,  even  though  she  saw 
Phyllis  was  annoyed  by  it. 

And  no  more  was  said  of  her  going  to  visit  the  Ruperts, 
that  morning  being  the  only  good-by  attempted. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

No  one  must  suppose  that  Nan  did  not  regret  leaving 
her  aunt's  family  with  so  little  ceremony.  She  really 
longed  to  spend  a  whole  day  with  them,  but  by  the  time 
she  had  been  ten  days  at  "The  Willows"  she  had  learned 
to  do  just  what  Phyllis  told  her  was  best,  without  think- 
ing much  for  herself.  Only  once  did  she  resent  her  cous- 
in's authority,  and  that  was  when  she  was  told  by  Phyllis 
she  ought  not  to  talk  so  much  of  Philip  to  Lance. 

"  But  I  could  only  talk  good  of  my  cousin  Philip,"  Nan 
said,  a  little  defiantly. 


44 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


vol. mi:  iv. 


"No  doubt,"  rejoined  Phyllis,  with  perfect  good-humor ; 
"but  Lance  can't  know  such  a  boy;  and,  Nan,  Lance  has 
some  low  tastes  of  the  kind,  as  it  is." 

And  then  Nan  flashed  out, 

"Oh,  Cousin  Phyllis,"  she  exclaimed,  "how  dare 
you!  Philip  is  not  low;  he  could  not  be;  he  is  better — 
far,  far  kinder  and  smarter— and  cri'ri/lli/ni/  even  than 
Lance,  who  will,  I  suppose,  one  day  be  a  fine  g'eiitle- 
man." 

And  in  spite  of  Phyllis's  set,  stern  look,  Nan  dashed  out 
of  the  room  and  into  her  own  little  cozy  nest,  where  she 
stopped,  panting  for  breath.  It  was  Sunday  night.  She 
was  to  leave  the  next  day  for  Beverley,  and,  sitting  on  her 
little  bed,  she  determined,  come  what  would,  to  see  Philip 
and  bid  him  good-by  for  herself.  But  how  could  it  be 


"  '  WHATEVER    HAPPENS,  I   NEVER,  NEVER    WILL    FORGET    YOU. 


accomplished?  Of  course  she  was  not  a  prisoner ;  but  she 
hardly  felt  it  right  to  do  anything  that  she  knew  Phyllis 
would  have  sternly  forbidden.  Still,  her  cheeks  burned 
at  the  thought  of  what  Philip  might  say  of  her,  if  he  knew 
she  had  left  forever  with  not  one  word  to  her  old  play- 
fellow. And  then  came  the  remembrance  of  all  Philip's 
kindness:  how  many  times  he  had  saved  her  a  scolding-, 
even  a  whipping;  the  hooks  he  had  bought  her  with  his 
hardly  earned  pocket-money.  Looking  back,  alt  her  few 
luxuries  or  pleasures  seemed  to  have  come  through  her 
cousin's  goodness  and  unselfishness.  "Not  that  he  hasn't 
been  horrid  and  cross  enough  sometimes,"  thought  little 
Nan,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  and  allowing  her  tears 
to  fall  on  her  "  second-best"  dress  quite  unchecked.  "But 
he  always  was  good  to  me,  really  ;"  and  this  decision  seem- 


ed to  put  an  end  to  any  idea  of  what  she  owed  to  Phyllis. 
She  rose  up  very  softly,  and  took  out  her  new  hat  and 
jacket,  and  put  them  on.  Then,  with  one  glance  at  Phyl- 
lis's open  door,  she  rushed  swiftly  down  the  hall  and  the 
back  staircase,  whence  she  knew  it  would  be  easy  to  make 
her  escape.  It  was  about  seven  o'clock.  People  were 
slowly  going  on  their  way  to  church.  Nan  thought  she 
would  risk  finding  Philip  at  home,  for  Mrs.  Rupert  never 
left  the  house  and  store  entirely  alone,  and  it  was  usually 
Marian  whom  her  mother  decided  to  take  with  her  in  the 
evening.  She  had  a  general  idea  that  Philip,  being  a  bov. 
might  get  into  mischief  if  he  went  out  in  the  evening,  and 
to  Philip  these  hours  of  solitude  with  his  minerals  and 
shells  and  books  were  most  welcome. 

Nan  sped  along  the  well-known  streets  as  fast  as  she 
dared,  and  reached  the  butter  and  cheese 
store  with  a  sense  of  relief,  for  thus  far  all 
was  right.  A  solitary  light  was  burning 
in  the  little  sitting-room,  where  she  had 
sat  for  the  last  time  only  ten  days  before; 
yet  how  long  ago  it  seemed!  Nan  stood 
still  a  moment  in  the  garden,  and  then, 
going  up  to  the  side-door,  slowly  turned 
the  handle.  She  went  along  the  short  cor- 
ridor, and  very  gently  opened  the  sitting- 
room  door.  She  had  guessed  right.  Phil- 
ip was  alone — sitting  in  the  usual  disorder, 
with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  his  hands  on 
his  head,  absorbed  in  a  book. 

"Philip!"  Nan  half  whispered.  The 
hoy  started,  looked  at  Nan  in  a  bewildered 
way,  and  then  jumped  to  his  feet. 

"Nan!"  he  exclaimed,  "come  in.  I  am 
glad  you  came.  Ain't  you  going  away, 
after  all,  with  your  fine  relations  ?" 

"Oh  yes,"  Nan  answered,  just  a  little 
dolefully.  "I'm  going — to-morrow;  and 
I  came — I  ran  away,  Phil,  to  say  good-by 
to  you.  I  guessed  you'd  be  alone." 

"You're  a  trump,  Nan,"  said  the  boy, 
delightedly.  "Oh,  ain't  you  going  to 
write  to  me  about  everything?" 

Nan  looked  pained;  but  Philip  did  not 
see  her  expression,  for  he  had  begun  to 
rummage  among  his  shells. 

' '  See  here,  Nan, "  he  said,  turning  around 
before  she  answered;  "  here's  the  old  pink 
shell  we  used  to  make  a  boat  of.  There ! 
you  can  have  it  all  for  yourself  now — a 
remembrance,  don't  you  see  ?" 

Nan's  bright  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
She  took  the  shell,  and  nodded  softly. 

"Thank  you,  Philip  dear.      I'm  afraid 
I  mustn't  stay.      I  must  say  good-by  now, 
or  they'll  come  after  me.      Thank  you  so 
much,  Phil;  and  remember,  whatever  hap- 
pens, I  never,  never  will  forget  you.    And 
I'll  always  love  you." 
And  honest-hearted   little  Nan   squeezed   Phil   around 
the  neck  warmly,  and  before  another  word  was  said  had 
fled  away. 

Going  up  the  street,  she  rejoiced  that  she  had  so  success- 
fully accomplished  her  errand;  yet  another  idea  had  come 
to  her  mind.  Probably  no  one  at  "The  Willows"  would 
be  any  the  wiser  for  her  little  flight;  but  would  it  not  be 
what  Lance  would  have  called  "squarer"  to  go  herself 
and  tell  Phyllis  '.  Nan's  nature,  impulsive  and  full  of 
faults  though  it  might  be,  was  honest  and  true  in  every 
fibre,  and  it  did  not  take  her  long  to  come  to  a  decision  as 
to  what  was  right.  She  made  her  way  noi-rlessly  in  at 
the  side  entrance  without  being  discovered,  but  once  in  the 
upper  hall  she  went  boldly  to  her  cousin's  door.  Phyllis 
had  not  stirred  from  the  easy-chair  in  which  Nan  had  left 


NOVEMBER  21,  1SS2. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


her.  The  light  from  the  lamp  on  a  table  near  her  showed 
Nan  a  very  different  room  from  the  shabby  parlor  in 
which  she  had  just  said  good-by  to  Philip,  and  as  the  lit- 
tle girl  went  in,  she  had  a  queer  sort  of  feeling  that  she 
had  said  good-by  to  shabbiness  and  dirt  and  disorder  for- 
ever. But  something  else  was  struggling  within  her,  as  she 
looked  at  Phyllis's  fair,  beautiful,  cold  face.  "I  haven't 
said  good-by  to  my  conscience,  anyway,"  she  was  think- 
ing; and  with  a  brave  resolve  she  walked  vtp  to  her  cous- 
in's side. 

"Cousin  Phyllis,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  "I've  been 
down  to  Aunt  Rupert's  and  seen  Philip,  and  said  good-by 
to  him.  I  knew  you  wouldn't  like  it,  but  I'm  not — sorry 
I  did  it."  And  here  Nan's  voice  broke,  and  she  burst  into 
tears. 

For  an  instant  Phyllis  felt  very  angry.  Then,  before 
she  spoke,  the  honesty  of  the  child  touched  her.  It  touch- 
ed her,  but  not  as  the  same  thing  would  have  touched  my 
little  Nan.  The  brilliant  young  lady  had  to  admire  the 
child's  fearlessness,  yet  she  also  thought  quickly  how  re- 
ceiving  her  confession  kindly  might  be  a  "good  thing"  in 
the  future — might  strengthen  her  influence  over  the  pos- 
sihle  heiress  of  all  Miss  Rolf's  fortune. 

"Very  well,  Nan,"  she  said,  kissing  the  little  bowed 
head,  "  we  will  agree  to  forget  it.  Now  go  away  and  get 
ready  for  prayers.  Mrs.  Grange  will  soon  be  home." 

And  Nan,  feeling  a  great  load  off  her  little  heart,  went 
into  her  own  room  and  put  away  her  shell  in  the  big  trunk 
already  full  of  her  new  possessions. 

[TO   in:   i  MMIM  KI>. 


Gone  to  fetch  a  rabbit-skin 


Bye,  Baby  Bunting! 


To  wrap  the  Baby  Bunting  in. 


Papa's  gone  a-huiiting — 


yj^''         M         )-'\'^ 

r       ,.     .      '     ,^ 


46 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THK    INFANT    CLASS. 

OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

NO  doubt  you  have  all  taken  an  interest  in  the 
stories  of  childish  heroism  which  have  ap- 
peared in  YOUNG  PEOPLE  during  the  last  year.  We 
have  great  pleasure  in  adding  to  the  list  of  brave 
boys  who  have  shown  courage  and  presence  of 
mind  in  an  hour  of  sudden  peril  the  name  of 
Harry  Meinell.  aired  eleven,  son  of  Captain  Mei- 
nell.  late  of  the  United  States  Artillery.  His  sis- 
ter Marie  sends  us  the  account  of  her  little  bro- 
ther's noble  deed. 

One  bright  day  last  August  a  number  of  chil- 
dren were  merrily  playing  around  a  mill-pond 
near  the  Greenfield  Hotel.  Shawangunk  Mount- 
ains. One  of  them,  a  little  fellow  six  years  old, 
slipped  and  fell  into  twelve  feet  of  water.  Instant- 
ly Harry  Meinell  sprang  to  the  rescue,  plunged 
into  tlie  spot  where  bubbles  were  rising  over  the 
sinking  child,  seized,  and  brought  him  to  the  sur- 
face. Finding  him  too  heavy  for  his  strength, 
he  called  to  his  sister,  a  year  younger — who  was, 
fortunately,  in  a  row-boat  not  far  off— and  witli 
her  aid  succeeded  in  bringing  him  to  the  shore. 

Certainly  Harry's  name  belongs  on  the  Roll  of 
Honor. 


UTICA,  NEW  Y,,I,K. 

I  am  a  boy  ten  years  old, and  have  lots  of  tun 
I  like  to  play  tag,  and  chase,  ami  pins  and  nee- 
dles. Perhaps  some  who  read  this  letter  do  nut 
"know  how  to  play  pins  and  needles,  so  I  will  tell 
them.  First  some  one  has  to  stand;  then  the 
first  player  jumps  over  him.  and  then  another, 
and  so  on,  all  saying  "pins"  as  they  go  over 
Then  they  do  the  .same  thing  again,  all  saying 
"needles."  Thru  the  next  time  they  say  "  huieh 
er's  grip,"  and  tourli  as  tln-y  go '  over.  Nexl 
comes  "  sailor's  grip."  again  touching  as  they  go 
over.  Next  comes  "spurs."  kicking  as  they  go 
over.  This  time  the  one  standing  !ias  to  turn 
sideways.  Next  comes  "hats on  deck."  As  you 
go  over  put  your  hat  on  the  boy's  back.  The  rule 
is  if  you  knock  the  boy  over  in  jumping  mer 
him.  or  if  you  fail  to  do  any  of  these  things,  you 
must  be  the  one  to  stand.  B.  T.  (i. 

Dear  me  '.  how  glad  I  am  that  I  am  not  a  boy ! 
I  wouldn't  play  "pins  ami  needles"  and  "hats  on 
deck"  for  the  prettiest  present  you  could  offer 
me.  Is  it  possible  that  you  never  get  hurt ':  and 
what  do  your  mothers  say  about  the  torn  jack- 
ets and  trousers  that  come  home  from  such  jolly 
sport  ? 


NEW  YORK  CITV. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— Please  oblige  a  little  girl 
twelve  years  old  by  publishing  her  little  story  in 
the  Post-office  Box. 

EDITH'S  RESOLUTION. 

It  -was  a  bright  sunny  day  when  little  Edith 
wandered  about  the  crowded  street.  Her  little 
brother  had  her  hand  ;  he  was  five  years  old,  and 
was  very  thin  for  want  of  food. 

They  were  very  poor  people,  and  their  mother 
had  been  dead  for  a  very  long  time.  They  were 
under  the  charge  of  their  aunt,  who  was  sickly, 
and  could  earn  but  little. 

As  they  wen-  walking  quietly  up  and  down  the 
street  a  young  man  stopped'  them,  and  asked 
Edith  if  she  would  carry  his  bundle  to  the  hotel. 
Edith  immediately  did  as  he  wished,  and  when 
she  came  back  he  gave  her  rive  cents. 

"Andrew."  said  Edith,  as  soon  as  they  got 
home,  "  what  shall  we  do  with  all  this  mom-\ 

" Oh,  I  know,"  said  Andrew:  "you  buy  sonic 
•Candy,  and  then  we  will  have  a  feast  " 


But  Edith  thought 
for  awhile,  and  theu 
said: 

"  No,  Andrew,  we 
will  buy  a  nice  loaf  of 
lireail.  1  know  aunty 
would  rather  have  it 
than  the  candy." 

But  Andrew  put  on  a 
sorrowful  face,  \\  Inch 
he  knew  Edith  did  not 
like  to  see. 

She  looked  at  him 
for  a  few  seconds,  and 
then  said  she-  might 
buy  the  candy  when 
she  got  to  the  store. 

When  they  reached 
a  confectionery,  little 
Andrew  nulled  Edith 
toward  the  window, 
and  said. 

"Oh.  Edith,  look  at 
all  thos,.  ifood  things :" 
\Vhilc  he  was  saying 
this  a  nice  little  lady 
with  her  nurse  went 
into  the  store  and 
bought  some  candy, 
and  when  she  came 

^^^^^  out     she    gave    it     to 

Edith,  who  stared  at 
her    in    wonder    and 

amazement.  But  the  little  lady  said  she  heard 
the  little  hoy  remark  that  he  wanted  some,  and 
so  vlie  I, ought  it  for  him. 

Edith  thanked  her  very  much,  and  said  shchad 
but  five  cents,  which  she  wished  for  bread.  An- 
drew was  also  glad  to  have  s,  ,me  candy  without 
spending  any  m<  iiicy.  Edith  kept  hers  for  aunty, 
t  hen  bought  'the  bread,  and  afterward  went  home, 
and  they  had  a  merry  time  that  night  over  hread 
and  candy.  I(.  M. 

NEW-  HAVEN,  CONNECTICUT. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old,  and  my  brother 
Charlie  is  seven.  Last  New  Year's  some  kind 
friends  sent  us  HARPER'S  YOUN«  PEOPLI:  ;  we  like 
them  very  much.  Mamma  reads  the  stories  to 
us.  and  enjoys  them  quite  a^  much  as  we  do.  \Ve 
particularly  like  the  Post-office  Box.  and  were 
delighted  with  Mr.  Otis's  story  "Their  Girl,"  only 
wishing  it  were  longer.  We  have  two  pets  a  ca- 
nan  bird  we  call  (Joldie.  that  sings  very  sweetly, 
and  a  young  Newfoundland  dog  which  we  call 
Andy.  He  is  very  playful  and  mischievous.  I 
wrote  a  letter  to  Il.uii-KK's  >OIM.  I'KOPI.K  last 
winter,  but  it  was  not  published.  We  send  the 
Postmistress  a  little  box  of  How.  rs  Mamma  is 
writing  this  for  me. 

NELLIE  (;.  R.  and  CIIARI.IE  II.  1!. 

Thanks  for  the  flowers,  dear  Nellie  and  char- 
lie.  1  am  afraid  some  of  my  little  correspond- 
ents are  discouraged  when,  having  written  once 
or  twice  ii,  the  post-office  Box.  they  si  ill  tail  to 
see  their  letters  printed  there.  If  these  dear  chil- 
dren could  take  a  peep  at  me  when  1  am  reading 
the  hnilgets  which  the  postman  brings,  could  ^-e 
my  bewildered  face,  and  watch  me  as  I  tn  to 
be  perfect  1  v  tail1  to  all,  they  would  not  complain 
at  the  I,,HL;  delays.  If  your  first  letter  is  not 
published,  wait  awhile,  and  theu  write  another. 
Some  o!  the  letters  are  MTV  entertaining  to  me. 
but  are  not  of  a  character  to  interest  the  great 
n nni her  of  children  who  cluster  around  the  l'.,-t- 
ini-ii  e^s  every  week.  I  wish  the  little  pens  would 
try  to  tell  of  something  pleasant  or  strange  about 
their  homes  or  their  daily  lives,  something  be- 
sides the  men  facts  of  how  old  they  are,  and 
how  many  brothers  and  sisters  they  have. 

If  yon  will  pause  to  think,  boys,  you  will  see 
that  a  New  York  boy,  for  instance,  must  have 
opportunities  of  telling  many  interesting  things 
about  his  native  city  which  a  prairie  boy,  or  a 
Hocky  Mountain  boy,  or  a  lad  in  California  will 
find  charming.  And  a  boy  who  lives  on  a  far- 
away ranch,  and  sees  great  herds  of  cattle  and 
flocks  of  sheep  every  day,  may  do  much  to  inter- 
est the  other,  who  plays  on  Boston  common,  or 
passes  Independence  Hall  in  Philadelphia  on  his 
way  to  school. 

A  little  girl  sends  usher  composition  on  "  \\  on 
derful  Inventions."  The  Postmistress  thinks  with 
you.  dear,  tluu  if  people  would  only  try  and  try, 
and  not  get  discouraged,  the  world  would  go  on 
much  better  than  it  does.  But  it  is  very  easy  to 
be  discouraged,  isn't  it,  dearie,  after  all* 

An  invention  is  something  that  is  invented,  and 
I  think  there  would  be  more  of  them  if  people 
would  onU  try  and  try  until  they  were  success 
fill.  Hut  some  people  get  discouraged  if  every- 
thing does  not  happen  to  go  right  the  first  time 
Thej  should  think  of  Robert  Fulton,  who  when 
others  failed,  thought  he  could  make  his  idea 
successful,  although  many  said  he  would  never 
succeed.  He  went  to  work  with  a  will,  and  did 
succeed,  to  the  amazement  of  the  people  and 
then  some  were  afraid  to  take  the  first  trip  on 


his  steamboat.  As  we  look  around  us  we  seldom 
stop  to  think  of  the  work  inventions  have  saved. 
Even  the  cotton  from  which  clothing  is  made 
was  never  in  so  much  demand  until  Eli  \\  hitm  •, 
invented  the  cotton-gin.  The  mariner's  compass, 
which  is  so  useful  to  a  captain  to  show  him  in 
which  direction  his  vessel  is  sailing,  the  piano- 
forte, which  affords  us  so  much  amusement,  the 
sewing-machine,  the  umbrella,  all  were  made  for 
our  use  and  comfort.  L.  C. 

Yes,  my  bright  little  L.  C.,  the  sewing-machine, 
and  the  umbrella,  and  many  other  labor-saving 
and  ease-giving  contrivances  were  bitterly  op- 
posed at  first.  Many  gentlemen  and  ladies  de- 
clared they  never,  never  would  let  a  machine 
stitch  their  garments  :  it  would  surely  wear  out 
the  material,  and  the  sewing  would  be  certain 
not  to  hold.  When  umbrellas  were  first  intro- 
duced in  London,  lie  was  a  brave  man  who  ven- 
tured to  carry  i  me  in  the  street.  He  was  follow- 
ed by  a  jeering  crowd,  who  hooted  at  him  and 
called  him  names. or  pelted  him  with  mud.  But 
by-and-by  it  was  observed  that  umbrellas  were 
sensible,  and  that  there  was  no  great  merit  in 
getting  wet  to  the  skin  whenever  it  rained.  Re- 
member that  all  inventions  have  their  beginnings 
in  somebody's  busy  brain.  Perhaps  there  are 
wonderful  little  imcntors  among  my  boys  and 
girls.  

So  many  of  you  love  your  dear  gray  cats,  and 
black  and  yellow  and  mouse-colored  pussies,  and 
frolicsome  kitties,  that  you  will  be  delighted  with 
some  true  stories  about  these  domestic  pets.  The 
first  is  from  the  owner  of 

A  CLEVER  CAT. 

My  cook  was  honest,  and  the  pantry  was  al- 
ways locked,  but  for  weeks  I  had  missed  little 
things  from  the  shelves  and  dishes.  Severaltimes 
we  had  talked  the  matter  over,  but  could  in  no 
way  think  bow  it  was  possible  for  the  food  to  be 
carried  off,  until  one  evening,  when  my  cook  was 
in  the  pantry,  she  heard  a  noi-e  as  <  if 'something 
coming  down  the  chimney,  and  in  a  few  moments 
out  jumped  an  old  and  favorite  cat,  which  until 
then  had  always  borne  an  excellent  character 
in  the  household. 

I  was  much  puzzled  as  to  how  the  animal  had 
been  able  to  reach  ihe  chimney  from  the  out- 
side, and  ordered  her  to  be  watched.  On  being 
driven  out  of  the  room,  some  few  hours  after- 
ward she  was  seen  to  go  stealthily  into  the  cel- 
lar. The  cook  folio  wed,  but  the  cat  was  nowhere 
to  be  MM'ii.  when  she  bethought  herself  of  the 
pantry,  and  then-  found  the  thief  en  joy  ing  a  piece 
ol  meat.  From  Ihe  cellar  then-  also  ran  a  chim- 
ney, so  that  I  was  no!  a  little  surprised  to  find 
that  the  cat  had  gone  up  one  chimney  and  down 
the  other.  Thinking  it  best  to  put  if  out  of  her 
power  to  steal  any  longer,  1  had  the  pantry  chim- 
ney stopped  up. 

The  nest  is  much  prettier : 

THE  CURIOUS  KITTEN. 

A  very  intelligent  little  kitten  was  lying  on  the 
rug  one  day.  when  a  young  lady  took  off  her  brace- 
let.and  playfully  fastened  it  round  pussy's  neck. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  little  creature's  anxie- 
ty to  find  out  what  I  his  new  appendage  was.  and 
after  vainly  tn  ing  to  sec  it  by  turning  her  head 
about,  she  quietly  got  up.  walked  a  cross  the  room, 
and  climbed  on  a  chair  which  happened  to  stand 
betorea  mirror  she  looked  at  herself  earnestly 
in  the  glass,  felt  the  bracelet  with  both  paws, 
stroking  it  first  one  side,  then  the  other,  and  when 
apparently  quite  satisfied  with  herself  and  her 
necklace,  she  returned  to  her  place,  and  settled 
herself  calmly  to  sleep  again. 

And  this  is  the  prettiest  of  all : 

I  was  one  day  attracted  by  the  sound  of  scratch- 
ing at  a  door  which  opened  from  some  cellar 
steps,  and  by  seeing  the  black  paw  of  a  favorite 
cat  protruding  through  a  \erv  small  aperture. 
The  door  was  just  sufficiently  open  to  allow  of 
pussy's  paw  being  passed  through  the  space,  but 
it  stuck  a  little,  and  in  spite  of  her  efforts  she  re- 
mained a  prisoner.  After  several  vain  attempts, 
she  paused  for  a  moment,  then  gave  the  peculiar 
cry  which  cats  use  to  summon  their  young  ones. 

Pussy's  kitten,  a  nearly  full-grown  one,  heard 
the  call,  and  ran  to  her  mother's  assistance,  she 
understood  the  state  of  affairs  at  once,  and  in- 
serting her  paw  from  the  outside,  the  mother  re- 
sumed her  efforts  from  within,  and  the  two  to- 
gether succeeded  in  opening  the  door  sufficiently 
wide  to  liberate  the  captive. 


I  live  in  a  very  pretty  place  called  Cowansville. 
It  snowed  very 'slightly  this  morning  for  the  first 
time  this  year.  I  will  he  so  glad  when  it  snows 
a  great  deal.  I  have  got  up  a  dramatic  club.  We 
arc  t.,  play  next  month,  and  after  we  have  the 
entertainment  I  will  write  and  tell  you  about  it 
if  you  want  me  to.  Will  you  please  print  ns  a 
short  dialogue  for  seven — three  girls  and  four  or 
more  boys?  I  have  a  nice  doggie  named  Nig, 
which  will  sit  up  and  beg,  and  do  everything  al- 
most that  a  dog  can  do,  and  I  have  an  awful 
pretty  little  kitten  which  sits  purring  in  my  lap 


MIVKMHKR  21, 1882. 


HAMPER'S  YorXG  PEOPLE. 


as  I  write,  and  :i  little  bird  called  Cherry.  But  I 
iiiu-t  -ii  .iinl  practice  my  music  lesson.  MI  good- 
hj  MABEL  C. 

We  have  something  iu  preparation  which  will 
suit  your  ilrainatic  i-luli.  Mabel,  ami  which  you 
\\  i.l  certainly  likr  fur  one  of  your  performances. 

Tlir  little  girl  eight  years  ulil  who  saw  two  birds 
flying  over  the  house,  and  made  up  the  following 
pretty  \«-rsi-.  will  very  likely  make  other  verses 

Whell    she   1-   oilier  : 

I  saw   two  birdies  up  in  the  sky. 
Ami  ihey  pt-aitled  merrily  as  they  flew  liy  : 
said  the1  little  male  to  in-  w ife  BO  sweet, 
Together  we'll  strive  to  get  bread  ami  meat; 

s.i  thej    liotli  flew-  off  to  the  far  Smith,  ast, 

\\  In  re  ii"  one  emilil  lind  tin  in-  man  nor  Least. 


puzzles.  J  am  fourteen  years  of  age.  I  have  nei- 
ther father,  mother,  sister,  nor  brother.  My  mo- 
ther died  when  1  was  live  years  old,  and  my  fa- 
ther when  I  was  twelve.  Iain  now  livingat  Clin- 
ton with  my  unele.  but  my  home  is  in  Shreveport, 
Louisiana,  [am  going  to  school  here.  Theschool- 

house  Is  -it  Hat  i  il  i  in  a  hii;il  hill.      U  e  ha  \  e  a  u I 

teacher,  and  new  seholars  are  coming  in  <\cry 
day.  ourteaehei  has  intr- >dueed  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  into  his  sehoi.il.  and  has  a  larm-  class,  all 

"I  wl i  are  highly  pleased  with  it.    Tour  little 

friend.  .Ions   A.  11. 


We  are    two   little    -iris,  and   we    thought    we 

Would    like    to    see    one    of    olir    letters    pulili-hcd. 

M\    name  i-  Sallie.  and  mysi-ters  is  Kmtnie.     I 

ha\  e  1 1  H  ir  di  ills,  and  m\  sister  has  three.    \\  e  ha  •-  • 

\v  and  while  cat  named  .liinibo.  and  a  toy 

elenhanl  named    Po  >]   Tyler,  because  we  liked 

little  '['•  ih\  so  niiieh.     \\"e  also  have  a  luack  lamb. 

My  older  sister  is  writing  this  for  us.    \\  • 

Sll'ppn-e    \oll    like    to    pllbli-li    '•/'/    loll-   letlels.   -.  . 

w  e  must  close.     \  our  tail  III  ill  reader-. 

s  \  i;  \n  and  K.MII.Y  T. 

I  hope  your  black  lamb  \\ill  not  behave,  when 
In  -lows  up.  as  did  a  certain  old  sheep  about 
which  you  lately  read  in  the  I'ost-oftice  Box. 

li'xw,  ii.  MAUACHCII  T-TS. 
[  have  a  eat  named  .lumb.  i :  she  isein  irely  blac-k. 

excel  it   a  while  spot   on  her  1  hf.  iat .      \Ve  have  two 

dogs  ;  one  is  brown,  tl theri-  I, row  n  and  white. 

Once   I   was  going  out    in  the  woods  with  them, 
and  they  caught  a  little  rahbil       I  ha\c  -ecu  the 

comet  twice     Once  n  wasverj  large,  n HUT 

time  it  was  very  small       Ipswich  is  about  I  • 

eight  miles  from  Boston.  AMI  (. 


HAMRIKI;.  Imv  i. 

I  am  twelve  years  of  age.  I  have  three  si-tcrs 
and  one  brother.  I  live  in  the  country,  and  go 
to  school  all  the  lime.  I  have  no  pets  to  tell  you 
about,  but  1  have  a  dear  hit  le  sjsier  a  >ear  and  a 
hall  old,  w  ho  i-  -.I  i  ate!  "-he  thinks  lots  ol  her 
kitty  :  it  i-  black  and  white.  \\  e  ba\  e  an  oriran. 
I  do  not  take  lessons  now.  but  I  like  to  pla>  on 
it.  1'apa  takes  HAIU-KK  s  -I.M  N,.  Pim-i  i  lor  us. 

i  .liiiimy  Hi-own  would  write  a  ston 
week.     I  must  stop  now  .  so -,,od-by.    MINA  I;. 


WiTili-r.'-  Mill ,  Mi 

"Marvic."  ill  writing  of  his  visit  to  the  eoiin- 
try.  sa\  -  of  the  d"-  Major.  "Moles  he  will  not 
eat  :  n<  ither  w  ill  eal  s  eat  mole--  "  \  e-.  and  whal 
is  inm-e  remark  a  I  ile.  neil  her  \\  ill  Inn:-  eal  moles 
In  rambling  Ihron-h  the  country  one  will  otien 
ol. sene  that  Hie  ho--  rooi  up  old  mule  traeks. 
hunt  in  IT.  as  I  supposed,  tor  moles  Thev  are  all 
ei'  worm-  or  miee  i  w  hi.  1 1  oflen  make  use  of  mole 
run-'.  I  nit  not  ni"l.  -.  a-  any  ,  me  ma\  lie  em. 
who  will  offer  them  one.  II. 


•   i       -vM'  K«.  \K»-  JKRSKV. 

The   rest    of  the  lit  111'   people  Write,  so   I   t  hull -lit 
that     I    would    do   the    .-ami-         I    liaxc    jll-1    been    Up 

in  Xew  York  state  for  three  or  lour  weeks 
\\  here  i  was  visiting  they  had  two  oxen ;  the; 

Wen-    \et-V    gentle          I    I! -e,l    I  '  I    -el    ,  m    •    of   them 

ami  take  the  eows  down  to  pashm        i 

used  to  go  over  to  the  neighbor's  and  borrow  two 

saddles,  and  put  I  hem  on  I  he  oxen,  and  I  lien  ha  \  e 
a  ride  [  made  them  trot.  I  weigh  nr>  pounds. 
and  I  am  only  eleven  years  old,  but  will  be  twelve 

the  '.'I, III  of  .llllle.  A  Vllns     I!.    K 


s,  .i  i  ii  VMI-T.IS  .  1  M.I  .M>. 

I  am  a  little  American boj  -.  i,  n  \>  ais  old.    I 

-o  l,i  Hand.  I  I  •olle-e.      Mv  grandma  in  New   •!  ork 

si 'in  Is    me     I  I  \  l;l'l  K  -    >  i .  I    N  i .     I 'Kill' 1,1..       I     like    t  he 

stone-  vi  •!•>  milch.  I  have  a  liltlc  black  kitten: 
its  name  is  Topsy.  I  have  In  i  r  to  8  -real  i,,:in> 

an'-ii'Mi  (>ia<'e-.  in'i  (can't  remember  the  names. 

1  have  two  si-lers  and  two  lir.ither-.  all  older 
than  my -elf  e  \crpl  on,  Im  '!  her.  I  a  in  goin-  I'."  k 
to  New  York  some  da >.  I  vt  rile  I  Ins  all  m\ -ell. 

1'Al  I.    I.      M 

It  was  beautifully  written  too. 


M\  little  son  sends  \ou  this  Wiggle.  Let  me 
express,  to  you  my  sincere  thanks  for  your  liltlc 
paper,  which  comes  each  week  with  such  a  bright 
and  happy  hour's  reading  for  the  little  one-  It 
has  helped  my  boys  so  very  much  with  their  read- 
ing. The  clear  type  la  Just  the  tiling  for  the  little 
beginners.  K.  V.  C. 

A  testimonial  like  this  from  a  mother  is  very 
gratifying  to  those  who  are  trying  to  make  YOI-M; 
PEOPLE  a  deserved  favorite  with  both  parents 
and  children. 


I  take  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  like  it  ever  so  much. 
My  sister  gave  it  to  me  for  a  birthday  present.  I 
go'  to  St.  Luke's  Hall  to  school,  and  like  il  ever  so 
much.  I  have  been  attending  it  three  years,  and 
have  live  teachers.  I  like  them  all, and  of  all  my 
studies  I  like  history  best.  I  have  )'i.^m/  />»//,.*' 
IlMnrii  (•/'  Kiiylonil.  by  charlotte  M.  Yonge.  and 
have  no  trouble  iu  studying  it,  because  it  is  so  in- 
teresting. ANABEJ,  I. 


CI.IKTOS,  ARKANSAS. 

I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  how  much 
I  liked  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  like  it  better 
than  any  periodical  I  have  ever  read.  I  take  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  solving  out  its  enigmas  and 


As  Thanksgiving  draws  near,  some  of  our  young 
people  begin  to  wonder  what  pretty  game  they 
can  add  to  the  stock  the)  aln-ad>  Un  iw.  -o  that 
I  lii  •>  nia\  lie  ready  to  try  il  when  the  merry  par- 
t\  oi  cousins  and  iriemls  has  as.-i-uibU.-d.  We 

FA.Mol  s  Nl'MBL'liS. 
It  ma>  be  played  by  any  number  of  people.    We 

will  siipjio-e  a  tamm  consisting  "I  papa,  mam- 
ma.  Aunt  Mary.  I  ni  le  Ilem\.and  se\eral  cliil 
drcn  to  I,.-  eii-a-'  d  iu  it  on  a  pleasant  winters 
e\  en  in-  \'ia  I  <  gins  : 

"  I 'a  pa.  how  nice  it  would  I"  if  you  and  mamma 
and  aunt  and  uncle  would  base  a  gallic  of  i'a- 
ini  iu~  N  unitiers  wit  h  us  !" 

"1  ha\  e  i I. IITI  i.  in.  m\  dear,  if  you  will  tell 

me  how  to  pla\.  l-'amous  Numbers  did  not  he- 
Ion-  t"  t  he  i ;  Ohildh I.  I  am  afraid." 

"Well,"  Said  Ada.  "this  is  whal  we  nuisl  do: 
(  liarlie  or  I  must  w'rile  on  slip-  ot  paper  some 
inimner.  a-  many  a-  we  plea-e.  \\  e  twist  our 

papers  up,  put  them  on  a  plate  or  in  a  bag,  as  we 

can,  and  you  each  draw  one.  Then  \  mi  open  it. 
ami  -a  \  :'  .My  la  111.  m-  mini  her  i-  Twelve  |or  whal- 
es el  1  he  lilimticf  is  1  'flier.  •  \\  ere  t  \\  e  1  \  e  la IS 

Caesars.'  It  you  don  t  know  enough  tamous 
t  hiiiL-s  or  people  t"  make  t  ne  numin  r,  \  .ai  pay  a 
forfeit;  but  that  will  be  Imposslbli  for  you,  papa." 

"I  am  by  no  mean-  sure  ;  1  I  hink  it  \  cry  liKcly 
that  1  shall  pay  tin-  lir-t  tmteit  myself.  Howev- 
er, 1  am  n  ,nu  in  try." 

\.l.l    .1  MM    I    hall.  -    t  h-  II    |ire]i:il-eil   t  heir  pi 

paper,  handed  them  rouinl.  BCCl  pted  I  lie  l  .M. 
dually  let  I .  ami  resumed  I  In  ir  si  ai  s  Hahy  Amy 
WOUld  m-i-l  mi  taking  a  paper  like  the  re-l.so 
papa  promised  lo  |LI  lp  In  i  in  linding  her  famous 

n  inn  hi  i 

Mamma  opened  hers  tirst.    "  I  have  dra\\  n  the 

hum  .11-    m  i,  t1    ol     liii.'  ..I.     "  !    think 

Sprni-.  Bummer,  \utiiinn,  and  U  mlcr  are  a  la- 
ne nis  lour 

"1   ha\e  drawn  a  lain. .us  number.     -  ml    \.!:i  , 

••ii  is  I'hrec  nh:  i  kii'.w  who  shall  be  my  fa- 
mom  ' 

"'The  dauntless  three  who  Kepi   ihe  bridge  of 
old  '" 

"I  an    \oii    repeat    the    lines   of  Ihe  lay    Ada':" 

iini I  her  Iat  lier. 

"  1  think  I  can. 

"•Then  mil    -pake  bra\e   Horaliils. 
The  caplaiu  of  the  -ate  : 
To  CM  r\    man   upon  this  earth 
I  h  ,il  h    C.  "h.  Ill    -'  ii  ill   or   late. 

\nd  how-  can  man  die-  heller 
Than  lacing  tearful  odds 
For  the  asues  nt   hi-  falhcr- 
And  the  leni|>lcs  ol  his  gods? 

"•Hew  down  the  bridge.  Sir  i'oii-ul, 
\\ilh  all  Hie  s]ieed  \c  may  : 
I.  w  il  h  l  wo  more  to  help  me, 
\\ill  hold  tin-  foe  in  play. 
In  \oii  -Iran   path  a  thousand 

Ma  \     Well    be    si  i  ipped    by    I  liree  : 

.Now'  who  will  stand  mi  either  hand, 

And   keep  the   bridge   with   me  :• 

"'Then  out  spake  spurius  Lartius— 
A  Kamnian  proud  was  he  • 
Lo  !  I  will  stand  at  thy  right  hand, 
And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee. 
And  out  spake  strong  Herminius — • 
Of  Titan  blood  was  he  : 
I  will  abide  on  thy  left  side. 
And  keep  the  bridge  with  thee.'" 

"Very  well.  Ada."  said  Aunt  Mary.  "I  have 
drawn  ii  famous  number:  my  number  is  Twelve. 
As  your  papa  has  mentioned  the  twelve  Os.irs, 
1  will  give  the  twelve-  months  of  the  year." 

"1  have  drawn  a  famous  number — Nine.  Of 
course  I  give  the  nine  Muses."  This  was  Charlie. 

"I  have  drawn  a  famous  number:  it  is  Five." 
said  Anne.  "The  five  Senses  an-  very  tamous— 
Seeing,  Hearing,  Smelling,  Tasting,  and  Touch- 
ing." 

"  1."  said  Fanny,  "have  drawn  a  famous  num- 
ber—Seven. Seven  stars  in  the  Pleiades.  They 
are  called '  Seven  Stars'  sometimes." 


"  I  have  drawn  a  famous  number— Eight.  May 
I  saj  an  octave  in  music  :•  It  is  the  most  famous; 
eight  1  know,"  said  Mabel. 

"1  think  we  will  not  make  you  pay  a  forfeit 
this  time."  said  papa. 

"I  have  drawn  six.  Well.  Monday.  Tuesday, 
Wednesday, Thursday,  Friday,  and  Saturday— fa- 
mous for  work,  if  for  nothing  else."  said  Aunt 
Mary. 

"1  have  drawn  Ten.  Tin-  ])i  ecmviri  who  mis- 
gOVl  rued  limne."  said  Anthony. 

"  See  what  mine  is  about."  -aid  baby  Amy. 

"  It  is  Due.  Tell  us  a  famous  one,  Amy,1''  said 
papa 

"  My  own  mamma,"  said  baby. 

And  so  on. 

E.  o.  M.  c.  AMI  MAKY  l;  \le--r-  Harper*  Bro- 
thers will  furnish  a  beautiful  cover  for  Vol.  III. 
on  application  at  their  establishment  for ;',.")  cents. 
By  mail  it  will  cost  50  cents. 


CHARLES  G.— It  is  rather  too  late  this  season  to 
gather  leave*  for  skeleloni/.iug.  They  should  be 
collected  in  June  or  July,  soaked  for  some  da\s 
in  water  until  Ihe  -recu  part  separates  easily 
from  Ihe  framework  of  the  leaf,  and  then  dipped 
in  a  solution  oi  soda,  which  whitens  them.  Try 
the  process  next  summer. 


MAIUE  M.— This  little  girl's  cat  has  a  cough, 
fan  anybody  suggest  a  remedy  for  poor  puss  ? 


PUZZLES  FROM  Yol'Mi  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  I. 
WOIll)  sor.utE. 

1.  A  voracious  fish.  '-'.  A  bird.  3.  To  discuss. 
I  A.I  '-met  ie.  ;,  Ti ,  pa>  homage. 

llAi-i'v  Co  LUCKY. 

No.  •-.'. 

HALF-SQUARE. 

1.  A  division  of  grammar.  '-?.  To  wish  for.  3. 
ship-, a  war.  J.Totcsi.  :,.  An  article,  ti.  A  let- 
ter. VOGIENE. 

N.I  a 

TIIHKK    KASV    DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  letter.  -,>.  To  figure.  :!.  A  girl's  name. 
I.  To  expire,  a.  A  letter  not  in  piano. 

2. — 1.  A  letter.  •-'.  A  receptacle.  :t  A  girl's  name. 
-I.  A  boy's  name.  .V  A  letter  in  desirable. 

3. — 1.  A  crooked  let  tcr.  ^'.  Some  i  hing  every  one 

has  ,1 ;i  \  hie  i". lack  Frost.  4  \vas  once 

in  a  beautiful  garden.  :,.  A  Idler  in  UAKPEU'S 
VOUM.  I'I.III-I.E.  KOHIN  DYKE. 

No.  4. 

NUMERH  AI.   ENHiMA. 

Mv  :..  l'i.  :i.  I','  is  a  young  lady. 
My  i.  •-'. :;.  I  is  pan  "i  a  Fence. 

M\  :>.  H,  11.  I  is  a  vapor. 
\1\  :..  -.'.  7,8  i-  Hi.   -iv:, test  in  value. 
My  '.i.  •„'.  II,  in  isa  tlowcr. 

\l\  whole  is  somebody  of  whom  you  have  all 
heard.  KOSE  WIUGUT. 

ANSWERS  Til  PI/XI.KS  IX  No.  157. 

No.  i.   r  i  N  t.     u  i  N  D 

i  D  K  s      i  i)  t:  \ 

N  K  A  P        X  I]  A  K 
E  S  I'  Y        I)  A  K  K 


MARE 

A  L  F.  S 
E  E  A  P 
E  S  1'  Y 


c  R  O  W 
K  A  n  E 
t)  <;  K  E 
WEEP 


No. 


H 

CAN 

C  O  R  E  A 

A  R  P  E  R  S 

NEEDS 

A  If  S 

S 


s 

ANT 

PROBE 

C.  O  N  I)  u  L  A 

SNODGRASS 

STARCHY 

GRATE 

ASP 

S 


T 

S  Y  N 

SAPID 

TYPICAL 

NICER 

D  A  R 

L 


No.  3. 


Amazon  River. 


Co.  reel  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Alfred  Kaufman.  Laura  Smylie.  Jack  Cleve- 
land, Frank  Synsabaiigh.  Lena  Matthews,  A.  H. 
Patterson.  Karl.  Albert  E.  sigel.  Emily  G.  B.,Tom 
C..  Alice  St.  Stephen.  Louis  II.  Hirseh.  Alma  Clin- 
ton, Bessie  Benedict.  Thornton  Ward,  Florence 
Talbot,  Archie  Hicks,  "Bright  Eyes,"  "Fairy,'* 
Kobin  Dyke,  Amy  Fiske,  and  Robert  H.  Vose. 


[For  Exchangee,  see  ill  and  3d  pages  ofcmer.] 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  WISH-BONE. 

I'.Y  TOMMIE  JONES. 

THEY  say  tli.-it   hoys  are  horrid  things, 

And  don't  know  how  to  act  ; 
They're  nothing,  though,  to  grown-up  girls — 

I  tell  you  it's  a  fact. 
I  saw  myself  the  whole  affair. 

And  watched  the  fun  begin  ; 
'Twas  Sue  that  laid  the  spiteful  plot 

To  take  Amelia  in. 

At  dinner  'Mclia  twitted  Sue 

About  a  beau  she'd  lost. 
And  though  Sue  kept  a  smiling  face, 

1   saw  how  much   it   cost. 
I  knew  that  something  hail  to  come  : 

Boys  like  an  honest  right. 
But  girls  will  smile  and  kiss,  and  then 

Do  something  mean  for  spite. 

"Just  put  the  wish-bone,  dear."  said  Sue, 

"  Above  the  parlor  door; 
Your  husband  he  the  first  will  be 

Who  steps  the  threshold  o'er." 
She  helped  Amelia  mount  the  chair 

(I  watched  it   with  a  grin), 
Then  beckoned  with  her  ringer-tips, 

And  called  the  irniter  in. 


HANGING    THE    WISH-BONE. 


JUDGE  AND  JURY. 

rriHE  first  thing  to  be  done  in  this  game  is  to  select  a  judge 
J.  and  three  jurymen.  A  piece  of  paper  is  then  given  to 
each  of  the  remaining  company,  who,  after  due  consideration, 
must  write  down  the  name  of  some  one  in  history,  the  inci- 
dents of  whose  life  they  recollect  sufficiently  to  be  able  to 
describe.  All  having  made  their  selection,  the  papers  are 
]>n  -entcd  to  the  judge,  who  calls  upon  one  after  another  to 
submit  to  an  examination. 

Let  us  suppose  that  the  first  player  has  chosen  Shakspeare; 
lie  would  be  asked  in  what  year  he  was  born,  to  what  conn- 
try  he  belonged,  what  he  did  to  make  himself  remarkable, 
\\liat  great  men  uere  his  contemporaries,  and  anything  else 
that  niinlit  occur  to  the  judge.  No  one,  of  course,  with  a 
superficial  knowledge  of  history  should  accept  the  position 
of  juilue.  nor  yet  that  of  juryman.  If  agreeable  to  the  com- 
pany, living  characters  may  be  personified,  still,  historical 
ones  are  gem-rally  the  most  interesting,  and  it  is  astonishing 
how  much  instruction  as  well  as  real  amusement  may  lie 
drawn  from  the  name. 


-V. 


il 

$]'.:•!          ' 


ill  nr^ 


_        .  •        T~~*~*~ai<anMvn.u.<.,,*-ft:  >  ,  .  -          .  _ 
\ ~  .1     i  i  /  •     -       ,    •>  r*>»  ' 

, 

i '  tt,i 


I-"  n'*'< 

^•^^^^-^ ;  gMvw^^Qp  sp^i/:a^y 


A    THANKSGIVING    TURKEY-SHOOT    (NEW    STYLE). 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.     NO.  1"  1 


PUBLISHED  I:Y   HAKl'KU  A:   BROTHERS,  NKW  YORK. 


PRICE    FOUR    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  November  28,  1882. 


.    H**rEB  A 


S1.5U  per  Yi Mr.  in   A.lxallue. 


"HASTILY    PLACING    HIM    IX    THE    SLEIGH,  THE    BELATED    TRAVELLER    DROVE    ON." 


HOW  LOUIS  BROUGHT  HOME  THE 
THANKSGIVING-  TURKEY. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS, 
AUTHOR  OF  "TOBY  TYI.EI:."  "Tni  AND  TIP."  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BIMTIIER."  ETC. 


I 


JEST  wish  we  could  have  a  Thanksgivin'  like  otlier 
folks,  with  a  big  roasted  turkey,  an'  everything  to  go 
with  it,  an'  pies  an'  puddin's." 

"The  best  Thanksgiving  we  could  have,  Louis,  would 
be  your  father's  safe  return  home;  but  such  happiness  as 
that  I  am  afraid  is  almost  too  much  to  ask  for." 


"I  don't  see  why  he  won't  come.  He  promised  to  be 
here  ever  so  lonir  ago." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert,  with  a  sigh,  "and  your  fa- 
tlier  would  never  have  broken  his  word  to  us  unless  some 
terrible  accident  had  happened.  Every  one  thinks  he  is 
dead,  or  we  should  have  had  some  word  from  him  by  this 
time;  but  I  can  not  give  up  all  hope — I  can  not." 

"Don't  cry,  mother."  and  Louis  seated  himself  by  his 
7i)other's  knee,  trying  to  soothe  the  grief  his  innocent  wish 
had  called  forth.  "I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  feel  bad 
when  I  said  I  wished  we  was  goin'  to  have  Thanksgivin' 
like  all  the  other  folks.  The  boys  was  tellin'  about  what 


50 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


they  would  have  at  their  homes,  an'  I  was  only  thiiikin' 
about  it.  But  I  don't  care  if  we  don't  have  anything  if 
only  you  won't  cry  so  much.'' 

Five  months  before,  Mr.  Herbert,  Louis's  father,  had 
left  his  home  in  Maine  011  the  little  schooner  Richmond, 
bound  on  a  trading-  cruise  South.  The  vessel  was  loaded 
with  sucli  produce  as  commanded  at  that  time  a  high 
price  in  the  Southern  markets,  and  Mr.  Herbert  had  be- 
lieved that  he  should  make  large  profits  from  the  venture. 
During  the  first  three  months  he  had  written  home  regu- 
larly, telling  of  the  prosperous  voyage  he  was  making-, 
and  then  the  letters  suddenly  ceased.  Beyond  the  fact 
that  he  had  sailed  from  Hampton  Eoads  with  a  return 
cargo  for  Portland  110  tidings  could  be  obtained,  and  it 
was  the  general  belief  in  Ellsworth  that  the  Richmond 
had  gone  down  off  Cape  Hatteras  with  all  on  board. 

Mrs.  Herbert  had  long  since  used  the  money  her  hus- 
band had  left  with  her,  and  011  this  day  before  Thanks- 
giving she  was  absolutely  penniless,  with  such  a  grief  in 
her  heart  as  the  lack  of  money  can  never  cause. 

"If  your  father  never  comes  back,  Louis,  you  are  the 
only  one  poor  mother  has  got  to  look  to  for  comfort  and 
aid.  You  must  try  to  be  a  man,  my  son  ;  and  even  though 
you  are  only  twelve  years  old,  remember  that  you  must 
do  all  you  can  to  take  your  father's  place." 

Just  then  the  clergyman  called,  as  he  had  done  every 
day  during  the  past  month,  and  Louis  went  away  by  him- 
self, thinking  earnestly  of  what  his  mother  had  said  about 
taking  his  father's  place,  although  he  was  completely  at  a 
loss  to  know  how  he  should  begin. 

He  knew  that  if  his  father  was  there  the  Thanksgiving 
dinner  would  be  procured  at  once,  and  he  thought  his 
mother's  words  had  some  reference  to  the  feast.  He  had 
been  talking  with  her  about  the  dinners  which  others  were 
going  to  have,  and  such  a  one  as  he  would  like.  Almost 
immediately  afterward  she  told  him  that  he  must  take  his 
father's  place,  and  he  could  only  understand  it  in  one  way: 
she  expected  that  he  would  provide  the  dinner. 

With  only  four  cents  in  his  savings-bank,  and  with  no 
idea  as  to  how  he  could  get  any  more,  the  task  which  he 
believed  his  mother  had  set  him  seemed  a  hard  one.  If 
it  was  summer,  he  might  earn  some  money  picking  ber- 
ries, or  by  driving  Mr.  Mansfield's  cow  to  pasture;  but  it 
was  winter,  the  lake  had  been  prisoned  in  ice  several 
weeks,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow.  There 
was  certainly  110  way  by  which  he  could  earn  any  mon- 
ey, and  he  must  think  of  some  other  plan  of  getting  the 
Thanksgiving  dinner. 

"I'll  go  over  to  Myrick  Snow's,  an'  see  if  he  won't  sell 
me  a  turkey,  an'  let  me  pay  for  it  workin'  for  him  next 
summer,"  he  said  to  himself  finally.  Then,  not  wanting 
his  mother  to  know  exactly  what  he  was  about  to  do,  but 
anxious  to  tell  her  so  much  of  his  plans  that  she  would 
not  be  worried  because  of  his  absence,  he  asked  through 
the  half-opened  sitting-room  door,  "Can  I  go  down  on  the 
lake,  mother,  an'  skate  as  far  as  Myrick  Snow's  ?" 

Mrs.  Herbert  knew  that  the  ice  was  strong  enough  to 
bear  any  number  of  boys,  for  not  only  had  nearly  every 
one  in  the  village  been  skating  on  it  during  the  past 
week,  but  those  who  had  occasion  to  drive  from  Ells- 
worth to  Machias  rode  down  the  entire  length  of  it,  thus 
shortening  the  distance  nearly  three  miles.  She  gave 
Louis  the  desired  permission,  cautioning  him  not  to  re- 
main at  Mr.  Snow's  very  long,  since  she  wanted  him  to  be 
home  again  before  night-fall. 

Myrick  Snow  lived  on  the  shore  of  Duck  Lake,  almost 
directly  opposite  Ellsworth,  and  in  the  winter,  when  The 
ice  was  in  good  condition  for  skating,  he  had  no  reason 
to  complain  of  a  lack  of  visitors,  for  every  boy  in  town 
thought  it  a  great  pleasure,  as  well  as  something  to  boast 
of,  that  he  had  skated  six  miles,  and  had  a  pleasant  visit 
at  the  farm-house  besides. 

"Ain't  goiii'  out  fur  fun,  are  yer,  Louis  'f  asked  Rube 


Downs,  as  he  saw  the  boy  seat  himself  on  a  log  at  the  edge 
of  the  ice  for  the  purpose  of  putting  on  his  skates. 

"Well — r.o — that  is, "and  Louis  hardly  knew  whether 
his  errand  should  be«called  one  of  pleasure  or  business, 
"I'm  groin'  over  to  Myrick  Snow's." 

"  Was  yer  thiiikin'  of  comin'  back  to-night  ?" 

"Yes,  of  course." 

"Then  don't  try  it.  lad.  You'll  get  over  there  easy 
enuf,  but  ther  gettin'  back  '11  be  mighty  hard  work,  an', 
besides,  I  reckon  it  '11  come  oil  to  snow  like  all  possessed 
'bout  twelve  o'clock." 

"I  guess  there  won't  be  snow  enough  to  spoil  the  skat- 
in'  before  night,"  replied  Louis,  thinking  how  willing  he 
would  be  to  do  something  even  harder  than  skating  in  a 
snow-storm  if  he  could  help  his  mother. 

"That's  what  yer  think,"  replied  Mr.  Downs,  with  what 
was  very  like  a  sarcastic  tone  in  his  voice;  "but  I've 
known  of  them,  an'  men  at  that,  what  couldn't  cross  Duck 
Lake  when  the  snow  was  flyin'.  Why.  lad,  it  ain't 
more'n  five  years  since  Eph  Howard  froze  to  death  on  this 
'ere  lake,  an'  when  we  found  him  he  wasn't  more'n  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  from  this  very  spot." 

"But,  you  see,  I've  got  to  go;"  and  Louis  intended  to 
convey  the  idea  that  if  he  was  bent  simply  on  pleasure,  he 
would  turn  back  because  of  the  warning. 

"Well,  ef  it's  must,  it's  must;  but  after  you  git  to  My- 
rick's,  you  stay  there  ef  it  begins  to  snow." 

Louis  had  110  opportunity  to  reply,  for  the  wind  had 
begun  to  force  him  along  as  soon  as  he  stood  on  his  skates, 
and  by  the  time  Rube  ceased  speaking  he  was  far  out  on 
the  lake,  driven  in  the  desired  direction  without  any  exer- 
tion on  his  part. 

Louis  did  not  stop  to  think  that  a  wind  that  could  force 
him  along  so  rapidly  would  present  a  dith'eult  obstacle  to 
fight  when  he  attempted  to  return  against  it.  Already  he 
fancied  that  he  had  the  turkey  in  his  possession,  and  was 
home  again,  proving  to  his  mother  that  he  could  take  his 
father's  place,  so  far  as  obtaining  food  for  the  Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner  was  concerned. 

Short  as  was  the  time  occupied  in  crossing  the  lake,  the 
tine  particles  of  snow  that  appeared  in  the  air  told  that 
Rube  Downs's  predictions  of  a  storm  were  about  to  come 
true.  But  there  was  nothing  very  angry-looking  in  these 
few  snow-Makes,  and  Louis  was  content  in  hoping  that 
he  should  be  home  again  before  the  storm  came  on. 

The  walk  from  the  shore  of  the  lake  to  Mr.  Snow's  com- 
fortable-looking old  farm-house  was  not  a  long  one,  and 
if  Louis  had  been  troubled  about  the  weather,  the  farmer's 
cheery  greeting  would  have  driven  it  from  his  mind. 

"Well,  Louis,  my  boy,  I'm  right  glad  to  see  you  !  How 
is  your  mother  this  cold  weather,  and  have  you  heard  from 
your  father  yet  ?" 

Louis's  reply  to  the  latter  question  was  given  in  a  tone 
so  sad  that  the  farmer  hastened  to  say: 

"  But  you  will  hear  from  him,  my  boy;  perhaps  not  to- 
day nor  to-morrow,  but  mark  my  words,  you  will  hear." 

"That  is  what  I  tell  mother,  Mr.  Snow;  but  she  says 
that  if  father  was  alive  he  would  have  sent  us  some  word 
before  this,  and  she  cries  mostly  all  the  time." 

It  was  some  time  after  this  before  the  old  farmer  ven- 
tured to  say  anything  more,  and  then  he  changed  the  coii- 
\  i-r-.- it  ion  by  asking: 

"  Didn't  you  have  anything  better  to  do  on  such  a  cold 
day  as  this  than  to  come  out  skating  ?  Even  if  I  was  as 
young  as  you  are,  I  believe  I  had  rather  be  by  the  side  of 
a  good  fire  to-day  than  on  Duck  Lake." 

"It  was  pretty  easy  gettin' over,  'cause  the  wind  takes 
a  feller  right  along;  but,  you  see,  I  had  to  come  to-day, 
if  it  was  cold,  an'  I'm  goiii'  to  start  back  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"So  you've  come  011  business,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  and  Louis  was  not  nearly  as  bold,  now  that 
the  time  had  come  for  him  to  speak,  as  he  had  thought  he 
would  be.  "  You  see,  to-morrow  is  Thaiiksgivin',  an'  mo- 


NOVEMUKi:  is.  1SS2. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


51 


ther  told  me  she  expected  me  to  take  father's  plan-.  She's 
spent  all  tin-  money  she  had.  an'  we  can't  have  no  kind  of 
a  Thanksgivin'  without  I  do  something  'bout  it.  I  don't 
know  (if  any  wa\  that  I  could  earn  any  money  now;  but 
I  come  t<>  SIM'  if  you  wouldn't  sell  me  a  turkey,  an'  let  me 
pay  you  for  it  next  summer.  I'll  do  any  kind  of  work,  an' 
jest  as  much  of  it  as  you  say  I  ought  to,  if  you'll  let  me  have 
a  turkey.  There's  only  two  of  us  now,  so  you  know  we 
wouldn't  want  a  very  large  one." 

Louis  had  spoken  very  rapidly  toward  the  last,  more  es- 
pecial ly  when  he  made  his  wishes  known,  and  as  he  paused 
for  a  it-ply,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  farmer  needed  a  won- 
derful ly  long  time  in  which  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to 
whether  or  110  he  would  agree  to  such  an  extended  credit. 
But  when  Mr.  Snow  did  finally  speak,  Louis  was  satisfied 
with  the  result  of  his  journe\  . 

"Let  you  have  a  turkey.'  Of  course  I  will,  my  bay, 
and  you  shall  have  tin-  largest  and  fattest  in  the  flock 
without  any  thought  of  pa\  'mir  for  it." 

"But  I  don't  want  you  to  give  me  one;  I  only  want 
you  to  sell  it  to  me.  an'  let  me  work  to  pay  for  it." 

"You  shall  have  it  in  any  way  you  choose,  and  in  the 
morning   I'll  send   over  everything  to  go  witli  it.       If  I'd 
had  an\    idea   I  hat  your  mother  hadn't  enough  to  see  her- 
self through  nicely,  she  should  have   had  her  Thanks". iv 
ing  dinner  before  this." 

It  was  not  long  after  this  IK- fore  the  hired  man,  acting 
under  Ihe  farmer's  instructions,  brought  into  the  house 
a  niceh  dressed  turkey,  big  enough  to  serve  as  dinner  [or 
a  much  larger  lamily  than  Mrs.  I  lerbert's,  and  Mr.  Snou 
said,  as  it  \\aslaidb\  Louis's  chair: 

"  There,  my  boy.  I'll  sell  you  I  hat.  and  when  I'm  ready 
for  Noll  to  pay  me  I'll  call  on  JTOU.  Nou  if  you'll  sta\ 
all  night  with  us,  I'll  carr\  \  on  over  to  lou  n  in  1  he  morn 
ing  when  1  take  the  other  things  to  your  mother;  but  if 
you  think  she'd  worry  about  you  it's  time  to  be  startin', 
for  I'm  afraid  we're  goin'  to  have  a  storm." 

Louis  was  quite  certain  that  his  mother  would  be  anx- 
ious regarding  him  if  he  remained  away  from  home  all 
Iiight,  anil  after  repeating  thai  he  uoiild  be  ready  to  pay 
for  the  turkey  in  work  at  any  lime,  lie  started  otl'.  the 
Thanksgiving  dinner  hanging  over  his  .shoulder. 

I'Yom  Ihe  time  he  left  Mr.  Snou  's  home  the  airbad  been 
full  of  line  flakes  of  snow;  lull  it  \\  as  not  until  he  was 
nearly  a  third  of  the  distance  across  the  lake  thai  it  came 
down  in  a  thick  storm  that  prevented  him  from  seeing 
more  than  twenl\  feet  in  any  direction.  The  whirling 
flakes  bewildered  the  boy  to  such  an  extent  that  it  seem- 
ed as  if  he  was  turning  round  and  round  like  a  top,  while 
it  was  an  absolute  impossibility  for  him  to  keep  in  his  mind 
the  direction  from  which  he  had  come  or  that  in  which 
he  should  go.  lie  lost  all  idea  of  where  the  town  was, 
and  it  was  only  at  intervals  that  he  could  tell  whether  he- 
was  going  against  the  wind  or  with  it. 

The  falling  snow  covered  the  ice  until  Louis  found  it 
difficult  to  skate  through  it,  while  the  turkey,  which  he 
still  carried  on  his  shoulder,  weighed  him  down  more  find 
more,  until  the  time  came  when  he  sank  down  upon  the 
cold,  treacherous  carpet  that  was  being  spread  out  over  the 
lake,  entirely  exhausted. 

"  I'll  stay  here  jest  a  little  while,  an'  then  I'll  take  the 
turkey  home  to  mother,"  he  muttered,  as  he  gave  himself 
up  to  that  fatal  slumber  which  the  Frost-king  throws 
around  those  whom  he  would  make  his  victims.  Despite 
the  howling  wind,  the  falling  snow,  and  the  piercing  cold, 
Louis  Herbert  closed  his  eyes  in  what  was  to  him  a  sweet 
sleep,  all  forgetful  of  the  fate  that  had  overtaken  Eph  How- 
ard, when  he  was  but  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  home. 

It  was  Thanksgiving-eve,  and  not  far  from  the  shore  of 
Duck  Lake  a  woman  waited  for  the  return  of  her  son, 
even  while  she  mourned  her  husband  as  one  dead. 

' '  Come,  get  on  there ;  don't  stop  here,  or  we  sha'n't  get 


home  as  soon  as  if  we  had  stuck  to  the  longest  way  round  !'' 
shouted  a  man  to  his  horse,  as  the  animal  suddenly  halted 
before  a  mound  of  snow  that  lay  directly  in  front  of  him. 

Words  seemed  to  have  no  ell'ect,  but  when  the  whip 
was  used  vigorously  by  the  impatient  driver,  the  fright- 
ened steed  dashed  ahead,  nearly  overturning  the  sleigh 
as  one  of  the  runners  struck  the  mound  which  had  ap- 
peared simply  as  a  drift  of  snow  piled  up  by  the  wind. 

"  Hello!''  cried  the  man,  as  he  tried  as  hard  to  stop  the 
horse  as  he  had  to  urge  him  on  ;  "  whatcan  that  be  out  here 
on  the  lake  ?  I'm  sure  we  haven't  got  near  the  shore  yet." 

It  is  possible  the  driver  remembered  the  sad  fate  of  Eph 
Howard,  for  at  the  expense  of  considerable  time  and  trou- 
ble he  stopped  his  horse,  and  getting  out  of  the  sleigh, 
walked  back  to  the  mound  of  snow  over  which  he.  had 
so  nearly  upset. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  it's  a  boy!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  pushed 
away  the  snow  with  his  foot.  "It's  a  boy  not  much  lar- 
ger than  my  own  little  Louis,  an'  huggin'  a  turkey  that's 
frozen  nearly  as  stiff  as  I'm  afraid  he  is." 

The  situation  would  not  warrant  much  delay,  for  each 
moment  was  precious  if  the  child's  life  was  to  be  saved. 
Hastily  placing  him  in  the  sleigh,  the  belated  traveller 
drove  on.  keenly  alive  to  the  danger  he  himself  was  in  if 
he  allowed  his  horse  to  swerve  ever  so  slightly  from  the 
right  course. 

Half  an  hour  later  Mrs.  Herbert,  who  had  been  anxious 
ly  watching  for  Louis's  return,  ran  into  the  yard,  all  heed- 
less of  the  storm,  as  she  saw  a  sleigh  draw  up  in  front  of 
her  house-. 

She  had  hardly  reached  the  gate  before  the  muffled  man 
who  had  found  Louis  on  the  lake  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
covered  with  snow  as  he  was.  and  then  she-  knew  that  the 
husband  she  had  mourned  as  dead  had  returned. 

We  must  n't  stop  to  talk  now,"  he  said,  after  the  brief- 
est of  brief  embraces,  "for  I've  picked  up  a  poor  boy  on 
the  lake  u  ho.  I'm  afraid,  is  done  for";  and  in  a  moment 
more  he  had  carried  the  child  into  the  house,  where  it 
could  be  seen  who  the  "  poor  hoy"  was. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  saying  that  everything  was 
done  to  restore  him  to  consciousness,  and  while  his  mo- 
ther worked  over  him,  the  father  ran  at  once  for  the  near- 
est physician. 

Louis  had  been  into  the  very  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  and  had  he  not  been  rescued  as  soon  as  he  was,  he 
would  never  have  retraced  his  steps  to  life.  As  it  was,  he 
was  not  restored  to  consciousness  for  several  hours,  and 
then  his  thoughts  were  on  the  same  subject  that  had  occu- 
pied them  when  he  sank  down  upon  the  snow  in  that 
slumber  which  had  so  nearly  been  his  last. 

"I  got  the  Thanksgivin'  dinner  for  you,  mother,"  he 
said.  But  in  another  moment  he  understood  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  necessity  of  his  trying  to  take  his  fa- 
ther's place,  for  both  his  parents  were  bending  over  him. 

It  was  a  happy  day,  and  one  truly  of  thanksgiving,  that 
followed  Louis's  rescue  and  his  father's  return.  There  was 
no  lack  of  dinner  in  the  Herbert  household,  for  Mr.  Her- 
bert had  not  been  wrecked,  nor  had  he  lost  his  property. 
The  schooner  Richmond  had  encountered  a  heavy  gale, 
and  had  been  blown  far  out  of  her  course;  but  she  had 
carried  all  on  board  of  her  safely,  and  the  voyage  had 
been  a  prosperous  one. 

"You  can't  believe  how  glad  I  was  when  I  found  I  had 
brought  the  turkey  an'  father  home  at  the  same  time," 
Louis  said,  when  he  was  telling  the  story  of  his  adventure 
on  the  ice,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  believe  that  his  father 
was  quite  as  glad  as  he  was. 

Myrick  Snow  was  paid  for  his  turkey,  but  not  by  Louis's 
work  ou  the  farm.  When  he  came  over  the  next  morning 
to  bring  the  "  fixings"  to  go  with  the  fowl  that  he  had 
promised,  it  was  not  difficult  to  persuade  him  to  go  back 
for  his  family,  in  order  that  they  all  might  partake  of  the 
dinner  which  had  so  nearly  cost  Louis  his  life. 


52 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  SEA  EATS  UP  THE  HILL. 

BY  CHARLES  BARNARD. 

TT^VERY  boy  or  girl  who  has  travelled  about  much  in 
JLj  the  cars  knows  that  the  railroad  is  made  as  nearly  lev- 
el as  possible.  In  order  to  do  this,  the  builders  of  the  roads 
cut  through  the  hills  and  fill  up  the  valleys.  Where  a 
place  is  cut  through  a  hill  it  is  called  a  cutting,  and  the 


THE   SEA    EATING    UP   THE    HILL. 

raised  parts  over  the  lowlands  are  called  embankments. 
In  a  cutting  the  banks  slope  inward  toward  the  track, 
in  an  embankment  they  slope  downward  and  away  from 
the  tracks  on  each  side. 

Now  the  curious  part  of  this  work  is  that  whenever  a 
cutting  is  made  every  hill  behaves  in  a  different  way.  If 
the  hill  is  composed  of  hard  rock,  the  cutting  may  be  nar- 
row, and  only  a  little  wider  at  the  top  than  at  the  bottom. 
If  the  hill  is  full  of  loose  broken  stones,  the  cutting  must  be 
wider  at  the  top.  If  it  is  made  up  of  pasty  and  sticky 
clay,  it  must  be  still  wider.  A  gravelly  hill  will  need  a 
wider  cutting  still,  and  in  a  sandy  hill  the  cutting  will  be 
very  wide.  In  each  hill — the  rocky,  the  stony,  the  clayey, 
gravelly,  or  sandy  hill — the  sides  of  the  cutting  will  have  a 
different  slope.  It  is  the  same 
with  the  embankment.  If  it  is 
made  of  sand,  it  will  be  broad 
and  with  gently  sloping  sides ; 
if  it  is  made  of  stones  and  rock, 
it  will  be  narrow,  with  steep 
sides. 

Of  course  the  man  who 
makes  the  cutting  would  pre- 
fer to  have  a  narrow  one.  It 
is  much  more  easily  and  quick- 
ly made,  and  does  not  cost  so 
much.  The  truth  is,  the  man 
can  not  help  himself,  for  ev- 
ery hill  decides  the  matter  for 
him.  He  begins  to  cut  into 
the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  at 
once  the  sides  tumble  in.  He 
carries  away  the  rocks  or  grav- 
el, or  whatever  it  may  be,  and 
digs  again,  and  more  of  the 
sides  fall  in.  After  a  while 
this  falling  down  of  the  sides 
of  the  cut  stops,  and  the  man 
says  the  hill  has  found  its 


"angle  of  repose."  By  this  queer  expression  he  means 
that  the  rocks,  or  clay,  or  sand  will  rest  or  repose,  and  not 
slide  down  any  more.  Now  stones,  or  loose  rock,  or  clay,  or 
sand  have  each  their  own  angle  or  slope.  In  every  sandy 
hill  the  slope  will  be  the  same,  in  every  clay  bank  or  grav- 
elly hill  it  will  always  be  the  same,  each  kind  having  its 
own  particular  slope. 

Spread  a  sheet  of  paper  upon  a  table,  and  upon  it  pour 
some  fine  salt,  so  as  to  make 
a  little  conical  heap.  Near 
it  make  a  heap  of  powdered 
sugar,  flour,  Indian  meal,  or 
house  sand.  Eacli  heap  will 
have  its  own  angle  of  repose, 
and  by  looking  at  the  heaps 
across  the  tops  you  will  see 
that  the  slope  or  angle  of  re- 
pose is  quite  different  in  each. 
On  the  shores  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay,  round  Boston  Light, 
and  along  the  coast  toward 
Marshfleld  and  Scituate,  are 
many  smooth  and  rounded 
hills,  bare,  grassy,  and  breezy 
on  top,  and  with  the  roaring 
surf  beating  at  their  feet.  On 
the  east  and  northeast  side  of 
every  hill  is  a  terrible  scar  or 
torn  and  ragged  place,  where 
the  grass  hangs  in  wretched 
rags  along  the  top,  and  the 
sand  and  gravel  are  continu- 
ally breaking  off  and  rolling 
down  into  the  water.  The 

hills  are  green  on  top  and  along  the  western  sides.  To 
the  east  they  are  steep  and  yellow.  These  broken  sides  of 
the  hills  all  face  the  sea,  and  are  called  cliffs.  Some  of 
these  cliffs  are  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  by  standing  at  the 
edge  you  can  look  almost  straight  down  into  the  surf  and 
far  out  over  the  wide  blue  sea. 

There  is  a  great  workman  busy  here.  These  hills  are 
being  undermined  and  eaten  away  by  the  sea.  The  surf 
that  breaks  at  the  foot  of  each  cliff  washes  out  the  clay 
and  sand,  and  down  fall  the  loose  stones,  gravel,  and  soil 
above.  No  grass  can  grow  there,  nor  bushes  find  a  foot- 
hold, for  the  face  of  the  cliff  is  continually  sliding  down 
and  melting  away  in  the  surf. 

On  some  of  these  hills  the  farmers  have  built  stone 


THE    STONE    WALL    PROTECTING    THE    HILL. 


NOVEMBER  28,  1S82. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


53 


walls  to  divide  the  land  into  pastures  for  sheep  and  cows. 
Every  wintry  storm  that  drives  the  roaring  and  foaming 
surf  close-  up  to  the  foot  of  the  hills  causes  pieces  of  the 
cliffs  to  fall  down.  Sometimes  a  large  slice  will  go  down 
at  once.  "  Slumping,"  the  boys  would  call  it.  for  the  grass 
goes  right  down,  and  sometimes  takes  a  piece  of  the  stone 
wall  with  it. 

The  sea  is  eating  up  the  hills.  It  works  very  slowly. 
The  surf  does  not  reach  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  at  every  tide, 
and  perhaps  in  a  year  you  could  hardly  tell  that  the  hill 
had  changed.  Perhaps  only  a  foot  or  two  of  the  grass  at 
the  top  would  fall;  but  still  the  work  goes  on,  never  hur- 
rying, never  stopping. 

Now  the  wasting  away  of  these  hills  would  not  be  a 
matter  of  much  consequence;  they  are  not  very  valuable, 
and  they  are  melting  away  very  slowly ;  but  there  is  some- 
thing else  going  on  here.  We  have  learned  from  our 
rambles  by  the  sea  that  beaches  can  walk,  that  sand  and 
gravel  can  travel  for  miles,  and  overwhelm  rivers,  and 
make  great  changes  on  the  coast.  These  Massachusetts 
hills  are  always  accompanied  by  beaches  or  sunken  bars 
that  join  one  hill  to  another,  as  at  Nantasket  Beach,  near 
Boston  Harbor,  and  at  Scituate  and  Marsh  field  beaches. 
These  beaches  and  bars  are  the  ruins  of  the  hills.  The 
sea  tears  them  down,  and  spreads  them  over  the  bottom 
of  the  water,  the  stones  in  one  plae&and  the  sand  in  another. 
In  one  place  in  Boston  Harbor  a  hill  has  entirely  disappear- 
ed, and  left  only  a  long  and  crooked  sand- 
bar in  its  place.  The  bar  is  in  the  way  of 
ships,  and  the  government  had  to  build  a 
stone  beacon  on  the  spot  to  mark  the 
grave  of  the  hill. 

While  nobody  cares  very  much  for  the 
loss  of  the  hills,  the  sand-bars  that  the  sea 
builds  between  and  about  them  are  a  se- 
rious matter.  As  long  as  the  sand  and 
gravel  kept  quiet  on  shore,  piled  up  in 
high  hills,  nobody  cared.  When  the  sea 
ate  up  the  hills,  and  scattered  their  bones 
all  about,  it  became  a  serious  question  as 
to  what  should  be  done  about  it.  The 
sand  filled  up  the  harbors,  and  ships  were 
wrecked  upon  the  hidden  bars. 

Not  long  ago  I  went  down  among  these 
torn  and  ragged  hills.  Here  is  a  picture 
from  a  photograph  I  made  upon  the  beach 
at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  cliffs.  In  front  is 
the  beach  at  low  tide.  Beyond  is  the  hill 
cut  right  down  as  if  with  a  gigantic  knife. 
The  sand  and  gravel  has  slid  down  till  it 
found  its  angle  of  repose,  and  there  it  rests. 
When  people  found  the  sea  was  tearing 
down  the-  hills  and  lilli.'ig  up  Boston  Har- 
bor with  the  ruins,  they  decided  that 
something  must  be  done  to  stop  the  work. 
The  government  surveyors  came  and  look- 
ed at  the  place,  and  said  that  a  stone  wall 
— a  sea-wall  they  called  it — would  stop 
the  mischief.  Then  great  blocks  of  gran- 
ite were  brought  to  the  foot  of  the  hills, 
and  massive  stone  walls  were  built  upon 
the  beaches.  Then  a  curious  thing  hap- 
pened. The  surf  beat  upon  the  wall,  but 
as  it  was  very  strong  it  could  not  move 
the  wall,  nor  could  it  get  over  the  top  to 
eat  into  the  hill.  As  by  magic  the  whole 
tli ing  stopped.  The  hills  were  saved,  and 
the  bars  stopped  growing. 

The  second  picture  is  taken  from  the 
top  of  the  sea-wall  at  Point  Allerton,  op- 
posite Boston  Light.  The  hill  here  had 
wasted  nearly  all  away,  and  there  is  not 
much  left.  At  the  right  you  can  see  the 


beach  below  the  wall,  and  at  the  left  all  that  is  left  of 
the  old  hill.  This  same  wall  also  protects  the  larger  hill 
seen  in  the  other  picture,  as  Point  Allerton  is  farther  out 
in  the  water,  and  acts  as  a  breakwater.  For  many  miles 
along  the  shore  in  Boston  Bay  these  great  walls  have  been 
built.  It  has  cost  a  great  sum  of  money  and  many  years 
of  labor;  but  the  sea  is  conquered,  and  the  poor  old  hills 
that  were  being  eaten  up  have  been  saved.  Hotels  and 
houses  have  been  built  upon  them,  and  thousands  of  peo- 
ple go  there  every  summer  to  roam  over  the  grassy  slopes, 
or  along  the  glorious  beaches  and  by  the  sea.  It  is  one 
of  the  strangest  and  most  beautiful  places  on  all  our  coast, 
for  the  sea  has  cut  the  hills  into  all  sorts  of  fantastic  and 
lovely  shapes,  and  now  it  has  all  stopped,  and  perhaps  for 
many  years  this  curious  work  of  the  sea  will  stand  still. 
What  will  happen  next  no  one  can  tell. 


NAN. 


AUTHOR  op  " 


BY   MRS.  JOHN'   LILLIE, 

BARGAIN,"  "AUNT  HUTU'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

T^VERYTHINGr  in  Mrs.  Grange's  large  fine  house,  the 
_Cj  sudden  change  in  her  circumstances,  the  new  clothes 
and  new  prospects,  had  kept  Nan  very  much  subdued  be- 
fore they  started  on  their  wonderful  journey;  but  by  the 


PHYLLIS    TELLS    MISS    ROLF    ABOUT    THE    JOURNEY. 


54: 


HATCPETVS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


time  they  were  fairly  on  the  train  and  Hearing'  Beverley. 
Miss  Phyllis  Rolf  found  she  had  her  hands  full  in  keeping 
pace  with  her  little  charge.  To  begin  with,  Nan's  old  "  flib- 
berty-gibberty"  ways,  as  Mrs.  Rupert  used  to  call  them, 
had  re-asserted  themselves.  She  had  to  have  her  hat  and 
her  collar  and  her  tie  re-arranged  half  a  dozen  times,  and 
even  her  face  washed  and  her  hair  brushed  twice;  and 
then  she  asked  Phyllis  a  dozen  questions  at  a  time.  Fi- 
nally Phyllis  said,  rather  peremptorily,  "Nan,  if  you  will 
si^  perfectly  still  for  ten  minutes — we  shall  soon  be  in  Bev- 
erley— I'll  answer  some  of  your  questions." 

They  had  chairs  in  the  parlor-car,  and  Nan  wheeled 
hers  around  with  a  very  bright  expression.  She  wanted 
to  know  something  more  definite  of  her  aunt  Letitia  and 
the  house  at  Beverley.  It  seemed  too  bad  that  it  had  be- 
gun to  rain,  and  that  it  would  be  .nearly  dark  when  .they 
gpt  there;  but  then  everything  couldn't  go  on  being  just 
perfectly  delightful. 

"  It  is  a  large  brick  house,"  said  Phyllis.  "There  is  a 
short  drive  up  to  the  front  door,  but  a  nice  lawn  and  gar- 
dens at  the  side;  and,  by-the-way,  your  aunt  will  be  very 
particular  about  your  going  into  the  garden  without  her 
permission-.  She. never  allows  anyone  to  pick  flowers  by 
herself." 

"  Is  she  very  cross  ?"  said  Nan. 

Phyllis  laughed. 

"  Oh  no,"  she  answered.  "  But,  Nan — I  had  better  tell 
you — she  is  rather  peculiar  in  some  ways.  She  never  lilccs 
one  to  contradict  her  or  to  have  opinions  of  one's  own. 
You  must  always  seem  to  think  just  as  she  does." 

"  But  suppose  I  don't  *"  said  honest  Nan,  opening  her 
eyes  to  a  perfect  stare. 

Phyllis  had  a  very  pretty  white  forehead,  so  smooth 
that  every  little  line  showed  in  it;  and  though  it  was  a 
very  small  frown,  Nan  saw  one  distinctly  between  her 
eyebrows. 

"Then  you  must  try  and  think  so,"  she  answered. 
"Now  I'll  tell  you  more  about  the  house.  There  are  a 
great  many  windows,  some  looking  on  the  gardens,  some 
toward  the  street.  The  street  just  there  is  rather  hilly ; 
indeed,  '  Rolf  House,'  as  it  is  always  called,  is  near  the  top 
of  the  street.  You  go  in  by  a  wide  door,  and  there  is  a 
square  hall,  with  a  staircase  going  -up  at  the  left  side. 
There  is  a  big  fire-place  in  the  hall;  on  one  side  is  a  room 
called  the  black-walnut  parlor,  on  the  other  a  long  draw- 
ing-room. The  library  and  the  dining-room  are  on  the 
same  floor.  Everything  is  very  handsome." 

"So  I'll  have  to  be  careful  of  the  things,"  said  Nan, 
who  was  perfectly  quiet,  listening. 

Phyllis  laughed. 

"You  won't  have  to  think  much  of  that,  I  imagine," 
she  answered.  "You  are  to  be  well  looked  after,  I  can 
assure  .you,  Nan." 

Nan  waited  a  minute,  and  then  said, 
•    "Kept  very  strict,  do  you  mean,  Cousin  Phyllis  ?" 

"  Very,"  said  Phyllis. 

"Well,  where  do  you  live  ?"  asked  Nan,  after  pucker- 
ing her  face  up  into  a  dozen  wrinkles  over  this  new  idea. 

"We  live  in  College  Street,"  said  Phyllis,  "about  half  a 
mile  from  '  Rolf  House.'  Ours  is  a  rather  shabby  house, 
though  it's  large.  Did  I  tell  you  about  my  sisters  and 
brothers  ?" 

Nan's  face  lighted  up  instantly  with  one  of  those  sweet 
tinsel  fish  or  unconscious  looks  which  made  her  positively 
pretty. 

"  No,"  she  said;  "but  do,  please  do,  Cousin  Phyllis." 

"Well,  there  are  six  of  them — Lance  and  Laura,  and 
the  twins  Joan  and  Dick,  and  the  younger  boys,  AFfred 
and  Bertie." 

"  All  my  cousins  ?"said  Nan,  feeling  as  if  the  world  was 
getting  to  be  a  very  big  place. 

"  Every  one,"  laughed  Phyllis. 

And  now  in  the  pale  wintry  dusk  they  began  to  see  the 


lights  of  the  town,  and  Nan's  heart  beat  very  quickly  when 
the  train  stopped,  and  she  found  herself  following  Phyllis 
out  on  to  the  covered  platform,  where  she  saw  a  servant  in 
livery  come  up  respectfully,  and  stand  by  while  her  cous- 
in gave  him  directions  about  the  trunks. 

Nan's  education  had  been  of  the  most  fragmentary  kind; 
but  it  so  happened  that  she  had  read  two  or  three  novels,  or 
stories,  in  which  the  heroines  had  arrived  at  a  railway  sta- 
tion, to  be  met  by  fine  servants  in  livery,  and  driven  to 
fine  houses,  where  they  were  received  in  great  state.  Now 
as  she  stood,  a  little  half-frightened  figure  clinging  to 
Phyllis's  side,  it  flashed,  across  her  mind  that  she  was  just 
such  a  heroine,  and  it  gave  her  a  great  deal  of  sudden 
courage.  She  thought  of  the  big  brick  house  with  all  its 
splendors,  and  how  in  a  short  time  she  would  make  a  sort 
of  state  entry  there.  Would  there  be  a  row  of  servants  in 
the  hall,  she  wondered  ?  There  would  be  something  very 
especial  to  welcome  her — Nan  felt  she  could  be  sure  of 
that. 

And  then  Phyllis  said,  "Come,  Nan, "and  they  went  out 
of  the  noisy  station  in  the  dusk,  and  up  a  flight  of  steps, 
where,  just  as  Nan  expected,  a  very  grand  carriage  was 
waiting.  In  a  moment  more  they  were  whirling  away 
through  a  pretty,  hilly  town,  where  the  shop  windows 
were  just  being  lighted,  and  where  there  was  a  long  bridge 
over  a  river,  and  a  line  of  hills  in  the  distance.  Nan 
felt  sure  she  was  really  like  one  of  her  dearest  heroines, 
and  only  regretted  that  her  name  was  so  short  and  unro- 
m an  tic. 

"I  shall  try  and  imagine  I  am  called  Florizel,"  she 
thought,  "or  Alexandrina."  And  before  she  had  come  to 
any  decision  about  the  two  names,  the  carriage  rolled  in  a 
gateway,  beyond  which  Nan  could  see  the  large  brick 
house,  with  its  many  windows  irregularly  lighted. 

CHAPTER  X. 

NAN  quite  forgot  she  was  Florizel  in  the  bewilderment 
of  the  next  few  moments.  The  door  was  opened  widely; 
a  stream  of  light  poured  out  upon  the  gravel-path,  and  in 
the  glow  she  saw  a  stately  old  lady  standing  with  an  elder- 
ly man-servant  at  her  side.  Then  in  a  confused  way  she 
heard  the  lady  say,  "How  do  you  do,  Aiinice  ?"  and  she 
felt  herself  being  kissed,  while  as  if  in  a  dream  she  found 
herself  following  the  old  lady  and  Phyllis  down  the  hall 
and  into  a  square,  primly  furnished  parlor.  Here  Nan's 
heart  began  to  beat  a  little  less  wildly,  and  she  took  cour- 
age to  look  about  her.  She  looked  first,  of  course,  at  Miss 
Rolf,  who  stood  talking  to  Phyllis  in  ail  under-tone  about 
the  journey,  and  was  apparently  saying  something  about 
Nan  herself.  Stately  and  severe  she  no  doubt  looked,  yet 
Nan  felt  drawn  toward  her  aunt  in  a  curious  way  she 
could  not  explain.  Her  face  must  once  have  looked  like 
Phyllis's,  Nan  thought:  there  was  the  same  finely  chiselled 
outline  of  feature,  the  straight  nose,  and  the  well-defined 
eyebrows;  but  Miss  Rolf,  for  all  her  years,  had  something 
in  her  face  which  Nan  liked  better  than  anything  about 
pretty,  blooming  Cousin  Phyllis. 

Sitting  over  by  the  tall,  old-fashioned  chimney-piece, 
little  Nan  took  note  of  the  old  lady's  exquisite  silver- 
gray  silk  dress,  the  white  lace  kerchief  and  cap,  the  beau- 
tiful white  hands,  and  the  flash  of  opals  in  a  brooch  at 
her  throat.  Where  had  the  child  ever  seen  anything  so 
queenly  and  beautiful  ?  Miss  Rolf  did  not  guess  what 
was  going  011  in  the  mind  of  her  little  niece  that  first 
ten  minutes.  Inwardly  Nan  had  decided  she  was  quite 
willing  to  submit  to  her  aunt's  rule,  and  that  she  should 
like  to  be  with  her.  The  room  was  undoubtedly  the 
black-walnut  parlor  of  which  Phyllis  had  spoken;  it  was 
furnished  in  dark  colors,  but  everything  was  refined 
and  old-fashioned  and  comfortable.  There  were  can- 
dles lighted  in  tall  silver  candlesticks  on  the  chimney- 
piece  and  on  a  side-table,  and  a  wood  fire  glowed  on  the 


28,  1882. 


• 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


55 


hearth.  Presently  the  door  opened,  and  the  man-servant 
Nun  had  scon  came  in  with  a  large  tray,  which  he  set 
(l»\vn  mi  a  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  then  Miss 
Rolf  broke  oft'  her  conversation  with  Phyllis,  and  turned 
to  liltle  Xan. 

"I  presume  you  feel  hungry,  my  dear,"  she  said,  kind- 
ly; "and  you  too,  Phyllis.  I  thought  you  would  like 
something  to  eat  in  here." 

Phyllis  had  thrown  herself  down  in  a  large  easy-chair 
near  the  tire.  "How  good  of  you.  Cousin  Letty  '."  she 
said,  with  a  long-drawn  sigh.  "  Everything  always  looks 
so  home-like  and  tempting  here." 

Miss  Rolf  only  smiled  in  a  quiet  way,  and  watched  the 
servant  critically  while  he  set  out  the  dainty  little  supper, 
to  which  she  invited  the  travellers,  pouring  out  their  tea, 
and  urging  the  biscuits  and  oystei-s  and  other  things  upon 
Xan,  \\  ho,  hungry  as  she  was,  felt  almost  too  shy  to  eat. 

"And  now  I  must  go,"  Phyllis  said,  after  she  had  fin- 
ished her  supper.  "Good  by,  little  Xan;  I'll  see  you  in 
the  morning.1' 

"  Xo.  Phyllis  dear,"  said  Miss  Rolf,  quietly,  ''it  will  be 
as  well  not  to  come  to  see  the  child  to-morrow.  I  think 
she  will  better  be  quiet." 

Xan  said  nothing;  hut  as  Cousin  Phyllis  kissed  her 
good -by,  she  eliing  to  her  fervently,  a  wild  longing  to  run 
away  back  to  Hroiniield.  even  to  the  butter  shop,  coming 
over  her.  But  ill  a  moment  the  door  had  closed  upon 
1'hyllis's  figure.  She  was  alone  wit  h  her  aunt,  and  a  feel- 
ing came  over  her.  for  the  first  time,  that  a  new  life  really 
had  begun. 

"You   had   better  eat  something  more."  Miss  Rolf  was 

saying.     "No.'    Well,  then,  perhaps,  ray  dear,  you  would 

like  to  go  to  bed.       I  will   not  keep  you   up  for  prayers  to 
night.      Generally  I  read  them  al  half  past  eight." 

Miss  Rolf  touched  a  bell,  and  when  it  u  as  niisu  eied  she 
said,  "  Please  send  Mrs.  Jleriot  here."  and  in  a  moment  a 
pleasant  faced  elderly  woman  appeared,  who  looked  at 
Nan  in  a  very  kindly,  critical  way. 

"This  is  Miss  Annice  Rolf.  Mrs.  TIeriot,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "Will  you  take  her  up  to  her  room,  and  you  need 
not  slay  with  her  after  she  is  in  bed.  (iood-night,  my 
child."' 

Xan  kissed  Miss  Rolf  very  timidly,  and  went  away  with 
Mrs.  Hi-riot,  who  held  her  little  hand  in  a  firm  grasp  l  hal 
was  very  comforting. 

They  passed  down  the  matted  hall  and  up  a  staircase 
to  the  left.  Above,  a  narrow  corridor  led  to  three  little 
steps  which  dipped  down  into  Nan's  room.  It  was  small 
and  comfortable— not  very  bright,  perhaps,  for  all  the  fur- 
niture was  old-fashioned  anil  sombre;  but  there  was  a 
window  with  a  deep  seal  in  it.  and  some  mteresting-look- 
ing  pictures  on  the  walls.  The  bed-curtains  were  of 
chint/..  the  pattern  of  which  was  a  series  of  pictures,  and 
the  wall-paper  repeated  a  design  of  a  garden  and  a  terrace, 
along  which  a  lady  and  gentleman  were  walking.  Alto- 
gether, Nan  thought,  as  Mrs.  Heriot  lighted  the  candles, 
that  she  should  like  her  new  room  and  enjoy  the  walls 
and  the  window. 

She  wished  Mrs.  Heriot  would  talk  a,  little  more  while 
she  helped  her  to  undress,  but,  except  for  asking  her  one 
or  two  things  about  the  journey,  she  made  no  remarks. 
When  she  had  tucked  Nan  into  bed,  she  just  nodded  at 
her  and  smiled,  and,  taking  the  candle  in  her  hand,  walk- 
ed away,  her  footsteps  sounding  softly  until  she  was  down- 
stairs. 

Nan  lay  still,  half  afraid,  but  on  the  whole  comfortable. 
She  had  so  much  to  think  and  wonder  about !  To-morrow 
would  certainly  be  a  wonderful  day.  But  why  should  her 
aunt  object  to  Phyllis's  coming  back  ?  Nan's  little  brain 
soon  got  all  sorts  of  things  in  a  tangle,  and  she  fell  asleep 
,  to  dream  that  she  was  in  Bromfleld,  selling  butter  to  Mrs. 
Heriot. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF  THE  KING'S  ARMOR. 

BY  E.  M.  TI!.U;UAII{. 

AT  Goslar,  in  his  chamber  deep 
The  youthful  monarch  lay  asleep. 
The  gates  were  barred,  ami  guarded  all; 
No  sound  was  heard'  in  bower  or  hall; 
You  could  not  hear  a  footfall  creep 
AVhere  young  King  Henry  lay  asleep. 

But  what  avails  the  strongest  will. 

Unless  the  Lord  say.  "Peace,  be  still!" 

The  storm  wind  whistle-;  through  the  hall. 

And  heavily  the  rain-drops  fall; 

The  hot   and  sultry  day  is  o'er. 

And  loud  and  tierce  the  thunders  roar. 

On  tiptoe  light   the  warders  glide; 
The  King  must  rest,  whate'er  betide. 
If  'mid  the  tempest  he  can  sleep. 
They  will  hot  stir  his  slumbers  deep; 
Till  suddenly,  with  awful  crash, 
Beside  them  glares  the  lightning  Hash. 

Then  at  their  master's  danger  stirred, 
The  servants  run,  a,  pallid  herd. 
The  crashing  thunder's  awful  roar 
And  rushing  rain  are  heard  no  more; 
From  every  side  rq-echoes  then 
The  hurried  tramp  of  armed  men. 

The  folding-doors  they  open  wide, 

And.  fearful,  through   the  chamber  glide. 

Their  lord   they   tind  still  slumbering  lies; 

Unconscious  lie  of  danger  nigh; 

Upon    the   pillow   lying  bare, 

The  youthful  head  with  golden  hair. 

lint   >-word  and  shield  above  his  bed 
Show   Death   had   darted  overhead. 
As  ill  a   furnace  molten   well. 
Their  former  fashion  none  could  tell. 
The  lightning  left    il-   licry   trace- 
On  nothing  else  about  the  place. 

In  deep  ania/.c  the  warders  stand; 
The   King,  awaking,  seeks  his  brand. 
But.  slarlled   when   the  weapons  bright. 
So  strangely  altered,  meet   his  sight, 
Savs  only,  guessing  how   'twas  done. 
"So  Thou  \\.TI   here,  Thou  -Mighty  One! 

"Mclhought.  while  lying  on   my  bed, 

I   heard   Thy   hammer  overhead. 

And  saw.  (ireat   Smith.  Thy  furnace,  bright 

"With    tires  the  steel   to  temper  right. 

As.  in  my  dream.  I   thought    I   stood 

"Within  Thy  wondrous  Smithy  good." 

Quick  from  his  couch  the  monarch  sprung, 
Ami   in  his  hands  the  hammer  swung. 
To  finish,  like  a  valiant   man. 
The   uork   Iliat   Cod   Himself  began. 
Beneath  his  blows  the-  weapons  yield; 
Xew  fashion  take  both  sword  and  shield. 

For  many  a  year  he  filled  the  throne, 
And  many  a  royal  robe  put  on; 
Did  oft,  in  many  a  coat  of  mail, 
His  own  and  country's  foes  assail; 
But  never  other  sword  wonld  have 
Save  that  which  God  in  thunder  gave. 

Full  two-and-sixty  times  was  used 

The  shield  the  lightning's  flame  had  fused; 

Full  two-and-sixty  battles  saw 

His  sword  the  warlike  monarch  draw. 

And,  in  the  fight,  still  bright  as  new, 

That  sword  and  shield  were  ever  true. 

The  thunder  dubbed  him  Knight  that  day. — 

When  dead  upon  the  bier  he  lay. 

The  crown  and  sceptre  both  were  there 

All  tarnished  like  his  golden  hair; 

Yet  brightly  still  gleamed  shield  and  sword, 

As  bright  as  once  their  youthful  lord. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


* 


VOLUME  IV. 


FEEDING    THE    (JIU'HANS. 


MOSES  AMONG  THE  BULRUSHES. 

BY  WILLIAM  M.  TAYLOR,  D.D. 

THE  picture  on  the  opposite  page  tells  most  beautifully 
a  part  of  the  story  of  the  finding  of  Moses.  The  rest 
of  it  is  known,  we  are  sure,  to  all  our  readers.  The  hard- 
hearted Pharaoh,  defeated  in  other  efforts  to  reduce  the 
numher  of  the  captive  Israelites,  enacted  a  law  that  every 
little  boy  that  was  born  in  a  Hebrew  household  should  be 
cast  into  the  Nile.  But  Ami-am  and  his  wife,  seeing  that 
their  infant  was  "exceeding  fair,"  resolved  to  disobey  the 
cruel  orders,  and  hid  him  for  three  months.  Then  despair- 
ing of  being  able  to  keep  him  longer  concealed,  they  made 
a  little  bulrush  box  in  which  they  laid  their  babe,  and  which 
with  its  precious  freight  they  deposited  on  the  "lip,"  or 
margin,  of  the  river.  But  with  some  dim  faith  in  their 
hearts  that  somehow  deliverance  would  come,  they  sta- 
tioned Miriam,  their  little  daughter,  in  the  neighborhood 
to  watch  what  might  happen.  Nor  did  she  watch  in  vain, 
for  by-and-by  the  daughter  of  the  King  came  down  to 
bathe  in  the  river,  and  finding  the  little  box.  she  opened 
it.  and  was  at  once  moved  by  the  helpless  grief  of  the  weep- 
ing infant  to  adopt  it  as  her  own.  And  then  the  clever 
management  of  Miriam  came  into  play,  for  she  went  at 
once  to  the  Princess,  and  asked  whether  she  would  not 
need  a  nurse  for  the  child,  and  being  answered  in  the  af- 
firmative, she  ran  and  brought  her  mother.  Thus  it  came 
about  that  the  mother  was  hired  to  nurse  her  own  child, 
and  the  daughter  of  the  Egyptian  King  became  the  edu- 
cator of  him  who  was  at  length  to  emancipate  the  Hebrews 
from  the  slavery  in  which  her  father  held  them. 

It  is  a  beautiful  story,  and  never  loses  its  charm  either 
for  the  old  or  for  the  young.  But  we  must  not  tell  it  here 
simply  for  its  own  sake.  Did  it  ever  strike  you  how 
nobly  Miriam  acted  through  it  all  2  For  three  whole 
months  she  held  her  peace,  and  never  said  a  word  out- 
of-doors  about  the  "new  baby"  that  had  come  into  her 
home.  You  know  how  much  that  must  have  cost  her 
from  the  pride  and  joy  you  feel  when  a  little  brother  is 


born  into  your  family,  and  from  the  eagerness  you  have 
to  tell  everybody  you  know  about  his  loveliness.  But  in 
this  case  Miriam  knew  that  the  baby's  life  would  be  the 
forfeit  of  her  speech,  and  she  prudently  held  her  peace. 
Then  how  calmly  she  spoke  to  the  Princess  about  the 
nurse '.  Outwardly  she  might  be  all  unruffled,  but  she 
could  hear  her  heart  beat  while  she  waited  for  the  word  on 
which  her  mother's  happiness  so  much  depended.  And 
how  nimbly  she  could  run  to  fetch  her  mother  when  she 
heard  that  her  plan  had  succeeded!  No  doubt  she  had 
been  told  beforehand  what  she  should  do  in  the  event  of 
any  one  desiring  to  take  possession  of  the  baby,  but  she 
did  it  all  so  well  that  her  conduct  may  well  be  an  exam- 
ple to  children  of  all  time.  Had  she  made  common  talk 
of  all  that  happened  at  home,  Moses  never  could  have 
been  saved ;  and  had  she  gone  off  to  play  with  other  com- 
panions, and  left  her  post  of  watchfulness  beside  the  little 
bulrush  box,  she  would  have  lost  the  opportunity  of  secur- 
ing that  her  mother  should  be  engaged  as  Moses's  nurse. 
Her  dutifulness  to  her  parents  thus  secured  her  brother's 
preservation,  and  so  Miriam  stands  out  before  us,  young 
as  she  then  was,  as  a  noble  illustration  of  obedience  to 
parents. 

Then  what  an  interesting  instance  of  God's  providence 
we  have  in  this  simple  story !  Here  is  no  miracle.  The 
circumstances  are  all  such  as,  allowing  for  the  differences 
between  ancient  Eastern  and  modern  Western  life,  might 
have  happened  among  ourselves.  Yet  see  how  they  fit 
into  each  other!  If  any  one  of  them  had  been  different 
Moses  could  not  have  been  saved,  but  in  the  union  of  them 
all  he  was  preserved.  And  it  is  this  coming  together  of  so 
many  different  things  to  one  end  that  makes  us  sure  that 
God's  providence  was  in  it.  But  then  that  providence  is 
in  everything  just  as  much  and  just  as  really  as  it  was  in 
this.  You  have  been  kept  alive  through  that  providence 
as  truly  as  Moses  was.  We  often  talk  of  "providential 
escapes,"  as  if  providence  was  only  in  escapes,  but  it  is  in 
everything;  and  if  they  ought  to  be  thankful  to  God  who 
have  been  brought  out  of  danger,  much  more  ought  those 


MOSES    AMONG    THE    BULRUSHES. 


58 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


who  have  never  been  in  danger.  So  let  us  be  stirred  up 
to  earnest  gratitude  to  God  for  His  goodness  to  us  in  our 
life  and  health.  And  if  we  wish  to  know  how  to  show 
that  gratitude,  Moses's  history  will  tell  us.  The  life  that 
God  preserved  lie  devoted  to  the  good  of  His  people,  and 
we  should  do  the  same  with  our  prolonged  existence.  Let 
us  seek  to  live 

"For  the  cnuse  that  lacks  assistance, 
For  the  wrong  which  needs  resistance, 
For  the  good  that  we  can  do," 

and  that  will  be  a  noble  thank-offering  to  Him  who  has 
given  us  all  our  blessings,  and  crowned  us  with  His  favor 
as  truly  as  He  kept  watch  over  Moses  in  the  little  bulrush 
box  on  the  bank  of  the  Nile. 


ABOUT  CLUBS. 

BY  SHERWOOD   EYSE. 

MOST  of  the  clubs  with  which  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
are  likely  to  be  concerned  come  under  one  of  the  three 
following  divisions:  Game  and  athletic  clubs;  literary  or 
musical  clubs,  including  debating,  reading,  essay,  sing- 
ing, and  dramatic  clubs;  mixed  literary  and  social  clubs. 

Athletic  clubs  are  organized  in  the  same  manner  as  other 
clubs,  but  as  they  are  governed  principally  by  the  rules  of 
the  game  to  which  they  are  devoted,  we  will  pass  over 
them  for  the  present. 

Literary  clubs  are  a  very  pleasant  means  of  spending 
spare  evenings,  and  at  the  same  time  of  becoming  well  ac- 
quainted with  delightful  authors,  and  of  exercising  one's 
talent  for  reading  aloud,  debating,  and  writing  essays. 
Perhaps  debating  is  the  most  popular  of  these  exercises, 
and  in  this  country,  where  every  gentleman  is  expected  to 
be  able  to  "  make  a  speech"  when  called  upon,  it  is  a  very 
desirable  part  of  one's  education. 

To  choose  subjects  for  debate  is  not  at  all  easy.  Sub- 
jects that  require  more  information  than  the  members  can 
be  expected  to  obtain  should  be  avoided,  for  no  debate  can 
be  kept  up  with  spirit  unless  the  members  are.  well  "post- 
ed'1 on  the  subject.  Again,  only  those  subjects  which 
admit  of  a  real  difference  of  opinion  should  be  chosen. 
The  writer  once  proposed  the  question  "that  Tom 
Brown's  School-Days  is  the  best  book  011  English  school 
life  that  has  been  written."  It  was  a  question  with  which 
we  were  all  more  or  less  familiar,  but  we  had  a  very  dull 
debate,  because  we  were  all  agreed  from  the  first  that  it 
ivas  the  best. 

An  essay  club,  where  the  members  meet,  say,  every  fort- 
night, and  read  essays  written  on  subjects  proposed  at  the 
last  meeting,  is  very  pleasant,  and  leads  one  to  take  an  in- 
terest in  matters  that  would  not  otherwise  be  attended  to. 
After  the  essays  have  been  read  a  discussion  on  the  opin- 
ions of  the  writers  may  be  held. 

Reading  clubs  generally  choose  some  book  to  read  aloud, 
say,  one  of  Dickens's  or  Scott's  novels,  or  one  of  Scott's 
poems,  or  even  one  of  Shakspeare's  plays.  The  charac- 
ters should  be  arranged  at  the  meeting  before  the  play  is 
to  be  read,  so  that  each  may  read  his  part  over  before- 
hand. It  is  well  to  ask  the  advice  of  some  older  person 
before  deciding  upon  a  play  or  a  book,  and  when  Shaks- 
peare  is  chosen,  an  edition  with  notes,  such  as  Rolfes 
Plays  of  Shakspeare,  is  best.  It  is  not  necessary  to  finish 
a  book  in  one  evening,  but  one  book  or  one  poem  or  play 
should  be  finished  before  another  is  begun. 

And  now  for  the  third  kind  of  club,  which  is  perhaps 
the  most  enjoyable  of  all.  Suppose  it  meets  once  a  week. 
One  evening  we  may  begin  a  play  of  Shakspeare  ;  on  an- 
other we  may  debate ;  on  a  third  we  may  read  or  recite  se- 
lected pieces  of  poetry,  or  a  chapter  from  one  of  Scott's 
novels,  or  the  experiences  of  Mr.  Pickwick  at  Dinglev 
Dell  Farm,  or  a  chapter  from  Little  Women  or  Alice  in 


Wonder-Land.  Several  members  are  appointed  to  read  or 
recite,  while  the  others  play  audience.  Then  on  another 
night  there  may  be  acting  charades,  and  in  the  Christmas 
holidays  perhaps  a  set  piece,  with  a  specially  invited  au- 
dience. 

Besides  these  and  similar  entertainments  there  may  come 
a  day  when  Mr.  Barnum  brings  his  big  show  to  town; 
then  the  club  may  hold  its  meeting  under  the  circus  tent. 
And  in  the  fall,  when  the  ground  is  dry,  and  the  weather 
bright  and  cool,  the  club  may  arrange  an  extra  day-meet- 
ing on  Saturday  morning,  and  take  part  in  a  "bare-and- 
hounds'7  chase;  or,  in  winter,  the  president,  after  having 
obtained  a  vote  of  the  club,  may  call  a  special  day  reunion 
for  "  next  Saturday,  at  nine  o'clock,  on  Jones's  Pond,  if  the 
ice  bears." 

It  is  always  difficult  to  find  a  good  name  for  a  club. 
For  athletic  clubs  in  small  towns  the  name  of  the  town 
may  be  sufficient,  as  the  Montrose  Base-ball  Club;  or  the 
name  of  some  part  of  a  city,  as  the  Chestnut  Hill  Athletic 
Club.  In  far  Western  towns  the  Pioneer  is  a  good  name, 
especially  if  the  club  is  the  first  of  its  kind  in  the  place. 
Literary  clubs  may  call  themselves  after  some  great  ora- 
tor, or  statesman,  or  author  of  world-wide  fame :  for  exam- 
ple, Webster,  Garfield,  Hawthorne,  Washington  Irving, 
Dickens,  Abbotsford  (home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott),  Waver- 
ley,  Avon  (a  river  running  by  the  birth-place  of  Shaks- 
peure),  etc.  The.  name  of  Washington  is  naturally  so 
commonly  used  that.it  would  better  be 'avoided. 

In  the  case  of  clubs  of  the  third  kind,  all  sorts  of  names 
may  be  used,  and  they  need  not  have  anything  par- 
ticular to  do  with  the  objects  of  the  club.  Such  names 
as-  the  Etceteras,  the  Whip-poor-Wills,  the  Katydids,  the 
Owls,  and  many  others  equally  or  more  fanciful,  may  be 
adopted.  If  the  club  meets  on  Friday  evening  (which  is 
a  good  time),  it  may  be  called  the  Man  Friday  Club, 
thereby  associating  it  with  every  boy's  friend,  Robinson 
Crusoe,  and  every  member  will  be  known  among  his  club 
companions  as  a  "Man  Friday." 

As  the  laws  governing  almost  every  kind  of  club  are 
about  the  same,  we  give  below  a  form  of  constitution  that 
may  be  made  to  fit  most  kinds  of  clubs  in  which  our  read- 
ers are  likely  to  be  engaged.  Following  that  we  give 
"by-laws,"  which  may  be  changed  to  suit  the  particular 
society,  either  for  games  or  for  literary  exercises. 

Always  remember  that  the  life  and  interest  of  a  club 
depend  on  the  good  feeling  and  give-and-take  spirit  of 
the  members.  When,  therefore,  you  elect  a  president, 
choose  that  one  of  your  number  who,  by  reason  of  his 
age  and  popularity,  is  likely  to  have  most  influence  over 
the  members;  he  will  thus  be  able  to  preserve  order 
among  the  members  without  causing  any  jealousy  or  ill 
feeling. 

The  secretary's  duty  will  be  to  keep  the  "records"  of 
the  club,  and  he  should  be  provided  with  a  neat  blank- 
book  for  that  purpose.  At  the  beginning  of  it  he  should 
write  the  names  of  the  officers  and  members,  and  the  Con- 
stitution and  By-laws.  Of  course  he  should  be  a  good 
penman. 

The  treasurer  keeps  the  money  of  the  club,  but  it  is  bet- 
ter that  the  club  should  have  no  money  in  its  treasury, 
and  when  any  is  needed,  each  member  should  be  assessed 
a  sufficient  sum  to  make  up  what  is  required. 

CONSTITUTION  OF  THE  ETCETERA  CLUB. 

I.  This  society  shall  be  known  as  ihe  Etcetera  Club,  and  its  object 
shall  be  to  read  and  discuss  such  matters  as  shall  be  agreed  upon,  and 
otherwise  to  promote  the  reasonable  social  enjoyment  of  its  members 
one  with  another. 

II.  The  Club  shall  consist   of  fifteen   members.     When   a  vacancy 
occurs,  a  new  member  shall  be  elected  by  ballot,  and  three  votes  shall 
exclude.     Candidates  for  membership  shall  be  proposed  and  seconded 
at  one  meeting  and  balloted  for  at  the  next. 

III.  ( 1.)  The  officers  shall  be  a  President,  a  Secretary,  and  a  Treasurer, 
who  shall  be  elected  for  one  year  by  a  majority  of  all  the  members  of 
the  Club. 


NoYF.MKKU  -.N,  1882. 


HAMPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


CJ  i  Tii"  President  shall  pre-ide  at  m<.etiic_'s,  and  execute  tli"  de- 
cision-  ill   ill''  I  'lull.        Ill    till'  ca-e  nt    :l    tie  Vote  he   shall  have 

:m  extra  casthig-vote. 

(:;.  i  "I'ln-  Secretan  shall  keep  tin.-  records  (if  meetings  of  tin-  Club 
in  a  hook  pi  o\  ided  iDi- 1 1  nit  purpose,  and  .-hall  d<>  such  oih"i- 
writing  as  th"  bii-ine-s  ill  III"  I 'iuli  may  r"i|iiire. 
(4.)  Tli"  Treasurer  shall  attend  m  Ilir  money  matters  of  the  Club, 
and  shall  preside  at  meetings  in  the-  ah-cmv  nt  tli"  1'ic-i 
dent. 

IV  I  1.)  Meetings  shall  he  hrld  once  a  «  eeU  at  th"  residences  nf  the 
member-,  in  order.  It  il  sliniild  not  he  convenient  for  any  member  to 
receive  ih"  I 'liih  at  his  residence  in  his  tiii-n,  he  may,  wiih  the  oolisciit 

<il  the  <'hih,  cM-hang"  turns  uilh  sun tliei-  nieillher. 

CJ.)  Kxtia  meeting-  may  he  called  hy  ill"  1'ioident.  with  the  con- 
sent nf  tiie  I  'luh,  fui-  any  time  and  place  that  may  I greed 

upoi). 

(3.)  Abseil""  lY'im  i titiL's  without  good  cause  shall  lie  punished 

liv  an  exira  assessment  not  exceeding  ten  cents,  to  he  e"l- 
Iccted  when  next  an  assessment  shall  be  m.i'ie  lor  the  ex- 
penses ot  the  rind,  as  provided  for  in  Article  V. 

V.  The    pxpen-es    nf    the  Chili  shall    he  d"tra\ed    hy   an    c.|inl 

mont  levied  on  each  nn-mii"!-  as  occa-ion  shall  ari-o.  An  a--cssnient 
must  he  voted  hv  two  third:-  of  all  the  tncnihers  of  the  Club,  and  shall 

III!     I,.-    due    mill!    0116    Heck    ttfter   it    ha-    heel!    \otcd. 

VI.  Anv  niemher  uho  shall  have  been  absent  from  three  eon-. 
regular  meetings  without  good  eau-e,  or  who  shall  disobc\   the  rilling  of 
jic  pre-idiie_r  "lli<-"r  alt"i-  due  warnini:  ^iveii,  or  who  shall  he  guilty  of 
unbecoming  conduct,  may  h"  expelled  Irom  the  Chili  \>\  a  \ote  of  two- 
thirds  of  all  t  h"  ni"iiih"i  -  ot   i  h"  ( 'luh. 

VII.  Eleven  member-  shall  form  a  quorum  sullieient  to  nan-act  Im-i 
Ilrs-.  and.   except    Where    otherwi-e    provideil.   a    majority  of   the    \ot.-s   of 
tho-e  pie-enl  shall  I nsidered  as  giving  "  t  In-  "I   tin' Cluh." 

VIII.  This  Con-timiion  mav  he  amended  hy  a  two  thirds  vote  of  all 
;he  memhers  of  the  t'hih,  noli""   ot    |no|jn-"ii   amendment  having   heen 
;ivm  at  the  meeting  prc ling  thai  at  whi.-h  the  vote  i-  taken. 

IX.  All  doubtful  questions  of  cluh  law  shall  he  retened  to  the  Editor 

if  IlAKi'i.n'.s  VIM  M;  PEOPLE. 

BY-LAWS. 

1.  I'ntil  otherwi-e  agreed,  the  re-ular  meetings  of  the  Club  shall  bo 
tield  every  Kiidav  evening,  Irom  seven  until  nine  o'clock. 

'2.    Before     priicceilillg    to    the    e\elei-"-  id     the    evening,    the    SeeretaM 

shall  read  the  minutes  of  tin;  last  meeting,  and  the  hu  si  ness  of  t  h    ' 
shall  he  transacted. 

M.  The  cxei-ci-es  fur  the  next  meeting,  and  the  subjects,  shall  be  de- 
cided upon  before  the  Cluh  ad.jouins. 

4.  No  member  shall  recil -  read  for  more  than  ten   minutes  in  one 

evening;  and  no  niemher  shall  speak  in  a  debate  for  more  than  t'-n 
minutes,  nor  speak  more  than  once,  except  the  mover  of  the  qiie-tion, 
who  shall  be  allowed  Ih"  minutes  for  a  rcplv  bdiire  a  vole  i-  taken. 
The  Club  may  vote  to  adjourn  a  debate  to  the  next  meeting. 

fi.  The  member  al  whose  icsidenee  a  meeting  is  held  shall  provide  a 
pitcher  of  ice-water  and  a  glass  for  the  use  of  members. 


GRANDPAPA'S  TOWZER. 

AS  TOLD  BY  DICK. 

TF  you  want  me  to  tell  you,  I  will  ;  hut  I  ain't  used  to 
telling  things  if  they're  long,  ami  likely  as  not  I'll  get 
it  all  mixed  up,  and  the  wrong  end  first,  (.'liarley  cmilil 
tell  it  beautiful,  1  suppose.  He's  the  smart  one  of  our 
family,  and  can  do  just  alioiit  everything  lie  sets  out  to. 
All  the  same,  it's  always  him  that's  getting  us  into  scrapes. 
Smart  folks  are  that  way.  They  get  people  into  things; 
people  would  never  think  of  themselves,  and  then  some- 
how they  turn  up  all  right,  and  it's  us  that  catches  it. 
This  whole  business  was  his  doing;  none  of  the  rest  of  us 
would  ever  have  thought  of  such  a  thing. 

When  the  invitation  came  Charley  instantly  began  to 
talk  about  Towzer.  He  said  he  wasn't  going  to  have 
Towzer  left  at  home  whining  about  and  breaking  his  heart 
all  alone  for  any  stupid  dinner  at  Grandpa's;  not  he — the 
dog  should  go.  The  idea  was  so  perfectly  absurd  that 
•when  Betty  said,  "Nonsense;  hold  your  tongue!'1  none  of 
us  thought  a  word  more  about  it. 

Grandpa  is  a  very  rich  man — "most  dreadfully  horri- 
bly rich,"  Jack  puts  it.  He  lives  in  the  city,  and  lias  an 
immense  house,  nearly  as  big  as  our  barn ;  the  furniture 
is  something  wonderful,  and  there  are  horses  and  carriages 
and  everything. 

Just  what  relation  we  are  to  Grandpa  it  would  be  awful 
hard  to  make  out.  Poor  mamma,  who  died  when  we  were 


little  tots,  was  only  his  adopted  daughter,  and  somehow 
we  don't  think  he  eared  for  her  much;  but  Betty  says  she 
"knows  what's  what, "and  as  long  as  he'll  have  us  young 

ones  there  mice  iii  a  while  lo  dii r  ami  let   us  call  him 

"(irandpa."  we've  got  to  go.  Betty  talks  about  our 
"chances";  but  when  we  wanted  to  lake  a  chance  in  a 
grab  hag  at  a  fair  she  said  it  was  wicked. 

It  was  just  a  week  ago  that  we  were  packed  in  the  wag- 
on ready  to  start.  Charley  says  our  wagon  cam  >  out  of 
the  Ark;  but  it  isn't  true.  A  great  many  things  may  he 
very  old.  hut  when  you  come  to  talk  about  the  Ark,  it's 
nonsense.  It  looks  likely,  too.  that  Noah  would  have 
taken  such  a  wagon  as  that  aboard  when  he  was  rich 
enough  to  have  all  those  animals!  I  like  reason  in  things, 
and  there's  no  reason  in  that. 

i  bu-  machine  looks  so  funny  in  Grandpa's  big  coach- 
house! 1  can  always  hear  James  giggle  when  we  drive 
up.  But  this  time  I  think  we  looked  a  little  better  than. 
usual,  for  Charley  had  on  his  new  overcoat;  Jack  and  I, 
being  twins,  have  got  so  used  to  being  mixed  up  that  we 
don't  pretend  to  have  anything  separate.  People  never 
know  us  apart,  and  when  he's  naughty  Betty  generally 
whips  me.  1  suppose  1  wore  his  clothes,  but  we  both  look- 
ed nice.  Bob's  so  little  he  don't  count,  but  the  new  collar 
Betty  did  up  for  him  nearly  cut  his  ears  off. 

( 'liarley  always  drives.  He's  twelve,  and.  after  all,  Dob- 
bin  couldn't  run  away  any  more'n  a  cow.  Besides,  it's 
only  ten  miles  to  Grandpa's,  We're  just  outside  the  city, 
where  rents  are  cheap. 

\\  c  hadn't  gone  t  wo  miles  thatday  before  Charley  gave  a 
whistle,  and  there  was  Towzer  right  alongside  the  wagon. 

"  You  darsn't  !"  said  I. 

"  Darsn't    I  :"  said  Charley.      "He'll  stay  in  the  coach 
house,  anil    I'll   run  out  now  and  then  and  speak  to  him. 
\Ve  ain't  had  him  a  month,  and  I  couldn't  leave  him  be- 
hind." 

My  hair  just  stood  on  end.  I  don't  believe  there's  any- 
thing Charley  darsn't  do.  It's  just  as  I  said  before.  He 
knows  three  times  as  much  as  the  rest  of  us.  and  he  just 
imposes  on  it  to  do  as  he  likes.  But  then  the  idea  of  taking 
Tou/.er  lo  ( irandpa's!  I  knew  trouble  would  come  of  it, 
and  I  knew  too  that  if  it  did,  Charley 'd  get  out  all  right  ; 
anil  if  there  were  an  v  consequences,  we'd  he  the  ones  to 
take 'em.  You  just  ought  to  have  seen  the  trouble  we  had 
to  get  out  of  that  coach-house  without  Towzer  following 
us.  Charley  got  us  all  out,  and  then  he  shut  the  door 
quick,  and  ran.  Towzer  howled  frightfully,  and  we  heard 
him  all  the  way  into  the  house. 

Dinner  at  (irandpa's  is  always  a  very  sole*nn  affair. 
There's  lots  and  lots  of  everything,  one  kind  after  anoth- 
er; but  the  trouble  is  that  if  we  take  some  of  each,  and 
Hetty  says  it's  good  manners,  we  haven't  any  room  left  for 
the  ice-cream  and  cake,  and  all  those  sorts  of  things  which 
we  like  best.  Another  trouble  is  Grandpa.  He  sits  up  so 
still'  and  stately,  and  his  eye  is  just  awful;  not  that  he 
scolds,  but  he  looks  so  severe,  us  if  he  were  just  going  to. 
Hob  sits  in  his  high  chair  and  scarcely  dares  swallow  a 
mouthful,  and  the  next  day  at  home  he  cries  about  the  good 
things  because  he  hasn't  got  'em. 

Now  the  most  wonderful  thing  about  Grandpa's  table 
is  the  dishes.  They  are  just  perfectly  beautiful — glasses 
that  you're  afraid  your  breath  will  blow  away,  and  plates 
and  cups  of  all  kinds  just  filled  with  painted  flowers  and 
all  manner  of  shapes.  David,  who  waits  on  the  table, 
says  they  have  names  like  "severs"  and  "clothes  011  you" 
and  "jolliky." 

Well,  we  were  just  getting  to  the  ice-cream.  Grandpa- 
had  been  very  kind,  and  Bob  was  so  little  scared  that  his 
plate  was  half  empty,  when  suddenly  we  heard  a  great, 
scratching;  then  a  floundering,  skurrying  noise.  Charley 
turned  deathly  pale. 

I  couldn't  think  what  was  going  to  happen,  and  every- 
body else  looked  perfectly  astonished.  All  of  a  sudden. 


60 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"IT    WAS    A    MOST    TERRIBLE    SIGHT." 

the  door  flew  open  with  a  bang1,  and  with  one  tremendous 
spring-  in  jumped  Towzer.  Mrs.  Davis,  who  keeps  house 
for  Grandpa,  and  sits  at  the  head  of  the  table,  screamed 
the  most  awful  scream  I  ever  heard. 

At  first  Towzer  didn't  see  Charley.  Then  he  caught 
sight  of  him.  An  awful  jump  under  Grandpa's  elbow 
threw  the  wine  all  over  his  shirt  bosom.  Then  there  was 
a  wriggle,  and  Towzer's  big  tail  knocked  pieces  and  pieces 
of  "  clothes  on  you"  and  "  jolliky"  into  one  mass  of  bits; 
the  ice-cream  pyramid  went  down,  and  oranges  and  grapes 
flew  round  like  big  hail-stones. 

It  was  the  most  awful  moment  I  ever  knew. 

Charley  gave  one  look.  I  thought  he  was  going  to 
faint.  Then  he  gave  a  horrid  groan,  and  in  a  minute  he 
was  gone.  Jack  flew  after  him.  I  thought  it  was  mean 
to  leave  Bob,  so  I  grabbed  him  by  the  waist,  and  down- 
stairs we  went. 

Charley  made  for  the  coach-house,  and  Jack  and  I  aft- 


er him,  Bob  screaming-  until  I  thought  he  would  go  into 
fits.  There  was  a  big-  empty  stall  in  the  stable,  and  in  we 
all  went,  and  covered  ourselves  up  with  straw. 

"Dick,"  said  Charley,  "if  they  don't  lock  up,  we'll 
crawl  out  after  dark  and  go  home." 

This  was  all  very  well,  but  Bob's  awful  screams  were 
enough  to  tell  the  whole  neighborhood  where  we  were. 

Presently  out  came  James,  and  Mrs.  Davis  with  him. 

Now  we  had  always  been  afraid  of  Mrs.  Davis,  she  was 
so  big  and  dignified;  but  when  she  saw  us  all  cuddled  up 
in  a  heap  under  the  straw  she  laughed  so  hard,  and  James 
laughed,  and  finally  Bob  stopped  screaming,  and  laughed 
too.  so  that  Charley  and  I  began  to  feel  a  mite  cheerful. 

' '  What  '11  he  do  to  us  ?"  asked  Jack. 

Then  Mrs.  Davis  scolded  him  a  little,  and  finally  she  or- 
dered us  back  into  the  dining-room,  and  told  us  she  was 
going-  to  tell  us  a  story  about  Grandpa.  He  was  gone,  of 
course.  No  mortal  power  could  have  got  us  back  into  that 
room  if  Grandpa  had  been  there. 

"  Ever  and  ever  so  many  years  ago — 

"Hundreds  and  hundreds?"  asked  Jack.  He  always 
will  interrupt  a  story. 

"No,  but  a  good  many.  When  Grandpa  was  a  young 
man  he  was  very  poor,  but  he  had  a  wife  and  a  little  boy 
that  he  loved  very  much.  They  were  so  poor  that  instead 
of  a  great  big  house  they  could  only  have  part  of  one. 
Grandpa  went  to  work  every  day,  and  his  wife  went  out 
to  buy  things,  and  there  was  110  one  to  leave  the  little  boy 
with  but  a  big  dog  named  Towzer. 

"Oh  !"  groaned  Charley.     He  was  still  awful  pale. 

"One  day  Grandpa  came  home  from  his  work,  and  what 
do  you  think  he  saw?  It  was  a  most  terrible  sight.  From 
the  high  upper  window  of  the  room  where  he  lived  his  lit- 
tle boy  was  hanging — just  hanging  there  apparently  by  a 
bit  of  his  frock,  but  no  one  could  tell  what  held  it. 

"What  did?" 

"Grandpa  had  seen  the  boy  before  any  of  the  neigh- 
bors, but  he  was  so  frightened  and  overcome  that  they 
rushed  up  first,  and  there  they  found— 

' '  What  ?"  screamed  Jack. 

"Towzer  grasping  the  little  boy's  skirt  in  his  mouth, 
and  both  paws  braced  against  the  window-sill.  The  poor 
dog  was  not  strong  enough  to  pull  him  in,  but  he  held  the 
child  fast  till  help  came." 

' '  Was  he  all  right,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  indeed;  no  one  knew  how  long  they  had  been 
there.  But  the  good  dog  had  saved  the  little  boy's  life." 

"  Where  are  they  all  now  ;"  asked  Jack. 

"Grandpa  is  here;  the  rest  are  all  gone." 

Mrs.  Davis  looked  so  sad  that  we  knew  they  were  dead. 

"Is  Towzer  dead  too?"  asked  Jack.  "Where  did  he 
die  2" 

"We  do  not  know,  Jack.  Grandpa  had  to  move  away, 
and  the  owner  of  the  new  house  he  went  to  would  not  let 
him  keep  a  dog,  so  Towzer  was  given  away  to  a  kind  man, 
and  when  Grandpa  got  a  house  of  his  own  the  good  dog 
had  died.  Not  long  after  his  wife  and  little  boy  left  him 
too,  and  now  he  is  all  alone." 

Nobody  said  anything  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
Charley  spoke. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Grandpa,  and  tell  him  I  know  about 
his  Towzer;  and  I'm  awful,  awful  sorry  our  Towzer  broke 
his  dishes,  and  we'll  never  come  here  again  to  bother  him." 

Charley  is  a  mean  kind  of  boy.  When  he  came  back 
he  gave  us  some  big  bright  dollars  he  said  Grandpa  had 
sent  us,  but  besides  that  Jack  and  I  could  hardly  get  a 
word  out  of  him.  All  the  way  home  he  was  as  mute  as  a 
mouse.  When  we  got  mad  and  asked  him  how  he  liked 
taking  Towzer  to  Grandpa's,  he  said, 

"Fellers,  I  want  you  to  understand  that  a  gentleman's 
house  in  the  city  is  no  place  for  a  great  Newfoundland 
dog." 

Nice  way  for  him  to  talk,  wasn't  it! 


NOVEMBER  28,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


61 


THE    MILKMAID. 


Shall  I  marry  you,  my  pretty  maid  ? 
Oh.  thank  you  kindly,  sir,  she  said. 


WHERE  are  you  going,  my  pretty  maid  ; 
I'm  going  u-milking,  sir,  she  said. 


4 


Shall  I  go  with  you,  my  pretty  maid  '. 
Oh  yes,  if  you  please,  kind  sir,  she  said. 


But  what  is  your  fortune,  my  pretty  maid  ? 
My  face  is  my  fortune,  sir,  she  said. 


What  is  your  father,  my  pretty  maid  ? 
My  father's  a  farmer,  sir,  she  said. 


Then  I  can't  marry  you,  my  pretty  maid. 
Nobody  asked  you,  sir,  she  said,  sir,  she  said. 


IIAUPEirS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"ALL  READY  FOR  WINTER." 

OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

HPHANKSOIVIXG-DAY!  What  a  pleasant 
JL  sound  the  words  have,  and  what  pleasant 
memories  they  recall  in  our  minds  !  I  hope  the 
dear  boys  and  girls  will  each  try  to  make  the 
day  a  happy  one  to  somebody  else.  If  we  keep 
Thanksgiving  selfishly,  we  shall  not  get  its  true 
sweetness  into  our  hearts. 

The  Postmistress  has  written  a  little  hymn  for 
the  children  to  sins;,  and  she  hopes  they  will  all 
learn  it.  and  try  it  by  some  pretty  tune  : 

Children,  sing  to  Him  whose  love 
Broods  your  happy  lives  above; 
Raise  your  tuneful  voices  high 
To  our  Father  in  the  sky— 

For  the  flowers  and  for  the  wheat, 
For  the  cold  and  for  the  heat. 
For  the  fruit  and  for  the  grain, 
For  the  sunshine  and  the  rain. 

Children,  sing  to  Him  whose  care 
Makes  the  land  so  rich  and  fair; 
Raise  your  tuneful  voices  high 
To  our  Father  in  the  sky— 

For  the  mother's  look  of  grace. 
For  the  baby's  little  face, 
For  the  morning's  smile  of  bliss, 
For  the  happy  good-night  kiss. 

Children,  sing  to  Him  whose  hand 
Rules  and  guards  our  native  land  ; 
Lift  your  joyous  voices  high 
To  our  Father  in  the  sky — 

For  the  cheery  bells  that  swing, 
And  for  freedom  peal  and  ring, 
For  our  nation's  peace  and  wealth. 
For  our  gladness  and  our  health. 

Children,  sing  to  One  whose  love 
Broods  your  merry  days  above  ; 
Lift  your  tuneful  voices  high 
To  our  Father  in  the  sky. 

I  shall  certainly  expect  some  letters  next  week 
telling  me  how  you  have  spent  Thanksgiving, 
and  all  about  the  frolic  and  the  fun. 


WAVERLEY,  NEW  JERSEY. 

Most  girls  who  write  to  you,  dear  Postmistress, 
seem  to  have  a  very  good  time.  They  tell  about, 
their  dolls,  and  their  pets,  and  their  darling  lit- 
tle baby  brothers,  and  some  of  them  take  paint- 


ing lessons,  and  some  are  learning  music.  I  do 
not  envy  these  girls,  but  sometimes  I  wish  that 
the  good  times  might  be  divided  up,  so  that  I 
might  get  a  share  of  them. 

For  one  thing.  I  am  not  a  little  girl  I  am  six- 
teen. I  have  a  great  many  troubles,  and  1  feel 
quite  irrown  tip.  Aunt  Alice  says  1  feel  more 
grown  up  now  than  I  will  when  I  am  thirty.  She- 
says  she  knows  by  herself.  I  am  sure  I  shall  nev- 
er be  as  peaceful  and  sweet  as  Aunt  Alice  if  I 
live  to  be  a  hundred.  I  was  a  happy  girl  as  long 
as  I  could  go  to  school.  But  thougli  I  hardly 
know  anything,  the  doctor  has  persuaded  mam- 
ma that  it  will  be  better  for  my  health  to  let  me 
stay  at  home  for  a  year  or  two,  and  take  exer- 
cise. 

.Mamma  says  all  young  girls  should  learn  how- 
to  do  housework,  so  though  1  hate  lo  cook  and 
such  things,  I  have  to  learn  how.  That  is  niy 
great  trial.  Then  we  have  a  very  large  family. 
and  so  many  dishes  !  and  as  we  do  not  keep  a 
servant,  everybody  says,  "Let  Rosalie  wash  the 
dishes."  And  oil !  Postmistress,  you  never  would 
believe  how  I  hate  to  wash  dishes.  I  often  feel 
like  breaking  them,  and  would,  only  it  would  do 
no  good. 

li' i  you  think  it  wrong  to  like  to  have  soft 
white  hands!  Would  you  like  yours  to  be  coarse 
and  red  ? 

I  hope  I  am  not  making  you  think  that  I  am  a 
very  silly  girl,  but  another  trial  1  have  is  wearing 
an  apron.  I  do  not  like  aprons,  but  I  can  not 
help  myself,  as  all  the  ladies  and  girls  around 
here  have  to  wear  them,  and  if  you  don't  do  so 
too,  you  are  thought  very  careless. 

Please  answer  this,  and  do  say  you  are  sorry 
for  me.  ROSALIE  P. 

Yes,  Rosalie,  I  agree  with  you  that  it  would  be 
a  pity  to  have  coarse  red  hands  if  one  could  help 
it.  and  I  own  that  I  like  mine  to  be  white  and 
soft.  But.  my  dear,  I  do  not  think  with  you  that 
it  i~  a  misfortune  to  have  to  stay  at  home  awhile 
and  learn  to  keep  house.  I  have  had  an  idea  of 
getting  up  a  Young  Housekeeper's  Sociable  of 
my  own  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  give  notice  now 
thai  all  the  girls  who  wish  to  join  it  may  send 
me  their  names.  I  can  ii"t  tell  you  all  my  plans 
here,  but  if  you  and  the  other  girls  like  the  idea, 

we  will  all  try  together  to  hi me  nice,  dainty. 

and  successful  housekeepers.  From  time  to  time, 
if  you  gather  around  me  while  the  boys  are  out- 
doors playing  their  noisier  games,  we  will  have 
little  talks  about  sweeping,  dusting,  managing 
servants,  cooking,  and  doing  the  work  ourselves, 
and  other  things.  Hood  housekeeping  is  happy 
home-making.  Never  forget  that. 

About  washing  dishes,  now.  I  always  take  my 
glass  and  silver  first.  I  have  a  basin  with  two 
divisions.  I  wash  my  pretty  things  in  one  side 
of  the  basin,  and  rinse  them  in  the  other.  Then 
I  keep  soft  fine  towels  on  purpose  for  these  finer 
dishes,  never  using  them  for  the  others.  We  will 
have  a  longer  talk  about  washing  dishes  some 
day.  for  though  many  girls  dislike  it.it  is  a  lady's 
work  after  all.  If  my  little  Virginia  and  Ken- 
tucky girls  would  speak,  I  am  sure  they  would 
say  that  they  enjoy  washing  the  breakfast  and 
tea  things,  and  would  not  trust  any  clumsy  hands 
to  perform  this  task.  Why  not  get  your  brother 
to  make  you  a  mop,  so  that  you  need  not  put 
your  hands  into  the  hot  water  when  busy  with 

the  dishes  :• 

As  for  never  growing  to  be  like  Aunt  Alice — 
well, de.u.  perhaps  she  would  tell  me  something 
else  if  I  could  have  a  chat,  with  her.  We  grow 
sweet  and  patient,  in  it  all  at  once,  but  day  by  day. 

The  apron  difficulty  must  wait  until  another 
time.  If  I  should  tell  you  about  some  pretty 
aprons  that  I  have  seen,  and  give  you  an  idea 
how  to  make  them,  don't  you  think  you  might 
overcome  your  dislike  to  the  useful  articles?  If 
you  wear  the  hideous  gingham  things  I  have 
seen  on  some  people,  I  don't  wonder  at  your 
feeling  as  you  do.  And  now  good-morning,  Ro- 
salie, for  the  rest  are  waiting. 


SIERRA  COUNTY,  CALIFORNIA. 

We  had  a  delightful  time  at  the  Mountain  House 
last  summer.  We  had  five  saddle  horses,  on  which 
we  went  out  riding  nearly  every  afternoon.  We 
had  a  pet  deer  with  a  bell  on,  but  it  ran  away 
when  it  was  about  four  months  old.  It  was  a 
great  friend  of  one  of  the  dogs,  and  they  would 
play  together  every  morning.  We  had  a  great 
many  chickens,  and  would  sometimes  get  twen- 
ty-five or  twenty-flight  eggs  a  day.  There  was  a 
large  dairy,  at  which  we  could  get  all  the  nice 
thick  cream  we  wanted.  Although  our  home  is 
in  the  mountains,  we  have  an  ice-house,  which  is 
packed  hard  with  saw-dust  around  it.  Some- 
times grandma  makes  ice-cream  for  us. 

Last  week  we  went  to  grandpa's  saw-mill :  it 
is  five  miles  from  here,  and  is  in  a  beautiful  spot, 
with  stately-looking  trees,  liy  the  mill  a  creek 
runs.  We  had  much  fun  cleaning  out  the  saw- 
dust in  the  mill  for  the  men.  We  took  our  lunch- 


eon with  us,  and  ate  it  by  a  spring  where  there 
are  beautiful  ferns,  m^iden's-hair,  and  moss.  As 
we  go  to  the  saw-mill  there  is  a  little  stream  that 
winds  itself  first  on  one  side  of  the  road  and  then 
on  the  other.  \Ve  ride  tor  three  miles  through  a 
forest  of  tall  pine-trees,  viz.,  spruce,  oak,  cedar, 
and  yew.  besides  hazel-nut  bushels.  I  know  the 
dear  Postmistress  would  like  to  be  in  a  place  like 
this.  C.K.T.,1.  E.G.,  and  M.E.I!. 

This  bright  letter  has  had  to  wait  so  long  for 
its  turn  that  by  this  time  the  writers  are  no  doubt 
deep  in  arithmetic  and  history,  with  very  little 
time  for  picnics.  The  Postmistress  hopes  they 
will  write  again  soon. 


ANTWERP,  BELGIUM. 

I  have  your  paper  sent  to  me  here  in  Antwerp, 
and  I  think  it  is  very  nice  indeed.  I  want  to  write 
to  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  think  there  is 
nothing  nicer  to  tell  your  readers  about  than  the 
Zoo  in  Antwerp.  I  have  heard  it  is  the  best  in 
the  world,  but  I  am  an  American,  and  have  not 
been  here  long,  and  expect  to  stay  two  years 
longer,  and  1  think  I  can  tell  in  that  time.  Wher- 
ever we  go— say,  to  Paris,  or  London,  or  any  of 
those  places — I  expect  to  visit  the  Zoo,  and  then 
I  can  tell  which  I  think  is  the  best.  If  this  is  the 
best  Zoo.  I  don't  think  they  have  very  many  po- 
lite animals.  Some  of  them  are  lovely,  the  birds 
especially  ;  but  I  had  seen  the  deer.s  before  that, 
anil  I  came  up  to  an  animal  which  1  thought  was 
a  deer,  and  gave  it  a  piece  of  cracker,  and  the 
way  it  said  "  Thank  >  on"  was  that  it  spit  right  in 
my  face.  I  think  it  was  a  llama.  When  1  went 
to  the  gardens  with  my  little  friends,  we  took  a 
ride  on  the  elephant,  and  it  seemed  as  if  you  were 
riding  in  the  air.  hut  you  get  too  many  bumps. 

I  rather  fancy  the  ponies  and  goats  more  than 
the  elephant.  They  have  a  camel  too  which  they 
ride,  but  I  have  not  tried  it  yet,  and  do  not  ex- 
pect to,  because  it  has  a  very  rough  gait  ;  it  seems 
as  if  you  were  riding  between  two  mountains.  I 
have  beanl  that  a  crow  will  live  one  hundred 
years,  ami  1  think  I  will  buy  one  and  try.  The 
last  time  I  was  at  the  Zoo  I  took  my  little  basket 
full  of  crackers  and  nice  things  for  the  monkeys. 
You  ought  to  see  them  fight  for  a  piece  of  crack- 
er. If  one  don't  get  a  piece,  he  will  nearly  knock 
it  out  of  the  other's  mouth.  And  they  have  even 
little  nails  on  their  fingers,  such  as  we  have,  and 
their  \\hole  bands  arc  \ery  much  like  ours,  only, 
of  course,  smaller. 

I  am  very  anxious  t"  have  this  letter  published 
in  HAKPEU'S  YOI'NG  PEOPLE,  as  it  is  my  first  letter. 
BESSIE  B.  (IS  years  old). 

A  very  good  letter  indeed,  Bessie.  I  hope  you 
will  tell  us  about  other  zoological  gardens  when 
you  visit  them.  One  day  last  summer  I  went  to 
Central  Park  to  see  the  animals.  I  had  with  me 
a  wee  tot  of  a  girl  five  years  old,  and  she — lit- 
tle May  was  her  name— her  mamma,  and  myself 
thought  we  would  feed  some  of  the  pretty,  gen- 
tle creatures.  There  was  a  giraffe,  a  stately  ani- 
mal, with  large  soft  eyes,  and  a  way  of  turning 
its  neck  as  I  have  seen  ladies  turn  theirs.  We 
fed  this  queenly  looking  thing  with  gingerbread, 
and  it  really  tried  to  thank  us,  and  did  not  be- 
have at  all  like  the  ill-bred,  spiteful  llama  which 
did  not  like  your  cracker.  At  our  Central  Park 
menagerie  there  are  lo  be  seen  at  present  a  flock 
of  ostriches,  some  of  them  so  tall  that  the  little 
folks  have  to  look  'way,  'way  up  to  see  their 
heads. 

VIRGINIA  CITY,  NEVADA. 

This  is  the  second  letter  I  have  ever  written.  I 
go  in  school,  and  I  like  it  very  much.  I  have 
never  been  to  school  until  this  summer  Mam- 
ma always  taught  me.  I  had  a  governess  once, 
but  she  did  not.  stay  long,  because  mamma  and 
papa  did  not  like  her.  1  had  a  little  dog.  but  this 
summer  he  went  away  one  morning,  and  never 
came  hack.  Papa  thinks  he  must  have  fallen 
into  a  shaft,  but  I  have  hopes  that  he  will  come 
back  some  time.  Our  weather  is  very  cold.  I 
shall  be  so  glad  when  the  snow  comes,  we  have 
so  much  fun  coasting. 

I  am  eleven  years  old.  I  have  no  brothers.  I 
have  one  sister,  but  she  is  married,  and  living  in 
San  Francisco.  I  have  two  nephews  and  one 
niece.  Mamma  thinks  my  letter  is  long  enough. 
1  shall  like  to  see  how  this  will  look  in  my  dear 
HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  NELLIE  A.  H. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  who  was  five  years  old  the  1st 
of  October.  My'sister  is  writing  this  letter  for 
me.  I  have  a  dog  named  Pompey  Aristotle  Wash- 
ington W.  A  boy  has  promised  me  a  little  kitten, 
and  I  am  going  to  call  it  siella.  I  like  your  pa- 
per very  much,  and  watch  every  Monday  for  the 
postman  to  bring  it.  1  saw  four  Chinese  babies 
baptized  last  Sunday.  They  were  all  dressed  fun- 
nily. The  mother  of  one  of  these  babies  has  little 
feet.  Two  of  the  children  were  boys,  and  two 

were  girls. 

Sometimes  I  go  to  the  Chinese  school,  and  like 
it  very  much.  1  have  heard  the  scholars  sing  and 
talk  in  Chinese.  I  have  lots  of  Chinese  candy. 
1  have  seen  and  tried  to  use  chopsticks,  but  I  like 


NOVEMBER  28,  1882. 


II A  Ul 'KU'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


63 


a  knife'  and  fork  better.  The  Chinese  gave  me 
l,,t-  .n  tiiv-aoi-ks  the  fourth  of  July,  and  my  big 
brother  Lincoln  lei  them  off. 

.My  inc.tlier  ha-  -one  I  i  Kngiand.  :ini\  will  he 
bad.  In  I  hri-l  iliii-.  1  car  read  ill  tlie  First  He:lil- 
rr.  ami  «-a!i  print  when  my  big  brother  -els  t  he 
t\p>-.  <,ood-by.  F'KANKMN  I'.i  ,  ki  a,  \V. 

llo\v  eagerly  you  must   1 Hunting  the  days 

until  i 'In  istmas,  so  tliat  y,,uina\  meet  dearmam- 
ma  again,  and  what  a  ki-s  anil  a  -iillee/,e  she 

will  [rfve  her  little  five-year-old  boy  when  she  sees 

him  again  :     I  would  have  felt  very  sorry  for  the 

|, '  i  him  -••  mother  with  the  tiny  hound  teet. 

and  I  think  I  would  like  to  see  a  chines.'  baby. 
But  I  could  not  eat  with  chopsticks  I 


NOALDB,  TKXAS. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  liave  two 
little  sisters:  their  names  are  Alma  and  Annie. 
\Ve  have  no  pels  except  a  little  kitten  ;  its  name 
is  I'.lossom.  !  like  HARPKK'S  YOIM.  Pmci  i  \,  rv 
much.  \Vr  have  lived  here  in  Noalde  nearly  a 
year.  It  is  an  old  hut  small  town,  and  situated 
-on  the  Western  frontier,  ahout  sixty  miles  from 
Mexi.-o  \\  e  think  it  i|iiitc  a  pretty  place.  The 
view  of  the  mountains  in  i  he  northwe-t  is  very 
fine.  Since  the  S.nit  hern  I'acilic  1,'ailroad  n  ad, 
ed  tlie  place  ihe  population  ha-  douhled.  and  it 
promises  to  be  quite  a  healt  ii  resort.  LICII.LE  R. 


Sniil.nvvii.i.E.  KE-T,,KV. 

I  have  one  net  :  it  is  a  pup.  I  hi-oughl  it  all  the 
wa\  I  roin  Madison  County,  Kentucky, in  a  basket. 
His  name  is  Don  I  go  to  school,  and  study  read- 
ing, spelling,  anthlndii  ,  and  i:.  '  ,_Ta  |,hy.  I  am 

I.- 1 1  years  old.     Papa  takes  HARPER'S  Yoi  M;  PEO- 
i-i.i:  lor  me.    I  like  it  ever  so  much. 

THOMAS  M.  C. 


I      CHUnV,  Nvw  Y,,Kh-.  ' 

I  am  a  lit  tie  girl  seven  years  old     [go  to  school, 

and   am   in    the  seventh   grade       We    ha\e  a   tire 

drill  every  inn.'  an>  roni(..ni\  c IS  to  \-isit  the 

school.  Papa  has  li\e  hirds  a  German  liulllmch, 
an  \tii,-an  nun,  an  indigo  bird,  a  \e|],,w  l.ird. 
and  an  L'nglish  goldtineh.  Our  canary,  boho- 
link,  and  nonpareil  died,  and  we  are  having  them 
stuffed.  I  would  like  lo  have  a  kitten,  hut  oats 

and   hirds  don't  agree.     I    go   I"  dancing  -el I 

every  Saturday  altcrnoon.  I  like  to  dance.  I 
love  lo  read  also  I  liked  "Toby  Tyler"  hi  -I  ot 
all  tin-  stories  I  think  Jimmy  Brown  i-  very 
funny,  lint  I  like  him.  My  cousin  Louisa  Alcott 
writes  beautiful  slories.  Perhaps  1  can  when  I 
get  older.  1  have  made  a  pn/,/.li-  shall  I  -.-nd 
it  to  you?  1  think  1  have  written  enough  I'm-  the 
present.  F'I.OKKNC  K  H.  A. 

Certainly,  dear,  scud  your  puzzle.  A  gnat 
many  of  our  readers  will  think  you  a  happ\  girl 
to  have  M  i-s  Alcol  i  for  a  con-in.  \\  c  shall  hi  -in 
the  puhlicalion  of  a  charming  chri-tlna-  -lory 
from  her  pen  in  our  next  numhcr.  Her  -lories 
are  indeed  In-anl  it  n!.  and  I  hope  you  may  write 
some  of  your  own  one  of  these  days. 


ALBANY  ,  MI--IH  ILL 

Can  you  tell  mo  a  new  kind  of  party  to  have! 
I  li\  e  in  a  country  town,  and  do  not  hear  of  much 
that  is  new  in  tlie  way  of  entertainments  I  am 
a  little  girl  thirteen  years  old.  I  do  not  go  to 

school,  hut  tak  ! private  lc-sons.    Hike  t hi-  > -h 

heller  than  going  to  school,  becaii-e  it  gives  me 

time  lo  h, I  of  door-  a  great  de:i  I.  and  to  lake 

many  a  .jolly  ride,  as  [  have  done  this  lovely  au- 
tumn weather.  I  went  on  one  yesterday  that  did 
not  end  so  pleasantly  as  1  cxpecled  il  would.  A 
little  playmalc  and  i  wi-nt  on  the  wagon  to  the 
saw  mill  for  a  load  of  lumber,  and  .jn-t  as  we 
started  tore! urn  it  began  to  rain.  Fortunately  we 
had  water-proofs,  ana  did  very  well  until  we  came 

to  a  long  sleep  hill,  then  the  horses  ivfll-cd  lo 
pull.  \Ve  were  in  a  predicament  :  several  miles 
from  home,  with  no  one'  to  help  us  out  of  our 
trouble.  The  man  who  was  driving  finally  grew 
a  link — well,  impatient.  After  a  tew  minutes' 
waiting  in  tlie  rain  we  saw.  much  to  our  relief 
and  joy,  our  carriage  that  papa  had  sent  for  us. 
Then  we  were  all  right,  and  were  home  in  a  very 
little  while.  I  send  a  dollar  for  Young  People's 
Cot.  BESS. 

Your  contribution,  which  arrived  too  late  for 
acknowledgment  in  the  next  report,  has  been 
sent  to  Miss  E.  A.  Fanshawe,  treasurer  of  the 
fund  for  Young  People's  Cot. 

Why  not  have  tableaux  at  your  party?  They 
would  require  a  little  preparation  and  practicing 
beforehand,  hut  there  is  a  great  deal  of  fun  to  be 
had  in  arranging  for  them,  and  they  always  please 
the  lookers-on.  Between  the  tableaux  you  might 
have  music. 

WOLFVM.I.E,  NOVA  SCOTIA. 

I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  have  five  brothers 
and  one  sister.  My  uncle,  who  lives  in  Ceylon, 
sent  meHARraB'sYoTrHG  PEOPLE.  When  the  first 
number  came,  T  wondered  how  the  editor  knew 
my  address  ;  hut  when  the  next  letter  came  from 
my  uncle.  I  knew,  for  I  found,  to  my  deliirht.  that 
he  had  ordered  it  sent  to  me.  I  think  he  is  the 


verv  he-t    uncle   in  the  world.     I  enjoy  reading 

t  h.-  -l  oi'ir-  \  cry  much,  and  my  brother-  and  little 

sister  enjoy  !  hi  la  i|llile  as  much  as  I.      We  live  ill 

a  \  i  TV  prdty  country  village,  and  my  papa  teach- 
•  i  .'.  i  k  anil  Latin  in  I  hi-  college,  w'hich  is  about 
a  mile  Ironi  our  house.  I  walk  nearly  a  mile 
every  day  to  attend  my  school,  which'  is  \ery 
pleasalil  in  tine  days,  but  I  do  nol  like  it  in 
sti  >riny  w  eat  her.  i  am  taking  music  lc—i.ns.  and 
PI  .el  ire  on  mamma's  piano  every  day.  I  think  1 
shall  like  it  very  much  when  I  get  farther  on. 

To-morrow  is  Thanksgiving-day,  and  I  am  to 
have  a  holiday.  The  last  lesson  my  teacher  _a\  e 
me  was  a  piece  Called  "The  Sack  \\  alt/."  I  think 
it  is  tin  it  e  pretty.  Hear  Postmistress.  1  am  afraid 
you  will  not  like  this  letter,  but  1  hope  I  may  be 
able  to  \\  rite  a  more  interesting  one  a  I  some  fu- 
ture time.  I  am  glad  tin-re  is  a  new  story  com- 
nii  in  cd  in  the  last  number.  I  expect  it  will  be 
very  nice.  LETTIE  M.  J. 

The  Thanksgiving-day  which  Let  tie  anticipated 
was  a  special  day  of  rejoicing  held  November  9, 
and  not  an  annual  holiday  like  our  own. 

You  could  have  written  nothing  to  please  me 
more  than  this.  dear.  I  am  sorry  you  IKIM  to 
walk  so  far  to  school,  and  for  your  sake  1  hope 
1  here  may  be  more  tine  days  than  stormy  one-  ; 

"And  taking  the  jcar  together,  my  dear," 
as  Ihe  song  sa>s. 

"There  isn't   more  -toi-m  than  sun." 


imh   a  tiny  acorn 

Thai   fell  from  a  hough  of  the  tree, 
"1)1   what  u-c  an-  you?"  said  tin-  wind  and  the 
rain, 

As   till  I     low    in    tlie    lea  ; 

But  a  giani  oak  grew  up  lo  tell 

-pot   where  the  little  acorn  fell. 


I'kXAH. 

We  an-  two  little  con-in-  w  ho  li\e  in  Hie  coun- 
try.and  an-  seven  and  eight  years  "id  v\  e  milk 
se vcn  cow  -  all  bv  ourselves, and  i  an  riih 
baek.  Our  grandma  teaches  us  at  home.  We 
ha\  -•  I  \\  o  pd  orphan  cah  c-,  named  T<  iby  Tyler 
and  Maydie.alid  a  sweet  little  baby  broil 

en  months  old.    We  like  the  Yoi        PEOPLE  verj 

much,  and  always  read  the  letter*  first. 

IM.X.  and  i  '•  i 

What  wonderful  childr-  n  \  i  ai  are,  to  be  able  to 
milk  seven  cows  your  own  littl<  selves!  I  hope- 
In.-  OOWS  an-  gentle  I  will  trust  >ou  n.-\er  to 
tdl  aiiUioily.  l.n-  1  wouldn't  like  all  the  children 
to  know  il.  bin  I  am  very  much  alraid  of  COWS, 

and  would   go  a   long  di-tanee   i 1   to  a\oid 

meeting  oni.     Now  don't  lau-hat  me.  Inez  and 
'  '  •  

I  '  l-rn!,M-,a   .    I'l   N^\  r  VAMA. 

I  do  nol  I  a  Ki  II  uil'Kl'.'s  V>i  \,.  I'Koi'i.r.  but  we 
have  been  reading  from  if  in  school.  I  think  it 
has  sonic  very  pretty  slories.  I  ^o  to  school, 
ami  so  [  !ia\e  not  eerj  much  time  lor  i-.-admg 
pap  r-  I  sni.ly  in  ti\'-  classes  I  do  not  study 
blstor;  at  present,  bin  I  think  I  -hall  next  week. 
On  Friday  we  have  drawing  in-ti  ad  of  spelling. 
Kvery  I  u  o  week-  tin-  Fourth  and  Fifth  l(cading 
clas-es  tell  -lories,  and  Ihe  others  ha\e  reclta 
lion-  I  am  in  Ihe  Fonrlh  Heading  (lass,  and  I 
am  eleven  \  ears  old  S  \  i  i  a  i  I  \l 

The  plan  of  telling  stories  is  an  excellent  one. 
ami  I  Ihink  your  teacher  has  some  very  good 
ideas.  \n  '.'in  allowed  to  relate  stories  which 

you  ha\e  read,  or  must  they  be  original  '.' 


I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.     I  like  •!  m  M. 

PEOPI.K  e\er  -o   much.       1    Want    lo  tell    \oll   ahollt 

my  cousin  Kmina's  little  dog.  lie  is  a  black-and- 
tan  terrier;  his  name  is  llensie.  He  can  sit  in 
t  he  cornet-  and  beg.  Do  you  like  dogs. dear  Post- 
n  i  i -I  re--?  I  know  you  would  like  llensie.  he  is  so 
cunning.  I  take  1.-— ons  on  the  piano,  but  do  not 
like  it.  I  have  three  hundred  and  twenty-eight 
picture  cards.  I  go  to  school.  Good-hy. 

LIZZIE  T. 

I  am  sure  I  would  admire  Hensie. 


POLAND,  XKW  YORK. 

lam  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  want  to  id] 
you  about  my  dolls.  I  have  a  cunning  little  boy 
doll.  It  will  turn  its  head  and  feet  and  arms.  It 
has  on  a  him'  waist,  and  white  pants  with  red 
stripes  through  them. 

I  have  another  doll  that  when  I  was  a  bahy 
was  taller  than  I  was.  I  spent  my  vacation  at 
my  grandma's,  and  had  a  pleasant  time.  Now 
good-by.  I  am  going  for  a  walk.  ALINA  V. 

SANOWICH,  ONTARIO. 

T  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  live  in  Can- 
ada, but  I  nm  a  Yankee  boy,  for  I  was  born  in 
Buffalo,  and  I  long  to  go  baek  to  my  own  State. 
I  see  all  the  little  children  write  about  their  pets, 
so  I  will  write  about  mine.  1  have  no  brothers 
or  sisters.  I  have  two  robins.  The  youngest  one 
I  picked  up  in  the  road  last  spring.  Mamma  fed 
it  and  raised  it.  When  it  was  a  full-grown  bird 


we  put  it  down  in  tin  orchard, thinking  it  would 

be  -o  glad  of  its  liberty  :  but  it  came  ri-hl  hack, 
and  begged  to  be  fed  and  to  go  into  its  cage 
again  :  and  we  could  not  m-t  rid  of  it.  so  w  e  had 
to  take  it  in  again.  Us  name  is  Ha  by.  I  a  No  ha  \c 
a  blue  skye  terrier,  and  his  name  is  Duke.  The 
mail  who  Owned  him  valued  him  ai  one  hundred 
dollars,  lie  hunts  my  chickens'  eggs,  and  carries 
them  in  his  mouth  without  breaking  the  shell. 

I  have  a  bi_r  gra>  cat  l  w  o  \eais  old.  and  his 
name  is  Twyldler.  I  have  a  lot  of  chickens,  and 
a  little  black  pony  called  Nellie.  1  take  lesson- 
on  the  piano,  and  can  play  three  picci -s  Am 
afraid  you  will  think  my  letter  too  long.  1,00,1 
by.  HARKY. 

H.  P.. —Write  to  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers  for 
the  numbers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  you  wish  lo  oh 
tain,  inclosing  four  cents  each  to  pay  for  them. 


Thomas  Conner.  Monroe,  Wisconsin,  withdraws 
his  name  from  the  list  of  exchangers. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 
NUMERICAL  ENICMA. 

I  am  composed  of  14  letters,  and  am  a  holiday. 
My  l.H. -1  is  a  utensil. 
My  14.  U.  11.  7  is  a  troop. 
My  :!.  t,  I  is  industrious. 
My  4.  s.  -1.  1  is  a  suggestion. 
My  7.  H,  0,  111.  11. 14  is  an  act  of  generosity. 
.My  4,  :i.  .">  is  a  hideous  ob|,  ,-l 
My  1,4, .'),  4,  5,  0  is  often  said  by  young  people. 

IKENE. 

No.  2. 

SIX   DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  litter  4  A  resinous  substance.  3.  A 
race  hor-e  I.  In  the  form  of  a  statement,  a. 
Spoiled.  l'i.  Told,  o  All  animal.  S.  A  color.  '.I. 
A  lei  tcr  CviMtrs. 

4  l.  \  xowcl.  4  A  girl's  name.  3.  T,,  ohlit- 
erate  l.  LlusUe.  .">.  Apart.  c>.  After  noon.  7. 
A  vowel. 

8.— 1.  A  letter  4.  dinning.  :!.  Pertaining  to 
Ihe  sun.  4.  Tempted.  ."L  Part  of  a  ship.  (j.  A 
Latin  root  meaning. 

4.— 1.  A  Idler.  4.  A  prelix  :!.  A  marine  pro- 
duction. 4.  A  bridle  maker.  .">.  lulled.  Ii.  I  .nided. 
7.  A  Idler.  JAY  KAY. 

.").  —  !.  A  Idler.  4.  A  utensil.  :!.  A  refreshing 
drink.  I.  A  spinner,  a.  A  letter.  F.mui:  o. 

(1.  — 1.  A  Idler.  4.  A  mineral  :i.  Attempted.  4. 
A  lish.  .">.  A  letter.  llAl'Pi  -tio-l.i  CKT, 

No  -': 

A    IIAl.F-SljrAUE. 

1.  A  letter.     4    \mu-icals\llable      :i  One  hun- 

dred  thousand.    4.  A  cord.    n.  i-'asiened 

JA\   KAY. 

No.  4. 

TWO  WORD   KOFAIIES. 

1.— 1.  Fluid.  3.  To  fasten.  3.  A  bird.  4.  A  ve- 
hicle. 

4  1.  An  inseet.  2.  Not  any.  3.  A  girl's  name. 
4.  A  rent.  SC.NFLOWEII. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  158. 
\»   I.  (Geranium. 

No.  2.  ON     !•: 

T  O  P 
o  R  E 
AFT 
R  O  K 
A  L  K 
SKY 

No.  3.  A  N  T  E  R    I    D  E  S 

CORONER 
D   E   c   K   Y 
THY 

E 

O   S  T 

P  A  T   L  Y 

RECEIPT 

SOVEREI    GN 

No.  4.  Flower,  lower.  Acorn,  corn.  Scamp,  camp. 

Grave,  rave.    Hearth,  earth. 
No.  5.  Hearts'-ease. 

Heart.    Heat.    Seat.    Tea.    Ease. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  sent  by 
Rose  Wright.  Berenice  Kantrowitz,  John  Fosier, 
Emma  MeKvoy,  Laurence  Parke.  Samuel  Gibson, 
AI  Dean,  Lncile,  "  Lodestar,"  D.  S.  Coe,  Elizabeth 
and  Alice.  St.  S.  Weil,  C.  De  Gangue.  Charlie 
Schilling,  Eddie  Lam1,  Tommy  Lincoln,  Mark  Bis- 
sell,  Amy  Towers.  Emmeline  King,  Adela  Parker, 
Fanny  Le  Clerc,  John  Cox,  "Indian  chief,"  vio- 
let D..  R.  T.  A.,  L.  C..  Llewellyn  Thomas.  Archi- 
bald Owen.  Douglas  K.,  Hugh  and  Gordon,  Lu- 
cille Roberts. 

LFW  Exchanges,  see  third  page  of  cover.} 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"WHAT'S    THAT?" 

THE  CURIOUS  FEAST. 

BY  G.  B.  BARTLETT, 
AUTHOR  OF  "NEW  GAMES  FOR  PARLOR  AND  LAWN." 

AS  feasting  is  a  marked  feature  of  Thanksgiving-time,  we 
present  to  our  readers  a  feast  which  will  have  the  merit 
of  novelty  and  of  exercising  their  ingenuity  and  taste.  Easy- 
rhymed  enigmas  or  short  conundrums  should  be  written  on  cards 
of  some  pretty  design,  each  one  of  which  describes  some  article 
upon  the  table,  and  the  child  who  first  guesses  the  puzzle  re- 
tains the  card  upon  which  the  description  was  written. 

When  tlie  appetites  of  the  children  have  been  in  some  measure 
appeased  the  game  is  usually  begun.  The  lady  who  presides  at 
the  table  draws  a  card  from  an  ornamental  basket  which  stands 
before  her,  and,  after  reading  it.  calls  on  all  who  have  guessed  it 
to  hold  up  their  right  hands.  If  mure  than  one  hand  is  raised  at 
the  same  moment,  she  gives  the  card  to  the  first  player  on  her 
right,  and  another  card  bearing  a  number  only  to  each  of  the 
others.  These  cards  all  draw  prizes  numbered  to  correspond  if 
they  are  retained  until  the  end  of  the  evening.  Before 
giving  an  account  of  the  funny  way  in  which  these 
cards  may  be  lost,  we  give  a  few  specimens  of  the 


enigmas,  in  making  which,  as  in  all  enigmas,  the  sound  and  not 
the  spelling  is  followed ;  the  answers  are  omitted  from  the  cards 
used. 

Table  Furniture. 


My  first  is  very  good  to  take; 
My  second  you  should  not  forsake. 
Aim.  >"ap-kin. 


My  first  will  foaming  floods  restrain ; 
You'll  find  my  second  "  Ask  again." 
Ans.  Dam-ask. 


Viands. 

My  second  finds  her  wild  abode  My  turbaned  first  is  fierce  and  free  ; 

Where  my  hot  first  is  freely  strqwed.    My  next  unlocks  much  mystery. 
Aits.  Sand-wich.  Ans.  Turkey. 

Fruit. 

My  fir<t  is  part  of  every  banner,  My  sounding  first  is  always  round  ; 

Sly  last  the  eud  of  Morgiana.  My  next  is  in  the  kitchen  found. 

-I 'i*.  Banana.  '          Ai/x.  Orange. 

In  describing  articles  which  have  but  one  syllable  the  card 
may  bear  a  simple  question  in  the  form  of  a  conundrum,  as 
follows : 

No.  19.  What  letter  will  you  drink  ?— T.    No.  20.  What  fruit  comes  from 
the  diary  ?— Dates.     No.  21.  What  fruit  caused  the  swiftest  to  lose  the 


patient  ot  the  table  furnishings? — 1 
waiters.    No.  25.  Which  are  the  fastest?— The  dish  that  ran  away  with  the 
spoon.    No.  26.  Which  fruits  are  most  worthy  of  trust  ? — The  candied  ones. 

These  cards,  having  been  awarded  to  the  children  who  have 
guessed  their  meaning,  are  not  always  sure  to  secure  for  them 
the  prizes  which  arc  designated  by  the  numbers  which  they  bear ; 
for  while  the  children  are  all  busily  engaged  in  eating,  a  new 
trial  of  their  powers  is  introduced. 

By  the  side  of  the  lady  who  sits  at  the  head  of  the  table  is  a 
small  striking-bell,  such  as  is  used  ordinarily  to  summon  the 
servant.  When  this  bell  is  sounded  every  person  must  stop  in- 
stantly in  whatever  position  he  may  chance  to  he,  and  must  re- 
main perfectly  motionless  until  he  hears  two  strokes  of  the  bell, 
by  which  he  knows  that  the  moment  for  resuming  his  occupation 
has  come.  It  is  very  funny  to  see  the  various  attitudes  in  which 
the  merry  feasters  are  held  spell-bound  by  this  signal,  for  if  any 
one  makes  the  slightest  movement  after  it  has  sounded,  his  card 
is  forfeited,  and  becomes  the  property  of  a  more  attentive  guest, 
lint  should  the  cards  lost  by  this  trial,  as  is  seldom  the  case,  be 
too  few  to  supply  the  demand  of  the  winners,  the  hostess  makes 
up  the  deficiency  by  giving  out  more  numbered  cards.  This  sig- 
nal is  repeated  several  times,  thus  keeping  the  attention  on  the 
alert,  and  causing  shouts  of  laughter  which  render  the  attempts 
to  keep  still  more  and  more  difficult. 

When  the  supper  is  at  last  over,  the  children  form  in  two  lines 
across  the  room.  The  prizes  are  then  brought  in  and  spread  upon 
a  small  table,  which  is  wheeled  into  the  middle  of  the  room  be- 
tween the  two  rows  of  expectant  children.  The  lady  then  takes 
up  each  prize  in  turn,  and  calls  out  the  number  with  which  it  is 
marked  on  the  paper  in  which  it  is  wrapped.  The  child  who 
holds  the  card  bearing  the  number  walks  down  the  line  to  the 
table  and  opens  his  present,  tu  the  great  interest  of  the  spectators. 
These  prizes  are  of  varied  kinds,  according  to  the  ages  of  the  chil- 
dren and  the  liberality  of  their  friends.  Among  them  is  a  silver 
spoon,  the  fortunate  winner  of  which  is  expected  to  give  the 
next  feast. 

Besides  being  very  amusing,  this  feast  is  an  intellectual  one, 
for  after  a  little  practice  the  children  will  enjoy  making  the 
the  cards  as  much  as  guessing  them,  and  for  this  rea- 
son only  a  few  specimens  of  each  sort  are  here 
given. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  li ;!. 


BY  HARPER  &  JUIOTIIERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FOUR   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  December  "i,  1st!. 


Copyright,  lay.',  by  HABPEU  A  BHOTHBKa. 


81.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


'DEAR   CHILD.  YOU   ARE    LOST,  AND    I    HAVE    COME    TO    FIND    YOU." 


A  CHRISTMAS  DREAM,  AND  HOW  IT  CAME  TRUE. 

BY  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 

"  T'M  so  tired  of  Christmas  I  wish  there  never  would  be 
•JL  another  one !"  exclaimed  a  discontented-looking  little 
girl,  as  she  sat  idly  watching  her  mother  arrange  a  pile 
of  gifts  two  days  before  they  were  to  be  given. 


"Why,  Effie,  what  a  dreadful  thing  to  say!  You  are 
as  bad  as  old  Scrooge,  and  I'm  afraid  something  will  hap- 
pen to  you,  as  it  did  to  him,  if  you  don't  care  for  dear 
Christmas,"  answered  mamma,  almost  dropping  the  silver 
horn  she  was  filling  with  delicious  candies. 

"Who  was  Scrooge?  what  happened  to  him?"  asked 
Effie,  with  a  glimmer  of  interest  in  her  listless  face,  as  she 


66 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


picked  out  the  sourest  lemon-drop  she  could  find,  for  no- 
thing sweet  suited  her  just  then. 

"He  was  one  of  Dickeiis's  best  people,  and  you  can 
read  the  charming  story  some  day.  He  hated  Christmas, 
until  a  strange  dream  showed  him  how  dear  and  beauti- 
ful it  was,  and  made  a  better  man  of  him." 

"I  shall  read  it,  for  I  like  dreams,  and  have  a  great 
many  curious  ones  myself.  But  they  don't  keep  me  from 
being-  tired  of  Christmas,"  said  Effie,  poking  discontented- 
ly among  the  sweeties  for  something  worth  eating. 

"Why  are  you  tired  of  what  should  be  the  happiest 
time  of  all  the  year .'"  asked  mamma,  anxiously. 

"  Perhaps  I  shouldn't  be  if  I  had  something  new.  But 
it  is  always  the  same,  and  there  isn't  any  more  surprise 
about  it.  I  always  find  heaps  of  goodies  in  my  stocking. 
Don't  like  some  of  them,  and  soon  get  tired  of  those  I  do 
like.  We  always  have  a  great  dinner,  and  I  always  eat 
too  much,  and  feel  ill  next  day.  Then  there  is  always  a 
Christmas  tree  somewhere,  with  a  doll  on  top.  or  a  stupid 
old  Santa  Clans,  and  children  dancing  and  screaming 
over  bonbons  and  toys  that  break,  and  shiny  things  that  ! 
are  of  no  use.  Really,  mamma,  I've  had  so  many  Christ- 
mases  all  alike  that  I  don't  think  I  can  bear  another  one." 
And  Effie  laid  herself  flat  on  the  sofa,  as  if  the  mere  idea 
was  too  much  for  her. 

Her  mother  laughed  at  her  despair,  but  was  sorry  to  see 
her  little  girl  so  discontented,  when  she  had  everything  to 
make  her  happy,  and  had  known  but  ten  Christmas-days. 

"Suppose  we  don't  give  you  any  presents  at  all — how 
would  that  suit  you  '."  asked  mamma,  anxious  to  please 
her  spoiled  child. 

"I  should  like  one  large  and  splendid  one,  and  one 
dear  little  one,  to  remember  some  very  nice  person  by," 
said  Effie,  who  was  a  fanciful  little  body,  full  of  odd 
whims  and  notions,  which  her  friends  loved  to  gratify, 
regardless  of  time,  trouble,  or  money,  for  she  was  the  last 
of  four  little  girls,  and  very  dear  to  all  the  family. 

"Well,  my  darling,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  to  please 
you,  and  not  say  a  word  until  all  is  ready.  If  I  could 
only  get  a  new  idea  to  start  with!"  And  mamma  went 
on  tying  up  her  pretty  bundles  with  a  thoughtful  face, 
while  Effie  strolled  to  the  window  to  watch  the  rain  that 
kept  her  in-doors  and  made  her  dismal. 

"Seems  to  me  poor  children  have  better  times  than 
rich  ones.  I  can't  go  out,  and  there  is  a  girl  about  my 
age  splashing  along,  without  any  maid  to  fuss  about  rub- 
bers and  cloaks  and  umbrellas  and  colds.  I  wish  I  was  a 
beggar-girl." 

"Would  you  like  to  be  hungry,  cold,  and  ragged,  to 
beg  all  day,  and  sleep  on  an  ash  heap  at  night?"  asked 
mamma,  wondering  what  would  come  next. 

"  Cinderella  did,  and  had  a  nice  time  in  the  end.  This 
girl  out  here  has  a  basket  of  scraps  on  her  arm,  and  a  big 
old  shawl  all  round  her,  and  doesn't  seem  to  care  a  bit, 
though  the  water  runs  out  of  the  toes  of  her  boots.  She 
goes  paddling  along,  laughing  at  the  rain,  and  eating  a 
cold  potato  as  if  it  tasted  nicer  than  the  chicken  and  ice- 
cream I  had  for  dinner.  Yes,  I  do  think  poor  children 
are  happier  than  rich  ones." 

"  So  do  I,  sometimes.  At  the  Orphan  Asylum  to-day  I 
saw  two  dozen  merry  little  souls  who  have  no  parents,  no 
home,  and  no  hope  of  Christmas  beyond  a  stick  of  candy 
or  a  cake.  I  wish  you  had  been  there  to  see  how  happy 
they  were,  playing  with  the  old  toys  some  richer  children 
had  sent  them." 

"You  'may  give  them  all  mine;  I'm  so  tired  of  them  I 
never  want  to  see  them  again,"  said  Effie,  turning  from 
the  window  to  the  pretty  baby  house  full  of  every  thing 
a  child's  heart  could  desire. 

"I  will,  and  let  you  begin  again  with  something  you 
will  not  tire  of,  if  I  can  only  find  it."  And  mamma  knit 
her  brows  trying  to  discover  some  grand  surprise  for  this 
child  who  didn't  care  for  Christmas. 


Nothing  more  was  said  then,  and  wandering  off  to  the 
library.  Effie  found  A  Christmas  Carol,  and  curling  her- 
self up  in  the  sofa  corner,  read  it  all  before  tea.  Some  of 
it  she  did  not  understand,  but  she  laughed  and  cried  over 
many  parts  of  the  charming  story,  and  felt  better  without 
knowing  why. 

All  the  evening  she  thought  of  poor  Tiny  Tim.  Mrs. 
Cratchet  with  the  pudding,  and  the  stout  old  gentleman 
who  danced  so  gayly  that  "  his  legs  twinkled  in  the  air." 

Presently  bed-time  arrived. 

"Come,  now,  and  toast  your  feet,"  said  Effie's  nurse, 
"  while  I  do  your  pretty  hair  and  tell  stories." 

"  I'll  have  a  fairy  tale  to-night,  a  very  interesting  one," 
commanded  Effie,  as  she  put  on  her  blue  silk  wrapper  and 
little  fur-lined  slippers  to  sit  before  the  fire  and  have  her 
long  curls  brushed. 

So  Nursey  told  her  best  tales,  and  when  at  last  the  child 
lay  down  under  her  lace  curtains,  her  head  was  full  of  a 
curious  jumble  of  Christmas  elves,  poor  children,  snow- 
storms, sugar-plums,  and  surprises;  so  it  is  no  wonder 
that  she  dreamed  all  night,  and  this  was  the  dream  which 
she  never  quite  forgot: 

She  found  herself  sitting  on  a  stone,  in  the  middle  of  a 
great  field,  all  alone.  The  snow  was  falling  fast,  a  bitter 
wind  whistled  by,  and  night  was  coming  on.  She  felt 
hungry,  cold,  and  tired,  and  did  not  know  where  to  go 
nor  what  to  do. 

"I  wanted  to  be  a  beggar-girl,  and  now  I  am  one,  but  I 
don't  like  it,  and  wish  somebody  would  come  and  take 
care  of  me.  I  don't  know  who  1  am,  and  I  think  I  must 
be  lost,"  thought  Effie,  with  the  curious  interest  one  takes 
in  one's  self  in  dreams. 

But  the  more  she  thought  about  it,  the  more  bewildered 
she  felt.  Faster  fell  the  snow,  colder  blew  the  wind, 
darker  grew  the  night,  and  poor  Effie  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  was  quite  forgotten  and  left  to  freeze  alone.  The 
tears  were  chilled  on  her  cheeks,  her  feet  felt  like  icicles, 
and  her  heart  died  within  her,  so  hungry,  frightened,  and 
forlorn  was  she.  Laying  her  head  on  her  knees,  she  gave 
herself  up  for  lost,  and  sat  there  with  the  great  flakes  fast 
turning  her  to  a  little  white  mound,  when  suddenly  the 
sound  of  music  reached  her,  and  starting  up,  she  looked 
and  listened  with  all  her  eyes  and  ears. 

Far  away  a  dim  light  shone,  and  a  voice  was  heard 
singing.  She  tried  to  run  toward  the  welcome  glimmer, 
but  could  not  stir,  and  stood  like  a  small  statue  of  expec- 
tation while  the  light  drew  nearer,  and  the  sweet  words 
of  the  song  grew  clearer. 

From  our  happy  home 

Through  the  world  we  roam 
One  week  in  all  the  year, 

Making  winter  spring 

With  the  joy  we  bring, 
For  Christmas-tide  is  line. 

Xow  the  eastern  star 

Shines  from  afar 
To  liiilit'the  poorest  home; 

Hearts   warmer  grow, 

Gifts  frcelv  flow, 
For  Christmas-tide  lias  come. 

Xow  gay  trees  rise 

Before  young  eyes. 
Abloom  with  tempting  cheer; 

Blithe  voices  sing, 

And  blithe  bells  ring, 
For  Christmas-tide  is  here. 

O,  happy  chime, 

o,  blessed  time. 
That  draws  us  all  so  near ! 

"  Welcome,  dear  day," 

All  creatures  say, 
For  Christmas-tide  has  come. 

A  child's  voice  sang,  a  child's  hand  carried  the  little 
candle,  and  in  the  circle  of  soft  light  it  shed  Effie  saw  a 


DECEMBER  5,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


67 


pretty  child  coming'  to  her  through  the  night  and  snow. 
A  rosy,  smiling  creature,  wrapped  in  white  fur,  with  a 
wreath  of  green  and  scarlet  holly  on  its  shining  hair,  the 
magic  candle  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  outstretched  as  if 
to  shower  gifts  and  warmly  press  all  other  hands. 

Eth'e  forgot  to  speak  as  this  bright  vision  came  nearer, 
leaving  no  trace  of  footsteps  in  the  snow,  only  lighting  the 
way  with  its  little  candle,  and  filling  the  air  with  the  music 
of  its  song. 

"  Dear  child,  you  are  lost,  and  I  have  come  to  find  you," 
said  the  stranger,  taking  Effie's  cold  hands  in  his,  with  a 
smile  like  sunshine,  while  every  holly  berry  glowed  like  a 
little  fire. 

"  Do  you  know  me  '."  asked  Efh'e,  feeling  no  fear,  but  a 
great  gladness,  at  his  coming. 

"I  know  all  children,  and  go  to  find  them,  for  this  is 
my  holiday,  and  I  gather  them  from  all  parts  of  the  world 
to  be  merry  with  me  once  a  year.'' 

"  Are  you  an  angel  t"  asked  Etlie,  looking  for  the  wings. 

"  No;  I  am  a  Christmas  spirit,  and  live  with  my  mates  in 
a  pleasant  place,  getting  ready  for  our  holiday,  when  we 
are  let  out  to  roam  about  the  world,  helping  make  this  a 

happy  time  for  all  who  will   let  us  in.      \Yill   y 'ome 

and  see  how  we  work  '" 

"  I  will  go  any  where  with  von.  Don't  leave  me  again," 
cried  Kllie.  gladly. 

"  First  I  will  make  you  comfortable.  That  is  what  we 
love  to  do.  You  are  cold,  and  you  shall  be  warm  :  hun- 
gry, and  I  will  feed  you;  sorrowful,  and  I  will  make  you 

gay." 

With  a  wave  of  his  candle  all  three  miracles  were 
wrought,  fin-  the  snow-Hakes  turned  to  a  white  fur  cloak 
and  hood  on  Effie's  head  and  shoulders,  a  bowl  of  hot  soup 
came  sailing  to  her  lips,  and  vanished  when  she  had  ea-jvr]  v 
drank  the  last  drop,  and  suddenly  the  dismal  Held  changed 
to  a  new  world  so  full  of  wonders  that  all  her  troubles 
were  forgotten  in  a  minute. 

Bells  were  ringing  so  merrily  that  it  was  bard  to  keep 
from  dancing.  Green  garlands  hung  on  the  walls,  and 
every  tree  was  a  Christmas  tree  full  of  toys,  and  blazing 
with  candles  that  never  went  out. 

In  one  place  many  little  spirits  sewed  like  mad  on  warm 
clothes,  turning  off  work  faster  than  any  sewing-machine 
ever  invented,  and  great  piles  were  made  ready  to  be  sent 
to  poor  people.  Other  busy  creatures  packed  money  into 
purses,  and  wrote  checks  which  they  sent  flying  away  on 
the  wind,  a  lovely  kind  of  snow-storm  to  fall  into  a  world 
below  full  of  poverty. 

Older  and  graver  spirits  were  looking  over  piles  of  little 
books,  in  which  the  records  of  the  past  year  were  kept, 
telling  how  different  people  had  spent  it,  and  what  sort  of 
gifts  they  deserved.  Some  got  peace,  some  disappoint- 
ment, some  remorse  and  sorrow,  some  great  joy  and  hope. 
The  rich  had  generous  thoughts  sent  them,  the  poor  grati- 
tude and  contentment.  Children  had  more  love  and  duty 
to  parents,  and  parents  renewed  patience,  wisdom,  and 
satisfaction  for  and  in  their  children.  No  one  was  for- 
gotten. 

"  Please  tell  me  what  splendid  place  this  is  ?"  asked  Ef- 
fle,  as  soon  as  she  could  collect  her  wits  after  the  first  look 
at  all  these  astonishing  things. 

"This  is  the  Christmas  country,  and  here  we  work 
all  the  year  round,  never  tired  of  getting  ready  for  the 
happy  day.  See,  these  are  the  saints  just  setting  off,  for 
some  have  far  to  go,  and  the  children  must  not  be  disap- 
pointed." 

As  he  spoke  the  spirit  pointed  to  four  gates,  out  of  which 
four  great  sleighs  were  just  driving,  laden  with  toys,  while 
a  jolly  old  Santa  Claus  sat  in  the  middle  of  each,  drawing 
on  his  mittens  and  tucking  up  his  wraps  for  a  long  cold 
drive. 

"  Why,  I  thought  there  was  only  one  Santa  Claus,  and 
even  he  was  a  humbug, "  cried  Effie,  astonished  at  the  sight. 


"  Never  give  up  your  faith  in  the  sweet  old  stories,  even 
after  you  come  to  see  that  they  are  only  the  pleasant  shad- 
ow of  a  lovely  truth." 

Just  then  the  sleighs  went  off  with  a  great  jingling  of 
bells  and  pattering  of  reindeer  hoofs,  while  all  the  spirits 
gave  a  cheer  that  was  heard  in  the  lower  world,  where 
people  said,  "  Hear  the  stars  sing." 

"I  never  will  say  there  isn't  any  Santa  Claus  again. 
Now  show  me  more." 

"You  will  like  to  see  this  place,  I  think,  and  may  learn, 
something  here,  perhaps." 

The  spirit  smiled  as  he  led  the  way  to  a  little  door, 
through  which  Effie  peeped  into  a  world  of  dolls.  Baby 
houses  were  in  full  blast,  with  dolls  of  all  sorts  going  oil 
like  live  people.  Waxen  ladies  sat  in  their  parlors  ele- 
gantly dressed;  black  dolls  cooked  in  the  kitchens;  nurses 
walked  out  with  the  bits  of  dollies;  and  the  streets  were 
full  of  tin  soldiers  marching,  wooden  horses  prancing, 
express  wagons  rumbling,  and  little  men  hurrying  to  and 
fro.  Shops  were  there,  and  tiny  people  buying  legs  of 
mutton,  pounds  of  tea,  mites  of  clothes,  and  everything 
dolls  use,  or  wear,  or  want. 

But  presently  she  saw  that  in  some  ways  the  dolls  im- 
proved upon  the  manners  and  customs  of  human  beings, 
and  .she  watched  eagerly  to  learn  why  they  did  these 
things.  A  line  Paris  doll  driving  in  her  carriage  took  up 
a  black  worsted  Dinah  who  was  hobbling  along  with  a 
basket  of  clean  clothes,  and  carried  her  to  her  journev's 
end.  as  if  it  was  the  proper  thing  to  do.  Another  inter- 
esting china  lady  took  off  her  comfortable  red  cloak  and 
put  it  round  a  poor  wooden  creature  done  up  in  a  paper 
shift,  and  so  badly  painted  that  its  face  would  have  sent 
some  babies  into  tits. 

•'Seems  to  me  1  once  knew  a  rich  girl  who  didn't  give 
her  things  to  poor  girls.  I  wish  I  could  remember  who 
she  was.  and  tell  her  to  be  as  kind  as  that  china  doll,"  said 
EHie,  much  touched  at  the  sweet  way  the  pretty  creature 
wrapped  up  Hie  poor  fright,  and  then  ran  off  in  her  little 
gray  gown  to  buy  a  shiny  fowl  stuck  on  a  wooden  plat- 
ter for  her  invalid  mother's  dinner. 

"  \Ve  recall  these  things  to  people's  minds  by  dreams. 
I  think  the  girl  you  speak  of  won't  forget  this  one  ;" 
and  the  spirit  smiled  as  if  he  enjoyed  some  joke  which  she 
did  not  see. 

A  little  bell  rang  as  she  looked,  and  away  scampered 
the  children  into  the  red-and-green  school-house  with  the 
roof  that  lifted  up,  so  one  could  see  how  nicely  they  sat 
at  their  desks  with  mites  of  books,  or  drew  on  the  inch- 
square  blackboards  with  crumbs  of  chalk. 

"They  know  their  lessons  very  well,  and  are  as  still 
as  mice.  We  make  a  great  racket  at  our  school,  and 
get  bad  marks  every  day.  I  shall  tell  the  girls  they  had 
better  mind  what  they  do,  or  their  dolls  will  be  better 
scholars  than  they  are,"  said  Effie,  much  impressed,  as 
she  peeped  in  and  saw  no  rod  in  the  hand  of  the  little 
mistress,  who  looked  up  and  shook  her  head  at  the  in- 
truder, as  if  begging  her  to  go  away  before  the  order  of 
the  school  was  disturbed. 

Effie  retired  at  once,  but  could  not  resist  one  look  in  at 
the  window  of  a  fine  mansion,  where  the  family  were  at 
dinner,  the  children  behaved  so  well  at  table,  and  never 
grumbled  a  bit  when  their  mamma  said  they  could  not 
have  any  more  fruit. 

"  Now  show  me  something  else,"  she  said,  as  they  came 
again  to  the  low  door  that  led  out  of  Doll-land. 

"You  have  seen  how  we  prepare  for  Christmas;  let  me 
show  you  where  we  love  best  to  send  our  good  and  happy 
gifts, "  answered  the  spirit,  giving  her  his  hand  again. 

''  I  know.  I've  seen  ever  so  many,"  began  Efh'e,  think- 
ing of  her  own  Christmases. 

"  No,  you  have  never  seen  what  I  will  show  you.  Corne 
away,  and  remember  what  you  see  to-night." 

[TO   BE    CONTINUED.] 


68 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


EGYPTIAN    CHILD    AND    (iOAT. 


BOY  LIFE  ON  THE  NILE. 

BY  HELEN  S.  CONANT. 

is  one  of  the  oldest  countries  in  the  world.  The 
X-J  great  river  Nile,  which  Hows  through  this  ancient 
land,  has  witnessed  many  strange  things  which  men  would 
give  much  to  learn  about.  It  flowed  placidly  while  the 
great  Pyramids,  which  are  one  of  the  wonders  of  the 
world,  were  being  built,  and  the  thousands  of  mummies 
•which  are  found  in  ancient  tombs  sailed,  perhaps,  as  chil- 
dren on  its  waters,  or  scampered  about  on  its  banks,  as 
boys  scamper  about  there  at  the  present  time. 

Egyptian  peasant  boys  lead  a  very  free  and  .simple  life. 
As  the  climate  is  warm,  they  need  very  little  clothing.  If 
a  youthful  Egyptian  possesses  a  cotton  shirt  and  a  turban 
of  the  same  material,  he  needs  nothing  more.  His  little 
brown  face  is  as  serious  as  that  of  an  old  man,  and  to  look 
at  it  you  would  never  believe  that  its  little  owner  had  a 
large  fund  of  mischief  in  him. 

When  an  Egyptian  boy  is  about  three  years  old,  all  his 
hair  is  shaved  off  except  a  little  tuft  on  the  top  of  his 
head.  It  is  a  great  day  in  the  household  when  the  boy  is 
shaven  for  the  first  time.  If  the  parents  are  not  too  poor, 
a  great  feast  is  made,  and  the  finest  goat  of  the  flock  is 
chosen  and  sacrificed  in  honor  of  the  village  saint.  The 
little  fellow's  babyhood  is  over,  and  he  begins  to  wear  the 
cotton  turban,  and  take  his  place  among  the  boys  of  his 
neighborhood.  He  begins  to  tend  the  great  herds  of  sheep 
and  goats  which  live  on  the  vast  sandy  plains,  and  soon 
becomes  an  experienced  herdsman. 

When  Mr.  Bridgmaii,  an  American  artist,  was  in  Egypt, 
he  made  a  beautiful  painting  of  one  of  these  peasant  boys, 
from  which  the  engraving  given  on  this  page  was  taken. 
The  boy  is  in  the  native  costume  of  his  country,  and  he 
leans  so  lovingly  against  the  great  goat,  which  is  almost 
as  tall  as  its  little  master,  that  one  can  see  it  is  his  famil- 
iar pet  and  playfellow. 

These  Egyptian  boys  have  school  days  also,  for  in  near- 
ly every  village  along  the  Nile  they  are  required  to  attend 
the  classes  for  a  certain  number  of  hours  every  day. 
They  do  not  learn  much, for  the  neatly  printed  and  prettily 
bound  geographies  and  spelling-books  of  American  school- 


rooms are  unknown  among  the 
poor  people  of  Egypt.  The 
school-book  of  an  Egyptian  boy 
is  a  large  tablet  of  wood  painted 
white,  upon  which  the  teacher 
writes  the  lesson  with  a  piece  of 
charcoal.  When  one  lesson  is 
learned,  it  is  washed  off,  and  a 
new  one  written.  To  learn  to 
read  and  repeat  the  whole  of  the 
Koran,  which  is  the  religious 
book  of  the  Arabs,  comprises 
the  whole  course  of  education 
of  an  Egyptian  peasant  boy. 

The  school-room  is  the  queer- 
est place  you  can  imagine.  The 
boys  all  sit  cross-legged  on  the 
Hoor  in  front  of  the  teacher. 
They  hold  their  tablets  in  their 
hands,  and  rock  back  and  forth 
as  they  study.  They  all  learn 
their  lessons  aloud,  and  the  din 
of  their  shrill  voices  is  wonder- 
ful. The  noise  can  be  heard  at 
a  distance  from  the  school-room, 
and  you  would  think  that  they 
were  screaming  and  fighting,  in- 
stead of  peacefully  studying 
their  lessons. 

Undutif  ul  or  disobedient  boys 
are  rarely  found  among  Arab 
children,  for  respect  toward  their  parents  and  elderly  peo- 
ple is  one  of  the  first  things  they  are  taught. 

Unfortunately  they  do  not  show  the  same  respect  for 
travellers  who  visit  their  country.  Toward  any  foreign- 
er, who  is  looked  upon  with  dislike  because  he  does  not 
believe  in  the  Koran.  Egyptian  boys  are  allowed  to  show 
any  impertinence  which  their  mischievous  little  brains 
can  invent.  Like  their  parents,  they  are  born  beggars, 
and  set  upon  any  unfortunate  traveller  in  the  most  furi- 
ous manner.  The  moment  one  lands  he  is  surrounded  by 
men.  women,  and  children,  all  screaming  for  alms.  With 
such  an  example  before  them,  the  ignorant  boys  can  hard- 
ly be  blamed  for  their  bad  conduct. 

A  gentleman  travelling  011  the  Nile  relates  that  once  he 
stopped  at  a  landing-place,  and  went  on  shore  to  visit  the 
Sheik  (chief)  of  the  village  to  whom  he  had  a  letter  of  in- 
troduction. The  moment  he  set  foot  on  land,  he  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  boys  all  hooting  and  shouting 
"  Backsheesh  !  backsheesh  !"  (alms,  alms).  He  could  speak 
a  little  Arabic,  and  tried  to  silence  them  with  threats,  but 
they  only  howled  louder  and  louder,  and  began  to  throw 
mud  and  stones  with  such  violence  that  he  was  about  to 
retreat  to  his  boat,  when  the  tall  figure  of  the  Sheik  ap- 
peared on  the  scene.  The  venerable  man  held  up  a  warn- 
ing finger  to  the  crowd  of  young  rogues,  who  instantly  be- 
came quiet,  and  vanished  as  suddenly  as  a  swarm  of  flies. 
In  some  localities  where  travellers  are  very  frequent 
the  peasant  boys  learn  that  it  is  better  to  work  for  money 
than  to  beg  for  it.  They  spend  all  their  leisure  time  carv- 
ing bits  of  wood,  and  making  curious  ornaments  out  of 
seeds  and  other  things,  which  they  offer  for  sale.  These 
young  merchants  are  very  sharp  at  a  bargain,  and  will 
not  part  with  their  wares  except  for  a  fair  price.  A  trav- 
eller once,  while  bargaining  with  these  little  peddlers,  took 
out  his  watch.  Immediately  a  dozen  pair  of  dark  eyes 
were  bent  upon  it.  The  ticking  excited  the  wildest  aston- 
ishment, and  after  the  watch  had  been  held  to  all  the 
tawny  ears,  it  was  in  vain  that  the  gentleman  assured 
them  that  it  was  not  alive.  They  looked  upon  it  as  a  new- 
kind  of  animal,  and  ran  away  to  tell  their  companions  of 
the  strange  and  wonderful  creature  which  the  stranger 
carried  in  his  pocket. 


DECKMHEK  :,,  1SS-J. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


69 


II 


THE  ELEPHANT  KEEPER'S  STORY. 

BY  KDWAKI)  I.  STKVKXSOX. 

lire.  I  certainly  didn't  manage 
get  rich  with  it  at  all:  hut 
you  must  recollect,  sir.  that 
rolling  stones  don't  gather 
inudi  nio>s." 
The  man  who  found 
tliis  old  proverb  a 
liaiidy  excuse  was  a 
swarthy  thickset  lit- 
tle fellow,  standing 
ill  the  stone  paved 
i-ourl  yard  of  Squire 
Buckle's  stahk-s,  talk- 
ing with  the  Squire 
hinisi-lf.  He  gave  his  flaming  red  neckerchief  an  apolo 
getic  twitch,  and  was  silent. 

The  good  humored  old  Squire  eyed  linn  thoughtfully. 
"  Well.  well.  .1  miket."  lie  responded.  "1  dare  say  you're 
not  to  Maine  for  ill-luck:  and  if  you're  tired  of  roving, 
why,  you  can  have  \  our  old  place  again.  I'm  glad  I"  see 
you  back.  But  suppose  you  linish  your  story  where  you 
left.  oil'.  You  \\ere  saying  that  while  you  were  at  Lord 
Haw's  that  place  in  the  show  was  oil. -red  you,  eh  .'"  The 
Squire  bewail  pat  rolling  tin-  stable  \  ard  again,  .lunket. 

walking  at  his  side,  took  up  the  thread  of  his  adventures : 

"  No,  si  I1,  it  wasn't  while  I  was  at  Lord  1  law's  at  all.  hut 
after  his  death,  that  one  of  the  gentlemen  ;it  1  >a  \  >  gol 
me  a  post  as  keeper  in  that  menagerie.  1  had  lieen  some 
ueeks  out  of  work,  or  I  don't  know  that  I  should  have 
thought  of  oeeu]iation  of  just  that  sort.  But  I  found  the 

other  keepers  a  very  decent  set  of  men.  sir.  IVetu  >oon, 
too,  I  took  a  particular  notion  to  one  of  them.  Whistler 
\\  as  his  name.  1  le  had  all  the  charge  of  tlie  hi;;-  perform 
ing  elephant  in  the  show.  Juggernaut  they  called  him. 

"lie  was  just  a  monster, 
Squire,  and  no  mistake. 
He  was  very  near  ten  feet 
high  not  so  very  tall, 
you'll  say:  but  in  breadth 
and  development  I  never 
heard  of  his  equal.  Well, 
as  I  was  saying,  I  saw  a. 
good  deal  of  Whistler.  In 
course  of  a  month  most  all 
of  us  remarked  what  a  fan 
cy  the  elephant  had  took  to 
me.  1  could  take  the  crea- 
ture to  water,  exercise  him, 
put  him  through  all  his  acts 
when  only  the  show  folks 
happened  to  be  around, 
and  mostly  do  what  I 
pleased  with  him. 

"You  see,  Squire,  an 
elephant  may  be  willing 
enough  to  let  outsiders 
make  a  pet  of  him,  but  as 
for  obeying  one  of  them, 
that's  quite  another  thing. 
He  generally  minds  only 
his  keeper,  and  that  only 
so  long  as  he  stays  iu  the 
humor  to  do  it. 

"One  afternoon  Whis- 
tler went  off  a-pleasuring 
somewhere  up  the  Thames. 
He  missed  his  boat,  or 
the  trains,  or  something 
or  other,  coming  back. 
They  had  to  go  011  with 


the  show  without  waiting  for  him.  '  Mr.  Cults,'  says  I 
to  the  ring-manager,  'you  need  have  no  thought  about 
the  elephant.  I'll  take  him  through  the  performance.' 
Mr.  Cutts  looked  a  little  surprised,  but  he  said,  'All  right; 
go  ahead.'  And  so  I  did,  very  nicely  too.  Juggernaut 
went  through  all  his  acts  as  quiet  as  if  he'd  never  had  any 
other  trainer  except  me.  All  the  proprietors  were  quite 
delighted.  Just  while  I  was  taking  him  back  under  the 
^heils.  ill  comes  Whistler. 

"  '  You're  a  good  fellow.  Junket,'  says  he.  '  I'm  obliged 
to  you  to  death.  Toss  me  down  the  padlocks.  I'll  put 
him  up.  You  must  be  sick  of  elephant  for  once.' 

"I  ii-ufi  pretty  well  tired  out,  riot  to  mention  the  re- 
sponsibility of  really  taking  such  a  creature  through  a 
public  performance. 

"1  spoke  to  Juggernaut  accordingly,  and  he  sets  me 
on  my  feet  with  his  trunk  as  gentle  as  if  I  was  uax. 
Whistler  stepped  up.  I  handed  him  the  hook  and  the 
ke\s.  and  .said  good-night.  Just  as  I  walked  out  of 
the  shed  doors  I  heard  Whistler  cr\  out.  1  ran  hack. 
all  of  a  tremble,  too  late  to  be'  of  any  good.  l>irectly 
my  hack  was  fairly  turned,  the  elephant  had  charged 
on  \VhiMlcr,  caught  him  round  the  body,  and  thrown 
him,  like  a  hag  of  sand,  smash  against  the  further  wall 
of  the  shed.  It  would  have  made  you  sick.  Squire. 

''Back.  .1  ugirernaut  !'  I  mamcjed  to  call,  standing  al- 
most under  him.  He  stood  still  as  a  rock,  no  motion,  no 
sound,  the  moment  he  heard  me.  ( 'urions.  u  asn't  it,  sir? 
1  called  for  help.  We  got  Whistler  out.  knocked  sense- 
less  as  a  dead  man.  covered  u  ilh  blood,  anil  with  two  ribs 
broken.  It  was  just  a  miracle  he  wasn't  killed.  That 
cunninir  beast  had  quietly  waited  for  me  to  get  out  of  ear- 
shot before  In-  made  his  attack,  which,  you  observe,  was 
also  the  reason  he  \\as  so  still  about  it. 

"Whistler  lay  in  the  hospital  ten  days  before  the  sur- 
geons would  let  him  see  anybody.  I  took  his  place  in  the 
mean  time.  1  hadn't  a  particle  of  trouble  with  Jugger- 


•IIE    CAUGHT   ME    AS    IF    I    HAD    BEEN   A    MOUSE." 


70 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


naut.  Whether  he  had  had  a  fit  of  rage  or  what  not 
with  poor  Whistler,  lie  was  as  tractable  as  a  lamb  with 
me — entirely  his  old  self,  in  short.  Queer  animals,  ain't 
they  ?  Queer  and  bad  to  the  backbone,  Squire. 

"After  the  ten  days  were  over,  I  was  allowed  to  see 
Whistler  up  at  the  hospital. 

"'Junket,'  says  he,  'I've  given  up  my  place  in  the 
show  for  good.  The  Days  '11  offer  it  to  you.  Take  it. 
and  keep  it  just  as  long  as  you  dare.  Recollect  that  Jug- 
gernaut's like  any  other  elephant;  he'll  get  over  his  fancy 
for  you  some  day,  and  ivatch  his  chance  to  kill  you,  and 
only  you.' 

"Sure  enough,  when  I  got  back  to  the  show,  up  comes 
Mr.  Day  the  younger,  and  otters  me  the  care  of  the  elephant. 
Nothing  to  do  but  take  charge,  look  after  practicings  and 
trainings,  and  exhibit  Juggernaut  in  the  ring.  I  scarcely 
thought  twice  about  it  before  I  said  '  Yes'  to  Mr.  Day. 

"Juggernaut  performed  his  best  that  night;  so  he  did 
throughout  the  week,  meek  as  a  Newfoundland  dog.  I 
went  to  work  and  taught  him  two  new  acts  on  the  strength 
of  such  a  setting  out — to  grind  '  God  save  the  Queen'  on, 
a  barrel-organ,  and  point  out  the  biggest  fool  in  the  com- 
pany, which  he  did  with  his  trunk  very  cleverly,  one 
evening  excepted,  when  he  marches  up  to  a  Parliamentary 
gent  whom  the  papers  happened  to  be  making  pictures 
on.  The  gentleman  didn't  relish  it,  though  everybody 
else  laughed  and  clapped  like  mad.  Since  then  often  I've 
thought  to  myself  that  Juggernaut  ought  to  have  pointed 
out  me,  or  whoever  might  happen  to  be  an  elephant-keep- 
er at  any  time. 

"  We  ended  our  London  season  at  last,  after  which  we 
crossed  the  Channel,  and  went  into  France. 

"We  were  busy  there  all  July,  exhibiting  in  Havre, 
Paris,  Dijon,  Lyons,  and  the  dear  knows  how  many  other 
towns  besides.  Next  we  stopped  at  Geneva,  and  then 
from  Switzerland  the  proprietors  decided  to  go  down  into 
Italy.  Into  Italy  we  went,  Juggernaut  and  all.  He  be- 
haved himself  as  nicely  as  ever,  no  stubbornness,  no 
sulks — anything  I  wanted  him  to  do  done  at  once. 

"But  when  we  were  drawing  large  houses  in  Venice, 
Squire,  I  began  to  feel  and  see  trouble  on  its  way.  Twice 
I  had  to  argue  a  point  with  Juggernaut  pretty  stiffly. 
Then  he  turned  restless  and  cross  by  spells.  One  day 
I  had  to  be  moving  around  his  stall  a  good  deal  on  ac- 
count of  our  carpenters.  Says  one  of  them  to  me,  on 
leaving  in  the  afternoon,  'I  beg  the  Signor  Keeper's  par- 
don, but  I  have  remarked  a  curious  thing  while  I  have  to- 
day been  engaged  with  this  labor.' 

"  '  And  what  may  that  be  ?'  says  I,  for  I'd  come  to  flour-  | 
ish  Italian  fairly  well. 

"'I  noticed  that  wherever  the  Signor  Keeper  stands. 
whatever  he  does,  the  great  elephant  always  keeps  his 
eye  on  the  Signer  Keeper.' 

"Squire,  when  I  heard  that,  it  made  my  blood  run  cold, 
for  it's  a  certain  warning  to  any  man  who  is  employed 
about  an  elephant.  And  to  think  I  had  been  that  blind! 

"The  next  night,  the  show  being  over,  I  happened  to 
cross  the  shed  alongside  of  Juggernaut,  with  a  bouquet  of 
yellow  roses  in  my  hand.  A  lady  had  sent  them  to  me 
while  the  elephant  was  on.  He  had  been  quiet  and  tract- 
able all  day.  I  faced  him,  however,  as  I  passed  his  head. 
He  put  out  his  trunk  for  the  roses.  He  often  made  the 
motion,  of  course,  for  anything  he  fancied.  Says  I,  '  No, 
sir,  you  can't  have  these,'  and  moved  to  the  left.  He  sim- 
ply swung  round  his  head  with  a  scream.  '  Juggernaut !' 
said  I,  darting  backward.  He  caught  me  as  if  I  had  been 
a  mouse.  After  he'd  thrown  me,  I  managed  to  roll  out 
from  under  the  shed  into  the  stable-yard.  I  just  missed 
his  charge,  but  was  bleeding  from  where  I  struck,  and 
badly  bruised.  Lucky  was  it  that  I  got  off  so  quick. 

"  I  didn't  need  to  recollect  Whistler's  advice.  I  knew 
my  business,  of  course,  by  this  date.  In  the  morning  I 
saw  Mr.  Day,  and  threw  up  my  position.  All  they  said 


to  me  went  right  out  of  the  other  ear.  It  was  life  and 
death  for  me  to  be  away  from  or  with  that  elephant  an 
hour  longer.  Twenty  pounds,  twenty-five,  thirty,  forty. 
I  laughed  in  Mr.  Cutts's  face.  Finally  Mr.  Day  says  to 
me,  almost  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 

"'Mr.  Junket,  if  you'll  only  consent  to  remain  this 
week  out,  till  I  can  get  a  man  I  know  of  at  Eome,  I'll  give 
you  sixty  pounds,  the  elephant  to  perform  only  twice  in 
the  four  evenings.' 

"  '  Mr.  Day,'  says  I,  after  a  minute,  '  I'm  not  taking  my 
life  in  my  hands  for  your  money,  but  I'll  stay  till  your 
man  from  Rome  comes,  to  oblige  you  and  Mr.  Cutts.' 

"Squire,  I  wouldn't  live  that  week  over  for  sixty  thou- 
sand pounds.  Think  of  spending  hour  after  hour  of  it 
with  the  treacherousest,  cunniugest,  cruelest  monster,  sly 
as  a  snake,  and  busy  every  minute  with  watching  to  catch 
you  off  your  guard  to  kill  you.  Once  on  the  third  day 
he  sulked,  and  a  while  after  I  caught  him  designing  to 
squeeze  me  against  the  side  wall.  I  brought  in  the  under- 
keepers,  and  prodded  and  pounded  him  till  he  roared  from 
pain,  not  rage,  and  was  blood  from  end  to  end.  In  the 
evening,  in  spite  of  all  of  that,  he  disobeyed  me  twice  in  the 
performance — he  wouldn't  kneel  down  or  something.  I 
let  it  pass  until  we  left  the  ring.  Then  I  had  him  chained, 
and  burned  him  in  six  places  with  a  white-hot  hawkuss. 

"  When  I  walked  into  his  shed  the  next  morning,  I 
looked  straight  up  at  his  eyes.  'Good-morning,  Jugger- 
naut,' says  I,  quietly.  It's  an  actual  fact,  Squire,  that  the 
beast  quivered  all  over  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  then 
down  he  gets,  very  slowly,  on  his  knees." 

"I  should  think  it  very  likely  he  might,"  observed 
Squire  Buckle,  dryly. 

"On  Saturday,"  resumed  Junket,  "sure  enough,  up 
comes  the  new  keeper  from  Rome.  He  was  an  English- 
man, strandi-d  there  from  some  other  show,  he  said.  Mr. 
Day,  Mr.  Cutts,  and  I  took  him  over  to  the  sheds.  Sud- 
denly he  gives  a  start,  looks  Juggernaut  all  over  very 
sharp  and  quick,  turning  a  bit  whitish.  Then  he  says  to 
Mr.  Day :  '  Very  sorry,  sir,  but  can't  take  no  situation  here. 
1  know  this  animal.  I  was  with  him  in  Scotland  four 
years  back.  Somebody's  changed  his  name,  that's  all. 
He's  Sepoy,  that  used  to  be  with  D'Avenant  &  Co.  Se- 
poy!— I  say,  Sepoy!'  he  calls  out. 

"Well,  Squire,  it  was  actually  a  sight  to  see  Jugger- 
naut, as  we'd  called  him.  He  stood  there,  with  his  head 
up,  his  ears  out,  his  little  eyes  like  two  bits  of  hot  copper. 
Know  his  old  name?  I  should  say  so!  Likewise  his  old 
keeper.  '  Look  out, '  says  I  to  the  other  three ;  '  he's  get- 
ting up  a  nasty  temper  in  a  hurry.'  So  they  walked  off, 
and  I  quieted  Juggernaut  down,  after  a  sort,  directly.  If 
the  keeper  from  Rome  had  staid  beside  me,  I  believe  we'd 
have  had  a  murder  or  two  on  the  spot.  Juggernaut,  or 
Sepoy,  had  tried  to  kill  him  twice  before,  it  seems,  and  re- 
membered it  along  with  the  old  name.  The  Englishman 
left  for  Rome  again  an  hour  after.  As  for  me,  '  I  hate  to 
do  it,  Mr.  Day,'  says  I,  'but  I  shall  positively  leave  your 
establishment  to-night.  The  under-keepers  can  easily  feed 
Juggernaut,  likewise  manage  him  in  his  shed.  Of  course, 
in  case  of  danger,  you'll  have  to  kill  him  ;  that's  all.'  The 
gentlemen  felt  rather  put  out  about  my  going  so;  but  I 
got  my  sixty  pounds,  for  all  that. 

"  The  steamer  I  wanted  to  take  wasn't  to  sail  till  the 
Friday  following.  I  staid  in  lodgings,  and  didn't  go  near 
Day's  Imperial  Circus  and  Menagerie.  I  heard  that  there 
weren't  any  more  elephant  performances,  though.  On 
Friday  there  was  a  big  float  cabled  to  the  quay  close  by 
the  Ravenna  steamer  when  I  got  down  to  it.  Likewise 
was  there  a  terrible  big  crowd,  and  a  landing-bridge  from 
the  float  to  the  quay. 

"  '  What's  up  ?'  asked  I  of  somebody. 

"  'English  elephant,' '  English  elephant, '  says  every  one, 
very  civilly.  '  They  are  going  to  send  the  great  elephant 
from  the  circus  of  the  Signer  Day  over  to  Trieste.' 


DECEMBER  5,  18S2. 


HAEPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


71 


"  'One  ljas  told  me  that  lie  lias  nearly  killed  a  man  yes- 
terday.' puts  in  another  Italian. 

"  '  The  city  authorities  have  ohligecl  his  leaving  Venice 
to-day,'  says  a  third. 

"' Oho!' thinks  I  to  myself ;  '  I  see,  I  see.  Sorry  for  Mr. 
Day  and  Mr.  Cutts ;  but  I  suppose  they've  had  to  give  up. 
What  could  they  do  '.  I'll  stop  a  minute,  and  see  the  fun 
a  bit.  as  well  as  get  my  last  look  at  Mr.  Juggernaut.' 

"  The  crowd  kept  thickening.  All  of  a  sudden  we  heard 
shouts  up  the  quay.  Sure  enough,  in  a  minute  along  conies 
Juggernaut,  big  as  ever,  four  keepers  conducting  him,  Mr. 
Day  and  his  brother  walking  a  few  yards  back,  Mr.  Cutts 
and  Brightwater,  the  lion-tamer,  to  the  left.  Everybody 
quit  chattering  as  the  elephant  came  on.  First  lie  tried  the 
bridge  with  his  foot,  then  he  trumpeted  and  backed.  Plen- 
ty strong  the  bridge  was,  but  he  didn't  fancy  it.  Twice 
more  they  got  him  up  to  it ;  but  cross  it  to  the  float?  No,  sir ! 
They  coaxed  and  petted  and  scolded  and  prodded  him. 

"Now  from  where  I  stood  I  couldn't  but  remark  that 
every  one  of  the  four  keepers  seemed  afraid  to  deatli  of 
the  elephant.  At  length  I  took  note  of  another  thing. 
he  was  losing  his  temper  badly.  Presently  Mr.  Cutts  had 
occasion  to  pass  close  before  him  with  a  rope.  I  trem- 
bled, for  I  saw  the  beast  turn  his  big  head  angrily.  I 
couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  'Take  care  there!'  I  called 
out,  stepping  foolishly  just  forward  of  the  edge  of  the 
crowd.  'Look  out,  Mr.  Cutts!  Thompson,  you  fasten 
that  rope  quick,  and  let  him  see  you  do  it!'  Before  I  had 
got  the  words  said,  Juggernaut  wheeled  square  around, 
catching  my  voice  as  plainly  as  if  I'd  spoken  sitting  on  his 
back.  Then  he  raised  his  trunk,  waved  it.  and  screamed. 
So  did  all  the  women.  For  the  next  second  he  snapped 
his  hobbles  like  tow,  and  turned  full  upon  us  — meaning 
upon  me.  Squire,  for  he  saw  me  like  a  flash.  Hadn't  I 
been  a  precious  fool  to  open  my  mouth  '. 

"Everybody  shrieked  at  once,  and  began  running  for  dear 
life.  We  all  ran,  in  fact.  Some  of  the  folks  rushed  into 
doorways  and  alleys;  some  ran  into  side  streets;  dozens 
leaped  plump  into  the  canal.  I  saw  one  woman  with  a 
silk  petticoat  and  a  red  umbrella,  and  another  with  two 
bottles  of  wine,  drop  the  bottles  and  the  umbrella  togeth- 
er, and  jump  into  the  water,  go  down  over  their  heads, 
swim  like  ducks,  and  land  on  a  church  steps  opposite  as 
wet  as  drowned  rats.  I  swam  stroke  for  stroke  with  'cm. 

"  We  three  sat  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  on  those  steps. 
Squire,  getting  breath.  When  we  got  it,  to  save  our  lives 
again  we  couldn't  help  laughing  at  the  state  we  were  in. 

"  '  Beg  pardon,  ladies,'  says  I,  '  but  you  do  beat  all.  This 
appears  to  be  a  kind  of  regatta.' 

"Just  then  there  was  a  great  discharge  of  muskets  down 
toward  the  quay — then  another.  After  that  we  heard  nu  ire 
shouting  than  ever.  We  got  quite  worked  up  to  know 
how  things  were  going. 

' '  Here  goes,  ladies !'  says  I ;  '  I'm  bound  to  see  what's 
become  of  my  masters  and  the  elephant.' 

"Plump  into  the  canal  I  went;  and,  Squire,  if  those  two 
Italian  signoras  didn't  just  bounce  in  after  me  as  pluck}' 
as  a  brace  of  water-spaniels!  I  suppose  they  thought  once 
_wet,  the  mischief  was  done;  and  women  always  wants  to 
know  what's  going  on  as  soon  as  they  can.  Everybody 
was  running  toward  the  quay  now,  laughing  and  shout- 
ing. We  could  see  soldiers  moving  up  and  down  beyond 
the  square.  When  we  came  out  011  the  quay,  there  lay 
Juggernaut,  all  of  a  heap,  dead  as  a  door-nail.  It  seems 
the  Mayor,  or  whatever  they  call  him  there,  had  private- 
ly stationed  two  detachments  of  the  military  back  of  the 
custom  -  house  wall,  and  across  a  canal.  Juggernaut 
charged  straight  up  the  quay,  and  then  stood  still  a  second 
or  two.  They  fired  three  rounds  before  he  went  down. 

"I  didn't  see  Mr.  Day,  or  Mr.  Cutts,  or  any  of  the  men- 
agerie people  after  I'd  heard  they  all  got  off  without  inju- 
ry— though  Mr.  Cutts  had  a  very  narrow  escape,  I  under- 
stood. Of  course  the  crowd's  scattering  saved  the  folks' 


lives  by  confusing  Juggernaut,  particularly  since  he'd  had 
me  in  his  head  from  the  first  plunge.  If  I'd  only  held  my 
tongue  as  to  Mr.  Cutts  and  that  rope ! 

"  I  got  to  Ravenna  safely  in  due  time.  Then  I  went  up 
to  Florence,  and  came  on  here,  Squire;  and  so — 

Junket  paused.  Squire  Buckle  completed  the  story  by 
saying  quietly:  "And  so.  Junket,  you  can  send  your  box 
upstairs,  and  go  up  after  it,  and  take  that  red  neckerchief 
off.  Then  you  can  go  to  work  with  Miles,  and  groom 
Lady  Laura.  I  want  the  elephants — the  horses,  I  mean — • 
at  eleven  o'clock,  sharp,  to  drive  over  for  Mrs.  Buckle." 


THE  SPECTRES  OF  THE  LIGHT-HOUSE. 

BY  ARTHUR  LINDSLEY. 

SOME  years  ago — more  years  than  you  young  people  can 
remember — I  found  myself,  at  the  close  of  a  beautiful 
day  in  autumn, 

"On  Wamponomon's  far  ending, 
Beyond  Neapeague's  still  sheltering  bay." 

Now  you  will  ask,  "Where  is  that  ?  There  is  no  such 
place  on  any  map  I  ever  saw."  Sure  enough,  and  yet  the 
place  itself  is  there,  and  it  is  not  so  very  far  away  either. 
Wamponomoii — with  the  accent  on  the  second  syllable — 
is  the  Indian  name  for  the  extreme  eastern  end  of  Long 
Island,  MontaukPoint;  and  Neapeague — pronounced  Nap- 
peag — is  the  quiet  harbor  nine  miles  west  of  it.  An  abrupt 
cliff  of  clay  and  sand  and  rocks  a  hundred  feet  in  height 
forms  the  terminus  of  the  island ;  this  cliff  is  Wampono- 
moii, and,  standing  on  it.  the  ocean  surrounds  you,  ex- 
cept on  the  west,  from  whence  you  have  come.  All  is 
water,  only  that  east  of  you,  twelve  miles  away. 

"  .Munis-rs  ill   her  dim  and  distant  lair," 

rises  out  of  the  sea,  and  if  you  ask  its  name  you  are  told 
that  it  is  Block  Island. 

Tin'  sun  was  just  setting  as  I  came  to  the  end  of  my 
day's  wandering.  I  did  not  even  go  up  to  the  light-house 
1)1  uft'  to  look  out,  but  betook  myself  at  once  to  the  dwell- 
ing of  Mr.  Hobart,  the  light-house-keeper, 'in  a  sheltered 
valley  close  at  hand.  Though  not  professing  to  keep  a 
hotel,  it  was  the  custom  of  the  family  to  entertain  such 
guests  as  came  to  the  Point,  and  I  forthwith  found  myself 
comfortably  "at  home." 

In  due  season  a  bountiful  supper  was  smoking  on  the 
table.  At  one  end  was  a  noble  blue-fish,  just  caught  in 
the  surf  by  Ben  Hobart,  the  oldest  son,  while  at  the.  other 
end  were  two  roast  ducks — a  black-duck  and  a  widgeon. 
To  the  two  birds  I  paid  at  first  little  attention,  for  there  is 
no  better  eating  in  the  world  than  a  Montauk  blue-fish 
fresh  from  the  surf.  But  presently  Mr.  Hobart  remarked, 
"Perhaps  you  do  not  know  how  it  is  that  we  get  our  ducks 
down  here  on  Montauk." 

"  Ben  shoots  well,  does  he  ?"  said  I. 

"  Oh  yes,  Ben  can  hit  the  side  of  a  barn,  but  that  is  not 
it.  We  save  all  our  ammunition.  Suicide,  sir — suicide." 

Here  the  boys  burst  out  with  a  hearty  laugh  at  their 
father's  fun  and  my  look  of  astonishment. 

"Arsenic,"  said  I,  "or  drowning,  or  pistol  ?" 

"No,"  said  he,  "no;  that  is  not  the  way — nothing  of 
the  sort.  It  is  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  in  the  wrong  di- 
rection. They  are  the  victims  of  misplaced  curiosity,  kill- 
ed at  the  expense  of  the  United  States  government,  too." 

"All  that  may  be  very  true ;  but  will  you  be  kind  enough 
to  put  it  into  English,  and  tell  me  what  you  mean  ?" 

"I  will  not  tell  you ;  but  as  you  have  finished  your  sup- 
per, I  will  show  you  just  how  it  is  done;  that  is,  if  you  do 
not  mind  climbing  upstairs  for  a  hundred  feet  or  so." 

And  away  we  went,  out  of  the.  house  and  up  the  hill  to 
the  light-house.  You  know  that  the  object  of  a  light-house 
is  to  give  such  a  bright  light  at  night  that  sailors  near  the 
coast  may  see  the  light  at  a  great  distance,  and  so  be  able 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•WE    SAVE    ALL   OUR   AMMUNITION.     SUICIDE,  SIR-SUICIDE.'" 


to  find  their  way  into  the  harbors  or  other  places  where 
they  wish  to  go.  Iii  order  to  do  this,  very  large  lamps 
are  placed  near  each  other  on  a  frame,  arranged  in  a 
circle,  so  that  they  may  be  seen  in  every  direction.  And 
to  help  them  give  out  the  most  brilliant  light  possible, 
bright  reflectors  are  placed  behind  them,  arid  as  they  are 
now  made,  lenses  are  put  in  front  of  the  lamps.  But  when 
I  was  at  Montauk  that  improvement  had  not  been  intro- 
duced, and  there  were  only  reflectors  as  you  see  them  in 
this  drawing.  I  ought  also  to  tell  you  that  in  some  light- 
houses the  frame  with  its  lamps  is  kept  turning  by  means 
of  machinery,  so  as  to  give  what  is  called  a  flash  light, 
that  is,  a  light  appearing  and  disappearing  at  intervals,  so 
that  sailors  may  distinguish  one  from  another. 

Mr.  Hobart  and  I  climbed  up  the  dark,  narrow  stairs  of 
the  light-house,  until  suddenly  we  opened  the  door  into 
the  "lantern."  This  was  a  room  about  eight  feet  in  diam- 
eter, all  brilliant  with  the  flame  of  the  huge  lamps.  At 
first  I  was  dazed  and  bewildered  with  the  intense  light,  and 
could  really  see  nothing.  But  this  soon  passed  away,  and 
I  was  able  to  tell  what  was  about  me. 

The  strange  room  and  its  singular  machinery  would 
have  engaged  my  attention  had  it  not  been  that  I  imme- 
diately became  so  interested  in  what  was  going  on  outside 
that  I  could  think  of  nothing  else.  Of  course  the  sides  of 
the  room  were  formed  entirely  of  glass,  so  as  to  let  the  light 
shine  out  clearly,  and  I  looked  in  every  direction"  into  the 
black  night.  But  what  was  most  wonderful  to  see — it  was 
not  black — was  a  perfect  swarm  of  moving  objects  close 
before  me.  They  were  darting  in  every  direction,  and  in 
the  glaring  blaze  of  the  lamps,  with  their  reflectors,  they 
all  seemed  to  me  white,  or  nearly  so. 

I  gazed  in  astonishment,  and  it  was  many  seconds  before 
I  could  realize  what  it  was  I  saw,  or  could  form  in  my 


mind  a  true  picture  of  the  scene.  They  were  birds,  and 
only  birds!  Can  you  believe  it  ?  All  my  darting  objects, 
flashing  and  glancing  so  beautifully,  and  sometimes  strik- 
ing so  violently,  were  birds  of  many  species,  hovering 
about  the  brilliant  light,  and  attracted  by  it  just  precisely 
as  you  may  have  often  seen  flies  and  moths  and  other  in- 
sects gather  about  a  lamp  or  candle  in  the  evening.  Every 
now  and  then  I  could  not  only  see  but  hear  one  of  them 
strike  against  the  strong  plate-glass  of  which  the  windows 
were  formed,  and  one  of  those  which  struck  in  that  man- 
ner did  it  with  such  force  as  to  be  stunned  by  the  blow, 
and  I  saw  it  drop  down  as  though  dead. 

The  drawing  which  you  see  here  represents  the  scene  as 
I  saw  it,  but  it  represents  it  imperfectly.  The  birds  are 
not  shown  as  thickly  as  they  really  were,  because  if  they 
had  been  you  could  not  have  seen  the  lamps  at  all;  it 
would  have  been  only  a  picture  of  a  mass  of  birds.  Mr. 
Hobart  told  me  that  I  was  very  fortunate  in  finding  them 
so  abundant;  some  nights  I  might  have  found  only  a  very 
few.  He  said  that  the  glass  plates  of  the  windows  were 
made  very  thick  and  strong  that  they  might  not  be  bro- 
ken by  the  birds  in  striking  against  them,  and  even  with  all 
their  strength  he  had  known  them  dashed  through  by 
birds  as  heavy  as  some  of  the  large  ducks  or  geese. 

There  were  but  few  mornings  at  that  season  of  the  year 
when  one  or  more  dead  birds  could  not  be  picked  up  at  the 
base  of  the  lig-ht-house,  having  killed  themselves — "com- 
mitted suicide" — during  the  night. 

Sure  enough  the  next  morning  I  myself  found  three 
birds  there  dead ;  one  was  a  yellow-legged  tatler,  one  a 
splendid  tern,  and  one  a  ruddy  duck. 

This  beautiful  drawing  shows  you  only  a  simple  truth 
of  what  occurs  all  along  our  coast  at  the  season  when  tho 
birds  are  migrating. 


DECEMBER  5,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


73 


,.-, 


•   _»fl  •'  -"-'^f^^J      -hj' 

,.;-•.-::    ^  :^^ 


m. 


"EL  ATt  Y>  ru'Xt>, 


FOOT-BALL.— [SEE  NEXT  PAGE.] 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  LITTLE  PHILOSOPHER. 

BY   MRS.  MARGARET    SANGSTER. 

THE  days  are  short  and  the  nijrhts  arc  long. 

And  the  wind  is  nipping  cold; 
The  tasks  are  hard  and  the  sums  are  wrong. 
And  the  teachers  often  scold. 
But  Johnny  McCree, 
Oh,  what  cares  he. 
As  lie  whistles  along  the  way? 
"It  will  all  come  right 
By  to-morrow  night." 
Says  Johnny  McCree  to-day. 

The  plums  are  few  and  the  cake  is  plain, 

The  shoes  are  out  at  the  toe; 
For  money  you  look  in  the  purse  in  vain — 
It  was  all  spent  long  ago. 

But  Johnny  McCree, 
Oh,  what  cares  he, 
As  he  whistles  along  the  street? 
Would  you  have  the  blues 
For  a  pair  of  shoes 
While  you  have  a  pair  of  feet? 

The  snow  is  deep,  there  are  paths  to  break, 

But  the  little  arm  is  strong, 
And  work  is  play  if  you'll  only  take 
Your  work  with  a  bit  of  song. 
And  Johnny  McCree, 
Oh,  what  cares  he, 
As  he  whistles  along  the  road? 
He  will  do  his  best, 
And  will  leave  the  rest 
To  the  care  of  his  Father,  God. 

The  mother's  face  it  is  often  sad, 
She  scarce  knows  what  to  do; 
But  at  Johnny's  kiss  she  is  bright  and  glad — 
She  loves  him,  and  wouldn't  you? 
For  Johnny  McCree, 
Oh.  what  cares  he, 
As  he  whistles  along  the  way? 
The  trouble  will  go, 
And  "I  told  you  so," 
Our  brave  little  John  will  say. 


FOOT-BALL  FACTS  AND  FANCIES. 

BY  SHERWOOD  RYSE. 

A  LTHOUGH  foot-ball  is  not  the  national  game,  the 
_Ti  amount  of  interest  taken  in  it  is  almost  enough  to 
entitle  it  to  be  so  considered.  Most  of  the  boys  who  read 
this  paper,  and  many  of  the  girls  too,  who  have  brothers 
at  scliool  and  college,  know  that  there  is  one  great  event 
in  the  year  which  overshadows  all  others.  That  is  the 
annual  foot-ball  match  between  Yale  and  Princeton. 

There  are  four  colleges  which  play  in  the  intercollegiate 
matches,  namely,  Harvard,  Yale,  Columbia,  and  Princeton, 
and  they  play  under  rules  which  differ  from  all  other  rules. 
Returning  from  a  match  in  company  with  a  distinguished 
member  of  the  Columbia  Eleven,  I  asked  my  companion 
if  a u i/body  knew  all  the  rules  of  foot-ball,  and  he  replied 
that  he  did  not  believe  anybody  did.  This  looks  as  if  the 
game  were  one  requiring  deep  study,  and  at  first  thought 
a  stranger  to  the  game  might  wonder  at  its  being  so  popu- 
lar in  schools  and  colleges,  where  study  is  not  always  re- 
garded with  the  highest  favor.  But  if  we  could  take  this 
stranger  to  see  some  first-class  match,  wedge  him  in  among 
the  crowd  of  excited  boys  looking  on,  and  let  him  have  a 
taste  of  the  enthusiasm  of  the  hour,  it  is  very  certain  that 
he  would  change  his  mind  about  the  studious  character  of 
the  game. 

My  Columbia  companion  was  probably  right  when  he 
said  that  nobody  knew  all  the  rules.  They  change  so  oft- 
en— being,  in  fact,  even  now  only  in  course  of  making — 
that  it  is  hard  work  to  keep  up  with  them.  But  what  of 
that?  A  few  games  will  teach  you  more  than  several 
hours'  study  of  the  rules.  For  instance,  what  rule  had 
that  big  fellow  in  mind  when,  catching  the  ball  as  it  was 
passed  back  to  him,  he  made  that  splendid  run  through 
the  whole  opposing  team,  dodging  this  man,  rolling  that 
one  over  by  simply  holding  out  his  hand,  and  finally 


touching  the  ball  down  behind  the  very  centre  of  the  goal  ? 
This  gave  him  a  "try  at  goal,"  and,  as  everybody  knows, 
it  is  by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  kick  the  ball  between 
the  goal  posts  when  the  whole  of  the  opposing  side  starts 
for  the  ball  as  soon  as  it  is  placed  on  the  ground.  And  so 
the  goal  was  not  won,  though  it  looked  very  much  as  if  it 
had  been  from  where  we  wTere  standing.  In  such  cases, 
however,  the  decision  of  the  referee  is  final. 

This  poor  referee  is  a  very  hard-worked  and  much- 
abused  person.  He  seems  to  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
and  anxiety,  and  none  of  the  fun.  He  may  wear  his  good 
clothes,  and  even  a  "beaver"  hat,  if  he  wishes,  and  he  may 
carry  a  cane,  and  as  it  appears  to  an  outsider  he  enjoys 
every  advantage  for  seeing  the  game.  But  he  knows  that 
the  justice  of  every  decision  depends  upon  the  closeness 
with  which  he  watches  every  movement  of  the  players, 
and  he  is  very  anxious  to  be  a  just  judge. 

There  are  some  games  that  seem  to  delight  in  making 
players  lose  their  tempers.  Foot-ball  is  one  of  those 
games,  croquet  is  another,  and  shinny  is  another.  All 
sorts  of  provoking  things  are  always  being  done.  It  is 
very  annoying,  for  instance,  to  have  a  big  fellow,  weigh- 
ing twenty  pounds  more  than  you  do,  make  a  spring  at 
your  neck,  and  clasp  it  in  such  a  loving  embrace  that  you 
both  fall  heavily  to  the  ground,  with  a  deep  grunt  as  the 
breath  is  forced  out  of  your  body.  You  may  feel,  if  you 
are  a  young  player,  that  he  might  have  used  a  little  less 
violence ;  but  when  you  think  it  over  after  the  match,  ask 
yourself  whether  you  would  have  stopped  unless  you  were 
actually  compelled  to.  If  you  are  a  boy  of  pluck,  you 
will  answer.  No.  And  then  ask  yourself  if  you  would  not 
have  tackled  your  opponent  with  all  your  might  if  you  had 
been  in  his  place,  and  you  will  answer,  Yes. 

In  truth,  it  does  not  pay  to  lose  your  temper.  With 
your  temper  you  lose  your  head — that  is,  your  cool  judg- 
ment— and  any  good  foot-ball  player  will  tell  you  that  the 
man  who  plays  with  his  head  as  well  as  his  body  and 
limbs  is  a  better  man  than  he  who  trusts  to  weiglit  and 
muscle  entirely.  Every  movement  in  the  game  is  of  con- 
sequence, and  an  error  of  judgment  will  often  lose  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  whole  length  of  the  ground. 

Foot-ball  is  not,  and  does  not  pretend  to  be,  a  babyish 
game.  It  is  a  true  manly  sport,  and  the  boy  who  wants 
to  be  a  player  must  put  his  whole  heart  into  it. 

Of  course  there  is  some  danger  in  it,  but  so  there  is  in 
base-ball,  in  skating,  in  riding,  and  in  most  of  the  manly 
sports.  A  boy  who  is  afraid  to  face  such  dangers  as  meet 
him  in  his  play  will  fare  badly  when  he  is  called  upon  to 
face  the  dangers  that  active  life  in  later  years  will  bring. 
Fortunately  few  boys  in  good  health  know  what  fear  is 
upon  the  field  when  the  enthusiasm  of  the  game  is  at  its 
height. 

In  the  intercollegiate  game,  which  is  founded  upon  the 
Rugby  game  so  delightfully  described  in  Tom  Broicn's 
School  Days,  when  a  player  has  the  ball  he  may  either 
run  with  it  or  "pass  it  back'1  to  another  of  his  own  side. 
It  is  not  always  easy  to  tell  which  it  is  best  to  do,  and 
there  is  no  time  for  doubt;  but  whatever  you  do,  do  it 
from  the  right  motive;  that  is,  for  the  advantage  of  your 
side.  The  wrong  motive  is  to  do  what  you  feel  is  not  the 
best  tiling  to  be  done,  because  you  want  to  keep  the  ball 
to  yourself.  It  very  often  happens  that  some  other  play- 
er on  your  side  will  have  a  better  chance  to  get  through 
with  the  ball  than  you  have;  he  may  be  less  thickly  sur- 
rounded, or  he  maybe  a  faster,  or  more  "dodgy"  runner. 
In  that  case  you  should  toss  the  ball  quickly  to  him,  and 
give  up  your  own  chance  to  make  a  brilliant  rush. 

Running  with  the  ball,  when  near  the  opponents'  goal, 
is  very  enticing.  It  is  by  all  means  the  most  showy  part 
of  the  game,  and  when  well  done  it  is  sure  to  call  forth 
cheers  from  the  spectators.  Then  there  is  a  delightful 
feeling  of  power  and  success  in  a  well-executed  run  that 
makes  up  ten  times  over  for  the  fall  that  is  sure  to  follow. 


DECEMBER  5.  1SS2. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


75 


In  foot-ball,  as  in  some  other  sports,  there  is  an  immense 
amount  of  satisfaction  in  playing  the  match  over  again  in 
words.  What  brilliant  feats  we  could  perform  had  we 
only  that  chance  again  !  How  we  could  have  dodged  that 
big  Smith,  or  with  what  ease  we  could  have  gone  through 
the  whole  team  if  we  had  not  slipped  on  a  miserable  bit  of 
muddy  ground!  If  we  had  only  put  into  -practice  that 
trick  that  Brown,  of  Princeton,  has  of  warding  off  his  as- 
sailants with  the  one  hand,  while  safely  guarding  the  ball 
with  the  other. 

Ah,  those  "  ifs"  and  "buts"!  They  are  always  in  the 
way  in  real  play,  but  in  "  fighting  one's  battles  o'er  again" 
they  are  easily  passed  over.  The  runs  that  have  been 
made,  the  flyers  that  have  been  tackled  and  thrown,  the 
goals  that  have  been  kicked  in  imagination,  some  day  they 
will  be  realized  perhaps  In  the  mean  time  it  will  do  no 
harm  to  think  them  over,  and  plan  what  might  be  done 
should  the  opportunity  occur.  Some  day  the  games  play- 
ed in  imagination  will  come  to  mind  at  a  critical  moment, 
and  you  will  find  yourself  doing  what  you  have  often 
thought  you  would. do,  and  hardly  know  at  first  why  you 
did  it.  Enthusiasm  is  a  splendid  thing.  Time  will  come 
when  sterner  duties  will  be  required  of  yon,  and  if  you  can 
bring  to  them  the  same  enthusiasm,  courage,  and  loyalty 
that  animated  you  in  your  games,  the  lesson  of  the  foot- 
ball field  will  last  a  lifetime. 


NAN.* 


I!V   MliS.  .lOIIV   LILLIE, 
AUTHOR  OF  " MILDRED'S  BAHRAIN."  "  Arxr  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MAY  16,  isn't  it,  Mrs.  Heriot  .'" 
Nan  was  standing  in  the  window  of  the  black- 
walnut  parlor,  looking  out  upon  the  wet  lawn  and  gardens, 
while  Mrs.  Heriot  was  engaged  in  putting  away  some  fine 
china  in  one  of  the  cupboards. 

"May  16,  in  all  its  particulars,  sure  enough,"  rejoined 
Mrs.  Heriot.  "You're  here  just  two  weeks  to-day." 

Nan  gave  a  little  sigh. 

"Well,  it  seems  longer,"  she  said,  turning  around. 
"Mrs.  Heriot,  when  will  my  cousins  be  here,  do  you 
think  ?" 

"Oh,  in  half  an  hour,  I  should  say." 

"Will  they  mind  the  wet  ;" 

Mrs.  Heriot  laughed. 

"Not  they — I  wish  they  did;  for  they're  only  too  like- 
ly to  come  tramping  up  my  floors  with  their  muddy 
boots." 

"But  aren't  they  afraid  of  Aunt  Letitia  i"  exclaimed 
Nan,  inwardly  delighted  by  the  idea  of  cousins  who  were 
fearless. 

"Not  one  bit — now,"  said  Mrs.  Heriot,  turning  around 
to  examine  a  delicate  bit  of  porcelain  more  carefully  in 
the  light.  "  You'll  have  to  keep  them  out  of  mischief  the 
whole  time.  If  Lance  were  home  he  would  see  to  them — 
though  he's  no  quiet  lamb  himself — but  Dicksie  and  Joan 
would  bring  the  house  about  one's  ears  if  they  were  let." 

"Are  they  the  twins?" 

Mrs.  Heriot  nodded. 

Nan  returned  to  her  window,  eagerly  watching  the  bit 
of  the  street  which  just  below  the  lawn  she  could  see  quite 
plainly. 

As  Mrs.  Heriot  had  said,  she  had  been  two  weeks  at  Rolf 
House,  and  in  that  time  she  had  learned  so  much  of  its 
ways  that  she  felt  as  if  her  stay  had  been  much  longer. 
She  had  lessons  every  morning  from  a  young  lady  in 
whom  Nan  could  not  feel  much  interested,  she  was  so 
prim  and  quiet,  and  apparently  so  very  learned,  and  Miss 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HAKPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPLE. 


Rolf  examined  her  every  evening.  Between  whiles,  she 
spent  much  of  her  time  with  Mrs.  Heriot,  learning  to  sew 
and  to  do  worsted-work;  and  regularly  every  afternoon 
she  went  for  a  walk  or  a  drive  with  her  aunt.  These 
occasions  were  Nan's  only  periods  of  real  enjoyment,  for 
they  usually  went  into  the  town  either  to  shop  or  visit 
some  poor  person,  and  once  or  twice  Cousin  Phyllis  had 
been  with  them.  At  seven  o'clock  Nan  took  tea  with 
Miss  Rolf,  after  which  they  would  sit  an  hour  or  so  in  the 
drawing-room  or  black-walnut  parlor,  where  sometimes 
Nan  read  aloud  to  her  aunt,  and  sometimes  her  aunt  talk- 
ed over  the  lessons  Miss  Prior  had  given  her  for  the  next 
day.  Miss  Rolf  was  always  kind  in  her  manner,  but  very, 
very  cold  and  reserved,  yet  to  Nan  there  was  something 
very  wonderful  about  the  beautifully  dressed,  stately  figure 
of  her  aunt.  She  longed  sometimes  to  draw  nearer  to  her. 
When  she  received  the  chilly  good-night  kiss  which  dis- 
missed her  for  bed,  she  had  often  been  tempted  to  fling 
her  arms  about  her  aunt's  neck  and  hug  her  wildly;  but 
she  was  always  glad  afterward  to  have  restrained  such  an 
impulse,  for  what  u-ould  Miss  Rolf  have  thought  of  her  ? 
Impetuous  little  Nan  shuddered  sometimes  to  think. 

But  now  a  diversion  was  expected.  Her  cousins  from 
College  Street  had  all  been  invited  to  spend  the  afternoon 
and  take  tea,  and  Nan  had  been  dressed  and  waiting  for 
half  an  hour.  Miss  Rolf  was  out  for  the  day,  but  Mrs. 
Heriot  had  received  full  instructions  as  to  what  they  could 
and  could  not  do,  and  the  old  lady  would  he  home  for  the 
usual  seven-o'clock  tea,  they  might  be  certain. 

"There!"  cried  Nan.  darting  a  look  round  at  Mrs.  Her- 
iot— "there  they  arc!" 

"Deai1!  dear!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Heriot,  coming  forward 
with  a  cup  and  the  duster  in  her  hand.  "Yes;  sure  enough 
— there  they  are." 

What  Nan,  pressing  her  face  eagerly  against  the  win- 
dow-pane, beheld  was  a  curious,  rollicking  procession  of 
young  people  coming  up  the  hilly  street.  Evidently  the 
twins  first — a  tall,  lank  little  girl,  with  black  hair  and 
dark  eyes,  and  a  boy  nearly  her  counterpart  in  size  and 
coloring,  were  amusing  themselves  by  jumpihg  over  all  the 
puddles,  while  behind  walked  or  ran  two  younger  boys 
and  a  girl  of  fourteen,  everything  being  on  the  hop,  skip, 
and  jump  with  one  and  all ;  but  could  the  tall,  graceful 
liguiv  in  the  water-proof  be  Cousin  Phyllis  ?  Nan  could 
scarcely  believe  the  evidences  of  her  own  eyes:  yet  it  was 
certainly  she — there  could  be  no  doubt  of  this;  but  why 
should  she,  of  all  people,  allow  such  pranks? 

I  must  say  that  the  pranks  delighted  Nan.  She  grinned 
broadly  from  within  her  window,  and  the  tribe  of  cousins 
saw  her,  and  executed  various  little  antics,  before  they 
reached  the  door,  in  merry  response.  Only  the  girl  of 
about  fourteen,  walking  near  to  Phyllis,  offered  her  no 
such  salute.  Nan  decided  that  she  looked  haughty,  and 
perhaps  disagreeable. 

By  the  time  they  had  reached  the  door,  some  degree  of 
quiet  seemed  to  have  reached  them,  though  as  they  poured 
into  the  hall  they  were  all  panting  from  the  variety  of  ex- 
ercises in  which  they  had  been  indulging. 

"Dear  me,  Miss  Phyllis!"  said  Mrs.  Heriot,  who  had 
hurried  out  into  the  hall,  "you  must  be  quite  wet.  Do 
let  me  have  your  things." 

Phyllis  submitted  gracefully  to  have  them  taken  from 
her. 

"And  the  children — perhaps,"  faltered  Mrs.  Heriot,  "I 
might  take  them  right  out  into  the  kitchen  to  dry  a  mo- 
ment." 

The  tribe  showed  signs  of  joy  at  this  suggestion ;  but 
they  also  looked  eagerly  at  the  new  cousin  standing  half- 
sliyly  in  the  parlor  door. 

And  then  that  involuntary  look  and  air  of  sweet  uncon- 
sciousness came  over  little  Nan. 

"Oh,  may  I  come  too?"  she  said;  and  before  any  one 
could  say  how  it  was  done,  she  was  in  the  midst  of  the 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"BERTIE,   MUCH    THE    WORSE    FOR   NUTS,   APPEARED." 


cousins,  who  were  looking  at  her  and  talking  to  her  all  in 
a  quick,  excited  way — all  except  Laura,  who  had  drawn 
back  close  to  where  Phyllis  sat  on  one  of  the  hall  chairs. 

Nan  looked  up  shyly  toward  her.  She  was  very  pretty 
— fairer  and  daintier  than  Cousin  Phyllis,  but  how  differ- 
ent from  the  latter's  smiling  glance  was  her  frown,  and 
the  half  pout  which  spoiled  the  curve  of  her  pretty  mouth ! 

"Oh,  do  come!"  cried  Joan,  the  tallest  of  the  twins. 
"  Oh,  Mrs.  Heriot — Phyllis — can't  we  go  at  once  ?" 

It  seemed  as  if  neither  of  the  two  appealed  to  had  any  idea 
of  resistance.  Phyllis,  divested  of  her  wet  garments, 
sauntered  toward  the  parlor,  closely  followed  by  Laura, 
while  the  rest  trooped  after  Mrs.  Heriot  to  the  kitchen. 

The  kitchen  at  Rolf  House  was  down-stairs,  and  was  a 
place  which  had  already  fascinated  Nan,  it  was  so  large 
and  bright  and  home-like.  Susan,  the  cook,  though  a 
trifle  cross,  was  a  very  interesting  person,  capable  of  tell- 
ing long  stories,  and  supplying  young  people  with  good 
things  out  of  tin  boxes  in  her  corner  cupboards.  There 
were  high  windows  in  this  kitchen,  and  to  the  left  were 
the  pantry  and  dairy-room.  Susan  had  under  her  a  young 
girl  named  Martha,  with  whom  Nan  longed  secretly  to 
make  friends.  When  the  cousins  trooped  down  into  the 
kitchen  Martha  was  kneading  bread,  and  Susan  was  prepar- 
ing some  cheese. 

In  a  few  moments  they  were  all  sitting  about  the  fire,  in 
spite  of  Susan's  exclamations  and  Mrs.  Heriot's  air  of  dread 
as  to  what  might  happen,  and  very  soon  a  liberal  supply 
of  doughnuts  and  cookies  was  dispensed.  Then  Joan  ex- 
claimed :  ' '  Mrs.  Heriot — please — we  want  to  go  to  the  attic. 
May  we  ?" 

Mrs.  Heriot  began  to  look  dubious,  and  Nan  said, 
"What's  in  the  attic?" 

"Oh, "said  Dick,  eagerly,  ''it's  the  jolliest  old  place  to 
play  in !  You'll  like  it  ever  so  much .  Mayn't  we  ?" 

"If  you'll  behave  yourselves,"  said  Mrs.  Heriot,  as 
gravely  as  possible.  "Now  mind,  Dicksie  boy,  no  tan- 
taran  turns." 

Whatever  they  were,  Dicksie  readily  agreed  to  give 
way  to  none,  and  as  soon  as  their  wet  feet  were  dry, 
the  young  Rolfs  from  College  Street  were  on  their  way 


to  a  part  of  the  house  Nan  had  never 
seen. 

Meanwhile  Joan  had  tight  hold  of  Nan's 
brown  little  hand.  She  had  already  whis- 
pered to  her,  "Nan,  I  love  you, "and  Nan 
had  responded  by  a  fervent  hug,  which, 
although  it  nearly  stifled  Joan,  had  seem- 
ed to  produce  a  complete  understanding 
between  them. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  attic  at  Rolf  House  was  a  large, 
irregular  place,  lighted  by  queer  little 
windows,  and  which  extended  over  the 
entire  house.  There  were  some  bins  in 
it,  partially  covered  with  nuts,  and  sever- 
al old  trunks,  some  broken  pieces  of  .fur- 
niture, and  a  locked  chest  of  drawers. 
A  swing  had  been  hung  from  one  of  the 
beams,  and  Bertie  and  Alfred,  the  young- 
er boys,  had  left  their  carpentering  tools 
in  one  of  the  many  irregular  corners. 

"  Did  you  never  come  up  here?"  asked 
Joan  of  Nan,  as  they  arrived  at  the  last 
step  of  the  attic  stairs.  Joan  had  a  thin 
little  face,  and  a  queer  way  of  puckering 
up  her  lips  after  she  said  anything.  She 
looked,  as  Nan  expressed  it  to  herself, 
"  ready  for  anything." 

"No,"  said'Nan.  "You  see,  I've  just 
gone  wherever  I  was  told  to. " 

"  Oh !"  exclaimed  Dick,  in  tones  either  of  dismay  or  dis- 
appointment. "Are  you  ilntf  kind  of  a  girl  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Nan,  trying  to  laugh.  "See 
here,  won't  you  tell  me  all  your  names  and  ages,  and  ev- 
erything?" 

Joan's  eyes  twinkled.  "Oh,  wait,  Nan,"  she  said. 
"  It  '11  be  such  fun  if  you  don't  know.  Now  please,  we'll 
make  a  game  of  it:  see  here."  For  a  moment  the  boys 
seemed  rebellious,  but  Joan  quelled  them  by  a  look. 
"See, -Nan,  you  sit  down  there." 

Nan,  quite  willing  to  be  amused,  especially  by  Joan,  sat 
down  in  an  old  arm-chair,  while  her  spirited  cousin  had 
in  a  moment  whisked  all  the  others  into  the  bins.  She 
then  went  over  to  one  side  of  the  attic,  where  there  was 
a  tall,  rather  tattered  screen,  which  she  dragged  across, 
placing  it  at  an  appropriate  distance  between  Nan  and  the 
young  people  who  were  skirmishing  around  in  the  bins. 
Over  this  she  hung  some  newspapers,  saying  meanwhile, 
"  We've  often  played  at  theatricals  this  way." 

"Is  it  to  be  theatricals  ?"  inquired  Nan,  from  her  place 
as  audience. 

"Not  quite,"  responded  Joan,  shaking  her  elf-locks. 
"  Because,  you  see,  it  will  be  all  true." 

She  then  retired  behind  the  screen,  and  held  various 
half-audible  conversations  with  the  children  hi  the  bins. 
Nan  could  hear  Alfred  complaining  that  the  nuts  hurt  his 
knees,  and  Dick  inquiring  if  he  could  say  some  poetry 
when  he  came  out;  but  Joan  evidently  governed  them  all 
satisfactorily,  for  in  a  short  time  there  was  silence.  Then 
came  the  sound  of  a  singular  kind  of  music.  It  seemed 
to  be  produced  by  Joan  "murmuring"  through  closed 
teeth,  and  as  it  had  no  particular  tune,  or  idea  of  any,  it 
was,  in  an  attic,  rather  melancholy;  but  at  last  there 
emerged  from  behind  the  screen  a  figure  wrapped  in  an 
old  red  curtain  Nan  had  seen  in  a  corner,  and  Joan's 
voice  said,  "Ricardo  Rolfo  —  appear!"  And  with  some 
scrambling  Dicksie  came  out,  standing  very  still. 

"This  boy,"  said  Joan,  in  a  sepulchral  tone,  "is  Mr. 
Walter  Rolf's  second  son.  He  is  nearly  thirteen.  He  at- 
tends the  high  school,  and  has  taken  three  prizes.  He 
has  the  honor  of  being  Joan  Rolf's  twin  brother,  al- 


DECEMBER  5,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


77 


though,  alas !  he  causes  her  more  pain  than  joy.      He  will 
recite." 

Whereupon  Dicksie  began,  in  a  tragic  tone: 

"  And  this  to  me  lie  said : 
And  'twere  not   for  thy  hoary  lieard, 
The  hand  of  Richard  had  not  spared 
To  cleave  the  Jean's  head." 

He  made  a  dab  toward  Joan  as  he  said  this,  and  Nan  in- 
terposed : 

"  Oh.  I  know  that.  It's  out  of  '  Marmion' ;  but  it  really 
says.  'Tin-  hand  of  Marmion  had  not  spared  to  cleave  the 
J  'iHiu'las'  head."  " 

''  Oh,  well,  I  know,  Nan,"  said  Joan's  voice  from  inside 
ber  wrappings.  "But  you  needn't  be  so  particular;  we 
say  lots  of  pieces  like  that,  and  put  our  own  names  in. 
Now,"  she  added,  in  an  altered  voice,  "Kicardo,  retire. 
Next!"  And  Alfred's  curly  little  head  appeared. 

"  This,"  said  Joan,  "is  Alfred,  so-called  the  Great,  as  his 
appetite  never  fails.  He  is  nearly  eleven.  He  is  most 
proficient  in  standing  upon  his  head.  Alfred — heads!" 

Whereupon  Alfred's  head  suddenly  took  the  place  of 
his  heels,  the  latter  dangling  an  instant  in  the  air  before 
Joan  suddenly  slapped  them  downward,  and  he  retired 
very  purple  and  rather  annoyed. 

"Next !"  Joan  exclaimed.  And  Bertie,  much  the  worse 
for  nuts,  appeared.  Bertie  had  Phyllis's  soft  eyes  and 
gentle  look,  with  Joan's  dark  hair.  Nan  felt  at  once, 
"He's  a  darling,"  and  all  the  time  Joan  spoke  he  kept 
trying  to  hide  a  dear  little  dimpling  smile. 

"This  young  person,"  said  Joan,  in  a  most  terrible 
voice,  "fears  neither  parent  nor  sister.  He  is  aged  in 
years  seven.  Yet  he  is  old  in  wickedness,  such  as  running 
away,  tearing  his  clothes,  losing  his  school-books,  anil  fin- 
getting  his  lessons.  However,  people  try  to  love  him." 
and  here  Joan,  in  spite  of  her  wraps  and  her  character  of 
oracle,  made  a  sort  of  jump  toward  him  which  ended  in  a 
squeeze — "and  he  does  know  how  to  sing.  Sing!" 


Upon  this  Bertie  began  and  sang  quite  through  a  pretty 
little  childish  song,  in  a  voice  like  that  of  a  thrush.  Nan 
thought  she  could  cry  over  it;  but  Joan  quickly  hustled 
him  away,  and  throwing  off  her  disguise,  said  in  a  \ cry 
ordinary  although  fatigued  voice: 

"Wasn't  that  fun,  Nan?  Now  I  think  you  ought  to 
talk  about  yourself." 

Nan  crimsoned. remembering  Phvllis's  words  of  warning 

«  O  ' 

yet  in  the  child's  heart  a  sense  of  honesty  arose  which  grew 
larger  than  everything  else.  She  said,  trying  to  laugh  : 

"It  was  real  fun;  how  well  you  did  it,  Joan!  Well, 
I'll  tell  you.  Yon  know  I  am  the  daughter  of  Aunt  Let- 
ty's  nephew,  but  I've  been  living  for  some  time  with  very 
poor,  common  kind  of  people,  you  would  say — with  my 
step-aunt  and  uncle  Rupert.  They  keep  a  butter  and 
cheese  shop  in  Bromfield,  Connecticut." 

A  dismayed  group  clustered  for  a  moment  about  her. 

"  But  you  are  our  cousin,"  exclaimed  Joan. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Nan,  holding  her  head  up  very  high, 
"and  you  are  no  relation  of  the  Ruperts  at  all." 

There  was  silence  for  an  instant.  Then  Joan  said,  puck- 
ering up  her  nose  scornfully,  "Oh,  well,  where's  the  dif- 
ference "'.  Don't  let's  bother  about  it  anyhow."  And  with 
her  usual  energy  she  proceeded  to  think  of  another  game. 

"  If  Laura  only  chose  to  do  it,"  she  said,  looking  around 
the  big,  fast-darkening  attic,  "she  could  tell  us  a  lovely 
story." 

"  Oh,  do  get  her  to  do  it,"  cried  Nan.  "  Shall  I  go  for 
her  ?" 

Joan  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "Yes,"  very 
impressively. 

Nan,  under  the  influence  of  young  companionship, 
had  lost  all  sense  of  timidity  in  the  large,  silent  house. 
She  darted  down  the  attic  stairs  quickly,  and  along  the 
upper  corridors,  and  down  to  the  parlor  where  Laura 
and  Phyllis  were  seated. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


A    MAGNIFICENT   FEAST. 


78 


HATIPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

I  HOPE  the  readers  of  the  Post-office  Box  will 
enjoy  it  this  week  as  much  as  J  have  while 
taking  the  first  peep  at  the  letters  and  little  sto- 
ries which  fill  its  columns.  You  will  enjoy  the 
history  of  Tatters,  sent  by  his  master,  who  is  a 
very  youth  fill  correspondent.  Two  or  three  hints 
for  Christmas  presents  will  be  found  timely  and 
useful,  and  nobody  will  omit  the  monthly  report 
of  Young  People's  Cot. 


MARSEILLES,  FRANCE. 

I  have  taken  your  nice  paper  ever  since  the  first 
number,  but  this  is  the  first  letter  I  have  ever 
written  to  you.  I  am  a  little  American  girl,  but 
have  been  living  in  France  for  one  year.  France 
is  a  beautiful  country,  and  there  are  many  beau- 
tiful and  wonderful  things  to  see  here,  although 
I  love  my  own  home  and  country  the  best,  and  I 
hope  that  before  many  months  more  pass  we 
shall  be  in  America. 

\Ve  have  just  had  a  lovely  journey.  We  have 
travelled  through  England,  Switzerland,  Ger- 
many, Holland,  Belgium,  and  France.  I  can  not 
tell  you  in  this  letter  the  many  things  we  sa\v. 
I  will  just  say  that  among  the  many  beautiful 
places  we  visited  one  was  the  Queen's  palace. 
We  visited  many  handsome  rooms,  and  then  saw 
the  stables,  the  horses  and  carriages,  the  rid- 
ing school,  and  many  other  things.  We  saw  the 
Queen's  favorite  horse,  the  one  she  rides  ou.  He 
was  a  hand.some  horse,  jet  black  all  over.  Then 
there  was  a  little  pony  which  the  Prince  of  Wales's 
children  ride.  We  saw  tin1  little  baby  carriage 
in  which  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  Queen's 
•other  children  used  to  ride. 

Nearly  all  the  children  who  write  to  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE tell  about  their  pets.  Well,  I  can  not,  because 
I  have  none.  But  last  winter  I  had  a  little  monkey, 
and  I  think  it  is  the  best  pet  any  one  can  have. 
He  kept  us  laughing  all  the  time,  he  did  so  many 
funny  tricks.  We  lived  in  the  country  then,  and 
he  could  run  about  in  the  garden,  but  now  we 
have  moved  in  to  the  city,  and  I  had  to  sell  him 

We  are  going  to  spend  the  coming  winter  in 
Nice.  I  expect  to  have  fun  at  Carnival-time. 
From  Nice  we  are  going  to  Italy,  and  then  back 
to  France. 

I  go  to  school  here  with  little  French  girls,  and 
have  very  nice  times,  but  still  I  would  rather  be 
in  Hudson.  Wisconsin,  going  to  school  with  all 
my  little  friends.  I  think  the  story  of  the  "  Cruise 
of  the  Canoe  Club"  is  splendid.  I  am  thirteen 
years  old.  GRACE  T. 


OCONOMOWOC. 

I  live  near  Lake  La  Belle,  and  I  have  a  gray  cat 
and  one  chicken  for  my  pels,  and  my  sister  Anna 
has  a  nice  large  dog  we  call  Cap.  I  go  to  school, 
and  will  be  seven  years  old  in  January.  I  love 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much. 

PUILAZANIA. 

TATTERS'S  STORY. 

We  were  waiting  for  a  little  dog.  And  one 
•day  a  little  girl  came  over  to  our  house,  and  said, 
"  We  have  a  little  dog  for  you."  So  I  went  over 
to  her  house,  and  there  I  saw  my  brother  sitting 
down  with  a  little  dog  on  his  lap.  It  was  about 
a  half  a  foot  long.  He  was  a  quarter  of  a  foot 
high  ;  his  tail  was  a  quarter  of  a  foot  long.  His 
face  was  very  funny.  His  ears  lopped  over.  And 
he  would  sit  up  in  the  corner  and  beg  for  a  piece 
of  meat.  And  he  would  bark  very  funnily,  when 
I  would  take  him  up  and  kiss  him.  One  day  I 
came  home,  and  I  met  a  little  girl,  and  she  said. 
"Fanny  was  crying."  1  went  into  the  house,  and 
Fanny  said  Tatters  was  dead.  He  would  always 
come  up  on  the  bed  and  play,  for  we  loved  him 
dearly.  He  died  in  a  fit.  He" was  always  glad  to 
see  you.  He  would  frisk  about  you.  He  would 
play  very  funnily.  And  in  two  or  three  days  we 


buried  him  in  a  box.  We  had  a  girl  come  over 
to  our  house  and  make  some  wreaths.  They  were 
madeofdaisiesand buttercups.  There wereabout 
twenty  over  to  the  grave.  And  atterit  we  want- 
ed to  see  Tatters.  WILLIE  W.  H. 

CAMBRIDGE,  .MASSACHUSETTS. 


Carrie  and  Gracie  and  Baby  May 

Were  down  in  the  barn-yard  busy  at  play; 

Said  Carrie  to  Gracie. 

"  Let's  have  some  fun, 

And  frighten  old  Jack, 

And  then  we  will  run." 

"All  right."  said  Grace, 

"If  he  won't  tell." 

O  hush  !  O  hark !  there's  the  dinner  bell. 

But  as  they  ate  their  dinner 

Carrie  didn't  feel  quite  right, 

For  she  was  not  very  happy, 

Though  stie  wasn't  cross  a  mite. 

This  bit  of  rhyme  came  to  me  from  a  clever 
Boston  girlie,  who  forgot  to  sign  her  name.  Do 
you  know,  dear,  your  poetry  is  a  little  obscure ; 
that  is.  we  don't  understand  whether  Jack  was 
a  horse,  a  dog.  or  a  man,  nor  do  you  tell  us  why 
draeie  did  not  enjoy  her  dinner.  Please  send 
another  verse  and  explain,  and  tell  me  who  you 
are. 


CANOVA,  MICHIGAN. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  of  age,  and  have 
taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  lor  nearly  three  years,  and 
like  it  so  well  that  1  do  not  know  how  our  assem- 
bled family  would  get  along  without  it,  for  not 
only  the  young  but  the  middle-aged  and  old  peo- 
ple read  it,  alt  hough  we  ta.ke  the  MONTHLY,  U  EEK- 
LY,  and  BAZAH.  1  have  only  one  little  sister,  lour 
years  old.  We  live  on  a  tarm  of  SOU  acres,  and 
our  house  is  in  a  torty-acre  grove  of  maple-trees. 
\Ve  have  a  great  many  pets,  among  others  thir- 
teen cats,  which  are  all  mighty  hunters,  and  bring 
home  their  game,  such  as  squirrels  and  chip- 
munks. One  of  them,  named  Oliver  Twist,  once 
had  a  light  with  a  woodchuck.  ZELDA  S.  C.  P. 


For  tanning  with  the  hair  on,  the  skin  should 
first  be  cleaned,  every  particle  of  loose  tat  or 
flesh  being  removed,  and  the  useless  parts  cut 
away.  Wuen  this  is  done,  it  should  be  soaked 
for  ari  hour  or  two  in  warm  water.  The  follow- 
ing mixture  should  then  be  prepared  :  Take  equal 
parts  of  borax,  saltpetre,  and  sulphate  of  soda, 
and  with  them  mix  water  sufficient  to  produce 
the  consistency  of  thin  batter. 

This  preparation  should  be  painted  thickly  on 
the  flesh  side  of  the  skin  ;  alter  which  these  sides 
should  be  doubled  together,  and  the  pelt  lelt  in 
an  airy  place. 

A  second  mixture  should  next  be  prepared. 
This  should  consist  of  two  parts  sal  soua  ;  three 
parts  Uorax;  four  parts  Castile  or  otherhardsoap: 
all  to  be  melted  together  over  a  slow  tire.  At 
the  end  of  twenty-lour  hours  alter  the  applica- 
tion of  the  first  mixture,  the  second  should  be 
applied  in  a  similar  manner,  and  the  fur  again 
folded  and  left  tor  the  same  length  of  tune. 
Next,  make  a  mixture  of  equal  pans  of  salt  and 
alum,  dissolved  in  warm  water,  and  thickened 
with  coarse  flour  to  the  consistency  ot  thin  paste. 
Spread  this  thickly  over  the  skin  and  allow  it  to 
dry,  after  which  it  should  be  scraped  oft  with  the 
bowl  of  a  spoon.  The  skin  should  be  tightly 
stretched  during  the  operation  in  order  to  pre- 
vent too  great  shrinkage.  A  single  application  of 
the  last-named  dressing  is  generally  sufficient  for 
small  sKins  ;  but  a  second  or  third  treatment  may 
be  resorted  to  it  required,  to  make  the  skin  soft 
and  pliable,  after  which  it  should  be  finished  off 
with  sand-paper  and  pumice-stone.  A  skiu  may 
be  thus  dressed  as  soit  as  velvet,  and  the  alum 
and  salt  will  set  the  hair  securely. 

To  remove  the  fur  for  a  simple  tanned  skin  the 
hide  should  be  immersed  in  a  liquid  composed  of 
soft  water,  five  gallons  ;  slaked  lime,  four  quarts ; 
and  wood  ashes,  four  quarts.  Allow  the  skin  to 
soak  for  a  couple  of  days,  after  which  the  fur 
will  readily  slip  off. 

PHILADELPHIA,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  read  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE  about  Christmas  plans 
for  toys.  I  have  a  very  good  plan.  It  is  to  make 
a  cheap  clock  for  about  twenty-live  cents.  First 
you  get  a  sheet  of  stout  mill-board,  such  as  is 
used  by  bookbinders.  This  will  cost  you  from 
six  to  ten  cents.  Get  size  S7  by  22  inches.  Draw 
two  lines  the  longest  way  equally  distant  from 
tin-  edge  and  each  other.  This  divides  it  into 
three  parts  of  the  same  size.  Now  from  the  top 
measure  off  ten  inches  for  the  face,  and  then  with 
your  knife  partly  cut  the  board  through  the  rest 
nt  the  lines  helnw  the  face. and  bend  them  back 
and  glue  together  by  put  ting  a  strip  of  cloth  over 
the  edges  where  they  meet.  Mark  out  the  face  of 


the  clock,  and  make  a  hole  for  the  hands.  Qo 
to  a  tinman  and  get  a  funnel-shaped  spout,  which 
you  must  glue  on  the  bottom.  Then  make  a  spool 
like  a  cone,  with  a  point  on  one  end,  and  eight 
inches  across  on  the  other:  wind  a  string  on  tins 
cone,  commencing  on  the  large  end  and  winding 
down,  just  as  you  would  a  top  ;  tie  to  the  eud  a 
conical  ink-bottle  filled  with  sand.  Make  wooden 
hands,  and  put  them  on  the  face.  Then  fill  your 
box,  now  made,  with  sand,  and  when  it  is  hung 
up  the  sand  will  run  out  slowly  at  the  bottom, 
and  as  the  sand  goes  out  the  weights  lower  and 
turn  the  wheel  which  makes  the  hands  go  around. 
How  fast  it  will  run  will  depend  upon  the  size  of 
the  hole  at  the  bottom.  You  can  paint  it,  and 
make  it  quite  an  ornament  and  curiosity  in  your 
house.  JOSEPH  A.  B. 


WKSTPOUT,  NEW  YORK. 

Westport  is  on  Lake  Champlain.  It  has  a  large 
harbor,  five  miles  across  the  mouth,  a  very  pret- 
ty place.  In  one  day  you  can  drive  to  the  heart 
of  the  Adirondacks.  There  are  deer  here,  and  a 
few  bears  have  been  seen.  I  go  limiting  a  great 
deal.  I  live  four  miles  from  Westport  by  land 
and  three  by  water.  I  have  lots  of  fun  on  the 
ice  in  winter,  fishing  through  the  ice.  and  skal  ing. 
1  expect  to  have  more  fun  than  ever  this  winter, 
because  I  have  a  skate  sail.  I  ride  horseback, 
row  on  the  lake,  and  take  long  walks.  I  am  learn- 
ing to  play  the  guitar.  I  took  two  or  three  les- 
sons from  a  teacher,  and  am  now  teaching  my- 
self, and  like  it  very  much.  Well,  it  is  bed-time 
now.  GEORGE  K.  c. 


CLEVELAND,  OHIO. 

I  want  to  tell  you  how  mamma  once  went  slid- 
ing on  the  ice  when  she  was  about  six  years  old. 
She  lived  in  the  country,  and  had  two  dogs  for 
playmates.  One  day  she  wanted  to  slide,  and 
everybody  was  busy,  so  they  could  not  pull  her. 
So  she  took  the  dogs  down  to  the  pond,  got  down 
on  the  ice,  took  a  piece  of  ice  and  threw  it  across 
the  pond,  and  caught  hold  of  the  dogs'  tails,  one 
in  each  hand.  Away  they  went  after  the  ice,  and 
drew  her  across  the  pond.  She  kept  that  up  for 
some  time,  till  at  last  she  looked  up  to  see  if  any 
one  was  near,  and  saw  some  people  at  the  win- 
dows ;  company  had  come,  and  were  watching 
her.  I  hope  this  letter  is  not  too  long  to  print. 
CORA  G.  (8  years  old.) 

That  was  a  very  funny  way  to  slide  on  the  ice. 
I  wonder  the  dogs  allowed  it. 


HASTINGS,  MINNESOTA. 

I  like  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  I 
like  the  story  of  "Nan."  I  have  no  pets  now, 
but  used  to  have  a  cat  and  two  black  kittens. 
The  kittens  were  very  playful,  and  tore  down 
some  of  mamma's  vines,  so  at  last  she  put  them 
in  a  bag,  and  had  a  man  take  them  otf  and  lose 
them.  I  felt  very  sorry  indeed. 

L.  A.  LEIGH  A. 


CANTON,  ILLINOIB. 

This  is  the  first  letter  I  have  ever  written  to 
you.  I  have  no  pets  to  tell  you  about,  but  I  will 
tell  about  my  uncle's  blackberry  patch.  It  was 
a  great  sight  to  see  the  berries  when  they  were 
ripe.  One  day  they  had  180  pickers  there,  but 
the  average  was  10U.  It  was  fun  to  see  the  ber- 
ries go  off  in  the  wagon  to  be  shipped.  It  took 
two  days  to  go  over  the  whole  patch  once.  The 
average  in  bushels  was  170  a  day.  I  picked  there, 
and  in  the  spring  1  picked  strawberries  for  papa, 
and  earned  money  enough  to  send  for  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  had  some  left.  That  little 
girl  who  wanted  to  know  what  she  could  do  to 
earn  money  might  pick  berries  in  the  summer  if 
there  was  any  patch  near.  I  have  a  lit!  le  brother 
Sherman,  and  two  sisters,  named  Edith  anil  Elsie. 
It  is  getting  dusk  now.  so  1  will  close.  Good-by. 

HELENA  B, 

JOHNSTOWN,  PENNSYI  VANTA. 

I  have  been  taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  two  years 
and  a  half.  I  had  two  fan-tail  pigeons,  and  one 
of  them  died,  and  I  have  only  one  now.  I  have 
a  dog  (his  name  is  Spunk),  and  we  have  a  colored 
man.  Sam.  and  when  he  gets  the  paper  to  read 
spunk  jumps  up  on  hislap,  and  takes  off  his  specs, 
and  runs  off  with  them.  I  am  nine  years  old. 

JOHN  B.  L. 


LOUISVILLE,  KENTUCKY. 

I  have  just  received  a  letter  from  my  papa.  He 
sends  this  story,  and  it  is  true.  I  am  a  little  girl 
seven  years  old.  I  can  not  write ;  mamma  writes 
for  me.  I  have  only  two  pets— a  beautiful  wax 
d<>ll  named  Evelyn  Pearl,  and  a  china  doll  named 
Helen.  Please  print  this  letter,  because  it  is  the 
first  I  ever  sent  you.  And  please  print  the  story 
too,  because  my  papa  says  it  is  true.  Good-night; 
I  must  go  to  bed.  JULIET  NOLD  P. 

ClIATTANOOfiA.  TENNESSKK. 

My  DEAR  CHICKABIDDIES. — 1  met  a  man  the  oth- 
er night  who  told  me  some  funny  stories  about  a 
bear.  Some  years  ago  there  was  a  Fort  AlcPher- 
son  out  in  the  West,  where  this  man  was  living, 
and  there  he  saw  the  bear.  The  bear  was  a  cin- 
namon bear,  and  his  name  was  George.  He  had 
been  captured  by  some  hunter  when  he  was  a 
small  bear — called  a  cub — and  taken  to  the  fort, 
where  he  grew  up,  becoming  a  great  pet  with 


DECEMBER  5,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


79 


the  officers,  soldiers,  and  other  people  who  lived 
there.  Now  the  man  I  met  was  Keeping  a  sort  of 
a  store  a  mile  or  so  away  from  the  fort,  on  the 
railroad-  The  post-office  was  in  his  store,  ami 
the  man  from  the  fort  who  carried  the  mail  used 
sometimes  to  bring  George  along  for  company. 
One  day  George  found  some  molasses  on  the 
floor,  and  he  was  very  much  surprised,  because 
it  was  something  he  did  not  know  anything 
about.  After  looking  and  smelling,  be  carefully 
dipped  a  claw  in  and  put  it  up  to  his  nose ;  then 
he  tasted  it.  which  pleased  him  so  much  that  he 
kept  on  tasting  until  the  molasses  was  all  gone. 

My  acquaintance  was  one  day  having  an  after- 
dinner  nap,  when  he  was  suddenly  waked  up.and 
saw  a  bear  standing  on  bis  hind-legs  by  him.  lie 
drew  a  pistol,  but  the  bear  was  frightened  almost 
to  death,  and  showed  it  so  plainly  that  the  man 
did  not  fire  at  him.  Before  long  he  recognized 
George,  the  pet  bear  from  the  fort.  He  took  a 
plate,  drew  some  molasses,  and  placed  it  on  the 
floor  where  George  could  see  it.  Curiosity  led 
George  to  smell  the  plate,  and  he  knew  what  it 
was.  Then  he  began  curious  antics:  he  ran 
around  and  around  the  plate ;  he  lay  down  and 
put  l.is  paw  around  it  ;  he  played  with  it  a  long 
time;  then  was  a  long  time  eating  it  up.  Tliis 
was  the  beginning  of  a  long  acquaintance  with 
George,  for  be  used  To  sometimes  leave  the  fort 
by  himself,  swim  the  Platte  River,  and  trot  across 
the  prairies  to  the  store,  and  stay  around  until 
he  was  given  some  molasses,  or  candy,  or  sugar. 

One  day  my  informant  entered  the  fort  i>y  a 
gate  he  seldom  went  in  by.  and  he  was  horrified 
to  sec  George  sitting  up  nursing  a  baby  in  bis 
arms  while  the  baby's  mother  was  washing 
clothes  near  by.  The  moment  George  saw  him 
he  laid  the  baby  down  as  carefully  as  possible, 
and  ran  up  to  my  friend,  as  glad  to  see  him  MS 
possible.  The  woman  said  George  very  "Mi u 
nursed  the  baby  for  hours  at  a  time. 

Now  is  not  that  a  good  story:-  And  it  is  all 
true. too. 

J  am  in  hopes  you  have  all  been  well  since  I  left 
home.  Be  good,  and  do  not  give  mamma  any 
trouble.  With  much  love  to  all,  I  am 

Your  affectionate  father.        ALFRED  1'. 

It  is  not  often  that  we  read  a  more  charming 
letter  than  the  one  whieb  little  Juliet  so  kindly 
allows  us  to  print,  and  whieh  came  from  her  ab- 
sent papa.  I  am  sure  the  boys  and  girls  will  be 
in  love  with  the  good-natured  bear.  Hut  proba- 
bly none  of  us  would  like  to  trust  our  baby  in  his 
care,  lest  he  might  hug  it  too  tightly  in  a  forget- 
ful moment. 

SAN  FKANCIHCO,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  have  often  wished  to  write  a  letter  to  YOUNG 
PEOPLE,  but  I  have  so  little  to  tell  that  I  fear  my 
letter  will  not  be  an  interesting  one.  I  was  sev- 
en years  old  July  12,  and  have  never  been  at 
school,  but  mamma  teaches  us  every  morning 
English,  French,  German,  and  arithmetic.  She 
also  gives  us  piano  lessons.  We  speak  the  three 
];it!urnai:es.  I  am  in  the  First  French,  the  Second 
English,  and  the  Third  German  Header.  I  have 
two  brothers.  Sandy,  who  shares  all  my  lessons 
with  me.  is  nearly  as  far  advanced  as  I.  for  we 
began  our  studies  together.  My  little  brother 
will  not  be  five  years  old  until  February,  and  can 
neither  read  nor  write,  but  he  speaks  three  lan- 
guages, of  course,  in  his  baby  style.  I  hope  my 
letter  is  not  too  long  and  tiresome.  TRUDY  II. 

This  is  a  very  pleasant  letter,  and  very  well 
written.  Now  it  is  Sandy's  turn,  and  the  Post- 
mistress will  be  looking  for  a  letter  from,  him. 


ROCKPOP.T.  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  like  the  story  of  "  Xan"  very  much.  I  would 
like  to  know  if  Jimmy  Brown  is  a  real  boy.  and  if 
his  stories  are  true.  If  really  true.  I  don't  won- 
der that  his  father  whips  him". 

I  am  collect  ing  cards,  and  have  about  four  hun- 
dred. We  have  a  large  album.  We  put  our  Christ  - 
mas  cards  in  it  too,  and  they  look  very  pretty.  I 

have  another  scrap-! k  which  is  an  old  ledger, 

into  which  1  paste  pictures  which  I  cut  from  illus- 
trated papers. 

The  baby  sister  of  whom  I  wrote  last  time1  is 
now  nearly  a  year  old.  She  can  walk  around  by 
chairs,  or  by  taking  bold  of  our  bands.  She  can 
talk  a  little.  She  says  "  mamma,"  "papa,"  "kit- 
ty," "Annie,"  and  "no."  "We  think  she  is  very 
cunning.  She  enjoys  looking  at  pictures  very 
much. 

We  have  a  darling  canary-bird  named  Cherry. 
He  is  a  Southern  bird,  and  a  very  sweet  singer. 
I  like  birds,  but  they  are  an  awful  bother.  We 
have  a  cat  which  I  do  not  like  at  all.  for  I  fairly 
detest  cats.  I  suppose  this  will  call  out  a  burst 
of  indignation  from  their  lovers;  but  I  despise 
them,  and  would  rather  play  with  anything  else 
than  a  kitten.  But  if  I  don't  like  cats.  I  love 
babies.  If  you  could  see  our  baby.  I  am  sure  you 
would  agree  with  me.  ANNIE  L.  B. 

I  like  your  idea  of  making  pretty  scrap-books. 
So  you  don't  like  poor  Puss  ! 


The  next  letter  is  from  a  girl  who  evidently 
likes  pussy  very  much  : 

BROOKLYN,  NEW  YORK. 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  our  five  eats.    The 
first  -me  i .  a  Maltese  ;  she  is  very  intelligent.    If 


we  say,  "  Faint,  Maltie,"  down  she  goes  as  though 
exhausted.  We  have  a  little  gray  cat  called  Fat. 
and  anoi  her  which  answers  to  Pinky.  These  two 
are  very  merry,  and  chase  each  other  all  aroutld 
tin'  house.  Their  mother's  name. is  Christiana. 
she  <  iften  pretends  to  fight  with  her  children,  and 
it  is  fun  to  watch  them  play  with  her.  Nigger  is 
nice,  but  cross.  If  you  make  a  fuss  over  him,  lie 
growls  at  you.  Our  last  pet  is  a  dear  black-and- 
tan  dog.  He  is  real  pretty,  but  is  something  like 
an  old  person,  for  he  has  no  lower  teeth.  1  think 
he  ought  to  go  to  the  dentist  and  have  a  set  made. 

ANITA  C. 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

I  am  generally  too  full  of  play  to  do  much  writ- 
ing. Having  seen  a  letter  in  which  we  were  ask- 
ed to  give  a  description  of  some  pretty  Christmas 
present,  I  thought  I  would  send  one.  Take  an 
empty  pepper  or  mustard  can.  Get  some  bristol 
board,  silvered:  work  upon  it  any  design  you 
choose  ;  cut  it  so  that  it  will  just  cover  tnc  can. 
and  crochet  it  at  both  ends.  At  the  open  end  of 
the  can  punch  two  small  holes. and  put  red  worst  - 
ed  through  these,  twisted,  and  finished  with  tas- 
sels. Tie  it  securely  on  the  inside.  You  will  have 
a  pretty  receiver  for  burnt  matches. 

EKROL  E.  H. 

M.  II.  II-— Why  not  call  your  archery  club  "  The_ 
Sharp-shooters"  y  There  are  many  ways  in  which" 
school-boys  may  earn  a  little  money  when  out  of 
school,  if  they  are  industrious.  If  they  live  where 
they  have  room  to  keep  hens,  they  might  sell  eggs. 
A  blue-eyed  laddie  used,  to  supply  my  table  with 
new-laid  eggs  the  winter  through,  and  glad  I  was 
to  pay  him  a  good  price  for  them.  There  are 
often  errands  to  be  done,  little  bits  of  repairing 
about  a  place,  and  odd  jobs  which  are  waiting 
l<>r  a  haihly  boy  who  has  nimble  feet,  ready 
bands,  and  bright  eyes,  and  who  can  be  trusted. 
Remember  if  you  wish  to  earn  money,  you  must 
not  be  afraid  of  work,  but  take  anything  honest 
which  comes  in  your  way,  and  you  must  be 
prompt  in  keeping  your  engagements.  If  you 
say  you  will  lie  at  a  eertain  place  at  ;i  given  hour, 
be  there.  "Mhul  the  sheep,  and  you  will  have 
the  sheep."  was  the  advice  given  by  his  grandfa- 
ther to  the  little  boy  Jonathan  Sturges.  Jona- 
than obeyed,  and  became  a  great  merchant.  A 
boy  who  is  at  school  must  not,  in  his  desire  to 
earn  money,  neglect  his  lessons.  That  would  be 
wrong.  When  studying  faithfully,  he  is  learning 
things  which  will  make  him  useful  by-and-by. 
Nor  should  a  boy  go  into  any  little  business  on 
his  own  account,  such  as  working  for  other  peo- 
ple, selling  papers  or  other  things,  unless  his  fa- 
ther and  mother  are  perfectly  willing  to  let  him 
do  so. 

A  PRETTY  PRESENT  FOR  LITTLE  GIRLS. — Take  a 
huge  quantity  of  soft  bright  worsted,  and  wind 
it  into  a  ball.  As  you  go  on,  hide  in  the  worsted 
a  silver  thimble,  a  needle-ease,  a  gold  pencil,  a 
tiny  pair  of  scissors,  a  pearl-handled  knife,  a  pair 
of  gloves — anything  or  everything  you  choose. 
When  you  present  the  ball  to  your  little  friend, 
insert  two  shining  knitting-needles  in  it,  and  ask 
her  to  use  them.  As  she  knits  she  will  come  upon 
the  \arious  surprises, and  so  the  pleasure  of  the 
little  Christmas  gift  will  not  be  gone  for  days, 
unless  she  is  a  very  rapid  and  diligent  knitter. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  COT. 

Contributions  received  for  Young  People's  lot , 
in  Holy  Innocent's  Ward.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal for  Children.  407  West  Thirty-fourth  Street : 

Mite-chest  offering.  New  York,$l  70  ;  Winthrop 
II.  Chenery.Belmont,  Mass.,  $2;  "Twilight,"  Sen- 
eca, Kan.,  $1 :  Andrew  Thornton,  Seneca,  Kan., 
$1  ;  Lulu  Wright,  Keokuk.  Iowa,  $1 ;  Alice  M.  H., 
Hope,  K.  I  ,  Title.  ;  "  rntinished,"  40c. ;  In  Memo- 
riam,  November  1,  $10;  Hetty  Lewis.  Waseca, 
Minn..  $1 :  Helen  Clarke.  Minont.  HI.,  $1 ;  Harrie 
G.  Sanford,  Morrisonville,  $1;  J.  and  H.  Corey, 
Stowbridge,  Mass.,  50c. ;  Eben  B.  Mills,  Geddes, 
N.  Y.,  SOc. ;  total,  S22  46.  Amount  previously  ac- 
knowledged, $1505  40 ;  grand  total,  November  15, 
$1577  86. 
E.  AUGUSTA  FANSHAWE,  Treasurer.  43  New  St. 


MORRISONVILLE. 

Inclosed  please  find  one  dollar  for  Young  Peo- 
ple's Cot,  which  is  sent  by  a  little  girl  nine  years 
old.  She  worked  for  her  mamma,  and  fully  earn- 
ed every  cent  of  it.  She  has  taken  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the  first,  and  has  every  copy. 
Her  name  is  Harrie  G.  Sanford. 


WASECA,  MINNESOTA. 

I  thought  I  would  write  you  a  letter,  as  I  have 
not  seen  any  from  this  place.  I  can  hardly  wait 
for  HARPER'S  Youxi;  PEOPLE  to  come.  I  like  the 
letters  best  of  all.  My  papa  gave  me  two  dollars 


for  my  birthday  present ;  I  am  nine  years  old.  I 
want  to  give  this  money  to  the  poor  little  sick 
children  in  Young  People's  Cot.  HETTY  LEWIS. 


GKI>T>KS,  NKW  YORK. 

I  have  read  about  the  children's  Cot  in  HAR- 
PER'S YofNt;  PEOPLE,  in  No.  158.  Inclosed  you  will 
find  thirty  cents,  which  I  have  earned  myself  by 

Eicking  up  apples  and  selling  them.     1  want  to 
ear  from  you  very  soon  about  the  Cot. 

EBEN  B.  MILLS. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

N...  1. 
GEOGRAPHICAL   HOUR-GLASS. 

1.  A  bay  on  the  southwestern  coast  of  Mexico 
3.  A  city  in  Texas.  3.  A  city  in  Belgium.  4.  A 
cape  on  the  southern  coast  of  Florida.  5.  A  riv- 
er in  Russia.  6.  A  consonant.  7.  A  river  in  Eng- 
land. 8.  A  country  in  Asia.  9.  A  sea  on  the  east- 
ern coast  of  Asia.  10.  A  lake  in  Central  America. 
11.  A  city  in  Norway.  Centrals  spell  the  name  of 
a  city  in  .Massachusetts.  LADY  BETTY. 


ACROSTIC. 

The  initial  letters  of  the  words  spelled  down- 
ward form  the  name  of  an  ancient  Greek  general. 

1.  An  isle  in  the  Pacific. 

2.  A  Western  Territory  of  the  United  States. 

3.  A  river  in  Hnssia. 

4.  A  river  in  Kngland. 

!i.  A  Western  Slate  of  the  Union. 

6.  A  continent. 

7-  An  Haste  rn  State  of  the  Union. 

s.  A  great  maritime  power. 

9.  A  river  in  France.  ALFRED  K. 


ENIGMA. 

My  first  is  in  David,  but  not  in  Ned. 

My  sei 1  is  in  William,  but  not  in  Fred. 

My  third  is  in  wagon,  but  not  in  truck. 
My  fourth  is  in  daring,  but  not  in  pluck. 
My  fifth  is  in  white,  but  not  in  snow. 
My  sixth  is  in  lily,  but  not  in  grow. 
My  seventh  is  in  island,  but  not  in  sea. 
My  eighth  is  in  rover,  but  not  in  bee. 
My  ninth  is  in  cardinal,  but  not  in  pope. 
My  whole  is  a  flower  the  spring  will  ope. 

H.  D.  W. 

No.  4. 

TWO   DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  Coy.  3.  Gayety.  4.  Consent. 
5.  A  letter.  V.  I.  O'l.lN. 

8.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  Consumed.  3.  A  household 
utensil.  4.  Twilight.  5.  A  letter.  AUBEHY. 


No.  5. 

TWO  SQUARES. 

1.— 1.  A  title.  2.  An  affirmation.  3.  To  repair. 
4.  Conclusions.  YOUIENK. 

2.— 1.  An  outlet.  2.  A  monster.  3.  Globes.  4. 
Repose.  V.  I.  O'LiN. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  159. 

No.  1.  In  the  month  of  May  a  lady  named  Victoria 
nnd  a  gentleman  named  Henry  went  to 
Home  i  roam)  in  the  Hoorfs.  They  walked 
until  noon,  when  the  lady  opened  a  satch- 
el made  of  Mi'iun-o.  It  contained  a  fried 
P'lrjnm,  some  fine  old  Madeira.  anda'S'ant/- 
tetclt  f'i  >r  each.  As  it  had  been  rainy,  and 
the  air  was  rather  Chili  (chilly),  they 
wanted  to  return,  but  the  Mini  lost  a 
cuff  button  made  of  xitnr  and  orna- 
mented with  Pttit'f.  While  they  were  on 
the  IjMiknut  they  met  a  JVcr/ro  who  said 
he  thought  Xniituckel  (Nan  took  it),  men- 
tioning a  colored  woman. 

No.  2.  Elephant.  Hippopotamus.  Zebra.  Whale. 
Rabbit. 

No.  3.  .Carp-et.    Her-ring.    Ten-ch.    S-had. 

No.  4.  T>  omet  T 

O  nych  A 
Y  erd  I 
E  ineri  L 


No.  5. 


A 

A  T 
A  M  0 
ATOM 


B  C 

BE  CO 

BAA  CAP 

BEAK  COPE 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Alf  Kaufman,  Nannie  Hull,  Jessie  P..  Frank 
P.  Bowen,  Alice  Wade.  Jennie  R.,  Willie  Young, 
"  W.  II.  Eat,"  Bessie  and  Blanche  Niven.  Charles 
H .  Weigle.  O.  Hecker,  Robin  Dyke,  Helen  W.  Gard- 
ner. Frank  Martin.  Lottie  Lee.  John  Oassidy, 
Archie  D..  Donald  Me  Adam.  Elsie  Y..  A.  T.  L..  Ar- 
tie. Fan  and  May.  John  Dnerk.  Grade  Darby.  Bes- 
sie E.  H.  Humbert,  "Goo.  Logist."  Mary  B..  Daisy 
Douglass.  Alice  J.  Benson.  Edward  Harding.  Ar- 
thur X.  Brouirhton.  P.  Herbert  Greena.walt.  John 
Morris.  Dorville  S.  Coe.  "Amaranth."  Lucy  Pease, 
Huirh  Granger,  Sammy  Arnold,  "Daisy  Dimple," 
Lewis  Stout,  and  Folsom  R.  Jennings. 


[For  Ef  changes,  see  second  page  of  cover.  \ 


80 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A    WHIPPING    TOP. 


A  WISE  HORSE. 

HORSES  and  dogs  are  possessed  of  sagacity.  By  this  we 
mean  something  higher  than  mere  instinct — something 
which  in  human  beings  we  would  call  reason.  For  instance,  a 
man  was  one  night  riding  homeward  through  a  gloomy  wood. 
He  had  been  paying  a  visit  to  a  friend,  whose  house  was  a  mile 
behind  him,  when  he  struck  his  head  against  a  projecting  branch, 
and  was  thrown  to  the  ground.  There  he  lay  insensible. 

The  horse  stood  still  a  moment,  probably  to  consider — at  least 
so  we  suppose,  for  he  at  once  returned  to  the  house  his  master 
and  himself  had  left.  The  door  was  shut,  and  the  family  had 
gone  to  bed.  But,  the  horse  pawed  at  the  door  until  somebody 
came  and  opened  it.  No  sooner  did  this  person  appear  than  the 
animal  turned  round  and  led  the  way,  contented  when  he  saw 
that  he  was  followed,  to  the  place  where  his  fainting  master 
lay  beneath  the  trees. 


THE  PAPER  WHEEL. 

THIS  is  a  curious  little  toy  that  a  boy  might  amuse  himself 
by  fashioning  in  a  leisure  hour.     Some  thin  card-board,  one 
or  two  sheets  of  common  note-paper,  and  a  bottle  of  mucilage 
are  all  the  material  that  is  required.     The  spokes  and  t  ire  of  t  he 


wheel  must  be  made  of 
card-board.  The  wings, 
or  sails,  must  be  cut  from 
thin  paper,  and  made  tri- 
angular in  shape.  One 
side  of  the  triangle  must 
lie  fastened  to  one  spoke, 
while  the  opposite  point 
is  attached  to  the  next  in 
such  a  way  as  to  leave 
the  wing  curved  after 
the  manner  of  a  sail  fill- 
ed with  wind.  Toss  the 
wheel  into  the.  air,  and 
move  a  fan  rapidly  un- 
der it.  It  will  mount 
high  in  the  air,  revolving 
as  it  sails  about. 


HARRY'S  JOKE. 

BY  GATH  BRITTLE. 
MANY  a  wise  thing  sounds  absurd 
Through  the  wrong  naming  of  a  word: 
And  oft  is  caused  a   world  of  bother 
By  using  one  word  for  another; 
Yet  in  our  glossary  words  are  found 
Unlike  in  sense,  yet  like  in  sound. 

Though  by  word-blunders  harm  is  done, 

In   play  on  words  there's  sometimes  fun, 

As  in  an  apt  impromptu  pun, 

Or  in  a  joke  such  as  I  cite — 

Yet  Hal,  niethiuks,  was  hardly  right. 

"These  four  pears,"  said  cunning  Harry, 
"I'll  share  with  you  and  me  and  Carrie  ; 
I'll  neither  cut,  nor  bite,  nor  break  'em, 
And  yet  in  equal  shares  we'll  take  "em." 
"How'll  you  do  it,"  queried  Eve, 
"So  all  shall  equal  shares  receive?" 

"See  here,  now,"  said  that  cunning  Harry: 
"There's  two  for  little  Eve  and  Carrie, 
And  two  for  me." 

"But,  that's  not  fair; 

You  have  more  than  your  rightful  share. 
There's  one  for  Carrie,  one  for  me. 
And  two  for  you.     That  should  not  he." 

'•There's  two  for  you  two,"  Hal  replied — 
"Girls  never  can   be  satisfied — 
And  two  for  me,  too.     Don't  you  see 
This  is  as  fair  as  fair  can  be  ?" 


WHAT   BECAME    OF    A    BOY    WHO    JOINED    THE    CIRCUS. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANl  'ILLUSTRATED,  „ WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  163. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FOUR    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  December  12,  1882. 


Copyright,  1  •-:,  by  HABPKK  &  BuuTHKBS. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


"THEY   CAME   TO   LOOK   UP   WONDERINGLY   AT   THE   PRETTY    GIVER    OF   THE   FEAST."— SEE  PAGE  83. 


82 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CHRISTMAS  AT  THE  DOOR. 

BY  E.  M.  TRAQUAIR. 

HEAVY  and  thick  the  winter  snow 

Falls  on  the  frozen  pane; 
Wild  winds  over  the  house-top  blow, 

Turning  the  creaking  vane. 

"None  will  come  to  our  house  to-day, 

In  such  cold  and  stormy  weather. 
Mother,  tell  us  a  game  to  play 

Merrily  all  together; 

"Or  tell  us  a  tale  of  Fairy-laud, 

Such  as  you've  often  told, 
Where  elves  are  dancing,  a  gleesome  band, 

'Mid  trees  of  silver  and  gold." 

"Children,  over  the  frozen  moor 

Some  one  is  coming  now, 
Who'll  tell  a  talc,  when  lie's  crossed  the  door, 

Sweeter  than  all  I  know. 

"Hark!  I  hear  his  step  at  the  gate; 

Soon  will  the  summons  ring. 
Come,  make  ready  our  room  of  state — 

There  he  is!     Kling,  ling,  ling." 

Cltl'ixfllHIX    OlltxilJf. 

"Children,  i>]ien  the  door,  I  pray; 

?ilerrily  cninc  to  meet  me. 
Many  and  many  a  house  this  day 

Has  put  on  its  best  to  greet  me. 

"All  your  prettiest  carols  sing, 

Welcome  me  in  with  joy. 
For  see  whal   lieautifiil  gifts  I  bring 

For  each  little  girl  and  boy. 

"And  list  to  the  tale  of  Christmas-day: 

How  once,  in  a  lowly  stall. 
Meek  mid  mild  in  a  manger  lay 

The  Lord  and  Monarch  of  all. 

"Best  of  gifts  for  peasant  and  prince 

Was  this  sweet  Baby  dear: 
To  keep  you  in  mind  of  it,  ever  since, 

I  bring  you  merry  chirr. 

"And  glad  I  come  to  each  little  child 

To  till  its  heart  with  joy: 
For  that  dear  Lord,  so  meek  and  mild, 

Was  once  Himself  a  boy. 

"Then  open  your  doors  and  make  them  wide — 

Wider  each  little  heart; 
And  the  joy  I  bring  you,  whate'er  betide, 

Shall  never  again  depart." 


A  CHRISTMAS  DREAM,  AND  HOW  IT  CAME  TIM'E. 

BY  LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT. 
II. 

LIKE  a  flash  the  bright  country  vanished,  and  Effie 
found  herself  in  a  part  of  the  city  she  had  never  seen 
before.  It  was  far  away  from  the  gayer  places,  where 
every  store  was  .brilliant  with  lights  and  full  of  pretty 
things,  and  every  house  wore  a  festival  air,  while  people 
hurried  to  and  fro  with  merry  greetings.  It  was  down 
among  the  dingy  streets  where  the  poor  lived,  and  where 
there  was  no  making  ready  for  Christmas. 

Hungr\  women  looked  in  at  the  shabby  shops,  longing 
to  buy  meat  and  bread,  but  empty  pockets  forbade.  Tipsy 
men  drank  up  their  wages  in  the  bar-rooms,  and  in  many 
cold  dark  chambers  little  children  huddled  under  the  thin 
blankets  trying  to  forget  their  misery  in  sleep. 

No  nice  dinners  filled  the  air  with  savory  smells,  no 
gay  trees  dropped  toys  and  bonbons  into  eager  hands,  no 
little  stockings  hung  in  rows  beside  the  chimney-piece 


ready  to  be  filled,  no  happy  sounds  of  music,  gay  voices,  and 
dancing  feet  were  heard,  and  there  were  no  signs  of  Christ- 
mas anywhere. 

"  Don't  they  have  any  in  this  place  ?"  asked  Effie,  shiv- 
ering, as  she  held  fast  the  spirit's  hand,  following  where 
he  led  her. 

"We  come  to  bring  it.  Let  me  show  you  our  best 
workers;"  and  the  spirit  pointed  to  some  sweet-faced  men 
and  women  who  came  stealing  into  the  poor  houses,  work- 
ing such  beautiful  miracles  that  Effie  could  only  stand  and 
watch. 

Some  slipped  money  into  the  empty  pockets,  and  sent 
the  happy  mothers  to  buy  all  the  comforts  they  needed ; 
others  led  the  drunken  men  out  of  temptation,  and  took 
them  home  to  find  safer  pleasures  there.  Fires  were  kin- 
dled on  cold  hearths,  tables  spread  as  if  by  magic,  and 
warm  clothes  wrapped  round  shivering  limbs.  Flowers 
suddenly  bloomed  in  the  chambers  of  the  sick;  old  people 
found  themselves  remembered;  sad  hearts  were  consoled 
by  a  tender  word,  and  wicked  ones  softened  by  the  story 
of  Him  who  forgave  all  sin. 

But  the  sweetest  work  was  for  the  children,  and  Effie 
In 'Id  her  breath  to  watch  these  human  fairies  hangup  and 
fill  the  little  stockings  without  which  a  child's  Christmas 
is  not  perfect,  putting  in  things  that  once  she  would 
have  thought  very  humble  presents,  but  which  now  seem- 
ed beautiful  and  precious  because  these  poor  babies  had 
nothing. 

"That  is  so  beautiful!  I  wish  I  could  make  merry 
Clu-istmusfs  as  these  good  people  do,  and  be  loved  and 
thanked  as  they  are,"  said  Etfie,  softly,  as  she  watched  the 
busy  men  and  women  do  their  work  and  steal  away  with- 
out thinking  of  any  reward  but  their  own  satisfaction. 

"You  can  if  you  will.  I  have  shown  you  the  way. 
Try  it,  and  see  how  happy  your  own  holiday  will  be  here- 
after." 

As  he  spoke,  the  spirit  seemed  to  put  his  arms  about  her, 
and  vanished  with  a  kiss. 

"Oh,  stay  and  show  me  more!"  cried  Effie,  trying  to 
hold  him  fast. 

"  Darling,  wake  up  and  tell  me  why  you  are  smiling  in 
your  sleep,  "said  a  voice  in  her  ear,  and,  opening  her  eyes, 
there  was  mamma  bending  over  her,  and  morning  sun- 
shine streaming  into  the  room. 

' '  Are  they  all  gone  2  Did  you  hear  the  bells  ?  Wasn't 
it  splendid  ?''  she  asked,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  looking 
about  her  for  (lie  pretty  child  who  was  so  real  and  sweet. 

"You  have  been  dreaming  at  a  great  rate;  talking  in 
your  sleep,  laughing,  and  clapping  your  hands  as  if  you 
were  cheering  some  one.  Tell  me  what  was  so  splendid," 
said  mamma,  smoothing  the  tumbled  hair,  and  lifting  up 
the  sleepy  head. 

Then,  while  she  was  being  dressed,  Effie  told  her  dream, 
and  Nursey  thought  it  very  wonderful,  but  mamma  smiled 
to  see  how  curiously  things  the  child  had  thought,  read, 
heard,  and  seen  through  the  day  were  mixed  up  in  her 
sleep. 

"The  spirit  said  I  could  work  lovely  miracles  if  I  tried; 
but  I  don't  know  how  to  begin,  for  I  have  no  magic  candle 
to  make  feasts  appear,  and  light  up  groves  of  Christmas 
trees,  as  he  did."  said  Etfie,  sorrowfully. 

"Yes,  you  have.  We  will  do  it! — we  will  do  it!"  and, 
clapping  her  hands,  mamma,  suddenly  began  to  dance  all 
over  the  room  as  if  she  had  lost  her  wits. 

"How  ?  how  >.  You  must  tell  me,  mamma,"  cried  Effie, 
dancing  after  her,  and  ready  to  believe  anything  possible 
when  she  remembered  the  adventures  of  the  past  night. 

"I've  got  it!  I've  got  it!  the  new  idea.  A  splendid 
one,  if  I  can  only  carry  it  out, "and  mamma  waltzed  the 
little  girl  round  till  her  curls  flew  wildly  in  the  air,  while 
Nursey  laughed  as  if  she  would  die. 

"TeH  me!  tell  me!"  shrieked  Effie. 

"No,  no;  it  is  a  surprise— a  grand  surprise  for  Christ- 


DECEMBER  12,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


S3 


mas-day  !"  sung    mamma,  evidently    oliarni<>d    with    her' 
happy  thought.      "Now  conic  to  breakfast,  for   we  must 
work  like  bees  if  we  want  to  play  spirits  to-morrow.      You 
and  Nursey  will  go  out  shopping,  and  get  heaps  of  things, 
while  1  arrange  matters  behind  the  Scenes." 

They  were  running  clown-Stan's  as  mamma  spoke,  and 
Eliie  callcil  out.  breathlessly. 

"It  won't  be  a  surprise,  for  I  know  you  are  going  to 
ask  some  poor  children  here,  and  have  a  tree  or  some- 
thing. It  won't  be  like  my  dream,  for  they  bad  ever  so 
many  trees,  and  more  children  than  we  can  lind  any- 
where." 

"  There  will  be  no  tree,  no  party,  no  dinner,  in  this  house 
at  all.  and  no  presents  for  you.  Won't  that  be  a  surprise  ?" 
and  mamma  laughed  at  Effie's  bewildered  face. 

"Do  it:  I  shall  like  it,  I  think,  and  I  won't  ask  any 
questions,  so  it  will  all  burst  upon  me  when  the  time 
comes,"  she  said,  and  ate  her  breakfast  thoughtfully,  for 
this  really  would  be  a  new  sort  of  (  'hristmas. 

All  that  morning  Ellic  trotted  after  Nm-scy  in  and  out  of 
shops,  buying  do/ens  of  barking  do^s.  woolly  lambs,  and 
squeaking  birds.  Tiny  tea-sets,  gay  picture-l  .....  ks.  mit- 
tens and  hoods,  dolls  and  candy.  I'arccl  after  parrel  \\  as 
sent  home,  but  when  EtHe  returned  she  saw  no  trace  of 
them,  though  she  peeped  everywhere.  Nursey  chuckled. 
but  wouldn't  give  a  hint,  and  went  out  airain  in  the  after- 
noon with  a  long  list  of  more  things  to  buy.  while  Kllic 
wandered  forlornly  about  the  bouse,  missing  the  usual 
merr\  stir  Ilia!  \\eut  before  tile  Christinas  dinner  and  the 
evening  fun. 

As  for  mamma,  she  was  quite  invisible  all  day.  and 
came  in  at  night  so  tired  she  could  only  lie  on  the  sofa  to 
rest,  smiling  as  if  some  very  plea-ant  thought  made  her 

happy  in  spile  of  \\  eariness. 

'•  Is  the  surprise  going  on  all  right  t"  asked  Kllic.  anx- 
ious! \  .  for  it  seemed  an  immense  time  to  wait  til!  a  not  her 


i'j-  came. 

"Beautifully!  better  than  1  expected,  for  several  of  my 
good  friends  are  helping,  or  I  couldn't  have  done  it  as  I 
wish.  I  know  you  will  like  it.  dear,  and  long  remember 
this  new  way  of  making  Christmas  merry." 

Mamma  gave  her  a  T  cry  tenderJdss,  and  Kllic  went  to  bed. 

The  next  day  was  a  very  strange  one.  for  when  she 
woke  there  was  no  slocking  to  examine,  no  pile  of  ^it'ts 
under  her  napkin  ;  no  one  said  "  Merry  Christmas!"  to  her. 
and  the  dinner  was  just  as  usual  to  her.  Mamma  vanish 
ed  again,  and  Nursey  kept  wiping  her  eyes  and  saying: 
"The  dear  things.  It's  the  prettiest  idea.  I  ever  beard  of. 

No  one  but  your  blessed  ma  could  have  done  it. 

"Do  stop,  Nursey.  or  1  shall  go  cra/y  because  1  don't 
know  the  secret!"  cried  Eftic.  more  than  once,  and  kept 
her  eye  on  the  clock,  for  at  seven  in  the  evening  the  sur- 
prise was  to  come  off. 

The  longed-for  hour  arrived  at  last,  and  the  child  was 
too  excited  to  ask  questions  when  Nurse  put  on  her  cloak 
and  hood,  led  her  to  the  carriage,  and  they  drove  away, 
leaving  their  house  the  one  dark  and  silent  one  in  the 
row. 

"  I  feel  like  the  girls  in  the  fairy  tales  who  are  led  oil' 
to  strange  places  and  see  line  things."  said  Efh'e,  in  a  whis- 
per, as  they  jingled  through  the  gay  streets. 

"Ah,  my  deary,  it  is  like  a  fairy  tale,  I  do  assure  you, 
and  you  iri/l  see  finer  things  than  most  children  will  to- 
night. Steady,  now,  and  do  just  as  I  tell  you.  and  don't 
say  one  word  whatever  you  see,"  answered  Nursey,  quite 
quivering  with  excitement  as  she  put  ted  a  large  box  in  her 
lap,  and  nodded  and  laughed  with  twinkling  eyes. 

They  drove  into  a  dark  yard,  and  Effie  was  led  through 
a  back  door  to  a  little  room  where  Nurse  coolly  proceeded 
to  take  off  not  only  her  cloak  and  hood,  but  her  dress  and 
shoes  also.  Effie  stared  and  bit  her  lips,  but  kept  still  un- 
til out  of  the  box  came  a  little  white  fur  coat  and  boots,  a 


wivath  of  holly  leaves  and  berries,  and  a  candle  with  a 
frill  of  gold  paper  round  it.  A  long  "  Oh  !"  escaped  her 
then,  and  when  she  was  dressed  and  saw  herself  in  the 
glass  she  started  back,  exclaiming,  "Why,  Nursey,  I  look 
like  the  spirit  in  my  dream  !" 

"So  you  do,  and  that's  the  part  you  are  to  play,  my 
pretty.  Now  whist,  while  I  blind  your  eyes  and  put  you 
in  your  place." 

"  Shall  I  be  afraid  i"  whispered  Effie,  full  of  wonder,  for 
as  they  went  out  she  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices,  the 
tramp  of  many  feet,  and,  spite  of  the  bandage,  was  sure  a 
great  light  shone  upon  her  when  she  stopped. 

"You  needn't  be;  I  shall  stand  close  by,  and  your  ma 
will  be  there." 

After  the  handkerchief  was  tied  about  her  eyes  Nurse 
led  Effie  up  some  steps,  and  placed  her  on  a  high  platform, 
where  something  like  leaves  touched  her  head,  and  the 
soft  snap  of  lamps  seemed  to  fill  the  air. 

Music  began  as  soon  as  Nurse  clapped  her  hands,  the 
voices  outside  sounded  nearer,  and  the  tramp  was  evi- 
dently coming  up  the  stairs. 

"Now.  my  precious,  look  and  see  how  you  and  your 
dear  ma  have  made  a  merry  Christmas  for  them  that 
needed  it  !'' 

<  Ml1  went  the  bandage,  and  for  a  minute  Effie  really  did 
think  she  was  asleep  again,  for  she  actually  stood  in  "a 
grove  of  Christmas  trees. "all  gay  and  shining  as  in  her 
vision.  Twelve  on  a  side,  in  two  rows  down  the  room, 

st 1  the  litlle  pines,  each  on  its  low  table,  and  behind 

Ktlie  a  taller  one  rose  i<>  the  roof,  hung  with  wreaths  of 
popcorn,  apples,  oranges,  horns  of  candy,  and  cakes  of  all 
sorts,  from  sugary  hearts  to  gingerbread  .  I  urn  bos.  <  >n  the 
smaller  trees  >|n-  xi«  man\  of  her  ou  n  discarded  toys  and 
those  Nursey  bought,  as  well  as  heaps  that  seemed  to 
have  rained  down  straight  from  that  delightful  (.'hristmas 
country  where  she  felt  as  if  she  was  a"'ain. 

" How  splendid !  Who  is  it  for  '>.  What  is  that  noise? 
Where  is  mamma  ;"  cried  Ellic,  pale  with  pleasure  and 
surnrise  as  she  stood  looking  down  the  brilliant  little 
street  from  her  high  (dace. 

Before  Nurse  could  answer,  the  doors  at  the  lower  end 
Hew  open,  and  in  marched  twenty-four  little  blue-gowned 
orphan  girls  singing  sweetly,  until  amazement  changed 
the  song  to  cries  of  joy  and  wonder  as  the  shining  spec- 
tacle appeared.  While  they  stood  staring'  with  round 
eyes  at  the  wilderness  of  pretty  things  about  them,  mam- 
ma stepped  up  beside  Ellie.  and  holding  her  hand  fast  to 
L1 1  \  e  her  courage,  told  tin1  story  of  the  dream  in  a  few  sim- 
ple words,  ending  in  this  way: 

"So  my  little  girl  wanted  to  be  a  Christmas  spirit  too, 
and  make  this  a  happy  day  for  those  who  had  not  as  many 
pleasures  and  comforts  as  she  has.  She  likes  surprises, 
and  we  planned  this  for  you  all.  She  shall  play  the  good 
fairy,  and  give  each  of  you  something  from  this  tree,  aft- 
er which  every  one  will  find  her  own  name  on  a  small 
tree,  and  can  go  to  enjoy  it  in  her  own  way.  March  by, 
my  dears,  and  let  us  fill  your  hands." 

Nobody  told  them  to  do  it,  but  all  the  hands  were 
clapped  heartily  before  a  single  child  stirred;  then  one  by 
one  they  came  to  look  up  wonderingly  at  the  pretty  giver 
of  the  feast  as  she  leaned  down  to  offer  them  great  yellow 
oranges,  red  apples,  bunches  of  grapes,  bonbons  and  cakes, 
till  all  were  gone,  and  a  double  row  of  smiling  faces  turn- 
ed toward  her  as  the  children  filed  back  to  their  places  in 
the  orderly  way  they  had  been  taught. 

Then  each  was  led  to  her  own  tree  by  the  good  ladies 
who  had  helped  mamma  with  all  their  hearts,  and  the  hap- 
py hubbub  that  arose  would  have  satisfied  even  Santa 
Clans  himself.'  Shrieks  of  joy,  dances  of  delight,  laugh- 
ter and  tears,  for  some  tender  little  things  could  not  bear 
so  much  pleasure  at  once,  and  sobbed  with  mouths  full  of 
candy  arid  hands  of  toys.  How  they  ran  to  show  one 
another  the  new  treasures,  how  they  peeped  and  tasted, 


JIAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


pulled  and  pinched,  until  the  air  was  full  of  queer  noises, 
the  floor  covered  with  papers,  and  the  little  trees  left  bare 
of  all  but  candles. 

"I  don't  think  heaven  can  be  any  gooder  than  this," 
sighed  one  small  girl,  as  she  looked  about  her  in  a  blissful 
maze,  holding  her  full  apron  with  one  liand,  while  she 
luxuriously  carried  sugar-plums  to  her  mouth  with  the 
other. 

"Is  that  a  truly  angel  up  there  ?"  asked  another,  fasci- 
nated by  the  little  white  figure  with  the  wreath  011  its  shin- 
ing hair,  who  in  some  mysterious  way  had  been  the  cause 
of  all  this  merry-making. 

"I  wish  I  dared  to  go  and  kiss  her  for  this  splendid 
party,"  said  a  lame  child,  leaning  on  her  crutch  as  she 
stood  near  the  steps,  wondering  how  it  seemed  to  sit  in  a 
mother's  lap,  as  Effie  was  doing,  while  she  watched  the 
happy  scene  before  her. 

Efh'e  heard  her,  and  remembering  Tiny  Tim,  ran  down 
and  put  her  arms  about  the  pale  child,  kissing  the  wistful 
face,  as  she  said,  sweetly,  "You  may,  but  mamma  deserves 
the  thanks.  She  did  it  all;  I  only  dreamed  about  it." 

Lame  Katy  felt  as  if  "a  truly  angel''  was  embracing 
her,  and  could  only  stammer  out  her  thanks,  while  the 
other  children  ran  to  see  the  pretty  spirit,  and  touch  her 
soft  dress,  until  she  stood  in  a  crowd  of  blue  gowns  laugh- 
ing as  they  held  up  their  gifts  for  her  to  see  and  admire. 

Mamma  leaned  down  aud  whispered  one  word  to  the 


older  girls,  and  suddenly  they  all  took  hands  to  dance 
round  Effie,  singing  as  they  skipped. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight,  and  the  ladies  found  it  hard  to 
break  up  the  happy  revel ;  but  it  was  late  for  small  people, 
and  too  much  fun  is  a  mistake.  So  the  girls  fell  into  line, 
and  marched  before  Effie  and  mamma  again,  to  say  good- 
night with  such  grateful  little  faces  that  the  eyes  of  those 
who  looked  grew  dim  with  tears.  Mamma  kissed  every 
one,  and  many  a  hungry  childish  heart  felt  as  if  the 
touch  of  those  tender  lips  was  their  best  gift.  Effie  shook 
so  many  small  hands  that  her  own  ting'led,  and  when 
Katy  came  she  pressed  a  small  doll  into  Effie's  hand, 
whispering:  "You  didn't  have  a  single  present,  and  we 
had  lots.  Do  keep  that;  it's  the  prettiest  thing  I  got." 

"  I  will,"  answered  Effie.  and  held  it  fast  until  the  last 
smiling  face  was  gone,  the  surprise  all  over,  and  she  safe 
in  her  own  bed,  too  tired  and  happy  for  anything  but  sleep. 

"  Mamma,  it  was  a  beautiful  surprise,  and  I  thank  you 
so  much !  I  don't  see  how  you  did  it,  but  I  like  it  best  of 
all  the  Christmases  I  ever  had,  and  mean  to  make  one 
every  year.  I  had  my  splendid  big  present,  and  here  is 
the  dear  little  one  to  keep  for  love  of  poor  Katy ;  so  even 
that  part  of  my  wish  came  true." 

And  Effie  fell  asleep  with  a  happy  smile  on  her  lips, 
her  one  humble  gift  still  in  her  hand,  and  a  new  love  for 
Christmas  in  her  heart  that  never  changed  through  along 
life  spent  in  doing  good. 


I 

. 


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TURN  ABOUT  IS  BUT  FAIR  PLAY. 


BY    MAEGAKET   EYTIXUE. 


TURN  about  is  lint  f;iir  play: 
Grandpa's  been  just  half  the  day 
Harnessed  to  the  children's  sleigh, 
Giving  vidcs  to  Will  and  Jess, 
Jolly  Jack  and  little  Bess. 

Now,  to  sound  of  laughter  shrill, 
Jolly  Jack  and  Jess  and  Will 
Play  at   horses  with  j^n-at  skill. 
Ne'er  did  team  in  any  weather 
Go  so  merrily  together. 


And  'tis  grandpa  takes  a  ride — 
Major  running  by  his  side. 
Harking  in  delisht  and  pride — 
On  liis  dear  old  face  a  smile 
Brightly  beaming  all  the  while. 

"Faster!  faster!"  Bessie  cries, 
Watching  them  with  dancing  eyes. 
"Nay,  not  so,  or  I'll  capsize," 
Grandpa  says.     Oh,  it  is  gay: 
Turn  about  is  but  fair  play. 


DECEMBER  12,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


85 


THE  GREGORIAN  CALENDAR. 

VI  '.VLENDAR  is  the  means  of  reckoning  time.  Our 
calendar  begins  with  the  birth  of  Christ,  from  which 
time  we  count  up  eighteen  hundred  and  eighty-two  years. 
The  Jews  and  the  Russians  begin  with  the  creation  of  the 
iVdi-ld.  Tlie  Chinese  and  Egyptians  reckoned  by  the  lives 
of  their  kings.  The  Romans  began  with  the  founding  of 
their  city.  T .">.".  P..C.  The  Greeks  counted  the  years  by  (  llym- 
piads  of  live  \  ears  each,  beginning  with  the  first  Olympic 
Games,  in  77(i  B.C.  The  Mohammedans  reckon  from  the 
flight  of  Mohammed  to  Medina.  Savages  notch  upon 
tree*  a  mark  for  each  year  as  it  passes. 

Years  are  of  two  kinds,  the  solar  and  the  lunar.  The 
solar  or  sun  year  is  founded  upon  the  revolution  of  the 
earth  around  the  sun.  The  lunar  is  composed  of  twelve 
revolut  ions  of  the  moon.  Our  calendar  uses  solar  years, 

and   divides  each    year  into  twelve   i iths  of   different 

lengths.  It  is  founded  upon  the  Roman  calendar,  \\hieh 
was  reformed  by  .lulius  (\esar  and  an  Egyptian  mathe- 
matician. Sosigenes.  CVsar  found  the  Roman  calendar 
in  great  disorder.  The  true  regulation  of  time  had  been 
forgotten.  The  summer  months  had  heenme  autumn  or 
winter  months.  Ca'sar  corrected  these  errors,  and  nearly 
all  modern  nations  US6  the  mode  of  reek  on  ing  time  this  fa- 
mous Roman  devised.  It  is  known  as  the  .Julian  calen 
dar. 

Ciesar  made  the  year  consist  of  three  hundred  and  six 
ty-live  days  and  six  hours.      He  divided    it    into   twelve 
months,  and  every  fourth  or  leap  year  added  a  da\  to  COD 
sume  the  hours  unprovided  for.      His  reformed  calendar 

began   the   forty-sixth   year  before  ( 'hrist.  and   the   n. - 

of  the  mouths  were  nearly  like  our  own.  January  be- 
came again  winter,  and  March  and  April  spring.  The 
llomans  counted  their  years  l'ro m  the  foiindinir  "'  their 
city,  but  about  the  seventh  or  eighth  century  the  Western 
Christians  began  to  date  from  the  birth  of  (.'hrist.  A 
monk,  I  >i  01  iy. si  us,  is  said  to  have  introduced  the  new  meth- 
od, and  it  was  soon  in  use  among  all  the  Western  nations. 

The  Julian  calendar  was  not,  perfectly  accurate.  The 
true  solar  year  is  only  three  hundred  and  si\t\  live  days, 
live  hours,  forty  eight  minutes,  and  forty  six  seconds  long. 
The  Julian  year  was  therefore  nearly  twelve  minutes  too 
long.  It  gained  more  than  three  da  \  s  every  four  hundred 
years,  and  hence  in  ITiS'j  what  should  have  been  the  l.">th 
of  October,  dating  from  the  Council  of  Nice,  .">•_'.">  A.I>.,  was 
known  as  the  5th.  Pope  Gregory  XIII.,  aided  by  intel- 
ligent mathematicians,  resolved  to  correct  the  error,  and 
provide  a  calendar  that  should  be  exact  for  all  time.  It 
is  the  one  we  now  use,  and  is  called  from  him  the  Grego- 
rian calendar.  It  omitted  ten  days,  making  the  fith  of 
October,  1582,  the  15th,  and  for  the  future  provided  that 
three  days  should  be  dropped  in  every  four  hundred 
years.  The  years  I7i«i,  IMMI,  and  1000  each  lose  a  single 
day,  while  the  year  2000  will  be  a  leap-year.  Thus  every 
century  not  divisible  by  four  loses  one  da\ . 

The  Gregorian  calendar  was  slowly  adopted  in  Protest- 
ant countries,  and  has  never  been  adopted  in  Russia.  It 
was  not  received  in  England  until  1752.  Eleven  days 
were  then  omitted  from  the  month  of  September,  17r>l  ;  the 
2d  was  made  the  14th,  and  the  Gregorian  method  of  com- 
puting time  became  obligatory  over  England  and  English 
America.  Much  opposition  was  made ;  the  terms  New  and 
Old  Style  arose,  and  before  1752  it  is  always  necessary  to 
allow  for  the  change  in  the  calendar.  The  New  Style  be- 
gan January  1,  1752. 

On  the  15th  of  October,  1882,  occurred  the  three-hun- 
dredth anniversary  of  the  reform  introduced  by  Gregory 
XIII.  It  recalls  the  fact  that  we  are  computing  time  by 
a  method  first  arranged  by  Julius  Caesar,  and  corrected 
by  Gregory,  but  whose  origin  reaches  so  far  back  into  the 
history  of  man,  that  we  can  never  discover  what  race  or 
what  man  of-  science  first  measured  the  solar  year. 


TOO    Mfrll    C1IK1STMAS    DIXXKK. 


WILLIE'S  CHRISTMAS. 

BY  HELEN  S.  (  UNA  XT 

MOTHER!  wake  up,  mother!"  said  Willie  Dawson. 
Mrs.  Dawson   turned   her  head   feebly  on   her  pil- 
low, and  as  she  opened  her  eyes  slowly,  tried  to  smile  at 
the  little  boy  who  stood  anxiously  at  her  bedside. 

The  daylight  st  rubied  feebly  through  the  frost-covered 
windows  of  the  room.  It  was  not  a  comfortable  room. 
Then-  was  no  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  the  very  small 
stove  w  as  cold  and  dark.  ( >n  a  table  in  (lie  corner  lay  a 
heap  of  unfinished  sewing,  and  there  were  three  chairs 
besides  i  he  bed. 

"  If  1  build  a  lire,  and  make  the  room  nice  and  warm, 
don't  \o"  think  \  ou  can  get  up,  mother  :"  said  the  little 
boy.  as  he  struggled  to  keep  a  bright  face,  although  big 
tears  \\  ere  crowding  into  iiis  great  blue  eyes. 

"Yes,  Willie,"  Said  Mrs.  l>awson.  faintly  ;  "I  must  get 
up  and  finish  that  work  for  the  lady  in  the  village.  I 
promised  to  take  it  h e  last  week." 

"  lint  you  couldn't  work,  mother,  when  you  were  SO 
sick.  Now  I'll  make  a  lire  right,  oil',  and  then  you'll  feel 
ever  so  much  better." 

Willie  went  out  into  the  small  shed  adjoining  the  cot- 
tage, where  was  some  brush-wood  he  had  dragged  in  the 
day  before.  The  snow  had  drifted  in  through  the  broken 
window  during  the  night,  and  the  wood  was  almost  cov- 
ered up,  but,  Willie  dug  it  out  bravely,  and  carried  an  arm- 
ful in  to  the  tiny  stove. 

"Now,  mother,  I'll  have  a  jolly  fire  in  two  minutes," 
said  he.  But  the  wood  was  wet  and  green,  and  however 
carefully  he  held  the  match  to  the  smallest  twigs,  he  could 
not  produce  a  spark. 

At  last  he  gave  up  in  despair,  and  stood  thoughtfully 
considering  what  to  do  next.  His  mother  meanwhile  had 
fallen  into  a  feverish  sleep,  and  Willie  felt  that  a  terrible 
responsibility  rested  on  his  small  shoulders.  To-morrow 
was  Christmas-day,  too,  and  somehow  that  seemed  to  make 
things  a  great  deal  harder.  He  could  not  help  thinking 
about  last  Christmas,  when  his  father  had  come  home  from 
sea,  and  brought  so  many  pretty  things  for  his  mother  and 
himself.  And  now  his  father  was  dead,  and  his  mother 
was  sick — very  sick,  perhaps — and  he  thought  with  terror 
that  she  might  die  too.  He  crept  softly  to  the  bed  and 
looked  at  her.  Suddenly  the  thought  flashed  across  his 
mind  that  she  must  have  a  doctor.  She  had  said  the  day 
before  that  she  did  not  need  one,  but  he  was  sure  she  must 
have  been  mistaken.  He  had  read  stories  of  doctors  who 
were  very  kind  men,  and  did  lots  of  nice  things  for  people. 
Perhaps  the  doctor  in  the  village  was  a  kind  man,  and 
would  know  just  how  to  make  his  mother  well  and  happy 
again.  He  thought  he  would  go  that  very  minute  and 


86 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


see  him — perhaps  bring  him  back,  and  surprise  his  mother 
•when  she  waked  up. 

He  went  on  tiptoe  for  his  cap.  which  hung  on  a  nail  in 
the  corner.  It  was  a  pretty  little  fur  cap,  a  relic  of  Wil- 
lie's happier  days.  But  the  cap  alone  was  not  sufficient 
protection  against  the  biting  wind  of  a  snowy  morning  in 
December,  and  Willie  had  no  overcoat,  and  his  summer 
jacket  was  thin  and  worn.  But  the  stout-hearted  little 
fellow  did  not  think  of  the  cold;  but  what  he  did  think 
of,  suddenly  and  with  great  sinking  of  heart,  was  that  he 
had  no  money  to  offer  the  doctor.  He  knew  there  was 
none  in  the  house,  for  he  had  spent  the  last  cent  the  night 
before  for  a  little  tea  for  his  mother. 

Willie  wondered  how  much  the  doctor  would  ask.  He 
thought  ten  cents  would  do,  perhaps,  for  ten  cents  seemed 
a  great  deal  of  money  to  him,  and  he  must  manage  to  get 
it  somehow.  He  had  heard  boys  in  the  city  talk  about 
getting  jobs  to  do,  and  he  must  try  to  get  one  now.  But 
here  in  the  country  there  were  no  gentlemen's  horses  to 
hold,  nor  any  sidewalks  to  clean  off.  and  what  could  lie 
do  ?  He  went  to  the  door  and  looked  out.  A  great  deal 
of  snow  had  fallen  in  the  night,  and  it  lay  level  and 
sparkling  all  over  the  fields.  There  was  no  house  very 
near,  and  everything  was  so  still  and  deserted  that  the 
lonely  little  boy's  courageous  heart  gave  way,  and  he  be- 
gan to  sob  bitterly. 

"Is  breakfast  ready,  Susan?"  said  Uncle  Tom  Parsons. 
as  he  entered  the  warm  kitchen  of  a  large  New  England 
farm-house.  A  bright  fire  was  snapping  in  the  cooking- 
stove,  and  a  hot  breakfast  was  smoking  on  the  table. 
Aunt  Sue  and  Lucindy  the  "help''  were  bustling  about, 
and  altogether  it  wyas  as  cheerful  a  place  as  you  could  have 
found  anywhere. 

The  whole  house  was  cheerful,  for  that  matter,  for  Lu- 
cindy had  already  kindled  big  roaring  wood  fires  in  every 
room.  The  great  south  parlor  was  the  best  of  all,  for  it 
was  bountifully  trimmed  with  hemlock  boughs,  which 
filled  the  room  with  a  spicy  odor,  and  in  the  centre  stood 
a  gigantic  Christmas  tree,  covered  with  rosy  apples,  little 
lace  bags  of  candy,  and  other  pretty  ornaments.  Among 
its  branches  were  gingerbread  and  short-cake  elephants 
and  rabbits,  and  dogs  and  cats,  and  if  you  had  pulled 
aside  the  curtain,  and  peeped  through  the  glass  door  of  the 
cupboard,  you  would  have  seen  a  wonderful  array  of  toys 
on  the  shelves  inside.  But  these  were  not  to  be  taken  out 
and  put  on  the  tree  until  evening. 

"It  snowed  pretty  heavy  all  night,  I  reckon,"  said 
Uncle  Tom.  "  It  took  me  'most  a  half  an  hour  to  shovel 
a  path  out  to  the  barn,  and  the  hen-house  is  all  blocked  up 
yet.  That  big  drift  by  the  gate  must  be  broken  up.  too. 
It  '11  take  the  oxen  to  do  that.  Lucky  Madge  and  the  boys 
are  not  coming  till  the  afternoon  train.  Don't  believe  I 
could  get  the  sleigh  over  to  the  station  now  if  I  tried." 

"  Hope  the  railroad  isn't  blocked  up,"  said  Aunt  Sue. 

"Them  big  snow-ploughs  they  have  now  will  clear  it 
out  before  noon  if  'tis." 

Uncle  Tom  and  Aunt  Sue  were  the  last  brother  and 
sister  left  of  a  large  family.  Every  one  of  those  who  had 
made  the  old  farm-house  merry  on  Christmas-days  long 
past  were  sleeping  in  the  grave-yard  by  the  village  church, 
and  the  only  one  these  two  kind-hearted  people  had  left 
to  love  was  Madge,  their  niece,  whom  they  had  tenderly 
brought  home  to  the  old  farm  years  before,  when  her  par- 
ents had  died  and  left  her  an  orphan.  Now  she  was  mar- 
ried, and  her  holiday  visits  with  her  husband1  and  four 
rollicking  boys  were  the  bright  days  in  the  old  farm-house. 

"Have  you  been  to  sec  that  woman  yet  that  moved 
into  the  house  down  beyond  the  pasture?"  asked  Uncle 
Tom,  as  lie  finished  his  cup  of  smoking  coffee. 

"  No,  I  haven't  been  yet,"  said  Aunt  Sue.  "  I  was  go- 
ing to  send  Lucindy  over  to-day  with  some  pies  and  things, 
but  she  says  there  hasn't  been  a  mite  of  smoke  coming  out 


of  the  chimney  this  morning,  and  I  thought  maybe  she'd 
gone  off  to  spend  Christmas  with  her  folks  somewhere." 

"  Give  me  the  things,  and  I'll  drive  round  and  leave 
'em  when  I  go  to  the  station.  I  saw  a  light  in  the  house 
last  night.  I  guess  she's  home,"  said  Uncle  Tom.  "She 
must  be  awful  poor,"  he  added;  "that  shanty  ain't  actu- 
ally fit  for  a  woodshed.  You  ought  to  go  and  see  her, 
Susan.  She  may  be  suffering,  when  here  we  are  with 
more' 11  we  know  how  to  eat  up." 

"Well,  I  did  mean  to,  right  off;  but  she's  kept  herself 
so  close  that  I  thought  maybe  she  didn't  care  to  see  folks. 
She  ain't  been  nowhere  except  to  Harm  Davis's  to  ask  for 
some  sewing-work.  She  told  Marm  Davis  that  her  hus- 
band was  a  sea-captain,  and  that  he  died  ashore  last  sum- 
mer with  fever.  She  came  here  to  live  because  it  wouldn't 
cost  her  so  much  as  in  the  city,  and  she  thought  she  could 
get  plenty  of  sewing  to  do  in  the  village.  Marm  Davis 
gave  her  some,  but  she  said  yesterday  she  hadn't  brought 
it  back  yet,  and  she  thought  likely  as  not  she'd  gone  off 
with  it,  same  as  that  woman  did  who  settled  down  to  the 
lower  parish  two  years  ago." 

"I  don't  care  a  straw  what  Marm  Davis  thinks,"  said 
Uncle  Tom;  "she's  always  ready  to  throw  stones  when 
there  ain't  nothing  to  hit.  Why  didn't  she  go  round  to 
see  if  the  woman  wasn't  sick  ?" 

"She  was  going,  she  said,  hut  Mary  Jane's  home  for 
Christmas  with  all  her  children,  and  she's  been  awful 
busy." 

"  Hasn't  the  woman  got  a  child  with  her  ?"  asked  Uncle 
Tom. 

"  Yes,  she  has,"  said  Aunt  Sue.  "I  don't  know  wheth- 
er it's  a  boy  or  girl.  Mr.  Pinchem  he  gave  her  the  house 
rent  free,  I  heard." 

"  Rent  free !"  said  Uncle  Tom,  indignantly.  "  Why,  he 
wouldn't  house  his  own  hogs  in  that  rickety  old  place." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Shouldn't  wonder  if  that  was  Sam  Emmons  come  to 
get  help  iii  breaking  out  the  roads,"  said  Uncle  Tom. 

"Hullo!"  he  said,  in  astonishment,  as  he  opened  the 
door,  for  instead  of  the  portly  form  of  Sam  Emmons,  the 
village  stage-driver,  there  stood  on  the  door-step  a  very 
small  boy  with  a  fur  cap  pushed  down  over  his  golden 
curls. 

"Please,  sir,  "said  the  small  boy,  timidly,  "  could  I  have 
a  job  to  shovel  paths  ?" 

Aunt  Sue  and  Lucindy  were  both  at  the  door  in  a  twink- 
ling, and  before  Uncle  Tom  could  say  a  word,  Aunt  Sue 
had  seized  the  small  boy  and  seated  him  in  a  big  chair 
close  to  the  stove. 

"Well,  I  never!"  she  said,  as  she  brushed  the  snow 
from  the  boy's  clothes.  "How  that  mite  found  his  way 
here  through  the  drifts  is  more'n  I  can  tell." 

Aunt  Sue  was  sure  that  it  was  the  poor  stranger  wo- 
man's boy  from  the  little  house  beyond  the  pasture,  for 
she  knew  every  child  in  town,  and  this  one  she  had  never 
seen  before. 

"Did  your  mother  send  you  out  to  get  a  job  this  dread- 
ful snowy  morning  ?"  she  asked. 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  Willie,  as  well  as  he  could,  for  he 
was  still  shivering  so  he  could  scarcely  speak.  Then  he 
told  his  sad  little  story,  and  how  anxious  he  was  to  earn 
some  pennies  to  give  the  doctor. 

It  was  strange  how  violently  Uncle  Tom  began  to  cough 
just  at  this  time  behind  his  red  silk  handkerchief,  and 
Aunt  Sue's  eyes  grew  as  red  all  of  a  sudden  as  if  she  had 
been  peeling  onions.  As  for  Lucindy,  her  face  twitched 
so  that  you  would  have  thought  she  was  trying  to  swallow 
some  bad-tasting  medicine. 

Aunt  Sue  was  a  very  kind-hearted  woman,  there  was 
not  the  least  doubt  about  that,  but  sometimes  she  was  so 
busy  with  her  own  affairs  that  she  forgot  to  look  about 
and  see  what  good  was  waiting  for  her  to  do,  just  as  a 
great  many  of  us  neglect  kindnesses  which  we  ought  to 


DECEMBER  12,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


87 


think  of.     But  once  get  Aunt  Sue  started,  ami  it  was  won- 
derful how  much  she  could  accomplish. 

"Thomas,"  she  said  to  her  brother,  "the  horse  and 
sleigh  must  be  harnessed  up  right  off." 

Uncle  Tom  evidently  had  thought  the  very  same  thing. 
for  he  was  already  pulling  on  his  great  overcoat  and 
strapping  his  fur  cap  down  over  his  ears. 

"  Guess  I'll  put  an  armful  of  dry  wood  in  the  bottom 
of  the  sleigh,"  said  he;  "you'll  know  what  else  to  take, 
Susan." 

Aunt  Sue  bustled  about  in  a  hurry.  She  did  not  fill  a 
basket  with  tea  and  sugar  and  oranges,  as  people  often  do 
when  they  go  on  such  an  errand,  for  she  had  another  plan 
in  her  head,  and  she  meant  to  carry  it  out  if  possible.  But 
she  took  from  the  great  chest  of  drawers  upstairs  a  warm 
flannel  wrapper,  a  great  fur  cloak,  and  a  whole  armful  of 
shawls  and  blankets.  Then  she  got  a  bottle  of  her  best 
currant  wine,  and  a  pailful  of  white  jelly  that  looked  very 
much  like  cold  chicken  broth. 

Lucindy,  meanwhile,  was  giving  Willie  the  biggest 
breakfast  he  had  eaten  for  months. 

It  was  not  long  before  Ponto,  the  horse,  pranced  up  to 
the  door  with  a  merry  jingle  of  sleigh-bells.  Aunt  Sue 
aiid  Uncle  Tom  put  Willie  between  them  in  the  big  sleigh, 
and  covered  him  up  with  buffalo-robes  so  that  only  tin- 
top  of  his  little  cap  was  visible,  and  oft'  they  started  down 
the  hill.  Ponto  seemed  to  understand  that  he  must  go  as 
fast  as  he  could,  and  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good 
to  see  the  way  that  noble  horse  ploughed  through  the 
snow-drifts. 

Down  at  the  corner  Uncle  Tom  stopped  for  a  moment, 
and  asked  a  neighbor  to  go  to  the  village  and  tell  the  doctor 
to  come  to  the  little  wooden  house  as  quick  as  lie  could. 

Willie  was  so  excited  that  he  could  hardly  wait  until 
Ponto  stopped  at  the  cottage,  to  jump  out  of  the  sleigh, 
and  rush  in  to  find  his  mother. 

Oh,  it  was  so  bitter  cold  and  dreary  in  that  little  room 
that  Uncle  Tom  had  another  dreadful  coughing  iit  behind 
his  red  silk  handkerchief  as  soon  as  he  came  in. 

It  didn't  take  two  minutes  to  start  the  wood  blazing  in 
that  little  stove.  The  stove  apparently  understood  just 
what  was  expected  of  it,  for  it  grew  red-hot  right  away,  and 
made  the  room  warm  as  fast  as  it  could. 

Mrs.  Dawson  opened  her  eyes  in  wonderment  when 
Willie  cuddled  up  close  to  her  and  began  to  tell  all  that 
had  happened.  She  had  slept  all  the  time  he  had  been 
away,  and  was  feeling  a  little  better;  but  she  was  so  weak 
and  feverish  that  Aunt  Sue  would  not  let  her  say  a  word 
until  she  had  swallowed  some  of  the  currant  wine,  and  had 
taken  a  cup  of  the  chicken  broth,  which  was  already  bub- 
bling on  the  stove. 

When  the  doctor  came  he  looked  very  serious  at  first,  as 
he  took  out  his  great  gold  watch  and  studied  it  intently, 
while  he  held  Mrs.  Dawson's  wrist,  but  in  a  moment  more 
he  stroked  Willie's  golden  curls,  and  made  the  boy's  heart 
dance  with  delight  when  he  said  there  was  nothing  the 
matter  with  his  mother  except  overwork  and  lack  of  nour- 
ishing food,  and  that  she  would  be  well  in  a  few  days,  only, 
as  he  told  Aunt  Sue  afterward,  if  she  had  staid  in  that 
cold  wretched  room  many  hours  longer  she  would  have 
been  past  all  help. 

And  now  Aunt  Sue  had  a  private  talk  with  the  doctor, 
during  which  he  nodded  his  head  several  times,  and  was 
heard  to  say,  "Just  the  thing;  it  won't  hurt  her  a  bit." 
which  made  Willie  wonder  very  much  what  it  was  all 
about. 

Well,  the  result  of  it  was  that  Uncle  Tom  and  the  doc- 
tor arranged  all  the  blankets  and  shawls  in  the  big  sleigh, 
while  Aunt  Sue  dressed  Willie's  mother  in  the  flannel 
wrapper  and  great  fur  cloak,  which  covered  her  from  head 
to  foot.  Then  Uncle  Tom  lifted  her  in  his  big  strong 
arms  and  laid  her  gently  in  the  sleigh,  and  soon  Ponto  was 
speeding  away  for  the  farm-house,  with  Aunt  Sue,  who 


had  her  arms  tight  around  Mrs.  Dawson,  and  Uncle  Tom 
with  Willie  cuddled  down  between  his  knees. 

When  they  arrived,  how  Lucindy  did  fly  around  to 
make  things  comfortable !  Mrs.  Dawson  was  put  in  the 
great  four-post  bed  in  the  room  opening  out  of  the  south 
parlor.  And  when  she  said  how  sorry  she  was  to  make 
so  mucli  trouble,  Aunt  Sue  only  kissed  her.  and  went  im- 
mediately to  the  closet  to  get  another  jumble  for  Willie. 

' '  Just  to  think  of  that  pretty  cretur  and  that  boy 
a-starvin'  right  under  our  very  eyes!"  said  Lucindy.  "But 
they  ain't  starvin'  now,  that's  sure." 

You  never  saw  such  a  day  as  it  was  in  the  old  farm- 
house. The  sunbeams  danced  in  through  the  windows, 
and  the  great  brass  candlesticks  on  the  mantel-pieces 
caught  them  and  danced  them  back  into  all  corners  of  the 
room. 

Before  dinner-time  Willie  had  been  all  over  the  barns 
with  Uncle  Tom,  fed  Po-nto  with  apples,  and  made  ac- 
quaintance with  all  the  cows.  He  helped  to  dig  the  snow 
away  from  the  hen-house  door,  and  Uncle  Tom  solemnly 
assured  him  that  without  his  help  he  didn't  believe  lie  could 
have  got  that  door  open  till  spring,  which  made  Willie 
feel  very  happy  and  important. 

"I  guess  I  can  do  lots  of  things  round  the  barn,"  said 
Willie. 

Uncle  Tom  said  he  was  sure  of  it,  and  that  if  Willie  was 
there  he  didn't  think  he  should  need  to  hire  any  man  to 
help  about  the  haying  next  summer.  Then  lie  laughed 
very  loud,  as  he  looked  down  at  the  wee  mite  of  a  boy, 
and  picking  him  up,  set  him  astride  of  his  broad  shoul- 
ders, and  strode  off  through  the  snow  toward  the  house. 

It  was  wonderful  what  a  way  Uncle  Tom  had  of  making 
everybody  around  him  feel  happy. 

It  was  almost  time  to  light  the  candles  when  Madge  and 
her  husband  and  the  four  boys  arrived.  Uncle  Tom 
brought  them  from  the  station,  and  they  filled  the  sleigh 
so  full  that  he  had  to  get  Sain  Emmons  to  bring  along  the 
trunks,  and  some  large  and  very  mysterious-looking  pack- 
ages which  Madge  said  must  be  handled  very  carefully. 

Mrs.  Dawson  was  already  feeling  well  enough  to  sit 
bolstered  up  in  a  great  chair  by  the  fire,  and  with  the  glow 
of  happiness  on  her  face  she  began  to  look  like  a  young 
and  very  pretty  woman. 

But  the  best  of  all  was  when  Madge  came  into  the  room. 
She  gave  one  look  at  Mrs.  Dawson,  and  then  she  ran  and 
threw  her  arms  around  her  neck,  and  for  the  next  five 
minutes  all  you  could  hear  in  that  room  was  "Oh,  Hat- 
tie!"  and  "Oh,  Madge!"  until  Aunt  Sue  didn't  know  what 
to  make  of  it. 

Then  Madge,  laughing  and  crying  at  the  same  time,  ex- 
plained that  this  was  Hattie  Shaw,  her  dear,  dear,  dear 
old  companion  at  boarding-school,  whom  she  had  talked 
about  so  much,  and  always  wondered  where  she  had  van- 
ished to,  and  Aunt  Sue  declared  that  such  a  remarkable 
thing  never  happened  in  the  world  before,  and  that  it 
couldn't  have  happened  now  if  it  had  been  any  time  in  the 
year  except  Christmas-eve. 

Then  Madge  had  to  kiss  and  squeeze  Willie,  until  his 
little  cheeks  were  almost  purple.  And  the  next  thing  she 
did  was  to  open  one  of  the  trunks,  and  get  out  a  warm 
woollen  suit  of  boy's  clothes,  which  fitted  Willie  as  if  they 
had  been  made  expressly  for  him. 

Somehow  it  came  to  be  understood  among  them  all 
right  away  that  Willie  and  his  mother  would  go  on  liv- 
ing at  the  old  farm-house  just  as  if  they  had  always  be- 
longed there.  Aunt  Sue  maintained  that  ever  since 
Madge  got  married  and  went  oft0  she  had  been  "  'most  too 
lonesome  to  live";  and  that  if  Mrs.  Dawson  hadn't  come 
along  just  then,  she  didn't  think  she  could  have  stood  it 
much  longer.  And  Uncle  Tom,  with  a  very  sly  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  reminded  Willie  of  the  conversation  they  had 
had  about  the  next  haying  season. 


88 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"THEN   UNCLE    TOM    LIFTED    HER   IN   HIS    BIG,  STRONG    ARMS."— DRAWN  BT  HOWARD  PTLE. 


You  would  think  that  enough  had  happened  for  one 
day;  but  if  after  supper  you  had  seen  Aunt  Sue  and 
Madge  disappear  into  the  south  parlor,  you  would  have 
felt  sure  there  was  something  more  to  come. 

When  the  door  was  thrown  open,  how  Willie  and 
Madge's  four  boys  did  rush  in!  There  never  was  such 
a  wonderful  Christmas  tree.  It  was  just  loaded  down 
with  pretty  things.  The  toys  were  all  stood  on  the  great 
round  claw-foot  table,  and  there  were  so  many  that  Uncle 
Tom  must  have  been  busy  for  a  long  time  bringing  them 
home.  There  were  some  very  large  Noah's  arks,  some 
boxes  of  soldiers,  tin  horses  and  "wagons,  toy  steam-en- 
gines, and  no  end  of  picture-books  and  boxes  of  candy. 

The  mysterious  packages  had  been  opened,  and  proved 
to  contain  a  large  easy-chair  for  Uncle  Tom,  covered  with 
soft  leather,  and  a  gorgeous  work-table  for  Aunt  Sue,  all 
hung  around  with  little  bags  of  pink  satin  and  lace. 


There  were  so  many  toys  that  the  boys  didn't  know  what 
to  play  with  first.  Uncle  Tom  gave  Willie  one  of  the  very 
largest  Noah's  arks,  arid  he  soon  had  all  the  animals  trained 
along,  two  by  two,  on  the  carpet  near  his  mother's  chair. 
Madge's  four  boys  were  all  galloping  round  the  room, 
mounted  on  bright  red  and  yellow  sticks  with  shaggy 
horses'  heads  at  the  end,  and  Lucindy  declared  she  never 
heard  such  a  racket  in  all  her  life  before. 

When  the  bell  in  the  steeple  of  the  village  church  rang 
nine,  Uncle  Tom  took  the  large  family  Bible  from  the 
shelf  under  the  portrait  of  Madge's  grandfather,  and  the 
boys  all  grew  quiet  as  he  began  to  read  St.  Luke's  beauti- 
ful account  of  the  birth  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

The  wintry  wind  whistled  and  howled  around  the  old 
farm-house,  but  to  Willie's  happy  heart  it  sounded  like 
bright  angels  singing  of  peace  on  earth,  good-will  toward 
men! 


NG  PEOPLE. 


DECEMBER   12,  1882. 


' 


,VE  AKE  ALL  GOOD  CHILDREN." 


THE  SHRINE  OP  ST.  NICHOLAS— "  1 


FRANgOIS  FREDERIC  CHOPIN". 

BY  MRS.  JOHN  LILLIE. 

I  NEVER  hear  any  of  the  music  of  Francois  Frederic 
Chopin  without  involuntarily  thinking  of  a  scene  de- 
scribed to  me  by  an  old  friend. 

It  was  in  Paris,  when  Chopin  was  about  twenty-five 
years  of  age — a  slim,  refined-looking  young  man  with  a 
gay  smile,  though  very  melancholy  eyes — and  my  friend 
and  her  painter  cousin  met  him  in  a  market-place  buying 
violets  and  some  other  gentle  flowers,  and  then  they  all 


kvent  back  tog-other  to  his  apartment,  and  Chopin  played 
•for  them  until  nearly  evening.  He  improvised  a  little, 
tiid  would  turn  his  head  back  from  the  piano,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other,  well  knowing  the  sympathy  he 
Ivould  read  in  their  faces.  My  friend  told  me  that  her 
•memories  of  Chopin  at  the  piano  were  very  wonderful  and 
precious  to  her.  Sometimes  he  would  grow  absorbed,  and 
look  like  the  embodiment  of  some  of  his  own  most  melan- 
rholy  music,  but  his  touch  was  light  and  flexible — no  one, 
|mless  it  were  Moscheles,  or  Liszt,  or  Rubinstein,  ever 
laved  his  impromptus  as  he  did  himself. 


90 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  wished  that  my  friend  had  had  more  to  tell  me  of  that 
day  in  Paris.  Somehow,  as  I  have  said,  his  music  al- 
ways brings  it  to  mind.  I  like  to  think  of  him  buying  the 
early  spring  flowers,  and  then  going  back  with  them  for  the 
music  that  1  las  always  lived  in  my  friend's  memory— part  of 
the  man,  as  it  were,  himself,  for  Chopin's  music  is  distinctly 
like  his  own  nature.  Some  critics  think  it  overlain  with 
sentimentality,  an  element  young  players  are  very  apt  to  get 
into  their  style,  and  certainly  to  be  strictly  avoided ;  but 
Chopin,  it  seems  to  me,  had  too  much  real  genius  to  make 
this  predominate.  Everything  he  wrote  has  its  tinge  of 
melancholy;  everything  has  a  little  under-current  of  fan- 
ciful feeling,  which  breaks  out  now  and  then,  like  the  spray 
of  a  fountain,  into  something  which  ends  in  thin  air  before 
you  can  catch  all  itslights;  but  the  foundation  is  solid,  and 
when  you  play  any  of  Chopin's  music  remember  not  to  he 
carried  away  by  the  idea  that  it  is  all  to  be  expressed  iu 
lightness  and  delicacy.  Try  to  find  the  deeperthought  first, 
and  then  weave  your  daintiest  feeling  of  the  music  about  it. 

Chopin's  history  was  brief,  and  melancholy  at  the  last. 
He  was  horn  Februarys,  1810,  at  Zelazowa  -Wola,  a  Polish 
village  near  Warsaw,  and  he  died  at  Paris  in  1849.  His 
father,  who  was  French,  settled  in  Warsaw,  where  he  was 
a  professor  at  the  academy,  and  where  he  had  also  a  lirst- 
class  private  school.  Little  Frederic  was  brought  up  witli 
lads  of  refinement  and  good-breeding,  so  that,  as  a  child, 
he  saw  little  of  the  roughness  of  life.  His  mother,  who 
was  a  Polish  lady  of  extremely  sensitive  temperament, 
gave  him  his  first  ideas  of  poetry  and  romance,  and  per- 
haps from  her  he  inherited  the  tinge  of  melancholy  which 
followed  him  through  life.  But  as  a  youth  he  was  gay 
enough,  fond  of  amusements  and  all  sorts  of  fun. 

Before  lie  was  nineteen  he  had  become  a  finished  pia- 
nist, and  as  this  was  only  in  ls->.  it  was  more  of  a  feat 
than  it  could  be  now.  His  teachers  and  friends  were  anx- 
ious for  him  to  be  known  and  applauded  in  the  world, 
and  so  he  went  from  Poland  to  Vienna,  where  he  quickly 
gathered  a  circle  of  friends  about  him,  who  listened  and 
admired  as  much  as  his  dearest  masters  could  wish.  At 
this  time  every  one  interested  in  any  way  in  music,  whether 
as  an  art  or  in  performance,  was  full  of  curiosity  to  see 
and  hear  the  young  Pole,  and  when  he  arrived  in  Paris 
he  created  a  sensation  in  society  as  well  as  in  musical 
circles. 

Besides  his  art  young  Chopin  had  the  reputation  of 
being  an  enthusiastic  patriot.  The  revolution  in  Po- 
land was  just  over  :  every  one  who  came  from  that 
unhappy  country  seemed  to  have  an  air  of  romance 
about  him,  and  the  young  musician,  with  his  graceful 
beauty,  his  melancholy  eyes  and  smile,  playing  as  no  Pa- 
risian had  ever  heard  waltzes  and  polonaises  played  be- 
fore, was  naturally  a  strong  attraction  in  the  capital,  and 
so  he  was  soon  established  there,  and  gathered  a  wonder- 
ful circle  of  people  about  him.  He  knew  all  the  famous 
men  and  women  of  the  day.  If  some  people  found  him 
cold  and  sellish,  at  least  he  seems  to  have  truly  loved  some 
of  his  chosen  friends,  and  by  many,  both  among  his  pupils 
and  his  friends,  he  was  absolutely  adored. 

Unfortunately  Chopin's  health,  never  very  strong,  be- 
gan to  break  soon  after  his  twenty-fifth  year.  He  uent 
to  Majorca  to  seek  health,  but  returned  to  Paris  only  to 
hi-eak  down  again,  and  yet  he  had,  like  many  people  of  his 
artistic  nature,  an  energy  and  feverish  activity  which  kept 
him  up.  So.  in  spite  of  remonstrances,  he  went  to  Lon- 
don, played  there,  and  went  constantly  into  society,  burn- 
ing out  with  a  rush  his  feeble  little  lamp  of-  life.  He 
hastened  back  to  his  beloved  Paris,  where  a  favorite  pupil, 
M.  <  unman,  had  everything  in  readiness  for  him. 

But  Chopin's  strength  had  entirely  failed.  He  passed 
his  days  in  weariness  of  mind  and  body,  grateful  for  the 
loving  attentions  of  friends,  and  particularly  soothed  by 
music.  His  pupil  G-utman,  his  sister,  and  the  Countess 
Potocka  nursed  him  constantly,  and  they  wheeled  his 


piano  to  the  bedroom  door,  where  they  could  play  and 
sing  for  him  when  he  desired  it.  One  evening'  about  five 
o'clock  he  seemed  dying,  but  suddenly  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  looking  at  Countess  Potocka.  murmured.  "  N/m/." 

She  was  weeping'  bitterly,  hut  she  went  to  the  piano,  and 
there  sang  the  canticle  to  the  Virgin,  that  wonderful  song 
which  Haweis  tells  us  once  saved  the  life  of  Stradella. 

These  were  among  the  last  sounds  that  reached  the  mu- 
sician's ears.  He  died  the  peaceful  death  so  often  accord- 
ed to  those  who  have  suffered  much  with  his  disease,  and 
while  he  lay  in  his  last  sleep  friends  came,  filling  all  the 
room  with  flowers.  Every  one  knew  of  his  passionate 
love  for  them,  and  so  late  roses  and  early  autumn  blos- 
soms, and  even  spring  violets  and  pansies,  were  strewn 
about  him,  until  he  seemed,  they  say,  to  be  resting  in  some 
strangely  sweet  garden  of  God. 

Chopin's  great  art  was  in  his  harmonic  progressions, 
a  term  better  to  be  understood  after  some  study  of  thorough 
bass,  though  even  without  this  some  idea  of  the  meaning 
may  be  obtained,  and  improved  upon  by  studying  differ- 
ent parts  of  different  works.  A  progression  in  harmony 
is  strictly  the  following-  up  of  one  key  into  another;  and 
what  endless  beauties  may  he  wrought  in  this,  Chopin's 
music  shows  in  perfection. 

In  Chopin's  impromptus  his  peculiar  power  is  most  ev- 
ident. An  impromptu  is  a  piece  written  down,  yet  in  the 
style  of  extempore  playing,  or  i/njirorin<itt\»i.  Many  mu- 
sicians have  been  noted  for  their  tine  ideas  in  extempore 
playing.  This  is  to  take  up  some  musical  idea,  sit  down, 
and  at  the  piano  elaborate  it  just  as  the  ideas  came.  In 
impromptus  the  musician  gives  the  idea  that  lie  is  doing 
likewise,  and  the  result  in  the  music  of  Chopin  and  Schu- 
bert is  something  very  fascinating.  It  may  he  as  well  to 
say  that  Beethoven  and  Mendelssohn  never  used  this  term 
for  any  of  their  music,  but  Chopin  seems  to  have  created 
it  as  something  too  dignitied  not  to  take  a  first  place 
among  musical  significations.  When  you  can  play  with 
ease  Chopin's  impromptu  in  C  sharp  minor,  or  his  Im- 
/>ri>inj>tn  O/IIIK  36  (Opus  stands  for  work),  then  you  may 
feel  that  the  drudgery  of  linger  exercise  is  at  an  end. 


NAN,* 

HY    MRS.  JOHN*    LILLIE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S   BARGAIN,"   "  AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"I  V^HEN  the  children  went  upstairs,  Laura  Eolf  follow- 
*  *  ed  her  elder  sister  into  the  parlor,  almost  crying. 
To  her  way  of  thinking,  Nan  was  a  real  little  intruder.  It 
was  she  who  had  been  hitherto  old  Miss  Rolf's  favorite,  she 
who  had  been  treated  with  most  deference  when  she  came 
to  the  house;  and  the  idea  of  this  queer,  vulgar  girl  com- 
ing in  to  take  her  place  was  unbearable. 

The  parlor  looked  rather  gloomy  on  this  rainy  May  aft- 
ernoon. Even  cheerful  Phyllis  felt  it.  While  Laura  sat 
sulkily  in  the  window,  she  drew  near  to  the  little  smoul- 
derini:'  tire,  and  tried  to  divert  her  mind  by  reading.  It 
would  have  been  agreat  comfort  to  Phyllis  had  she  known 
just  how  to  help  and  govern  her  younger  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, but  unfortunately  her  life  had  been  led  with  no  stand- 
ards for  human  conduct.  Her  father  was  a  happy,  idle 
man.  who  cared  only  for  his  own  pleasure  and  comfort. 

Her  sisters  and  brothers  had  been  left  wholly  to  her 
guidance.  This  was  well  enough  while  the  children 
were  very  young;  but  now  they  were  growing  older,  be- 
ginning to  develop  instincts  and  ideas  and  have  purposes 
of  their  own.  Phyllis  would  not  have  admitted  it  to  her- 
self, but  sometimes  she  felt  dismayed,  having  no  rock  of 
guidance — no  place  to  go  and  seek  the  help  she  needed. 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


II::I-KMI:I:!:  i-j.  1882 


IIAKl'KU'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


While  Laura  sulked  in  tlio  window.  heating  her  heels 
against  the  wainscot  and  tryinir  to  pout  as  visibly  as  pos- 
sible. Phyllis  .-at  down  by  the  tin-  with  a  1 k  in  her  hand, 

which  -In- could  not  read.  Then  Laura  l""jan: 

"I  do  think.  Phyllis,  this  is  disgraceful.  The  idea  of 
('onsin  I,rlly'>  havinir  to  hunt  alioul  for  sonic  one  to  be 
her  heiress.  I  <t<>  think  it's  Ion  mean." 

Laura  paused.  Phyllis  turned  her  linely  cut.  sweet 
face  around  toward  the  window,  where  the  rain  heat,  and 

where  her  little  sister  was  sitting,  the  picture  of  wrath  and 

ill  temper. 

"And  I'm  sure  we'll  all  he  ashamed  of  her."  Laura 
went  on.  "How-  can  we  help  it  '.  Right  out  of  such  a 

set  :" 

"Laura."  said  Phyllis,  suddenly  standing  up.  "there 
no  N( 7.  as  you  call  it.alioiit  it.  This  child  is  \oiir 
cousin  (|iiite  as  inuch  a-  siie  is  tin-  niece  of  tho-e  Ruperts. 
and  I  think  it  wicked  of  you  Io  fee  I  like  that.  I — 

And  then  the  d •  Opened  Upon  Nan  her-elf.  She  had 

come  down,  breath le-s.  from  the  attic,  and  just  the  si- -lit  of 
(  'on  sin  I'liyllis's  face  seemed  to  cheer  her  as  she  came  into 
the  room.  Laura  turned  a  ilutely  pressing  her 

face  against  the  window-pane.  She' was  determined  that, 
at  all  events,  this  interloper  should  not  m  ike  friends  with 

"her. 

Nan  stooil  -till  a  nioinent  in  the  doorway.  Sin-  had  on 
the  brown  dress  Ph\  His  had  U.ii^hl  her.  and  with  dainty 
hire  frill-  in  her  neck  and  sleeve-,  and  with  that  sweet. 
kindly  look  upon  her  face,  she  looked  anything  but  the 
vulgar  interloper  which  La  HIM  had  considered  her. 

"I've  come  for-  (  'oii-in  Laura."  she  said,  timidly. 
".loan  says  you  could  tell  us  such  a  lovely  story  if  you 
would.  Will  yon  plca-e.  Laura  '." 

Phyllis  said  nothing.      Laura  turned  a  very  contemptu- 
ous   gaze    around    upon    her    unwelcome    cousin,    but    the 
darkening  color  al  her  hack  quite  hid  her  face.       Y, 
only  tin-  prett\.  waving  blonde  hair,  the  outline  o! 
and  chin  so  like  Phyllis'.-. 

"  Will    \  oil          she   repeated. 

"  Yes."  said   Laura.      She  Lfot   up.  -till   very  sullenly,  a  nil 

walked  loward  the  d '.       Pliyllis  knew  she  was  in  a   bad 

temper. 

"  Laura  I"  she  called  out.  but  the  door  clo-ed,  and. 
whether  she  heard  or  not.  Laura  walked  on  entirely  un- 
mindful of  the  voice. 

"They  are  in  the  attic."  said  Nan.  on  the  staircase. 

"  All  riirht."  rejoined  Laura.  It  was  all  that  she  would 
say  until  the  attic  was  reached.  The  children  greeted  her 
tumultuous! y.  but  by  this  time  Nan  had  be^iin  to  feel  very 
uncomfortable,  for  it  was  clearly  evident  that  her  cou-in 
Laura  was  quite  unlike  Phyllis  or  .loan.  Nan  felt  she 
might  admire  her.  but  could  she  ever  lure  her  .'  And 
Nan,  who  never  before  had  known  the  a—  ociat  ion  of  COUS 
ins  whom  she  felt  were  well-bred  ami  relined.  IOIIL  'I  to 
in: ike  herself  at  once  one  with  I  he-e  "-iris. 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  stairs  Laura  drew 
back  a  moment,  but  Joan  sprang  forward,  exclaiming, 

"  Led  lie  !   Lollie  !  do  come  and  tell  us  a  nice  story  '." 

Laura  frowned.  She  hung  back  against  the  railing  of 
the  staircase  for  a  moment  before  she  decided  to  join  the 
group  above. 

Joan  evidently  valued  Laura's  capacity  for  tellin--  -to 
ries.  She  placed  an  easy-chair,  and  commanded  the  chil- 
dren to  be  silent,  while  she  motioned  Nan  imperiously  to 
the  next  best  seat,  she  herself  coddling  against  Laura's 
knee.  All  this  seemed  to  mollify  Laura,  who  looked  out 
upon  the  little  rain-washed  garden  below  the  window,  and 
then  said: 

"I'll  tell  a  new  story  I've  just  made  up." 

"Um — uni — um."  murmured  Joan,  convulsively  clutch- 
ing Laura's  knee.  "You  see,"  she  added,  looking  up  at 
Nan,  "Laura  is  perfectly  wonderful  about  stories." 

"Well,"  began  Laura,  "there  was  once  a  princess"— 


-lie  paused  now  and  then  to  think  it  over  "  w  ho  didn't 
know  exactly  where  she  was  from;  that  is.  she  knew  sin- 
was  a  princess,  and  had  a  riirht  to  a  crown,  yet  she  eon  hint 
tell  how  it  was.  One  day  an  old  fairy  appeared  to  bel- 
aud said.  'Come  home  with  me;  I  am  your  guardian  genie, 
and  1  have  care  of  your  fortunes.'  And  so  she  took  her 
to  a  wonderful  palace  all  loaded  with  precious  stones,  and 
where  the  princess  had  everything.  She  had  all  she 
liked,  or  imagined  she  could  care  for.  And  so  she  lived 
on  and  on.  and  the  fairy  loved  her  and  treated  her  like 
her  own  chihl.  Well,  on:-  ilay  she  went  out  for  a  walk  ill 
the  by-ways — 

"  What  are  the  by-ways  :"  interrupted  Alfred. 

"I'.y  ways  an-  streets  belonging  to  princesses."  said 
Joan,  giving  Alfred's  foot  a  push  with  her  own.  "  l>on't 
interrupt." 

"Well,  i/nii  interrupt,  miss."  grumbled  Alfred. 

Laura  went  on:  "When  the  prince—  returned  from  her 
walk  she  found  the  whole  palace  changed:  the  servants 

and  everybody  refused  to  let  her  in.  They  said  she  was  a 
men-  iiu/li/iii/."  and  here  Laura  curled  her  lips  disdain- 
fully as  pos-ihlc;  "that  the  fairy  had  now  a  new  favor- 
ite. This  made  the  prince—  crj  verj  hard,  but  she  sat 
down  outside  the  gates,  and  a-  every  one  would  come  out, 
she  asked  somethinir  about  the  fairy's  new  favorite,  and 
she  was  ili'/ii/h/nl  to  hear  she  was  very  unhappy.  So 
time  went  on.  and 

lien-  Laura's  story  suddenly  came  to  a  close,  for  Miss 
Rolf's  voice  was  heard  below,  and  Alfred  the  <  i  real  sprang 
up.  exclaiming: 

"  Tea  lea.      I  know  !" 

Laura  rose  with  a  very  grand  air.  and  Joan  said, 
"  I  didn't   feel  much  int.  n  -1< -d  in  that  story,  anyway." 
"Well. ".-aid  Laura,  sharply,  "it  would  have  been  verv 
interesting,  and,  "she  added,  with  a  glance  at  Nan,  "it  was 

about   //•//.'  i  n  iifilf." 

Nan  stooil  up  with  the  others,  and,  catching  Laura's 
meaning  ulance,  she  wondered  just  what  it  was  intended 
for.  Perhaps,  she  thought.  Laura  would  explain  it  later. 

L'omp  a-  i  ln-\   would,  the  cousins  knew  thai  Miss  Rolf 

expected  them  to  look  neat  and  clean  when  they  came  to 
the  table.  So  they  all  trooped  down  to  Nan's  mom.  w  here 
Laura  looked  at  everything  very  critically,  while  the 
younger  ones  washed  their  hands. 

'  Nan."  .loan  whispered,  "  we'll  have  to  go  down  and 
see  I'oiisin  Letty  tirst  before-  lea.  and  we  must  walk  as 
straight  as  straight!" 

-loan's  face  puckered  comical  I  y  as  she  said  this,  and  Nan 
red    by   a    ti<_rht    bug.      The    two    walked    down    the 
stairs  arm   in  arm.  and  so  entered  the  long,  old  fashioned 
drawing  room  where  Miss  Rolf  and  Phyllis  were  seated. 

Nans  I  it  tie  face  was  beaming,  and  in  spite  of  her  cold- 
nes-  i, 111  Miss  Rolf  looked  at  the  child  with  a  pleased  air. 
She  liked  the  smile  and  the  gladness  about  Nan's  mouth 
and  eyes.  She  put  her  hand  out,  drew  Nan  toward  her, 
and  kissed  her  more  tenderly  than  ever  before.  Then  she 
turned  to  Laura,  saying: 

''Well,  dear,  how  are  you  to-day?  Haven't  you  a 
word  for  your  old  cousin  C 

Nan  had  never  heard  Miss  Rolf's  voice  so  gentle,  nor 
had  she  ever  seen  her  look  just  as  she  did  at  Laura.  It 
was  very  evident  that  Laura  was  her  favorite. 

"  Oh,"  said  Laura,  laughing,  "I've  plenty  to  say,  Cous- 
in Letty;  but  I  don't  suppose  I'm  any  consequence  now." 

She  knelt  dow  n  by  the  old  lady,  who  smoothed  her  fail- 
hair  softly,  while  Nan  and  the  others  walked  over  to  the 
big,  low  window  which  overlooked  one  portion  of  the  gar- 
dens. An  animated  though  whispered  conversation  went 
on.  Joan  had  decided  that  she  would  tell  Nan  what  she 
called  the  "secret,"  and  Alfred  tried  to  rebel  against  it. 

Meanwhile  Nail  sat  curled  up  in  one  end  of  the  win- 
dow .  trying  to  suppress  her  desire  to  laugh,  and  Joan, 
kneeling  down  in  front  of  her,  and  pressing  her  elbows 


92 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"AN   ANIMATED    TIIOUtiH    WHISPERED    CONVERSATION   WENT   ON.' 


into  Nan's  knees,  held  her  thin  little  face  in  her  hands, 
and  looked  unutterable  thing's  at  Alfred. 

' '  I  will  tell,"  said  Joan,  in  a  determined  whisper.  ' '  Nan, 
see  here :  we  belong  to  a  society ;  it's  us  all  and  some  of 
our  friends,  and  early  in  June  you  can  be  inshated." 

"In-itiatecl,"  corrected  Alfred. 

"Well,  whatever  you  call  it,"  said  Joan,  with  a  toss  of 
her  head ;  "and  then  it  will  be  great  fun !" 

Nan's  eyes  danced.  "Oh,  won't  it!"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Is  it  hard  to  be  in— initiated  ?" 

Joan  smiled  in  a  superior  manner.  "  Oh" — she  looked 
at  Alfred — "I  should  say  it  was!  But,  Nan,"  she  added, 
quietly,  "  we  won't  make  it  rery  frightening.  At  least  it 
has  to  be  some  frightening,  but  we'll  do  our  best." 

[TO  BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE  TURKEY'S  MISTAKE. 

BY  F.  E.  HAMILTON. 

THE  day  after  Thanksgiving  young  Red  Cap,  the  gob- 
bler, called  a  meeting.     It  was  held  back  of  the  chick- 
en-house.    Red  Cap  sat  on  the  fence,  and  acted  as  chair- 
man.    Wiping  his  eyes  with  one  wing,  he  said: 

"Dear  turkeys,  ducks,  and  chickens,  we  meet  as  a  party 
of  mourners.  You  all  remember  that  only  one  week  ago 
my  father  and  mother  were  with  us:  now  they  are  gone! 
One  week  ago  Dickey  Daddles's  handsome  sisters  were 


here  :  now  they  are  gone !  One  week  ago 
Speckle,  the  rooster,  and  Cluck,  Scratch, 
and  Cackle,  three  of  his  wives,  were  with 
us:  now  they  are  gone!  My  friends, 
why  is  this?  You  all  know:  Thanksgiv- 
ing dinner!  The  blow  is  terrible,  but 
even  in  our  sorrow  we  must  think  of  our- 
selves. Thanksgiving- time  is  bad,  but 
Christmas-time  is  worse.  Seven  have 
disappeared  from  our  happy  flock  in  a 
week :  who  knows  how  soon  as  many 
more  may  go  ?  We  must  do  something 
to  protect  ourselves,  or  we  are  lost." 
Top  Knot,  the  drake,  arose. 
"I  am  not  a  coward,"  he  said,  "but  I 
agree  with  Red  Cap.  Something  must 
be  done.  Has  any  one  anything  to 
propose  ?  I  should  like  to  hear  Mother 
Gray's  views  upon  this  subject." 

Mother  Gray  was  the  oldest  hen  in  the 
yard.  With  a  little  cackle,  she  flew  to 
the  top  rail  of  the  fence : 

' '  My  dear  companions,  we  have  felt 
the  cruel  hand  of  man  among  us.  We 
have  seen  two  great  boys  come  into  our 
house  after  dark  with  a  frightful  lantern, 
and  seize  and  carry  away  our  beloved 
relatives  by  the  legs  while  we  all  squalled 
dismally.  We  have  seen  those  relatives 
no  more;  but  from  suspicious  feathers 
floating  about  the  yard,  and  from  stains 
upon  the  chopping-block,  we  may  easily 
conclude  what  was  their  cruel  fate :  they 
have  been  killed  and  eaten.  As  Mr.  Top 
Knot  says,  something  must  be  done.  I 
can  think  of  but  one  thing.  My  dear 
friends,  if  we  do  not  wish  to  be  killed 
and  eaten,  as  our  lost  ones  have  been,  we 
must  flee  to  the  woods." 

Dickey  Daddies,  a  young  and  impu- 
dent duckling,  leaned  toward  Henny 
Penny,  his  companion,  and  whispered: 
"  Old  Mother  Gray  needn't  flee.  Nobody 
'11  try  to  eat  her:  she's  too  tough." 

An    ancient   goose,   the    only    one    of 
the  flock  remaining,  heard  this  naughty 
speech,  and  hissed  sharply.      Dickey  and  Henny  chuckled 
together  slyly. 

"  I  am  of  the  notion,"  said  Red  Legs,  who  was  a  son 
of  old  Speckle,  the  rooster,  "that  Mother  Gray's  advice 
is  good.  But  I  am  also  told  by  those  who  have  greater 
experience  than  myself  that  Thanksgiving -day  having 
passed,  no  great  danger  comes  until  Christmas -time. 
Now  if  any  one  can  tell  when  Christmas-time  is,  I  move 
that  we  remain  here  in  our  comfortable  quarters  until 
the  day  before,  and  then  flee  until  the  hour  of  peril  is 
past.  If  we  go  away  now,  we  may  starve,  or  freeze  to 
death,  or  the  foxes  may  catch  us;  whereas  if  we  wait,  our 
absence  may  be  much  shorter  and  less  dangerous." 

"Good  !  good!"  gobbled  the  turkey  from  where  he  sat. 
"I  can  tell  when  Christmas-time  comes,  and  I  will  give 
good  warning.  Let  us  decide  to  remain  until  the  last  mo- 
ment of  safety,  and  then  disappear." 

The  hens  cackled  assent,  and  the  ducks  joined  them, 
but  Miss  Goose  stepped  daintily  forward,  and  stretching 
her  long  neck,  said,  in  a  hissing  tone, 

"May  I  ask  my  young'  friend  how  he  knows  when 
Christmas-time  comes  ?  In  a  matter  so  important  we  can 
not  be  too  particular." 

Red  Cap  raised  his  comb  angrily,  and  stared  at  Miss 
Goose. 

"Age,"  he  replied,  in  a  husky  voice,  "is  supposed  to 
bring  knowledge,  and  I  should  therefore  think  my  fair 


DECEMBER  1-2,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


93 


questioner  able  to  judge  for  lierself.  However,  to  quiet 
all  doubts,  I  will  state  that  I  overheard  little  Tommy  up 
at  the  house  say  thai  (  'hristmas  came  on  the  twenty-fifth 
of  the  mouth.  I  am  sure, "he  continued,  triumphantly, 
"  that  no  one  can  doubt  as  good  authority  as  thai." 

There  was  a  general  cry  of  agreement,  Henny  Penny 
and  Dickey  Daddies  shouting,  "Put  her  out!  put  her 
out  !"  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and  the  meeting  dispersed 
Avilh  the  understanding  that  they  were  to  remain  in  peace 
and  quietness  until  warned  by  Red  Cap,  the  gobbler,  of 
the  approach  of  the  fatal  day. 

Time  passed.  The  snow  came  and  covered  the  ground 
with  its  blanket  cold  and  white,  and  the  wind  howled 
dismally.  Night  after  night  the  fowls  gathered  undis- 
turbed in  their  cni'.y  house,  and  chuckled  in  low  tones  to 
themselves  that  they  were  safely  sheltered.  Xo  one  wor- 
ried about  the  coin  ing  Christmas-time,  for  the  gobbler  knew 
the  date,  and  would  surely  tell  them  in  season  to  escape. 

One  day — it  was  nearly  a  month  after  the  time  of  the 
meeting — a  great  storm  arose,  and  the  wild  snow  swept  in 
white  clouds  through  the  air,  drifting  about  the  yard,  and 
half  covering  the  hen-house,  so  that  its  inmates  were  com- 
pelled to  content  themselves  with  hopping  from  roost  to 
roost,  or  scratching  among  the  dry  grass-seed  on  the  floor, 
for  they  did  not  dare  to  venture  out. 

Night  came  early  down,  and,  tired  enough  of  their  con- 
finement, the  fowls  were  willing  to  tuck  their  heads  be- 
neath their  wings,  as  its  first  long  shadows  appeared. 
Soon  silence  and  sleep  i-eigned — but  not  over  all.  Red 
Cap,  the  gobbler,  was  awake.  His  mind  was  troubled, 
and  he  could  not  sleep.  All  day  he  had  noticed  an  un- 
usual stir  up  at  the  house.  People  coming  and  going 


through  the  storm,  and  teams  driven  into  the  great  barn. 
What  was  going  on  ? 

Suddenly  a  new  and  terrible  idea  occurred  to  him. 
Quickly  jumping  to  the  floor,  he  hurried  toward  a  corner 
where  he  had  hidden  certain  kernels  of  corn,  one  for  each 
day  since  Thanksgiving.  Hastily  he  searched  for  them, 
but  in  vain.  With  a  wild  gobble  he  awoke  his  friends. 

''Save  yourselves!  Save  yourselves!  Something  is 
wrong!  The  corn  by  which  I  was  counting  the  days  has 
been  eaten !  This  may  be  the  twenty-fourth  of  the  month  ! 
To-morrow  may  be — indeed,  I  fear  that  it  is — Christ 

Ife  was  interrupted  by  a  loud  banging  at  the  door;  it 
opened,  and  by  the  light  of  a  frightful  lantern  the  terror- 
stricken  Red  Cap  and  his  friends  saw  two  horrible  boys 
enter. 

"We  are  lost!  We  are  lost!"  cried  the  poor  turkey. 
"Christmas  has  come !  Flee  for  your  lives !" 

But  it  was  too  late.  Seized  in  spite  df  his  struggles, 
brave  Red  Cap  was  borne  away,  together  with  two  of  the 
ducks.  Dickey  Daddies  and  another,  and  five  of  the  hens, 
among  them  naughty  Henny  Penny.  Then  the  boys  and 
the  light  disappeared,  the  door  was  closed,  and  the  inmates 
of  the  house  were  once  again  left  in  darkness. 

Hid  then  from  behind  a  barrel  in  the  corner  came  the 
voice  of  Miss  Goose,  laughing  scornfully. 

"Age  is  supposed  to  bring  knowledge,  but  geese  are 
knoirn  to  eat  corn  !''  she  hissed.  "My  sorrowing  friends, 
vanity  is  not  as  good  as  experience.  Had  they  listened 
to  Mother  Gray  and  me,  Red  Cap  and  his  young  friends 
would  now  be  alive  and  in  safety,  instead  of  hanging  by 
the  legs  waiting  to  be  cooked  for  to-morrow's  Christmas 
dinner!" 


"SEIZED   IN   SPITE   OF   HIS    STRUGGLES,   BRAVE    RED    CAP   WAS    BORNE    AWAY." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Christmas  Number 

OF 

HAKPEK'S  TOTING  PEOPLE. 

DECEMBER  19,  1882. 

/CHRISTMAS  is  coming!  How  many  weeks 
vy  have  you  been  thinking  about  it,  little  people? 
A  good  many,  hare  you  not  ?  Well,  now,  how 
long  do  yon  suppose  the  publishers  of  HARPER'S 
YOCM:  PEOPLE  have  been  thinking  about  it?  How 
you  will  laugh  when  we  tell  you  that  last  August, 
•when  it  was  so  warm  that  people  went  about  in 
straw  hats,  waving  fans,  and  cooling  themselves 
with  Ic.ng  draughts  of  ice-water,  the  publishers 
of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  had  already  begun  to 
consider  what  should  be  done  for  Christmas. 
Wasn't  that  an  early  start?  You  were  eating 
peaches  and  bathing  in  the  surf,  and  we  were 
here,  hard  at  work,  getting  ready  for  Christina". 
Well,  now  you  see  what  comes  from  all  this  ac- 
tivity  and  industry.  Old  Santa Olaus,  easy-going 
and  lazy,  hasn't  begun  to  think  of  harnessing  his 
reindeers  yet,  and  here  are  we  all  ready  to  give 
you  rich  feasts  of  Christmas  fun  two  weeks  be- 
fmv  the  time.  This  week  you  will  see  that  HAR- 
PER'S YOI-NG  PEOPLE  is  nearly  all  given  over  to 
Christmas,  and  yet  it  is  only  a  foretaste  of  what 
we  have  in  store  for  you  when  the  "Christmas 
Number"  appears.  Next  week  open  your  eyes 
wide,  and  look  out  for  "The  Christmas  Number 
of  HARPER'S  Yorso  PEOPLE."  You  remember 
what  it  has  been  in  other  years. and  this  year  it 
will  lie  better  than  ever.  Mother  Goose  and  San- 
ta Claus  will  come  flying  along  on  the  cover :  Miss 

Sophie     Swett     will    trll     Voll    a    delightful     story 

:il»  iii!  "The  Girl  wlio  Saved  I'p  Christmas"  :  Jim- 
my Brown  will  describe  the  awful  scrape  he  n 
into,  all  through  the  "Snow  ltan"heandthe  other 
boys  built  on  Christmas-eve  :  Mr.  Will  Carleton 
will  tell  you  a  lovely  story  in  verse  of  what  came 
to  a  little  girl  through  "A  Christmas  Prayer"; 
Mr.  Matthew  White.  .lun..  has  a  charming  story 
1,1  tell  a  I  HUH  a  young  boy  who  was  "  A  Christmas 
Knight":  and  Miss  olive  Wilson  will  give  you  a 
delightful  little  play  called  "The-  old  Woman  in 
the  slioe."  which  you  can  all  get  up  without  dif- 
ficulty for  Christinas-eve  or  some  other  pleasant 
holiday-time. 

Then,  last  hut  not  least.  Mrs.  Margaret  Sang- 
ster  will  give  you  a  "Christmas  Carol,"  which 
has  been  set  to  sweet  and  simple  music.  Many 
of  you  can  play,  and  nearly  all  of  you,  we  kn,  >\v. 
can  sing.  Now  will  you  not  Irani  Ibis  carol,  ant) 
sing  it  at  least  once  during  the  happy  holiday  sea- 
son in  simple,  humble  adoration  ol  the  Heavenly 
Babe  to  whose  birth  we  owe  the  glorious  flood- 
tide  of  joy  that  is  now  sweeping  over  the  world? 
\W  would  like  to  think  that  in  all  the  fun  ami 
merriment,  among  the  trees  and  turkeys,  tin 
laughter  and  the  games,  not  one  little  heart  has 
forgotten  the  wonderful  story  first  told  to  men 
by  angels  on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem  : 

"  UNTO  YOU  is  BORN  THIS  DAT  IN  THE  CITV  or 
DAVID  A  SAVIOUR,  WHICH  is  CHRIST  THE  LORD." 


BBOOKLYN,  NEW  YOHK. 

How  delighted  we  are.  dear  Postmistress,  tha 
you  have  proposed  having  a  sort  of  grand  con 
ference  whereby  we. 'an  assist  each  other  in  mak 
ing  presents  for  the  coming  Christmas!  We  take 
great  pleasure  in  contributing  the  little  we  know 
To  make  gifts  with  as  little  expense  as  p,,~ ihl 
will,  we  presume,  he  a  matter  of  Importance  w  ill 
most  of  us  little  girls,  as  we  all  have  quite  a  nuir 
her  of  relatives,  and  we  don't  want  to  leave  an 
of  them  out  in  the  cold  on  Christinas  morning. 

First,  get  some  old  honey  or  mustard  b.  .1 1  li 
select  those  that  have  a  nice  shape  ;  paint  thei 
(by  pairs i  either  in  terra  cotta.  black,  or  a  ver 
pale  shade  of  olive  :  when  thoroughly  dry.  tone 
the  neck  ami  top  with  gold  paint  i  finish  with 
some  preiu   -erap  picture  pasted  on  the  front. 
Vm   will   lie  richly  IT  warded  for  your  trouble 
when  you  see  what  a  tasty  pair  of  rases  you  have 
made.     A  box  of  gold  paint   can  In-   bought    for 
twenty-live'  or  thirty  cents,  and  with  it  you  can 
work  wonders.     It  adds  greatly  to  the  beauty  of 
plaques  to  touch  their  outer  rim  with  gold  paint. 

If  you  have  a  fancy  straw  hat  that  is  out  of 
season,  rip  it  to  pieces,  being  careful  not  to  cut 


he  braid  :  cut  a  piece  of  pasteboard  the  shape  of 

cornucopia:  slightly  dampen  the  straw,  and 
cw  on  the  pasteboard  in  rows  overlapping  each 
ther;  when  dry,  give  it  one  or  two  thin  coats  of 
old  paint ;  line  the  inside  with  pale  blue  silesia  ; 
rim  the  top  edge  with  a  row  of  red  pleated  rib- 
ton,  join  neatly  in  the  back,  put  a  loop  at  the 
op  to  hang  up  by,  and  a  bow  and  ends  of  ribbon 
,11  tin-  lower  point.  This  will  be  an  elegant  hair- 
eceiver  for  mamma. 

Get  a  stout  round  box  about  as  large  as  a  tea 
aucer  and  three  or  four  inches  deep  :  coyer  neat- 
y  inside  with  pale  blue  or  old  gold  silesia;  paste 
a  scrap  picture  (in  the  inside  of  the  cover:  cut 
rat  of  cardinal  Canton  flannel  a  round  piece  for 
he  outride  of  the  cover,  or  use,  if  you  prefer  it. 
either  silk,  satin,  or  velvet:  put  a  straight  band 
of  the  material  around  the  side  of  the  cover,  and 
stitch  lining  and  outside  together  on  the  edge 
vith  old  gold  embroidery  silk;  fasten  a  strip 
around  the  bottom  part  in  the  same  manner,  and 
inish  witha  fancy  ribbon  put  straight  around  the 
lottom  [tart,  and  fastened  on  one  side:  a  bow 
on  the  top  of  the  cover  completes  a  cuff-box  for 
>apa.  A  set  may  be  made — one  box  for  collars, 
and  one  for  curl's.  A  box  of  this  kind  makes  a 
.iretty  receptacle  for  tobacco. 

Beautiful  tidies  can  be  coaxed  out  of  cast-off 
•ibbons.  Take  two  strips  six  or  ten  inches  long, 
according  to  width  :  sew  lace  insertion  between 
he  two  strips  of  ribbon,  and  finish  witli  lace  edg- 
ing all  around.  The  ribbon  strips  may  be  im- 
proved by  embroidery.  Patterns  may  be  traced 
in  ribbons  or  squares  of  poplin  or  satin  by  the 
aid  of  carbon  paper. 

School  bags  may  be  crocheted  out  of  macrarae 
cord,  and  they  are  both  durable  and  pretty.  The 
things  that  can  be  made  from  the  bright  and  pret- 
ty Canton  flannels  are  indeed  wonderful— small 
table  spreads,  .stand  and  chair  scarfs,  and  uu- 
merous  graceful  article*  useful  in  a  home. 

We  •fear  that  by  I  his  time  the  dear  Postmistress 

is  looking  tierce.'    We  will  give  you  just  one  idea 

if  a  chair  si -art',  and  from  this  you  can  form  many 
others,  cut  some  cardinal  Canton  flannel  the 
length  and  width  the  chair  requires :  a  piece  of 
old  gold  flannel  is  put  acro-sthc  end  eight  inches 

on  one  side  and  thr n  the  other. am!  sew  Inr- 

nitiire  fringe-  across  tl nd  ;  where  the  two  col 

ors  join  turn  in  the  raw  edge,  ami  work  with  silk 
(red  shaded-  in  herring-bone  stitch.  The  edge  of 
the  sides  is  finished  in  the  same  manner :  or  nar- 
row velvet  is  laid  on  tin'  edge'  liivt.  and  then 
worked  with  fancy  silk  in  herring-bone.  Cre- 
tonnes may  be  used  with  pleading  effect. 

G  I:\CK  and  MABEL  D. 

You  dear  little  women,  how  can  you  imagine 
that  a  Postmistress  could  look  anything  but  de- 
lighted with  so  bright  and  so  well-cxprc— cd  a 
letter  as  this.  You  have'  described  a  number  of 
pretty  gifts  so  very  plainly  that  I  think  a  good 
many  small  fingers  will  set  to  work  to  see  what 
lovely  tiling-  they  can  contrive  from  odds  and 
ends  by  the  aid  of  a  little  home  magic  and  a  few 
inexpensive  materials. 


If  the  trouble  must  come,  and  you  are  not  in 
any  way  the  offending  party,  then  stand  up  for 
your  rights.  If  they  should  attack  you,  your  cap- 
tain must  fir-t  be  sure,  like  a  good  general,  that 
his  forces  are  strong  enough  to  meet  the  aggress- 
ors, and  then,  if  possible,  drive  them  away,  and 
frighten  them  so  thoroughly  that  they  will  never 
annoy  you  again. 

Have  you  ever  heard  what  Thomas  Hughes  has 
to  say  on  this  subject  in  "Tom  Brown's  School 
Days"  ?— a  book  which  every  boy  should  read : 

"After  all.  what  would  life  be  without  fight- 
ing, I  should  like  to  know '!  From  the  cradle  to 
the  grave,  fighting,  rightly  understood,  is  the 
business— the  real,  highest,  honestest  business — 
of  every  son  of  man.  Every  one  who  is  worth 
his  salt  "has  his  enemies,  who  must  be  beaten,  be 
they  evil  thoughts  and  habits  in  himself,  or  spir- 
itual wickednesses  in  high  places,  or  Russians,  or 
Border-ruffians,  or  Bill,  Tom.  or  Harry,  who  will 
not  let  him  live  his  life  in  quiet  till  he  has  thrashed 
them .... 

"  As  to  fighting— keep  out  of  it  if  you  can.  by 
all  means.  When  the  time  comes,  if  it  ever 
should,  that  you  have  to  say  'Yes'  or  'No'  to  a 
challenge  to  fight,  say  '  No.'  if  you  can— only  take 
care  \ •«  >u  make  it  clear  to  yourselves  why  you  say 
'No.'  It's  a  proof  of  the  highest  courage,  if  done 
from  true  Christian  motives.  It's  quite  right  and 
justifiable,  if  done  from  a  simple  aversion  to  phys- 
ical pa  in  and  danger.  I'.nt  don't  say  '  No' because 
you  fear  a  licking,  and  say  or  think  it's  because 
you  fear  God.  for  that's  neither  Christian  nor 
honest.  And  if  you  do  fight,  fight  it  out  ;  and 
don't  give  in  while  you  can  stand  and  see." 


GRKKNrrHVT,  NKW   YORK. 

The  boys  in  our  street  have  a-ked  me  to  write 
to  the  Postmistress,  and  ask  her  what  she  thinks 
about  fighting.  There,  is  a  set  of  fellows  from 
another  part  of  the  town  who  keep  coming  at  us, 
and  attacking  us  with  clubs  and  stones,  when- 
ever they  get  a  chance.  Father  says  it  they  don't 
stop  they'll  find  themselves  arrested  soon,  for 
they  have  broken  some  windows  and  carried  off 
area  covers.  He  says  we  must  ask  the  policemen 
to  drive  them  off.  Mother  wants  to  win  them 
over  by  kindness,  and  she  and  some  other  ladies 
are  going  to  get  up  a  Christmas  tree,  or  some- 
thing like  that,  to  please  them.  1  sha'n't  go  to 
it.  But  we  boys  think  the  best  way  will  be  to 
ha\  6  a  fair  square  light,  and  settle  the  business. 
We  mean  to  tight  and  drive  them  off.  and  our 
captain.  Harry  II,.  isn't  afraid  of  anybody.  Please 
tell  us  your  opinion.  Charlie  K.  writes  this,  but 
we  all  ioin  in  signing  our  names. 

CIIAHLIE  1!.,  JOHN  N".,  JOHN  s.,  and  FRANK  T. 

I  suppose  if  I  say  that  I  agree  with  your  mo- 
thers that  in  the  long-run  nothing  succeeds  like 
kindness,  you  will  say :  "  There  !  just  what  we 
expected  from  the  Postmistress !  Women  never 
approve  of  lighting  for  one's  rights!"  I  own, 
boys,  that  I  dislike  all  rough  quarrels,  and  think 
that  they  should  be  avoided  if  possible.  And 
yet  there  are  times  when  it  is  necessary  to  show 
that  a  boy  has  courage  and  pluck.  I  am  afraid 
that  you  have  hurt  the  feelings  of  those  boys  by 
acting  as  though  you  were  better  than  they. 
Perhaps  yon  have  aroused  their  anger  by  boasts, 
or  by  daring  them  to  come  on  your  ground.  I 
would  not  fight  if  it  can  be  helped  ;  but  if  obliged 
to  light,  I  would,  if  I  were  a  boy,  do  my  part  man- 
fully. If  I  saw  a  boy  of  my  size  ill  treating  a  lit- 
tle one.  do  you  think  I  would  walk  off  and  not 
interfere  ';  And  if  I  saw  a  crowd  of  boys  worry- 
ing a  poor  dog  or  pn^y  eat.  wouldn't  I  go  to  the 
rescue?  That  I  would.  And  I  would  not  join  in 
the  wicked  merriment  of  ill-bred  boys  who  make 
fun  of  people  because  they  are  not  quite  bright  in 
their  minds,  or  have  a  defect  of  some  kind. 


PETERSBURG,  VIRGINIA. 

Please  tell  me  what  you  charge  for  putting  an 
exchange  in  your  paper. 

I  go  to  school.  I  am  in  Division  of  Fractions. 
1  got  a  paper  from  Indian  Territory  to-day.  I 
get  plenty  of  papers,  and  stay  in  the  house  at 
night  and  read  them  and  study  my  lessons. 

CLATTON  S.  T. 

There  is  no  charge  for  the  insertion  of  an  ex- 
change. 

<  >ne  sentence  in  your  letter  pleases  me  so  very 
much.  Clayton,  that  I  must  call  the  attention  of 
the  boys  to  it.  It  is  that  you  spend  your  evenings 
in  the  house  studying  and  reading.  This  is  a 
much  better  and.  on  the  whole  a  happier,  way 
of  spending  them  than  those  boys  have  who  are 
not  contented  with  merry  play  by  daylight,  but 
want  to  go  out  evenings  as  well. 

Did  you  ever  hear  a  jingle  I  used  to  say  when 
I  went  to  school : 

"Multiplication  is  vexation. 

Hivi-ion's  just  as  bad. 
The  Rule  of  Three  it  puzzles  me. 
But  FRACTIONS  drive  me  mad"? 


NAPLES,  ITALY. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old,  and  love  fun 
and  novelty,  and  I  would  like  to  tell  the  little 
boys  and  girls  in  America  about,  a  fair  which  was 
held  in  the  public  garden  here  in  Naples  for  the 
n -lief  of  the  sufferers  from  the  floods  in  Northern 
Italy.  Papa,  my  brother,  and  I  went  to  it.  At 
the  "principal  entrance  to  the  garden,  which  is 
called  Villa  Na/.ionale.  were  four  great  elephants, 
not  live  ones,  but  frame-work  covered  with  can- 
vas. There  were  a  great  many  bazars  inside. 
One  was  a  doll  bazar:  this  was  shaped  to  repre- 
sent a  tremendous  doll  looking  out  from  a  walk- 
ing li.i-ket.  such  as  the  Neapolitans  put  their  ba- 
bio  in  w  hen  they  are  learning  to  walk.  Outside 
of  this  basket  bazar  were  hung  drums, dolls, and 
all  sorts  of  playthings,  the  selling  of  which  went 
on  at  the  door.  Just  opposite'  to  this  was  a 
flower  bazar,  which  bad  its  hack  againsta  statue. 
And  what  do  you  think  the  back  was?  A  look- 
ing-glass. This  ba/ar  was  like  a  bower  of  wil- 
lows dotted  with  flowers  that  had  the  faculty  of 
standing  without  the  least  support.  Then  there 
was  a  cigar  booth  which  looked  very  much  like 
an  Indian  wigwam ;  it  was  built  of  mock  cigars. 
each  one  reaching  from  the  ground  to  the  top  of 
tin-  w  igwam. 

In  the  garden  where  the  fair  was  held  there  is 
an  aquarium.  The  director  of  it  gave  all  the 
money  made  by  it  that  day  for  the  benefit  of  the 
fair.  About  twenty-five  thousand  people  went 
to  tlie  fair, so  of  course  a  great  many  went  in  to 
see  the  aquarium.  (  Hie  ot  mydeare-t  triends.a 
little  girl  named  Beatrice, went  in.  She  ascended 
to  the  top  of  the  house  to  take  a  bird's-eye  view 
of  the  fair,  and  fell  through  a  skylight  into  the 
room  below,  which  was  locked.  She  was  uncon- 
scious when  she  struck  the  floor.  The  key  could 
in. i  I  ic'  found,  and  when  they  were  about  to  break 
down  the  door  sin-  came  to  her  senses,  and  called 
out,  "I'm  all  right."  .lust  thru  the-  key  was  found. 
The  fair  closed  with  tire-works  in  the-  ev.  mug. 
which  I  did  not  sec-.  I  was  disappointed,  because 
then-  was  an  electric  Punchinello,  which  must 
have  been  funny.  .MAMIE  D. 

What  a  pity  your  little  friend  met  with  such  an 
accident!  I  hope  she  soon  recovered  from  the 
shock  it  gave  her. 


!>>:.  KM  [IKK   12,  1882. 


HAKPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


95 


Your  description  "f  tin-  fair  is  very  well  writ- 
ten, and  I  wish  I  could  have  gone  willi  you  to 
s.i  th.-  wonderful  make-belie\ »•  elephants,  the 

tl»wer  ha/ar.  and  tin-  |ov  ely  < lolls.  The  best  tiling 
about  ii  all  was  Ihal  the  money,  which  do  doubt 
flowed  freely  into  tin-  treasury,  was  given  to  help 

I  lie  ne  who  were  ill  1166(1. 


Now  we  will  take  a  journey  from  Naples  to 
New  York. 

Little  folks  who  go  shopping  in  this  luisy  city 
•are  familiar  with  the  shrill  er\  of  "C-a  a  *-h  »•  by 
which  the  saleswomen  summon  the  girls  who 
earn  parcels  ami  go  on  errands  in  the  crowded 
buildings.  I  sometimes  look  at  these  <[iiick  wit- 
ted  and  light  footed  little  errand  girls. and  won- 
der  what  sort  ..f  homes  they  have,  anil  hope. 
egpl  '  lally  when  I  see  a  tired  look  o,,  ihi  ll 
that  their  parent*  will  not  he  themselves  too 
weary  with  the  day's  work  to  give  them  a  kind 
welcome  home  at  night.  And  no\\ .  when  yon 
r.-ad  the  true  ~ti.ry  which  a  lady  writes  for  the 
Post  ..nice  [;..\.  I  am  sure  you  will  feel  That  one 

little     •_;<  '     -li   31    rVed     Credit      .      r    being    above    the 

temptation  to  take  what  \\asnot  herown: 

Yerv    recently  in  one  of  our  large   shops   ,  ,n 
Sixth  Avenue  a  little  "  cash  girl"  picked  up  si  ime 
money.     The  rule  in  all  these  e~ia  Mishments  is 
that    arlii-le-    1 1  fi  |'|  "•>  I    or    forgotten    by    oai 
customers  shall  he  carried  to  the  "  Found' 

i>ut  If  a  clerk  is  dishonest,  this  rule  can  bi  • 

The  little  girl  was  honest, and thei  ookthe 

mone\  [  o  the  proprietor  of  the  ~h..p     some  time 

during  I  he  day  a  young  man  cane-  in.  a-kin_:  il  a 

hundred-dollar  hill  had  be<  n  seen:  he  emiid  not 

hi  posiihe.  hut  he  thought  In  h  el  lost  jt  there. 
I!  \\  a-  proved  that  he  was  t  he  owner  ot  t  lie  f.  ,imil 
Tnoiiev.  and  -o  pleased  vva-  |,e  to  know  that  a 

little  girl  had  l.eell  holiest  enough  to  plan  i' 
Where  i!  could  lie  claimed  that  he  asked  to  have 

her  presented    to   him.  and    Lrn  ''hwith 

twenty  live  dollars      The  proprietor  of  tl, 

tl ghl   it  would  he  unsafe  to  allow  the  chihl  to 

go  home  alone  vv  il  h  \\  hat  w  a-,  lor  tier,  80  l.i  rg>-  a 

Bum  of  money,  for  the  untaught  sti r  i  hildn  M 

are  hold  little  thieves,  SO  he  went  home  with  hi-r. 
He  found  the  family  dreadfully  destitute  ;  the  mo 
t her  and  older  daughter  were  l,,,th  ill  and  in  hi -i I  : 
the  1 1  ait  was  due.  and  but  tor  t  hi-  t  im-i  v  gin  .1:1 
the  family  would  have  been  turned  into  the  street 

the  Verj  H(1  '.I  da  V  \Vere  not  I  hese  deeds  of  holl- 
esty  and  kindness  healltifully  blended.'  and  do 

yon  not  think  thai  little  girl  mn-t  have  hi  • 
and  proud  Mills  to  have  s.i\ed  her  dear  Dl 
much  suffering'.' 

In  your  pleasant  planning  for  ( 'hristmas.  dear 
•children.  I   trust   you  an-  all  renn  inhering  those 

who  are  m,t  s, mfortable  a-  you  are     There 

is  a  great  deal  of  suffering  in  the  world  in  the 
inerrv  winter  i  lays,  u  hen  the  snow  ll.i  Li.  tail,  and 
you.  who  are  warmlv  clad,  have  so  much  fun. 
Yon  will  he  the  happier  if  yon  do  your  share  in 

making    sonn Id    hare    home    brighter    and 

warmer. 


yon  vv  d  many  bright  ideas,  and  yon 

may  try  to  put  some  of  them  in  pract  ice. 


NEWARK,  V.  vv-  .Imi-rv. 

Hurrah  for  the  snow'     When  I  jumped  out  of 
hed  1 1 1  is  morn  ing.  and  s;l  w  t  he  si  reel  all  white,  I 

was  so   glad  1  (rave  thrt hccrs      My  !>i<'ilni 

Ned  woke  up,  and  he  ran  to  the  window  and 
opt  tied  it.  and  made  a  snow-hall  of  the  snow  on 
the  sill  lie  threw  it  a  1  me.  and  oh  '  ii  was  spier 
did  and  cold  :  We  had  a  ^'raml  pillow  tiirht  then, 
and  made  such  a  racket  that  papa  came  to  t  he 

foot   of   the    st;|  i|-s  ;|nd   Called,   "   P.o\  -  '    bo\  s   '    what 

arc  you  about?"    Then  sister  came  to  the  .i 

and   s;iid   there  were   buckwheat    cakes,  and   we 
must  hurry  and  get  dressed  forhn-ai,!  i-i 
[  have  a  sled,  and  I  take  my  little  cousin  Helen 

to  school  on  it.  I  like  to  skate,  and  so  do  \,i| 
.and  Clark,  mv  two  brothers  (in  holidays  papa 
ami  i  ncle  John  go  and  skate  too.  And  yon  ought 

to  see  papa,  he  skates  so  nicely  :     (,ood-hy. 

IlAiiiir  .T. 


FAST  I.iYKr:i-i>.il  ,  Olll". 

T  take  your  delightful  jiaper.  and  read  all  the 
letter*  in  the  1'ost-ofHoc  I'.ox,  ard  1  thought  I 
would  write  one  m\'self.  although  I  ha\  e  not  any- 
thing very  interestinir  to  say.  Hut  I  irness  I  \\  ill 
tell  Mm  about  an  owl  that  made  a  \i~jt  :,t  our 
lions.-  one  niirht.  Mamma  and  I  wa-re  just  ^oimr 
out  in  the  hall  when  we  heard  a  noise  upstairs; 
it  sounded  like  an  animal  :  it  llew  .  and  ali-hted  .  »n 
the  i;a*  lUtnrcs  Mamma  and  I  were  so  friirhtcned 
that  we  didn't  know  what  it  was  I  ran  fi  it •  |>  i  |i:j. 
and  he  caught  it.  and  found  it  to  be  a  ^n-at  owlj 
he  did  not  keep  it .  In  it  let  it  .nit  iii  the  yard,  and 
that  was  the  last  we  -aw-  of  it. 

Dear  Postmistress,  it  is  about  time  to  make 
Christmas  present",  hut  it  is  so  hard  to  know 
what  to  make  t  hat  1  haven't  i;ot  very  many  made 
.yet.  Have  yon'-  EIINA  P.  S. 

The  owl  was  probably  as  alarmed  as  you  were, 
"when  he  found  himself  in  such  strange  quarters. 

I  have  not  time  to  make  many  of  my  Christmas 
;gifts,  dearie;  this  Post-office  Box  keeps  me  so 
.busy.  But  if  you  read  the  letters  iu  this  number 


JBBSEY. 

I  am  a  little  hoy  seven  years  old.  and  have  a 
brother  thirteen  years  old.     I  take  *i  ,.i  -,      i 
ri.K.     I   like   "Nan"  very  much.     We  have  a   big 
tame  turtle,  hut    he   lias  buried    himself  tor  the 
winter. 

I  am  just  getting  over  the  measles,  and  thought 
I  would  write  to  you.     This  is  my  tirst  let  let- 

ATIIKLSTANE  K. 

I  am  glad  joii  an    ,,MT  the  troublesome  mea- 
sles 


PETKOIT.  Ml.  m    *\. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  like  YOI-NO 
I'Kon.K  very  much.  1  have  a  sister  ten  years  old. 
and  a  hahy  alstt  r  one  and  ill  d  .les 

sic.  m\  olde-1  sister,  has  a  dog  named  Don;  he 
was  a  i  hi-ist  mas  present .  My  mamma  and  papa 
are  going  to  New  York.  Jessie  and  bab)  and  I 
will  be  left  alone  with  t.iy  aunt  I,i/./i.  .  1  would 
like  to  write  about  pets,  but  I  ha\e  none  except 
my  baby  sister  ;  she  is  very  cunning.  I  take  mu- 
8ic  lessons,  hut  don't  like  to  practice,  and  IMV 
papa  did  not  know  anything  about  it  until  I 
e  for  him  one  evening.  He  was  very 
much  snrpri-cd.  My  sister  does  not  know  I  alii 
writing  a  letter,  and  >hc  will  not  Know  it  until 

she  reads  it   ill  the   Po»l -otlice  I!oX.  Kl.lTIl    1,. 

Did  yon  not  feel  rewarded  for  the  trouble  of 
practicing  when  papa  kissed  you  for  that  piece, 
and  .-ailed  >.ni  his  dear  little  persevering  daugh- 
ter, as  I  am  sure  he  did? 


Yi.nk-. 

I  am  a   bi.v  almost   eight    years  old       I  have  a 
pet    do:;:   his  name   is  Watch       \Ve  had   t  w  o  cats 

a  a   ha_'       line  went    away  because 
Hot   like  me;   he  thoiighl   I  would   burl   li'in  some 

'.'..I'.          I     like    to    see    the    boats    land    at     the    liver. 

and  I  have  heen   Irving  to  make  -'in-       I   made  a 

I'.eomolive     the     other     dav  I      ll-ed      a      hloek      .it 

v,- i ,  a  nd  i  in  it  round  for  the  main  part,  and  took 

cii:ht  checkers  t..r  win1'  Is,  a  9] i  with  one  end 

CUt   of! 

a  s.|ii  i  :  Ii.  and  a  st  ill 

-I    .    n  the  top  of  tin-  call,  pastl 

tender  I  used  two  sp,.,,;s  .111,1  :|  sm;i||  p;l. 

per  box.      1  fastened  the  s| Is  ,,n  the  paper  box. 

It  looked  pretty  well  when  done.     My  big  sister 

Sue    helped    it    away:    she    s;1"|d    she    Wanted    it     to 

i  ad   would   show   it   to   me  when    I    was   a 
man.     1  like  the  "I  "     i  h.  >pe  m>  let 

tef  isli'l   too  long.  (Mm  i;    P. 


I.KExnl   '•'   .   I   LORtDA, 

lama  liitl.  girl  five  years  old  I  have  taken 
*i  1 1 1  •. . .  i  •  1 1  •  i  •  i  i  all  this  yi 

to  me.  a  i  i.  read  it  all  myself.  I  am  a  little 
New  York  L'irl.as  we  only  left  your  city  a  f.-vy 

W-eeks  ,-IL'.  ,.    i  in  I  v,  i    .1  I  '-  all   VI  t  |   m  m   h   ;   !i  E18I  d  with 

delightful,  and  we 
have  plenty  of  bananas,  oranges,  etc.    \\ .    see 

man.,  things  that  would  seem  very  strain.-.-  lo 
my  little  Northern  companions. but  1  suppose  ii 

I  should   attempt  to  tell  about   them   y,.u 
not   print   my  letter      I  can  n..i   write  with  pen 
and   ink.  but    I   .-an  writ.-  wiih  my  papa's  up. 
writer:   but   it   is  now  broken,  and  so  my  papa 
writes  this   lor  me       I   suppose    il    mn*l    I-     -,  •  i  \ 
eold  iii  New   \  ,.rk  now.     Isn't  it? 

C.K  vi  n;  EMKII-ON  M. 

^  i  .11  are  a  clever  little  maiden  if  v»u  can  write 
with  papa's  t  v  pe  writer  w  In  n  oiil  v  live  \  ears  old 
'I  -  -.  it  is  cold  in  Nevv  '^  ork  now.  and  I  am  i:lad 
you  are  enjoying  yourself  in  the  land  of  llowers 

and  birds,     still  we  hav<    ;; I  lim.-s   -novv-hall- 

iiiL.-.  skatinir.  and  glelgh  riditn:  in  the  winter  days, 
and  we  don't  care  for  .lack  l-'r..*t.  llo  we.  ehil 
dren  ? 


EnntE  SntFFt.ER.— This  dear  boy  was  one  of  our 
most  welcome  youthful  correspondents.  Hi'  was 
very  fond  of  Y..I-M.  I'I.OIM.K.  and  took  an  interest 
in  all  its  stories,  sketches,  and  pictures.  Ilis  sis- 
ter Nellie,  writ  in;.'  from  Mansfield.  Ohio,  tells  the 
1'ostniistress  ,  ,f  the  death  of  her  brother  in  All- 
cust  last.  Desiring  to  earn  a  little  mone.  for 
himself,  he  asked  his  father  to  let  him  sell  news- 
papers out  of  school  hours  in  the  railroad  d.-pnt. 
where  trains  were  freq'iently  arrivini:  and  de- 
parting. On  the  lltli  of  AilLrust  Kddie.  with  his 
papers,  stepped  on  board  a  train  which  he  sup- 
posed stopped  there  ln*tead.  it  immediately 
started  at  a  quick  rate  of  speed,  and  the  little 
fellow,  jiimpinir  off.  was  so  terribly  injured  thai 
he  soon  died.  Nellie's  sorrowful  letter  tilled  my 
heart  with  sympathy,  and  I  am  (dad  to  publish 
here  what  his  teacher  wrote  of  him  soon  aller 
the  sad  event.  It  is  a  nolile  record  for  any  boy  : 

"From  his  early  youth  he  was  never  known  to 
speak  falsely,  and  it  was  always  remarked  of  him 


that  if  Kddie  said  s,,.  it  was  enough,  and  could  be 

depended  upon.  lie  was  generous  and  open- 
In  Uliil:  otlell.  instead  of  spelldilli:  money  on 

himself  or  his  own  pleasures,  he  would  delk-iit  in 
buying  presents  that  he  thought  would  please 

his  mo tlier.      And   alih<>u!.'h   he   earned   a    ;_• 1 

deal,  tor  he  was  industrious. he  nevi  r  w  anted  to 
'.  unless  It  would  do  somebody  some 

ir 1  :  he  also  laid  by  in  bank  quite  a  snni  lor  so 

small  a  hoy.  His  father  would  say  to  him  some- 
times that  he  thought  the  business  wa>  not  safe, 
that  he  ran  a  great  deal  of  risk,  and  that  he  would 
rather  he  would  -ive  it  up:  but  Kddie  pleaded 
that  he  Would  be  careful,  and  he  liked  to  (eel 
that  he  was  earning  money  himself,  so  thai  as  he 

was  known  to  be  careful  and  thoughtful  beyond 
his  years,  he  was  allowed  to  keep  on.  n\v.i  re 
marked  to  his  father  afterward  by  one  of  the  of- 
ficials at  the  dep.'.i.  that  of  all  the  boys  that  w.  re 
constantly  on  the  platform  Kddie  was  the  only 
nn  \\  no  ne\  er  i;a  v  e  occasion  to  h,-  reproved,  iii 
his  daily  intercourse  with  his  family,  friends. 
and  neighbors  he  endeared  himself  by  his  swe.  i 
ness  ,,f  temper  and  his  consideration  for  others. 
and  to  his  afflicted  mother  and  father  and  sister 
he  was  a  ill-voted  son  and  brother.  To  his  sub- 
sei-ih.-i-s  he  was  alwavs  [iroinpt  and  obliging  in 
his  dealings,  so  that  hi-  bright .  happv  taee  was 
well  know  n  and  e\  er  w  elc.  .me." 


PUZZLES  FROM  Yol'Ni;  coNTKIHrTORS. 

No    ] 

Tlinxi:   in  v  MI  'Mis 

1. — 1.  A  letter.  -J.  An  implement.  :j.  A  state- 
ment. I  Pertaining  to  the  armpit.  :.  pertain- 
ing to  a  place  in  Asia  Minor,  li.  A  Scotch  prefix. 
7.  A  letter.  KAY  KLL. 

i.  A  letter     '.'   Part  of  a  verb.    :i.  A  whim. 
i   i1        a  tin  body.    5    v  letter.     .MAI  i.vm  v. 

3.— 1.  A  letter  '.'The  juice  of  a  tree.  3.  A 
vv.  ii:ht.  4.  All  animal  D  \  letter 

Kiin-it  M.  L. 

No   -.' 

1       I    M  .  .  II  V 

III  w  aist .  not   in  shirt. 
In  clean,  in  it  in  dirt . 
Ins,  ,ng.  n,  ,t  in  h  v  mn. 
In  John,  not  in  Tim. 
In  .Mm.  not  in  Joe 
In  hand,  not  in  toe. 
In  d.  -g.  not  in  cow". 
]n  cutler,  not  in  ], lough. 

Ill   1...  lk.   II.  it    ill    see 

111  honey.  Hot    in  bee. 

M  v   w  hoi.-  is  a  man 

\\  ho  was  great  and  g.  md. 

And  t..  save  his  country 

Did  all  he  cold, I.          CliliillT  ETE8. 


m  V..ON  vi.. 

t     \  ticket.     .'.  A   voice  iii  music.     :i  A  water- 
bird.    -I.  An  ornament.    ;,.  A  .sharp  instrument. 


N...  I. 

A   Titos*. 

1    A  feminine  name      '„'    Knmity      ,'I   Metal      I. 

K'etreshed        .".     Sa'l-lled        I',     A   contract.      ',  .    Kqua] 

ly  di*tant.  H.  i;e~id.Mei  1,1  a  consul  '.'  food 
consumed,  in  A  pronoun.  ]|.  A  beverage,  p.*. 
A  period  ..f  time  i  .nirals  give  the  name  of  a 
greal  n-li  inner 

ANSU'KI.'s  To   IT/71. KS  IX  No.  100. 
No.  1.  S    II    A    II    K 

II  K  RON 
\  K  (.  I  K 
It  o  I  O  K 
K  N  K  E  L 

No.  3.          S  Y  N  T  \  \ 

Y  K  A  H  N 

N  \  \  •! 

T  If  •! 

\  ,\ 

X 

No.  3.  A  M  S 

ADD       CAN       ATE 

ADDIE   MABEL   STOVE 

DIE       N  I-;  H       E  V  E 

EKE 

No.  4.  Postmistress 

Miss.     Post.     Mist       Most.     Rose 


Correct  answers  to  pux/.les  have  been  received 
from  Karl.  Kddie  s.  Ilequcmhourg.  Alice  South- 
worth.  <;racie  Darby,  c  lie  (iaii^ne.  .Mary  Nan- 
dahl  Ellie  Me  \leer,  1'  I.  .rei  1 1  -e.  Mabel,  and  Annie 
Knight.  "  Kodestar."  Knnice  Wilcox.  <  harlie  Vail. 

I  n- Thomas.  Klhert  Preseott.  ".Jack  and  Jill," 

T.  T.  T.,  Archie  llix.  Hugh  Macdonahl.  Kddie 
Maynard.  Ralph  Hrown.  clarence  Fulton.  Mary 
<  hai  t  >-.  Imogeiie  \'an  Dorn,  Theodora  \Iott.  F.  L. 
Long.  "Geo.  Logist,"  Horace  W.  IJanforth. 

|  (tir/iifl  to  Jtn'^/fi''    "F'  "'/"  r/'i*<u<>  uf*  E.ft:h<(l"Jt* 

are  omitted  from  thi*  in 


96 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  SNOW. 

BY  CHARA  BROUGHTON. 

SNOW,  suow,  soft-fulling  and  slow, 

Where  do  you  come  from,  pray? 
And  whither,  0  pretty  tlukes.  do  you  go 

When  the  bright  sun  melts  you  away  ? 

The  pure  white  clouds  give  the  suow-flakes  birth, 
When  we  drop  iu  feathery  showers, 

And  when  we  sink  in  the  kindly  earth 
We  nourish  the  springing  flowers. 


"FICTION." 
BY    C.  W.  FISHER. 

THIS  is  a  very  entertaining  game,  and  especially  adapted  to 
winter  evenings  when  families  and  friends  gather  about 
round  tables  and  open  fires.  One  of  the  party  selects  and  writes 
down  a  half-dozen  short  phrases  and  sentences,  of  as  varied  char- 
acter as  possible,  indiscrimiuately  mixing  sense  aud  foolishness  ; 
the  others  copy  the  list. 

The  game  consists  iu  writing  a  short  sketch,  anecdote,  poem, 
or  any  species  of  composition,  in  which  all  of  the  selected  sen- 
tences are  included,  aud  iu  the  precise  order  iu 
which  they  were  given.  The  seutences,  aud  also 
the  sketches,  should  be  short,  aud  the  diverse  re- 
sults from  their  combination  are 
often  very  funny.  There  is  am- 
ple scope  in  the  play  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  keeuness  and  wit, 
aud  it  can  be  made  to  afford 
a  number  of  per- 
sons a  very  plea- 


sant evening's  amusement.  As  an  illustration,  the  following 
were  given  out  to  a  family  circle  a  short  time  ago  :  "  Black\vell's 
Island."  "A  buzzing  mosquito."  "A  coal-black  ut'gress."  "A 
frolicsome  pup."  "  It's  a  pleasant  evening." 

One  of  the  products  was  as  follows,  which  is  not  at  all  bad  for 
a  twelve-year-old  girl:  "Early  in  June  little  Bobby  Fitzhugh 
started  with  his  father  to  go  to  Boston.  Bobby  was  much  inter- 
ested in  the  work  of  blasting  out  the  channel  at  IHackictH's  In/- 
and, through  which  their  steamer  passed,  aud  asked  numerous 
questions  about  it,  and  was  so  much  engrossed  iu  Mr.  Fitzhugh's 
descriptions  that  for  a  long  time  he  did  not  heed  the  attacks  of 
a  buzzing  mosquito.  A  pause  iu  the  talk,  however,  gave  him  the 
opportunity  to  rid  himself  of  his  unwelcome  guest,  and  he  was 
about  to  continue  his  questioning,  when  he  was  attracted  by 
loud  voices.  He  turned,  saw  a  largo  coal-black  negress  scolding 
aud  shaking  a  darky  boy,  who  was  sobbiug  bitterly.  'Didn't 
I  tole  you  not  to  go  near  dat  dog,  chile?'  she  said;  'white 
folks  call  uiu  a  frolicsome  pup,  but  de  pups  bite  little  niggers,  so 
dou't  go  nigh  urn.  You  jes'  mind  what  I  say.'  No  other  incident 
occurred  on  the  trip,  though  Bobby  was  mightily  pleased  when 
the  Captaiu,  iu  passing  him,  remarked,  'It's  a  pleasant  erening,' 
which  condescension  on  the  part  of  a  real  live  captain  Master 
Bob  has  since  made  much  of  in  talking  over  his  summer's  doings 
with  his  companions." 


V  I"  ^"" 


<  "'   -        -- 


-  =-^?T't     •".-i.'"iMfljumiifvhi|H 

"~"'l  IBtW 

lllHU  t 


iSViIU^'^  -;isr.-: 


"PLEASE,  MR.  SANTA    CLAUS.  WHAT   YOU  GOT   FOR   US!" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  164. 


PUBLISHED  isv  HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FOUR    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  December  19, 1883. 


Copvriylit,  1832,  by  HAKPEU 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


CHRISTMAS    AT    PEACEABLE    COURT.— SEE  "THE  GIRL  WHO  SAVED  UP  CHRISTMAS."— [PAGE  98.] 


98 


HAHPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NOTICE. — The  Serial  Story,  Post-office  Box,  and  Exchanges,  omitted 
from  our  Christmas  Camber,  will  be  resumed  next  week. 


"A  Christmas  Present  which  Lasts  All  The  Year." 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  an  Illustrated  Weekly,  $1  50  a  Year. 

CHRISTMAS. 

BY  ELEANOR  A.  HUNTER. 

THE  rounded  bills  in  quiet  lay; 

The  shepherds  watch  were  keeping; 
Clothed  in  soft  fleece,  in  warmth  and  peace, 

Their  gentle  flocks  were  sleeping. 
No  sound  was  there  in  earth  or  air, 

Through  wind-swept,  star-lit  spaces; 
O'er  field  and  hill  the  wind  blew  chill, 

And  o'er  the  shepherds'  faces. 

When  suddenly  through  parted  skies 

A  wondrous  light  was  beaming. 
And  crowds  of  angels  filled  the  air 

From  out  heaven's  portals  streaming; 
Abroad  their  glorious  wings  they  spread, 

Their  throats  with  song  were  swelling; 
In  garments  bright,  with  looks  of  light 

The  shepherds'  fears  dispelling. 

Ah,  long  ago  that  song  was  sung, 

Of  "Glory  in  the  highest, 
Good-will  and  peace  to  all  mankind," 

When  heaven  to  earth  drew  uighest, 
Because  that  night  the  Lord  of  Light 

Came  down  to  earth  a  stranger, 
Was  born  within  a  stable  old, 

Was  cradled  in  a  manger. 

The  brown-eyed  cattle  watched  His  sleep, 

The  shepherds  sought  and  found  Him, 
Led  by  the  Star  that  shone  afar, 

The  wise  men  knelt  around  Him; 
Spices  and  gold  they  brought  of  old. 

With  joy  rich  gifts  left  with  Him; 
And  you  have  too,  my  golden  head, 

A  little  heart  to  give  Him. 

'Mid  crash  and  clang  of  Christmas  bells 

That  ring  so  loud  and  cheerly. 
Forget  not  that  He  came  a  child 

Because  He  loved  you  dearly. 
Give  sweeter  kiss,  give  closer  clasp, 

Give  gentler  (  Im-lmas  greeting. 
Remembering  Him  whose  blessed  name 

It  is  you  are  repeating. 


THE  GIRL  WHO  SAVED  UP  CHRISTMAS. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

"rpHERE'S  one.  thing:  about  Christmas  that  I  don't 
J_  like,"  Minty  confided  to  Horatio  Erastus,  her  bro- 
ther, in  a  low  tone,  and  with  a  glance  around,  to  be  sure 
that  nobody  else  was  in  the  room,  as  if  she  realized  what 
a  very  dreadful  thing  it  was  to  say. 

Horatio  Erastus — called  Rasty  for  short — looked  up 
from  his  interesting  occupation  of  dressing  up  Cleopatra, 
the  old  gray  cat,  to  look  like  a  monkey,  in  the  greatest 
surprise.  There  were  a  great  many  things  in  the  world 
that  didn't  suit  Rasty;  he  considered  that  boys  had  a  very 
hard  time,  what  with  lessons  full  of  stupid  long  words 
that  didn't  seem  to  mean  much  of  anything,  and  being 
sent  to  bed  at  a  particular  time,  and  011  holidays  always 
finding  the  ice  too  thin  or  the  snow  too  thick,  or  some- 
thing. And  it  was  hard  to  have  been  born  after  the  world 
had  grown  so  dull;  when  giants  and  fairies  and  all  such 
entertaining  people  seemed  to  have  vanished  out  of  it; 
when  nobody  had  a  wishing-cap,  and  nobody  was  turned 
into  a  white  cat,  and  you  couldn't  possibly  ride  on  a  broom- 
stick after  the  fascinating  style  of  Mother  Goose's  time. 
Oh  yes,  there  were  plenty  of  things  .in  the  world  that 
Rasty  didn't  approve  of,  but  he  never  had  thought  of 
finding  any  fault  with  Christmas. 

It  was  queer  that  Minty  should  be  the  one  to  do  that. 


She  was  only  a  girl,  and  liked  silly  things;  she  could 
"make  believe"  things  as  boys  can't;  she  called  her  dolls 
"children" — stupid  things  that  bled  sawdust  when  they 
got  a  cut. 

"What  I  don't  like  about  Christmas  is  that  there's  too 
much  all  at  once.  To-morrow  comes  just  as  soon  as  if 
Christmas  were  any  other  day,  and  almost  all  your  pre- 
sents are  sure  to  be  broken  or  spoiled ;  there  are  so  many 
of  them  that  you  don't  take  care  of  them  as  you  would  if 
you  had  only  one  or  two,  and  Christmas  trees  don't  seem 
very  pretty,  and  you  wish  you  had  had  a  different  kind 
of  a  doll,  and  plum-pudding  seems  the  very  hatefulest 
thing  in  the  world,  and  you  -think  you  never  want  any 
more  candy.  Christmas  is  all  gone;  there  isn't  a  scrap 
of  it  left.  If  there  wouldn't  be  too  much  all  at  once,  and 
then  not  any ;  if  you  could  some  way  save  it  up — 

"  Save  it  up !  You're  a  pretty  one  to  save  up,  ain't  you  ? 
How  much  money  is  there  in  your  bank  ?  Only  .just  a  few 
pennies  to  make  it  rattle,  I'll  warrant,"  said  Rasty,  scorn- 
fully. Minty  grew  very  red  in  the  face.  She  did  like 
caramels  and  butter-scotch  very  much  indeed,  and  just  as 
she  had  resolved  not  to  spend  a  single  penny  for  a  whole 
week  Mr.  Lollipop,  around  the  corner,  was  sure  to  put  a 
fresh  and  tempting  supply  in  his  shop  window,  and  al- 
most before  she  knew  it  Minty  would  have  her  hand  in  her 
pocket  and  her  foot  on  the  door-step  of  the  shop. 

"I  suppose  you  couldn't  possibly  save  up  Christmas; 
that's  what  I  don't  like  about  it,"  said  Minty,  with  a  sigh. 

"Girls  think  such  silly  things !  If  you  were  a  boy,  and 
studied  Latin,  you  would  know  better,"  said  Rasty,  thrust- 
ing Cleopatra's  paws  into  the  sleeves  of  a  red  jacket  which 
had  originally  belonged  to  a  very  slender  Paris  doll  of 
Minty's,  and  was  a  very  snug  fit  for  the  cat.  Cleopatra 
was  inclined  to  be  fat,  and,  moreover,  did  not  accommo- 
date herself  so  readily  to  a  snug  fit  as  if  she  had  not  felt  se- 
rious objections  to  appearing  in  the  role  of  a  monkey. 

"You  had  better  be  helping  me  dress  Cleopatra  than 
talking  about  such  foolish  thing's.  If  she  would  stand  up 
on  her  hind-legs  I  don't  believe  anybody  would  look  much 
at  the  Christmas  tree!" 

"I  would,  only  Cleopatra  does  hate  it  so  dreadfully; 
and  do  you  think  she  would  look  so  very  much  like  a 
monkey,  anyway  ?  I  do  wish  you  had  a  truly  monkey, 
Rasty.  you  have  wanted  one  so  long!" 

"  I  sha'n't  get  one  this  Christmas,  you  see  if  I  do.  Ev- 
erybody says,  '  Oh  no,  you  don't  want  a  monkey,  Rasty, 
they  are  so  troublesome !'  As  if  a  feller  didn't  know  what 
he  wanted  himself!" 

"  It  is  very  hard,  Rasty,"  said  Minty,  with  a  sympathet- 
ic sigh.  And  then  she  wondered  if  the  three  dollars  that 
she  still  had  left  to  buy  Christmas  presents  with  wouldn't 
buy  Rasty  a  monkey. 

She  had  bought  something  for  everybody  else,  and  as 
the  aunts  and  uncles  and  cousins  who  were  coining  to 
spend  Christmas  were  almost  innumerable,  it  was  quite 
wonderful  that  she  had  even  three  dollars  left. 

The  market  price  of  monkeys  was  something  with  which 
she  was  entirely  unacquainted,  and  though  she  had  made 
numerous  inquiries,  nobody  seemed  to  know.  Her  father 
or  Uncle  Demetrius  might  have  found  out,  but  they  were 
the  very  ones  who  said  monkeys  were  troublesome  things, 
and  wouldn't  take  the  least  interest. 

That  very  afternoon  an  organ-grinder  with  a  monkey 
happened  to  come  around,  and  Minty  ran  out  and  asked 
him  how  much  his  monkey  was  worth,  and  he  said  fifty 
dollars. 

So  Minty  was  forced  to  the  sad  conclusion  that  she 
should  not  be  able  to  buy  Rasty  a  monkey  this  Christmas. 

But  perhaps  a  porcelain  monkey  on  an  elastic  cord  would 
be  better  than  no  monkey  at  all.  It  certainly  seemed  a 
more  interesting  present  than  the  sleeve-buttons  which 
she  had  intended  to  buy. 

But  when  the  monkey  was  bought,  he  seemed  a  very 


DECEMBER  19,  1882. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


99 


poor  apology  for  a  real  monkey.  He  was  pink  and  blue — 
colors  which  one  would  certainly  not  expect  to  find  in 
unv  well-ordered  monkey — and  his  grin,  although  it  seem- 
ed fascinating  at  first,  grew  very  tiresome,  because  it  nev- 
er changed.  And  of  course  the  only  movement  of  which 
lie  u  as  capable  was  a  monotonous  little  hop  as  one  jerked 
the  clastic. 

Minty  was  very  much  afraid  that  Rasty  wouldn't  like 
him  at  all,  and  would  say  it  was  just  like  a  girl  to  buy  him. 

There  was  one  good  thing  about  the  porcelain  monkey, 
though.  Hi-  had  cost  only  two  dollars,  so  she  still  had 
a  dollar  with  which  to  buy  something  else  for  Rasty,  so 
that  she  needn't  feel  too  badly  if  he  should  despise  the 
monkey. 

Aunt  Eleanor  was  going  down  town  to  buy  some  things 
which  she  had  forgotten,  to  deck  the  Christmas  tree,  just 
at  night-fall  on  Christmas-eve,  and  Minty  begged  to  go 
too. 

It  so  happened  that  Aunt  Eleanor  had  to  go  into  a  great 
many  shops  to  find  just  what  she  wanted,  and  Minty 
found  it  very  hard  to  decide  what  she  should  buy  for 
Rasty  with  her  one  dollar.  Just  as  she  was  wishing  that 
she  had  bought  him  a  shaving  set,  which  he  might  want 
some  time,  and  would  be  very  proud  to  have,  but  of  which 
Aunt  Eleanor  didn't  seem  to  approve,  a  must  fascinating 
little  monkey  capered  across  the  sidewalk  almost  under 
her  feet.  Minty  instantly  looked  around  to  see  if  she 
could  discover  whom  he  belonged  to.  He  was  attached 
by  a  string  to  a  small  Irish  boy  who  stood  on  the  sidewalk 
singing,  in  a  hoarse  little  voice,  a  song  of  which  the  words 
were  unintelligible,  except  the  refrain,  which  declared 
that  " Christmas  COmeS  bill  oneel  :i  year." 

A  girl  of  about  the  same  age  sat  on  the  curb-stone  in  a 
dejected  attitude,  playing  on  a  wheezy  old  accordion. 

Minty  rushed  up  to  the  boy.  Aunt  Kleanor  had  disap- 
peared within  a  shop  door,  and  there  was  nobody  to  inter- 
fere with  her  movements. 

"  ( )h,  don't  you  want  to  sell  your  monkey  ;  1  will  give 
you  a  dollar  for  him." 

"He  don't  be  ours  at  all,  at  all,  but  Micky  Moriarty's, 
that's  aft  her  1  in  din'  him  till  us."  said  the  1»>\  . 

"Would  Micky  Moriarty  sell  him  '."  asked  Minty. 

"Not  if  yc'il  give  him  the  wide  wurruld.  For  it's  the 
b'y  that  tuk  care  iv  him  will  the  favcr  that  give  the 
monkey  till  him,  for  himself  tuk  the  same  favcr.  jist,  an' 
\\a>  at'lher  dyin'.  an'  if  the  monkey  was  his  own  grand- 
father, Micky  couldn't  think  more  iv  him,  an'  he  u  mild  n't 
be  afther  lindin'  him  till  us  the  night  if  it  wasn't  that  on 
lucky  we've  been  the  day  that  we  didn't  get  a  penny,  an' 
it  Christinas!" 

"  Is  that  why  she  has  been  crying  .'"  asked  Minty.  point- 
ing to  the  girl,  whose  red  aud  swollen  eyelids  she  had  no- 
ticed. 

"She's  kind  of  wakely,  an'  she  don't  be  that  stout-hairt- 
ed  that  I  am,  an'  she's  afther  losin'  her  place  wid  a  grand 
milliner  this  at'tliernooii  be  raison  iv  gettin'  asthray  whin 
she  was  sint  to  carry  home  a  bonnet,  an'  a  foine  lady  was 
near  bavin'  to  go  to  church  Christmas  mornin'  widout  her 
new  bonnet.  The  misthress  turned  Biddy  atf,  an'  kipt 
back  her  pay.  An'  ourselves  thinkin'  we'd  be  afther  hav- 
in'  a  bit  iv  a  Christmas!" 

"Haven't  you  anybody  to  give  you  anything?"  asked 
Minty. 

"Oh,  it's  not  stairvin'  we  do  be,"  said  the  boy,  with 
some  pride.  "The  widdy  Moriarty,  where  we  hires  our 
bit  room,  is  that  good  till  us  that  she's  afther  sharin'  the 
bit  an'  sup  wid  us  whiniver  she  have  it.  But  it's  a  tin- 
cint  job  iv  puttin'  in  coal  I'm  afther  gettin'  the  promise  iv 
to-morrow  marnin' ;  an'  it's  a  bit  iv  br'iled  liver  wid  pra- 
ties for  all  there'll  be  the  night,  Micky's  afther  tellin'  me; 
so  it's  not  down-hairted  I  am,  though  Lord  George,  wid 
all  his  coaxin'  ways,  is  not  afther  gettin'  a  chit." 

"Is  Lord  George  the  monkey?"  asked  Miuty,  whose  at- 


tention was  about  equally  divided  between  the  children 
and  the  monkey. 

"Folks  is  afther  thinkin'  it's  a  quare  name  for  a  monk 
ey.  but  the  felly  that  owned  him  he  was  kind  iv  grand 
feelin'  be  raison  iv  oncet  workiii'  for  a  lord,  an'  it's  out 
iv  compliment  till  his  masther  he  give  the  monkey  his 
name.  I'm  sorry  ye  can't  have  him,  miss,  if  ye're  want- 
in'  him  had,  Lut  if  ye  offered  him  as  much  gowld  as  t he- 
full  iv  the  say,  Micky  'd  not  sell  him.  Iv  ye'll  excuse  us, 
miss,  we'll  be  afther  movin'  on,  for  the  singiif  sounds 
sweeter  like  where  there  don't  be  such  a  crowd,  an'  maybe 
they're  not  all  afther  beiii'  in  such  a  hurry  i  very  where." 

"I  wish  there  was  afther  bein'  Christmas  enough  to  go 
round."  said  the  little  girl,  with  a  wistful  look  at  the  shop 
windows.  "Do  you  s'pose  Santa  Claus  is  that  ould  that 
he  gets  tired  out  before  he  gets  round  till  the  likes  of  us? 
That's  what  the  widdy  Moriarty  is  afther  savin'." 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  your  names,  and  where  you 
live."  said  Miuty,  a  sudden  vague  idea  shaping  itself  in 
her  mind. 

'•  It's  Teddy  and  Biddy  O'Brien,  No.  3  Paceable  Coort, 
we  do  be,"  said  the  boy. 

The  monkey  took  oft'  his  hat  to  Minty,  and  they  disap- 
peared in  the  crowd,  and  Minty  stood  looking  after  them, 
still  doubtfully  fingering  the  dollar  that  was  to  buy  Rasty's 
present. 

"  I  wish — oh,  I  wish  that  I  had  given  them  the  dollar!" 
she  said  to  herself.  But  it  was  too  late ;  they  were  already 
lost  in  the  crowd.  Rasty  was  always  saying  that  Minty 
"never  made  up  her  mind  till  afterward." 

Aunt  Eleanor  came  out  of  the  store,  wondering  where 
Minty  had  been,  and  saying  that  it  was  late,  and  they  must 
hurry  home:  and  Minty  got  into  the  carriage  in  silence, 
even  forgetting  that  Kasty  would  have  no  present  from 
her  hut  the  pink  and  blue  china  monkey. 

For  once  Minty  was  making  up  her  mind  beforehand. 
A  plan  had  come'  into  her  mind  that  seemed  to  her  the 
most  delightful  plan  that  ever  was  thought  of,  and  she 
meant  to  try  her  very  best  to  carry  it  out.  And  a  bright 
little  star  in  the  dark  sky  overhead  kept  winking  and 
blinking  encouragingly  at  her  as  much  as  to  say  it  would 
help  her  if  it  could;  and  Minty  remembered  what  a  very 
old  star  it  must  be — older  even  than  Santa  Clans — and 
how  many  Christinas- eves  it  must  have  looked  down 
upon,  even  upon  the  first  one,  when  (iod  sent  down  to  the 
earth  that  wonderful  gift  of  a  little  Child.  That  gift  was 
for  everybody,  even  for  "the  likes  of"  Teddy  and  Biddy 
(  )'|!rien.  thought  Minty.  He  must  have  meant  Christmas 
to  "go  round." 

The  sleigh  hells  jingled  out,  "You  can  do  it — do  it — do 
it!"  the  hard  snow  crunched  out,  "Save  up  Christinas 
— save  H]>  Christmas!"  and  a  solemn  old  bell  up  in  a 
church  tower  that  seemed  to  have  grown  young  and 
glad  in  spite  of  itself,  because  it  was  Christmas-eve,  rang 
out  as  plainly  as  if  its  tongue  were  made  of  flesh  and 
blood  instead  of  iron,  "Make  it  go  round — make  it  go 
round!" 

If  little  Biddy  O'Brien  could  have  seen  the  Christmas 
tree  that  greeted  Minty 's  eyes  that  night,  when  the  mys- 
terious preparations  were  completed,  and  the  doors  thrown 
open  to  the  uncles  and  aunts  and  cousins  and  grandfa- 
thers and  grandmothers,  and  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
friends  and  neighbors,  that  swarmed  in.  she  might  well 
have  thought  that  Santa  Claus  was  tired  out  before  he 
could  get  around  to  Peaceable  Court. 

But  it  didn't  seem  quite  fair  for  him  to  empty  his  pack, 
as  he  must  do,  in  this  house  every  Christmas,  and  never 
get  as  far  as  Peaceable  Court. 

These  were  the 'thoughts  that  were  dancing  in  Minty 's 
head  all  through  the  merry  Christmas  games;  and  before 
she  laid  her  head  on  her  pillow  that  night,  just  as  the 
Christmas  bells  were  ringing  their  midnight  peal,  she  had 


100 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


TRANSFORMING    CLEOPATRA    INTO    A    MONKEY. 

confided  her  plan  to  her  mother,  and  to  a  great  many  of 
the  aunts  and  uncles  and  cousins,  and  even  to  Biddy  the 
cook,  for  Biddy  was  a  little  cross  sometimes,  and  needed 
coaxing  when  her  services  were  needed  for  a  special  occa- 
sion ;  and  I  hey  had  all  agreed  to  help. 

"Christmas  isn't  all  gone;  there's  some  saved  up." 
murmured  Minty.  drowsily,  to  her  pillow. 

And  you  would  have  been  sure  to  think  so  if  you  had 
seen  what  happened  about  night-fall  of  the  next  day.  A 
very  large  covered  express 

wagon   stopped  in  front  of 

the  door,  and  into  it  went 
the  Christmas  tree,  with  its 
innumerable  little  tapers 
and  its  gayly  colored  balls 
still  upon  it.  Heaps  upon. 
heaps  of  gifts  followed;  ev- 
erybody contributed  some- 
thing. Kasty  gave  every- 
thing he  had  except  a  bicy- 
cle and  the  pink  and  blue 
china  monkey.  Minty  was 
very  much  gratified  that  he 
cared  enough  for  that  to 
wish  to  keep  it,  especially  as 
they  would  not  be  likely  to 
value  it  highly  in  Peaceable 
Court,  where  they  enjoy- 
ed the  privilege  of  Lord 
George's  society. 

Next  a  store  of  Christmas 
dainties,  which  had  been  left 
after  everybody  had  eaten 
more  than  enough,  went  into 
the  wagon,  besides  a  turkey 
and  a  plum -pudding,  and 
some  very  toothsome  cakes 
and  cookies  baked  by  Biddy 
expressly  for  the  occasion. 

It    was    Cousin    Harold 


who  mounted  to  the  driver's  seat.  He  had  dressed 
himself  lip  to  look  like  Santa  Glaus,  and  you  would 
certainly  have  thought  at  iirst  sight  that  he  was  Santa 
Glaus,  even  if  you  were  ever  so  well  acquainted  with 
that  fine  old  gentleman. 

Biddy  went  also,  to  attend  to  the  distribution  of  her 
goodies.  She  was  very  good-natured  and  very  much 
interested  after  she  was  told  that  the  children  to  whom 
the  Christmas  gifts  were  to  be  carried  were  Irish,  and 
their  name  was  O'Brien.  Biddy  had  a  strong  feeling 
for  her  race,  and  had  she  not  had  a  brother,  Timothy 
O'Brien,  who  came  from  the  "ould  counthry'1  before 
her,  and  of  whom  she  had  never  been  able  to  find  a 
trace '.  Whenever  she  heard  the  name,  Biddy  was 
seized  with  an  idea  that  she  was  going  to  find  some 
clew  to  Timothy's  whereabouts. 

Two  carriage-loads  of  children  followed  the  wagon, 
and  as  many  more  trooped  along  the  sidewalks,  keep- 
ing the  express  wagon  in  sight. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  such  a  procession  never  en- 
tered Peaceable  Court  before,  and  when  it  stopped  at 
the  door  of  No.  3,  almost  every  window  in  the  court 
was  thrown  open  and  had  a  throng'  of  wondering 
heads  thrust  out  of  it. 

The  widow  Moriarty.  in  a  starched  white  apron  and 
a  clean  frilled  cap,  evidently  hastily  donned,  stood 
in  her  doorway,  with  her  sou  Micky  leaning  oil  his 
crutch  behind  her,  and  Teddy  and  Biddy  peeping  out, 
one  at  each  side,  while  Lord  George  gravely  walked 
out  to  the  sidewalk  and  extended  his  paw  to  Santa 
Clans. 

' '  Sure  it  do  be  ould  Santa  Glaus  himself !"  cried 
Teddy. 
"  Indade  an'  it's  Christmas  intirely,  how  iver  it's  afther 

foiudin'  its  way  to  Paceable  Coort '."  cried  Biddy,  clapping 

her  hands  and  dancing  for  joy. 

The  boys  and  girls  nocked  into  the  house,  carrying  then1 

arms  full  of  presents,  and  Santa  Clans  carried  in  the  tree. 

and  Biddy  brought  up  the  rear  with  two  great  baskets  full  of 

good  things  to  eat.      But  the  moment  that  Biddy  caught 

sight  of  Teddy  and  little  Biddy  she  set  down  her  baskets 

and  seized  them  in  her  arms. 


CHRISTMAS    AT    MINTY'S    AND    RASTY'S    HOME 


DECEMBER  in,  1882. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


101 


"Sure  is  it  lone  orphins  ye  are  '.  And  tlie  very  image 
iv  me  foiue  young  brother  Timothy!" 

As  soon  as  they  could  get  their  breath  after  the  vigor- 
ous hugging  that  Biddy  gave  them  they  told  her  that  their 
father's  name  was  Timothy,  and  that  lie  had  a  sister  Biddy 
whom  he  was  always  trying  to  find.  And  Biddy  cried  for 
sorrow  one  minute  that  her  brother  Timothy  was  "  in  the 
cowld  ground  and  his  so\vl  wid  the  saints,"  and  for  joy 
the  next  that  she  had  found  "  his  childer  that  were  the  im- 
age iv  him,  jist,  and  should  niver  know  the  want  iv  a  fair- 
ther  agin  while  their  aunt  Biddy  lived,  sure !"  And  the 
widow  Moriarty  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  and  wept  until 
the  starch  was  all  out  of  her  apron,  and  even  the  frill 
of  her  cap  was  limp,  and  she  said  "it  was  the  foinest 
Christmas  that  iver  she  saw.  ban-in'  'twas  the  day  af- 

thcr." 

By  that  time  the  Christmas  tree  was  all  lighted  and 
laden  with  gifts  in  the  widow  Moriarty's  liviug-room. 
which,  though  poor  and  bare,  was  shining  with  cleanli- 
ness. 

It  was  hard  for  the  children  in  Peaceable  Court  to  be- 
lieve that  it  wasn't  all  too  good  to  be  true.  Little  Biddy 
drew  Teddy  into  a  corner,  and  made  him  give  her  a  good 
hard  pinch  to  be  sure  that  she  wasn't  dreaming. 

"You  do  be  raal  good  to  bring  Santa  Clans  till  us!" 
she  said  to  Minty.  "It's  meself  was  thinkin'  last  night, 
lie  the  plisant  way  ye  had,  mebbe  ve  was  Mime  relation 
till  him." 

Biddy  the  cook,  whom  IJasty  declared  they  should  here- 
after be  obliged  to  call  Big  Biddy  to  distinguish  her  from 
her  niece,  said  that  Minty  was  "a  swate  child,  and  she'd 
niver  forget  to  be  grateful  to  her  for  the  blissid  Christmas 
presents  she'd  given  her  of  her  brother  Timothy's  lone 
ot-phin  childer." 

And  indeed  there  was  nobody  who  seemed  much   re 

delighted  with  the  pivsenls  received  than  Middy.  She 
had  been  very  industrious  and  prudent,  and  had  saved  up 
a  snug  little  pile  of  money,  and  Teddy  and  little  Biddy 
would  never  again  be-  likely  to  know  a  time  when  Santa 
Glaus  was  too  tired  to  get  around  to  them.  I'uele  Deme 
trius  wanted  a  trustworthy  ollice  boy.  and  found  that 
Teddy  just  suited  him  :  and  TediU  finds  the  situation 
much  more  pleasant  and  prolitable  than  gathering  shav- 
ings, which  business  he  used  to  be  in,  and  lie  is  so  faithful 
and  honest  and  energetic  that  it  seems  quite  probable  he 
may  some  day  have  an  oflice  of  his  ou  n. 

Little  Biddy  did  not  return  to  the  millinery  business. 
her  aunt  Biddy  believing  that,  she  "had  the  makin's 
iv  a  scholard  intill  her."  and  preferring  to  send  her  to 
school. 

The  contents  of  a  good  many  dainty  little  purses  that 
had  hung  oil  that  Christmas  tree  on  the  first  night  of  its 
blossoming  were  poured  together,  and  given  to  the  wid- 
ow Moriarty  to  keep  the  wolf  from  her  door,  while  she 
had  rest  and  medicine  to  relieve  the  pain  in  her  side  and 
her  cough,  and  while  Micky  went  to  the  hospital  and  was 
cured  of  his  lameness. 

Sc  i  Minty  "s  saved-up  Christmas  lasted  all  the  year  round, 
and  more  too.  Indeed,  I  don't  think,  myself,  that  it  will 
ever  come  to  an  end. 

There  was  only  one  thing  about  it  that  was  not  perfect- 
ly agreeable :  Micky  showed  his  gratitude  by  lending  Lord 
George  to  Rasty  "for  jist  as  long  as  iver  he  loiked,"  and 
luxurious  surroundings  proved  to  disagree  with  Lord 
George's  disposition.  From  a  gentle  and  serious-minded 
monkey  lie  changed  into  such  a  cross  and  mischievous 
beast  that  there  was  no  living  with  him.  He  wrung  the 
parrot's  neck,  and  chewed  up  Miuty's  dearest  doll;  he 
lighted  the  gas  all  over  the  house  in  the  daytime,  and  put 
it  out  at  night  in  the  midst  of  a  dinner  party;  he  smashed 
the  window-glass  in  an  effort  to  get  out  and  follow  a  hand- 
organ  ;  he  pulled  off  the  table-cloth,  and  broke  all  the 
dishes,  and  danced  a  jig  upon  the  ruins.  But  it  was  only 


when  he  pulled  up  all  the  plants  in  the  conservatory,  and 
was  found  replanting  them  upside  down,  that  his  presence 
in  the  house  became  unendurable,  and  a  stern  decree  went 
forth  that  he  must  go. 

Rasty  carried  him  back  to  Peaceable  Court,  where  he 
immediately  resumed  his  former  amiability  and  sobriety 
of  conduct. 

And  Rasty  says  he  never  wants  another  real  live  monk- 
ey. The  pink  and  blue  china  one,  if  not  so  lively,  is  more 
satisfactory  in  the  long-run. 


oui;  SNOW  .MAX. 

BY  JIMMY  BROWN. 

I  DO  love  snow.      There  isn't  anything  except  a  hull-ter- 
rier that    is  as   beautiful  as  snow.      Mr.  Travers  says 
that  M'ven  hundred  men  once  wrote  a  poem  called  "  Beau- 
tiful Snow,"  and  that  even  then,  though  they  were  all  big 


•WE    BUILT  THE   BIGGEST   SNOW  MAN   I    EVER   HEARD    OF." 


102 


I-IAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


strong  men,  they  couldn't  find  words  enough  to  tell  how 
beautiful  it  was. 

There  are  some  people  who  like  snow,  and  some  who 
don't.  It's  very  curious,  but  that's  the  way  it  is  about  al- 
most everything.  There  are  the  Eskimos  who  live  up 
North  where  there  isn't  anything  but  snow,  and  where 
there  are  no  schools  nor  any  errands,  and  they  haven't 
anything  to  do  but  to  go  fishing,  and  skating,  and  hunting, 
and  sliding  down  hill  all  clay.  Well,  the  Eskimos  don't 
like  it,  for  people  who  have  been  there  and  seen  them  say 
they  are  dreadfully  dissatisfied.  A  nice  set  the  Eskimos 
must  be!  I  wonder  what  would  satisfy  them.  I  don't 
suppose  it's  any  use  trying  to  find  out,  for  father  says 
there's  no  limit  to  the  unreasonableness  of  some  people. 

We  ought  always  to  be  satisfied  and  contented  with 
our  condition  and  the  things  we  have.  I'm  always  con- 
tented when  I  have  what  I  want,  though  of  course  no- 
body can  expect  a  person  to  be  contented  when  things 
don't  satisfy  him.  Sue  is  real  contented,  too;  for  she's  got 
the  greatest  amount  of  new  clothes,  and  she's  going  to  be 
married  very  soon.  I  think  it's  about  time  she  was,  and 
most  everybody  else  thinks  so  too,  for  I've  heard  them  say 
so;  and  they've  said  so  more  than  ever  since  we  made  the 
snow  man. 

You  see,  it  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  and  there  had 
been  a  beautiful  snow-storm.  All  of  us  boys  were  sliding 
down  hill,  when  somebody  said,  "Let's  make  a  snow  man." 
Everybody  seemed  to  think  the  idea  was  a  good  one,  and 
we  made  up  our  minds  to  build  the  biggest  snow  man 
that  ever  was,  just  for  Christmas.  The  snow  was  about  a 
foot  thick,  and  just  hard  enough  to  out  into  slabs;  so  we 
got  a  shovel  and  went  to  work.  We  built  the  biggest 
snow  man  I  ever  heard  of.  We  made  him  hollow,  and 
Tom  McGinnis  stood  inside  of  him  and  helped  build  while 
the  rest  of  us  worked  on  the  outside.  Just  as  fast  as  we 
got  a  slab  of  snow  in  the  right  place  we  poured  water  on 
it  so  that  it  would  freeze  right  away.  We  made  the  out- 
side of  the  man  about  three  feet  thick,  and  he  was  so  tall 
that  Tom  McGinnis  had  to  keep  climbing  up  inside  of  him 
to  help  build. 

Tom  came  near  getting  into  a  dreadful  scrape,  for  we 
forgot  to  leave  a  hole  for  him  to  get  out  of,  and  when  the 
man  was  done  and  frozen  as  hard  as  a  rock,  Tom  found 
that  he  was  shut  up  as  tight  as  if  he  was  in  prison. 
Didn't  he  howl,  though,  and  beg  us  to  let  him  out!  I  told 
him  that  he  would  be  very  foolish  not  to  stay  in  the  man 
all  night,  for  he  would  be  as  warm  as  the  Eskimos  are  in 
their  snow  huts,  and  there  would  be  such  fun  when  people 
couldn't  find  him  anywhere.  But  Tom  wasn't  satisfied; 
he  began  to  talk  some  silly  nonsense  about  wanting  his 
supper.  The  idea  of  anybody  talking  about  such  a  little 
tiling  as  supper  when  they  had  such  a  chance  to  make  a 
big  stir  as  that.  Tom  always  was  an  obstinate  sort  of  fel- 
low, and  he  would  insist  upon  coming  out,  so  we  got  a 
hatchet  and  chopped  a  hole  in  the  back  of  the  man  and  let 
him  out. 

The  snow  man  was  quite  handsome,  and  we  made  him 
have  a  long  beak,  like  a  bird,  so  that  people  would  be  as- 
tonished when  they  saw  him.  It  was  that  beak  that  made 
me  think  about  the  Egyptian  gods  that  had  heads  like 
hawks  and  other  birds  and  animals,  and  must  have  fright- 
ened people  dreadfully  when  they  suddenly  met  them  near 
grave-yards  or  in  lonesome  roads. 

One  of  those  Egyptian  gods  was  made  of  stone,  and  was 
about  as  high  as  the  top  of  a  house.  He  was  called  Mem- 
non,  and  every  morning  at  sunrise  he  used  to  sing  out  with 
a  loud  voice,  just  as  the  steam-whistle  at  Mr.  Thompson's 
mill  blows  every  morning  at  sunrise  to  wake  people  up. 
The  Egyptians  thought  that  Memnon  was  something  won- 
derful, but  it  has  been  found  out.  since  the  Egyptians 
died,  that  a  priest  used  to  hide  himself  somewhere  inside  of 
Memnon.  and  made  all  the  noise. 

Looking  at  the  snow  man  and  thinking  about  the  Egypt- 


ian gods,  I  thought  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  idea  to  hide  inside 
of  him  and  say  things  whenever  people  went  by.  It  would 
be  a  new  way  of  celebrating  Christmas,  too.  They  would 
be  awfully  astonished  to  hear  a  snow  man  talk.  I  might 
even  make  him  sing  a  carol,  and  then  he'd  be  a  sort  of 
Christian  Memnon,  and  nobody  would  think  I  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it. 

That  evening  when  the  moon  got  up — it  was  a  beau- 
tiful moonlight  night — I  slipped  out  quietly  and  went  up 
to  the  hill  where  the  snow  man  was,  and  hid  inside  of  him. 
I  knew  Mr.  Travel's  and  Sue  were  out  sleigh-riding,  and 
they  hadn't  asked  me  to  go,  though  there  was  lots  of  room, 
and  I  meant  to  say  something  to  them  when  they  drove  by 
the  snow  man  that  would  make  Sue  wish  she  had  been 
a  little  more  considerate. 

Presently  I  heard  bells  and  looked  out  and  saw  a  sleigh 
coming  up  the  hill.  I  was  sure  it  was  Mr.  Travers  and 
Sue;  so  I  made  ready  for  them.  The  sleigh  came  up 
the  hill  very  slow,  and  when  it  was  nearly  opposite  to  me 
I  said  in  a  solemn  voice,  "Susan,  you  ought  to  have  been 
married  long  ago."  You  see,  I  knew  that  would  please 
Mr.  Travers,  and  it  was  true,  too. 

She  gave  a  shriek,  and  said,  "  Oh,  what's  that  ?" 

"We'll  soon  see,"  said  a  man's  voice  that  didn't  sound 
a  bit  like  Mr.  Travers's.  "There's  somebody  round  here 
that's  spoiling  for  a  thrashing." 

The  man  came  right  up  to  the  snow  man,  and  saw  my 
legs  through  the  hole,  and  got  hold  of  one  of  them  and  be- 
gan to  pull.  I  didn't  know  it,  but  the  boys  had  under- 
mined the  snow  man  on  one  side,  and  as  soon  as  the  man 
began  to  pull,  over  went  the  snow  man  and  me  right  into 
the  sleigh,  and  the  woman  screamed  again,  and  the  horse 
ran  away  and  pitched  us  out,  and — 

But  I  don't  want  to  tell  the  rest  of  it,  only  father  said 
that  I  must  be  taught  not  to  insult  respectable  ladies  like 
Miss  Susan  White,  who  is  fifty  years  old,  by  telling  them 
it  is  time  they  were  married. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  PRAYER. 

BY  WILL  OARLETON. 
I. 

THE  winter  day  was  growing  old; 
The  evening's  breath  came  hard  and  cold; 
Great  flocks  of  clouds,  with  wings  of  gray, 
Shed  feathery  snow-flakes  on  their  way; 
And  all  the  city  streets  among 
A  troupe  of  breezes  danced  and  sung. 
But  though  the  frost  was  keen  and  bold, 
And  though  the  air  was  biting  cold, 
A  thousand  gayly  stepping  feet 
Went  up  and  down  the  lighted  street; 
A  thousand  hands,  with  pressure  tight, 
Were  grasping  presents  rich  and  bright; 
A  thousand  hearts  were  hasting  home 
To  hearts  that  longed  to  see  them  come; 
For  wondrous  gladness  filled  the  air, 
And  Christmas-eve  was  everywhere. 

Sweet  Christmas-eve,  serenely  glad! 
When  all  the  love  that  Jesus  had 
For  little  ones,  as,  smiling.  He, 
With  bending  head,  in  kindness  said, 
"Forbid  them  not  to  cotne  to  Me": 
When  this  sweet  love,  with  little  lack, 
Seems  all  at  once  reflected  back, 
As  the  great  sun,  though  long  time  set, 
Against  the  clouds  in  splendor  crowds, 
And  leaves  a  trace  of  glory  yet! 
When  all  the  kind  thoughts  of  the  year 
Each  leaves  the  day  wherein  it  lay, 
And  to  one  blessed  time  draws  near! 


DECEMBER   ):>,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


103 


There  is  no  space  that  can  possess 
So  many   smiles  of  happiness: 
If  days  and  nights  could  feel  and  see, 
How  happy  Christmas-eve  would  !»•; 

But   it  has  not  so  sweet  a  sound 
In  homes  where  children   are  not    found: 
And  in  one  mansion   rich  and  grand 
A   wife  and   husband  hand  in  hand 
Were  silting  by  the  fire-light's  glow, 
Ami   gazing  on   the  streets   below. 
And.  with  sad  hearts  unreconciled. 
Were  thinking  of  a  long-lost  child. 
Grief  can  its  heaviest  hand  employ 
When  all  around  is  heard  the  sound 
Of  silvery  mirth  and  golden  joy; 
And  hearts  that  mourn   oft  heavier  weigh 
When   hearts  that  laugh  are  over  gay. 

So  on  the  Christmas  cheer  -without 
This  lonely  couple  gazed  about. 
While  hungering  once  a^ain   to  greet 
The  reckless  rush  of  childish  feet. 
I'nstudied  ease  was  all  abloom 
About  the  richly  furnished   room: 
The  coal  tire's  soft   and   languid  glare 
WMI|  •   "  ( 'omfort"  on   the  tempered  air; 
Unto  the  walls  great  picture-,  hung. 
And   treasures  everywhere   were   Hung; 
Hin'h  mirrors,  free  of  stain  or  Haw, 
Were   telling  over  what  they   saw; 
No  place  the  pleased  eye  could  explore 
But   wealth  had  lingered  there  before. 
And  yet.  in  many  a  humbler  room. 
A   warmer  comfort  fought  the  gloom, 
And   Happiness  more   visits  made. 
Felt  more  at  home,  and  longer  stayed. 

II. 

Out  in  the  country,  near  a  wood. 

The  little  old  brown  school  house  stood, 

And   waited,   while   the   winter  day 

Looked  darker  from  its  eyes  of  gray. 

For  the  rough  door  to  open   wide. 

And   noisy  youngsters  rush  outside. 

Awhile  came  sharply  from   within 

The.  country  school's  peculiar  din; 

Then   with  glad  shouts  the  children  strode 

Through   the  dim  day  their  winding  way 

Along  the  white  hard-beaten   road. 

To  where  farm  -houses  cheered   the  sight, 

And   lamps  already  glimmered   bright. 

With   unassumed.  unconscious  grace. 

And  pleasure  dancing  on  each  face. 

They  brought  the  presents  all  to  mind 

Which  they  that,  eve  were  to  receive 

Or  in  the  early  morning  find. 

"Old  Santa  Clans,"  that   famous  king 

Of  childish  lore,  was  handled  o'er. 

And  all  the  treasures  he  might  bring. 

But  look!   with  shouts  and  faces  gay. 
They  passed  a  poor-house  on  their  way, 
And  a  sweet  homeless-looking  child 
From  out  a  window  gazed,  and  smiled 
To  see  the  other  children  glad; 
But  her  poor  wistful  heart  was  sad. 

You  children  who.  with  laughter  gay, 
And  joy  that  gleams  e'en  through  your  dreams, 
Have  presents  on  each  festal  day, 
Aud,  guarded  by  the  efforts  true 


Of  those  who  love  and  cherish   you, 
Look  forward   to  the   winter's   prime 
As   to  a   sweet    and  joyful   time. 
Till   in   your  calendar  enrolled. 
Each   Christmas  (lay   is  marked   with  gold, 
Pity  poor  children    who   must    grieve 
Because   no  presents  they   receive! 
They   look  at   yours   with   wistful  eye, 
They  smile  to  view  each  token  new. 
But  in  their  hearts  they  moan  and  sigh. 

That  night  our  little  friendless  one, 

When   her  poor  evening  meal  was  done, 

Bowed   low   in   grief  her  childish  head 

Upon    the   r.-iLrued    poor-house  bed, 

And  in   a  sweet   and   pleading  tone 

She  made  a  short   prayer,  all   her  own: 

"O  Jesus!   you  who  loved  so  well 

The  little  ones,  of   whom  they  tell 

That   when    these  came  to  you   one  day, 

You   would   not   have  them    sent   away: 

You   said   to  all  those  who  believe. 

If  they    would   ask   they  should   receive. 

O  Jesus!  please  for  me  to  find 

Two  good  nice  parents,  sweet   and   kind, 

And  ask  them  if  they   will   not    spread 

Some   little   presents   by   my   bed. 

That    they   my   heart    may    cheerful   make 

To-morrow   morning  when    I    wake. 

And   I   be   made  as   happy  so 

As   other   children    that    I    know." 

She   said    "  Amen"  with    reverence   deep. 

Closed   her  blue  eyes,  and  sank  asleep. 

III. 

Still   sat    the  childless  couple  where 

The  lights  of  luxury    were    fair. 

And   still,  with    thoughts  all   tempest-tossed, 

Kaeh    silent    mused,   with   sad   heart  bruised, 

I'pon    the  child   that    they    had   lost. 

But.   listen!    with   a   sudden   clang. 

The   loudly   speaking  door-bell   rang, 

And    a    detective's    face    they    viewed, 

With    patient    lines  deep   marked   and   shrewd. 

And   scarce   the   parents'   questioning  eye 

Was    met    before    he   made   reply: 

"I   come  at    last   with   tidings  new. 

The  child  I've  sought  so  long  for  you, 

The  child   you   lost   five  years  ago. 

Has   lived,  and    lives.       Her   place    I    know. 

The  beggar  who,  with  Satan's  aid. 

Stole   her  to  help   his   piteous  trade, 

Died   in   a  country   poor-house,  where 

He  left    the  child,  and   she  is  there. 

Mistake  or  doubt  can  not  befall : 

Here  are  the   proofs;    I  have  them  all. 

She  is  not  very   far  away; 

And  you,  if  bold  to  bear  the  cold, 

May  see  her  ere  another  day." 

"'To. bear  the  cold!'     "What  has  .s7ie  borne? 

She  shall  not  longer  friendless  mourn. 

The  horses — quick!"    And   soon,  in  spite 

Of  cold  and  sleet,  the  champing  feet 

Of  swift  steeds  dashed   into  the  night, 

Until  they  halted  just  before 

The  great  poor-house's  dingy  door. 

And  soon  the  parents  softly  crept          • 

Into  the  gloom   of  one  small  room, 

And   watched  their  darling  -while  she  slept, 

And,  weeping,  listened  to  the  prayer 

Which  she  that  night  had  offered  there 


104 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


(For  the  old  matron  overheard, 
And  told  it  to  them,  every  word). 
Her  sleeping  face  appeared  to  them 
As  some  fair  flower  at  evening's  hour, 
Low  drooping  on  its  weary  stem ; 
But   that  soft  prayer — in  heaven  now — 
Had  left  its  touch  upon  her  brow; 
Its  grief  and  comfort  they  could  trace 
Upon   the  well-remembered  face. 

The  mother  yearned  the  child  to  press 
In  all  her  piteous  loveliness, 
But  would  not  yet  her  slumber  break, 
And  said,  ''My  darling  shall  not  wake 
Until  her  prayer  we  answered  see 
As  well  and  nearly  as  may  be." 

And  soon  the  sleek  swift  horses  flew 
Back  where  proud  presents,  rich  and  new, 
Hung  in  the  lamp-light's  brilliant  rays, 
The  envy  of  all  children's  gaze; 
Which,  ere  another  hour  had  fled, 
Hands  softly  bore,  and  placed  before 
The  little  sleeper's  lowly  bed. 


She  woke  at  last;   and,  wondering,  threw 

A  swift  glance  keen  upon  the  scene 

That  burst  upon  her  startled  view. 

A  vast  amazement  tilled  her  face: 

The  room  was  like  a  fairy  place. 

No  toy  she  wished  but  it  was  there; 

Bright  presents  glittered  everywhere. 

No  gift  her  thought  had  learned  to  prize 

But  it  was  spread  before  her  eyes; 

And  presents  made  her  young  heart  glow 

Whose  very  names  she  did  not  know. 

But  look!   a  man  with  step  of  pride, 

And  a  sweet  lady  by  his  side, 

More  beautiful  and  high  of  mien 

Than  any  she  had  ever  seen, 

Came,  and  above  her  wept  and  smiled, 

And  called  her  their  poor  long-lost  child ! 

The  Christmas  morn  rose  clear  and  bright; 
And  through  the  flashing  fields  of  light 
A  band  of  angels  sweet  and  fair, 
It  seemed  to  me,  came  far  to  see 
That  answer  to  the  Christmas  prayer. 


"  THE    KOUM    WAS    LIKE    A    FA1KY    PLACE."— DRAWN  BY  MRS.  JEHSIE  SHEPHERD. 


DECEMBER  19,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


105 


"'BLACK   YER   BOOTS r    CALLED    OUT   A   VOICE    AT  HIS    ELBOW."-DKAWN  BY  FREDERIC  DIELMAN. 


A   CHRISTMAS  KNIGHT. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  Jl'N. 

GUY  MELTON  was  fourteen,  and  had  always  been  a, 
quiet,  odd  sort  of  boy,  and  it  was  therefore  not  so 
very  surprising  that  he  should  want  to  have  something 
queer  for  Christinas. 

"You  see,"  he  confided  to  his  older  sister  Ruth  one  day 
in  November,  "I've  had  so  many  presents  that  I  can't 
think  of  anything1  that  would  be  quite  new,  so  if  you  and 
mother  will  just  give  me,  about  the  first  of  next  month,  the 
money  you'd  spend  for  kuickknacks,  and  let  me  do  with  it 
just  as  I  please,  I'll  be  ever  so  much  more  obliged.'' 

Just  then  Mrs.  Melton  came  into  the  room,  and  Ruth 
exclaimed :  ' '  Only  think,  mother,  Guy  doesn't  want  us  to 
give  him  any  Christmas  presents  this  year!" 


"Oh  no,  I  don't  mean  that,"  her  brother  hastened  to 
explain.  ' '  Haven't  I  just  told  you  that  I  want  the  money 
instead  of  the  things  ?  May  I  have  it,  mother,  and  the 
house  too,  for  one  day,  to  do  just  as  I  choose  with  i" 

"The  house,  Guy  !''  cried  mother  and  daughter  in  a 
breath. 

"Yes,"  went  on  the  boy;  "that  is,  I  want  permission 
to  entertain  any  one  here  I  like  from  Christmas-eve  to  the 
morning  of  the  twenty-sixth.'' 

' '  Certainly,  Guy, "  replied  his  mother.  ' '  You  know  we 
are  always  glad  to  see  your  friends.'' 

But — but  it  isn't  a  friend ;  at  least,  I  mean  not  yet, "  con- 
tinued Guy,  coloring  confusedly.  "  I'd  like  to  have  him 
stay  in  the  hall  bedroom  next  to  mine,  and  have  you  and 
Ruth  treat  him  just  as  nicely  as  you  do  Rob  Billings  or 
any  of  the  other  fellows." 


106 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"Why,  of  course,. Guy,"  put  in  his  sister,  "any  of  your 
ehums —  But  I  forget;  you  say  this  isn't  a  chum.  Who 
is  it,  then  ?'' 

"I  don't  know  exactly  myself  yet,"  answered  the  boy, 
•drawing  imaginary  figures  on  the  carpet  with  his  foot, 
"  and — and  if  you  and  mother  will  only  trust  me,  I'd  .rath- 
er not  say  anything  more  about  it  until  I  bring  him  here, 
because  my  courage  might  fail  at  the  last  moment,  you 
know,  and  then  I'd  feel  foolish.  You'll  think  it  queer 
in  me  to  make  such  a  mystery  of  it,  but  everything's  all 
right,  mother,  and  I'm  sure  you  won't  object  when  you 
know." 

Now  if  there  was  a  boy  in  New  York  who  could  be 
trusted  not  to  abuse  any  confidence  that  might  bej-eposed 
in  him,  that  boy  was  Guy  Melton.  Seeing  that  he  was 
•only  shy  and  not  ashamed  of  revealing  his  plans,  his  mo- 
ther readily  consented  to  do  as  he  wished,  promising  not 
to  bother  him  with  questions.  So  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  24th  of  December  he  started  out  in  a 
disagreeable  storm  of  snow  and  sleet  for  the  nearest  Ele- 
vated Railroad  station. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  little  early,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he 
struggled  on  against  the  wind,  "  but  I  can't  put  it  off  an- 
other minute." 

It  was  very  comfortable  in  the  cars,  whirling  along  so 
far  above  the  mud  and  slush  of  the  streets,  and  Guy  was 
tempted  to  remain  where  he  was  when  the  brakeman  call- 
ed out,  "  Park  Place." 

But  he  shook  the  lazy  fit  off,  muttered  "Christmas 
knight"  under  his  breath,  and  struck  boldly  out  in  the 
direction  of  the  City  Hall.  On  reaching  Broadway  he 
stopped  a  minute,  and  leaned  against  a  telegraph  pole, 
while  he  bent  his  head  in  a  listening  attitude. 

"Too  soon!  just  as  I  thought!"  he  exclaimed,  half 
aloud.  But  suddenly  a  cry  of,  "  Extra!  big  fire!  terrible 
loss  of  life!"  smote  upon  his  ear,  and  the  next  instant 
found  him  standing  in  front  of  a  panting  newsboy,  whom 
he  had  caught  by  the  shoulder  as  he  flew  past. 

"  Look  here,  boy,"  said  Guy,  as  he  fumbled  in  his  pock- 
et for  two  cents,  "how  do  you  expect  to  spend  your  Christ- 
mas ?" 

But  just  then  a  second  newsboy  appeared  on  the  scene, 
shouting  more  shrilly  than  the  first,  and  snatching  the 
money  from  Guy's  hand,  the  latter  tore  off  up  Broadway 
after  his  brother  vender,  determined  not  to  lose  any  time 
on  an  "extra"  afternoon  by  answering  silly  questions  for 
a  lad  not  much  older  than  himself. 

Guy  pulled  his  umbrella  down  close  over  his  head,  and 
set  his  teeth  hard  together  for  a  minute. 

"I  won't  give  up  yet,"  he  muttered,  and  then  began 
walking  slowly  down  the  street. 

"  Black  yer  boots'."  called  out  a  voice  at  his  elbow,  pro- 
ceeding from  a  small  boy,  who  was  splashing  along  in 
shoes  that  were  scarcely  more  than  sieves  serving  to  re- 
veal the  stockingless  feet  inside  of  them. 

The  child  wore  a  long  man's  coat,  reaching  nearly  to 
his  heels,  and  buttoned  so  tightly  about  his  neck  as  to 
give  rise  to  the  suspicion  that  there  was  no  other  garment 
under  it,  while  his  legs  were  but  imperfectly  covered  with 
a  pair  of  trousers  which  he  surely  never  could  have  got 
into  had  he  not  been  so  thin  and  they  so  ragged. 

"  He's  a  smaller  chap  than  I've  provided  for,"  thought 
Guy,  as  his  eye  hastily  took  in  these  details;  "but  I  don't 
know  where  I  could  make  a  better  investment."  Then  he 
smiled,  and  asked  the  young  polisher  if  anybody  ever  had 
their  boots  blacked  out-of-doors  in  such  weather.- 

"In  course  they  does,"  replied  the  urchin,  cunningly 
keeping  pace  with  the  umbrella  over  his  head.  "Gents 
goin'  in  ter  make  a  call  at  the  Astor  House  '11  let  me  shine 
'em  up  under  their  'brellies  '11'  then  run  fer  the  door. 
Saves  five  cents,  yer  know,  'cos  they  allus  charges  ten  in- 
side. But  then  "twon't  do  fer  ter'pend  on  it." 

"I  should  think  you  could  do  better  at  one  of  the  up- 


town hotels,"  suggested  Guy.  Then  laying  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  wet  shoulder,  he  added :  ' '  At  any  rate,  come  ride  up 
in  this  car  with  me;  I'll  pay  your  fare.  I  want  to  tu,lk  to 
you." 

The  boot-black  stared  in  surprise  for  an  instant;  then 
with  a  whooping,  "  I'm  there !"  he  bounded  ahead  thror.gh 
the  slush  to  the  street  car  indicated,  which  was  just  about 
to  start.  Guy  followed  as  quickly  as  a  careful  picking  of 
his  way  would  permit,  to  find  his  young  charge  engaged 
in  a  wordy  fig-lit  with  the  conductor,  who  wanted  to  put 
him  off. 

Order  being  restored  by  means  of  a  ten -cent  piece, 
young  Melton  took  his  boy  inside,  and  having  suggested 
that  he  put  his  box  under  the  seat  out  of  the  way,  began 
at  once:  "I  want  you  to  spend  Christmas  with  me.  I'll 
take  you  home  with  me  now,  give  you  a  bath,  furnish  you 
out  with  a  complete  suit  of  clothes  to  keep,  and  let  you 
hang  up  your  stocking  to-night  for —  But  here  Guy  came 
to  a  sudden  stop,  as  he  recollected  that  very  probably  his 
companion  had  never  heard  of  either  stockings  or  Santa 
Claus. 

"What  d'yer  mean?"  exclaimed  the  boot-black,  eyes 
and  mouth  wide  open.  "Hire  me  ter  black  yer  shoes  fer 
Chrissmus  ?" 

"  No.  no,"  explained  Guy.  "You  see,  I've  had  so  many 
presents  myself  that  this  year  I  thought  I'd  try  something 
new,  and  give  instead.  They  won't  worry  about  you  at 
home,  will  they  ?" 

"  Home !"  echoed  the  little  fellow.  "Well.  I  guess  Mrs. 
Brooklyn  Bridge  '11  let  me  off  fer  one  night." 

"Is  that  where  you  sleep  ?"  inquired  Guy,  with  a  glance 
out  of  the  window  at  the  storm. 

"You  bet.  It's  a  bully  place,  too,  under  one  o'  them 
arches,  if  the  cops  don't  go  fer  a  chap.  But  I'll  come 
along  o'  you ;  yer  don't  look  as  if  yer  was  a-goin'  ter  kid- 
nap me,"  and  the  lad  gave  a  laugh  that  caused  the  other 
passengers  to  stare  curiously  at  the  oddly  assorted  pair  in 
the  corner. 

But  Guy  determined  not  to  care  what  anybody  might 
think  or  say  even;  he  had  resolved  to  make  a  Christmas 
knight  of  himself  in  order  to  defend  some  poor  boy  from 
the  hardness  of  his  lot  on  that  joyous  day,  and  while  he 
could  not  help  feeling  that  his  mission  would  have  been  a 
much  easier  one  with  a  bright,  clean,  good-looking  child 
for  its  object,  he  knew  that  his  boot-black,  lacking  these 
graces,  stood  all  the  more  in  need  of  his  care  and  at- 
tention. 

Before  the  car  reached  the  up-town  street  in  which  the 

Meltons  lived,  Guy  learned  that  his  guest's  name  was  Dave 

McCue,  that  his  father  had  been  an  Irishman  and  his  mo- 

j  ther  an  American,  both  being  now  dead,  leaving  their  son  to 

J  fight  his  way  alone  in  the  world  as  best  he  could,  selling 

matches  or  papers,  blacking  boots,  and  always  mingling 

with  a  set  of  lads  whose  influence  and  example  could  be 

traced  in  the  street  slang,  and  even  worse,  with  which  the 

boy's  conversation  was  plentifully  sprinkled. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Dave  ?"  asked  Guy,  as  they  left  the 
car  and  started  to  walk  toward  Fifth  Avenue. 

"  Dunno.     Somewheres  'tween  ten  and  fifteen,  I  s'pose." 

"Can  you  read  ?" 

"Some.  Kin  tell  the  names  o'  the  papers  and  spell  out 
the  big  letters  on  the  ice-carts.  Cracky!  do  you  live  in  a 
house  like  these  yere  ?"  pointing  to  the  rows  of  brown- 
stone  fronts  011  either  side  the  street. 

"Yes,"  said  Guy,  as  he  led  the  way  up  the  steps,  and 
opened  the  door  with  his  key. 

"You're  pretty  wet,  aren't  you  ?"  he  added,  as  Dave's 
muddy  boots  left  their  marks  on  the  marble.  "I  tell 
you  what  :  suppose  you  take  off  your  shoes  here,  then 
scud  upstairs  and  get  ready  as  quick  as  you  can  for  your 
bath." 

"But  yer  just  said  I  was  awful  wet,  so  what  d'yer  want 
me  ter  get  in  any  more  water  fer  ?"  and  young  McCue  sat 


DECEMIiKK   1'.',  18S2. 


IIAllPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


107 


down  on  his  blacking  box  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in 
his  eye  that  convinced  Guy  it  would  need  all  the  inspira- 
tion of  knighthood  to  combat. 

"I'm  sure  you  don't  want  to  put  on  your  new  clothes 
over  your  old  ones,"  he  returned;  "and  as  long  as  you  are 
at  the  trouble  of  undressing,  you  might  as  well  take  a 
swim." 

"  A  swim  !"  cried  Dave,  springing  to  his  feet. 
"Pretty  much  the  same  thing,  "continued  Guy.  "We've 
got  a  big  bath-tub  upstairs,  and  you  can  have  the  water 
just  as  hot  or  cold  as  you  like." 

That  word  "swim"  settled  matters.  The  boy's  thoughts 
immediately  flew  back  to  July  and  the  joys  of  the  free 
baths  along  the  river-front,  and  his  shoes  were  off  in  a 
trice. 

"Now  you  can  carry  them  and  your  box  up  to  your 
room,  on  the  third  floor,  next  to  mine,"  directed  Guy.  as 
he  hung  up  his  coat.  "And—  But  on  turning  around 
at  this  point  he  found  that  his  guest  had  vanished. 

He  mechanically  started  for  the  front  door,  when  a  dis- 
cord of  sounds  from  the  piano  in  the  parlor  warned  him 
that  he  must  look  in  the  other  direction. 

"Oh,  please  ter  sense  me,'' pleaded  Dave,  as  his  young 
host  met  him  in  the  doorway.  "I  jest  wanted  ter  be 
able  ter  say  I'd  teched  one  o'  them  paiinies.  Guess  I  didn't 
hurt  it." 

"Oh  no,  of  course  not,"  said  Guy,  glad  to  remember 
that  his  mother  and  sister  were  out  shopping. 

There  were  more  "  Mys !"  and  "Ohs!"aiul  "  Ahs!"-  of  sur- 
prise and  delight  when  the  little  street  boy  was  ushered 
into  the  to  him  palatial  apartment  that  was  to  be  his  "  very 
own"  for  two  nights  and  a  day. 

"I  do  hope  the  suit '11  fit,"  observed  Guy.  anxiously, 
after  he  had  personally  superintended  the  bathing  process, 
and  had  induced  Dave  to  put  on  the  under-clothing — a 
portion  of  dress  with  which  he  evidently  had  very  little 
acquaintance. 

The  trousers  were  a  trifle  long,  but  that  was  not  a  bad 
fault  where  a  growing  boy  was  to  wear  them,  and  its 
happy  owner  declared  that  he  had  never  "seed  a  coat  lit 
so  fine." 

With  his  own  hands  Guy  buttoned  on  the  shirt  collar, 
tied  the  pretty  cravat,  and  brushed  the  stubborn  hair,  while 
a  pair  of  stout  boots  and  an  Astrakhan  cap  completed  I  he 
boot-black's  transformation.  Not  an  article  of  the  outfit 
was  second-hand,  for  the  generous  provider  had  resolved 
that  everything  connected  with  his  enterprise  should  pos- 
sess the  added  charm  of  newness. 

By  this  time  it  was  nearly  six  o'clock,  and  as  Guy  had 
heard  his  mother  and  sister  return  in  the  carriage  a  few 
moments  before,  he  gave  Dave  an  illustrated  story-book  to 
look  at,  and  then  went  down  to  the  next  floor  to  reveal  his 
secret. 

"I've  got  a  boot-black  upstairs,"  he  announced,  briefly, 
as  he  entered  the  sitting-room.  He  then  went  on  to  ex- 
plain his  Christmas-knight  scheme,  concluding  by  telling 
as  much  of  Dave  McCue's  history  as  he  knew. 

Ruth  listened  in  silent  amazement,  and  then,  "Aren't 
you  afraid  he  may — may  steal  something  ?"  she  suggested, 
nervously. 

At  this  Guy  looked  flrst  surprised,  and  then  hurt.  Such 
a  possibility  had  evidently  never  entered  his  head. 

"Oh,  I  can't  think  the  boy  would  do  such  a  thing,  aft- 
er all  your  kindness  to  him  !"  Mrs.  Melton  hastened  to  in- 
terpose, frowning  aside  at  her  daughter.  "How  does  he 
seem,  Guy — quiet  or  rough  ?'' 

"Well,  I  rather  guess  he's  a  mixture."  laughed  the 
young  knight.  Then  he  added,  gravely:  "But  I'm  afraid 
you  don't  quite  yet  understand  what  I  want  to  do.  You 
see,  my  idea  is  to  have  this  fellow  treated  exactly  as  if  he 
were  a  gentleman's  son:  let  him  sit  at  the  table  with  us, 
play  games,  take  him  to  drive  in  the  Park,  and  give  him 
as  g-ood  a  time  for  a  day  in  winter  as  the  free  excursions 


and  fresh -air  funds  do  in  summer.      Maybe  the  plan  won't 
work,  and  I'm  awfully  sorry  I  can't  carry  it  out  all  by  my- 

self.  hilt  I— 

"Why.  my  dear  boy,"  interrupted  his  mother,  "I'm 
only  too  glad  to  find  your  thoughts  running  in  such  chan- 
nels; and  even  if  the  first  attempt  doesn't  succeed  as  you 
would  wish,  you'll  know  better  how  to  go  to  work  next 
time.  At  any  rate,  Ruth  and  I  will  help  you  all  we  can; 
won't  we,  Ruth  ?" 

"Indeed  we  will,  mother ;  and  now  that  I  understand 
what  Guy  is  really  doing,  I  feel  quite  ashamed  that  I 
haven't  accomplished  more  in  that  line  myself.  Now  run 
up,  Sir  Knight,  and  bring  your  Arab  down-stairs  to  be 
presented,  for  it's  nearly  dinner-time.  Perhaps  I  can  get 
him  to  join  my  mission  class." 

Much  elated  by  this  display  of  sympathy  with  his  un- 
dertaking. Guy  hastened  back  to  the  hall  bedroom,  and 
invited  Dave  to  come  into  his  own  room.  The  latter 
stood  quite  still  in  wondering  admiration  as  his  quick  eye 
took  in  all  the  elegance  and  comfort  of  the  apartment. 

The  heavy  curtains,  the  well-filled  book-case,  easy-cush- 
ioned furniture,  and  odds  and  ends  on  mantel-piece  and 
table  made  it  seem  to  the  homeless  little,  lad  a  perfect  mu- 
seum, and  he  wandered  from  one  article  to  another  in  si- 
lent amazement. 

But,  "  Are  all  them  clothes  yourn  ?"  was  the  sudden  ex- 
clamation that  rather  startled  our  hero,  as  he  opened  the 
closet  where  he  kept  his  suits. 

"  Why,  of  course  they  are."  he  replied,  as  he  slipped  on 
a  black  coat,  and  looked  down  smilingly  at  the  thin  little 
face  that  was  now  twisted  into  a  pondering  frown. 

"Cracky!  what  a  lot  on  'em!  I — I  should  think  yer'd 
have  ter  git  up  in  the  night  sometimes  an'  dress  yerself, 
so's  ter  help  wear  'em  out."  and  Dave  broke  into  a  loud 
street  laugh,  which  he  cut  off  in  the  middle  by  clapping 
both  hands  over  his  mouth. 

"Come, "said  Guy,  "we'll  go  down  now  and  see  my 
mother  and  sister.  They  expect  you,  you  know." 

This  last  was  added  to  re-assure  the  boy,  who  at  men- 
tion of  the  ladies  had  stolen  up  close  to  his  new  friend's 
side,  and  hesitatingly  put  out  two  fingers  to  touch  the  lat- 
ter's  hand.  The  young  knight  gathered  all  five  of  the 
now  white  little  fingers  into  a  warm  grasp,  and  thus  hand 
in  hand  the  two  went  down  the  broad  stairways  to  the 
dining-room  back  of  the  parlor,  where  the  lights  and 
fresco  and  shining  silver,  the  cheery  grate  fire,  and  the 
warm  greetings  of  Mrs.  Melton  and  her  daughter,  fairly 
made  Dave's  head  spin  round  with  receiving  so  many  new 
impressions  at  once.  His  friends,  however,  were  thought- 
ful enough  not  to  begin  talking  to  him  right  away,  so  he 
had  time,  while  he  ate  the  soup  which  the  imposing-look- 
ing butler  handed  him,  to  grow  more  at  home  amid  his 
queer  surroundings,  which  he  took  the  opportunity  to 
stare  at  comfortably  between  the  courses.  By-and-by, 
however,  he  began  to  ask  Guy  questions  about  different 
pictures  in  the  room,  and  so  by  degrees  Mrs.  Melton  and 
Ruth  were  drawn  naturally  into  the  conversation,  and 
when  the  ice-cream  came  on,  instead  of  freezing  every- 
body into  stiffness,  it  seemed  to  melt  all  constraint  away. 

When  they  had  adjourned  to  the  parlor,  Ruth  told 
about  one  of  her  Sunday-school  boys  who  had  been  run 
over  by  a  fire-engine,  and  as  Dave  remembered  when  the 
accident  had  happened,  he  took  much  interest  in  hearing 
about  the  lad,  whose  name  had  been  in  all  the  papers. 

Then  Guy  proposed  that  his  sister  should  play  for  them, 
and  Dave  stood  at  the  corner  of  the  piano,  and  watched 
every  movement  of  her  fingers  with  the  greatest  delight, 
asking  for  "more,  more,"  until  she  declared  that  she  must 
stop,  or  it  would  be  too  late  to  explain  to  him  about  hang- 
ing up  his  stocking. 

After  this  mystery  had  been  made  clear,  they  all  went 
upstairs,  the  ladies  to  the  sitting-room,  and  the  boys  to 
Guy's  "den,"  where  he  caused  the  late  boot-black  to  sit  in 


108 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


rapt  enchantment  for  half  an  hour  or  so  while  he  display- 
ed his  proficiency  as  an  amateur  conjurer. 

"But  it's  high  time  you  went  to  bed  011  this  'night  be- 
fore Christmas,'"  cried  young  Melton,  suddenly  produ- 
cing a  long  white  stocking  in  a  most  mysterious  manner. 

This  he  presented  to  Dave,  and  then  the  two  went  into 
the  hall  bedroom,  and  hung  it  with  much  ceremony  on 
the  door  knob. 

"We  don't  have  breakfast  till  half  past  eight,  but  I 
guess  Santa  Glaus  '11  wake  you  long  before  that.  Don't 
bother  about  the  gas ;  I'll  put  it  out  for  you.  Good-night, 
Dave;''  and  Guy  held  out  his  hand. 

The.  other  grasped  it  in  both  of  his,  and  held  it  tight, 
while  he  gave  a  swift  glance  around  at  the  snowy  bed, 
soft  carpet,  and  spotless  curtains,  and  then  said,  so  low 
that  the  older  lad  could  scarcely  hear,  "You're  awful 
good  ter  me.''  Then  he  broke  away,  went  over  to  the 
window,  and  lifting  the  shade,  looked  out  into  the  street 
at  the  blinding  snow-storm  that  had  set  in,  as  if  eager  to 


*r--~"          .  ^          ~- 


DAVE    AND    THE    " 

make  the  wondrous  contrast  between  his  present  lodgings 
and  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  all  the  more  forcible. 

Guy  felt  a  big  lump  rising  in  his  throat,  which  presently 
seemed  to  burst  and  send  a  happy  sensation  all  over  him. 

Christmas  morning  dawned  upon  a  city  all  ready  for  a 
sleighing  carnival,  and  the  milkmen's  bells  awakened  our 
hero  early.  For  an  instant  he  forgot  what  day  it  was, 
and  thought  only  of  the  snow ;  then  he  remembered  the 
gladsome  anniversary,  and  instinctively  turned  his  eyes 
toward  the  table  upon  which  his  presents  had  always  been 
placed,  when  suddenly  the  recollection  of  his  knighthood 
swept  down  upon  him  in  a  flood,  and  he  felt  jollier,  as  he 
afterward  expressed  it,  than  a  dozen  new  cravat  pins  or 
expensive  rings  could  have  made  him. 

Springing  up,  he  hurriedly  dressed  himself,  and  stepped 
into  the  next  room  with  a  cheery  "Merry  Christmas!''  for 
Dave,  whom  he  found  sitting  up  in  bed,  gazing,  spell- 


bound, alternately  at  the  contents  of  his  stocking  in  his 
lap  and  at  the  table  from  Guy's  apartment  by  his  side,  on 
which  latter  lay  a  winter  overcoat,  a  rubber  suit,  and  a 
pair  of  skates. 

"It's  a  sight  better  nor  even  Barnum's  perade!''  cried 
the  happy  boy,  as  our  knight  sat  down  and  examined  each 
article,  to  their  owner's  no  small  delight. 

Out  of  the  stocking  had  come  forth  a  knife,  a  ball,  a  top, 
an  orange,  packages  of  candy,  funny  little  figures  and 
pictures,  and  numerous  other  articles  of  like  dimensions, 
dear  to  the  boyish  soul,  while  down  at  the  toe  glittered  a 
bright  five-dollar  gold  piece,  whither  Dave  had  restored  it 
for  safe-keeping. 

"Jimmiuy!  I'm  awful  rich,  ain't  I?"  he  exclaimed, 
joyously,  spreading  out  his  arms  over  his  treasures. 

Then  Guy  helped  him  arrange  them  on  the  bureau,  and 
proposed  that  he  get  ready  for  buckwheat  cakes  and  break- 
fast. In  the  dining-room  our  hero  found  some  little  pre- 
sents for  himself  from  friends  who  had  not  been  "  warn- 
ed," and  as  soon  as  the  meal  was  over,  he  started  out  with 
Dave  for  a  brisk  tramp  through  the  snow.  At  half  past 
ten  they  all  went  out  ill  the  big  sleigh,  with  prancing 
horses,  gay  plumes,  and  silvery  bells.  Away  up  to  the 
end  of  the  Park  and  out  into  the  country  they  drove,  re- 
turning just  in  time  for  lunch,  after  which  Guy  crowned 
the  pinnacle  of  delights  for  Dave  by  taking  him  to  the 
pantomime. 

When  they  came  back,  Ruth  went  with  Dave  into  the 
library  to  show  him  some  pictures,  while  Mrs.  Melton 
beckoned  her  son  into  the  parlor. 

"Guy,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  hand  Dave 
over  to  me  when  your  time  with  him  is  up  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  want  to  send  him  out  West  with  a  party  that  starts 
to-morrow  afternoon.  Ruth  and  I  have  looked  into  the 
matter,  and  have  already  paid  the  necessary  expense. 
He'll  have  a  good  home  with  a  farmer  a  friend  of  mine 
happens  to  know  personally,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  a  much 
better  opening  for  him  than  anything  we  could  find  here 
in  the  city,  where  he  has  lived  such  a  life." 

"Oh,  mother!"  was  all  Guy  could  say,  but  Mrs.  Melton 
saw  his  joy  and  gratitude  in  his  eyes,  and  then  sent  him  to 
tell  Dave,  who  was  immediately  in  raptures  at  the  prospect 
of  going  off  to  live  among  horses,  cows,  trees,  and  barns. 

"But  won't  I  ever  see  you  again  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly, 
in  a  sober  tone,  turning  to  the  boy  friend  who  had  been 
the  means  of  bringing  to  him  all  this  happiness  and  start 
in  life. 

"  To  be  sure  you  will,"  interposed  Mrs.  Melton,  who  had 
come  in  to  note  the  effect  of  the  news.  "It  isn't  so  far 
West  as  to  prevent  our  all  going  out  there  to  board  for  a 
month  or  so  next  summer,  while  I  drink  the  waters  for 
which,  you  know,  the  place  is  already  becoming  quite 
famous." 

' '  Hip,  h —  "  began  Dave,  tossing  up  an  imaginary  cap ; 
then  recollecting  that  he  was  not  in  the  City  Hall  Park, 
he  stored  away  his  enthusiasm  until  he  found  an  oppor- 
tunity to  ask  Guy  to  come  out  into  the  hall  and  see  how 
long  he  could  stand  on  his  head.  This  feat  was  interrupt- 
ed by  the  butler's  appearance  to  announce  dinner,  causing 
Dave's  heels  to  come  down  unpleasantly  close  to  that  pomp- 
ous individual's  face. 

During  the  evening  there  was  company  in  the  parlor,  so 
the  street  boy,  who  was  to  be  such  no  longer,  passed  the 
time  in  Guy's  room,  telling  the  latter  curious  stories  of  his 
past  life,  and  showing  himself  so  fondly  devoted  to  the  lad 
who  had  befriended  him,  as  to  prove  that  he  was  indeed 
looked  up  to  as  a  knight  and  hero. 

"I'll  learn  ter  write  sooii's  ever  I  kin,"  were  the  last 
words  our  friend  heard,  as  the  train  moved  out  of  the  sta- 
tion the  next  afternoon;  and  now,  in  a  pigeon-hole  of 
Guy's  desk,  there  lies  a  pile  of  letters,  each  an  advance  on 
the  other  in  penmanship  and  grammar,  and  the  whole  la- 
belled, "  From  my  boy." 


DECEMBKK   I'.',  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


i*      , 


"T1IK  OLD  WOMAN   \\llo  LIVKD  IN   A  SIKH;." 
a  Cjji'istmas  JJlan  for  Hfttlc  ffa\k, 

BY  OLIVE  wn.snx. 

Si  iM'-.  I. — AGunvK.     In  tin-  iiiKtiiin'i  tin  I,,,  of  an  <  /«</•»//<//.•<  7<w. 

Hnli  f  MOTIIKI;  MADHK.  fnllmrnl  h,/  NIN\,  .1  \(  K,  SriTKiHK.  TOM 

KVK,  'mil  ii  thronff  of  children.     Tin  c////<//-,  n  .«//,</  /,/,ii/,/ifi/i/. 

Oh  dear'  we  are  tired  and  hiinirry  and  eold. 
\uil   poor  Mother   Mailire   i-  both  weary  and  old. 
We    would    Work    if   we   could—  irive   us  something   to   do. 
If  it's  only  to  danee  a  eotillion   t'"r 

U  e'H  «iii^  for  a  -upper,  we'll  skip  and  we'll  danee. 
And  fayly  for  supper  \\ ,  -|[  h,,p  and  \\-e'll  praiu-e  ; 
Tor  pool-   Mother   Mad^e   is  both   \\ear>    an-l   old, 
And  all  of  Us  ehiMren  are  hnnirry  and  eold. 

MO-IIII. K  \l\m.i.  tin  ./  hoarst  .//.•/  .•/•„,(/•/»</  wite,lier  '-,//)  fniji,.t 

nlml.-iinl,  null  In  f  ,'rntfli  fn/i/ii/,i/  tin    i/i'minil  im/ni/ii  iitl<j\. 
Hush  !  sueh  nonsense  :  ehildren.  do.         /  will  make  \ ,  in  -ini;  a  \  une. 
M'ho  will  heed  sueh  chits  as  yon'.'          If  you  are  not  silent   -. 

'/',/.;,    turn/nil  tn   tin    ,1  nil/,  ,,<;  .   xln    Xjinll.-.t   iritll   n    irln'in  . 
l'it\.  kind   friends.     Was  there  ever  before 

\   \\oman  like  ine  in  so  dreadfn!  a  plii;h1  ': 
All  these  poor  children  were  left  at   inv  door. 
Theii-  spirits  are  hi;:li,  but    their  poor  feet   an-  sore. 

Please  »  on'l  you  help  us  to-uiirht  ? 
MOTIII-:!:  MAIX;K  (x,,!i/-H/u/':.ii,i/.  nr  tnll.i i,tj  I"  In  rit  If).    l'\  c  alwa\  s 

Ihoii'jht  Ihat  s icr  or  laler  their  father-  ami  mothers  ami  uncles 

ami  aunts  and  con-ills  would  come  home,  and  bring  me  thai   pot 
of  eold  Ihal  lies  al  the  far-auav  end  of  the  t-aiiibon.      For  indeed 


I've  been  good  to  them.  When  I've  had  plenty  I've  shared  it 
with  them,  and  growing  children  do  have  tremendous  appetites. 
They  have  had  a  whipping  now  and  then.  You  can't  bring  up 
boys  without  it  ;  and  a.s  lor  Spitfire,  poor  child,  if  it  wasn't  for  my 
rod  she'd  laugh  in  my  very  face,  and  hide  my  best  cap.  if  she 
took  the  fancy.  We  !_rot  aloni;  well  enough  till  the  tire  thai. 
burned  up  my  house,  and  the  robbers  that  plundered  my  purse, 
and  the  grasshoppers  that  ate  up  my  crops,  came  all  in  a  week. 
Now  how  can  I  keep  a  whole  orphan  asylum  without  bed  or 
board,  porridge  or  potatoes'.'  And  Nina's  so  pretty,  and  Jack's 
so  brave!  I  love  them  and  am  proud  of  them  ;  but,  oh.  what  a 
charge  for  a  poor  worn-out  old  woman!  Dearie  me!  Dearie  me! 
[•$/<£  f/ii-inrx  lii  r  ,i/ifm  an  r  In  r  In  ml,  i-"ii;i  lnrx,lftn  n  nil  fro  <ix 

X?tl'    tit*   ill    ill!    nltl  sjllill  t-linlti'ln    I'llilir.    ir/t/f/l   /HI*  li,i  H    I,  ft    ill 

the  gruff  Iji  a  jiicnii-  /uii-ti/.  iiml  .tubs  ulnud.  At  tfn'x  tin 
CHILDRKX  <i>t  ••/•//  ///  <•//.//•/(.«.  iloTHER  MADCK  jinn  ;«  "/* 
and  Jiouris/ifa  i<  mriti-li.'] 

Kehave  \<iur-ehes.  children. 
For  I  am  a   \\'iteh. 
Anil   I've   irot    a    ^'i-eat    switeh. 

There.  Toininy,  there,  stiith're.  se< 

tin   fir,  i  lii/litll/) 


[T/ni/  «ll  "•/ 
around, 


^\"hat  yon  ^et  when  you  fret, 
And  make  fun  of  my  pet. 
stop  >houtini;.  yon  children,  at  me. 


/'!  tin  if  it/tx.  iiml  .!ACK  ilixii/ijHitr*.  irlulf  NINA  fliix 
/.•i.t.tini/    "in     f/u'lil.    fnn.rinii    iiiinthi  r,    niul    hidiny 
MOTHEK   M.\D(;l':'s   .tiritf/i    luliinil   tin'   flniii'.\ 

3IornER  >[.\DGK.  I  seem  lo  be  cross,  but  I  am  only  at  my 
wits'  end.  llo\\  c\cr  shall  1  feed  and  clothe  and  shelter  such  a 
crowd  of  little  ones  any  longer'.'  Kven  if  somebody  helps  me 
now.  uhal  are  \\c  to  do  in  future'.' 

.1  AC  K  (i-i  tm  -IH'III/}.  1  am  Lining  on  an  e\])cdition.  I  may  find  a 
deserted  cabin,  where  we  may  spend  the  night  comfortably. 
Nii'\.  Mother  Madge,  take  a  nap:  and,  Nina,  have  those  children 
at.y  handkcrchicN 

\Hrit  .1  M  K.  iriiii,    NIN\.  iiii.-iiin  n  lufi/i    handkerchief  from 

Md'IMF    K    M  MII.I/S   /;.;;/.    iri/nx   tin    faC6S   if  tin     littli     ninx.\ 

'-I  have  MI  many  children.  1  don't  know  what  to  do,"  croons 
tin-  old  woman  in  her  sleep. 

i:'nt<  r  .1  u  K  (irililh/i.i;-it,il\.  Mother  Madge,  if/mt  do  you  think  V 
I  have  discovered  a  place  u  here  we  may  all  stay.  Nothing  les> 
ihan  a  treim  ndoiis  -hoe.  «hich  looks  a-  though  il  might  belong 
to  an  immense  giant. 

TOM  V\\:(xfiifiifnlhi\.    Ho'     How  can  we  eat  a  shoe? 

.1  ICK.   lie  still.  Tom. 

si'iiiiKi:.  More  likeh  ibe^iaiil  who  owns  the  shoe  will  come 
along  and  cat  im. 

TOM.    Dewur  US.      "I  course  he  will  ' 

.1  M  K.    Mother   Madge,  there  is  your  rod.     It  has  fallen  under 

\ourcliair.    1'lease  shake  ii  ai  them;  or  something. 

Tin  (  'in  i.  DIM.  N  ning  in  <-/inrnx. 

We're  in  a  land  of  iriants:  Hut  .lack  will  make  a  castle 

We  don't  know  what  to  do  of  some  old  iiinnt's  shoe. 


110 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NINA.  Brother,  let  us  all  take  hold  of  the  shoe  and  drag  it 
here,  where  we  can  look  at  it. 

[Exit  CHILDREN.     They  return,  dragging  the  shoe,  mid  plact 

it  at  the  buck  of  the  stage.'} 
ALL.   Hurrah  !     Here  it  is  ! 

MOTHER  MADGE.   Oh,  Grandmother  Goose,  what  a  huge  foot! 
SPITFIRE.  I  could  hide  in  the  toe. 
NINA.  We  might  all  live  in  it.     It  is  big  enough. 
MOTHER  MADGE.  So  it  is,  and  we  will  live  in  it.     We  will  tear 
it  down  on  the  side  and  make  a  door,  and  you,  my  children,  shall 
stay  within  while  I  keep  guard  without. 
JACK.  The  giant  may  return. 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Little  danger.  Probably  it  hurts  his  corns. 
I  think  he  has  abandoned  it,  and  here  in  the  grove  lie  will  never 
think  of  looking  for  it.  Giants  are  stupid  creatures. 

[The  CHILDREN  climb  oter  mid  into  it,  SPITFIRE  making  a 
/n'riiiii  tli .  »n  tiptoe,  us  she  gets  ready  to  spring  over  tin  top. 
Presently  her  curly  head  is  seen  peeping  out  of  a  hole  she  has 
made  in  the  toe.} 

JACK.  For  shame,  Spitfire!     Don't  make  holes  on  purpose. 
MOTHER  MADGE.  Not  in  our  only  shelter. 
JACK  (holding  tip  a  large  placard  he  finds  in  the  shoe),  sinrjs. 
Here  is  his  number :  Wears,  as  I  live, 

Old  Giant  Macumber  A  good  3U5. 

JACK  Jiangs  it  up,  saying:  When  our  ship  comes  in  they'll 
know  where  to  deliver  our  goods. 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Now,  my  chicks,  cuddle  up  closely  and  go 
to  sleep.  I  want  to  reflect.  I  think  I  can  find  you  a  breakfast. 
To-morrow  will  be  Christmas. 

CHILDREN  sing. 

Will  to-morrow  be  Christmas?  How  hang  up  our  stockings 

Pray  what  shall  we  do?  In  such  an  old  shoe? 

(They  all  begin  to  cry.) 

MOTHER  MADGE  seizes  SPITFIRE,  and  r/u-es  her  a,  shake.      The 

others  scramble  into  their  places  as  fast  as  they  can,  singing : 

Don't,  don't  whip  us  ;  we'll  be  good. 

Curtain  fall*  'in  Nr'i  nt,  I. 

SCENE  II. — S.'ane  rather  dark.  Shoe  seen  in  the  slnnlmr.  JACK 
and  NINA  in  the  foreground ' ;  the  latti  e  Imning  against  her 
brother,  and  fast  as/up. 

JACK.  Poor  little  Nina!  She  was  so  very  tired.  Heigh-ho!  I 
am  the  same,  but  I  will  keep  awake  until  Mother  Madge  comes 
back.  I  must  not  sleep  on  guard. 

NINA  dimming).  I  am  not  asleep.  Jack  dear.  I  only  closed 
my  eyes  for  a  second.  I  wish  Mother  Madge  was  here.  I  shiver 
with  dread  lest  the  giant  should  return. 

JACK.  Do  not  fear;  I  will  be  your  valiant  defender.  If  he 
comes  (Jack  rises  mid  flourishes  his  arm),  I  will  s&y,  "Avaunt! 
base  craven;  this  shoe  is  mine." 

NINA.  But  that  would  not  be  true.  Jack. 

JACK.  Why,  I  found  it,  and  our  family  rills  it.  If  he  attempted 
to  take  it  from  us  I  would  kill  him. 

CHILDREN  swarm  out  of  the  s7ioe,  singing. 
Jack  would  kill  the  giant;  Jack  would  kill  the  (riant- 

Jack  is  very  strong;  Thus  we  sing  our  song. 

[At  this  ni"  nn  nl  t/u  i/  ilismri  r  the  -/i/ariii'd  mi  NINA'S  hi  irk  n  in!  shunt 
irith  laughter.  JACK  attempts  to  punish  TOM  for  harimj  put 
it  vn,  mid  the  ntln  rs  take  his  part.  In  tin  si/na/ihli-  the  shne 
is  -upset,  and  in  the  confusion  MOTHER  MADGE  re-enters.} 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Hoity-toity!  Is  this  the  way  you  perform 
when  I  go  out,  quarrelling  and  pulling  the  house  down  about 
your  ears?  Jack,  set  it  up,  while  1  chastise  these  mumlity  chil- 
dren. (She  flies  around,  brandishing  her  rod.  When  order  is  re- 
stni'i  il  sin  sni/s) :  Now,  Nina  and  Jack,  the  time  has  come  to  tell  you 
an  important  secret.  Many  moons  ago  your  father,  King  Thun- 
derbolt, was  summoned  away  to  a  great  war.  He  marched  off 
with  a  grand  retinue,  colors  flying,  drums  beating,  and  bugles 
sounding,  and  before  lie  went  he  gave  me,  an  old  retainer  of  the 
court,  you.  his  darling  children,  to  care  for,  and  also  his  little 
nieces  and  nephews,  children  of  the  chiefs  who  went  with  him. 
I  had  a  large  and  pleasant  house,  and  plenty  of  gold  and  silver, 
and  you  know  how  carefully  I  have  watched  over  my  charge  till 
yr-irnlav,  when  we  were'  driven  away  by  a  cruel  band  of  rebels 
and  robbers.  It  is  well  they  did  not  dream  whose  children  you 
were,  or  they  would  have  killed  you. 

JACK.  But  King  Thunderbolt  and  his  army — will  they  never 
return? 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Alas  !  I  fear  they  have  all  perished. 

Chorus  from  the  Shoe. 
Oh,  never  lose  heart  when  the  days  are  so  dark; 

Through  the  storm  and  the  rain  there  is  hrl| nnng.    Hark! 

Ami,  kind  Mother  M;idge,  you  must  never  be  blue, 
For  plenty  of  sunshine  will  come  to  the  shoe. 

NINA.  Hush!  children;  the  ground  shakes  as  if  with  an  earth- 
quake. What  can  be  the  matter? 

[A  loip  rumbling  -is  heard,  and  a  niassice  tread  conies  -nearer. 
B — r — r — r — r.  Burrrr.  Burrrr.] 


CHILDREN  (shrinking  in  terror).  Oh  dear  !  the  giant!  the  giant! 

NINA  (flying  into  Jack's  arms).  Dear  Jack,  he  will  crush  us  all 
under  his  mighty  feet. 

MOTHER  MADGE  (brarely).  No,  children;  giants  are  ponderous 
creatures,  but  they  are  kind.  I  would  be  much  more  afraid  of  a 
spiteful  dwarf. 

JACK.  I  suppose  he  wants  to  have  his  shoe  half-soled. 

TOM  FYE.  In  that  case  we  are  all  sold. 

NINA.  Puns  are  vulgar ;  and,  oh,  Tom  !  how  can  you  pun  at 
such  a  moment  ? 

INVISIBLE  GIANT  (groaning  fearfully).  I  certainly  left  my  best 
shoe  here,  I  remember.  It  pinched  a  little,  and  1  threw  it  off 
after  dinner,  when  I  lay  down  for  a  nap.  It  must  have  rolled 
farther  than  I  thought.  How  I  do  hate  new  shoes!  The  fairies 
sell  so  few  nowadays,  and  leather  is  not  what  it  used  to  be  when 
I  was  a  boy.  Burrrr! 

JACK.  Just  hear  that ! 

SPITFIRE  (irith  a  giggle).  When  he  was  a  boy!  I  thought  giants 
were  always  as  big  as  a  house,  even  when  they  were  little. 

GIANT.   Well,  I'll  find  that  shoe,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Gruff. 
I  believe  it's  over  in  that  grove.     I'm  going  to  see.     Am  I  to  go 
flippety-flop,  hippety-hop,  all  my  life  for  the  want  of  it  ?     Not  I. 
[GlANT  approaches,  irith  sloir  and  huiri/  triad,  rolling  as  he 
iralks.     He  sees  the  shoe  and  catches  it,  giving  a  shake,  irhieh 
tumbles  all  the  children  out  in  a  hunch.    The  GIANT  drops  the 
shoe,  and  raises  both  hands  in  dismay.} 

GIANT.  Well,  what  on  earth  !  mice,  hares,  robins,  little  fishes, 
BABIES  !  What  have  we  here  ?  Babies,  on  my  honor,  actually 
asleep,  a  crowd  of  'em,  in  my  poor  old  shoe.  Horrors  !  They're 
going  to  cry  !  I  can  not  stand  children's  crying.  It  upsets  my 
nerves,  and  gives  me  a  headache.  Will  somebody  not  a  baby 
tell  me  what  this  means  ? 

NINA  (iriirinij  buck  MOTHER  MADGE).  Oh.  Giant  Gruff,  you  dear, 
good,  darling,  beautiful  Giant!  if  you'll  forgive  us  for  taking  such 
a  liberty  we'll  never,  never  do  so  again.  We  saw  the  shoe — such 
a  pretty  one  too! — and  we  thought  it  would  not  be  wrong — poor 
mother  and  my  brothers  and  sisters  were  so  tired — and  so  we — 
borrowed  it  for  a  little  while;  but  we'll  draw  it  back  for  you 
again,  dear  giant. 

GIANT.  Humph  !  you're  a  little  lad}*,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
It's  hard  for  me  to  go  barefoot,  though,  especially  on  one  foot. 
But  I'll  tell  you  what:  I'll  lend  you  the  shoe,  while  I  take  anoth- 
er nap,  if  that  baby  (pointing  to  SPITFIEE)  will  come  here  and 
give  me  a  kiss. 

SPITFIRE  (pouting).  I'm  not  a  baby,  but  I'll  oblige  you.  Only 
how  am  I  to  climb  to  your  cheeks  without  a  step-ladder? 

GIANT.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Why,  I'll  stoop  down  and  kiss  you,  little 
Spitfire.  Good-bye. 

GlANT  ir/thdrmrs.  In  the  distance  are  /mini  hums,  drums, 
mii/trinnpils.  CHILDREN,  scrambling  into  the  shoe,  sing  softly. 

We  are  ever  so  sleepy,  we're  hungry  and  sad, 
And  so  we  will  sing,  and  we'll  try  to  be  glad; 
Though  poor  Mother  Madge  is  so  awfully  blue, 
And  soou  we  must  leave  the  dear  giant's  nice  shoe. 

NINA.  For  pity's  sake,  children,  be  silent.  The  music  is  draw- 
ing nearer.  Here  conies  a  splendid  gentleman  in  a  purple  velvet 
coat,  faced  with  gold  lace. 

[MOTHER  MADGE,  sti  pping  in  f  runt  of  the  shoe  (out  of  irhich  the, 
children  flutter  like  a  throng  of  birds)  and  extending  her  skirts, 
dm  I  is  n  Inn-  en  it  r  test/.] 

Knti  /•  the  KING.     His  men  •/••  main  ,-isible  at  the  edge  of  the  grace, 
and  he  adrmn-is  nlmie. 

KING.  Why,  madam,  what  may  this  be?  Who  are  you,  and 
what  sort,  of  establishment  is  this  ? 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Generous  sire,  they  are  my  children,  and  I 
will  die  rather  than  see  a  hair  of  their  heads  hurt. 

KING.  Who  wants  to  hurt  them?  Not  my  friend,  good  Giant 
Gruff,  who  has  just  gone  to  sleep  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  around 
which  we  came.  Upon  my  word,  your  house  looks  as  if  it  might 
be  the  poor  giant's  lost  shoe  over  which  he  was  lamenting.  We 
heard  his  groans,  but  our  music  put  him  to  sleep.  Nobody  will 
hurt  you,  good  woman,  but  I  want  your  children  to  sing  for  me 
merrily. 

MOTHER  MADGE.  You  hear,  children;  you  arc  to  sing  merrily 
now  for  his  Majesty.  Be  quick,  or  I'll  have  to  get  my  rod. 

CHILDREN.  Merrily,  cheerily,  tra  la  la ! 

Here  is  a  King  come  home  from  war. 
Merrily,  cheerily  we  will  sing- 
Supper  at  last  the  King  will  bring. 

MOTHER  MADGE.  Pray  pardon  them,  sire.  They  are  almost 
starved.  We  have  been  plundered  and  robbed,  and  our  home 
was  destroyed — 

And  the  best  we  could  do  was  to  live  in  a  shoe. 

KING.  Whose  children  arc  these? 

MOTHER  MADGE.  King  Thunderbolt,  who  went  far  away  to 
the  \\  ars.  was  the  father  of  Nina  and  Jack;  and  their  little  cousins 
too  are  all  of  royal  blood. 

KING.  And  are  you,  good  dame,  my  faithful  Madge,  and  you  do 
not  know  me!  1  am  Thunderbolt! 


DECEMBER  1'.',  1882. 


HAIil'KU'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Ill 


MOTIII-'.H  MAIMIK  (i''iiirti.*>i<iiij  1mr\.   Pardon  me;  for  indeed,  my 
Kinir.  yi in  :inj  chanirrd.     Here  an-  your  children.     Here  is  Prince 

,Iae^;    there  is  tile    IYiliri-s  Xitia. 

(Tin    tirn  xti  I*  J'ni-ir,ir<l  and  I.'-.™  tin  il-  fntln  c'x  /«.///•/.       ///    lti>/x  Ilia 

/ni  a  1 1  mi  .TACK'S  In  ml  a  ml  kixu'.i  NIXA.     Tin  "tin  r  rliihln  »  c«.\//  for 
ir,i,-il  i-rj/ii,;/.   "Pupa,  papal   Uncle  Thunderbolt !  welcome  liiiine'"i 
KING.  Enough  to  drive  oue  crazv.     How  have  you  ever  sur- 
vived? 

MOTHER  MADGE  (yayly).  Oh,  I've  rocked  them,  anil  kissed   them,  and 

e.ilMM   1  nem  "  My  dear," 

And  watched  them  with  pleasure,  sire,  year  after  year; 
Anil  now  ami  then  ;iven  them  milk,  broth,  and  hivad. 
And  whipped  them  all  soundly,  and  sent  them  to  bed. 

Kixci.  Mother  Madge,  you  are  a  little  general.     Now,  then,  for 
in  camp,  and  these  famished  appetites  shall  lie  satisfied. 
Curtain  falls  on  kicene  II. 


SCENE  III. — Kixc  mnf  MOTHER  MADGE  seated  near  im'li  "tin  /-. 

tlliil  sill-milli'liil  lit/  i-iiiirtii  l-s.      .\/IIKII-  i if  tliftl-illlii  nt.i.      ClIII. 

DUKN   i/ii/n'i    iinrrili/  tn  n   li'jht  measure.     At  a  signal  tiny 
jMiti.it,  itinf  tiifti.  Iniltldiij  tin  /m/i<l  nf  Itix  purlin  r,  .tings. 

No  iiiori-  we  an-  tired  jind  hungry  and  eold  ; 
Our  hearts  an-  as  li;ht  as  our  footsteps  are  hold. 
The  Kin;  has  come  tionie,  and  we  bend  at  his  tVrt  : 
We  Ime  him,  we  serve  him — our  good  Km;  we  ;reet. 


KING.  Now.  Jack  and  Nina,  on  this  Christmas-day 
Be  good,  and  with  your  kind  proteetor  stay. 
Ere  Ion;  my  palace  shall  re-opened  be, 
And  there  you  all  shall  eonie  and  live  with  me. 
And  on  the' wall  we'll  paint  a  mighty  shoe. 
Like  that  whieli  yesterday  your  praises  drew7. 
You.  -liiek.  shall  learn  the  ways  of  martial  men, 
And  Nina  he  a  Queen's  sweet  ehild  again  ; 
And  all  the  little  ones  he  kind  and  true; 
And  don't  forget  the  Giant's  friendly  shoe. 
Parting  !xiny.  We'll  all  be  good,  we'll  all  be  kind. 

And  Mother  Madge  \ye  all  will  mind, 

The  only  thin;  we  wish  to-day 

Is  that  her  rod  were  thrown  away. 

AB  any  nnmber  of  children  may  take  part  in  this  piny,  it  is  well  adapted  for 
BChool  exhibitions.  Mmum;  MAHUK  should  have  a  riiund,  m-y  fan-,  to  con- 
trast \\ith  her  assumed  character  of  a  decrepit  old  wuluaii.  The  shue  may  be 
made  of  pasteboard,  and  covered  wuli  black  nnitlm. 


COSTUMES. 

MoTiiEr.  MAPGF.,  in  pcnrlet  petticoat.  b;oc:uled  ovcr-tlress,  snowv  cap,  and  em- 
ln.iiileieil  apron  ;  hiirh-tieeled  slippers,  reticule,  and  rod  at  lier  side. 

JATK  wears  knee-breeches,  blotl>e,  cap,  anil  Ion;  ostrirb  fejitlier. 

NINA,  quaint  die>^,  in  rich  colors.     The  (_'HM.HI:KS,  prettily  dressed. 

KING,  in  velvet  and  ;old,  with  crown  anil  Mepire. 

GIANT.  A  yotin;  ;etillenian  wi;h  a  deep  voice  should  take  this  part.  The 
GIANT'S  hei;bl  may  he  added  to  \>y  his  holding  up  a  very  larjie  lironm, 
which  tiiity  lie  draped  by  a  full  military  cloak  or  1111  old-fashioned  water- 
proof, am!  crowned  by  a  fireman's  hat.  The  GIANT  must  keep  well  in  ihe 
shadow  He  mi;ht  even  remain  invisible  in  ease  tliere  should  be  any 
great  difficulty  in  anatiirin;  his  height  and  costume. 


A    CHRISTMAS    CAROL. 


WORDS  BY  MRS.  M.  E.  SANGSTEK. 


MDSIC  BT  WALTER  R.  JOHNSTON. 

RaU. -~^      - . .  a  tempo. 


Come,  chil  -  dren,  with    sing  •  ing,  With  sweet  voi  -  ces      ring  -  ing,   Come  kneel    to     the    Babe    that    in       Beth  -  le  -  hem    lies, While 


- 

~~  ~ 


Ores 


an  -  gels      a        choir,  a          choir 


With     pin-  ions    of        fire,     of         fire 


EEp          I  =p^E£sli|^E^= 


r- 


Fed. 


mu  -  tic       the      list    -    'niug  ekies.    With     rnu  -  sic      the      li~t 


'ning      ekies 


f=       ^E=  ^=   =5^=  ~i 


-*?-                 L- f—  — rg-^— 
jEg— * g~  Strffr- 


—  t— — , 1 .^ —  ~>. — i — 

— • , 1 — . 1 , — , — 


Repeat  the.  dear  story 

How.  leaving  His  glory. 
The  Hope  of  the  ages  came  down  to  the  eartb. 

Oil.  worship  Him  lowlv. 

The  lofty  and  holy. 
Our  Star  of  the  Morning  shone  out  at  His  birth. 

See  Mary  enfold  Him 

While  shepherds  behold  Him. 
And  sages  are  bent  at  His  beautiful  feet. 

Come,  haste  to  adore  Him. 

And,  bowing  before  Him. 
The  Christ  who  redeems  you  in  reverence  greet. 


This  wonderful  Stranger, 

His  couch  is  a  manger, 
His  cradle  is  made  with  the  cattle  in  stall  ; 

Yet  God  of  creation 

In  blest  incarnation, 
He  stoops  to  our  nature  to  ransom  us  all. 

Rock,  bells,  in  the  steeple, 

Shout  loudly,  good  people. 
And,  children,  oh,  merrily,  merrily  sing  ! 

<  )'er  land  and  o'er  ocean 

With  joyful  commotion 
Send  forth  the  glad  tidings  that  Jesus  is  King. 


112 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV 


CHRISTMAS    GREENS. 
'  So  now  is  come  our  joyful'st  feast ;  Each  room  with  ivy  leaves  is  dresst, 


Let  every  man  be  jolly; 


And  every  post  with  holly." 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  165. 


PUBLISHED  I:Y    II  A  IM'KIt  ,V    I'.R<  >TI  I  KKS.  Xi:w  YOKK. 


PRICE    FOUR   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  December  28, 1882. 


Copyright,  15?-.',  by  HAKPEK  A  KKVTKKH*. 


$1. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


NEW-TEAR   CAKES. 


114 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


PERIL  AND  PRIVATION. 

BY  JAMES  PAYN. 


A    CASTAWAY    AMBASSADOR. 
I. 

IN  all  narratives  of  ordinary  life,  and  even  in  fiction,  the 
fact  of  the  persons  described  being  foreigners  (i.  e.,  speak- 
ing1 another  language),  or  of  the  incidents  having  taken 
place  many  years  ago,  is  found  greatly  to  detract  from  the 
interest  of  the  story. 

This  holds  good  even  in  accounts  of  shipwrecks.  The 
perils  of  a  crew  of  Malays  or  Chinese  would  but  slightly 
move  us  in  comparison  with  those  of  English  or  Americans. 
Nevertheless,  there  are  a  few  cases,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing is  one,  in  which  the  foreign  element,  by  reason  of  its 
strangeness,  and  also  of  a  certain  unfitness  to  deal  with 
dangers  with  which  our  own  sailors  are  familiar,  is  of 
itself  attractive. 

Imagine  three  Siamese  ambassadors,  unaccustomed  to 
the  sea,  accompanied  by  a  retinue  of  long-robed  attend- 
ants, and  full  of  the  most  artificial  and  fanciful  ideas  of 
human  life,  suddenly  finding  themselves  thrown  upon 
their  own  resources,  having  to  climb  mountains,  swim 
rivers,  deal  with  savages  of  the  most  ignorant  type,  and 
devour  mussels  and  sea-weed,  contrary  to  their  religion. 

It  is  a  picture  which  would  be  ridiculous  but  for  "the 
pity  of  it."  Its  absurdity  is  immensely  increased  by  their 
conviction  of  the  importance  of  their  mission,  and  of  the 
greatness  of  the  King  their  master,  to  whose  dispatches 
(which  had  probably  nothing  in  them  but  observations  on 
the  weather  or  on  the  state  of  his  own  health)  they  clung 
with  a  loyal  persistence  that  could  not  have  been  exceeded 
had  they  been  the  original  MSS.  of  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

The  name  of  one  of  these  voyagers  is  peculiar:  Occum 
Chamnam,  a  mandarin  of  Siam,  bound  with  two  other 
great  mandarins,  six  others  of  inferior  rank,  and  an  im- 
mense retinue,  on  an  embassy  to  the  court  of  Portugal. 
They  embark  on  the  27th  of  January,  1686,  on  board  a 
Portuguese  vessel  of  thirty  guns  and  150  men,  with  many 
passengers  besides  themselves,  "  including  three  monks  of 
different  orders,  and  a  number  of  Creoles,  Indians,  Portu- 
guese, and  Mestees,  a  people  of  color."  It  was  what  is 
called  in  these  clays  rather  a  "scratch  lot,"  which  one  can 
easily  imagine  at  any  crisis  of  peril  or  misfortune  would  fly 
asunder  from  one  another  like  the  contents  of  a  burst  shell. 

When  in  sight,  as  they  imagined  "by  certain  marks" 
(in  which  they  were  quite  wrong),  of  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  the  huge  unwieldy  vessel  struck  on  a  rock,  and 
stuck  there.  Occum  Chamnam  describes  the  scene  in  a 
simple  manner,  which  is  quite  refreshing.  "I  can  not 
picture  the  terror  and  consternation.which  then  prevailed. 
Who  can  figure  the  emotions  excited  by  certain  death  to 
so  many  ?  Nothing  was  heard  but  shrieks,  sighs,  and 
groans.  People  rushed  rudely  together."  Ceremonial, 
which  was  poor  Occum's  natural  atmosphere,  seems  to 
have  been  neglected  altogether.  ''Those  who  had  been 
the  bitterest  enemies  were  now  reconciled  in  all  sincerity. 
The  tumult  was  such  that  it  deafened  the  crashing  of  the 
vessel,  breaking  into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  the  noise  of 
the  waves  dashing  with  incredible  fury  against  the  rocks 
.  . .  .My  own  affright  was  not  less  than  that  of  others  until, 
being  assured  that  there  was  some  chance  of  escape,  and 
seeing  that  I  personally  should  not  lose,  much  by  this  ship- 
wreck, I  summoned  up  some  resolution.  I  had  two  good 
habits,  which  I  put  on,  and  then  committing  myself  to 
several  planks  tied  together,  endeavored  to  reach  the  shore. 
Our  second  ambassador,  the  strongest  and  best  swimmer 
of  the  three,  was  already  before  me,  carrying  the  King's 
dispatches,  fastened  to  a  sabre  with  which  his  Majesty  had 
presented  him." 

They  had  neither  water,  wine,  nor  bread,  and  the  cold, 
in  spite  of  his  "two  habits,"  struck  to  the  very  marrow  of 
the  poor  Eastern.  The  next  morning  he  accordingly  re- 


turned to  the  wreck  upon  a  kind  of  hurdle,  trusting  to  find 
food  and  raiment.  Everything,  however,  was  full  of  wa- 
ter, and  he  could  only  obtain  some  pieces  of  gold  stuff,  a 
small  case  containing  six  flasks  of  wine,  and  a  portion  of 
biscuit,  "so  bitter  from  the  salt-water  that  I  could  not 
swallow  a  single  mouthful." 

As  many  Siamese  had  escaped  quite  naked.  Occum 
shared  the  gold  stuff  with  them,  but  "sensible  that  the 
wine  would  not  last  long  in  their  hands,"  he  intrusted  it  to 
a  Portuguese,  "who  had  testified  great  friendship  for  me, 
telling  him  it  was  at  his  command,  providing  he  would  give 
me  some  of  it  when  required.  I  soon,  alas!  had  occasion 
to  learn  the  weakness  of  friendship  when  opposed  to  the 
impulse  of  necessity,  and  that  self,  under  the  pressure  of 
want,  is  the  first  consideration.  My  friend  daily  supplied 
me  with  half  a  glass  of  wine  for  the  first  few  days  in  the 
confidence  of  our  discovering  a  spring  or  rivulet ;  but  find- 
ing ourselves  disappointed,  my  requests  for  what  I  had  be- 
stowed in  the  warmth  of  friendship  were  vain."  Indeed, 
the  Portuguese  gave  him  so  effectual  a  repulse,  saying 
that  "  even  his  own  father  should  not  have  a  drop  of  it," 
that  the  unfortunate  ambassador  felt  that  he  had  exhaust- 
ed the  resources  of  argument,  and  did  not  try  again. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  conduct  of  this  scoundrel  was 
only  an  instance  of  the  whole  behavior  of  his  countrymen 
toward  the  Siamese.  Above  two  hundred  of  the  ship's 
company  had  reached  the  land — a  barren  and  uninhabita- 
ble shore;  and  on  the  second  day  they  started  along  the 
coast — just  as  the  crew  of  the  Grosvenor  were  fated  to  do 
a  hundred  years  afterward — in  the  expectation  of  reach- 
ing the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  The  pilots  and  captain  cal- 
culated that  it  was  but  twenty  leagues  away,  so  that ' '  most 
of  the  company  left  behind  what  provisions  they  had  ob- 
tained from  the  ship,  so  as  not  to  be  embarrassed  by  them." 

They  soon,  therefore,  began  to  feel  the  pinch  of  hun- 
ger, though  it  was  almost  unnoticed  in  the  pangs  of  thirst. 
Their  road  was  through  bushes  which  afforded  no  shelter 
from  the  burning  sun,  and  in  forty-eight  hours  they  only 
came  upon  one  well,  the  waters  of  which  were  so  brackish 
as  to  be  undrinkable.  The  chief  ambassador  being  in 
feeble  health,  the  Siamese  could  not  march  quickly,  and 
the  Portuguese  went  on  ahead,  always  watched  by  the  for- 
mer with  a  touching  anxiety,  since  they  had  confidence  in 
their  skill  and  endurance,  in  which  they  knew  themselves 
to  be  deficient;  but  they  soon  became  secretly  aware  that 
the  Portuguese  did  not  wish  their  companionship,  and  in 
fact  were  deserting  them. 

Presently  the  first  ambassador  became  so  ill  that  he  in- 
sisted on  being  left  behind,  so  that  the  rest  should  no 
longer  be  delayed,  but  hasten  on  to  the  Dutch  settlement, 
whence  help  might  be  sent  to  him.  "A  youth  of  fifteen, 
the  son  of  a  mandarin,  between  whom  and  the  ambassa- 
dor existed  a  mutual  affection,  refused  to  leave  him,  and 
this  conduct  inspired  an  old  domestic,  who  also  remained 
with  his  master." 

Once,  and  even  twice,  the  Siamese  came  up  with  the 
Portuguese,  but  without  either  signs  of  welcome  or  repul- 
sion ;  famine  and  fatigue  were  doing  their  accustomed 
work,  and  nothing  but  the  possession  of  food  or  drink 
had  much  interest  for  any  one.  Their  principal  support 
was  mussels,  and  certain  bitter  leaves  which  grew  above 
high-water  mark.  Their  signs  and  dumb  entreaties  for 
food,  joined  doubtless  to  their  strange  appearance,  were 
only  responded  to  by  the  natives  "  with  shouts  of  laugh- 
ter." When  they  evinced  their  desire  to  purchase  some 
of  the  sheep  and  oxen,  which  were,  grazing  in  great  num- 
bers throughout  the  country,  they  replied,  "Tabac"  (mean- 
ing tobacco),  or  "  Patafac"  (meaning  patacas),  the  only 
coin  they  knew.  The  pilot,  indeed,  had  a  few  of  the  lat- 
ter, and  bought  an  ox  with  them,  but  divided  it  solely 
among  his  fellow-countrymen.  None  of  the  Siamese  ob- 
tained a  single  mouthful. 

Occum  offered  two  large  diamonds  for  a  sheep,  which 


DECEMBER  26.  1S82. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


115 


were  refused  with  disdain  ;  but  wlien  one  of  the  mandarins 
adorned  his  head  with  certain  gold  ornaments,  the  natives 
gave  him  a  quarter  of  a  sheep  for  them,  which  was  eaten 
raw.  A  Hottentot  once  took  a  fancy  to  the  gold  buttons 
on  an  unfortunate  diplomatist's  robe,  and  "I  made  signs 
that  lie  should  have  them  in  return  for  something  to  eat; 
but  judge  of  my  disappointment  when  he  only  brought 
with  him  a  small  vessel  of  milk" — probably  the  dearest 
milk  that  was  ever  sold. 

The  last  solid  food  of  which  they  partook  was  the  skin  of 
the  ox  purchased  by  the  pilot,  and  which  the  Portuguese 
had  thrown  away.  After  that  they  were  so  fortunate  as 
to  find  a  peninsula  covered  with  mussels,  where  they  re- 
mained two  days,  as  in  an  oasis  of  plenty.  "A  slender 
serpent,  lulled  with  a  dagger,  was  eaten  head,  skin,  bones, 
and  all";  and  then,  as  they  dragged  themselves  upon  their 
weary  way,  starvation  set  in  with  all  its  horrors.  It  was 
on  awaking  from  a  heavy  sleep,  induced  by  extreme  ex- 
haustion, that  the  poor  Siamese  discovered  one  morning 
that  the  Portuguese  had  finally  deserted  them.  "  In  vain 
we  looked  around,  shouted,  and  sought  everywhere;  not 
only  were  we  unable  to  see  a  single  one  of  them,  but  could 
not  discover  the  route  they  had  taken." 
[TO  BE  coxTixrun.] 


NAN.* 

BY    ilRS.  JOHN"    I.II.I.IE. 

At'TIlOU  OF  "  MILDRED'S  BAKOAIN,"   "  Al'XT   ItUTU's  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"TIIHERE!"  exclaimed  Nan,  shutting  her  exercise  book 

_L    with  a  bang.      "  There,  Miss  Prior,  it  is  finished  I" 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  Miss  Prior  answered,  very  calm- 
ly. "Look  how  you  have  blotted  it." 

Nan's  countenance  fell.  Her  one  idea  had  been  haste, 
and  it  was  quite  true  that  the  exercise,  though  all  written, 
was  blotted  heavily. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  she  said,  grumblingly. 

"Write  it  over  again, "  rejoined  the  governess,  in  her 
iciest  tones. 

•'  ( >li.  Miss  Prior,  I  can't !     I  shall  bo  too  late." 

"  You  know  my  rule,  Annice,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  can 
never  hope  to  correct  your  giddy,  disorderly  ways  if  1  once 
overlook  anything.  C'onie:  '  l,a  Cigale  ayant  chante.'" 
And  Miss  Prior,  without  relaxing  a  muscle  of  her  face, 
began  to  dictate  the  exercise  which  Nan  had  just  written. 

The  room  in  which  Nan  and  her  governess  were  seated 
was  one  which  had,  half  a  century  before,  been  Miss  Rolf's 
own  school-room.  It  had  been  unused  so  long  that  every- 
thing looked  faded  and  more  old-fashioned  even  than  in 
any  other  part  of  the  large  house.  The  first  time  Nan 
entered  it  she  thought  what  a  lovely  place  it  would  be  to 
romp  in,  for  it  was  so  large  and  the  furniture  so  scant ; 
but  under  Miss  Prior's  rule  romping  anywhere.  Nan.  dis- 
covered, would  be  considered  most  unpardonable. 

A  faded  Turkey  carpet  of  indefinite  reds  was  on  the  floor; 
some  old-fashioned  maps  and  charts  hung  on  the  walls 
between  the  four  windows — one  at  each  end,  two  at  the 
side;  there  were  globes  and  one  or  two  desks.  A  piano 
of  more  recent  date  than  the  rest  of  the  furniture — though 
rather  a  "tin  pan''  at  best,  Nan  thought — stood  between 
two  of  the  windows,  and  there  was  an  elaborate  chemical 
apparatus,  which  Nan  longed  to  have  some  day  entirely 
to  herself.  Nan's  desk  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room — 
Miss  Prior  objected  to  her  being  near  the  windows — and 
the  governess  always  occupied  a  stiff  chair  near  a  little 
table  at  her  right. 

Now,  with  all  Nan's  lack  of  education  and  the  vulgari- 
ty of  her  recent  surroundings,  she  dearly  loved  to  see  pret- 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPLE. 


ty  objects  about  her,  to  have  bright  soft  colors  in  view — 
something  to  please  her  eye  as  well  as  her  heart.  The 
dreary  school-room  oppressed  her  even  in  this  soft  May 
weather;  but  Miss  Prior  oppressed  her  still  more.  "That 
lady."  Joan  Rolf  remarked,  "would  freeze  a  canary  with 
a  look";  and  with  Nan,  for  all  her  high  spirits,  the  pro- 
cess of  chilling  went  on  very  successfully  when  she  was 
with  her  governess. 

Yet  Miss  Prior  never  for  an  instant  suspected  that  she 
was  not  the  very  wisest  and  kindest  and  most  compre- 
hensive of  Nan's  new  friends.  In  person  she  was  rather 
small,  with  thin  blonde  hair,  which  she  wore  gathered 
into  the  smallest  possible  knot  at  the  back  of  her  head, 
light  blue  eyes,  perfectly  regular,  cold  features,  the  lips  as 
thin  as  they  could  be  and  ever  open,  the  chin  decidedly 
square.  Unfortunately  for  herself,  Miss  Prior  was  one 
of  those  persons  who  consider  themselves  as  injured  by 
having  to  work  for  her  living,  and  it  seemed  to  her  as 
though  she  ought  always  to  enforce  upon  others  a  sense 
of  her  "  dignity." 

Whenever  she  did  unbend  witli  Nan,  it  was  to  tell  of  the 
comforts  and  elegancies  of  her  life  before  "poor  papa" 
died,  and  she  never  discovered  that  Nan  was  not  impress- 
ed either  by  a  sense  of  her  former  glory  or  any  feeling 
that  she  was  not  acting  the  part  of  a  perfect  lady  in  being 
a  governess.  Miss  Rolf  had  engaged  her  through  the  re- 
commendations of  Western  friends,  and  because  she  was 
really  highl\  educated,  so  far  as  book-learning  went.  But 
Nan  needed  a  warmer,  liner  kind  of  association.  Just 
then  her  governess  should  have  been  her  dearest  friend. 

On  this  morning  Nan's  haste  and  her  impatience  were 
partially  excusable,  for  she  was  to  pay  her  first  visit  to  the 
cousins  in  (  'ollege  Street  at  three  o'clock  ;  and  Mi's.  Heriot 
would  keep  her  "forever,"  thought  Nan.  doing  her  hair 
and  looking  over  her  dress,  and  it  was  already  one,  and  in 
two  minutes,  she  felt  sure,  the  dinner-bell  would  ring — 
and,  there!  went  another  blot.  Nan's  little  brown  head 
bent  lower  and  lower  over  her  writing,  while  her  feelings 
arose  in  rebellion.  She  crooked  her  elbows  out  more  and 
more,  and  received  a  "  fillip"  of  ail  exasperating  kind  from 
.Miss  1'rior's  thimble,  and  at  last.  Hurried  and  nervous,  let 
a  tear  splash  down  and  mingle  with  a  very  blackly  writ- 
ten word  in  a  little  inky  stream. 

"  Anuice!"  exclaimed  Miss  Prior.  She  stood  up  in  per- 
fect horror. 

Nan  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  two  more  tears  gathering 
under  her  dark  lashes.  She  felt  humble  and  ashamed,  al- 
though it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  write  another  word. 

"You  can  go  away  now,"  said  Miss  Prior,  very  icily, 
"and  get  ready  for  dinner,  but  the  work  must  remain 
where  it  is;  and  when  you  come  to  your  lessons  to-mor- 
row, the  exercise  shall  be  written  twice  instead  of  once." 

Nail's  penitence  vanished,  for  here  she  felt  was  injus- 
tice. How  much  more  would  a  gentle  word,  even  of  re- 
buke, have  done  for  her!  But  she  was  glad  to  escape. 
She  went  away  to  her  room,  dried  her  eyes,  and  listened 
to  the  dinner-bell  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

But  as  she  went  down  the  long  staircase,  which  was 
flooded  with  May  sunlight,  a  curious  feeling  of  loneliness 
came  over  little  Nan.  She  knew  that  everything  mon- 
ey could  buy  was  given!  her  freely,  and  that  every  one 
about  her  meant  to  be  good  and  kind.  But  there  was 
something  wanting — a  lack  which  made  Nan's  heart  swell 
and  a  sob  rise  involuntarily  to  her  throat.  What  was  it  ? 
Aud  why,  with  all  their  common  ways  and  vulgar  ideas, 
had  she  not  missed  just  this  one  thing  in  the  Ruperts 
household  '.  She  walked  slowly  across  the  hall,  thinking 
how  much  she  would  give  for  one  sight  of  her  cousin 
Philip's  homely,  gentle  countenance,  one  hour  with  him 
011  the  beach,  or  among  his  shells  and  poor  little  collection 
of  curiosities.  Yet  it  was  only  one  month  since  she  felt 
herself  such  a  proud  heroine  of  romance ! 

Miss  Rolf  was  waiting  for  Nan  at  the  head  of  the  dinner 


116 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•MISS    ROLF   JUST    LET    HER   CRY. 

table.  Seated  behind  the  glittering  silver  and  glass,  dress- 
ed, as  usual,  faultlessly,  with  her  rich  old  laces  and  dark 
silks,  the  old  lady  looked  to  Nan  the  very  personification 
of  comfort  and  luxurious  ease.  Of  course  Nan  did  not  de- 
fine it  in  this  way  to  herself;  on  the  contrary,  it  made  her 
only  feel  confused  and  sad,  and  long  for  something,  she 
knew  not  what.  She  came  into  the  room  timidly,  still 
very  near  to  tears;  and  then  she  saw  Miss  Rolf  look  at 
her  with  a  curious  glance,  half  pity,  half  affection,  alto- 
gether something  gentler  than  Nan  had  ever  seen. 

The  old  lady  put  out  one  of  her  beautiful  white  hands, 
and  Nan  seemed  to  know  what  she  meant.  She  came  up 
very  quietly,  and  laid  her  own  little  trembling  fingers  in  it. 

"Nan,"  Aunt  Letty  said,  "you  look  sometimes  so  like 
your  father!" 

Nan's  restraint  soon  gave  way  at  this.  It  was  certainly 
queer,  in  the  middle  of  a  bright  sunshiny  day,  and  just  at 
dinner-time,  for  no  apparent  reason,  to  burst  into  tears; 
but  that  is  precisely  what  Nan  did.  She  flung  her  arms 
about  the  old  lady's  neck,  and  sobbed  passionately  against 
the  rich  brown  silk  dress,  while,  what  was  more  singular, 
Miss  Rolf  just  let  her  cry  away,  holding  her  tenderly,  and 
kissing  the  rough  mass  of  brown  hair  softly. 

Robert,  the  butler,  luckily  did  not  come  in  on  this  scene, 
or  I  am  afraid  he  would  have  thought  his  mistress  had 
entirely  lost  her  senses.  To  the  servants,  as  well  as  to  Nan, 
Miss  Rolf  was  like  a  queen — proud,  reserved,  and  certainly 
not  a  person  before  whom  to  betray  any  weakness ;  but 
the  tenderness  of  the  arms  about  Nan  was  unmistakable. 


When  the  little  girl  lifted 
vi])  her  flushed,  tear-stained 
face,  she  seemed  to  feel  as  if 
everything  danced  in  a  glad 
light  about  her,  and  Miss 
Rolf  had  a  delicate  pink 
flush  on  her  old  cheeks. 
She  looked  almost  as  trans- 
formed and  as  excited  as 
Nan. 

"Dear,  dear,"  she  said, 
very  quietly,  "by -and -by 
you'll  tell  me  all  about  it." 
She  held  the  little  girl's 
hot  head  closely,  and  look- 
ed at  her  with  something 
about  her  own  eyelashes 
that  glistened;  for  she  was 
thinking  of  a  day,  thirty 
years  ago,  when  Nan's  fa- 
ther had  been  her  idol.  No 
child  had  ever  wept  in  her 
arms,  or  looked  as  if  it 
wanted  to  kiss  her,  since 
those  days,  and  perhaps  the 
perfectly  natural  outburst 
on  Nan's  part  had  made  her 
feel  what  she  had  lost 
through  pride  and  self-will. 
"Nannie,"  the  old  lady 
said,  earnestly,  "I've  a  long 
story  to  tell  you  some  day 
about  your  father.  Some 
day  I  mean  you  to  hear  it. 
Now  sit  down,  my  child. 
There,"  added  Miss  Rolf, 
quickly,  her  old  stern  look 
coming  back — "there  is 
Robert.  Robert,  you  were 
a  long  time  bringing  in  the 
soup.  I  must  make  Susan 
understand  promptness  bet- 
ter." 

Nan  glided  into  her  seat, 

wondering  if  Robert  noticed  how  red  her  eyes  were.  But 
that  distinguished  person  did  not  betray  it  if  he  had.  He 
moved  about  noiselessly  as  usual,  and  attended  to  Miss 
Rolf's  slightest  look  with  his  usual  quickness. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


ROB. 
SI  Cljrfstmas  Stovr. 

BY   EDWARD    I.   STEVENSON. 

MR.  WALTER  DIX  sat  toasting  his  feet  before  the 
bright  fire  in  his  studio  on  Christmas-eve.  The  stu- 
dio looked  a  very  cozy  and  pleasant  place,  with  the  fire- 
light flickering  over  the  gay  Japanese  fans  tacked  against 
the  chimney,  and  the  gilding  on  the  books  and  ornaments 
of  the  mantel-piece.  But  Mr.  Dix  was  not  exactly  cheer- 
ful. "Too  bad  to  be  away  from  home  on  Christmas,"  he 
was  saying  to  himself.  "Here  I  am,  all  alone  down 
here  in  Florida,  and  father  and  mother  and  Fanny  away 
up  in  Massachusetts.  Well,  merry  Christmas  to  all  of  you, 
although  you  can't  hear  me  wish  it." 

One,  two,  three!  Hands  rapped  at  the  studio  door  as  if 
to  break  off  Mr.  Dix's  dull  reflections.  Slowly  the  door 
opened.  ' '  Look  out  dar,  you  Link !  Fotch  her  'long  sted- 
dy,"  a  darky  voice  was  saying,  with  a  gleeful  chuckle. 
Mr.  Dix  turned  his  head.  With  another  chuckle  two  ne- 
gro lads  walked  up  the  room,  pulling  on  a  rude  cart  a 
square  box  covered  with  express  labels.  "  Good-ebeuin', 
Mars'  Dix !"  "  Merry  Christmas  to  Mars'  Dix  1" 


IiKtKMKKK  -jr.,  KSS-. 


1 1  A  IIPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


117 


"Why.  Rob!  Why,  Link!''  cried  the  young  paint- 
cr.  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  And  have  you  <•<  >me  all  the 
way  up  from  the  station,  this  windy  night,  witli  that 
heavy  box  .'" 

Kcib's  hniad  face  sparkled  with  pleasure.  "Yes, 
Mars'  Dix.  She  come  down  by  ile  tug.  she  did.  an' 
ole  I'nele  ('ato  he  'lowed  'twas  a  <  'ri>-mus  box  from 
yer  I'olkse-,.  an'  said  Mars'  Dix  muss  hub  her  —  slioly  !" 

"  An'  pleeze,  Mars'  Dix."  burst  forth  Link,  with  shin- 
ing eyes  and  teeth,  "  plee-ee-ze  can't  Rob  an'  me  stay 
an'  s.-e  you  open  it  '." 

Stay  ihey  did:  and  each  gift  from  the  home  circle  to 
Mr.  Dix  put  the  two  into  a  more  electric  state  of  tickle 
than  the  one  lie  fore  it.  The  various  articles  were  all 
pronounced  wonderful;  but  the  one  that  drew  out  a 
special  storm  of  applause  was  a  large  and  beautiful 
opera-  glass.  "Hi!  ain't  dat  niiraclas  ;"  ejaculated 
Link,  turning  around  and  staring  at  Rob  through  its 
larger  cud.  "  Dar  you  goes,  half  mile  off.  'Pears  like 
dis  heah  cud  jes  knock  a  man  into  de  middle  o'  lies.' 
(  Yissmuss!" 

Shuttling  steps  outside  interrupted   Mi'.  Mix's  merry 
answer.      In  another  momenta   new   knocking  at    the 
studio  door,  and   lo!  Rob's  decidedly  "cheeky"  invita- 
tion, "Come  in,"  admitted  to  the  rosy  lire  light  all  the 
other   members    of    Mr.  Dix's    little    Sunday  school    class 
down  at  the  station  —  Henry,  with  his  round  bead  and  sol- 
emn  little  face;  the  two  brothers  (_'oot  and  Will  Jackson. 
with  their  sedate  little  phix./es;  and  Tom.  the  blackest  and 
plumpest-cheeked  and  most  quick-witted  of  all  the  six. 

"Well,  well."  exclaimed  Mr.  Dix,  kindly,  giving  up  bis 
letter  reading  for  the  present,  "this  /x  a  surprise,  hoy  >  ! 
Mow  do  you  all  do  on  Christ  mas  -eve  '."  After  —  thanks  to 
I  tob's  pel  it  ion  -every  single  article  from  the  box  had  been 
duly  again  gone  over  and  exhibited,  for  I  he  hem  lit  of  the 


THE    ••KOKTKT    ACK." 

ings,  each  to  the  other,  to  "slop  a-scrougiii"  into  me  wid 
yer  ellabow !"  and  to  "quil  a-bu'stin'  out  lallin  dat  ar 
way!"  the  little  group  grew  more  serious  as  they  sat 
around  Mr.  Dix's  feet. 

"  Hoy  s,"  said  the  painter,  "who  was  it  was  born  on 
( 'hrislmas-day  ;  that  same  (  >ne  of  whom  we  have  talked  so 
many  Sunday  afternoons  together." 

"JeBUS  (  'hrist.  Mai's'  I  >i\."  answered  Rob  and  Link,  SO- 
berlv. 

"Well."  said   Mr.   l>i\.  \\hen  another  question  or  two 


sit  down  there  on  the  rug  before  the  lire.       Kirst,  we  must 

have  a  little  Christmas  talk  together  ;  shall  we  '.    and  aft 
erthat  I've  a  plan  to  propose  to  yon 

Down  they  sat  accordingly  ;  and  with  at  least  six  tell- 


new  arrivals,  Mr.  Dix  said  :  "Now,boyS1  I   \\aiil  you  all  to     had  been  put  and  met,  "  do  not  forget  that  He  was  always 

domg  a  kindness  to  some  one,  even  to  those  who  hated  him 
the  most  ;  aluay  s  carrying  their  and  our  sins  and  faults, 

from  the  ti Me  lay.  a  liny  baby,  in  the  manger  at   I'.elh 

lehem  until  Me  came  to  Mis  cross.      Ay,  and  ever  after." 

The  six  black  faces  were 
very  thoughtful  by  the  time. 
Mr.  Dix  had  finished:  but 
how  did  the  twelve  flashing 
eyes  dance  when,  after  a  lit- 
tle pause,  the  young  paint- 
er said, 

"Boys,  I  suppose  you've 
all  heard  about  youngsters 
like  you  hanging  up  stock- 
ings on  Christmas-eve  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  Mars'  Dix," 
came  Rob's  voice,  leading 
the  rest. 

"Ah,  "resumed  the  young 
man,  stirring  the  coals; 
"and  are  any  of  you  going 
to  try  hanging  up  stockings 
down  at  the  station  ?" 

"Guess  not,  Mars'  Dix," 
came  Tom's  thick  voice,  ac- 
companied with  the  usual 
chuckle.  "Ole  Aunt  Asia 
she  say  she  won't  hab  no 
sech  a  tomfoolery  roun'  her 
way." 

"An'  anyhow,"  exclaim- 
ed Link, "  'twoulcln't  be  no 
use.  Santy  Klaws  ain't  go- 
in'  ter  bring  nothin'  to  black 
folkses.  Too  many  w'ite 
chil'ren  fer  to  'tend  to." 
A  laugh  greeted  this  state- 


• 


THE   BOYS    EMPTYING   THE    STOCKINGS. 


118 


IIAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


merit.  Mr.  Dix  joined  in  it.  "Well,"  said  he,  after  it 
had  subsided,  "I  want  each  one  of  you  boys  to-night  be- 
fore he  goes  home  to  hang  up  a  stocking  oil  my  mantel- 
piece, there,  and  then  you  can  come  here,  as  early  as  you 
choose,  to-morrow  morning,  and  see  if  Santa  Glaus  has 
not  brought  something  for  you,  at  least.  He'll  never  dare 
to  pass  by  my  studio,  you  see." 

This  delightful  idea  was  received  with  such  a  burst  of 
joy  that  Mr.  Dix's  breath  was  nearly  taken  away.  Rob 
and  Link,  in  fact,  found  themselves  obliged  to  walk  on 
their  hands  half  across  the  room  before  they  could  enter- 
tain the  plan  calmly.  Then  came  the  fresh  excitement  of 
each  choosing  a  red  or  blue  striped  stocking  from  out  Mr. 
Dix's  drawerful,  and,  succeeding  to  that,  the  thrilling  sen- 
sation of  pinning  each  one  of  those  same  stockings  up 
along  the  edge  of  the  mantel-shelf.  And  each  must  needs 
have  a  label  fastened  to  it,  so  that  Santa  Glaus  should 
make  no  mistake  as  to  whose  stocking  it  might  be.  The 
studio  rang  with  fun  by  the  time  the  row  dangled  in  the 
fire-light  complete. 

"Mars'  Dix,"  said  Link,  a  few  moments  after,  "now 
dat  all  clem  stockin's  is  done  ready,  wouldn't  you  like  to 
heah  a  little  music  befo'  we  staht  fo'  home  ?" 

"Indeed  I  should,  Link,"  replied  Mr.  Dix,  "and  sup- 
pose you  give  me  a  dance  into  the  bargain  ?" 

A  dance  to  wind  up  the  evening!  That  was  precisely 
what  was  wanted. 

"We'll  gib  you,  Mars'  Dix,  our  cel'brated  new  Lady 
Kortet  Ack,  if  you  like,"  suggested  Rob.  after  a  deal  of 
whispering  and  giggling  with  his  mates  in  a  corner. 

"By  all  means,  the  Lady  Quartette  Act,  Rob,"  laughed 
the  young  painter. 

So  Rob  and  the  inseparable  Link,  along  with  Will,  dis- 
appeared behind  a  tall  screen  at  the  far  end  of  the  studio 
together,  while  Mr.  Dix  glanced  through  his  letters.  Out 
the  three  boys  came  presently,  however — Rob  with  his 
banjo,  and  Link  shaking  his  clappers  merrily,  while  Will, 
most  comical  to  behold,  had  managed  to  slip  his  little 
black  self,  clothes  and  all,  into  an  ancient  and  wonderfully 
flowered  sacque,  which  must  have  belonged  to  tall  old 
Aunt  Asia  at  the  station  herself;  since  when  tied  around 
the  middle  with  a  flaring  red  and  yellow  sash,  probably 
borrowed  by  one  of  the  company  from  the  same  source,  it 
made  a  kind  of  droll  Bloomer  dress.  Below  it  appeared 
Will's  ragged  trousers  and  boots  to  testify  to  his  sex.  Evi- 
dently the  three  had  come  up  to  Mr.  Dix's  studio  prepared 
to  be  entertaining. 

"But  I  thought  I  was  to  hear  a  quartette,"  remarked 
Mr.  Dix,  as  the  other  boys,  having  placed  chairs  for  the 
orchestra,  and  furnished  Will  with  a  big  newspaper  to 
hold  as  his  music,  contentedly  squatted  in  a  row  along  the 
far  wall  of  the  room. 

"  My,  Mars'  Dix,  you  has  it,"  answered  Coot  and  Henry 
together.  "  Dar's  Willy,  an'  dar's  Link,  an'  dar's  Rob." 

"So  I  see,"  responded  Mr.  Dix.  "But  I  thought  that 
a  quartette  was  something  played  or  sung  by  four  people 
— eh  ?  It  seems  to  me  I  see  only  three." 

The  performers  stared  at  each  other.  This  was  clearly 
quite  a  new  notion  to  them. 

"Well,  Mars'  Dix,"  answered  Rob,  presently,  "you 
see —  I — dat  is,  we — we  kind  o'  sort  o'  disremembered 
dat  ar  fack  until  jes'  dis  minute.  But — "  and  the  boy 
stopped  with  rather  a  mortified  grin. 

"Oh,  never  mind,  Rob,"  rejoined  the  painter,  with  his 
gay  laugh,  and  anxious  to  smooth  away  so  unpleasant  a 
perplexity.  "It  really  don't  make  an  inch  o£  difference 
to-night.  We'll  just  call  it  the  '  Quartette  Act'  all  the 
same.  Go  ahead !" 

Rob  clapped  his  hands,  much  relieved.  His  banjo 
struck  up  a  frolicsome  air;  Link's  clappers  galloped  in; 
Will's  voice  followed  in  a  rollicking  verse,  to  the  chorus 
of  which  he  executed  a  quite  astonishing  little  dance; 
while  Henry  and  Coot  and  Tom  patted  the  time  friskily. 


Song  followed  song  after  that,  until  Mr.  Dix  was  really 
too  tired  out  with  laughing  and  applauding  to  listen  any 
longer — especially  since  it  was  growing  late,  and  he  had 
those  stockings  to  look  after.  The  party  broke  up. 

"  Good-night,  boys,"  said  their  kind  host,  as  he  watched 
the  six  file  out  of  the  door  into  the  dark  road  to  the  sta- 
tion—"good-night,  and  don't  forget  to  come  at  six  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning  to  empty  those  stockings.  Pete  will 
let  you  in,  in  case  I'm  asleep." 

"No,  sah !"  "  Nebber  fear,  Mars'  Dix !"  came  the  half- 
dozen  merry  voices. 

Mr.  Dix  returned  to  his  fireside  quickly  to  put  into  the 
six  gaping  hose  the  gay  colored  books,  the  candy,  the 
knives  and  tops  he  had  provided.  The  "Kortet,"  mean- 
time, were  leading  their  companions  into  the  little  station, 
and  singing  at  the  tops  of  their  lungs  a  verse  Bob  must 
certainly  have  composed  on  the  way: 

"0  Crissmuss-clay  in  <]e  ebcniti', 

How  happy  you  nuikes  me  feel! 
Y-c-e-s,  Uucl'  Saiity  Klaws, 

How  happy  you  makes  me  f-e-e-e-1 !" 

It  seemed  to  Mr.  Dix  that  he  had  scarcely  slept  an  hour 
before  he  opened  his  eyes  again.  It  was  Christmas  morn- 
ing with  a  vengeance,  for  from  the  other  side  of  the  bed- 
room door  came  an  uproar  that  Mr.  Dix  knew  could  mean 
nothing  except  Rob  and  Link,  Coot  and  Will,  Henry  and 
Tom,  out  of  their  six  wit's  because  of  "close  stockin's." 

"Merry  Crismuss,  Mars'  Dix!"  met  the  painter  011  all 
sides  as  he  entered  the  studio;  and  he  sat  a  full  hour  with 
them,  joining  in  their  glee  over  each  simple  gift  before  he 
sent  them  home  "jes  too  happy  fer  anything,"  as  Coot 
expressed  it. 

Toward  noon  oil  this  same  bright  Christmas-day  Mr. 
Dix  returned  to  the  studio  from  a  walk.  As  he  put  his 
key  into  the  door,  what  was  his  surprise  to  hear  quick 
footsteps  inside  and  the  banging  down  of  a  window-sash! 
Old  Pete  was  at  the  station,  so  the  noise  was  none  of  his. 
But  still  greater  was  Mr.  Dix's  surprise  to  perceive,  as  he 
flung  back  the  door,  Rob  struggling  half  outside,  half  in- 
side the  window-frame.  Its  sash  and  a  certain  crooked 
nail  had  caught  him  firmly  as  he  was  leaping  out. 

"Why,  Rob!"  cried  Mr.  Dix,  hurrying  to  his  release; 
"you  here  ?" 

Rob  swung  himself  down.  Then  he  stood  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor,  looking  terribly  confused. 

"  How  in  the  world,  Rob,  did  you  come  to  get  into  my 
studio  while  I  was  absent  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Dix,  not  very 
well  pleased.  "  Did  you  forget  something  ?" 

Rob  made  no  reply.  Mr.  Dix  suspected  all  was  not 
right. 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  come  in  by  that  window,  or  by 
any  other  way,  Rob,  without  leave,"  he  pursued,  looking 
narrowly  at  the  boy.  "I  hope — I  hope  that  you  meant 
nothing  mischievous  or  wrong." 

Rob  looked  up  to  Mr.  Dix;  then  he  hung  his  head.  At 
the  same  time  he  appeared  to  make  a  motion  to  hide  some- 
thing beneath  his  coat.  Mr.  Dix  steppetl  forward  quick- 
ly. Rob  drew  back,  tripped  over  the  rug's  edge,  and  fell 
over.  The  hidden  object  was  dashed  from  its  hiding-place 
to  the  carpet.  It  was  Mr.  Dix's  opera-glass ! 

"Robert!"  exclaimed  the  young  man.  very  sorrowfully, 
as  he  recognized  and  took  it  up.  "  Did  you  come  here — 
while  I  was  out,  to — to  steal  my  glasses  ?" 

He  remembered  how  they  had  been  admired  the  night 
before. 

Rob  had  uttered  a  cry  of  shame  as  the  opera-glasses 
dropped.  He  got  up  and  stood  before  Mr.  Dix,  unable  to 
raise  his  eyes. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  one  of  my  boys  will  steal  ? — 
and  steal  upon  Christmas-day !"  continued  Mr.  Dix.  ' '  And 
you,  Rob,  of  all  the  rest!  For  what  else  can  I  think? 
Speak,  Rob,  if  it  is  not  so." 


DECEMBER  26,  1882. 


IIATIPETTS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


119 


The  detected  boy  stood  as  if  dumb,  his  breast  heaving. 
Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  replied  stubbornly,  "Mars' 
Dix,  no,  sir — no,  sir!  I  didn't  take  dern  glasses  from  de 
drawer!" 

Mr.  Dix's  face  reddened.  "I  don't  understand  you, 
I'm  afraid.  There  are  the  glasses;  and  you  have  just 
named  the  place  in  which  I  left  them.  Pete  is  out.  Come, 
come.  Rob,'1  he  continued,  kindly ;  ''confess  that  you  ei- 
ther wanted  to  play  with  these  glasses,  or  something  of 
that  sort,  and  thought  that  I  wouldn't  miss  them  for  an 
hour.  Better  make  an  honest  story  of  it,  my  boy" — and 
tlic  speaker  laid  a  gentle  hand  on  Rob's  shoulder. 

Rob  bit  his  lip;  then  he  repeated,  in  a  low,  obstinate 
voice,  "  I  tell  you  I  nebber  took  dem  glasses." 

"  You  need  say  no  more,  sir!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Dix,  stern- 
ly. "I  am  ashamed  of  you!  My  trust  in  you  is  gone 
until  I  find  you  more  worthy  of  it.  Go!  I  do  not  wish 
to  see  vein  again  until  you  are  willing  to  admit  your  fault. 
You  need  not  come  up  with  the  other  boys  to  our  Christ- 
mas-day reading  this  afternoon.  After  all  that  I  have 
done  and  said  to  make  my  boys  true  and  honest  lads,  is 
this  the  way  one  of  them  acts — and  toward  me!"  Mr. 
Dix  stopped.  "  Rob,"  he  added,  appealingly.  witli  earnest 
eyes  bent  upon  the  boy — "once  for  all,  will  you  not  own 
the  truth  to  me  ?" 

Rob's  head  drooped  lower.  He  muttered  something.  "  I 
ain't  a-goin'  to  say  'nuther  wo'd  about  it!"  he  exclaimed, 
doggedly,  and  then  walked  hurriedly  out  of  the  room. 

Very  sorrowful  was  Mr.  Dix  during  his  quiet  Christmas 
dinner.  "Too  bad  !"  he  kept  saying  to  himself.  "And 
I  fancied  them  all  improving  so  much  lately!  Rob,  espe- 
cially, seemed  to  be  growing  up  such  an  honest,  good  little 
fellow." 

When  the  class  came  up  to  the  studio  at  four  o'clock, 
Henry  remarked,  "  Rob's  sick,  Mars'  Dix — said  he  couldn't 
come;  an'  Link's  got  ter  go  'long  o'  Uncle  Cato,  up  to 
Poco  Swamp."  Mr.  Dix  was  not  surprised  to  hear  that 
Rob  had  preferred  giving  himself  out  as  ill  rather  than 
tell  tbe  rest  that  he  had  been  forbidden  to  accompany 
them.  But  the  little  feast  passed  ott'  pleasantly  for  the 
others,  and  Christmas-day  itself  ended,  rather  Sadly  for  Mr. 
Dix,  a  little  later. 

Nothing  did  he  see  of  Rob  the  next  day  nor  that  follow- 
ing. All  the  rest  of  the  class  said  that  he  was  somewhere 
about  the  station,  but  that  he  kept  aloof  from  them.  Link, 
likewise,  appeared  wonderfully  busy,  and  seemed  to  keep 
out  of  Mr.  Uix's  way  nearly  as  much  as  Rob.  "  How  dis- 
graced the  little  fellow  feels  by  his  friend's  conduct,'' 
thought  Mr.  Dix,  when  meeting  Link  one  day  on  the  road, 
the  boy  slipped  into  a  side  path,  scarcely  having  spoken  to 
the  young  painter. 

The  pleasant  Christmas  week  sped  by.  Mr.  Dix  was 
standing  just  outside  the  studio  door,  watching  the  last 
saffron  sunset  of  the  old  year,  when  all  at  once  flying  foot- 
steps approached.  The  form  of  a  boy  was  seen  running 
up  the  road.  It  was  Link.  Covered  with  mud  and  sob- 
bing, he  fairly  cast  himself  at  Mr.  Dix's  feet.  "  Oh,  Mars' 
Dix,  Mars'  Dix,"  he  gasped,  "  Rob's  hurt — he's  a-dyin',  an' 
he  wants  you  !" 

"Rob — dying!"  cried  the  young  painter.  "What  do 
you  mean,  Link  ?  I  saw  him  this  noon." 

Between  his  bursts  of  grief,  Link  told  the  story.  A 
ruined  chimney  of  the  burned  mills,  the  pulling  down  of 
which,  for  its  brick,  Uncle  Cato  had  been  superintending, 
had  crashed  over  upon  poor  Rob.  A  doctor  had  been 
found  on  board  the  afternoon  boat,  but  the  boy  had  only  a 
brief  hour  or  so  left  of  life.  "  An',  oh,  Mars'  Dix,"  repeat- 
ed Link,  "he  muss  see  you,  he  muss  splaiii  something — 
something!" 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Dix  was  entering  Uncle  Cato's 
humble  cabin.  Link  clung  to  his  hand  in  a  tempest  of 
grief  and  fear.  "  Oh,  Mars' Dix,  I  muss  go  in  too.  Rob '11 


ask  fo'  me.  He  srot  to  tell  you,  an'  I  muss  be  dar  to  heah 
it." 

A  new  suspicion  darted  into  Mr.  Dix's  mind.  He  took 
Link's  trembling  hand.  Aunt  Asia  and  the  doctor  left 
them  to  enter  the  little  bedroom  together. 

There,  propped  upon  his  pillow,  little  Rob  seemed  to  be 
resting  quietly.  But  he  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  feebly 
as  lie  recognized  Mr.  Dix  and  Link. 

"Dear  Rob,"  said  the  young  painter,  seating  himself  by 
the  bed  and  taking  the  boy's  hand,  "I  am  so  very  sorry  to 
find  you  thus." 

"Mars'  Dix."  came  Rob's  faint  voice,  "I  wants  fo'  to 
tell  you  somethiii'  right  away.  Link,  heah.  he  wants  it 
too.  Mai's'  Dix,  does  you  still  b'lieve  I  was  a-tryin'  to  steal 
dem  ar  glasses  o'  yours  Crissmuss-day  ?" 

Mr.  Dix  hesitated.  What  answer  was  best  to  make  ? 
Rob  saved  him  the  trouble  of  framing  any  by  continuing, 
"'Cause,  Mars'  Dix,  I  didn't  take  'em.  Link,"  and  he 
turned  his  eyes  upon  the  miserable  Link,  who  knelt  weep- 
ing beside  the  bed — "Link,  heah,  he  took  'em."  And  Rob 
stretched  out  his  other  hand  and  gently  took  Link's  in  it. 

"You  see,  I  muss  jes  splaiu  it  all  to  you  now,  Mars' 
Dix."  went  on  Rob,  eagerly,  his  failing  voice  rising  with 
excitement,  "  befo'  I  leaves  yer.  Dat  ar  morniii'  befo' 
you  went  out  a-walkin'  you  lef  de  window  open,  an'  Link 
an'  I,  we  come  by  jes  after  you'd  gone.  An'  so  Link,  he 
— pleeze  forgib  him,  Mars'  Dix — he  got  in  an'  took  dem 
glasses.  He's  very  sorry,  sir,  I  know.  I  made  him  give 
'em  back  to  me  and  clar  right  out,  an'  I'd  jes  a-got  into 
dat  ar  window  my  own  se'f  an'  stood  clar  onlockin'  de 
drawer  w'en  you  come  outside.  An'  I  was  so  frightened 
I  jes  tried  to  run  away  too.  Does  you  un'stand  all  about 
it  now,  Mars'  Dix?"  the  boy  whispered,  painfully,  "an' 
dues  you  forgib  po<  r  Link  ?  You  know  you  hain't  done 
'strueted  him  half  so  much  as  you  done  'structed  me." 

Tears  were  dropping  down  Mr.  Dix's  cheeks  as  he  re- 
plied. "Indeed  I  will,  dear  Rob.  But  why,  my  poor  fel- 
low, why  have  you  allowed  yourself  to  be  so  wronged?" 

"  Ah,  Mars'  Dix,  "exclaimed  the  dying  boy,  a  smile  shin- 
ing out  upon  his  dark  face  that  made  it  radiant  forever  in 
Mr.  Dix's  memory,  "don't  you  remember  how  on  Criss- 
muss-eve  you  tole  us  how  de  good  Lord" — and  Rob  lifted 
his  tired  eyes — "  bo'  all  de  sins  of  his  enemies  ?  An'  sholy, 
den,  I  ought  to  be  willin'  to  save  poor  Link  heah  from  losin' 
his  good  name — willin'  to  b'ar  poor  Link's  'sgrace  until  he 
could  git  courage  to  confess  't  all  to  you,  Mars'  Dix.  W'y, 
Link's  been  jes  de  best  friend  I  ever  had  in  de  world. 
Hey.  ole  Link  't  Don't  cry  so,  ole  feller." 

The  miserable  Link  groaned  aloud,  with  a  buried  face. 
Poor  coward,  what  were  now  his  feelings  ? 

"Dear  Rob,"  cried  Mr.  Dix,  "how  must  I  ask  you  to 
forgive  me  for  thinking  so  ill  of  you?" 

"  Oh,  Mars'  Dix,  don't  go  fer  to  'hide  to  dat  ar,"  answer- 
ed the  boy,  pressing  the  young  painter's  hand.  "  Dat's 
all  right — dat's  all  right!  I  knew  you'd  un'stand  every 
bit  w'en  I  done  splained  it  to  you."  Rob's  faint  voice 
ceased.  His  strength  seemed  exhausted.  "Good -by, 
Mars'  Dix,"  he  said,  gently.  "  Good-by,  dear  Link !  Dat 
One  who  was  bo'n  on  Crissmuss-day  fer  to  b'ar  our  sins 
has  jes  done  took  mine.  Mars'  Dix. "and  this  last  came 
very,  very  softly,  "  I  b'lieve  I  shall  wait  fo'  to  wish  you  an.' 
Link  a  merry  Crissmuss — up  dar."  And  so  believing,  little 
Rob,  bending  a  last  look  of  love  upon  teacher  and  friend, 
left  them — to  begin  his  waiting. 

Long  was  it  ere  the  wretched  Link  ceased  to  suffer  for 
his  cowardice  and  fault.  What  bitter  memories  of  that 
last  Christmas-week  with  poor  Rob  were  his!  Yet  those 
very  memories  strengthened  the  boy  in  doing  right  thence- 
forth. Before  another  Christmas-day  Mr.  Dix  had  come 
northward,  bringing  Link  with  him.  And  under  his  kind 
care  Link  is  growing  up  to-day  in  such  a  way  that  Bob 
will  some  day  surely  be  able  to  wish  him  that  "Merry 
Crissmuss." 


120 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


GOING  FOR  CIDER. 

BY  MARY  D.  BRINE. 

LITTLE  Miss  Betty  is  every  one's  girl; 

There  is  always  something  for  her  to  do; 
Every  one  wants  her,  and  no  one  can  wait, 

And  Betty  is  watchful,  willing,  and  true. 

And  Betty  is  brare?     Oh  yes;  none  can  deny 
She's  as  brave  as  a  lion,  I'd  have  you  to  know, 

Until  (keeP  tue  secret)  when  evening  has  come, 
And  after  the  cider  poor  Betty  must  go. 

Ugh!  deep  is  the  cellar,  and  dark  is  the  way, 
And  ghostly  the  shadows  that  nicker  and  glare: 

What  wonder  that  Betty  stands  still  on  the  stair, 
Her  little  heart  tilled  with  a  terrible  scare! 

But  courage,  my  girl,  for  the  cellar's  the  same 
As  when  in  the  morning  for  wood  you  must  go; 

All  cellars  at  night  have  a  terrible  name, 

But — it  isn't  the  fault  of  the  cottar,  you  know. 


OLGA'S  RIDE. 

A    STORY    OF    SWEDISH    LIFE. 
BY  ZADEL  BARNES  GUSTAFSON. 

I  DON'T  think  there  could  be  such  a  thing  as  a  boy  or 
girl  who  would  not  like  the  great  Swedish  musician, 
Astolf  Mozart  Moller,  from  the  first  moment  he  or  she 
saw  him.  He  is  a  very  kind,  simple  man,  with  quick, 
sparkling  black  eyes,  and  a  smile  that  is  like  water  twink- 
ling in  the  sun.  Little  people  gather  round  him  instinct- 
ively, and  he  is  always  as  glad  to  see  them  as  if  they  were 
his  wisest  and  most  learned  friends. 

He  can  do  anything  with  the  organ  or  piano.  He 
writes  and  plays  beautiful  anthems,  and  solemn  organ 
music  that  is  like  the  deep  breaking  of  waves  along  the 
sea-coast,  and  his  music  is  even  better  known  and  admired 
in  France  and  Germany  than  in  Sweden. 

But — what  you  children  would  like  best  of  all — he  can 
tell  stories,  and  then  he  can  go  to  the  piano  and  play  them 
— a  real  musical  Hans  Andersen!  I'll  tell  you  a  little 
story  he  told  to  his  own  little  girls,  and  afterward  played 
it  for  them  on  the  piano.  He  has  three  of  them — three  as 
pretty  little  Swedish  girls  as  you  could  wish  to  see.  The 
oldest,  now  ten  years  old,  is  named  Mona  Johanna  Ax- 
elina  Mathilda,  and  always  called  Mona.  The  next  is 
Eva  Anna  Emilia  Julie,  eight  years  old,  and  always  call- 
ed Emilia.  The  youngest,  five  years  old,  Vega  Maria 
Carolina,  always  called  Vega,  is,  they  think,  the  first 
child  who  was  given  that  name  in  Sweden.  You  have, 
of  course,  all  heard  of  the  ship  Vega,  with  which  the 
famous  Nordeusk'iold  made  the  Northeastern  passage. 
After  so  many  other  explorers  had  failed,  this  brave  and 
persistent  Swedish  scientist  accomplished  his  great  pur- 
pose. 

One  evening  when  it  was  getting  near  bed-time  little 
Vega  went  up  to  her  father,  who  was  playing  on  the  organ 
— for  he  has  a  wonderful  organ  that  he  made  himself  that 
shakes  the  very  house  with  its  deep  melody  when  he  plays 
— and  pulled  him  by  the  elbow  for  a  story.  Mona  and 
Eva  sat  by  their  pretty  blue-eyed  mother  on  the  sofa, 
listening  to  the  music,  but  quite  willing  to  have  Vega  put 
a  stop  to  it,  for  a  story. 

So  Professor  Moller  wheeled  around,  picked  up  Vega 
with  one  big  hand,  and  having  set  her  gently  on  his  knee, 
began,  just  as  if  he  had  been  a  hand-organ,  and  little  Vega 
had  turned  the  crank : 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  girl,  a  very  little 
girl,  who  lived  in  a  remote  village  where  there  was  very 
.seldom  anything  bright  or  amusing  going  on.  Little  Olga 
thought  she  had  a  very  dull  time.  She  wanted  to  see  the 
world,  and  teased  her  father  to  take  her  a-travelling.  But 
her  father  was  poor  and  too  old  besides,  so  he  said : 

"  '  Na,  na,  my  little  Olga,  papa  can  not  go.  But  if  you'll 
wait  for  Christmas-time,  perhaps  the  Julgriseii  will  take 
you,  if  you're  a  very  good  little  girl.' 

"  '  Julgriseii !     What's  Julgriseii  ?'  said  Olga. 

"  '  Why,  he's  the  little  Christmas  pig  that  comes  round 
every  Christmas-eve — the  little  pig  that  never  grows  old 
and  is  never  killed.' 

"  '  Why  isn't  he  killed,  papa  ?' 

'  '  Because  he's  always  journeying,  always  trotting  along 
so  fast,  around  and  around  the  world,  that  he  never  gets 
fat,  and  so  the  butchers  don't  want  him.' 

"  'Couldn't  catch  'im,  pa'ups,'  said  Olga. 

"  'Of  course  not,' nodded  her  father. 

"Olga  sat  still,  thinking  for  a  while. 

"  '  How  could  he  take  me  f 

"  '  On  his  back,  my  dear.' 

"'Does  he  go  all  rouu'  the  whole  worl'  —  evvy- 
wheresT 

"'Oh  yes.' 


DECEMBER  26,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


121 


OLGA    SPEEDING   AWAY   OVER   THE   WORLD. 


'  '  How  can  he  git  over  big  osun  ?' 
'  'He  runs  so  fast  he  can't  sink.' 

' '  Olga  puckered  up  her  forehead,  and  sighed,  '  I'm  f e-ayd 
he  would  sink,  wiv  me  on  his  back.' 

'  '  Hoh,  not  a  bit,  not  a  bit;  little  girls  are  light.' 

Then  Olga's  father  went  out  to  his  work  in  the  garden, 

and  thought  no  more  about  it.     But  Olga  remembered,  and 

tried  all  summer  long  to  be  a  very  good  little  girl  such  as 

Julgrisen  liked ;  and  as  Christmas  came  near  she  felt  surer 


and  surer  that  Julgrisen  would 
think  her  good  enough  to  take 
around  the  world  with  him. 

''At  last  it  was  Christmas- 
eve,  and  when  Olga  kissed  her 
old  father  at  bed-time  she  said, 
'good-by,'  but  the  old  man, 
who  had  kissed  her  as  usual, 
was  lighting  his  pipe,  and 
didn't  notice  that  word.  Olga 
went  to  the  window  of  her 
room  and  looked  out.  The 
moon  was  shining,  and  the 
stars  winking  away  at  a  great 
rate,  and  there,  up  the  hill  be- 
yond their  cottage,  yes,  in  the 
middle  of  the  road  and  coming 
like  the  wind  over  the  top  of  the 
deep  snow,  was  a  little  pig,  sure 
enough.  Olga  opened  the  win- 
dow ;  her  heart  was  beating  as 
fast  as  the  tiny  second  hand  of 
a  watch. 

"What  was  that  on  the  lit- 
tle pig's  back  ?  A  saddle — a 
blue  and  gold  saddle,  and  tied 
to  the  pommel  a  soft  white 
hood  with  a  long  warm  cape 
to  it.  The  little  pig,  whose 

bristles  were  like  threads  of  silver,  stopped  right  under  her 

window. 

'•  '  Ur-rak-urrak-urrak !     Come,  Olga.' 

"  '  Are  you  Julgrisen  ?' 

"  '  Ya,  ya.      Come.      Koo-wick-koo-wick.      Put  on  the 

hood  and  hurry  ur-rup,  ur-rup.      It's  a  quick  ride  to  see 

the  world-eruld  and  back  by  cock-crow.' 

"In  a  moment,  with  the  warm  hood  tied  under  her 

chin,  and  the  warm  cape  folded  around  her,  and  sitting 


122 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


snugly  in  the  blue  and  gold  saddle  which  fitted  her  exact- 
ly, Olga  was  speeding  away  over  hill  and  valley,  river 
and  brook,  011  Julgrisen's  silvery  back. 

"  What  did  she  see  ?  Everything.  Cities,  houses,  peo- 
ple, horses,  dogs,  boats  and  cars,  men.  and  women,  little 
boys  and  girls,  thousands  and  thousands  of  them;  but  her 
pig-pony  went  so  fast  she  could  not  see  anything  well, 
and  when  she  begged  him  to  wait  he  simply  grunted : 

"  'We  stop  three  times;  can't  stop  any  more.  If  you 
hadn't  been  such  a  good  little  girl  all  summer  long, 
shouldn't  stop  at  all.'  And  just  when  he  had  said  this, 
he  grunted  '  Urrak-ur-rak-urrak,'and  stopped  so  suddenly 
it  nearly  tossed  Olga  out  of  the  saddle. 

"  They  were  in  the  middle  of  a  great  city,  in  front  of  a 
big,  handsome  house,  and  through  one  of  its  long  win- 
dows Olga  saw  a  little  girl  no  larger  than  herself  in  a 
room  pretty  as  fairy-land  and  full  of  beautiful  things — 
books,  playthings,  dolls,  and  an  elegant  dolls'  house  all 
furnished  from  top  to  bottom,  and  big  enough  for  the  lit- 
tle girl  to  go  in,  and  go  up  and  down  the  stairs,  or  sit  on 
its  little  sofas  and  chairs.  Olga  had  never  even  heard  of 
such  beautiful  things.  But  the  little  girl,  dressed  like  a 
princess,  was  stamping  her  feet,  and  kicking — yes,  kicking 
the  dolls  and  the  dolls'  house. 

"  'Take  them  away!' she  screamed.  'I  hate  'em.  I'm 
tired  of  everything.  Give  me  something  new.' 

"Away  flew  Julgrisen  with  a  scornful  sniff  of  his 
round  pink  snout;  and  now  it  was  over  the  ocean,  and  so 
swiftly  and  lightly  went  Julgrisen  over  the  waves  that 
not  so  much  as  the  foam  of  the  great  green  billows  wetted 
Olga's  feet.  Once  in  the  middle  of  the  sea  he  came  to 
and  skipped  over  a  smooth  brown  hill  without  stick,  or 
stone,  or  bit  of  green  on  it. 

"  '  What's  that?'  said  Olga. 

"'A  whale,' snorted  Julgrisen;  and  by  the  time  the 
whale,  who  had  felt  Julgrisen's  sharp  little  hoofs  pricking 
his  back,  got  ready  to  spout  his  wrath,  Julgrisen  was  oil 
land  again.  Little  villages,  patches  of  woods,  stretches 
of  open  country,  more  villages,  and  now  a  city  again. 

"  'Dear  me!  How  many  big  towns  there  are  in  the 
world !'  thought  Olga. 

"Julgrisen  turned  from  the  wide,  lighted  street  into  a 
narrow  and  very  dirty  lane,  and  stopped  short  as  before. 
In  front  of  the  poorest  hut  Olga  had  ever  seen,  right  on 
the  ground,  sat  a  little  girl  with  no  other  clothing  but  a 
torn  and  dirty  sack  a  great  deal  too  large  for  her.  Her  legs 
and  arms  were  bare,  with  marks  of  cruel  beating  on  them. 

"This  little  girl  was  playing  with — not  dolls  or  dolls' 
houses  this  time,  but  with  three  old  broken  clam  shells, 
and  some  little  round  pebbles,  which  she  took  out  of  her 


mouth  and  filled  into  the  wet  sand  in  the  clam  shells. 
She  was  singing,  too,  in  a  merry  full  voice: 

" '  Fonr-'n'-twenty  blackbirds  all  in  a  )>ie, 

Wasn't  that  a  pooty  ileesh  to  sot  er  fore  er  king!' 

'  '  Urrak  - urrak  -  urrak  !'  grunted  Julgrisen,  running 
away  faster  than  ever,  so  that  if  any  one  had  seen  him 
flashing  by  with  Olga  in  the  little  blue  and  gold  saddle, 
they  might  have  said,  'What  a  strange,  bright-winged 
bird  flew  over  the  iield  just  iio\v !'  But  nobody  saw  or 
said  anything  of  the  sort,  for  the  hood  Olga  wore,  though 
she  didn't  know  it,  hid  them  both  from  every  eye. 

"Away  and  away  past  so  many  things,  strange  and 
wonderful,  lovely  and  sad,  frightful,  curious,  beautiful, 
glad,  which  Olga  longed  to  see  nearer.  But  already  a  little 
pale  light  was  growing  redder  in  the  east,  and  Julgrisen 
went  like  the  lightning.  Then  all  at  once,  with  a  very 
soft  'Urrak,'  as  if  afraid  of  waking  somebody,  he  stopped. 
Where  ? 

"  In  Olga's  own  father's  room,  by  his  bedside,  where  he 
lay  tossing  and  talking  in  a  troubled  dream  : 

'The  children — ya,  ya — they  all  go  away,  and  leave 
the  poor  old  fathers  and  mothers  to  die  alone.  But  my 
little  Olga  she  is  a  good  child.  She  is  willing  to  wait; 
she  will  not  have  to  wait  long.  In  a  little  while  Olga  can. 
go  out  to  see  the  big  world.' 

'  '  I  don't  want  to  go,'  cried  Olga,  creeping  into  the  old 
man's  bed,  and  putting  her  arms  tightly  around  his  neck. 
Julgrisen,  with  a  merry  snort,  had  skipped  off  like  the 
wind,  with  the  blue  and  gold  saddle  and  the  warm  white 
hood  on  his  silver-shining  back.  Olga  didn't  even  notice 
when  he  went.  Her  old  father,  half  awake,  was  clasping 
her  up  to  him,  and  rubbing  his  eyes. 

'What!  what!  my  little  Olga!  Christmas  morning 
already !  I  had  a  bad  dream,  but  I  can't  think  a  word  of 
what  it  was  now.  Ya,  ya!  A  merry  Christmas.  Go  see 
thy  stocking,  little  one.  Nothing  but  a  bit  o'  candy  and  a 
new  silver  kronor;  the  best  thy  old  father  could  do,  eh  ?' 

"  Olga  smiled.  She  was  very  happy,  and  looked  much 
at  her  father,  and  never  said  one  word  to  him  about  her 
ride  in  the  blue  and  gold  saddle. 

"And  now, "said  Professor  Moller,  putting  little  Vega 
in  her  mother's  lap,  "here's  the  way  Olga  went  on  her 
pig-pony."  He  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  laying  his 
hands,  with  their  long,  quick  fingers,  over  the  keys,  play- 
ed, oh,  so  fast!  and  yet  every  note  was  clear.  You  could 
hear  the  pig  grunting  in  the  bass,  squeaking  again  in  the 
treble,  and  then  scampering  away  on  the  light,  crisp,  live- 
ly keys,  so  that  the  piano  really  told  the  story  over  again. 
And  this  was  the  music  that  Professor  Moller  played: 


Tempo  di  3Iemitt/o. 


21?  E 

_^     .Fine.  »>/  -s-  -J.  -s- -J- -J-          •f.-^-^-.f.:^  *-S-*-Jt-Jc 

5~*~'~  iE~*"^~ 

-^t:  -^^_ hZ-L» J..^J  —  tug  Ji  pi — p~  1 — bi^r^c^!zrt!i 


D  C.  al  fine. 


*  Where  the  pig  grants. 


t  Pig  squeaking. 


DECEMBER  2fi,  1882. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


123 


HOW  TO  SKATE. 

A  SHARP  frost  has  set  in,  and  the  weather-wise  say  it 
J\  will  last  a  long  time.  The  large  pond  in  the  Park  is 
already  frozen  hard  as  steel,  and  young  men  and  maidens, 
boys  and  girls,  are  all  bent  upon  making  the  most  of  the 
opportunity.  Watching  them  from  the  bank,  and  envy- 
ing their  swift,  stealthy  motion, 

"  Witliin  oui'  breast  a  noble  ardor  burns," 

and  a  resolution  is  taken  to  join  at  no  distant  date  the 
merry  throng.  But  we  are  tyros  in  the  art,  and  on  its 
very  threshold  are  met  by  a  difficulty — that  of  choosing 
the  articles  necessary  for  its  enjoyment.  What  to  buy  ? — 
that  is  the  question.  There  would  seem  to  be  almost  as 
much  variety  in  skates  as  there  is  in  skaters. 

Skates  made  with  the  best  steel  are,  of  course,  propor- 
tionately expensive;  but  it  is  very  requisite  that  the  steel 
should  be  good.  Choose  skates  that  are  exactly  the  length 
of  the  foot,  not  those  which  have  the  iron  cut  off  an  inch 
within  the  heel.  The  iron  should  extend  backward  to  the 
extreme  edge  of  the  heel,  and  the  corners  should  be  round- 
ed. Pay  attention  to  the  depth  of  the  blade,  for  it  is  desir- 
able that  the  foot  be  as  near  the  ice  as  possible,  and  yet 
necessary  to  have  it  so  high  that,  in  leaning  over,  the 
edge  of  the  sole  should  not  touch  the  ice.  As  to  the  fast- 
enings, there  are  many  modes  equally  good;  the  main 
point  is  to  see  that  the  skate  is  so  perfectly  secured  to  the 
foot  that  it  can  not  move  in  the  least,  and  the  importance 
of  this  can  not  be  overrated.  Any  fastening  that  aids  in 
supporting  the  ankle  is  good. 

Now  let  us  suppose  that  you  have  donned  your  skates. 
At  first  you  will  have  enough  to  do  to  prevent  them  run- 
ning away  with  you.  So  begin  by  attempting,  as  gently 
as  you  like,  and  with  the  very  shortest  steps  you  can  take, 
to  walk  upon  the  ice.  After  a  little  practice  you  will  find 
yourself  instinctively  striking  out  a  little.  It  is  then  time 
to  learn  the  first  movement,  which  is  called  forward  strik- 
ing, or  running,  and  is  done  in  this  way:  The  toes  are 
turned  out  so  that  the  feet  are  nearly  at  right  angles  with 
each  other;  the  position  is  important,  because  it  is  only 
thus  you  can  obtain  pushing  power.  From  that  position 
each  foot  is  lifted  alternately,  and  set  down  on  the  inside 
edge,  when  it  immediately  slides  forward,  all  the  more 
readily  since  the  other  foot  (held  at  right  angles)  can  bear 
against  the  ice  without  sliding.  Perfect  regularity  in  step- 
ping from  foot  to  foot  is  essential. 

When  you  can  time  your  strokes  evenly,  and  gain  the 
necessary  impetus,  you  may  occasionally  vary  the  proceed- 
ings by  bringing  your  feet  together,  and  running  in  that 
way  for  a  considerable  distance.  In  this,  which  is  called 
the  "serpentine,"  the  feet  are  placed  parallel,  instead  of 
at  right  angles,  and  they  remain  parallel  throughout  the 
movement.  If  you  would  learn  it  easily,  take  a  few  strokes 
forward  to  gain  force,  and  then  bring  the  feet  parallel,  but 
well  apart,  keeping  the  knees  bent,  and  while  going  along 
in  this  manner  try  to  make  the  line  wavy  by  turning  both 
feet  at  once  (without  lifting  them)  in  the  same  direction, 
say  to  the  right,  swinging  the  body  with  them;  then  both 
to  the  left,  with  a  swing  to  that  side,  and  so  on. 

The  common  backward  motion  on  both  feet  is  exactly 
the  same  as  the  "  serpentine,"  except  that  it  is  backward 
instead  of  forward.  To  learn  this  backward  motion  take 
a  few  strokes  forward,  then  spin  quite  round,  and  while 
the  impetus  lasts  turn  the  right  toe  inward,  and  push  your- 
self back  from  that  foot;  then  turn  the  left  one  inward, 
pushing  from  it,  and  so  on  alternately,  leaning  forward 
all  the  time.  Practice  will  make  it  easy  not  merely  to 
keep  up  the  first  impetus,  but  to  increase  it,  and  even  to 
begin  it  without  any  forward  strokes. 

How  delightful  is  the  swift  motion  !  Exulting  in  your 
growing  confidence  and  in  the  progress  already  made, 
and  feeling  that  you  are  at  length  attaining  your  wish 


and  becoming  indeed  a  skater,  it  is  crushing  at  this  junc- 
ture to  be  told  by  some  friendly  proficient  that  you  ai-e 
only  at  the  very  threshold  of  the  art,  since  you  know  no- 
thing yet  of  moving  on  the  outside  edge.  Moving  on  the 
outside  edge !  It  sounds  alarming. 

Take  courage;  it  is  really  not  so  formidable  as  it  seems, 
and,  moreover,  there  are  few  difficulties,  you  know,  which 
do  not  vanish  before  patience  and  perseverance. 

The  first  thing  you  have  to  do  in  order  to  get  yourself  on 
the  outside  edge  is  to  endeavor  to  skate  round  in  a  circle,  as 
large  a  circle  as  you  please  at  first,  but  to  be  gradually  re- 
duced as  you  improve.  As  you  lift  each  foot  for  the  next 
stroke  try  to  cross  it  in  front  quite  over  the  other  and  set 
it  down;  then  the  other  in  front  of  that,  and  so  on  alter- 
nately. Now,  as  the  iron  always  circles  toward  the  side 
on  which  it  rests,  it  follows  that  the  foot  nearest  the  inside 
of  the  circle  must  work  on  the  outside  edge  of  the  iron. 
Consequently  your  object  will  be  to  dwell  as  long  as  you 
can  on  that  foot,  and  as  briefly  as  you  can  on  the  other, 
which  works  on  the  inside  edge.  The  foot  that  is1  behind 
must  be  kept  behind  until  it  is  to  be  set  down  in  front;  it 
in  lint  not  be  carried  in  the  air  in  front  for  an  instant. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  you  again  that  the 
left  foot  must  be  exercised  equally  with  the  right.  In 
fact,  it  is  a  good  rule  in  this  and  all  figures  to  give  the 
left  double  practice.  So  after  skating  with  the  right  foot 
to  the  inside  of  the  circle,  go  off  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and  make  a  circle  with  the  left  foot  to  the  inside  of  it. 
Some  difficulty  is  sure  to  be  experienced  in  putting  down 
the  foot  quite  across  the  other;  but  diligent  practice  will 
soon  repay  you  with  the  discovery  that  you  can  dwell  for 
a  few  yards  on  the  outside  edge,  and  perhaps — keeping  the 
raised  foot  well  back  in  the  mean  time — nearly  complete 
the  circle. 

After  this  is  accomplished  you  may  congratulate  your- 
self on  having  become  a  skillful  skater.  If  you  wish  to 
learn  figure  skating,  however,  you  have  much  work  still 
before  you.  The  key  to  it  is  being  able  to  turn  rapidly 
from  one  edge  of  the  skate  to  the  other,  but  long  and  ard- 
uous practice  will  be  required  before  the  graceful  "grape- 
vine" twist  and  other  figures  can  be  successfully  accom- 
plished. Written  directions  will  avail  you  little.  Figure 
skating  can  only  be  learned  by  watching  some  one  profi- 
cient in  the  art,  and  imitating  his  movements  with  care 
and  patience. 

MR.  THOMPSON  AND  THE  HORNED  TOAD. 

BY  ALLAN   FORMAN. 

R.  THOMPSON  sat  in  his  office  trying  to  write  an  es- 
say.  He  had  just  returned  from  California,  and  the 
literary  society  of  which  he  was  a  member  had  asked  him 
to  write  about  "The  Effect  of  Mongolian  Immigration 
upon  California."  He  had  just  written  at  the  top  of  a 
large  sheet  of  foolscap  "  The  Mongols";  then  he  scratched 
it  out,  and  substituted  " The  Chinese";  then  he  added 
"are" — "  The  Chinese  are."  Then  he  stopped.  "What 
are  the  Chinese  ?"  he  murmured.  "I  believe  I  haven't  a 
single  idea  in  my  head." 

"That's  so,"  piped  a  saucy  little  voice. 

Mr.  Thompson  looked  down,  and  saw  on  the  floor  near 
his  feet  one  of  the  horned  toads  he  had  brought  from  San 
Francisco  with  him.  "  That's  so,"  it  repeated. 

Mr.  Thompson  was  provoked.  "I  suppose  you  think  you 
have  an  idea,"  he  snapped.  "You  impudent  little  reptile, 
you  must  have  a  great  many  ideas !"  he  added,  sarcastically. 

' '  I  have, "  replied  the  toad,  calmly,  ' '  a  great  many  ideas. 
I  have  often  thought  of  having  you  write  them  out,  and 
getting  them  printed.  Do  you  suppose  that  if  I  should 
tell  a  story,  and  send  it  to  the  YOUNG  PEOPLE  with  my 
picture,  they  would  print  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  doubtfully;  "you 
might  try."  Then  he  added,  with  an  eye  to  the  main 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


chance,  "I'll  copy  your  story,  and  if  they  take  it,  we'll 
divide." 

"  All  right;  but,  by-the-way,  I  don't  see  why  they  call 
us  toads.  We  are  really  lizards.  We  don't  hop  like  a 
toad,  but  run  like  a  lizard  ;  and  we  have  tails.  Toads 
don't  have  tails.  But  I'd  rather  be  called  a  toad  than  by 
my  real  name,  that  is  as  long  as  I  am — Phrynosoma. 
How's  that  for  a  name  ?  The  old  monks  had  a  better 
name  for  us.  They  called  us  some  Spanish  name  that 
meant  Toad-lizard;  called  us  toad  'cause  we  are  speckled 
like  a  toad,  and  lizard  'cause  we  run,  and  have  tails. 
When  they  first  saw  us  they  were  awfully  frightened. 
They  thought  that  we  must  be  very  poisonous;  so  they 
sprinkled  holy  water  around,  and  prayed  for  us  to  go,  but 
we  knew  better,  and  staid.  They  soon  found  out  that  we 
did  no  harm,  and  caught  the  flies  and  bugs  off  their  plants ; 
so  they  let  us  stay. 

"My  grandfather  lived  for  a  great  many  years  in  the 
garden  of  the  Mission  Dolores.  That's  in  San  Francisco, 
you  know.  It  was  built  there  long  before  San  Francisco 
was  any  city;  founded  in  1776,  my  grandfather  used  to 
tell  me.  There  was  not  a  white  man  in  the  place  then 
except  the  monks.  After  a  while  people  came  in  ships 


THE    HORNED    TOAD. 

from  New  York  and  Boston  to  buy  hides  and  tallow,  for 
the  monks  owned  a  great  many  cattle,  and  there  were  some 
Spanish  farmers  in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley.  That  was  in 
1802,  and  I  have  heard  my  grandfather  say  that  there  were 
not  more  than  eight  hundred  people  in  San  Francisco. 

"The  Yankee  traders  carried  back  word  to  the  East  of 
the  delightful  climate  and  fruitful  soil,  and  a  few  families 
emigrated.  Still,  the  increase  of  population  was  very 
slow,  and  in  1848  there  were  only  about  fifteen  hundred 
people  in  the  town.  Suddenly  in  June  of  1848  every- 
body left,  and  there  were  only  about  a  hundred  women 
and  children  remaining.  I  was  very  small  then,  and  I 
asked  grandfather  the  reason.  '  Gold,  my  dear  boy,  gold,' 
he  answered.  Then  he  went  on  to  tell  me  that  Captain 
Sutler  had  discovered  gold  at  Coloma,  on  the  American 
River,  January  19,  1848,  and  that  all  the  people  had  left 
the  city  to  see  if  they  couldn't  find  some  too. 

"But  the  city  wasn't  deserted  long,  for  people  began  to 
flock  in  from  the  East  and  from  Europe.  Whaling  ships 
would  stop  for  water  and  provisions ;  the  crew  would  hear 
of  the  gold,  and  would  desert ;  and  in  '49  and  '50  even  the 
Chinese  began  to  come  to  do  servants'  work.  Money  was 
plenty  then,  and  provisions  were  high.  Hens'  eggs  were 


worth  as  much  as  a  dollar  a  piece,  or  ten  dollars  a  dozen, 
and  a  friend  of  mine  who  lived  in  the  garden  of  a  res- 
taurant used  to  tell  me  how  the  miners  would  come  to 
town  with  a  bag  full  of  gold-dust,  and  order  a  dozen  boil- 
ed eggs  for  breakfast.  Eastern  merchants,  hearing  of  the 
scarcity  of  provisions,  sent  at  one  time  ship-loads  of  pota- 
toes, at  another  tobacco,  and  for  the  time  the  supply  was 
so  much  greater  than  the  demand  that  tons  of  the  potatoes 
were  dumped  into  the  bay  because  they  would  not  bring 
enough  to  pay  for  boating  them  ashore,  and  full  cases  of 
tobacco  were  used  to  pave  the  muddy  street  crossings. 

"Thousands  who  came  to  the  mines  could  not  find  ac- 
commodations in  houses,  and  slept  in  tents,  and  rolled  in 
their  blankets  oil  the  bare  ground.  We  used  to  have  lots 
of  fun  then.  We  would  crawl  under  the  miners'  blan- 
kets to  keep  warm,  and  when  they  felt  our  rough  backs 
they  would  jump  and  yell,  for  many  of  them  were  as 
afraid  of  us  as  they  were  of  tarantulas  or  scorpions.  At 
last  they  got  used  to  us,  and  many  of  them  did  not  mind 
having  us  around,  only  they  did  not  like  to  have  us  crawl 
over  them.  See  here,  now, "he  added,  interrupting  him- 
self, "are  you  putting  this  all  down?  I  want  you  to 
write  what  I  have  told  you  to  the  paper." 

"I'm  writing  as  fast  as  you  talk," 
answered  Mr.  Thompson. 

"That's  right,"  replied  the  toad, 
with  a  satisfied  air.  "  Tell  them  that 
I  am  interested  in  papers.  I  have 
caught  flies  oft'  this  pile  for  more  than 
a  week;  great  place  for  flies  when  the 
sun  shines.  And  tell  them  that  I 
know  of  a  place  right  in  the  city  of 
San  Francisco  where  there  is  lots  of 
gold,  piles  upon  piles." 

"Where  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Thompson, 
excitedly. 

"Will  you  have  my  picture  taken 
so  as  to  go  with  what  you  have  writ- 
ten ?"  said  the  toad,  with  a  cunning 
twinkle  in  his  black  eyes. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Thompson, 
eagerly. 

"  Honest  ?  Will  you  promise  ?"  in- 
sisted the  toad. 

"Yes,  yes.     Where  is  the  gold  ?" 
"In  the  Mint,"  answered  the  toad, 
with  a  sly  laugh. 

This  provoked  Mr.  Thompson.     To 

be  taken  in  and  made  fun  of  by  any 

one  is  bad  enough,  even  if  the  joker 

be  your  equal;  but  to  have  a  horned  toad  get  the  best  of 

you,  as  this  one  had  done,  is  doubly  humiliating. 

"You  miserable  little  cheat!"  shouted  Mr.  Thompson, 
"I'll  pay  you  for  this!"  and  as  I  came  into  the  room  he 
was  shaking  his  fist  at  the  toad,  which  was  perched  upon 
a  pile  of  papers,  calmly  catching  flies,  and  winking  and 
blinking  in  the  sunlight  as  if  it  had  never  provoked  the 
wrath  of  its  august  master.  When  Mr.  Thompson  saw 
me  he  stopped  scolding  the  toad,  and  told  me  the  story  as 
I  have  told  it  to  you. 

"You  were  asleep,"  I  ventured  to  suggest.  "I  heard 
you  snore  as  I  came  up  the  stairs. " 

"Asleep!"  cried  Mr.  Thompson,  in  high  dudgeon. 
"Asleep !  Did  I  write  this  while  I  was  asleep  ?"  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  a  sheet  of  foolscap.  As  he  glanced  at  it  he 
saw  "The  Chinese  are —  The  rest  of  the  page  was  blank. 
He  looked  confused  for  a  moment;  then  picking  up  a  his- 
tory of  California,  he  looked  it  over  rapidly,  and  exclaim- 
ed, "  I  don't  care  if  I  did  dream  it;  I  dreamed  the  truth." 

Mr.  Thompson  told  me  the  other  day  that  though  he 
had  had  the  toad's  photograph  taken,  it  obstinately  re- 
fused to  speak,  and  only  used  his  nimble  little  tongue  to 
catch  flies  with. 


DECEMBER  26,  1882. 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


125 


:-;  /^;Kv.-V  , 
' 


LET  old  Santa  Claus  come  in, 
With  his  grisly  bearded  chin. 
And  his  wondrous  packs  of  toys 
For  good  little  girls  and  boys. 


••Mrrry  Christmas!"  he  will  say. 

"All  who  willingly  obey, 

Good  at  school  and  fair  at  play. 

Shall   have  something  tine  to-day  ; 

But  the  naughty  ones  will  find 

I  bring  what  will  make  them  mind !" 


What  care  we  for  ice  or  snow, 
Or  how  cold  thr  wind  may  blow? 
Let    the   tempest    beat    and   roar; 
We  hope  it   can  not   pass  the  door. 
By  the  tire-idc.  warm  and  bright, 
We  will  merry  lie  to-night, 
For  the  Christmas  Child  is  near. 
Bringing  pleasure  and  good  cheer ! 


Dear   kind  Santa  Clans,  you'll 

see 

What  good  children  we  can  be; 
And  we'd  like  it,  please,  to  do 
Something  in  return  for  you. 
It  is  very  cold  outside. 
And  you've  very  far  to  ride ; 
Here's  for  you  a  cup  of  whey, 
And  a  bundle  of  sweet  hay 
For  the  reindeer  four-in-hand 
That  you  drive  from  G'uristmas- 

land. 


E 


v/. 


126 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


WHAT  SANTA  CLAfS  BROUGHT. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

AVERT  few  days,  and  we  must  say  good-by 
to  1882.  It  is  almost  gone.  A  Happy  New- 
Year  to  you,  boys  and  girls  !  We  will  all  try  to- 
gether to  fill  1883  with  sunshine  by  being  as  dili- 
gent, as  faithful,  as  kind,  and  as  cheerful  as  we 
can.  Shall  I  tell  you,  children,  the  secret  of  a 
happy  year?  It  is  to  make  each  day  delightful 
as  it  comes  along.  It  depends  upon  ourselves 
far  more  than  on  other  people  whether  we  are 
happy  or  miserable.  I  wish  my  children  would 
remember  day  by  day  to  take  their  tasks  and  du- 
ties merrily,  and  never  to  put  off  to-day's  work 
until  to-morrow.  Will  you  keep  this  in  mind,  lit- 
tle women  and  little  men? 


BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  the  eldest  sister  of  a  little  boy  eight  years 
old,  who  has  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for 
two  months,  and  who  enjoys  every  bit  of  it — sto- 
ries, pictures,  poetry,  and  all,  but  especially  the 
Post-office  Box.  He  would  like  to  send  you  a  let- 
ter very  much,  but  does  not  write  well  enough 
yet.  he  thinks,  as  he  has  not  been  at  school  long, 
and  only  left  off  printing  a  little  while  ago.  But 
as  he  is  anxious  to  send  some  contribution  as 
well  as  all  the  other  little  boys  and  girls  from  so 
many  far-off  cities  and  country  towns,  I  have 
promised  to  write  for  him,  and  ask  you  to  tell 
them  about  a  real  little  dog  that  he  knows,  and 
then  put  his  name  at  the  end  of  the  story,  so  that 
lie  can  see  it  with  his  own  eyes  in  print. 

This  little  dog  has  only  lately  arrived  in  Amer- 
ica- He  was  horn  in  a  great  palace  in  Genoa, 
Italy,  about  four  years  ago.  and  is  an  Italian  poo- 
dle. He  is  called  King,  and  is  as  dainty  a  little 
creature  as  was  the  white  cat  Princess  in  the 
fairy  tale,  for  he  is  also  pure  white,  from  his 
moist  black  nose,  as  pointed  almost  as  that  of  a. 
fox.  to  his  long  tail, which  has  so  much  silky  white 
hair  upon  it  that  it  droops  heavily  on  the  ground, 
like  a  branch  of  a  fir-tree  when  the  snow  lies 
thick  on  it.  His  hair  is  fine  and  soft  and  wavy, 
shining  like  satin,  and  of  a  pure  white  color,  his 
eyes  large  and  brown,  and  oh!  so  wise,  and  his 
little  white  paws  look  as  if  they  could  not  step 
upon  anything  rougher  than  velvet. 

This  little  fellow  has  travelled  a  great  deal  in 
Europe  with  his  master,  and  his  travelling  car- 
riage was  a  large  straw  luncheon  basket  about 
twelve  inches  long,  with  two  strong  handles. 
This  basket  was  also  his  bed  during  the  night, 
and  I  have  often  seen  the  little  fellow  stow  him- 
self away  in  it,  and  a  pretty  sight  it  is.  His  mas- 
ter holds  tip  the  cover,  and  says,  "  Now,  my  little 
King.it  is  bed-time. "and  up  marches  King, grave- 
ly ami  obediently,  to  the  edge  of  the  basket,  puts 
first  his  two  fore-paws  into  it,  then  his  two  hind 
ones,  then  lays  his  head  upon  the  fore-paws  and 
curls  up  his  tail— and  then  he  is  just  a  round 
white  ball,  and  nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  the  glit- 
ter of  two  black  dots  of  eyes  in  the  middle  of  it. 
Then  his  master  shuts  down  the  cover,  fastens  it 
with  a  little  clasp,  and  King  never  stirs  until 
morning.  The  straw  of  which  this  basket  is  made 
is  very  coarse,  and  there  is  enough  air  inside,  and 


liuht  too,  to  prevent  him  from  feeling  shut  up  in 
the  dark. 

He  is  a  very  knowing  little  fellow,  and  once, 
when  in  a  strange  place  in  the  country,  his  mas- 
ter shut  him  up  in  the  house  one  Sunday  morn- 
ing, and  walked  off  to  church.  He  thought  that 
Kini:  was  securely  fixed  until  he  should  return  to 
let- him  out. :  but  when  he. had  walked  about  two 
miles  he  heard  a  little  panting  noise  behind  him, 
and  there  was  the  rogue  running  along  in  the 
dusty  road,  looking  as  if  he  meant  to  come  too. 
He  had  followed  his  master  all  that  distance  in  a 
strange  country,  and  must  have  run  very  fast,  as 
hr  \\iis  vrry  tin-d  and  hot,  and  was  not  able  to 
take  off  his  white  fur  coat  either,  even  although 
it  was  in  the  summer-time.  HUMPHREY  T.  N. 

What  a  darling  little  dog,  and  what  a  beauty  ! 
I  think  I  sen  the  children's  eyes  shine  as  they 
read  the  pretty  description  so  kindly  written  for 
Humphrey  by  his  elder  sister.  Do  you  know,  I 
think  those  little  boys  very  fortunate  who  have 
such  affectionate  sisters.  By-and-by  our  little 
man  will  write  for  himself. 


Now,  little  housekeepers,  bere  you  are  bright 
and  early !  I  could  not  tell  you,  if  I  tried  for  a 
mouth,  how  pleased  I  am  that  so  many  of  you 
have  sent  your  names  in  as  members  of  the  So- 
ciable. Some  of  you  want  to  know  about  rules, 
and  others  inquire  who  is  to  be  President.  I 
think  you  will  have  to  elect  me  to  be  both  Presi- 
dent and  Secretary,  and  I  will  promise  to  fill  both 
offices  as  well  as  I  possibly  can.  We  will  have 
no  rigid  rules.  It  will,  however,  be  a  good  plan 
for  you  to  form  little  cooking  clubs,  if  your  mo- 
thers do  not  object,  and  when  you  meet  you  may 
send  me  a  report.  Please  send  any  specially  good 
receipts  which  you  have  tried  and  found  satis- 
factory. 

The  other  day  I  saw  a  little  cook  descend  to 
the  kitchen  with  her  hair  flying  wildly,  and  no 
apron  over  her  pretty  dress.  She  was  intending 
to  make  cake  in  that  rig  1  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  thing  ?  I  told  her  to  tuck  her  hair  up  into 
a  knot,  fastening  it  securely,  so  that  no  loose  ends 
should  escape,  and  to  tie  on  a  nice  big  kitchen 
apron,  which  she  did  very  pleasantly. 

A  lady  never  covers  herself  with  flour  when 
she  is  cooking,  never  surrounds  herself  with  heaps 
of  unnecessary  spoons  and  dishes,  and  never 
wastes  the  slightest  scrap.  I  want  my  small 
housekeepers  to  learn  to  work  like  ladies.  So 
they  must  be  tidy  and  neat  and  economical. 

It  is  a  good  rule  to  wash  and  put  away  each 
dish  as  soon  as  you  are  done  with  it.  If  any  old- 
er person  in  the  bouse  must  be  consulted— your 
mamma,  Aunt  Libbie,  or  Bridget — try  to  manage 
your  cooking  so  that  it  will  not  interfere  with 
their  convenience. 

I  have  been  wondering  what  I  should  teach 
you  to  make  this  week.  Will  you  forgive  me, 
dears,  if,  instead  of  anything  very  rich  or  diffi- 
cult, I  give  you  simply  a  receipt  for  something 
homely  and  wholesome?  I  will  tell  you  of  three 
methods  of  making  it  for  breakfast. 

OATMEAL  PORRIDGE. — Take  a  full  cup  of  oat- 
meal, and  cover  it  with  a  quart  of  cold  water; 
let  it  stand  all  night. and  in  thr  morning  add  a 
tea-spoonful  of  salt,  and  let  it  boil  one  hour. 

This  is  Mother  B's  way,  and  is  a  very  good  one. 
Mrs.  Henderson,  in  her  Practical  Cooking  and  Din- 
ner-Giving,says,  : 

"Take  a  heaping  cup  of  oatmeal  and  a  tea- 
spoonful  of  salt,  to  a  quart  of  boiling  water,  and 
boil  the  porridge  twenty  minutes;  sprinkle  the 
meal  with  one  band  into  the  salted  and  boiling 
water,  and  stir  as  little  as  possible." 

Now  I  will  tell  you  how  to  make  it  d  la  Poet- 
mistress.  I  always  use  a  double  boiler  for  grains, 
farina,  etc.,  so  that  I  have  no  need  to  stir  the  por- 
ridge. I  sift  and  look  carefully  over  my  meal  in 
the  morning,  directly  after  breakfast.  Then  I 
pop  my  cup  of  meal  into  my  quart  of  cold  water, 
and  sprinkle  in  my  silver  tea-spoonful  of  salt.  :ind  I 
set  my  porridge  on  the  coldest  part  of  the  range, 
and  let  it  stand  and  simmer  and  simmer  for  hours. 
Nothing  suits  oatmeal  like  leisurely  cooking. 
About  noon  I  set  it  off,  and  next  morning,  after 
the  fire  is  lighted,  it  is  put  on  again,  and  comes 
steaming  hot  on  the  table  for  breakfast.  Eaten 
with  cream,  this  porridge  is  delicious. 


JKRSKY  CITY,  XEW  JKRSEV. 

I  am  twelve  years  old,  and  have  taken  your  pa- 
per fora  long  time,  and  like  it  very  much.  I  s_end 
you  a  letter  to  Santa  claus,  written  by  my  little 
sister.  Perhaps  you  will  think  it  good  enough  to 
print.  ~  ROBERT  D. 

Although  this  number  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  will 
appear  one  day  later  than  Christmas,  I  publish 
this  bright  little  rhymed  letter,  so  that  if  the  good 


old  saint  forgot  or  omitted  any  of  the  things 
Cora  so  ardently  desired,  he  may  still  bring  them 
to  her  before  the  holdays  are  over : 

Dear  Santa  Claus, 
In  your  rounds  I  wish  you'd  pause 
Over  the  chimney  of  135, 
And  stop  there,  if  you're  alive: 
Leave  me  a  box  of  writing-paper  large, 
And  a  pair  of  shoes  for  my  doll  named  Marge; 
A  book  I  would  like  on  your  list  to  set, 
The  name  of  it  is  Fred  Bradford's  Debt, 
You  can  get,  it  at  Cassel,  Petter,  Galpin,  &  Co.'s. 
739  Broadway  O ; 
I  want,  a  little  toy  caster. 
Made  of  tin.  and  not  of  plaster, 
And  a  sharp  little  penknife; 
I  bad  one  once  before  in  my  life, 
Hut.  I  lost  it  right  away. 
So  bring  it  this  time  in  your  sleigh. 
I  want  my  dolls  to  have  something  nice. 
Even  if  it's  no  more  than  some  little  toy  mice. 
Alice,  my  oldest,  a  new  dress  needs; 
Her  old  one  is  through  with  its  kindly  deeds. 
Margie  wants  a  good  warm  cloak, 
Only  not  black,  and  quite  a  long  sacque, 
I  h;tve  the  fur  to  trim  it  for  her, 
Then  very  nice  tails  I  know. 
And  your  wife  can  fix  it  just  so; 
I'll  put  the  box  up  the  flue. 
And  if  any  one  gets  it.  'twill  be  you. 
But  what  to  get  for  Emma 
I  am  in  a  dilemma  ; 
She  is  such  a  particular  child 
She  nearly  drives  me  wild. 
So  get  what  yon  think  best. 
And  your  judgment  I  can  test. 
Otis  (the  baby)  wants  a  rattle. 
If  he  don't  get  it  I'll  have  a  battle. 
And  Nettie — what  was  it  she  said? 
oh.  I  know,  a  new  head. 
And  I  want  an  inkstand,  a  box,  and  a  pen, 
Not  a  quill  from  a  hen, 
But  a  gold  one  that  shuts  up  and  is  gone, 
So  I  can  write  letters  in  the  early  morn. 
Now,  Santa,  please  send  these  things  on  Christ- 
mas-eve, 

No  sigh  you  must  heave. 

But  crawling  down  slowly,  take  a  good  look, 
And  leave  them  near  on  chair  or  book, 
Some  Christinas  soon  I  hope  you'll  see 
Your  little  friend,  CORA  D. 


GniVMiLL,  IOWA. 

I  noticed  the  letter  from  "  One  of  your  Older 
Readers,"  and  thought  that  perhaps  you  would 
like  to  have  me  send  you  directions  for  making 
a  pair  of  slippers. 

crochet  a  chain  of  thirteen  stitches,  and  when 
you  go  back,  crochet  two  stitches  in  the  same 
place  in  the  middle.  Keep  on  doing  this  until  it 
is  thirty-eight  stitches  wide.  Then,  beginning  at 
the  end.  crochet  eleven  stitches,  and  then  go  back 
and  forth  eleven  times,  or  until  you  have  six 
ridges;  then  widen  one  stitch  every  time  at  the 
top  until  you  have  sixteen  stitches  ;  'then  go  back 
and  forth  eight  times;  then  narrow  one  stitch 
every  time  at  the  top  until  you  have  eleven  stitch- 
es. Go  back  and  forth  eleven  times,  and  then 
crochet  it  to  the  front  of  the  slipper.  Crochet 
around  the  top  of  the  slipper  in  scallops.  Sew 
the  slipper  to  the  sole  loosely  around  the  heel 
and  toe,  stretching  it  a  little  over  the  instep. 
Then  run  an  clastic-  around  the  top  of  the  slipper 
under  the  scallops. 

The  cork  soles  may  be  obtained  at  any  shoe 
store  for  eight  or  ten  cents.  The  directions  giv- 
en are  for  a  No.  3  sole.  MYRTA  L. 

Crocheted  slippers  are  a  very  acceptable  pre- 
sent to  any  one.  but  they  are  particularly  nice 
for  a  lady  to  wear  in  her  dressing-room,  for  an 
invalid,  or  for  any  one  who  is  watching  with  the- 
sick  at  night.  It  is  a  pity  that  we  could  not  have 
published  this  in  time  for  Christinas  gift-makers, 
but  somebody  may  still  like  to  crochet  a  pair  of 
slippers  for  a  birthday  present. 


WASHINGTON^  IOWA. 

As  other  little  girls  were  writing  you  letters  of 
things  that  were  happening  at  their  homes,  I 
thought  I  would  tell  you  of  a  mouse  that  seemed 
fond  of  music.  A  neighbor  of  ours  was  very 
much  bothered  by  a  little  mouse  which  was  too 
smart  to  be  caught  in  a  trap.  One  evening  a  gen- 
tleman in  the  house  was  playing  a  violin,  when 
out  came  Mr.  Mouse  and  danced  all  over  the 
room,  and  seemed  so  taken  up  with  the  music 
that  it  was  easily  caught.  We  take  The  Pansy 
and  your  paper,  and  like  them  both  so  very  much  1 
I  would  like  to  have  my  papers  of  this  year  bound. 
How  much  would  it  cost  me?  Can  I  put  them 
in  the  covers  myself  ?  JENNIE  S. 

Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers  will  send  you  a  beau- 
tiful cover  by  mail  on  receipt  of  fifty  cents,  but 
you  will  have  to  get  a  book-binder  to  put  it  on 
for  you.  The  price  of  The  Child's  Book  of  Nature 
is  one  dollar. 


WALM-T  HILLS,  OHIO. 

1  thought  I  would  write  you  a  few  lines  and  ask 
you  if  among  the  little  friends  who  read  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  you  know  any  who  are  deaf  and 
dumb  ?  I  am  not  dumb,  but  I  am  so  deaf  that  all 


DECEMBER  26,  1882. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


127 


my  friends  have  to  talk  on  their  hands,  or  in  the 
deaf-mute  language.  I  have  been  deaf  three  and 
a  half  years,  caused  hy  treatment  of  the  ears.  Do 
you  think  1  have  to  stay  home  always,  now  that 
I  am  deaf  y  No,  indeed  ;  I  go  to  school  everyday 
in  town,  mi  Ninth  Street.  November  £!  was  the 
nineteenth  anniversary  of  my  father  and  mo- 
tinT's  wedding  day.  We  have  four  boys  and 
tmve  girls  in  our  family.  I  began  taking  YOUNO 
PKOPLE  at  the  ninth  chapter  of  "Toby  Tyler," 
and  like  all  the  stories  very  much.  My  deaf-mute 
teacher  reads  the  stories  out  of  them  every  Fri- 
day afternoon  by  signs.  You  would  laugh  till 
the  tears  came  in  your  eyes  to  see  her.  I  am 
fourteen  years  old.  When  Christmas  comes,  I 
wiMi  you  a  merry  one.  Good-by,  dear  kind  1'ust- 
mistress.  L.  McN. 

It  is  a  great  misfortune  to  be  deaf,  and  it  shuts 
you  out  from  hearing  many  sweet  sounds.  But 
it  also  prevents  you  from  listening  to  quarrelling 
or  to  silly  conversation  ;  and  I  see  that  you  have 
a  cheerful  spirit,  anil  make  the  best  of  things  day 
by  day.  Perhaps  you  may  recover  your  lost  hear- 
ing in  time.  1  am  so  pleased  that  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
delights  you  so  much.  Your  letter  made  me 
think  of  a  favorite  Bible  verse,  "A  merry  heart 
hath  a  continual  feast." 


PC\CAN'S  FALLS,  OHIO. 

DEAR  YOUNG  PEOPLE,— We  are  the  family  of  a 
very  busy  doctor,  but  we  all  take  time  to  read 
YOUNG  PEOPLE.  The  boys  are  often  annoyed  at 
other  papers  copying  the  stories  from  their  paper. 
They  amuse  themselves  by  guessing  which  of  the 
YOUNO  PEOPLE'S  sketches  will  be  in  our  other 
weekly  papers.  I  do  not  need  to  give  any  praise 
to  the  writers  for  your  paper,  for  they  are  all 
good.  Mrs.  O.  B.  CBUMBAHEH. 

Accept  our  thanks  for  your  graceful  words  of 
commendation.  The  quotations  which  vex  your 
boys  are  really  a  compliment  to  us,  and  we  are 
always  pleased  to  have  our  bright  and  sparkling 
articles  widely  copied,  if  due  credit  is  giveu  to 
HAIIPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


I  have  two  pets,  a  rooster  and  a  canary-bird. 
My  canary  is  named  Joe.  I  think  he  is  the  pret- 
tiest bird  I  ever  saw,  and  I  also  think  he  is  about 
as  smart  a  bird  as  I  have  yet  heard  of.  He  knows 
me  as  far  as  he  can  see  me.  When  I  come  home 
from  school  lie  begins  to  call  me.  I  am  afraid  he 
will  never  sing  again  very  well;  last  summer  he 
spoiled  his  voice  by  singing  so  loud  and  so  much 
that  now,  when  he  goes  to  sing  out  loud,  he 
breaks  down.  My  rooster  is  wliat  is  called  a 
game-cock.  He  is  red  and  black  in  color.  1  call 
him  Pet.  1  want  to  tell  yon  about  a  hen  we  had 
last  year.  She  was  coal  black  all  over,  and  she 
did  not  have  a  white  spot  on  her.  But  this  sum- 
mer, when  she  shed  her  feathers,  she  turned  part- 
ly white;  her  feet,  legs,  and  bill,  which  were  for- 
merly black,  are  now  white.  In  this  letter  I  send 
you  a  bud  off  a  fuchsia.  You  will  notice  it  has 
a  leaf  out  of  the  side  of  it.  I  never  saw  anything 
like  it  before— did  your  B.  J.  L. 

No,  I  never  saw  any  fuchsia  precisely  like  this. 
Thank  you  for  sending  it.  I  hope  your  birdie 
may  recover  his  voice. 


MAKENOO,  ILLINOIS. 

I  thought  I  would  write  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE  and 
give  a  short  account  of  my  journey  to  chau- 
tauqua.  As  little  girls  do  not  travel  alone,  my 
aunt  was  with  me.  I  went  to  Slippery  Rock 
Creek,  where  I  played  with  two  little' girls  whose 
papa  takes  YOU.NG  PEOPLE  for  them.  We  made 
a  little  pond,  and  caught  some  minnows  to  put 
in  it,  ami  hoped  they  would  remain  there,  but 
high  water  washed  them  all  away.  I  did  not  like 
to  say  good-by  to  my  tisli.  I  left  them  with  the 
nope  of  fishing  in  the  Alleghany  with  a  thread 
and  bent  pin  or  a  small  hook.  1  visited  the  Penn- 
sylvania State  Fishing  Grounds,  near  Corry.  I 
saw  some  very  large  fish.  They  were  fed  with 
chopped  meat,  which  was  thrown  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  and  they  would  swim  so  swift- 
ly that  the  water  seemed  to  boil  as  they  caught 
the  morsels  and  dived  out  of  sight.  I  will  close 
this  fish  story,  hoping  that  Santa  Claus  will  bring 
me  YOUNO  PEOPLE  until  I  am  old  enough  to  read 
HARPEH'S  MAGAZINE.  MILLIE. 


CHICAGO,  ILLINOIS. 

I  am  a  boy  eleven  years  old,  and  my  home  is  in 
Chicago.  VVe  spent  last  winter  in  San  Antonio, 
Texas.  It  is  a  very  queer  old  place.  A  great 
many  Spaniards.  Mexicans.  Germans,  and  colored 
people  live  there.  The  streets  are  very  narrow 
and  crooked,  but  there  are  plazas,  or  large 
squares,  where  the  people  sell  wood  and  hay 
At  night,  or  from  about  five  o'clock  until  morn- 
ing, t  he  Mexicans  sell  all  kinds  of  Mexican  dishes 
It  looks  very  funny  to  see  people  taking  their 
meals  out-of-doors  by  lamp-light.  They  have 
very  large  markets,  but  you  have  to  get  up  very 
early  to  get  meat,  fish,  or  vegetables.  About  a 
mile  from  the  city  are  three  or  four  beautiful 
springs  bubbling  out  of  the  lime-stone  rock 
which  form  the  San  Pedro  River.  About  three 
miles  from  town  is  another  spring,  which  forms 


the  San  Antonio  River.  There  is  a  government 
depot,  where  the  supplies  are  kept  for  the  other 
forts;  there  are  soldiers  of  both  infantry  and 
cavalry  stationed  there.  There  are  many  objects 
of  interest  in  San  Antonio,  among  them  the  Ala- 
mo, on  the  Alamo  Plaza.  It  is  an  old  stone 
church,  ill  which  three  hundred  Texans  defend- 
ed themselves  against  seven  thousand  Mexicans. 
Colonel  Howie  and  Davy  Crockett  were  killed 
there,  and  of  all  the  people  in  the  Alamo  only 
one  woman  and  her  baby  were  left  alive. 

Visitors  always  go  to  see  the  missions.  They 
are  the  ruins  of  churches  built  by  the  Francis- 
e.tn^  tor  the  conversion  of  the  Indians,  about 
two  hundred  years  ago.  The  first  one,  about 
two  miles  from  town,  is  still  in  good  condition, 
but  service  has  not  been  held  there  since  the 
close  of  the  Mexican  war.  The  second  one.  two 
miles  farther,  is  a  much  finer  building,  but  not  in 
such  good  repair.  Service  is  held  in  one  room 
tin-  the  .Mexicans  who  live  around  there.  This 
line  of  missions  extended  from  the  city  of  Mex- 
ico north  to  San  Francisco,  and  ea-st,  to  San 
Antonio. 

We  spent  two  years  in  Colorado,  and  I  know 
what  a  bucking  broncho  is,  and  a  bucking  burro 
too. 

I  have  a  little  sister  Bertha,  who  says  many 
funny  tilings,  she  hurt  her  neck  one  day,  and 
she  said,  "1  sprained  my  ankle  up  by  my  shoul- 
der." 

I  hope  you  will  print  my  letter,  as  it  is  my  hio. 
one.  EWIN  c.  R. 

ABBEVILLE,  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 

I  thank  you,  and  all  who  help  to  make  YOUNG 
PEOPLE,  for  the  nice  paper  we  enjoy.  We  have 
been  subscribers  for  three  years,  and  have  had 
many  pleasant  hours' reading  or  listening  to  the 
stories  and  letters.  I  am  a  boy  nine  years  old. 
I  have  a  sister  older  and  a  brother  younger  than 
myself.  We  live  in  the  land  of  cotton,  and  George 
and  1  had  a  cotton  patch  this  year.  We  had  hard 
times  pit-king  out  tlie  cotton,  but  after  it  was 
sold  we  had  money  enough  to  buy  a  nice  saddle 
and  bridle.  I  ride  on  grandpa's  horse;  for  we 
live  with  grandpa  and  grandma.  I  have  many 
little  cousins,  with  whom  I  love  to  meet  and 
play.  I  like  to  work  with  my  pigs.  I  have  seven 
pigs  and  two  goats,  but  the  goats  are  so  wild 
that  they  run  away  from  me  when  I  go  into  the 
pasture.  Christmas  will  soon  be  here,  and  I  do 
not  wish  for  many  tilings — only  plenty  of  fire- 
crackers. My  school  is  closed  now,  but  I  will  be 
ready  for  study  when  it  opens  again.  1  like  short 
lessons.  The  Postmistress  reminds  me  of  grand- 
pa, \\  ho  says,  "Lie  steady  boys."  J.  M.  C. 


WAUWICK,  RHODE  ISLAND. 

As  you  so  seldom  have  a  letter  from  "Little 
Rhody."  I  think  I  will  write  to  you.  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE is  my  favorite  paper,  and  I  think  the  Post- 
office  Box  tin'  best  part  of  it.  but  I  like  the  sto- 
ries too,  and  the  puzzles.  I  live  in  the  country, 
go  to  school,  and  take  music  lessons,  but  still 
have  time  to  be  out-doors.  I  am  eleven  years 
old.  can  teed  and  water  the  horses,  harness",  and 
hitch  up.  1  get  tile  eggs  every  night.  I  h;i\e  a 
dog  ami  a  big  eat  who  will  kis's  me-  at  any  time, 
lie  sleeps  with  me,  and  is  as  good  as  a  blanket. 

Mother  onee  had  a  eat  t  hat  was  a  great  hunter. 
One  day  she  brought  in  a  little  gray  squirrel,  and 
put  him  down  on  tin1  sitting-room  fioor.  when  he 
I.IIL  up  my  aunt's  dress,  and  perched  himself  on 
her  shoulder,  out  of  pussy's  reach.  Aunty  car- 
ried him  out  in  the  meadow,  and  he  scampered 
off  in  the  grass.  We  all  send  love  to  you.  Good- 
by.  FRED  J.  W. 

Tell  Marie  M.  to  rub  her  cat's  throat  and  breast 
with  castor-oil  once  or  t  wiee  a  day,  and  if  it  has 
choking  spells,  force  a  little  into  its  mouth.  I 
cured  two  cats  that  way.  E.  McG. 

If  Marie's  cat  still  coughs,  she  may  try  the 
above  treatment. 


SKWICKLKV,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  wish  to  tell  you  about  a  club  of  children  that 
meets  here  once  a  week,  and  has  a  very  good 
time.  There  are  fourteen  members.  It  is  called 
the  Wide-awake  Club,  because  we  are  all  lively. 
We  play  games.  I  will  mention  some  of  them  : 
"  Grandma's  (Questions."  "  Dr.  Fusby,"  "  Guess," 
"  Authors."  "  Picture  Gallery,  "anil  many  others.  I 
am  eleven  years  old,  and  my  sister  Marian  is  nine, 
and  my  brother  Freddie  is  almost  thirteen.  Uur 
papa  has  brought  YOUNG  PEOPLE  home  from  Pitts- 
burgh to  us  every  week  since  it  was  first  publish- 
ed, and  we  have  a  great  pile  of  papers.  Yon  will 
probably  hear  from  the  members  of  our  club  on 
one  of  our  meetings.  We  meet  on  Thursday. 
Our  aunt  started  it,  and  besides  having  fun,  we 
manage  to  learn  a  good  many  things.  ZINA  M. 

The  club  might  send  me  a  Round  Robin.  Do 
you  know  what  a  Round  Robin  is?  It  is  a  letter 
in  which  the  whole  fourteen  may  write  by  turns. 
I  will  be  looking  out  for  it. 

So  many  of  your  letters  crowded  in  while  the 
Christmas  Number,  with  its  beautiful  stories  and 
pictures,  was  crowding  Our  Post-office  Box  out 
that  I  must  make  a  little  paragraph  for  some  of 


the  contributors  whose  letters  I  can  not  find  room 
for:  Lulu  S.,your  cat,  Jimmie  G.,  is  the  first  cat 
I  ever  heard  of  that  died  of  grief.— No,  dear,  I  do 
not  at  all  like  the  new  style  of  spelling,  for  the 
reason  that  if  it  be  adopted,  we  will  lose  the 
idea  of  the  derivation  of  our  words.  The  Eng- 
lish language,  you  know,  is  the  child  of  other  and 
older  languages  in  part,  and  a  great  many  words 
are  real  pictures,  which  will  be  spoiled  if  their 
spelling  shall  be  changed.— Bessie  G.,  your  little 
rhyme  is  very  clever. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

THREE   EAST   SQUARES. 

To  .Jnnebtig. 

I.— I.  Real  estate,  a.  A  continent.  3.  Confusion. 
4.  A  match.  WALL. 

To  Topsy. 

2.— I.  A  published  note.     2.  Partly  open.     3. 
Thin.    4.  Attracted.  BUSTER. 

To  Jvnebug. 

3.— 1.  Ardor.    2.  Other.    3.  A  grand  division.    4. 
To  go  before.  WALL. 

No.  2. 

NUMERICAL  ENIGMA. 

The  whole,  of  a  letters,  is  a  public  institution. 

The  '.>,<;.;,  is  a  toy. 

The  4, 7;  8  is  a  metal. 

The  3,  xi,  1  is  to  stitch.  J.  K.  M.  ILES. 


No.  3. 

CHARADE. 

My  first  o'er  hill  and  vale  and  town 
A  garment  spreads  of  fairy  mould. 

My  second,  eyes  both  blue  and  brown, 
Knjoy  when  w  inter  eves  are  cold. 

My  whole,  with  lots  of  fun  and  noise. 

Is  greatly  prized  by  girls  and  boys. 


No.  4. 

DOUBLE  ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  mountain  in  Arabia.  2.  A  person  famed 
for  lack  of  truth.  3.  A  place  noted  for  lamenta- 
tion. 4.  The  name  of  a  prophetess.  5.  Wreck 
anil  ruin.  Primals  and  finals  give  the  names  of 
a  distinguished  Hebrew  mother  and  her  only  son. 


No.  1. 
No.  2. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  101. 
Thanksgiving. 

M 

TAR 

RACER 

TABULAR 

MACULATED 

RELATED 

R  A  T  E  L 

RED 

D 


E 

EVA 

ERASE 

V  A  S  I  V  E 

ASIDE 

EVE 

E 


A 

SLY 

SOLAR 

ALLURED 

YARDS 

RES 

D 


L 

CON 

CORAL 

L  O  R  I  M  E  R 

N  A  M  E  D 

LED 

R 


O 

POT 

COCOA 

T  O  P 

A 


T 

ORE 
R  I  E  D 
EEL 

D 


No.  3. 


No.  4. 


L 

L  A 

LAC 

LACE 

LAC 


ED 


INKS 
NAIL 
KITE 
SLED 


GNAT 
NONE 

ANNA 
TEAR 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Alice  Reno, Tommy  and  Kolinsky  Wolser, 
"Twilight  City."  Herbert  Zinser.  A.  Blooming- 
dale,  Amy  L..  Charlie  Talbot,  Richard  Davies, 
Emily  Benedict,  Pierre  K.,  Willie  Donald.  Rosa 
Alice  Mann,  Freddie  J.  White,  Carrol  Harkness, 
Charles  and  Blanche  Bloomingdate.  Maurice  Rein- 
heimer.  P.  Dolan,  Archie  Dix,  "Eureka."  Millie 
Farwell.  Jennie  R.  Miller,  "Rosebud"  and  "  Hum- 
ming-bird." Mabel  Grey,  Eugene  Dow,  Albert  E. 
Sigel,  Bennie  Johnson. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  Hd  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


128 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  (ISLAND  OF  THE  EAST  INDIES)  STORY. 

WE  (lake  in  Ireland)s  were  not  at  all  a  rich  family,  but  on 
this  particular  (mountains  in  New  Guinea)  (island  of  the 
East  Indies)  day  you  could  not  have  found  in  the  whole  town 
three  happier  children  than  (river  in  Asia),  (town  in  Turkey), 
and  I. 

We  went  to  (town  in  New  Zealand)  in  the  morning,  and  the 
minister  preached  a  long  sermon  on  (river  in  British  Columbia) 
and  (bay  in  Labrador),  and  told  us  the  legend  of  the  (island  off 
the  coast  of  England)  (one  of  the  Leeward  Islands).  Occasion- 
ally our  thoughts  would  wander  to  the  presents  we  had  just  re- 
ceived. Mine  was  a  lovely  (island  of  Malaysia)  fan,  (town  in 
Turkey )'s,  a  necklace  of  (cape  of  Madagascar)  beads,  with  a 
pendant  in  which  was  imbedded  a  tiny  (river  in  Austria),  and 
(river  in  Asia)'s,  a  (one  of  the  Caroline  Islands)  new  sled. 

Our  cousins  (island  off  the  coast  of  Ireland)  and  (river  in  Brit- 
ish Columbia)  (city  in  Massachusetts)  came  to  speud  the  even- 
ing with  us,  and  helped  us  decorate  the  rooms  with  (mountain  in 
Vermont).  Some 
one  expressed  a 
(river  in  Pata- 
gonia) to  try  the 
sled  ;  so  as  it 
was  (lake  in  Cal- 
ifornia), bright 
moonlight,  we 
put  on  (town  in 
England)  jack- 
ets, and  sallied 
forth  into  the 
(river  in  France) 
that  is  behind 
the  house.  The 
(mountains  in 


Africa)  shone  like  (mountains  in  Africa),  and  the  coast  was  so 
slippery  that  \ve  met  with  numerous  (river  in  Oregon);  but  we 
were  too  (headland  on  Martha's  Vineyard)  a  (town  in  England) 
to  mind  trifles;  mishaps  did  not  make  ns  (cape  of  Africa),  and 
we  braved  the  (cape  of  Alaska)  (river  in  Wyoming)  for  several 
hours,  until  at  last  a  terrific  blast  caused  us  to  make  a  (town  in 
Ireland)  for  the  house,  and  a  (river  in  Turkey)  to  bed  soon  fol- 
lowed. 


Jack  thinks  he  will  hang  up  his 
stocking. 


And  as  usual,  hangs  it  near 
the  chimney. 


THE  CUNNING  DONKEY. 

AT  a  gentleman's  seat  in  Ireland  the  cows  used  to  escape 
daily  out  of  their  own  field,  but  as  the  gate  was  always 
found  shut  and  fastened,  no  one  knew  how  this  happened.  But 
there  were  the  cows, nevertheless,  daily  invading  the  corn  fields, 
instead  of  grazing  in  their  own  meadow.  So  at  last  a  boy  was 
set  to  watch,  and  he  found  that  they  regularly  called  up  the  don- 
key at  a  certain  hour,  who  lifted  the  latch  of  the  gate,  let  them 
through,  and  then,  after  carefully  putting  the  latch  down  in  its 

place,  returned 
to  his  o\vn  pas- 
ture. Animals, 
notwithstanding 
that  they  are 
unable  to  talk 
with  us,  must 
have  some  means 
of  communica- 
ting their  desires 
and  thoughts  to 
another,  or 


one 

the  above  true 
incident  could 
not  have  oc- 
curred. 


Goes  to  bed  early,  feeling  somewhat 
excited. 


V 


Drowns  his  anxiety  in  peaceful 
slumber. 


He  hears  a  noise. 


Gets  up  and  looks  at  his  stocking. 


There  is  something  in  it. 


Good  gracious  1  it's  a  mouse.  Exciting  chase  around  the  room.  It  hides  behind  the  wash-stand. 


Thinks  he  has  got  him  now. 


err- <] 


But  gets  badly  wet  instead. 


Goes  back  to  bed  in  a  very  bad        Wakes  up  in  the  morning  and  won-       No,  it  was  nothing  but  a  dream, 
humor.  ders  if  it  all  happened.  He  finds  his  stocking  full. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED,  ^WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  106. 


POLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  January  2,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HABFKB  &  BEOTHKBS. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


\    -^fcmM 


'  '.I  _'     /f  •  17  '„"*>  \fi  •  v"  *^?  '  v»*w 

.//j  •  <// ^^Tiy^^:***; 
/  -'  -.  /.j     'y»-  iW:..i-»i  /  u 


.        I  • 

$^.=*gP?    $g  ^^ipV^  IP  -     ^-  -« 

n/«  ^S^& fciOrSi;' ,  -,  i :  mx 


FLORIO   AND    FLORELLA. 

SI  Cijustmas  i^aitj;  Calc. 

BY  MRS.  W.  J.  HAYS. 

I. 

rpHERE  was  once  a  child  named  Florio  who  had 
J_  neither  father  nor  mother,  uncle  nor  aunt, 
and  so  it  happened  that  he  was  adopted  by  a  witch. 
He  might  have  had  a  fairy  godmother  if  anybody 
had  remembered  to  ask  one  to  the  christening,  but 
as  no  one  took  enough  interest  in  him  for  that,  it 


130 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


was  neglected,  and  poor  Florio  became  the  property  of  a 
hideous,  hateful  old  hag,  who  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  she  was  making  trouble.  Of  course  Florio  was 
compelled  to  do  her  bidding.  Naturally  inoffensive  and 
gentle,  he  was  continually  obliged  to  do  violence  to  his 
conscience  by  obeying  the  witch. 

For  instance,  the  witch — who  was  known  by  the  name 
of  Fussioldfiiri,  and  lived  in  a  miserable  cavern  wheii  she 
was  not  travelling  about — had  great  delight  in  spoiling  any 
one's  innocent  amusement  or  upsetting  his  or  her  plans; 
she  even  started  children  quarrelling  and  disputing;  in- 
deed, she  found  this  one  of  her  particular  pastimes,  when 
she  was  not  engaged  in  annoying  older  people. 

It  was  among  children  that  she  made  Florio  partic- 
ularly useful  —  so  useful,  in  fact,  that  he  never  had  a 
friend.  If  she  found  him  amusing  himself  with  a  happy 
little  company,  she  made  him  do  some  selfish  or  ugly 
thing  which  at  once  put  a  stop  to  all  the  cheerfulness; 
and  often,  before  he  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  would 
be  struggling  and  kicking  and  screaming  and  flinging  him- 
self upon  one  or  the  other  of  his  comrades,  while  Fuss — as 
we  must  call  her  for  convenience — laughed  till  she  shook, 
and  tears  of  joy  ran  down  her  ugly  leathery  cheeks.  Then 
Florio,  ashamed,  miserable,  and  unhappy,  would  creep  off 
to  a  corner  and  weep  as  if  his  little  heart  would  break. 

It  was  after  one  of  these  dreadful  occurrences  one  day 
that  Florio,  hiding  in  the  woods,  heard  a  strange  rustling 
among  the  bushes.  He  was  so  used  to  wandering  about 
after  old  Fuss,  and  living  anyhow  and  anywhere,  that  he 
was  more  like  a  little  creature  of  the  woods  himself  than 
anything  else,  and  it  took  a  good  deal  to  frighten  him. 
Patter,  patter,  patter  it  went.  What  could  it  be?  He 
peered  in  and  out  and  under  the  bush,  but  he  saw  nothing 
except  a  nest  full  of  little  blue  eggs,  which  he  would  not 
touch  for  the  world ;  no,  he  knew  too  well  how  pleased  old 
Fuss  would  be  to  have  him  disturb  this  little  bird  family, 
and  he  concealed  it  again.  As  he  did  so,  the  sweetest 
little  voice  said, 

"That's  right." 

Florio  jumped  as  if  a  wasp  had  stung-  him. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  voice,  "you  couldn't  have  pleased 
me  better." 

"  But  who  are  you  ? — where  are  you  ?''  asked  Florio,  to 
whom  kind  words  were  unknown,  but  on  whom  they  had 
the  effect  of  making  his  heart  beat  with  a  new  and  strange 
emotion. 

"I  can  not  tell  you  anything  just  now  very  well,  but 
if  you  will  meet  me  here  in  the  moonlight  this  evening, 
Florio,  I  will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"To-night?"  questioned  the  boy,  who  did  not  like  the 
darkness. 

"Yes,  child;  have  no  fear.  I  am  the  fairy  Florella. 
Adieu." 

The  days  were  generally  too  short  for  Florio,  who  hated 
the  nights  in  the  dismal  cavern,  when  Fuss  pulled  his  hair, 
and  pinched  his  nose,  and  tripped  him  up  over  her  staff 
by  way  of  amusement ;  but  now  he  longed  for  the  night  to 
come,  although  it  must  be  confessed  he  was  not  without 
fears.  Fuss  was  uglier  than  usual,  but  this  did  not  affect 
Florio  as  it  might  have  done  had  he  not  had  something 
unusual  and  exciting  to  think  of.  Soon  as  the  witch 
tumbled  down  on  her  heap  of  straw  for  the  night,  and 
showed  by  her  heavy  breathing  and  frightful  snoring  that 
she  was  asleep,  Florio  crept  softly  from  the  cavern. 

It  was  a  beautiful  evening,  soft  and  balmy,  but  to  leave 
the  bright  roadway  and  enter  the  dark  woods  demanded 
some  courage,  for  ill  usage  had  rendered  Florio  timid  in 
the  darkness,  though,  as  I  have  said  before,  he  did  not 
fear  wild  animals.  Indeed,  when  a  young  fox  came  cau- 
tiously out  of  the  thicket,  and  glanced  about,  Florio  ap- 
proached near  enough  to  touch  his  bushy  tail. 

It  was  somewhat  difficult  to  find  the  precise  spot  of  the 
day's  occurrence,  but  he  noticed  that  whenever  he  went 


in  a  wrong  direction  a  crowd  of  fire-flies  would  start  up- 
and  show  him  the  right  way,  and  thus  he  was  enabled  to- 
find  the  sweet-brier  bush.  As  he  reached  it  he  heard  the 
same  patter,  patter,  patter  on  the  leaves  of  the  bush,  and 
looking  up,  he  saw  what  caused  the  sound.  Troops  of 
tiny  creatures  were  fluttering  from  leaf  to  leaf.  Each  had 
little  silvery  wings  like  butterflies,  and  each  carried  sprigs 
and  sprays  of  blossoms,  while  following  them  came  elves 
of  most  grotesque  appearance,  bearing  platters  of  fruit  and 
wild  honey.  In  a  moment  they  had  formed  a  circle  on 
the  grass,  and  danced  about,  singing  as  they  went,  while 
the  elves  arranged  a  feast. 

When  all  was  in  readiness,  one — of  largest  size  and  of 
apparent  superiority — beckoned  to  Florio  to  come  near. 
Afraid  to  disobey,  yet  equally  fearful  of  treading  upon 
them.  Florio  approached,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  sur- 
rounded, and  with  g'entle  pressure  obliged  to  take  their 
various  offerings.  One  gave  him  grape-leaf  cups  and 
baskets  woven  of  perfumed  grasses,  another  filled  them 
with  honey  and  fruit,  while  all  laughed  to  see  what  ap- 
peared to  them  the  enormous  quantities  necessary  for  one 
so  large. 

"Florio,  you  have  done  well  to  obey  me,"  said  the  same 
sweet  voice  he  had  heard  in  the  daytime.  "This,  added 
to  your  consideration  for  the  bird's-nest  to-day,  has  pleased 
me,  and  your  evident  misery  has  aroused  my  compassion. 
Fussioldfuri  is  an  enemy  of  ours,  and  I  never  expected  to- 
see  one  trained  by  her  show  a  pitiful  or  kind  spirit.  It 
proves  to  me  that  there  must  be  something  in  you  worth 
cultivating.  Are  you  willing  to  be  guided  by  me  ?  Do- 
you  want  to  leave  old  Fuss,  and  become  one  of  my  servi- 
tors <" 

Florio  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  fully  understood  all 
that  was  said  to  him,  but  he  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of 
leaving  Fuss,  and  said  so. 

Florella  smiled  upon  him,  and  continued:  "  It  may  not 
he  so  easy  as  you  imagine;  those  who  serve  me  have  to 
stand  a  test  of  faithfulness,  energy,  and  courage.  Our 
life  seems  one  of  careless  mirth,  but  it  is  not  so.  We,  of 
course,  are  happy,  and  enjoy  ourselves ;  but  we  have 
many  duties,  and  are  not  altogether  free,  as  would  be  sup- 
posed. I  am  at  the  head  of  this  little  band.  We  are 
Flower  Fairies,  cousins  to  the  Wind  Fairies  and  Herb 
Elves.  I  am  familiar  with  every  wild  flower  that  grows, 
and  I  am  now  desirous  of  getting  for  our  forests  some 
seeds  of  the  Swiss  Edelweiss.  If  you  can  procure  them 
for  me  I  will  reward  you  handsomely." 

Poor  Florio  heard  this  speech  with  consternation.  He 
had  never  in  all  his  life  known  one  flower  from  another. 
Where,  when,  how,  could  he  go  ?  And  if  he  went,  how 
should  he  escape  Fuss?  These  thoughts  made  the  poor 
child  falter  and  grow  pale.  It  would  have  been  so  much 
easier  to  say  he  could  not  do  it,  and  have  done  with  the 
matter,  but  the  remembrance  of  his  horrible  slavery,  and 
the  thought  that  Florella  believed  in  his  ability  to  aid  her, 
stimulated  his  courage,  and  he  said: 

' '  I  know  nothing  of  flowers,  dear  lady ;  I  am  a  very 
ignorant  fellow;  but  if  you  will  direct  me  and  tell  me 
where  to  go,  I  am  ready  to  try." 

"Spoken  well,  my  lad,"  said  the  fairy.  "I  do  not  ex- 
pect impossibilities.  We  are  the  only  ones  who  can  do- 
wliat  seems  impossible  to  man.  The  Edelweiss  is  a  mount- 
ain flower,  growing  on  the  highest  Alps,  and  many  a  man 
has  lost  his  life  striving  to  pluck  it  for  one  he  loved.  It 
is  much  esteemed  for  its  rarity,  and  because  of  the  often 
great  difficulty  of  getting  it.  See;  here  is  a  dried  blos- 
som;" and  she  put  in  his  hand  a  small  white  flower  like 
an  immortelle,  though  Florio  thought  that  it  looked  as  if 
it  were  made  of  flannel,  it  was  so  soft  and  woolly. 

"This  you  must  keep;  see,  I  will  put  it  in  this  case  of    j 
birch  bark,  and  you  had  better  place  it  in  your  bosom. 
Now  I  must  tell  you  about  the  journey.      To  leave  Fussi- 
oldfuri immediately  might  make  the  task  more  diliicult.    ; 


JANUARY  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


131 


She  is  about  starting  for  the  mountains,  and  if  you  keep 
with  her  awhile  longer  you  will  be  able  to  find  the  place 
you  need  much  sooner  than  if  you  went  alone.  But 
when  you  reach  Geneva  you  are  to  leave  her.  Can  you 
remember  that  '" 

"Oh  yes,  the  rhyme  will  help  me: 

"  '  When    I    get    to    (ietleva, 

Then  I  must  leave  her.' " 

"  Exactly,  and  then  you  arc  to  seek  the  Edelweiss,  and 
when  you  have  gathered  the  seeds  you  are  to  meet  me 
here  in  this  forest,  whether  it  be  winter  or  whether  it  be 
summer.  Adieu.'' 

The  fairy  vanished,  and  with  her  went  her  band— nod- 
ding, waving,  and  kissing  their  finger-tips. 

(Hi.  how  dreary  the  woods  seemed  without  the  little 
troop!  The  wind  sighed  in  the  pines,  and  the  moon- 
light cast  fearful  shadows  from  the  gnarled  and  knotty 
boughs. 

Florio  rose  with  a  sigh  and  stretched  his  limbs,  won- 
dering if  it  was  worth  while  to  try  and  do  the  fairy's  bid- 
ding, when  he  had  to  go  back  to  hear  the  dreaded  voice  of 
old  Fuss.  Then  he  made  sure  of  the  birch-bark  case,  and 
again  with  the  aid  of  the  fire-Hies  found  the  road.  Fuss 
•was  sound  asleep  still  when  he  laid  himself  down  on  his 
bundle  of  straw  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  cavern.  One 
thing  he  did  not  notice,  and  that  was  the  young  fox  whose 
bushv  tail  he  had  touched  going  into  the  woods.  It  had 
followed  him  home,  and  crept  in  under  the  straw  beside 
him. 

|  TO    1IK    CO.NTIXrED.] 


THE  TRUSTFUL  SPARROW. 

BY  ELIZABETH  A.  DAVIS. 

"  Tins  crumb  is  mint  "  said  Sparrow  (Iray. 

"  The  onlv  one   I've  hail  tn-day. 

Ami   I  xlitiiil'l  In-  a   silly  binl 

To  give  you  hall,  or  even  thinl : 

For  see!  the  ground  is  white  with  snow, 

And  may  lie  weeks   for  aught  I  know." 

"If  'tis,"  replied  the  younger  bird, 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  overheard: 

I  heard  some  little  children   sa\, 

In  that  great  house  aeross  the  way, 

How  they  should  seatter  crumbs  of  bread. 

That   every  binl  might  he  well  fed, 

Till  all  the  ice  and  snow   were  gone  ; 

So  cheer  up.     Pr^fl  don't  loolc  forlorn : 

I'd   rather  guxe  on   miles  of  siiou 

Than  see  a  bird  with  looks  of  woe." 

"You  simple !"  twittered  Sparrow  iira\, 

"  That's  always  just  your  heedless  way. 

No  matter  whether  foul  or  fair, 

It's  'i7(!/y>,  »'/</>y*,  cMrpt*  without  a  eare. 

And  now  you  think  you'll  be  well  fed ; 

I  hopp  you  haven't  been  misled  ; 

But  time  will  tell.     Good-day,  good-day." 

And  greedy  Sparrow  flew  away. 

The  little  bird  was  left  alone — 

Poor  wee,  wee  Sparrow,  scaree  half  grown! 

The  eold  winds  soon  began  to  blow ; 

No  shelter  offered,  high  nor  low  ; 

Hut  mindful  of  the  promised  crumbs, 

To  the  great  house  at  length  he  couie^, 

A  little  shivering  hungry  bird. 

Then  to  the  window  where  he  heard 

The  children's  voices  straight  he  flies, 

And  with  his  chirping  Sparrow  cries 

Soon  brought  them  thronging  to  his  side. 

Then  quick  the  sash  they  opened  wide, 

Strewed  thick  with  crumbs  the  sheltered  sill, 

Till  wee,  wee  Sparrow  had  his  fill, 

And  chirping  soft,  as  if  to  say, 

"I  thank  you,  thank  \ou,"  flew  away. 

Dear  little  ehildren  !  dear  wee  bird  ! 
Could  we  but  heed  the  promised  Word 
Of  One  who  keeps  both  great  and  small, 
And  notes  u  single  sparrow's  fall ! 


THE  TOY-SHOP  WINDOWS. 

BY  AUNT  MARJOKIE  PRECEPT. 

IF  I  knew  where  to  find  a  fairy  godmother  this  bright 
winter's  day,  do  you  know  what  I  would  ask  her  to 
give  rne  '.  Three  wishes,  of  course.  With  wish  number 
one  I  would  whisk  all  the  far-away  readers  of  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  right  here  to  the  city  in  a  twinkle.  With  number 
two  I  would  show  them  the  beautiful  holiday  sights  011 
which  I  have  been  feasting  my  eyes;  and  with  number  three 
I  would  give  every  child  of  them  the  dearest  desire  of  his 
or  her  heart. 

Alas !  the  days  of  fairy  godmothers  are  past.  It  is  not 
possible  to  bring  you  all  here  011  some  magical  piece  of 
carpet,  and  let  you  see  for  yourselves  the  wonders  of  this 
great  city  at  Christmas-time.  But  there  is-one  thing  that 
can  be  done.  Our  artists  are  here  with  their  busy  pen- 
cils and  they  are  always  ready  to  do  whatever  they  think 
will  please  the  little  folk.  Miss  McDermott  has  made 
you  a  series  of  pretty  drawings  from  the  wonderful  win- 
dous  of  the  toy  shops,  which  you  will  find  on  page  137, 
and  I  am  going  to  try  and  tell  you  about  some  of  the 
lovely  things  that  are  displayed  in  such  profusion. 

When  1  was  a  little  girl  I  would  have  gone  fairly  wild 
had  1  seen  Santa  Claus's  land,  with  its  hills  and  dales, 
plain  to  view  in  a  store,  on  my  way  to  school.  As  it  was, 
I  wondered  at  the  children  who  did  nothing  more  than 
to  dance  up  and  down,  and  say  "Oh!"'  and  "Ah!"  and 
"Oh,  mamma!  there  truly  is  dear  Santa  himself!"  when 
in  a  great  window  there  was  the  ground  white  and  shin- 
ing with  snow,  and  there  too  were  the  reindeer  as  large  as 
life,  just  ready  to  prance,  and  the  big  house  in  the  distance 
where  St.  Nicholas  lives,  the  green  trees,  and  the  presents 
with  which  his  bag  was  crammed  to  bursting. 

"  That  Christmas  girlie  in  the  picture  hasher  arms  full," 
you  say.  Yes,  indeed.  Well,  hundreds  of  Christmas 
boys  and  girls  have  tripped  along,  their  eyes  sparkling, 
their  hands  overflowing  with  parcels  and  bundles,  in  these 
merry  holiday  times.  Really,  we  were  quite  ready  to 
envy  that  old  fellow  in  the  mythology  who  had  a  hundred 
hands.  We  could  have  used  as  many  if  we  had  had  them. 

The  prettiest  and  most  charming  part  of  it  all  was  that 
the  children  wanted  the  dolls,  the  elephants,  the  whistles, 
the  boxes,  the  woolly  dogs,  the  enchanting  illustrated 
books,  the  rings,  the  pins,  and  all  the  wonderful  gifts,  not 
for  themselves,  but  for  those  they  loved. 

There  is  nothing  selfish  in  the  spirit  of  Christmas. 
Every  train  which  rolled  into  New  York  or  slackened 
speed  at  Jersey  City  for  days  beforehand  brought  troops 
of  merry  little  ones,  with  eager  faces  and  voices.  They 
were  to  have  a  taste  of  Christmas  pleasure  in  looking  at 
the  magnificent  pictures  which  the  shop-keepers  had  made 
for  their  enjoyment.  It  was  just  like  seeing  a  story-book 
come  to  life  to  walk  along  Broadway  or  the  Avenues. 
The  whole  of  Mother  Goose,  the  best  part  of  the  fairy  tales, 
and  the  most  entertaining  things  which  ever  happen  to 
grown-up  people,  were  exhibited  in  dramas  with  dolls  for 
actors. 

There  were  brides  and  bridemaids,  mammas  and  nurses 
with  babies  in  the  cradles,  and  tots  of  two  or  three  years 
toddling  about,  school-girls  and  school-boys,  sailors,  sol- 
diers, old  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and,  in  fact,  everything  in 
the  way  of  a  doll  which  could  be  thought  of.  Some  were 
going  to  church,  some  were  embarking  for  Europe,  some 
were  flirting,  and  some  were  behaving  primly.  I  wish  you 
all  could  have  been  here  to  see  them. 

I  hope,  now  that  Christmas  is  only  a  pleasant  memory, 
that  we  may  go  on,  the  year  through,  try  ing  to  make  every- 
body as  happy  as  everybody  was  when  the  Christmas 
greetings  were  flying  from  lip  to  lip.  Just  think  what  a 
beautiful  world  this  would  be  if  nobody  was  ever  impa- 
tient, and  if  the  young  and  gay  were  always  kind  to  the 
ill,  the  poor,  the  aged,  and  the  weary! 


132 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV 


AN    ABMFUL    UF    l'OSIL>. 

NAN.* 

BY   1IRS.  JOHX   LILLIE, 
AUTHOR  op  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "  AI-NT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION-,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IT  had  been  arranged  that  Mrs.  Heriot  was  to  take  Nan 
down  to  the  house  of  the  Rolfs  in  College  Street,  and 
ray  little  heroine  had  to  go  through  the  worriment  of  mind 
that  had  become  usual  whenever  that  good  woman  did 
anything  for  her.  Since  not  only  did  Mrs.  Heriot  never 
by  any  chance  hurry,  but  it  seemed  to  be  one  of  her  in- 
flexible rules  to  be  late  on  any  such  occasion. 

Nan,  in  a  pretty  new  gingham,  with  her  new  summer 
hat  and  a  parasol,  had  waited  half  an  hour  before  Mrs. 
Heriot  came  slowly  along  the  hall,  looking  very  warm 
in  a  red  shawl  and  a  bonnet  covered  with  flowers  and 
feathers. 

Nan  could  hardly  walk  through  College  Street  any  more 
composedly  than  the  twins  had  done  011  their  visit.  But  it 
was  not  raining  to-day;  the  sky  was  bright  and  blue,  the 
air  delicious,  and  in  the  gardens  which  they  passed  were 
all  manner  of  spring  blossoms;  the  lilacs  seemed  to  nod 
their  heads  at  Nan  over  the  walls,  and  the  syriugas  were, 
she  thought,  like  big  white  "  daytime  stars." 

Rolf  House  was  at  one  end  of  a  hilly  street,  and  all 
along  toward  the  sea-side  part  of  the  town  were  fine  old- 
fashioned  houses,  with  gardens  and  box-walks,  and  the 
look  of  old-time  comfort  which  one  sees  in  comfortable 
New  England  towns.  Nan  thought  she  would  like  to  see 
inside  some  of  the  houses  she  passed,  they  looked  so  well 
kept  and  contented.  Sometimes  young  faces  appeared  in 
the  windows,  and  then  Nan  always  said,  "Mrs.  Heriot, 
who  lives  there  ?"  And  Mrs.  Heriot  would  cough  signifi- 
cantly, look  around,  and  give  the  names  of  the  residents, 
with  bits  of  their  family  history.  Some  of  the  names  im- 


Bejjun  in  No.  1J7,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


pressed  Nan  very  strongly,  because  of  the  young  people  in 
the  windows.  In  one  small,  dreary-looking  house  she  saw 
the  face  of  a  little  boy,  evidently  an  invalid.  He  leaned 
against  the  window,  and  pulled  the  tassel  of  the  curtain 
with  a  thin,  restless  hand,  while  his  sad  eyes  looked  out 
upon  the  street,  seeming  to  Nan  to  say  how  he  longed  to 
be  there. 

"That  is  Captain  Hand's  house,"  Mrs.  Heriot  explain- 
ed, "and  that  boy  is  his  grandson.  He's  had  spine  dis- 
ease for  years."  Nan  fancied  the  poor  little  fellow  smiled 
at  her  as  she  looked  up  with  a  sweet,  compassionate  glance. 
She  determined  to  ask  Joan  whether  she  knew  him,  and  if 
they  couldn't  try  to  amuse  him. 

Below  this  long,  irregular  street  lay  the  business  part  of 
the  town  and  the  shipping-places;  but  a  river  intersected 
the  city,  running  back  of  College  Street,  and  Nan  remem- 
bered, with  a  thrill  of  pleasure,  that  Joan  had  talked  of  a 
boat  all  their  own.  Nan  had  a  love  of  out-door  sports, 
which  was  more  powerful,  I  fear,  than  even  her  desire  to 
be  practical  and  well  educated.  She  had  learned  to  row 
and  to  skate  and  to  coast,  and  even  to  play  ball,  during 
her  Bromfield  life,  and  her  secret  desire  at  present  was 
for  a  horse  and  a  dog  of  her  own.  Mrs.  Heriot  took  a 
short  turning  to  the  right,  where  the  trees  seemed  to  be 
closer  and  the  street  more  countrified.  At  its  upper  end 
were  the  colleges — large,  red  brick  buildings,  with  the 
shade  of  many  elms.  Nan  had  no  interest  in  them,  how- 
ever; she  wanted  to  see  Cousin  Phyllis's  home. 

It  was  a  large  though  somewhat  shabby  frame  house, 
with  a  wing  in  which  was  a  long  two-storied  balcony. 
It  stood  back  from  the  road,  and  had  a  wandering  garden 
and  lawn  in  front,  and  a  porch  with  tall  pillars,  on  which, 
as  Nan  and  Mrs.  Heriot  appeared,  the  tribe  of  cousins 
were  disporting  themselves.  Joan  was  busy  on  some 
fishing-lines,  an  operation  which  Dicksie  was  critically 
regarding,  kneeling  on  the  step  below  her;  Alfred  and 
Bertie  were  marching  up  and  down  in  a  regimental  man- 
ner; and  Laura  was  working  just  within  the  wide  open 
door.  The  hall  ran  through  the  house,  with  wide  doors 
at  either  end.  Nan  saw  a  big,  straggling  garden  beyond, 
and  had  a  glimpse  of  the  river.  Cousin  Phyllis,  in  a 
fresh  muslin  dress  and  pretty  blue  ribbons,  was  standing 
on  the  back  steps. 

The  cousins  greeted  Nan  tumultuously,  except  Laura, 
who,  of  course,  was  more  dignified  in  her  method  of  wel- 
come. Mrs.  Heriot  went  out  to  speak  to  Miss  Phyllis, 
and  Joan  immediately  laid  hold  of  Nan. 

"Now,"  exclaimed  Alfred,  "what  are  we  to  do  ?  what 
would  you  like  to  do.  Nan  ?" 

"  Oh,  anything,"  said  beaming  Nan. 

Joan  pondered ;  then  she  said,  looking  very  earnestly 
at  the  rest,  ' '  Shall  we  show  her  the  theatre  first  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Dick. 

Laying  aside  her  gloves  and  parasol,  Nan  gladly  allow- 
ed herself  to  be  taken  around  the  house  and  down  to- 
ward the  stables.  There  was  here  an  old  unused  carriage- 
house,  and  Joan,  as  they  went,  explained  that  their  father 
had  allowed  them  to  make  iise  of  it  for  some  theatricals 
they  were  getting  up  as  a  surprise  for  Phyllis's  birthday. 
It  was  Joan  who  did  the  talking,  but  here  Laura  seemed 
to  have  been  the  manager  or  organizer  of  the  enterprise. 
She  said,  rather  coldly,  to  Nan, 

"Don't  you  want  to  take  one  of  the  parts,  Nan  ?" 

"Yes,  please,  if  Aunt  Letty  says  I  may." 

"Oh!"  cried  Joan,  "can't  she  be  the  Captive,  Laura?" 
And  she  added,  quickly,  "You  see,  Laura  wrote  the  play 
all  herself,  and  it's  perfectly  beautiful!" 

Laura  looked  rather  pleased  by  this,  and  she  said  perhaps 
Nan  could  be  the  Captive.  The  carriage-house  consisted 
of  one  large  room,  with  a  sort  of  frame-work  of  a  partition 
at  one  side,  which  they  intended  to  curtain,  and  at  the 
back  were  two  big  windows,  which  with  care  might  be 
used  as  exits.  Indeed,  the  amusement  to  be  derived  from  j 


JANUARY  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


133 


them  seemed  to  appeal  more  than  anything  else  to  the  boys, 
who  immediately  began  tumbling-  in  and  out  of  them, 
Alfred's  facility  for  putting  his  heels  in  the  air  coming  in 
most  usefully. 

Laura  showed  Nan  how  they  meant  to  divide  the  au- 
dience from  the  stage.  It  could  readily  be  done.  "  But," 
she  sighed,  "  if  only  Lance  were  home,  he  would  do  it  all." 

And,  singular  to  say,  at  this  moment  a  shout  arose  from 
the  twins,  who  were  just  outside  the  door: 

"Lance!  Lance!  here  he  is!" 

There  was  a  general  scramble  toward  the  house.  Sure 
enough,  it  iritH  Lance  himself,  though  what  had  brought 
him  home  before  vacation  no  one  could  imagine.  But 
there  he  was  striding  across  the  garden,  Joan  and  Dicksie 
clutching  him  violently,  and  Alfred  performing  his  wild- 
est antics  near  his  heels. 

Nail  felt  as  if  old  Bromfield  days  had  suddenly  come 
back.  She  saw  the  store,  the  streets,  Mrs.  Grange's  house, 
and  the  first  glimpses  of  her  new  life.  She  drew  hack,  al- 
most wondering  if  Lance  remembered  her.  But  there  was 
no  doubt  in  her  mind  a  moment  later,  for  Lance,  with  his 
bright  smile  and  pleasant  voice,  had  come  up  and  grasped 
her  hand  affectionately. 

"Well,  how  are  you,  little  Nan  ?"  he  said,  cheerily,  and 
Nan  laughed  and  dimpled  gayly.  She  made  one  of  the 
group  about  him  while  Lance  told  how  illness  had  broken 
out  in  the  school,  and  the  boys  had  all  suddenly  to  be  dis- 
missed. 

"  Well,"  remarked  Joan,  "if  it  wasn't  a  perfectly  killing 
kind  of  illness,  I  must  say  I'm  glad;  and  oh.  Lance!  Lance! 
Lance !      you're     just     in 
time !" 

"There's  always  some- 
thing to  be  in  time  for  with 
you,  Joan,"  laughed  Lance, 
pinching  his  little  sister's 
ear  softly.  "What  is  it 
now  ?" 

"Oh,  it's  Laura's  play," 
whispered  Joan.  "  It's  to 
be  a  surprise  for  Phyl's 
birthday." 

' '  Is  there  a  very  san- 
guinary part  for  me,  Lol- 
lie?"  said  Lance.  "Re- 
member, the  last  time,  I 
killed  every  one  beauti- 
fully." 

Laura  colored  and  bit 
her  lip.  "  If  you  are  go- 
ing to  make  fun  of  it, 
Lance — "  she  began. 

"But  I've  no  such  idea," 
he  said,  good -humoredly. 
"Now  when  I  can  get 
something  to  eat,  I'd  like 
to  hear  more  of  it.  I  feel 
a  raving  craving  within 
me." 

Alfred's  eyes  grew  big. 
"There's  a  whole  row  of 
pies  cooling  down-stairs," 
he  said,  "and  doughnuts. 
I  saw  them !" 

"And  The  Great  didn't 
eat  any  of  them  ?" 

"  Dichi'tJte  ?"  said  Joan, 
with  her  mouth  curled  al- 
most out  of  sight.  ' '  He 
just  went  for  them." 

Lance  laughed  heartily, 
and  they  all  turned  back  to 
the  house,  where  Mr.  Rolf 


stood  waiting  to  see  his  son,  and  Phyllis  was  bustling 
about  in  the  dining-room,  preparing  an  impromptu  sort  of 
dinner  for  her  favorite  brother. 

Nan  followed  Joan  into  the  dining-room.  She  was 
greatly  interested  in  seeing  everything  about  the  house, 
and  almost  directly  the  influence  of  Cousin  Phyllis's  pret- 
ty, dainty  taste  had  reached  her.  The  dining-room  was  a 
large  one,  and  full  of  sunshine  and  flowers;  it  seemed  to 
Nan.  and  it  looked  very  plainly,  the  sort  of  room  in  which 
a  large,  merry  family  of  young  people  would  like  to  eat 
their  meals.  Phyllis  might  look  to  Nan  a  very  grand 
young  lady,  but  she  was  evidently  not  above  setting  the 
table,  and  arranging-  the  little  dinner  which  Martha,  the 
house-maid,  brought  in  on  a  tray ;  and  between  whiles  Nan 
saw  her  dust  one  or  two  places  011  the  sideboard,  and  put 
things  straight  here  and  there,  quite  with  the  air  of  a  per- 
son accustomed  to  performing  such  household  duties. 

Why,  pondered  Nan,  as  she  stood  in  one  of  the  win- 
dows— why  had  Phyllis  seemed  so  "  fine"  a  lady  in  Brom- 
field, so  anxious  to  cut  Nan  adrift  from  her  step-aunt's 
family?  Had  the  girl  been  a  little  older  and  wiser,  she 
wi  in  Id  have  understood  it  better,  or  have  been  able  to  make 
clearer  distinctions.  Phyllis's  one  point  of  pride  was 
himilij.  To  her  it  was  everything  that  she  was  a  Miss 
Rolf  of  Beverley.  She  knew  better  than  the  others  liowr 
many  times  t  hey  had  had  to  pinch  and  save,  and  turn  here 
and  there,  to  keep  up  what  she  called  "appearances";  but, 
at  all  events,  nothing  "  vulgar"  had  ever  come  near  them. 
Did  she,  I  wonder,  think  it  more  honorable  to  be  a  "Rolf," 
i  and  often  one  the  hatcher  and  the  baker,  than  to  have 


THE    'THEATRE." 


134 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


been  a  plain  somebody  or  nobody,  who  knew  not  the  dis- 
honor of  debt  ? 

Lance  professed  himself  well  satisfied  with  his  dinner, 
and  he  sat  down  between  Phyllis  and  Laura,  and  talked 
eagerly.  The  younger  members  of  the  family  sat  on  the 
ledges  of  the  windows  and  looked  on  admiringly,  while 
Nan  crept  close  to  Joan,  who  kept  up  a  little  whispered 
murmur  about  the  play. 

By  this  time  Nan  knew  its  plot.  It  was  as  follows:  A 
person,  called  simply  a  "Knight,"  takes  captive  a  young 
person  who  speaks  ail  unknown  tongue.  He  brings  her 
to  his  people,  among  whom  is  a  Magician,  who  alone  can 
understand  her.  To  him  she  tells  her  sad  history,  how 
she  is  a  princess  of  the  "  Gondulfo  tribe,''  and  to  prove  it 
she  calls  upon  the  Magician  to  light  up  his  lamp,  and  rub 
a  certain  ring  she  wears,  and  he  can  see  her  family.  These 
personages  appear,  one  after  another,  at  the  back  of  the 
stage.  The  Magician  recognizes  among  them  his  own 
long-lost  nephew,  the  Princess's  brother,  and  as  the  spirits 
vanish  he  cries  out,  "You  are,  then,  my  niece,  Artemisia 
Gondulfo."  She  admits  that  she  is;  the  Knight  appears, 
and  a  general  understanding  follows.  The  Magician  pours 
upon  Artemisia  the  wealth  he  has  gathered  for  years, 
while  she  marries  the  Knight,  who  leads  her  back  to  the 
Gondulfos  with  rejoicing. 

"Don't  you  think."  whispered  Nan,  "that  perhaps  the 
people  will  want  to  know  where  the  princess  came  from  :" 

Joan  looked  really  troubled.  "  Now,  see  here,  Nan," 
she  said,  as  serenely  as  she  could,  "  I  can  just  see  how  you 
are  always  going  to  take  things:  you  want  them  so — illit- 
erate ;"  Joan  stammered,  and  added,  "  No.  I  don't  mean  ex- 
actly that;  I  mean  liti'rtil.  Did  you  ever  hear  people  in 
a  real  theatre,  for  instance,  stand  up  and  ask  questions  ';" 

Nan  found  she  knew  of  110  such  occasion:  but  she  had 
only  twice  been  in  a  real  theatre. 

''Oh  dear.1''  said  Joan.  "I  don't  mind  telling  you  a 
secret,  Nan:  I  think,  when  I'm  older,  1  shall  be  an  act- 
oress." 

"Oh,  Joan !"  came  from  Nan,  in  a  dismayed  under-tone. 

"Well,  I  Ihhik  so,"  said  Joan,  looking  very  grave. 
And  Nan  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  most  horrified  or 
awe-struck. 

But  just  now  Joan  had  other  things  to  think  of.  While 
Lance  was  finishing  his  dinner,  she  suggested  taking  Nan 
up  to  the  room  she  shared  with  Laura.  The  two  went  out 
and  up  the  stairs  to  a  breezy  bedroom,  which  at  once  show- 
ed that  two  people  with  very  different  tastes  or  ideas  occu- 
pied it.  One  side  plainly  showed  Laura's  finical,  senti- 
mental sort  of  fancies;  the  other  Joan's  restless,  careless, 
active  spirit.  There  were  two  little  iron  beds;  the  floor 
was  covered  with  a  bright-flowered  carpet,  and  the  walls 
were  full  of  pictures;  some,  it  is  true,  only  cuts  from  il- 
lustrated papers,  but  all  well  selected.  There  were  dormer- 
windows,  and  iu  one  a  cage  with  two  canaries.  Joan  dis- 
played her  special  treasures  to  Nan,  sitting  on  the  floor 
before  an  old  trunk,  in  which  were  some  dolls'  clothes, 
some  bits  of  finery  saved  for  theatricals,  and  which  Joan 
called  "  properties,  "and  various  books  and  shells,  and  even 
some  minerals. 

"Oh,  Joan, "exclaimed  Nan,  "I  wish  you  knew  Philip!" 
The  sight  of  the  minerals  brought  back  the  crow'ded  little 
parlor  in  Bromfield,  where,  perhaps,  even  now  Philip  was 
busy  among  his  precious  belongings. 

Joan  looked  up,  her  gray  eyes  widely  open. 

"Who's  Philip  ("  she  asked. 

Nan  told  all  about  Philip,  and  something  of  Marian. 
The  two  girls  decided  they  would  ask  Phyllis  or  Aunt  Let- 
ty  if  Nan  might  not  write  to  Philip.  Joan  entered  very 
heartily  into  this  idea,  and  it  produced  so  many  pucker- 
ings  of  her  nose  and  mouth  that  finally  Nan  burst  out  into 
an  irrepressible  laugh. 

"  Oh,  Joan,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you  do  draw  up  your  face 
so  funnily!" 


"Yes,"  said  good-humored  Joan,  laughing  with  Nan, 
"don't  If  She  jumped  up  and  went  over  to  the  looking- 
glass,  where  she  scrutinized  her  thin  little  face  very  care- 
fully. "See  here.  Nan,"  she  said,  turning  round,  "just 
see  how  my  flesh  hangs."  She  pulled  at  her  cheeks,  and 
made  various  other  demonstrations  of  the  kind.  "Papa 
says  I  must  fill  out,  or  I'll  be  so  ugly" — here  Joan  made 
her  very  worst  pucker — "that  no  one  will  be  able  to  look 
at  me  without — well,  nearly  fainting  away." 

Nan  laughed  again  until  the  tears  streamed  down  her 
cheeks. 

"Joan,  "she  said,  sobering  finally,  "  I'll  promise  to  love 
you  always." 

But  Joan  only  stood  still,  shaking  her  head  solemnly. 

"  Are  you  sure,  Nan  ?"  she  answered. 

"Perfectly  sure,"  said  Nan;  and  upon  this  Joan  dived 
into  her  little  trunk  and  produced  a  small  note-book. 

"Let's  write  it  down,"  she  said,  very  earnestly. 
"  What's  the  day  of  the  month  ?" 

Nan  said  it  was  May  29;  so  Joan  entered  the  date,  and 
underneath  it  wrote:  "  Annice  and  Joan  Rolf  this  day 
decide  to  be  perfectly  true  friends.  They  will  never  let 
anything  separate  them." 

"Now,"  said  Joan,  "let  us  each  sign  it:  but,  Annice — 
or  Nan — first  we  ought  to  do  something  a  little  solemn ; 
throw  beans  over  our  heads,  or  something  like  that." 

Nan  hesitated,  and  her  face  flushed.  "Joan,"  she  said, 
quietly,  "  I  don't  think  that  is  half  so  solemn  as — as — 
something— like  a  little— kind  of  a  prayer." 

Joan  looked  a  trifle  puzzled.      "  Well,"  she  assented. 

Nan  took  her  cousin's  hand  very  firmly. 

"  Suppose, "  she  said,  "we-  say — together — 'God  bless 
this.'" 

Nan  could  think  of  nothing  more  elaborate :  but  the  two 
children,  standing,  together  signed  their  names  to  the 
queer  little  compact,  and  then  together  said,  not  knowing 
half  how  solemn  it  really  was,  "  God  bless  thin." 

For  a  moment  or  two  they  did  not  speak ;  but  when  the 
tea-bell  rang  they  went  down-stairs  very  merrily — on  the 
last  flight,  indeed,  Joan  showed  Nan  how  to  slide  down  oil 
the  balusters,  a  performance  Alfred  and  Dicksie  greeted 
with  cheers  from  the.  porch  below. 

[TO  BE    CONTINUED.] 


LEARNING  A  TRADE. 

BY  JAMES   OTIS 

DEAR  EDITOR,— How  can  a  boy  fifteen  years  of  age  get 
an  opportunity  to  learn  a  good  trade  ?     Does  it  make  any 
difference  if  he  isn't  very  far  along  in  his  studies,  and  how  lunch 
ean  he  earn  ?  WILLIE  L.  15." 

In  order  to  be  able  to  answer  letters  similar  to  the  one 
above,  the  editor  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  sent  to  Messrs.  Tiffany 
&  Co.,  the  great  jewellers  and  silversmiths  of  New  York, 
to  learn  what  their  method  of  teaching  boys  the  business 
was.  The  information  was  readily  given,  as  will  be  seen. 

Let  Willie  fancy  that  he  has  entered  the  jewelry  house 
spoken  of  with  the  intention  of  applying  for  a  situation  as 
apprentice  in  some  branch  of  either  gold  or  silver  smithing. 
The  gentleman  who  has  charge  of  the  manufacturing  por- 
tion of  the  business  will  be  very  certain  to  ask  him  about 
his  studies,  providing  he  has  first  been  able  to  show  by  let- 
ters from  his  teachers  and  acquaintances  that  he  is  a  peace- 
ably disposed,  well-behaved  boy.  Combined  with  a  will- 
ingness to  work,  every  employer  wants  a  boy  of  correct, 
habits,  studiously  inclined,  and  cleanly  in  his  ways. 

In  either  of  the  trades,  if  a  boy  has  any  desire  to  rise 
above  the  purely  mechanical  branches,  a  knowledge  of 
drawing  is  indispensable,  for  the  designer  is  the  chief 
among  the  laborers,  and  the  progress  which  the  applicant 
has  made  with  his  pencil  determines  which  department 
of  the  business  he  shall  enter. 

In  the  factory  are  many  rooms,  each  one  of  which  is  de- 


JAM  AKY  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


135 


voted  to  some  particular  portion  of  tin-  work.  For  in- 
staiicr.  \\  here  the  solid  silverware  is  made,  the  first  depart- 
ment in  which  apprentices  are  employed  is  the  "spimiing- 
roorn."  Here  Willie,  if  he  succeeded  in  his  efforts  to  be- 
come one  of  the  Messrs.  Titl'any's  apprentices,  would  be 
tanulit  to  "spin"  a  disk  of  silver  into  the  required  form 
shown  by  the  mould,  or  •'chuck."  which  comes  from  the 
designing-room.  This  lie  would  do  on  a  lathe,  forcing- the 
metal  into  tin' desired  form  by  certain  tools  especially  used 
for  that  purpose.  In  this  department  he  would,  in  time, 
be  taught  to  turn  silver  into  all  shapes;  but  he  would  he 
obliged  to  work  with  mathematical  exactness  from  the 
drawings  which  would  lie  given  him. 

The  next  department  is  where  the  silversmiths  proper 
work,  those  who  put  together  tin  tlill'erent  pieces  that  go 
to  make  up  the  entire  article.  There  all  the  finishing  work 
is  done,  the  art  id  !•  going  from  one  department  to  the  other 
in  course  of  construction,  but  ret  n  ruing  to  the  silversmiths 
from  time  to  time  for  the  work  of  sold'Ti  ng.  joining  on  of 
different  pieces,  mid  such  labor  as  that. 

Then  comes  the  finishing  department, where,  after  the 

ware  has  been  completed,  it  is  bull'ed,  or  nibbed  smooth, 
polished,  and  in  every  way  made  ready  for  sale  in  1  he  store. 
Tb.-  QOSrl  department  in  point  of  importance  is  \\  here 
the  dies  or  patterns  for  the  wares  are  made,  tin-  work  be 
ing  done  in  steel  according  to  the  designs  sent  from  the 
artists.  Equal  in  importance  is  the  moulding  department, 

when-  from  brass  patterns  a  mould  of  sand  is  made,  leav- 
ing a  recess  in  which  the  molten  silver  is  poured,  much  as 
boys  mould  objects  in  lead. 

Tin-  engraving  department  is  one  when'  only  boys  with 
an  aptitude  for  drawing  can  be  emplo\  ed.       There  the  pat 
terns  of  vines,  leaves,  or  figures  are  cut    in   the  metal,  let 
ters  or  monograms   engraved,  and    all    such   artistic   work 


Tin-  opi 'ration  of  embossing  or  "snarling,"  as  it  is  tech- 
nically called,  requires  as  much  if  not  more  skill  than  the 
engraving,  for  in  that  case  the  design  is  raised  on  the 
metal,  instead  of  being  cut  in.  and  this  is  done  by  striking 
oil  one  end  of  a  tool,  the  vibration  at  the  other  end  strik- 
ing against  the  inside  of  the  vessel  into  which  it  has  been 
introduced  and  held  in  position  by  the  workman's  hand. 
There  are  departments  where  etching  is  done,  others  where 
the  ware  is  enamelled,  and,  in  fact,  one-  I'm1  each  particular 
branch  of  the  business;  but  over  them  all  are  the  design- 
ers, those  who  originate  shapes  and  Styles,  drawing  them 
carefully  on  paper  for  the  others  to  work  by.  The  design 
ers  arc  the  most  important  of  all  the  workmen,  since1  from 
them  come  all  the  ideas,  and  Willie  should  strive  to  reach 
that  department,  for  no  boy  should  give  up  lr\  ing  to  excel 
all  others  in  whatever  he  does. 

Now  if  a  boy  has  but  little  taste  for  drawing,  or,  having 
such  a.  taste,  has  cultivated  it  but  little,  he  is  set  at  \\ork 
in  such  department  as  he  seems  best,  fitted  for,  from  where 
the  road  to  the  designing-room  is  ever  open  to  him,  in- 
dustry and  close  application  being  the  only  aids  he  needs 
to  enable  him  to  reach  it. 

If  Willie  can  show  that  his  character  as  a  boy  is  good, 
that  he  has  no  bad  habits  or  evil-disposed  companions,  if 
he  shows  any  aptitude  for  the  trade,  and  seems  anxious 
to  learn,  the  Messrs.  Tiffany  will  give  him  an  opportunity 
to  go  to  work  in  their  factory  for  two  months,  during 
•which  time  his  employers  have  an  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing what  kind  of  a  boy  he  is,  and  he  can  learn  whether 
the  work  pleases  him.  During  these  two  months  both 
employer  and  apprentice  are  on  trial,  and  the  latter  is 
paid  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  work  he  does. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  he  and  his  parents  will  be  asked 
to  meet  the  member  of  the  firm  who  is  in  charge  of  the 
manufactory,  and  then  will  come  the  question  as  to 
whether  he  is  willing  to  remain  with  the  firm  until  he  is 
twenty-one  years  of  age;  that  is,  of  course,  providing  his 
employers  are  pleased  with  him. 


If  he  is  willing  to  remain  until  he  has  become  a  man, 
it  being  conceded  that  be  may  have  learned  the  trade 
thoroughly  even  before  that  time,  an  agreement  is  drawn 
up  and  signed  by  Messrs.  Tiffany  &  Co..  Willie,  and  his 
parents,  whereby  it  is  agreed  that  he  shall  remain  as  an 
apprentice  in  the  factory  until  his  twenty-first  birthday. 
A  certain  amount  of  wages  is  fixed  upon,  and  this  is  in- 
creased each  year  until,  when  his  time  has  expired,  Willie 
is  earning  a  man's  wages.  This  agreement  does  not  bind 
him  as  the  old  forms  of  indenture  did  an  apprentice,  but 
leaves  him  free  to  go  at  any  time,  for  a  boy  who  has  no 
pride  or  interest  in  his  work  had  l>etter  be  out  of  any  shop 
rather  than  in  it. 

If  at  the  expiration  of  the  two  months  of  probation 
Willie  is  not  quite  decided  as  to  whether  he  prefers  the 
trade  of  silversmith  to  that  of  any  other,  he  is  allowed 
more  time  in  \\hich  to  make  up  his  mind,  the  idea  being 
that  he  shall  be  thoroughly  content  with  it  before  he 
agrees  to  remain. 

After  he  has  been  apprenticed,  Willie's  desire  will  prob- 
abl\  be  the  same  as  that  of  his  employers — that  he  shall 
advance  toward  the-  designing  room  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
since  that  is  the  fountain  head  of  the  trade.  To  this  end 
he  is  aided  in  every  way.  A  valuable  and  extensive  libra- 
ry, where  he  can  study  the  methods  used  by  the  gold- 
smiths in  the  olden  as  well  as  the  present  time,  is  open  to 
him.  and  he  can  also  examine  models  or  drawings  of  all 
notable  works  in  gold  anil  silver  that  have  ever  been  done 
by  the  masters  ol  the  craft.  In  fact,  it  is  necessar\  for 
him  to  study  his  trade  in  his  leisure  as  well  as  in  his 
working  hours,  and  his  employers  give  him  everv  oppor 
tunity.  for  it  is  of  quite  as  much  interest  and  profit  to 
them  that  he  should  become  a  good  workman  as  it  is  to 
him. 

He.  in  common  with  a  hundred  and  twenty-live  other 
ho\s.  begin  \\ork  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  ending 
at  half  past  live  at  night,  with  half  an  hour  for  dinner, 
and  a  half-holiday  on  Saturday.  Kadi  week  that  he 
works  the  full  number  of  hours,  and  has  done  what  he 
has  been  set  to  do  faithfully,  he  receives  from  the  fore- 
man of  his  department  an  order  on  the  cashier  for  one 
dollar,  which  is  given  to  him  in  addition  to  his  regular 
u  ages  as  a  reward  for  punctuality  and  industry. 

A  I  ler  a  boy  has  served  his  I  ime  as  apprentice  he  can  til 
irni/x  have  work  from  the  Messrs.  Tilfany.  or  if  he  leaves 
tin1  factory  thinking  to  better  his  condition  elsewhere,  he 
canal\\a\s  return  to  it  with  a  certainty  of  being  employ- 
ed, so  long  as  his  record  is  good,  the  policy  of  the  house 
being  to  give  employment  to  those  whom  they  have  edu 
caled  in  the  business,  in  preference  to  any  one  else. 

Of  course  each  apprentice  is  obliged  to  do  his  full  share 
of  work,  and  hard  work,  for  it  is  only  by  industry  that 
any  one  can  rise  in  life,  and  it  is  only  those  who  are  anx- 
ious to  become  artists  in  their  work,  even  at  the  expense  of 
considerable  labor,  that  any  such  house  wants. 

To  learn  a  trade  is  by  no  means  play,  but  labor  and  per- 
severance; and  the  boy  who  is  not  willing  to  do  his  best  to 
excel  had  better  make  up  his  mind  to  earn  his  livelihood  by 
the  simplest  of  manual  labor.  But  he  is  wise  who  per- 
fects himself  early  in  life  in  some  trade  where  skilled  la- 
bor is  always  in  demand,  for  by  so  doing  be  provides  for 
himself  constant  employment ;  and  whatever  position  he 
may  occupy,  he  can  never  regret  the  time  nor  labor  ex- 
pended in  thus  making  himself  in  a  measure  independent, 
whatever  changes  may  befall  him. 

The  experience  of  the  house  referred  to  in  establishing 
what  is  really  a  training-school  wherein  boys  may  lear,. 
to  provide  for  themselves  has  been  a  pleasant  one. 

"Ten  years  ago,"  said  the  gentleman  who  was  giving 
the  writer  the  above  information,  "we  had  very  few  ap- 
plications for  the  position  of  apprentice  from  boys  who 
had  received  even  fairly  good  educations,  so  great  was  the 
prejudice  against  learning  a  trade  which  existed  in  the 


136 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


PREPARING    THE    DESIGNS. 

minds  of  the  people  in  tins  country.  Now,  however,  a 
decided  reaction  has  taken  place,  and  among1  our  ap- 
prentices maybe  found  the  sons  of  men  who  occupy  good 
positions  in  society.  Constantly  striving  as  we  are  for 
artistic  work  in  the  greatest  variety,  we  naturally  desire 
the  brightest  and  most  intelligent  boys,  who  may  have  the 
benefit  of  everything  which  money  can  purchase  to  enable 
them  to  rise  in  the  business." 

Willie,  or  any  other  boy  who  desires  to  make  himself 
useful  in  the  world,  can  readily  see  from  this  that  even  if 
there  was  no  other  reason  for  it,  whatever  trade  he  may 
decide  to  learn,  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  first  attend 
faithfully  to  his  studies,  unless  he  is  willing  never  to  rise 
above  the  common  class  of  workers. 

"Whatever  is  worth  being  doiie  at  all  is  worth  being 
done  well''  is  an  old  maxim  that  is  worthy  of  repetition, 
and  the  best  foundation  for  a  good  trade  is  a  good  educa- 


'  SNARLING.1 


FITTING    STAXD    TO    SILVER   BOWL. 

tion.  But  also  remember  that  a  boy's  reputation  for  hon- 
esty, morality,  and  industry  is  quite  as  valuable  to  him  as 
is  a  business  man's,  for  it  is  that  which  is  first  inquired 
about  when  he  applies  for  the  situation  of  apprentice. 

Whatever  occupation  in  life  you  intend  to  choose,  boys, 
lay  the  foundation  for  a  successful  following  of  it  noiv,  and 
that  once  done,  the  rest  will  be  comparatively  easy. 


CHASING    SILVER. 


tf^A       m 

.   - 


THE    TOY-SHOP    WINDOWS.— [SEE  PAGE  131.] 


138 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  BRAND-NEW  YEAR. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

THERE  were  so  many  of  them! — Tommy  and  Aleck, 
Jack  and  Jill  (Jill's  name  was  really  Geraldine,  but 
everybody  called  ber  Jill  because  she  and  Jack  were 
twins,  and  always  together),  Becky  and  Tacldy,  and  little 
Sam  and  the  baby,  to  say  nothing  of  George  Washington 
Lafayette  Robert  Lee  Lincoln,  Aunt  Patra's  boy,  who 
when  it  came  to  mischief  was  the  equal  of  all  the  white 
•children  put  together. 

Once  it  had  been  only  a  cause  of  rejoicing  that  they 
were  so  many;  they  could  have  no  end  of  fun  by  them- 
selves, and  they  were  so  sorry  for  the  little  Fergusons, 
who  were  only  two,  and  could  play  hardly  any  rousing 
game  at  home  of  a  rainy  day ;  and  as  for  Thanny  Thorpe, 
who  had  not  one  single  brother  or  sister,  he  always  made 
them  think  of  the  poor  giant  Pewobbet,  who  was  shut  up 
in  an  iron  tower,  and  wept  so  for  loneliness  that  he  trick- 
led all  away. 

But,  oh  dear !  everything  was  sadly  changed  now. 

Papa  had  lost  all  his  money,  and  they  had  been  obliged 
to  leave  their  beautiful  home  in  the  South,  and  come  away 
off  to  this  little  New  England  town,  where  a  house  and 
some  laud  had  been  left  them  by  a  relative,  and  then  pupa 
had  died  suddenly,  and  they  were  left  alone  among  stran- 
gers, and  with  hardly  any  money. 

Mamma  tried  to  keep  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes,  and  taught 
music,  and  sewed  for  people,  working  sometimes  far  into 
the  night,  and  doing  her  very  best  to  earn  money  enough 
to  make  them  all  comfortable.  But  there  was  a  mortgage 
on  the  house,  and  the  interest  had  to  be  paid  very  often, 
and  there  were  so  many  of  them  !  And  there  was  ' '  that 
boy  Linkum."  That  was  what  his  old  mammy  always 
called  him,  and  they  had  all  fallen  into  the  same  habit. 

Linkum  wore  out  two  pairs  of  shoes  to  the  other  chil- 
dren's one,  and  his  knees  and  elbows  seemed  to  have  such 
a  fondness  for  the  open  air  that  they  would  make  their 
way  through  the  thickest  cloth  in  less  than  a  fortnight. 

And  Linkum's  bump  of  destructiveness  was  developed 
to  an  alarming  extent.  He  could  not  be  trusted  to  take 
anything  into  his  hands  that  could  by  any  possibility  be 
broken,  and  he  declared  himself  that  if  he  looked  at  a  dish 
it  "done  fell  over  and  split  open." 

In  the  bottom  of  her  heart  Aunt  Patra  was  very 
fond  of  Linkum,  but  she  was  always  saying  that  "dere 
was  euuf  moufs  to  feed  widout  dat  lazy  nigger's,  an'  it 
was  high  time  dat  he  done  went  off  an'  earned  his  own 
libinV 

It  made  all  the  children  very  sad  to  hear  Aunt  Patra 
say  that,  for  in  spite  of  his  pranks  they  had  a  great  affec- 
tion for  Linkum.  He  was  devoted  to  them,  and  always 
.so  good-natured  and  merry  you  must  be  feeling  very  bad- 
ly indeed  if  Linkum  couldn't  cheer  you  up.  When  mam- 
ma was  so  pale  and  tired  that  it  would  make  one's  heart 
ache  to  look  at  her,  she  would  laugh,  just  as  she  used  to 
do,  at  some  of  Linkum's  droll  sayings.  And  it  made  her 
feel  as  badly  as  the  children  to  think  of  letting  Linkum  go 
away,  especially  as  she  was  afraid  he  might  not  find  peo- 
ple who  would  bear  with  his  troublesome  pranks.  But 
one  day  she  said  she  was  afraid  he  would  have  to  go. 
She  had  lost  two  of  her  music  scholars,  and  her  eyes  were 
beginning  to  trouble  her  so  that  she  was  afraid  she  should 
not  be  able  to  sew  much  longer,  and  the  interest  on  the 
mortgage  was  overdue.  And  a  man  over  in  Lancaster 
wanted  to  hire  Linkum  to  cut  wood. 

It  was  the  last  day  of  the  year,  and  things  did  seem 
very  sad.  Christmas  had  not  been  in  the  least  like  any 
Christmas  that  the  children  had  ever  known.  It  did 
seem  a  little  too  bad  that  Santa  Glaus  should  turn  the 
cold  shoulder  upon  one  because  one  was  poor.  And  now, 
with  all  the  rest  of  their  troubles,  they  must  part  with 
Linkum — poor  Linkum,  who  doubled  himself  up  as  if  he 


were  in  pain  at  the  mere  mention  of  his  going,  and  uttered 
most  melancholy  howls. 

Tommy,  who  was  the  oldest,  and  felt  himself  to  be  the 
man  of  the  family,  although  he  was  only  twelve,  shared 
his  mother's  confidence,  and  realized  what  sore  straits 
they  were  in.  He  agreed  with  his  mother  that  since 
there  was  nobody  in  the  neighborhood  who  wanted  to  hire 
Linkum,  he  must  go,  although  it  seemed  almost  too  hard 
to  be  endured. 

"  Well,  to-morrow  is  New- Year's  Day:  perhaps  some- 
thing very  nice  will  happen,"  said  Jill.  Jill  read  fairy 
stories,  and  was  always  expecting  things  to  happen  just 
as  they  did  in  the  stories. 

"Sometimes  things  go  on  happening  just  the  same,  if  it 
is  a  new  year,"  said  Aleck.  "I  wish  this  would  be  a 
brand-new  year!" 

It  did  seem  very  sad  that  Linkum  should  have  to  go  on 
New- Year's  Day,  but  the  man  who  wanted  to  hire  him 
came  for  him,  and  they  all  resolved  to  put  a  brave  face 
on  the  matter,  for  it  never  would  do  to  begin  the  new  year 
with  tears,  and  besides,  their  tears  gave  renewed  impetus 
to  Linkum's  bowlings,  which  were  really  frightful  to 
hear,  and  caused  his  new  employer  to  inquire  if  he  wasn't 
subject  to  cramp  in  the  stomach. 

At  the  very  last  Tommy  took  Linkum  behind  the  shed 
door  for  a  little  private  interview. 

What  was  said  there  nobody  knew,  but  when  he 
emerged  from  the  retirement  the  cramp  in  Linkum's 
stomach  seemed  greatly  improved,  and  he  responded  with 
a  faint  semblance  of  one  of  his  customary  grins  to  the 
good-byes  showered  upon  him. 

Tommy  took  his  way  to  his  daily  work  with  a  resolve 
to  ask  Mr.  Savage,  the  lawyer,  whose  office-boy  lie  was, 
to  raise  his  wages.  But  when  he  opened  the  office  door 
there  was  a  strange  young  man  at  the  desk,  and  Mr.  Savage 
was  occupied  with  several  gentlemen.  He  turned  his  head 
to  say,  carelessly,  to  Tommy : 

"I  sha'ii't  have  any  further  need  of  your  services,  as 
this  young  man,  who  is  to  study  with  me,  will  attend  to 
your  duties.  I  believe  there  is  a  small  sum  due  you,  and 
if  von  will  call  some  time  when  I  am  not  busy  I'll  give  it 
to  you." 

Poor  Tommy!  he  left  the  office  without  a  word,  his 
hopes  all  crushed.  There  were  very  few  chances  for  a  boy 
like  him  to  get  work  in  the  town.  He  might  have  to  go 
away  as  Linkum  hud  done,  and  that  would  break  his  mo- 
ther's heart. 

It  was  just  possible  that  there  might  be  some  work  that 
he  could  do  at  the  iron-mills ;  a  few  odd  jobs  would  be  bet- 
ter than  nothing. 

Mr.  Forbes,  the  superintendent,  was  always  busy,  and  a 
man  of  few  words.  Tommy  dreaded  to  go  to  his  office, 
because  he  held  the  mortgage  on  their  house,  and  he  might 
say  something  about  the  unpaid  interest;  but  as  it  was  the 
only  chance  for  work  that  there  seemed  to  be,  he  sum- 
moned all  his  courage,  and  knocked  at  his  office  door. 

"Want  a  boy?"  said  Mr.  Forbes.  "Well,  if  we  do, 
there  are  plenty  of  big  ones  in  the  world,  so  we  needn't 
take  up  with  a  little  chap  like  you.''  But  there  was  a 
pleasant  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  so  Tommy  didn't  mind  that 
his  words  were  not  very  polite. 

"You're  Tommy  Woodford,  are  you  ?"  continued  Mr. 
Forbes.  "Well,  we  do  need  an  office-boy,  but  I  was 
thinking  of  having  one  older  than  you,  who  could  help 
the  clerk  with  his  accounts  sometimes.  Are  you  quick  at 
figures  ?" 

"I  am  not  so  very  slow,  sir,"  he  said,  modestly.  "You 
might  try  me." 

"Well,  that  is  not  a  bad  suggestion,"  said  Mr.  Forbes, 
who  was  looking  him  over  carefully  all  the  time.  "You 
may  come  to-morrow  morning,  and  I  will  try  you."  Tom- 
my flew  home  as  if  he  had  wings,  and  told  the  good  news. 

He  found   that  there  was  hard  work  in  the  office  of 


I.VM'ARY  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


139 


the  Iron  Company,  and  the  clerk  was  not  so  pleasant  as 
Mr.  Forbes;  and  when  he  found  that  Tommy  was  both 
quick  and  exact  at  figures,  he  left  work  for  him  to  do  that 
did  not  rightfully  belong  to  his  share,  and  he  sometimes 
went  away  when  lie  ought  not  to  go,  and  left  Tommy  in 
sole  charge  of  the  office. 

But  Tommy  was  determined  that  nothing:  should  daunt 
him,  and  he  never  complained,  and  Mr.  Forbes's  attention 
was  attracted  from  what  was  going  on  in  the  office  by 
disturbances  in  the  mills,  owing  to  the  dissatisfaction  of 
the  men  and  their  threatening  to  strike  for  higher  wages. 
One  night,  at  the  end  of  Tommy's  second  week  at  the 
mills,  the  clerk,  who  had  been  absent  for  half  the  after- 
noon, failed  to  return  at  six  o'clock,  the  usual  time  for 
closing  the  office.  Tommy  had  no  authority  to  close  it. 
and  as  Mr.  Forbes  had  gone  to  a  distant  town  to  secure  a 
new  corps  of  men  in  case  there  should  be  a  strike.  Tommy 
had  no  alternative  but  to  wait  until  the  clerk  returned. 

Night  had  closed  in  before  six  o'clock,  and  a  storm  was 
threatening,  and  Tommy  thought  of  his  long,  cold  walk. 
and  longed  for  the  home  fireside,  and  the  cakes  that  Aunt 
Patra  loved  to  keep  hot  for  him.  Then  he  rememln TI •<! 
that  some  of  the  next  day's  work  might  be  done  while  he 
was  waiting.  But  just  as  he  sat  down  at  the  desk  and 
opened' the  account-book  the  door  was  suddenly  thrown 
open. 

Tommy  arose  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  but  when  he  turned, 
instead  of  the  clerk  whom  he  expected  to  see.  two  rough- 
looking  men  stood  before  him.      One  of  them  turned  the 
key.      Tommy   was  sure  that  they   were  mill    hands,  al 
though  he  could  not  see  their  faces. 

"  All  we  want  of  you,  youngster,  is  the  key  of  the  safe." 
said  one  of  them. 

How  they  knew  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
whereabouts  of  the  key  of  the  safe  Tommy  wondered,  the 
natural  supposition  being  that  Mr.  Forbes  carried  it  about 
his  person,  as  indeed  he  habitually  did;  but  from  the  fact 
that  some  valuable  papers  which  were  kept  in  the  safe 
were  being  copied  by  the  clerk  and  Tommy,  the  key  was 
deposited  in  a  little  secret  drawer  in  Mr.  Forbes's  desk. 

"What  right  have  you  to  ask  for  the  safe  key:"  de- 
manded Tommy.  He  was  conscious  of  a  little  inward 
quaking,  but  his  tone  was  firm. 

"We  don't  mean  to  waste  words  with  you,"  said  one  of 
the  men.  "We'll  trouble  you  to  tell  us  where  that  key 
is,  or — ''  and  he  drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket,  and  laid  it 
down  where  Tommy  could  see  it. 

Tommy  remembered  that  he  was  alone  in  the  building, 
everybody  leaving  at  six  o'clock,  therefore  to  call  for  help 
would  be  useless;  but  even  while  he  thought  of  it  one  of 
the  men  thrust  a  gag  into  his  mouth,  while  the  other  tight- 
ly pinioned  his  arms. 

"  We'll  try  our  luck  at  finding  it,  and  if  we  can't  do  that 
"we'll  make  him  tell, "said  one  of  them,  with  a  fierce  oath. 

The  gag  choked  him  almost  to  suffocation,  and  the 
ropes  cut  his  arms  so  that  the  pain  was  almost  unendur- 
able. Footsteps  sounded  in  the  corridor,  and  some  one 
tried  the  door.  Oh,  if  he  could  only  cry  out ! 

As  the  footsteps  died  away,  it  seemed  to  Tommy  as  if  all 
his  hopes  of  seeing  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  and  home  went 
witli  them.  But  a  sentence  from  one  of  Jill's  old  stories 
kept  repeating  itself  in  his  mind:  "so  Sir  Cuthbert  did 
his  duty  as  a  true  knight,  knowing  that  God  had  created 
him  for  nothing  less." 

Sir  Cuthbert  fought  dragons,  and  serpents  with  innu- 
•merable  heads,  and  ferocious  wolves.  Tommy  wondered, 
vaguely,  in  the  midst  of  his  pain,  whether  S'ir  Cuthbert 
•ever  got  home  to  his  mother;  he  didn't  remember  to  have 
heard  the  end  of  the  story. 

The  men  were  growing  fiercely  angry  that  they  could 
not  find  the  key,  and  one  was  blaming  the  other  that 
they  had  not  tools  with  which  to  break  open  the  safe. 
Tommy  knew  that  they  would  waste  no  more  time,  but 


would  force  him  to  tell  now,  if  they  could.  Something 
very  like  despair  came  over  him,  when,  suddenly  pressed 
against  a  window-pane,  he  saw  a  face — a  black  face,  sur- 
mounted by  a  woolly  top-knot — Linkum's  face! 

It  seemed  to  Tommy  that  he  must  have  died  and  gone 
to  heaven  when  he  saw  that  face.  But  it  was  only  the 
beginning  of  a  merciful  unconsciousness. 

There  was  a  crash  as  if  the  whole  world  had  tumbled  to 
pieces,  and  when  Tommy  opened  his  eyes  it  was  upon  Lin- 
kum's face  close  beside  his,  some  officers  putting  hand- 
cuffs upon  the  men,  and  a  crowd  of  people  pouring  into 
the  office. 

"You  'member  what  you  done  tole  me  behind  de  shed 
door  i"  Linkum  was  explaining.  ' '  How  if  dis  yere  nigger 
was  dat  homesick  he  couldn't  stand  it  nohow,  to  done 
fotch  hisself  home,  an'  you  wouldn't  eat  a  bit  but  what 
he  done  had  his  share  ob  *  Dis  nigger  was  dat  miserable 
homesick  he  (ought  for  sure  he'd  die.  an'  he  done  come 
home.  He  look  all  roun'  de  winders  ob  de  house  an' 
couldn't  see  nutfin'  ob  yer,  an'  he  hear  'em  say  might  v 
quar  yer  done  stay  so  late,  an'  he  come  to  de  office,  an' 
he  see  light  an'  hear  voices,  but  couldn't  get  in,  an'  it 
seem  mighty  quar.  so  he  done  climb  up  de  spout,  an'  look 
in  de  winder.'  Itidn't  take  him  long  to  fotch  a  ossifer  an' 
break  in  dat  do' !" 

So  the  safe,  which  contained  a  great  deal  of  money,  as 
well  as  valuable  papers,  was  untouched,  and  Tommy  was 
(he  hero  of  the  hour.  Everybody  was  crowding  around 
to  have  the  privilege  of  shaking  hands  with  him.  And 
Linkum  was  not  without  his  share  of  praise. 

But  the  best  is  yet  to  tell.  Mr.  Forbes  made  Tommy  a 
present  of  the  mortgage  deed  cancelled.  He  said  Tommy 
had  saved  him  a  great  deal  more  than  that,  and  it  was 
only  his  due.  He  also  raised  his  salary,  for  he  said  the 
company  could  afford  to  pay  for  such  services  as  his.  And 
he  gave  Linkum  a  sil  nation  in  the  mills,  so  he  didn't  have 
to  go  away  again.  Aleck  said  "it  really  was  a  brand- 
new  year:" 

PERIL  AND  PRIVATION. 

BY  JAMES  PAYN. 


A    CASTAWAY    A  M  IS  ASS  A  DOE. 
II. 

VT  this  terrible  crisis — for,  left  to  themselves,  these  pool- 
Easterns  were  almost  as  helpless  as  children,  and 
were  conscious  of  the  fact — the  second  ambassador  called 
his  people  round  him.  and  addressed  them  with  a  courage 
and  charity  such  as  would  have  done  honor  to  an  apostle 
of  the  holiest  creed : 

' '  Faithful  Siamese,  though  all  was  lost  by  our  shipwreck, 
we  had  still  some  consolation ....  While  the  Portuguese 
remained,  they  were  our  guides,  and  in  some  sort  our  pro- 
tection. .  .  .and  I  would  fain  persuade  myself  that  urgent 
reasons  alone  can  have  induced  them  to  leave  us.  Were 
not  we  ourselves  constrained  to  forsake  our  first  ambassa- 
dor amidst  a  frightful  desert,  though  with  the  full  design  of 
procuring  him  aid  when  it  should  lie  in  our  power  ?  The 
conduct  of  the  Portuguese  may  not  perhaps  be  less  laudable. 
At  all  events,  it  will  not  avert  the  evils  with  which  we  are 
menaced  to  bewail  their  insincerity  and  want  of  faith." 

No  Christian  sermon,  to  my  mind,  had  ever  more  chari- 
ty and  good  sense  in  it  than  this.  The  latter  part  of  his 
speech,  though  it  does  not  recommend  itself  to  our  intel- 
ligence, is  even  more  characteristic,  and  breathes  a  spirit 
of  exalted  loyalty  which  would  be  chivalrous  indeed  were 
the  object  of  it  a  worthy  one.  The  King  of  Siam  was  a 
potentate,  it  seems,  so  sacred  that  no  one  was  allowed  to 
mention  his  name,  but  in  this  supreme  hour  his  faithful 
servant  thus  ventures  to  allude  to  him  . 

"Perhaps,"  he  says,  "in  requital  of  the  transcendent 
merits  of  our  great  King,  Providence  will  not  allow  us  to 
remain  destitute  of  succor;  and  without  further  delibera- 


140 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


:" 

_-«1J?  '•'9*'  ~          -^SB 


"THEY    CAME    UPON    ONE    OF    THE    INTERPRETERS    LYING    DEAD.' 


tion  we  ought  to  follow  the  coast,  according1  to  our  pre- 
vious determination ....  One  thing  more.  You  have  wit- 
nessed my  invariable  respect  for  the  dispatches  of  the  King, 
my  master.  My  first,  or  rather  my  sole,  anxiety  during 
our  shipwreck  was  for  their  safety.  When  encamped  on 
mountains,  I  have  always  placed  them  still  higher,  and 
always  above  the  rest  of  our  body,  and  myself  withdraw- 
ing lower,  guarded  them  at  a  respectful  distance:  and  in 
the  plains,  they  were  affixed  to  the  top  of  the  highest  plants 
I  could  attain.  During  this  journey  they  have  been  borne 
by  myself,  and  never  intrusted  to  others,  until  I  was  un- 
able to  drag  my  limbs  along.  Now.  in  our  present  uncer- 
tainty, should  I  not  be  able  to  follow  you  long,  I  enjoin 
tin'  third  ambassador  [our  Occum],  in  the  name  of  our 

great  King,  to  act  precisely  as  I  have  done But  should 

i't  be  fated  that  none  of  us  reach  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
he  to  whom  they  shall  be  at  last  intrusted  must  lay  them, 
if  possible,  on  some  eminence,  so  that  they  may  not  be  ex- 
posed to  insult,  and  then  he  may  die  before  them,  testify- 
ing as  much  respect  in  death  as  he  was  bound  to  show 
during  life.  Such  is  what  I  recommend." 

From  this  date  poor  Occum  Chamnam's  miseries  be- 
came almost  intolerable  ;  his  whole  body  began  to  swell, 
attended  with  dreadful  pains.  "Without  actual  experi- 
ence," he  observes,  with  touching  simplicity,  "I  could  not 
have  believed  in  the  power  of  the  human  frame  to  resist  so 
long  such  an  accumulation  of  evils;"  and  yet  in  propor- 
tion to  their  extremity  so,  strangely  enough,  did  his  anx- 
iety to  prolong  his  life  increase.  All  that  remained  to 
them  of  solid  hope  was  in  regaining  the  Portuguese,  and 
when,  now  and  then,  they  came  upon  some  traces  of  their 
course  their  hearts  revived  within  them.  Once  they  found 
a  pouch  of  powder,  with  which  they  kindled  a  fire,  and 
Occum  broiled  his  shoes,  which  had  long  become  useless 
to  him  through  the  swelling  of  his  feet. 

"We  cut  them  to  pieces,  and  eat  them  with  great  avid- 
ity ....  We  tried  the  same  with  the  cap  of  one  of  our  at- 


tendants, but  it  was  so  tough  that  we  had  to  reduce  the 
pieces  almost  to  a  cinder,  and  then  they  were  so  bitter  and 
disgusting  that,  in  spite  of  our  famished  condition,  our 
stomachs  refused  to  receive  them."  Presently  they  came 
upon  one  of  the  interpreters  lying  dead.  "Since  his  limbs 
were  contracted  together,  though  on  a  spot  abounding  with 
herbs,  we  judged  that  he  had  died  of  cold."  This  sight 
was  not  unwelcome,  since  it  showed  that  they  were  on  the 
right  track;  and  "since  it  was  a  charming  spot,  covered 
with  verdure,  we  halted,  and  each  laid  in  a  stock  of  pala- 
table leaves." 

This  relief,  however,  was  but  temporary,  and  the  con- 
dition to  which  they  were  reduced  may  be  conceived  from 
the  fact  that,  proud  as  they  were  by  race  and  nature,  they 
at  last  resolved  to  sell  themselves  to  the  Hottentots  as 
slaves.  "Surely," says  the  unhappy  Occum,  "our  wretch- 
edness must  have  been  intense  since  we  were  willing  to 
become  subject  to  a  people  the  most  abject,  vile,  and  beast- 
ly under  the  sun,  and  whom  we  should  be  reluctant  to  re- 
ceive into  our  homes  even  in  a  menial  capacity."  Nay, 
such  was  their  extremity  that  they  actually  resolved  to  "•<> 
back  to  the  peninsula  where  mussels  were  plentiful,  and 
reached  it  in  three  days,  with  the  ardor  of  exiles  seeking 
some  promised  land. 

Unhappily,  though  they  got  their  mussels,  they  could 
get  no  fire-wood  to  cook  them  with,  while  the  intense  cold 
at  night  paralyzed  all  their  energies.  On  the  fifth  day 
they  again  started  on  their  weary  journey,  and  after  ter- 
rible privations  came  on  some  Hottentots  who  had  inter- 
course with  the  Dutch  settlements,  and  undertook  to  guide 
them  thither.  Many  of  the  poor  Siamese  had  to  be  left 
behind, -with  a  store  of  dried  mussels  to  support  them; 
the  rest  followed  their  guides  for  six  terrible  days,  dur- 
ing which  time  their  chief  food  was  certain  large  black 
beetles. 

On  the  thirty-first  day  after  the  shipwreck  they  met 
with  some  Dutch  settlers,  who  brought,  them  bread,  meat, 


JANUARY  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


141 


and  wine.     ••  ( hir  acknowledgments  were  boundless. 
threw  ourselves  at  the  knees  of  our  preservers.      For  my 

own   part,  my  gratitude  \v;is   lieyond   all   bounds.      When 

tin-  lirst  ambassador  hail  ordered  us  to  leave  him, he  gave 

us  s jewels  which  had  been  presented  by  the  Kin::  Our 

master  in  lie  bestoued  iii  presents.  I  received  live  large 
diamonds  set  in  rings  of  {fold,  one  of  which  I  presented  to 
each  of  the  Dutchmen  as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  re- 

neu.-il  of  my  life." 

\Yhat   seems  very   strange,  the  survivors  of  the  Portu- 
guese party,  who  arrived  at  the  settlement   eight  day-  In- 
fore  them,  seem  to  have   MilVered   even   worse  privations 
than  the  Siamese.      A  monk  of  St.  Augustine,  who  was  of 
the  party,  drew  tears  from  <  Iccum's  eyes  by  I  he  recital  of 
them.      "  \Ve  should  have  i.i-eii  as  relentless  as  tigers,''  he 
says,  "not   to   have   melt- 
ed at  the  cries  and  groans 
of  those  who  dropped  by 
the  way,  overcome  by   ihe 
torments  of  li linger,  thirst. 
and     fatigue.       They     im- 
plored ourassistaiice  :  they 
conjured  us  to   procure  a 
drop  of  water.      Kver\   one 

Seemed    insensible    t.l    their 

sufferings,   and    to    avoid 


his  son,  who  seemed  more  distressed  at  the  other's  grief 
than  at  his  own  sufferings.  He  entreated  the  others,  in 
the  most  impressive  manner,  to  carry  his  father  away 
with  them,  whose  presence  only  augmented  his  miseries. 
The  priests  endeavored  in  vain  to  represent  to  the  captain 
the  sinfulness  of  thus  endangering  his  own  life  by  useless 
delay,  and  at  length  he  was  removed  by  force."  The  vio- 
lence of  his  grief,  however,  continued  without  abatement, 
and  though  he  reached  the  settlement,  he  died  of  a  broken 
heart  on  the  second  day. 

Occuni  Chamiiam  himself  lived  to  return  to  Siani,  and 
behold  the  gracious  countenance   of  the   so\creign   whom 

nobody  was  allowed  to  name ;  and,  \\hat  is  very  creditable 

to  him  after  such  an  experience,  he  actually  tempted  the 
sea  again  as  ambassador  to  the  court  of  France. 


the  semblance  of  cruelly, 
when  we  saw  them  fall, 
which  happened  frequent 
ly,  we  exhorted  them  to 
recommend  their  souls  to 
<  lod.and  then.u  ithout  fur- 
ther remark-,  turned  a\\a\  . 
stopping  our  ears  lha'  u  e 
might  hear  the  groans  of 
the  dying  no  longer." 

One  incident  in  thai  ter- 
rible journey  stands  out 
aboveall  others,  and  seems 
to  have  all'ected  all  wit- 
nesses, however  wretch- 
ed in  their  own  circum- 
stances, with  its  horror 
and  pathos.  The  captain 
of  the  ship,  a  man  of  high 
rank  and  station,  had  car- 
ried out.  bis  only  son  with 
him  to  India,  that  he 
might  make  an  early  ac- 
quaintance with  life  at 
sea.  He  watched  over  the 
hoy's  safety  during  the 
shipwreck,  and  since  his 
strength  soon  failed  him, 
caused  him  to  be  carried 
during  the  march  by  his 
slaves.  But  when  these 
grew  too  weak  to  bear 
him,  the  youth  was  re- 
duced to  such  a  state  of 
feebleness  that  he  lay 
down  to  die. 

"His  limbs  were  stiff 
and  swollen,  and  he  lay 
stretched  at  all  his  length 
unable  to  bend  a  joint. 
The  unfortunate  captain, 
was  driven  to  despair. 
Lifting  the  poor  lad  on  his 
shoulders,  he  tried  to  car- 
ry him,  but  could  make 
but  a  single  step,  when 
he  fell  to  the  ground  with 


WATCHING. 

"\VATCIIIM:  for  somebody,  wide  brown 

eye-. 

Wailing  to  gi\v  him  a   rare  surprise'.' 
oh,  i-  ii   father,  wln>-<-  hor-e'-  feel 
Fall  in  the  distance  smooth  and  licet — 

Father,  \\lm-e   heart    for  many  a  mile 
Forward  has  leaped  to  the  deal  old  stile. 

Oh.   how    they'll    kiss    him,   and    hold 

him   la-t, 
Whe.i   lather  i-   home  \\itli  his  bairns 

at   la-l  ' 

"lli-i'"  c-ries  -i-ter  to   llahy  Will; 
"  l,i-ten.  ilarling  '    lie   mount-  the   hill. 
Oh,  hou   N-lim   tlii--  over  tin'  ground! 
JXVarer    and     nearer     the     hooi     beat  - 
sound." 

Flower-    for   father,  ,-uid    look,   of  joy, 
.Sueeie-i      uord-    shall     their    tOUgues 

employ. 

Somebody 'scorning — the  dear,  the  \\i-e: 
iShinc    out    io    greel     him.    \ou    liright 
brown  e\  e-. 

M.  E.  SANGSTER 


l-i-2 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

CHKST.NLT  HILL,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

You  want  some  letters  to  tell  you  how  we  en- 
joyed our  Thanksgiving.  I  will  tell  you  first 
uhout  ourselves.  There  are  five  of  us.  My  little 
brother  Ned  takes  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  my  biff 
brother  uses  it  at  his  school  every  day  to  read 
in.  We  all  love  it.  Even  mamma  says  she  en- 

foys  it  in  the  evenings  when  she  is  alone  in  the 
ib'rary.  We  live  in  the  country,  and  we  had  a 
snowy  day  to  go  in  to  grandpa's.  I  had  a  good 
sleigh-ride  before  starting,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
fur  tin-  fun,  would  have  staid  home  and  had  an- 
other ride. 

We  had  a  jolly  dinner,  and  afterward  we  re- 
cited pieces,  sang  songs,  and  played  games  until 
we  were  tired  out.  I  do  not  know  which  laugh- 
ed the  most,  grandpa,  who  is  seventy,  or  my  little 
sister,  just  two  years  old,  when  we  played  "  doing 
to. Jerusalem"  and  "  Rachel  and  Jacob."  Oh!  they 
an-  funny  games.  Then  we  sang  "  Oh,  Susanna," 
and  papa  played  it  on  the  piano  for  us.  We  had 
to  sleep  with  a  good  many  in  every  rooin,  but  we 
did  not  care,  for  Thanksgiving  comes  so  seldom, 
und  we  were  very  thankful  this  ye;ir  to  think  our 
sister,  who  has  been  so  sick,  was  well  again,  and 
could  eat  turkey  and  ice-cream. 

If  you  like  my  letter  I  will  write  again,  for  I 
have  a  good  deal  to  tell  you  if  you  want  to  hear 
about  our  lovely  old  nursery,  our  cat  who  will 
not  stay  away  when  she  is  sent,  and  our  dogs.  I 
am  so  glad  we  have  such  a  big  family— there  is 
so  much  fun  in  the  house.  A.  C.  N. 

Now  having  told  us  about  Thanksgiving,  you 
must  send  a  postscript  and  tell  about  Christmas. 
Did  you  go  to  grandpa's  again? 


WINMI-KR,  MANITOBA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  came  up 
here  three  months  ago.  I  was  born  on  the  ot  ta- 
wa  River,  above  Montreal,  and  used  to  have  good 
times  there  fishing,  boating,  and  bathing.  It  took 
me.  four  days  to  come  here  from  Montreal.  There 
are  no  trees  up  here,  and  prairie  all  around.  The 
Ked  ami  Asslniboine  rivers  flow  p;ist  here,  and 
they  are  about  the  muddiest  streams  I  ever  saw. 
1 1:0  to  the  Manitoba  College,  and  am  in  the  Fourth 
Book.  We  have  had  a  good  deal  of  sin  iw  already, 
and  it  is  very  cold.  My  mother  is  writing  this  for 
me,  as  I  am  sick  in  bed  to-day.  Men  and  buys 
wear  large  buffalo-skin  coats  in  winter.  People 
have  to  buy  water,  and  men  bring  it  in  barrels 
and  water-carts.  There  are  a  great  many  kinds 
of  people  up  here,  such  as  Icelanders,  Swedes, 
Jewish  refugees,  Mennonites,  and  many  Indians 
and  half-breeds.  My  letter  may  be  getting  too 
long,  so  good-by.  IJKKME  W.  S.  T. 

You  needed  buffalo-skins  to  keep  you  warm 
when  that  cold  snap  came  a  fortnight  ago,  did 
you  not,  Bernie  ?  I  think  it  must  be  a  strange  ex- 
perience to  buy  water.  Perhaps  you  are  more 
careful  of  it  than  we  in  New  York,  where  it  seems 
free  as  air. 

YARMOUTH,  NOVA  SCOTIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  I  have  no  sis- 
ters living,  and  only  one  brother.who  is  now  away 
from  home,  so  I  have  to  depend  chiefly  upon  my 
dolls  and  my  pets  for  company.  I  have  a  large 
family  of  dolls  of  all  sizes,  and  they  have  dolls  of 
their  own.  I  had  five  nice  kittens,  who,  with  their 
uncle  Pipsissiway  and  their  mother,  made  quite 


a  menagerie.  My  brother  obtained  for  their 
uncle  Frisky  a  situation  in  a  grocery  store  as 
mouse -catcher,  to  save  him  from  a  watery 
grave.  My  kittens  are  fond  of  riding  in  the 
doll  carriage  dressed  with  hats,  cloaks,  and 
collars,  and  holding  a  doll  in  their  arms,  and 
purring  to  show  their  pleasure. 

My  most  precious  pet  was  a  parrot,  which 
my  grandma  brought  me  from  Boston.  He 
was  only  one  year  old,  and  could  not  say  a 
word.  We  called  him  Paul.  He  soon  learn- 
ed to  say  "  Pretty  Polly,"  "Good-morning," 
"Look  here!"  "Beautiful!"  "Where's  Ber- 
tie?" and  "Kiss  me  pretty,  oh,  kiss  me  pret- 
ty now  !"  in  a  very  coaxing  way,  and  making 
a  sound  just  like  kissing. 

When  mamma  used  to  read  a  funny  story 
aloud,  and  I  would  be  laughing,  Paul  would 
come  down  from  his  perch,  walk  close  up  to 
us,  and  exclaim,  "  Beautiful !  beautiful  !"  lie 
admired  bright  colors,  and  when  he  saw  pret- 
ty flowers,  or  a  gay  piece  of  cloth,  he  would 
say.  "  Beautiful !" 

He  was  just  learn  ing  to  sing  "  Polly,  put  the 
kettle  on"  (and  he  made  a  very  good  attempt 
at  it),  when  he  became  sick  and  died.  We 
felt  very  sorry,  but  we  had  him  stuffed,  and 
he  now  sits  on  a  little  table  in  the  parlor. 

I  have  not  been  to  school  much,  but  I  have 
had  my  lessons  at  home.  I  went  a  short  time 
to  a  private  school,  but  had  to  leave  off  on 
account  of  headaches.  Besides  my  usual 
school  studies.  1  am  learning  music,  drawing, 
Italian,  sewing,  und  cooking.  Mamma  is  my 
teacher  in  all  except  drawing. 

PJI  pa  gave  me  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  a  Christ- 
mas present  two  years  ago.  We  all  like  it 
extremely.  It  would  make  my  letter  too 
long  to  tell  you  anything  about  our  town  or 
our  eagle. 

Have  I  written  too  much  ?  If  so,  dear  Postmis- 
tress, please  excuse  BEUTIE  B. 

Your  description  of  your  cats  and  dolls  is  quite 
fascinating.  I  was  visiting  a  friend  one  day,  and 
saw  a  very  pretty  canary  hanging  in  its  cage  in 
her  bay-window,  among  vines  and  flowers.  I 
noticed  that  it  did  not  stir,  so  after  a  while  I 
said,  "  Why,  L.,  that  is  the  stillest  bird  I  ever  saw 
in  my  life."  "No  wonder,"  she  replied;  "poor 
Muff  is  stuffed."  So  I  suppose  your  pretty  Polly 
may  impose  now  and  then  on  callers  in  the  par- 
lor. 


UTICA,  Nsw  YORK. 

Hike  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  lam 
very  glad  Christmas  is  so  near  at  hand.  1  hope 
Santa  claus  will  bring  me  a  nice  train  of  oars  and 
a  steamer.  Papa  sells  beaut  if  ul  ( 'hristmas  cards. 

I  am  six  years  old,  and  can  read  (so  my  teacher 
says)  very  well.  1  can  spell  words  of  four  sylla- 
bles. I  am  a  pretty  good  boy  when  I  don't  get 
into  mischief.  I  have  no  sisters  nor  brothers,  and 
so  have  nobody  to  amuse  me.  and  I  do  so  like  to 
be  amused.  I  suppose  all  little  boys  do,  don't 
they?  Mamma  read  me  the  poetry  you  wrote 
about  Thanksgiving,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
be  a  good  boy  all  day  long  Thanksgiving,  and  I 
think  I  was.  "I  didn't  get  in  any  mischief,  ami 
had  a  splendid  time,  or,  rather,  dinner,  at  grand- 
ma's. 

I  have  two  grandmas  and  no  grandpa.  I  love 
my  grandmas  very  much,  but  I  guess  they  some- 
times think  I  am  horrid,  for  they  say  I  turn  things 
topsy-turvy  whenever  I  go.  Mamma  is  writing 
this  letter  for  me.  and  says  you  won't  trouble  to 
answer  it,  but  I  guess  you  will,  for  it  is  the  first 
letter  I  ever  wrote,  and  I  commenced  it  myself, 
but  got  so  tired  I  could  not  finish  it. 

WILLIE  R.  P.  R. 

I  don't  think  either  of  those  good  grandmas 
ever  calls  Willie  boy  horrid.  Your  letter  came 
before  Christmas.  Now  that  it  is  over.  I  hope 
you  have  the  steamer  and  the  train  of  cars,  and 
are  enjoying  them  very  much. 


fingers  of  my  sister  Grace  while  she  was  feeding 
him  some  candy,  and  finally  got  sick  and  died, 
and  is  now  buried  just  out  of  town.  We  have 
not  any  pets  just  now.  ELVA  C.  (10  years  old). 

What  a  pity  the  pony  died  !  If  you  have  any 
more  entertaining  pets,  be  sure  to  write  about 
them. 

MONROE,  NORTH  CAROLINA. 

I  gladly  send  in  my  name  as  a  member  of  the 
Housekeepers'  Sociable.  Not  that  I  dislike  wash- 
ing dishes,  like  Rosalie,  for  we  often  have  plea- 
sant times  over  our  work,  but  I  think  the  So- 
ciable will  cause  us  to  feel  as  if  we  knew'  one 
another.  I  am  fond  of  cooking;  I  made  the 
bread  to-day.  I  keep  a  book  to  write  down  the 
cakes,  etc.,  when  made,  that  the  recipes  may  not 
be  forgotten,  but  I  don't  get  much  time,  as  my 
studies  take  up  some  hours  ;  then  I  am  sketching 
from  nature,  and  painting.  1  milk  the  cow,  and 
help  mamma  with  the  baby  :  then  my  sister  and 
I  have  the  care  of  the  chickens,  over  one  hun- 
dred in  number.  The  egg  money  is  ours.  Our 
chickens  are  ffood  rat-catchers — better  than  the 
cats.  I  am  fond  of  natural  history,  and  often 
find  some  singular  things  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, but  my  letter  would  be  too  long  if  I  men- 
tioned them.  This  summer  our  sweet-potato  vines 
bloomed  freely,  contrary  to  the  general  way. 
<'au  you  tell  me  why  they  flower  one  year  and 
not  another?  Our  cat  Smutty  will  growl  like  a 
dog  at  strangers,  and  Sandy  sits  up  and  begs  at 
meal-time  ;  both  learned  their  tricks  from  a  little 
dog  we  had.  As  we  expect  to  go  North  soon,  I've 
tried  to  collect  all  the  curiosities,  such  as  the  bark 
and  leaves  from  different  trees,  insects,  and  gold 
specimens.  NELLIE  B. 

BARTOW  COUNTY,  GEORGIA. 

I  have  been  living  in  Georgia  four  years.  We 
came  from  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  I  think 
1  would  like  to  go  back  there  one  of  these  days, 
but  I  like  the  country  because  we  can  ride  horse- 
back, and  raise  so  many  chickens  and  guineas. 
and  have  animals  too.  I  have  a  little  pet  calf 
named  Rossie ;  it  has  no  mother.  I  have  had 
rabbits  and  owls  for  pets,  but  I  think  I  like  dogs 
the  best.  My  sister  Lila  has  had  her  tonsils  cut 
twice.  She  is  six  years  old,  and  I  am  eleven 
years  old  to-morrow,  and  we  will  have  a  candy 
pull  then.  ROSALIE  S. 


COLONY,  KANSAS. 

We  are  two  little  boys,  aged  seven  and  nine 
years.  Mamma  reads  YOTNU  PEOPLE  to  us  in  the 
evening.  We  are  so  interested  in  the  Post-office 
liox  and  the  Young  People's  Cot !  If  we  had  any 
money,  we  would  send  it :  but  with  the  money  we 
earned  last  summer  currying  water  for  the  men 
mamma  subscribed  for  Our  Littlt  o/»:s  for  Bertie, 
and  the  YOTM;  PEOPLE  for  me.  We  came  from 
Pennsylvania  last  spring,  and  live  out  on  the 
prairie.  We  have  a  large  pond,  and  last  week  it 
was  frozen  over,  and  we  had  lots  of  fun  skating 
on  it.  We  have  a  pony  too. 

WILLIE  and  BERTIE  U. 


ELK  CITY,  KANSAS. 


I  have  just  been  reading  your  paper,  and  I 
came  across  a  girl  who  did  not  like  to  wash  dish- 
es. I  am  sure  I  agree  with  her,  for  week-days 
we  have  nine  to  do  for,  and  I  do  get  so  tired  of 
the  dishes.  I  think  it  would  be  very  nice  to  join 
that  Sociable,  and  I  guess  I  will  try  and  join  it. 
I  am  fourteen  years  old.  MARY  F.  W. 


GOU VEBNEDKy NKW    YORK. 

My  sister  Grace  and  myself  have  had  so  much 
fun  'with  our  donkeys  that  I  will  tell  about  them. 
They  were  called  Mexican  burros,  and  were  sent 
by  express  from  Iowa  by  Judge  Hale,  now  Gov- 
ernor of  Wyoming  Territory.  The  biggest  one 
was  three  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  of  a  brown 
color,  and  we  called  him  Popsy.  The  little  one 
was  of  a  mouse-color,  and  known  asMiss  Jumbo. 
All  the  little  girls  and  boys  in  town  rode  or  drove 
them,  and  taught  them  some  naughty  tricks. 
Popsy  would  lie  down  in  the  road  when  he  want- 
ed to  tell  us  he  had  been  driven  enough ;  no 
amount  of  coaxing  could  make  him  get  up.  No 
boy  could  mount  him  when  he  objected.  My 
cousin  was  riding  Miss  Jumbo,  when  she  came 
to  a  mud-puddle,  and  deliberately  dropped  her  ; 
head  and  kicked  up  her  heels,  landing  him  on  the  \ 
other  side.  Their  habit  of  braying  earlier  in  the 
morning  than  we  cared  to  get  up  led  us  to  part 
with  them.  Miss  Jumbo  was  offered  as  a  prize 
for  three  hundred  little  boys  to  run  for  at  the 
fair,  and  was  won  By  Patsy  D.,  and  papa  ex- 
changed Popsy  with  a  circus  company  for  a  beau- 
tiful little  pony.  He  would  teeter,  walk  on  two 
feet,  stand  up,  lie  down,  or  sit  up,  and  was  a  fine 
waltzer  in  the  circus.  He  accidentally  bit  the 


Annie  V.  and  Dora  S.,  here  is  a  game  which  I 
think  will  please  you.  When  your  little  friends 
next  meet,  you  may  try  it : 

THE  BIRD-FAXCIER. 

A  cage  of  chairs  must  be  made  in  the  middle  of 
the  room  ;  then  a  number  of  pieces  of  paper  must 
be  cut,  as  many  as  there  are  players.  On  half  of 
them  the  names  of  birds  are  written.  Then  they 
are  folded  up,  and  carried  round  on  a  plate  to  the 
players,  who  must  each  draw  one.  Those  who 
draw  a  bird  must  walk  into  the  cage  ;  those  who 
draw  a  blank  sit  still. 

When  the  birds  are  all  in  the  cage,  the  Mer- 
chant stands  in  the  middle  of  them ;  and  from 
that  moment  they  must  never  look  away  from 
him.  under  penalty  of  paying  a  forfeit. 

The  spectators,  or  Blanks,  must  walk  round  the 
cage  and  try  to  make  the  birds  break  this  rule  by 
any  artifice  they  can — talking  to  them,  calling 
them  by  name,  etc.,  etc. 

Then  the  bird  merchant  says,  "I  have  a  good 
many  fine  birds  here— a  wise  owl,  a  fat  goose,  a 
merry  lark.  etc. ;  who  will  buy?" 

One  of  the  players  says :  "  I  will.  Describe  your 
birds." 

The  merchant  must  then  repeat  all  their  names, 
and  enumerate  their  good  qualities. 

A  great  deal  of  fun  may  In-  produced  by  the  de- 
scription that  the  bird  vender  gives  of  the  birds, 
which  should  be  appropriate  to  their  characters 
and  appearances,  and  by  which,  sometimes,  the 
purchaser  may  divine  the  player  who  is  the  par- 
rot, nightingale,  etc.  He  purchases  whichever 
bird  he  likes,  and  she  is  immediately  released 
from  her  cage.  Then  the  bird  vender  pays  her  a 
IHII.IIOII  forfeit,  and  all  the  birds  not  selected  pay 
forfeits  to  their  owner.  Example  of  the  game  : 


JANUARY  2,  1883. 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


143 


MERCHANT.  "I  have  here  a.  choice  aviary  of 
birds  ;  will  any  one  buy?" 

Any  one  i if  tlie  r.  impany  who  pleases  may  walk 
round  the  birds,  as  at  tirst,  and  try  to  make  them 
look  away  from  their  proprietor.  If  they  do.  they 
have  to  pay  a  forfeit. 

At  last  the  purchase!  comes  forward,  and  the 
bird  merchant  says:  "liny  a  nice  parrot,  sir'- 
Very  tine  bird.  Feathers  very  briirht  and  beauti- 
ful, eves  like  diamonds,  and  a  wonderful  talker ; 
sin-  chatters  all  day,  and  repeats  everything  she 
hears." 

Pi  CHASER.  "Thanks;  but  I  prefer  a  song  bird. 
Have  y<ni  a  nightingale  • 

MI.I:I  IIANT.  "Yes.  sir;  a  very  charming  singer, 
t-o<i — quite  a  Jenny  Lind  of  the  hedges,  with  a 
plumage  of  a  modest  In-own,  sut't.  elegant,  and 
lady-like;  and  she  sings  charmingly!  <->nly  she 
ha-'  the  fault  of  turning  day  into  night,  and  of 
troubling  people's  sleep,  l>y  Keeping  them  awake 
wilh  delight." 

PrnriiAsKK.  "1  will  buy  her  at  once.  Name 
your  price." 

The  merchant  sets  a  high  price  on  her  bird. 
Tin-  player  who  represents  the  nightingale  lea\ « ^ 
1 1  !,•  eirele  'I'll,-  men 'ham  owes  her  a  t<  >rfeit  of  a 
tHn,!>i>n  ;  the  unchoscn  ours  give  i»>t,/*,t,*  to  the 
bird-seller. 


M.  A.  and  E.T.I!.:  The  request  you  make  falls 

in  witll  our  own   Wishes.      Walell    tlie   Post-offi, -e 

l!ox.  and  you  will  soon  lind  what  you  ask  for. 
Why  do  you  not,  learn  to  recite  some  of  the 
pretty  poems  which  appear  in  ^  nrxi;  PKOPI.K  '.- 
N.  I'.  F.:  How  do  you  ever  find  time  to  dress  and 
undress  nine  dolls';-  Topsy  :  1  agree  with  you 
about  Nan.  What  a  kind  pussy  that  is  to  wake 
you  up  every  morning  ! — Hay  B.  A. :  You  have 
been  quite  a  traveller  for  a  bo \  often  Thaync 
().  K.  :  I  will  try  to  print  your  next  letter.— Lucy 
1.  :  Write  again,  dear.—  Eliza  U.S.:  I  hope  your  new- 
watch  will  be  a  g 1  time-keeper.-  (iraee  M.  S.: 

Thank  you  for  telling  me  that  you  like  the-  let 
ters.  So  do  I.-  Caroline  s.  s  :  I  low  can  you  think 
that  a  big  man  would  behave  in  the  naughty  way 
that  .limmy  Ill-own  does.-  .1  s.  M  :  I  would  like 
to  see  your  scrap-book  .—Willie  \  i;  :  K.  -Mire  you 
semi  me  word  how  the  club  prospers,  and  what 
you  do  at  the  meetings. — Ida  ('.  I-'.:  Ho  you  otten 
go  to  see  your  dear  mamma,  brother,  and  sister:' 
-Nchemiah  C.  McL.t  The  ladyyou  mention  lives 
at  Cleveland,  Ohio.- -Until  -M.:  You  are  welcome 
in  the  Sociable.  So  are  F.dith  I..  Irma  (J.Alice 
W.,  F.mily  T..  Maggie  V.,  Mollie  I;..  Mettle  I'..  An- 
gle C.,  Anna  C..  1'aisy  .!..  Kosa  1!  ,  and  Almira  T. 
— Alice]  L.  II.:  I  hope  you  have  happy  days  at 
boarding-school.— Johnnie  M. :  Call  your  white 
puss  either  Minnie  or  lUanehc 


YOUNG  PF.OPI.K'S  CUT. 

Contributions  reeei\'ed  for  Young  People's  Cot, 
in  Holy  Innocent's  Wanl.M.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal for  Children,  411? 'West  Thirty  fourth  street: 

Kmma  I).  Bailey,  Ilarrisburg,  Penn.,  gl  ;  Kate 
Watson.  Toledo.  Ohio,  S'J ;  liessie  Kingslaml.  St 
I... llis.  -J.V.  ;  liessie  Comstock.  Albany,  Mo.,  $1  ; 
Florence  Moores.  Glcndale,  Ohio,  $1;  Flonrnoy 
<  'ai-ter.  Fort  Keogli,  Montana,  .">ilc. ;  A  Friend  and 

Well-wisher.  Upper  Alt 111..  re.  :    Francis   N. 

Thompson, Greenfield,  Mass.,.^v-  :  Helen  W.  Reyn- 
olds, Poughkeepsie.  $.'!;  Grade  I..  Morehouse. 
Ballstou,  N.  Y.,  $1 :  From  "  A  siek  one."  #-.':  .1. 
Belcour,  Paris.  France.  04c  ;  c.  K.  It.  and  I).  W. 
I!..  .Inn.,  New  York,  $5;  Ilerberl  and  Walter  V,. 
Felton,  Boston,  $2 ;  Victoria  Brown,  lied  Bank, 
$1:  total,  $20  96.  Amount  previously  reported, 
§1.177  8U;  grand  total,  December  1."),  Sl.'iiw  KJ. 

E.  AUGUSTA  FANSHAWE,  Treasurer,  43  New  St. 


In  giving  the  report  of  our  Cot  fund  this  month, 
we  call  special  attention  to  the  letters  published 
in  connection  with  it,  particularly  the  one  signed 
Aunt  Edna.  Sister  Miriam,  whose  voice  was  so 
kind  and  loving,  has  been  taken  hence.  The  chil- 
dren will  not  forget  her  goodness,  we  are  sure. 


MY  LITTLE  COT  FRIENDS.— Most  of  you  may  le- 
member,  in  a  letter,  my  telling  you  of  Sister  Mir- 
iam, who  had  charge  of  our  ward,  and  who  was 
so  sunny  and  bright  it  always  made  you  feel  bet- 
ter to  see  her.  I  now  have  to  tell  you  that  she 
is  no  longer  with  us.  Cod  has  taken  her  away 
from  the  painful  sights  she  daily  saw  to  that  bright 
home  above,  where  "there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow,  nor  crying,  neither  any  more 
pain."  After  a  very  short  illness,  she  died  at  the 
hospital  October  34,  1B82. 

The  last  time  I  visited  our  ward  I  found  in  our 
Cot— the  one  Sister  Miriam  had  selected  to  be 
ours— a  funny  old-fashioned -looking  little  girl 
named  Mary  Murray;  but  if  I  had  not  had  the 
help  of  the  ticket  over  her  cot  I  am  afraid  I  could 
not  have  told  you  her  name,  as  she  said  it  so  fun- 
mly.  She  has  some  trouble  with  hsr  back ;  but 
as  she  is  able  to  walk  round  the  room  now,  I  hope 


slie  will  soon  be  better.  Most  of  the  little  cots 
were  filled,  and  I  can  assure  you  the  talking  and 
noise  was  great.  Two  little  lame  ones  were  show- 
ing  me  how  ihev  could  run  a  race,  so  you  see 
t  hev  tell  very  bright,  and  I  know  when  any  of  us 
who  have  denied  ourselves  for  this  object  visit 
the  ward  anil  our  Cot  some  day— when  it  is  really 
ours.  I  mean — and  see  some  little  one  resting  in 
it.  and  iti  comfort  although  sick,  we  will  be  very 
happy  and  thankful  to  Cod. 
Affectionately  yours,  AUNT  EDNA. 


BALLSTON  CENTRE.  NKW  YORK. 

I  have  a  little  sister  Alice  not  quite  six  years 
old.  1  am  eight.  We  live  in  a  little  house  with 
a  big  woodbine  all  over  the  front  porch.  \\  e 
have  not  any  pets  except  a  little  baby  sister. 
Mamma  does  not  like  eats,  because  they'kill  our 
birds.  Last  summer  we  had  orioles',  robin  red- 
breasts',  and  \ello\v -birds'  nests  in  our  yard,  and 

a  little  chippy-bird's  nest  in  the  woodbine,  and 
one  iii  a  tloweriiig  currant-bush  under  our  bed 

room   window.     \\  e    have   a   -real   big  chestuut- 

tree  close  bv  the  house,  and  Alice  and  I  have 

piekeil    lip  and    Sold  cheslnuts  enough  to  get    one 

dollar,  and  we  want  to  send  it  to  you  for  Young 
People's  lot.  \\  e  have  had  HA'KI-I.K-  VMS.. 
1'Eorl.K  for  a  year,  and  think  of  getting  up  a  elnli 
for  next  (.I:\IIE  L.  MoiiEnorsE. 


FORT  KK...; 

I  am  a  little  boy  ill  Fort  Keogh.  Montana.  My 
father  is  an  ofticer  in  the  army.  I  hail  til'tj  cents, 
and  I  thonu-ht  I  would  like  to  give  it  to  Young 

People'-.  Cot,  SO  ]   sen, I   lilly  cent-,  in    stamp-,  lie 
eall-e    1    eall    not    send    silver   through    the   mail.       I 
will  try  to  get  some  of  Ihe  boys  to  send  some.     I 
hope  I  eaii  send  some  more  some  t  it  her  day. 
Very  truly  your  liltle  friend. 

KLorilMH    I   AI1TEH. 


TOLIDII.  oil,... 

I  have  never  written  to  YIU-NI;  1'r.nri.E  be  fore, 
but  my  brother  and  I  have  taken  it  ever  since  it 
was  published.  A  11  t  lie  Children  write  about  their 
pets.  1  have  an  indigo  bird,  one  of  three  found 
in  a  nest  in  a  currant-bush.  \\ V  have  opened  its 

cage  door  to  let  il  go,  but  it  seems  to  like  its 
home  with  us.  I  hax  e  a  sister  younger  than  my 
self;  she  is  taking  lessons  on' the  violin.  Her 
name  is  Fanny  Adele.  Florence  W\nn,  Charlie 
Parmlic.  Hurt  Alcorn.  Hat  tic  Lamb.  Fanny,  and  I 
got  up  a  fair  to  raise  money  for  the  Cot.  We 
made  paper  dolls  and  other  things  besides,  but 
nothing  sold  so  well  as  the  candy.  F.ach  one 
got  some  sugar. and  so  helped  to  furnish  the  taf- 
ty.  Find  inclosed  two  dollars  for  Young  People's 
Cot.  KATE  WATSON. 


BOSTON,  MAKRACHI  SKTTM. 

Inclosed  lind  t«o  dollars,  which  two  boys— 
Herbert  I.  Felton  ami  Walter  E.  Felton  -received 
tor  an  impromptu  fair  which  they  got  up  them- 
selves. They  wished  to  send  it  tor  Young  IVo- 
ple's  Cot.  Herbert  takes  HARPER'S  Y'OUNG  PEO- 
PLE, and  read  of  it  there. 


NK\V  Y..RK  CITV. 

When  I  sent  the  first  money  to  the  Cot,  and 
promised  to  send  more.  I  did  not  mean  to  be  so 
long  about  it.  but  every  time  I  saved  up,  some- 
thing  came  along,  and  1  had  to  begin  all  over 
again.  First  it  was  the  fund  for  dear  Mrs.  Gar- 
field,  then  the  Michigan  sufferers,  and  after  that 
Christmas.  Witli  the  new  year  I  tried  again, 
and  by  the  beginning  of  June  had  the  two  dol- 
lars, but  a  neighbor  came  in  to  see  mother  and 
beg  for  a  poor  woman  with  three  or  four  chil- 
dren, the  big  one  not  live  years  old,  whose  hus- 
band had  been  dead  six  weeks,  and  who  thought 
she  could  support  herself  and  them  by  making  a 
sort  < if  store  of  her  front  room,  and  selling  things. 
She  had  no  money,  but  had  got  the  goods  on 
credit.  Xow  she  was  in  great  distress,  for  rob- 
bers had  broken  in  and  stolen  everything.  The 
only  way  of  paying  for  the  goods  had  been  her 
hope  of  selling  them,  and  now  she  had  no  goods, 
and  owed  all  this  money.  I  wanted  the  money 
forthe  Cot,  and  I  wanted  the  money  for  the  poor 
woman,  and  after  thinking  for  a  while,  gave  it  to 
help  raise  the  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for 
the  poor  woman,  for  I  thought  it  would  take  a 
while  to  get  all  the  Cot  money,  and  perhaps  I 
might,  by  trying  hard,  save  another  two  dollars, 
but  the  other  could  not  well  wait.  Monday  fin- 
ished the  two  dollars,  and  I  send  it,  hoping  it  will 
reach  you  on  Thanksgiving-day.  I  tell  you  all 
this  only  that  you  may  know  when  you  say  those 
things  that  make  me  feel  so  badly— "  Can  little 
folks  do  no  better  than  this  for  Young  People's 
Cot  >"— that  though  the  result  is  not  much.  I  li.-m- 
really  tried.  A  SICK  ONE. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

ENIGMA. 

My  first  is  in  church,  but  not  in  kirk. 
My  second  is  in  sea-fog,  but  not  in  mirk. 
My  third  is  in  leader,  but  not  in  hint. 
.My  fourth  is  in  landscape,  but  not  in  tint. 
My  fifth  is  in  year,  but  not  in  week 
My  whole  two  plants  we  in  winter  seek. 

Moriim  BUNCH. 

No.  2. 

CHARADE. 

My  first  has  no  beginning  nor  ending. 
My  second  is  neither  warlike  nor  strong. 
My  whole  is  the  theme  of  poets,  but  will  keep 
a  nervous  man  awake.  **    **    **. 


No.  3. 

BEHEADINGS   AND  CI'RTAII.IN(;s. 

1.— 1.  I  am  a  stranger  ;  behead  me.  and  I  am  a 
claim.  2.  I  am  a  musical  sound  ;  behead  me.  and 
I  am  a  cozy  nook.  3.  I  am  a  figure  ;  behead  me, 
and  I  am  a  cord.  4.  I  am  a  current  :  behead  me, 
and  1  am  a  boat.  5.  I  am  an  insect  ;  behead  me. 
and  I  am  a  landscape,  d.  1  am  a  color;  behead 
me.  and  I  am  the  French  word  for  one.  7.  I  am 
a  sounding  vessel  ;  behead  me,  and  I  am  a  mea- 
sure. K.  I  am  a  locality  ;  behead  me,  and  I  am 
an  ornament.  8.  I  am  a  disagreeable  quality; 
lichead  inc.  and  I  am  a  pleasure,  in.  I  am  a  per- 
son of  dignity  ;  behead  inc.  and  I  am  a  quantity. 
It  I  am  a  resting-place;  behead  me.  and  I  am  a 
hollow  lube.  l-J.  I  am  merry:  behead  me.  and  I 
am  supple.  13.  I  am  two  ;  behead  me.  and  I  am 
invisible.  14.  I  am  evasive  in  my  nature  ;  behead 
me,  and  I  am  a  gait. 

3. — 1.  I  am  a  troop :  curtail  me,  and  I  am  a  curse. 
','  I  am  duration;  curtail  me,  and  I  am  a  boy's 
nickname.  3.  Cam  a  celestial  visitor:  curtail  me, 
and  I  am  an  invitation.  4.  I  am  an  insect;  cur- 
tail me,  and  I  signify  to  exist.  r>.  I  am  to  fall: 
curtail  me, and  I  ani  the  most  prolific  cause  of 
misery.  0.  I  am  a  hue;  curtail  me,  and  I  am  a 
metal.  7  I  am  the  source  of  all  courage  ;  curtail 
me,  and  I  am  a  ball. 

THE  LAMI:  SCHOOL-MASTER. 


No.  4. 

TWO  EAST   DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  letter.    2.  A  fluid.    3.  A  country  in  Asia. 

I.  Relation.     .r).  A  letter. 

2.— 1.  A  letter,    2.  A  deer.    3.  In  the  neighbor- 
hood.   4.  To  devour.    5.  A  letter.  J.  c.  II. 


No    ,'i 
NUMERICAL    KNIGMA. 

T  am  composed  of  3  words  and  14  letters. 
My  1.4,  10. 3,  7  is  in  the  staff  of  life. 
My  ri,  2,  11,8  is  an  animal. 
M  >  !i.  (i,  3, 13  is  a  carpenter's  tool. 
My  12,  11,  13  is  used  in  making  soap. 
My  whole  is  one  of  the  lincst  sights  in  America. 
II.  II.  K. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  102. 

No.  1.   TBHUANTEPEC 

GALVE  STON 

A  N  T  W  E  K  P 

SABLE 

BUI; 

R 

WYE 

NEPAL 

OKHOTSK 

NICARAGUA 

C  H  E  I  S  T  I  A  N  I  A 


M  alta 

I    daho 
<-  ena 
T  hames 

I   owa 
A  frica 
D  elaware 
E  n  gland 
S  eine 
Dandelion. 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 


SHY 

C  H  E  E  R 

YES 

K 

NAME 
AMEN 

MEND 
ENDS 


S 

ATE 

STOVE 

EVE 

E 

D  O  O  K 

o  c;  K  K 
O  li  B  S 
REST 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Edward  C.  Comvay.  Dorville  s.  Coe,  Belle 
Bertrand,  Susy  Winthrop,  Talbot  Devins.  T.  L.  II., 
Charlie  Folsom.Tom  V..  Ida  L. Hardy,  Florence 
Kicker,  E.  Widger,  Emily  Bascom,  Molly,  Kitty, 
and  Mabel  Allison,  Daisy  and  Francis  Kossiter, 
P.  Van  Gieson,  John  Cairns,  Lucius  P. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  Zd  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


144 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  CHRISTMAS    CAROL. 


WHO  WAS  HE? 

BY  L.  A.  FRANCE. 

HE  was  born  in  the  year  1780,  in  a  town  now  called  Franklin, 
but  formerly  Salisbury,  situated  near  the  centre  of  New 
Hampshire. 


His  father  served  in  the  Revolutionary 
war,  and  it  was  to  him  that  General  Wash- 
ington said,  on  the  night  when  he  was 
post  i-d  as  guard  before  the  General's  head- 
quarters, "Captain .  1  believe  I  can 

trust  yon." 

He  was  a  very  delicate  boy,  but  grew  to 
be  a  very  strong  man. 

He  was  taught  to  read  at  home,  and  at- 
lended  the  town  school  at  intervals  until 
he  was  about  fourteen  years  old,  but  on 
account  of  his  delicate  health  he  spent 
more  time  in  out-dour  sports  than  at  his 
studies. 

His  particular  friend  and  companion  at 
this  time  was  an  old  British  soldier  who 
had  come  to  live  in  a  house  on  his  father's 
farm.  From  him  he  learned  the  delights 
of  fishing,  and  heard  wonderful  tales  of 
adventures. 

He  was  fond  of  reading,  but  had  access 
to  but  few  books. 

He  attended  an  academy  in  Exeter  when 
he  was  about  fourteen.  Although  lie  aft- 
erward became  a  most  eloquent  speaker, 
he  could  not,  when  a  boy,  deliver  even  the 
most  simple  declamation  before  the  school, 
and  failed  whenever  he  was  persuaded  to 
make  the  attempt. 

He  entered  Dartmouth  College  when  he 
was  fifteen,  and  graduated  in  1801.  He 
was  not  considered  more  than  an  average 
scholar  during  his  first  two  years  in  col- 
lege, but  in  his  third  year  he  began  to 
show  considerable  talent  both  as  a  thinker 
and  an  orator.  He  became  the  principal 
debater  in  the  college  society,  and  at  the 
end  of  his  Junior  year  was  the  best  writer 
and  speaker  in  the  college. 

After  he  graduated  he  studied  law,  and 
worked  at  times  to  get  the  money  to  con- 
tinue his  studies. 

A  short  time  after  he  was  admitted  to 
the  bar  he  removed  to  Portsmouth,  and 
soon  rose  to  distinction. 

He  was  elected  to  Congress  in  1812. 

He  ranked  among  the  most  distinguish- 
ed jurists  in  the  country. 

When  the  two-hundredth  anniversary 
of  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims  was  cele- 
brated, he  delivered  the  address. 

In  1841  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of 

State  by  President  Harrison,  and  again,  in  1850,  the  same  honor 
was  conferred  upon  him  by  President  Fillmore. 

His  name  is  connected  with  almost  eiery  public  interest  of 
his  time,  and  he  was  a  noted  speaker  and  political  leader. 

He  was  thrown  from  his  carriage  and  received  severe  injuries 
in  May,  1852,  and  died  in  October  of  the  same  year. 


.    ^J=, 


WINTER   WHEN    GRANDPA    WAS    YOUNG. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


LLUSTRATED 


VOL.  iv.— x<>.  n;r. 


I'i  m.isHED  BY  HARPER  A:   15  HOT  HERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  January  !i,  lsn;j. 


L'v[.vrlj;lll,  1?*..  l.y    l 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


"AN   EXCLAMATION    OF    SURPRISE    AROSE   FROM   ALL   AS    JEAN   AND   HIS   BURDEN   MARCHED   IN.' 
[SEE  STORY,  "  FLORIO    AND  FLORELLA,"  NEXT  PAGE.] 


146 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FLORID   AND    FLORELLA. 


Si  Cljtfstniiis 


{Talc 


BY  MRS.  W.  J.  HAYS. 
II. 

HIGH  up  in  the  Swiss  mountains  a  storm  was  brewing. 
On  their  cloud-capped  summits  nothing  could  he  seen 
but  snow,  dazzling,  blinding  white  snow,  and  wreaths  of 
vapor  which  congealed  as  it  fell.  All  day  the  people  of 
the  hamlets  had  been  preparing  for  the  visitor,  knowing 
full  well  that  they  should  be  housed  for  weeks  after  its 
descent,  and  as  Christmas  was  approaching,  it  was  needful 
that  much  should  be  done. 

As  the  day  grew  darker  each  hurried  to  complete  his 
or  her  work,  and  none  essayed  more  eagerly  to  do  this  than 
young  Franz,  the  goat-herd  ;  but  try  as  he  would,  the 
heedless,  wanton  little  flock  were  constantly  escaping 
from  him,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  Jan,  the  great  mastiff 
of  the  famous  St.  Bernard  breed,  he  would  have  been,  still 
more  troubled.  As  it  was,  he  found  one  goat  missing 
when  he  went  to  house  them,  and  again  he  had  to  take 
his  alpenstock  and  try  what  he  could  do. 

By  this  time  the  storm  was  indeed  upon  them,  and  be- 
tween the  wind  and  the  snow,  the  icy  atmosphere  and  the 
darkness,  Franz  had  about  concluded  to  let  the  goat  go, 
when  Jan  began  to  sniff  about  and  bark,  and  show  by  signs 
as  easily  read  as  print  that  he  was  seeking  something. 
Franz  thought  it  must  be  on  account  of  the  goat,  but  just 
then  old  Nan  appeared  with  her  customary  capriciousness, 
and  made  no  resistance  to  the  cord  with  which  Franz 
bound  her. 

Still  Jan  kept  up  his  scratching  and  sniffing  and  bark- 
ing, and  Franz  knew  only  too  well  that  there  was  no  use 
in  opposing  him,  although  his  fingers  and  toes  were  half 
frozen. 

As  soon  as  the  dog  saw  that  Franz  recognized  the  neces- 
sity 'of  following  him  he  quieted  down,  and  with  a  zealous 
industry  nosed  the  path  from  side  to  side,  as  if  in  search 
of  something  ;  nor  did  he  have  to  go  far,  for  they  present- 
ly descried  what  seemed  like  a  big  snow  heap  on  one  side 
of  the  now  uiidiscoverable  path. 

Here  Jan  halted  and  looked  intently  ;  then  he  began 
scratching  and  whining  again,  and  Franz  saw  a  bit  of 
cloth.  Soon  an  arm  appeared,  and  next  a  leg,  and  after 
vigorous  work  from  both  Franz  and  Jan,  the  whole  figure 
of  a  child,  clasping  something  in  its  arms,  was  uncovered. 
Dead  or  alive,  Franz  knew  not  which  it  was;  but  very  well 
he  knew  what  it  was  the  child  carried,  for  its  big  bushy 
red  tail  showed  it  to  be  a  fox,  and  it  too  was  as  motion- 
less and  lifeless  as  the  child. 

The  goat-herd  had  braved  the  dangers  of  the  mountains 
all  his  lifetime  and  knew  how  to  lie  cool  and  decided  in  the 
presence  of  danger.  He  had  his  knife  and  drinking-cup 
beside  him,  and  his  horn  slung  over  his  shoulder.  In  a 
moment  he  had  made  Nan  stand  still  while  he  milked 
her,  and  then  he  pried  open  the  stiff  lips  of  the  lad,  and 
forced  the  warm  liquid  within.  As  he  did  so,  the  child 
revived  and  swallowed,  for  he  had  not  been  long  uncon- 
scious. Then  putting  him  on  Jan's  back,  and  driving  Nan 
before  him,  Franz  made  his  way  home  as  best  he  could. 

It  was  late  wrhen  tired  Franz,  whose  mother  was  in  the 
doorway  looking  anxiously  for  him.  arrived.  All  the 
children  were  within,  and  the  fire  was  burning  brightly. 
On  the  table  the  soup  was  steaming.  An  exclamation  of 
surprise  arose  from  all  as  Jan  and  his  burden  marched  in. 

"Who  is  it?  Where  did  he  come  from?  Where  did 
you  find  him  ?  What  was  he  doing  all  alone  in  the  storm?" 
burst  from  all  their  lips. 

"So,  so;  slowly,  please."  answered  the  cool  and  coura- 
geous Franz.  Then  he  told  them  his  adventure. 

"A  stranger  lad  lost  on  the  road-side,''  murmured  the 
mother,  as  she  took  the  hov  from  Jan  and  carefully  un- 


dressed him,  the  children  meanwhile  attending  to  the 
nearly  frozen  fox. 

"Poor  child !  poor  child !  he  shall  be  welcome.  A  sor- 
ry Christmas  it  is  for  him." 

"Not  when  he  fell  into  your  hands,  good  mother,"  said 
Franz,  ladling  out  the  soup. 

"No  indeed — no  indeed,"  said  one  and  all. 

But  the  mother's  words  seemed  to  be  the  truth,  for 
though  the  child  revived  and  was  able  to  take  nourish- 
ment, a  fever  set  in,  from  which  it  did  not  rally.  Day  by 
day  he  lay  in  the  little  curtained  recess  where  he  could 
see  them  all  witli  his  great  wondering  eyes,  watching  them 
carve  their  beautiful  toys — for  this  was  their  winter  work 
• — but  saying  nothing,  for  he  knew  not  their  language,  and 
only  one  word  had  he  uttered  which  they  could  under- 
stand. 

This  word  was  simply  "Edelweiss."  "Edelweiss,"  he 
muttered,  when  the  fever  was  at  its  height,  and  "Edel- 
weiss," he  softly  whispered  when  dreaming. 

The  children  called  him  "Little  Edelweiss,"  and  fed  his 
fox,  which  lapped  their  hands,  and  brought  a  sweet  smile 
to  the  face  of  the  little  sufferer. 

Christmas-eve  would  be  on  the  morrow,  and  all  were 
busy  dressing  the  room  with  boughs  of  evergreen.  The 
tree  stood  in  the  corner  waiting  for  its  glittering  fruit. 
Outside  the  sheaf  of  grain  had  been  tied  to  a  pole  for  the 
snow-birds.  All  had  some  trifling  gifts  prepared  for  a 
joyful  keeping  of  the  day,  Franz  only  seemed  to  be  un- 
easy. He  would  glance  at  the  pale  face  of  his  little  found- 
ling, and  then  he  would  look  out  to  see  if  the  weather  was 
fine,  and  at  last  he  reached  up  for  his  thickest  wrap  and 
staff,  and  away  he  went  up  the  mountain-side.  Nothing 
could  be  seen  up  that  way  but  the  red  roof  of  a  convent, 
and  peak  after  peak  of  ice  piercing  the  blue  sky. 

It  was  late  when  he  returned  and  put  something  care- 
fully behind  the  tree.  All  were  waiting  for  their  sup- 
per, for  they  were  anxious  to  go  to  bed  that  the  dear 
Christinas  might  the  sooner  come. 

His  mother  scolded  a  little,  but  the  stranger  boy  put  up 
his  thin  hand  reprovingly,  as  if  he  could  not  bear  to  have 
Franz  rebuked,  and  then  they  all  laughed,  for  they  all 
loved  Franz. 

But  soon  they  were  sleeping  quietly,  and  the  moon 
shone  upon  happy  faces — only  the  little  guest  tossed  and 
murmured  "  Edelweiss." 

The  morrow  came,  and  with  it  many  a  merry  greeting. 
And  now  they  could  hardly  wait  for  the  day  to  pass. 
Long  before  dark  the  table  was  set  with  its  sausages  and 
spice  cake,  and  beside  each  plate  a  mysterious  packet — for 
the  tree  bore  only  glittering  trifles.  And  when  the  girls 
in  their  pretty  scarlet  bodices  and  whitest  chemisettes  sat 
down,  and  the  mother  reverently  asked  God's  blessing  011 
their  food,  all  broke  into  a  joyful  carol.  Then  they  ex- 
amined their  gifts,  and  the  little  stranger  was  given  his 
share  of  the  good  things. 

But  just  then  Franz  arose  and  brought  from  behind  the 
tree  a  curious-looking  box.  Tearing  off  the  papers  a  small 
but  hardy  plant  was  revealed,  and,  putting  it  in  the  hands 
of  the  invalid,  Franz  pointed  to  its  buds  and  said  the  one 
word,  "Edelweiss." 

A  cry  of  joy  burst  from  the  boy's  lips,  and  he  clasped 
his  treasure  as  if  it  had  been  indeed  a  flower  from  para- 
dise. 

"Edelweiss!  Edelweiss!"  was  all  he  could  utter,  but 
the  sweet  and  grateful  tone  thanked  Franz  better  than  a 
thousand  other  words  could  have  done. 

"Why,  Franz,"  they  all  asked,  "where  did  you  get  it 
at  this  season  ?  It  does  not  grow  in  winter." 

"No,"said  Franz,  "I  know  that  it  does  not,  but  I  have 
often  found  it  in  summer,  and  I  just  happened  to  remem- 
ber plucking  some  by  the  roots  last  spring  for  Father 
Gluckiier  up  at  the  convent — he  is  always  gathering  roots 


JANUARY  9,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


147 


and  herbs  for  the  sick,  and  he  has  a  great  curiosity  to 
transplant  wild  flowers  that  he  may  see  what  they  will 
produce  under  cultivation.  See!  this  plant  already  has 
flowers— months  too  soon.  He  has  several  others,  so  he 
gave  me  this  quite  willingly." 

While  they  were  talking,  the  little  stranger  had  drawn 
a  small  case  of  bircli  bark  from  his  pocket,  and  was  ear- 
nestly comparing  the  faded  and  pressed  flower  it  contained 
with  the  blooming  one  beside  him.  His  face  glowed  with 
happiness,  and  from  that  moment  his  restoration  to  health 
began. 

[TO  BE   CONTINUED.] 


THE  TWINS  OF  ITALY. 

BY  MRS.  WILLIAM  S.  CARTER. 

LONG  years  ago.  across  the  sea, 

Two  lovely  haliy  hoys 
Filled  a  small  home  willi  merry  glee, 

With  laughter,  fun,  and  noise. 

Their  young  Italian  mother  sat 

Beside  her  door  and  spun, 
While  hy  her  side  her  lovely  twins 

Rolled  laughing  in  the  sun. 

Till,  tired  at  last,  they'd  leave  their  plav, 

And  liy  her  side  recline, 
While  she  of  little  .Jesus  tolil. 

The  babe  of  Palestine. 

One  day  a  handsome  stranger  passed 

The  humlile  collage  dunr. 
And  standing  at  their  mother's  knee 

The  pretty  pair  he  saw. 

Not  laughing  now,  hut  rapt  and  .still, 

\Vith   calm   uplifted   eyes. 
Hearing  the  oft  -repealed    tale 

With  ever-fresh  surprise. 

The  stranger  heard  the  story  too, 

And  to  the  mother  said: 
"And  will  you  bring  your  hoys  to  see 

A  picture  I  have  made'.'  — 

"A  picture  of  the  Jesus-child 

Held  on  his  mother's  arm. 
If  you  will  bring  your  lovely  twins, 

They  shall  be  safe  from  harm." 

And  so,  ere  many  days  had  passed, 
The  mother  brought  her  hoys 

To  where  the  handsome  painter  lived, 
Who  gave  them  sweets  and  toys, 

And  played  with  them  and  fondled  them, 

And  so  acquaintance  made. 
Till  they  to  come  there  every  day 

No  longer  were  afraid. 

And  then  each  day  he  painted  them 

As  first  he  saw  them  stand, 
One  chin  upon  the  folded  arms, 

One  resting  on  the  hand. 

And  made  of  each  an  angel-child 

With  wings  like  little  bird; 
And  placed  them  at  the  feet  of  Him 

Whose  story  they  had  heard. 

And  still,  though  centuries  have  passed, 

The  glorious  picture  stands 
Just,  as  it  left,  so  long  ago, 

The  painter  Raphael's  "hands. 


^  still  the  fair  Italian  twins 
With  earnest  eyes  you  see 
Just  as  they  stood  that  summer's  day 
Beside  their  mother's  knee. 


THE  MERRY  ADVENTURES  OF  ROBIN  HOOD. 

BY  HOWARD  PYLE. 
I. 

IN  merry  England  in  the  time  of  old.  when  King  Henry 
II.  ruled  the  land,  there  lived  in  Sherwood  Forest,  in 
Nottinghamshire,  a  famous  outlaw  whose  name  was  Robin 
Hood.  No  archers  ever  lived  who  could  excel  him  and 
the  sevenscore  merrymen  that  gathered  about  him,  all 
outlaws  like  himself. 

When  Robin  Hood  was  a  youth  of  about  eighteen  years 
of  age  the  sheriff  of  Nottinghamshire  proclaimed  a  shoot- 
ing match,  offering  as  a  prize  to  the  best  bowman  a  cask 
of  stout  old  ale.  Then  Robin  Hood  said  to  himself,  "I 
will  go  too'' ;  so  up  he  took  his  stout  bow  and  a  score  or 
more  of  broadcloth -yard  arrows,  and  started  off  all  in  the 
dawn  of  a  sweet  May  day,  from  Locksley  Town  to  Not- 
tingham. Onward  he  walked  briskly  until  in  Sherwood 
Forest  became  upon  a  party  of  the  King's  Foresters,  all 
ehul  in  Lincoln  green,  and  seated  beneath  the  shade  of  a 
great  oak-tree,  making  themselves  merry  over  a  huge 
pasty  and  a  barrel  of  ale. 

When  they  saw  Robin  one  of  them  called  out,  "  Halloa! 
where  goest  thou,  little  boy,  with  thy  penny  bow  and  thy 
farthing  shafts  .'" 

"Now."  quoth  Robin,  "  my  bow  and  eke  my  arrows  are 
as  good  as  thine,  and,  moreover,  I  go  to  the  shooting 
match  at  Nottingham  Town  to  try  my  .skill  with  other 
yeomen  there.'' 

Then  all  shouted  with  laughter,  and  one  said,  "Why, 
boy.  thou  hast  scarce  lost  thy  milk-teeth,  and  yet  thou 
p rates t  of  standing  up  with  the  best  archers  in  all  Notting- 
hamshire." 

Then  Robin  grew  angry,  and,  quoth  he,  "  I'll  hold  the 
best  of  ye  twenty  marks  that  I  cleave  the  clout  at  three- 
score rods." 

At  this  all  laughed  louder  than  before,  and  one  cried, 
"  Well  boasted,  boy,  when  no  target  is  nigh  to  make  good 
thy  wager." 

"Harkee!"  cried  Robin,  his  cheeks  red  with  anger; 
"yonder  at  the  glade's  end  is  a  herd  of  deer.  Twenty 
marks  upon  it  I  cause  the  best  hart  among  them  to 
die." 

' '  Now  done !''  cried  he  who  had  spoken  first.  ' '  Twenty 
marks  that  thou  causest  no  beast  to  die." 

Then  Robin  took  his  stout  bow  and  strung  it,  and  draw- 
ing a  gray -goose  shaft  to  his  ear,  loosed  the  string.  Straight 
flew  the  shaft,  and  the  noblest  hart  of  all  the  herd  leaped 
aloft  and  fell  dead  in  the  forest  path. 

"Ha!"  cried  Robin,  "I  wot  the  wager  were  mine  were 
it  a  hundred  pounds." 

Then  all  the  Foresters  were  filled  with  rage,  and  he  who 
had  lost  the  wager  was  madder  than  all  the  rest.  "  Nay," 
cried  he,  "the  wager  is  none  of  thine,  and  get  thee  gone, 
for  by  the  law  of  the  land  thine  ears  should  be  clipped 
close  to  thy  head." 

"Catch  him  !"  cried  another. 

"  Nay,"  said  another  still,  "  let  him  e'en  go,  because  of 
his  tender  years." 

Never  a  word  said  Robin, but  he  turned  on  his  heel  with 
a  grim  look  and  strode  away,  but  his  heart  was  full  of 
anger.  Then  he  who  had  lost  the  wager,  and  whose  head 
was  dizzy  with  ale,  seized  his  bow,  and  crying,  "I'll  hurry 
thee  anon,"  sent  an  arrow  whistling  after  Robin.  But 
for  the  ale,  Robin  had  never  taken  another  step,  for  the 
arrow  whistled  within  a  palm's-breadth  of  his  head.  Then 
he  turned  quickly,  and  bending  his  own  bow,  sent  a  shaft 
back  in  return.  "Ye  said  I  was  no  archer,"  cried  he. 
"but  say  so  now  again."  But  the  Forester  never  spake 
more,  for  he  fell  upon  the  grass,  his  shafts  rattling  about 
him,  and  Robin's  arrow  in  his  heart.  But  all  before  the 
others  could  gather  their  wits,  the  youth  was  gone. 


148 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


KOBIN    ON    HIS    WAT   TO    NOTTINGHAM. 

Then  the  other  Foresters  lifted  the  dead  man  up  and 
bare  him  a\vay  to  Nottingham  Town. 

Meantime  Robin  ran  through  the  greenwood,  and  all 
the  joy  and  brightness  was  gone  from  everything,  for  he 
had  slain  a  man.  "Alas!"  cried  he,  "  thou  hast  found 
me  an  archer  that  will  make  thy  wife  wring  her  hands  in 
sorrow." 

So  a  hundred  pounds  reward  was  set  upon  his  head,  and 
he  became  an  outlaw,  and  lay  hidden  for  two  years  within 
Sherwood  depths.  But  in  those  two  years  many  others 
joined  him,  and  formed  a  famous  band,  and  chose  him  to 
be  their  leader  and  their  chief,  and  many  merry  adven- 
tures they  had,  as  you  shall  read  hereafter. 


TWO  UNEXPECTED  NEW-YEAR'S  CALLS 

BY   MARGARET   EYTINGE. 

' '  T)  EARS  to  me  if  I  had  some  of  'em,  'pears  to  me  I'd 
JL     git  well  right  away,"  said  Tony,  in  a  fretful  voice. 
"  Don't  you  'member  'em,  Sabie  ?" 

''  Yes,  I  'member  'em  good,"  replied  Sabie,  fanning  the 
sick  boy  with  an  old  straw  fan  she  had  picked  up  some- 


where. And  then  she  went  on  to  say  the 
same  thing  she  had  said  a  hundred  times 
or  more  before  when  asked  the  same  ques- 
tion. 

"They  wuz  a-growin'  'longside  that  place 
they  called  'wood,'  though  it  didn't  look 
much  like  wood  to  me — oh,  sich  lots  of  'em 
— red  as  your  flanning  shirt,  Tony,  an' 
a-kinder  a-hidiii'  under  their  greens.  An.' 
the  man  wot  wuz  a-cuttin'  a  tree  says,  '  Eat 
away,  young  'uns,  they's  free.'  An'  us  eat 
away  an'  away,  an'  oh,  they  wuz  puffickly 
'licious.  An'  there  wuz  jes'  as  many  wen 
us  stopped  a-eatin'  as  wen  us  beginned. 
They  wuzu't  a  bit  like  the  strawberries  they 
gives  me  to  the  niarkit  sometimes  wen  they 
can't  sell  'em.  Them's  smashed  an'—  But 
wot  you  a-cryin'  for,  Tony  ?" 

'  'Pears  to  me,"  sobbed  Tony,  "  if  I  had 
some  from  that  werry  place  I'd  git  well 
right  away.  They  wuz  so  'freshin',  Sabie !" 
Poor  little  fellow,  with  nobody  to  look 
after  him  but  Sabie  and  an  old  grandmo- 
ther! And  the  old  grandmother,  who  had 
been  growing  feebler  and  feebler  year  by 
year  for  many  years,  could  now  do  nothing 
but  sit  in  her  big  rocking-chair  and  knit 
coarse  stockings  and  mittens,  singing  the 
•while,  in  a  sweet,  quavering  voice,  the  old- 
fashioned  hymns  she  had  learned  in  her 
girlhood. 

Sabie  sold  these  stockings  and  mittens 
during  the  cold  months  from  door  to  door 
TJ   V    ^<M  '"  l)OOr  neighborhoods,  and  on  what  mon- 

**?/  \  J  \  p.v  was  earned  in  this  way  the  three  just 
managed  to  live.  But  in  warm  weather, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness  of  a  jolly 
fat  man  who  kept  an  eating-saloon  near  by, 
they  would  have  often  gone  hungry.  He 
saved  for  them  the  best  of  the  food  left  by 
his  customers  (some  of  whom,  thinking 
themselves  hungrier  than  they  really  were, 
ordered  more  than  they  could  eat),  and  oft- 
en when  business  had  been  unusually  brisk 
he  added  two  or  three  rolls,  a  handful  of 
crackers,  or  a  yesterday's  pie. 

A  very  good  girl  was  Sabie.  Not  pretty, 
though  she  might  have  been  if  her  face  had 
not  been  so  pale  and  thin,  for  she  had  soft 
gray  eyes  with  long  lashes,  and  curl y  brown 
hair;  and  not  clever,  for  she  did  not  even 
know  her  letters.  She  was  nearly  ten,  three  years  older 
than  Tony,  and  yet  she  had  never  been  to  school  a  day  in 
her  life.  Her  mother  dying,  after  a  long  illness,  when  she 
was  but  six  years  old,  the  care  of  her  little  brother  fell  almost 
entirely  upon  her,  Granny  then  being  able  to  go  out  with 
the  mittens  and  stockings  herself.  But  now  that  Granny 
had  forgotten  her  way  about  the  streets,  and  could  only  see 
enough  to  knit,  Sabie  had  to  do  the  selling,  the  marketing, 
and  the  house-work,  all  three.  She  was  a  shy  child,  and 
made  no  acquaintances  either  in  the  tall  tenement-house  in 
the  cellar-basement  of  which  they  lived,  or  abroad,  and  so, 
you  see,  her  world  was  a  very  small  one,  containing  only 
Tony  and  Granny  and  two  or  three  of  the  market  people. 
Tony  had  been  delicate  and  almost  helpless  from  his 
birth,  but  Sabie  loved  him  none  the  less  for  that.  In  fact, 
I  think  she  loved  him  more  because  he  was  so  dependent 
on  her.  That's  a  way  girls  and  women  have,  as  perhaps 
you  know.  And  when,  just  after  Christmas,  lie  began  to 
cough  so  badly  that  he  grew  so  tired  he  could  no  longer 
sit  up,  her  heart  ached  for  him,  and  all  the  time  she  could 
spare  from  her  work  she  spent  at  his  bedside  trying  to 
amuse  and  cheer  him. 


JAXUARY  9,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


149 


Now  the  summer  before  the  winter  of  which  I  write 
these  two  children  and  their  grandmother  had  been  taken 
by  the  cook  of  the  eating-saloon  to  spend  the  day  in  the 
country,  where  some  friends  of  hers  lived.  Sabie  and 
Tony  had  never  been  in  the  country  before,  anil  at  first, 
awed  by  the  silence  broken  only  by  the  rustling  of  the 
leaves,  the  hum  of  the  insects,  and  the  song  of  the  birds, 
Iliev  spoke  in  whispers;  but  soon  after  arriving  at  the  very 
small  cottage  of  their  friend's  friends  they  left  Granny 
and  the  other  older  folks  to  chat  and  drink  tea,  and  wan- 
dered oil'  hand  in  hand  together,  mocking  the  birds  as  they 
went.  They  kept  straight  on  through  the  wood  in  which 
the  small  cottage  stood,  turning  neither  to  the  riirht  nor 
the  left  lest  they  should  get  lost,  until  they  reached  the  ex- 
tremeedge.  and  there  they  found  a  patch  a  long  patch — of 
wild  strawberries. 

" Strawberries a-growin' !  strawberries  a  growin':"  the\ 
shouted,  anil  down  went  Sabie  on  her  knee*  hd'on-  them, 
an  example  which  Tony  soon  followed. 

''They's  littler  than  mai-kel  strawberries."  said  she. 
"but  thev's  cunnin'cr.  an'"  tasting  one  -"  sugarer.  I 
Wonder  if  us  kin  take-  some 

"Kin  us.  man  :"  called  Tony  to  a  man  who  was  cutting 
down  a  dead  tree  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 

"  (  'an  you  what   f"  asked  the  man. 

"Take  .some  of  them  strau  hernes  d  Tony. 

"Take  away  :   the;,  're  free,"  was  the  repl\  . 

And  they  did  take  away.  They  picked  and  ate  until 
their  faces  and  hands  were  stained  a  strawberry  red,  and 

only  stopped  when  their  friend  came  to  look  for  them  and 

tell  them  it   was  almost  time  to  go  home. 

That  day  was  like  a  rainbow  set  in  their  dreary  life,  and 
though  the  good  natured  cook  to  whom  the\  owed  it  had 
returned  soon  after  to  Germany,  her  native  land,  they 
had  never  ceased  to  think  of  her  with  love  and  thankful- 
ness, and  to  remember  her  in  their  pra\  er-. 

It  had  been  a  day  in  .lime—  that  beautiful  day  and 
now  it  was  the  last  of  December,  but  still  its  brightness 


and  running  as  fast  as  she  could — she  had  not  forgotten 
a  step  of  the  way  they  had  gone  that  lovely  day — she  soon 
reached  the  ferry-house,  and  timidly  handed  her  ten  cents 
to  the  ticket-seller. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?''  asked  he. 

"  Apple'ill'."  said  Sabie,  meaning  Appleville. 

"The  fare  is  thirty  cents  —  twenty  more.  Here  are 
only  ten." 

The  child  shrank  back,  while  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

''  Stop  a  moment."  said  the  ticket-seller,  seeing  the  tears. 
"Why  do  you  want  to  go  to  Appleville  '." 

''To  git  somethin'  for  me  poor  little  sick  brother,''  she 
answered,  with  a  sob.  "an'  I  haven't  another  penny.  Nei- 
ther has  me  gran'mother." 

"  \Yell,  there's  a  ticket  that'll  take  you  there  and  back. 
And  now  cut  along.  The  boat's  just  in." 

Sal>ie  irrasped  the  ticket,  gasped  "Thank  you,  sir,"  and 
"cut  along"  at  such  a  rate  that  -the  boat  having  yet  live 
minutes  to  wait  before  starting  —  the  people  already  on 
hoard  and  those  uom^on  board  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

In  lifteen  minutes  more  she  stood  in  New  Jersey,  hold- 
in  i'  her  ticket  tight  in  her  hand,  and  looking  about  her  in 
a  half-frightened  way. 

"Apple'ill'  I  want  to  go  to  Apple'ill'."  she  repeated  to 
ever\  one  u  ho  passed  her. 

I '.ut  every  one  uas  so  intent  upon  getting  somewhere 
himself  or  herself  that  no  one  noticed  her.  At  last,  in 
>heer  desperation,  she  clutched  the  silk  cloak  of  a  lady 
u  ho  uas  hurrying  by. 

"  Apple'ill'     oh!  Apple'ill',"  she  said,  desperately. 

The  lady  stopped  and  look  the  ticket  from  her  cold  red 
hand.  "  A  pplc  ville,"  she  said;  "that's  not  Oil  my  road, 
but  I'll  show  you  your  I  rain,  child,  and  the  conductor  will 
let  \  mi  oil'  at  the  place." 

So  the  lady  led  her  to  a  train  of  cars  that  was  waiting 
for  passengers,  saw  her  seati  d  in  one  of  them,  and  then 
hurried  away  again. 

And  Sabie  was  no  sooner  seated  than  the  train,  the  lo- 


came  back  to  the  sick  boy.  and  \\itb  it  a  longing  for  the  eomotive  of  which  had  been  snorting  and  whistling  and 
sued  red  berries  that  grew 
on  the  edge  of  the  old  wood. 
"'Pears  to  me,  if  I  had 
some,  this  pain  in  my  breast 
uould  go  away,"  he  moaned. 
"They  wuz  so  good,  Sabie. 
I  kin  see  'em  now  wen  I  shuts 
me  eyes.  Pooty  red  straw- 
berries. Oh  !  if  you  could 
on'y  git  some  fur  me,  Sabie, 
di'iir  Sabie'.'' 

And  at  last,  oil  New-Year's 
Day,  Sabie  put  on  her  shabby 
fell  hat  and  her  patched  jack- 
et, and  said  to  her  grandmo- 
ther. 

"Granny,  I'm  goiu'  'way 
a  little  while  fur  somethin' 
fur  Tony.  Take  good  care  of 
him  till  I  gits  back."  And 
the  old  woman  stopped  sing- 
ing, "Come,  ye  sinners,  poor 
and  needy,"  long  enough  to 
say  "Yes,  yes,  dearie." 

Then  Sabie  took  ten  cents 
from  behind  the  clock  on  the 
mantel,  and  a  little  basket 
some  one  had  given  her  from 
the  closet,  and  kissing  Gran- 
ny and  her  brother  good-by, 
started  off  in  search  of  the 
wild  strawberries.  It  was  a 
bitter  cold  day,  but  she  drew 
her  jacket  tightly  about  her, 


rM  so  TIRED  AND  SLEEPY  i 


TRY  ANY  MORE  NOW.' 


150 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


screaming1  for  some  time,  started,  and  she  found  herself 
whirled  along  at  great  speed. 

But  how  different  everything  looked  from  the  time  she 
was  whirled  over  this  road  before!  Then  there  were 
green  grass  and  green  trees  and  lovely  flowers  on  every 
side.  Now  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  snow — 
snow — snow.  The  ground  was  covered  with  it,  the  trees 
and  bushes  were  laden  with  it.  Poor  Sabie!  she  had 
thought  that  the  snow  came  only  in  the  city — that  the 
country  was  always  bright  and  green. 

"I  wonder  if  them  '11  be  under  the  snow?"  she  said  to 
herself.  "An"  me  with  no  shovel  to  dig  'em  out!  But 
I'll  try  to  scoop  out  a  few  with  me  ban's  anyhow.'' 

In  a  moment  or  two  more  the  conductor  called  "  Apple- 
ville!" 

"That's  your  place,  little  girl, "said  the  man  who  sat 
next  to  her,  and  getting  up  in  haste,  she  stumbled  through 
the  car  and  out  on  the  platform,  from  which  a  brakeman 
lifted  her  down  and  placed  her  on  the  steps  of  the  station. 
Sabie  climbed  these  steps  as  the  train  flew  away,  and  when 
she  had  reached  the  top  one  there  lay  the  broad  road  they 
had  travelled  that  June  day  before  her.  But  it,  like  all 
the  other  roads,  was  covered  with  snow,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  narrow  pathway  made  by  a  snow-plough  on  one 
side.  But  Sable's  stout  little  heart  would  not  give  up. 
"Poor  Tony!'1  she  said,  and  began  plodding  along  the 
pathway. 

It  grew  colder  and  colder;  her  ears  and  feet  ached,  her 
hands  were  numb;  butstill  she  toiled  on.  "Theywuzby 
the  end  of  this  street,"  she  said,  and  her  breath  froze  on 
the  air  as  she  spoke.  ' '  Maybe  there's  a  few  left.  If  there 
be,  I'll  git  'em  somehow."  And  on  and  on  she  trudged, 
with  all  the  patience  and  endurance  born  of  love,  until 
the  wood  was  reached. 

But,  alas!  the  spot  where  the  strawberries  had  grown 
was  one  vast  heap  of  snow. 

Then,  for  the  first  time  since  she  started  on  her  quest, 
Sabie's  heart  began  to  sink.  It  would  do  no  good  to 
"scoop"  there  with  her  hands.  Despairingly  she  looked 
about  her  for  something  with  which  to  dig.  The  branch 
of  a  tree,  half  buried  in  the  snow,  lay  across  the  path. 
She  tried  to  pull  it  from  its  resting-place,  but  her  hands 
were  so  cold  it  slipped  from  her  grasp. 

"  If  I  could  only  git  a  few — only  five  or  six!"  she  mur- 
mured, as  a  drowsy  feeling  came  over  her;  "but  I'm  so 
tired  an'  sleepy  I  can't  try  any  more  now;"  and  down 
she  sank  beside  the  fallen  branch,  and  fell  into  a  sleep 
from  which  she  never  would  have  awakened  had  not  a 
sleigh,  full  of  merry  boys  out  making  New- Year's  calls, 
come  dashing  along  that  way. 

"  Hello !"  shouted  the  boy  that  was  driving.  "  What's 
that  I  came  near  running  over  2"  and  he  stopped  the  horse 
suddenly. 

"A  bundle  of  old  clothes,  I  guess,"  said  one  of  his  com- 
panions. "  Drive  on,  Sherry,  do  please.  We  want  to  get 
to  Aunt  Hannah's  by  dinner-time.  Just  think  of  the 
mince-pie  and  doughnuts  awaiting  there,  and  start  along 
your  fiery  steed." 

But  Sherry  jumped  out  instead  of  driving  on.  "Look 
here,  boys," said  he,  bending  over  Sabie,  "it's  a'poor  little 
girl,  almost  if  not  quite  frozen  to  death."  And  raising  her 
in  liis  arms,  lie  carried  her  to  the  sleigh,  where  the  boys. 
with  many  exclamations  of  pity  and  wonder,  soon  had 
her  wrapped  snugly  in  the  buffalo-robe,  and  on  her  way 
to  make  a  totally  unexpected  call  on  Farmer  Joy,  his  good 
wife,  and  pretty  daughter. 

"Here  they  are!  here  they  are!"  joyfully  cried  the 
pretty  daughter  as  the  sleigh  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  run- 
ning to  the  door,  she  called  out,  cheerily,  "Happy  New- 
Year!"  while  her  mother  smiled  the  wish  over  her  shoul- 
der. 

"Happy  New-Year,  Aunt  Hannah  and  Cousin  Dora!" 
shouted  the  boys  in  answering  chorus. 


"And  we've  brought  you  a  caller  we  picked  up  on  the 
road,"  added  Sherry,  laughing  outright  in  his  joy  as  he 
peeped  into  the  buffalo-robe  and  saw  that  Sabie  had  un- 
closed her  eyes,  and  wasn't  anything  like  frozen  to  death 
after  all. 

And  then  he  lifted  her  out,  and  with  Ned  Morningstar 
bearing  part  of  the  buffalo-robe,  as  pages  in  olden  times 
used  to  carry  the  trains  of  the  great  ladies,  he  staggered 
up  the  path  and  up  the  stoop,  and  placed  his  astonished 
burden  before  his  equally  astonished  aunt  and  cousin. 

"I  couldn't  git  'em — I  couldn't  git  'em,"  were  the  first 
words  Sabie  said. 

"Couldn't  get  what,  dear?"  asked  kind  Aunt  Hannah, 
as  she  placed  her  on  the  dining-room  sofa,  and  pulled  off 
the  old  shoes  to  rub  the  icy  feet. 

Sabie  was  unable  to  tell  just  then ;  she  was  so  full  of  ting- 
ling aches  and  pains,  and  her  head  buzzed  so  strangely. 

But  two  hours  later,  when  warm  from  head  to  foot,  and 
dressed  in  some  comfortable  garments  that  the  pretty 
daughter  had  outgrown,  and  after  a  dinner  the  like  of  which 
she  had  never  even  dreamed  of,  she  told  her  simple  story. 

And  when  it  came  to  an  end.  Sherry  went  out  into  the 
hall,  making  a  sign  to  his  comrades  to  follow,  which  they 
did  immediately,  for  they  were  all  true  to  the  "General," 
as  they  called  him. 

"I  say,  boys,"  said  he,  "let's  make  up  a  good  New- 
Year's  present  for  her — she  hadn't  any  Christmas,  poor 
little  thing — and  take  her  home.  We  can  make  a  New- 
Year's  call  on  Tony  and  Granny  at  the  same  time,  and  be 
back  plenty  early  enough  for  Cousin  Dora's  party  too." 

"All  right.  General,"  chimed  in  Ned  Morningstar; 
"and  we'll  get  Aunt  Hannah  to  give  us  a  jar  of  her  pre- 
served strawberries,  and  they'll  bring  the  young  chap 
around ;  that  is,  if  strawberries  can  do  that  same.  They 
aren't  wild,  but  I'm  wild  after  them." 

"I'm  with  you,"  said  Austin  Hovel.  "She's  a  real 
good  sort,  she  is.  Why,  one  of  our  sisters  couldn't  have 
done  more  for  us." 

"Mine  wouldn't  do  half  as  much  for  me."  declared 
Sherry.  "Why,  it  was  only  this  morning  she  refused 
point-blank  to  bake  more  than  fifteen  buckwheats  for  me- 
because  I  was  late  at  breakfast." 

"A  most  unsisterly,  not  to  say  shameful,  proceeding," 
said  Ned  Morningstar,  with  mock  indignation.  "But 
come,  we  must  straight  to  our  aunt  and  cousin  our  plans. 
unfold.  Tempusfugit." 

You  may  be  sure  Aunt  Hannah  and  Cousin  Dora  heartily 
approved  of  the  plans  when  they  were  unfolded.  And 
they  showed  their  approbation  by  packing  into  a  bushel 
basket — an  honest  and  true  bushel  basket — as  their  share 
of  the  New- Year  gifts,  a  loaf  of  home-made  bread,  half  a 
boiled  ham,  a  roast  chicken,  a  bowl  of  butter,  a  tin  pail  of 
fresh  eggs,  a  paper  bag  filled  with  doughnuts,  and  some 
potatoes,  onions,  turnips,  tea  and  sugar,  not  forgetting  two 
jars  of  preserved  strawberries. 

And  Matt,  the  hired  man,  brought  out  the  two-horse 
sleigh,  and  putting  the  heavy  basket  in  first,  got  in  himself, 
took  the  reins,  and  waited  for  the  others.  Sabie,  wrapped 
in  a  blanket,  which  she  was  to  keep,  was  placed  in  the 
bottom  of  the  sleigh  beside  the  basket. 

"  She'll  be  warmer  there  than  anywhere  else,"  said  Aunt 
Hannah. 

Then  the  boys  tumbled  in,  and  the  horses  pranced, 
and  the  bells  jingled,  and  away  they  went,  to  stop,  in  just 
one  hour  and  three-quarters,  in  front  of  the  tall  tenement- 
house  the  cellar-basement  of  which  Sabie  called  "  home." 

And  didn't  the  turn-out  cause  a  great  excitement  among 
the  people  in  that  neighborhood!  Such  a  thing  had  nev- 
er been  seen  there  before,  and  the  windows  on  each  side 
of  the  block  were  filled  with  curious  faces — faces  that 
showed  every  stage  of  astonishment  as  Sabie  was  lifted 
from  the  sleigh,  and  the  six  fine,  manly-looking  boys  fol- 
lowed her  to  call  011  Granny. 


JANUARY  9,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


151 


The  old  woman  stopped  singing  "  How  tedious  and 
tasteless  the  hours!''  and  looked  at  them  with  a  glimmer 
of  surprise  as  they  trooped  in. 

"Happy  New- Year,  grandmother!''  said  they  all;  and 
Sherry  laid  a  purse  filled  with  silver  half-dollars  in  her 
lap. 

"Happy  New- Year,  my  brave  lads."  said  she. 

And  Matt  brought  in  the  bushel  basket,  Sherry  going 
out.  to  mind  the  horses  as  he  did  so,  and  opened  a  jar  of 
strawberries  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye. 

"They's  not  the  werry  same.  Tuny."  said  Sabie,  eager- 
ly, "but  I  got  'em  near  that  place.  I  did.  And  oh,  Tony, 
I  got  lots  an'  lots  of  other  good  things  too." 

"  Did  you  go  'way  out  Caere  fur  me.  jist  fur  me  .'"  asked 
Tony.  "  You's  the  bestest  an'  smartest  sister  over  wuz,  an' 
I  feel  ever  so  much  better  this  werry  mi  unit.  Happy  New- 
fear,  Sabie!" 

And  the  General  and  his  company  got  back  to  Joy  Farm 
just  as  the  party  began,  and  when  the  guests  had  all  ar- 
rived. 

Aunt  Hannah  told  the  story  (if  Sabic's  search  for  the 
strawberries,  and  the  boys  told  about  their  visit  to  Tony 
and  his  grandmother,  and  tin-  result  was  at  least  thir- 
ty more  good  friends  for  the  family  in  the  cellar-base- 
ment. 

And  in  consequence  of  that  result  the  cellar-basement 
was  "to  let"  in  a  few  weeks,  and  Sabie,  Tony,  and  (Jranny 
were  living  in  a  comfortable  four  roomed  cottage  only  a 
stoiie's-throw  from  Farmer  Joy's  farm-house. 

And  there  they  are  living  still.  And  when  Sabie  reads 
tins  stor\  ,  as  she  is  sure  to  do,  she'll  wonder  bow  J  came 
to  know  all  about  those  two  totally  unexpected  New-Year's 
calls. 


WIIKX    I'M    A    MAX. 

l1^     MARY  A.  HAUK. 
AN  eager  umth  with  beaming  eyes 

Looked  out.  into  the  world. 
And  cried.  "My  ship's  in  harbor  yet, 

My  banners  still  are  furled, 
liul    I    uill  do  the  thing   1    can 
When  I'm  a  man ! 

"  There  are  such  wrongs  to  be  rcdi. 

Such   rights  that    need  defense. 
I'll  give  my  heart  to  all  that's  -rood, 

My  scorn  to  all  pretense; 
I'll  work  out  many  a  noble  plan 
When  I'm  a  man: 

"  I  have  so  much  to  see  and  do. 

So  much  that  I  must  say ; 
When  childhood's  happy  days  have  gone, 

With  lessons  and  with  play, 
Then  I  shall  try  the  best  I  can 
To  be  a  man." 


CONCERNING  WILD  BOARS. 

BY  EDWARD  I.  STEVENSON. 

HOW  would  some  of  the  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
fancy  being  suddenly  carried  back  a  few  hundreds  of 
years  to  Christmas-tide  and  a  royal  Christmas-day  banquet 
at  the  castle  of  some  prince  or  proud  knight  living  in  those 
ages  which  we  call  "  Dark"? 

First  of  all  to  be  stared  at,  up  and  down  and  round 
about,  would  be  the  stately  hall,  flashing  with  torches  and 
great  wax  tapers.  Running  the  length  of  this  hall  would 
be  seen  a  long  line  of  tables,  covered  with  curiously  fla- 
vored dishes  (mostly  prepared  from  meats)  all  served  up 
in  various  splendid  platters ;  and  with  them  a  vast  array 


of  wine  flagons  and  drinking  cups.  Seated  at  these  tables 
one  would  surely  behold  scores  of  merry  knights  and  la- 
dies, all  eating  and  drinking  and  talking  gayly  together — 
eating  and  drinking  a  pretty  good  deal,  too,  most  of  them. 
The  torch-light  would  flash  and  glimmer  upon  their  dress- 
es of  gaudy  silk  and  velvet,  gold  embroidered,  and  upon 
the  burnished  armor  and  banners  hung  along  the  walls 
above  their  heads. 

Presently  there  would  be  a  hush  in  the  noisy  fun,  and 
every  one  would  be  seen  to  stand  up  before  his  trencher, 
and  join  in  a  wild  cheer,  as  the  head  butler  came  march- 
ing in  with  a  half-dozen  pages  at  his  heels.  In  that  head 
butler's  hands,  upon  a  huge  silver  platter,  would  be  borne 
an  enormous  wild  boar's  bead,  cooked  to  a  turn,  but  wreath- 
ed with  the  plant  called  rosemary,  and  with  the  tusks 
and  ear-tips  gilded.  This  mighty  dish,  the  king  of  all 
Christmas  dishes  of  the  time,  would  the  butler  set  in  the 
centre  of  the  table. 

Thereupon  many  a  stout  knight  would  drink  a  Christ- 
mas health  in  its  honor,  and  vow,  with  his  hand  upon  its 
head,  some  bold  deed  to  be  done  ere  another  Christmas-tide 
should  come  round.  And  so  (whether  the  good  knight's 
vow  was  or  not  i  would  be  kept,  one  of  the  oldest  and 
queerest  of  our  ancestors'  Christ  mas  customs. 

A  good  long  time  is  it  since  the  wild  boar,  at  a  certain 
season  of  the  year  one  of  the  most  ferocious  of  animals  of 
the  chase,  grunted  and  trampled  in  an  English  forest.  In 
France.  Germany,  Italy,  and  Greece,  as  well  as  in  South 
America,  Asia,  and  Africa,  he  .still  keeps  his  surly  state. 
Kill  u  hen  1  lenry  the  Second,  about  the  year  1100,  reigned, 
and  was  anxious  to  chase,  wild  boars,  there  were  110  wild 
boars  to  be  chased  by  his  Majesty  or  anybody  else.  In 
fact,  that  savage  creature  had  grown  so  scarce  ill  the  time 
of  William  the  Conqueror  that  a  law  was  passed  caus- 
ing the  careless  woodsman  who  should  kill  one  to  sutler 
the  outrageously  brutal  punishment  of  having  his  eyes 
burned  out.  For  what  was  the  ruin  of  a  poor  peasant's  life 
to  those  hard-hearted  lords  and  tine  gentlemen  compared 
with  a  morning's  sport  '. 

Centuries  af'.-er  \Villiam  the  Conqueror  and  his  turbu- 
lent sons  had  all  passed  away,  Charles  the  First,  or  some 
of  his  subjects,  tried  to  restore  the  race  of  wild  boars  to 
Britain.  It  was  too  late.  The  creatures  had  utterly  van- 
ished. 

Both  history  and  what  Pat  called  "histhry  that  isn't 
thrue'' — mythology — have  much  to  say  on  the  wild-boar 
topic.  For  one  example  you  must,  when  you  are  older, 
read  Sir  Walter  Scott's  novel  (t>iifiit/ii  Ditnrard,  which 
tells  about  the  terrible  William  de  la  Marck — him  they 
called  "the  Wild  Boar  of  Ardennes,"  from  his  hideous 
face.  And  then  there  was  the  great  boar  of  Mount  Ery- 
manthus,  in  Greece,  which  stout  Hercules  caught  in  a 
net;  and  the  boar  of  Calydon,  and  the  cruel  beast  that 
gored  pretty  Adonis  to  deal  h,  besides  a  dozen  more  notable 
tuskers. 

In  Hindostan  "pig-sticking,"  as  the  hunting  of  the  In- 
dian boar  is  called,  is  still  considered  fine  sport.  The 
beast  is  pursued  on  swift  little  horses.  The  great  art  is  to 
bring  him  to  bay,  and  stab  him  between  the  shoulders, 
from  the  saddle,  with  a  broad-pointed  steel  spear  express- 
ly made  for  the  purpose. 

The  Indian  wild  boar  is  small  and  vicious,  and  his 
tusks  can  inflict  cruel  gashes.  But  none  of  the  race  can 
surpass  in  bulk  and  ferocity  the  great  wild  boar  still  to  be 
hunted  in  the  deep  forests  of  Germany  and  Holstein. 
The  hunter  needs  plenty  of  courage  and  coolness  to  bring 
down  this  monstrous  beast,  whose  glistening  tusks  can  in- 
flict frightful  wounds.  Nor  does  he  lack  agility  and  cun- 
ning. Woe  to  the  hapless  young  nobleman,  proud  of 
his  skill  and  splendid  accoutrements,  who  is  caught  at 
a  disadvantage  as  the  battle  finishes! 

A  rather  touching  little  tragedy,  two  of  the  actors  in 
which  our  artist  has  contrived  to  bring  face  to  face  with 


152 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  readers  of  this  paper,  has  been  described  by  a  foreign 
writer  upon  hunting  subjects.  A  wealthy  Pomeranian 
noble,  Count  M ,  who  owned  a  castle  situated  in  a  par- 
ticularly wild  region  of  that  country,  was  making  a  win- 
ter visit  to  his  estate,  when  he  found  himself  laid  011  his 
back  with  a  severe  illness. 

While  slowly  regaining  enough  strength  to  stand  a  fa- 
tiguing journey  on  horseback  to  the  nearest  railroad  sta- 
tion, he  ventured  out-of-doors  one  bright  winter  day  for  a 
little  exercise.  He  carried  only  a  walking-stick  in  his 
hand,  and  was  accompanied  by  a  mongrel  cur,  the  property 
of  one  of  his  tenants,  which  had  shown  a  great  liking  for 


THE    BOAR   TURNS    UPON   THE    DOG. 


his  lordship's  society.  Unluckily  Count  M—  -  walked 
further  than  he  had  intended.  He  found  himself,  all  at 
once,  nearly  exhausted. 

Deciding  to  make  a  short-cut  for  his  door  by  a  path 
running  across  a  thickly  grown  corner  of  his  park,  he 
turned  into  it.  How  great  was  his  terror  when  there  ap- 
peared in  the  path,  a  little  beyond  his  helpless  self,  a  stray 
wild  boar  of  immense  size  and  ferocious  appearance.  Tak- 
ing in  at  a  single  glance  all  the  dangers  of  his  situation, 
Count  M stepped  hastily  into  the  underbrush,  hoping 


to  have  escaped  this  terribly  out-of-place  stranger's  no- 
tice. But  he  had  been  too  late.  The  hideous  rover  had 
both  seen  and  heard  the  Count  advancing  up  the  path. 
He  uttered  a  wild  roar,  and  charged  toward  the  spot 
from  which  the  luckless  Count  had  turned  aside.  He 
must  have  certainly  darted  after  and  discovered  the  in- 
valid nobleman  had  not  the  dog,  whose  spirit  was  as  brave 
as  his  breed  was  worthless,  as  if  fully  aware  of  his  patron's 
helpless  condition,  stauchly  stood  his  ground,  barking  fu- 
riously. 

The  bold  little  creature  accomplished  thus  what  he  had 
undoubtedly  tried  to  do.      The  attention  and  anger  of  the 

boar  were  instantly  drawn 
upon  him.  The  dog  leap- 
ed about  his  foe's  flanks, 
skillfully  avoiding  the 
boar's  furious  charges,  and 
all  the  time  seeming  to  do 
his  best  to  confuse  an  adver- 
sary tivr  times  his  bulk. 
He  wisely  seemed  to  make 
no  effort  to  sustain  any  oth- 
er than  a  purely  defensive 
battle.  In  the  mean  time 
the  trembling  Count  had 
with  great  ilillieult y  man- 
aged to  crawl  up  into  the 
only  sizable  tree  near  at 
hand,  a  close-boughed  lir. 

He  could  see  little  of  the 
gallant  light  in  progress 
upon  the  spot  he  had  been 
able  to  quit.  Full  of  admi- 
ration for  his  four-footed 
deliverer's  pluck,  he  called 
as  loudly  and  as  often  as  he 
could  for  help.  With  won- 
derful strategy  the  dog  had 
actually  managed  to  escape 
the  boar's  tusks.  Both  he 
and  his  foe,  who  was  now 
nearly  blind  with  Tage, 
wen-  in  the  thick  of  their 
unequal  contest,  and  filling 
the  woods  with  their  war- 
cries,  the  dog  panting,  but 
full  of  pluck.  Alas!  the 
sound  of  the  Count's  voice 
was  the  poor  creature's 
ruin. 

Apparently  understand- 
ing in  a  second  that  the 
Count  was  in  a  place  of 
safety,  and  that  he  could 
think  of  himself,  the  dog 
suddenly  turned  and  lied. 
Probably  a  tangle  of  frozen 
vines  clutched  fast  one  of 
his  paws  for  a  moment. 
Before  he  could  loosen  him- 
self the  boar  was  upon  him, 
and  with  a  lunge  his  cruel 
tusks  had  ended  his  small 

opponent's  struggle  and  life  together.  The  boar  disappear- 
ed, to  be  overtaken  in  the  afternoon  by  Count  M 's  serv- 
ants. Coming  up  in  alarm  and  almost  without  weapons, 
they  delivered  their  master  from  his  perch  half  fainting, 
and  joined  with  him  in  his  grief  over  the  little  strategist 
to  whom  he  owed  his  life. 

In  the  course  of  the  year,  it  is  stated.  Count  M erect- 
ed a  monument  upon  the  spot  where  his  humble  friend 
met  his  death,  setting  forth  gratefully  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  happened. 


JANUARY  9,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


153 


154 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


PETER  COOPER  AND  HIS  INSTITUTE. 

BY  G.  W.  SHELDON. 

npHE  boiler  of  the  furnace  in  Mr.  Peter  Cooper's  house 
J_  having  leaked  one  day,  that  gentleman  sent  out  to  a 
steam-engine  shop  to  get  a  repairer.  "Whose  boiler  is 
it  ?"  asked  the  foreman.  "Mr.  Cooper's,"  was  the  reply. 
"If  it  is  his, "answered  the  other,  "I  will  do  the  work 
myself."  A  few  hours  afterward  Mr.  Cooper  heard  some- 
body tinkering  in  the  cellar,  and  on  going  down -stairs 
saw  a  bright  young  fellow  in  the  ashes.  "I  am  indebted 
to  you,"  said  the  workman.  "Through  my  studies  at  the 
Cooper  Institute  I  have  become  a  foreman." 

Ten  years  afterward  Mr.  Cooper  was  invited  to  a  dinner 
given  by  the  architects  of  New  York  city,  and  whom  should 
he  see  presiding  at  the  festive  board  but  the  grateful  repairer 
of  his  boiler.  The  next  he  heard  of  him  was  that  the  clev- 
er workman  had  invented  a  steam-pipe,  and  taken  out  a 
patent  for  it  in  England  and  in  this  country.  His  English 
patent  he  sold  for  a  royalty  of  $50,000  a  year,  and  so 
profitable  was  his  American  patent  that  he  employed 
three  hundred  men  to  fill  the  orders  of  buyers.  Only  two 
years  ago  this  successful  graduate  of  the  Cooper  Institute 
died  of  hasty  consumption,  and  left  an  estate  worth  a 
million  of  dollars.  His  name  was  Cameron,  "and  his 
integrity  was  equal  to  his  talents,"  added  Mr.  Cooper, 
while  telling  me  the  interesting  story  a  few  days  ago. 

It  is  possible  that  some  of  the  boys  and  girls  who  read 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  would  like  to  become  students  in  the 
Cooper  Institute.  If  so,  they  will  be  pleased  to  know 
something  about  the  institution  and  its  founder. 

On  the  seal  of  the  corporation  of  the  Cooper  Institute 
Mr.  Peter  Cooper  describes  himself  as  "a  mechanic  of 
New  York."  When  a  boy  he  attended  school  only  one 
year,  and  during  that  time  only  one-half  of  each  school 
day.  He  helped  his  father  make  hats.  At  seventeen 
years  of  age  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  coach-maker.  On 
becoming  a  man  he  invented  a  machine  for  shearing- 
cloth.  Next,  he  made  furniture.  Next,  he  became  a 
grocer.  Last,  he  manufactured  glue  and  isinglass,  and 
has  stuck  to  the  business  for  nearly  sixty  years,  and 
made  a  fortune  out  of  it.  He  is  ninety-one  years  old,  has 
lived  in  the  days  of  every  President  of  the  United  States, 
and  was  himself  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency  in  1876. 
"While  I  have  always  recognized  that  the  object  of  busi- 
ness is  to  make  money  in  an  honorable  manner,  I  have 
endeavored  to  remember  that  the  object  of  life  is  to  do 
good, "he  said  in  his  eighty-fourth  year.  "For  all  my 
public  services,"  he  remarked  to  me  recently,  "I  have  re- 
ceived only  sixty  dollars.  That  was  a  long  time  ago,  and 
the  pay  was  for  sitting  on  the  bench  when  I  was  an  alder- 
man." Among  those  public  services  were  his  advocacy 
of  the  building  of  the  C'rotoii  Aqueduct,  his  contributions 
to  the  financial  literature  of  the  country,  his  efforts  in 
laying  the  first  Atlantic  cable,  his  experiments  in  navi- 
gating canals  by  steam,  his  labors  as  a  Public-school  Com- 
missioner, his  construction  of  the  first  locomotive  ever 
used  in  America,  and,  chief  of  all,  his  founding  and  en- 
dowing of  the  Cooper  Institute  for  the  Advancement  of 
Science  and  Art. 

About  the  year  1828  Mr.  Cooper  learned  from  a  gentle- 
man who  had  just  returned  from  Europe  that  the  Poly- 
technic School  in  Paris  was  a  great  success.  ' '  That  which 
interested  me  most  deeply,"  he  remarked  many  years  after, 
"  was  the  fact  that  hundreds  of  young  men  from  all  parts 
of  France  were  living  on  a  crust  of  bread  and  undergoing 
great  hardships  in  order  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  lectures 
and  instruction  of  that  institution.  I  then  remembered 
how  glad  I  should  have  been  if  I  could  have  found  such 
an  institution  in  my  youth  in  New  York  city,  with  its  doors 
open  to  give  instruction  at  night — the  only  time  I  could 
command  for  study — and  I  reflected  upon  the  fact  that 
there  must  be  a  great  many  young  men  in  this  country 


situated  as  I  was,  who  thirsted  for  the  knowledge  they 
could  not  reach,  and  would  gladly  avail  themselves  of  op- 
portunities which  they  had  no  money  to  procure. 

' '  I  determined,  if  ever  I  could  acquire  the  means,  I  would 
build  such  an  institution  as  would  open  its  doors  at  night 
with  a  full  course  of  instruction  calculated  to  enable  me- 
chanics to  understand  both  the  theory  and  the  most  skill- 
ful practice  of  their  several  trades,  so  that  they  could  not 
only  apply  their  labor  to  the  best  possible  advantage,  but 
enjoy  the  happiness  of  acquiring  useful  knowledge,  the 
purest  and  most  innocent  of  all  sources  of  enjoyment.  By 
this  means  I  hoped  to  contribute  to  the  elevation  and  hap- 
piness of  the  industrial  classes  to  which  I  belonged.  Fi- 
nally my  plan  also  provided  for  a  school  of  art  suited  to 
the  wants  of  females  during  the  day,  with  a  reading-room 
and  library  open  to  both  sexes  from  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning  until  ten  o'clock  at  night." 

Not  until  twenty -six  years  afterward  did  he  "acquire 
the  means."  The  corner-stone  of  the  Cooper  Institute  was 
laid  in  1854,  and  the  large  brown-stone  edifice  on  Astor 
Place  was  thrown  open  to  the  public  in  1859,  having  been 
built,  said  Mr.  Cooper  in  an  address  at  its  public  opening, 
that ' '  the  youth  of  my  native  city  and  country  might  gain 
that  kind  of  useful  knowledge  which  is  needed  to  make 
them  wise,  good,  and  useful  to  themselves  and  their  coun- 
try." So  much  in  earnest  was  the  founder  that  he  has 
spent  more  than  two  millions  of  dollars — twice  the  sum 
that  young  Cameron  earned — in  carrying  out  his  purpose. 

One  result  of  this  great  generosity  is  that  the  boys  and 
girls  who  go  to  the  Cooper  Institute  to  get  the  "useful 
knowledge"  of  which  Mr.  Cooper  speaks  do  not  have  to  pay 
anything  for  it.  They  can  receive  competent  instruction 
in  algebra,  geometry,  trigonometry,  analytical  and  de- 
scriptive geometry,  differential  and  integral  calculus,  ele- 
mentary mechanics,  natural  philosophy,  engineering,  as- 
tronomy, chemistry,  geology,  oratory,  telegraphy,  draw- 
ing of  all  kinds  (perspective,  mechanical,  architectural, 
industrial,  and  free-hand),  modelling  in  clay,  wood-en- 
graving,  and  painting,  and  it  won't  cost  them  anything; 
and  they  can  learn  most  of  it  in  the  evening,  so  that  if  ne- 
cessary they  can  make  money  during  the  day  to  pay,  or 
help  pay,  for  their  board  and  clothes. 

During  the  school  year  that  closed  in  the  latter  part  of 
last  May,  1227  pupils  were  admitted  to  the  free  night 
school  of  art ;  936  pupils  to  the  free  night  school  of  science ; 
756  pupils  to  the  free  art  school  for  women;  60  pupils  to 
the  free  school  of  telegraphy  for  women,  and  403,449  per- 
sons to  the  free  reading-room  and  library.  To  say  that 
1227  pupils  were  admitted  to  the  free  night  school  of  art  is 
about  the  same  as  saying  that  there  were  enough  of  them 
to  fill  a  big  church.  The  large  hall  of  the  Cooper  Insti- 
tute, where  free  lectures  are  given  during  the.  winter,  is 
one  of  the  very  best  in  New  York  city  for  hearing,  for 
safety,  and  for  ventilation. 

"  You  must  be  gratified,  Mr.  Cooper,"  I  said,  "with  the 
success  of  your  Institute,  especially  with  the  opportunities 
for  earning  a  living  which  it  has  given  to  so  many  young 
women." 

"I  am  more  gratified  with  that,"  he  replied,  "than 
with  anything  else.  It  was  one  of  the  things  that  I 
was  most  concerned  about,  and  I  made  a  statement  of  it 
in  my  '  Deed  of  Transfer'  of  the  building  to  the  trustees. 
We  have  graduated  two  hundred  and  fifty  women  teleg- 
raphers in  two  years  and  a  half,  and  the  Western  Union 
Telegraph  Company,  which  has  provided  the  Institute 
with  a  first-class  teacher  of  telegraphy,  gave  most  of  them 
places  right  away,  paying  from  five  hundred  to  a  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year,  and  not  one  of  them  had  to  wait  a 
fortnight.  For  railroad  telegraphing  young  women  are 
better  adapted  than  young  men.  They  are  always  on 
hand,  and  hear  the  first  ticking  of  a  message  passing- 
through  the  instrument.  This  often  prevents  an  accident 
to  a  train.  Young  men  are  apt  to  be  flitting  about  when 


JANUARY  9,  1883. 


HAHPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


155 


waiting  for  a  message  to  arrive,  and  do  not  suit  nearly  so 
well. 

"You  must  come  and  see  the  splendid  arrangements 
we  have  for  teaching  telegraphy.  Pupils  come  to  our 
place,"  he  added,  "  and  behave  themselves  like  gentlemen 
and  ladies.  They  come  because  they  want  to.  For  ten 
years  not  a  single  complaint  of  misconduct  has  been  made 
to  the  trustees  by  any  one  of  our  twenty  or  thirty  teach- 
ers. Nine  boys  whom  we  graduated  are  now  professors 
in  colleges.  An  old  German  called  to  '  tank'  me  the  oth- 
er day  for  his  son's  success.  The  lad,  once  a  pupil  of 
the  Cooper  Institute,  is  now  a  professor  in  the  great  Uni- 
versity of  Berlin,  and  much  esteemed.  So  little  is  written 
about  the  Cooper  Institute  that  people  hardly  know  of  its 
possibilities  and  results.  Every  year  it  instructs  three 
thousand  young  men  and  women.  For  myself,  I  try  to 
keep  the  building  in  good  shape.  I  was  looking  at  my 
books  to-day,  and  I  find  that  I  have  spent  on  it  sl30,000 
in  the  last  two  years." 

To  be  admitted  into  the  schools  of  the  Cooper  Institute 
a  boy  or  girl  must  be  not  younger  than  fifteen  years,  and 
must  be  acquainted  with  the  rudiments  of  reading,  writ- 
ing, and  arithmetic.  Young  people  of  each  sex  can  at- 
tend the  lectures,  and  enter  the  night  school  of  science, 
but  only  young  women  can  enter  the  day  school  of  art. 
there  being  a  night  school  of  art  for  the  young  men.  The 
regular  course  of  instruction  is  five  years,  and  pupils  are 
admitted  by  the  simple  rule  "  first  come  first  served."  the 
preference,  however,  being  for  those  who  express  a  pur- 
pose to  earn  their  living  by  the  instruction  which  they  are 
to  receive,  else  the  classes  would  soon  be  tilled  with  those 
who  do  not  need  the  founder's  bounty.  Last  year  the 
pupils  in  the  Art  School  for  Women  earned  nearly  thir- 
ty thousand  dollars  while  pursuing  their  studies  in  UK; 
Cooper  Institute. 

There  is  room  in  New  York  city  for  several  Cooper  In- 
stitutes.     Of  l.'i'.IT  students  who  last  year  applied  for  ad 
mission  to  the  Art  School  for  Women,  08(5  were  rejected 
because  the  school  was  full,  and  a  similar  state  of  things 
has  existed  for  several  years. 


NAN/ 


BY   MRS.  JOHN'   LILLIE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S  HAIIOAIX,"  "  AUNT  HUTU'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NAN  awoke  early  the  next  morning.  A  stream  of 
light  flooded  her  room ;  everything  looked  bright  and 
inspiring,  and  the  little  girl  ran  down-stairs  gayly  hum- 
ming one  of  Bertie  Rolf's  songs. 

It  was  Saturday ;  except  for  the  exercises  to  be  rewrit- 
ten, there  would  be  no  work ;  and  above  all  reasons  for  joy 
was  the  fact  that  Lance  had  promised  to  come  and  take 
Nan  and  Joan  out  in  his  boat.  Aunt  Letitia's  consent 
was  given.  Nan  needed  nothing  further,  she  believed,  in 
the  way  of  enjoyment,  since  the  sun  had  chosen  to  shine 
out  so  gayly,  and  she  felt  so  happy  since  yesterday,  when 
Aunt  Letty  had  folded  her  in  her  arms  and  let  her  cry 
unrestrainedly  on  her  shoulder. 

"Where  is  Lance  going  to  take  you,  Annice  ?"  her  aunt 
asked  while  they  were  at  breakfast. 

But  Nan  could  not  say;  and  just  then  Lance  himself 
appeared  in  a  flannel  boating  suit. 

"But  where  is  Joan  ?"  Nan  asked. 

"She  had  a  cold, ''said  Lance,  ''and  Phyllis  wouldn't 
hear  of  her  coming.''  The  boy  seemed  to  feel  thoroughly 
at  home.  He  sat  down  at  the  end  of  the  table,  and  asked 
Robert  for  a  glass  of  water,  while  Miss  Roif  offered  him  a 
cutlet  and  some  cakes. 


*  Begun  in  No.  157.  HARPER'S  YODJJG  PEOPLE. 


"No,  thank  you,  Cousin  Letty,"said  Lance;  "I've  had 
my  breakfast.  How  soon  can  Annice  be  ready?" 

Nan  commenced  hurrying  every  mouthful,  until  she 
caught  a  stern  look  from  her  aunt. 

"She  can't  go  for  half  an  hour  after  breakfast,"  said 
the  old  lady.  "Do  you  think  me  crazy,  Lancelot?  The 
idea  of  any  one's  taking  violent  exercise  directly  after 
eating!" 

This  settled  it,  although  a  little  defiant  look  came  be- 
tween Lance's  well-marked  eyebrows  and  around  the 
curves  of  his  handsome  mouth.  Nan  felt  a  trifle  afraid 
that  perhaps  Lance  was  high-tempered.  Certainly  he 
looked  now  as  though  he  was  not  always  the  laughing 
idol  of  the  family  he  had  seemed  to  be  yesterday. 

Breakfast  was  finished  at  last,  and  Lance  followed  Miss 
Rolf  and  Nan  out  into  the  garden,  where  the  old  lady 
sauntered  about  among  her  rose-bushes,  and  Nan  kept  her 
gaze  almost  fixed  upon  the  town  clock,  the  face  of  which 
she  could  see  gleaming  through  the  trees. 

Mrs.  Heriot  appeared  at  a  side  door  to  say  a  word  of  wel- 
come to  Lance,  whose  face  brightened  visibly,  and  Nan 
saw  what  a  favorite  he  was  with  this  old  servant.  Then 
at  last,  with  what  seemed  aggravating  slowness,  the  hands 
of  the  clock  moved  around  to  nine  o'clock.  The  half-hour 
was  over!  Xan  gave  a  little  skip,  and  darted  in  for  her 
shade  hat  and  her  gloves,  and  in  a  few  moments  more, 
after  many  injunctions  from  Aunt  Letty,  she  was  with 
Lance  going  across  fields  at  the  back  of  the  house  to  the 
river. 

Almost  at  once  Lance  said:  "Nan,  your  cousin  Philip 
is  at  our  school." 

''What  /"  ejaculated  Nan. 

"Yes,  "said  Lance.  "He  came  last  week,  and  I  must 
say  he  passed  very  well ;  and  it's  a  shame  we  had  to  break 
up  so  soon." 

"But.  Lance. "said  Nan,  with  a  very  serious  face,  "isn't 
yours  a  very  expensive  school  ?" 

"Of  course,  but" — Lance  shrugged  his  broad  young 
shoulders — "there  he  is,  that's  all  I  know." 

Nan  remained  wonderingly  silent,  but  of  course  she  felt 
full  of  delight,  well  knowing  how  very  much  Philip  had 
desired  a  thorough  classical  education.  What  the  Brom- 
field  public  school  afforded  him  had  never  half  satisfied 
the  lad's  longings.  But  now  he  could  do  what  he  chose. 
Nan  gave  Lance's  hand  a  happy  squeeze. 

"I'm  so  glad!"  she  said,  earnestly.  Lance  nodded,  as 
much  as  to  say  he  appreciated  her  feelings,  and  in  a  few 
moments  they  were  by  the  river-bank,  where  Lance's  boat 
was  moored.  It  was  a  light  little  boat,  with  nice  cush- 
ions and  a  fine  pair  of  oars,  and  its  name  was  Phyllis. 
Lance  seated  Nan  comfortably,  and  asked  her  if  she  knew 
how  to  steer,  and  then  they  pushed  off. 

As  soon  as  they  were  well  under  way  Lance  inquired 
of  Nan,  "  Do  you  want  to  go  and  see  an  old  boat-builder  I 
know  .'" 

Nan  professed  herself  only  too  delighted.  Lance  rowed 
on.  The  river  ran  very  widely  just  here,  and  Nan  many 
years  later  remembered  just  that  moment — the  look  of  the 
clearly  flowing  water,  the  May  sky,  Lance's  strong  young 
figure.  She  felt  more  hopeful  than  she  had  thought  it 
possible  ever  to  be  the  day  before. 

The  boat-builder's  workshop  was  a  roomy  though  rather 
dilapidated  building,  near  the  water's  edge,  just  above  a 
little  bank  of  tangled  greens.  He  kept  a  dozen  boats  for 
hire,  and  these  were  rocking  gently  near  the  bank.  When. 
Lance  pulled  up  and  helped  Nan  out,  the  boatman  came 
to  the  door  of  his  workshop,  and  nodded  pleasantly.  He 
was  a  tall,  grizzled  old  man,  with  a  face  full  of  puck- 
ers, some  of  which  seemed  to  have  gotten  there  by  laugh- 
ing. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Blake  ?"  said  Lance,  pleasantly. 
"  May  I  bring  my  little  cousin  in  to  see  the  boat  you're 
building  '.'' 


156 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"LANCE,   FOLLOWED    BY    XAN,   CARRIED    THE    CHILD. 


"Certain,  certain,"  said  the  old  man;  and  he  turned 
around  and  led  the  way  into  the  shop,  where  a  long  shell 
was  turned  upside  down  on  trestles,  and  which  Lance  ex- 
amined with  delight,  for  he  had  all  a  young  collegian's 
enthusiasm  for  boating.  Nan  looked  on,  interested  in  the 
conversation  which  went  back  and  forth  rapidly  between 
Lance  and  the  old  man.  Then  she  sauntered  back  to  the 
river  door,  where  she  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the  sight 
of  a  little  boy. 

He  was  a  child  apparently  nine  or  ten  years  of  age,  and 
his  face  was  pinched  and  pitiably  haggard.  He-stood  very 
still  near  Lance's  boat,  from  which  he  now  glanced  up 
timidly  at  Nan  in  the  shop  door. 

"Please,"  he  said,  in  a  tired  sort  of  voice,  "  is  there  any 
job  about  I  could  get  ?" 

"Oh!"  said  Nan,  quickly  (her  heart  was  impulsively 
full  of  compassion) .  She  ran  down  nearer  to  the  little  boy, 
who  suddenly  turned  whiter  than  before,  and  staggered 
against  one  of  the  posts  of  the  small  pier. 

"Lance!"  cried  Nan,  so  eagerly  that  her  cousin  darted 
out,  and  with  once  glance  sprang  forward  and  cauglil  the 
boy's  now  fainting  figure, 

Mr.  Blake  was  soon  with  them;  and  after  they  had  re- 
vived the  boy  so  that  he  languidly  opened  his  eyes,  the 


boatman  said:  "It's  hunger  has  done  it. 
Poor  little  chap,  we'll  settle  that.  Corne, 
my  lad,  can  ye  get  as  fur  as  niy  house  ?" 
And  he  jerked  his  head  to  the  right  of  the 
workshop. 

But  the  poor  little  fellow  only  laid  his 
head  back  wearily  against  Lance's  shoul- 
der, and  the  latter  said, 

"I'll  carry  him,  Blake.  He's  as  light 
as  a  feather." 

So  they  made  a  procession  quietly 
through  the  workshop  and  out  across  a, 
bit  of  roadway  to  where  Blake's  cozy, 
old-fashioned  white  cottage  was  stand- 
ing. The  box  walks  smelled  pleasantly, 
and  the  lilac  bushes  were  in  profusion 
near  the  door;  but,  for  all  the  cool  sweet- 
ness of  things,  the  poor  little  boy  showed 
no  interest  in  what  was  being  done  for 
or  with  him.  Lance,  followed  by  Nan, 
carried  the  child  into  the  little  parlor, 
the  door  of  which  Blake  opened  quietly, 
after  which  he  turned  and  called  down 
the  passage.  "  Love  !" 

"Yes,  father,"  came  back  in  cheery 
tones  from  the  kitchen,  and  a  bright-faced, 
tidy  young  girl  of  about  fifteen  appeared. 
Her  father  made  her  understand  very 
quickly  what  had  happened,  Nan  thought, 
for  she  was  upstairs  and  down  again  in  a 
moment,  with  a  pillow  and  a  shawl,  and 
helped  Lance  very  skillfully  as  he  laid 
the  boy  on  the  horse-hair  sofa.  In  an- 
other moment  she  was  back  again  with  a 
glass  of  milk,  with  "just  a  trifle  of  wine 
in  it,"  she  said,  and  a  fresh-looking  roll, 
which  would  have  tempted  any  one. 

But  half  dead  though  he  was  of  star- 
vation, it  seemed  hard  for  the  boy  to  eat. 
He  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  then 
closed  his  eyes  as  if  exhausted.  Blake 
was  questioning  him,  when  his  daugh- 
ter, in  her  gentle,  motherly  way,  lifted  a 
hand,  and  said. 

"Not  now,  father;  wait  a  little.  He 
must  rest  first." 

Nan  thought  she  had  never  heard  a 
sweeter  voice.  It  was  girlish  and  soft, 
but  it  had  in  it  such  womanly  tones  that 
one  wondered  at  her  youth,  for  she  was  plainly  not  old- 
er than  Lance:  indeed,  the  curve  of  her  cheek  was  very 
childish,  and  her  eyes,  though  they  were  quiet,  motherly 
eyes  as  they  looked  at  the  poor  boy.  had  the  peculiar  sweet- 
ness and  innocence  of  a  child. 

"Shall  I  go  for  a  doctor.  Love?"  Blake  asked.  He 
seemed  to  be  full  of  respect  for  his  little  maiden. 

"Well,  yes,  father,  perhaps  you  had  better, "she  said, 
carefully. 

"  I'll  go, "suggested  Lance. 

And  then  Nan  said,  almost  in  Love's  ear,  "Can  I  do 
anything  ?" 

Love  nodded.      "Yes," she  said,  "supposing  you  were 
not  to  mind  helping  me  get  a  better  place  ready  for  him." 
Nan  looked  her  pleasure,  and  Love  added : 
"Father,   will   you   sit    here;     Now  come  with    me, 
please." 

Nan  likBcl  her  gentle  authoritative  ways  very  much. 
She  followed  the  little  mistress  of  the  house  upstairs,  and 
into  a  cool,  clean  room,  evidently  kept  for  company ;  for 
although  the  white  curtains  were  fresh  in  the  windows, 
the  bed  was  only  covered  over  with  pink  netting. 

"Love,  "as  Nan  called  her  in  her  mind,  took  out  her  keys 
and  opened  the  drawers  of  the  old-fashioned  bureau,  from 


JANUARY  9,  1883. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


157 


which  she  took  some  lavender-scented  sheets  and  pillow- 
cases and  a  snowy  counterpane.  Without  any  apologies, 
she  allowed  Nan  to  help  her  make  up  the  hed. 

"Aren't  you  Miss  Rolf's  niece  '."  she  said,  smiling  at 
Nan  across  the  sheet  they  wen-  tucking  in. 

"Yes. "said  Nan;  "and  do  you  keep  house  here  all 
alone  with  your  father  !  and  is  your  name  really  Love  '." 

The  young  girl  laughed.  "Oh."  she  said,  "that's  al- 
ways been  father's  name  for  me.  My  name  is  really  Mar- 
garet. Yes,  I  keep  house  for  father.  Mother  is  an  inva- 
lid; she  never  conies  down-stairs.  There!  for  a  young 
lady,  you  did  very  well." 

Nan  was  about  to  say  she  had  done  house  \\ork  for  two 
years  past,  but  checked  herself  as  Margaret  Blake  ex- 
claimed : 

"There  is  the  doctor!     Young  Mr.  Rolf  was  quick.'' 

The  two  girls  went  down-stairs,  and  found  a  young  due- 
tor  bending  over  the  boy,  who  certainly  looked  a  I  in  le  In  i 
ter.       When    Margaret   told   of  her  preparations    upstairs, 
thedoclor  said  lie  had  better  have  a  warm  bath  and  be  put 
to  bed;  "  that  is,"  he  added,  "if — 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Love,  cheerily;  "of  course  we'll  keep 
him  here  awhile  anyway." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  languid  little  ligure  was  lying 
comfortably  in  a  sweet  smelling  bed.  and  his  neu  I'riends 
were  able  to  learn  something  of  his  hist  or  \  . 

I  le  had  come,  lie  said,  with  his  mother  a  long  way  they 
had  walked  it  nearly  all.  Kince  father  had  died,  and  mo- 


ther been  so  ill,  they  had  nearly  starved ;  but  they  had 
come  here  to  see  the  manager  of  the  Beverley  theatre, 
hoping  mother  could  get  something  to  do. 

"  Had  she  been  on  the  stage  .'"  the  doctor  asked. 

"Oh  yes,"  the  boy  said,  "and  she  heard  the  manager 
here  had  known  father." 

"And  where  is  she  now.  my  boy?" 

"Oh,  she's  down  at  the  theatre,  sir,  waiting  to  see  Mr. 
Burton.  There's  a  matinee  going  on.  I  just  came  along 
the  river  to  see  if  I  couldn't  get  an  odd  job." 

Xaii  listened  with  growing  fascination.  What  would 
Joan  say  to  this!  and  how  more  than  ever  awe-struck  was 
she  when  the  doctor  said: 

"Then  I'll  go  down  to  the  theatre  and  find  her.  And, 
Lance."he  added,  "  will  you  come?  I  may  need  you." 

Lance  was  almost  as  delighted  by  the  novelty  of  the  idea 
as  Nan  had  been  ;  for.  like  all  young  people,  a  theatre,  and, 
above  all,  "behind  the  scenes,"  seemed  to  him  ihe  most 
fascinating  and  mysterious  of  all  places.  He  needed  no 
second  bidding,  and  promising  Nan  that  he  would  send 
word  of  her  whereabouts  to  Aunt  Letitia.  they  started  off. 

Meanwhile.  Nan  sat  by  the  hoy's  bedside,  while  "  Love" 
went  down-stairs  to  the  performance  of  some  household 

duties. 

Nan  looked  at  the  little  white-  sleeping  face,  wondering 
u  hat  he  ci mid  tell  of  that  vaguely  mysterious  and  wholly 
delightful  place — the  theatre. 

[TO   UK    CONTINUED.] 


T1IK   I'INK   oK   I'oLITKNKSS. 

BY  M.  1IKI.KX  I.uVKTT. 


II  K   t:dliir  :md   the  elephant 

Were  going  to  a  ball; 
Tiie  tailor  look  his  goose  along. 

The  elephant    a   shawl. 
The  lailor.  IK. wing,  said.  "Go  first; 

The   road   \\oii 'I   do  for  two." 
"Oli  no."  replied  the  elephant; 

"  I'd   rather  follow  you." 

The  tailor  and  the  elephant 

Stood  bowing  there  till  night; 
For  each  to  take  the  precedence, 

You  see,  was  too  polite. 
The  ball  went  on  without  the  pair. 

Perhaps  I  may  be  wrong, 
But  I  believe  they  kept  their  stand, 

And  staid  there  all  night  long. 


158 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A    NEW-YEARS    CALL    IN    TIIK    WOODS. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

WE  are  very  sorry  to  keep  our  little  corre- 
spondents waiting,  but  the  nimble  pens 
have  been  so  industrious,  and  the  mails  have 
brought  the  Post-office  Box  such  heavy  holiday 
"budgets.  that  we  can  not  help  ourselves.  The 
bright  letters  for  which  we  have  not  room  this 
week  shall  appear  next  week  or  the  week  after; 
so  be  on  the  watch,  children  dear. 

Now,  my  boys  and  girls,  that  we  are  fairly  in 
the  new  year,  let  us  try  to  spend  every  shining 
day  of  it  in  the  best  way  we  can.  I  expect  to 
hear  of  wonderful  things  accomplished  in  the 
way  of  study  after  the  splendid  times  you  have 
had  in  the  way  of  play. 


ROCHRSTKR,  NKW    YoRK. 

I  read  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  like  the  letters  very 
much.  I  am  only  seven  years  of  age,  but  mam- 
ma says  I  may  write  you  a  little  story  about  my 
grandpa,  who  is  dead,aud  call  it 

A  SKETCH  OP  PIONEER  LIFE. 

My  grandpa  lived,  when  a  young  boy.  in  a  little 
log  house  in  what  is  now  Mount  Hope  Cemetery. 
He  wanted  to  go  to  a  party.  His  father  said.  "  if 
you  want,  to  go  to  the  party,  you  must  chop  and 
sell  wood  enough  to  pay  your  way;  and  there  are 
the  oxen  and  sled  to  take  it  to  town  with." 

So  grandpa  went  into  the  woods  in  Mount  Hope, 
and  chopped  a  load  of  wood,  and  [tiled  it  on  the 
sled,  and  drew  it  to  the  city,  and  toward  night  he 
sold  it  to  a  man  ou  Main  Street.  He  carried  the 
wood  upstairs,  and  piled  it  up  in  the  man's  of- 
fice, when  he  got  a  dollar  f or  it.  Before  he  start- 
ed for  home  a  store-keeper  wanted  him  to  do 
some  work  for  him  with  the  oxen,  and  for  that 
the  man  gave  grandpa  a  jug  of  molasses.  Then  he 
started  for  home  about  dark.  He  had  gone  a  lit- 
tle way,  when  he  saw  something  lying  in  the  road. 
He  picked  it  up,  and  found  it  to  be  a  red  hand- 
kerchief full  of  real  nutmegs.  He  was  the  hap- 
piest boy  in  the  country.  He  sang  and  shouted 
all  the  way  home. 

He  had  a  dear  mother  at  home,  just  as  we  nil 
have,  and  she  began  to  worry  about  him  as  it 
grew  dark,  for  there  were  wolves  in  the  woods 
around  Rochester  then,  and  one  time  they  had 
come  close  up  to  the  house  and  barked  or  cried 
in  some  way.  Almost  every  minute  she  would  go 
to  the  door  to  listen.  After  a  while  she  heard 
her  boy  singing  so  merrily  that  she  felt  very  hap- 
py, for  she  knew  he  was  coming,  and  must  have 
had  good  luck.  He  gave  the  molasses  and  nut- 
megs to  his  mothtr,  but  kept  the  dollar. 


His  mother  said,  "  Daniel.  I  have  a  present  for 
you,"  and  brought  out  a  nice  long  pair  of  warm 
woollen  stockings,  with  white  toes  and  heels  and 
tops,  for  him  to  dance  in  the  next  night,  just 
such  stockings  as  Uncle  Josh  Whiteomb  dances 
iu  when  everybody  laughs  so.  and  grandpa  and 
everybody  danced  just  so  too.  FIDE. 

A  very  good  letter  indeed  for  the  first  effort  of 
a  little  girl  of  seven,  as  Fide's  papa  testifies  that 
this  is.  

Our  next  epistle  is  from  a  young  lady  who,  for 
her  age,  has  been  a  great  traveller : 

TORONTO,  CANADA. 

I  do  lovo  you  so.  dear  YOUNG  PEOPLE  !  I  delight 
in  you.  I  have  five  dolls  ;  their  names  are  Ber- 
tha Georgina  Louisa,  Lillian  Alice  Isabella,  Ber- 
tram! Arthur  Christopher,  Minny  Idela  Etta,  and 
Carolina  Lavinia  christolena.  I  have  also  for 
other  pets  two  little  ponies  called  Pegasus  and 
Handy  Andy,  a  greyhound  (Attica  is  his  name), 
a  darling  little  toy  dog  called  Frills,  and  four 
cats— Lady  Franklin.  Mile.  Rhea  (called  that  be- 
cause she  was  born  when  I  first  saw  that  lady), 
ivter  Piper,  and  Noah,  which  is  twelve  years  old. 

I  am  an  only  child,  and  am  a  great  pet.  A  pret- 
ty thing  may 'be  made  out  of  a' horseshoe.  First 
paint  the  shoe  black,  and  by  putting  card-board 
in  behind  it.  with  a  round  hole  cut  in  it.  your  pic- 
ture may  be  put  iu  nicely ;  cover  the  card-board 
with  velvet,  plush,  silk,  or  any  other  pretty  ma- 
terial. I  have  been  to  England.  Scotland,  Ire- 
land, France.  Italy,  Greece,  Egypt.  India,  and  Chi- 
na. I  am  thirteen  years  old,  and  was  born  iu 
New  York  city.  AGNES  ESLE  N. 


SAN  Josft,  CAMFOKMA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  went  to 
Fresno  a  good  while  ago ;  if  is  about  200  miles  I  nun 
here.  Before  we  started  we  had  a  little  cat  and 
dog.  We  gave  the  kitten  away.  The  dog  was 
just  a  little  ball  of  cnrls.  and  we  took  him  with 
us.  Some  time  I  am  going  to  write  a  story  about 
tlif<]o<:.  My  father  was  already  at  Fresno.  We 
boarded  at  a  hotel.  My  uncle  lived  there.  Ik- 
had  two  boys  and  one  girl ;  they  lived  in  the 
country.  Then,  after  a  while,  we  had  our  own 
house  built,  and  lived  iu  it.  I  went  to  the  coun- 
try very  often  to  see  my  cousins. 

We  had  a  cat.  and  she  had  four  little  ones  ;  one 
died.  We  kept  them  under  the  house,  and  one 
night  a  cannibal  eat  ate  another  one  up.  We 
had  lived  iu  our  house  for  three  months,  and  one 
Sunday,  when  we  were  out  to  our  place  in  the 
country,  we  saw  smoke.  We  went  to  town  just 
as  fast  as  the  horses  could  run.  When  we  got 
there  many  houses  were  burning,  aud  our  house 


burned  just  as  we  got  there,  and  five  blocks  were 
swept  away.  Then  we  came  back  to  San  Jose  to 
live.  I  am  not  going  to  write  any  more. 

BEISTUA  B. 

NURSERY  RHYMES. 

BY   PHIL   ROBINSON. 

A  little  snail  crept  up  a  wall — 

Poppety.  poppety  can  ; 
And  from  the  top  he  down  did  fall — 

Oh  !  poppety,  poppety  can. 
And  let  him  creep,  and  let  him  crawl, 
He'll  never  get  to  the  top  at  all; 
1'or  he's  so  small  and  the  wall's  so  tall, 

Poor  poppety,  poppety  can't. 

Higgledy-piggledy — one,  two,  three, 

Here's  a  butterfly  come  to  tea, 

Bringing  with  her  a  buinble-bee. 

Tln'v  found  some  jam  in  a  buttercup, 

And  the  bee  and  the  butterfly  gobbled  it  up, 

And  when  they'd  done  they'd  got  no  more — 

Higgledy-piggledy— two,  three,  tour. 

Meat  :  meat!  the  cat's-meat  man— 
liun  away,  pussy,  as  fast  as  you  can. 
Some  of  it  lean, 
Some  of  it  fat. 
Some  for  the  kitten, 
Some  for  the  cat. 

A  mouse  looked  up  from  a  hole  in  the  floor, 

And  saw  two  kittens  at  play  ; 
The  mouse  didn't  stay  to  see  any  more, 

And  the  kittens  they  went  away. 

Dicky  bird,  Dicky  bird,  up  in  the  cage, 
Tell  me,  I  pray  you,  what  is  your  age? 
Four,  did  you  say '!    Why.  you're  older  than  me, 
For  I  am  only  just  turned  three. 
.With,  your., beak-  aud  your- tuts  and  your  fea- 
thers and  all, 
You're  still,  for  your  age,  little  Dick,  very  small. 

Buzz,  said  the  busy  bee;  buzz,  said  the  fly, 
Aren't  we  working  hard,  you  and  I? 
Yes,  said  the  bee,  you  buzz  as  much  as  I  do. 
But  as  lor  making  honey,  what  can  a  fly  do* 

These  pretty  rhymes  were  made  by  the  author 
in  just  a  half-hour  by  the  clock,  the  prize  he  gain- 
ed for  them  being  a  lump  of  sugar.  Don't  you 
all  think  he  deserved  several  lumps?  I  do. 


FOR  THE  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

OKANGE  SNOW-BALLS.— Boil  some  rice  for  ten 
minutes,  drain,  and  let  it  cool;  pare  some  oranges, 
removing  the  thick  white  skin ;  spread  the  rice, 
in  as  many  portions  as  there  are  oranges,  on  some 
dumpling  cloths ;  tie  the  fruit  separately  in  these, 
surrounded  by  the  rice,  and  boil  the  balls  for  an 
hour ;  turn  them  carefully  on  a  dish,  and  sprinkle 
with  sifted  sugar;  serve  with  sweetened  cream. 

SAUCE. — A  little  butter  aud  sugarbeaten  smooth- 
ly ;  a  spoonful  of  corn  starch  cooked  in  two  cup- 
fuls  of  boiling  water.  Flavor  with  orange  juice. 

CAKE-MAKING.— Have  everything  ready  before 
you  begin ;  all  your  materials  measured  and 
weighed,  and  your  tins  buttered.  The  sooner 
you  mix  the  cake  and  put  it  into  the  oven  the 
better,  after  everything  is  ready.  Sift  the  flour 
three  times  for  delicate  cakes ;  roll  the  sugar ;  mix 
baking-powder  or  cream  of  tartar,  when  used, 
with  the  dry  flour,  passing  it  through  the  sieve; 
beat  eggs  very  well,  the  yolks  and  whites  sepa- 
rately :  add  soda  the  last  thing,  if  that  is  in  the 
receipt,  dissolving  it  iu  milk  or  in  warm  water ; 
bake  in  a  rather  moderate  oven  at  tirst,  so  that 
the  batter  will  be  evenly  heated  through;  in- 
crease the  heat  after  the  first  ten  minutes. 

GINGERBREAD.— A  half-pint  of  molasses  ;  a  half- 
pint  of  boiling  water  ;  butter  the  size  of  an  egg ; 
a  tea-spoonful  of  ground  cloves,  the  same  of  cin- 
namon, of  ground  ginger,  and  baking  soda ;  a  half- 
pound  of  flour.  Make  this  cake  in  tins  manner: 
first  put  the  butter,  partly  melted,  into  the  mo- 
lasses ;  then  add  the  spices  ;  stir  this  into  the 
flour ;  dissolve  the  soda  in  boiling  water,  and  pour 
it  iu.  Never  use  cream  of  tartar  with  molasses. 

Girls  who  have  receipts  for  either  soft  or  hard 
gingerbread  may  send  them  to  the  Postmistress. 


N«w  YORK  CITV. 

I  have  not  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very 
long,  but  I  like  it  so  very  much  I  think  I  shall  con- 
tin  in- to  take  it.  I  wrote  a  little  Christmas  story 
not  long  ago,  and  I  thought  I  would  send  it  to 
you.  I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  go  to  school.  I 
like  the  Post-office  Box  very  much.  Here  is  my 
story.  Please  print  it.  JOSIE  V.  N. 

LITTLE  NELL'S  CHRISTMAS. 

It  was  the  (lav  before  Christinas.  The  snow 
was  falling  thick  and  fast,  covering  the  ground 
with  a  soft  whiteness  which  looked  like  fur. 

Little  Nell  stood  at  the  window  watching  the 
snow,  and  flattening  her  nose  against,  the  win- 
dow-pane, whii-h  was  cracked  in  two  places.  She 
knew  that  many  were  buying  gifts  which  would 


JANUARY  9,  3S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


159 


give  pleasure  to  those  receiving  them ;  but  she 
felt  sure  she  wouldn't  get  anything  in  her  stock- 
ing, nr  have  any  to  give  her  mother  or  her  little 
brother  Ben. 

Nell  was  eight  years  old,  and  Ben  was  five. 
They  had  no  father.  Imt  the  mother  did  all  she 
could  to  make  the'  children  comfortable,  and  hap- 
py. Imt  not  much  could  be  bought  with  her  small 

e*"n  spite  of  the  cold,  little  Nell  put  on  her  little 
red  hood  and  shawl,  and  went  out  to  see  it  she 
couldn't  do  something  to  earn  money  for  her 

Into  the  cold  halls,  and  down  the  long  pairs 
of  stairs  and  out  into  the  streetshe  went.  After 
walking  for  nearly  two  hours  without  getting  a 
penny,  she  thought  she  would  go  home. 

••  Hut  first  I  will  look  in  the  store  windows,  and 
then  -it  down. "she  said. 

She  looked,  but  the  many  good  things  she  saw 
made-  her  turn  away,  for  there  wen-  so  many 
(lolls. di ills'  h< ui.-es, horses, sleds, etc..  that  it  made 
her  l,,ii"  for  them  ;  but  she  was  so  tired  that  she 
sal  do«n.  and  blew  her  little  fingers  to  make 
them  warm. 

At  last,  looking  up.  she  saw  ji  lady  and  I 
girl  looking  at  her,  and  stepping  forward,  the  lady 
said  :  "My  child  you  will  freeze.    You  had  better 

•Then  Nell  said.  "Oh,  but  I  have  no  Christmas 

present  for  mother," 

"Come  with  me-,  child,  and  I  will  buy  some 
things  for  your  mother.  Where  do  you  live  •?" 

"1  live  in  Mudl'ort  Street,  and  we  only  have 
enough  to  live  on.  and  sometimes  we  are  hungry 
ami  cold.  I  am  looking  for  something  to  do  to 
earn  money,  for  to-morrow's  Christmas,  anil  we 
will  have  nothing  to  eat." 

The  lady  looked  at  her  blue  hands  and  face, 
and  said,  "  Come  into  this  store,  and  1  will  buy- 
some  gloves  for  you." 

Nell" followed,  and  before  long  found  herself 
near  home,  with  new  mittens,  hood,  and  shawl, 
and  a  great  many  bundles.  When  she  arrived 
home  her  mother  was  there,  and  the  lady  talked 
to  her  mother,  while  Flora,  the  little  girl,  played 
with  Nell.  The  next  day  was  a  happy  one  for 
Nell,  but  pleasanter  for  Flora  and  her  mother. 
Who  hail  gladly  given  a  few  gifts,  and  made  the>e 
hearts  glad.  Ben  was  happy  with  a  warm  coat 
anil  hat.  and  before  long  was  coasting  on  a  new- 
Bled.  Nell  was  happy  with  dolls, also  her  mother, 
and  I  think  Flora  ami  her  mother  had  made  it  a 
very  "  Merry  Christmas." 

A  very  pretty  story  it  is  for  one  of  your  age  to 
have  written. 


Sri-ing  so   much    said  in  the   Post-office  |:..\ 

aliolll  eats.  I  write  this  letter  to  tell  about  some 
cats  I  am  acquainted  with.  We  are  the  owners 
of  live  of  these  domestic  pets-three  kittens  and 
two  large  cats.  They  do  all  manner  of  si  range 
things,  such  as  jumping  through  panes  of  glass, 
lying  down  in  a  band  box  for  a  nap.  drinking  the 
milk  in  the  morning,  and  other  odd  performances. 
Our  cats  can  also  sing,  after  a  fashion,  quite 
sweetly. 

A  strange  cat,  with  yellow  fur, and  blind  in  one 
eye.  got  into  our  house  the  other  night  by  climbing 
out  lie  roof  of  our  porch  and  jumping  through  the 
window  pane,  knocking  down  a  favorite  lily  in 
her  descent,  and  making  a  tine  racket.  We  were 
all  down  stairs,  and  could  not  imagine  what  was 
the  matter.  1  went  upstairs,  with  my  inol  her  and 
brother  following  me,  the  latter  shouting  wildly 
all  the  way,  scaring  the  poor  cat,  whieh  came 
tearing  down  at  a  furious  rate  to  the  parlor,  she 
climbed  up  the  Christmas  tree,  where  she  staid 
for  a  minute,  and  then  fell  down,  Jip,  our  dog, 
going  for  her.  and  sending  her  up  the  lace  curtain, 
tearing  it  considerably. 

We  thought  the  eat  had  gone  wild.  Then  .Tip 
chased  her  upstairs.  My  aunt  tried  to  put  her 
out.  but  she  ran  up  her  dress  and  over  her  back, 
down-stairs,  and  out  in  the  kitchen.  Jip  and  I 
running  after  her  at  full  speed.  There  pussy  ran 
into  the  closet,  and  climbed  up  in  the  top  shelf  of 
the  dresser,  out  of  reach,  but  sending  a  shower 
of  red  pepper  after  her.  which  gave  us  a  small 
dose,  and  herself  a  little  too  much  for  her  com- 
fort. 

siie  jumped  down  on  .Tip's  back,  and  Jip  ran 
out  in'the  yard,  where  poor  pussy  dropped  off. 
giving  several  long  howls,  as  if  to  call  her  sisters 
anil  her  cousins  and  her  aunts.  She  then,  with  a 
tierce  expression,  gave  a  tremendous  leap  over 
the  buck  feuce,  and  we  saw  her  no  more. 

HERBERT. 

Are  you  a  far-away  relative  of  our  little  friend 
Jimmy  Brown.  Herbert?  I  suspect  so.  I  fear 
this  strange  story  of  the  yellow  cat  is  a  romance, 
and  indeed  I  hope  so,  for  if  it  were  true,  how  sor- 
ry 1  would  feel  for  a  poor  frightened  wretch  pur- 
sued all  over  unknown  premises  by  quick-footed 
hunters  like  Jip  and  you  ! 

CIVCIVNVTI,  Omr,. 

I  have  been  a  subscriber  ever  since  your  paper 
began.  I  think  it  is  the  best  one  I  ever  saw.  It 
is  instructive  to  old  and  young.  Our  principal 
came  into  our  school -room  the  day  before 
Thanksgiving,  and  began  to  talk  about  what  nice 
papers  lie  read.  Some  of  the  scholars  told  him 
the  papers  they  took.  I  got  up  and  told  him  that 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  was  the  best  paper  in 
the  world.  He  said.  "Oh  yes,  I  take  it."  The 
Jimmy  Brown  stories  make  me  laugh.  I  like  all 
the  stories  and  letters  in  the  paper.  I  have  a  sis- 
ter and  two  brothers.  We  take  turns  about  e\  ery 

year.    The  first  volume  my  sister  had  ;  thesei f, 

my  oldest  brother ;  the  third,  myself :  the  fourth 
is  my  sister's  turn,  my  cither  brother  being  to,, 
youmr.  He  is  only  a  year  old.  I  will  be  very 
thunkful  to  any  one  who  will  tell  me  how  to  take 
the  outside  coating  off  shells  and  polish  them.  I 
am  making  a  collection  of  specimens,  and  am 
saving  money  to  buy  a  cabinet.  I  am  thirteen 
years  of  age.  KAPHAEL  WEST  K. 

Although  we  have  a  Housekeepers'  Sociable 
here  for  the  little  girls,  it  is  not  our  intention  to 
give  them  all  the  space  in  the  Post-office  Box. 
We  want  their  wide-awake  brothers  to  exchange 
ideas  and  bits  of  information  as  well  as  enri.  Ci- 
ties and  postage  stamps.  Which  young  miner- 
alogist will  be  first  to  answer  Raphael,  and  tell 
him  how  to  polish  shells!1 


OAKLAKD,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  some  hair-pin  cushions 
I  make.  They  are  made  over  1  lie  boxes  on  which 
ribbon  comes.  The  dr\ -  i.-oods  merchants  thmw 
them  away  when  the  ribbon  i^  sold.  The  si/.e 
can  be  made  to  suit  any  fancy;  I  made  mine 
about  three  or  lour  inches  across  the  top.  ^  on 
crochet  a  single  loop,  stitch  around  and  around 
until  it  covers  the  top  of  your  box.  widening  all 
the  lime.  Then  yon  stop  widening,  and  it  will 
turn  down  like  a  skull-cap.  Keep  on  until  it 
reaches  the  bottom  of  the  box  Then  widen 
again,  and  crochet  on  the  wrong  side  ;  this  will 
make  it  curl  over  like  the  brim  of  a  hat.  Then 
get  some  hair,  such  as  they  sniff  tnruiture  with, 
to  lill  your  box.  Fit  the  hat  over  the  box.  and 

lie  a  pie t  narrow  ribbon  around  the  crown. 

and  tlie  hair-pin  cushion  is  finished.  Two  ouin-es 
of  worsted  will  make  three  hats,  and  a  quarter  of 
a  yard  of  ribbon  will  go  around  one  hat. 

DAISY  H. 


BLOOMIMJBIT.,;,  Out". 

We  had  a  present  of  a  small  turtle  a  few  weeks 
ago.  and  would  like  you  to  ask  llic  other  cm-re 
spondents  hOW  tO  give  it  t  he  very  best  care.  The 
dear  auntie  who  ga\e  it  to  us  >aid  she  had  kept 
il  a  \ear  in  llereinber.  and  ted  it  Hies  and  fresh 
meat.  II  is  about  two  and  a  half  inches  across 
the  hard-shell  back  ;  lias  a  red  edge  underneath  ; 
the  head  resembles  a  snake's  ;  it  has  a  big  mouth, 
yellow  spots,  and  little  bits  of  eves.  We  call  it 
I'retty  lioy,  and  it  allows  mamma  to  handle  it, 
takes  bits  of  meat  from  her  hand,  and  conies  up 
to  I  h-'  top  of  i  he  w  aler  when  called. 

The  other  day  mamma  looked  into  the  can- 
dy i.ir.  \\hen  away  went  I'retty  Boy,  under  llic 
rock-  and  into  the 'mud.  show  ing  great  fear.  We 
thought  it  was  frightened  at  mamma's  dusting 
cap.  Is  hard  or  suit  water  best,  can't  we  get 
more  variety  of  food  for  it,  to  what  family  does 
it  belong,  and  does  the  shell  ever  soften,  or  is 
it  because  ot  lack  of  excrel-e  ' 

Two  little  lovers  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE, 
DORA  and  AMY. 

Will  somebody  who  has  had  experience  write 
very  soon,  and  tell  Dora  and  Amy  all  about  their 
turtle  and  how  to  care  for  it? 


BHOOKFIRLB,  NEW  YORK. 

I  have  taken  HARPER'S  Yoi  XG  PEOPLE  since  the 
fifty-third  number,  and  like  it  very  much.  I  was 
sick  Thanksgiving,  so  I  could  not  attend  church, 
but  my  mother  bought  some  oysters,  and  my 
cousin  (who  seems  almost  like  a  brother  to  me) 
and  his  wife  and  two  little  hoys  ate  dinner  with 
us.  I  am  not  very  strong.  I  had  scarlet  fever 
when  two  years  old),  ami  that  partially  paralyzed 
the  inmt  muscles  of  my  right  limb,  so  I  can  not 
run  like  other  boys,  but  have  to  be  content  with 
more  quiet  pleasures.  When  twelve  years  old  I 
had  bronchitis,  and  now  I  am  thirteen. 

I  remember  a  little  girl  who  wrote  you  that  she 
could  not  walk,  she  is  worse  off  than  I  am.  I 
have  a  kind  father  and  mother.  About  three 
years  ago  my  father  took  mo  with  him  to  West 
Virginia.  We  went  through  Scranton, Philadel- 
phia, and  Baltimore,  and  stopped  a  short  time  in 
Washington,  where  we  went  into  the  senale- 
Cliamber.  I  saw  the  Cheat  Mountains,  and  went 
through  tunnels  from  half  a  mile  to  a  mile  in 
length. 

We  have  an  excellent  graded  school  here.  I 
am  in  the  Intermediate  Department,  and  have  a 
splendid  teacher.  Miss  E.  S.  S.  Our  principal  is 
Professor  L.  B.  B.  Miss  c.  is  the  teacher  in  the 
Primary.  1  like  the  stories  of  "Toby  Tyler," 
" The  Cruise  of  the  •  Ghost,'  "and  "  Phil's  Fairies" 
very  much.  WILLIE  J.  T. 

1  trust  you  were  well  enough  to  enjoy  Christ- 
inas and  New-Year's  better  than  you  did  Thanks- 
giving-day, Willie. 

I  hope  no  boy  who  reads  the  Post-office  Box 
needs  to  be  warned  never  to  play  with  that  dan- 
gerous little  weapon,  the  toy  pistol.  A  few  days 


ago  three  children  were  playing  happily  together 
in  New  York,  expecting  in  a  few  minutes  to  set 
out  on  a  merry  holiday  excursion.  Suddenly  then- 
was  a  terrified  scream.  A  boy  aged  twelve  bad 
accidentally  shot  his  little  girl  friend  and  une.-t 
with  a  toy  pistol,  the  tiny  bullet  lodging  in  her 
brain.  Do  not  keep  such  perilous  playthings  in 
your  possession,  my  boy  friends. 


To  THE  WIGGLERS.— Somany  of  the  little  artists 
who  send  us  Wiggles  reside  at  such  long  dis- 
tances from  New  York  city  that  their  communi- 
cations do  not  arrive  until  after  "  Our  Artist"  is 
ready  to  make  up  his  page.  In  order,  therefore, 
that  these  far-distant  Wigglers  may  have  a  chance 
to  appear  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  it  has  been  decided 
to  give  but  half  a  page  of  any  new  Wiggle  at  a 
time,  the  upper  half  being  devoted  to  examples  of 
the  preceding  Wiggle  which  were  received  too 
late  to  be  included  in  the  former  page.  Thus  on 
our  sixteenth  page  will  be  found  drawings  one- 
half  of  which  represent  Wiggle  No.  39,  while  the 
other  half  represent  Wiggle  No.  30.  We  should  be 
glad  to  receive  the  addresses  of  E.  B.  Wall  aud 
L.  W.  Hanson,  who  have  been  successful  in  repro- 
ducing our  artist's  idea  of  Wiggle  No.  29. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

TWO   EASY   HALF  SQUARES. 

l.—l.  To  remain  stationary,  a.  A  beginner.  3. 
Skill.  4.  Denial.  5.  A  letter.  NJIII.AX. 

3.— 1.  To  walk.  2.  A  garment.  3.  A  prefix.  4. 
A  pronoun.  5.  A  letter.  J.  M.  ILES. 


No.  •,'. 

DOUBLE   ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  measure.  •_'.  A  city  in  Russia.  3.  The  last 
name  of  a  Spanish  discoverer.  4.  A  girl's  name. 
Primals  form  the  name. 


No.  3. 

ACROSTIC. 

1.  An  instrument  for  cutting  slate.  3.  An  ad- 
jective. 3.  A  period.  4.  A  color.  5.  Part  of  the 
body.  6.  A  number.  7.  A  nickname.  Centrals 
spell  a  country  in  Africa.  A.  A.  T. 


No.  4. 

TWO  SQUARE   WORDS. 

1. — 1.  A  speck.  2.  A  parent.  3.  A  gem.  4.  Not 
small. 

2. — 1.  Comparisons  of  speed.  2.  Light  and  nim- 
ble. 3.  Polite.  4.  A  girl's  name.  5.  A  musical 
stop. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  1C3. 

No.  1.  A 

AXE 

A  X  I  O  M 

AX  I  L  L  A  K 

E  O  L  I  C 

MAC 

R 


F 

A  1{  E 

FREAK 

E  A  K 

K 


C 

TAR 

CARAT 

RAT 

T 


No.  2. 
No.  3. 


No.  4. 


Washington. 

LABEL 
T  t  N  O  R 
DIVER 
J  E  W  E  L 
RAZOR 


A    M    Y 


A 
C  O  N  V 


W  A 
O  R 
T 


R 
E 
E 
N  C  E  D 


I  N  D  E  N  T  U  R  E 
PARALLELS 
CONS  U  L  A  T  E 

ATE 

SHE 

T     E    A 

ERA 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Albert  Stone,  John  Burr,  Tom  Paxton,  Ru- 
die  F.,  A.  B.  C..  Daisy  Dean.  Dora  Mott,  Amy  Els- 
path  Wade.  Fannie  Frickenhaus,  A.  Blooming- 
dale,  Dorville  s.  Coe,  Elizabeth  and  Alice  St.  S. 
Weil,  B.  L.  J.,  C.  J..  "  North  Star,"  "  Princess  El- 
sie," Bessie  P.,  Molly, Bettic. and  Snkie  Coxe,  Al- 
gerine  Ross,  Maurice  Reinheimcr,  Harry  J.,  Wal- 
ter Rose,  Aliie  Dayton,  Grace  Harmer. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


160 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


£m 

..-.    ~'~    '     X-  VVr  •  .-'•.'•       S  '  .       .  • 


SOME    ANSWERS    TO    WIGGLES   Nos.  29    AND    30,  AND   NEW    WIGGLE,  No.  31.— [SEE  PAGE  159.] 


YOUNG  PEOPLE! 


ILLUSTRATED 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  168. 


PUBLISHED  i:v   IIAKI'Ki;  A-   MIJOTHKRS.  NK\\   YORK. 


riilfE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  January  It!,  IHffl. 


Copyright,  I--  :,  by   lUkrii  A  BKUTHKKS. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


JACK,  THE  BUTCHER'S  DOG. 

BY  W.  M.  CARY. 

JACK  was  a  good-natured  dog,  and  though  some  of  the 
children  in  the  neighborhood  were  afraid  of  him,  and 
would  run  home  when  they  saw  him  coming,  he  was 
really  very  kind  and  amiable,  and  only  full  of  fun  and 
fond  of  play. 

One  bright,  chilly  morning1,  seeing  a  little  boy  dragging 
his  sister  on  a  sled,  Jack  concluded  to  have  some  of  the 
fun  himself,  so  he  rushed  out,  grasped  the  rope  of  the  sled 
inhis  mouth,  pulled  it  from  the  boy's  hand,  and  tore  down 
the  street  as  fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him.  The  little 
girl  screamed  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  and  made  a  great  ef- 
fort to  keep  her  place  011  the  sled,  but  Jack  ran  so  fast 
that  at  last  she  was  upset,  and  rolled  over  into  a  snow-drift, 

Jack  returned  to  the  butcher's  shop  dragging  the  sled, 
and  left  it  at  the  door.  He  seemed  to  be  delighted  with 


what  he  had  done,  and  often  performed  the  same  trick 
afterward.  At  last  the  older  boys  of  the  neighborhood 
would  send  one  of  their  number — usually  the  smallest  of 
the  party — past  the  store  with  a  sled  on  purpose  to  bring 
Jack  out.  Jack  always  came  with  a  rush,  and  seized  the 
rope,  while  the  boys  would  jump  on  the  sled,  and  Jack 
would  drag  the  whole  party. 

One  day  so  many  boys  got  on  the  sled,  and  made  it  so 
heavy,  that  Jack  evidently  thought  the  joke  was  getting 
tiresome,  so  he  dropped  the  rope,  and  with  much  dignity 
walked  home. 

This  seemed  to  cure  him  of  his  fancy  for  dragging  sleds. 
Often  the  boys  would  send  a  little  sister  past  the  butcher's 
shop  with  a  sled  to  tempt  Jack.  But  it  was  of  no  use; 
Jack  would  have  nothing  further  to  do  with  the  business. 


162 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FLORID   AND    PLORELLA. 

a  djrfstmns  Jfairn  JTale. 

BY  MRS.  W.  J.  HAYS. 

III. 

AGAIN  the  summer-time  had  come,  with  all  its  warmth 
and  beauty.  The  fairies  were  thronging  all  the  wild- 
wood  one  lovely  summer  evening,  when  a  tall,  handsome 
lad,  with  light,  quick  tread  and  merry  glancing  eyes,  en- 
tered the  woods,  followed  by  a  red  fox,  and  boldly  shout- 
ed, "Florella!  Florella!"  making  the  woods  ring-  with  his 
voice. 

You  would  not  have  supposed  that  this  could  be  the 
same  boy  whose  sobbing  aroused  Florella's  compassion, 
the  poor,  trembling  little  creature,  spiritless  and  unhap- 
py, who  had  hardly  dared  to  say  his  name  was  Florio. 
But  so  it  was ;  and  when  he  called  so  loudly  in  his  cheery 
voice,  Florella  quickly  came  forth  from  the  sweet-brier 
bush  and  stood  before  him. 

Doffing  the  cap  which  covered  his  curly  pate,  and  bend- 
ing one  knee,  Florio  presented  without  words  the  small 
plant  which  he  had  guarded  with  the  utmost  care. 

A  look  of  gracious  sweetness  came  into  the  fairy's  face, 
and  she  examined  the  flowers  with  the  eye  of  one  accus- 
tomed to  look  at  things  closely.  Having  assured  herself 
that  it  was  the  desired  plant,  she  turned  to  her  assistants 
and  invited  them  to  examine  it  also.  All  agreed  that  it 
was  the  far-famed  Edelweiss,  and  there  was  a  great  flut- 
tering of  wings,  and  soft  exclamations  of  delight  and  ex- 
cited surprise,  until  Florella  with  a  gentle  wave  of  her 
hand  commanded  silence. 

"  Now,  young  knight  of  our  fair  domain,"  she  said,  ad- 
dressing Florio,  "give  me  some  account  of  your  journey- 
ing, for  not  only  have  you  done  all  that  I  desired,  but 
more:  here  are  not  only  seeds,  but  flowers  and  root.  I 
pray  you  be  seated  while  I  listen." 

Florio  had  learned  to  be  mannerly,  so  with  cap  in  hand 
he  only  leaned  against  a  beech-tree,  and  began : 

"When  you  bade  me  depart  with  that  dreadful  old  Fuss, 
dear  lady,  my  heart  failed  me  entirely,  and  I  thought  I 
should  not  be  able  to  do  your  bidding.  So  long  had  I 
been  used  to  her  cruel  power  that  the  thought  of  opposing 
her  filled  me  with  alarm ;  but  curiously  enough  the  very 
night  I  hastened  from  you  to  the  miserable  cavern  we  call- 
ed home,  a  young  fox  followed  me,  and  unknown  to  me 
slept  by  my  side.  When  I  awoke,  the  witch  was  prepar- 
ing for  her  journey,  for  on  her  back  and  by  her  side  she 
carried  bags  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  with  everything  in 
them  that  could  do  mischief.  In  one  was  snuff,  in  anoth- 
er was  pepper,  and  in  a  third  was  mustard,  and  in  all  were 
flinty  pebbles  and  bits  of  glass.  Some  of  these  were  for 
people's  eyes,  and  some  for  their  feet,  and  she  had  hardly 
room  for  the  mouldy  old  crusts  and  pieces  of  cheese  which 
furnished  us  with  food. 

' '  As  soon  as  she  saw  the  fox,  which  I  was  petting  with 
delight,  she  made  a  pass  at  it  with  her  stick,  which  I  am 
sure  would  have  killed  it  had  I  not  caught  the  blow. 
The  little  fellow  sprang  from  my  arms  and  bit  her  heel, 
which  made  her  so  very  angry  that  I  had  to_run  for  my 
life,  but,  strange  to  say,  after  that  he  was  my  only  protec- 
tion. 

"Although  she  bade  me  drown  him,  and  although  I,  re- 
membering your  commands,  disobeyed  her,  she  did  not 
dare  come  near  me  when  I  had  him  in  my  arms.  Day 
after  day  he  followed  me,  night  after  night  he  slept  beside 
me,  and  though  I  had  fewer  beatings,  old  Fuss  watched 
me  closely ;  she  seemed  to  know  that  I  wanted  to  get  away 
from  her. 

"We  toiled  along  on  the  road-sides  begging  from  house 
to  house. 

"At  last  one  day  we  came  to  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water, 
blue  and  sparkling  in  the  sunshine.  Everywhere  I  went 
I  had  gathered  flowers — sometimes  they  were  only  weeds 


such  as  dandelions  and  daisies,  but  here  on  the  banks  of 
this  lovely  lake  I  found  the  sweetest  blossoms.  From  ev- 
ery one  I  had  tried  to  learn  the  names  of  the  plants,  but 
it  was  a  very  difficult  matter,  for  half  the  time  they  mis- 
understood my  signs,  and  supposed  I  was  only  making 
game  of  them ;  besides,  when  Fuss  came  up  with  her  horri- 
ble jargon,  every  one  was  so  disgusted  that  he  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  me. 

"But  every  day  I  repeated  as  a  lesson  the  one  word 
'  Edelweiss,'  and  whenever  I  had  the  chance  I  would  say 
this  to  a  stranger.  Generally  they  took  no  notice — some- 
times they  would  smile  and  point  to  the  mountain-peaks 
before  us. 

"The  day  we  reached  the  lake.  Fuss  was  in  one  of  her 
ugliest  moods:  she  had  not  received  a  penny  from  any 
passer-by,  and  she  had  not  been  able  to  make  a  young 
boatman  quarrel  with  his  companions,  although  she  had 
sprinkled  pepper  about  until  they  were  all  sneezing  as  if 
they  were  crazy.  I  was  weary  and  disconsolate,  sitting 
paddling  in  the  water,  and  the  fox  was  not  by  me,  having 
run  after  a  rat  that  had  crawled  from  the  wreck  of  an  old 
unused  craft.  Without  a  word  of  warning,  Fuss  came  up 
behind  me  and  gave  me  a  push. 

"  Over  I  went  into  the  water,  head  and  heels  both  sub- 
merged. Strangling,  puffing,  battling  for  my  life,  I  rose 
to  the  surface.  I  had  fallen  just  where  the  water  was 
shallow,  but  where  grasses  and  water-plants  so  entangled 
my  feet  that  I  could  not  swim,  and  should  certainly  have 
been  drowned  had  not  one  of  the  boatmen  thrown  me  a 
rope  and  drawn  me  to  the  shore. 

'  '  Hang  her !'  '  Drown  her  for  an  old  witch  !'  were  the 
exclamations  I  heard  from  the  rough  by-standers,  and 
also,  'Take  her  to  the  jail  at  Geneva.'  This  aroused  me. 
Now  I  knew  the  name  of  the  fine  town  toward  which  so- 
many  were  wending  their  way. 

'When  you  get  to  Geneva, 
Then  you  must  leave  her.' 

"Oh,  joy!  Then  I  need  no  longer  follow  my  dreadful 
guide!  And  there  were  people  about  who  spoke  English. 

"As  soon  as  I  could  discover  who  these  English  people 
were  I  made  inquiries  of  them,  and  found  they  were  serv- 
ants of  some  persons  travelling  in  their  own  conveyance. 
Tattered  and  draggled  and  wet,  I  dared  not  do  more  than 
run  after  the  carriage  at  a  respectful  distance,  with  my 
fox  in  my  arms,  and  so  fearful  was  I  of  being  overtaken 
by  old  Fuss  that  I  darted  into  the  woods  whenever  a  way- 
farer approached.  But  my  fears  were  needless,  for  so 
alarmed  had  the  witch  been  at  the  threats  of  the  boatmen 
that  she  disappeared  suddenly.  Some  said  they  saw  her 
flying  over  the  woods  on  a  broomstick,  with  all  her  wretch- 
ed rags  and  tags  fluttering  behind  her  like  the  tail  of  a 
kite. 

"After  this  I  toiled  on,  often  hungry,  always  weary, 
but  frequently  meeting  with  kindness.  I  only  wanted  to 
find  some  place  of  shelter  from  the  cold  until  the  warm 
weather  should  return  again,  and  I  could  renew  my 
search  for  your  flower. 

"At  last,  one  bitter  day,  striving  to  reach  a  convent 
where  I  had  found  out  they  received  poor  people  like  my- 
self, I  fell,  during  a  blinding  storm,  and  had  neither  the 
courage  nor  the  wish  to  make  the  effort  to  rise.  Grad- 
ually a  heavy  sleep  came  on.  I  forgot  my  woes,  and 
dreamed  of  a  garden  of  roses,  among  which  floated  brill- 
iant butterflies  and  golden  bees. 

"  I  was  aroused  from  this  sleep  by  a  bai'king  and  scratch- 
ing, and  the  forcing  open  of  my  mouth  to  make  me  swal- 
low some  warm  milk.  A  goat-herd  had  found  me,  and 
putting  me  on  the  back  of  his  great  dog,  carried  me  home. 
From  that  moment  my  troubles  ended.  Franz,  the  boy 
who  found  me,  had  a  warm  heart.  His  home  became 
mine.  I  was  ill,  but  all  did  what  they  could  to  make  my 
sufferings  less.  I  had  only  the  one  word  'Edelweiss,'  at 


JANUARY  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


163 


my  command,  and  but  the  one  hope,  that  of  procuring  the 
flower. 

"Christmas -day  came.  All  were  rejoicing,  all  were 
happy;  but  none  could  appreciate  my  joy  when  the  noble 
Franz  put  this  plant  in  my  possession,  his  Christina-,  gifl 
to  me.  I  recovered  immediately,  and  happiness  so  in- 
spired me  that  I  learned  their  language,  and  was  enabled 
to  tell  them  my  story.  All  agreed  that  I  must  return  to 
you,  but  must  wait  till  I  was  strong  for  the  journey. 
While  with  my  friends  I  watched  them  carve  their  beau- 
tiful toys,  some  of  which  I  have  brought  you,  and  learned 
to  do  their  exquisite  work  myself.  I  also  went  often  to 
the  convent,  and  learned  much  from  the  celebrated  Father 
Gliickner  about  herbs  and  flowers.  See,  I  have  brought 
these  packets  of  seeds,  and  a  good  collection  of  remarkable 
specimens.  And  all  the  time  my  little  fox  has  been  my 
pet,  my  companion,  my  solace.  Accept,  then,  dear  lady, 
these  proofs  of  my  obedience.'1 

So  saying,  Florio  finished  speaking.  As  he  stopped,  his 
cheeks  Hushed  with  pleasant  emotion,  a  nightingale  pour- 
ed forth  a  warbling  stream  of  melody.  The  fairy  drew 
her  band  around  her  and  thus  spoke: 

"Happy  mortal,  thus  to  have  achieved  success!  Your 
faithfulness  and  courage  shall  be  well  rewarded.  Look! 
this  is  your  home,  this  we  have  prepared  for  you.  Our 
emissary,  the  young  fox,  had  warned  us  of  your  approach. 
and  we  have  all  in  readiness.'' 

Saying  this,  she  led  the  astonished  Florio  to  a  cottage 
of  twisted  vines  and  roots,  built  by  herself  and  her  attend- 
ant elves.  The  walls  were  brilliant  with  innumerable 
glow-worms  and  fire-flies,  which  sparkled  like  living  gems. 
The  floor  was  soft  with  scented  rushes.  Garlands  of  roses 
festooned  the  rooms,  in  one  of  which  was  a  table  tilled 
with  fruit.  Smiling  with  glee,  Florella  watched  her 
young  friend's  admiration,  which  ended  in  complete  as 
tonishment  when  from  an  adjoining  apartment  came 
Franz  and  Rosa,  the  goat-herd  and  his  sister.  His  joy 
was  now  complete,  but  when  he  turned  to  thank  Florella 
she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  we  know  of  the  famous  gar- 
dener and  seedsman  Florio,  whose  plants  arc  of  boundless 
celebrity,  and  whose  cultivated  blossoms  outrival  the  fa- 
mous exotics  of  the  world.  In  this  forest  he  lived  and 
raised  from  season  to  season  every  tlower  that  grows.  No 
frost  seemed  to  touch  them,  no  drought  withered  them,  for 
Florella  was  true  to  her  promise  of  reward,  and  in  addition 
to  giving  Florio  a  home,  gave  him  also  health  and  wealth 
and  fame. 

The  elves  were  always  on  guard  against  moles  and  in- 
jurious worms,  the  fairies  sprinkled  the  seeds  and  pro- 
tected the  young  buds,  and  basking  in  the  sunshine  out- 
side the  cottage  door  was  always  to  be  found  Florio's  pet, 
the  red  fox,  whom  Florella  for  a  time  had  chosen  to  be  his 
guardian.  Franz  and  Rosa  also  induced  their  family  to 
leave  the  Alpine  snows  for  the  beautiful  land  of  flowers. 

TI1K    KM). 


PLANTS  CAUGHT  NAPPING. 

BY  SOPHIE  B.  IIEREICK. 

AS  we  come  to  be  more  intimate  with  plants,  and  know 
all  about  their  doings  and  see  into  their  daily  lives, 
we  continue  to  find  things  which  remind  us  of  animals. 
Plants,  we  already  know,  eat  and  drink  and  breathe  and 
move.  Besides  all  these  things,  they  sleep;  and  they  must 
get,  their  sleep  regularly,  or  they  lose  their  health  com- 
pletely. 

Nowadays  inventors  spend  their  lives  trying  to  find  out 
useful  things — things  that  will  make  life  easier  and  plea- 
santer:  such  things  as  steamboats  and  railroad  cars,  and 
telegraphs  and  sewing-machines,  and  a  thousand  others 
of  the  same  kind.  In  old  times  all  the  inventions  were 
made  to  compel  men  to  believe  this  or  that  religion  by  the 


use  of  ingenious  tortures.  There  was  no  end  of  different 
kinds  of  suffering  which  poor  miserable  people  who  had 
their  own  ideas  on  religious  subjects  had  to  suffer.  Among 
these  was  the  horrible  torture  of  keeping  people  awake 
night  and  day  till  they  died.  Such  dreadful  things  are 
no  longer  practiced  on  people  in  Christian  lands  ;  but 
many  and  many  a  poor  plant  dies  and  makes  no  sign  from 
just  this  cause. 

People  can  sleep  where  there  is  a  light  in  the  room; 
hardly  so  sweetly  and  soundly,  I  think,  as  they  can  in  the 
darkness ;  still  they  can  go  to  sleep  in  the  light.  But  plants 
can  not.  Until  the  darkness  comes  they  go  011  working 
and  working,  no  matter  how  tired  they  are,  till  the  plucky 
little  creatures  drop  in  harness  and  die.  The  work  they 
do,  I  have  already  told  you,  is  to  separate  the  poisonous 
carbonic  acid  gas  of  the  air  into  two  useful  things— carbon 
for  themselves,  and  oxygen  to  keep  people  and  animals 
alive.  But  they  need  rest  as  much  as  you  or  I  do.  Work- 
ing night  and  day  is  too  much  of  a  strain,  and  finally  their 
health  breaks  down,  and  they  die. 

Many  plants  are  not  contented  merely  to  stop  working. 
That  does  not  give  them  all  the  rest  they  need.  The  leaves 
want  to  lie  down  or  to  hug  close  to  each  other,  in  order  to 
sleep  comfortably,  and  rise  refreshed.  If  you  notice  care- 
fully  a  spray  of  locust  leaves,  for  instance,  by  daylight,  you 
will  see  it  look  something  like  this  (Fig.  1).  I  drew  this, 
one  bright  August  day.  just  as  it  grew  on  the  tree.  The 
leaves  are  all  spread  abroad  to  catch  the  light  and  the 
bree/es.  The  thousand  little  mouths  are  open,  breathing 
in  the  air.  One  evening,  after  it  had  grown  dark,  I  went 
out  and  drew  the  same  spray  asleep  (Fig.  2).  There  was 
just  light  enough  for  me  to  see,  but  not  enough  to  wake 
the  locust  leaves.  There  they  lay.  hugged  up  to  keep 
warm,  their  little  mouths  pressed  close  against  each  other. 

It  may  seem  as  wonderful  to  you  as  it  did  to  me  when 
I  lirst  learned  it.  that  all  your  lives  the  plants  an  i  trees 
around  you  had  been  going  to  sleep  and  cuddling  up  in 
this  way.  and  you  had  never  noticed  it  or  known  it. 
When  you  think  of  it,  it  is  not  really  so  strange,  for  most 
of  the  time  that  the  leaves  are  asleep  you  are  asleep  too, 
and  any  light  which  under  ordinary  circumstances  would 
show  them  to  you  would  keep  them  from  going  to  sleep. 
In  order  to  see  these  sleeping  leaves  you  would  have  to 
take  a  lantern  and  go  out  after  it  was  dark,  and  examine 
spra\s  which  you  had  particularly  examined  by  day,  to 
see  just  the  difference. 

The  young  leaves,  like  young  babies,  sleep  most,  and 
cuddle  up  closer  than  the  older  ones  do.  I  examined  a 
great  many  plants,  and  found  no  very  common  plant 
more  interesting  than  the  locust-tree.  Some  wistaria 
leaves,  especially  the  young  shoots,  not  only  close  up  but 
turn  over  on  their  steins,  to  get  their  rest. 

The  most  remarkable  plant  of  all  that  I  examined  was  a 
mimosa-tree,  or  sensitive  plant,  as  it  is  often  called  (Fig.  3). 
This  tree,  however,  grows  full  thirty  feet  high.  You  can 
sit  and  watch  the  branches  against  the  evening  sky,  and 
as  the  twilight  falls,  the  entire  tree  seems  to  be  thinning 
out  until  it  looks  as  if  the  season  had  gone  backward,  and 
we  were  looking  at  the  tree  in  its  early  spring  dress  of  del- 
icate sprays  (Fig.  4).  It  puts  one  in  mind  of  Keats's  beau- 
tiful line,  when  speaking  of  a  lovely  girl  going  to  sleep: 

"  As  if  a  rose  should  shut  and  be  a  bud  again." 

It  sometimes  happens  that  plants  which  usually  close 
their  leaves  when  they  sleep  are  very  heavily  shaded  dur- 
ing the  day.  When  this  is  the  case  they  do  not  seem  to 
be  much  affected  by  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  do  not 
change  the  position  of  their  leaves.  It  would  seem  as  if 
they  had  been  half  asleep  all  day,  and  so  had  spoiled  their 
night's  rest.  Darwin  tells  us  of  a  plant  which  he  says  he 
watched  carefully,  and  for  two  nights  after  having  been 
violently  shaken  by  the  wind  it  did  not  cuddle  down  to 
sleep.  It  was  probably  too  much  excited  to  rest  properly. 


164 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


Fig.  1.— LOCUST  BHANCH  AWAKE. 


This  movement  of  sleep 
is  so  much  affected  by  the 
presence  or  absence  of 
water,  which  you  remem- 
ber is  the  cause  of  all  ve- 
getable movement,  that  if 
the  ground  in  which  the 
plant  grows  is  allowed  to 
get  very  dry,  or  the  air 
becomes  extremely  parch- 
ed around  it,  it  makes  no 
sleep  movement  at  night. 
The  "touch-me-not"  and 
mallow  are  affected  in 
this  way  by  drought.  Mr. 
Darwin  tried  to  see  how 
long  a  little  plant  he  had 
from  Chili  would  live 
without  water.  He  watch- 
ed it  for  three  weeks  with- 
out giving  it  a  drop  to  drink.  Its  leaves  became  dry  and 
dusty,  so  that  some  of  them  would  drop  off  from  the  stem 
every  time  lie  shook  the  pot.  The  earth  about  the  roots 
became  like  the  dust  011  a  summer  road.  The  leaves  that 

remained  on  the  stem  did 
not  close  in  sleep  at  night. 
Finally,  at  the  end  of 
twenty-one  days,he  water- 
ed the  earth  and  sponged 
off  the  dry  and  thirsty 
leaves.  The  next  morn- 
ing it  seemed  as  fresh  as 
ever,  and  when  night  came 
it  nestled  itself  down  com- 
fortably to  its  rest. 

Some  plants  will  go  to 
sleep  if  they  can  make 
themselves  comfortable, 
while  if  they  are  very 
much  chilled  by  exposure 
to  the  cold  night  air  they 
will  not  make  a  sleep 
movement.  There  is  some- 
thing almost  human  in  all 
these  freaks  of  wakeful- 
ness  in  the  plant  world. 

In  some  plants  the  leaves  stand  up  to  go  to  sleep,  as 
horses  do;  in  others  they  droop  down,  or  lie  close  to  each 
other  like  little  children.  One  kind  of  clover  which  has 
a  yellow  blossom  sleeps  very  curiously  (Fig.  5) ;  it  has,  as 

of  course  you  know,  three 
leaflets  on  each  stalk. 
Each  of  the  three  twists 
itself  around  through  the 
quarter  of  a  circle,  turn- 
ing one  of  the  side  edges 
to  the  sky.  Two  of  the 
leaflets — the  side  ones — 
face  toward  the  north, 
one  a  little  to  the  east  of 
north,  the  other  a  little 
to  the  west.  The  mid- 
dle leaflet  turns  some- 
times eastward,  some- 
times westward  ;  in  do- 
ing so  it  twists  itself 
over  so  as  to  protect  its 
own  upper  surface  and 
one  of  the  other  leaflets 
at  the  same  time.  The 
common  white  clover 
also  sleeps  very  curi- 
Fig.  3.— MIMOSA  AWAKE.  ously. 


Fig.  2. — LOCUST  BRANCH  ASLEEP. 


There  is  a  very  singular  plant 
which  bears  three  leaves  on  a  stem, 
the  middle  one  being  large,  and  the 
other  two  long  narrow  leaflets  which 
stand  straight  out  from  the  stem 
just  below  the  bottom  of  the  large 
central  leaf.  They  look  like  a  pair 
of  oars  poised  in  the  hands  of  a  row- 
er when  he  is  waiting  to  dip  them 
into  the  water.  When  this  plant 
goes  to  sleep  the  small  stem  which 
holds  the  leaf  stands  straight  up, 
and  the  leaf  turns  directly  down  flat 
against  the  stalk.  The  plant  hard- 
ly looks  like  the  same  thing  awake 
and  asleep. 

Besides  the  sleep  movement  this 
plant  has  some  wonderful  motions, 
which  seem  to  be  without  any  par- 
ticular reason,  and  to  come  general- 
ly from  change  of  temperature.  Mr. 
Darwin  put  the  stem  of  one  of  these 
leaves  into  some  water  cool  enough 
to  be  pleasant  to  drink,  and  then 
changed  the  water  for  some  about  as  warm  as  lukewarm 
tea.  The  leaflets  began  to  move,  and  in  a  minute  and  a 
half  had  made  a  complete  circle.  In  very  young  plants 
of  this  kind  the  leaflets  jerk  all  the  while,  very  much  as  a 
baby  kicks  its  legs  and  moves  its  arms,  without  having 
any  particular  reason  for  doing  it. 

When  leaves  get  sleepy  they  do  not  sink  steadily  and 


Fig.  4.— MIMOSA  ASLEEP. 


•p.     ,.   (  1,  YELLOW  CLOVER A,  Awake  ;  B,  Asleep. 

\2,  COMMON  WHITE  CLOVER  —  A,  Awake;  B,  Asleep. 

quietly  down.  There  is  nobody  to  take  them  and  lay 
them  down  to  sleep  when  they  feel  drowsy,  so  they  go  off 
by  themselves  in  a  slow  sort  of  nodding  motion.  Fig.  6 
shows  the  path  that  one  of  these  little  sleepyheads  moved 
over  before  it  went  off  sound  asleep. 

The  cause  of  all  these  movements  is,  as  I  have  said,  the 
shifting  of  water  from  cell 
to  cell,  but  the  reason  for 
them  is  the  same  which 
makes  two  little  children 
sleeping'  side  by  side  draw 
closer  together  when  they 
feel  chilly,  and  nestle  down 
together  in  the  bed.  The 
warmth  of  their  bodies 
then  is  not  lost,  but  passes 
from  one  to  the  other.  pig.  o.— THE  PATH  OF  THE  NOD. 


JANUARY  16,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


165 


NAN  .* 


BY  MRS.  JOHN1   LILLIE, 

AUTHOR  or  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "  Arxr  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

LANCE  thought  that  he  would  remember  that  morn- 
ing's expedition  all  his  life  long;.  Dr.  Rogers  knew 
his  way  perfectly  to  the  stage  entrance  of  the  Beverley 
Opera-House,  having  more  than  once  been  sent  for  in  cases 
of  sudden  illness;  but  Lance  wondered  how  he  could  take 
the  visit  in  such  a  very  cool  sort  of  way. 

"I  suppose  you  never  he- 
fore  went  behind  the  scenes 
of  a  theatre,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  Lance's  eager  young 
face. 

"No,  sir,''  Lance  said. 
"I  don't  suppose  my  fattier 
would  object  to  my  going 
now  with  you.'' 

"  I'll  make  that  all  right," 
the  doctor  said .  And  Lance, 
feeling  his  only  misgiving 
removed,  went  on  full  of 
suppressed  excitement. 

Dr.  Rogers  had  known 
many  people  in  what  is  al- 
ways called  ' '  the  profes- 
sion" ;  but  to  Lance  it  seem- 
ed, from  what  he  told  him, 
as  though  he  knew  chiefly 
the  sad  and  toilsome  sides  of 
their  lives.  The  hard  work 
— both  of  appearing  gay 
when  most  weary,  and  of 
being  morning,  noon,  and 
night  either  rehearsing,  or 
acting,  or  hanging  about 
managers'  or  treasurers'  of- 
fices or  doleful  green-rooms. 

Now  to  Lance  a  "green- 
room" meant  such  a  place 
as  he  had  seen  described  in 
the  life  of  Garrick  or  Gold- 
smith, where  the  great  beaux 
and  wits  of  the  day  gather- 
ed, and  where  the  sparkle  of 
gems,  the  clinking  of  glass- 
es, and  the  gayety  of  voices 
aided  a  brilliant  scene. 

"This  way,"  Dr.  Rogers 
said,  as  they  turned  down  a 
little  alley  at  one  side  of  the 
theatre.  Outside  were  flar- 
ing placards  of  the  "Great 
Spectacular  Drama,"  being 
performed  with  one  hundred 
dancers,  some  real  horses, 
and  a  chariot — all  splendors 
which  he  would  fain  have 
witnessed  from  the  front  of 
the  house ;  but  while  Mr.  Rolf 
encouraged  his  boy  to  see 

first -class  theatrical  representations,  he  would  have  for- 
bidden his  attending  this  lower  order  of  vulgar  display, 
and  Lance  led  too  frank  a  life  to  do  in  secret  what  he 
knew  his  father  and  Phyllis  would  condemn. 

Some  warehouses  were  at  one  side,  and  wedged  in  be- 
tween them  Lance  saw  a  narrow  doorway  with  a  flight  of 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


steps  leading  under-ground.  Above  the  door  was  written 
in  half-legible  characters,  "Stage-Entrance.  No  Admit- 
tance." The  doctor,  however,  pushed  oji,  descending  the 
stairs,  followed  by  Lance.  A  rough -looking  lad  was 
standing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  evidently  on  guard ;  but 
the  doctor  simply  said,  "All  right,"  and  passed  on,  with 
Lance  close  beside  him.  They  groped  their  way  along  a 
dark  passage,  to  the  left  of  which  was  a  flight  of  rickety 
steps,  and  up  these  they  hurried,  Lance  wondering  how 
soon  the  air  would  feel  anything  but  damp  and  draughty. 
Below  lie  had  remarked  various  pieces  of  stage-carpentry, 
and  Dr.  Rogers  explained  to  him  that  it  was  there  that 
much  of  the  necessary  stage-work  was  done. 


THE    DOCTOR   AND    LANCE    FIND    MRS.   TRAVERS. 


At  the  top  of  the  staircase 
they  found  themselves  in 
a  labyrinth  of  side  scenes, 
beams,  and  pulleys  —  all 
the  mechanical  part  of  the 
Grand  Spectacular  Drama 
about  to  be  performed.  Men 
were  running  here  and 
there  :  from  high  up  in 
what  looked  like  scaffold- 
ings Lance  could  hear  voices — the  stage-carpenter  call- 
ing out  this  and  that  direction  with  various  strong  ex- 
pressions—  while  already  in  the  narrow  spaces  behind 
the  scenes  the  actors  and  actresses  were  beginning  to 
move  about.  There  was  some  gas-light,  but  usually  a 
cold  stream  of  daylight  fell  in  upon  the  painted  faces 
and  tawdry-looking  costumes,  which  would  soon  have 
the  aid  of  the  foot-lights  and  the  illusions  of  a  happy 


166 


IIAPwPEIl'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


country  audience.  But  here  everything  looked  what  it 
really  was;  and  oh,  in  spite  of  paint  and  powder,  how 
weary  some  of  the  faces  looked !  A  group  of  young 
girls  thinly  dressed  were  gathered  together  near  one  of 
the  side  scenes,  and  Lance  overheard  them  discussing 
whether  they  would  have  much  to  pay  in  fines  out  of  their 
salaries  that  night.  One  girl,  who,  singular  to  say,  was 
occupied  in  darning  stockings,  declaimed  if  she  were  to  be 
fined  again  for  being  "just  one  minute  late,"  she  couldn't 
stand  it.  "  I'll  starve  next,"  she  said,  with  a  sad  laugh. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Burton  is  ?"  the  doctor  asked 
of  one  of  these  young  people. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  very  politely.  "I  think  he's 
in  the  greenroom." 

The  word  greenroom  sent  a  thrill  of  delight  to  Lance's 
heart,  and  Dr.  Rogers  led  the  way  directly  across  the  stage, 
where  already  a  fairy  scene  was  set;  but  Lance  could  not 
help  a  feeling  of  surprise  and  disappointment  as  he  found 
himself  passing  pasteboard  trees  and  a  grotto  made  up  of 
the  queerest  odds  and  ends,  while  at  one  side  the  most 
coarsely  painted  stream  trickled  over  painted  rocks.  But 
the  greenroom  was  ahead  of  him.  Dr.  Rogers  made  his 
way  into  a  small,  scantily  furnished  room,  bare  and  com- 
pletely dismal.  Here  were-  gathered  two  or  three  people 
in  costumes  of  a  somewhat  better  description  than  the  girls 
they  had  seen  grouped  together.  One  young  man  was 
putting  some  additional  touches  to  his  eyebrows  at  a  crack- 
ed mirror,  and  a  stout,  elaborately  dressed  lady  was  talking 
earnestly  to  the  manager.  Only  a  few  chairs  and  a  table 
of  the  roughest  description  furnished  what  Lance  had  to 
believe  was  actually  a  greenroom.  His  illusions  were  cer- 
tainly gone,  but  lie  was  glad  to  have  seen  it,  at  all  events, 
and  he  began  now  to  think  more  earnestly  of  their  errand. 

Dr.  Rogers  courteously  explained  to  Mr.  Burton  that  In- 
had  come  to  inquire  the  whereabouts  of  a  woman  named 
Travers.  At  this  one  of  the  company  near  the  door  said, 
"Oh,  Travers  is  in  my  dressing-room.  Do  you  want  to 
see  her  ;" 

"I'm  sure  I'm  very  sorry  for  her,"  said  Mr.  Burton, 
well  knowing  that  Dr.  Rogers's  errand  was  charity:  "and 
I've  taken  her  on  with  us  a  fe\v  weeks  as  dresser;  but  I'm 
afraid  she  won't  hold  out.  She's  a  pretty  sick  woman.'1 

The  lady  who  had  spoken  said,  "Will  you  come  and  see 
her,  sir?" 

Mr.  Burton  seemed  very  busy,  and  Dr.  Rogers  followed  j 
the  good-humored  actress,  who  was  glittering  with  span- 
gles and  paste  jewelry,  up  a  rickety  staircase  to  a.  little  box 
of  a  room,  noisy  and  ill-ventilated. 

On  a  half-broken-down  chair  there  sat  a  thin,  hollow- 
eyed  woman,  who  apparently  felt  too  listless  to  move,  and 
scarcely  looked  up  when  the  actress  said,  kindly,  "  Mol- 
lie,  here's  a  doctor  who  says  he  has  the  boy." 

At  this  she  brightened,  and  on  hearing  what  had  oc- 
curred at  Mr.  Blake's,  she  expressed  a  desire  to  go  at  once 
to  the  child;  but  as  she  rose  it  was  only  too  evident  that 
her  strength  would  not  admit  of  her  walking  one  block, 
and  so  the  kind-hearted  doctor  whispered  to  Lance,  "  Sup- 
pose you  get  a  hack,  my  boy,  from  the  depot;  and  here,  a 
little  port-wine  wouldn't  hurt  her." 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  actress,  "  we  gave  her  all  the  dinner 
she'd  take;  and  I'm  sure  we'd  all  do  anything  we  could 
for  her.  She  was  with  our  company  six  months  before 
Travers  died.  But  I'm  sure,  as  a  physician,  you  can  tell 
she's  not  fit  for  work." 

Lance  and  Dr.  Rogers  assisted  poor  Mrs.  Travers  into 
the  carriage.  As  they  left  the  theatre  Lance  could  hear 
the  orchestra  playing  gayly,  and  the  voice  of  the  stage- 
manager  calling  to  the  dancers,  "This  way,  my  dears; 
hurry  up;  no  nonsense  now!" 

And  as  he  lodked  at  the  pale,  haggard  face  of  Mrs.  Trav- 
ers, he  wondered  how  she  had  thought  of  renewing  a  life 
in  which  it  already  seemed  to  him  there  could  be  nothing 
but  weariness  and  pain. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NAN'S  brain  worked  very  busily  with  schemes  for  the 
Travers's  future  while  she  sat  by  little  David's  bedside. 
She  determined  to  do  all  Aunt  Letty  would  allow  her  to 
for  the  boy,  whom  she  felt  as  if  she  had  "found,"  and  she 
thought  it  seemed  almost  in  answer  to  the  talk  she  and 
Lance  had  had  in  the  boat  that  very  morning. 

While  her  mind  was  working  with  a  dozen  highly  col- 
ored fancies  for  the  future,  she  heard  the  sound  of  wheels 
outside  the  little  garden,  and  stealing  to  the  window,  saw 
to  her  great  joy  the  Rolf  House  carriage,  from  which  Aunt 
Letitia  herself  was  descending. 

Nan  fairly  held  her  breath  while  she  heard  Miss  Rolf 
speaking  below  to  Love,  and  then  came  the  rustle  of  silk 
along  the  little  corridor,  and  Miss  Rolf  gently  entered  the 
room. 

Nan  started  forward,  catching1  her  aunt's  hand,  and 
looking  up  at  her  with  beaming  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Letty,"  she  whispered,  "how  glad  I  am  you 
came !" 

"I  wanted  my  own  little  runaway,"  said  Miss  Rolf, 
smiling  good-hunioredly ;  "and,  Nan,  tell  me  more  about 
this  poor  little  boy."  So  Nan  repeated  the  story,  and 
then,  while  she  stood  in  the  window  by  her  aunt,  she 
begged  that  he  and  his  mother  might  be  provided  for. 

"If  you'd  let  me,  aunt — my  pocket-money,"  faltered 
Nan,  who  had  been  just  two  weeks  in  receipt  of  an  allow- 
ance of  half  a  dollar. 

Miss  Rolf  smiled.  She  remained  thinking  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  very  gently:  "I'll  see  that  he  is  cared  for, 
Nan,  and  then,  if  it  turns  out  well,  I'll  speak  to  you  of  a 
plan  I  have." 

Nan  pressed  her  aunt's  hand  warmly,  and  as  Margaret 
came  up  now,  Miss  Rolf  turned  to  her  and  asked  if  it 
would  be  quite  convenient  to  her  father  and  herself  to  let 
the  poor  wanderers  board  there  a  week  or  two.  Margaret 
said  she  was  sure  of  it.  and  a  querulous  voice  across  the 
hall  calling  her  name,  she  added,  in  an  uiider-tone,  "Per- 
haps, Miss  Rolf,  you  wouldn't  mind  speaking  to  mother 
about  it !" 

And  Miss  Rolf,  who  thoroughly  understood  Mrs. 
Blake's  caprices,  went  across  the  hall  into  the  room  where 
the  invalid  sat  in  an  easy-chair,  every  comfort  about  her 
that  the  hard  work  and  the  tenderness  of  her  husband  and 
child  could  procure.  But  Mrs.  Blake,  as  somebody  said, 
would  be  one  to  complain  that  her  heavenly  crown  was 
uncomfortable,  so  completely  dissatisfied  was  she  with  ev- 
erything. Miss  Rolf,  however,  was  in  her  eyes  the  one 
human  being  she  could  submit  to.  When  she  was  a 
young  girl  she  had  known  the  old  lady,  who  had  procured 
for  her  a  place  as  district-school  teacher,  from  which  she 
felt  she  "descended"  to  marry  honest  Joel  Blake.  It 
was  easy  for  Miss  Rolf  to  make  Mrs.  Blake  consent  to  the 
Traverses  boarding  there  until  she,  Miss  Rolf,  decided  what 
permanent  home  could  be  found. 

While  they  were  discussing  the  matter  Lance  returned 
to  say  that  the  doctor  had  been  obliged  to  take  poor  Mrs. 
Travers  to  the  Cottage  Hospital  he  superintended,  and 
which  was  largely  under  Miss  Rolf's  patronage.  The  poor 
woman  was  certainly  very  ill.  So  only  little  David  was 
to  be  left  on  Margaret's  willing  hands.  Miss  Rolf  depart- 
ed, promising  to  send  Mrs.  Heriot  over  directly  to  see  what  < 
Margaret  needed;  and  leaving  his  boat  in  Blake's  charge, 
Lance  drove  home  with  Nan  and  his  cousin  Letty. 

The  morning  had  been  to  Nan  full  of  excitement,  but 
the  afternoon  was  to  contain  even  a  greater  amount. 
Nan  knew  that  her  aunt  was  very  thoughtful,  and  when 
she  sent  word  at  four  o'clock  asking  Dr.  Rogers  to  call  at 
Rolf  House  to  take  tea,  something  in  the  way  she  spoke  of 
it  to  Nan  impressed  the  little  girl  as  though  plans  were 
being  made  in  which  she  was  concerned. 

After  tea  the  mystery  was  solved.     Nan  and  Lance 


JANTAKY   1C,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


167 


were  in  the  drawing-room,  tlie  latter  eagerly  relating  his 
experience  at  the  theatre,  when  they  heard  Dr.  Rogers 
leaving  the  house,  and  in  a  moment  Nan  was  sent  for  to 
the  black-walnut  parlor. 

[TO    BE    CONTIXTED.] 


GOIXG  TO  SCHOOL. 

BY  MRS.  MARGARET  E.  SANliSTER. 

THERE'S  an  army  that  musters  its  legions, 

And  marches  to  roll-call  each  day; 
And  happy  and  blest  are  the  regions 

Which  lie  in  that  army's  bright  way. 
They  troop  over  hillock  and  hollow. 

Tiiey  spring  across  brooklet  and  pool, 
And  irayly  and  cheerily  follow 

The,  summons  which  bids  them  to  school. 

l',\   thousands  the  arm}-  is  numbered, 
'lls  soldiers  are  fresh  as  Ibe  morn; 
Not  one  is  by  sorrow  encumbered, 

Not  one  is  by  care  overborne. 
At  decimal-,  sometimes  they  stumble. 

And   sometimes  by  verbs  are  perplexed; 
And  the   proudest   irro\\s  saddened  and  humbled 

\Vlien  a  ([Ueslion   is  passed    lo   the   ne\l. 

But  forgot  at  the  briefest   vacation 

Are  problems  and  pu/./.les  and   prose, 
The  grief  of  the  sieni   conjugation. 

Thai    lute  was  a    fountain  of  woes; 
And   the  army   L'OCS  hack  lo  its  duty 

The  hour  that   play-lime  is  done. 
Resplendent    in   love  anil   in   beauty. 

1'nmatclied  'ncalh  the   light    of  ibe  sun. 

They    sillier,  this  wonderful   army. 

In   field   and   in  grove  and   in   street; 
Their  voices  are  music  to  charm   me. 

So  finning  and  eager  and  sweci 
Their  cheeks  are  as  red  as  a   cliern  . 

Their  eyes  are  as  pure  as  the  da\. 
And   the  sound  of  their  marching  is  merry, 

\\  herevcr  (hey   pass  on  their  way. 

There  are  i>eo])le  forever  u-sighing 

And  saying  the  world  is  all  wrong; 
But    somi-liow   their  doulils  lake  lo  Hying 

At  sight  of  this  womlerful  throng. 
The   world   in, i;i  be  clouded  anil   weary. 

Of  trouble  and  toil  may  be  full, 
But  at  least   there  is  hope  where  the  cheery 

Dear  children  are  going  to  school. 


THE  TROUBLESOME  BURGIIKi;.- 

BY  GEORGE  CAEY  E(;(;  l.KSToN . 

T)HILIP  VAN  ARTEVELDE  was  a  Dutchman.  His 
_L  father,  Jacob,  had  been  Governor  of  Ghent,  and  had 
made  himself  a  great  name  by  leading  a  revolt  against  the 
Count  of  Flanders,  and  driving  him  out  of  the  country. 

Philip  was  a  quiet  man,  who  attended  to  his  own  affairs 
and  took  no  part  in  public  business;  but  in  the  year  1381 
the  good  people  of  Ghent  found  themselves  in  a  very  great 
difficulty.  Their  city  was  subject  to  the  Count  of  Flan- 
ders, who  oppressed  them  in  every  way.  He  and  his  no- 
bles thought  nothing  of  the  common  people,  but  taxed 
them  heavily  and  interfered  with  their  business. 

The  city  of  Bruges  was  the  rival  of  Ghent,  and  in  those 
days  rivals  in  trade  were  enemies.  The  Bruges  people 
were  not  satisfied  with  trying  to  make  more  money  and 
get  more  business  than  Ghent  could,  but  they  wanted 
Ghent  destroyed,  and  so  they  supported  Count  Louis  in 
all  that  he  did  to  injure  their  neighboring  city. 

Having  this  quarrel  on  their  hands,  the  Ghent  people 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  Count  Louis  was  too  strong 
for  them,  and  they  were  very  much  afraid  he  would  de- 
stroy their  town  and  put  the  people  to  death. 

A  public  meeting  was  held,  and  remembering  how  well 
old  Jacob  van  Artevelde  had  served  them  against  the  fa- 


ther of  Count  Louis,  they  made  his  son  Philip  their  cap- 
tain, and  told  him  he  must  manage  this  quarrel  for 
them. 

Philip  undertook  this  duty,  and  tried  to  settle  the  trou- 
ble in  some  peaceable  way ;  but  the  Count  was  angry,  and 
would  not  listen  to  anything  that  Van  Artevelde  proposed. 
He  said  the  Ghent  people  were  rebels,  and  must  submit 
without  any  conditions  at  all,  and  this  the  sturdy  Ghent 
burghers  would  not  do. 

Count  Louis  would  not  march  against  the  town  and 
give  the  people  a  fair  chance  to  fight  the  matter  out.  He 
preferred  to  starve  them,  and  for  that  purpose  he  put  sol- 
diers on  all  the  roads  leading  toward  Ghent,  and  refused 
to  allow  any  provisions  to  be  taken  to  the  city. 

The  people  soon  ate  up  nearly  all  the  food  they  had,  and 
when  the  spring  of  1382  came  they  were  starving.  Some- 
thing must  be  done  at  once,  and  Philip  van  Artevelde  de- 
cided that  it  was  of  no  use  to  resist  any  longer.  He  took 
twelve  deputies  with  him,  and  went  to  beg  the  Count  for 
mercy.  He  oti'crcd  to  submit  to  any  terms  the  Count 
might  propose,  if  the  Count  would  only  promise  not  to 
put  any  of  the  people  to  death.  Philip  even  offered  him- 
self as  a  victim,  agreeing  that  Ibe  Count  should  banish 
him  from  the  country  as  a  punishment,  if  he  would  spare 
the  people  of  the  town.  Hut  the  haughty  Count  would 
promise  nothing.  He  said  that  all  the  people  of  Ghent 
from  fifteen  to  sixty  years  old  must  march  half-way  to 
Bruges  bare-headed,  with  no  clothes  on  but  their  shirts, 
and  each  with  a  rope  around  his  neck,  and  then  he  would 
decide  how  many  of  them  he  would  put  to  death  and  how 
many  lie  would  spare. 

The  Count  thought  the  poor  Ghent  people  would  have 
to  submit  to  this,  and  he  meant  to  put  them  all  to  death 
when  they  should  thus  come  out  without  arms  to  surren- 
der. He  therefore  called  on  his  vassals  to  meet  him  in 
Bruges  at  Master,  and  to  go  out  with  him  to  "destroy 
these  troublesome  burghers." 

But  the  "troublesome  burghers," as  we  shall  see  pre- 
sently, were  not  the  kind  of  men  to  walk  out  bare-headed, 
with  ropes  around  their  necks,  and  submit  to  destruction. 

Philip  van  Artevelde  returned  sadly  to  Ghent,  on  the 
l'!Hh  of  April,  and  told  the  people  what  the  Count  had 
said.  Then  the  gallant  old  soldier  Peter  van  den  Bossche 
exclaimed. 

"In  a  few  days  the  town  of  Ghent  shall  be  the  most 
honored  or  the  most  humbled  town  in  Christendom." 

Van  Artevelde  called  the  burghers  together,  and  told 
them  what  the  situation  was.  There  were  30,000  people  in 
Ghent,  and  there  was  no  food  to  be  had  for  them.  There 
was  no  hope  that  the  Count  would  offer  any  better  terms, 
or  that  anybody  would  come  to  their  assistance.  They 
must  decide  quickly  what  they  would  do,  and  Philip  said 
there  were  three  courses  open  to  them.  First,  if  they 
chose,  they  could  wall  up  the  gates  of  the  town  and  die 
of  starvation.  Secondly,  they  could  accept  the  Count's 
terms,  march  out  with  the  ropes  around  their  necks,  and 
take  whatever  punishment  the  Count  might  put  upon 
them.  If  they  should  decide  to  do  that,  Philip  said  he 
would  offer  himself  to  the  Count  to  be  hanged  first. 
Thirdly,  they  could  get  together  5000  of  their  best  men, 
march  to  Bruges,  and  fight  the  quarrel  out. 

The  answer  of  the  people  was  that  Philip  must  decide 
for  them,  and  he  at  once  said,  "Then  we  will  fight." 

The  5000  men  were  got  together,  and  on  the  1st  of  May 
they  marched  out  of  the  town  to  win  or  lose  the  desperate 
battle.  The  priests  of  the  city  stood  at  the  gates  as  the 
men  marched  out,  and  prayed  for  blessings  upon  them. 
The  old  men,  the  women,  and  the  children  cried  out,  "If 
you  lose  the  battle  you  need  not  return,  to  Ghent,  for  you 
will  find  your  families  dead  in  their  homes." 

The  only  food  there  was  for  these  5000  men  was  carried 
in  five  little  carts,  while  011  another  cart  two  casks  of  wine 
were  taken. 


168 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    BURGHERS    PREPARE    TO   DEFEND   THEIR    CITY". 


The  next  day  Van  Artevelde  placed  his  little  army  in 
line  011  the  common  of  Beverhoutsveld,  at  Oedelem,  near 
Bruges.  There  was  a  marsh  in  front  of  them,  and  Van 
Artevelde  protected  their  Hank  by  a  fortification  consist- 
ing of  the  carts  and  some  stakes  driven  into  the  ground. 
He  then  sent  a  messenger  to  the  Count,  begging  him  to 
pardon  the  people  of  Ghent,  and  having  done  this,  he  or- 
dered his  men  to  go  to  sleep  for  the  night. 

At  daybreak  the  next  morning  the  little  army  was 
aroused  to  make  final  preparations  for  the  desperate  work 
before  them.  The  priests  exhorted  the  men  to  fight  to  the 
death,  showing  them  how  useless  it  would  be  to  surrender 
or  to  run  away,  as  they  were  sure  to  be  put  to  death  at  any 
rate.  Their  only  hope  for  life  was  in  victory,  and  if  they 
could  not  win  that,  it  would  be  better  to  die  fighting  like 
men  than  to  surrender  and  be  put  to  death  like  dogs. 

After  these  exhortations  were  given,  seven  gray  friars 
said  mass  and  gave  the  sacrament  to  all  tire  soldiers. 
Then  the  five  cart-loads  of  provisions  and  the  two  casks  of 
wine  were  divided  among  the  men,  for  their  last  breakfast. 
When  that  meal  was  eaten,  the  soldiers  of  Ghent  had  not 
an  ounce  of  food  left  anywhere. 

Meantime  the  Count  called  his  men  together  in  Bruges, 
and  got  them  ready  for  battle;  but  the  people  of  Bruges 
were  so  sure  of  easily  destroying  the  little  Ghent  army 
that  they  would  not  wait  for  orders,  but  marched  out  shout- 
ing and  singing  and  making  merry. 

As  their  column  marched  along  the  road  in  this  noisy 
fashion,  the  ''troublesome  burghers"  of  Ghent  suddenly 
sprang  upon  them,  crying,  "Ghent!  Ghent!" 

The  charge  was  so  sudden  and  so  fierce  that  the  Bruges 
people  gave  way,  and  lied  in  a  panic  toward  the  town,  with 


Van  Artevelde's  men  at  their  heels  in  hot  pursuit.  The 
Count's  regular  troops  tried  to  make  a  stand,  but  the 
burghers  of  Ghent  came  upon  them  so  furiously  that  they 
too  became  panic-stricken  and  fled.  The  Count  himself  ran 
with  all  his  might,  and  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  city  he 
ordered  the  gates  to  be  shut.  He  was  so  anxious  to  save 
himself  from  the  fury  of  Van  Artevelde's  soldiers  that  he 
wanted  to  close  the  gates  at  once  and  leave  those  of  his 
own  people  who  were  still  outside  to  their  fate.  But  it 
was  already  too  late.  Van  Artevelde's  column  had  fol- 
lowed the  retreating  crowd  so  fast  that  it  had  already 
pushed  its  head  into  the  town,  and  there  was  no  driving  it 
back.  The  five  thousand  "  troublesome  burghers,"  with 
their  swords  in  their  hands,  and  still  crying  "Ghent!" 
swarmed  into  Bruges,  and  quickly  took  possession  of  the 
town.  The  Count's  army  was  utterly  routed  and  scatter- 
ed, and  the  Count  himself  would  have  been  taken  prisoner 
if  one  of  the  Ghent  burghers  had  not  hidden  him  and  help- 
ed him  to  escape  from  the  city. 

Van  Artevelde's  soldiers,  who  had  eaten  the  last  of  their 
food  that  morning  in  the  belief  that  they  would  never  eat 
another  meal  on  earth,  supped  that  night  on  the  richest 
dishes  that  Bruges  could  supply;  and  now  that  the  Count 
was  overthrown,  great  wagon  trains  of  provisions  poured 
into  poor,  starving  Ghent. 

There  was  a  great  golden  dragon  on  the  belfry  of  Bruges, 
of  which  the  Bruges  people  were  very  proud.  That  drag- 
on had  once  stood  on  the  Church  of  St.  Sophia  in  Con- 
stantinople, and  the  Emperor  Baldwin  had  sent  it  as  a  pre- 
sent to  Bruges.  In  token  of  their  victory  Van  Artevelde's 
"troublesome  burghers"  took  down  the  golden  dragon 
and  carried  it  to  Ghent. 


.JANT.UIY  16,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  TOUXG  PEOPLE. 


169 


170 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


WRECKED  ON  AN  ICEBERG. 

A  SAILOR'S  STORY. 
BY  WILLIAM  J.  LACEY. 

AND  so,  lads,  you  would  like  to  hear  the  story  of  what 
I  am  a  little  too  fond,  it  may  be,  of  calling  "My 
strange  Christmas-day  on  an  Iceberg." 

Ay,  strange  enough  I  did  think  it  at  the  time,  too.  As 
you  must  know,  boys,  it  was  only  my  second  voyage, 
and  I  wasn't  very  much  bigger  than  Master  James  here, 
then.  Very  likely,  if  the  truth  was  all  told,  I  was  a  bit 
wayward  and  wild,  as  lads  are  apt  to  be  still,  I  fear.  But, 
bless  you,  that  voyage,  or  rather  its  ending,  was  enough 
to  sober  anybody.  I've  never  forgotten  it,  and  if  the  rest 
of  my  mates  are  still  alive,  I  don't  expect  any  one  of  them 
has  either. 

Well,  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  leave  school,  and 
my  parents — who  were  comparatively  well-to-do — wished 
to  send  me  up  into  a  London  counting-house,  where  I 
should  have  had  a  very  good  chance  indeed  of  rising,  I 
rebelled.  My  mind  was  set  011  going  to  sea.  My  lock- 
er -was  cram-full  of  Marryat's  novels,  naval  wars,  maps, 
compasses,  and  a  big  treatise  on  navigation  that  I  had 
picked  up  at  a  book  .stall,  and  could  no  more  comprehend 
than  Joanna  the  cook.  I  pleaded  witli  all  the  hot,  elo- 
quent force  of  boyhood  in  favor  of  the  ocean  life  of  my 
fancy. 

It  was  no  use.  I  could  not  convince  my  parents,  and 
the  end  of  it  was  I  ran  away  to  sea. 

When  I  came  back  from  that  first  voyage,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  nearly  eight  months,  I  was  still  in  love  with  the 
briny,  and  still  resolute  in  my  determination  to  be  a 
sailor. 

I  had  undergone  not  a  little  hardship  of  one  kind  or 
another,  but  it  had  not  altered  me.  Thus  it  came  about 
that  I  sailed  again  on  board  the  Vanthy,  A  merchant  man 
bound  for  the  cod-fisheries  of  Newfoundland. 

This  time,  likewise,  I  had  a  comparatively  safe  and  plea- 
sant voyage,  until  within  a  few  days'  sail  of  land. 

It  was  now  the  latter  half  of  December,  and  captain  and 
crew  alike  were  in  high  hopes  of  spending  the  approaching 
Christmas-day  in  port. 

Alas !  not  a  few  of  their  number,  poor  fellows,  were  des- 
tined to  spend  it  in  the  last  haven  of  all — in  this  case, 
fathoms  under  water. 

As  we  neared  the  Newfoundland  Banks,  heavy  fogs 
again  and  again  overtook  us,  and  the  morning  of  the  24th 
of  December  found  the  Vanthy  enveloped  in  one,  if  possi- 
ble, denser  and  thicker  than  before. 

A  great  quantity  of  watching  and  working  had  fallen 
to  my  share  during  the  small-hours  of  the  night  that  was 
past,  and  so  I  seized  the  first  chance  I  could  get  to  slip  be- 
low and  take  a  brief  rest. 

It  was  not  to  be. 

Hardly  had  I  tossed  myself  into  my  hammock  when  a 
terrific  shock  dashed  me  out  again  with  much  violence 
upon  the  boards  beneath. 

My  experience  was  limited,  and  the  first  thing  that 
struck  my  mind  was  that  we  had  run  on  shore. 

Hastily  I  scrambled  to  my  feet  and  up  on  deck,  to  see 
there,  looming  weirdly  up  in  the  fog,  that,  now  the  mis- 
chief was  done,  was  beginning  slowly  to  evaporate,  the 
awe-inspiring  form  of  a  gigantic  iceberg — a  sight  that 
would  have  appalled— nay,  had  appalled — stouter  hearts 
than  mine. 

Upon  that  iceberg  it  seemed  we  had  struck,  with  irre- 
trievable damage  to  the  Vanthy,  stout  and  thoroughly 
sea-worthy  though  the  good  ship  was. 

The  Captain's  voice  broke  through  the  tumult.  Curi- 
ously calm  it  seemed  to  me,  for  I  barely  gave  it  a  thought 
that  at  such  a  crisis  a  single  moment's  indecision  or  want 
of  self-control  011  the  part  of  authority  may  mean  the  loss 
of  many  a  valuable  life,  let  alone  a  vessel's  cargo. 


"Order,  my  men,"  he  said.  " This  will  never  do.  We 
have,  as  you  know,  been  rammed  by  this  iceberg.  The 
ship  has  sprung  leaks  which  no  carpenter  can  repair. 
The  collision  has  stove  in  our  boats.  Our  only  hope  is 
to  take  refuge  on  the  ice-floe;  the  part  nearest  looks  too 
steep,  but  I  think  it  may  be  done  farther  round.  What 
do  you  say?  Shall  we  try?  Luckily  the  sea  is  calm,  or 
even  that  might  be  impossible,"  he  added,  in  an  under- 
tone. 

' '  Ay,  ay !     Try,  sir,"  gruffly  responded  the  men. 

They  were  willing,  and  more  than  willing — eager,  as 
the  Captain  well  knew — to  embrace  this  chance  of  at  least 
temporary  safety. 

So  we  set  to  work,  as  men  only  can  work  when  life  or 
death  is  the  issue. 

Some,  by  plugs,  did  what  was  possible  in  the  way  of 
stopping  the  leaks;  some,  in  gangs,  kept  the  pumps  going; 
the  remainder,  under  the  carpenter's  directions,  toiled  at 
the  making  of  the  raft  which  was  to  carry  us  across.  • 

It  was  a  great  pity,  the  disaster  to  our  boats,  for  if  they 
had  been  spared  us  we  might  have  got  away  to  shore 
without  difficulty. 

They  were  gone,  however,  and  it  was  of  no  use  crying 
over  spilled  milk;  we  worked  instead. 

A  light  skiff  packed  away  below — a  whim  of  the  chief 
mate's,  it  was  said  to  be — was  fished  up,  and  sent  otf,  with 
the  one  occupant  it  alone  had  room  for,  on  a  trip  of  dis- 
covery around  the  berg. 

The  man  returned  with  the  welcome  news  that  the  Cap- 
tain's surmise  was  right.  On  the  opposite  side,  he  said, 
there  was  both  space  for  a  landing  (on  ice)  and  accommo- 
dation within  reach  for  us  all.  Once  thereon,  we  might 
easily  contrive  to  rig  some  sort  of  a  shelter. 

Then  began  the  task  of  filing  off  the  crew. 

We  were  obliged  to  divide  our  company  into  three  sec- 
tions to  get  them  over  in  anything  like  safety,  for  both 
the  raft  and  the  space  of  time  in  which  to  use  it  were  nar- 
row— the  latter  much  more  narrow  than  anybody  thought; 
and  it  was  doubtless  owing  to  this  unfortunate  miscalcu- 
lation that  the  disaster  which  followed  came. 

Two  of  the  parties  had  been  conveyed  across  in  safety, 
myself  in  the  second  batch;  the  raft  had  been  piloted  back 
for  the  last  time,  and  the  men  were  seen  climbing  down 
the  ship's  side  on  to  it,  when,  as  we  watched  from  that 
corner  of  the  floe  from  which  we  could  get  a  distant  side 
view,  the  battered  Vitnthy  was  seen  to  be  going  down, 
dragging  with  her  our  raft  and  the  poor  fellows  who  were 
already  on  it.  So  we  were  compelled  to  witness,  in  terri- 
ble agony  of  soul  and  utter  inability  to  help,  the  sinking 
into  a  watery  grave  of  those  who  for  long  months  had 
been  our  companions  and  friends.  It  was  an  awful  sight 
— one  that  even  now,  boys,  almost  overwhelms  me.  One 
man,  and  one  only,  of  all  those  left  behind  for  that  fatal 
third  trip,  managed  to  swim  close  enough  to  be  picked  up 
and  rescued  by  the  skitf . 

That  one  proved  to  be  the  Captain. 

When  I  parted  with  him  in  port,  many  days  afterward, 
he  seemed,  I  declare,  fully  ten  years  older  than  when  we 
first  sailed  together  from  the  shores  of  old  England;  and 
not  much  wonder,  eh,  lads  ? 

The  rest  of  that  memorable  day  we  occupied  i:i  making 
ourselves  as  comfortable  as  was  possible  in  our  cold  quar- 
ters, sheltering  ourselves  as  best  we  might  under  the  over- 
hanging brows  of  ice. 

Night  came  slowly  on.      The  cold  was  simply  intense. 

One  by  one  the  pale  glittering  stars  of  the  Northern 
constellations  broke  in  upon  our  loneliness,  and  the  clear, 
calm  moon  drifted  pitilessly  up  into  the  sky. 

We  needed  no  telling  that  if  one  of  our  number  should 
fall  asleep  there  unnoticed,  and  hence  unmolested  by  his 
comrades,  it  was  more  than  probable  that  he  -would  wake 
no  more  in  the  land  of  the  living,  rescue  or  no  rescue. 

We  talked,  we  told  stories — grim  ones  they  were — we 


JAM-ARY  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


1T1 


even  tried  to  sing;  and  thus  the  long  dreary  hours  of  the 
night  paced  on. 

Morning  dawned,  gray  and  misty  again — the  blessed 
Christinas  morn!  Rations  were  served  out  in  the  usual 
order,  and  a  sharp  lookout  was  kept,  I'll  warrant  you,  by 
all  without  exception,  for  some  passing  vessel  that  might 
be  to  us  ail  angel  of  rescue.  None  came,  nor  any  si  mi  of 
any,  and  that  "strange,"' as  I  truly  called  it,  I'hristmas- 
day  left  us  as  it  found  us — cold,  miserable,  and  tormented 
with  a  sleepiness  we  dared  not  indulge. 

Not  many  miles  away — for  we  could  not  be  far  from 
land  now — happy  households  were  keeping  the  l'esii\e 
season  in  merry,  orthodox  fashion:  we  kept  it  on  our  ice- 
berg, doubting  much  whether  there  would  ever  again  be- 
any chance  of  our  joining  in  such  merriment. 

In  what  direction  the  iceberg  was  drifting,  or  if,  indeed, 
it  moved  at  all,  was  very  hard  to  say. 

We  waited,  and  well-nigh  despaired. 

However,  the  next  morning,  as  we  were  I  r\  inir  to  M\  al- 
low the  sorrowful  meal  that  did  duty  for  breakfast,  a  joy- 
ful shout  rang  from  the  man  on  the  chief  watch: 

"  A  sail  !  a  sail  !" 

How  those  brief  syllables  nerved  anew  every  heart  in 
our  little  uroiip!  What  wild  pulsations  of  joy  and  reviv- 
ing hope  they  kindled  in  our  veins!  With  ra^er.  strain- 
ing eyes  we  ga/.ed  out  over  the  boundless  water  waste  to 
the  distant  southern  hori/.on. 

Would  those  on  board  note  the  tragedy  that  lay  before 
them  '.  That  was  I'm1  us  now  the  all-important  <|iiestion. 

For  some  time  the  ship  kept  on  in  her  straight-ahead 
course,  apparently  bearing  right  down  upon  us.  But 

at  length  we  grew  conscious  of  an  alarming  chaiiL1'  oi 

tactics.  As  might  have  been  expected,  the  vessel's '.-e 

was  being  altered  with  the  intention  of  giving  the  Hoe 
in  front  as  wide  a  berlh  as  was  practicable.  For  her 
crew  it  was  just  an  ordinary  measure  of  precaulion,  no- 
thing more  and  nothing  less,  but  to  us  it  meant  very  prob- 
ably sheer  destruction,  and  that  by  one  of  the  most  awful 
of  all  lingering  deaths.  Ah.  the  agonized  despair  of  that 
moment,  lads,  stamped  as  it  is  upon  my  memory  ! 

Hurriedly  one  of  our  party — it  chanced  to  be  myself  — 
climbed  with  numbed  limbs  and  hands  and  feet,  that  soon 
became  torn  and  bleeding  against  the  rough,  jagged  edges 
of  ice,  to  the  highest  attainable  peak  overhead,  and  hung 
out  thereupon  a  signal  of  distress — a  patched  blue  jacket 
stripped  from  one  of  the  shivering  wretches  below.  Any- 
thing to  attract  attention  to  our  forlorn  and  desperate 
condition. 

Then  with  parched  lips,  but  still  lusty  voices,  we  shout- 
ed together.  Once;  no  answer.  Again;  and  every  in- 
stant now  those  011  deck  of  this  passing  ship  were  becom- 
ing less  and  less  likely  to  have  their  notice  drawn  by  any 
means  to  us.  Again,  and  with  redoubled  force  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  our  woe,  we  shouted.  And,  again,  no  answer. 
Again,  and  yet  again,  we  cried  aloud,  with  all  the  concen- 
trated energy  of  our  sailor  lungs.  This,  the  fourth  time 
several  of  our  fellows  fancied  that  a  faint  answering  shout 
broke  the  harassing  stillness  that  succeeded  our  efforts. 
Once  more  we  halloed  together,  and  launched  the  skiff  as 
well. 

But  this  time  there  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  of  the 
joyful  fact  that  we  were  heard.  A  half  shifting  of  the 
vessel's  course,  a  louder,  more  distinct  cheer,  followed  by 
the  booming  of  a  gun,  proclaimed  it;  and  very  soon  a  boat 
was  seen  putting  off  from  the  ship's  side  and  coming  to- 
ward us. 

It  was,  however,  but  too  clear  that  their  boat  could  riot 
be  safely  brought  near  enough  to  the  ice  mass  for  us  to 
have  merely  to  step  down  into  it  as  we  had  previously 
stepped  up  from  our  raft.  We  were  therefore  under  the 
necessity  of  going  to  the  ledge  of  ice  nearest  our  deliverers, 
and  from  thence  leaping  into  the  sea  and  swimming  to  them. 

But  what  cared  we  for  that  ? 


Life  was  in  the  deed,  and  one  by  one  we  accomplished 
it;  those  who  could  barely  swim  a  yard  (not  so  uncommon 
a  thing  amongst  sailors  as  you  might  think)  being  very 
unceremoniously  hauled  into  the  boat  by  their  comrades. 
Four  of  our  wrecked  crew,  even  then,  were  obliged  to  slay 
on  their  disagreeable  refuge  a  bit  longer,  to  prevent  the 
risk  of  overcrowding.  It  was  not  a  great  while,  though, 
and  we  were  soon  together  again— a  nice  little  bundle  of 
castaways.  Once  privileged  to  find  our  tired  feet  again 
on  wooden  boards  instead  of  cold,  glittering  ice,  more  than 
one  or  two  of  our  poor  fellows  pretty  nearly  "knocked 
under,"  as  the  saying  goes.  What  with  the  intense  cold, 
the  want  of  rest,  the  awful  danger  they  had  fronted, 
the  alternate  despair  and  rapture  of  the  rescue,  1  don't 
think  that  that  is  at  all  a  matter  for  surprise. 

A  short  period  of  quiet,  and  the  kindly  attentions  of 
the  ship's  doctor  and  his  medicine  chest,  soon,  however, 
brought  them  round.  As  for  myself,  I  was  well  again  in 
much  less  time  than  any  one  would  have  imagined,  con- 
sidering my  youth  and  the  tender  sort  of  bringing  up  I 
had  bad. 

The  vessel  that  bad  effected  so  opportune  a  rescue  was 
the  (itiK'i-iiJ  \\'iifi//ingtou  —  her  destination  New  York, 
at  uhii-h  port  she\\as  not  long  in  arriving.  We  landed, 
and  from  thence  I  soon  found  an  opportunity  of  sailing 
back  to  Fngland.  after  writing  a  long  and  thankful  letter 
to  my  friends. 

Many  and  many  a  voyage  I've  taken  since  then,  as  you 
well  know,  my  hoys,  to  all  parts  of  tin-  globe  almost,  and 
not  few  are  the  "hair-breadth  "scapes" — as  folks  call  them 
— which  I  have  bad.  lint  somehow,  whether  because  of 
my  comparative  inexperience  at  the  time  I  can  not  say,  not 

has  impressed  so  much  as  "  My  strange  Christmas 

day   on  an  iceberg." 


THE  M  HI  IKY    A  I>\  KXTI"  II  KS  OF  ROBIN  HOOD. 

!:•!    !lo\\  AK'l)  I'YLE. 
II. 

E'P  rose  Robin  one  bright  morning,  and  said  be  to  his 
nierrymen  all.  "  For  fourteen  days  have  I  seen  no 
sport,  so  abroad  will  I  go:  but  if  ye  hear  me  blow  my 
horn,  come  quickly,  for  I  uill  need  your  aid.1'  So  saying 
he  strode  away  until  he  bad  come  out  from  the  forest. 

Now  he  met  a  gallant  knight,  now  a  pannier-laden  ass, 
now  a  merry  whistling  page,  now  a  couple  of  buxom  lass- 
es, and  now  a  fair  lady  on  an  ambling  pad,  but  adven- 
ture found  he  never  a  one. 

At  last  he  took  a  road  that  led  to  a  broad  stream 
spanned  by  a  narrow  bridge  made  of  a  great  log  of  wood. 
As  he  drew  nigh,  a  tall  stranger  approached  from  the  oth- 
er side;  thereupon  each  quickened  his  pace,  seeking  to 
cross  first. 

"Now  stand  back,"  quoth  Robin,  "and  let  the  better 
man  pass." 

"Then  stand  back  thyself," answered  the  stranger,  "  for 
the  better  man  am  I." 

"That  we  will  see,"  quoth  Robin;  "meantime  stand 
thou  still,  or  I  will  show  thee  good  Nottingham  play  with 
a  shaft  betwixt  thy  ribs." 

"Now, "quoth  the  stranger,  "I'll  tail  thy  hide  if  thou 
dost  touch  a  finger  to  that  bowstring." 

' '  Thou  pratest  like  a  fool, "  said  Robin,  ' '  for  I  could  send 
this  arrow  through  thy  heart  before  thou  couldst  wink."' 

"And  thou  pratest  like  a  coward,  to  shoot  at  one  who 
hath  but  a  hawthorn  staff  to  meet  thee  with." 

"Now,"'  quoth  Robin,  "coward's  name  I  have  never 
had ;  and  if  thou  darest  abide  my  coming,  I  will  go  cut  me 
a  staff  to  meet  thee  with." 

"Ay,  gladly  will  I  abide  thy  coming,"  answered  the 
stranger,  and  leaned  right  sturdily  upon  his  staff. 

Then  Robin  stepped  quickly  to  the  cover-side,  and  cut  a 
good  staff  of  ground-oak,  straight,  without  flaw,  and  six 


172 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


land.  "  I  must  own  thou  art  a  stout  lad  with  the  cudgels. 
Marry,  my  head  hummetli  like  a  hive  of  bees."  Then  he 
clapped  his  bugle  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  blast  both  loud  and 
clear,  and  after  a  space  the  thickets  swayed  and  rustled 
with  the  coming  of  men,  and  presently  Will  Stutely  and 
a  score  of  yeomen  burst  from  out  the  covert. 

"Good  master," cried  Will,  "  how  is  this ? — thou  art  all 
wet  from  head  to  foot." 

"Why,-"  quoth  Robin,  "yonder  stout  fellow  hath  tum- 
bled me  into  the  water,  and  beaten  me  into  the  bargain." 

"Then  shall  he  not  go  without  ducking  and  drubbing 
himself,  "said  Will.  "At  him,  lads!"  Thereat  all  leaped 
upon  the  stranger;  but  he  struck  right  and  left  so  that 
though  he  went  down  with  press  of  numbers,  many  rubbed 
cracked  crowns  thereat. 

"Nay,  forbear."  cried  Robin,  laughing  until  his  sore 
bones  ached.  "  He  is  a  good  man  and  true.  Say,  merry 
blade,  wilt  join  with  us?  Three  suits  of  Lincoln  green 
shalt  thou  have  every  year,  and  share  and  share  alike 
with  vis.  Thou  shalt  be  my  own  good  right-hand  man, 
for  never  did  I  see  thy  like  in  a  merry  bout  at  cudgels." 

"Why  should  I  join  ye?"  said  the  stranger,  surlily. 
"Who  be  ye  that  fall  a  score  upon  one  man  ?" 

"I  am  Robin  Hood,"  said  the  outlaw,  "and  these  are 
some  of  my  merrymeu." 

"Ha!"  cried  the  stranger,  "art  thou  Robin  Hood  in- 
deed? Marry,  had  I  known  that  I  would  not  so  have 
thwacked  thy  ribs.  Truly  I  will  join  with  you  gladly." 

"Well  said,"  cried  Robin  Hood.  "And  what  is  thy 
name  ?" 

"  Men  do  call  me  John  Little." 


ROBIN    MEETS    A    FAIR    LADY. 

feet  long;  then  presently  came  back  trimming  away  the 
twigs  and  branches. 

Tall  and  stont  was  Robin,  but  taller  and  stouter  was  the 
stranger,  for  the  old  songs  say  he  was  a  good  seven  feet 
high. 

"Ne'ertheless,"  said  Robin  to  himself,  "I  trust  I  can 
baste  him  right  merrily."  Then  he  said,  aloud:  "Lo! 
here  is  my  staff;  now  meet  me  if  thou  darest,"  and 
straightway  stepped  upon  the  bridge. 

Then  came  the  stranger  twirling  his  staff,  and  met  Rob- 
in midway  over  the  stream. 

Never  did  knights  of  Arthur's  round  table  meet  in 
stouter  fight  than  did  those  two.  For  one  good  hour 
they  fought  with  stroke  and  parry,  the  blows  rattling  like 
hail  on  pent-house  shed  until  here  and  there  were  sore 
bones  and  bumps;  yet  neither  gave  way  a  single  foot. 
Now  and  then  they  stopped  to  rest,  panting, -and  each 
thought  in  his  heart  that  never  had  he  met  so  stout  a 
youth  in  all  his  life  before.  At  last  Robin  gave  the 
stranger  a  blow  that  made  his  jacket  smoke,  and  nearly 
tumbled  him  oft'  the  bridge.  But  the  youth  quickly  re- 
gained himself,  and  gave  Robin  a  crack  on  the  crown  that 
fetched  the  blood,  and  then,  ere  he  could  regain  himself, 
another  that  fairly  tumbled  him  heels  over  head  into  the 
water. 

"And  where  art  thou  now,  good  lad?"  shouted  the 
stranger,  roaring  with  laughter. 

"Oh,  in  the  tlood,  and  floating  adowii  with  the  tide," 
cried  Robin,  laughing  at  his  own  sorry  plight.  Then 
gaining  his  feet,  he  waded  splashing  to  the  bank. 

"Give  me  thy  hand, "cried  he,  when  he  stood  on  dry 


ROBIN    ENCOUNTERS    JOHN    LITTLE. 


JAN'TTARY  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


173 


Then  up  spake  Will  Stutely:  ''I  like  thy  name,  good 
fellow,  and  yet. I  like  it  not.  John  Little  hast  thou  been 
culled,  Little  John  shall  thou  be  called  henceforth." 

Then  all  shouted  and  laughed  and  clapped  their  hands, 
and  Little  John  was  he  called  forever  afterward. 

Then  they  all  entered  the  forest,  through  which  they 
travelled  until  they  came  to  the  great  oak-tree  beneath 
which  the  band  slept  through  all  the  mellow  summer 
nights.  And  there  they  held  a  great  feast,  which  Will 
St  iiii-lv  called  the  christening  feast.  And  thus  it  was  that 
Kobin  Hood  gained  his  good  right-baud  man,  the  famous 
Little  John. 


T1HERE  was  an  old  man  in  Tobago 
Who  lived  on  rice,  gruel,  and  sui^o; 
Till,  mucl]  to  his  bliss, 
His  physician  said  this: 
''To  a  leg,  sir,  of  mutton  you  may  go." 


ADILLER,  a  dollar,  a  ten-o'clock  scholar, 
What  makes  you  come  so  soon  ? 
You  used  to  come  at  ten  o'clock, 
But  now  you  come  at  noon. 


HANDY  SPANDY,  Jack-a-dandy, 
Loves  plum-cake  and  sugar-candy ; 
He  bought  some  at  a  grocer's  shop, 
And  out  be  come,  bop,  hop,  bop. 


JACK  be  nimble,  Jack  be  quick; 
Aud  Jack  jump  over  the  candlestick. 


174 


IIARPEIl'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VnT.l'MK  IV 


school.  I  was  twelve 
years  old  on  tbe  second 
day  of  October. 

CHABLES  E.  T. 

A  VISIT  TO  POHILL. 

My  dear  friends,  I 
hope  you  will  tie  satis- 
tied  with  my  story. 

One  day  I  went  on  a 
large  hill  in  the  town  of 
Salisbury,  and  it  is  call- 
ed Powow,  or  Pohill. 

It  is  about  a  mile 
from  my  father's  house, 
which  is  in  the  town  of 
Amesbury. 

I  don't  know  how 
high  the  hill  is.  In  tin- 
distance  I  saw  some 
mountains  in  New 
Hampshire,  and  a 
mountain  in  Maine, 
which,  I  suppose,  is 
Mount  Agamenticus.  I 
could  also  see  Salis- 
bury Beach.  Hampton 
Beach,  and  the  Isles  of 
Shoals.  Below  me  were 
the  towns  of  Ames- 
bury  and  Salisbury ; 
on  the  west  is  a  beau- 
tiful lake.  The  hill  got 
its  name  from  the  In- 
dians, who  used  to  hold 
rwows  on  it.  There 
a  river  by  the  same 
name.  There  was  a 
very  sharp  wind  on  the 
top  of  Pohill  when  I 
went  up.  I  am  nine 
years  old,  and  go  to  the 
intermediate  School, 
and  my  name  is 

GERTRUDE  C. 


THREE  LITTLE   SISTERS. 


KITTY,  Eloise.  and  Prue, 

Just  as  sweet  as  they  can  be  ! 
Golden  locks  and  eyes  of  blue 

Have  these  little  sisters  three. 

Hats  and  feathers  like  as  peas, 
Trim  and  trig  from  top  to  toe, 


"Won't  you  kiss  us,  if  you  please? 
For  to  church  we  mean  to  go." 

Six  small  hands  in  three  small  muffs 
Six  wee  feet  that  skip  along ; 

Let  the  snow  come  down  in  puffs, 
They  will  greet  it  with  a  song. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

GARDEN  CITY,  NEW  YORK. 

DEAR  YOUNG  PEOPLE,— We  have  enjoyed  this 
evening  singing  to  the  chapelful  of  happy  people 
your  beautiful  carol, 

"Come,  children,  with  singing," 

the  words  of  which  we  learned  by  heart.  There 
are  eight  of  us.  and  standing  in  a  row,  we  just 
filled  the  space  on  the  second  step  of  the  chancel, 
between  the  two  outer  Christmas  decorations. 

Grateful  to  you  for  this  pleasure.  w»-  sign  our- 
selves Your  twelve-year-old  friends. 

HELEN,     RUTH,      CELIA,     BEUTHA. 

MABEL.     KATIE,    EDITH,     VIOLET. 

Jloly  Innocents'  Day,  December  28,  1882. 

These  eight  dear  girls  have  done  a  very  grace- 
ful and  courteous  thing  in  sending  us  this  plea- 
sant note.  It  must  have  been  beautiful  to  see 
ami  hear  them.  And  we  are  very  happy  to  know 
that  our  carol  added  to  the  enjoyment  and  aided 
in  the  worship  of  those  who  assisted  at  the 
i  'bristmas  festival  of  the  little  people  of  Garden 
City. 

We  are  always  grateful  to  teachers  who,  taking 
an  interest  in  the  progress  of  their  pupils,  encour- 
age them  to  write  for  the  Post-office  Box.  Of 
the  little  budget  received  from  Miss  M.  E.  T., 
Amesbury,  Massachusetts,  we  can  not  print  all 
the  letters,  and  we  select  two — Gertrude's  be- 
cause she  is  the  youngest  of  the  correspondents, 
and  Charles's  ln'rause  we  imagine  it  cost  him  the 
most  trouble  to  write  his  littlr  story.  Miss  T.  will 
please  ask  her  pupils  to  \vrite  again  some  other 
time. 

AMESBURY,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  my  cat.  She  is  very 
gentle,  and  will  play  with  me.  One  night  I  had 
come  home  from  work,  as  I  work  nights  in  tbe 
hat  shop;  tin-  cat  came  and  jumped  upon  me. 
While  I  \v;is  reading  tin-  story  of  "  The  Crui-'p  <  >t' 
the  Canoe  Club"  my  cat  would  come  and  jump 
upon  the  table,  and  walk  around,  ami  tln-n  come 
down  in  my  lap.  and  make  me-  stop  reading,  and 
play  with  her;  and  if  I  didn't,  slit-  would  play 
with  nir  until  I  did.  and  when  I  went  to  bed  she 
would  follow  me.  I  put  a  little  box  under  my 
bed.  which  I  kept  for  her  to  sleep  in.  She  would 
jump  into  it  and  go  to  sleep.  When  she  heard 
me  get  up  she  would  get  up  too,  and  go  down- 
stairs with  me  for  breakfast. 

I  am  already  reading  in  the  Fourth  Reader  in 


NEW  JERSEY. 

All  the  girls  and  boys 
are  writing  about  their 
pets,  so  I  thought  I 
would  tell  you  about  a 
little  monkey  we  own- 
ed once.  His  name  was 
Nip.  He  was  a  dear  lit- 
tle fellow,  very  affec- 
tionate and  cunning, 
but  an  awful  little  mis- 
chief. One  of  his  many  pranks  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  about.  It  was  played  upon  the  cook. 
He  was  very  fond  of  being  in  the  kitchen  with 
her,  for  she  petted  him  a  good  deal. 

Nip  used  to  see  her  put  the  clothes  in  the  boil- 
er ;  and  one  week,  when  she  had  the  whole  wash 
ready  to  bring  upstairs,  but  left  it  in  the  kitchen 
overnight.  Master  Nip  got  hold  of  the  clothes, 
and  put  them  in  the  boiler  of  soap-suds.  So  when 
cook  got  down-stairs  the  next  morning  there 
were  all  her  beautifully  laundried  clothes  ready 
to  be  done  up  afresh. 

\\'hi'n  we  were  coming  away  from  New  York 
we  Lrave  him  to  a  friend  of  ours,  who  wanted 
him  ycry  badly.  lie  saw  this  gentleman  on..  il;iy 
making  salad  dressing,  and  when  the  gentleman 
had  gone  away.  Nip  took  the  bottle  of  sweet-oil 
and  the  must  aril  cruet,  and  mixed  them  together 
on  the  handsome  new  lounge.  That  was  more 
than  the  gentleman  could  stand,  so  he  sent  him 
to  Central  Park,  and  there  he  is  now,  I  suppose. 
Please  print  this  letter,  as  it  is  the  first  one  I 
have  written,  and  I  am  sick  in  bed.  Good-by. 
GERTIE  S.  W. 

Monkeys  are  droll  creatures  certainly,  and 
yours  is  quite  worthy  a  place  in  the  Post-office 
Box.  When  I  next  go  to  Central  Park  I  will  li  iok 
out  for  Nip.  I  would  rather  see  him  there,  if  I 
were  you,  than  to  be  afraid  of  his  playing  some 
funny  prank  in  my  home  at  an  inconvenient  time. 


NASHVILLE,  TENNESSEE. 

I  am  a  little  boy  twelve  years  old.  I  live  in 
tin'  rountrs  two  and  a  half  miles  from  Nash- 
ville, and  I  go  to  school  on  a  little  black  pony.  I 
like  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  so  much  that  I  send 
one  dollar  and  a  half  to  renew  it  for  next  yi-ar. 
I  have  two  brothers  (Duke  and  Jim*,  and  as  si  ion 
as  the  paper  comes  there  is  a  scramble  for  it.  and 
sometimes  a  quarrel.  I  like  Jimmy  Brown's  sto- 
ries very  much.  I  am  just  getting  over  a  bad 
sore  throat,  and  I  have  to  stay  at  home.  We 
have  a  large  black  Newfoundland  dog  named 
Jet.  and  four  pet  kittens.  We  put  two  in  the 
wagon  to  send  away.  One  jumped  out  and  ran 
back  to  the  house,  but  the  other  jumped  out  on 
the  road  somewhere  and  was  lost.  I  am  fond 
of  drawing,  and  I  draw  a  gnud  many  maps.  I 
am  m;iking  collrctions  of  bullets,  Indian  arrows, 
etc.  Last  week.when  the  creek  was  frozen  hard, 
I  went  down  to  try  to  skate  on  it.  I  skated  very 
well  for  a  while,  but  got  tired  of  it.  so  I  tried  to 
get  a  smoother  place,  and  I  slipped  down. 

W.  O.  J. 

I  hope  you  three  brothers  will  not  quarrel  over 
the  possession  of  your  favorite  paper,  though  I 


am  very  glad  you  care  so  much  for  it  that  you 
are  happy  when  you  see  its  bright  face  week  by 
week.  I  used  to  skate,  though  I  fear  I  could  not 
now,  and  I  remember  the  pleasure  of  gliding 
swiftly  over  the  smooth  ice.  It  was  such  a  plea- 
sure that  I  did  not  mind  an  occasional  fall,  and  I 
suppose  my  little  skating  friends  find  a  tumble 
now  and  then  a  part  of  the  fun. 


GREEN  BAY,  WISCONSIN. 

Merry  Christmas,  dear  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE !  I  am  having  a  good  time  getting  ready  for 
Christmas.  Tell  Jimmy  Brown  not  to  do  any- 
thing but  eat,  sleep,  and  sit  in  a  chair,  and  then 
see  if  he  gets  into  any  more  scrapes.  But  that 
would  be  hard  for  a  boy  so  lively  as  Jimmy.  I 
think  it  is  not  right  for  his  father  to  tell  him  his 
conduct  has  been  such  so  often,  for  I  do  not  think 
he  means  to  do  any  harm.  My  cousin  thinks  Sue 
ought  to  get  the  whippings  sometimes,  and  1 
think  so  too. 

I  wish  Miss  L.  M.  Alcott  was  my  cousin,  or  that 
I  could  even  see  her  for  a  month  or  two.  i  would 
ask  her  an  awful  lot  of  questions.  We  have  got 
the  books  she  wrote,  Littlt  M<  n  and  lAttli-  \\'<>in*n. 
I  hope  she  will  keep  up  that  story,  or  else  write 
a  new  one. 

We  have  not  got  one  pet.  My  mamma  has  weak 
eyes,  and  the  doctor  won't  let  her  read  much.  I 
went  to  the  play  of  I'nclt1  TIHU'X  Cabin  when  it 
was  here  last,  and  I  thought  it  was  nice. 

I  want  to  belong  to  the  Cooking  club.  I  hope 
my  letter  is  not  too  long  to  be  printed.  I  have 
m-ver  seen  but  one  letter  from  Green  Bay  in  the 
Post-office  Box.  SADIE  E.  L. 

Of  course  Sadie  shall  be  a  member  of  our  So- 
ciable. Jimmy  Brown  will  be  comforted  by  her 
sympathy. 

Will  Sadie  tell  papa  that  we  are  very  much 
obliged  for  his  kind  words  at  the  foot  of  his 
daughter's  letter?  We  hope  there  are  a  great 
many  parents  who  consider  YOUNG  PEOPLE  "al- 
most as  good  as  school"  for  their  children. 

Mrs.  Mary  C.  L.,  whose  kind  New-Year's  mes- 
sage is  appreciated,  will  please  accept  our  thanks 
for  her  encouraging  words. 


FOREST  HOME,  ALABAMA. 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  old.  I  am  going  to 
school  at  home  to  my  eldest  sister,  who  has  just 
returned  from  school,  and  I  like  her  very  much 
as  a  teacher.  This  is  my  first  letter  to  YOUNG 
PEOPLE.  I  like  it  ever  so  much.  We  have  only 
taken  it  about  six  months.  I  have  ever  so  much 
fun  with  my  little  oxen  when  I  hitch  them  up. 
Their  names  are  Dick  and  Shad.  Dick  can  open 
a  gate  with  his  horn.  Gus  J. 

The  next  is  from  Gus's  little  sister. 

FOREST  HOME. 

This  is  my  first  letter  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  Papa 
began  taking  it  this  year  for  my  little  brother 
and  myself.  I  like  the  story  of  "The  Cruise  of 
the  <  'anoe  Club."  written  by  W.  L.  Alden.  best  of 
all  the  stories  I  have  read  yet.  I  am  very  fond 
of  riding,  and  my  sister  and  I  often  go  together 
for  long  rides  in  tin-  afternoon.  We  live  in  the 
country,  and  our  house  is  named  the  "Forest 
Home."  I  have  a  cow  named  Pinkie,  and  I  can 
milk  her  myself  she  is  so  gentle.  BETTIE  K.  J. 


WHAT  THE  CHILDREN  SAID. 

BY    RUBY    ROSSER  (AGED  9  YEARS). 

Four  little  stockings 

Hanging  in  a  row. 

Crammed  with  nuts  and  candies 

From  top  to  toe. 
What  did  the  children  say 
When  they  woke  at  break  of  day? 

"Here  are  nuts 

And  here  are  candies, 

Here  are  dolls 

And  dancing  dandies." 
That  is  what  each  one  did  say, 
When  they  woke  at  break  of  day. 

fTLEK,    MISSOURI. 


ABBEVILLE  COUNTY,  SOUTH  CAROI.INA. 

As  I  have  rot  seen  a  letter  in  the  Post-office 
Box  from  this  part  of  the  country,  I  will  write 
one.  We  had  tine  weather— the  sun  shining 
warm,  and  the  birds  and  Mowers  here  with  us — 
until  the  20th  of  November  last,  when  it  grew 
cold,  and  sleet  fell;  the  next  day  it  snowed.  I 
have  t«"  brothers,  both  younger  than  myself.  I 
can  not  play  snow-ball  with  them,  because  my 
eyes  are  not  well.  I  have  given  my  box  flowers 
a  warm  corner  in  the  bouse,  but  I  am  afraid  they 
will  die.  I  have  no  pit  for  them.  I  think  "  Nan" 
is  a  splendid  story,  and  even  grandma  says  she 
is  interested  in  it.  I  wish  Jimmy  Hrown  would 
write  every  week.  I  like  to  draw'-,  but  have  nev- 
er taken  lessons  yet.  I  sew  for  my  dolls.  George 
has  a  little  white'bantam  rooster,  that  crows  very 
often. 


JANTARY  16,  18S3. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


175 


\\  e  go  to  Sunday-school,  (in  the  first  Sunday  in 
December  pri/.es  will  be  Driven  to  the  scholars 
who  have  been  punctual  and  recited  good  lessons 

this  year.  My  papa  is  the  superintendent  of  the 
school.  We  do  not  deserve  so  much  credit  for 
In  'in;;  inuictual  as  some  little  hoys  and  girls  who 
walk  a  long  way  and  come  to  our  .Sunday-school. 
We  try  to  know  our  lessons  every  time.  When  I 
am  older  papa  says  In-  will  take  me  to  Florida  to 
sec  his  orange  grove.  Grandpa  has  been  to  New 
York.  LUCY  M.  C. 

These  funny  jingles  are  gravely  repeated,  to 
the  amusement  of  the  family,  by  a  wee  lisping 
maiden  three  years  old. 

A  BATRACHIAN  BALLAD. 
When  Bully  Frog 
Was  Polly  Wog 
He  had  a  lovely  tail ; 

lie   wiggled    ill. 
And   wiggled  out. 
And  thought  himself  a  whale. 

The  old  Cow  Frog 

Sobbed  on  a  log 
Because  .1/1,  had  no  tail. 

While  Heifer  Frogs 

From  distant  hogs 
Took  up  tile  dismal  wail, 

For  her  son  Tad, 

The'  naughty  lad. 
Poruiirirlod  out  to  sea  : 

His  heart  was  like 

A  railroad  frog — 
So  hard  to  his  Ma-iuee. 

••  His  tail  he'll  lose— 

He'll  work  it  loose  !" 
She  croaked  in  such  a  note 

So  hoarse  and  sad 

You'd  think  she  had 
A  frog  within  her  throat. 

Soon  I'olly  Wig. 
(If  lule  so  big. 

Felt  full  of  kiuks  and  sore; 

1 1  is  weary  snout 

lie  turned  abi  »ut . 
And  headed  straight  for  shore. 

I, anil,  land  at  last  ! 

His  breath  came  fast, 
Hut  dried  up  was  his  tail. 

With  eyes  now  dull. 

He's  Sitting  Hull 
Frog  croaking  in  the  dale. 


IHVINWOOD,  VlR^IMA. 

I  have  just  read  Rosalie  P.'s  letter,  and  I  can 
sympathize  with  her.  for  I  too  am  delicate,  and 
can  not  study  all  the  time,  and  "hardly  know 
anything."  though  Iain  nearly  sixteen.  We  have 
a  large  family.  Too.  and  only  one  servant,  so  I 

gencrallv  "  \va-h  I  lie  dishes."  but  I  do  not  dislike 

it.  as  [  follow  very  nearly  the  plan  of  our  dear 
Postmistress. 

This  summer  my  mamma  was  very  poorly,  and 
the  doctor  said  sin -must  go  to  the  Ha'wley  Springs 
fora  rest  and  the  tonic  of  its  strong  chalybeate 
water.  It  was  all  so  sudden  that  mamma  was 
gone  almost  before  I  knew  it.  We  were  without 
a  i k  then,  but  I  got  along  very  nicely,  consider- 
ing that  we  hail  a  good  deal  of  company,  and  I 
had  never  been  left  alone  that  way  before.  I  had 
to  learn  things  as  best  I  could.  It  seemed  so 
strange  not,  to  have  dear  mamma  to  go  to  for 
help  In  my  difficulties!  I  did  everything  except 
make  bread,  so  we  had  to  use  baker's  bread.  I 
determined  sueh  another  occasion  should  not 
find  me  unprepared,  so  when  mamma  came  home, 
after  a  mouth's  recuperation,  I  learned  how  to 
make  yeast  bread,  biscuit,  pies,  and  cake.  lam  real 
glad  now  I  had  all  that  to  do,  for  I  know  that  it 
did  me  a  lasting  good.  I  intend  to  be  a  nice  "Vir- 
ginia housekeeper."  like  some  ladies  I  know  here. 

As  to  aprons,  I  feel  sorry  for  Miss  Rosalie,  but 
I  enjoy  making  them  pretty,  and  wearing  them 
•  too,  though  I  am  not  compelled  to  wear  them 
constantly. 

Dear  Postmistress,  I  hope  you  will  have  a 
"Young  Housekeepers'  Sociable."  I  think  the 
idea  is  splendid,  and  will  send  you  my  name. 
Did  you  witness  the  transit  of  Venus ?  I  saw  it 
through  a  piece  of  smoked  glass,  at  school  inter- 
mission, low  down  on  the  sun's  disk,  to  the  right 
of  the  centre,  looking  very  different  from  the 
brilliant  Venus  of  a  few  weeks  ago.  We  like 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  more  and  more. 

MAY  H.  S. 

Please  describe  to  the  Sociable  your  method  of 
making  bread.  Yes,  I  tried  to  see  the  transit. 


Perhaps  some  of  you  would  like  to  try  your 
skill  at  playing 

WORDS  AND  QUESTIONS. 

ADA.  As  we  have  so  many  players  past  twelve 
years  old  this  evening.  I  think  we  had  better  have 
a  game  of  Words  and  Questions. 

COUSIN  WALTER.  You  must  first  tell  us  what  it 
is.  I  do  not  remember  ever  seeing  it  played. 

ADA.  We  are  to  write  on  slips  of  paper  a  num- 
ber of  questions  (let  us  each  write  one),  fold  them 


up.  and  put  them  in  a  hat  or  basket.  Then  we 
take  an  equal  number  of  papers,  on  which  we 
write  nouns— a  noun  on  each  slip.  Now  let  us 
do  that  first.  Charley  lias  brought  us  some  pa- 
per and  pencils.  We  will  write  a  question  and  a 
noun  each 

Fi  ir  a  few  minutes  afterward  silence  prevailed, 
while  the  merry  party  assembled  round  the  draw- 
ing-room table  busily  concocted  and  wrote  down 
their  questions.  An  occasional  but  instantly  sup- 
pressed titter  intimated  that  some  few  at  least 
were  •  >f  a  laughable  description. 

\\  ALT-HI!.  Well,  Ada.  our  papers  are  written; 
what  shall  we  dit  in >w  :' 

ADA.  ( 'harley  will  hand  them  round  separately, 
and  we  must  each  draw  a  question  and  a  noun. 
Then  we  arc  to  answer  the  question  in  rhyme, 
and  briiiLrthc  noun  into  the  answer. 

Pnii.ii'.  It  sounds  rather  difficult.  How  if  I  am 
not  poetical? 

Am.  The  more  absurd  your  rhymes  are.  the 
better;  they  will  afford  us  more  cause  for  laugh- 
ter. 

(  IIM:I.I:V.  Well,  mine  won't  disappoint  you, 
then. 

WALTER.  But  I  don't  approve  of  being  laughed 
at. 

>  'IIAUI.KY.  Then  give  us  something  very  "stun, 
uing  "  llui,  in  reality,  no  one  can  be  laughed  at 
personally,  for  the  questions  and  answers  are  read 
on!  liy  Nora,  who  will  not  tell  us  the  author's 
name  of  any  one  of  them,  even  if  she  recognizes 
the  hand\\  riling 

Thcv  an-\M-r  tticir  <|iiestions.  Each  player,  as 
his  slip  is  written,  rolls  it  up  and  puts  it  into  a 
basket  before  Nora,  who  at  last  shakes  them 
about,  and  selects  one  at  hazard. 

NOKA.  The  quest  ion  is— It'  you  had  your  < 'In  nee. 
which  would  you  be.  a  dragon-fly  or  an  eel?  The 
word  to  be  brought  into  the  answer  is  Koses. 

The  dragon  tly  at  eve  reposes 

Vpon  the  clust'line  scarlet   Kosc*: 

The  ee!  lies  buried  in  dark  green  slime: 

(  an  you  ask,  cousin,  which  choice  is  mine? 

PiiiMr.  Bravo!  that's  first-rate. 

NORA.  Here  is  another.  Ah:  I  guess  the  au- 
thor by  the  style.  Word— Rope-dancer,  (,'uc-. 
Hull— Which  do  you  prefer.  (  a/sar  or  Poiiipcy  ? 

Great  were  old  ca-sar  and  Pompey, 

Seldom    their  equal    you    sec  ; 

(ii'eat  is  Itloniliu  the  rope-dancer: 
Which  is  the  best  of  the  three? 
Answer  //"  / 

AHA.  I  never  could  write  rhymes. 

NORA,  (ih  !  it  will  do  very  well.  What  is  here? 
Word  -North  I'ole.  Question— What  do  yon  think 
of  the  Crystal  1'alacc  :• 

From  the  North  I'ole  to  the  South 

You  won't  find  such  another; 
This  is  tin-  true  opinion 

Uf  your  very  intelligent  brother. 

A  in.  Thai's  Charley  : 

CHAKM-.Y.  You  an-  'not  to  reveal  authorships  ; 
we  are  all  (Jreat  Unknowns  here.  But  it  is  as 
^ I  as  the  last. 

NOKA.  This  is  a  nice  one — What  do  you  think 
of  travelling  in  an  air-balloon  ':  The  noun  drawn 
was  Cobweb.  The  rhyme  on  the  two  is 

I  confess  1  should  not  greatly  care 
To  noat  like  a  Cobweb  in  the  air. 

Next  comes— How  many  feet  has  a  spider? 
Word— Nonsense. 

Not  being  a  naturalist,  like  White  of  Sel- 

Borne,  I  really  can  not  such  wonders  tell. 
It  was  nonsense  to  ask  a  fel- 
Low  such  stuff.     Farewell. 
Thus  the  game  went  on.    Our  young  readers 
are  so  bright  that  they  will  probably  surpass  the 
examples  given  them  here  when  they  try  this 
game  themselves. 

Will  the  boy  who  exchanged  with  Frank  Mar- 
ion, Syracuse.  Xew  York,  please  send  his  address 
that  he  may  receive  his  package  in  return  ? 


ORPHANISM. — Attention,  young  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  spelling  class!  Take  your  places 
in  order,  and  listen.  How  many  good  English 
words  can  you  make  from  the  letters  which  ap- 
pear in  the  word  "  Orphanism"  ?  Write  out  your 
lists  plainly,  and  send  them  to  HARPER'S  Y'OUNO 
PEOPLE.  We  wish  to  see  whose  list  will  be  the 
longest.  Y'ou  will  find  it  pleasant  work  for  a 
winter  evening. 

We  repeat,  for  the  information  of  new  sub- 
scribers, that  there  is  no  charge  for  the  publica- 
tion of  exchanges.  Do  not  offer  or  ask  for  birds' 
eggs  or  fire-arms  ;  both  are  prohibited  in  the  ex- 
change list.  Please  state,  in  the  first  place,  what 
you  have,  and  then  what  you  wish  to  receive. 
Write  plainly  with  biack  ink,  and  be  very  particu- 
lar to  give  your  name  and  post-office  address  cor- 
rectly. Y'our  exchange  will  appear  in  four  or 
five  weeks  after  the  date  of  its  reception  at  the 
office  of  Y'OUNG  PEOPLE.  To  avoid  disappoint- 


ment and  misunderstanding,  it  is  always  well  to 
arrange  the  details  of  an  exchange  by  correspond- 
ence before  sending  away  any  article  which  you 
value.  It  is  prudent  to  state,  as  precisely  as  you 
can.  \\hat  sort  of  curiosities,  stamps,  or  other  ar- 
ticles you  desire,  as  exchanges  which  simply  an- 
nounce lists  of  curiosities  or  other  things  for 
"i  'ft'crs"  are  not  inserted.  Articles  for  sale  can 
not  be  included  in  the  Exchange  Department, 
which  is  intended  only  for  the  pleasure  and  in- 
struction of  our  young  readers. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 
A   GEOi;K.\I'III<  AL  JUMBLE. 

A  thrifty  lady  in  a  dress  of  (town  in  New  South 
Wales),  and  carrying  unie  of  the  Sunda  islands) 
fan.  went  out  to  buv  a  new  set  of  (an  empire  in 
Asia',  she  had  a  desire  to  shine  in  (islands  in 
the  Pacific',  and  sent  tor  her  (mountain  in  Ore- 
gon: (a  city  in  Idaho,  a  city  in  Georgia,  and  a  city 
in  Illinois  i  to  aid  in  the  selection.  Having  bought, 
some  delicate  cups  and  saucers  from  la  beautiful 
city  in  Francei.  she  bought  plates  from  (a  city  in 
Prussia),  and  carved  platters  from  the  (mount- 
ains in  Switzerland!,  she  proceeded  to  order  a 

supper.      She  bought  (Vegetable  from  Minnesota), 

(fruit  from  Spain  and  Italy!,  fish  from  the  Medi- 
terranean, and  many  other  things.  Lighting  her 

sal i.  she  found  the  (town  in  North  of  scot 

la  a- 1 1  of  the  caudles  troublesome.  She  called  her 
servant  (mountain  in  Scotland), and  ordered  him 
to  bring  her  oil  from  (the  sea  ou  the  cast  of  Sibe- 
ria'. Her  carpets  were  (a  city  in  lielginmi.  her 
perl  iimes  came  from  la  city  on  the  Rhine),  her 
curtains  from  la  town  on  the  Trent),  her  coal 
trom  i.-i  town  on  the  Tyne),  and  her  knives  and 
fork-  irom  (two  busy  manufacturing  towns  of 
England!.  JENNIE  FAY. 

No.  2. 

UNITED  DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  A  very  large  serpent.  3.  A 
tailor's  utensil.  4.  An  Egyptian  reptile.  5.  A  let- 
ter. 

2.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  The  ocean.  3.  A  small  fruit. 
(.Dexterity.  5.  A  letter.  KINO  CHARLES. 


No.  3. 
Nehw  retniw  sdnwi  ear  crpiegni  liehl. 

i)an  ghonrhl  eth  wahohtnr  swolb  hct  clag, 
Ilitw  loscnm  tfce  I  daert  het  lib.) 

Taht   rcvoorbsw  eht  clonyl  elav. 
Erchw  switdet  ilnnor  het  nerrab  kao 

Teh  musrcm  eyin  ni  ytuaeb  gnuel. 
Una  reminds  diwiis  eht  Ilitsenss  rbkeo. 

Eht  yrsclat  icleic  si  gnuh. 
Sala  wuli  ilegnaeli  morf  eht  riaf  enesc 

Ncwh  ribsd  agns  tuo  reiht  wollem  yal. 
Dan  sdniw  crew  tfos  dan  sdoow  erew  neerg, 

Dan  eht  gnos  desaec  ton  htwi  teh  yud. 

Name  the  poet  and  the  poem. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  UK. 

No.  1.  FARM 

ASIA 

RIO  T 

MATE 

CARD  ZEAL 

AJAR  E  L   S    K 

RARE  ASIA 

DREW  LEAD 

No.  2.  West  Point. 

Toy.    Tin.    Sew. 

No.  3.  Snowball. 

No.  4.  S      ina     I 

A  nania  S 

R    am     A 

A      nn     A 

II     avo    C 


Key  to  Geographical  story  on  page  128  of  No. 
165— Christmas  Island.  Allen.  Snowy  Mountains, 
Tom,  Sophia,  christchurch.  Peace,  Unity,  Holy, 
St.  Christopher.  Sandal -wood.  Amber.  Bug, 
Strong,  Clare.  Grace.  Lowell,  Holly.  Desire.  Clear, 
Cardigan.  Lot.  Snow  Mountains.  Crystal  Mount- 
ains. Falls,  Gay,  Crew,  Cross,  Icy,  Wind,  Hush, 
March. 

Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Caro  Lubee,  Anna  Dorchester,  Horace  May, 
Theodore  King,  J.  Schwartz,  Lillie  Schwartz,  Al- 
fred M.  Bloomingdale,  Lewis  Adrian,  "C.  De 
(Jangue."  Martin  Ziin,  Ethel  Bailey.  Clara  John- 
son. Freddy  Van  Nyse.  "Twilight,"  Henry  and 
Helen  Rogers,  Arabella  F..  Mabel.  Molly,  and  Vir- 
gic  McCoy.  Daisy  nix.  Walter  May.  olive  Raynor, 
George  Stunt, Caspar  Peck,  Dave  K.,R.C.D.,A. 
}'..  Duncan  M.  Stewart,  John  Hems,  Charley  B., 
Archie  Hughes.  Robert  II.  Vose.  Jennie  A,  Will- 
son,  Joe  and  Mamie  Tionan.  Maria  Dezendorff, 
Alice  White.  Sarah  .1.  Clark.  Phebe  Brown,  Emily 
H.,  Lottie  McKee,  Clem  and  Dick  S. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.'] 


176 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  FEAST  OF  LAN- 
TERNS. 

BY  G.  B.  BARTLETT. 

TI^HE  name  is  borrowed  from 
_1_  the  Chinese,  but  the  en- 
tertainment itself  has  little 
reference  to  their  ancient  cns- 
toui.  It  may  lie  performed  in 
many  "ways  more  or  less  sim- 
ple, lint  will  here  be  adapted 
to  a  large  hall  with  all  the 
various  performances,  any  of 
•which  can  be  omitted  when 
desirable  to  condense  for  use 
in  a  parlor. 

The  costume  is  arranged  to 
go  over  the  full  dress  of  a 
gentleman  or  lady.  The  chief 
robe  is  made  as  scant  as  con- 
venient to  the  wearer,  and 
((insists  of  a  straight  gown 
reaching  from  the  throat  to 
the  feet,  with  long  flowing 
sleeves.  It  may  be  made  of 
any  material,  to  suit  the  taste 
and  fancy  of  the  owner,  of 
black  trimmed  with  various 
colors,  and  ornamented  with 
pictures,  fringe,  bells,  or 
any  other  decorations.  The 
cheapest  and  most  effective 
head-dress  can  be  made  of  a 
bright  colored  paper  lamp 
shade  or  a  wire  cake  cover 
lined  with  paper;  from  this 
hangs  a  long  queue  of  braided 
yarn,  list,  or  hair,  and  a  wire 
mask  serves  to  conceal  the 
face.  These  masks  can  be 
bought  at  any  fai icy  -goods 
store,  can  be  made  of  cloth  or 

paper,  or,  if  no  mask  is  worn,  the  face,  can  be  very  much  dis- 
guised with  chalk  and  rouge,  and  by  altering  the  curve  of  the 
eyelids. 

The  lanterns  and  candles  can  be  purchased  in  large  quanti- 
ties at  some,  wholesale  store  at  a  very  reasonable  rate,  and  can  be 
disposed  of  at  auction  at  the  close  of  the  performance,  as  they 
are  always  in  demand  for  decorative  purposes.  The  smaller  ones 
are  best  adapted  for  this  purpose;  but  when  not  too  costly, 
those  which  are  adorned  with  flowers  are  desirable. 

If  spectators  are  admitted  without  the 
Chinese   dress,  they  must  be  seated 
around  the  sides  of  the  room  be- 
fore the  entrance  of  the  others. 

The    Grand     March     is 
formed    outside   in    the 
entry,  unless  an  aute- 


'  WE'RE    COMING    TOO." 


room  can  be  obtained,  and  as  the  leader  of  it  enters  the  hall  the 
lights  are  darkened  in  order  to  render  the  gleam  of  the  lanterns 
more  brilliant.  It  is  led  by  a  very  tall  person,  who  nods  his  head 
often  and  bows  low  to  the  assembly,  in  which  act  of  homage  he 
is  imitated  by  each  couple  as  they  enter  the  room.  They  all 
carry  lanterns,  some  on  high  staffs,  some  hanging  from  umbrel- 
las from  which  the  cloth  has  been  removed,  and  some  bear  huge 
drums  made  of  two  Chinese  umbrellas  tied  together,  with  the 
space  between  tilled  with  cambric  or  oiled  paper. 

The  performers  all  follow  their  leader,  marching  first  by  pairs, 
mid  saluting  as  they  turn  each  corner  by  bow  ing  low  once  and 
then  nodding  their  heads  rapidly  three  times.  Having  gone 
twice  around,  they  countermarch,  then  come  up  the  centre  by 
fours,  then  move  in  single  tile  twice  around  the  room,  forming  iii 
two  lines,  facing  each  other,  twelve  feet  apart.  They  then  salute 
each  other  in  line  twice,  and  the  right  line  countermarches  to 
the  left  and  the  left  line  to  the  right,  when  they  join  and  march 
up  the  hall  in  line,  or  in  as  many  lines  as  the  width  of  the  hall 
will  allow.  They  are  then  divided  into  sections  of  six,  and  keep 
time  to  the  music  of  a  military  march,  each  one  waving  his  lan- 
tern or  staff"  above  his  head. 

After  forming  again  in  line  they  wind  around  in  serpentine 
curves.  They  then  rest,  standing  in  a  circle,  or  seated  on  the 
floor  on  rugs  or  cushions,  while  tea  is  served  to  them  in  small 
cups.  They  may  sell  these  cups  of  tea  to  the  spectators,  if  the 
entertainment  is  designed  as  a  means  of  aiding  any  cause,  and  in 
this  case  a  pagoda  may  be  erected  in  one  corner  for  the  sale  of 
candy,  and  another  opposite  for  the  exhibition  of  curiosities. 

The  pagodas  can  be  copied  from  any  picture,  and  made  brill- 
iant with  lanterns  and  transparencies.  They  are  concealed 
from  view,  until  wanted,  by  curtains,  which  are  drawn  aside  at  a 
signal  given  by  the  leader,  who  strikes  three  blows  on  a  gong 
which  is  hanging  on  the  wall  in  a  convenient  place.  The  at- 
tendants who  have  been  chosen  to  serve  in  the  pagodas  then  take 
their  places,  and  a  general  promenade  is  commenced,  so  that 
those  who  have  occupied  the  seats  can  walk  around,  enjoy  the 
music,  and  patronize  the  pagodas  if  disposed. 

At  the  next  signal  the  seats  are  resumed,  and  a  little  dance 
or  march  is  executed  by  eight  of  the  performers,  who  may  go 
through  the  common  right-and-left  figure  which  is  used  as  tlie 
last  change  in  the  Lancers.  Alter  this  is  over,  the  gong  again 
calls  the  masqueraders  to  place.  The  leader  withdraws  a  cur- 
tain which  has  hung  at  the.  back  of  the  room,  and  the  lights, 
which  had  been  turned  up  at  the  conclusion  of  the  march,  are 
again  darkened.  Each  one  of  the  Chinamen  then  advances  in 
and  hangs  up  a  small  lantern  on  a  nail  which  has  been  driven 
into  a  board  concealed  by  the  curtain.  This  board  is  construct- 
ed so  that  a  huge  bush  of  bright  flowers  is  made  by  the  lanterns 
when  they  are  hung  up. 

Later  on  a  supper  is  served  in  another  hall,  or  if  this  is  not 
convenient,  the  guests  are  served  at  small  tables 
or  tea-poys  which   are  brought   in    by    the 
Chinese,  who  wait  upon  the  guests,  and 
afterward  partake  of  refreshments 
themselves.     Songs  and  games 
may  conclude  the  entertain- 
ment, or   social    dances 
may  follow'. 


p! 


SlWS^F 


I. "";»,„%  "::£->:*' ™."  """•.,  "7"    '-'  '""•' 


STORMING   THE   FORT. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANl<  ILLUSTRATED,, „ WEEKLY. 


rrr       -i-fmrrp 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  169. 


PCBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  January  23,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HABPKB  A  BHUTHKBS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


A    CATASTROPHE. 


AN  OPEN-AIR  PRISON  ;  ' 

OR,  CAPTAIX  UARCOURT'S  ADVENTURE  IX  THE  TERAI. 
BY  DAVID  KER. 

'M  off  to  the  Terai  for  a  month." 

"Then  you're  a  very  lucky  fellow,  that's  all." 
In  one  way  certainly  Captain  James  Harcourt,  of  the 
— th  Native  Bengal  Infantry,  might  well  he  consider- 
ed lucky.     He  was  the  keenest  hunter  in  his  regiment, 
and  the  district  where  he  was  going  to  spend  his  month's 

leave  of  absence  was  one 
which  is  a  kind  of  "happy 
hunting  ground"  in  the 
eyes  of  every  East  Indian 
sportsman,  native  or  Euro- 
pean. 

The  Terai,  whither  our 
gallant  Captain  was  bound, 
is  really  nothing  more  than 
one  of  the  ledges  or  steps 
of  the  great  mountain  stair 
of  the  Himalaya,  the  high- 
est range  in  the  world. 
But  this  one  ledge  is  broad 
enough  to  cover  the  space 
of  an  entire  province,  and 
to  contain  forests  in  which 
a  man  might  wander  for 
days  without  finding  his 
way  out.  These  forests 
swarm  with  game  of  every 
kind,  and  are  specially  fa- 
mous for  producing  the  fin- 
est breed  of  tigers  in  all 
India;  and  many  a  native 
prince  has  paid  thousands 
of  silver  rupees  (half-dol- 
lars) to  enrich  his  menage- 
rie with  a  good  specimen  of 
the  "Terai  wallah"  (man of 
the  Terai),  as  these  striped 
gentlemen  are  nicknamed 
by  the  Hindoos. 

Travelling  by  railway  as 
far  as  the  railway  could 
take  him,  and  then  going 
up  the  mountain  paths  in 
a  bamboo  litter  which  was 
carried  at  a  swinging  trot 
by  four  sturdy  natives,  Cap- 


17S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


tain  Harcourt  lost  no  time  in  reaching  the  border  of  the 
Terai.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  add  to  his  collection 
of  hunting1  trophies  the  skin  of  at  least  one  Terai  wallah, 
in  addition  to  the  dozens  of  tigers  which  he  had  killed 
elsewhere;  and  he  had  scarcely  entered  the  famous  forest 
when  he  learned  to  his  no  small  satisfaction  that  he  had 
come  just  in  time  for  some  good  sport  in  this  very  line. 

A  monstrous  tiger  had  recently  appeared  in  the  Terai, 
and  was  making  terrible  havoc  among  the  native  villages. 
If  half  the  stories  told  of  it  were  true,  it  must  have  trav- 
elled by  telegraph,  or  at  least  have  gone  quicker  than  any 
tiger  ever  went  before;  for  it  was  declared  by  the  peasants 
to  have  done  mischief  on  the  same  night  in  two  villages 
fully  fifty  miles  apart.  The  accounts  given  of  its  appear- 
ance and  habits  were  so  utterly  contradictory  as  to  drive 
poor  Captain  Harcourt  almost  out  of  his  senses;  but  all 
agreed  in  representing  this  mysterious  beast  as  the  largest, 
strongest,  and  most  ferocious  tiger  ever  seen  in  that  part 
of  India. 

What  a  chance  for  the  sporting  Captain ! 

The  moment  they  heard  that  an  English  "hurra  sahib" 
(great  maslen  had  come  among  them,  having  already 
killed  plenty  of  tigers,  and  meaning  to  kill  as  many  more 
as  he  could,  the  inhabitants  of  all  the  neighboring  villages 
came  trooping  ill  a  body  to  ('aptain  Harconrt's  ramp  to 
offer  him  their  services  in  tracking  down  the  tiger,  and  to 
beg  him  to  make  an  end  of  it  as  soon  as  possible. 

This  was  just  what  our  hero  would  have  been  very  glad 
to  do;  but  however  anxious  the  Captain  might  be  to  see 
the  tiger,  the  tiger  did  not  seem  at  all  eager  to  see  the  Cap- 
tain. One  might  almost  have  thought  that  some  one  had 
warned  the  beast  of  his  coming,  and  that  it  was  keeping 
out  of  his  way  on  purpose. 

One  day  passed — two  days — three  days.  The  English- 
man and  his  Hindoo  guides  scoured  the  forest  in  every  di- 
rection, but  not  a  sign  of  the  beast  could  they  see.  and 
Captain  Harcourt,  enraged  by  his  disappointment,  was  al- 
most as  savage  as  the  tiger  itself. 

But  on  the  morning1  of  the  fourth  day  things  took  a  bet- 
ter turn.  An  old  hunter  came  into  the  camp  who  had  act- 
ually seen  the  tiger  but  a  few  hours  before,  and  was  able  not 
only  to  give  a  pretty  exact  account  of  how  it  looked,  but 
even  to  tell  whereabouts  it  was  likely  to  be  met  with.  Be- 
fore the  man  had  got  half-way  through  his  story  Captain 
Harcourt.  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  flinging  his  cap  right 
up  into  a  big  tree  overhead,  danced  frantically  round  and 
round  the  tent,  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice  a  verse  from 
one  of  his  favorite  songs: 

"A  pork   barrel's  nice  when  you're  hungry  ;it  si>;i, 
But  a   wcll-limik'il  "iim-liMiTc'l's  nicer  to  //«•  : 
A  bright  yellow  primrose  looks  sweet,  it   you  will 
But  a  bright  yellow   tincr  looks   prettier  still." 

The  Captain  and  his  new  ally  lost  not  a  moment  in 
starting  otf  into  the  forest,  toward  the  spot  where  the  tiger 
had  been  last  seen;  but  although  they  saw  plenty  of  the 
great  round  paw-marks  which  it  had  left,  no  tiger  was  to 
be  found.  At  last  even  these  traces  disappeared,  and 
Harcourt,  furious  at  the  thought  of  losing  this  splendid 
chance,  sent  his  attendant  to  scour  the  forest  on  the  left, 
while  he  himself  struck  off  to  the  right. 

The  Captain  had  not  gone  far  before  he  came  upon  a 
very  curious  structure  of  bamboos  laid  close  togeihcr. 
which  might  have  been  taken  for  a  hut,  except  that  it  had 
no  chimney,  and  apparently  no  door  either.  But  on  the 
farther  side  he  at  length  discovered  a  square  opening 
quite,  big  enough  for  him  to  creep  through,  above  which, 
as  if  ready  to  fall  and  close  the  opening,  hung  a  strong 
heavy  plank,  kept  in  its  place  by  a  cord  of  twisted  bark. 
The  moment  the  Captain  saw  this  he  knew  that  the  seem- 
ing hut  was  really  a  tiger  trap. 

Then  he  was  suddenly  struck  with  the  idea  of  hiding 
himself  close  by,  waiting  until  the  tiger  came  to  sniff 
around  the  bait,  and  then  shooting  it.  But  before  doing 


so  he  thought  it  just  as  well  to  creep  in,  and  make  sure 
that  there  was  any  bait  for  the  tiger  to  sniff  at,  for  the 
inside  of  the  trap  was  so  dark  that  he  could  see  nothing 
from  without.  In  he  crawled,  and  had  just  made  out  a 
fine  quarter  of  buffalo  beef  tied  to  a  stake,  when  a  loud 
snap  was  heard,  and  down  came  the  hanging  plank,  like 
a  window-sash,  right  over  the  entrance.  The  Captain's 
head  had  touched  the  cord  that  worked  it,  and  he  had 
trapped  himself  instead  of  the  tiger. 

Just  at  the  first  moment  Captain  Hai-court  was  more 
inclined  to  laugh  than  to  be  disturbed;  but  he  soon  saw 
that  it  was  110  laughing  matter.  The  plank  fitted  so  ex- 
act ly  into  the  opening  that  he  tried  in  vain  to  lift  it,  and 
its  fall  had  left  him  so  completely  in  the  dark  that  ho 
could  hardly  see  his  own  hand.  True,  he  was  quite  safe 
from  the  tiger,  for  the  bamboo  poles  were  so  close  toget  her 
that  neither  tooth  nor  claw  could  find  any  hold  upon 
them.  But  if  the  tiger  could  not  get  in,  just  as  little 
could  the  Captain  get  out. 

There  he  was  imprisoned.  Fret  against  it  as  he  would, 
he  had  fallen  into  a  trap  laid  for  a  ferocious  wild  beast, 
and  how  long  he  might  remain  there  was  a  question  that 
could  not  lie  answered.  True,  he  had  plenty  of  food,  but 
it  was  not  of  a  kind  that  suited  his  taste,  and  no  one  had 
thought  of  providing  water  or  anything'  else  that  could  be 
drunk. 

One  chance,  however,  still  remained.  The  bamboos 
were  dry  and  sapless,  and  might  not  be  proof  against 
the  edge  of  the  broad-bladed  hunting-knife  at  his  side. 
Anyhow,  the  chance  was  worth  trying,  so  to  work  he 
went. 

He  had  been  cutting  away  for  some  time,  and  had  made, 
with  considerable  difficulty,  a  hole  just  wide  enough  to 
pass  his  arm  through,  when  there  was  a  rustling  and  a 
crackling  in  the  thicket,  and  out  into  the  clearing  broke  a 
monstrous  tiger,  in  which  by  the  pale  yellow  skin  and 
cross-striped  face  he  recognized  the  famous  "man-eater"  . 
described  by  the  Hindoo,  which  he  had  hunted  so  long  in 


All  the  Captain's  prudence  was  gone  in  a  moment.  In- 
stead of  waiting  until  the  tiger  came  right  up  to  the  trap, 
as  it  was  sure  to  do  on  scenting  prey,  he  thrust  his  rifle 
through  the  cleft  and  let  fly.  As  a  matter  of  course  he 
missed  the  head,  and  only  hit  the  fore-shoulder. 

The  wounded  monster  gave  a  roar  that  shook  the  air, 
and  darted  toward  the  cage  like  an  arrow  ;  and  the  terrible 
teeth  and  claws  began  to  enlarge  the  hole  cut  by  the  Cap- 
tain with  a  speed  that  made  his  blood  rim  cold. 

No  time  to  reload  now.      Hareourt  flung  down  his  use- 
le-s  rille.  and  seizing  his  hunting-knife,  slashed  and  stab- 
bed like  a  madman  at  the  grinning  muzzle  and  great  yel- 
low paws.     But  although  every  gash  drew  blood  freely,  ' 
the  monster  continued  to  crunch  and  tear  the  bamboos 
until  there  was  room  for  its  head  to  pass  through;  then 
followed  one  fore-paw,  and  then  the  other;  and  Harcourt,  . 
giving  up  all  hope  of  escape,  set  his  teeth  savagely,  and; 
drew  himself  together  for  a  struggle  to  the  death. 

But  just  then  the  crack  of  a  rifle  echoed  from  the, 
thicket,  and  the  tiger,  in  the  very  act  of  springing1,  reared 
up  and  fell  back  dead.  In  another  moment  a  broad,  sun- 
burned visage  peered  through  the  gap,  and  a  hearty  voice, 
which  Harcourt  recognized  as  that  of  an  old  dragoon  of- 
ficer who  was  one  of  his  special  friends,  shouted: 

"  Hallo,  Jim!  have  the  tigers  been  shutting  yon  up  in 
a  menagerie,  by  way  of  a  change?    Well,  you've  got  your' 
cage  and  your  food;  why  don't  you  begin  to  sing  >." 

"  I'd  have  begun  to  sing  out  long  ago,''  answered  Har-  • 
court,  "if  I'd  known  that  anybody  was  within  hearing; 
but  if  you  hadn't  come  up  when  you  did.  old  boy,  my 
singing  would  have  been  stopped  once  for  all." 

From  that  time  forth,  however,  it  was  noticed  that  ( 'ap- 
tain Harcourt  always  made  haste  to  change  the  subject 
when  any  one  began  to  speak  of  tiger-traps. 


JANT.YUY  i;:;,  isss. 


HAUPEirS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


179 


JOLLY  OLD  \YINTHi:. 
BY  E.  M.  TI;  M;I  AH: 

A  sTi'uniKi:.  kindlier,  jollier  wiuhi 

Than  Winter  seldom  is  seen; 
His  hair,  hi-  beard,  lii"  mantle  are  white. 

Hi-  muscles  like   iron,  I   ween. 

Healthy  and  strung  from   the  crown  of  his  head 

TII    the    sole    of    his    fool     i-    he; 

A    tire   lie   scorns  when   he   goes   lo   lieil 
In   his  chamber  lofty  and   free. 

Fo,-  -.i   palace  is  his  at  the  far  North  Pole, 

(  M    ice  he  built    it.  and  snow, 
And  a  hunting  lod-jc  on  eaeh  mountain   top. 

Where   keenly   the   IYo-1 -wind-  lilow. 

His  -hrrl-   lie   makes  of  the  snow-drifts   while. 

At   chinks  and  crannies  he  sneer-. 
lie   pricks   up   hi-  ear-  and   laughs  with  delight 

When   the  merry  sleiirli  bell   he  hears. 

But  no  pleasure  he  has  in   the  songbird      QOtO; 

No  beauty  in  (lower-  he  sees; 
III-   hides  them  away   'neath   his    while    tm-  coal. 

And  strip-  otf  the  leaves  from  the  trei 

The  lakes  and   the   rivers  he   fetters  tight. 

To  binder  their  llowinir  tide; 
The  rin.;;  of   the  skali--   is  his  great    delight 

As  over  the  ice  they  glide. 

A   mighty  des]iot    for  good   as  for  ill. 
A    king,  though   his  reiLrn   is  short. 
The  sunshine  would   -ol'icn   his  iron  will. 

Mill    dare-  not    come   to   his  courl. 

Yet    kindly  he   welcomes   tin-   uii'N  and   boys. 

\\  ho  gay  to  his  presence  go: 
And   lilillie  and   brave  are   winter  jo\  -. 

Ill   the   wake   lit    the   ice   and   snow. 


LA  SI  IK  D  To  TIIK   VYIIKKI,   IN    A  SToIlM. 

BY  AN  HI. I)  SAll.u::. 

I  WAS  aboard  a  little  schooner  belonging  to  Weymouth. 
In  the  English  Channel  it  came  on  to  blow,  and  the 
skipper,  thinking  shelter  necessary  for  our  safety,  brought 
up  near  Dungeness.  About  noon  tin-  wind  inodei-ated. 
and  he  said  lie-  wanted  some  provisions,  and  would  go 
ashore  to  get  'cm.  He  left  me  and  a  hoy  aboard,  and 
went  away  with  the  other  hand. 

About  an  hour  after  he  was  gone  it  ramp  on  to  blow 
ay;un.  By  night-fall  it  was  as  dark  as  a  pocket,  the  wind 
groaning-  like  thunder,  and  the  heads  of  the  seas  breaking 
off  afore  they  touched  the  vessel,  and  smothering  me  and 
the  boy  as  we  stood  looking  and  waiting  and  wondering 
on  what  was  to  happen.  We  had  both  anchors  over,  and 
she  had  as  much  chain  as  we  had  to  give  her,  and  the 
lead  line  was  alongside  to  let  us  know  if  she  drifted. 
Presently  I  had  occasion  to  go  below  for  a  minute;  but 
whilst  I  was  groping  for  a  light.  I  hears  the  boy  singing 
out  as  if  he  was  being  murdered,  and  running  on  deck. 
found  that  both  cables  had  parted,  and  that  we  were 
adrift. 

Mates,  ye  can  guess  what  that  situation  would  be  like. 
If  there  was  any  comfort  to  be  got  out  of  such  a  mess,  it 
lay  in  the  knowledge  that  we  weren't  blowing  ashore,  but 
right  away  out  to  sea.  I  called  to  the  boy.  and  between 
us  we  made  shift  to  close  reef  the  gaff-foresail,  and  to  show 
enough  of  it  to  enable  us  to  lay  to.  All  I  could  do  was 
first  to  lash  the  helm,  and  then  lash  the  boy,  and  then 
lash  myself.  The  storm  of  wind  lay  as  solid  and  cold 


upon  us  as  an  iceberg.  Roll !  ye  should  have  seen  her. 
Had  ye  asked  me,  afore  we  got  into  that  weather,  if  the 
schooner  would  live  in  such  seas  as  them,  I'd  ha'  turned 
from  you  in  contempt  of  the  silliness  of  such  a  question. 
Yet  she  did  live — ay,  and  she  did  as  well  as  if  she'd  been 
full  of  air  instead  of  coal. 

I  l<i-  name  was  '/'//<•  Mi triii.  and  when  I  talk  of  her  I  feel 
as  if  I  ought  to  pull  oil'  my  cap.  Well,  the  night  passed, 
and  when  the  morning  light  came  the  hoy  was  all  but 
dead.  His  hair  was  thick  with  icicles,  and  he  lay  on  iiis 
side  as  still'  and  helpless  as  a  capstan  bar. 

At  last      and   it  might  ha' been  an  hour  after  daybreak 

I  sighted  a  lug  coming  our  way.  I  made  shift  to  bend 
on  the  ensign,  jack  down,  and  .send  it  aloft.  The  tug 
seeing  this,  drove  alongside  and  hailed  me,  and  I  told 
'em  the  story  with  what  voice  the  cold  had  left  in  me-. 
(  >n  this  they  got  a  bit  of  a  life-boat  over,  and  took  us 
aboard. 

Being  a  hearty  man,  I  pulled  through  all  right;  but, 
t  ii<  ni^h  the  boy  lived,  he  lost  his  right  foot  and  the  use  of 
In-  left  hand,  was  in  the  hospital  three  months,  and  re- 
mains to  this  hour  as  sad  a  human  object  as  ever  ye  saw. 
And  now.  sir,  the  mo-t  part  of  this  here  is  that  it  took 
place  on  Ni  \\  N  ear  -  Day.  As  I  live  to  discourse  upon  it, 
it  was  the  worst  New- Year's  I  >a  y  I  ever  passed,  though 
one  through  others  that  came  pretty  near  to  it  in 
suffering. 


c  \I;L  M  \I:IA  VON  \YKHKH. 

IIY  l.i  <  \   i     i.ll.UE. 

DriMNG  the  year  ITS4  a  (ierman  nobleman  named 
Yon  Weber  arrived  in  Yienna  with  his  little  chil- 
dren, whose  musical  abilities  were  so  marked  that  the 
father  determined  to  give  them  every  advantage  within 
in-  power.  Hut  Ha ron  von  Weber  was  poor  and  reckless. 
He  hail  always  been  a  spendthrift,  and  was  noted  for  his 
eccentric  habits  and  ideas.  Heing  the  uncle  of  Mozart, 
he  imagined  that  in  Yienna  he  might  force  his  children 
into  a  place  ;is  prominent  as  that  lilled  by  the  famous 
young  compose]1.  But  this  was  not  to  be  the  case.  His 
sons  were  placed  under  the  care  of  "Papa  Haydn,"  but 
did  not  distinguish  themselves:  and  meanwhile  the  pen- 
mli---.  'ji.i id  looking  father,  a  widower  of  lifty,  fell  in  love 
with  the  very  young  daughter  of  his  landlord,  a  beauti- 
ful girl  of  sixteen,  who  seems  to  have  consented  readily 
li  i  marry  him. 

The  newly  wedded  pair  went  almost  at  once  to  the 
town  of  Knlin,  where  the  Herr  Baron  was  oll'ercd  the 
place  of  .s/itil/ iinis/l.-i/iii,  or  town  musician.  This  was 
rather  a  downward  step,  but  it  at,  least  gave  his  little  wife 
food  and  shelter.  Old  Weber  seemed  to  have  no  idea  that 
she  needed  more  in  her  life  than  its  actual  necessaries. 
He  treated  her  harshly,  if  not  with  absolute  cruelty,  and 
in  1798,  when  her  one  child,  Carl  Maria  von  Weber,  was 
eleven  years  of  age,  the  poor  little  mother  faded  out  of 
life. 

Carl  was  born  at  Eutin  in  1786.  He  was  always  deli- 
cate, sensitive,  and  overstudious,  and  from  his  birth  his 
rough  -  tempered  father  determined  to  make  a  musical 
prodigy  of  him.  What  hours  of  suffering  he  must  have 
endured  as  a  mere  baby,  forced  to  sit  at  the  piano,  his  lit- 
tle fingers  strained  upon  the  keys,  while  his  father,  with 
a  baton  that  could  any  moment  become  a  rod,  stood  over 
him ! 

As  a  mere  child  Weber  began  to  compose,  and  his  fa- 
ther carried  him  about  from  place  to  place,  sometimes 
staying  long  enough  to  have  one  master  really  influence 
the  boy,  but  rarely  giving  him  time  to  think  out,  carefully 
the  music  that  he  was  urged  on  to  compose.  Much  of  his 
time  was  passed  behind  the  scenes  of  provincial  theatres, 
and  although  the  influence  of  this  sort  of  life  on  his  moral 
character  could  not  have  been  good,  it  helped  him  when 


180 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


lie  came  to  write  for  the  stage.  He  learned  by  constant 
observation  everything  connected  with  the  workings  of 
the  opera. 

After  a  youth  spent  in  many  wanderings,  and  with 
hardships  and  disappointments  of  various  kinds,  young 
Weber,  at  twenty-one,  was  appointed  private  secretary  to 
the  brother  of  the  King  of  Wiirtemberg,  and  in  this  posi- 


CAEL    MARIA   VON    WEBER. 

tion  he  might  have  been  successful  but  for  a  curious  quar- 
rel with  the  King.  This  monarch  was  a  man  of  low  tastes, 
coarse  manners,  and  extremely  bad  temper.  Poor  Weber 
was  often  his  victim,  for  in  his  character  of  the  Duke's 
secretary  he  had  to  beg  from  the  King  whenever  his 
Majesty's  very  reckless  brother  needed  money  or  any  oth- 
er royal  favor.  On  such  occasions  the  King  vented  all 
his  wrath  on  Weber,  and  treated  him  at  times  with  insult 
and  contempt.  One  day,  after  an  unusually  wild  scene 
with  the  King,  Weber  left  the  royal  apartments,  feeling 
as  if  he  could  no  longer  endure  such  an  existence.  He 
stumbled  against  an  untidy-looking  old  woman,  who  in- 
quired where  she  could  find  the  royal  washer-woman. 

Weber  was  still  boiling  over  with  the  rage  he  had  been 
compelled  to  conceal  in  the  King's  presence,  and  on  a 
mad  impulse  he  pointed  to  the  door  of  the  Kingls  cabinet, 
saying,  "There!''  In  walked  the  unsuspicious  old  wo- 
man, who,  without  recognizing  the  King,  informed  his 
Majesty  that  the  young  gentleman  outside  had  told  her 
she  would  find  the  washer-woman  there.  The  King,  who 
was  well  known  to  hate  old  women,  sprang  up,  poured 
forth  a  volley  upon  the  terrified  intruder,  and  ordered 
Weber  to  be  thrown  into  prison  at  once.  Later  he  was 
released  ;  but  the  incident  was  never  forgotten  by  the 
King,  who,  when  an  opportunity  came,  revenged  himself. 

Weber's  father  had  become  involved  in  business  diffi- 
culties, and  Carl  generously  tried  to  shield  the  old  man 
from  disgrace.  But  while  Carl's  opera  of  St.  Sylvana 
was  in  rehearsal,  and  likely  to  make  a  great  success,  the 
King  had  both  father  and  son  arrested.  A  mock  trial  was 


arranged,  and  the  King  himself  presided  over  it,  with  his 
usual  fury  of  temper  and  expression.  Young  Weber  re- 
mained calm  and  dignified,  even  when  he  listened  to  the 
sentence  of  banishment  pronounced  upon  his  father  and 
himself,  and  left  Wiirtemberg  completely  resolved  to  de- 
vote all  his  heart  and  mind  to  the  pursuit  of  music. 

A  new  era  in  his  life  followed.  He  wrote  with  clearer 
mind  and  greater  success ;  and  as  soon  as  he  freed  himself 
from  certain  evil  influences  of  his  life,  the  very  best  part 
of  his  nature  developed.  It  is  comforting  to  think  how 
happy  Weber  was  in  his  marriage.  His  wife  was  a  young 
artist,  of  exquisite  temperament  and  disposition,  whom  he 
loved  devotedly,  and  who  made  his  home-life  as  perfect 
as  it  could  be,  when  we  remember  how  many  cares  be 
had,  and  that  for  years  he  had  suffered  with  a  fatal  dis- 
ease. It  was  for  his  wife,  his  dear  Lina,  that  he  com- 
posed the  "Invitation  to  the  Waltz,"  ever  since  so  famous 
as  a  piano-forte  piece,  and  it  was  under  much  of  her  inspi- 
ration that  he  wrote  the  opera  of  Der  Freischutz. 

This  great  work  was  performed  for  the  first  time  in 
Berlin  in  1821,  and  Weber  and  his  wife  spent  some  time 
in  that  city  preparing  for  its  production.  In  those  days, 
even  more  than  at  present,  musicians  suffered  greatly 
from  the  efforts  of  their  rivals  to  lower  them  and  their 
work  in  public  estimation,  and  Weber  was  not  spared 
such  annoyances.  But  he  felt  an  enthusiasm  in  his  art 
which  entirely  mastered  this  petty  side  of  life;  and  Sir 
Julius  Benedict,  then  his  pupil,  tells  us  how  Weber  spent 
the  very  day  preceding  the  production  of  the  opera.  He 
passed  some  time  at  the  piano,  going  over  a  new  work 
upon  which  he  was  engaged,  and  gave  Sir  Julius  and 
Lina  the  ideal  story  he  had  in  it.  The  music  was  the  since 
famous  concert  piece  in  F  minor,  and  it  seemed  that  never 
had  the  master  played  better  or  been  in  a  calmer  and  loft- 
ier mood.  He  then  took  a  light  dinner,  and  had  a  little 
rest;  and  so,  with  his  wife  and  favorite  pupil,  went  to  the 
opera-house.  A  great  audience  was  assembled,  and  among 
them  a  little  bright-eyed  boy,  who  sat  entranced,  an  eager 
listener,  at  his  father's  side.  The  boy  was  destined  later 
to  be  famous  as  Felix  Mendelssolm-Bartholdy.  The  suc- 
cess was  complete.  The  composer  wras  received  like  a  hero 
of  victory,  and  slight  and  awkward  as  he  was,  he  stood 
among  his  friends  great  for  that  hour  at  least.  The  roy- 
alty of  genius  was  about  him,  and  every  one  paid  homage 
to  it. 

Unhappily  Weber  was  not  always  destined  to  such  tri- 
umphs. Five  years  passed  away,  and  we  find  him  in 
London,  where  he  was  already  famous  as  the  composer  of 
several  operas — Der  Freixcltiitz,  Euryanthe,  and  Obrrnii. 
But  though  the  latter  proved  a  great  success,  the  public 
did  not  receive  Weber  as  his  friends  felt  that  he  deserved 
to  be  received.  Moscheles,  the  composer  and  musician, 
the  loyal,  earnest  friend  of  art  and  its  disciples,  with  Sir 
George  Smart  and  several  others,  did  all  that  they  could 
to  make  Weber  a  successful,  happy  visitor  in  the  English 
capital;  but  Weber  was  fast  dying,  and  every  trouble  in 
his  public  life  seemed  to  reduce  his  failing  strength. 

A  dear  old  friend  has  told  me  of  her  last  visit  from  We- 
ber— how  he  toiled  upstairs  to  her  bright  drawing-room, 
and  sinking  into  a  chair,  declared  himself  too  ill  to  have 
ventured  out.  But  even  at  the  very  last  lie  continued  pa- 
tient and  gentle.  On  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  June,  1S26, 
his  friends  saw  him  for  the  last  time.  As  usual,  he  retired 
alone,  and  bolted  his  door.  In  the  morning  the  servant 
who  went  to  call  him  got  no  response.  He  hastened  to 
Sir  George  Smart,  who,  with  Moscheles,  burst  into  his 
room.  They  found  him  lying  dead,  as  in  a  peaceful  sleep, 
his  head  resting  011  his  arm,  his  expression  one  of  pure 
and  gentle  repose.* 


*  A  dear  friend  of  Weber's  told  me  that  it  was  quite  untrue  that  the 
so-called  "  Weber's  last  Waltz"  was  found  under  his  pillow.  It  was 
not  even  written  by  him,  but  by  one  of  his  pupils. 


JANUARY  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


181 


HUNTING  THE  RHINOCEROS. 

P.Y   .JIMMY    ia;o\VX. 

"11  TE  ought  always  to  be  useful,  and  do  good  to  every - 
\  \  body.  I  used  to  think  that  we  ought  always  to  im- 
prove our  minds,  and  I  think  so  some  noxv.  though  I  have 
got  into  dreadful  ditliciilties  all  through  improving-  my 
mind.  But  I  am  not  going  to  be  discouraged.  I  tried  to 

be    useful   tl tber   day,  and    do   good   lo  the   heathen  in 

di-tant  lands,  and  yon  xvouldn'l  believe  \\liat  trouble  ii 
made.  There  are  some  people  xvho  xvonld  never  do  good 
aii-ain  if  ibex  had  L'ot  into  tin-  trouble  that  I  got  into;  hut 
the  proverb  says  that  if  at  first  you  don't  succeed,  cry,  cry 
au'aiu;  and  there  was  lots  of  crying,  I  can  tell  \  oil,  over 
our  rhinoceros,  that  we  thought  was  going  to  do  so  much 
good. 

It  all  happened  because  Aunt  Eliza  was  -tax  in-  al  our 
lion se.  She  had  a  Sunday  school  one  afternoon,  and  Tom 
Mc<  !  innis  and  1  \\  ei-e  the  scholars,  and  she  told  us  aboul 
a  box-  that  got  up  a  panorama  about  tin-  /';'/i//-/w'x  Prog- 
/VN.S-  all  by  himself,  and  lei  people  see  it  for  ten  cents 
apiece,  and  made  ten  dollars,  and  sent  it  to  the  mission- 
anil  ibex  look  it  and  educated  mornahundred  little 

heathens  with  it,  and  how  nice  it  \\ould  be  if  you  dear 
bovs  would  go  and  do  likewise  and  noxv  we'll  sing  "  1  lold 
tin'-  Fort." 

Well.  Tom  and  I  thought  about  it.  and  ue  said  \\  e'd 
get  up  a  mcnairerie,  and 
we'd  take  turns  playing- an- 
imals, and  xve'd  let  folks  see 
it  for  len  cents  apiece,  and 
make  a  lot  of  money,  and 
do  ever  so  much  good. 

We  got  a  book  full  of 
piclures  of  animals,  and  \\  e 
made  skins  out  of  cloth  to 
go  all  over  us.  so  that  we'll 
look  just  like  animals  when 
we  had  them  on.  AVe  had 
a  lion's  and  a  tiger's  and 
a  bear's  and  a  rhinoceros's 
skin,  besides  a  whole  lot  of 
others.  As  fast  as  we  !'"t 
the  skins  made,  we  liun^- 
them  up  in  a  corner  of  the 
barn  where  nobody  xvould 
see  them.  The  way  we  made 
them  was  to  show  the  pic- 
tures to  mother  and  to  Aunt 
Eliza,  and  they  did  the  cut- 
ting out  and  the  sewing, 
and  Sue  she  painted  the 
stripes  on  the  tiger,  and  the 
fancy  touches  on  the  other 
animals. 

Our  rhinoceros  was  the 
best  animal  we  had.  The 
rhinoceros  is  a  lovely  ani- 
mal when  he's  alive.  He  is 
almost  as  big  as  an  elephant, 
and  he  has  a  skin  that  is  so 

thick  that  you  can't  shoot  a  bullet  through  it  unless  you 
hit  it  in  a  place  that  is  a  little  softer  than  the  other  places. 
He  has  a  horn  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  and  he  can  toss  a 
tiger  with  it  till  the  tiger  feels  sick,  and  says  he  won't  play 
any  more.  The  rhinoceros  lives  in  Africa,  and  he  would 
toss  'most  all  the  natives  if  it  wasn't  that  they  fasten  an 
India-rubber  ball  on  the  end  of  his  horn,  so  that  when 
he  tries  to  toss  anybody,  the  horn  doesn't  hurt,  and  after 
a  while  the  rhinoceros  gets  discouraged,  and  says,  "Oh, 
well,  what's  the  good  anyhow  ?"  and  goes  away  into  the 
forest.  At  least  this  is  what  Mr.  Travers  says,  but  I  don't 
believe  it;  for  the  rhinoceros  wouldn't  stand  still  and  let 


the  natives  put  an  India-rubber  ball  on  his  horn,  and  they 
wouldn't  want  to  waste  India-rubber  balls  that  way  when 
they  could  play  lawn  tennis  with  them. 

Last  Saturday  afternoon  \\  e  had  our  first  grand 
consolidated  exhibition  of  the  greatest  menagerie  on 
earth.  We  bad  txvo  roxvs  of  chairs  in  the  back  yard,  and 
all  our  folks  and  all  Tom's  folks  came,  and  \\  e  look  in 
a  dollar  and  sixty  cents  at  the  door,  which  was  the  back 
gale. 

I  was  a  hear,  lirst  of  all,  and  growled  so  natural  that 
everx  body  said  it  was  really  frightful.  Then  it  was  Tom's, 
turn  to  lie  an  animal,  and  he  was  to  he  the  raging  rhino- 
ceros of  (  'cut  ral  Africa.  1  helped  dress  him  in  the  barn, 
and  \\hen  he  was  dressed  he  looked  beautiful. 

The  rhinoceros's  skin  xveiit  all  over  him.  and  was  tied 
together  so  that  he  couldn't  get  out  of  it,  without  help. 
His  horn  was  made  of  \\ood  painted  xvhite,  and  his  eyes 
were  two  ag-ales.  (If  course  he  couldn't  see  through 
them,  hut  tln-x  Looked  natural,  and  as  I  was  to  lead  him. 

he  didn't  need  lo  see. 

1  had  jusl  Lot  him  outside  the  barn,  and  had  begun  to 
say,  "Ladies  and  gentlemen,  this  is  the  raging  rbinoce- 
rOS,"  \\ben  he  gave  the  most  awful  yell  yon  ever  heard, 
and  u'ol  up  on  his  bind  legs,  and  began  to  rush  around  as 
if  he  was  crazy.  He  rushed  against  Aunt  Eli/.a,  and  up- 
set her  all  over  the  Mcllinnis  girls,  and  then  he  banned 
up  ai-ainst  the  water-barrel,  and  upset  that,  and  then  he 


. 

' 


' 

<r\ 

V  V    ^ 

•-  .    ie..f,\ 

. 

£        Mm* 


^p^^JL   A 

^^^&^!:^jj^ 

<  •'/f,;n'<:l\ 

it*       •<-(  ''(IN    '' 


"THEN  HE  FELL  INTO  THE  HOT-BED,  AND  BROKE  ALL  THE  GLASS." 


fell  into  the  hot-bed,  and  broke  all  the  glass.  You  never 
saw  such  an  awful  sight.  The  rhinoceros  kept  yelling 
all  the  time,  only  nobody  could  understand  what  he  said, 
and  pulling  at  his  head  with  bis  fore-paws,  and  jumping 
up  and  down,  and  smashing  everything  in  his  way,  and  I 
went  after  him  just  as  if  I  was  a  Central  African  hunting 
a  rhinoceros. 

I  was  almost  frightened,  and  as  for  the  folks,  they  ran 
into  the  house,  all  except  Aunt  Eliza,  who  had  to  be  car- 
ried in.  I  kept  as  close  behind  the  rhinoceros  as  I  could, 
begging  him  to  be  quiet,  and  tell  me  what  was  the  matter. 
After  a  while  he  lay  down  on  the  ground,  and  I  cut  the 


1S2 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


strings  of  his  skin,  so  that  he  could  get  his  head  out  and 
talk. 

He  said  he  was  'most  dead.  The  wasps  had  built  a  nest 
in  one  of  his  hind-legs  as  it  was  hanging  in  the  barn,  and 
they  had  stung  him  until  they  got  tired.  He  said  he'd 
never  have  anything  more  to  do  with  the  menagerie,  and 
went  home  with  his  mother,  and  my  mother  said  I  must 
give  him  all  the  money,  because  he  had  suffered  sq  much. 

But,  as  I  said,  I  won't  be  discouraged,  and  will  try  to 
do  good,  and  be  useful  to  others  the  next  time  I  see  a  fair 
c  bailee. 

WORK  IN  SHEET  METAL. 

BY  C.  H.  V. 

TO  those  of  our  readers  who  are  fond  of  mechanical 
amusements  we  would  recommend  tin,  or,  more  prop- 
erly, tinned  iron,  as  a  material  that  may  be  used  for  the 
manufacture  of  objects  of  every  description,  from  a  doll's 
cradle  to  a  rotary  steam-engine.  One  advantage  of  it  is 
that  it  will  cost  nothing,  as  in  every  house  there  is  apt  to 
he  more  than  a  sufficient  supply. 

Take  some  empty  fruit  cans;  wash  them  clean,  strip- 
ping oil'  the  paper  labels;  set  them  on  a  hot  stove,  so  as 
to  melt  off  the  bottoms  and  the  remnants  of  the  tops;  and 
then  lay  them  <>n  their  sides  where  they  are  joined.  In 
this  way  there  will  finally  be  obtained  a  nice  fiat  piece. 
five  or  six  inches  wide  and  ten  or  twelve  long. 

With  a  pair  of  shears  this  can  be  cut  into  any  shape. 
A  tinman's  shears  of  small  size  are  the  best;  but  if  these 
can  not  be  had,  a  large  pair  of  old  scissors  that  have 
served  out  their  time  in  cutting  cloth  will  answer, 
though  they  are  likely  to  be  hard  upon  the  hand.  An- 
other tool  that  will  be  needful  for  joining  the  pieces  is 
a  soldering  iron,  as  it  is  called,  but  it  is  made  of  copper. 
To  use  this  successfully  will  require  some  practice,  but 
the  advantage  of  knowing  how  will  richly  repay  the 
trouble  of  learning.  The  iron  is  heated  in  a  fire  until 
it  will  melt  the  solder.  Then  it  is  requisite  to  get  a  lit- 
tle of  the  solder  to  stick  to  the  end  of  the  iron;  this  is 
done  by  brightening  the  point  with  a  file  as  soon  as  the 
iron  is  taken  from  the  fire,  and  then  quickly  pressing  the 
point  upon  the  solder;  when  it  adheres  the  solder  can  be 
taken  up  on  the  point  and  applied  where  it  is  needed. 

The  next  step  is  to  make  the  solder  stick  to  the  mate- 
rial. A  little  powdered  resin  should  be  spread  along 
the  edges  to  be  joined;  then  the  hot  solder  will  adhere  to 
them  nicely.  As  soon  as  the  solder  cools,  which  will  be 
in  a  moment,  the  pieces  will  be  united  very  securely. 
When  a  soldered  joint  is  properly  made  its  strength  is 
surprising  to  a  beginner.  If  it  is  desired  to  fasten  togeth- 
er pieces  of  iron  that  are  not  coated  with  tin,  a  little  muri- 
atic acid  with  some  zinc  dissolved  in  it  will  be  needful; 
it  is  best  to  have  a  small  quantity  of  this  mixture  on  hand 
in  a  phial  to  be  used  whenever  there  is  any  difficulty  in 
making  the  solder  unite  with  the  metal.  Apply  it  with 
a  small  stick  sharpened  somewhat  at  the  end. 

A  tube  is  probably  the  best  thing  to  learn  to  make  at 
the  outset.  Cut  a  strip  of  tin  one  inch  wide,  and  about 
six  inches  long;  get  a  piece  of  iron  rod  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  in  diameter.  The  strip  of  tin  can  be  easily  folded 
around  this,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  light  hammer  it  can 
be  shaped  into'  a  tube,  having  one  edge  neatly  and  closely 
overlapping  the  other.  Only  a  little  practice  is  needed  to 
make  the  whole  round  and  straight.  The  hammer  should 
be  used  lightly  and  carefully,  so  as  not  to  leave  dents 
and  creases  in  the  metal.  When  the  true  shape  has  been 
obtained,  the  rod  should  be  slipped  out,  and  the  seam  nice- 
ly soldered  from  end  to  end.  Such  tubes  can  be  added  to 
one  another  by  inserting  the  end  of  one  into  the  next  and 
soldering,  or  by  lapping  a  short  piece  over  the  two  ends. 
They  will  carry  steam  or  water  without  leaking  a  particle. 
They  answer  finely  also  for  posts  in  any  small  structure, 


as  they  are  very  strong  for  their  weight,  and  will  resist  a 
great  strain  before  they  will  either  bend  or  break.  A 
smaller  tube  can  be  made  with  a  narrower  strip  over  a 
one-eighth-inch  wire.  For  the  larger  sizes  a  round  piece 
of  wood  will  do  as  well  as  the  iron  rod. 

As  boys  are  usually  more  fond  of  machinery  than  of 
motionless  devices,  we  will  show  them  how  to  construct 
a  small  windmill.  Make  first  the  shaft  over  the  quar- 
ter-inch rod,  and 
about  eight  inch- 
es long.  Then 
make  the  arms  of 
one -eighth  inch, 
and  about  six 
inches  long:  six 
of  them  will  be 
a  good  number. 
To  fasten  them  on 
the  shaft,  pass  the 
latter  through  a  FIG.  2. 

block  of  wood  to 

hold  it  during  the  process,  allowing  about  one  inch  to  pro- 
ject above.  Then  place  the  six  arms  in  a  circle  round  the 
shaft  (Fig.  2),  using  some  carpet-tacks  to  keep  them  in 
position  on  the  block  until  they  are  soldered  to  the  shaft. 
A  file  will  be  useful  in  smoothing  off  any  unevenness  that 
may  remain  on  the  work  after  the  soldering.  Next  cut  the 
sails  (Fig.  1),  of  the  usual  shape,  and  solder  them  on  the 
arms,  sloping  so  as  to  catch  the  breeze.  The  movable  part 
•will  then  be  complete.  The  stationary  frame-work  can 
be  made  of  wood;  and  if  our  young  mechanic  has  been 
able  to  follow  our  directions  thus  far,  his  own  ingenuity 
will,  we  are  sure,  guide  him  in  fitting  the  shaft  into  two 
uprights,  and  putting  the  whole  in  successful  operation. 


FIG.  I. 


THE  FAST  FREIGHT. 

BY  ELIOT  McCORMICK. 

WALTER  CARLISLE  had  climbed  into  a  freight-car 
that  was  standing  on  a  side  track  in  the  Wentworth 
depot,  and  concealed  himself  as  well  as  he  could  in  the 
far  corner.  He  was  playing  hide-and-seek,  and  his  com- 
panions were  searching  for  him  outside  the  car -yard 
fence. 

''They  won't  be  likely  to  find  me  here,"  he  said,  glee- 
fully, to  himself,  while  he  listened  to  their  cries. 

Presently  he  heard  them  scaling  the  fence  near  to  the 
car,  but  just  at  that  moment  a  man  came  along  and  push- 
ed to  the  heavy  door. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Walter,  half  aloud.  "Now  they'll 
never  find  me.'' 

With  the  closing  of  the  door,  however,  the  noise  of  their 
cries  was  shut  out,  and  Walter  could  no  longer  tell  how 
near  to  the  car  they  might  be.  In  a  moment  something 
bumped  against  the  far  end  of  the  car  with  a  jolt  that  sent 
it  back  quite  a  distance  on  the  track,  and  would  have 
knocked  Walter  over  if  he  had  not  already  been  sitting. 
Then  the  car  began  to  move  slowly  forward.  They  were 
going  to  shift  it  to  another  track.  Walter  concluded;  but 
as  this  would  throw  the  boys  still  further  off  the  scent,  and 
give  him  besides  a  free  ride,  he  did  not  mind  it. 

So  he  sat  still  while  the  car  bounced  over  the  switch,  and 
felt  somewhat  disappointed  when  it  came  to  a  stop  a  lit- 
tle way  beyond.  That  was  only  for  a  moment,  however. 
Yei-\  soon  it  backed  down,  until  with  another  jolt  it  bump- 
ed into  a  car  behind.  Walter  supposed  that  the  shift  ing 
process  was  now  done,  and.  getting  up,  went  to  the  door 
with  the  intention  of  opening  it  and  jumping  out.  He 
had  hardly  risen,  however,  before  the  car  began  to  move 
forward  again,  and  this  time  it  seemed  to  be  part  of  a 
heavy  train  They  must  be  making  tip  the  fast  freight, 
he  determined;  and  then  he  began  to  wonder  how  near 


JAXUARY  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


1S3 


it  was  to  five  o'clock,  when  the  fast  freight  would  start  on 
its  c;is!  ward  journey. 

Meanwhile  the  car  was  moving  faster  and  faster,  and 
Walter  found  it  difficult  to  walk  as  far  as  the  door.  He 
wmild  roll  it  back,  lie  thought,  and  be  ready  to  yet  out 
wben  tbe  car  stopped.  But  try  as  hard  as  he  iniirht.be 
«•(  >uld  not  roll  it  back,  and  the  speed  of  the  car  kept  all  the 
time  iiiei-e.isiiiir.  With  a  <rrowin<j-  sense  of  alarm.  Walter 
pulled  out  his  watch,  and  looked  at  the  face  by  a  ra.\  of 
light  which  streamed  in  through  the  door. 

It  was  as  much  a.-,  be  could  do  now  to  keep  on  his  feet, 
and  be  had  to  hold  on  to  the  frame  work  of  the  car  with 
one  hand,  while  he  steadi'd  the  watch  with  tin-  other. 
Was  his  watch  fast  '.  That  could  not  be;  it  bail  not  train- 
ed nor  lost  a  minute  in  a  month.  Dm  the  hands  pointed 
to  ten  minutes  after  live;  and  while  the  car  jolted  over 
switches  and  swung  around  curves,  until  be  could  no 
longer  stand,  tin-  dismaying  thought  forced  itself  upon 
"Waller  that  this  was  the  fast  freight,  already  on  its  way. 

l-'c  ir  a  moment  lie  hardly  realized  the  situation  ;  but  as 
he  began  to  think  over  what  he  knew  about  the  train 
the  outlook  In c:inie  very  unpleasant  indeed.  K\cept  for 
water,  it  would  not  stop  until  it  reached  New  York.  Kven 
if  it  did  stop,  the  sides  of  the  ear  were  so  solid  that  be 
might  kick  and  pound  and  call  out  all  nijrht  without  be 
ing  beard  by  the  few  brakemen  who  had  tbe  train  ill 
charge,  and  who  it  was  quite  likely  would  not  come  near 
his  car  at  all.  It  was  called  fast,  but  a  fast  freight  is  very  ] 
different  from  a  fast  express,  and  Walter  could  not  hope 
that  it  would  reach  New  York  within  thirty  hours.  By 
that  time  he  miy'iit  be  starved  to  death.  The  very  prospeel 
of  so  long  a  fast  made  him  hungry.  How  long  could 
people  live,  he  wondered,  without  eating  '  The  recollec 
tion  of  Dr.  Tanner  gave  him  some  comfort,  but  then  Dr. 
Tanner  bad  bad  all  the  water  he  wanted,  while  Walter  did 
not  have  a  drop. 

l'>y  this  time  he  bad  crept  back  to  bis  corner,  where  be 
braced  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  t  hough  as  the  train 
went  slill  faster,  and  the  empty  car  swayed  from  side  to 
side  like  a  ship  at  sea.  tin-  boy  was  shaken  and  jolted  un- 
til every  bone  in  his  body  beiran  to  ache.  Before  him 
stretched  out  tbe  Ion tr  and  weary  hours.  I  low  should  he 
ever  endure  them  .'  If  he  could  stand  the  hunger  and 
thirst,  bow  could  he  bear  the  cold  of  the  autumn  night, 
already  beginning  to  creep  in  through  the  cracks  of  the 
car?  What  report  would  the  boys  carry  back  when  they 
did  not  lind  him  .'  And  what  would  his  father  and  mo- 
ther think  i  He  had  never  staid  away  from  them  a  night 
ill  his  life.  How  frightened  they  would  be!  and  how 
completely  at  a.  loss  for  any  clew  to  bis  whereabouts!  If 
Walter  had  been  a  fugitive  from  justice  he  could  not 
more  completely  have  covered  up  his  tracks. 

On  and  on  went  the  train,  around  curves,  over  bridges 
— as  Walter  could  tell  from  the  sound — past  other  trains, 
through  towns  and  villages,  battering  and  bruising  the 
boy's  slender  frame  with  every  bounce  and  jolt,  until  at 
last,  out  of  weariness,  Walter  fell  asleep.  Once  or  twice 
in  the  night  he  woke  up,  cramped,  hungry,  and  chilled, 
though  it  was  not  so  cold  as  he  had  feared  it  would  be, 
and  the  flight  of  time  gave  him  a  little  more  courage. 

By-and-by,  through  the  crevices  of  the  door,  he  discov- 
ered the  welcome  daylight.  So  much,  at  any  rate,  of  his 
journey  was  accomplished;  but  what  would  he  not  give 
for  a  good  breakfast '(  As  the  day  went  on,  and  his  watch 
told  him  it  was  nine  o'clock,  he  fancied  the  boys  going  to 
school,  and  wondering  why  he  did  not  appear;  his  father 
and  mother,  filled  with  increasing  alarm,  going  here  and 
there  in  search  of  him;  the  papers  getting  hold  of  it,  and 
announcing  in  startling  head-lines,  "Boy  lost!"  But  all 
Walter  could  do,  though  he  was  tired  and  faint  and  anx- 
ious about  the  anxiety  of  those  at  home,  was  to  wait — and 
this  is  always  the  hardest  duty  in  the  world. 

It  wanted  a  few   minutes  of  noon  when  Walter  was 


suddenly  startled  by  feeling  the  onward  motion  of  the 
train  checked,  and  the  car  in  which  he  was  imprisoned 
violently  shaken  from  side  to  side.  For  a  moment,  as  he 
himself  was  rolled  about  on  the  floor,  he  thought  that 
the  car  was  goiny  to  upset;  but  presently  it  righted  and 
stood  still.  Kvidently  an  accident  had  happened,  though 
as  to  what  it  was  Walter  could  not  form  any  idea. 

Xow.  when  tin'  train  had  stopped,  however,  was  his 
chance  to  make  himself  heard.  With  all  his  might  be  kick- 
ed against  the  door,  and  cried  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice; 
but  no  one  came,  lie  thought  of  stories  he  had  read  about. 
pe. .pie  who  were  shut  up  in  dungeons,  and  imagined  him- 
self to  be  one  of  them.  If  he  had  been  uneasy  before,  he 
was  almost  wild  now.  What  could  be  the  matter  .'  How 
could  he  make  any  one  hear  .'  He  was  putting  these  ques- 
tions to  himself,  when  all  at  once,  from  the  rear  of  the 
train,  came  a  .terrible  roar  and  crash,  with  the  sound  of 
splintering  wood.  Before  he  could  think  what  had  hap- 
pened Ins  own  car  rose  up  on  end,  and  Walter  found 
himself  swiftly  bin-led  down  its  inclined  floor. 

As  the  boy's  senses  cleared  he  reali/.ed  that  a  second 
accident  had  occurred.  Looking  up  to  the  rear  end  of 
the  car.  now  above  his  head,  he  saw  that  it  was  broken 
away,  and  through  a  wide  gap  he  could  see  the  blue  sky. 
If  he  could  only  climb  up  to  it.  here  was  a  way  of  escape. 
Fortunately,  though  a  good  deal  bruised,  he  was  not  hurt, 
and  tbe  excitement  of  the  occasion  gave  him  strength. 
The  car  had  been  raised  up  at  an  angle  of  more  than  for 
ty-live  degrees;  its  floid-  was  smooth  and  slippei-y,  and  it 
was  with  t  lie  greatest  difficulty  t  hat  Walter  could  scram 
hie  to  the  end. 

When,  after  several  reverses,  be  finally  reached  it,  and 
put  his  head  out  of  the  opening,  he  witnessed  a  scene  of 
tile  wildest  confusion.  Whatever  might  have  happened 
before,  this  time  the  train  had  been  run  into  from  behind. 
(  'ars  were  piled  one  upon  I  he  other,  and  acros.  both  tracks, 
and  their  contents  were  scattered  everywhere  around. 
The  car  in  which  he  had  been  imprisoned  had  been  the 
last  one,  it  seemed,  to  feel  the  force  of  the  shock,  and  was 
thrown  up  by  a  platform  car  passing  underneath.  Not  a 
man  was  anywhere  in  siyht. 

Waller  did  not  waste  much  time  in  getting  down  from 
his  elevated  position  and  walking  back  to  the  scene  of 
the  collision.  Here  be  discovered  that  it  was  a  "wild- 
cat" engine  which  had  done  the  mischief,  and  had  wreck- 
ed itself  in  the  operation.  There  was  110  one  around,  but 
as  Walter  drew  near  be  began  to  hear  dismal  groans 
coming  out  of  the  debris,  and  to  realize  that  of  all  the 
people  on  the  train --conductor,  brakemen,  and  engineer 
— he  alone  had  escaped  injury.  For  a  moment  he  felt 
sick,  but  as  he  heard  a  voice  calling  to  him  from  the  ruins 
of  the  caboose,  he  hurried  up,  and  presently  discovered 
the  form  of  a  man,  whom  he  took  to  be  the  conductor, 
underneath  a  mass  of  wreckage.  The  voice  was  very 
feeble,  and  Walter  had  to  bend  over  to  hear  it. 

"Say,"  the  conductor  exclaimed,  "what  time  is  that 
Chicago  express  due  here?" 

Walter  stared.  He  did  not  know  anything  about  the 
Chicago  express,  except  that  it  was  due  at  Wentworth  at 
midnight.  Why  should  the  conductor  ask  him?  And 
why  should  not  the  conductor  be  more  concerned  about 
his  own  escape  .' 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  '.'It  isn't  due  now, 
is  it  ?  Hadn't  you  better  let  me  help  you  out  of  that  ?" 

The  man  shook  his  head.  "No,  no,"  he  cried;  "the 
express  is  due  presently,  and  if  it  isn't  flagged  it  will 
come  around  the  curve  ahead  and  run  into  this  wreck. 
Is  there  a  man  around  to  run  up  the  track  and  flag  it  ?" 

Walter  looked  up  and  down  the  track.  It  was  a  lone- 
ly place,  miles  it  seemed  from  any  settlement,  and  not  a 
person  could  bs  seen.  His  own  heart  began  to  beat  more 
quickly. 

"No," he  said,  "there  isn't  any  one." 


184 


HARPER'S  TO 


"Then  you'll  have  to  go,"  said  the  conductor.  "We're  all 
smashed  up  here.  First  the  engine  went  oft'  the  track,  and  that 
broke  up  the  engineer  and  fireman ;  and  while  the  brakemen 
and  I  were  getting  our  wrecking  tools  out  of  the  caboose,  some- 
thing ran  into  us  from  behind,  and  broke  us  up  too.  I  suppose 
it  was  a  'wild-cat,'  or  else  there  would  have  been  somebody 
around." 

Walter  nodded  his  head.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "it  was  a  wild- 
cat, and  I  guess  the  engineer  of  that  came  to  grief  too.  But 
is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  before  I  go  ?" 

The  conduct- 
or uttered  an 
exclamation  of 
pain. 

"Oh,  do  go 
ahead,  "he  said. 
"  Don't  mind 
me  ;  there  are 
only  half  a  doz- 
en of  us  here, 
and  there'll  be 
five  hundred 
people  in  the 
express.  We'll 
hold  out,  I 
guess,  till  you 
get  back,  and 
if  we  don't — 
Say,  young  fel- 
low, just  take 
down  my  wife's 
name,  will  you? 
It's  Mrs.  James1' 
— he  stopped  a 
moment. 

"What  was 
that?"  he  asked. 

Walter  list- 
ened, while  his 
face  grew  pale. 
Far  away  up  the 
track  sounded 
the  faint  note 
of  a  locomotive 
whistle. 

"Run  '"cried 
the  conductor. 
"  Never  mind 
me.  There's  a 
red  flag  lying 
on  the  track. 
Go  as  far  as 
you  can,  for  it's 
a  down  grade, 
and  the  train 
will  be  coming 
like  the  wind." 

Before      the 
conductor   was 
through,  Wal- 
ter had  snatch- 
ed up  the  flag 
aiidhurriedoff. 
He  had  not  re- 
alized before  how  shaky  his  limbs  were,  nor  how  faint  he  was 
from  lack  of  food :  but  as  he  ran  past  the  overturned  engine  of 
his  own  train,  and  around  the  curve  that  lay  ahead,  it  was  as 
much  as  he  could  do  to  keep  from  falling  down.      He  had  not 
failed  to  take  in  the  conductor's  last  warning.    The  express  was 
the  fastest  train  on  the  road;  it  would  be  running  over  forty 
miles  an  hour,  and  he  must  meet  it  far  enough  away  from  the 
wreck  to  give  it  time  to  check  its  tremendous  momentum  and 
come  to  a  full  stop.     Once  more  he  heard  its  whistle  in  the 


distance.  Presently  it  would  be  thundering  down  upon.  him. 
On  he  ran  as  fast  as  his  trembling  legs  would  carry  him,  until, 
turning  a  curve,  he  could  see  the  thread  of  smoke  far  down  the 
narrowing  track.  Walter  unfurled  the  flag  and  waved  it  over 
his  head.  His  heart  thumped  up  and  down  in  his  breast,  his 
legs  shook  so  that  he  could  scarcely  stand,  and  it  was  all  that 
he  could  do  to  hold  the  flag  in  his  nerveless  fingers.  He  felt  as 
if  he  were  going  to  faint.  What  if  he  gave  out  before  the  train 
came  and  the  engineer  did  not  see  him !  With  one  arm  he 
grasped  a  telegraph  pole,  while  with  the  other  he  continued 


BUILDING    CASTLI 


more  and  more  feebly  to  wave  the  signal.  Nearer  and  nearer 
came  the  train,  but  before  it  reached  him  Walter's  strength  had 
given  way.  He  dropped  at  the  foot  of  the  pole,  and  the  engi- 
neer, as  the  train  dashed  by,  looked  down  from  the  cab  window 
on  a  boy's  still  form  pillowed  on  a  red  flag. 

Among  the  passengers  on  the  express  that  day  was  the  Pre- 
sident of  the  railroad — Mr.  Watson — who,  with  his  wife,  son, 
and  party  of  friends,  occupied  a  hotel  car  at  the  rear  of  the 


TSTG  PEOPLE. 


185 


train.  They  were  running  at  the  highest  speed,  when  Mr. 
Watson  suddenly  felt  the  pressure  of  the  air-brakes  upon  the 
wheels;  and  Hiram,  who  was  looking  out  of  the  window,  per- 
jeived  at  the  same  moment  a  motionless  figure  lying  by  the 
side  of  the  track. 

"Oh,  papa!"  he  cried,  "I  believe  we've  run  over  somebody!" 
Mr.  Watson  started  hurriedly  for  the  rear  platform,  follow- 
ed by  Hiram,  who  could  with  difficulty  be  kept  from  jumping 
jff  when  the  train  stopped,  and  before  it  began  to  back  down. 
In  a  moment,  however,  it  was  moving  slowly  back  to  the  spot 


'  and  we'll  take  you  right 


- 


S  IN    THE    AIR. 

>vhere  the  engineer  had  seen  the  boy,  while  Hiram  waited  in  a 
'ever  of  impatience  on  the  platform  steps.  At  the  first  glimpse 
>f  the  red  flag,  before  the  cars  had  stopped,  he  jumped  off  and 
nade  haste  to  the  telegraph  pole,  where  the  figure  lay.  He 
•ould  see  at  once  that  the  boy  had  not  been  run  over,  and  as  he 
melt  by  the  motionless  form  the  dark  eyes  opened  and  looked 
up  questioningly  into  his. 

"  Is  the  train  safe  ?"  the  boy  asked,  faintly. 

Hiram  nodded. 


"Oh  yes:  it's  all  right,"  he  said; 
into  our  car." 

The  other  breathed  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 

"There's  a  smash  up  just  ahead,"  he  murmured.  "Tell  the 
conductor  to  go  slow." 

Then  he  closed  his  eyes,  while  Mr.  Watson  and  one  or  two 
other  gentlemen,  who  had  meanwhile  come  up,  lifted  him  in 
their  arms  and  carried  him  on  board  the  car.  Here,  however, 
while  the  train  moved  slowly  ahead,  Mrs.  Watson's  minis)  ra- 
tions restored  him  to  consciousness,  if  not  to  strength. 

"  It  was  aw- 
fully silly  in 
me  to  go  and 
faint,"  he  ex- 
claimed, apol- 
ogetically, as 
soon  as  he  could 
speak.  ' '  But, 
you  see,  I  ran 
pretty  hard, 
and  then  I  had 
not  eaten  any- 
thing since  yes- 
terday noon." 

"But  I  don't 
understand," 
said  Mrs.  Wat- 
son. "Don't 
you  live  round 
here  ?" 

He  laughed 
alittlenervous- 
ly.  "Oh  no," 
he  said;  "I'm 
a  sort  of  stow- 
away. I  got 
locked  up  in 
the  freight-car 
at  Wentworth 
last  night.  We 
live  in  Went- 
worth, and  my 
father  is  Judge 
Carlisle.  If  the 
collision  hadn't 
stove  a  hole  in 
the  car,  I'd  be 
in  there  now." 
"And  where 
would  we  be?" 
asked  Hiram, 
soberly. 

Walter  turn- 
ed pale  again. 
"  The  wreck 
lies  across  both 
the  tracks,"  he 
said.  "If  you 
had  kept  on, 
you  would  have 
run  into  it. 
There  are  half  a 
dozen  men  bur- 
ied in  it  now, 

sir" — turning  to  Mr.  Watson.  "Everybody  in  the  train  was 
smashed  up  but  me.  And  the  conductor  wouldn't  let  me  stop 
to  pull  him  out.  He  began  to  give  me  a  message  to  his  wife, 
but  he  wouldn't  even  finish  that,  because  he  heard  the  train 
coming.  Here  we  are  now,  sir"— as  the  train  slowed  up.  and 
finally  came  to  a  stop.  "  Please  let  me  get  out.  I'm  all  right 
now,  and  I  want  to  tell  that  conductor  I  wasn't  too  late." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  train  hands  were  hard  at  work 
extricating  the  injured  men,  none  of  whom,  happily,  were  seri- 


186 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ously  hurt.  How  tliey  escaped  death  no  one  could  tell, 
but  no  one  suffered  more  than  a  few  bruises  or  a  fractured 
limb,  which  time  would  easily  repair.  To  Walter's  great 
delight,  the  conductor  recognized  him  at  once. 

''Ah,"  he  said,  as  cordially  as  the  pain  of  his  wounds 
would  allow,  "you're  the  hoy  that  saved  the  express. 
Well,  I  guess  Mr.  Watson  won't  forget  it." 

Walter  turned  red. 

'•  I  only  did  what  you  told  me."  lie  said. 

"Well,  you  did  it  right,"  said  the  conductor,  as  he 
limped  away  to  the  express.  "Not  everybody  would  have 
had  sense  enough  to  do  that.  Only  I  don't  see  where  you 
dropped  from  just  at  that  moment." 

The  boy  laughed. 

"Oh,  I  live  in  Wentworth,"  he  said.  "I  was  a  passen- 
ger on  your  train.  You  locked  me  up  in  that  Blue-line 
car  yonder." 

A  look  of  amazement  spread  over  the  man's  face. 

"Locked  up  in  the  car.  were  you  ?  And  then  brought 
to  this  place  on  purpose  to  flag  that  train  !  Well,  I  call 
that  Providential.  Because  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  you 
know,  that  express  would  have  been  a  total  wreck."  He 
paused  for  a  moment  as  if  the  Providence  were  more  than 
he  could  take  in.  "Well,"  he  added,  heartily,  "I'll  nev- 
er forget  it,  and  I  guess  the  company  won't  either." 

And  the  company  did  not.  A  few  days  after  Walter 
got  home,  and  when  the  excitement  of  his  departure  and 
return  had  passed  away,  he  received  by  express  a  little 
parcel,  and  by  mail  an  official  letter  from  the  railway 
company.  The  parcel,  when  he  opened  it.  disclosed  a 
beautiful  gold  watch,  while  the  letter,  which  was  signed 
"  H.  S.  Watson,  President,"  begged  him  to  accept  the 
watch  from  the  directors  of  the  company  in  recognition 
of  his  services  in  saving  from  destruction  the  Chicago  ex- 
press. 

Along  with  the  letter  came  a  note  addressed  in  a  boy's 
scravvly  hand,  and  reading  as  follows: 

"DEAR  WALTER, — You  didn't  know  papa  was  President  of 
the  roiid,  did  yon?  I  \viinleil  to  tell  yon  awfully  that  day, 
but  papa  wouldn't,  let  me  say  anything  about  it.  Isn't  tlie 
•wa.teh  a  beauty  '-.  I  hope  it  will  keep  good  time.  What  a  lucky 
fellow  you  are,  anyhow!  Xot  only  to  get  a,  gold  wateh,  lint  to 
have  the  chance  of  riding  500  miles  on  a  freight,  train.  Papa 
says  I  may  some  day,  but,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  in  the  ca- 
boose. What  I'd  like  is  to  lie  a  brakcman. 

'•Now  what  I  want  to  know  is  this.  Next  month  papa  and 
some  of  his  friends  and  I  are  going  out  on  the  plains  to  shoot,  buf- 
faloes, and  papa,  is  going  to  ask  yonr  father  to  let  yon  come 
along.  We  have  a  special  car.  yon  know,  and  if  you  can  only 
come  we  will  have  immense  fun.  Don't,  yon  think  your  father 
will  let  you  ?  Please  let  me  know  right,  away. 

'•  Your  friend 

"  HiiiAM  WATSON." 

To  this  urgent  appeal  Judge  Carlisle  could  not  say  no, 
and  Walter  cherishes  eager  anticipations  of  a  buffalo-hunt 
and  a  long  ride  in  a  car  which  will  be  more  commodious 
and  agreeable,  notwithstanding  Hiram's  preferences,  than 
the  fast  freight. 


THE  GREAT  STONE  PICTURE-BOOK. 

BY  CHARLES   BARXAHD. 

YOU  remember  how  from  time  to  time  in  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE we  looked  at  the  strange  work  of  the  waves:  the 
queer  walking  beach  at  Sandy  Hook,  the  long  fight  be- 
tween the  beach  and  the  little  Neversink  River,  the  strange 
flats  and  marshes  that  grow  up  behind  the  travelling  beach- 
es. Then  there  was  the  work  of  the  tide  in  the  East  Riv- 
er, and  the  fantastic  carved  hills  cut  out  by  the  sea  in 
Boston  Bay. 

Many  of  you  who  live  in  the  country  may  say  that  you 
have  no  chance  to  go  to  the  sea-shore  and  examine  the 
work  of  the  waves  and  tides.  This  does  not  make  so 
much  difference  as  you  think,  for  in  nearly  all  parts  of 


New  England,  New  York,  and  the  Middle  States  you  can 
find  a  beach.  It  is  dead  and  dry  now,  and  the  waves 
went  away  long,  long  years  ago,  yet  at  one  time  they  did 
roar  and  tumble  there  as  they  do  now  on  Long  Island. 

You  know  that  the  world  has  been  many  millions  of 
years  the  workshop  of  the  winds  and  waves.  If  any  one 
had  been  in  North  America,  say  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty 
thousand  years  ago — for  no  one  can  say  exactly  when  it 
happened — he  would  have  found  that  it  was  a  pretty  cold 
country.  North  America  was  nearly  the  same  shape  that 
it  is  now,  but  a  strange  thing  had  happened.  All  the  up- 
per part  had  been  lifted  up  out  of  the  sea,  and  it  was  so 
terribly  cold  that  the  whole  country  was  covered  with  a 
thick  sheet  of  ice.  The  ice  covered  all  New  England  and 
the  Middle  States,  and  stretched  clear  across  Long  Island 
Sound  and  Long  Island,  and  out  into  the  sea,  just  as  it 
does  in  Greenland  to-day.  There  were  glaciers  such  as 
we  see  in  Switzerland  and  in  the  valleys  of  the  Connect- 
icut, the  Hudson,  the  Mohawk,  and  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Then  the  land  began  to  sink  down  again  into  the  seaT 
and  the  summers  grew  warmer,  and  the  ice  began  to  melv 
and  form  lakes  and  pools,  shallow  bays  and  rapid  rivers. 
The  whole  mass  of  the  ice  began  to  slide  down  into  the 
sea.  It  ploughed  up  the  loose  earth,  and  tore  off  the 
rocks,  and  rolled  them  over  and  over,  crushing  and  grind- 
ing them  into  sand  and  gravel.  If  we  had  lived  then  we 
should  have  said  the  sea  was  invading  the  land;  the 
fact  is,  the  land  was  sinking  in  the  water,  and  every  year 
the  beaches  moved  farther  and  farther  into  the  country. 
There  were  travelling  beaches,  and  there  were  great  fights 
between  the  rivers  of  ice-water  and  the  stormy  waves  that 
tore  up  the  sand  and  flung  it  down  before  the  floods  from 
the  hills.  There  are  hundreds  of  places  in  New  England, 
and  many  places  in  all  the  Northern  and  Middle  States  as 
far  west  as  Ohio,  and  all  through  the  South,  where  you 
can  find  these  old  beaches.  Every  railroad  cutting  made 
through  a  gravelly  hill  will  show  you  rounded  pebbles 
and  stones,  layers  of  sand  and  gravel,  all  sorted  out  exact- 
ly as  we  see  them  on  the  shore  to-day. 

Look  about  and  see  if  you  can  find  a  sand-bank  or  a 
gravel-hill.  Sand  is  used  in  house-building,  and  the  ma- 
sons in  your  town  will  be  pretty  sure  to  find  a  place  where 
lliey  can  dig  it  out  to  put  in  their  mortar  beds.  Look  at 
one  of  these  sand-pits.  The  sand  is  arranged  in  layers 
and  sheets.  Take  these  round  stones  sorted  out  according 
to  their  sizes  in  the  hill.  You  can  not  think  the  sand 
made  itself.  You  can  not  imagine  the  Creator  rounded 
all  these  stones  and  placed  them  in  layers  merely  for 
amusement,  or  to  make  something  to  puzzle  us.  Every- 
thing we  see  in  the  world  had  a  cause,  and  if  you  find 
something  far  back  in  the  country  that  seems  just  like  the 
sea-shore,  you  may  be  very  sure  the  sea  was  once  there. 
Saud  and  gravel  are  made  by  the  waves  where  they  meet 
the  land  or  roll  down  the  river,  so  we  feel  sure  wherever 
the  sand  is  now  that  once  the  waves  were  there. 

If  you  were  ever  down  upon  a  lo\v  flat  beach  when  the 
tide  was  coming  in,  you  may  have  seen  that  as  the  water 
crept  up,  little  capes,  straits,  islands,  and  so  on,  were  form- 
ed along  the  edge  of  the  water.  Every  change  of  level  in 
the  water  changed  the  shape  of  the  miniature  continents. 
So  it  has  been  with  the  real  continents.  Neither  Europe 
nor  the  Americas,  Asia,  Africa,  or  Australia  are  now  of  the 
shape  they  were  years  ago.  They  have  been  lifted  up  out 
of  the  water  and  let  down  again,  and  each  time  the  coast- 
line moved  backward  or  forward.  Continents  became 
archipelagoes,  and  then  scattered  islands,  and  a.  last  sank 
in  the  sea.  Rivers  turn  into  bays,  and  valleys  became 
sounds  and  straits.  Europe  was  once  much  larger  than 
now,  and  once  of  wholly  different  shape.  Ireland  joined 
England,  and  England  touched  France.  The  Connecticut 
Valley  was  a  bay,  and  the  Hudson  another,  with  a  big  cape 
between. 

Everywhere  there  has  been  change;  not  suddenly,  but 


JANUARY  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


187 


slowly,  just  as  it  is  to-day.  No  man  has  seen  Sandy  Hook 
growing,  but  it  does  grow.  No  one  can  measure  how  fast 
the  hills  fall  into  the  sea  near  Boston,  yet  the  work  goes 
on  all  the  time.  The  gravel  heaps  and  sand-banks  of  New 
England  and  the  sandy  barrens  of  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia  are  comparatively  new.  That  last  change,  when 
the  beaches  extended  far  back  into  the  country,  was  really 
only  a  little  while  ago,  perhaps  half  a  million  years,  more 
or  less.  Behind  all  that  were  older  seas  and  more  ancient 
shores.  As  soon  as  there  began  to  be  land  there  was  a 
beach.  Perhaps  the  first  land  was  only  a  sand-bar.  Vol- 
canoes threw  out  hot  rocks  and  ashes,  and  these  fell  in  the 
ssa,  and  were  ground  up  into  sand.  These  old,  old  beach- 
es, so  venerable  no  man  can  count  the  years  that  have 
passed  since  the  sea  roared  about  them,  are  dead  and  turn- 
ed to  stone.  To-day,  as  we  know,  they  are  called  sand- 
stones. You  can  see  the  ripple  marks  and  even  the  old 
shells  in  the  stones  we  put  into  our  houses. 

People  who  have  looked  at  the  different  kinds  of  rocks 
and  have  studied,  as  we  have  done,  the  work  of  the  sea, 
the  tides,  and  waves,  have  tried  to  make  a  science  out  of  it 
all.  They  call  it  geology.  Perhaps  you  fancy  that  a  dry 
dull  science.  Why,  you  are  a  geologist  yourself.  I  have 
told  you  where  these  queer  things  about  the  rocks  can  be 
found,  and  if  you  have  seen  them  or  have  tried  to  imagine 
how  they  look,  then  you  have  studied  the  science  too. 
The  next  thing  is  to  try  for  yourself,  and  see  if  you  can  turn 
over  a  few  more  leaves  of  the  great  stone  picture-book  in 
which  I  have  shown  you  a  few  of  the  most  curious 
pictures. 

NAN.* 

BY   MRS.  LUCY  C.  LIIJ.IE, 
AUTHOR  OF  " MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IT  was  still  daylight,  and  as  Nan  entered  the  parlor  she 
saw  Miss  Rolf  seated  in  one  of  the  windows  before  her 
writing-table,  and  on  it  were  strewn  some  papers,  evident- 
ly recently  in  use. 

Never  had  Aunt  Letty 's  voice  been  kinder  than  when 
she  said,  "  Come  over  here,  Annice,  and  sit  down.  I  want 
to  tell  you  my  plan." 

So  Nan  did  as  she  was  told,  and  then  Aunt  Letty,  after 
a  little  fumbling  among  her  papers,  said:  "I  told  you  I 
had  a  plan;  but  I  wanted  to  discuss  the  wisdom  of  it  with 
Dr.  Rogers  before  I  spoke  of  it  to  you." 

"Yes,  aunt,"  said  Nan,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Miss 
Rolf's  face. 

"  It  is  this,  then,  my  dear.  If — if  I  see  fit  to  leave  you 
in  my  will  any  large  sum  of  money,  you  must  know  that 
the  use  of  it  is  a  great — a  great  responsibility.  Money  is 
not  given  us  just  for  ourselves,  Annice.  We  owe  our  vise 
of  it  not  only  to  God,  who  let  us  have  it,  but  to  those  who 
have  daily  need  of  it.  I  should  suffer  greatly  if  I  thought 
I  was  the  means  of  your  misusing  any  money  I  might  leave 
you.  I  would  rather  see  you  work  hard  for  your  daily 
bread  than  have  you  sin  by  ill-using  any  fortune.  I  wear 
rich  clothes,  but  these  I  always  care  for,  and  you  do  not 
know  how  little  I  really  spend;  but  were  I  to  buy  simply 
for  the  sake  of  decking  my  person  I  should  call  it  a  misuse 
of  the 'money  God  has  seen  fit  to  let  me  have.  Nothing  is 
more  odious  than  a  pompous,  a  purse-proud,  or  a  miserly 
rich  person."  Aunt  Letty  broke  off  here  with  a,  smile. 
"I  must  not  make  my  sermon  too  long,  dear.  I  wanted 
first  to  make  you  feel  the  importance  of  the  trust  I  am  go- 
ing to  repose  in  you.  Now,  then — 

Nail's  whole  heart  shone  in  her  face;  she  felt  impressed, 
excited,  yet  bewildered. 

*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"  Now  I  have  thought,"  said  Miss  Rolf,  "  for  some  time, 
of  making  you  give  away  certain  sums  in  charity,  and  it 
occurred  to  me  to-day  that  a  very  good  plan  would  be  for 
you  to  have,  in  a  certain  way,  the  charge  of  this  poor  mo- 
ther and  her  child." 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Nan. 

"I  would  not  give  you  the  money  outright  to  spend  for 
them,  for  you  are  too  young  for  that ;  but  at  certain  stores 
in  town  you  could  have  credit,  and  while  I  would  superin- 
tend everything,  you  would  buy  everything  for  them. 
What  I  would  exact  from  yon  would  be  a  strictly  kept 
account  -  book.  My  bills  would  come  in  once  in  six 
months,  but  you  would  have  to  show  me  your  book  eveiy 
week  or  month." 

Nan's  eyes  nearly  danced  out  of  her  head. 

"  Of  course,  if  I  found  you  were  too  young  for  this,"  Miss 
Rolf  continued,  "it  could  be  given  up  any  time;  but  Miss 
Prior  assures  me  your  strongest  point  is  figures,  and  you 
can  at  once  learn  to  keep  accounts  regularly.  Then  I 
shall  expect  you  to  think  out  plans  for  your  people,  and 
we  will  talk  them  over." 

But  as  to  talking  now,  it  seemed  to  Nan  impossible. 
She  could  find  neither  words  nor  thoughts  which  would 
answer,  only  within  her  heart  was  something  like  a  quiet 
prayer  that  nearly  ended  in  sobs. 

When  Miss  Rolf  had  discussed  her  plan  with  Dr.  Rogers, 
she  had  said:  "I  feel  sure  I  am  right  about  this  child. 
She  has  a  real  taste  for  good  works,  and  this  plan  of  mine 
will  steady  her,  while  the  work  will  please  her  thoroughly." 

And  Dr.  Rogers  had  agreed  with  Miss  Rolf  fully. 

Lance  was  summoned  soon  after,  and  Miss  Rolf  and  he 
and  Nan  talked  over  a  good  plan  for  comforting  the  wan- 
derers. I  say  talked,  but  Nan  only  listened,  with  glisten- 
ing eyes  and  a  beating  heart.  How  she  longed  to  confide 
in  Joan  !  It  seemed  so  long  to  wait  to  see  her,  but  it  would 
not  do,  she  felt  sure,  to  indulge  impatience  of  this  sort 
just  at  the  very  outset. 

Early  the  next  morning  Phyllis  came  over,  by  Miss 
Rolf's  request,  to  continue  the  fascinating  discussion.  It 
was  evident  that  she  scarcely  believed  Nan  old  enough  for 
such  a  charge,  but  of  course,  as  Miss  Rolf  said,  it  could  so 
easily  be  taken  from  her  that  it  was  certainly  worth  the 
trial. 

Miss  Rolf's  idea  was  that  a  cottage  could  be  taken  for 
Mrs.  Travers,  and  that  David  could  go  to  school  in  the 
mornings,  and  work  at  Rolf  House  in  the  afternoons.  Miss 
Rolf  had  no  idea  of  bringing  the  boy  up  to  idleness. 
Should  he  ever  show  any  special  talent  for  one  of  the 
higher  professions,  that  could  be  developed  later,  or  even 
it'  lie  showed  talent  for  classical  study,  time  could  be  given 
him  for  such. 

Driving  to  church.  Nan  looked  eagerly  at  every  possible 
cottage;  but  it  was  not  until  some  days  later,  when  Mrs. 
Travers  was  decidedly  better,  and  David  quite  well  enough 
to  sit  up  nearly  all  day.  that  the  cottage  was  found.  One 
morning'  Dr.  Rogers  came  into  Rolf  House,  saying: 

"  Well,  Nan,  I've  just  what  will  suit  you,  I  think,  in  the 
way  of  a  cottage." 

Nan  blushed  and  smiled. 

"  May  I  take  her  with  me,  Miss  Rolf?"  the  good  doctor 
went  on.      And  Miss  Rolf  answering  "Yes,"  Nan  was' 
soon  in  the  doctor's  gig,  driving  along  the  river  road  near 
to  Mr.  Blake's. 

He  explained  that  he  had  come  upon  a  widow  who 
with  her  daughter  occupied  a  very  comfortable  cottage 
so  much  too  large  for  their  requirements  that  they  were 
very  willing  to  let  one-half  of  it  to  Nan  for  Mrs.  Travers. 
As  Mrs.  Travers  must  always  be  an  invalid,  it  would  be 
better  for  her  to  have  some  one  else  in  the  house  with  her 
while  David  was  so  young. 

"  I  had  thought  of  that,  doctor,"  said  Nan,  shyly. 

"Ho!  ho!"  laughed  the  doctor;  "so  you  really  can 
think,  puss.  That's  a  good  beginning1." 


188 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NAN    MAKING    HER    PURCHASES. 

Nan  would  have  been  much  better  pleased  had  Lance 
and  Joan  been  with  her;  still  she  certainly  enjoyed  her- 
self. The  cottage  stood  in  a  little  garden  of  its  own, 
and  there  was  nice  pasture  for  a  cow,  and  Mrs.  Holt, 
the  occupant,  was  very  well  pleased  to  show  the  doctor 
and  Nan  the  rooms  she  designed  to  let.  There  were  three 
— a  sitting-room,  quite  comfortably  furnished,  and  a  small 
and  a  large  bedroom,  and  Mrs.  Holt  was  willing  to  under- 
take Mrs.  Travers's  cooking.  Everything  looked  bright 
and  cheerful,  and  four  dollars  a  week  for  the  rooms  did 
not  seem  too  much.  But  Nan  hesitated:  ought  she  to 
make  the  bargain  then  and  there  ?  She  glanced  at  tin- 
doctor,  but  he  said  nothing  until  she  whispered  the  in- 
quiry. Then  he  said : 

"You  didn't  ask  about  her  charges  for  cooking.  Bet- 
ter have  Mrs.  Travel's  send  in  her  own  food.'' 

Nan  felt,  foolishly,  as  though  this  had  been  a  great 
oversight  on  her  part ;  but  she  soon  arranged  to  pay  fifty 
cents  more  a  week  for  the  cooking,  and  then  the  doctor 
handed  her  a  little  note-book,  in  which  she  was  to  enter 
these  negotiations. 

Nan  had  a  sort  of  feeling  that  Phyllis  would  not  like 
the  rooms.  The  little  parlor  was  certainly  very  gaudy, 
and  its  ornaments  cheap-looking';  but  she  reflected — per- 
haps they  might  change  that  before  Mrs.  Travel's  took 
possession.  She  would  ask  Phyllis's  advice. 

CHAPTER  XX. 

JOAN  stood  outside  of  the  school-room  door  in  Rolf 
House,  knocking  very  timidly.  It  was  half  past  three ; 
lessons  must  be  over;  but  then,  thought  Joan,  with  a  lit- 
tle screw  to  her  nose,  that  Miss  Prior  would  probably 
keep  Nan  until  the  very  last  possible  minute. 

"Come  in,"  a  cold  voice  said;  and  Joan  opened  the 
door,  looking  in  on  the  large  bare  room,  with  Nan  in  its 
centre,  and  Miss  Prior,  with  her  head  bound  up  from 
toothache,  listening  to  her  arithmetic. 

Things  were  going  better  just  at  this  moment,  for  Nan 
had  quite  a  genius  for  figures,  and  Miss  Prior  enjoyed 
anything  mathematical.  The  lesson  was  just  over.  Miss 
Prior  was  glad  to  go  home  and  take  care  of  her  suffering 
face,  and  so  Joan  soon  found  herself  alone  with  her  cousin. 

"Well,  Nan,"  she  exclaimed,  "Cousin  Letty  thinks  it 
best  for  Laura  to  go  out  with  us  when  you  buy  the  things. 


That,  I  suppose,  is  to  keep  me 
in  order."' 

Joan  grimaced  and  laugh- 
ed, and  Nan  said,  quickly: 
"  Well,  let's  not  mind,  Joan. 
Do  you  know,  I  fancy  Laura 
hasn't  much  real  pleasure." 

Joan,  who  had  seated  her- 
self in  the  window,  looked 
around  with  a  laugh. 

"Oh  yes,  she  has,  Nan,'' 
she  said;  "she  is  always  with 
those  Phillipses  we  go  to 
school  with,  and  the  Tem- 
pests; and  they  have  all  the 
I'u n  they  want.  And  she 
considers  herself  quite  a 
\  i  'iing  lady  now." 

"She  is  only  fourteen," 
said  Xail. 

"Well,  she  feels  two  hun- 
dred and  four,"  said  Joan. 
"Come,  Nan.  tell  me  what 
you're  going  to  buy." 

Nan  was  on  this  eventful 
morning  starting  out  to  make 
her  first  purchases,  as  it  were, 
on  her  own  account.  She 
was  to  buy  clothes  for  David, 

some  dresses  and  other  things  for  Mrs.  Travers.  Miss 
Eolf  preferred  leaving  her  entirely  to  herself  in  these  mat- 
ters for  one  week.  After  that,  when  the  first  accounts 
were  presented,  she  decided  that  she  could  judge  of  Nan's 
fitness  for  her  new  responsibility.  The  old  lady  had  noli 
tied  various  merchants  in  town  that  her  niece  was  to  be 
given  credit,  and  so  everything  was  in  train. 

Nan  hardly  liked  to  confess  even  to  Joan  her  sense  of 
importance  and  excitement  as  she  started  out  in  the  big- 
family  carriage  with  Laura  and  Joan,  and  Mrs.  Heriot, 
who  had  come  to  matronize  in  a  way  the  youthful  party. 
Joan  busied  her  dark  head  over  Nan's  list,  calling  upon 
her  every  now  and  then  to  help  with  figures  or  writing-. 
In  the  generosity  of  her  nature  she  felt  no  jealousy  of 
Nan's  position,  only  a  pleasurable  sense  of  her  cousin's 
importance.  Laura  liked  the  excitement  of  it.  but,  al- 
though impressed  by  Nan's  new  power,  was  inclined  to 
be  ill-tempered.  She  smiled  upon  Joan's  little  enthusi- 
asms, and  looked  at  Nan  rather  crossly. 

They  stopped  first  before  Messrs.  Ames  &  Ames's  large 
dry-goods  store,  and  there  Nan  was  reminded  of  her  first 
purchases  with  Cousin  Phyllis.  How  long  ago  it  seemed ! 
and  how  little  she  had  then  thought  to  be  so  soon  in  such 
a  position  herself ! 

Two  nice  suits  for  David  were  bought,  and  various 
minor  articles,  and  then  Mrs.  Travers's  dresses  had  to  be 
chosen.  Here  Laura  became  decisive  in  her  opinions,  and 
Mrs.  Heriot  gave  some  sound  advice,  while  Nan's  fancy 
wavered  between  a  green  eamel's-hair  and  a  nice  dark 
linen,  and  a  light  brown  wool  and  a  gayer  calico.  The 
former  were  chosen  at  last;  and  then  it  was  that  the  clerk 
asked  the  address,  and  Laura,  whose  spirits  had  risen, 
leaned  forward  over  Nan's  shoulder,  saying, 

"Miss  Rolf  said,  I  believe,  it  was  all  to  be  charged." 
"Oh,  certainly,  miss,  certainly!"   rejoined   the  clerk; 
and  Laura  looked  well  satisfied. 

Nan  felt  indignant  for  a  moment  or  two.  Why  couldn't 
Laura  have  left  her  alone?  But  suddenly  the  thought 
came  to  her— was  this  all  done  for  her  pleasure,  or  to 
teach  and  help  her  to  help  others?  This  brought  peace. 
Nan  was  able  to  move  to  the  next  department,  and  bring 
herself  to  ask  Laura's  advice  in  a  gentle  voice. 

Miss  Rolf  had  suggested  buying  some  books,  and  at 
Ames's  were  two  well-stocked  counters,  from  which  Laura 


JANUARY  -j:i,  1S83. 


HARPER'S 


PEOPLE. 


189 


was  a-ked  tn  selecl  one  m1  l\v<>  nice  vulunirs  of  history, 
ami  the  same  of  romance  anil  poetry.  Laura's  taste,  like 
Phyllis's.  was  jniod  ;  and  tin'  books,  it'  a  trille  sentimental, 
were  well  chosen.  Tin'  carriage  was  loaded  with  parcels, 
and  then  the  e-irls  dro\e  in  Margaret  I'.lake's. 

Miss  Kolf  had  desired  Nan  to  choose  tittle  Love  a  silk 
dress  --an  article  such  as  slie  had  eertai n  1  \  never  dreamed 
of  possessing  and  Nan  had  lieen  delighted  with  the  idea. 
She  chose  a  pretty  dark  bi-o\\  n  silk.  Laura  said  Margaret 
would  like  a  trimmini:-  of  lighter  silk:  yet  when  N.m  n 

memlien  d  Love's  (|iiiet  eyes,  the  sober,  happy  little  Face, 

she    could    not    think   of  her   in   anvtliinir   Imt    jn-elty  :iml 

simple  gowns. 

"I  don't  think,  Laura."  she  said,  gently,  "that  Love 
would  like — at— fashionable  kind  of  a  dress;  she  wants 
somel  liiii1.:-  just  nil 

So  Laura  had  laughed  and  turned  au  ay  :  and  the  result 

that  Nan  had  chosen  the  plain,  pretty  brown  silk. 

As  tliev  drove  down   the  river  road   toward   the 


cottage  Nan  leaned  hack  in  the  carriage,  happy  and  e\cil- 
ed.  and  no  doubt  feeling  rather  important ;  yet  something- 
of  the  sermon  she  had  heard  on  Sunday  ran  in  her  mind. 
She  con  hi  not  have  m vet i  the  text.  but  the  words  p.  .in  ted  to 
a  spirit  of  humbleness  when  happy  things  seemed  to  come 
suddenly.  1'oor  little  Nan  !  Hers  had  been  a  hard  life. 
and  she  was  scarcely  fourteen;  and  judged  by  the  stand- 
ard of  Cousin  Phyllis,  or  Laura,  or  Miss  Prior,  she  was  not 
"brilliant."  Yet  in  her  hear:  was  a  steadfast  longing  to 
do  whatever  ( Jod  had  meant  she  should.  Nail  was  a  child  ; 
she  could  not  tell  what  she  on-lit  to  do.  Imt  yet  heart  and 
soul  and  meaning  were  all  pure.  If  she  had  ever  cher- 
ished a  personal  dislike1,  it  was  toward  her  cousin  Laura 
Rolf:  In  it  before  the  drive  had  brought  them  to  the  1  Slakes' 
door,  she  forced  herself  to  look  at  Laura,  and  say,  gently, 
"Are  you  tired  .'  Thank  you  for  helping  me."  There 
was  a  real  sense  of  comfort  ill  feeling-  that  .she  had  so  far 
conquered  herself. 

[TO   I1K    CUM1M  Kll.  ] 


THE  GNOMES  AND  THE  SNOW  MAN. 

BY  S.  H.  CONANT. 


Oir,  the  full  silver  mi  inn   made  it  brilliant  us  day. 
When  a  party  of  gnomes  came  out  trooping  to  play. 
Trooping  out  of  their  caverns  in  earth  far  In-low 
For  a  frolic  and  tumble  about  in  the  snow. 

But  as  they  van  merrily  over  a  hill. 

Lo!  a  terrible  sight    made  them   suddenly  still; 

For  just  at  the  edav  of  a  shadowy  w 1 

A  threatening  monster  In-fore  them  then'  stood! 

"What  is  it?"  they  (|iiestiniied,  in  whispers  low — 

"Some  horrible  giant  from  Barnum's  show? 

Some  terrible  ogre,  with  teeth  like  stones, 

Who  will  mangle  our  bodies  and  crunch  our  bones?" 

They  were  all  too  much  frightened  to  scamper  away. 
Staring  right  at  the  monster  who'd  spoiled  their  play ; 


But  he  stood  stock-still,  as  if  sleeping  or  dead, 

And  the  little  gnomes  soon  lost  a  part  nf  their  dread. 

Then  nearer  and  nearer  the  bolder  ones  crept. 

Still  gaining  in  courage  as  onward  they  slept ; 

'Till  they  burst  out  a-laughing,  "Ha!  ha!  and  ho!  ho! 

See,  the  wonderful  monster  is  made  out  of  snow!" 

And  then  the  whole  party  went  trooping  pell  mell. 
And  with  snow-balls  and  fists  on  the  monster  they  fell; 
In  a  very  few  minutes  demolished  it  lay. 
And  with  three  ringing  cheers  they  went  on  with  their  play. 

When  they  told  their  adventure,  once  safely  at  home, 
••  Let  me  liope  you  will  learn,"  said  the  wrinkled  King  Gnome, 
"When  you  fancy  a  danger,  a  bold  front  to  show, 
And  perhaps  it  will  turn  out  a  mere  man  of  snow." 


190 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FREEZING  EFFECTS. 

RESULT  OF  FOOLING  OVEIl  THE  WASH-BOWL  IN  COLD 
WEATHER. 

DEAR  children,  take  warning— 

Don't,  stand  in  the  morning. 
Like  little  Tom  Noddy,  whose  fate  you  behold; 

*' Oh  dear."  he  cried,  "mother, 

It  is  such  a  bother, 
A  fellow  must  bathe  when  the  days  are  so  cold  !" 

lie  shivered  and  pouted, 

He  fretted  and  flouted. 
And  dipped  in  a  finder,  and  took  up  a  drop. 

'•(Uni.  little  coward  ! 

So  cro.ss  and  s<»  fro  ward  !" 
Said  angry  Jack  Frost  then  ;  "  I  th  ink  /  will  stop. " 

Then  came  the  elf  tripping. 

And  gave  him  a  dripping. 
And  swift,  as  he  shuddered  from  forehead  to  toes, 

Jack  Frost,  with  a  feather 

Of  stern  arctic  weather. 

Just  touched  the  wet  child,  and  you  see  how  he 
froze. 

An  icicle  helmet 

Around  him  is  well  met; 
He's  blue  as  a  little  pint-lied  mortal  can  be. 

"  Ho,  ho  !"  says  Jack,  dancing 

And  shouting  and  prancing. 
*'  Henceforth  you'll  take  care  how  you  trifle  with 
me." 

So,  children,  take  warning — 

Don't  Mand  in  the  morning. 
And  whimper  and  quiver,  but.  eager  and  bold. 

Just  plunge  in  the  water. 

Kach  son  and  each  daughter. 
And  rub  your  cheeks  quickly,  and  laugh  at  the 
cold. 

Poor  little  Tom  Noddy! 

They  came  in  a  body, 
His  father,  his  mother,  his  brothers,  and  all ; 

They  found  him  quite  frigid. 

They  shrieked,  "lie  is  rigid!1' 
Then  wrapped  him  to  thaw  in  a  thick  woollen 
shawl. 

And  never,  oh  !  never, 

Will  poor  Tommy  shiver. 

And  whine  That  it's  cold",  and  he  don't  want  to 
dress. 

Jack  Frost  is  so  crafty, 

So  sly,  and  so  draughty, 
Tom  Noddy  will  shun  him  hereafter,  I  guess. 


OUK  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

liSIPE  (*KAR  LlNCIILNTONl,  NllKTH  CAROLINA. 

MY  DEAII  YOUNG  FRIENDS.— Now  that  Christ- 
mas is  really  over.  I  want  to  tell  you  a  few  things 
about  our  Christmas  at  Woodside.  As  I  have 
told  you  before,  our  scholars  all  began  in  Septem- 
ber to  count  the  weeks  until  ( 'liristmas.  and  grew 
more  eager  as  the  weeks  went  on,  growing  in- 
tensely anxious  as  the  time  drew  near. 

Wr  had  boxes  sent  the  school  by  kind-hearted 
and  generous  friends,  and  I  here  beg  them  all  to 
accept  our  heart-felt  thanks  for  them.  Without 
this  help  we  could  not  carry  on  this  work,  so  you 
may  know  we  fully  appreciate  your  aid. 

Christinas-day  was  perfectly  lovely,  not  cold 
enough  to  keep  any  child  away.  We  had  tin- 
tree  in  the  church,  and  the  scholars  all  marched 
in,  singing.  "Carol,  brothers,  carol,"  the  white 
children  tirst,  followed  by  my  sister  and  Dr.  Rich- 
ardson ;  then  the  colored  school  il  playing  the 
organ),  my  sister  and  Dr.  R.  stowing  them  away 
as  they  tiled  in.  We  did  design  to  have  them 
march  around  the  tree,  but  they  soon  saw  that 


that  was  impracticable.    There  was  trouble  to 
get  them  all  packed  in. 

We  had  a  dear  friend  with  us,  whose  whole 
heart  is  in  missionary  work,  and  she  remarked 
that  the  "Doctor  and  Ida  had  packed  them  away 
like  herrings  in  a  box,"  every  head  showing.  Doc- 
tor distributed  the  candy,  while  Ida  and  I  gave 
the  gifts  from  the  tree.  .Ml  were  happy  and  de- 
lighted, growing  mure  pleased  as  the  things  came 
off. 

Doctor  thought  it  best  to  call  their  attention 
to  the  fact  that  the  best  and  most  faithful  schol- 
ars had  better  and  more  gifts  than  the  others. 
and  I  think  many  of  them  determined  then  and 
there  to  be  very  punctual  the  next  year.  Then 
we  gave  very  pretty  Christmas  cards  as  prizes 
to  the  three 'best  scholars  in  every  class.  The 
faces  of  the  recipients  expressed  perfect  ecstasy 
as  their  names  were  called. 

After  this  we  all  sang  that  old  hymn  for  Christ- 
inas, "  shout  the  glad  fillings, "and  really  it  was 
a  shout  that  went  up  from  many  happy  hearts, 
am]  as  they  all  went  home  there  was  a  chorus  of 
whistles  and  laughterat  the  performances  of  the 
jntnping-jaeks  and  other  toys,  while  the  nice  hats 
and  clothes  were  hugged  up  in  a  careful  and  lov- 
ing manner. 

<  mr  dear  little  church  has  had  many  nice  pre- 
sents on  this  its  first  Christmas-day.  Our  dear 
friend,  who  is  head  of  a  hand  of  young  mission- 
ary workers  called  St.  Mark's  League,  brought 
us  a  font  from  the  dear  little  Leaguers.  It  is  of 
beautiful  walnut-wood,  nicely  polished.  The  cov- 
er is  a  cross.  On  one  side  of  the  bowl,  beautiful- 
ly done,  are  the  letters  "  I.  II.  s."  On  the  other, 
"  For  the  ( 'hureh  of  Our  Saviour,  from  St.  Mark's 
League.  Christmas,  1882."  Also  a  silver  chalice 
and  paten  from  the  same  source,  and  engraved 
in  the  same  way. 

A  dear  young  friend  sent  an  altar  cloth,  frontal 
for  the  lectern,  and  markers,  all  made  of  cardi- 
nal felt  and  plush,  and  finished  with  gold  fringe. 
You  can  not  think  how  pleasant  it  is  to  be  re- 
7nembered  in  such  needed  presents  by  far-away 
friends.  We  were  to  have  a  surplice  and  stole, 
but  the  order  was  not  given  in  time  to  the  socie- 
ty to  have  it  finished  and  sent  home  by  Christmas. 
W'e  will  have  it  very  soon,  and  it  is  pleasant  to 
be  thinking  of  it. 

We  have  had  thirteen  baptisms  since  we  have 
had  the  font.  Our  hard-working  rector  in  L., 
\\  ho  is  a  great  missionary,  gives  us  two  services 
each  month — one  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second 
Sunday,  and  on  the  Thursday  night  nearest  the 
full  moon.  Our  people  can  come  better  when 
there  is  moonlight,  as  some  of  them  do  not  live 
near  the  church. 

We  have  also  had  some  very  delightful  services 
from  a  young  clergyman  who  visited  some  mis- 
sions near  Linroln'ton.  He  has  a  delightful 
\"li •>•.  and  as  we  always  use  a  choral  service,  he 
added  much  to  its  beauty,  and  helped  our  singing 
by  practicing  with  us  while  he  staid  at  Woodside. 
We  fear,  and  yet  are  happy  to  think  and  feel, 
that  the  church  is  too  small,  and  that.it  will  need 
transepts  ami  a  recess  chancel  to  make  it  large 
enough.  This  will  make  it  the  shape  of  a  cross, 
and  it  will  suit  our  mixed  congregation  of  white 
and  colored  people  so  well,  and  will  make  it  very 
much  prettier  than  it  now  is.  We  have  had  so 
much  given  to  us  that  one  would  think  we  could 
not  need  more,  but  we  do  still  need  the  chairs  for 
the  chancel,  and  a  white  linen  cloth  for  commun- 
ion. 

The  Sunday-school  does  very  well  indeed.  The 
children  attend  regularly,  and  seem  very  much 
interested.  We  can  not  teach  them  as  much 
now  as  we  shall  do,  when  the  days  grow  longer. 
I  must  tell  you  one  instance  of  gratitude.  They 
all  came  the  £:jd  of  December,  bringing  greens  to 
dress  the  church,  and  one  man  brought  also  a 
bag  and  in  it  eight  very  large,  beautiful  sweet  - 
potatoes— one  for  each  member  of  the  family. 
Was  it  not  pleasant  to  receive  such  a  proof  of 
gratitude? 

I  hope  this  long  letter  has  not  tired  you.  dear 
children  ami  friends:  and  with  wishes  from  all 
your  Woodside  friends  that  you  may  have  a  very 
very  happy  New-Year.I  am.  most  truly,  your  grate- 
ful friend.  Mits.  RICHARDSON. 

P.  S.— It  would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  I 
can  say  to  send  a  list  of  all  your  names,  my  dear 
friends,  but  it  would,  I  know,  take  up  too'much 
space  in  the  Post-office  Box. 


WASHINGTON,  IOWA. 

I  thought  that  I  would  write  a  letter  to  the 
Post-office  Box,  and  tell  of  a  narrow  escape. 

It  was  in  the  summer-time,  about  the  1st  of 
July,  that  I  had  my  adventure.  Father  was  a  way 
and  we  had  a  man  named  Mac  and  his  son  Frank 
a  boy  about  fourteen  years  old,  to  take  care  of 
our  horses.  A  man  who  lived  a  few  blocks  from 
us  had  a  flue  gray  colt,  but  as  he  was  not  much 
of  a  horseman,  he  said  that  we  could  have  the 
use  of  her  if  we  would  break  her.  As  I  said  be- 
fore, father  was  away,  and  I  was  very  anxious 
to  take  a  ride  on  that  gray  colt.  Mr.  Mac  would 
not  let  me  do  so,  as  she  had  only  been  ridden  once. 

So  one  tine  morning,  after'  he  had  done  the 
chores  and  gone  home.  I  went  out  to  the  barn 
and  saddled  and  bridled  her  myself,  she  went 
splendidly  for  about  two  blocks,  when  I  met 
Frank,  with  a  tin  pail  in  his  hand. 

"  Take  me  up  town,"  said  he. 

So  I  said.  "  All  right ;  come  up  to  the  fence,  and 
jump  on  behind." 


He  got  on  all  right,  but.  like  foolis-h  boys  that 
we  were,  we  hung  his  tin  [mil  on  the  horn  of  the 
saddle.  We-  got  her  on  a  nice  little  gallop;  but 
when  that  tin  pail  began  to  rattle,  she  did  some- 
thing worse  than  gallop— she  ran  like  a  streak 
straight  for  our  barn. 

Frank  hail  lost  his  hat.  and  had  his  arms  a  round 
me,  holding  on  to  the  horn  of  the  saddle  for  dear 
life,  and  shouting  "  Whoa  !"  at  every  jump. 

When  she  turned  up  the  alley  that  leads  to  the 
barn  she  turned  so  short  that"  Frank  flew  right 
out  straight,  arid  pulled  the  saddle  lit  was  not 
Imeklt •'!  very  tight*  under  her.  and  then  spun  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  But  I  clung  to  the 
saddle,  and  was  thrown  under,  and  she  jumped 
square  over  mi-.  Was  not  she  a  knowing  horse? 
She  then  ran  up  to  the  stable,  with  the  saddle 
dangling  tuider  her.  about  the  worst  seared  horse 
in  the  state  of  Iowa. 

Well,  we  managed, with  the  help  of  some  friends 
who  came  up,  to  take  the  saddle  and  bridle  off. 
I  kept  very  quiet  about  it.  but  the  story  got  out, 
and  when  father  came  home  I  had  to  take  a  lec- 
ture. E.  F. 

Which  the  Postmistress  thinks  you  deserved. 


FORT  n,vi^.  Th\  v*. 

My  home  is  in  Kentucky,  hut  I  am  spending  the 
winter  with  my  uncle  at  this  place.  Fort  Davis 
is  situated  near  the  head  of  a  beautiful  caflon 
called  Lympia.  which  means  clean,  or  clear.  Fort 
Davis  is  .ISIHI  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  There 
are  s'ix  companies  of  soldiers  stationed  here.  M«  ire 
than  hall'  of  the  inhabitants  arc  Mexicans. 

The  Mexican  women  wear  their  dresses  very 
long  behind,  and  about  a  foot  from  the  ground 
in  front,and  always  wear  shawls  over  then-heads. 
All  the  houses  are  made  of  a  dot  ics,  except  a  few 
in  the  post,  which  are  of  stone.  Fortunately 
it  rarely  rains  here  in  the  winter.  The  houses, 
being  covered  with  mud.  would  suffer  if  it  did. 
The  wood  is  generally  brought  from  the  mount- 
ains on  little  donkeys,  or  burros. 

This  is  a  great  country  for  little  ponies,  little 
donkeys,  little  dogs,  and  mice.  You  rarely  see  a 
horse  or  mule  that  does  not  belong  to  the  gov- 
ernment, and  you  never  see  a  rat  here.  My  uncle 
gave  me  a  little  pony,  which  I  ride  every  after- 
noon, and  I  say  my  lessons  to  my  grandma  every 
morning.  I  think  "  Nan"  is  so  sweet.  I  wish  ev- 
erybody a  happy  New- Year.  EMILY  A. 


N«w  YORK  Cm-. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eleven  years  old.  A  kind  gen- 
tleman has  been  sending  me  YOI-NG  PEOI>I.K  for 
over  a  year.  I  like  it  very  much,  and  was  charm 
ed  with  the  delightful  Christmas  number.  I  read 
all  the  letters,  and  like  them  very  much.  When 
I  I'll  von  about  my  pets,  you  will  think  it  atranse 
because  they  are  my  school-books.  I  will  not 
make  my  letter  too  long.  This  is  the  first  1  have 
written  to  any  paper,  and  hope  yon  will  pub- 
lish it.  WILLIAM  s.  K. 

If  you  make  pets  of  your  school-books,  I  am 
sure  they  are  always  neat  and  clean,  which  is 
more  than  I  can  say  of  some  boys'  books. 

Here  is  a  pretty  little  story  about  one  of  the 
greatest  women  and  best  Queens  in  the  world  : 

"  When  Queen  Victoria  was  yet  a  child  in  short 
trocks,  she  with  other  members  of  her  family 
spent  some  time  at  Malvern.  They  staid  at  a 
large  house  on  what,  out  of  compliment  to  her 
Majesty,  has  since  been  named  Queen's  Road. 
The  royal  child  is  spoken  of  both  as  a  romp  and 
a  rattle.  Her  two  particular  weaknesses  were 
climbing  walls  and  trees, ami  cantering  about  on 
a  donkey.  One  day  she  had  climbed  an  apple- 
tree,  ami  could  not  get  down  again,  sheremain- 
ed  I  here,  sobbing  bitterly,  until  some  time  after- 
ward Davis,  the  gardener,  attracted  to  the  spot 
by  her  cries,  got  a  ladder,  and  brought  her,  safe 
and  sound,  to  terra  forma,.  The  little  girl  was 
deeply  grateful  for  the  man's  assistance  and  im- 
mediately opened  her  purse  and  presented  him 
with  a  piece  of  gold.  Davis  is  alive  to  tell  the 
tale  to  this  day.  and  at.  the  same  time  to  exhibit 
to  the  curious  the  royal  guinea— neatly  framed— 
which  the  Queen,  when  a  wee  lassie,  gave  him  " 


AFTER  THE  HOLIDAYS. 

Little  children,  just  fancy  old  Santa  Clans  start- 
ing off  some  starlight  night  to  survey  again  the 
scenes  of  hia  late  triumphant  inarch  through  the 
beautiful  kingdom  of  child-hind 

What  do  you  think  he  will  say  when  he  finds 
(  lava  s  beautiful  doll  with  its  face  all  soiled,  and 
its  pretty  frock  fade,!  and  torn!'  Ah  see  that 
shadow  now  gathering  on  his  brow?  Think  you 
he  does  not  remember  the  bright  rosy  cheeks  and 
lovely  cardinal  silk  that  adorned  it 'when  taken 
from  the  shop  win, low.  where  it  stood  on  exhi- 
bition, the  envy  of  so  many  little  hearts?  No 
wonder  he  feels  sad. 

"Ami  can  it  be  possible,"  he  says,  "that  that 
broken-limbed  creature  is  all  that  is  left  of  the 
noble  horse  that  I  brought  little  Charley-  where 
s  flowing  inane  keen  eye.  fancy  bridle,  and 
well  fitting  saddle  that  graced  the  finest  sped 
men  of  Ins  race?" 

Alas  !  there  lie  the  almost  defaced  blocks  that 
fairly  shone  with  their  golden  letters  What  a 

a  spectacle  for  old  Santa  to  contemplate  ' 


JANTARY  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUN<jr  PEOPLE. 


191 


Toys.  little  children,  an-  Riven  you  tn  play  with. 
lmt  e-ati  vein  not  d<>  so  without  destroying  them:- 
I  \\-nnM  'not  a,h  is,-  yon  to  .io  a-  eli'l  a  little  boy 
whom  1  oner  kin-w.  His  mamma  bought  him  a 
lovely  kit,-  It  was  really  very  pretty,  will)  its 
tissue'-  covering  ami  tine  centre  picture. 

Tne  e-hild  was  >o  delighted  with  till-  gift  that 
for  safely  for  his  treasure  he  carried  it  into  tlie 
parlor,  aiid  plaeed  it  in  a  OODSpiulIOUS  place  on 
the'  mantel.  The-n  several  times  a  ilay  he  might 
he  seen  peeping  in  to  have  a  fresh  look  at  his 

kite          He    Wolllll     Hot     IK     il     lest     it    s||ollld    ge't    llfo- 

ken.  aii<l  so  his  pleasure  consisted  only  in  gazing 
at  what  was  inlended  f.ir  use. 

Play  with  your  niei-  toys,  hut  while  you  do  so, 
IN  Ten  careful  not  to  destroy  or  injure  them. 

Then-  is  no  prettier  si-lit  than  to  see  little  girls 
playing  tea 

The  most   deli, -ions  eake  1  ever  tasted  was  on 
one  of  those  wee  plates,  around  which  my  little 
and  1  were  (lathered.     What  fun  and  frolic: 
\\  en    eoinpre-se-el  in  one  little  hour  of  real  <-MJ«) 
lllent  at   II hild's  lea  par!  \ 

11.-  eareful  not  only  of  your  ehina.  DU1  ot  your 

.  -  mi-  blocks,  horses. and  whatever  ma>  have 

arrhe'd  as   mementos   of  the  bright   Christmas- 

timc-.     Do  not  fot-eet  the  little  pinched  taoea  ol 

I  In    i r.     How  glad  they  would  lie  to  own  some 

<if  your  east  away  toy.;.     .Many  a  sick  child   has 

he-e-'n  diverted  fi i  its  Buffering  by  evi  n  -i I 

doll.    Handle  toys  carefully,  and  you  will  soon  be 

intrusted  by  mamma  with  more  Valuable  i 

and  Santa  clans  will  be  pleased  to  hud  thai   \"U 

appreciate  his  gifts  \-  K-  TIIOUAS. 

\  n  ,  ,    I : ,, n. i   ,  M,  OK,  1;-.|  o-,  McitAS,  TvilOL. 

I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years  ..id  My  papa  lias 
taken  •!  or  Ne.  I'IXOIM.K  two  \ears  for  me,  and  I  like 
n  »,,.  much,  l  lii.e  "Mr  Stubbs's  Brother"  and 
"The  Talking  l.,-a\,-s"  1,,-st 

I  have  been  ovt  r  three  years  in  Europe.    We 

are  in  Mi-ran., -i  watcrine  place  Ol  \n-lria  Even 
da>  Irom  our  window  we  hear  tlie-mnsie  which 
plays  iii  the  Park. 

I  have  no  |  HI.  bill  I  had  a  k  il  I  en.  which  1  ga\  e' 
;iwa>  when  I  went  to  Prussia  last  \e-ar.  MH-  was 
very  gentle,  and  when  1  had  been  out  I  always 
found  her  waiting  for  me  on  a  chair  by  thi 

[  am  afraid  my  letter  will  not  be  printed  if  it  is 

too  lone  1-.C.MOM-   V.   F 

I  am  always  delighted  when  a  dear  reader  sends 
a  ere-i-ting  like  this  trmn  over  the  sea.  \\'e  like' 
to  see  each  ol  her  in  the  Post  otlice  lit  iX.  don't  We. 

•children ':  \\  hether  your  homes  are  tar  or  near, 
von  all  haie  >  on  r  ..wn  places  in  "i  or\c;  lY.ori.K  : 
and  I  am  sure  Mr.  Otis  and  Mr.  Stoddard  w  iil  be 
clad  that  a  little  boy  ill  the  Tyrol  has  wat.-hcd 
for  their  stories  and  read  them  w  ilh  interest. 


N,  i   YOKK  I'ITI. 

DK.MI  Demi  ASH  AMY.  tread  your  lettc-r  in  No. 
16V.  The  turtle  buries  its, -II  in  winter  under  the 
mud  of  dried  creeks  ^  .,11  can  lake  a  small  box 
lillcd  with  mild  and  put  your  turtle  in  It.  lie 
will  not  need  any  food  until  he  crawls  out.  The 
box  should  be  I, -It  out  ol  doors  I  -ness  the  rea 
son  w  h.\  he  went  under  the  rocks  and  mud  was 
because  it  is  natural.  That  is  why  so  lew  Ha- 
lle- can  be  had  ill  wilder  ALBEKT  B.  C. 


.liii  KU-..N   Cm  ,  M  i 

My  papa  has  commenced  I"  lake  Il\i:cii; 
YorM.  I'l-.oi'i.K  for  me  and  for  my  little  brother. 
I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.  and  so  m>  sister 
I, as  to  write  for  me  I  love  to  look  at  tin-  pie 
tures,  especially  the  one  about  the  cal  and  the 
fiddle  My  name  is  I'.ennie  Ion  It  W.  Isn't  that 
a  tunny  name  for  a  little  b,,\  •;  Ooeid-night. 

BENNIE. 


ToBONT...   CAVO.A. 

This  is  the  first  time  I  have  written  to  the  Posl 
office  Box.  I  like-  the  stories  in  Yen  se.  I'Eol'l.t: 
very  much,  especially  "  Nan,"  I  have  two  cats 
and  two  does,  and  we  have  also  live  birds— two 
.1,-na  sparrows  anil  three  canaries.  I  am  ten  years 
old.  but  I  will  soon  be  eleven.  I  generally  have 
a  party  on  my  birthday.  I  will  soon  have  to  lie- 
t^in  si -h oo I  au'ain.  for  we  open  on  the  llith. 

There  are  a  great  many  children's  parties  here, 
and  1  enjoy  them  very  much.  I  received  a  great 
many  Christmas  presents,  and  '-27  cards. 

J.  A.  H. 


THE  ROSE-BUD. 

I  was  once  a  little  red  ball  with  a  green  stem. 

Then  1  was  planted  by  some  fingers,  and  I  came 
up. 

The  next  year  I  had  a  bud, and  that  opened  into 
a  pretty  rose.  Every  night  I  was  kissed  by  the 
dew.  until  I  was  plucked  by  a  little  maiden  from 
the  bush. 

Then  I  was  put  in  a  pretty  vase  with  some  fresh 
cool  water  in  it. 

In  a  few  days  I  withered,  and  they  threw  me  in 
the  tire  MALVINA  O.  K.  l',l  years  of  age). 

WOODSIDE,  NuliTH  CAKIILINA. 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.  and  have  three 
sisters  1  have  never  written  to  you  before.  I 
have,  a  bauk,  and  all  the  money  I  get  1  put  into  it. 


I  have  a  pet  dog  named  Spot.  We  sent  him  to 
the  country  to  -et  fat.  1  miss  him  very  much. 
All  my  sisters  eo  to  school,  and  I  am  very  lone- 
some. 1  am  afraid  my  letter  is  too  long  ;  so  good- 
by.  AM. i  s  \\  P. 

Spot  seems  to  be  a  favorite  name  for  pets  this 
week. 


PORT  AISTIN,  MICHIGAN. 

1  have  read  the  letter  of  L,  MeX,  in  your  issue 

of    December     M.     1    am    a    reader    of    lUi:>-n;'s 

Yot  M.  I'KOIM.K.  and  tike  it  very  much,  especially 

the  p.isi  iittiee  liox.  1  am  deal  and  dumb.  It 
\\.is  caused  by  a  tall  when  I  was  two  years  old. 
1  am  fourteen  \  ears  old  now.  I  eo  l.  -  i  ii.  Mai,- 
School  at  Flint.  Michiean.  Then-  are  about  two 
hundred  ami  idly  boys  and  girls  ;,tiendine  it. 
are  as  happy  as  any  other  children  We 
learn  lo  wrile  and  read,  and  have  arithmetic, 

phy,  and  som her  studil  -       Some  ol  us 

an-    i.eini:   taught    articulation,  so   that    w    can 

speak       our   n  -.hie    Male    has   I M-I-J    eood  to 

US.      I  ha\e  been  spending  lln-  l,ollda\s  at  home. 

Wishing  I..  Mc.v  and  ail  jour  readers  a  happy 
New  K  ear,  I  am  yours,  GEIITIE  !•'. c. 

Gertie's  letter  made  n-..  liankfnl  that 

one  shul  on!  Irom  the  pleasures  o!  hearini,'  and 
of  speei  h  ...nld  I.,  so  happy  and  contented.  1 
am  glad  to  think  that  those  silent  children  art- 
full  of  enjoyment,  just  like  others. 


Little   In -Us,  1..  .   p.  1-    mllst    know  how  to   sew-  as 

j  to  cook.      I. el  me  tell  them  how  to  darn 

their  Si If         In  darn  me  VMI  mi. si  work  long 

way  across  the  hole.  Then  begin  side- 
ways, and  take  Up  every  other  one  of  these  long 
stitches,  so  that  a  soil  line  ,i<  lied  w-.rk  tills  the 
h-.l,  I  >.,  not  draw  >  our  si  itches  I  iirhll) .  or  try 

tomake  the  hole  mailer,  oryou  will  have  a  rough 
i  ,.i  a  smooth  surface  w  hen  >ou  have  nn- 
-,"Ui-  work.  

l,-|  ,  l  UTS  leu;  TIM-:  I.ITTI.F  Ilol  SE 
KEEPERS. 

.Ii  MIII.KS.     Two  cups  ,.|  suear.  three  cegs  beat 
en  separately,  one  cup  ot    lunli  r,  and  just  Hour 
enough   to  roll   il    out       Mix  qnie-kU,  and    roll   it 
thin,    cm  out  the  cakes  with  a  round  cake-cut 
ter,  e  n  l  ting  them   aeain   m    the   centre   w  nn    the 
top  .-i   .1  .  ruel       U  hen  m  the  pans,  »,  t    the  lops 
with  tin    white  ol  cues  sligtnly  beati-n,  using  a 
i  I  or  the  purpose.    sprinkle  them  w  it  h  M-ry 
.  oarse  p<  .w  .len-.l  lump  su::ar.  and  bake. 

I'l    VI-,    I    vlt.-        One    Clip    of    butter,    two    clips 

of  sugar,  one  cup  of  milk,  two  eggs,  a  scant  quail 

,,|  Hour,  .me  tea  -poonlnl  ol  ere.ini  ..I  lailar,  and 
halt  atca  .spooninioi  .so.ia    Bake  in  a  quick  o  veil. 


THOMAS  p  There  is  no  charge'  for  the  publica- 
tion of  an  exchange,  postmarks  should  be  cut 
square,  with  a  snflicicnt  margin  lo  allow  ol  their 
be- ing  lie-ally  pasted  in  an  album  .1  I!.  Ii  .  :  U  c 

do  not  repeat  exchanges  In  the  paper  during  sev- 
eral weeks.  \Ve  caii  allow  but  one  insertion  for 
each  c\changi',as  there  are  alwa\  s  a  er.-at  many 

a  wait  in  up  their  turn ;  but  in  a  few  weeks  from  now 

you  may,  it  you  choose,  send  another  and  elitTe-r- 
enl  Offer.  HM:KI  Met:.:  Address  the  linn  of 
whom  you  inquire',  at  I  nion  sepiar,-,  corner  of 
Seventee  m  h  -tre-e-t.  -NVw  York  e-ity. 


Srsii;  Me  DtinteiTT,  a  dear  child  in  oro\  ill,-,  Cali- 
fornia, has  betn  lakenaway  l>y  death,  lle-r  little 
brother  Aiti.-  now  takes  loi  N,.  Pi. on. i.  in  her 
place.  Susie  was  a  little  girl  of  rare  loveliness 
of  character,  and  he-r  loss  has  made  a  sad  vacan- 
cy in  he-r  home.  

MINNIE  R.— If  you  are  only  nine  years  old,  you 
may  play  with  your  dolls  without  a  thought  that 
you  are  too  big  fe>r  such  an  amusement.  Why, 
dear,  I  like  dolls  yet :  Coasting  and  snow-balling 
are  just  as  proper  fur  girls  as  lor  boys,  in  moder- 
ation.   

lIoi-K,  BIRDIE,  and  MAUD  B.  are  three  hap- 
py sisters,  who  build  houses  of  pine  brush  in 
the  woods,  and  play  at  keeping  store.  When  I 
was  a  little  girl  I  went  to  a  school  in  the  shadow 
ot  a  grove,  and  at  recess  Letty  and  Lucy,  Rob, 
Charlie,  and  Bella,  and  ever  so  many  of  us,  used 
to  play  store  and  keep  house  under  the  trees. 
There  was  a  great  flat  rock,  which  was  our  din- 
ing-room. We  used  to  have  oak-leaf  plates  and 
acorn  cups  to  play  with,  so  I  know  all  about  your 
good  times,  Hope.  

The  boys  and  girls  who  are  interested  in  mak- 
ing colled iems  ot  postage  stamps  are  invited  to 
read  this  paragraph  with  attention  : 

By  application  to  the  Third  Assistant  Postmas. 
ter-Geueral,  Washington,  District  of  Columbia, 


you  may  obtain  specimens  of  the  several  varie- 
ties of  United  Stales  postage  at  the-ir  face-  value'. 
In  sending  your  application  you  must  inch's,  i  he 
full  amount  necessary  to  pa\  for  ihe'  stamps  yon 
eh'sire.  and  also  a  sufficient  amount  for  return 
postage  and  registry  fee.  as  the  Depaitmcnt  will 
send  the  stamps  in  a  registered  letter. 

Some  of  the  issues  are  imw  obsolete,  and  pos- 
sess a  historical  value  to  the-  c,  11,  ctor.  Newspa- 
per, official,  and  periodical  stamps  of  the  elifler- 
e-nl  dene, munitions  will  be  tnrnislied  in  sets,  ofti- 
eial  stamps  can  be-  used  only  te>r  the'  official  busi- 
ness of  the-  department  for  which  tln-y  an-  pro 
vieleel.  They  will  have  the  word  "  speciin, -n" 
print, -el  ae-ros.s  the  tae-e-  ill  veTV  small  I  \  pe. 

Those  who  desire  further  information  as  le, 
prices,  stamps,  and  elates  e.l  issue-  she.uld  write 
to  the'  Third  Assistant  IVstmastcr  i.incral  at 
\\ashingtoti.  inclosing  a  stamped  envelope'  ael- 
dressed  plainly  to  thenis,-l\,-s  The-y  will,  in  iv- 
turu.  receive  a  circular  giving  many  details,  for 
which  we  can  nut  make  room  ill  the  Post-office 
Box. 


ITZ/.I.KS  Fi;oM  YoUNe.  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

TWO    M   MKKIeAl.    KNIe.THAs 

I.  I  contain  s  let  I  e-rs,  am!  am  a  e-it  v  e,f  the  L'nitcd 
, 

M\   1.  1  is  a  pronoun. 
My  H,  .">.  t.:j  is  m,  rrime-llt. 

M>  -.'.  i1,,  ,  I-  a  Hebrew   liquid  me-asuri- 

GAZETTA. 

s1    I  am  compos, -,|  ot  13  letters,  and  am  the  name 

e.l    a    e'e   lebr.llell   composer. 

\l\   l.  .'    ;    I.  ',.  11  is  a  country. 
1  i.  10,  l  J  3  is  an  animal. 
My  ii.  s.  '.i.  1:1  i-  closi  ei 
M>   I,  -.'  :;.  6,  -s  i-  hasty. 
\l>  s.  ;i.  i.  m  is  t,,  pursue-  MAUIU 


N.I   •.' 

us-,  \vonn  s.ji  IKK  -  i  Tn  7»/'\'/>. 
I.  A  de  feet.    '..'.  Melted  rock.     :j.  Te,  affirm.    4. 
Cautious.  GAZETTA. 


1C  N  I  ci  M  A. 

In  wine-,  not  in  beer. 

In  l  mi,-,  not  in  year. 
In  lo\  i-,  met  in  marriage'. 
In  girl,  neit  in  carriage- 
Ill  ink,  ne, I  in  pen. 
In  haw  k.  not  in  hen. 
In  man.  not  in  \\  rejn. 
M  \   \\  hoi,-.  .  .IH-I-  royal, 
Kid,  el  Fnglaml  loyal. 

WILLIE  B.  W. 


i>u.  ^. 
TU'e)   IHA>li>M'S. 

1.— 1.  A  1,-tier      -.'    Part  ol  the-  body.     3.  A  writ- 
ing mate-rial.    4.  A  e-olor.    B.  A  letter 

J.— 1.  A  letter.     '.',  A  cry      :).  Sotne'thillg  sweet. 
4.  A  girl's  name.     .">.  A  Iclte-r. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  100. 
No.  I.  Heilly.    Cedar. 

No. 2.  King-dove. 

No.  3.    1.  A-lien.  J-ingle.   Trope.    l)-raft.    Flea. 
D-un.    B-ell.     I'lai-e-.     P-riele.     S-quire. 
c-hair.    B-lithe.     P-air.    E-lope. 
3.  Ban-d.    Tim-e.    C'orne-t.    Be-e.     Sin-k. 
Tiu-t.    Hop-e. 


No.  4. 


No.  5. 


I 

1    N  K 
N  D    I    A 

K    I    N 
A 


L 

1)  O  E 
LOCAL 

E    A  T 
L 


Y~o  S.-mitc  Valley. 
Yeast.    Mole.    Vise.    Lye. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 


i  Kav' Hutchinson,  Oracle,  Annie.  Mabel,  and 
Florence  Knight,  Anna  L.  M.,  Caroline  J.  Lyman, 
Amelia  E.  M.,  Fannie  D.  M.,  Frank  and  Charles 
M  Lewis.  Fred  Race,  Jimmy  Dunn,  Itosa  Fan-ley, 
Maggie  Price-.  Sarah  and  Annie.  Maud  Edgar, 
William  Bostwick.  Alice  Ames,  Jack  butler, 
Theodeirc  Fay,  Elsie  Van  Wyck,  Hal  Woodruff, 
William  Pitt  Anderson,  and  Joseph  P.  Bolton. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  payes  of  cover.] 


192 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIG.  1. 


You  may  not  see  the  fun  in  this.    Ha !  that  just  shows  that  you 
don't  know  what  fun  is. 


MORE  STRING  TRICKS. 

BY   HELEN   P.  STRONG. 

SLIP  the  string,  with  the  ends  tied  together,  over  the  post  of  a 
chair,  passing  the  right-hand  string  a  second  time  around  the 

post  to  make  your  prisoner 
doubly  secure :  then  with  the 
forefinger  of  the  right  hand 
slipped  upward  through  the 
opposite  loop,  hold  tin-  mid- 
dle of  the  string  with  tin- 
left  hand,  as  indicated  in 
Fig.  1,  passing  the  thumb 
under  the  iirst  and  over  the 
second  string,  and  the  forefinger  over  the  first  and  under  the 
second. 

Holding  both  strings  firmly  in  this  position  with  the  left  hand, 
carry  the  loop  held  on  your  right  forefinger  over  the  left  hand, 
and  lay  it,  loosely  spread  apart,  upon  the  double  string  in  such 
a  way  that,  having  released  your  right  hand  from  above,  you 
may  grasp  the  same  loop  from  below,  as  shown  iu  i'ig.  '2,  by  pass- 
ing  a   finger   through    it    oil 
each  side  of  the  double  string. 
Observe  carefully  the  posi- 
tion of  the  strings  upon  the 
left  forefinger  iu  Fig.  2,  and 
be  sure  that  the  string  which 
before      passed     under     the 
thumb  now  drops  below  the 
forefinger.     Now  transfer  the 
two  loops  from  the  left  fore- 
linger  to  the  chair  post,  turn-  FIG.  2. 
ing  the  band  so  that  the  lin- 
ger points  toward  you,  in  order  that  the  loop  nearer  the  base  of 
the  finger  may  pass  first  over  the  chair  post,  as  shown  at  a.  Fig.  2. 
Filially,  covering  the  top  of  the  post  with  your  lel'l  thumb,  re- 
lease your  bold  of  the  string,  except  from  the  middle  linger  of 
your  right  hand.     By  this  finger  the  whole  string  may  be  drawn 
freely  out  of  its  apparent  tangle,  and,  if  done  quickly,  with  the 
eft'ect  of  having  passed  through  the  solid  wood. 

•A  more  simple  trick,  not  unlike  this  in  effect,  is  performed  as 
follows  :  Pass  the  string  over  the  chair  as  before,  without  wind- 
ing it  a  second  tune  about  the  post.  Follow  the  directions  for 


FIG.  3. 


the  previous  trick  as  far  as  Fig.  1.  Then  place  the  right  fore- 
finger, with  the  string  still  upon  it.  firmly  on  the  top  of  the  chair 
post,  and  releasing  the  string  from  the  thumb  of  the  left  hand, 
use  the-  forefinger  of  that  hand  to  pull  the  string  from  the  post. 

In  the  two  tricks  which 
follow,  not  one  finger,  hut 
four,  seem  susceptible  to  the 
free  passage  of  your  wonder- 
ful string.  Thrusting  all  the 
fingers  of  each  hand  through 
an  opposite  end  of  the  string 
still  tied,  use  the  right  hand 
in  bring  the  two  sides  com- 
ing from  the  palm  of  the  left  hand  hack  between  the  fingers  and 
anuuid  the  thumb,  precisely  as  indicated  in  Fig. :!.  Then  lifting 
the  right  hand,  allow  the  lower  string  to  pass  again  around  the 
little  finger,  this  time  from  left  to  right,  and  the  upper  string 
around  the  index  finger  from  right  to  left,  thus  bringing  the 
loop  once  more  toward  the  palm,  place  it  between  the  two  middle 
lingers,  letting  it  hang  as  iu  Fig.  4.  With  the  thumb  and  fore- 
finger of  the  right  hand  remove  the  two  loops 
from  the  thumb,  and  pass  these  also  between 
the  middle  fingers.  Lastly,  with  the  fore- 
finger of  the  right  hand  passed  under  the 
string  at  a,  you  may  release  it  entirely  by 
drawing  it  toward  you. 

In  the  next  trick  you  shall  begin  by  what 
seems  a  thorough  interweaving  of  string  and 
fingers.  With  the  left  hand  in  the  position 
of  Fig.5, begin  at  the  little  finger  and  weave 
the  cord  iu  and  out  between 
the  fingers  in  the  manner 
shown  at  «,  until  yon  come  to 
the  thumb,  when,  after  cross- 
ing the  strings,  you  pass  them 
both  outside  of  the  thumb, 
and  then  (without  crossing) 


FIG.  4. 


over  the  forefinger  as  in  Fig. 
5,  which  represents  the  trick 
thus  far  clearly. 

Continue  to  cross  the  strings 
between  the  fingers  as  shown 
at  b.  Fig.  .">.  returning  iu  this 
way  to  the  little  finger.  Your  FIG.  5. 

hand    will    now    seem    quite 

surely  tied  fast — ail  illusion  which  you  speedily  dispel  by  slip- 
ping I  he,  loops  from  your  thumb,  and  with  your  right  hand  draw- 
ing the  string,  whole  as  ever,  directly  through  the  base  of  all  your 
fingers. 


ANSWER  TO  REBUS. 

THE  answer  to  the  Rebus  on  page  144  of  No.  166  is  a  Christ- 
mas verse  written  over  two  hundred  years  ago  by  George 
Wither,  born  1588,  died  1667. 

So  now  is  come  our  joyful'st  feast. 

Let  every  man  be  jolly ; 
Each  room  with  ivy  leaves  is  drest, 

And  every  post  with  holly. 
Now  all  our  neighbors'  chimneys  smoke, 

And  Christinas  blocks  are  burning ; 
Their  ovens  they  with  baked  meat  choke, 

And  all  their  spits  are  turning. 
Without,  the  door  let  sorrow  lie ; 
And  if  for  cold  it  hap  to  die, 
We'll  bury  't  in  a  Christmas  pie, 

And  evermore  be  merry. 


FUN  ON  THE  ICE— BLINDHAN'S-BUFF. 


FRED'S  NIGHTMARE  AFTER  A  DAY'S  BABBIT-HUNTING. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


rv.-  NO.  ITU. 


PUBLISHED  BT    IIAIM'KR  A:    \\\K  >TII  KKS.  X,:\v  V.M:K. 


PEICE    Fn"E    CENTS. 


Tuesday.  January  30, 1883. 


t,  1^?;,  by  HAHFEE  Jc  BRUTHKES. 


$1.50  per  Year,  iu  Advance. 


"YOU    CAN'T    COME   IN,  JACK    FROST."— DKAVN  BY  H.  P.  WALCOTT. 


19-t 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BABY. 

BY  EMILY  HUNTINGTON  MILLER. 

Now  what  shall  we  do  for  the  baby, 

To  make  her  a  birthday  sweet  V 
She  came  in  the  wintry  weather, 

In  blustering  wind  and  sleet. 
There  is  not  a  flower  in  the  garden, 

There  is  not  a  bird  to  sing. 
Ami  all  in  a  row  on  the  leafless  vine 

The  sharp  white  icicles  cling. 

Oh,  what  does  it  matter  to  baby! 

Her  world  is  warm  as  a  nest; 
The  song  that  her  mother  sings  her 

Is  the  music  she  loves  best. 
She  laughs  to  hear  in  the  twilight 

The  bleak  winds  whistle  and  blow. 
And  the  small  white  icicles  swing  and  ring 

Like  crystal  bells  in  a  row. 


THE  FORT  ON  ABBOTT'S  HILL. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS, 
AUTHOR  OF  " TOBY  TYLER,"  "  TIM  AND  Tir,"  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER," ETC. 

"PPHERE  won't  be  any  school  to-morrow,  you  know, 
J_    an'  we'll  have  all  day  to  work  at  it.     We  can  com- 
mence right  after   breakfast,  an'  by  the  time  the  Dean 
boys  know  what  we're  about,  it  '11  be  all  done." 
"But  where'll  we  build  it  :" 

"On  the  top  of  Abbott's  Hill,  by  the  school -house.  You 
see  that's  the  best  kind  of  a  place  for  a  fort,  'cause  then 
when  the  boys  come  to  take  it,  they'll  have  to  come  up  the 
hill,  an'  we  can  pop  'em  off  as  easy  as  anything-.  Here's 
the  way  we'll  build  it,"  and  Billy  Chick  marked  out  on 
the  snow  a  very  elaborate  plan  of  the  fort  he  proposed  to 
build  on  Abbott's  Hill. 

' '  But  if  the  Dean  boys  an'  Art  Pierce  see  what  we're 
iloin',  they'll  try  to  stop  us,"  said  Tommy  Eaton,  timidly; 
for  he  knew,  as  well  as  did  all  the  boys  in  Bucksport,  that 
the  three  boys  he  had  spoken  of  had  openly  declared  that 
110  one  but  themselves  should  have  a  snow  fort  that  win- 
ter. These  three  had  announced  their  intention  early  in 
the  season  of  building  the  biggest  snow  fort  that  had  ever 
been  seen  in  that  section  of  the  country;  and  in  order 
that  they  might  not  by  any  possibility  be  outdone,  they 
had  threatened  instant  destruction  to  any  other  that 
should  be  put  up.  But  it  was  already  the.  latter  part  of 
January,  and  yet  this  proposed  monster  fort  had  not  been 
seen.  Therefore  after  school  on  Friday  night  Billy  Chick 
had  proposed  to  a  number  of  his  companions  that  they 
should  defy  these  other  boys,  and  by  working  as  secretly 
as  possible  build  their  fort  before  the  others  knew  what 
they  were  doing. 

"I  don't  care  whether  they  know  it  or  not,"  and  Billy 
spoke  bravely,  even  if  he  did  beckon  his  companions  to 
follow  him  behind  the  school-house  wood-shed  a  moment 
later,  when  he  thought  he  saw  Arthur  Pierce  coming  up 
the  street.  "We've  got  just  as  good  a  right  to  build  a 
fort  as  they  have,  an'  if  we've  got  any  spunk  about  us  at 
all.  we  can  keep  'em  from  troublin'  us  till  after.it's  built, 
an'  then  I  guess  we  can  hold  it  against  a  hundred  just 
like  'cii' 

"If  we  can't  do  it  we  ain't  smart,"  said  Fred  Bolen, 
decidedly,  as  he  made  a  snow-ball  and  threw  it  at  a  knot- 
hole in  the  shed  to  show  how  good  a  marksman  he  was. 
"They  don't  own  this  town,  but  they  think  they  can 
frighten  us  outer  tryiii'  to  do  anything.  Now  I'll  get 
up  as  soon  as  it's  daylight  to-morrow,  if  the  rest  will,  an' 
I'll  bring  my  dinner  with  me,  an'  we  can  have  it  all  done 
by  noon." 

The  remainder  of  the  party  agreed  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  warlike  Fred,  and  the  question  of  whether  or 
not  the  fort  should  be  built  having  been  decided,  the  de- 
tails of  the  work  were  discussed.  Each  member  of  the 
party  was  to  be  on  Abbott's  Hill  as  soon  after  daylight  as 
possible;  three  were  to  bring-  snow-shovels,  and  the  others 


were  to  bring  pails  of  water,  for  Billy  had  decided  that 
the  fort  should  be  well  washed,  both  outside  and  inside, 
after  it  was  completed,  in  order  that  the  blocks  of  snow 
should  be  well  cemented  and  coated  with  ice. 

Now  talking  about  getting  up  very  early  on  a  winter 
morning,  and  actually  doing  it,  are  two  very  different 
things;  but  yet  every  boy  who  was  to  take  part  in  the 
building  of  the  fort  on  Abbott's  Hill  was  at  the  rendezvous 
I iv  seven  o'clock,  and  each  had  brought  that  which  it  had 
been  agreed  he  should  bring. 

Billy  not  only  had  a  snow-shovel  with  him.  but  he  also 
had  a  broom,  with  which  the  water  could  be  laid  over  the 
snow  to  form  the  armor  of  ice,  and  his  dinner,  which  he 
carried  in  his  father's  satchel,  was  quite  enough  for  three 
boys.  All  were  bent  on  work,  and  if  their  fort  could 
have  been  as  strong  as  their  resolutions  were,  nothing  but 
the  sun  could  have  destroyed  it. 

A  spot  011  the  brow  of  the  hill  had  been  selected  as 
the  place  where  the  fort  should  be  built,  according  to  Bil- 
ly's plan,  as  announced  the  night  before,  and  when  the 
party  were  there  it  surely  seemed  as  if  they  might  build 
such  a  defense  of  snow  as  would  resist  almost  any  ordi- 
nary attack.  Abbott's  Hill  was  steep,  and  if  the  enemy 
should  approach  from  the  front,  as  it  seemed  only  reason- 
able they  would  do,  the  defenders  would  have  the  advan- 
tage of  shooting  down-hill,  while  the  attacking  party 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  aim  correctly  when  tin-owing 
their  shot  up  a  steep  incline. 

But  Captain  Billy  forgot  one  ver\  important  thing. 
The  school-house  stood  just  behind  the  fort,  and  the  solid 
stone  steps  formed  a  vantage  ground  whence  an  enemy 
might  open  a  galling  fire  upon  the  garrison.  The  idea 
that  this  situation  might  be  taken  advantage  of  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him,  and  it  was  just  this  particular  lack  of  fore- 
sight that  worked  the  ruin  of  himself  and  his  army. 

The  snow  was  nearly  three  feet  deep  on  the  hill  at  the 
spot  selected  for  Fort  Defiance,  as  Billy  had  proposed  call- 
ing it,  and  after  a  hollow  ten  feet  square  had  been  made 
there  was  already  so  much  shelter  in  it  that  Captain  Billy 
and  his  party  felt  certain  of  success  in  their  undertaking. 
"  Why.  them  fellers  never  can  git  up  here,"  he  said,  as 
he  cut  out  big  blocks  of  snow  which  the  sun  was  begin- 
ning to  soften  sufficiently  to  make  them  hold  well  to  each 
other.  "It  won't  be  long  now  before  we  have  the  walls 
up,  an'  after  our  snow-balls  are  made,  as  many  as  wants 
to  can  try  to  tear  it  down,  an'  they'll  find  it  hard  work 
even  to  get  up  to  it." 

The  snow  was  sufficiently  moist  to  cut  well;  but  the 
sun  was  so  warm  that  the  plan  of  coating  the  fortifica- 
tion with  ice  by  drenching  it  with  water  seemed  well- 
iiigh  hopeless,  for  there  was  110  chance  that  it  would 
freeze. 

Every  boy  worked  with  a  will,  knowing  how  necessary 
it  was  to  have  the  building  well  along  before  the  enemy 
should  discover  what  they  were  doing,  and  the  walls  of 
the  main  structure,  were  fully  twofeetabove  the  surround- 
ing snow,  when  Tommy  Eaton  cried  out,  excitedly: 

"There  they  are !  There's  a  whole  crowd  of  'em  comiii' 
now !" 

Captain  Billy  leaped  on  to  the  parapet  of  snow,  while 
all  his  soldiers,  save  Tommy,  who  seemed  incapable  of  ac- 
tion, began  to  prepare  a  quantity  of  snow-balls  for  imme- 
diate use.  It  was  some  moments  before  any  of  the"  crowd" 
Tommy  had  spoken  of  could  be  seen,  and  then  they  had 
dwindled  down  into  a  very  small  crowd  indeed,  for  there 
was  no  one  iu  sight  but  Art  Pierce.  Even  he  had  not 
come  there  on  any  warlike  mission,  for  he  was  drawing 
on  his  sled  a  basket  which  he  was  evidently  taking  to  his 
grandfather's,  and  he  might  have  passed  by  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  ignorant  of  what  Billy's  army  were' doing,  had  not 
Tommy's  cry  of  alarm  attracted  his  attention. 

"Come  out  here  an'  look  at  your  crowd,"  cried  Captain 
Billy,  as  he  brandished  his  arms  as  if  he  were  about  to  lire 


JAXI'AUY  :;»,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


195 


a  shot  at  the  solitary  enemy,  even  though  he  knew  he 
could  not  send  a  snow-ball  half  the  distance. 

But  Tommy  was  spared  the  trouble  of  replying1,  for  al- 
moM  licfcirc  Fred  ceased  speaking  the  boy  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  shouted  : 

"  \Vli:it  are  you  fellers  doin'up  there  |" 

"Come  up  an'  see  when  you  think  yon  can  get  here," 
answered  Billy  from  the  wall;  and  his  army  set  up  such  a 
warlike  shout  that  there  could  he  no  douht  as  to  their  ill- 
lenlions  in  case  Art  should  attempt  to  come  up. 

"  Are  \  on  1)11  i  Id  in'  a  fort  after  \\  e  told  \  on  what  we  was 
{join'  to  do  I"  and  the  errand  1o  his  grandfather's  was  for- 
gotten for  the  time  being-  by  Arthur,  as  the  fact  that  these 
bo\s  \\ere  disoln \  ing  the  command  of  liimself  and  liis 
friends  dawned  upon  him. 

"Looks  like  it,  don't  it.'"  replied  Captain  Billy;  and 
then,  in  a  lower  tone,  lie  ordered  his  troop  to  make  up  a 
quantity  of  snow-balls,  in  casethe\  -hould  be  attacked  by 
this  one  boy. 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  be  doing-  it  long-  if  1  didn't  have 
to  1:0  up  1"  grandfather's  with  this  molasses."  shouted 
Arthur,  as  he  sent  a  snou  ball  half  way  up  the  hill  as  a 
token  of  what  he  would  do  if  he  could.  "But  you  jest 
wait ,  an'  see  how  long  that  tiling  will  stand." 

"All  right;  we'll  wait."  shouted  Fred,  tauntingly  :  and 
Arthur  started  away  at  full  speed,  not  hecaiiM-  he  was 
afraid  he  might  be  attacked,  but  that  lie  miirlit  do  his  er- 
rand quickly,  and  then  rally  his  forces  for  a  ball  le 

"They'll  all  be  here  pretty  soon  mm. "said  ('aptaiu 
Billy,  as  he  leaped  from  the  wall,  and  began  to  labor'  at  lift- 
ing the  heavy  blocks  of  snow  that  had  been  cut  out  read\ 
to  form  the  defense.  "  \Ye  must  rush  things  along  jest  as 
fast  as  we  can.  an'  while  we're  biiildin'  tire  fort  Tommy 
had  better'  be  inakin'  up  a  lot  of  snow  balls,  for  while  lie's 
dointr  that  he  can  be  behind  the  wall  if  the  other  fellers 
should  come." 

Tommy  could  make  no  reply  to  this  rather  ungenerous 
remark,  for  he  knew  he  deserved  it  :  but  he  obeyed  the 
order  at  once,  hoping  by  his  activity  to  atone  for  his  lack 
of  courage. 

"It  won't  take  him  more'n  live  minutes  to  go  to  his 
grandfather's,  and  then  he'll  be  up  hen-  \\ith  the  other 
fellers,"  said  Fred.  "We  sha'n't  have  any  chance  to 
cover-  the  fort  with  ice,  for  they'll  get  here  before  we  have 
it  d ." 

"Work  last,  an'  make  it  as  high  as  we  can  before  they 
do  come. "shouted  Captain  Hilly,  and  he  set  t  he  example 
to  his  soldiers  by  working  as  he  had  never  worked  before. 
even  when  he  had  tried  to  dam  (iraiil's  Brook  the  year 
before,  and  nearly  flooded  the  clover  Held. 

It  was  really  astonishing  how  rapiilh  I  he  walls  of  Fort 
Defiance  rose  after  Arthur  I'n-ive  had  made  his  appear- 
ance; inch  after  inch  was  added  to  the  struct  lire,  until  it 
was  nearly  as  high  as  the  boys'  heads,  and  Billy  had  dashed 
water  oil  now  and  then,  although  the  sun  shone  so  warm- 
ly that  it  did  not  freeze,  as  had  been  expected. 

Tommy  had  made  a  large  pile  of  snow-balls,  and  was 
bringing  more  material  into  the  fort,  when  a  cry  from 
Captain  Billy  caused  him  to  drop  the  shovel,  and  shelter 
himself  as  before. 

The  Captain  had  caught  sight  of  a  party  of  hoys  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  surveying  the  fortification  that  had  been 
erected  against  their  express  commands. 

"Here  they  are!  Everybody  get  inside,  an'  pepper  the 
first  one  that  starts  to  come  up. " 

"Now  I  wonder  if  them  fellers  are  foolish  enough  to 
think  they  can  come  up  here,  an'  tear  down  this  fort  with 
us  in  it  ?"  and  Fred  mounted  to  the  Captain's  lookout  as 
he  surveyed  the  motionless  enemy. 

"I  guess  they'll  try  it,  an'  we'd  better  all  be  makiii' 
snow-balls  while  one  watches,"  said  Captain  Billy;  and 
leaving  Fred  to  act  as  lookout,  he  set  the  example  to  his 
men.  moulding  the  snow  rapidly  and  deftly  into  smooth 


round  shot,  which,  it  was  hoped,  would  do  much  execu- 
tion. 

In  a  few  moments  the  attacking  party  sent  a  few  shots 
through  the  air.  which  were  answered  by  a  volley  from 
the  fort.  There  was  a  lively  rain  of  snow-balls  on  all 
sides.  Then,  suddenly.  Art  Pierce  and  his  party  ceased 
fire,  and  Fred,  who  kept  his  companions  aware  of  what 
the  enemy  wen-  doiny-  by  announcing  each  move  they 
made,  called  out:  "They're  lookin'  up  here  an'  talkin' 
now.  I  guess  they're  getting'  ready  for  a  rush.  Now 
Art  Pierce  is  pointin'  down  toward  the  village,  an'  now 

well,  they've  gone,  actually  runnin'  away;"  and  Fred 
jumped  outside  the  fort  with  a  cry  of  triumph,  as  if  he 
believed  the  battle  had  been  won  even  before'  it  had  been 

~  "  * 

But  Captain  Billy,  even  though  he  saw  the  enemy  ap- 
parently in  full  flight,  knew  that  they  had  not  abandoned 
the  attack,  and  he  encouraged  his  soldiers  to  work  oil 
quite  as  hard  as  ever,  preparing  for  the  defense. 

"They've  only  gone  after  some  more  of  the  box's,"  lie 
said,  as  he  began  lo  work  again  at  the  walls.  "This  thing- 
looms  up  kinder  big  to  'em  when  they  come  to  look  it  all 
over,  an'  it  didn't  take  "cm  long  to  find  out  that  there 
wasn't  enough  of  'em  to  do  any  good." 

The  walls  were  added  to  until  they  were  higher  than 
the  defenders'  heads,  and  platforms  of  snow  were  built  for 

.  the  soldiers  to  stand  on  when  tiring;  the  front  was  strength- 
ened on  the  outside  at  the  base  to  resist  any  assault  thai, 
might  be  made,  and  the  stock  of  snow-balls  was  increased, 
until  it  surely  seemed  thai  they  had  sufficient  tolas!  them 
during  a  very  long  siege. 

Captain  Billy  did  not  neglect  any  precaution  which 
might  make  their  chances  of  a  successful  resistance  any 
belter-,  so  far  as  the  fort  was  concerned;  but,  his  qualities 
as  a  commanding  officer  might  uell  have  been  questioned, 
because  he  never  gave  a  thought  to  any  attack  save  on  tin- 
front.  All  his  work,  after  the  enemy  had  been  seen,  was 
directed  to  strengthening  the  front  wall,  and  that  portion 

of  the  fort  which  would  I x posed  to  a  fire  from  behind 

had  been  quite  neglected.  The  rear  towered  up  quite  as 
high  as  did  the  front  ;  but  no  pains  had  been  taken  to 
strengthen  it,  and  if  was  hardl\  more  than  a  high  wall  of 
snow  that  might  be  toppled  over-  very  easily. 

When  the  enemy  moved  oil'  in  the  direction  of  the  vil- 
lage every  one  In  For!  Defiance  expected  they  would  re- 
turn with  re  enforcements  in  a  few  moments;  but  after 
nearly  an  hour  had  elapsed,  and  no  signs  of  them  were 
to  be  seen,  Captain  Billy  grew  very  uneasy.  He  feared 
a  snare  of  some  sort  was  being  prepared  for  .himself  and 
his  brave  troops;  but  yet  he  did  not  have  sufficient  fore- 
thought to  send  out  skirmisher's.  He  thought  that  he 
was  doing  all  that  prudence  demanded  by  keeping  a  watch 
and  piling  up  vast  supplies  of  ammunition. 

"  Now  we'll  stay  right  here  till  they  come,"  he  said  in 
a  tone  of  satisfaction.  "  an'  when  they  get  pretty  close  up 
we'll  pelt  the  snow-balls  right  into  them  until  they'll  be 
glad  to  go  back."  and  Billy  paced  back  and  forth  in  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  fort,  feeling  every  inch  a  soldier  and 
an  officer. 

How  different  would  have  been  the  fate  of  Fort  De- 
fiance if  scouts  had  been  sent  out  to  watch  the  enemy.  It 
would  have  been  only  necessary  for  Captain  Billy  or  one 
of  his  men  to  take  a  short  trip  toward  the  back  of  the 
school-house,  and  then  the  delay  of  the  enemy  in  making 
an  appearance  would  have  been  fully  understood. 

Instead  of  going  to  the  village  for  recruits  as  had  been 
supposed,  the  enemy  had  simply  gone  around  behind  that 
building  to  hold  a  consultation. 

Their  plans  were  quickly  laid.  It  would  be  necessary 
to  divide  the  party  into  two  detachments.  The  first  would 
arm  themselves  with  ammunition,  and  crawling  round  the 
corner  of  the  school-house,  mount  the  steps,  and  from  the 
vantage  ground  thus  obtained  pour  a  most  confusing  fire 


196 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


in  upon  the  garrison.  In  the  mean  time  the  second  de- 
tachment would  crawl  quietly  around  below  the  steps  and 
charge  the  fort  furiously  in  the  rear  with  battering-rams 
made  of  brooms  and  shovels. 

The  soldiers  in  the  fort  were  on  the  alert,  and  ready 
for  any  move  of  the  enemy's  that  might  come  from  the 
front  or  either  side.  It  had  been  so  long  since  anything 
had  been  seen  of  those  who  objected  to  the  building  of 
a  fort  in  Bucksport,  that  the  defenders  of  Fort  Defiance 
were  already  feeling  like  victors.  The  lookout  was  still 
kept,  but  when  any  of  the  watchers  glanced  back  at  their 
store  of  shot,  and  then  at  the  thick  wall  of  snow  in  front  of 
them,  they  felt  as  if  no  ordinary  attack  need  concern  them. 

Even  Tommy  was  brave  then,  and  began  to  explain 
that  he  had  been  frightened  only  because  the  fort  was  in 


THE    FIKST    ATTACK. 

such  an  unfinished  state  that  it  seemed  certain  they  would 
be  obliged  to  surrender  at  once. 

"The  way  things  are  fixed  now,"  he  said,  boldly,  "I 
could  keep  the  whole  crowd  of  them  out  alone,  an'  you 
jest  see  what — 

"Hark!"  cried  Captain  Billy,  holding  up  his  hand 
wariiiiigly,  as  a  wild  halloo  was  heard.  Before  he  could 
say  another  word  there  was  a  fierce  rain  of  snow-balls 
falling  apparently  from  the  sky.  Then  before  the  gar- 
rison could  recover  its  lost  wits  a  singular  crunching 
sound  was  heard.  In  a  moment  the  entire  back  of  the 
fort  was  pressed  in,  while  it  seemed  as  if  whole  tons  of 
snow  had  suddenly  been  launched  upon  them. 

Every  soldier  in  the  fort  was  knocked  down  by  the  ter- 
rible avalanche,  and  each  one  was  animated  by  the  same 
desire — to  escape  before  they  were  buried  in  the  ruins  of 
their  own  fort. 

Whenever  the  head  of  one  of  the  brave  defenders  of 
Fort  Defiance  appeared  above  the  covering  of  snow  that 
enveloped  them  all,  the  enemy  on  the  school-house  steps 
pelted  it  with  snow-balls,  until  it  was  apparent  to  every 
one  of  the  soldiers  that  the  destruction  of  their  fortifica- 
tion had  not  been  an  accident,  but  the  work  of  the  enemy. 

Fort  Defiance  was  nothing  more  than  a  snow-bank; 
the  immense  pile  of  shot  but  a  shapeless  mass  of  snow. 
And  the  enemy  occupied  the  choice  of  positions  which 
the  defenders  thought  they  had  secured. 

Under  the  circumstances,  what  could  Captain  Billy  do  ? 
It  was  useless  then  to  think  of  resistance,  and,  instead  of 
issuing  any  command,  he  set  an  example  of  retreat,  in 
which  he  was  speedily  followed  by  all  his  men,  while 
from  the  brow  of  the  hill  the  enemy  poured  into  their 
disordered  ranks  a  well-directed  volley  of  hastily  made 
shot. 


It  was  not  until  nearly  evening  that  Captain  Billy  and 
his  men  ventured  back  for  the  shovels  and  other  things 
they  had  taken  with  them  to  Abbott's  Hill,  and  there,  ou 
the  ruins  of  Fort  Defiance,  they  vowed  that  they  would 
never  embark  in  such  an  enterprise  again  without  first 
(•(Hinting  the  chances  of  defeat  as  well  as  those  of  success. 


SOME  DAINTY  MORSELS  FOR  THE  WHALES. 

BY  SARAH  COOPER. 

DID  you  ever  think  how  hard  it  would  he  to  describe 
a  soap-bubble  to  a  person  who  had  never  seen  one  ? 
It  would  even  be  difficult  to  paint  a  picture  that  would 
convey  an  idea  of  its  delicate  beauty.  I  find  the  same- 
difficulty  in  describing  to  you  a  class  of  animals  almost 
as  fairy-like  as  soap-bubbles,  although  they  swim  about  in 
the  ocean,  and  are  honored  with  the  high-sounding  name 
of  Ctenophora. 

At  the  first  glance  ctenophora  may  look  like  a  hard 
word,  but  drop  the  "c,''and  you  will  find  it  very  easy— 
' '  te-noph'-o-ra."  Were  it  possible  for  you  once  to  see  these 
charming  creatures  darting  about  in  their  native  se;i  wa 
ter,  their  name  henceforth  would  have  a  pleasant  sound, 
and  even  a  pleasant  look,  recalling  to  your  minds  lovely 
images  of  floating  balloons  and  fairy  bubbles. 

<  'tenophora  are  too  small  to  be  seen  at  the  distance  we 
usually  are  from  the  surface  of  the  ocean,  so  the  best  way 
to  observe  them  is  in  a  large  glass  jar.  On  a  calm  day 
a  jar  of  water  dipped  from  the  surface  of  the  ocean  is  pret- 
ty sure  to  contain  some  of  these  beautiful  creatures.  ;il 
though  it  may  be  that  several  jarfuls  will  have  to  be  raised 
before  the  search  is  successful. 

Upon  looking  closely  at  the  little  captives  you  will  find 
them  to  be  jelly-like  melon -shaped  bodies,  with  bands 
running  from  end  to  end  like  the  ribs  on  a  melon.  They 
are  almost  transparent,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  prismat- 
ic colors  that  play  upon  their  sides  as  they  glide  through 
the  water  we  could  scarcely  see  them.  If  the  ctenophora 
sporting  about  in  the  jar  should  swim  in  between  you  and 
any  object  beyond  the  jar,  you  can  still  see  the  object  dis- 
tinctly through  the  transparent  bodies  of  these  interesting 
animals.  Fig.  1  shows  the  form  of  one  of  the  ctenophora, 
but  it  gives  no  idea  of  its  delicacy. 

The  soft  bodies  of  the  ctenophora  and  their  manner  of 
life  may  remind  you  of  jelly-fish.  Still,  their  structure  is 
far  more  complicated,  as  we  may  observe  through  Un- 
clear substance  of  which  the  body  is  composed.  When 
taken  from  the  sea-water  they  lose  their  shape,  and  no- 
thing is  left  but  a  film  which  is  almost  invisible. 

The  thought  has  perhaps  already  occurred  to  you  that 
such  animals  as  these,  with  jelly-like  bodies,  could  live  no- 
where but  in  the  water.  Many  of  them  have  no  means  of 
pursuing  or  of  catching  their  prey,  and  they  obtain  only 
such  food  as  is  floated  to  them  by  currents  in  the  water. 

Although  the  ctenophora  look  so  fairy-like,  they  devour 
a  large  number  of  animals,  and  they  seem  to  prefer  their 
own  kindred.  The  mouth  is  at  the  upper  end  of  the  body, 
and  when  it  opens,  the  food  floats  in  and  is  quickly  digest- 
ed. In  addition  to  the  cavities  necessary  for  digesting 
food,  there  is  a  set  of  canals  within  the  body  for  the  circu- 
lation of  water. 

The  cteuophora  swim  about  with  exquisite  grace,  still 
they  have  no  arms,  no  legs,  no  fins,  to  s^-im  with.  What 
need  have  they  of  any  such  organs  ?  Their  cilia  are  quite 
sufficient  (the  word  cilia,  you  remember,  means  eyelash- 
es). Those  eight  stripes  we  see  running  from  one  end  to 
the  other  in  Fig.  1  are  bauds  of  muscles  ou  which  are  ar- 
ranged comb-like  fringes  of  cilia,  which  wave  rapidly  in 
the  water,  and  give  to  the  animal  its  lively  motions.  '  In- 
deed, it  seems  as  if  the  fairy-like  creature  could  not  keep 
still.  How  can  it  keep  still  when  these  impatient  cilia  are 
striking  the  water  >.  They  send  the  little  thing  round  and 
round,  darting  up  and  down,  till  we  wonder  which  way 


JANTAKY  30,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


197 


it  will  go  next.  The  cilia,  being  worked  by  muscles,  are 
under  the  control  of  the  animal,  am!  arc  used  upon  the  same 
principles  thai  are  applied  by  the  oarsman  in  steering  and 
propelling  his  boat. 

These  ei^lil  hands  of  cilia  add  greatly  t<>  the  beauty  of 
tlic  dainty  creatures.  Their  rapid  motion  separates  tlie 
ra\s  of  light  that  fall  upon  them,  and  produces  down 
each  band  a  Hash  of  rainbow  colors.  In  fact,  the  cilia 
are  so  important  and  characteristic  a  feature  of  the  Cte 

llophora    tll.lt    1    u  alll     \  oil   to  I  lecoli  ie  perfect  i  \    I',  111  I  i  1  ial1  \V  it  ll 

tliem.     Tlie  appearance  of  these  bair  like  organs  is  much 

the  same   wherever  they  are   found,  and    they   sbov,    \,-r\ 

distinct  I;,     i.n    the   gills  of   the    limsse!    I  Ki".'.    -'.         These  gills 

are    friii'j'ed    with    countless   cilia,   which    under   a    i ro 

scope  ma\  be  seen  iii  rapid  motion,  producing  a  continual 
current  of  \\ater  in  one  direction.  Their  motion  is  reg- 
ular, like  that  id'  the  bCart.  The  little  plates  1'onilillg 

the  u-ill  lie  side  by  side  naturally,  and  unless  \\  e  looked 
ver\  close|\.  we  might  think  the  gills  consisted  of  only 
one  |)iece.  The  plates  are  pul  led  apart  in  the  drawing  to 

show  the  cilia  more  distinctly. 

ll  is  interest! iii:'  to  notice  the  various  n-es  ,,f  cilia  in 
dill'erent  positions  in  which  they  occur.  Sometime-*,  as 


Fii^.  I,— CTBNOPHOHA. 

in  the  ctenophora.  they  ])ropel  the  animal  by  striking  tin- 
water  like  a  multitude  of  tiny  oars.  Sometimes  they  sur- 
round the  mouth,  "and  by  their  incessant  action  produce 
a  small  whirlpool,  into  which  the  food  is  sucked."  Ill 
other  cases  their  office  seems  to  be  to  supply  the  needful 
air  by  keeping  up  a  continual  current  of  water,  there  be- 
ing as  much  air  in  the  water  as  these  animals  need.  Oil 
the  other  hand,  we  must  not  imagine  that  cilia  are  con- 
lined  to  the  lower  animals  living  in  the  water.  They 
serve  important  uses  even  in  our  own  bodies.  For  in- 
stance,the  air-passages  leading  to  our  lungs  are  lined  with 
cilia,  which  are  constantly  lashing  the  air,  and  beating 
back  particles  of  dust  and  other  impurities  which  it  con- 
tains. Were  it  not  for  the  cilia,  these  impurities  would 
reach  our  lungs,  and  produce  irritation. 

The  beautiful  ctenophora,  idly  sporting  in  the  water, 
and  seeming  to  have  no  aim  but  enjoyment,  do  not  lead 
lives  that,  are  entirely  useless,  since  they  form  the  chief 
food  of  the  Greenland  whale.  Do  you  not  think  these 
are  dainty  morsels  for  whales  to  feed  upon  ?  There  must 
be  a  good  deal  of  nourishment,  though,  in  their  transpar 


•  >  ~  — - 

:  I 

\NV 

•  ••       ~j.fi    '.  -   • 

| 
\\  « 

A  O  V 

V 
i  i-    .'      i  ii  iv  UN  TIII;  l.n.i.s  IIP  A  MI-I-SKL. 


cut  bodies,  for  the  whales  grow  enormously  large  and  fat. 
It  takes  a  great  many  ctenophora  to  make  a  meal  for  the 
monsters.  Lar-e  shoals  of  ihem  are  met  with  in  arctic 
•nd  as  the  whales  swim  III  rough  the  water  with  their 
lari:c  mouths  hangiiii;-  open,  they  catch  the  ctenophora  on 
their  whalebone  fringe-.,  and  swallow  a  mouthful  ai  a 
time. 

Ill  certain    parts  of  the  Arctic  Ocean   the  water   is  of  a 

grass   L^reen    hue.  and    is   quite   opacpie.      It    is  comn ly 

spoken  of  as  the  ••green  water."  Its  peculiar  appearance- 
is  caused  by  the  immense  number  of  ctenophora  it  con- 
tains. These  frolic-Mime  little  beings,  living  so  thick  and 
close  as  to  color  the  water,  are  loo  small  to  be  seen  with- 
out a  microscope.  The  rose  colored  idyia.a  species  of 
ctenophora,  is  three  or  four  inches  long.  It  sometimes 
occurs  in  such  numbers  as  to  tinge  large  patches  of  the 
sea  «  ith  its  ros\  color. 

All  the  ctenophora  are  phosphorescent.  They  are 
abundant  on  our  own  coasts,  and  are  often  left  on  the 
shore  at  low  tide,  yet  their  beauty  can  only  be  seen  as 
the\  glide  through  the  water  like  fairy  balloons.  The 
Of  some  species  escape  singh,  others  are  laid  in 
strings  or  masses  of  jelly,  and  the  young  ones  hatch  out  in 
the  same  form  as  the  parent. 

A  jarful  of  sea  water  dipped  from  the  end  of  a  pier  one 
bright  summer  day  contained  four  ctenophora,  and  made 
a  u  hole  parly  glad  for  an  hour.  It  was  a  great  delight  to 
watch  these  daiiilx  cival  ures  dart  i  ng  hither  and  thither, 
sinking  and  rising  airain.  or  resting  011  their  oars,  accord- 
ing to  their  own  sweet  will.  Sometimes  we  could  not  see 
them  at  all.  though  we  knew  they  were  in  the  clear  water 
before  us;  then  a  Mash  of  bright  colors  burst  upon  us, 
and  we  followed  their  devious  course  by  their  glitter  and 
sparkle.  How  we  wondered  and  admired  as  we  gazed, 
longing  to  know  more  of  that  mysterious  thing- we  call 
life,  and  yet  know  so  little  about  !  These  animals,  we  say, 
are  constructed  upon  a  simple 
plan,  yet  the  secret  of  their  exist- 
ence is  past  our  linding  out. 

One  of  these  captive  ctenoph- 
ora was  smaller  than  the  oth- 
ers, and  more  nearly  spherical. 
It  belonged  to  the  species  Plcn- 
robracliia,  which  you  will  see 
represented  in  Fig.  3.  This  was 
our  especial  favorite.  At  times  it 
would  throw  out  two  long  slen- 
der tentacles,  which  were  orna- 
mented on  one  side  with  deli- 
cate tendrils.  Upon  some  sud- 
den fancy  of  the  animal  these 
tentacles  were  instantly  drawn 
in  out  of  sight,  while  at  the  next 
moment  they  were  floating  be- 
hind it  for  nearly  half  a  yard, 
posed  the  exquisite  creature  was  amusing  itself  by  trying 
in  how  many  different  ways  its  tentacles  could  be  curved 
and  twisted. 


Fig.  3.— PLEUROBRACUIA. 


One  might  have  sup- 


198 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  CRICKET  AND  THE  TEA-KETTLE. 

BY  SUSAN  HARTLEY  SWETT. 
THE  first  star  peeps  within  the  pane 

Tliis  eoltl  and  frosty  weather. 
When  the  cricket  and  the  tea-kettle 

Commence  to  sing  together: 
O  chirr,  chirr,  chirr,  O  bubble,  bubble,  bubble — 
There's  nothing  like  a  song  to  charm  away  life's  trouble. 

The  cricket  'neath  the  hearth-stone  bright 

Is  piping  summer  glories; 
The  kettle  o'er  the  glowing  coals 

Is  telling  sweet  home  stories. 
O  chirr,  chirr,  chirr,  O  bubble,  bubble.  bubbl< — 
There's  nothing  like  a  song  to  charm  away  life's  trouble. 

Puss  sits  upon  the  warm  soft  rug 

With  eyes  that  dance  and  glisten; 
The  old  folk  lean  back  in  their  chairs. 

And  smile,  and  softly  listen. 
O  chirr,  chirr,  chirr.  ()' bubble,  bubble,  bubble— 
There's  nothing  like  a  song  to  charm  away  life's  trouble. 

The  children  gather  round  the  hearth. 

Their  faces  bright  with  laughter; 
The  tire-light  sheds  its  rosy  glow 

On  each  old  beam  and  rafter. 

And  chirr,  chirr,  chirr,  and  bubble,  bubble,  bubble — 
There's  nothing  like  a  song  to  charm  away  life's  trouble. 

Oh.  in  the  farmer's  kitchen 

These  winter  nights  are  cheery; 
The  bare  boughs  creak,  the  wind  complains, 

The  world  without  is  dreary. 

But  chirr,  chirr,  chirr,  and  bubble,  bubble,  bubble — 
There's  nothing  like  a  song  to  charm  away  life's  trouble. 


BITS  OF  ADVICE. 

BY  AUNT  MARJORIE  PRECEPT. 


WHAT  TO  DO  IX  CASE  OF  FIRE. 

THE  papers  have  lately  told  us  of  a  number  of  distress- 
ing deaths  by  fire.  Great  hotels  and  warehouses  have 
suddenly  burst  into  sheets  of  flame  in  the  night,  and  fran- 
tic people  have  either  perished  in  the  dreadful  blaze  or, 
throwing  themselves  from  windows,  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces  in  the  street.  I  hope  that  none  of  my  young  friends 
may  ever  have  to  pass  through  so  awful  an  experience. 
But  if  you  should  be  surprised,  at  night  or  in  the  daytime, 
by  the  presence  of  smoke  in  your  rooms,  do  not  lose  your 
wits  if  you  can  help  it. 

Remember  at  such  a  moment  that  although  you  are  in 
great  danger,  there  are  friends  near  who  will  try,  if  pos- 
sible, to  come  to  your  assistance.  Do  not  open  doors  or 
windows  wildly,  and  waste  no  precious  moments  in  stand- 
ing and  screaming  for  help.  Instead,  think  if  you  can 
of  the  straightest  way  out,  quickly  wrap  a  thick  shawl  or 
blanket  around  you,  covering  your  head  and  your  hair, 
and  then  creep  on  your  hands  and  knees  to  the  door  or 
the  stairway.  There  is  always  air  to  breathe  near  the  floor. 

If  you  are  in  the  room  with  others,  and  a  lamp  is  upset 
or  some  floating  drapery  takes  fire,  recollect  that  you  must 
smother  the  flames  by  throwing  a  rug  on  them,  pulling 
curtains  or  hangings  down,  and  covering  them  with  a 
carpet  or  a  quilt,  or  in  some  similar  way  stop  the  current 
of  air  oil  which  fire  feeds.  If  a  child's  apron  catches 
from  the  grate  or  stove,  wrap  a  shawl  or  blanket  about 
the  little  creature  promptly,  and  roll  her  on  the  floor. 

You  can  not  be  too  careful  with  regard  to  matches,  can- 
dles, and  lamps.  Those  of  you  whose  homes  are  lighted 
with  kerosene  or  other  oils  should  ask  the  person  who 
takes  care  of  the  lamps  always  to  fill  them  in  the  morn- 
ing, never  doing  so  after  night-fall.  A  properly  filled 
lamp  is  not  likely  to  explode.  Servants  should  be  warn- 
ed to  be  extremely  careful  in  the  use  of  kerosene.  They 
should  not  be  allowed  to  pour  it  upon  their  kindling-wood 
hi  order  to  light  a  fire  quickly.  Make  it  a  rule  never  to 
trifle  with  fire,  which  is  a  great  comfort  in  its  proper  place, 
but  a  dreadful  foe  when  beyond  our  control. 


REG. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE.  .Jl'N. 

CHAPTER  I. 

rpHE  train  was  rushing  along  so  fast  that  Reg  was 
J_  forced  to  give  up  counting  the  telegraph  poles,  and 
still  Aunt  Susan  fretted  lest  they  should  be  too  late. 

"Twenty  minutes  behind  time — twenty  minutes,  do 
you  hear,  Reginald?"  she  kept  repeating,  fixing  her  sharp 
gray  eyes  on  her  nephew  as  sternly  as  if  it  were  his  fault 
that  a  coupling  had  broken  two  miles  back. 

"How  we  are  ever  to  get  through  that  dreadful  city 
and  down  to  the  ferry  by  four  o'clock  I  don't—  Now, 
Reginald,  do  stop  twisting  about  so  in  that  chair;  you 
make  me  dizzy;"  and  poor  nervous  Aunt  Susan  Brax 
patted  one  hand  against  the  other,  as  if  she  longed  to  box 
somebody's  ears — a  thing  she  had  never  done  in  her  life. 

••  Well,  I  don't  like  these  palace-cars  half  as  much  as 
the  other  kind,  anyway.  You  can't  get  a  bit  close  to  the 
window;"  and  as  he  spoke  the  boy  began  playing  a  spite- 
ful tune  on  the  one  leg  of  the  parlor  chair  with  the  heels 
of  his  shoes. 

' '  There,  now !"  cried  Aunt  Susan,  in  an  angry  whisper. 
"Did  any  one  ever  see  such  an  ungrateful  boy?  Two 
dollars  extra  I  paid  to  ride  in  this  car,  and  this  is  the 
thanks  for  it!  But  we've  only  one  life  to  live,  and —  Oh, 
deary  me,  if  we  miss  that  boat!  It's  nearly  three  now, 
so —  But  the  conductor  came  along  just  then,  and  for 
the  space  of  five  minutes  Miss  Brax  forgot  everything 
else  in  trying  to  ask  all  the  questions  she  could  think  of 
concerning  trains  and  ferry-boats. 

Sin'  was  the  only  sister  of  Reg's  mother,  and  hud  never 
had  anything  to  do  with  children  until  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robin- 
son, went  to  Europe  for  their  health.  Then  there  being  no 
one  else  with  whom  to  leave  Reg,  on  the  way  from  Maine, 
where  the  Robinsons  lived,  to  Boston,  where  they  were 
to  take  the  steamer,  he  was  dropped  at  the  little  New 
England  town  in  which  his  mother  had  been  born,  and 
where  Aunt  Susan  kept  house  by  herself  in  the  old  home- 
stead. 

Now  Reg  was  not  a  bad  boy,  but  then  he  was  a  l>oy, 
and  having  had  very  slight  previous  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Brax,  he  shocked  her  at  the  very  start,  not  only  by 
attempting  to  call  her  "Aunt  Sue,"  but  also  by  lying  in 
bed  on  the  first  morning  until  the  second  bell  had  rung. 

Life  at  Broadfarms  was  not  very  exciting,  as  most  of 

the  people  in  the  place  seemed  to  be  grown  up.     There 

was   one  boy,  however,  Phil   Fail-lock,  who   lived    next 

door,  with  whom  Reg  had  formed  quite  a  warm  t'riend- 

i,  ship;  but  just  as  he  began  to  rejoice  in  the  fact,  a  letter 

came  from,  one  .of  Aunt  Susan's  second  cousins  in  New 

]  Jersey,  stating  that  she  was  laid  up  with  a  broken  arm, 

and  begging  Miss  Brax  to  come  on  at  once  and  "see  to 

things." 

"  Are  the  things— I  mean,  are  {here  any  boys  ?"  asked 
,  Reg,  when  told  to  prepare  himself  for  the  journey. 

"Boys?  No  indeed,  "retorted  his  aunt.  "  There's  only 
Cousin  Sarah  herself  and  her  husband,  John,  ten  years 
older,  and  quite  deaf." 

"  Oh  dear!"  sighed  Reg.  And  Aunt  Susan  thought  it 
very  good  in  him  to  take  the  afflictions  of  others  so  to 
heart,  until  he  unluckily  added,  "  Couldn't  you  leave  me 
behind — at  the  Fail-locks'  ?" 

"Mercy  on  us,  child  !  what  are  you  saying  ?  Two  boys 
in  one  family!"  and  Miss  Brax  looked  a  whole  series  of 
exclamation  points  at  the  bare  suggestion. 

So  the  front  part  of  the  rambling  old  house  was  shut 
up,  and  the  cook,  with  her  husband,  the  gardener,  left  to 
live  in  and  defend  the  rear,  while  Miss  Brax  and  her  ne- 
phew departed  for—  But  Reg  did  not  even  know  the 
name  of  the  place,  as  whenever  he  attempted  to  ask  ques- 
tions on  the  subject  Aunt  Susan  implored  him  not  to 


.1 ANTARY  KO,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


109 


bother  her,  adding  that   "children   should  be  seen,  not 
heard." 

But  then  the  good  lady  was  very  nervous  ahout  travel- 
ling, especially  as  on  this  occasion  sin-  would  he  obliged  to 
pass  through  New  York,  and  it  was  in  the  fear  that  some- 
thing horrible  would  happen  to  her  while-  in  that  city  that 
she  had  ar ranged  to  make  the  connection  with  tin-  New 
Jersey  train  as  close  as  possible.  And  now  she  was  alarm- 
i-d  h--t  sin-  had  ovi-m-a'-heil  hcrsi-lf. 

As  soon  as  the  conductor  ha<l  torn  himself  away.  Miss 
Brax.  with  nervous  fingers,  noted  down  in  IIIT  litt  le  bla»k- 
book  the  directions  he  had  given  lier,  and  then  announced 
in  solemn  tones  to  her  nephew:  "Keginald,  we  shall  lie 
obliged  to  make-  use  of  that  contrivance  of  this  modern 
age  upon  which  I  have  always  looked  with  the  supivmrst 
horror  the  elevated  railroad.  (  Mherwise.  the  conductor 
tells  me.  we  shall  he  left.  Oh.  deary,  deary  me!  why  <//'/ 
Cousin  Sarah  stumble  over  that  water  pail  .'" 

Reg's  heart  gave  a  quick  bound  of  joy.  Phil  Fail-lock 
had  told  him  soiiietliingabout  the  ears  in  N'ew  York,  which 
ran  along  as  high  as  the  second  story  windows,  and  now 
to  think  he1  was  not  only  to  see  the  wonder,  but  actually 
to  lieeomc  a  part  of  it  !  Just  then,  however,  the  train  cu- 
te-red the  long  series  of  tnnm-U  leading  to  the  Grand  Cen- 
tral .Depot,  ami  Aunt  Susan  kept  him  so  busy  hunting 
about  among  the  racks  and  hooks  for  possibly  forgotten 
articles  as  lo  leave  him  no  time  to  think  about  future 
delights. 

"  Kernel  ge,  ma'am  !  Kerridgc'  ker  r  ridge  !  1  light  this 
way.  anywhere  you  like,  ma'am!" 

I'oor  Miss  I!ra\!  these  cries  nearly  drove-  her  wild.  as. 
clutching  Keg  with  one  hand  ami  her  \\  ell-worn  carpet- 
bag— which  she  would  trust  to  no  one  else  with  the  oth- 
er, she  passed  from  the  station  to  the  street.  Then  she 
had  no  sooner  escaped  the  haekmen  than  a  small  boy 
stationed  himself  at  her  side,  and  stretching  out  his  hand 
toward  tin-  precious  satchel,  was  about  to  ask  leave  to 
carry  it.  when  Aunt  Susan,  mistaking  him  for  a  thief, 
called,  "  Police  !"  and  tied  faster  than  ever  in  the  dirn-l  ion 
of  the  elevated  road  on  Sixth  Avenue. 

(  In  reaching  the  latter  they  rushed  up  the  nearest  stair- 
way only  to  liml.  after  the  tickets  had  been  bought,  that 
they  were  on  the  up-town  side,  and  consequently  \\oiild 
lie  obliged  to  go  down-stairs  again,  cross  the  street,  and 
ascend  to  the  station  opposite. 

When  informed  of  this  fact  Aunt  Susan,  flushed,  with 
bonnet  awry  and  her  gray  curls  dancing  up  and  down 
excitedly,  looked  so  terrible  in  her  angi-r  that  Keg  trem- 
bled as  he  followed  her.  By  the  time  they  had  reached 
the  street,  however,  she  had  grown  so  white  ami  walked 
with  such  tottering  steps  that  he  was  ahout  to  venture  a 
word  of  consolation,  when  she  suddenly  dashed  forward, 
and  pushing  Reg  on  ahead,  hurried  it])  the  other  steps  al- 
most two  at  a  time. 

"  Run,  Reginald,  run  !"  she  cried.  "  Don't  you  see  the 
train  coming  ?'' 

But  unfortunately  Reg  had  at  that  instant  caught  sight, 
of  a  balky  horse  in  the  street  below,  and  was  craning  his 
head  over  the  railing  to  look  at  it,  which  so  exasperated 
his  aunt  that  she  boxed  his  ears,  and  gave  him  a  push 
which  sent  him  sprawling  up  the  stairs. 

Now  Reg  ought  to  have  comprehended  Miss  Brax's 
state  of  mind  and  carefully  avoided  giving  her  any  cause 
for  anxiety;  but  then,  he  argued  to  himself,  he  had  only 
halted  for  the  least  fraction  of  a  minute,  and  his  ear 
tingled  so,  and  no  one  had  ever  struck  him  before;  so 
Aunt  Susan  must —  But  just  then  Miss  Brax  gave  him  a 
second  push,  dropped  two  tickets  into  the  box,  and —  But 
Reg  did  not  svait  to  be  shoved  a  third  time.  With  a  bound 
he  rushed  for  the  cars,  which  were  about  to  start,  gained 
the  platform  of  one  of  them,  the  gate  clashed  to  behind 
him.  and — he  was  off  down-town  alone,  for  Aunt  Susan 
had  been  left ! 


It  took  Reg  quite  five  minutes  to  comprehend  his  situa- 
tion, and  it  was  not  until  he  had  walked  twice  through  tin- 
four  cars  composing  the  train,  without  discovering  a  sin- 
gle familiar  face,  that  he  sat  down  in  a  corner  to  seriously 
confront  the  fact  that  he  was  lost.  If  he  had  only  known 
what  ferry  they  were  to  take,  or  even  the  name  of  the 
town  to  which  they  were  going,  he  might  have  inquired 
his  way  to  the  river  and  waited  there  for  his  aunt. 

"I'll  get  off  at  the  next  stop  and  run  hack  as  hard  as 
ever  I  can,"  he  resolved,  never  dreaming  that  the  distance- 
was  ten  blocks,  and  that  lie-fore  he  could  have  covered 
half  of  it  Aunt  Susan  would  be-  off  searching  for  him  else- 
where. 

As  soon  as  the  conductor  sang  out  the  name  of  the  next 
station  Reg  was  on  his  feet,  and  eagerly  waiting  for  the 
cars  te>  stop,  when  he  ran  down  the  stairs  and  up  the 
crowded  avenue  like  a  deer. 

But  as  he  tore  along,  a  new  difficulty  occurred  to  him. 
I!'  fore  he  could  reach  tin-  station  platform  he  would  be 
obliged  to  pay  his  fare,  and  as  a  fifty-cent  piece  was  all 
the  money  he  had,  lie  began  to  wonder  what  might  be-- 
i-ome  of  him  should  he  fail  to  find  his  aunt.  He  therefore! 
doubled  his  speed,  and  bounding  up  the  steps,  recklessly 
thre  down  his  money.  Then  on  receiving  forty  cents 
and  his  ticket,  he-  dashed  out  on  the  platform  only  to  find 
a  man  smoking  a  cigar  at  one  end  of  it,  and  a  girl  with  a 
baby  in  her  arms  at  I  he  other. 

"Did  you — did  you  see  a  lady,"  Reg  began,  tremulous- 
ly, approaching  the  gate-man  as  a  last  resort — "a  lady 
with 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  the  man.  impatiently,  as  he  let 
Rej's  ticket  down  with  his  sort,  of  pump-handle  arrange- 
ment, "  I've  seen  a  hundred  on  "em." 

The  boy  turned  away,  and  walked  slowly  down  the 
stairs.  A  hundred  ladies  on  one  spot!  Then  how  many 
there  must  be  in  the  whole  city,  and  how  could  one  poor 
little  boy,  with  only  forty  cents  in  his  pocket,  ever  hope 
to  Mi  id  his  aunt  Susan  among  them? 

"\Vhere  is  she  now.'"  he  wondered.  "Is  she  very 
sorry  she's  lost  me  ;  Maybe  she's  glad.''  And  as  the 
evil  thought  entered  his  head  it  appeared  to  find  a  snug 
little  nook  there  all  ready  to  receive  it,  where  it  grew 
and  flourished,  until  at  last  Reg  was  almost  ready  to  be- 
lieve that  his  aunt  had  brought  him  to  the  city  on  pur- 
pose to  get  rid  of  him,  and  that  he  was  a  very  much 
abused  boy,  and  consequently  quite  a  hero.  That  he  was 
awfully  hungry  he  reali/.ed  only  too  keenly  when,  in  the 
course  of  his  aimless  walk  along  the  avenue,  the  inviting 
odors  from  a  bakery  drew  him  to  the  window,  and  then 
into  the  store,  where  he  lavished  twenty  cents  on  a  cake 
which  it  would  have  horrified  Miss  Brax  to  have  seen  hini 
even  look  at. 

While  he  ate  it,  standing  there  by  the  counter,  he  tried 
to  feel  very  brave  and  manly,  taking  care  of  himself  in 
New  York,  and  free  to  go  where  he  chose;  but  it  was  no 
use.  When  he  thought  of  the  night,  and  of  his  three 
meals  for  the  next  day  and  the  next,  and  only  twenty 
cents  left  in  the  pretty  little  purse  his  mother  had  made  for 
him,  the  sob  that  wanted  to  come  up  and  the  last  piece  of 
cake  which  was  just  going  down  met  in  his  throat,  and 
he  hurried  out  into  the  fresh  air  of  the  street. 

But  which  way  should  he  go  ?  He  brushed  a  tear  a  \\  ay 
with  his  coat  sleeve,  which  he  noticed  was  covered  with 
dust  and  dirt,  for  in  his  wild  course  from  one  station  to 
another  he  had  run  against  all  sorts  of  things.  How- 
ever, he  could  not  bear  to  stand  still,  and  he  was  endea- 
voring to  decide  in  which  direction  lay  the  depot,  when  his 
eye  was  caught  by  a  fancifully  decorated  sign-board  across 
the  way,  setting  forth  the  fact  that  here  was  situated 
"Smith's  Theatre." 

To  Reg  the  words  had  a  sort  of  magical  appearance. 
On  two  glorious  red-letter  days  of  his  life  he  had  been  to 
the  circus,  but  the  inside  of  a  theatre  was  kiaown  to  him 


200 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


her  husband,  and  was  the 
great  traveller  Mr.  Du 
Chaillu.  More  eyes  open 
now,  I  think.  Well,  I'll 
tell  you  how  it  came  to  pass. 
When  the  terrible  war 
lieiween  the  Blue  and  the 
Gray  ended,  the  schools  of 
the  South  were  .found  to 
be  all  broken  up.  Many 
Southern  families  had 
neither  homes  nor  means 
of  any  kind,  whilst  many 
who  still  had  their  homes 
had  no  means  for  employ- 
ing teachers  in  their  fam- 
ilies. And  then  it  was  that 
the  lady  of  our  story,  Mrs. 
L. ,  and  her  husband,  Rev. 
Dr.  L.,  resolved  to  do  what 
they  could  for  the  education 
of  their  poor  country  peo- 
ple. 

By  the  expenditure  of 
much  of  their  limited  in- 
come, and  at  the  cost  of 
great  self-denial,  they  l>uilt 
in  their  own  yard  several 
halls  for  recitation  pur-, 
poses,  and  added  to  their 
old  family  home  several 
rooms  for  teachers  and 
boarding  pupils. 

Having  then  secured  ac- 
complished teachers  for  all 
substantial  branches,  they 
invited  parents  to  try  the 
school. 

The  girls,  large  and  small, 
flocked  in  from  all  quarters 
of  that  State,  and  from  some 
neighboring'  States.  Those 
who  could  pay  at  all  were 
expected  to  do  their  share; 

but  many  could  pay  little  or  even  nothing.  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
L.  now  felt  that  a  great  and  responsible  charge  was  theirs, 
though  there  was  to  be  no  gain  in  purse  to  them. 

Toward  the  close  of  one  winter  it  was  noised  through 
the  school  that  Mr.  Du  Chaillu  was  coming  to  visit  Dr. 
L.  If  the  scholars  had  been  asked.  "Who  is  Mr.  Du 
Chaillu?"  they  would  have  said,  "Why,  he  is  the  great 

hurrying  over,  Reg'  mingled  with  the  crowd.      The  next  j  traveller  in  Africa;  he  is  the  man  who  discovered  the 
moment,  to  his  extreme  amazement,  he  found  himself  in  I  gorilla,  and  he  is  coming  to  see  Dr.  and  Mrs.  L.  because 


•THE  GATE  CLASHED  TO  BEHIND  III.M.' 


only  by  Phil  Fairlock's  glowing  descriptions  of  a  panto- 
mime he  had  once  witnessed. 

For  the  moment  Reg  forgot  his  dismal  prospects  as  he 
gazed  at  this  temple  of  all  joys,  as  he  considered  it.  Peo- 
ple were  going  in  now,  and  as  the  boy  stood  watching 
them,  he  wondered  if  he  could  not  take  just  one  peep. 
The  temptation  to  try  at  least  was  not  to  be  resisted,  and 


the  auditorium  without  a  word  having  been  said  to  him 
about  tickets. 

[TO   BE   CONTINUED.] 


A  STORY  ABOUT  MR.  DU  CHAILLU. 

l-.Y  MISS   L.  M.  CRANE. 


w 


HAT  shall  we  do  with  you,  and  what  will  have 
become  of  us  by  the  time  your  visit  comes  to  an 


end  T 


he  knew  them  in  Africa  and  then  in  New  York.' 

You  see,  Dr.  L.  had  talked  to  the  girls  about  Africa, 
and  about  Mr.  Du  Chaillu,  and  had  lent  all  his  books  to 
this  one  and  that  one,  until  every  one  felt  almost  as  if  Mr. 
Du  Chaillu  was  a  personal  friend. 

At  last  the  train  left  the  expected  guest  at  the  station, 
and  Dr.  L.  and  his  man  Friday,  named  .John,  actually 
brought  the  gorilla-hunter,  all  alive  and  well,  home  to  the 
white  house  amongst  the  pines  and  mock-oranges,  just  in 
time  for  tea. 


That  is  what  a  South  Carolina  lady,  whom  we  will  call  |       Every  one,  I  think,  felt  perfectly  at  home    in    about 


Mrs.  L..  said  to  a  gentleman  who  was  her  guest. 

"What!"  I  hear  on  all  sides.  "  Why,  the  geographies 
say  Maine  is  noted  for  ice,  lumber,  and  fisheries;  Con- 
necticut, for  clocks  and  cutlery;  New  York,  for  wheat; 
and  South  Carolina,  for  its  hospitality.  Is  that  South 


half  a  minute  with  the  hero  of  the  place. 

As  soon  as  the  scholars  began  to  assemble  the  next 
morning,  Mr.  Du  Chaillu  was  on  the  play-ground  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of—  Ah!  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  didn't  I, 
that,  some  of  the  scholars'  names  were  Bob,  Jim,  Frank-, 


Carolina  hospitality,  for  a  lady  to  suggest  that  she  may  |  Norwood,  and  plenty  more  which  did  not  apply  to  girls, 
feel  relieved  when  the  time  comes  for  a  gentleman,  her  but  meant  some  of  the  little  boys  of  the  neighborhood 
guest,  to  leave  her  house  ?"  who  attended  the  "  Institute." 

Besides  that,  the  gentleman  was  the  valued  friend  of  '      It  was  to  see  these  boys  and  the  little  girls  that  Mr. 


JANUARY  30,  1883. 


IIAIiPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


201 


THE   GORILLA. 


202 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Du  Chaillu  went  out.  Scarcely  had  he  reached  the  play- 
ground when  there  came  hack  such  a  peal  of  laughter, 
such  shoutings  and  clappings  of  hands,  that  all  the  grown 
folks  ran  out  to  see  what  could  be  the  matter. 

But  the  school  bell  soon  put  an  end  to  the  excitement, 
and  it  was  renewed  only  at  recess. 

After  school,  however,  came  the  genuine  fun.  The  lit- 
tle ones  were  out-of-doors  at  play,  and  the  older  ones  were 
in  the  school-room  preparing  lessons,  writing  letters  or 
compositions,  or  amusing  themselves. 

Mr.  Du  Chaillu  having  told  the  little  ones  gorilla  sto- 
ries, proposed  they  should  "play  gorilla."  One  of  the 
number  was  chosen  to  personate  the  curious  animal,  while 
Mr.  Du  Cliaillu  explained  to  him  how  the  gorilla  would 
act  in  his  native  forests. 

Then  such  scamperings  followed !  Over  the  fences 
they  flew,  through  the  garden,  over  the  balustrade, 
around  the  houses,  and  finally  into  the  school-room,  bar- 
ring the  doors  and  windows.  All  this  time  the  gorilla 
was  here  and  there  grinning,  beating  his  breast,  chasing 
sharply  his  flying  victims,  and  now  he  followed  to  the 
school-room,  hanging  at  the  doors,  beating  at  the  win- 
dows, assailing  in  every  direction,  and  roaring  terribly. 
Ahi  it  was  exciting  to  the  utmost. 

Within,  the  hunted  ones  were  shrieking,  laughing, 
trembling,  fully  imagining  they  were  in  fearful  danger. 

And  this  sort  of  fun  went  on  every  day  for  two  or  three 
weeks,  until  the  teachers  declared  they  had  no  control 
over  the  scholars.  They  talked  in  study  hours,  whisper- 
ed in  school,  and  all  that  could  be  heard  was  "gorilla," 
"snake,"  "Africa,"  "Du  Chaillu,"  "Ashango  Land," 
"dwarf."  On  slates  and  blackboards,  instead  of  the  or- 
dinary examples  and  problems,  they  drew  snakes,  lions, 
and  gorillas.  In  short,  every  idea  of  every  pupil,  every 
day  and  all  day  long,  seemed  to  begin,  continue,  and  end 
in  gorilla-hunting. 

At  least  one  boy  even  dreamed  of  him;  for,  crying  out 
in  sleep,  he  was  asked,  "  What's  the  matter  ?"  and  replied, 
"  Chally  gorilla  did  say  boo  to  me." 

By  this  time  Dr.  and  Mrs.  L.  began  to  feel  uneasy. 
They  said,  "Here  are  all  these  young  people  intrusted  to 
us  for  the  culture  of  their  minds,  and  although  work  must 
be  mingled  with  amusement,  everybody  knows  what  too 
much  play  does  with  Jack  and  Jill ;  so  we  must  really 
try  to  bring  our  young  folks  back  to  work." 

Then  Mrs.  L.  called  Mr.  Du  Chaillu  to  her,  and  said 
to  him  what  stands  at  the  beginning  of  this  story  of  ours. 
She  said  more  than  that  to  him,  for  she  told  him  how  ev- 
ery one  had  enjoyed  his  visit  more  than  any  other  visit 
that  had  ever  been  made  by  any  one  else  to  that  neigh- 
borhood. She  told  him  that  the  boys  and  girls  were  be- 
ginning to  forget  how  to  work  at  their  books,  and  if  they 
cared  only  for  fun,  and  not  for  learning  geography  and 
grammar  and  arithmetic  and  algebra,  "why,  you  know, 
sir,  they  will  never  be  great  travellers  or  writers  like  you." 
So  Mr.  Du  Chaillu  laughed  and  said  he  would  not  teach 
the  boys  and  girls  any  more  games,  but  would  a_llow  them 
to  settle  down  again  to  their  books.  He  paid  some  fare- 
well vi.siN.  and  everywhere  he  played  dolls  with  the  little 
girls,  and  said  pleasant  things  to  the  big  girls,  talked  guns 
and  hunting  and  horses  with  the  older  boys,  frolicked 
with  the  small  boys,  and  greatly  delighted  the  hearts  of 
the  fathers  and  mothers. 

One  lady  was  so  well  pleased  with  him  that  she  named 
her  little  son  "Paul  Du  Chaillu."  Little  Paul,  or  Paul 
junior,  says,  "When  I  get  to  be  a  man  I  mean  to  take 
my  gun  and  go  to  Africa,  like  my  Chally." 

Now  you  know  why  Mr.  Du  Chaillu  left  us;  and  he  has 
not  yet  paid  us  another  visit.  I  think  he  will  come  again, 
however,  for  every  few  months  some  of  his  friends  amongst 
the  pines  and  mock-oranges ;  are  'asking,  "When  is  Mr.  Du 
Chaillu  coming  to  see  you,  Mrs.  L.  ?" 

And  Mrs.  L.  replies,  "Some  time  or  other,  we  hope." 


SWIMMING  FOR  LIFE. 

A   STORY   OF   THE   SOUTH   PACIFIC. 

BY  DAVID  KER. 


'~VTO  sign  of  a  sail  yet,  Jim  ;" 

JL  i 


Nary  one,  Jack.  I  guess  our  time's  come." 
Jim  Hackett  had  indeed  some  cause  for  saying  so,  and 
he  said  it  in  a  dejected  tone,  which  was  rare  indeed  with 
him.  To  be  afloat  on  a  boundless  sea  without  knowing 
where  one  is,  or  having  any  means  of  finding  out,  is  an 
awkward  matter  at  best;  but  to  be  afloat  in  the  middle  of 
the  Pacific,  without  food  or  water,  in  an  open  boat,  under 
a  scorching  sun,  with  not  a  sail  in  sight,  might  well  make 
the  bravest  man  despair. 

Slowly  and  wearily  the  two  worn-out  men  (sole  surviv- 
ors of  the  fearful  disaster  which  had  destroyed  their  ves- 
sel and  all  their  shipmates)  rose  to  their  feet  and  strained 
their  blood-shot  eyes  over  the  bright,  merciless  sea. 

"Not  a  sail  anywheres,"  repeated  Hackftt,  despondent- 
ly; "and  we  can't  catch  one  o'  them  fish  that's  a-frolick- 
in'  around  the  boat  by  hundreds.  God  help  us!" 

"  So  He  will,  my  boy,  never  fear.  D'ye  remember  how, 
when  we  two  were  at  school  together  in  the  old  Bay  State, 
our  old  teacher  used  to  be  always  spinning  a  yarn  about 
some  captain  who  (when  his  ship  was  aground  and  likely 
to  go  to  pieces  any  minute),  after  he'd  given  his  orders 
and  done  all  he  could,  said  his  prayers  and  lay  down  to 
sleep;  and  the  Admiral,  when  he  heard  of  it,  said  he  was 
the  bravest  man  he'd  ever  known?  Now,  Jim,  let's  just 
say  our  prayers,  and  then  have  a  nap;  for  I  reckon  we've 
done  all  we  can,  and  the  rest's  in  better  luuids  than  ours." 
No  ear  but  God's  heard  the  short,  simple  prayer  which 
the  doomed  men  uttered,  in  their  extremest  need,  from  the 
midst  of  the  desolate  sea.  A  few  minutes  later  both  were 
sound  asleep  under  the  scanty  shelter  which  the  rag  of 
sail  could  give  against  the  life-destroying  heat  of  the  sun. 
They  slept  for  some  time,  but  at  length  the  increasing 
coolness  of  the  evening  air  after  the  scorching  heat  of  the 
day  began  to  have  its  natural  effect  upon  the  two  sleep- 
ers. They  awoke  almost  at  the  same  moment,  rubbed 
their  eyes,  and  then  sat  up  and  looked  around  them. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  sink,  but  everything  was 
still  as  light  as  noonday,  and  a  fresh  breeze  had  sprung 
up,  ruffling  the  smooth  surface  into  countless  ripples. 

"Jim,"  cried  Jack,  suddenly,  in  a  tone  of  great  excite- 
ment, "your  eyes  are  better'n  mine:  look  out  there  to  the 
nor' west,  and  see  if  you  make  out  anything." 

"I  guess  I  do,"  cried  his  companion,  joyfully.  "  Hold 
on  a  minute  till  I  make  sure.  Yes,  it  is,  sure  enough — 
it's  a  sail .'" 

With  clinched  teeth  and  straining  eyes  the  two  cast- 
aways stood  watching  the  distant  speck  on  which  hung 
their  only  chance  of  life.  All  at  once  a  kind  of  spasm 
shook  their  rugged  faces  as  it  became  terribly  evident  that 
the  course  which  she  was  steering  would  not  bring  her 
anywhere  near  their  boat. 

They  tried  to  signal  with  the  remnant  of  their  sail,  but 
it  was  neither  large  enough  nor  high  enough  to  be  seen 
at  such  a  distance.  They  made  frantic  efforts  to  shout, 
but  the  feeble  cry  which  their  parched  throats  could  utter 
would  not  have  been  heard  fifty  yards  oil'. 

Suddenly,  just  when  all  hope  seemed  gone,  the  wind 
shifted,  and  the  vessel  was  seen  to  alter  her  course. 

The  castaways  raised  a  faint  hurrah;  but  in  another 
moment  Jim's  keen  eye  perceived  that  although  this  ncw 
tack  would  bring  the  ship  much  nearer  to  them  than  be- 
fore, she  would  still  pass  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
them,  and  might  very  easily  miss  seeing  them  alloy-ether. 
"There's  only  one  way  now,  mate,"  said  he,  firmly, 
"and  I'm  a-going  to  try  it,  for  it's  neck  or  nothing  with 

US  IIOW.        God  bless  \  on,   inv   liny:" 

-A- loud  splash   followed  the 'words,  and  Jim  Hackett, 
looking  up  with  a  start,  saw  his  comrade's  round  black 


.lAM'AKY  30,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


203 


head  already  several  yards  away  from  the  boat.      But  he 

sa\v  sonictliinir  else,  which  startled  him  even  more,  and 
that  was  a  huge  black  object,  which  rose  suddenly  through 
the  smooth,  bright  water,  and  darted  swiftly  and  silently 
in  pin-suit  of  his  unconscious  comrade. 

"  Look  out.  .lack!"  shouted  he.  with  all  the  power  of  his 
failing  voice;  •'here's  a  shark!" 

Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  a  second  shark  appeared, 
and  the  daring  swimmer  found  himself  beset  on  both  sides 
at  once.  His  only  chalice  was  to  make  as  much  stir  and 
splashing1  in  the  water  as  possible,  thus  keeping  the  COW- 
ardly  sea  pirates  at  hay;  but  the  effort  exhausted  even 
more  rapidly  his  fast-failing  strength.  What  a  terribly 
long-  way  oil'  the  vessel  seemed  !  and  supposing  she  were  to 
alter  her  course  a<rain.  w  here  would  he  he  :  [nstinctively 
he  glanced  back  toward  the  boat.  The  hoat  was  </<nn-  .' 

(.rone,  as  if  it  had  never  been — hidden  behind  the  long 
si ih  swells  that  rose  high  above  his  head  every  mo- 
ment :  There  was  no  return  for  him  now.  for  he  knew 
not  even  which  direction  to  take;  and  on  he  went,  strug- 
gling for  life  with  limbs  that  grew  weakerat  .•very  stroke, 
while  the  cruel  eyes  and  raping  .jaws  on  cither  side  drew 
closer  and  closer,  hungering  for  their  prey. 

••Sam."  said  a  keen-eyed  sailor  to  his  chum,  glancinir 
over  tin'  vessel's  port  i|iiarter.  "  ain't  thai  mighty  like  a 
until,  somehow  >" 

"  A  man !"  echoed  the  passing  Captain,  bringing  his  tele 

scope  l»  hisc\e.  ••Thunder!  so  il  is!  1'ilt  her  head  ahoilt, 
smart,  and  stand  by  to  lower  the  hoat  !" 

The  help  came  none  too  soon,  for  .laelc  was  so  spent  that 
he  could  only  gasp  out,  " My  mate  yonder  boat."  But 

it  was  quite  enough.  Half  an  hour  laler.lim  1  lacked  was 
safe  on  hoard  likewise;  and  the  two  rescueil  men  1 1  \  ed  to 
tell  their  children  and  grandchildren  the  story  of  their 
adventure  in  the1  1'acilic. 


NAN.* 

i;v   MI;S  i.i  cv  c.  i.n.t.iE, 

ACTIIIIR  OF  "Mn.i>i!i:n'<  I'.M:I.UV "  "  Ai  \i    l:i  ni's  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MARGARET  BLAKE  was  in  the  garden  with  little 
David  when  the  happy  parly  arrived;  and  I!ob,  who 
had  already  grown  well  acquainted  with  Nan.  hui  ried  for- 
ward with  beaming  eyes  to  open  the  gate  for  her.  Then 
thev  all  went  into  the  parlor,  where  Love's  ilress  was  duly 
inspected,  and  David's  heart  delighted  by  a  game  Nan 
had  bought  for  him. 

"  Fat  her,"  Love  exclaimed,  "just  come  and  look!"  She 
held  up  the  pretty  dark  silk,  arranging  it.  in  a  most  fas-, 
cinating  fold.  Laura  was  near  her. 

"Oh!"  said  Love,  turning  around  with  a  pretty  smile, 
''how  well  it  looks  with  Miss  Laura's  hair!" 

Poor  Laura !  vanity  was  her  very  weakest  point ;  and  as 
Margaret  Blake  shook  out  the  brown  silk  near  to  her  pret- 
ty blonde  hair,  she  turned  toward  the  glass  with  a  most 
self-satisfied  expression.  It  might  have  grown  more 
complacent  had  not  the  mirror  also  reflected  Joan  grima- 
cing, and  Nan's  simple  young  face  looking  at  Laura's  very 
gravely. 

"Nonsense,  Margaret!"  she  exclaimed,  coloring;  but 
she  thought  how  hard  it  was  she  could  not  always  have 
—  what  Jane  Phillips  had,  for  instance  —  becoming  and 
stylish  costumes.  Laura's  standards  were  regulated  by 
a  few  very  overdressed  young  people  at  the  Beverley 
Academy. 

When  the  party  drove  home,  Nan  was  filled  with  anx- 
iety to  tell  her  aunt  everything.  For  just  in  those  few 


days  a  close  understanding  had  grown  up  between  the  old 
lady  and  the  child.  Nan  felt  like  a  new  being  from  the 
lonely  little  girl  who  had  one  day.  two  weeks  ago.  walked 
down  the  staircase  wishing  herself  in  Bromtield.  Her 
aunt's  heart  had  opened  to  her.  and  she  found  love  enough 
in  it  to  satisfy  her  own. 

After  tea  Miss  Rolf  and  Nan  went  into  the  parlor,  and 
then-  on  the  writing-table  lay  two  books,  bound  in  Russia 
leather,  and  with  "  Annice  Rolf"  printed  in  gold  letters  on 
the  covers. 

"  You  see."  said  Aunt  Letty,  "  one  is  for  your  accounts, 
the  other  is  a  sort  of  note-book  in  which  you  can  enter 
anything  you  think  the  Traverses  will  need." 

Nan  \\  as  deliirhted.  and  Aunt  Letty  said  she  would  leave 
her  alone  a  little  while  that  she  might  enter  in  her  ac- 
count-book the  expenditures  of  the  day. 

Nan  sat  down  in  the  window  overlooking  the  terrace, 
and  prepared  her  accounts  carefully.  Yet  I  am  afraid 
this  lirsi  pauv  was  ralher  wild  in  appearance.  So  far  as 
figures  and  items  read  it  was  correct,  and  stood  thus: 


*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


fin-  Mrs.  Trovers  ..........................  14  "ill 

Tliuiv  \VIMV  (no  soul-  ul  rlutlirs  for  Haviil.  ami  they  \vciv  '.i  nil 

I    ri,  liars  ........................................  :in 

a  shirts  .........................................  'J  nil 

1"  yards  of  miMrrrhcii  niii:;lin  ..................  -.  .  .  .  80 

A  <iark  skirt  ......................................  7"> 

game  mid  books  ............    ......................  8 

35  35 

Nan  summed  up  her  badly  spelled  account,  and  wondered 
if  Aunt  Lett  \  w  01  1  Id  think  she  bad  spent  too  much  money. 
She  \\  isbed  Lance  were  there'  to  help  her  decision  as  well 
as  her  figures;  anil  she  sal  looking  out  of  the  window,  bit- 
iiiLT  the  end  of  her  pen.  and  wondering  if  she  really  con  III 
manage  these  business  matters  successfully.  But.  she  re- 
flected. if  si  .....  nly  could,  what  a  useful  life  she  might 
lead.  Aunt  Letly  would  give  her  money,  she  felt  sure, 
for  every  useful  enterprise;  and  Nan  was  made,  as  her 
aunt  had  kindly  said,  to  he  a  "  helper." 

I'HU'TKR   XXII. 

THE  day  upon  which  Mrs  Travers  and  David  were  to 
take  possession  of  their  new  home  was  one  of  intense  ex- 
citement for  all  the  young  Rolfs.  Mrs.  -Travel's  had  been 
\isited  by  various  members  of  the  theatrical  company, 
one  of  whom  -the  lady  in  whose  dressing-room  Dr.  Rog- 
ers had  found  the  sick  woman  —  had  called  at  Rolf  House 
to  express  her  gratification,  and  offer  a  little  purse  made 
il])  among  the  company. 

"You  see,  madam,"  said  Mrs.  Laiujor  to  the  old  lady, 
"  we  thought  we  couldn't  go  off  without  sending  Mollie 
something;  so  we  just  made  up  this  little  sum,  hoping  it 
would  help  things  along." 

"I'm  sure  you  were  all  very  thoughtful,"  said  Miss 
Rolf;  "and  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that  Mrs.  Travers 
will  be  well  cared  for." 

"Well,  'in,  "said  the  other,  fanning  herself  vigorously, 
"you  see  she  wasn't  brought  up  in  the  profession  as  I 
was.  and  she  always  took  things  hard.  Travers,  her  hus- 
band, was  a  capital  comedy  man,  but  he  got  to  drink- 
ing, and  I  think  she  led  a,  hard  life  with  him.  She's 
one  of  those  that  couldn't  get  along  even  for  herself; 
but  she's  as  sweet  and  as  good  a  creature  as  I  ever  knew. 
We're  doing  a  good  business  now  on  the  road,  and  so 
we  thought  it  only  fair  poor  Mollie  should  have  some- 
thing." 

Before  Mrs.  Landor  left,  Miss  Rolf  asked  her  whether  she 
would  not  like  some  flowers;  and  Nan  conducted  her  into 
the  beautiful  garden,  where  she  gathered  a  heaping  basket 
of  roses  and  heliotrope  and  other  blossoms,  to  Mrs.  Lan- 
dor's  great  delight. 

"Well,  "she  said,  standing  in  the  garden  and  survey- 
ing the  large  handsome,  house  among  the  trees  —  "well,  I 
think  Mollie  Travers  has  found  friends."  A  wistful  look 


204 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  rv. 


came  into  the  good-hearted  woman's  face.  "I  wish  my 
Janey  were  going  to  do  half  as  well  in  life  as  I  know  Da- 
vid will  now.  Thank  you,  I'm  sure,"  she  added,  as  Nan 
laid  one  or  two  more  exquisite  "  Jaeque"  roses  in  the 
basket.  "  I  must  say  good-by ;  and  if  our  company  comes 
this  way  at  Christmas,  perhaps  we'll  find  Mrs.  Travers 
well  again." 

Miss  Rolf  said  she  hoped,  if  the  company  did  return, 
Mrs.  Lander  would  call  again ;  and  so  the  good  woman 
departed,  well  pleased  by  her  visit. 

That  afternoon  had  been  determined  upon  for  the  tak- 
ing- possession  of  the  new  rooms,  and  Mrs.  Landor  had  no 
sooner  departed  than  Phyllis  and  Joan  and  Lance  ap- 
peared, to  go  with  Nan  for  the  final  survey  and  arrange- 
ments of  the  room.  Phyllis  came  up  the  garden  path 
with  a  funny  little  half-satirical  smile  just  curving-  her 
lips. 


"HOW    WELL    IT    LOOKS    WITH    MISS    LAUIi.VS    HAIR 


"Who  in  the  world  was  your  strange  visitor.  Cousin 
Letty  ?"  she  inquired. 

Miss  Rolf  was  still  standing  on  the  steps,  where  she  had 
watched  Nan  gather  the  roses,  and  she  looked  a  little  dis- 
approvingly upon  pretty  Phyllis. 

"  That  was  a  very  good-hearted  friend  of  Mrs.  Travel's, " 
she  answered,  "\vlio  brought  a  little  purse  she  had  made 
up  among  her  associates  for  our  poor  friend." 

Now  there  wa.s  one  peculiarity  about  Aunt  Letitia 
which  appealed  most  strongly  to  Nan.  She  rarely  used 
strong  words  of  approval  or  blame,  yet  in  all  that  she 
said  it  was  not  possible  for  a  person,  even  of  ordinary 
judgment,  to  mistake  her  meaning.  Phyllis  felt  rebuked, 
and  she  hastened  to  change  the  subject.  It  was  this 
young  lady's  unchangeable  rule  never  to  annoy  Cousin 
Letty. 

Nan  was  soon  ready  to  start,  and  walked  along  with 
Joan's  hand  in  hers,  eagerly  describing  Mrs.  Landor's 
visit. 

"Oh,"  said  Joan,  "how  much   harder  I  should  have 


looked  at  her  if  I   had  only  known  that  she  was  an  act- 
ress!" 

But,  at  all  events,  it  was  consoling  to  hear  Nan's  bright 
description;  and  as  Joan  remarked  perhaps  she  would 
come  again  some  day,  Nan  promised  immediately  to  send 
for  her. 

They  found  Mrs.  Holt  anxious  to  show  them  how  well 
she  had  cleaned  the  rooms,  and  evidently  eager  to  know 
what  two  or  three  large  packages  which  had  come  from 
Ames's  contained.  These  were  opened  in  the  little  sit- 
ting-room, and  disclosed  a  pair  of  muslin  curtains,  some 
sofa  cushions,  and  two  sets  of  hanging  book-shelves,  with 
some  cheap  though  well-colored  blue  Japanese  china  bowls, 
and  a  few  ornaments  of  the  blue  and  white  ware. 

Nan  had  not  been   mistaken   in  relying  upon  Cousin 
Phyllis's  exquisite  taste,  even   in  arranging  the  simplest 
things;  and  added  to  this  was  so  much  tact  that  she  in- 
duced   Mrs.    Holt    to    put 
a  \\ay     the    tawdry    orna- 
ments of  the  room  without 
in  the  least  affronting  that 
good  woman. 

"My  Mirandy  made 
that. "she  said,  dusting  the 
glass  shade  of  some  hideous 
wax  flowers,  startling  fuch- 
sias and  lilies-of-the- valley, 
and  big  white  roses. 

"Oh,  then."  said  Phyl- 
lis, sweetly,  "hadn't  you 
rather  put  it  away  now, 
Mrs.  licit  .'"  And' so  one 
such  thing  after  another 
uas  disposed  of,  and  then 
the  little  sit  I  ing-room, 
with  its  matted  floor 
and  clean  walls  and  win- 
dows, the  chintz -covered 
sofa  and  chairs,  looked 
invitingly  ready  for  their 
tinal  touches.  The  book- 
shelves were  hung  at  each. 
side  of  the  chimney-piece, 
and  oil  the  lo\\er  shelves 
I  hey  put  some  of  the  Jap- 
anese ware,  in  which  fresh 
Mowers  could  be  kept. 
Then  the  few  pictures — 
good  cuts  from  illustrated 
papers,  and  well  framed  in 
plain  oak — were  hung,  the 
sola  cushions  adjusted,  and 
the  curtains  nicely  draped 

and  tied  back  with  dark  red  ribbons.  The  white  mar- 
ble centre  table  was  covered  with  an  olive  green  cloth, 
and  on  it  were  arranged  a  lamp  and  a  few  books,  and 
a  lacquer  box  in  which  were  pens  and  pencils,  while  an 
inkstand  and  blotter  were  at  one  side.  Nan  looked  around 
the  room  with  delight;  and  it  certainly  looked  most  in- 
viting, though  there  was  nothing  in  it  or  about  it  which 
suggested  luxury.  It  was  a  simple  abode ;  but  everything 
was  in  good  taste  and  refined. 

In  the  widow's  bedroom  a  few  comforts  for  an  in- 
valid were  placed— a  low  table  which  could  be  near  her 
lied,  a  nice  bath,  and  a  warm  wool  rug,  with  one  or  two 
cheerful  pictures  on  the  walls.  David's  little  room  be- 
yond they  felt  they  could  leave  more  bare,  since,  as  Nan 
'Boys  are  only  boys.'"  And  Joan  added,  "  And  they 


said, 


never  know  what  they  have  about  them.' 

By  three  o'clock  everything  was  ready:  flowers  were  in 
the  vases  and  bowls:  the  windows  were  open.  l,ul  shaded  ; 
and  Mrs.  Holt  was  instructed  to  have  a  nice  substantial 
tea  ready  when  the  mother  and  child  arrived  And  then 


JANUARY  30,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


205 


px  W/LES  ©t  P.  HILL 

x^ 

SH^LL  THE  M0RTH 


r°* 

F-ALL 

#     e 


- 


BQVE 

ITH  £ 
HE  BAf\£  BI\®W>f  EAlflVf 


8 


.-^.^ 


- 


77',,,.,-   • 

•X^k,.???"-  -" 

"'  ..  :  :  I 

&*£&:•> 

A: 


Nan  told  Phyllis  what  Aunt  Letty  had  suiru'ested — that 
Mrs.  Heriot  and  Love  should  bring  them  to  Miller  Street 
cottage. 

"  Aunt  Letty  says,''  said  Nan,  "that  they  may  feel  shy 
if  we  are  here." 


Phyllis  quite  agreed  to  this,  but  Joan  felt  as  if  she 
would  like  to  have  watched  the  Traverses  taking  posses- 
sion of  their  new  abode;  and  Nan  had  some  trouble  to 
console  her  on  the  way  home. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


206 


HARPER'S'  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV , 


PLAYMATES. 
Now,  Kitts',  Irani  your  lesson. 

The  baby's  picture-book 
Is  open  for  you.  Kitty  ; 

Don't  shut  your  eyes,  but  look. 

The  naughty,  naughty  Kitty. 

What  shall  we  do  with  her? 
To  all  the  baby's  coaxing 

She  only  answers,  "Purr." 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

CHILDREN,  did  you  ever  think  about  the  sun, 
and  what  a  mighty  wonder-worker  it  is?  Of 
course  you  like  sunshine,  and  are  always  glad 
when,  after  a  period  of  stormy  weather,  the  dear 
old  sun  looks  out  again,  and  scatters  the  gloomy 
clouds.  Let  me  tell  you  what  Professor  Young, 
of  Princeton  College,  lately  said  about  the  sun 
to  an  audience  of  delighted  New-Yorkers.  As 
it  was  a  learned  lecture,  I  fear  the  children  may 
not  have  read  it  when  it  was  reported,  although 
I  think  most  of  my  boys  and  girls  are  quite  old 
enough  to  understand  what  the  Professor  told 
the  grown  people  so  simply.  The  quotation  is 
from  the  New  York  Tribune: 

••  We  can  trace  to  the  direct  action  of  the  sun 
almost  everything  in  the  way  of  power  that,  oc- 
curs upon  the  earth.  Take,  for  instance,  the  wa- 
ter-wheel. You  go  into  a  mill  and  find  the,  spin 
dies  running.  The  power  that  drives  them  is  in 
the  sun  in  tliis  way  :  water  runs  down  the  chan- 
nel of  the  river  because  it  has  been  pumped  up 
by  the  action  of  the  sun  and  dropped  upon  the 
bill-tops,  ami  then  finds  its  way  down  to  the  sea 
aga  in.  anil  is  pumped  up  again  and  dropped  again, 
and  again  runs  to  the  sea,  and  really  the  p.m- 
er  thai  drives  it  is  the  power  thai  works  those- 
pumps.  Let  the  sun  stop  its  radiation  for  a  few 
days,  and  the  waters  of  the  hills  would  run  into 
the  ocean,  and  the  ocean  would  be  filled,  and 
that  would  be  the  end  of  things.  Just  as  the 
mini  who  winds  his  watch  drives  it  through  the 
next  day,  so  the  sun  winds  up  the  world.  Take 
the  wind,  again.  The  currents  of  the  air  are  pro- 
duced in  that  way,  only  in  a  more  roundabout 
manner,  and  we  can  trace  the  power  of  the  steam- 
engine,  where  we  get  our  energy  from  the  burn- 
ing of  fuel,  to  the  Min  also. 

"I  suppose  you  know  that  the  growth  of  a 
plant  is,  in  some  respects,  very  like  the  building 
of  a  tall  chimney.  The  carbonic  acid  in  the  a ir  is 
picked  to  pieces,  and  the  carbon  is  united  to  hy- 
drogen and  other  materials  and  built  up  into  an 
eirganie  structure  that  we  call  a  plant  The  work 
done  in  building  up  the  platitis  like  that  done  hy 
the  hod-carrier  in  taking  the  bricks  from  the 
ground  to  the  top.  When  the-  building  comes 
down,  if  the  bricks  are  allowed  to  fall,  they  do  in 
their  coming  down  precisely  the  same1  amount  of 
work  that  was  done  in  carrying  them  up.  So 
when  we  burn  a  tree  built  by  celestial  heat  we 
are  merely  recovering  again  the  bottled  sunshine 
thai  was  stored  away  in  that  tree  years  ago. 
Conl  is  the  sunshine  of  the  ages  long  past,  prob- 
ably. In  taut, animal  powercan  be  traced  to  the 
sain  •  source.  If  I  speak,  or  move  my  hand,  the 
energy  that  does  the  work  was  stored  away  in 
my  body  some  time  ago  by  the  taking  of  food, 
ami  Ilia!  •  >d  has  built  me  up  ill  precisely  the 
same  way  as  plants  are  made.  It  is  nothing  but 
the  aetiim  of  solar  springs,  so  to  speak,  that  en- 
ables me  to  reach  you  with  my  voice  to-night. 
There  is  hardly  any  wTork  in  the  world  that  we 
can  not.  trace  'in  this  way  to  the  power  of  the 
sun.  There  are  some  slight  and  few  exceptions, 
but  it  is  not  saying  a  word  too  much  to  say  that 
if  the  sun  should  stop  shining  to-day,  within  a 
month  all  activity  on  this  planet  would  practical- 
ly cease.  It  would  not  only  be  uninhabitable, 
bill  nothing  would  be  going  on.  There  would  be 
complete  stagnation  throughout  the  whole  uni- 
verse that  composes  the  sun's  system." 

SEWICKLKV,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  would  like  to  describe  some  of  the  doings  of 
our  Wide-awake  Club.  We  meet  at  Aunt  Eva's, 
as  we  call  our  kind  friend,  though  she  is  not  our 
real  auntie.  We  stay  at  her  house  from  seven 
to  nine  every  Thursday  evening.  We  play  games 
most  of  the  time.  We  have  a  new  game  now. 
Auntie  made  it  up  last  Thursday.  The  game  is 


this :  five  of  us  are  to  go  into  the  other  room, 
put  on  masks,  and  play  that  we  are  robbers ; 
then  we  spring  out.  on  the  rest,  who  are  passen- 
gers in  a  palace  -car.  We  ask  for  a  thing  with- 
out a  certain  letter— anything  we  please— and  if 
in  the  answer  you  put  that  letter  in,  you  have 
to  stay  under  the  table  as  a  prisoner,  and  are  not 
.allowed  to  come  out  until  all  the  rest  come 
down.  The  one  who  stays  up  the  longest  wins  the 
game.  Another  game  auntie  made  up  we  call 
"Picture-Gallery."  We  have  the  clothes-horse 
covered  with  newspapers,  in  which  holes  are  cut. 
Then  some  of  us  get  behind  it.  and  stand  so  that 
you  can  see  the  face  through  the  holes.  Then 
one  stands  up.  and  goes  from  one  to  the  other, 
and  says  funny  things,  to  see  if  he  can  not  make 
the  pictures  laugh.  We  call  him  the  showman. 
The  ones  who  keep  grave  take  turns  in  being 
showman.  The  audience  may  make  comments 
upon  them  if  they  wish. 

\Ve  have  two  artificial  owls — one  with  feathers, 
and  one  made  of  metal.  The  one  with  feathers 
is  called  Minerva,  and  the  one  of  metal  is  called 
Diogenes  Solon  Franklin  .Ksop  We  have  six  oth- 
er members  :  they  are  five  gold-fish  and  one  wa- 
ter-bug. The  largest  gold-fish  fell  on  the  floor 
this  morning,  but  it  is  not  hurt.  We  used  to  have 
six  gold-fish,  but  one  died  ;  and  we  once  had  I  wi  > 
water-bugs,  but  one  died.  This  is  all  I  can  say 
to-day,  so  good-by.  BAYARD. 

The  story  of  four  little  girls  given  next  in  the 
Post-office  Box  was  written  by  a  very  young  con- 
tributor, who  will  very  likely  weave  stories  like 
Mrs.  Lucy  C.  Lillie  and  Mrs.  W.  J.  Hays  and  other 

of  our  favorite  authors  when  she  shall  I Idcr. 

The  Postmistress  is  much  pleased  to  receive  ori- 
ginal rhymes,  compositions,  and  stories  from  her 
youthful  correspondents,  and  whenever  she  can 
she  will  publish  them  in  these  cozy  little  col- 
umns, which  are  so  popular  with  the  children : 
FOUR  LITTLE  FRIENDS. 

"Oh.  mother,  when  we  were  out  I  his  afternoon 
we  met  two  little  girls  about  our  age,  and  oh  ! 
they  wen'  dressed  beautifully,  and  I  heir  names  are 

ISO  pretty.  They  are  Averic  and  Maggie.  Please 
may  we  invite  them  to  come  and  spend  the  even- 
ing with  us  'r" 

"My  dear  children."  said  the  mother.  "  I  know 
nothing  about  these  little  girls.  Maud,  my  dear. 
!  you  are  the  eldest,  and  you  and  Ethel  should  not 
speak  to  strangers  in  the  street." 

"  But,  mamma,  they  are  very  nice  girls,  \\<  are 
sure." 

"I  should  not  like  to  let  them  come  here,  my 
dear,  unless  I  knew  their  parents  " 

The  girls  were  deeply  disappoinled.  They  had 
felt  so  sure  of  their  mother's  consent  thai  they 
hail  already  planned  what  games  they  would  play 
when  their  new  friends  came. 

Seeing  their  downcast  faces,  the  kind  mother 
said  she  would  find  out  where  Averic  and  .Mag- 
gie lived,  and  call  on  their  mother 

Maud  and  Ethel  Melville  were  very  well  brought 
up.  Their  mother  was  a  very  good  woman,  and 
very  kind  to  the  poor. 

When  Mrs.  Melville  went  to  see  the  strange 
children,  she  found  that  their  mother  was  an  in- 
valid, and  they  had  mostly  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves, so  they  wen-  very  rude  and  ignorant. 

She  offered  to  take  them  under  her  charge,  and 
their  mother  gave  them  permission  to  go.  Un- 
der Mrs.  Melville's  sweet  smiles  and  kind  words 
they  soon  became  improved.  Averic-  and  Mag- 
gii  .  indeed,  were  soon  just  like  Maud  and  Ethel. 

One  day  a  merry  little  party  set  off  to  visit  a 
pond  about  a  mile  from  the  house.  They  played 
there  awhile,  and  then  they  went  to  explore  some 
caves.  They  had  been  in  tin1  caves  about  ten 
minutes  when  Maggie  and  Maud  were  tired,  and 
asked  Mrs.  Melville  if  they  might  go  back  to  the 
pond. 

She  said  they  might. 

Off  they  went.  By-and-by  Maggie  saw  a  cer- 
tain stick.  Keaching  for  it.  she  fell  in.  Both  Mag- 
gie and  Maud  gave  a  scream.  The  pond  was  deep 
and  dangerous.  In  a  minute  Maggie  was  cover- 
ed with  water  except  her  head.  Maud  gave  an- 
other scream,  and  Mrs.  Melville  came  rushing  up 
with  the  other  children  just  as  Maggie  was  all 
covered  with  water- 
Mrs.  Melville,  regardless  of  the  danger,  plunged 
into  the  deep  pond  and  saved  Maggie,  who  was 
as  white  as  death  and  unconscious  a  long,  long, 
time. 

After  that  Maggie  was  very  ill.  and  Maud  nursed 
her  night,  and  day.  At  last  she  was  well,  and 
then  on  Christmas-days  and  birthdays  the  four 
girls  had  splendid  times  together.  "MARY  L. 


have  but  seven  in  ours,  and  a  very  happy  family 
we  are  too. 

I  have  a  married  sister,  a  brother,  and  two  of 
the 'cutest  little  nieces— Birdie  and  Daisy— living 
in  Brooklyn.  N.  Y.  They  were  here  in  the  sum- 
mer. I  would  like  to  tell  about  some  of  Daisy's 
antics.  I  have  often  thought  that  I  would  like 
to  see  the  dear  Postmistress,  or  even  her  picture, 
since  she  writes  so  kindly  to  the  little  folks,  and 
1  am  sure  the  other  readers  would  like  the  same. 

l''LORA   C.  M. 

Flora  dear,  the  moment  you  receive  this  num- 
ber of  YOUKO  PEOPLE  sit  down  directly  ami  send 
us  that  receipt.  I  specially  want  the  little  house- 
keepers to  send  their  tried  receipts,  and  I  shall 
be  on  the  watch  for  yours.  If  you  ever  come  to 

Hi klvn  to  visit  those  little  nieces,  perhaps  you 

will  take  a  trip  across  the  river  to  Franklin  Square, 
see  where  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  printed,  and  let  me 
give  you  a  kiss  for  those  pretty  words  of  affection 
to  the  Postmistress.  But  as  for  having  you  all, 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  you,  see  my  picture, 
why,  the  very  idea  makes  me  quite  faint. 

PORT  JKRVIS,  NKW  YORK 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  enjoy  your 
paper  ever  so  much.  My  papa  gave  it  to  me  fo( 
a  Christmas  present  a  year  ago.  I  thought  Ber- 
tie B.'s  letter  in  No.  1110  was  real  nice.  The  sto- 
ries I  like  best  are  "Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother."  Jim- 
my Brown's  stories,  and  "Talking  Lea\  es." 

One  day  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  house,  and 
what  do  you  think  was  in  there?  The  driver  hand- 
ed mi-  a  great  big  black  and  white  cat.  We  call 
him  Spot.  He  is  a  big  fat  fellow,  and  a  great 
hunter,  one  day  he  caught  an  owl,  and  he  has 
caught  two  or  three  squirrels.  The  woods  are 
near  us.  and  so  spot  has  a  good  opportunity  to 
go  hunting.  He  is  in  my  lap  while  I  write. 

I  have  two  sisters  and  no  brother.  I  wish  I  did 
have  i  'He.  \Ve  have  a  nut  her  eat  named  Muff  ;  it 
is  gray.  Both  cats  purr  all  the  time.  Muff  does 
not  like  snow.  \\  hen  she  is  out-doors  she  jumps 
up  to  the  window  and  mews  to  be  let  in.  spot 
is  real  pretty.  With  love- I  will  close.  K  s 


AN  ACROSTIC. 

Radie.  my  baby,  she  wonders,  I  know, 
Ai  papa  for  staying  away  from  her  so; 
Can't  understand  why  so  much  he  must  roam, 
How  always  "  bizness"  won't  let  him  come  home. 
Eyes  like  twin  vi'leis.  so  bine  and  so  bright; 
l.o\ed  little  face,  how  I  miss  it  to-night  ! 
Far  off.  in  fancy.  I  hear  o'er  and  o'er 
Her  clear  little-  feet  trotting  over  the  floor; 
Upstairs  and  down-stairs,  all  the  day  long. 
Trilling  from  rosy  lips  some  little  song; 
Coaxing  gray  kitten  to  shut  up  its  eye, 
Hanging  her  chilly's  we1!  clothes  out 'to  dry: 
Ironing,  s, -nibbing,  and  sewing  things  too— 
Ni'lu'dy  knows  what  work  she  has  to  do. 
Say.  baby,  were  you  sitting  upon  my  knee. 
One  arm  round  my  neck  as  tight  as  could  be. 
Now  how  many  kisses  would  you  give  to  mef 

PAPA. 
CHICAGO,  ILLINOIS. 


MILIBC  KV,  MAssAfiueKi-ni. 

I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  I  have1  a  little1  sister 
nine1  ye-ars  old  who  has  taken  Yorse,  PEOPLE 
about  two  months,  and  we  like  it  very  much  es- 
pecially tbe  Post-office  Hox.anel  i  thought  I  we  mid 
like  te>  write  a  letter.  I  saw  in  one  of  the  letters 
that  B.  J.  L.'s  bird  could  not  sing  withe. ut  break- 
ing down,  and  I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell 
you  what  we-  gave1  our  bird.  We-  took  a  thin 
piece  of  salt  pork  and  covered  it  with  (  aye-nnc 
pepper,  and  then  gave  it  to  the1  birel.  whose 'name 
is  Dicky,  and  he  hassling  almost  e-ver  since.  We 
have  a  little  dog  named  Tippy.  I  like  "Nan" 
very  much.  ANNA  L.  M. 

1  am  glad  the  pepper  prescription  answered  so 
well  with  Dicky.  I  once  gave  red  pepper  to  two 
little  mocking-birds  which  I  was  trying  to  raise, 
and  they  both  died.  So  if  B.  J.  L.'s  bird  is  to 
have  a  pepper  tonic,  let  it  be  given  sparingly. 


ST.  CATHARINES.  ONTARIO. 

Will  you  please  admit  a  little  Canadian  girl,  ageel 
twelve,  intei  the  Sociable?  I  do  not  often  bake-. 
but  sometimes,  when  my  big  sister  Anna  is  busy, 
mamma  lets  me  make  a  cake  or  something  te> 
help  her.  I  have  a  recipe  of  a  cake,  which  I  have 
tried  several  times,  anel  felt  very  proud  when 
mamma  and  my  brothers  praised  it.  I  wanted 
to  send  the  recipe,  that,  the  other  girls  might  try 
it.  but  mamma  saiel  you  would  not  care  about  it 
I  like  to  sweep.  During  the-  holi,la\s  I  have  oft 
en  washed  the1  dishes,  but  I  don't. 'dislike  it  as 
Rosalie  does,  though  perhapsi  would  if  I  had  to  do 
it  three  times  a  day,  and  for  a  large  family.  We 


Your  paper  is  a  weekly  visitor  at  our  house1.  I 
have  taken  it  evi-r  since  it  was  published.  I  have 
a  cat;  his  name  is  Tittens.  I  print  a  little- paper 
every  week.  I  call  it  Hickejfs  I'mmr/  FMx.  1  have 
a  serial  in  my  paper;  it  is' not  as  good  as  "Toby 
Tyler,"but  mamma  says  it  is  a  good  story  to  In- 
writ  ten  by  a  boy  nine  years  old.  I  think  the 
"Moral  Pirates"  was  a  splendid  story.  I  want 
to  write  one  as  good  as  that,  in  a  few  year*.  1 
was  in  Michigan  last,  summer,  and  collected  a 
nice  lot  of  stones  on  Little  Traverse  Bay.  I  pol- 
ished one  of  them  myself.  ALFUED  E.  D. 


SPRING  HlLt.,  VII:-.IMA 

1  have  for  pets  only  my  kitten  and  dolls.  I  live 
on  a  pretty  farm  named  Spring  Hill,  about  seven 
miles  from  Petersburg.  I  am  e-leven  >i-,-irs  of  age, 
and  have  never  been  tei  school  mm-li.'.-is  there  arc 
no  schools  near  us.  and  mamma  thinks  I  am  too 
young  to  be  sent  to  a  boarding-school  yet.  Mam- 
ma ii  aches  me  at  home  herself.  I  think  V.M  \.. 
PEOPLE  is  the  best  paper  for  boys  and  girls  in  the 


JANUARY  so,  isss. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


207' 


wnrlil.    Hike  the  story  of  "Nan"  very  much,  and 

hope  tlmt  tin-  nrxt  serial  storj  will  be  as  inter- 
esting     I   noticed  that   you  said  all  girls  who 

xx.ii 1 1<.  join  tin'  Bousekeepera  Social  I"  must 

.THI!  in  their  names  :  so  please  put  mine  down 
I  mii-i  tell  jrou  about  my  i  bristra  is  presents. 

one  was  a  writing-desk,  one  a  I L.  and  1  had 

..ilnT  thini-.     I  hope  that  you  hail  a  merry 

Christmas  and  a  aappy  New-Year.         M  ui-.c.. 

it  is  x,r\  pleasant  to  be  taught  at  home  by  a 
d.-ar  mamma,  and  I  am  glad  little  Mail-  does  not 
liav,-  to  go  away  Io  a  di-tunt  school,  wl.. 
would  very  likely  be  lonely  and  homesick. 


. 

We  have  taken  almost  every  number  of  MAR- 
I'Flt's  YOI-M:  1'Kopi.i:.  and  I  like  it  very  llllieii. 

|, axe  lieen   sick   for   1 1 1 r r  lour  daxs.  but    am 

alile  to  sit  up  in  tlie  lied  now.     I  have   in 

v  our  last  paper  through;  it  is  very  pood.     I  like 

ir  lieiter  xx  hen  /  read  it  than  when  I  ha\e  it  read 

III  me 

I   like  to  draw  so  well:     I  draw  a  gre., 
and   almost    all  my  pictures   I   draw   from    the 
Voi-si.  I'nu'i.i;      I  am  twelve  y<  <  -'  ndj 

|.-ittl,  Reader,  arithmetio,  language,  spelling,  and 
,phy      I  will  linish  geography  this  winter. 

I  hax  e  a  M  -i IT  foiirte.ai  x  ear  s  i.id.  and  a  brother 
nine  years  old  We  have  a  piano,  whiell  I  enjoy 
pl-iyiii"  on  very  mueli  Mx  sister  and  I  have 

,n-  on  it.     We  have  six  birds,  five-  of 

which  are  eaiiaries  ;  the  other  is  a  wild  bird  from 

tl,,.  w Is       \Ve  got  il  before  it  had  any  feathers, 

an  1  led  it  on  hard-boiled  eggs       l!   i-  -''  •«"  '"'"'• 

and  has  laid  two  green, spotted  eggft.bul  o 

bird    Charley    ate    them    both       \\  e    had    a    little 
-.pi, tied  bird  onee  that  was  the  prettiest    I  ever 
.eept    the   two    white    ones    we   have    How- 
It    hum;  itself  in   the  wires  .if  the  cage,  and   I 


saw.  and  very  good  to  me.  I  attend  a  college 
near  here,  and  study  Latin.  i;reek.  algebra,  phi- 
losophx.  /oolciL'y.  and  other  things  ( 'larrie  ilier 
right  name  is  Clarice)  has  studi.-ti  Latin,  and  she 
helps  me  lots,  she  has  grudna:  butshe 

keeps  <>u  with  her  studies,  ami  takes  i;cnnaii  and 
Italian,  and  reads  Virgil  to  keep  her  Latin  from 
gettiiii;  ' 

\\  lienever  I  bring  any  of  the  box  s  In. me  -he  is 

just   as  sxv.-et  and   polite  To   them  as   eall   be.  and 

every  f.-lloxv  in  college  adores  her.  She  is  a  groat 
belle,  and  some  of  the  boys  about  eighteen  or 
twenty  yea! -s  old.  \\  iio  would  not  be  expected  to 
rare  for' my  society,  as  I  am  younger,  often  conn- 

home  with  n.  -  g :  i as  il  I  '-'•    n 

their  own  age 

1  have  two  pretty  aunls.  who  are  very  joung. 
Aunt   Sue  is  the  jolly  one.  Aunt    Flo  is  the  goo  1 

n.the  other  eighteen. 

f.    •  class  i t  wroti          •    irerses  one*    t' ' 

i  larrli  .  b,  .•inning: 

"Beautiful  eyes  of  a/.ure  hue, 
Brown  hair  all  of  a  curl. 

And  here  yon   have  set    bet,, IT   you 
Mx    bl  -in    ni.  Ell   "1    a    girl." 

There  was  a  lot  more     about   four  pages  in  all 
and  Clarrie  laughed  heartily  at  it.        ROYAL  M. 

\  In  iy  with  a  pretty  sistcrand  two  pretty  aunts, 
like  yours,  ought  to  be  a  perfect 


buried  il  in  the  garden. 


M.  \V. 


. 

\Ve  live  In  the  country, and  go  to  sol l  in  Tab 

lassee  three  miles  from  home     It  is  a  pretu  and 

pietures,|iie  village  Tin  re  are  lour  ot  US,  and 
Wi-  drive  to  school  in  a  little  spring  wagon,  and 
b  ive  a  merry  time.  We  cross  a  creek,  which  in 
summer  is  beautiful  for  wading,  our  teacher 
ttave  us  a  lovely  Christinas  tree  the  da>  ' 

school  1 1 -rm  eloseil.  We  trimmed  our  home  with 
holly  and  evergreen,  and  had  a  Christmas  tree  at 

li I latin   I'  hxed  il    ill  the  parlor  for  Santa 

Claus  to  visit   us      I  have  a  lovely  little  baby  sis 

ter  and  brother    twins:  thej  are  Just  as  sweet 

a-  BWeet  can  be  I  think  "  Nan"  is  a  splendid 
storj  :  I  can  hardly  wail  from  one  week  until 
another  Io  get  my  papeii  1  hope  you  will  pub- 
lish this  Idler,  as  it  is  my  Brst.  I  forgol  Io  I,  ,1 
you  of  our  pranks  on  Christmas  eve  of  putting 
holly  leaves  under  the  ~h.-el.and  tying  string-  to 

our  toes  and  then  to  the  bed.  to  awaken  us  when 
we  turned  oxer.  Ibat  we  might  be  the  lirst  up 
Christina-,  morning. 

\\  isidng  you,  dc-ar  Postmistress,  a  happy  New- 
Year,  I  am  your  friend,  LIBIIII    -   I. 


N  I          -lKIl*KV. 

1  am  quite  a  little  carpenter,  and  ju-t  a  week 

bcli. re     1  ol    •..,     Pi. OPI   V    came     with    the    st", 

inghoxv  Io  make  a  tool  chest  1  had  made  one  for 
myself  and  1  have  thirty-two  r.  gul  ir  oat  neuter's 

II   MiltV    W.   1). 

It    i-    yerj    pleasant    to    have    about   a    home   a 
handy    boy   who   can   use  tools,  :;nd   lakes   g I 

can-  of  them     [  suppose  If  a  gate  does  not  hang 
•-in.  or  a    picture  needs  a   nail,  or  sister 
wants  a  work  box.  Ham   is  the  person  to  attend 
to  the  work. 


r IMI.P  v.  s..i  -MI  r 01  .r      •, 
We  take   IlxlU'l.c.'s  YOI-XI:  Pi.on.t .  and   like  it 

very  much  hid I.  and  have  persuaded  -ex 

,.ui-  Irionds  to  take  it  too  U  6  live  rerj  nc.o 
llobkirk  Hill,  the  scene  of  a  bl jv  conflict  dur- 
ing the  Revoluttonarj  war, and  within  n  atom  '- 
throw  of  the  stream  where  Gates'S  army  Mir 
pris,.,|  the  I'.rilish  while  washing  Iheir  clothes. 

It   has  1 n   made  a   very  beautiful   pla I  late 

years  The  stream  runs  into  a  valley,  and  forms 
a  lovely  pond,  dotted  over  with  little  islands, 
which  join  the  shore  by  little  fancy  bridges  in 

some    places;    sleep    hills    rise    on    each    side,  and 

on  the  south  it  is  terra 1  doxvn  to  the  water's 

cd lovely  roses  climb  over  the  stately  oaks 

and  graceful  evergreens  ,,u  every  side;  \\ilioxvs 

dip  their  dainty  sprays  in  the  water  it  i-  agti  al 
resort  in  summer,  and  used  for  a  bathing  place. 
The  school-children  wade  in  the  stream. 

When  I  next  write  I  will  tell  some  other  bis 
toii,  al  items  about  our  little  old  fashioned  town. 

MINNA  B. 


11   i     i    X  ic.aM.i. 

Phase  tell  me  where  .Jimmy  Hrown  lives;   I 
to  write  to  him  and  ask  bun  if  he  really  has 

1   \\isli  YofNi;   I'l.ol'l  1.   \\ollld   collie 

oftener  than  every  week,  as  1  am  impatient  to 

nad      \  MI         Mx   papa,  who  writes  down  this 

letter  just  as  I  tell  Kim.  ha-  a  friend  named  .lim 

thai  i-  the  reason  «  hy  he  al 

enjoys   the  .linimy   Ilroxvu   stories  just    as 
mu'eh  as  [dtl       I   make  up  a  L'reat    niaiix   storic-s. 
which  my  mamma  says  arc  xery  fiiniix      s, 
when  1  can  xx  rite  a  ejood  band  I  max  send  a  story 
t,,   Joi   •-'•    l'i  "i''  i         i    haxc    no  pets-not    . 

eat    inn  our  i"  cl  door  neighbor  has  '/()•••.  whieh, 
as  Jimmy  Ifrowu  would  say,  is " morenough  " 

AI.LIE  B.  B. 


CRSTIIKX-II.LF.  Cn  11    ,I:M  , 

I  have  taken  II  xni-i  n'-  YorM;  I'KOIM.K  since  tin 

tii-st  number,  and  find  it  very  interesting.  Manv 
oi  the  boys  and  u'irls  write  to  you  about  their 
pet-  I  have  none,  unless  it  is  my  little  brother 
.hist  i  is.  who  i-  six  -.ear-  i, M.  He  says  many  fllll- 

nv  thiic-s  \ot  x  en-  IOIIL'  au'o  the  Justice  of  the 
i-  u  e  had  a  dirtieulty  with  a  man.  xvhich  ended 
in  bloxvs  i  mi-  excniiiL-  we  were  speaking  of  the 

improprieu  el  a  .luslici  of  the  I'caee  strikini;  a 
man.  when  nix  Father  said.  "  \  jusliec  must  not 
strike"  At  this,  my  little  brother  broke  out 
:  n't  strike  anybody,  and  ain't  a  piece 
of  a  boy  either:  1  am  a  whole  bOJ  "  It  was  -ex 

iye  before  ho  found  out  what  my  father 
really  meant.  KATIE  o. 

M..I-VT  V«HN.IV,  NF.XV  V..I.K. 

I  want  to  tell  yon  something.  Itisalxmt  what 
my  mother  found  in  a  potato  the  other  dax  It 
was  D  L'roiinil-nut  about  half  an  inch  in  diame- 
ter- il  had  a  shell,  which  was  covered  with  short 
hairs.  I  would  like  to  know  if  any  other  of  your 
readers  ever  found  ground-nuts  in  potatoes! 

OLD  PUTNAM'S  PET. 


PHILA 


.  . 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  and  have  a  lit- 
tle sister  four.  1  go  to  school  when  1  am  well. 
Inn  have  been  sick  a  great  oeal  this  winter,  first 
with  bronchitis,  and  now  the  croup,  and  I  can  not 
L-O  out.  I  have  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  I'KOPI.K 
for  over  a  year,  and  like  it  very  much.  I  love  to 
have  it  read  to  me.  I  can  read  some  of  it  mx  sell  , 
and  am  learning  to  write  too. 

I  like  "Nan"  very  much,  hut  I  like  to  hear  the 
letters  read  too.  and  hope  you  will  put  this  in. 

Isn't  Jimmy  Brown  a  funny  boy? 

our  cat's  name  is  Grant,  and  our  bird  is  Beau- 
ty Wo  had  a  little  visitor  the  other  evening. 
A  little  sparrow  tapped  at  the  window.  We  let 
him  in,  and  he  staid  all  night.  In  the  morning 
we  let  him  fly  out-  the  window.  EDDIE  H.  B. 


B ,  NKW  YORK. 

I  am  less  fortunate  than  many  boys,  as  !  have 
no  parents  living.  But  I  have  a  sister.  She  is  the 
best,  dearest,  sweetest,  and  prettiest  girl  I  ever 


SCHENECTADY,  N'EXX- 


SCHENECTA  I>Y,   nBW     l"Kh. 

Here  is  a  little  incident  which,  contrary  to  the 
usual  school-boy  story,  has  the  laugh  on  the  oth- 


er side. 

In  one  of  the  higher  departments  o.  the  large 
sd 1  in  the  city  of  S.  there  had  been  some  com- 
petition between  teacher  and  scholars  as  to  who 
should  rule  It  was  not  yet  decided  when  a  new 
teacher,  apparently  quite  inexperienced,  entered 
the  Held. 


would  receive  the  dismissal.  The  classes  were 
called,  and  the  scholars  waiting  attentively. \x  hen 
Miss.M.  distinctly  heard  the  word  "  Donkey"  from 
some  one  on  tin-  sreoinl  bench.  She  turned  her 
eyes  upon  the  culprit  He  was  already  thinking 
of  the  disgrace  to  follow,  and  was  ready  tor  any 
escape.  It  came. 

"Master    I.,   \\ere  you  talking  to   yourself?" 
calmly  asked  Miss  M.,  her  eyes  twinkling. 

"  Yes,  ma'am."  \\  as  the  ready  rcplx 

He  was  not  dismissed,  but  the  shot  went  home. 


NKM    X     i       ClTl 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  a  in  I  baxe  tak 
en  H.xnriK's  VM  \<.  1'iori.t;  for  i \\ o  years,  and 
like  it  very  much.  I  bad  a  jolly  time  on  Christ 
mas.  (  Inistmas  morning  when  I  invoke  I  found 
mx  stocking  as  full  as  it  could  be  Santa  Claus 
was  very  good  to  me,  and  brought  me  a  lovely 
big  gun.  and  ex  eryt  hing  else  I  xvanted. 

Please  tind  Inclosed  »-'  for  Young  People's  Cot, 
vx  liieh  I  hax'c  been  sax'ing  for  a  long  time. 

Your  little  friend.  II.  D.  W. 

Your  contribution  has  been  sent  Io  Miss  Fall- 
sha we,  treasurer  of  the  fund  for  Youm:  people's 
Cot.  and  you  xvill  sec  it  acknowledged,  with  your 
name  in  full,  in  her  next  report. 


PUZZLKS  FKo.M  YOI Mi  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

TWO    KASV    DIAMONDS. 

!._].  \  letter  •_•  \  piece  of  furniture.  3.  A 
jewel.  I.  Not  wel.  .">.  A  li  ti.-r. 

2.— 1.  A  letter.  ','.  An  animal.  3.  A  fruit.  I  An 
animal.  ."'.  A  letter.  .1.  A 


AN    ACUOSTIC. 

M  ,    in  -t  i-  a  city  in  china. 

M\    -  oond   is  a  river  in  the  northern  part  o{ 

\-la 

Mx   third  is  a  city  ol  Italy. 

Mv  loiirlh  is  a  country  in  Knropc. 

Mx  lil'th  is  a  city  in  Tunis. 

Mx  sixth  is  a  city  in  Nova  Scotia. 

My  seventh  is  a  city  in  lira/.il. 

My  ci-hib  is  a  city  in  Tripoli. 

My  ninth  is  a  city  in  the  Russian  Umpire. 

Mx  tenth  is  a  city  in  Tennessee. 

My  eleventh  is  a  cily  in  the  northeastern  part 

ol     \ -la 

My  twelfth  is  a  river  in  Italy. 
My  thirteenth  is  a  city  in  Ireland. 
Mx  loiirl  eontli  is  a  cily  in  Illinois. 
Mx  xx  hole  is  a  city  in  Southern  Kurope. 

ll.xiun    W.  H. 


No.  :!, 

M    XII   l:n    XI.    KNIIiMA. 

1  am  a  ci  lebrated  edilicc.and  am  composed  ol 

Hi  letters. 

Mx  s.  i.  p.,.  ii  is  a  In-avenly  body. 

MX  I-,MI.:>.  iiiisa  large  body  of  men. 

My  '•>,  'I.  a  is  a  boy's  nickname. 

My  1 1.  I'-'.  I  is  a  winged  creature. 

Mx  5,  I'',  7'  is  a  human  being. 

Mx    13,2,  in.  I  is  a  vegetable. 

My  1.  -'.  :j,  I  is  a  direction.  Josi;pu  O. 


ANSWKRS  TO  PCZZLKS   IX  No.  HIT. 


No.  1. 


No.-'. 


S    T    A    N    11 

T  Y  i:  O 
ART 
X  o 
D 


TRAMP 
ROBE 
A   B   S 
M  E 
P 


P    ec    K 

O  dess  A 
L  eo  N 
K  at  E 

Z  A  X 
ALL 
AGE 
RED 
A  K  M 
S  I  X 
SAM 


No.  4. 


SPOT 
PAPA 
OPAL 

TALL 


RACES 
AGILE 
CIVIL 
ELIZA 
S  E  L  A  H 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Joseph  P.  Bolton.  Meila  chase.  Fanny  Hass- 
ler,  John  Dix.  Elina  T..  Charlie  Backus,  George 
Ringgold  "  Far-away  Reader."  Jennie  Fay,  Mar- 
garet Johnson.  St.  Clare  Meekes,  Royal  P..  Max 
Heiser.  Jack  and  Tlieo,  C.  P.  S.,  Louisa  J.,  Willie 
W.,  and  Harry  Powell. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  Sd  parjci  ofcmer.] 


208 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


TOMMY." 


EATIXG  CROW. 

Mi:.  (  now.  "Are  you  the  Boy  who  said  I  was 
Bliu-k  ?    Jiucause.  if  you  are — '' 

TALEBE.VRKR.  "  N-n-o-o-o.    I  always  thought  you 
were  \V-w-h-h-i-i-te." 

[Tin I,  K  a  in- nt  i/inriii  /ix.^ii,  attached  to  this, 
if  any  out  cnn  ttiitd  It  out. 


writer's 
house  being 
overrun  by  bee- 
tles, caterpillars, 
anil  various  pests 
in  the  way  of  in- 
sects, and  other 
efforts  to  get  rid 
of  them  having 
proved  useless,  be 
applied  to  a  farm- 
er friend  to  sup- 
ply him  with  a 
hedgehog,  which 
he  has  now  had 
about  four  years. 
During  the  first 
year,  Tommy,  as 
the  cook  christen- 
ed him.  ret  ired  for 
about  two  months 
to  a  bed  of  with- 
ered grass  vmder- 


as  he  mounts  the  step  and  walks  in.  Country  boys  on  meeting 
with  a  hedgehog  but  too  often  think  it  a  duty  at  once  to  kill 
the  poor  creature,  utterly  ignorant,  like  many  bigger  boys  and 
older  men,  of  the  services  such  animals  perform  in  the  economy 
of  creation. 


THE  RESTING  WAND. 

T  is  necessary  in  playing  the  Kesting  Wand  that  at  least  two 
people  should  be  acquainted  with  the  mystery  attached  to 
it,  and  that  they  should  make  an  arrangement  beforehand  to 
understand  each  other's  movement*.  One  of  these  two  per- 
sons is  blindfolded,  and  placed  with  his  back  to  the  company, 
while  his  companion,  with  a  staff  in  his  hand,  stands  facing 
them.  The  latter  of  the  two  then  begins  an  animated  conver- 
sation with  his  friends,  trying  when  talking  to  them  to  make 
frequent  mention  of  their  names.  Stopping  occasionally,  he 
touches  some  one  with  the  wand,  saying  at  the  same  time  to 
his  friend  who  is  blindfolded,  "On  whom  does  the  wand  rest?" 
Strangers  to  the  game  will  not  all  at  once  perceive  that  the  \\  and 
is  always  made  to  rest  on  the  person  who  was  the.  last  but  one 
to  speak,  and  that  it  is  on  account  of  this  arrangement  that  the 
blinded  person  is  able,  to  mystify  his  friends  by  answering  corr 
rectlj  the  question,  "On  whom  does  the  wand  rest '!" 


neath  the  rain  tub  in  the  yard, 
according  to  the  custom  of  his 
kind  in  winter.  Before  this,  how- 
ever, he  had  a  plentiful  supply 
of  beetles,  which  might  serve  to 
sustain  him  for  many  a  day.  He 
lived  in  a  closet  underneath  the 
staircase,  from  which  he  sallied 
forth  into  his  hunting  ground, 
the.  kitchen.  As  with  other 
beasts  of  prey,  this  occurred  dur- 
ing the  dead  hours  of  the  night. 

When  beetles  became  scarce, 
however,  his  operations  were 
watched  by  the  dim  gas-light, 
and  if  was  evident  that  he  was 
guided  more  by  scent  than  sight. 
He  worked  the  lloor  as  a  pointer 
dog  works  his  held;  and  when 
he  crossed  the  trail  of  a  beetle, 
even  a  fe\v  inches  from  him,  he 
became  excited,  and  putting  his 
nose  to  the  fresh  scent,  followed 
up  his  prey.  Further  evidence 
of  this  habit  was  observed  by 
watching  him  at  a  crevice  in  the 
floor.  Discovering  by  smell  that 
his  game  was  there,  he  inserted 
his  hind-leg — the  front  one  pro- 
bably being  too  short  —  and 
grasping  the  black  beetles  with 
his  claws,  dragged  them  out  one 
by  one  and  gave  them  quick  dis- 
patch. 

But  the  tameness  and  appar- 
ent intelligence  of  the  animal 
are  his  most,  interesting  charac- 
teristics. Me  will  eat  any  pick- 
ings he  can  get, sharing  the  1  pones 
with  the  dog,  lapping  from  his 
dish  of  water  or  milk,  not,  suck- 
ing it  up  ns  a  pig  does. 

It  is  very  remarkable  to  find 
him  "  tapping  at  the  door."  If, 
after  taking  a  stroll  in  the  back 
yard,  he  finds  the  door  of  the 
house  shut,  yon  hear  a,  gentle 
tap,  tap,  tap.  often  repeated  if 
you  don't  answer.  You  go  and 
gently  open  the  door,  and  the 
little  animal  actually  tries  to 
look  you  in  the  face,  by  turning 
up  its  nose  and  small  pig-like 
eyes,  which  you  at  once  inter- 
pret, "  Oh,  thank  you !  I  have 
been  waiting  here  for  some  time," 


Sp 


* 


£> 

.;.  l.--  imt--  u8 


—f  - r  \ '  >yf  •  • 

•  -    ':~.-.  V  jii..^       I        '    ;!       '     S-      r>Y 


'  •' 


-v^vvy< 
\  \  1 , 1  -         v^ 


"OH,  WHAT 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


....1........... ......... ....1.1. ......... 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY 


VOL.  IV.  -NO.  171. 


PUBUSHED  BY   IIAUI'KR  iV    I '.  I U  >T  I !  K I  iS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


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!«•  Inking  turns  like  boys  on  a  slid- 
ing pond.  They  would  crawl  up 
1o  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  thru  go 
Hying-  down  on  to  the  ice  and  into  ;i 
hole  caused  l>y  ihe  escape  of  the  air. 
This  they  repeated  continually,  and 
seemed  1o  he  enjoying  themselves 
immensely. 

Jack  vast  he  lirst  to  speak.    "Isn't 


TILE  QUEER  LITTLE  ANIMALS  THAT  SLIDE 
DOWN- HILL. 

J3Y     "W.     IVI.     GARY. 

TACK  and  his  friend  Larry  were  making-  their  way 
through  the  woods  one  winter  afternoon  to  look  at  a 
rabbit  trap  that  Jack  had  set  a  few  days  before.  As  they 
reached  the  edge  of  a  little  pond  they  saw  something  that 
made  them  stare  at  each  other  with  open-eyed  astonish- 
ment. 

At  a  little  distance  from  them,  on  a  bank  slippery  as 
glass,  were  three  small  animals  which  they  had  never 
seen  before,  sliding  down-hill  on  their  stomachs,  with  their 
short  legs  stretched  straight  out  behind.  They  seemed  to 


that  most  extraordinary*''  he  said,  laughing;  "and  if  I 
am  not  crazy,  those  two  little  fellows  at  the  top  of  the 
slide  are  certainly  quarrelling  about  whose  turn  comes 
next,  just  as  Joe  Dempsey  and  Pete  Crane  were  doing  the 
other  day." 

At  that  moment  Larry  reached  out  and  broke  a  twig  to 
get  a  better  view  of  them.  It  made  a  loud  snapping  noise, 
and  away  went  the  three  little  creatures  down  the  slide 
into  the  water,  and  that  was  the  last  to  be  seen  of  them. 

"  Why  didn't  we  shoot  them  ''."  said  Jack. 


210 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  said  Larry. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Jack,  and  they  both  laughed  to  think 
how  stupid  they  had  been. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  are  ?  We  must  hurry  home,  for 
it  is  getting  late,  and  tell  Grandpa.  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  he  will  be  able  to  tell  us  all  about  them." 

On  reaching  home  they  found  tin;  old  couple  sitting 
down  to  tea,  not  knowing  when  the  boys  would  be  home. 
They  told  Grandpa  all  about  it. 

"Now  what  do  you  call  these  little  animals?''  asked 
Larry. 

"Why."  said  Grandpa,  clearing  his  throat,  "they  are 
otters.  They  must  have  been  young  ones  that  you  saw. 
The  old  ones  grow  sometimes  to  be  five  or  six  feet  long 
from  the  nose  to  the  tip  of  the  tail;  but  they  are  very  sly 
and  are  very  difficult  to  catch.  They  are  very  expert 
swimmers,  and  are  always  found  where  there  is  plenty  of 
trout  and  salmon,  which  they  feed  upon. 

"Old  t nippers  say  that  they  are  the  wisest  of  animals, 
being  even  more  sagacious  than  the  fox.  I  have  trapped 
them;  and  disguise  your  trap  as  you  will,  the  chances  are 
that  they  will  find  it  out,  and  get  the  bait  without  spring- 
ing it.  They  will  sometimes  even  drag  it  a  considerable 
distance,  chain  and  all.  The  young  ones  are  very  playful, 
but  the  old  ones  are  always  on  guard  to  protect  them  and 
give  the  alarm  when  danger  is  near. 

"Their  skins  are  very  valuable,  owing  to  the  beauty 
and  fineness  of  the  fur,  and  the  growing  scarcity  of  the 
animals.  Large  sums  are  paid  for  the  skins,  which  vary 
in  quality,  some  being  much  finer  than  others.  Many 
an  otter-skin  have  I  sold,  and  for  a  good  price,  for  in  my 
young  days  they  were  very  plenty  in  this  neighborhood. 
Get  that  book  upon  the  shelf  there  back  of  the  clock;  it 
is  very  worn,  but  it  will  tell  you  all  about  the  otter  fami- 
ly, and  to-morrow  I  will  take  out  my  old  rusty  traps  and 
see  if  I  can't  catch  one  for  you." 


"WHAT  SHALL  I  DREAM  ABOUT,  MAMMA  r 

BY  CIIARA  BROUGHTON. 

"WnAT  shall  I  dream  about,  mamma? 

Tell  me  some  lovely  and  pleasant  things." 
"A  green  meadow  frosted  with  daisies  white, 

Where  Imtlertlies  flutter  on  yellow  wings. 

"Dream  of  a  little  brook  that  lies 
Cradled  in  leaves  and  mossy  stones, 

Like  a  sweet  child  lying  with  half-shut  eyes, 
It  smiles  and  murmurs  in  low,  soft  tones. 

"Gently  its  waves  o'er  the  pebbles  creep, 
Anon  it  will  dance  in  the  sun's  bright  beams. 

But  now — little  rogue!  he  is  fast  asleep; 
May  the  brooklet  murmur  all  through  his  dreams!" 


A  VISIT  TO  MUSCAT. 

BY  LIEUTENANT  E.  W.  STURDY,  U.S.N. 

''  TTERE  we  are!"  said  Captain  Fairweather,  standing 
XT  on  the  quarter-deck,  as  the  ship  entered  the  harbor 
of  Muscat. 

"  Why,  so  we  are,"  cried  Tom.  "I  never  should  have 
believed  it.  I  thought  there  were  nothing  but  rocks,  and 
here  is  a  town.  But  what  a  funny  little  harbor !" 

As  this  was  said  the  vessel  rounded  the  great  rock, 
cousin  to  the  one  at  Gibraltar,  and  steamed  into  the  cove. 
A  fort  on  a  high  cliff  commanded  one  end  of  the  harbor; 
a  fort  on  an  opposite  cliff  commanded  the  other  end. 
Back  of  the  town  were  other  fortified  towers,  so  that  Mus- 
cat bristled  with  more  defenses  than  one  would  suppose 
necessary  for  the  capital  of  the  little  Arabian  Kingdom  of 
Oman. 

"Not  a  very  attractive  place,"  said  Captain  Fairweather. 
"It  looks  to  me  as  though  it  had  been  thrown  up  by  an 
earthquake,  and  indeed  all  these  rocks  are  of  volcanic  ori- 
gin. They  must  be  between  four  and  five  hundred  feet 


high.  These  precipitous  cliffs  make  the  little  harbor 
look  smaller  than  it  really  is.  In  fact,  it  only  measures  a 
1  half-mile  one  way  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  other.  It 
is  completely  open  to  the  north,  you  see,  from  where  we 
entered,  and  when  the  northwest  monsoon  blows  the  sea. 
comes  in  with  great  fury.  But  the  harbor  is  entirely  shel- 
tered from  every  other  wind." 

"  How  awfully  close  together  the  houses  are  built,  fa- 
ther !" 

"Yes,  everything  seems  to  have  been  built  with  an  eye 
to  defense.  Look  at  that  wall  011  the  land  side  strength- 
ened by  eight  lowers.  Altogether  the  Muscatiues  ought  to 
feel  tolerably  safe  from  their  enemies." 

"When  are  we  going  ashore  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"We  might  have  time  for  a  little  stroll  now  before 
dark.''  said  the  Captain,  consulting  his  watch. 

Accordingly  father  and  son  were  pulled  ashore.      "I 
never  did  see  such  narrow  streets,"  Tom  said.      "  Try.  fa- 
ther, whether  you  can't  touch  the  walls  011  each  side  as 
you  walk  along.     There!     I  knew  you  could.      Are  all 
I  the  streets  as  narrow,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Yes,  so  I  am  told.  Let  me  see — this  street  should 
lead  to  the  suburbs.  There  the  streets  are  wider,  hut  we 
have  not  the  time  to  go  there  to-night.  The  Beloochees  live 
there  in  very  primitive  dwellings,  built  of  sticks  and  mats. 
How  odd  it  is  to  see  no  horses  or  mules  or  camels  in  the/ 
streets !  People  have  to  foot  it  here.  Two  men  can  hard- 
ly pass  each  other  without  jostling." 

"The  people  are  all  different  shades  of  brown,  scareely 
tvvo  alike.  How  does  that  happen  ?"  asked  Tom. 

"Muscat  is  made  up  of  half  a  dozen  different  nationali- 
ties. Besides  the  Arabs  there  are  Kanians  from  Western 
India,  Beloochees  from  Mekran,  Abyssinians,  Somalies. 
Nubians,  and  Persians.  But  I  see  no  white  faces  thus  far.'' 

In  fact,  the  Captain  learned  afterward  that  in  a  popu- 
lation of  40,000  there  were  but  two  Europeans,  one  the 
Political  Agent,  and  the  other  a  merchant  in  a  large  \\a\ 
of  business,  the  agent  of  the  British  India  Company. 

"I  must  send  word  to  his  Highness  Sayyicl  Toorki.  the 
Sovereign  of  Oman,  that  we  are  here."  said  Captain  Fair- 
weather,  011  their  way  back  to  the  ship.  "I  suppose  Ins 
Highness  will  ask  us  to  call.  Would  YOU  like  to  see  him 

Tom  r 

"Indeed  I  should,"  answered  the  lad. 

Information  of  the  ship's  arrival  was  sent  to  the  Sover- 
eign, who  immediately  appointed  an  audience  for  the  of- 
ficers on  the  following  day  at  four  o'clock.  The  officers, 
were  also  invited  to  go  over  the  forts,  where  preparations, 
were  made  to  receive  them,  and  several  native  officers  or- 
dered to  accompany  them  on  their  tour  of  inspection. 

Their  way  led  through  various  business  streets,  where 
it  was  a  hard  enough  matter  for  them  to  see  their  way. 
these  streets  being  roofed  in  at  a  height  of  some  twenty 
feet  by  poles  or  frames,  on  which  were  laid  mats  plas- 
tered over  with  mud.  The  only  light  that  found  its  way 
in  was  through  an  occasional  hole  broken  in  the  mud. 

"  It  is  like  walking  in  the  catacombs,"  said  Tom,  draw- 
ing on  his  imagination,  for  he  had  never  been  in  Eome. 

"It  is  not  as  close  as  one  might  expect,  however,"  said 
his  father.  "  They  sprinkle  earth  and  ashes  around  plen- 
tifully, and,  besides,  the  heat  of  the  outside  atmosphere 
causes  an  upward  current  through  the  holes,  which  venti- 
lates the  streets  somewhat.  But,  comfortable  or  uncom- 
fortable, these  people  seem  to  be  driving  a  nourishing- 
trade  m  their  under-ground  stalls." 

"What  a  lot  of  dates  one  sees,  father!  thev  seem  to  be- 
in  every  stall." 

"  Yes,  they  are  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  trade  Tliey 
11  a  great  deal  of  their  hulwa  besides.  Her,-  is  some  of 
it,"  and  the  Captain  bought  some,  and  handed  it  to  Tom 
to  taste. 

"  It  isn't  half  bad,"  said  Tom.      "  What  is  it  made  of  2" 

The  man  of  whom  they  bought  it  replied  to  this  ques- 


FEBRUARY  u,  Iss::. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


211 


lion  in  broken  English:  "Not  the  camel  milk."  said  lie. 
•'Sonic  says  so,  hut  not  so:  ghee,  clat  is  butler,  sugar 
and  sesame.  Fruit,  sir:  vegetables  '.  Yer\  line,  sir!" 

He  \vas  right — they  were  very  line.  Apparently  the 
living  in  Muscat  was  good.  Kvery  one  looked  well  fed, 
and  eleaii  too.  There  were  no  beggars,  and.  what  is  more, 
no  si|iialor. 

"Those  Arabs  look  as  though  they  were  out  on  the 
w  ar- path."  remarked  Tom.  staring  about  him.  "Their 
girdles  are  stuck  full  of  pistols  and  daggers;  and  there 
are  some  fellow  s  armed  with  guns." 

"But  there  goes  the  most  formidable  weapon."  said 
his  father,  indicating  a  man  standing  in  front  of  them. 
"That  sword  he  carries  is  a  two  handed  one.  with  which 
an  experienced  swordsman  could  actually  cut  his  ad\er 
sar\  in  two  at  a  blow.  The  small  round  shield  that  man 
carries  over  bis  shoulder  i-.  made  of  rhinoceros  hide." 

"The  Arabs  look  so  slight  and  thin  !  Is  that  the  reason 
lhe\  go  armed  to  the  teeth  '." 

"They  are  forniidahlc  sword., men,  I  can  tell  you. 
What  is  more,  they  are  all  nearly  six  feet  tall,  I  should 
say.  but  they  carry  very  little  superfluous  tlesh.  That  is 
the  reason  they  look  puny  in  comparing  them,  for  in- 
stance, with  the  burly  negroes  who  do  the  rough  work  of 
the  place." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  I  he  forts,  w  Inch  the\  e\ 
amined  at  their  leisure.  Tom  picking  up  various  scraps  of 
history  meanwhile.  He  learned  that  (  linan  had  preserved 
a  sort  of  rude  independence  since  the  eighth  century. 
Oman,  b\  the  way.  is  about  the  si/e  of  Kngland.  It  has 
had  to  struggle  for  its  existence  with  the  predatory  tribes 
around  it  from  time  to  time,  but  it  has  contrived  to  hold 
its  own. 

Once  an  Knglish  gun  boat  was  called  upon  to  lire  over 
the  town  at  a  crowd  of  Bedouins  who  were  Irving  to  force 
in  entrance  into  Muscat  for  the  purpose  of  sacking  it. 
The  shells  created  great  consternation,  ibe  Arabs  never 
having  seen  such  missiles  before.  They  thought  the 
shells  hail  eyes  which  guided  them  on  their  mission  of  de- 
struction. One  shell  fell  ill  a  Held,  and  did  not  explode. 
It  was  immediately  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  excited 
Bedouins,  who  determined  to  put  out  the  eye  ilhe  perciis 
sioii  fuse).  They  struck  I  he  eye  with  their  lances,  where- 
upon the  shell  exploded,  and  killed  eleven  of  them  on  the 

spot.     Then  the  marauders  departed, 

On  their  way  back  to  town  they  passed  rows  of  dwell- 
ing-houses. These  were  all  two  stories  and  soinel  iine.s 
three  stories  high. 

The  upper  stories  were  all  divided  into  innumerable 
openings  by  Ions'  narrow  windows,  through  which  the  air 
passed  freely.  The  ground-floors  were  used  as  lumber- 
rooms.  The  roofs  are  the  bed-chambers. 

During  the  hot  season  110  one  can  possibly  sleep  in-doors 
on  account  of  the  stilling  heat.  When  the  shumal,  or  hot 
wind  from  the  desert,  blows  over  Muscat,  the  sleepers  are 
watered  like  plants.  In  consequence  they  have  muscular 
rheumatism  in  Muscat. 

Captain  Fail-weather's  party  included  an  intelligent 
Arab  interpreter,  who  now  pointed  out  to  them  the  Say- 
yid's  palace  (dose  at  hand. 

"Some  people  call  his  Highness  the  Imam  of  Muscat," 
said  he,  "but  that  is  wrong:  he  is  the  Sovereign  of 
Oman." 

The  street  in  which  the  palace  stood  was  full  of  armed 
men,  Arabs  and  Beloochees,  his  Highness's  body-guard. 
In  answer  to  the  interpreter's  knock  at  a  ponderous  gate  a 
wicket  was  opened,  and  they  were  invited  to  enter  through 
a  small  doorway  in  the  great  gate.  They  found  them- 
selves in  a  court-yard  around  which  the  palace  was  built, 
u  very  simple  two-storied  edifice.  To  their  left,  close  to 
the  gateway,  was  a  good-sized  room,  in  which  reclined  a 
splendid  African  lion,  his  apartment  being  barred  off 
from  the  court. 


The  royal  brute  regarded  the  strangers  with  a  certain 
dignified  curiosity. 

"  He  is  here  to  awaken  emotions  of  awe  in  the  visitor's 
breast.  1  suppose,"  said  Tom's  father.  "From  one  king 
to  another,  eh  '." 

Perhaps  in  order  to  heighten  the  same  impression,  a 
leopard  occupied  a  cage  in  the  centre  of  the  court  \ard. 
The  animal  kingdom  was  furthermore  represented  by 
ein'ht  or  ten  Arab  mares  of  great  beauty  and  value:  their 
grooms  lay  about  them  on  the  pavement,  looking  compara- 
tively iiisignilicant. 

The  ascent  to  the  audience  chamber  was  sullicienl  I  \ 
primitive  up  a  large  ladder  with  a  hand-rail.  At  the 
top  of  this  Tom  and  his  friends  found  themselves  in  a 
sort  of  whitewashed  antechamber,  in  which  half  a  do/en 
Arabs  were-  standing.  One  of  the  most  unpretending  of 
these.  ad\  ancing.  held  out  his  hand. 

1  Ms  costume  was  of  the  simplest  ;  unlike  the  others,  he 
WOre  a  white  skullcap  instead  of  a  turban  -and  this  was 
his  Highness  himself. 

He  shook  hands  with  the  party,  and  then  himself  usher- 
ed them  into  the  next  room,  the  hall  of  audience.  This 
was  also  a  plain  w  hitew  a -In  -d  room,  with  a  row  of  chairs 
ranged  against  one  side,  in  front  of  which  a  small  carpet 
was  laid.  His  Highness  motioned  them  to  sit  on  the 
chairs,  and  then  seated  himself  on  a.  sofa  a  little  apart. 
There  was  no  carpet  in  front  of  him  ;  he  put  his  sandalled 
feel  on  a  small  bed  about  four  feel  long  by  three  feet 
wide,  and  made  of  common  bed  ticking. 

Thus  sealed  at  ease,  he  conversed  through  the  inter- 
preter 

He  looked  about  thirty  live  years  of  age,  and  was  tall 
and  spare  like  most  Arabs.  His  manner  was  grave  and 
dignilied,  his  expression  melancholy.  Tom  said  to  him- 
self that  no  sovereign  could  possibly  be  more  unassuming. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  welcome  \oii  to  Muscat."  said  his 
Highness,  in  substance.  "  1  hope  you  are  well,  and  that 
the  climate  will  agree  with  yon.  Our  weather  is  called 
very  hot.  but  after  all  it  is  as  healthy  as  in  most  places. 
I  understand  you  are  making  a  voyage  around  the  world. 
I  am  extremely  interested  in  foreign  countries,  especial  ly 
in  Russia  and  Turkey.  1  shall  be  very  glad  to  obtain 
fresh  information  in  regard  to  them." 

1'poii  this  suggestion  Captain  Fa ir weather  began  to  de- 
scribe points  of  interest  in  the  countries  named.  Sayyid 
Toorki  listened  attentively,  asked  questions  here  and 
there,  anil  showed  himself  remarkably  well-informed  on 
topics  of  general  interest. 

While  the  conversation  was  in  progress  coffee  was  hand- 
ed around.  Some  minutes  later  orgeat  was  offered  the 
guests — a  preparation  of  almonds,  sugar,  and  water. 

When  they  arose  to  depart,  his  Highness  accompanied 
them  to  the  outer  room,  where  they  found  the  Governor 
of  the  town  in  waiting,  and  the  Prince  himself  presented 
his  visitors  to  the  officers,  including  Tom,  who  tried  his 
best  to  be  equal  to  the  dignity  of  the  situation. 

Finally  Sayyid  Toorki  shook  hands  all  around  once 
more,  and  so  the  interesting  interview  ended. 

"What  a  melancholy  looking  man  for  a  King,"  said 
Tom,  as  he  stepped  through  the  little  doorway  iu  the  big 
gate,  and  out  again  011  the  street  filled  with  Arabs. 

"He  has  had  a  hard  time,''  Captain  Fairweather  re- 
plied. "No  wonder  he  is  melancholy.  His  father  was 
murdered  by  his  elder  brother,  and  he  himself  spent  two 
years  in  exile  in  Bombay  before  the  opportunity  came  for 
fighting  his  brother  for  the  kingdom.  He  was  considered 
the  most  daring  soldier  in  Arabia  during  the  warfare 
which  ended  in  placing  him  on  the  throne.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  is  mildness  personified.  In  fact,  he  seems  to  lack 
the  qualities  necessary  for  controlling  the  turbulent  and 
for  organizing  Oman." 

"You  have  four  seasons  in  your  country;  we  have 
only  two  here,"  said  the  interpreter  to  Tom,  as  they  were 


212 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    ITl'Y    I  IF    ,Ml  SCAT. 

getting  into  the  boats.  "We  have  a  cool  one,  and  a  hot 
one,  which  will  come  on  presently.  Then  the  heat  will 
be  something  fearful.  The  nights  are  as  hot  as  the  days, 
for  these  black  rocks  of  ours  never  cool  off;  no  furnace 
could  be  hotter  during  the  whole  twenty-four  hours." 

"  I  begin  to  think  there  is  no  place  like  home, "Tom  re- 
marked, as  they  pulled  off  to  the  ship. 

"  Then  you  wouldn't  change  places  with  the  Sovereign 
of  Oman  ?" 

.  "  Indeed  I  wouldn't.  I  feel  very  sorry  for  the  poor  fel- 
low." 


NAN  * 

BY   MRS.  LUCY  C.  LILLIE, 

AUTIIOK  OF  "  MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "AuNT  HUTU'S  TEMPTATION."  inv. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  next  few  weeks  passed  very  rapidly.  Nan  had 
not  only  to  think  of  her  charges  in  Miller  Street,  who 
were  certainly  thriving,  but  preparations  for  Phyllis's 
birthday  were  going  on  in  a  very  elaborate  and  exciting 
manner.  A  great  deal  of  secrecy  was  required  in  the 
doings  at  the  carriage-house,  where  there  were  now  daily 
rehearsals,  Nan  performing  the  part  of  the  Captive,  and 
Laura  that  of  the  Knight. 

There  was  some  difficulty  in  making  Dicksie,  who  was 
the  Knight's  intimate  friend,  conduct  himself  satisfac- 
torily, as  he  was  so  exceedingly  anxious  to  see  and  hear 
everything  that  was  going  on  between  his  own  parts  that 
his  curly  head  was  constantly  popping  in;  and  when  on 
one  occasion  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  appear  in  dis- 
guise— wrapped  in  some  thick  cloak  or  muffling — he  abso- 
lutely refused  to  put  anything  around  him  but  an  old 
Nottingham  lace  curtain,  through  which,  of  course,  every 
line  and  feature  were  ridiculously  apparent. 

Joan,  as  the  Magician,  was  very  terrible,  especially  when 
at  one  thrilling  part  she  had  to  produce  some  music,  which 
she  did  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner  on  a  comb.  She 
insisted  upon  Nan's  telling  her  how  Mrs.  Landor  had  moved 
and  walked,  feeling  sure  she  ought  to  get  some  "hints'' 
for  her  own  performance;  and  Nan  went  into  wild  fits  of 
laughter  over  Joan's  grimacings  and  dancings  when  the 
final  discovery  is  made  that  the  Captive  is  the  Magician's 
dearly  beloved  niece. 

There  was  some  difficulty  in  arranging  for  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Captive's  relations,  when  summoned  by  the 


*  Begun  ill  No.  1ST,  HARPER'S  Yocso  PEOPLE. 


Magician  :  but  here  the  back  window  came 
into  use,  Lance  offering,  as  he  said,  to 
"shove"  them  in.  Bertie  and  Alfred  rep- 
resented these  shadowy  forms,  and  Lance 
made  a  frame-work,  on  which  some  pink 
tarlatan  was  stretched,  and  behind  which 
the  Captive's  relations  looked  a  little  more 
ghostly  than  they  had  during  the  first  re- 
hearsals. But  it  was  certainly  an  anxious 
moment  when  the  Magician  said. 

"Arise,  spirits  of  tin-  IHHIM-  of  (loii- 
dulfo!"  and  a  scrambling  noise,  suppress- 
ed laughter,  and  labored  breathing  were 
heard  outside,  with  such  whispered  remarks 
as,  "I  say.  Lance,  you're  pinching  me!" 
and,  "  O-o-oh,  that's  too  tight!"  and  a  very 
heated  and  panting  personage  would  half 
tumble  into  the  little  space  between  the  cur- 
tain and  the  pink  tarlatan  screen,  while 
tln>  Magician,  with  his  back  to  the  audi- 
ence, played  wildly  on  his  comb,  and  the 
Captive  seemed  in  a  half-fainting  condi- 
tion. However,  the  children  found  a  great 
deal  of  enjoyment  from  the  rehearsals;  and  when  IMiyl- 
lis's  birthday  dawned  their  anxiety  and  excitement  were 
scarcely  less  than  if  they  were  to  appear  before  a  real 
audience. 

Lance  wrote  out  formal  invitations  to  Miss  Rolf  and 
Miss  Prior,  who  highly  disapproved  of  the  whole  thing. 
to  Mrs.  Heriotand  Mrs.  Travers,  and  David  and  the  Blakes. 
Besides  their  home  party  half  a  dozen  young  friends  were 
invited;  and  the  morning  of  the  performance  was  spent 
in  decorating  the  carriage  house  with  boughs  and  trailing 
vines.  Lance  and  Nan  had  contrived  to  make  a  very 
pretty  banner,  with  Phyllis's  name  on  it,  which  they  hung 
directly  above  the  stage. 

"I  say,  Lance,"  said  Dicksie,  as  if  a  wonderfully  happy 
thought  had  occurred  to  him,  "  let's  put  on  it  '  In  memory 
of  her  thirtieth  birthday  .'" 

"Hold  your  little  tongue,"  laughed  Lance,  from  the 
top  of  the  step-ladder.  "Fancy  Phyl's  look  on  reading 
such  a  thing!  Come  here,  Laura,  will  you,  just  for  one 
moment  ?" 

Laura  was  in  the  little  dressing-room  they  had  contrived 
at  one  side,  and  Lance,  from  his  perch  among  the  greens, 
could  look  directly  down  upon  her.  Nan,  at  his  side, 
could  do  the  same,  and,  for  some  reason  she  could  not  de- 
line,  a  strange  feeling — like  distrust— swept  across  Nan's 
mind. 

Laura  was  on  her  knees  under  one  of  the  little  windows. 
Before  her,  on  a  chair,  was  the  looking-glass  which  they 
had  borrowed  from  one  of  the  bedrooms,  and  she  was  try- 
ing the  effect  of  various  glittering  ornaments  on  the  hel- 
met she  was  to  wear  as  the  Knight. 

They  were  cheap  things ;  yet  it  was  strange,  when  every 
detail  of  their  costumes  had  been  so  openly  discussed,  that 
Laura  should  feel  it  necessary  to  go  off  by  herself  with 
something  new  to  decide  upon.  The  ornaments  were  lying 
in  an  open  paper  on  her  lap.  Nan  never  forgot  just  what 
they  looked  like. 

Laura  started,  and  looked  around  up  through  the  aper- 
ture where  now  only  Nan's  wistful  face  was  discernible. 
Lance  being  occupied  with  some  critical  piece  of  his  work. 
She  saw  Nan  looking  at  her,  and  colored  scarlet  and 
jumped  up,  wrapping  the  paper  jealously  around  the 
trinkets,  and  putting  them  with  rather  a  defiant  air  into 
her  pocket. 

"  Lance  wants  you,"  said  Nan,  wondering  why  her  own 
voice  sounded  so  low  and  constrained. 

Laura  came  out  very  quickly,  and  busied  herself  for  a 
few  moments  with  handing  Lance  what  he  wanted. 
When  Nan  descended  from  the  ladder,  she  said,  care- 
lessly. 


FKHIM'AKY  c.,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


•2 1  ;•; 


''I  was  just  seeing  how  some  things  I  got — at — school 
would  look  on  my  helmet." 

""Why."  said  Nail,  "I  thought  you  said  the  other  day 
that  scliuol  was  all  over." 

"  Well,  m-Iioul-i/irlx  aren't  !"  exclaimed  Laura,  positive 
ly  angry.  "  I  meant  I  lie  un-K 

Nan  could  not  possibly  have  told  why  an  atmosphere 
that  was  curious  and  painful  seemed  to  hani:  about  the 
rest  of  that  morning.  Not  all  of  Lance's  fun  nor  Joan's 
grimacing  and  dancing  could  dispel  it  ;  and  she  was 
much  relieved  \\heii  Lance  proposed  her  walking  with 
him  down  to  the  Blakes'.  lie  said  he  was  afraid  Love 
would  he  too  shy  to  come,  and  they  had  hetter  go  and 
urge  it. 

"Oh  no."  said  Xan,  quickly;  "Love  isn't  like  that. 
Lance  she  is  shy.  hut  it  isn't  just  that  way.  She  ami  1 
have  lonir  talks,  and  she  only  e-ets  shy  sometimes  when 
she  is  giving  me  her  advice  about  anything." 

Still  Lance  insisted  upon  the  ualk:  anil  when  they 
were  well  on  their  way,  going  along  the  river  -  hank 
leading  to  the  boat  house,  he  slopped  suddenly,  and 
said: 

"Nan.  I  feel  lately  as  if  something  queer  had  come  over 
Laura.  Can  you  think  what  it  is  .'" 

Nan  felt  more  strongly  than  anything  else  a  desire  to 
do  Laura  the  very  fullest  jus- 
tice, and  she  went  too  far  in 
saying:  "  (  Hi.  Lance,  what 
<-nii/il  there  lie  '.  You  know 
Phyllis  has  lately  had  I o  send 
for  Or.  Rogers  for  her.  She 
seems  to  he  '  running  down,' 
he  said." 

Lance  put  his  lips  togeth- 
er and  drew  up  his  cyehrous 
in  the  way  Nan  had  learned 
to  know  meant  annoyance 

or  perplexity  with  him. 

"  It  isn't  Unit,"  he  said, 
shortly;  anil  Nan  was  re- 
lieved to  liud  he  let  the  sub- 
ject drop. 

The  cousins  found  Love 
with  her  sleeves  rolled  up, 
and  her  plump  hands  busy 
making  cake.  They  went 
around  by  the  side  door,  and 
Love  nodded  to  them  bright- 
ly through  the  vines  across 
her  kitchen  window.  How 
cool  and  sweet  and  bright  it 
all  looked!  was  what  both 
Lance  and  Nail  thought  ; 
and  Love,  in  her  clean  ging- 
ham dress,  with  a  dainty 
apron,  was  the  personifica- 
tion of  what  you  would  call 
a  "  nice"  little  maiden. 

She  was  evidently  pleased 
by  their  coming,  and  prom- 
ised not  to  fail  in  her  attend- 
ance at  the  play,  with  Mrs. 
Travers  and  little  David. 
Lance  wanted  to  linger  for 
a  chat  witli  old  Blake.  Nan 
hurried  him.  but  not  be- 
fore Love  had  whispered, 
"I'm  going  to  wear  my  silk 
dress!" 

"Oh,  Lance!"  exclaimed 
Nan,  with  glowing  eyes,  as 
they  left  the  cottage,  "isn't 
it  worth  anything  to  be  able 


to  make  people  happy  as  Aunt  Letty  can  with  her  mon- 
ey '.  How  I'ltn  rich  people  ever  keep  their  money  to 
theniseh  es  ." 

Lance  did  not  tell  his  little  cousin,  but  he  had  begun  to 
learn  a  great  many  lessons  from  her. 

What  Lance  had  said  of  Laura  look  deeper  root  ill 
Nan's  mind  than  she  would  have  allowed.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock  when  they  got  back  to  College  Street,  and  her  lirst 
thought  was  to  see  Laura  ;  but  she  was  upstairs,  .loan  said, 
from  behind  the  scenes,  and  on  going  to  her  door  Nail 
found  it  locked. 

A  cold  lunch  was  prepared  for  the  children,  and  Phyllis 
begged  of  them  to  eat  it  prompt  h. 

"Now,  Nan.  Lance.  Uicksie."  she  called  out  from  the 
second  landing  on  the  stairs.  "  do  come  down.  You  must 
remember  all  there  is  to  be  done  today  and  this  evening 
besides."  For  in  the  evening  Phyllis  was  to  have  a 
"grown-up"  party,  at  which  the  children  had,  one  and 
all.  nermissioii  to  assist. 

1  >o\\  n    scurried   the    children,   full  of  delightful   excite- 
ment, even   Laura  looking  a  little  brighter  as  they  assem 
bled  in  the  dining-room  where  Phyllis,  never  to  be  Hurried 
or  put   out   of  temper,  quietly  dispensed  bread  and  butler 
and  cakes  and  cold  meat. 

After  this  came  the  rush  to  the  carriage-house,  the  doors 


LAI'RA    TRYING    THE    NEW    ORNAMENTS    ON    HER    HELMET. 


214 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


of  which  were  now  resplendent  with  large  sheets  of  paper 
bearing  in  red  paint  the  following  words: 


THE  CAPTIVE  AND  THE  KNIGHT 


IX   TWO   ACTS 

BY    MISS    LAURA    ROLF 

IN    HONOR  OF 

THE  BIRTHDAY  OF 

MISS   PHYLLIS  ROLF 

AT 

Two  oiiix-k. 


The  ha rn  doors  were  flung  open  at  the  appointed  time; 
the  guests  were  assembled  in  a  few  moments,  and  the  play 
began. 

Joan  was  quite  the  success  of  the  piece;  Laura  was  (<><> 
conscious,  Nan  too  much  given  to  bursts  of  laughter  quite 
out  of  keeping  with  a  Princess  in  captivity ;  and  the  usual 
scrimmages  took  place  with  the  spirits  of  the  Princess's  re- 
lations. One  horrible  moment  occurred  when  Bertie,  be- 
ing flung  too  violently  into  the  window,  upset  the  pink 
screen,  and  called  out, 

"  There,  Lance,  I  told  you  I  would !"  This  produced  a 
laugh,  of  course,  but  it  was  quelled  by  a  most  awful  look 
from  Joan,  who,  as  the  Magician,  had  painted  her  face  in  a 
way  which  made  her  expression  very  unpleasant,  and  cer- 
tainly had  the  desired  effect  upon  the  laughing  audience 
when  she  turned  it  toward  them. 

The  play  ended,  the  children  who  had  looked  on  re- 
mained outside  waiting  for  the  Rolfs  to  appear.  Nan 
dashed  into  the  dressing-room  to  enjoy  a  good  laugh. 
She  found  Laura  hastily  putting  away  the  ornaments 
which  had  decked  her  helmet  and  flowing  cloak. 

"Oh,  why  do  you  take  them  off?"  exclaimed  Nan. 

"  Because  I  want  to!"  snapped  Laura.  She  was  dress- 
ed first  and  hurried  out.  Nan  was  just  folding  up  the  last 
of  her  stage  finery,  when  she  saw  one  of  Laura's  ornaments 
on  the  floor.  She  picked  it  up,  thinking  how  vexed  her 
cousin  would  be  to  lose  even  one  of  the  pretty  things;  but 
when  she  went  out  into  the  barn  Laura  had  vanished. 
Nan  put  it  into  her  pocket  until  she  should  find  her  cous- 
in; but  an  hour  later  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  How 
much  reason  she  had  to  regret  it  later ! 

[TO    UK    CONTINUED.] 


"YE"  AND  "&." 

BY  GEORGE  CARY  EGGLESTON 

IT  is  a  favorite  practice  of  persons  who  give  enter 
tainments  for  churches  and  Sunday-schools  to  dress 
themselves  like  their  great-grandfathers  and  great-grand- 
mothers, and  to  give  an  "Olde  Folkes'  "  concert.  In  their 
advertisements,  as  all  the  boys  and  girls  have,  probably 
observed,  they  always  spell  in  an  old-fashioned  way,  and 
use  the  word  "ye"  instead  of  "the." 

Perhaps  some  of.  you  who  read  this  have  asked  why 
this  is  done,  and  it  is  pretty  safe  to  say  that  not  many  of 
you  have  had  a  satisfactory  answer.  The  most  that  peo- 
ple generally  know  about  the  matter  is  that  our  gival- 
graiidfathers  nearly  always  wrote  "ye"  for  "the,"  and 
"yt"  for  "that."  And  yet  the  explanation  is  very  simple. 
In  Anglo-Saxon,  the  language  from  which  English  came, 
there  were  two  letters  each  representing  the  sound  which 
we  represent  by  tli.  One  of  these  letters  was  p,  and  the 
other  •§.  Originally  one  of  them  had  the  sound  of  th  in 
the  word  "thin,"  and  the  other  the  sound  of  th  in  the 
word  "  that";  but  gradually  this  distinction  was  lost,  and 
people  used  either  letter  to  represent  either  sound.  For 
a  long  time  after  English  took  the  place  of  Anglo-Saxon, 


people  continued  to  use  one  of  the  old  letters  instead  of 
th,  and  gradually  the  shape  of  the  letter  changed  till  it 
came  to  look  like  y.  Then  people  got  to  using  y  in  its 
place.  But  in  writing  "ye"  they  did  not  think  of  calling 
the  word  "ye";  they  called  it  "the,"  just  as  we  do,  be- 
cause the  y  meant  th,  and  not  y  at  all. 

Another  question  that  most  boys  and  girls  have  asked 
without  getting  an  answer  is,  Where  did  we  get  the  char- 
acter "&"?  It  is  not  a  letter,  and  it  stands  for  a  word 
of  three  letters.  But  we  have  other  words  of  three  letters 
which  are  just  as  much  entitled  to  be  represented  by  a 
character  as  "and"  is,  and  the  puzzling  thing  is  that  we 
have  a  character  to  take  the  place  of  "and,"  but  none  to 
stand  for  "but,"  "the,"  "man,"  "boy,"  "for,"  etc.  I 
never  could  read  this  riddle;  but  one  day  I  asked  the  poet 
Mr.  William  Cullen  Bryant  about  it,  and  he  gave  me  the 
explanation  at  once.  Let  me  see  if  I  can  make  it  plain 
with  type. 

All  my  readers  know  that  the  letters  etc.  stand  for  the 
two  Latin  words  "et"  and  "cetera,"  which  mean  "and 
the  rest,"  the  word  " et"  meaning  "and."  Now  about  the 
time  that  our  great-great-grandfathers  played  shinny  at 
school,  people  were  fond  of  odd  tricks  and  conceits  in. 
writing.  They  were  so  fond  of  making  anagrams  out  of 
people's  names  that  sometimes  judges  did  it  while  trying 
cases.  It  was  natural  enough  that  people  so  fond  of  con- 
ceits should  fall  into  the  habit  of  writing  certain  short 
and  familiar  words  backward,  and  many  of  them,  instead 
of  "and,"  used  the  Latin  word  "et,"  but  they  wrote  it 
backward,  thus — 


Look  at  it  as  thus  written,  and  you  will  see  at  once  that 
our  modern  character  "&"  is  only  a  modified  form  of  "et" 
written  in  that  way.  But  "  et"  with  c  after  it  is  the  regu- 
lar abbreviation  of  "et  cetera,"  and  so  "&c.,"  which  we 
commonly  read  "and  so  forth,"  is  simply  "  etc."  with  the 
"  et"  written  backward. 


REG. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  JTJN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

r\  H.  my !"  exclaimed  Reg,  under  his  breath,  as  fresco 

\J  and  gilding,  velvets  and  mirrors,  flashed  their  com- 
bined charms  into  his  eyes. 

Then  he  looked  nervously  about  him,  half  expecting  to 
feel  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  hear  a  stern  voice  or- 
dering him  out.  But  no  one  seemed  to  notice  him,  and 
with  feet  sinking  noiselessly  into  the  heavy  carpet,  Reg 
crept  around  by  the  wall  toward  the  stage. 

"  I  wonder  if  they  always  let  boys  into  theatres  for  no- 
thing ?•'  wondered  Reg,  as  he  stood  still  for  a  minute  to 
stare  at  the  score  or  so  of  men  with  their  hats  oil  who  sat 
chatting  and  laughing  together  in  the  middle  of  the  par- 
quette. 

Then  he  caught  sight  of  the  private  box  directly  in 
front  of  him,  with  its  door  ajar,  through  which  lie 'had 
such  an  enchanting  vision  of  soft  cushions,  dainty  cur- 
tains, and  shining  gilt  lattice -work  that  he  was 'seized 
with  an  irresistible  impulse  to.  enter  and  rest  his  weary 
limbs  for  at  least  an  instant  in  one  of  the  velvet-lined 
arm-chairs. 

Somehow  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  suddenly  found 
his  way  to  fairy-land,  for  the  memory  of  Aunt  Susan  and 
of  his  own  homeless  condition  had  faded  from  his  mind., 
and  when  he  had  curled  himself  up  in  a  corner  of  the 
luxurious  box,  the  buzz  of  conversation  in  the  parquetto 


FEBIM'AKY  r,.  1S83. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


215 


gradually  appeared  to  change  into  tin-  humming  of  the 
bees  on — the — farm — at — home. 

I;,  i'-'s  ideas  came  very  slowly  now;  In-  was  so  tired,  the 
;irm-chair  was  so  comfortable,  and  the  curtained  pros- 
cenium box  such  a  glorious  spot,  in  which  to  have  plea- 
sant dreams  that  not  a  word  did  Reg  hear  of  the  auction 
sale  of  scats  for  the  lirst  appearance  of  a  famous  singer. 
except  as  the  auctioneer's  monotonous  tones  may  have 
merged  themselves  into  the  uhi/./ing  of  the  train  hound 
for  the  pantomime,  in  which  the  sleeping  hoy  imagined 
himself  to  lie  rushing  along  on  a  level  with  the  second 
.story  windows. 

"  \Yli-e-w!  By  all  the  white  mice,  what — are — you — 
a-doing  here  ("  and  as  each  word  of  the  last  sentence 
WHS  emphasized  by  a  shake  that  fairly  made  lice's  teeth 
rattle,  lie  was  soon  wide  awake  enough  to  lie  ahle  to  an- 
swer the  question. 

Instead  of  doing-  so,  however,  he  cried  out:    "Let    me 
go!"   and    hreakin":   loose   from   his  persecutor.  \\ln>  was  a 
lad  of  ahout   sixteen,  with  a  red  face  and  dirty  hands,  he 
sprang  out  of  the  box  and  straight  into  the  arms  of  ;i  <jen 
tlemaii  who  was  just  coming  do\\  ,i  the  :iisle. 

"  Hello!  what  does  this  mean,  I»anderhry  ;"  exclaimed 
the  latter,  as  lie-  plumped  Reg  down  into  one  of  the  par 
quetle  chairs,  and  held  him  there  with  a  hand  on  each 
shoulder. 

"  Mean,  sir  :"  returned  the  call  hoy,  hurryinir  forward. 
"  It's  the  meanest  piece  of  busines.,  that 

"Oh,  come  now,  l>an.  I've  n<i  time  to  listen  to  any  of 
your  jokes.  Where  did  this  hoy  come  from  .'"  and  Mi'. 
Wellington  Smith,  junior  manager  of  the  theatre,  tapped 
Reg  on  the  head  with  a  snap  of  the  lingers,  as  if  lie  were 
a  piece  of  furniture. 

"  Wh.\  .  sir.  he  come  out  of  the  hox  I  he 're.  I>idn't  \  on 
see  I  mean,  feel  him  }" 

I'erhaiis  this  last  etl'ort  at  wit  on  the  part  of  Master 
h.ni  I  >anderhry  would  have-  resulted  unpleasantly  for 
that  young  man  had  not  ReL'  at  that  moment  attracted 

Mr.  Smith's  entire  attention  to  himself  by  making  several 

desperate  elforls  l<>  throw  the  hands  oil'  his  shoulders,  and 
•  luring  the  struggle  for  masler\  hetween  the  two  l>an 
hurried  oil'  to  attend  to  urgent  duties  behind  the  scenes. 

"  Well,  well,  young  fellow  .  you've  <|iiite  a  deal  of  mus- 
cle, haven't  you  ;  It  does  you  credit  ;  but  still  1  think 
you'd  better  keep  it  in  reserve;"  and  Mr.  Smith  pinioned 
I  leg's  arms  to  his  sides,  while  lie  took  his  station  in  front 
of  him,  with  his  back  braced  against  the  next  row  of 
seals.  "Now,  sir,"  he  continued,  "answer  two  or  three 
questions  I  am  going  to  put  to  you,  and  perhaps  I  will  let 
\  on  oil'  easier  than  you  think  for.  How  did  you  get  into 
that  box  :i" 

I  teg  had  by  this  time  resigned  himself  to  whatever  fate 
awaited  him  ;  so,  clearing  all  traces  of  a  sob  from  his  voice, 
lie  replied,  frankly,  "If  yon  please,  sir.  I  walked  right  in 
from  the  street;  nobody  asked  me  for  a  ticket,  and  1  only 
wanted  to  take  a  peep." 

"But  it  strikes  me  as  a  queer  way  of  getting  'only  a 
peep,'  when  you  take  possession  of  a  private  box  as  if  you 
had  paid  for  it.  I  suppose  you  were  hiding  there  until 
evening,  when  you  hoped  to  see  the  show  for  nothing." 

"No,  sir;  I  never  thought  of  that.     I  was  asleep." 

"You  were  asleep,  eh  ?'' 

Then  there  was  a  pause  in  the  strange  interview,  during 
which  Mr.  Wellington  Smith  stood  off  in  the  aisle,  though 
still  keeping  a  clutch  on  Reg's  jacket,  and  stared  at  the 
boy  from  head  to  foot,  exactly  as  if  he  were  measuring 
him  in  his  mind's  eye  for  a  suit  of  clothes.  And  this  is 
just  what  he  was  doing. 

It  was  a  queer  sight,  only  these  two  in  the  great  audi- 
torium, which  was  now  only  lighted  by  a  solitary  gas  jet 
here  and  there,  while  on  the  stage  carpenters  and  scene- 
shifters  were  going  about  their  work  of  constructing  a 
royal  palace  for  the  abode  of  the  Twin  Princes,  which 


was  the  name  of  the  "brilliant  new  spectacular  drama" 
to  be  produced  that  evening.  Reg  watched  them  in  a 
dreamy  sort  of  way,  wondering  if  Phil  Fairlock  knew 
that  stage  marble  was  only  stretches  of  painted  canvas, 
which  Hopped  about  Ilimsily  while  it  was  being  put  up. 

"  Where  do  yon  live,  boy  '." 

This  question  was  asked  in  a  tone  of  voice  so  much  plea- 
santer  than  the  one  in  which  the  gentleman  had  previous- 
ly spoken  that  ReL1  looked  ii])  at  him  curiously,  as  he  an- 
swered, "At  llroadfariiis.  sir." 

"Then  what  are  you  doing  here  in  New  York  alone  ?" 

"  I'm  lost." 

On  hearing  this  Mr.  Smith  made  Reg  move  on  a  seat,  a  ml 
himself  taking  possession  of  the  vacated  one  lie  put  his 
arm  about  the  boy,  and  asked  him  to  (ell  the  whole  story. 

Reg  obeyed,  quite  melted  at  the  sympath.\  expressed  for 
him.  which  made  the  memory  of  Aunt  Susan's  blunt 
ways  seem  terribly  cruel  by  contrast.  It  was  this  idea 
of  her.  as  he  solibingly  told  of  the  smack  and  the  push, 
that  be  gave  to  Mr.  Wellington  Smith,  who  muttered: 
"Good!"  when  the  little  tale  of  woe  was  finished,  and 
then  asked  Reg  what  his  name  was. 

"Reginald  Robinson,  eh  '  Would  look  well  on  the 
bills  if  we  dared  put  it  there."  Then  to  Reg:  "Well. 
!>''  ginald,  will  you  trust  to  me  to  take  care  of  you  until 
w  e  can  lind  this  aunt  of  yours,  or  think  of  some  plan  of 
sending  you  back  to  Broadfarms  ''.  It  may  take  some 
time,  a  day  or  two  at  least,  and  meanwhile  you  can  rcpav 
me  for  my  trouble  by  becoming  a  Prince." 

Keg  stared. 

"1  mean,"  explained  Mr.  Smith,  "by  taking  the  part 
of  one  of  t  be  Tw  in  I'rinces  in  (lie  new  piece  to  be  produced 
to-night.  They  neither  of  them  have  to  say  a  word,  and 
Hilly  and  Sammy  Tinburn  were  to  do  the  characters,  but 
Sammy's  broke  out  with  the  mumps,  and  as  you're  just 
about  his  si/e,  I  think  his  costume  will  lit  you  nicely;  so 
if  \on'll  be  so  obliging  as  to  consent  to  the  bargain,  I'll 
teach  you  your  part  as  quick  as  you  can  say  '.Tack  Robin- 
son,'or  '  Reg  Robinson' either, "and  the  manager  laughed 
gayly  at  his  joke,  as  he  palled  Reg  affectionately  on  the 
shoulder. 

(  in  on  the  stage  himself,  and  be  a  prince,  in  silk  tights 
and  velvet  doublets,  like  the  pictures  of  heroes  in  the  sto- 
ry-books! Reg  thought  this  must  be  but  a  continuation 
of  his  dream;  but  whatever  it  was.  he  resolved  not  to  let 
slip  the  golden  opportunity  offered  him.  So  with  his  face 
all  aglow  lie  fairly  cried: 

"()h,  yes,  sir;  I'll  do  whatever  you  say;  but  do  you 
think  I  can  act  ?  I  never  was  in  a  theatre  before  in  my 
life." 

"So  much  the  better,"  replied  Mr.  Smith.  "You'll  be 
all  the  more  natural,  and  won't  have  any  bad  habits  to  be 
broken  of.  Now  come  with  me;"  and  taking  Reg  by  the 
hand  he  led  the  way  down  the  sloping  floor,  around  by  a 
narrow  passageway,  and  so  on  to  the  stage,  which  was 
cold  and  cheerless  enough,  with  its  bare  brick  walls  and 
strong  draughts  blowing  back  and  forth  between  the 
stacks  of  scenery. 

"  First  of  all,"  began  Mr.  Smith,  briskly,  as  he  preceded 
Reg  down  some  very  dirty  stairs,  ending  in  a  dismal  black 
space  cut  up  with  trap-doors,  machines  for  shooting  peo- 
ple up  with  a,  bounce,  and  feather-beds  for  catching  them 
when  they  came  head-first  down  again — "first  of  all,  we 
must  try  on  the  suit;"  and  opening  one  of  a  number  of 
doors  on  either  side,  he  lit  the  gas  and  introduced  Reg 
into  one  of  the  general  dressing-rooms  for  men. 

Tights,  cloaks,  caps,  swords,  belts,  daggers,  wigs,  and 
pistols  were  scattered  everywhere,  but  this  apparent  con- 
fusion did  not  seem  to  cause  the  manager  much  trouble, 
for  after  rooting  about  on  the  floor,  through  a  closet  or 
two,  and  along  a  row  of  hooks,  he  presently  held  up  a 
pretty  little  blue  cloak,  slashed  with  silver,  a  velvet  cap 
of  the  same  color  with  a  feather  sticking  jauntily  out  of 


216 


I-IAllPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


one  side,  a  pair  of  spotless  white  tights,  a  tiny  sword,  silk 
stockings,  pumps  with  blue  bows — in  short,  the  complete 
outfit  of  a  young  prince  of  the  olden  time. 

In  this  dazzling  costume,  then,  he  assisted  Reg  to  array 
himself,  all  the  while  rapidly  explaining  what  would  be 
required  of  him  in  the  character. 

Reg  had  a  generous  supply  of  the  imitative  faculty  in 
his  composition,  and  by  the  time  the  sword  was  buckled 
on  and  the  cap  placed  atop  of  his  powdered  wig,  he  was 
able  to  strut  up  and  down  the  dressing-room  with  a  very 
fair  copy  of  the  princely  stride  set  him  by  Mr.  Smith. 

If  he  had  not  forgotten  all  about  Aunt  Susan  in  his  wild- 
ly excited  state,  he  would  have  wondered  if  she  could  have 


REG   GOES 


SLEEP   IN   A    PRIVATE   BOX    AT    SMITH'S    THEATRE. 


recognized  him,  as,  standing  before  the  cracked  looking- 
glass,  he  practiced  a  gracious  waving  of  the  hand  and  the 
correct  style  of  a  royal  bow.  Indeed,  he  scarcely  knew 
himself, and  when  his  face  came  to  be  "touched  up  a  lit- 
tle" for  the  performance,  Mr.  Smith  declared  that  he  would 
almost  be  ready  to  believe  that  he  was  either  the  real 
Prince  Budaway  or  else  "Master  Cecil  Scotrini,"  poor 
Sammy  Tinburn's  stage  name,  as  it  was  printed  on  the 
programmes. 

"Good!  good!"  cried  the  delighted  junior  manager,  ap- 
plauding softly,  as  Reg,  with  stately  tread,  walked  to  and 
fro  in  front  of  him,  as  proud  as  a  peacock.  "I  know 


it's  a  risky  thing  to  let  you  appear  without  giving  you  a 
regular  rehearsal  with  the  company,  but  as  long  as  you 
don't  have  a  word  to  say,  and  seem  to  take  to  the  clothes 
so  naturally,  I  don't  see  but  what  you'll  do  every  bit  as 
well  as  Sammy  himself.  But  mind,  if  you  speak  or  laugh 
while  on  the  stage,  you  may  know  what  to  expect;"  and 
Mr.  Smith's  black  brows  met  in  a  frown  terrible  enough 
to  frighten  any  boy  into  a  promise  of  the  strictest  obe- 
dience. 

' '  Half  past  five !  What  a  piece  of  luck  that  I  should 
stumble  over  you  just  in  the  nick  of  time!"  continued  the 
young  manager,  as  he  assisted  Reg  to  disrobe  without  rip- 
ping any  seams.  "  I  suppose  we  could  easily  have  found 

a  boy  to  take  Sam's  place; 
but  then  I  don't  fancy  hav- 
ing any  little  ragamuffin 
from  the  streets  lill  the  i-nlc 
of  a  prince.  You,  now, 
have  quite  an  aristocratic 
air  about  you,  a  royal  glance 
of  the  eye,  so  to  speak ;"  and 
with  like  pieces  of  flattery 
artful  Mr.  Smith  proceeded 
to  feed  the  mind  of  poor, 
silly  Reg  until  they  ascend- 
ed to  the  stage  again. 

' '  Now  let  me  see,  what 
shall  we  do  for  you  in  the 
matter  of  board  and  lodg- 
ing '.  I'd  like  you  to  be 
with  Billy  as  much  as  pos- 
sible before  the  perform- 
ance, so  suppose  we  try  and 
get  Mrs.  Tiiiburn  to  keep 
you  until  we  hear  from 
your  aunt?  I  think  Billy 
told  me  that  they'd  sent 
Sammy  out  into  the  coun- 
try somewhere,  so  you  can 
just  step  into  his  place. 
This  way;"  and  Reg  was 
conducted  by  his  new  ac- 
quaintance through  a  damp 
winding  brick  passage,  and 
out  by  the  dingy  stage-door 
into  a  side  street,  along 
which  Mr.  Smith  led  the 
way  until  they  came  within 
sight  of  the  river;  then  en- 
tering the  ill-smelling  hall- 
way of  a  tenement-house, 
he  preceded  Reg  up  three 
flights  of  worn  stairs,  and 
knocked  at  the  door  of  a 
back  room. 

A  woman  whose  bared 
arms  held  a  screaming  baby 
opened  it.  As  soon  as  she 
caught  sight  of  Mr.  Smith 
she  dropped  an  awkward 
courtesy,  and  then  looked 

curiously  at  Reg,  who  in  turn  stared  with  round  eyes  at  the 
wash-tub,  cooking-stove,  bed,  and  other  like  articles  with 
which  the  room  was  crowded.  In  a  very  few  words  the 
manager  explained  what  he  wanted  done,  adding  that  he 
would  pay  Mrs.  Tinburn  the  same  price  for  boarding  Reg 
as  he  would  have  given  Sammy  had  he  appeared  in  the 
play. 

This  offer  the  woman  was  only  too  glad  to  accept ;  and 
with  a  hasty  "  Good-by — remember,  seven  sharp,"  Mr. 
Smith  hurried  off,  leaving  Reg  alone  with  the  fat  Irish- 
woman, and  the  mixed  odor  of  soap-suds  and  onions. 

[TO  BE    CONTINUED.] 


FKIiKTAKY  (1,  ISM. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


217 


!/v-  '•        "" 


'  •',"       ".'£•- ' 

**feM:^?:SPil 


E 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS. 

BY  SHERWOOD  EYSE. 

VERY  boy  who  has  read  that  delightful  book  Tom 
Broivn's  Sclwol  Days  will  recall  with  pleasure  the 
spirited  description  of  the  celebrated  "Crick"  run,  which, 
after  an  existence  of  perhaps  half  a  century,  still  holds  its 
place  as  one  of  the  greatest  triumphs  of  school-boy  life  in 
England.  The  famous  old  school  at  Rugby  was  indeed 
the  birth-place  of  the  sport  of  hare  and  hounds,  as  it  was 
also  of  the  modern  game  of  foot-ball.  Both  sports  have 
grown,  and  spread  themselves  over  the  English-speaking 
world,  because  they  are  manly,  invigorating,  and  delight- 


ful pastimes  for  those  who  would  harden  their  sin- 
ews, strengthen  their  lungs,  and  build  up  for  them- 
selves men's  bodies  to  do  men's  nobler  work  in  the 
battle  of  life. 

The  desire  for  fame  in  the  matter  of  "records"  has  in 
some  clubs  caused  one  of  the  principal  pleasures  of  this 
mimic  chase  to  be  lost  sight  of.  It  is  a  common  thing 
nowadays  for  a  club  to  run  over  well-known  trails,  the 
distance  of  which  is  known  within  a  few  yards,  thus 
changing  the  character  of  the  sport  from  a  •'chase"  to  a 
"steeple-chase."  This  is  certainly  a  mistake.  The  run 
should  be  over  a  line  of  country  unknown,  except  in  a 
general  way,  to  both  hares  and  hounds.  Who  does  not 
know  the  tediousness  of  the  road  that  is  often  traversed, 
and  the  attractions  of  a  ramble  along  by-paths  whose  ev- 
ery turn  brings  the  explorer  face  to  face  with  something 
new  and  unexpected  ?  Even  in  the  middle  of  a  hard  run 


218 


IIAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  influence  of  novelty  is  felt,  and  the  unknown  lias 
always  a  charm  for  adventurous  youth. 

The  "  meet"  should  be  at  some  friend's  gate,  or  at  some 
retired  though  easily  found  spot,  such  as  a  place  where 
roads  cross  each  other. 

"  Here  on  this  verdant  spot,  where  Xature  kind 
\Viili  ilouljle  blessings  crowns  tin-   tanner's   hopes, 
Where  flowers  autumnal  spring,  and  the  rank   mead 
Affords  the  wandering  hares  a  rieh  repast, 
Throw  off  thy  ready  pack." 

So  sings  the  English  poet  of  the  chase.  To  be  sure,  the 
hares  in  our  case  would  prefer  to  find  their  "  rich  ivp;ist" 
at  their  own  tables  rather  than  in  the  "rank  mead";  nor 
should  the  repast  on  a  hunting  morning  be  too  rich. 
Nevertheless,  the  quotation  is  apt,  for  the  pleasant  sur- 
roundings of  the  meet  will  give  a  cheerful  color  to  the 
whole  day. 

Both  the  hares  (of  whom  there  should  be  two,  for  com- 
panionship's sake)  and  the  hounds  should  be  suitably 
dressed  in  flannel  shirts  or  boating  Jerseys,  old  trousers 
tucked  into  the  stockings,  and  stout  well-fitting  boots. 
Those  of  the  hounds  who  have  not  yet  arrived  at  the  dig- 
nity of  "long  pants"  will  do  well  to  wear  their  thick  win- 
ter stockings,  since  the  trail  will  lead  them  "through 
brake,  through  brier" :  and  the  stouter  the  stocking,  the 
bolder  the  defiance  of  the  clinging  blackberry  thorn. 

One  of  the  best  runners  should  be  "Master  of  the 
Hounds,"'  and  it  will  be  his  duty  to  lead  the  others,  and 
to  "pick  up"  the  "scent"  when  it  has  been  lost.  About 
the  middle  and  end  of  the  line  of  hounds— and  it  is  sur- 
prising to  find  how  long  a  line  it  becomes  before  even  the 
first  mile  is  run — should  be  two  steady,  long-winded  run- 
ners, whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  careless  hounds  on  the  scent. 
and  to  encourage  those  whose  courage  begins  to  cool  down 
as  they  find  their  "first  wind"  deserting  them. 

Only  the  Master  should  carry  a  horn.;  and  it  should  be 
a  real  brass  hunting-horn, 

"  Whose  Hanging  voice 
Awakes  the  mountain  echo  in  her  cell." 

The  universal  Fourth-of-July  fish-horn  is  at  best  a  dis- 
agreeable instrument,  whose  only  title  to  respect  lies  in 
the  patriotic  sentiments  that  it  is  supposed  to  express. 
The  Master  should  vise  his  horn  sparingly,  so  that  when  it 
is  blown  it  may  mean  something.  Its  principal  use  is  to 
call  the  hounds  on  to  the  scent  when  the  Master,  in  skirt- 
ing the  field  or  exploring  the  wood,  has  found  it. 

Each  of  the  two  hares  carries  a  bag  filled  with  white 
paper  cut  into  long  strips.  This  is  the  scent,  or  trail. 
It  can  be  cut  by  the  hares  and  hounds  of  idle  evenings; 
but  it  would  be  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  paper,  unless  it 
be  old  newspaper,  when  almost  any  quantity  of  it,  that 
would  otherwise  be  sent  to  the  paper-mill,  can  be  had  for 
a  trifle — some  two  or  three  cents  a  pound — at  a  printer's 
or  book-binder's.  The  best  kind  of  bag  is  one  of  canvas, 
shaped  like  a  pillow-case,  but  much  smaller  than  an  ordi- 
nary pillow-case.  At  the  two  corners  on  the  long  side 
should  be  two  broad  straps  made  of  leather  or  canvas. 
These  should  be  carried  round  the  hare's  back,  over  the 
right  shoulder,  and  buckled  in  front,  the  bag  being  carried 
under  the  left  arm,  with  the  open  end  forward.  A  tape 
should  be  run  through  a  hem,  so  that  the  bag  may  be 
closed  when  it  is  being  carried  to  the  meet,  or  when  the 
hare  who  is  carrying  it  does  not  want  to  use  his  scent — 
which  sometimes  happens,  as  we  shall  soon  see. 

The  hares  should  be  allowed  a  start,  or  "law,"  as  it  is 
called,  according  to  the  proposed  length  of  the  run.  For 
an  ordinary  run  of  four  or  five  miles  ten  minutes'  law 
would  be  quite  enough.  As  soon  as  they  are  out  of  sight 
the  hares  begin  to  throw  out  the  scent,  and  if  they  are 
fairly  good  runners  they  should  have  put  at  least  a  mile 
between  themselves  and  their  pursuers  before  the  Master 
blows  his  horn  and  puts  his  pack  on  the  scent. 


Let  us  "run  with  the  hare"  a  little  before  we  "hunt 
with  the  hounds."  Though  not  so  crafty  an  animal  as 
the  fox,  the  human  hare  may  resort  to  a  few  wiles  in 
order  to  defeat  his  pursuers.  Should  he  have  reason  to 
think  that  the  hounds  are  pressing  him,  he  may  "double 
on  his  tracks"— that  is,  he  may  run  back  over  the  same 
line — and  when  he  comes  to  a  convenient  fence  he  may 
strike  ott'  again  at  right  angles.  Thus  he  gives  his  pursu- 
ers some  little  trouble  to  find  the  trail.  Another  little 
dodge  is  sometimes  practiced  late  in  a  run.  One  of  the 
hares  skirts  two  sides  of  a  large  field,  scattering  the  scent 
as  he  runs,  while  the  other  walks  leisurely  in  a  straight 
line  to  meet  his  friend  at  the  corner,  and  throws  down  no 
scent  the  while.  A  little  later,  and  the  one  who  has  had 
his  two  or  three  minutes'  breathing-spell  starts  off  to  lay 
the  scent  around  the  field,  while  his  companion  walks 
across.  As  the  hounds  must  follow  the  scent,  the  hares 
have  gained  a  distinct  advantage  by  this  manoeuvre. 
These  dodges,  however,  while  they  are  perfectly  lawful, 
should  not  be  indulged  in  too  frequently,  as  they  are  apt 
to  put  the  hounds  in  a  bad  temper,  and  one  cross  hound 
may,  like  "  one  black  sheep,"  spoil  the  pack.  Before  leav- 
ing the  hares  it  may  be  said  that  if  they  can  keep  ahead 
of  their  pursuers  they  should  so  arrange  their  course  that 
they  will  arrive  at  some  point  known  to  all,  and  not  too 
far  from  home,  so  that  the  stragglers  may  know  whither 
to  make  their  way.  It  is  sometimes  convenient  to  run  in 
a  circle  and  "  kill  your  hare"  at  the  same  spot  whence  you 
started  in  pursuit  of  him.  Thus  the  hounds  may  put  on 
their  jackets  without  delay,  and  so  run  no  risk  of  taking 
cold. 

And  now,  when  the  fleeing  hares  have  been  making 
good  use  of  their  ten  minutes'  law,  the  impatient  hounds 
are  anxiously  looking  over  the  shoulder  of  the  Master, 
who,  with  watch  in  hand,  calls  off  the  minutes  as  they 
crawl  by— "  Five  minutes.  Eight.  Nine.  Time's  up!" 
He  shuts  his  watch  with  a  snap;  and, 

"  Hark  !   hark  !   the  merry  horn  calls,  Come  away  !" 

The  Master,  with  his  eager  pack  close  at  his  heels,  leads 
the  way  to  the  gap  in  the  fence  through  which  the  hares 
disappeared  from  view,  and  they  all  plunge  headlong  into 
the  piece  of  woods.  A  blast  from  the  horn  is  the  signal 
that  the  trail  is  found;  the  pace  is  quickened,  and  even 
thus  early  in  the  chase  the  breathing  becomes  short  and 
hard.  Never  fear;  but  a  few  rods  more  and  you  will 
catch  your  "second  wind" — in  other  words,  your  lungs 
will  have  become  accustomed  to  the  work  demanded  of 
them — and  you  will  feel  as  if  you  could  run  forever. 
This  second  wind  is  one  of  the  delights  of  athletics.  It 
brings  with  it  the  consciousness  of  strength  and  endur- 
ance, while  the  lungs  act  so  easily  and  regularly  that  the 
work  seems  to  be  done  almost  without  effort,  and  entirely 
without  discomfort. 

But  even  second  wind  blows  itself  away  after  a  while, 
especially  when  the  trail  leads  up  stony  hill -sides  or 
through  heavy  undergrowth,  where  there  are  many  fences 
to  be  climbed,  gates  to  be  vaulted,  or  drains  to  be  jumped  ; 
and  the  cunning  hares  will  lead  you  over  as  many  of  such 
obstacles  as  they  can.  Then  comes  the  true  test  of  a  good 
wind— then  the  regret  for  that  extra  slice  of  pumpkin  pie 
last  night,  for  those  buckwheat  cakes  which  it  seemed  a 
shame  to  pass  by  without  eating  freely  of  them  this  morn 
ing.  Pie,  cakes,  candy,  cocoa-nuts,  and  many  other  things 
beginning  with  a  "  c"  are  not  a  good  preparation  for  hares 
or  hounds  when  a  meet  is  announced.  But  when  tin- 
day's  work  and  fun  are  over — when  you  have  captured 
your  hare  or  run  him  close,  and  have  taken  your  bath, 
briskly  rubbing  yourself  down  afterward  with  a  rough 
towel  until  you  feel  like  a  new  boy— then  you  will  have 
such  an  appetite  as  will  make  light  of  roast  beef  and 
pumpkin  pie,  or  whatever  else  the  good  people  at  home 
have  provided  for  their  hungry  hunter.  And  as  between 


FEBRUARY  6,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


219 


the  moutlif  uls  you  hunt  your  hare  over  again  for  the  en- 
tertainment of  the  family,  some  of  whom  may  have  been 
present  tn  see  the  start,  and  recount  with  busy  tongue  the 
mishap^  and  triumphs  of  the  chase,  yon  will  feel  no  envy 
of  the  hunter  with  his  horse  and  hounds,  and  will  wish 
for  nothing1  except,  when  the  clock  tolls  forth  the  length- 
ening hours — except  that  perhaps  you  may  wish  it  was 
permitted  for  a  boy  to  go  to  bed  without  undressing,  when 
lie  is  very,  very  sleepy. 

There  are  other  rewards  to  be  won  in  a  hare  and  hounds 
el  iase  hi -sides  the  fun.  and  I  In-  excitement,  and  the  fatigue, 

and  the  grateful  long  night's  sleep  that  follows.  In  many 
clubs  a  handsome  prize,  such  as  a  silver  cup  or  a  hunting- 
horn,  is  the  reward  of  him  who  comes  in  lirst  ;  and  the 
voimg  winner  may  well  regard  the  trophy  with  pleasure 
and  pride,  for  it  is  no  mean  thing  to  be  tin-  suit'test  and 
most  "plucky"  among  one's  fellows.  Nevertheless.  a 
prize  is  not  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  sport,  and 
don  1. 1  less  the  most  delightful  runs  in  your  experience 'will 
be  those  in  which  there  has  been  no  other  reward  at  the 
end  than  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  you  have  had 
a,  good  time,  and  have,  done  your  best 


A 


I-'ICIIT  AYITlt   A    I!I<;   SNAKK  <>X   TIIK 
'  AMAXoX. 
BY  DAVID  KI:I; 

*.  Professor,  tell  us  a  story,"  said  one  of  our  pa  1 1  \  . 
as  we  clustered  after  dinner  upon  the  veranda  of 
one  of  the  prettiest  little  country  houses  in  Vene/nela.  and 
watched  the  moon  rising  above  the  feathery  palms  that 
crowned  the  opposite  rid^e 

"Well,  I  think  you  must  have  heard  most  of  mine  by 
this  time, "said  the  person  addressed,  who.  with  his  light 
linen  jacket,  brawny  chest,  and  blulf  sunburned  face  half 
buried  in  a  huge  red  beard,  looked  as  little  like  a  professor 
as  he  could  well  do.  "However,  I  don't  think  I  have 
ever  told  you  my  adventure  at  Terra  Calenle,  and  if  it 
serves  as  a  warning  to  my  friend  Smith  yonder  not  to  fall 
asleep  at  the  wrong  time,  I  shall  not  have  suffered  in 
vain. 

"  Three  or  four  years  ago  I  was  upon  one  of  the  forks  of 
the  Upper  Amazon,  having  gone  there  to  try  if  I  couldn't 
manage  to  add  to  my  collection  a  specimen  or  two  of  a 
rare  bird  that  was  said  to  haunt  those  parts.  The  house 
at  which  I  was  staying  belonged  to  an  old  Brazilian  friend 
of  mine,  who  had  a  plantation  there,  which  he  called  Ter- 
ra Calente. 

"Now  'Terra  Calente'  means  'hot  earth,' and  if  he'd 
tried  for  a  week  he  couldn't  have  found  a  better  name  for 
it.  I'd  seen  India,  and  I'd  seen  the  West  Coast  of  Africa, 
but  compared  with  this  place  they  were  a  mere  joke.  Ev- 
ery time  I  went  out  I  came  back  like  a  lump  of  molasses 
candy  wrapped  in  paper;  and  the  night  was  every  bit  as 
bad  as  the  day.  Even  the  negroes  seemed  to  feel  it:  and 
as  for  my  host,  Seflor  Valdez,  he  never  stirred  out  from 
morning  till  night. 

"  I  could  see  that  he  thought  me  no  end  of  a  fool  for 
taking  so  much  trouble  about  a  few  birds,  especially  as  I 
didn't  mean  to  eat  them.  However,  he  was  very  indul- 
gent to  my  'folly,'  good  fellow,  and  let  me  have  the  use 
of  his  guns,  mules,  negroes,  and  what  not,  whenever  I 
liked  to  ask  for  them. 

"But  I  soon  saw  that  my  only  chance  of  getting  what 


I  wanted  was  to  go  alone,  for  the  negroes  kept  up  such  a 
jabbering  all  the  time  that  they  frightened  away  everv 
bird  for  a  hundred  yards  round.  It  was  no  use  telling 
'em  to  be  quiet,  for  they  couldn't  do  it  if  they  tried;  so  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  try  my  luck  single-handed,  and  early 
one  morning  I  took  a  canoe  and  started  up  the  river  by 
myself. 

"You've  been  in  the  tropical  forests  yourselves,  boys,  so 
you  can  guess  what  a  pretty  concert  I  had  to  listen  to  just 
at  lirst,  from  the  roar  of  t he  jaguar  down  to  the  screeching 
of  the  parrots  and  the  chattering-  of  the  monkeys.  But 
as  the  sun  mounted,  and  the  day  grew  hotter,  all  this  up- 
roar died  away,  and  a  silence  came  down  upon  the  whole 
lon^t  that  .seemed  to  weigh  on  one  like  a  night  mare.  Ev- 
erything seemed  to  he  asleep  at  once.  The  great  banner- 
like  leaves  of  the  fan-palms  and  bananas  drooped  la/.iiv 
on  the  hoi.  moist  air,  the  thick  brown  water  of  the  river 
looked  as  if  il  were  standing  quite  still  between  its  low, 
muddy  hanks,  the  great  mass  of  forest  in  the  background 
was  silent  as  death,  and  far  overhead  a  few  white  clouds 
were  Moating  dreamily  upon  the  warm  rich  blue  of  the 
tropical  sky  as  if  they  were  sleeping  too. 

"  If  I  hadn't  had  to  paddle  against  the  stream,  I  almost 
think  I  should  have  gone  to  sleep  myself,  but  all  at  once  I 
caught  sigh!  of  something  that  fetched  me  up  broad  awake 
in  a  monieni 

"Kiu'ht  in  front  of  me.  not  lifty  yards  off,  one  of  the 
very  birds  that  I'd  been  hunting  for  so  long  in  vain  was 
sittini:-  on  a  projecting  bough,  motionless  as  a  statue.  I 
pushed  up  the  stream  toward  it.  holding  my  breath,  and 
moving  my  paddles  as  gingerly  as  if  there  was  a  box  of 
nitre-glycerine  at  the  end  of  each,  till  I  was  quite  sure  of 
my  shot,  and  then  I  let  fly,  and  brought  it  down,  and  had 
i!  siiuir  in  the  boat  almost  before  the  echo  of  the  shot  had 
done  ringing. 

"Having  got  what  I  wanted,  I  drew  in  my  paddles, 

and  let  my  ca •  Moat  down  stream  again.  But  I  soon 

found  myself  getting  so  sleepy,  with  the  heat  and  with  the 
long  pull  I'd  had,  that  I  was  afraid  of  napping  off  alto- 
gether, and  Mo:. ting  right  past  the  house  without  knowing 
il.  So  I  ran  my  boat  in  under  the  shade  of  a  huge  'locust 
wood,'  jammed  the  bow  firmly  among  the  enormous  reeds, 
which  were  higher  than  a  man  on  horseback,  and  without 
ever  thinking  what  a  fearful  risk  I  was  running,  fell  fast 
asleep. 

"Then  I  had  a  very  queer  dream.  I  dreamed  that  I 
was  an  Eastern  king,  sitting  on  a  great  high  throne,  and 
a  lion  standing  before  me  with  a  bootjack  between  his 
paws  trying  to  pull  my  boots  off.  But  Mr.  Lion  natural- 
ly handled  his  instrument  rather  clumsily,  and  jogged 
my  foot  to  and  fro  so  awkwardly  that  at  last  I  awoke  with 
a  start. 

"  I've  had  one  or  two  pretty  bad  frights  in  my  time,  but 
nothing  like  that  moment.  The  first  thing  I  saw  was  the 
head  of  a  monstrous  boa-constrictor  (the  rest  of  it  was  hid- 
den by  the  reeds),  licking  my  foot,  preparatory,  as  it  in- 
stantly flashed  upon  me,  to  swallowing  me  whole. 

"For  an  instant  I  was  so  scared  that  I  couldn't  even 
think,  but  just  lay  still  and  looked  at  the  creature.  But 
there  was  110  time  to  be  lost.  I  knew  that  if  I  startled  the 
snake  it  would  attack  me  at  once,  so,  keeping'  my  foot  as 
still  as  I  could,  for  my  flesh  was  fairly  creeping  with  dis- 
gust at  the  brute's  slimy  touch,  I  felt  for  my  gun.  By 
good  luck  I  was  so  placed — with  my  back  against  the  side 
of  the  boat — that  I  could  lire  without  getting  up.  I  let 
fly,  and  hit  it  full  in  the  head. 

"  Instantly  it  reared  up  in  the  air  with  a  horrible  sharp 
h'iss,  showing  enough  of  its  length  to  let  me  see  what  an 
enormous  size  it  must  be.  Quick  as  lightning,  I  seized 
the  paddles,  and  shot  down  the  stream  like  a.  rocket,  look- 
ing back  just  in  time  to  see  that  the  boa  must  be  hard  hit, 
for  the  blood  was  dropping  fast  from  its  head. 

"AVhen  I  got  home  with  the  news,  old  Vaklez  jumped 


220 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


up  like  a  boy,  for  he  hated  all  big  snakes  mortally  ever 
since  one  had  killed  his  favorite  horse  some  years  before. 
He  ordered  out  his  negroes,  got  down  his  big  Spanish  trn- 
liiicii  (blunderbuss),  which  would  throw  half  a  dozen  balls 
at  once,  and  away  we  went. 

"It  was  easy  to  find  the  spot  again,  the  tree  under 
which  I'd  slept  being  the  tallest  anywhere  near,  and  the 
serpent  had  left  us  traces  enough  in  the  crushed  reeds  and 
the  red  stains  upon  them.  Suddenly  one  of  the  negroes 
jumped  back  with  a  halloo.  Instantly  there  came  a  crash 
among  the  reeds,  and  a  thud  like  a  sail  flapping  in  the 
wind,  and  down  went  poor  Sambo,  squealing  and  roaring, 
with  his  shoulder-blade  broken  by  a  whack  of  the  snake's 
tail. 

"This,  however,  was  the  old  fellow's  last  exploit,  for 
while  another  negro  smashed  his  tail  with  a  club,  I  dosed 
him  with  two  charges  of  buckshot,  and  Valdez  gave  him 
all  the  bullets  in  the  blunderbuss,  and  he  couldn't  well  do 
less  than  die  after  all  that.  When  we  came  to  measure 
him,  he  was  a  little  over  thirty-seven  feet  in  length  with- 
out the  head.  Valdez  had  him  stuffed  and  hung  up  in  the 
house,  and,  for  all  I  know,  he  may  be  there  yet." 


THE  SNOW-BALL  JURY. 

BY  WILLIAM  O.  STODDAKD. 

BOYS!     Boys!     Come  oil!     Here's  some  fun  !" 
"  What's  a-going  ?     What  is  it  ?" 

The  shouts  were  excited  and  long-drawn,  and  so  was  the 
answer : 

"  The  o-irls  are  pelting  Bill  Henderson  'cause  he  sassed 
the  school-ma'am.  Come  o-o-on!" 

They  were  coming,  for  school  had  not  been  out  three 
minutes,  and  none  of  them  had  gone  far  from  it.  There 
had  been  trouble  in  the  little  school-house  of  late,  and 
Bill  Henderson  had  been  at  the  bottom  of  a  good  deal 
of  it. 

It  was  not  altogether  because  he  was  so  very  bad  a  boy, 
but  he  felt  it  a  little  hard  to  be  as  big  as  he  was,  and  to  In- 
bullied  for  his  blunders  by  so  very  small  a  woman  as  the 
school  trustees  had  chosen  for  a  teacher  that  winter.  It 
might  have  been  different  if  there  had  been  any  boy  a  lit- 
tle taller  to  set  him  a  good  example,  but  all  the  tall  boys 
in  the  district  were  attending  school  at  the  Academy. 
Thus  Bill  was  left  to  settle  his  difficulties  in  his  own  way, 
and  he  had  not  yet  been  able  to  settle  them  at  all,  for  lit- 


tle  Miss  Varick  refused  to  have  mercy  on  his  mistakes  of 
any  kind.  What  made  it  worse  was  that  she  told  him, 
three  or  four  times  a  day,  that  she  was  his  best  friend,  and 
wanted  to  help  make  a  man  of  him. 

Bill  could  have  stood  a  great  many  things  better  than 
he  could  that,  for  he  felt  that  he  was  quite  near  enough  to 
being  a  man  to  be  sent  to  the  Academy. 

There  were  other  boys  in  the  District  School,  but  none 
of  them  were  large  enough  to  interfere  much  with  Bill, 
and  he  had  his  own  way  a  good  deal  in  any  out-of-door 
matters.      There   were    not 
even    any    large    girls,  but 
there  was  a  perfect  swarm 
of  small  ones,  and  Miss  Var- 
ick had  somehow  persuaded 
them  all  that  she  had  come 
among  them   as   a   sort  of 
guardian  angel. 

That  was  why  there  was 
such  a  sudden  silence  along 
the  lower  benches,  and  such 
a  buzz  after  it  that  after- 
noon, when  Bill  Henderson 
roundly  declared, . 

"  I  won't  spell  it  again !" 
"You    won't,   William? 
Did    you    say    'I    won't'  ? 
Spell  it  again,  sir." 

"  I  won't.     I  don't  mean 
to  let  any  woman  boss  me." 
"Spell  it,  sir!" 

Bill  held  down  his  head  sulkily,  but  he  did  not  open 
his  lips  again  in  reply  to  Miss  Varick's  further  remarks, 
of  which  there  were  many,  except  at  the  end  of  them, 
when  he  again  blurted  out, 

' '  I  won't  be  kept  after  school,  neither  — -  not  by  any 
woman." 

He  had  not  been  looking  at  the  rows  of  little  faces 
on  those  benches,  and  if  he  had  it  would  not  have  oc- 
curred to  him  how  many  little  women  were  sitting  there, 
not  one  of  them  comparing  in  point  of  size  with  even  lit- 
tle Miss  Varick. 

Particularly  he  had  failed  to  see  the  look  of  wrath  in 
the  black  eyes  of  Polly  Burbank,  and  he  had  no  notion  of 
what  made  her  buzz  around  so  among  the  other  girls  the 
moment  Miss  Varick  struck  the  small  brass  tea-bell  on  her 
desk,  and  said : 

"School  is  dismissed.  I  will  see  William  Henderson 
again  about  this  half  an  hour  before  school  opens  to-mor- 
row morning.'1 

There  was  a  sound  of  something  to  come  in  the  clear 
tones  of  the  school-ma'am's  voice,  and  Bill's  head  was  still 
hanging  a  little  when  he  slouched  out  of  the  door,  and  be- 
gan to  trudge  along  the  road  toward  home. 
"Now,  girls,  let's  pelt  him." 

It  was  Polly  Burbank's  shrill  treble  that  he  heard  say- 
ing that,  and  she  had  a  snow-ball  ready-made  to  show 
what  she  meant.  It  was  not  a  very  big  or  hard  one,  but 
it  hit  him  just  under  the  left  ear,  and  Kate  Sullivan  fol- 
lowed it  with  another  that  went  into  his  neck.  At  any 
other  time  lie  might  have  set  to  work  and  snow-balled 
back  again,  but  he  knew  somehow  that  Miss  Varick  was 
watching  the  fun  from  the  window,  and  that  she  heard 
Polly  Burbank  shout  again:  "Pelt  him,  girls.  He  said 
she  was  nothing  but  a  woman.'' 

That  was  the  crime  he  had  committed,  and  he  felt 
meaner  and  meaner  about  it  with  every  small  globe  of 
packed  snow  that  hit  him. 

"Pelt  him,  Polly!  Pelt  him,  girls!  We'll  stand  by 
you." 

Bill  hardly  cared  what  boy  it  was  that  said  that;  but 
lie  knew  they  were  coming  back,  and  following  along  to 
see  f.-iir  play,  and  that  they  would  all  be  against  him  if 


FEBRUARY  r,,  18S3. 


IIARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


221 


lie  dared  rebel  too  savagely  against  his  small  tormentors. 
They  grew  -worst-  and  worse  as  he  walked  faster  and  fast- 
er, and  lie  was  thinking  whether  or  not  it  would  pay  to 
run,  when  who  should  drive  along  but  Mrs.  Dillaway,  the 
minister's  wife,  in  her  old  red  cutter,  with  old  Miss  Burns 
beside  her. 

"Girls!  girls!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dillaway,  "what  are 
you  all  about  .'" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Burns,  "what  on  yearth  are  they  up 
to  :" 

"  Pelting  Bill  Henderson, ''shouted  Polly  Burbank.  "  be- 
cause he  sassetl  the  school-ma'am.  Said  he  wouldn't  mind 
a  \\  oinan." 

"He  did,  ilid  he  .'" 

"  He  wouldn't,  would  he  '." 

Bill  lifted  his  head,  and  was  just  about  to  say  some- 
thing, when  a  small  girl  with  very  red  hair  tbrew  a  big 
ball  of  half-packed  snow  with  so  good  an  aim  that  his 
mouth  was  too  full  of  it  for  a  word  lo  come  out. 

"Drive  on,  Mrs.  Dillaway."  said  Miss  Burns.  "Let  Viu 
make,  an  awful  example  of  him.  It's  high  time  sech  talk 
was  put  an  end  to.  Nothing  but  a  woman!  I  declare!" 

.If  Bill  had  run  just  then,  it  would  have  looked  as  if  lie 
were  trying  to  catch  a  ride  on  that  very  cutter,  and  he 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  that.  He  walked  as  fast 
as  he  knew  how.  but  so  did  all  the  other  boys,  anil  by 
common  consent  not  one  of  them  threw  so  much  as  an 
ounce  of  snow  at  him.  They  left  all  that  to  the  girls; 
but  they  could  not  help  packing  a  feu  lirsl  rati-  snou 
balls,  and  handing  them  around,  like  so  many  ready- 
made  cartridges  in  time  of  war. 

Polly  Burbank    was   everywhere,   all   around   her   vic- 
tim, and  so  was  Kate  Sullivan,  and  so  was  the   little  girl 
with  the  very  red  hair;  but  some  of  the  ol  IHTS  were  l»'i;m 
ning  to  get  tired,  and  drop  olf  toward  their  own  homes, 
when  Bill  drew  near  the  gate  of  his  father's  house,      lie 


had  been  walking  somewhat  more  slowly  for  the  last  few 
rods,  and  bail  looked  up  now  and  then  as  if  he  wanted  to 
know  if  there  was  any  one  in  that  front  yard. 

The  girls  had  done  the  same,  but  there  had  been  no 
one  visible  until  just  as  Bill  reached  the  gate,  and  Polly 
shouted : 

"  Give  him  one  more  pelt,  girls !" 

She  was  barely  ten  years  old  herself,  but  the  tall,  Eo- 
maii-nosed  woman  who  came  suddenly  out  on  the  door 
step  was  four  times  that  at  least,  and  the  youngest  of  the 
three  shorter  ladies  who  followed  her  was  nearly  twenty. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?  William,  my  son,  what's 
the  matter  ;" 

William  had  no  answer  in  a  good  shape  to  give,  but 
there  were  four  or  live  eager  voices  quite  ready  to  explain 
the  matter,  ami  then  he  almost  wished  he  had  gone  in  the 
opposite  direction  when  he  left  the  school-house.  His 
mother  and  his  two  aunts  and  his  sister — not  one  of  them 
but  took  the  words  right  out  of  Polly  Bin-bank's  mouth, 
and  said  them  all  over,  with  a  good  many  more  like  them. 

"Pelted  home  from  school  by  all  the  girls!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  HendiTson  at  last,  with  a  very  red  face.  "Come 
right  in  here,  William.  I'm  a  woman  myself.  We'll  see 
about  this.  Go  home,  girls,  all  of  you." 

"Mother."  said  his  sister,  "we'd  all  better  go  to  the 
school-house  with  William  to-morrow  morning." 

"Of  course  ue  \\ill. "said  both  his  aunts  in  a  breath; 
but  they  could  hear  Polly  Burbank  say  to  little  Kate 
i  Icnderson : 

"Did  you  hear  that  i  Guess  he'd  rather  be  pelted, 
don't  \  on  '" 

"Guess  he  would;  but  we've  done  all  we  could  for 
him." 

So  they  had,  and  that  was  the  last  rebellion  of  the  kind 
that  took  place  during  all  the  time  Miss  Yarick  taught  iu 
that  district. 


..   - 


i    .'.'..,*'' "T     .          •*& 


^tfc 


WINTER    SPORTS    IN    NORWAY— A    SLING-SLED. 


222 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV 


NEAI:  PEIIHAM,  MASSACIU-SFTTS. 

My  papa  says  tliat  he  can  discover  something 
worth  reading  in  almost  every  paper.  Still,  of 
all  juvenile  publications,  beseems  to  favor  YOUNO 
PEOPLE  tlir  most,  and  sends  it  to  me  regularly, 
lli>  matter  how  far  he  may  be  away,  and  1  am 
very  thankful,  for  it.  is  so  excellent  that  even  my 
much  uliler  brother  delights  in  reading  it.  The 
pictures  are  so  appropriate,  anil  the  storv  of 
"Nan"  in  particular  has  become  so  attractive, 
that  I  can  scarcely  wait  the  time  until  the  next 
number  arrives.  I  am  a  girl  of  about  twelve 
years  of  age.  My  dear  mother  died  nearly  five 
years  ago.  The' kindest  of  aunties  takes  her 
place  as  far  as  she  can. 

We  live  on  a.  farm  four  miles  from  school,  and 
with  nine  other  children,  the  youngest  only  five 
years,  leave  home  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  return  at.  nearly  five  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing. We  love  to  go  to  school,  and  have  lots  of 
fun  on  our  way.  At  this  season  of  the  year  we 
take  our  sleds  with  us,  or  go  sliding  on  the  ice 
through  the  thick  woods.  In  spring  and  sum- 
mer we  pick  flowers  on  the  road,  and  our  teach- 
er explains  them  to  us.  There  are  quantities  of 
lierries  all  along  the  road-sides  in  the  season,  and 
we  can't  help  stopping  to  pick  some  of  them,  but 
we  seldom  are  too  late  for  school  on  that  ac- 
count. 

of  course  we  take  a  fair  supply  of  luncheon 
\vith  us  to  eat  during  recess.  Fresh-boiled  eggs, 
apples,  sandwiches  with  corned  beef,  ham,  or 
cheese  we  prefer  to  pies  and  cakes,  and  you  ought 
I"  see  what  healthy  appetites  and  rosy  cheeks 
we  bring  borne.  Are  not  we  to  be  en  vied  in  spite 
of  some  disadvantages '!  Children  in  the  city  have 
no  better  times.  OTTILIE  M.  E. 


have  two  little  cousins  who  live  in  Florida,  on  the 
bank  of  Lake  Santa  Fe.  They  have  all  the  or- 
anges they  can  eat ;  they  are  both  girls.  They 
row  on  the  lake  with  grandpa,  and  have  lots  of 
go...l  times.  I  wrote  a  letter  a  long  time  ago, 
and  forgot  to  mail  it.  CUKA  B.  L. 


NACOQCHKE,  Cumm  v. 

I  will  gladly  give.  Raphael  West  K.  the  desired 
information  about  polishing  shells.  It  is  a  com- 
mon practice  to  remove  tin;  strong  epidermis  by 
the  use  of  acids,  but  this  is  a  hazardous  and  le- 
ilious  mode  of  operating.  The  best  method  is  to 
put  the  shells  into  a  pan  of  cold  water  with  a 
quantity  of  quicklime,  and  boil  it  from  two  to 
four  boms,  according  to  the  thickness  of  the  epi- 
dermis. The  shells  afterward  must  be  gradually 
cooled,  and  some  strong  acid  applied  to  the  epi- 
dermis, when  it  will  easily  peel  off.  Two  hours 
are  sufficient  for  the  boiling  of  the  common  mus- 
sel. The  shells  are  afterward  polished  with  rot- 
ten-stone and  oil  put  on  a  pii of  leather.  The 

epidermis  of  the  I'mi  margaretifera  requires  from 
tour  to  live  hours' boiling.'  After  it  is  removed,  a 
thick  layer  of  matter  resembling  lime  will  be 
found,  which  must  be  started  off  with  a  knife  or 
other  sharp  instrument.  Various  turbos  and  tro- 
ehuses  are  deprived  of  their  epidermis  and  pol- 
ished by  means  of  tiles,  pumice-stone,  sand-paper, 
etc. ,  until  the  pearly  appearance  is  obtained.  Aft- 
er tht:  operation  of  polishing,  a  little  Florence  oil 
should  be  rubbed  over  to  bring  out  the  colors. 

JOHN  It.  G. 

Epidermis  is  a  hard  word,  and  some  little  read- 
er may  wonder  what  it  means.  It  is  the  outer 
skin  simply. 


DEI.AFIKLI-.  Wi*.-"-,-^. 

I  think  that  Rosalie  R.  was  right  about  the  red 
hands.  I  don't  like  my  mamma  to  have  rough  or 
red  hands.  Will  you  please  tell  me  how  to  make 
a  little  mop  for  mamma  to  wash  dishes  with?  I 
live  on  a  large  farm  about  eight  miles  from  the 
beautiful  Hethesda  Spring,  which  is  a  very  pretty 
place.  A  great  many  people  come  to  spend  the 
summer  in  Wankesha  County,  and  the  children 
like  it.  It  is  very  much  cooler  than  in  the  city. 
I  am  nine  years  old.  I  have  not  been  to  school, 
for  when  quite  a  small  boy  I  bad  the  rheumatic 
fever,  and  mamma  thinks  it  better  for  me  to  re- 
main at  home  for  a  year  or  two.  T.  F.  S. 

Take  a  sni'"  it  h  round  stick,  and  with  your  pen- 
knife cut  a  little  groove  about  half  an  inch  from 
the  end.  Then  tie  long  loops  of  soft  darning  cot 
ton  very  tightly  to  the  stick,  fastening  them  with 
twisted  cords  around  the  groove.  I  am  pleased 
to  know  a  boy  who  wishes  to  save  his  mamma's 
hands.  I  am  sure  his  feet  run  on  errands,  and 
save  hers  from  many  steps 


L'OBT  S.-i.rr,  K  »\SAS. 

I  am  a  girl  ten  years  old.  I  have  not  seen  any 
letters  from  this  place,  so  I  thought  I  would  write 
one.  I  have  no  pels  of  my  own  to  tell  about,  but 
my  sister  Nellie  has  a  female  bird,  and  my  mam- 
ma a  male,  and  brother  Harry  has  a  dog  named 
Prince.  Nellie  also  has  two  cats  ;  the  biggest  <  ine 
is  black  and  yellow,  and  the  smallest  une  is  blac 
and  white. 

1  like  HARPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPLE  very  much,  and 
like  to  read  the  letters  in  Our  Post-office  Box.    I 


FORT  ERIK,  ONTARIO,  CANADA. 

You  will  perceive  from  the  heading  of  my  let- 
ter that  I  am  a  subject  of  her  Majesty  Queen  Vic- 
toria. I  am  the  eldest  of  a  little  family  of  four- 
two  brothers  and  a  I  it  tie  sister  fifteen  months  old. 
\\V  live  on  the  bank  of  1  he  Niagara  Kiver.  a  short 
distance  above  where  the  International  Bridge 
crosses  to  Buffalo,  and  are  very  much  attached 
to  our  home,  as  it  was  given  to  my  great-grand- 
father il'.eniamin  Wintemulei  by  King  George 
the  Fourth  just  after  the  war  of  1770.  My  grand- 
aunt,  to  whom  it  now  belongs,  was  born  on  this 
spot  a  little  over  eighty  eight  years  ago,  and  is  a 
wonderfully  bright  old  lady  still,  but.  I  am  sorry 
to  tell  you,  is  almost  blind."  1  have  a  great  deal 
of  pleasure  attending  to  her  many  wants,  and 
helping  lo  nurse  her  when  she  is  not  very  well. 
I  am  afraid  you  will  laugh  at  the  idea  of  a  little 
girl  of  ten  years  being  a  nurse,  but  she  fancies  1 
do  everything  for  her  better  than  any  one  else. 

Papa  has  bought  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  me  from 
the  first  number,  and  I  read  it  to  my  brothers. 
We  enjoy  the  Post-office  Box  exceedingly;  also 
the  many  interesting  stories.  I  have  not  been  at 
school  very  much.  I  went  for  a  short  time  to  a 
private  school  in  Buffalo,  but  my  old  auntie  fret- 
ted so  continually  about  my  crossing  the  river 
every  day  on  the  ferry-boat  that  mamma  thought 
it  best  to  have  me  taught  at  home  ;  but  I  do  not 
gel  on  as  well  as  she  would  wish,  and  fearing  you 
might  not  be  able  to  read  my  letter  if  I  wrote  it 
m  -elf,  I  have  asked  mamma  to  write  for  me. 

We  too  have  a  parrot,  our  only  pet  except  the 
baby  ;  but  Polly  is  very  naughty  to  Baby  Marga- 
ret, and  gives  her  a  bite  every  chance  she  has. 
Perhaps  she  intends  them  as  kisses. 

I  hope,  dear  Postmistress,  you  will  not  think 
my  letter  too  long  to  publish,  for  I  would  so  like 
to  see  it  in  the  Box.  MAKY  E.  L. 

I  think  that,  even  if  you  do  not  learn  quite  so 
many  things  from  books  as  you  might  by  attend- 
ing school,  you  will  suffer  110  real  loss,  but  will 
make  it  all  up  when  you  are  a  little  older.  It  is 
a  very  beautiful  thing  you  are  doing  in  adding 
pleasure  to  the  life  of  an  aged  relative,  and  I  have 
made  a  pretty  picture  in  my  mind  of  a  fairy-like 
little  figure  flitting  about  to  minister  to  a  white- 
haired  lady  in  her  easy-chair.  Lessons  of  love. 
patience,  and  tenderness  are  worth  as  much  in 
education  as  lessons  in  grammar  and  geography. 


BALTIMORE,  MARYLAND. 

I  am  a  little  boy.  I  was  five  years  old  last 
tnonth.  I  have  a  hobby-horse  two  years  old,  a 
sled  one  year  old,  and  a  velocipede  tliat  was  new 
Christmas.  My  uncle  gave  me  some  ten-pins.  I 
have  an  express  wagon  and  a  cattle  show,  besides 
a  U'i'id  many  smaller  things.  I  have  no  live  pets 
but  mamma's  canary-bird,  which  is  a  pet  for  all 
of  us :  he  is  named  Pete,  and  will  be  eight  years 
old  the  1st  of  May.  YVhen  papa  points  his  finger 
at  Pete  he  ruffles  up  bis  feathers  and  flies  toward 
him  in  a  very  cross  way,  but  never  pecks  him,  as 
he  only  means  to  play.  I  have  no  brothers  or 
sisters,  like  most  of  tin'  children  who  write  to 
Yorxi;  PKOIM.K;  my  little  baby  brother  died  last 
year,  anil  another  brother  died  a  long  time  ago. 
I  have  been  taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  the  Val- 
entine number ;  mamma  or  papa  reads  it  to  me. 
I  have  been  going  to  school  to  mamma  since  the 
summer  vacation  closed,  and  can  read  in  my 
primer  all  that  I've  been  over.  "  Wourf"  and 
"could1'  are  the  biggest,  words  I've  learned,  and 
I  can  spell  them  off  the  book  I  want  to  learn  as 
fast  as  I  can,  so  that  I  can  read  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
for  myself.  I  have  about  five  hundred  picture 
cards,  some  very  pretty  ones,  some  very  funny; 
mamma  is  going  to  put  them  in  a  scrap-book 
which  was  given  to  me  Christmas.  Mamma  is 
writing,  and  I  am  telling  her  what  to  write.  I 
have  been  too  sick  to  go  out  since  Christinas; 
took  cold,  and  have  to  stay  in  the  house  until  the 
weather  gats  good  ;  then  I  am  going  to  get  a 
train  of  cars  for  taking  my  medicine.  It  has  been 
pretty  hard  to  stay  in  the  house  when  there  was 
such  nice  snow  this  week.  I  hope  my  letter  is 
not  too  long  to  print.  I  will  write  again  some 
time.  HOWARD  F.  W. 

I  hope  the  train  of  cars  puffs  along  like  light- 
ning, and  quite  pays  you  for  having  taken  bitter 
medicine  like  a  little  man. 


HVNTSVILI.K,  ALABAMA. 

I've  got  a  cat  and  a  little  sister.  Her  name  is 
Claude  VerdiitC.— I  mean  my  little  sissie  has  that 
name:  and  she  is  beautiful,  too,  so  Laura  says. 
Laura,  is  nurse.  My  cat  is  named  Nona  Winter. 
I  am  five  years  old.  and  I  talk  with  my  mamma  in 
French  \\heue\er  1  wish.  Mamma  talks  French 
to  me,  and  has  taught  me  French,  so  that  I  shall 
know  the  language  of  her  ancestors.  That's  a 
big  word,  for  sure.  Uncle  Frank  loaned  me  the 
tise  of  that  word  ;  he's  a.  newspaper  man.  and  has 
promised  me  a  pair  of  cupper-toed  boots  for  next 
Christinas.  <  Hi,  but  didn't  I  pop  fire-crackers  thai 
day !  Dot  didn't  like  it  much— Dot  is  my  dog.  I 


reckon  I  ought  to  mention  papa,  because  he  is  a 
good  one,  certain.  I've  got  a  letter  from  a  beau- 
tiful young  lady  who  is  visiting  at  Selma. 

Yours  very  fondly,  Li:  VEHT  c. 

You  are  a  happy  boy  to  have  a  beautiful  young 
la.lv  writing  letters  to  you.  in  addition  to  having 
a  good  papa,  a  kind  Vncle  Frank,  and  so  many 

pets  liesides. 

N'lKTHVII  It,   MICHIGAN. 

Tell  Dora  and  Amythat  I  had  seven  turtli  slast. 
summer.  I  kept  them  in  a  pen.  and  had  a  pail  of 
water  in  the  middle  of  it.  I  gave  them  well  wa- 
ter. I  fed  them  bugs  anil  angle  worms.  They 
were  very  lively,  and  1  kept  them  about,  two 
months.  Then  I  got  tired  of  digging  worms,  so  I 
took  them  down  to  the  creek,  and  let  them  go. 
Their  shells  were  always  hard.  I  am  nine  years 
old,  and  have  begun  taking  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE this  year,  and  I  like  it  first-rate. 

EDDIE  ILL. 

RECEIPTS  FROM  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

CAKE  WITHOUT  EGGS. — One  and  a  half  cups  of 
butter,  one  cup  of  sugar,  two  tea-spoonfuls  of 
baking-powder,  three  scant  cups  of  flour,  one  cup 
of  milk,  and  spices  to  suit  the  taste.  Beat  the 
butter  and  sugar  to  a  cream  ;  sift  the  baking- 
powder  into  the  flour  dry  ;  add  the  milk  to  the 
flour,  butler,  and  sugar,  and  after  flouring  the. 
raisins,  add  them  last.  This  cake  is  very  nice 
made  with  one  cup  of  cold  coffee  instead  of  the 
cup  of  milk. 

LEMON  CAKE.— The  grated  rind  and  juice  of 
one  lemon  and  one  cup  of  sugar,  boiled  together 
fill-five  minutes,  make  a  jelly  ;  spread  it  between 
four  layers  of  cake  made  of  one  cup  of  sugar, 
half  a  cup  of  butter,  two  cups  of  flour,  and  one 
tea-spoonful  of  baking-powder.  LETITIA. 

SOFT  GINGERBKEAD.— Half  a  cup  of  melted  Inn  - 
ter,  two  cups  of  molasses,  one  cup  of  sour  milk, 
one  egg,  one  table-spoonful  of  ginger,  two  tea 
spoonfuls  of  soda,  half  a  tea-spoonful  of  salt,  and 
flour  to  make  a  soft  batter.  BESSIE  D. 

HARD  GINGERBREAD.— Rub  one  tea -cupful  of 
butter  into  one  quart  of  sifted  flour  ;  add  one 
table-spoonful  of  ginger,  one  pint  of  molasses, 
and  one  wine-glassful  of  warm  water  in  which 
is  dissolved  one  tea-spoonful  of  soda.  Add  sift- 
ed flour  until  you  can  make  a  stiff  dough.  Roll 
it  out  thin,  and  bake  on  buttered  tins. 

KOSIK  W. 

AUNT  ALMENA'S  GINGERBREAD. — One  cup  of  mo- 
lasses, two  cups  of  flour,  two  tea-spoonfuls  of 
ginger,  one  tea-spoonful  of  salt,  and  one  tea- 
spoonful  of  soda  dissolved  in  a  cup  of  boiling 
water,  and  put  iu  last.  K.  M.  P. 

The  little  cooks  who  try  these  receipts  may 
write  and  tell  me  how  they  succeed,  and  what 
papa  said  when  he  tasted  their  cake  at  ihe  tea- 
table. 

A  member  of  the  Sociable  writes  in  a  sprightly 
way  about  the  trouble  she  had  in  her  mother's 
absence  in  managing  her  "  help,"  who,  having 
been  her  school-mate  the  previous  winter,  felt 
herself  the  equal  of  her  youthful  mistress.  This 
young  lady  lives  in  Washington  Territory.  The 
members  of  our  Sociable  are  scattered  so  widely 
that  their  circumstances  naturally  differ.  In  new 
countries,  for  instance,  people  have  to  avail  them- 
selves of  any  help  they  can  obtain,  and  regular 
servants  are  not  to  be  had.  Some  of  our  little 
girls  are  learning  how  to  do  all  sorts  of  work 
from  their  mothers,  who  keep  no  domestics,  and 
manage  beautifully  without  them.  Others  are 
accustomed  to  households  in  which  a  number  of 
servants  attend  to  the  various  duties  of  the  home. 

One  rule,  dear  girls,  applies  to  yon  all,  wherever 
you  may  be  placed.  Always  control  your  tem- 
pers in  speaking  to  those  whom  you  employ. 
Always  ask  Bridget  or  Dinah  to  do  what  you  re- 
quire. Never  order  her  in  a  lofty  way,  but  re- 
quest her  politely  to  do  this  or  that,  and  do  not 
forget  to  thank  her  for  doing  it. 

In  case  a  neighbor's  daughter  or  a  school-mate 
comes  in  to  help  with  the  family  work,  with  the 
understanding  that  she  is  to  be  one  of  the  fami- 
ly, do  not  keep  her  coldly  at  a  distance,  but  treat 
her  as  you  would  yourself  wish  to  be  treated  if 
you  were  to  change  places  with  her. 


SABETHA, KANSAS. 

Papa  is  holding  my  hand  to  write  to  the  Post- 
office  Box.  He  says  my  Christmas  presents  have 
reduced  him  to  extreme  poverty,  but  as  the  sil- 
ver continues  to  rattle  in  ids  pocket,  I  think  he  is 
not  so  very  poor.  My  papa  is  my  pet,  and  he  is 
the  nicest  papa  in  the  world ;  my  mamma  is  an- 
other one  of  my  pets,  and  my  little  brother, 
whose  name  is  Campbell,  is  my  third  pet.  My 
papa  writes  for  many  papers,  and  wants  me  to 
educate  myself  for  an  artist.  He  draws  nicely, 
and  he  is  teaching  me  to  draw,  and  he  says  I  do 
very  well.  My  papa,  mamma,  anil  Campbell,  who 
are  so  good  and  kind  to  me.  are  all  the  pets  I 
want,  and  I  can  not  love  nor  pet  them  enough. 


r,. 


ii.\i:i'Kii'.s  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


223 


I  suppose  the  young  people  who  read  the  Posl 
« >  th'ee  ]Jox  will  think  my  Ii  >\  e  i-  wasted  1 "  '-.'111--*'  I 

1 1. 1  \  t     in  i  il.iLfN  .  ir  r;il  s         If    M.  i\\'S  ;i  \\flll  hard   lie  n- 

ii'-arly  every  d;iv.  and  tin:  weather  is  very  cold. 
Papa  say  a  be  is  tired.  JULIA  M. 

(!  iNBSBO,  ILLI 

I  want  to  write  to  the  I'ost-oftiee  Hox  to  tell 
you  aooiir  ;i  dear  little  girl  who  used  tow*  Icome 

the  ;irri\:il  Of  YOUNG  PEOPL1  little  t  'Icinie  I{oek- 
well.  I  \\  i>li  I  c"iiM  irivi-  \<>u  a  correct  word 
picture  "1"  her.  Site  w;i"  Bright,  loving,  sympa- 

tllelir.        I    Would    lik''    to    Irll    \ol|    ;i    gund    n;   . 

her  Bright  little  -:i\in:;s  and  yet.  to  he  appre- 
ciated, you  [should  iia\e  heard  them  from  her, 
told  in  lier  pretty,  eute  way.  \\  In  n  - 

nillli-  Mliall  there  \\;is  ;i  h;ink  I'iiilnre  111  (he  to\vil 
\\here  -,he  li\c<i.  \\  hell  hep  papa  e;it(ie  llollie 

that  e\eniir;  »  leitiie  asked  him  wliy  he  had  not 

hfoll-lll      ll'T     Collie    ealldV.        He     aHSW<    I'd.    "  The 

liank  ha>  hui>i.and  >o  I  ha\eift  any  money  ;" 
when  s,de  quickly  repiieil.  "Well,  it  the  hank 
)>nr>t.and  you  were  theiv,\vh\  di'ln't  von  piek 
Up  some  ;•"  1 1  Auri.i:'-  Voi  \<.  I*i;oi'i-i  \\  a--  (  km 
le'a  \eryown  paper  a  » 'hriM  ma-;  prevent  t'n'in 
lier  papa  away  nut  in  Kansas.  It  was  a  irreat  de- 
light to  her.  MS  if  is  to  many  little  folks  M 

a  Satihathse) I   >eh<.lar,  a    liand   of  Hope  £\r\, 

and  a  memher  of  a  little  Mi-Mon  Hand.  Ahoiit 
the  middle  ot  lust  .Irly  this  little  t,;iiid  bad 

nie  in  the  country,  audit  was  a  part  of  their  pro 

gramme  that   each   little  girl  -hoiild  tell  ,i 
.hiM  think  of  it,  ^  01  SO  PEOPLE     i  wenty  different. 
slurirs  in  one  afternoon,  and  told  l>y  twenty  lit- 
tle girls  !     I  think  they  all  enjoyed  this  novel  pie 
nie   Bailie,  and   no  one  more  than  little   rletnie, 

who  repeated  some  of  the- most  interesting  to  her 

mamma  and  >Kter  ;itter  >he  retiinieii   In. me.      A 
little  more  than  two  week^  after  thN  picnii      ' 
31 )  C'lcmie  died  of  malignant   dip! it  h.  i  i.i        \  M  *  r 

she  \\'as'  taken    Sich    her  greatest    de-dn-  seemed  to 

h"  in  see  her  papa, and  when  he  reached  home, 
and  mine  to  her  bed-idc.  -hi-  asked  him  if  lie 
though!  .die  \M.iild  get  well,  and  when  he  seemed 
to  c\  ail--  a  direet  answer,  she  xiid.  "  Trli  me  truly, 
papa,  for  I  am  not  afraid  to  die."  And  88  W6 

thlllk    ot    I  lit-    III!  le    s,  ,11-    s||,-    i]s,-,[    t.  i   sill  i:,  "  Jesus', 

hold  my  little  hand. "we  feel  assured  i  hat  Jesus 
held  her  li\  the  hand  ELS  she  parsed  i>\  er  t  he  rivi  r 
to  her  "  beautiful  home  above." 

Jhts.  <!KO.  K.  W. 

JEAN. -I  liked  your  bright  letter,  and  will  he 
liappy  to  answer  an\  <|iiestions  you  may  >end, 
unless  they  are  too  deep  and  pu/./lhig  for  a  hu-v 
Post  mi  si  res-  ^  on  :itv  right  in  \  our  idra  t  hat  it 
18  Interesting  to  kno\\  \\hy  we  do  tins  ,,r  that. 


'i  (H  Nt;  I'KiU'l.K's  TOT. 

\l,    IRKIRK,    MAIM 

\\  V  that  is.  my  two  si-hT-.  K;ieh.-|  and  Marian 
and  I  heeanie  \ery  iniidi  interested  in  Young 

People's  Cot,  and  we  rc-o|vci|  I .  <  h;i\  .  :i  lair,  and 
give  the  proceeds  to  this  Tot  So  we  \\ork.-d 

tin  rim;  the  summer  vacation  and  in  all  our  spare 
moments,  and  manned  to  make  quite  8  number 
of  pretty  thing-.  The  fair  commenced  on  Fri- 
day, the  ir>th  of  December,  nnd  e)osrd  Saturday 
night.  \Ve  had  only  three  tables -one  for  the 

lane\  g Is,  one  for  llowers.  an<l  one  tor  refresh 

incuts     hut   we  made  .,ne  hundred  dollars,  and 

sell' I   it    to  \  oil,  hoping  it    will  he  of  use  to  you. 

We  had  a  few  nice  contributions  from  friends 

ill  the  neighborhood,  and  Miss  Mair^ie  Ma  her 
made  us  some  nice  f;me\  articles  and  helped  us 
at  the  fair. 

Inclosed  please  find  the  check  and  a  sample  of 
our  tickets.  We  hope  to  sec  this  in  VOTM;  PK.O- 
i-i. K,  and  send  our  hcst  wishes  tor  i  he  BUOC6SS  of 
i  he  ( lol  MATTIE  L.  COFFIN. 

I'll  1 1  AliKI  I'M  I  V     lt^  \NSVLVAMA 

After  receiving  your  kind  letter,  we  immediate- 
ly set  to  work  to  make  our  arrangements  for  our 
little  fair.  We  held  our  fair  on  the  afternoon 
and  evening  of  December  ',".1.  We  made  thirteen 
dollars,  and  we  are  only  sorry  that  it  is  not  as 
much  more.  We  hope  "that  the  poor  sick  chil- 
dren will  somi  have  their  Cot,  and  we  are  glad 
to  add  our  mite.  We  are  nearly  all  readers  of 
ll  \KI'I.I;'S  Yui'Nu  PEOPLE,  and  greatly  eEjoy  the 
Cost  otlicc  Itox.  It  would  please  us  very  much, 
if  you  have  received  this,  to  let  us  know  through 
Yors(;  PEOPLE.  , 

<Ti-,-sn;  MIMHI,,  MABEL  RUSK. 

NELLIE  J.  RIBBEKACK,         IDA  H.  STONE. 

BLANCHE  M.  BAINBHIDUE,    LIZZIE  BAINBRIDGE. 


WATKKTHWN,  M  VSSACHL'SKTTS. 

I  am  a  little  boy  seven  years  old.  I  have  earn- 
ed some  money,  and  been  saving  ray  weekly  al- 
lowance for  Youm:  People's  Cot.  1  send  one  dol- 
lar now.  Perhaps  I  ran  send  more  another  time. 
My  brother  takes  HAIU'KK'S  YOTNI;  PEOPLE,  and 
we  both  dearly  love  to  read  it.  My  mother  writes 
this  for  me.  I  am  afraid  I  can  not  write  well 
enough  for  you  to  read. 

J.  LIVINGSTON  PITMAN. 


•  ry  ill  niysclt  -so  j!l  that  T  was  not  expect- 
ed to  live — and  I  know  how  pleasant  it  is  to  have 
a  dear  mamma  and  pa  pa  a  ml  so  many  kind  friends 
to  take  eare  of  me.  I  have  sent  a  very  little,  hut 
it  i-  all  niy  own.  and  I  thought  Jesus  would  like 
me  to  give  it  for  them.  BESSIE  KIM;>LANI». 


l'i  TN>  ^  ,  Vi:r.\iiiNT. 

1'lease   accept    the   im-luM-d    three   dollars   for 
Y-  Him,'  Peoplt  's   Cot,  With  many  kind   \\  isln-s  tot- 
ruing  year,  fn>m  the  Merry  Gleaners,  of  Put- 
ney. Vermont.     They  rai-i-d  the  nione\  on  ;:  ^iiess 
doll  at  a  fair  which  thej  field  the  last  of  summer. 

The  doll  was  named  by  our  President 's  daughter, 
I  K<  it    M.  Arthur,  and  brought  >i\  dollars.     They 

FOU    t  111  ee.   ;i][d    t  he    ol  hi    r    j,;ill     ^<  ies     to    t  lie 

i  irphans'  Home  at   Turlington.  \Vrniont.      Happy 
New-Year  from  the  Merry  Cleaners. 

janization  of  boys 

ami  girN  connected  with   the  1  ni\crsalist   Sun- 
nool  of    Putnev.   Vernioiit.  and   the)    feel  a 
deep  interest  in  the  children"*.  Hospital 

\  oura  truly,  MK-    I,    .M    >MM.KV. 


DK\I'.  <HILI>KKN,  —  I  \\a>  authori/ed  to  ask 
through  the  post  ,,tiiee  p,. i\  if  any  or  all  of  our 
\oung  IM  IP-  i-s  would  like  to  make  something  for 
a  fair  that  will  he  held  in  Kaster  Week  in  New 
York  city  to  help  on  I  he  fund  for  Young  People's 

Cot.       It    is   to    be   in    charge   of  >ome    of   the    ladies 

v.  nli    our    society,   Holy    Innocent's 

i.iiild.  ot    \\hich   I  am  OUC,  and  we  hope  to  reaeli 

(2000    ivoin  which  point  it  will  not  take  a  greal 

to    reach   ihe    l.uiired  for  *-:iiNm       So    il    ;n,\ 

little  girl  or  boy  would  fi]  •  tnyt  hint:  for 

us.  \\e  \\oiild  he  ver\  glao.  an  1  hope  t'hat  those 
ot  \  on  \\  ho  ii\  e  near  enough  to  the  city  will  come 

e  n<  at   the  ' 
Those   who  \\  jsh  to   help  arc   replies  ted  to  send 

their  article.s  i-ither  hv  mail  or  express.  /</•</„////. 
to  my  add n  -s.  not  lait  r  i  han  March  3D,  and  1  will 
acknowledge  th'-ir  safe  arrival  by  note  if  the 
name  and  address  are  s,.nt  with  the  package. 
Send  lo  M  i-s  v.  N  i  i  -'  IN, 

.nli  M  .  New  York  City. 

Will  those  who  accept  t  he  tm  it  at  ion  eon  tained 

in  the  note  from  our  tricnd   Miss  NcNon  !,-•  very 

careful  to  send  their  contributions  directly  to 

lier.  at  her  address  given  aho\e,  ami   not    to  the 

JfOl      '  •    I ' ' 


Contributl  •  •  d  for  Young  I'cojiii-'s  <  ot, 
in  Holy  IniMM-cnt's  \\'ard.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal for  '  blldren.  i<(.  \\  e!  i  Thiru  roin-th  stn-et  • 


Mahc]  liose.  Ida  i;    >t<  me,  ,i  rn  I 


ST.  Louis,  M^SMI-KI. 

I  thought  I  would  like  to  send  some  money  to 
you  for  the  poor  little  children  who  have  no 'one 
to  take  care  of  them  when  they  are  sick.  I  have 


town,  Ma--  ,  - 1  ;  l'..---ic  K  highland,  St.  I.oiiis,  .*.,  ., 
total,  $1*1  i:  :  prc\  imi-ly  acknowledged, $1598  *•-' ; 
grand  total,  January  10.  Wi,  $irsi  w, 
K.  Ai  <;T>TA  FANMIAWL,  Treasurer,  48  New  St. 


PUZZLES  FROM  Yol'Xi;  CONTKIBUTOES. 


A   POETICAI.   EXEP.i  1-1 

si I  littli>  Mcilly  hy  tho  gate; 

Her  cousin  Arthur  cried,  "  Please  —  —  ; 
There's  coasting  by  the  river-bank ; 
l.t-t's  H(I  fur  Bessie.  .Ti-an,  anrl  — 
saiil    Molly,  "If  the  ice  is  tliin. 

Thriv's  <l;niffer  lest  we  tumble . 

It  risilly  makes  me  creep  and  shake, 

The  thought  of  colds  we  all  would .' 

"  Oh,  little  coz,"  said  Arthur,  "  why 
To  tind  objections  do  you  — 
The  snow  is  firm,  the  air  is  nice, 

And  glitters  brilliantly  the , 

And  on  my  word  you  may  depend 
That  soon  our  winter  spurts  will  —  — ; 
s,,  hn-h  the  fears  that  stir  your  breast. 
And  hurry,  dear:  here  come  the  — 

Then,  skipping  by,  came  Lou  and , 

And  Kittie.  Minnie,  Jack,  and  all  ; 

And  "Do,"  they  cried  and  pleaded , 

With  cheeks  and  lips  like  stars  aglow. 

Then  Molly,  laughing,  answered , 

"  There's  Uncle  Jim,  with  bell  and  book, 

And  by  his  frown  I  fear  we  — 

Kxpect  to  coast  some  other  day, 

Since  some  of  us  with  little  — 

Must  coast  through  fractious,  if  you  please.1 


At  this  they  bade  her  go  to  — 
But  said  they  could  ii"i  be  so  dull. 

Kill  each  M:iuk  spaee  \vith  a  word  tli:it  rhymes 
with  the  tinal  word  of  tin-  precrdili!;  line  The 
initial  letters  of  the  supplied  words  >pell  the 
names  ot  two  American  poets. 

MolMI.K    III  N(  II. 

No.  2. 

TWO  I:M<;MAS. 
1.  In  b:ith,  not  in  M -;ip 

In  twine,  not  in  rope. 

In  black,  not  in  \\  liite 

In  armor,  not  in  knight. 

In  ni^'ht,  not  in  morn. 

In  ^ale,  not  in  storm. 

In  li^'lit.  not  in  run. 

In  priest,  not  in  mm. 

In  tinkle,  not  in  ring. 

In  tail,  not  in  wing 

In  more,  not  in  less. 

In  Waller,  not  in  |!e*- 
My  whole  a  name  \\  e  bold  most  ilenr. 
And  one  the  wide  World  doth  revere 

NEPTUNE. 

XI.  My  first  is  in  silent,  not  in  loud. 

My  M  I'ond  is  in  throng,  not  in  ero\vd. 

My  third  is  in  old,  not  in  ne\v 

M  v  toiirth  is  in  white,  not  in  lih;e. 

My  lil'lb  is  in  ball,  not  in  tup. 

My  sixth  is  in  eea>e.  not  in  stop. 

My  seventh  is  in  little,  not  in  l>ig. 

My  eighth  is  in  lent,  not  in  twig. 

My  whole  is  <  if  ten  found  on  tin-  ground, 

I'm  .sorry  to  sa\  not  all  the  year  round. 

BEATHICK  K. 

... 

HALF-sgrAisE— (  Tn  !lli::iin/\. 
I    Impure  air.     -'.  A   eap  of  state.     :!    I. ashed 
4.  The  maple-tree.    -V  A  peivh.    n.  A  pronoun.    7. 
\  lettei  K.  ('.  Hi. WITT. 

No    I 

Tllltl:i:   I:V*Y   sol    .1  i       FOH    i  rrn.i;  rr/./.l.F,l;s. 
1      t.    A    bird.    x,'.   A   girl's   name.    :i.  A   boy's 

II. Mill 

2.  — 1.  An  animal.  X!.  Something  we  did  this 
morning.  :).  A  number. 

3.— 1.  A  boy's  name.     X.'.  A  mineral.     •']    A  reply. 

.\|AI  HIE. 

\o  :, 

A     1HA.MOM). 

1.  A  letter.  •_'.  T,  i  strike  gently.  :i.  At  the  cx- 
1 1,  mi  end.  i.  Misehievoiis.  :>.  An  ardent  spirit. 


Ii.  A  river.     ',.  A  !•  1 1  er. 


JUNEBUG. 


ANSWKKS  TO  IMXXI.ES  IN  Xo.  168. 

No.  1.  A  thrifty  lady  in  a  dress  of  Paramatta, 
and  carrying  a  Sandal-wood  fan.  w'ent  0111  to 
buy  a  ne\\  ^i  t  ot  rliina.  She  had  a  desire  to 
Bhlne  in  Society,  and  sent  for  her  Three  sisters. 
Mon-nee.  A  HgnMa.  and  Aurora,  to  aid  in  her 
selection.  Having  bought  some  delicate  cups 
and  salleers  from  l-Yanee.  plates  from  Berlin, 
and  carved  platters  from  the  Alps,  she'  |H-oeeed- 
i  'I  lo  order  a  supper.  She  bought  wheat,  tigs, 
grapes,  sardines,  and  many  other  things  Light- 
ing her  saloon,  she  found  the  Wick  of  the'  can 
dies  troublesome,  she  ealle,'  her  servant.  Hen 
Nevis,  and  ordered  him  to  bri.'g  her  oil  from 
the  Sea  of  Oekhotsk.  Her  carpets  were  Brus- 
sels, her  perfumes  came  from  Cologne,  her  eoal 
from  Newcastle,  and  her  knives  and  forks  from 
Sheffield  and  Birmingham. 

No.  2.  G  I! 

I!    II   A  SEA 

<;  o  o  s  E  -  u  E  K  Ii  Y 

ASP  ART 

E  Y 

No.  3.  When  winter  winds  are  piercing  chill. 

And  through  the  hawthorn  blows  the  gale, 
With  solemn  feet  I  tread  the  bill 
That  overbrows  the  lonely  vale. 

Where,  twisted  round  the  barren  oak, 
The  summer  vine  in  beauty  clung. 

And  summer  winds  the  stillness  broke. 
The  crystal  icicle  is  hung. 

Alas!  how  changed  from  the  fair  scene 
When  birds  sang  out  their  mellow  lay. 

And  winds  were  soft  and  woods  were  green, 
And  the  song  ceased  not  with  tho  day. 
— LONGFELLOW.     Woods  in  Winter. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  A.  Reno.  "W.  II.  Kat."  Walter  May.  "r  he 
Uangue,"  Alfred  M.  Bloomingdale.  Martin  Zuill. 
"Twilight, "Grace  Curtis.  Rob  s..  "(ieo  Logist," 
Caroline,  Jane  Lyman.  Mollie  Penrsall.  Mat  tie  and 
Bessie  McCoy,  Arthur  James,  Frank  Newman, 
John  R.  (ireen.  Mary  M.  Bracket!.  Lily  II.  Wood, 
Charles  R.  Kirkwood.  Roy  W.  Osbome.  Helen  W. 
Gardner,  Alice  Varian.  J.  B.  D..  Lloyd  Francis, 
Jimmy  Tiee.  Alice  Moffatt.  Frank  Clyde,  Bertie 
Taylor,  Eugene  W.,  Winneld  S.  Jones,  Samuel 
Hayes,  John  McGaffney,  and  Geraldine  Gould. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


224 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


DIDN'T  CARE  A  BIT. 

BY    MAEGAEET    EYTINGE. 


OF  all  the  naughty,  naughty  dogs 

That  ever  I  did  see. 
You  are  the  very  naughtiest, 

To  run  away  from  me. 
And  stay  so  long  lost  in  the  snow. 

Here  I  have  searched  for  you 


Since  twelve  o'clock  to-day,  and  now 
It's  more  than  half  past  two. 

And  you — why.  you  don't  care  a  bit, 
As  I  can  plainly  tell, 

And  if  I  didn't  love  you  so, 
I'd  surely  whip  you  well. 


WHO    WAS    HE? 
BY  I.  E.  OQUOIS. 

HE  was  boru  in  England,  in  a  town  a  few  miles  northwest  of 
London,  in  Warwickshire,  on  the  23d  day  of 
April,  1564.     His  father  was  a  justice  of  the 
peace  at  one  time,  and  a  somewhat  ex- 
tensive dealer  in  wool.     He  was  the 
eldest  of  a  family  of  ten  children. 
He  received  his  early  educa- 
tiou  at  a  free  school,  and 
afterward  was  for  some          /       _£  ->, 

~ 


time  in  an  attorney's  office.  He  was  married  when  he  was 
eighteen  to  a  lady  eight  years  older  than  himself.  He  joined 
a  gang  of  deer-stealers,  and  was  caught  robbing  a  gentleman's 
park.  He  was  prosecuted,  and  to  escape  imprisonment  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  family  and  business  and  take  shelter  in 
London. 

He  was  twenty-two  years  old  at  this  time.  Soon  after  he  went 
to  London  he  became  connected  with  a  theatre  there,  first  in  a 
very  low  position,  as  call-boy  or  prompter.  Later  he  became  an 
actor,  but  did  not  gain  much  of  a  reputation  on  the  stage. 

He  bought  an  interest  in  one  of  the  theatres  in  London.  He 
wrote  a  number  of  plays,  which  were  produced  during  his  life- 
time. 

He  was  a  great  favorite  with  Queen  Elizabeth  and  with  King 
James.  The  latter  wrote  a  letter  praising  his  works,  and  sent  it, 
to  him.  After  1614  ho  did  not  write  any,  but  lived  at  ease  in 
the  same  town  in  which  he  was  boru. 

He  died  on  the  fifty-second  anniversary  of  his  birthday,  Tues- 
day, April  23,  1616.  "lie  was  buried  in  the  north  side  of  the 
chancel  in  the  great  church  in  his  native  town,  and  a  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  was  placed  on  one  of  the  walls. 

He  had  two  daughters  and  one  son.  The  son  died  when  he 
was  twelve  years  old,  but  the  daughters  outlived  their  father. 

In  1741  a  monument  was  erected  to  his  memory  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  The  Dean  and  Chapter  donated  the  ground,  and 
performances  were  given  in  the  London  theatres  to  pay  ex- 
penses. 

A  KNOWING  CARP. 

THE  wonderful  instinct  of  animals  has  been  proved  by  hun- 
dreds of  anecdotes,  so  that  when  another  true  story  is  added 
to  the  already  long  list  we  arc-  scarcely  surprised.     Nevertheless, 
the  following  incident,  which  took  place  in  Vienna,  Austria,  is 
not  without  interest. 

A  cook  went  down  to  the  fish-market  to  make  her  purchases, 
and  stepping  on  board  one  of  the  boats  in  the  canal,  she  was 
at  length  successful  iu  coming  to  terms  for  an  unusually  tine 
carp. 

Now,  as  is  well  known,  the  carp  is  very  fond  of  life,  and 
will  live  out  of  water  for  a  long  time,  if  only  its  gills  be  kept 
moist.  When,  therefore,  the  woman  placed  the  fish  ou  the  top 
of  her  open  market-basket,  the  fisherman  gave  her  a  friendly 
warning,  saying  the  carp  was  not  to  be  trusted,  and  would  be 
sure  to  leap  from  her  basket  if  it  found  a  favorable  opportunity. 
The  cook  only  greeted  these  remarks  with  laughter:  and  indeed 
the  fish  laj'  as  quiet  as  possible,  looking  the  picture  of  resigna- 
tion. 

When,  however,  the  woman  stepped  on  the  board  which  led 
from  the  boat  to  the  quay  of  the  canal,  she  suddenly   became, 
aware  of  a  movement  in  the  basket,  and,  looking 
down,  she  had  only  just  time  to  see  the  carp 
beut  iu  the  form  of  a  bow  before  he  was 
in  the  air.     In  another  second,  much 
to  the  amazement  of  the  woman, 
was  far  out  of  reach  and 
sight  at  the  bottom  of  the 
water. 


' 


*^ XT*  '  ^~^\ 


FUN   ON  THE  ICE— CUBLING. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE' 


ILLUSTRATED 


VOL.  rv.-Nn.  IT: 


PeruLiSHED  i:v   1 1  A  K I '  K  K  A-    1  !U<  >TII  KKS.  X KW  YORK. 


TRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  February  1:1.  1 


Copyright,  11s:i,  by  HABPKK  It  BKOTHKM. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


Y 


WHAT  ST.  NICHOLAS 

FORGOT 

AND  ST.  VALENTINE 
REMEMBERED. 

BY  CIIAHI.KS  S.  PRATT. 

/OUNG  Geoffrey 
Billiard,  lithe, 
dark,  was  very  hand- 
sonic  that.  Christmas- 
day,  gliding1  up  Bea- 
con Street  on  his  shin- 
ing1 bicycle. 

He  had  licen  having 
11  brisk  run  down  the 
Back  Bay — had  raced, 
had  won  ;  and  now, 
as  he  traced  a  graceful 
curve  across  the  broad 
driveway  and  vaulted 
to  the  sidewalk,  his 
cheeks  were  flushed 
and  his  eyes  a-sparkle. 

It  was  the  work  of 
an  instant  to  tilt  the 
airy  wheels  against 
the  iron  fence  of  No. 
40«,  and  deftly  strap 
them  there. 

Then  he  rang  the 
bell ;  and  while  yet  he 
could  hear  the  faint 
ting-a- ling- ling,  the 
great  polished  door 
swung  back  noise- 
lessly. 

He  had  no  chance 
to  ask  for  his  chum 
Thad  of  the  white- 
gloved,  pompous  por- 
ter (who  was  very  like 
the  walnut  -  finished 
hall  in  polish  and  col- 
or.), for  that  young 
fellow,  moved  by  the 
common  instinct  of 
rlmms,  had  spied  him 
from  above,  and  come 
plunging  down  the 
stairs,  and  pitched 
headlong  into  his 
arms. 


226 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


' '  Hello,  Geoff :  And  so  you've  got  it !  How  are  you  ? 
Come  in  ! — come  up !  Jolly  fun  in  the  den — open  grate, 
apples,  oranges,  caramels,  and — 

"Yes,  yes,  anything;  only  hold  in  a  bit  till  we're  there, 
and  I'll  answer,"  cried  Geoff,  as  lie  got  his  breath. 

Up  two  nights  Thad  dragged  his  chum,  and  into  a  boy's 
room — "as  was  a  room,"  Geoff  always  declared.  Would 
that  every  boy  had  one  like  it! — large,  .sunny  by  day,  and 
airy  always,  looking  out  over  the  beautiful  Public  Garden 
and  lower  Common;  no  stuffy  carpet,  but  a  polished  oak 
floor,  with  a  great  Turkish  rug  in  the  centre;  bed,  easy- 
chairs,  lounge,  all  of  light  springy  rattan,  with  :i  ribbon 
run  in  the  edges;  a  bamboo  table  littered  with  books,  pen- 
cils, brushes  and  colors,  knives,  boxing-gloves,  base  andfoot 
balls,  the  late  magazines,  and  numberless  articles  nameless 
save  to  a  modern  boy.  In  one  corner  were  bats  and  a 
pair  of  carved  Indian  clubs;  on  the  walls  were  crossed  a 
pair  of  fencing  foils,  and  a  rifle  hung  from  branching 
deer  horns.  And  there  were  pictures  of  warm  color  and 
noble  suggestion.  There  was  a  large  photograph  of  Ba- 
con's painting  of  Boston  boys  demanding  of  the  British 
General  Gage  (just  above  on  that  same  Beacon  Street  a 
hundred  years  ago)  the  liberty  of  the  coasting-ground  on 
the  Common,  and  a  strange,  fascinating  picture  of  the 
Children's  Crusade.  In  the  window  hung  and  swung  and 
sung  a  frivolous  mocking-bird. 

Thad's  father  believed  in  study  and  schools,  but  he  be- 
lieved also  and  had  always  taught  Thad  that  brain  was  of 
little  account  in  this  world  without  muscle,  so,  as  you  see, 
Thad  was  growing  both. 

"Have  a  lounge,  Geoff.  How  do  you  like  it  ?  Was  it 
in  your  stocking  ?"  chattered  Thad. 

"  Like  what — the  lounge  ?     First-rate." 

"No,  your  bicycle.  Shiny,  ain't  it?  Goes  like  the 
wind,  too;  saw  you  down  the  drive." 

"Oh,  oh,  that's  Tom's,  and  this  suit's  his  —  cap,  leg- 
gings, and  all.  You  see  I'm  as  big  as  he  is,  thanks  to 
your  muscle-makers,  I  s'pose,  eh,  Thad  ?"  Geoffrey  nodded 
at  the  Indian  clubs  and  dumb-bells. 

"No  '  s'pose' at  all;  sure  as  sure,  "and  Thad  struck  out 
two  sinewy  arms  with  a  look  of  pardonable  pride. 

"But  I  did  have  a  bicycle  in  my  stocking,  at  least 
what  will  soon  change  to  one."  Geoff  took  a  folded  pa- 
per from  his  pocket-book,  and  tossed  it  to  his  chum. 

"Check  on  North  National  for  fifty!  Good  enough, 
Geoff!  'Twill  pay  for  bicycle  and  all  the  fixin's.  When 
'11  you  get  it  ?  Pope  Manufacturing  Company's  the  place 
—  went  down  there  the  other  day — told  papa  'twould  take 
that  for  the  right  kind.  That's  how  /  came  to  have  just 
fifty,  I  suppose." 

"  What!  did  you  get  a  check  too?" 

Thad  smilingly  handed  his  friend  a  second  North  Na- 
tional check,  and  for  the  same  amount.  The  two  fathers 
were  partners,  and  had  evidently  conspired. 

"Hurrah,  that  is  good!"  cried  Geoff,  and  he  threw  the 
foot-ball  he  had  been  blowing  up  at  Thad's  head. 

Thad  seized  the  missile  by  a  flying  catch,  hurled  it  back, 
and  a  skirmish  ensued,  which  only  the  boys  who  have 
been  there  can  imagine. 

Peace  restored,  Geoff  exclaimed,  "Old  fellow,  we'll  get 
'em  to-morrow;  yes,  to-morrow  morning!" 

"  I'll  go  with  you,  and  give  you  any  amount  of  advice, 
but —  Well,  the  fact  is,  Geoff,  I'm  not  going  to  invest 
myself." 

' '  Not — going — to — invest !     What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"What  I  said." 

' '  No,  you  don't  mean  you're  not  going  to  buy  a  bicycle !" 

"  Just  that." 

Geoffrey  sat  bolt-upright  and  stared  at  Thad.  "Well, 
Thaddeus  Prescott."  he  said  at  last,  "you  always  were  an 
odd  one.  What's  up  ?  Some  new  muscle  machine,  Gl- 
are you  going  to  turn  the  attic  into  a  gymnasium,  or 
what?" 


"  Good  idea  that  about  the  attic,  but  I  guess  it's  the 
'  what.'  Have  an  apple.  Geoff,  and  I'll  spin  you  a  little 
yarn.  'Twas  the  other  day — you  see  I'd  been  down  to 
the  bicycle  loft,  and  was  coming  home  across  the  Com- 
mon— 

"Whistling?" 

"Course  I  was.  Any  fellow 'd  whistle  like  a  mock- 
bird  after  choosing  such  a  bicycle's  I  had,"  and  Thad 
puckered  his  lips  to  a  high  operatic  trill,  which  the  bird 
in  the  window  took  up,  and  which  even  Geoff  could  not 
resist. 

"  Well,"  started  Thad  once  more,  "  as  I  get  along  by 
the  Frog  Pond  where  the  old  apple-woman  — 

"The  wrinkled  one?" 

"Yes,  the  hundred-year-older  that  always  sits  on  her 
heels  at  the  foot  of  the  big  elm.  Well,  as  I  got  along, 
there  I  stopped." 

"What  for  ?"  broke  in  Geoff. 

"To  buy  an  apple,  of  course,"  retorted  Thad.  "No; 
come  to  think,  I  didn't  quite  stop;  only  slowed  up,  for  I 
wanted  to  see  the  trade." 

"What  trade?" 

"Why,  there  was  a  little  chap  there — newsboy,  with 
papers  under  his  arm,  and  a  twiiikly  sort  of  face — smart, 
you  know.  'Bagged?'  Yes,  but  awful  clean ;  face  shone 
like  the  old  woman's  apples — 'pon  my  word  it  did.  And 
he  stood  there  with  a  penny  in  his  hand,  first  011  one  foot 
and  then  on  t'other,  and  looking  mighty  wishful.  Then 
he  reached  over  and  just  touched  an  apple — big  two-center 
— and  then  he  shook  his  head  and  stepped  back,  and  look- 
ed wishful  again.  And  the  wrinkled  old  woman  tried  to 
smile  a  teinptiii'  sort  o'  two-toothed  smile  and  look  plea- 
sant. After  a  jiffy  the  little  chap  reached  over  toward  the 
one-centers;  but  he  didn't  touch  'em.  He  shook  his  head 
and  jerked  back,  said  something  about  'ma' and  'money,' 
gave  his  papers  a  hitch,  and  started  on." 

'And  Thaddeus,  "broke  in  Geoff— "  Thaddeus  put  his 
last  quarter  into  two-centers,  and  skipped  after  the  little 
chap  and  filled  his  pockets  full — didn't  he  now?" 

"Maybe— ought  to,  "answered  Thad,  witha  reddertouch 
to  his  cheeks. 

' '  But  what's  all  this  to  do  with  a  bicycle  ?" 

"  I'm  a-telling  you ;  a  fellow  can't  spin  a  whole  yarn  in 
a  minute,  Geoff.  Well,  the  little  chap  came  down  tliis  way, 
and  I  along  behind,  and  a  minute  after  another  newsboy 
came  up  with  mine,  and  says  he,  in  a  shrill  voice: 

Hi,  Skimp,  Kismus  comiii',  d'ye  know  ?     Gwine  ter 
hang  up  ?' 

'  What  'd  a  chap  hang?' 
'  '  Stuckin's,'  says  t'other. 

'N't  got  'iiy,'  says  Skimp. 
'  '  Boots, '  says  t'other. 

'  'N't  got  'ny,'  says  Skimp. 
' '  An'thin',  then,'  says  t'other. 

"N't  got  'ny— never  had  'ny,' says  Skimp;    'an"  no- 
thin's  as  good,  anyway.' 

"  '  What  d'ye  mean,  old  chap  ?  don't  ye  b'lieve  ill  Santa 
Claus  ?' 

'  Never  did,'  says  Skimp.      '  'E  never  brought  any  of 
us  nuthin'.      'E's  old,  older'n  ma  can  'member— old  's  two 
o' Aunty  Appleseed.     'E  forgets  fearful— allus  forgets  me, 
V  all  us  forgot  ma  too.     No,  I'd  never  hang  up— no  use.' 
Then  they  turned  down  a  side  path,  and  I  came  home. " 
'  And  what  next,  Thad  ?     Spin  away." 

"Well,  do  you  know,  Geoff,  this  blessed  morning,  as  I 
looked  out  the  back  parlor,  there  in  the  yard  was  Skimp. 
He'd  a  big  basket,  a  clothes-basket— our  washing,  you 
know.  And  I  up  with  the  sash,  and  says  I,  '  Merrv  Christ- 
mas, Skimp,'  and  he  looks  up,  and  says  he,  'Merry  Christ- 
mas'; but  somehow  he  didn't  look  a  bit  merry.  So  1  ran 
down  and  took  his  basket,  and  asked  him  in,  and  gave 
him  a  big  orange,  and — " 

"  Of  course  you  did,  Thad;  just  like  you." 


FEBRUARY  13,  1883. 


II.UIPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•227 


"And,  oh  my!  how  his  eyes  did  shine.  And  I  asked 
him  lots  of  questions.  The  little  chap's  got  a  '  ma'— she 
does  the  washing— and  a  baby  brother,  and  no  'pa';  and 
they're  dreadfully  poor,  and  they  live  just  bark  here  in 
Arnrn  Si  reel.  And  he  wants  to  go  to  school,  and  eau't,  I 
'cause  it  takes  every  penny  he  earns  for  bread  and  butter — 
no,  I  don't  S'IIDSC  they  ever  have  butter — and  his  name's  not 
Skimp:  that's  a  nickname,  'cause  mire  tlir  newsboys  \vere 
all  a  ^oinir  to  l)uy  hot.  pea-nuts,  and  he  wouldn't  ;  and  one 
chap  was  mean  enough  to  call  out  'Skimpy!'  and  another, 
who  knc- wall  about  it,  told  'em  'twas  on  account  of  his  'ma'; 
anil  as  ihcv'd  all  had  'ma's.'  most,  of  t belli,  they  gave  three 
Hirers  and  filled  his  pockets  with  pea-nuts,  and  liked  him 
better1!)  ever.  But  always  after  that  they  called  him 
Skimp.  1  talked  with  the  chap  half  an  hour;  and  fact  is. 
(  ieoli',  he'.;  a  real  lilt  le  man." 

Thad  brought  down  his  sturdy  palm  on  the  kii' e  of  his 
friend  with  one  of  those  explosive  whacks  which  are  so 
Singularly  expressive  to  boys. 

"And  what   next?"  cried  Geoff ,  impatiently,  yel  no:  a 

little  moved  l,y  Thad's  earnestness.       "Spin  away." 

•'Spun  out."  said  Thad;  "leastwise  as  far  as  facts  go. 
Anythiii.ir  further  would  be  of  tin-  stull'  that  dreams  are 
made  of." 

"  Shakspeare,"  commented  (ieolV.  under  his  breath. 
"Well,  suppose  you  do  turn  prophet;  a  little  prophery 
ma\  be  a  help  to  both  of  us;  and  likely  as  not  1  can  help 
you  if  you  come  to  any  hitches  You  be^in  thusly:  And 

it  came  \«  l>a.ss  that  the  youlb  Thaddeiis,  his  great  heart 
touched  by  a  divine  pity,  \oued  to  sacrifice  his  treasures. 
and  devote  himself  to  the'  lifting  of  his  humlile  human 
brothers  to— to— \\  ell.  tin-  heights  of  I  lost  on  cull  lire!" 

<  ieoll'  la  i  lulled  as  he  folded  his  wings  over  this  Might  of 
fancy:  but  the  laugh  had  a  lone  in  it  uhirh  hinleu  thai 
perhaps  it  would  not  be  so  bad  a  thing  to  do  after  all. 

"  Nonsense."  said  Thad,  the  tinge' of  an  I •-!  blush  on 

li is  cheeks;  "  and  yet."  he  added,  with  a  quick  liii'ht  in  his 
eyes,  "  Thaddeiis  will  do  something  of  ihe  sort." 

"  And  Ihe  bicycle  check  ;" 

"Will  go  to  Skimp  in  some  shape." 

"And  next  you'll  call  'presto!'  and  the  gymnasium  at- 
tic will  r ha n '_vc  to  an  orphan  asylum,  with  blackboards  in- 
stead of  spring-boards,  and  books  instead  of  dumb-bells, 
OThad!" 

"And  thai  isn't  a  bad  idea,  either— the  two  together. 
Why.  (ieoii',  you're  going  to  be  an  immense  help  to  me; 
1  might  have  known  it." 

And  he  was.  As  Thad  took  him  into  ronlidenre.  and 
told  all  the  thoughts  and  plans  that  had  Hashed  through 
his  mind  since  the  occurrence  on  the  Common,  and  the 
chance  discovery  of  the  morning,  his  laughing  sallies  and 
playful  satires  were  full  of  sensible  suggestion. 

And  by-and-by.  as  the  handsome  fellow  balanced  him- 
self on  the  shining  bicycle  for  the  home  run,  Thad — his 
face  glowing  with  a  boy's  enthusiasm — ventured  the  pro- 
phecy that  another  Christmas  would  see  a  dozen  Beacon 
Street  boys  carrying  out  the  plans  they  had  planned  that 
day. 

Thad  believed  in  having  an  active  hand  in  the  fulfill- 
ment of  prophecy.  So  that  very  week  the  gymnasium 
went  into  the  attic,  and  with  it  went  blackboards,  desks, 
books,  globes,  charts,  and  all  sorts  of  tempting  appliances. 

The  next  week  a  keen  little  fellow,  known  in  front  of 
the  Herald  Office  as  Skimp,  sat  at  one  of  the  desks  every 
other  night.  The  next  week  two  more  desks  had  occu- 
pants; by  the  middle  of  February  the  number  was  six; 
and  Ihe  "asylum,"  as  Geoff  persisted  in  calling  it,  was 
decidedly  interesting  to  its  originators,  and  the  one  or  two 
friends  who  had  been  admitted  under  bond  of  profound 
secrecy. 

The  training  of  brain  and  muscle  was  happily  blended 
after  a  somewhat  original  theory  of  Thad's  own. 

As  St.  Valentine's  Day  drew  near,  an  air  of  mystery  set- 


tled over  Thad's  private  den;  and  once,  on  going  in  sud- 
denly, Thad's  young  brother  saw.  as  he  afterward  affirmed, 
a  cloaked  something  with  long  white  hair  and  beard, 
"like  Abraham  in  the  Bible,  or  Santa  Claus,"  whisk  into 
the  wardrobe. 

And  again,  on  St.  Valentine's  Eve,  the  same  mysterious 
stranger  whisked  by  him  in  the  upper  hall,  and  disappear- 
ed down  the  back  stairs. 

Whether  this  strange  visitant  really  was  St.  Valentine 
has  never  been  settled  entirely  to  his  satisfaction. 

But  Skimp,  in  his  humble  little  room  in  one  of  the  poor- 
est streets  of  lioston,  has  never  had  a  doubt  of  it. 

For  did  he  not.  ten  minutes  later,  sit  down  on  the  ed'jv 
of  his  meagre  bed  in  the  moonlight  to  pull  off  his  boots  for 
the  niuht  .'  and  did  not  just  then  a  shadow  fall  across  the 
floor  from  the  curlainless  window  '.  and  did  he  not  see  a 
dark  ligure  with  saintly  u  bite  hair  and  saintly  white  beard 
all  a  silvery  shimmer  in  the  moonlight;  and  did  he  not 
hear  a  grnll'  kindly  void-,  t  hat.  a  tier  all.  had  the  thrill  and 
freshness  of  youth  in  it.'  and  were  not  these  the  words. 
"  St.  Valentine's  love  and  remembrance  to  you  and  your 
folks,  my  hoy"  .'  and  as  his  eyes  grew  big  with  wonder,  did 
not  the  saint  vanish,  and  a  while  packet  Uy  through  the 
broken  pane  and  fall  at  his  feet.'  and  was  there  not  writ- 
ten on  it.  "St.  Valentine  remembers  what  St.  Nicholas  for- 
gets" ;  and  did  not  the  little  packet  bring  to  his  tired  hope- 
I  3S  mi  it  her  s  face  a  smile  that  never  faded  '.  and  from  that 
St.  Valentine's  Kve  was  not  his  face  hopefully  set  toward 
what  lie  had  never  dreamed  of  before.' 

The  weeks  Hew  by:  the  winter  melted  away;  the  ven- 
turesome snowdrops  and  gay  crocuses  came  bravely  out 
into  the  sun  along  I'.eaeon  Si  reel;  the  bicycle  season  was 
coming  on — still  Gcoll'  had  not  invested.  And  one  day, 
as  be  and  Thad  were  crossing  the  old  Common  by  that 
same  path  where  Thad  first  met  Skimp,  Geoff  told  him 
wh\  . 

"Fact  is.  old  fellow,  that  niuhl  I  played  St.  Valentine 
for  you.  my  check  went  into  the  packet  with  yours.  That 
was  why  I  held  back,  and  came  so  near  being  discovered 
b\  that  sharp  eyed  lit  I  le  brother  of  yours.  I  didn't  mean 
to  tell  \  on.  but  I  never  could  keep  a  secret." 

Thad  sei/.ed  his  hand  with  a  quick  linn  grip.  "Of 
course  you  couldn't,  (ieoll'— of  course  you  couldn't.  And 
why  should  you  from  me?"  And  then  a  swift  light  Hash- 
ed in  his  eyes  as  he  added,  with  a  glad  thrill  in  his  voice. 
"  Now  I  know,  GcolV,  that  my  'prophecy'  will  more  than 
come  true." 

A  WOLF'S  DISLIKE  FOR  MUSIC. 

IT  is  well  known  that  domestic  dogs  dislike  music,  but 
the  hatred  of  it  seems  to  be  much  stronger  in  a  wolf. 
Dogs  become  familiar  with  it,  and  have  learned  to  endure 
it  ;  but  to  the  wolf  it  is  intolerable.  It  would  be  well  for 
those  who  live  in  countries  infested  by  wolves  to  arm 
themselves  with  some  loud-sounding  musical  instrument, 
as  the  following  anecdote  would  suggest. 

A  Scotch  bagpiper  was  travelling  hi  Ireland,  when  he 
encountered  a  wolf,  which  seemed  to  be  very  ravenous. 
The  poor  man  could  think  of  no  other  way  to  save  his  life 
than  to  open  his  wallet  and  try  the  effect  of  hospitality. 
He  did  so,  and  the  savage  beast  swallowed  all  that  was 
thrown  to  him  with  such  voracity  that  it  seemed  as  if  his 
appetite  was  not  in  the  least  degree  satisfied. 

The  whole  stock  of  provision  was,  of  course,  soon  spent, 
and  now  the  man's  only  resource  was  in  the  virtues  of  his 
bagpipe.  This  the  monster  no  sooner  heard  than  he  took 
to  the  mountains  as  suddenly  as  he  had  left  them.  The 
poor  piper  did  not  wholly  enjoy  his  deliverance,  for,  look- 
ing sadly  at  his  empty  wallet,  he  shook  his  fist  at  the  de- 
parting animal,  saying:  "Ay!  a  re  these  your  tricks?  Had 
I  known  your  humor,  you  should  have  had  your  music 
before  your  supper." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  CARRIER-PIGEON. 

THE  valentine  that  thou  hast,  brought 
I  well  know  who  has  sent  it : 

And  every  word  he  says  therein 
I  know"  full  well  he  meant  it. 

Thou  lovely  messenger,  pray  wait 

The  while  I  am  inditing 
A  little  answer.     Thou  canst  stay: 

I  won't  be  long  iu  writing. 

"I'm  true  to  thee;  he  true  to  me" 

It  is  enough.     I'll  fold  it. 
Come,  birdie,  come;   the  silken  strinir 

About  thy  neck  will  hold  it. 


THE  DEFENSE  OF  ROCHELLE. 

HOW  THE  CITY  OF  REFUGE  FOUGHT  FOR  LIBERTY. 

BY  GEORGE  CAEY  EGGLESTON. 

IN  the  old  times,  when  people  were  in  the  habit  of  fight- 
ing each  other  about  their  religion,  the  little  French 
sea-port  Rochelle  was  called  "the  city  of  refuge."  The 
Huguenots,  or  French  Protestants,  held  the  'place,  and 
when  the  armies  of  the  French  King  tried  to  take  it.  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  they  were  beaten 
off  and  so  badly  used  in  the  fight  that  the  King  was  glad 
to  make  terms  with  the  towns-people. 

An  agreement  was  therefore  made  that  they  should  have 
their  own  religion,  and  manage  their  own  atl'airs;  and  to 
make  sure  of  this  the  King  gave  Rochelle  so  many  spe- 
cial rights  that  it  became  almost  a  free  city.  After  that, 
whenever  a  Protestant  in  any  part  of  France  found  that 
he  could  not  live  peaceably  in  his  own  home,  lie  went  to 
Rochelle,  and  that  is  the  way  the  place  came  to  be  called 
the  city  of  refuge. 

For  a  good  many  years  the  people  of  Rochelle  went  on 
living  quietlv.  They  had  a  fine  harbor  of  their  own, 
their  trade  was  good,  and  they  were  allowed  to  manage 


their  own  affairs.  At  last  the  new  King  of  France 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  not  have  two  religions 
in  his  country,  but  would  make  everybody  believe  as 
he  did.  This  troubled  the  people  of  Rochelle,  but  the 
King  sent  them  word  that  he  only  meant  to  make  them 
change  their  religion  by  showing  them  that  his  was 
better,  and  that  he  did  not  intend  to  trouble  them  in 
any  way. 

In  those  days  promises  of  that  kind  did  not  count 
for  much;  but  the  King's  Prime  Minister,  Cardinal 
Richelieu,  who  really  managed  everything,  knew  very- 
well  that  Rochelle  could  give  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if 
it  chose,  and  so  perhaps  he  really  would  have  let  the 
town  alone  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  meddling  of  the 
English  Prime  Minister  Buckingham. 

This  Buckingham,  with  an  English  fleet  and  army, 
sailed  into  the  harbor  of  Rochelle  in  the  middle  of  July, 
1627,  and  undertook  to  help  the  people  against  the 
French  King.  If  Buckingham  had  been  either  a  sol- 
dier or  a  sailor,  he  might  have  made  himself  master  of 
the  forts  near  Rochelle  at  once;  but  although  he  had 
command  of  a  fleet  and  an  army,  he  really  knew  no- 
thing about  the  business  of  a  commander,  and  he 
blundered  so  badly  that  the  generals  of  the  French 
King  got  fresh  troops  and  provisions  into  the  forts,  and 
were  able  to  hold  them  in  spite  of  all  that  the  English 
could  do. 

Seeing  how  matters  stood,  Richelieu  at  once  sent  an 

army  to  surround  Rochelle,  and  at  daylight  on  the  10th 

of  August  the  people  found  a  strong  force  in  front  of 

the  town.      Rochelle   had   not   made   up   its  mind   to 

join  the  English,  and  the  magistrates  sent  word  to  the 

French  general  that  they  wanted  peace.    They  said  they 

\\ere  loyal  to  the  French  King,  and  even  ottered  to  help 

drive  the  English  away,  if  their  King  would  promise 

not  to  break  the  treaty  that  had  been  made  with  Rochelle 

many  years  before. 

It  was  too  late  to  settle  the  matter  in  that  way,  however. 
The  French  general  meant  to  make  the  town  surrender, 
and  so,  while  the  English  were  fighting  to  get  control  of 
the  island  of  Rhe,  at  some  distance  from  the  town,  he  be- 
gan to  build  works  around  Rochelle.  His  plan  was  to 
shut  the  people  up  in  the  city  and  cut  off  their  supplies  of 
food;  and  when  the  Rochelle  folk  saw  what  he  was  doing 
they  opened  fire  on  his  men. 

The  war  was  now  begun,  and  the  Huguenots  made  terms 
with  Buckingham,  hoping,  with  his  help,  to  win  in  the 
struggle.  Buckingham  promised  to  help  them,  and  he  did 
try  to  do  so  in  his  blundering  way ;  but  he  did  them  more 
harm  than  good,  for  when  he  found  that  he  could  not  take 
the  forts,  he  sailed  away,  taking  with  him  three  hundred 
tons  of  grain,  which  he  ought  to  have  sent  into  the  town. 
It  was  November  when  the  English  left,  and  Rochelle 
was  in  a  very  bad  situation.  Richelieu  set  to  work  to 
shut  the  town  in  and  seal  it  up.  He  built  strong  works 
all  around  the  land  side,  and  then,  with  great  labor, 
brought  earth  and  stones  and  built  a  mole,  or  strip  of 
land,  nearly  all  the  way  across  the  mouth  of  the  harbor, 
so  that  no  boats  could  pass  in  or  out. 

The  situation  was  a  terrible  one,  but  the  people  of  Ro- 
chelle were  brave,  and  had  no  thought  of  flinching.  They 
chose  the  mayor,  Guiton,  for  their  commander,  and  when 
he  accepted  the  office  he  laid  his  dagger  on  the  table,  say- 
ing: "I  will  thrust  that  dagger  into  the  heart  of  the  first 
man  who  speaks  of  giving  up  the  town  !''  He  then  went 
to  work  to  defend  the  place.  He  strengthened  the  works, 
and  made  soldiers  of  all  the  men  in  the  city,  and  all  the 
boys,  too,  for  that  matter.  Everybody  who  could  pull  a 
trigger  had  to  take  his  place  in  the  ranks.  England  had 
promised  to  send  help,  and  the  only  question,  Guiton 
thought,  was  whether  or  not  he  could  hold  out  till  the 
help  should  come ;  so  he  laid  his  plans  to  resist  as  long  as 
possible. 


n-;iti;r.u;v  i:;,  isss. 


HARI'KITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


229 


The  French  in  great  numbers  stormed  the  defenses  time 
after  time,  Imt  the  brave  Roehellese  always  drove  tliem 
back  with  great  loss.  It  was  clear  from  the  first  that 
I  ;  niton  would  not  give  way,  and  that  no  column,  how- 
ever strong1,  could  force  the  city  gates.  But  there  wa-  an 
enemy  inside  the  town  which  was  harder  to  tight  than  the 
one  outside.  There  was  famine  in  Rochelle!  The  cattle 
were  eaten  up.  and  the  horses  went  next.  Then  every- 
thing that  could  be  turned  into  food  was  rap-fully  used 
and  made  to  go  as  far  as  it  would.  Gnilon  Mopped  e\-er\ 
kind  of  waste,  but  day  by  day  the  food  supply  grew  small- 
er, and  the  people  grew  weaker  from  hunger.  Starvation 
was  doing  its  work.  Every  day  the  list  of  deaths  grew 
longer,  and  when  people  met  in  the  streets  they  stared  at 
each  other  with  lean,  white,  hungry  faces,  wondering  who 
would  be  the  next  to  go. 

Si  ill  these  heroic  people  had  no  thought  of  giving  Up. 
They  were  Bghting  for  liberty,  and  the\  loved  that  more 
than  life.  The  French  were  daily  charging  their  works, 
but  could  noi  move  the  stubborn,  starving  lloehellese. 

The  winter  dragged  On  slowly.  Spring  came,  and  yet 
CLO  help  had  come  from  England.  In  March  the  l-'n-neh. 
thinking  that  the  people  mil-.!  be  v.orn  out.  hurled  their 
heaviest  columns  against  the  lines;  but  do  what  they 
would,  th  e\  could  not  break  through  a  n  v  w  here,  and  had 
to  go  buck  to  their  works,  and  wait  for  famine  to  cou.|iie.- 
a  people  who  could  not  he  conquered  by  arms. 

One  morning  in  May  an  English  licet  .was  seen  outside 
the  mole.  The  news  ran  through  ihe  tou  n  like  wild-lire. 
Help  \vas  at  hand,  and  the  poor  .starving  people  were  \\  ihl 

with  joy.  Men  ran  through  the  streets  shouting  and  sing- 
ing Songs  of  thanksgh  ing.  They  had  borne  terrible  suf- 
ferings, but  now  help  was  coining,  and  lhe\  \\ere  sure 
that,  their  heroic  endurance  would  not  be  thrown  away. 
Thousands  of  their  comrade-  bad  fallen  lighting,  and 
thousands  of  their  women  and  children  had  starved  lo 
death;  but  what  was  that  if,  after  all,  Kochelle  was  not 
lo  lose  her  liberties  '. 

Alas!  their  hope  was  a  vain  one.  and  their  joy  soon 
turned  to  sorrow.  The  English  fleet  did  nothing.  It 
hardly  tried  lo  do  anything,  but  after  lying  within  sight 


of  the  town  for  a  while,  it  sailed  away  again  and  left  Ro- 
chelle to  its  fate. 

Richelieu  was  sure  that  Guiton  would  surrender  now, 

and  so  he  sent  a  messenger  to  say  that  he  would  spare  the 

lives  of  all  the  people  if  the  town  were  given  up  within 

:  three  days.     But  the  gallant  Guiton  was  not  ready  even 

i  yet  to  give  up  the  struggle.      "Tell  Cardinal  Richelieu," 

he  said  to  the  messenger,  "that  we  are  his  very  obedient 

servants;"  and  that  was  all  the  answer  he  had  to  make. 

When  the  summer  came  some  food  was  grown  in  the 
city  gardens,  but  this  went  a  very  little  way  among  so 
many  people,  and  the  famine  had  now  grown  frightful. 
The  people  gathered  all  the  shelMish  they  could  rind  at 
low  tide.  They  ate  the  leaves  oft'  the  trees,  and  even  the 
grass  of  the  gardens  and  law  us  was  used  for  food.  Every - 
l  hing  t  hat  could  in  any  way  help  to  support  life  was  con- 
sumed; everything  thai  could  be  boiled  into  the  thinnest 
soup  was  turned  lo  account:  everything  that  could  be 
chewed  for  its  juice  was  used  lo  ipiiet  Hie  pains  of  fierce 
hunger:  but  all  was  not  enough.  Men.  women,  and 
children  died  by  thousands.  Kvery  morning  when  the 
iard  '..in  to  take  the  place  of  the  old  one,  many  of 
the  sentinels  were  found  dead  at  their  posts  with  starva- 
tion. 

Still  the  heroic  (iiiiton  kept  up  the  light,  and  nobodv 
dared  say  anything  to  him  about  giving  up.  He  Still 
hoped  for  help  from  England,  and  meant  to  hold  out  un- 
til il  should  come,  cost  what  il  mighl.  In  order  that  the 
soldiers  might  have  a  lilt  le  more  to  eat,  and  live  and  light 
a  little  longer,  he  Inrned  all  the  old  people  and  those  who 
',',  ere  too  weak  to  light  out  of  the  town.  The  French 
would  not  let  these  poor  wretches  pass  their  lines,  but 
made  an  attack  on  (hem.  and  drove  them  back  toward 
Koehelle.  But  (fuiton  would  not  open  the  city  gates  to 
them.  He  said  they  would  starve  lo  death  if  he  lei  them 
into  Rochelle.  and  they  might  as  well  die  outside  as  inside 
1  he  gales. 

At.  last  news  came  that  the  English  had  made  a  treaty 
with  the  French,  and  so  there  was  no  longer  any  hope  of 
help  for  Rochelle.  and  truly  the  place  could  hold  out  no 
longer.  The  famine  was  at  its  worst.  Out  of  about  thir- 


s 

'' 

! 


. 

•"      •' 


-  ^_      •/   .     •,  -        - 


' 


•  - 
-  -  • — -.=- 


RICHELIEU    SURVEYING   THE    WORKS    AT    ROCHELLE. 


230 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ty  thousand  people  only  five  thousand  were  left  alive,  and 
they  were  starving';  of  six  hundred  Englishmen  who  had 
staid  to  help  the  Rochellese  all  were  dead  but  sixty-two. 
Corpses  lay  thick  ill  the  streets,  for  the  people  were  too 
weak  from  fasting  even  to  bury  their  dead.  The  end  had 
come.  On  the  30th  of  October,  1628,  after  nearly  fifteen 
months  of  heroic  effort  and  frightful  suffering,  Rochelle 
surrendered. 

Richelieu  at  once  sent  food  into  the  town,  and  treated 
the  people  very  kindly,  but  lie  took  away  all  the  old  rights 
and  privileges  of  the  city.  He  pulled  down  all  the  earth- 
works used  by  the  defenders  of  the  place,  and  gave  orders 
that  nobody  should  build  even  a  garden  fence  anywhere 
near  the  town.  He  made  a  law  that  no  Protestant  who 
was  not  already  a  citizen  of  Rochelle  should  go  there  to 
live,  and  that  the  "city  of  refuge"  should  never  again  re- 
ceive any  stranger  without  a  permit  from  the  King. 


OUR  FIGHT  WITH  THE  SNAPPING-TURTLE. 

BY  ALLAN  FORMAN. 

IT  all  happened  one  day  last  summer.  We  started  from 
home  with  the  most  peaceable  intentions.  Nothing 
was  further  from  our  thoughts  than  a  fight,  and,  to  tell  the 
truth,  we  did  not  do  much  fighting.  As  my  cousin  Ben 
remarked,  after  the  affair  was  over,  ' '  The  turtle  could  fight 
enough  to  answer  for  the  whole  party."  But  that  was 
after  we  had  run  away,  and  the  wholesale  praise  tended 
to  lessen  the  humiliation  of  three  boys  who  had  been  rout- 
ed by  one  turtle.  But  I  am  commencing  at  the  wrong- 
end  of  my  story,  so  I  will  begin  at  the  beginning-,  and 
btart  over  again. 

There  were  three  of  us — my  cousins  Ben  and  Charlie 
and  myself.  We  had  started  for  a  swim  in  a  small  lake 
not  far  from  our  house,  and  after  rowing  across  to  a  little 
bend  where  we  could  be  free  from  observation,  we  undress- 
ed, and  jumping  into  the  boat  again  started  to  push  out 
into  deep  water,  so  that  we  could  "dive  off."  Just  as  we 
had  got  fairly  under  headway,  the  oar  which  Ben  was 
using  to  push  with  stuck  in  the  mud,  and  was  wrenched 
from  his  grasp. 

"There  goes  the  oar,"  he  said,  ruefully,  as  the  boat  shot 
ahead. 

"Here  we  go,  you'd  better  say,"  commented  Charlie. 
"  The  oar  is  perfectly  still." 

"Well,  give  me  a  stick  or  a  bailer,  or  something  to 
paddle  with,"  replied  Ben.  There  was  nothing1  of  the 
kind  in  the  boat;  we  had  taken  out  all  the  movable  ar- 
ticles, intending  to  turn  her  over,  and  give  her  a  good 
washing.  "See  if  there  isn't  an  old  tin  pan  under  the 
forward  seat,"  said  Ben;  "Uncle  John  generally  keeps 
one  there." 

Charlie  thrust  his  hand  under  the  seat  in  the  bow,  and 
poked  around  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  there  is —  Interrupting  himself  with  a  shriek, 
he  exclaimed,  "Here's  a,  snapping-turtle, " and  jumped  on 
the  seat  with  the  agility  of  a  monkey. 

The  turtle  crawled  out  from  his  place  of  concealment 
in  no  very  good  humor.  His  little  red  eyes  glared  and 
his  jaws  snapped  like  a  strong  steel-trap.  Something  evi- 
dently disturbed  him.  Perhaps  he  was  offended  at  hav- 
ing been  mistaken  for  a  tin  pan.  At  all  events,  he  made 
excellent  time  toward  my  bare  feet,  which  I  promptly  re- 
moved to  a  place  of  safety  on  the  thwart.  He  then  wad- 
dled over  toward  Ben,  who  lost  no  time  in  securing  an  ele- 
vated position  on  the  stern  seat. 

There  we  sat,  Charlie  in  the  bow,  I  in  the  middle,  and 
Ben  in  the  stern,  perched  on  the  seats,  while  a  miserable 
little  snapping-turtle  practically  had  possession  of  the 
boat.  To  be  sure,  he  couldn't  make  the  boat  go  where 
he  wanted  it  to,  but  he  could  keep  us  from  doing  so.  We 
dared  not  jump  overboard,  for  it  was  too  far  to  swim 


ashore,  and,  moreover,  we  were  afraid  that  the  turtle 
would  get  at  us  when  we  clambered  in. 

We  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  and  the  turtle  seemed 
to  be  thinking  also,  but  it  was  not  for  long.  He  had 
evidently  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what  course  to  pursue, 
and  he  started  for  me  again.  This  time  he  jumped  and 
missed  me  but  by  a  few  inches.  Then,  as  if  to  show  no 
partiality,  he  jumped  at  Charlie.  It  was  surprising  how 
rapidly  that  turtle  could  get  about.  He  rushed  up  and 
down  the  boat,  snapping  his  jaws  and  jumping  at  us. 

Finally  Ben  spoke,  calmly  but  seriously.  He  said: 
"Boys,  I  suppose  that  you  are  so  busy  thinking  about 
that  turtle  that  you  haven't  noticed  that  we  are  floating 
toward  the  hotel,  and  will  be  in  front  of  it  in  about  five 
minutes." 

Horrors!  To  think  of  making  such  a  ridiculous  figure 
to  our  friends  at  the  hotel !  What  could  be  done  ? 

"Let's  jump  out  and  push  the  boat  ashore,"  I  sug- 
gested. 

"  We'd  be  tired  before  we  got  half- way,  and  we  couldn't 
get  in  again,"  objected  Charlie. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Ben,  a  sudden  thought  flashing 
over  him.  "I'll  jump  into  the  water  and  take  off  my 
trunks,  then  let  him  bite  'em  and  drop  him  overboard." 

This  seemed  the  only  practicable  plan,  and  it  was  adopt- 
ed. Charlie  took  the  trunks  and  held  them  in  front  of  the 
turtle.  He  closed  his  jaws  on  them  with  a  snap  like  a 
spring  lock.  Then  Charlie  lifted  him  carefully  over  the 
side  of  the  boat  and  dropped  him  into  the  water.  But 
here  was  another  difficulty.  The  turtle  refused  to  let  go. 
Charlie  bobbed  the  trunks  up  and  down  and  shook  them, 
but  without  success.  Finally,  becoming  disgusted,  he 
grasped  the  trunks  firmly,  and  whirling  them  around  his 
head  half  a  dozen  times,  suddenly  let  go.  A  party  of 
summer  boarders  from  the  hotel,  who  just  came  round 
the  bend,  were  astonished  by  the  sight  of  a  turtle  flying 
through  the  air  with  a  pair  of  striped  bathing  trunks  in 
his  mouth.  The  turtle  dropped  into  the  water  about  forty 
feet  from  us,  and  by  dint  of  pushing  and  resting  by  turns 
we  managed  to  get  back  to  our  clothes. 

We  found  out  afterward  that  Uncle  John  had  caught  the 
turtle  and  had  forgotten  to  throw  it  overboard.  WTe  did 
not  refer  to  the  matter  at  home,  for  though  it  was  no  joke 
to  us  at  the  time,  it  seemed  very  ridiculous  to  admit  that  one 
small  turtle  could  put  us  to  so  much  trouble.  Ben  con- 
tented himself  with  arousing  the  curiosity  of  the  family 
and  making  us  feel  uncomfortable  at  the  supper  table  by 
inquiring  solemnly, 

"I  wonder  what  that  fellow  is  doing  with  my  bathing 
trunks  ?" 

And  judging  from  the  grip  with  which  he  held  on  to 
them,  I  should  imagine  he  had  them  vet. 


ST.  VALENTINE  AND  HIS  DAY. 

BY  A.  E.  B. 

WE  are  bound  to  confess  that  when  the  month  of  Feb- 
ruary arrives  St.  Valentine  becomes  a  very  impor- 
tant person  to  our  young  folk.  For  a  month  or  more  his 
power  seems  supreme;  and  we  also  know  that  all  the  year 
round  deft  fingers  are  busy  upon  the  offerings  suitable  to 
his  day. 

Who  was  St.  Valentine,  and  what  has  he  to  do  with  this 
strange  custom  ? 

It  is  more  easy  to  answer  the  first  question  than  the 
second. 

All  that  is  known  of  the  saint  is  soon  told.  The  origin 
of  our  present  custom  is  not  so  certain.  More  I  linn  one 
explanation  has  been  given,  and  the  following  has  much 
in  its  favor. 

Isaac  Disraeli  has  pointed  out  that  many  of  our  chil- 
dren's games,  the  tumblers  and  street  acrobats,  the  carui- 


FEBRUARY   IS,  1883. 


IIAIIPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


231 


vals  and  speaking  pantomimes  of  Italy,  were  all  once  com- 
mon in  ancient  Rome.  And  so  the  custom  connected 
with  St.  Valentine's  name  may  also  be  traced  to  a  rite  that 
was  practic-  -d  in  the  same  city. 

In  the  month  of  February  a  feast  called  Litpercttlia 
was  held  in  honor  of  the  rustic  god  Pan.  Then  took  place 
&  ceremony  no  doubt  much  in  favor  with  the  young  peo- 
ple at  Rome.  The  names  of  young  girls  were  placed  with 
proper  solemnity  in  a  box  and  shaken  up.  The  young 
men  then  drew  these  names,  and  thus  each  obtained  what, 
we  should  call  a  Valentine. 

But  the  leaders  of  the  early  ( 'hristiaii  Church,  wishing 
to  do  away  with  heathen  rites  and  superstitions,  made  a 
change  in  this.  The  young  men.  instead  of  drawing  the 
names  of  young  girls,  drew  those  of  early  saints,  and  each 
was  supposed  to  imitate  the  example  of  the  saint  whose 
name  he  drew. 

As  the  heathen  rite  took  place  about  the  14th  of  Febru- 
ary, that,  day  was  lixed  on  for  the  new  ceremony.  Then, 
that  being  St.  Valentine's  May,  his  name  lias  come  down 
to  us  linked  with  the  custom. 

So  we  can  fully  acquit  St.  Valentine  of  having  aught  to 
do  with  our  present  style  of  celebrating  his  day.  He  was 
a  (  'hristiaii  mart  \  r  \\  ho  sull'ercd  death  at  Koine  under  the 
Kmperor  (  'laiidius. 

The  extraordinary  number  of  letters  now  posted  on  the 
Illtli  and  Illli  of  February  is  scarcely  credible;  but  with- 
out the1  aid  of  figures  u  e  can  obtain  some  idea  from  the 
lateness  of  the  postman's  call  and  the  strange  tigure  \\  Inch 
he  generally  presents  on  those  days. 

Poor  man,  lie  has  something  for  nearly  every  house  on 
that  morning,  and  has  to  make  his  round  huni;-  about  with 
bags  and  bundles  like  a  beast  of  burden.  And  yet  Ill- 
makes  the  best  of  it,  and  has  a  kind  word  for  the  young- 
sters who  hurry  to  the  door  to  meet  him. 


NAN  .* 

BY    MRS.  I. IVY  C.  I.ILI.IK, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  MILDRED'S  DAIK.AI.N,"  "  AI-XT  Ki  TH'S  TKMPTATIOX,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  T\OES  it  rain  here  often  in  the  autumn  f 

_L/  It  was  Nail  who  asked  the  question  as  she  sat 
perched  in  the  window  of  Mrs  llenol's  store  room,  while 
that  good  woman  was  lni-\  bottling  the  last  of  her  pre- 
serves. The  store  room  was  hardly  on  a  lower  lloor  than 
the  dining-room  and  black  walnut  parlor;  that  is  to  say,  it 
opened  oil'  a  little  corridor  reached  by  a  descent  of  only 
three  steps,  and  Nan  was  always  ready  to  spend  an  hour 
there  with  Mrs.  Heriot  or  Susan,  for  there  was  a  peculiar 
fascination  about  the  shelves,  and  the  big,  deep  window 
with  its  little  Hap  of  curtain,  and  the  space  between  the 
cupboards,  where  were  a  large,  low  table  and  two  big,  old- 
fashioned  chairs.  Sometimes  Nan  had  helped  Mrs.  Heriot 
pare  apples  or  peaches  there,  and  one  delightful  day  she 
and  Joan  had  helped  label  preserve  jars  and  stick  cloves 
into  the  pickled  pears.  In  these  last  they  had  made  va- 
rious initials  with  the  cloves,  intending  to  keep  a  keen 
eye  open  all  winter  for  their  re-appearance. 

"Does  it  rain  often?''  rejoined  Mrs.  Heriot,  looking 
up  absent-mindedly  from  her  work.  "Well,  I  don't 
know  what  you'd  call  often.  Where  I  came  from  in 
England  we  thought  nothing  of  ten  days'  rain  together; 
but  then  don't  bother,  child! — Christmas  will  bring  you 
a  good  frost  and  maybe  some  skating." 

"Oh,  Christmas!"  exclaimed  Nan.  She  rubbed  a  clear 
place  on  the  window-pane  and  looked  out.  Everywhere 
the  lawns  and  garden  beds  were  drenched,  and  there  was 
a  melancholy  sound  in  the  half-leafless  trees.  Yet  Nan 

*  Begun  in  Xo.  l."7,  IlAr.i-Er.'s  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


felt  very  happy.  She  had  so  much  to  fill  her  life  nowa- 
days that  even  rainy  days  were  pleasant.  It  was  assured- 
ly a  cause  of  regret  that  Lauce  had  been  sent  to  school  in 
Paris,  and  Nan  had  to  feel  sorry  that  Laura  was  not  well; 
but  Laura  had  never  been  her  playfellow,  and.  besides,  of 
late  she  had  been  more  than  ever  distant  :  .loan  remained 
the  happy,  brisk,  loving  Joan  of  the  spring  and  summer 
time;  and.  best  of  all,  she  had  succeeded  admirably  with 
her  charges.  Mrs.  Travers  and  little  David. 

Every  week  the  accounts  were  satisfactory.  Even  Miss 
Prior  was  beginning  to  look  kindly  upon  the  arrange- 
ment, and  so  pleased  was  Aunt  Letty  that  there  was  talk 
of  Nan's  doing  something  more  extensive  next  year. 
Phyllis  was  no  longer  doubtful  about  it,  or,  at  least,  she 
only  smiled  in  her  peculiar  way  once  in  a  while;  and  Nan 
had  grown  to  be  really  good  friends  with  Love  Blake. 
Love  had  given  her  the  soundest  kind  of  counsel,  encour- 
aged her  \\  ben  she  felt  sad,  and  even  helped  her  in  pur- 
chases. 

Now  Nan  knew  that  to  her  cousin  Phyllis  Rolf  the  boat- 
man's daughter  seemed  a  very  ordinary  person,  yet  Nan 
loved  her.  and  Miss  Rolf  had  never  interfered.  She  had 
never  murmured,  like  Phyllis,  that  it  \\  as  a  cinirmon  taste; 
and  Xan  felt  that  little  Love,  with  her  quiet,  peaceful 
eves,  ami  her  ready,  unselfish  heart,  could  teach  her  many 
\  '  r\  noble  lessons. 

"There  is  Susan  calling,"  said  Nan,  suddenly.  Mrs. 
ib  lint  put  her  pickle  jar  down  and  listened,  and  at  that 
moment  Susan  appeared,  quite  breathless,  in  the  doorway. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Annice !"  she  said,  "it's  your  aunt's  carriage 
come  for  yon.  She's  in  College  Street,  and  you  are  to  go 
at  once,  if  you  please,  miss." 

Nan  sprang  down  from  her  perch.  She  could  not  have 
said  why,  yet  an  undefined  dread  took  possession  of  her. 
What  did  it  mean  ?  She  knew  Miss  Rolf  had  gone  out 
shopping;  but  why  should  she  have  sent  for  her  to  come 
to  College  Street  : 

"  Is  Laura  ill  '."  asked  Nan,  trembling,  as  she  hurried 
upstairs  to  put  on  her  things.  But  no  one  seemed  able 
to  answer.  It  was  the  only  thing  she  could  think  of ;  for 
of  all  the  College  Street  cousins  Laura  was  the  only  sick- 
ly one. 

Nan  hardly  knew — long  afterward  it  was  difficult  to  re- 
member—just  how  she  got  into  the  carriage,  and,  with 
that  nameless  dread  upon  her,  was  driven  down  the  fa- 
miliar streets.  It  was  fast  growing  dark,  and  the  wet 
pavements  shone  under  the  street  lamps.  The  little  girl 
in  the  carriage  strained  her  gaze  against  the  window- 
pane,  looking  out  eagerly  for  the  iron  gateway  and  the 
galleried  wing  of  the  pleasant  house.  But  everything 
was  curiously  quiet  as  she  went  in,  and,  according-  to  cus- 
tom, she  ran  upstairs  to  lay  off  her  things  in  Joan's 
room.  After  all,  there  was  nothing  so  remarkable  in  be- 
ing sent  for  to  a  house  which  she  was  in  and  out  of  every 
other  day.  Nan  smiled  at  her  own  fears  as  she  pushed 
open  the  door  of  the  girls'  room. 

The  darkness  was  not  absolute  here.  Nan  could  see  a 
figure  on  the  bed;  and  Laura's  face,  white  and  haggard, 
started  up  from  the  pillows.  On  seeing  Nan  she  gave  a 
little  shudder,  buried  her  face  again,  and  then  looked  up 
with  a  strained,  feverish  gaze. 

All  Nan's  tender  heart  was  filled  with  pity.  "Oh, 
Laura  darling,''  she  said,  kneeling  down  by  the  side  of  the 
little  bed,  "  what  is  it '! — are  you  worse  ?" 

But  Laura  shrank  back  a  moment,  and  then  said,  in  a 
hoarse  voice,  entirely  unlike  her  own,  "Nan !  Nan  !  listen 
to  me:  if  you  tell  of  me  you  will  kill  me!" 

"  What,  J  tell  of  you  |"  exclaimed  Nan.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"Oh!  oh!"  moaned  Laura,  moving  restlessly  about  in 
the  bed.  "  I  am  so  ill!  what  can  I  do  ?  Go  down-stairs, 
Nan — you  will  hear — go  down." 

Woiideriugly  Nan  laid  aside  her  hat  and  jacket,  and 


232 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•IP    YOi:    TELL    OF    ME    YOC    WILL    KILL    ME." 


went  down  the  stairs.  Midway  she  met  Phyllis,  who 
stopped  and  looked  at  her  very  strangely.  There  was  only 
the  light  of  the  hall  lamp  on  the  faces  of  the  two.  cousins, 
hut  it  showed  Phyllis's  full  of  pain  and  anxiety,  and  Nan's 
fearless,  sweet  glance  raised  to  hers,  now  only  touched  by 
something-  wondering  and  perplexed. 

Phyllis  gazed  earnestly  a  moment,  and  then  said,  "Go 
to  Aunt  Letty  in  the  study,  Nan.''  She  added,  in  an  in- 
stant, "  I  know  you  will  make  it  all  right.'' 

•'What1}"  asked  bewildered  little  Nan;  hut  Phyllis 
passed  swiftly  on,  and  Nan  had  nothing  to  do  hut  to  seek 
Aunt  Letty  in  the  small  library,  known  as  the  study. 
When  she  opened  the  door  of  that  room  it  was  a  relief  to 
find  Miss  Eolf  seated  in  the  window,  alone. 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Miss  ROLF  made  a  quick  movement  as  Nan  shut  the 
door  quietly  after  her;  and  as  the  little  girl  stood  still, 
hesitatingly,  in  the  twilight,  she  exclaimed, 


"Come  here,  Annice,  there  is  something  I  want  you  to 
explain  at  once;  come,  come." 

Miss  Rolf  seemed  feverishly  impatient  and  unlike  her- 
self. Nan  saw  in  her  hands  a  long  bill  headed  by  Ames's 
mark  and  address. 

"I  have  got  in  the  account,"  Miss  Rolf  continued. 
"  There  are  things  here —  Oh,  Annice !"  the  old  lady  ex- 
claimed, piteously,  "  if  you  wanted  anything — a  new  sash, 
or  even  those  tinsel  things,  or  lace  collarettes — why  didn't 
you  tell  me  ?  It  would  have  been  so  much  better  than  to 
buy  them  in  secret." 

"/.'"  Nan  gasped  out  the  word.  She  was  more  be- 
wildered than  ever. 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Miss  Rolf  again,  sternly.  "Read 
this."  And  she  pushed  the  long  bill  toward  the  child. 

Nan  mechanically  took  it  in  her  hands  and  began  read- 
ing as  well  as  she  could.  Scattered  among  the  articles  she. 
had  purchased  for  the  Traverses  were  various  others,  un- 
known to  her — pink  sash  ribbon,  lace  collarettes,  collars. 


FEBRUARY  13,  1883. 


HAKPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


233 


culV>.  tinsel  ornaments,  beads.  The  number  and  the 
strangeness  of  it  bewildered  poor  Nan.  while  her  aunt 
threateningly  stood  over  her.  Suddenly,  like  an  awful 
shock,  as  it  were  from  the  very  heavens,  it  Hashed  over 
her.  Sin-  Innl  seen  these  very  tinny*  in  Laura's  posses- 
sion .' 

What  it  all  meant  Nail  could  not  even  then  tell,  but,  cou- 
pled with  Laura's  wild  supplications  "  not  to  tell  of  her," 
she  felt  there  was  guilt  somewhere,  and  that  not  her  own. 
Naii  was  too  young  to  be  entirely  self-possessed  or  equal 
to  knowing  what  to  do.  The  paper  shook  in  her  hands. 
What  could  she  do  or  say?  Little  by  little  occasions 
came  back  to  her  mind  \vlien  she  had  seen  Laura  quickly 
hiding  these  things.  And  the  tinsel  ornaments!  How 
clearly  Nan  now  understood  what  Laura's  anxiety  to  hide 
them  after  the  play  had  meant  ! 

For  Nan  those  moments  were  horrible.  What  could 
she  do  ;  It  was  not  in  her  heart  or  nature  suddenly  to 
speak  ami  condemn  her  cousin.  Hut  there  was  Aunt  Let - 
ty  wailing,  with  her  features  all  drau  n  and  hagirard.  all 
loo  anxious  to  restore  Nan  to  favor,  vet  evidently  think- 
ing the  worst. 

'•  Oh  !"  cried  Nan.  suddenly,  looking  up  wildly  at  her 
aunt,  "  please  let  me  wait  a  moment  ;  give  me  a  few  mo- 
ments and  1  can  tell  you." 

She  thing  down  the  paper,  and  started  up  the  stairs  to 
Laura's  room.  As  she  entered  she  saw  the  white  face  on 
the  pillow,  and  heard  the  sick  girl  moan.  She  tiling  her 
self  down  beside  the  bed,  whispering,  "Oh.  Laura.  I  musl 
tell,  you  know — you  know!  Oh.  let  me  lell  them!"  Her 
voice  broke  down  in  sobs. 

"You  shall  not!"  whispered  Laura  hack.  "You  will 
kill  me  if  you  do.  Wait  a  little  while.  You  in  nut  nol  !" 

Laura,  really  grew  faint,  and  Nan  looked  at  her  half  in 
pity,  half  in  contempt. 

•'And  you  will  not  own  to  it  ?"   Nan  asked,  slowly. 

But  Laura  only  buried  her  face  and  sobbed  convulsive- 
ly. Had  not  Phyllis  appeared.  Nan  would  have  said  more ; 
but  on  seeing  her  elder  cousin  the  little  girl  turned  and 
left  the  room,  returning  to  the  study.  What  was  there 
for  her  to  do  or  to  say  '!  She  could  not  tell.  How  could 
she  blame  Laura  '!  how  stand  up  and  disgrace  her  cousin 

Phyllis's  siller?  And  even  were  she  to  do  so,  would 
she  be  believed?  And  Laura  was  really  ill,  worn  out, 
Nan  did  not  now  doubt,  by  her  wretched  secret. 

Everything  seemed  to  be  in  a  whirl  about  her  as  she  re- 
entered  the  study,  where  Miss  Rolf  still  stood  as  she  had 
left  her. 

"Well  ?"     The  old  lady  spoke  sharply. 

But  Nan,  for  the  first  time,  only  hung  her  head. 

"Explain  this,  Annice,"  her  aunt  said,  coldly. 

Nan  tried  to  find  her  voice,  and  failed.  Then  she  said, 
slowly,  "  I  can.  not." 

"  Is  it  that  you  icill  not  ?"  demanded  her  aunt. 

No  answer. 

"  Annice,  did  you  hear  me  ?" 

"Yes,  Aunt  Letty." 

"  And  can  you  not  answer  ;" 

"No." 

Nan's  voice  sounded  even  to  herself  a  far-away  whisper. 
There  was  silence  for  a  moment — silence,  at  least,  in  the 
little  room.  Outside,  the  rain  beat  furiously,  and  for 
a  long  time  Annice  Rolf  never  heard  the  same  sound 
without  a  recollection  of  the  faint,  sick  feeling  that  pos- 
sessed her  as.she  stood  with  bowed  head  before  her  aunt. 

"  You  may  go,"  said  Miss  Rolf,  presently.  "Go  borne 
at  once  in  the  carriage,  and  send  it  back  for  me.  And 
go  at  once  to  your  room.  Do  you  hear,  Annice  ?  Go  at 
once. " 

It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  Nan — her  going  up  the  stairs, 
knocking  at  Laura's  door,  and  mechanically  asking  Phyl- 
lis for  her  things.  How  she  put  them  on;  how  she  got 
into  the  carriage  and  gave  her  aunt's  orders;  how  she 


drove  home  through  the  dark,  wet  streets,  and  reached  the 
house  and  her  own  little  room — seemed  afterward  all  re- 
collections in  the  mists  of  a  nightmare.  But  there  she 
was  at  last,  in  the  window  of  her  room,  and  crying  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  Oh,  for  one  word  with  Lance,  or 
Love  Blake!  And  if  Laura  should  never  tell!  And  in 
the  midst  of  all,  and,  I  rejoice  to  say,  the  very  worst  of 
all,  seemed  to  Nan  to  lie  in  the  fact  of  Laura's  double 
deceit.  What  could  have  induced  her  to  it  ?  Wayward, 
thoughtless,  forgetful  as  was  Nan,  her  conscience  was  un- 
stained  by  any  actual  sin,  and  not  for  worlds  could  she 
have  been  tempted  to  a  lie. 

[TO    HE    CONTINUED.] 


CUPID    ON    SNOW-SHOES. -BY  A.  DAGGY. 


234 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


IN  THE  WESTERN  OCEAN. 

BY  RICHAKI)  HOWLING. 

"IT  is  many  a  good  long  year  ago  since  what  I'm  going 
1  to  tell  you  about  happened,"  said  Captain  William 
Grant,  of  the  brig  Dolphin,  as  he  crossed  his  legs,  shook 
the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and  settled  himself  comfortably 
for  telling  a  yarn.  "It  is  many  a  good  long  year  ago, 
my  lads.  I  was  then  a  boy  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  of 
age,  aud  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you  happened  aboard  this 
very  brig  Dolphin. 

'•She  was  then  not  more  than  four  years  old,  and  not 
one  of  the  liners  could  touch  her  running  free.  We  load- 
ed oats  in  Limerick  for  London,  and  put  to  sea  on  a  heavy 
February  ilav.  We  were  hardly  clear  of  the  land  when 
the  glass  began  to  fall,  and  all  the  heavens  thickened  up 
with  the  clouds  like  dirt.  I  heard  the  captain  saying  to 
the  mate,  as  they  stood  at  the  skylight— this  very  skylight 
over  our  head  iio\v.  boys — that  he  didn't  like  the  look  of  it 
at  all.  Then  he  looked  aloft  and  into  the  wind,  which 
was  nearly  due  east,  then  walked  aft.  As  he  came  back 
he  said,  'There  aren't  three  hours  between  us  and  ban- 
poles.' 

"  'I  agree  with  you,'  said  the  mate;  'and  we're  too  far 
off  to  beat  back.' 

"In  less  than  an  hour  we  were  close  reefed.  In  less 
than  two  the  storm  was  upon  us.  The  wind  was  some- 
thing terrible,  lads.  Before  it  struck  us  with  its  full  force 
we  had  taken  everything  off  her  except  the  fore  double- 
reefed  topsail;  and  when  the  gale  struck  her  it  took  that 
topsail  out  of  the  bolt-ropes  as  easily  as  I  chuck  that  to- 
bacco-pouch across  the  table. 

"What  went  after  the  topsail  I  can't  tell.  There  was 
a  terrible  crash,  and  —  remember,  lads,  I  was  a  younker 
then — in  a  few  minutes  it  seemed  as  if  everything  aloft 
had  come  down  by  the  run.  Some  rope  or  spar,  I  don't 
know  what,  knocked  me  over,  and  all  the  men  were  busy 
with  their  knives  cutting  away  the  wreck  before  I  came  to. 
By  that  time  both  topmasts  were  gone,  short  of  the  trucks, 
and  the  great  danger  was  that  the  wreck,  which  we  were 
towing  upon  our  port  side,  would  stave  in  the  planks  of 
the  hull.  Some  of  the  stanchions  and  bulwarks  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  wreck,  and  although  we  had  a  dry 
deck — not  a  bucket  of  water  had  come  aboard  yet  —  the 
iJnljihin  looked  as  though  she  had  been  hammer  and 
tongs  at  it  for  a  fortnight. 

"For  six-aiid-thirty  hours  that  gale  blew.  Then  the 
wind  died  away,  and  it  fell  a  dead  calm.  This  was  even 
worse  than  the  gale.  Every  minute  I  expected  the  brig 
would  founder.  Now  she  was  in  the  trough  of  the  sea, 
broadside,  now  stern  foremost,  now  bow  foremost,  now 
with  lu-r  quarter  to  the  sea.  She  was  utterly  helpless, 
and  during  the  gale  we  had  lost  two  men  overboard. 

"All  this  time  we  had  110  exact  notion  of  where  we 
were.  The  captain  had  no  knowledge  of  navigation,  and 
no  man  aboard  was  a  bit  better  off  in  this  way.  But  even 
if  the  captain  had  had  all  the  science  in  the  world,  we  had 
no  chance  of  taking  the  sun,  no  chronometer  aboard,  and, 
to  the  horror  of  all,  it  was  found  out  that,  in  the  excitement 
and  the  danger,  no  one  had  thought  of  winding  watch  or 
clock,  and  we  were  without  the  time.  You  can  see,  my 
];;<ls.  we  were  in  a  nice  fix.  We  were  hundreds  of  miles 
out  in  the  Western  Ocean;  the  boat  and  the  galley  had 
been  swept  away;  we  could  hardly  show  a  rag  of  canvas 
even  if  a  breeze  sprang  up;  we  were  dismantled;  we  had 
no  man  aboard  who  knew  anything  of  navigation  ;  we 
hadn't  the  time,  and  we  had  provisions  for  but  one  month. 
"Days  and  weeks  went  by,  and  still  we  saw  no  sail. 
For  the  first  fortnight  we  were  allowed  the  same  grub  as 
usual;  but  then  we  were  put  on  half -allowance.  We 
had,  by  some  fortunate  good  chance,  an  extra  barrel  of 
water  aboard;  and  whether  it  was  owing  to  the  weight  of 
the  barrels,  or  the  secure  way  in  which  they  were  lashed 


down,  they  had  not  been  washed  away.  If  they  had,  we 
should,  of 'course,  have  died.  The  grub  was  safe  enough 
in  the  harness-casks  at  the  foot  of  the  companion  and  in 
the  lockers. 

"At  the  end  of  six  weeks  we  had  one  barrel  of  water, 
and  two  days'  half-allowance  of  grub.  Still  we  saw  no 
sail.  We  gave  ourselves  up  for  lost.  In  six  weeks  and 
two  days  the  last  biscuit  was  gone,  the  last  pound  of  beef 
eaten.  WTe  still  had  a  cask  of  water  untouched,  and  with 
that  we  could  manage  to  live  for  a  few  days  longer;  but  I 
think  by  this  time  we  gave  ourselves  up.  Still  the  sea 
was  rolling  and  tumbling  around  us,  every  now  and  then 
sweeping  the  decks.  We  were  all  as  weak  as  children  by 
this  time,  and  if  the  pumps  had  wanted  tending  for  more 
than  fifteen  minutes  out  of  the  two  hours,  we  could  not 
have  manned  them  regularly.  What  made  matters  worse 
was  that,  beyond  tending  the  pumps,  we  had  nothing  to  do. 
We  had  plenty  of  coals  yet,  but  we  had  nothing  to  cook. 

"  I  have  been  often  out  in  a  bad  gale  since,  but  I'd  rath- 
er ride  out  the  biggest  storm  of  wind  that  ever  came  out 
of  the  heavens,  than  lie  another  six  weeks  helpless  like 
that  in  the  Western  Ocean,  with  the  waves  running 
mountains  high. 

"  There  was  one  man  among  the  crew,  Jim  Clarke  by 
name,  I  never  liked.  He  was  a  tall,  thin,  dark-bearded 
sea-lawyer,  with  a  list  to  starboard.  I  will  say  he  was  a 
thorough  sailor,  and  knew  his  business  as  \\cll  as  any  man 
in  the  brig.  But  he  was  always  grumbling  and  growling, 
and  ever  since  we  came  to  be  put  on  short  allowance  his 
grumbling  and  growling  grew  worse  and  worse. 

"None  of  the  men  liked  Clarke.  He  was  always  trying 
to  stir  up  a  mutiny  about  something  or  other,  and  the  first 
day  we  were  put  on  short  allowance,  when  it  was  his 
watch  below,  I  heard  him  say: 

"'What  I  want  to  know,  men,  is  this:  Here  we  are, 
sticking  by  this  brig  out  in  the  Western  Ocean,  and  now 
we're  cut  down  to  half-victuals.  Are  the  owners  going 
to  make  up  to  us  for  half  starving  us  while  navigating 
this  brig  ?  While  I'm  aboard  this  brig  my  wages  are  run- 
ning on,  and  why  shouldn't  my  full  victuals  he  running 
on  also  ?' 

'  'I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Clarke,'  said  one  of  the  men, 
with  a  grim  laugh,  'if  I  were  you,  and  didn't  like  my 
berth,  I'd  pack  up  my  bag  and  chest,  and  step  ashore.' 

"At  tins  the  other  men  laughed,  and  Clarke  knocked 
off,  and  said  no  more  about  the  matter. 

"But  now  that  we  hadn't  a  pound  of  beef  or  a  biscuit, 
and  were  already  weakened  by  exposure  and  short  grub, 
Clarke  spoke  more  openly.  He  said : 

'  '  Here  we  are  now  without  a  blessed  mouthful  of 
grub  aboard;  and  all  this  time  since  we  were  put  on  .short 
victuals  we've  been  saving  the  owner  ninepence  a  day 
each  man.  The  cargo  and  the  ship  are  insured,  and  if 
we  don't  live  to  get  ashore  the  owner  will  have  all  the 
value  of  the  brig  from  the  insurance  people,  and  all  the 
wages  too  except  those  who  drew  on  advance  notes. 
Now  I'm  blowed  if  I'm  going  to  let  the  owners  have  all 
my  money,  for  I  got  nothing  on  an  advance  note.  I'm 
not  one  of  the  sort  that  want  to  die.  I  want  to  live,  and 
I  mean  to  live;  and  I  want  to  get  my  money.' 

"The  other  men  said  they  all  wanted  to  live,  but  how 
was  it  to  be  done  ? 

"Clarke  suddenly  looked  round,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  evil  eye  which  made  my  blood  run  cold. 
Never  in  all  my  life  before  did  I  see  so  horrible  an  expres- 
sion in  any  man's  face.  There  was  something  in  it  like 
you  see  in  the  eye  of  a  rat  when  he  turns  on  you  in  a  cor- 
ner. Then  he  said,  in  a  low,  clear  voice:  'There  are  nine 
of  us ;  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  tend  the  pumps.  Why 
shouldn't  one  of  us  go  for  the  good  of  the  others  ;' 

"The  three  men  gave  a  groan  of  horror.  'No,'  said 
one  of  them,  indignantly;  '  we  were  messmates  together, 
and  we  can  die  together,  like  men— not  like  brute  beasts.' 


FEBIU'AUY    18,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"I  think  these  words  and  the  way  they  were  taken  by 
the  other  men  showed  Clarke  lie  had  no  chance  of  arguing 
them  into  what  lie  wanted  them  to  do.  All  the  remain- 
der of  that  watch  below  there  was  no  other  word  spoken: 
ami  when  we  went  on  deck  (we  had  to  guess  the  time,  ut' 
course,  for  we  had  no  watch  or  clock  goiny)  the  men 
avoided  Clarke,  and  when  lie  caught  hold  of  a  pump  han- 
dle with  another  of  the  men.  that  man  dropped  the  han- 
dle and  walked  aft.  I  tell  you,  my  lads,  that  if  the  men 
..  pi  di-^iisied.  I  was  frightened  well-nigh  out  of  my  life. 
1  sat  or  lay  thinking  on  the  deck  all  that  \\alch.  wonder- 
ing what  would  become  of  us. 

"I  thought  to  myself,  '('an  it  be  possible  that  we  are 
aboard  this  brig,  with  close  upon  t  \\  o  lin  udreil  ton  sol' oats. 
out  of  which  no  doubt  some  sort  of  food  could  be  made, 
and  that,  while  we  have  water  to  make  it  with,  we  inusi 
either  die  of  hunger  or  turn  cannibals  ;' 

".hist  ;is  the  captain  and  his  watch  came  on  deck  a 
thought  suddenly  struck  me.  and  I  uent  up  to  him — he 
was  a  kin  1  man.  and  I  wasn't  a  hit  afraid  of  him— and 
said.  '  May  I  speak  with  you  aft.  sir.  for  a  minute  f 

"  '  (  Vrtainly.  boy.'  lie  said.       '  (  !ome  this  way.' 
•'If  you   please,  sir.  .Inn   Clarke  said   in  the  cabin,  ill 
our    watch    be-low,  that    it    was   better  one  of  us  should  be 
killed  than  that  all  should  starve.' 

'•  'If  (  'larke,'  said  t  he  captain,  '  talks  a  n  \  re  such  hor- 
rible nonsense.  I'll  throw  him  over  tin-  side  t ol  him.' 

"'And.  if  you  please,  sir.  I  thought  ju-t  u  hen  you 
came  on  <lecl;  thai  we  might  be  able  to  get  SOtn 

"  '  But.  bo\  .  we  can't  touch  the  hatches.  Yon  know 
that  VCrj  Well;  and  even  i  I'  \  on  eol  at  the  oats,  what 
could  you  do  with  it  !  We're  not  horses;  \\e  can't  eat 
oats  '.' 

"'No.  sir;  but  if  we  broke  through  one  of  the  after- 
bulk  beads  u  e  could  get  some  oats,  and  we  could  grind  it 
up  in  the  cott'ce -mill,  and  boil  it  and  make  porridge.' 

"•Hurrah'.'  said  the  captain.  'Well  said.  voim-Mer 
We  ought  all  to  be  keel-hauled  for  not  thinking  of  that 
before.  Our  brains  must  have  uot  stupid  with  hardship 
and  hunger.  Come  on.  men.  Cheer  up.  The  yommsier 
has  done  the  trick,  and  we  ought  all  to  be  ashamed  of  our- 
selves.' 

"  In  a  very  few  minutes  the  carpenter  was  at  work  bor- 
ing an  auger-hole  in  the  bulk-head  between  the  hold  and 
the  captain's  state-room,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  more 
we  had  a  couple  of  buckets  of  oals.  We  put  on  a  pot  of 
water;  we  roused  up  the  lire:  we  clamped  Ihe  coll'ee-mill 
to  Ihe  cabin  table;  and  while  one  man  attended  the  lire, 
another  ground  away  as  hard  as  he  could. 

"When  all  was  ready  the  captain  called  all  the  men 
down  to  the  cabin  and  shut  the  companion  on  the  inside 
so  as  to  keep  out  the  water.  Then  he  said:  'My  lads,  we 
have  to  thank  this  youngster  here  for  this  line  supper  of 
porridge  when  we  are  on  the  point  of  starving.  There  is 
one  amongst  us  who  shall  have  no  porridge  to-night. 
Jim  Clarke  wanted  us  to  turn  man  eaters.  He  shall 
make  his  supper  to-night  of  the  top  of  a  belaying  pin. 
But  to-morrow  morning,  just  to  show  him  we're  not  as 
great  brutes  as  he,  we  will  give  him  half  a  plateful.  Now, 
my  lads,  let  us  all  thank  God,  and  then  you  fall  to.' 

"The  captain  did  not  eat  a  mouthful  until  all  of  us 
had  finished,  but  I  warrant  you  that  did  not  take  us  long. 
Jim  Clarke  begged  and  howled  for  some,  but  the  captain 
would  not  give  him  a  spoonful.  'No,  my  sonny,'  said 
he;  'you'll  do  to-night  on  cold  water,  and  if  the  night's 
fasting  kills  you  we  promise  not  to  eat  you  up,  but  to 
throw  you  overboard  as  if  you  were  a  good  shipmate  and 
no  man-eating  sea-lawyer.' 

"For  live  days  more  we  drifted  about  in  the  Western 
Ocean,  and  were  then  sighted  by  a  homeward-bound 
bark.  She  bore  down  upon  us,  and  sent  a  boat  aboard. 
Soon  we  had  plenty  of  provisions.  The  captain  of  the 
bark  offered  to  take  us  all  off ,  but  our  captain  refused  to 


go.  The  bark  fortunately  had  some  spare  spars,  which 
were  thrown  overboard,  and  towed  to  us  by  the  boat. 
The  captain  al>'>  gave  us  some  spare  sails,  and  enough 
provisions  to  last  us  for  a  month,  and  he  sent  his  own 
second  mate,  who  had  passed  in  navigation,  aboard  us. 

"When  the  captain  of  the  bark  had  done  all  this  he 
promised  to  stand  by  us  for  a  day  or  two  to  see  how  we 
ii"i  on.  At  the  end  of  that  day  we  had  got  a  jury-mast 
rigged  to  the  foremast,  and  011  this  we  set  a  large  square- 
sail.  Next  day  \\e  ringed  up  another  sail,  and,  to  make  a 
long-  story  short,  crept  slowly  back  to  the  coast  of  Ireland, 
and  at  last  arrived  in  Kinsale. 

"It  was  three  months  before  the  Dolpliin  was  again 
ready  for  sea.  I  have  sailed  in  her  pretty  much  ever 
since,  and  met  with  no  accident  of  any  account.  One 
good  thing  those  two  months  in  the  Western  Ocean  did 
me  \\as  to  show  me  that  every  ambitious  boy  who  goes  to 
sea  ought  to  know  navigation.  It  is  thirty-five  years 
since  1  parsed,  and  I  am  now  (pialiiied  to  take  any  kind  of 
a  craft  to  any  part  of  the  world." 


REG. 

MATTHEW  WHITE.  JUX. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IT  down  by  the  lire  whilst  I  hurries  up  the  tay,"  said 
M  rs.  Tin  I  in  rii,  casting  about  her  in  search  of  a  c  hail- 
that  was  not  lillc-d  with  articles  of  one  kind  or  another. 
"Billy '11  be  in  enn\  minute  now.  But  shurc  'n'  w  here's 
\  er  clothes  .'" 

Reg's  lirst  impulse  was  to  answer  that  he  had  them  on; 
then  understanding  what  the  woman  meant,  he  replied, 
gravely.  "  In  Aunt  Susan's  hag." 

"An'  where's  yer  Aunt  Susan,  an'  why  don't  yez  stop 
wid  her  r 

But  Keir  \\  as  spared  explaining  this  delicate  point  by  the 
entrance  of  Billy,  his  twin  Prince.  He  was  perhaps  a 
tritle  older  than  Keg,  and  had  a  pale,  freckled  face,  red- 
dish hair,  and  a  turn-up  nose  that  lent  him  anything  but 
a  princely  cast  of  countenance. 

"Shure,  Billy,"  cried  his  mother,  waving  the  loaf  of 
bread  she  was  cutting  toward  Reg,  "  here's  the  bhiy  Mr. 
Smith's  hired  to  take  poor  Sammy's  place  in  the  play  to- 
night; an'  yer  both  to  be  at  the  theaytre  at  siven  prompt, 
as  this  new  un  hasn't  had  any  rehearsin'." 

The  two  boys  slared  at  one  another,  as  boys  always  do 
on  being  introduced. 

Reg  had  his  month  open  to  ask  some  more  questions, 
when  Mrs.  Tiuburn  exclaimed,  "Shure  an'  it's  toime  yez; 
were  off,"  and  five  minutes  later  the  two  boys  were  on 
their  way  to  Smith's  Theatre,  to  make  their  debut  as  the 
Twin  Princes. 

"Will  to-night  be  the  first  time  you  ever  acted  ?"  asked 
Reg.  keeping  close  to  Billy's  shabby  coat  as  they  hurried 
along. 

"No,  I  played  in  a  piece  last  winter  over  a  hundred 
times." 

"  Don't  you  ever  feel  kind  of— kind  of  trembly  ?"  con- 
tinued Reg. 

"  No,  there  ain't  nothin'  to  tremble  about  or  be  scared 
of  'ceptiu'  Dan  Danderbry.  He  makes  fun  o'  me  foine 
clothes,  an'  says  they  ought  to  reduce  me  wages,  'cause  I'm 
so  pale,  an  'use  up  so  much  paint,''  and  poor  white-faced 
Billy  gave  a  weak  little  laugh  as  he  tried  to  make  a  joke 
of  his  persecutions. 

"Use  up  so  much  paint!"  exclaimed  Reg,  inquiring- 
ly. "Oh  yes,  I  remember  Mr.  Smith  said  I  would  look 
better  when  I  had  some  on.  Does  it  hurt  when  they 
do  it?" 

"Not  a  bit,  but  yez  must  kape  orful  still,  or  Madame 
York,  the  ould  lady  what  fixes  us  up  '11  stick  the  brush  in 


236 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BILLY    AND   KEG   IX   TUE    COSTUME   OF   THE    "TWIN    PRINCES. 


yer  eye.  But  here's  the  theay tre ;  now  kape  close  to  me, 
which  is  what  yez  must  do  the  whole  eveniu';"  and  as  he 
spoke  Billy  hurried  in  at  the  stage-door. 

For  an  instant  Reg'  shrank  back,  but  Billy  pulled  him 
in,  whispering1  sharply,  "Don't  be  scared,"  and  presently 
the  two  boys  were  helping  one  another  dress  as  the  Twin 
Princes. 

Billy's  costume  was  exactly  the  same  as  Reg's,  and  very 
queer  he  looked,  with  his  pale,  pinched  features  set  off  by 
such  splendid  attire.  However,  as  soon  as  the  \yigs  had 
been  adjusted,  he  told  Reg  to  come  with  him  upstairs, 
where,  in  a  little  room  oft  the  stage,  a  very  cross  old  wo- 
man, with  a  bundle  of  colored  sticks  in  her  hand,  speedily 
gave  a  vivid  Hush  to  the  pale  cheeks,  and  an  inky  black- 
ness to  the  straggling  eyebrows. 

When  it  came  Reg's  turn  to  be  ''touched  up,"  he  sat 
down  on  the  rickety  chair  with  much  the  same  sensations 
he  had  experienced  on  his  first  visit  to  the  dentist's,  but 
remembering  Billy's  caution,  he  scarcely  breathed  while 
Madame  York's  skillful  fingers  did  the  necessary  work. 

"  Now  come,"  directed  Billy;  "yez  must  get  used  to  the 
stage,  yer  know,  so  ye  won't  be  afther  gapiii'  all  about, 
loike  a  wild  Injun,  whin  ye  go  on  in  the  percession — but 
what's  the  matter  wid  ye  ;"  for  Reg  had  suddenly  grasped 
his  brother  Prince  by  the  arm  with  a  clutch  that  was  not 
a  little  startling. 


"Look  there!  What's 
that  ?"  and  Reg  with  trem- 
bling finger  pointed  to  a 
row  of  hideous  skeletons 
grinning  at  them  from  be- 
hind a  side  scene. 

"Oh,  shure  an'  those  be 
only  the  remains  found  af- 
ther the  big  battle  in  the 
third  act;  an'  moind,  don't 
ye  go  to  hem'  afeard  o'  the 
firin',  for  it  won't  hurt  yez, 
though  ye  can't  see  for  the 
smoke.'' 

Poor  Reg!  What  with 
skeletons.  battles,  and 
blinding  smoke  to  look  for- 
ward to,  life  on  the  stage 
did  not  seem  half  so  invit- 
ing  as  it  had  in  the  after- 
noon: and  then  everything 
was  so  different  here  be- 
hind the  curtain.  No  gild- 
ing, not  even  paint  or  plas- 
ter to  hide  the  bricks;  all 
the  lights  inclosed  with 
cage-like  wire  screens  in- 
stead of  handsome  glass 
globes;  no  soft  carpet  on 
the  floor,  but  dust  and  dirt 
everywhere,  and —  "Hel- 
lo, youngster !" 

This  exclamation,  ac- 
companied as  it  was  by  a 
tremendous  slap  on  the 
shoulder,  so  startled  Reg 
that  he  fell  back  heavily 
against  one  of  the  shaky 
pillars  of  the  palace,  caus- 
ing it  to  tremble  from  its 
foundations. 

"  Good-even  ing.  Prince, " 
went  on  the  irrepressi- 
ble Danderbry.  "Do  you 
think  you  will  be  able  to 
get  along  until  eleven  with- 
out taking  another  nap  f" 

But  at  that  moment  some  one  called  "Dan!  Dan  !"  and 
Reg  was  left  in  peace  and  solitude,  for  the  call-boy's  ap- 
pearance was  the  signal  for  Billy  Tiuburn's  instant  dis- 
appearauce. 

In  vain  did  Reg  seek  for  him  among  the  stately  corri- 
dors of  the  castle;  not  a  boy  was  to  be  seen,  only  carpen- 
ters and  scene-shifters,  in  their  shirt  sleeves,  putting  the 
linishing  touches  to  the  abode  of  the  Twin  Princes. 

"Where  can  he  be  ?"  wondered  the  boy,  anxiously ;  for 
without  Mr.  Smith  or  Billy  at  his  side,  he  felt  quite  awed 
by  the  strange  sights  around  him. 

So,  hurrying  in  and  out  between  scenes  representing 
houses  and  forests,  streets  and  prisons,  he  finally  reached 
a  piece  of  canvas,  the  flapping  of  which  tempted  him  to 
draw  it  aside  to  see  if  Billy  had  not  vanished  behind  it. 
But  he  had  no  sooner  put  his  head  in  at  the  opening  than 
he  drew  it  back  again  with  a  jerk,  for  he  had  seen,  not  a 
possible  hiding-place  for  Billy  Tiliburn,  but  the  half-as- 
sembled audience  in  the  parquet. 

''  Here,  you  young  rascal,  what  do  you  mean  by  ex- 
posing yourself  before  the  curtain  in  that  style  '.''  and  Mr. 
Wellington  Smith's  voice  did  not  sound  at  all  friendly,  as 
he  pulled  Reg  toward  him  by  the  ear,  and  threatened  him 
with  a  box  on  the  same  if  he  did  not  behave  himself. 
"Now  do  you  know  what  you  have  to  do?  Have  \o" 
gone  over  the  part  with  Billy  Tinhurn,  as  I  told  yon  to  ." 


KKBKI'ARY    I:1.,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


237 


"If  you  please,  sir."  answered  Reg.  as  evenly  as  he 
could  with  his  heart  beating  in  between  tin*  words.  "  1 
<-an't  iind  I'.illy." 

"  Not  tind  him  .'  Why.  didn't  he  come  lien-  \vil1i  vim  :' 
Ilnii'j-  him  In  me  instantly  — inslanl  ly.  1  say:"  and  tile 
;;ngiy  junior  manager  glowered  at  Reg  si>  tii  rr'  ly  that 
the  latter  dashed  ott'  right  among  the  dangling  skeletons 
\villicnil  so  much  as  giving  them  a  thought. 

II-  met  ihe  object  iif  his  search  just  coming  up  from 

Ihe  dressing  room,  whither  lie  had  retreated   In  escape  the 

merciless  Danderbry,  and  ha-nl\  and  \\iih  inward  irepi 

d.itinn  the  t\vo  hoys  returned  tu  stand  liet'nre  Mr.  \Velling- 
lun  Smith. 

That  gentleman  greeted  them  \villi  some  very  unplea- 
sant remarks,  and  after  having  caused  them  lioth  to  hang 
their  heads  as  if  they  had  been  caught  stealing  apples,  he 
ordered  them  to  retire  to  the  wings,  and  march  in  with 
the  air  of  princes. 

lint  now  the  musicians  in  the  orchestra  could  he  heard 
timing  up,  and  the  next  moment  a  throng  of  courtiers. 
soldiers,  servants,  and  pages  swarmed  over  the  stage,  ef 
fectually  putting  a  stop  to  any  more  impromptu  rehears- 
als. Keg  n  as  then  handed  over  tu  the  stage  manager,  an 
oh'  man  with  i-pectach-.-,.  rumpled  hair,  and  such  a  wild 
look  that  poor  Prince  Budanay  fairly  quailed  before 
him. 

••  Non  stand  right  here."  was  his  command  to  the  boys. 

"  You're    on    ill    all    acts    except    the    second;"    and    tie   u    111 

rapidly  explained  how.  where,  and  nhenthe\  were  to  sit 

down,  stand  up,  bon  .  wave  their  hands,  and  u  all,  oil' 

.Meannhile   the   orchestra   in    front    of   the   curtain   was 

playing  a  lively  inarch  ;   nidi,  w en.  and  children,  in  all 

sorts  of  cost  nines,  were  rushing  in  and  out  among  ihe 
wings.  Mr.  Smith  was  seen  living  back  and  forth,  -cold 
ing.  advising,  re  arranging,  and  scattering,  all  of  which 
sights  and  sounds  combined  nearly  drove  Ken- distracted, 
although  he  tried  not  to  mind  them,  but  to  think  mils  of 
the  work  before  him. 

Presently  the  miiMc  ceased,  a  bell  rang,  and  nith  a 
rushing  sound,  the  curtain  went  up  on  the  lirst  act  of  The 
Tirin  Prince*. 


Ordered  to  stand  back  against  the  wall.  Reg  could  only 
catch  fleeting  glimpses  of  what  took  place  on  the  stage, 
although  Billy  at  his  side  was  trying  to  explain  to  him 
the  plot  of  the  piece,  and  "who  was  who."  Every  now 
and  then  men  and  \\omen  in  knee-breeches,  long  trains, 
and  pondered  wigs,  would  brush  by  them  to  be  readv  to 
enter  al  the  proper  moment,  and  Keg  decided  that  all  the 
school-masters  in  the  country  could  not  look  as  cross  nor 
speak  as  sharply  as  the  stage-manager,  who  appeared  to 
be  able  to  read  the  book  in  his  hand,  watch  the  play, 
and  I'ronn  at  the  nailing  actors  all  at  one  and  the  same 
time. 

I'.nl  M.IU  the  n  ings  began  to  lill  up  with  the  red-coated 
soldiers  from  t  lie  dressing  room  don  n  stairs,  among-  them 
being  included  a  full  military  hand.  A  thin  little  man 
then  set  about  the  task  of  forming  the  procession  which 
nas  to  escort  the  Twin  1'rinces  to  their  throne,  and  da/./.le 
the  audience  with  its  splendors.  Eight  pages,  four  in 
front  and  four  behind,  took  their  places  next  Keg  and 
Billy,  while  the  line  of  court  ladies  and  noblemen  extend 
ed  (mile  a  long  distance  toward  the  rear  of  the  building. 

Hut    1'rince  I'.ndaway  never  felt  more  like  Reg  Robin 
sun  in  his  life,  and  the  hand  he  was  told  to  rest  gracefully 
on  his  sword  hilt  shook  so  as  to  call   forth  a  sharp  rebuke 
from  the  thin  little  drill-master,  who  spoke  with  a  funny 
French  accent,  and  who  seemed  to  think  that  it  was  his 

dut\    to    jerk    | p|e   into   their  places   as   if  they    were    so 

many   nooden  puppets. 

<  )h,  how  heartily  Keg  \\ished  himself  back"  at  Broad 
farms  with  Aunt  Susan!  for  how  was  he,  who  had  never 
even  seen  a  pla\  in  all  his  life,  to  satisfy  the  requirements 
of  all  I  bese  cross  people,  who  1  wisted  his  shoulders  straight, 
raised  his  head  by  hitting  him  under  the  chin,  and  trained 
him  for  his  role  by  various  other  exceedingly  practical 
methods  ? 

"Second  scene,  ready!"  suddenly  called  out  the  Argus- 
eyed  man  with  the  book,  and  the  next  instant  the  drums 
began  to  beat,  then  the  military  band  burst  out  with  a 
crash  of  sounds,  and  the  "grand,  unequalled  pageant" 
moved  forward. 

[TO    BK    rOXTISl'ED.] 


'J 


"SrC'JT    A    HEAVY    LOAD!" 


23  S 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Tiuo  PLACE,  l.oi  ISIANA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  living  in  North  Louisiana,  rind 
I  want  to  tell  you  about  a  trap  set  by  my  bro- 
ther Harry,  ami  what  lie  caught  in  it.  H<-  and  a 
little  colored  boy  named  Sam  set  a  trap  in  the 
Harden  under  a  pear-tree.  The  next  morning. 
when  they  went  to  look  at  it.  ir,  was  sprung,  and 
under  it  was  mamma's  speckled  hen.  She  had 
gone  under  to  get  tin-  meal,  and  had  sprung  the 
trap  on  herself.  She  was  so  big  that  the  trap 
fitted  on  her  back,  and  she  would  raise  it  up  ev- 
ery time  she  fluttered  her  wings,  but  she  couldn't 
get  out,  and  there  she  was,  squawking  and  flut- 
tering like  everything. 

I  wish  that  I  eould  draw  a  picture  to  show  you 
how  funny  Harry  and  Sam  looked  trying  to  get 
herout,  for  she  was  as  fierce  as  a  cat.  The  boys 
were  both  on  their  knees.  Harry  so  very,  very 
white— even  his  hair  is  white— and  Sam  so  very, 
very  black. 

Harry  and  Sam  go  to  the  gin-house  every  day 
to  get  ootton-seed  to  feed  the  sheep  and  calves 
with,  and  it  is  very  funny  to  see  them  both  on 
old  John,  the  horse.  Harry  in  front,  ami  Sam  be- 
hind holding  the  sack  of  seed,  and  sometimes 
old  John  throws  them  both  off  right  in  the  mud. 

Harry's  aunt  gave  him  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE tor  a  Christmas  present,  and  1  read  it  too,  and 
like  it  very  much.  Some  time  I  will  write  and 
tell  you  about  a  wonderful  dog  of  ours. 

VIRGINIA  H.  J. 


GOLDSBOROUGH,  NORTH    CAROLINA. 

My  brother  and  I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
ever  since  it  was  published,  and  we  like  the  let- 
ters so  much  that  L  want  to  write  one  too.  We 
have  a  little  dog  named  Trotty,  and  we  love  him 
as  much  as  Toby  Tyler  loved  Mr.  St.ubbs.  We 
iiad  last  summer  a  kitty  named  Jumbo,  and  one 
day  we  found  her  in  the  back  yard  dead.  My 
little  brother  threw  himself  on  the  bed  and  cried, 
and  then  Cousin  Josie  got  a  box  and  put  the  kit- 
ty in,  and  made  a  wreath  of  daisies  all  around 
her  head;  then  Clintie  came  and  looked  at  her, 
and  didu't  cry  any  more,  and  helped  us  bury  her. 

BERTIE  D. 

It  certainly  is  a  great  comfort  to  give  a  poor 
dead  pet  a  nice  funeral,  is  it  not,  children? 

NEW  LONDON,  CONNECTICUT. 

Not  long  ago  I  saw  in  the  Post-office  Box  a  letter 
from  a  boy  named  Charles  E.  T.,  living  in  Aincs- 
bury,  Massachusetts,  who  said  he  was  twelve 
years  old  on  the  3d  of  October  last.  I  would  like 
to  ask  him  if  he  knew  he  had  a  twin  in  New  Lon- 
don. I  was  twelve  years  old  on  the  same  day. 
The  only  trouble  is,  our  names  are  not  the  same. 

I  have  been  sick  with  scarlet  fever,  and  had  a 
relapse,  and  was  sick  with  the  relapse  longer  than 
I  was  with  the  fever.  I  have  been  sick  eight 
weeks  in  all,  and  have  to  do  all  sorts  of  things  to 
amuse  myself,  as  I  am  alone  a  good  deal  of  the 
time.  My  principal  occupation  has  been  reading 
over  the  back  numbers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  and  St. 
Nicholas.  1  have  a  brother  Charles  a  year  older 
than  myself,  and  I  should  like  to  see  my  twin  and 
see  if  he  is  anything  like  my  brother. 

LOUISE  H.  A. 

Let  me  tell  you  of  my  dear  little  baby  brother. 
His  name  is  Cadwaligar :  rather  an  old  and  odd 
name  for  such  a  small  child,  perhaps  Inn  it  is  a 
family  name.  We  call  him  \Vallie  for  short,  and 
he  is  so  sweet,  and  he  seems  so  wise  !  He  is  crazy 
after  picture-books,  and  even  hails  dear  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  when  it  arrives. 

Dear  Postmistress,  I  often  wish  I  had  the  sweet, 
gentle  disposition  you  have,  with  all  of  us  send- 
ing so  many  letters  which  must  go  through  your 
hands.  Good-by.  LULU  C. 

Thank  yon.  dearie.  The  more  letters  the  mer- 
rier. If  you  should  all  stop  writing,  just  think 
what  a  forlorn  Postmistress  I  would  be. 


BALTIMORE,  MARYLAND. 

Will  you  oblige  a  little  girl  ten  years  old  by  put- 
ting her  little  story  in  the  Post-office  Box? 

LITTLE  MAY'S  UEWARD. 

There  was  once  a  little  girl  named  May.  When 
she  was  seven  years  old  she  had  a  great  habit  of 
running  away,  and  once,  when  she  was  wander- 
ing about  in  the  yard,  she  found  a  bright  live- 
cent  piece.  At  first  she  thought  she  would  keep 
it,  for  her  mother  was  not  very  well  off,  with  two 
or  three  little  ones  besides  her  ;  but  jusi  then  she 
remembered  what  her  Sunday-school  teacher  had 
told  her.  that  she  must  never  take  a  pin  which 
did  not  belong  to  her,  so  she  went  into  the  house 
and  told  her  mother  all  about  it. 

Her  mother  was  just  then  talking  to  a  lady, 
who  told  her  that  her  little  boy  had  "lost  the  five 


cents,  and  then  she  kissed  little  May,  and  told  her 
that  it  was  very  sweet  of  her  to  try  and  find  the 
owner,  and  the  very  next  day  a  box  came  for 
May,  and  in  it  was  a  beautiful  doll,  and  that  was 
May's  reward.  MARY  A.  M. 

MissC.  L.  H.,  of  New  York,  incloses  to  the  Post- 
mistress, precisely  as  he  wrote  it,  a  composition 
by  one  of  her  pupils — a  boy  of  eleven.  The  in- 
terest taken  by  teachers  in  the  Post-office  Box  is 
very  gratifying. 

THE  COW. 

The  cow  is  a  very  useful  animal  in  many  ways. 
There  is  always  something  sleepy-looking  about 
a  cow.  Some  cows  are  very  pretty.  And  when 
the  weather  is  hot.  and  the  Hies  \\.UTV  them,  they 
wade  in  some  neighboring  stream  or  river  and 
e,  ml  off;  that  is.it  a  river  or  stream  runs  through 
the  pasture  in  which  they  are.  1  said  before  that 
the  cow  was  useful.  She  gives  us  milk,  and  tr<  ,m 
the  milk  we  make  cream,  butter,  and  eh'  ese 
And  when  they  kill  her  we  make  leather  of  her 
skin,  and  glue  of  her  hoots  and  horns. 

In  the  winter  we  keep  her  in  the  barn,  and  we 
feed  her  on  turnips,  pumpkins,  and  hay.  Hut  in 
the  spring  and  summer  they  lie  and  roam  about 
the  pasture  or  woods  all  day  long,  and  feed  on 
grass  and  clover  until  it  is  time  for  them  to  be 
milked.  I  eould  say  many  tilings  about  the  cow, 
but  1  will  reserve  them  for  the  next  time. 

NEW  YORK  Cirv.  I)',XN  B. 

Thanks  are  due  to  Miss  E.  M..  of  Pittsburgh,  for 
her  kind  words  about  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  for  the 
clever  budget  from  her  little  pupils.  Then-  is 
room  to  publish  only  one  of  the  letters,  but  while 
Charlie  W.'s  appears  in  the  l'<  ,st-officeBox, George 
D.  W.and  Ella  \V.  may  be  glad  to  know  that  the 
Postmistress  thought  their  letters  very  well  writ- 
ten, and  a  credit  to  themselves  and  their  teacher. 
As  t  liese  children  have  but  lately  begun  to  write, 
they  will  no  doubt  make  wonderful  progress  the 
coming  year : 

PITTSBURGH,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

My  name  is  Charlie  W.,  and  I  live  in  Pittsburgh. 
We  have  a  big  blood-hound  :  it  will  pull  a  cart. 
We  had  a  eat,  and  the  dog  killed  it.  I  have  a  lit- 
tle brother,  and  lie  has  a  goat ;  and  it  pulls  a  cart, 
and  he  has  a  set  of  harness.  My  uncle  lias  two 
horses  and  a  cow,  and  it  is  a  wild  cow.  I  ha  \ ,  -, 
dove,  and  I  call  it  Joe  ;  it  is  a  tame  dove.  1  let  it 
out  one  day.  and  it,  flew  away  and  staid  a  week 
1  like  pets,  and  take  good  care  of  them. 

CHARLIE  W. 


ENGLEWOOH,  ILLINOIS. 

It  is  so  cold  to-day  (January  22i  that  the  schools 
have  beeu  dismissed,  the  temperature  having  fall- 
en to  thirty  degrees  below  zero.  I  send  a  very 
pretty  experiment,  which  I  hope  some  of  you 
will  try.  Take  a  bottle  with  a  very  large  neck, 
ami  till  it  with  water  up  to  the  neck.  Next  go 
to  the  drug  store  and  get  about  three  cents' 
worth  of  sugar  of  lead.  Pour  the  lead  into  the 
water,  and  let  it  dissolve.  Then  take  a  small 
piece  of  zinc,  double  it  up,  and  tie  a  piece  of  string 
to  it.  Next  i^et  a  mateh,  and  tie  the  other  end 
of  the  string  to  the  middle  of  it.  After  this  is 
done,  lay  the  match  across  the  mouth  of  the  bot- 
tle, letting  the  zinc  hang  by  the  >i  ring  three-quar- 
ters of  the  depth  of  the  bottle  into  the  water.  If 
the  bottle  is  not  jarred,  it  will  be  very  pretty  in 
about  five  days.  I-'KANK  i'. 

SEWASF.K,  TENNESSEE. 

I  have  not  seen  a  letter  from  this  place.  This 
is  my  first  attempt  for  the  paper.  I  am  a  little 
girl  seven  years  old.  I  have  two  sisters.  We  are 
living  with  our  auntie;  she  is  making  a  visit  in 
Texas  this  winter.  1  have  a  dog  named  Ring,  and 
some  beautiful  chickens,  which  1 1<  ive  very  much. 
I  like  "Nan"  very  much,  but  1  like  Jimmy  Brown's 
stories  best.  I  wish  you  would  ask  him  to  write 
again.  My  cousin  Juliet  gave  me  HARPER'S  Youxa 
PEOPLE  this  year.  I  have  enjoyed  it  very  much. 
I  would  be  glad  to  see  this  letter  in  print ;  it  would 
surprise  my  auntie,  and  please  her. 

JOHNNIE  T. 


WAVSTHE,  MISSISSIPPI. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old,  and  have  just 
commenced  to  take  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I 
am  just  beginning  to  read;  I  can  not  write,  though, 
because  1  am  so  unfortunate  as  to  have  my  right 
arm  paralyzed.  I  have  three  little  sisters  and 
one  little  brother,  all  younger  than  I  am.  We 
are  delighted  with  the  dear  little  paper,  and  great- 
ly interested  in  the  Wiggles.  I  send  you  one  in 
answer  to  No.  81.  which  I  do  hope  may  be  the 
right  guess.  Your  little  friend.  CARLILE  W 


FORT  CONCHO,  TEXAS. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— You  invited  me  to  write 
again,  so  I  thought  I  would  do  so.  I  said  in  my 
other  letter  that  I  would  tell  you  about  pecan 
nutting  and  Indian  pony  riding.  Early  in  Octo- 
ber i  here  are  loads  of  pecan-nuts  along  the  banks 
of  the  Concho  Itiver.  on  tall  trees.  We  children 
get  into  a  big  government  ambulance  drawn  l,\ 
four  mules,  take  gunny  sacks  to  put  the  nuts 
into,  and  when  we  get  to  the  place  our  big  bro- 


ther climbs  the  tree  and  shakes  it  hard,  and  down 
come  ihe  nuts,  oh:  we-  have  so  much  fun,  and 
the  nuts  are  so  niee  while  they  are  fresh  ! 

All  the  children  here  who  can  afford  it  have 
ponies  Ours  is  a  genile  little  steel  gray  one. 
Sister  Mary  and  myself  take  turns  riding:  she 
goes  one  (lay,  and  I  the  next.  We  just  go  fly- 
ing over  these  wild  prairies,  and  feel  splendid. 
There  is  a  "post  school"  here,  but  we  are  taught 
at  h<, me  ;  papa  hears  our  book  lessons,  and  mam- 
ma attends  to  our  music.  We  are  learning  the 
piano  and  guitar.  Our  brother  Guy  has  gone 
North  to  school. 

There  are  seven  companies  here,  two  cavalry 
(colored i  and  tive  infantry  (white  men).  The 
cavalr)  soldiers  ride  tine  big  horses.  This  is  the 
head-quarters  of  our  regiment.  The  regimental 
band  is  here;  it  plays  in  the  ban, I  stand  nearly 
every  day,  and  we  have  ilress  parade  twice  a 
week.  There  are  a  great  many  officers  with  their 
families  at  this  fort. 

We  read  YOUNG  PEOPLE  and  .V.  .Yi< /in/us.  We 
are  not  allowed  to  read  novels.  I  think  "Nan" 
is  the  best  story  I  ever  read. 

Dear  Postmistress,  I  would  like  to  hear  how 
you  like  the  drawings  I  send.  I  am  fond  of  draw- 
ing. 

Good-by.  I  send  you  my  love,  because  it  seems 
as  if  I  knew  you  so  well.  RUTH  W.  P. 

I  like  your  drawings  very  much,  especially  the 
cow,  which  is  quite  life-like.  And  1  like  your  let- 
ter, and  am  sure  the  readers  of  the  Post-office 
Box  will  be  pleased  with  it  too. 


THE  FROST  ON  THE  WINDOW. 

Bright  pictures  of  fairy-land  etched  on  our  win- 
dows. 

Etched  by  Jack  Frost's  bright  silvery  pen, 
Showing  us  truly  the  abode  of  the  fairies 

And  elves  in  a  picture  again  and  again. 

A  delicate  picture  in  glistening  silver, 
Destroyed  by  a  touch,  or  even  a  breath  ; 

Then  lost  to  us  ever,  forever,  forever. 
The  beautiful  picture  that  thus  met  its  death. 

They  show  us  the  rivers,  the  hills,  and  the  val- 
leys, 

The  mountains  and  plains  of  that  hidden  land ; 
They  show  us  the  trees  and  the  flowers  of  the 

elves, 
They  show  us  the  forms  of  that  mystic  band. 

Thus  in  our  hearts  are  the  queer-woven  fancies 
And   dreams  of  the  future,  so  pleasant  and 

bright. 
Seen  through  the  day,  when  we  gaze   at  the 

world, 

And  woven  and  dreamed  in  the  midst  of  the 
night. 

HELEN  M.  CHASE  (1.3  years  old). 


MAPLEWOOD,  II.IIN,,I«. 

I  am  interested  in  the  Post-office  l!ox.  and  like 
YOUNO  PEOPLE  very  much.  I  am  just  twelve  years 
old.  I  like  history,  having  read  \\illtu-tr*  1'itirer- 
sal  Histun/,  Barnes's  lirin  1/ixtnni  of  the  United 
States,  itiieml  iri*t<inj.  l\tn  1'nrl,  //'»•  UniVi  I'm/  Jfis- 
tory,  and  Goodric/t'a  II~i*ti,nj  nf  Kinjliunl  through. 
I  do  not  study  modelling,  but  I  have  been  mod- 
elling for  two  years  in  wax  only  tor  amusement. 
1  study  drawing,  and  have  been  going  to  school 
for  only  four  months.  I  study  biology  at  home. 
I  made  my  first  bust  one  year  ago,  one  of  Colum- 
bus, which  my  parents  think  is  worth  keeping; 
it  is  two  inches  high.  I  am  making  a  collection 
of  minerals,  oild  stones,  etc.  i  make  row-boats, 
^,\en  and  eight  inches  long,  with  my  pocket- 
knife  ;  they  have  wax  occupants  in  them. 

When  I  was  at  my  grandpa's,  on  the  prairies  of 
Kansas,  the  herd-boy  found  a  young  prairie-wolf, 
and  liroiight  it  home.  1  put  it  with  the  old  cat, 
and  she  adopted  it.  It  would  have  starved  the 
kittens  if  mother  had  not  taken  it  away.  Then 
we  fed  it  with  milk,  and  it  became  a  great  pet,  as 

well  as  a  neighborh 1  nuisance,  as  it  killed  all 

the  chickens  that  it  could  find.  At  last  the  vexa- 
tion it  thus  occasioned  became  too  strong  to  be 
borne,  and  it  was  killed.  ARTINO  M 


Ki 


I  have  never  seen  a  letter  from  this  place,  so  I 
thought  I  would  write  one.  My  dear  papa  who 
is  in  Philadelphia,  sends  me  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PI.E  every  week,  and  I  like  it.  very  much  e-|,,,  i.il- 
"The  cruise  of  the  Canoe  Club,"  "Nan,"  and 
those  tales  by  Jimmy  Brown.  I  am  very  anx- 
ious every  week  for  the  postman  to  bring  it.  I 
have  not  any  brothers  or  sisters,  and  have  only 
one  pet,  a  little  thrush,  which  I  call  Jacko.  He 
will  say  almost  anything  that  I  try  to  teach 
him.  I  have  already  taught  him  to  call  "  Percy" 
(a  little  boy  next  door);  and  if  it  is  raining,  he 
will  call  out,  ••  Look  at  the  wet."  I  go  to  a  pri- 
vate school,  and  lam  in  the  first  class  and  I  study 
reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  grammar,  geogra- 
phy, history,  astronomy  (that  puzzles  me  most,, 
music,  and  dancing.  My  mamma  and  I  live  by 
ourselves,  but  I  have  lots  of  linle  iriends  who 
also  read  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  with  me  and 
they  like  it  very  much,  t  should  like  to  see  your 

,  country  very  much,  but  I  do  not  like  crossing  the 
water.  My  papa  likes  it  a  little  better  than  he 
did  at  first.  He  writes  to  me  every  week  to  tell 

!  me  about  America  and  the  places  he  goes  to  visit. 


FEBRUARY  13,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


The  weather  here  is  very milrl.  and  we  have  violets 
ami  pansics  in  full  bloom.  I  hope  y,ui  "ill  print 
this,  so  that  my  dear  papa  may  see  it.  as  In-  looks 
at  it  before  h<-  sends  ir  to  ni<- :  In1  will  In-  pleased 
i.i  see  ir  Trusting  the  Postmistress  hail  a  merry 
Christmas,  and  hoping  she  will  have  a  happy 
N.-w  Year,  With  best  love. 

ANNIE  W.  (aged  11  yearsl. 


SALKM.  N..KTII  I "  M^'Hiv  *. 

You  were  so  kind  as  to  publish  my  letter,  and 
in  tin-  note  after  it  you  asked  me  to  \vrite  to  you 

aim ui  our  Holiday  club.  Well,  we  meet  even 
Wednesday  ai  I  :!ii  r  51.  -\<  I  am  the  president,  I 
can  tell  you  best  about  it.  I  rail  the  roll  tir-l  lo 
open  the  meeting  (we  have  eight  members) :  then 
1  read  the  "  Holiday  Journal,  edited  by  our  sec- 
retary every  week,  each  membei ntrlbutin'g  a 

pii  oe  A  ft  IT  that  \ve  allow  our  members  to 
make  an\  motion  thev  \\ani  to  'I'll. 'a  we  read 
a  chapter  or  two  out  of  Alii-r  in  Wonderland.  We 
have  already  read  Tinn  Suinj,  i:  After  that  the 
ni  <•!  ing  eli  ises. 

Every  nimnli  we  elect  new  officers,  but  no  offi- 
cer maj  serve  more  than  t\v.  term*.  I  am  on  my 
second  term  as  president,  our  officers  are,  An 
iTwII.  1'..  president  ;  Howard  K.  It.,  secretary  : 
liufus  I,  P.,  treasurer;  and  Vddie  I  I'.  Mary  K. 
F.,  Will  K.  s..  i  Kita  I.  .and  Wiley  (.  G.  are  mem 

in  i ,      i  hope  i  iia\ t  made  tlii-  letter  too  lung 

ANPKKW  II.  P 

What  a  charming  little  order  of  arrangements 
M.n  have  ill  your  clilli.  and  how  pleasant  it  is  that 
you  have  both  girls  and  boys  as  member-,  and 
that  each  contributes  something  to  th.  i 
ment  of  all.  I  hope  the  Holiday  Club  may  long 
h1.  ni-isli. 

PROVIDES.-!:.    UllilliK     l-l    *M> 

I  have  a  dear  little  kitty  named  l-'ri//.ie.  and  I 
have  a  bird  named  Gypsy,  and  Ellcry.my  brut  her, 
has  :,  liird  named  cherry,  and  lit- lakes  HAKI'KK'S 

In     M,    IVnPl.K.       I    like    to    hear   the    little    lettOFS 

read      l-'ri/.y.ie  came  from  the  country,  and  two 
or  three  days  ago  she  caught  hertirsi  rat. 
We  have  a  little  si  i  uare  mat  made  of  wool,  and 

she  likes  In  sleep  on  it  very  much.  I  a  ill  live 
years  old.  and  my  brother  L'llery  was  nine  the 
17th  of  November.  Ellery  stands  at  the  head  ol 

the    -eenlid   class,  and    1    learn  at  home;    I    am    in 

thel-'ii-si  Keailer  My  mother  wrote  this,  bul  it  is 
all  my  own  words.  1  am  [earning now  to  write. 

and  I'  hope  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  can  write 
the  Idlers.  1  send  my  love  to  you.  \\ill  \.ui 
please  print  it '•  (. l-'by.  Ci.ivrosS.  \V. 


Nnw    Y.lltk    TlTV. 

I  was  disappointed  that  Allies  l-Me  I",  had  not 
\isiteil  Spa  in,  as  I  was  born  I  here,  within  twenty 
miles  i.f  t  he  A  Ihanibra  at  d'anada.  ->t  which  per 
haps  y.n  have  read.  I  am  thirteen  years  ..Id  to- 
day, and  papa  gave  me  a  hundred  dollar  bill  for 
my  present,  which  is  to  be  put  in  the  bank  tor 
my  "future  g,n  »<l  "  On  the  last  day  that  I  was 
eleven  years  old  I  dressed  up  all  my  dolls  .seven 
teem  and  sent  them  lo  a  mission  in  which  my 
auntie  is  bill-rested. 

Next  year  we  are  going  to  my  Spanish  home, 
I.imh  iiliurst.  and  I  ran  hardly  wait  lor  the  lime 
ti,  come.  I  have  visited  Kngla ml.  Scotland,  Ire- 
land, Prance, Switzerland, Germany,  Kussia.  Aus- 
tria. Italy.'  .reel-,-,  [ggypt,  and  Jerusalem.  I  would 
like  very  much  to  go  to  China  and  India,  but  papa 
has  hitherto  had  no  business  calling  him  then-. 
I  have  been  hen-  three  years,  and.  next  to  Spain. 
I  think  it  the  most  beautiful  country  I  over  sa\v. 

IDA  li. 


C.1.M1V,    ll.l.lNOIB. 

I  live  eighty-one  miles  smith  of  Chicago,  in  a 
little  town  in  Iroquois  county.  I  have  not  seen 
any  letter  from  this  neighborhood.  I  was  playing 
at  the  school-house,  and  I  broke  my  leg  playing 
"  Whip-Cracker"  Jive  weeks  ago  last  Thnrsdaj 
I  ran  not  sit  up  in  a  chair  yet,  but  the  doctors 
say  I  may  sit  up  next  Thursday. 

We  have  not  many  pets.  I  have  two  canaries, 
named  Uiek  and  (foldie :  the  latter  is  so  named 
because  she  is  just  like  gold.  We  caught  her  in 
the  street  in  June  two  summers  ago.  My  aunt 
in  Louisville  gave  us  Dick. 

Last  summer  papa  used  to  take  me  hunting 
with  him.  One- afternoon  we  walked  twelve  miles. 
When  we  were  coming  in  on  the  railroad  we  kill- 
ed a  snake  that  was  three  feet  lima,  and  had  five 
rattles.  Mr.  II.  put  two  charges  of  No. 6  shot  in 
it  ;  that  was  all  that  it  took  to  kill  it. 

Last  summer  we  were  in  Pennsylvania,  and  my 
two  cousins  and  myself  were  alone  in  the  woods 
•with  two  dogs,  when  we  came  across  a  snake  that 
was  five  feet  long.  A  man  happened  to  come 
along,  and  killed  the  snake  for  us.  We  tied  a 
si  rim;  around  its  neck,  and  dragged  it  home. 

There  is  a  place  in  Beaver  Comity  called  Hack- 
bone,  where  there  is  a  line  of  solid  rock.  There 
is  a  cave  up  in  the  rock  about  twenty  feet,  with 
a  natural  staircase. 

I  am  getting  a  collection  of  cards,  and  have  151; 
choice  ones.  Yours  truly.  WILLIE  C. 

When  I  read  that  you  broke  your  leg  playing 
"  Whip  cracker."  I  inquired  of  a  friend  of  mine, 
about  your  age.  how  it  was  played,  and  I  con- 
cluded from  his  description  that  it  was  a  danger- 


ous game.  I  hope  your  leg  is  as  strong  as  ever 
now,  and  that  you  may  always  come  off  victo- 
rious in  a  light  with  rattlesnakes. 


I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  have  the 
nicest  bai.y  Bister.  Her  name  is  Mary,  she  is 
nearly  live  months  old.  I  made  this  verse  up  all 
myself.  Here  it  is  : 

Darling  little  Daisy 

When  the  mornings  are  hazy 

Takes  her  umbrella  out. 

And  she  does  not  frown  nor  pout. 

JENMK  M.  L. 


LAVCASTKH,  KKVTLTKV. 

I  have  iust  received  my  first  number  of  Y-n  HG 
PKoi'i.r:,  and  seeing  so  many  nice  letters  from  lit- 
tle girls  and  boys.  I  thought  I  would  yvrite  one 
too  I  am  eight  years  old.  I  have  no  brothers. 
and  but  one  sj-t.  r  she  is  six  years  old:  her 
name  is  Sadie  I  go  to  school  when  I  am  well. 
I  have  been  sick,  but  I  am  improving  now. 

1  ha\e  mi  pets  except  one  cute  little  dog ;  his 

ILIIUI     is  GYPS]         lie    is   a    Hire  dog.  bill    lie    killed 

m>  sj-t.-i  's  kitty,  w  hioh  was  very  naughty  of  him 
We  had  a  beautiful  little  while  dog  named  Zip; 
In-  could  stand  on  his  hind-legs  and  walk  ai  ross 

the   11 -.      lie  was   st. ilen   out    of  our  yard   one 

night,  ami  we  ne\er  saw  him  any  mere.  I  wish 
you  would  please  explain  what  Young  People's 
Cut  is  fur  the  bench!  ot  \ourilew  subs. -fillers. 

\     C     1.. 

si  Man  •-  i  ree  Hospital  in  New  York  is  under 
I  lie  charge  of  some  kind  ladies  win.  are  very  sor- 
ry ti.r  the  sick  and  en; -pled  little  children  .if  the 

i •, whose  pan-Mi-  .  an  not  take  - i  care  of 

them  at  h..me.    [t  costs  $3000  to  endow  a  cot  in 

this  hospital.  Your  papa,  if  you  ask  him.  will 
explain  to  yon  hnw-  i!  i-  that  the  interest  ,,f  this 
sum  will  pay  all  the  expenses  "I  a  cot  from  year 

In  year,  s.i  thai    there  shall  always  I ne   liltl,- 

suffering  child  laken  care  of  in  this  little  bed. 
When  the  children  who  read  Yoi  M.  Pi  "i-ia  shall 
have  sent  all  the  money,  the  cot  will  be  theirs, 
and  their  child  will  be  in  il. 


PATIMi'T.  I  M.I  vs  *. 

[have  not  lak.  n  II  u:i-ia:'-  Yoi  M.  Pi  i.i'i.n  very 
long     imU    this  year.      I    like   it    s,,  much'      I  like 

to  read  the  letters,  so  mamma  says  I  may  tell  you 

s,,m,  thing  about  myself  and  pets  I  am  a  liti  I.- 
ln.\  1 1 -ii  years  old.  I  li\ .-  in  t  he  country,  and  ha\  .- 
almost  everything  I  wish  for.  I  have  a  little  gray 
pony;  his  name  is  Hid;  :  I  can  ride  him  an  >  place, 
and  turn  him  loos,.,  and  he  yyill  follow  me  almost 
like  .1  dog.  Then  1  have  a  nice  big  N.-wl'onml 
land  dog;  his  name  i-  Hill.  It  is  not  a  pi. -MX 
name  lor  a  dog.  I  nit  il  was  his  name  w  hen  he  was 
given  to  me,  s,,  1  ilid  not  change  it  Ib-  wall  ear- 
rv  a  big  basket  of  corn,  or  almost  a  nulling  I  give 
h'im  I,,  carry  Papa  has  promised  to  buv  me  a 
si  i  ,.l  liarne-s  for  him.  and  then  I  can  drive  him 
in  my  little  wagon  1  had  a  present  o!'  a  pair  of 
skates,  and  have  been  trying  to  learn  to  skate.  I 
do  \,  TV  well,  papa  says,  fora  little  boy.  ]  got  a 
lew  very  hard  falls,  but  I  did  not  mind  them. 

I.ITIAN  II. 


SPRING  IU\k-. 

Papa  gave  us  your  interesting  paper  on  Christ- 
mas, and  of  all  the  periodicals  we  take  we  ,-ajov 

it  the  in.ist  We  ha\e  a  beautiful  eountn  Inani 
in  ihe  northern  part  of  (icorgia.  our  spring  is 
very  large  and  beautiful,  and  so  we  named  the 
place  lor  it  "Spring  Bank."  We  like  "  .Nan"  very 
much  :  it  has  such  lovely  illustrations.  We  have 
four  dear  little  ponies,  Phu-be.  Lightning,  (Jvpsy. 
ami  Cuy  Mannering,  the  last  from  sir  Walter 
Seoit's  novel  i, ui/  Mniinfriny.  Things  seem  to 
cling  to  us  in  their  old  age,  as  we  had  an  old 
horse  named  Hosalio  that  was  thirty-five  years 
old  when  she  died,  and  we  have  a  dog  named 
Pont,,  thirteen  years  old,  and  several  other  old 
animals.  This  is  our  first  letter  to  a  paper. 

ELI.IE,  NELLIE,  and  GEOI;I;E. 


OAKLAND,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  have  a  dog  ;  his  name  is  Snub.  He  takes  the 
eat  bv  the  back  of  the  neck,  and  drags  her  all 
around.  I  have  some  bantam  chickens,  and  when 
they  were  hatched  they  looked  like  little  mice  I 
was  nine  years  old  last  August.  I  take  HARPER'S 
YorNi;  PE'OPLK  every  week,  and  it  gives  me  much 
pleasure.  ROY  .M. 

This  is  what  the  Oxford  (Ohio)  Tribune  said  the 
other  day  about  one  of  the  little  readers  of  the 
post  office  Box— a  girl  of  whom  the  Postmistress 
is  quit,1  proud  ; 

"  Miss  Laura  Shenkenberger  has  attended 
school  five  years  without  being  absent  a  single 
day.  or  even"  tardy,  she  has  received  some  token 
from  each  of  her  teachers,  showing  their  appre- 
eiai  ion  of  her  promptness." 


pile  with  great  satisfaction.  We  will  announce 
the  names  of  those  whose  lists  are  fullest,  so  soon 
as  you  have  all  had  an  opportunity  to  compete. 


A  great  many  spellers  have  entered  the  lists, 
and  tried  their  skill  in  making  words  from  the 
letters  which  compose  the  word  "Orphanism." 
The  Postmistress  looks  on  the  rapidly  increasing 


i.e. .rgc  and  James  L..  whose  home  is  in  Aram 
I"-  i  a'-lornia.  are  having  what  the  other  boys 
will  think  a  splendid  time  in  the  wood-  i  ;«••  irge 
has  caught  a  beautiful  white  crane,  four  rabliits. 
and  live  rats,  .lames  trapped  a  rat.  but  his  pris- 
oner had  sharp  teeth,  and  speedily  gnawed  his 
way  to  freedom.  These  hoys  are  both  studying 
hard,  and  write  a  clear  business  hand,  very  cred- 
itable to  young  gentlemen  of  ten  and  eleven  years 
I  hope  they  will  write  again. 

BENEDICT  M.— I  am  glad  yon  like  the  stories, 

pn/.y.li's.  and  Idlers  .so  well,  and  shall  exped  lo 
have  your  name  often  among  the  bright-eyed 
and  quick  willed  boys  who  solve  puzzles  and 

unra\  el  t  angles 

M  \\  i:  B.  1  too  think  a  little  girl  very  fortu- 
nate to  lii-  the  cousin  of  Miss  Alcott.  Write 
again  dear,  and  play  witli  your  dolls  as  much  as 
you  please  for  three  or  four  years  to  < 


prz/.i.i-:s  FUO.M  yorxc;  CONTKIBI'TOKS 

No     1 
NI-5IERICAI.    EXIfiMA. 

Composed  of  54  letters.  I  am  a  famous  proverb. 

My  I.  'J'.'.  s.  ii.  3,  li. 5  is  what  all  men  desire. 

M\  ,-i.  is, :,:;  is  a  verb. 

M  v  I-.'.  1 1.  11, ...  -li.  --'I.  i7  is  a  great  city. 

.My  in.  7.  :i.  Hi.  ".-'.  10  is  very  warm. 

M\  s.  ;.  -,'H.  27,  -.".i  improM-s  the  mind. 

My  41.  •;.  I.  .15.  1.  :i  is  a  boy's  name. 

\lv  .-i I.  •„':!.  :is.  :i'.i.  Jv>,  -1  is  a  girl's  name. 

Mv  52,  Hi.  -si.  -'«  is  a  useful  ore. 

My  .' :.  I',',  iii. '.".'.  7.  SI  means  older. 

DANIEL  LINPA. 

No.  •-'. 

SEVEN-LETTER  1HAMOND   CROSS. 

I'PIMT  Left.  I.  A  letter.  2.  A  boy's  nickname. 
.'!.  \  rich  man.  I.  Helaling  to  nebula'.  5.  Sor- 
n>w  or  pain  (i.  A  rod.  7.  A  letter. 

I'ppcr  .tight.— 1.  A  letter.  X.'  A  fondling.  3.  A 
iiuinlier  .  it  sl.-ps.  I.  The  plural  of  a  noun  mean- 
ing to  summon  back.  5.  A  girl's  nickname,  (i. 
cunning.  7.  A  letter. 

Centre.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  To  decay.  3.  A  found- 
er ol  b'otne  1  An.. i  her  founder  of  Rome.  5.  A 
(lower.  6.  A  dainty  mouthful.  7.  A  letter. 

Lower  Hight.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  A  young  dog.  3. 
Peeled.  4  A  mode  of  curing  by  instruments.  5. 
Lords,  nobles.  (',.  The  plural  of  the  abbreviation 
of  a  medical  man.  7.  A  letter. 

Lower  Left.— 1.  A  letter,  a.  A  nig.  3.  Parts  of 
horses  i  A  name  given  to  farms  in  some  locali- 
ties. 5.  A  laugh.  6!  To  observe.  7.  A  letter. 

AL  BERT. 

No.  3. 

AN   EAST   DIAMOND. 

1.  A  letter.  2.  An  animal.  3.  A  boy's  name.  4. 
A  number.  5.  A  letter.  ALF  KAUFMAN. 


No.  4. 

FOUR  VERY   EASY  SQUARES. 

1_1.  Something  slippery.    2.  Something  cold. 
3.  To  permit. 

2.— 1.  To  snatch.    2.  A  kind  of  monkey.    3.  A 
wager. 

3.— 1.  A  low  singing  noise.    2.  Not  young.    3.  A 
poem. 

4.— 1.  A  bolt.    2.  A  single  point.    3.  A  color. 
EDITH  M.  L. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  109. 
No.  1.  Wheeling. 

We.    Glee.    Ilin. 

Franz  Schubert. 

France.    Zebra.    Shut.    Hash.    Hunt. 

No.  2.  FLA  W 

L  A  V  A 
AVER 
W  A  R  Y 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 


William. 


P 

EAR 
PAPER 

R  E   D 
R 


C 

BAA 
C  A  N  D 
ADA 
Y 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Helen  Barnhardt.  A.  0.  B.,  Charles  Schil- 
ling. Dean  K..  William  Matthews.  Caroline  .lane 
I  i,  man,  <  'harles  i;.  .1,-nerson,  Mamie  Hull,  Jessie 
P  "W  II  Eat  "  Marion  McAlvin.  Hallie  Shaw, 
Edith  I  K  ,  IJiioda  Webster.  Maggie  Swan,  (iil- 
bert  Holland  Bachelor. Bennie  Payson, Paul  Van 
Iioren.  Alice  smith.  .1.  P.  T.  R.,  Emma  Wells.  Josie 
Talbot,  and  Jack  Fairweather. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2(1  and  3d  pages  ofcmer.'] 


240 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CARNIVAL-TIME— LITTLE    COLONIALS. 

BONNIE'S  VALENTINE. 

BY  MARGARET  EYTINGE. 

BONNIE  got  a  valentine, 

Gay  in  colors  blue  and  gold, 
But  she  could  not  read  it.  for 

She  is  ouly  four  years  old. 
So  she  listened  while  mamma. 

With  a  smile,  the  verses  read, 
And  until  the  very  cud 

Not  a  single  word  she  said. 

"Dearest  of  dear  little  maids" 

(This  way  ran  the  valentine). 
"With  red  checks  and  flaxen  hair. 

And  brown  eyes  that  brightly  shine. 
Answering  to  many  names — 

'Birdie/  'Darling.'  'Wee  Wild  Hose'— 
You  are  sweeter,  sweeter  far 

Than  the  sweetest  bud  that  grows." 

Then,  with  prettiest  disdain. 

Bonnie  said:  "All  that  before 
I  have  heard  a  fousand  times — 

Yes.  a  fousand  times,  and  more. 
Great  old  valentine,  I  rink" 

(And  her  lip  began  to  curl). 
"Telling  rings  a  girl  lias  known 

Ever  since  she's  been  a  girl!" 


AN  ELEPHANT'S  REVENGE. 

fT^HE  Rev.  Mr.  Watson  gives  a  very  curious  story  in  illustra- 
J_  t.ion  iif  an  elephant's  long  recollection  of  a  wrong  suffered. 
One  of  those  pests  of  society.  "  a  practical  joker,"  visited  a  cara- 
van in  a.  west  of  England  fair  and  tried  his  stupid  tricks  upon 
.•in  elephant  there.  He  h'rst  doled  out  to  it,  one  by  one,  some 
gingerbread  nnts,  and  when  the  grateful  animal  was  thrown 
nil'  its  guard,  lie  suddenly  proffered  it  a  large,  parcel  wrapped  in 


paper.  The  unsuspicious  creature  accepted  and 
swallowed  the  lump,  but  immediately  began  to 
exhibit  signs  of  intense  suffering,  and  snatch- 
ing up  a  bncketjhanded  it  to  the  keeper  for  wa- 
ter. This  being  given  to  it,  it  eagerly  swallowed 
quantities  of  the  fluid. 

"Ha!"  cried  the  delighted  joker,  "I  guess 
those  nuts  were  a  trifle  hot,  old  fellow." 

'•You  had  better  be  off,"  exclaimed  the  keep- 
er, "unless  yon  wish  the  bucket,  at  your  head." 
The  practical  joker  took  the  hint  only  just  in 
time,  for  the  enraged  animal  having  finished  the 
sixth  bucketful,  hurled  the  bucket  after  its  tor- 
mentor with  such  force  that  had  he  lingered  a 
moment  longer  his  life  might  have  been  forfeited. 
The  affair  had  not,  however,  yet  concluded. 
The  following  year  the  show  revisited  the  same 
town,  and  the  foolish  joker,  like  men  of  his  kind, 
unable  to  profit  by  experience,  thought  to  repeat 
his  stupid  trick  on  the  elephant.  He  took  two 
lots  of  nuts  into  the  show  with  him — sweet  nuts 
in  the  one  pocket  and  hot  in  the  other.  The 
elephant  had  not  forgotten  the  trick  played  upon 
him,  and  therefore  accepted  the  cakes  very  cau- 
tiously. 

At  last  the  joker  proffered  a  hot  one  ;  but  no 
sooner  had  the  injured  creature  discovered  its  pungency  than  it 
seized  hold  of  its  persecutor  by  the  coat  tails,  hoisted  him  up  by 
them,  and  held  him  until  they  gave  way,  when  he  fell  to  the 
ground.  The  elephant  now  inspected  the  severed  coat  tails, 
which,  after  he  had  discovered  and  eaten  all  the  sweet  nuts,  he 
tore  to  rags  and  Hung  after  their  discomfited  owner. 


"  THREES." 

BY   JAMES   OTIS. 

AS  many  as  choose  may  play  the  game  of  "threes,"  or  "tierce," 
and  the  more  the  merrier.     With  the  exception  of  two  play- 
ers, the  party  arrange  themselves  in  pairs,  as  shown  in  the  fig- 
ure.    ( )ne  of  the  two  that  re- 
main makes  "threes"  of  one  ^ 
couple,  as  shown  by  the  po-                                               • 
sit  ion  of  No.  1.     The    other                     *.                      • 
player   remains   outside   the                         '•» 
circle,  as  seen  at  No.  2,  and         ""  °                              j^o  j  *•'* 
tries  to  catch  the  outside  boy 

of  the  line.    If  hi' can  do  this,  o       .  • — -• 

and  touch  the  outside  boy,  he 
takes  his  place  in  the  circle, 

and  the  player  just  touched  o 

becomes  outsider.  ?  ''•„ 

The  outermost  boy  of  the 
row  of  three,  therefore,  when 
he  sees  the  outsider,  coming 

his  way,  slips  from  his  place  into  the  middle  of  the  ring,  and  sta- 
tions himself  in  front  of  some  other  pair  at  a  distant  point  in  it, 
thus  making  a  new  "  three,"  to  which  the  outsider  has  to  hasten, 
only,  perhaps,  to  be  disappointed  as  before. 

When  there  are  many  players,  and  the  ring  of  course  large, 
there  should  be  two  or  more  sets  of  threes,  and  thus  the  game 
will  be  made  more  lively. 


'  Ha  !"  says  Tommy,  '•  I  feel 
a  nibble." 


TOMMY'S    FISHING    ADVENTURE. 
And  lie  was  riftht.  Thoiieh  nearly  drowned  he        "  I  knew  there  was  something  on  Unit  line,"  said  Tom. 


would  not  leave  £<>  the  line. 


as  he  ji  airne >•«•,!  liuin 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANl1     LLUSTRATED    , WEEKLY 


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PDBLISHED  r.v    II  A  IM'KK  A:    I'.R<  >TII  KKS.  X,  w  V,,,;K. 


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YE    DANCE    OF    OLDEN    TIME.— [SEE  "THE  MINUET,"  NEXT  PAGE.] 


242 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  MINUET. 

BY  MRS.  M.  E.  SANGSTER. 

"Then  Alys  at  the  spinet  sits  and  warbles 

The  sweet  old  ballads  that  we  ne'er  forget; 
And  Ruth  and  Phyllis  courtesy  to  the  pictures, 
While  Bridget  steps  in  stately  minuet." 

MANY  of  you  have  heard  your  parents  speak  of  some 
stately  personages  of  their  acquaintance  as  belong- 
ing to  ''the  old  school."  If  you  have  observed  the  peo- 
ple thus  described,  you  have  noticed  that  their  manners 
were  fine — what,  indeed,  we  might  call  finished  —  and 
that  they  were  more  ceremonious  in  their  politeness  than 
some  of  the  rest  of  us  are  in  these  busy  nineteenth-century 
days.  The  deep  bows,  the  low  sweeping  courtesies,  and 
the  formal  speech  of  .such  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  very 
beautiful,  and  all  the  more  so  that  "  the  old  school"  seems 
to  be  on  the  decline. 

The  period  to  which  this  polish  was  natural  was  the 
period  of  the  minuet.  That  elegant  and  graceful  dance 
came,  in  the  first  place,  from  Poitou,  in  France;  and  as  tin- 
peasants  danced  it,  the  rustic  belles  in  their  pretty  holiday 
finery,  and  the  beaux  with  their  gay  caps  and  feathers  on, 
it  was  a  quick,  sprightly  dance,  with  little  steps,  whence 
comes  its  name. 

Minuet  is  akin  to  minute,  you  see.  But  in  the  days  of 
Louis  XIV.,  le  Grande  Monarque.  the  simple  country 
dance  was  taken  to  court,  introduced,  in  caprice,  perhaps, 
by  some  lovely  lady  who  had  watched  the  lads  and  lasses 
go  through  its  mazes  at  a  rural  fete.  It  changed  its  char- 
acter when  it  was  adopted  by  the  nobility,  and  became 
grave,  sedate,  and  a  little  solemn — just  as  different  as  possi- 
ble from  the  giddy  waltzes  and  Hying  quicksteps  of  to-day. 
For  two  centuries  it  was  the  drawing-room  dance,  tak- 
ing precedence  of  every  other.  The  time  regulating  its 
movement  consisted  of  two  strains  of  eight  bars  each,  in 
three-crotchet  time. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  have  seen  your  grandmothers  per- 
form the  minuet  011  a  great  occasion — a  birthday,  house- 
warming,  or  Christmas  party.  Yon  have  been  impressed 
with  the  queenlinoss  of  their  bearing,  for  the  minuet  ad- 
mits of  110  familiarity.  The  touching  of  the  finger-tips  was 
all  that  was  considered  a  u-  fait  by  the  gallants  of  Wash- 
ington's day. 

Looking  back  over  our  country's  history,  one  sees  in 
the  pictures  of  the  past,  Governor  John  Hancock  in  scar- 
let coat  and  lace  ruffles,  leading  forth  the  stately  lady, 
his  wife,  Dorothy  Quincy  that  was,  while  she  is  brave  in 
"gloss  of  satin  and  glimmer  of  pearls." 

Washington,  whose  birthday  a  grateful  nation  is  about 
to  celebrate,  and  who  was  as  dignified  in  the  drawing-room 
as  he  was  commanding  on  the  battle-field,  was  accustomed 
to  dance  the  minuet.  Once,  soon  after  his  inauguration 
as  President,  he  was  visiting  at  a  hospitable  mansion  in 
Uxbridge,  Massachusetts,  the  home  of  the  Tafts.  The  two 
pretty  daughters  of  the  house,  Polly  and  Patty,  did  their 
best  to  entertain  General  and  Mrs.  Washington,  and  after 
returning  to  New  York,  which  at  that  time  was  the  nation- 
al capital,  the  great  man  sent  a  present  to  his  little  part- 
ners of  the  evening. 

And  pray  what  do  you  think  it  was  ?  To  Polly  and 
Patty,  whose  "modest  and  innoceut  looks"  had  delighted 
him,  he  gave  each  a  piece  of  chintz  for  a  new  gown;  but 
to  Patty,  whose  name  was  the  same  as  Mrs.  Washington's, 
live  golden  guineas.  ' '  to  buy  any  little  ornaments  she  may 
want,  or  to  spend  in  any  way  she  may  choose."  The  only 
stipulation  affixed  to  the  gift  was  that  Miss  Patty  should 
acknowledge  it  in  a  line  addressed  to  "The  President  of 
the  United  States,  New  York." 

Those  early  days  of  the  republic  were  full  of  sparkling- 
life.  The  dinners,  assemblies,  receptions,  and  balls  were 
on  11  generous  scale.  An  elderly  lady  who  had  been  young 
and  beautiful  when  they  wore  powdered  hair  and  high- 
heeled  slippers,  and  danced  the  minuet,  was  once  heard  to 


give  a  wee  bit  of  a  soft  sigh  when  a  tiresome  guest  had 
departed. 

"Aunty,"  said  a  smiling  niece,  "you  haven't  much  pa- 
tience with  dull  people." 

"Ah,  no,  my  dear,"  was  the  reply;  "  I  have  never  been 
used  to  them." 

Every  age  has  its  peculiar  advantages  and  pleasures, 
and  we  would  be  foolish  if  we  undervalued  our  own. 
We  have  many  luxuries  and  delights  which  they  had  not 
in  sunny  France  when  they  first  danced  the  minuet  at 
Versailles,  and  of  which  the  Livingstons,  Clintons.  Jays. 
and  Madisons  never  dreamed  when  our  dear  country  was 
young.  But  it  would  be  well  for  us  were  we  to  cultivate 
the  courtesy  of  look  and  speech,  the  grace  of  deportment, 
and  the  gentle  dignity  which  distinguished  the  period  when 
the  minuet  was  at  the  height  of  its  popularity. 


MICK'S  VALENTIXK. 

i:V   MARY  D.  BRINE. 

ONL.Y  a  boot-black  was  Micky  JVIagee — 

Hatless  and  coatlcss  and  shoeless  was  lie. 

Twas  little  he  cared  for  a  "Valentine," 

Unless  in  the  form  of  "ten  cents  fur  a  shine." 

He  stood  on  the  corner  one  Valentine's  Day, 

Shouting  "Shine,  sir?"  lo  all  who  were  pas.-ing  his  way; 

But  nobody  heedeil,  and  nobody  cared 

Whether  ill  luck  or  good  luck 'poor  liltle  .Mick  shared. 

Down  the  street,  with  her  mother,  approaching  the  lad, 
fame  a  wee  liltle  maiden  all  daintily  clad. 
Her  hand  clasped  a  flower,  a  lily  as  fail- 
As  the  white  bah)'  brow  'neath  the  soft  golden  hair. 
She  clung  to  her  mother,  the  while  her  blue  eyes 
(Blue  as  the  bluest  of  sunny  June  skies) 
To  Micky  were  lifted,  with"  just  a  slight  trace 
Of  wonder  and  fear  in  the  dear  dainty  face. 

"Poor,  poor  little  boy,  with  no  shoes  on  his  feet, 
And  no  one  to  love  him  :md  make  him  look  neat!'' 
So  whispered  mamma.     Oh,  the  dimples  that  grew 
In  the  soft  rosy  cheeks,  'neath  the  young  eyes  so  blue, 
As  with  sudden  sweet  impulse  the  wee  little  maid 
Her  one  cherished  flower  in  Micky's  hand  laid. 
Then  ran  to  mamma,  hiding  quickly  from  sight. 
Her  heart  beating  fast,  half  in  shyness,  half  fright. 

When  night  came  at  last,  and  St.  Valentine's  Day 
In  the  silence  and  darkness  had  faded  away. 
Ragged  Mick  in  his  shanty  went  sweetly  l<>  rest 
AVith  the  purest  of  Valentines  safe  on  his  breast. 


REG. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  JVN. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

NEARER  and  nearer  toward  the  foot-lights  advanced 
the  Twin  Princes  between  their  escorting  pages  and 
their  imposing  body-guard  of  troops.  Clash,  bang,  rub-a- 
dub-dub!  What  a  terrible  uproar  it  all  made!  and  now 
Reg,  who  had  been  placed  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  line, 
comes  within  full  view  of  the  audience,  as  the  proei  ssion 
sweeps  in  a  grand  half-circle  around  the  stage. 

How  many  people  there  must  be  looking  at  him  !  But 
he  dares  not  remove  his  eyes  from  the  back  of  the  page  in 
front  of  him,  to  the  utter  despair  of  Mr.  Wei  lington  Smith ; 
for  in  spite  of  his  magnificent  costume  and  brilliant  sur- 
roundings Reg  is  as  stiff  as  a  poker,  and  seems  as  melan- 
choly as  if  he  expected  to  have  all  his  teeth  pulled  011  tin- 
spot. 

How  he  managed  to  tread  the  unsteady  steps  leadin-  to 
the  throne  without  stumbling  Reg  scarcely  knows,  but 
when  he  sat  down  in  the  gilded  arm-chair  confronting 
that  immense  sea  of  faces  he  felt  as  if  a  spell  had  been 
cast  over  him  which  made  him  motionless  with  terror. 

"Ah,  the  little  rascal's  doing  better  now."  muttered 
Mr.  Smith,  as  from  his  post  of  observation  in  the  wings  he 


KKHWAKY   I!",  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


243 


noted  the  fixed,  apparently  scornful,  expression  011  Prince 
Buda  way's  countenance. 

Mi 'an  while  the  dialogue  among1  the  regular  actors  went 
on  around  him.  interrupted  every  now  and  then  by  out 
hill-sis  of  applause  from  the  audience1.  I!ilt  still  Key  sat 
there  with  a  look  ill  his  hllle  eyes  that  seemed  to  pierce 
beyond  the  last  seat  in  the  yallery.  and  see  Aunt  Susan 
wringing  her  hands  in  despair  as  she  wandered  ii]i  and 
down  the  streets  of  the  great  citj  in  seai-ch  of  her  nephew: 
then  there  appeared  to  sound  m  his  ears  the  click,  click  of 

the  ocean  cable  as  it  carried  to  papa  and  mamma  far  across 
the  sea  the  lerrihle  tidings  that  their  little  hoy  was  lost. 

Knh  a  dull  dull,  haiiy.  clash,  hang! 

"(  'oome  along;   si  Hire  an'  w  hat's  I  lie  mailer  w  id  ye/ 
whispered  Hilly,  as  lie  gave  Item's  arm  a  pinch. 

At  this  Prince  l!ndawa\  actually  so  far  foryot  his  royal 
dignity  as  to  ml)  his  eyes  with  his  list,  as  if  he  had  just 
waked  up. 

"By  all  the  \\hitc  mice  if  lie  isn't  sleepin'  ayain1."  ex- 
claimed Dan  llanderhry,  as  he  watched  the  action  from  he 

llilld    one  of    t  lie  skeleti  HIS. 

IJiil    Key  was  not  asleep;   he  was  only  very,  very   tired. 
His  brain  had  never  before  been  so  overcharged  \\ilh  ex 
eitement;   the  noise  of  the  drums  and  the  ylare  of  I! 
liyht  da/.ed  him  :   so  w  hen   Hilly  nndyed  him  lie  started  up 
suddenly,   then    fell    forward   in   a   dead    faint,  and    rolled 

down  the  steps  to  the  fool  of  the  throne,  where  he  lay  quite 

still,  with  his  white  lace  turned  toward  I  he  audience,  who 
applauded  loudly,  under  the  impression  that  il  was  all  in 
I  he  pla\  . 

Fortunately  the  act  was  almost  over,  so  the  curtain 
Was  run";  quickly  down,  and  Mr.  \Ve|  linyton  Smith,  with 
the  assistance  of  Madame  York,  hastened  forward  to  bring' 
I 'mice  I'.udaway  back  lo  consciousness. 

"  1  guess  he  wasn't  hurt  by  his  tumble,"  remarked  the 
manager,  as  lie  chafed  the  cold  little  hands;  "but  it's 
lucky  he's  mil  on  in  the  next  ad." 

I  tee-  presently  (.pencil  his  eyes,  and   living  them  ..n   Mr 
Smith,  asked,  in    a    broken    voice,   "Have    \  on      have   yon 
scut  for  Aunt  Susan  ;" 

"Yes,  yes;  that  is,  I've  put  an  advertisement  in  to- 
morrow's paper  that  'II  tell  her  \\  here  lo  I i nd  you." 

"Thank  you.  sir;  I'm  better  now,"  relumed  Keg.  and 
he  was  soon  able  to  yd  up  and  walk  to  a  (pliel  corner  of 
the  WingS.  Here  he  reclined  on  a  pile  of  ell  si  i  io|  IS.  \\  bile 
Hilly  Tinburn  iusiriided  him  in  his  duties  for  the  third 
act.  which  began  about  half  an  hour  later,  and  in  which 
the  Twin  Princes  were  to  appear  in  a  gilded  car  drawn  by 
an  old  blind  horse. 

This  was  the  famous  battle  scene,  and  after  the  I  io\  s 
had  been  driven  twice  around  the  si  a  ye  in  their  chariot, 
the  vehicle  was  hauled  to  one  side,  so  that  only  the  hod\ 
of  il  showed,  and  the  horse  detached,  lest  the  noise  of  the 
liring  should  frighten  him  into  long-forgotten  liveliness. 
The  shafts  of  the  cart  were  propped  np  with  an  old  barrel. 
the  two  Princes  were  seen  to  peer  anxiously  forth,  and 
then  the  battle  which  was  to  decide  the  fate  of  their  king- 
dom began. 

Deafening  reports,  flashes  of  lire,  clouds  of  smoke,  the 
creeping  up  of  the  foe.  the  dropping  of  the  dead,  the  cries 
of  the  wounded — all  this  turned  the  staye  into  a  perfect 
Bedlam  for  the  time  being,  in  tin:  midst  of  which  Reg 
and  Billy  trembled  in  spite  of  themselves.  The  specta- 
tors stamped  and  cheered  to  testify  their  delight  at  the 
realistic  representation,  the  band  played  furiously,  and 
the  victory  was  almost  won,  when  with  a.  piercing  scream 
a  woman  burst  through  the  battling  ranks,  and  throwing 
her  arms  about  Prince  Budaway,  cried  aloud  (although 
of  course  nobody  could  hear  her).  "Oh.  Reginald,  and  I 
lind  you  here!" 

II  was  Aunt  Susan. 

The  confusion  of  the  light,  was  so  great  and  the  smoke 
so  dense,  that  Miss  Brax's  sudden  appearance  on  the  scene 


did  not  much  affect  the  play,  and  as  the  curtain  fell  on  Reg 

leaniny  oiil  of  the  chariot  with  his  arms  around  her  neck. 
it  formed  quite  a  pretty  tableau  for  those  who  could  see  it. 

"  No.  sir-ee."  asserted  l>an  l>auderbry.  when  Mr.  Smith 
took  him  to  task  for  allowing  an  outsider  on  the  slaye, 
"I  don'l  believe  even  a  t  rue-  t'or-a  -fact  light  would  'a 
stopped  her." 

"But  I  wonder  how  she  came  to  know  so  soon  that  her 
nephew  was  here  .'"  muttered  tin1  manager  to  himself,  as 
he  approached  the  reunited  pair,  whom  Billy  Tinburn 
was  eviiiy  as  if  they  had  both  fallen  from  the  sky. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Aunt  Susan,  when  Hey  had  duly  pre- 
sented Mr.  Wellington  Smith.  "1  don't  know  whether  1 
ought  to  thank  you  or  not  for  what  you've  done  for  this 
boy.  To  be  sure.  \  on  took  him  in  from  the  street,  but 
then  you  made  a  pla\  actor  of  him  ;  and  when  his  mother 
hears  that  her  son  has  been  seen  on  the  stage  of  a — 

Hen-  Mis-,  |'.ra\  paused,  with  a  sudden  recollection  of  the 

fact  that  she  had  just   trod  the  hoards  herself. 

"Hut.  madam,"  urged  Mr.  Smith,  persuasively,  "there 
is  still  one  more  act  to  lie  yl veil,  and  if  you  take  your  ne- 
phew away  with  yoi w  ,  you  will  greatly  inconvenience1 

us.       Remember  that  1  made  a  verbal  contract  with  Reyi 
nald  here,  lo  the  ell'ect.  (hat.  in  consideration  of  my  endea- 
vors to  restore  him  lo  yon.  he  would  play  the  part  of  Prince 
Bndaw  a  v  for  one  niybt  ai  least.     Is  not  that  so,  Reginald;" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Miss  Hrax  looked  thoughtful.  She  had  never  ap- 
proved of  1  heat  res;  indeed,  until  that  eveniny,  she  bad 
never  even  seen  one;  but  I  hen  she  was  a  woman  of  very 
Strict  business  principles,  and  a  yreal  lover  of  justice. 

"Well^  sir,"  she  answered,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 

"since   yon   put   mailers   in  that,   light,  we  will  leave  it   to 

thebo\  himself.  Reginald,  do  you  think  thai  if  I  permit 
yon  to  make  a  show  of  yourself  for  twenty  minutes  lony- 
i T.  \  oil  will  he  sei/.ed  with  a  desire  to  adopt  this  vain  life, 

and  always  wear  these  gaudj  clothes?" 

"No.  no."  cried  lieu;  "I  never  want  to  be  a  Prince 
again:  but  if  you  think  1  ought,  I  don't  mind  being  rowed 
across  the  staye  in  a  boat  with  Hilly;  and  then,  yon 
know.  Mr.  Smith  was  very  good  to  lind  you  for  me." 

At   thai  instani  the  stage-manager  clapped  his  hands. 

and  the  curtain  rose  on  the  final  act  of  Tin'  Tirin  1'riin-i's. 
duriny  which  Aunt  Susan  sal  in  slate  in  a  private  box  ;  and 
as  she  watched  Key's  jerky  progress  across  the  canvas  seas 
she  discovered  that  she  really  loved  the  boy  with  all  lid- 
heart. 

Mr.  Smith  came  for  her  as  soon  as  Reg  had  put  off 
his  plumes  and  paint  forever,  and  as  she  took  her  nephew 
by  the  hand  she  made  the  manager  a  queer  little  how, 
with  the  remark,  "We  are  even  now."  Then  she  gave 
her  skirls  the  slightest  possible  shake  to  express  ill  what 
esteem  she  held  the  dust  of  the  t  heatre,  after  which  she 
walked  out.  holdiny  Key  by  the  hand.  They  went  across 
the  street  to  a  hotel,  where  her  fortitude  deserted  her  at  last, 
leaving  her  to  laugh  and  cry  over  the  boy  for  half  an  hour. 

"But  how  did  yon  lind  me  so  quick.  Aunt  Susan  ;''  in- 
quired Reg  the  next  inorniny  at  breakfast.  Then  he 
learned  how  poor  Miss  Hrax  had  been  driven  nearly  fran- 
tic with  terror  when  she  found  that  he  had  been  carried 
off  in  the  cars,  and  how  she  had  follow  ed  in  the  next  train 
to  the  station  below,  then  hurried  on  to  the  end  of  the 
road,  whence  she  had  returned  to  the  Grand  Central  Depot, 
down-town  again  to  the  ferry,  afterward  to  the  police  sta- 
tion, and  finally  to  a  newspaper  office,  where  she  was  about 
to  advertise  for  the  missing  boy,  when  the  clerk  read  to 
her  a  counter-advertisement  of  the  same  character  that  he 
had  just  received,  upon  which  she  had  hastened  with  all 
speed  to  the  theatre. 

"And  I  am  that  wore  out,  Reginald,''  she  concluded, 
"that  I  have  telegraphed  Cousin  Sarah  to  hire  a  nurse 
and  charge  her  wages  to  me,  so  we  can  go  straight  back 
to  Broadfarms,"  which  they  did  that  very  morning. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MR.  SMITH    AND    MADAME    YORK    RESTORING    REG    TO    CONSCIOUSNESS. 


And  what  a  story  Reg  had  to  tell  Phil  Fairlock!  The 
latter  listened  almost  with  open  mouth,  and  looked  very 
grave  when  the  late  Prince  Budaway  finished  with  these 
words : 

"I  wouldn't  be  in  Billy  Tiiiburn's  place,  no,. not  if  he 
got  fifty  cents  a  night,  for  I  tell  you,  Phil,  you  and  I  can 
have  more  fun  up  here  in  Broadfarms  than  a  hundred 
Twin  Princes  in  all  the  theatres  in  New  York." 


OH,  A7ic ! 
fectly  s 


VIC  VINTON'S  VALENTINE. 

BY  AGNES  CARR. 

have  you  heard  the  news?  Isn't  it  per- 
splendid?"  burst  from  a  chorus  of  girls  clus- 
tered about  the  school -room  register  on  a  cold  frosty 
morning  early  in  February,  as  a  bright -eyed,  golden- 
haired  maiden  entered  and  joined  the  group. 

"No;  what  is  it?"  asked  the  new-comer,  drawing  off 
her  gloves,  and  endeavoring  to  warm  her  hands. 


"Why,  Maidie  Seymour 
is  to  give  a  Valentine  par- 
ty on  the  14th,  and  every 
one  of  our  class  is  to  be 
invited,"  explained  Clara 
Townley. 

"And  there  is  to  be  a 
letter-box,  through  which 
we  are  to  send  valentines 
to  each  other,"  continued 
Bella  Osgood,  "and  Mai- 
die's  little  brother  Fred, 
dressed  as  Cupid,  is  to  dis- 
tribute them.  Isn't  it  a 
pretty  idea?" 

"  Lovely  !"  responded 
Vic;  "but  Maidie  ought  to 
have  let  us  known  sooner, 
so  we  could  have  saved  up 
our  pocket-money." 

"  Oh,  you  always  have 
plenty,  and  can  favor  us 
all,"  laughed  Nellie  Frost, 
twining  her  arm  around 
her  friend's  waist. 

"  Don't  be  so  sure,"  said 
Vic.  "  I  have  drawn  pret- 
ty heavily  on  my  month's 
allowance  already,  and  fa- 
ther always  objects  to  ad- 
vancing me  any  money. 
He  says  I  will  never  learn 
the  value  of  it  if  he  does. 
But  there  goes  the  bell,  and 
I  haven't  learned  a  word 
of  my  French  yet."  As 
the  gong  sounded,  the  girls 
dispersed  to  their  respective 
seats,  but  little  was  thought 
or  talked  of  during  the  en- 
suing week  except  the  com- 
ing entertainment  and  the 
dainty  missives  to  be  sent 
on  the  occasion. 

Every  school  has  its 
belle,  or  leading  girl,  and  at 
Madame  Berger's  Vic  Vin- 
tonwas  certainly  that  one. 
Handsome,  brilliant,  and 
withal  kind  -  hearted  and 
generous  to  a  fault,  few 
could  help  loving  her,  and 

with  both  teachers  and  scholars  she  was  a  general  favor- 
ite, while  a  certain  royal  manner  of  her  own  had  won  for 
her  the  title  of  "  Queen  Vic"  amongst  her  school-mates. 

But  perhaps  her  most  ardent  admirer  was  one  quite 
unknown  to  herself — a  little  demure  lassie,  the  poorest 
and  plainest  of  the  class,  to  whom  she  had  scarcely  spo- 
ken a  dozen  words  throughout  the  year,  and  of  whom  she 
rarely  thought.  Milly  Melville  looked  upon  Vic  Vintoii 
as  her  ideal  of  every  beauty  and  grace,  although  she  nev- 
er ventured  to  do  more  than  gaze  and  admire  her  from 
a  distance,  being  much  too  timid  and  reserved  to  mingle 
and  make  many  friends  amongst  the  girls.  So  she  was 
only  known  in  the  school  as  "Milly  the  book-worm"  (for 
she  was  very  studious),  and  at  recess  she  was  left  alone 
and  unheeded  in  her  distant  corner. 

In  due  time  the  invitations  were  issued,  and  on  Valen- 
tine's Eve,  Vic,  warmly  wrapped  up,  for  it  was  bitter  cold, 
wended  her  way  down-town  in  quest  of  the  fancy  missives 
for  her  mates,  to  be  distributed  by  Cupid  on  the  following 
evening.  As  she  walked  briskly  along,  her  busy  brain 
was  calculating  how  far  the  five  dollars  in  her  purse 


FEBRUARY  20,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PF.ol'I.K. 


245 


would  j-ii.  for  having  always  taken  the  lead,  she  felt  some 
pride  about  having  hei-  gifts  as  handsome  as  any  that 
would  In- si-iit ;  and  Maidie,  she  knew,  had  invited  a  large 

ininiber  of  fi-iends  to  do  honor  to  St.  Valentine. 

So  en-jrosM,l  was  she  in  her  o\\n  thoughts  tliat  she  al- 
ui'  i- 1  ran  into  another  girl,  who  was  com  MIL'  up  the  stn  et, 
and  was  only  roused  by  a  timid  "Kxcuse  me.  Miss  Vin- 
toll." 

"  \Vliy.  Milly.  is  that  yon  :"  exclaimed  \"ie.  ''I  think 
I  .-un  tin-  one  to  apologize.  M\  In  ad  was  so  full  of  valen 

tines  I  did  not  see  where  I  was  going.  Von  will  he  at 
the  party  tomorrow  night,  of  course  :" 

"No,  I  think  not."  said  MiiK.  mournfully,  while  tin- 
tears  stai-|i-d  to  her  eyes.  "  1  Q6VI  r  go  to  such  places." 

"Bill  why  not  .'"  asked  Vie.  impulsively.  "  .Manlie  ex- 
pects all  her  class.  1  know."  And  then  as  Milly  Mushed 
and  hesitated  —  "But  pardon  me.  perhaps  \oii  do  not  care 
lo  l.-l  I  \  our  reason." 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you."  stammered  Milly;  "but  I 
rea  1 1  \  have  nothing  to  w  ea  r 

"  Like  Miss  Flora  McKlnnsey.  of  Madison  S<[iiai-e." 
laughed  Vic. 

"  No.  not  like  her.  for  this  i-  truly  the  very  hest  dress  I 
own:"  and  Milly  glanced  IV. .111  her  rather  shabby  black 
cashmere  to  Vic's  sty lish  \\intersiiit. 

"  Why,  how  is  that  .'     Come,  walk  down  the  street,  and 
tell   me  about    it;"    ami    urged  on    hy    Vic's    sympathizing 
manner.  Milly  ovei-came   her  reserve,  and  told  her  of  the 
strict   economv    her  widowed   mother  was  obliged  to  prae 
tice  to  send   In  r  to  Madame   Herders  school,  and  how  im- 
possihle  il    woiilil  he  for  her  to  procure  a  dress  SUltab 
an   i  -veiling  party.       "  1   am  being  tilted  for  a  teacher.  \  oil 
know,"  she  Sighed,  al  the  end  ;  "but    I   never  shall  li- 


"  What  do  you  fancy  .'"  asked  Vic. 

"  Oh.  painting  above  all  things  !  The  dream  of  my  life 
is  to  Study  art;  and  I  particularly  wished  to  go  to  this 
company  to  sec  Mr.  Se\iin>ur's  pictures,  of  which  I  hear 
he  has  a  line  collection." 

"Yes,"  said  Vic,  "and  Maidie's  artist  uncle  is  to  be 
there.  Who  knows,  perhaps  you  may  go  yet;  anyway, 
promise  me  that  \  oil  will  not  send  your  regret  before  to- 


"No,  1  will  put  it  oil'  as  long  as  possible,  but  it  will 
be  of  110  use.  This  poor  Cinderella  has  no  fairy  god- 
mother." 

"  But  perhaps  Si.  Valentine  may  take  pity  on  you."  said 
Vie.  "(  i  ood-  by,  and  1  sha  1  1  come  and  see  yon  very  soon." 

"(ioodby;"  and  with  a  lighter  heart  than  she  had 
known  for  weeks.  Milly  turned  down  a  side  street  toward 
her  modest  home. 

"I    never   would    ha\e    believed,  mother,  that   I   could 

1  1  Led  s,P  f  reel  \  toaii\  one,"  she  remarked  that  night, 
"and  to  Victoria  Vinton.  of  all  persons!  Hut  she  is  even 
more  charming  than  I  imagined,  and  distance  did  not  lend 

a  pa  r!  icle  of  enchant  nn-iit." 

And  the  mother  smiled  \\ith  pleasure  at  her  quiet 
daughter's  unusual  enthusiasm. 

And  while  Milly  was  thinking  about  Vic,  Vic  was  think- 
ing about  Milly.  "  I'oor  Milly  !  I  had  no  idea  she  was  so 
poor:  but  then  1  am  afraid  1  never  thought  much  about 
her,"  said  Vie  to  herself,  as  she  came  to  a  pause  before  a 
ua\l\  decked  window  fi-slooiied  with  valelil  ines  of  every 
Inn-  and  description.  "  I  will  send  her  the  embroidered 
muslin  ('oiisin  Charlotte  gave  me,  anil  which  will  just 
about  lit  her;  but  what  use  will  il  be  witjiout  the  'chicken 
lixinijs.'  as  brother  Tom  calls  them 


THE    GIRLS    ADMIRING   MILLY'S    COSTUME. 


24:6 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


YOU'ME   IV. 


Vic  thought  a  moment  longer.  Then  she  announced, 
as  though  she  were  speaking  to  some  one:  "So.  my  dear 
friends,  I  fear  you  will  have  to  dispense  with  any  love 
tokens  from  me,  for  hearts  and  darts,  although  very  tempt- 
ing, must  give  way  to  gloves  and  flowers.''  And  turning 
resolutely  from  the  stationer's  dazzling  display,  she  hur- 
ried across  to  a  dry-goods  establishment  across  the  way. 

"A  messenger  boy  just  left  this  valentine  at  the  door 
for  you,  Milly,"  said  Mrs.  Melville,  early  the  next  morning, 
as  she  entered  the  tidy  little  parlor  where  her  daughter- 
was  bending  over  her  painting  table. 

"For  me  !  Who  in  the  world  would  send  me  a  valen- 
tine ?"  And  Milly  glanced  inquiringly  from  her  mother's 
face  to  the  large  box  she  carried  in  her  hand.  But  the 
brown  orbs  opened  still  wider  when  the  lid  was  lifted,  dis- 
playing the  snowy  skirts  with  their  delicate  embroidery, 
the  dainty  gloves  and  slippers,  and  the  cluster  of  crushed 
rose-buds,  so  natural  that  Milly  uttered  a  scream  of  de- 
lighted astonishment  as  they  were  drawn  forth. 

"This  is  Vic  Vinton's  work,  I  am  sure,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Oh,  how  grand  she  is !  just  like  her  royal  name !"  And 
her  mother  nodded  a  glad  assent. 

Neither  Vic  nor  Milly  appeared  at  school  that  day,  but 
each  member  present  of  the  first  class  was  surprised  to  re- 
ceive a  tiny  note  containing  these  words: 

''I  have  decided  to  send  no  valentines  to-night,  so 
please,  do  not  put  me  in  debt  if  you  love 

"  Your  friend  and  school-mate,  Vic." 

"What  new  whim  is  this  the  Queen  has  taken  up?" 
asked  Nelly  Frost.  No  one  could  answer  her. 

Mr.  Seymour's  brilliantly  lighted  house  was  a  vision  of 
youth  and  happiness  on  that  St.  Valentine's  evening,  and 
graceful  little  Maidie,  dressed  ill  pure  while  with  knots  of 
true-blue  ribbon,  welcomed  her  guests  with  easy  courtesy. 

Vic  was  radiant.  But  of  all  the  girls  that  flocked  the 
spacious  dressing-room  none  was  so  great  a  surprise  as 
Milly  Melville. 

"I  had  no  idea  she  could  look  so  pretty,"  exclaimed 
Clara  Townley. 

"Yes,  the  little  brown  grub  has  come  out  quite  a  gor- 
geous butterfly,"  said  Bella  Osgood. 

Vic,  meanwhile,  was  being  plied  with  questions,  which 
she  parried  for  some  time  with  considerable  skill,  as  to  her 
new  notion  of  neglecting  her  friends,  some  of  whom  were 
inclined  to  be  a  little  indignant.  They  pressed  her  so 
hard  that  at  length  she  was  forced  to  confess. 

"  Well,  girls,  the  truth  is,  I  did  send  one  valentine,  but 
it  was  too  large  to  go  in  the  letter-box,  so  I  dispatched  it  a 
little  ahead  of  time." 

"And  I  am  that  valentine,"  said  Milly.  who  had  stolen 
softly  up  behind.  Then  in  a  few  words  she.  told  of  the  gift 
she  had  received. 

"  Three  cheers  for  Queen  Vic !"  cried  all  the  girls. 

''  I  did  not  mean  them  to  know,"  said  Vic. 

"But  1  am  very  glad  they  do,"  said  Milly;  and  taking 
her  friend's  arm,  they  descended  to  the  parlor  together. 

Vic  was  now  a  greater  favorite  than  ever,  while  Milly 
that  evening  appeared  so  bright  and  merry,  her  school- 
mates all  agreed  that  they  had  never  half  appreciated  her 
before. 

Swiftly  and  gayly  the  hours  sped  by.  and  when  the 
tiny  curly-hcadi'd  Oupid  spread  his  silver  wings  and  flut- 
tered about  the  room  with  his  tender  missives,  none-  could 
equal  an  exquisite  little  picture  painted  by  Milly  and  pre- 
sented to  her  "  dear  friend  Queen  Vic." 

Mr.  Seymour,  the  artist,  was  in  raptures  over  it,  and 
next  day,  having  heard  Milly's  story  from  his  niece  Mai- 
die,  paid  Mrs.  Melville  a  friendly  call.  The  result  was  a 
.great  joy  to  Milly,  for  through  his  influence  she  secured  a 
good  price  for  all  the  cards  and  pictures  she  could  paint. 


and  in  time  the  demand  for  them  came  to  be  so  great  that 
she  was  finally  enabled  to  abandon  the  distasteful  idea  of 
becoming  a  teacher,  and  realize  her  dream  of  studying1  art. 
Her  first  prize  was  won  '011  a  portrait  of  her  dearest 
friend;  and  when  any  one  asks  who  it  is.  she  tells  them, 
with  grateful  tears  filling  her  eyes,  the  story  of  Vic  Vin- 
toii's  Valentine. 


"  norsEi;." 

I!Y  L.  A.  B.  fTRTIS. 

E  never  knew  where  he  came  from  :   but  one  frosty 
morning  when  we  went  out  to  the  diggings  there 
he  sat,  dejected  and  forlorn,  beside  Doc  Furber's  rocker. 

"  What  have  I  done?"  exclaimed  Doc,  striking  a  tragic 
attitude. 

There  was  a  shout  of  laughter,  for  certainly  no  one  had 
ever  seen  an  uglier  dog.  Snub-nosed,  crop-eared,  one  eye 
white  and  the  other  yellow,  his  fleshless  skeleton  covered 
with  a  coarse  yellow  coat — there  he  sat,  statue-like,  with- 
out taking  the  least  notice  of  us,  neither  raising  his  eyes 
nor  wagging  his  tail.  Indeed,  the  poor  brute  had  no  tail 
to  wag.  And  in  addition  to  his  long  list  of  misfortunes, 
he  seemed  to  have  been  badly  wounded  in  some  recent 
conflict,  for  his  wounds  were  still  bleeding. 

"  Lend  me  your  revolver,"  said  Charley  Hines  to  Frit/. 
Muller. 

"No.''  said  Dutch  Fritz,  "don't  vaste  powder.  I  lays 
him  out  mil  dis  rock." 

Davy  Blake  caught  up  a  shovel,  and  would  soon  have 
ended  the  dog's  career,  if  Hank  Howley  had  not  interfered. 
to  the  surprise  of  all. 

In  all  the  three  months  we  had  picked  and  shovelled 
and  rocked  and  panned  together  in  the  Sky  High  claim, 
no  one  had  ever  discovered  any  softness  in  Hank  Howley. 

WTe  had  come  together,  a  party  of  five,  from  different 
parts  of  the  world,  and  formed  a  partnership  to  work  out 
a  rich  mountain  claim  in  the  Sierras. 

We  had  been  strangers  to  each  other  when  we  consoli- 
dated our  claims  into  a  partnership,  for  purposes  of  econ- 
omy in  labor  and  living.  But  we  soon  became  acquainted, 
and  we  were  speedily  in  possession  of  all  the  early  "  his- 
tory" desirable  with  regard  to  each  other,  except  that  of 
Hank  Howley;  he  never  talked  about  himself,  and  seem- 
ed to  resent  any  curiosity  concerning  his  personal  affairs. 
He  was  rough,  reserved,  and  somewhat  surly;  but  he  was 
always  ready  to  take  upon  himself  the  hardest  and  most 
unpleasant  tasks.  His  giant  frame  ami  iron  muscles 
seemed  made  for  hard  work  and  endurance. 

The  laugh  went  round  as  Hank  went  up  to  the  ugly 
brute,  patted  his  head,  and  examined  his  wounds  in  what 
seemed  to  be  a  professional  manner. 

The  dog  preserved  the  utmost  indifference  while  his 
case  was  discussed,  never  appearing  conscious  of  a  human 
presence.  But  when  Hank's  examination  was  ended  he 
licked  his  hand  in  a  gentle,  melancholy  way,  and  then  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  cabin.  The  cruel  wound's  were  dressed, 
and  the  poor  waif  was  sumptuously  regaled  with  some 
bacon  rind  and  three  generous  flapjacks  left  from  the 
morning  meal. 

(  >ld  Butte,  the  camp  dog.  greeted  the  new-comer  with 
a.  vindictive  growl;  but  Hank  bade  him    "get   out!"   so 
fiercely  that  Butie  ret  ivated  from  the  cabin,  and  the  st  ran 
ger  took  his  place  by  Hie  camp  fire. 

The  more  the  miners  and  Butte  abused  the  new  doir. 
the  more  Hank  petted  him.  He  let  him  sleep  at  his  feet, 
in  his  bunk,  and  fed  him  from  his  own  tin  plate. 

One  Saturday  night  the  air  was  more  piercing  than  usual. 
and  Hank  Howley  indulged  in  considerable  grumbling  al 
himself  for  leaving  his  coat  at  the  head  dam.  a  mile  dis- 
tant, where  we  had  all  been  working.  He  was  silting  on 
a  bench  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  and  smoking  a  home-made 
manzanita  pipe,  when  Fritz  exclaimed, 


FEBUfARY  20,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•24  T 


"  Hank,  vere's  de  dog  ?" 

"He  hasn't  been  in  for  supper."  suggested  Doc. 

"Base,  ungrateful  pup!"  said  Charley. 

•'Von'vc  seen  the  last  of  your  coyote,  Hank.  I  told 
you  so."  added  Davy. 

"  He  \\as  a  cur  of  low  degree,"  resui 1  ( 'barley.  "  A 

high  toned  dog  like  Butte  would  never  go  baek  oil  his 
friends  in  tliat  manner.  Eh.  Butte  (" 

"Don't  you  worry  yourself  about  that  dog,"  growled 
Hank.  "He  ain't  your  dog.  I'll  bet  four  l)its  lie's  all 
right." 

No  one   took  the  bet. 

Presently  Andy  Alice  offered  to  sell  Hank  a  fine  fox- 
hound. 

"I've  no  use  for  him."  Hank  replied.  "I've  got  the 
best  dog  iii  the  Sierras,  and  maybe  you'll  liml  it  out  if  you 
live  lonir  enough." 

We  di.l. 

All  day  Sunday  no  puy-nosed  do<_r-  appeared,  and  all  day 
a  runu'mir  lire  of  jest  and  comment  was  kept  up  about  the 
vagrant.  The  neighboring  miners,  as  they  dropped  in  to 
smoke  and  chat  by  our  lire,  never  failed  to  say.  "  \\'h\. 
I  lank,  where's  \our  dog?"  until  at  last  Hank's  temper. 

nr\ er  ' if  i  IM-  best,  fairl \  gave  out. 

(  In  Monday  morning,  when  we  went  back  to  work  at  the 
dam.  tin-re  was  the  do-_r  I'ait  hl'ul  1;  \\  at  eh  ing  Hank's  coal 

All  thi-iuiu-h  those  bitter  nights  lie  had  u. iti-lied  by  it, 
without  food  or  shelter,  not  even  hinydouu  upon  it  fur 
Warmth.  lie  uas  shaking  as  uithan  ague  lit;  but  tin- 
look  lie  gave  1  lank  seemeil  to  say,  "  I  can  not  do  much  for 
you,  but  I  ha\  e  kept  your  COat  Safe,  my  friend." 

"Didn't    I  tell  you  SO?"   said  Hank,  proudly. 

Public  sen  I  inn  'lit  instantly  turned  in  the  doer's  favor,  as 
we  Leathered  around  him.  and  showered  upon  him  such 
terms  as  "<  iood  dog!"  "  Nice  pup  !"  "  Poor  fel|o\\  ' 

"  \Vliy.  he's  a  roiiser  of  a  dog.  after  all  !"  said  hoc.  <_riv 
IIILJ  him  the  biscuit  lie  had  brought  for  his  own  luncheon. 

He  uas  christened  "  Rouser"  on  the  spot,  and  from  that 
time  he  was  the  prime  favorite  of  t lie  camp  Kven  P.utte's 
sellish  heart  warmed  toward  him.  and  many  a  merr\  tils 
sle  they  had  toy-ether. 

That  same  day  it  heyaii  to  snow.  It  snowed  and  it 
snoued.  \Ve  gathered  up  rockc-rs.  shovels,  and  pans 
Tin-  snow  covered  the  bowlders;  then  it  buried  the  chap 
arral  and  maii/anita  bushes;  then  all  the  miners'  cabins; 
and  still  it  came  down.  It  nearly  lilled  the  valley  full. 

There  were  eight  or  ten  millers'  cabins  in  the  vicim!  \  . 
their  locality  being  indicated  by  one  or  two  holes  in  the 
snow,  a  ud  marked  by  stakes  bearing  inscriptions  like  these: 

"Twenty  feel  to  Hilly  Brooke's  ( 'abin."  "('abin  of  the 
Merry  Miners,  three  yards  below."  "Doc  Kurher.  Hank 
Howley,  &  Co.,  twenty -five  feet."  "(irand  Hotel:  Beans 

and  Bacon  at  all  hours;  two  rods." 

We  kept  tin-  lire  roaring,  read  the  old  papers  over  and 
over,  went  out  and  shot  game  now  and  then,  had  games 
of  rough  and  tumble  and  snowballing,  told  stories,  and 
smoked  our  pipes  under  the  snow  as  cheerfully  as  the 
greasy  Esquimaux. 

A  hole  in  the  snow  lot  ill  the  light  !o  a  hole  in  our  cab- 
in, and  at  this  window  Butte  or  Rouse r  invariably  took 
bis  station  at  meal-time;  it  was  not  large  enough  for 
both  at  once.  Our  table  was  under  this  window,  and  ref- 
use bits  of  bread  and  bacon  were  tossed  to  the  lucky  dog- 
in  the  window.  Butte,  being  of  a  la/.y  turn,  could  wait 
more  patiently,  so  he  usually  took  his  station  at  the  win- 
dow as  soon  as  the  savory  fumes  of  frying  bacon  ascend- 
ed to  the  upper  air.  Rouser  would  come  to  the  hole  and 
bark  .savagely,  but  he  could  not  frighten  Butte  away. 
At  last  Rouser  resorted  to  artifice.  One  dinner-time  he 
rushed  into  a  little  clump  of  pines  harking  furiously,  as 
if  he  had  found  some  choice  game.  Butte  could  not 
withstand  this,  so  he  came  out  of  his  window  to  join  in 
the  fun,  and  artful  Rouser  quietly  slipped  into  his  place. 


Day  after  day  Rouser  continued  to  play  this  trick  on  poor 
Butte.  and  always  with  the  same  success. 

But  this  same  little  window  was  a  source  of  sorrow  to 
Camp  Square  Comfort  as  we  called  our  quarters.  ( >ne 
day  we  all  went  out  hunting,  and  forgot  to  shut  the  win- 
dow. When  we  returned,  we  found  that  the  coyotes  had 
carried  oil'  all  our  bacon.  This  was  a  serious  loss.  \Ye 
could  borrow  a  little,  of  course,  but  it  uas  necessary  for 
some  one  to  yo  to  the  nearest  trading  post  for  a  fresh  sup- 
pi).  Hank  Howley  volunteered  to  perform  the  mission, 
and  as  he  uas  the  strongest  of  the  party,  and  more  used 
to  travelling  on  snowshoes.be  seemed  best  lilted  for  the 
service.  It  was  about  forty  miles  to  the  trading  post,  but 
Hank  was  sure  he  could  make  the  trip  in  three  da  vs.  or 
four  at  farthest. 

"  You  better  lie  up  Rouser  until  I  am  well  on  the 
waj  ,"  In-  said.  Then  lie  started. 

Rouser  was  greatly  dejected.  He  whined  and  howled 
and  cried  all  da  \ .  the  tears  running  down  his  face  and 
dropping  on  the  tloor.  At  night  we  untied  him,  but  his 
spirits  did  not  appear  to  improve.  (In  the  third  night 
Hank  had  not  returned,  but  h'onser  uas  gone.  \\'e  did 
not  feel  anxious  on  Hank's  account,  for  he  had  suggested 
that  he  might  prolong  his  stay  in  case  he  found  himself 
too  fat  ILT! led  to  start  back  immediately. 

About  daylight  on  the  fourth  da\  Kouser.  or  \\  hat  was 
left  of  him.  came  back  to  camp.  His  condition  was  even 
Worse  than  \\hen  he  lirst  came  to  us.  (  lin-  leg  seemed 
broken,  and  several  ugly  \\oiinds  gave  evidence  of  some 
tierce  encounter.  To  his  neck  uas  fastened  a  scrap  of 

paper,  on  ulueb  u.-istr: d  uith  bl 1.  in  scarcely  le-jihle 

charactei-s:    "  Broke  iny   ley-.       ('al.  lion.       lie  quick." 

YYe  losl  no  time  in  going  to  the  rescue.  A  parly  of 
twenty  men.  on  IOIIL'  snou  shoes  and  with  good  rilles. 
started  out.  A  liLjht  fall  of  snow  rendered  it  easy  to  fol- 
low poor  Koiiser's  track.  An  hour's  run  brought  us  to 
tin-  object  of  our  search.  Hank  was  lying  under  a  thick 
pine-tree,  on  the  snow.  At  lirst  we  thought  we  were  loo 
late.  His  form  was  cold  and  almost  rigid.  ( Ine  bone  of 
tin-  left  ley  uas  broken.  Fortunately  brandy  had  not 
been  forgotten,  and  Doc  Furber,  who  was  a  real  physician. 
succeeded  in  restoring  him.  uith  the  help  of  many  rough 
but  willing  hands. 

\Ye  did  not  worry  him  with  questions;  he  could  not. 
talk.  I'.ut  all  around  the  spot  were  marks  of  a  ferocious 
battle. and  t  racks  of  a,  large  California  lion.  A  broken 
snow-shoe,  (he  pieces  hri.stling  with  hair,  indicated  the 
nature  of  the  bait  le.  Then-  was  a  dee]>  wound  on  Hank's 
hand,  and  his  coal  uas  badly  torn.  Watt  Morgan  picked 
up  his  bloody  pocket-knife  in  the  snow.  I  found  his  re- 
volver, with  all  the  chambers  empty. 

Following  the  h-acl;  of  the  ferocious  animal,  his  dead 
body  was  found  about  half  a  mile  from  the  spot.  It  was 
the  largest  specimen  of  the  puma  that  I  ever  saw.  measur- 
ing fully  nine  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  We  secured  his  skin, 
and  slowly  returned  to  cam)). 

It  was  two  days  before  Hank  could  briefly  recount  his 
adventures.  It  appeared  that  he  had  started  out  early  on 
the  morning  of  the  third  day  to  return.  He  had  bought 
a  hundred  pounds  of  bacon,  and  was  lucky  enough  to 
have  it  brought  out  lifteen  miles  by  a  pack  train.  Then 
lie  packed  it  on  his  back  ten  miles  further,  until  he  reach- 
ed the  snow  where  he  left  his  hand  sled.  He  had  come 
on  faster  than  he  expected  until  nearly  sunset,  when  he 
heard  the  familiar  cry  of  a  California  lion.  Upon  that 
he  started  forward  as  fast  as  he  could  go,  and  looking  back 
for  the  lion,  he  made  a  false  step;  his  snow-shoe  hit  a 
stum]),  and  broke,  tin-owing  him  down  with  great  violence, 
and  breaking  his  leg.  Fortunately  the  night  was  warm, 
so  he  had  no  fear  of  freezing.  He  had  a  few  crackers  in 
his  pocket,  and,  with  the  bacon,  he  was  well  provided 
against  hunger,  and  he  did  not  feel  entirely  hopeless. 

Then   the  cry  of  the  California  lion  sounded  nearer. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


No  doubt  he  scented  the  bacon.  Hank  drew  his  revolver, 
and  crawled  to  a  large  tree.  He  partly  succeeded  in  bury- 
ing the  bacon  in  the  snow.  The  fearful  cry  sounded  si  ill 
nearer.  The  sun  had  set,  and  it  was  nearly  dark.  In- 
tently watching1,  he  at  length  discerned  the  animal,  his 
eyes  gleaming  through  the  branches  of  a  tree.  He  decid- 
ed not  to  fire  until  his  only  chance  required  it.  lest  the 
wounded  beast  should  attack  him.  He  shouted,  waved 
his  broken  snow-shoe,  threw  snow-balls;  but  the  creature 
still  skirmished  around  him,  evidently  taking  in  the  sit- 


"EOUSER    SPRANG    UPON    HIM    FROM    BEHIND.' 


nation.  He  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  crouching  as  if  for 
a  spring.  When  he  was  within  a  couple  of  rods  Hank 
fired  his  first  shot,  hoping  to  hit  him  in  the  eye.  But  the 
bullet  seemed  to  glance  from  the  skull.  The  maddened 
brute  was  about  to  leap  upon  him  when  a  champion  ap- 
peared. Rouser  sprang  upon  him  from  behind. 

Then  began  a  fearful  conflict.  Rouser,  who  was  small 
and  more  active,  could  avoid  the  onset  of  his  heavier  foe 
for  some  time,  until  he  grew  weary.  Hank  fired  several 
shots,  but  failed  to  hit  a  vital  spot.  Once  the  battle  surged 
so  near  him  that  he  beat  the  lion  off  with  his  broken  sin  >w 
shoe,  and  succeeded  in  inflicting  a  sharp  wound  in  his 
throat.  This  was  probably  a  mortal  wound,  for  the  ani- 


mal retreated,  closely  pursued  by  Rouser,  and  Hank  could 
hear  the  conflict  raging1  for  an  hour  longer.  Then  Rouser 
returned  in  a  pitiable  plight,  but  joyful  and  triumphant. 

Hank  thought  the  time  could  not  have  been  far  from 
midnight.  But  he  probably  fainted  from  pain  and  ex- 
haustion, for  the  next  he  knew  it  was  morning,  and  he 
was  nearly  dead  with  cold.  He  managed  to  stir  a  little, 
and  from  the  bleeding  wound  on  his  hand,  where  the  tierce 
brute  had  scratched  him,  he  obtained  the  blood  to  trace 
the  warning  we  had  received.  He  had  written  it  with  a 

match,  and  fastened  it  to 
Rouser 's  neck.  With  the 
same  match  he  had  been 
able  to  light  a  little  tire, 
which  he  fed  for  some  time 
with  bark  and  cones  from 
the  pine -tree.  He  ate  a 
cracker,  and  then  probably 
fell  asleep. 

Thanks  to  skillful  sur- 
gery and  good  nursing,  he 
came  out  all  right,  and  was 
able  to  do  his  part  when  we 
resumed  work  in  the  spring-. 
And  Rouser,  who  shared 
his  convalescent  couch, 
with  one  of  his  legs  splin- 
tered and  bandaged,  like  his 
master — oh,  he  was  the  hero 
of  the  camp !  If  a  dog's 
head  could  be  turned  with 
compliments  and  flattery, 
Rouser  would  have  been  a, 
spoiled  dog.  But  his  na- 
ture was  too  noble  and  un- 
selfish to  be  moved  by  any 
sentiment  of  vanity. 

Through  the  long  weeks 
in  which  our  two  helpless 
patients  lay  in  their  rude 
bunks  we  learned  a  lesson 
from  their  brave  and  un- 
complaining patience. 

Hank's  hardness  and  re- 
serve seemed  to  melt  away 
in  a  generous  gratitude  for 
the  attention  and  care  we 
bestowed  upon  him.  And 
it  was  a  good  thing  for  us 
that  we  had  some  ennobling 
occupation  to  expand  and 
elevate  our  hearts. 

As  for  Rouser,  he  got 
bravely  over  his  injuries; 
and  I  am  sure  there  was 
not  a  man  in  Round  Val- 
ley that  did  not  think  him 
as  worthy  of  being  carved 
in  marble  as  any  of  the 
world's  great  heroes. 

That  exquisite  poem  of  the  late  Dr.  Holland,  "To  my 
Dog  Blanco,"  is  a  fitting  tribute  to  dear  old  Rouser: 

"  For  all   <,{  good   lliat   I  have  found 

Witliin   myself  or  human  kind 
Hath   royally   informed   ami   erowned 
His  gentle  heart  and  mind. 

"  I   sean   the  whole  bmad  earth  around 

For  that  one  heart   whieli,  leal  and  true, 
Bears   friendship  without   end  or  bound, 
And  rind  the  prize  in  you. 

"I  trust   you  as  I  trust  the  stars; 

Nor  cTuel  loss,  nor  scoff  of  pride, 
Nor  beggary,  nor  dungeon  bars 
Can  move  you  from  my  side." 


FEBRUARY  20,  1883. 


IIAIil'Kirs  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


249 


LITTLE    SNOW-SHOES. 


250 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


WASHINGTON  IN  YOUTH. 

FORTUNATELY  for  himself  and  his  country,  Wash- 
ington was  educated  in  poverty,  the  son  of  a  Virginia 
farmer.  From  his  childhood  he  was  probably  employed 
ill  active  labors.  His  father  had  large  tracts  of  land  that 
apparently  produced  little  money.  The  house  in  which 
the  young  Washington  was  born  was  small,  and  built  of 
wood.  The  country  around  was  wild  and  thinly  settled. 
Washington  went  to  a  country  school,  where  the  teaching 
was  very  poor.  At  home  in  the  plain  country  farm-house 
he  could  have  learned  little.  His  mother  was  an  excel- 
lent woman,  and  taught  her  son  industry  and  honesty. 

His  father  died  when  he  was  a  child,  and  his  mother,  who 
was  his  father's  second  wife,  was  left  to  support  herself  and 
her  children  from  her  farm.  She  lived  in  comparative 
poverty  in  a  small  wooden  house.  Her  son  George  was  a 
strong  healthy  boy,  and  gave  her,  no  doubt,  all  the  help  he 
could.  He  studied  well  at  school.  He  was  always  indus- 
trious. Like  many  useful  men,  he  educated  himself.  His 
mother  would  no  doubt  have  been  glad  to  have  sent  him  to 
college  at  Princeton  or  Harvard:  but  the  cost  was  great, 
and  the  poor  widow's  son  could  hope  for  none  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  a  higher  education.  John  Adams  and  Samuel 
Adams  could  pass  through  Harvard  with  success ;  Hamil- 
ton was  at  Columbia  College.  Jefferson  at  William  and 
Mary.  But  Washington,  the  most  eminent  of  the  pa- 
triots, was  obliged  to  educate  himself  in  the  midst  of  his 
labors  on  the  farm.  Like  Franklin  and  Burns,  Shakspeare 
and  Virgil,  he  probably  read  as  he  worked  at  the  harvest 
or  guided  his  plough. 

Washington  had  never  any  leisure  to  learn  Latin  or 
Greek,  or  even  French.  His  object  was  to  make  a  living. 
He  kept  no  journal  of  his  youth.  He  never  desired  to 
become  a  "great  man,"  but  he  was  resolved  to  be  an  hon- 
est one,  and  to  maintain  himself.  At  one  moment  he 
thought  of  going  into  the  navy,  but  his  mother  opposed 
it.  She  said  it  was  a  "  bad  scheme,"  and  she  kept  him  at 
home  to  become  the  founder  of  the  republic.  The  war- 
rant for  making  him  a  midshipman  was  already  signed, 
when  she  interfered  so  happily  for  all.  She  would  not 
part  with  her  eldest  son,  the  stay  of  the  family.  She 
feared  to  expose  him  to  the  temptations  and  dangers  of 
a  naval  life.  A  mother's  love  saved  him  to  his  coun- 
try. Forty  two  years  afterward,  in  1787,  he  could  still 
write  to  her  and  subscribe  himself,  "I  am,  honored  madam, 
your  most  dutiful  and  affectionate  son,  G.Washington." 

At  fourteen  Washington  became  almost  accidentally  a 
surveyor.  He  had  already  taught  himself  to  write  a  clear, 
round  baud.  He  drew  well,  and  was  a  careful  mathemati- 
cian, very  correct  and  methodical  in  all  that  he  did.  He 
had  left  school,  and  went  to  stay  with  an  elder  half-brother, 
u  ho  owned  the  fine  estate  of  Mount  Vernon.  He  seems 
to  have  resolved  already  to  become  a  surveyor.  He  had 
surveyed  the  land  around  his  school-house,  and  was  fond 
of  wandering  over  the  country.  He  had  not  sufficient 
knowledge  to  become  a  teacher,  like  John  Adams,  or  a 
lawyer,  like  Jefferson.  He  seems  to  have  founcl  farming 
a  pursuit  that  brought  in  little  money.  He  passed  a  win- 
ter in  pi  i  |  :cring  himself  for  his  duties,  and  was  employed, 
when  under  sixteen,  by  Lord  Fairfax  to  lay  out  his  large 
estate  beyond  the  Alleghanies. 

In  this  pursuit  he  plunged  into  the  wilderness,  slept  on 
the  ground  in  chill  weather,  swam  streams  on  horseback, 
climbed  over  rocks  and  precipices,  and  performed  his  work 
well.  Everything  that  he  did  was  well  done.  He  grew 
tall  and  strong ;  he  could  bear  hardship  and  constant  la- 
bor. He  was  trusted  for  his  honesty  and  good  faith.  At 
nineteen  he  became  the  most  active  of  the  surveyors  of 
the  colony.  He  received  large  sums  of  money;  he  was 
never  again  in  want  of  it  until  late  in  life,  when  his  pa- 
triotism had  made  him  poor. 

But  his  work  was  constant.      For  three  vears  he  was 


always  busy  in  the  wilderness.  He  climbed  mountains, 
explored  valleys,  became  familiar  with  the  red  men  and 
the  wild  tenants  of  the  forest,  and  evidently  loved  his 
border  life.  This  was  the  school  and  college  in  which 
Washington  was  trained.  He  was  the  product  of  a  labo- 
rious youth.  Had  he  been  accustomed  only  to  the  luxu- 
rious life  of  a  city  he  could  never  have  borne  the  toils  and 
cares  of  his  camp  life.  Had  he  been  less  honest  and  true 
he  might  have  sought  a  crown  and  a  tyranny  instead  of 
the  love  and  gratitude  of  mankind. 

It  was  because  he  learned  to  labor  in  youth  that  Wash- 
ington became  useful  to  all  men.  We  celebrate  his 
birthday  because  he  labored,  not  for  himself,  but  for  his 
country. 


NAN.* 

BY    MRS.  LUCY  C.  LILLIE, 
AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN."  "  AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION.'  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IT  seemed  to  Nan  hours  afterward  that  she  heard  her 
aunt's  step  along  the  corridor.  Miss  Rolf  paused  a  mo- 
ment near  the  door,  and  then  went  on  to  her  own  room. 
The  door  closed;  the  house  was  still.  There  was  no  one 
to  advise  her.  Nan  could  only  pray  in  an  agonized,  dumb 
sort  of  way ;  but  God  can  hear  thoughts  as  well  as  words, 
and  she  was  comforted  when  she  had  asked  His  help. 
She  crept  wretchedly  into  bed,  and  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

She  awoke  to  find  her  room  full  of  sunlight,  and  Mrs. 
Heriot  standing  over  her  with  a  grieved  face. 

"  My  child,"  said  good  Mrs.  Heriot,  tenderly,  "  what 
ever  has  happened?  Miss  Rolf  doesn't  want  to  tell  me. 
but  it's  something  you  won't  own  to  her.  Now  do  it — do 
it,  dear,  I  say.'' 

Nan  looked  up  wistfully. 

'''lean  not,"  was  all  she  could  say. 

Mrs.  Heriot  turned  away  to  the  window  with  a  sigh. 

Nan  lay  still,  trying  to  think  what  to  do;  but  there 
was  only  one  idea  in  her  mind.  She  must  guard  Laura's 
secret  until  Laura  chose  to  tell  it. 

"Then  I'm  afraid,"  said  Mrs.  Heriot,  turning  from  the 
window,  "you'll  not  see  your  aunt  to-day.  I  was  to  come 
and  ask  you.  Am  I  to  just  tell  her  you  C(i)i  imf  .'" 

Nan  nodded  tearfully,  and  slowly  Mrs.  Heriot  left  (lie 
room.  When  she  returned  Nan  was  sitting,  dressed,  in 
the  window. 

"You're  to  go  to  breakfast,"  said  Mrs.  Heriot.  "But 
your  aunt  says  you're  not  to  speak  to  her." 

What  a  meal  it  was!  It  seemed  to  choke  poor  Nan, 
who  gladly  escaped  even  to  Miss  Prior,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  plunged  ardently  into  her  lessons.  Miss  Rolf  did 
not  appear  at  dinner  nor  at  tea.  The  rest  of  the  time  Nan 
passed  miserably  in  her  own  room.  After  tea  she  was 
sent  for  to  the  black-walnut  parlor,  where  she  found  her 
aunt  standing  by  her  desk. 

'  Nan,"  she  said,  very  gravely,  "I  wish  to  tell  you  that 
— making  no  remark  about  what  I  must  say  I  consider 
your  dishonest  conduct— I  paid  the  bill  at  Ames's.  This. 
I  hope,  will  lead  you  to  a  candid  and  full  confession  to 
me.  You  must  know  that  the  credit  was  only  given  for 
articles  to  be  bought  by  you  for  the  Traverses.  In  look- 
ing over  your  clothes — your  summer  clothes — to-day,  I 
found  this  in  one  of  your  pockets."  Nan  started  as  her 
aunt  held  up  the  little  tinsel  ornament  she  remembered 
having  picked  up  that  day  long  ago.  in  the  carnage  house 
"Of  course."  continued  Miss  Rolf,  "this  only  confirms 
what  your  silence  indicated." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  during  which  a  sound  of  sob- 
bing rose  in  Nan's  throat. 

*  Bepran  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


FEBRr.VRY  un.  188S. 


IIAUPKR'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


251 


"Have  you  nothing  to  say.  Annice  :"  asked  her  aunt, 
very  sadly. 

Hut  Nan  <-ould  only  shake  her  head,  and  say  "No." 

"Will  you  tell  me  nothing  of  it  ?" 

"I  can  not."  again  said  Nan. 

"Go."  replied  her  aunt,  in  a  stern  voice.  "(TO!  It 
is  a  terrible  blow  to  me,  child,  to  he  so  disappointed  in 
you." 

Nan  turned  and  lied  along  the  hall  up  to  her  own 
room.  It  seemed  |o  her  as  if  some  strong  decision  had 
been  made  b\  Mivs  Rolf  as  she  spoke  the  last  uonls.  and 
wo  the  next  morning  proved.  Mrs.  Ilermi  came  to  her 
while  she  was  at  her  lessons,  and  called  her  into  the  hall. 
Then  she  said,  in  a  quiet  voicc\  which  Nan  did  not  know- 
was  full  <>f  half-suppressed  tears: 

"My  dear,  you're  to  go  back  to  llromlield.  Then-' 
don't  be  so  startled.  Your  aunt  means  t, ,  pa  \  your  board 

and  have  you  taught;  but  \  on 're  to  ^o  to  morrow." 

Poor  little  Nan  !     What  could  she  do  or  saj  .'     She  did 

not  see  her  aunt  ayain.  Through  Mrs.  Heriot  she  begged 
to  see  .loan,  or  Mrs.  Travers  and  David,  but  this  was  de 
nied  her;  and  on  thi>  next  morning,  while  she  was  auam 
sitting  forloruU  in  her  room.  Mrs.  Heriot  brought  her 
the  following  note,  written  in  Miss  llolf's  delicate,  old* 
fashioned  baud  : 

"I  can  nol   trust  myself  to  see  you.  my  child.     It  would 
grieve   me  too   much.      I   am  sending  you  back    to   I '.nun 
field,  where    vour  board    will    be   paid  and  a   suitable   sum 
allowed  to  procure  \  on  unod  teachers  and  cloth  inn-.       I  do 
not  think  it   wise  for  yon  to  go  to  a  school  while  you  have 
your  present   ideas  of  honor.       I  >i  i  all    \  on  can   to   improve 
your  mind  ;  and,  above  all.  pray  to  <  iod  to  spare  \  on    I'm- 
ther  v,  IMICJ  doing.      Your  step  aunt.  Mrs.  1  In  pert .  is  <  -\pi  rt 
iii":  \  on.      She  knows  nothing  of  what  yon  have  done." 

Nan  read  the  letter  in  a  da/.ed.  stupelied  way.  sitting  in 
the  window  of  her  once  home  like  room.  Sin-  Was  quiet 
then,  but  later  in  the  da\.  uhen  she  found  herself  lieui'j- 
driven  away  from  llolf  House  \\itlt  Mrs.  Heriot.  all  her 
repressed  feelings  asserted  themselves.  She  Hung  In  i  31  It 
iiixin  the  good  woman's  shoulder  and  bui-sl.  into  tears. 

Nc.t  one  good  by  even  !     Not  one  parting  glimpse  of  Joau's 

kindly  little  face!      Not.  one   word  with   David  and   Mrs. 
Travers!      (  )h.  it  seemed  a  cruel  ending  of  her  happy  life! 

ClIArTKi:    XXVII. 

KVKNINU  usually  found  Mrs.  Rupert  very  tired  and 
rather  cross.  On  days  when  trade  was  not  brisk  she  was 
apt  In  be  particularly  acid  in  her  manner,  and  on  this  ( )c 
lober  evening  tilings  were  in  a  very  unpleasant  "condi- 
tion of  working,"  as  she'  called  it.  To  begin  with.  Marian 
had  gone  to  spend  the  da\  uith  a  friend,  and  had  not  re- 
turned. "Mary  and  Georgie,  the  two  younger  children,  had 
been  very  troublesome  about  going  to  bed.  and.  to  crown 
everything,  t  he  gas  would  not  light,  so  that  Mrs.  Rupert 
had  been  compelled  to  run  out  herself  for  oil.  and  uvl 
ready  two  lamps,  one  for  the  store  and  one  for  the  parlor. 

Nan  was  expected  back.  Mrs.  Rupert,  as  she  poked  t  lie 
miserable  little  lire  in  the  .sitting-room,  wondered  why 
this  re  arrangement  had  been  made. 

"I  know  how  it  will  end."  thought  Mrs.  Rupert,  nod- 
ding her  head  sagely:  "  the  old  lady  '11  die  and  leave  her 
quite  011  my  hands  again." 

It  was  only  live  o'clock,  but  it  was  as  dark  as  any  win- 
ter evening;  and  as  the  carriage  from  the  station  contain- 
ing Nan  and  Mrs.  Heriot  drove  to  the  door,  the  little  house 
and  store  looked  dismal  enough. 

"  Eh  !  my !  is  this  the  place  <"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Heriot. 

Nan  could  not  answer — her  heart  was  too  full.  She  fol- 
lowed Mrs.  Heriot  out  of  the  carriage,  and  showed  her  the 
way  to  the  house  door,  which  speedily  opened  upon  Mrs. 
Rupert's  portly  figure  aud  large  face. 

"Well,  Nan  Rolf!"  was  her  greeting.  A  stare  at  Mrs. 
Ileriot  was  followed  by.  "  And  who  is  this,  may  I  ask  '." 


"  My  name  is  Heriot,  ma'am."  was  the  very  bland  an- 
swer. "I  was  sent  by  Miss  Rolf  here  with  Miss  An  nice. 
And  now.  my  dear."  she  added,  standing  inside  the  dingy 
hallway  for  a  moment  only.  "  I  think  I'll  just  leave  you 
and  go.  (iood-liy.  love"  —with  a  hearty  kiss,  which  Nan 
passionately  returned;  "do  you  mind  and  write  to  your 
aunt  soon."  And  almost  before  Nan  knew  how  it  was 
done,  the  door  had  closed  and  she  was  alone  with  her  step- 
aunt. 

Mrs.  Rupert  led  the  way  up  the  well-known  stairs  and 
into  the  sitting-room,  which  it  seemed  to  Nan  she  must 
have  left  a"vs  ago.  instead  of  only  six  months.  How 
dingy  and  disorderly  it  looked  after  the  quiet  neatness 
and  comfort  of  Rolf  House! 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert,  setting  the  lam])  down  on 
the  table.  "  I  don't  suppose  yon  expected  to  be  hack  from 
your  line  relations  so  soon.  Miss  Nan,  did  you  ?  I'm  sure 
I  don't  think  the  board  she's  to  pay  is  so  much !" 

"<  >h.  aunt  !"  cried    | •   Nan.  blushing.  "  don't     plea-e 

don't  speak  of  that.      I'll  work.   I'll  do  what  lean." 

"(ill,  you  will,  will  you  ;"  said  Mrs.  Rupert,  turning 
around,  with  a  laugh.  "Well,  we'll  see.  Now  1  sup- 
pose you  want  si supper." 

In  spite  of  her  \\oes  Nan  was  hungry,  and  very  hon- 
estly glad  of  the  plate  of  hot  sausages  and  potatoes  and  the 
pie  Mrs.  Rupert  placed  before  her.  Her  step  aunt  plied 
her  uith  questions  about  her  life  at  Rolf  House,  all  of 
which  she  answered  so  lisllessK  that  at  last  Mrs.  Rupert 
jumped  up.  exclaiming: 

"  Well.  I  don't  know  as  I  ever  took  much  stock  in  those 
people.  Make  ii])  your  mind  they've  thrown  yon  oil'  once 
and  forall.  And.  Nan.  see  here:  I  don't  believe  as  you'll 
gel  more  than  a  year's  board  and  schooling  out  of  them; 
and  I've  made  nif/  mind  up  as  \on'd  oughter  learn  some 
trade.  /can't  keep  you,  and  there's  nothing  else  for  you 
to  do  as  |  can  see.'' 

I' •    Nan!      It    struck    her   only  too   forcibly  that   this 

might   be  the  case,  and  she   spent  a  wretched   and.  if  the 
truth   must,  be  told,  rather  a  rebellious  evening,  consider 
ing  her  future.      Tin-re  was  one  comforting  feature  in  her 
new  life  at    llronilield:  she  had  a  room  to  herself.       It  was 
only  one  of  the  attic   rooms,  bare  and  miserably  gloomy, 
but    it    \\as   all  her  own.      There  she   felt    she  could  some 
I  hues  lie  free  from  intrusion.      It  would  be  a  place  to  think 
of  Lance  and  .loan  in;   perhaps  a  place  to  cr\    in. 

She  helped  Mrs.  Kuperl  upstairs  u  it  h  her  I  riink,  and  be- 
fore she  went  to  bed  unpacked  her  little  be  Ion  gin  gs,  I  rying 
to  arrange  them  \\ith  Rolf  House  precision  in  the  small 
bureau  and  cupboard.  ( )h.  for  one  hour  in  I>everle\  ' 

When  her  aunt  left  her.  Nan  pressed  her  face  against 
the  window  looking  out  on  the  weedy,  dank  garden,  and 
felt  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Much  as  she  desired  to 
be  alone,  it  was  a  relief  to  hear  Marian's  high-pitched 
voice,  about  eight  o'clock,  when  that  young  person  burst 
into  the  room. 

"  Well.  Nan  !"  she  exclaimed,  kissing  her  rat  her  boister- 
ously; "  I  do  declare  !  who'd  have  ever  expected  you  back  '." 

Nan  tried  to  laugh.  "  I  hope  you're  not  sorry,  Marian." 
she  said,  quietly. 

"Oh  no:  I  don't  suppose  I  am,"  rejoined  her  cousin. 
"unless  you're  too  fine  a  lady  to  suit  our  ways." 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  a  fine  lady, "said  Nan,  laughing. 

Marian  sat  down  011  the  little  bed,  and  stared  some  time 
at  Nan. 

"Well,  you're  changed  some,"  she  remarked,  finally; 
and  then,  standing  up  and  giving  her  dress  various  little 
"perks,"  she  continued.  "  Do  you  think  I'm  changed  .'" 

"  Yes,"  said  Nan,  very  honestly. 

In  the  six  months  Marian  had  developed  into  what  she 
considered  a  "young  lady."  She  was  only  fifteen,  but 
she  had  left  school,  was  in  a  dressmaking  establishment, 
and  had  acquired  all  the  worst  airs  and  graces  of  her  com- 
panions. She  wore  the  latest  fashions  in  cheap  iniita- 


252 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


tions;  had  "banged"  her  pretty  blonde  hair  so  low  over 
her  eyes  that  every  bit  of  the  smooth  white  brow  was  con- 
cealed; screwed  in  her  waist  until  her  shoulders  and  hips 
looked  like  caricatures;  and  wore  a  great  deal  of  tawdry 
lace,  cheap  jet,  and  imitation  jewelry. 

"The  girls  at  our  place  are  awfully  stylish/' Marian 
said,  evidently  thinking  she  had  made  a  profound  im- 
pression upon  her  cousin,  "and  we  have  to  dress  a  great 
deal,  I  can  tell  you.  Well,  good-night,  Nan..  I'll  see 
you  to-morrow.  Dear,  what  a  sober  face  you  have !" 


A 


'HEK  AUNT  HELD  UP  THE  LITTLE  TINSEL  ORNAMENT.1' 


And  Marian,  laughing  loudly,  ran  out  of  the  room  and 
down  the  stairs,  humming  bits  of  "  Champagne  -Charlie," 
a  song  just  then  coming  into  fashion. 

"What  would  her  life  here  be?"  Nan  questioned  her- 
self, lying  in  tin-  dark,  long  after  the  house  was  still.  She 
had  not  known  until  now  how  much  the  quiet,  refined  as- 
sociations of  her  life  in  Beverley  had  done  for  her.  Now, 
all  that  she  had  seen  jarred  upon  every  nerve.  And  was 
it  just  ?  Then  there  came  into  Nan's  mind  the  words  of  a 
little  hymn  Love  was  fond  of  singing — 

"  God's  time  for  waiting 
Sluill  be  mine." 

"Oh.  can  it  be?"  thought  poor  little  Nan,  closing  her 
eyes  tightly;  but  the  words  were  like  a  prayer,  and  she 
tried  with  honesty  to  repeat  "Shall  be  mine." 

[TO   BE    CONTINUED.] 


KING'S-COURT. 

.  BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

N  old  game  is  that  of  "  King's-Court."  or,  as  it  is  some- 
times called,  "Save  your  Leader."  but  one  so  seldom 
]  now  that  to  most  of  the  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  it 

will  be  new. 

The  board  may  be  marked  out  on  paper,  or  any  boy 
who  delights  in  mechanical  work  may  make  a  very  beau- 
tiful one  by  inlaying  the  hexagons  with  dark  and  light 
colored  woods  as  is  shown  in  the  diagram. 

There  can  be  but  two  players,  each  of  whom  has  a  king 
and  six  men,  which  may  be  almost  anything;  but  such  as 
are  used  in  checkers  or  draughts  are  the  best,  since  each 
player's  men  can  be  readily  distinguished  from  the  other's. 
The  men  are  arranged  for  the  game  by  placing  the 
white  king  on  the  hexagon  numbered  76,  and  the  black 

king  on  91.  Black's  men 
are  placed  on  74,  78,  70,  82, 
87,  and  65 ;  White's  men  on 
72,  80,  67,  85,  63,  and  89. 

The  aim  of  the  game  is  to 
place  the  king  in  the  centre 
hexagon  with  his  courtiers 
around  him  in  the  circle  2, 
3,  4,  5,  6,  and  7. 

Each  player  moves  in  turn 
from  one  hexagon  to  the 
other,  always  toward  the 
centre,  never  backward.  In 
thus  playing,  when  arty 
man  is  caught  in  a  position 
between  two  of  the  enemy, 
so  that  the  three  pieces  form 
a  straight  line,  he  must  be 
taken  from  such  position 
and  placed  anywhere  in  the 
outer  circle,  the  act  of  do- 
ing so  counting  as  one  move 
to  its  owner.  For  example : 
si i  p] ii  ise  Black  moves  to  16, 
and  White  already  has  a, 
man  on  15  ;  White  then 
moves,  if  possible,  a  man  to 
17,  making  a  yoke  for  his 
adversary.  Black,  instead 
of  being  allowed  to  move 
any  other  piece,  must  take 
his  man  from  16,  and  place 
it  in  the  outer  circle;  then 
White  moves  again  ;  and 
so  on. 

Should  the  piece  caught 
in  the  yoke  be  a  king,  it 
must  be  removed,  but  may 
be  placed  anywhere  on  the 

board  its  owner  chooses,  provided  it  does  not  form,  by  thus 
jumping  it,  the  third  of  a  yoke,  and  provided  the  hexagon 
desired  is  not  occupied  by  another  piece.  For  example: 
White's  king  is  011  8,  while  his  courtiers  are  on  25,  30,  23, 
67,  33,  and  6 ;  Black's  king  is  on  5,  and  his  courtiers  are  on 
'.'6.  2li.  21,  49,  7,  and  12.  Now  White  must  remove  his  king 
from  the  yoke,  and  may  place  him  on  any  unoccupied 
hexagon  save  where  he  would  form  a  yoke  for  Black,  as 
would  be  the  case  should  he  put  him  on  27,  28,  or  40. 

It  can  readily  be  seen  that  it  is  not  wise  to  move  the 
king  too  far  toward  the  centre  of  the  board  in  an  early 
stage  of  the  game,  for  since  it  can  not  be  moved  back- 
ward, its  usefulness  is  impaired  when  too  near  the  home, 
unless  well  supported  by  the  courtiers. 

The  player  should  endeavor  to  so  place  his  men  that  by 
a  consecutive  number  of  moves  he  can  "yoke"  his  adver- 
sary, thus  sending  so  many  of  his  (the  adversary's)  men  to 


FEHUr.UIY  -JH,  1883. 


IIAIIPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


253 


the  outer  circle  that  he  will  have  time  to  get  his  court- 
iers home.  It  is  good  policy  to  crowd  your  adversa- 
ry's pieces  toward  the  centre,  if  possible',  and  llii'ii  take 
your  station  where  "  yokes"  may  be  easily  formed. 

If  a  player  {jets  his  king-  on  the  centre  hexagon,  and 
is  unable  lo  get  the  coin-tiers  around  him,  it  is  wise 
for  him  t<>  try  to  force  his  advcrvn-x  to  "yoke"  the 
kinfj,  and  thus  send  him  liark  on  the  hoard.  where  he 
may  l>e  of  some  service.  Then-lure  this  mode  of  attack 
should  lie  guarded  against  carefully. 

The  rules  of  the  garni-  are: 

None  hut  kings  shall  occupy  or  move  on  to  the 
centre. 

No  piece  shall  he  moved  into  a  yoke;  that  is  to  say, 
no  black  mail  shall  he  allowed  to  move  between  two 
white  men  for  the  purpose  of  being-  yoked. 

No  piece  shall  be  moved  backward. 

If  two  pieces,  one  of  them  being-  a  kinir.  are  yoked 
at  the  same  time,  the  king-  must  be  moved  tirst.  If 
two  or  more  men  are  yoked  by  one  move,  it  is  at  the 
option  of  the  owner  which  one  shall  be  retired  tirst. 

Any  piece  touched  must  be  moved,  or  the  player  for- 
feits his  move. 

Should  any  player  put  his  six  men  on  the  inner  cir- 
cle u  In  ]e  his  king-  is  yet  outside,  he  loses  I  he  uame.  and 
rightfully,  since  by  so  doing-  both  are  prevented  from 
accomplishing-  the  purpose  intended. 

Pieces  may  be  moved  forward  or  sideways,  but  nev- 
er backward;  hence  a  piece  once  phicecl  on  the  centre 
hexagon  can  not  be  removed  unless  forced  lo  reiire 
because  of  a  \  oke. 

The  game  may  be  commenced  h\  each  player  alter- 
nately placing  one  of  his  men  an\uhere  on  the  outside 
circle  instead  of  on  the  hexagons  as  given  above,  with  the 
exception  that  the  two  king-s  must  be  placed  on  Tl!  and  ill. 
as  in  these  positions  they  are  in  a  direct  line  from  tin- 
goal. 

The  number  of  combinations  which  may  he  formed  h\ 


these  men  is  almost  as  many  as  in  the  game  of  checkers, 
and  study  is  quite  as  necessary  to  become  a  good  player. 
Simple  as  King's -(.'ourl.  appears  at.  first,  it  will  lie  found 
reasonably  intricate,  and  those  who  move  after  they  have 
considered  all  the  consequences,  rather  than  before,  will 
most  often  be  victorious. 


st  little  Tiiaidenf ' 
jisVe  teen  «ro  unkind.. 
'  :o  rie;  and -all  tone  off  a-j° 
.me  forMeri  leliind!, 

>^X  •-.        ^Sr-^f.f/t-jHf-'-^"-.^ 


ndeed  cruel  Ire 
tee  and  a  A 


.. 

cBut:  tfe  te^rirop^  forgotten 

-  -~-^- ''         '"-^  J      ^         ^  --:."— 


254 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


rpIIE  Postmistress  would  like  to  hear  from  tln> 
I  boys.  What  are  your  pursuits  out  of  school 
hours?  How  much  time  <l<i  you  spend  in  study 
at  home?  Do  you  have  any  regular  work  to  do 
around  the-  house  or  grounds  in  tin-  morning  be- 
fore school,  and  in  tlic  at'tei-nooii  between  day- 
light and  dark:' 

Another  thing,  boys  :  will  yon  please  write  and 
tell  me  what  yon  do  in  the  evenings,  when  your 
sums  and  exercises  are  finished  and  ready  for 
tin'  next  day? 

ritv  boys  and  eonntry  boys  are  invited  to 
write.  1  would  like,  too,  to  receive  letters  from 
my  boy  friends  who  are  in  offices  and  stores. 
giving  me  some  idea  of  what  they  do  with  their 
leisure. 

If  yon  are  fond  of  reading,  please  name  your 
favorite'  author,  and  tell  me-  how  many  of  his 
books  you  have  read,  and  which,  upon  the  whole, 
you  like  best. 

Send  me,  please,  these  four  things  :  your  favo- 
rite book,  your  favorite  game,  your  pleasant  e-t 
amusement,  and  your  favorite  motto.  I  shall 
expect  a  great  many  letters  from  my  boys. 

This  charming  letter  comes  from  a  mother: 
i  ..  .1  IDO  SPRINGS,  r RADO. 

I  send  ii  list  of  words  made  from  "  orphanism" 
by  my  little  son  one  fearfully  eold  day.  when  he 
could  not  go  mit,  and  your  suggestion  eame  as  a 
perfect  godsend  to  mamma  as  well  as  the  1"  iy,  lor 
I  was  truly  at  my  wits'  end  to  find  amusement  for 
him.  Some  of  the  words  being  found  in  tin  •  <  las 
sical  Dictionary,  and  some  being  proper  names,  I 
feared  they  might  not  be  legitimate,  so  in  copy- 
ing his  list  i  have  placed  them  by  themselves,  with 
?  after  them.  I  also  send  an  enigma  of  his  mak- 
ing. I  hope  he  will  soon  learn  to  write  with  pen 
and  ink,  so  mamma  will  not  need  to  be  his  aman- 
uensis. 

We  sent  for  the  cover,  and  have  had  Vol.  III. 
bound  :  it  makesa  beautiful  book.  A  young  man 
from  theEast,  an  invalid,  whose  health  has  broken 
down  from  over-study,  saw  it  one  day,  and  afti  r 
looking  over  it  with  admiration,  said,  heartily, 

"  I  wish  1  had  had  a  I k  like  that  when  1  was  a 

boy. and  less  mathematics;  I  would  not  be  then 
where  I  am  now."  1  wish  you  would  call  the 
attention  of  your  young  readers  to  the  "  Leather- 
stocking  Tales."  1  have  been  reading  them  to 
my  boy.  and  I  am  more  than  ever  iinpiv--i  .1  b.\ 
this  perusal  with  Cooper's  greatness,  while  I  tear 
he  is  too  much  overlooked  by  the  boys  ot  this 
generation.  JULIA  A.  s. 

Edward  will  find  his  enigma  in  the  present 
number.  His  list,  which  is  a  very  creditable  one. 
has  been  placed  with  the  others,  which  have 
crowded  the  Post-office  Box  for  the  past  fort- 
night. 

Illglve  with  .Mrs.  S.  about  the  "  Lcat  hersloek- 
ing  Tales."  A  young  gentleman  of  twelve  who 
always  comes  to  me.  when  he  has  found  a  book 
'  particularly  delightful,  to  tell  me  about  it,  and 
talk  it  over  with  me,  says  that  the  "Leather- 
stocking  Tales"  will  bear  reading  several  times. 
They  are  thoroughly  manly  and  wholesome,  and 
full  of  the  brisk  life  and  excitement  which  hoys 
enjoy. 


N,  w    ^,,I:K    Pnv. 

I  am  a  little  girl  not  unite  eight  years  old,  and 
I  live  in  New  York.  I  am  very  fond,  of  pets.  I 
had  a  little  black  kitten,  but  it  run  away  while  I 
•was  in  the  country.  Now  I  have  only  one  bird, 
and  lie  is  very  tame ;  he  seems  to  think  as  much 
nt1  me  as  I  i  him.  I  can  take  him  out  of  the 

c  age,  and  he  will  fly  all  around  the  room;  then 
he  will  perch  himself  on  my  liimvr.  and  kiss  me 
in  a  cunning  way.  But  sometimes  he  dors  not 
feel  like  kissing,  and  then  he  will  bite.  Mamma 
says  perhaps  she  will  get  me  two  rabbits  in  the 
Spring.  1  Hkr  t  li<-  Y<  n  M;  I'KOIM.I:  \  ery  much.  This 
is  the  first  time  1  have  written  a  letter  for  the 
Post-office  Box,  but  1  hopr  to  do  so  a^ain 

Santa  <  'laiis  came  lo  sec  me,  and  brought  me  a 
number  of  pretty  presents.  LULU  B.  T. 


I)|.;BY,  NOVA  SCOTIA. 

lam  a  little  girl  seven  years  nld.  Mypai'a  51  ut 
me  the  YorNi;  PEOPLE  for  a  Christmas  present. 
I  had  never  seen  it  before.  I  like  it  very  much, 
especially  "Nan, "and  the  Post-office  Box  is  .just 
lovely:  1  ealt  read  that  best.  Some  of  tin-  pic- 
tures' are  very  funny.  I  don't  think  that  old 
goose  dropped  my  Christmas-box:  it  was  too 
nice.  11  must  have  been  old  Santa  clans  him- 
self, with  his  beautiful  reindeer.  I  see  almost  all 


the  children  who  write  for  the  Yorxo  PEOPLE  live 
in  the  United  states;  I  live  now  away  down  in 
Digby.  Nova  Scotia,  a  very  beautiful  and  healthy 
place  no  fog  in  summer,  not  too  warm,  line  clear 
healthy  breezes  most  of  the  time.  That  is  the 
reason  1  am  here:  my  health  was  so  poor  the 
doctors  said  I  must  not  study  any.  or  even  look 
at  pictures.  But  1  am  getting  better  now.  and  I 
am  so  glad,  for  1  am  tired  of  playing  with  dolls. 
I  love  books  so  much  better,  and  I  can  soon  go 
and  see  papa  and  mamma  and  dear  little  sister 
and  In-other.  I  have  no  pets  here,  but  my  uncle 
says  I  am  pet  enough  for  one  house.  1  write  to 
my  papa  and  mamma  sometimes,  so  I  thought  I 
would  like  to  write  to  yon,  only,  you  see.  1  ha\e 
to  get  some  one  to  put  it  on  paper  for  me.  I 
would  like  to  send  some  verses  my  papa  made 
forme  to  recite  at  a  Sunday-school  concert  when 
I  was  a  little  mite  of  a  girl.  If  you  think  best  to 
put  them  in  the-  "i  OCNG  PEOPLE,  please  do  so.  If 
this  is  too  long,  please  excuse  SADIE  P.  D. 

Here  are  the  stanzas  : 

THE  NEW  YEAR. 
(dad  the  New  Year! 

What  will  it.  bring?— 
Brightness  and  cheer. 

Making  hearts  sing? 

Sad  the  New  Year ! 

What  doth  it  bear?— 
Iiarkness  and  fear: 

P.owing  with  care? 

Happy  New  Year! 

God  ruleth  all. 
\\  e  will  not  fear. 

\\  hate'er  befall. 


AMHKI-.ST,  NOVA  SC»VTIA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  Most  of  the 
little  boys  anil  girls  tell  about  their  pets,  but  I 
have  none.  1  have  three  little  sisters,  and  the 
V'nnu'est  has  no  name:  my  mamma  and  papa, 
i-an  think  of  none  good  enough  for  her.  Can 
yon  send  us  a  prel  ty  name  for  her?  I  have  taken 
HARPER'S  YIU-M;  PEOPLE  since  last  May,  and 
would  not  give  il  up  for  anything.  I  had  a  kit- 
ten, and  my  sister  had  one  too.  which  she  called 
The  mate  ;  and  when  they  got  big  she  could  not 
tell  which  was  the  kitty  and  which  was  the 
mate  ;  so  she  did  not  like  them  after  that,  as  she 
wanted  to  play  only  with  the  mate.  1  like  the 
stories  by  the  little  boys  and  girls  very  much. 
This  is  my  first  letter,  and  I  waut  to  see  how  it 
looks  when  it  is  printed.  HAKKY  V.  B. 

1  can  not  help  you  to  a  name  for  the  beautiful 
bab\  girl. because  I  do  not  know  what  names  her 
si-it ers  have.  A  lovely  child  whom  I  know  is  call- 
ed Pearl.  How  would  that  do?  What  a  funny 
reason  your  little  sister  had  for  playing  with  nei- 
ther of  the  kittens!  she  ought  to  have  kept  a 
blue  ribbon  round  the  neck  of  the  mate,  or  given 
it  a  pretty  little  collar  to  distinguish  it  from  its 
1  win 


It  is  nearly  two  years  since  we  eame  from  Ohio. 
We  are  living  in  the  city  now,  but  papa  has  a  farm 

I  we  I  ve  miles  in  flic  country.  We  expect  to  move 
to  it  as  soon  as  mamma  is  able  to  go.  She  has 
been  siek  since  Thaiiksiiiving. 

Our  house  in  the  country  needed  some  repairs, 
.so  papa  took  me  out  to  keep  house  for  him  while 
he  works  on  it.  I  have  enjoyed  this  very  much. 
When  I  get  my  cooking,  dish-washing,  and  clean- 
ing done.  I  go  to  the  creek,  and  spend  my  leisure 
lime  skating  and  playing  on  the  ice.  I  am  sure 
the  little  girls  would  enjoy  skating  on  my  rink, 
for  it  is  a  beautiful  and  natural  one.  With  l<  ivc. 

IlKSSIE    M. 

What  a  bright  little  girl,  to  be  able  to  keep 
house  lor  papa,  and  how  pleasant  to  do  it,  when 
there  is  the  delight  of  watching  repairs,  and 
thinking  how  cozy  it  will  be  by-and-by  for  mam- 
ma !  I  am  pleased  to  hear  from  this  little  house- 
keeper. 


I  am  ten  years  old.  and  live  with  my  aunt  and 
uncle  to  be  company  for  them,  as  they  have  no 
daughter  of  their  own.  and  also  to  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  good  school.  My  parents,  who  live 
in  Nebraska,  on  a  farm,  have  four  girls  beanie* 
me.  We  had  one  brother,  who  died.  I  visited 
my  parents  last  summer,  and  I  had  a  great  deal 
of  fun,  fishing  and  playing  with  my  sisters.  I 
came  back  to  Iowa  all  alone  on  the  cars. 

YOUNG  PEOPLE  came  to  me  fora  Christmas  pre- 
sent, and  I  am  well  pleased  with  it.  though  I 
haven't  as  much  time  to  read  as  I  want,  for  I 
must  dry  the  dishes,  and  do  other  work  besides, 
after  school,  for  amity  says  I  must  learn  to  work, 
so  that  I  shall  become  a  useful  woman. 

INEZ  B.  II. 


CHKYENNR  DEPOT,  WYOMING  TERIUTIHO  . 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  my  magpies.  It  the 
readers  have  not  seen  one,  I  will  tell  them  that 
they  are  black  and  white,  with  long  tails  and 
bills,  and  they  will  bite  if  you  are  not  careful 
when  near  them.  They  will  talk  very  nie.lv 
Mine  will  say.  "Polly  want  a  cracker,"  "Put 


him  out."  "Maggie."  ".lack."  and  many  other 
things.  I  hope  my  letter  is  not  too  long,  lam 
eight  years  old.  and  I  have  never  been  to  school: 
mamma  teaches  me.  Uood-by.  M.  E.  L. 

To  M.  E.  L.'s  little  letter  her  nurse  added  a 
postscript  saying  that  while  the  little  girl  was 
writing  a  blizzard  was  blowing  furiously,  mak- 
ing the  sand  fly  in  every  direction,  and  stinging 
like  whip-cords.  However,  she  says  some  bliz- 
zards are  even  worse,  fairly  lifting  people  off 
their  feet.  There  is  nothing  much  more  terrible 
than  a  violent  storm  of  wind.  I  hope  the  mag- 
pies and  their  mistress  will  never  be  caught  in 
one. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  and  have  two 
brothers  ;  Carl  is  four,  lieid  is  almost  two.  I  go 
to  school,  and  we  have  fine  sport  sliding  down 
the  snow-drifts.  I  shall  begin  taking  music  les- 
sons this  week.  I  had  one  gold-fish  and  three  lit- 
tle sunfish  :  I  traded  them  for  a  little  dog  this 
morning,  and  then  traded  him  off  for  five  sticks  of 
candy.  I  help  ma.  and  sometimes  put  on  an  apron 
and  wash  the  dishes;  and  when  it  is  well  done  I 
receive  five  cents  each  time.  That  is  the  way  1 
ha\e  earned  the  money  to  pay  for  my  paper.  I 
like  all  the  stories  and  letters,  but  some  of  the 
stories  I  just  love.  I  am  almost  afraid  yon  will 
not  think  this  letter  worth  printing. 

KAKLIE  H.  S. 

This  is  just  the  sort  of  letter  I  like  to  print.  I 
think  a,  great  deal  of  boys  who  are  willing  to  help 
mamma  with  the  dishes,  or  with  sweeping,  or  any 
other  house-work  in  which  she  needs  help.  One 
of  the  most  splendid  soldiers  I  ever  knew,  as 
brave  as  a  lion  in  danger,  when  a  little  fellow  of 
ten  used  to  help  his  mother  just  as  you  do.  Karlie. 

But  what  possesseil  you.  my  hi  i\ .  to  exchange 
your  doggie  for  five  sticks  of  candy  ?  That  wasn't 
a  very  good  stroke  of  business,  in  my  opinion. 


AUSTIN,  '}  t  \i- 

This  is  the  second  year  a  kind  friend  has  given 
me  your  splendid  paper,  and  I  like  it  more  and 
more  every  time  I  read  it:  my  little  sisters  enjoy 
hearing  it.  read  to  them  very  much.  I  am  very 
much  interested  in  the  story  "Nan. "and  think  it 
very  good  indeed. 

We  have  a  cat,  and  her  name  is  Muff,  and  a 
dog  named  Tamerlane,  but  we  call  him  Tarn  for 
short.  I  have  a  beautiful  wax  doll  named  Mar- 
guerite, and  1  have  a  doll's  trunk  for  her.  I  can 
make  biscuit  and  cake  ;  also  corn-bread,  tea,  and 
toast.  I  think  Rosalie  P.  has  made  herself  fa- 
mous by  her  letter,  as  so  ma  ny  ha  ve  spoken  of  her. 
She  seems  to  dislike  washing  dishes  more  than 
most  uirls,  though  1  suppose  they  nearly  all  agree 
with  her.  But  1  don't  think  they  ought  to  e.nn- 
plain,  as  cheerfulness  lightens  labor.  Don't  yon 
ihink  so.  dear  Postmistress?  NELLIE  B. 

Rosalie  did  not  mean  to  complain.  I  am  sure. 
By-the-way,  she  must  write  again,  and  reply  to 
some  of  the  Little  Housekeepers  who  were  inter- 
ested in  her  letter.  Please,  Nellie,  send  your  re- 
ceipt for  corn-bread. 


KEAKM  \  -\  n  i  v .  WHST  \  IKOMA. 

1  thought  that  I  would  write  a  letter  to  \ .  m.  as 
I  have  just  finished  reading  the  letters  iii  your 
dear  paper  that  aft'onis  me  M,  much  pleasure. 
We  have  three  pet  kittens  and  three  cats.  I 
thiuk  "  Nan"  is  very  nice.  1  enjoy  all  the  pieces 
very  much.  I  live  on  a  farm  in  Virginia.  Yes- 
terday was  the  first  day  we  have  had  snow 
enough  to  coast;  we  enjoyed  it  very  much,  par- 
ticularly my  little  sister  Leila,  who  is  only  tine. 
years  of  ,-^e  s  \IUE  C.  B. 

P.S.--I  send  the  receipt  of  mamma's  ginger- 
cake,  it  is  delicious 

Take  one  quart  of  molass.  s.  one  pint  of  butter- 
milk, two  table-spoonfuls  of  ginger,  two  of  soda 
dissolved  in  the  milk,  two  tea-cups  of  inelie.l 
butter  or  lard,  and  two  quarts  of  flour. 

Little  girls  who  try  this  may  take  half  the 
quantity  of  everything,  as  this  receipt  will  make 
a  very, large  cake. 


PARIS.  In  [sols 

I  love  so  much  to  read  our  Post-office  Box.  1 
thought  I  would  write  to  you.  I  am  eleven  years 
old,  and  attend  the  High  School.  I  would  love  to 
tell  you  about  our  school  and  the  handsome  new 
school  building,  but  can  not  this  time.  I  took 
YOUNI;  PEOPLE  when  it  was  first  published,  and 
liked  it  so  much  that  I  persuaded  papa  to  sub- 
scribe again  this  year.  Papa  likes  to  get  us  any 
good  books  or  papers  that  he  thinks  will  be  in- 
structive and  entertaining  for  us  to  read.  I  was 
very  much  disappointed  last  week,  as  the  news- 
man sold  my  paper  to  some  01 Ise  ;  but  he  or- 
dered another  copy  for  me,  and  I  1:0  every  even- 
ing to  the  book-store  to  see  if  it  has  come! 

I  want  to  tell  you  about  my  little  brother.  He 
is  four  years  old.  and  a  great  pet  with  us  all.  On 
Christmas-eve  (which  was  Sabbath)  we  were  all 
sitting  around  the  fire,  belore  the  lamps  were 
lighted,  in  the  library,  which  has  an  east  hay  win- 
dow, when  all  at  once  (Jcorgie  gave  a  scream  and 
a  bound  across  the  room,  crying,  "Look !  look! 


FEIJRrAIlY 


.  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


255 


.],  i      he  is  :   d'-re'sSanta  Tan-  t  ominc  wight  over 
•  I.-  tree-tops!     He's  dot  a  silver  rap  "it.     Kick, 
mamma  :  det  ni\  shoes  »tT  before  lie  det-  i  •  n 
-IP  I  e.in  hang  up  ln\   'toekhiL'-  "     We  al] 
nut  of  the  wiudow,  and  there  was  the  great  r-  .an  I 

111!  Hill   peeping  thro  HIT  1 1   1  lie   [line  t  rees.  \\  hieh  (lid 

indeed  1- 1.  >k  like  a  "  -ilver  eap."     Mamma  -aid  it 

was  a  beautiful  thought,  and  we  all  ki 

a  sweet  g 1-uight  a-  he  hurried  off  to  bed  before 

Santa  I'lau-  would  "del  hen-.'1         FHKPDIK  I). 


•  i:ii.  [M.IAV  i. 

I  am  a  hoy  fnill-te'  n  v    :M  -  ..Id.      1  li\e  close  t.. 
Bradford.     I  am  1  he  youngest  h.iy  c.l  the  family. 
I  have  I.  'en  MI, iir,'  II  utpi  tt'a  "i  ot  SB  I'r  on  i.  for 
about    two  in. .nth-:   I   tiud   it   very  interesting. 
Tin-  i-  the  tir-t  time  1  have  written  t..  it.     I  am 

a  ilng  !•>  scl 1.     1  have  a  good  many  cousins. 

and  if  any  of  them  are  taking  the  paper.  !  wish 

ihe\  would  write  toil  There  Is  MTV  little  game 
ahont  here.  I  do  not  go  hunting  very  often.  I 

have  a  larire  black  dog  whieh  i-  \,-r\  loml  of 
hunting.  1  -"in.'tini.  -  hiteh  him  up  ill  a  little 
wagon  and  haul  wood  with  him. 

He  will  -hake  hands  with  me  if  I  hold  ont  my 

hand,  or  he  v.  ill  take  hold  of  my  liand  1  lead 

me  I  often  take  a  ehair  out  and  lay  if  down: 
he  will  then  .jump  it  without  touching  it-  lie 
will  jump  over  anything  tw -three  feel  high. 

\\"h--n  he  \va-  lit!  le  he  wa-  -"  mi>ehie\  on-  i  Lai 
lie  would  tear  up  my  hook-  and  hats.  Don't 
think  me  ehildisli  aliont  my  pel  dog:  tor  being 
a-  I  am  the  youngest  of  thirteen  children,  you 
maj  know  1  have  I le.-n  petted  [  hope  this  letter 
is  not  too  I. me.  \"/i  «".  II. 

f,ls.  ..IS.   Nun;  v-k  ,. 

We  are  four  little"  idiildren.  and  Ihe  with  our 
mamma.  I'apa  ha-  he.  n  .'  id ni  o  :>  three  years, 
anrl  -ometime-  we  are  V'-ry  lonelv  We  iia\.  an 
Ulllde  \vllo  liM--  near  Koektord.  Illilloi-.  allll  he 
send-  US  one  of  t  he  lliee-t  present  -  e\  cry  week  : 

it  is  Vnrxii  I'Knri.K.  We  like  ••.Nan"  the  hist  of 
all  the  -tori.'-. 

II  has  heen  very  eold  and  -torm>  tin-  winter. 

Walter    keep-     the     path-    el.   all.    and     .i...--     ill   oil 

other  things   out-..!  doors        Mice   i-    learning'   to 

keep   hoil-e.  and   \\  .  .  1 1  M    like  t..  join   tile  ellll'         W  e 

do  not  go  to  seho.,1.  but    mamma   i-  '  leaeher. 

VVo  have  a  horse,  and  when  it  i-  pleasant  we  have 
such  ni.'e  rid.--  onrlie-!  pet  i s  a  1  it  1 1. '  dog  ;  we 
tie  notes  on  his  neek.aiid  he  takes  i  hem  seven 
1. locks,  to  grandma'-,  and  bring-  an-wer-  to  n-. 
U II  him  Tell,  hut  hi-  name  is  Telephone 

u.i-i  i-  iu-t  recovering  from  a  severe  attack  ol 
inflammatory  rheumatism ;  baby  call-  it  "rlsem 

t  ism  "  Ye-terda  \  \\  a-  t  ii>'  In- 1  .  la  \  he  e.  tnld  ha\  e 
ou  his  elolhes.  It  was  verv  nire  that  Tell  would 
.•any  notes  and  tell  grandma  IIOH  \liel  was  :  we 

tiiink   more  than   ever  of  him.      'I  on  eat t   ini 

agille  how  liiee  it  i-  t..  ha\e  our  liMl.  I. roth,  r 
Well  enough  to  play  \\  ith  us  oiiee  in.  a  . 

\i  i.  .       (aged  9),       \r.i.i.     iage.1  :>.. 

WAI.TKII  laged  ',<.       .li>-i:rii    aired  Si. 

Per  M  \ MM  \ 

A  -lory  lolil  hy  three  year  old  .lo-eph  : 
(  niee  there  was  a  litt  le  boy,  and  he  went,  "way 
out  in  the  win  ids.  mill  he  ram.'  I ..  a  L'  i  .  a  t  hear. 
The  litt  le  hoy  ran  and  ran.  and  he  e.mie  to  a  great 
I. arn,  and  he'  elimlu'd  up  on  I  he  ha >  loft .  and  t  lie 
I. ear  eonld  not  gel  him  Then  a  man  come  and 
shot  the  hear  in  the  neek  :  lull  it  did  not  kill  it, 
.so  he  shot  it  again,  and  it  did.  Then  the  little 
hoy  ran  home  to  hi-  mamma,  and  never  ran  oft' 
again 

1  shall  he  chid  to  hear  again  fi'om  Tell's  little 
owners.  

CAMi:  ill'  i  IM;O\IM;KAMS 

The  player-  are  seated  round  t  he  table.    A  mim- 

lier  of  date-  are  \\  ritten  ou  serap-  of  paper,  and 

put  into  a  bag.      Faeh  player  is  provided  with  a 

piece  ..f  paper  and  a  pencil,  and  has  to  find  names 

,,f  i t-.  sovereigns,  historians,  or   remarkable 

eharaeters,  the  tirst  letters  of  who-e  names  will 
make,  in  IJoman  eharaeters.  Ihe  dale  hi-  holds. 

When  all  the  players  are  ready,  the  leader  of 
the  came  eolleels  'the  papers,  and  reads  aloud 
the  names  seleet"d  for  their  in  it  ia  I-  A  forfeit  is 
paid  for  every  mistake,  and  for  every  tictire  for 
which  it  may 'he  impossible  to  liud  an  initial. 


I.I  Ki.  KANSAS. 

I  live  with  my  papa  and  mamma  ill  the  eoun- 
try.  The  nearest  town  and  railroad  are  twenty 
miles  from  here.  \\'e  have  a  large  sheep  raneh. 
We  have  twenty-three  young  lambs  now,  and  two 
little  kids,  which  are  nice  pets.  They  will  go  up- 
stairs as  easily  as  a  person  will.  Wehavetogotwo 
miles  and  a  half  to  school.  Mamma  takes  us  with 
a  horse  and  buggy  most  of  the  time.  T  have  a 
brother  ten  years  old.  I  am  a  little  girl  of  eicht. 
Maybe  my  brother  will  write  you  a  letter  some 
time,  and  tell  you  how  well  we  like  HARPEF.'S 
V,.i'N,:  I'I.I.IM.I:.  I'apa  ha-  taken  it  for  ns  for  a 
year,  and  we  are  always  glad  when  it  eomes. 

KATIK  M.  C. 


I1..: I  l  v.  N)  w    V..l:K". 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— Did  you  ever  take  part  in 
a  snow-fight  in  years  Rone  by  ?  It  is  splendid  fun . 
In  fact,  there  is  no  better  fun  tlmu  snowballing 
anyway. 

Tin-  i-  how  t..  ticlit  :  the  balls  are  thrown  as 


fast  as  they  are  made  generally,  hut  eaeh  side 
oni_rht  ;  id  supply  ready,  for  those  uh.< 

have  the  ni..-t  hall.-. and  can  holdout  the  h incest, 
will  win  the  day. 

II  y..ii  d  .n't  like  to  he  in  the  front  row.  then 
slip  quietly  to  the  rear.  A  Ki:Ani:i:. 

What  a  droll  l.oy  is  this,  to  be  sure  :  Hid  /,  a 
dignified  I'ost  mi-t  tv-s,  ever  enlace  in  a  suow- 
tight  ':  l.in.'\  m\  -urpri-e  when  1  read  that  que-- 
tion  :  And  then  that  -lippinc  uway  to  the  rear! 
li  evi  '•  I  .I"  L:..  -no\v  hall  inc.  you  may  depend  on 
my  stayinc  in  the  front  line. 


"I'm  coinc  "lit   to  walk."  she  said 

\   111  1 1.,  maid  of  three  I. 
"  And    if  \ou  will   lie   good."  -he  said, 
"Wh>.y..u  may  go  w'ith   me." 

•-..  tir-i  we  found  the  silken  hood, 
And  then  we  found  the  furs: 

The    whitest,  softest,  dearest    IllUff. 
\  .  .n  ma>    be  sure,  w  a-  hei  - 

And    then    we    tried    the    -unliy   side. 

This  little  maid  and  I. 
And  merrily  she  made  a   bow- 
To  all  w  hi .  passed  n-  hy. 

"I'm  coinc  out   to  walk."  she  -aid 

i  \  little  maid  ..f  three), 
"  And  if  you're  very  g I,"  -in1  -aid. 

"  Why,  you  may  L'O  \\ilh  m. 


Two  c 1  recelp  rom  a  Little  Mouse 


. 

cupful  of  Hour  an.  i  .n.  grating  II"   iind 

into  it.     Hal.  .1 1  \  pans. 

i  i  M  i  i'i  i -•  .d'l  one  quart  ..f  milk. 

0   out   a   little,  in  whieh  -tir  one  larce  lea- 
si oft  ntarch,  three  eggs,  cup  of  sug- 
ar; stir  ill  the  milk:  add    a    eup  o]    COCO8  nut.  a 
-mall  pi.ee  of  batter,  and  a  tea  -p.  "  .id  ill  . 
on.     I>ake  hall  an  hour. 

I1.  ITT* n,  NKH   V..KK. 

I  h  i ,  Qting  to  write  to  ^ r  quite 

a  while.  I  ha\.  a  w  hite  pet  kitten;  In-  name  i- 
Mi. .\\tlake  Thi-  i  d  vear  1  ha\'e  been 

takiuc  lUiieii:-  ^..l  M.  I'lj.ei.K.  ami  1  like  the 
paper  verj  inneh  I  like  Jimmy  Mrowil's  stories 
and  "  Nan  be-t .  I  want  to  -a\  e  all  the  numbers. 

and   c.'l    them  1 •    a    Intl.-  printinc- 

pre--      It  -an i!   th.    i  hri-t  mas-tree  :  I   cue-s 

papa  put  it  on.      It  i-  not   -.,  bic  a  piv--  a-  Mr    II 

has  to  prim  tlie  Prattsburgh  -\."'.-  on      i  1.^.1 

about  y.  air  paper-  and  books  in  t  lie  Vetpg.  I  L'O 
to  -ehool.  It  M  en  I.  VAN  'I  ir- 

t'n  \i.(  i:no\  ^  In  reply  to  a  liltl'1  .  cchangei 
who  \\  i-hes  to  know  about  I  his  prett  y  variet  y  of 
<plart/,tlle  I',  .-t  rni-t  re-s  will  deseribe  it  as  well 
as  she  ean.  It  (h'i-i\  es  its  name  from  » 'haleedoii, 
where  it  is  found  in  quantities.  Its  color  is  white. 
grayish,  pah1  to  dark  brown,  black,  and  some- 
times a  delieate  bine.  There  is  a  Cray  variety 
found  in  Hungary.  The  kind  of  quartz  whieh 
Ln  yonr  cabinets,  and  call  chal- 
cedony, i-  a  mill.,  white  opaque  variety.  A  -til- 
dent  of  L'eoloL'y  t.lls  me  he  has  often  found  it  as 
a  eiiatinc  lor  otln  r  minerals. 


> ...    you,  mj    r  cirl--.  have   more   dolls 

t  hall  V"  l.n,  .\\  what  1 ..  do  with.  I  met  two  little 
cirls  the  ..t  her  day  who  had  no  d.  -Us  at  all  lint. 
liless  their  lit  tie  merry  hearts!  they  managed  very 
well  without  them.  And  what  do  you  think  they 
hail  dressed  up  in  their  own  hats  and  shawls,  and 
were  playinc  willi  in  t  he  jolliest  fasliion.  w  hen  I 
happened  to  walk  down  their  street  and  past 
their  door?  You  will  never  r;ness  in  the  world, 
SO  I'll  tell  yon.  They  had  made  believe  the  two 

iron  posts  on  either  side  of  the  railinc  of  their 
fri  .lit  porch  wen-  dolls. and  there  they  w  ere  chirp- 
inc  to  the  posts  like  little  sparrows,  culling  them 
prett  v  nam.-.  and  |.Ia\  inc  that  they  were  mam- 
mas iroinc  out  to  tea  with  their  babies,  just  as 
you  do  with  your  gayly  dressed  dollies. 

I  was  clad  that  the  winter  day  was  alin..-i  a- 
warm  and  sunny  as  spring,  for  I  feared  the  little 
eirls  would  take  cold.  And  1  was  glad  that  I  had 
happened  to  walk  through  the  narrow  street 
where  these  children  lived,  because  I  saw  that 
brave  and  happy  hearts  and  smiling  faces  are 
sometimes  found  in  very  poor  homes,  as  well  as 
in  those  which  are  rich  and  comfortable. 


':''.''.  —  '''The  tailor  took  his  froose  alone.1    Why 
is  a  tailor'-  smoothing-iron  called  a  goose?" 

Because  the  curved  handle  of  the  iron  is  sup- 
posed to  resemble  the  neck  of  that  stately  fowl. 
The  term  "printer's  devil"  was  formerly  ap- 


plied to  the  lowest  hoy  in  the  establishments 
where  printing  was  done.  His  work  made  him 
hlaek  ami  inky,  and  he  was  obliged  to  perform 
the  ni..-t  di-.uiv.'ul.le  ..tli.'e-.  and  run  ou  every- 
body s  errands. 


PUZZLES  FROM   Mil   M,  < 'DNTKIlJUTOliS. 

No.  1. 

M\  o    ENIGMAS. 

1.  First  in  story,  not  in  tale. 
Seei.nd  in  embark,  not  in  sail. 
Third  in  amiable,  not  in  LP<  "  'd. 
i  •  .'iilh  in  e.  la) .  not  in  hood. 
Fifth  in  dish,  not  in  plat  t.r 
Sixth  in  compliment,  not  in  Hatter. 
Seventh  in  jingle,  nol  in  rh\me. 

Whole  a  -poll  that  pa-ses  the  time. 

.1.1'    II. 

'-'.  First  in  bullet,  in. I  in  gun. 
See.  .ml  in  raee.  not  in  run. 
Third  in  sack,  not  ill  bac. 
Fourth  in  tatter,  not  in  rag. 
till  h  in  howd,  not  in  spoon, 
sixth  ill  star,  not  in  mo.  m. 
s.  \  .nth  in  calf,  not  in  slei  r. 
I  utit  h  in  look,  not  in  p.  .1 

Whole  is  prized  by  men  ami   lio\  - 

As  among  their  greate-i   joys 

Ki>\\  \  nn  DANA  SAUINI-:. 


Nn.  -'. 

I  H  Kl    I       I    ',  -  •>      IU  \  MOM.s 

I.  — 1.  A  letter.    ','.  A  toy.    3.  Agem.     I.    \earess. 
a.  A  let  I.  r  i  ,    i  .    I  .01  PSMITH. 

'.'      I.  A  letter.     -,'  An  animal.    :;   A  child.     I.  To 

persel.  re        :,      \    letter.  LlTTl  I     K  n  I  ,  \  - 

:;      I.  A  litter.     •„'.  A  space      :!.  .Macniliceiit .      I    \ 
pat.     .">.  A  letter.  GEO    1 1ST. 


BEHEADINGS 

1  I.I  am  part  of  ail  apple  :  behead  me.  and  I 
am  a  metal.  -.'  I  am  a  use  in  I  art  iele  in  1  he  house  ; 
behead  me.  and  I  am  a  home.  :',  I  am  a  part  of 
I  hue  ;  behead  me.  and  I  am  part  of  the  body.  4.  I 
am  often  used  for  bad  boys:  behead  me.  and  I 
am  a  familiar  sound.  .V  I  am  an  article  of  dress  : 
b.head  me.  and  I  am  an  implement.  < ;  i  ..ia.  1 1: 

I  I  am  a  metal:  behead  mi-,  and  I  am  not. 
\.'iniL"  ','  I  am  a  garment  :  behead  me.  and  lam 
a  grain,  '-\.  \  am  somelhing  to  n-e  ;  behead  me, 
an. I  I  am  not  down.  \.  I  am  not  good:  behead 
me.  and  I  am  not  out.  .Y  1  am  a  How  er :  behead 
me.  and  I  am  a  tin  id.  li.  I  am  a  part  of  t  he  body  ; 
b.  li.ad  me,  and  I  am  a  eon  junction.  ','.  1  am  a 
hoy's  name:  behead  nn.  and  1  am  a  color;  bc- 
h.  ad  me  again,  and  1  am  a  hoy's  name. 

IIui.BN  W.  <>AI:IIM-:I:. 


No.  I. 

ivomi  siji   M;K. 

1.  Skillful.  •„'.  A  waterfowl.  .'!.  All  adjective. 
1  Fairies  or  eh  es.  5.  A  meeting-place. 

IVANIIOE. 

No.  .1. 

\%    MI:. .-n.      i  !','  <.,r.'llm. 

1.  A  \ine.  -'.  A  covering.  :;  An  animal.  4.  A 
number.  5.  Finis,  li  Devoured,  i.  A  metal.  H.  A 
eon  June!  ion  '.I.  I  sed  in  tishiug.  Ill  A  serpent. 

n.  to -urn  up.  1-j.  Apart  of  the  year.  i:t.  A  part 
of  the  body.  I'entrals  form  a  day  of  love  and 
peace.  W.  II.  EAT. 

ANSWICKS  Til   PI  //.I.ICS  IN  No.  170. 


No.  1.  I' 

BED 

PEAK  I. 

D  R  Y 

L 


A 

A    I'    K 

A    1'    P    L   E 

10    I,    Iv 

K 


No.  J.  Constantinople. 

1 1  'a  1 1  ton,  oh;..  Naples,  s\\  eden.  Tunis.  Annap- 
olis. Natal,  Trip.  ili.  Irkutsk.  Nashville.  Ok- 
hotsk. Po.  Londonderry.  Kvausville.i 

No.  :i.  \\  estminster  Abbey. 

st;         Army.    Tim.     Hat.     .Man.     I'.eet       West. 


I'orreet  answers  to  pn/./.Ies  have  heen  receive'f 

from  II.  D.  S.,Geo.  Logist.  Arthur  Bancroft,  Hope 
Antrim.  (;eorge  II.  N..  Arthur  Starr.  Maggie  Hess, 
Theodore  llaldwin.  W.  I'..  Fllie  Widgcr.  Willie  S. 
Maefarland.  Eunice  and  Jlollic  Townley.  I'hebe 
E.  Franklin,  "W.H.  Eat,"  Jane  and  Sarah  Wilson. 
Nelson  K.  t'obleigh.  Florence  Harriet  Chambers, 
rge  H.  Jacobs, Caroline  J.  l.ymaii.  "  Little  Kit- 
tens." Alice  and  Nellie,  Angnsta  Low  I'arke.  Jes- 
samine Pollock."  Ivannoe,"Q.G. Goldsmith, Lulu 
Wan.lle.-s,  fora  Baxter.  Esther  Vail.  .John  Smith. 
Charles  C.  Kamsdell.  Hugh  Mael.aren.  Lnlu  V.H., 
I  'harles  K..  A.  P>.  ('..  I'ayson  T.  Price.  Nellie  Sarks, 
Bettie  Ward.  Arthur  Ximmerman.  Emily  Seibert. 
Anna  De;in.  Josephine  and  Walter  Schenck,  Kate 
"Miller.  Jack  and  (iemme  Browning,  Ella  Ferris, 
May  chambers.  /.  and  T.  Benson,  Amy  Arrow, 
Princess  Jean,  and  Clintie  E. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  Zd  and  3d  pages  of  cover.} 


256 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


:     '- 


T   TELL  you  flat  dis  obercoat'; 

Becomin'  to  dis  chile; 
He  fits  a  little  bit  too  much, 
But  ain't  he  jess  dc  style  ? 


CAT  AND  MOUSE. 

A.    NEW     IJST-JDOOR.    G-AME. 

TWO  rows  of  chairs  arc  placed,  back  to  back,  across  the  room, 
not  close  together,  but  with  room  to  pass  between  each 
chair  and  the  next,  and  with  a  space  euough  for  running  about 
between  the  two  rows. 

In  that  middle  space  one  player  stands  blindfolded — the  Cat. 
On  each  side,  behind  the  chairs,  are  all  the  other  players,  the 
Mice,  each  having  a  number,  black  and  plainly  written  on  a 
ronud  piece  of  paper  or  card  about  the  size  of  an  egg  plate. 
They  may  exchange  numbers  with  each  other  as  often  as  they 
likej  to  prevent  the  Cat  from  knowing  where  the  numbers  are  or 
who  bears  them.  So  long  as  they  do  not  come  into  the  middle 
space  they  are  as  safe  as  mice  behind  the  wainscoting,  but  in 
the  middle  between  the  two  rows  of  chairs  the  Cat  goes  about 
and  listens  to  catch  what  she  can. 

The  Cat  calls  the  numbers,  two  at  a  time,  and  the  Mice  called 
for  must  cross  to  the  opposite  side.  Even  if  they  are  caught 
they  may  slip  away  again,  for  the  Cat,  has  to  guess  which  of  the 
two  numbers  she  has.  The  other  Mice  may  try  to  help  the  un- 
lucky ones  called  for  by  running  out  of  their  holes  and  teasing 
the  Cat  by  touches  or  little  squeaks ;  hut  if  they  be  caught,  there 
is  no  guessing  of  numbers  for  them. 

Whenever  she  likes,  the  Cat  may  gravely  remark,  "  The  Cat's 
away."  and  going  to  the  wall,  lay  her  face  against  it  at  either 
end  of  the  space  in  which  she  runs  about.  At  this  signal  there 
is  a  cry  of  "The  Mice  may  play,"  and  they  begin  to  venture  out 
and  across.  If  the  Cat  is  wise  she  will  remain  "away"  a  long 
t  line,  until  the  Mice  are  all  out  and  close  to  her.  She  must  give 
a  "mew"  before  she  stirs,  but  the  moment  after  it  she  may  turu 
round  and  catch  whoever  she  can,  or  even  two  or  three,  and  then 
there  need  be  no  guessing  of  numbers.  The  Mouse  caught  is 
blindfolded  ill  place  of  the  Cat;  and  if  more  than  one  has  been 
caught,  the  Mice  may  expect  hard  times. 


He!  he! 


Ho!  ho! 


Grou-w-w-r-r-r-ow ! ! 


"I  can  not  tell  a  lie.    I  did  it  with  my  little  hatchet." 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


MMM.lllll.......I.....lIlmllll.lli. .  •.•••lllllll...!.. 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


1 1 


VOL.  (V.-NO.  174. 


nv    IIAKI'KK  iV    I5IK  )TII  KUS.  NKW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  February  2T,  1883. 


.    '• 


SI. 50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


— -~ 


. 


"    i.' '      •  ,  ~"    --'..-' 

'      -' 


"BEEN    SKATING,  HEY?"— SEE  POEM  ON  NEXT  PAGE. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  CROSS  OLD  COBBLER. 

BY     JOEL     JORDAN. 
"BEEN  skating,  hey,  my  little  man? 
Mend  your  boot?     Of  course  I  can. 
If  I  clou't  do  it,  well  tanned  you'll  be? 
Come,  here  and  give  your  boot  to  me. 

"You  haven't  coppers  three  and  ten? 
Then  you  must  take  your  boot  again. 
New  soles  your  father's  slippers  had 
This  day  a  week,  my  little  lad. 

"Then  ho,  my  little  man! 
Well  tanned  I'm  sure  3'ou'll  be," 
And  the  cross  old  cobbler  cobbled 
At  the  shoe  upon  his  knee. 


PAWNEE  JOE. 

BY  ELIOT  McCOKMICK. 
I. 

DICK  COOPER'S  father  would  not  let  him  go  to  spend 
a  week  in  Boston ;  in  consequence  of  which  Dick  was 
sullen  and  discontented. 

"There's  nothing  to  do  in  this  dead-and-alive  place," 
he  muttered,  as  he  leaned  over  the  front  gate  and  slung  a 
stone  at  a  passing  dog.  "When  I  get  to  he  twenty-one 
I'll  clear  out  pretty  quick.  There's  the  Pawnee  now,"  as 
a  dark-complexioned  boy  came  up  the  road  toward  the 
house;  "I'm  tired  of  him  and  his  Indian  airs.  Well, 
what  do  you  want  ?"  he  asked,  rudely,  as  the  other  stopped 
at  the  gate. 

The  boy,  who  was  a  tall,  handsome  fellow,  in  spite  of 
his  high  cheek-bones  and  copper  skin,  flushed. 
"  Want  to.iget  in,"  he  said,  simply. 
"  Well,  get  in,"  said  Dick,  still  blocking  up  the  way. 
The  Indian's  face  darkened.      He  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment, then,  placing  one  hand  on  the  paling,  lightly  vaulted 
over  it,  brushing  Dick's  shoulder  as  he  went  by.     Dick 
was  ready  011  his  part  to  pick  a  quarrel  at  the  slightest 
offense. 

"Look  here!"  he,  cried,  turning  quickly  around,  "did 
you  mean  to  hit  me  ?" 

The  Indian  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Don't' make  fool,  Dick,"  he  said. 
Dick's  face  grew  red  with  passion. 

"  Don't  call  me  Dick,  you  Indian  beggar,"  he  cried, 
bringing  his  open  hand  against  the  Pawnee's  cheek.  "  If 
my  father  won't  teach  you  your  place,  I  will." 

The  Pawnee's  eyes  flashed;  he  drew  back  his  arm.  and 
in  another  moment  the  blow  would  have  been  returned, 
had  not  Mr.  Cooper  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

"Fighting  again!''  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  annoy- 
ance. "Education  don't  seem  to  do  much  for  you,  Joe. 
I  guess  I'll  have  to  let  you  go  back  to  Carlisle.  But  if 
Joe  don't  know  any  better,"  turning  to  his  son,  "you 
should;  you  weren't  brought  up  in  a  wigwam." 

Dick  scowled.  "Might  as  well  have  been,"  he  mut- 
tered, "as  in  Stonefleld." 

"Well. "said  Mr.  Cooper,  sternly,  "you've  got  to  stay 
here,  that's  all.  Go  up  to  the  house  now,  and  don't  let 
me  hear  anything  more  from  you.  Joe,  you  come  to  the 
barn,  and  I'll  see  if  I  can't  find  work  enough  to  keep  you 
from  quarrelling." 

The  Pawnee  frowned  darkly,  but  followed  Mr.  Cooper 
without  speaking;  while  Dick  walked  slowly  and  sullenly 
up  to  the  house,  kicking  the  snow  before  him  as  he  went. 
As  he  entered  the  kitchen  he  met  his  little  brother  Harry 
coming  out. 

"Where's  Joe  ?"  the  child  asked,  eagerly. 
Dick  brushed  him  aside.      "  How  do  I  know  where  Joe 
is  ?"  he  exclaimed,  crossly.      "  I  don't  take  care  of  him." 

"I  thought  you  might  have  see.n  him,"  said  the  little 
boy,  timidly. 


"What  if  I  did  ?"  demanded  Dick.  "All  you  think  of 
is  Joe:  he'll  be  scalping  you  some  of  these  days." 

Harry's  lip  quivered.  "Joe  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing," 
he  cried,  indignantly.  ' '  He's  a  good  deal  nicer  than  you 
are,  Dick." 

"Well,  go  to  him,  then,"  cried  Dick,  angrily.  If  you 
are  so  fond'of  him,  go  back  with  him  to  his  tribe  and  be  an 
Indian  yourself." 

Harry  looked  reproachfully  at  his  brother  while  the 
tears  filled  his  great  black  eyes.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  an 
Indian,"  he  half  sobbed.  ' '  Only  Joe's  kind  to  me  and  you 
ain't." 

"Better  go  to  him,  then,"  was  Dick's  only  response  as 
he  went  out  of  the  room  and  slammed  the  door.  Left  to 
himself,  Harry  concluded  to  take  Dick's  advice,  even 
though  it  was  unkindly  meant,  and  find  consolation  in  the 
society  of  his  Indian  friend.  Most  likely  Joe  was  at  the 
barn;  so  putting  on  his  woollen  muffler,  Harry  turned  his 
little  feet  in  that  direction. 

It  was  now  a  year  since  Joe  had  come  from  the  Pawnee 
reservation  in  the  far  West  to  be  a  student  at  the  Carlisle 
training-school.  At  the  beginning  of  the  summer  vaca- 
tion he  had  been  sent  to  Mr.  Cooper's  farm  in  Stonefleld, 
and  though  the  vacation  was  long  since  over  and  the  win- 
ter holidays  had  come,  he  was  still  remaining  at  the  farm. 
Be  was  steady  and  industrious,  and  proved  as  useful  a 
:ielp  as  Mr.  Cooper  ever  had  had;  but  he  did  not  get 
along  with  Dick.  The  boys  were  too  much  alike  in  their 
quick,  passionate  natures  to  pull  together;  though  the  In- 
dian knew  how  to  control  himself  better  than  the  white 
boy,  and  Dick  did  not  hesitate  to  take  an  unfair  advantage 
of  his  own  superior  position,  of  which  Mr.  Cooper  did  not 
always  know.  It  was  clear,  however,  that  if  Dick  staid 
home  from  boarding-school,  Joe  must  go  back  to  Carlisle. 
The  farm,  though  it  covered  a  hundred  acres,  was  not 
large  enough  for  both. 

Little  Harry,  however,  was  the  Pawnee's  firm  friend. 
No  one  knew  so  much  about  the  birds  as  Joe;  or  could 
make  such  alluring  snares  and  traps  for  the  rabbits,  wood- 
chucks,  and  squirrels ;  or  shoot  at  a  mark  with  such  steadi- 
ness of  hand  or  directness  of  aim;  or  tell  in  such  fascina- 
ting broken  English  such  wonderful  stories  of  Indian  life. 
Joe,  too,  in  his  quiet  reserved  way,  seemed  to  return  the 
affection;  and  Mr.  Cooper,  though  he  could  never  rid  him 
self  of  a  lingering  distrust  as  to  Joe's  disposition,  made  no 
objection  to  Harry's  spending  hours  in  his  company.  On 
tliis  particular  afternoon  the  little  boy  found  his  friend  at 
the  barn  with  Mr.  Cooper,  harnessing  one  of  the  horses  into 
the  cutter. 

"Is  Joe  going  to  be  busy  this  afternoon,  papa?"  he 
asked, 

Mr.  Cooper  had  got  in  the  sleigh  and  taken  the  lines. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "Joe  is  going  to  take  Dobbin  with  the 
sled  up  the  mountain  and  bring  down  a  load  of  wood." 

"Oil,  papa!"  the  child  cried,  "can't  I  go  too?  I  can 
help  load  up,  you  know." 

The  father  hesitated.  Harry  bad  been  <>IT  with  Joe 
fifty  times  before — there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
go  this  afternoon. 

"Yes,"  he  said  at  length,  "you  can  go.  <ict  back  be- 
fore dark,  Joe.  We'll  have  some  more  snow,  I  guess,  by 
sundown.  It's  half  past  two,  now."  he  added,  looking  at 
his  watch.  "  I'll  be  home  myself  by  six." 

He  drew  the  robe  tight  around  him.  gave  the  word  to 
the  horse,  and  started  off.  The  sky  was  dark  and  threat- 
ening, and  the  air  was  keen.  Dick's  quarrel  with  the  In- 
dian had  vexed  him,  and  the  recollection  of  Joe's  dark  and 
sullen  face  made  him  wish  more  and  more,  as  he  drove  on, 
that  he  had  directed  Harry  to  stay  at  home.  Joe  should  go 
away  next  Monday;  that,  at  any  rate,  he  had  determined 
upon. 

During  the  entire  drive  his  mind  was  filled  with  these 
disturbing  thoughts,  and  when  at  length,  a  little  before 


FEBKI'AKV   27,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


six  o'clock,  he  turned  in  at  his  own  gate,  it  \vas  with  a  min- 
gled sense  of  relief  and  dread.  Driving  directly  to  the 
barn  lie  called  through  the  dark  for  .loe.  There  was  no 
answer;  and  when  he  opened  the  barn  door  the  u  oud  sled 
was  alisent  and  Dobbin  was  missing  from  his  stall.  Mr. 
(.'noper  tied  up  his  horse,  shut  the  doors,  and  went  quickly 
up  to  the  house.  His  wife  met  him  at  the  door. 

"Where's  Harry;"  she  asked.  "Didn't  he  go  with 
you  :" 

Mr.  ( 'ooper  frowned. 

"Why.  no!"  he  said.  "He  went  to  the  wood  lot  with 
Joe.  Haven't  they  got  hack  yet  :" 

A  surprised  look  came  into  the  mother's  face. 

"I  haven't  seen  anything  of  them."  she  said.  "I 
thought  he  went  with  you.  But  if  he's  with  .loe,  it's  all 
right.  Now  come  to  supper,  and  they'll  he  hen-  In  fore 
\  ou're  hall'  through." 

I'.ut  the  siip)>er  progressed,  and  they  did  not  come. 
Finally,  when  it  drew  near  seven  o'clock.  M  r.  I  'ooper,  who 
had  been  moving  restlessly  about,  took  up  his  hat  and 
coat. 

"Come,  Dick."  he  said,  "I  ain't  going  to  wait  any 
longer.  Fetch  a  lantern,  and  we'll  drive  up  I  he  mountain 
and  lind  out  what's  the  matter 

The  horse  had  not  yet  been  unharnessed,  and  driving 
him  out  of  the  barn,  they  were  quickly  on  their  way. 
Half  a  mile  be\ond  the  house  they  turned  into  the  road 
that  led  over  the  mountain.  nourl\  .-it  the  top  of  uhich 
was  Mr.  ( 'ooper's  wood  lot.  It  had  been  but  little  trav- 
elled since  the  snow  had  fallen,  and  b\  the  light  of  the 
lantern  Dick  had  no  difficulty  in  disrox  mm;  the  fresh 
tracks  made  by  the  heavy  runners  of  ihe  sled  ami  Doh 
bin's  large  feel.  They  led,  however,  up  the  mountain  -  - 
none  appeared  coming  down. 

"They're  ii|i  I  here  yet,"  be  cried,  gelling  back  into  the 
sleigh  ;  "at  least  they  haven't  come  hack  this  road." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  ( 'ooper.  "  there's  no  other  road  unless 
they  go  t  wenly  miles  around." 

l!\  t  his  lime  snow  had  begun  to  fall  light  I  v.  a  ml  it  was 
not  long  bel'oi-e  the  tracks  were  covered.  So  far,  howev 
or,  they  knew  they  were  all  right.  If  they  did  not  meet 
.lor  com  in'.:1  down,  or  lind  him  at  the  lot,  they  could  only 
ooncludi  lh.it  for  some  purpose  he  had  gone  on.  Mr. 
Cooper  urged  Ihe  horse  ahead,  and  the  musical  sleigh- 
bells  echoed  nji  the  mountain  side.  No  answering  echo, 
however,  came  from  the  road  above,  though  they  strained 

their  cars  to  catch  its  jangling  sound. 

l!\  and  by  they  reached  the  wood-lot.  The.  bars  were 
down,  and  Mr.  Cooper  drove  in  toward  the  spot  where  he 
knew  .loe  would  have  gone.  Stopping  the  horse  and  giv- 
ing ihe  reins  to  Dick,  he  jumped  out  himself  with  the  lan- 
tern and  raised  it  above  his  head.  There  at  a  little  dis- 

ta •  stood  the  sled  half  loaded  with  wood.  A  little  way 

ot!'  lay  Dobbin's  harness — all  except  the  headstall  and 
reins.  Mr.  Cooper  strained  his  eyes  through  the  dark- 
ness, but  nothing  more  could  be  seen.  (  )f  Dobbin  and 
the  boys  there  was  not  a  trace. 

"Joe!"  he  called,  as  loud  as  he  could.  "  Harry!''  But 
only  the  mountain  echoed  back  their  names.  What  had 
become  of  them  '.  Why  was  Dobbin  gone,  and  the  har- 
ness and  sled  left  ? 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said.  Dick,  his  voice  shak- 
ing1 with  excitement,  "the  Pawnee  has  carried  oil'  Harry 
on  horseback.  Get  in,  father,  and  we'll  follow  him 
up." 

Mr.  Cooper,  now  greatly  alarmed,  re-entered  the  sleigh. 
and  drove  out  of  the  lot.  The  road,  as  they  went  up  the 
mountain,  greu  steeper  than  ever,  and  was  so  unbroken 
thai  it.  was  with  ditliculty  that  the  horse  could  yet  through. 
The  snow,  too,  \\  as  now  fulling  thickly;  no  tracks  wore 
left  to  guide  them,  and  they  could  only  guess  that  the  boys 
had  gone  this  way.  Presently,  however,  from  the  road 
.ahead  of  them  came  the  whinny  of  a  horse. 


"That's  Dobbin:"    cried  Dick.      "I'd   know   his\ 
anywhere.      We've  got  them  now.  father,  sure!" 

Mr.  Cooper  whipped  up  his  horse.  In  a  moment  n\  .,e 
he  recognized  through  the  darkness  the  familiar  form  oi" 
Dobbin.  Jumping  down  from  the  sleigh,  he  found  the 
animal  tied  by  the  reins  to  the  fence. 

"Joe!"  he  cried  once  more.      "Harry!" 

There  was  no  reply.  Mr.  Cooper  turned  with  a  face  as 
white  as  the  falling  snow  to  his  son. 

"Here  is  the  horse!"  he  cried.  "  But  where  are  Harry 
and  the  Pawnee 

II. 

It  had  not  taken  Joe  long,  after  Mr.  Cooper's  departure, 
to  harness  Dobbin  in  the  wood  sled,  and  with  his  little  com- 
panion get  under  way.  lie  was  glad  to  escape  for  an  aft- 
ernoon from  the  farm,  and  the  chance  of  encountering 
Dick.  Why  did  Dick  want  to  quarrel  with  him  '.  he  won- 
dered ;  and  why  did  Mr.  Cooper  always  take  Dick's  part  ''. 
The  thought  of  that  afternoon's  trouble  made  him  feel 
sad. 

But  now  that  he  was  off  for  the  afternoon,  with  Har- 
ry to  keep  him  company,  he  would  not  be  distressed  any 
longer.  \\\^  spirits  rose,  and  he  was  soon  talking  about, 
himself,  and  his  life  at  the  West,  and  his  hopes  for  the 
future,  as  only  Harry  knew  he  could  talk.  In  a  little 
while-  they  were  toiling  up  the  mountain  road,  and  after 
some  iimc  and  effort  on  Dobbin's  part  reached  the  lot. 
The  wood  uas  already  cut,  and  all  the  boys  had  to  do 
was  to  pile  it  in  Ihe  carl.  At  first  Harry  did  his  part 

eagerly,   but    lie    s grew    tired,  and    pulling   his   cold 

hands  in  his  pockets,  watched  Joe  place  the  slicks  in  an 
orderly  pile.  Presently  he  recollected  that  when  they 
uere  there  a  few  days  before  Joe  had  set  one  or  two 
snares. 

"I  >h.  .loe, "he  cried.  "I'm  going  to  see  if  those  snares 
have  caught  anything." 

The  Indian  Straightened  up.  "Don't  get  lose."  he  said, 
gravely.  "]  make  finish  hero  pretty  soon.  Must  get 
home  before  dark,  father  said." 

"()h.  I  won't  get  lost, "the  little  boy  said,  "and  I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute." 

Joe  watched  the  sturdy  little  figure  tramp  out  of  the 
lot.  ami  then,  with  a  warm  glow  at  his  heart,  bent  again 
to  his  \\ork.  Somebody  cared  for  him  after  all.  When 
Dick  struck  him  thai  afternoon  his  heart  had  been  full  of 
hate.  But  now  everything  seemed  different.  He  could 
even  forgive  Dick,  for  Dick  was  Harry's  brother.  Even 
his  work  was  lighter,  and  he  lifted  a  great  armful  of 
wood  without  feeling  its  weight.  As  he  transferred  it  to 
the  sled,  the  ring  of  sleigh-bells  attracted  his  attention. 
Looking  out  toward  the  road,  he  saw  a  cutter  with  two 
men  pass  rapidly  by.  A  moment  later  the  ring  stopped, 
and  at  the  same  instant  a  hoy's  scream  pierced  the  air. 
Then  the  bells  began  again;  and  rushing  out  of  the  lot. 
Joe  could  see  the  sleigh  disappearing  around  a  turn  in 
the  road.  As  he  listened,  another  scream,  half-suppress- 
ed, came  back  on  the  air.  In  the  snow  ahead  lay  a  black 
object  which  he  recognized  as  Harry's  cap.  It  did  not 
need  that,  however,  to  tell  him  that  the  men  in  the  sleigh 
were  kidnappers,  and  Harry  had  been  carried  off. 

Running  back  to  the  sled  with  all  possible  speed,  Joe 
hurriedly  unharnessed  Dobbin,  leaving  only  the  headsta  II 
by  which  he  might  be  driven,  and  jumping  on  his  back, 
urged  the  old  horse  up  the  road.  It  was  a  steep  pull  yet 
to  the  top,  and  the  snow  was  heavy.  Dobbin  floundered 
along  as  though  he  had  weights  to  his  feet,  and  before  he 
had  gone  half  a  mile  began  to  show  signs  of  distress. 
Finally  he  came  down  to  a  walk,  and  not  all  of  Joe's 
spurring  could  persuade  him  to  go  faster.  It  was  quite 
clear  that  in  this  way  Joe  could  not  hope  to  overtake  the 
sleigh.  Among  the  boys  of  his  tribe,  however,  he  had 
always  been  one  of  the  fleetest  runners,  and  even  without 
a  horse  he  did  not  despair  of  keeping  up  with  the  fugi- 


260 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


tives.  Guiding  Dobbin  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  tying 
him  to  the  bars,  lie  set  off  himself  011  an  easy  run  toward 
the  top  of  the  mountain,  which  now  lay  only  a  few  rods 
ahead.  The  road  wound  so  that  he  could  not  see  any  dis- 
tance, but  he  knew  there  was  no  cross-road  before  reach- 
ing the  foot  of  the  mountain.  He  pushed  forward  over 
the  level  on  top  of  the  mountain,  and  down  the  other  side, 
until,  through  an  opening  in  the  wood,  he  could  see  the 
little  railroad  station  in  the  valley  below. 

Joe's  heart  stood  still  as  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to 
him.  What  if  the  men  should  escape  by  the  railroad? 
There  was  a  train  clue  before  long — that  Joe  knew  because 
he  had  come  in  it  himself — and  if  they  got  off  by  that,  how 
could  he  hope  to  overtake  them  ?  He  might  be  able  to 
run  as  fast  as  a  horse,  but  he  could  not  keep  up  with  a 
locomotive.  But  if  he  could  only  get  to  the  station  be- 
fore the  train  he  might  capture  them  there.  This  thought 
lent  new  energy  to  his  purpose,  and  swiftness  to  his  feet. 
Nearer  and  nearer  he  drew  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
and  the  railroad.  In  five  minutes  more  he  would  be  at 
the  station.  All  at  once  his  quick  ear  caught  the  sound 
of  a  whistle,  and  presently  he  heard  the  rumble  of  an  ap- 
proaching train.  He  rushed  forward  with  added  speed, 
but  the  distance  was  too  great.  The  train  slackened, 
stopped,  and  then  went  on  again.  When  Joe  dashed 
down  to  the  track,  it  was  only  a  speck  in  the  distance. 

Perhaps,  however,  the  men  had  not  taken  the  train. 
The  station-master,  who  was  standing  on  the  platform, 
would  know  this,  and  hurrying  up  to  him,  Joe  asked,  in 
his  broken  English,  "  Did  you  seen  a  sleigh  with  two  men 
into  it  and  a  little  boy  ?" 

The  man  looked  at  him  curiously  and  with  great  delib- 
eration. "Sleigh!"  he  questioned.  "Yes,  I  did  see  a 
sleigh  about  ten  minutes  ago.  It's  gone  on,"  he  added. 
"Any  of  your  friends  in  it  ?" 

"Yes,"  cried  Joe,  excitedly,  "the  little  boy  he  is  my 
friend.  Which  way  did  it  went  ?" 

"  Oh  !  the  little  boy,"  said  the  man.  "Well,  he  didn't 
go  in  the  sleigh." 

"No?"  exclaimed  the  Indian.  "  But  where  did  he 
went?" 

"  Well,  the  boy  and  one  of  the  men  went  in  the  train," 


PAWNEE  JOE 


PURSITIT    OF    THE    KIDNAPPERS. 


observed  the  man,  now  seeming  to  grow  interested .  ' '  Was 
anything  wrong?"  he  asked.  "I  didn't  like  the  looks  of 
the  fellow  myself,  and  the  child  seemed  scared,  but  it 
weren't  my  place  to  interfere." 

"They  was  thieves!"   the  Indian  cried,  stamping  his 
foot.      "  Kid — what  do  you  call  it  ?" 
"  Kidnappers,"  suggested  the  man. 
"Yes,"  cried  Joe,  "kidnappers.     They  have   stealed 
Mr.  Cooper's  little  boy;  and  now  they  have  went  off  by 
the  cars.      Where  do  they  went  ?     Did  they  buy  ticket?" 
"Why,   yes,"   said   the   man,    "I   sold   them   a   ticket 
for  Middletield  :    that's   as   far   as   they  can   go   by  that 
train." 

"Ah!"  cried  the  Indian,  "and  can  I  went  after  them? 
Is  there  more  trains  ?" 
The  man  nodded. 

"There's  an  express  that  goes  by  here  in  an  hour,"  he 
said.  "You  can  take  that,  and  get  there  almost  as  soon 
as  they.  But  I  'low  they'll  get  off  at  Baker's  Corners, 
and  take  the  train  to  Boston  there.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do — you're  Mr.  Cooper's  Indian  boy,  ain't  you  ?" 
"Yes,"  said  Joe,  gravely,  "Pawnee." 
"Well,"  said  the  other,  "then  I  guess  it's  all  right. 
I'll  telegraph  along  the  road  to  stop  the  man  wherever  he 
gets  out,  and  hold  him  until  you  come.  If  it's  a  station 
where  your  train  don't  stop,  I'll  tell  them  to  flag  you. 
But  I  'low  it  '11  lie  Baker's  Corners.  Feller  didn't  think 
you'd  follow  him  so  close,  I  guess." 

An  hour  later  Joe  was  again  in  swift  pursuit.  The 
conductor  had  been  told  the  circumstance  by  the  station- 
master,  and  would  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  flag,  or  ready  to 
assist  Joe  if  they  should  overtake  the  man  at  Baker's. 
As  the  train  flew  on  the  Indian's  thoughts  went  back  to 
the  house  at  Stonefield.  What  would  they  think,  he  won- 
dered, when  Harry  did  not  come  back  ?  How  frightened 
they  would  be!  His  heart  beat  the  faster  as  he  began  to 
share  their  alarm,  and  to  fear,  on  his  own  part,  that  after  all 
the  man  might  escape  him.  How  could  he  go  back  with- 
out Harry  ?  and  if  he  did  not  go  back,  might  they  not  be- 
lieve that  he  had  stolen  Harry  himself  ?  Station  after  sta- 
tion went  by  without  showing  any  flag,  and  at  length  the 
train  drew  near  to  the  Corners.  Would  Harry  be  there  ? 

Presently  the  brakes  were 
put  on, and  the  wheels  slack- 
ened their  speed.  From  the 
window  Joe  could  see  a 
crowd  on  the  platform. 
Rushing  out  of  the  car,  and 
jumping  off  the  steps,  he 
pushed  through  the  crowd. 
There  in  the  grasp  of  a  sta- 
tion official  stood  a  hard- 
featured  man,  and  near  by 
a  small  hatless  boy,  who, 
when  he  saw  the  Indian, 
rushed  with  a  loud  cry  of  de- 
light into  his  friendly  arms. 
"Oh,  Joe,"'  he  exclaimed, 
rapturously,  "I  knew  \  o" 
wouldn't  let  me  be  carried 
off!" 


As  long  as  lie  lives  Dick 
Cooper  will  never  forget  the 
terror  of  that  search  aft- 
er his  little  brother.  The 
gloom  and  silence  of  the 
woods,  the  noiseless  fall  of 
the  snow,  the  echo  of  their 
own  cries,  the  disappoint- 
ment which  met  them  at 
every  step,  made  it  an  ex- 
perience always  to  be  re- 


I'EHKUARY  27,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


261 


mi -inhered  with  dread.  They  hunted  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Dobbin,  but  could  find  no  trace  Ibere.  and  tln-n  \\ent 
buck  and  explored  the  wood  lot  u  illi  equal  lack  of  success. 
Finally  Mr.  Cooper  gave  it  up.  and  the  unhappy  father 
and  his  remaining  son  got  into  tin-  sleigh  and  drove  drear- 
ily toward  borne. 

•  'We  can't  find  them,"  said  Mr.  Cooper,  gloomily,  as  he 

entered  tlie  kitchen. 

His  wife  did  not  display  any  particular  surprise.      'No, 

of  course  \o"  couldn't,"  she'  said,  calmly.  "I  told  you 
then-  wasn't  any  use  in  going." 

"  What  do  you  mean  !"   ber  husband  ask.',] 

"Wh\,  1  mean  the  child  was  sale  enough  \\iili  Joe. 
Thai's  what  I  said  before  \oii  v.ent  out.  Head  that  tele 
gram,"  she  added,  handing  him  a  bit  of  In-own  paper-. 

Mr.  Cooper  took    it    mechanically,  and   read   it.  while  a 
look  of  relief  spread  over  his  countenance. 

"Thank  God  !"  he  said, 
reverently  ;  and  sitting 
dou  n.  he  covered  his  face 
with  hi>  ha  mU. 

Dick  picked  up  the  pa- 
per, and  read  these  words: 

'•  I!  u;rjic'<  >  "\:\i  i:>.  .Am.—. 
'•  Ml',  .lull  II    t  •„.,/!,  ;',    .S/.//M  //',«.- 
"    Yolir     Mill,    -.Inlell     by     two 

Mini.  ;nnl  re-.eiii>ii   hy   Indian 

boy  \vh<>   followed  them   here. 
.Meet  liini  and  Indian  :il  Slum 
lii-ld  Depot  nine  o'clock. 


me  if  I  hollered  or  told  anybody,  and  they  were  going 
to  take  me  so  far  off  that  I  couldn't  ever  have  not  back 
again.  I  was  awfully  scared,  but  the  minute  I  saw  Joe,  I 
knew  it  was  all  right.  Nobody  could  hurt  me  then,"  In- 
added,  looking  up  confidently  into  the  Indian's  dark  eyes. 

Meanwhile,  Dick  had  conn-  slouly  forward. 

"Look  here.  ,loe."  lie  said,  awkwardly.  "I've  tread  d 
you  mean  a  good  man}  t  imes.  I  behaved  like  a  brute  this 
afternoon.  I  dare  say  you  bate  me,  but  I'm  sorry  for  it 
all  the  same." 

A  flush  of  color  came  into  Hie  Pawnee's  face. 

"I  did  mean  too."  lie  said,  simply,  "  and  I  sorry  for  it. 
But  we  good  friends  now." 

The  hoys  shook  bands  warmly,  while  Harry  looked  on 
with  approving  satisfaction. 

"It  was  worth  while  being  stolen."  he  whispered,  delighl 
edly,  to  his  mother,  "  for  the  sake  of  bringing  Dick  around." 


Tin-  boy  walked  over  to 
the  window  and  leaned  his 
head  against  the  pane.  Not 
only  was  his  little  brother 
sale,  bill  it  was  the  Indian 
who  had  saved  him.  Like 
a  great  black  wall  all  the 
bail  and  angry  thoughts  he 
had  been  entertaining  rose 
up  before  him.  How  wick- 
ed he  had  been  !  ho\v  un- 
kind to  Harry  !  how  mean 
a  nd  michai'ita  bio  to  .loo ! 
His  conscience  convicted 

him,  and  be  could  not  say 
a  word  in  his  own  defense. 
Indeed,  lie  did  not  want  to 
defend  himself.  Itrelieved 
him  to  confess  his  fault. 
Turning  abruptly  round, 
In-  came  over  to  where  his 
father  was  sitting.  His 
face  was  flushed,  and  there 
were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  father,''  he  cried, 
' '  I've  been  awfully  wicked ! 
I've  hated  Joe.  I  struck 

him  first  this  afternoon.     I've  made  him  mad  lots  of  times. 
I  made  you  think  he  had  taken  Harry  away." 

Mr.  Cooper  looked  gravely  up  at  the  distressed  boy. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "I'm  glad  to  hear  you  acknowledge  it. 
But  you'd  better  tell  Joe.  I'm  going  to  the  depot  for 
them  now." 

As  the  father  left  the  room  Dick  went  back  to  the  win- 
dow. How  could  he  tell  Joe  ?  He  knew  that  he  could 
never  feel  easy  until  he  did;  but  how  should  he  ask  the 
Indian  to  forgive  him  ?  He  stood  there  debating  the  ques- 
tion a  long  time,  until  at  length  he  heard  the  bells  of  the 
returning  sleigh.  His  mother  opened  the  door,  and  in  a 
moment  her  little  boy  was  folded  in  her  arms. 

"Oh,  mamma!"  he  cried,  "the  men  told  me  they'd  kill 


'THIS 


OUR    COMPACT    OF   ETERNAL    FRIENDSHIP— NAN'S    AND    MINE.'' 


.N  A  N.* 


BY  MRS.  i.rrv  c.  LILUE. 

AUTHOR  OF  "MILIJREI/S  BARGAIN,"  "AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

T)HILIP'S  absence  from  home  was  an  unexpected  disap- 
JL  pointment  to  Nan ;  but  the  reason  for  it  gave  her  some 
comfort.  It  appeared  that  he  had  developed  a  decided 
talent  for  painting,  and  so  had  been  sent  abroad  by  the 
same  gentleman  who  was  paying  all  his  expenses. 

*  Begun  in  No.  1ST,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


262 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  Rupert,  as  she  and  Nan  were  at 
work  the  next  morning;  in  the  kitchen,  "  it's  wonderful  the 
fancy  that  Mr.  Field's  took  to  Philip.  Just  saw  him  a  few 
times,  and  put  him  to  Barnabas;  and  now  sent  him  abroad. 
He  says  he'll  do  well.  Now  Marian,  slie's  doing  splendid, 
if  only  they  don't  turn  her  head  with  compliments.  She's 
so  good-looking  and  so  stylish." 

Nan  listened,  thinking  more  of  Philip  than  of  Ma- 
rian. She  wondered  if  he  would  ever  do  anything,  or 
seem  to  do  anything,  to  cause  Mr.  Field  to  send  him  home 
in  disgrace.  She  hoped  that  no  such  fate  would  befall 
him. 

4 '  Now,  Nan,  work  smart, "  called  out  Mrs.  Rupert ;  ' '  your 
teacher  '11  be  here  soon."  And  Nan  hurried  with  the 
breakfast  dishes,  so  that  she  was  ready  for  her  new  teacher 
by  nine  o'clock. 

Miss  Rolf  evidently  had  employed  some  one  to  engage 
this  governess  —  a  gentle,  quiet-looking  lady  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  who  beiran  the  lessons  without  any  questions 
as  to  Nan's  recent  life.  Altogether,  the  morning  was  not 
unhappy,  except  that  Nan  had  grown  so  painfully  con- 
scious of  the  dust  and  disorder  about  her  that  she  watched 
Mrs.  Leigh's  glance  every  time  it  rested  on  any  one  ob- 
ject with  a  deep  sense  of  mortification. 

But  good  came  of  this.  Nan  felt  certain  she  might 
make  something  of  the  room;  for  her  ideas  had  developed 
greatly  since  she  left  Bromfield  as  to  household  matters. 
Accordingly,  to  Mrs.  Rupert's  great  surprise,  she  asked 
permission  to  have  the  sitting-room  to  herself  for  an  hour 
before  the  children  returned  from  school ;  and  it  was  won- 
derful what  she  contrived  to  do.  Soap  and  water,  dusters, 
and  a  broom  made  the  place  seem  entirely  different.  And 
then  Nan  begged  to  be  allowed  to  hunt  in  the  attic  for 
some  bits  of  carpet.  These  she  managed  to  sew  in  patches 
under  the  ragged  places,  and  after  mending  a  few  tears  in 
the  curtains  she  felt  quite  triumphant.  It  mattered  some- 
what, however,  that  Mrs.  Rupert  and  Marian  laughed  at 
her,  and  that  the  children  coming  home  created  fresh  dis- 
order; but  still  she  felt  conscious  of  well-doing. 

When,  after  dinner,  Nan  carried  her  books  up  to  her 
little  attic  room,  she  was  cheered  by  a  feeling  that,  in  spite 
of  the  misery  of  her  false  position,  she  could  do  some- 
thing. She  would  set  herself  to  make  the  shabby  house 
brighter  and  cleaner  and  more  home-like.  After  a  time 
Mrs.  Rupert  and  Marian  would  feel  differently  about  her 
motives  in  so  doing. 

No  one  must  suppose  that  Nan  worked  wonders  sudden- 
ly, nor  that  she  grew  very  happy  in  doing  her  little  work. 
On  the  contrary,  it  was  a  tedious  process  all  around.  It 
was  hard  to  keep  any  place  tidy  or  even  tolerably  comfort- 
able. And  her  heart  ached  for  news  of  Beverley.  Miss 
Rolf  wrote,  but  only  to  send  her  board  and  the  money 
needful  for  her  expenses;  and  as  October  and  November 
dragged  by,  Nan's  loneliness  increased.  Nothing  could 
have  been  much  more  comfortless  as  a  home  than  the 
Rupert  household;  and  Nan  used  to  think  the  "waiting- 
time"  was  more  than  she  could  bear. 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

PHYLLIS  only  knew  the  reason  why  Miss  Rolf  had  sent 
Nan  to  Bromfield,  and  as  the  winter  wore  on  it  puzzled 
and  perplexed  iier  more  and  more.  She  had  seen  a  great 
many  evidences  of  what  she  considered  a  "common  taste" 
in  Nan,  but  never  anything  like  untruthfulness  or  dis- 
honesty. 

But  if  Phyllis  was  unhappy,  Miss  Rolf  was  doubly  so. 
She  felt  a  strong  purpose  taken  right  out  of  her  life,  and 
it  was  hardening  her  into  the  cold,  reserved  woman  she 
had  been  so  long  before  Nan  crept  into  her  heart. 

One  afternoon  shortly  before  Christmas  Phyllis  was 
sitting  alone  in  her  own  room  by  the  fire,  busily  working 
on  some  present  for  the  approaching  festivity,  when  she 
heard  some  one  in  the  adjoining  room  sobbing'.  It  was 


Joan,  who  appeared  with  a  piece  of  crumpled  paper  in  her 
hands,  exclaiming: 

"Oh,  Phyl,  this  makes  me  so  unhappy!  See,  this  is 
our  compact  of  eternal  friendship — Nan's  and  mine — and 
it's  as  bad  as  telling  a  lie  never  to  write  to  her." 

Joan  held  out  the  little  paper  she  and  Nan  had  written 
that  May  afternoon  so  long  ago;  and  as  Phyllis  read  it, 
the  words  so  innocently  written,  "  God  bless  this,''  awak- 
ened new  belief  in  the  child's  honesty.  Phyllis  comforted 
Joan,  all  the  time  revolving  the  question  in  her  mind,  and 
was  suddenly  startled  by  hearing  Joan  say, 

"Where  has  Laura  gone,  do  you  know?  and  may  I 
have  this  to  make  Nan  a  Christmas  present?'' 

She  held  up  a  piece  of  pink  satin,  from  which  some  bits 
had  been  cut,  and  a  yard  or  two  of  Valenciennes  lace. 

"Where  did  you  get  that,  Joan  ?"  exclaimed  Phyllis. 

"In  the  other  room,"  explained  the  tearful  Joan,  "in  a 
little  broken  box  on  the  floor. " 

Phyllis  made  no  answer;  she  arose  and  went  into  the 
next  room,  closing  the  door  after  her.  It  was  a  room 
rarely  used;  but  since  Laura  had  been  so  delicate  she  had 
often  slept  there  to  be  near  Phyllis,  and  used  it  in  the 
daytime  to  sit  in,  so  that  her  things  were  often  about. 
The  box  of  which  Joan  spoke  lay  half  in  half  out  of  the 
flounce  of  the  chintz  lounge.  Phyllis  drew  it  out  with 
trembling  hands. 

There  was  no  mistaking  its  contents.  They  were  cer- 
tainly in  part  the  articles  charged  to  Nan  at  Ames's. 
store. 

Phyllis  hardly  knew  what  to  think.  All  that  she  could 
feel  sure  of  was  that  Laura  was  involved  in  the  all'air. 
but  how  far  she  could  not  tell.  One  thing,  she  knew, 
must  be  done  at  once — that  was  to  find  Laura  and  make 
her  explain  it. 

Poor  Phyllis!  Pride  had  always  been  her  strongest 
point,  and  belief  in  the  uprightness  of  the  children  she 
had  in  reality  brought  up  was  almost  a  sacred  thing  to 
her.  How  could  she  face  Miss  Rolf  and  say,  "It  is  my 
little  sister  who  has  at  least  been  involved  in  this,  not 
only  poor  Nan,  whom  we  pitied  because  she  had  been  bad- 
ly brought  up?"  And  then  there  flashed  upon  Phyllis  a 
sickening  feeling  lest  through  Laura  gross  injustice  had 
been  done  poor  Nan. 

"Joan," she  said,  looking  in  upon  her  little  sister,  "if 
Laura  has  gone  out  it  must  have  been  to  Rolf  House,  as 
she  never  goes  anywhere  else.  I'm  going  there  at  once — 
and  don't  let  them  wait  tea  for  me.  I'll  be  back  as  early 
as  I  can." 

Whatever  Phyllis's  faults  may  have  been,  her  sense  of 
what  was  justly  due  under  such  circumstances  was  kern 
and  pure.  Though  feeling  half  ill  with  dread  of  what  she 
might  discover,  she  put  on  her  things  and  walked  quickly 
up  College  Street  to  Rolf  House.  Her  first  inquiry  was  if 
Laura  were  there,  and  the  answer,  "Yes,  miss,  she  is  read- 
ing in  the  library,"  sent  a  new  flutter  to  her  heart.  But 
she  walked  straight  into  the  room  where  Laura,  looking 
very  white,  and  languid,  was  lounging  with  a  book  before 
the  fire. 

"Laura."  the  elder  sister  said,  going  up  to  the  little  girl 
and  kneeling  down  beside  her,  "I  want  you  to  tell  me  at 
once,  dear,  how  you  came  by  all  those  things  Nan  was 
supposed  to  have  bought  at  Ames's." 

Laura  stared  a  moment,  and  then  burst  into  tears;  but 
to  Phyllis's  amazement  it  seemed  a  relieved  sort  of  weep- 
ing. She  rocked  back  and  forth  a  moment,  and  then  ex- 
claimed between  her  sobs: 

"Oh,  Phyl!  Phyl !  have  you  found  out  ?  I'm  so  glad  ! 
I've  come  here  day  after  day  trying  to  confess  it.  Oh,  I 
know  how  bad  I  am— and  Nan  is  so  good!" 

Phyllis  knelt  very  quietly  by  her  little  sister  a  moment; 
then  she  said,  "  Lollie,  try  and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

And  then  the  miserable  story  came  out.  The  girls  at 
school,  Laura  said,  were.-  in  the  habit  of  wearing  so  many 


FEBRUARY  27,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


263 


little  bits  of  finery,  such  as  she  never  possessed;  and  one 
day,  having  saved  her  pocket-money  for  a  special  ribbon, 
she  went  into  Ames's  and  bought  it.  Just  as  she  \\  as 
about,  to  pay  for  it,  the  clerk  said,  "Aren't  y  on  Miss  Rolf's 
niece,  who  lias  tilings  charged  to  her  ;" 

Poor  Laura!  it  was  her  first  moment  of  temptation. 
She  answered  yes;  had  the  ribbon  charged,  meaning  to 
pay  for  it  later,  as  in  her  ignorance  of  such  matters  she  be- 
lieved she  could;  and  then,  little  by  little  the  fascination 
for  buying,  "like  the  other  girls,''  grew  upon  her.  She 
kept  hoping  always  to  save  money  before  the  cud  of  the 
year  to  pay  it  up,  believing  the  bill  would  not  lie  present- 
ed until  January.  It  was,  indeed,  only  by  a  chance  that 
Miss  Roll'  had  asked  for  it  earlier.  Then  had  com.-  a  <!<•> 
perale  lit  of  terror,  and  believing  Nan  would  be  forgiven, 
she  had  meanly  kept  silence.  What  followed.  Phyllis 
knew.  Certainly  Laura  told  the  whole  .-lory  now  unre- 
servedly. 

It  seemed  to  Phyllis  in  that  hour  as  though  -omeiliing 
in  her  very  heart  gave  way.  Nan.  for  whom  they  had  all 
secretly  entertained  a  feeling  that  she  was  not  their  equal 

Nan   had   shown   herself   the  hravc-t    and    most    upright 

of  all. 

''Laura,"  said  poor  Phyllis,  "you  must  tell  Cousin 
Letly."  Laura  gave  a  gasp,  and  put  out  a  detaining  hand 
as  Phyllis  was  moving.  "  I  will  go  first,  and  speak  to 
her  about  it;  but  she  must  know  at  once.  There  must 
not  be  a  moment  lost/' 

Laura    -ohbed    more    violently    than    ever;   and    I'i. 
went  away  and  across  to   I  he  black  walnut   parlor,  where 
she  uas  tolerably  sure  to  liml   her  cousin. 

There  the  old  lad  y  was  sealed,  w  it  h  listless!  y  folded  hands, 
in  the  window  where  Nan  had  made  out  her  accounts  that 
first  evening.  She  was  looking  across  the  wintry  garden 
beds,  and  thinking  of  the  lost  child  who  had  been  so  dear 
to  her,  who  had  come  in  her  lonely  old  age  to  open  the 
secret  springs  of  love  in  her  heart. 

Phyllis  had  a  choking  feeling  in  her  throat  as  she  went, 
in,  and  for  a  moment  she  could  hardly  speak.  But  no- 
thing could  have  been  he-tier  than  her  lir>l  words: 

"Oh.  Cousin  Letitia,  I  know  all  about  it!  Nan  Nan 
is  perfectly  innocent!  She-  never  deceived  you,  except 
that  she  did  not  tell  what  she  knew  of  others." 

[TO    UK    CovilxrKII.] 


THE  TAILOR'S  APPRENTICE. 


"  \\  r^EN  shall  we  know  that  the  enemy  has  ^-i  veil  in  ;" 
Y  Y  asked  a  lad  who  had  once  been  a  tailor's  appren- 
tice, but  had  afterward  entered  the  British  navy,  as  a 
common  boy.  about  the  year  KSStl. 

"When  that  flag  is  hauled  down."  answered  the  sailor 
addressed,  "the  ship  will  be  ours." 

"Oh.  if  that's  all,  I'll  see  what  1  can  do  '." 

The  vessel  on  which  the  speakers  stood  had  had  the 
fortune,  a  few  hours  earlier,  to  fall  in  with  a,  French  squad- 
ron. and  a  warm  action,  bravely  fought  on  both  sides, 
was  maintained.  After  a  time  the  boy  had  become  impa- 
tient for  the  result,  and  addressed  the  above  question  to  a 
sailor.  No  sooner  was  he  told  that  the  withdrawal  of  the 
Hair  from  the  enemy's  mast-head  would  be  the  signal  that 
the  action  had  been  decided  than  he  determined  to  ''see 
what  he  could  do." 

At  that  moment  the  vessels  were  engaged  yard-arm  to 
yard  arm,  and  were  obscured  in  the  smoke  of  the  guns. 
In  an  instant  the  boy  mounted  the  shrouds,  passed  from 
the  yard  of  his  own  ship  to  that  of  the  enemy,  ascended 
with  agility  to  the  maintop-gallant-mast-head,  struck  and 
carried  oil'  the  French  flag  unperceived,  and  got  back  to 
the  yard-arm  of  his  own  ship  in  safety. 

Before  he  could  get  down  to  the  deck  the  British  saw 
that  the  flag  had  disappeared,  and  shouted,  "Victory! 
victory  !"  The  French  crew,  seeing  also  that  the  flag  was 


gone,  and  thinking  that  it  had  been  struck  by  order  of  the 
Admiral,  fled  from  their  guns;  and  although  the  officers 
attempted  to  rally  them,  the  confusion  was  hopeless. 
Then  the  British,  availing  themselves  of  the  opportunity, 
boarded  the  French  vessel,  and  captured  it. 

In  the  mid-t  of  the  excitement  the  new  boy  came  down 
from  the  shrouds  with  the  French  tlag  wrapped  round  his 
body,  and  displayed  it  with  no  little  glee  to  the  astonished 
tars.  The  news  spread  quickly  to  the  quarter-deck,  and 
the  blushing  boy  was  led  into  1  he  presence  of  the  Admiral, 
who  ] i raised  him  for  his  gallantry,  and  rated  him  there  and 
then  as  midshipman. 

It  was  not  long  before  promotion  followed  promotion, 
and  the  tailor's  apprentice  became  known  as  one  of  Eng- 
land's most  gallant  sailors. 


1'KRIL   AND   PRIVATION. 

BY  JAMES  I'AYX. 


THE  nruMNc  <IF  THE  -NEW  HUUNV 

11MI.LIAM  BoNTKk'oK.  a  Dutchman,  wlio  sailed  from 
T  ^  the  Texel  as  Captain  of  the  Xi'ir  Horn  in  the  winter 
of  I  ill*,  has  left  behind  him  an  interesting  record  of  the 
fate  of  that  unhappy  ship.  The  catastrophe  which  de- 
stroyed it  uas  all  the  more  terrible  as  up  to  that  point  the1 
voyage  had  been  a  singularly  fortunate  one. 

The  crew  had  still'ered  from  sickness,  it  is  true,  but  they 
found  on  the  island  of  Masearenhas,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Madagascar,  a  natural  health  resort  of  quite  a  surprising 
kind.  No  sooner  had  they  landed  than  such  as  were  able 
"rolled  themselves  on  the  grass."  from  which  alone  they 
seemed  to  receive  an  immediate  benefit.  The  blue  pi- 
gee. us  overhead  were  so  lame  that  they  were  taken  by  the 
hand,  and  two  hundred  of  them  killed  and  roasted  the 
first  day,  which  to  the  seamen  who  bad  been  so  long  used 
to  .-alt  meat  was  a  banquet  beyond  expression.  Other 
birds  had  only  to  be  caught,  and  (heir  cries  brought  whole 
Hocks  within  easy  reach.  Turtle  were  so  plentiful  that 
as  many  as  twenty-  live  were  found  under  a  single  tree. 
They  filled  their  casks  at  a  fresh-water  river,  "with  banks 
covered  with  trees  in  regular  order,  presenting  such  a 
beautiful  view  that  nothing  in  the  world  could  be  more 
delightful." 

This  "summer  isle  of  Kden"  was  uninhabited  save  by 
the  gentlest  arid  most  nourishing  creatures,  and  even  from 
the  palm-trees  there  flowed  a  mild  and  nourishing  liquid. 
The  water  round  the  island  was  so  crystal  clear  that 
through  seven  and  even  eight  fathoms  they  could  dis- 
tinctly see  the  bottom.  All  the  sick  were  cured  here  in  a, 
very  short  time,  and  returned  on  board  not  without  great 
unwillingness. 

At  St.  Mary's  Isle,  a  few  days'  sail  from  this,  they  met 
with  some  pleasant  savages,  who,  understanding  nothing 
of  their  language,  "  imitated  the  cries  of  cattle,  sheep,  and 
poultry,  to  inform  them  that  such  supplies  were  at  their 
i  disposal.  They  brought  them  milk  in  baskets  made  of 
leaves  so  closely  interwoven  that  it  was  drawn  off.  by  a 
hole  pierced  through.  Among  the  crew  was  a  man  who 
played  the  violin,  and  who  put  these  simple  people  fairly 
beside  themselves  with  the  delights  of  his  music. 

The  crew  of  the  New  Horn  had  altogether  a  very  plea- 
sant voyage  until  one  evening,  in  the  latitude  of  the  Straits 
of  Sunda,  the  dreadful  cry  of  "fire!"  was  raised.  The 
steward  had  gone  below  decks  with  a  candle  to  fill  his  keg 
with  brandy,  "that  a  small  glass  might  be  served  out  to 
each  person  in  the  morning,  according  to  the  Dutch  fash- 
ion," and  a  spark  from  the  wick  had  fallen  into  the  bung- 
hole.  The  flames  blew  out  the  ends  of  the  cask,  and  set 
fire  to  some  coal  underneath  it,  the  smoke  from  which 
was  unendurable.  Upon  this  the  Captain  ordered  the 
powder  to  be  thrown  overboard,  to  which  the  supercargo, 
who  was  answerable  to  the  owner  of  the  ship,  "would  not 


261 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


consent."  The  launch  and  cutter  were  lowered  to  clear 
the  decks,  and  into  these  many  of  the  crew  quietly  slipped 
by  the  chain-wale,  or  swam  to  them,  having-  dropped  into 
the  sea.  Presently,  while  the  poor  Captain  was  battling 
with  the  smoke  and  flame,  one  of  the  sailors  runs  up  to 
him,  and  exclaims,  "Dear  Captain,  what  are  we  to  do 
now?  the  launch  and  cutter  have  deserted  us."  Which 
indeed  they  had.  For  the  moment  he  was  transported 
with  rage,  and  hoisted  all  sail  in  hopes  of  running-  them 
down,  which,  in  truth,  they  richly  deserved;  "but  within 


THE    FIRE    BEACHES    THE    POWDER. 

about  three  ships'  lengths  they  got  the  weather-gauge,and 
escaped." 

What  a  dramatic  scene!  The  burning-  ship,  with  its 
tenants,  within  a  few  minutes  of  a  horrible  death,  yet  fill- 
ed with  the  desire  of  revenge,  and  the  miserable  desert- 
ers, full  of  shame  and  fear,  only  escaping  them  by  a  hair's- 
breadth.  Yet  a  few  weeks  before  these  people  Irad  been 
the  best  of  friends,  and  fancied  themselves  in  Eden. 

Though  little  hope  was  left — for  the  oil  with  which  the 
ship  was  laden  had  taken  fire — the  crew  now  betook  them- 
selves, too  late,  to  casting  out  the  powder.  "Sixty  barrels 
had  been  got  overboard,  but  three  hundred  still  remained. 
The  fire  at  length  reached  them,  and  the  vessel  blew  up  in 
the  air  with  one  hundred  and  nineteen  souls.  A  mo- 
ment afterward  not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen.  "And 
believing  myself  to  be  launched  into  eternity,"  writes  Bon- 
tekoe,  "  I  cried,  '  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  my  soul !'  " 

On  reaching  the  water,  like  a  spent  rocket,  he  "  fetches 
a  little  breath,"  and  perceiving  the  mainmast  floating  near 
him  amid  the  other  debris  of  the  wreck,  contrives  to  gain 
it.  At  the  same  moment  he  sees  a  young  man  rising 
from  the  water,  who  exclaims,  "  I  have  got  it!"  (meaning 


a  spare  yard).      "My  God !"  cried  I  to  myself,  " is  it  possi- 
ble that  any  one  can  have  survived  ?" 

With  two  wounds  on  his  head,  and  bruises  all  over  his 
back,  he  could  do  little  to  help  another,  but  what  lay  in  his 
power  he  did  do.  While  sealed  with  his  co-survivor  on 
the  mast,  the  sun,  the  great  hope-giver  to  all  in  calamity, 
"went  down,  to  our  great  affliction,"  leaving  them  desti- 
tute of  all  hope  of  succor.  When  morning  dawned  they 
found  both  launch  and  cutter  beside  them,  "and  I  rried 
out  to  my  people  to  save  their  Captain,"  which  they  were 
vei-v  willing  to  do,  though  in  great  amazement  at  his  lie- 
ing  in  life.  But  being  quite  unable  to  move,  a  rope  was 
tied  round  him,  and  he  was  dragged  on  board,  and  depos- 
ited in  a.  hole  in  the  stern,  "  which,"  says  poor  Bontekoe, 
he  thought  "convenient"  to  die  in. 

A  few  hours  ago  meat  and  cheese  had  been  floating  in 
such  quantities  about  his  legs  that  it  had  been  difficult  to 
get  rid  of  them,  but  all  that  these  stupid  sailors  had  man- 
aged to  pick  up  were  seven  pounds  of  biscuits.  Without 
their  Captain  they  were  indeed  without  their  head.  Their 
strength  was  exhausted  with  rowing,  and  when  he  mur- 
mured "sail,"  they  stared  at  him.  "Where,"  they  asked, 
"were  they  to  get  sails  from  >"  Then  he  told  them  to  take 
their  shirts,  and  to  use  all  the  cordage  about  the  boat  for 
thread;  "but  when  I  offered  mine,  they  refused  it  as  ne- 
cessary to  my  feeble  health. "  A  dressing-gown  and  pillow 
were  also  supplied  him,  and  the  surgeon  applied  chewed 
bread,  "for  want  of  a  better  remedy,"  to  his  wounds. 

There  were  forty-six  persons  in  the  launch,  and  thir- 
ty-six in  the  cutter.  This  ingenious  invalid  Captain  of 
theirs  engraved  a  chart  of  the  M  raits  (of  Sunda)  on  a 
plank,  by  which  they  steered,  and  also  "constructed  a 
compass."  Each  had  a  biscuit  of  the  size  of  a  man's  fin- 
ger daily,  but  nothing  amid  the  scorching  heat  of  the  day 
to  drink.  Presently  it  rained,  however,  and  they  tilled  a. 
cask,  out  of  which  they  drank  from  a  shoe.  "They  all 
besought  me  to  drink  as  much  as  I  liked,  but  I  restricted 
myself  to  the  same  allowance  as  the  rest." 

As  the  launch  sailed  more  quickly  than  the  cutter,  the 
people  in  the  latter  besought  to  join  their  fellows,  and 
their  entreaties  were  complied  with.  There  were  thus 
eighty-two  souls  crowded  together  on  the  launch,  "a  deck 
being  made  of  the  oars  where  some  could  sit,  while'  the 
others  crouched  below."  Then,  as  their  miseries  increased, 
and  starvation  set  in,  they  began  to  murmur  at  their  lead- 
er, whose  only  fault  was  the  endeavor  to  inspire  them 
with  hope.  The  rage  of  hunger  urging  them  beyond  all 
bounds,  they  announced  their  intention  to  kill  and  eat  the 
boys  on  board;  and  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
Bontekoe  persuaded  them  to  give  them  a  respite  of  three 
days.  If  they  did  not  sight  land  within  that  time,  the 
boys  were  to  be  sacrificed. 

Bontekoe  had  some  confidence  in  his  scientific  calcula- 
tions, but  chiefly  in  his  prayers  that  the  Almighty  would 
preserve  them  from  a  crime  so  horrible.  No  one  could 
stand  upright  through  excessive  weakness,  but  the  Cap- 
tain crawled  from  one  end  of  the  boat  to  the  other  en- 
couraging his  men.  On  the  third  morning  the  quarter- 
master suddenly  cried  out,  "Land!  land!" 

This  laud  was  inhabited  by  a  barbarous  people  by  whom 
many  of  them  were  killed,  but  the  survivors  escaped  in 
their  boat,  and  once  more  put  to  sea.  In  the  end,  as  in- 
deed throughout,  they  owed  their  safety  to  the  intelligence 
of  their  Captain,  for  looking  around  him  in  all  directions 
he  discovered  "two  great  blue  hills,"  and  calling  to  mind 
that  he  had  heard  from  ail  experienced  navigator  that  on 
the  extreme  point  of  Java  there  were  two  hills  of  this  de- 
scription, he  steered  for  them,  and  found  a  haven  and  Eu- 
ropean help. 

It  is  pleasant  to  learn  from  other  sources  that  this  in- 
trepid fellow  arrived  in  safety  at  his  native  town,  "  where 
he  led  an  exemplary  life,  and  died  in  the  esteem  and  ad- 
miration of  all  who  knew  him." 


FEBRUARY  27,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


265 


r_ 


= 


^  - 


;,  *^?r^ 

*4>-' 

X:    . 


; 


. 


"•^~,2K*? 


^ 


X, 


%' 


-    .•'    - 

y.&.^J-'-^ 


/l|-^-i  """"  upon  thr  barren  lie-Id-  i-  folded  white  and 
^~     thick, 

There  no  M-allered  seeds  or  crumbs  for  hungry 

birds  in  piek. 

Tin'  tippling  brook-  are  fro/.eii  hard,  tin-  golden-rod  is  dry, 
Ami  Kartli  is  lung  fast  a-leep  hem-alb  thr  open  sky. 

linl    sec,  "illi   '-a'.rr  lia-lr   1   stir  tin-   happy  I'ralhtTCil 

throng 

Av  all  ali-rl.     Thr  j-'i'MV  ilnvrs  mo,  tlir  «  IT  l.ifils  try  a  sulit,'. 
Ami  Cliiiiitirlccr,  "iili  hi'ail  rrrrt,  uplifts  a  juvoiis  crow, 

l-'nl-  \\cll  |hi.\  know  tin'  ll'icllil  «  hi  i  sli'ps  klirr-ilcrp  arl'oss 
llir  sliuw. 

ilhl  linn   is   patirnt  i   Hhirrinj:  \\ings  go  flying  round  his 

head, 
Anil  pi-lisi\  i-  lu'iis  aliinit  him  Lrupi',  nor  fear  a  clumsy  In  ;M|. 

llr  I  a  a  await-  the  urlitlr  pal,  tin1  fond  ami  ll ^  hi  lid  rare' 

\Vhirh  all  within  tlir  larmi'r's  round  indaily  kimlnrss  share. 

SomehoM  tin-  pretty  i-ietiire  brings  a  pleasant  thoiiglit 
tu  me 

(if  1 1  mi  who  keep-  In  salVr-t  watcb  the  world's  «ide  family. 

Since  not  a  sparrow  to  the  ground  may  fall  nit  bout  His  sight, 

Well  miiv  we  trust  our  l-'ather  liod  uheti  wintry  Ik-Ids  are- 
white. 


FARM    PENSIONERS. 


266 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


YOU'ME  IV. 


BIBLE-READING. 

BY  THE  REV.  CHARLES  H.  HALL,  D.D. 

"TJIP,"  as  we  call  him  in  certain  moods,  is  a  young- 

J_  ster  of  iiiue  summers.  He  had  gone  to  bed,  after 
saying-  his  prayers,  and  was  "being  read  to"  by  his  mo- 
ther. Pip  hardly  remembers  when  this  daily  reading- 
began,  and  now  looks  on  it  as  one  of  the  fixed  laws  of  na- 
ture, like  the  going  down  of  the  sun.  He  is  careful  to  tell 
any  chance  reader  in  his  mother's  absence  to  read  first  the 
selection  from  the  Bible,  and  to  be  sure  to  say  out  loud 
"Comment''  when  he  reaches  the  notes  of  Miss  Charlotte 
Yonge. 

Pip  was  lying  quietly  listening  to  the  story  of  Ba- 
laam's journey.  It  was  duly  announced  B.C.  1452,  Num- 
bers, xxii.  22-35,  and  began:  "And  God's  anger  was 
kindled  because  he  went."  Then  came  the  story  of  the 
meeting  of  the  angel,  and  the  beast  on  which  he  sat  re- 
buking him  for  his  folly.  Then  followed  "Comment." 
Listen  to  a  few  words  from  this  part.  Balaam  "  was 
like  a  child,  who,  when  a  father  has  once  forbidden  a 
pleasure  as  dangerous  or  mischievous,  does  not  submit,  but 
begs  and  frets  to  have  the  restraint  removed,  not  caring  to 
please  his  parents,  only  to  escape  punishment  and  have 
his  enjoyment.  .  .  .Many  a  time  when  we  begin  something-, 
not  sure  that  we  are  doing  right,  some  little  accident  will 
serve  to  turn  us  back.  In  that  mood  it  often  makes  us 
cross.  Would  it  do  so  if  we  remembered  that  angels  un- 
seen may  stand  in  our  way,  as  in  Balaam's,  to  save  us  from 
ourselves,  and  give  time  for  our  conscience  to  speak 
again  ?" 

Thus  far  the  "Comment."  Now  Pip's  father  was  hear- 
ing the  reading  from  his  study,  and  by  this  time  was 
turning  over  in  his  mind  the  doubts  and  perplexities 
which  skeptics  have  started  on  the  incidents  of  this  Bible 
story.  If  we  dare  say  it  of  a  venerable  dominie,  he  was 
somewhat  in  the  condition  where  Milton  leaves  the  fallen 
angels  in  his  poem,  "  in  wandering  mazes  lost." 

The  voice  of  the  reader  ceased,  and  the  gas  was  put 
down,  when  Pip  recalled  his  mother  to  his  bedside,  and 
putting  his  arms  around  her  neck,  drew  her  down  to  him 
and  said,  "Mamma.  I  do  try  to  do  right — I  do  indeed; 
but  then  sometimes  I  forget  and  get  angry,  or  say  some- 
thing cross  before  I  think.  But  I  am  sorry  for  it,  and  I 
try  again  to  do  better.  Won't  you  forgive  me  ?"  Then 
followed  a  murmuring  between  the  two,  far  inward  at  the 
secret  shrine,  over  which  we  reverently  drop  the  curtain, 
and  leave  them  together.  They  had  found  suddenly  that 
this  strange  old  story  had  led  them  up  to  "the  gate -of 
heaven,"  and  where  angels  and  ministers  of  grace  start 
out  in  ways  of  their  own  to  touch  the  sacred  nerves  of  the 
heart.  The  dominie  found  himself  saying  over,  "Except 
ye  become  as  one  of  these  ye  can  not  see  the  kingdom. of 
God":  and  again:  "Where  is  the  scribe  !  Where  is  the 
clisputer  of  this  world  ?"  Many  American  boys  would 
answer  even  .-in  apostle,  "Nowhere!" 

While  he  was  thus  musing  he  turned  over  the  in- 
troduction of  Miss  Yoiige's  excellent  book,  and  read 
these  words  (she  is  deeply  interested  in  revealing  truth, 
especially  for  the  help  of  young  people):  "Every  one 
«•  i imaged  in  education  must  at  times  have  felt  some  diffi- 
culty on  the  subject  of  Holy  Scripture  with  children 

Nearly  a  century  ago  the  estimable  Hannah  Trimmer 
endeavored  to  meet  some  of  these  difficulties"  by  selections 
and  annotations  of  her  own.  For  many  years  this  was  a 
class-book  in  almost  all  English  schools,- but  it  was  found 
on  experience  to  be  too  dignified  with  "Johnsonian  Eng- 
lish,"ami  ]i roved  to  be  dull.  Miss  Yonge  speaks  also  of 
"a  few  expedient  omissions"  in  Bible-reading,  and  of  hn- 
Hl'orts  to  select  such  .passages  as  she  found  "to  suit  with 
children's  ordinary  powers,"  which  could  be  dwelt  on 
"  without  weariness." 

This  was  the  book  which  had  sent  Pip  to  the  shrine  of 


his  mother's  love  to  make  his  humble  confession  and  to 
hear  such  absolution,  not  without  tears  and  kisses  on  both 
sides,  as  she  could  give  him. 

And  now,  ye  young  folk  of  all  ages,  who  are  all  the  little 
children  of  the  Great  Teacher,  what  are  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures read  for  ?  What  do  you  wish  to  get  out  of  them  >. 

We  would  condense  our  answer  for  the  young  folk  into 
the  words  of  the  Master:  "  In  them  ye  think  ye  have 
eternal  life,  and  they  testify  of  Me."  Jesus  said  this  of 
the  Old  Testament,  as  the  New  was  not  yet  written.  Two 
reasons  are  given  by  Him.  "Ye  think  ye  have  eternal 
life"  in  those  old  records.  "  Ye  find  in  them  the  witness 
to  Me."  Yes,  Doctor,  but  can  children  understand  either 
reason  ?  Well,  let  us  see. 

Can  a  boy  understand  the  Declaration  of  Independence  ? 
Perhaps  not.  But  he  can  receive  into  his  inward  sap  and 
marrow  the  stories  of  the  American  Revolution,  the  lives 
of  its  heroes,  the  examples  of  their  courage  in  resisting 
wrong,  the  battle  of  Lexington,  Paul  Revere's  ride,  the 
ring  of  Patrick  Henry's  indignant  eloquence,  and  the  rush 
of  Otis's  fervor  for  liberty.  He  can  feel  all  that  the  De- 
claration means.  Now  suppose  that  the  judges  of  all  the 
Supreme  Courts  in  the  United  States  should  become  legal 
missionaries,  and  should  travel  over  the  land  to  lecture  in 
our  schools  to  the  children  and  expound  to  them  learn- 
edly that  document — how  clear,  solid,  and  majestic  it  is — 
would  it  pay  ?  would  it  make  better  patriots  of  another 
generation  ?  We  think  not. 

Have  our  learned  divines  possibly  been  trusting  too 
much  to  that  sort  of  head-knowledge,  and  forgotten  that 
the  Old  Testament,  and  certainly  the  New,  have  cared 
very  little  for  it?  Moses  charged  all  the  parents  in  Israel 
to  teach  their  own  children  the  sacred  words  and  institu- 
tions of  the  Law,  which  had  in  them  "eternal  life."  No 
one  else  was  to  do  it  for  them,  because  no  one  else  could 
do  it  as  well.  Hear  him:  "These  words  which  I  com- 
mand thee  this  day  shall  be  in  tliiue  Jii'tirt  [where  they 
must  be,  to  come  warm  out  of  it],  and  them  shalt  teach 
them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk  of  than 
[not  preach  them,  nor  be  learned  and  Johnsonian  about 
them,  but  talk  of  them  as  the  heart  inclines]  when  thou 
sittest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by  the  way, 
and  when  thou  liest  down  [as  Pip  did],  and  when  thou 
risest  up:  and  thou  shall  bind  them  for  a  sign  upon  thine 
hand  [to  guide  all  actions],  and  they  shall  be  as  frontlets 
between  thine  eyes"  [to  guide  all  seeing].  This  was  the 
intention  of  the  Lawgiver.  He  suited  his  laws  to  this  sort 
of  domestic  instruction.  Has  it  ever  failed  ?  Can  it  fail  ? 

Every  Israelite  child  took  his  earliest  education  from 
the  bosom  whence  he  drew  his  mother's  milk,  which  can 
hardly  ever  give  place  to  other,  food  without  danger. 
Actual  life  in  motion  is  God's  element  of  instruction  in 
the  Bible.  If  the  poet  tells  us, 

"  Lives  of  great  men  :ill  remind  us 
\V,e  cap  make  our  lives  sublime," 

what  shall  we  •  say  of  a  Book  which  we  believe  that  the 
wisdom  of  God  prepared  to  this  one  great  end  for  ever  and 
ever  ?  No  matter  just  now  as  to  certain  difficult  parts  of 
it.  There  are  dark  sayings,  forgotten  customs,  things 
that  have  perished  in  the  using— many  things  that  we  do 
not  know  much  about  and  never  shall  know.  Life  in 
this  Book  was  real  and  earnest.  It  began  as  a  stream  far 
up  in  the  wild  region  of  idolatries,  where  nature  reigned 
in  grim  solitude. 

"Look,"  said  the  poet-prophet  Isaiah,  "to  the  rock 
whence  ye  were  hewn,  saith  the  Lord:  look  to  Ahram 
your  father,  for  I  called  him  alone."  It  worked  its  on- 
ward way  like  a  stream  through  the  lives  and  actions  of 
(•(•rtain  men,  now  in  shadow,  now  in  sunshine,  taking 
in  other  streamlets,  sometimes  clear  and  again  turbid. 
Then  it  ran  onward  into  national  history,  and  rolled  be- 
tween the  Two  Tables  of  Law  engraven  011  stones,  and 


FEBRUARY  27,  JSS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


267 


on  the  clitfs  were  marked  old  runic  signs  of  temple  wor- 
ship and  royal  dynasties.  Moss  has  gathered  on  the  cliffs, 
hut  n  one  on  the  river.  All  were  to  end  in  visions  of  "<  hie 
like  unto  the  Son  of  man,"  who  \vas  to  receive  a  kingdom 
of  saints,  and  reign  forever.  Can  a  boy  in  any  way  receive 
this  Divine  instruction  '.  Can  he  read  the  lesson  for  him- 
self of  the  Life  which  is  eternal,  which  is  'o  know  (iod 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  lie  hath  sent  ? 

Let  us  consider.  Greek  boys  used  the  Iliad  very  much 
to  this  end.  Roman  hoys  were  taught  to  look  upon  the 
^Eneid  in  this  way.  The  Buddhists  hold  up  (iaiitama  lie- 
fore  their  pupils  with  this  intent.  And  Christian  instruc- 
tion for  children  is  perforce  the  nurture  and  admonition 
of  the  Lord  of  life.  Bible-reading,  then,  no  matter  im- 
many  places  dark  to  science  and  dogma,  is  the  reading  In- 
ch ildivu  of  lives  of  great  men,  who  were  sinners  all  .  follow- 
ing them  through  scenes  of  fall  and  recovery,  in  desert-,  of 
sin  and  on  battle-fields  with  spirits  of  evil  ;  always  looking 
into  the  I  rue  life  of  life,  to  lind  and  feel  the  spiritual  man- 
hood with  its  law  and  ordinances,  which  shall  teach  them 
how  sin  is  the  one  evil  of  all  alike,  how  repentance  is  the 
one  niedicine,  and  pardon  the  one  peace  of  tin-  true  soul. 

This  eternal  life  —  not  some  future  condition  of  it.  but 
the  life  now  and  here  —  that  is  under  all  other  life.  Jesus 
saw  hidden  in  the  *  )ld  Testament,  and  hade  the  proud  men 
about  Him  to  search  for  it  there,  if  haply  they  might  find 
it.  Parents  are  u  ise.  Sunday  schools  are  useful,  and  chil- 
dren are  fortunate  u  ho.  refusing  to  be  scribes,  seek  to  dig 
out  this  relined  gold  and  mint  i!  into  the  shekels  of  the 
sanctuary.  Pip  had  dug  out  of  the  sad  story  of  Balaam's 
obstinacy  the  lesson  which  was  needed  for  him  by  love 
rather  than  by  science. 

Again,  Jesus  said,  "  They  testify  of  Mi'."  All  along  the 
ages, 

"  From    Adam's  loss  until   the  riul  of  \rar~ 
l-'rom  oust  iiiilu  nil-  west  the  Sou  <>l   Man  appears.'' 

Christ  is  the  ideal  manhood.  He  is  (iod  manifest1  in  the 
flesh.  His  life  was  pure  and  sinless,  and  only  His.  Did 
Abraham  deceive  Pharaoh  .'  Did  Jael  assassinate  Sisera  ' 
Did  David  oll'end  in  the  matter  of  Uriah  :  How  fatal  it  is 
for  a  parent  or  teacher  to  bougie  at  the  reply  !  They  were 
sinners,  all  of  them;  imperfect  all.  But  did  a  shadow  of 
sin  ever  darken  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  '.  The  others 
only  pointed  to  Him.  The  high  priests,  the  seers,  the 
faulty  saints,  only  told  the  need  and  the  power  of  His 
coming".  The  law  had  its  end  in  (  'hrist.  He  revealed  the 
"  Way.  the  Truth,  and  the  Life."  So  wrote  the  best  -beloved 
disciple,  very  tenderly,  of  that  Icve  for  Him  which  fulfills 
all  law,  purities  all  hearts  to  the  righteousness  of  Christ, 
and  brings  God  down  to  dwell  in  the  humblest  soul.  The 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  the  spirit  and  mind  of  Christ,  is  the 
secret  of  all  religious  life,  in  boys  and  men  the  same. 

Read  t  hs  Bible,  then,  with  open  eyes.  Don't  be  a  f  raid  of  it. 
Don't  be  afraid  for  it  ;  it  can  stand  alone,  and  take  all  risks. 
Read  it  in  the  sacred  silences  of  home.  Think  it  over  by 
the  way-side.  Ponder  it  as  Pip  did,  to  hear  "the  Unction 
from  above"  speaking  words  very  holy  and  practical. 

Or  we  may  recall  another  boy  who  was  lying  awake  at 
midnight  on  his  pallet  near  the.  tabernacle,  and  heard  a 
voice  in  the  darkness  talking  to  him  words  which  the  old 
priest  could  not  hear,  because  his  ears  were  heavy  with 
sin.  That  voice  sounds  ever.  For  such  readers  and 
thinkers  in  all  lands  and  all  ages  the  Old  Book  is  always 
God's  book,  and  teaches  boys  and  all  of  that  eternal  life 
and  that  Saviour  who  brought  it  to  light. 

"Oh.  say  not,  dream   not,  heavenly  notes 

To  childish   ears  :ire  vain  ; 
That  the  voun^  mind  at  random   floats, 
And  can   not  reaeh  the  strain! 


"  Dim  or  unheard  the  words  may 

And   yet  the  heaven-taught  min 
May  learn  the  saered  air,  and  all 
The   harmony  unwind." 


TRAPS. 

BY  JIMMY   BROWN. 

A  BOY  ought  always  to  stand  up  for  his  sister,  and  pro- 
tect her  from  everybody,  and  do  everything  to  make 
her  happy,  for  she  can  only  be  his  sister  once,  and  he 
would  be  so  awfully  sorry  if  she  died  and  then  he  remem- 
bered that  his  conduct  toward  her  had  sometimes  been 
such. 

Mr.  Withers  doesn't  come  to  our  house  any  more.  One 
night  Sue  saw  him  coming  up  the  garden  walk,  and  father 
said.  "There's  the  other  one  coining,  Susan;  isn't  this 
Travers's  evening?"  and  then  Sue  said,  "  I  do  wish  some- 
body would  protect  me  from  him  he  is  that  stupid  don't  I 
wish  I  need  never  lay  eyes  on  him  again." 

I  made  up  my  mind  that  nobody  should  bother  my  sis- 
ter while  she  had  a  brother  to  protect  her.  So  the  next 
time  I  saw  Mr.  Withers  I  spoke  to  him  kindly  anil  firmly 
—that's  the  way  grown-up  people  speak  when  they  say 
something  dreadfully  unpleasant— and  told  him  what  Sue 
had  said  about  him,  and  that  he  ought  not  to  bother  her 
any  more.  Mr.  Withers  didn't  thank  me  and  say  that  he 
knew  1  uas  trying  to  do  him  good,  which  was  what  he 
ought  to  have  said,  but  he  looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  hurt 
somebody,  and  walked  oft'  without  saying  a  word  to  me, 
and  I  don't  think  he  was  polite  about  it. 

He  has  never  been  at  our  house  since.  "When  I  told 
Sue  how  I  had  protected  her  she  was  so  overcome  with 
gratitude  that  she  couldn't  speak,  and  just  motioned  me 
with  a  hook  to  go  out  of  her  room  and  leave  her  to  feel 
thankful  about  it  by  herself.  The  book  very  nearly  hit 
me  on  the  head.,  hut  it  wouldn't  have  hurt  much  if  it  had. 

Mr.  Travel's  was  delighted  about  it.  and  told  me  that  I 
hail  acted  like  a  man,  and  that  he  shouldn't  forget  it.  The 
m -\t  day  he  brought  me  a  beautiful  book  all  about  traps. 
It  told  how  to  make  mornahundred  different  kinds  of 
traps  that  would  catch  everything,  and  it  was  one  of  the 
best  books  I  ever  saw. 

( )ur  next-door  neighbor.  Mr.  Schofield,  keeps  pigs,  only 
he  don't  keep  them  enough,  for  they  FUJI  all  around.  They 
come  into  our  garden  and  eat  up  everything,  and  father 
said  he  would  give  almost  anything  to  get  rid  of  them. 

Now  one  of  the  traps  that  my  book  told  about  was  just 
the  thing  to  catch  pigs  with.  It  was  made  out  of  a  young 
tree  and  a  rope.  You  bend  the  tree  down  and  fasten  the 
rope  to  it  so  as  to  make  a  slippernoose,  and  when  the  pig 
walks  into  the  slippernoose  the  tree  flies  up  and  jerks  him 
into  the  air. 

I  thought  that  I  couldn't  please  father  better  than  to  make 
some  traps  and  catch  some  pigs;  so  I  got  a  rope,  and  got 
two  Irishmen  that  were  fixing  the  front  walk  to  bend  down 
two  trees  for  me  and  hold  them  while  I  made  the  traps. 
This  was  just  before  supper,  and  I  expected  that  the  pigs 
would  come  early  the  next  morning  and  get  caught. 

It  was  bright  moonlight  that  evening,  and  Mr.  Travers 
and  Sue  said  the  house  was  so  dreadfully  hot  that  they 
would  go  and  take  a,  walk.  They  hadn't  been  out  of 
the  house  but  a  few  minutes  when  we  heard  an  awful 
shriek  from  Sue,  and  we  all  rushed  out  to  see  what  was 
the  matter. 

Mr.  Travers  had  walked  into  a  trap,  and  was  swinging 
by  one  leg,  with  his  head  about  six  feet  from  the  ground. 
Nobody  knew  him  at  first  except  me,  for  when  a  person  is 
upside  down  he  doesn't  look  natural;  but  I  knew  what 
was  the  matter,  and  told  father  that  it  would  take  two  men 
to  bend  down  the  tree  and  get  Mr.  Travers  loose.  So  they 
told  me  to  run  and  get  Mr.  Schofleld  to  come  and  help, 
and  they  got  the  step-ladder  so  that  Sue  could  sit  on  the 
top  of  it  and  hold  Mr.  Travers's  head. 

I  was  so  excited  that  I  forgot  all  about  the  other  trap,  and, 
besides,  Sue  had  said  things  to  me  that  hurt  my  feelings, 
and  that  prevented  me  from  thinking  to  tell  Mr.  Schotield 
not  to  get  himself  caught.  He  ran  ahead  of  me,  because 


268 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


' ' 


UNEXPECTED    RESULTS    OF    JIMMY'S    EFFORTS    TO    TRAP    PIGS. 


he  was  so  anxious  to  help,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  there 
came  an  awful  yell  from  him,  and  up  he  went  into  the  air, 
and  hung  there  by  both  legs,  which  I  suppose  was  easier 
than  the  way  Mr.  T ravers  hung. 

Then  everybody  went  at  me  in  the  most  dreadful  way, 
except  Sue,  who  was  holding  Mr.  Travers's  head.  They 
said  the  most  unkind  things  to  me,  and  sent  me  into  the 
house.  I  heard  afterward  that  father  got  Mr.  Scholield's 
boy  to  climb  up  and  cut  Mr.  Travers  and  Mr.  Schofield 
loose,  and  they  fell  on  the  gravel,  but  it  didn't  hurt  them 
much,  only  Mr.  Schofield  broke  some  of  his  teeth,  and 
says  he  is  going  to  bring  a  lawsuit  against  father.  Mr. 
Travers  was  just  as  good  as  he  could  be.  He  only  laugh- 
ed the  next  time  he  saw  me,  and  he  begged  them  not  to 
punish  me,  because  it  was  his  fault  that  I  ever  came  to 
know  about  that  kind  of  trap. 

Mr.  Travers  is  the  nicest  mail  that  ever  lived,  except  fa- 
ther, and  when  he  marries  Sue  I  shall  go  and  live  with 
him,  though  I  haven't  told  him  yet,  for  I  want  to  keep  it  as 
a  pleasant  surprise  for  him. 


A  BOYS'  SKATING  MATCH. 

THE  boys  and  girls  who  read  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE have  of  course  heard  a  great  deal  about  the  great 
Ice  Carnival  at  Montreal  —  the  palace  that  was  built 
out  of  blocks  of  ice,  the  snow-shoe  parade  and  steeple- 
chase, the  curling  and  hockey  games,  the  tobogganing, 
the  races  011  the  river,  and  the  great  ball.  For  two  or 


three  weeks  all  the  papers  were  full  of 
these  proceedings,  and  hardly  any  one 
can  have  missed  hearing  of  them.  One 
of  the  most  interesting  features  of  the 
Carnival,  however,  was  quite  overlooked 
by  the  papers.  That  was  the  boys'  skat- 
ing match,  which  took  place  on  Tuesday 
evening  of  Carnival  week,  and  of  which 
tin'  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  will  enjoy 
an  exclusive  report. 

Skating  in  Montreal  is  mostly  done  in- 
doors. Large  houses,  or  rinks,  are  built, 
with  a  central  space  for  the  skaters  and  a 
raised  platform  around  the  sides  for  spec- 
tators. When  the  floor  has  been  flooded 
and  frozen  it  presents  such  ail  icy  surface, 
unruffled  by  wind  and  with  no  treacher- 
ous cracks,  as  those  who  have  skated  all 
their  lives  on  rivers  or  ponds — even  park 
ponds  —  can  hardly  imagine.  In  these 
rinks  skating  lasts  with  scarcely  a  break 
from  the  1st  of  December  to  the  1st  of 
April.  No  wonder  the  Montreal  people 
are  good  skaters,  and  that  even  the  boys 
do  such  clever  feats  as  I  saw  them  perform 
at  the  match.  We  in  Nc\v  York  think 
we  are  fortunate  if  the  "ball"  is  up  two 
or  three  times  in  a  winter  for  a  few  days 
at  a  time;  and  even  then  the  ice  is  soon 
cut  up  and  ruined. 

It  is  at  the  Victoria  Eink  that  the  match 
which  we  are  to  see  comes  off.  On  the 
ice  are  twenty  or  thirty  people,  mostly 
l>o\s,  with  one  or  two  gentlemen  to  serve 
as  starler  and  judge,  while  the  platform 
and  galleries  are  occurjied  by  a  large  crowd 
of  spectators.  The  first  performances  are 
only  trials  of  speed  by  men  around  the 
rink,  which  measures  one-fifth  of  a  mile; 
it  is  when  it  comes  to  the  barrel  races  by 
boys  that  we  find  something  more  lively 
and  diverting. 

W  hat  a  barrel  race  may  be,  we  American 
visitors  have  no  idea.  Seven  barrels,  open  at  both  ends,  are 
laid  side  by  side  upon  the  ice  at  each  of  the  four  corners 
of  the  rink,  and  in  our  ignorance  we  fancy  that  the  seven 
boys,  who  have  already  formed  into  line,  are  going  to  leap 
over  them.  It  must  lie  a  sort  of  hurdle  race,  we  conclude; 
and  when  the  boys,  having  started  off,  drop  on  the  ice  be- 
fore the  first  row  of  barrels,  we  suppose  that  they  have 
stumbled.  What  a  pity!  we  think;  and  how  very  odd 
that  all  should  have  tripped  at  the  same  time!  But  be- 
fore we  can  frame  this  thought,  to  our  great  surprise  the 
boys  proceed  to  crawl  into  the  barrels.  Then  it  flashes 
upon  us.  The  skaters  are  expected  not  to  jump  over  the 
obstacle,  but  to  wriggle  through  it,  and  in  fact  one  of 
them  has  already  extricated  himself,  and  is  dashing  along 
toward  the  second  row. 

Meanwhile  the  others  are  picking  themselves  up  and 
in  a  moment  pressing  hard  upon  the  heels  of  their  more 
agile  companion.  But  number  one  holds  the  lead.  When 
he  drops  again  he  seems  to  aim  directly  for  the  barrel. 
Turning  on  his  back  as  his  head  shoots  through  the  open- 
ing, and  using  his  feet  and  arms  to  push  away  the  incum- 
brance,  it  is  not  a  moment  before  he  is  free  and  the  barrel 
left  spinning  around  on  the  ice.  Others,  however,  are 
less  skillful,  and  one  small  boy,  whose  wild  struggles  have 
turned  the  barrel  completely  around,  starts  off,  when  re- 
leased, in  the  opposite  direction  from  that  which  he  was 
previously  taking.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  does  not 
win  the  race;  nor  do  any  of  the  rest  succeed  in  out- 
stripping the  one  who  beat  them  at  the  start.  Indeed, 
while  they  are  still  engaged  in  kicking  off  the  last  bar- 


FEBRUARY  'JT.  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


269 


rels,  amid  the  laugh- 
ter and  applause  of 
thespi-e-tators,  lioails 
quite  easily  up  to  the 
goal. 

Another  race  of 
the  same  kind  fol- 
lows in  which  small- 


' 


I 


THE   |!\I:I;EI.   i;    • 


er  boys  enirage,  and  which  is  not  less  funny.  The  small 
liipys.  indeed.  look  even  more  like  tadpoles  as  they  sprawl 
on  the  ice.  and  are  even  less  expert  in  wriggling  out  of 
the  imprisoning  staves.  When  this  has  heen  run.  the 
winner— a  little  fellow  not  more  than  ten  is  matched 
against  the  larger  hoy  who  had  won  the  previous  race; 
hut  here  the  Superior  Strength  and  si x.e  of  the  elder  enable 


him  to  gain  an  easy  vic|or\  . 

After  this  comes  a  hurdle  race. 


Sections  of  fence,  each 


ahoul  three  feet  hii;'h.  are  set  lip  at  interxaU  across  the 
track.  o\er  which  the  skaters  are  expected  to  jump.  Ill 
a  running  .jump  the  momentum  which  one  gains  is  a 
help,  but  in  skating  it  is  rather  a  hinderance.  .since  it 
carries  the  feet  along  the  ice  when  the\  onuht  to  he- in 
the  air.  To  one  who  is  only  looking  on.  and  has  never 
tried  it  himself,  it  seems  quite,  improliahle  thai,  witli 
so  little  purc-ha.se  as  the  ice 
atl'ords.  the-  skater  can  slid 
dc-nly  convert  a  rapid  for- 
ward movement  into  an 
equally  rapid  upward  one-. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
when  lie  reaches  the  hur- 
dle, he  rises  as  though  lie 
were  shot  up  by  a  spring 
hoard,  clears  the  harrier, 
and  coming  down  \\  itli  a 
ring-  on  the  other  side,  goes 
on  as  Ill-fore-. 

Another  feature  of  the 
evening  is  the  potato  race, 
contested  hv  eight  or  ten 
boys.  Rows  of  potatoes,  as 
many  in  each  row  as  there 
are  boys,  an-  laid  the  depl  h 
of  the  rink,  at  intervals  of 
thirty  or  forty  feet,  on  the 
ice,  while  at  the  starting- 
point  is  placed  a  basket  for 
each  boy.  At  the  word  "go'' 
the  boys  dash  off,  and  hast- 
ily snatch  the  potatoes  in 
the  first  row.  Bringing  his 
prize  back  to  the  goal,  each 
ojie  deposits  it  in  his  bas- 
ket, and  then  scuds  away  to 
the  second  row.  Returning 
in  like  manner  from  this,  he 


leaves  the  potato,  and  hurries 
off  to  the  third.     By  this  time 
the  line  is  very  much  broken  ; 
some  of  the  less  active  ones 
are    only    through   the    first 
row.  others  have-  just  attack- 
ed the    second,  while    one   is 
already   starting   out   for   the 
fourth.      Watch    him    as    he 
darts  up  to  the-  row,  as  yet  un- 
touched ;  .skillfully  and  with- 
out stopping  he  picks  up  the  first  pota- 
to, hurries  hack  to  the-  basket,  drops  ill 
the-  vegetable'  at  arm's-length.  and  with- 
out losing  a  second  of  time  or  an  inch 
of  space  re-turns  to  the  one  remaining   row. 
Here  the  process  is  repeated,  and  though  an- 
other boy  is  pressing  him  close,  his  skill  does  not  de- 
sert  him,  and  he  brings   hack   in   triumph  the    lirst    potato 
of  the  last   row,  being  the-  earliest  to  till  his  basket,  and  so 
winning  the  race-. 

From  this  skating  match,  and  indeed  from  all  the  fes 
tivitiesof  the  ( 'arnival.  1  bring  hack  a  single-  thought — why 
might  not  these  delightful  sports  he-come  popular  in  the 
Slate's  :  (  me-  does  not  nee-d  to  do  more'  than  look  at  the 
I'anadian  young  men  to  observe  how  hardy  and  robust 
I  hey  are;  and  it  is  not  ditlicult  to  disc-over  what  makes 
the -m  so.  Their  fondness  for  out-of-door  life  and  vigorous 
exercise  is  the-  source-  of  th'-ir  sln-ngtli  and  good  health, 
and  it  is  something  which  American  boys,  and  girls  too, 
would  ilo  well  to  cultivate.  There  is  no  American  village 

or  town,  where  the  winters  are  cold  enough  to  supply  snow 

and  ice.  in  \\hic-h  skating,  tobogganing,  lacrosse,  hockey, 
and  MIOU  shoe  clubs  might  not  be  formed,  to  the  great  ad- 
\antai:'e  of  the  young  people.  The  benefit  of  a  club  is 
that  it  organizes  the  sport  and  encourages  the  members  to 
indulge  in  it  more  systematically  than  if  they  tried  it  sep- 
arately and  on  their  oun  account.  If  it  is  too  late  to  do 
anything  this  winter,  or^an  i/e  for  next  winter;  so  that 
ulic-n  the-  frost  coine-s  again  it  will  find  everything  in 
readiness  for  the  fullest  enjoyment  of  tin-  season. 


-/£          \X      » 


THE    HURDLE    RACE. 


270 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Vnl.l'ME  IV. 


CAMBRTHOK,  NEW  YnnK. 

I  wonder  if  any  of  the  other  little  girls  who 
have  YOUNG  PEOPLE  know  what  fun  it  is  to  play 
"Nan."  I  am  four  years  old,  and  I  delight  in 
both  the  story  iind  the  play. 

My  baby-house  is  Aunt  Letty's  home,  and  un- 
der the  table  is  the  cottage  where  Mrs.  Travers 
went  to  live.  I  put  sonic  of  my  old  furniture  in 
that,  and  I  have  a  store  where  Nan  goes  to  buy, 
and  a  corner  for  Love's  home. 

My  sweetest  dolly  is  Nan  ;  and  as  I  have  only 
ci"lit  dolls.  I  hud  to  rut  paper  dolls  for  some  of 
the  Ilolf  children,  there  were  so  many.  1  hope 
every  paper  will  have  a  picture  of  Nan. 

ETHEL  II. 

This  is  a  dear  little  letter  from  a  bright  little 
girl.  Perhaps  some  others  among  our  readers 
may  try  the  plan  of  turning  Mrs.  Lillie's  beauti- 
ful story  into  a  play. 

WKRT  BKRGHN,  NKW  JKRSKY. 

I  am  nine  years  old.  and  take  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE,  and'  enjoy  reading  it  ever  so  much.  It 
wi  mid  please  me  to  see  my  letter  in  next  week  s 
Post-office  Box.  I  am  just  learning  to  skate,  but 
I  am  afraid  the  ice  will  not  last  much  longer.  I 
must  soon  go  to  work,  so  as  to  help  my  mother, 
and  I  hope  1  may  get  a  good  plaee.  I  have  a  new 
five -cent  piece.  I  think  they  are  very  pretty. 
Will  you  please  tell  me  how  to  keep  rabbits! 

WILLARD  P.  \V. 

In  No.  03,  Vol.  II.,  you  will  find  an  article  which 
tells  all  about  the  care  of  rabbits.  Many  of  you 
express  the  wish  that  Willard  docs,  that  your 
letters  may  appear  in  the  next  Post-office  Box. 
This,  dear  boys  and  girls,  is  impossible.  There 
are  so  many  of  you,  and  your  letters  come  in 
such  numbers,  that  some  of  you  must  be  kept 
waiting  a  long  time. 

BALTIMORE,  MARYl.ANn. 

I  am  the  eldest  of  five  children.  I  have  a  very 
pretty  doll,  and  a  great  many  pictures.  I  have 
some  very  pretty  gold-fish,  two  beautiful  cana- 
ries and  a  dear,  sweet  little  sister,  the  pride  of 
all  our  hearts.  She  is  just  as  cunning  as  she  can 
be.  This  is  my  second  letter  to  the  Postmistress. 
My  first  letter  was  not  published.  E.  V.  K. 

After  waiting  awhile,  if  your  letters  do  not  ap- 
penr,  follow  K.  V.  K.'s  example,  and  write  again. 
As  I  have  said  before,  if  every  letter  which  comes 
t,.  the  Post-office  liox  were  printed,  you  would 
not  have  any  of  the  serials,  the  Jimmy  Brown 
stories,  i. r  the  pleasant  and  instructive  articles 
I  am  sure  yon  would  not  like  that. 


CAMOPOI.IS,  MIC.IIIHA 

There  are  two  lakes  in  our  town,  and  a  jargi 
island  in  one,  of  them.  My  parents,  little  sister 
grandma,  some  friends,  ami  myself  .went  out 
camping  on  Diamond  Lake  Island  last  summer 
Some  days  the  lake  was  so  rough  that  the  waves 
dashed  upon  the  beach.  Perhaps  you  would  like 
to  know  ho  wold  I  am.  and  what  I  study  at  school. 
I  am  ten  years  old.  I  study  geography,  reading, 
and  spelling.  I  call  work  examples  in  long  divi- 
•sion,  and  read  in  Tin'  C/ii/i/'x  limit:  nf  Xalurt.  I 
learn  a  good  deal  about  the  body,  plants,  and  ani- 
mals in  this  book.  I  guess  I  have  written  enough 
for  tlie  lirst  time.  Next  spring. when  I  come  back 
from  Hoston,  I  will  write  another  letter,  and  tell 
yon  all  about  my  trip  if  you  would  like  to  have 
ine.  MELLIE  s. 

Certainly,  Mellie.  write  again. 


"  What  is  it '/"  said  she. 

After  she  had  told  her  mother  the  story  they 
both  went  down  to  dinner.  ALICE  s. 


MY  TALK  WITH  DOLLY. 
Sleep,  little  dolly  dear: 
I  will  stay  and  watch  you  here, 
And  soon  as  you  awake 
You  and  I  will  have  some  cake. 

So  sleep,  dolly,  sleep, 

In  the  cradle  sleep. 

I  will  sit  and  watch  you  here, 
While  yon  play  and  have  good  cheer; 
When  you've  slept  we  will  have  tea, 
Then  go  to  visit  Tommy  Lee. 

So  sleep,  dolly,  sleep, 

In  the  cradle  sleep. 


THE  SLOW  GIRL. 
I  am  a  little  girl  indeed, 

And  little  do  I  know; 
But  I  will  try  and  be  more  prompt, 

And  no  more  be  so  slow. 

When  I  reached  the  school-room  door 
I  saw  a  card  marked  "  Late  !" 

I  heard  the  very  last  bell  ring 
When  I  stood  at  the  gate. 

And  so  I  missed  a  lesson  hard 

That  I  had  tried  to  get : 
I'm  sorry  that  I  was  so  slow. 

But  I'll  try  not  to  fret. 

LOUISA  CAROLINA  N. 

EitiK,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

PHILADELPHIA,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  I  have  no 
pets  like  other  little  girls,  but  have  two  brothers 
anil  one  little  sister.  Their  names  arc  Harry. 
Willie,  and  May.  May  will  talk  to  Willie  in  a 
very  old  fashion.  She  can  sing  a  song  called 
"  The  Harvest"  very  nicely.  This  is  my  first  let- 
ter  to  Yoi'Mi  PEOPLE,  and  I  hope  you  will  print 
it,  for  I  want  to  surprise  papa.  BESSIE  B. 


YPSII.ANTI.    Mil   Hi.      >    . 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  and  have  no  mo- 
ther, no  father,  no  sisters,  and  no  brothers,  but  I 
live  with  my  grandpa  and  grandma.  I  have  ten 
dolls  and  a  cat.  We  have  lots  of  chickens  and 
bantams.  I  have  a  pet  bantam.  I  go  to  school, 
and  walk  a  mile  and  a  half.  IVMMA  F.  H. 


HOT  SPRINGS,  ARKANSAS. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  I  have  lived 
here  nine  years.  There  are  many  interesting  cu- 
riosities here.  The  Hot  Springs  Mountain  is  a 
spur  of  the  Ozark  range.  A  number  of  warm 
springs  (the  hottest  of  which  will  boil  an  egg) 
flow  from  the  base  of  this  mountain  into  Hot 
Springs  Creek — a  small  tributary  to  the  ouachita 
(Wash-i-taio)  River.  About  thirty  miles  west  of 
here  are  the  Crystal  Mountains,  where  arc  found 
line  and  rare  geological  specimens.  This  is  a 
health  resort  for  invalids  from  various  parts  of 
the  world.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  House- 
keepers' Sociable,  so  please  put  my  name  down. 

ANNIE  D.  W. 


BOSTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  pretty  story  called 
"The  Kair\  I  Team." 

••  I  wish  i  here  were  veal  fairies,"  said  Maudie, 
:as  she  walked  down  the  pleasant  lane.  As  she 
said  this  she  saw  a  blue  light  in  the  distance. 
"  I  will  go  and  see  what  that  is."  said  she.  I'ret- 
ty  soon  she  came  to  the  place1  where  she  saw  the 
light.  As  '-he  siood  then-  a  tiny  fairy  came  be- 
fore her. 

••  Are  yon  a  fairy?"  said  she. 

"  Yes.  eldlil."  answered  the  fairy. 

"  Would  you  give  me  three  wishes  '•" 

"What  arc  they:-" 

"A  baby  sister,  a  lovely  doll,  and  a  room  full 
of  gold  " 

"I  will  if  yon  will  not  tell  that  von  have  seen 
me  until  a  week  from  I  o-da  v."  said  the  fairy. 

Maudic  promised.  Hut  before  she  thought  she 
told  her  mother  almost  as  soon  as  she  reached 
home,  and  then  exclaimed.  "Oh.  what  a  pity!" 

••  What  is  a  pity?"  said  her  mother. 

"I've  had  such  a  pretty  fairy  dream,  just  as 
good  as  a,  story." 


terriers,  and  got  an  Irish  setter,  but  when  we 
went  to  the  country  he  had  to  give  her  away. 
Last  summer  we  had  another  puppy,  whose  name 
was  Tain  o'  Shaiiter,  and  we  loved  him  best  of 
any.  One  morning  my  brother  came  in  and  said, 
"  Grace,  please  come  and  help  me  rind  Tarn."  We 
looked  on  the  lowest  floor  of  the  barn,  and  there 
lay  our  poor  little  doggie,  unconscious,  and  all 
the  time  having  the  most  dreadful  convulsions. 
Mamma  told  a  doctor,  who  said  Tarn  had  broken 
liis  backbone,  and  could  not  live,  so  we  managed 
to  get  him  on  some'  si  raw.  and  covered  him  up. 
When  he  grew  worse  papa  had  to  shoot  him. 

I  like  "Nan"  and  "Reg"  best  of  all  the  stories 
I  have  read.  I  hope  this  letter  is  not  too  long  to 
publish,  for  I  would  like  to  see  it  in  my  paper,  as 
I  have  not  written  before.  Good-by. 

GRACE  II. 

Poor  little  Tarn  o'  Shanter !  It  was  kinder  to 
kill  him  than  to  let  him  live  in  misery,  but  I  know 
your  hearts  were  heavy  that  day.  The  Postmis- 
tress thinks  her  eight-year-old  Grace  is  a  sweet 
girl.  Don't  you  wonder  how  she  found  out  how 
many  birthdays  you  had  kept,  dear? 


CABOT,  VERMONT. 

I  do  not.  go  to  school  this  winter.  I  never  have 
been  but  two  terms,  but  I  study  at  home  with 
my  mamma.  I  read  in  the  Fourth  Reader,  and 
study  the  little  arithmetic. 

I  have  not  got  any  sisters  or  brothers.  I  think 
\  I  ought  to  have,  but  I  have  a  good  big  dog.  His 
name  is  Prince.  He  is  taller  than  tin-  table;  he 
keeps  away  the  tramps;  he  is  an  English  mas- 
tiff. Papa  "says  he  is  thorough-bred.  I  do  not 
know  what  that  means  ;  I  suppose  you  do.  for 
editors  know  everything.  Papa  bought  my  dog 
from  an  editor  down  in  New  Hampshire,  Mr.  C. 
Ami  I  have  got  a  pony  ;  her  name  is  Golden  Hair, 
and  she  is  English.  Papa  got  her  in  Canada.  I 
do  lots  of  work  for  papa,  and  he  gives  me  mone\ 
Papa  does  not  stay  at  home  much,  for  he  is  a 
lawyer,  and  has  to  go  off  for  folks  a  lot  of  times. 
I  wish  he  could  stay  at  home  more,  so  he  could 
take  me  out  to  ride  with  mamma:  lie  always  .Iocs 
when  he  is  at.  home.  I  like  to  ride.  I  read  the 
letters  from  children  in  your  Post-office  Box,  so 
you  may  please  print  mine  for  other  children  to 
read.  ARTHUR  D.  L. 

SPUVTKN  DUYVIL,  N'EW  YORK. 

I  have  never  seen  a  letter  in  the  Post-office 
I'ox  from  this  place,  so  I  thought  I  would  write 
one  Stuart,  my  little  brother,  took  the  paper 
last  year,  and  this  year  my  uncle  sends  it  to  me. 
I  am  eight  years  old.  and  have  three  brothers 
and  one  sister.  I  think  the  Postmistress  a  very 
sweet  woman,  and  often  wish  I  knew  her.  My 
main  ma  is  gi  ving  me  lessons  on  the  piano,  and  I 
like  to  pracl  ice  very  much.  I  have  thl'ee  dolls 
one  girl,  and  two  boys.  One  hoy  is  in  kilts. and 
the  other  has  kilts  and  a  watch  chain,  but  he  looks 
much  prettier  in  baby  clothes,  so  I  keep  him  in 
them  most  of  the  time 

All  the  boys  and  girlstell  about  their  pets.  We 
have  none  but  a  eat  that  is  cross.  YA  c  have  had 
several  dogs,  but  in  some  way  they  are  all  gone 
now.  Our  first  dog,  a  setter,  ran  away  when  a 
puppy ;  then  papa  gave  away  two  of  our  little 


to  meet  us  when  we  get  to  the  bottom  nf  the  hil 
to  bring  our  sleighs  up  to  the  top.  and  he  takes 
them  home.  This  is  my  first  letter  to  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  wish  you  all  a  merry  Christ- 
mas and  a  happy  New-Year.  HESSIE  \\".  s. 

CALL-MET,  MICHIGAN. 

We  have  been  playing  forfeits,  blindman's-bnff, 
school. and  several  other  things.  We  just  thought 
of  writing  u  small  letter  to  you.  There  arc  tour 
of  us  jolly  girls  here.  Dear  Postmistress.  I  hope 
you  will  have  no  objection  to  print  this  letter, 
for  we  all  would  like  to  see  it  printed.  1  want 
to  become  one  of  your  Housekeepers;  I  can  make 
while  bread  and  gingerbread.  We  all  sign  our 
names.  NELLIE  M.  KATE  s. 

ANNIE  D.      MARV  t>. 


I  am  five  years  old,  and,  with  my  sister,  who  is 
nine,  have  taken  your  pa  per  for  the  last  two  years. 
We  like  all  the  stories  very  much,  and  always 
read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box ;  so  we 
have  decided  to  write  yon  this  letter,  and  would 
like  ever  so  much  to  see  it  published  by  you.  I 
was  learning  to  ride  horseback  last  summer,  and 
one  .lay  fell  off.  Papa  then  said  I  must  wait  till 
I  was  older.  I  have  a  nice  little  dog  named  Dick  ; 
he  is  a  water-spaniel,  and  is  very  kind  and  full  of 
play.  I  go  to  Sunday-school,  and  sister  Susie 

foes  to  every-day-school.    Next  spring  mamma 
as  promised  that  I  may  wear  pants. 
Susie  and  I  send  you  $1  tor  Young  People's 

Tot.     \Ve   hope   it    will   help   to   make   son lie 

comfortable.  Si  OTT  D. 

Your  contribution  was  sent  to  Miss  Kanshawe, 
treasurer  of  the  Cot  Fund,  and  you  will  see  it 
acknowledged  in  her  next  report.  Very  glad  to 
hear  from  you  and  Susie  is  the  Postmistress. 


UNCLE  JOHN'S  VISIT. 

Little  Millie  Basset  lived  in  the  country,  and 
was  what  some  people  called  a  regular  little 
country  girl,  so  old-fashioned  in  her  ways,  she 
was  nearly  twelve  years  old.  and  had  gone 
through  all  the  studies  which  the  simple  little 
country  school  required,  and  that  was  not  very 
much.  She  often  Thought  she  would  like  to  live 
in  the  city,  and  enjoy  the  many  advantages  city 
children  of  her  own  age  enjoyed,  more  fortunate 
than  herself.  But  Millie  was  a  poor  little  girl, 
she  being  an  orphan,  and  lived  with  a  dear  old 
aunt,  who  took  sewing  into  the  house  or  small 
cottage  in  which  they  lived,  and  was  very  often 
pinched,  and  had  a  hard  time  to  make  both  ends 
meet,  but  had  so  far  succeeded  in  keeping  the 
rent  paid.  Sometimes  kind  Uncle  John  sent  af- 
fectionate letters  with  money  in  them:  but  he 
thought  they  were  very  comfortable,  while  they 
were  very  far  from  it. 

"  Well,"  said  Aunt  Jennie,  as  Millie  came  from 
the  post-office  one  day,  "what  have  you  in  your 
hand.  Millie  dear?" 

"  ( )h.  a  letter.  Aunt  Jennie,  from  Philadelphia  ; 
it  must  lie  from  Uncle  John." 

""pen  it,  child,  "said  the  a  tint ;  and  Millie  hasti- 
ly ton-  it  open.  It  was  a  little  note  saying  that 
Uncle  John  was  going  to  make  them  a  short  visit, 
as  he  had  not  seen  his  sister  in  a  long  time,  and 
had  never  seen  his  niece,  and  now.  as  he  had  a 
business  trip  taking  him  in  that  direction,  lid 
would  stop  and  see  them  both. 

The  days  flew  by  until  the  day  came  when  I  nclc 
John  was  expected.  An  hour  before  the  train 
came  to  the  little  station  Millie  and  Aunt  Jennie 
were  there  to  welcome  him.  After  a  very  te- 
dious waiting  the  train  came,  and  with  it  no 
Uncle  John— not  a  sign  of  him. 

They  very  slowly  walked  home,  and  Millie  went 


FEBRUARY  -J7,  1883. 


IIAIlPEirS  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


271 


<  ,nly  that  night,  unhappy  and  disappoint- 
ed, and  Aunt  .li-iinii1  hot  very  much  I"  tt< 

'|'|M>  next  morning  Millie  was  solus  to  Ihe  vil- 
lage  <>ii  an  ei-ranii.  uheii  she  \\as  Btoppi 
\emrahle  middle-aged  selitleinan  lo  impure  it 
she  knew  where  Miss  Jennie  Taylor  lived.  Millie 
smiled,  and  s:,jd  it  was  her  aunt  :  and  when  Ihe 
- i  man  int'"nn<''l  her  In-  \\as  tn-r  uncle  John, 

they    walked    home    together    lery   i|l]iekl>          It     is 

needless  to  describe  the  happy  meet  in:,'  bet  \\  ecu 
Aunt  Jennie  ami  Uncle  John,  and  the  numberless 
presents  he  brought.  Anil  when  In-  saw  the  way 

the\    uep-    Ining    he    Hlsl-teil   they  should  come  til 

his  home  in  tin-  rity  to  live,  and  Millie  should 
have  the  he-it  education  niMIiey  could  procure; 

and.  besides,  he  needed  a  little  girl  to  brighten 

Ilis   III  Hill' 

Millie  grew  up,  under  her  uncle  and  aunt's  guid 

aliee.  a  good.  Useful  w..i:ian.  and  often  tells  her 
children  the  story  of  I'ncle  John's  visit. 

G.J.L. 

N..ILTII    \V.II,I)1TI1I-K,    .".I*  SUTII-I'T. 

I  have  wanted  to  write  a  little  letter  to  you  for 

ll  Ions  time.  VOI-N<;  I'Kort.K  has  heen  my  Christ- 
mas present  from  my  unele  II.  \V,,  in  Hiistmi.  for 

two  years  [  have  a  sister  twelve  years  old.  and 
a  brother  ten,  and  t  In  \  receive  tin-  FbufA'a  ' ""> 

l,tn,n>n  and  the  IT/-/-  A>rn/;>   from  tin-  -aim-  ntn-le 

\\*e  ha\e  a  large   Maek  and  white  eat    we  eall 

Samiio  :  he  is  about  ei^ht  years  old,  and  so  am  I. 

Mamma  had  the  doetor  come  and  pull  a  tooth 
for  linn  last  week,  heeailse  it  niadi-  linn  siek.  and 
he  Idn't  eal  The  doetor  did  him  all  up  in  a 

sheet,  exeept   his  head,  when  he  pulled  it         lie  has 

ill-en  alii  uin  ever  sim-e. 

I   like  the  story  of  "Nan"  en,    SO    much,  and 

like  to  1:1 -t  t  he  mail  I'm  -<  la)  s,  as  t  hat  is  t  he  da> 
tin  paper  usually  mines. 

with  much  love  to  you,  dear  Postmistress. 
C.KS.  i   A  r 

This  is  the  first  time  that  I  ever  heard  of  a  eat 
\vhieh  had  had  a  tooth  extraeted.     1  am  glad  Ihe 

operation  \,  .1  -  succi  --t'ul. 


•-     I    V,.I:K   I-ITV. 

I  am  a  little  hoy  eleven  years  old.  and  am  a 
..•real  admirer  of  your  valuable  paper,  which  1 
•think  is  the  best  ju\enile  paper  in  Ihe  I  nited 

states     [  like  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  vei 

i  mil  i  il       I  i|.  >  noi  L'"  t ' '  seh  oo  I,  hut  am  taught  at 
h.  mil    li\   a   \i-itln_'  - 1  i\  erness.  whom  I  love  dear 

Jy      Her  name  is  Miss  I!      My  two  sisters  and  lllj 

self  have  i  111  pro  \  ed  very  tlHleh  under  In  I-  I  II  il  1'  .11. 
in   I   I   like  being  taught  at   home  a  sreat   il 
ter  than  ur"iug  to  sehool.     M\   eldest    sister  and 
in      .11  study  history,  arithmet  i,  .  spelling,  ih-lini 
tioos, grammar, geography. etc      MI  uni 

le\    ,11.1111    I'.i  llama     came   to   pay  Us   a   ^  Isil    for  a 

month  or  so,  and  brought  with  Dim  si  .me  tropic 
al  fruits  and  sweetmeats  D\\IKI,  I,. 

Manly  hoys  always  ail  mire  t  heir  teaeliei  -       i  t 

of  these  daxs.  i  suppose, you  win  i"  wanting  to 

return    I'nele  Charley's   visit    in    Panama.      And 
what  will  you  take  to  him  from  New  York* 


M.'STI  ' 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.    I  take  YOI  M; 
TKOI-LK.  and  I  think  ' Nan"  is  a  beautiful  story. 

M\  p.  i  pa  anil  mamma  always  read.]  immy  Brown's 
stories  1  would  like  to  ciilti\'ate  that  boy's  ae 
quailllance.  Perhaps  I  he  Postmistress  would  like 
to  hear  a  deseriplioll  ot  the  lee  Palace  we  had 

here.  The  tower  ill  the  centre  is  quite  high,  and 
on  lop  of  lhat  is  a  lol  of  evergreens  formed  into 
a  I  ree  Then  on  each  corner  are  smaller  towers 
with  small  evergreen  trees;  and  the  r<-sl  of  tin- 
Ice  Palace  is  a'l  pillars  When  it  was  illuminated 
by  el.-etrie  lights  it  looked  beautiful, for  theelec 
trie  liu'lil  s  east  a  rosy  hue  all  oxer  1  In-  lee  Palace. 
I  hope  mv  letter  will  be  among  those  in  one  of 
the  numbers  of  YOIM;  PKOPI.K.  I  have  a  little 
sister  Laura,  who  is  live  years  old.  Laura  and  I 
have  each  sot  a  little  bird  ;  Laura's  is  Dicky,  and 
mine  is  signor  campaniui.  hut  we  call  him  Campy 
for  short.  They  are  both  beautiful  singers.  Now 
good  by. 


:  ( '.  s. 


LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

1  KK-i\o,  CALIFORNIA. 

DE  ui  POSTMISTRESS.— T  am  an  old  sir],  with  two 
liille  sirls  of  my  own.  and  they  are  very  experi- 
enced critics  of  cakes ;  so,  encouraged  by  their  ap- 

probation  of  the  "hereinafter  mentioned"  cakes. 
1  venture  to  send  you  one  or  two  receipts,  ho  pint; 
lhat  Ihe  ymms  members  of  the  Sociable  ma>  en 
j.i\   I  hem  as  much  as  we  do. 
The  lirsl  is  an  ttntr  /u'/mii  Mississippi 
GINOEBBBEAD.— Three  and  a  half  cups  labout 
one  and  three-quarter  pints)  of  flour,  one  cup  of 
hrown  suirar,  one  cup  of  butter,  one  cup  of  cream 
or  milk  lit'  the  latter,  allow  an  extra  table-spoon- 
ful of  butteri.  one  clip  of  molasses.  In  c  CUX'S.  one 

ounce  of  ground  ginger,  one  dcsscrt-sjioonl'iil  of 
{.'round  clove  .  and  one  tea-spoonful  of  soda. 
Cream  the  bin  ter  very  light  :  heat  the  eggs  sepa- 
rately very  light  :  heat  the  soda  idissolved  in  boil 
ing  water)  into  tin-  molasses  until  that  too  is  light. 
Mix  as  follows:  into  the  yolks  heat  alternately 
sugar,  milk,  and  butter;  then  the  molasses  and 
.the  spices  ;  thenihe  stiff  whites  ;  flour  last.  Bake 


like  pound-rake.     This  is  very  rich  and  very  dc- 
liclous. 
DANISH  COOKIFS. — One  and  a  half  pounds   of 

flour,  twelve   OUnCeS    "I    butter,  twelve  ounces   of 

siiL-ar.  t  hn-e  I-I:L'S.  t  hree  table-spoonfuls  ot  sweet 

en-am,  and    two    teas] nfllls    of    Veast    powder. 

Crcalll   the    blllter:    belli    the   e-^s   separate^    .    l,,i| 

very  thiu  :  cut  and  bake  like  i kie- 

D\MMI   I  \-iii:  i    IK]       ''in-  pint  of  cream  lor 
fresh  milk),  one  pound  of  flour,  and  twelve  ounces 

ill    blllter   lit'   Illilk    is    llscll.   thirteen    ounces   of   bllt- 

ti  i         Mix    the  cream  and    Hour:    then    roll    out. 

dot  with  butter, fold,  and  roll:  do  this  several 
times.     Then  cut  in  loni:  strips.  la>  each  in  a  rim; 

shape,  brush   the    top    \\itll    the    beaten   yolk   of  an 

1-1:1;.  and  sprinkle  thickly  with  su^ar.     Let  them 
be    about    an    inch    thick    before    Un-in^       ll.tke 
qulcklj 
These  are  all  very  delicious  cakes,  as  I  hope 

many  of  youi rrespoinlent  s  will  pn  i\  e 

Yours  always  appreciatively. 

Mrs   II.  B.  D. 
Many  thanks  for  your  kindness  in  sending  us 

1 : -  .     eeipls. 


M  v  ni:.\H  I.ITTI  K  l''i:!>:\ris.  —  Perhaps  I  am  not 
enouu'h  of  a  cook  to  join  your  Sociable,  but  I 
know  I  am  fond  of  all  L'ood  things  thai  sonic  one 
else  has  cooked  Mo\\  ,-\  er.  as  I  am  ^'i  iinur  to  try 
and  learn,  perhaps  yon  will  let  me  in.  an-  i 

-"Mutinies  make  \ery  nice  candy,  I  will  send  a 

CKKA^I  A  I  M" MIS  Two  and  a  half  cups  of  tine 
SIII.MI-  and  halt  a  cup  ot  water;  boil  tour  min- 
utes: then  beat  until  cold  enough  to  handle; 
mould  over  almond  nuts,  and  roll  m  coarse  siiL'ar 

Will  somebodj   who  tries  this  write  and  tell 

me  ho\\    -In  A  M  1  1  M     1 


-  -.   ll.A. 

We  li          .  .-lid  pudding,  which  we  are  all 

VCrj    l-'iid  ol.aiiil  perhaps  it  ma\  hi    ofllS6  !o  the 
<ithcr    little    cooks,    as    it     is    plain.   Hot     eXpehsi\e. 

and  very  n I.  FLOIU   '      M  M  OB]  OOB 

Si  RPRIS]    '    \i. lar^e  cup  1. 1    siiL-;n-.  one 

CUp  Ol   sweet   milk,  half  a  cup  of  butter,  t  v,  o  and 

a  hall  cup-  i  a   lli  .in-.  I  \\  o  lea  spoonfuls  ,  if  eri  am 

..  i  .  .  .m    1 1  ,i  -pi  >oii!  id  of  soda,  and  one  <'^ 

1,'IMIIM      I  III    MC     I'l    lllilM.         I  111,-    clip   of   lllolas- 
ses.  i  ,ne  cupol  sweet  milk,  one  cup  of  raisins,  one 

table  spoonful  of  butter,  one  tea -spoon  t'ul  of  soda. 

and   one   teas( nful    ol    salt:    Ilmir   enoiii:h    to 

make  a  stiff  batter;  pul   in  a  mould, and   3ti   Lm 
t«o  hour-. 

r:s..i  v«  ...MI,  \vw  .I..    .  , 
!  vou  a  receipt  ot  ••  <i<  iM'-  cup  cake"  which 

I  have  tried  and  found  very  nice        Kiuru  I,   H. 

POLL'S   Cie  CMU:      One   doll's   cup   of   butter, 

I  \\  o   doll's    cups    of    siiL'ar.   three   doll's   cups   of 

llolir,  one    doll's    ellp    ot    milk,  one    CL.'ir,  oli 

s| tiful  of  baking-powder,  and  mnn  - 


I'fX/.I.KS   FROM   Yol'MJ   CoNTRIIil  TORS. 
No.  i 

TWO   i  \-  \    \\  i  u:ii  -ivti   \  1:1  - 

].— 1.  Soineihini;  used   in   war      -.'.  Somelhini; 
ethereal      :l     \  medley       I.  An  instninn  m 

EUREKA. 

8.— 1.  Kxposcd      a.  The  head.    "    \   celebrated 
volcano.     I.  Not  distant  11    I!. 


No.  x.'. 

l-ol   K    I    \-l     I'l  VMdNDS. 

l._l.  A  letter.  ~>.  To  observe.  3.  A  wild  ani- 
mal. -4.  Termination.  r>.  A  letter. 

•J.— 1.  A  letter,  a.  An  animal.  :).  A  town  in  i  e  r 
many.  4.  A  number.  5.  A  letter. 

KING  CHARLES. 

3.— 1.  A  letter.  •-'.  A  space.  :i.  Extreme.  4.  A 
vein-table  production.  5.  A  letter. 

4.— 1.  In  cat.  a.  Skill.  3.  A  tahle  utensil.  4.  A 
hoy's  nickname.  r>.  In  hat.  EUREKA. 


No.  3. 

TWO   ENIGMAS. 

1.  Mv  first  is  in  day.  but  not  in  iiislit. 

My  second  in  run.  but  not  in  walk. 
My  third  is  in  play,  hut  never  in  fight. 

My  fourth  is  in  dumb,  hut  not  in  talk. 
My  fifth  is  in  .June,  but  not  in  July. 
My  sixth  is  in  plenty,  yet  not  in  supply. 
My  whole  is  a  poet  of  such  renown 
England  save  him  the  Laureate's  crown. 

i.  My  first  is  in  broad,  lint  not  in  narrow. 

Mv  second  is  in  house,  hut  not  in  hovel. 
My  third  is  m  <}rus,  also  in  harrow. 

My  fourth  is  in  tongs,  but  not  in  shovel. 
My  fifth  is  in  verse,  hut  not.  in  rhyme. 
Mv  whole  is  a  poet  for  every  time. 

NINA  T. 


No.  4. 

NUMERICAL  ENIGMA. 

I  am  a  famous  motto,  and  am  composed  of  13 
letters. 


My  !i.  ti.  11  is  a  numb,  i 

M\  -J.  hi  is  an  interjection. 

M\   ::.  ;:.-''  i~  suitable. 

M.v    in.  t.ii  i-  to  cut. 

My  1.  11.  ]•.'. ',  is  domestic. 

My  a,  4,ii  is  to  unite. 


ARTIII-R  T. 


ANS\VKl;s  To   IM'X/t.KS  TN  No.  171. 

\n    1 
1.  Stood  little  Molly  by  the  sate; 

Her  cousin  Arthur  cried,  "Please  wait. 
There's  coaslimr  by  the   river-bank; 
Lei's  so  tor  Bessie,  Jean,  and  Hank." 
Said   Molly.  "  If  Ihe  ice  is  thin. 
There's  danger  lest  we  tumble  in. 
Tt    really  makes  me  creep  and   shake, 
The  thought   of  colds  we  all   would   take" 
"Oh.  little  co/.."  said    Arthur.  "  \\  hy 
To    tind    oil  jeet  ions   do    you    t  ry  ? 
The  snow  is  tirm.  the  air  is  nice, 
And  glitters  brilliantly  the  ice. 
And  on  my  word  you  may  depend. 
That   soon  our  winter  sports  will  end  ; 
So  hush  the  fears  that  stir  your  breast. 
And   hurry,  dear:  here  come'  the  rest." 

•„'.  Then,  skipping  b>,  came   Lou  and   Hal, 

And  Kittle,  Minnie,  Jack,  and  all; 

\nd  "  Do  "'  they  cried,  and   pleaded  oh  ! 
With  cheeks  and   lips  like  slais  a^low 
Then  Molly,  laughing,  answered,  "Look. 
Tin  re's  Uncle  Jim  with  hell  and  book, 
\inl    by  his  fro\\  n   I   fear  \\  c  may 
I  , \pecl    to  ci  ias!    sonic  other  da  \  . 
Since   s.inic  of  us   \\ilh   little  ease 
Must  eoasl  ihrou^h  fractions,  if  yon  please.' 
Al   tills  they  hade  her  eo  t»  sehool, 
But  said  they  could  not   be  so  dull. 
1    \\  hiiticr.     X.  Holmes. 

No.  a.       II.  \V.  Lou-fellow.    Snowball. 


No    8. 


No.  I 


No  B, 


M  \  L  A   R    I    A 

\  B  A  C   O  T 

I,  A  c   K  D 

A  C  K    R 

I,'  O  D 

I  T 
A 

H    I-:    N         RAT         ROY 
i:    \      \          A    T   E        ORE 

N    A    T         T    1-:    X         YES 

M 

P   A  T 

POL  A    R 

M    A    I.    I-:  F    I    C 

T    A    F  I    A 

R    I  A 

C 


The  answer  to  "  Who  \\  as  lie."  ,,n  page  354,  of 
No.  171,  is  \\  illiam  shakspcare. 


Correct  answers  to  pn/./lcs  have  been  received 
from  Ueaii-ice  stone,  Fannie  Cochrane.  Judith 
\\  .  inl.i  rur.  Archie  McKen/,ie,  Nina  and  Willie 
Taliafeno.  Minola.  Dei  II.  Haldwin,  Caroline  .]. 
Lyman.  Florence  chambers.  [Jessie  \Vashbiirn. 
l-.li/a  M  Dibbles.  Florence  Crcason,  Fdna  Con- 
nor. Arthur  Carhart.  Kurcka.  Alice  C.  sturses, 
l.mm.i  D  I'.aile) ,  Aleck  Fowler.  John  Burr.  Ills 
Mother  and  George  P..  Kilbourne,  Louise  Kay. 
Jennie  Dearborne.  Thomas  Ives,  Elsie  K..  Ma^uie 
clarkson,  Arthur  llaneroft .  ,Iohn  C.  Sutherland, 
Nelly  liateville,  \',  (ieorsinii  Jackson.  W  T  .  or- 
rili  R.  Jinld,  Krncst  Wolkwit/.,  L.  Sacchi,  Florence 
Nisjitinsale,  Wilbur  \V  P.assett.  Daisy  and  Pink, 
Susie  Dean.  Ruby  c.,  Tim,  Fred,  and  Re^sie  R., 
M.m_;ie  Kip,  and  S.  L.  C. 


|  /-;v  Bxchang<  ••.  ei  e  '-'</  ami  &l  pagrf  of  cnrer.} 


SKRIA.L. 


"THE  RAISING  OF  THE  'PEARL.'" 
I'.v  JAMES  OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "Tm-.v  TYLER,"  "TIMAND  Tir,"  AMI 

"Mil.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER." 

In  our  next  issue  our  yoims  rea.lers  will  find 
Ihe  familiar  name  of  MR.  OTIS  at  the  head  of  a. 
new  serial  story.  It  is  always  a  pleasant  occa- 
sion when  MR.  OTIS  begins  to  tell  us  a  new  Ions 
story,  and  at  such  a  time  HARPER'S  VOI-M;  PHU-I.I: 
is  sure  of  a  specially  enthusiastic  welei  mie  in  6V 
cry  household.  The  author  of  "Toby  Tyler"  is 
justly  regarded  as  a  princeamong story-tellers  for 
little  people,  and  the  fact  that  he  tells  a  story  is  a 
sufficient  guarantee  of  its  interest.  The  hoys  will 
be  delighted  with  "Thf  Raisins  of  the  '  Pearl.'  " 
be-,  in  addition  to  its  being  the  work  of  their  fa- 
vorite author,  it  is  also  a  boating  story,  the  Pearl 
beins  a  jaunty  little  yacht  first  rescued  from  a 
watery  grave  by  a  party  of  boys,  and  then  fitted 
up  into  a  sea-worthy  craft,  in  which  a  cruise  is 
made  entailing  thrilling  adventures  and  enter- 
taining experiences  of  all  kincis. 


272 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Tlif  latter  seemed,  however,  to  lie  having  ,1  quarrel  among 
themselves.  They  fought  in  couples,  their  antler-like  horns  in- 
terlocked, and  each  pair  struggled  madly  together  until  one  or 
other  dropped  to  the  ground  exhausted,  leaving  the  victors  to 
lick  up  the  sap  like  greedy  gluttons. 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  rage  of  battle,  however,  tin-  slightest 
noise  put  them  quickly  on  the  alert.  On  the  breaking  of  a 
twig  they  would  raise  themselves  at  once,  as  if  on  the  lookout 
for  a  danger  more  alarming  than  the  quarrels  in  which  they  wi-ru 
engaged.  Toward  night-fall  most,  of  the  roisterers  buzzed  a\\  ay 
homeward,  and  the  naturalist  soou  followed  their  example. 


H 


KAKEMONO. 

BY    FRANK    BELLEW. 

ERE  is  a  new  game  that  I  have  learned,  and  I  think  the 
young  people  would  like  it.  Each  one  of  the  company 
•writes  on  a  piece  of  paper  a  subject,  for  example,  "  A  Boy  Chasing 
Cows,"  and  then  doubles  the  paper  over.  Then  the  next  takes 
it,  and  draws  a  picture  illustrating  the  subject.  The  second, 
•who  draws  the  picture,  can  look  at.  the  subject,  but  the  next 
must  only  look  at  the  picture,  and  then  make  a  piece  of  poetry 
describing  it.  Here  is  one  example  of  what  we  accomplished 
one  day  when  we  were  playing  Kakemono. 

SUBJECT. — '•  Southern  Life  and  Customs." — A  scene  in  the 
sunny  South  before  the  war;  slaves  at  work  in  the  cotton  field. 
To  which  was  written  the  following  poetry: 

"  Ah.  what  a  mess  this  is  ! 

I  can't  make  head  or  tail  on't ; 
I  don't  know  wtiat.  it  means. 

I  don't  know  what  they  want. 
Men,  women,  and  children  all. 

As  they  stand  in  a  row  in  the  sun, 
Seem  to  be  attacked  by  bees. 

And  if  they  had  sense  they'd  run. 
But  what  the  Indians  are  doiiiK 

Passes  my  comprehension, 
Children  unless  they  are  chopping  up, 

To  decrease  the  population." 

One  rule  more  :  Whoever  draws  the  picture  must  not 
•write  anything  to  explain  it. 

EXPLANATION. — Those  down  below  who  were 
taken  for  Indians  are  negroes  killing  and  pick- 
ing chickens. 


HUMBUG! 

IE  derivation  of  this  word,  now  in  such  common  use,  is  not 
generally  known  ;  but  it  is  of  Scotch  origin.  There  w  as  in 
former  years  residing  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Mearns,  in 
Scotland,  a  gentleman  of  landed  property,  whose  name  was 
Hume  or  Home  ;  and  his  estate  was  known  as  the  Bogne.  From 
the  great  falsehoods  that  "  Hume  of  the  Bogue"  was  in  the  habit 
of  relating  about  himself,  his  family,  and  everything  connected 
with  him,  it  soon  became  customary,  w  hen  persons  heard  any- 
thing that  was  remarkably  extravagant  or  absurd,  to  say,  "That 
is  a  Hume  o'  the  Bogue!"  The  expression  spread  like  wild-fire 
over  the  whole  country,  and  by  those  who  did  not  understand 
the  origin  of  the  phrase,  and  applied  it  only  to  any  extravagant 
action  or  saying,  contracted  it  into  one  word,  and  corrupted  it 
to  "  Humbug." 

We  must  define  humbug.  It  is  not  naked  untruth.  A  dra- 
per's assistant  who  tells  a  lady  that  a  dress  will  wash  when  it 
will  nut,  does  not  humbug  her,  he  merely  cheats  her.  But  if  he 
persuades  her  to  buy  a  good-for-nothing  muslin  by  telling  her 
that,  he  has  sold  such  another  to  a  duchess,  he  humbugs  her, 
whether  he  speaks  truly  or  not.  He  takes  advantage  of  her 
vanity  and  small  mind  in  order  to  persuade  her  to  buy  his  goods. 
Humbug  thus  consists  in  making  people  deceive  themselves,  by 
telling  them  something  from  which  by  reason  of  their  ignorance, 
weakness,  or  prejudice,  they  draw  wrong  conclusions. 


THE  BEETLES'  BANQUET. 

IT  must  not  be  supposed  that  ele- 
gant dinners  are  confined  to  hu- 
man beings  alone.     Rich  feasts  are 
often     enjoyed     by    animals,  and 
even    insects,  as    the    following 
account  of  a   naturalist's    expe- 
riences will  show. 

He  was  lying   in    his   garden 
one  warm  afternoon  in  summer, 
under  the  shade  of  an  old  oak- 
tree,  when  a  peculiar  rustling 
noise  struck  his  ear.     Shortly 
afterward   a   black   object  fell 
to    the    ground,    which,  on    ex- 
amination, proved  to  be  a  stag- 
beet  le.       When     he    saw    it    it 
was  preparing  to  climb  the  tree 
from  which  it  had  tumbled  down. 
Looking  upward, the  observer  no- 
tieed  a  curious  brown  mass  seven 
or  eight,  feet  up  the  trunk. 

Desiring  to  know  what  it  really 
was,  the  naturalist  obtained  a  ladder 
to  examine  into  the  matter  more  close- 
ly.    He  found  that  sap  was  coming  from 
the  bark,  and  that  around  this  dainty  dish 
a,  large  number  of  different  insects  were  col- 
lected.    Large  ants  were  there,  and  groups  of 
flies  and  angry  hornets.      But   most  conspicuous 
among  the  self-invited  guests  were  the  stag-beetles, 
of  whom  tweuty-four  were  counted,  besides  more  than 
a  dozen  that  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  having  clearly  eaten 
more  than  was  good  for  them. 


"WHO'LL   GET  THERE    FIRST?" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED  .WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV. -NO.  175. 


i:v   HARPER  ^    HROTIIEES,  NEW  FORK. 


PRICK    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  Malvh  li,  1883. 


i--    ,  l.y   HAKI-KU  it 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


RAISING  THE "  PEARL,"-By  James  Otis, 

AUTIIOU  OP  "TOBY  TTLEK,"  "Tui  AND  TIP,"  ".Mil.  STI'LBS'S  BUOTHEE,"  ETC. 


I 


(  II  AFTER  I. 

CAPTAIN  SAMMY'S  OFFER. 

D  risk  the  chances  of  raising  her  if  she  was  ours,  and 
it  wouldn't  be  such  a  very  hard  job,  after  all.      She 


must  be  within  ten  feet  of  low-water  mark,  and  the  water 
there  at  ebb-tide  can't  be  more  than  four  feet  deep." 

This  remark  was  made  by  the  eldest  of  three  boys  who 
were  standing  on  the  shore  of  Hillsborough  Bay,  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  little  town  of  Tampa,  in  the  State  of 
Florida;  and  it  referred  to  a  small  steam-yacht,  the  spars 
and  smoke-stack  of  which  were  just  visible  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  water. 


274 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


These  boys,  Darrell  Evans,  his  brother  Charley,  and  his 
cousin  Robert  Hayes,  were  New  York  boys  who  had  been 
permitted  to  accompany  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans  to  Florida  in 
the  latter's  search  for  health.  There  had  been  some  dis- 
cussion as  to  whether  the  boys  should  be  allowed  to  make 
the  journey,  but  on  its  being  proposed  they  pleaded  so  hard 
to  be  allowed  to  go  that  the  doubts  of  their  parents  had 
been  finally  overcome. 

One  argument  the  boys  used  was  that  there  would  be 
no  occasion  for  them  to  neglect  their  studies  because  they 
were  in  a  different  part  of  the  world  from  where  their 
homes  were  located.  Books  could  be  carried  along,  and 
there  was  no  reason  why  their  lessons  should  not  be  con- 
tinued as  regularly  as  if  they  had  remained  at  school. 

Tampa  had  been  selected  by  the  physicians  as  the  place 
where  the  invalid  should  spend  the  winter,  and  the  boys 
on  their  arrival  were  greatly  disappointed  at  finding  that 
they  were  not  on  the  coast,  where  they  could  realize  their 
dreams  of  turtle-fishing  and  sponge-gathering. 

On  the  second  day  after  their  arrival  one  of  the  boys 
of  the  town  had  told  them  of  a  famous  little  steam-yacht 
which  Captain  Sammy  Basset  owned,  but  which  had 
been  run  on  a  rock,  a  short  distance  from  the  town,  and 
sunk. 

Captain  Sammy,  whom  this  boy  represented  as  being  a 
surly,  ill-tempered  old  sea-captain,  who  had  lost  one  leg 
by  a  pressing  invitation  from  a  shark,  had  not  done  any- 
thing toward  raising  his  property  from  her  watery  rest- 
ing-place, and  had  even  been  heard  to  say  that  she  might 
lie  there  until  she  went  to  pieces,  for  all  he  cared  about 
her. 

Of  course  the  boys  were  very  anxious  to  see  the  craft, 
even  though  they  could  have  no  idea  that  they  would  ever 
own  her,  and  on  the  first  opportunity  they  visited  the  spot 
where  she  lay,  regardless  of  the  heat  which,  even  in  No- 
vember, was  uncomfortable. 

From  what  it  was  possible  to  see  of  the  boat  beneath  the 
water  she  was  not  large,  but  to  the.  boys  sin-  appeared  to 
be  the  exact  fulfillment  of  their  idea  of  a  craft  for  their 
own  sailing.  It  seemed  a  shame  that  so  beautiful  a  boat 
should  be  left  to  go  to  pieces,  more  especially  since  the 
boy  who  had  first  given  them  information  regarding  her 
told  them  that  the  only  injury  she  had  sustained  was  a 
hole  that  had  been  stove  in  her  bow. 

"It's  a  shame  to  let  such  a  handsome  boat  stay  there, 
when  a  little  work  would  make  her  as  good  as  new;"  and 
there  was  a  very  decided  shade  of  envy  in  Charley's 
tones.  "There  certainly  ought  to  be  some  way  of  rais- 
ing her." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  we  could  buy  her  i" 
"There  is  only  one  thing  that  would  prevent  us,  Bob- 
by, and  that  is  our  not  having  the  money,"  laughed 
Dare.  "I  don't  think  this  party  has  got  more  than  ten 
dollars  in  cash,  and  that  amount  wouldn't  buy  the  paddle- 
boxes." 

"Perhaps  Captain  Sammy  would  let  us  have  her  cheap, 
.since,  he  says  lie  won't  do  anything  toward  raising  her, 
and  we  might  get  father  to  buy  her  for  us, "suggested 
Charley:  but  he  did  not  speak  as  if  he  had  any  very  great 
li"lii'f  in  such  a  possibility. 

' '  That  boy  who  told  us  about  her  said  that  Captain 
Sammy  was  a  regular  old  shark  himself,  so  I  guess  there 
isn't  very  much  chance  that  he  would  sell  her  unless  we 
should  pay  him  all  she  is  worth ;"  and  Dare  shook  his  head 
sadly  at  the  thought  that  the  owner  of  such  a  beautiful 
craft  should  be  such  a  disreputable  citizen. 

The  boys  were  so  deeply  engaged  in  conversation  that 
they  had  not  noticed  the  approach  of  a  short,  fat  man  with 
a  wooden  leg,  who  was  stumping  along  the  beach  at  a  fu- 
rious rate,  as  if  he  was  thoroughly  angry  with  himself  and 
every  one  around  him. 

"  Now,  then,  what  mischief  are  you  boys  up  to?  Are 
you  thinking  of  burning  my  boat?''  ho  growled,  rather 


than  said,  as  he  reached  the  yacht-admiring  group,  and 
his  presence  there  was  so  unexpected  that  the  boys  start- 
ed as  if  they  had  really  been  planning  some  act  of  mis- 
chief. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  answer  me  .'"  he  demanded,  fu- 
riously, as  the  boys  were  still  too  much  surprised  by  his 
appearance  to  speak.  ' '  Tell  me  what  you're  doing  here ;" 
and  the  little  man  jammed  the  wooden  stick  that  served 
him  as  leg  into  the  sand  much  as  if  he  was  trying  to 
make  a  passage  through  which  he  could  go  when  he  was 
ready  to  take  his  departure. 

"We  came  here  to  look  at  the  yacht,  sir,  "replied  Dare, 
angry  that  the  little  man  should  speak  in  such  a  way,  and 
conscious  that  they  were  doing  no  wrong.  "We  surely 
can't  do  any  mischief  to  a  sunken  boat." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  was  the  fierce  reply,  and  the 
one-legged  man  began  to  grow  red  in  the  face,  as  if  mak- 
ing every  exertion  to  keep  his  anger  within  bounds. 
"We'll  see  whether  you  could  or  not,  after  you  tell  me 
what  you  came  here  for." 

"  We  came  to  look  at  the  yacht." 

"Well,  what  were  you  going  to  do  then  ?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  sir,  "replied  Dare,  with  a  smile, 
as  he  began  to  think  that  the  greater  part  of  Captain  Sam- 
my's savage  manner  might  be  assumed. 

The  little  man  bored  at  the  hole  in  the  sand  in  an  impa- 
tient way,  and  then  asked,  speaking  each  word  with  a  jerk 
of  the  head  as  if  it  was  only  by  a  muscular  effort  that  he 
could  utter  it,  "Well,  now  that  you've  seen  the  yacht, 
what  are  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"I  don't  suppose  we  can  do  anything  about  it,"  re- 
plied Dare,  with  a  laugh;  "but  we  can't  help  thinking 
that  it  is  too  bad  to  let  such  a  nice  boat  lie  there  under 
the  water." 

"So  you  set  yourself  up  to  tell  Captain  Sammy  Basset 
what  he  shall  do,  eh  ?"  and  the  little  man  appeared  to  grow 
furious  again.  "  If  you  think  that  craft  ought  to  be  float- 
ed, why  don't  you  bear  a  hand  and  do  it  i" 

"We'd  be  glad  to  if  she  was  ours,  "said  Charley,  eager- 
ly, as  a  sudden  hope  came  to  him  that  perhaps,  after  all, 
some  bargain  might  be  made  with  the  owner. 

"So  you  couldn't  do  it  for  the  sake  of  helping  any  one 
else,  eh  :" 

"Indeed  we  could  and  would  if  you  wanted  us  to," 
replied  Dare,  quickly,  for  he  had  no  idea  of  being  consider- 
ed selfish  even  by  this  curious  stranger. 

"Well,  I  don't  waiit  you  to  help  me," snapped  Captain 
Sammy,  "and  I  suppose  I  can  do  as  I  want  to  with  my 
own  property,  even  if  she  does  go  to  pieces.  But  I  don't 
see  why  you  boys  should  have  come  away  out  here  just  to 
look  at  a  sunken  boat,  for  even  if  she  was  yours  and  ailoat 
and  ready  to  sail,  you  wouldn't  know  where  to  go  with 
her." 

"Indeed  we  should,  "said  Charley,  quickly;  "we  should 
sail  straight  for  the  Caloosahatchee  River,  and  go  through 
that  into  Lake  Okeechobee,  in  order  to  get  into  the  Ever- 
glades." 

"What  do  you  know  about  the  Everglades,  and  why  do 
you  want  to  go  there?"  snarled  Captain  Sammy,  at  tin- 
same  time  seating  himself  on  the  sand  as  if  he  intended 
the  conversation  should  be  a  long  one. 

"We  don't  know  very  much  about  them,  and  perhaps 
that  is  the  reason  why  we  are  so  anxious  to  go.     I  have 
read  that  scientific  men  think  the  entire  lower  portion  of 
the  State  was  originally  formed  of  coral  reel's,  and  that  in 
the  Everglades  the  form  of  the  reefs  can  still  be  seen." 
"And  the  hunting  is  so  good  there !" 
•'And  the  fish  so  plenty!"  Charley  and  Bobby  added, 
eagerly. 

"I  guess  it  is  the  hunting  and  fishing  rather  than  any 
scientific  question  that  makes  you  want  to  go  there!"  and 
as  Captain  Sammy  spoke  he  came  very  near  smiling — 
an  act  so  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  his  supposed  char- 


MARCH  6,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


275 


acter.  that  had  any  of  tin-  villain'  boys  seen  it  they  might 
have  hccn  seriously  alarmed. 

Dan-  thomj-hi  i:  be-t  not  to  contradict  the  little  man,  for 

in  his  guessing  he  had  conic  too  near  the  truth  to  admit  of 
any  denial. 

••  Now  look  here"— and  Captain  Sammy  assumed  a  stern 
air  again  "arc  v  on  boy  s  so  foolish  as  to  helieve  yon  could 
float  that  yacht  it'  she  belonged  to  you  .'" 

••  I  believe  we  could, "was  Dare's  decided  answer,      "I 

don't  exactly  know  how  \ve  should  'jo  to  \\ork  to  do  it; 
but  1  am  sure  that  we  arc  able  to  yet  it  done  in  time." 

"She  is  forty  feet  long." 

'•  Larger  boats  than  she  have  1 n  raided  from  a  greater 

depth." 

"  She   is  tell    feet    wide." 

'•Then  it  would  be  easier  to  raise  her  than  if  she  was 
narrow  ." 

"  And  she  has  a  ten  horse  power  engine  on  hoard." 

"  A  <joo<l  deal  of  that  could  lie-  taken  out  at  low  water." 

"Then  her  port  bow  is  stove  in.  and  in  repairing  that 
it  will  he  necessary  to  put  nearly  a  new  bottom  on." 

"  Hut  •  of  Ihe  boy-,  lolil  us  that  she  was  Hat,  SO  it 

would  not  he  such  a  hard  job." 

Captain  Sammy  looked  at  Pare  a  moment  as  if  he  was 
angry  with  him  for  making  light  of  all  his  objections,  ami 
then  said,  in  a  musing  way.  which  raised  ( 'barley's  hopes 
verv  liiu'li  :  "There  couldn't  he  a  heller  boat  built  to 
crui-c  around  Florida  in  than  that  same  little  Pi-url  that 
lies  under  Ihe  water  llierc.  She  can  steam  eight  miles 
an  hour,  only  draws  lil'leen  inches  of  \\aler.  and  can 
stand  a  pretty  heavy  sea,  which  is  more  than  you  can  say 
for  some  large)'  crafts.  " 

"  Is  her  name  the  1'i'iirl  f"  asked  Hobby,  his  eyes  grow- 
ing larger,  and  his  desire  |o  own  such  a  boat  L'Tovv  im_  more 

intense,  as  Captain  Sammy  spoke  of  the  good  points  of  the 
sunken  steamer. 

"The  1'i'Hi'l.  of  Tani]>a  Hay."  continued  the  lilt  le  man. 
"Il)iiilt,  her  at  odil  jobs,  thinking  it  uould  lie  handy  to 

have   a    steam   craft    to   run   around   in.  for    1    oun   a    £ 1 

many  turtling  and  sponLrini:-  schooners,  and  have  to  run 
Icicl;  and  forth  a  good  deal.  I'.ul  1  found  that  there  was 
nothing  like  (lie  motion  of  a  sailing  craft,  and  when  a 
greenhorn  who  had  borrowed  the  I',-,irl  sunk  her  there. 
I  didn't  care  so  very  much." 

"  How  much  would  you  sell  her  for.  just  as  she  lies  .-" 
asked  hare,  forgetting  the  remark  he  had  made  a  short 
time  before  as  to  ihe  I'mances  of  the  parly. 

"I  ain't  trying  to  sell  her."  said  Caplain  Sammy,  with 
another  shou  of  anger:  "and  I  haven't  said  I  \\anted  to: 
bill  if  you  boys  have'  got  pluck  enough  to  raise  and  repair 
her.  you  shall  use  her  as  long  as  you  stay  in  Florida." 

"Do  you  mean  that:"  asked  Hare,  in  surprise,  and 
('liarlev  gave  Hohhy  such  a  triumphant  poke  with  his 
elbow  as  to  make  that  young  gentleman's  ribs  sore  for 
some  hours. 

"Of  course  I  meant  it,  or  else  I  shouldn't  have  said  it. 
But  mind  what  I  say.  if  you  don't  do  the  work  in  .ship- 
shape way  I  shall  take  a.  reef  in  my  offer." 

Not  one  of  the  three  boys  could  overcome  his  surprise 
at  the  little  Captain's  proposition  in  time  to  thank  him 
for  it,  for  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken  he  arose  and  hobbled 
rapidly  off,  as  if  he  feared  they  might  attempt  to  detain 
him. 

When  he  was  some  distance  away  he  turned  around  and 
shouted  loudly: 

"  Remember  that  the  job  has  got  to  be  done  properly,  or 
I  shall  back  out  of  the  bargain,  even  if  you  have  floated 
her;"  and  the:i  he  started  off  at  full  speed  again,  while  the 
three  boys  remained  looking  at  that  portion  of  the  yacht 
which  was  above  water,  as  if  they  needed  such  evidence 
to  convince  them  they  had  not  dreamed  of  instead  of 
heard  Captain  Sammy's  offer. 

[TO   HE   CONTINUED.] 


HY-AND-BY   AND  XKYFR. 

P,Y    ,10KT>    KENTON. 

mi-h  proverb  says  that  "by  tin-  rund  ef  Hy-and-liy  MHO  arrives 
at  the  house  "t   V 

THERE'S  a  dangerous  little  Afrile  \vlio  ;iccci-ts  us  day  by  day, 
Fp-eilini:  every  purpose   in   a   soft,  cut  icing  way. 
Sayinjr,  "  Hest  from  this.  I  pray  you.  for  to-morrow  you  can  try — 
If  hard  work  is  to  lie  dune,  you  can  do  it   Hy-and  by." 

Though   lie   tell   you   not    to  do  it. 

Mind  him  not.  or  you  will  rue  it. 

For  his  \vonl-  -o  -month  and  clever 

Take  you  to  the  house  of  Never. 

His  voice  is  like  a  siren's,  and  lie  always  aims  to  please; 
lit'-  as   iille  a-  a  /ephyr,  and   he  liids  you   take  your  ease; 
It   your  spirits  seem   to   falter,  ai   your  elhow   he  is  nigh, 
SaviiiLf.  "  Wail    a   little,  brother,  you  can  do   il    By-and  by." 

Though  lie   tell   you   not   to  do  it, 

Mind   him   not,  or  you  will  me  il. 

For  his  \\ords  so  -month  and  clever 

Take  you  to  the  house  of  Never. 

lie  commands  an  endless  future,  and  has  youth  upon  his  side, 
So   he   make-  your  little  horoscope   magnitieenlly   wide; 
(.Miile  disturbed  by  earnest  plodders,  he  appeals  wilh  witching  eye 
••  \\ 'hat's  voiir  hurry — wait  a  little — you  can  do  it  Ky-and-by." 

Though   he  tell   you  not   to  do   il. 

Mind  him   nol.  or  you  will   rue  it, 

For  his   words  SO  smooth   and  clever 

TaUe   \ou    to   tin'   house   of   Never. 

He's  a   tricky   little  prompter,  and   he  always  lingers  near. 
Knowing  just  the  proper  inomenl   when  m  whisper  in  your  ear; 
He  can  span  you   preiiy    rainbows,  and  make  fanciful  your  sky, 
With  hi-   magical   proviso  of  the  golden   Hy  and  by. 

Though   lie   tell   you   not   to  do   it. 

Mind   him  nol,  or  you  will   rue  it. 

For  his  words  so  smooth  anil  clever 

Take  you   to   the  house  of    Never. 

(In  your  eye-  li.    pres~.es  poppies,  on  your  will  he  puts  a  brake — 
.lu-t    l.i   ki  ep  you   soothed   and    idle,  any   trouble  he  will   take'; 
When  hi'  train-  y  on  to  his  harness — oh,  so  mischievous  and  sly! — 
Then  you'll  do/e  away    Ihe   present   iii  a  dream  of  By-and-by. 
Though  he  tell  you  nol   to  do  il, 
Mind  him  nol.  or  you  will  me  it. 
For  hi-   words  -o  -month   and  (•level- 
Take   vou  to  the  house  of    Never. 


MR.  BARNUM'S  BRIGHT  BARKKRS. 

BY  KmVAHI)  I.  STKVKXSON. 

IT  is  just  as  well  that  Mr.  P.  T.  Barnuin  is  so  good  a 
friend  to  young  people  and  the  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  Oth- 
erwise the  writer  of  this  article  might  not  have  found 
himself  where  he  did  on  the  only  sunshiny  day  of  last 
week — safely  within  the  Winter-quarters  of  the  Great 
Show,  at  Bridgeport,  Connecticut. 

A  beautiful  trained  horse  was  careering  furiously  round 
and  round  the  practicing  ring;  and  during  the  intervals 
when  Mr.  Fryer  was  not  smacking  his  whip  or  calling 
out.  "Steady,  Jerry!— look  out,  Jerry!"  he  busied  himself 
with  telling  his  visitor  something  about  his  wonderful 
performing  dogs. 

In  a  few  moments  the  white  horse  dashed  off.  Mr. 
Fryer  summoned  his  pets,  Sprite,  Jenny,  Frank.  Kelly, 
Cronian,  Sport,  Jerry,  and  little  Major,  to  entertain  his 
guest.  Their  pictures  had  been  already  taken  by  Mr. 
Church,  as  you  see  them  on  the  following  page.  Very 
exiruordinarv  were  the  doings  of  this  canine  family. 


276 


I-IAKPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


At  a  signal  from  Mr.  Fryer,  a  grand  entering  march 
takes  place.  The  eight  dogs  step  daintily  around  the  ring, 
and  then,  after  bowing  with  modest  tail  wags  to  the  audi- 
ence, they  seat  themselves  in  a  row.  Mr.  Fryer  thereupon 
stands  up  and  "calls the  roll."  Each  dog,  when  his  name 
is  spoken,  promptly  answers  it  with  a  joyful  "Bow-wow  !" 

Sprite's  turn  to  be  conspicuous  usually  comes  next. 
She  dances  as  pretty  a  polka  as  a  dancing-master  would 
desire  to  see ;  and  the  polka  having  gone  on  long  enough, 
she  respectfully  asks  Crouiau  for  the  honor  of  a  waltz 
with  him — leap-year  fashion.  C'ronian  bows  ami  stands 
up;  the  remainder  of  the  party  pair  off  gracefully,  and 
for  a  little  while  the  circus  ring  looks  like  a  ball-room. 

The  clever  feats  of  walking  on  a  rolling  barrel,  balan- 


is  held.  Major  hangs  his  head  sorrowfully,  and  puts  up 
his  paws  for  mercy.  Alas!  in  dumb  show  he  is  sentenced 
to  his  dreadful  fate. 

Nelly,  Crouiau,  and  a  wooden  wand  constitute  the  gal- 
lows, upon  which,  after  pretending  to  be  in  great  terror, 
Major  actually  suffers  himself  to  be  drawn  up  by  his  ex- 
ecutioners, and  suspended  for  some  seconds  several  inches 
from  the  ground.  The  rope  is  secured  to  his  own  collar 
in  such  a  way  that  the  little  dog  will  not  choke  in  good 
earnest.  Mr.  Fryer  has  lately  introduced  a  "  real''  gallows 
into  this  warning  scene.  It  was  the  last  feat  on  the  pro- 
gramme, and  as  Mr.  Fryer  called  his  pets  up  to  be  caressed 
and  stroked  it  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  them  all  standing- 
there  with  their  bright  eyes  and  gently  wagging  tails. 


CRONIAN. 


THE    BKIGHT    BAKKEKS    GOING    THROUGH    THEIR    PERFORMANCES. 


cing  upon  a  seesaw,  and  some  less  remarkable  tricks  suc- 
ceed. A  steeple-chase  race,  in  which  the  little  dogs  ride 
the  larger  ones,  and  stick  on  capitally  as  they  leap  over 
hurdles  of  quite  respectable  size,  follows  the  waltzing. 
Jenny  is  always  mounted  upon  Sport,  as  you  see  her  in 
the  picture.  Soon  after  bright  little  Major  is  told  to  go 
through  his  diilicult  swing-rope  act.  He  climbs  a  small 
ladder,  which  is  presently  taken  away,  and  balancing 
himself  in  the  trying  position  in  which  you  see  him,  he 
suffers  himself  to  be  swung'  backward  and  forward  with 
a  good  deal  of  speed,  contriving  never  to  fall  off. 

But  the  most  complex  and  interesting  performance  of 
Mr.  Fryer's  little  actors  is  the  grand  trial  scene  and  exe- 
cution of  a  thief.  Major,  Nelly,  Sprite,  and  Cronian  have 
the  principal  parts  in  this  moral  drama.  It  is  begun  by 
Nelly's  dropping  her  collar,  which  has  been  unloosed  for 
the  purpose,  as  she  walks  across  the  ring.  The  moment 
her  back  is  turned  little  Major  runs  up,  finds  the  collar, 
pretends  to  look  around  to  see  if  he  is  watched,  and  final- 
ly manages  to  stick  his  own  little  head  through  it  and  hie 
to  his  seat.  Nelly  quickly  feigns  to  iind  outlier  loss.  She 
looks  for  the  collar,  and  t;'oes  to  each  dog  to  make  inquiry. 
Quick  as  a  flash  she  spies  Major  and  his  prize,  and  sends 
Sprite  to  arrest  her  dishonest  brother. 

A  sharp  mock  fight  ensues  between  thief  and  constable, 
but  Major  finally  surrenders, and  submits  tohavinga  rope 
put  about  his  neck  and  to  being  dragged  before  Frank, 
Rick,  and  Jerry,  for  trial.  There,  after  Sprite  has  slipped 
the  rope  about  a  stake  to  more  securely  hold  the  culprit 
(still  keeping  the  end  in  her  mouth),  a  short  court-martial 


On  making  a  first  appearance  these  little  actors  are  not 
troubled  with  something  that  attacks  nearly  every  grou  n 
man  or  woman  under  such  circumstances — the  terrible 
complaint  called  "stage  fright.''  Without  timidity  or 
embarrassment  each  new-comer  goes  sensibly  and  quietly 
through  his  tricks,  as  if  no  eyes  were  looking  at  him  ex- 
cept his  tutor's.  Sometimes,  too,  they  introduce  of  their 
own  accord  little  variations  of  the  feats  in  hand — perhaps 
one  ought  to  write  "in  paw." 

When  Major  first  began  to  act  his  thievish  trick  with 
Nelly's  collar,  and  to  be  pursued,  captured,  and  brought 
into  court  by  Sheriff  Sprite,  lie  made  very  small  re- 
sistance, surrendering  himself  to  bis  fate  quite  meekly, 
(iradually  he  played  his  part  with  more  spirit,  until 
nowadays,  without  a  word  of  instruction  from  Mr.  Fryer, 
Sprite  has  a  downright  chase  to  take  him  prisoner  and 
bring  him  before  his  judges.  On  her  part,  Sprite  one 
day  found  out  that  she  could  not  hold  Major  so  readily 
when  before  the  bar  by  twisting  the  rope  only  once  around 
the  stake,  to  which  he  was  confined  as  prisoner.  Accord- 
ingly she  suddenly  took  to  walking  twice  around  it  with 
the  rope  in  her  mouth,  thus  making  the  culprit  doubly 
secure. 

"It  is  a  curious  fact,"  said  Mr.  Fryer,  as  his  gentle  pu- 
pils walked  off  with  a  self-satisfied  air,  "that  I  can  never 
deceive  Sprite  as  to  what  sort  of  spirits  I  am  in  on  any  day 
when  my  dogs  must  appear  in  public.  For  instance,  sup- 
poselhave  not  been  well  the  night  before,  am  tired,  or  have 
managed  to  catch  a  headache  or  something  of  that  sort. 
No  matter  "now  much  I  may  laugh  and  talk  loudly  and 


MARCH  6,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


277 


seem  as  jolly  as  you  please  to  the  audience,  that  dog  sees 
perfectly  well  that  I  am  really  making  an  effort,  and  I  as- 
sure yon  that  it  makes  a  <si-i-.il  dill'cn-nce  in  the  zest  with 
\\hicli  she-  enters  into  her  duties.  Her  great  eyes  are  on 
me.  ;md  she  seems  to  see  through  //(//  acting  perfectly  well. 
\Vlien  \ve  are  all  through  she  will  come  up  :is  meekly  as 
a  lamb  and  stand  lieside  me.  looking  up  into  my  fac. •.  as 
much  as  t<>  say  -.  '  You  didn't  feel  like  working  a  bit  to-day, 
did  you  ;  I  didn't  either.  Let's  sit  down  and  lie  qniet.' 
Ah,  they  ;ire  all  of  them  marvellously  sympathetic  and  af- 
I'eetion.-ile  creatures !  I  don't  know  which  of  us,  master  op 
pupils,  thinks  more  of  the  ot  her." 

Sprite  is  about   seven  years  old.       None  of  (he  dogs  are 

of  unmixed  hreed;  a  dog  partly  of  the  hull  and  partly  of  the 

S]ianiel  Species  seems  to  give  the   be-t    results  after  careful 

training. 

In  leaving  the  quarters  Mr.  Fryer  led  tlie  way  through 
the  immense  ele]ihant  -  house,  where  twenty  nine  ele- 
phants, tethered  ill  a  hu^v  square,  were  fed  and  cared 
for  hy  Mr.  Arstingstall.  the  great  trainer,  and  his  force 
of  under-keepers.  The  air  was  full  of  a  close  anil  not 
very  pleasant  odor,  and  now  and  then  a  roar  or  a  shrill 
scream  broke  the  stillness.  .liimho.  \\lio  was  chained  in 
an  exclusive  corner  at  tin-  end  of  the  line,  seemed  more 
gigantic  than  ever,  as  b'  swung  his  miirhu  trunk  about 
in  what  a] i] i< -a red  to  one  of  his  visitors  a  shockingly  care- 
less manner.  It  is  not  remarkable  that  the  uiant  ele 
pliant  should  look  more  enormous  than  lie  did.  for  a  win- 
ter of  rest  and  feeding  lias  tilled  out  his  formerly  lean  and 
lank  sides  with  fat.  and  even  added  an  inch  or  I  \\  o  to  his 
height.  He  looks  like  quite  a  dill'eivnt  crealure.  Ill' 
expects  to  receive  his  big  anil  little  friends  at  the  Madison 
Square  Garden  again  during  I  he  latter  part  o  I'  tins  month. 


THE  SAD  STORY  OF  A  BOY  KIX(i. 


r.y 


c  ARV   KH.LESTOX. 


LOXPON  took  a  holiday  on  the  ICth  of  July.  1377.  There 
were  ]>roc(  ssious  of  merry-makers  in  the  streets,  and 
the  windows  were  crowded  with  gayly  dressed  men,  wo- 
men. and  children.  The  great  lords,  glittering  in  armor, 
and  mounted  upon  splendid  steel-clad  horses,  marched 
through  th<'  town.  The  bishops  and  clergymen  in  gor- 
geous robes  made  a  more  solemn  but  not  less  attractive 
show.  The  trade  guilds  were  out  in  their  best  clothing, 
bearing  the  tools  of  their  trades  instead  of  arms.  Clowns 
in  motley,  merry  makers  of  all  kinds,  great  city  dignita- 
ries, lords  and  commons  e\  cry  body,  ill  short,  made  a  mad 
and  merry  holiday:  and  at  night  the  houses  were  illumi- 
nated, and  great  1  .....  tires  were  lighted  ill  the  streets. 

All  England  was  wild  with  303  :  but  thehappiesl  person 

in  the  land  was  Hichard  riantagenet  .  a  boy  eleven  years 
of  age.  I  ndeeil.  it  was  for  this  boy's  sake  and  in  his  honor 
that  all  this  feasting-  and  merry  making  went  on.  for  on 
that  day  youni:'  Richard  was  crowned  King  of  England; 
and  in  those  times  a  King  of  England  was  a  much  more 
important  person  than  no\\.  because  the  people  had  not 
then  learned  to  govern  themselves,  and  the  King  had 
powers  \\hich  Knglislimen  would  not  allow  any  man  to 
have  in  our  time. 

K'ichard  u  a>  loo  \  oiin^  to  govern  u  isely.  and  so  a  coun- 
cil was  appointed  to  help  him  until  he  should  grow  up; 
but  in  the  mean  time  he  was  a  real  King,  boy  as  lie  was, 
and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  he  was  the  happiest  hoy  in  Eng- 
land on  thai  .1  illy  day  when  all  London  took  a  holiday  in 
In-  I  ........  -. 

But  if  he  had  known  what  this  crowning  was  to  lead 


THE   PARTING  BETWEEN  KING   RICHARD   IT    AND   QUEEN   ISABELLA. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


to,  young  Kichard  might  have  been  very  glad  to  change 
places  with  any  bakers  or  butcher's  boy  in  London.  The 
boy  King  had  some  uncles  and  cousins  who  were  very 
great  people,  and  who  gave  him  no  little  trouble  after  a 
while.  He  had  wars  on  his  hands,  too,  and  needed  a  great 
deal  more  money  than  the  people  were  willing  to  give 
him,  and  so  when  he  grew  older  and  took  the  government 
into  his  own  hands  he  found  troubles  all  around  him.  The 
Irish  people  rebelled  frequently;  the  Scotch  were  hostile; 
there  was  trouble  with  Spain,  because  Eichard's  uncle 
wanted  to  become  King  of  that  country;  and  there  was  a 
standing:  war  with  France. 

But  this  was  not  all.  In  order  to  carry  on  these  wars 
the  King  was  obliged  to  have  money;  and  when  he  or- 
dered taxes  to  be  collected  the  common  people,  led  by 
Wat  Tyler,  rose  in  rebellion.  They  inarched  into  Lon- 
don, seized  the  Tower,  and  put  to  death  the  Treasurer  of 
the  'kingdom,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  many 
other  persons  high  in  the  government.  Tyler  was  so  in- 
solent one  day  that  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  killed  him; 
but  the  boy  King — who  was  only  sixteen  years  old— see- 
ing that  the  rebels  were  too  strong  for  him,  put  himself 
at  their  head,  and  marched  with  them  out  of  the  city, 
and  so  the  King,  against  whom  the  rebellion  was  made, 
became  the  leader  of  the  rebels.  As  soon  as  matters  grew 
quiet,  however,  he  broke  all  the  promises  he  had  made, 
and  punished  the  chief  rebels  very  harshly. 

Not  long  after  this  one  of  the  King's  uncles  made  him- 
self master  of  the  kingdom  by  force,  and  it  was  several 
years  before  Richard  could  put  him  out  of  power. 

But  the  greatest  of  all  Eichard's  troubles  were  yet  to 
come.  His  cousin,  Henry  Bolingbroke,  the  son  of  old 
John  of  Gaunt,  had  misbehaved,  and  Eichard  had  sent 
him  out  of  England,  not  to  return  for  ten  years.  But 
while  Eichard  was  in  Ireland  putting  down  a  rebellion 
there,  Henry  came  back  to  England,  raised  an  army,  and 
was  joined  by  many  of  the  most  powerful  men  in  the 
kingdom.  When  Richard  came  back  from  Ireland  Henry 
made  him  a  prisoner,  and  not  long  afterward  the  great 
men  made  up  their  minds  to  set  up  Henry  as  the  King  in- 
stead of  Eichard.  They  made  Eichard  sign  a  paper  giv- 
ing up  his  right  to  the  crown,  and  then,  to  make  the  mat- 
ter sure,  Parliament  passed  a  law  that  Richard  should  be 
King  no  longer. 

Eichard  was  only  thirty-three  years  old  when  all  this 
was  done,  but  after  so  many  troubles  he  might  well  have 
been  glad  to  give  up  his  kingship,  if  that  had  been  the  end 
of  the  matter.  But  a  King  who  has  been  set  aside  is  al- 
ways a  dangerous  man  to  have  in  the  kingdom,  and  it 
would  not  do  to  let  Richard  go  free.  He  might  gather  his 
friends  around  him  and  give  trouble.  So  it  was  decided 
that  the  unfortunate  man  should  be  shut  up  in  a  prison 
for  the  rest  of  his  .life. 

But  even  this  was  not  the  worst  of  the  matter.  Richard 
had  a  wife— Queen  Isabella — whom  he  loved  very  dearly, 
and  if  the  two  could  have  gone  away  together  into  some 
quiet  place  to  live,  they  might  still  have  been  happy  in 
spite  of  being  under  guard  all  the  time.  But  the  new 
King  would  not  have  it  so.  He  gave  orders  that  Richard 
should  be  shut  up  closely  in  a  prison,  and  that  Isabella 
should  go  back  to  France,  where  Eichard  had  married 
her. 

This  was  a  terrible  thing  for  the  young  man  and  his 
younger  wife,  who  might  have  had  a  long  life  of  happi- 
ness still  before  them  if  Eichard  had  never  been  a  king. 
But  Richard  had  been  King  of  England,  and  so  he  had  to 
give  up  both  his  freedom  and  his  wife. 

In  his  play  of  King  Hic/ninl  the  Second,  Shakspeare 
makes  a  very  touching  scene  of  their  parting.  In  the  play 
their  farewell  takes  place  in  the  street,  as  shown  in  our 
picture.  Isabella,  anxious  to  see  her  husband  once  more 
before  they  part  forever,  waits  at  a  point  which  she  knows 
he  must  pass  on  his  way  to  prison.  There  they  meet  and 


talk  together  for  the  last  time  on  earth.  The  words  which 
Shakspeare  puts  into  their  mouths  are  terribly  sad,  but 
very  beautiful.  You  will  find  the  scene  at  the  beginning 
of  Act  V.  of  the  play.  The  picture  shows  the  two  at  the 
moment  when  Richard  moves  away  to  his  prison,  leaving 
Isabella  to  mourn  for  him  in  a  nunnery  for  the  rest  of 
her  life. 

It  is  not  certainly  known  what  became  of  Richard  after 
he  was  taken  to  prison.  It  is  believed  that  he  was  mur- 
dered there— perhaps  starved  to  death— but  there  is  a  story 
that  he  got  away  and  lived  in  Scotland,  dying  there  in 
1410.  It  is  not  at  all  likely  that  the  story  is  true,  however, 
and  the  common  belief  has  always  been  that  he  died  or 
was  killed  in  Pontefract  Castle,  where  he  was  imprisoned. 

However  that  may  be.  Eichard's  life  was  a  terribly  un- 
happy one,  and  all  his  sorrows  grew  out  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  king.  If  he  could  have  looked  forward  on  that 
July  day  when  the  people  were  making  merry  in  his  hon- 
or, and  could  have  known  all  that  was  to  happen  to  him, 
instead  of  being  the  happiest  boy  in  England  on  his  coro- 
nation day,  he  would  have  been  the  most  wretched. 


THE  HERMIT  OF  MUGGINSVILLE  WOOD. 

BY  SUSAN  HARTLEY  SWETT. 

TOM  SWIFT  was  spending  the  winter  with  his  grand- 
parents away  off  in  the  country  where  there  were  deep 
pine  woods  and  logging  camps,  a  mountain  that  looked 
like  a  huge  loaf  of  frosted  cake  in  the  snow,  and  a  pond 
two  or  three  miles  long,  where  there  was  such  skating  as 
Tom  had  never  seen  before. 

But  Tom  was  a  very  busy  boy,  and  had  little  time  to 
indulge  in  skating  or  any  other  sport;  for  as  his  father 
was  dead  and  his  older  brother  John  a  cripple,  he*?onsider- 
ed  himself  the  head  of  the  family,  and  was  very  anxious 
to  become  its  support.  John  possessed  a  good  deal  of  tal- 
ent for  drawing  and  painting,  and  it  was  predicted  that  he 
would  become  a  great  artist  some  day  if  he  received  the 
right  instruction.  But  Mrs.  Swift,  though  she  worked 
very  hard  at  her  needle,  had  as  yet  been  unable  to  procure 
any  teacher  for  him,  and  it  was  to  this  end  that  Tom  was 
saving  his  money  now. 

All  the  men  in  the  neighborhood  who  were  not  either 
too  old  or  too  infirm  were  at  work  in  the  woods,  so  Tom 
was  employed  not  only  to  do  the  chores,  such  as  bringing 
in  wood  ancl  water,  feeding  the  cattle,  and  going  to  mill, 
about  his  grandfather's  farm,  but  on  several  others  near 
by,  and  he  had  already  placed  fifteen  dollars  in  his  bank. 
He  bravely  renounced  the  molasses  tally  and  marsh 
mallow  paste  at  the  village  store,  turned  his  back  on  the 
thrilling  shows  at  the  Town-hall,  sported  a  broken  jack- 
knife  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  all  the  other  boys,  and,  take  it 
altogether,  was  quite  a  hero  in  the  way  of  self-denial. 

But  one  day,  in  the  frostiest  winter  weather,  grandpa 
suggested  that  he  should  take  a  holiday.  Joe  Crandall 
was  to  be  at  home  to-morrow,  and  was  willing  to  take 
Tom's  place  for  the  day,  so  that  he  could  spend  it  wher- 
ever and  however  he  pleased. 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  delighted  with  the  prospect,  "I  will 
go  into  the  woods  with  Israel." 

It  was  a  cold  sparkling  morning.  Tom  was  obliged  to 
scratch  the  frost  from  the  pane  when  he  got  out  of  bed 
at  five  o'clock  in  order  to  get  a  peep  into  the  witching 
starlight  of  this  early  hour.  Israel  was  already  in  the 
barn  with  his  gleaming  lantern,  the  cocks  were  crowing 
like  mad,  and  Debby  was  stepping  briskly  about  the  kitch- 
en with  a  lighted  candle.  The  fire  snapped  as  if  it  had 
been  charged  with  gunpowder,  footsteps  crunched  in  the 
snow,  and  one's  breath  was  like  smoke  in  the  frosty  at- 
mosphere. 

At  half  past  five  breakfast  was  smoking  on  the  table; 
at  six  Israel  had  his  horses  harnessed,  and  away  they  start- 


MARCH  6,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


279 


ed  for  the  woods;  a  lantern,  still  burning  redly,  hung  upon 
one  of  the  stakes  in  the  sled.  The  hells  stirred  the  still  air 
with  a  merry  holiday  sound  ;  the  lights  rommeiieed  to 
vanish  from  the  village  windows ;  the  pale  sky  brightened 
to  crimson,  and  cast  rosy  reflections  on  the  snow.  Israel, 
as  usual,  when  not  singing  his  favorite  song  about  the 
"  turlail -dove."  was  deeply  relleetive.  but  Tom  was  in  the 
highest  spirits,  and  whistled  and  chattered  like  a  magpie. 
When  they  reached  the  logging  Cam p,  deep  ill  the  blue 
(.•-loom  of  the  pine  woods,  the  men  who  inhabited  it  were 
already  at  work  chopping  loirs,  and  the  merry  ring  of 
their  axes  echoed  from  the  distance.  But  they  let'l  a 
bright  fire,  which  was  composed  of  nearly  a  cord  of  wood, 
burning  on  the  large  Hat  stone  which  served  for  a  hearth, 
and  the  place  presented  a  very  cheerful  appearance 
There  was  no  chimney,  but  the  smoke  escaped  from  a 
large  hole  in  the  roof  overhead.  One  could  see  out  of 
doors  through  the  chinks  in  the  logs  which  formed  the 
walK  and  \  el  enjoy  the  pleasant  warmth.  The  bunks 
where  the  men  slept  at  night  were  tilled  with  clean,  fra- 
grant pine  boughs,  and  across  the  poles  which  projected 
from  the  foot  of  these  bunks  was  placed  the  '•deaeon  seat" 
—a  long  bench  which  faced  the  lire,  extending  from  one 

end  of  the  apartment  to  11 tber;   SO  1  hat  when  one  M-I-.-W 

weary  of  reading  and  storx  n  I  ling  and  watching  the  hla/e 
of  the  great  lire,  he  could  lip  back  into  one  of  tin  S€  soft. 

yielding  beds  without  an\  etl'ort  whatever. 

Various  cooking  utensils,  guns,  and  fishing-rods  were 
hung  on  the  wall.  A  group  of  barrel.-,  stood  in  one  cor 
lie)-.  o\er  which  \vas  a  haninn::'  shelf  piled  with  earlln-u 

dishes  and  an  array  of  bright  tinv     A  ^i-eat  hoard,  which 

would  become  a  table  at  dinner-time,  was  faslem-il  against 
the  wall. 

"  Now  don't  get  lost   in   t  hese  poky  w Is.  youngster." 

said  Isijjiel,  as  lie  thawed  his  half  fro/en  lingers  by  the 
tire.  "  Better  stay  'round  where  w  e're  a  choppin',  'n'  not 
stra  \  oil'  IM.  urea!  distance 

"  I  sha'ift  go  far  away,  because  I  want  to  be  sure  to  be 
back  in  time  to  help  John  get  dinner.  It's  jolly  fun  to 
get  dinner  in  camp.  But  I'm  not  afraid  of  getting  lost. 
\Yh\  .  I've  been  through  the  w  oods  all  alone  in  summer," 
said  Tom,  grandly. 

"Oh  yes.  you  can  go  through  by  the  road  any  time  if 
you  keer  to  walk  fur  enough  ;  but  if  you  go  roundabouts. 
you'll  find  there  ain't  no  end  to  the  w  oodv  They  reach 
clear  through  lei-  the  North  Pole,  whar  the  bears  'n' 
wolves  live,  most  likely.  I've  been  round  here  consid'a 
ble,  'n'  hev  got  some  idee  what  they  be." 

"I  guess  the  North  Pole  must  be  Mugginsville.  then," 
said  Tom,  contemptuously;  "you  can  see  the  Muggins 
ville  steeple  from  any  tree  you  chance  to  climb.'' 

"  Well,  be  careful,  box . 

"'My  Invr  >h.'  sent  me  a  turtail-ilnvo, 
'.V  ii-luui'til-Uxi,  'n'  a-tooral-loo.'" 

And  Israel  hastened  out-of-doors  to  join  the  choppers. 

There  was  nothing  that  Tom  enjoyed  so  much  as  a 
'"prowl"  in  the  winter  woods.  It  seemed  like  a  place  in 
a  fairy  tale,  dim,  mysterious,  enchanted.  The  sky  which 
peeped  in  through  the  spaces  between  the  tree-tops  seemed 
like  quite  another  sky  than  that  which  arched  over  the 
village.  Even  the  breeze  which  brushed  the  pine  twigs 
seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  magic  in  it,  and  whichever  way 
Tom  peered  through  the  long  dim  vistas  he  imagined 
that  there  were  hidden  wonderful  things.  Ill  this  bowery 
nook  the  White  Cat's  palace  might  be  lifting  its  airy  tow- 
ers. In  the  midst  of  that  tangled  thicket  the  giant's 
house  which  poor  little  Hop-o'-my-Thumb  found  might 
be  concealed.  And  who  would  wonder  to  meet  any  of 
the  fairies  and  goblins  of  the  old  stories  in  this  lovely 
glade  where  an  under-ground  brook  is  singing  ? 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  watched  the  men  as  they  fell- 
ed a  huge  tree,  and  then  wandered  away  by  himself  over 


the  firm  white  snow  crust,  which  did  not  show  the  least 
signs  of  breaking  with  his  weight.  He  skimmed  over  the 
bogs,  which  were  quite  impassable  in  summer,  but  were 
frozen  hard  now,  with  their  tall  reeds  pricking  through 
the  snow.  Then  he  discovered  fox  tracks  deeply  printed 
in  the  crust,  which  was  soft  snow  only  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, and  followed  them  eagerly  for  a  long  time,  hoping 
to  find  the  den  of  the  sly  old  fellow,  which  was  doubtless 
the  one  that  made  his  way  into  the  camp  one  day  when 
the  men  were  out,  and  helped  himself  to  a  plump  chicken 
which  was  waiting  to  be  cooked  for  dinner. 

So  intent  was  Torn  in  making  this  discovery,  that  he 
did  not  reali/e  at  all  how  far  he  was  going,  hut  followed 
on  and  on  until  finally  the  prints  of  I'oxie's  feet  came  to  a 
sudden  end  before  a  great  tract  of  brush  ground,  which 
was  so  wide  and  piled  so  high  that  the  tallest  giant  that 
ever  lived  could  never  have-  stepped  over  it. 

'  S.  ild  !"  exclaimed  Tom,  leaning  back  breathless  against 
a  big  tree:  and  then  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  il 
was  past  dinner-time,  and  he  must  retrace  bis  steps  to  the 
camp.  So  he  hurried  along  in  what  seemed  to  be  the  right 
direction,  never  thinking  to  still  heed  the  fox  tracks  which 
had  led  him  in  such  a  circuitous  way.  On  and  on  he  went 
through  bright  little  openings,  through  nooks  so  deep  and 
dark  that  it  seemed  as  if  night  had  already  fallen.  But 
there  was  no  sign  of  the  path  which  led  to  tin-  camp,  not  a 
human  foot  print  to  be  seen,  not  a  sound  to  be  heard  but 
the  strange  mutlled  din  of  the  woods,  which  is  like  silence 
speak ini:1.  I  le  climbed  a  great  stump  and  shouted  with  all 
his  might  :  but  nothing  but  the  echoes  and  a  startled  owl 
answered  him.  He  was  not  at  al  1  frightened  as  yet,  how- 
ever: the  loss  of  his  dinner  was  his  only  source  of  anxiel  \  . 

"  Well."  thought  he,  "  1  will  walk  until  I  reach  some- 
where, either  the  camp,  or  Mngginsvi  lie,  or  the  North  Pole, 
where  Israel  says  the  wolves  and  bears  live,  or  to  some 
place  en-  other  on  I  he  Mint  hern  side  of  the  woods.'' 

But  walking  didn't  seem  to  bring  him  anywhere.  The 
woods  were  just  a>  deep  anil  dark  as  ever.  He  climbed  a 
tree,  but  the  open  world  looked  miles  and  miles  away,  and 
in  the  mean  time  the  sun  grew  lower  and  lower. 

Oh.  how  cold  it  was  as  the  day  grew  later!  Tom's 
teeth  chattered,  though  he  was  walking  with  all  possible 
speed,  and  the  exercise  would  usually  have  made  his 
blood  tingle.  The  ends  of  his  lingers  pricked  as  if  there 
were  needle  points  iii  them,  and  his  feet  fairly  ached  as  he 
t  nidged  along. 

It  was  midnight  darkness  in  the  deep  woods,  but  in  a 
little  opening,  where  there  were  low  juniper  bushes,  the 
yellow  sunset  light  was  still  lingering.  Some  glossy 
sprays  of  wintergreen  were  pricking  through  the  snow 
crust,  and  thinking  that  their  bitter-sweet  leaves  might 
appease  the  gnawing  at  his  stomach,  Tom  ate  some,  and 
finding  that  they  did  so  in  a  great  degree,  he  was  looking 
about  him  for  more,  when  he  espied  some  strange  black 
object  which  had  lodged  between  two  boughs  of  a  juniper 
bush. 

He  reached  down  and  picked  up  the  plumpest  leather 
pocket-book  which  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life!  It  had 
evidently  been  there  for  days,  for  it  was  frozen  stiff,  and 
had  some  time  been  soaked  with  rain  or  dew.  Tom  open- 
ed it  with  eager  fingers.  It  was  crammed  with  bank- 
notes, and  one  large  shining  gold  piece  was  tucked  care- 
fully in  the  midst  of  the  paper.  But  it  was  growing  so 
dark  that  he  did  not  stop  to  count  the  money,  for  if  night 
should  overtake  him  while  still  in  the  woods,  he  would 
never  be  able  to  find  his  way  out  of  them. 

The  growth  was  becoming  less  and  less  dense.  There 
were  little  openings  everywhere,  and  finally,  when  the 
stars  were  gathering  in  the  pale  twilight  sky,  he  emerged 
into  an  open  space  where  there  was  an  old  ruined  mill, 
its  broken  roof  white  with  snow,  its  eaves  fantastically 
fringed  with  icicles.  Beyond  this  he  found  a  narrow  bit 
of  road  with  faint  sled  and  foot  tracks,  and  not  far  along 


280 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


on  the  road  the  most  blessed  sight  that  ever  dawned  upon 
his  vision— a  thick  column  of  smoke  arising-  from  a  cot- 
tage chimney. 

Tom  felt  more  exhausted  than  ever  at  this  point,  but 
making  a  brave  struggle,  he  pressed  on  with  what  little 
strength  he  could  summon  to  his  aid.  An  old  man,  with 
a  great  pile  of  juniper  twigs,  pine  boughs,  and  other  green- 
ery on  his  back,  came  from  the  woods,  and  down  a  path  to 
the  road,  and  with  his  white  beard  blowing  in  the  wind, 
looked  like  the  genius  of  Christmas.  He  was  gazing  in- 


"TOM    OPENED    IT    WITH    EAGER    FINGERS." 

tently  under  every  bush  and  twig  as  he  came  along,  push- 
ing the  branches  of  the  tiny  evergreens  back  with  his  feet. 

"Have  you  lost  anything  .'"  inquired  Tom,  at  the  same 
time  keeping  the  pocket-book  prudently  concealed  under 
his  jacket. 

"I  should  think  so.  Three  weeks  ago  to-day  I  lost  a 
pocket-book  with  a  thousand  dollars  in  it  somewhar  about 
these  pesky  woods,  or  on  the  road  leadin'  to  it,  V  I'm 
lookiii'  fur  it  yit.  I  didn't  dare  to  leave  it  in  the  house 
while  I  was  out  gittin'  my  medicine  stuff  fur  fear  o'  thieves, 
'n'  I  kep'  puttin'  off  carry  in'  of  it  to  the  bank  till  'twas  clean 
gone.  Sav,  sonny,  you  hain't  seen  anythin'  of  it,  hev 
ye  ?  'Twas  a  black  leather  pocket-book,  fastened  with  a, 
rusty  steel  clasp,  'n'  tied  up  with  a  twine  string  too. 
There  was  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  in  it  'moiig  the  rest. 
But  Lor'  sakes  alive,  boy  !  be  ye  sick  or  froze  ter  death  '. 
Yer  face  is  as  white  as  snow  all  on  a  suddiut." 

Tom  produced  the  pocket-book,  but  no  sooner  had  he 
placed  it  in  the  old  man's  hand  than  he  fell,  a  white  heap, 
on  the  ground  at  his  feet. 

When  he  recovered  his  senses  once  more  he  found  him- 
self lying  on  a  lounge  in  a  rough,  dingy  apartment,  light- 
ed by  a  single  candle,  and  with  a  great  boiler  steaming 
and  bubbling  over  a  roaring  fire.  The  atmosphere  was 
filled  with  the  spicy  odor  of  pine  and  other  woodland 


growths,  and  a  great  black  cat  was  eying  him  intently 
from  her  post  beside  the  stove. 

"  Where  am  I  '."  lie  inquired,  lifting  his  head,  and  look- 
ing about  him  in  amazement. 

••  ( >h,  you're  all  right,  'n'  in  my  house,  sonny.     You're 
with  afriend.     Don't  you  remember  you  found  my  pocket- 
book,  V  I  met  you  down  in  the  road  by  the  woods  ?     I 
guess  you  got  pritty  well  used  up  with  the  cold  or  suthiii, 
'n'  fainted  away,"  said  the  old  man,  appearing  at  his  side 
with  a  tumbler  in   his  hand.      "  Hi  iv,  now,  you  take  a 
good  dose  of  my  'Healer.'     It's  the  best  medicine  in 
the  market,  'n'  if  you  drink  it  down  now  while-it's  hot- 
it  will  keep  you  frum  gittin'  cold,  'n'  git  your  stomach 
in  order  to  take  some  food.      I  reckon  you  feel  kinder 
hungry." 

Tom  hardly  knew  whether  he  was  hungry  or  not. 
He  felt  rather  comfortable  than  otherwise,  only  that 
his  toes  and  fingers,  his  nose  and  cheeks,  were  com- 
mencing to  smart  and  burn  like  fire.  He  swallowed 
the  medicine  as  directed,  though  with  rather  a  wry  face, 
and  then  the  old  man  brought  him  a  bowl  of  thin  but 
savory  broth,  which  he  ate  with  quite  a  relish. 

"Now  I'd  go  right  ter  sleep,  'n'  git  kinder  rested,  'n' 
then  we  will  talk  about  matters  V  things  a  leetle  when 
you  wake  up  agin." 

"  But  the  folks  at  home  will  be  so  worried  about  me. 
Grandpa  'n'  grandma  will  be  scared  almost  to  death, 
n'  then  they'll  blame  Israel  coz  I  got  lost.  Is  this 
Mugginsville,  or  where  is  it  ?" 

"  Lor',  no,  'tis  a  leetle  corner  o'  Tatnick.  Do  you 
live  over  ter  Mugginsville  ?  I  thought  I  never  seen 
you  in  these  parts  afore." 

"No,"  said  Tom,  "I  live  over  at  Sprigtown,  or  at 
least  grandpa  does.  I'm  spending  the  wilder  at  his 
farm.  He's  Mr.  Samuel  Swift.  Do  you  know  him  :" 
"Bless  you,  Sprigtown's  as  much  as  ten  miles  off 
round  by  the  road.  Yes,  I  know  Squire  Swift  by  sight, 
'n'  it's  likely  he  knows  me.  They  call  me  ole  Hermit 
Sawyer.  I  s'pose  you've  heard  tell  of  me.  The  boys 
all  round  the  diggin's  thinks  it  fine  fun  to  make  game 
of  me,  'n'  yell  out  after  me,  '  Hello !  ole  medicine-biler.' 
Now,  sonny,  I  want  ter  know  why  you  was  so  anxious 
to  git  rid  o'  that  pocket-book  'n'  all  thar  was  into  it. 
Every  dollar's  there,  coz  I  counted  it.  Didn't  you  hev 
no  use  fur  it?  Your  grandpa's  lost  'most  all  his  pro- 
perty, I  know." 

"  What!"  said  Tom,  indignantly;  "would  you  kr<'|i 
anything  that  didn't  belong  to  you,  if  you  wanted  it 
ever  so  much  ?  Of  course  I  knew  it  was  yours  when  you 
described  it  to  me  so  well,  and  of  course  I  gave  it  to  you. 
What  else  could  I  do?  But  I  really  must  go  home,  no 
matter  how  far  it  is.  They'll  be  out  searching  for  me, 
you  know." 

"Why,  boy,  it's  the  coldest  night  that  ever  was — cold 
(Tiiuit1  ter  krinkle  the  hair  ov  an  Injun.  'Twould  be  your 
death  to  go  out  now  ;  but  I'll  harness  up  my  ole  nag.  'n' 
ef  I  ken't  git  a  neighbor  that  I  hev  in  rny  mind  ter  drive 
over  ter  Sprigtown,  I'll  go  myself.  I'm  old  'n'  tough  as 
sole-leather." 

The  neighbor  drove  over,  and  Tom  and  the  old  man 
had  a,  very  jolly  and  confidential  time  together  that  night, 
while  the  "Healer"  bubbled  over  the  fire  and  scented  the 
room,  and  the  black  cat  purred,  and  the  candle  Wared  and 
sputtered. 

In  the  morning  Israel  came  over  in  a  pung,  with  a 
plenty  of  warm  fur  wraps,  to  take  Tom  home.  The  old 
hermit  was  very  unwilling  to  let  him  go;  but  Tom  prom- 
ised to  make  him  a  week's  visit  soon  if  his  grandfatlnT 
would  consent,  and  that  softened  the  parting  considerably. 
"When  Tom  got  into  the  pung  the  old  man,  who  had 
followed  him  out-of-doors,  slipped  something  into  his  hand, 
which  upon  investigation  proved  to  be  two  fifty-dollar 
bank-notes. 


MARCH  6,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


L'S  1 


"  You  see,  I'm  pritty  well  off,  sonny ;  I  sell  the  '  Healer' 
to  the  druggists  everywhere.  There's  a  great  rage  fur  it, 
'n'  it  brin  u-s  me  in  money.  Let  the  lame  brother  hrv  the 
lessons,  'n'  p'r'aps  tln-rc'Il  be  a  little  spendin1  bit  fur  you 
too.  I  never  did  take  ter  hoys,  hut  I  guess  I  know  when  I 
see  one  ov  the  right  sort,  ef  I  be  a  miserable  ole  hermit.'' 


A    NFAV    ACQUAINTANCE. 
J^or  tfte  bcin  Uittlc  13co)jlc. 

SUCH  a  white  world  as  Baby  Ben  sa\v  when  he  opened 
his  eyes  this  morning!  Snow  on  the  root's,  i hi-  fences, 
the  Held-;,  and  the  trees,  and  not  a  creature  stirring  any- 
v.  here.  Kven  the  old  rooster,  and  t  lie  l'uss\  little  red  hen. 
and  the  dainty  white  one.  and  all  the  feathery  tribe  wen- 
out  of  sight.  l'.ab\  lien.  at.  the  window,  had  drummc'd 
niion  tin-  pane,  and  thought  what  could  possibly  ha\e  be 
come  of  his  pets. 

Then,  with  a  whoop  ;md  a  halloo,  brother  Artie  had  ap- 
peared willi  his  sled  and  his  mittens.  But  Ben  did  not 
care  for  Artie.  He  clapped  his  little  fat  hands  for  the  old 


rooster  to  come  out,  and  then,  while  he  waited,  he  saw 
something  ever  so  much  prettier. 

Such  a  darling,  trim,  pert,  little  brown  birdie,  hopping 
around  over  the  snow,  and  saying,  "  Chirp,  chirp,  peep, 
peep — hurry,  somebody,  and  bring  me  my  breakfast." 

The  Baby  had  had  his  own  breakfast  of  bread  and  milk 
from  a  china  basin  with  a  silver  spoon.  So  he  wasn't. 
hungry.  Birdie  was.  Sister  Maggie  said,  "  Bennie,  will 
you  feed  i he  little  dear  .'"  And  you  may  be  sure  what  Ben- 
nie's  answer  was.  So  in  a  moment  Maggie  filled  her  pock- 
et with  seeds  and  crumbs,  and  then,  stepping  out  on  the 
porch,  she  lifted  her  little  brother  in  her  arms,  and  in  his 
prett  \  way  he  called  the  bird.  Dropping  the  seeds  from 
his  dimpled  lingers,  he  looked  with  great  brown  eyes  full 
of  love  to  See  the  little  stranger  eat. 

Make  haste,  birdie;  Maggie's  arms  are  tired.  Which  of 
the  new  acquaintances  is  the  shyer,  I  wonder? 

This  is  March  snow,  and  it  will  soon  melt.  Instead  of 
one  brave  bird  standing  out-doors  and  waiting  for  food, 
we  shall  soon  have  hundreds  singing  for  joy  among  green 
leaves.  But  the  summer  long  will  not  bring  us  a  prettier 
picture  than  this. 


*r     '         ""'":JI> 


'•••.'  J, 

&K>i.  V  >U  A-.  ..I,;'     I'  • 


"MAKE    HASTE,  BIRDIE;    MAGGIE'S    ARMS    ARE    TIRED." 


282 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OFF  THE  LINE. 

P,  Y    JOSEPHINE    POLLARD. 

THE  boys  stood  up  in  the  reading  class— 

A  dozen  or  so — and  each  one  said 
That  those  at  the  foot  should  never  pass, 

Or  find  it  easy  to  get  up  head. 

Harry  was  studious  ;  so  were  Jake, 
Jim,  and  Robert,  and  Tom,  and  Jack  ; 

For  men  of  business  they  meant  to  make. 
And  it  wouldn't  do  to  be  dull  or  slack. 

There  wasn't  another  boy  on  the  line 
More  anxious  than  Jimmy  to  keep  his  place  ; 

For  to  be  at  the  head  was  very  fine, 

But  to  go  down  foot  was  a  sad  disgrace. 

But  Jim  delighted  in  games  of  ball, 

Polo,  tennis,  or  tame  croquet, 
And  his  mind  was  not  on  his  books  at  all 

When  lie  took  his  place  in  the  class  that  day. 

'Twas  his  turn  to  read,  and  he  started  off 
With  an  air  attentive — a  vain  pretense; 

For  the  boys  around  him  began  to  cough 
And  nudge  and  chuckle  at  Jim's  expense. 

"You've  skipped  a  line."  whispered  generous  Ben, 
Who  often  had  helped  in  this  way  before. 

"  YOU'VE  SKIPPED  A  LINE!"  shouted  Jim;  and  then. 
Of  course,  the  school-room  was  in  a  roar. 

As  down  to  the  foot  Jim  went  that  day 

He  learned  a  lesson  that  any  dunce 
Might  have  known ;  for  we're  sure  to  stray 

If  we  try  to  be  in  two  places  at  once. 

Sport,  when  you  sport,  in  an  earnest  way, 
With  a  merry  heart  and  a  cheerful  face; 

But  when  at  your  books  think  not  of  your  play, 
Or  else  you'll  certainly  lose  your  place. 


NAN  .* 


BY   MRS.  LUCY  C.  LILLIE, 
AUTHOR  op  "MILDREI/S  BARGAIN,"  "AUNT  RUTH'S  TEMPTATION,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

1CAN  hardly  describe  Nan's  state  of  mind  as  Christ- 
inas drew  near.  Bromfield  began  early  to  show  signs 
of  the  approaching  festivity ;  and  as  Nan  walked  about 
the  snowy  streets — often  just  for  the  sake  of  turning  her 
mind  from  sad  thoughts  —  the  gayety  of  the  shop  win- 
dows, the  blithe  air  of  the  passers-by,  all  jarred  upon  her 
painfully. 

Mrs.  Rupert  had  begun  to  treat  her  niece  very  coldly. 
More  and  more  was  she  certain  that  Nan's  "  folks"  at  Bev- 
erley  meant  gradually  to  cast  her  off,  so  she  insisted  on 
Nan's  making  herself  useful  in  every  way;  and  the  child 
rose  early  and  worked  late  in  order  to  accomplish  all  that 
was  required  of  her.  But  occupation,  she  knew,  was  bet- 
ter than  sitting  idle  with  her  thoughts;  only  sometimes 
Nan's  head  ached  painfully  over  her  sums,  and  often  kind- 
hearted  Mrs.  Leigh  had  to  excuse  her  from  her  lessons 
entirely. 

The  Ruperts  began  to  feel  the  effect  of  Nan's  efforts 
at  tidiness  in  the  house.  She  had  rummaged  out  some 
old  muslin  curtains,  but  when  washed  and  starched  they 
looked  very  well;  and  by  dint  of  close  saving  she  had 
contrived  to  have  the  furniture  mended,  a  new  cover  put 
on  the  mantel-board,  and  chintz  slips  on  the  easy-chairs. 


*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Mrs.  Rupert  was  willing  enough  to  accept  Nan's  labors  so 
long  as  they  did  not  interfere  with  what  she  wished  her  to 
do;  and  Marian  seemed  better  pleased  to  bring  her  young 
friends  home  with  her,  now  that  the  sitting-room  had  an 
air  of  cleanliness  and  something  like  comfort. 

It  was  the  20th  of  December;  Nan  was  sitting  in  the 
parlor  late  in  the  afternoon,  with  Georgie  and  Mary 
beside  her,  and  a  big  pile  of  stockings  waiting  to  be  darned 
in  Hie  basket  at  her  side.  She  was  trying  to  work,  but 
somehow  her  thoughts  kept  wandering  away  to  Beverley. 
She  could  just  imagine  how  delightfully  they  were  pre- 
paring for  Christmas.  There  would  be  genuine  "fun" 
at  College  Street,  and  she  felt  sure  that  Aunt  Letty  would 
provide  presents  for  Love  and  Mrs.  Travers  and  little 
David.  At  the  thought  of  these  Nan  fairly  broke  down, 
and  her  tears  were  falling  oil  the  stockings,  when  Georgie 
cried  out, 

"Hi!  there's  a  hack  before  the  door!  Who's  that, 
Nan  ?" 

Nan  hastily  dried  her  eyes  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 
It  u-as  a  hack.  Could  it  be  Mrs.  Heriot  who  descended  < 
Nan's  very  heart  stood  still.  She  sprang  up,  holding  her 
work  in  her  hands  as  in  a  vise.  Mary  and  Georgie  lied 
away  down-stairs  to  know  who  the  visitor  was,  and  so 
Nan  was  left  alone  in  the  little  parlor. 

Five  minutes  seemed  to  pass  before  the  door  opened, 
and  then  Mrs.  Heriot  came  hurrying  in,  and  in  a  second 
Nan  was  clasped  in  her  motherly  arms. 

"  Oh,  my  child!  my  dearie!''  the  good  woman  exclaim- 
ed. "Whatever  was  wrong  is  right  now!  and  they  can't 
wait  to  get  you  home  again  quick  enough.  Come,  haste! 
get  your  little  hat  on,  and  come." 

But  Nan  had,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  ('Minted  dead 
away.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  it  was  to  see  Mrs.  Ru- 
pert and  Mrs.  Heriot  bending  over  her  with  a,  collection  of 
restoratives  that  smelled  horribly.  But  the  first  thing'  she 
did  was  to  smile  from  sheer  happiness. 

"  I  think,  mem,  if  you  please,"  Mrs.  Heriot  was  saying, 
in  iciest  tones,  to  Mrs.  Rupert,  "we'll  get  her  down  to  the 
hotel,  where  her  cousin,  Miss  Phyllis  Rolf,  is  waiting  for 
her." 

Mrs.  Rupert  was  very  much  impressed,  particularly  by 
the  box  of  Christmas  presents  Mrs.  Heriot  had  brought 
witli  her  for  the  entire  household ;  and  she  helped  forward 
Nan's  departure,  saying  nothing  more  unpleasant  than: 
"Well.  I  hope  they'll  either  keep  her  or  leave  her.  once 
and  for  all,  this  time." 

But  Nan  was  too  dreamily  happy  to  care  for  anything 
Mrs.  Rupert  could  do  or  say  now.  Once  more  she  drove 
down  the  streets  of  Bromfield  on  her  way  to  Beverlev. 
Everything  seemed  confused;  but  it  was  clear  enough  that 
they  stopped  at  the  big  country  hotel  011  Main  Street,  and 
went  upstairs  and  into  a  cheerful  room,  where  Phyllis 
stood  waiting. 

How  differently  her  cousin  met  her  this  time  from  the 
first!  Then  Phyllis  had  been  all  condescension  and  su- 
periority; but  now  she  opened  her  arms,  clasped  Nan  in 
them,  and  murmured,  lovingly, 

"Oh,  my  dear  child,  you  must  forgive  us — we  under- 
stand it  all,  and  never  again  shall  you  go  away." 

This  one  half-hour  would  have  seemed  joy  enough  to 
Nan;  but  it  was  delightful  to  have  a  cozy  tea  with  Phyl- 
lis, and  then,  before  they  went  to  bed,  to  hear  how  Aunt 
Lelty  was  ardently  expecting  her  "home  again." 

Phyllis  did  not  ask  Nan  why  she  had  not  spoken  of 
Laura's  deceit.  She  knew  well  what  had  governed  the 
humbler  cousin;  and  Nan  was  content  to  know  the  merest 
outlines  of  what  Laura  had  done.  It  was,  indeed,  enough 
that  all  was  explained,  and  that  they  wanted  her  home 
again  at  Beverley. 

Meanwhile,  at  Rolf  House,  Aunt  Letty  was  in  a  state 
of  genuine  excitement.  Her  darling  was  coming  bark, 
and  great  had  been  the  preparations  for  her  return.  To 


MARCH  6.  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOTXG  PEOPLE. 


283 


Laura  Miss  Rolf  had  said  very  little,  for  tin-  girl's  remorse 
and  penitence  were  entirely  sincere.  Sin-  he^-ired  SO  hiun- 
hh  in  In'  allowed  to  hi'lp  prepare  for  Nan's  return  that 
Miss  Rolf  had  kc]>t  her  \vitli  her.  and  her  dear  Love  Blake 
was  there  too.  to  whom  Laura  seemed  to  cling  as  tu  some- 
thing or  sunn-body  who  suggested  Nan. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  dusting  and  moving  about  of 
furniture  in  a  large  sunny  room  near  Nan's  school-room, 
and  which  had  always  1 n  closed  except  l"i-  certain  eld- 
erly visitors.  Indeed.  Nan  had  rarely  seen  it.  Kvt  i". 
thing  was  what  slie  called  "stnll'y"  in  it:  but  bad  sin- 
looked  in  on  the  work  ",-oing  on  there  during  these  <la.\s 
sbe  \\oiilil  have  changed  her  mind. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

TlIK  next  few  days  passed  like  some  happy  dream  in 
Nan's  life.  All  the  joyOUSneSS  and  tend'-mess  of  the 
Christmas  season  51  emi  1 1  in  the  very  air  she  breathed,  and 
hours  of  every  day  were  devoted  to  preparations  for  the 
great  festival.  Miss  Ilolf  bad  determined  to  make  this  an 
important  occasion.  She  issued  invitations  for  a  large 
party  ill  Nan's  honor;  and  she  intended  to  impress  upon 

every  one  the  fact  that  her  niece  u  as  henceforth  lob. i 

sidered  her  adopted  daughter     t  lie  \  <:mi'_r  mistres>  of  l;..|f 

House.    Nan  went  a  1  unit  with  a  happy  light  shining  in  her 

eyes,  but  her  aunt.  \\  ho  \\atched  her  critical  I  \  .  could  not 
see  that  the  sudden  chaULr''  in  her  circumstance-  had  not 
made  her  ovcrexultant.  She  sei  med  cln.lly  delighted  b\ 
the  fact  of  a.Lrain  being  "at  home"  near  lo  the  Rolfs,  lirst 
and  last;  able  again  to  plan  for  Mrs.  Travers  and  I>a\nl. 
In  have  chats  with  Lo\e  I'.lake.  and  to  know  that  the  ap- 
proaching Christmas  would  bring  a  "good  time"  for  her 
friends,  both  rich  and  bumble. 

Her  new  room  was  a  source  of  the  ureatc-t  delight  t,i 
her.  and  she  never  tired  of  sitting  ill  the  pretty  easj 
chairs,  reading  the  books,  or  admiring  and  using  Ihe  con 
tents  of  her  desk  and  WOl'k-tahle.  And  in  these  da\  -  it 
came  about  t  hat  Laura  s)i"nt  most  of  her  time  on  the  la  rev 
chint/  .  co\  ered  lounge  drawn  nji  at  one  side  of  the  \\ood 
lire,  for  Laura's  malady  was  increasing  so  fa-l  lhat  they 
all  feared  it  must  settle  into  a  liope|e-s  spinal  complaint. 
There  was  nothing  dangerous  in  it.  bin  it  might  be  that 
for  some  time  she  would  be  a  prisoner,  and  Aunt  Letty, 
Phyllis,  and  Nan  all  decided  that  it  was  best  lo  sa  \  \er.\ 
little-  of  her  wrong  doing  to  her. 

In  the  lone-  quiet  hours  of  her  siitl'ering  and  weakness 
she  was  learning  more  than  she  could  have  done  in  \cars 
of  heal  I  h  and  vigor,  and  more  than  any  one  but  Nan  could 
have  believed  possible  was  she  siiH'ering  from  honest 
shame  and  penitence.  Nan  and  .loan  would  bring  their 
Christmas  \\ork  to  this  bright  lii-esiile.  while  Laura  la.\ 
still,  enjoying  their  gay  talk,  and  for  the  lirst  time  learn 
ing  to  understand  the  sweetness  and  generosity  of  Nan's 
nature.  The  younger  girls  asked  her  opinion  about  every- 
thing except  some  very  privately  executed  article-  which 
were  intended  as  surprises  for  Laura's  own  Christmas. 

"I  suppose.'1  said  Mrs.  Heriot,  on  the  morning  of  the 
23d — "I  suppose  we'll  have  to  prepare  for  a  hundred  peo- 
ple at  least.  Dear!  dear!  it's  a  long  time  since  we've  had 
such  doings.  And  just  think:  first  the  Christmas  tree, 
and  then  the  party,  and  then  dinner  the  next  day.  and 
— well,  I  don't  know  hoic  we  are  to  get  through  it  all." 

Nan  laughed  gayly.  She  and  Joan  were  in  the  store- 
room tying  up  greens,  while  Mrs.  Heriot  was  making  out 
a  list  to  be  sent  to  the  grocer's  and  confectioner's. 

"I  know."  said  Nan,  "we'll  get  through  with  it  per- 
fectly beautifully.  We'll  all  be  so  happy — and  I  hope." 
she  added,  half  sighing,  "we'll  all  see  fifty  more  such 
Christmases. " 

"Just  hear  the  child!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Heriot.  "Oh, 
I  quite  forgot,  my  dear:  Miss  Rolf  wants  you  for  a  mo- 
ment upstairs." 

Nail  darted  up  willingly  enough,  and  found  Miss  Rolf 


in    her  own   room,  looking   very  pleased,  and  with    the 
kindly  smile  Nan  loved  to  see  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  lips. 

"See  here.  Nannie."  she  said.  drav.  ing  her  niece  to- 
ward her,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  something.  It  was  I 
who  had  your  cousin  Philip  sent  to  school." 

"Oh  :"  gasped  Nan— and  then  she  gave  Miss  Rolf  rath- 
er an  alarming  sipiee/e  "  oil.  Aunt  Letty .'" 

"I  had  it  done  through  Mr.  Field,  so  that  he  might 
not.  later  iu  life,  feel  under  any  special  obligation  to  us. 
And  now  [  \\ant  to  speak  of  your  cousin  Marian.  Of 
course  they  are  not  really  any  kin  to  you  ;  but.  after  all. 
lh'  \  gave  >""  as  much  as  they  could  when  you  \\ere 
homeless,  and  1  should  like  to  do  well  by  them." 

A  strange  little  \\oiidering  look  had  corne  into  Nan's 
face.  'Aunt  Letty,"  she  said,  suddenly,  "will  yon  tell 
me  one  thing  truly  .'  Whal  had  papa  done  that  his  grand- 
father should  have  cast  him  oil'  :" 

Miss  Poll'  looked  pained.  "My  dear."  she  said,  slow- 
ly, "he  did  not  act  openly  with  my  father;  he  had  debts 
which  he  tried  to  hide;  lie  uas  never  <mile  frank  about 
an\  thing;  and  so  at  last  it  came  to  an  open  quarrel. 
Nan  dear,  you  see  that  was  what  frightened  me  when  I 
though!  you  understand,  my  darling"— the  old  lady 
clasped  Nan  closely  to  her  side — "I  thought  I  could  not 
live  over  again  seems  such  as  we  used  to  have  with  him, 
hriglil.  lovable  bo\  lhat  lie  was.  and  that  before  I  learned 
to  love  you  too  dearly  1  would  send  \ou  awav.'' 

Nan  was  very  silent  fora  moment.  Her  father  \\  as  a 
dim  memory  to  her.  yet  she  could  vaguely  recall  scenes 
.•.  bid)  she  now  understood  belter;  limes  when  debt,  seem- 
ed to  be  her  mother's  horror,  and  when  her  father,  reck- 
lessly extravagant,  would  leave  them  alone  and  ol'lcn 
hungry. 

"  //  Kim//  never  l><:  Aunt  /.'•////."  Nan  said,  lirmly. 
And  Miss  Poll'  understood  her,  and  believed  her  child  with 
all  her  heart. 

'And  about  Marian. "said  Aunt  Letty.  "  I  thought  of 

suggesting  that  if  she  liked  to  go  for  tin years  to  a .  g I 

school  1  \\oiild  pay  the  expenses--  1  mean  nil  her  expenses. 
What  do  you  think  .-" 

Nan's  whole  face  brightened.  "Oh,  Aunt  Letty!"  she 
exclaimed,  "how  like  you!  Then  we  could  see  for  our- 
selves.just  what  a  fair  chance  would  do  for  her." 

"  And  what  do  you  say,"  continued  Miss  Rolf,  smiling, 
"to  asking  her  here  for  Christmas?  I  can  make  up  my 
mind  better  then." 

"That  would  be — kind,  I  suppose,"  said  Nan,  a  little 
doubt  fully  ;  but  in  a  moment  she  was  ash  a  med  of  her  own 
hesitation,  and  gave  a  heartier  assent. 

"Do  you  know,  aunt,"  she  said,  "that  nice,  quiet  Mrs. 
Leigh  who  taught  me  at  Bromtield  wants  to  open  a  school 
in  Exeter,  and  Mrs.  Orange  and  some  other  people  are  get- 
ting pupils  for  her.  Now  she  knows  Marian  so  well — 
\\liy  wouldn't  that  be  a  good  beginning:' 

"  Very  good,"  said  Miss  Rolf,  after  a  moment's  thought. 
"  I  might  write  to  Mrs.  Leigh  about  it.  Now,  run  away, 
my  darling.  I  hope  you  and  Joan  are  not  working  your 
fingers  actually  to  the  bone." 

Nan  laughed,  and  darted  off  to  tell  Joan  the  last  piece 
of  news.  And  before  the  next  morning-  an  answer  had 
come,  accepting  Miss  Rolf's  invitation  for  Marian. 

Nail  could  imagine  the  satisfaction  with  which  Marian 
told  her  companions  of  her  great  good  luck,  but  she  hoped 
she  would  be  moderate  in  her  display  of  bugles  and  ban- 
gles at  the  Christmas  party. 

But  Miss  Rolf's  thoughtfulness  had  gone  further  even 
than  Nan's.  Marian  was  expected  about  two  o'clock  on 
Christmas-eve,  and  in  the  morning  two  boxes  arrived  from 
Ames's,  the  contents  of  which  only  Nan  and  Miss  Rolf 
knew.  One  of  these  contained  a  pretty  ready-made  dark 
silk,  which  would,  Nan  thought,  fit  tolerably  well,  and 
might  in  any  case  be  altered;  and  the  other  a  perfectly 
simple  pale  blue  cashmere,  so  lady-like  and  elegant,  how- 


284: 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NAN    FAINTS    IN    MRS.  HEEIOT'S    ARMS. 

ever,  that  Nan  felt  Marian  would  appear  another  being 
when  dressed  in  it.  These  articles  were  hung  up  in  the 
wardrobe  of  the  little  room  near  Nan's,  which  had  been 
prepared  for  Marian's  reception. 

[TO   BE    CIINTINIKII.] 


MR.  THOMPSON  AND  THE  RATS. 

BY  ALLAN  FORMAX. 

MR.  THOMPSON  sat  at  his  desk  writing.  It  was  late, 
and  he  was  very  sleepy. 

Scratch,  scratch;  gnaw,  gnaw,  gnaw;  squeak,  squeak, 
came  from  behind  the  wainscot.  Mr.  Thompson  threw 
down  his  pen  in  disgust. 

"Bother  those  rats!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  believe  the 
house  i;j  full  of  'em.  Either  they  or  I  will  have  to  find 
another  boarding-house. " 

Scamper,  scamper  went  the  rats;  rattle,  rattle  went  the 
plaster  between  the  walls. 

"There  they  go  again!"  complained  Mr.  Thompson. 
"I  don't  see  why  they  can't  keep  still.  And  then  that 
eternal  gnawing !  I  should  think  that  they  would  wear 
their  teeth  out." 

"That's  just  what  we  do  it  for,"  replied  a  squeaky  voice 
on  the  floor. 

Mr.  Thompson  looked  down,  and  there  sat  a  large  brown 
rat  eying  him  composedly. 


"  That's  what  we  do  it  for,"  repeated  the 
rat.  "  If  we  didn't,  our  teeth  would  grow 
so  long  that  we  could  not  eat.  You  see, 
our  teeth  keep  growing  all  the  time,  and 
if  we  don't  gnaw  something  hard,  so  as 
to  wear  them  off,  they  would  soon  get  so 
long  that  we  could  not  close  our  mouths. 
Cases  have  been  known  where  when  one 
tooth  has  been  broken  off,  and  the  tooth 
opposite,  having  nothing  to  gnaw  against, 
has  grown,  if  a  lower  tooth,  up  into  the 
skull ;  if  an  upper  tooth,  it  has  been  pressed 
nutward  until  it  has  made  a  complete  ring." 
"You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Mr. 
Thompson. 

"Yes.  I  could  show  you  a  good  many 
curious  things  if  you  would  come  with 
me,"  continued  the  rat.  "Will  you,  now?" 
"Yes,  I'll  go,"  said  Mr.  Thompson. 
No  sooner  had  he  given  assent  than  he 
hi -gau  to  grow  smaller,  and  at  last,  as  he 
jumped  from  his  chair,  he  found — not  to 
his  surprise,  for  he  was  getting  used  to  these 
changes,  but  somewhat  to  his  amusement 
— that  he  was  neither  more  nor  less  than 
a  big  brown  rat  with  stilt'  whiskers  and  a 
long  tapering  tail. 

He  said  nothing,  but  trotted  contentedly 
after  his  guide  under  the  wash-stand,  and 
diving  through  a  hole  in  the  corner,  he 
found  himself  between  the  floor  and  the 
ceiling  of  the  room  below. 

"Run  along  on  this  beam,"  said  the  rat ; 
"you'll  find  the  walking  better.  We  al- 
ways use  it.  You  notice  it  has  got  to  be 
quite  black  and  smooth  from  constant  use." 
They  ran  along  the  beams  and  down  be- 
tween the  side  walls  until  they  came  to  the 
basement,  which  Mr.  Thompson  and  his 
guide  entered  through  a  hole  behind  the 
flour  barrel  in  the  store  closet. 

Here  the  rats  were  holding  high  carni- 
val, running  from  one  to  another,  squeak- 
ing, jumping'  on   the    kitchen   table,  and 
fighting   for  scraps  which   the  cook  had 
left.      Mr.  Thompson  and  his  friend  joined  the  throijg. 

"  Allow  me  to  present  you  to  my  wife,  Mrs.  Rodentia," 
said  the  latter. 

Mr.  Thompson  bowed  to  a  graceful-looking  brown  rat 
somewhat  smaller  than  his  companion.  Mrs.  Rodentia 
was  accompanied  by  her  daughter,  a  young  rat  scarcely 
hii'Lici-  than  a  mouse. 

"  There  seems  to  be  quite  a  jubilee  going  on,"  said  Mr. 
Thompson,  searching  for  a  subject  for  conversation. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Rodentia.  "  Tom,  the  cat,  has  been 
shut  up  in  a  room  upstairs,  so  we  have  the  basement  all 
to  ourselves."  She  was  walking  along  slowly  as  she 
spoke,  and  Mr.  Thompson  was  following  her,  considerably 
embarrassed  by  her  long  tail,  which  she  switched  coquet- 
tishly  from  side  to  side  as  she  walked.  At  last  Mr.  Thomp- 
son stepped  squarely  on  the  tail. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Don't  mention  it,"  answered  Mrs.  Rodentia.     "Clum- 
sy fellow!"  she  whispered  to  her  daughter,  with  a  con- 
temptuous glance  toward  poor  Mr.  Thompson. 

"What  a  polished  lady  of  society  she  would  make  if 
dressed  in  silk  instead  of  fur!"  thought  Mr.  Thompson, 
recollecting  similar  occurrences  in  his  every-day  life.  Mr. 
Thompson  felt  uncomfortable  for  a  few  minutes.  Then 
his  attention  was  diverted. 

"What  are  those  fellows  doing?"  he  inquired,  point- 
ing toward  three  or  four  ruffianly  looking  rats  who  were 
swaggering  toward  the  store-room. 


MARCH  6,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


285 


"MR.   THOMPSON    STEPPED    S(;[  . \REI.Y    ON    THE   TAIL.'' 

"Those  are  pie-rate,"  replied  Mr.  Rodentia.  "Wait 
fur  ;i  iiioi lie/lit,  and  \  mi  \\  i  11  sec  why  we  call  them  SO." 

"  It  is,  it  i<  ;i  'jli'i  ion  -  ihiii£ 
To  bo  a  pie-rat  kini:.  to  !"•  a  pii'-mi   Kini:," 

sang  the  leader,  and  his  followers  kept  time  to  the  march. 

Mr.  Thompson  watched  them.  Before  long  thc\  came 
out  of  1 1 ic  closet,  the  leader  with  his  hand  upon  his  s  \\ord. 
issuing  his  orders  in  nautical  phrases,  and  his  crew  rolling 
a  large  mince  pie  along  on  its  cd^e. 

"There!  you  see  why  they  arc  called  pie-rats, "  said  Mr. 
Eodentia.  "They  get  lots  of  pics  and  cakes.  Don't  you 
ever  remember  having  heard  the  landlady  say,  'Bridget, 
where  is  that  oilier  pie?'  and  Bridget  answered,  '  Shure 
the  rats  ate  it.  mum— bad  luck  to  thim' 

Mr.  Thompson  remem- 
bered, but  he  had  always 
had  a  strong  suspicion  that 
the  rats  were  blamed  for  the 
appetite  of  a  stal  wart  police- 
man  who  used  to  lean  over 
the  area  railings,  and  then 
go  up  the  street  wiping  his 
mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
band  in  a  very  suspicious 
manner. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Mr. 
Thompson,  "where  your 
family  came  from." 

Mr.  Rodeiitiasmiled  good- 
naturedly,  and  replied: 

"The  history  of  our  fam- 
ily is  buried  in  a  mass  of 
tradition,  some  of  which  is 
no  doubt  true  and  some 
false.  It  is  said  that  we 
used  to  live,  many  thousand 
years  ago,  under-ground  in 
Persia,  but  being  disturbed 
by  an  earthquake,  we  mi- 
grated westward,  driving 
.before  us  our  weaker  cous- 
ins the  black  rats.  It  was 
about  the  time  of  our  migra- 


tion that  the  incident  occurred  upon  which  the  legend 
of  Bishop  Hatto's  tower  in  the  Rhine  is  founded.  We 
penetrated  the  whole  of  Europe,  but  were  unable  to 
get  to  England  on  account  of  its  being  surrounded  bv 
water.  Some  of  my  direct  ancestors,  however,  went 
from  Norway  to  England  in  a  ship-load  of  lumber,  and 
we  were  consequently  called  for  many  years  Noruav 
rats.  From  England  to  this  country  the  passage  was 
easy,  as  there  were  so  many  ships  going  to  and  fro. 
Since  we  came  here  we  have  nourished,  and  now  there 
is  hardly  a  house  which  is  not  inhabited  by  one  or  more 
families  of  rats." 

"How  came  you  to  change  your  habits  from  liv- 
ing under-ground  to  living  in  houses?"  asked  Mr. 
Thompson. 

Merely  for  convenience,"  replied  Mr.  Rodentia. 
"We  have  a  large  family  of  cousins  now  living  in 
(  'alifornia  who  have  houses  under-ground.  Living  in 
houses  as  we  do  we  are  nearer  the  kitchen,  which  is 
the  source  of  Mipply  u  il  h  us." 
"  1 1  Mini ih  !"  said  Mr.  Thompson. 

"You  must  not  think  that  we  are  entirely  useless," 
said  the  rat.  quickly,  observing-  Mr.  Thompson's  con- 
tempt. "  In  I'hina  they  make  pies  of  us,  and  many  of 
l  li«'  hoi  kill  gloves  arc  made  of  our  skins." 

Mr.  Thompson  yawned;  he  was  getting  very  sleepy, 
and  wished  that  lie  could  change  hack  into  his  own 
shape,  so  as  to  i;o  to  lied.  Mr.  Rodentia  did  not  no- 
tice this,  lint  continued : 

"Now  I  am  going  to  see  if—  What  he  was  going  to 
do  Mr.  Thompson  will  never  know, for  just  at  this  point 
he  gave  a  shrill  sipieak  of  alarm,  and  crying,  "The  cat! 
I  he  eat!"  he  dashed  under  the  wash-stand.  Mr.  Thompson 
jumped  with  a  sudden  involuntary  fear,  and  found  him- 
self sittingat  his  desk,  with  his  pen  still  in  his  hand.  He 
looked  toward  the  wash-stand,  and  there,  with  his  green 
eyes  gleaming  and  his  tail  quivering  with  excitement, 
stood  Tom,  the  landlady's  cat.  Mr.  Thompson  rose  slow- 
ly and  looked  at  his  watch;  it  was  half  past  three. 

lie  said  nothing  about  his  adventure  to  his  fellow-board- 
ers, for  he  was  getting  tired  of  the  fun  they  made  of  him. 
But  he  told  me  in  confidence  the  other  day;  so  if  any  of 
you  see  Mr.  Thompson,  don't  let  him  know  that  I  have 
repeated  the  story  to  you. 


'"THOSE    ARE    PIE-RATS.'    REPLIED    MR.  RODENTIA." 


286 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


r  i  uiK  dreadful  11 Is  whichhave  distressed  some 

-I  of  our  frii-mls  in  the  West  have,  no  doubt, 
been  seen  in  their  wild  terrors  by  many  of  our 
little  readers.  One  of  them,  writing  to  the  Post- 
niisi  ivss,  gives  a  graphic  description  of  what  she 
went  through,  and  the  children  far  and  wide  will 
be  full  of  sympathy  as  they  read  her  letter  : 

Jil'STII?.,    MASSAOIr^.TTS. 

I  write  to  you  to  tell  you  of  my  dreadful  expe- 
ririice  on  the  Ohio  River.  I  live  in  Cincinnati, 
and  1  was  staying  a  little  outside  the  city,  in  my 
grandpa's  house,  when  the  river  began  t  <  >  rise  rap- 
idly. It  came  up  around  the  house,  and  trot  high- 
er and  higher.  Grandpa  said  that  if  it  did  not 
stop  rising,  the  house  would  be  carried  away.  It 
did  not  stop,  and  grandpa  began  to  try  and  yet  a 
boat  to  come  and  take  us  off.  The  water  was 
then  seven  feet  deep  around  the  house. 

No  boat  could  be  found,  and  in  two  days  the 
house  lioated  off  with  us.  We  tloated  around  for 
two  days,  and  our  food  was  nearly  gone.  At  last 
we  stuck  on  some  high  ground  ten  miles  from 
where  we  started,  and  we  got.  taken  off'  in  a  boat. 

Grandpa  lias  sent  mamma  and  my  brothers  and 
sisters  and  me  to  Boston  to  our  aunt's  to  be  safe 
until  he  and  papa  get  us  another  home,  for  our 
city  house  is  all  Hooded. 

Uucle  Charles  writes  this  for  me.  I  would  have 
written  it  myself,  but  my  wrist  is  sprained.  I 
am  twelve  years  old.  1  like  YOUNU  PEOPLE  very 
much.  ALICE  S. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  live  at  the  Cliff  House,  and  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  about  it.  You  can  see  the  Seal  Itocks,  which 
are  covered  witli  seals,  and  when  a  storm  comes 
the  seals  go  to  the  top  of  the  rocks,  and  when  it 
is  windy  they  go  into  the  water.  My  sister  Alice 
and  1  go  down  on  tin-  beach,  and  take  the  New- 
foundland dogs  Barney  and  Mose.  We  throw 
sticks  into  the  water,  and  the  dogs  rush  in  and 
bring  tliem  back  to  us. 

My  uncle  brings  me  my  paper  every  Saturday, 
and  I  am  so  glad  when  he  brings  it.  I  like  to 
read  the  little  girls' letters,  and  1  am  very  much 
pleased  with  the  story  of  "Nan."  My  name  is 
Etta  A.,  and  1  am  nine  years  old.  My  sister's 
name  is  Alice  A.,  and  she  is  six  ;  and  Kdna  is  my 
youngest  sister,  and  she  is  fourteen  months  old. 

We  all  play  together,  and  have  very  good  times. 
We  go  to  ride  in  the  Golden  (iatu  Park,  and  go 
into  the  big  conservatory  ;  it  has  a  great  many 
flowers  in  It,  and  is  very  beautiful.  Sometimes 
we  wade  in  the  water  ou  the  beach,  and  about  ev- 
ery time  I  get  sick.  1  am  taking  lessons  on  the 
piano  I  go  to  school,  and  I  am  in  the  sixth 
(irade.  I  made  some  dolls'  clothes,  some  lace 
pillow  shams,  and  a  large  patehwork  quilt,  and 
jmt  them  in  the  fair,  and  1  received  a  diploma  for 
my  work.  ETTA  A. 

I  am  very  much  pleased  to  hear  that  your  work 
was  so  neat  and  so  nieely  finished  that  you  re- 
ceived a  reward  for  it.  1  would  give  up  wading 
if  1  were  you,  if  illness  always  follows  the  pas- 
time. 


I  intended  to  write  you  from  London  and  Par- 
is, but  in  London  there  was  too  much  rain,  and 
in  Paris  too  much  sunshine.  llowevijr.  wr  saw 
in  London  the  Tower,  the  Gallery,  the  Museum, 
the  Tussaud  Wax-Works,  etc.  We  thought  the 
English  country  very  beautiful ;  it  is  like  a  park. 
We  went  to  Stratford-on-Avon,  Warwick  t  'astir, 
Kenil worth  Castle,  and  other  places.  We  crossed 
the  i  'ha  m  ic  I  !M 'tween  Dover  and  Calais.  We  were 
all  ready  to  be  seasick,  but  were  agreeably  dis- 
appointed. 

Paris  was  lovely.  We  went  to  Versailles,  and 
I  think  it  is  the  most  perfect  place  I  ever  saw. 
From  Paris  we  went  to  Kreuznach.  where  we 
.staid  all  summer.  From  there  we  went  to  Eisen- 
ach, where  Martin  Luther  lived,  and  to  the  Wart- 
burg  Castle;  it  is  very  beautiful.  \\  <•  saw  iln' 
room  in  which  Luther  translated  the  Bible.  Per- 
h;i|is  some  of  you  have  not  read  the  story  of  St. 
Elizabeth,  so  I  will  relate  it  as  the  guide  told  it 
to  us  at  the  castle. 

tiueen  Elizabeth  was  a  very  good  woman,  and 
once,  when  she  was  going  to  relieve  the  poor, 
she  tilled  her  apron  with  loaves  of  bread,  on 
her  way  down  the  hill  she  met  the  King,  her  hus- 
band, who  was  sometimes  very  stern.  He  asked 
her  what  she  had  in  her  apron.  Flowers,  she 
promptly  replied.  He  pulled  down  the  apron  to 
see,  and  sure  enough  the  loaves  had  been  changed 
to  roses.  After  a  while  her  husband  was  killed, 
and  she  and  her  children  were  turned  out.  of  the 
castle  by  his  brother,  who  became  King,  ami  she 
left  her  little  children  and  went  into  a  convent. 
<Jue  of  the  children  starved  to  death,  one  was 


killed,  and  the  other  lived  to  grow  up.  She  was 
made  a  saint. 

1  think  a  good  mother  is  the  best  kind  of  a 
saint. 

Then  we  came  to  Dresden.  At  first  we  thought 
it  a  beautiful  city— such  Hue  streets,  and  galleries 
of  wonderful  pictures — but  soon  my  sister  was 
taken  ill,  and  then  1  had  scarlet  fever,  and  Tom 
was  at  the  hotel  with  papa  and  brother  1-rank. 
and  now  we  are  going  to  Italy,  where  it  will  be 
warmer.  Tom  and  1  have  been  to  school  here, 
and  study  out  of  German  books,  and  1  like  to  read 
and  speak  the  language  very  much. 

But  one  of  the  best  things  is  that  we  still  have 
IlAKi-Eit's  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  1  have  just  made  two 
Wiggles,  and  send  them  to  you.  Please  choose 
which  you  think  the  better.  This  is  my  first  ef- 
fort. KATIE  K. 

Both  Wiggles  are  good,  and  I  have  sent  them 
to  our  artist  with  a  number  of  others.  If  you 
will  turn  to  No.  143,  Vol.  111.,  yon  will  find  the 
story  of  St.  Elizabeth  of  Thuriugia  beautifully  re- 
lated by  Mrs.  Helen  S.  Conant,  and  also  a  lovely 
picture  of  her.  She  was  a  very  beautiful  and 
noble  woman,  and  although  she  made  some  mis- 
takes, we  shall  not  do  very  wrong  if  we  imitate 
her  virtues  and  her  kiudness  to  the  poor  and  suf- 
fering. 1  hope,  Katie,  that  you  will  write  again 
from  sunny  Italy.  We  stay-at-home  people  like 
to  hear  from  our  friends  who  are  ou  the  wing. 


VALENTINE'S  VIOLETS. 

The  morning  of  St.  Valentine's  dawned  clear 
and  cold.  The  sun's  bright  rays  seemed  to  pen- 
etrate everywhere  without  giving  warmth  or 
mildness  to  the  air.  Few  people  were  to  be  seen 
in  the  street  as  ten  o'clock  approached.  The 
working  people  were  at  their  tasKS,  the  children 
were  at  school,  anil  so  the  street,  usually  very 
uoisy,  was  quiet  and  almost  deserted. 

In  the  top-floor  front  room  of  a  rather  poor- 
looking  structure  a  little  girl  was  hastily  don- 
ning street  attire  in  a  manner  eager  and  solemn 
at  once.  The  room  contained  very  little  furni- 
ture, but  what  was  there  was  in  perfect  order. 
Aunt  Charity  was  very  particular,  and  Valentine 
helped  illl  she  could. 

Then  the  little  girl  was  Valentine?  Yes;  and 
she  was  only  seven  years  old.  Presently  she  be- 
gan to  talk  to  hersril.  she  knew  she  was  alone. 
Poor  child  !  she  usually  was. 

"Now  I've  done  all  Aunt  Charity  wanted  me 
to,  and  I  can  go  and  get  papa's  vi'lets.  He  al- 
ways loved  vi'lets.  Last  Valentine's  Day  he 
brought  me  a  great  big  bunch,  lie  never  iiked 
the  paper  valentines,  lie  told  me  i  have  to  be  his 
Valentine,  anil  nothing  else  is  needed  'eept  vi'lets. 
I  II  get  all  I  can,  ana  then'' — her  lips  quivered 
slightly—"!  ki/uic  he'll  see  them,  and  know  his 
little  Valentine  remembered.  ' 

Then  eagerly  little  Valentine  took  from  behind 
t  lie  i -lock  ;L  ten-ecu  I  piece,  and  alter  depositing  it 
in  one  ol  her  red  mittens  she  descended  the  stairs 
ami  entered  the  street.  Soon  she  was  onBroad- 
way,  and  threading  her  way  among  the  busy 

crowds  of  people. 

But  why  was  she  g< 'ing  for  her  violets  all  alone ? 
Where  was  her  papa'/  Ah  !  it  was  almost  a  year 
since  her  lather  had  died  and  lett  his  little  girl  an 
orphan.  Since  then  Aunt  Charity  had  taken  care 
ot  her.  But  then  she  was  a  seamstress,  leaving 
home  every  day,  and  the  little  girl  was  oiu-n 
alone. 

Valentine's  search  for  the  girl  who  sold  flowers 
was  successtul  alter  walking  a  few  blocks.  She 
gave  her  the  money,  and  received  in  return  a 
bunch  of  sweet  early  violets.  They  were  very, 
very  few. 

"  Very  early  for  violets,"  the  girl  explained, 
seeing  the  disappointed  face. 

Valentine  smiled  bravely, and  started  forborne. 

"They're  few.  but  such  u>  ar  pretty  ones.  I'm 
sure  papa  will  see  them,  lie  said  mamma  was 
like  them.  1  wonder  it  ./'Sever  be." 

She  was  crossing  Broadway  now.  The  street 
was  slippery,  and  she  mast  step  carefully.  Oh, 
there  was  a  stage  coming:  Some  one  called, 
"Be  careful,  there!"  she  looked  about  in  an 
uncertain  way.  She  tried  to  step  forward,  but 
the  danger*seemed  too  near.  Her  feet  gave  way 
beneath  her,  she  fell  heavily,  and  then  she  knew 
nothing  until  she  found  herself  in  a  small  white 
bed.  with  a  gentleman  bending  over  her,  and  a 
lady  sitting  by  her  side  holding  her  hands. 

".There  is  no  hope,"  the  doctor  said.  "The 
injury  is  internal.  The  little  one  can  not  live." 

The  dark  eyes  opened  slowly.  In  spite  of  pain, 
a  smile  lit  up  the  pale  little  face. 

"Oh, may  1  go  to  papa?"  she  asked,  tremulously. 

"  When  you  are  better,"  the  doctor  answered, 
soothingly. 

The  smile  faded  from  her  face  ;  she  looked  dis- 
appointed. But  the  pain  came  on,  and  for  a  little 
while  she  could  not  speak.  When  it  had  passed 
aw.iv  the  matron  bent  over  her.  "  What is  your 
name,  little  one?"  she  asked. 
_  The  answer  was  spoken  slowly  and  softly. 
"My  name  was  Violet,  for  mamma;  but  papa 
said  there  could  only  be  one  Violet  for  him.  and 
so  he  called  me  Valentine." 

"  u  lnTe  is  your  papa,  Valentine?" 

"Papa  is  in  heaven."  The  voice  was  fainter 
now. 

"  And  for  whom  were  the  violets,  dear  child  ?" 


"  For  papa.  To  put — in  my  room — so  papa — 
would  know  his  little — Valentine — had  remem- 
bered." The  last  words  were  scarcely  audible. 
Presently  she  spoke  again.  "I'm  tired  now.  I 
want  to  .sleep."  she  tolded  her  hands  and  closed 
lit T  eyes.  Softly  she  repeated,  "Now  1  lay  me." 
Then  the  dark  eyes  opened  for  a  moment;  a 
smile  played  about  her  lips,  she  closed  her  eyes 
again,  her  hands  remaining  quietly  folded. 

The  room  was  very  still.  A  ray  of  sunshine  fell 
up' .11  the  child's  quiet,  peaceful  lace.  The  doctor 
felt  her  pulse. 

"  All  is  over,"  he  said,  softly. 

The  matron's  eyes  were  full.  A  tear  fell  upon 
Valentine's  dark  curls.  "Dear  little  one !"  she 
whispered.  "  The  father  has  his  Valentine." 

And  the  doctor  added,  in  Longfellow's  words: 

"' Oh,  though  oft  depressed  and  lonely, 

All  my  fears  are  laid  aside, 
If  I  but  remember  only 
Such  as  these  have  lived  and  died."' 
NELLIE. 

The  writer  of  "  Valentine's  Violets"  is  a  little 
girl  of  thirteen,  and  the  story  was  composed  by 
her  as  a  school  exercise  and  given  to  her  teacher, 
who  had  requested  the  members  of  her  class  to 
write  something  appropriate  to  St.  Valentine's 
Day.  Although  the  day  is  past,  our  little  read- 
ers will  enjoy  Nellie's  story,  and  our  thanks  are 
due  to  her  teacher,  who  kindly  sent  it  to  the 
Post-office  Box.  Perhaps  one  of  these  days  we 
may  have  the  pleasure  of  numbering  Miss  Nellie 
among  the  regular  contributors  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 
While  on  the  subject  let  me  tell  you,  children, 
that  the  Postmistress  was  not  forgotten  when 
the  pretty  little  love  missives  were  flying  about 
as  thick  as  snow-flakes.  She  received  a  sweet 
little  valentine,  which  she  could  plainly  see  was 
the  work  of  childish  fingers,  and  with  it  this  dain- 
ty bit  of  rhyme  : 

"  To  our  Postmistress  fine 
We  send  our  valentine. 
We  love  her  very  much — 
Would  that  there  were  more  such !" 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

Although  I  am  a  young  man  of  twenty-one,  I 
read  and  appreciate  HAIIPEU'S  YOUNI;  PEOPLE. 
I  have  bought  it  every  week  since  it  was  issued, 
and  after  I  am  through  with  it  1  give  it  to  my 
two  nephews,  aged  ten  and  seven  respective- 
ly. YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  far  superior  to  the  pa- 
pers i  used  to  read  at  their  age.  I  was  read- 
ing about  Hare  and  Hounds.  1  can  remember 
playing  that  game  or  something  similar  in  the 
city.  The  way  we  played  it  was  this.  Two  or 
three  boys  would  be  the  Hares,  and  start  on  a 
run.  Each  would  have  a  piece  of  chalk  in  his 
hand,  and  would  mark  on  the  stones  a  figure  like 
the  letter  A,  thus  giving  the  trail.  They  would 
be  rive  or  six  blocks  in  advance,  and  then  the 
Hounds  would  go  after  them.  The  Hares  would 
run  any  way  they  chose,  so  long  as  they  would 
mark  the  trail,  and  sometimes  would  write  short 
sentences  on  the  stones.  To  finish  the  game  the 
Hares  would  run  into  some  building,  and  hide 
themselves  until  they  were  found.  1  do  not  see 
it  played  now  in  this  rh  \ . 

To  conclude,  will  the  Postmistress  answer  this 

S  in  >l  inn  :  Is  it  good  English  to  say.  "  1  neglected 
irough  negligence,"  and  can  it  be  used? 

L.  M. 


Your  liking  for  Y'OUNG  PEOPLE  and  your  interest 
in  it  are  very  gratifying  to  its  conductors,  who 
appreciate  the  compliment  you  pay  it.  City 
boys  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,  notwithstand- 
ing difficulties,  they  may  play  Hare  and  Hounds 
if  they  wish.  I  myself  remember  to  have  seen 
mysterious  chalk  marks  on  pavements  now  and 
then,  but  I  do  not  recall  any  frantic  rush  of  b.  >ys' 
feet  in  the  same  localities.  It  would  be  well  to 
select  retired  streets  for  such  games,  as  a  pell- 
mell  chase  of  Hare  and  Hounds  on  a  thorough- 
fare would  alarm  nurse-maids  and  babies,  upset 
toddling  children,  and  greatly  disturb  quiet-go- 
ing old  ladies  and  gentlemen.  So  pleasr.  dear 
Hounds  and  Hares,  choose  your  ground  with 
care  if  you  have  a  chase  in  the  city. 

"  Negligent  through  negligence"  is  not  good 
English.  It  is  a  form  of  speech  which  we  call 
tautology,  an  unnecessary  repetition  of  the  same 
tiling,  which  is  weak  and  inelegant. 


SOUTH  FRAMINGHAM,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

My  darling  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  I  think  you  are  love- 
ly.  I  take  a  number  of  papers  and  magazines, 
but  like  you  the  best  of  all.  Hive  in  the  country. 
but  1  am  away  at  school  now.  I  board  with  a 
very  sweet  young  lady,  and  go  home  every  other 
week.  We  have  a  very  nice  teacher.  At  lnunr 
\\r  have  seven  dogs  and  ten  eats — what  do  \i.u 
think  of  that?— and  two  of  the  cunningest  little 
puppies  that  ever  were  seen. 

1  send  lots  of  love  and  kisses  to  the  Postmis- 
tress. JESSIE  B.  H. 

Seven  dogs  !  And  ten  cats  !  Bow-wow-wow  ! 
And  mieouw, mieouw, mieouw !  I  should  think 


MARCH  G,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


287 


you  would  be  perfectly  wild  with  such  a  chorus. 

Do    the    seventeen    march    (lilt   to   inert   VOU    when 

you  return  from  school  each  fortnight':  And  do 
you  e\-cr  tuck  ;i  kitten  into  your  sate  hcl  or  smug- 
gle a  puppy  into  your  pocket  when  you  start  to 
gOtO  sehool? 

l:y-tlic-!iyc.  I  wish  the  chiklren  wlio  make  pets 
of  their  chickens  would  write  to  the  Post-office 
Box.  A  little  later  in  the  sea-on  and  some  of 
you  will  have  pretty  broods  to  feed,  I'm  thinking. 


What  would  you  do  if  you  had  written  to  ;i 
hoy  whose  exchange  was  printed  in  No.  130,  in- 
closing forty  stamps,  and  had  written  rive  times 
since  tin -ii  and  never  received  an  answer?  I  have 
(loin-  all  I  (tan.  I  hope  it  is  because  t  he  I.,  ,\  Is  sick 
or  has  gone  away  somewhere.  f..r  I  don't  want 
to  think  him  dishonest.  Now  for  my  exchange 

1  will  gi\  .•  t  hi foreign  stamps  for  any  one  stamp 

not  in  my  collection,  and  six  for  an  uncancelled 
one  n»l  in  my  collection.  No  torn  or  badly  caii- 
eellcd  stamps  taken.  Do  not  send  stamps 'in  let 
ter.  but  send  list,  ami  I  will  select  what  I  want 
and  mark  them.  Please  print  this.  Withlo-soi 

Love  to  t  lie  Post  mistress,  I  will  sa>  ur I  b\ 

CLINTON-  H.  FISK.  JIN. 

531  Fifth  Av.,  New  York  City. 

We  call  the  attention  of  the  delin.|iient  boy  to 
this  letter,  and  hope  lie  \vill  write  at  one.e  and 

explain  his  silet If  exchangers  would  in  ,.\ 

cry  case  arrange  the  details  of  their  exchanges 
by  letters  or  postals,  we  think  these  misunder- 
standings, of  which  complaints  ;u-e  oceasionally 
made.  would  not  occur.  Please  read  the  notice 
at  the  head  of  the  Exchange  column. 


BI.AMII    >K  l>.   M  ,-*  t,  HfSETT*. 

I  have  taken  Y.n  N..  PK .1:  about  .,  year,     1 

ha\e  I n  pleased  with  it  from  the  tirsl  ;  but  as 

I  learn  better  ho  w  to  read,  2  i-'n  >w  moi-e  and  more 
iuleri  sled  ill  it.  I  ha\e  got  a  little  axe.  and  if 

lie     \v i    is  small   I  can   chop   all  the  wood   we 

burn.     Papa  says,  "  Don't  cut  your  In  ml  ;  you  may 

cut  \ourfooi."    I  have  no  pets,  except  a  brother 

four  years  (.1.1  and  a  sister  two— I, evi  and  Kosina. 
Levii  a  cute,  black-eyed  little  fellow,  has  ag I 

memory,  speaks  itieees  in  public,  and  has  sum: 
songs  e\-er  since  he  was  two  years  old.  Well, 
dear  Postmistress,  good-liy  for'this  time  I  am 

only  eight  years  old.  and  can  not  write  very  «'  II. 

MYRON  n. 

I  think  your  letter  was  very  well  written,  apid 
yon  are  a  sturdy  little  fellow  to  handle  an  axe  at 
eight 


\"  .10   I.   I   I   .   Tl     .  - 

The  letler  from  A.C.N..  in  No  166,  gave  me  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure.  I  hop.-  he  will  write  a-  i  in 
:ind  tell  me  how  to  play  "Cuing  to  Jerusalem" 
and  "  l.'achel  and  Jacob."  and  be  sure  to  describe 
the  "Nursery, "and  tell  what  they  all  do  rainy 
days.  There  are  seven  of  us— four  girls  and  thn-l- 
l...\s  Tii,' oldest  willbetwelvenexl  mouth.  M\ 
brother  and  1  have  roller  skates,  aPld  we  have  lots 
of  fun  in  the  long  gallery.  L.  T.  W. 


Piv.  KVHY,  NK«-  YORK. 

Papa,  mapiima.  and  my  little  sister  went  to  the 
State  Fail-  last  fall,  and  I  staid  at  home  with 
grandma  to  keep  house.  I  rut  my  lingers  paring 
potatoes,  and  burned  them  too.  Mamma  said 
she  knew-  I  had  worked  by  t  lie  looks  of  my  happds. 
I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers.  I 
am  eleven  years  old.  t  like  " Nan"  and  "  1,'cg." 
Grandma  gave  me  a  gold  ring  for  my  binhday 
present.  Jimmy  is  a  funny  boy.  ALLIE  G. 

You  are  welcome  as  a  Little  Housekeeper,  but 
I  hope  you  will  learn  how  to  work  without  burn- 
ing the  poor  hands. 

DAVENPORT,  IOK-A. 

We  are  four  little  Ilawkeyes  who  have  taken 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the  first  number.  We  have 
two  volumes  bound.  We  have  a  pet  turtle.  We 
have  had  him  nearly  four  years.  In  summer  he 
lives  in  a  tub  of  sand,  and  we  drilled  a  spnall  hole 
through  his  shell,  and  we  often  tie  him  in  the 
strawberry  bed.  He  likes  strawberries  when 
they  are  ripe,  and  ripe  tomatoes,  but  earth- 
worms best  of  all.  We  have  a  canary-bird.  His 
name  is  Lemon;  his  mate's  was  Ade ;  and  we 
called  both  of  them  Lemonade.  Good-by. 

JENNIE  II. 


OLVMPIA,  WAsmvr.TOv  TERRITORY. 

I  live  in  Olympia.  a  pretty  little  city  surn  mnded 
by  oysters  and  clams.  I  have  two  doi.'s.  a  horse, 
and  a  rabbit.  I  had  two  rabbits,  but  my  do.' 
killed  one,  and  my  sister,  who  is  twice  as  old  as  I 
am.  cried  all  day.  Girls  are  such  babies  '  Their 
eyes  are  always  full  of  tears.  It  snowed  last 
night,  and  now  it  is  raining,  and  my  mother  won't 
let  me  go  to  school  because  I  have  a  cold.  That 
is  the  way  it  always  does  here,  so  a  fellow  can't 
have  any  fun.  There  is  a  little  boy  next  door  to 
us  who  is  a  great  friend  of  mine.  We  like  to  play 
show.  One  day  I  was  acting  on  the  trapeze,  and 
fell  off,  and  sprained  my  arm.  I  had  to  cry  that 


time.  My  sister  thinks  I  am  like  Jimmy  Brown. 
I  think  Jimmy  Blown  is  a  splendid  boy,  and  I 
wisli  he  would  write  oftener.  U.  W.U. 

Well,  well,  well,  girls  are  such  babies !  I  see 
nothing  babyish  in  crying  over  a  dead  pet  nor 
over  a  .sprained  arm  ;  but  if  1  should  say  what  I 
think  about  livttingwheii  mothers  say  that  boys 
ouLin  lo  stay  in  the  house,  why,  I  uiujhl  hurt 
your  feelings.  So  I  won't  say  a  word. 


Ill  MIXGTON,  llASSACHl-SBTTS. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,—]  send  a  list  of  r>i  words 
formed  from  letters  copitained  in  the  word  '  or 
phanism."  1  think  if  Jimmy  Brown  \\  ..n  Id  spend 
some  of  his  t  ime  rinding  words  like  that  he  would 
get  into  less  troiilile.  My  mother  says  Jimmy 
Brown  is  one  of  the  kind  of  boys  that  statesmen 
are  made  of,  but  1  don't  think  so. 

NELSON  E.  P. 

Your  list  has  i, ,.,.,,  placed  with  the  others  :  it  is 
a  very  g...  ,d  one.  I  hope  Master  Jimmy  will  see 
what  you  say,  and  try  to  improve  his  mind. 


"UHPIIANISM." 

One  hundred  and  forty  of  our  young  readers 
have  sen!  us  the  results  of  their  cft'oris  to  form 
various  other  words  from  the  letters  contained 
in  tin-  one  (It  these  fifty-two  have  sent  us  lists 
containing  more  than  fifty  words.  lifty  six  have 
sent  lists  containing  more  than  one  hundred 
words,  and  eighteen  have  sent  lists  containing 
more  iliaii  one  hundred  and  lifty  words. 

The  honor  ot  having  collected  the  la  ivst  num- 
ber ol  'correct  English  words  belongs,  in  our  opin- 
ion, lo  Ma- 1  er  John  It.  (  den.  His  is  not  the  Ion- 
est  list  ;  but  that  Of  .Master  Willie  1,'Mler.  which 

exceeds  it  in  number,  c,  .ill  aini  ng  t  wo  h  in  MI  i  -e.  I  a  ml 
si\t\  eight  word.,  include.*  ton  many  terms  which 
c.i  u  ii'  'i  l>e  sail  to  eome  within  the  required  lim- 
itation of  "  good  English  words." 

We  publish  Master  (den's  list  in  order  to  show 
the  number  of  words  that  may  be  formed  Inun 

t  hesr  nine   let  t  (  Ts  : 

DEAR  Yorxu  PKOPI.E,— Inclosed  I  send  a  list  of 
words,  all  of  which  arc  formed  b\  th.  letters 
contained  in  "  (  Irphanisin,"  numbering  •.':>->.  leav- 
ing out  all  slang,  plurals,  obsolete  words,  and 

preti  ses          Kespeetflllly. 

JOHN    li.  (.I.I.N.  Xaeoochee,  Georgia. 

I  \.  ai.  aia.  ah.  aha.  aim.  air.  aira.  an.  an. .11. 
amiss,  a niiiioi i ia.  am.  apish,  as.  ass.  amass,  amain, 
aim. i.  a. nn.  ahriman.  aish.  ania.  auiina.  ainman. 
amphor.  amphora,  ana.  auhiiua.  aoniali.  aphis, 
aphorism,  apron,  apropos,  apsis,  aria,  arian.  ari- 
anisui.  arm,  armor,  arinan,  aroma,  aroph,  arra.s, 
asa,  .1  -h.  assai.  assassin. 

//. — Ha,  ham.  ln.ni,  ho,  boa,  hoar.  his.  him,  hair, 
hop,  harp.  harm.  hap.  happin.  harass,  barns,  har- 
poon, harsh,  has.  hash,  hasp,  hiss,  hoop,  hoora, 
iiop.  h.  in-or,  lion.  ,r 

/. — I.  is.  in,  imp,  im,  iman.  imam,  impair,  impas- 
sion, impoor.  iris,  iron,  imprison,  imprimis. 

.'/.—Ma.  maim.  main,  man,  map.  inainor.  mar. 
maranon,  mars,  mai-sh.  mass,  iniasm.  miasma, 
minim,  minion,  minioiiship.  minor,  mirror,  mis- 
pri-ii.n,  misopiniou.  miss,  mission,  moan.  Mor 
mon.Mormonisin.  morass,  mormo, morion,  morn. 
Hi'  i-s.  mop.  mopish,  moon,  moor,  monsoi  <n,  nioii- 
sooni.  Mo.  irish. 

-V. — Nap,  nan,  noon,  no.  nor,  noil.  nip. 

O. — O!  oar,  oh:  on,  opah,  or,  orion,  orison, 
oasis,  omission,  onion,  opinion,  orphan,  orphan- 
isin. 

P.— Pain,  pair,  pain,  pan,  panorama,  pap.  papa. 
par,  pass,  piano,  pillion,  pin,  pinion,  pip,  pish, 
pomp,  poison,  pop,  porism,  poss,  pram,  prim, 
prism,  prior,  prison,  proa.  prop,  psoas,  psora. 

X.—  Ifa.  rain.  raip.  ram.  raim mil,  ramp,  rampion, 
ramson,  ran.  ransom,  rap.  rash,  rasp,  rip,  raisin, 
rim.  rhino,  roam,  roan.  roar.  Roman,  Romanism, 
Romanish,  romp,  rosin. 

6'.— Samp.  sans.  sap.  sapor,  sash.  sham,  shaman, 
sharp,  shash.  shin,  ship.  shop,  shopman,  shrimp, 
simoon,  simoom,  sin.  sir.  sip.  siphon,  siro,  sirop, 
sirrah,  siss.  smaris.  smash,  snap.  snip,  snipsnap, 
so,  soar,  soap.  son.  soon,  soo-soo.  sop.  soph,  sophi, 
sophism,  sot.  spahi.  span.  spin,  sponsor,  sponsion, 
spoon,  spa,  spasm,  shah,  sinapism,  sprain. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  COT. 

Contributions  received  for  Young  People's  Cot 
in  Holy  Innocent's  Ward.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal for  Children.  407  West  Thirty-fourth  Street : 

Cash.  8c. :  Laura  Butt  Kay.  Plainfleld.  N.  Y..  gl  ; 
Ilattie  s.  Ilecker.  South  Worcester.  3(lc.  ;  I.  J., 
Brooklyn.  §1 ;  In  Memoriam,  ••  Winnie."  §1 :  Wirt 
Beach  Appley,  Damascus,  1'enn  .  $1  :  Proceeds  of 
an  entertainment  given  by  the  scholars  of  the 
public  school  at  New  Providence.  Iowa,  Sl~  e"> ; 
In  Memoriam.  Francis  Edwin  Hoppin.  $1  ;  Cash, 
N.Y.,  $5;  Louise,  Hennie,  Ernie,  and  Eddy,  Brook- 
lyn, $5;  Harry  Cavenangh.  Fort  Stanton,  N.  M., 
$1  25;  Katie  F.  Hears,  Fort  Snelling,  Minn.,  $3; 
Scott  Delamater,  Meadville,  Penn.~  $1 ;  Birdie 


Hi.  I."*!.  ISS'Jl  17. 

E.  Ai  (,i  STA  l-ANsnA\vi.,  Treasurer.  4:1  New  SI. 


Inclosed  please  find  SIT  75  for  Young  people's 
Cot,  This  is  the  result  of  an  entertainment  giv- 
en  by  t  lie  scholars,  if  t  he  public  >eho..l.  We  Lope 
that  it  may  benefit  the  needy,  in  whom  we  are 
much  interested.  A.  L.  P.,  Teacher. 

DAMASCUS,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

Inclosed  is  gl  for  the  fund  for  Young  People's 
Cot.  Part  of  it  I  earned  by  drawing  in  wood  in 
my  expl'ess  wagon  tor  my  mamma,  and  the  rest 
was  gi\en  me.  lam  seven  years  old.  have  a  kind 
papa  and  mamma  to  take  care  ot  me  when  I  am 

sick,  and  am  \cry  sorry  for  i r  little  children 

who  have  no  one  to  1<>\  e  and  care  lor  them. 

WIRT  BEACH  APPLET. 


FORT  STAN-TON,  NF\V  MEXICO. 

I  inclose  $1  25  for  the  Cot  fund.  I  will  tell  you 
how  I  got  it.  I  with  four  other  boys  had  a  min- 
strel show.  We  are  all  sons  of  officers  stationed 

here,  and  our  ages  are  from  seven  to  eleven.  I 
am  the  eldest.  All  the  officers  and  ladies  came 
to  our  show.  The  admission  was  ten  cents.  We 
thought  the  best  tiling  we  could  do  with  the 
money  was  to  send  it  to  yon  for  the  Cot. 

HAIUU   CAVENAUGH. 


PUZZLES  FROM   Yot'NG  (  ON'TUIBUTORS. 

No    1. 

1H.UJONAL.          » 

1.  A  celebrated  Greek  philosopher.  2.  An  an- 
cient language.  :!.  lieaiitiful.  4.  To  let  by  hire. 
.ri.  A  country  in  Europe.  From  left  to  right,  a 
flower.  KINU  CHARLES. 


No.  'j 

INVERTED    PYRAMID. 

Across.— 1.  A  detached  work  in  fortification. 
'.'  ll.li  inking  to  the  marine.  3.  A  boy's  nickname 
I.  A  letter. 

Down.— :.  A  letter.  2.  A  part  of  speech.  3.  Front 
of  an  army.  4.  Exactly.  5.  A  boy  Ii.  Two-thirds 
of  ill.  7.  A  letter.  ETHEL  VICTOR. 


No.  :). 

AN  EASY   WORD    SQUARE. 

1.  A  girl's  name.    ~.  Part  of  a  tree.    3.  A  parent. 
4.  Not  near.  OSCAR  A.  M. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  172. 

No.  1.  "  Early  to  bed.  and  early  to  rise,  makes  a. 

man  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise  " 
Liberty.   Was.  New  York.  Torrid.  Books.  Wal- 
ter.    Esther.     Iron.     Senior. 


No.  2. 


N 
NED 

N   A    BO    I! 


R 

PET 
PACE 


N   E   B   U  I.  A  R  E  C  A  L   L   S 

D  O  L  O  R  O  T  E   L   L  Y 

B  A  R  E  M  U  SLY' 

R  O  M  U  L  I     s 


No.  4. 


JI 

A 

T 

1 

L 

I 

P 

( 

P 

M 

A 

N 

E 

S 

1 

P 

A 

H 

E 

D 

R  A 

N 

C 

11 

E 

S 

r 

K 

i; 

E 

K 

T 

E 

II 

1. 

E 

p 

E 

E 

K 

S 

S 

E 

E 

D 

i: 

S 

S 

Y 

J 

C 

A 

T 

J 

A 

M 

E 

S 

T 

E 

N 

S 

O 

I 

L 

N 

A 

B 

I 

C 

E 

A 

P 

K 

L 

E 

T 

B 

E 

T 

C 

O 

O 

B 

A 

R 

O 

L 

D 

A 

C 

E 

O 

Ii 

E 

R 

E 

H 

Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Jennie  P.  and  Mamie  Hull.  Yorke  Allen.  Ju- 
lia H.  L.  George,  L.  S.  Curtis.  Eureka,  Bessie  Wil- 
son, Molly  Gregg.  Joshua  P.  Turner.  Clarence  P. 
Richie,  Paula  Williams,  B.-ttie  Brown.  May  Kra- 
mer. Johnnie  Baxter.  Kay  Hutchinson.  Oscar  and 
Horace  S  Blossom.  Peter  Pringle,  Alex.  S  .  Uruno 
Vail.  Mary.  Estelle.  and  Albert  Merritield.  Louis 
I)..  Lizzie  Camp,  Agnes  Prit chard,  Fay.  Margaret 
Johnson.  Night-blooming  Cereus,  Ida  Emma  He- 
quemhoiirg,  AI.  Sinclair.  William  Pitt  Anderson, 
0.  T.  Z.,  and  Dora  and  Harry.  Prime. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


288 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SOJIK    ANSWERS    TO    WIGGLES    Nos.  30    AND    31,  AND    NEW    WIGGLE,  No.  32. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV. -NO.  ITU. 


POBLISHED  i;v    IIAlM'Ki;  A-    HROTIIKRS.  NKW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  March  13,  1.SK.H. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HABrKB  &  BK-ITHUU.S. 


$l..r)0  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


RAISING    THE 

BY      JAM  T:  S 
AUTHOIt  OF  "TOBY  TYLER,"  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   AMATEUR   PIRATE. 


A  FTER  the  boys  recovered  from  the  surprise  into 
-TV  wliii-h  Captain  Sannny  had  p] miffed  tlu-iii,  they  at 
once  began  to  lay  plans  for  the  raising  of  the  craft 


TM  THOMAS  TUCKER:" 


290 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


which  had  come  into  their  possession  so  unexpectedly. 
The  conversation  soon  took  a  very  lively  tone,  and  it  was 
nearly  dark  before  they  realized  that  they  had  spent  the 
afternoon  in  almost  useless  talk,  and  yet  had  a  walk  of 
half  u  mile  in  prospect  before  they  could  get  any  supper. 

With  the  twofold  purpose  of  getting  something  to  eat 
and  of  consulting  Mr.  Evans  as  to  the  best  method  of  set- 
ting about  the  work  they  had  so  suddenly  undertaken, 
they  started  toward  their  boarding-house  at  full  speed. 

They  were  nearly  home,  when  a  small-sized  boy  with  a 
very  large-sized  coat  appeared  from  behind  one  of  the 
buildings,  making  the  most  frantic  signals  to  attract  their 
attention.  He  presented  such  a  comical  appearance  as 
he  stood  there  holding  his  large  coat  from  actually  flying 
out  on  the  breeze  that  the  boys  would  have  stopped  to 
listen  to  him  even  though  they  had  been  in  a  much  great- 
er hurry. 

The  stranger  came  toward  them  stealthily,  as  if  he  had 
an  idea  some  one  might  try  to  prevent  him,  and  when  he 
was  as  near  as  he  could  get  without  actually  touching 
them,  he  said,  in  a  most  mysterious  whisper, 

"  Come  down  to  the  beach  in  half  an  hour." 

He  made  no  attempt  to  say  any  thing  more,  but  as  soon  as 
he  had  delivered  his  message,  or  command,  he  darted  back 
behind  the  building  again  so  quickly  that  hardly  anything 
could  be  seen  save  the  fluttering  of  one  ragged  and  patch- 
ed coat  tail  as  its  owner  turned  the  corner. 

It  was  too  mysterious  a  summons  to  be  disregarded. 
The  supper  was  eaten  hastily.  Mr.  Evans  given  a  very  brief 
account  of  Captain  Sammy's  proposition,  and  then  the 
boys  started  at  full  speed  for  the  beach,  their  curiosity  to 
know  what  was  wanted  of  them  driving  nearly  all  thought 
of  the  yacht  out  of  their  mind  for  the  time  being. 

Had  the  large-coated  boy  been  a  traitor  to  both  State 
and  friends  he  could  not  have  acted  in  a  more  myste- 
rious manner  than  when  he  was  delivering  his  message. 
Bobby  could  almost  feel  his  hat  lifted  from  his  head  by 
his  hair,  as  it  tried  to  stand  on  end,  when  he  realized  that, 
they  were  hastening  at  the  height  of  their  speed  to  the 
place  where  all  sorts  of  horrible  trials  might  be  awaiting 
them. 

Only  the  dread  that  his  cousins  would  think  him  a  cow- 
ard prevented  him  from  refusing  then  and  there  to  take 
another  step  seaward,  and  he  moved  along  a  few  paces  in 
the  rear  of  the  others,  feeling  as  if  he  •  were  hastening  to 
some  horrible  doom. 

Prompt  as  they  had  been  in  obeying  the  summons,  they 
found  the  mysterious  stranger  at  the  appointed  place  be- 
fore them.  He  was  standing  in  the  shade  cast  by  some 
mangrove  -  trees,  and  as  soon  as  the  three  boys  came  in 
sight  he  started  toward  them,  his  manner  suggesting  that 
he  fancied  every  person  in  the  town  to  be  on  the  alert  to 
prevent  him  from  keeping  his  appointment.  He  stepped 
lightly  and  cautiously,  as  if  he  feared  the  very  sound  of 
his  footsteps  might  betray  him,  and  glanced  behind  him 
every  few  moments  to  make  sure  he  had  not  been  fol- 
lowed. 

His  excessive  precaution  in  a  quiet  town  like  Tampa 
increased  Bobby's  fears  to  an  alarming  degree,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  exercise  the  full  power  of  his  will  to  pre- 
vent himself  from  running  away. 

As  when  he  had  met  them  earlier  in  the  evening,  it 
was  not  until  he  was  so  near  to  them  that  a  whisper  could 
be  heard  that  the  new-comer  spoke,  and  then  he  asked,  as 
he  glanced  suspiciously  around: 

' '  Did  anybody  know  you  was  comin'  here  ?" 
"No  one  but   my  father  and   mother,"   replied   Dare, 
wondering  what  all  these  precautions  could  mean;  while 
Bobby  was  now  more  positive  than  ever  that  a  plan  was 
on  foot  to  rob  them. 

"  What  made  you  tell  them  '."  asked  the  boy,  in  an 
angry  tone.  "Now  just'as  likely  as  not  they'll  tell  the 
rest  of  the  folks,  an'  they'll  come  down  here  an'  nab  us.'' 


"They  won't  tell  any  one,"  replied  Dare,  "but  if  they 
would,  why  should  any  one  trouble  us  ?'' 

"Hush!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  warningly,  as  he  crept 
carefully  around  on  his  tiptoes,  looking  suspiciously  at 
each  shadow  as  if  he  thought  an  enemy  might  be  near. 
Then,  having  examined  the  place  thoroughly,  he  beckon- 
ed them  to  come  down  nearer  the  water,  where  he  crouch- 
ed behind  a  small  clump  of  bushes. 

Now  Bobby  would  not  have  been  frightened  by  this  one 
boy;  but  from  the  manner  in  which  he  had  spoken  it 
seemed  almost  certain  that  there  were  others  somewhere 
near,  who  would  spring  upon  them  at  a  given  signal. 

"  Get  down  here  where  nobody  can  see  us.''  said  the  boy, 
as  he  crouched  closer  behind  the  bushes;  "an'  if  you  hear 
a  lot  of  men  comin',  run  jest  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"What  for  ?"  asked  Charley,  in  surprise. 

"What  for?"  repeated  the  boy.  "Why,  don't  yon 
know  who  I  be  ?"  and  he  spoke  as  if  he  felt  greatly  injured 
because  they  had  not  recognized  him. 

"I  never  saw  you  before,"  said  Dare,  looking  at  the  boy 
more  closely,  thinking  it  was  just  possible  that  he  might 
have  met  him  somewhere. 

"I  don't  s'pose  you  ever  did;  but  ain't  you  heard  of 
me  'round  Tampa  yet  ?  Didn't  Cap'n  Sammy  tell  you  all 
about  me  ?" 

"No,"  replied  the  boys,  in  one  breath,  and  Bobby  forgot 
his  suspicious  fears  in  his  desire  to  know  what  distinguish- 
ed person  they  had  among  them. 

"Then  cross  your  throats  that  you  won't  tell  nobody 
you  was  here  with  me,"  said  the  boy.  sternly. 

Dare  was  about  to  take  the  required  pledge,  when  he  re- 
membered that  his  mother  would  surely  ask  some  questions 
about  how  they  had  spent  the  evening',  and  he  said,  quickly, 

"  \Ve  won't  tell  any  one  beside  mother,  but  she'll  have 
to  know  all  about  it." 

"Well!  when  I  saw  you  fellers  I  thought  you'd  have 
more  nerve  than  to  run  right  to  your  mother  with  every- 
thing you  know." 

This  remark  had  very  little  effect  011  Dare.  He  was  a 
boy  who  would  never  have  thought  for  a  moment  of  do- 
ing anything  he  could  not  tell  his  mother,  and  he  had 
not  the  slightest  desire  to  embark  in  any  venture  about 
which  he  could  not  talk  freely  with  her.  He  considered 
her  the  truest  friend  a  boy  can  ever  have,  and  he  said, 
quite  sharply, 

"I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  anything  I  can't  tell  my 
mother,  and  I'd  have  you  know  that  it  would  take  more 
of  what  you  call  '  nerve'  for  me  not  to  run  to  her." 

The  boy  was  evidently  abashed,  and  to  cover  his  confu- 
sion he  went  through  the  form  of  scurrying  around  to  see 
if  any  one  was  concealed  near  them.  When  he  came 
back  he  said,  in  the  lowest  of  whispers,  which  he  tried  to 
make  sound  as  hoarse  as  possible,  in  order  to  add  to  the 
effect, 

"I'm  Thomas  Tucker!"  Then  he  started  back  as  if  he 
expected  to  hear  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  his  list- 
eners. 

But  none  was  heard.  The  name  sounded  peace-fid 
enough,  and  they  could  not  understand  why  so  much  cau- 
tion had  been  used  in  telling  it. 

"Don't  you  know  who  I  am  now  ?" 

"I  never  knew  of  any  one  by  that  name, "said  Dare, 
and  the  others  declared  that  they  were  equally  ignorant. 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what  the  matter  is.  You  can't  have 
been  'round  this  town  much  if  you  never  heard  of  me,  an' 
I  thought  sure  Cap'u  Sammy  would  have  told  you;  but  I 
s'pose  he  didn't,  want  to  scare  you  at  first;"  and  Master 
Tucker  seemed  to  find  a  deal  of  comfort  in  the  thought. 

"  Why,  who  are  you  ?''  asked  Charley,  impatient  at  the 
delay  in  learning  who  this  very  important  though  small 
and  dirty  person  was. 

"I'm  a  pirate!"  and  Master  Tucker  spoke  in  a  fierce 
whisper  as  he  gave  this  startling  information.  Then  he 


MARCH   IS,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


291 


added,  more  quietly,  "That  is,  I  shall  be  as  soon  as  I  get 
a  crew  an'  a  boat  an'  some  pistols.'1 

It  was  impossible  for  the  boys  to  make  any  reply,  for 
they  were  even  at  a  loss  to  know  what  ho  meant. 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it."  said  the  pirate  Tommy,  in 
the  most,  friendly  tone,  and  without  the  slightest  tinge  of 
blood-thirstiness  about  him.  "  I've  turned  a  reg'lar  pirate, 
an'  I've  got  a  black  Hag  that  I  made  out  of  a  piece  of  mo- 
ther's dress,  an'  the  folks  in  this  town  know  all  about  it, 
'cause  I  t  ried  to  get  some  of  the  fellers  here  to  join  me,  an' 
the\  wenl  an'  told.  Folks  is  awfully  afraid  of  me,  an'  I 
don't  s'pose  (.'ap'u  Sammy  would  go  out  in  one  of  his  boats 
al'lerihirk  when  I  was  'round — not  if  lie  knew  he  could  get 
six  turtles  for  iiothin'.  That's  why  I  had  to  be  so  careful 
when  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to-night,  'cause  if  any  of 
the  folks  thought  I  was  shippin'  a  crew  they'd  be  sure  to 
come  down  here  an'  arrest  us  all." 

Hobby  looked  around  timidly,  as  if  he  expected  to  see  at 
least  a  do/en  ollicers  of  the  law  ready  to  pounce  on  him  at 
nme.  and  he  bitterly  regretted  that  he  had  thus  put  himself 
in  the  power  of  a  regular  pirate.  Hare  and  Charley  did 
not.  appear  to  be  troubled  in  the  least,  and  Bobby  could 
not  account  for  their  unconcern,  unless  it  was  that  the 
pirate  was  so  small. 

"But  why  did  you  tell  us  who  you  are  :"  asked  Char- 
ley, not  understanding  why  these  disclosures  had  been 
made  l<>  them. 

"That's  the  very  thing."  said  Tommy  Tucker,  eagerly. 

"I  waul    to  get    a   crew--I've    got    now,   but    lie  can't 

come  out  after  dark,  an'  so  lie  ain't  much  good— an'  the 
very  minute  I  saw  you  fellers  1  kuoucd  you'd  be  jest  the 
ones  as  would  like  to  turn  pirates." 

It  was  not  much  of  a  compliment  lo  their  personal  ap 
pearance;  but  Master  Tucker  did  not  appear  to  think  lie 
had  said  anything  out  of  the  way,  and  he  hastened  toadd: 

"I  heard  that  Captain  Sammy  bad  told  \ou  that  you 
might  have  the  I'i'iirl  if  you  could  tloat  her.  an'  I've  had 
my  eye  on  you  since,  'cause  she'd  make  the  best  kind  of  a 
boat  for  a  pirate,  an'  if  you'll  join  me  we'll  have  a  boat  an' 
a  crew  all  at  once.  Of  course  ]  .should  be  Captain,  but 
you  fellers  could  be  mates,  an'  Ikev  Join's  -that's  the  oth- 
er feller  could  be  the  crew.  You  see,  the  first  thing  thai 
made  me  want  to  be  a  pirate  was  so  1  could  serve  ( 'aptain 

Sammy  out.     He  thinks  he's  awful  smart,  lie  does,  an'  

day  he  took  off  his  leg  an'  give  me  a  whippin'  'cause  I  was 
tryin'  to  have  a  little  fun  with  his  turtles." 

"Took  off  his  leg!''  repeated  Bobby,  forgetting-  the  lit- 
tle Captain's  infirmity. 

"'His  wooden  one,  you  know;  he  can  take  it  olr'  awful 
quick  when  he  wants  to.  Now  I  jest  want  to  catch  him, 
an1 — an' — well,  I'll  serve  him  out  in  some  way.  Now, 
say,  will  you  join  me.'" 

Aside  from  the  wickedness  of  the  business,  no  one  of  the 
boys  had  any  desire  to  become  pirates,  for  though  it  had 
not  occurred  to  Tommy,  they  wisely  concluded  that  it  was 
not  such  a  business  as  would  flourish  any  length  of  time, 
more  especially  if  Captain  Sammy  should  come  after  them 
with  his  leg  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  Tommy,  we  don't  want  to  turn  pirates,"  said  Dare, 
thinking  the  matter  too  foolish  and  trilling  to  talk  much 
about. 

"You're  reg'lar  cowards,  that's  what's  the  matter  with 
you!"  shouted  Master  Tucker,  angrily,  as  he  retreated  to 
what  he  considered  would  be  a  safe  distance.  "But  you'll 
hear  from  me  again,  an'  then  you'll  be  sorry  you  didn't 
join  me.  Remember  Thomas  Tucker  and  his  vengeance  1" 
Then  the  pirate  with  neither  crew  nor  vessel  disappear- 
ed in  a  stealthy  way,  as  if  the  officers  of  the  law  were  al- 
ready on  his  track. 

And  the  three  boys  did  hear  from  Master  Tucker  again, 
although  at  the  time  they  did  not  think  it  possible  that 
they  should. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE  OLD  DAME'S  PRAYER. 

BY  E.  M.  TR  AQUA  IK. 

AH,  dark  were  the  days  of  winter 

On  the  Pomeranian  strand; 
The  snow  fell   fiist   in   the  wintry  blast, 

And  foes  were  in  the  land. 

It  was  in  a  humble  collage. 

Apart  from  the  village  street, 
An  old  dame  spun  by  Hie  tire  and  sung. 

And  the  words  were  trustful  and  sweet: 

"And  what  though  the  foe  assail  us, 

\\e   need   nut   faint    nor   fear. 
For  God  in  their  need  can  build  with  speed 

A  wall  round   His  people  dear." 

A  step  is  heard   in  (lie  doorway: 

"IV   the   widow's  only  son, 
\Vlio  with  moody  brow  is  entering  now, 

When   his  long  day's  toil   is  dune. 

••.Mother,  the   Cossacks  ar 1  us, 

The  cruel  and  ruthless  foe, 
Wilh  the  beat  of  drum  I  heard  them  come 

Through  the  wind  and  the  driving  snow. 

"Plunder  and  rapine  and  murder 

( lo  \\ilh   them  hand  In  hand. 
The  p-alms  that  you  sing  will   no  succor  bring; 

»iod   ha-   lor-;, ken   the   land." 

"  F>ar  not.  my  son."  said  the  mother, 

"For  God.  who  reignclh   on  high, 
Can   scalier  this  host    like   leaves  in  frost. 

And  save  us   from  danger  nigh. 

"Nor  dread,  although    they   be  coming 
\\iih  drum  and  with  trumpet   sound: 

The    I. old   at    our  need   can    build   with  speed 
A  wall  lo  compass  us  round." 

"  Fond   i-  tin-   fancy,  my  mother; 

For   \\  under,  are  done  no  more. 
Lie  an   hour  i  an   pass  they'll   be  here,  alas! 

To  plunder  our  little  .-lore." 

"Build.  Lord,  a   rampart  around  us; 

Sireich   forlh  Thy   mighty  arm'" 
Was  all   that   she  said,  as  she  knell   and  prayed — 

"Shield.  Lord,  and  save  us  from  harm!"' 

I3y   Hie  blare  of  Ihe  enemy's  trumpets, 

Borne  on  the  wintry   blast, 
By  the  roll  of  the  drum,  she  knew  they  had  come, 

And  the  tramp  of  Iheir  feet   as  they  passed. 

Thick  and   fast    fell   Ihe  snow-Hakes, 

Wild  blew   the  winlry   blast; 
Dark  was  the  night — not   a  star  shed  its  light — 

And  slowly  Ihe  hours  went  past. 

Sounds  wen-  heard   on   the  midnight, 

\Vailings  of  bitter  woe. 
That,  told  in  Iheir  rage  nor  childhood  nor  age 

Were  spared   by  Ihe  pitiless  foe. 

"Build.  Lord,  a  rampart  around  us!" 

Meekly  the  mother  prayed, 
And  the  drifting  snow  on  the  fields  below 

A  wall  round  Ihe  cottage  made. 

Few    were  the  words,  yet  the  angels 
Had  carried  to  heaven  her  prayer, 

And  ere  night    was  done   it    was  clear  to  the  son 
That  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  there. 

Noon  came.     The  sun  at  the  dawning 

Shone,  but   they   -aw  him  not; 
And  no  focman's  eye  through  the  snow-drifts  high 

Had   lit  oil  their  liny  cot. 

Later,  when  winter  was  over. 

The  Cossacks  gone  from  the  land, 
No  Cot    was  seen   like   the  dame's,  I  ween, 

On  the.  Pomeranian  strand. 

For  the  peace  of  God  was  upon  it. 

No   longer   with    moody    brow 
Did  the  widow's  son,  when  his  work  was  done, 

Enter  the  cottage  now. 

He  had  learned  the  faith  of  his  mother; 

He  knew  that   the  Father's  arm 
Could  build  at  their  need  a  wall  with  speed 

To  shelter  His  people  from  harm. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


LEARNING  A  TRADE. 

HOW  BOYS  ARE  EDUCATED  FOR  MACHINISTS. 
A  MONG  our  boy  readers  there  are  perhaps  hundreds 
J\_  who  are  just  now  wondering  wliat  their  life-work  is 
to  be  and  to  which  one  of  the  world's  great  industries  they 
are  o-om°-  to  devote  themselves  as  men.  Some  weel 
there  was  published  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE  an  article  showing 
how  the  way  is  opened  by  one  of  the  great  business  firms 
of  New  York  city  to  a  limited  number  of  boys  who  may 
desire  to  become  silversmiths  and  jewellers.  In  this  arti- 
cle I  propose  to  tell  them  what  another  great  firm  is  doing 
in  the  interest  of  active  and  industrious  lads  whose  tastes 
may  lead  them  to  become  machinists. 

There  is  a  very  cu- 
rious school  in  Grand 
Street,  New  York.    It 
isn't  called  a  school, 
and  nobody  thinks  of 
it  as  such ; 
but  I  call 
it  that,  be- 


THE    TUKNING-LATHE. 

cause,  when  I  went  there  the  other  day,  I  found  t\vo  hun- 
dred and  fifty  boys  studying  with  all  their  might  under  a 
great  many  teachers. 

They  were  not  sitting  at  desks,  they  had  no  books  in 
sight,  and  none  of  them  were  reciting  lessons.  I  do  not 
suppose  they  know  that  they  are  in  a  school  at  all,  or  that 
they  are  studying,  but  for  all  that  I  never  saw  any  set  of 
boys  studying  harder.  They  study  all  over,  witli  eyes  and 
ears  and  hands  and  backs,  as  well  as  with  their  minds,  and 
they  have  all  sorts  of  teachers.  SOUK-  of  the  teachers  are 
men.  but.  some  of  them  are  machines,  and  the  machines  are 
jut  as  good  teachers  in  their  way  as  the  men  are. 

The  school  belongs  to  Messrs.  R.  Hoe  &  Co.,  the  greal 
printing-press  makers,  and  they  call  it  a  factory.  But  it 
is  not  at  all  like  a  common  factory,  where  workmen  can 
go  on  doing  their  work,  as  you  can  say  your  alphabet, 
without  thinking  about  it.  It  is  a  place  where  every 
man  and  boy  must  study  what  he  is  doing,  and  where 
every  piece  of  work  must  be  done  right,  even  to  the  thou- 
sanillh  part  of  a  hair's  thickness.  Let  me  tell  you  how 
this  is. 

In  the  middle  of  one  of  the  large  rooms,  when  I  was 
there,  I  saw  some  of  the  men  and  boys  at  work  around 
one  of  the  wonderful  printing-machines  which  are  built 
in  this  factory.  The  men  were  just  then  finishing  this 
one,  which  is' to  be  sent  to  London  to  print  newspapers 
there,  because  there  ai'e  no  machinists  in  England  who 
can  make  so  perfect  a  printing-press  as  this. 

I  call  it  a  wonderful  machine  because  it  really  does  do 
wonderful  work.  The  paper  to  be  printed  is  not  in  sheets, 
but  in  one  long  strip,  wound  upon  a  great  roller,  like 


thread  upon  a  spool.  This  strip  is  twice  as  wide  as  a 
newspaper  sheet,  and  it  is  the  business  of  the  press  to 
turn  the  great  roll  of  white  paper  into  complete  news- 
papers. The  roll  spins  round  with  lightning  speed;  the 
paper  is  drawn  into  the  machine  at  one  end,  and  two 
streams  of  newspapers,  printed  on  both  sides,  and  folded 
up  ready  for  the  newsboys,  pour  out  at  the  other.  The 
machine  does  it  all— splits  the  sheet,  cuts  it  off  into  news- 
paper lengths,  prints  both  sides,  and  folds  up  the  papers, 
turning  them  out  at  the  rate  of  many  thousands  every 
hour.  They  come  from  the  press  faster  than  one  can 
count. 

Now  it  is  easy  to  see  that  a  machine  like  this,  made  up 
as  it  is  of  thousands  of  parts,  each  exactly  fitting  into  its 
plan-,  and  each  so  arranged  that  it  will  do  its  part  of  the 
work  at  the  right  time  to  the  smallest  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond, must  be  made  perfectly,  or  it  would  not  work  at  all. 
And  a  great  many  different  workmen  in  different  parts  of 
the  factory  have  parts  of  it  to  make.  If  any  one  of  them 
makes  his  part  wrong,  even  by  so  much  as  the  thickness 
of  a  sheet  of  tissue-paper,  the  machine  will  not  do  its  work 
perfectly.  And  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  boys  in  the  fac- 
tory are  there  to  learn  how  to  do  this  kind  of  work  in  this 
perfect  way.  They  must  be  carefully  educated  in  their 
business  before  they  can  be  trusted  as  regular  workmen 
in  such  a  factory ;  and  that  is  why  I  call  the  place  a  school, 
so  far  as  the  boys  are  concerned. 

Now  let  us  see  how  these  boys  are  taught.  They  are 
mostly  the  sons  of  working-men  who  can  not  afford  to 
keep  them  in  school  after  they  get  old  enough  to  work. 
When  they  ask  for  a  place  in  Messrs.  Hoe  &  Co.'s  factory 
to  learn  the  trades  that  are  taught  and  practiced  there, 
they  have  generally  been  at  work  for  two  or  three  years 
as  errand-boys  or  something  of  that  kind. 

Each  boy,  when  he  asks  for  a  place,  has  to  tell,  in  an- 
swer to  questions,  what  his  age  is,  how  far  he  has  gone  in 
his  studies,  where  he  lives,  what  his  father's  business  is, 
and  what  kind  of  work  he  has  done.  The  answers  to  all 
these  questions  are  set  down  in  a  book,  so  that  the  super 
iiiteudent  can  learn  something  about  each  boy  before  see- 
ing him. 

If  the  boy  lives  in  the  country  he  is  told  at  once  that  he 
can  not  have  a  place,  and  that  he  had  better  stay  in  the 
country.  This  is  because  boys  who  come  to  town  to  work, 
and  have  to  live  in  cheap  boarding-houses,  are  almost, 


GRINDING    BITS. 


ways, 


and 


ways   make  bad 


certain  to  fall   into  bad 
workmen. 

Another  thing:  the  superintendent  will  not  take  any 
boy  who  has  not  made  up  his  mind  to  stick  to  his  work. 
lea  ni  it  well,  and  make  it  his  business  for  life.  Boys  of 
any  other  kind  never  become  really  good  workmen,  how- 
ever bright  and  quick  they  may  be. 


MAK'-II    13,  1883. 


IIARI'KR'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


293 


When  a  liny  is  taken  into  the 
school  tli:it  i- to  say.  when  he  gels 
:i  place  ,-is  all  apprentice  in  the  fac- 
lory --lie  is  set  to  work  at  onre. 
The  first  work  given  him  to  <lo  is 
lianl  and  uninteresting,  and  lie 
must  keep  at  that  until  he  can  do  it 
as  well  as  the  oldest  workman  he- 
fore  ho  is  allowed  to  take  a  step  in 
advance.  This  is  the  rule  of  the 
shop.  Each  step  must  he  taken  in 
its  turn,  and  no  hoy  is  allowed  to 
pass  out  of  any  department  until 
he  is  a  master  of  the  work  done  in 
that  department. 

\Vork  begins  at  seven  o'clock 
ever\  morning,  and  at  that,  hour 
every  hoy  must  he  in  his  place,  in 

his  working  clothes,  ready  to  begin. 

To  do  that  they  must  take  their 
hreakfasts  at  six  o'clock.  \vinterand 
summer.  The\  \\ork  from  sc\en 
o'clock  in  the  morninir  until  six 
o'clock  iii  the  evening,  except  dur- 

i  IIL''  "lie  hour.  \\  Inch  is  allou  eel  for 
dinner. 

hill  -A  hen  work  si o] is  at  niyht  the 
ho\  s  are  not  \  el  Tree  to  yo  home. 
They  still  have  their  lessons  to 
learn,  .jusl  as  other  school-ho\s 
have,  but  the  lessons  these  hoys 
have  to  yet  arc  not  to  he  learned  at 
home;  they  are  to  he  studied  in 

school,  under  the  eyes  of  the  teach- 
ers. 1  have  called  the  whole-  fac- 
tor\  a  se-heiol  I'm-  the  hoys,  hecaiise 
they  are  being  educated  there  for 
I  heir  life-work:  but  in  (he  evening 
they  attend  a  regular  school,  which 

the  owners  of  the  factory  keep  up 
at  I  heir  ou  n  expense  for  the  hene- 
lil  of  their  hoys. 

This  school  opens  at  half  past 
six  and  closes  at  eight  o'clock,  and 
all  the  hoys  must  attend  it.  whether 

they  wish  to  do  so  or  not.  But  as  there  would  not  be 
time  enough  between  the  stopping  of  work  and  the  begin- 
ning of  school  for  the  boys  to  go  home  and  yet  their  sup- 
pers. Messrs.  Hoe  ct  Co.  give  them  a  plain  supper  at  an  eat- 
ing-house near  the  factory.  When  work  slops,  the  boys 
wash  themselves  and  go  to  supper.  By  the  time  they 
have  eaten,  the  half  hour  is  over,  and  they  go  into  school. 

In  the  school  they  are  taught  arithmetic  and  mechan- 
ical drawing  very  thoroughly,  because  these  things  will 
be  of  great  use  to  them  as  machinists,  making  them  much 
better  workmen  than  they  could  be  without  that  kind  of 
knowledge.  All  the  parts  of  a  piece  of  machinery  must 
be  drawn  on  paper,  and  drawn  very  correctly  too,  before 
the  machine  is  built,  and  some  of  these  boys — those  that 
are  best  at  the  work  of  drawing — will  spend  their  lives  in 
the  drawing-room  of  the  factory,  making  designs  for  the 
others  to  work  by;  and  the  others  must  learn  to  draw  too, 
so  1 1  iat  they  may  know  how  to  work  by  the  drawings.  The 
boys  are  also  taught  something  of  geography,  history,  etc., 
but  arithmetic  and  drawing  are  the  main  things. 

Once  a  month  the  foreman  of  each  room  in  the  factory 
makes  a  report  about  all  the  boys  under  him,  telling  how 
each  one  gets  on  in  learning  his  work,  and  how  he  be- 
haves. There  are  a  few  of  the  boys  who  soon  show  that 
they  have  special  ability,  and  they  are  selected  to  be  push- 
ed forward.  They  are  set  to  work  under  those  of  the 
men  who  are  the  best  teachers,  and  their  chances  are  good 
to  become  foremen  of  departments  after  a  while.  Wheth- 


TIIE    BLACKSMITHS'   SIIOP-THE    TRIP-HAMMER. 


er  a  boy  is  quick  or  slow  to  learn,  he  must  remain  an  ap- 
prentice for  at  least  live  years. 

I  saw  one  splendid-looking  fellow  at  work  by  himself, 
managing  a  piece  of  machinery.  "That  is  a  very  delicate 
piece  of  work,"  said  the  superintendent,  "but  that  is  one 
of  our  brightest  lads,  and  \\e  can  trust  him  with  it." 

In  another  room  a  boy  was  working  over  a  machine. 
"That  boy, "said  the  superintendent,  "has  not  been  here 
very  long,  but  he  applies  himself  closely,  and  gets  on.  He 
has  just  been  picked  out  to  run  that  machine,  and  he  is 
learning  something-  from  it,  too." 

In  the  drawing-room  I  saw  two  lads  hard  at  work  over 
designs.  "Those  boys,"  said  the  superintendent,  "have 
just  made  a  step  upward.  We  needed  more  draughtsmen 
here,  and  on  looking  over  their  work  in  the  school  I 
found  that  they  were  fit  for  the  place,  and  put  them  in  it." 

It  is  a  very  common  mistake  on  the  part  of  boys  to  think 
that  only  lawyers,  doctors,  ministers,  and  other  profession- 
al men  are  educated.  The  two  hundred  and  fifty  boys 
in  this  factory  go  through  a  five  years'  course  of  study  in 
order  to  become  fully  prepared  for  their  business  as  mould- 
ers, machinists,  etc.  The  number  of  hours  spent  each  day 
in  the  factory  is  such  that  one  year's  study  there  is  equal 
in  time  to  more  than  three  years  in  the  ordinary  school, 
and  as  the  course  of  study  in  the  factory  lasts  five  years, 
it  is  equal  to  more  than  fifteen  years  of  school.  It  must 
be  a  pretty  thorough  education  that  these  boys  get  in  order 
to  fit  themselves  for  life. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


WHY  TED  BURNED  THE  KITCHEN. 

liY  GEORGE  CARY  EGGLESTON. 
I. 

THE  baby  always  had  been  Ted's  pet.  Ted  was  about 
eight  years  older  than  the  baby,  and  so  he  made  it 
his  business  from  the  first  to  do  all  he  could  to  make  this 
little  sister  happy.  He  would  sit  for  hours  amusing  the 
baby  or  rocking  her  cradle  without  a  sign  of  worry,  and 
he  would  carry  her  about,  too,  even  after  she  grew  heavy, 
to  show  her  the  pigs  and  chickens,  until  his  sturdy  short 
legs  could  stand  the  burden  no  longer.  In  short,  he  was 
the  best  brother  that  a  little  baby  girl  ever  had,  and  by  the 
time  that  she  could  walk  and  talk  a  little,  Miss  Baby  had 
learned  to  think  he  was  her  own  private  property.  She 
wanted  Ted  to  lead  her,  Ted  to  talk  to  her,  Ted  to  show 
her  whatever  there  was  to  see,  Ted  to  sit  by  her  cradle 
until  she  went  to  sleep,  Ted  to  do  everything  for  her. 
And  Ted  liked  it  all,  because  he  loved  the  baby  better  than 
anybody  else  in  the  world. 

But  this  is  not  telling  my  story.  The  way  of  it  was 
this:  Ted's  father,  who  lived  in  central  Indiana,  used  to 
go  to  Cincinnati  every  year,  driving  a  big  drove  of  hogs  to 
sell  there,  and  he  took  with  him  all  the  men  and  big  boys 
he  could  hire  to  help  him  drive  the  hogs,  for  the  trip 
was  a  long  one,  and  there  were  no  railroads  in  that  part 
of  the  country  in  those  days. 

It  was  at  a  time  like  this  that  Ted's  mother  was  sent  for 
to  see  her  sister,  who  was  very  sick.  This  sister  lived  a 
good  many  miles  away,  and  the  weather  was  cold  and 
stormy.  Ted's  mother  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She 
could  not  take  the  baby  with  her  in  such  weather,  and 
there  was  nobody  to  leave  with  her  and  little  nine-year- 
old  Ted. 

"  I'll  tell  you,  mother,''  said  Ted:  "  you  just  go  along, 
and  I'll  take  care  of  the  baby  till  you  come  back." 

"But  it  is  a  long  way,  Ted,  "said  the  mother,  "and  I  may 
not  be  back  till  very  late." 

"Well,  what  of  that?"  asked  the  stout-hearted  little 
fellow.  "  You  don't  s'pose  I'm  afraid,  do  you  ?  If  you're 
gone  till  midnight  I  don't  care.  Just  leave  the  baby  with 
me  and  go  along.  If  you  don't  get  back  by  bed-time,  I'll 
go  to  bed,  and  you  can  bang  on  the  door  to  wake  me." 

The  good  mother  hardly  knew  what  to  do.  She  did  not 
like  to  put  such  a  load  of  care  upon  the  little  fellow,  but 
the  case  was  pressing,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  other 
way.  So  after  looking  to  see  that  there  was  food  enough 
cooked  for  Ted's  dinner  and  supper,  she  mounted  her  horse 
and  rode  away. 

Ted  held  the  baby  up  to  the  window  and  made  her  kiss 
her  hand  to  their  mother  as  she  looked  back  from  the  top  of 
the  hill.  Then  he  set  to  work  to  "  make  a  day  of  it"  with 
Baby.  He  played  horse  and  let  the  baby  ride  on  his  back ; 
he  showed  her  all  the  pictures  in  the  big  Bible;  he  made 
a  house  out  of  the  chairs  and  tables,  and  did  a  hundred 
other  things  to  make  the  day  pleasant  for  his  little  sister, 
and  she  laughed  at  his  funny  pranks  until  she  could  laugh 
no  longer.  Then  he  gave  her  some  bread  and  milk,  and, 
taking  her  in  his  arms,  sat  down  in  the  rocking-chair  and 
sang  her  to  sleep.  Ted  couldn't  sing,  as  a  matter  of  fact; 
he  could  only  shout  the  words  without  getting  within  a 
mile  of  any  tune,  but  Baby  thought  his  singing  the  very 
best  she  had  ever  heard,  and  so  it  answered  every  pur- 
pose. 

Before  the  baby  waked  it  had  begun  to  snow,  and  so  Ted 
had  a  new  thing  to  show  her.  The  snow  was  beautiful  to 
look  at,  as  it  fell  very  fast,  and  the  little  girl  was  full  of 
the  fun  of  watching  it  through  the  window.  So  the  day 
passed  and  night  came  on.  It  was  still  snowing  hard,  and 
a  fierce  wind  had  begun  to  blow.  After  Ted  had  put  the 
baby  to  bed,  and  piled  a  lot  of  wood  on  the  fire,  he  sat 
down  in  the  big  rocking-chair  to  wait  for  his  mother,  who 
had  not  yet  come.  The  wind  was  blowing  like  a  hurricane, 


and  it  made  him  restless  and  uneasy.  He  was  not  afraid, 
for  he  was  a  very  plucky  little  fellow,  but  as  he  listened 
to  the  wind  howling  through  the  tree-tops  and  moaning 
around  the  house,  and  heard  the  windows  rattle,  he 
thought  of  his  mother,  who  must  be  somewhere  out  in  that 
terrible  storm,  and  he  was  uneasy  about  her.  Still,  he 
had  no  fear  for  her  safety,  as  he  knew  that  she  was  used 
to  getting  over  troubles,  and  so  at  last  he  went  to  bed  and 
to  sleep. 

II. 

When  Ted  waked  he  was  puzzled.  It  was  dark  still, 
but  somehow  it  did  not  seem  to  be  night.  He  could  hear 
the  wind  blowing,  but  it  sounded  a  long  way  off,  or  as  it 
might  have  sounded  to  him  if  his  head  had  been  wrapped 
up  in  a  blanket.  There  was  no  more  of  its  moaning 
around  the  house. 

He  jumped  out  of  bed  with  a  queer  feeling,  as  if  some- 
thing strange  had  happened.  He  stirred  up  the  fire,  and 
threw  on  some  wood,  which  made  a  blaze.  Then  lie  look- 
ed at  the  clock. 

"Half  past  eight!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Why,  how  is 
that  ?  I  went  to  bed  at  ten,  so  it  can't  be  half  past  eight 
at  night.  But  it  isn't  half  past  eight  in  the  morning,  for 
it's  dark.  I  wonder  if  I've  slept  all  night  and  all  day  ?" 

With  this  he  opened  the  back  door  to  get  some  wood 
from  the  pile.  But  instead  of  going  out,  he  started  back 
in  surprise.  The  doorway  was  blocked  up  with  a  wall  of 
snow.  He  ran  quickly  to  the  front  door  and  opened  it. 
The  wall  of  snow  was  there  too,  and  all  the  windows  were 
blocked  up  in  the  same  way.  Ted  understood  now.  It 
was  half  past  eight  in  the  morning,  but  the  house  was 
completely  buried  in  a  snow-drift.  He  and  the  baby  were 
snowed  in  alone. 

I  have  said  that  Ted  was  a  plucky  little  fellow,  and  so 
he  was ;  but  this  was  a  terrible  state  of  affairs,  and  for  a 
few  minutes  he  was  scared.  Snowed  in,  with  the  baby 
to  take  care  of,  and  without  any  chance  of  help  coming  to 
him,  he  might  well  feel  alarmed.  His  mother  had  not 
got  home,  and  he  could  not  guess  what  had  become  of  her. 
The  very  nearest  neighbor  lived  five  miles  away,  and 
there  was  no  knowing  how  long  it  would  be  before  any- 
body would  find  out  what  had  happened. 

But  Ted  soon  saw  that  getting  scared  would  only  make 
matters  worse. 

"I  can't  help  mother,"  he  said  to  himself,  "wherever 
she  may  be;  and  what  I've  got  to  do  is  to  take  care  of 
Baby  till  the  snow  melts.  Wonder  how  long  that  will 
be  ?  Two  or  three  weeks,  I  should  think.  And  what  are 
we  to  eat,  I  wonder  ?  Let's  see." 

With  that  he  lighted  a  candle  and  went  to  the  cellar. 
There  was  only  a  little  milk  left— about  enough  for  Baby's 
breakfast,  and  Ted  brought  that  up  and  set  it  to  heat  by 
the  fire.  The  baby  was  awake  now,  and  so  he  dressed 
her  and  gave  her  her  bread  and  milk.  Then  he  cut  some 
bacon  and  fried  it  for  himself,  but  he  would  not  eat  any 
bread,  because  he  knew  there  was  only  part  of  a  loaf  left, 
and  he  must  save  that  for  Baby. 

After  breakfast  he  began  to  lay  his  plans.  At  first  he 
thought  of  digging  out,  but  he  gave  that  up,  because,  even 
if  he  should  get  out,  he  could  not  carry  the  baby  five 
miles  in  such  a  snow.  He  knew  enough  to  be  sure  that 
the  snow  was  not  so  deep  everywhere  as  it  was  around  the 
house.  He  remembered  how  the  wind  had  blown,  and 
knew  that  the  house  was  buried  in  a  drift;  but  he  knew 
that  there  must  have  been  a  very  deep  snow-fall  to  make 
such  a  drift,  and  it  would  never  do  for  him  to  try  to  carry 
the  baby  through  a  deep  snow  to  a  house  five  miles  avvay. 
He  must  just  stay  where  he  was,  and  take  care  of  the  baby. 

The  first  thing  to  do  was  to  see  how  much  wood  there 
was  at  the  house.  So  he  dug  a  hole  in  the  snow  at  the  side 
of  the  door,  and  brought  in  all  there  was  there,  except  one 
big  back  log  which  was  too  heavy  for  him.  As  he  looked 
at  the  pile  he  saw  that  it  would  last  till  night,  and  by  that. 


MARCH  13.  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


295 


time  he  meant  to  get  the  back  log-  in  by  some  means.  He 
was  worse  troubled  about  milk  for  the  baby.  There  was 
none  left  now.  and  lie  wondered  if  he  could  get  to  the 
cow-shed  in  any  way.  It  was  a  long  way  olF,  but  he  must 
have  milk  if  lie  could  get  it,  and  he  must  try  to  feed  the 
cows  too,  for  if  nobody  fed  them  they  would  have  to  live 
on  tlr- hay  which  stood  in  a  stack  at  the  end  of  their  shed. 

Bravely  the  little  fellow  set  to  work  to  make  a  tunnel 
to  the  cow-house,  but  it  was  very  slow  work.  He  began 
at  tlia  door  of  the  summer  kitchen,  and  threw  the  snou, 
as  he  dug  it  out,  into  that  shed.  The  further  he  went,  the 

i -e  slowly  he  got  on.  for  he  had  to  bring  all  the  snow 

back  to  the  shed  kitchen  and  pack  it  in  there.  He  kept 
at  work,  however,  until  he  was  tired  out  and  verv  hun- 
gry.and  yet  he  had  hardly  made  a  fair  beginning.  He 
saw  that  he  must  give  up  the  idea  of  digging  his  way  to  the 
cow  shed,  and  get  on  in  some  way  without  milk.  He  was 
very  sorry  oil  Baby's  account,  hut  there  was  no  help  for 
it.  so  he  set  about  getting  dinner. 

There  was  no  difficulty  about  his  own  dinner,  for  there 
was  plenty  of  bacon  to  fry.  and  he'  could  roast  as  many 
potatoes  as  he  liked.  Hut  the  baby's  dinner  was  the  pu/. 
/|e  She  would  eat  a  little  roasted  potato  with  him.  but  a 
baby  only  a  year  and  a  half  old  could  not  live  on  potatoes. 
She  always  ate  more  bread  and  milk  than  anything  else. 
but  milk  was  out  of  the  quest  ion.  and  bread  and  water 
would  hardly  do. 

"  Wonder  if  I  could  make  hera  pudding !" said  Ted,  aft- 
er thinking  the  matter  over.  "  Mother  puts  t-gys  in  pud- 
dings, I  know,  and  there  are  two  eggs  in  the  cupboard.  I 
wonder  what  else  she  puts  in  '.  Milk  .'  Yes.  and  1  haven't 

any  milk.     Maybe  it 'II  do  without  milk.      Lei's  see." 

And  with  that  he  carefully  planned  a  pudding.  He 
tried  to  remember  what  his  mother  did  when  she  made  a 
dish  of  the  kind,  but  he  could  not  remember  much.  He 
believed  she  beat  the  ege>,  so  he  would  do  that  at  any  rate. 
Taking  one  of  the  eggs,  he  broke  it  and  beat  it  with  a 
spoon,  but  as  he  did  not  keep  the  yolk  and  the  white  sep 

arate,  the  beating  did  not  make  it  look  quite  right. 

"It'll  have  to  do  any  how,  "he  saic  I.  after  wondering  \\  hat 
was  the  matter,  and  so  he  set  down  the  bowl  of  egg  and 
prepared  the  rest  of  his  pudding.  Breaking  up  what 
bread  there  was  left,  he  wetted  it  with  snow-water,  put  in 
a  good  deal  of  sugar,  and  set  the  mixture  by  the  fire  to 
heat.  When  it  was  hot  through  he  stirred  in  the  egg, 
and  then  tasted  the  result.  It  was  not  much  of  a  pudding, 
but  he  had  talked  to  Baby  about  it  t !  1 1  sh  e  was  sure  it  was  the 
greatest  pudding  anybody  ever  made.  and.  as  it  was  sweet, 
she  ate  it  without  finding  out  that  it  was  not  a  real  tri- 
umph of  cooking  skill. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Ted  set  to  work  to  get  the  big 
back  log  into  the  house,  and  this  was  a  new  frolic  for 
Baby  to  watch.  The  log  was  very  heavy,  but  his  mind 
was  made  up.  He  dug  the  snow  away  from  the  log,  and 
then  tried  to  swing  the  end  around ;  but  the  wood  was 
frozen  to  the  ground,  and  would  not  move.  He  brought 
out  the  big  tongs  for  a  lever,  and  after  bending  them 
nearly  double  in  trying  to  start  the  log,  he  succeeded. 
The  log  gave  way  suddenly,  Ted  fell  over  it,  and  a  great 
mass  of  snow  fell  upon  him,  completely  burying  him. 
He  scrambled  out  in  a  moment,  and  shook  the  snow  off, 
making  Baby  laugh  at  what  she  thought  was  one  of  Ted's 
jokes.  The  log  was  now  loose,  but  it  took  Ted  a  long 
time,  with  very  hard  work,  to  get  it  over  the  door-sill  and 
into  the  house.  By  the  time  that  he  got  it  into  its  place  in 
the  back  of  the  great  chimney  he  was  quite  tired  out ;  but 
he  knew  he  must  have  some  wood  to  go  with  it,  else  the 
log  would  never  burn  at  all,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
what  he  would  do  for  wood.  The  tunnel  that  he  had  be- 
gun to  dig  toward  the  cow-house  would  lead  past  the 
big  wood-pile,  where  there  was  plenty  of  wood,  and  Ted 
meant  to  go  011  with  his  digging  the  next  day,  so  as  to 
get  to  that  wood-pile  at  least.  But  for  to-night  he  was 


going  to  burn  the  summer  kitchen;  that  is  to  say,  he  was 
going  to  burn  all  the  planks  and  timbers  of  the  summer 
kitchen  that  he  could  knock  loose  with  the  axe. 

"It's  only  an  old  shed,"  he  said  to  himself,  "and  if  it 
was  the  finest  parlor  in  the  world,  I'd  burn  it  up  before 
Baby  should  be  cold.  And  if  mother  don't  come,  and  I 
don't  get  to  the  wood-pile,  I'll  burn  the  chairs  and  tables 
and  bedsteads,  and  all  the  floors  in  the  house.  I  won't  do 
that  if  I  can  help  it ;  but  one  thing's  sure,  and  that  is  that 
Baby's  got  to  be  kept  warm." 

So  he  took  the  axe  and  knocked  the  summer  kitchen  to 
pieces,  and  piled  the  wood  in  the  house  ready  for  use. 
For  the  baby's  supper  he  boiled  the  egg  that  was  left,  and 
after  putting  her  to  bed  he  was  glad  to  go  to  bed  himself. 

Morn  i  111;-  came  again,  but  still  no  word  or  sign  from  the 
absent  mother.  Ted  was  very  uneasy  about  her,  but  it 
was  of  no  use  to  worry,  and  he  had  the  baby  to  care  for. 
The  e^-s  were  gone  now,  and  so  for  Baby's  breakfast  he 
made  a  sort  of  gruel  of  corn  meal.  and.  to  help  out,  he  gave 
her  what  was  left  of  the  bread,  first  wetting  and  sweetening 
it  and  making  it  hot. 

But  now  he  was  growing  very  uneasy.  The  bread  was 
all  eaten  up.  though  Ted  bad  not  touched  a  crumb  of  it 
himself,  and  he  did  not  know  what  to  give  Baby  to  eat  for 
dinner  and  supper  except  gruel.  Hi;  tried  to  make  soup 
out  of  bacon,  but  it  was  only  greasy  salt  water,  and  he 
could  not  give  her  that.  Then  he  remembered  that  the 
hen-house  was  near  the  wood-pile,  so  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  keep  on  working  at  his  tunnel  until  he  should  get  to  the 
hen  house,  no  matter  how  tired  he  should  be.  But  first  he 
mixed  up  some  corn-bread  and  set  if  to  bake.  By  the 
time  that  was  baked  he  had  got  as  far  as  the  wood-pile 
with  the  tunnel,  and  this  was  lucky,  for  the  wood  from 
the  old  shed  was  nearly  all  burned  up. 

After  carrying  in  wood  and  building  up  a  big  fire  he 
went  back  to  his  digging,  leaving  the  baby  tied  in  a  lit- 
tle chair  so  that  she  might  not  get  to  the  fire.  In  order 
to  keep  her  from  crying,  he  made  it  a  rule  to  run  in  ev- 
ery few1  minutes  and  make  a  funny  face  or  do  some  queer 
prank  to  make  her  laugh.  His  legs  and  arms  ached  with 
the  hard  work,  but  he  was  getting  on,  and  ho  must  have  a 
chicken  before  he  quit  digging.  At  last  he  reached  the 
hen-house,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Master  Ted  sat  in  the 
house  showing  Baby  ' '  how  to  pick  a  chicken. "  Baby  was 
very  hungry,  and  a  little  cross  on  that  account,  but  Ted 
kept  up  his  jokes,  and  managed  to  amuse  her.  She  stood 
by  while  he  cut  up  a  part  of  the  chicken,  and  watched  him 
put  it  on  to  boil. 

Ted  didn't  know  much  about  cooking,  but  he  made  a 
pretty  good  broth  that  night.  He  thickened  it  with  flout- 
as  he  had  seen  his  mother  do,  and  was  about  to  put  pepper 
Into  it,  when  he  remembered  that  pepper  would  spoil  it  for 
the  baby.  At  last  it  was  ready,  and  the  two  sat  down  to 
their  supper.  The  corn-bread  was  not  very  good,  because 
Ted  had  forgotten  to  put  any  salt  in  it,  but  it  did  very  well 
to  crumble  into  Baby's  soup,  and  she  ate  very  heartily,  and 
then  fell  asleep  in  Ted's  lap. 

That  night  Ted  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  thinking 
about  his  mother.  He  was  sure  something  must  have 
happened  to  her,  or  she  would  not  have  left  him  and  Baby 
so  long.  At  last  he  fell  asleep,  and  long  after  the  fire  had 
died  down  to  a  dull  red  he  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a 
noisy  banging  on  the  door,  and  loud  voices  calling  him. 

III. 

Now  let's  see  what  happened  to  Ted's  mother.  When 
she  rode  away  to  visit  her  sick  sister  she  hoped  to  get 
home  again  before  dark,  though  the  distance  she  had  to 
travel  was  very  long.  By  the  time  she  had  done  what 
was  needed  at  her  sister's  the  snow  had  begun  to  fall,  and 
so  she  hurried  away  on  her  homeward  ride.  But  the 
wind  blew  in  her  face,  and  the  snow-drifts  were  so  deep 
that  she  had  to  travel  very  slowly.  Night  came  on,  and 


296 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  storm  grew  worse.  In  a  little  while  she  could  not 
tell  where  the  road  was,  but  still  she  kept  on.  She  was 
frightened  about  her  children,  and  in  her  anxiety  she 
grew  nervous  and  confused.  She  had  lost  the  road,  and 
was  plunging  about  helplessly  in  snow-drifts,  not  know- 
ing where  she  was  or  in  what  direction  she  was  going.  At 
last  her  horse  became  worn  out,  and  fell  as  he  was  trying 
to  struggle  over  some  fallen  trees  covered  with  snow.  The 
poor  animal  was  unable  to  rise  again,  and  the  half-frozen, 
half-dead  woman  went  on  on  foot,  toiling  through  the 
tri-eat  snow-banks,  and  staggering  with  giddiness  from  cold 
and  fnght  and  weariness.  Hour  after  hour  she  kept  on, 
going  all  the  time  further  away  from  home;  for  she  had 
cut  irely  lost  her  bearings.  It  was  morning  before  the  poor 
woma.li  gave  up.  Then  she  sank  down  in  the  snow,  and 
knew  no  more. 

A  farmer  passing  by  that  way  in  the  early  morning  to 
look  after  his  cattle  saw  her  dress,  from  which  the  wind 
had  blown  away  the  snow,  and  he  quickly  dug  her  out 
and  carried  her  to  his  house.  She  had  wandered  twenty 
i>.iles  away  from  her  own  home,  and  so  neither  the 
farmer  nor  any  member  of  his  family  knew  who  she  was. 
But  they  did  what  they  could  for  her,  and  got  her  to  bed 


as  soon  as  they  had  rubbed 
her  to  a  life-like  warmth 
again. 

All  that  day  and  night  she 
was  out  of  her  head  and  lay 
in  bed  talking  of  her  children 
and  moaning.  On  the  next 
day  she  came  to  herself,  and 
as  soon  as  she  found  out 
where  she  was,  and  how  long 
she  had  been  away  from 
home,  she  told  the  good  peo- 
ple about  Ted  and  Baby  being 
all  alone  in  the  house.  It 
was  a  bad  time  to  travel,  but 
the  farmer  with  two  other 
men  set  out  at  once  to  save 
the  little  ones,  and  in  spite 
of  her  weak  state  Ted's  mo- 
ther went  too  in  the  farmer's 
wagon.  As  they  neared  the 
house,  after  dark  that  night, 
they  found  it  buried  in  the 
snow-drift;  but  the  farmer 
had  brought  shovels  with  him 
for  use  if  the  road  should  be 
blocked  anywhere,  and  with 
these  he  and  his  men  began 
to  dig.  It  was  midnight  lie- 
fore  they  cleared  a  passage  to 
the  front  door,  and  then  they 
shouted  and  banged  upon  the 
door  until  Ted  awoke. 


There  was  no  more  sleep 
for  Ted  or  his  mother  that, 
night.  A  great  roaring  fire 
was  built  up,  hot  coffee  was 
made  and  drunk,  and  Ted 
had  to  tell  his  story  over  and 
over  again  in  answer  to  his 
mother's  questions. 

"I  burned  up  the  summer 
kitchen,  mother,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  ruined  the  big  tongs, 
and  I  s'pose  I've  made  an 
awful  mess  in  the  house;  but 
I  told  you  I'd  take  care  of  the 
baby,  and  I've  done  it." 

"Never  mind  about  the  kitchen,  or  the  tongs,  or  the 
mess,  my  brave  boy,"  answered  the  mother,  as  she  drew 
him  to  her  side  and  kissed  him.  "  You  and  the  baby  are 
safe,  and  that's  enough." 


ANOTHER  VISIT  TO  THE  SHOW. 

EDWARD  I.  STEVENSON. 

T  was  the  writer's  second  visit  to  the 
Winter-Quarters  of   Mr.  Barnum's 
mighty  Show,  at  Bridgeport.  While 
he   stood    chatting  with   a   young 
man  whose  special  duty  it  is  to  in- 
struct new  and  uneducated  horses 
in  the  way  wherein  they  ought 
to  run,  Mr.  Johnson,  the  super- 
intendent  of   the    menagerie   in 
the  next  room,  approached. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  in  here 
and  see  a  new  turn-out  of  mine," 
he  said,  smiling.      "I  fancy  you 
never  saw  one  like  it  before." 
No  wonder  that  curiosity  was 


is,  isss. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


29T 


<       *- 


-i"  v"  •>*' 

. '/'•$ ...  , 

^«_ 

^:M,I>?#  . 


.,  -1       v 

- 


lj  TjE  «|pfopOfl|«uS 


SKETCHES    AT    THE    WIN'TER-QrARTERS    OF   MR.  BAHXTM'S    OBEAT    SHOW. 


298 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


excited  at  such  a  speech  as  this.  I  declared  myself  quite 
ready  to  go  anywhere.  Mr.  Johnson  led  the  way  into  an 
adjoining  building. 

At  first  sight  it  was  hard  to  tell  what  in  the  world  was 
causing1  the  pretty  light  carriage,  in  which  three  bright- 
eyed  young  people  sat,  to  move  at  the  rate  it  did.  Paul, 
Clara,  and  Jenny,  the  driver  of  the  establishment,  had 
their  backs  to  the  door  when  it  was  opened,  and  it  was 
not  until  a  second  or  two  that  the  long  pink  neck  of  an 
ostrich,  surmounted  by  his  wise  head,  became  visible. 
Presently,  as  the  equipage  passed  further  around  the  cir- 
cle, the  fluffy  body,  legs  like  walking-sticks,  and  harness 
of  this  strange  horse  were  fully  displayed.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  laughing  among  the  three  or  four  older  folks 
looking  on,  and  the  children  in  the  carriage,  whose  fathers 
belonged  to  the  Great  Show,  joined  in  the  merriment  from 
their  moving  seat. 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Johnson,  "I  did  not  teach  this  great 
creature  to  play  horse.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  have  the  job, 
for  I  think  he  was  very  likely  a  kicking  and  plunging  cus- 
tomer to  tackle.  Did  you  know  that  one  good  blow  from 
his  foot  will  break  a  man's  leg  without  further  trouble  ? 
Our  solemn  friend  with  the  pink  neck  is  from  the  great 
Hippodrome  at  Paris,  and  he  came  to  Mr.  Barnum  already 
educated.  He  is  much  more  gentle  now  than  during  his 
first  mouths  in  this  country,  and  is  very  fond  of  being 
fed  by  the  children  about  the  Quarters.  You  will  notice 
that  he  is  not  driven  with  a  bit,  but  simply  with  a  head- 
band, and  you  can  see  for  yourself  how  obedient  he  is  to 
the  rein." 

"Do  your  ostriches  ever  eat  the  curious  things  that 
others  of  their  race  are  said  to  ?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  sometimes  do,"  replied 
the  Superintendent  of  the  Menagerie;  "I  know  it  to  my 
cost.  Only  a  few  weeks  ago  a  large  and  valuable  ostrich 
found  and  swallowed  a  piece  of  pine  board  several  inches 
in  length.  It  was  too  much  for  him,  poor  fellow!  he 
died." 

The  ordinary  food  given  to  these  birds  in  captivity  is 
bread  and  certain  vegetables  chopped  into  small  pieces  and 
mixed  together.  A  dishful  of  it  was  to  be  seen  inside  the 
rude  pen  in  which  they  were  confined,  and  they  apparent- 
ly had  leave  to  help  themselves  pain  a  discretion,  as  they 
used  to  say  in  French  restaurants.  Speaking  of  an  os- 
trich's diet  reminds  one  of  a  very  little  girl  who  told  her 
brother  that  when  she  ate  ice-cream  she  wished  she  had 
an  ostrich's  neck,  so  that  she  "could  taste  it  all  the  way 
down." 

Any  grief  that  may  have  been  felt  at  the  sad  story  of 
the  greedy  ostrich  was  forgotten  when  Mr.  Johnson  said, 
cheerfully :  "  And  now,  since  you  have  seen  one  of  these 
queer  turn-outs  of  mine,  you  may  as  well  see  two  others. 
Here  they  both  come." 

Every  one  present  looked  up  toward  the  folding-doors, 
which  at  this  instant  were  opened  mysteriously  from 
behind. 

"Giraffes,  as  true  as  I  live!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  par- 
ty. And  giraffes  they  surely  were,  which  advanced  slowly  I 
into  the  ring,  drawing  after  them  a  gorgeous  little  char- 
iot, paintcu  and  burnished  to  resemble  a  peacock's  brill- 
iant plumage.  It  was  guided  by  a  little  girl  coachman. 
The  graceful,  stately  creatures  seemed  thoroughly  at  home 
in  their  duty  as  they  paraded  along. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  carried  themselves  and  their 
chariot  well  past  the  party  of  spectators  that  there  appear- 
ed behind  them  a  fresh  wonder.  Mr.  Johnson  could 
scarcely  call  the  third  "turn-out,"  which  then  appeared, 
his  own.  For  upon  the  box  of  a  fashionable  kind  of 
buckboard,  made  of  precisely  the  right  size,  sat  one  of  Mr. 
Fryer's  dogs — little  Major,  of  whom  our  readers  heard 
something  a  week  ago.  Major  held  in  his  mouth  the 
lines  by  which  he  guided  Nelly,  one  of  the  canine  house-  ' 
hold;  and  other  members  of  the  family,  Cronian,  Sprite,  | 


Jerry,  had  turned  themselves. into  the  gentlefolk  out  for 
an  airing,  while  Frank  acted  as  footman. 

"The  giraffes  also  were  taught  by  our  French  friends," 
said  Mr.  Johnson.  "They  came  to  us  perfectly  trained, 
and  have  behaved  themselves  beautifully  when  in  the  ring 
ever  since." 

"Is  a  giraffe  a  difficult  animal  to  break  to  harness?" 
inquired  somebody. 

"  Not  especially,"  replied  the  Superintendent.  "  He  is 
extremely  shy,  but  not  vicious  at  all,  and  he  develops  a 
real  affection  for  his  teacher  and  keeper.  Did  you  ever 
notice  a  giraffe's  eyes?  If  you  talk  of  the  beauty  and 
gentle  expression  of  the  eyes  of  a  gazelle,  you  have  never 
looked  at  those  of  his  hundredth  cousin." 

And  truly  when,  a  few  moments  later,  the  party  had  a 
chance  to  examine  those  deep  black  orbs,  fringed  by  such 
thick  dark  eyelashes,  all  agreed  that  there  could  be  no 
more  lovely  eyes  in  the  world.  The  next  time  that  the 
Great  Show  is  in  their  neighborhood  our  readers  can  make 
up  their  minds  as  to  this  fact  for  themselves. 

As  Mr.  Johnson's  "turn-outs"  turned  in  and  disappear- 
ed, the  quartette  of  sight-seers  left  the  building,  and  passed 
into  the  menagerie  again.  There  was  the  usual  screech- 
ing of  cockatoos  going  on,  and  now  and  then  an  unplea- 
sant howl  from  the  panther's  cage. 

It  was  now  nearly  noon,  and  the  greater  part  of  the 
animals  were  taking  naps.  The  black-maned  lion  lay 
cuddled  against  his  savage  mate  fairly  snoring — just  im- 
agine a  lion  snoring!  Of  the  four  royal  Bengal  tigers 
only  one  seemed  disposed  to  sit  up  and  make  himself 
agreeable.  The  leopards  stretched  their  supple  limbs,  and 
blinked,  not  very  amiably,  at  a  certain  black  sister  whose 
rare  color  made  her  an  object  of  dislike  to  all  in  the  den. 
Over  on  the  other  side  of  the  open  space  the  hippopota- 
mus was  enjoying  a  good  scrubbing  from  one  of  the  keep- 
ers, as  you  see  him  in  the  picture. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,"  said  Mr.  Karl,  the  keeper 
in  charge  of  the  great  beasts  of  the  cat  kind  in  the  Show. 
"Whenever  a  man  is  in  doubt  about  the  sort  of  humor 
one  of  these  fierce  fellows  happens  to  be  in,  what  do  you 
think  is  the  safest  way  in  which  he  can  find  out  ?  By  a 
common  broom.  Let  him  be  sure  and  take  a  broom  with 
him  into  the  cage,  and  then  go  quietly  around  sweeping 
for  dear  life.  The  creatures  will  snarl  at  the  broom,  and 
attack  that  before  they  will  touch  him.  So  long  as  he  keeps 
that  broom  in  his  hands  he  is  in  a  measure  a  safe  man; 
but  let  him  once  contrive  to  lose  it  out  of  his  grip,  or  per- 
mit one  of  his  charges  to  claw  it  away  from  him,  and  he 
is  in  danger  at  once." 

One  of  the  little  audience  at  once  took  pains  to  assure 
Mr.  Karl  that  whenever  he  had  occasion  to  go  into  tin- 
tiger's  cage  he  would  be  particular  to  take  a  very  large 
and  durable  broom — several  brooms  if  necessary.  And  so 
he  will — when  he  goes. 

Before  bidding  good -afternoon  to  Mr.  Barnum 's  won- 
derful establishment  a  few  minutes  was  spent  in  watching 
Mr.  Conrad  give  a  lesson  to  the  huge  baboon,  Tom,  which 
recently  came  into  his  hands,  and  which  he  is  very  care- 
fully educating  in  a  variety  of  ti'icks.  At  present  the  cun- 
ning beast  has  only  learned  to  come  to  his  keeper  when 
called,  to  walk  upon  a  rolling  wooden  globe,  and  to  be 
tame  enough  for  further  lessons.  He  is  an  unusually 
large  specimen— about  the  size  of  a  Newfoundland  dog — 
and  when  first  given  to  his  master  four  men  could  not 
manage  him.  He  was  exceedingly  savage,  and  on  one  oc- 
casion, catching  Mr.  Conrad  at  a  disadvantage,  he  actually 
tore  all  the  clothes  from  the  keeper's  back,  and  gave  him 
several  ugly  wounds.  He  is  now  much  more  tractable, 
but  even  yet  has  his  hands  secured  in  leather  gloves  and 
his  mouth  muzzled  while  "school  is  in."  By  the  middle 
of  the  season  he  will  doubtless  have  his  name  on  the  bills 
of  the  Great  Show,  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  many 
of  the  readers  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


MAK. 'It   i::.  ]ss::. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG-  PEOPLE. 


299 


H>ME  CK. \\VLING  LEAVES. 

BY  ELLA  RODMAN  (ill  Urn 

~11  "MIEN  Australia  was  Mist  discovered  l>y  the  English, 
\\  as  many  strange  stories  were  told  about  the  \\on 
derful  things  to  ]«•  found  there  as  we  u^-d  to  hear  in  the 
early  davs  of  (.'alit'ornia.  Among  oilier  things  it  was 
said  that  the  leaves  of  a  certain  tree  had  a  lialiil.  of  de- 
scending t'l I  their  proper  place  and  walking  along  the 

ground. 

A  party  of  English  sailors  had  left  their  ship  to  roam 
along  the  roast  and  "SIM-  what  they  could  see."  They 
were  resting  under  a  tree,  lying  on  their  hacks  proba 
hi v,  and  naturally  ga/.iug  upward,  when  a  sudden  breeze 
shook  down  a  number  of  leaves,  which  turned  somer 
saults  in  the  air,  after  the  manner  of  leaves  generally,  and 
then  Moated  to  the  ground.  The  sailors  were  surprised  at 
this  shower,  because  it  uas  not  the  fall  of  the-  year,  but 
midsummer,  and  these-  falling  leaves  looked  fresh  and 
green.  It  was  strange  to  see  leave-,  deserting  the  tree 
without  any  sort,  of  reason  ;  but  this  was  nothing  to  what 
follou  ed. 

After  a  short  rest  the,.-  able  bodied  leaves  bewail  crawl- 
ing a  Ion  g  on  the  ground  toward  tin-  trunk  of  the  tree  from 
which  the\  came,  and  the  ama/.cd  sailors  started  up  in  ter- 
ror. They  probably  knew  from  experience  that  | pie 

who  come  in  contact  with  the  ground  may  also  expect  to 
come  in  contact  uith  various  crawling  insects,  but  ualk 
ing  leaves  wen-  something  altogether  out  of  the  common 
way;  and  they  took  to  their  heel-,  at  once,  and  lost  no 
time  ill  getting  on  board  the  vessel.  The  land  was  e'er 
tainly  beu  itched,  and  one  of  the  men  said,  in  relating 
their  adventure,  that  he  expected  e\er\  minute  to  see  tin- 
trees  step  out  and  dance  a  regular  jig. 

Fortunately  this  singular  phenomenon  has  been  fully 
explained  by  later  travellers  who  were  not  too  much 
frightened  to  stop  and  examine  the  matter.  ll  \\asdis 
coven -d  that  I  hese  queer  lea  ves  are  real  I  >  in -eels  that  live 
upon  the  trees. and  are  of  tin-  same  color  a>  the  foliage. 
They  have  very  thin.  Mat  bodies,  and  their  wings  are  like 
large  leaves.  \Vhen  anything  disturbs  them  —  like  a 
bree/.e,  for  instance  they  fold  their  legs  away  under  their 
bodies,  and  then  the  leaf-like  shape,  with  stem  and  all.  is 

complete. 

Not  only  are  they  of  a  bright  green  in  summer,  like  the 
foliage  of  the  trees  at  that  time,  but  they  actually  change 
when  the  leaves  do  to  the  dull  brown  produced  by  frost. 
Another  peculiarity  of  these  leaf-insects  is  that,  although 
they  have  a  generous  supply  of  wings,  they  seldom  use 
them,  but  when  they  have  been  shaken  to  the  ground, 
after  lying  then-  for  a  few  minutes  as  if  they  \\ere  really 
leaves,  they  crawl  toward  the  tree,  and  ascend  the  trunk 
without  seeming  to  know  that  they  have  tin-  power  of  get- 
ting back  to  their  quarters  in  a  much  quicker  and  easier 
\\a\  . 

NAN  /•••• 

BY    MRS.  LUCY  C.  LI LUE, 
AI-TIIOH  OF  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN-,"  "AUNT  Rrru's  TEMPTATION-."  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"rpI-IERE!''  exclaimed  Phyllis,  triumphantly,  from  her 
J_    place  011  a  ladder  in  the  hall  at  Rolf  House — "there ! 
the  last  bit  of  evergreen,  thank  goodness!  and  how  does  it 
look  ?" 

The  chorus  of  voices,  young  and  old,  from  below  de- 
clared it  was  a  perfect  success.  And  so  it  was.  The  fine 
old  hall  seemed  to  bloom  with  the  freshness  of  evergreens 
and  flowers,  and  at  one  end  the  huge  tree  was  standing 


*  Begun  in  No.  157,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


behind  a  screen,  which  was  to  be  removed  at  the  fitting 
moment  after  tea.  Half  a  dozen  of  the  invited  guests 
had  arrived — those  who  were  to  remain  over  Chrislmas- 
day — and  Nan  uas  now  anxiously  waiting  Marian's  ap- 
pearance. 

The  door-bell  gave  a  quick  peal,  and  Xan  turned  around, 
her  heart  beat  ing  from  a  mi xt  lire  of  feelings  connected  with 
Marian.  A  gust  of  wind,  a  little  drift  of  snow,  and  then 
Marian's  ligure  appeared. 

Every  one  was  very  quiet  while  Miss  Rolf,  with  her 
usual  courtesy,  went  forward  and  said,  "How  do  you  do, 
my  dear  .'" 

As  the  old  lady  extended  her  beautiful  hand  it  was 
sei/.ed  rather  boisterously  by  Marian.  She  had  come  here 
fully  determined  not  to  be  "  patroni/ed"  or  "snubbed"; 
so.  although  everything  she  saw  in  that  first  glance  was 
rather  awe-inspiring,  she  said,  with  her  jauntiest  air, 

"  \Vell.  yes.  here  I  am,  alive  at  least.  How  do  you  do. 
Nan  .'  Tutting  up  greens,  are  you  ?'' 

The  girl  glanced  conlidi-ntly  about  her.  staring  at 
Phyllis  on  the  ladder,  at  .loan  and  the  boys  assembled 
by  the  fireplace,  and  at  Mrs.  lleriot  and  old  Robert,  who 
were  helping  carefully  here  and  there.  Finally  her  free 
gaze  came  back  lo  Miss  Rolf,  and  there  something  in  the 
old  lady's  tranquil  face  and  Mgure,  with  its  air  of  uncon- 
scious dignity  and  good-breeding,  seemed  to  check  her 
loud  voice  and  independent  manner.  She  stood  verv 
still. 

"Will  you  go  upstairs,  my  dear,  with  Xan  .'"  said  Miss 
Rolf's  quiet  voice  again. 

"Oh  yes,  'in  thank  you.  "m."  And  Marian  crossed 
the  hall  with  Nan.  and  u  cut  up  till-  wide,  curving  slairca.se. 
looking  down  once  in  a  while  at  the  pleasantly  active 
group  hi- low,  and  enjoying  the  sense  of  luxury  and  space 
about  her. 

The  two  girls  had  to  pass  through  Xan's  room,  and  here 
Marian  would  have  liked  to  stop  and  examine  all  the 
dainty  furnishings  and  ornaments  within  it;  but  the 
sight  of  Laura  sleeping  on  the  sofa  made  Xan  hurry  her 
cousin  on,  ami  into  the  comfortable  little  room  assigned 
to  her. 

How  to  give  her  the  dresses  she  hardly  knew;  but  while 
Marian  was  busy  at  the  mirror  taking  oil'  her  hat  and 
pulling  down  her  "bangs."  Nan  said,  rather  timidly, 

"  Marian,  we  thought — aunt,  and  I — that  perhaps  you'd 
have  no  tune  to  prepare  a  party  dress,  and  aunt  bought 
i  bese  if  you  like  them." 

Nan  swung  open  the  wardrobe  door,  and  Marian  turned 
around  u  il  1 1  a  1 1  e\cla  mat  ion  of  del  ight.  She  felt  no  hesi- 
tation about  accepting  the  gift.  Her  eyes  danced  as  she 
exclaimed, 

"Well.  I  never!"  She  was  not  ten  minutes  in  get- 
ting her  dress  oil',  and  living  into  first  one  and  then  the 
other  of  the  two  pretty  dresses.  And  it  certainly  was  a 
comfort  to  see  how  much  their  simplicity  improved  her 
whole  appearance. 

Nan  left  Marian  with  Laura,  when  the  latter  awoke,  and 
went  back  to  help  with  the  Christmas  preparations.  Al- 
together it  was  ail  enchanting  afternoon.  The  Blakes 
and  Traverses  arrived  early,  and  were  all  comfortably 
settled  in  the  black-walnut  parlor,  where  Mrs.  Heriot 
had  a  most  delightful  supper  prepared  for  them.  Little 
David  having  owned  to  a  weakness  for  plum  roll,  there 
was  enough  there  to  satisfy  a,  dozen  like  him  ;  and  Xan  flit- 
ted in  and  out  once  or  twice  to  make  sure  that  her  prote- 
gees had  everything  they  needed  for  their  happiness  and 
comfort.  She  declared  afterward  that  it  was  equal  to 
any  picture  to  see  that  table  —  Mrs.  Heriot  at  the  head, 
Love  at  the  foot,  and  Mrs.  Travers  and  David  011  either 
side,  and  between  them  such  a  sparkling  array  of  china 
and  glass  and  silver. 

The  supper  party  in  the  dining-room  was  to  Nan  rather 
alarming,  since  there  were  present  various  new  relations 


300 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


/  n 

• 

, 


"NAN    CLASPED    THE    NECKLACE    ABOUT   HER    SLENDER    WHITE    THROAT.' 


— an  elderly  cousin,  Jane  Marsh,  and  her  two  quiet  daugh- 
ters; a  tall  boy  cousin,  named  Val  Paton,  who  teased 
her  all  the  time;  Mrs.  Grange,  from  Bromfield;  and  Dr. 
Rogers,  whose  eyes  kept  twinkling  at  Nan;  and  all  the 
College  Street  Rolfs;  and  the  minister,  Mr.  Harnien,  and 
his  delicate  young  daughter. 

Just  before  supper  Laura  had  been  declared  unable  to 
come  down,  so  Nan  contrived  an  excuse,  and  slipped  away 
upstairs  with  a  plate  of  good  things  for  her  cousin. 

She  sat  on  the  low  bench  by  the  fire,  while  Laura  slow- 
iy  ate  the  cake  and  sweetmeats,  and  remained  so  long  that 
tlic  latter  finally  exclaimed, 

"There,  Nan,  it  is  half  past  seven;  you  must  go  and 
dress." 

And  Nan  jumped  up,  and  ran  down-stairs  to  find  Ma- 
rian. That  young  person  Avas  engaged  in  a  very  ani- 
mated conversation  with  Val  Paton,  and  she  looked  as  if 
she  were  enjoying  herself  thoroughly.  It  was  a  new  ex- 
citement, however,  to  go  upstairs  and  dress  for  the  party. 
Nail  staid  with  her  to  give  her  any  help  needed,  and  when 


the  last  touches  were 
put  she  could  not  but 
admit  that  Marian  look- 
ed very  well,  and  very 
much  like  a  "little 
lady."  "And  school 
will  do  the  rest  to  her 
manners." 

Nan's  own  toilet  was 
speedily  made.  It  was 
only  a  simple  white 
mull  with  blue  ribbons ; 
but  Mrs.  Heriot  stopped 
her  in  the  corridor  to 
make  sure  everything 
about  "her  bairn"  was 
right. 

I  can  not  describe  all 
the  delights  and  won- 
ders of  thai  Christmas. 
First  came  the  tree, 
when  the  whole  party, 
servants  and  all.  were 
gathered  about,  and 
Nan  distributed  the 
gifts.  Of  course  all 
proved  satisfactory, 
from  the  joint  ottering 
of  the  Rolfs — Nan  in- 
cluded— to  Aunt  Lelly. 
of  a  dainty  blue  and 
white  tea  service,  to  lit- 
tle David's  enormous 
army  of  tin  soldiers, 
cannon,  forts,  and  all 
war- like  contrivances. 
There  wen- not  uanl  ing 
useful  presents  as  well : 
Marian  had  a  set  of 
furs,  and  Love  Blake  a 
fine  winter  jacket.  As 
for  Nan  herself,  she 
had  what  she  prized 
most,  an  exquisite  gold 
watch,  with  Aunt  Let- 
ty's  portrait  on  the  iii- 
side.  And  then  Phyl- 
lis's  gift  had  a  peculiar 
meaning.  Nan  had 
said  to  Aunt  Letty, 
when  the  presents  were 
talked  over:  "Aunt,  1 
ilo  want  Phyllis  to 

have  something  beautiful ;"'  so  together  they  had  chosen 
a  pearl  necklace — just  a  string  of  beautiful  pearls,  from 
which  fell  little  fine-pointed  glittering  gold  drops. 

Phyllis  was  standing  near  the  tree,  looking  very  beau- 
tiful in  her  white  lace  dress,  when  Nan  clasped  the  neck- 
lace about  her  slender  white  throat,  and  she  did  not  see 
the  tears  that  came  into  her  cousin's  eyes.  Phyllis  was 
thinking'  of  how  grandly  she  had  expected  to  mould  Nan 
to  something  worthy  of  her  new  position — and  was  it  not 
from  little  Nan  she  had  learned  her  deepest,  purest  les- 
sons ? 

Of  course  the  party  was  a  success.  By  nine  o'clock  the 
rooms  were  all  filled  with  a  gay,  laughing  company,  but 
the  younger  ones  best  enjoyed  keeping  by  themselves. 
The  band  was  stationed  in  the  hall,  and  the  young  peo- 
ple danced  in  the  walnut  parlor,  the  utmost  good  cheer 
prevailing.  Once  in  a  while  Nan  ran  up  to  report  prog- 
ress to  Laura,  who  had  her  presents  on  her  sofa,  and 
seemed  to  enjoy  things  from  the  distance. 

It  was   midnight  when   all   but   the  home  party  had 


MAK'  II    i::,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


301 


gone.  N.-MI  had  kept  wishing  Lance  had  been  there, 
ami  Phyllis  said,  as  they  all  gathered  about  the  hall  lire. 

that  she  meant  to  write  1i>  him  that  very  ni^hl.  Marian 
looU-ed  a-,  if  she  lie^all  i"  S(  6  Mil  I  let  1 1  i  1 1  <_;•  ill  life  Keller  than 
the  attempt  to  he  the  most  "stylish"  of  Mrs.  Delille's 
"young  ladies";  anil  .loan  could  only  "hold  on"  to  Nan. 
as  she  expressed  il.  declaring  she  was  too  happy  to  live. 

So  with  all  these  happy  feelings  the  parly  separated  for 
their  various  rooms.  .1  list  hefore  they  went  to  hed.  .Marian 
said  to  Nan.  with  a  little  half  niortitii-d  laugh, 

"See  here.  Nan:  I  don't  think  \  on  a  ////  stuck-  up.  as  1 
I  In  u  in-lit  you'd  he,  and  I  think  it  was  awfully  good  of  Miss 
Poll'  lo  ask  me." 

I.iltle  as  it  was,  this  remark  pleased  Nan  greatly,  and 
made  her  hopeful  for  the  future. 

Kvery  one  uas  in  hed.  and  it  might  liave  heen  thought 
asleep,  hut  Nan  felt  wide  auake  after  the  many  excite- 
nienis  of  the  day. 

Il  was  a  glorious  ni<;ht.  Although  the  ground  was  white 
with  a  covering  of  snow,  the  moon  silvered  everything, 
and  Nan  knell  in  the  \\indow  of  her  new  room  looking 
out  uilh  iM'alel'ul  eyes  upon  the  plaee  she  now  felt  to  he 
reall\  home.  She  was  thinking  of  so  many  things  lhat 
she  scarcely  heard  any  sound  within,  until  I'hyllis's  slep 
.sounded  just  at  her  side,  ami  there  «as  her  oldest  coiisin 
in  her  dressinir  \vrapper.  Nan  \\elcomed  her  with  a 
quickly  ontstrelelied  hand. 

I'hvllissal  do\\nli\  Nan  in  silence  for  a  minute  ;  then 
.she  said,  very  softly, 


"  Nan,  will  you  always  help  Laura,  and  Joan,  and  all 
of  US?" 

"Of  course,"  \\  hispered  Nan;  "all  I  know  how." 

The  two  cousins  remained  silent  a  little  while  longer, 
and  then  Nan  said,  looking  out  at  the  quiet  snow  in  the 
light : 

"What  were  the  words  of  that  old  Christinas  hymn 
Phyllis? 

'And  unto  ns  ;i  Cliilil   was   born, 
AVIiusc  niMi-k  of  s(irrci\v   ILIUM    In1   num.' 

Phyllis."  she  added,  " do  you  suppose  we  must  all  have 
sorrow  .'" 

Sometimes."  said  Phyllis.  "lint,  Nan  dear,  I  think 
it  is  going  to  be  your  part  in  life  to  help  other  people's 
sorrows." 

"  If  I  can  he  good  enough  and  wise  enough,"  answered 
Nan. 

And  then  in  a  moment  Phyllis  kissed  her  good-night, 
and  uent  away,  glancing  at  Laura,  sleeping  in  Nan's  bed. 

How  many  changes  had  come  since,  with  all  pride  and 
curiosity,  Phyllis  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Rupert's  for  Nan! 
Not  one  could  have  delined  the  child's  power  among 

them;  hut  I  think  that  somewhere  beyond  the  quiet  star- 
lit sky  at  which  Nan  was  ga/.ingthat  Christmas  morning, 
Otic  knew  that  the  gift  of  sweetness  and  truth  given  to 

her  had   not   heen   u  asted. 

And  so  we  will  leave  her.  hoping,  if  we  meet  her  again, 
it  will  he  seen  that   Miss  Poll's  IniM   u  as  not  an  idle  one. 
THE  I:M>. 


THE    GRAND    TEUNK    LINE. 


302 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  AM  very  glad  to  tell  you  that  many  of  the  boys 
have  answered  the  questions  I  asked  them  in 
No.  173.  and  that  while  some  of  their  letters  ap- 
pear in  this  number,  others  are  held  for  next 
week's  Post-office  Box. 

Some  of  the  little  girls  are  beginning  to  be  tired 
of  their  winter  elothes.  and  wish  that  mamma 
would  see  about  getting  their  pretty  new  spring 
dresses.  Mother  Nature  is  quite  busy  and  impor- 
tant in  the  same  direction,  for  her  trees  must 
presently  come  out  in  full  suits  of  hrijrht  green, 
and  her  flowers  are  waking  up  and  looking  about 
for  something  to  wear. 

Let  me  tell  you  how  some  little  Chinese  girls 
were  dressed  when  they  were  taken  by  their  par- 
ents to  call  on  Miss  Bird.  Miss  Bird  is  an  Eng- 
lish lady  who  is  agreat  traveller,  and  in  the  course 
of  one  of  her  journeys  she  visited  Malacca.  Of 
course  you  know  where  to  find  Malacca  on  the 
map.  What,  is  it,  my  dears— a  peninsula  or  an  isl- 
and, and  what  are  its  boundaries?  If  you  have 
learned  the  little  lesson  in  geography  so  that  you 
can  answer  those  questions,  I  will  tell  you  some- 
thing of  what  I  read  in  Miss  Bird's  narrative. 

Lite  among  the  Malays  is  rather  easy-going  and 
pleasant,  except  when  tigers  are  around,  as  hap- 
pens now  and  then  to  he  the  case.  When  one  of 
these  ferocious  monsters  is  seen  on  the  streets, 
the  people  bar  their  houses  and  shut  their  shops 
and  nobody  dares  to  go  abroad  until  the  hunters 
have  been  out  and  killed  the  beast. 

The  Chinese  children  who  came  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  party  of  English  visitors  were 
four  in  number— a  boy  and  girl  of  live  and  six 
years  old,  anil  two  younger  children.  Their  pnpa 
was  a  very  rich  merchant,  and  they  were  attend- 
ed by  a  train  of  Chinese  and  Malay  servants. 

The  little  girl  wore  a  yellow  petticoat  of  thick 
satin,  with  a  broad  box  pleat  in  front  and  be- 
hind, embroidered  with  flowers  in  blue  silk.  Over 
this  I  here  was  a  robe  of  crimson  brocade,  with  a 
broad  border  of  cream-white  satin,  which  also 
was  embroidered  with  lovely  blue  flowers.  Above 
this  was  a  tippet  of  three  rows  of  embroidered 
lozenge-shaped  pieces  of  satin. 

On  the  little  head  was  a  black  velvet  cap  shaped 
like  a  crown.  Blazing  on  top  of  this  was  a  clus- 
ter of  large  diamonds,  and  smaller  ones  were 
fastened  over  it,  flashing  like  dew-drops  in  the 
sun.  The  slender  little  neck  was  weighed  down 
with  no  less  than  seven  necklaces :  the  first  of  dia- 
monds, the  second  of  emeralds,  the  third  of  pearls, 
the  fourth  of  hollow  golden  heads,  the  fifth  of  dia- 
monds and  sapphires,  the  sixth  of  finely  wrought 
chains  clasped  by  a  filigree  fish,  the  seventh  a 
massive  gold  chain  from  which  hung  a  golden 
shield,  on  which,  among  flowers  and  fishes  the 
•child's  name  was  raised  in  rubies.  Besides  all 
this  splendor  the  poor  child  wore  heavy  gold 
bracelets  and  wonderful  ear-rings. 

The  other  children  were  dressed  in  the  same 
•showy  way.  It  was  a  relief  to  see  two  little  things 
who  afterward  came  to  make  their  call  simply 
dressed  in  blue  and  white,  with  only  here  and 
•there  a  gem  set  in  silver.  They  were  in  mourn- 
ing for  their  mother,  and  thus  the  plainness  was 
accounted  for. 

Tin  you  know,  dear  children,  that  I  think  you 
look  much  sweeter  in  your  pretty  white  aprons 
and  comfortable  dresses,  in  which  you  may  run 
and  jump  to  your  heart's  content,  than  these  lit- 
tle creatures  did.  When  they  stooped  down  to 
pick  up  some  sugar-plums  their  jewels  and  stiff 
satin  clothes  were  in  the  way.  I  fancy  they  must, 
hale  the  sharp  stones  and  heavy  chains  around 
their  necks.  They  don't  have  the  good  times 
you  do,  my  chicks. 


I  don't  want  you  to  think  me  a  little  Cerinan 
.girl  when  I  am  a  little  American  at  school  in 

Dresden  a  very  charming  place.  Then1 Is  in 

Europe  have  been  terrible.  The  Elbe  (Dresden 
is  on  that  men  lia~  In  en  a  giv:it  many  feet  high- 
er than  its  usual  height.  Before  I  left  America 
everybody  told  me  Dresden  was  very  cold,  but 
we  have  bad  only  one  or  two  snow-storms,  not 
deep  enough  for  sleighing. 

1  have  been  to  the  Dresden  Gallery  several 


times,  and  I  think  the  pictures  are  simply  per- 
fect. 1  like  Raphael's  "Madonna  di  San  Sisto" 
best  of  all.  I  saw  the  Queen  in  church,  and  I  was 
disappointed  because  she  looked  like  any  other 
lady.  I  met  the  King  iu  the  Park  the  other  day  ; 
he  looks  very  old. 

I  went  to  the  Green  Vault  yesterday.  It  would 
fill  the  paper  if  I  should  tell  you  of  everything 
there.  For  one  thing.  I  saw  the  only  green  dia- 
mond  in  the  world.  There  was  also  a  silver  board 
about  six  feet  long,  with  the  Great  Mogul  and  all 
his  attendants  in  precious  jewels  upon  it.  Then 
there  was  a  fire-place  of  white  marble,  also  set 
with  jewels,  and  many  other  things. 

I  think  you  must  lie  tired  of  Dresden  by  this 
time  ;  but" this  summer,  when  I  travel,  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  the  places  we  yisit. 

They  are  very  cruel  to  the  dogs  here  ;  they  keep 
them  muzzled,  and  the  peasants  make  the  large 
ones  take  the  place  of  a  horse.  There  are  a  great 
many  tame  pigeons  in  the  streets.  They  have 
ostriches  in  the  Grosser  Garten,  and  the  prettiest 
pink  crane  I  ever  saw.  There  are  about  twice 
as  many  animals  as  in  Central  Park. 

MIONON  C. 

Thank  you,  Mignon,  for  your  letter,  which  is 
very  interesting.  I  would  like  to  see  the  green 
diamond  and  the  pink  crane,  and  I  feel  very  sor- 
ry for  the  poor  dogs  which  have  heavy  loads  to 
draw. 

FITCHBL'RG,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  found  some  pussy  willows  to-day  (February 
18),  and  I  think  I  am  about  the  first  person  who 
has  found  any  this  year.  I  live  in  the  country, 
and  go  to  school  every  day  unless  it  storms  very 
hard.  I  have  a  brother  and  sister  younger  than 
I  am.  I  have  a  canary-bird,  which  I  call  Smut- 
ty on  account  of  two  little  dark  places  behind 
iis  e\cs.  I  have  taken  HARPER'S  Yorxc  PEOPLE 
ever  since  it  was  published,  and  I  like  it  very 
much.  I  am  taking  painting  lessons  in  water- 
colors,  and  have  painted  some  pretty  things. 
A.  BERTHA  W. 

You  are  the  very  first  person  to  write  to  me 
about  finding  tokens  of  spring.  I  am  glad  you 
found  the  pussy  willows.  Have  you  ever  tried 
to  paint  them'-  I  would  change  birdie's  name  to 
something  prettier  if  I  were  you. 


I  have  a  trained  goat ;  her  name  is  Nell.  When 
I  drive  her  from  home  she  gets  balky,  but  when 
I  drive  her  back  she  runs  all  the  way.  She  will 
lie  bad  and  untrained,  when  1  hitch  her  up  again, 
because  she  is  getting  lazy.  While  I  was  sick 
with  the  measles  I  had  a  skye  terrier:  his  name 
^as  Zip.  Christmas  week  he  was  killed  by  the 
cars,  so  that  made  my  holidays  end  very  sadly. 
I  take  HAIIPKII'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  so  does  my 
friend  Clara  in  Harrisburg.  MAUD  H. 


STEVKNS  Hmii  SCHHOL,  HOBOKF.N,  N'HW  JHRSEY. 

I  am  twelve  years  old,  and  go  to  the  High 
School.  1  a ni  very  fond  of  reading,  but  have  so 
many  nice  books  that  I  hardly  know  which  I  pre- 
fer, lull  I  think  that  I  like  best  Longfellow's  po- 
ems for  poclry,  Aldrieh's  .sVo/v/  of  a  H<ul  Boy  for 
stories,  and  Kuox's  ttnt/  Travellers  for  travel.  I 
have  four  volumes  of  tiie  Hoy  Tnirrllti-s.  I  don't 
have  to  study  very  much  out  of  school,  as  I  do 
my  examples  and  write  myexercises  when  there. 
and  only  copy  them  afterward. 

I  take  music  and  dancing  lessons.  My  favorite 
game  is  base-ball.  In  the  evening,  when  my  les- 
sons are  learned.  1  generally  read.  The  other 
day  I  went  over  to  New  York  and  helped  my  in- 
structor make  out  the  reports,  and  lie  gave  me 
$1  50.  I  have  taken  YOUNG  PKOPIE  ever  since  it 
was  published,  and  like  it  very  much  indeed.  A 
constant  reader.  HARRY  H.  M. 


NR\V  YORK  CITV. 

I  am  a  bny  ten  years  old,  and  take  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  think  it.  is  lovely.  Once  when 
I  was  in  the  country  we  went  crabbing,  and  when 
the  crabs  Uegan  to  bite  fast  the  sky  grew  sudden- 
ly black,  and  papa  said,  "We  must  get  home  as 
last  as  we  can,"  so  pulling  in  our  lines,  and  pick- 
ing up  our  basket  and  net,  we  started  for  home. 
The  sky  grew  blacker,  and  the  wind  blew  very 
hard,  and  as  we  reached  a  bridge  not  far  from 
iionie  papa  Said,  "We  shall  have  to  stop  at  a 
neighbor's  house,  and  wait  until  the  shower  is 
over,"  whi  ;li  we  did,  and  then  went  home  and 
cooked  the  crabs. 

I  take  delight  in  reading  Jimmy  Brown's  and 
James  Otis's  stories.  T.  W.  L. 


NBW  YORK  CITY. 

DEAF.  POSTMISTRESS. — You  said  you  wanted  to 
know  something  about  boys,  so  we  are  going  to 
tell  you  what  we  do.  We  twelve  boys  are  great 
chums,  and  all  live  near  together.  We  have  a 
tutor,  who  teaches  us  at  caeh  boy's  house  for  a 
month,  from  !i.::o  A.M. to  ','  P.M.  The  top  tloor  of 
my  father's  house  is  divided  into  two  rooms. 
(  hie  is  comfort  a  lil  v  furnished  wilh  rngs.  lounges. 
easy-chairs,  lire-place,  etc,  while  the  other  has 
nothing  but  dumb-bells,  trapezes,  etc.  The  for- 
mer we  call  our  study,  and  the  latter  our  gym- 
nasium. Wednesdays  we  play  at  our  Eoyal  Ten- 


nis Club  with  our  sisters  and  cousins.  Other  aft- 
ernoons we  play  base-ball  in  a  lot  a  block  from 
our  house.  Evenings  we  read  our  papers  and 
books  until  0  P.M.  We  take  turns  all  dining  at 
each  other's  houses  on  Saturdays,  and  have  lots 
of  fun. 

Our  favorite  books  are  the  "  Leatherstocking" 
tales,  our  favorite  amusement  is  reading,  and  our 
favorite  play  is  base-ball.  About  our  motto  we 
had  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  until  Allie's  mother 
told  us  to  get  one  off  our  study  calendar,  and  al- 
ways keep  it,  so  tins  is  what  it  is.  "Two  ears  to 
one  tongue,  therefore  hear  twice  as  much  as  you 
say." 

With  three  cheers  for  YOUNG  PEOPLE, we  remain, 
REGINALD  R.  (aged  14),    F'RANK  S.  iaged  141, 
RAY  S.  (aged  la),  DAVIE  L.  (aged  15), 

TOM  L.  (aged  18),  LOCM;  M  iaged  111. 

JACK  M.  (aged  11),  ALLIE  L.  (aged  141. 

PHIL  J.  (aged  IS),  GBOBGIEP.  iaged  15), 

DICK  J.  (aged  13),  MAX  W.  (aged  i:)i. 

THE  TRUE  HISTORY  OF  FIVE  KITTENS. 
Oh,  Postmistress  dear,  you  should  have   been 
here. 

And  seen  the  five  kittens  I  had. 
Poor  sweet  little  dears!  I  almost  shed  tears 

When  I  think  of  the  fates  they  have  had. 

There  were  five  of  'em— five  small  kittens— alive, 
And,  O,  such  cute  antics  they'd  cut ! 

It  would  make  you  laugh  if  you'd  but  hear  half. 
Their  names  were  Pat,  Pet,  Pit,  Pot,  Put. 

My  papa,  you  see.  went  and  named  'em  for  me 
After  I  had  called  one  Pet,  you  know; 

lie  said  that  he  thought  'twould  be  fair,  and  I 

ought 
To  give  all  the  vowels  a  show. 

Black  and  white  were  three,  'ccptin'  Patsy,  and 
she 

Was  kind  of  a  yellowish-pale, 
And  little  black  Pot.  who  only  bad  got 

s^ime  white  on  the  tip  of  his  tail. 

They  were  warm,  and  well  fed  on  nice  milk  and 
bread. 

And  chicken-bones,  soup,  and  spare  ribs. 
And  varied  their  diet  by  making  mice  quiet 

Out  in  the  big  barn  and  corn-cribs. 

Well,  then,  Patsy  she  had  on  a  sloping  tree 
A  warm,  sunny  spot  where  she  bunked, 

Till  a  big  dog  there  crept  one  day  as  she  slept, 
And  left  little  Patsy  defunct. 

A  farmer  one  day  bundled  Put  in  his  sleigh 
And  to  his  home,  five  miles  off,  drove: 

That  night  we  heard  scratchiu',  and  lifting  the 

lateh. in 
Walked  Put,  and  crept  under  the  stove. 

Soon  Pit  got  to  roam  :  at  last  he  left  home. 

And  then  never  more  could  be  found. 
He  always  «Y/f  wild  ;  I'm  afraid  the  poor  child 

Has  gone  off  somewhere  an'  got  drowned. 


But  dear  sweet  old  Pet.  she  lives  with  us  yet, 
Is  now  at  my  feet  lying  thinking; 

She's  an  old  cat,  therefore  she  does  nothing  but 

purr, 
'Cept  occasionally  lazily  winking.     C.  H.  H. 


Asc.h  M.   v.  Nnv    Yi'liK. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  live  in  the 
little  village  of  Angelica  with  my  aunty.  Most 
of  the  children  write  about  their  pets.'  I  have 
had  one  for  more  than  two  years,  and  that  is 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  don't  wish  for  any  better 
one.  I  have  read  them  all  aloud  to  aunty.  I 
look  anxiously  for  it  every  Tuesday,  the  day  it 
comes.  I  do  not  go  to  school,  but  study  at  home. 
I  have  finished  the  Fourth  Reader, and  am  in  the 
second  geography  and  arithmetic,  and  have  kept 
a  journal  more  than  two  years.  1  hope  my  letter 
is  not  too  long  to  print,  as  it  is  the  first  one  I 
have  written.  MARIE  R. 


WAKBM  AS,  OHIO. 

I  saw  your  invitation  to  the  boy  readers  of  HAR- 
PER'S YOUNG  PEOPLE  to  write.  1  live  in  this  little 
nook,  and  work  during  my  spare  time  in  the 
printing-office.  I  have  a  telegraph  instrument 
with  which  to  spend  my  leisure.  I  also  take 
great  pleasure  in  reading,  especially  Jules  \  erne's 
works;  his  Twenty  Tlmimainl  Leagues  I'mli  r  tit, 
Sea  is  splendid.  But  my  telegraph  is  best.  There 
are  ten  of  us  boys  on  the  line,  and  more  coining. 
Not  wishing  to  tire  you,  I  say  good-by.  E.  M. 


r. ivv.  NKW  YORK. 

I  live  with  my  papa  and  mamma.  I  am  thir- 
teen years  old.  About  three  years  ago  I  caught 
four  land-turtles,  and  last  summer  I  raised  tour 
young  ones.  The  old  one  dug  a  hole  iu  the  ground, 
and  then  she  laid  her  eggs.  My  father  and  I 
watched  her  dig  the  hole.  I  also  have  a  small 
water-turtle  which  I  caught  last  summer.  I  keep 
it  in  a  glass,  with  stones  in  the  bottom.  I  har- 
ness one  of  my  large  land-turtles,  named  Dick,  to 


MARCH  IS,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


303 


a  small  wagon,  and  drive  him.  He  knows  his 
name  very  well  ;  he  will  also  c-ome  when  I  call 
him. 

Tliis  is  tin-  first  time  I  ever  wrote  to  the  paper. 
Tell  Dura  anil  Amy  I  would  like  very  mm -h  in 
have  tin-in  s.-e  my  young  land-turtles.  I  bury 
the  large  "lies  every  winter  in  the  Around.  1  go 

<"  sel I.  and  I  am  only  tour  classes  trom  the 

graduating.  I  have  takeu  musiu  lessens  four 

HAI:I:V  IS. 

The  IHIVS  have  given  us  quite  a  pieture  of  their 
luisy  lives.  Next  week  we  shall  hope  to  hear 
from  mi  nv  of  them. 


III!  I  "IT.  K.   ST.    IlKI  KV  A,   TAI  IFOIIMA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old  I  want  t.;  tell 
you  about  nnr  '•-  iiintrv  up  here  II  is  a  little  val- 
ley, with  n tains  all  around  it  It  is  very  fun- 

ny. because  the  grass  is  green  only  in  the  w  inter. 
and  in  the  summer  the  creeks  are  all  dried  up. 
\\V  have  a  little  plaee  with  three  springs  on  it. 
Usually  we  don't  have  snow  here,  l.nt  this  win- 
ter w.-  did.  because  it  was  unusually  mid.  I 

liave  Iho  eals.  two  guinea  pig-,  and  a  dog.      My 

cats' names  are  Spottie,  Topsyturvy.  Nin.  Dande- 
lion, air  1  \\  hit  rfoot  ;  my  nuinca  pins'  names  are 
Dimple  and  Daisy  ;  my  dog's  name  is  Frank. 
.\1.\  \:\  1. 01  1. 1   i 


cu. v.  C,VAI>A. 

I  saw  a  letter  in  the  Post  oftiec  Box  a  litlle 
while  ai.''>  I'rorn  my  eonsin  in  Winnipeg',  and  it 
made  me  think  I  would  like  to  send  one  tOO. 
Carillon  is  a  litlle  village  on  the  oiiawa  Hiver. 
Nfeai  l\  all  the  pe<,p|e  are  Krcnch-l  'anailians.  We 
live  iii  a  great  big  si, me  house-  that  was  once  a 
barrack,  a  Ion,'  time  a-o.  In  the  cellar  there  is 
a  great  deep  hole,  where  they  used  to  put  the 
had  s,,|,|ler-  We  have  sueh  a  lot  of  snow  h,-re  ' 
the  drills  af  tiie  sides  of  the  roads  ivaeh  away 
above  my  head.  But  I  lo\c  the -now  My  little 
brother  Max  and  I  have  sueh  Inn  playing  in  it  : 
We  often  go  out  snow-shoeing  and  gliding.  I 
wonder  if  you  ever  went  down  hill  on  a  "Imli." 

If  you    haven't.  I   would   like    to  lake  you   down 
our  hill:  you  would   like  it.   I   know.    'l   am   leu 
<  ai  s  old.         Your  loving  little  friend, 

DAIS? 

How  delightful  to  live  in  an  old  house  like 
yours  a  house  that  was  oiire  oeeupied  by  sol- 
diers, and  that  has  a  mysterious  hole  in  the 
cellar!  I  am  afraid  I  would  not  enjoy  rid  inn 
down-hill  on  a  "hob." 


MlMil:.!     POINT,   WUCOKIIK. 

This  is  my  first  letter  to  my  dear  MAKCI  B'a 
YOI-M.  I'Kiii'i.K.  hut  I  love  it  very  much,  and  so 
do  papa  and  mamma  I  am  just  six  years  old. 
and  my  sweei  Ijitle  sister  Vernie  F.leanor  is  two 
and  a  half  years  old-  she  has  ten  dollies,  and 
they  all  have  pretty  names  Last  summer  she 
used  lo  swing  in  the  haininoek.  and  called  it  the 
"hammer"  Now  she  can  recite  most  of  the 
cunning  little  rhymes  in  my  Yin  M.  I'i  on  i  eai  h 
week,  I  have  t  wo  volumes  hound,  and  am  going 

to   save  this  year's  numbers  to  bind        We  have  a 

pet  liiinnie  named  Snowball :  he  is  all  while,  with 
pink  eyes  In  nu  aquarium  I  have  a  large  gold- 
fish named  Pickwick;  we  had  three  more  Sam 
Wcller.  Mr.  Winkle,  and  I'earl.  but  they  died  a 
while  ago.  one  day  when  mamma  came  home 
she  found  our  Maltese  eat  Cleopatra  play  inn  with 
Pickwick  on  the  carpet  .Mamma  threw  him  in 
the  water  again,  and  lie  soon  revived  and  was 
all  right  The  cat  has  since  died,  and  so  has  our 
canary-bird.  I  am  fond  of  animals;  have  been 
to  i  'hieago  three  times,  and  like  to  go  to  Lincoln 
Park  to  see  the  hears.  Jimmy  Brown's  stories 
an-  so  funny  '  1  have  had  a  splendid  snow-man 
of  my  own  in  our  front  yard  for  some  time,  and 
he  is  t'ro/.en  so  hard  that  \\e  boys  can  not  batter 
him  down.  On  my  last  birthday  papa  nave  me 
Jumbo's  Picture-Book  of  Natural  Hix/m-y.  and  on 
Christmas  grandpa  nave  me  a  box  of  sliced-up 
pictures  of  animals  that  will  form  six  win  >li  i  ones. 
AnTuun  MAUIIIB  L. 


EVAXRTO*,    Il.l.l\.ll>. 

I  wrote  a  letter  to  you  once  before,  but  I  have 
not  seen  it.  printer!,  so  mamma  told  me  I  minht 
write  anain  I  think  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are 
so  funny.  I  like  "Nan"  very  much,  but  I  don't 
see  why  Laura  don't  tell  that  she  got  those 
thins*,  and  not  let  Nan  get,  blamed  for  her.  lam 
eight  years  old— will  be  nine  the  18th  of  March 
—and  am  in  th"  Third  Reader.  I  study  Ouyot's 
Geography,  arithmetic,  and  writing.  Mamma 
teaches  me  my  lesson  on  the  piano.  1  have  a 
doll  house  with  ten  dolls  in  it.  I  am  very  fond 
of  all  of  them,  but  I  love  one  the  best  ;  her  name 
is  Julie,  she  will  be  three  years  old  on  my  next 
birthday  Julie  gut  a  pretty  willow  cradle  lined 
with  blue  on  Christmas.  I  keep  it  by  the  side  of 
my  bed.  and  put  her  in  it  every  night.  When  I 
wake  in  the  morning  I  always  find  her  eyes  open 
looking  at  me.  I  hope  yon  got  lots  of  presents  on 
Christmas. and  just  what  you  wanted  We  had 
a  pretty  tree,  and  a  nice  time.  I  got  three  such 
lovely  books!  one  was  Diddie.  Dumps,  and  h,t 
It  lias  all  about  Ole  Billy,  just  the  same  as  was 
in  YIIUNO  PEOPLE.  I  have  read  it  through  about 
six  times.  Bob  has  too,  and  we  both  laugh  just 


and  am  glad  then-  is  to  be  a  sequel  to  it   next' 
year.    I  hope  somebody  will  get  it  for  me.     My 

thml  t k  is   II,.  Babies.     It  is  «,  beautiful'    'l 

draw  out  of  it.  and  never  get  tired  looking  at  the 
sweet  baby  pictures.  I  love  to  draw  and  paint 
Grandpa  i-  aches  me  how  I  have  K,it,  Greenti- 
'  '•/  Hoik,  and  I  paint  one  of  the  pic 
tures  in  it  each  day  when  the  date  conies 

I  received  ma  n  y  prct  t  y  valentines  on  St  Valen- 
tine', liav:  I  ha\e  tilled  a  window  with  them; 
then  the  gill-  and  I  stand  outside  and  look  at 
them.  This  is  such  a  rainy,  misty  day  1  can't  sec 

acrOSS  the  street        I  feel  very  mi-erable  I a  Use  I 

have  to  stay  iii  the  house.     Now  that  I've  1,.     u, 
this  letter  I  don't  feel  quite  BO  bad 

My  brother  Bob  has  just  finished  a  fire  screen 
nnnia.  It  is  covered  with  strong  muslin, 
on  which  he  has  pasted  (  'hristmas  cards  close  to 
gether,  SO  the  muslin  don't  show.  He  made  it 
all  himself.  It  i-  verj  pretty,  and  mamma  says 
she  i-  much  pleased  with  it.  and  timls  it  verj  ilsi 
fill.  The  frame-work  is  pine-wood, and  Bob  stain- 
ed it  bro\\  n 

We  went  to  see  General  and  Mrs.  Tom  Thumb 
in  Chicago  just  a  few  days  before  that  dreadful 
lire  at  the  Newhall  House.  Milwaukee'.  1  ua-  so 
glad  lhe>  ,-eaped  unhurt.  I  think  Mrs.  Thumb 
ts  too  sweet  for  anything.  OLIVE  T. 

Write  again,  dear,  and  tell  Bob  I  expect  to  hear 
from  him. 


pencil. 


---------    "  Por- 

icture drawn  with  brush  or 


PUZZLES  FROM  YoI'M;  COXTUIBCTOUS. 

No.  1. 

TWO    i:\-}    M.II  AltES. 

1.— 1.  Among,    xl.  Not  less.    3.  A  metal.    4.  To 

GAZETTA. 

2.— 1.  A  small  fastening,  a.  A  piece  of  land 
3.  A  steep  rock.  4.  Small  receptacles. 

ALF.  KAUFMAN. 

Xo.  3. 

DIAMOND. 

1.  In  HARPER'S  YOITNI;  PEOPLE.  9  A  vehicle 
3  A  heavenly  body.  4.  A  fortification.  .i.  Prompt 
0.  To  endeavor.  7.  In  our  Post-office  Box. 

J.  K.  SKLIM. 

No   :; 

PROGRESSIVE    IIAI.F-SO.rABE. 

1.  A  letter.  2.  A  parent.  3.  Equal  value.  4  \ 
leopard.  5.  A  Chinese  vessel.  6.  Forgiveness. 

J.  K.  SELIM. 


No.  4. 

NI-MKIIIi  'A  I.    ENIGMA. 

I  am  composed  of  M  Idlers,  and  am  a  wise  sav- 
ing of  old. 


WASHINGTON.  I>.  C. 

I  have  a  cat.  but  I  do  not  play  with  her.  for  I 

"   without   her      [   have  a   younger          Mv   1    e  37  10  7  H  is  a  city  once  renowned  for 
sis  cr  MX   years  old.  and    I   am  only  -,  ven   years      learning  and  wit 

old.    We  have  a  large  garden,  and  1  have  a  hoi  Wj  23, 1C.  44.  30  is  a  point  of  the  compass 

M>  i;.  II.  13.  Hi.  3.  111.  .11  is  a  skilled  worker 
M\    I   3.  .11.  1.1  i-  a  place  of  defense 
My  31.33.  31.  33.  1.1  is  food. 
M*  39,40,  11.   13.  L".  can  do  boll,  good  and  evil 

My  I8,29,28is  pan  of  a  whei  I 

My  3li,  3.1.  34  is  a  vegetable  product. 

M  v  3s.  17.  '!ii.  3.1.  31  is  used  by  every  housekeeper 

M\  '.i.  .13.  .13  i-  an  ariiele  of  dress. 

M\    in.  13.  14.47  is  a  musical  sound. 


bed  of  mv  own. 

I  saw  the  transit  ,.f  Venus  through  one  of  the 
largest  telescopes  in  the  world,  which  is  here  at 
•'  r\ator>  NAN  MI:  W   S 


»'iio:ii-i..-,s,,iTM  CAROLINA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  s.-\cn  year-  old.  and  mv  name 
i-  I'earl.  I  did  not  gel  a  name  until  1  was  three 
months  old.  and  then  mv  mamma  was  reading 
Far.jeon's  book,  I'/i,  Ishimi  /'mil,  ami  named  ..... 
after 


.  ,  , 

after  Queen  I'earl.  for  she  thought  h.  r  such  a 
sweet  little  girl  1  have  live  brothers  and  two 

sisters  ;    the   eldest     i-   ele  \  en   V  ea  rs  old  :    two    1,1',, 

I  he  r~  and  two  sisters  \ounger  than  I  :  also  a  ra 
nary-bird  pet.  and  two  do-s.  Nero  ami  Tiger 
N  e  Ihe  on  the  banks  of  the  Ashley  Hiver.  and 
we  have  a  \ci-v  large  grove  ofbeaUtifUl  oak-  and 

lanre!  trees,  also  a  garden  with  a  I.  out  three  tin 

.-lies.  My  mamma  has  just  In 
reading  "  I  m-lc  hVnm-"  io  us.  He  reminds  me 
of  our  old  mamma  silvey.  who  was  niy  papa's 
nurse,  and  is  eighty  years  old.  and  is  so  smart 
and  act  ho  now  she  lives  w  ilh  us.  and  tells  us 
about  papa  when  lie  was  a  little  hoy. 

PEA  in.  II. 


.      .      . 

My  30.  50.  33  is  a  thoroughfare. 
Jly  48aud  37  are  in  the  .second  person  singular. 


No.  .1. 

A   DROP-LETTER  PUZZLE. 

1.  — t— a— i— 1— i— u— h— t— b 
-d. 

3.  f — n— f  —    •  — h—        .  —a— e— i- 


-i-d-. 


I  have  been  taking  YIU-NG  PEOPLE  for  two 
years,  but  ha\  e  never  written  you  a  let  tor  before. 
I  have  read  all  of  the  stories;  ]  liked  "  Nan"  and 
Jimmy  Krown's  stories  very  much  indeed.  1  am 
ten  years  old.  My  next  birthday  will  be  in  May 
The  time  for  flying  kites  will  soon  be  here,  and' I 
have  already  made  me  a  large  one  I  expect  lo 
have  a  jolly  time  flying  my  kite.  I  am  going  to 

scl I  to  a   nice  lady  teacher.     I  have  a   g 1 

many  studies,  and  am  kept  pretty  busy  during 
the  day.  \oiirfriend,  JIUHIE  S. 

And  this  is  from  Jimmie's  sister : 

I  suppose  you  will  be  very  mneh  surprised  to 
receive  a  letter  from  a  little  girl  'way  down  in 
Tennessee  who  is  not  a  subscriber  to  the  paper 
But  my  brother  takes  it.  and  I  take  gnat  inter- 
e-t  in  hearing  the  pieces  read,  and  especially  the 
letters  from  the  little  girls  and  boys  all  over  the 
Union.  I  am  a  little  girl  six  years  old.  I  have 
just  commenced  to  go  to  school.  I  am  IcainuiL' 
to  read,  but  can  not  write  much,  so  my  sister 
writes  this  for  me  I  have  no  pets,  but  when  I 
am  not  at  school  I  play  with  my  dolls  and  games. 

ALICE  S. 


No.  1. 
No.  2. 


ANSWERS  Til  PIV./I.KS   |\  Xo.  K.3. 
Skating.    P.ase-ball. 

T 

TOP 

TOPAZ 

P  A  T 


B 

CAT 

B   A    I    R   N 

TRY 

N 


R 

L   O  T 
It  u   Y  A  L 


ANNIE  D.— "  Book"  comes  from  "  hoc,"  an  An- 
glo-Saxon word  meaning  a  beech-tree,  the  bark 
of  which  was  at  one  time  in  use  for  writing  pur- 
poses. "Library,"  a  collection  of  books,  is  de- 
rived from  th.e  Latin  word  "  liber."  which  also 
signified  the  inner  rind  or  coating  of  a  tree.  The 
old  Greeks  and  Romans  found  this  convenient 
to  use  as  we  use  paper.  "Scholar."  strange  as 
it  may  seem  to  a  busy  school-girl,  traces  its  pedi- 
gree all  the  way  back  to  ancient  Greece,  and 
comes  from  a  word  meaning  leisure,  which  the 
polite  Athenians  applied  to  "school."  People 
who  had  time  on  their  hands,  and  were  not  in  a 


No.  3.  C'-ore.  S-hovel.  Y  ear  s  tick.  S-hoe.  G-old 
i  oat.  c-iip.  s-hi.  p.jnk.  H-aud.  Fred- 
red-ed. 


No.  4. 


No.  5. 


A  n  E  P  T 
DIVE  K 
E  V  K  1!  Y 
PERIS 
TRYST 

I    V    Y 
II    A    T 


E    N 


A    N 


A 
I) 
E  Y 


D  n 

A    Y 

E 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Etta  H.  Jones.  Dulcie  Ring.  Ralph  Timpson, 
M.T.Roy  Van  Orden.  Kay  F  Hutchinson.  Jesse 
S.  Godine.  Marion  McAlvin,  Marie  L.  Charles  B. 
Jefferson.  Kiltie  Webb,  Joseph  P.  Bolfon.  B.  and 
K.  Wilson.  I'ii--ic  Willow  ami  Poppy.  Leona  Tor- 
rev.  E.  c.  Jenkins.  Alfred  M.  Bloominedale. Philip 
s  \\  csteott.  Arthur  Bancroft.  May  Kinney.  G.  (i. 
Goldsmith.  Winifred  Fitch.  Sam  Selling, 'Jennie 


Tangier,  Dame  Trot.  Rosebud  and  Peony.  Indian 
hurry,  went  to  school  to  hear  the  philosophers  chief.  Geo.  Logist.  Kip  Van  Winkle.  Margaret  El- 
talk  under  the  spreading  shade  of  trees.  "Coin"  i  more.  John  Baxter,  David  McL'oy,  Alex.  McD., 


is  derived  from  the  Latin  ;  it  is  simply  a  piece  of 
metal  stamped.  "Diamond"  comes  from  the 
same  source  as  adamant ;  it  means  something  ex- 


and  Maggie  Swan. 


(For  Exchanges,  see  Zd  and  Zd  pages  of  cover.] 


304 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BREAKERS   AHEAD— WHERE    IS    THE    HEAD? 

SILHOUETTE  CHARADE.— GROCER. 

BY   G.  B.  BARTLETT. 

ANY  number  of  players  can  .joiu  in  this  fascinating  amuse- 
ment. They  are  arranged  in  equal  sides,  each  occupying 
one-half  of  a.  darkened  room,  with  a  cotton  sheet  tightly  stretched 
between  them  like  a  curtain.  This  sheet  is  made  semi-trans- 
parent by  dampening  on  both  sides  with  a  wet  sponge,  and  a 
large  lamp  is  placed  on  the  floor  against  the  wall  on  each  side 
of  the  room.  A  few  caps,  bonnets,  shawls,  hats,  and  coats,  and 
plenty  of  paper  and  pasteboard,  with  scissors  and  sewing  mate- 
vials,  are  near  at  hand,  and  each  leader  has  a  piece  of  board  with 
•which  to  darken  his  lamp  while  the  opposite  side  is  acting.  The 
figures  one,  two,  three,  and  four  are  cut  from  paper  in  Koman 
numerals,  and  are  pinned  on  the  sheet  to  denote  the  number  of 
syllables  in  the  word  ahout  to  be  performed,  and  the  acting  of 
the  syllable  is  always  followed  by  a  representation  of  the  \\  hole 
word.  In  these  scenes  the  sound  of  the  word  is  always  follow  ed, 
without  regard  to  the  spelling,  and  no  one  is  allowed  to  guess 
the  charade  until  the  whole  word  has  been  acted.  The  leader 
of  the  side  which  is  to  act  the  first  charade  calls  out  "Keady," 
and  the  leader  of  the  side  which  is  to  guess  it  darkens  his  lamp 
slowly  by  meant'  of  the  board.  For  example: 

SCKXK  I.  (iuow. — A  table  covered  with  a  cloth  is  placed  near 
the  sheet  on  the  side  occupied  by  the,  performers,  a  small  ilower- 
pot  drops  down  from  above  on  the  table,  a  lovely  maiden  in  a 
huge  poke  bonnet  plants  some  seeds, on  which  the  sun  slowly  rises 
and  pours  his  genial  rays,  this  luminary  being  made  of  a  sieve 
covered  with  cloth,  lighted  by  a  candle,  which  is  drawn  up  by  a 
string  in  the  hands  of  a  boy  who  is  hidden  behind  the  table.  The 
maiden  eagerly  watches  the.  process,  and  occasionally  waters  the 
earth  supposed  to  be  in  the  flower-pot  with  a  sprinkler,  and  also 
fans  it  with  a  huge  palm-leaf  fan;  a  fen  leases  slowly  appear, 
and  gradually  the  plant  grows  until  it  reaches  the  ceiling.  The 
maiden  claps  her  hands  in  rapture,  and  smells  of  the  plant  un- 
til it  grows  above  her  reach,  A\  hen  sin-  begins  to  grow  herself, 
and  continues  to  become  taller  and  taller  until  her  head  touches 
the  ceiling,  w  hen  the  leader  darkens  his  lamp  and  a  dark  curtain 
seems  to  fall  over  the  sheet.  The  plant  is  managed  by  a  boy  be- 
hind the  lable.  who  pushes  a  twig  up  by  means  of  a  long  stick  on 
which  paper  leaves  are  tied.  The  maiden  grows  taller  as  the 
light  is  mo\cd  slowly  toward  her. 

When  the  leader  of  the  acting  side  darkens  his  light  to  show 
that  the  scene  is  over,  both  lights  are  shown  while  the  next  scene 
is  being  prepared. 

Si'icxE  II.  SIR. — A  King  is  seated  on.a  throne  made  by  placing 
an  arm-chair  on  a  table  with  a  foot-rest  and  hassock  before  it 
to  represent  steps,  an  esquire  man-lies  in  and  kneels  on  the  lower 
:.ie|i  of  the  throne.  Two  attendants  enter:  the  first  hands  a 
sword  to  the  King,  bowing  profoundly.  The  King  rises,  strikes 
I  he  kneeling  figure  on  his  shoulder  with  the  flat  side  of  the  sword, 
and  thus  makes  him  Sir  Knight.  The  second  attendant  then 
fastens  the  sword  on  the  side  of  the  newly  made  Sir,  and  with 
great  ceremony  presents  him  with  a  huge  pair  of  spurs.  Having 
placed  a  helmet  on  his  head  and  the  .spurs  on  his  feet,  the  attend- 
ants congratulate  the  knight  by  shaking  hands. and  retreat,  bow- 
ing very  humbly  several  times  to  the  King.  The  Knight  then 


follows  his  attendants,  having  also  taken  a  formal  leave  of  his 
Majesty,  and  the  scene  is  closed  by  darkening  the  light  as  be- 
fore. The  crown  and  sceptre  of  the  King  and  the  spurs  and  hel- 
met of  the  knight  are  easily  made  of  paper  at  a  moment's  notice, 
as  of  course  only  the  shadow  of  1  hese  objects  is  needed. 

GIIOCKK. — A  man  with  a  paper  cap  and  apron  stands  behind 
a  long  counter  dealing  out  groceries  to  eager  buyers.  First  a 
boy  with  a  large  hat  buys  a  salt  fish,  which  Haps  its  tail  and 
hits  him  on  his  ears  as  he  turns  to  carry  it  home.  A  little  girl 
then  buys  some  eggs,  and  is  surprised  to  see  a  chicken  rise  slow- 
ly from  the  covered  basket  in  which  they  hsive  been  placed. 
A  woman  brings  a  can,  and  after  much  hard  bargaining  in  pan- 
tomime buys  a  quart  of  njilk,  which  is  poured  into  the  can; 
but  as  she  turns  away,  the  cover  tlies  oft  and  a  cat's  head  lifts 
itself  from  the  can,  which  she  brings  back  to  the  man,  who 
shows  great  astonishment  at  the  result  of  the  bargain.  These 
effects  are  very  easy  to  produce,  as  only  the  profile  of  these 
various  objects  is  needed,  and  the  chicken  and  cat's  head  are 
already  placed  so  they  can  be  lifted  without  being  seen  by  the 
spectators  on  the  other  side  of  the  sheet.  At  the  end  of  each 
charade  guessing  is  allowed  to  all  the  spectators,  and  the  in- 
correct guesses  are  counted  on  the  side  of  the  actors.  The  spec- 
tators must  then  in  their  turn  act  a  charade  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  at  the  end  of  the  game  the  side  that  has  made  the  few- 
est incorrect  guesses  is  declared  the  victor. 


PUSSY. 

DID  yon  ever  think  why  we  call  the  cat  pim* .'  A  great  many 
\ears  ago  the  people  of  Egypt,  who  have  many  idols,  wor- 
shipped the  cat.  They  thought  she  was  like  the  moon,  be- 
cause she  was  more  active  at  night,  and  because  her  eyes  changed, 
just  as  the  moon  changes,  which  is  sometimes  full  and  sometimes 
only  a  little  bright  crescent,  or  half  moon,  as  \ve  say.  Did  you 
ever  notice  your  pussy's  eyes  to  see  how  the\  change  :'  So  these 
people  made  an  idol  with  the  cat's  head,  and  named  it  1'asht,  the 
same  name  they  gave  to  the  moon,  for  the  word  means  the  /i/<r 
»/'  tin1  moon.  That  word  has  been  changed  to  pas  or  pus,  and  has 
come  at  last  to  be  puss,  the  name  which  almost  every  one  gives 
to  the  cat.  Puss  and  pussy  cat  are  pet  names  for  kitty  every- 
where. Who  ever  thought  of  it  as  given  to  her  thousands  of 
years  ago,  and  that  then  people  bowed  down  and  prayed  to  her? 


TURNING   THE    S-TABLES. 

'Ha  !  ha  !    How  do  you  like  it  yourself,  being  shut  up  nil  alone  in  a  dark 
stable,  with  nothing  but  spiders  and  hay-seed  to  amuse  you?" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


PUBLISHED  i:v    IIAUI'KK  A-    1 1  K<  >T  1 1  KRS,  X  K\V  YORK. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  ITT. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  March  •»,  1883. 


Copyright,  15»:i,  by  HABFKK  A 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


RAISING  THE "  PEARL"— By  James  Otis, 

AUTHOR  or  "Tour  Tn,EK."  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  ''Jin.  STUBBS'S  BROTHEI:,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  III. 
OPEN     PIRACY. 

THE  idea  of  a  boy  as  small  as  Tommy  Tucker  turning 
pirate,  in  the  belief  that  be  could  thereby  better  re- 


venge himself  011  Captain  Sammy,  was  very  funny  to  our 
three  boys,  and  as  they  walked  home  they  had  quite  a 
discussion  as  to  how  long  he  might  continue  his  piratical 
career. 

Mrs.  Evans,  on  being  told  the  story,  did  not  think 
Tommy  was  such  a  dangerous  character  as  to  make  it 
necessary  for  her  to  inform  the  authorities  of  his  where- 
abouts, and,  greatly  to  Dare's  relief,  she  promised  to 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


say  nothing-  about  the  matter.  But  she  did  insist  that  the 
boys  should  not  become  friendly  with  him,  unless  it  was 
with  a  view  to  persuading  him  of  the  evil  and  folly  of  his 
ways. 

Bobby  was  not  in  favor  of  acting  as  missionary  to  Mas- 
ter Tommy,  for  he  was  rather  inclined  to  be  afraid  of  him  ; 
but  Dare  promised  to  try  to  do  the  would-be  pirate  chief- 
tain all  the  good  he  could,  although  he  hardly  thought 
he  could  ett'ectas  much  with  his  tongue  as  Captain  Sammy 
could  with  his  leg. 

That  night,  after  the  question  of  Tommy's  piracy  had 
been  discussed,  the  boys  laid  Captain  Sammy's  offer  before 
Mr.  Evans  more  in  detail  than  they  had  done  before  sup- 
per, and  to  their  great  delight  were  told  that  they  might 
suspend  their  studies  during  the  time  they  were  engaged 
in  raising  the  Pearl,  provided  they  gathered  all  possible 
information  as  to  the  supposed  formation  and  history 
of  the  Everglades.  Mrs.  Evans  also  suggested  that  they 
should  study,  from  such  authorities  as  were  obtainable, 
the  cause  and  formation  of  the  coral  reefs  which  inclosed 
the  State  of  Florida  in  a  net-work  so  dangerous  to  navi- 
gation. 

Such  study  as  that  seemed  but  play,  and  they  were  per- 
fectly willing  to  give  the  required  promises. 

On  the  following  morning  they  were  at  the  scene  of  the 
wreck  nearly  as  soon  as  the  sun  had  peeped  over  the  trees 
at  the  little  town  of  Tampa,  and  they  had  brought  their 
dinner  with  them,  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  obliged 
to  waste  any  time  in  going  back  to  the  hotel  for  some- 
thing to  eat. 

As  yet  they  had  no  idea  how  they  were  to  go  to  work  to 
raise  the  sunken  steamer.  Dare  had  asked  his  father  to 
advise  with  them  as  to  how  they  should  proceed;  but  Mr. 
Evans  had  refused  to  have  anything  to  say  about  the  mat- 
ter. He  said  that,  since  Captain  Sammy  had  made  such 
an  otter  as  he  hail,  it  was  but  right  that  they  should  work 
and  plan  unaided,  for  that  was  the  price  they  were  to  pay 
for  the  use  of  the  boat  after  she  was  afloat. 

It  was  high -water  when  they  arrived  at  the  beach 
opposite  the  point  where  the  1'ctirJ  lay  under  water. 
and  it  seemed  much  more  of  a  task  to  raise  her  than  it 
had  at  low  tide,  when  a  portion  of  her  upper  works  was 
visible. 

Both  Charley  and  Bobby  looked  upon  Dare  as  the  leader 
of  the  enterprise;  therefore,  instead  of  makingany  sugges- 
tions as  to  the  work  on  hand,  they  looked  to  him  for  orders. 

Dare  was  ahnost  at  a  loss  to  know  how  they  should  set 
about  their  task,  even  though  he  had  spoken  so  confi- 
dently the  day  before;  but  he  did  not  care  then  to  ac- 
knowledge that  fact  fully. 

"I  don't  exactly  know  how  we  are  going  to  raise  her," 
he  said,  after  as  long  a  delay  as  he  dared  to  make,  lest  his 
companions  should  discover  how  entirely  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  know  how  to  proceed;  "but  there  is  one  thing  sure, 
and  that  is  we  must  build  some  stout  rafts  which  we  can 
,  anchor  alongside  of  her." 

As  he  said  this  a  very  good  plan  for  raising.the  boat 
presented  itself,  and  he  added: 

"If  we  could  make  rafts  large  and  stout  enough,  we 
could  get  some  chain-cables,  pass  them  under  the  Pearl  at 
low-water,  and  make  them  fast  to  the  rafts.  When  the  tide 
rises,  of  course  the  rafts  would  raise  the  steamer,  and  we 
could  float  her  in  nearer  the  shore,  doing  the  same  thing 
each  day,  until  we  got  her  where  she  would  be  wholly  un- 
covered at  low- water." 

The  plan  seemed  so  simple  that  the  other  boys  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  raising  steamboats  was  the  easiest 
thing  in  life,  and  the  question  of  how  large  the  rafts 
should  be  was  being  discussed  when  Captain  Sammy  was 
seen  stumping  along  the  beach  toward  them. 

"  Well,  boys,  have  yon  got  the  Pmrl  afloat  yet?" 

"  We've  hardly  had  time  for  that  yet.  sir,"  re-plied  Dare; 
"  but  we  shall  do  it." 


Then  Dare  asked  the  little  man  what  he  thought  of  the 
plan  he  had  just  proposed,  and  was  delighted  at  the  hearty 
approval  it  met  with. 

"  I  have  got  some  small  chain-cables  that  will  be  just 
the  thing,  and  you  can  go  to  my  dock  for  them  whenever 
you  are  ready  to  use  them.  Of  course  the  success  of  your 
plan  depends  more  upon  your  raff  than  anything  else,  and 
if  you'll  row  me  over  to  that  little  island  there,  I'll  show 
you  some  trees  that  will  make  excellent  timbers  for  the 
heavier  portions,  although  of  course  it  will  take  you  some 
time  to  get  them  ready  for  use." 

As  he  spoke  Captain  Sammy  pointed  to  a  small  island 
about  two  miles  from  where  they  were  standing',  and  which 
appeared  to  be  covered  with  a  fine  growth  of  heavy 
timber. 

Dare's  idea  had  been  that  they  could  buy  some  thick 
planks  which  would  make  better  rafts  than  any  they  could 
build  of  trunks  of  trees;  but  thinking  Captain  Sammy 
might  have  some  reasons  of  his  own  for  wanting  to  visit 
Dollar  Island,  as  it  was  called,  he  agreed  to  the  plan,  and 
all  started  for  the  little  Captain's  boat. 

Before  Dollar  Island  was  reached  the  boys  found  that 
Captain  Sammy  could  be  quite  a  tyrant  when  he  w;is  on 
the  water,  for  he  kept  them  pulling  at  the  oars,  while  he 
sat  in  the  stern-sheets  and  steered,  much  as  if  they  were  a 
crew  which  were  obliged  to  serve  him. 

But  it  was  not  such  a  remarkably  hard  pull,  after  all, 
and  when  they  stepped  ashore  on  the  beautiful  lilt  le  island 
they  felt  fully  repaid  for  their  work. 

"Now  one  of  you  stay  by  the  boat,  while  the  others 
come  with  me  around  the  shore-,"  said  Captain  Sammy. 
He  placed  the  luncheon  the  boys  had  brought  with  them 
carefully  under  the  stern  seat,  and  then  started  along  the 
shore,  leaving  them  to  follow  as  they  chose. 

Bobby  was  anxious  to  be  left  as  boat-keeper,  a  position 
which  Dare  and  Charley  were  only  too  willing  to  accord 
him;  so  they  started  off  after  the  little  Captain,  while  Bob- 
by curled  himself  up  on  the  bank  where  he  could  watch 
the  boat  and  take  his  ease  at  the  same  ime. 

He  had  been  on  guard  in  this  leisurely  fashion  for  more 
than  an  hour  when  he  was  startled  by  a  sound  from 
among  the  trees  just  behind  him.  and  at  the  same  time 
he  saw  a  little  round  head,  surmounted  by  a  wonderfully 
large  and  gaudily  trimmed  hat,  just  moving  out  from  be- 
hind the  trunk  of  a  tree. 

"  Who's  that?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

"('a plain  Thomas  Tucker,"  was  the  bold  reply,  in  a 
very  thin,  squeaky  voice,  as  the  rather  diminutive  form  of 
the  pirate  chieftain  came  into  view,  closely  followed  by  an- 
other boy  of  about  the  saine  size  and  appearance,  whom 
Bobby  concluded  was  the  pirate  crew.  Ikey  Jones. 

Master  Tucker  still  wore  the  long  coat,  but  he  had  made 
several  additions  to  it.  On  each  shoulder  was  sewn  a 
piece  of  yellow  cloth,  evidently  intended  as  epaulets; 
around  the  waist  was  a  large  piece  of  red  flannel  tied  as  a 
sash,  and  in  this  was  stuck  an  old  pistol  without  a  lock. 
The  hat  was  evidently  the  pirate's  crowning  glory  :  it  had 
several  strips  of  red  and  yellow  cloth  tied  around  it,  with 
long  ends  hanging  down  on  one  side,  while  in  the  gay- 
colored  folds  were  fastened  several,  feathers  that  gave  a 
startling  appearance  to  the  whole  costume. 

The  crew,  as  represented  by  the  meek-looking  person  of 
Ikey  Jones,  wore  no  distinguishing  marks  of  their  bloody 
calling  save  a  leathern  belt  around  the  waist,  in  which 
was  placed  a  not  very  dangerous-looking  table-knife. 

Now  Bobby  was  rather  a  coward,  more  especially  u  inn 
he  was  alone,  and  the  appearance  of  these  two  avowed  pi- 
rates, when  he  thought  his  party  were  the  only  ones  on  the 
island,  rather  frightened  him. 

"Where's  the  old  heathen  gone?"  asked  Master  Tuck- 
er, as  sternly  as  his  thin  voice  would  permit. 

"Who?"  asked  Bobby,  in  surprise. 

"  The  old  heathen— Captain  Sammy  .'" 


MA  I!' 'II   'JO,  1883. 


1 1 A  I II '  K 1 1' S  YOU  X  G  PEOPLE. 


307 


"Hi-'-  somewhere  alony  the  -bore,  with  I 'arc  and  ( 'liar- 
ley.  How  ilitl  yini  get  here  '." 

"Took  an  old  boat  that  would  just  hold  together,  an' 
started  after  you  did." 

Bobby  trembled  with  fear,  for  if  the  piratical  crew  had 
followed  them  so  closely,  they  must  have  had  some  dread- 
tul  motive. 

"Look  here,  now."  said  Tommy,  as  he  and  Tkey  went 
tow  a  nl  (  'a  plain  Sammy"-  h.  .at.  "  li.-re's  m<  an  Jkey  .lones. 
an'  tin-re's  you.  Now  that's  enough  to  make  a  little  pi 
rate's  crew  if  you  say  you'll  come  with  us.  You  shall  be 
the  mate,  an'  bo-s  Ikey  'round  as  much  as  you  want  to. 
Will  you  do  it  .'"  And  Tommy  In-jan  to  pu-h  the  hoat  oil' 
as  thonyh  Ihere  was  no  question  but  that  Hobby  would 
a<-eepl  I  he  oll'rr. 

"  No.  I  won't  :  and  you  mustn't  toiieh  the  hoat.  or  ' 
tain   Sammy  will  he  an.  !    Moh        Hut   liis  coin-aye 

was  not  sullieient  to  admit  of  his  go'my  down  to  the  hoat 
and  pulliny  ln-r  up  on  to  the  beach  ayain. 

"I'll  tell  you  what   I'll  do  if  you'll  come."  said  Tommy 
Tucker,  persuasively,  liaviny  now  launehed  tlie  hoat   until 
she  uas  held  only  by  the  anehor-rope.       "  [key   ha- 
home  every  niyhl  at  seven  o'eloek,  an'  I'll  let  you  go  too. 
so's  you  won't  yel   into  any  trouble  with  your  aunt." 

This  idea  of  beiny  a  pirate  hy  day  and  a  peaceful  citi- 
•/en  hy  night  was  a  new  phase  of  life  to  Hobby,  hut  \i  I  he 
was  noi  pleased  with  it. 

"I  teli  \  on  [  don't  \\ant  to  he  a  pirate."  he  repeated: 
"and  \on  mnsl  pull  the  hoat  up  ayain.  for  ('a]ilain  Sam 
my  will  he  le-re  pretty  soon." 

Tommy  glanced  over  hi-,  slmulder  quickly  to  assure 
him-elf  that  the  little  man  was  not  in  siyht.  and  then  he 
said,  sternly,  while  I  key  Jones  uot  hehind  him  in  order  to 

he  safe  in  Case  I'.ohliy  should  he  made  aie_:r\  : 

"There'';  no  use  talkin".  for  I'm  a  rey'lar  pirate  now. 
an'  you  don't  want  to  fool  'round  much  u  ilh  me.  I  comi 

here  to  yet  this  boat,  an'  to  have  you  fellers  join  me ;  hui 

if  you  won't.  I'll  lake  the   hoat   anyhow,  an'   I'll  SCTVC  you 
out  a\\  fill   if  \  on  I  r.\   to  slop  me." 

"  Hut  it's  stealing  I"  take  her.  and  ue  cali'l  yet  home 
again  if  we  don't,  have  her." 

"  1  can't  help  that,  for  I'm  a  pirate."  uas  the  hrief  re 
ply  of  Master  Tucker,  as  he  motioned  his  crew  I"  i'et  on 
hoard,  and  then  giving  the  hoat  a  vigorous  push,  he  jump 
ed  into  her.  and  the  pirate-  were  atloat. 

It  was  not  until  the  little  craft  uas  at  such  a  distance 
from  the  shore  that  it  was  impossible  to  yet  at  her  that 
Hobby  nad  sullieient  ly  recovered  from  his  fear  and  surprise 
to  run  down  to  the  beach.  There  he  called  implormyh  : 

"Come  hack.  Tommy  !  come  back,  an'  don't  he  so  mean 
as  In  steal  (  'aptain  Sammy's  hoat  !" 

Tommy  paid  no  attention  to  the  appeal.  He  had  come 
out  that  morning  all  equipped  for  his  piratical  work,  and 
he  proceeded  to  business  at  once. 

lie  took  from  his  pockel  the  symbol  of  his  new  calling 
—the  horrible  black  Hay.  which  had  been  made  from  pieces 
of  his  mother's  dress.  The  material,  which  was  about 
one  yard  long  and  half  as  wide,  had  originally  been 
black,  but  was  now  a  sort  of  dingy  green.  In  the  centre 
was  what  had  probably  been  intended  for  a,  skull  and 
cross  hones  made  of  white  cloth,  but  which  really  looked 
like  an  unskillfully  made  jack-o'-lantern  with  the  face 
chalked. 

This  terrible  symbol  of  death  Master  Tucker  tied  to  one 
of  the  oars,  and  planted  it  lirmly  in  the  how  of  the-  boat, 
where  it  hung  as  innocently  as  ever  it  did  on  Mrs.  Tuck- 
er's hack. 

Then  seatiny  himself  in  the  stern-sheets  with  the  tiller- 
ropes  in  his  hands,  the  newly  Hedged  pirate  gave  the 
order  for  his  crew  to  pull  at  the  oars,  and  the  piratical 
craft  slowly  left  the  island,  while  Bobby  stood  on  the 
beach  in  a  state  of  alarm  not  easily  described. 

[l'0  BE    CONTINUED.] 


FELIX  MENDELSSOHN  II A  UTHOLDY. 
i;\  MI;-  u  t  Y  c.  i  ii.i.ti-:. 

ABOUT  the  year  is-.'d  Ferdinand  Hiller.  a  musician  in 
I'.erlin.  u-ed  to  watch  with  interest  the  games  pla\  ed 
by  certain  clever  little  fellows,  led  by  a  particularly  hand- 
some lad  of  ten  years.  This  boy.  whose  name  was  Felix 
Mendelssohn-Bartholdy,*  was  quaintly  dressed,  and  had. 
the  air  of  distinction  which  was  natural  to  the  Mendels- 
sohn family.  He 'Hi, .red  into  ever\  yauie  with  such  spir- 
it and  delight  that  Hiller  was  amazed  to  learn  that  he  was 
a  musical  genius,  whose  compositions  and  performances 
Were  already  knou  n  to  an  intimate  circle  of  friends. 

Mendelssohn's  father  was  a  banker  living  in  the  Leip- 
zigerstrasse,  I'.erlin.  and  Felix,  his  eldest  son,  was  born  in 
1M  I.  He  had  one  In-other  and  two  sisters,  and  never  was 
a  family  circle  more  I  horoiiiihly  happy  and  harmonious. 
Music  was  hiyhh  esteemed  in  the  household,  but  it  was 
a  disappointment  when  Felix  decided  upon  a  musical  ca- 
reer. 1  lou  ever,  the  parents  were  wise  enough  to  see  that 
their  son  possessed  real  genius,  and  so  they  set  to  work  to 
give  him  the  best  possible  education. 

Fi-lix  composed,  as  I  ha\e  -aid.  while  he  was  still  romp- 
ing with  little  playfellows  in  the  Berlin  streets,  and  once  a 

we  i.  his  fat  her  a  Ho  wed  him  to  assemble  certain  yoiiny  mil 

-"  i.i  n- . i  ml  lead  them  through  some  orchestral  work.  One 
of  his  mosl  enthusiastic  friend-  has  'jiven  a  charming  pic- 
ture of  these  "practices"-  |he  yroiip  of  earnest  pel-form 
ers.  the  boy  conductor,  still  wearing  his  childish  costume, 
with  its  round  jacket  and  deep  collar,  standing  on  a  raised 
platform,  baton  in  hand,  solemnly  and  perfectly  directing 
the  players 

Felix's  sister  Fanny  uas  his  special  favorite  and  com 
panion.  She  was  a  brilliant  musician,  and  composed 
readily,  although  with  less  genius  than  Felix.  Several 
of  the  "Sonys  without  Words"  were  written  by  her.  Nev- 
er was  there  the  slightest  jealousy  or  misiindersla  mil  ny 
between  the  t  u  o.  When  Felix  composed  anytliiliy  he 
could  scarcely  wait  to  show  il  to  bis  dear  "  Fance,"  as  he 
used  to  call  her.  Fverythiiiy  the-  two  liked  they  had  to 
share  with  each  other,  yet  the  tuo  younger  ones.  Paul 
and  Kebeeca.  uere  not  shut  out.  Il  uas  a  charming 
(|iiarletle.  and  no  wonder  that  the  friends  of  (he  Mendels- 
sohns  u-ed  to  fear  the  young  people  would  be  spoiled  by 
knowing  only  the  happy,  prosperous  side  of  life. 

Felix  made  a  famous  journey  in  1S21.  With  Zelter. 
bis  old  master,  lie  went  to  Weimar,  where  he  passed  a  fort- 
niL'iit  in  the  house  of  the  poet  (  ioel  lie.  It  was  certainly 
a  memorable  occasion,  and  Felix,  although  only  eleven 
years  of  age.  wrote  the  nicest  lillle  letters  to  his  parents 
and  sister  describing  his  experiences.  From  the  iir.st  of 
these  1  ijiiole: 

'  lie  |Goethe|  does  not  look  like  a  man  of  seventy- 
three;  rather  of  tifty.  After  dinner  Friiulein  Ulrike, 
Fran  von  Goethe's  sister,  asked  him  for  a  kiss,  and  I  fol- 
lowed her  example.  Every  morning-  I  have  a  kiss  from 
the  author  of  F/nint  and  Tl~<  riln'r.  and  every  afternoon 
tuo  kisses  from  fatler  and  friend  Goethe.  Think  of 
that!  In  the  afternoon  I  played  to  Goethe  for  about  two 
hours,  partly  fugues  of  Bach  and  partly  improvisations. 
In  the  evening  they  arranged  a  whist  table,  and  Professor 
Zelter,  who  took  a  hand,  said,  '  Whist  means  that  you  are 
to  hold  your  tongue.'  " 

The  attention  that  he  received  during  this  youthful 
visit  does  not  seem  to  have  touched  Felix's  sweet  nature 
with  anything  like  affectation  or  vanity.  All  his  life  he 
was  simple,  genial,  and  too  thoroughly  a  genius  to  care 
for  praise  in  any  way  that  would  have  clone  him  harm. 
He  wrote  the  overture  to  the  Midsummer  Night'x  Dream, 
and  many  other  now  famous  works,  before  he  was  twen- 


*  Bartholdy  was  a  family  name  which  the  elder  Mendelssohn  adopt- 
ed, but,  except  in  print,  it  was  rarely  used. 


308 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ty,  and  soon  after  began  to  dream  about  his  greatest  work 
— the  oratorio  Elijah. 

Fanny  Mendelssohn's  marriage  did  not  remove  her 
from  the  charmed  family  circle.  Just  back  of  her  fa- 
ther's house  was  a  beautiful  villa  known  as  the  Garden 
House,  and  here  she  and  her  husband,  the  artist  Hensel, 
took  up  their  abode.  Here  she  organized  the  celebrated 
Matinees  of  music,  at  which  the  flower  of  Berlin  musical 
and  aristocratic  society  was  present,  and  where  the  noblest 
compositions  were  performed  week  after  week. 

Felix's  English  journeys  which  he  made  from  time  to 
time  were  full  of  pleasures  both  social  and  musical.  With 
his  dear  friends,  the  Moscheleses,  he  staid  constantly,  and 
in  the  house  many  pictures  and  other  reminders  of  those 
happy  busy  days  when  Felix  and  Moseheles  worked  to- 
gether still  remain.  Moseheles  had  a  fund  of  delightful 
humor,  and  he  and  Felix  seemed  just  fitted  to  draw  out 
that  which  was  most  entertaining  in  each  other. 


FELIX  MKMM;LSSOHX-BAUTIIOI,I>\. 


Sometimes,  after  hard  work.  Mendelssohn  would  come 
into  Madame  Moseheles'  drawing-room,  tired  :md  worn. 
Then  that  ever-ready  friend  knew  just  wliat  should  be 
done.  She  would  insis!  upon  his  lying  down  in  a  dark- 
ened r where  he  would  often  sleep  for  hours.  These 

long  sleeps  were  his  salvation,  for  there  was  in  his  family 
a  disposition  to  sudden  brain  prostration. 

It  was  Mendelssohn's  habit  to  compose  rapidly,  and 
then  to  correct  and  re-correct  some  of  his  best  phrases, 
until  sometimes  Moseheles  would  have  to  insist  upon  his 
friend's  leaving  his  MSS.  further  untouched.  But  Men- 
delssohn was  never  satisfied;  he  would  yield  grumbling- 
ly.  and  declare  he  never  could  write. juxt  what  he  wanted. 
But  to  what  genius  is  any  work  perfect  .' 

Mendelssohn's  wife,  C'ecile,  was  beautiful,  amiable. 
and  sympathetic,  and  she  proved  a,  devoted  companion 
to  him  and  a  most  careful  mother.  When  Mendelssohn 


and  Moseheles  undertook  the  guidance  of  the  Leipsic 
Conservatoire.  Felix's  house  became  a  new  social  and 
artistic  circle,  and  Hiller  has  given  a  graphic  description 
of  it. 

There  was  a  large  dining-room,  with  a  sitting-room  and 
bedrooms  opening  from  it.  To  the  left  was  Felix's  study. 
a  water-color  drawing  of  which  now  hangs  in  Madame 
Moseheles'  London  home.  Here  were  his  piano,  desk,  and 
some  favorite  pictures,  and  the  small  portable  easel  or 
writing  stand,  now  also  in  Madame  Moseheles'  possession, 
which  he  constructed  himself,  and  on  which  he  composed 
most  of  the  Elijah. 

One  evening  a  friend  found  Mendelssohn  seated,  buried 
in  thought,  before  his  Bible.  He  looked  up  with  one  of 
those  sudden  gleams  which  used  to  transfigure  his  whole 
face.  "Listen,"  he  said,  and  then  in  a  voice  full  of  agi- 
tation he  read  that  part  of  the  First  Book  of  Kings  begin- 
ning, "And,  behold,  the  Lord  passed  by."  It  had  in- 
spired him  for  the  Eli  jail. 

Those  few  short  yeai-s  in  Leipsie  must  have  afford- 
ed delightful  memories  for  the  friends  who  flocked  to 
Felix's  house.  Not  only  was  there  constantly  good 
music,  but  on  birthdays  and  other  festive  occasions 
the  Moscheleses  and  Mendelssohns  would  improvise 
most  delightful  entertainments,  into  which  the  great 
artists  entered  with  child-like  enthusiasm.  On  one 
of  these  occasions,  in  which  Joachim,  the  celebrated 
violinist,  took  a  part,  Moseheles  writes  that  "  Meii- 
delssohn  was  sitting  on  a  large  straw  arm-chair, 
which  creaked  under  his  weight  as  he  rocked  to  and 
fro,  and  the  room  echoed  with  his  peals  of  laugh- 
ter." 

Felix  was  at  Frankfort  when  news  was  brought 
him  of  his  sister  Fanny's  sudden  death.  She  had 
been  playing  at  one  of  her  Matinees — her  fingers 
suddenly  dropped  from  the  keys — she  was  carried 
into  an  anteroom,  and  soon  breathed  her  last.  From 
that  time  Felix's  spirits  drooped.  Not  only  did  he 
mourn  his  sister's  loss,  but  her  early  death  seemed 
to  be  prophetic  of  his  own. 

On  the  flth  of  October,  1847.  he  composed  his  last 
work,  "The  Night  Song."  That  same  day  he  came 
to  see  the  Moscheleses,  walking  slowly  through  their 
garden,  and  then  going  out  with  his  friends  for  a 
stroll,  during  which  he  talked  of  Cecile  and  her  com- 
ing birthday.  From  this  he  went  to  the  home  of 
an  intimate  friend — Fran  Frege.  There  he  attempt- 
ed some  music,  but  was  forced  to  give  it  up.  He 
went  home,  and  a  little  while  after  his  wife  found 
him  pale  and  cold  upon  the  sofa.  The  next  day  the 
symptoms  of  brain  trouble  began,  and  on  November 
4, 1847,  he  expired,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight  years. 

It  has  been  given  to  few  human  beings  to  pass  a 
life  so  unclouded  by  care  or  sadness,  so  full  of  love 
and  sympathy  and  the  joys  of  success,  as  Felix  Men- 
delssohn's. In  the  thirty-eight  years  of  his  life  In- 
included  more  work  and  more  simple  joy  than  many  who 
live  beyond  the  allotted  threescore  years  and  ten.  and  it  is 
a  relief  to  turn  from  sad  lives  such  as  Mozart's,  or  Weber's. 
or  even  Beethoven's,  to  one  like  his.  Every!  him;-  sweel 
everything  that  was  tinged  with  the  sadness  which  comes 
over  any  artistic  spirit  you  can  find  in  his  "Songs  without 
Words";  everything  grand  and  sublime  in  his  oratorios 
of  Elijah  and  St.  Paul.  When  he  lay  dead  his  earliest 
intimate  friend,  Edward  Devrieut,  tells  us  that  he  seemed 
to  be  buried  in  flowers,  for  to  his  bier  his  friends  brought 
everything  that  was  rare  and  fragrant  in  that  November 
season.  He  looked,  Devrieut  said,  once  more  as  he  had 
looked  when  a  boy.  Devrient,  who  had  been  his  tender 
est  companion,  stood  touching  his  brow  for  the  last  time, 
and  of  that  moment  he  writes;  "The  span  of  time  in  my 
remembrance  inclosed  the  whole  of  happy  youth  in  one 
lerfecl  indelible  thought." 


MAKCII  20,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


309 


A  NIGHT   IX   A  SUGAR 
CAMP. 

T1V  ADA   C.  STiimiAIIIl. 

>  I  (I'll  eyes  looked  ea- 
gerlv  ;ii  Nate  as 
In-  cam"  bursting 
through  the  kitchen 
ill  M  ii'. 

"   111.     liny--,    cloll'l 
V  e.wallt    lo   go    into    I  "ll 

<•]'-  Xeli  1  la^kin's  sugar 

camp  'long  »'  

It  was  on  a.  Friday 
morning.  The  TV  lei- 
twins.  Will  and  Win. 
were  in  their  mother's 
kitchen  eating  a  lunch 
eon.  hi -can. -(•  tliey  had 
Lj-oue  out  coastine;  mi 
I  he  crust  verv  earl  v  . 
and  had  not  returned 
in  se.iMin  to  break  I'a-t 

with   the   family.      Both    looked   toward   the   door   at    the 

same  minute, exclaiming,  with  great  delight. 

"Oh,  Nate!  of  course  we  do,  if  mother  '11  let  ns." 

"  I  know  she  will."  cried  \Vin.  excilcdly.  and  he  |iruceed 

ed  to  entity  the  contents  oi'  the  cream  jug  into  the  cotl'ee 

pot.        'There!   now  see  what    I've  done.      (  'oine  right    in. 

Nate  :    we'll  he  ready  in  a  jitl'y." 

Nate  complied,  grinning  broadl  v  .      lie  was  a   ]on<j-.  lank 

youth.    verv    awkward,  and    verv    "ood     natnred,  and    the 

Tyler  hoys  were  his  especial  ravni-iles. 

"I  lav  01 1 1  to  stop  overnight,"  said  he.      "  I  'm-le  Xeb  is 
a-goin'  to  sugar  oil'." 

That  was  the  signal  I'or  another  mil  hurst  of  enthusiasm, 
which   continued  until  the  ho\  s  had  Mulshed  their  lunch 
eon.      They  had  only  recently  removed  from  the  city,  and 
their  cars   and    eves  were    open   wide    lo    the    new  and    de- 
lightful country  sights  and  sounds. 

"  Isn't,  it  jolly  .'" 

"  How  do  yon  sugar  oil' 

"  I  never  had  any  real  ma|)|e  sugar     only  the  store  kind, 
in  little  scalloped  cakes,  thin  as  a  wafer.'' 

"  And  sanded  to  hoot." 

"  Will  used  to  think  they  grew  on  maple  tree-,,  like  ap 
liles,"  said  Win,  with  a  sly  glance  at  his  hrother. 

Nate   laughed.      "  Sho,  now,  he  didn't!      Ho!   ho!   ho! 
ho!" 

"As  if  apples  grew  on  maple-trees!"  retorted  Will,  with 
a.  great  deal  of  scorn.      "Anyhow,! — 

"  He's  afraid  of  sheep,  too — of  our  old  Billy,"  said  Win, 
teasingly. 

But  Nate,  fearing  a  storm,  prudently  interposed.      "  The 
crust's   a-thawiii',   boys,"   said 
he;    "an'  you'd  best  ask  your 
mother  "bout  goinV 

Mrs.  Tyler  said,  "Yes,  if 
Nate  would  look  out  for  them" 
— a  suggestion  which  the  boys 
secretly  resented;  for.  weren't 
they  nearly  as  large  as  Nate, 
and  within  two  or  three  years 
of  being  as  old  ?  But  they 
were  too  much  delighted  at 
the  prospect  before  them  to  re- 
main long  under  a  cloud,  and. 
after  all,  the  fact  that  Nate  was 
born  and  brought  vip  in  the 
country  ought  to  count  for 
something. 

So  they  set  off,  Nate  with 
Win  and  Will,  who  carried  a. 


huge  well-filled  lunch  basket  between  them;  and  they 
went  blithely  across  the  fields  and  over  the  river  and 
through  the  pine  woods,  to  Uncle  Zebuhm  Haskin's  sugar 
orchard.  The  sugar  season,  that  delightful  time  of  frosty 
nights  and  crusty  mornings  anil  sunny  melting  days,  was 
drawing  to  a  close.  At  tin-  same  time  winter  had  not 
lost  his  power  as  yet,  and  a  thick  shower  of  snow-flakes 
was  coming  dou  n  as  the  box  s  reached  the  camp. 

Uncle  Zeb  made  his  sugar  in  a  very  old-fashioned  way. 
1  Ii'i-e  \\  as  no  neat  sugar  house  \\  ith  its  arches  of  brick  and 
patent  evaporators;  instead,  the  lu.ys  saw  a  great  iron 
kettle  suingini!1  over  a  bla/.ing  lire  ill  the  open  air.  and 
directly  alongside  a  little  hut,  built  of  the  odds  and  ends 
of  any  convenient  material.  The  trees  for  some  dista  nee 
around  were  tapped,  and  the  sap  collected  in  huge  iron 
3,  which  were  brought  to  the  camp  oil  a  sled  drau  n 
by  Uncle  Xeb's  stout  team  of  horses,  Jerry  and  Dick. 

The  old  man  made  his  young  visitors  heartily  welcome. 

"  I'm  right  down  glad  to  see  ye."  said  he.  shaking  hands 
all  around.  "  No-.v  make  \  er^elves  u,  hum.  in  the  shanty 
and  out  on  "t." 

There  uas  no  need  that  I'ncle  Xeb  should  tell  (hem  to 
do  so,  since  \\lio  ever  knew  three  wide-awake  boys  that 
would  fail  to  make  themselves  at  home  under  such  happy 
circumslaiices  '.  Still  it  showed  a  hospitable  intention, 
and  put  them  at  once  at  their  ease. 

Thev  enjoyed  themselves  thoroughly  exploring  the 
camp  and  helping  I'ncle  Xeb  as  he  placed  log  after  log  on 

the  great  bla/.ing  lire.      Tl dor  of  the  syrup  bubbling  in 

Ihe    big   kettle    was    very    appetizing,  and   not    many    mo- 
ments   had    passed    before    the   boys   had   made    for  them 
selves   ladles  of  wood,  which  they  dipped   into  the  svrup, 
trying  it  from  lime  to  time  on  some  snow  to  see  if  it  were 
boiled  enough  for  candy. 

It  required  a  great  deal  of  trying,  and  by  the  time  it  was 
quite  done  I  he  hoys  had  already  eaten  all  they  could.  But 
they  helped  I'ncle  Xebulun  lift  the  kettle  from  the  fire, 
and  then  stood  around  to  watch  him  stir  the  sweet  mass 
until  it  began  to  grow  thick  and  grainy,  much  like  hasty- 
pudding;  and  then  they  helped  him  again  to  dip  it  out 
into  birch  bark  boxes  pinned  together  at  the  corners  \\ith 
little  bits  of  wood.  ll  was great  sport  for  Will  and  Will  ; 
but  Nate,  who  had  watched  the  operation  many  times  be- 
fore, thought  it  a  very  trivial  all'air  indeed,  and  would 
much  rather  have  been  playing  at  snow-balling,  or  firing 
at  a  mark  with  Uncle  Xeb's  old  musket,  that  was  standing 
ill  a  corner  of  the  hut— a.  sport  which  Ihe  boys  practiced 
at  pleasure  during  the  afternoon. 

It  was  while  they  were  silting  around  the  fire  eating 
their  evening  meal,  and  drinking  maple  sap  from  birch- 
bark  dippers,  that  Uncle  Xeh  said,  quite  as  a  matter  of  course, 
"  I  guess  I'll  take  a  run  out  to  the  store,  boys;  I'm  all  out 
o'  terbacker." 

Will  and  Win  looked  at  each  other:  somehow  the  pros- 


BRINGING    THE    SYRUP    To    CAMP. 


310 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


pect  of  remaining  all  night  there  in  the  woods  was  not  so 
pleasing  as  it  had  seemed  to  them  in  the  morning.  The 
air  had  grown  very  chilly  with  the  going  down  of  the  sun. 
and  the  great  trees  looked  lonesome  and  ghost-like,  hold- 
ing their  skeleton  arms  against  the  pale  yellow  sky.  Dusk 
was  closing  around  them,  and  the  woods  were  full  of 
shadows. 

"I — I  don't  believe  but  what  we'd  better  go  too, ''said 
Will,  clearing  his  throat  with  an  effort. 

''Bless  ye,"  said  Uncle  Zeb,  "you  couldn't  git  there. 
I've  got  to  snow-shoe  it.  I'll  be  backconsider'ble  airly  in 
the  morn  in'." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  The  three  boys 
watched  the  old  man  fasten  the  unwieldy  snow-shoes  upon 
his  feet,  and  they  strained  their  eyes  in  the  direction  he 
had  taken  long  after  he  had  disappeared  among  the  trees. 
Over  the  Tyler  boys  at  least  there  crept  a  feeling  of  utter 
loneliness,  and  they  were  conscious  of  a  queer  uncomfort- 
able swelling  in  their  throats.  Even  Nate,  who  was  four- 
teen years  old,  shivered  a  little,  it  had  become  so  very 
cool. 

''Say  we  go  in  and  light  up,"  he  suggested.  "  Uncle 
Zeb's  got  some  candles." 

So  into  the  little  hut  they  went,  and  having  found  a 
candle  in  a  candlestick  made  of  a  potato,  they  lighted  it 
and  sat  down  and  looked  at  each  other.  The  stillness  was 
almost  painful.  Away  off  in  the  woods  an  owl  hooted 
mournfully,  and  once,  when  some  bits  of  icy  snow  rattled 
down  the  roof,  the  boys  started,  and  each  one  of  them 
looked  behind  him. 

"  I'm  a-goin'  to  load  up  the  musket,"  said  Nate.  "Sonic 
kind  of  a  wild  critter  might  come  prowlin'  round  in  the 
night;  no  know-in1. " 

They  all  felt  very  solemn  when  this  preparation  for  de- 
fense was  completed,  and  the  musket,  well  loaded  with 
powder  and  ball,  placed  again  in  its  corner;  and  each  of 
them  went  more  than  once  to  the  little  window  in  the 
front  of  the  cabin  and  looked  out.  The  snow  had  stopped 
falling  long  ago,  and  the  moon  had  come  up  above  the 
tops  of  the  trees,  so  that  the  scene  without  was  flooded 
with  the  silvery  light,  and  made  the  interior  seem  all 
the  more  dismal  by  comparison.  The  candle  flickered 
in  the  air  which  drew  through  a  broken  window-pane, 
and  altogether  the  boys  felt  very,  very  cheerless  and 
alone. 

"Hadn't  we  best  turn  in,1' asked  Nate,  after  a  little, 
11  so  as  to  be  up  early — before  Uncle  Zeb  gets  here  '." 

His  companions  readily  agreed  to  this  proposition,  and 
presently  the  three  slipped  into  Uncle  Zeb's  bunk.  It  was 
not  at  all  a  downy  couch — only  a  little  shake-down  of 
boughs  spread  with  one  or  two  blankets;  but  the  boys 
were  very  tired,  and  the  spicy  fragrance  of  the  cedar  was 
very  soothing. 

Will  could  not  tell  how  long  he  had  slept,  when  he 
awoke  with  a  sudden  start  and  a  feeling  of  fright  which 
seemed  to  have  come  from  his  dreams. 

For  an  instant  he  could  not  remember  where-  he.  was, 
everything  looked  so  strange  and  out  of  place  to  him. 
Then  he  heard  a  sound  which  seemed  to  have  mingled  in 
his  dreams — a  steady  solid  crunch  on  the  crusted  snowT 
outside,  as  of  some  heavy  body  moving  slowly  along. 
Will's  first  thought  was  that  it  was  morning,  and  that 
Uncle  Zeb  had  come.  Then  he  waited  a  moment,  and 
felt  sure  it  could  not  be  so. 

The  moon  shone  broadly  in  through  the  window,  mak- 
ing the  cabin  almost  as  light  as  day.  Will  lifted  his  head 
and  listened  a  very  long  time,  as  it  seemed  to  him.  before 
he  tried  to  wake.  Nate,  who  was  sleeping  so  soundly  that 
a  whisper  close  in  his  ear,  accompanied  by  a  good  shake, 
failed  to  arouse  him.  Finding  that  this  was  so,  Will  said 
to  himself  that  it  would  be  a  pity  to  disturb  him  or  his 
brother  at  least  until  lie  had  made  sonic  effort  on  his  own 
account  to  discover  the  cause  for  his  alarm.  He  knew  if 


he  should  hoax  them  in  his  fear,  they  would  laugh  at  him 
unmercifully  in  the  morning,  and  no  boy  cares  to  be 
laughed  at.  So  he  stepped  cautiously  out  of  the  bunk  and 
up  to  the  window  to  reconnoitre.  The  moon  was  descend- 
ing the  western  sky,  and  by  its  light  Will  saw,  standing 
beside  the  kettle  in  which  Uncle  Zeb  had  sugared  off.  a 
great  black  unwieldy  creature,  with  a  stubby  tail,  short 
ears,  and  a  snub  nose. 

It  was  a  bear. 

He  was  eating  the  crumbly  bits  of  sugar  from  the  sides 
of  the  kettle ;  and  even  while  Will  stood  gazing  out  at  him 
motionless  with  terror  and  delight  he  put  his  nose  in  the 
air  and  lumbered  a  step  or  two  backward,  as  if  scenting 
danger. 

There  was  no  time  for  thought.  Will — though  after- 
ward he  wondered  how  he  had  the  courage  to  do  it. 
trembling  with  fear  and  excitement  as  he  was — snatch- 
ed the  old  musket,  pointed  it  out  through  the  broken 
window-pane,  and  fired.  Almost  at  the  instant  of  the 
discharge  there  was  a  hoarse  growl  from  the  bear,  as  he 
turned  and  went  plunging  away  through  the  frozen  snow, 
while  a  loud  cry  of  dismay  came  from  the  two  boys  in  the 
bunk. 

It  was  certainly  a  time  of  great  excitement;  and  when 
Will  had  told  his  story,  which  he  did  with  a  great  many 
breathless  interruptions,  the  three  boys  went  in  a  body 
to  the  window,  keeping  tight  hold  of  each  other  all  the 
while. 

But  everything  was  silent  out-of-doors,  and  finally  they 
sat  down  together  to  wait  for  daylight.  Nate  first  reload- 
ing the  musket  that  had  done  such  good  service.  They 
said  they  would  not  shut  their  eyes  again,  but  such  tired 
eyes  could  not  be  trusted,  and  before  a  half-hour  had  passed 
they  had  stretched  themselves  upon  their  bed  of  boughs 
and  were  fast  asleep. 

They  were  still  asleep  when  Uncle  Zeb  came  in  the 
morning,  early,  as  he  had  promised,  and  it  was  his  cheery 
voice  at  the  door  that  awakened  them.  You  may  ima- 
gine what  a  welcome  they  gave  him,  and  with  what 
breathless  eagerness  the  story  of  the  night  was  poured 
into  his  ears. 

"Now  do  stop  an'  git  yer  breath,"  urged  the  old  man. 
though  he  himself  was  visibly  excited.  " 'Twouldu't 
be  a  mite  surprisin'  ef  there  were  a  bar  'round.  He's  ben 
here  once  afore,  quite  a  spell  ago.  Le's  go  V  take  a 
look." 

He  went  out,  followed  closely  by  the  boys,  and,  in  the 
soft  half-light  that  precedes  the  dawn,  together  they  scanned 
the  tracks  around  the  big  kettle.  .  There  were  spots  of 
blood  on  the  snow. 

"You  techecl  him,  anyhow,"  said  Uncle  Zeb  to  Will, 
whose  heart  was  almost  standing  still,  "an" — an' — why, 
boy,"  he  cried,  excitedly,  "  ye've  killed  the  critter!  Look 
'er  there!" 

It  was  quite  true.  Scarcely  half  a  dozen  rods  away  lay 
the  huge  black- motionless  bulk. 

"Had — hadn't  we  better  take  the  gun,  sir  ?"  asked  Will, 
as  Uncle  Zeb  stepped  briskly  forward.  "Is— is  inavbe 
he  isn't  quite  dead." 

"Dead's  a   door  nail,"  declared   Uncle  Zeb  presently, 
amid  a  storm  of  excited  exclamations.      " 'Twas  the  eril 
ter's  ugliness  as  kerned  him  off.      Pretty  well  done  for  a 
t  we]  ve-yeai'-old !     Pretty — well—done !" 

But  Will  with  many  blushes  protested  against  receiving 
so  much  praise.  "  I  didn't  mean  to,  you  know."  said  he. 
"I  didn't  think  I'd  kill  him.  I  don't  know  what  made 
me  shoot;  but  somehow  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"I  won't  say  maple  sugar  on  a  tree  again,  old  chap." 
laughed  Win,  "nor  anything  about  sheep.  But  I  just 
wish  I'd  been  the  one  to  wake  up." 

"You  better  not,"  said  Nate  "Hooray  for  hooray. 
and  hooray  for  Will  I" 

And  the  woods  echoed. 


MAIirll   -i«,  1883. 


-s  vorxa  PEOPLE. 


THE  MAHNETK'   NEEDLE 

TMIE  magnetic  needle  i-  one  <•(  the  most  sensitive  and 
delicate  of  instruments,  li  quivers  like'  tin-  aspen  leaf 
at.  the  approach  of  any  object  that  repels  or  attract-  it.  It 
shake*  with  every  tremor  of  the  earth  or  sea.  It  is  seldom 
at  rest:  almost  as  if  alive.it  wanders  around  its  limited 
circle.  It  seems  to  have  its  likes  and  dislikes,  its  feelim- 
and  its  impulses.  Sometime-  a  magnetic  storm  sweeps 
over  it.  and  drives  it  from  it-  course.  Sometime-  lt  seems  j 

roused  to  a  wild  excitement   by  son pposing   influence. 

Hut  soon  again  rest  comes,  and  the  delicate,  feeble  needle 
points  forever  to  the  north. 

I'poii  its  lirmiiess  ami  unchangeable  nature  rest  tin- 
most  important  human  atl'airs.  ]t  guides  the  steamers 
that  crOSS  (he  Atlantic,  and  brings  them  safch  to  their 
harhor.  Without  this  feeble  in-trumeiit  the  Alnslcn  would 
never  venture  to  rush  over  the  ocean  in  cloud,  mist,  or 
night,  or  the  Sfi-ritt  reach  her  destined  aim.  It  leads  the 
gri  :,t  h.-t  of  immigrants  safely  to  the  land  of  p|eni\  .  it 
carries  hack"  the  crops  of  America  to  feed  the  people  of 

Europe.       Without    it   < 'ol hus  could   never   have  found 

the  New  World,  and  centuries  might  have  passed  before 
the  tWO  hemispheres  Were  united.  Its  delicate  -mdalice 
leads  the  explorer  through  tropical  fore-l-  and  over  the 
polar  ice. 

No  one  can  tell  when  the  magnetic  needle  lirsl  came  in 
use.  It  was  once  thought  that  it  was  invented  at  Amalli. 
a  famous  sea  port  of  hah.  about  the  year  i:!i>','.  hut  it  was 
known  in  Kurope  long  liel'ore.  A  French  poet .  ( iu\  ot . 
a  hoi  it  1  1.10.  sail  got' the  \vonderful  need  let  hat  always  point 
ed  to  the  north  star  when  the  sea  was  dark  and  gloomy. 
It  was  known  in  Sweden  in  I'J.lo.  It  seems  to  have  come 
first  from  Holland.  Hut  the  (  Ihinese  assert  that  the.\  ii-ed 
the  mariner's  compass  liel'ore  the  tenth  century,  and  it 

niav  have  lieeii   brought   to  Kurope  fi lh.it   singularly 

inventive  ]ieo]>le. 

The  \\'e-tern  races  took  up  the  invention,  and  have 
made  if  the  foundation  of  a  new  science.  Thc\  have  huilt 
upon  the  magnetic  needle  the  science  of  electro-magnet- 
ism. Magnetism  not  only  guides  great  steamers  over  the 
seas  and  explorers  by  land  ;  its  delicate  v Mirations  are  made 
to  carr\  knowledge  around  the  world,  and  enahle  nations 
to  converse  with  each  other,  however  far  apart.  The  sys- 
tem of  electric  telegraphs  depends  upon  the  peculiar  pro 
pertics  of  the  magnet.  The  strange,  mysterious  pouer 
thai  was  lirsl  unfolded  in  some  Eastern  city  hy  the  shores 
of  the  Pacific  has  heen  turned  to  new  uses.  It  lights  our 
streets,  conveys  messages,  writes,  and  may  one  day  drive 
the  rail-car  and  conduct  most  of  the  operations  of  labor. 
The  steam  engine  has  found  a  rival. 

The  needle  does  not  always  point  to  the  pole.  Even 
(.'olnmhus  discovered  and  was  alarmed  by  its  variations. 
It  varies;  it  changes.  And  careful  observers  in  all  parts 
of  the  earth  have  studied  its  peculiarities,  and  endeavored 
to  account  for  them.  But  in  vain:  no  one  can  explain 
the  mystery  of  the  needle.  Scientilic  men  have  offered 
probable  theories;  careful  observers  have  noted  its  changes 
in  different  latitudes  and  places.  It  is  still  everywhere 
the  same  delicate,  restless,  variable  tiling  that  seems  often 
half  alive.  But  with  all  its  variations  it  is  yet  siilliciently 
Irue  to  alt'ord  a  safe  guidance.  It  returns  from  every  vi- 
bration to  point  again  to  the  north.  It.  is  (he  symbol  ol 
constancy  in  all  its  changes. 


TED  AND  THE  CHICKEN-POX. 

Ted  was  told  by  the  family  doctor  that  he 
had  the  "chicken-pox,"  and  couldn't  go  to  the  par- 
ty given,  iu  honor  of  Dick  Swintoii's  little  sister's  eighth 
birthday,  where  there  was  going  to  be  a  magic'  lantern,  and 
ices  for  supper  in  the  shape  of  all  sorts  of  funny  little  birds 


and  beasts  and  fishes,  and  German  mottoes  with  full  suits 
of  uniform  and  all  manner  of  other  things  inside,  made  up 
into  little  bundles,  he  was  just  as  unhappy  as  lie  could  be. 

"  1  hate  the  chicken  pox."  said  Ted. 

Just  at  this  moment  Aunt  Lucv  came  in. 

"Why.  Ted:" 

In  about  half  a  minute  Ted.  big  hoy  though  he  was. 
found  himself  in  Aunt  Lucy's  hi]). 

"  Hut.  Ted."  finished  up  Aunt  Lucy,  after  having  allow- 
ed that  it  was  just  "too  awfully  awful,  and  those  other  fel- 
lou-  getting  all  the  things,  and  me  home  here,  don't  you 
know  :"  "\\lien  I  was  six  years  old  I  had  the  chicken-pox, 
and  1  had  a  perfectly  splendid  time." 

"  A  w.  n i  ah."  said  Ted. 

'•  Hut   I  did." 

Then  Aunt  Lucy  smoothed  Ted's  hair,  which  was  just 
one-quarter  of  an  inch  long,  buttoned  up  his  jacket,  fished 
tin-  end  of  his  collar  from  somewhere  down  his  neck,  and 
began : 

"  It  was  one  Sunday  after  dinner,  and  the  lirst  1  knew 
of  it  was  hearing  my  mother  say  she  wanted  a  lire  made  in 

the  l\ed  lit i.  for  Lucy  had  chicken-pox,  ami  must  be 

kept  a\\ay  from  the  ol  her  children. 

"So  1  went  to  the  lied  Room,  w  here  everything  was  as 
comfortable  as  possible,  and  where,  for  about  a  week,  I 
had  a  perfectly  delightful  time. 

"For  one  thing  I  had  my  best  doll  t<>  play  with  the 
whole  time,  and  her  bed  right  near  mine,  and  then 
my  mother  staid  with  me  nearly  all  day.  and  I  had  the 
cop\  of  Moore's  poems  off  the  parlor  table  whenever  1 
wanted  it.  and  my  sister  read  aloud  '  Lalla  Hookh.'  That 
is  a  beautiful  story,  told  in  poetry,  about  a  Princess  \\  ho 
went  on  a  long  journey  on  camel  back.  Altogether  I 
liked  having  the  chicken  -pox.  My  brother  and  sister  used 
to  come  and  shout  through  the  key-hole,  and  I'd  shout 
back.  They  were  very  anxious  to  know  if  1  would  gel 
marks  on  my  face',  and  they  would  say.  'Are  you  pock- 
marked '.'  and  I  \\ould  scream  back.  'Not  yet.'  I  think 
we  were  all  rather  disappointed  that  1  came  out  of  the 
I  led  K'ooin  no  worse  than  1  went  in. 

"Then  I  knew  a  little  boy  who  lived  opposite.  His 
name  uas  Towsey.  His  grandfather  had  fought  in  the 
Revolution,  and  Towsey  had  his  epaulets  and  his  sword 
and  cap.  Well,  to  amuse  me.  Towsey  would  come  to  the 
window  lirst  with  the  epaulets  on,  then  with  the  cap, 
then  with  the  sword,  which  he  would  brandish  about, 
making  believe  he  was  lighting.  I  would  clap  m\  hands 
at  whichever  I  liked  best.  Then  1  would  show  him  my 
doll,  first  dressed  one  wa  \  .  I  hen  a  not  her.  and  Towsey  would 
only  laugh,  because  lie  was  a  boy.  and  I  suppose  he  didn't 
like  dolls.  (  ine  day  he  painted  his  face  like  an  Indian. 
and  came  and  danced  before  the  window,  and  I  danced 
back.  1  wonder  what  any  one  would  have  thought 
passing  through  Thirty  -  fourth  Street  to  see  the  two 
windows. 

"  When  I  got  better.  Towsey  sent  me  a  candy  basket  with 
a  dove  in  it.  I  regret  to  say  my  little  sister  and  I  resolved 
not  to  eat  the  basket  :  but  we  each  used  to  go  and  take  a 
little  kind  of  lick  of  it  once  in  a  while,  until  one  day 
\ve  found  that  it  had  begun  to  disappear.  I  am  sure 
you  and  May  wouldn't  do  that  if  you  had  chicken-pox 
ever  so ! 

"On  Sunday  I  spent  the  day  at  such  a  funny  old  house. 
The  little  boy  of  the  family  was  ahout  your  age,  and  just 
think',  his  grandfathers  have  lived  two  hundred  years  in 
that  same  house.  It  has  a  great  big  hall,  and  a  big  stair- 
case, and  rooms  with  dee])  fire-places  and  wainscoted 
walls.  And  the  drawing-room  furniture  came  from  the 
court  of  Louis  XIV.  Do  you  know  about  him,  Ted  t 
The  house  was  an  old  colonial  manor — your  governess 
will  tell  you  what  that  means.  After  dinner  the  little 
boy  read  aloud  from  ail  interesting  story-book,  which  we 
all  found  very  pleasant." 


312 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


KITH    AXI)    KIN     AM)    K1SM-1- 


All  this  time  Ted  had  been  listening  with  his  eyes  and 
mouth  wide  open. 

"Now,  Aunt  Lu,  I  don't  think  that  was  so  much  fun. 
I'd  a  great  deal  rather  have  gone  to  Dick  Swinton's ;  and 
just  think!  those  ices,  and  they  say  that  in  the  mottoes 
there's  just  the  most  wonderful  things,  and  you  pull  "em. 
and  they  go  snap!  and,  o — o — o — oh!  oh!  oh!" 

Just  at  this  moment  Aunt  Mary  came  in. 

"Why.  Ted!" 

Before  he  knew  it  he  was  in  Aunt  Mary's  lap. 

"Just  let  me  tell  you  what  a  time  I've  been  having 
among  the  shops.  You  know  the  windows  are  all  full  of 
pretty  things  for  Easter.  There  are  beautiful  picture 
cards,  flowers  arranged  in  all  kinds  of  lovely  ways,  and 
eggs  of  all  sizes  daintily  colored  and  ornamented  with 
beautiful  designs  for  people  to  exchange  as  gifts  on  the 
great  day  that  is  so  near. 

"I  felt  so  sorry  for  two  poor  little  children  who  came 
to  these  windows  just  to  look,  for  they  knew  they  couldn't 
buy  any  presents.  I  began  to  wonder  what  they  would 
choose.  Two  years  ago  I  had  such  fun  at  Easter.  T  cap- 
tured two  poor  little  children  in  London  on  Easter-eve, 
and  gave  them  a  good  dinner.  While  they  were  eating 


I  asked  them  what  they 
would  like  best  to  buy  for 
Ka-ter.  Now  could  you 
believe  that  they  were  too 
ignorant  to  know  why  wo 
celebrate  this  wonderful 
dav.  or  what  happened  to 
make  us  regard  it  as  one 
of  the  most  sacred  days  of 
all  the  year  ? 

"I  told  them  the  mar- 
vellous story,  and  then  I 
to(  >k  them  out  to  buy  some- 
thing, so  that  they  might, 
remember  that  Easter  and 
what  I  had  told  them  of 
I  lie  wonders  of  the  Resur- 
rection, when  the  Saviour 
of  the  world  arose  from 
the  dead. 

"What  do  you  suppose 
the  little  girl  wanted  to 

buy?    'A  pair  of  kid  gloves.' 

( >nly  think!  when  she  had 
scarcely  any  clothes! 

"We  went  into  a  shop 
and  bought  the  gloves  and 
a  nice  shawl,  and  the  boy 
bought  woollen  gloves  and 
a  muffler.  After  this  I  no- 
ticed  she  looked  very  sad, 
and  I  asked  her  what  was 
the  matter,  and  she  said  be- 
cause  'mother  hasn't  any- 
thing.' So  I  asked  her 
what  her  mother  would 
like  best,  and  she  said  her 
mother  had  consumption, 
and  would  like  something 
warm  :  so  we  bought  a 
knitted  wool  jacket  with 
long  sleeves. 

"You  never  in  all  your 
life  saw  such  happy  chil- 
dren. Just  think!  they  had 
•iirrer  been  told  about  East- 
er, and  every  year  had  seen 
the  stores  full  of  things, 
and  happy  -looking  chil- 
dren going  here  and  there 

in  carriages  with  warm  clothing  on  to  make  their  pur- 
chases. A  kind  gentleman  I  knew  sent  the  mother  and 
children  a  nice  dinner,  and  I  am  sure  they  enjoyed  it  very 
much." 

Just  at  this  moment  Ted's  mamma  came  in.  "How's 
my  boy  '." 

"<)li.  dear,  dear!"  wept  Ted.  "I  ain't  anyhow.  Aunt 
Lucy  and  Aunt  Mary  have  been  here  talking  to  me:  I 
think  it's  what  papa  calls  'diverting  my  mind.'  But  I 
want  to  go  to  the  party,  and  I  don't  like  the  chicken-pox, 
and  I  never,  never,  never  will." 

Now  I  might  preach  all  you  little  folk  a  sermon  on 
this  text,  and  tell  you  that  Ted  ought  to  have  been  more 
patient,  and  grateful  for  what  Aunt  Lucy  and  Aunt 
Mary  had  done  to  "divert  his  mind"  from  the  troubles  of 
chicken-pox.  But  I  am  not  going  to  do  so.  I  have  only 
told  you  about  Ted  because  some  of  you  may  have  the 
chicken-pox  somewhere,  and  there's  nothing  like  good 
company  when  things  are  uncomfortable.  Just  say  to 
yourself : 

"There,  that  other  fellow  has  got  it  too!  It's  got  to 
he  put  up  with ;  there's  no  doing  anything  ahout  it,  and 
we  must  just  stand  it  the  best  we  can." 


MARCH  20,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


313 


HARDLY    WciKTII    PAHNINi:  "-FROM  A  PAINTING  BY  J.  <!.  BROWN,  N.A. 


314: 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MARCH. 

BY  SUSAN  HARTLEY  SWETT. 
THE  loud  winds  ]ihiy  their  trumpets  gay: 

The  days  march  to  their  ring; 
And  here's  the  bridge  across  the  ridge 

That  leads  to  happy  spring. 
Over  they  go  beneath  its  arch. 
A  merry  troop,  for  this  is  March. 

Come,  green  grass,  lift  above  the  drift 

Your  fringes  to  the  air; 
Come,  silver  boot,  come,  rosy  foot. 

Ami  leave  your  gay  prints  there; 
Come,  bluebirds,  and  come,  glad  new  leaves. 
To  flutter  round  the  homestead  eaves. 

Through  meadows  damp,  with  your  bright  lamp. 

Oh,  yellow  cowslips,  haste; 
Come,  south  wind  warm,  with  one  light  arm 

Around  the  willow's  waist, 
And  call  and  call  the  violets  dear. 
For  morning's  here,  and  spring  is  near. 

Come,  silver  streams,  the  winter's  dreams 

Break  with  your  ringing  feet ; 
Wake,  rivers  gay.  and  flit  away; 

Come,  rains,  with  fingers  sweet. 
And  hang  new  tassels  on  the  larch; 
Come,  all  glad  things,  for  this  is  March. 


THE  NEWSPAPER  CLUB. 

BY  THE  SECRETARY. 

I  WILL  state  at  once  that  the  Newspaper  Club  is  not,  as 
one  might  perhaps  be  led  to  think  from  its  name,  an 
association  of  editors.  The  President,  it  is  true,  is  an  ed- 
itor, and  as  for  that,  so  is  the  Secretary;  but  as  the  latter 's 
publication  is  nothing  but  a  modest  little  amateur  paper, 
his  editorship  is  far  from  important.  The  club  selected 
their  name  for  the  excellent  reason  that  at  the  time  they 
could  decide  on  no  other. 

From  the  beginning  it  was  only  intended  as  a  temporary 
one,  but  somehow  the  name  has  grown  familiar  to  the 
members,  and  now  after  a  year's  use  there  is  not  any 
positive  sign  that  we  shall  adopt  another.  However,  it 
describes,  I  think,  the  club's  object  about  as  well  as  any: 
thing  else,  which  object  is,  as  our  constitution  states, 
"by  study  of  the.  newspapers  and  magazines  to  gain  an 
acquaintance  with  the  prominent  events  of  the  day.  and 
1o  acquire  a  facility  in  imparting  information  about  the 
same." 

The  club  itself  grew  out  of  our  President's  Sunday-school 
class,  comprising  ten  boys,  whose  ages  range  from  thirteen 
to  sixteen,  and  who,  I  regret  to  say,  could  not  succeed  in 
keeping  the  discussion  of  the  current  topics  interesting 
to  boys  entirely  out  of  the  lesson.  Our  teacher  accord- 
ingly proposed  that  the  class  should  band  itself  together 
into  a  club,  which  should  meet  on  every  other  Saturday 
evening,  and  there  discuss  as  much  as  we  liked  the  sub- 
jects which  we  would  persist  in  bringing  into  the  Sunday- 
school. 

We  boys  thought  this  a  good  idea,  and  011  the  llth 
of  February,  1882,  seven  of  us  met  at  our  teacher's 
house  for  the  purpose  of  organizing  a  club.  The  first 
thing  "in  order"  was  to  elect  a  President,  which  we  did 
by  unanimously  choosing  our  teacher,  after  which  the 
others  complimented  the  writer  by  electing  him  to  the 
position  of  Secretary  and  Treasurer.  Then  a  committee 
was  appointed  to  prepare  a  constitution,  which  at  the  fol- 
lowing meeting  was  reported  and  adopted.  For  the  in- 
formation of  any  who  may  want  to  get  up  a  similar  club 


it  may  be  worth  while  to  give  briefly  the  main  points  of 
our  constitution  here. 

Xniiif  inn/  <>lij«-t. — (Already  given.) 

Membership.— Members  to  consist  of  class  Xo.  —  in  \V Sunday- 
school  :it  tlie  time  of  the  adoption  of  tin-  constitution, and  any  others 
proposed  liy  the  Executive  Commit  tee,  :iml  elected  liy  a  majority  of  the 
members  present.  Number  limited  to  fifteen. 

/I'/:*.  —  Five  rents  each  meeting. 

O^Yfcs.— President  and  Secretary,  the  latter  to  net  as  Treasurer. 
Kleeted  fur  four  months. 

Committees. — Executive  Committee,  appointed  by  the  President,  con- 
sisting of  two  members — President  al-o  a  member  at-o^Jcio* — to  which 
all  questions  affecting  the  club  are  referred. 

.!/..////'/.•..  —  Kvery  alternate  Saturday  evening  at  Y.:n">  I'.M.,  unless  oth- 
crwi>e  ordered. 

Ijlimni. — Under  the  care  of  the  Executive  Committee,  to  be  provided 
by  donations  of  members  and  purchase  of  books  out  of  the  funds  of  the 
cl'iili.  Any  member  keeping  a  book  out  over  three  meetings  liable  to  a 
fine  of  five  cents  per  week. 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  that  the  machinery  of  the  club 
is  very  simple.  The  officers  are  as  few  as  possible,  and 
not  so  important  that  any  one  need  covet  their  position. 
We  have  already  had  three  elections  without  any  change 
being  made,  and  begin  to  feel  that  we  are  illustrating  the 
theory  of  civil  service'  reform,  which  we  are  just  com- 
mencing to  understand. 

The  fortnightly  place  of  meeting  of  the  club  is  the  front 
basement  of  our  President's  house,  in  one  corner  of  which 
stands  a  not  unimportant  feature  of  our  association — the 
club  library.  This  is  made  up.  as  the  constitution  al- 
ready quoted  states,  of  books  contributed  by  the  members, 
and  also  those  which  our  President  generously  adds:  and 
each  member  is  at  liberty  to  take  a  book  at  any  meeting, 
providing  he  returns  it  within  a  reasonable  time.  Fre- 
quently the  club  has  the  pleasure  of  entertaining  at  the 
meetings  visitors,  friends  of  the  President  and  of  the 
members,  and  not  many  weeks  ago  we  welcomed  a  gen- 
tleman whose  name  is  very  familiar  in  the  columns  of 
Youxu  PEOPLE — the  author  of  "  Reg,"  and  of  many  other 
equally  interesting  stories  that  have  appeared  in  these 
pages.  He  had  with  him,  when  he  called,  the  manuscript 
of  a  story  which  has  not  yet  appeared  in  print,  and  which 
he  was  so  kind  as  to  read  to  us  and  submit  to  our  criticism. 

Perhaps  it  will  not  be  out  of  place  to  describe  or  at 
least  give  an  idea  of  the  proceedings  of  one  meeting. 
The  members  assemble  in  the  "club-room,"  where  seats 
are  provided  around  the  cloth  -  covered  dining  table. 
When  a  "  quorum"  is  present  the  President  raps  with  his 
ivory  gavel  (which,  by-the-way.  was  a  present  from  the 
members  last  Christmas),  and  order  being  secured,  the  Sec- 
retary calls  the  roll,  after  which  he  reads  the  minutes  of 
the  last  meeting,  which,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  min- 
utes, are  not  remarkable  for  their  variety  or  interest.  The 
club  then  proceeds  at  once  to  the  business  of  the  evening. 
Probably  a  debate  will  come  first,  generally  on  some  his- 
torical subject,  and  after  that  has  been  hotly  but  good-na- 
turedly contested  a  reading — often  one  of  Jimmy  Brown's 
much  admired  articles — follows. 

At  the  previous  meeting  one  of  the  members  has  been 
appointed  to  trivo  what  we  term  the  "topics";  that  is,  the 
most  important  events  which  have  occurred  during  the 
two  previous  weeks.  These  are  now  presented,  and  dis- 
cussed in  an  easy,  unconstrained  way — an  exercise  which. 
I  feel  sure,  gives  each  one  of  us  a  very  satisfactory  idea  of 
current  history.  One  of  our  more  intellectual  members 
then  reads  an  original  essay  on  some  popular  topic  in 
which  we  are  all  deeply  interested,  presumably  011  ac- 
count of  its  originality;  or  perhaps  our  President  reads 
us  one  of  his  stories  previous  to  its  publication. 

By  this  time  the  clock  points  to  the  hour  that  denotes 
bed-time,  and  when  the  books  are  selected  from  the  libra 
ry,  a  "motion  to  adjourn  is  in  order."     The  club  steal 
cautiously  upstairs,  don  their  coats  and  hats,  and  depart 


means.  liv  virtue  of  his  ollicc. 


,  1SS3. 


HABFER'S  YOrX(4   I'KOI'LK. 


315 


with  the  satisfactory  nun  iclion  lliat  the  Newspaper  Club 
is  a  "  yood  thiny."  iinel  he>und  to  prosper 

line  thiny   1  should   like  to  add.  for  the  henelii    of  any 

who  may  have  become  iim-re-sled  enough  in  ihis  ace i 

of  the  Xe \vspa PIT  Club  to  wish  to  ye-t  one  up  of  a  similar 
character:  Be  sure  and  yet  some  one  older  than  yourselves 
in  help  you  with  the  organization,  or  else  I  am  afraid  it 
will  lack  the  vitality  which  the  Newspaper  ( 'luh  seems  to 
possess. 

XYjTK  itv  TIIK  PKKSIIM:\T.  —  It  is  hanllv  nei.-essary  to  a<i-]  anvthiug  to 
the  Si'i-re-tary's  aex-omit.  unless  it  mav  lie  to  -peak  nf  a  small  oulletin  or 
proirramme  which  is  usualiv  pre-pareil  hy  liini  I'or  each  ini-i'tiiiir.  This 
programme  '_;ives  tin-  usual  einler  of  exercises,  as  they  lime  alrea'lv 
lierll  cle-erihi-'l  hv  t  lie  Seen  I  a  r\ .  Of  l|i,.-e  exercises  tin'  •'  topirs"  are 
not  llie  lea-t  ilu|ior(a  111  feature.  It  is  this  feat  lire.  in.  leec !,  «  Ineh  (lives 

the  clul)  its  name  ami  its  motive,      lir-ides  the  one  person   appointeii 

t'i    |ili'-ellt     the    tOpiCS,  each    Iliemlier    is    e\|»-ete<l    to    eolue    prepaleel    "itll 

the  news  of  the  fortnight,  so  thai   what  the  lii-t  omiis  the  oh, 
supply.      If  any  reaileis   of   YOIM.    I'niri.i:   are  anxioii-    to    L'et    up   a 

Newspaper  Club,  the    IVe-i,lrul    of    llli-    one    uili    lie    e]ail    to    s,.||i|    thrill 

any  aiil  in  his  power,  though  the  Serrrtary's  full  an  I  cleai  acc'Dlinc 
seems  to  furnish  all  the  iletails  that  are  i essarv. 


••  \VH.II  DOLLY." 
i:  v  .1 1  i.i  A  K.  ii  1 1. DIM: TII. 

ONK  of  the  love  lie- 1   s]io(s  iii  the  world  is  a  nook  by  t  In- 
old  saw-mill  on  the  A  si  me  lot  Kiver.      ( i  ram  1  old  tree-, 

interlace  their  br 'lies  overhead,  and  the   rocks  are  COY 

cred  with  a  soft  carpel  of  moss  and  llowers.  One  side  of 
the  mill  is  built  against  an  enormous  rock-  thai  rises  out 
of  the  wale]'  to  within  a  feu  feel  of  t  he  roof. 

The  back  of  the  mill  on  \\hich  the  wheel  is  placed  is 
covered  with  a  wonderful  vine,  as  old  as  the  mill  iKelf; 
this  vine  clinys  tjyhlly  to  I  he  worn  gray  stones  above  the 
wheel,  and  is  kept  fresh  and  green  by  the  spray.  It  com 
pletely  covers  the  upper  part  of  the  wall,  conceal  illy  with 
a  cm-lain  of  leaves  and  tendrils  a  small  window  under  the 
eaves. 

(Ine  sunny  niorniny  l>o||y  \\'ild  and  her  brother  Will 
came  down  to  the  old  mill  and  peeped  into  t  lie  open  door. 
The  yt-eat  saw  was  in  motion,  lilling  the  buildiny  with  a 
queer  humming  sound  as  if  a  colony  of  gigantic  hees  had 
taken  up  their  abode  in  the  place. 

The  sawyer  t  timed  as  I  heir  shadows  fell  across  the  iloor, 
and  said,  with  a  smile,  "Well,  holly,  where  are  you  go 
iny  this  morning  '" 

"To  fish  behind  the  mill."  replied  Dolly. 

"  Kver  catch  any  ;"  inquired  the  man. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Dolly,  scraping  up  the  sawdust 
with  the  toe  of  her  shoe,  "but  Will  does  sometimes." 

"That's  the  way.  is  it  '."  said  the  sawyer,  lookiny  at 
Will,  and  lauyhiny.  Then  turning  to  Dolly,  he  inquired, 

"Waslhat  you  walkiny  on  the  ])lank  over  the  race  the 
other  day  .'" 

"  Yes.  sir."  answered  Dolly.  "But  how  did  you  know  '. 
I  did  not  Ihink  you  could  see  the  plank  from  this  side  of 
the  mill." 

"There, "said  the  sawyer,  pointinyup  to  the  small  win- 
dow under  the  roof,  through  which  long1  tendrils  of  the 
vine  had  yrowu  and  were  stretch  iny  out  to  ward  the  beams — 
''I  was  up  there  trying  to  catch  a  white  owl.  The  vine's 
full  of  the  pesky  thing's.  Now  see  here,  Dolly,  that  plank- 
is  an  awful  dangerous  place;  it's  right  over  the  race,  and 
if  you  should  slip  in  when  the  mill's  runniny,  nothing 
short  of  a  miracle  could  save  you  from  being- crushed  up 
ayainst  the  wheel.  It's  full  a  quarter  of  a  mile  around 
over  the  bridge,  and  a  body  might  scream  till  they  were 
black  in  the  face  before  I  heard  them,  unless  they  stood 
i-iyhl  in  the  door.  So  don't  you  try  it  again.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  think  of  nil/  wheel  crunching  your  little  bones  to 
Hinders." 

"Well,"  answered  Dolly,  "I  won't  go  there  again  if 
you  feel  like  that;  but  I  never  fall." 


"  Neither  does  she."  put  in  Will.  "  She  can  climb  and 
run  and  jump  ten  times  better  than  1  can." 

"There's  a  last  time  to  most  ihinys.  remember  that." 
answered  the  sawyer,  "and  don't  let  her  go  there  ayain." 
Then  he  turned  and  resumed  his  work. 

"Good-by."  cried  the  children,  and  started  off  pell- 
mell  down  the  load  and  over  the  bridge  to  their  favor 
ite  haunt.  Dolly  skipping  and  jumping  from  one  slip- 
pery stone  to  another  as  tlmuyh  she  had  wings,  and 
Will  following  mote  slowly  with  his  basket  and  rod. 
The  sawyer's  words  had  made  him  a  little  thoughtful, 
and  as  he  watched  his  sister's  careless  movements  he  call- 
ed out, 

"  Dolly.  <lu  take  care!  I  don't  wonder  the  fellows  call 
you  '  Wild  Dolly.'" 

"Do  they  '."  said  Dolly,  stopping  and  lookiny  around. 
"Then  I  think  they're  very  mean.  I  never  hurt  them,  I 
am  sure." 

"Oh,  they   only  do  it   for  fun.  so  don't   be  mad.      But  I 
u  ish  you  uould  take  care,  and  look  where  you  are  "'oilier 
You'll  fall." 

"Take  care  of  yourself,"  answered    Dolly;  "I  am  sure 

you  i d  it  more  than  I  do." 

llo«  cross  yon  are  to  clay  1"  replied  Will.      "What's 
the  matter.  Dolly    t" 

"Nothing,"  said  Dolly:  "only  1  don't  want  everybody 
sayiny.  'Take-  care.'  calliny  me  'Wild  Dollv,'  and  ail 
that." 

"Very  well."  responded  Will,  soberly  ;  "only  1  don't 
want  you  to  hurl  yourself." 

"All  right. "said  Dol  I  \  .  smiliny ;  "I'm  not  angry." 
I'.y  this  time  they  had  reached  the  spot  which  they  had 
chosen  for  a  lishiny  place.  Il  was  on  the  same  bank  of 
Ihe  river  uith  the-  mill,  and  a  lew  yards  above  it.  Above, 
a  great  beech-tree  spread  its  arms  far  out  over  the  stream, 
and  beneath,  a  Hat  rock  arose-  out  of  the  water,  making  a 
most  excellent  spot  for  lishiny. 

At  t  his  point  the  river,  rushing  by  perhaps  for  hundreds 
of  years,  had  worn  a  little-  circular  basin  or  bay  in  the 
hard  rocks.  Here  the  water  was  very  deep  and  still  close 
m-hore.  You  could  see  down  into  tin-  green  depths  for 
many  feet,  and  when  the  sun  shone  direcllv  upon  it,  you 
miylit  now  and  then  calch  a  glimpse-  of  n  trout  turning 
his  briyht  sides  hither  and  thither.  Will  said  it  was  a 
sort  of  "  resting  place"  for  the-  lisb  before  they  took  the 
plunge,  through  the  pace. 

Twenty  feet  from  the-  shore-,  howeve-r,  the-  river  shot  by 
like  an  arrow;  a  branch  or  log  floating  upon  it  would  fair- 
ly seem  to  II  v.  A  little  beyond  the-  bay  the  whole  current, 
was  compressed  into  a  great  wooden  trough  or  gutter, 
called  the  "race."  This  gutter  delivered  the  immense 
power  of  the-  stream  directly  upon  the  paddles,  or  buckets, 
of  the  wheel,  causing  it  to  fly  around  in  a  continuous 
cloud  of  foam  with  a  noise  like  thunder. 

Just  where  the-  water  poured  out  of  the  race  upon  the 
wheel  there-  was  a  strong  frame-work  of  plank  which  ran 
across  the  race,  e-hise-  to  the  surface  of  the  swiftly  running 
water,  and  very  near  the  wheel.  This  frame-work  was 
for  the  purpose  e>f  giving  strength  to  the  gutter,  and  to 
prevent  the  water  frenn  bursting-  it  to  pieces.  Over  this 
plank  Dolly  had  often  walked  without  the  slightest  fear, 
though  it  was  always  we-t  and  slippery,  and  a  single  mis- 
step must  have  surely  dashed  be-r  tei  pieces  upon  the 
wheel.  The-  sawyer  bad  forbidden  her  te>  cross  it  again, 
and  though  she  looked  at  it  longingly  as  she  wandered  up 
and  down  the  banks  while  Will  was  arranging-  his  lines, 
she  did  not  mean  to  disobev. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  race  —  that  is  to  say,  farthest. 
from  the  whe-el  and  nearest  the  fishing  rock — was  anoth- 
er frame-work  of  different  character.  It  was  called  the 
"gate, "and  was  used  for  the  purpose  of  shutting  the 
water  out  of  the  race,  and  turning  it  another  way.  Of 
course,  when  the  gate  was  shut,  no  water  could  get  into 


316 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  race;  what  was  already  in  it  would  run  out,  and  the 
wheel  would  stop. 

This  gate  was  simply  a  square  of  thick  plank,  bolted  to- 
gether, of  the  exact  size  of  the  race  trough,  so  that  when 
down  it  would  exactly  close  the  end  of  it.  It  was  ar- 
ranged to  run  up  and  down  in  grooves  made  in  two  great 
posts  standing  upright  on  each  side  of  the  race.  When  the 
mill  was  in  motion,  the  gate  was  hauled  to  the  top  of  the 
posts  by  means  of  a  rope  running  over  a  pulley,  and  tied 
fast.  When  the  sawyer  wished  to  stop  his  wheel,  all  he 
had  to  do  was  to  untie  his  rope;  the  gate  would  drop  into 


51   ; '•'•:"• K ;'    P  •         /V'/ 

i  'f      0 

/T  '       ".•'•••'•'>)'      ''-;'    •-':>i"P'1  /•''* 


•np-VH  /     —  -----=-'-   • 

!  ^mmli  /  .'> 

,    ,|'  '  ^W  ;      /•.  I      ,          •• 
-'."I/"'        /  /    V.  •<       -       •'~^='-.' - 


•WILL'S    BODY    C'AME    DRIVING    DOWN    THE    KACE. 


the  trough  of  its  own   weight,  and  the  water  would  be 
shut  off  from  the  wheel. 

After  a  while  Dolly  went  back  to  where  Will  was  lish- 
He  seemed  to  have  very  poor  luck,  for  not  a  nibble 


had  yet  rewarded  his  patience.  Dolly  sat  down  beside  him, 
and  began  to  cut  up  her  bread  into  squares  with  her  knife. 

"You'd  better  eat  your  bread,"  said  Will,  contemptu- 
ously; "the  fish  won't  touch  it.'' 

"I'm  sure  they  would  like  it  better  than  those  nasty 
Hies  and  bugs,"  said  Dolly;  "  I  know  /would." 

"But  you're  not  a  trout,  are  you ?"  asked  Will.  "  How 
do  you  know  what  lish  like  ;" 

"  Well,  they  don't  like  your  bugs,  that's  plain-,"  return- 
ed Dolly.  "You  haven't  had  a  bite  for  half  an  hour." 

' '  That's  because  I've  got  an  old  grasshopper  on  my 
hook,"  said  Will,  "all  bones  and  110  taste  in  him.  Here, 
Dolly,  just  watch  my  line,  will  you  ;  I'm  going  to  hunt 
up  a  cricket,  a  large  fat  one,  and  then  you'll  see." 

Will  laid  his  rod  upon  the  rock,  and  began  hunting 
along  the  bank  for  his  cricket.  Dolly  was  sure  her  bread 
would  have  been  better  bait,  and  she  would  have  liked  to 
have  drawn  up  the  line  and  put  a  morsel  of  it  upon  the 
hook.  But  she  knew  Will  would  be  angry,  so  she  sat 
watching  the  float  bobbing  upon  the  water,  until  all  of  a 
sudden  it  gave  a  great  jerk,  and  sank  out  of  sight. 

"Will!  Will!''  cried  Dolly,  excitedly,  "you've  got  a 
bite.  Quick!  quick!  he's  running  away  with  the  rod  !" 

Will  ran  down  the  bank,  and  sprang  forward  to  seize 


his  rod.  In  his  eagerness  his  foot  slipped  upon  the  wet 
rock,  and  the  next  instant  he  fell  forward  upon  his  face 
into  the  water.  Before  he  could  make  one  effort  to  save 
himself  he  was  caught  in  the  eddy,  and  whirled  round 
and  round  like  a  cork. 

Dolly  gave  a  piercing  scream  as  she  saw  his  mishap. 
She  stood  panting  on  the  bank  an  instant  as  her  brother 
was  drawn  more  and  more  swiftly  toward  the  centre  of 
the  stream;  then  she  Hew  down  the  bank,  and  upon  the 
plank  next  the  wheel. 

"They  told  me  not  to  cross  it."  she   thought,  "but  I 

in  nut.  If  Will  is  drown- 
ed,  I  don't  care  whether 
1  fall  iii  or  not." 

Will's  basket  had  fall- 
en in  with  him,  and,  be- 
ing lighter  than  be,  bad 
Keen  drawn  into  the  cur- 
rent lirst.  and  was  swept 
down  toward  her  like  a 
rocket.  It  passed  beneath 
her  feet,  struck  the  wheel, 
and  was  dashed  high  in 
the  air.  She  nearly  faint- 
ed as  she  thought  that 
this  was  what  must  hap- 
pen to  Will. 

Not  two  minutes  after 
his  fall  Will's  body  came 
driving  down  the  race 
toward  her.  She  uttered 
another  cry,  and  crouch- 
ed down,  holding  on  to 
the  plank  with  one  hand 
and  extending  the  other 
toward  him.  The  brave 
girl  never  thought  that, 
even  if  she  could  catch 
her  brother,  the  force  of 
his  mot  ion  would  be  near 
1\  certain  to  drag  her  in 
with  him. 

On  he  came,  striking 
now  one  side  of  the  race 
and  then  the  other,  until 

he  shot  directly  toward  her.  As  he  was  passing,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  catching  him  by  the  hair  with  one  hand,  while 
she  clung  to  the  frame-work  with  the  other.  Of  course 
her  strength  was  not  sufficient  to  have  held  him  up  for  a 
moment.  But  the  tug  she  gave  him  directed  his  course 
toward  the  side  of  the  race,  and  the  very  instant  he  was 
about  to  be  flung  upon  the  wheel,  his  arm  caught  in  the 
frame-work  upon  which  Dolly  stood,  and  he  was  wedged 
fast.  The  water  tugged  and  jerked  at  him,  but  now  its 
power  only  fastened  him  firmer  in  the  frame-work.  His 
jacket  was  torn  off,  his  hat  was  gone,  his  upturned  face 
was  cut  and  bleeding,  and  his  eyes  were  closed. 

Dolly  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  round  for  help.  She 
sprang  from  the  plank  and  ran  toward  tin-  mill.  The  savi 
yer  and  his  man  were  near  the  front  of  the  mill  on  an  up- 
per floor.  She  screamed  to  them,  but  the  saw  was  going, 
and  they  never  heard  her.  She  thought  of  climbing  I  he 
high  bank,  and  running  around  to  the  front  to  alarm 
them.  But  would  there  be  time  '.  Any  moment  Will 
might  be  torn  loose,  and  then  help  would  be  too  late. 

As  she  ran  wildly  along  the  bank  her  foot  struck  the 
rope  which  held  the  gate  in  place.  She  stopped  and  look- 
ed up  at  it.  She  knew  that  if  the  gate  were  closed  Will 
could  be  saved,  because  no  more  water  could  get  into  the 
race,  and  the  wheel  must  stop. 

She  caught  hold  of  the  rope  and  tried  her  strength  upon 
it.  She  could  not  .stir  the  gate;  it  took  the  strength  of 
the  sawyer  and  his  man  to  raise  or  lower  the  heavy  plunks, 


MAKI'H   '-!<>,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


.11- 
ol  i 


and  what  could  the  strength  of  one  poor,  half-fainting  lit- 
tle creature  do  with  .such  a  weight  ?  If  she  could  untie  the 
knot  which  held  the  rope,  the  gate  would  drop  of  its  own 
accord.  She  tore  at  the  knot  until  her  fingers  hied,  but  it 
would  not  be  untied. 

Slif  arusi'  and  looked  around  again.  "\Yill  -was  still 
hanging  in  I!M'  frame- work.  IVrha  |>s  tbere  would  In  •  i  mie 
to  climb  tin'  bill  and  warn  the  .-au  yer.  She  started  at  the 
top  nf  ln'i1  s|n'i'd.  hut  suddenly  turni'd  aside  with  a  cry  of 
joy.  and  sprang  toward  the  tlat  rock  where  they  had  been 
fishing.  The  knife  with  which  she  had  been  cutting  up 
her  bread  still  lay  tbere;  its  'jl.-ani  had  caught  her  eye. 
It  was  very  shai-p.  and  she  thought  she  might  cut  the  rope 
with  it. 

She  sei/ed  it  and  ran  back  to  the  gate.  Stoopinir  down 
she  pressed  the  blade  against  the  tightly  strained  rope 
with  all  her  might.  There  was  a  sharp  snapping  sound. 
then  the  rope  parted  with  a  dull  report,  and  the  _  <, 
.splashed  heavily  into  the 
water. 

The  knot  of  the  parting 
rope  had  struck  Polly  a  vi- 
olent blow,  and  her  cheek 
wax  cut  open  to  the  bone. 

But  she  crawled  to  the  edge 

of  t  lie  race  and  looked  over. 
The  gate  was  in  plaee.  and 
the  water  was  rapidly  low- 
ering ;  already  the  wheel 
had  slopped.  Will  was 
saved  I 

The  sudden  stoppage  of 
his  sa\\  had  astonished  the 
sawyer,  and  Polly  saw  him 
thrust  his  head  out  of  an 

upper  window. 

"  You  vixen  1"  he  cried. 
"  what  have  \  on  been  do- 
ing '." 

"Saving  Will, "said  ]>ol 
ly,  faintly.      "  I  le  fell  into 
the  race,  and  I  cut  the  rope 
and  let  the  gate  fall.       (  th, 
come  down   and  help   him 

OUt.  please  I" 

What  with  her  cut  and 
her  friu'lit  Polly  was  SO 
weal;  that  she  could  not 
move,  but  lay  upon  the 
edge  of  (he  race,  while  the 
sawyer  and  his  man  drew 
Will  out  of  his  dangerous 
position.  He  was  yet  in- 
sensible, and  his  arm  was 
broken,  but  be  was  alive 
and  in  no  danger  of  dying. 

'•Safe.  Dolly:"  cried  the 
sawyer,  as  lie  came  up  car- 
vying  Will.  "Jump  up 
and  run  ahead." 

1  lolly  rose  and  tried  to 
do  as  he  told  her.  but  she 
was  so  weak  and  sick  that 
she  st  aggered  and  fell  down 
again. 

"Why,  the  poor  darling- 
is  hurt  too!"  cried  the  saw- 
3 i  i-  to  his  man.  "  Lift  her 
ii]).  .lim,  and  carry  her  into 
the  mill.  Cheer  up !  that's 
a  brave  girl ;  we'll  have 
you  safe  home  in  a  jiffy." 

"  I    don't    mind,''    said 


Dolly,  with  a  faint  smile.  "It  don't  hurt  much.  I  am 
so  glad  Will  is  safe  I  don't  feel  anything." 

The  two  children  were  carried  into  the  mill.  The 
sawyer  then  harnessed  his  horse  to  the  mill  wagon,  and. 
making  a  soft  bed  of  sawdust  in  the  bottom  of  it,  laid  Dol- 
ly and  Will  upon  it  and  carried  them  home. 

Will  was  sick  for  many  weeks,  but  Dolly  was  out  in  a 
day  or  two.  The  sawyer  told  everybody  what  bad  hap- 
pened, and  holly  uas  ver\  much  astonished  by  what  peo- 
ple said  of  her.  The  village  paper  had  a  long  account 
of  the  accident,  in  which  it  spoke  of  Dolly  as  a  "heroine" 
and  a  "  brave  little  woman."  Dolly  could  not  understand 
why  so  simple  a  matter  as  doing'  your  very  utmost  to  save 
the  life  of  one  you  love  should  be  thought  so  wonderful. 

Will  never  forgot  what  his  sister  had  done  for  him.  and 

years  afterward  uas  fond  of  telling  the  story  of  tl Id 

mill,  and  of  asserting  that  there  never  was  another  such 
girl  as  his  sister  Polly. 


A   SAWDUST   TRAGEDY. 


318 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


SPECIAL   ANNOUNCEMENT. 


A\  OFFER  TO  YOUNG  AMERICAN  ARTISTS. 

For  the  best  original  drawing  to  illustrate  AL- 
FRED DOMETT'S  "I'lirMmn*  //;/;«»"— the  drawing 
to  be  suitable  for  publication  in  HARPER'S  MAGA- 
ZINE, and  to  be  the  exclusive  work  of  an  Ameri- 
can artist  not  over  twenty-five  years  of  age— 
Messrs.  HARPER  A  BROTHERS  offer  an  award  of 
THREE  THOUSAND  DOLLARS,  upon  the  hon- 
orable understanding  that  the  successful  com- 
petitor shall  use  the  same  for  the  prosecution  of 
art  study  in  one  or  more  of  the  best  American 

s,-l Is,  including  also  a  sojourn  abroad  of  at 

least  six  months  for  the  study  of  the  old  mas- 
ters. The  award  will  be  paid  in  such  installments 
and  at  such  times  as  shall  best  suit  the  conven- 
ieiiei1  of  the  recipient  for  the  purposes  speciiied. 

The  drawings  must  be  received  by  Messrs  HAI: 
PKI:  &  BROTHERS  not  later  than  August  1.  INK), 
addressed  "Art  Cow/"''""".  //"'•/'"•'.*  .l/«w:/' /.. . 
I-'ratikl'/:  ^</>nir< .  .\,  if  )'»/'/,-",-  :md  each  must  be 
designated  by  an  assumed  name  or  motto,  which 
should  also  be  given  — together  with  the  real 
name.  age.  and  residence  of  the  artist— in  a  seal- 
ed envelope  accompanying  the  drawings,  and 
nut  to  be  opened  until  the  result  of  tlie  compe- 
tition shall  have  been  determined.  The  name 
of  the  successful  competitor  will  not  be  publicly 
announced  until  the  publication  of  the  drawing. 

Mr.  R.  SWAIN  GIFFORU,  N.A.,  Mr.  F.  D.  MILLET, 
A.N.A..  and  Mr.  rii.vni.ES  PARSONS.  A  N.A..  Su 
perintendent  of  the  Art  Department,  HARPER  & 
BROTHERS,  will  act  as  judges  of  the  competition. 

It  is  intended  to  engrave  the  successful  draw- 
ing as  one  page  for  HARPER'S  MAI;A/INL  of  lie 
cember.  Iss3  ;  and  should  otherdra wings  submit- 
ted be  found  suitable,  seei  mil.  third,  and  fourth 
awards  will  be  made, as  follows  •  one  page  n.u; 
PER'S  WEEKLY.  SWO;  one  page  HARPER'S  BAZ  \r.. 
$300;  one  page  HARPER'S  YOCNG  PEOPLE,  Sum. 

If  the  judges  should  decide  that  no  one  of  the 
drawings  is  suitable.  Messrs.  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
reserve  the  right  to  extend  the  limit  of  time  and 
re-open  the  <  olllpetitioii. 

Two  Christmas  Hymnsby  ALFRED  DOMETT  have 
been  published.  That  published  in  1837  is  the 
•  me  for  the  illustration  of  which  artists  are  in- 
vited to  compete;  and  a  printed  copy  of  it  will 
be  sent  on  application  to 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

FRANKLIN  SQI-ARK,  NEW  YORK. 


KITE  time  and  top  time  and  hoop  time  and 
skipping-rope  time-  :    What  fun  you  are  hav- 
ing, to  be  sure,  when 
Cheerily  (i 

The  March  winds  blow, 
And  we  say  good-by  to  storms  and  snow ! 


PORT  JKRVIS,  NEW  YORK. 

I  live  in  Orange  County,  on  the  Delaware  IJiver 
If  the  buys  and  girls  will  louk  on  their  maps  they 
will  see  very  near  my  home  a  spot  where  three 
states  join  It  is  called  Carpenter's  Point,  and 
sometimes  Tri-States  Rock.  If  here,  yon  could 

?laee  one  i  ^  in  New  Jersey,  and  one  in  Xew 
'ork.  and  a  hand  in  the  water  of  the  river  which 
is  the  line  of  the  Slate  of  Pennsylvania. 

My  grandmother  lives  in  Milford.  seven  miles 
away,  and  my  little  dog  Fritz  lives  with  her.  He 
was  frightened  at  snow  sliding  on  the  roof,  and 
ran  home  to  me.  He  wiggles  all  over  his  body 
and  shows  his  teeth  when  he  sees  me,  as  if  he 
were  laughing. 

I  L'O  to  the  Mountain  House  School :  it  is  called 
so  because  a  very  steep  hill  is  just  behind  it.  It 
is  four  stories  high— I  mean  the  Mountain  House, 
not  the  hill— and  we  can  step  out  on  the  ground 
from  three  of  the  floors.  There  are  oak  and 
chest  nut  trees  all  around  it.  the  little  squirrels 
race  all  over  the  roof,  and  bad  boys  go  up  the 
mountain-side  sometimes  and  throw  stones  ou 
Ilie  roof.  \Ve  can  look  down  on  the  canal,  the 
railroad, and  two  rivers — the  Neversinkand  Dela- 
ware-. Gus  \V. 

I  was  no  older  than  1  suppose  you  are.  Master 
<iii~.  \\ rhen  I  climbed  the  very  mountain  of  which 


yon  speak,  with  a  merry  party  of  friends,  one  sum- 
mer day.  But  I  think  the  school  was  not  there 
at  that  time.  It  must  be  pleasant  to  have  the 
squirrels  for  such  friendly  little  neighbors. 


GRAM*  ISLE,  VERMONT. 

I  have  written  to  the  Post-office  Box  before, 
but  my  letters  have  not  been  printed.  1  will  do 
as  .Jimmy  Brown  says,  "  If  at  first  you  don't  snc- 
c,  .  d,  cry,  cry  again."  I  wash  dishes  for  mam- 
ma, and  like  it  very  much.  I  think  Hope  would 
be-  a  good  name  for  Harry  V.  W.'s  little  baby  sis- 
ter. My  papa  gave  me  a  new  Waterhnry  watch 
this  morning.  I  have  had  lots  of  tun  sliding  on 
the  ice.  Mamma  puts  meat  in  the  tree  and  crumbs 
on  the  ground  tor  the  little  birds  to  eat.  and  some- 
t  lines  1 ) ii  -re  are  four  kinds  of  birds  there  at  once 
— the  chickadee,  sparrow,  woodpecker,  and  sap- 
sucker.  GRACE  P.  M. 


BROOKLYN  NEW  Y.H:K. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  and  1  made  a 
patchwork  quilt  with  17(U  pieces  two  inches 
square  in  it,  and  when  it  was  done  my  t.nlier 
gave  me  live  dollars  for  it.  I  have  three  b -mid 
volumes  of  Yoi-M!  PEOPLE,  and  I  like  them  very 
much.  I  have  a  little  sister  M.  two  years  old; 
she  is  very  cunning,  and  can  repeat  piece*  and 
sing  songs  as  well  as  if  she  were  six  years  old. 
There  is  a  picture  of  a  little  girl  in  YurNU  PEO- 
PLE who  looks  just  like  her.  The  name  of  the 
picture  is  "  Where  did  you  come  from?" 

MAMIE  L.  B. 

Both  Grace  and  Mair  ie  must  accept  the  1'oM 
mistress's  very  best  wishes  l.raee  has  shown 

g 1  M-nse  and  perseverance  in  writ  ing  more  than 

once  to  the  Post  office  Box.  and  I  like  her  for 
watching  the  birds,  and  Idling  me  the  different 
kinds  that  have  had  their  breakfast  at  her  door 
on  chilly  mornings.  Little  Mamie,  the  darling, 
deserves  mvat  praise  f-  ir  her  patience  in  making 
that  quilt  with  its  lldl  pieces.  The  present  her 
father  gave  her  was  earned  very  honorably.  Now 
she  must  make  a  cra/.y  quilt.  In  a  crazy  quilt  the 
are  taken  just  as  they  come,  of  all  shapes 
and  sizes,  and  if  of  silk  and  velvet,  they  are  all 
the  prettier.  If  any  reader  is  making  one.  she 
may  write  and  describe  it  for  the  other  girls. 


Now  for  our  hoys. 


JKI:-EV  ClTV.  NEW  JKRSKV. 

Will  you  kindly  inform  me-  in  the  Post-office 
Box  whether,  in  the  sraine  of  hare  and  hounds,  in 
the  start  often  minutes  which  the  hare  receives 
must  he  throw  the  scent  i  pa  per)  when  he  starts, 
or  not  until  the  ten  minutes  have  elapsed? 

F.  C.  W. 

The  hare  is  supposed  to  throw  the  scent  from 
the  time  he  starts,  but  it  is  sufficient  to  begin  as 
soon  as  he  is  out  of  sight  of  the  hounds. 


DAYTON,  NEW  YORK. 

I  am  twelve  years  old.  I  attend  school  regu- 
larly. I  have  a  good  many  chores  to  do  out  of 
school  hours.  I  take  the  entire  care  of  a  cow 
and  twenty  hens,  anil  I  take  care  of  two  coal  and 
two  wood  stoves  ;  that  is,  I  empty  the  ashes  and 
bring  in  the  coal  and  wood,  and  in  the  morning  I 
build  two  wood  fires.  Evenings  f  play  games — 
dominoes,  go-bang, authors. the  grand  race  game, 
and  checker^  Some  evenings  I  read  in  a  book 
called  77,.  Kangaroo-HuntefS  I  am  very  fond  of 
reading.  My  favorite  author  is  J.  T.  Trowbridge. 
Of  his  books  I  have  the  ".lack  Hazard  Series" 
Tli:  Silver  Medal, Sound  in  Honor,  and  Ills  uun 


BROOKVM.IE,  CAKADA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old,  1  live  in  Brock- 
ville.  on  the  bank  of  the  river  St.  Lawrence.  I 
have  one  brother  and  one  sister.  I  have  a  dog 
named  Carlo  and  a  canary,  which  I  love  very 
much.  I  have  heen  sick. and  lia\e  ma  lu-t:uu  go- 
ing to  school  yet.  Papa  has  a  boat,  in  which  we 
go  t.nt  in  summer,  anil  we  have  -real  tun  build- 
ing sand  castles.  I  can  row  very  well.  Papa 

used  to  let  me  go  out  ill  the  boat  al I  enjoy 

HARPEII'S  Yoi  NQ  I'i  01-11   \  <  i-\  much.     I  will  send 
you  my  receipt  for  ginger-snaps: 

i  IMC  cup  of  molasses,  one  cup  of  melted  butter, 
one  cup  of  sugar,  two  tea  spoonfuls  of  ginger. 
one  tea  spoonful  of  cinnamon,  one  tea-spoonful 
of  soda,  and  three  table-spoonfuls  of  w  at  IT 

KATIE  McL. 


I  was  t  hirt  ecu  years  old  on  Washington's  Birth- 
day. 1  have  two  sisters  ;  one  is  named  Mary,  and 
the  other  Nan.  Mary  is  ten  year*  old.  and  she 
helps  with  the  house-work.  Nan  goes  to  school, 
and  she  is  learning  very  fast,  she  was  seven  years 
old  the  1st  of  March.  I  work  in  a  bond  broker's 
office  on  Third  street,  and  when  lam  at  leisure  I 
play  checkers  ;  I  also  play  dominoes.  The  books 
I  like  best  are  the  lives  of  Washington  and  Jef- 
fer^oji.  I  am  going  to  sea  next  year  as  a  cabin- 
boy.  JACK  C. 

My  advice  to  you,  Jack,  is  not  to  go.  What 
would  Mary  and  Nan  do  without  you? 


Mtistfr.  I  if  Jules  Verne's  books  I  have  read  Tlif 
Mil*ltrii>n.<  ln'iiixl.  'I'l'-i  nlij  Tlninminl  L,  m/it, ,-  fni/i  /• 
tin  Sea,  ami  Annnul  tin  H"//*/  in  Kiyltlij  [in/i*. 

The  names  of  other  1 ks  I  have  are  The  Child's 

lii.^,'1  ,i  i'!  l-'nfrlirnil.  by  Charles  Dickens,  f.'^f  in 
Hi,  .liu,ili,.\>\  Paul  DuChalllu.  /Iri/li,,,/  linnnil  III,' 
]\::i!:l.  '/i,,i/  i  /•».-<»  .  Six  >/.//*  A,  lloinir.  and  others. 
My  favorite  nioito  is.  "  Do  the  best  you  can  where 
yon  are." 

A-k  the  boys  and  girls  for  me  how  they  would 
writeanorder  to  the  hard  ware  merchant  lor  i  \\ . , 

of  the  articles  called  a  tailoi's  L'OOSC.  I  have 
three  sisters  and  two  brothers,  all  >  ounger  than  1 
am.  I  had  a  little  brother  called  Ward,  w  ho  died 
three  \  eai  ~  a-o  w  it  1 1  diphtheria.  1  hope  you  w  ill 
print  iny  letter.  NORMAN  T. 

It  is  a  real  pleasure  to  ha  \  e  so  straightforward 
and  manly  a  letter  to  print.  Your  life  is  a  busy 
and  wholesome  one,  full  of  work  and  play  very 
well  mixed,  and  your  books  are  good  books  for 
a  boy's  library.  As  for  your  motto,  it  is  a  splen- 
did one.  The  boys  may  answer  your  funn>  ques- 
tion. 

I     ••••    i   -T\  .  MI--MI  la. 

In  No.  173  you  say  that  you  would  like  to  hear 
from  the  boys, and  so  1  take  this  opportunity  to 
write  to  you.  I  work  in  an  oltice  all  day  from 
7  A.M.  to  (i  P.M  .  and  like  work  very  well.  My 
motto  is  the  same  as  Davy  Crockett's  was.  viz.. 
"  lie  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead."  I  don't 
in  games  any  more,  as  I  have  arrived  at 
the  dignitied  age  <>t  seventeen  and  a  halt  seal's. 
Mv  Favorite  amusement  is  stain  pa  ml  coin  collect- 
ing [  have  already  about  1500  \  ariet  ies  of  stamps 

and  900  coins.    1  read  a  <- 1  deal  also  during  the 

evenings,  the  daily  papers  and  stamp  and  coin  pa- 
pers, and  have  aNo  read  many  hooks.  My  favor- 
ite author  is  Mark  Twain. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  excitement  here  to- 
da\  We  have  the  Mate  p.  i.iu  ntiary  at  this 
plai  c.  and  have  convicts  in  it  from  all  over  the 
Stati  .and  they  mutinied  to  day.  and  set  the  peni- 
tentiary on  lire,  and  came  \.r\  mar  escaping. 
But  the  warden  called  out  the  citizens,  and  gave 
them  arms  and  ammunition. and  had  them  mount 
guard  until  they  got  the  tire  under  control. 

II    L.  G. 


SH  AM  VMI   I   I,  Olllo. 

lam  a  boy  who  will  be  ten  years  old  next  Tues- 
day.- 1  have  no  pets  at  present.  1  had  a  nice 
squirrel,  but  it  died:  its  name  was  cute  Tom 
my.  Don't  you  think  that  was  a  funny  name.' 
It  would  eat  out  of  my  hand.  1  have  a  brother 
named  Edwin:  he  is  seven  years  old.  M\  i  apa 
has  taken  Yoi'NB  PEOPLE  for  us  since  Christmas. 
My  dear  mamma  ofti  n  nad^  to  us. 

I  have  an  Aunt  Minnie  who  lives  next  door  to 
us.  She  entertains  us  in  many  ways,  sin- plays 
on  the  piano,  and  helps  us  to  find  out  ili<  pn/ 
zles.  Don't  you  think  I  have  a  good  mamma 
and  auntie?  I  go  to  writing  school,  and  like  it 
very  much.  My  auntie  writes  this  for  me  :  she  is 
fifteen  years  old.  What  do  yon  think  ot  her 
writing?  A  \  H.  ipcr  /  i 

You  may  tell  your  auntie  that  her  writing 
pleased  me  much,  though  I  would  like  to  see 
your  own. 


LA    !'i-l:T>  .  tM'IANA. 

I  live  near  a  church  in  La  Porte  When  I  get 
home  from  school  at  noon  I  eat  my  dinm -r.  and 
then  I  .-it  down  and  read  in  /'/..  'l.'-f,  <>t'  /'/..-i 
it,  nl  Lincoln.  lam  MTV  much  interested  in  that 
book:  I  have  almost  tiniMied  it  now.  It  is  not 
a  very  large  book,  but  I  intend  to  gel  the  full 
history  of  his  life.  After  I  -vt  through  read- 
ing. I  go  out  and  play  until  school-time.  After 
school  in  the  afternoon  I  play  a  little,  then  I  come 
in  and  make  a  fire  in  the  cook  Move  Alter  I 
have  eaten  my  supper  I  read  in  HARPER'S  Yoi  NO 
PEOPLE  if  1  have  a  new  number  [  like  i  he  sto- 
ries of  the  authors  in  •>  01  M.  Pi., MM  i.  lictt.-r  than 
any  others.  I  like  to  play  the  game  of  Authors. 
I  like  to  play  checkers  too  pretty  well.  lam  ten 
years  old.  and  my  playmate  K  seven.  My  mot- 
to is,  "Try  till  you  get  what  you  want." 

Al.ItERT   II.    IV 

Yours  is  a  good  motto  leo.  Albert,  and  I  like 
your  letter  very  much. 


Ol:  \|-T,>N.  I  KTAKIO. 

I  am  a  stranger  to  yon.  I  lia\e  never  laken 
YOUNU  PEOPLE  before  this  year,  and  it  comes  to 
me  from  Toronto.  T  am  eight  years  old.  and  I 
live  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Ontario,  ami  I  wish  you 
could  see  the  ice  banks  formed  by  the  dashing 
of  the  spray  against  the  land.  I  am  very  fond  of 
reading,  and  sincerely  wish  that  the  paper  were 
twice  its  size.  CHARLIE  P.  C. 

Not  a  stranger. but  a  little  friend. 


Now  for  the  girls  again. 

MnM,.,.'i  KBV,    N  i  ui  IMA. 

Mamma  lia*  promised  for  a  irreai  \\  lule  to  write 
yon  a  letter  for  me.  but  -In-  ha-  never  quite  time 
enough,  so  now  my  auntie  ceeile  is  writinir  for 
me  [  am  seven  years  old,  and  have  a  Httle  sister 
Juliet,  aged  five,  and  a  babj  sister  .lean  ;  she  isn't 


"... 


IIARI'KU'S  FOUNG   1'KoPLE. 


319 


have  an  orange  in  the  bureau  drawer."    And  I 

lh..ii-ht  that   wa-  - 
the  pap.  i  - 

I  have  I. en  i  t  a  k  ii.  -  Y..I  N  . .  I  'i  . ,  n  i  I  or  two  year-, 
and  like  it  s,.  niueli  :     I  think  Nan  is  a  lovely  nirl. 

but  I  don't  think  that  I. aura  is  a  n I  -i> 

and  especially  for  -iieh  a  lame  child.     I  alnio-t 

at  her  behavior. 
My  teacher,  Mrs.  i  _  woman,  and 

I   hope  she   Will  s, I,,,  able  to  teael lo  write 

Grandmamma  has  been  vi-it inn 

m   i. -\  hi.- :  she  i-  tin-  lovelies) 

i.  i  in  the  world,  hut  -he  ilid  not  stay  half 
Ions  enough      Papa  has  ju.it  planted  out 

mam    i  and  when  they  bloom  in  the 

of  Ihnn       I 
am   nol    like  Kosaljr  :    I   like  I..  Work,  and  i   till  the 

Satin-day  morninn.     Down  at 

IIIV    nodpajia's    house    there   are    se\rnlr..|] 

nd   they  have  thousands  ,,f  Bowers 

•.n  t ! If  my  letter  is  t.,,.  l, ,n-.  p|, .,,-,.  excuse 

m.-      \\  ith  love,  your  little  n-ieii.l. 

.M  \  nv  M  v  i:riN  c. 
n.  drar  child  ;  and  you  sinm-d 
>..iir  namr  h.  aiitifully. 


"'"'  """  '"  ' 

'"'  "*  h  '"  a  ""«« 


a  is  thir- 


i    my  little  sister-      our 

nimie.     That  is  a  queer  name 

tor  a  nirl.  but  papa  says  be  never  expects  to  have 

another  boy,  so  ue  named  a  nirl  for  himself     We 

have  I  ,.,.  inter  for  this  latitude     more 

snow  than  for  many  years.     We  have  had  s..me 

i  inn  on  tin-  : 


Im    K. 


I  am  a  I  it  II..  nirl  thirtrm  v.-ar-  old.  and  1  have 
laki-ii  ,  r  since  it  was  tir-l  pal 

lishe.l  :     I    lik'.    it     Very  Ili'i 

of  "Nan."     I   bavo  one  pet;   it   i-  n  little  dog, 

Who>.-   li.'l  II].-  N   I'rllirr         I   ,    \;, 

at    a   siie-ia    snrpri-e   parl\-  on    l-'rida\.     I    -••   lo 
school  r\, TV  i|a\  :  I  havr 

lots  of  fnn  doinn  lions... work  .MI  ^        : 
ran   t.akr   plain    rake   and    pnddinn  and    a   nn-at 

i  ihin--     I  love  the  i-o 

r\'rry  1.1  hi-  i-  rea.i  by  1  ( .  l:  vi  I.  M 

A  Silesia  partj   i-  -  .m.  thing  DI  n      i  . 

Wrnt   .ill    lilirl> 


'I'lir  i"  sl   li  tti  r  is  from  a  little  f.-llow-  whose 
i .nship  is  a>  plain  a-  t>  p.-  w  in  in-  ; 

-..   0,11,. 

I    do   not   u'"   to   l)lr  J.llhli  •  set I  :    I   spend    tr..ln 

three  to  six  hou  in  tin-  slmly  :   I  am 

nn  l.al  in.  I  nilrd  Slate-  hi-l . . 

inetic         I    have    I  .  u  inn    li.  .ok 

t-  tss...  \ i.ii, ii TV  t  ..,.,  M  and    i 

of  t! '  /;^/. ,  ll'>!ij"            .  :  iMiiner- 

ons   oth.-r   Irss    e-i.d    I I,-       |    i. ,td    HVKI-II:'- 

Yot    N,.   I'l  ol-l    I    .11. 

miirli  |.|   used  u  ii  h  \  01  •. ..   PFOPI.H       \m«nn  mv 

I k-    I    111.  lOSt.       1    sprlld 

my  evenings  readli  nn  names.    I  play  a 

number  of  games.such  as  authors  checker-,  back 
gammon, sliced  animals.domlnoes,i  i.-     M\  plea 

-in'-  -I   OUl  d •  ama.rmenl   i-  plavinn  bo 

coasting       Mv   rr-ular   work    is   t..   tak<-   r.in-   of 
"iir    h>,i--r.  morninn.   n..on.  and    ninht 
l-'or  thl  .  ••   im-  a  wal.-h  ;  hr  w 

glvi   me  a  printing 

i.i  OROE  II    I.   li    aned  11  yi'ars  i;  month-. i 


. 

\\  .     havr    a 

big  hull-dog  named  Crib ;  he  dislikes  mu- 
much ;  whenever  my  elder  sister  plays  on  the  pi 

ib cries  and  growls  so  thai  we'ha\. 
him  out-doors.     I   hope  you  will  print    tin-  let- 
it    is  the  Ijr-t   |   have  ever  w  Till 

n:  I>. 

NiwYoiti 

Nol  lonn  an>.  we  read  in  II  M:I  i  K  -  \  ..i  N,.  l'i ., 

p.-t  tnrtlr  that    two  ljn|,.  children 

'id  si-t,  r  says  -he  thinks  they  would  like 

i  -nminer.  when  v. 

down  -ide    II,,-;  i      ,  kaway 

1  minn  from  the  p 

',:  lie  found  a  little  turtle  near  th.-  p,,nd 
and  took  it  i  tal  in  hi-  p,,,  , 

•       tliat   is   the  namr  we 

•I    t"   eall    him     and   whrn   v. , 

ba.k  l..    N.w    V.rk.   Theodore   put    him    in    his 

pocket  again,  and  we  have  him  yet      our  bath 

tub  is  an  ii-.  -  on  legs,  and  I'd.- 

under  il   n  ost  of  the  lim.        About  one,    in 

three    da>-    he    nd-    hill,.  mes    out    into 

the  dininn  loom  t,,  I. -I   u-  know    it       Then   we  let 

. 'el-  run  in  the   b. i  Hi  tub.  and  after  we  pm 

n  that 

d  -w  im  ami  take  a  drini,       I  hi 
not  well 

lip  to    -  I 

A.I;. 

-ted  are  informrd 

that  a  lair  lor  Hi,  ,      ,.,-  ).,.,,. 

pi.-'-  lot  in  si    M  ,  i  I    -pital  for. 

will   be  h.ld  in   K. 'publican   11. ill.  .V,  \\.-l   Thirty 

SI  leet.  oil    U  eilll. 
til    10  I"   M.       The  adllli-sloll   W  ill  be  ten  r,  Ills 

Annie  l>a\  i-on.  M    Kdward-.  I1..,,  me  I  ,  amty.  Xe- 
•M  eorre-p,  .udeiits.  in  an- 
swer l,,  her  .  xchanne.  -i-v.-ral   pa<-kanrs  of  silk 

,  •  ,  «mpanied    M    , 

addn  -  ,    br   nlad    if  any   little 

who  have  s.  nt  articles  to  her.  and  I 

noihiun  in  return,  will,  uj seeing  tin-  - 

write  t..  her.  ile-cribin-  w  hat   they  -.-nt.  s,,  that 
-In-  ma>  .-end  them  what  they  desire 


''I""      I  -'"'  ••!   presenl  ..r  a  nip  ami  saucer      I 

have  a   circus  \\  a  1:011  ami  an  rxprrss  wanon      I 
no  to  the  Franklin  School,  and  I  am  in  cla 

1  can  do  long  ilivisii.n.  1  -,,  t..  sal.liath 
school.  I  am  noinn  to  net  a  new  suit,  ami  I  save 
i:iy  money.  Jos]  PII  GlBSOfi  M.  \ 

I.onn  division  is  hard  work  fora  boy  of  nine. 
How  lar-e  ,s  ill,-  pocket  kit,.,  and  where  do  you 
tly  it  •-. 


rr/./i.Ks  ri.'i.M  •im  KG  i 

No.  1. 
1.1  IMOND. 

1    A  Irllrr  wliirh  is  Imtli  a  vowel  and  a  mnso 

II, lilt        .'     A    .lewish    tril.r.      .'!.   A    wolllllll    who    sr! 

iw-o  ancient  peoples  ai  war.    4.  .\  character  in 

',  Grei  i  in  IM  ii,  ii  \  novrl- 
ist  and  poel  .  \  character  in  /'/-,  Teinpest  s 
A  character  in  /,<".'.*  /.'/^//-->  /  •>  \  n,i.\,s 

m     \    Irllrr  of  thr  (Jrerk   alphalirt.     li 
A  ..MI  sonant.  \uiui  u  II.  TIM  in  KM  i  % 


No  -.'. 

-.1  I     l-.l  III    M,lN.:s 

I    mi  R  prop  or  support  :   l.rhrad  mr.  and  I 

^  trihr  :  In  In  ad  mr  airaiii.  and  I  am  a 

slnnlr  point  -.'  lain  a  movable  seat;  behead  me. 
and  I  -row  on  animals  :  hrh.-ad  mr  airain  and  I 
surround  il anh  :i.  I  am  worn  for  :• !  for 

tune  :  In 'head  mr.  a  ml  I  injure  :  hrhrad  mr  ana  ill. 

and  I  support  the  hand      i   [  am  an  act  of  decep- 
tion:  behead  mr.  and  [  am  the  reverse  of  cold ;  in 
hear)  me  again,  and  I  consume.    .".  I  am  a  p,  unti  d 
Instrument;  behead  me.  and  I  am  a  small  stream; 
behead  mr  again. find  1  am  not  well.    t;.  I  am  a 

linn'  film    disrasr  ;    I,,   I |     ,,.,      :Hh|    |    ..,,,,    .,     |aj, 

in.    aL'ain.alid  I  am  -till  a  laih        ,     I 

nlad:  behead  me, and   I  am mi-net:  hrhea.1 

in.-  again. and  I  am  Irrrdom  from  pain,  s  I  am 
a  l.ird  :  hrhrad  mr.  and  I  am  a  friend:  In-hrad 
mr  again,  and  1  am  al>,  -\ ,  all 

.M.\i:n IN  Mi  AI.VIV 


:  i  i  IMH-. 

I  saw-  Ilia!  no  one  els?  had  wrillrn  li-.,in  this 
town,  so  I  thollnht  I  would  write  a  little  letter 
I  havr  a  Maltr-e  Kitten,  and  if  I  whi-llr  il  will 
j  u  nip  up  into  m\  la  [>  and  smell  my  month,  and  it 
will  stand  on  it-  hind  In  I  just  like  a  dog  I  _-,,l 
tour  v.-n  p.niv  \alrntinr-  yesterdaj  i 
lots  of  fnu  on  in\  rollei  ii.-s  in  lioth  \\inin 
and  -ammi  r  with  a  friend  of  mine  who  also  has 
a  pair  I  -m •--  I  can't  write  any  more  now. 
< l  !>>-.  AGNI 


Will  IS..T..V.  I  INTO:!!.. 

I  am  a  little  nirl.and  will  I" 

l''ri.la\      I  n..  t.,  -i-hooi     [  have  a  lovely  pet  kit- 

|  r    name    i-    snowdrop  :    sin-    i      pi 

whitr.  every  hair  of  her  :  she  Is  verj  Pondol  |il:i  \ 

in-      I  have  two  brothers  and  two  sisters.     I  was 

M  II    whrn    |  wa-  live  years 

old  I  earn.-  I,.  I  'a  uad  a  w  if  li  m\  pa  pa  aim  mamma. 

been  to  Minneapolis  and  •    en  times, 

and  lo  New-  York    .  ml  ia  Tin-,,,,  times 

•  IP ai  had  \  o,  -.,,  PI  i ,ri  i  - ,  ni  to  us  for  a 
I'hristmas  present  :  we  hope  we  may  take  it  al- 
ways  after  this.  We  are  delighted  with  "Nan." 

KIIM  v  .M.  U'. 


No    :i 

T\\  o  i  ia.--  \\  OKI,   r\  I'.^IAS. 
1.    First  in  \  i  ml  h.  not  in  aL-rr 
Se  , >nd  in  lad.  not  in  p 
Third  in  yacht,  not  in  ship. 
I  mirth  in  -hrip.  n.  it   in  -oat 
l-'iflh  in  yeast,  not  in  l,r.  ad. 
Sixth  in  w  n  ,te.  not  in  said. 
s'  ^  '  nt  h  in  sain-er,  not  in  clip, 
i  .mss  me  now.  or  nive  me  up. 
Mv  whole  is  a  traveller  sa-e  ami  irood. 
\\'ho  raml.led  far  hy  sea  and  w..od 

\  i  n  i     and    lii  98IB. 

','.  I-'irst  in  hand,  not  in  arm. 
Seeond  in  .-inner,  nol  in  charm. 
Third  in  e!a v.  not  ill  sod. 
l-'ourlh  in  hi\  e.  m  ,|  in  t  rod  . 
Fill  h  in  ei  anh.  nol  in  I. rush. 
sixth  iii  linht.  nol  in  crush. 
Seventh  in  nrape,  n.  ,1  in  vine. 
l-j^hl  h  in  hope,  not  in  pine. 
Ninth  in  ripe,  not  in  sour 
'I  •  in  li  in  minute,  nol  in  hour 
Whole  a  very  franrant    llower 

A\\  \   A.  Wm.MlT. 


K\ery  hoy  must  read  what  ,T,  II.  ha-  t, .  tell  : 

This  i-  the  lir-l  time  I  have  writl.-r 
oftiee  I'.ox.  lint  I  ha\e  read  man>  leitn-s  in  jf. 
al-..  what  yon  said  about  thai  dangerous  weapon, 
the  toy  pistol  I  loo  havr  had  somr  experience 
On  the  '-'d  of  .Inly  a  hoy  told  me  of  a  nice  liltle 
cannon  he  had  seen  in  a  sioiv  window  for  ten 
cents.  I  thought  that  would  lie  a  -..oil  chance 
forthe  Fourth,  s,,  1  ran  home,  not  my  money, 
and  l.onnht  the  cannon  without  tellinn  mamma 
anythinn  ahout  it.  How  I  had  to  renr.-t  il  after 
w  ard  '  The  next  eveninn  I  went  out  lo  slmw-  the 
boys  how  well  my  cannon  would  shoot.  The 
I  low  der  box  was  lel'r  open,  and  as  I  w  a-  bending 
over  it  a  spark  flew  in.  and  all  Ilie  po\v.|er  ex 
ploiled  in  mv  lace.  I  was  badly  burned,  and  had 
my  face  lied  up  for  over  a  mouth  1  hope  n,, 
other  boys  will  nave  to  go  through  the  same  trial. 
bin  I  have  learn,  d  a  nood  lesson — never  to  play 

with  powder  or  pistols.    [  am  eleven  years  old 

J.  it. 


. 

As  \oii  will  perceive  by  the  head  inn  of  my  let- 
ter. I  !i\  e  "  a  \\  a\  down  soul  h  in  Dixie  "  lam  ten 
yearsold  and  a  I'ai-mer'sdan-hter.  anil  live  in  the 
country  live'  miles  from  town.  I  helped  my  papa 
and  brother  pick  cot  ton.  bin  we  ha\  e  finished  now, 
and  as  there  is  no  .school  for  me  to  n"  to.  I  stay 
at  home  and  help  mamma.  1  have  live  sisters 


IM  ,u  POSTMISTRESS,  I  wonder  if  a  -randmo- 
Ih.T  may  Inn.-  admission  to  the  charmed  circle 
-a  th,  ih,-  I'osi  other  llox  llavinn 

-e.-n  that  one  ,,|  your  little  eorre-pondents  is  in 
trouble  about  her  canary,  which  has  strained 
its  voice.  1.  liavin-  had  one  similarly  situated. 
thought  I  would  tell  her  to  give  it  tins.' and  it  will 

t  ,   i   OVer  its  voice         l-'i-s  u'iVetl   w  hill-  t  he  birds  arc 

lyoultinn  will  keep  them  well,  -o  thai  they  will 
not  stoj,  sin-inn  I  keep  one  in  the  ca-e  all  the 

t  HIM 

IVrhaps  some  of  \,,ur  little  jrirls  would  like  to 
know  how  to  dispose  ot  some  ol  t  heir  pretty  pic- 
ture  cards.  Il  they  will  take  four  fans  that  open. 

take  off  the  ont-ide  handles,  join  them.  lea\  ini: 
1  he  -I  ems  on  I  side,  unite  them  in  the  cent  IV  1  ,\  a 

ribbon  bow.  draw  a  cord  throunh  so  the  fans 
open,  then  lack  il  on  thr  wall,  the  handles  make 
a  vcr\  |n-itl\  n-eeptacle  for  the  cards  The  fans 
ma\  be  all  a  I  ike.  or  two  alike  ;  either  way  makes 
a  very  bri-ht  litlle  beauty  spot  on  the  wall- 
MM!  now  grandmother  will  bid  the  little  boys  and 
nirls  nood-iiy 

Thank  you  very  much.  Craiidmothers  are  al- 
ways welcome  where  there  are  jiroups  of  lovinn 
children. 


AXSWHKS  To   ITXZI.KS   |  \    \,,    |;| 


No.  1. 


No.  2. 


P.TTsnunrai,  PK^•^psYI,VA^-IA. 

T  am  nine  years  old.  and  1  have  a  pocket  kite, 
and  I  have  a  box  of  blocks  with  which  1  can  make 
a  picture  of  Gulliver  and  the  little  people  of  Lil- 


s  II  o  T 

H  A  1,  O 

o  L  I  o 

T  O  O  L 

II 

E  Y   E 

HYENA 

END 

A 


L  O  T 

I'  o   L  A   R 

T   A  i< 

R 


o  I'  E  N 

I'  \  T  K 

K  T  \  \ 

N  I-:  A  R 

r. 

l:    A  T 

Ii   A    I)  E  N 

T    K  X 

N 


A   K   T 

C   R   V    E 

TED 

T 


No.  I 


Tiryden.     Burns. 
"Home,  Sweet  Home." 


Correct    answers   lo   |)ll//.les  ha\'e  been  scut    hv 

M.  B.  Cannon, George  II  Jacobs,  uinolrtt...  A.  T. 
I!  .  A.  M.  K  .  Krskine  Wrinht.  Arthur  II.  ,nu-lield. 
clmrlie  Hoiinsfield.  Halph  II.  Hoitt.  Arthur  II. 
Tiininerman.  Ellen  V  .  ^lamina's  (iirl.  Z..e  l!ry- 
ant,  Dora  Yarmouth.  Max  Eisemann.  John  Colt. 
Theo  and  Albert  De  Laliiat.-r.  I.  0.  Dix.  Fannie 
Hastings.  Jack  F..  Laura  s  Curtis,  charl.  .-  F 
\\ieiand.Loii  Is.  Al  Snow,  Reuben  Carver,  Josie 
W.,  Emily  Bliss,  Frank  L.,  Walter  Pyle.  Caroline 
J.  Lyman. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2</  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  .MOUSE  AND  THE  MARROW-BONE. 

A  -\iorsr  peeped  out  of  :i  marrow-bone 

\Vhich   Hi-lino  had  been   munching  : 
Tin1  bone  was  linril  :nnl  tough  :iml  .strong, 

The  hole  \vitliin  was  narrow. 
This  n|irnril   Uriino's  great   In-own  eyes 
In   wide  and  emnieal   surprise; 
He'd  gnawed,  and  gnawed,  and  gnawed  so  long 
On  that  great  bone  so  tough  ami  strong, 

And  yet   1 n  only  lunching, 

While  this  wee  lieast   crawled   in   to   feast 

I 'pun  tin-  very  marrow. 


SPIDERS  AND  THEIR  WEBS. 

THE  apparatus  by  means  of  which  a  spider  constructs  its  wel> 
is  situated  in  the  hinder  part  of  its  body,  and  consists  of 
live  principal  vessels,  or  internal  reservoirs,  in  which  the  gum- 
like  material  is  stored,  with  a  number  of  small  ones  at  their  base. 
From  these  little  flasks  or  bags  of  gum  tnb.-s  prneeeil  to  the  out- 


side spinnerets,  five  in  number,  which  may  be  seen  by  the  naked 
eye  in  large  spiders,  and  look  like  tine  tiny  knobs  surrounded  by 
a'circle.  On  examining  them  through  a  strong  niagnifying-glass 
they  "ill  be  seen  to  be  studded  with  about  a  thousand  minute 
bristle-like  points,  each  of  which  is  a  tube  connected  with  those 
reservoirs  inside  the  little  creature's  body:  these  points  arc- 
called  spinnerules. 

In  rope-making  manufactories  it  is  well  known  that  in  ropes 
of  equal  thickness  that  is  the  stronger  which  is  composed  of 
many  small  ones  twisted  together.  This  principle  has  been  car- 
ried out  by  the  all-wise  Creator  in  the  spider's  web.  From  each 
of  those  rive  thousand  spiiincrules  issues  a  thread  which  is  made 
up  of  many  of  quite  inconeei\  able  fineness.  A  great  naturalist, 
who  spent  much  time  in  studying  spiders  through  a  microscope, 
calculated  that  it  would  take  four  millions  of  the  tine  threads 
spun  by  a  tiny  spider  no  bigger  than  a  grain  of  saud  to  be  as 
thick  as  a  hair  of  his  own  beard.  Spiders  have  the  power  of 
shooting  out  these  gossamer-like  threads  from  their  little  bodies, 
and  they  generally  choose  to  do  it  in  the  direction  of  the  wind, 
so  that  the  thread  is  carried  by  it  to  a  distance  until  it  meets 
with  something  to  which  it  sticks. 

There  are  people  who  believe  that  the  spider  Hies  when  they 
see  her  pass  from  branch  to  branch,  and  even  from  one  high  tree 
to  another,  but  she  transports  herself  in  this  manner  :  she  places 
herself  upon  the  end  of  a  branch  and  I  here  fastens  her  thread, 
after  which  \\ith  her  two  hind-feet  she  presses  out  one  or  more 
threads, which  .she  leaves  to  lloat  in  the  air  until  they  be  tixed  to 
some  particular  place.  A  naturalist  made  an  experiment  in  this 
way:  he  procured  a  small  branched  t  wig  and  lixed  it  upright  in 
an  earthen  vessel  which  contained  waler,  and  on  the  twig  he 
placed  several  gossamer  spiders.  The  \\atcr  was  to  prevent  them 
getting  awa\  b\  an  y  ol  her  means  t  han  In  their  well.  Then  he 
set  himself  to  \\alch  I  hem.  If  I  here  was  a  natural  current  of 
air,  or  if  he  blew  sot'lly  with  his  breath,  the  spiders  turned  I  lien  i 
selves  toward  the  direction  whence  the  wind  came,  and  parllx 
raising  themselves, shot  out  from  their  spinnerets  t  hi  cads  which 
were  carried  out  in  a  line  In  ihe  mining  air.  .Next  the  spiders 
were  careful  to  lind  out  whether  the  ends  of  these  lines  had  be- 
come lirml\  atiachcd  to  aii\  ohjeci  or  not  by  pulling  at  them 
with  the  first  pair  of  legs:  when  satisfied  of  this,  after  tighten- 
ing them  siim'cienth,  lhe\  made  them  fast  to  the  twig:  then 
they  discharged  from  their  spiiinerules  a  little  more  of  the  liquid 
gum,  which  they  applied  to  the  spot  w  here  the\  stood,  and.  com 
mitting  themselves  to  this  bridge  of  their  <n\n  construction, 
they  passed  over  in  safety,  draw  ing  this  second  line  after  them 
to  use  in  case  the  lirst  gave  way. 


SOCIETY    NEWS. 
Mrs.  PIKS  ran  away  witli  a  fish  from  a  tray.  faster  Grunter  slid  to  school  on  his  slat.-. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


LLUSTRATED 


VOL    i 


PUBLISHED  i:v    IIAIJI'KII  ,V-    Ki;<  >TI!  KKS.  X,  w  VOKK. 


ri,-ii  i:   i  i\  i;  CENTS 


.   Hiiro  *  BIIUTIIIU. 


.M  JUT  VISIT,  in  Advance. 


LITTLE    MILKSnR- 


EASTER. 

r.v  TIIK  i:r:v.  (.KUI;I,I:  i;  i UOOKS,  D.D. 

[T^OR  nearly   two   thousand    years   Cliristiuns   have   ob- 
l      scrvc-il    Kastrr  in  memory  of  the  day  on  which  Jesus 


rose  from  the  gVave.  The  people  long  ages  ago  made 
ii  ;nl\  for  it  by  tasting,  at  first  for  forty  hours,  and  then 
for  a  longer  time,  until  the  fast  readied  the  length  of  forty 
days. 

If  we  go  back  fifteen  hundred  years  we  will  find  Con- 


322 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


stantinople.  which  is  now  ruled  by  the  Turk,  the  capital 
city  of  the  Christian  world.  It  was  a  more  beautiful  city 
then  than  now.  The  people  were  gay,  and  fond  of  the 
chariot  races  which  were  given  for  their  amusement.  The 
chariot-drivers  were  known  by  the  colors  they  wore,  and 
there  would  be  among  the  people  a  blue-ribbon  party  and 
a  red-ribbon  party,  and  they  would  shout  for  their  favor- 
ite chariot-drivers  as  if  their  lives  depended  on  the  witi- 
niiig  of  the  race.  On  Sundays  they  went  to  hear  their 
great  preacher,  John,  called  the  Golden  Mouth,  and  when 
he  pleased  them  with  his  eloquence  they  clapped  their 
hands  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  their  voices. 

When  the  long  fast  began,  the  bright  city  underwent  a 
total  change.  The  races  were  suspended,  the  street  cries 
were  subdued,  people  moved  to  and  fro  in  the  markets 
quietly,  and  the  nights  were  still.  But  all  this  was  very 
tiresome  to  a  part  of  the  population,  and  now  and  then 
there  would  be  a  chariot  race  in  spite  of  the  rules  of  the 
Church.  During  these  fast-days  the  whole  city  lived  on 
plain  food,  so  that  it  was  said  "there  was  no  difference 
between  the  table  of  the  Emperor  and  the  table  of  a  pool- 
man."  On  the  Sunday  before  Easter  the  "  great  week,''  as 
it  was  called,  began.  This  was  Palm-Sunday,  and  was 
observed  in  memory  of  Christ's  entry  into  Jerusalem, 
when  the  people  gathered  about  Him,  and  marched  with 
Him  down  the  .slope  of  Mount  Olivet,  carrying  green 
branches  in  their  hands. 

The  Emperors  made  this  a  special  day  for  pardoning 
criminals,  so  that  many  prisoners  were  glad  to  see  Palm- 
Sunday  come.  Every  day  of  the  "great  week"  was  kept 
with  a  solemn  service.  In  one  city  it  was  the  custom  on 
Good-Friday  to  worship  in  the  grave-yard  beyond  the 
walls,  because,  they  said,  Christ  was  crucified  outside  the 
gates  of  Jerusalem.  The  next  day,  Saturday,  was  the 
"great  Sabbath."  so  called  because  on  that  Sabbath,  ac- 
cording to  Jewish  reckoning,  Christ  lay  in  the  grave. 
Thousands  were  now  baptized,  and  put  on  white  robes  as  a 
sign  of  purity. 

When  the  evening  came,  Constantinople  and  all  the 
chief  cities  of  the  empire  were  illuminated.  They  appear- 
ed to  be  masses  of  fire  ;  the  people  went  through  the 
streets  to  their  churches  carrying  lighted  torches,  and 
there  they  watched  all  night  for  the  dawning  of  the  Res- 
urrection-day. When  the  light  of  Easter  appeared  there 
was  a  universal  shout  of  joy. 

Besides  expressing  joy  by  song  and  worship  in  the 
church,  it  was  customary  to  seek  out  and  relieve  on  East- 
er-day the  poor  and  the  needy,  as  we  do  now  at  Christ- 
mas. But  the  week  after  Easter  was  a  holy  week  too,  and 
at  the  end  of  it,  on  the  Sunday,  all  who  had  put  on  the 
while  robes  of  baptism  laid  them  off;  as  this  was  the  last 
day  of  their  appearance  in  white,  it  was  called  the  "White- 
Sunday."  All  through  the  fourteen  days  beginning  with 
Palm-Sunday  the  courts  were  closed,  no  lawsuits  were 
tried,  and  the  people  tried  to  live  in  peace  with  each 
other. 

Such  were  the  means  used  by  the  Church  in  those  far- 
off  times  to  express  its  thanks  for  what  Christ  has  done 
for  the  world  by  His  death  and  resurrection.  But  old 
customs  pass  away,  and  new  customs  come  in;  still  the 
world  does  not  forget  Easter.  In  Russia  the  people  greet 
each  other  on  Easter  morning,  saying,  "The  Lord  is  ris-  I 
en."  and  answering,  "The  Lord  is  risen  indeed."  In  Je- 
rusalem ii  church  has  been  built  over  the  place  where  it  j 
is  supposed  Christ  was  buried.  Here  the  half-barbarous 
Greeks  wait  011  Easter-eve  for  the  bursting  of  the  holy 
fire  from  the  hollowed  rock.  Thousands  gather  about 
the  spot,  and  as  soon  as  the  fire  appears,  candles  are  lit 
from  it,  and  carried  to  the  churches  and  their  homes. 
In  the  rushing  from  the  sepulchre  after  the  flame  is  kin- 
dled many  are  trampled  down,  and  some  at  times  have 
been  killed.  Different  from  these  scenes  is  the  quiet  re- 
membrance of  Easter  in  Protestant  Europe  and  America. 


In  many  Protestant  churches  Easter  is  the  day  for  receiv- 
ing new  members,  especially  the  young. 

Many  beautiful  hymns  which  celebrate  the  glories  of 
Easter  have  come  down  to  us  from  the  far-off  times.  One 
of  them  has  been  turned  into  English  thus: 

"'Tis  the  day  of  Resurrection; 

Earth,  tell  it  out  abroad ! 
The  Passover  of  Gladness, 

The  Passover  of  Cod  ! 
From  death  to  life  eternal, 

From  earth  unto  the  sky, 
Our  Christ  hath   brought  us  over 

With  hymns  of  victory. 

"Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil, 

That  we  may  see  aright 
The  Lord,  in  rays  eternal 

Of  resurrection  light ; 
And  listening  to  His  accents, 

May  hear  so  calm  and  plain 
His  (in-ii  All  Jlnil !  and  hearing, 

May  raise  the  victor  strain  ! 

"  Now  let  the  heavens  be  joyful ! 

Let  earth  her  song  begin ! 
Let  the  round  world  keep  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein: 
Invisible  and  visible, 

Their  notes  let  all  things  blend, 
For  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen, 

Our  Joy,  that  hath  no  end." 

More  than  a  thousand  years  ago  this  hymn  was  written, 
and  in  those  years  has  been  read  and  sung  by  Christians. 
But  in  all  languages  which  Christians  speak  Easter  hymns 
have  been  written.  Old  monks,  whose  lives  were  hid 
away  in  cells,  and  who  talked  to  each  other  in  crabbed 
Latin,  made  the  Latin  musical  when  they  wove  its  words 
together  into  Easter  songs.  And  men  who,  like  Luther, 
came  out  of  the  cells  wrote  and  sang  too  of  the  Easter 
day.  One  of  Luther's  hymns  has  this  verse: 

"That  was  a  wondrous  war,  I  trow, 

When  life  and  death  together  fought  : 
But  life  has  triumphed  o'er  his  foe; 

Death  is  mocked  and  set  at  naught; 
'Tis  e'en  as  Scripture  saith, 
Christ  through  death  has  conquered  death." 

This  is  the  meaning  of  the  Easter  festival.  It  is  the 
festival  of  the  East,  that  is,  of  the  rising  Sun,  which  drives 
the  darkness  of  night  away.  Men  are  only  too  glad  that 
Christ  has  conquered  death,  and  their  joy  keeps  alive  the 
remembrance  of  Easter  from  age  to  age. 


PxAISING    THE   "PEARL." 

BY      J  _-Y  ]VI  K  S      OTIS, 

ATTIIOR  OF  "  TOBY  TTLER,"  "  TIM  AND  TIP,"  "  MR.  STUBES'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ON    DOLLAR    ISLAND. 

WHEN  Bobby  stood  on  the  beach  watching  Tommy 
Tucker  and  Ikey  Jones  as  they  sailed  slowly  away, 
he  realized  that  it  was  110  longer  possible  for  him  to  leave 
the  island  until  some  boat  should  pass  that  way,  or  come 
directly  to  their  assistance. 

Bad  as  such  a  position  was,  Bobby  did  not  look  upon  it 
as  the  worst  of  his  troubles.  He  had  yet  to  meet  Captain 
Sainmy.  and  explain  what  he,  who  had  been  left  in  charge, 
was  doing  when  the  pirates  stole  the  boat.  This  he  con- 
sidered was  a  trouble  by  the  side  of  which  being  obliged 
to  remain  on  the  island  any  number  of  days  seemed  like 
a  pleasure. 

Bobby  knew  that  he  ought  to  have  resisted  with  force 
any  attempt  to  take  the  boat,  and  he  feared  that  Captain 
Sammy,  in  the  absence  df  the  real  culprits,  might  punish 
him. 


MARCH  27,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


323 


He  continued  to  run  back  and  forth  on  tin-  beach,  im- 
ploring  Tommy  to  return,  but  making  no  attempt  to  warn 
I  in-  others  of  the  evil  that  had  been  wrought,  for  Captain 
Sammy's  coming  \vas  worse  than  Tommy's  going. 

|,n:    I  lobby  uas   not    left   IOIILJ    ill    iiin-ertainty  as  to  what 

the  little  man  might  say  or  do,  for  while  he  was  still  intenl 
on  tryinir  to  persuade  the  runaways  lo  return,  he  heard  a 
most  unwelcome  and  grill!'  voice  call  out  from  the  thicket 
behind  him  : 

••Hello!  What's  in  tin-  wind  now.'  \Vhat  are  you 
kicking  ii]>  such  a  row  about  '." 

For  a  moment  the  unhappy  boy  could  make  no  answer, 
and  while  he  thus  hesitated,  the  little  ('aplaiu  came  into 
view,  and  looked  in  surprise  a!  I'.ohhy.  without  missinir 
his  boat. 

"  What's  the  matter  \\  ilh  you  :  What  are  you  veiling: 
so  about  '."  he  asked,  impatiently. 

"They've  ".-one!  thev've  M-OI  ie !"  cried  r>obh\.  pointing 
to  the  boat,  whose  occupants  were  now  making  every  ex- 
ertion to  get  away  even  from  the  sound  of  the  one 
man's  voice.  Tommy  had  laid  aside  his  dignil y  of  Cap- 
tain for  the  time  beiii";.  and  was  lii^nc.;-  away  at  one  of 
the  oars  as  if  he  feared  pursuit,  even  though  he  knew  it 
was  impossible. 

Captain  Sammy  gazed  out  over  the  water,  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand,  as  if  it  u  as  ditlicult  for  him  to  believe 
that  he  was  not  deceived,  and  then  he  looked  down  at  the 
place  where  his  boat  should  have  been,  too  much  surprised 
even  for  words. 

Dare  and  Charley  had  come  up  beside  him.  and  they 
too  were  at  a  loss  to  understand  it  all. 

"It's  Tommy  Tucker;  he's  taken  the  boat."  cried  Hob- 
by, growing  more  frightened  at  this  unaccountable  silence 
on  the  part  of  the  Captain.  "They've  stolen  her.au' 
e-oi IV  to  be  pira'e^ ' 

"Comeback  here,  you  rascals! — come  back  here  !"  shout- 
ed ( 'antain  Sammy,  as  he  reali/cd  all  that  had  been  done; 
and  then,  with  a  quick,  aim  r\  movement  he  unfastened 
his  wooden  lee-,  and  stood  witli  it  in  his  hand  as  if  imcer 
tain  whether  or  not  he  should  throw  it  at  them.  "(  !ome 
back  here,  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body  [" 

The  boys  in  the  boat  made  no  reply,  but  rowed  \\ith 
all  their  strength,  until  Tommy,  in  his  eagerness,  dipped 
too  deep,  ••caujrht  a  crab. "and  fell  over  back-ward  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat,  a  confused  mass  of  gorgeous  piratical 
uniform  and  frightened  box  . 

Pare  and  ('barley  ran  down  on  the  beach,  as  if  they 
thought  they  might  do  Some  good  by  thus  getting  nearer 
to  the  runaways,  while  Captain  Sammy,  without  stopping 
to  think  that  he  still  held  his  leg  in  his  hand,  attempted 
to  do  the  same  thing. 

Of  course  there  could  be  but  one  ending  to  such  a  start, 
and  when  the  angry  and  forgetful  little  man  attempted  to 
step  on  the  leg  that  was  no  longer  in  its  accustomed  place, 
he  very  nearly  turned  a  somersault,  and  came  rolling 
down  on  the  beach,  very  much  to  his  own  disadvantage, 
and  frightening  Bobby  almost  out  of  what  few  senses  still 
remained  to  him. 

Captain  Sammy  choked  and  sneezed,  because  of  the  sand 
that  had  gone  down  his  throat  and  up  into  his  nose,  while 
Dare  and  Charley  had  considerable  trouble  to  keep  from 
laughing  at  the  comical  appearance  he  presented. 

This  accident  did  not  lessen  Captain  Sammy's  anger, 
and  when  at  last  he  succeeded  in  standing  on  his  one  foot, 
he  was  in  a  fine  state  of  rage.  He  began  to  realize  that 
he  could  effect  nothing  by  holding  his  wooden  leg  in  bis 
hand,  while  he  might  work  himself  further  injury  if  it 
was  not  placed  where  it  belonged ;  so  he  put  it  on  at  once. 

"How  did  it  happen?  how  did  they  get  her?"  he  de- 
manded, furiously,  as  he  turned  to  Bobby  with  a  threaten- 
ing gesture. 

Although  Bobby  was  not  a  brave  boy,  he  could  never 
be  accused  of  lying,  even  when  the  truth  was  as  much 


against  him  as  it  was  in  this  case,  and  with  no  little  hesi- 
tation and  shame  he  related  the  events  as  they  had  oc- 
curred 

"  \Vhy  didn't  you  stop  them  ?  Why  didn't  you  chew 
'em  all  up.'"  demanded  Captain  Sammy,  furiously. 

Bobby  thought  it  was  absurd  in  the  Captain  to  talk 
about  his  chewing  two  pirates  up.  and  he  replied,  almost 
piteously, 

"1  couldn't;  there  were  two  of  them,  and  thev  said 
the\  d  serve  me  out  if  I  tried  to  stop  them." 

"  Serve  you  on  I  '."  sneered  (.'a  plain  Sammy.  "  Why.  they 
couldn't  have  done  any]  hing  if  you'd  only  dared  to  go  up 
an'  knock  their  heads  lordlier." 

There  was  a  difference  of  opinion  between  Bobby  and 
the  ( 'a  plain  as  to  what  Tommy  and  I  key  could  have  done; 
but  I'.obhy  thought  ii  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  make 
the  angry  man  view  the  matter  in  the  same  light  he  did, 
so  he  remained  silent. 

"  I  low  did  they  get  over  heie  '."  asked  the  little  man. 
afti  i  lie  had  relieved  his  mind  somewhat  by  shaking  his 
li>t  savagely  at  the  retreating  pirates. 

Then  Hobby  told  what  Tommy  had  said  about  coming 
over  in  an  old  boat,  and  Captain  Sammy  started  around 
the  beach  to  lind  her.  tilled  with  the  hope  that  she  might 
serve  as  a  means  of  pursuit.  But  one  glance  at  the  boat. 
after  they  had  found  her,  was  sullicient  to  show  that  no- 
thing could  he  done  \\  ilh  her.  She  was  so  old  and  worm- 
eaten  that  it  was  a  wonder  she  had  held  together  long 
enough  to  bring  the  boys  over.  The  Wise  Men  of  (iolh 
am  who  went  to  -(  a  m  a  bowl  had  a  better  craft  than  she 


<  'aptain  Sammy  looked  at  her  in  silence  for  some  time. 
and  then  he  said, 

"  Well,  this  in  a  nice  kelt  Ie  of  lish,  an'  no  mistake  !" 

"How  are  we  going  to  get  home  ;"  asked   Dare,  think 
ing  of  what  his  mother  would  suffer  if  they  were  not  with 
her  by  night. 

"That's  jest  it!  that's  jest  it  !"  cried  Captain  Sammy, 
again  giving  way  to  his  anger.  "Oh,  how  I  wish  I  had 
hold  of  them  precious  villains  for  a  little  while!  They'd 
u  i-,h  they  really  u  as  pirates.  I'll  tell  you  how  we're  goill' 
to  fret  home.  We're  goin'  to  stay  here  till  somebody  comes 
along  an'  lakes  us  oil',  an'  we  may  be  here  a  week,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  for  nobody  would  understand  any  signals 
we  could  make  from  here.  It's  worse  than  a  regular  ship- 
wreck." 

For  some  lime  the  party  .stood  in  silent  despair,  the 
boys  thinking  of  the  fears  which  would  beset  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Evans  at  their  absence,  and  Captain  Sammy  wondering  if 
sleeping  in  the  open  air  would  not  be  sure  to  bring  on  an 
attack  of  his  old  enemy  the  rheumatism. 

"  It  won't  do  any  good  to  set  here."  said  the  little  man 
at  length,  speaking  in  a  more  cheerful  tone.  "  We're  here 
for  a  while  anyhow,  an'  we.  might  as  well  make  the  best 
of  it.  How  are  we  off  for  provisions  ?" 

There  was  no  need  for  any  one  to  reply  to  the  question, 
for  the  moment  it  was  asked  each  one  knew  that  the  only 
things  they  had  taken  out  of  the  boat  on  their  arrival  were 
the  axes,  and  the  pirates  had  not  only  captured  a  boat, 
but  they  had  gotten  one  that  was  provisioned  for  several 
hours  at  least. 

"  Well,  we  shall  have  to  suck  our  thumbs  for  a  while. 
at  any  rate,"  said  the  little  Captain,  as  if  he  had  resolved 
to  bear  his  troubles  as  cheerfully  as  possible.  "  We  will 
build  up  a  fire  in  the  hope  that  some  one  in  Tampa  may 
see  the  smoke  an'  come  over  here  to  find  out  the  meaning 
of  it.  And  since  you  boys  came  here  for  timber  for  your 
rafts,  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  begin  cutting  it. 
The  work  will  keep  you  contented,  and  you  won't  be  wast- 
ing your  time." 

Bobby,  who  should  have  done  something  toward  pre- 
venting the  misfortune  that  had  come  upon  them,  was 
charged  with  the  work  of  building  the  fire  signal  and 


321 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


keeping  it  going,  while  Dare  and  Charley  started  about 
what  was  really  the  first  work  connected  with  raising  the 
Pearl. 

It  was  then  hardly  more  than  ten  o'clock,  and  the\'  had 
quite  a  long  day  before 
them  in  which  to  work, 
even  if  they  were  prison- 
ers on  a  lonely  island. 

All  hands  went  to  w<  >rk 
with  a  will,  and  while 
Dare  and  Charley  were 
blistering  their  hands  in 


The  little  Captain  had  had  no  voice  in  the  selection  of 
the  camp,  for  after  he  had  given  the  boys  all  the  oysters 
they  wanted  for  dinner,  he  seemed  to  have  lost  his  cheer- 
fulness, and  had  fallen  into  a  moody  silence. 

It  was  after  Dare  and 
Charley  had  decided  upon 
the  camping  ground  that 
they  went  to  the  point  of 
reef  on  which  Captain 
Sammy  was  sitting,  envel- 
oped in  a  cloud  of  tobacco 
smoke. 

"We  think  we  had  bet- 
ter camp  for  the  night  near 
the  lire,  sir,"  said  Dare, 
"and  if  you  have  no  objec- 
tions, we  will  put  up  some 
kind  of  a  shelter.7' 

"It  don't  make  much  dif- 
ference where  we  lay,  my 
lad,"  said  the  little  man, 
without  looking  up.  "  I'll 
be  sure  to  have  the  rheuma- 
tiz  anyhow,  an'  it's  no  odds 
to  me  whether  it  comes 
when  I'm  layin'  on  1 1n- 
ground  or  settin'  here  1>\- 
the  water.  But  I'll  show 
that  Tucker  boy  what  a  pi- 
rate is  when  I  get  hold  of 
him." 


FOREIGN  PARTS. 

BY  WILLIAM  O.  STODDAHH. 


"WHY    DIDN'T    YOU    C1IKW    'KM    ALL    UP?" 

their  efforts  to  hew  down  the  largest  trees,  Captain  Sam- 
my busied  himself  with  gathering  the  tiny  oysters  that 
were  fastened  to  the  rocks  just  below  the  surface  of  the 
water. 

These  little  shell-fish  were  very  acceptable  to  the  boys, 
who  had  grown  hungry  the  moment  they  knew  their  food 
had  been  carried  away,  and  thanks  to  the  lunch  the  little 
man  brought  them,  they  were  able  to  keep  at  tl*eir  work 
all  the  more  closely. 

Captain  Sammy  had  a  small  canteen  of  water  with  him 
when  he  left  the  boat,  and  the  contents  of  this  he  doled 
out  very  sparingly,  but  in  such  quantities  that  they  did 
not  really  suffer  from  thirst. 

By  six  o'clock  the  boys  had  felled  and  trimmed  off  the 
branches  of  ten  trees,  a  sufficient  number,  in  Captain  Sam- 
my's opinion,  to  form  the  heavier  portion  of  the  rafts  thcy 
wanted  to  build.  It  was  then  time  to  make  some  ar- 
rangements for  a  place  to  sleep  that  night,  since  it  was 
hardly  probable  any  one  would  come  to  their  rescue  be- 
fore the  next  day. 

Bobby  had  kept  the  signal  fire  burning  all  day,  and 
after  some  consultation  it  was  decided  that  they  should 
use  the  level  piece  of  ground  just  back  of  it  as  their  camp- 
ing place. 


big   south  room    in 
the  "wing"   of  Prome 
Centre     Academy     always 
had  more  boys  and  'j-irls  in 

it  than  any  other  room  in  the  building.  Some  of  the 
others  had  boys  in  them,  and  some  had  girls,  but  this 
was  what  old  Squire  Cud  worth  called  "the  mixed  -pickles 
room."  Miss  Eccles  had  made  a  quiet  place  of  it  ever 
since  the  first  time  she  rapped  on  the  table  with  her  rul- 
er, but  there  had  never  before,  during  any  live  minutes. 
been  so  little  Invatliiiig  done  in  that  room  as  there  was 
at  the  close  of  school  on  the  first  Friday  in  May. 

It  took  Miss  Eccles  just  five  minutes  to  tell  the  schol- 
ars that  to-morrow  would  be  Saturday,  and  that  the  new- 
railroad  had  offered  to  take  the  whole  Academy,  except 
the  building  and  the  desks  and  benches,  on  a  free  excur- 
sion to  the  city,  thirty  miles  north  of  Prome  Centre.  All 
were  to  beat  the  railway  station  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  bring  their  lunches  with  them;  and  every 
five  children  could  bring  along  a  grown-up  person  to  take 
care  of  them  ;  and  they  would  have  three  hours  in  the  cil  v 
to  see  the  sights,  and  they  would  all  get  home  safe  il'  no 
thing  happened. 

Such  long  breaths  as  they  all  drew  when  she  tinished 
her  speech!  And  half  the  girls  waited,  after  school,  to 
ask-  questions,  but  not,  one  hoy  had  a  thing  to  ask  till  the\ 
got  out  on  the  green.  Then  every  fellow  turned  to  the 
nearest  other  fellow  and  said,  pivlly  nearly  what  linn 
(Jales  said  to  Rube  Hollenhouser  : 
"  Isn't  it  great,  though  :" 

"Gruess  it  is,  "replied  Rube  —  "only  it  can't  be  done." 
"  I'd  like  to  know  why  it  can't." 

'"Cause  there's  two  hundred  and  fifty  that    go  to  the 

Academy,  and  all  the  fellows  that  have  brothers  and  sis- 

ters '11  bring  them;  and  the  fellows  thai   don't  Uo  to  the 

\radrmy  they'll  all  come;  and  there'll  he  all  the  grown- 


M  Mil  II   21,  1883. 


IIAKl'KR'S  YOUNG  PKol'I.K. 


325 


up  people.  Do  you  s'pose  any  one  railroad  can  carry  such 
:i  croud  as  that  '." 

"  I  don't  call-,  anyhow.  Guess  we'll  be  there  in  time. 
A  fellow  can  see  a  good  deal  in  a  city  in  three  hours." 

"  ll   isn't  t  In-  biuiyest  kind  »f  a  city." 

••  It's  IHLJ  ger  than  I  Y<  >me  <  lentre." 

There  could  he  no  dispute  a-  to  thai,  hut  when  the  ex- 
cursion train  couched  and  whistled  n|i  tn  tlic  platform  at 
tli'-  railway  station  the  next  morning,  there  was  a  large 
amount  of  vexation  because  Uulte's  prophecy  had  been 
looked  out  Tor. 

Tin-re  was  Miss  Kceles  at  the  door,  and  all  the  other 
teachers  had  heen  standin-j  hy  her  ever  since  a  little  after 
eiuht  o'clock,  and  they  had  heen  mean  enough  to  point 
out  to  the  man  who  irave  the  tickets  around  just  \\hich 

ones  really  went  to  the  Academy.  Thej  even  shutout 
three  boys  and  a  uiH  who  wenl  theri  lasl  >  ear.  and  six 

of  all   sorl-   u  lio   said   I  lie\    meant   to  \,<  M-in   to  < e   in   t  lu- 


ll was  easy  enough  to  arrange  aliout  the  older  people, 
for  the  railway  man  said  there  weren't  b  igh  of 

them  to  keep  such  a  crowd  out  of  mi-chief,  and  old  Squire 
Cud  worth  and  1  >»\(  /im  i  e-i  uall\  hough'  and  paid 

for  I  ickels   for  I  liemsel  ,  - 

The  railroad  \\as  very  po]iular  that  moriiimj-  with  all 
the  hoys  and  girls  who  mana-ed  to  'jet  t  ImniLrh  the  Sta- 
tion-house and  into  a  car.  but  tin-re  was  a  hitter  feeling 
airain-t  il  left  hehind  amoni:  some  of  the  most  active 
\  ouiiL1'  people  iii  or  a  1  »>i it  1 'ron ie  (  'c -n Ire. 

"  Hun,"  exclaimed  1,'iihe.  at  lifteen  minutes  past  nine, 
"did  you  heal- that  thing  whistle  .'  She's  a  going." 

"  I  lold  on  tight,  Unhe.       She'll    jerk  u  hen  she  starts.'' 

"  No,  she  won't.  See 
there,  now  !  She  goes  oil' 
just  as  easy  |" 

ll  was  wonderful  (license 
wit  h  w  Inch  thai  locomotive 
walked  away  up  the  track, 
with  all  those  cars  hehind 
her.  and  ever\  ear  packed 
full  of  happiness  and  a  lit 
I  Ie  anxiety.  The  railway 

had  onl\  reached  I  Y<  ime  a 

few  weeks  before  thai,  and 
it  \\  as  hardly  in  good  run- 
ning" order  now,  and  Squire 
(  'ud  worth  declared  : 

"  This  ere's  a  mighty 
risky  business,  but  I  s'pose 
I  he\  must  do  something-  for 
poppleairitx  and  to  keep 
people  from  staiM-  -  riding 
and  going  afoot.  1  ain't 
in  any  hurry  to-day,  and 
I  thought  1  wouldn't  walk 
this  t  ime." 

Squire  Cud  worth  made 
a  good  deal  of  fun  for  the 
young  folks  in  his  car.  hut 
the  Academy  boy  sand  girls 
were  more  in  awe  than  ever 
of  .Miss  Eccles.  That  dar- 
ing woman  went  from  end 
to  end  of  that  train  while 
it  was  in  motion.  She  veil 

tu red  right  011  from  car  to  car  until  she  had  told  them  all 
to  sit  still  and  not  put  their  heads  out  of  the  windows  and 
have  I  hem  knocked  oft'. 

"Hear  that,  Rube  }"  said  Bun  Gates. 

"  ( I  ness  I  did.  They  wouldn't  stop  this  train,  the  wax- 
it's  a-going  now,  just  to  run  back  and  pick  up  a  fellow's 
hat  for  him." 

It  was  grand  fun,  though,  to  look  out  of  the  windows 


and  see  the  trees  and  houses  and  fences  go  by  so  fast. 
Bun  Gates  just  had  time  to  point  once  and  say. 

"See  that  cow  > — she's  just  like  old  Chittenden's  new 
brindle."  when  lluhe  was  justified  in  replying, 

"Cow! — that's  a  flock  of  sheep.'' 

"They're  gone  too  now.  Isn't  this  a  great  way  of 
travelling?  It's  aw  I'ul.  though.  If  you  run  off  the  track, 
there's  no  telling  where  you'll  go  to." 

"There  wouldn't  he  anything  left  of  Prome  Centre 
Academy." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  kill  !Mis.-  Kceles.  She  knows 
all  about  railroads." 

The  very  excitement  and  novelt\  of  it  kepi  them  all 
reasonably  -till,  and  the  conductor  said  he  was  proud  of 
them,  and  so  was  Mi.-s  Kceles,  but  the  other  teachers  did 
not  make  any  remarks,  and  the  Academ\  1  Yincipal  was  in 
the  very  front  car.  with  his  wife  and  his  molher-in-law, 
and  six  of  his  own  children  and  two  of  their  aunts,  and 
about  half  of  the  Board  of  Trustees.  K\-erybod\  knew  thai 

he  had  all  he-  could  attend  to.  and  so  they  did  not  expect 
any  more  of  him. 

"Rube,"  Maid  I'.ill  Chillendeii,  just  a  little  before  they 
reached  the  city,  "ain't  \»\\  tired  :  I've  been  trying  M..I 
to  sit  down  heavy  till  I  can't  stand  it  much  longer." 

"Have  yez,  thin  ?"  interrupted  Keli\   McCue.      "\Vud 
the  railroad   he   throubled   if  wan  more  Hy  lit  on  it  some 
where?      Ye' II    have  to  ate  more'n   ye  do    now  before  the 
weight  of  ye'll  count  wid  a  railroad." 

Bill  Chittenden  was  about  I  he  thinnest  boy  that  lived  at 
his  end  of  the  village  of  Prome  Centre,  but  it  was  cruel  of 
Felix  McCue  to  tell  him  so  in  that  way.  He  fore  he  had 
time- to  say  anything  about  Felix's  light  with  the  railroad 


-  -r  6  -    '  '    '  '- 

i       >  '  '      v 

^^_  .  .,          ,  .       ^s 


• 


•THEY    ARE    PULLING    THE    MULES    OUT." 


men  when  they  tore  down  his  mother's  pig  pen  the  loco- 
motive whistled  to  let  the  city  know  the  train  had  come, 
and  the  whole  Academy  knew  at  once  where  it  was. 

"Bun,"  said  Rube,  "we've  got  three  hours.  Where 
are  you  going,  first  thing  ?" 

"Going  to  see  the  canal.  Father  told  me  to.  It's 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  city,  and  maybe  they'll  take  it 
away  now  they're  making  so  many  railroads.  Mother 


326 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


says  I  rode  on  it  once  with  her  when  I  was  a  little  chap, 
but  I  don't  remember  a  word  of  it." 

Rube  agreed  that  the  canal  must  be  worth  seeing,  but 
insisted  that  he  had  seen  it  before,  and  would  know  when 
they  came  to  it.  Felix  McCue  saw  them  slipping  away 
from  the  crowd,  and  he  darted  after  them  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

"That's  it,  b'ys.  There's  more  fun  wid  three  than 
there  is  wid  three  hundred.  I'm  wid  ye." 

Felix  was  a  good  fellow  to  have  along,  and  they  were  a 
full  square  down  the  street  before  the  Academy  ' '  proces- 
sion" could  be  formed  at  the  city  railway  station.  There 
was  another  railroad  that  ran  through  the  city  from  east 
to  west,  and  there  might  be  a  dozen  for  all  the  boys  knew, 
but  they  could  plainly  perceive  that  the  street  they  were 
following  led  right  011  toward  where  the  houses  seemed  to 
be  tallest  and  thickest.  The  further  they  went,  the  more 
people  they  met,  and  Felix  McCue  remarked,  "If  they'd 
lock  arms  and  walk  slow,  there'd  be  a  procission  of  'em." 

"That's  what  our  Academy's  doing  now,''  said  Rube. 
"  They  won't  see  half  what  we  will." 

"Boys,"  exclaimed  Bun,  "there's  a  bridge  straight 
ahead.  That's  where  the  canal  is." 

They  walked  a  little  faster  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  and 
there  it  was,  right  before  them.  It  was  wide  enough  for 
three  canals,  and  all  the  way  between  two  high-arched 
bridges,  but  when  it  came  to  either  of  these  it  narrowed  to 
the  width  of  a  common  road. 

"That's  what  father  called  the  basin,"  said  Bun. 
' '  Look  at  the  boats !" 

There  were  several  of  them,  long,  heavy-sided  affairs, 
and  no  two  were  alike.  There  were  three  at  the  bank, 
as  if  they  were  unloading,  or  loading,  or  taking  a  rest,  but 
all  the  others  were  in  motion. 

"Takes  two  horses  to  pull  "em."  said  Bun.  "Look 
over  yonder." 

"That  boat's  only  got  one  horse." 

"  Luk  at  the  nixt  wan,"  said  Felix.  "Thinfs  mules. 
Oh,  but  the  ears  of  thim's  worth  seeing!" 

There  were  not  many  nniles  in  use  near  Prorne  Centre, 
and  this  was  an  especially  interesting  pair.  The  one  in 
front,  on  the  tow-path  of  the  canal,  was,  as  Bun  said  of 
him,  "very  small  for  his  ears,"  and  the  mule  behind  was 
described  by  Felix  McCue  as  "the  biggest  mule  that  iver 
had  ears  put  onto  him." 

He  was  large,  indeed,  but  his  goodness  was  not  in  pro- 
portion to  his  size,  for  at  that  very  moment  he  was  pre- 
paring to  make  a  disturbance.  His  driver  had  rashly 
halted  him,  for  some  reason,  and  there  was  no  telling 
when  he  would  make  up  his  mind  to  go  on  again. 

"Rube,"  said  Bun,  "he's  backing." 

"It's  the  way  of  thim,"  said  Felix.  "It's  the  ownly 
way  yiz  can  get  worruk  out  of  some  of  thim.  Put  thim 
wid  their  heads  to  the  waggiii  and  they'll  back  wid  yez  all 
day." 

However  that  might  be,  the  big  mule  was  backing  now, 
and  there  was  a  tremendous  hubbub  011  the  tow-nath  and 
on  that  boat  and  on  another  boat  a  little  behind,  and  a 
great  many  people  seemed  to  find  the  matter  worth  look- 
ing at. 

"Bun,  he's  pointed  wrong,"  shouted  Rube.  "If  lie 
backs  three  feet  more  in  that  direction — 

"He's  pulling  the  little  mule  right  along  with  him," 
said  Bun. 

"  He'd  pull  the  canal,"  said  Felix.      "  There  he  goes!" 

A  great  shout  along  the  tow-path  greeted  the  perverse 
success  of  the  big  mule,  for  he  not  only  backed  into  the 
canal  on  his  own  account,  but  he  drew  after  him  his  un- 
lucky companion. 

"It's  the  big  splash  they  made!"  exclaimed  Felix. 
"But  they  can  both  swim,  and  they're  not  backin'  now." 

The  sudden  plunge  into  cold  water  may  have  cooled  the 
big  mule's  temper,  hut  it  seemed  as  if  everybody  else's 


temper  were  lost  entirely,  and  the  boat  also  lost  her  steer- 
age-way and  began  to  yaw  around.  Just  at  that  moment 
a  still  bigger  boat  was  coming  through  under  the  bridge, 
and  the  man  who  was  steering  it  looked  at  the  mules  in 
the  water  instead  of  minding  his  business. 

It  was  all  the  fault  of  the  big  mule,  of  course,  but  Felix 
hardly  had  time  to  say, 

"B'ys,  luk  at  them!"  when  the  two  boats  came  tog;  I  In  T 
with  a  great  thump,  and  you  could  hear  the  crash  of 
something  breaking. 

"Boys,"  exclaimed  Bun,  "I  wouldn't  have  missed  it 
for  anything!  Would  you  ?  Hear  that  fellow  !" 

They  could  hear  the  man  on  the  deck  of  the  mules'  own 
boat  shout  to  the  man  on  the  other  deck, 

"You've  done  it  now." 

"Guess  you're  stove  in." 

"Stove?  Guess  so.  We'll  be  on  the  bottom  in  five 
minutes." 

"Hear  that?"  said  Rube.  "Isn't  he  a  brave  fellow, 
though  ?  Not  a  bit  scared,  and  his  boat's  a-sinking  under 
him.  I've  read  of  sailors  going  down  with  their  ship,  but 
I  never  saw  it  done  before." 

"Where's  the  rest  of  the  crew?"  said  Bun.  "Guess 
they  haven't  any  passengers  to  speak  of." 

They  heard  the  man  on  deck  say  just  then,  in  answer  to 
a  question : 

' '  Cargo  of  salt  in  barr'ls.  Wish  they'd  salted  down 
them  mules  'fore  ever  they  hitched  'em  on  to  haul  for  me." 

It  was  very  bad  for  the  salt,  and  for  the  mules,  and  for 
that  boat,  and  for  the  canal. 

Down  she  went,  lower  and  lower,  faster  and  faster,  un- 
til just  as  the  boys  drew  a  long  breath,  and  Bun  whisper- 
ed, loudly,  "Six  inches  more,  and  she's  under, "the  boat 
stopped  sinking,  and  the  man  on  deck  shouted, 

"Touched  bottom!  Here  we  are!  Now  you  just  get 
by  us  if  you  can." 

"  That's  the  throuble,"  said  Felix.  "D'ye  see  what  it's 
done,  b'ys  ?  It's  corked  up  the  canal  jist  at  the  mouth  of 
the  bridge.  Niver  another  boat  '11  git  by  till  they  pull  out 
this  wan." 

"They're  pulling  the  mules  out  down  yonder,"  said 
Rube.  "Come  on,  boys.  We  must  see  something  more 
before  we  get  home." 

Whatever  else  they  saw  had  to  be  seen  quickly,  but 
they  were  on  hand  at  the  railway  station  when  the  regu- 
lar Academy  procession  marched  up  the  street. 

Of  course  they  had  to  give  an  account  of  themselves, 
but  Miss  Eccles  was  in  excellent  spirits  for  some  reason, 
and  she  actually  responded  to  their  first  somewhat  misty 
reply  with  "Well,  and  what  did  you  see  that  the  rest  of 
us  did  not?" 

"Is  it  what  did  we  see  ?"  exclaimed  Felix.  "Sure  an' 
we  saw  a  mule  commit  suicide  an'  pull  another  mule  into 
it  afther  him,  an'  there  was  a  shipwreck  on  top  o'  that, 
an'  the  canal's  turned  into  salt-wather." 

It  took  Rube  Hollenhouser  and  Bun  Gates  all  the  rest 
of  the  time  before  the  train  started  to  make  that  explana- 
tion clear  to  Miss  Eccles  and  old  Squire  Cudworth,  but  all 
three  of  the  boys  had  enough  to  talk  about  after  they  got 
home  that  evening. 


BITS  OF  ADVICE. 

BY  AUNT  MARJORIE  PRECEPT. 


ABOUT  TEASING. 

THE  trouble  about  teasing  is  that  it  makes  nobody  real- 
ly happy,  and  it  always  causes  somebody  to  feel  an- 
noyed. I  do  not  know  that  big  brothers  are  more  in  the 
habit  of  teasing  than  other  people  are,  but  it  often  happens 
that  my  many  little  nieces  run  to  me  and  say,  "Please, 
Aunt  Marjorie,  won't  you  speak  to  Willie?"  or,  "Won't 
you  ask  Hugh  to  let  my  pussy  alone  ?"  And  when  I  look 


At  \K''II  27,  1883. 


IIAUI'KU'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


327 


at  the  grieved  faces  and  quivering  lips,  although  I  am  a 
very  amiable  person  indeed,  I  assure  you  I  want  to  give 
Hugh  or  Will  a  shaking. 

It,  is  very  unmanly  lo  tea.se  little  sisters.  Once  in  a 
while,  too,  it  happens  that  the  little  sisters  grow  up  and 
write  books,  and  put  the  teasing  brothers  into  them,  and 
then  the  whole  \\orld  linds  out  what  naughty  hoys  they 
were.  That  is  \\hat  befell  the  brothers  of  Madame  Mi 
ehelet,  a  French  lady,  who  was  not  very  happy  as  a  child. 
Her  lii-otliers  worried  her  eat.  and  stole  her  darling  doll. 
and  hanged  it,  to  a  tree.  Is  it  not  terrible  to  think  that 
in  these  days  hundreds  and  thousands  of  children  know 
just  how  badly  those  ho\s  behaved  so  long  ago.' 

But  I  have  met  teasing  girls  in  my  time.  I  suppose  you 
will  think  it  strange  that  a  grown-up  lady  should  be  so 
silly  as  to  In-  afraid  of  caterpillars,  and  indeed  your  Aunt 
Marjorie  is  very  much  ashamed  to  confess  so  absurd  a  fear. 
Still,  it  is  a  fact,  and  can  you  imagine  anything  more  cruel 
in  a  little  girl,  knowing  this,  than  to  put  a  poor  innocent 
caterpillar  on  my  arm  one  day.'  I  am  sure1  you  would 
bave  felt  indignant  had  you  been  then-. 

Then,  besides  being  very  annoying,  it  is  quite  possible 
that  a  serious  injury  may  result  from  what  is  simply 
meant  as  innocent  teasing.  A  boy  or  girl  who  is  never 
timid  nor  nervous  may  play  some  trick  that  will  frighten 
n  more  delicate  and  sensitive  brother  or  sister  into  real 
illness.  It  seems  dreadful  to  think  of.  but  cases  have  been 
known  where  po-ir  little  children  have  been  frightened 
into  convulsions,  and  actually  to  death,  by  heartless  and 
ignorant  people. 

Teasing  is  wrong,  because  it  implies  a  desire  to  have  fun 
at  another's  expense.  Perhaps  to  have  pleasure  at  anoth- 
er's pain  Would  describe  it,  more  prcciseh  .  No  noble  boy 
or  girl  can  enjoy  a  pleasure  \\lueli  makes  a  companion 
uncomfortable.  For  this  reason  you  should  never  take 
part  in  a  practical  joke,  or  in  anything-  u  hn-n  is  not  fully 
up  to  the  standard  of  the  ({olden  Rule.  You  all  know 
what  that  is. 

THE  STORY   OP  THE   EASTEl;   HAKE. 


Jfvom  tlir 
BY   KMII.IK    MI>I;K. 

OLD  King  Frost  was  obliged  at  last  to  take'  his  depart- 
ure, for  each  da\  the  sun  grew  warmer  and  staid 
longer  in  the  sky.  So  he  quickly  packed  up  his  snow 
and  ice,  and  went  oil'  to  the  North  Pole. 

Scarcely  had  he  gone  when  Spring,  a  beautiful  boy  with 
bright  blue  c\es  and  rosy  cheeks,  came  tripping  through 
the  woods,  and  as  lie  passed  along  the  grass  sprang  up 
fresh  aud  green,  and  the  trees  burst  into  buds;  the  little 
squirrels  peeped  out,  and  seeing  him  passing,  leaped  to 
welcome  him. 

Sweet  Spring  rejoiced  in  all  this  beauty,  and  amused 
himself  as  he  went  gayly  through  the  land  by  touching 
with  his  wand  the  plants  and  bushes.  As  lie  did  so  great 
clusters  of  lovely  llowers  sprang  up  on  all  sides. 

But  when  all  the  llowers  he  loved  best  were  growing 
around  him,  when  the  little  birds  had  built  their  nests, 
and  the  humming  bees  were  busily  seeking  their  golden 
store.  Spring  seemed  sad  and  lonely;  shadows  crossed  his 
bright  face;  lie  sighed  as  he  said: 

"  Where  are  the  good  folks  who  have  always  come  to 
welcome  me,  and  to  enjoy  the  delights  I  have  prepared  ? 
Do  they  not  know  I  am  here  ?  can  it  be  they  have  not 
heard  my  herald,  the  cuckoo,  telling  of  my  arrival  for  days 
past?  Where  are  they  all  hidden  ?  Perhaps  they  are  still 
-sitting  by  the  fires  in  their  narrow  close  chambers,  where 
they  have  kept  warm  all  the  winter,  and  do  not  know  that 
King  Frost  has  gone  and  my  reign  is  begun.  I  must 
send  a  messenger  to  them  to  tell  them  I  have  come.  But 
whom  shall  I  send  ?  The  little  birds  are  all  busy  finishing 
their  nests  or  sitting  011  their  eggs,  the  butterflies  are  too 


frail  for  such  a  journey;  squirrels  are  not  to  be  depended 
on — none  of  these  will  do.      I  am  puzzled  whom  to  send." 

Just  then  a  little  hare  ran  under  a  hedge  near  by. 

"Stop,  hare!"  cried  Spring,  joyfully.  "I  want  some 
one  to  help  me.  and  I  think  you  will  he  the  very  one." 

The  little  hare  was  at  first  so  timid  that,  be  feared  to 
come,  Inn  remembering  all  the  sweet  food  and  pleasant, 
things  that  Spring  had  brought  him.  he  took  courage  and 
came  slowly  nearer.  Sitting  modestly  down,  he  asked 
Spring  what  he  wished  him  to  do. 

"Little  hare, "said  Spring,  "I  want  you  to  run  quiekly 
into  the  villages  and  towns,  and  tell  the  men  you  will 
meet,  with  Spring's  best  love,  that,  he  has  arrived,  and  that 
they  are  invited  to  come  into  the  fields  to  see  and  enjoy 
all  the  beautiful  things  he  has  brought  with  him." 

Hut  the  little  hare  did  not  move.  Instead,  lie  sadlv 
.scratched  one  of  his  long  cars  with  his  little  paw,  and. 
sighing,  said  to  Spring: 

"I 'ear  sir.  spare  me  this  task.  You  know  we  hares 
are  a  timid  race,  and  the  dogs  and  their  friends  the  men 
bave  always  been  our  enemies.  It  would  make  you 
weep  were  I  to  tell  you  the  sad  end  of  most  of  my  own 
family.  My  father  died  of  a  gunshot  wound,  and  my 
molher  uas  killed  b\  a  dog;  and  if  I  should  go  into  their 
dwellings,  how  could  I  hope  to  escape  .'  some  cruel  dog 
might  catch  me,  and  his  master  would  give  me  to  the 
cook  for  his  Sunday's  dinner." 

But  Spring  only  laughed,  and  replied  ; 

"Oh,  timid  lil  I  le  hare,  it  is  not  so  had  as  that.  Men  only 
eat  hare  in  autumn  and  winter;  so  they  will  not  harm 
you  now,  and  the  dogs,  who  are  truly  not  much  vour 
friends,  are  nou  all  chained  up.  and  what  isslill  more, 
l.i  their  great  displeasure,  have  muzzles  on  their  noses,  so 
that  they  could  not  bite  if  they  would.  Hut.  so  as  to  make 
you  quite  content,  I  have  an  idea.  You  shall  take  a  pie 
sent  with  you,  for  I  know  that  those  who  bring  presents 
are  always  kindly  received." 

So  Spring  went  round  to  the  little  birds  and  begged 
from  them  some  of  their  pretty  colored  eggs.  Some  who 
had  only  two  or  three  felt  they  could  not  spare  any,  but 
most  of  them  cheerfully  gave  at  least  one.  Then  Spring 
went  to  the  side  of  a  pond,  and  from  the  osiers  on  its  hanks 
SVOV6  a  basket,  so  that  the  eggs  could  be  carried  safely. 

"Take  these,  little  hare,  and  give  them  to  the  people 
you  meet,  telling  them  they  contain  gifts  from  me.  This 
pretty  blue  one  the  robin  gave  me  will  make  them  brave 
and  bold;  this  larger  speckled  one  from  the  sweet  thrush 
will  make  them  contented  in  a  lowly  home.  They  all  con- 
tain some  choice  gift. " 

The  little  hare  now  started  cheerfully  on  his  journey, 
but  when  he  came  in  sight  of  the  houses  and  churches  his 
courage  failed  him;  he  dared  not  go  to  the  big  men  and 
women,  but  crept  up  to  the  little  children,  timidly  offered 
his  gifts,  and  gave  his  message.  How  delighted  they  were 
with  such  treasures  and  such  news,  and  how  quickly  they 
ran  to  their  parents  to  beg  them  to  take  them  at  once  to 
see  if  it  was  all  true  that  the  little  hare  had  told  them  ! 

When  they  got  out  into  the  country  they  found  it  all 
more  beautiful  than  they  could  have  imagined.  Some 
played  on  the  soft  grass  in  the  meadows,  some  sought  the 
hidden  flowers  in  the  shady  nooks  Spring  had  told  them 
of,  and  made  them  into  lovely  wreaths,  and  the  parents 
were  delighted  to  see  their  children  so  happy. 

When  at  last  it  was  time  to  return,  flower-laden,  to 
their  homes,  they  all  wished  to  thank  the  little  hare,  but 
as  soon  as  he  had  delivered  his  message  and  gifts  he  had 
scampered  back  to  his  little  hole  in  the  hedge,  and  could 
not  be  found.      Then   they  all  agreed,  in  order  that  his 
I  kindness  should  ever  be  remembered,  that  every  year  at 
I  this  season  they  would  have  little  hares  made  of  sugar, 
and  pretty  colored  eggs,  in  memory  of  Spring's  little  mes- 
senger.     And  this  is  the  reason  that  all  the  little  children 
do  so  to  this  day. 


328 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  SLY  OLD  RAT.—  BY  PARMENAS  Mix. 


Tm:i;K  rats,  a  trio  sleek  and  keen, 

Walked  out  to  take  the  air. 
And  note  the  beauties  of  a  scene 

A  bright  full  moon  made  fair. 
When  suddenly  they  spied  a  prize — 

Some  hen  with  little  wit 
Had  laid  an  egg  of  goodly  size 

Where  rats  might  capture  it. 

Congratulations  were  exchanged 

Between  the  lucky  three 
As  they,  about  the  treasure  ranged. 

Scanned  it,  in  ecstasy. 
But  ah,  they  had  no  means  at  hand 

To  take  the  prize  away, 
And  earnestly  they  planned  and  planned 

Until  'twas  nearly  day. 

At  length  the  eldest  proved  most  wise: 

Said  he,  "Take  me  in  tow, 
Upon  my  back;  I'll  sei/e  the  prize 

With  all  four  paws — just  so — 


While  you  two,  grasping  tight  my  tail. 

With  your  united  power 
Can  drag  me  home  (you  can  not  fail) 

Within  the  next  half-hour." 

Arrived  at   last  with  progress  slow, 

The  two  who'd  tugged  so  well 
Turned  to  unload  their  friend,  when,  lo! 

They  found  an  empty  shell. 
With  auger  flashing  from  their  eyes, 

They  charged  their  crafty  friend 
With  sucking,  while  at  route,  the  prize 

By  puncturing  one  end. 

Then  said  the  culprit,  with  a  sigh, 

"Your  anger  wrings  my  breast: 
What's  done,  my  dear  companions,  I 

Did  only  for  the  best. 
Fearing  at   times  a  total  wreck, 

So  much  I  pitched  and  rolled. 
I  moved  the  cargo  from  the  deck. 

And  placed  it   in  the  hold." 


THE  ELEPHANT  ACT. 

NLY   think    of    such   a    great,  clumsy, 
awkward    creature    as    an.    ele- 
phant learning  how  to  dance, 
play  "seesaw"  on  a  plank, 
take  his  meals  at  a  table, 
and  do  many  other  things 
that  it  is  not  always  easy 
for   a    bright   boy   to 
master!    Yet  Mr.  Bar- 
inim  has  an  elephant 
among    the    animals 
belonging  to  his  Great 
Show   that    not   only 
performs   these  feats, 
but  many  others  quite  as  curious  and  wonderful. 

When  the  Great  Show  is  in  full  working  order,  and  an 
entertainment  is  being  given  at  any  place,  among  the  other 
performances  of  the  evening  the  audience  will  find  an- 
nounced on  the  show-bills,  "The  Great  Elephant  Act; 
or,  the  Clown  and  Elephant  as  Two  Mischievous  Boys." 
And  an  extraordinary  act  it  is ! 

First,  the  Clown  and  Elephant  enter,  and  salute  the  au- 
dience, after  which  they  march  around  the  ring,  indulging 


in  some  very  amusing  pranks  and  capers.  The  Clown 
then  lies  down,  and  the  Elephant  marches  over  him. 
After  he  has  done  this,  without  hurting  so  much  as  a  hair 
of  his  master's  head,  the  great  creature  rolls  himself,  or 
as  much  of  himself  as  he  can,  in  a  tub.  Finally  he  gets 
up,  turns  the  tub  upside  down,  and  dances  on  it,  while  the 
Clown  plays  the  oi-gan. 

Fancy  an  elephant  dancing!  But  he  docs  it.  and  on 
the  bottom  of  a  tub  which  is  hardly  large  enough  to  hold 
his  four  great  feet  at  once.  It  is  no  wonder  that  he  soon 
tires  of  such  fun.  and  wants  to  try  something  else.  He 
thinks  he  will  be  a  musician,  and  so  he  pushes  his  master 
from  the  instrument,  and  grinds  out  the  music  for  him- 
self, while  the  Clown  dances.  This  he  tires  of  too.  and  his 
next  prank  is  to  play  "seesaw."  He  gets  on  one  end  of 
the  plank,  while  his  master  mounts  the  other.  Of  course 
his  great  weight  brings  his  end  to  the  ground,  and  the 
poor  Clown  is  tossed  up  aloft,  and  comes  down  on  his  head. 

After  all  this,  such  an  accomplished  Elephant  mav  be 
supposed  to  want  his  supper.  A  table  is  brought  in,  and  he 
begins  his  meal,  with  his  master  sitting  opposite.  Alas! 
he  is  very  greedy.  He  eats  up  all  the  food,  but  otherwise 
he  behaves  very  well;  he  takes  his  wine  from  a  bottle  in- 
stead of  a  glass,  but  he  uses  his  napkin  in  a  very  careful 
and  polite  way. 


MARCH   U7,  1883. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


330 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


During  the  meal  some  one  in  the  audience  usually 
throws  a  bouquet.  The  Clown  and  Elephant  both  bow 
in  acknowledgment;  but  while  his  master  is  busy  tak- 
ing away  the  remnants  of  the  meal  the  Elephant  sits 
carelessly  down  on  the  poor  flowers.  The  Clown  search- 
es for  them,  and  is  quite  in  despair  at  their  ruined  con- 
dition. 

Finally  the  Elephant  and  his  master  lie  down  for  a  nap ; 
but  the  Elephant,  instead  of  being  quiet,  roars  so  loudly 
that  the  Clown  reproves  him  severely  for  "snoring." 
After  a  little  while  they  seem  to  find  sleep  impossible,  and 
they  both  march  off  the  scene.  As  they  depart,  a  shock- 
ing accident  happens.  The  Clown,  happening  to  seize  the 
Elephant's  tail,  it  comes  off  in  his  hand,  and  the  poor 
animal  disappears  tailless  behind  the  curtain. 


THE    COURT    MUSICIAN; 

OR,     THK     LORD      MAYOR'S      RIDDLE. 

&  SJlaji.     Eu  SCijtcc  Slcts. 

BY    EI^IOT    M.oCOE.MICIv. 


CHARACTERS. 


I ,  i-micfili A  fiddler. 


An/imiii  .Vni-iironi...  • 


t  An  organ- 


The  Lord  Mayor. 
First  Alderman. 


l    grinder. 


Second  Alderman. 
!/,</,/.,  n.  afterward  Paul. 

:     '- T^eo's  sisters. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE. — A  poorly  famished  room.  At.  the  right  a  lounge,  on 
ir/iick  LUISA  lien  asleep.  TESSA  sits  by  htr  side,  darning  a 
stiii-king.  She  adritnces  to  front  of  stage  and  simjx. 

Solo:  TESSA. 

Air:  ".For  Riches  and  Rank." 

Luisa  has  just  now  gone  to  sleep — 

At  last  I  shall  have  some  rest; 
From  morn  till  night  she's  done  nothing  but  weep, 

And  her  temper's  been  none  of  the  best; 
And  when  she  wakes  she  will  weep  again. 
Hut  what,  is  her  grief,  or  what  her  pain, 
Why  she  is  moaning, 
Crying,  groaning, 
I've  asked  her  time  after  time  in  vain. 

Whenever  I'm  not  kept  here  at  home 

I  sing  in  the  streets  all  day; 
The  people  to  hear  me  gladly  come. 

Or  else  to  hear  Taddeo  play. 
For  Taddeo  goes  wherever  I  go — 
He  carries  along  his  fiddle  and  bow ; 
And  while  I'm  winning 
Pennies  by  singing. 
He  plays  the  melody  obligate. 

Knt<:r  TADDEO  (L.),  u  fiddle  in  hix  hand. 

TESSA  (Imlil in<t  up  her  hand  warningly).  Don't  make  a  noise. 
Tad;  Luisa  bus  just  fallen  asleep;  she  has  been  crying  all  day. 

TADDEO  (runt-inn  near,  nm/  looking  down  into  LUISA'S  face). 
Have  you  found  out  what  she  cries  for? 

TESSA.  She  will  not  tell.  Whenever  I  ask  her  she  cries  the 
harder.  Have  you  made  much  money  to-day,  Taddeo? 

TADDEO  (gloomily).  I  made  eighty  cents,  but  Antonio  Maca- 
roni stole  it. 

TKSSA  (anxiously).  Ah.  Taddeo!  he  will  steal  your  fiddle  some 
day.  Did  you  make  the  money  by  playing? 

TADDEO  '(turning  away).  Yes. 

TESSA  (following  him).  Playing  your  fiddle? 

TADDEO.  No ;  playing  marbles. 

TKSSA  (decidedly).  Then  you  deserved  to  lose  it.  But  have 
you  nothing  left? 

TADDEO  (emptying  his  pocki  tx  «f  nmrlih-x,  bits  of  string,  a  knife, 
<i  jew's-harp,  and  various  other  articles).  No;  nothing  at  all. 

Ti:ss\.  Then  we  shall  have  no  dinner  to-morrow.  Indeed, 
there  is  nothing  for  supper  to-night.  (LriSA  wakes  tip  and  lief/ins 
J"  '•'•//.)  See!  Luisa  is  awake.  We  must  amuse  her.  Take 
your  fiddle,  Taddeo;  and  1  will  sing  another  verse  <>f  my  song. 
(.TADDEO  -jilai/x  »//  accompaniment,  •//•/< //»•  I,ns\  «/«.) 


Solo:  TESSA  (air  as  before). 
When  summer  appears  we  frequent,  the  boats 

That  ply  to  and  from  the  sea  shore; 
I  warble  my  songs,  and  Tad  plays  his  notes. 

Till  the  p'assengers  clamor  "No  more!" 
But  we  know  that  so  long  as  they're  out  to  sea 
They  can't  get  away  from  Tad  and  me; 
'So  whatever  they're  saying, 
We  keep  on  playing 
Till  they  pay  us  to  stop  and  let  them  be. 

[Wliilt  TESSA  is  zinging  the  LORD  MAYOR  and  ALDKKMKN. 
currying  lighten.  Jantenin,  enter  stealthily  at  lift.  Thiy  sur- 
vey the  wi  in  iinjii  rci'ifi  <!.  a  ml  li'i'il  a  I'  <l"  it'  /innilx  in  irmn/i  r. 
.\t  tin'  I'/nxi-  iif  tin  fain:/  //Hi/  COnn  J'ni-irtird.  TKSSA  mid 
TADDKO  ntnat  in  surprise.  LUISA  ci'iitimn*  tn  weep.  \ 

LORD  MAYOR  (turning  to  children).  Pray  tell  me  what  all  this 
is  about.  Why  should  one  person  be  liddliiiir.  another  singing, 
and  another  crying?  In  all  my  experience  I  think  I  never  saw  MI 
extraordinary  a  sight.  Did  you?  (Turning  to  tin  ALDEHMEX.) 

FIRST  ALDERMAN.      \  We  neve,  (i;j 

SECOND  ALDERMAN,  f  " 

LORD  MAYOR.  And  probably  you  never  will. 

FIRST  ALDERMAN.      (  w  m 

SECOND  ALDERMAN,  f  " 

\Tlie  children  shrink  back.  LUISA  has  stu/iju-il.  i-ryini/,  and  Innks 
in  astonishment  toward  thi  intruders.} 

LORD  MAYOR.  Come,  do  not  be  afraid.     We  will  not  hurt  you. 

TESSA  (timidly).  We  were  trying  to  amuse  Luisa,  sir. 

LORD  MAYOR.  Docs  Luisa  always  cry  when  she  is  amused'.' 

TESSA  (taking  LUISA'S  hand).  She  cries  all  the  time.  sir.  She 
has  cried  ever  since  our  little  brother  Paul  was  lost.  And  I  am 
afraid  we  don't  know  how  to  amuse  her.  Do  you  think  a  doll 
would  amuse  her,  sir? 

LORD  MAYOR.  I  think  it  would.     (He  look*  at  the  ALDEKMI  A 

ALDERMEN  (in  concert).  We  think  it  would. 

TESSA.  Well,  you  see,  we  could  not  get  her  one,  at  any  rate. 
Taddeo  had  all  his  money  stolen  to-day.  ( The  LOUD  MAYOR  start* 
back  in  horror,  and  the  ALDERMEN  follow  his  example.) 

LORD  MAYOR  ) 

FIRST  ALDERMAN.      '-What?    Stolen!    Where  are  the  police? 

SECOND  ALDERMAN.  ) 

TESSA.  Oh,  they're  never  around  when  one  wants  them.  It 
was  Antonio  Macaroni  stole  it.  (The  LORD  MAYOR  imtix  tin  mime 
in  his  memorandum-book.)  And  we  haven't  got  anything  for 
supper.  (LriSA  hi/in.*  /"  cry.)  Oh  dear!  there  she  goes  again. 

LORD  MAYOR.  How  very  unfortunate!  (Hi  ln/,i:<  n  Im  m/j'nl  nf 
silver  out  of  hin  pocket.)  I  would  give  you  twenty  live  cents;  but, 
you  see,  there  is  a  law  against  giving  charity  except  through  the 
proper  officers.  (lie  reflects  for  a  moment.')  Suppose  I  give  you 
an  office  instead? 

TADDEO  (joyfully).  Then  we  wouldn't  have  to  do  any  work! 

LORD  MAYOR,  Quite  right.     But  you  are  Italians. 

TESSA  (eagerly).  Yes,  sir;  but  we  have  been  six  weeks  in  this 
country. 

LORD  MAYOR.  Oh,  that  will  do.  A  month  is  limn  enough. 
(To  t/ie  ALDERMEN.)  Is  any  office  vacant? 

FIRST  ALDERMAN.  The  office  of  Musician  to  the  Court,  your 
honor. 

SECOND  ALDERMAN.  But  it  can  not  be  filled  without  an  exam- 
ination. 

LORD  MAYOR.  Must  the  candidates  be  examined  in  music  r 

FIRST  ALDERMAN.  Oh  no,  your  honor.  If  they  understand 
algebra,  that  will  do. 

TESSA  (mournfully).  But  we  don't  understand  algebra. 

SECOND  ALDERMAN.   Does  she  understand  puzzles? 

TESSA  (inquiringly).  Puzzles? 

LORD  MAYOR.  Rebuses,  cross  words,  magic  squares,  riddles, 
enigmas,  charades,  anagrams,  double  acrostics. 

TESSA  (diin/itfiilli/).  We  have  done  them  in  HAKPKU'S  YOVNO 
PEOPLE.  (The  LORD  MAYOR  and  ALDERMEN  m>d  tin  ir  /« <»/.*.  i 

LORD  MAYOR.  All  right,  then.  The  Examination  will  be  a  rid 
die.  Bear  your  hunger  until  to-morrow,  and  all  will  be  well. 

FIRST  ALDERMAN."     )  v 

SECOND  ALDERMAN,  f Yes'  a11  W1"  b('  W1»- 

[The  sound  of  boys  singing  is  heanl  mitxidi.  \ 

Solo  and  Chorus:  NEWSBOYS  (invisible). 
Air:  "  llcin-1'.forth,  Streplwn, cast  airay.'1 

FIRST  NEWSBOY. 
We  are  Arabs  of  the  street, 
And  our  patrons  thus  entreat: 
Buy  the  Herald,  Sun,  or  Times — 
Leave  us  only  your  half-dimes. 

ALL.     Leave  us  only  your  half-dimes, 
Out  of  your  large  generosity. 
Here's  the  very  last  atrocity 
In  the  Herald,  Sun,  or  Tiunx. 


MARCH  27,  1883. 


IIAKPKirs   YOFXG  PEOPLE. 


331 


I. oi:t>  MAYOR.   What  was  that,  pray? 

Ti  88A.   oli.  those  arc  the-  New-boys.     They  an-  ,,11  their  way 

In  tile    "  Home." 

l.iiiin  M  \\iii:  (approvingly),  oh  yes;  a  very  useful  institution. 

I  must  rail  there  some  niyht.     I  ni:ikc  it  my  business  to  call  oil 
all  my  people.      Fur.  \..ii  know — 

'I'm:  [.mill  M  \YIIK. 
Air  fa  It'firwl." 

-  yood  Al  l!:i-i  hiil.  ii  r 1  the  (Jreat. 

In  I'.ajdad  li\ed  anil  reiyned. 
Mi-  u -eil  In  uamler  forth  by  niyht. 
Alhl      -i-  In-  hail  a   prrt'ri  I   riyht — 

To  In    a  | r  man  leiyned. 

All  kin;;-  anil  caliphs  iliil  the  same 
When  i: I  Al  Ha-rhiil  won  hi-  fame. 

Anil  nn\v.  tliouyh  many  year-  have  pa--ril 

Since  that  illu-triou-  lime. 
1  In  In  make  iny-df  appear. 
By  riyLjiny  up.  a-  you  see  here. 

A  kin  -  -•)  Porte  Sublimi 

All  kiny-  ami  caliph-  looked  the  -ame 
\Vlicn  C 1    \l   I!  '-i  Iliil  won  111-  faun- 
Am!.  Illll-  di-y'li-eil.  We  yo  alllllll 

Tin-  ln\i  n  upon  tin-  -l\ , 

l-'ruiii  Tompkins  S,|iiarc  In  llowliny  (Jri-i-n 
\\  i    w  .iiili-r.  liil'ly  anil  -i  n 

The  Alili-rmcn  ainl  I 
l-'.n-  kiny-  -'inl  caliph-  iliil  the  -ame 
Wlicn  yood  Al  Ka-i  hiil  won  hi-  I'ann 

\\  r  prow  I  Iliroiiyh  ilark  ami  ilirly  hall-. 
\\  lii-rc  nnl  a  single  ray. 

1-Acepl    the   ya  -   lamp   III    III.       I  reel. 

Liyhl     up  the  ylootu.  or  -how  -  our  I.  el 
'I'll    uninviting  w  .i\ 

I'.ui  kiic,'-  ami  caliph-  ili.I  the  -ami- 
When  good  Al  Iia-i  hiil  w,.n  hi-  lam.  , 

Ami  \\  hen  We  reach  an  npeu  door 

(A    we  ha\ e  done  to  >n-iit  . 

llehiiiil  Ihe  jamli  w  e  -all  h   h'nlc. 
Ami.  pi -i  i  hi",  c.-iiiiiuu-ly  in-iilc. 

&      iiianv   a  si  run  ye  siylil 
Ah'   kiny-  anil  caliphs  iliil  the  -aim 
When  ".mill  Al  Ka-i  hiil  won  hi-  fame 
Cnrtnin  fiillx  "i,   ,\,'t  I 


A.  (turning  aside).   Very  well.     You  ma  \  i;.  i  now. 

|  /•'..'.  nut  NEWSBOYS  (L.),  zinging.] 
Solo  and  ciioru-    Ni  \\-I-.OYS  (air  aa  before). 


ACT    II 
Si  INK.-   -Tin    I  'iti/  11.  il!  I'.ii'l. 

Kilt,  I1  :•     '      \  I    W  -111  IV-,  fi-nin    0/,/nixlt,'   Xli/ix   if  //(,     «/,/./,  .        .  |  //  ,-,;/   nut 

In:/,  Hi,  r.  • 

.\i\\snii\-.    l-'.\lra'      l[,i;ilil.'    Ti,:,.-'      T.  <  rilile  aeriilriit  ! 


Knti'i-  (  L.  )  Ll  ISA.  in  xlinlil,;/  I'oxtnin,-.      Tin  /mi/.*  ,'ff,  r  I,,  r  //,  irx/m/i,  /-.v. 

\A  ISA  (loftily).  Fray  do  n..l  make  -n  much  noise.  Is  there  any 
thingin  the  papers  about  the  Examination?  i  '/'//,  /,,,,/x  /,„,/.  atont 
i  n  mill,  i-iiinl  Inxitiit,  .)  Why  iloii'l  you  un-wer?  How  ,-tupid! 

Xi.  \vsuuvs  (//(  I'lnn'i  ii).    What  examination? 

LnsA.  Why.  Ihe  Examination  at  the  City  Hall  for  a  musician. 
Haven't  you  heard  :ihoul  il? 

NEWSBOYS  (in  ,;,„,;  rf).    \\'e  have  not. 

Lnsv    Well,  you'd  lielter  look  in   the  papers  and   see.      (They 

<iil  HIM  n  tin  ir  /ni/ii  ri<  ill  Hi.  •  muni  tin"  and  look  eagerly  down  tin  cm 

limns.       lliirinij  fan  in/    it.  tliil/   tl/rnxt    tin  if   /i,i/ni:t   ,ii,  /i/'/l/   tinrii.nl 
Iti  ISA  ///  iln  nili-xlinir.)     Have  you  .not  il? 
NKWSHOYS  (nx  l,,i',ir,  |.    \\'e  ha\e 
Very  we'll.     Read  it,  then. 

OYS  (reading  in  i->nn  ;rt).  "There  will  he  an  Kxamiimtion 
ai  the  otliee  of  the  Lord  Mayor  this  afternoon  at  three  o'clock,  for 
the  purpose  of  select  inj;  a  Chief  Musician  to  the  Court.  The,  office 
will  be  jjiven  to  the  one  who  can  answer  the  following  riddle: 

'  '  A  fiddler  played,  and  a  maiden  saiisr, 

While  one  in  grief  sat  woepinsr  — 

Ah!  who  shall  tell  what  hidden  pang 

That  heart  held  in  its  keeping?'  " 

LIHSA.  Will  some  om-  cut  it  out?  (Kin'li  of  tin'  Iwya  immediately 
Iiiuulx  LfisA  a  impir.  .s'A,  in',;  /it*  tin  in  all,  and  bows  lier  thanks.) 
Ah!  that  will  do.  Thank  you.  Shall  you  all  try  for  the  prize? 
I  Tli,  ij  /'in/,'  nt  mi,-  nautili  r.) 

NEWSBOYS  (//,  ,•„//,-,  ,•/).  We  will. 

LTISA.    Well.  I  hope  you  may  sret  it. 

NEWSBOYS  (in  eonct  r/l    We  will  do  our  IH--I 


For  Ihe  ])fi/.e  we  mean  to  trv. 
Though  \\e  know  not  how  or  wby 
Kiddle-  -hmdil  lie  made  the  tesl 

Iii  determining  which  is  IK--I 

i  innirs. 
In  deterniinin.sr  which  i-  In  -i 

Who  sings  \\  itli  Ihe  mo-i  faeilily, 

Pla\s  willi  li\rlie-t  ability  — 
Hiddle-  never  an-  an\   teal 

l.i  ISA.  At  la-!  I  am  alone.  I  thouuht  1  HIM  r  should  yet  away 
from  Tes-a.  Let  mi-  read  hi-  letter:  "Dear  l.iiisa.—  .Meet  me  in 
i  i:-  Hall  I'ark.  —  Your-.  Antonio."  What  can  he  want?  All! 
he  comes!  (  Tnrnx  mrni/.  ,n,,l  j,r,  I,  mix  n"t  t,,  notlCt  liix  I'll,  nint/.) 

Enter  M  \i  \KI.M  (l!.i.      II,   carries  •/  l,,n,il  ,inj,n,  nn  /it*  fan-l,-.  iiinl 
liinlx  ii  muni,,  i/  Iii  ii  \triny. 

\1  \.   \I:OM.    Luisa! 

Li  i-\  (tin-nil,;/  niiinil).  All!  Antonio'  (.s'/»-  x,ix  tin'  nninl.;  i/.  ) 
\\  hal  a  l.eanlifnl  monkey'  Is  he  a  new  one? 

MM   MaiM     xti;  ,/,!,,,/  th,    n,,,i,!:,ifx  Inn,/,  irhil,    tin'   nniinn!   ,,,,,n 

•mil  ,:n  I/,,  jt,,,,r     \,.      He  is  a  young  gorilla.    (Proudly.) 

1  am  the  only  or^an  iirinder  in  New  York  who  has  a  gorilla. 

l.ils\  You  are  indeed  fortunate.  liul  w  hal  did  you  want, 
Anloi 

^l  M  \KOM.  oh.  I  wanted  to  show  you  my  yorilla.  But  before 
I  fin-yet  it.  can't  you  yel  me  Taddeo's  fiddle  some  day'.' 

l.i  i-\  \x/i,i/.ini/  In  r  head).  I  don't  helicve  I  can.  'lie  carries  it 
will]  him  all  Ihe  lime,  and  at  niyht  he  sleep-  wilh  il.  It's  a  very 
\alnalile  lid.  lie.  \  ..n  know 

MM  IRON]  (contemptuously)  oh.  it's  an  old  thiny.  It  isn't 
worlh  twenty  live  cents.  I  tell  you  what  I'll  do—  III  give  you 
onothi  i  one.  which  ymi  can  put  in  it-  place  at  niyht,  and  Tad'deo 
will  ni'\crkiiou  the  difference. 

l.i  i-\  (i.lin-tniitlii).    I  don't  think  I  ouyhl  to. 

N|  M  \KO\I  Ah.  l.ui-a.  you  don  I  know  how  much  I  think  of 
you'  .lu-l  think  ..I  it  I  am  yoiny  (n  give  Taddeo  a  line  new 
liddle  for  an  old  one'  I-n't  that  a  )  ......  I  of  my  devotion?  See.  I 

will  yivc  \ou  this  riny  he-idi  -    (  //,  liolds  out  a  finger-ring,  which 
Li  is\  taket  and  examines  eagerly.) 

Ali'   \Mll\ou?     Then  1  will  do  it.      You  ma\   hriny  (he 
tiddle  to  tin-  Lviminaiion  lliis  afternoon. 
M  M   \KOM     \\  h.-.l  cxaiiiinalioir' 
LnsA.    Why.  in  llie  Mayor's  Olh'ce.     Il  is  for  I  he  place  of  Chief 

Mu-ieian.    Save  you  not  read  it?   (sl«Tnin<l!<liiin  n  /m/i,  /-,  n-iiii-ii  !,,• 
::i,  fii/.  irlii'i,  l.i  ISA  Imliix  tin  ijni'iihi.    IJie  animal  meanwhile 

xtnnilx  nil   it*  liinil  IKJX  ninl  xlimrx  xii/nx  nf  /i/ni/fn/in  n.i.       Ll'lsA  i/l'n/a 
d  anil  1'itn  ntx  \     (  III.  Antonio1    I  am  afraid  ! 

MM  \KIINI  (''.,,,  I,  ,n/i/n,inxly).   (Jirl-  are  always  afraid.      (II,    n 
tnrnxt/ii  paper  and  takes  back  tfu   ninii/,ry.)     You  don't  expecl  me 
In  iruess  any  such  -illy  riddle  a-  thai? 

l.i  i-\  (toxxini/  In  r  In,  nl).  You  wouldn't  think  il  was  silly  if  you 
knew  the  aii-wcr. 

M  M  \KIIM.    Do  you  know  it? 

l.i  l-\  (nii/xt,  i'iiinx/i/1    1'erliap-! 

MM  \KOM  (-•„,/.(,,,,//,/;.  Ah!  tell  me.  I.uisa.  See,  if  you  will 
tell  me  I  will  make  Jocko  ,yo  through  his  tricks.  (Hi  motions  I" 

thl'  monkey,  irlin  lui/inx  tn  tin  in;   flnilixilji  iilinnt  tin    /I'm/-.) 

LUISA  (iiiorini/  nir,ii/\   Ah!     No;  he  is  too  liiy. 

MACAKOM    Well,  then,  tell  me  because  I  ask  you. 

L-mnA.    I  will  tell  you  —  to-morrow. 

MACAHOM  (<v///////W;////r////).  But  thai  will  he  loo  late  for  the 
Examination.  If  you  will  tell  me  at  once,  Luisa,  I  will  let  you 
have  the  riny  now. 

Li  ISA  (turning  tin-  n'ni/  on  h<  >•  finger).  Oh!  will  you?  But  I 
am  afraid  Tessa  will  be  auyry. 

MACARONI.   Do  not  mind  Tessa.     Think  of  the  ring. 

LUISA  (xtiii  admiring  tin  ring).  Well,  I  suppose  I  must.  (Sin  ix 
nlmiit  tn  x/i,ii/.',  ir/n  ii  TESSA  and  TADDEO  ciitfi-  linrriulli/  front  R. 
TADDECI  seizes  MACARONI  by  the  collar,  while  TESSA  taken  LUISA'S 
linnil.  Ll'ISA  hnrxtx  intu  ti-ars.) 

TADDEO.  Thief!     Where  is  the  money  you  stole  from  me  ? 

MACARONI  (<.n/////////.r/  ///«  pvrsc).  I  haven't  it  with  me  now. 
But  I  will  give,  it  back  to  you.  It  was  only  in  joke,  you  know. 

TADDEO  (tnl.'iinj  tin-  nnni/.i  ;/':<  ,-<n'il).  Very  well,  I  will  keep  the 
monkey  as  security.  (MACARONI  /-exists,  but  the  monk,  //  birtikx 
mrni/  ffnin  him  inn/  jimi/ix  n/i  on  TADDEO  with  signs  of  delight.) 
You  see  the  monkey  recognizes  me. 

MACARONI.  Yes,  as  a  relation. 

TABVEO  (advancing  threateningly).  Go!  get  that  money  ! 

\_Krit  MACARONI,  R] 

TESSA.  Wliat  is  the  matter,  Luisa  dear  ?  What  LM  it  that  dis- 
tresses you  ? 

LUISA  (xtihln'inj  ninl  xlmking  JUT  head).   Oh!   I  can't  tell. 


332 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Enter  MACARONI,  xnpfreeircd,  <it  L..  mid  NEWSBOYS  «t  R.,  nlun 

il  n pi  I'd  iful. 

TESSA.  But,  Luisa,  if  you  will  only  tell  us.  we  ran  guess  llio 
riddle.  We  know  it  all  but  the  "hidden  pang,"  and  you  ;iiv  the 
only  one  who  can  tell  what  that  is.  (LuiSA  eiiiitiiunx  to  shn/.-i  In  r 
I,,, til  ami  ireep.  TESSA  looks  at  TADDEO.)  We  must  amuse  her, 
Tad!  lee. 

Song  :  TESSA  and  Chorus. 

Air:   "  With  Sti'<']>li<-nt  fur  your  Foe,  nn  iloi/bf.'' 

We've  nearly  found  the  riddle  out, 
For  I'm  the  one  who  sings,  no  doubt, 
\\  hile  Tacldeo  play-. 
And  people  praise 
His  flddle  and  his  bow. 

Hut  why  Luisa  cries  ;ill  day. 
What  trouble  wears  her  life  away. 


And  whence  the  grief 
Beyond  relief. 
AVe  do  not  surely  know. 

[During  tJ/e  singing  MACARONI  and  tin   NEWSBOYS  rome  for- 
irn  nl .     All  join  in  chorus.] 

CHOKUS.  But  why  Luisa  cries  all  day, 
What  trouble  wears,  etc. 
Curtain  falls  on  Act  II. 


•I.risA    IS    AWAKE:    WE    MUST    AMUSE    HER.' 


ACT   III. 

SCENE. — The  Lord  Mayor's  Roam  in  the  City  Unit.  At  tin  luck 
of  tlie  stage,  nn  ii  raised  platform,  is  stated  tin  LOKD  MAYOR,  irith 
an  ALDEKMAN  on  each  side.  At  the  right  nn'  tin  XEWSUOYS. 
and  at  the.  left  TADDEO,  TESSA,  LTUSA,  and  tin  /nan/.;//  .•  and  nt 
n  short  distance  from  these  stands  MACARONI. 

LOKD  MAYOR.  Are  you  all  ready? 

NEWSBOYS.  1 

TADDEO. 

TI-SSA.          ,  We  are. 

LUISA. 

MACARONI.  ) 

LOUD  MAYOR.  The  purpose  of  this  examina- 
tion is  to  select  a  person  to  till  the  ntlice  of  Mu- 
sician to  the  Court.  The  candidates  niiiM  be 
able  to  solve  a  double-barrelled  acrostic,  and  to 
tfell  a  jew's-harp  from  a  snare-drum  at  sight. 
Can  you  all  do  this? 

TADDEO. 

NEWSBOYS. 

TESSA.  !  We  can. 

LCISA. 

MACARONI. 

LORD  MAYOR.  Then  let  us  proceed.  You 
must  write  the  answer  on  the  slips  of  paper. 
The  boy  who  gets  it  first  may  ruise  his  hand. 
(TESSA  raises  her  hand.)  Well  7 

TESSA.  Suppose  it's  a  girl,  sir? 

LOKD  MAYOR.  She  may  raise  her  hand  loo. 
(They  write  rapidly  for  a  nn>nn  nt,  trhi  n  MACA- 
RONI'S hand  is  raised.)  Well  ? 

M  tc  \RONI.  I  think  I  have  it,  your  honor. 

LORD  MAYOR.  Bring  it  here.  (.MAC  AKOM  tak/s 
the  paper  to  the  LORD  MAYOR,  trhii  hand*  it.  un- 
opened, to  one  of  the  ALDERMEN.  TESSA'S  /nun/ 
is  raised.)  Well,  is  yours  done  to<  >  ? 

TESSA.  Please,  sir,  I  am  writing  for  Taddeo. 
He  can  not  write. 

LORD  MAYOR  (shaking  his  In, id).  Then  that 
counts  him  out.  Are  there  any  others?  (Hi 
looks  inquiringly  at  the,  NEWSBOYS,  <rh<>  an  co$ 
suiting  together.) 

NEWSBOYS  (in  concert).  Here  is  ours,  your 
honor.  (They  all  rise  at  once  nml  take  it  up  tn 
him.) 

LOUD  MAYOR.  Now  have  we  got  them  all '.' 
(Them  is  no  reply.)  Read  the  first  one,  Mr.  Al- 
derman. 

FIRST  ALDERMAN  (opens  MACARONI'S  paper 
a  ltd  reads) : 

"  A  tiddler — his  name  it  was  Tad — 
Played  so  exceedingly  bad, 
That  liis  -i>ier  Luisa 
Thought  he  did  it  to  tease  her. 
And  became  uncontrollably  sad." 

LORD  MAYOR  (slinking  lii*  head).  That  does  not 
tell  why  a  maiden  sang.  And,  besides,  the  boy 
is  not  a  bad  player.  I  do  not  believe  that  woidd 
make  his  sister  cry.  Read  the  second  answer. 
Mr.  Alderman. 

A  i. MERMAN  (reading  TESSA'S  papi  r): 

•'  Our  little  sister  wept  the  live-long  da\ . 

While,  Tessa  sang  and  Taddeo  played  his 

Sddle; 

Though  why  she  wept  I'm  sure  I  can  not  sa\ . 
And  so   suppose  I  have   not   guessed  the 
riddle." 

LORD  MAYOR.  Very  good.  But  that  does  not 
tell  us  what  the  Jiang  was.  Let  us  have  the 
next  one. 

ALDERMAN  (reading  the  NEWSBOYS'  //H/H  / ): 

"  While  Taddeo  played  and  Tessa  sang 

Luisa  sat  a-weeping — 
We  can  not  tell  wlial  was  I  be  pang 
Her  heart  held  in  its  keeping." 


MAIJCII   :>7,  1883. 


IIAHPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


333 


,ill 


LORD      MAYOR 

[  lear   me!    n  .....     (if  tin-Ill    have 

cruessed  it.  Isn't  then-  any- 
limlv  here  who  can  Icil  us  w  hat 
tin-  hidden  pang-  was?  \Vliy 
did  I.ui-a  cry'.'  Th.-it  is  \vh:it 
we  want  td  know.  (Tin  in-11,1; 

,i/    Hit       .        •  at   exciti  m 

ir/tilt  I.i  ISA,  nuking  fnm-nrii 
/•I  tin  I.  OKI>  M  \MIK  s  seat, 

lirml^  iiit,  >  xi  I/IK  I 

LI-ISA.  Oh!  I  will  tell.  I 
didn't  dare  to  tell  tii-fon  —  I 
was  afraid  Te-~a  would  -.(-did 
—  lint  1  can'1  keep  it  any 

loniref  If-       hreaUM-       I       lost 

my  little  In-other  Paul.  Tessa 
thought  In-  ran  olf  himself. 
Hut  he  didn't.  1  losl  him  ; 
ami  I'M-  fell  so  dreadfully 
alimit  it  that  it  made  me  cry 
all  the  time,  (Ax  I.i  i-  \  /'/•" 
i;n/xt/n  monkey'  scostunu  ilfi/i* 

nil'    ,mil    i/ixi-'n.iix    'I     littli 

/'/•     nuiln  <    fnnr.inl,    irliili 

rite  a  i'  in  excitt  mi  n/.  > 
P\i  i.  (taking  I.i  ISA'S  ha 

Ah.  dear  siller!  I  am  I'anl  ' 
I  was  stolen  hy  a  \\  icUed  m 
ciaii.  «  ho  changed  me  into  a 
gorilla,  and  f'orliade  my  regain 
in;r  my  natunil  -ha|ic  until  you 
should  lell  how  I  uas  lo-t. 
Now  it  i-  all  liirht  :  and  you 
need  not  cry  any  m 

l.dKD  MAYOR.  Ah  '  This  is 
very  satisfai  h  >r\  The  riddle 
lii  ,  liei-n  guessed,  and  the  little 
liny  ha-  lieen  released  from  his 

uncomfortable  disguise.  Hu  i" 

whom  shall  wi-  -_:i\  e  llic  ntliccV 
I  //.  /.«//.-.-(  nl  Hi,  A  I.  m.  MM  xv 

illli/  tin  II  ill  tin1  nnnliinit,  i.  I 
All,        ((   CO  :>!          M   XI     Xl;nM 

(live  il  iii  I'anl! 

I.OKII  M  Avon.  Very  x\elh 
since  you  insist  upon  il  I  will 
irixe  il  In  I'anl.  lim  \\  ho  is 
tlie  one  I  pointing  to  M  M  \un 
M)  who  (lid  not  .-peak  V 

NEWSBOYS  I   .....  /•/!.  An 

lonio  Macaroni. 

Limn  Al  \Yiiit.  Macaroni  '.' 
The  name  is  familiar  (consults 
/i  ix  in,  morandum-book).  Ah  ' 
Macaroni,  come  up  here,  i  M  \ 
(  \  in  IM  comes  foiieard  i  You 
an-  charged  with  .slealini; 
eighty  cents  I'roni  Taddeo  Ver- 
miceili.  What  have  you  .ii'ot 
to  say  for  yourself  . 

MACAIKINI  (  //./•(•.(  nx/i/).  It 
was  only  ill  joke,  your  honor, 
and  1  have  Ltivrii  him  security. 

I.oKii  M  \MII;.    How  is  that.  Taddeo1.'     Have  you  L'ol  scciirily'.' 

TA]>DKO  (i/iin/itfii/li/).  I  had.  your  honor:  Inn  the  security  has 
U'oii"  away. 

MA(  AHUM.    I  i;a\i'  liim  tlic  gorilla  fur  security. 

LOUD  MAYOK.  Ah!  yon  did'.'  \Vell.  the  Court  decides  that 
there  is  no  gorilla,  so  yon  niilsi  pay  him  the  eighty  cents. 

^IACAISOXI  (complainingly).  Tlu-u  I  want  niv  gorilla  hack. 

LOUD  MAYOK.  J!nt  there  isn't  anv  unrilla. 

TADDKD.  Never  mind,  your  honor.  It's  worth  a  good  deal 
more  than  eighty  cents  to  u'cl  Paul  back,  lie  can  keep  the  money; 
only  I  don't  want  to  have  anythinu;  more  to  do  with  him. 

I.OKII  MAYOH  (/</'/"''"'''''.'/'.'/!.  \'ery  pmd.  You  hear.  Macnroni? 
Taddeo  generously  allows  you  lo  keep  the  money,  on  condition 
that  yon  never  speak  to  him  or  his  In-other  or  sisters  airain.  Do 
you  aiLTee  to  that  V 

MAC  \iioNi  (xiilli  iil/i).  Yes,  j-our  honor,  i  .  1  x/'tli  .  )  I've  lost  the 
fiddle. 

I.  OKI)  MAYIU:  (I'mm'tir/  fvriruril).  Then  it  is  all  settled,  and 
everything  is  satisfactory.  The  Court  has  -eeun  -d  a  mn-iciaii. 
I>y  Ihe-way.  can  Paul  ]ihiy  or  sing 

Ti.ss\  [xliiil.-iini  In  r  In,  nl'.  Xo.  sir;  Paul  has  no  ear  for  music 
at  all. 

LOUD  MAYOR  (tlwughtfuUy).  Could  he  play  a  hand-orpin  ''. 

TESSA.  Perhaps  lie  could,  sir,  with  a  frond  deal  of  practice. 

Lout)  MAYOR.  Very  well,  then,  we  will  tret  him  one.  and  he 
can  practice  three  hours  every  day  until  he  can  play  the  "  Sweet. 


"THE    KIDDLE    HAS    BEEN    UUESSED !" 


15y-and-]?y";  for.  you  know  (he  nods  to  tin'  ntlnT*  mn!  ti«jinx  In  bint 
lime) — 
ALL  (in  chorm): 

All  kinn's  and  caliphs  did  tlic  same 
When  nxiod  Al-Kaschid  won  his  fame. 
Curtain  fatts. 


NOTE.— The  properties  of  1liis  little  play  :ire  very  simple,  nncl  it.  ln:iy  be  pci- 
fin-med  in  :iny  pnrlor  <u-  drawing-roora.  The  oust  nines  ef  t tie.  chilili  en  :ire  sup- 
posed to  be  shabby;  though  P;inl,  when  Ihe  meiikey  disguise  is  thrown  off, 
nuiy  lie  belter  dressed  th:in  tin-  ntliers.  A  little  eltorr  will  easily  nijinn- 
lacriire  a  monkey's  skin  out  of  u'rav  < 'an nni  rtannel,  and  it  slioti M  hes<>  rotiti-ived 
that  il  c:in  be  instantly  ill  i.pped  ofi".  Thi-  ni-i y  ea-ily  he  (it me,  since  the  monkey 
is  already  on  Ihe  sta^re  when  the  cm  tain  iises  on  (he  third  act.  ami  docs  not, 
move  Until  the  time  Conies  fur  dropping  the  ^artnctit.  It  should  lie  attached 
to  a  string  lending  ofl'  to  tlie  side  of  the  staLrt\and  immediately  inilled  oat,  of 
siirht.  Antonio's  hand-or^an  may  lie  made  out  of  a  soap  or  starch  box,  by 
painting  it  the  color  of  black  walnut,  tacking  a  piece  of  red  muslin  or  cloth  to 
the  front,  and  attaching  a  wooden  handle  to  the  side.  If  a  violin  can  not  be 
procured,  a  rotl^h  one  may  hf  readily  m  ule  with  a  ciirar  bos  and  a  few  bits  <•!' 
wood  and  strini,'.  It  makes  no  diflcreiice  whether  it,  can  be  played  on  or  not. 
The  Lord  Mayor's  costume  is  a  purple  gown,  bordered  with  ^rold,  and  slashed 
with  sold  on  the  sleeves.  A  gold  collar  or  band  hangs  from  each  shoulder, 
where  it  is  fastened  by  purple  rosettes.  The  Aldermen  ,-ue  attired  in  scarlet 
robes  with  fnr  trimming.  Of  course  anything  in  the  way  of  a  showy  outside 
garment  will  answer  the  purpose.  The  airs  are  all  taken  from  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan's  new  opera.  lolanflii',  which  can  be  obtained  from  anv  music  dealer 
for  one  dollar.  In  arranging  Ihe  "business"  of  the  stage  it  would  be  well  for 
the  young  performers  to  have  the  advice  aud  assistance  of  some  person,  older 
than  themselves. 


334 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  HAVE  a  word  this  week  for  my  dear  little 
housekeepers.  Ilately  overheard  one  ofthem 
saying  to  a  friend  that  she  thought  it  very  silly 
for  people  to  take  so  much  care  about  food.  In 
her  opinion  the  mind  was  of  far  more  impor- 
tance than  the  body. 

I  would  be  very  sorry  indeed  if  I  supposed  that 
any  of  my  young  correspondents  were  so  de- 
voted to  eatinsr  nice  things  that  they  were  i in  the 
way  to  dyspepsia  or  any  other  troublesome  dis- 
ease. If  you  eat  too  many  bonbons,  pea-nuts,  or 
dainties,  you  may  pay  for  the  folly  by  being  un- 
able by-and-by  to  enjoy  a  plain  dinner. 

If  you  were  ever  on  a  steamboat  you  have 
been  interested  in  watching  the  engine  which 
keeps  it  in  motion.  If  there  were  no  fuel  put  on 
the  fire,  however,  the  engine  would  stop.  Thai 
little  engine,  the  stomach,  must  have  its  fuel  too. 
or  else  the  brain  will  not  work,  and  the  hands 
and  feet  will  grow  heavy  and  become  useless. 

So  I  hope  you  all  take  a  good  wholesome  lunch- 
eon to  school,  and  put  it  up  so  nicely  that  it  look-; 
tempting  when  you  open  the  basket  or  box  at 
noon.  And  I  hope  those  who  go  home  to  dinner 
have  a  recess  long  enough  to  let  them  take  the 
meal  without  fretting  lest  they  may  lie  late  for 
the  afternoon  session. 

Please  do  not  eat  between  meals,  nor  nibble 
chocolate  ereanis  and  other  confections  in  the 
evening.  A  girl  or  boy  who  has  been  studying 
hard  all  the  evening  will  not  he  hurt  by  a  eraeK- 
er  or  a  piece  of  bread  and  butt er  at  lit •>! time 

Do  you  think  you  can  remember  all  this;' 


(  'an  any  lit  tie  reader  tel!  me  which  of  the  ^re.-it 
poets  drew  this  pretty  pen  picture  of  a  little  girl  ? 

"  A  basket  on  her  head  she  bare  : 

Her  brow  was  smooth  and  white: 
To  see  a  child  so  very  fair 
It  was  a  pure  delight. 

"  Xo  fountain  from  its  rocky  cave 
E'er  tripped  with  foot  so  free  : 
She  seemed  as  happy  as  a  wave 
That  dances  on  the  sea." 

Some  of  you  find  quotations  in  prose  and  verse 
as  school  exercises.  Some,  I  hope,  learn  by  heart 
the  pieces  you  like  best.  Now  whose  hand  shall 
first  be  held  up  to  name  this  poet,  and  to  tell  the 
name  of  the  poem  from  whicli  these  stanzas  are 
taken  '' 

This  little  correspondent  has  seen  some  won- 
derful sights,  and  has  a  queer  raft  and  some  odd 
passengers  to  tell  us  of  : 

VEHNON,  INDIANA. 

I  am  a  boy  ten  years  old.  I  live  near  the  Ohio 
River,  where  there  was  a  great  flood.  A  great 
deal  <  >f  property  was  destroyed  by  the  flood.  The 
people  from  here  sent  food  to  the  people  at  La  w- 
renceburgh,  who  were  almost  starving.  At  Madi- 
son a  corn  stalk  was  seen  floating  down  the  riv- 
er loaded  thick  with  rats.  A  woman  was  seen 
on  top  of  a  floating  house  holding  a  pig  in  her 
arms.  I  like  HAKI'KK'S  Yorxi;  I'KOCLE  very  much. 
I  think  the  best  stories  are  Jimmy  Brown's  and 
David  Ker's.  ARTHUR  D.  B. 


VERNON  COUNTY,  MISSOURI. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old,  and  I  live  on 
one  of  the  broad  prairies  of  Southwest.  Missouri. 
We  had  a  queer  visitor  th  s  winter:  it  was  a  lit- 
tle prairie-bird.  My  uncle  brought  it  in  half-fro- 
zen ;  one  of  its  wings  was  injured  so  that  it  could 
not  fly.  It  hopped  around,  and  ate  and  drank. 
and  seemed  to  be  very  happy,  when  one  morning 
mamma  opened  the  window  while  sweeping  (aft- 
er it  had  staid  with  us  two  weeks),  and  it  flew 
out.  and  we  never  saw  it  again.  My  uncle  Willie 
gave  me  your  interesting  and  instructive  paper 
for  mv  birthday  present.  I  think  the  story  of 
"Nan"  is  so  nice.  MART  L. 


ST.   I  JVAfE,   MICHIGAN. 

I  thought  I  would  write  my  first  letter  to  the 
I1. 1-1  office  Box.  I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years 
old.  I  live,  in  the  lower  part  of  the  Upper  Penin- 
sula, just  across  the  straits  from  Mackinaw  Isl- 
and. This  is  a  very  pleasant  place  in  the  sum- 
mer-time, but  very  unpleasant  in  winter,  for  the 
enow  is  very  deep,  and  there  is  so  much  cold 
wind.  Papa' has  several  lumber  camps  seventy- 
five  miles  above  this  place,  and  my  brother  and  I 


went  up  to  them  during  the  holidays.  I  study 
one  of  your  hooks  called  Harper's  School  Geogra- 
phy. There  are  four  churches  here.  I  play  tlie 
organ  in  the  First  Congregational  Church  every 
Sunday  morning.  (Jood-by.  FLOY  M. 

I  am  glad  to  have  among  my  friends  a  little  girl 
who  at  eleven  can  play  the  organ  in  a  church. 


R.OCKCASTLE    SPRINGS,  KENTUCKY. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— I  have  been  taking  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  since  last  November,  and  have  fallen  so 
much  in  love  with  it  and  with  you  that  I  can 
scarcely  wait  for  its  weekly  arrival.  I  had  pre- 
viously taken  another  magazine,  and  was  so 
afraid  I  shouldn't  like  Yorxc;  PEOPLE,  hut  I  am 
delighted  witli  it. 

\\v  have  been  staying  all  winter  at  Rockcastle 
Springs.  My  papa  and  uncle  own  it.  Itisabeau- 
tiful  mountain  resort.  The  hot  el  nestles  between 
two  high  mountains,  near  the  brink  of  a  most 
lovely  river.  You  can  stand  on  the  front  piaz- 
zas and  throw  pebbles  into  the  water.  There 
are  all  kinds  of  game  fish  in  it.  I  caught  a  large 
pike  and  a  white  salmon,  for  which  I  have  re- 
ceived a  great  deal  of  praise,  as  they  are  both 
very  game  aud  difficult  to  laud.  We  have  a  num- 
ber'of  row-boats,  and  I  can  row  splendidly. 

I  am  ten  years  old.  and  daily  recite  English 
history,  third  part  geography.  Town's  Definer. 
and  arithmetic,  and  have  just  laid  aside  the  Fifth 
Header.  I  have  a  little  brother  seven  years  old  ; 
his  nam<Ss  St.  clair.  He  is  in  the  Second  Read- 
er. He  can  row  on  the  river  beautifully. 

I  have  two  lovely  birds  —  a  German  canary 
named  Be-be,  and  a  linnet  named  Fraud.  Be-be 
i~  the  smartest  bird  I  ever  saw.  He  will  peck 
your  finger,  kiss  you.  and  if  you  do  not  say.  "  Kiss 
me  easy."  he  will  nearly  take  a  piece  out  of  your 
lip.  When  we  let  him  out  of  his  cage  he  follows 
u*  about  like  a  poodle,  and  will  fly  on  our  heads, 
and  play  hide  ami-seek.  Fraud  laid  thirty-four 
eggs  last.  year,  but  they  did  not  hatch. 

We  have  a  splendid  playfellow — of  course  it  is 
a  dog — whose  name  is  Fern.  But  she  did  such  a 
dreadful  thing  :  the  other  night  she  got  in  our 
play-room,  and  carried  off  five  of  my  dolls  and 
hid  them.  How  I  did  cry  !  Your  little  friend. 
NAUNERLE  C. 

I  am  six  years  old.  and  I  live  a  little  way  out, 
of  town.  I  have  seen  so  many  letters  from  little 
girls  that  I  thought  I  would  like  to  tell  you  about 
my  pets.  My  elder  sister  Lil  and  I  have  each  a 
lovely  pony ;  mine  is  white,  and  hers  is  black. 
In  the  summer  we  ride  almost  every  day.  I  am 
just  learning,  anil  like  it  very  much,  though  at 
first  I  was  afraid.  I  hope  this  letter  is  not  too 
h  mg.  and  that  I  shall  see  it  in  the  Post-office  Box 
very  soon.  Lil  is  writing  this  for  me,  as  I  can  not 
write  well.  MADGE  S. 

Where  does  little  Madge  live?  She  must  ask 
Lil  to  write  again  and  tell  me.  I  like  to  know 
where  my  pets  are  when  I  am  reading  their 

lei  !  i-l^ 


CHELSEA,  MASRACHL-«FTT«. 

T  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  go  to  school 
every  day.  My  brothers  take  Yorxr,  PEOPLE,  and 
I  read  it  and  like  it  very  much.  I  like  the  story 
of  "  Nan"  ever  so  much.  I  have  a  cousin  about 
my  age  in  Kansas  on  a  sheep  ranch,  and  after  we 
read  our  paper  we  send  it  to  her.  We  have  at 
home  a  little  Japanese  dog.  His  name  is  Jap, 
and  he  is  very  cunning.  I  have  had  my  picture 
taken,  and  Jap  was  taken  with  me.  He  was  very 
much  frightened  when  we  took  him  to  the  pho- 
tographer's, and  was  sick  all  the  next  day. 

HATTIE  T. 


Now  these  boy  friends  who  have  been  waiting 
so  politely  to  make  their  bows  may  step  forward  : 

FLUSHING,  MICHIGAN. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— In  No.  173  you  earnestly 
invited  the  boys  to  write  to  you,  so  I  thought  I 
would.  My  favorite  sport  just  now  is  skating, 
and  I  think.it  is  very  fine  sport.  I  am  fourteen 
years  old.  and  am  publishing  a  paper  called  /;<,//» 
and  CHr/s,  which  occupies  nearly  all  of  my  time 
out  of  school.  I  send  you  a  copy,  which  l'  think 
is  pretty  good  for  a  boy  of  my  age.  Don't  you? 
I  love  to  read  the  hooks  and  stories  written  by 
Trowbridge.  I  think  that  a  printing-press  is  a 
good  thing  for  a  boy.  for  then  he  is  not  idling 
around  the  streets  in  the  evenings  and  learniii" 
evil  habits.  My  brother  takes  HARPER'S  YOUSII 
PEOPLE,  and  we  all  like  to  read  it  very  much. 
ROBERT  M.  R. 

Your  paper  is  very  clever  and  very  neatly  print- 
ed. I  make  a  quotation  which  express  -  un 
views  precisely.  Boys  and  girls,  read  it.  please  • 

"It  is  better  to  yield  a  little  than  quarrel  a 
srreat  deal  The  habit  of  •  standing  up.'  as  peo- 
ple call  it.  for  their  little  rights  is  one  of  the  most 
disagreeable  ami  undignified  in  the  world." 


]iltim:i:i'op.T,  CONNECTICUT. 

I  am  eight  years  old.  I  have  no  pets,  like  other 
boys,  hut  have  a  little  sister.  Her  name  is  Ada  • 
she  is  the  pride  of  all  our  hearts.  With  love. 

IIOWAP.I)    H. 


FORT  SNELLINC,  MINNESOTA. 

I  have  been  taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  year,  and  like  it  very  much,  par- 
tie  n la rly  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box.  Mam- 
ma reads  the  paper  to  me  every  week  as  soon  as 
it  comes.  I  have  seen  letters  from  other  posts. 
but  have  never  seen  one  from  here,  and  you  will 
oblige  me,  dear  Postmistress,  by  putting  my  little 
letter  in  the  Box,  for  I  am  anxious  to  see  it  in 
print.it  being  the  first  mamma  has  written  for 
me  to  a  paper.  She  often  writes  to  my  little 
cousins  for  me. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old,  and  have  for 
pets  a  dog.  a  cat.  a  pigeon,  and  some  chickens. 
My  dog's  name  is  Rover.  He  is  a  very  old  dog. 
Papa  brought  him  from  Alaska  nine  years  ago; 
he  was  a  puppy  then.  I  have  travelled  a  good 
de_al,  we  think,  for  a  little  boy,  and  I  expect  yon 
will  think  so  too  when  I  tell  you  where  I  have 
been.  I  was  born  near  San  Francisco.  I  have 
travelled  !HKH)  miles,  and  lived  at  many  different 
posts — Presidio,  San  Francisco.  Fort  Canby.AVyo- 
ming  Territory.  Fort  Warren,  Massachusetts,  and 
Fort  Snelling.  Minnesota. 

This  has  been  a  very  cold  winter  here— the  cold- 
est in  many  years,  so  persons  say  who  have  lived 
here  all  their  lives.  W .  F.  S. 

WEST  NEWTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

We  are  a  little  boy  and  girl  nine  and  ten  years 
old.  We  study  at  home  with  papa.  We  and  our 
little  neighbors  have  formed  a  society  to  protect 
poor  dumb  animals.  Our  only  pets  are  two  lame 
cats  and  a  bird.  I  must  tell  you  a  pretty  story 
about  our  horse  Vercingetorix.  Aunt  Daisy  told 
us  how  to  spell  that  word.  Vercingetorix  is  very 
fond  of  Jugurtha,  our  cat.  who  climbs  up  on  his 
back  aud  goes  to  sleep.  One  day  a  large  yellow 
dog  ran  into  the  stable  and  tried  to  seize  the  eat. 
but  it  leaped  up  on  the  side  of  the  stall,  and  Ver 
cingetorix  wouldn't  let  the  dog  get  him,  and  he 
bad  to  go  away. 

Our  uncle  has  just  comeback  from  China,  and 
brought  us  many  rare  things.  We  would  like  to 
exchange.  We  are  writing  this  all  ourselves,  and 
hope  it,  will  be  printed,  to  surprise  dear  mamma 
on  her  birthday.  We  are  afraid  this  is  too  long, 
but  we  like  to  write  to  the  Postmistress. 

HOSE  and  FRANK. 

The  Postmistress  hopes  that  mamma  has  not. 
had  her  birthday  yet,  but  whether  she  has  or  not 
she  is  a  happy  mother  to  have  two  such  darlings. 
It  is  a  very  good  idea  to  protect  the  poor  dumb 
animals,  and  I  wish  more  children  would  form 
such  societies.  If  you  send  an  exchange,  it  shall 
be  tucked  into  the  proper  place. 


*;REAT  HARRINGTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  in  a  boarding-school,  and  we  have  fine 
times  here  up  among  the  Berkshires.  Last  week 
the  boys  wrote  "compo's"  on  Washington,  and 
two  of  them  received  prizes  in  the  shape  of  a 
bust  of  the  great  and  good  man.  One  of  the  big 
fellows  at  the  head  of  the  school  made  an  ora- 
tion. We  have  had  beautiful  skating,  and  I  made 
a  skate  sail,  on  which  1  towed  some  of  the  boys 
on  a  ripper  here. 

I  am  expecting  to  have  work  enough  soon  in 
tlie  eare  of  a  flying  squirrel.  Last  Saturday  a 
school-mate  and  myself  went  to  see  <  rosby,  the 
Hermit  of  the  Housatonic.  He  is  a  very  well-read 
man.  and  also  a  hunter,  but  is  queer,  and  some 
people  think  not  quite  in  his  right  mind,  ",\V 
boys  like  him.  He  showed  us  his  guns,  and  a  can- 
non which  he  calls  his  baby  He  catches  the 
squirrels  and  keeps  them  in  his  house,  and  has 
promised  to  give  me  one. 

In  the  evenings  I  practice  on  the  piano,  and 
have  a  study  hour.  s<  mietimes  this  routine  is  plea- 
santly varied  by  skating  or  coasting  parties  by 
moonlight,  on  our  coasting  ground  there  is  what 
is  called  the  second  bumper.  It  is  a  sort  of  jump- 
iug-off  place,  where  the  boys  have  jumped  fifteen 
feet  on  rippers  and  thirteen  on  skates. 

We  have  very  little  weather  which  prevents 
out-door  sports,  but  it  has  been  too  stormy  to  i;. , 
out.  and  then  we  employ  ourselves  in  cutting 
brackets  with  the  fret-saws.  Just  before  Christ 
mas  the  machines  were  in  such  demand  that  the 
boys  had  to  take  turns  and  use  them  by  the  hour. 

My  favorite  stories  are  Dali  Ktnzer,  Tlr  <jnnr- 
tette.  and  Amniiifl/tf  Ltikm.  I  like  William  c).  stod- 
dard's  stories,  and  wish  T.  B.  Aldrich  would  w  rite 
more  for  boys.  My  favorite  game  is  base-ball,  or 
was  until  I  was  presented  with  a  bicycle,  which 
I  expect  to  enjoy.  It  is  a  50-inch  Standard  Co 
lumbia. 

I  have  no  room-mate  this  term.  Last  half  I 
had.  and  he  left  a  calendar,  a  verse  of  which  I 
ha\  ••  taken  for  my  motto  : 

"Howe'<  r  ii  be.  it  seems  to  me 

"Tis  only  noble  to  be  good." 
The  scenery  here  is  very  beautiful.  I  mean  to 
photograph  it  next  summer,  and  get  some  fine 
views.  I  have  walked  three  miles  up  Prospect 
Mountain  to  East  Hock.  This  rock  is  to  be  seen 
In  Picturesque  America.  It  is  a  tilt  ing  rock  about 
twenty  feet  high.  c.  c.  W...IIN. 

You  arc,  I  fancy,  at  a  very  good  school,  and  are 
leading  just  the  sort  of  life  a  boy  should.  But 
that  jumping-olT  feat  sounds  alarming  to  a  lady 
in  her  easy-chair.  I  am  relieved  that  you  and 


MARCH  27,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


335 


ymir  comrades  atv  imt  likely  to  do  it  very  many 
'  liis  spring. 


n  T  i .  Ml. -Hi.:  *s. 
Til''  I'ostinistre,          ,  .  hi  ;ir  \\  li:il 

mil  i  if  seh  o< )].     I  bring  in  w 1  ;iinl  draw  water. 

I  like^to  play  marbles  as  well  as  ans  -aim      My 

l:i\orite   aniM-i  in.  lit    in   \\iiit.r  i-   -liilin^  down- 
hill and  skating;  in  the  summer. swlmm 

going  harcio.,1       I   iik,>  animal  i ks  and  hooks 

of  adventures  best      j  think  my  favorite  author 

is  C    \  Stephen-      [have  two  books  by  Mm,  77t( 

'  (v6  .-in1 1    /'/"    I"'"//"/    i/ 

I  MM-  i  '1    IIIV  I  'brist  nil  -   I ,  -    \\  as  named    II 

In  n  ild  /",'  '  •  I  ha\  6  i-e.-nl  it  through 
three  limes  i  wonder  it  an\  oi  the  boys  ha\.- 
read  Paul  lln  ('liaillii's  books,  and  how  they  like 

tin-Ill  ? 

I  have  a  horse  named  Kitty,  anil  my  sister 
(Jrace  has  a  do£  named  l,'"-\  [had  a  dog  named 
Jumbo,  and  I  sold  him  for  fifteen  dollars  (.race 
mail.'  some  little  sponge-cakes  alter  tin-  receipt 
in  1  "i  •  i1  re  splendid. 

KIIIIIE  II.  L. 


I  M  ,   K.ISSV1. 

T  am  n  little  linv  eight  years  old.  and  live  in 

lillxell        The  stories  ill    •>  Ol    KG    I'l  "PI  K  are  all  ill- 
ten  -1  ing  ;  Illy  favorite  is  "  Vin  "      I  ha  \  en't  any 


ii'     t\  is    /  "•    •  •.'/.>•»  i'  >iii>  <'  if  it ' ""  ".*"" ,  111  \    i  a  \  1 1 1- 

i!.-  game  hide  and  seek.      l'a|ia  has  a  library,  and 

"lie  of  IIIV  amusements    is  t.i    have    t 

In  inks  i  ean  ii"i  read  myself,  of  which  one  that  I 

like   very  tnueh   is   entitled    / 

II.        '    '  /.'•  M',     in.illi.    i-.  "  ll.mesly    is   the 

best  policy," and  I  Intend  to  help ] r  little  half- 

el.nl   ehlldri'I]  "lit.  i.l   t  lieir  J.M\  ert  y  \\  hell   I   get    to 

lie  a  man.  WAI.TKK  J. 


II.  re  is  a  story  from  one  of  o\ir  bright  girls,  and 
it  is  very  well  told  indeed  : 

V  VTTIE'S  .\r>YKN"n  I,T 
"  Oh,  mamma,  I  am  so  lonesi  d  Mat- 

1  ie,  as  she  stopped  rocking  the  baby  "  Si  nee  we 
moved  here  I  have  not  se.'ii  a  |ierson  exee|,t  1'ali 
n ie.  and  that  was  t  \\  o  niont  hs  ago." 

"  Well."  answered  Mrs    llroun.  in  a  comforting 
voice."  Fannie  is  tile  oldesl    of  a    lalniU    ol    si\. 
and  she  lias  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do;  bi 
she  lives  two  miles  away;  Imt  if  your  In 
willing  to  1,-t  you  go  alone.  I  \\  ill  i  r\  i .    s|   u 
this  after n.  and  you  m.n  go  and  aee  her."" 

Mattie     jumped    up.   flapping    In  r 
went   to  work  with  a   will  for  the   rest    of  the 
morning. 

Mr   I'.rou  n  did  n.  >t  consent  M  r\   i  eadilv.  fov  he 

saiil.  "There  is  a    thick   strip  of   \\ Is  about   a 

mil.-  from  here. and  it  is  very  likely  that  it  Mat- 
tie  stays  late  she  may  em-omit  er  a  bear." 

Hut  after  much  girotesting  that  she  was  n. ii 
afraid,  and  would  not  stay  late,  he  eonsentrd. 

At  two  o'clock,  bright  and  happy,  Mattie  start- 
ed off.  She  was  very  hrave.  st  ill  she  thought  she 
\\ould  not  like  to  pass  through  tin-  woods  alone 

at    llight.       NoW.howeMT.it     was    delightful,  mill 

sin-  lingered  quite  a  while  pii-kin^  tin-  roses  that 

grew  along  the  road  side  she  rcac-hed  Fanni.-'s 
hoiise  in  safety, and  spent  a  very  pleasant  atter- 
in  i.  in 

Meamvhile  her  father  fc-lt  v.-rv  anxious,  and 
was  sorrv  he  had  heen  jiersuaded  to  h-t  her  go 
alone.  At  supper  time  lie  said.  "  1  think,  mother. 
1  will  walk  down  toward  the  Woods  and  see  il 
Mattie  is  coming, "and  off  he  slam  d 

He  saw  nothing  of  Mattie  until  he  reached  the 
woods,  and  there  In-  saw  a  xighi  to  make  his  heart 
stand  still.  It  was  Mattie  running,  with  face  all 
aglow,  hair  streaming  out.  hchind.  and  apron 
can-lit  up.  Just  bi-hiud  was  a  large,  licree  black 
i.i  ai 

"\Vliat  sliall  I  do'-"  thought  the  poor  father: 
"  1  can  not  get  to  her  or  she  to  me  "  Suddenly 
lii  rried.  "  Drop  what  you  ha\-e  in  your  apron  !'• 

Mattie  obeyed.  \Vhen  she  reached  her  father 
she  hurst  uito  tears,  saying,  "Oh,  papa.  I  had 
three  of  tlu1  cum  i  ingest  little  black  kittens,  that 
I  found  playing  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  " 

she  was  very  much  surprised  to  hear  that  her 
"kittens"  were  young  cubs,  and  that  she  had  been 
chased  by  tin-  mother  bear  Everybody  was  very 
thankful  for  Mat  tie's  escape,  and  she  never  went 


I" 

through  those  woods  again  alone. 
This  is  a  true  story. 


I'.i  --u.  n. 


rmor-KM  -,.  NKW   YORK. 

I  am  a  little  boy  who  will  he  eight  years  old  in 
April,  and  I  want,  to  write  a  letter  and  tell  the 
little  readers  ,,f  the  Post-office  P.ox  how  I  caught 
an  owl.  line  day.  soon  after  christmas.it  was 
snowing; hard. and  1  was  standing  at  the  window 
looking  into  tin-  yard,  when  I  saw  upon  the  fence 
a  bird  which  I  thought  was  a  very  lar^e  sparrow. 
I  called  my  mamma  to  look,  but  she.  upon  seeing 
its  hi;;  eyes,  told  me  it  was  a  small  owl.  and  that 
I  might  try  and  catch  it.  So  I  went  out.  and  the 
bird  let  me  take  it  in  my  hands  anil  carry  it  into 
the  house.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  lived  only  three 
days;  but  my  papa  let  me  get  it  stuffed,  and  it 


looks  very  nice  to  me.  as  an  owl,  I  imagine,  is 
not  to  In   caught  in  the  city  every  day. 

I  am  tning  to  rind  a  motto  to  be  mine,  and 
when  1  tind  one.  if  you  print  this.  I  shall  write 
again  and  tell  it  to  you.  Vn  nut  E.  s. 

1    -hall    not    forget    your    promise    about     the 

motto 


I   l:>  I.l  I.:.  I. Mil  BO,  \  lt:..rM  l. 

All  the  little  girN  ;Uni  !,.,,,„  write  about  their 

lion,-  but  my  dolls.      I  take  II  nil-Kit's 

.  iike  it  ever  -o  much.  "Nan" 
is  a  splendid  -tor),  and  I  can  hardl>  wait  from 
one  \\eek  to  the  other  to  get  the  paper  I  ant 
writing  this  letter  myself.  I.I/XIK  B. 

Now  that  "Nan"  ha~  i  tided,  I   hope 

you  will  be  equally  pleased  with  the  "  liaising  the 

'Pearl.'" 


PAS  «.-K.  NFW   JrlUKY. 

My  liome  is  twenty  four  miles  from  NYw  York 
eil\       I  am  twehe  \ears  ,.1,1,     \V V  have  a  very 

L'ood     sel 1     here,    and    I    like    my    teacher   ^ery 

much,    iin  the  -,';th  of  February  we  celebrated 
i  -  birthday  by  the  children  giving  quo 

tali. .us.  reeitini:  some  of  his  ] ms.  n-adiliL'  bis 

life,  and  sinirinir      \\  e  bad  a  few  visit,  n-.  and  all 

i  ii  MTV  much. 

\Ve  have  four  kittens.     Mine  is  named  Pansy  ; 
the  oi  he  i 's  are  n.ns\ .  Punch,  and  Judy.    We  h  i  \ , 

ie.  she  is  very  cunning':  she  coughs  and 
whistles.  ,  alls  her  own  name.  Mairuie.  and  my 
name.  Kittle,  and  Nettie,  the  lit  lie  do::,  sf 

way."  "  I'retty.  pretty."  "  Naughty  bird." 
and  sot'ii,-  other  things  which  a:e  \,  i\  amusing. 
1.  like  all  the  rest  ot  the  children,  think  the  story 
of  " Nan"  was  splendid.  KITTIK  W. 


, 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.     I  have  no 
pets.    [  have  a  bal  :  in-  \\  in  i,e  i  wo 

years  old  on  the  Inl  h  ot  .hine      \\  e  are  going  to 

I'l'.'.kKn  on  the  1st  ,,f  May.      I  \\ant  to 

ll\e  111  Brooklyn    M  rj    nilleli.but  have  never  lived 

tin  n  .  an. I    do    not     I.IH.'A    how    I    sh,i]|    |i]4e    it.      I 

.   L' I   in.in\   cousins  there      I   have  -i\ 

dolls;  one.  a   tun,!.,    baby,  i-   a  rhinese  doll  that 

turns  his  head  all  around,  and  \\li.n   >..ii   pinch 

will  make  a  lloisr  almost  like  a  baby,  and 

it  makes  me  laugh,  and  mamma  and  papa  too.     I 

!    print    t  his.  a  s    jt    |s    m\     !j]-s(    let  tel-   to 

a  paper.     I  have  written  some   to  my  grandpa 
and  auntie  .\\si-;  s.  II. 


Tno* .  Vi  .\    V  .ILK. 

1  :i~!   <  hri-1  mas  I  ree,  i\  ed  a  \  i.  .Iin.  and   one  i  .f 

my  ainils  ura\e  me  a  nice  ring,  and  my  uncle  a 

FtheUi     ed  States  and.  best  ,.f  all. 

;:'-    Voi  \,.    Pi  .  .1-1  t     1 1  a-  another  year.     I 

have  a  i-o w  of  my  own  ;  my  grandpa  ga\e   h    to 

me  \\  hen  it  \\  as  a  little  calf,  and  I  milk  il  myself ; 

and  besides  I  ha\  e  a  horse   a  Inn  I.  and  eighl  hens. 

I  could   Write  more,  but    tear  it   Would  be  loo  long. 

and  I  want  very  ininb  to  see  this  leltcr  published 
to  surprise  ,n\  i-i  .iisjn  in  New  York.  I  would  like 
to  have  .limmy  I'.rown  write  otteiier,  tor  I  have 
an  Aunt  Sin-,  and  she  has  a  1  rii  nd  \\  h'  >--•  naim  [a 
Jim.  (eiod-by.  KKANK  II. 


• 

I  am  a  little  hoy  nine  years  old.    I  live  in  North- 
ern Iowa.     It  is  ignite  cold  here:  the  thei- me 

t  cr  has  been  thirty-two  degrees  be  low  zero.  The 
snow  has  been  eleven  or  twelve  inches  on  a  Icy- 
el  I  read  nearly  all  the  continued  stories  in 
Yin--,,:  Pioi'ir.  i  liked  "The  cruise  of  the  Ca- 
noe club. "and  "Mr.  stuhbs's  Brother,"  and  al- 
ways enjoy  Jimmy  Brown's  stories.  I  didn't  take 
HAKPKIS'S  YotlNa  PEOPLE  when  "Toby  Tyler  was 
published.  Imt  have  got  the  book.  JAMIE  M. 


Maudie  came  to  me  the  other  day,  saying, 
"Won't  you  tell  the  Little  Housekeepers  how.  to 
set  in  a  patch  neatly?  Tom  does  tear  his  jacket 
so  of  ten,  and  I  mend  it.  so  as  to  save  dear  mamma 
the  trouble." 

When  >on  have  to  mend  a  garment,  take  time 
and  take  pains, 80  that  you  may  do  it  well :  mend- 
ing can  not  be  hurried.  Baste  the  patch  very 
smoothly  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  torn  article, 
turn  the  edges  in.  and  hem  them  down,  lln  tin 
right  side  cut  the  hole  into  a  square  shape,  turn 
the  edges  in.  and  hem  them  neatly  on  the  patch. 
Sometimes  you  can  darn  the  hole  on  the  patch, 
and  I  have  seen  this  done,  on  the  knee  of  Jack's 
pantaloons,  for  instance,  so  very  nicely  that  no- 
body would  imagine  they  had  been  torn. 

One  of  the  most  annoying  things  some  of  my 
Lit  tic  Housekeepers  have  to  encounter  is  the  sew- 
ing on  of  shoe  buttons.  They  are  forever  pop- 
ping off.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  sew  them  on  very 
strongly  with  waxed  thread  when  the  shoes  are 
new.  Then  keep  at  band  in  your  basket  some 
strong  linen  thread,  a  large  needle,  and  a  supply 


of  buttons,  and  if  a  button  is  loose,  why,  presto  !  a 
i nent's  work,  and  it  is  fastened  as  it  should  be. 


PfZZLES  FROM  YiH'XC  CONTKIIU'TclHS. 

No.  1. 
A    roRKSCKKW. 

1.  A  fastening.  •_•.  A  state  a  The  heroine  of 
a  popular  story.  4  \  figure,  r,  people  who  do 
not  wear  hats.  ii.  Cultivated  land.  7.  A  summer 
fruit.  M  To  escape,  '.l.  A  letter  in  the  (ireck  al- 
phabet in  To  fret. 

The  corkscrew  bi'gins  with  the  third  letter  of 
the  first  word,  and  \\  inds  its  way  to  the  final  let- 
ter of  the  last  word.  It  is  something  we  shall  be 
very  glad  (o  see.  MOTH KH  111  m  B 

No.  e. 

EASV   1)1,1  MOMIS 

1.— 1.  In  straw.  2.  To  plunder.  3.  A  small  sail. 
I  A  Lank  of  sand.  a.  In  violet 

!i.— I.  In  unit.  3.  A  Mtb  in  the  ], resent  tense. 
:!  \  test.  l.  Found  in  a  lidd  of  corn.  :,.  In  al- 
bum. le'MKO. 

3.—  1.  A  letter.  •„'.  A  c.neiing,  a.  A  bird.  I.  A 
fold.  a.  A  letter.  ~  I'.  S.  WKSCOTT. 

No.  3. 
i  il  \KAIII:. 
My  first  is  the  giart  of  a  day, 

My  second  at  feasts  overflows  : 
My  whole,  standing  linn  as  it  ina\ , 
Is  never  in  gierfeel  regiose. 

LILY  II.  WOOD. 


No.  I. 

-    I    lo\. 

\\hat  word  is  that  in  the  Knglish  language 
which,  originally  of  one  syllable,  becomes  a  word 
ol  t  \\  o  syllables  by  t  he  cut  t  ing  off  of  the  first  t  \\  i  >- 
letters:-  '  Lll.Y  II.  Wool). 


No.  r,. 
WOIin  SQlfARE. 

1.  A  domestic  animal,    a.  A  drug.    :i  T..  make 
dean       1.  A  girl's  name.     .">.  To  improve. 

Tn  \  i  i  K 


No.  Ii. 


I  \  conjunction.  2.  A  lad  :i.  Notwet.  I.  Fear. 
5  \  to\  I1,  1'art  of  the  body.  Centrals  give  tin- 
n;  .....  of  a  country  ill  Kurope.  TIM  AND  TIP. 


ANSWKItS  'I'D  1TXXI.KS  IX  No.  175. 

No.  1.  PLAT   O 

L  A  T  I  N 
BONN  Y 
I,  E  A  S  K 
ITALY 


No.  2. 


No.  8. 


R  A  V   E  L    I 

N   A   Y  A    I, 

N   K  I) 
N 

A  L  M  A 

L  E  A  !•' 

M  A  M  A 

A  F  A  I{ 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  r lived 

from  Hilly  Honeysuckle.  Samuel   Rranson,  Lily 

11    \\ I,  Ernest  Wolkwitz,  I!,  II.  L..  Lulu  Ib-y- 

ward,  Ivlgar  Seeman.  Thayer.  L.  Bruckman,  car- 
roll  Hunting,  Sophie  Dove,  (iriswold  Stuart,  Amy 
Winslow.  Lottie  V..  Fanny  Cheeseman,  (irace 
Yan  Name.  Tom  Benson,  f*.  I*.  P..  C.  A  Colden, 
Dandy,  Walter  A.  May.  Luclla  Deniston,  War- 
saw. A.  M.  Rloomingdale.  Kodgers  and  Thurston, 
Carrie  Willmarth.  Max  Ilcint/elinatin.  U.  S.  D., 
K  it  t  -  I'll  iver.  W  in  if  red  and  cha  rlie.  Jimmy  Jones, 
mshaw,  Alida  Graves,  Josie  Brown,  Floy, 
I  'ram  .  Johnnie  and  (•<  •  >rgie. 


[Fur  Excliaiigtf,  fff  '-'•/  <"«ir  '•','/  /aiges  nfcorer.] 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


A-  (/  II"/'1'    xlai''  -I/OH*!',  fl'ill  .<til,-k"r  /'-//// 

,,i,i"  ,n,  .1  //Hi/,  fin-  tin  irlmli  liniifiliflil  if  rliililrm. 
fi'ini  Hi,-  nve  onus  to  the  Imi/s  innl  ijir/x  intl  on  in 
//i,ii-  I,  i  us.  Parents  can  milk?  mi  in'mlnke  in  suli- 
scribing  for  //"--  nn-i-'iit  //"'/-.  //"/?  ni,'/r  l',m,  ',"'•; 
nil/if  har?  a  ycm-ly  roniul  ofjoi/.  —  From  the  Sunday- 
sel  .....  I  Journal,  edited  by  the  Rev.  Jons  H.VIN- 
CENT, D.D. 


SUBSCRIPTION  PRICE.  $1.50  PER  YEAR. 


1IAKPER  &  BROTIIEP.S.  PUBLISHERS,  N.  Y. 


336 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


'If  broken  egg-shells  are  not  crushed  tin-  «  ii< -lies  will  put  to 
sea  in  them,  and  sink  ships.1' — Old  Xuyiity. 


AVHO  WAS  HE? 

BY  L.  A.  FRANCE. 

HE  was  born  in  London,  October  14, 1044,  and  was  the  son  of 
;in  Admiral.  lie  was  the  oldest  child,  and  had  but  one 
brother  and  one  sister.  He  studied  at  Oxford,  and  stood  high 
as  a  scholar,  but  was  expelled  from  college  for  attending  the 
meetings  of  a  certain  religions  sect  whose  views  he  held. 

His  father  sent  him  to  travel  through  Holland  and  France, 
and  he  remained  there  several  years,  devoting  as  much  time  to 
study  as  to  amusement. 

After  his  return  home  lie  was  sent  to  Ireland  to  attend  to 
his  father's  estates,  but  he  turned  more  tirmly  than  before  to  his 
former  views,  and  when  he  returned  again  to  London  he  began 
to  preach. 

lie  was  imprisoned,  but  soon  obtained  his  freedom.  He  was 
imprisoned  again,  and  sent  to  Newgate  for  six  months.  When 
[he  was  set  free  he  travelled  for  a  time  in  Holland  and  (ic-r- 
iiianv. 

He  was  married  in  1672  to  Giilielma  Maria  Springelt. 

He  Lad  a  claim  against  the  government  for  .t'lli.iidti,  in  settle- 
ment for  which  he  was  given  the  grant  of  a  large  territory  in 
America,  with  the  right  to  form  a  colony  with  laws  in  accord- 
ance with  his  views.  He  came  to  America  in  Iti^ri,  when  a  char- 
ier was  issued  and  a  city  planned. 

He  returned  again  to  England,  was  accused  of  treason  and  de- 
prived of  his  title  to  the  laud,  but  was  declared  innocent  in  l(i'.).'!, 
and  the  title  re-issued  in  1(5114. 

He  returned  to  America  in  Ki'Jtl,  and  remained  two  years.  He 
died  on  the  :?0th  of  July,  1718. 

lie  was  noted  for  uprightness  and  justice. 


-   <  --  ,"  ~=*i?     --•"    I     **-  \>s    'V    i| 

\ .  m      '-3M% 

^  i       ^      ; 


COLTS    WILL    BE    COLTS-NEDDY   RETCTJXS    HOME    AFTER    A    FROLIC    WITH    THE    CHILDREN. 

Ax-xioi-s  MOTIIKI:.  "For  pit>'s  sakes.  Edward,  where  have  you  bei          l'l;ivin-  with  those  children  asuin.  I  suppose,  ami  ;,  pivtrv 

lininv  Hi'  fun  they've  made  »r  you,  too  "' 


CHARTERS 


m 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED     WEEKLY 


VOL.  IV.    No.  i;:i. 


POJJLJSHKD  BY   1 1  A  I  i  I '  K 1 1  \-    BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE     FIVK    <  KNTS. 


II  .  l.rkK   &.    BuuTHKU. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


HENRY    THE    EIGHTH    PLAYINU    TENNIS. 


THE  ROYAL  GAME  OF  TENNIS. 

~\7~ERY  different  indeed  from  our  modern  game,  lawn 
*  tennis,  is  the  original  and  ancient  game  of  tennis, 
no\\-  sometimes  called  court  tennis.  People  who  are  fond 
of  goinu'  hack  to  the  beginning  of  things  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  tracing  tennis  back  to  the  reign  of  the  English 
King  Henry  III.  When  they  have  got  thus  far  they  find 


that  even  in  those  days  the  game  was  considered  an  an- 
cient one,  and  they  discover  that  the  Romans  had  a  game 
of  tennis,  which  they  called  pila. 

Now,  think  they,  wo  have  the  "'way-back"  origin  of 
tennis.  But,  oh  deal',  no!  The  ancient  Greeks  played 
tennis;  and  possibly  before  them  the  more  ancient  Phry- 
gians, and  so  on.  Arrived  at  the  Greeks,  the  historian 
of  games  generally  gives  up  the  search,  and  contents  him- 


333 


HAttPETC'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


self  with  the  thought  that  the  origin  of  tennis  lies  too  far 
back  in  the  history  of  the  world  to  he  discoverable  at  this 
late  day. 

Both  in  England  and  France  tennis  was  a  favorite  game 
among  the  wealthy.  The  French  royal  families  played  in 
a  court  at  Versailles,  which  is  now  used  as  a  gallery  for 
statues.  The  English  monarchs,  beginning  with  Henry 
VIII.,  used  the  court  at  Hampton  Court,  the  palace  which 
Cardinal  Wolsey  built  for  himself,  but  was  obliged  to  give 
to  his  envious  sovereign. 

Our  illustration  gives  a  view  of  the  tennis-court  at 
Hampton  Court,  and  in  the  foreground  we  see  the  King 
himself.  A  less  illustrious  person  might  perhaps  have 
been  a  more  active  and  skillful  player,  for  King  Harry  was 
no  light  weight,  but  few  people  seem  to  have  enjoyed  the 
game  more.  On  one  occasion  there  was  a  brilliant  array  of 
nival  players,  Henry  and  the  Emperor  Maximilian  of  Ger- 
many playing  against  the  Prince  of  Orange  and  the  Mar- 
quis of  Brandeiiborough.  The  Earl  of  Devonshire  was 
not  too  proud  to  "  chase"  balls  for  the  two  monarchs,  nor 
Lord  Edmond  for  the  players  of  less  exalted  rank.  The 
result  of  this  game  was  quite  satisfactory,  for  it  is  record- 
ed "  they  departed  even-handed  on  both  sides,  after  eleven 
games  fully  played."  What  puzzles  the  modern  reader  is 
how  they  could  have  played  eleven  games  and  yet  ''de- 
part even-handed." 

Although  it  was  a  rare  thing  for  ladies  to  take  part  in 
tennis,  it  was  .not  unknown,  for  we  read  of  a  damsel  named 
Margot  who  was  not  only  a  match  for  many  of  the  gentle- 
men of  the  time,  but  played  equally  well  with  the  palm 
and  the  back  of  the  hand.  In  those  days  (when  Charles 
V.  was  King  of  France)  the  game  was  called  palm-play, 
for  it  was  played  with  the  hand  covered  with  a  glove. 
Later,  tennis-players  bound  cords  around  their  hands;  and 
later  still,  some  one — we  do  not  know  who,  but  we  have  a 
tender  regard  for  his  memory  —  fastened  cords  across  a 
pear-shaped  frame,  and  put  a  handle  to  it.  Hence  our  fa- 
miliar racquet. 

And  now,  having  seen  that  the  game  of  tennis  is  of 
highly  distinguished  origin,  let  us  see  what  manner  of 
game  it  was  and  is.  The  court  in  which  it  is  played  is 
ninety  six  feet  long  by  from  thirty -three  to  thirty-nine 
feet  wide.  It  is  inclosed  on  all  four  sides,  and  is  covered 
by  a  roof.  But  its  interior  walls  are  not  at  all  like  the 
sidi's  of  a  box;  they  are  broken  up  into  all  sorts  of  queer 
angles  by  buttresses  and  roofs  and  what  not.  Along  the 
two  end  walls  and  one  of  the  sides  runs  a  long  gallery 
with  a  sloping  roof,  which  comes  to  within  about  se^ven 
feet  of  the  floor.  At  one  end  of  the  court  this  gallery  is 
open,  and  here,  protected  by  netting,  the  spectators  sit  to 
watch  the  game.  This  is  called  the  "dedans."  The  whole 
of  the  long  gallery  is  called  the  "pent-house,"  and  its  slop- 
ing roof  plays  an  important  part  in  the  game,  as  it  requires 
a  great  deal  of  practice  to  judge  at  what  angle  a  ball  will 
fall  to  the  ground  when  it  has  struck  in  its  course  a  per- 
pendicular wall  and  the  roof  of  a  shed. 

The  man  who  planned  the  first  tennis-court  must  have 
laughed  to  himself  as  he  laid  those  additional  traps  for 
unskilled  players  called  the  "grille,"' the  "passe-line,  "and 
the  "tambour."  The  "passe"  is  simply  a  line,  but  it  must 
be  carefully  avoided  in  serving;  the  "  grille"  is  a  recess  in 
the  corner  of  the  pent-house,  and  when  a  ball  falls  in  it 
one  is  counted  against  the  striker.  As  for  the  "  tambour," 
it  is  nothing  but  a  provoking  and  unnecessary  angle  in 
one  of  the  side  walls,  and  must  have  been  put  there  out 
of  pure  contrariness,  to  add  one  more  to  the  difficulties  of 
the  beginner. 

Very  few  people  in  this  country,  even  among  those 
who  have  travelled  in  Europe,  have  ever  seen  a  match  at 
court  tennis,  for  the  courts  are  very  expensive  to  build, 
and  are  rare  even  in  England  and  France.  There  are 
only  two  courts  in  this  country,  one  at  Boston  and  the 
other  at  the  Casino  at  Newport.  Those  of  our  readers  who 


may  visit  the  latter  delightful  resort  next  summer  should 
not  fail  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  court,  and  see  the  game  which 
has  endured  for  centuries  upon  centuries,  and  been  the 
favorite  pastime  of  kings. 


FLO  AND  FLORA. 

BY   ADA   C.  S  T  O  D  D  A  R  D. 

IT'S  too  bad!"  declared  little  Flo  Stetson,  pulling  off 
her  hat.      She   had  come  to   spend   tlie  sunny  half- 
holiday  with  her  cousin,  whose  name  was  the  same  as  her 
own,  but  who  didn't  begin  to  be  so  rosy  and  dimpled.     "  I 
don't  call  such  doings  as  that  fun  !" 

"What?"  asked  Flora,  glancing  Tip  listlessly  from  a 
lapful  of  canvas  and  worsteds. 

And  Flo  told  her.  It  was  at  school  the  day  before, 
which  had  been  the  last  day  of  March,  that  the  boys  were 
recounting  the  tricks  they  had  played  in  other  years,  and 
little  Micky  Lanahan  asked  in  his  funny  way,  "Sure,  an' 
who  bees  April-Fool  ?" 

Micky  was  a  new  boy.  He  stood  leaning  against  the 
school-yard  fence  as  he  spoke,  with  his  small  red  hajids  in 
his  pockets  and  an  anxious  look  on  his  face  as  he  gazed 
down  at  his  boots.  Those  boots  were  a  sad  trouble  to 
Micky;  they  were  very  large,  and  the  toes  turned  up  and 
gaped  wofully,  and  they  were  all  he  had. 

A  shout  arose  in  answer  to  Micky's  question  from  that 
merry,  thoughtless  group. 

"He  don't  know  April-Fool,  boys." 

"Oh,  Boots!" 

"We've  been  acquainted  with  him  ever  so  long." 

"And  we'll  give  you  an  introduction  when  the  time 
comes,"  laughed  Fred  Stetson.  "Won't  we,  boys  :" 

"And  they're  going  to,"  said  Flo — "Fred  and  Teddy 
Blake — and  I  don't  think  it's  fair.  His  folks  are  real  poor, 
and  his  mother's  sick  almost  all  the  time.  They  make 
fun  of  his  boots,  you  know — and  they  are  dreadful  things, 
really — and  so  they're  going  to  hang  one  of  the  boxes  that 
new  shoes  come  in  on  the  door,  with  a  bundle  of  papers  in 
it,  and  'April-Fool'  printed  on  the  inside  piece.  And 
they're  going  to  look  in  the  window  and  see  Micky  when 
he  gets  it.  Fred's  fooled  me  lots  of  times  to  day.  but  I 
don't  care  for  that.  I  don't  think  it's  much  fun.  though, 
and  it's  mean  to  fool  that  little  Micky  Lanahan.  So!" 

Flo's  cheeks  glowed  cherry  red,  and  she  talked  rapidly. 
Flora  listened  with  kindling  eyes. 

"Flo,"  she  cried,  "I'll  tell' you  what  to  do.  All  the 
time  my  ankle's  been  sprained,  you  know,  I  haven't  spent 
my  pocket-money.  I've  got  two  dollars  now.  and  I  was 
going  to  buy  you  a  birthday  present;  but  I'll  spend  it  for 
a  pair  of  shoes  for  Micky  instead,  if  you're  willing." 

Was  Flo  willing  ?     She  almost  screamed  with  delight. 

"Oh,  you  dear  Flora!"  she  cried.  "And  I'll  change 
the  boxes!  Oh,  Flora  Millings,  what  fun!  Such  a  joke 
on  Fred  and  Teddy !  And  Fred  said  he  wouldn't  be  fooled 
once  this  April.  Oh,  oh !" 

Flo  could  not  wait.  She  put  on  her  hat  and  almost 
flew  down  to  the  shoe  store  and  home  again.  Fred's  box 
neatly  tied  up  was  on  the  hall  table  waiting  for  night,  and 
it  was  only  the  work  of  a  moment  to  replace  the  little 
bundle  of  papers  with  a  pair  of  stout  shoes. 

"Such  fun!"  said  Flo  to  herself,  and  she  almost  burst 
out  laughing  when,  after  tea,  Fred  took  the  box  from  the 
hall  table  and  went  off  with  Teddy  Blake. 

'After  all,  I  don't  half  like  this,"  he  said  to  Teddy. 
"If  it  was  any  other  fellow  I  wouldn't  care  a  snap. 
But  of  course  it's  only  in  fun.  I  told  him  we'd  introduce 
him." 

"Of  course,"  laughed  Teddy;  and  so  they  made  their 
way  down  a  cross  street  and  through  an  alley  to  the  little 
tumble-down  house  Micky  Lanahan  called  home. 

Fred  put  the  box  down  quietly  at  the  door  and  rapped. 


Al'llll,  8 


IIAKPKU'S   Y 


PEOPLE. 


The\   had  plenty  of  time  to  dodge  an  nil  id  the  corner  of  the 

lions  10  a  window  :  and  they  were  Looking  in  even  before 
Micky  had  his  liaiid  on  the  latc-li. 

It  was  such  a  poi  i  r  litili'  i-oo  in.  bare-walled,  bare-floored, 
and  scantily  furnished!  A  tliin  fared  woman  sat  bolster- 
ed up  in  the  only  rockinir-chair  it  contained,  and  a  lamp 
burned  dimly  on  the  rickety  talilc.  Tin'  l>iy  boots  stood 
in  .  comer,  and  when  Fred's  ya/e  fell  upon  them  he  sud- 
ly  turned  it  the  oilier  way. 

"Ted."  he  whispered,  "I  wish  \ve  hadn't.  I  do  wish 
dn't,  Ted." 

There  w'as  a  shrill  cry  of  .joy  from  Micky  then.  He 
had  opened  the  door  and  discovered  the  box.  and  his 
freckled  face  was  heanmiLT  with  delighted  surprise  when 
lie  came  hack  into  tin-  room. 

"  I  Icli.  mother,  it  do  he  shoes!"  he  cried. 

The  thin  while  face  in  the  rocking-chair  was  turned 
cayerh  toward  the  hoy. 

"Sun-  il  can't  he  the  truth.  Micky." 

"'Deed  it  is,  mother!"  cried  Micky.  tngiringat  I  he  string. 
•'  What  else  should  il  lie  now  '." 

Fred  al  the  window  yroaiied  inwardly. 

"Such  a  miserable  linn;;  I.,  do!"  he  said.  "I'd  give  a 
dollar  In  he  out  of  it,  Ted.  I  don't  see — 

"  You  did  it  yourself,"  said  Teddy,  not  very  yood  na- 
turedly.  "Yon  thought  of  il,  and  all,  but  I'd  yive  an- 
other dollar  if  we  hadn't,  and  that's  a  fact  Let's  go." 

"  \Yait."  said    Fred.       "We'll    make  this  up  Hullo! 

Why.  Ted    Ted  Blake!" 

For  Micky  had  u'ot  I  he  t  ronl  ile-ome  twine  unkiiolled  at 
last,  and  had  pulled  from  the  box  those  sloiil  thick  shoes. 
And  lie  was  capering  about  the  room  wild  with  .joy. 

"p.e.-mt  they  illegant,  mother  ?  Oh, mother, look!  l>id 
ye  iver  sic  I  lie  loikes  .'  An'  'twas  April -Fool  that  fete  lied 
'em — it  says  April  Fool  on  the-  paper!  Sure  it's  a  foine 
oil  hi  gi  nl  lei  nan  he  is.  Oh.  mot  her.  it's  cry  in'  for  gladness 
I  am.  sure!  'Twas  April  Fool  fetched  'em  till  me 

"Then    April  Fool    never  did   a    Keller   piece   of   work." 
said  Teddy,  feeling  not  a  hit  ashamed  of  the  teal's  that  lill 
ed    Ins   own    eyes   almost    to   overllow  iny.       "Hut.    I    say, 
old  fellow  "      and  hi'  bewail  |o  laiiyh. 

I  think  you  can  not  imagine  two  more  astonished  boys 
than  (hose  who  slid  softly  away  from  Mrs.  Laiiahan  s 
window  and  hastened  oil'  honi"  in  the  darkness. 

"Such  a  yood  joke!"  laughed  Fred.  "I  never  was  so 
glad  of  anything  in  my  life." 

"We'll  pay  for  those  shoes,  anyhow,"  said  Teddy. 
"  I  'an't  you  guess  who  did  it,  Fred  '." 

"I  think 'twas  Flu  and  Flora,"  Fred  answered.  "  An\ 
way,  I'm  almost  sure'  Flo  had  a  linger  in  the  pie." 

He  was  quite  sure  of  il    when,  a    little  later,  he  opened 

the  hall  door  at  I ie.      For  a  plum])  little  form  glided  up 

to  him,  a  dimpled  little  hand  tucked  itself  under  his  arm, 
a  rosy  little  mouth  was  placed  close  to  his  ear,  and  a  soft 
little  voice  whispered,  "April-fool!"' 


A  DIVE,  A  PLUNGE,  AND  A  CATCH; 

OK,   HOW    MY    MAN    CAriillT    THE    KiTAXA. 
BY  J.  W.  CARRIN'GTON. 

THE  sketch  of  the  iguana,  by  Mrs.  Coiiant,  published 
some  time  ago  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  recalls  an  incident 
of  one  of  my  journeys  that  the  boys  may  like  to  hear 
about.  Thirty  years  ago  I  was  going  up  the  Chagres 
River  on  my  way  to  Panama  for  the  second  time.  It  was 
before  the  Panama  Railroad  or  the  town  of  Colon,  which 
"we  call  Aspinwall,  was  built.  At  that  time  we  used  to 
land  at  the  town  of  Chagres,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
and  go  up  the  river  in  canoes  either  to  Gorgona  or  Cruces, 
and  from  there  on  mule-hack  in  Panama. 

The  journey  up  the  river  was  a  very  long  and  crooked 
one,  of  from  sixty  to  eighty  miles,  and  of  course  against 


the  current,  which  was  very  strong.  It  was  slow  work. 
and  I  have  often  spent  from  two  to  three  da\  s  in  pitting 
up  to  the  landing-point.  The  canoes  were  what  we  called 
"dug-outs" — Robinson-Crusoe  boats — hollowed  out  of  a 
single  log,  and  the  large  ones  were  heavy  and  strong. 

My  largest  I  had  two-  -was  about  twenty-five  feet  long. 
and  amidships  about  live  feet  wide.  On  the  lower  half  of 
the  river  my  men  rowed:  on  the  upper  part,  in  shallouer 
and  more  rapid  water,  they  laid  a  plank  a  Ion u~  each  side 
of  the  canoe,  on  which  they  walked  while ''setting' '—that 
is,  pushing  the  canoe  up  stream  with  lony  poles.  'Plies;' 
poles  they  would  plant  lirmly  on  the  bottom  of  the  river, 
and  then  push  againM  them  as  they  walked  back  toward 
the  stern  along  the  plank.  So,  you  understand,  they  sat 
when  they  rowed  with  the  oars,  and  stood  when  they 

"set"  with   I  he  poles. 

It  was  heavy  work,  and  frequently  through  the  da\  we 
would  haul  up  to  the  bank  under  the  shade  of  the  trees, 
and  give  the  men  a  rest.  The  banks  were  heavily  wood- 
ed; the  tropical  forest  was  very  thick,  and  came  down  to 
I  he  edye  of  the  water.  One  day.  about  three  o'clock,  1  let 
my  men  run  the  canoes  in  under  the  shade  of  a  la  rye  tree 
right  at  the  mouth  of  a  little  brook  which  emptied  into  the 
river,  and  from  which  we  knew  we  could  get  cool  clear 
water  for  our  waier  kegs. 

It  was  ill  a  hot  climate,  remember,  and  the  water  of  the 
river  was  muddy  and  warm.  So  we  all  took  a  drink,  tilled 
our  kegs,  and  then  settled  ourselves  for  a  rest,  my  passen- 
ger friends  lazily  lounging  on  the  bright,  clean  mats  under 
the  toldo,  or  palm-leaf  roof,  over  the  al'lcr-part  of  the  ca- 
noes, and  my  crew  napping  on  the  setting  planks. 

One  of  the  men,  however,  sal  on  the  plank  next  the 
shore,  with  his  feet  hanging  overboard,  eating  his  lunch. 
As  a  general  thing  these  canoemen  wear  very  little  cloth- 
ing, usually  a  head -covering,  and  light  cot  I  on  drawers 
reaching  from  waist  to  knee. 

As  we  were  thus  taking  our  ease  we  suddenly  heard  on 
the  bank  above  us  a  noise  of  men  callin.Lr  in  the  depths  of 
tin'  forest,  a  rustling  through  the  thick  underbrush,  and 
the  barkiny  of  dogs.  We  sprang  up  from  under  the  lal- 
dos  to  see  the  hunt,  for  that  il  evidently  was. 

In  a  moment  or  two  we  heard  a  rush  through  bushes  or 
boughs  close  lo  us.  and  then  out.  on  a  I  a  rye  branch  which 
stretched  high  above  and  over  t  he  canoe  ran  a  huge  iguana 
— the  hunled  game.  Apparently  surprised  by  seemy  him- 
self confronted  with  more  human  enemies  he  paused  for 
a  second,  and  then  dived  into  the  river,  scaicely  two  feet 
from  the  knees  of  the  lunching  canoeman. 

Instantly  the  man  sprang  from  his  seal,  straightened 
himself,  and  down  he  plunged,  feet  foremost,  into  the  deep 
water,  as  nun  I  as  an  iron  bar  shot  down  by  a  strong  hand  ; 
away  on  a  gentle  eddy  quietly  floated  the  best  part  of  his 
dress — his  grass  hat. 

We  all  drew  a  long  breath,  and  wonderingly  awaited 
the  end.  For  a  moment  or  two  everything  seemed  to  re- 
main quiet.  Then  there  was  a  splashing  in  the  water  as 
if  a  mighty  battle  were  going  on.  Our  little  boat  rocked 
as  if  there  were  a  tempest  about  us.  Every  instant  we  ex- 
pected to  see  the  water  grow  red  with  the  blood  of  our  un- 
happy canoeman,  and  the  huge  beast  rise  to  the  surface 
with  some  fragment  of  his  victim  in  his  jaws. 

We  had  not  calculated  upon  the  awkwardness  of  the 
iguana,  however,  or  the  wonderful  sharpness  of  our  black 
boatman.  There  were  a  few  more  moments  of  breathless 
expectation,  during  which  one  might  perhaps  count  live. 
Then  came  a  break  in  the  water,  and  almost  where  he 
went  down  up  popped  the  black  head  of  the  canoeman, 
and,  gripped  hard  and  fast  by  his  tail  and  the  back  of  his 
neck  so  as  to  prevent  his  biting,  was  the  iguana  held  firmly 
in  his  grasp. 

As  soon  as  we  grasped  the  situation,  a  hearty  laugh 
went  round.  Then  with  one  accord  we  went  to  work  to 
help  our  valorous  canoeman.  In  spite  of  his  struggles 


340 


HAKPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  clumsy  prisoner  was  got  on  board,  securely  bound, 
and  deposited  in  the  bow,  after  which  we  resumed  our 
journey. 

Just  before  sundown,  finding  a  cleared  space  on  the 
banks,  we  beached  our  canoes,  and  tied  up  for  the  night. 
The  men  made  a  fire,  slaughtered,  dressed,  and  cooked 
their  game  in  a  sort  of  fricassee,  and,  with  characteristic 


1  courtesy,  extended  a  polite  invitation  to  their  captain  and 
his  passengers  to  partake  of  the  delicacy.  It  was  "re- 
spectfully declined  with  thanks."  It  certainly  looked 
nice  and  tempting — white  as  young  chicken — and  (after  I 
learned  to  eat  frogs'  legs)  I  have  been  sorry  I  did  decline, 
for  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  iguana  meat  ottered  for 
sale  or  served  at  any  table. 


d^-W  A4:  -v\feiv~M9 

~-~^7^;,   V>c~CC_&-,.-.7-  _    .     .•»vs=?=y4-'.- 


^•^^:?S9$fl 


j  -•   ,~-^--< 

*'"•  -- 


"OH,  THE    MERRY,  MERRY    SPRING-TIME !" 


GENTLEMAN  JACK'S  REVENGE. 

BY  SYDNEY  DAYRE. 

IT  was  the  1st  of  April,  in  a  pleasant  village  situated  in 
the  northern  part  of  Vermont,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  Green  Mountains.  Jack  Forbes  walked  along- 
side of  a  picket  fence  where  the  pickets  were  high  and  the 
spaces  between  them  narrow.  As  usual  he  wore  rather 
a  dignified  air,  which  was  slightly  ruffled  when  his  hat, 
tilted  back  by  an  invisible  thread  above  his  head,  fell  off 
behind  him.  He  looked  very  crossly  over  the  fence  at 
two  boys  who  were  shaking  with  merriment  at  the  success 
of  their  trick. 

"I  knew  that  was  you,  Rob.  You're  in  big  business 
now,  ain't  you  ?"  said  Jack,  noticing  at  the  same  moment 
a  quarter  lying  on  the  walk  tied  to  a  string.  "If  you 
must  play  the  fool,  can't  you  get  up  something  newer 
than  these  baby  tricks  !" 

"  It's  April-fools'  Day,  and  a  fellow  must  do  something, 
mustn't  he?" 

"  Come  here  and  have  some  fun  with  us,  Jack,"  said 
Rob.  "See,  there's  old  Peebles  coming.  Watch  now  how 
neatly  his  hat  will  go  off." 

"Not  I,  thank  you."  Jack  looked  back  at  a  feeble, 
shabby  old  man  who  came  with  uncertain  footsteps. 
"You  wouldn't  really  annoy  such  a  poor  old  chap,  would 
von.  Rob  r 

"It  won't  hurt  him  any,"  said  Rob,  doggedly. 

Jack  stood  quietly  till  the  <ild  man  came  up,  then  raised 
his  hand  and  broke  the  slender  black  thread,  and  as  he  did 
so  set  his  foot  on  the  quarter  until  Rob's  intended  victim 
had  passed  on. 

"I'll  pay  you  up  for  this  before  night,  you'll  see,  Gen- 
tleman Jack,"  cried  Rob.  "  \Yliat  business  have  you  to 
come  here  spoiling  our  fun  ?" 

Jack  walked  on  with  a  laugh,  leaving  Rob  and  bis  com- 
panion to  arrange  their  plans  for  revenge.  He  knew  I  Job 
\\ould  keep,  or  make  every  attempt  to  keep,  his  prom- 
ise, for  if  there  was  one  thing  which  good-humored,  fun- 
loving  Rob  Mudget  excelled  in,  it  was  the  playing  of  small 
jokes  and  the  taking  of  solid  enjoyment  therein. 

Jack,  however,  kept  quietly  on  the  watch,  and  skillful- 
ly managed  either  to  ward  off  Rob's  tricks,  which,  as  he 


had  said,  were  stale  and  babyish  enough,  or  to  turn  them 
upon  their  author  in  a  fashion  which  exposed  him  to  well- 
merited  laughter.  April-fools'  Day  had,  in  fact,  almost 
worn  away  without  giving  Rob  a  fair  chance  of  "getting 
even"  with  Jack. 

There  was  an  amateur  concert  in  the  Town-hall  that 
evening,  given  by  the  young  people  of  the  village  for  the 
purpose  of  raising  funds  for  a  new  branch  of  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association.  The  room  was  crowded,  the 
pupils  of  the  school  occupying  the  front  seats. 

A  young  lady  from  a  neighboring  place  was  about  to 
sing,  and  there  was  perfect  quiet  as  she  took  her  place 
upon  the  stage.  Just  at  this  moment  Jack  heard  a  slight 
movement  behind  him,  followed  by  the  peculiar  sound 
made  by  a  little  round  of  smothered  laughter.  Knowing 
Rob  was  near,  and  having  every  reason  to  suspect  some, 
of  his  trifling  pranks,  he  would  not  look  around,  even 
though  he  presently  felt  a  light  touch  on  his  back. 

His  quickened  ear  had  just  caught  a  whisper  of  "Shame!" 
and  "  Take  it  off,"  when  his  attention  was  drawn  in  anoth- 
er direction.  A  light  music  stand,  which  was  none  of  the 
steadiest,  had  been  placed  to  receive  the  music  of  the  young 
singer.  A  little  nervous  movement  of  her  hand  as  she 
turned  a  leaf  had  unfortunately  overbalanced  it,  so  that 
not  only  the  music  went  flying  off  toward  the  audience, 
but  the  stand  itself  fell  to  the  floor,  which  was  two  or  three 
feet  lower  than  the  stage. 

No  one  but  the  lady  who  was  singing  and  one  who  ac- 
companied her  on  the  piano  were  on  the  stage.  Within 
the  moment  of  painful  embarrassment  which  followed. 
Jack  Forbes  quickly  stepped  from  his  seat  and  gathered 
up  the  music.  As  he  did  so  he  perceived  that  the  rickcty 
little  stand  had  gone  to  pieces.  He  sprang  lightly  upon 
the  stage,  and  bringing  another  from  the  rear,  placed  the 
sheets  upon  it,  and  with  a  bow  to  the  performer  turned 
back  to  his  seat. 

It  was  a  graceful  little  act,  gracefully  done,  and  more 
politeness  and  thoughtful  ness  were  shown  in  the  prompt 
action  than  could  have  been  looked  for  from  most  coun- 
try boys;  it  was  the  outcome  of  a  self-possession  born  of 
careful  home  training  in  good  manners.  The  boys  were 
more  or  less  inclined  to  make  sport  of  the  politeness  of 
"  Gentleman  Jack,"  but  he  had  wisely  accepted  the  assur- 


APKIL  3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


341 


:incc  of  his  ciders  i  which  many  boys  with  equally  good 
training  think  it  manly  to  rffu-.fi  that  good  manners  go 
a  great  (vaj  iii  the  make-up  of  character, and  he  believed 
that.  given  high  principles  ami  hard  \\ork.a  boy  with 
go,  M!  manners  u  ill  <oi it  -I  rip  oiii-  wit  hi  nit. 

P.m.  stepping  fi-iini  tin-  stage,  be  was  surprised  to  see 

nioi-f  nf  a  sensation  in  tin-  aiulifiicf  tlian  what  had  hap- 
pened seemed  to  call  for.  Little  outbreaks  of  la! 

came  from  some  of  tin-  younger  hoy-,  and  a  hroad  Mnile 
app-ared  on  faces  which  should  have  liecn  sober.  One 
of  his  frif  lids  di-f  w  him  to  his  seat  with  a  hurried  whisper. 
"Here,  .lack  von  went  up  tin-re  on  such  a  run-and- 
ju mp  that  I  hadn't  t  imc  to  slop  \  on  ;  it's  too  had  see!" 

"1         Jack.  I'm  sorry,"  stammered   Koh  Mndj          "I 

only  wauled  to  make  the  hoys  laugh  a  little.  1  never 
thought  of  your  getting  out  of  your 

.i.e  ',  -  I ...  .  das  friendly  hands  look  from  the  hack 
of  his  well-lilting  new  coat  a  paper  caul  on  which  were 
displayed  in  staring  capitals  the  wonU, 

JACK  A.   1'AXI'Y. 

lie  nn'.v  under-.  | 1  the  smiles.    "  The  ligiire  I  must  ha  ve 

made  houiuj    and   sera a    In-fore   ail  these   people!"  was 

his    lirst     Calling    thought.        Very    few    among    thfin.   he 
kiifw.  Would  feel  anything  hut  disgust   at   sight   of  such  a 
mean    trick.  Iml    thai    did    not    take    auay    the    morti 
sense  of  having  been   made  to  appear  an  object  of  ridicule. 
He  turned  a\\a\    from   Rob's  eagerly   \\hispeivdap". 
and  left  the  hall,  when  the  en 
terlammenl     was    over,   with 
oul     uailing     to     speak     with 
any    one.   thus    avoidmu     his 
schoolmate.-,      till      the      next 
-iiing. 

As  he  came  up  to  the  p|a\ 
ground    by  himself   jnst    he 
fore  school  opened,  he   heard 
shouts  of  hum-liter.      All  who 

u  ere  i  hen-  seemed   too  lm-\- 

about  something-  which  was 
going  I'll  to  heed  him.  and 
he  joined  ihe  ga/ers  almost 
iiniiot  iced. 

le  'li  M  inlget.  slill  intent  on 
playing  '.he  part  of  liull'oon. 
which  seemed  to  suit  him  so 
well,  was  the  c.-utrc  of  alien 
t  ion  as  he  went  I  lirough  si  Hue 
performance  which  Jack  did 
not  at  lirst  understand. 

I  If  had  upon  his  had;  the 
same  placard  which  Jack 
hid  worn  on  the  evening 
before.  As  Jack  came  up  to 
him  he  was  in  the  act  of 
sticking  the  handle  of  an 
old  broom  in  the  ground, 
upon  which  he  arranged  wit  h 
great  care  a  piece  of  news- 
paper. All  was  done  with 
absurd  ij-estures  and  ail  over- 
acting of  politeness  to  some 
unseen  personage. 

But  as  he  finished  his  act- 
inn"  with  a  mocking  bow.  and  walked  away  in  mock  dig- 
nity, and  with  a,  most  absurd  expression  of  self-approval. 
Jack  Forbes  strode  into  the  circle  with  lips  trembling 
with  rage.  Last  night's  mortification  was  bad  enough, 
without  making  sport  of  him  today.  I  [e  might  have  for- 
given  the  first,  knowing  it  was  not  entirely  intentional, 
but  this  never. 

The  boys  gathered  around  fully  expect  inn1  a  light,  al- 
though some  of  the  more  peaceably  inclined  cried: 


"Don't.  Jack-."  "  It  is  awfully  mean,  though."  "He 
deserves  it  if  ever  ;m\  one  did." 

But  Jack  did  not  strike  him.  Rob  was  somewhat- 
smaller  than  himself,  and  lie  would  have  despised  an  1111- 
ei|iial  light.  He  snatched  ihe  placard  from  his  bad.,  and 
folded  it  \\  ith  quiet  self  control. 

"  As  sure  as  you  and  I  both  live,  Rob  Mud  .net."  he  said, 

in  a  voice  husky  with  passion,  "I'll  keep  this  till  I'm  re- 
venged on  you." 

One  afternoon  a  week  later  a  boy  brushed  from  his 
clothes  snow  which  told  of  a  vigorous  tussle  \\ith  drifts, 
and  scraped  and  stamped  more  from  his  boots,  at  the  door 
of  the  village  drug  store.  There  had  been  one  of  those 
heavy  falls  of  snow  that  are  sometimes  known  in  .Ncu 
Knnlaiid  even  as  late  as  the  lirst  part  of  April. 

"Hubert  Muduct!  What  business  brings  you  here  on 
such  a  day  as  this  :" 

"Very  important  business.  Mr.  AVatson.  My  father's 
sick.  1'Iease  put  this  up  quick;  [  want  to  get  back  as 
soon  as  I  can." 

"You  can't  go  back  to  ni^ht.  boy— you  must  be  cra/.y 
to  think  of  it.  How  did  \ou  gel  here  ;" 

"  (  )\  er  the  hills.  The  lower  road's  all  blocked  so  horses 
can't  get  through  :  but  I  ben-  are  places  u  here  the  snou  "s 
blown  off  01 1  the  hills,  so  a  hoih  can  pick  their  u  ay  along." 

"But  there's  a  dreadful  storm  coming  atop  of  the  oth- 
er one.  You  lltuxtll't  go.  Kob." 


•now  CHILDIS 


THAT    SEEMED 

"I  must."  The  boy 
busied  himself  getting  his 
clothing  in  order  for  his  '  ••' 

homeward  walk  while  the 

medicine  was  being  put  up,  tying  his  trousers  about  the 
ankles  of  Ins  boots  with  bits  of  rope,  and  winding  his  com- 
forter closely  about  his  neck. 

"To  keep  out  the  snow,"  he  explained.      "I  don't  al- 
ways bundle  up  so." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"I  don't  like  it  at  all,  Rob,"  repeated  the  druggist. 
"Seems  as  if  I'd  ought  to  make  you  stay,"  he  added,  un- 
easily,  as  Rob  opened  the  door  and  stepped  briskly  out. 

"You  couldn't  do  that,"  laughed  the  boy.  Then,  more 
sobarly,  "Thank  you,  but  my  father  needs  the  medicine." 

Two  or  three  anxious  pairs  of  eyes  followed  his  fig- 
ure as  he  turned  out  of  the  village  street  and  began  to 
climb  the  nearest  hill.  Everything  betokened  a  heavy 
storm  in  the  opinion  of  these  men  who  knew  well  that  a 
snow-storm  among  Vermont  hills  is  not  a  thing  to  be 
made  light  of.  They  watched  him  on  as  he  went,  now 
faster,  now  slower,  as  the  ground  or  the  snow  happened 
to  favor  him.  sometimes  wading  through  a  drift,  and 
again  skirting  slopes  which  the  wind  had  swept  bare. 
And  they  shook  their  heads  forebodingly  as  he  at  length 
disappeared  from  their  view  beneath  the  gathering  shades 
of  the  threatening  clouds,  hoping  he  might  reach  and 
pass  the  summit  before  the  full  weight  of  the  storm  fell 
upon  him. 

It  was  the  next  day  that  a  neighbor  of  Farmer  Mudget 
opened  the  door  of  the  drug  store,  and  asked, 

"  Anything  been  seen  of  Rob  Mudjjet  ?" 

"  I  tuli!  him  he  ought  not  to  go  back,"  was  the  answer, 
given  with  a  blank  face. 

"He  got  here,  then  2" 

"Yes." 

A  company  of  men  soon  took  their  way  up  the  hill  with 
resolute  faces  but  sinking  hearts,  as  they  thought  of  the 
intense  cold  which  had  been  borne  on  the  wings  of  the 
storm. 

The  news  quickly  spread  through  the  village.  Jack 
Forbes,  after  a  moment  of  thought,  said  to  his  mother, 

"  I  am  going  after  the  searching  party." 

"You,  Jack  <  What  can  you  do  that  they  can  not  do 
without  you  ?" 

"Perhaps  nothing,  but  I  am  going." 

He  was  determined,  and  his  mother  made  some  strong 
coffee,  which  he  put  in  a  tin  flask  wrapped  in  a  newspa- 
per. He  had  recalled  a  time  when  Rob  and  himself,  a 
year  or  two  back,  had,  while  on  a  hunting  expedition 
among  these  hills,  taken  refuge  from  a  rain-storm  in  a 
cave.  It  had  proved  a  dry  and  comfortable  retreat,  and 
it  had  instantly  occurred  to  him  that  there  was  a  chance 
of  Rob's  having  attempted  to  reach  it,  iii  case  that  he 
found  it  impossible  to  make  headway  against  the  wind. 
He  hoped  to  overtake  the  men,  and  followed  their  tracks 
for  some  distance,  but  finally  abandoned  them  to  work 
his  way  in  the  direction  of  the  cave. 

It  was  work,  sure  enough.  Long  before  n earing  the 
point  he  sought  his  hope  of  ever  finding  Rob  alive  grew 
fainter  and  fainter.  If  it  was  difficult  for  him  now  to  ad- 
vance by  daylight  and  in  fairly  quiet  weather,  what  must 
it  have  been  to  the  boy  in  the  storm  and  the  darkness? 

Night  was  closing  in  as  he  approached  the  cave,  and  to 
his  exceeding  joy  he  saw  that  a  small  space  about  its  open- 
ing was  beaten  down  as  if  by  much  treading,_although 
the  light  snow  had  partially  covered  it  again.  All  weari- 
ness wa.-  forgotten  as  he  sprang  to  the  entrance,  shouting, 
"Rob!  Rob!" 

No  answer  came,  and  with  beating  heart  he  made  his 
\vav  in,  and  touched  a  form  huddled  in  a  corner. 

"Rob!  Rob!" 

Still  no  answer.  Jack  shook  him  with  an  energy  in- 
i-r;  :ised  by  excitement  and  alarm,  but  with  no  effect.  He 
was  evidently  in  the  dread  stupor  which  always  results 
from  long  exposure  to  excessive  cold:  had  it  passed  into 
death  '. 

Quickly  Jack  gathered  some  fragments  of  wood  which 
lay  around,  and  took  from  his  pocket  the  flask  with  the 
paper  wrapping,  on  which  he  depended  for  starting  his 
lire.  To  his  sore  dismay  he  found  that  a  slight  leak  from 
the  flask  had  made  it  too  damp  to  burn.  He  hastily  emp- 


tied his  other  pockets,  and  from  an  inside  one  came  a  pa- 
per which,  as  lie  unfolded  it,  brought  into  view  the  words 
"Jack  A.  Dandy." 

He  started  in  surprise.  He  had  not  seen  the  words 
since  he  had  folded  the  paper  in  wrath  at  the  boy  who  now 
lay  motionless  before  him.  The  heat  of  his  auger  had 
long  ago  cooled,  but  he  had  always  cherished  a  determi- 
nation to  revenge  himself  when  the  chance  offered.  It 
was  this  that  had  led  him  some  time  since  to  transfer  the 
placard  to  this  pocket  of  his  winter  coat.  How  childish 
all  that  seemed  now,  as  he  watched  the  smoke  rise  from 
the  burning  paper !  In  the  dead  hush  and  the  fading  light 
Jack  found  himself  wondering  if  on  the  quiet  of  the  eter- 
nal shore  all  the  strife  and  struggle  and  hates  and  re- 
venges of  boys,  and  men  too,  will  not  look  just  as  trifling 
as  his  quarrel  with  Rob  looked  now. 

Soon  he  forced  some  hot  coffee  between  Rob's  lips,  re- 
peating the  dose  from  time  to  time,  while  he  rubbed  the  un- 
conscious boy  with  snow  to  the  full  extent  of  his  strength. 
And  when  at  last  Rob  opened  his  eyes,  Jack  did  not  feel 
how  the  tears  streamed  from  his  own  as  he  thanked  God 
for  this  revenge  which  He  had  granted  him. 

"What  is  it?  You,  Jack  ?  What  are  you  doing,  and 
what  am  /  doing  anyhow?  Oh,  I  know  now.  My! 
ain't  I  stiff,  though  !  Gi'  me  some  more.  Say,  how  did 
you  get  here?  Asleep,  wasn't  I  ?  Well,  I  tried  to  keep 
awake — walked  and  walked  on  that  snow  till  I  was  clear 
tuckered  out,  and  couldn't  take  another  step.  There  ain't 
a  hit  of  feeling  in  my  feet.  Got  anything  to  eat  '.'' 

The  ringing  shouts  which  Jack  sent  through  the  frosty 
air  awoke  such  a  cheery  echo  among  the  hills  as  quickly 
to  reach  the  ears  of  the  men  in  search,  and  the  lost  boy 
was  soon  at  home,  stoutly  declaring  that  all  he  wanted 
was  something  to  eat. 

"Seems  to  mo,  Jack,"  said  one  among  the  school-boys 
some  time  after,  "that  revenge  you  used  to  talk  of  is  rath- 
er slow.  When  is  it  to  come  off  ?  It  was  a  promise,  you 
know,  and  we  want  to  see  the  fun." 

But  Jack  never  told  any  one  except  Rob  how  he  had 
fulfilled  his  promise  to  keep  the  placard  until  his  chance 
of  revenge  came. 

"Jack!"  said  that  young  person,  with  a  solemn 'shake 
of  the  head,  "  if  everybody  took  the  same  kind  of  revenge 
as  you  took  on  me,  what  an  everlasting  jolly  world  this 
would  be,  hey !" 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  -A.  AI  33  S      OTI.S, 

AUTHOR  OF  "TOBY  TYLER,"  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  "Mr..  STUBBS'S  BROTUEB,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  V. 
S  E  A-U  R  C  H I N  S . 

THE  labor  of  putting  up  a  shelter  for  the  night  was  not 
hard,  since  all  that  it  was  necessary  to  do  was  to  pile 
up  against  two  trees  the  branches  they  had  hewn  off  in 
finishing  their  timber. 

After  this  was  done  the  question  of  supper  presented 
itself;  and  since  Captain  Sammy  showed  no  disposition 
to  do  anything  about  gathering  more  oysters,  the  boys 
started  out  to  get  some  for  themselves. 

Bobby  had  an  idea  that  in  order  to  gather  oysters  suc- 
cessfully he  should  wade  into  the  water  after  them,  in- 
stead of  reaching  down  from  the  top  of  the  rocks,  as  he 
had  seen  Captain  Sammy  do;  so  his  shoes  and  s'.ockings 
were  off  in  a  twinkling,  and  his  trousers  rolled  up  as  far 
as  possible. 

His  example  was  closely  followed  by  Charley ;  but  Dare, 

*  Begun  in  No.  ITS.  HAUPEP.'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


APRIL  3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


313 


who  was  doubtful  as  to  whether  such  a  proceeding  was 
wise  or  not,  concluded  that  it  was  safest  to  try  tirst  for 
their  supper  as  the  little  Captain  had  dune. 

Both  Charley  and  Bobby  plunged  into  the  water  when 
they  came  to  the  line  of  reef  where  they  expected  to  find 
I  he  fond,  while  1  tare  crept  along  the  top  of  the  rocks. 

I'.obliy   had  taken  hut  a   few  steps  ill   the  desired   direc- 
tion, and    was  congratulating  himself   upon   having   hccn 
wiser  than    l>aiv.  \vlien    suddenly  he   screamed   in   a   way 
that    was    almost    blood-curdling,  while    his   face    shoued 
IS  of  1  hi'  'jreatesl   fear. 

"  What  is  it  .'  What  is  the  matter  .'"  cried  Dare,  as  lie 
jumped  into  the  water,  regardless  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
in  it  prepared  fora  wetting,  and  ran  toward  the  screaming 
I  a  i  \  . 

Hobby  paid  no  at  ten  I  ion  to  his  (j  nest  ions,  liut  continued 
to  scream,  \\hile  lie   held  up  lirst   one   fool,  and    then    the 
other,  thus    sbou  iug   that    tin  y    were    in    si. me    u  a  \    cun 
led  \\  ilh   his  ]iain  or  terror. 

"It's  a  shark!  It  must  he  a  shark!"  cried  Charley, 
now  .stepping  around  in  the  greatest  excitement,  hut  at- 
tempting neither  to  aid  Hobby  nor  to  gain  the  >horc. 

A  I  1  lie  suggestion  that  it  was  a  shark  Bobby  redoubled 
hi ,  i  H'orls  at  screaming,  with  such  sneeos  that  the  din  was 
almost  deafening. 

Dare  tried  in  vain  to  quiet  Bobby  long  enough  to  learn 

\\hat  the  matter  was,  but  finding  thai  an  almost  impo>si 

hie  task    while  I'harley  was  doiiiL1    - nch    to  add   to   the 

excitement,  he  saiil  to  his  screaming  hrother.  in  tones  that 
were  not  exactly  mild: 

" Now,  see  here,  Charley,  you  are  nol  hurt,  and  I  want 

yon  to  stop  your  noise.      See  if  yon  can  hold  your  tongue 

long  enough  to  help  me  <j.>t  Bob  ashore 

It  seemed  as  if  Charley  had  just  reali/ed  that  he  was 
not  injured  in  an\  way,  for  he  ceased  Ins  screams  almost 
as  soon  as  Dare  spoke,  and,  like  the  sensihle  hoy  he  usual- 
ly was.  at  once  commenced  to  do  what  he  could  touard 
aiding  liis  cousin. 

When  the  tuo  hoys  \\aded  up  to  where  Bobb\ 
standing  he  had  heroine  quiet  for  the  moment,  and  was 
about  to  tell  what  had  caused  the  outcry.  I'.iit  he  was 
interrupted  by  Charley,  who  commenced  to  scream  loud- 
ly— this  time  from  pain  rather  than  fear  and  lie  went 
through  the  same  peculiar  motions  with  his  feet  that  Boh- 
hy  had  hecn  indulging  in. 

Dare  stood  for  several  seconds  as  if  he  had  lost  the 
pouer  to  move;  he  was  as  thoroughly  surprised  a  hoy  as 
ever  visited  the  Florida  coast. 

"What  is  the  matter  :"  he  cried,  forgetting  that  he  was 
in  the  water  above  his  knees,  and  trying  to  stain])  his  foot 
in  order  to  command  attention.      "Tell  me  what  the  mai 
ter  is.  or  I  shall  think  you  are  hoth  cra/.y." 

Charley  paid  no  attention  to  the  question.  He  man- 
aged to  staler  to  the  reef,  across  which  he  leaned,  kick- 
ing- his  heels  high  up  in  the  air,  as  if  only  in  that  position 
could  he  find  relief. 

The  situation  Charley  was  in  helped  to  restore  Bobby 
to  one  or  two  of  the  five  senses  he  appeared  to  have  been 
frightened  out  of,  and  he  started  in  a  very  painful  way 
for  the  shore,  saying  as  he  did  so: 

"  We've  been  bitten  by  something.  It  must  have  been 
a  scorpion.  I  am  sure,  and  just  as  likely  as  not  \ve  are 
poisoned." 

"Don't  be  so  foolish,"  cried  Dare,  impatiently.  "You're 
old  enough  to  know  that  scorpions  don't  live  in  the  wa- 
ter." And  then  he  added — for  he  was  really  afraid  they 
might  have  been  bitten  by  some  poisonous  creature,  al- 
though he  did  not  want  them  to  know  of  his  fears — "Even 
if  a  scorpion  had  bitten  you,  it  wouldn't  kill  you." 

By  this  time  Bobby  had  crawled  high  up  on  the  beach, 
and  was  examining  the  sole  of  one  of  his  feet,  which  was 
bleeding  considerably. 

"Tell  me  how  it  felt,"  asked  Dare,  who  was  anxious 


to  learn   as  nearly  as  possible    just   what   had  caused  the 
trouble,  for  the  sight  of  Bobby's  bleeding  foot  added  to  his 

tea  [-S. 

"All  I  know  about  it."  sobbed  Bob.  as  he  wiped  away 
the  blood  and  sand  with  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  -for  his 
handkerchief  was  in  his  coat  pocket,  tucked  snugly  away 
in  one  corner  of  the  camp — "  is  that  when  I  went  to  step, 
after  I  got  out  where  the  water  was  over  my  knees,  I  felt 
something  sting  me." 

"  What's  the  matter  now-  '.  Who's  killed  ?  Have  more 
pirates  come  :" 

It  was  Captain  Sammy  who  asked  the  question.  The 
oiitcr\  had  broken  in  upon  his  smoky  dream,  and  he  had 
liohhled  along  the  beach  at  Mich  a  rapid  pace  that  his  usu- 
ally red  face  was  now  almost  crimson,  while  the  perspira- 
tion was  running  down  his  neck  in  small  streams. 

"  I'.ohby  and  (  'harle\    \\aded  in  to  get  some  oysters,  and 

- thing  slung   them."  explained  Dare,  feeling   relieved 

that  ( 'aptain  Sammy  was  there  to  share  his  anxiet  \  . 

"Stung,  eh  '."  said  the  little  man.  as  he  carefully  ad- 
justed his  spectacles,  and  examined  Bobby's  foot  with  the 
air  of  a  doctor. 

What  he  saw  did  not  appear  to  frighten  him  very  much, 
for   he   took  out    his   knife  very  quietly,  and   after   some 
little   cutting    of   the  Mesh,  which  caused   1  lobby  to  scream 
again,  lie  dieu   out   of  the  font  a  long  dark  greenish  spliu 
ter.  which  lie  held  up  laughingly. 

"They've   stepped  on   some  sea  urchins.  1  hat's  all  ;  and 
I  lime  they  wade  around  this  coast  they  had  better 
keep  i  heir  shoes  on." 

I  rreal  uas  the  relief  of  all  three  of  the  boys  at  (hiding 
out  that  the  matter  was  no  worse;  but  the  faces  of  the  two 
siitl'erers  clouded  again  \ '  i'>  qiiickh  as  Captain  Sammy 
uent  |o  uork  with  his  knife,  and  they  learned  that  each 
of  the  spines  of  the  sea  urchins  must  he  dug  out.  • 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  his  >-\  esi.jht  was  not  very  keen, 
( 'aptain  Sammy  was  not  remarkably  quick  about  his  work, 
and  more  than  mice  Hobby  cried  aloud  and  pulled  his  foot 
back  from  the  grasp  that  held  it,  but  all  without  troub- 
ling the'  little  sailor  ill  the  least. 

lie  continued  at  his  work  until  he  hud  taken  out  thir- 
tei  n  ot  the  needle  like  spines  from  the  feet  of  the  two 
hoys,  and  then,  after  advising  them  to  bandage  the  in- 
jured members  with  their  handkerchiefs  rather  than  try 
to  put  on  their  shoes,  he  hobbled  hack  to  his  perch  on  the 
rocks  to  resume  his  pipe  and  vengeful  dreams  of  Tommy 
Tucker. 

There  were  no  further  thoughts  of  oysters  after  the  sur- 
gical operations  were  ended,  and  in  fact  it  ssemed  us  if 
the  fright  and  pain  had  quieted  their  hunger  so  far  that 
they  no  longer  thought  about  it. 

With  Dare's  assistance,  (  'barley  and  Bobby  limped  back 
to  the  rude  brush  camp,  and  there  they  lay.  with  feet 
smarting  with  pain,  thinking  over  the  same  subject  that 
was  occupying  Captain  Sammy's  attention — the  pirates 
and  their  work. 

Dare,  from  whose  clothing  the  water  was  trickling  in 
little  streams,  had  commenced  to  undress  for  the  purpose 
of  hanging  his  clothes  before  the  fire,  when  Captain  Sam- 
my shouted  from  his  rocky  perch, 

' '  Here !  what  are  you  goiii'  to  do  now  ?" 

"Going  to  dry  my  clothes,"  replied  Dare,  still  continu- 
ing his  work. 

"Slop  it!"  roared  the  little  man,  as  he  hobbled  toward 
the  camp.  "It  would  be  worse  than  wading  into  the  wa- 
ter barefoot  to  undress  here. 

"Why?"  asked  Dare,  in  surprise.  "My  clothes  are 
soaked  with  water,  and  I  don't  see  any  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  dry  them." 

"You'd  see  and  feel  more'ii  ten  thousand  reasons  why 
you  shouldn't  as  soon  as  you  were  undressed.  Haven't 
you  been  complaining  of  the  mosquitoes  all  day  'i  They 
are  active  little  fellows  down  here  in  Florida,  especially 


BARPER'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VOLl  MI:  iv. 


s          .        '  , 


i.l,.1" 


just  :.:   niL'liI   fall.  ;i ml  T  had  ral  h.-r  -I.  p  mi  two  sea  urrliius 
than  in  a  chance  at   m\    naki-d  l>.  11 

was    ii<>    MI  cil    I'.ir  tin'   < 'aplain    In    -ay  any    mm'.-. 
I'M-.-   i-.  ali/i'il  at    mice   tin-  trouble   In-  wmild   have  been    in 

1 1  ail  lie  ih  mi-  a-  In-  proposed,  ami  he  contented  himself  witb 

wrin^in^  lli<-  water  from   hi-  coat   ami  vol.  ami  -ipie. 
il    fnnii    In-  trull-.  .lil.       Then    In 

iliiwn    a-    m -:  -,lilc  In   llic  lin-  thai    tin-    ln-al    in 

lia\  i-  full  1 1|>|  mi-til  I  lily  I"  dri\  .-  !  In-  dampni"  • 

Wlii-n  lin-  -nn  -.-I  ami  tin-  -haili  >\\  -  b.-iran  In  li-ni:!  li'-n. 
lln-  \viml  rani.-  up  frmn  the  -.-a.  ran-ihLr  lln-  lin'  I"  n..ir 
ami  crackle  in  a  rlii-rrful  \\ay  llial  liai!  a  -. ..  .Inin-j  i-ll'i-i-l 
HIM  .'I  tin  <  .1  man. 

warmth    was  in-atd'ul   in  all:  tin-  -moke  thai  was 

dri\  '.iiiml  -i-i-vi-il  In  keep  ill.-  inn-.|iiil.«-- 

i-rlain    c'Mi'iit.  anil    in    case   anything  -limilil 

liavi'  licrii  l.-ai-m-il  of  tln-ir  ini-fnrl  inn--  by  tlm-.-  on  shore. 

tin-  llaiiu--     •  milil  si'i'Vi-  a-  a  1'i-acon. 

"  .\..\v  make  \-mir-i-lv,--  jn-1  as  i-omfnrla'.  .  .-an." 

-ai.l  (  iaptaiD  Sammy,  -i-alinir  himself  so  m-ar  llic  hla/i-.  in 
nrilrr  thai  In-  iniirlit  uanl  oil'  the  expected  attack  of  i-ln-u- 
mali-in.  that  In-  ran  irn-al  il.ingfr  of  setting  his  wooil.-n 
li-y  i.n  lin-.  "  ll  ain't  any  kind  of  use  to  grumble  at  \ 
you  ran't  h.-]|>.  an'  \ mi  ini^iil  as  well  have  a  good  tilm-  a- 
i  iimpin'  'rniind." 

-.d   advii-r.  lnii    it  sounded  rather  st i 

I-.IIIIIIIL:'  a-  il  ilid  from  tin-  (..m-  who  had  been  doing-  all  the 
frrumlilinL'.  while  the  ln.ys  hail  made  tlie  Ix'st  of  the  aci- 
ni M-i-n  tie  plain 

with    In-    \-. leu    !.•_•-    In-  that   he  ha. I 

fund  nl  'in  \\hieh  he  miLrlit  draw  \vithoiil  f- 


e\h..  and  In- ihiMiirhl  the  time  mi-jhl  1"-  pi. -a-. nil 

ipied  by  li-teniirj-  to  I  i 

"  (  'an'l    \  mi    te||    us    BOT\  .'  d.   both 

fearing  and   Impum    that   li-  :    would  i-all   fi.rlh  one 

Of    \\  hieli    ' 

famnii-.  and  out  of  which  i  mild  linally 

come 

••  Stnrie-:"^rou  led  I  he  lil  lie  ma  ii.     "  I  >n  \  mi  -'p 

i   tlu>  sak.  a   Ini  i.  -,.  tell  to 

A  ho  have  g-ot.  llic  in  -iieh  a  -erape  a-  \  mi   ha 
"No.  Mr."   replied    I'are.  ihinkim.'   the   latter  portion   (.f 

the  Captain's  speech  referred  to  liobbv.    ••  I'.ni  \mi  \\mild 

have  had  the  adventures,  \\bate\er  \mi   nn^lit   have  L.-mn- 
i   for.  and  now  that    We  an-  hen-  and    \\li.-r.-  \ve  i-an'l 
LTi'l  away,  \ve  Would   like  very  nim-h  lo  hear  abmil   them." 
It  -eemed  a-  if  (  'a  plain  Saiiiln  \  •  In  M  rani   1  In  ir 

lest,  for  lie  rr-.-al.-d  himself  in  a  inm-e  emnfnrlaMi- 
position,  and  jrazcd  mil  over  the  water  as  il"  he  i  \  p.  •.-led 
that  fmni  it  would  come  memories  which  would  aid  him 
in  the  task. 

Dare,  who  was  watching  him  close]  face  sud- 

denly liirht  up.  and  he  was  certain  that  thmiulit-  of  -oine 
]ilea-anl     event     in    his    life    had    come    to    the    little    man. 

lint    jn-t     when    In-   expected    to    hear    him    c nience    a 

.  (  'a  plain   Sam  in  v    jumped  to  hi-   feel,  and  cri.  d.   jo\ 

fully: 

"Here's   a    boat    DOW!      Those   little   rascals   must    have 
told  w  here  we  w  ere.  and  -onn-  one  has  cm  ne  for  i. 

Then   lie  s|Ci(,d  u  I/IIILT  mil   over  Ihe  water  with  as  much 
iety  a-  if    In-  had   been    a    -hipw  .  had 

>  d  months  in  the  hitherto  vain  Imp.  ail. 


HA:.  I-I.K. 


I 


A: 
'   •••) 


346 


IIAUI'KR'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


APRIL  GOLD. 

I'SY     IMA.IIV     A. 

TOM  and  his  brother  Antony 

Lived  with  their  grandfather  Gray. 
Yon'tl  never  guess  how  Tom  was  fooled 

Upon  an   April-day. 
••Hoys."  said  the  old  man,  cheerily. 

"Go  down  to  tlu-  village  store1: 
You'll  find  there's  -oinethinir  there  for  you 

That  yon  never  saw  before." 

Tom  said  he  would,  but  Antony 

Just  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 
"Grandfather  dearly  loves  a  joke, 

But  I'm  not  to  be  beguiled— 
I'\c  not   forgot  it's  April-day; 

I'm  off  to  the  mountain  pool. 
You  may  go  to  the  village  store, 

But  you'll  be  an  April-fool. 

So  Antony  went  to  the  mountain  pool, 

And  Tom  io  the  village  went. 
And  on  the  way  was  oft  inelined 

His  going  to  repent. 
But  at   the  store  hi-  found  a  box 

Addressed  to  Thomas  Gray; 
^Vith  many  a  hope  and  many  a  doubt 

He  carried  the  box  away. 

Antony  said.  "  Don't   open  it ; 

It    is'  just   two  years  to-day 
Malt   Herrick  got  an  April  box — 

It  was  full  of  moss  and  hay." 
But  Tom  made  answer  to  the  doubt: 

"That  folly  I  do  not  mind  ; 
I  know  who  sent  Matt  Herriek's  box, 

But  grandfather's  far  more  kind." 

Oh,  bill    Ant'ony  laughed  in  glee 

As  on"  the  covers   were  i'a-1  : 
Twenty   covers   were  taken   off. 

But   the   box  was  found  at   last. 
Five  golden  dollars  in   the  box. 

And  a   little  uole  that  said: 
"Dear  lads,  it  isn't   ihe  smartest  wit, 

ll    Kn't   the  wisest   head. 

"That   always  wins  in  this  busy  life. 

We  must   love  and  trust  alway; 
And,  Tom,  I'm  glad  your  heart   could  trust 

That  even  on  April-day 
Grandfalhcr  would  not  cheat  your  hope 

For  doing  what  you  were  told; 
And  don't   forget,  when  you're  a   man 

How  you  won  your  April  gold." 


AN  (H,I)  STORY   FROM   DENMARK. 

THE  BOY  WHO  FOUGHT  AGAINST  NELSON. 

BY  DAVID  KKl; 

THERE  are  many  things  well  worth  seeing'  111  the  old 
town  of  Copenhagen,  the  prettiest  of  all  Danish  cities. 
There  is  the  Exchange,  built  260  years  ago.  willi  a  queer 
old  spire  shaped  like  seven  serpents  all  twisted  up  together. 
There  is  the  great  white  mass  of  the  Round  Tower,  with 
the  winding  path  up  which  Peter  the  Greatj  once  went 
on  horseback.  There  is  the  Frue-Kirke,  with  its  mar- 
ble figures  of  Christ  and  the  twelve  apostles,  carved  by 
the  famous  Danish  sculptor  Thorwaldsen,  whose  grave 
you  may  see  in  the  middle  of  the  Royal  Museum,  with  the 
statues  which  he  made  standing'  around  it  like  sentinels. 
There  is  the  royal  park,  in  the  centre  of  which  lies  the  or- 
namental lake  where  old  King  Frederick  VI.  used  to  row 
himself  about  in  a  small  boat,  with  crowds  of  people  look- 
ing on.  And  then,  last  but  not  least,  there  is  the  tall  house 
at  the  corner  of  the  Oester-Gade,  or  East  Street  (the  Broad- 
way of  Copenhagen  i.  at  which  the  little  Danish  children 
looked  up  sadly  one  morning  in  1875  when  they  heard 
that  dear  old  Haiis  Christian  Andersen  was  dead,  and 
would  never  write  fairy  tales  for  them  any  more. 

But  the  prettiest  sight  of  all  is  the  Soldiers'  and  Sail- 
ors' Burial-ground,  which  lies  on  the  slope  of  alow  ridge 
a  little  way  north  of  Copenhagen,  overlooking  the  white 


houses  and  red  roofs  of  the  city,  and  the  bristling  masts  in 
the  harbor,  and  the  bright  blue  waters  of  the  Sound,  and 
the  purple  hills  of  Sweden  beyond  it. 

There  are  no  splendid  monuments  or  long  epitaphs  here ; 
nothing  but  plain  wooden  crosses,  each  marked  with  a 
simple  date  and  the  words  "Fallt  for  Faedrelandet"  (fall- 
en for  his  country).  Most  of  them  bear  the  date  of  "  1864," 
when  poor  little  Denmark  was  crushed  by  Austria  and 
Prussia  tog-ether;  but  011  a  few  of  the  older  ones  you  will 
see  "1801."  This  too  was  a  memorable  year  for  Den- 
mark, and  one  of  the  stories  connected  with  it  is  the  story 
of  the  boy  who  fought  against  Nelson. 

It  is  a  tine  morning  in  April.  1801,  and  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing brilliantly  over  Copenhagen.  But  his  brightest  rays 
can  not  pierce  the  thick  clouds  of  rolling-  white  smoke 
that  drift  upward,  hot  and  stifling,  from  the  batteries 
along  tin1  Danish  shore,  and  the  scores  of  stately  ships  on 
the  smooth  waters  beyond,  the  thunder  of  whose  cannon 
brings  an  answering  echo  from  every  hollow  among-  the 
Swedish  hills.  Vice-Admiral  Horatio  Nelson,  the  terror 
of  France  and  Spain,  has  come  with  an  English  Heel  io 
punish  Denmark  for  allying  herself  with  England's  mor- 
tal enemy.  Napoleon  :  and  this  day  it  shall  be  seen  how 
Danish  men  can  fight  under  the  eyes  of  their  own  people, 
with  the  Prince  of  Denmark  himself  lo  lead  them  on. 

For  more  than  three  hours  the  battle  has  raged,  and  it 
is  still  as  hotly  contested  as  ever.  Thick  as  a  November 
I'OL:  lies  the  hot  sulphurous  smoke,  through  which  a  Merer 
red  Hash  breaks  ever  and  anon  like  lightning  playing  in 
a  cloud.  Unseen  ships  exchange  volleys  with  unseen  bat- 
teries. Stone  walls  crumble  and  masts  fall  as  if  by  magic, 
and  death  comes  blindly,  no  man  knows  whence  or  how. 

All  along  the  harbor  wall,  despite  the  Hying  shot  thai 
plum])  into  the  water  at  their  feet,  or  dash  fragments  from 
the  parapets  around  them,  are  gathered  crowds  of  pale 
faces  and  trembling  figures — old  men  hardly  able  to  crawl, 
weeping  women,  young  girls  clasping  their  hands  lighter 
at  every  fresh  burst  of  cannon-thunder,  and  round  faced 
children  gazing  with  wide  wondering  e\  es  at  the  madden- 
ing uproar  around  them.  In  all  that  great  throng-  there  is 
not  one  who  has  not  a  son,  a  brother,  a  husband,  or  a  near 
friend  in  the  heart  of  that  rolling  smoke,  behind  which 
Death  is  so  busy;  and  well  may  they  shrink  and  tremble 
as  the  gradual  slackening  of  the  Danish  lire  at  length  be- 
gins to  tell  that  the  day  is  going  against  Denmark. 

Suddenly  there  issues  from  the  thickest  smoke,  cast  up 
by  the  tide  at  the  very  feet  of  those  in  the  Tre-Kroner 
(Three  Crowns)  Battery,  amass  of  Moating  spars  and  cling- 
ing men,  foremost  among  whom  is  a  bright-eyed  lad  in 
the  uniform  of  a  Danish  midshipman. 

"  "Who  are  you?"  asks  a  tall,  fine-looking  man  in  a  rich- 
ly embroidered  suit  of  navy  blue,  for  whom  every  one 
makes  way  respectfully. 

"Oscar  Villimves,  midshipman  of  the  j>mi>i<'lir<>i/.  your 
Royal  Highness,"  answers  the  boy,  raising  his  hand  Io  his 
wet.  powder-grimed  forehead  in  salute;  for  this  tall  man 
is  the  Crown  Prince  of  Denmark  himself.  "  We  fought 
the  Admiral's  flag-ship  till  there  were  only  a  dozen  of  us 
left  ;  and  then,  as  we  didn't  choose  to  surrender  to  the  Eng- 
lishmen, we  jumped  overboard  and  iloated  ashore  upon 
these  spars." 

The  Prince's  brow  darkens,  for  the  Dannebrog  has  been 
one  of  his  finest  ships.  But  before  he  can  speak  Villimves 
turns  to  those  around  him. 

"Lads,  who'll  help  me  to  make  a  raft?  We'll  show 
these  English  that  a  Dane's  not  beaten  just  because  his 
ship  has  been  sunk." 

Fifty  willing  hands  were  instantly  at  work.  The  young 
midshipman  gives  his  orders  as  coolly  and  clearly  as  the 
oldest  captain  alioal.  and  in  a  wonderfully  -,lmrt  time  a 
strong  frame-work  of  beams  and  spars,  with  planks  li.xcd 
crosswise  upon  them,  lies  all  ready  on  the  water. 


A  PHIL  ::.  1383. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


347 


"Anil  now  a  couple  of  guns."  cries  Yilliniv.-s,  "ami 
away  \\c  go!" 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do,  my  lad  .'"  asks  the 
ama/.ed  Prince. 

"  <  o-t  alo.i_:-ide  the  Knglish  flag-ship,  and  at  her  again. 
Her  L:IIIIS  can't  ivarli  so  1"W.  ;ind  she'll  soon  see  u  hat  <m.r 
guns  can  iln.  " 

And  tin-  raft.  ini]>i-llcil  liy  as  many  men  as  c-an  safely 
crowd  themselves  upon  her.  glides  straight  toward  the 
hii'je  tin- lecker  that  bears  the  (lag  of  Admiral  Nelson. 

KOI-  this  little  patch  of  II  oat  ing  logs  to  assail  I  he  mighty 

'[ '-battle   ship   seems  as  aliMird   as  fur  a   lly   to   attack 

.-in  elephant:   but  it    -oon   appears  that   Villimvcs  is  right. 

I  .\  iug  right  underneath  the  guns,  and  safe  from  their  shot. 

'i'-kly    makes   himself   felt.       Splinters   lly    like   snow 

from  the  stern  of  the  1  ','rfuri/.  and  men  fall  right  and  left 

the      Kirj-ll-.il     ea  u     even      tell     U  hence    the     mischief 

com.  s.       Hut  at   last  an  ollicer  looks  over  the  side,  and  sees 

\\  ilh  ama/.enient  that  the  cause  of  all  this  !.  a  small 

raft  commanded  i>\   a  bo\ 

Gel  away,  you  young  fool!"  cries  he;  "you'll  be  > hot 

if  \  on  don't." 

"  I'll  lie  shot  if  1  i/o."  replied  Villimves.  laughing. 

"  Well,  if  \oii  //•///  have  it,  \oii  mii^t,"  said  the  oilier, 
in  a  lone  of  grtill'  admiration.  "Marines,  jump  up  here, 
and  gi\  e  these  fellou  s  a  d.  IS6 

And  now  it  begins  to  go  hard  with  lie-  poor  little  raft, 
for  although  the  cannon  can  not  reach  her.  the  n 

of  the  marines  deal  death  al  everj  pollej  I'm  as  each 
Dane  falls  another  takes  his  place,  and  the  fire  never  slack- 
ens for  a  moment  Yillimves.  Ins  clothes  torn  u  ith  shot, 
his  blood  flowing  from  more  than  one  wound,  his  men  ly 
ing  dead  01-  wounded  all  around  him.  lights  stubbornly 
on  until  only  live  of  his  cr&V 

Suddenly  there  comes  a  lull  in  the  I  i  ring,  and  presently 
it  ceases  altogether.  Th  'ii  thi-re  looks  over  the  stern  of 
In  I  Iril  ish  Hag  ship  a  pale.  «  orn  face  iat  sight  of  which  all 
the-  F.nglish  sailors  take  oil'  their  caps  respect  fn  1 1  \  I,  and 
Villimves  hears  a  clear,  sharp  voice  saj  nej  I"  him  : 

"  \\"ell  done,  my  bo\  ,  You  can  leave  your  post  now. 
for  the  order  has  been  given  to  cease  tiring.  <  'oim-  c,ii 
board  and  dine  uith  us;  we'll  all  be  proud  to  have  you, 
for  you're  I  he  best  man  we've  fought  to-d 

The  young  hero's  bo\  ish  face  Hushes  proudly,  as  well 
il  niiulit.  for  he  \\  ho  praises  him  thus  is  no  other  than 
Admiral  Nelson  himself. 

Tiie  morning  after  the  battle  there  was  a  great  Bather 
ing  of  Knglish  and  Danish  ollicers  at  the  Kind's  palace  in 
Copenhagen.  There  were  many  splendid  uniforms  there, 
and  many  line  looking  men:  but  the  object  upon  which 
all  eyes  were  li\ed  u  as  a  small,  slight,  pa  le  faced  man  with 
one  eye.  and  his  empty  right  sleeve  pinned  t"  his  breast. 
The  Danes  who  had  seen  him  before  houed  to  him  with 
the  utmost  reverence;  but  those  who  had  not.  found  it 
hard  to  believe  that  this  little  maimed  sickly  lie-lire  could 
really  be  I  he  terrible-  Nelson  who  had  deMro\  ed  I  heir  finest 
fleet  at  one  blow. 

"  Your  lordship  has  fairly  won  the  day."  said  King 
Frederick,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  Knglish  Admiral; 
"but  1  trust  you  will  give  us  Danes  the  credit  of  having 
dune  our  best  to  beat  you." 

"  Your  Majesty's  sailors  have  done  all  that  the  bravest 
men  could  do."  answered  Xelson,  heartily.  "The  French 
light  well,  but  they  could  not  have  borne  for  one  hour  the 
lire  which  your  brave  fellows  bore  without  flinching  for 
nearly  live.  1  have  been  in  a  hundred  and  five  battles, 
but  this  last  was  the  hardest  of  all." 

Hen-  the  Admiral  Mopped  suddenly,  cast  a  keen  glance 
into  the  crowd,  and  then  sprang  forward  and  sei/.ed  by 
the  hand  a  young  Danish  midshipman — no  other,  in  fact, 
than  our  friend  Villimves. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  again,  my  brave  boy;  you're  an  hon- 


or to  your  Hag.      Your  Majesty,  if  /  were  iu  your  place, 
I'd  make  this  young  fellow  an  admiral  on  the  spot." 

"My  lord,"  replied  Frederick,  bowing,  with  a  glow  of 
pleasure  on  his  handsome  face,  "if  1  were  to  make  all  my 
brave  ollicers  admirals.  I  should  not  have  a  single  captain 
or  lieutenant  i \  ser\  ice 

But  although  the  King  did  not  make  Yillimves  an  ad- 
miral, he  made  him  a  lieutenant  thai  very  day;  and  in 
after  years  the  young  middy  became  one  of  the  foremost 
men  in  the  whole  Danish  navy. 


DOROTHY,  THK  KisilKl;  c;lRL. 

FAR  a\\a\   on  the  northern  coast   of  Scotland  there  is  a 
little-    fishing    village    where    the    simple    people   spend 
'   ipiiet  lives.       The  -iris  are  hardy  and  brave,  and  work 
8      -teadily    as   the    boys.       When    the    boats  come    in    \\ilh 
their  store  of    lish    the   women    are   on    Ihe    beach    lo   meet 
them,  and  I  hey  help  in  ban  ling  t  he  boats  to  land,  and  then 
can-\   the  baskets  witli  their  glittering  freight  to  the  carts 
which  are  uaiting  lo  receive  them. 

Dorothy  was  a  brown  -  cheeked  lass,  with  nothing  to 
distiniruish  her  from  her  companions. 

One  evening  last  summer  CT  erj  boat  in  Dorothy's  ham 

let  had  gone  to  sea.  Not  a  mall  was  left  in  the  settlement 
except  three  very  inlirm  and  aged  lishermen,  long  past 
work. 

In  the  nijht  there  came  a  southerly  gale  with  a  south- 
i  rl\  sea.  and  the  boats  could  not  return.  They  found  a 
harbor  in  a  \  illage  about  eighteen  miles  to  the  north. 

The  sea  grew  blacker  and  blacker.  (ireat  clouds  of 
foam  flew  1"  lore  i  i;:-  wind,  dashed  against  the  houses,  and 
skimmed  away  into  the  distant  lields.  The  sound  of  the 
wind  was  like  the  low  rolling  of  lire  arms,  and  the  uaves 

as  they  broke  among  the  rocks  seemed  to  shake  the  ground. 

When  the  tempest  was  at  its  \\orst  a  little  schooner  was 
seen  coming  around  the  point,  and  unfortunately  hugging 
the  rocks.  To  the  horror  of  the  breathless  watchers  in  the 

village  she  presently  struck.  1  ler  crew  wen-  seen  clinging 
to  the  rigg 

Then-  was  no  chance  of  getting  a  boat  to  her,  and  the 
helpless  villagers  slood  on  the  shore,  expecting  lo  see  her 

•  to  pieces,  and  the  men  drown  lie  fore  I  heir  eyes. 

"  Will  she  last  for  an  hour;'  cried  Dorothy.  "If  I 
thocht  she  would  bing  then1,  I'd  be  away  for  the  life-boat." 

"  Yon  can  never  cross  the  burn. "said  the;  old  men. 

l-'our  miles  south  there  was  a  village  where  a  life-boat 
was  kept.  Half  way  there  was  a  stream,  usually  shallow, 
which  ran  into  the  sea.  and  over  which  was  a  rude  plank 

bridge. 

"  I'll  away  !"  said  Dorothy.  Over  the  moor  she  ran  for 
a  mile  in  the  teeth  of  the  storm.  The  second  mile  was 
still  harder,  for  >he  had  to  splash  through  the  foam,  and 
the  ure.it  waves  might  have  dragged  her  off  her  feet.- 

At  the  mouth  of  the  burn,  or  stream,  her  brave  heart 
failed  for  a  moment.  There  was  no  guessing  at  its  depth 
as  it  rushed  along,  swollen  and  angry.  In  she  plunged, 
the  water  up  to  her  waist,  and  once  she  stumbled  in  a  hole 
and  fell,  but  struggled  to  her  feet  again. 

Then  the  water  grew  deeper.  Stretching  out  her  arms, 
Dorothy  battled  with  the  current,  and,  half  wading,  half 
swimming,  she  reached  the  hard  ground. 

Wet  to  the  neck,  and  her  hair  dripping,  she  fought  her 
way  on  till  she  reached  the  house  where  the  cockswain  of 
the  life-boat  lived. 

" The  schooner !    On  the  Letch!    Norrad  !"  she  gasped. 

"Here,  wife,  look  after  tbe  lass," cried  the  man,  as  he 
ran  for  his  boat.  Poor  brave  Dorothy !  Her  part  of  the 
work  done,  she  had  fainted.  But  the  life-boat  went  north- 
ward round  the  point,  reached  the  schooner  in  time,  and 
saved  all  on  board,  except  the  Captain,  who  had  been 
washed  away. 


348 


IIAKI'KU'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


VnU'MK   IV. 


on:  -I  >NVKI;T. 

I'.Y    .1  IMMY   IIKOWN. 


ri"MIKI!K    is   one   good    thing  about    Sue,  if  she  is  a   girl: 

L    she   is   real   charitable,  and  is  all  tin-   :  ting  ] 

pie   lo   give   money   lo   missionaries  and  things.       She  col 
led,  ,1    mornahundred   dollars   from    ever-  so  ople 

last    \ear.  and    sent    it    to  a    sociel\  .  and   her  name  was   in 

all  tin-  papers  as  "Miss  Susan  llrown."  tin-  young  lady  or  four  inches  long  without  a  single  note,  and  \mi  can't 
that  gave  a  hundred  dollars  to  a  noble  cause  and  may  lei]  me  that  was  right.  But  I  sometimes  think  then-  is 
other-  i"  . i  ud  do  likewise.  QO  use  m  ir\mg  to  help  people  as  1  tried  lo  help  our 

About  a  month  a-'o  she  be-an  ip  a  concert  for  a     brass  band.      People  are  never  grateful,  and  they  alwa\s 


am!  when  I  heard  them  coming  I  sat  up  as  (|iiiet  as  |.. 
hie.  and    never  said   anything  about    what    I   hail  done,  he- 
cause    \ve    never    should    praise    oiiis-elves    nr    seem    to    he 
proud  of  our  own  work. 

Now  1  solemnly  say  tliat  1  never  meant  In  do  any 
harm.  All  1  meant  to  do  was  to  improve  the  music  thai 
the  man  who  wrote  it  had  been  too  lazy  to  finish.  \Vli  \ , 

in    some    of    tllOSC    pieces   of  music  there    \\ere    places   thl 


noble  object.       I   I'orjei   what  tin-  object   was.  for  Sue  didn't  manage  to  blame  a  boy,  no  matter  how  good  he  is.      I  shall 

make  u)i  her  mind  about  it  until  a  day  or  tun  before  the  try.  however,  not  to  give  way  to  these  feelings,  but  to  keep 

concert:  but  whatever  it  was,  il  didn't  gel  much  money.  on  doing  right  no  matter  what  happens. 

Sue  was  to  siiiir  ill  the  concert,  and  Mr.  Travers  w  as  to          The   .  nt  we  had  the  concert,  or  at   any  rale  \\  e 

sin:j-.  and   father  \\as  lo   read   something,  and  the  Sunday  tried  to   have  it.      The  Town-hall  was   full  of   people,  and 

M-l I  was  to  siiiLT.  and  I  he  brass  band  s\  as  to  play  lols  of  Sue  said  it  did  seem  hard  that  so  much  money  as  I  he  pen 

things.       Mr.  Travers  uas  real  -ood  about   il.  and  attended  pie  had  paid  to  come  to  the  coiirerl   should  all  have  |. 

to  engaging  the  brass  hand,  and  getting  the  tickets  printed,  to  charity  when  she  really  needed  a  ne\\   -.al  skm  coat. 


We  \e   got   a    lir-t   rate   band.       You   just    ought    to 


The  performance  v,as  t,,  be-in  w  ilh  a  sonir  l>\  Sue.  and  Ibe 

band  was  to  play   just   like 
a  piano  while  she  was  sin- 
ing.    Thesom_r  wasall  ahonl 
beil;.  !\     and     long- 

ing a 

was    sim_ring    il     like    an\ 
thing,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
tin-  man  with  the  In-  drum 
hit   it   a    most    a\\  fill    b. 
and    nearlx    friirhi 
crybody  lo  deal  h. 

People  lau-lied  out  loud, 
and    Sue    could     hai-dl;. 
on  «  ilh   i  Bui   she 

a    fresh    starl.  ami 
2      |'l'  It  \      u  ell     till     I  he 

big  di'iim  broke  mil  .-iLrain, 
and     I  he     man      hamn  <  i '  d 
away    at     it    till    Ihe    leader 
went    and    look    Ins   .1 
stick  om  mm.     The 

people  jus|  how  led  and  \  ell 
ed.  and   Sue   burst   out   crj 
ing  and  went    ri-ht   oil'  tin- 
stage   and    lon-ed    lo   die    in 

real  • 

When  thin-s  'j,,\  a  liltle 
bit  ipii.  i  and  t  he  man  who 
plav  ed  I  he  drum  had  made 
it  uji  with  the  leader,  the 

baixl     be-all     lo     pi 

thin-   on    it-  o\\  n   account. 

it  once.      I'm  -'oinir  to  join   it    some  day.  and  play  on  the  It  began  all  right,  but  it  didn't  finish  the  wav  il  u  as  m< 

di-nin;  ibai  is.  if  they  don't   I  ind  out  about  the  mistake  I  to  finish.    First  one  player  and  then  another  would  bL 

made  \\  itb  the  music.  loud  note  in  the  wrong  place,  and  the  leader  would  hammer 

When  Mr.  Travers  \\ent  to  see  the  leader  of  -the  band  on  his  music-stand,  and  the  peonje  would  laugh  themselves 

to  setlle  v  !,ai    inn  10  he  played  at  the  concert  he  'most  sick.      After  a  while  the  band  came  to  a  place  w  lien- 

let   me  -o    •.  iih  him.      The  man  was  awfully  polite,  ami  the  trombones  seemed  to  get  crazy,  and  the   leader 

he  showed  Mr.  Tra\ers  -  rent  stacks  of  music  for  him  to  jumped  up  and  knocked  the  trombone-player  down  with 


RE    VA  VS     ill!       -,'>'•  i  i   I  i  s|-    |  h.llT    YOU    EVEK    SAW." 


select  from.  After  a  while  he  proposed  to  go  and  see  a 
man  soinewlieres  who  played  in  the  band,  and  they  left 
me  to  wait  until  they  came  back. 

I  bad  nothinir  to  do,  so  I  looked  at  the  music.  The 
notes  wen-  all  made  \\iih  a  pen  and  ink,  and  pretty  bad 
they  were.  1  should  have  been  ashamed  if  I  had  made 
them  .lust  to  prove  that  I  could  have  done  it  better 
than  the  man  who  did  do  it.  I  took  a  pen  and  ink  and 
tried  it.  I  made  beautiful  notes,  and  as  a  great  many  of 
tin-  pieci  -  of  music  weren't  half  full  of  notes,  I  just  filled 
in  I  In-  places  v,  n'  •  ren't  an >  noli  i.  I  don't 

know    how-    lo  <  .1  nil    the    l>  i  he  hand 

wei  nut    I    was   so   busy  thai    I    did    nol    miss   them. 


a  big  horn  that  he  snatched  from  another  man.  Then 
somebody  hit  the  leader  with  a  cornet  and  ku..e|.,d  him 
into  the  big  drum,  and  there  was  the  awl'ulesl  light  you 
ever  saw  till  somebody  turned  out  the  gas. 

There  wasn't  any  more  concert  that  night,  and  tin  i ••  o 
pie  all  got  their  money  back,  and  now  Mr  Travi  i  ami 
the  leader  of  the  band  ha\  e  oll'ered  a  reward  l'or"lhi-  pel- 
son  who  maliciously  altered  the  music"  that's  w  hat  the 
noli,  '  i  I  wasn't  malicious,  and  I  do  hope  no- 

body will  find  out  I  did  it,  though  I  mean  to  lell  father 
aboul  ii  as  -non  as  h<  er  bavin--  his  nose  pn-iiy 

ii  the  iromhone- 
i  man  w  ilh  the  l-Yench  horn. 


APRII 


HAl;  ynrx<;   PEOPLE. 


349 


'I UK     N"|;TII     \\  IN!'     I"  .'I'll     l:l.o\V 

To    JOSIl 


*    i:    MM  l,s. 


Tli.    h..rtl.    I 


- 


•        •  •>        > 

Ami  "lint  will  |»«  r  I;..  I.  in     iln     I!M  M.  |">..r    tiling'.'   II.  'II 

r  >      > 


• 


» 


.    ,    -     •    • 


rn.   An. I    t.i       U..|.|I;IM    >.!l"   wimn      \\ill         hide    his  hr:nl  mi       clrr    Ms     M'IIIL'.    | r    tliin-j  ! 


- 
'          -r  '   . 


- 


350 


HAEPER'S  VorXG  PEOPLE. 


Y"U"ME  IV. 


ri'IIE  Postmistress  thanks  the  writer  of  the  let- 

-l    ter  whieh  follows,  not  only  for  liis  kind  ref- 

to  her-elt.  IHII  lor  his  appreciation  of  the 

little   correspondents   Whose   lllH    pens   make  tills 

department  oi  'i  OCM;  PEOPLE  so  intcrc-i 
[Mt]iul;ir.      K\"i-ry    week    their  letters.   imTr\    i.r 
thoughtful,  as  may  hi1,  help  to  give  us  glimpses 
of  child-life  all  over  our  happy  roiintry.     Some- 
tinn--  \vc   have    letters   from   young  Americans 
abroad,  and  ocea-ionalh  the  boys  ami  girls  of 
other  lands  send  us  pleasant  messages.    I 
mothers. anil  teachei  -  :  r  <r"  ntly  show  tin 
lidenee  in  ^  OUKa   Pi.oi'i  i.  ami  Ilirir  approval  of 
its  aims  by  writing  to  tin-  I'o-l  office  I'"'X.     Pa- 
li  r  i-  I  he  repre-etilative  of  number-  w  hose  prai-e 
is  well  worth  having,  and  give-  us  real  <  nconr 

agenicllt   : 

NKW  Vor.K  CITV. 

Will  tho  Postmistress  of  llAiu'n:'-  Voi  M.  I 


could  bo  done  in  aliv  oil  n  i   waj   i"  make  an  wno 

now   look   on   yon   as   their  trielnl   g I.  whole- 

BOme     I  ffi      '        .   \  '  '  1 1 1  u'  \\ 1 1  a  !  1 1 1  M  i  e  n 

Your  work.  then,  aside   tr.nn   the  interest  ami 
alliuseineiit   it  allords.  is  educating  a  generation 

and  acting  as  an  antidote  to  tbe  less  healthy  tone 

of    soejety    ill    our     larger    filler.       \V  i  I  h     In. 


OI     soe  lei  .\     ill    ino      la  1  u '   I      .MI.-         t.  e  1 1 

wish,  -.  I  remain,  very  gratefully  yours 


PATEK. 


AYOXDALB,  I 

Yon  say  you  want  somebody  who  make-  pels 
of  chickens  to  write  you.    I  have  the  rarest  kind 

of  a  pel  ehieken  l  Ilie  day  we  saw  him  stall- Hair 
on  tile  lawn,  hungry  and  wet,  ab''iil  a-  l.ig  a-  a 
|iartrid_-e,  a  lost  eliiekeli.  and  we  took  him  ill. 
lie  is  now  a  go  at  Shanghai  rooster  about  two 

1      A-  In   grew  larger  I, is  bill  grew 
6d,  :in  I   he  ean  only  eat  corn  wrapped  in  dough. 

He  lived  in  the  kitchen,  and  Mary  the  rook  ealled 
him  I'iny,  because  he  was  so  small  Ue  Is  a  great 

bo--  m  iw .  a  in  I  M  a  Ik-  a  r'  Hind  in  a  very  lordly  way. 
When  lie  \\anl-  to  get   into  the  house  he 
at  the  door  with  his  -real  big  fool 

I  ha\e  other  chickens  that  are  pets,  and  I  have 

a  dug  ami  iwo  pel  pigs.  They  are  the  jollies! 
pels  I  ever  had. 

I  have  ivan  Voi  NO  Pi  01  BOB  for  three 

i  '        en  3  ears  old.  and  g"  i..  a  title 

].  and  love  to  -tudy.  GOT  8 


-  ,l  '-'.     BY,    Ml--"  'lr«lrm». 

I  like  to  read  tho  letters  in  tin  Post-office  I'.ox. 
I  am  ten  \ears  ,,ld.  ami  1  have  a  sj-ter  wlio  is 
t  U'elve  We  both  like  to  read.  For  pets  \ve  have 

a  eat  and  two  birds    one  named  Bonbon,  and  ihe 

<ither  Pee  1 1.     \\  e  have  a  horse  named  I'.i  --ie.and 

a  llo/.ell  hens.  \\  hen  I  lleV  We  1C  eliirl.p-l  -  \\  e  pet- 
ted them  su  maeh  that  they  h<  .-  on.  qu  te  lame 

in f  them,  named  Nigger,  ho  "Uhh-r, 

and  lets  me  take  him  up  in  my  arms     Om  of  the 

hens  laid  all   egg  in  the   horse's  erih.      Our  cat's 

•nani"  i-  'l'abb\  sue  like-  t"  play  with  hens, and 
often  goes  to  sleep  in  the  hens'  nests. 

\l  m  nne  hen- at  Salisbury  is  only  u  mile  and  a 
lialf  fr.  mi  tin-  re-i  lenee  of  John  (i.  Whittier  ill 

Ame-burv.  and  only  half  a  mile  from  that  of  Mrs. 

MM;  ni  Presi  "it  N. o. lord.  LIZZIE  M.  W. 

r  was  once  the  possessor  of  a  dozen  chickens 
•which  were  as  irreat  pets  as  yours  are,  Lizzie. 
One  of  there  a  ravi  creature,  in  a  sober  brown 

suit,  we  called  My  Lady  Water  proof ,  because  she 

stalked  about  like  a  lady  in  a  water-proof  cloak. 
Another  was  Mis-  lletsey.  ami  another  still  was 
named  bj  mie  of  my  children  after  a  fidgety  but 
kind  hearted  friend  <  if  I  in  lamily.  and  always  an- 
swered to  the  name  Mrs, .  I  did  not  approve 

i,t   tin-  at   all.  and  when  the  true  Mrs. hap- 

!  to  visit  us,  great  was  my  terror  lest  she 
should  happen  to  haxc  her  funny  namesake  pre- 
to  her,  whieh  would  have   been  a  great 
mired  Mrs. to  I.inlc  Dumpling. 


PKNFIF.I n.  TRVVVLVA^IA. 

We  have  all  the  numbers  of  YOIM,   PEOPLE, 

mid  like  the  papiT  MTV  milch  indeed  I  hail  a 
<  lear  pet  lien  that  was  almost  eight  years  Old  I 
began  to  make  a  pet  of  her  when  I  was  about 
twenty  months  old.  ami  then  I  called  her  by  the 

-lie  made  when  singing,  and  that  name 
gradually  changed  to  Wa>  a  she  was  a  speckled 

.iii'.l  white  Il'Hid.in,  and  su  miilll  d 


the  face  that  mamma  had  to  clip  tin-  feathers  so 

I        She  w  a  -  i'l'et  I  y 

and  happ\  '     she  \s  >  >f, In  sing  w  Idle  1  ink   In  r  in 

my  arms.'  She  used  to  coax  the  other  hens' little 
chickens  away  from  them,  and  scratch  for  them, 

and    \\  "  1 1 1 '  1    b  1 1  \  i  r  1 1 1  e  m    if  they    \\  .•  1 1 1 '  i    ll 
\\hen    \\  t     moved   Iroin    Weed\  ille.  Klk    <'ouiit>. 

uht  In  r  too.    She  choked  t.>  death 
corn  about  a  month  ago.  and  1  feel  a-  u   I  Ci  n 

lle\  er  tilnl  anOl  I  el1  hell  so  Iliee.       \\  e  111,1'  le  a   pret 

:\    r'tllin   and    buried   her.     Mamma    writes  this 
I'm-  mi  Komi     I  i     \ 

p-     Eddie  says  don't  tell  you  he  vrled      rhere 

was   •!•   than   one   sorrow  ml    heart    whin    w< 

i  "Id  \\aya.  EDDIK'-  MAMMA. 

:  Kddie,  it  was  no  womhr  you  cried.  I 
would  ha\e  cried  with  you  if  I  had  loved  the 
gentle  hen  as  you  did. 


M  *rai:TT».  Pf  SSM  I  v  *M*. 

I  won't  tell  you  how  old  I  am.  hut  will  s 
I    \va-    born   on    the   Cslh    m'   September. 

:    II  u:ri  l:'s   \  m  M,    Pi  01 
ml  look  anxiously  for  every  number 
When  I  am  si'  k   I  pa--  many  weary  llout- 
ing  it,  and  the  cuts  on  tin  ilway-  make 

_h  heartily. 

I  ha\e  b,ar  brothers  and  t\\o  dug-  a  N'ew- 
fi  nliidlaml  and  a  ten  ii  r  The  biir  d"L'  I  call  Poll- 
t  '.and  the  little  one  Tip.  Polito  is  trained  to 
draw  a  -mall  wagon,  and  will  pull  me  am  place 

that  I  desire,  lie  m  ler  L"  t-  balky  Some  time 
ago  1  had  lots  of  fun  racing  with  my  !  i  ii  nil  liar 
r\  P.  .  who  ha-  a  uoat.  I  know  my  hi-'  >t  In  i  -  II 
ami  II  would  lik'c  to  i!i  !nit  they  un- 

afraid that  the  gul  -  would  m  il  think  that  manly. 
They  ride  horseback  on  '  •  and  Prince. 

.  pge  threw  ii  irn  off,  i MII  no  bonea  were 

liroken      1   go  to  sei 1  .\ii-y  day  when  I  am 

well,  and  would  like  to  tell  you  what  I  stml\.  but 
my  letter  is  getting  Loo  Imig.  t.i 

CiEOlU.I.    II 

i        arc  studying  penmanship  to  aiha 
You   write  a  hand  whien  is  a  credit   to  \oiir-clf 
and  your  teachi  rs.  ami  a  great  pleasure  to  read. 


II  11  '-1ANA. 

The  \\raihir  hi  re  i-  v,  irm  and  pleasant,  and 
we  ha\e  \iolels  and  ruses  jn  b],,om.  1  have  a 
little  garden  with  lettuce,  onions,  radishes,  and 
llower-  in  it  I  worked  in  the  garden  to-day,  and 
Aunt  Mary  bought  us  a  little  express  wagon  to 
>  phus. 

I  nk-  much, anddlmmy Brown.  Jim- 
mv's  papa  inu.-t  get  liu  d  of  taking  him  upstairs. 
I  li>  AitTiii'it  B. 


Let  me  describe  a  Friday  in  my  school-room ; 
and  when  you  have  read  my  letter,  then,  chil- 
dren, tell  me  what  makes  it  such  a  happy  place 
on  that  day.  I  think  I  shall  hear  you  say,  "Our 
paper  —  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE."  I  fear  you 
will  not  see  the  first  cause,  for  children  too  'oft- 
en grasp  only  the  outward  appearance,  overlook- 
ing the  inward  principles  which  lead  to  outward 
happiness:  so  I  will  tell  you  my  rule  to  encour- 
age obedience  and  diligence  'it  is  this:  when 
lessons  have  been  fait  h  fully  -t  udied  and  deport 
ment  fine  during  the  week.  HARPBR'S  VM  M.  Pin 
PLB  visits  the  school-room  in  a  manner  which 
I  will  now  dc-' 

Ding-dong!  ding  dung'  sound-  onr  great    enl 

lege    bell.      We  go   '  P  order 

prcvai ,  it  here  and  there 

observer  mi.  •  nudge  from  I'.ill  In  Tom, 

and  from  Tom  t'     iiiek       U  i    then  go  ! ir  -e\ 

eral  rooms 
1  enter  mine.  Faces  arc  beaming  as  I  pass  down 


Ot>ii.i..  b  i  is. .i«. 

I  r,  .1,1  "  liaising  the  '  Pearl' "  in  the  last  paper. 

When  my  father  was  in  Tampa.  I'Morida,  he  went 

to  see  Captain  Sami       B      ett,  for  he  is  a  real 

lined  in  I  he -lory,  very  cross, 

ami  with  only  one  leg      He  owns  a  great,  many 

\\  hen  i,apa  a-ke,l   lor  some  oysters  he 

you  going  to  put  them?" 

Papa  said,  "  In  m\    mouth." 

'  he  said.  "Do  you  want  some  crackers  with 

them  ':" 

••  •]  ,•-_••  was  tin  answer 

So  he  i  my  tathen  went  in  and  got  some  oysters, 
,  M  a  in  •-ainur,  \\oiildnottakeanypayfor 
them.  ROBERT  A. 

iminy  mn-t  be  polite  and  kind,  not- 
withstanding his  gruff  manner. 


PoRTHMOrTII,  N'EW    HAMralMRI.. 

I  could  write  to  yon  about  many  pets  of  mine, 
but  1,'day  I  feel  rather  dejected,  for  a  sweet  Ht- 
ml'who  has  visited  me  every  week  for  a 
hmg  time, and  whose  vi-it.- have  been  such  a  plea- 
sant anticipation  this  dear  litlle  girl,  whom  I 
love,  will  eoine  no  more.  I  shall  miss  her  very 
much.  I  think  you  know  her  :  her  name  is  Nan. 
Regretfully  yours,  GHAC'E  G. 

I  too  felt,  a  pang  when  Nan  made  her  courtesy. 
We  shall  ha\t!  to  coax  the  author  to  tell  us  more 
about  her  ore  of  these  davs,  unless,  indeed,  she 

!  can  paint  us  another  graceful  girlie  who  shall 

i  steal  into  our  hearts  as  Nan  did. 


to  my  place  of  imp  he  verbs  an'  nicely 

conjugated  in  all  th,  ir  parts,  and  j  l-'iiniuns  de- 
clined neatly  on  the  board  i.\nd  let  me  tell  you 
a  secret :  attack. ti ml  iii •<> 

the  compound  personals  favorite  pronoun-  w  n  h 
me  for  such  exercise  ;   i  do  not   wish  //«, 
people  to  be  saying  attached,  drow  ino  u.  and  h  in- 
self.)    Now  for  the  fun.     [  read  to  them  "Off  the 
Line,"  by  Josephine  Pollard,  and  win  n  I  ,,  .me  to 

"Jim  delighted  in  games  and  ball. 
And  liis  mind  was  not  <  n  his  books  at  all." 

I  can  not  refrain  from  a  glance  at  a  fat  < 

1  think  the  am  hor  w  ,  aild  be 
gratified  to  sec  t  he  reddening  fa,  e  go  dow  n.  ami 
to  hear  the  merry.  snp| n  -->  d  laugh  of  tl  . 

Bright  Thomas  then  goe-  to  the  board,  ami 
writes, 

"On  your  eyes  he  presses  poppies. 

On  your  will  ho  puts  a  brake. "  .  to 
My  class  is  ready  for  a  parsing  match.    l-'at  Dick- 
son  insists  that  yon  are  pn  — ing  on  popi 
stead  of  eyes.    So  girls  ah.  ad      Contrary  Peter, 
out  of  humor,  pretends  he  ean  not  say  the  rule 
for  adverbs.     Ding-dong!  ding  dung!     An  hour 
has  passed  so  nicely!    uirls  ha\e  won;  conse- 
quently excused  from  class  room  tirst.    Hoys  look 
.  at  1  lick-on  and 

Here  enter-  '  No. :{  in  fine  onl, 

son  well  recited.      !  it  lesson  distinctly 

read,  for  this  is  inn  day  t"  read  to  them  What 
do  you  think  I  read  to  them:  "Mr. Thompson 
and  the  Hats"!  I  wish  you  could  see  ll.  --i.  .  l.i/ 
zie,  Hebecca.  Wash,  ami  all  the  bright  faces  ;  and 
when  Mr.  Thompson  treads  on  Mr-  Kodentia's 
tail.  Charlie,  my  new  pupil  from  the  country, 
laughs  so  loud  that  if  our  president  were  not  so 
good  and  wise  he  would  have  "-  before  tl 
ulty  for  disorder.  Hut  we  will  CM 
he  will  soon  learn  how  to  laugh.  Ihngdong! 
ding-dong!  Hecess.  The*  ernwd  around  to  -ee 
the  picture  of  Mr.  Thompsi  m  and  t  he  •  ,t  her  rats. 

I  will  not  trouble  you  with  Ihe  dignified  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  coming  in  to  recite  morn 
difficult  lessons,  hnt  can  (  . le  "  The  sad 

Story  of  a  Boy  King"  for  m)  ''it*''  hi-t"i-\  , 

l)o  not.  dear  young  pei.plc.  h-i   \.ini    par.  nts 

think  we  have  loo  nn  •   D  til n  Friday  :  for  this 

is  my  met  hod.  and  I  have  classic  (English  el 
authority  for  it,  as  1  may  |  ro\e  i»  \,ni  some  day 
by  writing  to  you  of  linger  A -chain".  t;uci  n  Klix.a- 
beth's  tutor,  and  what  he  says  al»  n 

With  love  for  the  young  all  over  the  win  1,1.  ami 
especially  UARI-KU'S  Yoi'xo  PKOPI  i :. 

The  Postmistress  knows,  although  you  do  not, 
in  what  city  of  the  sunny  south  si-ter  I 
assembles  her  cla-  delightful  Friday 

exercises.    She  Is  sure  that  thei  i.aeh 

ers  who  find  YOUNG  PEOPLE  helpful,  and  she  is 
glad  that  the  school-days  of  s,ane  . ,1  \,ni  are 
made  so  bright  and  pleasant,  si-t.r  Florence 
has  contributed  a  charming  letter  to  i  his  number 
of  the  Post-office  Box,  and  we  all  join  in  thanking 
her.  

FORT  V.  T*T«*   IM  *sn. 

I  am  a  little  girl  elevi  '  i      I  like  iho 

story  of  "  Nan"  very  much,  and  .1  iminv  Itrow  n's 
stories.  I  lived  in  Florida  lor  live  years. and  this 
is  the  first  winter  I  have  ,  vorth. 

w   C. 

I  suppose  you  enjoyed  the  winter  sports,  as 
they  were  quite  new  to  you. 

SPAMHII  RIVKII.  OST»HIH. 

I  have  always  lived  in  Bay  City.  Michigan,  until 
this  winter,  when  we  came  up  here,  w  hen  papa 
is  building  a  mill.  I  was  on  snow-shoes  \.  -i.  r 
day  for  the  first  time.  I  went  too  fast,  so  I  fell 
down.  1  think  it  is  fun  to  walk  on  them  There 
are  a  great  many  high  rocks  here,  and  bef 
snow  came  there  was  some  lovely  nn>-- 

The  mail  comes  once  a  week  o'n  sleighs  drawn 
by  dogs.  I  am  always  clad  when  it  comes,  as  it 
brings  me  YOPNII  PEOPLE.  I  would  like  to  be  a 
member  of  the  Little  llotisekccp,  i  -  Sociable  I 
am  twelve  years  old.  Ami:  M 


WKI.I  «\  n  i  K,  NKW  Vur.K. 

My  grandfather  has  taken  Ilviu-in'-  roOHS 
PEOPLE  for  me  since  the  tirst  publication  [ 
think  it  is  the  best  pa  per  for  the  young  folk-  that 
is  published.  I  thin!-  "Old  Times  in  the  i  olo 
nics."  "  The  Truise  of  the  Canoe  <  luh."  ami  "  The 
Talking  Leaves"  are  very  nice  stories,  ami . I  iminy 
Brown's  stories  arc  very  funnv  As  |  hai,  no 
pets.  I  will  tell  you  about  the  oil  tanks  mar  this 
place,  which  are  built  by  the  .standard  nil  i  om 
pany.  The  tanks  are  made  of  plate  in  n  about 
one-third  of  an  inch  thick,  each  plate  being  a  I  unit 
four  feet  wide  and  eight,  or  ten  b,t  |..ng  Tim 
tanks  are  thirty-three  feet  high  and  nim  i\  i,  .  t 
in  diameter,  and  are  each  capable  ,,t  h,  I  ling 
about  thirty-six  thousand  barrels  of  oil 
have  been  a  gnat  many  of  these  tanks  built  ami 
others  are  building.  Three  hundred  men  n  em 

pl.iyed  in  building  them,  and  thiit\  Ihon-and  feet 
of  lumber  arc  used  lor  scaffolding,  etc  .  in  their 
construction.  The  tanks  are  situated  al  what  is 

called    the    Pump   Station,  there   being   two    largo 

IgS,  one  cold. lining  tile   lar.' 
the  other  two  Immense  pumps  for  forcing  the  oil 


APRII 


HARPER'S  FOUNG   PEOPLE. 


351 


II  M    I. 


: 
• 

.  M    \l  Mi. 

1 

• 
• 


- 
- 

- 

- 
1 

N     II 

'• 
1 

-HAWK.  Trr:. 


• 

- 

. 

• 
• 
our  rl.'i 

III  III.- 


milk,  h 

L'.-tle   > 

• 

I   w  r  U  . 

1 

hunili 

M 

onlen-.l  a  \  •  \l  . 

MI     two 

month 

• 

il    il->C 
I  .mil..  >       I 

in  my 

II. -U      II 

ln\  LT  I     M 

in. i  \\  ili  .-> ..  >n  I..    . 


\\   i      t'    .'1H.  I    I  I  If    I    M 
•A  .'  II.  >pe  \\  . 

\\  .    ii  i  '  .    I  .  1 .  .r  tti'-m  1-M-  Mi.-r.'  I  II.-IM 

l!    i-  aim  mil  the 

therm 

eiirllt    ll.-L'l-e'-s    l.l-l     Week          The    frllll 

ill  ID  bloom,  and  the  elm-trees  are  buddlnir. 

anxi.'ii-lv  \\  .11!  inir  fur  III-    : 
May.  fur  we  then  will  have  a  wi  tl  *n      It 

•1   pi, -me   U.-.  k.  I..]    e\er>  l.o.ly  L"..  -   "II    pie 

Hi.  -.  an. I  li.iv  :\  i; I  line        U 

aii.l  ar.   twehe  aii'l  Ihiii. •••!!  \.-ar-  -.1.1 

A  s  >.  \   i .    l     aii.l    I,.  .1  IK   K.  I'. 


'I'-   I.  •  :  li.-   little  i.'it-ls  who  a-k 

nlnmt  eray lish  an-  informed  Iliiit  they  tnil-t  have 
fi.r  these    pets   a    shallow    \.---.l   with    a  slopini: 

bottom  containing  gravel  or  else  <-..ai-M  ar 

sail. I       'I'lir  wat.  r  in   tin-  deepest    part    must   in. I 
'    thl..'    itl.-h.--        l-eed   till-  lish  "11   eho ppi'il 

raw  beef      llemo-,  it  overniijht.     \\"a- 

-       ,     'iil<  may  be  int  ;-i  ..lue.-.l  l.y  way  of  orna- 
ment. 


YOUNG  iToiM.rs  COT. 

HI. tlti. .MX  lT<-i'i\ril  f,.r  ^  OIIIIL'  I'eopl,  '  •  I 
In  Holy  limiiri  nfs  Ward.  -I  Mar\  'S  Free  Hospi- 
tal f..r  riiil.lr.  n  I".  \\  esl  rniirty-!'i.iirili  street  : 

Mr-  ..  c,  Carter.N  "i  .  J5;Florei I'  U'ileox. 

Chelsea,  *i  ;  l-Miili  it.  Jon.  s,  iiaii.-o.-k.  \\ 


.••>  of  the  i  t.i  tin- 

.nth  wax  thin   «.f  litii 

ill.-  li-i 

t  to  II.     So.. II  all.  r  \M  r 

•   Hi.,    w  nli  li.  r  M. 

M  »nly 

Fon  - 

i    ~..nn' 

I  •  it 

'niiii-r  il 
II  ~iu.lv 

Mill 

KATII    i 

i.  h    w,. 

- 

I  |      • 

All 


\\  .  • 


Pno»  ' 

I  !»rl  ii.y-.-lf 

•nir  IT 

'llllr     pill.   II 
- 

all  th.  .'I    I   w..iil,l 

-  thai  .-  I.HI  in  il 
I    I,,  i  . 

I    L"  •   t" 
ki'liool   • 


M.  i 

\V.-  -,n. I  ynii  tliroi-  il..llar-  f..r  Yi.iins  I' 
-.•ini.rv  "f  K. Ina  M  .  i. in-  l 

il".      Tin-  way   I   t;..|    niin.-  wax 
MI  i-lii.-krnx.  an. I  tli.-y  lai.l 

I  -.11.1  ;..n  - "f  n  •• 

am  t.  n  y.-ars  ..1.1.  KM-I  \    I: 

:    .ffrrinir  I.,  t  ..il..|- 

Is  from   my   b  -liii.    K. 

i.l,  nn.  til tv  .-.  nix  is  from  my  si-n-r  <'li.-u: 

in-ilolhir  is  from  nivi  If  :  sav.-il  from 
m\-  p  il  I  hope   Iliat  you  will  havr 

have  the  rtMiuin-il  amount. 
l.i  \  .     . .  •  • 


K»r.i  vn.i  r,  NFW  YORK. 

In. •]..-.-. I  tmil  twenty-five  rent-  for  1 .  .uni.' I'.'.i- 
pl.-'s  c.it  from  Floy  \V.  stom-.  ].ai-t  of  her  I..-nl.-n 
i-arnin^s  >ln-  i-  very  inn.-h  iiil.-r.--lril.  ami  h-  ipea 
some  time  to  visit  toe  hospital.  .  -.TIE. 


Tin  I  '  TTTH. 

I  am  a  little  sir!  peven  yi'ar<  ..1.1.  anil  I  .  .. 
write  well  enomrli  lo  write  this  1, -it. 
mamma  is  wiitinsr  for  me.     I  have  taken  '. 

ever  since   it    ln-uan.  ami    I    lik.-    it   very 

much,  especially  Jimmy  Brown,  and  "Toby  T\ - 

I.T."  an. I  "The  Little  Dolls'  I"  \ii.i 

I  like '•  Nan"  too.     Iiak.          '  ami  <»ir  l.il- 

iny  little  sister  has  Unbi/liii'il.    I  lend 


Ill  l.-n.an.l  she  lends  mn 
1 

-  I    I. a. I  lo 
lh.it  I  I, .id  to 

any  besides      I  had  thirtx  -t  v, 
Then  l  brake  one  oi  pai 

liej    to  pa>    I.T  !  h,it 
Mallll: 

for  li.  r.  and   I  have  one  i  ent   ,-verx    duj    thai    I 
don'l    I  nuts,  and  'one  if  I 

brush  my  teeth  iwie,        lalwax-r.  .) 
nioniin-.  but  I  an  t,t.  and 

-nl       Cut    I   I, axe  saxed   one  dollar. 

•oselliltWo 

but  il  i-  so  l.n.-  to  wail  I  think  1  xxill  -,  , 

n. .w.  and  an  I  -el   it  all       I  w  ill 

-  then  i  .  ii 

1  that  is  pan 
•i  I  like  il  x.  ix   nre  h 

\ 


I    ;       t.   N  ,  n    V.'Uli. 

•  tin. I  ineio--  \  oung  I',  i. 

.  ot,  nhii-li  1  i  nrni  .1  ni>-.-lf. 

ll!     -,      T       Qll 


i  I.-..M  roi  \ \ ri.'ir.c  rm:'- 

-..  nl>  l.oily     '.'   All.,  wan.  -e  in  weight 
.T    1'ainliiii;  ai. 

\n    a--.i|-lm.  nt    of  type.     -.'    one   ol    Hie 
i     -      ..i  lea        I     \  parl  of 
l\l\..    I    II  \KI  I  - 

\  \ouiiL'  w. .n:  in     •_•    \  though!     •':    \  men- 
I     \  pl.iv  ml  animal 

AKIIII  i:   II    TniMian  \\ 


N..    i. 

T\\..     1    V-\      1.  1  Ml 

i     '  \  .......  ectlon,    ( 

\  i.  it.  i 

8.  AVI  8»el      .".   l-i-iiit-     4.  A 

lii  iimlr.  -s|n^.  K  ..... 

KITMBI  :       M  \ 

•  1  1.  -I-,  an.l    am   a    plaee 

i  are  I  .......  I. 

MX    1.  '.    !.  i-  w  lial   we  inil-t  not   lie 
M\    s  |   tl,,.  l,,.,|y. 

M.   •  in,  a-iire 

.....  I  wor-liip 
\l\    I.  ',,  ..  i-  a  li,,cl\  ,.f  v      •  • 
M-.     I    -.'.  8,1  Ul  .1   plaee   I"  -I.-,  p  III. 

_        ANNA   T.  Mi  in. 

N..    I 

mil   -.,..   Mir. 
Quarter  i        -     -          I.  A  tuft 

of  hair.      r.  The  Same.      '.   A  pr.  position      i;    \  I,  t 
t,  r  In-,  .....  • 

ANs\vi-".l:s  Tu  PI  //1,1's  IN  NII.  170. 
'..     1  \     M    I     I)  T    A    I'    K 

MO  \  .  •   K  i: 

I    i:  ..   '.  i     i;    \  i; 

K   I.  ..   s 


NO.  a 


It 

.       \  I! 

i    n  M  i:  T 

R   A    M    1'  A    K   T 

K   i,    \  n  >i 

T   l;  •, 

l 


r    \ 

I'    A    U 

r    \   i;  ii 
P  A  K  D  O 

P  A    l:   li  u   X 

No.  4.  ''A  soft  ansu  .  i     -  m.  ih  away  wrath,  but 

irri.  -\-ous  woi-.ls  stir  up  IIIIL'I  r." 
Atln  n-.  west,  artisan,  fort,  (,'rain.  words, 
huh,  I  ar.  Move,  w  ig,  purr,  way.  it. 

No.  5.  "It'san  ill  wind  that  blows  m.lioih  good." 
11  Fine  feathers  make  line  birds." 


f'orreet.  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
fn  .m  Kilwin  S.  K^ffers.  L.  <J.,  Mamie  I.a  wson.  Iiiek 
Kineli.  Hoyal  T.,  Robin  Dyke.  I.1   I.  A    M  .  I'.loom- 
.  Frank  Cnrtiss. , I.  A.  \Villiums.  I(,,-a    Van 
I'.ertha   Sykes.  Mamie   1).,  Susie    Arthur. 
Mauriee  Hlieinheimer.  Jaeob  Strauss,  l.uln  I',  a-e. 
Ma-i-'ie  Dixon.  Albert,  Parks.  Johnnie  iiiish.  Harry 
<  1'.  K.  Wilkeson,  John  (;,,IH|,-.  l,in\    l.'a\nor. 

Emma  Randolph.  Krn.st  colson,  K.  T.,  Princess, 
Flyaway.  Dame  Playfair.  s  .sinelair,  Thomas  W.  • 
Chaiiihliss.  and  I-annie  Kheinheiluer. 

[For  Exclianges,  see  2d  and  3d  payef  of  cater.] 


352 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


• 


'          -         .- V 


\  i  n;-~r  in-  \ri;n.  .H >KK. 

MICH  rrxxiKii  THAN  SIIK  KNEW. 

AN  A.PRIL-FOOLS'-DAY 

A  now  name  and  a  new  fi 

'I',,  pleasure  and  hapinn'  as  icmi. 

AN1>  so  tin-  following  game  may   pio\e  pi,  asant  ami  enter- 
taining, no1   only   in  I  In-  I  it  lie  I'olK.  lnit  lii  I  heir  rlilcrs.  who 
are  said  In  enjoy  ••  ;i  liil  "I  I -disc  now  and  then." 

'I'hcrc  is  our  peculiarity  about  this  game,  however,  ami  that 

is.  il  i  :in  onh  I"1  play cd  i  ii  i  ic  Mini  MI",  1  lie  >amc  ]iro]i]r.  The  leader 
.announces  himself  :is  a  gardener  \\  1m  is  .-ili'int  l<i  arrange  his  uar 
<len.  He  niusl  nl  necessity  he  some  peisou  who  can  control  his 
features.  The  gardener  stands  at  tin-  door,  liel'orc  he  goes  out, 
1 1  MIL:  enough  lo  in\  ile  I  hose  \\  ho  are  in  the  room  to  come  oni  oi  e 

by    one  as  i|llicUly  as  possible  to  receive  the  IKlllle  ol'some  one  ol' 

ln>  warden  |iroilncts.      Ile  is  very  careful  to  impress  ii|.on  all  the 

necessity    of  keeping  secret    the   n  nines  \\  hie]  I    I  hey  li;i\  e  rccci\  ill. 

«>f  course  they  :ill  think  that  sonic  new  mystery  is  to  he  iin- 
lohlecl  :  lull,  without  any  one's  know  ledge,  all  arc  given  the 

name  of  the  same  \ egetable. 

For  instance,  as  each  one  goes  out   to  rccche  his  name   from 


Any  bird  alighting  to  drink  near  one  of  these  turtles  has  a 
good  chance  of  Inning  its  head  hitten  oil'  and  ealen:  and  Ihe 

headless   hollies  of  pigeons  have    hcell    picked   ll|i  near  the   water, 

.showing  the  talc  w  Inch  has  sometimes  In-fallen  the  tiirds.  The 
pigeons,  however,  are  a\\  an-  of  t  he  ilangrr,  and  have  hit  on  tlio 
Ibllowing  plan  to  escape  it  : 

A  pigeon  comes  iii  from  its  Ion;;  lliglit.  :nnl  aa  it  nears  the 
tank  will  cross  it  at  ahoul  t\\eiit\  t'ect  aho\c  its  surface,  a  ml 
i  hen  tl\  hack  to  I  :M-  Mile  from  \\  hich  it  came,  as  if  to  select  a  safe 
spot  \\hieh  it  had  remarked  as  it  llc\\  o\cr  ihe  hank.  1'mt  e\en 
I  hen  the  liinl  \\  ill  not  alight  at  the  edge  of  I  he  water,  lint  on  the 
hank  about  a  yard  from  it.  and  will  then  run  down,  take  two 
or  three  hurried  gulps,  and  lly  off  to  repeat  the  same  process  al 
anolln-r  part  of  the  lank,  until  its  thirst  is  satisfied.  In  this 
way  they  escapo  the  danger  that  lies  in  \\ail  for  them. 


Hie  gardener,  the  latter  says. 
"Yes."  "Thank  you."  ••Car 
rots" — all  of  them  are  ear 
i-ots.  The  gardener  stands  al 
t  he  open  room  door,  and  says. 
"Now.  as  I  mention  a  vege- 
table, llie  pel  soli  whose  name 
it  is  must  iiixluiillii  rise  anil 
I'ollow  me  out  of  the  room." 
I  hen  tin-  gardener  calls,"  ( 'ar- 
rots!"  (If  course  then-  is  a 
general  stampede,  which  is 
most  langhahle.  Kvcrv  one 
thinks  all  the  otlicis  are  mak- 
ing a  mistake,  and  the  fun 
increases  when  each  discov- 
ers the  trick.  It  is  a  good 
game  for  an  April  party,  es- 
pecially if  the  ••  carrots"  or 

••  heels"  al.  all  led  to  a  slip- 
per of  COl  i  pies  and  wood- 
en ducks  and  tnrke\ . 


•  You'll   be    carrots.  \\  ill    \oti  . 


A   FLAG  OF  TRUCK. 

BY    MARGARET   EYTIM.i: 
tho  ground  the  spring  Mowers  were  waiting — 
ll\acintlis  rosy  and  yellow  and  blue: 
Tulips  in  gayest  robes  fit  for  u  kini;  or  i|iieen  ; 

(odden  narcissus,  and  silver  ones  too: 
I'rctty  bright  crocuses;  dear  little  lih    hells 

Strung  upon  slender  stems,  longing  to  ring; 
hi-  with  banners  of  lilac  and  jutrple 
Ready  to  wave  at  the  coming  of  Spring. 

But  still  a  winter  wind  blew  cold  above   them. 

Still  from  a  winter  sky  fast  fell  the  snow. 
"Oh,  will  he  never,"  they  murmured,  while  shivering, 

"Weary  of  scolding  and  fighting,  and   go 
He's  had  his  own  way  for  three  months  long  and  dreary; 

Now  it  is  time  he  should  let  ns  have  ours. 
Naught  have  we  done  to  be-  prisoned  thus:   children 

Sometimes  are  naughty,  but  nerrr  arc  lloweis." 

"I'll  plead  onr  cause,"  said  a  snow-drop.     "1'iav    hasten, 

Green  leaves,  before  me  to  show  me  the  way  : 
And  I  will  carry  a  Hag  of  truce  with  me. 

Then  he  in  honor  must  hear  what   I'll  say." 
lint  Winter,  spying  the  tiny  Hag  coming. 

Home  by  a  herald  not  half  a  foot    lii.uh. 
Shattered  his  spear  of  ice,  crying.  ••  Ye   pigmies. 

Fear  me  no  longer;  I'm  going.     (Jood-by." 


K   KNOW  IN". 
] -I"  IKoNS. 

THECentral  Prison  at  A.ura 
is  the  roost.ing-place  of 
great  numbers  oft  he  common 
blue  pigeon  ;  t  hey  tly  out  lo 
I  he  nei^hborim;  country  for 
food  every  morn  i  n  i;1.  and  re- 
turn in  the  evening,  when 
they  drink  at  a  tankjnst  out- 
side the  prison  walls.  In  this 
tank  are  a  larne  number  of 
I'rcsh-watcr  t  urilcs. 


"Tins  is  VEHY  FINE  WEATHKU."     "S  -  -A\    u  i:   \i.i.  "i    i  8." 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED     WEEKLY. 


P       [SHED  BY   l!.\i:ri:i:  A-    BROTHERS.  N.  «   FORK. 


ri;u  i     n\  i:   <  i  MX 


i 


Till:  "TEARER'S"  T!;l  \l.  Tl;ll' 

i^  M  \  i  i  HI  u  \\  urn:,  .n  \ 

]/<  '-I  I  I:  BRETT,  Chandli  i-  II,  nry,an<3  An,l.\  Steadworth 
IliU  V.  Ill  i  \\  rl-r  i.flrll  called  "railroad   I  io\  s.  " 
'.it  hers    \\rl-i-    all    connected    III     Millie    Ua\      \\llll 

1  '  ,ilrn:nl.      Th'-\    liail    parses   for  all    trains,  and 
•     name  uf  everv     locomotive   Ilial    ran    in   and 

nut  ,,i  I  "rairie  .1  nin-iicm. 

Fo-ti'i-    i,r  Ko*   fur  sliin-1.  had   a   ;j,md   sliaiv   i,l' 
tin-   ini-chaniral   ^i-niii-  uf  ('i\il   Kii'j-iiu-cr   lirctl, 

and  wi  •  over  linw  In-  could  m 

......  •  iiii|n-iivi-i  .....  I  in  9  ......  -I  limy  I  Iml  v.  mild 

liini  rirli  and  fam,ui-~.  Su  lie  \va-i  yn-ally 
drliylili-d  \\ln-n  mi,  Miniiiii-i- 
lii-x  falln-r  ya\c  linn  a  small 
hand  ear.  u  hieli  hail  heen  half 
smashed  in  an  accident,  In  use 
his  \\ils  upon. 

•'  I'.nl    \\  liat    can    yon    make 
mil   iif  i!  except  another  hand- 
ear  '"    asked    (  'handler,   as    he 
•  I  al    I  In-   ruin  u  ith  sonic 
cont<  m]it. 

"If  I'm  yolny  to  iin  i-nl 
son  ict  hiny  new.  \\  hat  do  I  want, 
v.  ii  h  aii\  of  the  old  things  f" 
and  !•',  is  1'cyan  to  measure  the 
1,'iiL'l  h  a  ml  hreadlh  of  the  ear 
III  a  \  i-ry  lillsiness  like  fashion. 

The    I  v,  i)    ho\  s   \\  alehed    his 

movements   \vith    a    yrnwinjr 

inlei'est.  and  \\  hen  I  he  \  ouii'j 
inventor  ]iul  up  his  rule  and 
inquired  if  lhe\  could  keep  a 
seen  I.  they  hoth  ]ilaced  their 
hands  upon  their  hearts  as  a. 
si<fn  thai  they  could  lock  up  :i 
hundred  i  i'  need  lie. 

"  Well,  then,"  continued 
Fos,  after  making  sure  that 
I  here  u  as  no  one  in  the  roiind- 
lioiise,  h\  the  side  of  which  his 
car  had  heen  placed,  "  I'm  go- 
ill  <r  to  riy  up  a  sail  boat!" 

"  With  the  nearest  river 
twenty  miles  away  ?" 

"  For  no  river  at  all."  re- 
turned  Fos.  "  That  wouldn't 
he  an  invention,  would  it? 
No.  it's  something  that's  nev- 


354 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


er  been  tried  before.  I'm  pretty  certain,  and  it's  just 
this:  if  you'll  both  help  me  I  mean  to  put  a  sail  on  this 
car." 

"But  you  can  only  fro  the  way  the  wind  blows, "ob- 
jected Chandler,  "so  how  do  you  propose  to  get  back  to 
your  starting-point  '.  Do  you  expect  the  wind  to  change 
to  suit  you  every  lime  .'" 

"Now.  there,"  cried  Fos,  "I'm  glad  to  hear  you  talk 
like  that,  because,  you  know,  all  the  great  inventors  uere 
laughed  at  at  first,  so  I  guess  my  idea  must  be  worth  some- 
thing." 

This  had  its  effect,  and  both  Andy  and  Chandler  list- 
eneu  more  seriously  as  their  companion  went  on  to  tell 
how  once  when  some  professor  proposed  to  cross  the  At- 
lantic Ocean  to  Europe  in  a  balloon  by  means  of  an  east- 
erly current  of  air,  there  was  the  same  objection  about  his 
getting  back. 

"But  didn't  lie  get  people  to  make  him  a  balloon."  went 
on  Kos.  "and  wasn't  the  thing  talked  about  in  the  papers, 
and  he  had  his  picture  published." 

"And  came  down  in  the  woods  before  he  even  got  to  the 
coast."  iinished  Chandler. 

"  But  that  was  because  it  was  a  balloon,"  returned  Fos, 
quickly.  "If  lean  sail  with  the  wind.  I'm  not  afraid  but 
I  can  manage  so  as  to  come  back  again  ;  but  even  if  I  can't 
it  'II  lie  a  great  thing  to  prove  that  cars  can  lie  moved 
by  means  of  sails,  so  they  can  put  them  on  the  regular 
trains,  when  the  wind  favors,  and  make1  them  go  twice-  as 
fast." 

<  'handler  was  privately  of  the  opinion  that  such  an  ar- 
rangement \\ould  prove  fatal  to  all  1 1  me  tallies,  anil  was 
jusl  going  to  inquire  how  people  would  know  \\hen  to  ex 
pect  a  train,  when  Andy  suddenly  exclaimed:  "'We've 
got  a  sail  at  home  that  \  on  can  have  il  \  oil  want  it.  Fos. 
We  had  it  on  our  boat  when  we  lived  East,  and  brought 
it  out  here  thinking  it  might  lie  useful  for  something  Or 
other,  but  I  heard  father  say  when  they  came  across  it  in 
cleaning  the  house  that,  he  didn't  want  it.  It's  all  mil- 
dewed and  full  of  holes,  but  1  guess  it  will  do  for  a 
trial." 

••Jolly:"  cried  Fos.  "That  'II  Save  a  lot  of  trouble  in 
begging  for  old  sheets.  And  now,  Chandler,  bring  your 
tool  chest  over  to  the  grove  behind  our  house  after  dinner, 
and  we'll  set  to  \\ork  mending  the  platform  and  making 
a  place  for  the  mast.  \Ve  can  let  it  down  a  foot  or  two 
underneath,  you  know,  and  brace  it  with  strips.  Has 
your  sail  got  .1  lioom.  A  ndy  ?" 

"No.  and  if  you  take  my  advice,  you  won't  have  any, 
for  it  '11  be  sure  to  come  flying  around  suddenly  and  knock 
one  of  us  over. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  '11  do  if  I  just  fasten  the  sheet  i<>  a 
cleat.  I  think  I've  seen  some  big  boats  fixed  that  way 
around  the  docks  in  New  York." 

"  What  '11  we  do  for  a  mast  :"  asked  ( 'handler. 

"  Oh,  we  can  take  the  ting-pole,  we  put  up  for  the  Fourth 
for  that."  replied  Fos.  "You  know  it's  in  the  grove 
th"re.  nice  and  handy.  And  now  be  careful,  both  of  you. 
not.  to  say  a  word  about  it  to  anybody  until  after  we  have 
the-  trial  trip."' 

"All  right."  returned  Chandler;  and  then  the  three 
went  their  several  ways  for  dinner,  to  meet  again  in  the 
grove  in  which  that  year's  Fourth  of  July  celebration 
had  been  held.  A  seldom  used  siding  of  the  railroad  ran 
through  it.  and  on  this  Andy  and  Fos  had  pushed  the 
hand-car,  after  having  placed  on  it  the  old  sail,  which 
Mrs.  Sieadworth  declared  she  was  glad  to  have  out  of  the 

house. 

The  first,  thing  to  be  done  was  to  take  down  the  flag- 
pole, which  was  not  quite  so  easy  a  task  as  Fos  h ad  thought, 
llouever.  it  \vas  finally  done  without  accident,  and  then 
" the  captain"  declared  thai  three  feel  musi  be  sawed  oil' 

from  the  lower  end.  And\  meanwhile  straightened  out 
the  sail,  while  Foss  patched  up  the  platform  of  the  car.  not 


forgetting  to  leave  a  hole  for  the  mast.      Next  came  UK; 
fastening  of  the  sail  (which  luckily  was  of  the   "lego' 
mutton"  style)  to  the  pole.      This  was  done  in  a  very  un- 
seamanlike  fashion  h\   means  of  bits  of  rope. 

The  mast,  with  the  sail  added  to  it.  was  pretty  heavy, 
but  the  three  at  last  succeeded  in  lifting  it  into  posi- 
tion: and  then,  while  Kos  and  Andy  held  it.  ('handler 
made  it  fast  by  means  of  the  flooring  and  two  or  three 
braces. 

All  this  took  time,  and  as  the  last  nail  was  being  dri\  en 
the  Bretts'  supper  bell  rang. 

"  I  don't  believe  anybody  '11  notice  that  mast  in  here  to- 
night, "said  Fos.  as  he  wound  the  sail  around  the  pole; 
"and  if  there's  a  breeze,  remember  we're  to  start  on  our 
trial  trip  at  live  o'clock  tomorrow  morning.  There's  no 
train  till  seven,  so  we'll  have  a  clear  track.  My,  won't 
she  tear  along  !" 

"  Let's  name  her  the  'Tearer,1"  suggested  Andy,  catch- 
ing the  delight  of  his  friend. 

"<4ood!"  cried  Fos;  "I'll  paint  it  in  red  It-tiers  on  a 
piece  of  board  to-night." 

The  last  thing  before  going  to  bi>il  that   night  the  three 
boys  put  their  heads  out  of  the  windou  to  see  about  the 
state  of  the  weather,  and  long  before  live  the  next  morn 
ing  they  were  up,  dressed,  and  wending  their  way  against 
half  a  gale  of  wind  toward  the  grove. 

Foster,  of  course,  was  the  first  one  there,  and  when  the 
other  two  arrived  he  pointed  proudly  to  a  piece  of  shingle 
nailed  to  the  front  of  the  hand-car,  on  which  \\as  paint- 
ed in  rustic  lettering  the  word 


ffff 


Si  SB 


"<iet  aboard,"  he  cried,  excitedly.  "The  sooner  we're 
oil'  the  better.'' 

"But  how  are  we  going  to  get  back  ;"  inquired  Chand- 
ler, as  he  somewhat  doubtfully  took  his  place  on  the  car. 

"Oh,  it's  just  a  trial  trip,  you  know;  so  we  needn't  go 
so  far  that  it  '11  hurt  us  to  push  her  back.  I!ut  isn't  it 
fine  to  have  such  a  glorious  bree/e.  and  exactly  in  the 
right  direction,  too  ?  It'll  take  us  right  on  to  the  main 
track." 

The  wind  was  certainly  all  that  could  be  desired,  and 
as  they  loosened  the  sail,  Andy  anil  Chandler  began  to 

grow  as  excited  as  i 

"  Now  each  of  you  put  out  a  foot  and  give  her  a  start," 
ordered  the  latter,  \\hen  all  was  ready.  "One.  two, 
three  go! 

And  go  they  did.  for  the  three  had  shoved  with  all  their 
might,  determined  to  have  a  splendid  "send-olV,"  if  no- 
thing more.  Out  of  the  grove,  on  past  the  round  house 
and  the  now  quiet  station,  glided  the  queer-looking  boat- 
car;  but  it  made  no  noise,  so  nobody  saw  it  except  its 
three  builders  and  passengers. 

"But  just  wait  till  we  get  out  into  the  open  country," 
exclaimed  the  delighted  Kos.  "then  \  01  Til  see  her  earn  her 
name." 

"  Are  you  sure  the  track's  all  clear  :"  a-k<  d  Andy,  nerv- 
ously, as  the  "Tearer"  jolted  from  the  siding  on  to  the 
main  line. 

"Why,  what  could  be  on  it  at  this  hour  '."  returned 
i  -.  lie  caught,  hold  of  the  sheet  to  feel  how  taut  it 

was. 

"Seems  to  me  we're  running  pretty  fast,  Kos."  remark- 
ed Chandler  from  bis  post  as  lookout  before  the  mast. 

"  Certainly  we  are,  and  that's  the  fun.  and  business  too, 
of  the  thing,"  replied  the  young  captain,  smiling  con- 
tentedly. 

"We've  gone  over  a  mile  already,  I  guess."  added 
('handler,  as  if  he  had  been  counting  up  the  number  of 
tin  m  he  would  have  to  \valk  back. 

Then  nobody  spoke  for  a  few  minutes,  while  the  hand- 
car sped  along  faster  and  faster,  for  the  same  question  had 
.suddenly  come  into  the  minds  of  all  three:  how  could 


AIMIII,   1" 


IIAUPKIi'S  YOUNG   I'F.ori.K. 


they  -top  the  "Tearer"  '  Th- T,-  was  no  brake,  and  they 
had  nothing  with  them  that  could  be  u SIM!  in  place  ,,f  on,-. 

( 'handler  was  the  lii-s!   to  break  the  si  I,  :,. 

"The  morning  express  is  due  at  the  .In  net  ion  a  I 
isn't    it.  Fos?"      Then   without   waiting  for  an  answer,  he 
pulled   out    his   watch,  and    went   on:    "It's  half   past    live 
now.  and  we're  riinnintr  to  meet  il." 

Andy   was  iookiiej  anxiously   from   on-1  to  tl (her  of 

tin-  older  lads,   and  they   in   turn   kept   then-  eyi 
the  sail,  in  which  there  was  still  no  Slgl 

Suddenly    Ko,  spraii1/  toward  the  shed,  crying.  "  What 
we  are'      "Why  don't  we  let  our  sail   loos,-  :"  and  he 
beir.m    fumblinir  at    tie-    knot;   but    i,  -train   bad 

drawn  it   SO  liirhl  that   it  was  impossible  to  untie  it. 

"<, k!     And\  !    (''Handler!'   he    exclaimed      "  oi f 

•   in,   a  knife       [  must  have  left  mine  in  the  wood- 
shed when  I  was  cuttinir  that  name  board 

\nd.\  bad  lost  his  the  week  before  Chandler,  how- 
ever, had  one.  which  he  hastily  handed  to  !•', ,s.  but  the 
car  was  now  jolting  so  violent  I y.  and  l-'osler's  hand  shook 
so,  that  just  as  he  \\a-  abmil  to  cut  the  rope  (he  knife 
slipped  from  his  lingers,  fell  beside  the  track,  and  was 
soon  h-fl  far  behind. 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another  blankly  after  this,  un 
til  at   la-l  (  lhandler  h  airain. 

"  I  lo    \oii   think    it   would  be  safe  for   us   to  jump  • 
was  all  he  said  when  he  had  noted  the  time. 

I  OB  shook  his  head.  "  We  mu-t  stop  il  and  gi  I  il  oil' 
tin-  (rack  some  w  a\  ."  lie  added. 

But  don't  suppose  the  engineer  of  tt  will 

see  u-  ill  I  un  ,|   Andy. 

\  ml    what    if   In-   should.1    he   couldn't    slop   us.  could 
be  :"       And   I-',,-  buried   his  face  in   hi-  hands,  as  he  tried  to 

ime  means  of  putting  an  end  lo  lie-  "T, 
w  ild  tliu-ht. 

"  ( 'a  n't  we  break  the  rope  f"  si  i  invested  <  'handler. 

Then    all   Ihn  •  risk    of  falling   oil',  used    all   th.-ir 

si  re  nu  lh  lo  (his  ,n,|.  but  the  sheet  held  last,  and  I  he  wind 
si  il  I  -how  ed  no  3JgnS  of  fallnej 

'I'll,  \    had  a  I  re;  id  \    w  hi/xj-d   by  t  wo  or  three  stations,  but 
it    was  s,,  early  in    the   niorninir  thai    no  om-  had   i 
them.     There  wa-  no  large  town  in-arer  than  thirty  miles, 
and  before  that  distance  could  be  COM -red  they  w  0:1  Id  meet 
the  express. 

I  In  and  on  they  went,  and  I  h"\  looked  at  each  oilier  in 
silence  For  no  on,-  of  ihem  had  the  heart  to  speak  a  word. 
Kasler  an  1  I'asler  (hey  Hew,  not  only  toward  what  might 
he  death  lo  tin  in.  but  what  might  also  result  in  the  de- 
struction of  tin-  cominir  train. 

Kvery  moment  they  expected  to  hear  a  whisl  le.  and  see 
the  black  form  of  the  ,  ,-  as  il  rushed  i 

them.     How  vainly  now  did   Foster  regrel  that   he  had 

made  such  a  secret  of  his  experiment.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
mu-t  have  felt  that  his  fat  her  would  have  forbidden  it. 

I'.nt  stop,  what  does  this  mean  .'  The  wind  was  blowing 
as  steadily  as  before,  the  track'  was  as  level,  but  the  speed 
of  t  he  ear  was  surely  slackening. 

"Oh.  the  curve!"  exclaimed  Chandler. 

They  hail  all  forgotten  about  that,  and  the  "Tearer"  had 

gone  at- id  it,  and  was  now  slowing  up,  for  the  wind 

struck  it  from  the  side. 

Very  soon  the  boys  were  enabled  to  bring  their  run- 
away boat -car  to  a  stand -still,  and  then  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  with  an  utter  disregard  for  the  mast,  they 
lipped  it  up.  the  wind  helping  them,  and  had  it  just  clear 
of  the  rails  when  the  express  came  rushing  by.  Then 
they  walked  three  miles  to  the  nearest,  station,  and  wait- 
ed two  hours  for  a  way-train,  on  which  they  meekly  rode 
home. 

The  "Tearer"  was  brought  back  that  afternoon  on  a 
freight  train,  but  her  trial  trip  was  the  only  one  she  ever 
made. 


AN    KXTINCT  SK\  ( 'O\Y. 

BT  HELEN  S.  COS  \NT. 

ON  a  bleak  (lay  in  November.  1741.  more  than  one  bun 
dred  and  forty  year-  u'ussiaii  ship  which  had 

' n   driven  through  icy  seas  at    the   merc\   of  winds  and 

waves,  came  to  a  small  harbor  on  an  unknown  and  rock- 
hound  coast. 

<  hi    hoard    the    ship   was    the   arctic    explorer    l'.ehrin<_r. 

wl n  a  previous  v  ova  ire  hail  discovered  I  he  strait  w  Inch 

separates  . \-i.i    I'r America,  and   which   hears  his  name. 

Many  of  the  men  who  were  with  ('aplain  IJehring  were 
sick  and  dyinir,  and  any  harbor  w  as  welcome.  Although 
not  a  tree  or  shruh  of  any  kind  could  be  seen  on  the  deso 
late  shore,  the  barren  rocks  and  sand  heaps  were  better 
than  the  storm;, 

i   anchoring  the-  vessel  those  of  the  crew   who   were 
strong-si  went   on  shore.      They  found  a  stream  of  fresh 
water  which   was   not    \  el    fro/en   over,  although  the  sides 
of   the    mountains   were   covered    with   snow.       Along   the 
hanks  of  this   stream  the  men   made   hollows   in  the  sand 
which  they  roofed  over  with  sails  brought    from  the  ship, 
and    to   these   rude   shelters   they    removed    their  sick    com 
pa  u  i  IL 

The  cold  ".TCW  more  hitler  every  day.  and  many  of  the 

sick   men   died   from    want   of  proper  food   and   care.      <  ui 

ol   December  the  party  had  the  nii-iortiinc  to  lose 

its   commander.  Captain    liehring.      lie   died  after   uTeal 

suH'eriniT.  and   was  buried  on  the  desolate  shore. 

Not    loin,'  after  his  death   a   e-n-ai    storm   arose,  and    the 

Vessel,  the  o|il\    means  of  ,  -cape  of   I  hese   poor  sailors,    was 

ed    upon    the    rockj    coast.      There   was    but   a    small 

porlion  of  (he  ship's  provisions  remainini;'.  and   fort  v-live 

men  were  left  with  no  ho| f  escape  for  months  to  come. 

The  situation  was  dreadful,  hut  the  men  faced  it  like 
true  heroes.  Instead  of  sitlmir  on  the  dill's  and  walch- 
inir  fora  sail,  which  in  those  far-oil'  rcjfions  mi^hl  never 
appear.  Ihc.v  at  once  -el  |»  work  to  see  what  the\  could  do 
I"  help  lie  The  lirsl  Ihin^-  to  do  was  to  secure 

all  the  beams  and  limbers  of  the  wrecked  vessel  before 
another  slorin  could  sweep  (hem  away. 

Happily  the  carpenter's  tools  had  all  been  brought, 
on  shore,  and  although  three  of  the  Russian  carpenters 
had  died,  there  was  a  Cossack  ainoii'j;  the  crew  who  had 
one,-  worked  in  a  .-.hip  yard,  and  who  was  able  to  direct, 

w   vessel.       It  was  decided  lo  bcL'iu  the 

new  ship  as  soon  as  the  snow  inched  so  the  men  could 
work,  and  meanwhile  they  must  discover  where  they  had 
been  ca-t  ashore,  and  if  the  land  contained  anylhiu";  to 
support  life. 

A boii I  ten  miles  from  the  coast  was  a,  hi^h  hill,  and  on 

climbing   to  the   top   the    men    lound   that    lhc\    were  on   a 

:-laiid.      This  island,  now  known  as  Hehrinir  Island. 

in    honor  of   its  discoverer,  w  ho  lies  buried  in   its  sands,  is 

iln-  most  westerly  "f  the  Aleutian  group,  and  at  the  time 

these  poo,-  IJussiaii  navigators  were  ca-l  away  on  it  was 
uninhabited,  except  by  foxes  and  other  wild  animals. 

The  creature  that  WS  lo  play  the  most  important  part 
in  saving  the  lives  and  health  of  these  shipwrecked  men 
was  a  sea  cow.  To  their  <;reat  deliu'lit  they  found  larye 
herds  of  these  creatures  livinic  in  the  bays  and  inlets  of 
the  rocky  shore.  They  belonged  to  the  same  family  as 
the  sea  cows  which  are  lo  be  seen  all  alonu'  the  Ama/ons 
and  in  swampy  coast  lands  of  the  West.  Indies  and  the  Gulf 
of  Mexico,  but  were  much  larger  than  those  found  in  I  lop 
ical  seas.  Steller,  the  naturalist  of  Captain  Tieh ring's  ex- 
pedition, studied  their  habits  carefully  during1  his  forced 
slay  on  the  desolate  island,  and  the  creature  is  now  known 
in  natural  history  as  Sleller's  sea  cow. 

It  was  a  very  lar.u'c  beast,  measuring  in  length  from 
twenty-eight  to  thirty-live  feet,  and  weighing  over  live 
hundred  pounds.  In  form  it  was  similar  to  a  huge  seal 
or  sea-lion,  and  its  fore-flippers  were  armed  with  stout, 


356 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


nails,  with  which  it  tore  up  the  sea -weed  and  water- 
grasses  which  served  for  its  food.  These  sea-cows  were 
very  sociable  animals,  and  lived  in  large  herds  like  cat- 
tle. They  lived  mostly  in  the  water,  but  would  some- 
times crawl  011  the  shore,  and  sleep  for  hours  and  even 
days  among  the  wet  sea-grasses.  They  were  very  ugly- 
looking  creatures,  and  their  movements  on  shore  were 
clumsy  and  awkward.  The  head  was  small,  the  mouth 
large;  the  hide,  covered  with  scattering  short  stiff  hair, 
lay  in  great  wrinkles  all  over  the  huge  body. 

When  the  Russian  sailors  first  saw  these  beasts  they 
were  puzzled  how  to  capture  one  ;   but  starvation  was 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL:" 

BY      JAMES      OTIS, 
AUTHOR  OP  "  TOBY  TTLEK,"  "Toi  AXDTIF,"  "Mi:.  STUBBS'S  BBOTHEK,"  ETC. 


STELLER'S    SEA-COW. 

almost  upon  them,  and  food  must  be  obtained  at  any 
price.  The  animals  were  not  afraid  of  men,  for  they  had 
evidently  never  seen  human  beings  before,  and  were  not 
suspicious  of  evil.  At  length  one  was  secured  by  menus 
of  a  harpoon,  and  to  the  great  relief  of  the  men  the  flesh 
was  found  to  be  similar  in  flavor  to  beef,  while  the  thick 
coating  of  fat  with  which  the  creature  was  covered  under 
its  skin  was  useful  as  lard. 

Good  and  wholesome  food  was  now  abundant,  as  more 
sea-cows  were  captured  and  killed,  and  the  men  went  to 
work  to  build  their  ship,  their  hearts  filled  with  courage 
and  hope.  It  was  slow  work,  as  their  materials  were 
poor;  but  at  length  a  small  vessel  was  completed  and  suc- 
cessfully launched,  and  about  the  middle  of  August  the 
men  set  sail  from  the  island  where  so  many  of  their  for- 
mer comrades  were  buried.  The  ship  was  well  supplied 
with  salted  and  dried  sea-cow  beef,  and  after  a  voyage  of 
eleven  days  a  small  port  on  the  coast  of  Kamtchatka  was 
reached  in  safety. 

But  there  were  sad  days  in  store  for  the  poor  and  de- 
fenseless sea-cows.  The  escaped  sailors'  told  wonderful 
stories  of  these  creatures,  and  soon  other  sailors,  especially 
those  in  charge  of  whaling  ships,  sought  out  the  island, 
and  waged  relentless  war  upon  the  sea-cows,  which  proved 
valuable  for  their  strong  stout  hides,  the  nourishing  meat, 
which,  salted  or  dried,  would  keep  for  a  whole  year,  and 
for  the  immense  quantity  of  fat — an  article  much  valued 
in  the  cold  countries  of  the  far  North.  So  extensive  was 
the  slaughter  of  the  sea-cows  that  in  less  than  thirty  years 
not  a  single  animal  remained. 

Many  explorers  of  more  recent  times  have  tried  in  vain 
to  find  one  of  the  animals  described  by  Steller;  but  it 
seems  to  be  entirely  extinct,  and  the  only  traces  which 
have  been  discovered  are  a  few  skeletons  bleaching  011  the 
barren  sand. 


CHAPTER   VI. 
THE  WRECK. 

rpHE  boys  were  obliged  to  look  several  moments  in  the 
J.  direction  Captain  Sammy  pointed  before  they  could 
see  anything  that  looked  like  a  boat,  and  then  they  saw 
dimly  in  the  fast-gathering  darkness  a  small  white  cloud 

on  the  surface  of  the  water, 
that  grew  to  look  more  and 
more  like  a  sail. 

Captain  Sammy  seemed 
almost  beside  himself  with 
joy,  for  in  this  approach- 
ing boat  he  saw  the  means 
of  escaping  a  sharp  attack 
of  rheumatism,  which  he 
felt  he  should  surely  have 
to  endure  if  he  slept  in  the 
open  air  all  night. 

But  the  boys  looked  at 
this  boat  which  was  coming 
along  so  merrily  under  the 
influence  of  the  strong  sea- 
breeze  with  far  different 
thoughts.  They  had  count- 
ed on  this  enforced  camp- 
ing out  as  an  adventure 
which  could  be  told  tlim- 
friends  at  home  as  having 
some  tinge  of  danger  in  it ; 
but  to  be  rescued  before 
nine  o'clock  in  the  evening 
made  it  a  very  tame  affair. 

On  came  the  little  boat,  regarded  with  such  opposite 
feelings  by  age  and  youth,  until  siie  could  be  quite  clearly 
seen,  although  the  white  sail  hid  those  on  board  from  the 
view  of  those  on  the  island. 

They  could  almost  hear  the  water  ripple  around  her 
bow,  and  Captain  Sammy  could  keep  still  no  longer. 

"  Boat  ahoy !"  he  shouted,  using  both  hands  for  a  speak- 
ing-trumpet, and  making  such  a  noise  that  lie  might  have 
been  heard  half  a  mile  away. 

There  was  no  answering  hail  from  those  on  board  the 
little  craft,  and  while  Captain  Sammy  was  wondering 
why  no  reply  came,  the  boat  luffed  up  into  the  wind,  pre- 
senting to  the  watchers  only  the  full  sail  and  the  bow. 

"Why!  why  I"  stammered  Captain  Sammy,  in  sur- 
prise—  "why,  that's  my  boat!" 

The  boys  thought  that  rather  a  rash  assertion  for  the 
little  man  to  make,  since  it  was  impossible  to  see  her  with 
sufficient  clearness  to  be  sure  as  to  such  a  fact;  but  the 
Captain  continued,  "That's  my  boat,  sure,  for  there's  the 
very  patch  I  put  on  her  sail  last  Wednesday." 

In  trying  to  make  out  this  mark,  the  boys  now  saw 
what  they  had  not  noticed  before.  At  the  mast-head 
floated  something  black,  which  Bobby  felt  sure  was  the 
pirate  flag  Tommy  Tucker  had  displayed  on  the  oar  short- 
ly after  he  had  captured  the  boat. 

It  was  all  very  strange,  for  it  did  not  seem  possible  that 
Master  Tucker  would  come  to  the  island,  so  great  had  been 
his  fear  of  Captain  Sammy.  Besides,  now  that  it  was 
evening,  his  crew  must  be  on  shore,  behaving  like  a  peace- 
ful boy  again. 

But  as  the  boat  went  slowly  ahead,  and  then  came  up 
into  the  wind,  there  could  be  no  mistake  made.  Master 
Tucker  was  there,  and  alone,  in  all  the  glory  of  his  gor- 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


APRIL  lo,  iss:;. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


357 


geous  uniform,  while  his  lint:  floated  proudly  over  him. 
Hi-  -iirely  li;id  conic  back,  although  for  what  purpose  it 
was  imiii'-  --ii.Ie  even  i'  >  guess. 

At  tin-  sight  of  (his  boy.  whom  he  had  put  out  of  his 
mind,  in  order  that  he  might  be  more  contented  with  his 
fate,  all  of  Captain  Sammy's  anger  came  back  with  re- 
newed force 

"You  villain  1"  he  cried,  "come  in  here  this  minute, 
and  let  me  yd.  my  hands  on  you  once." 

It  is  hardly  possible  thai  Captain  Sammy  thoughl  Tom- 
my would  obey  the  command,  and  yet  he  waited  pali;  nt- 
ly.  as  if  In-  expected  i  bat  such  would  be  the  case. 

"I'm  comin'  over  here  in  the  morniii'  to  serve  you  out," 
cried  Tommy,  defiantly,  to  tin-  angry  man;  "but  I've 
come  now  to  tell  them  boys  that  Ikey  went  up  to  the  hotel 
an'  told  that  they  wouldn't  be  home  to-night." 

"  Does  my  mother  know  when-  we  arc  ; "  asked  Dare. 

"No;  he  jest  told  her  that  you  was  oil'  with  that  old 
heathen,  an'  wouldn't  be  home  to-night." 

"Did  he  tell  her  irliy  we  couldn't  come  back  '"  and 
liare  grew  anxious  now. 

"Of  course  he  didn't.  What  kind  of  a  feller  do  you 
think  I  am  i  If  he'd  told  her  that,  she'd  sent  over  here 
to-night,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  let  Cap'n  Sammy  get  au.iy 
fill  I've  lived  him  out  so's  he'll  be  sorry  he  ever  took  his 
leg  i"  me." 

"I'll  beat  the  whole  of  your  miserable  body  with  it." 
roared  Captain  Sammy:  and  he  slarled  to  take  oil"  his  leg 

aL-am.  but  remembering  his  former  mishap,  he  shook  In-, 
list  instead. 

"  I!"/'//  you  come  in  here  and   take  us  oil'  .'"  he  shouted. 

"No,  1  won't,  "was  the  pirate's  defianl  reply.  "  If  them 
fellers  want  to  go  home,  I'll  carry  'em  over,  provided 
they'll  tie  you  band  an'  foot,  an'  let  me  pound  you  as 
much  as  I  want  to  lii-st." 

Under  other  circumstances  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible for  the  boys  to  have  restrained  their  laughter  at  the 
very  comical  appearance  of  Captaiii  Sammy;  but  now  it 
seemed  all  too   serious  for  mirth. 
He  ran  along  on  the  beach  first  this 
way  and  then  that,  shaking  his  fists 
at   the  small  boy  in  the  boat,  and 
acting  in  every  way  as  if  his  anger 
had  made  him  lose  his  senses. 

"Will  yon  do  what  I  want  you 
to  .'"  asked  Tommy,  clearly  speak- 
ing of  the  capture  of  the  Captain. 


"We  can't  do  that,"  replied  Dare;  "but  we'll  do  al- 
most anything  else  you  want  us  to.  if  you  will  take  us 
home." 

"I'll  never  take  you  away  if  you  don't  lie  the  old  hea- 
iheii  ;"  and  from  the  very  decided  tone  it  was  easy  to  un- 
derstand  that  Master  Tucker  expected  them  to  help  him 
to  his  revenge. 

W 1  iile  they  had  been  talking,  the  wind  had  been  increas- 
ing in  force,  and  already  had  the  waves  begun  to  put  on 
their  white  caps  as  if  preparing  for  a  regular  lark.  The 
little  boat,  lying  head  to  the  wind,  tossed  about  like  an 
egg-shell,  and  Captaiii  Sammy  saw  that  she  was  being 
forced  slowly  but  surely  toward  the  beach. 

If  Tommy  could  only  be  induced  to  remain  there  long 
enough,  he  might  be  aground  before  he  was  aware  of  the 
fact. 

"  Keep  talking  to  him,"  whispered  the  Captaiii  to  Dare, 
"  an'  we  may  get  our  hands  on  him  after  all." 

But  it  was  almost  as  if  Tommy  had  heard  what  his  ene- 
my had  said,  for  hardly  had  the  words  been  spoken  when 
he  found  out  his  peril,  and  began  to  see  how  he  could 
avoid  it. 

He  got  an  oar  out.  and  began  pulling  the  boat  around  so 
that  the  sail  would  lill  again.  Had  he  been  a  better  sailor 
he  would  not  have  pulled  so  long  before  he  attended  to  the 
sheel  and  helm,  and  this  same  want  of  knowledge  brought 
the  pirate  voyage  to  a  more  speedy  ending  than  he  had 
looked  for. 

He  worked  at  the  oar  until  the  wind  completely  filled 
ihe  sail,  forcing  the  little  craft  around  suddenly,  and  bear- 
ing her  directly  oil  to  the  sharp  reef  of  coral  that  showed 
itself  just  above  the  water  not  more  than  fifty  feet  from 
tin-  main  line  of  the  shore,  and  a  little  to  the  right  of  where 
I  he  party  on  the  island  were  standing. 

The  force  of  the  wind,  which  was  now  increasing  each 
moment,  sent  the  boat  on  toward  the  sharp  coral  points, 
which  could  pierce  her  timbers  so  easily,  with  a  speed  that 
seemed  to  make  Tommy  helpless.  He  made  no  attempt  to 


"THE    BOAT    HUNG    FOR    A    SINGLE    INSTANT    OVER    THE    REEF.' 


358 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


remove  his  boat  from  the  dangerous  position  in  which  lie 
had  placed  her,  but  clung  to  the  rail,  crying  for  help  in  the 
must  unpiratical  manner. 

"Let  go  your  sheets,  and  put  your  helm  hard  down!" 
shouted  Captain  Sammy,  forgetting,  in  his  eagerness  to 
save  the  boat,  that  he  was  giving  advice  which,  if  follow- 
ed, would  enable  the  thief  to  escape. 

But  Master  Tucker  was  past  that  point  where  he  had 
any  idea  of  what  he  should  do,  or  even  where  he  could 
understand  what  was  said  to  him. 

He  remained  by  the  rail,  looking  at  the  reef  toward 
which  he  was  being  borne,  with  his  boat  at  the  mercy  of 
both  wind  and  waves,  that  were  dashing  her  on  to  de- 
struction. 

With  only  one  thought,  that  of  trying  to  save  Mas- 
ter Tucker  when  the  final  crash  came  and  he  was  hurled 
into  the  water,  the  three  boys,  regardless  of  the  wounds 
caused  by  the  sea-urchins,  ran  down  the  beach.  Captain 
Sammy,  still  shouting  his  orders  to  the  frightened  pirate, 
followed  their  example,  and  all  stopped  opposite  the  point 
toward  which  the  boat  was  heading. 

It  was  but  a  few  moments  before  Tommy  Tucker's  ca- 
reer as  a  pirate  was  ended. 

Lifted  high  on  a  wave  larger  than  the  preceding  ones, 
the  boat  hung  for  a  single  instant  over  the  reef  below, 
and  then  was  clashed  upon  it  with  a  force  that  shattered 
every  timber,  and,  fortunately  for  him.  hurled  the  pirate 
captain  entirely  over  it,  almost  upon  the  beach. 

Master  Tucker  was  not  at  all  injured  by  the  fall ;  but  he 
was  terribly  frightened  at  being  thus  tin-own  exactly  at 
the  feet  of  the  man  whom  he  expected  would  punish  him 
most  severely. 

Before  the  boys  could  reach  him — and  they  started  to  his 
aid  at  once,  fearing  lest  he  was  injured  by  the  fall — the  dis- 
heartened pirate,  who  had  lost  both  weapons  and  his  gor- 
geous hat,  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  made  all  speed  toward 
the  centre  of  the  island. 

His  short  voyage,  during  which  he  had  destroyed  no- 
thing more  than  Captain  Sammy's  boat  and  temper,  was 
ended,  his  craft  was  a  complete  wreck  upon  the  little  reef, 
and  the  pirate  himself  a  prisoner  upon  the  same  island  to 
which  he  had  doomed  the  others. 

It  was  a  quick  ending  to  Master  Tucker's  dream  of 
wickedness,  and  one  that  seemed  all  the  more  cruel  to 
him  since  he  had  never  believed  that  pirates  were  in  the 
habit  of  being  wrecked. 

When  his  boat  first  struck  the  reef,  Captain  Sammy 
dashed  into  the  water  as  if  he  were  going  to  her  rescue, 
regardless  of  the  rheumatism;  but  before  he  had  gotten 
in  above  his  knees  he  turned  around  and  came  back. 

He  knew  from  the  sound  when  she  struck  the  reef  that 
she  had  been  injured  beyond  all  hope  of  mending,  and  it 
would  be  a  more  than  foolish  task  to  attempt  to  wade  out 
to  where  she  was  being  torn  in  pieces  by  the  waves. 

"Look  out  for  the  oars  and  sail!"  he  shouted  to  the 
boys,  while  he  watched  for  the  small  water  cask  which  he 
always  carried,  no  matter  how  short  a  voyage  he  was 
making,  in  the  hope  that  it  would  be  washed  ashore,  and 
thus  givu  them  a  chance  to  secure  a  stock  of  water. 

It  was  hardly  ten  minutes,  so  furious  had  the  waves  be- 
come and  so  strong  did  the  wind  blow  directly  toward  the 
land,  before  the  boys  had  secured  three  of  the  oars,  and 
soon  after  the  sail  came  ashore  directly  in  front  of  the 
Captain. 

He  ordered  the  boys  to  drag  the  canvas  up  to  the  camp. 
As  they  did  so  they  wondered  why  he  remained  there  so 
anxiously  when  there  was  no  longer  a  hope  that  any  por- 
tion of  the  boat,  save  small  fragments,  could  be  washed 
ashore. 

But  Captain  Sammy's  watching  was  at  length  reward- 
ed, and  when  he  saw  the  water  cask  floating  heavily  on 
the  waves  he  rushed  into  them  for  the  second  time,  and 
brought  it  ashore  triumphantly. 


"It  come  just  in  time,"  he  said,  gleefully,  "for  there 
ain't  over  an'  above  half  a  pint  of  water  in  my  canteen, 
and  you  boys  would  have  wanted  a  drink  pretty  soon." 

In  fact,  they  began  to  grow  thirsty  just  as  soon  as  they 
realized  how  near  they  had  come  to  being  without  any 
water,  and  it  was  not  until  they  had  each  drank  twice 
from  the  cask  that  they  felt  satisfied,  even  though  they 
had  not  thought  of  it  before. 

Captain  Sammy  spread  the  wet  sail  out  in  front  of  the 
fire  to  dry.  and  as  he  sat  gazing  at  it  and  smoking  he  felt 
very  much  relieved  in  mind,  for  now  they  would  at  least 
have  a  covering  over  their  heads. 

It  was  quite  natural  that  the  boys  should  wonder  as  to 
what  had  become  of  Tommy  Tucker,  and  Dare  proposed 
that  they  should  go  in  search  of  him.  But  Captain  Sam- 
my put  an  end  to  any  such  charitable  plan  by  saying, 

"Let  him  alone,  an'  in  the  morning  I'll  go  after  him 
myself,  an'  then — 

The  Captain  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  his  face 
was  very  expressive  as  to  what  Master  Tommy's  fate  would 
be  when  he  should  have  him  in  his  power. 

Dare  trembled  for  the  misguided  pirate  until  he  realized 
that  it  would  be  one  thing  for  Captain  Sammy  to  go  after 
him.  and  quite,  another  matter  to  catch  him,  owing  to  the 
matter  of  legs.  But  he  thought  it  was  cruel  to  leave 
Tommy  alone  on  the  island  all  night,  even  though  he  had 
done  them  so  much  harm. 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  try  and  find  him,  so 
that  he  can  sleep  with  us  to-night?"  Dare  asked.  "It 
won't  do  any  harm,  and  you  can  punish  him  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  a  chance  to  sleep  very  much  if  he 
should  dare  to  show  his  nose  around  here  to-night,"  said 
Captain  Sammy,  in  such  a  tone  that  Dare  concluded  it 
might  perhaps  be  less  painful  for  Tommy  to  sleep  alone, 
ami  anywhere  he  could  find  a  place,  rather  than  with 
them. 

The  boat  sail  was  far  from  being  dry  when  the  little 
man  took  it  from  the  fire  and  spread  it  over  the  boughs 
of  the  trees  as  a  shelter.  But  the  hour  was  late,  and  the 
Captain  anxious  that  the  party  under  his  charge  should 
get  to  sleep  as  soon  as  possible. 

But  en-en  after  the  boys  were  stretched  out  on  the  hard 
sand,  and  Captain  Sammy  had  laid  himself  down  !«•- 
tween  them  and  the  fire— as  if  to  keep  them  from  rolling 
out  of  bed — sleep  did  not  appear  inclined  to  pay  them  a 
visit. 

They  listened  anxiously  to  each  sound,  and  at  every 
rustling  of  the  leaves  they  fancied  they  heard  Tommy 
corning  to  ask  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  share  their 
cam])  with  them. 

Then  when  the  time  wore  on,  and  every  one  in  the 
tent  save  Dare  had  yielded  to  slumber,  the  boy  began  to 
grow  very  nervous  and  unhappy  because  of  the  possible 
fate  of  the  pirate.  He  feared  lest  all  kinds  of  accidents 
might  befall  him,  until  his  imagination  had  pictured  so 
much  suffering  for  Tommy  that  he  attempted  to  crawl 
quietly  out  over  Captain  Sammy  in  order  to  go  in  search 
of  him. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  the  little  man  slept  with  one  eye 
open,  for  no  sooner  did  Dare  make  the  first  movement 
toward  getting  out  than  the  Captain  said,  much  as  if  he 
had  not  been  asleep  at  all,  but  had  been  lying  awake  read- 
ing the  boy's  thoughts, 

"  You  may  put  some  more  wood  on  the  fire;  but  don't 
you  try  to  find  that  Tucker  boy,  because  I  shall  make  it 
very  uncomfortable  for  him  if  he  comes  around  here  to- 
il ight.'' 

So  all  Dare's  kindly  impulse  resulted  in  was  the  rebuild- 
ing of  the  fire,  and  then  he  crawled  in  behind  Captain 
Sammy  again,  wishing  he  could  know  that  Tommy  was 
at  least  safe  from  bodily  harm. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


APRIL  1",  iss:.;. 


HAUI'ElTS  YorXG  PEOPLE. 


359 


RAISING  CANARIES. 

BY  A.  \V.  UOBEUTS. 


millS  is  tin-  por- 
J.  trait  of  the  little 

songster  that  took  the 
Jiri/.c  :il  tin-  "  Exhibi- 
tion of  Canaries,  and 

British  and  Foreign 
Birds"  recently  held 
in  London.  England. 
The  little  fellow  with 
his  golden  plumage 
and  musical  voice 
must  indeed  be  a 
prince  among  cana 
ries.  for  he  had  793 
other  birds  of  his  »\\  n 
kind  to  dispute  the 
pri/.e  w  illi  him.  All 
honor  to  him.  \\ilh 
his  dainty  way-,  his 
cunning  top  -  knot, 
and  hisrich  outbursts 
of  -ony  such  as  can 
only  come  from  the 
free  and  untroubled 
heart  of  a  bird  ! 

80  far.  we  have 
not  taken  enough  interest  ill  birds  in  this  country  to 
have  exhibitions  especially  devoted  to  them;  but  that 
canaries  are  very  popular  amoiiir  us  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  during  this  season  sixty  thousand  of  these  birds 
will  be  brought,  to  this  country  from  Europe,  and  will 
join  the  thousands  upon  thousands  that  are  already  at 
home  in  our  land.  Soon.  also,  these  beautiful  Songsters 
will  be  passing  through  the  most  critical  period  of  their 
lives  the  breeding  season.  Thousands  of  them  will 
perish  from  neglect,  want  of  knowledge  and  experience. 
and  even  from  too  much  care  on  the  part  of  their 
owners. 

Raising  canaries  is  an  interesting,  instructive,  and  pay- 

ing employment  for  young  people.  It  is  very  suitable 
to  the  girls,  as  they  are  usually  more  painstaking  and 
thoughtful,  more  delicate  and  tender  in  the  handling1  of 
pels,  than  boys.  Many  hints,  .surest  ions,  and  make- 
shifts may  be  offered  to  a  beginner  which  will  prove 
very  useful;  still,  the  successful  raising  of  canaries  must 
depend  to  a  great  extent  on  the  knowledge  gained  by 
experience. 

The  modern  breeding  cage,  which  is  to  be  the  home  of 
the  father  and  mother  bird  and  their  little  ones,  is  called  a 
"double  cage."  It  is  in  reality  one  long  cage  divided 
through  the  middle  by  a  movable  wire  partition.  In  one 
of  these  divisions  two  nest  boxes  are  placed,  and  the  lien 
bird  is  allowed  to  select  the  nest  that  pleases  her  best.  The 
partition  is  left  open,  unless  the  male  bird  becomes  ill-tem- 
pered. when  it  is  used  to  separate  him  from  his  family  so 
that  he  can  not  injure  or  annoy  them.  The  cage  should 
be  hung  in  the  most  quiet  and  private  part  of  the  room. 
"\Varm  or  hot  walls  should  be  avoided,  or  positions  where 
the  hot  rays  of  the  sun  will  reach  it,  though  one  hour  of 
the  cool  morning's  sunlight  will  be  of  advantage.  The 
heat  of  the  room  should  be  very  even. 

The  best  nesting  boxes  are  of  tin  or  wire;  pasteboard 
and  wooden  boxes  are  very  apt  to  harbor  vermin.  In 
order  to  destroy  these  little  pests  when  they  appear,  the 
so-called  "Persian  powder"  is  blown  into  all  parts  of  the 
nest,  even  into  the  feathers  of  both  the  old  and  young 
birds,  without  the  least  injury  to  the  birds,  but  with  death- 
dealing  effect  to  their  tormentors. 

Some  breeders  remove  the  old  nest  and  destroy  it  as 
soon  as  the  young  are  out  of  their  shells,  and  put  in  its* 


place  a  hand-made  nest.      This  should  be  done  when  the 
mother  bird  is  away  feeding  or  bathing. 

For  nest-building  many  things  can  be  used,  such  as 
deers'  hair,  ravelled -out  old  sheeting-,  untarred  Manila 
rope  cut  into  lengths  of  one  inch  and  picked  apart,  also 
line  shavings  of  tissue-paper,  and  feathers  that  have  been 
seal. led  in  hot  water.  These  materials  are  placed  in  small 
quantities  against  the  wires  on  the  outside  of  the  cage,  so 
that  the  hen  and  male  birds,  for  they  both  work'  on  Un- 
building of  I  he  nest,  can  reach  them.  If  they  were  placed 
on  the  lloor  of  the  cage,  they  would  become  soiled  and 
otherwise  unlit  tor  nest  building. 

In  case  there  are  a  number  of  breeding  cadi's  in  the 
room,  they  can  be  placed  one  above  another,  or  if  placed 
side  by  side,  they  must  he  divided  by  partitions  of  stiti' 
paper,  so  that  t  lie  occu  pants  of  one  cage  ca  11  not  see  1  hose 
of  the  other  cages.  The  lloor  of  the  cage  should  be  I  hor 
oughly  covered  with  gravel.  A  little  old  lime,  broken 
well  up.  may  now  and  then  be  scattered  about  the  bottom 
of  the  cai;-e  :ls  well  as  the  gravel. 

In  the  way  of  plain  v.  holesome  food  for  birds  that  a  IT 
breeding  nothing  is  better  than  (icrman  rape-seed  mixed 
with  a  little  canary  -eed.  Hird  seed  should  lie  as  pure  and 
fresh  as  possible.  See  ihat  it  is  free  from  dust;  sift  it 
well,  and  keep  it  in  (dean,  dry  jars  or  pickle-bottles.  The 
lien  bird  must  be  well  supplied  with  lime  in  the  form  of 
finely  crushed  euu  shells  and  cult  le-lish  bone. 

As  soon  as  the  \  oung  hirils  are  out  of  the  shell,  the  food 
is  changed  to  hard  boiled  eirg  grated  and  mixed  with  an 
equal  part  of  soaked  cracker.  During  hot  weather  the 
caue  should  be  well  supplied  with  greens,  such  as  tender 
and  fresh  lettuce,  chick-weed,  groundsel,  or  a  piece  of  raw- 
sweet  apple.  To  wean  the  young  birds  from  their  soft 
food,  and  that  they  may  learn  to  feed  themselves,  nothing 
is  l»ller  than  carefully  washed  and  soaked  rape-seed. 

The  twelfth  or  thirteenth  day  after  the  laying  of  the 
lirst  e^u'  the  young  birds  ma\  be  expected.  The  nest 
should  he  looked  at  every  day.  for  it  often  happens  that  a 
\OIUILT  bird  is  smothered  or  otherwise  killed,  and  the  ne 
cessity  of  its  prompt  removal  is  very  great.  Should  the 
parents  desert  their  offspring,  they  are  sometimes  raised 
by  baud  by  means  of  a  goose-quill  filled  with  a  pasle  com 
posed  of  equal  parts  of  hard  boiled  e^g  and  grated  cracker, 
to  which  is  added  soaked  rape-seed  that  has  been  rolled 
oil  a  board  to  separate  the  hulls  from  the  meat  of  the  seed. 
Two  or  three  quillfuls  of  this  paste  are  fed  to  the  orphans 
every  hour. 

The  yonim  males  begin  warbling  as  soon,  as  they  are 
and  can  lea\  e  the  nest.  They  are  then  placed  in 
separate  and  small  cages  near  accomplished  singers  for 
their  musical  education.  Their  voices  improve  constantly 
for  eight  or  nine  months. 

A  bad-tempered,  greedy,  and  vicious  young  male  bird 
is  known  as  a,  "growler,"  and  is  always  to  be  taken  out 
of  the  nest  and  disposed  of  before  he  does  an  injury  to  his 
sisters  and  brothers.  The  male  bird,  so  long  as  he  be- 
haves himself  in  the  breeding  cage,  refrains  from  annoy- 
ing his  mate,  feeds  her,  takes  her  place  on  the  eggs  when 
she  is  off,  is  doing  all  that  can  be  expected ;  but  as  soon  as 
he  begins  to  behave  badly  it  is  better  to  make  use  at  once 
of  the  partition  to  the  cage  and  place  him  where  he  can  do 
no  mischief. 

In  case  the  young  birds  are  not  out  of  their  shells,  it 
may  be  necessary  to  find  the  hen  bird  a  mate  who  will  be- 
have better;  but  as  soon  as  the  young  are  hatched  the 
mother  bird  will  bring  them  up  herself  without  any  help. 
The  mother  birds  are  not  always  perfection  ;  some  are 
poor  nest-builders,  or  lay  their  eggs  anywhere  and  every- 
where about  the  cage,  or  will  not  lay  regularly,  as  they 
should,  everv  day  ;  others  again  will  not  feed  their  young, 
or  will  peek  and  pluck  out  their  feathers  after  killing 
them  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  the  female  canary  is  a  model  of  good 
behavior. 


360 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"TAKE    CAKE,   SIR!" 


JOHNNIE  AND  THE  CRAB. 

BY  ALLAN  FORM  AN. 

JOHNNIE  was  lying  with  his  head  over  the  stern  of 
the  boat,  looking  down  into  the  water.  He  was  in  no 
very  good  humor  either,  and  the  reflection  of  his  face  on 
the  surface  of  the  creek  was  a  very  wrinkled  one. 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  muttered.  "  I  think  mamma  might 
let  me  take  just  a  little  row.  It's  just  as  safe  as —  There's 
a  crab !  I  wonder  if  it  is  a  soft  one  ?"  he  added,  interrupt- 
ing himself.  "  I'd  poke  my  finger  down  and  see,  only  if 
he  was  hard  he'd  bite  me."  And  Johnnie  leaned  further 
over  the  stern  of  the  boat,  trying  to  see  what  the  crab  was 
about,  till,  splash!  he  went  over  into  the  water. 

For  a  moment  he  was  frightened,  but  soon  recovered  his 
self-possession,  as  the  crab  remarked,  rather  crossly,  "Do 
you  always  make  your  entrance  into  company  that  way  '." 
Johnnie  declared  he  was  very  sorry,  and  the  crab,  some- 
what softer,  growled,  "I  s'pose  it's  all  right,  but  you  near- 
ly tumbled  on  me,  and  spattered  my  mouth  full  of  mud." 

"  1  was  trying  to  see  if  you  were  soft." 

"Oho!"  laughed  the  crab.  "And  you  thought  you'd 
fall  on  m<-  to  find  out."  And  the  crab  laughed  as  if 
he  thought  it  a  great  joke.  Finally  he  calmed  himself, 
and  COUP  lined,  "No,  I  ain't  soft,  but  I'm  a  shcilu'-r 
Now  u  mil 'i- here,"  he  continued,  lifting  a  piece  of  sea-weed, 
"  is  a  real  softie." 

"  What  does  lie  stay  under  the  sea-weed  for  ?" 

"  On  account  of  the  men.  Partly  because  of  the  toad- 
fish,  and  partly  because  of  eels,  but  mostly  on  account  of 
the  men,"  replied  the  crab. 

"  Do  the  toad-fish  bother  you  much?" 

"  Awful  I"  replied  the  crab,  solemnly — "awful !  "Why, 
you  see,  a  good-si/ed  toad-fish  could  swallow  me  whole. 
Then  the  eels  bite  one's  legs  off  and  nibble  pieces  oft'  of 
us,  so  thai  ain't  pleasant." 

"I  should  think  not,"  said  Johnnie. 

"Now  there  comes  a  toad-fish,"  continued  the  crab. 
"  He  knows  I'm  hard,  and  he  don't  see  you."  And  with 


a  lazy  flirt  of  his  speckled  tail,  the  toad -fish  vanished 
round  the  corner  of  the  dock. 

Johnnie  breathed  freer  as  the  ugly-looking  creature  dis- 
appeared,  and  proceeded  once  more  to  question  the  crab. 

"How  do  you  shed  .'"  he  inquired. 

"  Well,  you've  just  come  in  good  time  to  see,"  answered 
the  crab,  good-naturedly,  "for  I'm  just  going  to  shed." 

So  saving  lie  chose  a  clear  spare  in  the  mud.  and  com- 
menced to  wave  his  claws  to  and  fro;  suddenly  he  stopped. 
"  ( 'onie  here,"  he  said;  then  added,  as  Johnnie  approach- 
ed, "You  see,  the  back  seam  is  split  all  the  way  along?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Johnnie. 

"And  the  two  side  seams  f" 

"Yes." 

"Well,"  continued  the  crab,  "with  the  exception  of 
those  two  small  cracks  in  my  claws,  these  are  the  only 
splits  in  my  shell,  and  I  shall  crawl  out  of  the  back  seam." 
And  he  commenced  waving  his  claws,  and  moving  first 
one  way  and  then  the  other.  The  crack  along  his  back 
grew  wider,  and  the  soft  shell  underneath  could  be  plain- 
ly seen.  Soon  he  was  half-way  out  of  the  old  shell,  and 
finally,  after  great  efforts,  he  slid  out  completely,  and  the 
old  shell  and  the  perfect  crab  lay  side  by  side.  For  the 
momenl  Johnnie  could  hardU  tell  which  \\  as  which,  but 
a  wink  from  his  old  friend  soon  showed  him. 

"  NOW,"  said  the  erali.  "  you  see  I'm  as  Soft  as  can  be. 
Put  your  linger  on  me  gently,  and  feel."  Johnnie  did  so, 
and  found  that  the  crab's  skin  was  as  soft  as  his  own. 
"I  think  I'll  go  to  sli>e|)  for  a  while  now.  You  had  bel- 
ter run  np  1o  your  mother:  but  before  you  go  just  pull  up 
that  piece  of  sea- weed  over  me." 

Johnnie  did  as  he  was  told,  and  suddenly  found  him- 
self in  the  boat  with  his  neck  very  si  ill'  from  having 
bung  over  the  stern  so  long.  When  he  told  his  mother 
about  it.  she  laughed,  and  said,  "  You  must  have  dreamed 
it."  But  Johnnie  says  that  he  was  sure  that  he  saw  the 
crab  wink  at  him  as  he  left  the  boat,  and  certain  it  is  that 
Johnnie  won't  eat  crabs  any  more  for  fear  of  making  a 
meal  off  his  friend. 


GRANDMAMMA'S    SCHOOL-DAYS. 


362 


IIAHPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MARK'S  STORY. 

A  TALE  OF  THE  SODT1I  PACIFIC. 

'ARK  is  my  brother.  The  story  is  his,  not  mine.  He 
is  just  home  after  a  terrible  adventure.  No  doubt 
you  all  read  of  the  wreck  of  the  Euroclydon;  that  was 
Mark's  ship. 

Tin-  Eiintcl i/don  was  wrecked  somewhere  in  the  lati- 
tude of  Cape  Horn;  a  few  survivors  in  a  small  boat  were 
picked  up  in  a  state  of  great  misery  by  a  passing  ves- 
sel and  brought  home  to  England.  The  opinion  of  the 
men  saved — some  thirteen  or  fourteen  in  number — was 
that  every  other  soul  on  board  had  gone  down  with  the 
ship. 

Mark's  name  appeared  in  the  papers  among  the  list  of 
the  missing,  and  for  weeks  we  mourned  him  as  dead.  I 
believe  his  mother — my  mother  too,  God  bless  her  loving 
heart! — never  quite  despaired  through  those  long  tearful 
days,  when  we  sat  out  on  the  lawn,  pretending  to  work  or 
read,  but  with  thoughts  far  away,  never  daring  to  men- 
tion the  name  of  him  whose  memory  was  always  upper- 
most in  our  minds. 

Brave,  handsome  Mark!  How  could  she  think  of  him 
as  lying  cold  and  dead  at  the  bottom  of  the  tossing  sea  ? 
No,  he  was  living  in  her  heart.  A  prayer  for  his  safety 
was  on  her  lips  from  morn  till  night,  and,  strong  in  loving 
faith,  she  believed  he  would  some  day  be  restored  to  her. 

And  he  was. 

Why  tell  of  the  joy  he  shed  on  the  household,  of  the 
surprise,  of  the  discarded  black  dresses,  of  the  shadow  lift- 
ed from  my  mother's  life  ?  After  the  news  of  the  wreck 
she  looked  ten  years  older,  but  the  stolen  summers  were 
restored  to  her  on  the  day  when  Mark  walked  alive  and 
well  up  the  garden  path.  Why  tell  all  this  ?  Let  Mark 
tell  his  own  story. 

When  the  catastrophe  happened  I  was  below,  and  I  at 
once  rushed  on  deck.  Two  bouts  were  lowered  in  the 
greatest  confusion,  and  filled  beyond  safety. 

Seeing  this,  and  knowing  that  if  I  sprang  into  either  of 
them  the  cook  and  one  of  the  seamen,  who  were  beside  me, 
were  sure  to  follow,  and  we  should  all  be  capsized,  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  keep  to  the  ship  and  take  my  chance.  Hard- 
ly had  the  Captain's  gig  got  away  when  a  great  sea  caught 
her,  and  over  she  went.  I  could  see  only  two  men  afloat, 
and  presently  they  disappeared. 

What  to  do  with  ourselves  now  became  the  important 
question.  The  vessel  was  settling  lower  and  lower  in  the 
water  every  minute.  To  stay  with  her  till  she  foundered 
was  almost  certain  death,  and  the  only  chance  we  had 
was  to  hastily  build  a  raft  and  trust  to  floating  about  un- 
til we  caught  the  attention  of  some  passing  vessel. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  All  worked  with  a  will, 
and  soon  a  few  planks  were  tied  securely  together.  Scarce- 
ly was  this  done  when  we  heard  a  strange  rumbling  noise 
below-decks.  The  boilers  had  burst,  and  with,  one  terri- 
ble roll  the  vessel  sank.  In  a  moment  we  were  all  in 
the  water,  and  it  seemed  to  me  an  age  before  I  came  to 
the  surface  again. 

On  rising  at  last,  and  pushing  the  hair  out  of  my  eyes,  I 
looked  round  for  the  raft.  There  it  was,  floating  bravely, 
not  many  yards  away,  and  the  ship's  cook  had  already 
gained  possession.  Striking  out  in  despair,  I  soon  reached 
it,  and  with  his  help  scrambled  out  of  the  water.  Then 
we  saw  Smith  struggling  hard  to  reach  us.  A  wave 
bore  us  right  toward  him,  and  we  managed  to  haul  him 
aboard.  So  three  of  us  were  saved,  if  saved  you  could 
call  it,  to  be  left  in  the  midst  of  the  wildest  sea  in  the  world 
on  a  few  planks  tied  hastily  together. 

How  the  days  and  nights  passed  I  hardly  know.  I 
think  we  were  almost  too  benumbed  to  be  able  to  think. 
One  thing,  however,  became  clear — the  sea  was  gradually 
getting  quieter  every  hour,  and  this  gave  us  hope. 


On  the  third  day  we  sighted  a  speck  in  the  distance. 
It  was  laud.  Evidently  we  were  Hearing  some  of  the  isl- 
ands of  Terra  del  Fuego.  On  we  drifted,  inspired  by  fresh 
hopes,  dismissing  from  our  minds  all  fears  as  to  the  recep- 
tion we  might  meet  with  should  the  island  prove  to  be  in- 
habited. It  was  land;  that  was  enough  for  us.  We  took 
one  of  the  planks  of  our  raft  and  used  it  as  an  oar,  work- 
ing it  by  turns. 

Almost  as  soon  as  we  commenced  waving  our  jackets 
we  beheld  a  movement  on  shore.  The  place  trots  inhab- 
ited, and  in  a  few  minutes  half  a  dozen  boats  were  skim- 
ming toward  us  over  the  water.  How  shall  I  describe  the 
occupants  of  these  boats?  And  how  can  I  find  words  to 
tell  our  despair  when  we  recognized  them  as  the  lowest 
type  of  savages— most  likely  cannibals  { 

Soon  they  were  beside  us.  shouting  and  screaming  in 
a  horrible  jargon;  men  and  women  almost  naked,  of  a 
tawny  brown  color,  short  and  thickset.  Hideously  ugly 
is  a  mild  term  to  apply  to  them.  In  vain  I  scanned  the 
numerous  faces  for  a  trace  of  mere  human  feeling.  In 
only  one  countenance  did  I  seem  to  find  a  gleam  of  pity. 
It  was  the.  face  of  one  of  the  women,  younger  than  the- 
rest,  and  less  tiendish  ill  her  expression.  Her  eyes  all 
through  this  strange  scene  were  fixed  steadily  on  me. 

All  at  once  the  women,  as  with  one  impulse,  thrust  into 
the  men's  hands  their  weapons  of  war,  and  with  wild  ges- 
tures pointed  to  the  raft.  In  a  moment  the  man  nearest 
had  raised  his  blade,  and  poor  Smith  fell  dead.  Another 
savage  blow  cost  the  cook  his  life.  I  closed  my  eyes,  and 
lay  there  expecting  that  my  death-blow  would  instantly 
follow. 

Whether  my  weak  state  or  my  youth  had  filled  them 
with  pity  I  know  not,  but  they  did  not  strike.  In  a  short 
time  I  was  lifted  off  the  raft  into  one  of  the  boats,  and  we 
paddled  back  to  shore.  After  that  I  remembered  nothing 
for  a  time.  I  suppose  I  fainted  from  exhaustion  and  hun- 
ger. When  I  came  to  my  senses  I  found  myself  in  a 
dark,  damp  cavern  on  the  side  of  the  steep  rocky  island. 
At  first  I  wondered  where  I  was,  and  looked  round  utterly 
astonished,  until  my  eyes  fell  upon  a  figure  at  the  door- 
way, and  I  remembered  what  had  happened.  All  my 
clothes  were  gone  with  the  exception  of  my  trousers;  but 
although  evidently  a  prisoner,  with  my  jailer  at  the  door, 
I  was  not  bound  in  any  wav. 

But  I  need  not  go  into  the  details  of  my  daily  existence. 
Nothing  occurred,  and  I  could  only  wait  and  wonder  what 
would  he  my  fate. 

My  usual  food  consisted  of  a  coarse  salt  species  of  mus- 
sel, varied  with  a  kind  of  dried  sea-weed,  and  occasionally 
— about  once  a  week — a  piece  of  raw  seal  was  added  to  my 
bill  of  fare.  Was  I  being  fattened  up  for  the  royal  table  ? 
And  when  would  his  Majesty  take  a  fancy  to  a  filet  de 
midshipman,  or  some  English  bones  grilled? 

One  night  my  jailer  was  absent,  and  I  was  stretched  in 
a  corner  of  the  cave  trying  to  get  asleep.  Suddenly  a 
shadow  fell  across  the  entrance,  and  a  figure  approach- 
ed. In  my  visitor  I  recognized  the  young  woman  whose 
eyes  had  been  so  earnestly  fixed  on  me  during  the  terri- 
ble tragedy  on  the  raft.  She  began  to  make  signs;  the 
thought  that  she  wished  to  save  me  helped  me  to  under- 
stand her. 

By  gestures  she  told  that  on  the  morrow  I  was  to  die, 
and  that  she  desired  to  save  me.  She  gave  me  a  small 
weapon,  with  which  I  understood  I  was  to  slay  my  jailer 
if  he  saw  me.  She  led  me  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  and 
pointed  round  toward  the  eastern  side  of  the  island,  where, 
as  I  understood  her  to  mean,  there  were  no  inhabitants. 
By  degrees  I  understood  that  she  meant  me  to  go  to  one 
particular  creek  in  the  island,  and  there  I  would  find  oars 
and  paddles,  or  probably,  I  thought,  a  boat  or  a  raft. 

How  I  ever  scrambled  over  those  unknown  and  rocky 
paths  I  can  not  tell.  My  feet  were  soon  cut  and  bleeding, 
but  I  heeded  not.  On,  on  I  pushed,  with  desperate  speed. 


AI'KII,   1".  1883 


YOl'XG  PKOPI.K. 


303 


It  seenicil  to  me  as  if  tin-  distance  lengthened  as  I  went, 
and  I  despaired  of  ever  reaching  the  creek  in  time  to  save 
myself. 

A!    length    I    reached    a    'jiilly    wider    than    any    I    had 

pa-sed.  \\liii-li  I  fancied  miii'ht  lead   n Mt  to  i  lie  sea-side. 

In  about  half  an  hour  I  was  rewarded  by  hearing  the  dis- 
taut  splash  of  the  waves.  In  a  lit  I  le  thin-  1  came  across  ;l 
|>air  of  clumsily  made  paddles  hidden  in  a  crevice  of  the 
roc  -.  and  jumped  for  joy.  But  no  boat  was  near.  "Ex 

tremes  meet."  is  all  old  proverb.  From  tin-  cMreine  of  de- 
light I  was  plunged  into  the  exlrein.-  of  mi-ery  and  de- 
spair. What  was  the  use  of  paddles  without  a  h<> 

Standing  on  a  hi-jh  rock  asking  myself  if  I  could  -ail 
to  Europe  on  two  small  oars.  I  saw.  ahoul  ilml\  yards 
i'rom  the  edge  of  ihe  sea,  a  dark  oiij.  .-t  of  -i|iiai-e  form  that 
seemed  to  move  with  (lie  swelling  of  the  Waves.  I  n  a  mo 

ne  nt  1  was  swimming  toward  the  object,      Wa- it  a  raft? 

1  rapidly  approached.  It  proved  to  b,  a  long  liox.  for  on 
striking  its  side  it  sounded  hollow.  I  swam  round  to  one 
of  its  ends,  that  faced  the  brighl  moon.  Picture  my  joy 
when  1  read  in  uhile  letter.-  t  lie  word  ElirOctydon. 

It  was  the  ice  box  of  our  ship!      I  lad  Providence  guided 
It  t  here  '.     I  1 1 ii -i i  sau    what  I  lie  brave  '_•  irl  had  done.     Knou 
ing  it   to  he  impo—ihle  to  steal  ,,ne  ,,|    ihe  hoat-  beloniriiig 
to  her  trihe  without  being  found  out.  .-he  had  u  ailed  until 
chance  should  Supply  something  tbal  would  do  in  its  place. 
The   ice  IHIX   had  drifled  there-   from   Ihe   Euroctydoil,  &nd 
the  savage  had  deemed  it.  time  to  -et   me  tree.       1  clamber 
cd  on  to  tin1  hox  and  fell  upon  my  knees  with  a  prayer  of 
gratitude. 

It  was  now  nearly  dawn,  and  no  time  was  to  he  lost. 
1  tried  to  paddle  my  strange  craft  out  to  sea.  hut  m\  prog- 
ress uas  slow.  That  it  irilH  pro^iv-s  was  all  1  could  sa\ 

A  day  passed,  and  no  sail  appeared.      As  night  came  on 
[  opened  the  doors  of  the  ice  ho\   and  lay  down  on  them. 
and  was  as  comfortable  as  any   our-  could  expect    to    he 
Under  the  circumstances 

The  second  day  passed  withoiil  incident,  a-  did  also  the 
third,  except  that  on  each  I  saw  a  ship  in  the  distance, 
which  I  was  nnahle  to  signal. 

The  fourth  day  was  pleasant  hut  very  cold.  I  saw  anoth- 
er sailing  vessel,  hut  could  not  attract  her  at  tent  ion.  Re- 
meinher,  I  had  hut  one  garment,  and  when  I  wanted  to 
signal  a  vessel  1  was  obliged  to  take  it  and  wave  it  frantic- 
ally ahnve  my  head.  1  did  not  sull'er  in  the  least  from 
hunger;  in  fact,  I  had  no  craving  for  food. 

At  last — words   would  fail  to  descrihe  what   my  feelings 

u  ere  --I  saw  a  brigautine,  and  in  ansuer  to  my  two-legged 
flag  she  signaled  me.  I  strained  my  eyes  to  try  and 
watch  her  every  movement.  I  seemed  to  think  I  hat  if  I 
ceased  to  look  at  her  for  a  second  she-  would  disappear.  I 
held  out  my  arms  toward  her,  my  teeth  were  set,  and  my 
eyes  were  almost  starting-  from  their  sockets.  i  saw  the 
boat  lowered,  and  as  it  came  near  and  nearer,  I  fell  down 
in  a  heap  on  my  queer  craft,  and  sobbed  as  if  my  heart 
wen-  breaking.  The  men  took  me  quiie  tenderly  on  board 
the  boat,  and  my  faithful  ice-box  drifted  away. 

No  sooner  had  I  set  foot  on  the  brigantine  than  I 
made  a  rush  for  the  "scuttle-butt"  and  began  to  drink. 
After  I  had  drank  all  that  I  could,  the  steward  stopped 
me,  and  furnished  me  with  a  bowl  of  cotfee;  I  never 
knew  until  that  moment  what  a  delicious  drink  coffee  is. 
Then  the  Captain  got  me  food,  and  the  sailors  brought  me 
clothes.  I  was  the  hero  of  the  hour.  Every  luxury  of 
the  ship  was  given  me,  and  in  return  I  had  to  tell  my 
story  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

You  may  be  sure  that  when  we  reached  England  I  did 
not  stop  to  write,  but  took  the  first  train  home.  Aud  here 
I  am. 

This  is  how  Mark  always  used  to  wind  up.  There  is 
no  need  for  me  to  add  anything.  The  story  is  true,  and 
that  is  enough. 


LITTLE   KKEDKIKA    I'.KE.M  EI£. 

\:\    Ml.1-    M    I     s  \\i,-n  t; 

^'KI.'Y  likely  many  of  you  have  still  before  you  the 
pleasure  of  reading  the  works  of  Miss  Fredrika  lire 
mer.  In  Tin'  II.  /•'uniih/.  Tlir  Xi'ii/liliorx.  AY/m.aml  other 
stories  written  by  this  bright  anil  merry-hearted  woman, 
you  will  tiud  a  world  of  enjoyment,  for  Miss  Bremer  was 
one  of  ihe  most  famous  women  authors  of  our  century. 

But  it  is  not  of  her  hooks  nor  of  her  grown -up  life  that 
I  thought  of  telling  you  when  1  wrote  "  Little  Fredrika, 
I'.remer"  at  the  top  of  my  paper. 

When  she  was  a  child  most  parents  were  verv  grand 
and  stately  in  their  manners  with  their  children,  anil  hers 
were  especially  severe  and  formal.  Fredrika  and  her  sis- 
ter- n-ed  to  hide  in  the  rooms  of  their  governess  or  nurse 
when  they  heard  the  step  of  father  or  mother.  The  lirst 
duty  of  each  morniiiir  uas  to  go  to  their  mother,  not  for 
a  kiss  and  a  lovimr  look,  but  to  be  criticised  and  scolded 
if  they  did  not  enter  the  room  ".racefully.  They  had  to 
courtesy  at  the  door,  walk  slowly  up  to  Madame  Ilremer, 
and  kiss  t  he  t  ips  of  her  extended  lingers.  Fredrika  could 
never  .-land.  Ml.  walk,  or  courtesy  well  enough  to  please 
her  mother,  and  she  was  often  obliged  to  go  through  the 
whole  performance  several  times,  and  be  blamed  for  her 
awkwardne-s  beside-. 

Madame  llremer  had  three  principles  in  the  govern  men  I 
of  her  child  re  n  I  wo  w  Inch  \\ere  very  good,  and  one  which 
Was  ver\  had.  The\  were  to  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the 
evil  that  is  in  Ihe  world,  they  u  ere  to  be  thoroughly  taught 
by  the  best  professors,  and  —  think  of  it.  dears!  -they  were. 
to  eat  as  liiih  as  possible.  She  fancied  that  eating  as 
much  as  they  \\ished  would  make  them  dull  about  learn 
ing.  and  vul-jar  looking  as  well  ;  she  desired  her  daughters 
to  become  sylph-like  and  slender,  like  the  heroines  in  the 
romance-  which  then  were  the  fashion. 

So,  until  they  were  tifteen.  the  little  Bremers  never 
were  permitted  to  eat  as  much  as  they  wanted  at  any 
meal.  Breakfast  consisted  of  a  liny  basin  of  cold  milk 
and  a  very  little  piece  of  thin  hard  rye  biscuit.  Dinner 
was  always  eagerly  welcomed,  for  then  the  children  were 
allowed  to  eat  of  three  of  the  four  or  five  dishes  which 
composed  the  meal;  they  tasted  very  good  to  the  poor 
half  starved  things.  At  night  the  rye  bread  and  cold 
milk  appeared  again.  Miss  Bremer's  sister  declared  in 
after  life  that  she  never  had  seen  bowls  so  small  as  those 
which  held  their  breakfasts  and  suppers. 

Fredrika  was  a  very  plain  child  with  a  very  large  nose, 
which  she  made  much  worse,  by  constant  efforts  to  im- 
prove its  shape.  High  foreheads  were  admired  in  those 
days,  and  hers,  alas!  was  very  low.  Young  ladies  who 
wear  bangs  and  frizzes  to  hide  their  foreheads  will  be 
amused  to  learn  that  Miss  Bremer  began  to  improve  hers 
by  regularly  plucking  out  the  hairs  which  grew  around 
it,  until  one  day  her  mother  remarked,  quite  innocently, 
"Your  forehead  is  not  so  very  low,  after  all  !'' 

In  spite  of  constant  scolding  and  punishment  Fredrika 
managed  to  be  quite  happy.  The  servants  and  her  bro- 
thers and  sisters  loved  her  very  dearly.  One  year  the 
children  saved  all  the  candies  that  were  given  them,  eat- 
ing only  one  or  two,  and  locking  up  the  rest,  so  that 
Fredrika,  who  was  fond  of  candy,  should  have  a  great  box 
of  it  on  her  birthday.  The  birthday  came,  and  there  was 
an  immense  heap  of  sugar-plums,  but  unfortunately  most 
of  them  were  hard  and  dry,  and  the  children  were  much 
disappointed  at  the  result  of  their  self-denial. 

The  girls  were  clever,  witty,  and  well  taught  in  books, 
but  none  of  them  were  ever  very  strong.  They  suffered 
in  health  throughout  life,  from  their  mother's  mistaken, 
notions  that  thin  clothing  and  insufficient  food  were  for 
their  good.  But,  nothing  checked  their  flow  of  cheerful 
spirits,  and  of  the  household  of  young  people  Fredrika 
;  was  the  gayest  and  most  charming. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


rlown 
|nlKe  -montk  wKen-rfie  Kce-fieldj  J 

i  *  +      -;ncf     I    • 

been  Tnjsly  a.    cfn 
a.  star  coulcj  fee 


u     on 
eT1    ai'ty    da-ne'e  m  "the  c|ar)c  a!1  "ff>e  qa?i»b 


-H>e 
Jh°J''^ome 


M.-.MK.ty  .sufjVi-ecf 


'J"Ja.d  "troutlej    too_,fb 


t    loss     o[    Ker 


Kouse 

fn    f>ai"    ^    leS'rj,,  Jujt"  jo 
uld   c)i-owr> 


here    in  -fKc    J'cent   of  tK?  J 


/A,-'down  "Hie 

OF  tV,  iudcjen  b>"i 
JJf, 


i  J  not"  ?  Ke;  acfcjedj'  beneatk  tk 
ple>a.,TEtn1er  J-porj"  tkan  "to  ctCtch 

1  jubbojeyou  wouldn't  CAre 
" 


you  rda.T-e'-me 

me  Ike  Uui     ttJ  would^h  c|o  !~'J 


AI'KII.   1",  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


365 


AN  - 


ace  fully  w&ved  tke 

C     \         f 

of  "the  CAT, 

|>om  lob  To  ,ctbr>e, 


Jlimmer  of  lij^f, 


p"  or  r^oll|)^»^    tut  tlial*  waving  ~td.il  tared  lieu, 


jyvnc)     wdj    cf  Tnucl-   i|>e-  very 
dii"    witK    A  jcW<  tJ>a1~  Jp»"t*.  hirt 


neJ  wfvile  fioMT 
.  tKe  wildcat" 

hr  ff^  KeJ^HF 

I 
^m^t"  MONKEY 


<2^t^  -I        -  V  • 

,  J  KC^VONKF  v  vva-i  Kc-ard.  nexTclav/  iu  C  CUHT: 
^vj'/ivs  jr  m/  |6u)f,'-saicl    Kt?^TKaf  it  bi-oKf  ofjt  jj>o-t 
T  ceuv  only'/,;,^;  KacJ  -tl-,0  l^i".  bee-^  jfron&  — 
B"f   I  mivrt  nol'  mftKe  my  plea,  too  JonS  _ 
"VrJ"  oK  !  Let"  nif  ^wp£tr  no  hobe  op">s)v 
<*T*"  IF    C  •    -4-  i  ^•e' 

Jorvyjfir,  r0)-  &.  nionii  nl    f  nK  v'f-cj   ni/  jaj^ajn.- 

A""-  flip  proof  --  ':  J  flutij  youv-tad  awy 
"Fai'^  fw  otil"   )'n   live  VollinB  /5RA-. 


q 


uite  "bale 


on-fk 


-nrvJ  .Jo-^TUs  Ilk-  ''folly  cK 

-  O^t  cvci>_witlv  Krf.    abouf  ffeii*> 


now  ! 


ft       >' 

/>nc|  it"  ijjuF-cj    o.  jolemvi 
jp  be  yanTin  forte   'throu&do 

' 


"no    cat"  \nt 
oiiM    ever 


idej  >  a.s  ILTI/   conr-f 


ill  TiMt  jtio«!4  jail? 
v-  a-1diL 


-Ja - 


"tree. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CLINTON,  NE»  YonK. 

DEAitPosTMisTRESs,— My  brother  has  taken  HAR- 
PEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever  since  it  was  published. 
Papa  takes  the  MONTHLY  and  WEEKLY.  \Ve  have 
every  number  of  the  MONTHLY,  fur  grandpa  took 
them  when  papa  was  a  little  buy.  They  are  all 
bound,  ami  we  think  a  good  deal  of  them.  I  ara 
eleven  years  old.  and  have  written  to  yon  sever- 
al times,  but,  mamma  never  would  send  the  let- 
ters. She  says  she  will  sent!  this,  and  copy  it  fur 
me  so  that  you  can  read  it  without  any  trouble. 
I  want  to  tell  you  a  true  story.  It  happened  to 
i<  relation  of  mine  about  twenty-seven  years  ago. 
This  is  the  fourth  story  I've  written  : 

NELLIE  AND  ABE. 

When  Nellie  was  twelve  years  old  her  mother 
sent  her  to  the  country  to  spend  the  summer. 
Nellie  was  thin  and  pale  :  could  not  study  or  eat. 
The  doctor  said  she  must  go  in  the  country,  run 
all  she  wanted  to,  and  do  as  she  liked,  if  she  did 
nut  want  to  do  anything  naughty  that  would  hurt 
her.  Aunt  Betsy  let  her  have  her  own  way.  she 
rode  on  horseback,  waded  and  swam  in  Stony 

Creel;.  st I  on  the  long  pole  that  Incle  John 

bouml  the  hay  down  with  after  it  was  loaded,  and 
which  huns  on  to  the  back  of  the  cart  while  the' 
men  were  loading.  The  men  called  it  the  boom- 
pole.  But  the  naughty  thing  that  Nellie  did  that 
summer  is  what  lam  going  to  tell  you.  Her  cous- 
in Abe.  whu  was  ten  years  old,  did  everything 
that  Nellie  tulil  him  to. 

One  <lay  they  put  their  wise  little  heads  togeth- 
er, and  made  up  a  plan  fur  blacking  their  laces 
and  going  round  the  neighborhood  begging.  Nel- 
lie burned  several  corks,  and  blackened  Abe's 
face  and  han. Is.  Wiih  his  help  she  then  black- 
ened her  own.  They  dressed  themselves  in  u!d 
clothes,  Abe  putting  on  an  old  dre<s  they  found 
ill  the  garret.  Abe.  like  all  the  little  buys  in  that 
part  of  the  country,  went  barefooted  every  day, 
and  he  forgol  to  blacken  his  feet  or  put  on  shoes. 

off  they  started.  After  calling  on  sonic-  of  the 
ni  i_nliurs.  and  having  a  merry  time,  the  children 
walked  slowly  down  the  road.  Suddenly  they 
espied  a  man  on  li  irseback  coming  toward  them. 

"All!"  cried  Abe.  "hen'  comes  old  Dominie 
Van  Horn.  Let  us  ask  him  to  help  us." 

So  Nelho.  putting  out  her  hand  as  the  dominie 
rode  up  to  them.  said.  "  Won't  you  please  give  us 
some  pennies.  sir.  t,,  get  something  to  eat?" 

T M  gentle  ma  n  asked  them  a  few  Questions, 

then  put  ting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  took  out  two 
pennies,  when  all  al  once  his  eve  rested  on  \lie's 
hare  leet.  Sai,l  he,  turning  to  Nellie.  "  Lit  tie  girl, 
is  that  your  sister  " 

"No. sir."  she'  answered.  "  it  is  my  cousin." 

"  Well,  how  is  it  that  she  has  a  black  face  and 
white  feet?" 

"she  is  piebald  '"  screamed  Nellie,  and  the 
naughty  children  ran  down  the  road  as  last  as 
they  co'uld,  while  the  old  dominie  rod,-  oil  laugh- 
ing. 

Now,  dear  Postmistress,  don't  you  think  that 
is  a  funny  story?  BESSIE  B. 

Yes.  it  is  a  funny  story,  and  Bessie  has  told  it 
very  well.  What  a  library  you  have.  dear,  if  you 
possess  all  the  volumes  of  H_u;i-i'u'-  MONTHLY 
MAGAZINE!  1  am  sure  you  enjoy  peeping  into 
them  and  looking  at  the  pictures.  It  was  very 
kind  of  mamma  to  copy  your  letter  and  story  for 
me  to  read.  I'lease  give  her  my  thanks. 


'  OII-VM.I.F.    MISSISSIPPI. 

I  have  wanted  to  send  you  a  letter  fur  a  year, 
but  I  was  afraid  my  letter  would  not  be  nice 
enough  fur  the  Post-office  Box.  Don't  you  all 
wish  we  could  see  the  Postmistress?  Mamma 

and  I  talk  a!>.. nt  her  a  g Ideal  sometimes.  We 

think  she  is  voung.  and  aLrain  we  decide  she  is 
not.  for  she  seei  is  to  know  what  will  please  us. 
and  irives  ns  such  irood  advice  tiiat  we  can't  help 
thinking  she  has  a  good  many  boys  and  girls  at 
home 

I  am  a  girl  cloven  vears  old,  I  live  in  a  pretty 
grove  of  holly, magnolias,  and  beech.  My  m.  't  her 
is  an  invalid.  She  teaches  us  when  she  is  not  suf- 
fering too  much.  She  has  not  walked  for  six 
vears  I  do  all  our  work— cooking,  milking,  and 
house- work.  \Ve  have  no  servant.  My  Ml  I  le  Bro- 
ther can  help  me  ;  he  is  only  six  years  old.  but.  he 
can  chop  wood,  vnilk  Cowslip,  and  walk  a  mile 
1  times  a  week  to  the  post-office,  and,  the 
best  of  all.  he  is  so  kind  and  thoughtful  of  dear 

sick  tnamnri 

I  must  tell  you  one  little  thing  about  him.  Last 
fall  mum  ma  sent  him  with  some  money  to  the 
.si  ore  t  o  ^'t  sume  cloth  to  make  him  an  overeoal 
After  he  had  gone  a  little  way  he  came  back  to 
her  bed.  and  asked  her  if  sin1  had  lionudit  her 
winter  flannel.  Mamma  told  him  she  would  at- 
tend lu  it,  but  he  begged  her  not  to  put  it  off,  and 
asked  her  to  write  for  it  instead  of  the  coat  for 
him. 


I  have  a  chance  to  go  to  school,  and  mamma  is 
going  to  try  to  get  along  with  Ed  Elliott  (that  is 
my  brother's  name).  I  have  a  younger  brother, 
but  mamma  was  too  weak  to  take  care  of  him, 
and  a  kind  aunt  took  him  when  he  was  four 
months  old.  He  is  four  years  old  now.  and  his 
friends  love  him  dearly.  It  was  very  hard  for  us 
to  ^i\e  him  up.  You  may  know  \\  e  are  happy 
when  he  comes  to  see  us.  I  do  not  keep  bouse 
very  nicely,  but  if  you  would  like  to  know  how  I 
manage  I  will  write  again. 

U  ill  the  Postmistress  care  if  I  ask  some  of  the 
y  ruing  people  to  send  me  some  si  Ik  sera  [is  or  hi  is  of 
velvet  or  ribbon  for  my  sick  mamma?  she  wants 
to  make  my  little  brother  a  quilt  fur  a  keepsake. 
If  they  send  their  names.  I  will  send  ill  return 
some'  magnolia  leaves  and  tea  Mowers  this  sum- 
mer. LILLIAN  WALL. 

I  shall  think  a  great  deal  about  your  sick  mo- 
ther, Lillian,  and  I  hope  you  may  be  able  to  ex- 
change some  of  your  pressed  flowers  with  the 
girls  who  have  bits  of  silk  to  spare.  Can  your 
mamma  amuse  herself  by  reading,  or  does  that 
tire  her  ton  much  ?  Your  little  brother  must  be 
a  dear,  thoughtful  boy,  and  will  make  a  very 
good  man  if  he  grows  up  as  kind  and  unselfish  as 
he  now  is. 


SCMMIT.  Ulll'PK    IsLANP. 

I  am  nine  years  old.  I  have  two  brothers:  their 
names  are  Arthurand  Willis.  We  all  go  to  school ; 
we  all  like  the  teacher.  My  papa  attends  to  the 
depot,  and  my  mamma  telegraphs  most  of  the 
time.  We  had  some  skates  and  tools  last  Christ- 
mas. The  tools  we  have  are  a  hammer,  saw, 
screw-driver,  awl.  pincers,  bits,  anil  a  tile.  We 
had  sonic-  fun  on  the  ice  with  our  skates.  My 
papa  b.. light  me'  some  I ks.  I  like-  the  stories 

of    Htiti'nix'n    CrUSOi     and     Tin     .s'yr/>,s-    /',//„,///    /,'/,',,/,- 

son.    I  keep  house  when  my  mother  is  not   at 
home.     I  like  the  paper  very  much,  and  the-  sto- 
ries.    I  wish  Jimmy  Brown  would  write  soon. 
MK  II.  N. 


SPRING  VAMKV.  Nv\v  JKP.SKV. 

I  have  never  written  to  Yorxc.  PKOI-I.I:  In  lore. 
and  I  thought  1  ought  to,  as  I  have  been  taking 
it  a  loi)L.r  time.  I  have  t  \vo  sislers  and  t  liree  hro- 
thers.  We  live  on  a  farm  of  forty  acres.  Papa 
has  business  in  New  York,  so  is  away  through 
the  day.  lait  comes  home  at  night.  1  nave  been 
I, thirteen  years— ever  since  I  was  a  baby- 
but  am  under  the  care  of  a  skillful  siirireon  in 
New  York.  When  I  go  to  the  hospital  I  take 
the  Third  Avenue  road,  so  1  pass  Franklin  Si|it;ire 
My  brothers  and  I  do  the  farming. 

I  read  in  your  paper  that  you  would  like  to 
know  what  \  i  ,nr  hoys  do  be  to  re  school  and  after 

tin  \  n-  home      Before  we  go  to  school  1  milk 

lh'  e  i\vs  and  feed  them,  anil  my  brother  feeds 
the  hoi -se  and  goes  to  the  station  with  papa  My 
brother  Ceorge  has  an  excuse  should  he  conic 
late  lie  lets  me  go  on.  so  I  may  take  my  time. 
as  a  mile  is  quite  a  walk  fur  a  lame  boy  'in  the 
atternoon.  when  \\  e  come  home.  1  -it  \vooil  and 
coal  for  morning,  do  my  chores  around  i  he  harn. 
and  go  to  the  station  for  papa.  I  have  an  older 
brother,  who  has  graduated  from  school.  1  send 
a  wiggle.  HERBERT  II. 

If  a  lame  boy  can  accomplish  so  much,  and  he 
so  merry  and  cheerful  as  I  am  certain  Herbert 
is,  what  shall  we  expect  from  tin-  rest  of  the 
boys  who  can  run  and  jump  on  two  aethe  feet  . 


COHOI-    -.  i  .,    -.1 

I  am  a  little  girl  nearly  six  years  old.  I  have 
taken  HAIII-HII'S  YOTM.  PKOPLE  four  or  five  weeks, 
and  I  like  the  letters  the  best  o.  all.  Somebody 
reads  them  to  me,  because  I  can't  read  good  yet 
myself.  I  want  to  tell  you  about  my  two  little 
pi  i s.  my  little  Dickey,  and  my  little  Watch. first. 
If  you  put  your  two  hands  on  the  floor,  he'll  run 
and  bite  them,  and  he  will  tear  up  everythin" 

that  he  ean  get  hold  of.  My  little  Dickey  is  new 
since  I  had  the  scarlet  fever.  He  is  light  yellow. 
and  bathes  and  sinirs  nice  every  day.  I  am  L'oing 
away  for  a  little  visit  with  Nellie,  but  mamma  is 
going  to  take  Yorx<.  PIOI-I.I-  all  the  same  \]\ 
papa  broke  his  leg,  but  it  is  all  well  now.  and  this 
morning  I  rode  out  with  him. 

GRACIE  R.  (written  by  Lucy). 

POTTSVII  I.F-,    ?F  NVSM  VAMA. 

I  am  very  nearly  twelve  years  old.  I  have 
two  pets— a  cat  and  a  dug.  The  former  we  just 
call  Kitty,  but  she  is  two  years  old.  and  not  much 
like  her  name.  The  dug  is  Snip,  and  is  the  dear- 
est little  dog  you  ever  saw.  Besides  these  two 
pels  I  have  live  dolls— six  I  mean  (I  forgot  my 
new  one).  They  are  Minnie.  Daisy,  Pansy.  Ching- 
Wing, Ruth, and  Beth.  Ktith  and  Beth  are  two 
liltle  china  dolls,  Pansy  and  Daisy  are  French. 
Minnie  is  wax,  ami  Chiiig-Wing  a  Jap.  I  have 
one  sister  and  two  brothers.  I  made  fort v-sjx 
wi  in  Is  of  ••  ( irphanism."  I  received  six  valentines. 
and  all  were  very  pretty. 

We  had  two  canaries.  One  my  little  brother 
hurt  so  it  died  a!  t  In-  a  gc  of  ten.'  a  ml  the  other 
was  so  old  it  could  hardly  hop.  one  day  it  was 
out  of  its  caL'e.  and  niv  kitty  took  it  ill  her'muuth  ; 
il  \\as  so  friirhtened  that  it  died, at  twelve  \ears 
old.  They  would  each,  if  they  had  lived  till  now. 
have  been  thirteen  years  old. 


I  live-  one  mile  out  of  town,  and  as  it  is  snowing 
pretty  hard,  i  do  not  helicve  I  can  get  to  Sabbath- 
si  -hoi'il  i  his  afternoon.  I  say  my  lessons  at  home 
to  my  sister.  .My  studies  are  French.  Latin,  his- 
tory. \\  riling,  spelling,  grain  mar.  ideograph  y.  and 
mental  ami  written  arithmetic.  1  hope  yon  can 
read  my  writing.  Love  to  the  Postmistress  from 

FLORENCE  II. 

PUSSY  AND  THE  POLICEMAN. 
Once  there  was  a  little  pussy  cat.  and  it  went 
down-town,  and  it  met  a  policeman,  and  the  po- 
liceman said,  "  Where  are  yun  goi tig.  Miss  Puss \  '•" 
And  t  he  pussy  said,  "  I  am  going  down-town,  and 
I  am  hungry."  So  the  policeman  said.  "Come 
with  me.  and  1  \\ill  get  you  something  to  eat." 
So  he  took  her  away  down  to  the  station-In  nise. 
lint  t  he  pussy  cat  was  afraid  of  all  the  pul icemen 
sitting  with  their  chairs  leaning  against  the  wall. 
The  one  who  was  with  her  said,  "Don't  be  afraid  ; 
they  are  a II  friends  "  So  the  policeman  went  and 
got  an  apple  and  ^ra\e  it  to  the  pnssy.  |;nl  the 
pussy  said.  "  My  mamma  w<  -n't  let  me  eat  applt  s 
with  the  skin  on."  So  the  policeman  said.  "Oh  ! 
excuse  me."  And  he  got  a  knife  and  took  the 
skin  off,  and  then  the  pussy  ate  it  all  up.  Ami 
then  the  policeman  got  a  piece  of  bread  and  but- 
ter, and  the  pussy  ate  that  all  up  tuo  ;  and  that's 
Jill.  NAN. 

Nan  says  that  her  little  sister  Belle  told  this 
story  when  she  was  three  years  old.  It  is  a  very 
pretty  story. 

Al.LKCIIKNV.   1'KSVSYI  VAMA. 

My  papa  has  been  taking  Yin  x<,  Pi  on  i  I,  a-  us 
since  till1  first  number  was  issued,  and  we  like  it 
very  much.  After  I  come  Inline  1 r  inn  school  I  fly 
kites,  skate,  coast,  or  play  some  out-door  game. 
I  spend  about  half  an  bum- in  st inly  In  tin-  c\cn- 
iin:  I  must  In  ing  np  ni^lil  coal,  and  when  my  work 
is  done  I  generally  read.  .My  favorite  author  is 
Jacob  Abbott  I  have  read'  1  he  "  1,'olh.  Hunks" 
written  by  him.  and  several  uf  bis  histories.  I 
like  the  "  1,'oilo  Hooks"  I.est  <  Itle  o[  in  \  I  a  ',  orite 

Looks  is  'I'h,  Swiss  family  Sodinftfin.  .Myfavorite 
game  is  "  I  spy."  My  pleasanlcsl  winter  amuse- 
ment is  skatiiig.  EDWIN  s.  E. 


NEWBOKOUGR,  OKTABIO. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  and  have  I  iei  n 
living  the  last  year  in  Ncwbi M-uiich.  Ontario.  I 
have  one  lit  tie  brother,  Lyn.  six  years  old.who  has 

I, ei  11  in  the  house  lor  a  week  with  the  mumps. 
I  have  one  little  baby  sister  nearly  three  \ears 
old  ;  her  name  is  Edith  McCorcl.  Weall  Jovi  hi  r 
and  pet  her  vcrv  much 

My  auntie  Belle,  who  lives  in  Jamaica.  We-t  In 
dies,  sent  me  Ynrxi;  PKUI-LI:  fur  a  Christinas  prc 
sent.  I  l.ave  a  grandma  whu  lives  across  the 
ruad  from  here,  and  a  i  ml  her  one  \\  ho  lives  in  Tu- 
ronto.when  v.  i  used  to  live.  Mamma  and  I  went 
to  see  her  last  sii  miner,  a  lid  I  hope  we  will  go 
and  sec  her  next  summer.  I  have  been  piling  to 

sel 1  all  winter,  and  am  in  the  Third  Book.     I 

am  writing  Ihis  letter  all  myself.  1  hope  you  will 
print  Ihis.  for  I  want  to  send  it  to  my  papa,  who 
is  in  St.  John,  New  Brunswick.  LOTTIE  I',,  c 


V,M    MA,    Nk\V     YoP.I,. 

I  am  nine  years  old.  and  have  been  wanting  to 
write  to  you  fora  long  lime,  but  I  was  afraid  you 
would  not  prim  m>  letter.  I  think  Jinn.. y  Brown's 
stories  are  very  funny.  I  have  a  dog;  his  name 
is  Jack  :  he  is  a  i  e-rdon  set  ter  pa  pa  hoiight  a. 
harness  for  him.  and  I  have  trained  him  to  it.  I 
harness  him  to  my  sled,  and  lie  draws  me  all 
around  on  the  ice  and  snow  1  am  studying  at 
home  this  winter  with  mamma,  but  am  going  to 
.school  in  the  summer.  AMY  B.  P. 


CHAN I..  X  1  M    .li  i  si  i 

As  1  have  not  seen  any  letters  from  our  town. 
I  thought  that  I  would  write  one.  I  have  a  goat 
named  Itillie  that  1  drive  around  in  summer,  and 
I  bare  a  Cochin  China  hen.  and  1  used  to  have  a 
canary  bird,  hut  hi'  died  a  te\\  weeks  .-IL'U  There 
is  a  squirrel  out  in  the  yard  in  the  trees  that  I 
would  like  to  get  and  keep  for  a  pet,  if  I  could 
catch  him.  We  have  a  little  brown  do-:  and  a 
great  big  mastiff:  the  little  on,',  which  we  call 
Snip,  is  very  jealous  of  the  big  one.  whose  name 
is  Frank,  and  one  day  he  shook  Snip  up  so  that  Ill- 
does  not  trouble  him  quite  80  much.  Hike"  l,Vg" 
very  much,  hut  Jimmy  p.rown's  stories  arc  the 
best  of  all.  I  am  eh  ven  years  old.  and  a  buy 

E.  A  IB. 

Please  don't  catch  the  squirrel,  dear.  He  pre- 
fers to  race  nbuut  in  the  trees  tu  being  a  buy's 
pet.  You  may  admire  him  as  much  in  his  free- 
dom as  you  could  in  a  cage. 


M  Macs    I  '"I   VT\  .  Ur.VGON. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  Salem,  tin- 
capital  of  our  stale,  is  only  eighteen  miles  from 
here.  The  Willamette  1,'iver.  on  which  it  is  situ- 
ated, is  only  a  few  miles  from  here,  and  is  a  very 
pretty  river.  Portland,  the  largest  ,-iiy  in  , .in- 
State,  is  forty  miles  north.  We  live  in  I  he  coun- 
try, and  the  railroad  runs  through  onr  farm. 
Papa  and  mamma  otten  uu  in  Porllami  on  the 
cars,  and  I  have  been  there  several  I  hues. 

There  are  some  very  pretty  hills  near  here,  ami 
part  of  the  time  this  winter  they  were  covered 


APRIL  10.  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


307 


with    -now       On    :i  clear  dav  Mount 

IIiniil  nine  .if  Hie  hU'hest  n mains  in  tht-  1'nil- 

niniitisalwa 
ered  w  ith  -n  i'.v    Papahasa  lari;e  farm,  ami  rai-< -s 

1  ]]l»P  head    of 

.  •(!  lie  spring-time.  and  in. -n  I 

,  •_"'  I'll!   i"  tilt;  tii-lil  ami   walch  tin-  liltle 

play.     I  iiii'-i-  hail  a  pel   lainh.  anil  il  L'n-w 

so  larire  that  I  turned  it  out  wild  tin-  rest  ot  the 

Irr,.  leal  during  the  winter  here,  BO 

We   ha\e   II   '  -a  lie' I   Wei 'feet,  lult   I  think  lire:."  'II 

is    l.lie    III     the     he-l     Stilted    Icj    live    ill.        Two     \ears 

axr"  I  went  il  .wit  lii  Oakland,  Calif*  irnia.  tn  L'O  In 

scl 1         While    tllel-e    I    iit'teh    Went     In   San    I   1    11 

ci-eo     i  ii  i  -.  •- 1  ii-en  ai  Woodward  Garden,    i  -aw 

in. HI-,    wonderful    things  there.      1    have   a    Bister 

I  wel\e  \.jr-  i  ill  I.  anil  we  i-ai-h  have  a  hoi 

sail  Hi-,  a M- I  in  plea-ant  '.veal her  we  often  i:«  •  n: 

riilini:.     Tin-  winl'-r  \v  have  a  L'overiies-      We 

i  Steinway  piano,  and  we  both  take  music 

We  ha\'    '  -I  named  Mildred. 

an- 1  w-  have  I- its  oi'  fun  swinging  and  playing  to- 

eelhit         I     r    ad     \"i   M.     I'lol-IK    every     week.       ] 

like  the   -I'iry  nf  "  Nan"  ami   Iln-  I'-llers  in  onr 
l'".|  i, Hi, -r  Hi ix  very  much.  liMiruriii:  11. 

CLA\Tf»«,  ALABAMA. 

I  am  sorry  that  inv  t.-aeher  is  too  -i.-k  t,,  eonie 
i  -  'lav  Sly  I  \vo  ol'ler  brother*  have 

gum-  a  li-hinir.  -o   I   will  s|n-!i'l  -"i I  inv  lime 

intly  by  wrltine  to  yon      We  are  all  In  icive 
with  IlARriR'sYouNO  PEOPLE,  which  conn 
Thursday,    inn-  week,  when  papa  gave  me  the  pa- 
per   h-    -  i  i-l     '  I  '-  • 

yet  "     111  course  In-  knew  -he  wa-  t  ril  t  hf  il  I.  anil 
\\ ,  ,u    I  '  -  -mi-  out  i h       I  -,\ ,  ,11!  I  lik-    I-  •  I  -111  t  hi- 
ll,Hi-                         n.  though  I  ean  not  -eml  any 
UM-III!  i  -    -             ii   cooking  :  Inn  iiiaiiiin  - 
1 1\'.  anil  kin  i\v  h'  -•• 

I     Mill     lell  I  -I'-     pille 

w i-  near  m\    papa's  saw-mill.     I  wi'l  write 

-,,in,-  Mm-   and  t i-il  in \  city  cousins  hov  i 
my  time  in  the  big  v Is  ANNA  Lor  D. 

You  may  join  the  Little  Housekeeper^.  Anna. 
I  like  to  hear  i ti:i '  \  "'i  keep  your  room  in  nice 
order  That  i-  -'in-  -ix'ii  that  y.ii  an 


I  now  have  a  pet  rooster,  which  I  raised  my- 
When  i  lir.-t  L'ot   it   I    had    I"  teed  il        Now 

row  n  \  ery  large,  and  will  follow  me  wher- 
ever I  L".  and  e\ery  day  \\hen  we  eat  dinner  it 
to  the  dining-room  poreh  and   pi'  ks  on 
the  window  until  we  LT  il  our  dinner. 

It  will  eat  eake.and  almost  anything  sweet. and 
drinks  tea  and  coffee  instead  "t  water. 

I  also  ha\e  a  pet  alligator,  hrou^'lit  to  me  from 
i  iasi  August.    I  thought. perhaps,  when  1 
t.i-i  _'ot  him  thai  he  nii^'ht  die  durimr  the  fall  or 
winter,  as  our  climate  is  eolder  than  Flo;-i 
he  is  living,  and  as  li\ely  as  when  lie  wa-  tir-t 
-t   to  onr  holm-       He  will  eat  only  \\hen  in 
water,  and  d  - 

M -,    liltl.-  i -in  iiti-.  who  reads  your 

had  a  I  leant  it  111  w  hite  and  yellow  hunny.  Inn  l  In- 

I r  I  hi  nil  died,  and  it  was  I  mi  led  ill  the  j 

on  Monday  last. 

And  now.  dear  1'ostmistress.  I  mu-t  sa  \ 

-I  I  only  wish  that  every  girl  and  hoy  in  our 
city  would  suhscribc  tor  HAISI-I  a:  -  \<u 
IM.K  WILLIE  F.  L. 

AlKRfl  1  -.   P  o.      T  I 

I  thoiiL-lit  you  would  like  to  hear  from  a  liltle 
girl    in    llakota.      I    have    taken    your    paper    two 

ami  have  n.-ver  written  to  you  before      I 
nly  pel  I  lia\  ••  is  a 

.Malte-e  kitten      I  had  a  beautiful  sim.'cr    a  I'ird 

the  kitten  killed  him       I  was  sorry,  lull  we 

had  him  -til (Ted.     I  think  "  Nan"  is  a  lovely  -lory . 

lio-v   Ii    I ' 


As  I  i 
I  t  IM  Mi-lit  I  w  ou Id  write  one.      My  aunt  ie  in  New 

^  -  -I  l,    --nil-  111,-  'I  "I    -. ,.   I'Kol-l.K.  and    I  like  the  I'osf- 

.  .in  ,    Box  very  much.     I  want  to  tell  the  i -hi  Mi-en 
ail,  int  the  prairie-dogs fi 

small  amni.il-  .dioul  as  large  a"  a  little  pii| 
their      ,  l  - 

lloll-es   near  eaell  other,       l-'il  -! 

Ih.     ::i    Hind,  then  pile  .-arth  around   in  the  shape 

ol  a  in.  inn- 1  .  t  h--\  ha\  -    a  door  at  "i" 

Lin  ii  of  ground       When   thcv 

hear  a  i i  thej  all  run  up  on  top  of  their  1 -es 

an-l  stand  "ii  Iheir  hind  leus  :nid  I'ark  tor  a  luiiir 

tlmi        M-.    IT,,' n, -r  and    I   I  ri'-d  lo  i-atel .hut 

it  ran  into  it-  house.    I  have  a  In-other  Arthur  and 
a  si-ter  Nellie.     Nellie  and   I  ha\  e  Hirer  dolls.     I 

am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.    c 1-hy. 

•          RAE    T. 


Niw   Y..I-.V  I-ITV. 

I  have  a  I >roi  her  almost  nine  years  old      I  l  hink 
"  Nan"  ended  splendid  I •>  ye  had  many 

- 
think  tin-  "h'ai-iiiL'  lln       !  _'"im_r  t"  he 

The  only  pel    we  I 

nam.  'I    Dai-v      Shi-    will    not    eat    her   lin 
until   we  sit   down.     Mamma  i:a\e  her  a 

..  and    -In     would    no!    lake  a  hit    until  we 

S  N  M  I      II 

\  \  It 

w  i 
I  have  I  a  ken  y  mr  I'aper  sin.-e  1,,-t  AiiL-n-t .  and 

ell     I'llt     I  W'  '    let  lei'-    f  I''  Mil     1  i 

i-     I     would    wrt ie        I    Dlsil    take    the 

.  and   ha\  e  -.    nilln- 

her  ol    ea.  h    pal"  r.     You  V"U    wanted   the 

i  --ons 

lie  I k-  Ol 

and  IllSton        M>  ill"'  aiini-.  lin  n!  I-  r-  .el 
i-  marl'!'  -       I  w  a-  \  ei  - 
•  ,"  Imt   was  sorry  Ilia' 

I    hope  Hie  allll. 

mure.  \Vn.i  IAMO  II 


N  1 1-  v  V  1 1  i  i  -,     i 

All  the  little  uirls  nnd  hoys  write  ahout  their 
pel-.  -"  I  am  L'-'in-T  I"  say  S'lmethin:.'  dlffl 
[  li\  r  iii  \,i  [,  i  \  alley.  \Ve  li\  e  "ppo-ite  I  he  In- 
sail--  \-\llllli:  I  here  are  twelve  till  I  111  red  pat  ien!  - 
there  and  live  liltle  idiols,  and  it  would  make 
your  In -a  rt  arhe  to  see  them.  Kvery  I-'ri-  lay  lliullt 

there  Is  n  dunce,  and  the  crazy  people  dann-     n 

i-  a  \  i  i  \  -1  ran  ire  si  ^}  it  t  "  see  t  hem  da  tieiiiLT       One 

liiir  u'irl  nai I  Dora  .-ried  out  loud  because  no 

hody  wolllil  danee  wilh  hi-r.      1  u'o  over  very  ol't 

en  I,,  see  i  In-  doctor's  little  irirl.  I  used  to  In- 
afraid  of  ilie  crazy  I pie,  bin  I  am  not  now. 

My  In-other  walks  lo  Napa   to   seliool  ;    mamma 

teaches  at   home.     My  In-other  and   I   have 

tline  doirs  and  one  eat:  the  do^s'  nani>  i-- 
I.oal.-r.  I'.ammer.  and  Tramp,  and  the  e  it's  name 
is  Till  ley  Winks.  We  had  a  roo-ler  nani,-il  i  ,-  ,  irge 
Washington,  Imt  we  ate  him  one  Sunday  for  din- 
ner. Some  days  we  ^et  one  hundred  eirirs.  This 
is  my  lirst  letter,  and  I  hope  you  will  pnlili-h  it. 

15KTTit:  M. 


I  am  one  of  the  toy  readers  of  HARPER'S  Yor\<; 
PF.OPI.I:  My  patia  lias  been  takiiur  your  paper 
lor  mi-  -iiiei-  1^:1.  when  "The  Brave  Swiss  |;,,y" 
was  iml.li-lieil.  I  have  now  on  hand,  nieely  done 

lip.  I!  .'  papers  of  HARPKK'S  Yot'NG  PEOPI.K.  and  It 
seem-  lo  iin-  I  never  t'et  tired  looking  over  them. 
I  have  read  so  many  nice  little  letters  from  so 
many  nire  little  people  ahout  the  pets  they  have 
that  I  must  tell  volt  ahout  some  pets  I  have  had. 
since  our  Postmistress  said  she  would  like  to  hear 
from  her  boys  who  take  the  paper.  I  had  a  lovely 

pair  of  I 'nie-i;   they   were   very  beautiful  and 

while  I  had  them  for  some  time.  I  also  had 
eninea -piir-.  and  i^ave  them  plenty  to  eat.  I  had 
a  tine  eoal.  with  a  bui^y  and  express  waLron  to 

rid it   in.     Mv  L'oat  was  nieely  trained,  and  I 

kept  him  two  years  Whenever  we  went  to  the 
country  my  papa  would  have  him  taken  al,in>,> 
too  I  had  some  line  sport  with  him.  I  sold  him 
not  lom,'  an"  to  a  nice  little  boy  who  takes  itooil 
care  of  him. 


I  am  a  liltle  Iloosier  cirl.     T  suppose  vm  don't 

1 

I'.ox  ''     I  have  a  d:i '  -  p  I   me  \  onr 

-inias  aift.     1  am  t  welve 

year-  old.  I  L'"  to  -eh,,,.!,  and  -t  inly  arithmetic, 
L'rammar.  ireouraphy.  readim:.  wriliiiL'.  spelling'. 
and  hislon  .  1-tudyniu-i-  athomi  M  \  mamma 
teaches  the  primar\  L'rade  hen-  :  -he  ha-  se\  >  m  \ 
liltle  one-.  AI -i  all  MUM  in  Ie  fulks  I'll  about 

their  pet-  I  ll.-|\c  t\\o.  wllil-ll  I  think  will  ei  111 
pile  w  it  h  ;in\  one'-  a  -fat  I'i-  I 'lack  c:M  named 
-now  !,all.  and  a  pretty  litlle  Mack  hi-n  nainivl 
.lett\-.  Snowball  is  liy  me  no\\  I  have  a  nice 
L'randmolher.  She  likes  to  work  your  pn/./.les, 

especially  tho-c  which  have  anylhine  al t   i.'"1- 

'  'L'rapll\-  "  Kc-"  \\as  a  title  -ti  .r\  ;  I  \\  a-  deliirht- 
ed  "  itli  it  I  think  tii  -,in--  a-  Flora  i  '  M  ahout 
our  I'o-tmi-lless.  .MM  UK  I,. 


LAND 

I   like  Yorxii   PEOPLE   very  inin-h.     "Nan."  I 
think,  wa-  a  \.-rv  nice  story.     I  am  seven   jea.TS 
old.  and   have    jn-t    |i-;irned   to  write       I    I 
liltle  brother  Ihree  \c!ir-  old  who  is  very  funny. 
I  ha\  c  I'oiir  cat-  :  one  has  six  litlle  kitten-  ;  t  hcy 

areverj  -"it  ami  pr.-ttv     The  lit  tie  L-irl  n.-\t  it • 

i-  my  constant  playmate  ;  her  name  i-  Susie  '     II 
l.ood  py.  .Il  NMI-:  1;    (I. 

.1  \  Mi-o\.  —  If  you  will  send  your  real  name  and 
address  to  Messrs  Harper  A:  P.rothers  (  Ad vertis- 
ini;  Di-partment).  Franklin  Square,  New  York. 
thej  will  communicate,  with  yon  on  the  subject 
of  your  letter 

run  —Either  the  choir  leader  or  the  organist 
of  the  chureli  you  attend  will  srivc  you  advice  on 
the  subject  of  which  you  speak.  No  musical  in 
st  rnnicnt  can  be  mastered  without  patience  and 
labor. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  hnve  been  received 
from  Arabi  Hey.  Frank  S.  Clark,  Bertie  Ilrown. 
Sydney  Ilounsfield.  Mary  L.  E..  Emily  Talhot, 
Lottie  S  .  Ralph  Farlow.  Clara  K..  Sherman  K. 
Hart.  .Inlia  II.  L  c;..  Carl  W  .  \Viilfielil  Armour. 
Josie  r.arnes.  Louisa  Tuttle.  William  Smith.  Fred 
and  Frank,  A.  C.  D..  Meteor.  Princess  Daisy,  Ed- 


L'ar  Secmall.  C  <e'ld-mitll.  I'.crtie  IV.  Rose  .Pick- 
soil.  Molly  Orr.  K  N.  luma.  Arthur  and  l-li-ri -in  e, 
Fannie  Kow  lev.  \\  illiam  llarnnati.  t  •  i  il  i  nrti-s, 
Annie  Iteam.  Klsie  siarr.  .lohn  Coe,  I  harlie  I-', 
-  !  i  r-irtei .  ilarrv  K  .  -lohn  A  inslic,  i  ln--tcr 
and  Frank  \  i  Fred  Arthur. 


PUZ/.I.ES  FROM  YorXH  CONTIUHUTORS. 
No.  1. 

A    i  ,  ill  la\  SI-ION    P1AJIOM)    IT/.XI.K. 
/  /'/"  ' 

1  liamoiiil.—  1    A  letter.     '.'   An  article      :!. 
A  kimloi  jri-ain.    4.  Fart  of  the  bod]      :,    A  letter. 

s.-ci-ml  liiainoiiil  1  A  consonant.  2,  A  mea- 
,]..\\  a  Small  L'loliuics.  -I.  \  \erli.  ."'  A  letter. 

Third  Diamond.     1.  A  letter.     -,'.  An  animal      .: 

_  M  l-         I     I'.etiire        .',.     \    \  o\\  i   1 
Jti'/'/f.    llinr. 

Fir-t  Diamond.— 1.  A  letter,  i.  A  Latin  word 
mcaiiiui.-  pray.  .'i.  Snares  I.  An  animal  .,  \ 
letter. 

Second  Diamond.  I.  Aconsonanl  •-'  Goddess 
of  mischief.  .",.  A  waii;ht.  I  romliisioii  .,  \ 
vowel 

Third  Diamond.— 1.  A  vowel,  t>.  Metal.  3.  To 
coil-ode.  I.  A  fill's  name  :.  A  \owcl. 

Tliii-'l  l:<m: 

First  Diamond.  1.  \  <-i  ii-..nant .  L'  A  knot.  3. 
A  kilchen  utensil.  -I.  (  io-e  of  the  day.  a.  A 
rowel 

See., ml  Diamond  -!.  A  vowel,  e.  To  join.  :!. 
A  hoy's  mime  I.  To  expiie  :-  \  \ow.-l 

Third  Diamond.  1.  A  vowel.  •„'.  To  mistake. 
:t  utien-i  j  \se.ptie  :.  v  con-. -nan! . 

l.nMIMi;  C.  W. 


No.  •-'. 
m:m  MUM.-    vM)  rruTAii.iM. s 

I     p.,  Ii,  ail  an   animal,  and  L-I  I   si  and  him.'  lor  a 
In  .at  :  curia  il.  and  L'd  a  serpeiM 

I--  -  -  .1  i  Bugral  Ion,  and  •-•  t  anu-er  ;  cur- 

tail    and  gel   a  1  i'i  i 

.    i   i n, il  i  ronoun.  ami  -.-t  a  per- 

,  -N  1 1  |  IK  iiiiiiin  ;  curtail,  and  iri  I  am  'I  hi  r 

I    Hi  In  ad  a  '•' -m.  and  Lr'  I  a  lar-e  Imal  ;  eitrtail. 
and  i-'el  to  injure. 

a    Heliead  a  part  of  a  yerh.  anil  L'<  t    a    numeral 
-,  e  :  curlail.  and  ^'et  allot  In  r  verb 

KIM.  i  'IIAUI  i 


No.  :: 

TWO    IM'.MAS. 

1    Mv  first  i-  in  toe.  but  not  in  row. 

\l\  second  i-  m  \\  hole,  but  not  in  roll. 
M\   i  hird  i-  in  feast.  Inn  mil  in  fast. 

\l\   fourth  i-  in  I I.  but  not  in  last. 

My  tiflh  is  in  study,  but  not  in  play 
\l      -ixih  is  in  hoi--'-,  but  not  in  sli  JL'h. 
\l  .     <  \  i  ii!  1 1  is  in  dark,  but  not  in  light. 
My  eighth  i-  in  -In -iiL'th.  bill  not  in  might. 
My  whole  i-  a  hoy's  name. 

A  RI  mi:  S    Mi  DOWELU 

2.  In  croup,  not  in  loop. 
lu  Ircight.  not  in  plate. 
In  beau,  not  in  l»i 
In  pray,  not  in  neiirh. 
In  loach   not  in  n,m  h 
In  nk'ht.  not  in  kite, 

My  whole  is  a  thing  in  which  children  delight,. 

NAN. 


No.  4. 
Tiinr.i;  Kssy  si.uAnES. 

1.—  1.  TO  lli.sci  I'll.      -'    A  fish.      3.  A  tree. 

FRANK  I!i:i:n. 

2.—  1.  A  girl's  name,    'J.  An  adverb.    :',  Not  old. 

1  i.ii'*    L.  s. 


3_1.  To  correct  for  publication,    a.  A 
name.     :!.  The  rainbow.    -I.  Ales-mi 

I'  s.  \VI:SCOTT. 


'.  L'KS  TO  ITZZLES  IN  No.  IT 

W 
DAN 

HELEN 

BERT    R    A  M 

A   (1   A  M    E   M    N   O  N 

WALTERSCOTT 

SEBASTIAN 

M    I-:    I!    CADE 

F   R   O   T  II 

ETA 

T 


No  2   B-r-ace.   C-h-air.  C-li-arm.  c  h  cat.  D-r-ilL 
M-a-lady.    P-l-ease.    P-l-over. 

No.  3. 


Ulysses.     Heliotrope. 


The  answer  to  "Who  Was  He?"  on  page 
of  No.  178  is  William  Penn. 


[for  Ki-c/iin,f/-  •'      '  -.'-/  "/"/  M  pages  ofcmer.^ 


368 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


AFTER    THE    PARTY. 

"  Surely  you'vo  not  iraxltfd  tliis  Morniiiir,  Tommy?" 
"Nn.  Mamma!     I  was  in  Bed  so  late  last  Night  that  I  didn't 
think  I  required  it!" 


SAVED  PROM  FIRE  BY  A  DOG. 

BY  MARTIN  ROBSON. 

ABOUT  a  month  ago  a  dog,  whose  master  is  Mr.  Ifenry  Gowcr. 
an  insurance  agent,  living  at  Maldon,  Essex  County,  Eng- 
land, made  his  way  into  Ihe  house  through  a  hole  leading  to  the 
shed  where  he  slept,  and  awoke  his  master  by  jiiinjiing  on  tin- 
bed,  licking  his  face,  and  whining.  He  also  pulled  at  the  bed- 
clothes, and  altogether  behaved  in  such  a  way  that  his  master 
was  annoyed,  and  sent  him  off  with  a  scolding. 

A  minute,  afterward  he  returned,  and  went  through  the  same- 
actions,  tearing  away  at  the  bedclothes  so  wildly  that  his  mas- 
ter arose  for  the  purpose  of  shutting  him  out.  The  dog  capered 
about  with  evident  pleasure  at  having  got  his  master  to  rise,  and 
Mr.  Gowcr.  crossing  the  room  to  shut  the  door,  saw  iu  the  oppo- 
site windows  the  reflection  of  fire. 

He  immediately  hurried  on  his  clothes,  called  his  children  (  his 
wife  was  from  home  at  the  time),  and  took  such  steps  to  call  the 
lire  brigade  together  that  the-  lire,  which  had  begun  in  a  shed 
close  to  where  the  dog  slept,  was  soon  put  out,  and  all  danger  at 
an  end.  Thus  was  saved  from  destruction  not  only  Mr.  Gow  er's 
house-,  but  several  buildings  close  by  in  which  were  stored  the 
gunpowder  stocks  of  two  iron-mongers  and  a  gunsmith.  Under 
the  guidance  of  Providence  the  little  dog's  action  was  the  means 
of  saving  many  thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of  property.  He  is 
of  mixed  breed,  but  looks  like  a  .Scotch  terrier,  ami  rejoices  in 
the  unusual  name  of  Brail. 


THE  NAME  PUZZLE. 

BY   0.  B.  BARTLETT. 

AMONG  the  many  ways  of  conveying  information  by  a  secret 
process  none  is  better  than  the  following  very  simple  meth- 
od, which  has  been  very  rarely  found  out. 

One  person  is  sent  out  of  the  room,  and  the  rest  of  the  com- 
pany fix  upon  some  word  or  sentence  for  him  to  guess.  This 
may  be  the  name  of  some  article  iu  the  room,  some  event  of  his- 
tory, or  some  little  story.  On  his  return  a  number  of  questions 
is  asked  him  by  some  person  who  is  acquainted  with  the  trick, 
and  the  article  is  guessed  by  the  player  as  soon  as  it  is  mentioned. 

The  secret  of  this  is  that  he  knows  that  the  selected  article  will 
always  be  named  to  him  just  after  some  article  which  begins 
with  the  first  letter  of  his  own  name.  This  of  course  might  soon 
be  found  out  by  the  rest  of  the  company  if  the  first  letter  of  the 
name  was  used  several  times  in  succession.  Instead  of  doing 
this,  the  questioner  uses  the  first  letter  only  once,  and  when  the 
guesser  returns  for  the  second  time  he  knows  that  the  second 
letter  of  his  name  will  be  used. 

When  the  Christian  name  has  all  been  spelled  they  must  go 
on  to  the  middle  name,  which  is  used  also  one  letter  after  an- 
other, and  then  the  last  name  is  treated  in  the  same  way. 

An  example  may  he.lp  the  little  ones  to  understand  the  easy 
though  pu/zling  method  of  playing  the  game.  Frank  Walker 
Jones  we  will  suppose  to  be  the  name  of  the  gnesser  who  is  sent 
out  of  the  room,  and  the  word  chosen  for  him  to  guess  first  may 
be  "orange."  The  questions  are  to  be  asked  by  George,  and 
when  Frank  enters  he  begins  to  question  him  as  follows:  Is  it 
that  picture  ?  Is  it  a  hat?  Isitalamp?  Is  it  an  apple?  Is 
it  a  tig?  Frank,  being  on  the  watch  for  the  first  letter  of  his 
name,  knows  that  the  next  word  will  be  the  right  one.  so  says 
"  Yes"  the  moment  orange  is  mentioned. 

They  may  next  choose  "  .Sindbad."  and  George  may  ask.  Is  il  a 
book?  No.  A  piece,  of  music?  No.  Is  it  a  lig  .'  No.  Is  it  a 
monkey?  No.  Is  it  Blue-beard  ?  No.  Kohinson  Crusoe  ?  No. 
Siudbad?  Yes.  The  next  time  George  may  inform  him  by  using 
an  apple,  then  by  Napoleon,  then  kangaroo,  and  so  on.  After 
Ibis  he  can  use  the  middle  and  last  name  in  (he  same-  manner. 


CUT    TWO    PIECES    THE    SIZE    OP    EACH    OF    THESE,   AND 
OUT    OF    THE    FOUR    MAKE    A    SQUARE. 


iiffl 

^•' 


& 

^swtti.  BlrV  of ,  /  >  -        '\  j- 


WILLIE'S    DREAM   AFTER    THE    SHOW. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


*- 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV. -NO.  181. 


PUBLISHED  i-.v   HARPER  &  P.ROTIIERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   C?ENTS. 


Tuesday,  April  17,  IKS'). 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HAKPBK  A  BUOTKKRS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


' 


A    SMALL    BUT    SELECT    AUDIENCE. 


A  DECIDED  MISTAKE. 

BY  E.  I.  STKVKNSON. 

T  HERE  isonepart  of  Sands 
Moffafs  life  to  which,  like 
many  another  liny,  lie  can 
never  look  bark  without  sa\ 
ing  In  hiniself.  "Don't  I  wish 
I  could  just  go  over  it  again  !" 
l!y  "  il"  Sands  means  his  six 
years  at  Dr.  Portress's  school 
in  Mount  Sparta. 

Sands  and  his  friends  there 
\\  ere.  in  fact,  a  very  jolly  lit 
tie  crowd.  The  tall  brick 
school  building,  standing  on 
a  height  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
out  of  the  village,  was  sunny 
and  roomy  and  rambling.  Its 
big  garden  was  a  complete 
happy  hunting  ground  to  the 
boys,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
school  play-ground, the  gym- 
nasium, and  the  bowling-al- 
ley, all  fitted  up  in  the  new- 
est style. 

There  was  always  enough 
whooping  and  general  rack- 
et from  them  to  convince  peo- 
ple passing  that  hard  play  as 
well  as  hard  study  must  be 
the  fashion  of  the  school. 
Regularly  once  a  week  stout 
old  Dr.  Portress  was  obliged 
to  say  to  some  anxious  fa- 
ther, "Why,  my  dear  sir,  if 
the  youngsters  '11  only  get 
their  Latin  verbs  as  they  do 
now,  and  the  answers  to  their 
problems,  they  can't  make 
too  much  noise  for  me."  It 
seemed  as  if  they  tried  to. 

Sands  himself,  Fred  Traft, 
Hugh  Black,  and  Chess  Bur- 
nett made  up  what  they  called 
The  League,  "Offensive  and 
Defensive.''  Their  hands 
were  never  known  to  be 
against  any  one,  nor  any 
one's  hands  against  them. 


370 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


But  what  of  that  ?  it  was  a  league  all  the  same.  Yet  stop ; 
when  I  say  never,  I  mean — hardly  ever.  And  the  single 
exception  chanced  thus: 

One  late  autumn  afternoon  Traft,  Black,  and  Burnett 
had  gone  chestnutting,  leaving  Sands  to  entertain  him- 
self. Truth  to  tell.  Sands  had  been  invited  to  stay  in  after 
school  hours  to  become  better  acquainted  with  his  United 
States  History  lesson.  When  he  came  out  he  found  the 
other  three  had  sorrowfully  deserted  him.  Sands  got  his 
Life  of  Paul  Jones,  and  sat  down  under  one  of  the  big 
willows.  Five  or  six  small  boys  belonging  to  the  school 
were  lounging  around  the  other  end  of  the  bench.  Pre- 
sently Sands  became  aware  that  one  of  these  was  telling 
to  the  rest  a  story  much  more  wonderful  than  anything 
in  his  book.  There  seemed  to  be  enough  information  in 
it  about  what  the  story-teller  called  "ghosts  and  hobgob- 
lins and  witches"  to  stock  all  the  foolish  old  nurses  in  the 
land.  The  little  boys  stood  listening,  with  excited  faces. 
Sands  dropped  Paul  Jone.fi,  and  marched  up  to  the  story- 
teller. 

"  I  say,  Brown  Junior,"  he  exclaimed,  "  where  did  you 
read  all  that  precious  stuff,  eh  ?  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself  for  remembering  it." 

Brown  Junior  blushed.  ''I  didn't  read  it  at  all,"  he 
answered,  after  some  hesitation.  "  Belfort  told  it  to  some 
of  us  last  night." 

"Told  it  to  some  of  you  last  night,  did  he?"  repeated 
Sands,  angrily.  "So  Belfort  is  at  his  old  tricks,  putting 
ridiculous  nonsense  into  the  heads  of  you  fellows  on  the 
sly  ?  I  thought  the  Doctor  gave  him  a  sound  warning  on 
that  subject  last  term." 

"Yes,  sir,"  spoke  another  little  fellow  in  the  group. 
"But  he  keeps  on  telling  us  the  stories,  after  tea,  in  the 
prayer  hall,  every  evening.  On  Tuesday  Tommy  Gautier 
was  afraid  to  go  upstairs  alone." 

"I  wasn't  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  Tommy,  indig- 
nantly. "  I  only  — 

"Well,  never  mind,"  continued  Sands.  "Afraid  or 
not  afraid,  Belfort  has  got  to  stop  frightening  you  little 
fellows.  Just  remember  that  whatever  he  says  isn't  true 
— not  one  word  of  it.  There  never  was  such  a  thing  as 
a  ghost.  No  boy  ever  saw  one,  and  never  will,  either. 
Now  run  off,  the  whole  pack  of  you ;  and  not  another 
story  of  Tad  Belfort's  do  you  let  me  catch  you  retailing, 
Brown  Junior,  or  it  '11  be  unlucky  for  your  ears." 

The  little  boys  ran  off,  and  began  punting  about  the 
foot-ball.  Sands  sat  still,  in  a  brown-study.  All  at  once 
he  laughed  heartily.  Then  he  joined  the  foot-ball  players. 

The  chestn utters  returned  an  hour  before  tea-time,  well 
pleased  with  their  full  bags.  Sands  beckoned  Traft,  Black, 
and  Burnett  around  the  corner  of  the  bowling-alley  di- 
rectly he  saw  them.  "Look  here,  you  fellows,"  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "Tad  Belfort's  been  at  his  old  tricks  again, 
frightening  the  second-form  boys  out  of  their  wits  with 
what  he  calls  ghost  stories." 

"Has  he ?     The  scamp !"  exclaimed  Burnett. 

"And  that,  too,  after  the  lecture  the  Doctor  gave  him 
last  year!"  exclaimed  Black. 

"And.  you  see,  the  Doctor  isn't  likely  to  hear  anything 
about  it  for  a  good  while,"  pursued  Sands,  "for  of  course 
nobody's  going  to  tell  him.  So  I  thought — 

"That  we  ought  to  do  something,  and  put  a  stop  to  it 
ourselves?"  inquired  Traft.  quickly.  "Good  boy,  Sandsey. 
Long  may  you  wave!" 

"But  how  shall  we  manage  it?"  "What's  the  plan?" 
exclaimed  Sands's  three  friends,  in  lower  voices. 

"  Haven't  I  been  planning  it  half  the  afternoon?  Bel- 
fort  not  only  talks  about  his  rubbishy  old  ghosts,  but  he 
believes  in  them  too — don't  he?" 

"Of  course  he  does,  the  precious  idiot!"  answered  Traft, 
with  a  very  wry  face,  having  just  bitten  into  a  very  wormy 
chestnut. 

"  Very  well,  then.      He  sleeps  alone  in  the  corner  room 


of  the  third  floor — Shafer's  old  room— and  there  isn't  any 
master,  and  only  two  other  fellows,  on  that  floor.  We'll 
just  fix  ourselves  up  to-night— you,  Traft,  Burnett,  Black, 
and  myself — as  near  to  what  ghosts  ought  to  look  like,  if 
there  happened  to  be  any,  as  we  can.  Somebody  must 
get  leave  to  run  down  to  the  village  for  four  white  masks 
before  tea.  After  the  last  bell  for  lights  out,  you  fellows 
must  slip  around  to  Traft's  and  my  room.  Late  enough — 
say  by  about  twelve  o'clock — when  the  Doctor  and  every- 
body else  is  asleep,  well  come  out,  creep  upstairs,  and  go 
into  Belfort's  room." 

"Suppose  he  wakes?"  interrupted  Black. 

"Let  him.  He'll  have  to  wake  a  minute  later,  when 
we  all  stand  round  his  bed!  Then  I'll  give  him  a  shake. 
He's  an  awful  coward,  and  he'll  be  so  frightened  at  seeing 
our  four  white  figures  about  him  that  he  won't  know  what 
he's  about.  If  he  tries  to  make  any  noise,  we  must  catch 
hold  of  him  and  stop  him  in  a  hurry.  After  we've  fright- 
ened him  long  enough  we'll  pull  off  our  masks,  show  him 
who  we  are,  and  make  him  promise  never  to  tell  one  sin- 
gle ghost  story  more  in  this  school,  or  we'll  let  out  to  the 
other  fellows  how  scared  he  was.  They  won't  ever  let 
him  hear  the  last  of  it  if  we  do.  What  do  you  think 
of  it  ?" 

"Capital!"  "Fine  idea!"  "Best  lark  out!"  came  the 
expected  chorus.  Black,  careful  soul,  stopped  it. 

"Look  here,  Moffat,"  he  objected,  "your  notions  are 
all  very  well.  But  suppose  that  when  Belfort  starts  up 
he  is  either  too  clever  to  be  tricked,  or  too  frightened  to  do 
anything  except  give  three  or  four  of  the  worst  screeches 
you  ever  heard.  He'll  bring  the  whole  house  up,  Doctor 
and  all,  before  we  can  get  off." 

"Well,"  admitted  Sands,  "of  course  in  that  case  we'll 
have  to  cut  away  like  good  fellows — down  the  back  stairs 
and  into  our  rooms.  You  two  can  get  out  of  my  window 
into  yours  over  the  piazza  roof.  But  we  will  get  square 
with  him,  all  the  same,  for  spoiling  the  thing.  Let  each 
fellow  take  his  wash-stand  mug  along  with  him  full  of 
water.  If  he  yells,  down  with  the  water  on  top  of  him 
before  you  run.  That  '11  be  one  comfort  to  think  about 
afterward." 

This  last  idea  clinched  the  business.  The  League  sep- 
arated. Hugh  was  given  leave  by  the  unsuspecting  Mr. 
Camp  to  "run  down  street  before  tea;  just  time,  to  do 
it,  sir." 

He  strode  up  the  flagged  walk  in  twenty  minutes  with 
a  package,  and  with  winks  full  of  mystery  to  Burnett  and 
Traft,  "sought  the  seclusion"  which  Traft  and  Mofl'at's 
room  granted,  the  others  accompanying  him. 

Tea  followed.  After  it  Traft  noticed  a  dozen  of  the 
younger  boys  in  the  prayer  hall  hanging  around  Belfort 
— a  tall,  hulking  fellow  of  fifteen — who  was  plainly  reel- 
ing off  one  of  his  longest  and  silliest  ghost  stories.  They 
sat  listening  with  a  fearful  joy. 

"  He  won't  be  trying  that  after  to-night,"  Black  said  to 
Traft  as  they  walked  out. 

Traft  laughed.  The  evening  study  hour  in  the  school 
was  finished  somehow.  Sands  and  the  other  members 
of  the  League  scarcely  dared  to  lift  their  eyes  to  Dr.  Por- 
tress's grave,  good-humored  face  as  he  read  prayers,  dis- 
tributed the  evening  mail,  and  answered  forty -three 
"Good-night,  sirs,"  as  the  boys  filed  out— the  custom  of 
the  school.  An  hour  later  each  boy  was  supposed  to  be 
ready  for  bed.  The  bell  rang;  a  master  walked  past  each 
door  to  be  sure  that  the  lights  were  out.  Quiet  settled 
down  throughout  the  big  school  building. 

Hardly  had  the  master's  step  died  away  when  Sands 
Moffat's  door  opened  softly.  Two  white  figures  entered. 
White-masked,  and  draped  in  the  sheets  from  the  beds, 
four  noiseless  figures,  each  crowned  with  a  white  turban, 
slipped  out  of  the  same  door  a  couple  of  hours  later. 
j  Each  carried  something  carefully  in  his  hand.  All  was 
still.  The  air  was  chilly,  and  the  four  figures  might  have 


AI'KII,   17,  IS83. 


IIAHPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


371 


hpon  scon  t<>  sliivor  and  shake  with  cold  and  excitement, 

as  they  glided  one  hy  one  up  the  stairs  without  a  word 
or  sound. 

"  Steady.  Black  !  Less  noise,  Burnett !"  whispered  Sands, 
as  he  drew  near  to  the  end  of  the  hall. 

"Hope  you  haven't  spilled  any  water;  it  might  track 
us  if  we  have  to  run  for  it."  came  Black's  low  voice. 

•'  Never  mind  the  water.       Hurrah  for  the  ghosts!"  said 

the  irrepressible  Trat't. 

"Be  still,  Traft!"  ordered  Sands.  He  reached  I!ol fort's 
door,  and  noiselessly  turned  the  knoh.  The  other  three 
followed  him  within  the  room.  A  broad  strip  of  moon- 
light fell  across  its  floor.  There  stood  the  bed  in  the 
shadow.  The  League  took  their  appointed  places  around 
it.  their  hearts  "thumping  like  pile-drivers."  as  Burin-It 
afterward  put  it. 

"One — two — "counted  Sands  with  his  hand.  Alack! 
Ere  lie  counted  the  "three"  the  sleeper  in  the  bod  stirred. 
He  woke  up.  Two  swift,  sharp  cries  escaped  him.  He 
struck  out  to  seize  the  neai-e-t  Lrhosl. 

"Down  witli  your  water!"  exclaimed  Sands.  "Quick! 
Kun  for  it!" 

The  dash  of  the  water  over  the  bed.  and  the  rush  of  the 
four  hoys  to  the  door,  head  over  heels,  succeeded.  The 
door  had  latched.  Sands  caught  the  handle.  Il  came 
oft'.  Traft  fell  atop  of  him.  Burnett  dashed  on  Traft.  and 
Black  plunged  against  Burnett,  upsetting  all  the  quartette 
and  a  towel  rack.  Before  they  could  scramble  to  their 

feet,  a  voice,  stern  in  spite  of  suggestions  of  choking  caused 

by  so  many  urn gf ills  of  water,  ran  gout  to  completely  ship- 
wreck their  little  presence  of  mind: 

"  Young — young  gentlemen,  what  does  this  outrageous 
— outrageous!  mean  '." 

Sands  heard  Black  exclaim,  in  anguish,  "(Jraeioiis! 
boys,  it's  the  I>oelor!" 

And  the  Doctor  it  certainly  was. 

Forbidding  them  to  stir — they  could  not  very  conven- 
iently— Dr.  Portress  threw  his  red  dressing  gown  about 
his  wot  and  shivering  self,  and  lit  the  gas.  The  sight  of 
the  disguised  four,  huddled  together  across  the  room,  in 
the  corner,  their  extraordinary  costumes,  bare  feet.  mugs, 
and  masks,  beside  their  utter  bewilderment,  nearly  took 
away  the  little  breath  the  Doctor  had  left. 

"Take  off  those  masks,  young  gentlemen."  he  said. 
quickly. 

The  League  obeyed  as  speedily  as  cold  and  fright  per- 
mitted. By  this  time  several  of  the  older  students  of  the 
school,  and  both  the  under- masters,  had  hurriedly  left 
their  rooms,  mounted  the  stairs,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
Xo  response  coming  at  once,  some  one  of  them  pushed  it- 
open.  They  stood  there  staring  at  the  extraordinary  scene 
within. 

"Cone  in — come  in,  gentlemen."  said  Dr.  Portress, 
grimly.  "The  more  the  merrier,  under  the  circumstances." 

But,  bewildered  or  grim.  Dr.  Portress  had  a  keen  sense 
of  fun.  He  had  understood  in  a  moment  that  by  mis- 
take he  had  been  made  the  object  of  some  very  impro- 
per school-boy  prank,  originally  planned  without  the 
least  reference  to  himself,  much  less  to  permitting  him  to 
be  an  actor  in  it.  As  he  looked  at  the  shivering  League, 
who  hung  their  heads,  speechless,  before  him — as  he 
glanced  at  the  alarmed  faces  of  the  in-comers,  his  mouth 
began  to  twitch  before  he  had  asked  or  given  a  word  more 
of  explanation.  He  bit  his  lips,  he  sneezed  tremendously, 
and  linally,  after  a  single  desperate  attempt  to  preserve  his 
dignity,  he  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter,  loud,  long,  and 
hearty.  It  was  irresistible.  One  by  one  all  the  surround- 
ing group  chimed  in,  oven  the  sadly  frightened  League. 

"  Go  to  your  rooms,  young  gentlemen,"  the  Doctor  said, 
in  another  moment,  recovering  himself.  "  I  shall  not  in- 
quire into  this  remarkable,  affair  to-night.  Moffat,  Traft, 
Black,  and  Burnett,  come  to  the  study  to-morrow  morning 
before  breakfast." 


The  two  masters  escorted  the  members  of  the  League  to 
their  own  rooms  like  so  many  convicts.  Not  a  word  could 
they  say  to  each  other  as  they  descended  the  stairs,  nor  did 
the  masters  ask  them  questions.  Nevertheless,  just  before 
Sands  left  Black's  side  he  contrived  to  mutter  to  him, 
"We'll  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  all  to-morrow." 

And  Black  answered:  "Yes;  and  who  knows  he'll  let 
us  off  pretty  easy— after  that  laugh.'" 

Dr.  Portress  did.  Ho  had  been  a  boarding-school  boy 
himself  twenty-live  years  before. 

The  next  morning  the  four  culprits  mot  in  the  study, 
and,  as  Sands  had  said,  made  a  clean  breast  of  it.  The 
Doctor  read  them  a  lecture,  sound  and  earnest,  as  to  taking 
law  in  their  own  hands  for  the  benefit  of  Bel  fort  or  the. 
smaller  boys,  or  upon  any  other  occasion  whatever.  He 
was  entirely  equal  to  attending  to  such  matters.  He  like- 
u  ise  gave  them  a  merited  number  of  pages  in  their  Latin 
grammars  and  dictionaries  to  "  write  out"  :  and  very  lucky 
were  they  to  escape  so  lightly.  As  they  quitted  the  study 
rather  shamefacedly.  Sands  looked  up,  and  gathered  eour- 
age  enough  to  say.  "  Dr.  Portress,  if  you  please,  sir,  would 
you  mind  tollinir  us  how  you  came  to  be  in  Bel  fort's  room 
last  night  instead  of  Belfort  '." 

The  Doclor  laughed  softly  to  himself,  and  replied: 
"\Vhy,  yon  sec,  the  plastering  in  my  bedroom  down- 
stairs became  dangerously  loose  yesterday  right,  over 
my  bed.  I  forgot  about  it  until  just  before  the  'lights 
out'  bell  had  rung.  Then,  to  save  Mrs.  Portress  trou- 
ble. I  stepped  upstairs,  and  remembering  that  Belfort 
slept  alone.  1  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  him  to  room  with 
lv_:i:erl.  and  took  his  place  myself— the  most  convenient 
uay  1  could  think  of.  so  late.  If  I  had  had  the  least 
idea  that  a  surprise  party  was  in  store  for  Belfort,  I  would 
have  kept  him  and  myself  out  of  it  at  any  price.  One 
tiling  more:  if  \  on  prefer,  and  can  keep  your  secret  your- 
selves,  no  other  person  shall  know  anything  more  about 
last  night's  adventure.  Belfort  not  oxocpted,  let  them  ask 
as  many  questions  as  they  will." 

Of  course  the  humbled  League  promised.  Not  one  of 
the  four  has  ever  lot  out  a  word  of  the  matter  until  now. 


LIVERWORTS. 

BY   SOPHIE   B.  HEKlilCK. 

ONE  beautiful  October  day  I  started  out,  basket  in  hand. 
to  hunt  for  some  curious  plants  that  I  had  been  read- 
ing about,  and  which  had  interested  me  very  much.  I 
had  often  noticed,  as  you  have  probably  done,  curious  flat 
leaves,  with  curled-up  edges,  growing  on  damp  paving- 
stones  or  around  a  spring,  clinging  close  to  the  stones  or 
wet  ground,  and  carpeting  thorn  with  a  mat  of  rich  dark 
green. 

As  soon  as  I  began  reading  about  the  liverworts  I  recog- 
nized my  old  friends  at  once,  and  was  anxious  to  see  them 
again  now  that  I  knew  something  about  their  ways.  A 
friend  who  was  interested  in  my  studies  promised  to  show 
me  the  way  to  a  spot  where  they  grew,  and  this  October 
day  was  set  apart  for  the  excursion. 

After  leaving  the  street  cars  we  turned  down  a  side  path 
and  entered  a  deep  cut,  and  in  another  minute  a  great 
wall  of  uneven  rock  and  earth  stood  in  front  of  us,  cov- 
ered from  top  to  bottom  with  the  most  exquisite  green. 
Mosses  clung  close  like  a  rich  velvet  mantle,  ferns  reared 
their  delicate  fronds,  tiny  weeds  fresh  from  the  continual 
sprinkling  of  a  stream  of  water  which  trickled  over  the 
rock  grew  in  all  the  little  crannies,  and  close  around  a 
spring  which  had  hollowed  out  a  small  basin  for  itself  in 
a  ledge  of  the  solid  rock  grow  the  liverwort. 

Besides  what  I  had  seen  before  in  the  liverworts  I  now 
found  that  the  leaves  were  spotted  all  over  with  diamond- 
shaped  markings  of  a  darker  green,  each  of  which  had  ;-, 
dot  in  the  centre,  and  that  they  were  covered  underneath 


372 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Fig.  1. — LEAF.    «,  Pocket  Disks;  b,  Seed  Disks; 
c,  Nest. 


1 


with  a  number 
of  white  glassy 
hairs,  which  laid 
hold  of  the  rock, 
and  glued  the 
leaves  down  so 
tightly  that  it 
was  very  hard 
to  loosen  them. 
There  were  three  other  kinds  of  outgrowths  upon  the 
leaves  which  I  want  to  show  you  when  we  have  done  ex- 
amining the  leaves  themselves.  Fig.  1,  a,  is  a  leaf  which  I 
brought  home  to  draw  for  you ;  6  is  another  from  a  place 
close  by.  Fig.  2  is  a  piece  of  the  same  leaf  magnified. 
You  see  the  diamond-shaped  spots  plainly  in  this,  with  the 
little  dot  in  the  centre.  Now  I  want  to  make  you  under- 
stand clearly  the  meaning  of  these  spots  and  their  central 
dot. 

Just  imagine  that  this  irregular  piece  of  leaf  is  a  large 
low  house,  only  one  story  high,  made  up  of  quantities  of 
little  rooms  placed  side  by  side,  and  with  no  entries  or 
passageways  between  them.  The  under  side  of  the  leaf 
is  the  floor  of  the  house,  the  top  is  the  roof,  and  the 
diamond-shaped  spots  all  over  the  top  are  the  roofs  of 
the  separate  rooms;  each  spot  is  a  single  roof,  and  covers 
in  one  room.  The  dot  in  the  centre  is  a  wonderful  little 
chimney  that  leads  out  of  the  room  into  the  open  air, 

and  keeps  it  fresh. 
These  rooms  have 
no  doors  or  win- 
dows ;  they  have 
only  these  chim- 
neys, for  their  in- 
habitants never 
want  to  come  and 
go;  they  only  want 
light  and  air,  and 
these  they  get 
through  the  chim- 
neys. We  have 
been  looking  at 
the  liver  wort  rooms 
from  above;  a  good 
magnifying  glass 
will  let  you  look 
right  down  the  chimney's  throat  into  the  rooms,  and 
see  the  little  inhabitants.  Now  I  want  to  take  off  the 
front  of  one  of  them,  as  you  take  off  the  front  of  a 
baby-house  to  look  in.  Fig.  3  is  a  room  cut  in  this  way, 
though  this  is  cut  right  down  through  the  middle,  so 
that  the  chimney  is  sliced  in  two,  and  you  may  see  how 
it  is  built. 

The  floor,  /,  is  very  thick,  made  up  of  three  or  four  rows 
of  cells;  the  walls  (to)  are  only  one  cell  deep;  the  roof  (?•) 
slopes  up  from  every  side  toward  the  chimney  Co),  which  is 
in  the  middle.  The  chimney,  as  you  see,  is  built  of  rows 
of  cells,  one  laid  on  top  of  another,  just  as  the  bricks  are 
laid  in  our  chimneys.  The  inhabitants  are  like  the  inhab- 
itants of  a  greenhouse;  they  are  queer  little  plants,  some- 
thing like  a  cactus  plant  so  common  in  greenhouses  or  as 
a  window  plant. 

The  liverwort  is  a  plant  that  seems  to  be  all  leaves. 
There  is  no  regular  stem,  but  the  leaves  grow  on  and  on, 

one  out  of  another  ;   the 
f  roots    (h)    are.    the    little 

glassy  hairs  that  grow 
from  the  under  part  of  the 
leaf.  What  takes  the  place 
of  a  flower,  that  is,  the  part 
that  produces  the  seed. 

Fig.  3.-LEAF    CUT    THROUGH    ONE  als°  gl'OWS  OUt  of  tllC  leaf. 

ROOM  OF  FLOOU.     r.   Roof  ;    <•.  I  hope  you  noticed  ill  Fig. 

Chimney  ;    «i.  Wall :  }>,  Plants 

growing  inside  ;/.  floor.  1,  O,  the  odd  little  umbrel- 


Fig.  2.— PART  OF  LEAF,  MAGNIFIED. 
/(,  Root  Hairs. 


Fig.  4.— SEED  DISKS,  Two  POSITIONS,  a,  b. 
e,  VEGETABLE  BOTTLE. 


la-shaped  things 
that  came  out 
of  one,  and  the 
blunt,  clumsy 
scalloped  clubs 
out  of  the  oth- 
er, a.  If  not, 
you  may  look 
back  now  and  see 
them,  for  they  are 
very  curious  lit- 
tle things. 

The  first  we 
will  examine  un- 
der the  magnifier.  Fig.  1,  ft,  is  like  a  little  umbrella  deep- 
ly scalloped  about  the  edge.  In  Fig.  4  you  may  see  it  in 
two  positions  very  much  enlarged.  No  drawing  can  give 
you  the  least  idea  how  beautiful  this  is  under  the  micro- 
scope (a,  Fig.  4) ;  the  delicate  green  spotted  with  a  deeper 
tint  of  the  same  color  and  from  beneath  lovely  irregular 
fringes,  which  look  as  if  they  were  made  of  glistening 
spun  glass.  When  you  turn  it  over  (b)  you  see  nestling 
between  the  bright  fringes  a  little  round  body  like  a  pea 
in  its  pod;  this  body  comes  after  the  seed.  If  I  had  look- 
ed for  my  liverwort  earlier.  I  would  not  have  seen  this 
pea,  but  would  have  found  something  even  more  singular, 
which  comes  before  it,  as  the  flower  comes  before  the  fruit. 
We  can  not  talk  about  things  without  having  some  name 
to  call  them  by,  and  as 
the  names  the  botanists 
give  these  things  are  very 
long  and  hard  and  puz- 
zling, we  will  name  them 
for  ourselves,  and  call 
these  long  scalloped  um- 
brellas seed  disks,  for  they 
grow  the  seed. 

After  the  seed  disks 
have  grown,  down  be- 
tween the  fringes  a  tiny 
bud  sprouts,  which,  when 
it  is  complete,  is  an  odd, 
pretty  little  vegetable  bot- 
tle with  a  ball  in  the  mid- 
dle (Fig.  4,  c),  reminding  one  of  the  water-bottles  with  ice 
frozen  in  them  that  we  sometimes  see  at  restaurants. 
When  the  bottles  are  full  grown  the  neck  peeps  out  from 
between  the  fringes,  waiting  for  something. 

Now  we  will  have  to  go  back,  as  they  do  in  the  story- 
books, and  see  what  the  bottles  are  stretching  out  their  little 
necks  for.  On  the  other  growths  (Fig.  1,  a)  you  see  some 
queer  little  toadstools  which  grow  underneath  the  leaf, 
and  curve  around  upward  till  they  stand  straight  up ;  these 
usually  grow  on  another  plant  near  by  the  seed  disk,  and 
while  one  is  growing  the  other  is  doing  the  same  thing. 
Now  look  at  one  of  these  little  toadstools  (they  are  not 
really  toadstools,  but  they  look  like  them).  I  have  cut  it 
with  a  sharp  razor  right  down  through  the  middle,  as  we 


Fig.  5.— a,  POCKET  DISKS  ;  b,  EGG-SHAPED 
BODY  ;  c,  WHIPS  ;  ft,  ROOT  HAIRS. 


:"  :X*?W**%S.¥  4»MW£lN 

Fig.  0.— CUTOLE,  OB  NEST. 


AI'UIL  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


373 


did  the  tiny  room  of  the  leaf,  and  you  are  looking  at  it 
sidewise.  You  see  (Fig.  5,  «>  that  it  is  all  full  of  little 
pockets,  and  tl.at  standing  on  end  in  each  pocket  is  some- 
thing like  an  egg.  Fig.  5.  /;.  is  this  egg  enlarged  still  more. 
Kach  of  these  eggs  is  like  an  immense'  prison,  with  hun- 
dreds of  cells  huilt  story  on  story.  In  each  cell  is  an  im- 
patient little  prisoner  waiting  to  gel  <>nt.  Von  remember 
1  told  you  the  liverworts  always  lived  where  there  was 
plentv  of  water.  The  water  is  the  fairy  that  linally  lets 
the  prisoners  free.  It  trickles  into  the  pockets  and  tills 
them.  an<l  the  prison  walls  swell  and  crack  and  free  the 

captives.     Funny-looking  little  things  the\  are.  too.  \\  hen 

thev  get  out!  Put  them  in  a  little  water  on  a  piece  of 
glass  and  look  at  them  through  your  microscope,  and  you 
u  ill  see  hundreds  of  little  lilu lit  handled  whips,  each  with 
a  con  pie  of  lashes  (  Fig.  5.  <•  i.  which  have  the  singular  power 
of  whipping  around  without  any  help. 

Bv   some    unknown    means  beyond   our  guessing  these 

diligent    little  whips,  si er  or   later  in   their  active  trips 

through  the  water,  lind  the  open  mouths  ,,f  the  holtle.s  m 
the  seed  disk,  and  whip  themselves  in.  This  u  as  what 
tin  bottle  was  waiting  for.  and  the  ball  in  the  bottle,  and 
the  whip  which  has  found  its  way  in  to  it.  enter  on  a  \  CM 
close  partnership,  just  such  a  partnership  as  we  saw  long 
ago  i  ll.Uil'Kli's  VdlN.i  Pi:<  il'I.K.  February  II.  INS^'I  was 
formed  by  the  pollen  and  ovule  of  the  geranium,  just  such 
a  partnership  as  must  be  made  for  the  formation  of  every 
seed.  The  little  whips  are  a  queer  kind  of  pollen,  and  the 
ball  in  the  bottle  all  ovule. 

In  ordinary  plants  the  seed  formed  in  ibis  way  falls 
into  the  ground  and  makes  a  lieu  plant,  but  the  liver- 
worts do  not.  Without  leaving  its  home  between  the 
glas>v  fringes  the  seed  grows  till  it  makes  the  round  pea 
which  we  saw  in  Fig.  I.  '' •'  this  is  made  up  of  a  quantity 
of  a  kind  of  seed  called  spores,  and  u  hole  bundles  of  long 
elastic  threads,  which,  when  they  are  ripe.  sn-i|;  and  flirt 
t  he  >eed  e\er\  where  about,  so  that  one  single  seed  produces 
thousands  of  spores,  which 
sow  themselves  broadcast. 

Besides  these  curious  ar- 
rangements for  sowing 
themselves,  there  is  yet 
another.  The  liverworts, 
when  they  lind  themselves 
in  very  comfortable  quar- 
ters, get  la/.y;  they  grow 
and  spread  and  take  their 
ease,  and  don't  seem  to 
care  whether  any  other  liv- 
er\\  orts  come  after  them 
uheii  they  die  or  not;  no 
little  disks  grow  on  them 
to  make  seed  and  sow  them- 
selves; but  whether  these 
disks  grow  or  not,  they  al- 
most always  have  on  their 
leaves  the  little  nests  mark- 
ed c  on  Fig.  1. 

Now  let  us  put  one  of 
these  under  the  microscope 
and  look  at  it.  If  it  was 
hard  to  give  any  idea  of 
the  seed  disk  by  means  of 
a  mere  picture,  it  is  impos- 
sible here.  The  nests  are 
the  most  exquisite  things 
imaginable;  the  shape  you 
see  in  Fig.  6,  but  they  look 
as  if  they  were  carved  out 

of  a  pale  emerald,  the  fringed  points  shining  and  glisten- 
ing, and  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  nest  lies  a  treasure-trove 
of  carved  gems  of  a  deeper  green.  Over  it  all  one  would 
imagine  diamond  dust  had  been  sprinkled,  as  it  glitters 


and  sparkles  in  the  light.  These  little  gems  are  spores 
which  are  washed  out  of  the  nest,  and  taking  root,  make 
new  plants  to  bear  new  nests  as  beautiful  as  themselves. 

I" pon  pots  in  most  greenhouses  you  will  find  quantities 
of  another  kind  of  liverwort,  not  nearly  so  beautiful  as  the 
one  I  have  been  describing.  Instead  of  the  nests  there 
are  In  lie  crescent-shaped  pockets  which  hold  the  spores. 
Another  kind  has  a  little  upright  llask  which  holds  them. 
But  whatever  shape  they  may  be,  and  whether  the  seed- 
making  disks  are  on  the  leaves  or  not.  some  kind  of  cup 
or  pocket  for  the  spores  is  always  formed. 


PxAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY     J  A  M  K  s-;      OTIS, 

Ai  mi  in  OF"  TOBY  TVLER,"  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  "ilii.  STCBBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

RESl  TKU. 

the  bo\  s  auokeon  the  following  morning  the 
sun    had   risen,  and   Captain   Sammy  had   followed 
his  example.      He— meaning  ( 'aptain  Sammy,  not  the  sun 
had  kindled  the  fire  anew ;  but  instead  of  allowing  it  to 

blaze,  lie  was  doing  all  be  could  to  deaden  it  by  Hinging 
green  boughs  wet  in  sea  \\alerupon  the  llames. 

The  ho\  s  ualehed  him  for  some  lime  in  silence,  wonder- 
ing what  he  was  trying  to  do.  until  (.'barley  asked  him 
llie  reason  of  his  strange  actions. 

"\Vcll,  you  see" — and  ('aptain  Sammy  spoke  in  the 
tone  be  always  used  when  telling  anything  new  or  strange 

"I  kinder  reckon  that  when  t  he  .  I  ones  boy  tinds  that  his 
part  ne r  don't  turn  up  this  morning  lie' 11  tell  the  folks  jest 
where  we  are.  The  chances  are  that  no  one  will  believe 


A      ' 

V     '  if        ,",/ 

. 

'  .      .-v.  Y"    '•  ' 


THE    ARRIVAL    OP    THE    RESCUING    PARTY. 


him,  so  I  want  to  keep  this  smoke  goin',  for  they  can  see 
that  when  they  couldn't  see  the  blaze." 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


374 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


YOU'MK   TV. 


After  he  had  thus  explained  the  reason  for  his  work  he 
made  them  pay  for  their  curiosity  by  ordering  Charley 
and  Bobby  to  keep  enough  fire  going  to  raise  a  smoke, 
while  he  seated  himself  on  the  point  of  the  ledge  to  watch 
for  the  coming-  of  the  rescuing  party. 

The  only  toilet  which  the  boys  could  make  that  morn- 
ing was  to  wash  their  hands  and  faces  in  the  salt-water, 
and  dry  them  on  their  handkerchiefs,  which  caused  them 
to  understand,  as  they  never  had  before,  how  fresh-water, 
soap,  and  towels  can  refresh  one. 

By  the  division  of  labor  according  to  Captain  Sammy's 
orders  Dare  had  nothing  to  do.  At  first  he  secured  more 
firmly  the  logs  which  they  had  cut  and  rolled  into  the 
water  the  day  previous,  that  there  might  be  no  chance 
of  their  getting  adrift,  and  in  order  that  they  might  be  all 
ready  for  towing  to  the  mainland.  Then  lie  helped  the 
other  boys  in  their  task;  but  finding  that  there  was  no 
more  work  than  two  could  do  easily,  the  idea  occurred  to 
him  of  making  an  effort  to  find  Tommy  Tucker,  in  order 
that  lie  might  go  to  Tampa  on  the  same  boat  that  carried 
the  others. 

Without  Captain  Sammy's  knowledge,  he  told  Charley 
and  Bobby  what  he  was  about  to  do.  and  asked  them  to 
call  him  in  case  any  boat  came  to  their  rescue. 

Then  he  started,  keeping  so  near  the  water  on  his  left 
that  he  could  make  no  mistake  when  he  wanted  to  get 
back. 

It  was  not  until  he  was  some  distance  from  the  others 
that  he  dared  to  call  Tommy's  name,  for  he  was  afraid 
that  if  Captain  Sammy  should  hear  him  he  would  try  to 
prevent  him  from  doing  good  to  the  pirate  in  return  for 
evil. 

When  he  did  call  out  it  was  in  a  low  tone,  and  he  look- 
ed carefully  around  each  root  or  trunk  of  tree  that  was 
large  enough  to  conceal  the  boy  he  was  in  search  of. 

In  this  manner  he  had  walked  so  far  that  he  was  begin- 
ning to  think  lie  ought  to  return  to  camp,  when  he  heard 
a  rustling  of  the  leaves,  and  then  came  a  hoarse,  fright- 
ened whisper: 

"  Where's  Cap'n  Sammy  f 

Dare  knew,  of  course,  that  this  question  had  been  asked 
by  the  boy  he  was  in  search  of,  and  in  order  that  Tommy 
might  not  think  he  was  trying  to  catch  him,  he  stood 
perfectly  quiet,  as  he  replied, 

"  He's  back  there  on  the  beach  watching  for  a  boat.'' 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  as  if  the  boy  was  mak- 
ing i]))  his  mind  as  to  whether  or  no  there  would  be  any 
danger  in  showing  himself,  and  then  Master  Tucker 
stepped  out  into  view. 

He  was  certainly  the  most  discouraged-looking  pirate 
that  ever  was  seen  in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  sash 
was  still  around  his  waist,  and  the  epaulets  on  his  shoul- 
ders, but  owing  to  his  plunge  in  the  water,  and  the  night 
he  had  spent  among  the  trees,  all  the  glory  of  coloring 
was  covered  with  mud  and  dirt.  His  face  was  at  least 
twice,  as  dirty  as  usual,  while  each  hair  on  his  head  seemed 
to  stand  out  in  a  different  direction,  giving  him  a  very 
comical  appearance,  especially  about  the  head. 

He  was  far  from  being  the  same  bold  pirate  chieftain 
he  had  been  the  day  before,  and  that  he  had  had  quite  as 
much  of  piracy  as  he  wanted  was  shown  by  the  tone  of 
his  voice,  as  he  asked, 

"  What  did  Cap'n  Sammy  say  about  his  boat  '(" 

"  He  wa.s  very  angry,  and  I  don't  think  he  would  have 
let  me  come  here  to  find  you  if  he  had  known  what  I  was 
going  to  do." 

"What  is  he  goin'  to  do  to  me?"  asked  Tommy,  and 
his  knees  actually  trembled  beneath  him,  as  he  thought 
of  the  punishment  he  might  receive. 

"I  don't  exactly  know,"  replied  Dare,  not  wanting  to 
tell  the  boy  all  the  threats  made  against  him  by  the  angry 
Captain;  "  but  I  suppose  he  will  whip  you." 

"  He'll  half  kill  me,"  replied  Master  Tucker,  saill  \ . 


"I  suppose  he  will  be  rather  hard  on  you,"  said  Dare, 
inclined  to  be  sympathetic,  but.  feeling  at  the  same  time 
that  Tommy  deserved  some  severe  punishment  for  what 
he  had  done.  "  But  I  tell  you  what  you  had  better  do: 
come  right  out  with  me,  and  have  it  over  before  any  one 
comes  from  Tampa  to  take  us  oil'." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  out  there  where  he  is — not.  for — not  for 
a  dollar,"  exclaimed  Tommy,  frightened  at  the  simple 
idea  of  such  a  thing. 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  get  away  from  here,  and 
what  will  you  get  to  eat  while  you  do  stay  .'" 

"I  don't  know,  an'  I  don't  care.  I  ain't  goin'  out  there 
where  he  is." 

Dare  noticed  that  the  pirate  was  so  broken  in  spirit  that 
he  no  longer  called  Captain  Sammy  an  "old  heathen," 
which  was  good  proof  that  he  was  not  as  proud  and  tri- 
umphant as  he  had  been  ten  hours  before. 

"  I  s'pose  I  shall  get  home  some  time,"  said  Tommy,  sul- 
lenly; "  but  he  won't  have  a  chance  to  get  hold  of  me,  I 
can  tell  him  that,  for  I  can  run  twice  as  fast  as  he  can  any 
day." 

Dare  used  all  the  arguments  he  could  think  of  to  per- 
suade Tommy  to  go  with  him  and  try  to  gain  Captain 
Sammy's  pardon;  but  his  words  had  no  effect. 

Master  Tucker  declared  that  he  had  rather  stay  there 
and  starve  than  to  go  out  and  meet  the  man  whom  he  had 
every  reason  to  believe  would  punish  him  severely,  and 
he  flatly  refused  every  proposal  Dare  made,  replying  to 
each, 

"I  s'pose  I'll  get  home  somehow;  but  he  won't  never 
catch  me." 

While  Dare  was  urging  him  to  do  as  he  wished,  he 
heard  Charley  calling  loudly,  and  he  knew  that  some  one 
was  coming  after  them. 

"All  right,  I'll  be  there!"  he   replied,  and   then,  turn 
ing  to  Tommy  again,  he  said:    "I  suppose  a  boat  is  in 
sight,  and  I  must  go.      Now,  Tommy,  if  you  won't  mine 
with  us,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  for  you  when  I  get 
back  ?" 

"Nothin',"  replied  Tommy,  sullenly:  and  then  he  dis- 
appeared quickly  in  the  bushes,  as  if  he  was  afraid  that 
Captain  Sammy,  guided  by  Dare's  voice,  would  come  to 
catch  him. 

Dare's  attempt  to  do  good  to  the  boy  had  resulted  in 
nothing;  but  he  was  glad  that  he  had  made  the  trial.  He 
walked  back  to  the  beach  feeling  that  he  ought  to  have 
done  more,  yet  not  knowing  what  else  he  could  have  done, 
so  great  was  Tommy's  fear  of  the  little  Captain. 

When  Dare  reached  the  beach  his  father  and  two  men 
were  just  lauding  from  a  boat,  and  Captain  Sammy  was 
explaining  to  them  his  misfortunes,  with  so  many  and  ter- 
rible threats  against  the  boy  who  had  done  the  mischief, 
that  Dare  thought  perhaps  it  was  best  for  Tommy  to  re- 
main out  of  sight  for  a  time. 

Captain  Sammy  looked  at  him  sharply  as  he  came  up, 
much  as  if  he  understood  the  errand  he  had  been  on,  but, 
greatly  to  Dare's  relief,  he  did  not  ask  any  questions. 

Mr.  Evans  explained  that  neither  he  nor  his  wife  had 
felt  any  anxiety  concerning  the  boys.  Ikey  Jones  had 
delivered  his  message  as  Tommy  had  told  him  to  do,  hut 
he  had  run  home  before  any  questions  could  be  asked, 
fearing  that  he  would  get  into  trouble  about  his  share  in 
the  theft  of  the  boat. 

Mr.  Evans,  troubled  by  the  scanty  information  almost 
as  much  as  he  would  have  been  at  no  word  at  all,  started 
at  once  for  Ikey's  home,  and  there,  owing  to  the  ex-pirate's 
wholesome  dread  of  his  mother's  slipper,  the  whole  story 
had  been  told. 

It  was  then  too  late  to  think  of  sending  for  the  prison- 
ers that  night,  and  knowing  that  they  would  be  perfectly 
safe  with  the  little  Captain  as  leader  of  the  expedition,  no 
were  entertained  regardin'g  them. 

Dare   told  his  father   how   he   bad   seen  Tommv,  and 


17.  18S3. 


HAIil'KITS   Yor.XG  PEOPLE. 


3  To 


d  that  he  would  ask  Captain  Sammy  to  allow  the 
pirate  to  go  with  them.  But  Mr.  Evans  refused  to  do  any- 
thing in  regard  to  the  matter.  Tommy  deserved  punish- 
ment, and  he  thought  the  man  who  hail  licen  iu.jiii-eil  by 
the  hoy  shoukl  he  alloucd  to  do  as  he  chose  regarding 
him. 

The  logs  that  had  been  cut  on  the  previous  day  were  .-ill 
i-cadv  for  towinir.  and  tlie  Captain  insisted  that  the  men 
who  had  hcen  employed  hy  Mr.  Kvans  should  pull  them 
to  the  mainland,  in  order  that  their  trip  to  hollar  Island 
might  not  he  wholly  a  failure. 

Therefore,  greatly  to  the  delight  of  the  hoys,  they  were 
fastened  to  the  siern  of  the  boat.  The  oars.  sail,  and  wa- 
ter-cask, which  were  all  that  remained  of  the  little  ('.ip 
tain's  jaunty  craft,  were  put  on  hoard,  and  all  the  prison 
crs  of  lie. liar  Maud,  except  the  one  u  ho  was  still  hiding 
in  the  thicket,  were  sailing  toward  Tampa. 

Tommy  had  said  that  he  should  make  Hollar  Island  hi-. 
piratical  head  quarters,  and  he  now  held  full  pos-.es.sion 
of  it. 

Owing  to  the  heavy  logs  which  were  towed  hy  the  sail- 
lioat   in  whicli   Mr.  Kvans  had  come  to  the  rescue,  the  trip 
from   l)ollar  Island  to  Tampa  was  a   IOIIL:  one.  and  during 
it  the  hoys  learned  much  hy  listening    to  a  discussion    re 
garding  the  work  which  they  had  undertaken. 

Mr.  Kvans  had  asked  Captain  Sammy  some  questions 
as  to  the  1'i'itrl.  and  the  little  man  \\as  in  exactly  tin-  right 
mood  for  conversation. 

The  question  of  how  much  work  was  needed  to  raise 
the  sunken  hoat  hy  the  means  of  the  rafts  came  up.  and 
the  (  'a  plain  inclined  to  the  helief  t  ha  I  I  lie  I  hree  hoys  could 
do  it  unaided  in  four  or  live  days.  lie  also  seemed  to 
think  that  they  could  hire  planks  enough  to  make  a  don- 
hie  covering  for  the  frame  work  of  logs,  and  bj  this  means 
their  work  would  he  very  much  lessened. 

Mr.  Kvans  told  I>;ire  that  he  could  order  the  necessary 
lumber  hauled  to  the  place  win-re  they  would  need  it.  and 
ha\e  the  bill  sent  to  him.  He  also  bargained  with  < 'ap 
tain  Sammy  for  the  purchase  of  a  small  boat  he  ou  lied, 
whicli  the  boys  would  need  in  huilding  the  rafts,  and 
which  would  afterward  be  useful  as  a  tender  to  the  1'i'iirl. 
in  ease  she  was  successfully  floated. 

The  boys  were  therefore  ready  for  work  as  soon  as 
they  should  reach  the  shore,  and  it  seemed  to  them  as  if 
Tommy's  attempt  to  injure  Captain  Sammy  had  resulted 
very  much  in  their  favor. 

|  Mi    1IK    COXTlMI.il.  ] 


THE  ELEPHANT  SoLDlEK. 

BY  JIAt^    I)    lllilNE. 
LONG,  long  ago,  on  India's  plains. 

There  raged  a  battle  tierce  and  strong  ; 
The  din  of  musketry  was  heard. 

And  cannon's  roar  was  loud  and  long. 
Old  Hero  marched  with  stately  tread 

His  part  to  act  in  the  affray  ; 
And  ou  his  hack,  above  all  heads. 

The  royal  ensign  waved  that  day. 

Fondly  the  soldiers  viewed  their  flag. 

Which  shook  its  colors  to  the  air. 
['mildly  the  mahout  rode,  and  sent 

His  watchful  gaze  now  here,  now  there, 
Till  "Halt!"  he  cried;  and   Hero  heard, 

And  instantly  the  word  obeyed. 
When,  lo  !  a  flash,  a  shriek,  and  then 

His  driver  with  the  slain  was  laid. 

Oh,  fierce  and  hot  the-  conflict  grew  ! 
Yet  patiently-  old  Hero  stood 


it  all,  the  while  his  feel 
\Vcre   stained,  alas!  with  human   blood. 

His  cars  were  strained   t<>  catch   the  voice 
Which  only   cinild   his  steps  command. 

Nor  would   he  turn   \\licn   men   urew    weak, 
And  panic  spread  on  either  hand. 

But  yet  the  .standard  waved  aloft  ; 
The  llcciiiL;    soldiers  saw  il.      •'  I. ii  ! 

We  are  not    conquered   yet,"  ihey  cried. 

And   rallying,  closed  upon  the  foe. 
Then   innied   tin-  tide  of  conquest,  and 

The   n>\al   ensign  waved  at    last 
\iiliiriiiiis  o'er  the   blood  stained   field 

•lust   as  the  weary  day  was  pas|. 

Vet  wailed   Hern  for  the  word 

(it    him  whose   s,,le  command   lie  knew — 
Waited,  nor  mo\  ed   one   ponderous  foot, 

To  his  own   captain's  orders  true. 
Tin..    1, niily    ni^liK  three   lonely  days. 

I'oor   I  [cm  ••hailed."     Bribe  nor  lineal 
Could  stir  him   from   the  spot.      And  on 

His   hack   he   hole   the  standard  yet. 

Then  tlmuirht    the  soldiers  of  a   child 

Who   Ihed   n ne   hundred   miles  away. 
•'The   mahout's  son'    fetch   him  !"  they  cried  ; 

"Ills   voice    the   creature1   will    obey  ." 
lie  came,  the   lillle  orphaned    lad. 

Scarce   nine  years  old.      I'.nl    Hero   knew 
That   many  a  time  the  master's  son 

Had   been   the  "  little  driver"  too. 

<  llii'dii  nth    Ihc   bra\  e   old   head 

Was  howed  before  the  child,  and   then. 
With  one  l.iiiir.  wistful  glance  around. 

Old   Hero's  march   began   again. 
Onward   he  went.     The  trappings  hung 

All  stained  and  tattered  at    his  side. 
And   no  one  saw  the  cruel  wound 

On  which   the   blood  was  scarcely  dried. 

But  when  at   last  the  tents  were  reached, 

The  .suffering  hero  raised  his  head, 
And   inuMpetiiiLr  his  mortal  pain, 

Looked   for  the  master  who  was  dead  ; 
And   then  about   his  master's  son 

Ills   trunk  old    Hero   feebly  wound. 
And  ere  another  day  had  passed 

A  soldier's  honored  grave  had  found. 


TWO  LITTLE  INDIANS. 

BY  IIKI.EN  S.  CON  ANT. 

FINE  ripe  pomegranates,  quinces,  pears,  tunitas,"  sang 
a  sweet  little  voice  in  the  streets  of  the  great  city  of 
Mexico.  On  the  pavement,  under  the  shadow  of  a  large 
church,  sat  two  little  Indians,  a  brother  and  sister.  All 
around  them  lay  heaps  of  rich  ripe  fruit. 

Eemembering  the  dear  little  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE, 
and  that  they  are  interested  in  boy  and  girl  life  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  I  stopped  to  buy  some  pomegranates 
of  these  little  fruit  merchants,  and  to  win  from  the  shy 
Indian  maiden  the  story  of  her  simple  life. 

At  first  she  refused  to  answer  a  word,  and  hid  her  large 
black  eyes  in  the  striped  blue  and  white  cotton  mantle 
which  forms  a  part  of  the  costume  of  every  Indian  girl  in 
Mexico.  The  boy.  however,  was  more  talkative,  and  told 


376 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


me  his  name  was  Carlito,  which  is  also  the  name  of  many 
of  my  readers,  only  perhaps  they  do  not  know  that  little 
boys  who  talk  Spanish  say  Carlito  instead  of  Charley. 
His  sister's  name  was  Luzita,  which  means  very  pretty 
and  bright;  and  very  pretty  and  bright  she  was,  with  her 
plump  nut-brown  cheeks,  her  streaming  black  hair,  and 
her  beautiful  eyes. 

I  had  a  copy  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  in  my  hand,  and  as 
something  had  to  be  done  to  overcome  the  shyness  of 
these  two  little  Indians,  I  opened  it,  and  showed  them  a 
pretty  picture  of  some  soldier  boys  marching  in  grand  re- 
view. A  smile  rippled  all  over  Carlito's  brown  face. 

"Look,  Luzita,"  he  cried — "look  at  the  little  soldiers." 

The  blue  cotton  mantle  fell  from  the  pretty  eyes,  and 
Luzita  was  soon  chattering  merrily  with  her  brother  over 
the  wonderful  pictures. 

In  the  city  of  Mexico  are  a  great  number  of  little  In- 


1 


C'ARLITO    AND    LUZITA. 

dians.  They  are  a  very  busy  little  people,  and  run  about 
the  streets  or  sit  at  the  corners  all  day  long,  selling  fruit, 
sweetmeats,  little  baskets  and  brooms  which  they  make 
themselves,  funny  little  brown  jars  and  plates  just  large 
enough  for  toy  kitchen  furniture,  and  many  other  inter- 
esting things.  But  among  them  all  there  are  few  so  in- 
telligent  and  pretty  as  Carlito  and  Luzita. 

These  two  little  children  had  kind  parents,  who,  al- 
though they  could  neither  read  nor  write,  knew  the  im- 
portance of  knowledge,  and  sent  Carlito  and  Luzita  to 
school.  They  were  very  studious,  and  had  learned  to 
rend  their  little  primer  and  to  make  big  letters  on  their 
slates,  when  one  sad  morning  their  papa  lay  sick  and 
quiet  with  closed  eyes,  and  before  night  he  was  dead. 

They  lived  in  a  tiny  cottage  on  the  banks  of  one  of  the 
old  canals  which  lead  from  the  city  of  Mexico  to  the  large 
lake  lying  miles  away  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  It 


was  not  a  pretty  white  cottage  like  the  small  farm-houses 
in  the  United  States,  but  a  low  building  containing  only 
two  rooms.  Its  walls  were  of  rough  stones  fastened  to- 
gether with  coarse  mortar,  and  the  roof  was  only  a  thatch- 
ing of  dried  plantain  leaves;  but  it  was  home  to  this  sim- 
ple Indian  family,  and  now  the  kind  strong  father  was 
gone.  Carlito,  although  only  ten  years  old,  was  the  man 
of  the  house,  and  must  do  a  man's  work.  There  was  the 
mother.  Luzita  (two  years  older  than  Carlito),  and  a  baby 
brother,  who  lay  all  day  in  a  basket,  fighting  the  air  with 
his  little  brown  lists.  There  was  the  garden  full  of  fresh 
vegetables  planted  by  the  father,  which  must  be  harvested 
by  other  hands  than  his;  and  in  the  canal  in  front,  of  the 
cottage  was  the  rude  empty  canoe,  tied  fast  to  an  old  tree 
stump. 

Somehow  the  garden  and  the  canoe  must  be  made  to 
continue  their  work  of  bringing  bread  for  the  desolate 
family. 

In  those  first  days  of  sorrow  little  Carlito  sat  and 
thought  very  earnestly.  His  head  was  weary  with  the 
care  thrown  upon  him,  but  his  courage  grew  larger  and 
larger  as  plans  for  the  future  opened  before  him.  His 
mother  could  take  care  of  the  garden,  he  was  sure  of 
that,  for  he  had  seen  her  digging  and  hoeing  many  long 
sunny  days,  while  the  father  was  away  in  the  city  selling 
vegetables.  And  he  and  Luzita  could  sell  things — of  course 
they  could.  He  knew  lots  of  boys  and  girls  who  did  it 
who  could  not  reckon  and  count  so  well  as  he  could. 

Besides  the  vegetable  garden,  there  were  pear-trees, 
pomegranates,  and  quince -bushes,  all  loaded  with  ripe 
fruit.  And  great  numbers  of  tunas  grew  all  about  the 
cottage. 

The  tuna  is  a  very  large  cactus,  with  great  round  prick- 
ly leaves.  Its  fruit,  which  is  green,  and  shaped  some- 
thing like  a  small  plump  cucumber,  has  a  thick  skin, 
which  incloses  a  pale  green  pulp  as  delicious  and  refresh- 
ing  as  a  glass  of  cool  water.  The  fruit  grows  in  a  very 
curious  manner.  It  has  no  stem,  but  springs  directly 
from  the  top  and  sides  of  the  great  leaf,  first  appearing  as 
a  little  green  knob,  which,  after  the  yellow  blossom  falls, 
swells  and  swells  until  it  attains  its  full  size. 

The  pomegranate  you  will  perhaps  remember  as  one  of 
the  fruits  brought  back  by  the  men  sent  by  Moses  to  spy 
out  the  land  of  Canaan.  It  is  a  very  beautiful  fruit,  con- 
taining hundreds  of  juicy  seed-vessels  of  the  richest  crim- 
son. It  flourishes  all  over  the  American  tropics  as  plen- 
tifully as  in  the  Promised  Land  in  olden  time. 

It  was  a  very  proud  moment  for  Carlito  when  for  the 
first  time  he  loaded  his  canoe  witli  great  bunches  of  juicy 
carrots,  baskets  of  fresh  pease  and  beans  and  tomatoes  and 
peppers,  and  rich  ripe  fruit  from  his  own  trees,  and  taking 
his  seat  a'niong  his  treasures,  with  Luzita  at  his  side,  pad- 
dled down  the  canal  toward  the  great  city  in  the  early 
morning.  And  he  was  prouder  and  happier  still  when, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  he  and  Luzita  paddled  home  again 
with  an  empty  canoe,  but  with  their  pockets  filled  with 
little  shining  silver  pieces. 

Hard  work  and  keeping  at  it  brought  success  to  these 
two  little  Indians.  The  mother,  with  Carlito's  help,  tilled 
the  little  garden,  and  on  days  when  the  load  of  vegetables 
was  very  abundant  she  would  strap  the  baby  on  her  back, 
wrapped  in  her  blue  and  white  cotton  mantle',  and  come 
herself  to  the  city  to  sell  them  in  the  great  market-place, 
while  the  two  children  sat  at  the  street  corner  with  their 
fruits.  Carlito  was  soon  able  to  buy  a  large  square  piece 
of  straw  matting,  of  which  he  made  an  awning,  that  Lu- 
zita might  not  suffer  from  the  hot  rays  of  thf  sun. 

If  you  come  to  the  city  of  Mexico,  and  go  to  a  certain 
corner  of  the  street  near  the  great  square  in  front  of  the 
Cathedral,  you  will  be  sure  to  find  Carlito  and  Luzita  sit- 
ting under  their  awning  selling  fruit;  and  if  you  can  talk 
with  them,  you  will  learn  that  every  word  of  this  story 
of  two  hard-working  little  Indians  is  true. 


APRIL  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


377 


THE    STORY    OF    CIXDERELLA. 


378 


HAKPEtt'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"  LITTLE  FLOY." 

BY   }II!S.  WELLS   FEE R IN". 

WHAT  is  it  ?"  asked  Papa  Bisbee. 
"  What  is  it  ?"  echoed  Mamma  Bisbee. 

"  What  is  it?"  chimed  in  little  Floy. 

Dora  Bisbee  had  just  unfolded  the  morning  paper,  and 
her  low  cry  of  joy  and  surprise,  as  her  eyes  glanced  over 
its  columns,  caused  the  little  group  on  the  back  porch  to 
ask  the  above  question. 

Mr.  Bisbee  laid  down  his  newspaper,  his  wife  paused 
with  her  hands  in  the  dough,  and  little  ten-year-old  Floy 
restecl  her  brown  hands  on  the  top  of  the  churn-dasher, 
which  she  was  moving  swiftly  up  and  down,  to  listen  as 
her  sister  read  : 

''  The  celebrated  German  musician  Carl  Fraulander  will 
give  one  of  his  matchless  entertainments  in  this  city  this 
evening  in  Mark  well  Hall.  As  the  Professor's  fame  has 
long  preceded  him,  it  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  he  will 
meet  with  a  warm  reception  and  crowded  house.  Let  ev- 
erybody come.  Such  opportunities  are  rare." 

The  Bisbee  family  lived  upon  a  farm  ten  miles  from 

the  city  of  C ,  and  consisted  of  father  and  mother  and 

four  children.  The  oldest  girls  were  twins — Cora  and 
Dora — aged  seventeen,  and  possessed  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary beauty.  They  had  been  petted  and  well-nigh  "spoil- 
ed" by  short-sighted  parents  and  friends,  and  were  looked 
upon  as  very  superior  beings  by  their  younger  sister  Floy. 
For  had  they  not  been  away  to  boarding-school,  and 
taken  music  lessons,  and  learned  to  do  up  their  hair  in 
the  latest  style  ? 

"We  must  all  go,"  said  Dora,  laying  down  the  paper. 
"Of  course  we  must,"  added  Cora,  who  had  appeared 
in  time  to  hear  the  announcement. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  can  all  go,"  remarked  Mr.  Bisbee. 
"The  two-seated  buggy  that  I  lent  yesterday  to  Neighbor 
Thomas  has  lost  a  bolt,  and  can't  be  used  until  it  is  re- 
paired. The  carriage  can  seat  but  three,  ;:nd  that  not 
very  comfortably ;  so  somebody  will  have  to  stay  at  home." 
It  was  a  plain  case — some  one  must  stay.  Dora  looked 
hopefully  at  her  mother.  Mrs.  Bisbee  noticed  the  appeal- 
ing glance  and  came  promptly  to  the  rescue. 

"  I  could  not  think  of  going  with  baby."  she  said,  "so  I 
will  stay,  for  one." 

"And  I  will  stay  with  mamma,"  said  Floy,  who  knew 
she  would  be  expected  to  make  this  sacrifice;  but  she  look- 
ed straight  down  at  the  frothy  ring  of  cream  on  the  churn 
cover  as  she  said  it,  that  they  might  not  see  how  hard  she 
was  trying  to  keep  back  the  tears.  Musical  little  girl 
that  she  was,  she  did  not  know  that  there  was  a  greater 
charm  in  the  simple  ballads  she  sang  to  baby  than  in  the 
operatic  airs  her  sisters  spent  so  much  time  in  practicing 
to  sing  when  there  was  company.  But  she  ilid  know  how 
she  had  longed  to  hear  the  German  gentleman  sing,  and 
how  she  had  read  everything  she  could  find  in  the  pa- 
pers about  him  and  the  other  fine  singers  with  him.  And 
now  he  n  as  coming,  and  she  must  stay  at  home — or  some- 
body must  -and  she  had  offered  to  do  so  herself,  and  with 
so  little  show  of  reluctance  that  the  others  never  guessed 
what  a  struggle  it  had  cost  her. 

"That's  a  darling!"  cried  Cora,  kissing  her.  "We'll 
bring  you  some  candy." 

As  if  candy  could  make  up  for  it! 

And  so  it  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Bisbee  and  the  twins 
should  take  an  early  tea,  and  drive  Topsy,  the  fiery  black 
pony,  and  reach  C-  —  in  time  to  secure  good  seats  in  the 
hall;  for  it  would  be  crowded,  Cora  said;  and  Dora  said 
if  she  could  not  get  a  seat  near  the  platform  she  would 
not  go  at  all. 

Floy  watched  the  preparations  with  almost  feverish  in- 
terest, noting  how  careful  Cora  was  to  arrange  her  hair 
becomingly,  and  Dora  to  place  the  rich  lace  at  throat  and 


wrists,  and  wondered  if.  when  she  grew  to  be  a  "big  girl," 
she  would  have  "such  a  nice  time"  as  they  were  going  to 
have.  And  when  they  had  been  tucked  into  the  carriage, 
and  Topsy  spun  away  out  of  sight,  we  will  not  wonder 
that  she  did  shed  a  few  childish  tears  of  disappointment, 
and  wiped  them  away  with  the  corner  of  her  calico  apron. 
By-aml-by  the  twilight  began  to  gather,  and  with  it 
tokens  of  a  coming  storm.  The  supper  dishes  had  been 
washed  and  put  away,  and  Floy  was  teaching  baby  to 
"patty-cake,"  when  the  curly  head  of  a  neighbor's  little 
son  was  thrust  in  at  the  door,  and  a  piping  voice  exclaimed: 
"Please,  Miss  Bisbee,  could  you  come  over  an'  doctor 
mother  a  bit  ;  She  is  got  awful  "tack  nooralgy.  an'  says 
fer  you  to  bring  over  some  of  your  nervine  powder.  She 
is  berry  bad,"  added  the  boy.  as  he  detected  the  doubt  in 
Mrs.  Bisbee's  manner.  That  good  h:dy  looked  at  her  chil- 
dren, and  then  at  the  gathering  clouds. 

"Will  yon  In-  afraid  to  stay  alone  a  little  while,  Floy  '{ 
I  will  come  back  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Oh  no,  1  shall  not  be  one  bit  afraid.  Baby  and  I 
will  have  a  nice  time  while  YOU  are  gone  — won't  we. 
darling  '<"  she  said,  shaking  his  string  of  spools  gleefully 
at  him,  whereupon  Freddie  laughed  and  crowed,  and  Mrs. 
Bisbee,  kissing  them  both,  went  out  into  the  gathering 
darkness. 

Floy  amused  her  baby  brother  until  he  began  to  grow 
sleepy,  and  then  like  a  little  mother  she  put  on  his  night 
gown  and  rocked  him  to  sleep, and  tucked  him  in  the  crib. 
Meanwhile  the  rain  that  had  been  threatening  began  to 
fall  in  larg"  warm  drops,  which  increased  in  number,  un- 
til at  length  it  came  pouring  down  in  torrents,  with  gusts 
of  wind  thai  bent  the  old  elm  in  the  yard,  and  strewed  the 
ground  with  branches  from  neighboring  trees. 

Little  Floy,  white  and  frightened,  but  with  her  usual 
presence  of  mind,  closed  the  chamber  windows  lirst.  then 
those  below,  and  watched  the  violence  of  the  storm  which 
the  blinding  Hashes  of  lightning  now  and  then  revealed. 
She  thought  of  her  father  and  sisters,  and  wondered  if 
they,  or  any  one  else,  were  out  in  this  dreadful  storm. 

Just  then,  as  if  in  answer  to  her  questioning  thought, 
there  came  a  knock  at  the  door  so  loud  and  determined 
that  it  startled  her.  She  thought  of  tramps,  of  robbers, 
of  a  neighbor — but  no  neighbor  would  knock  like  that. 
Quaking  with  fear,  she  gathered  Trip,  Cora's  poodle,  ill 
her  arms  for  a  sort  of  body-guard,  and  stalled  to  answer 
the  summons.  She  turned  the  handle  slowly,  and  held 
the  lamp  high  over  her  head  as  she  peered  out  into  the 
gloom. 

There,  drenched  with  wate:  and  hare  headed,  stood  a 
short,  stout  gentleman — and  he  irux  a  gentleman,  Floy 
could  see  at  a  glance — who  bowed  politely,  and  begged  to 
be  allowed  shelter  until  the  storm  was  over. 

"The  wind  carried  my  hat  away,"  he  explained,  pass- 
ing his  lingers  through  his  wet  curly  locks.  He  stepped 
into  the  hall  at  Floy's  invitation,  and  removed  his  water- 
soaked  overcoat. 

"I  have  been  quite  unfortunate,"  he  continued,  noti- 
cing the  shy  look  with  which  the  little  < •  irl  regarded  him. 
"  I  expected  to  reach  C-  —  to-night,  but  owing  to  a  rail- 
road accident  I  was  obliged  to  stop  at  the  first  station 
above  here,  and  hire  a  conveyance  to  the  city.  It  is  al- 
most impossible  to  keep  the  road,  with  the  rain  and  light- 
ning blinding  one  so." 

His  gentlemanly  manner,  and  that  nameless  something 
which  comes  from  long  contact  with  good  society,  put  our 
little  heroine  at  ease  in  a  moment,  and  placing  an  easy- 
chair  for  him,  she  spread  his  drenched  coat  In-fore  the  lire 
to  dry,  and  proffered  him  her  father's  slippers  and  dress- 
ing-gown. They  were  accepted  with  a  charming  bow 
and  "thank  you"  that  quite  won  her  heart. 

"  You  are  not  keeping  house  alone  this  stormy   night, 
re   you,   my   little   lady?"   asked    the   gentleman,  with  a 
strong  flavor  of  foreign  accent. 


AI'KII.    17 


IIAKl'Kirs  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


379 


Floy  in  for '1  liiin  tliat  papa  and  the  twins  had  gone 

tn  tin-  Fraulander  concert,  tliat  iiiaiiiina  was  visiting  a 
sick  friend,  and  l>ul>y  was  asli-c|i. 

"Why  did  not  you  <_'"  tn  tin1  concert  too;"  In-  asked, 
pullinir  at  the  corner  of  his  Mark  mustache 

"We  couldn't  all  go,  "replied  Floy.      ••  l>ora  and  Cora 

arc  the  oldest,  and  of  COUT8C  they  i-oiildn't  sta]  a!  home 
JIM  for  a  little  girl  like  me.  It's  going  to  l.e  perfectly 
splendid,  too.  I  lora  said:  and  < 'oi-a  -aid  I  wouldn't  appre- 
ciate  it  anyhow. "she  added,  \\ith  a  slight  quiver  in  her 

Voice,  88  she  thought  how   at    that    very   n n-nt    they  were 

sit  ti  HIT  in  the  hla/.e  of  I  he  gas  light,  list  em  nu  1"  those  rapt 
nrous  melodies  sin-  so  longed  to  hear. 

The  gentleman's  eyes  twinkled  inerrily  as  he  asketl. 
"  |)o  you  like  music  ;" 

"Oh.  NO  much:"  was  tie-  reply,  with  a  glance  at  the  ele- 
gant pianti  she  was  seltlom  allowed  to  touch  lest  she  leave 
li Hirer  marks. 

"  And  do  you  ever  play  :"  continued  her  questioner. 

'•  Sometimes."  said  Floy.  "When  the  -iris  are  away 
mamma  lets  me  pi-act  ici-  all  I  want  to.  I  can  play  a  wait/ 
I  learned  all  hy  myself."  she  added,  with  an  air  of  amiis- 

Ing    Cl  illlidelM-e. 

'•  I  love  music  too.  Won't  \oii  play  your  wait/,  for 
in.  lie  asked,  coaxingly. 

Though  nalur.ilU  limit).  Floy's  reserve  had  vanished 
in  ihe  Denial  |irescnci-  of  the  stranger,  and  so  sir,  played 
and  he  listened,  and  even  per-naded  her  to  sin--  for  him 
one  of  her  quaint  little  songs.  The  sued  voice  warbled 
like  a  hirtl.  and  then  sank  into  a  mournful  strain,  from 
which  it  rose  carol  linn'  again,  until  I  In-  -j.-nl  leman  clapped 
his  hantls  in  delight. 

"You    will    make  a    great    siiiLrer  yet.  little  on.-."  he   re 

marked  to  Hi.-  astonished  child,  stroking  her  curls.    "  Jusl 

keep  on  singing,  and  some  i  lay  I  he  world  will  hear  of  yon. 
And  sine  •  \  on  have  played  for  me.  1  will  play  for  you 

I  I  e  seated  hi  nisei  I'  at  t  he  i  list  rumen  I  ami  ran  hi-  lingers 
over  I  he  kevs.  It  seemed  to  Floy  thai  lie  lolichetl  them 
without  know  ing  \\  hat  he  did.  and  yet  there  hurst  forth 
such  a  Hoot)  of  melodies  thai  ihe  child  could  scarcely 
believe  her  senses,  and  crept  close  In-side  him  to  watch  Ins 
hands  as  they  Hew  with  such  wonderful  rapidity  over  tin- 
while  ivory.  And  then  he  sang  song  after  song,  until  the 

tears  sprang  into  ihe  "Teat  hrown  eyes:  such  tender  liar- 
monies,  such  angelic  music,  she  had  never  listened  to  he- 
fore  in  her  short  life. 

\Ylien  he  had  linished  he  turned  and  looked  into  ihe 
upturned  face  "What!  I  ears  .'"  lie  exclaimed. 

"  <  )h.  it  is  all  so  grand,  so  lieaiilil'nl  !"  was  Ihe  reply. 

He  caught  her  hands  in  his  and  laughed  a  merry,  ring- 
ing laugh,  and  told  her  those  lilt  le  hands  won  hi  some  day 
play  much  hetter  than  his  clumsy  ones  hail  done.  Then 
going  to  the  door,  and  linding  the  storm  hat)  ceased.  In- 
put on  his  coat,  which  was  nearly  dry  hy  this  time,  am) 
tying  a  handkerchief  over  his  head,  toltl  his  little  hostess 
he  must  he  going.  He  thanked  her  for  her  kindness,  and 
bade  her  adieu,  leaving  in  her  hand  a  card.  Sin-  look 
it  to  the  light,  and  read  thereon,  "Carl  I'' ran  lander." 

Mrs.  liishee  returned  soon  after,  and  heard  with  delight 
Floy's  story.  Then  they  sat  quietly  by  the  lire,  and  wait- 
ed until  a  sorry-looking  group  put  in  an  appearance  a  i'ew 
hours  later,  cold  and  tired  and  cross. 

The  girls  told  of  their  disappointment;  how  the  Pro- 
fessor had  been  prevented  by  a  railroad  accident  from 
reaching  the  city,  what  a  "  perfectly  horrid"  time  they  had 
had,  ami  "what  a  bore  it  is  to  live  in  the  country  any- 
way ." 

But  what  was  their  chagrin  when  they  learned  that 
patient,  self  saci'ificiug  little  Floy  hud  been  the  great  mu- 
sician's sole  audience,  and  that  he  had  sung  for  her  some 
of  his  choicest  productions!  There  was  no  help  for  it, 
however,  and  they  bore  it  with  as  good  a  grace  as  could  be 
expected. 


Ten    years  have   pass,,!   away.       Again   il    is  Septi-inher. 
mild  and  mellow  and  golden ,  with  fruitage  ripen  inn  every 
.  and  ha/y  glory  ha.iging  over  lake  ami  mountain. 

;i -m  nous,-  up,  Hi  t  lie  hill  is  a  t  ri  lie  grayer  than  of  y  01  e. 
and  the  vines  clamber  more  wildly  over  its  porches,  while 
tin-  trees  cast  denser  shadows  than  they  did  when  tit-si  we 

made  Ihe  acquaintance  of  the  l'.]-l family.       Let  us  peep 

within  these  walls  again,  for  it  is  evening  now  and  the 
lamps  arc  lighted  I'.e-ide  the  window  in  his  great  easy- 
chair  the  father  recline-  Hi-  usually  active  limbs  are 
quiet  now:  but  tin-  doctor  says  his  disease  is  not  as  yet 
dangerous;  only  he  mn-l  have  the  best  of  nursing  anil 
perfect  rest.  The  mother  moves  quietly  about,  but  her 
-tep  is  slower,  and  her  black  hair  is  threaded  w  ith  silver. 

"  1  lark  !  didn't  I  hear  a  I  not  step  Has  she  conic  :"  tin- 
invalid  asks,  eagerly. 

"  II   is  only  the  hree/e.  father." 

But  listen!      What   sound    is  that    we   hear          Is   it    not 

s e   one    singing  I      The    sick    man   hears    il    too,   for   the 

drooping  head  is  quickly  raised,  anil  he  bends  forward 
to  listen.  In  at  the  open  window  il  tloats.  a  snalcb  of 
"  I  loin.-.  Sw  e, -t  Home."  low  and  soft  and  sw  eel.  y  el  cical- 
as the  noles  of  a  silver  lute.  Il  seems  to  electrify  the 
er  listener,  who  .starts  from  his  seat,  forgetful  of  his 
weak  limbs,  hut  is  gently  drawn  back  by  his  wife. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Robert,"  she  says.      "  Listen  again." 

I  ll  there  is  no  mistaking  that  bird-like  voice  as  il  trills 
and  quavers  on  the  willing  air.  only  it  is  richer  and  full- 
er an  I  more  complete,  ami  holds  ihe  old  couple  as  if 
spell  hound  for  a  moment 

I'.iit  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  anil  then  the  singer  is  in 
I  hen-  mids; .  It  i-.  Floy,  w  ho  has  returned  from  the  school 
of  art  and  music,  where  she  has  won  high  honors,  to  glad- 
den the  dear  home  with  her  sweet  presence,  and  waken 
tin  ,  chocs  v,  lib  her  joyous  SOI 

Tin-  oll'er  of  a  salaried  position  in  the  gay   city  has  I n 

declined,  because  home  duties  rank  lirst  in  her  warm   little 
heart.       And  mother's  cy  es  grow  moist,  and   father's  hand 
rests   long  and  lovingly  on   the  young  head,  as  they  wel 
come  her  home  again. 

1'erhap-  the  Professor's  words  thai  Ihe  world  will  hear 
of  her  may  be  reali/.ed  some  day.  but  just  now  Floy  is  Ihe 
support  of  old  a  ire  ami  the  comforter  in  its  lonely  hours. 
1  n  the  veal's  I o  come  lh"  sweet  SOngS  and  ballads  that  she 
sing-  for  the  little  audience  at  home  may  he  heard  in  con 
cert  halls,  and  delight  hundreds  of  listeners;  for  the  Pro- 
fessor says  I  hat  Floy  has  only  to  study  a  little  while  long- 
er, when  she  will  more  than  reali/e  all  thai  he  ever  pro- 
phesied of  In-r. 


I'FAWKI:-,  OK  PONIES. 


MARBLES,  AND  W1IEUK  THEY  COME  FROM. 

BY  A.  W.  HOBEKTS. 

IS  there  a  wide-awake  boy.  a  boy  who  goes  to  school,  and 
knows  how  to  enjoy  himself  during  play-time  as  well 
as  how  to  study  hard  during  study  hours,  that  does  not. 
know  all  about  "fen  dubs.1'  "fen  h'isting,"  "  fen  punch- 
ing-," "fen  inching,"  "fen  grinds,"  and  "fen  bunching"? 
If  there  is  such  a  boy,  he  lias  missed  a,  great  deal  of  fun 
in  never  having  learned  and  used  these  mystical  sayings; 
and  when  perhaps  he  becomes  a  father  or  a  grandfather 
he  will  lose  much  pleasure  in  not  being  able  to  take  a  hand 
in  with  the  youngsters,  and  tell  bow  he  played  marble!-. 
when  he  was  a  boy. 

Although  it  is  many  and  many  a  year  since  I  wore  the 
skin  oft'  my  knuckles  and  my  trousers  out  at  the  knees. 


380 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BURNT  AGATE. 


SNOW-FLAKE. 


and  flattered  myseK  tn<i*.  I  knew  all 
about  marbles,  it  was  1101  until  re- 
cently, when  talking'  with  the  whole- 
sale dealers  in  marbles,  that  I  had  to 
acknowledge  that  there  was  still  very 
much  to  he  learned  on  the  subject 
that  is  interesting  and  new. 

I  was  told  that  in  ancient  times, 
away  back  before  the  Christian  era, 
games  were  played  with  marbles,  not 

the  beautiful  round,  smooth,  and  polished  ones  of  the  pre- 
sent day,  but  with  round  sea-worn  stones  and  pebbles; 
also  that  marbles  are  frequently  met  with  in  the  ruins  of 
old  cities,  and  among  the  other  wonderful  relics  found  in 
the  buried  city  of  Pompeii. 

As  to  which  particular  nation  or  people  first  manufac- 
tured stone  and  glass  marbles  nothing  is  known.  About 
the  first  mention  we  have  of  them  is 
that  they  were  introduced  into  Eng- 
land from  Holland  as  early  as  1620. 
This  being  the  case,  the  boys  have  our 
early  Dutch  settlers  to  thank  for  the 
first  introduction  of  marbles  to  this 
country,  as  it  is  not  at  all  probable 
that  the  stern  Pilgrims  would  encour- 
age the  playing  of  games  with  round 
stones. 

All  the  dealers  in  marbles — and  I 

have  talked  with  very  many  of  them — tell  me  that  the  en- 
tire stock  of  marbles  for  the  American  market  comes  from 
Germany,  and  that  the  prices  paid  for  manufacturing  them 
are  so  low  that  110  American  laborer  would  or  could  live 
on  such  wages.  A  great  deal  of  the  work,  such  as  mould- 
ing and  painting,  is  performed  by  poor  little  children. 
I  shall  never  again  watch  a  lot  of  happy,  intelligent, 

bright,  well-fed, 
and  well-clothed 
American  boys 
playing  at  mar- 
bles but  I  shall 
think  of  the 
poorly  clad  Ger- 
man children 
munehingu  way 
on  a  piece  of 
black  bread  (for 
that  is  all  they 
get  to  eat)  as  they 
work  on  their 
weary  tasks  for 
a  few  cents  a 
week.  Poor  lit- 
tle things!  it  is 
no  wonder  they 
love  America, 

and  wish  they  were  human  marbles  and  could  roll  over 
here. 

The  common  gray  marble  is  made  of  a  hard  stone  found 
near  Cobnrg,  in  Saxony.  This  stone  is  first  broken  with 
a  hammer  into  small  square  fragments.  From  100  to 
200  of  these  are  ground  at  one  time  in  a  mill  which  re- 
sembles a  flour  mill.  The  lower 
stone  remains  at  rest,  and  is  pro- 
vided with  several  concentric 
circular  grooves  or  furrows.  The 
upper  stone  is  of  the  same  size 
as  the  lower,  but  revolves  by 
means  of  water-power.  Little 
streams  of  water  are  allowed  to 
flow  into  the  furrows  of  the  low- 
er stone.  The  pressure  of  Hie 
"runner"  (the  upper  stone)  on 
the  pieces  rolls  them  over  in  all  CKOTON,  OR  JASPER. 


BULL'S-EYE. 


FANCY  GLASS  AGATE. 


<;I,ASS  FIGURE  AGATK. 


directions,  until  in  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  they  are  reduced  to  nearly 
perfect  spheres. 

An  establishment  with  three   such 
mills  can  turn  out  over  sixty  thousand 
marbles  a  week.     This  operation  is  for 
the   coarser  kinds   of   stone   marbles. 
In  making  the  finer  grades  they  are 
afterward  placed  in  revolving  wooden 
casks  in  which  are  cylinders  of  hard 
stone,  and  the  marbles,  by  constantly  rubbing  against  one 
another  and   against    the   stone   cylinders,  become   very 
smooth.      To  give  them  a  high  polish  the  dust  formed  in 
the  lasi  operation  is  taken  out  of  the  cask,  which  is  then 
;  charged  with  fine  emery  powder.      The  very  highest  and 
last  grade  of  polish  is  effected  with  "putty  powder."    .Mar 
hies  thus   produced  are 
known  to  the  trade   as 
"  polished     gray     mar- 
bles."     They    also    are 
stained  different  colors, 
and  are  then  known  as 
"colored  marbles,"  and 
are    sold    by    the    New 
York  wholesale  dealers 
at  from  seventy  to  eighty 
cents  per  thousand. 

What  the  maker  re- 
ceives for  them  I  leave 
you  to  imagine,  for  the 
German  wholesale  deal- 
er must  obtain  his  pro- 
fit, then  comes  the  cost 

of  sending  them  to  this  country,  and  the  Custom-house 
duty,  and  a  profit  for  the  American  dealer  who  disposes 
of  them  at  eighty  cents  per  thousand.  As  there  are  twen- 
ty to  twenty-five  lines  or  varieties  of  German  marbles,  it 
is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  they  hold  their  own  against 

even  the  labor  and  time  sav- 
ing machinery  of  America. 

After  the  small  gray  mar- 
bles come  the  largest-sized 
marbles,  or  bowlers,  now 
called  "bosses"  by  the  New 
York  boys.  These  are  one 
and  a  quarter  inches  in  di- 
ameter, and  cost  from  sii  to 
$7  per  thousand.  The  next 
grade  of  marbles  includes 
the  "china  alleys,"  "burnt 
agat°=,"  "glass  agates,"  and 
•"jaspers,"  though  with  the 
trade  these  are  all  called 

marbles.  China  alleys  are  painted  in  fine  circles  of  vari- 
ous colors,  or  in  small  broad  rings,  in  which  case  they  are 
known  as  "  bull's-eyes."  Some  of  these  are  pressed  in 
wooden  moulds,  after  which  they  are  painted  and  baked. 
These  cost  from  50  cents  to  $7  50  per  thousand,  according 
to  the  size.  The  better  and  more  highly  finished  alleys 
are  made  of  china,  carefully  moulded, 
painted,  and  fire -glazed.  These  cost 
from  §2  75  to  $15  per  thousand,  the  lar- 
gest being  an  inch  and  a  half  in  diam- 
eter. Our  illustrations  in  every  case 
show  the  marbles  full  size. 

Next  come  the  jaspers,  or,  as  the  boys 
call  them,  "Croton  alleys,"  consisting 
of  glazed  and  un glazed  white  china 
handsomely  marbled  with  blue.  The  "burnt  agates"  are 
also  china,  and  highly  glazed  ;  in  color  they  are  a  mixture 
of  dark  and  light  brown  with  splashes  of  white;  when 
"ii  en  is  introduced  with  the  above  colors  they  are  known 
as  "moss  agates";  by  the  dealers  they  are  known  as  "im- 


CARNELIAN  AGATE. 


BIRD'S  EGG. 


APRIL  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


381 


itation  agates.''  The  prices  of  these  range  from  $2  75  to 
67  50  per  thousand.  Then  conies  a  very  large  and  beau- 
tiful class  or  variety  of  alleys  known  as  "glass  marbles." 
These  range  in  size  from  two  inches  in  diameter  down  to 
tin-  small  "pea wees."  and  are  of  every  cmicei vable  combi- 
nation of  colored  glass.  Some  contain  figures  of  animals 
and  birds,  and  are  known  as  "glass  figure  marbles." 
These  are  pressed  in  polished  metal  moulds  the  parts  <>!' 
which  fit  so  closely  together  that  not  the  slightest  trace  of 
them  is  to  be  seen  on  the  alleys,  which  is  not  the  case 
with  most  of  the  pressed  china  alleys,  for  if  one  looks  over 
a  number  of  them  sharply  he  will  detect  a  small  ridge 
encircling  some  of  them.  The  "opals."  "glimmers." 
"blood,"  "ruby."  "spangled,"  "figured."  and  imitation 
carnelian  all  come  in  this  class,  and  are  all  very  beautiful. 
Now  come  the  most  beautiful'and  expensive  of  all  mar- 


bles— the  true  agates  and  true  earnelians.  These  are  L-<  ,us. 
and  are  quoted  as  high  as  845  per  gross  wholesale  for  the 
largest  sizes.  They  are  of  the  most  exquisite  combina- 
tions of  colors  in  grays  and  reds,  arid  are  all  highly 
polished  by  hand  on  lapidaries'  wheels.  Last  and  least 
in  size  are  the  "pea wees"  or  "pony"  alleys  and  marbles. 
They  are  comical  little  chaps  no  larger  than  a  good-sized 
marrowfat  pea.  Of  late  years  gilded  and  silvered  mar- 
bles have  been  introduced,  also  a  style  speckled  with  vari- 
ous colored  paints,  which  are  called  "  birds'  eggs." 

When  playing  marbles  it  is  well  to  provide  one's  self 
with  a  pad  on  which  to  kneel,  thereby  avoiding  all  soiling 
and  wearing  out  of  the  knees  of  one's  pants.  A  rest  for 
the  hand  when  "knuckling  down,"  consisting  of  a  piece 
of  the  fur  of  any  animal,  will  be  found  very  convenient 
when  playing  on  coarse  sandy  soils. 


TAM    0'    SIIANTER. 


382 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CHILDREN." 


:j.-^=_Nirr-!M===— i  ^fT^E 


C-hil  -  dren,  nev  -  er  mind  how  small,  Nor  how   fat,     or    thin,     or    tall. 


3= 

\v  r* r 


rrp p * —         .J=y ^ —  — y *<— 

Wish,    as       lit   -   tie     chil  -  dren  should,  To    he      ver  -    \,    ver    -  y    good. 


—5= 

rb=*= 

_C, 1 C — 


Yet  I  find,  however  small, 
Whether  tat.  or  thin,  cr  mil. 
Little  children,  as  a  rule, 
Do  not  like  to  go  to  school. 

I've  remarked,  however  small. 
Win-flier  fat,  or  thin,  or  tall, 
Children  much  too  kindly  take 
To  plum-pudding,  sweets,  and  cake. 

Further,  I  have  noticed  that, 
Whether  tall,  or  thin,  or  fat, 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

SO  many  of  you  have  written  to  me  about  your 
interest  in  the  fair  for  Young  People's  Cot, 
which  was  held  in  New  York  on  March  28,  that  I 
think  you  will  be  glad  to  know  something  ahout 
it.  The  tables  were  loaded  with  pretty  and  use- 
ful articles,  many  of  which  had  been  made  by 
little  fingers.  I  saw  Aunt  Edna  there,  and  Miss 
Fanshawe,  who  has  been  so  kind  in  receiving 
and  taking  care  of  the  contributions  for  the  Cot. 
Aunt  Edna  showed  me  some  of  the  tasteful  arti- 
cles which  had  come  to  her  all  the  way  from 
Texas,  California,  the  Carolinas,  and  Virginia  on 
purpose  to  adorn  her  table.  I  was  very  glad  that 
the  Postmistress  was  not  the  only  person  who 
went  to  the  fair  because  it  was  held  for  Young 
People's  Cot.  There  were  visitors  there  who  had 
come  by  boat  and  by  rail  from  several  places 
outside  of  New  York,  and  the  ladies  were  very 
busy  in  waiting  on  them. 

As  for  the  fish-pond,  there  was  such  a  crowd 
in  its  neighborhood  that  I  could  not  get  a  glimpse 
of  its  treasures.  And  the  boys  with  tiny  trump- 
ets, and  the  girls  flying  here  and  there,  you  should 
all  have  seen  them  !  I  can  not  tell  you  yet  just 
how  much  money  was  made  at  the  fair,  but  it 
was  so  much  that  you  will  be  perfectly  delighted 
when  Miss  Fanshawe  shall  announce  it  in  her 
next  report. 

When  tin'  Cot  is  endowed,  and  the  little  child 
who  belongs  to  us  is  occupying  it,  then,  dears,  I 
shall  go  to  St.  Mary's  and  see  tin-  pleasant  ward 
where  the  children  are  cared  for  by  the  gentle 
Sisters,  and  tell  you  all  about  it. 


NK\V  YORK  CITV. 

MY  DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— I  have  been  sick  in 
bed  for  over  a  year,  hut  a.m  getting  better.  I 
thought  I  would  amuse  myself  by  writing  to 
YIII-NU  PEOPI.K.  Papa  carried  me  down  to  our 
library  and  pillowed  me  up  in  the  window  on 
the  evening  of  Barnum's  procession,  which  pass- 
ed our  housr.  It  was  quite  a  rousing  sight  for 
me.  as  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  anything 
of  the  kind  since  Decoration-day  last  year. 

I  saw  Jumbo  in  London  some  time  ago.  On 
my  brother  Gerald's  birthday  mamma  gave  him 
permission  to  celebrate  it  as  lie  pleased,  so  he 
decided  we  should  all  spend  the  day  in  the  Zoo- 
logical Gardens,  and  we  must  all  ride  Jumbo — 
even  mamma:  We  had  great  fun.  We  also  rode 


cologne,  one  of  bandoline,  a  piece  of  lovely  pink 
soap,  sponges,  towels,  brushes,  combs,  powder 
box  and  putt,  wash-howl,  pitcher,  soap-dishes, 
sachet,  and  even  an  oil-skin  cap.  Don't  you  think 
she  was  :i  very  nice  lady  to  know  just  what  lit- 
tle girls  like? 

Tliis  is  the  first  letter  I  have  ever  written.  My 
brother  Percy  used  to  write  letters  to  yon,  but 
h<-  is  twelve  years  old  now.  and  he  lets  me  take 
Yin  .M.  PEOPLE  this  year,  and  we  both  read  it.  I 
take  Wide  Awake  too,  but  I  like  YOTN<;  PEOPLE 
best,  because  it  comes  every  week,  and  I  under- 
stand things  in  it  better.  ELLA  MiD. 


Children,  do  just  what  you  please, 
Wear  their  stockings  at  the  knees. 

You've  remarked— at  least  you  ought- 
Children  fat,  or  tall,  or  short. 
Though  you  have  them  tipped  with  steel. 
Tread  their  boots  down  at  the  heel. 

Men  have  tried,  and  tried  in  vain. 
This  great  problem  to  explain. 
Why  poor  children,  though  they  would. 
Are  so  very  seldom  good. 


camels,  all  except   mamma.     She  said  it  was 
enough  of  fun  to  have  ridden  Jumbo. 

One  time,  when  we  were  in  London,  before 
Gerald's  birthday  celebration,  a  very  funny  thing 
happened.  We  were  all  at  the  Zoo,  looking  at 
the  giraffes.  One  giraffe  stood  in  trout  of  mam- 
ma. Suddenly  a  little  girl  called  out.  "Oh.  mam- 
ma, look  at  that  giraffe  eating  that  lady's  head 
off!"  We  all  turned  to  look,  and  mamma  dis- 
covered that  the  giraffe  was  calmly  nibbling  off 
the  crown  of  hrr  hat  !  The  giraffe 'was  the  only 
one  of  the  party  who  was  not  frightened.  He 
quietly  walked  off  with  his  mouth  full  of  arti- 
ficial flowers.  Mamma  had  to  hurry  home,  hav- 
ing had  enough  of  the  Zoo  for  that  day. 

I  am  afraid  I  will  not  be  well  in  time  to  see 
Jumbo  this  year.  My  little  brother  Arthur  went 
there  yesterday,  and  said,  "  Oh.  it  was  bully  ! 
but  every  fellow  ought  to  be  allowed  to  go  three 
days  to  really  see  it."  Arthur  is  eight  years  old. 

I  hope  my 'letter  is  not  too  long  to  be  printed. 
I  enjoy  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  I  like  Mr. 
Alde'n's  and  Mr.  Stoddard's  stories  very  much. 
I  wish  Mr.  stoddard  would  write  a  sequel  to  the 
"Talking  Leaves."  Of  course  I  like  Mis  I.illic-'s 
stories,  because  she  is  my  aunt.  I  enioy  reading 
them  in  MS.  I  have  written  this  all  myself.  Per- 
haps you  are  as  tired  of  it  as  I  am. 

JOHN  J.  M.  (11  years). 

We  are  not  a  bit  tired  of  so  merry  and  descrip- 
tive a  letter,  but  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  you  were 
ready  to  lie  back  in  your  reclining  chair  or  among 
the  pillows,  and  rest  awhile  after  writing  it. 
What  a  droll  giraffe,  to  be  so  easily  cheated  by 
the  flowers  on  a  lady's  bonnet!  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  the  artist  who  painted  flowers  so  beauti- 
fully that  he  deceived  the  bees,  which  went  flying 
toward  the'  picture  to  find  the  sweets  they  love? 

I  imagine  some  little  folks  will  exclaim,  "O-o-h ! 
what  a  fortunate  boy, to  see  Mrs.  Lillie's  stories 
so  long  before  we  do  !" 


\R\V  ORLEANS,  I.OL-IRIAN-A. 

I  was  surprised  to  see  the  name  of  Mignon  C.. 
of  Dresden,  Germany,  in  the  columns  of  YOTNI; 
PEOPI.K.  She  and  I  were  drar  friends  onre.  and 
it  we  go  to  Europe  this  summer  I  hope  we  may 
meet  her,  that  is.  if  she  has  not  forgotten  me  by 
this  time.  I  too.  like  Minnie  M..  live  "'way 
dosvn  South  in  Dixie."  but  have  travelled  all 
over  the  North.  I  have  taken  HAIIPEK'S  YOUNB 
PEOPLE  since  the  first  number,  and  enjoy  it  ex- 
ceedingly. 

Living  in  the  city,  I  don't  have  many  pets,  only 
a  French  Angora  eat  and  a  canary.  As  these 
were  raised  together,  they  get  along  very  well. 
But  I  should  not  like  to  trust  Master  Tom  (the 
cat)  too  far,  for  instinct  might  prove  stronger 
than  training  If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  will 
you  kindly  tell  me  on  what  day  fell  the  11th  of 
August,  180!) ?  ANNIE  L.  T. 

The  llth  of  August,  1869,  fell  on  Sunday. 


BROOKLYN-,  NEW  YORK. 

I  have  eight  dolls,  (me  of  them  is  very  large. 
Her  name  is  Mrs,  Edith  Lillian  Montague  de  St. 
Everard.  About  two  years  ago  slit-  \vas  married, 
but.  lierhushamUHobertHost  his  head,  both  arms, 
and  one  leg  (I  think  mamma  threw  him  in  the 
a^li  I  M  ]-M -I  i.  so  she  is  a  widow.  She  has  a  daugh- 
ter. Carrie  May.  Carrie  is  a  jointed  bisque  doll, 
with  lovely  dark  bine  eyes  and  curly  hair.  The 
others  are  named  Edith'.  Mabel,  Daisy,  Belle.  Ma- 
mie, and  Nellie. 

Last  Christmas  a  very  kind  lady  friend  of  papa's 
ami  mamma's  sent  me  a  beautiful  doll's  dressing- 
case.  It  has  everything  so  nice  :  three  bottles  of 


KONA,  HA\V  ui.  SANtnvicH  ISLANDS. 

My  name  is  Harold  James  Manning  B.  I  am 
four  years  old.  and  more  than  three  feet  high.  I 
take  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  mamma  ha- 
read  all  about  Santa  clans  in  it,  and  I  thought 
you  would  know  where  he  lived,  so  I  asked  pupa 
to  write  and  ask  yon  it"  yon  will  tell  me  where  he 
lives.  We  sing  every  day  "A  green  hill  far  away." 
I  have  a  little  ralf  :  his  name  is  Billy  ;  his  mother 
is  Jenny  ;  they  come  and  eat  out  of  my  hand.  I 
am  a  good  boy.  bnt  sometimes  I  am  naughty. 
Mary  and  I  get  guavas  to  eat.  Mary  takes  cave 
ofirie.  The  mango-trees  are  all  in  flower.  We 
have  nice  mangoes,  peaches,  and  bananas.  We 
have  a  big  dog,  a  yellow  Mopse:  he  is  tied  up, 
because  he  will  run  .away  sometimes.  We  have 
a  little  rice-bird  that  is  building  its  nest  in  a 
bunch  of  bananas.  Please  put  this  letter  in  your 
paper,  and  let  me  know  where  Santa  clans  lives. 
Papa  is  a  farmer,  and  goes  long  rides  up  the 
mountains.  That's  all  from  HAROLD. 

My  darling  boy,  where  Santa  Claus  lives  is  a 
great  secret,  and  nobody  ever  finds  it  out  until 
he  or  she  has  grown  so  wise,  or  else  so  foolish, 
that  Santa  Claus  has  no  time  to  ring  his  bells  at 
that  person's  door.  Does  papa  read  fairy  tales 
to  you?  If  so,  when  you  have  found  the  singing 
leaves,  and  the  talking  bird,  and  all  the  other 
queer  and  pretty  things  in  flu- land  of  the  fairies. 
you  may  perhaps  discover  old  Santa's  home. 
That  rice-bird  probably  knows  it,  but  she  is  too 
busy  with  her  nest  in  the  bananas  to  tell  little 
Harold. 

Will  you  listen  while  two  little  people— Frank 
and  Virginia— tell  you  ahout  a  large  Newfound- 
land dog  which  mamma  had  given  her  when  she 
was  a  little  girl:-  on  one  occasion,  mamma  tells 
us.  she  went  with  her  papa  and  mamma  to  spend 
the  evening  with  a  friend.  When  they  were 
ready  to  return  home  they  found  there  was  no 
horse  and  carriage  at  the  post  where  grandpa 
had  fastened  her.  As  it  was  not  more  than  a 
mile  to  their  house,  they  all  started  to  walk,  and 
after  going  a  little  distance  they  met  the  dog 
coming  after  them  with  the  horse  and  carriage. 
They  thought  that  he  must  have  gone  out  to  the 
carriage  vyhen  he  heard  it  come,  and  finding  no 
one  in  it,  in  some  mysterious  way  got  the  horse 
and  carriage  turned  around,  and  induced  the  old 
horse  to  leave  the  little  colt  she  had  probably 
come  home,  to  see.  and  to  return  witli  him  in 
search  of  his  missing  master  and  family.  When 
grandpa, grandma,  and  mamma  met  them  it  was 
after  ten  o'clock  at  night.  The  faithful  dog  was 
walking  backward  right  in  front  of  the  horse, 
and  she  was  following  him  with  the  carriage. 

I  am  writing  this  for  little  brother  and  myself. 
as  I  am  the  oldest— ten  years,  and  he  but  seven. 
He  has  a  pet  squirrel,  which  was  given  to  him, 
but  he  is  so  anxious  about  its  health  and  spirits 
that  he  hardly  likes  to  keep  it .  I  can  almost  hear 
you  say,  "Rather  too  long  a  letter."  so  in  haste 
we  bid  you  gobd-by.  FKANK  and  VIKMNIA  s. 

P.s.  —  .Mamma's  receipt  for 

DROP  GINGERBREAD. 

Half  a  cup  of  butter,  three-quarters  of  a  cup  of 
sugar,  three-quarters  of  a  cup  of  molasses,  half  a 
cup  of  sweet  milk,  a,  full  tea-spoonful  of  soda, 
two  eggs,  and  three  cups  of  flour;  spice  ;  bake  in 
patty-pans.  v.  S. 

I  am  so  glad  you  want  to  hear  from  us  boys. 

Seems  to  me  most  t pie  don'i  like  boys,  only 

my  mamma  she  says  her  boys  are  her  rubies,  and 
her  girls  are  her  pearls.  We  live  in  the  country, 
and  have  five  acres,  and  in  summer  I  have  in 


Al'IilL  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


383 


\v»-i'.i  mamma's  flowers ;  and  if  I  feed  the  chick- 
i-ii-  1  may  sell  tin-  fi^>  ami  keep  the  money  t«r 
my  own.  Mamma  buys  them.  Ami  I  1:0  I" 
school,  and  take  logons  on  ttie  violin,  ami  I  have 
\<>  practicf  every  mornin;:  before  school.  ;-i-.tcr 
lakes  l«---.ons  on  the  piano,  ami  we  play  >ome 
awful  pretty  duets  (o^-vth'  r.  Sonn-times  niam- 
ma  plays  with  us.  or  papa  on  his  flute.  .M  ; 
aiim-i'iin-iit  N  rny  viitlin.  The  book  I  like  l»  -i  i^ 
I'licit  /A //<">•".<  *'itiinff<  and  Doings.  \\  ••  iu-t  iaui:h 
when  papa  n-aiK  that.  I  d<>n"r  know  how  many 
book-  I  have  read,  because  mamma  reads  lot-,  to 
us.  I  liave  two  sisters  and  one  little  ba!>\  bro 
tlier.  lie  is  two  years  oM.  and  lias  long  lii;hl 
curls  sisfi-r  is  ten  ami  a  half;  I  am  nine.  An- 
other tiling  |  like  is  to  use  tooN  My  papa  gave 
me  a  splendid  ^reat  hiir  chest  mi  Christmas,  and 
a  real  work-heneh.  and  mamma  lets  me  have  it 
in  the  nursery,  and  she  sits  there  all  the  time, 
and  I  make  things.  Sister  ami  I  are  saving  <uir 
nir.iM'\  IMI-  the  Cur;  we  li;ive  ten  cents  apiece 
each  wei*k,  1'iit  w<-  lia\<-  to  l.uy  our  own  pencil-; 
and  candy  and  pay  at  Sunday-school,  so  it  takes 
a  lonir  time.  Mamma  won't  let  us  cln- w  wax  ami 
eat  in nt -h  candy,  and  she  won't  pay  us  money  for 
doinir  <mr  work,  which  she  says  is  our  dut>  si- 
ter  and  I  have  to  make  our  own  beds.  I  don't 
^ue^>  I  have  any  motto,  only  my  mamma's— "  He 
who  aims  at  the  sun  will  surely  hit  something  ! 
hiirher  than  liis  foot  "  \\"e  vmiiv  »-\.  r\  ni-ht. 
ha\c  music,  and  ^o  to  bed  at  eiirht.  except  I-'ri- 
days.  when  we  play  jramt-s—  ir"-haiiLr,  i-riM'  i_>  •. 
or  logomachy.  1  just  loved  ""Tony  Tyler."  1 
ha\  e  t  \\  o  doi;s,  and  they  always  follow  tin-  car 
riairc  :  om-  is  a  hue  hunting  doi:,  and  tlic  <>\  h>  r 
isn't.  Kux  X.  W. 

Where  dors  Kux  live?    He  forgot  t"  tell  us. 


n.  it  been  well  since,  but  the  doctor  says  I  will 
be  aioiiiid  again  ill  a  few  days.  I  told  mamma 
this  is  the  place  for  well  people  to  vet  sick,  and 

Sick  people   to   get   well.      It   is   a  vel>    lliee  place, 

though.  because-  they  make  mamma  well  and  do 
not  give  me  any  medicine,  but  they  will  ii'>i  let 
me  read  or  write  now.  I  like  the  Swedish  move- 
ment and  eleelricily  better  than  I  do  tin-  to 
mentation*  and  hot  packs. 

One  da)  George  and  I  were  up  on  the  mount- 
ain, among  the  nival  old  chestnut,  dogwood. 
and  juniper  trees,  lying  on  a  great  i:ii»s  cover 
e'l  -ii'Me.  \\h-n  we  saw  about  a  dozen  squirrels 
lumping,  playing,  and  scolding  above  onr  heads. 
It  was  tun  to  watch  them,  George  wished  he 
had  his  irun,  but  I  did  not. 

1  am  leu  years  old.  I  wish  I  eould  sec  liar 
mini's  barkers  perform.  I  wish  I  had  a  book  to 
teach  me  how  lo  train  dogs.  Do  you  know  oi 
any  ?  I  hare  a  splendid  givat  wate'h-eh.g  at  home 
\Vc  call  him  ra-sar.  It  was  a  I  most  a ~  hard  to  say 
trood  by  to  him  as  to  my  brother  \V ill.  Was  that 

wi g"  I  send  love  to  you  and  all  the  letter- 

write,,  STAM.KY  C  li 

I'  -s  I  received  a  beautiful  book  just  liet'ore  I 
left  home  from  my  teacher  for  being  the  best 
speller  in  school.  Is  this  too  long  for  you  to  put 

ill   I  he    I'i  ,-[    i  iltiee    Jii  ix  •       I    hupe   Hot 

I  am  verj  s,,rry  you  met  with  so  dreadful  an 
accident  In  Ilvuri.u's  Y'UNU  PEOPLE  No  i:.t;. 
Vol  111  .  yon  will  n'nd  a  capital  article'  on  the 
training  and  te-aching  of  deigs  liy  Edward  I  Sic 
ve-nson.  who  knows  all  about  them. 


I  have  written  to  the  Post-office  Box  be!'»n  , 
tint  my  letter  was  not  printed,  so  I  am  going  in 
tr\  a-. (ill.  and  hope  this  letter  will  Hot  go  into 
the  pigeon  hole.  I  go  to  the  lla\cs  School,  and 
I  am  studying  (Jermaii.  I  have  a  sister  and  a 
brother,  Fannie  and  1'lyde.  I  ha\e  a  liltle  elm; 
about  ten  inches  high,  and  his  name  is  Jumbo. 
lie  runs  away  with  everything  he  gets  hold  ot 
Me  goes  out  in  i  he  strei  i  u  hen  the  boys  are  pla  > 
ing  marbles,  and  he  runs  away  with  ihe  marble- 
\Ve  had  a  cat.  but  when  we  moved  the  eat  Wi  mid 
not,  live  in  our  new  house.  I  have  some  old  pa 
pers  of  Chicago  in  1ST:].  74.  anil  '">.  At  night  my 
brother  and  si s ter  play  dominoes,  except  Thurs- 
day. Then  we  read  HAKPKII'S  YOTNI.  I'l  on  L  I 
think  "  liaising  the'  '  Pearl'  "  is  a  splendid  story. 

I'KUIN     G. 


ATMFS*.  IVv\n  i  v  '.M  *. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.  and  ha\e  bei  n 
taking  II  \  1:1-1  u's  Yorxii  PKOPLI-:  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  year,  and  like  it  very  much.  I  can 
hardly  wait  from  one  Tnesila>  to  the  next. 
.Mamma  or  sister  Ida  reads  the  stories  lor  me  e\ 

er\     \\eek         I   have   no   pels   e\eept   one  cat    named 

Jumbo.  I  think  he  is  very  wonderful.  Some 
times  he  tries  lo  steal  a  drink  of  milk  from  the 
cream  pilehcr  ;  he  can  not  get  his  head  in,  s,  ,  do 
Sticks  his  toot  in  and  laps  the  milk  from  it.  I 
Willie  who  comes  to  play 
Doi  1.1  \-  K.  B. 


hi    •      i     'I:!'     'i  ' 
with  me'  very  often 


WAYSIDE,  Mn-issirn. 

I  am  a  liltle  girl  sis  years  old.  My  sisicr  and  T 
take  your  dear  little  paper.  She  sent  you  a  gne'ss 
at  Wiggle  No.  31.  Hers  was  an  alligator,  and  a  I 
though  there  are  two  alliirators  in  our  last  paper, 
he-is  does  not  appear.  We  hope  to  see  it  yet. 
though,  because  we  think  it  real  good.  My  papa 
has  sold  his  plaee  here. and  is  going  to  Texas.  It 
is  so  lar  away  I'm  afraid  YOCNC;  PEOPLE  will  nev-  I 
er  find  us,  and  that's  what  grieves  me  We  will 
write  after  we  get  there,  and  tel!  you  where  to  ! 
send  it.  Uncle  ('ale  tells  us  that  all  the  boys  in 
Texas  are  "cowboys."  That  isn't  so.  is  it . 

AMMIE  W. 

I'ncle  Cale  ought  to  know.  Does  he  keep  a 
sober  face  when  he  tells  you  that  story  about  the 
Texas  boys?  YOTNG  PEOPLE  will  be  sure  to  find 
you,  if  you  remember  to  send  your  new  address. 


T.TL-SVM.LK.  PKVNSVI.VAM,. 

Very  often  children  pet  tired  of  their  toys  and 
cry  for  something  new.  and  most  likely  their  cry- 
ing makes  their  parents  or  older  sisters  angry 
with  them.  Take  a  ledger,  or  day-book,  or  any  • 
such  book  that  is  not  wanted,  whether  full  of 
writing  or  not.  and  cut  out  about  half  the  pages 
(do  not  tear  them,  as  it  will  make  those  you  do  not 
want  come  out;,  and  then  take  any  cards  you  do 
not  want,  and  paste  them  in.  Cut  out  pictures 
and  paste  them  in  also,  arranging  them  as  pret- 
tily as  possible.  Get  colored  ones  if  possible,  as 
the  others  will  not  look  very  nice,  or  put  a  large 
card  in  the  middle,  and  arrange  other  pictures 
around  it.  or  fix  them  in  any  way  that  is  pretty. 

I  made  one  for  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
find  it  very  convenient.  I  think,  if  some  of  the 
subscribers  of  Yeirxe;  PEOPLE  will  make  one  for 
their  younger  brothers  or  sisters,  that  they  will 
like  it  very  much.  They  will  feel  proud  to  say 
that  they  have  a  scrap-book  as  well  as  Susie  or 
Anna.  M.  li. 


I  am  sick  in  bed.  My  mamma  has  just  been 
reading  to  me  the  letters  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I 
like  them  very  much,  ami  asked  her  to  write  one 
forme.  My  home  is  in  Northern  Wisconsin,  in  the 
town  of  Medford.  It  wastoocold  there  formam- 
ma  (the  mercury  below  zero  for  one  month*,  and 
she  was  taken  ill.  so  a  few  weeks  ago  she  came 
here  and  brought  me  with  her.  My  cousin  George, 
who  is  fourteen  years  old,  came  with  us  to  be 
cured  of  asthma.  He  is  much  better. 

We  had  fine  fun  coasting  here  for  a  few  days  on 
a  pair  ot  bobs  down  the  long  hill ;  but  one  day  the 
bob  broke,  and  we  were  all  thrown  off.     I  hit  I 
the  back  of  my  head  and  the  lower  end  of  my 
spine  very  hard  against  the  stone  wall,  and  have 


Here  is  a  voiing  gentleman  who  kneiws  how  to 
\x  lite  a  business  h'tte-r  : 

I  sau  in  the-  I'ost  eitne'e  I!ox  a  le-tler  freun  Nor- 
man T.  asking  how  you  would  write  an  onler  for 
a  tailor's  geiose-  if  t  \\  o  were  want  eel.  Here  is  th,. 
way  1  would  write  one: 

Kv\N«T,>\.  ILLINOIS,  .tf.irrA  21.1.  1--  ':. 

Vr  .«;•.*.  llii>iuii-ii.  Spencer,  .1 

GSNTLBJCBN,  Have  you  an  article  called  a  tai 
l.ir's  goose;  If  so.  please  send  two  of  the  above 

name,!  arli<  les  i,,  FRANK  <.eu  i  n 

PHILADELPHIA,  PRNHBYLVANIA. 

Onr  brother  takes  Ynrxr,  PEOPLE,  and  mamma 
n,  els  it  to  us  in  the  evening.  We  like  Jimmy 
Brown's  stories  best.  We  wish  he  would  write 
some  more'.  Won't  you  ask  him  teiV  Mamma 
gave  us  a  darling  little  bunny  with  pink  eyes  ,„, 
l-'ast.'r:  Hob  (that  is  our  brotheri  is  going  to 
make  a  house  for  him.  We  often  go  out  to  Fair- 
mount  Park  when  the'  weather  is  pleasant,  and 
sometimes  we  take  our  dolls:  we  have  ten  of 
tin-in,  our  siste-r  is  writing  this  letter  for  us; 
she  is  ever  so  kind  to  us.  Will  you  please  print 
this  letter,  as  we  have  never  had  any  thing  of  ours 
printed  before? 

LENA  and  LOTTA  A.  (aged  5  years). 


I.EWiKT'ix,  MAINE. 

I  want  to  tell  you  what  is  eh  me-  with  the 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  that  comes  to  my  mother  every 
\\  eek  My  father  is  the  rector  here,  and  mejther 
has  a  class  e>f  small  boys  in  Sunday  -school.  Aft- 
er Yen-No  PEOPLE  comes  she  puts  a  thick  wrap- 
ping-paper cover  on  it,  and  lends  it  to  the  old- 
est boy  in  her  class.  He-  keeps  it  one  \\ee-k. 
and  then  brings  it  back  the  next  Sunday,  and  it 
goes  to  Ihe  ne-xt  oldest,  and  so  on.  In  this  way 
tin  v  each  have  a  new  one  every  week.  Then, 
after  it  has  g.<me  through  the  class, down  t<i  the 
youngest  boy.  she  takes  it  again,  and  lends  it  to 
the  boy  who  bleiws  the  organ  in  church.  One 
day  this  week  he'  came  to  the  door  and  wante-d 
to  know  if  "this  boy"— a  policeman's  son— 
"couldn't  have  it  to  read."  So  that  makes  an- 
other one.  Then  mother  takes  off  the  extra  cov- 
er and  sends  it  by  mail  to  one  of  my  cousins — or 
rather  tei  three  of  them  in  one  family.  When 
they  are  done  with  it  they  take  it  to  two  more  of 
my  little  cousins,  ami  then  it  geies  to  still  another, 
and  even  afonrth.  There  it  stops,  and  is  stowed 
away  in  the  bottom  of  a  book-case.  But  mother 
says  she'  is  going  to  have  them  all  again,  to  make 
a  scrap-book  of,  though  I  tell  her  it  will  be  a 
>r/v//*-heiok  indeed — of  very  small  scraps.  She 
says  she  never  invested  a  dollar  and  a  half  better 
in  her  life,  and  I  think  so  too.  D.  C.  W. 


ALICE.— There  is  no  book  that  teaches  all  that 
is  to  be  learned  before  you  can  be  a  good  lawn- 
tennis  player.  The  principal  rules  and  some  ac- 
count of  the  game  were  given  in  No.  84  of  HAR- 
PER'S Youxci  PEOPLE,  and  Xos.  44  and  45,  Vol. 
XIV.,  of  HARPER'S  BAZAR  contain  some  very 


hints  about  positions  in  play.  etc.     The 

'  l.ni'i,   1',  in, \f  an-  p'lblishcd  by  Wright  .v. 
Ditson,  Boston. 

VIOLA.— Plenty  of  cold  water  freely  used,  and 
n -gu  lar  exercise  both  out -door*  and  in.  will  make 
your  skin  clear,  your  eyes  bright,  and  yourcheeks 
rees>.  A  good  complexion  is  the  sign  of  perfect 
health,  s.i  if  \on  take  i -are  of  the  one,  the  other 
will  lake  e-are  of  itself  Have  you  a  garden?  If 
so.  an  hour's  weirk  daily  among  the  plants  from 
this  tiim-  until  autumn  will  help  to  make  you 
strong,  cheerful,  and  beautiful  too. 


H.  D.  I..— A  party  call  is  a  call  made  upon  a 
hostess  within  a  week  after  the  party  at  which 
she  has  e-titiTtained  her  friends. 


1TZ/I.KS  FHOM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 
ABSENT  VOWELS. 

1.  <' — RT — (i — .  a  nienintain  in  Central  America. 
-.'  T     I.     M     .  in  South  America. 

3.  —  T— C—  L—  .M— .  in  Seiuth  America. 

4.  .1— XGFR .  in  Europe. 

f,.  K— P— T-N.  in  Siberia. 

0.  — P— U N— .  in  one  of  the  Society  Islands. 

ETHEL  VICTOR. 


No.  '.' 

DOUBLE   ACROSTIC. 

1  \n  ancient  marintrr.  2.  An  adverb.  3.  A 
State  ..f  i  he  Tnion.  4.  To  sound.  5  A  famous 
woman.  0.  Aquatic  fowls.  K..J.  Sni:rp.\RD. 

No.  :i. 

TWO    EASY    DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  vowel.  £.  A  century.  3.  A  girl's  name. 
I.  I  slippery  fish.  ~>  in  \essi-i.  B.  SHEPPAUD. 

2. — 1.  A  letter,  s.  A  utensil.  3.  A  city  in  Japan. 
I.  A  point.  r>.  A  letter  MAUIK. 


No.  4. 

M'MERICAI.    ENIGMA. 

I  am  composed  of  15  letters,  and  I  am  one  of 
the  Se-vi'ii  Wonelers  of  the  World. 
My  1.- 1.  •..'settles  a  debt. 
My  3. 11.  I  a  is  a  boy's  pet  name. 
My  V.  I!.  :>  is  between  the  lights. 
My  s.  '.i.  Id.  I  is  a  pie-ce  of  furniture. 
M  y  ]  1.  4. 15  is  a  caress 
My  :i,4.  13  is  a  sunbeam.  ADDIE  OWEN. 


ANSWERS  Til  PUZZLES  IN  No.  178. 

CLASP 
MAINE 
A  Y  A  L  A 
T  ROPE 
T  U  R  K  S 
T  I  L  T  II 
M  E  L  O  N 
ELUDE 
A  L  P  II  A 
W  o  K  R  Y 


No.  2. 


R 

R  O  B 

ROYAL 

B  A  K 

I, 


A 

r  K 

E 


T 
RE 

i  A 

A  R 
I, 


No.  ?,. 
N.I.  4. 

No  .i. 


No.  (',. 


E 

CAP 

EAGLE 

PLY 

E 

Hour-glass. 
Plague.    Ague. 

HOUSE 
o  p  I  r  M 
RINSE 

s  I  s  A  N 
E  M  !-:  N  I> 

A  N  T) 
BOY 
I)  R  Y 
A  W  E 
BAT 
EYE 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Marie.  James  H.  Dewson.  Joseph  Warner, 
L.  C.  Johnston.  H.  C.  Brearley.  Harry  Greenleaf, 
Edith  Jennings.  Lottie  Wenner.  P.  S.  Weseott,  C. 
Norman  Trump,  A.  I).  Williams.  Jun..  William  o. 
Harpe-r.  ('aniline  J.  Lyman.  Helen  Keese,  Pussie 
Wheeler,  Jenny  Price,  Arthur  Leigh.  Fred  and 
Fenimore  Dayton.  J.  Allen.  Jun.,  Theodore  0., 
A.  R.  D..  Princess  Daisy.  Emily  Sykes.  Bob  Bright, 
Chester  T.,  A.  G.  Hume,  and  Earl  Fletcher. 


[For  Exchanges,  fee  2rf  and  M  pages  of  cover.] 


384- 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


GOSSAMERS. 

BY  JENNY  MARSH  PARKER. 

I   went    out    with   my    brel-um- 

ber-ee, 
The  rain  pouring  down,  pray  what 

did  I  see 

Out  there  by  the  school-house  just  before  nine? — 
Some  forty  o<kl  somethings  hard  to  define. 

They  were  black — oh,  so  black  ! — except  a  white  nose. 
Perhaps  they  were  crazy  overgrown  crows ; 
Perhaps  they  were  turtles — big  fellows  that  go 
Tiptoeing  around  on  their  hiud-legs,  you  know. 

There,  now  !     I  have  guessed  it!     It's  plain   as  can  be! 
They  were  seals,  bobbing  seals,  jnst  up  from  the  sea. 
A  shower  won't  hurt  'em.     They're  going  to  try 
What  it  is  to  be  quiet  iu  school,  aud  get  dry. 


A  STORY  OF  A  CHAFFINCH. 

1AM  going  to  tell  you  a  true  story  about  a  chaffinch.  One 
morning  when  I  came  down-stairs  I  heard  a  givat  chattering 
going  on,  and  went  to  the  door  to  sec.  what  was  the  matter.  I 
saw  a  chaffinch  lying  on  the  ground  under  a  tree,  and  another 
flying  and  dancing  round  it  and  kissing  it.  By  kissing  it  I  mean 
putting  its  beak  close  to  the  other's,  as  I  dare  say  you  have  often 
seen  birds  in  a  cage  do. 

I  went  to  the  bird  and  took  it  up,  and  found  that  it  was  warm, 
bnt  quite  dead.  When  I  took  it  iu  my  band  the  mate  hopped  on 
to  the  twig  .jnst  above,  my  head,  as  if  to  see  what  I  was  doing 
with  it.  I  then  laid  it  down  on  the  same  spot,  and  went  in  to 
breakfast.  All  through  breakfast  the  bird  went  on  in  the  same 
way.  Afterward  I  went  to  my  household  duties.  Then,  as  it  still 
kept  on  doing  the  same,  I  took  away  the  dead  bird  and  put  it  be- 
hind the  outside,  window-blind  of  the  drawing-room,  the  window 
being  wide  open.  The  chaffinch,  however,  kept  hovering  near 
the  window,  and  did  not  seem  to  mind  my  being  there. 

Presently  I  went  away  into  the 
garden  for  half  an  hour,  and  when 
I  came  back  I  found  that  the 
chaffinch  had  carried  away  the1 
dead  bird  and  laid  it.  under  the 
same  tree,  and  was  again  doing 
all  it  could  to  rouse  it;  first  chirp- 
ing, then  singing  a.  long  note, 
then  tlying  down  and  hovering 
round  it  and  kissing  it :  then  set- 
tling on  the  branch  once  more, 
and  trying  another  note.  It. 
went  on  in  this  way  the  whole 
day,  seldom  leaving  its  dead 
mate,  or,  so  far  as  I  saw,  taking 
any  food;  and  so  I  left  it  when  I 
went  to  bed  at  night,  and  next 
morning  when  I  came  down  it 
\\as  still  there,  going  on  in  the 
same  way. 

Then  1  felt  that  it  was  cruel  to 
let  the  poor  little  bird  go  on  any 
longer,  so  I  took  away  the  dead 
bird  and  buried  it,  and  from  that 
time  I  saw  no  more  of  the  other 
chaffinch,  though  I  often  thought 
of  it,  and  hoped  it  would  find  an- 
other mate. 


B 


\ 


/C\ 


PRISONER'S  BASE. 

BY  AN  OLD  BOY. 

kON'T  be  afraid  of  the  game  because  of  the 
diagram,  boys,  for  yon  can  readily  mark  it 
out  on  any  kind  of  ground,  and  it  is  by  no  means 
necessary  that  the  lines  should  be  drawn  straight 
or  even. 

The  squares  A  aud  B  are  the  bases,  which  must  be 
large  enough  to  contain  all  the  players;  the  small- 
er squares,  A-l  aud  B-l,  are  the  prisons.  The 
number  of  players  must  he  evenly  divided,  each 
side  having  a  captain,  and  they  must  occupy  the 
bases.  Having  decided  which  side  shall  open 
the  game,  the 
captain  sends 
out  one  of  his  men,  who 
goes  to  C,  cries  out  "Chivy," 
and  then  runs  back  to  his 
base.  If  one  of  the  opposite 
side  can  touch  him  before 
lie  gets  home,  he  is  obliged 
to  go  to  prison  ;  if  belong- 
ing to  A  side,  he  goes  to  A-l, 
if  to  B  side,  to  B-l,  remain- 
ing there  until  one  of  his 
party  can  take  him  out. 

The  pursuing  player  is, 
of  course,  not  allowed  to 
chase  the  "chivy"  unmo- 
lested, one  of  "chivy's" 
side  being  ordered  to  pur- 
sue and  touch  him,  and 
this  latter  becomes  iu  his 
turn  an  object  of  pursuit; 
and  thus,  if  the  two  cap- 
tains so  decide,  each  player 

may  be  pursuing  and  pursued.  It  is  not  allowed  that  more  than 
one  shall  chase  one.  of  the. other  side,  therefore  each  boy  has  his 
own  particular  object  of  pursuit. 

A  player  may  only  touch  that  opponent  who  has  left  home 
before  himself,  and  can  of  course  only  lie  touched  b\  one  who  has 
left  after  him.  When  a  player  has  made  a  capture  he'  has  the 
right  to  return  home  without  being  pursued,  and  can  not  be 
touched  until  he  starts  out  again. 

A  player  once  touched  is  obliged  to  go  to  his  prison,  and  re- 
main there  until  one  of  his  side  can  reach  him  untouched,  when 
both  may  return  in  safety  to  the  home  base.  The  prisoner 
need  keep  only  his  feet  in  prison,  and  may  reach  over  the  line  as 
far  as  possible.  If  there  are  several  prisoners,  they  may  form  a 
chain,  one  only  remaining  in  prison,  aud  the  others  extending  as 
far  outside  as  the  length  of  their  arms  will  permit. 

The  game  is  won  by  the  side  which  succeeds  in  getting  all  the 
members  of  the  opposite  side  in  prison  at  one  time. 


"  THIS    DAY    A    STAG    MUST    DIE." 


HARPER 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.      NO.  is-.' 


PUBLISHED  i;v   I!  A  UI'KK  A-    I!  ROT  HERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Til.  xlay,    \|iril  -M.  1SKJ. 


:.   1^  ;.  l.y     ti*UfKK    Jt 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


RAISING    THE    "PEARL."      -BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

AUTHOR  OF  "ToBY  TYLER."  "TiM  AM>  TIP."  ".Mi;.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 
CIIAPTEK  VIII. 

WORKING    ON    THK    It A  ITS. 


IX  ordi'i-  not  to  spend  tli<'  time  nc- 
i-rssary    to    <n>    to    tin-    lioti'l    for 


-       . 

S—--  ' 


hi-pakfast.  Dare  asked  that  lie  and 
Bobby  inig-ht  be  allowed  to  go  di- 
rectly to  Captain  Sammy's  dock, 
where  they  could  get  both  the  boat 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


386 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


and  the  chain-cables,  -while  Charley  should  go  to  the  hotel 
for  sufficient  food  to  serve  them  as  breakfast  and  dinner. 

This  Mr.  Evans  consented  to,  while  Captain  Sammy 
forwarded  matters  very  much  by  saying  that  he  would 
attend  to  ordering  the  lumber  and  nails,  and  then  the  sail- 
boat was  headed  for  the  sunken  Pearl. 

Upon  arriving  there  the  logs  were  left,  anchored  near 
the  beach,  and  since  it  was  then  ebb-tide,  they  would  be 
aground  ready  for  the  boys  to  begin  work  on  them  by  the 
time  they  should  return. 

Here  also  Mr.  Evans  and  Charley  were  landed,  as  they 
were  then  nearer  the  hotel  than  they  would  be  at  the  lit- 
tle Captain's  dock,  and  then  the  sail-boat  started  again. 

At  the  dock  the  tender  was  brought  out  of  the  boat- 
house  in  which  she  had  been  placed  to  protect  her  from 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  the  boys  were  surprised  to  find  that 
she  was  as  neat  and  serviceable  a  little  craft  as  they  could 
have  wished  for.  From  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
been  spoken  of  they  expected  to  find  an  ordinary  boat, 
rather  the  worse  for  wear,  instead  of  one  that  hardly  bore 
marks  of  usage. 

The  building  in  which  Captain  Sammy  stored  what  he 
called  ''odds  and  ends"  looked  more  like  a  regular  shop 
than  an  ordinary  store-house,  for  in  it  could  have  been 
found  almost  everything  necessary  to  fit  out  a  vessel  for 
a  long  cruise. 

After  the  chain-cables,  which  were  to  be  used  to  pass 
under  the  Pearl  and  fasten  to  the  rafts,  had  been  laid 
aside  for  transportation.  Captain  Sammy  selected  a  num- 
ber of  smaller  chains,  which  he  explained  could  be  used  to 
fasten  the  ends  of  the  logs  together. 

Hammers,  wrenches,  and  a  quantity  of  stout  staples  to 
fasten  the  ends  of  the  chains  were  also  selected  from  the 
general  stuck,  and  when  at  last  the  little  man  concluded 
they  had  enough  with  which  to  begin  work,  it  was  found 
that  it  made  altogether  too  much  of  a  load  for  the  small 
boat  to  carry. 

' '  You  can  take  the  smaller  things  with  you,  an.'  I'll  send 
the  heavier  stuff  by  the  same  team  that  takes  the  lumber," 
said  Captain  Sammy,  and  the  boys  started  at  once,  only 
too  anxious  to  begin  operations  without  further  loss  of 
time. 

Although  they  had  not  spent  much  time  at  the  dock, 
they  found  Charley  waiting  for  them  when  they  rounded 
the  point  beyond  which  the  Pearl  lay  in  her  watery  rest- 
ing-place. 

He  had  with  him  a  plentiful  supply  of  provisions  and  a 
pail  of  water;  but  the  wonderfully  good  news  which  he 
brought  received  more  immediate  attention  than  the  food 
did,  hungry  as  they  were. 

The  landlord  of  the  hotel,  who  knew,  as  almost  every 
one  in  Tampa  did  by  this  time,  of  the  work  which  the  boys 
had  on,  hand,  had  proposed  to  Mr.  Evans  that  the  young 
workmen  be  saved  the  trouble  and  time  of  walking  back 
and  forth  from  the  hotel  to  the  scene  of  their  labors.  In 
order  to  avoid  this  he  had  offered  to  loan  them  a  shelter 
tent  and  some  bedding,  and  Mr.  Evans  having  accepted 
the  oit'cr,  the  tent  would  be  sent  down  some  time  during 
the  day. 

It  was  great  news,  to  be  sure,  and  they  felt  that  even  if 
1hey  t'id  not  succeed  in  raising  the  Pearl,  they  should  have 
a  glorious  time  camping  out  on  the  beach. 

After  their  excitement  had  subsided  sufficiently,  they 
ate  their  breakfast,  and  a  very  hearty  one  they  made  too, 
and  then,  the  tide  having  gone  down  so  far  as  to  leave  the 
logs  high  and  dry,  they  began  their  work,  which  they  felt 
confident  would  be  crowned  with  success. 

The  two  timbers  that  were  to  form  the  sides  of  one  of 
the  rafts  were  hollowed  out  at  each  end,  so  that  the  logs 
which  were  to  be  placed  on  them  would  rest  firmly,  and 
the  same  work  was  performed  on  those  that  were  to  serve 
as  ends.  Then  the  four  were  laid  together,  forming  very 
nearly  a  square,  and  around  their  overlapping  ends  were 


placed  chains,  which  were  made  secure  by  driving  staples 
through  the  links  into  the  logs. 

It  was  nearly  two  hours  before  the  first  one  was  thus 
made  ready  for  the  planking,  but  the  time  was  well  spent, 
for  the  timbers  were  fastened  as  securely  as  a  carpenter 
could  have  done  it. 

This  work  was  hardly  completed  when  Captain  Sam- 
my, seated  on  a  huge  load  of  lumber,  rode  slowly  down 
the  beach,  and  under  his  direction  the  planks  were  laid 
across  the  logs  and  nailed  firmly  in  their  places.  In  this 
way  a  double  flooring  was  laid,  which,  although  it  was  not 
water-tight,  of  course,  would  have  very  great  buoyancy, 
which  even  a  larger  craft  than  the  Pearl  could  hardly  over- 
come. 

While  this  work  was  being  done  some  of  the  men  from 
the  hotel  brought  the  tent  and  bedding,  and  Captain  Sam- 
my exerted  himself  to  give  a  good  many  more  than  the 
necessary  orders  in  regard  to  putting  it  up,  at.  the  same 
time  that  he  was  issuing  commands  thick  and  fast  to  the 
builders  of  the  raft. 

Therefore,  by  the  time  the  boys  were  ready  for  their 
dinner,  they  were  able  to  eat  it  within  the  tent,  through, 
the  open  flaps  of  which  they  could  see  one  of  their  lifting 
machines  all  ready  to  be  floated  off  to  the  sunken  steamer, 
whose  smoke-stack  was  then  showing  above  the  water. 

Captain  Sammy  had  invited  himself  to  dinner,  and 
despite  the  manner  in  which  he  had  ordered  them  around 
during  the  forenoon,  they  were  glad  to  have  him  with 
them,  for  with  all  his  bluster  and  scolding,  his  companion- 
ship was  pleasant,  and  he  rendered  them  a  great  deal  of 
assistance. 

He  scolded  because  he  was  obliged  to  stay  there  and 
superintend  the  operations,  when  both  he  and  they  knew 
that  it  was  his  own  pleasure  to  be  there.  He  fussed  about 
this  thing  and  that  until  the  boys  were  more  than  ever 
convinced  that  his  petulant  ways  concealed  a  good-na- 
tured, cheery  old  gentleman. 

But  during  all  the  time,  when  he  talked  of  almost  every- 
thing, not  one  word  did  he  speak  regarding  the  pirate  of 
Dollar  Island. 

From  the  time  they  had  returned  to  the  mainland,  even 
though  so  many  things  had  occurred  to  make  him  happy, 
Dare  had  been  anxious  regarding  Tommy  Tucker,  and 
now.  while  they  were  enjoying  an  after-dinner  rest,  and 
Captain  Sammy  appeared  to  be  in  such  excellent  humor, 
he  resolved  to  speak  a  good  word  for  the  captive. 

At  first  he  tried  to  bring  the  conversation  around  so  that 
the  little  man  would  speak  first  of  the  prisoner;  but  in 
this  he  was  unsuccessful,  for  he  carefully  avoided  a  men- 
tion of  the  ex-pirate's  name. 

Then  Dare  spoke  of  the  discomfort  of  being  obliged  to 
remain  in  such  a  place  as  Dollar  Island,  and  concluded  by 
reminding  the  Captain  that  Tommy  was  there  with  no- 
thing to  eat,  and  no  chance  of  making  his  escape. 

''  An'  I  hope  he  will  stay  there,  too,"  said  Captain  Sam- 
my, savagely.  "I  jest  hope  he'll  have  to  stay  there  two 
weeks  anyhow,  an1  then  when  he  gets  over  here  I'll  make; 
it  lively  enough  for  him  so  he'll  forget  he's  ever  been  lone- 
some." 

"  But  he  would  starve  to  death  !"  exclaimed  Dare,  hor- 
rified at  the  thought  of  any  one  being  forced  to  remain  so 
long  in  such  a  place. 

'•-Starve?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  knows  how  to  find  plen- 
ty to  eat,  an'  if  he  does  go  hungry  a  little  while  it  '11  do 
him  a  power  of  good." 

Surely  it  did  seem  as  if,  in  Captain  Sammy's  present 
state  of  mind,  he  would  never  consent  to  any  plan  for 
Tommy's  relief;  but  Dare  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  so 
easily.  He  told  the  Captain  boldly  that  he  was  anxious 
to  go  after  the  boy,  and  asked  him  to  consent  to  their  go- 
ing, because,  in  a  certain  sense,  it  was  for  him  to  say  how- 
much  punishment  Tommy  should  receive. 

Captain  Sammy  was,  or  professed  to  be,  in  a  towering 


APRIL  24,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOITXG  PEOPLE. 


387 


rage  wlion  Dare  concluded,  and  lie  declared  that  they 
should  not  go  to  Dollar  Island  if  lie  was  obliged  to  stand 
guard  over  them  all  night  in  order  to  prevent  it. 

Dare  argued  and  entreated  for  a  long  time,  but  all  to  no 
purnose,  until  Captain  Sammy,  as  if  tired  at  being  urged  so 
strongly,  said,  with  a  growl  of  impatience, 

"  If  I'll  agree  to  your  goiii'  after  that  villain,  will  you 
agree  to  look  out  for  him  while  you  are  here,  an"  be  re- 
sponsible for  him  '." 

Dare  hesitated;  he  was  not  quite  willing  to  promise  so 
much,  for  fear  he  could  not  carry  it  out,  but  yet  he  felt 
ver\  anxious  to  release  the  boy. 

"  I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  sir,"  lie  replied,  after  some 
thought,  "and  we'll  make  him  promise  to  behave  himself." 

"()h,  he'll  promise  it  quick  enough,"  sneered  Captain 
Sammy.  "He'll  promise  anything;  but  you've  got  to  see 
that  he  keeps  his  word." 

"  We'll  all  do  the  best  we  can  to  look  out  for  him,  won't 
we,  boys  '"  asked  Dare,  pleased  at  the  thought  that  lie  had 
won  (.'a plain  Sammy  over  after  such  a  struggle. 

Charley  and  Bobby  nodded  their  heads  to  show  that 
the\  accepted  their  portion  of  the  contract,  although  Bob- 
by was  not  as  cheerful  about  it  as  Dare  would  have  liked 
to  have  seen  him. 

"  Now  I'll  give  my  consent  to  the  plan  if  you'll  promise 

that  you  woifl  go  after  him  unlil  tomorrow  inor j,  ' 

said  Captain  Sammy,  with  a  terrible  frown.  "One  day 
isn't  enough  to  give  him  all  he  needs  of  Hollar  Island." 

Dare  thought  it.  the  refinement  of  cruelly  to  keep  the 
poor  fellow  there  so  long,  no  mailer  how  much  wrong  lie 
had  (lone;  but.  Captain  Sammy  was  linn  in  the  stand  lie 
had  taken,  and  no  amount  of  persur..ion  could  shake  him. 

"  Not  an  hour  sooner,"  he  said,  decidedly  ;  "and  when 
you  land  him,  even  then  you  want,  to  be  sure  an'  keep  him 
away  from  here,  or  I'll —  Captain  Sammy  lapped  his 
wooden  leg  in  a  way  that  told  plainly  enough  what  he 
would  have  said. 

hare  was  obliged  to  content,  himself  with  having  SO 
far  overcome  the  injured  Captain:  but.  he  promised  him- 
self that  they  would  start  at  a  very  early  hour  on  the  next 
morning. 

"  Now  !" — and  Captain  Sammy  jumped  to  his  feet  as  if 
he  had  just,  discovered  that  they  had  been  wasting  valua- 
ble time—  "if  you  boys  think  you  can  \\  asle  your  time  in 
this  way,  you  are  mistaken.  The  Pearl  will  never  show 
her  bows  above  water  if  you  don't,  go  to  work." 

There  was  no  need  of  urging  the  boys  to  exert  ion,  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  shown  that  he  was  ready  to  continue  the 
labor  they  were  at  it  with  a  will. 

Owing  to  the  little  man's  disposition  to  work  as  well  as 
command,  the  second  raft  was  built  in  less  time  than  the 
lirst.  and  when  Captain  Sammy  started  for  home  it  was 
with  the  promise  that,  he  would  return  at.  low  water  on  the 
following  day,  and  help  them  to  make  fast  to  the  steamer. 

lioih  rafts  were  anchored  so  that  there  would  be  no 
possibility  of  their  drifting  away  during  the  night,  and 
the  boys  felt  that  they  had  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  their 
day's  work. 

Shortly  after  Captain  Sammy  had  left  them  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Evans  paid  them  a  visit.  Mr.  Evans  came  for  the 
purpose  of  bringing  them  something  to  eat,  and  his  wife 
that  she  might  be  sure  they  would  be  safe  and  comforta- 
ble during  the  night. 

It  was  while  Dare  was  talking  with  his  parents  about 
the  dilliculty  he  had  had  in  persuading  Captain  Sammy 
to  allow  them  to  go  for  Tommy,  that  his  mother  suggest- 
ed that  one  of  the  boys  should  dnd  out  where  Mrs.  Tucker 
lived,  so  that  she  might  be  told  of  her  son's  whereabouts. 

Charley  offered  to  carry  the  information  to  the  pirate's 
mother,  and  when  his  parents  returned  to  the  hotel  he 
accompanied  them,  leaving  Dare  and  Bobby  to  look  out 
for  the  camp,  and  to  speculate  upon  their  chances  for  lift- 
ing the  steamer  the  next  day. 


When  Charley  returned  he  reported  that  he  had  found 
Mrs.  Tucker's  house,  and  had  told  her  where  her  son  was. 
She  had  been  very  anxious  about  him.  but  as  soon  as  she 
knew  where  he  was  she  appeared  to  think  that  he  would 
get  home  in  some  way,  and  seemed  indifferent  about  the 
matter,  save  that  she  said  she  hoped  Captain  Sammy  would 
whip  some  of  Tommy's  foolish  ideas  out  of  his  head. 

The  boys  were  tired  enough  to  go  to  bed  early;  but 
before  they  did  so  they  were  obliged  to  wait  until  the  tide 
had  tloated  the  rafts,  so  that  they  could  anchor  them  in 
the  proper  position  for  beginning  the  morrow's  work. 

When  that,  was  done,  and  their  boat  had  been  drawn  up 
somedistance  on  the  beach,  the  boys  rolled  into  their  camp- 
bed,  where  the  ripple  of  the  water  on  the  beach  lulled  them 
to  sleep  in  a  remarkably  short  time, 
[id  «K  r 


RIDING  AX   ALLIGATOR. 

P.Y   S.  MII.I.KIi. 

I  CAME  in  my  journey  to  the  banks  of  a  river  which 
was  crossed  by  a  ford.  A  train  of  pack  mules  was 
pa-MU'j-.  and  \\hile  waiting  my  turn  I  went  into  the  fer- 
ry-house to  escape  the  heal  of  ihe  morning  sun.  Several 
other  geiillemen  were  there.  Presently  an  Indian  came 
to  i  he  d •  and  addressed  us  in  Spanish,  saying, 

"  Would  the  sen  ores  like  lo  see  me  ride  the  alligator  ?" 

Handing  around  his  lial.  he  received  with  satisfaction 
gold  pieces  amounting  in  value  to  nearly  live  dollars. 
lie  placed  these  in  Ins  money-belt,  and  saying,  "J  am 
ready,"  led  the  u  a  y .  lie  then  drew  out  a  sharp  pointed 
knife,  and  felt,  its  edge-  as  he  walked. 

The  river  lay  before  us.  with  deep,  black  water  on  either 
side  i  he  shallow  ford.  The  opposite  bank  was  steep,  and 
a  don  at  my  side  remarked  that  below  the  water's  edge  it 
uas  dug  out,  ill  burrows,  where  the  caymans  (as  they  are 
called  in  those  parts)  were  wont,  to  lie  in  bad  weather  tier 
above  tier.  Now  they  were  out  in  full  force,  spread  over 
Ihe  sand  on  our  shore  like  scaly  lo^s. 

Our  Indian,  a  lithe,  active  fellow,  ran  lightly  up  to  one 
of  the  beasts,  and  before  the  astonished  animal  could  re- 
cover himself  enough  to  sweep  his  tail  around  and  dash 
him  down,  his  enemy  w;rs  upon  his  back,  and  had  seated 
himself  directly  behind  the  fore-legs,  clasping  the  body, 
and  holding  the  knife  still  in  his  hand.  Rage  and  fury 
entered  the  beast's  heart .  He  slipped  into  the  deep  water, 
and  made  for  his  particular  place  of  refuge.  Once  there, 
woe  to  his  rider!  But  the  dominion  given  to  man  over 
all  beasts  did  not  fail  now.  With  a  prick  of  the  knife 
in  the  creature  his  rider  defeated  his  purpose,  and  he 
plunged  madly  around  the  water  basin. 

No  ride  was  ever  wilder,  no  circus  rider  more  skillful, 
than  the  clinging  Indian  in  the  wild  race  that  was  now 
begitn.  Stirring  the  muddy  depths,  churning  the  waves 
with  the  greatest  commotion,  round  and  round  they  Hew, 
ever  faster  and  faster,  now  above,  now  below  the  surface. 
The  Indian,  cool  and  wary,  by  an  occasional  prod  of  the 
knife  caused  his  strange  steed  to  swerve  from  dangerous 
points.  Whichever  direction  he  wished  him  to  take,  he 
pricked  him  on  the  opposite  side. 

When  it  became  evident  to  our  circus-rider  that  he  had 
given  us  a  fair  display  of  his  powers,  we  saw  him  watch- 
fully a.nd  cautiously  prepare  to  land.  And  this  part  of 
the  exploit  was  most  wonderful  of  all.  How  to  leap  in 
mid-career  from  the  furious  creature — this  was  the  task- 
and  it  was  as  admirably  executed  as  any  other  part  of 
the  performance.  As  they  neared  our  shore,  the  Indian, 
having  gathered  himself  up,  leaped  lightly  off,  waded  to 
shore,  and  came  toward  us  with  as  much  of  a  smile  011  his 
sad  countenance  as  any  of  his  race  ever  show. 

Now  downward,  swifter  than  if  a  thousand  spurs  were 
driving  him,  dived  the  great  creature  to  solace  himself  in 
the  cool  sunless  caverns  of  the  river's  depths. 


388 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SPRING-TIME. 

BY  MRS.  SI.  E.  SANGSTER. 

MY  little  bright-eyed  darling. 
Pray  did  you  ever  see 
The  dainty  flower-angels 

Who  flit  through  bush  and  tree  ? 
They  come,  when  April  coaxes 

The  baby  leaves  apart. 
And  to  and  fro  on  errands 
Of  gentle  haste  they  dart. 

And  oil!  the  joy  they  feel,  dear, 

When,  in  a  tender  quest, 
Sonic  shining  April  morning 

They  find  a  fairy  nest. 
A  pretty  birdie's  cradle 

.lust  rocking  in  the  air. 
With  pearly  eggs  close  lying. 

Tucked  in  with  fondest  care. 

The  little  cherub  watchers 

Have  learned  one  secret  well — 
That  songs  and  wings  are  prisoned 

In  every  fragile  shell; 
But  till  the  shell  is  broken 

The  melodies  are  dumb, 
And  so  the  flower-angels 

To  free  the  birdies  come. 


STAR-FISH. 

BY  SARAH  COOPER. 

of  you  who  go  to  the  sea-shore  in  summer  have 
_I_  perhaps  discovered  that  star-fish  like  rocky  coasts  the 
best.  They  are  found  most  abundantly  where  the  crevices 
between  the  stones  afford  good  hiding-places  for  themselves 
and  fm-  l  ie  animals  upon  which  they  feed.  They  do  not 
thrive  upon  muddy  or  sandy  bottoms,  and  boys  and  girls 
hunting1  for  curiosities  upon  such  beaches  are  often  disap- 
pointed to  find  no  star-fish. 

They  spend  most  of  their  time  creeping  over  the  rocks, 
though  they  love  to  be  where  the  tide  will  ripple  over 
their  bodies  and  keep  them  well  supplied  with  sea  water, 
which  they  depend  upon  for  their  lives.  Those  poor 
half-dead  star-fish  which  we  sometimes  see  in  a  pitiful 
condition  on  the  beach  will  often  revive  if  placed  in  sea 
water,  or,  if  left  on  the  beach,  the  next  high  wave  may 
restore  them  by  carrying  them  out  to  sea  again. 

Our  dried  specimens  are  yellow,  but  when  alive  star- 
fish are  of  a  dull  red  color,  sometimes  tinged  with  purple. 
They  seem  plump  and  fat  on  being  taken  from  the  ocean. 


but  they  are  only  puffed  up  with  water;  and  if  you  watch 
them  closely  you  will  see  the  water  oozing  out  all  over 
the  back.  No  doubt  you  have  learned  how  tedious  and 
discouraging  it  is  to  attempt  to  dry  star-fish.  You  have 
perhaps  been  obliged  to  go  home,  as  many  before  you 
have  done,  and  leave  them  still  drying  in  the  sun.  It 
may  help  you  to  know  that  the  best  way  is  to  put  them 
first,  in  fresh-water,  which  kills  them  at  once;  then  leave 
them  for  an  hour  or  two  in  alcohol  to  harden  the  tissues 
before  placing  them  in  the  sun  or  in  a  warm  oven  to  dry. 

Our  common  star-fish  has  five  hollow  rays  or  arms,  ex- 
tending from  the  centre  like  a  star.  If  any  of  these  rays  are 
broken  off,  others  grow  in  their  places.  It  is  a  singular 
fact  that  these  animals  can  break  themselves  to  pieces,  or 
throw  off  their  rays,  when  they  become  alarmed.  A  gen- 
tleman who  was  not  familiar  with  this  odd  habit  of  the 
star-fish  was  once  strolling  on  the  beach,  and  carrying- 
carelessly  a  fine  large  specimen  by  one  of  its  rays.  Sud- 
denly the  inanimate-looking  creature  threw  off  one  of  the 
lower  rays.  The  look  of  dismay  with  which  the  gentle- 
man dropped  the  star-fish  when  he  found  it  was  breaking 
itself  to  pieces  was  highly  amusing.  In  this  case  the 
star-fish  accomplished  nothing  but  its  own  partial  destruc- 
tion, whereas  if  it  had  broken  off  the  ray  by  which  it 
was  held,  there  might  have  been  some  hope  of  escape  for 
the  remainder  of  its  body. 

Star-fish  glide  along  smoothly,  and  without  apparent 
effort.  They  bend  their  bodies  into  various  shapes  to  fit 


-; ' 


Fig.  1.— UNDER  SIDE  op  RAT. 

the  inequalities  of  the  surface  over  which  they  creep,  and 
in  order  to  do  this  they  require  a  movable  skeleton.  See 
how  beautifully  nature  has  provided  for  this  necessity  by 
forming  the  skeleton  of  thin  limestone  plates,  so  joined  as 
to  admit  of  slight  motion.  These  plates  are  represented 
iu  Fig.  1,  which  is  the  under  side 'of  a  ray,  and  the  end 
having  been  broken  off,  we  can  see  the  two  hollow  tubes 
which  it  contains. 

Look  now  at  the  upper  side  of  your  star-fish.  Fig.  3,  and 
notice  the  knobs  and  short  spines  with  which  it  is  covered. 


Fig.  2. — INTERIOR  op  RAT. 

BetwTeen  these  spines  are  tiny  forks,  with  two  prongs  that 
are  constantly  snapping.  The  use  of  the  forks  is  not  per- 
fectly understood ;  they  sometimes  catch  small  prey,  and 
they  may  also  be  useful  in  removing  particles  of  matter 
that  would  choke  up  the  pores  which  open  on  the  surface. 
The  first  thing  your  bright  eyes  will  discover  is  probably 
the  round  spot  near  the  middle  of  the  back  and  between 
two  of  the  rays..  That  is  called  the  ''madreporic  body," 
and  it  is  an  interesting  object.  Examine  it  with  your  mi- 
croscopes, and  try  to  think  what  those  tiny  holes  can  be  in- 


APRIL  24,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


:;so 


tended  for.  It  must  be  a  sieve.  Yes,  it 
is  a  sieve,  admitting  water  into  tubes 
which  run  to  the  end  of  each  ray.  Dur- 
inglife  lln>  nuidrrporic body  is  bright-col- 
ored, and  it  strains  all  the  water  that  en- 
ters tin-  t ulics,  so  there  is  no  danger  of 
their  becoming  choked. 

Now  if  we  turn  our  star-fish  over  we 
shall  find  its  mouth  on  the  under  side. 
This  is  an  important  organ,  too,  for  tin- 
star -fish  busy  themselves  continually 
with  eating.  They  are  especially  fond 
of  live  oysters  and  clams,  and  they  have 
the  oddest  way  of  eating  them.  The\ 
turn  their  stomachs  right  out  into  tht-oy>- 
ter  shell,  surrounding  the  soft  body  of 
the  oyster-,  and  sucking  it  up.  When 
the  star-tisli  feeds  it  not  only  bends  its 
rays  into  a  cup  shape  to  hold  on  to  its  prey, 
but  multitudes  of  tiny  suckers  spring  up 
to  help,  and  the  prey  ti nils  escape  impossi- 
ble. Oysters  are  generally  so  quick  to 
close  their  shells  in  time  of  danger  that 
we  can  not  understand  why  they  should 
allow  the  sluggish  star-fish  to  catch  them 
napping.  It  has  been  suggested  that  the 
.star-fish  drops  into  the  shell  some  liquid 
which  paraly/es  the  oyster,  but  this  no 
one  knows. 

So  you  see  the  star-fish,  without  any 
tools,  is  able  to  help  itself  to  raw  oysters. 
Do  you  not  think  it  has  the  advantage  ,  '  . 

here  of  boys  and  girls  ;  It  would  pn/./.le 
any  of  you,  I  imagine,  to  open  oysters 
without  a  knife  or  other  tool. 

The  way  in  which  star-fish  walk  is  also 

curious.  It  will  repay  you  well  to  examine  the  next  liv- 
ing star-fish  you  tind,  and  notice  the  odd  manner  in  which 
it  glides  along.  In  the  middle  of  each  ray  is  a  double  row 
of  hollow  tubes,  which  squirm  and  grope  a  round  like  a  mul- 
titude of  worms.  As  these  are  the  organs  by  which  they 
move,  they  are  called  tube-feet.  They  are  lengthened  and 
enlarged,  much  as  the  tentacles  of  sca-aiiemones  are,  by 
fillingthem  with  water.  For  this  purpose  each  tube  foot 
is  connected  with  a  little  round  bag  filled  with  water  from 
the  water  tube  running  down  the  ray.  When  the  bag  con 
tracts  it  forces  water  into  the  foot,  which  reaches  forward 
and  attaches  itself  by  a  round  sucker  on  the  end  to  the  sur- 
face over  which  the  animal  wishes  to  move.  In  this  way 
one  sucker  after  another  is  stretched  out  to  cling  to  the  sur- 
face, and  as  the  suckers  are  shortened  again  by  expelling 
the  water,  the  body  is  dragged  forward.  Fig.  2  shows  the 
interior  of  one  of  the  rays.  The  tube-feet,  g,  are  shrunken 
up  quite  short,  which  makes  the  water-bags,  h,  all  the 
larger.  Notice  the  mouth,  a,  the  stomach,  fe,  and  the  in- 
testine, c. 

The  double  rows  of  tube-feet  are  set  in  a  deep  groove. 
In  your  dried  specimens  the  tube-feet  have  shrivelled  up 
and  fallen  away,  and  in  the  grooves  you  will  probably  see 
a  number  of  delicate  plates  arranged  side  by  side  in  two 
rows.  These  are  called  "ambulacra!  plates,"  and  they 
are  sufficiently  far  apart  to  allow  water  to  flow  out  be- 
tween them  from  the  water-bags  into  the  tube-feet.  No- 
tice this  in  Fig.  1.  On  the  outer  edge  of  the  rays  is  a 
number  of  stiff  spines. 

Star-fish  have  a  liver  and  intestines.  Their  organs  do 
not  lie  wholly  in  the  central  portion,  but  they  extend  into 
the  five  hollow  arms.  They  also  have  nerves,  which 
surround  the  mouth  and  pass  down  each  arm,  where  the3r 
end  in  a  red  eye  speck.  This,  you  see,  gives  the  star-fish 
five  eyes.  You  would  think  that  with  such  a  number  of 
eyes  that  they  could  see  everything  that  is  going  on. 
But  these  eyes  are  not  perfect  like  yours,  and  it  is  very 


Fig.  3.— STAK-FISU  AT  HKJIE. 

probable  that  they  can  see  but  little.  Star-fish  are  said  to 
be  careful  of  their  eggs,  carrying  them  with  the  suckers 
near  the  mouth. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Agassiz  tells  the  following  story,  which 
would  seem  to  prove  that  they  not  only  see  well,  but  that 
they  are  very  faithful  to  their  young.  A  gentleman  who 
was  watching  a  star-fish  in  a  large  glass  dish  wished  to  ex- 
amine the  eggs  closely,  so  he  parted  the  suckers  around 
the  mouth,  and  took  the  eggs  away.  After  a  time  he 
placed  the  eggs  back  in  the  dish,  and  was  surprised  to  see 
the  star-fish  move  toward  them,  and  placing  itself  over 
them,  fold  them  again  in  its  suckers.  Thinking  this  must 
be  accidental,  he  took  the  eggs  again,  and  putting  the  star- 
fish in  a  larger  dish,  with  some  obstacle  in  the  middle,  he 
dropped  the  eggs  in  the  opposite  end  of  the  dish.  The 
star-fish,  creeping  over  the  obstacle,  went  immediately  to 
the  eggs  and  took  possession.  The  experiment  was  tried 
the  third  time,  and,  as  before,  the  mother  lost  no  time  in 
gathering  up  the  eggs  and  snugly  tucking  them  away  un- 
der her  suckers. 

The  star-fish's  fondness  for  fresh  oysters  is  a  serious 
matter  to  the  oyster-grower,  and  causes  him  to  lose  large 
quantities  of  his  valuable  property.  It  is  estimated  that 
the  damage  every  year  to  the  oyster  beds  between  Stateii 
Island  and  Cape  Cod  amounts  to  6100,000.  Large  numbers 
of  star-fish  sometimes  appear  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
upon  shores  where  oysters  are  raised.  They  seem  to  be 
washed  in  from  the  deep  sea,  and,  settling  upon  the  oys- 
ters, they  begin  their  work  of  destruction,  and  consume 
many  bushels  in  a  short  time.  These  attacks  occur  chief- 
ly in  the  latter  part  of  summer  or  early  in  the  fall,  and  are 
much  dreaded  by  the  owners  of  oyster  beds. 

An  account  is  given  of  an  oysterman  011  the  Massachu- 
setts coast  who,  after  a  few  rainy  days,  discovered  that  the 
star-fish  had  come  during  the  storm,  and  were  having  a 
feast  upon  his  oysters.  With  an  eel-spear  he  succeeded  in 
catching  from  the  shallow  water  2500  star-fish  during  the 


390 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


next  two  days.  Still,  notwithstanding  his  efforts  to  save 
his  oysters,  this  unfortunate  fisherman  lost  300  bushels 
within  one  week. 

The  oysterman  has  learned  the  value  of  these  destruc- 
tive pests  for  manure,  and  those  dredged  from  oyster  beds 
are  now  saved  for  fei-tilizing  purposes.  We  might  also 
attribute  to  the  star-fish  a  certain  usefulness  as  scavengers 
of  the  ocean,  since  they  eat  all  sorts  of  animal  substances, 
dead  as  well  as  living,  and  do  their  full  share  toward  keep- 
ing the  waters  pure. 

Some  kinds  of  star-fish  have  long  feathery  arms,  and 
are  much  more  beautiful  than  our  common  ones  which 
we  have  been  studying. 


A  DEBT  OF  YEARS. 

BY    KATHARINE    R.  McDOWELL. 

CHAPTER  I. 

"  "\T7ELL,  old   fellow,  I   shouldn't  object  to  being  in 

VV  your  boots,"  was  the  way  Will  Mortimer  an- 
nounced himself  as  he  entered  the  room  where  his  chum 
Paul  Chaiming  was  studying.  "You're  in  luck." 

'"If  I'm  no  more  in  luck  than  I  am  in  boots,"  returned 
Paul,  witli  a  laugh,  as  he  glanced  at  his  slippers,  "  I  don't 
believe  the  news  will  turn  my  head.  A  fortune  left  me, 
of  course  ?" 

"Not  exactly,  but  possibly  the  beginning  of  one.  One 
of  the  Senior  societies  has  offered  a  prize  of  a  hundred 
dollars  for  the  best  design  for  their  invitations." 

"  I  don't  know  how  I'm  particularly  interested  in  that," 
said  Paul. 

"  You  certainly  are." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you're  going  to  try  for  it,  and  going  to  win 
it,"  said  Mortimer,  coolly. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,"  said  Paul. 

"I'm  not,"  returned  the  other.  "Didn't  you  design 
the  pi'ogramme  for  the  theatricals  last  winter  2  'Twas 
said  you  did." 

"I  had  something  to  do  with  it,"  admitted  Paul,  "but 
Captain  Eckels  worked  up  the  thing.  It  would  never 
have  appeared  otherwise." 

"  Well,  what's  to  prevent  your  designing  now,  and  his 
contributing  the  fine  work?"  suggested  Will. 

"  His  being  at  present  in  the  Bahamas  makes  it  a  little 
awkward,"  laughed  Paul. 

"Come  to  think,  I  believe  it's  open  only  to  the  college 
fellows,"  corrected  Mortimer;  "but  even  so,  if  the  design 
is  good,  the  engraver,  I  should  think,  could  do  the  fine 
work.  You'll  try  anyway,  Channing  ?  Get  your  name 
up,  you  know." 

"  Which  society  is  it?"  questioned  Paul. 

"Something  sensible  from  you  at  last!"  exclaimed  Mor- 
timer, as  he  answered  him,  and  went  on  to  urge,  "  You've 
six  weeks  before  you,  and  even  if  you  shouldn't  come  in 
first,  you  might  second  or  third,  and  like  enough  your  de- 
sign would  be  exhibited,  and  in  that  way  you'd  get  your 
name  up." 

"This  getting  one's  name  up  will  be  your  hobby  yet, 
Mortimer," laughed  Paul. 

"I  left  some  of  the  fellows  copying  the  notice, "  said 
Will,  "to  slip  under  Doane's  door,  with  a  note  bidding 
him  go  to  work,  as  we  wanted  the  honor  in  the  Freshman 
Class;  and  when  some  one  suggested  your  name,  they 
said.  '  All  the  better;  we'll  spur  him  on  too.'  " 

"No  harm  in  trying,"  thought  Paul,  as  he  read  the 
notice  that  evening,  "though  I'm  about  sure  Hortoii  or 
Weaver  will  get  it;  still,  as  Will  says,  there  is  the  one 
chance.  '  Decision  to  be  made  May  15.'  Why,  mother's 
birthday!  If  it  isn't!  Imagine  sending  her  a  cheek  for 
a  hundred  dollars!  Think  of  Ethel — she'd  go  wild.  But, 
}>sh;i\v!  here  I  am  building  castles  equal  to  the  little  sister 


herself.  But  I'm  resolved  to  try  for  it,"  he  repeated, 
"and  to  go  to  work  to-morrow." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word,  so  far  as  going  to  the  so- 
ciety rooms  to  look  over  invitations  of  past  years  and  get 
a  general  idea  of  what  was  required  was  concerned ;  but  it 
did  not  advance  his  work  to  any  great  degree,  for  no  soon- 
er did  he  begin  to  outline  a  design  than  those  he  had  ex- 
amined rose  before  him,  until  he  almost  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  everything  had  been  used. 

It  was  not  until  a  fortnight  after  that  he  exclaimed 
suddenly,  "Something  that  will  do  at  last!"  and  got  out 
his  crayons.  "Now  I  wonder  if  I'll  go  to  the  rooms  to- 
morrow and  find  that  I've  seen  this?"  as  he  gave  a  few 
delicate  strokes,  and  then  held  off  the  paper.  "Not  a 
bad  idea,"  he  added,  as  he  went  on.  "  Why  didn't  I  think 
of  it  before?" 

That  beginning  led  to  his  setting  aside  a  daily  half-hour 
or  more,  and  as  the  work  grew  under  his  hand  his  inter- 
est so  deepened  that  it  was  not  even  lessened  when  he 
heard  that  the  prize  was  being  competed  for  by  students 
from  every  class. 

"Now  if  I  could  only  think  of  a  novel  way  to  intro- 
duce the  society  motto,"  mused  Paul,  one  morning,  as  he 
took  down  the  sketch  from  the  topmost  shelf  of  his  closet 
and  looked  thoughtfully  at  it.  "I'm  determined  not  to 
have  a  scroll,  nor  anything  that  has  been  used." 

An  idea  struck  him  not  an  hour  afterward,  and  as  soon 
as  the  recitation  was  finished  he  hurried  to  his  room  with 
the  intention  of  making  a  few  strokes,  for  fear  the  after- 
noon might  find  the  suggestion  less  clear  in  his  mind. 

He  clambered  up  the  shelves  and  reached  for  the  sketch. 

It  teas  gone! 

"  Why,  I  couldn't  have  put  it  anywhere  else,  could  I  ?" 
Paul  exclaimed,  calling  to  mind  that  he  had  once  or  twice 
thrust  it  in  the  table  drawer  when  some  of  the  boys  had 
entered  rather  hastily. 

"No,"  as  he  pulled  the  drawer  out,  "I  remember  per- 
fectly putting  it  up  there.  Let  me  look  again." 

He  did,  searching  through  the  papers,  until  there  was 
no  doubt  left  in  his  mind  that  the  sketch  was  gone. 

Paul  stood  amazed. 

"Stolen!"  he  cried,  his  face  pale  with  anger.  "But  it 
was  here  ail  hour  ago,"  he  went  on,  excitedly,  "  so  I  may 
get  track  of  it — if  it  isn't  destroyed."  The  mere  thought 
seemed  to  unman  him. 

He  sank  into  a  chair,  and  tried  to  think  the  matter  over 
calmly. 

"No  one  has  ever  seen  me  put  the  sketch  there,  except 
Will.  Could  he,  I  wonder,"  and  a  light  broke  over  his 
face — "could  he  have  taken  a  look  at  it  before  he  went 
home,  thinking  that  perhaps  the  telegram  he  got  summon- 
ed him  there  for  really  more  than  a  day,  and  that  he 
might  not  have  another  chance  ?  I  believe  he  has,"  he 
concluded,  "and  that  in  some  of  his  absent-mindedness  he 
has  locked  it  up.  or  even  put  it  in  his  satchel.  That's 
more  like  him  yet!  I'll  probably  have  a  note  to-night 
explaining  it  all.  How  little  the  old  fellow  dreamed 
what  would  come  of  it !  Here  I've  missed  nearly  a  whole 
recitation !" 

CHAPTER  II. 

"BUT  I  wish  I  knew  where  Mortimer  had  put  that  de- 
sign," Paul  said  to  himself,  later  in  the  day,  as  he  pulled 
out  the  drawers  of  a  desk  absently.  "This  is  my  regular 
time  for  working,  and  I  miss  it;  besides,  that  motto  is  just 
going  to  work  in  beautifully." 

He  looked  about  the  room  for  some  time  in  an  aimless 
sort  of  way;  then,  scarce  knowing  what  he  did,  mounted 
a  chair  which  brought  his  head  on  a  level  with  the  top 
shelf  of  the  closet. 

"  Well !"  he  exclaimed,  a  moment  later,  in  a  tone  where 
surprise,  pleasure,  and  inquiry  were  blended,  as  he  waved 
the  lost  design  in  the  air,  "  Will  is  back!" 


ArT.II,  24,  1 


HAUI'KR'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


391 


He  looked  about  the  room  for  other  signs  of  Mortimer's 
arrival,  while  a  cloud  gathered  011  his  face  as  he  noticed 
thciv  were  none,  and  that  the  room  was  exactly  as  he  had 
left  it  a  few  hours  before. 

"Except" — and  he  spoke  aloud  in  his  earnestness—  "  this 
design  was  not  here.  Of  that  I  am  positive.  Now  what's 
I  lie  meaning  of  this?  Halloo!"  another  exclamation  as 
lie  was  closing  the  closet  door,  "what's  this  }" 

He  turned  something  over  and  over  in  his  lingers  while 
a  strange  expression  flitted  across  his  face. 

"  If  here  isn't  a  clew  !" 

He  examined  it  closely.  A  horn  button  indistinctly 
plaided,  such  as  were  fashionable  at  the  time. 

"And  not  Will's,  either,"  Paul  declared  a  moment  aft- 
er, "or  I  greatly  mistake.  So  it  seems  I've  two  fellows 
to  look  up,"  and  he  smiled  grimly.  "I  only  hope  I'll 
light  on  Mortimer  first.  He's  just  fond  enough  of  detect- 
ive stories  to  enjoy  all  this. 

"The  plot  is  decidedly  thickening."  he  added,  as  he 
went  toward  the  college  buildings,  wondering  what  course 
to  take  in  the  even',  of  further  developments.  There  uas 
one  nearer  at  hand  than  he  imagined. 

A  s(|nad  of  Eiijhty-fours  were  coming  toward  him,  to 
whom  he  called, 

"  Any  one  seen  Mort  ?" 

"No,"  was  the  answer  as  lie  joined  them. 

"  Gone  home,  hasn't  he  ?"  ventured  some  one  casually. 

But  Paul  did  not  hear.  He  had  started  back,  stifling 
the  cry  that  rose  to  his  lips  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  Philip 
Doane  in  a  passing  squad. 

The  buttons  Philip  wore  corresponded  to  the  one  Paul 
had  found,  and  there  was  one  missing  from  his  coat! 

An  hour  later  Paul  scaled  a  note  to  Philip  Doane  which 
read  : 

"I  would  return  the  button  from  your  coat  did  I  not 
conclude  that  you  left  it  in  exchange  for  the  use  of  my  de- 
sign. Bear  in  mind  that  I  do  not  accept  it  as  such,  bill 
retain  it  as  evidence  should  any  question  arise  regarding 
our  claims  to  the  Senior  pri/.e." 

"There,"  said  he,  reading  it  over,  "I  call  that  the  fair 
thing.  I  show  him  I  don't  mean  to  expose  him  unless  he 
defrauds  me.  I  guess  that  '11  settle  him.  I'll  get  it  olt' 
before  Will  comes.  I've  thought  better  of  telling  him 
anything  about  it." 

As  he  turned  to  ring  a  bell  summoning  Dan,  the  gener- 
al errand-runner  of  the  floor,  he  caught  sight  of  a  letter 
that  had  been  slipped  under  his  door. 

"From  mother,"  he  exclaimed,  tearing  it  open.  Find- 
ing the  letter  a  long  one,  he  pulled  down  the  shades,  lit 
the  gas,  and  threw  himself  in  an  easy -chair  as  if  the  more 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  it,  forgetful  for  the  moment  of  what 
the  last  few  hours  had  revealed. 

He  read  the  iirst  page  with  evident  enjoyment,  and 
laughed  aloud  over  something  that  Ethel  had  said.  But 
as  he  went  on  his  brow  clouded.  Before  he  had  finished 
the  second  sheet,  he  tossed  them  on  the  table  impatiently. 

"What  was  it?"  he  asked,  half  aloud.  "Do  all  in  my 
power  for  Philip  Doane  ?  No;  that  wasn't  it." 

He  sat  down  again  and  took  the  letter,  his  eye  finding 
these  words: 

"I  came  across  an  old  school  friend  the  week  that 
Ethel  and  I  were  away.  Can  you  guess  ?  None  other 
than  the  dear  one  I  have  so  often  talked  of  and  wondered 
over — Margaret  Grenville.  I  will  tell  you  some  time  how 
strangely  our  meeting  came  about.  She  is  now  Mrs. 
Clayton  Doane,  and  has  a  son  in  your  class — Philip.  Do 
you  know  him  ?  His  mother's  has  been  a  sad  life,  but  I 
pray  with  her  that  she  may  find  in  her  son  the  comfort 
she  hopes.  She  is  anxious  about  Philip.  He  has  been 
thrown  in  the  past  with  those  whose  influence  has  been 
bad,  and  she  fears  his  associates  at  college  are  not  the 
ones  she  would  choose.  If  you  do  not  know  him,  seek 
him  out,  and  do  him  all  the  good  you  can. 


"Remember  what  Margaret  Grenville  did  for  me. 
How  I  owe  every  bright  spot  in  my  childhood  through 
God  to  her.  Help  him  if  in  your  power  to  be  worthy 
I  such  a  mother  that  he  may  give  her  the  pleasure  that 
seems  reserved  for  him  only  to  give.  I  need  not  sui:ge>t 
wa\s  to  yon,  my  deal-  boy,  who  probably  know  far  better 
than  I  how  to  repay  in  part  that  debt  of  many  years  a-go." 
Paul  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand  while  the  letter  fell 
to  the  floor.  He  sat  there  so  long,  so  quiet,  that  no  one 
would  have  dreamed  of  the  battle  within.  After  a  time 
he  lowered  the  gas,  but  still  sat  there.  When  he  did  leave 
his  seat  lonu'  afterward,  it  was  to  take  the  note  he  had  ad- 
dresscd  to  Philip  Doane  and  hold  it  in  the  flame  of  gas 
until  it  had  burned  entirely  away.  He  then  slipped  his 
design  hastily  in  an  envelope,  and  sat  down  to  think  a 
moment  before  he  wrote: 

"  MY  DEAR  PHILIP, — I  had  intended  trying  for  the  Sen- 
ior's prize,  but  this  evening  decides  me  to  give  it  up.  I 
understand  you  mean  to  compete.  Will  this  attempt  of 
mine  lie  of  any  use  to  you  2  If  so,  accept  it  with  wishes 
for  your  success.  PAUL  CHANNIKG." 

Auain  he  sealed  an  envelope,  and  this  time  rang  the 
bell  so  sharply  that  Dan  was  almost  immediately  at  the 
door. 

"Take  it  at  once.  Philip  Doane.  No  answer,"  he  said, 
quietly;  then,  as  the  door  closed,  he  threw  himself  on  the 
bed  and  half  sobbed,  half  moaned, 

"Oh,  mother,  you  can  never  know,  nor  Ethel,  how 
hard  it  was!  Only  God  who  helped  me  ever  can." 

The  few  remaining  days  before  the  15th  of  May  passed 
quickly.  Philip  Doane  had  acknowledged  Paul's  design 
by  a  card  on  which  he  had  hastily  pencilled,  "With  many 
thanks." 

The  boys  met  the  day  following,  and  Philip  began,  "It 
was  awfully  kind  of  you,  Channing — 

But  Paul  interrupted  him  with,  "  I  only  hope  it  will  be 
of  some  good  to  you,"  in  a  tone  which  said,  "Don't  let's 
talk  about  it." 

"Well,  I  should  rather  think  so,"  returned  Doane. 
"My  only  wonder  is  that  you  didn't  finish  it  up  yourself. 
j  It  strikes  me  as  admirable.  All  done  but  the  motto,  wasn't 
|  it?"  he  ventured,  cunningly. 

"Yes,"  said  Paul,  exhibiting  interest  in  spite  of  himself, 
"  and  I  was  going  to  introduce  that  at  the  left."  He  took 
a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  and  made  a  few  lines  in  his  note- 
book, with  Philip  intent  on  every  stroke. 

"It  seems  to  me  that's  the  place  for  it?"  he  said,  half 
quest  ioningly. 

"  Decidedly, "said  Philip,  and  there  they  left  the  subject. 

"When  does  Mortimer  come  back  ?"  inquired  Philip. 

"  Not  for  a  week  yet,"  returned  the  other.  "  I'm  quite 
lonely,  too."  He  paused  a  moment  before  he  added, 
"  Come  in,  Doane,  and  see  me  when  you  can." 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  evening  of  the  15th  was  come.  Paul  was  lighting 
up  his  room  in  honor  of  the  return  of  Mortimer,  when  he 
heard  a  great  shouting  in  (he  hall. 

"What  noise  is  that  ?"  he  wondered,  going  toward  the 
door  and  opening  it.  "What  are  the  fellows  shouting  2" 
as  he  listened  intently. 

The  sound  came  nearer  and  nearer.  A  moment  later 
and  Will  Mortimer  bounded  into  the  room. 

"They're  coming!"  he  cried,  excitedly,  "right  here: 
but  let  me  congratulate  you  first,"  and  he  made  one  of  his 
well-known  rushes  for  Channing.  "  Don't  look  so  inno- 
cent, old  boy.  It's  yours  as  sure  as  I'm  alive!"  and  he 
wrung  Paul's  hand,  and  called,  in  answer  to  the  voices  in 
the  hall. 

"Mine — what  2"  stammered  Paul,  trembling  with  ex- 
citement  as  he  heard  "  C-h-a-n-ii-i-n-g"  shouted  outside 


392 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


his  door,  followed  by  a  cheer  that  seemed  to  shake  the 
room. 

"The  prize !" screamed  Mortimer  in  his  ear,  as  the  fel- 
lows rushed  in  and  caught  Paul  in  their  arms,  exclaiming 
at  the  top  of  their  voices, 

"Three  cheers  for  Channing!" 

Paul  essayed  to  speak,  hut  his  voice  was  drowned. 

' '  Hear !  hear !"  cried  some  one,  at  which  the  uproar  par- 
tially subsided,  until  Channing's  name,  given  and  respond- 
ed to  somewhere  out-of-doors,  found  a  ready  and  deafen- 
ing echo  in  his  room. 

"A  mistake.  I  did  not  compete,"  Paul  managed  to 
make  heard. 


'"A  HOPE!   WHEN  IT  IS  YOURS  ALREADY: 


"Good  fortune  has  turned  his  head!'1  shouted  Will,  at 
which  the  din  commenced  again,  while  he  and  Philip 
locked  themselves  with  two  others,  and  in  an  instant  Paul 
was  carried  out  of  his  room,  through  the  halls,  in  one 
building  and  out  of  another,  the  air  still  ringing  with 
cheers. 


"Mortimer, "said  Paul,  "I  tell  you  this  is  all  a  mis- 
take." 

"No,  it  is  not,"  said  a  voice  at  the  other  side. 
' '  Doane !     You—  ?"  began  Paul. 

But  he  got  no  answer,  save  from  the  chorus  of  voices. 
It  was  far  into  the  night,  when  quiet  had  succeeded  the 
noisy  enthusiasm  of  the  evening,  that  Philip  Doa_ie  tapped 
at  Channiiig's  door. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Paul,  fancying  it  to  be  Mor- 
timer. Then  as  there  was  no  answer  he  turned  his  head, 
and  on  seeing  Philip  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"The  very  one  I  was  thinking  of."  he  cried,  putting 
out  his  hand.  ' '  Oh,  Doaue,  what  can  I  say  ?" 

"Nothing  yet."  returned 
Philip.  "  Nothing  until  I 
tell  you  something.  Per- 
haps then  you  will  not  care 
to  offer  me  your  hand."' 

"But  I  already  know 
what  you  would  say, 
Doane,"  said  Paul,  ear- 
nestly. 

' '  You  do  not  know  that 
our  keys  are  alike;  that  I 
once  came  into  this  room, 
and  made  use  of  your  de- 
sign." 

"I  do — I  do,"  repeated 
Paul. 

Philip  drew  back.  "And 
knowing  that  you  wrote 
me  what  you  did  ?"  he 
cried.  "Why  did  you  not 
despise  me  as  I  despised 
myself  even  before  your 
note  came  ?  Oh,  Chaii- 
ning,  I  can  never  explain 
what  led  me  011.  I  tried 
to  think  I  wanted  the 
prize  more  to  please  mo- 
ther than  the  boys,  but"- 
his  voice  had  sunk  to  al- 
most a  whisper — "had  I 
won,  I  could  never  have 
told  her,  knowing  that  I 
had  gained  by  theft. 
Channing,  I  thank  God 
you  wrote  me  what  you 
did,  and  that  this  way  was 
given  me  to  show  I  am  not 
all  you  must  have  thought 
me." 

"Philip,"  said  Paul, 
"let  me  tell  you  how  years 
ago  your  mother  was  the 
only  friend  mine  had.  I 
thought  in  this  way  to  pay 
the  debt.  But  now  that 
you  have  made  me  win  the 
prize,"  he  added,  with  a 
faint  smile,  "the  debt  is 
heavier  still.  And  your 
mother?"  he  questioned, 
in  a  low  tone.  "I  thought 
it  would  make  her  happy." 
' '  For  mother  to  know, " 
said  Philip,  forcing  back 

the  tears,  "that  I  have  broken  away  from  the  others ;  that 
I  resolve  to  give  up  the  past,  to  begin  anew,  will  be  more 
to  her  than  any  college  triumph ;  and  for  her  to  know  too 
that  I  have  a  hope  of  gaining  your  friendship—" 

"A  hope!  When  it  is  yours  already?"  said  Paul,  in  a 
voice  he  tried  to  control  as  their  hands  met. 


AI'KIL  '24,  18S:j. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


393 


THE   ORPHAN   GIRL.— BY  S.  S.  CONANT. 


O  FATHER  of  all  forsaken,  take  pity  on  me,  I  pray; 
I  look  to  Thy  loving-kindness,  alone  in  the  world  to-day. 
Bereft  of  father  and  mother,  who  have  passed  to  the  better  laud : 
()  list  to  my  supplication,  and  lead  me  by  Thy  hand! 

Ah  me.  when  I  think  it  over,  the  happy  life  we  led 
Until  that  sorrowful  morning  they  told  us  he  was  dead, 
My  strong,  brave-hearted  brother,  who  in  the  war  was  slain, 
And   our  gray-haired  father  and   mother  were   ne'er   the  same 
again. 

Morning  and  noon  and  evening  she  sat  by  the  cottage  door, 
AVith  dim  eyes  weeping  and  longing  for  him  who  would  come 

no  more, 

Until  in  the  dreary  autumn  she  could  no  longer  wait. 
And  passed  from  us  to  meet  him  within  the  golden  gate. 


All,  father,  loving  and  tender,  he  loved  me  well.  I  know, 

But  his  heart  was   crushed   and   broken;   he  sank  beneath   the 

blow ; 
He  always  seemed  to  be  searching  for  something  he  could  not 

find: 
So  long  they  had  walked  together,  he  could  not  stay  behind. 

Alone  in  the  world,  O  Father!     'Tis  hard  and  cold,  they  say; 
In  trial  and  temptation,  be  Thou  my  help  and  stay! 
Bereft  of  father  and  mother,  to  Thee  alone  I  plead; 

0  Father  of  all  forsaken,  be  with  me  in  my  need! 

My  father,  mother,  and  brother,  they  rest  with  Thee  above; 
And  I,  Thine  earthly  orphan,  I  rest  me  in  Thy  love; 

1  go  as  Thou  wilt  lead  me,  upon  Thy  will  I  wait 
Until  Thou  bid'st  me  join  them  within  the  golden  gate. 


391 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HOW  KATY  CAUGHT  HIM. 

BY  ADA  CAKLETON  STODDARD. 

U'RE  sure  you  won't  be  afraid,  Katy?" 
"Oh  no,  father!" 

"But  Tilly  is  so  deaf,"  added  Mr.  Dillingham.  pausing 
with  his  foot  on  the  carriage  step.  "Sha'n't  I  stop  and 
ask  Aunt  Priscilla  to  let  one  of  the  girls  come  up?" 

"  No  indeed,  father;  I  won't  be  a  bit  frightened." 

"Well,  there's  nothing  to  hurt  you,  and  I  shall  be  back 
•with  your  mother  some  time  to-night  if  it's  a  possible 
thing.  Good-by,  daughter." 

Mr.  Dilliugham  seated  himself  in  the  vehicle,  touched 
the  old  gray  lightly,  and  drove  away.  Katy  stood  in  the 
door  and  watched  her  father  off.  She  was  just  thirteen 
years  of  age,  and  she  didn't  feel  a  bit  afraid,  and  when  the 
carriage  was  out  of  sight  she  bounded  off  the  door-step 
and  across  the  road  to  the  big  barn,  whence  she  presently 
returned  with  her  apron  full  of  eggs., 

"Tilly, "she  screamed,  going  into  the  kitchen  —  "oh, 
Tilly,  let  me  make  a  sponge-cake,  all  myself,  for  dinner 
to-morrow.  I've  found  some  eggs,  and  I  want — to  make 
— a  sponge-cake." 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Tilly,  quite  with  the  air  of  one  who 
can  hear  as  well  as  another  one,  but  who  likes  to  play 
sometimes  at  being  deaf,  "make  half  a  dozen  sponge- 
cakes if  you  want  to,  dearie." 

So  Katy  beat  the  eggs,  whites  and  yolks  separately,  for 
ten  minutes;  she  put  in  the  sugar  and  beat  five  minutes, 
and  the  llourand  beat  three  minutes  more,  exactly  by  rule, 
and  when  all  this  was  done,  and  the  cake  browned  to  de- 
licious perfection  in  the  big  oven,  the  short  November  aft- 
ernoon was  already  half-way  through. 

"I'm  going  to  put  my  cake  in  the  preserve  closet,  Tilly." 

Tilly  didn't  offer  any  objection,  and  Katy  carried  her 
sponge-cake  through  the  pantry  into  the  little  dark  closet 
beyond.  There  were  rows  upon  rows  of  preserve  jars,  and 
above  them  on  the  upper  shelf  Katy  caught  a  white  gleam 
from  the  silver — the  ewer  and  sugar  bowl  and  cake  basket 
and  tea-pot,  besides  a  quantity  of  spoons  that  had  belonged 
to  her  great-grandmother.  They  were  very  heavy  and  all 
of  pure  silver;  and  suddenly,  as  Katy  stood  gazing  up  at 
them,  she  remembered,  witli  a  little  shiver  of  dread,  the 
face  of  a  tramp  who  had  looked  in  at  the  door  the  day  be- 
fore while  Tilly  was  cleaning  the  silver  at  the  table.  He 
asked  for  a  drink  of  water,  and  when  he  had  got  it  he 
went  away;  but  it  seemed  to  Katy  at  this  minute  that  he 
looked  at  the  silver  a  great  deal  longer  and  sharper  than 
was  at  all  necessary.  What  if  he  should  come  back  ?  He 
wasn't  a  vicious-looking  tramp ;  indeed,  Tilly  had  thought 
and  said  what  a  pity  it  was  that  he  should  be  a  tramp  at 
all — such  a  bright  face  he  had  and  such  a  pretty  way  of 
speaking,  but — 

"You  can't  tell  much  by  looks,"  said  Katy,  wisely,  to 
herself.  "I  believe  mother  would  almost  rather  lose  the 
farm  than  that  silver.  Anyway  I'll  put  on  the  padlock 
before  I  go  to  bed.  I  suppose  it's  foolish,  though." 

Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  she  forgot  all  about  it.  She 
sat  at  the  window  for  a  long  time,  busy  with  her  knitting 
and  with  thinking  of  how  glad  she  would  be  to  see  her 
mother  again.  Two  weeks  is  so  long  a  time;  and  Mrs. 
Dillingham  had  been  a  day  more  than  that  with  a  sick  sis- 
ter in  Wakefield,  almost  twenty  miles  from  home.  The 
clouds  had  shut  down  heavy  and  gray,  and  it  would  be 
dark  early. 

But  by  the  time  Katy  was  ready  for  bed  she  had  forgot- 
ten all  about  the  padlock,  though  she  was  really  a  little 
nervous  and  frightened,  and  wished  more  than  once  that 
Tilly's  cot  bed  in  the  little  room  over  the  kitchen  would 
hold  her  with  Tilly.  But  she  felt  better  when  she  had 
gone  upstairs  into  her  own  cozy  chamber,  and  had  fasten- 
ed the  door;  and  pretty  soon  after  saying  her  prayer  she 
crept  into  bed  and  fell  fast  asleep. 


When  she  awoke  the  clouds  had  cleared  away  and  the 
moon  was  shining  full  in  at  her  window.  She  awoke  sud- 
denly, with  thoughts  of  the  silver  in  her  mind,  and  pre- 
sently she  heard  the  chimes  of  the  old  clock  ring  through 
the  house  like  a  bell — twelve. 

"I  declare,"  said  she  to  herself  then,  sitting  upright  in 
bed,  "  I  didn't  think  to  lock  that  closet  door.  But  it's  safe 
enough — mother  never  thinks  of  locking  it." 

She  lay  down  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  it  wasn't 
a  bit  of  use,  though  she  counted  more  than  two  hundred 
sheep  jumping  over  a  gate.  She  couldn't  help  thinking 
of  how  badly  her  mother  would  feel  should  that  silver  by 
any  chance  be  stolen.  It  seemed  to  her  that  there  were 
strange  noises  all  about  the  house ;  and  once  a  sound  as  of 
a  window  being  moved  softly  up  set  her  heart  to  thump- 
ing in  a  very  lively  way. 

"What  a  goose  I  am!"  she  said  at  length,  aloud,  and 
jumping  out  of  bed  as  she  spoke.  "It's  nothing  but  a 
rat.  But  I'll  go  down  and  lock  that  door.  I  can't  go  to 
sleep  till  I  do." 

She  slipped  into  a  wrapper,  laughing  at  herself  all  the 
while,  and  went  softly  down-stairs —  so  softly  that  she 
could  scarcely  hear  the  sound  of  her  own  stockinged  feet 
as  she  walked.  She  took  down  the  padlock  and  key, 
which  were  seldom  used,  from  a  nail  in  the  kitchen,  and 
went  bravely  into  the  pantry.  The  moon  shining  in  at 
the  window  lighted  her  way,  but  it  was  surely  not  the 
moonlight  which  shone  in  that  dreadful  preserve  closet, 
streaming  out  at  the  door,  which  stood  wide  open. 

Knty's  heart  stood  still  with  horror  !  Therein  the  clos- 
et, on  the  wide  lower  shelf,  was  a  lighted  lamp,  and  beside 
it  glistened  the  heavy  old-fashioned  cake  dish  that  had 
belonged  to  Katy's  great-grandmother,  and  before  it  stood 
— Katy  was  sure — the  train)). 

She  could  hardly  keep  from  screaming,  and  her  hands 
shook  as  with  the  ague;  but  with  one  quick  dart  she 
slammed  the  closet  door,  put  the  heavy  hasp  in  place,  and 
sprung  the  padlock.  There  was  a  startled  exclamation 
from  her  prisoner  as  she  did  so.  It  was  all  Katy  heard 
before  she  fled  from  the  pantry  to  the  outer  door,  unlock- 
ed it,  and  sped  away  through  the  moonlighted  night  to- 
ward Aunt  Priscilla's,  a  mile  distant. 

"He  can't  hurt  Tilly,"  she  panted,  "and  she  won't 
wake  up,  and  he — can't  get  out.  But  maybe  he'll  burn 
the  house  up.  Oh,  why  can't  father  come!  and  what 
makes  it  so  far  to  Aunt  Prissy's !" 

She  didn't  get  to  Aunt  Priscilla's.  Just  at  that  mo- 
ment came  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels,  and  before  Katy 
had  time  to  do  more  than  recognize  the  old  gray  she 
heard  a  startled  cry  from  her  mother. 

"Why,  Katy!  child  alive,  what  brings  you  here  ?" 

Then  poor  little  Katy,  how  she  trembled  when  her 
father  picked  her  up  and  placed  her  in  the  carriage; 
and  how,  almost  sobbing  with  the  fear  and  excitement 
of  it,  she  told  her  story;  and  how,  by  the  time  they 
reached  home,  she  was  as  nearly  in  hysterics  as  it  is  pos- 
sible for  a  well-ordered  little  girl,  with  110  nerves  to  speak 
of,  to  be. 

"There,  there,  dear!  And  in  your  wrapper,  too!"  said 
her  mother,  anxiously.  "You  might  have  put  on  a 
shawl,  Katy.  You'll  catch  your  death." 

"You  must  have  dreamed  it  all,  daughter,  "said  her  fa- 
ther. But  he  lost  no  time  in  entering  the  house,  and  he 
provided  himself  with  a  huge  pistol,  which  hadn't  been 
discharged  for  a  dozen  years,  before  he  unlocked  the  clos- 
et door  and  began  to  open  it  cautiously.  Then  K,itv 
and  her  mother,  waiting  by  the  kitchen  door,  which  iliey 
took  the  precaution  to  hold  wide  open,  heard  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise. 

'Aha!  you'd  better  come  out,  sir,  and  give  yourself  up 
peaceably." 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure."  It  was  a  laughini.' 
voice,  and  it  was  a  laughing,  remarkably  good-looking 


Al'KIL  'J4. 


IIAIIPEP.'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


395 


face  that  presently  showed  itself  over  Mr.  Dillingham's 
shoulder  in  the  pantry  doorway. 

Katv's  mother  took  an  eager  step  forward.  "I  be- 
lieve— it  in  Frank!"  she  cried.  "Why,  Frank,  Frank 
Sawyer,  where  did  you  fall  from  '." 

Tin'  minute  Katy  saw  her  mother  half  crying  on  the 
young  man's  shoulder,  with  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
she  knew  that  this  was  the  uncle  sin-  never  remembered 
to  have  seen,  who  had  been  abroad  for  years.  Poor  lit- 
tle Katy  once  more!  How  astonished  and  ashamed  she 
was  !  To  think  that  she  had  locked  her  mother's  only 
brother  up  in  the  preserve  close!  for  a  thief!  How  dread- 
ful it  was!  Katy,  with  burning  cheeks,  drew  back  in  the 
shadow  of  the  open  door. 

"  But  how—  I  declare,"  laughed  Mrs.  Dillingham,  "  I 
don't  much  blame  Katy." 

"It  goes  without  telling,"  said  Katv's  uncle,  laugh- 
ing' too.  "I  came  on  the  ten-o'clock  train,  and  made  up 
my  mind  to  walk  over  from  the  station.  When  I  got 
here  I  knocked  at  the  dour,  but  nobody  woke  up.  so  I  just 
made  my  way  in  through  the  window.  I  was  hungrier 
than  a  cannibal,  and  thought  I'd  get  something1  to  eat 
without  waking  anybody  up.  I  was  after  preserves— you 
know  I've  a  sweet  tooth— when  I  saw  grandmother's  sil- 
ver, and  I  was  taking  a  look  at  i:  for  the  sake  of  old  times, 
when  —presto!  I  found  myself  a  prisoner." 

"It  was  Katy,"  said  Mrs.  Dillingham.  laughing  until 
she  cried.  "Katy— why,  what  are  you  hiding  for,  child  .' 
Come  here."  And  Katy  reluctantly  obeyed. 

"Now  how  was  it.  daughter  r"  asked  her  father,  when 
this  new  strange  uncle  had  shaken  bauds  with  Kaly,  and 
kis>ed  her  half  a  do/en  times  on  each  cheek. 

So  Katy  told  the  story  over  again,  this  time  with  a  good 
many  laughing  interruptions. 

"And  you  were  kind  of  a  burglar."  she  said,  slyly 
glancing  up.  "because  you  were  after  the  preserves,  you 
know." 

"I  got  in  through  a  window  too,  Katy.  And  I  ate  a 
whole  spongecake  while  I  was  locked  up." 

"It  was  mine,"  said  Katy.  laughing  again. 

Mr.  Dillingham  sat  down,  and  took  his  daughter  on  his 
knee.  "Well, ".said  he.  "you'd  ha^ve  done  just  the  same 
if  he'd  been  a  genuine  train)),  as  he  ought  to  ha\e  been, 
poking  around  folks'  houses  in  that  fashion.  I'm  proud 
of  you,  Katy-did." 

"So  am  I, "said  Uncle  Frank  Sawyer,  and  he  rolled  up 
his  eyes  in  a  comical  way  at  Katy. 

"  And  so  am  I,"  said  her  mother,  and  she  kissed  Katy. 


er  of  the  striking  alley  receives  one  from  him  who  is  at 
rot,  01-  the  latter  is  put  out  of  the  game,  as  may  be  de- 
cided upon  at  the  beginning. 


ir  i 


HOW  TO  PLAY  MA  RULES. 

BY  JAMES  OTIS. 

IN  an  article  published  a  w?ek  ago,  boys,  you  were  told 
where  our  marbles  come  from  and  how  they  are  man- 
ufactured. Now  for  a  few  new  games  and  some  direc- 
tions how  to  play  them. 

The  game  of  Lagrs  is  a  favorite  with  the  French  boys,  and 
is  played  by  any  number,  who  take  their  places  oppo- 
site a  stone  wall.  Lines  are  drawn  as  in  the  diagram, 
about  lifteen  feet  from  the  wall,  the  lirst  player  having 
the  advantage  given  him  of  standing  at  B,  in  a  direct  line 
from  the  point  to  be  aimed  at,  as  shown  at  A.  The  other 
players  must  shoot  at  an  angle,  from  the  points  C  or  D. 
The  lirst  player  shoots  or  throws  his  marble  at  the  wall  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  it  rebound.  The  nexi  throws  in  a 
.similar  manner,  and  if  it  stops  within  the  span  of  the 
player's  hand  from  the  first  marble,  the  owner  wins  one. 

All  play  in  the  same  manner,  no  one  but  the  first  player 
standing  at  B,  and  if  the  last  player  should  be  within  a 
span  from  all  the  others  he  wins  a  marble  from  each  one. 
After  all  have  played  from  the  stations,  they  continue  to 
throw  from  the  spot  where  their  marbles  fell.  If  the  al- 
ley should  strike  another  one  when  it  rebounds,  the  own- 


Briiliji-  Imiiril  is  played  with  a  little  bridge,  as  shown  in 
the  illustration.  Eight  arches  are  cut  through  it,  each  be- 
ing large  enough  to 
allow  a  marble  to  pass 
through  easily.  The 
arches  are  numbered 
from  1  to  8,  the  low- 
est numbers  always 
being  in  the  middle, 

and  the  highest  outside.  Each  player  deposits  ten  mar- 
bles ID  the  pool,  or  less  it'  agreed  upon,  and  then  pays  one 
marble  to  the  pool  ,or  i  ach  shot. 

If  the  alley  passes  through  eit  her  of  the  arches,  the  play- 
er takes  from  the  pool  as  many  marbles  as  are  indicated 
over  the  to])  of  the  arch  through  which  he  passed.  If 
the  alley  should  not  pass  through  the  arch,  the  player  re- 
ceives nothing,  and  if  he  misses  the  bridge  altogether  he 
1 1.- 1  \  s  anol  her  ma  i-b  I  e  into  the  pool  as  a  fine.  Ill  order  to 
win.  the  alley  must  pass  completely  through  the  arch,  and 
to  test  whether  the  marble  be  through  or  not,  in  the  event,  of 
the  question  being  raised,  pass  a  knife-blade  close  by  the 
outside  of  the  bridge;  if  it  touches  the  marble  in  the  least, 
the  player  is  considered  to  have  missed. 

Pickhnj  I'liuiiH  is  a  game  not  unlike  Bridge-board  in 
principle,  but  can  be  played  without  any  board.  A  line  is 
drawn  on  the  ground,  and 
j  nine  marbles,  or  "plums," 
are  laid  on  it  in  a  row,  o 
the  space  between  them 
being  just  large  enough 
to  allow  two  marbles  to 

stand  side  by  side.  The  players  contribute  a  certain 
number  of  marbles,  so  there  shall  be  sufficient  to  put  the 
plums  on  the  line  and  leave  some  in  the  pool. 

In  front  of  the  row  of  plums,  and  about  five  inches 
from  it,  are  three  holes,  as  shown  in  the  illustration.  The 
players  pay  three  marbles  to  the  pool  for  six  shots,  and 
have  all  they  can  knock  out  of  the  line;  but  if  at  any 
time  while  they  are  taking  the  six  shots  the  player's  alley 
|  falls  into  one  of  the  three  holes,  he  not  only  is  obliged  to 
pay  one  marble  to  the  pool,  but  loses  the  number  of  shots 
which  may  be  remaining  to  him.  The  game  can  be  con- 
tinued as  long  as  there  are  any  marbles  in  the  pool  to 
make  good  the  row  of  plums. 


-a^-iS*    5-.=>5** 

a     r»    r^-rt    -IT     ct 


396 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Spanners  is  a  simple  game,  but  one  which  is  well  cal- 
culated to  teach  correctness  of  aim.  The  first  shoots  his 
marble  to  the  distance  of  a  few  yards,  and  the  other  tries 
to  strike  it  with  his  own.  If  he  can  succeed  in  doing  so, 
he  wins  one  marble.  But  there  is  another  point  in  the 
game,  which  is  that  if  No.  1  can  shoot  his  alley  so  close  to 
No.  2  that  he  can  span  the  distance  between  them  with 
the  thumb  and  fingers  of  one  hand,  he  wins  the  marble 
just  as  if  he  had  hit  it.  Attempting  the  span,  however, 
is  rather  a  dangerous  plan  to  follow,  since  if  it  fails  the 
opponent  is  sure  to  be  able  to  place  his  own  alley  so  as  to 
secure  a  span. 

The  game  of  Conquerors  is  probably  well  known  to 
every  boy,  and  hardly  one  who  reads  this  article  but  that 
can  show  a  favorite  conqueror.  Yet  it  should  not  be 
called  one  of  the  games  of  marbles,  since  there  is  no  skill 
whatever  in  the  playing  of  it,  and  he  who  has  the  hardest 
marble  wins  without  effort  on  his  part.  Conquerors 
may  be  played  with  stones  just  as  well  as  with  marbles. 


and  then  many  a  favorite  alley  will  be  spared  to  serve  its 
master  in  the  more  skillful  work  of  shooting. 

Practice  shooting;  for  if  any  game  is  worth  being  played 
at  all,  it  is  worth  being  played  well,  and  a  boy  should  nev- 
er be  satisfied  until  he  is  certain  that,  either  at  his  sports 
or  his  tasks,  he  is  doing  the  best  lie  can. 

Do  not  be  too  anxious  to  hit  your  opponent's  alley 
when  it  is  at  such  a  distance  from  you  as  to  make  the 
shot  a  chance  one  rather  than  a  certainty.  If  you  are 
not  reasonably  sure  of  the  shot,  it  is  far  better  to  simply 
shoot  your  own  alley  into  such  a  position  as  will  give  you 
a  good  chance  next  time,  or,  if  your  adversary  be  a  good 
player,  get  into  as  secure  a  place  as  possible  without  going 
too  far  away  from  the  objective,  point.  There  is  a  great 
advantage  in  holding1  the  marble  correctly,  so  that  your 
own  alley  has  a  certain  spinning  motion  imparted  to  it  as 
it  leaves  your  hand,  which  causes  it  to  fly  off  at  an  angle 
when  hitting  the  object,  instead  of  falling  "dead,"  and 
remaining  perhaps  inside  the  ring. 


A  GOOD  SUBJECT. 

BY   CHARLES   BAEKAKIl 

T1HOMAS  LITTLEJOHN  POPPENHAMMER  was  one 
of  those  wise  boys  who  believed  in  that  beautiful  sen- 
timent, "  What  boys  have  done,  a  boy  can  do."  T.  Little- 
John  Poppenhammer  had  heard  that  boys  had  learned  to 
take  photographs.  There  were  boys'  cameras  to  be  had 
in  the  stores.  Pop  decided  he  must  have  a  camera.  The 
other  boys  and  girls  considered  it  distressing  to  give  T.  L. 
P.  's  whole  name,  so  they  called  him  Pop,  for  short. 
Some  of  the  more  hardy  boys  called  him  Little  Pop. 
Pop's  father  was  a  wise  man,  and  when  his  son  asked  for 
a  camera  he  gave  him  one. 

It  came  in  a  neat  box,  tripod,  camera,  dry  chemicals, 
scales,  trays,  and  all.  Pop  studied  the  book  of  directions, 
and  worked  hard  for  a  whole  day  picking  apples  to  earn 
enough  money  to  buy  a  dozen  dry  plates.  Intelligent 
readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  will  know  exactly  what  all 
this  means — Pop  meant  to  become  an  amateur  photogra- 
pher. 

When  the  dry  plates  arrived  Pop  lighted  his  red  lan- 
tern and  took  the  box  of  plates  and  the  plate-holders  of 
the  camera  into  his  mother's  linen  closet.  It  made  a  first- 
rate  dark  room,  for  there  was  no  window,  and  the  door 
shut  tight.  Every  boy  in  the  neighborhood  wanted  to  see 
the  plates,  and  Pop  took  four  of  them  into  the  dark  room. 
When  the  white  sheets  of  glass 
were  seen  they  felt  disappointed. 

' '  Wait  till  they're  exposed , " 
said  Pop.      "  Then 
you  will  see  things. 
I  tell  you 
it   will   be 
fun." 


The  mysterious  work  was  finished,  and  Pop  and  the 
boys  went  out  to  see  what  they  would  take  first.  Every 
girl  wanted  to  have  her  portrait  taken,  and  Susie  Glover 
wanted  her  doll  in  the  foreground  with  Rover  by  her  side. 

"  Y'ou  don't  think  I'm  going  to  waste  my  plates  taking 
dollsand  dogs  ?  I'm  lookingfor  better  subjects  than  that. " 

Somebody  suggested  one  thing,  and  some  another. 
There  was  the  old 'well  with  the  moss  growing  on  the 
stones.  There  was  the  "Fairy  Ring,"  up  at  Parker's 
Woods.  There  was  the  "Lovers'  Lane,"  and  "Poverty 
Scrabble,"  and  other  picturesque  places. 

It  was  a  very  hot  day,  and  while  they  were  preparing 
the  camera  they  heard  a  hand-organ  in  the  street.  After 
a  while  the  music  stopped,  and  they  thought  the  man 
must  have  gone  away. 

Just  then  Sarah  Lipstone  came  along  and  said,  "Oh, 
such  a  queer  thing!  The  hand -organ  man  has  fallen 
asleep  with  his  monkey  at  Deacon  Green's  stone  wall." 

"Hurrah !"  said  Pop.      "  Let's  take  him." 

Sain   Terry   took   the  camera  box,  and  Pop  shoulder- 
ed the  camera  on   its' tripod,  and  they  all  crept  softly 
down   the    street   to- 
ward Deacon  Green's. 
As  they  went  along 
they  met  Sadie  Green 
and  Freddy  Stinson, 
and    of    course    they 


^m 

YirYT]  \\       fJ^tff.      ,•'    V\^ 


AI'RIL  24,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


397 


joined  the  procession. 
They  crept  up  as  softly 
as  possible,  and  Pop  set 
up  the  camera,  and  put 
the  black  cloth  over  his 
head.  Every  one  looked 
on  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest, the  boys  ready  to 
laugh,  and  the  girls  cu- 
rious to  see  what  would 
happen. 

"It's  a  good  subject," 
said  Pop,  in  a  mullled 
voice  from  under  the 
cloth.  "  I'll  focus  on 
his  nose." 

"Sti-ady,    now,"    said 

1  'op.  aS    lie    took    the    cup 

oil'  the  ramera.  "  Look 
pleasant.  One,  two. 
three,  four,  live  done!" 

Pop  put  on  the  rap. 
pushed  the  slide  into  tin- 
plate-holder,  and  folded  

up  thetripod.     The mon- 

ke\     never    winked,  and 

the-     organ     man     slept 

peacefully  on.      The  whole  party  stole  carefully  away. 

every  one  just  ready  to  laugh  at    Pop's  rapture. 

When  he  had  arranged  all  the  chemicals  in  his  mo- 
ther's kitchen  that  night,  he  closed  the  doors  and  Mil  ids. 
and  by  the  light  of  the  red  lantern  he  developed  the 
plate.  The  boys  and  girls  who  came  to  see  il  done 
thought  it  was  truly  wonderful  to  see  the  picture  ap- 
pear on  the  white  plate.  [t  was  a  great  success,  and  a 
perfect  portrait  of  the  man  and  the  monkey.  The  ea 
pression  on  the  monkey's  face-  was  trul\  beautiful. 

The  next  morning  there  was  a  tremendous  excite- 
ment in  the  village.  The  constable  was  asking  every 
one  if  he  had  seen  a  hand-organ  man  about. 

"  He  stole  a  white  scarf  with  black  stripes  from  old 
Mrs.  Smith's  clothes  line." 

"Here's  your  man."  said  Pop,  showing  a  fine  blue 
print  from  his  negative. 

"  Sho  !"  said  the  constable.  ''That  is  just  complete. 
It's  a  regular  picture. 
Why,  the  man  has  the 
scarf  round  his  neck. 
\Yill  you  give  me  the 
picture  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said 
Pop.  ' '  I  can  print  anoth- 
er in  five  minutes." 


They  soon  caught  the 
man.  and  Judge  Pettis 
said  the  photograph  was 
good  evidence.  The  fel- 
low begged  hard  to  be  al- 
lowed to  take  his  monkey 
and  organ  to  jail,  and 
the  Judge  said  that  he 
might  do  so,  as  it  would 
serve  to  amuse  the  pris- 
oners. As  for  the  man, 
he  never  knew  to  this 
day  how  it  all  happened. 
Pop  kept  the  negative, 
and  often  told  the  story 
to  his  friends,  presenting 
them  with  blue  prints  of 
his  first  subject. 


I  -• ! 


T1IK    INFANTRY. 


THE    SPECTATORS. 


THE    CAVALRY. 


398 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  HAVE  splendid  news  for  you,  children  !  Open 
your  eyes  wide,  and  clap  your  hands  ! 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  COT,  IN  ST.  MART'S 

FP.EE  HOSPITAL,  is  ENDOWED  ! 
You  need  not  send  any  more  money,  as  the 
treasurer  has  the  full  sum— three  thousand  dol- 
lars—in hand. 

1  think  it  quite  wonderful  that  the  whole 
amount  should  have  been  raised  in  less  than  two 
years.  I  am  sure  you  will  all  be  as  glad  as  I  am. 
All  the  particulars  of  the  conclusion  of  this 
grand  effort  will  be  given  in  the  next  number  of 
YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

Here  is  a  letter  from  a  little  correspondent 
who  sees  Mount  Olympus  from  her  father's  dour : 

SALDMCA,  TiniKKY. 

lamnineyearsold.  I  live  in  Turkey  in  Europe, 
in  the  town  of  Saloniua.  I  have  seen  i  In1  duncins 
dervishes  three  times,  and  they  twirl  around  like 
tops  for  an  hour  at  a  liliu*.  I  have  also  seen  the. 
howling  dervishes  once,  and  they  howl  like  dogs. 
\\v  have  a  Turk  called  acavass.  \yhom  you  would 
call  a  guard,  who  goes  out  walking  with  us.  ami 
sits  at  the  door  nearly  all  the  rest  of  the  time  ; 
his  name  is  Ismail.  The  man  who  buys  for  us  is 
a  Jew.  and  his  name  is  saquito.  which  means 
Isaac,  hut  the  Jews  here  call  him  Isca. 

We  see  the  real  Mount  Olympus  from  our  house, 
and  it  looks  very  beautiful  now,  covered  with 
snow  There  are  a  great,  many  camels  here, 
which  carry  goods  into  the  interior,  where  there 
are  no  railroads.  They  kneel  down  to  be.  I.. ailed. 
and  a  good  many  are  tied  together  with  a  string, 
and  are  led  by  a  donkey  or  a  small  horse. 

I  speak  Greek.  French, and  English.  My  mam- 
ma is  an  American.  I  was  horn  here,  and  so 
were  my  two  little  sisters.  I  enjoy  reading  HAR- 
PKII'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  1  have  two  vol- 
umes of  it.  I  hope  you  will  print  this. 

HARRIET  M.  D. 


BEI.MOVT,  NEVADA. 

I  have  never  written  to  you  before  because  I 
never  knew  anything  about  you  until  the  13th  of 
last  month.  I  was  seven  years  old  that  day.  and 
for  a  birthday  present  my  cousin  Herbert  sub- 
scribed lor  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  It  was  such 
a  surprise!  ami  I  do  like  it.  oh  :  so  much.  It  must 
have  taken  him  a  long  time  to  save  so  much 
money — it  would  me — and  he  will  not  be  eight 
years  old  until  June.  What  can  I  give  him  for 
iiis  birthday  '.'  We  can  not  buy  anything  in  these 
little  Western  towns.  Won't  he  be  clad  to  see 
this  letter  in  the  Box,  for  he  has  taken  YOUNG 
PEOPLK  several  years? 

Now.  dear  Postmistress,  you  will  open  your 
eyes  when  you  see  the  surprise  I  have  sent  you 
by  this  mail;  it  is  a  loaf  of  bread.  I  made  it  all 
myself,  even  to  the  yeast, and  it  is  the  first  I  ever 
made.  I  should  like  to  join  your  cooking  elass. 
This  is  the  way  I  m;ike  my  yeast  and  bread  : 

First,  I  put  on  a  big  apron,  and  wash  my  bands. 

I  peel  six  a l-sized  potatoes, and  put  them  <m 

to  boil.  When  well  done  I  mash  them,  anil  put 
them  hack  in  the  water  they  were  boiled  in  ;  this 
water  must  be  very  hot.  Then  I  sift  enough  flour 
into  the  potatoes  and  water  to  make  it  quite 
thick  I  put  a  table-spoonful  of  hops  in  a  tin 
cup  of  water  (half  a  pint),  and  let  it  steep.  I  then 
strain  the  hop  water  into  the  mash  (flour,  pota- 
toes, and  \\  a  ten,  stir  all  well  together,  and  set  on 
one  side,  to  cool. 

\Vh  >n  cold  add  your  starter ;  that  is.  some  yeast 
Icit  from  the  lasl  making.  If  you  have  none,  buy 
a  yeast-cake,  dissolve  in  warm  water,  and  add 
this;  or  you  may  lie  able  to  buy  some  baker's 
ye. ist.  li-it  here  everybody  has  to  make  her  own 
yeast  and  "read.  Now  your  yeast  is  made,  anil 
it  made  right,  will  be  very  smooth,  white,  and 
creamy;  if  at  all  lumpy,  run  it  through  your 
sieve  into  a  stone  jar,  and  let  it  be  in  a  warm 
room,  when  it  will  rise  very  rapidly,  and  if  your 
iar  in  the  tirst  place  is  more  than  halt  full  it  will 
ovrril  iw  We  make  our  yeast  the  day  before 
we  m  ike  our  bread  We.  do  not  add  salt  to  our 
yeast.  Some  add  a  cupful  of  sugar  to  a  quart  of 
yeasf  this  takes  off  the  bitterness  of  the  hops, 
iiud  makes  the  bread  a  very  little  sweet,  but  we 
do  not  like  it  with  the  sugar  in. 

To  make  bread  1  see  that  my  bread-pan— a  deep 
clean  I  in  used  only  to  make  bread  in— is  all  clean 
and  nice.  I  put  on  my  kitchen  apron,  wash  my 
hands,  clean  my  nails  ;  then  I  sift  my  flour  into 
my  pan  until  it  is  quite  full  (an  eight-quart  pain. 
with  my  baud  make  a  hole  in  the  centre  of  the 
flour  piit  in  four  even  table-spoonfuls  of  salt,  a 
cup  and  a  half  of  my  yeast,  and  about  two  cups 
of  water,  cold  in  summer  and  tepid  in  winter.  I 
then  with  my  hands  work  this  up,  and  gradually 
add  more  water  uutil  I  get  my  flour  all  worked 


in,  and  the  dough  so  stiff  it  will  not  stick  to  my 
hands.  I  cover  it  with  a  clean  towel,  ami  set 
near  the  stove  in  a  warm  hut  not  hot  place  :  if  it 
is  too  hot.  it  will  not  rise  evenly.  Be  careful,  too, 
not.  to  let  it  chill. 

When  it  has  risen  to  the  top  of  your  pan,  and 
is  full  of  little  bubbles,  it  is  ready  to  knead.  Get 
out  your  bread-pans  and  grease  them,  and  put 
your  bread-board  on  the  table,  also  have  ready  a 
pan  of  sifted  flour.  Put  some  of  this  flour  on  your 
board,  and  take  of  the  risen  dough,  or  sponge, 
only  enough  at  a  time  for  a  loaf  of  bread.  You 
will  find  it  (the  sponge)  very  soft  and  sticky. 
Work  up  all  the  flour  the  dough  will  take.  The 
more  you  knead  it  the  finer-grained  your  bread 
is.  and  the  better  the  flour  the  more  it  takes. 
Then  mould  your  loaf  into  shape  smooth  and  nice, 
put  it  into  your  bread-pan,  previously  greased 
wit  ha  lit  tie  lard.  Put.  your  pans  of  mouldedloaves 
near  the  fire  to  rise  again  ;  cover  with  clean  mus- 
lin i  we  keep  our  flour  sacks  for  this  purpose) 
to  keep  off  any  dust  or  ashes  (we  use  wood  here 
to  cook  with).  When  your  loaves  have  risen 
well,  put  in  the  oven  and  hake.  Do  not  have  too 
hot  a  fire.  Thrust  a  straw  in  the  loaves,  ami  if 
the  straw  comes  out  clean,  your  bread  is  done. 

As  our  bread  is  done  we  put  it  between  two 
old  table-cloths  we  keep  for  this  purpose;  one 
we  spread  on  the  table  double,  lay  the  loaves  on 
this,  and  put  the  other  double  over  it;  this  pre- 
vents the  crust  from  hardening.  When  cold  we 
put  it  in  a  tin  covered  boiler,  -which  keeps  it 
moist  and  from  getting  dry  and  stale. 

I  hope  you  will  think  my  bread  nice,  and  my 
letter  not  too  long.  Have  you  a.  cabinet  ?  Mam- 
ma says  she  guesses  you  haven't  any  children  of 
your  very,  very  own.  If  you  had.  yon  would  not 
have  time  to  amuse  other  people's  children. 

Ever  and  ever  so  much  love  from  your  little 
friend  and  admirer,  ESTELLE  S. 

The  small  loaf — white,  firm,  and  sweet— came 
safely,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  was  very  much 
pleased  and  felt  very  proud  when  I  took  it  in  my 
hands.  People  need  never  be  hungry  who  have 
the  chance  of  eating  such  good  bread  as  yours. 
Tell  ma  m  ma  ifslie. saw  me  mend  ing  torn  garments, 
and  sewing  buttons  on  sacques  and  jackets,  and 
signing  school  reports,  ami  helping  certain  y<  mng 
people  over  puzzling  places  in  their  lessons,  she 
would  change  her  opinion.  If  I  hadn't  children 
of  HIT  very  own,  do  you  think  I  would  know  so 
well,  dear,  how  to  talk  to  my  throng  of  little 
folks  far  and  near?  I  have  a  cabinet.  Who  will 
tell  Estelle  what  to  make  for  her  cousin's  birth- 
day? 


Rr.ooMi\«BURG,  OHIO. 

As  you  have  taken  such  kindly  notice  of  our 
odd  little  pet  through  the  Post-office  Box.  we 
thought  it  well  to  write  that  Pretty  r.oy  died  of 
an  earth-worm  on  Easter.  Many  thanks  to  those 
who  told  us  of  their  turtles;  aiid  our  pets  now 
are  Pansy  (our  kittyl,  fourteen  little  chickens, 
and  a  Jersey  cow  and  calf.  Won't  the  dear  Post- 
mistress come  out  and  drink  a  pint  of  warm 
sweet  milk  with  each  of  us? — our  allowance  at 
each  milking.  DORA  and  AMV  E. 

Farewell  to  Pretty  Boy.  Thanks  for  your  kind 
invitation.  Wish  me  rosy  checks  like  your  own 
when  you  drink  your  milk,  and  I  shall  be  satis 
fled.  '  

This  comes  from  one  of  my  boys  : 

CLKAUWATKR,  MINNESOTA. 

I  am  thirteen  years  old.  and  will  be  fourteen 
on  the  Gth  of  June.  I  have  a  twin  brother  and 
two  sisters,  one  older  than  myself,  and  the  oth- 
er younger.  My  father  is  the  postmaster.  I  go 
into  the  Post-office  every  Thursday  night,  and 
wait  for  my  II  AUPKU'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  My  bro- 
ther and  I' bring  in  all  the  wood  and  feed  the 
horse  and  cow 

I  have  no  pet  except  a  dog,  whose  name  is 
Sancho.  When  I  go  hunting  I  take  him  w  ith  me. 
He  goes  into  the  water  and  brings  out  ducks 
when  I  shoot  them.  The  most  tun  I  have  in  the 
summer  is.in  camping  out  near  a  lake  about,  nine 
miles  from  town.  We  usually  stay  there  two 
weeks.  LESTER  F. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  of  age,  ami  attend 
school  regularly,  and  when  I  come  home  from 
school  I  practice  on  the  piano,  and  afterward 
study  my  lessons  for  the  next  day.  I  like  my 
music  very  much.  I  read  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  <;<>!, I,  n 
/>ni/x.;iit:\  'I'll:  Yimiiix  Companion,bnt  of  all  I  like 
YOIM;  PEOPLE  the  best.  I  take  HARPER'S  MAGA- 

7A\K  too. 

I  see  the  boys  and  girls  tell  whether  they  have 
pels  or  not.  I  have  a  few.  The  few  are  my  mo- 
ther and  father,  my  sister  Bella,  and  my  brother 
Will.  We  had  a  bird,  lint  he  died.  I  have  five 
pets,  and  I  think  that  is  enough.  Last  year  I 
had  my  HARPER'S  MONTHLY*  bound,  and  they 
made  two  volumes.  EDDIE  GRAHAM  S. 


One  day  mygrandmotherasked  me  what  I  would 
like  to 'have  for  my  birthday  present,  and  I  told 
her  I  would  like  to  subscribe  for  your  beautiful 
paper,  so  she  gave  me  $1  50.  And  she  also  gave 
me  a  beautiful  gold  watch. 

I  have  a  couple  of  bantams,  and  the  hen  lays 
every  day.  1  take  good  care  of  them,  and  love 
theui  very  much.  My  neighbor  has  a  little  pony, 
and  I  go  out  to  ride  her  ;  she  is  very  wild. 


WILLIE  F. 


MY  LITTLE  SISTER. 
I  have  a  little  sister 
Whate'cr  she  does  I  kiss  her 
Although  this  little  midget 
Always  keeps  me  in  a  fidget 

She  mixes  up  my  play  things 
And  tangles  up  my  kite  strings 
And  though  she  is  so  small 
She  can  always  lose  my  ball 

She's  in  mischief  all  the  day 
She  insists  on  her  own  way 
But  I  kiss  her  what  else  can  I  do 
When  she  says  Erny  I  love  oo 

These  pretty  verses  are  the  work  of  Ernest  B., 
a  Brooklyn  boy  nine  years  old.  He  sends  regards 
to  Jessie  C.  S  ,  of  Montreal,  a  little  friend  of  his 
who  had  a  letter  in  No.  174. 


PORTSMOUTH,  RHODE  ISLAND. 

I  read  the  letters  from  yo.ir  little  girls  and  boys 
every  week,  and  so  I  want  to  write  to  you  my- 
self, and  see  how  my  letter  looks  in  print.  I  am 
a  Rhode  Island  girl,  and  I  live  on  the  island  of 
Rhode  Island,  close,  very  close,  to  the  shore,  on 
Narragansett  Bay,  an  hour's  ride  from  Newport. 
I  have  a  great  deal  of  amusement  on  the  shore 
finding  shells  am!  sea-weeds,  and  little  lobsters 
and  crabs  and  fishes,  and  diggingclams.  ami  bath- 
ing in  the  summer.  I  have  two  brothers  and  t  wo 
sisters,  and  we  put  on  onr  bathing  clothes  in  the 
house  and  run  down  into  the  water. 

I  live  on  a  farm,  and  have  plenty  of  pets— a 
large  water-dog  named  Joe  and  two  small  dogs, 
bcsi  Irs  ducks  and  hens  and  guinea-hens,  and 
calves  and  cows  and  kittens— more  than  we  can 
attend  to— and  a  rabbit  yard  for  my  rabbits.  It 
is  very  pleasant  here,  because  we  have  pears  and 
peaches  and  cherries  and  apples.  We  all  help 
our  mamma,  and  I  wash  dishes,  and  love  to  do 
it.  I  have  wanted  to  write  to  you  a  long  time, 
and  now  I  have  done  it,  so  good-by  from 

DAISY  S. 


LIVERPOOL,  ENr.i.AMi. 

I  am  a  girl  fourteen  years  old.  My  brother, 
who  is  sixteen,  and  is  hi  America,  sends  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  to  Joseph,  my  brother,  aged  twelve.  Ai:iy, 
my  sister,  who  is  ten.  and  myself.  We  all  enjoy 
it  very  much.  I  think  "Nan"  was  by  far  the  best 
tale:  it  was  so  brave  in  her  to  be  silent  when 
her  cousin  was  in  fault.  Then,  next  to  ••  Nan,"  I 
think  the  Post-office  Box  is  interesting. 

I  have  been  to  America,  and  staid  there  eight 
months.  I  visited  Niagara  Falls,  and  thought 
they  were  magnificent  We  i.lames.  I.illie,  Ken- 
jir.  and  myself)  saw  the  Falls  illuminated  by  elec- 
tric light.  My  brother  Beiijie  is  still  in  America, 
keeping  my  aunt  company.  He  is  becoming  quite 
an  American. 

I  have  had  the  scarlet  fever,  but  I  am  well  now. 
I  am  staying  with  an  aunt  at  Seaforth.  We  have 
a  beautiful  pet  at  home  ;  it  is  a  Persian  cat  named 
Fie.  She  has  a  lovely  gray  skin.  MARY  A.  B. 


I  am  learning  to  keep  house,  and  would  like  to 
join  the  club.  I  send  yon  a  splendid  receipt  for 
corn  egir  bread.  It  is  delicious,  and  so  delicate  ! 
I  have  two  canary-birds;  they  were  given  to  me 
by  my  aunt.  I  have  them  hanging  over  the  front 
door.  The  other  day  one  of  the  cages  was  knock- 
ed down,  and  Jnnie  broke  her  leg.  I  fear  she 
will  die.  I  never  have  succeeded  in  raising  any 
birds.  Janie  would  lay  eggs,  and  Ruble  would 
eat  them. 

I  am  going  to  have  a  strawberry  bed  this  sum- 
mer, and  attend  to  it  myself.  My  little  sister  and 
I  are  to  have  a  garden  together.  We  live  on  a 
large  farm.  This  summer  1  am  to  attend  to  the 
chickens  for  grandmother.  I  have  nearly  a  hun- 
dred eggs  ready  to  set.  LIUIUE  S.  B. 

CORN  EGG  BREAD. 

Two  cups  of  buttermilk,  one  cup  of  sweet  milk, 
three  eggs  beaten  separately  lightly,  four  table- 
spoonfuls  of  meal,  and  one  tea-spoonful  of  soda. 


THREE  RIVERS. 

I  am  a  little  boy  twelve  years  of  age.  I  go  to 
the  High  School,  and  I  take  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and 
I  am  going  to  tell  you  how  I  subscribed  for  it. 


CL'I-LEOKA,  TK^I  ^   i  i 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  old.  I  have  just  moved 
to  this  village  to  attend  school.  This  is  my  first 
term,  my  mother  having  tanirht  me  at  onr  home 
in  the  country.  This  school  is  conducted  by  the 
Messrs.  W.,  and  we  think  it  the  finest  school  in 
tie  south.  We  have  about  one  hundred  and  thir- 
ty pupils.  The  Young  Men's  Christian  Associa- 
tion have  services  in  the  school-room  every  Fri- 
day evening  after  school  is  dismissed,  and  prayer- 
meeting  once  every  week. 

I  want  to  tell  you  how  we  study  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE in  our  school.  We  have  a  class  of  forty-four. 
A  lesson  is  selected  by  the  teacher,  ami  when  we 
are  called  to  our  recitation  our  teacher  reads  a 


APRIL  24.  1SS3. 


HAMPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


399 


verse,  which  we  are  required  to  write  correctly  ; 
ttu'ii  we  pass  our  slates  to  the  one  below  n*.  tor 
inspection,  and  if  he  finds  a,  mistake  in  writing, 
spelling,  or  punctuation,  he  tr;ips  us;  then  we 
have  t<>  read  the  lesson,  and  give  t  he  meaning  of 
all  rht-  hard  words.  I  have  hunted  out  the  mean- 
ings of  as  many  as  fifty  words  in  one  lesson.  The 
one  who  is  at  the  head,  :uid  says  a  perfect  lesson, 
gets  a  distinction.  I  like  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very 
much,  as  it  supplies  the  place  of  both  history  and 
geography,  our  next  lesson  will  be  the  last  chap- 
ter of  "  Nan."  WILLIE  D.  L. 

COLORADO  SPRINGS,  COLORADO. 

Tlie  day  had  been  cold  and  blustering,  and  in 
the  night  came  a  wonder  :  behold  :  tin-  moon  was 
tin-  wonder.  It  was  surrounded  with  :i  large 
circle,  and  on  either  side  was  something  that  had 
the  appearance  of  a  rainbow,  and  in  the  middle 
was  a  cross.  This  happened  in  tin1  year  1S81.  ;ind 
a  very  beautiful  sight  it  was  It  was  beraiiT 
particles  of  ice  in  the  air  acted  like  so  many  lit1- 
tl<-  mirrors,  being  reflected  upon  by  the  moon 
WOIIIIALL  W. 


NKW    Vor.K   CITV. 

I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  how  I  em- 
ploy myself.  I  am  fourteen  years  old,  and  h;i  \  e 
gi-ne  through  a  course  of  ICSSMHS.  ]  can  now 
make  my  own  clothes  very  nicely,  and  tit  mamma 
very  well  for  such  a  stout  person.  It  is  not  often 
girls  want  to  make  dresses,  but  I  he  little  girl  1  go 
with  and  I  asked  our  mothers  to  pay.  and  we 
would  learn,  ami  show  tlicrn  wh;it  we  coiild  do, 
ami  \\e  hav  suceeeded  \\  e  have  a  Work-room 

in  my  pl.iy-rooru.  I  have  bren  quite  sick  since  I 
first  wrote  tiii-.  letter,  and  the  doctor  says  I  must 
think  le-s  of  tuv  s\v!ein  uhat  is  what  1  call  it), 
and  walk  more. 

I  read  of  Mamie  L,  II.  and  her  quilt  in  No.  177, 
and  u  ill  tell  her  of  my  crazy  quilt,  as  you  asked. 
I  have  every  eolor  of  silk,  vehei.  ami  plush  of 
evi  r)  description,  and  nearly  evei*y  one  is  a  dif- 
J'ereiiT  shape  Each  one  i-  tautened  on  with  the 

Kensington   stilrli    ot    yellow    (loss.       On    the    large 

pice,  s  1  shall  work  the  head  of  an  animal.  It 
looks  very  s-ra/.y,  but  I  saw  one  finished,  and  it 

looked  harnlsi.nic.  \Vheil  1  liave  it  done  I  would 
be  glad  to  have  Mamie  come  and  see  it,  ami  I 

Would   like  to  see  hers.  L.U'KA   S. 

What  a  clever  girlie  to  have  learned  dressmak- 
ing!  But  mind  tlic  doctor,  and  do  not  sew  too 

steadily,  especially  at  the  machine. 


On  serin tr  a  letter  from  my  1  tt  le  cousin  in  Dres- 
den. <  iermany.  a  short  time  ago,  ]  decided  to  write 
one  myself  for  the  I'ost  office  lio\  My  favorite 
authors  in  Vor\<;  Pi;on.i;  are  .Jimmy  ]!rovvn  and 
Mrs  .John  Lillie.  1  have  lately  tried  several  of 

the  Little  Housekeepers1  receipts,  some  having 

been  a  success,  ami  ot  hers  a  failure.  The  Hutnel- 
ty  Thump  pudding  turned  out  to  be  hea\  > .  but 
the  IhiM's  Cup  Cake  was  very  good  indeed,  and 
by  adding  a  little  cocoa-nut  to  this  receipt  it 
makes  it  delicious  A  dainty  dish  for  tea  is 
mashed  potatoes  formed  into  the  Miape  of  liart- 
lelt  pears,  and  with  a  small  slick  of  cinnamon 
stuck  in  at  the  top  lor  a  stem  they  look  very 
tempting  when  browned  over  a  little  in  the  oven'. 

MATTIE  (,'. 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  old.  and  live  on  one  of 
the  Sea  Islands,  near  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 

As  there  is  no  school  here.  [  go  to  mv  mother.  I 
have  a  setter  dm;  named  Max.  and  often  <n,  shoot- 
ing, and  take  him  with  me.  Our  place  is  called 
Seven  Oaks,  from  a  very  remarkable  old  tin  ,,n 
it.  This  live-oak  tree  is  fifty  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence, with  seven  distinct,  trees  growing  from  it. 
Five  are  still  standing,  one  is  lying  on  the  Around, 
and  the  other  rutted  away  years  ago.  R.  c.  S. 


Puii.ADgLPRiA,  PKNNSYLVANIA. 

My  little  boy  lias  liad  thy  mumps,  and  has 
amused  himself  very  much  bv  cutting  tin  se  de- 
signs while  he  has  been  in  bed,  ami  wishes  me  to 
semi  you  these,  that,  perhaps  some  of  the  other 
little  children  can  pass  a  little  time  in  the  same 
way.  The  paper  can  be  obtained  at  the  Kinder- 
garten stores,  where  it  is  sold  lor  paper-folding. 
lie  fold  sand  then  cuts  the  paper  in  different  ways, 
eaeli  time  making  a  new  surprise  when  opened. 
Of  course  the  paper  nnc-t  be  folded  very  exactly, 
or  the  designs  will  not  lie  true  I,et  me  thank 
you  again  and  attain  for  yonrdciiglitfnl  paper  ;  it 
is  everything  to  be  desired  for  the  little  ones. 
EVKLIN'S  MAMMA. 

The  designs  were  very  pretty  indeed,  and  I  am 
glad  Evelin  can  cut  them  so  nicely.  Another 
friend  suggests  that  children  amuse  themselves 
by  cutting  droll  heads  from  the  illustrated  pa- 
per-;, and  pasting  them  on  other  bodies  with  very 
comical  results. 

HEADING-TON,  XEW  JERSEY. 

As  I  have  never  written  before.  I  will  write 
now.  I  have  begun  a  diary;  I  started  it  ou  the 
1st  of  April  Papa,  says  he  don't  believe  I  will 
keep  it.  but  T  am  sure  I  will.  He  says  if  I  keep  it 
a  year  he  will  get  me  a  nicer  one.  My  papa  is  a 
school-teacher,  and  we  children  have  to  tttudy. 
Sometimes  we  think  it  is  a  little  hard,  but  mo- 


ther says  it  is  a  good  thins:.  Amelia,  we  made 
some  of  your  cream  almonds,  and  they  were  \ ,  i  \ 
nice  ;  they  tasted  like  French  candies.  I  like  the 
story  of  "Raising  the  '  Pearl' "  very  much,  and 
also  think  that  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are  very 
tunny.  I  would  very  much  like  to  hear  some 
more  about  Nan,  and  how  she  is  getting  along 
in  her  new  home.  I  am  eleven  years  old. 

RETTA  F. 

A  .LOAF  OF  BREAD. 
Out  of  a  window  came  a  loaf  of  bread, 
And  hit  a  hoy  on  the  top  of  his  head; 
It  scared  a  horse  that  was  hitched  to  a  gig, 
And  he  with  a.  man  ran  over  a  pig. 

The  hoy  took  the  bread,  and  home  he  posted. 
And  told  his  mother  he  wanted  it  toasted. 
The  boy   he  ate,  and  be  ate.  and  he  ate, 
Until  he  got  up  with  a  stomach-ache. 

EWINO  ASA  L.  (8  years  old). 

FARMINGTON,  NKW  HAUI-SUIKE;. 


BROOKLYN.  NEW  V..KW. 

I  have  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the 
firM  number.  I  liked  the  story  of  "Nan"  so 
much,  I  was  sorry  when  it  was  conclude. 1.  I 
must  tell  you  of  the  dear  little  bird  I  had  for  a 
pet.  I  ca\e  him  every  three  days  a  itrawerful 
of  seed,  and  every  <\  iv  fresh  water.  One  day. 

when  in  the  r n  \\lM-re  his  cage  hung.  I  locked 

up  at  it,  and  saw  him  put  ids  head  far  out  and 
look  about,  but  I  thought  lie  was  -.'rowing  tame. 
That  e\  en  ing  my  papa  saw  t  wo  mice  in  the  same 
room,  and  killed  them,  Next  morning,  on  going 
to  his  cage  to  gj\(?  \\ater  as  usual.  I  found  him 
si  1 1  ing  on  the  bottom  -  >t  bis  cage,  looking  so  weak, 
and  on  looking  into  his  drawer  it  was  empty,  so 
I  hurried  and  gave  him  sonic  soaked  bread  in 
water,  but  too  late;  he  died  in  half  an  hour 
starved  to  death  The  mice  had  eaten  his  -.red 
all  up.  and  pour  litl  le  birdie  was  hungry  \\  lien  he 
put  his  head  through  the  burs  the  dav  befi  i  < 

M     M 


As  I  can  not  possibly  crowd  in  all  the  1-  tti  t 
which  I  want  to  publish  this  week.  I  will  answer 
some  of  them  here  Jo|m  A,  F.  :  I  am  sorry  that 
you  have  been  disappointed  about  your  letters 
Thanks  for  your  puzzles,  —  A.  II.-J. :  what  a  pn  \  to 
shoot  the  dear  lit  i  le  rot  i  ins  ;  Alice  S.  :  •'  Madge" 
is  a  very  pretty  story.  Send  another  some  time. 
I  can  not  make  room  for  thK  -Ethel  II.  And  re  us 
is  making  a  crazy  quilt,  and  will  exchange  silk 
and  plush  scrap-  with  other  girls  she  lives  at 
No.:}'-*,".  i;u.  rtero  street. San  Francisco,  Califor- 
nia—  Frank  II.  :  It  was  too  had  your  goats  were 
poisoned.  \Vho  could  have  been  M,  wicked?  1 
would  like  to  see  your  si|uirre].— Y\  illie  ('.  :  Kiss 
P.esM,.  f,  ,]•  nir  lien  fit  tta  T.  I*. :  My  compliments 
to  Tap.  — Klla  M.  F  :  There  is  m,  charge  fm-  the 
insertion  of  exchanges.  Which  of  your  numer- 
ous pet-,  i-s  the  la  \  orile  ?  The  pllg,  I  fancy  <  a  r 
rie  i;  F.  :  Thanks  for  your  letter.  I  am  glad  you 
want  to  learn  housekeeping. — (ieorge  II.  F.  :  So 
you  are  to  be  a  cabin-boy  and  sail  to  the  South 
Seas,  I  hope  you  may  become  a  Captain  in 
time.— Nannie  I)  :  How  unfortunate  you  have 
been  to  have  all  your  p<  t<  run  away  or  die  !— 
Gi  '  i-re  M  1),  :  For  a  boy  only  eight  you  write 
well.  Your  governess  must  take  pains  wit  h  you. 
— (Jracie  J  \  ;  I  remember  your  other  letter. 
Try  a  third  time.  dear.  I  will  think  of  your  sug- 
gestion about ''  Democratic." 


BOYS'  LIRUAUY  COMMITTEE .— I  thought  of  you 
on  the  evening  of  your  reception,  and  had  Belle- 
fonte  been  on  the  line  of  cars  that  runs  through 
Dream-land  you  would  have  seen  me  there.  I 
wish  one  of  the  ci^ht  would  write  and  describe 
>oiir  association  and  its  object. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

(  HARADE. 

My  first  in  glittering  state  is  seen 
Snow  white  upon  a  field  of  green. 
At  evening  lires  within  my  bound 
Dot.  here  and  there  the  quiet  ground. 
AIM)  tales  are  told,  and  to  and  fro 
The  feet  of  busy  people  go. 

My  second  hath  a  thrilling  tongue. 
And  oft  its  praise  have  poets  rung. 
It  sometimes  swings  in  airy  tower, 
And  sometimes  gems  a  tiny  flower; 
And  wheresoever  you  may  dwell 
What  time  it  is  'twill  surely  tell. 

My  whole's  a  name  renowned  in  story. 
And  covered  o'er  with  fame  and  glory. 

MOTUEP,  BUNCH. 


NO.  •:. 

TWO  ENIGMAS. 

I.  My  first  is  in  June,  but  not  in  soon. 
My  second  is  in  truce,  but  not  in  loose. 
My  third  is  hi  pie.  but  not  in  sky 
My  fourth  is  in  lie.  but  not  in  giiy. 
My  tifth  is  in  ton.  but  not  in  son. 
My  sixth  is  iti  mate,  but  not  in  gait. 
My  seventh  is  in  rye.  hut  not  in  fly. 
My  whole  is  something  in  the  sky. 

JOHN  A.  FAIRLFE. 

2.  In  rake,  not  in  hoe 

In  pine,  not  in  oak. 
In  flair,  not  in  bow. 

In  flare,  not  in  smoke. 
In  meat,  not  in  drink. 
In  crimson,  not  in  pink 
My  whole  have  armies  oft  assr-ted, 
Given  to  soldiers  when  enlisted. 

C.  L.  LAINO. 


No.  3. 

A    RIDDLE. 

I  am  firm.  hard,  solid,  yet  lirittlo.  Tf  you  use 
inc.  \\c-ll.  I  am  rveryhody.  If  you  scratch  my 
cVirl*.  lam  nobody.  Allseek  my  company,  though 
they  cuvfcT  to  meet  only  themselves.  COOK. 


No.  4. 

A    ITZZLE. 

One-ninth  of  a  nectarine,  one-fifth  of  a  pench, 
one-fourth  of  a  pear,  one-sixth  of  an  orange,  one- 

^'-\  enrh  of  an  apricot,  one- tenth  of  a  st  raw  berry, 
equals  uhat  fruit?  COOK. 


A  NSW  KltS  TO  PUZZLES  TN  No.  179. 
No.  1.        S   T   A    R  F    O   N    T 

T     \    U    E  <>     II     I    O 

ARTS  NIL  M 

R  E  -S  T  T  O  K  S 

<;   T  R  L 

IDEA 

REAM 
LAMB 


No.  2. 


No.  :;, 


C 
BAA 

c    A    N    I)    Y 

A    I>   A 

Y 


D 
CAN 

D  A   a1   E   3 

N    F  T 

S 


Brick  yard. 


Bad.    Rib.    Yard.     Kirk.    Bay.    Crib. 

No.  1.  O  O   L    I    T   E 

O  V  O   L  O 
LOCK 
I    L  K 
T  O 
E 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
From  Rigoletto. .John  F.  Little.  Charlie  Trumpler, 
(leor-i,-  Trumpler.  Lady  Luna.  E.  FJmslie  P., 
Kmelie  fie  L.  Kennedy.  Ray  F.  Ilutchinson.  Fred 
Mo!  I  man.  Ernest  \V  oik  wit/..  Henry  Chambers, 
Iievsje  Wilson.  Edna  Kip.  Em  ma  Shaffer.  Henry  K. 
IVa-e.  II  I)  II  and  R  C  .  Maude  C  .  Walter  Mor- 
rill.  Three  Stars.  Kitty  Jackson.. lesse  s.  (iodine, 
Alfred  S  Hequembonrg.  Lulu  Pay  son.  Morris  Van 
\Vyck.Jennie  Senior,  (ieorge  Triimbnll.  <;|o\-er 
I'.ireh.  John  T.  Smith.  Rosalie  llaswell.  Arnold 
Thompson.  Archie  Demurest.  IJoland  Ware.  Mag- 
gie I'a\  ne,  <  'lara  De  Pey.  Klsie  L..  Helen  Y  ,  James 
\  M  ..I  F  Ritchie.  Lincoln  Stearns.  Bessie  ll\de, 
i;  s.  Weller  D.  J.  Hickey.Yorke  A  lien.  Jessamine 
\V  K'a  v.  William  Matthews,  S.  Haif.  Ida  and  Em- 
ma Heqiiembourg.  William  Pitt  Anderson,  Em- 
ma Radfurd,  Harry  Stiles,  and  Ed.  Berry. 


ANSWER  TO  THE  SQUARE  PUZZLE  ON 
PAGE  3C8  OF  No.  IWi. 


[far  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


400 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


.:'       hcp 

**l£,>-T-\r^^/  _/* 


PAKLOR  GAMES  AND  FORFEITS. 

THE  ANIMAL   CLUB. 

IN  tli  is  game  two  of  the  party  are  elected  to  fill  the  office  of 
President  Bergh  and  his  Viee-President ;  the  others  each 
choose  some  animal,  bird,  or  insect  which  they  will  represent. 
The  President  then  relates  an  anecdote  slowly.  At  the  occur- 
rence of  any  of  the  words  with  an  initial  letter  the  same  as  that 
of  any  of  the  animals,  the  cry  peculiar  to  it  must  he  imitated  by 
the  person  who  represents  it;  for  instance,  if  there  he  a  dog,  at 
any  word  commencing  with  a  d  the  dog  must  hark.  The  Vice- 
President  must  he  on  the  watch  for  auy  omission.  When  one 
occurs,  the  delinquent  must  pay  a  forfeit. 

FORFEITS. 

The  Statesman. — Ask  the  penitent  what  State  he  would  like  to 
represent  in  Congress.  Wheu  selected,  ho  must  he  made  to  spell 
ils  name  backward  without  a  mistake.  If  he  fails,  lie  knows  not 
the  requirements  of  his  constituents,  ami  must  lose  his  election. 

THE  ECLIPSE. 

You  are  to  take  an  ordinary  tea-tray,  then  mount  a  chair,  and 
holding  the  tray  up  before  your  face,  gradually  withdraw  it  in 
the  manner  of  an  eclipse.  A  pretty  little  girl  can  make  this  a 
very  pretty  picture. 

THE  EXCHANGE. 

You  arc  1o  give  a  five-dollar  bill  in  return  for  your  forfeit. 
This  is  done  by  writing  out  a  note  as  follows: 

"To  one  handkerchief"  (or  pencil,  or  whatever  the  case  may 
be),  "five  dollars,"  which  you  present  to  the  distributor  in  ex- 
chauge  for  your  forfeit. 

Then  you  may  ask  the  penitent  a  conundrum,  which,  if  he  an- 
swers correctly,  of  course  lets  him  oft'. 

"Why  does  a  hen  cross  the  road  in  wet  weather? — Because 
she  wants  to  get  to  the  other  side." 

"What  most  resembles  a  cat? — A  kitten." 

"Ho\v  many  little  girls  would  it  take  to  reach  from  Philadel- 
phia to  New  York  ?  — Seventy-five,  for  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile." 

"If  a  bear  should  go  into  Stewart's,  what  would  he  want? — 
Muslin"  (muzzling). 

"If  the  alphabet  were  invited  out,  what  time  would  U,  V,  W, 
\,  Y,  and  Z  go? — They  would  go  after  tea"  (T). 


AN  APE'S  REVENGE. 

APE!?,  when  their  anger  is  aroused,  are  very  dangerous  crea- 
tures, as  they  will  dare  almost  anything  in  order  to  avenge 
their  wrongs.  Many  of  their  deeds  of  revenge  are  well  known  : 
but  the  following  'anecdote,  which  conies  from  Italy,  is  as 
amusing  as  any  we  have  yet  heard  of. 

II  Rosso,  a  disciple  of  Michael  Angelo,  resided  in  Florence, 
in  a  house  overlooking  a  garden  belonging  to  some  friars.  II 
Rosso  possessed  an  ape  which  was  on  very  friendly  terms  with 
one  of  his  apprentices  called  Battistoui,  who  employed  the 
animal  to  steal  the  friars'  grapes,  letting  it  down  into  the  ad- 
jacent garden  and  drawing  it  up  again  by  a  rope. 

The  grapes  being  missed,  a  watch  was  set,  and  one  day  a 
friar  caught  the  ape  in  the.  very  act.  He  tried  to  inflict  a 
thrashing;  but  the"  ape  got  the  best,  of  it,  and  escaped.  II 
Rosso,  however,  was  sued,  and  his  pet  sentenced  to  wear  a 
weight  on  its  tail.  But  few  days  elapsed  ere  the  culprit  had 
an  opportunity  of  avenging  this  insult. 

While  the  friar  was  performing  mass  at  a  neighboring  church, 
the  ape  climbed  to  the  part  of  the  roof  under  which  the  altar 
stood,  and,  to  quote  Vasari's  words,  "performed  so  lively  a  dance 
with  the  weight  on  his  tail  that  there  was  riot  a  tile  or  vase 
left  unbroken  ;  and  on  the  friar's  return  a  torrent  of  lamenta- 
tions was  heard  that  lasted  for  three  days."  The  revenge 
which  the  ape  took  upon  the  friar  was,  however,  more  easy  to 
hear  than  the  vengeance  of  an  elephant  who  was  disappointed 
in  regard  to  some  expected  sweetmeats. 

A  French  gentleman  living  in  India  had  a  tame  elephant, 
which  was  accustomed  to  go  into  the  dining-room  after  dinner, 
and  beg  from  the  guests.  One  day  the  elephant  came  when 
they  were  at  dessert.  A  gentleman  refused  to  give  it  any- 
thing ;  but  the  elephant  would  not  go  away.  The  gentleman, 
angry  at  its  asking,  gave  it  a  stab  with  his  fork.  The  elephant 
went  into  the  garden, tore  a  branch,  covered  with  black  ants, 
ofl'  a  tree,  and  shook  them  over  the  gentleman's  head.  The 
ants  got  into  his  ears  and  down  his  neck,  and  at  last  he  un- 
dressed and  took  a  bath  to  get  rid  of  his  tormentors. 


SLY    ITSSIKS. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    -WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  l&i. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  May  !,  18&3. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HARPER  ii  BROTHERS. 


$1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


THE  MAY-DAY  FETE  AT 
i;K\'EHLY  HILL. 


BY 


S     CA.RR. 


ISTRESS  MAY  BEV- 
ERLY  requests  yc'  plea- 
sure of  your  companie  at  a 
Male-day  fete,  according  to  yc 
rustomo  of  y''  olden  tyme,  at 
Beverly  Hill,  on  y°  flrste  dale 
of  Male.  188-.'' 

This  was  the  invitation,  writ- 
ten in  old  English  characters 
upon  rough  note  -paper,  and 
sealed  with  wax,  that  Edith 
Dinsmore  gayly  opened  and 
read  aloud  one  mild  morning- 
in  the  middle  of  April. 

'  '  How  charming  !"  she  cried, 
addressing  a  party  of  girl 
friends,  each  of  whom  held  a 
similar  missive. 

"The  only  thing  I  don't  like 
about  it,  "  remarked  Laura  Mar- 
ly, "is  that  little  Brownie  Le 
Bruii  has  an  invitation  too." 

"Has  she  '("  exclaimed  Ed- 
ith. "What  could  have  in- 
duced May  to  ask  her  ?  It 
•would  have  been  much  nicer 
if  she  had  kept  to  our  set." 

"  May  is  too  kind-hearted  to 
slight  any  one,"  put  in  Elsie 
Duncan,  "and  Annette  be- 
longs to  our  class,  and  ought  to 
be  considered  one  of  the  set." 

'  '  I  am  not  accustomed  to  as- 
sociate with  charity  girls,"  said 
Laura,  with  a  scornful  shrug 
of  her  shoulders. 

"Oh,  hush!  she  must  have 
heard  you,"  whispered  Elsie, 
as  a  little  figure  in  a  well-worn 
brown  dress  entered  the  room, 
and  took  a  book  from  a  distant 
table. 

"Listeners  never  hear  any 
good  of  themselves,"  remarked 
Edith.  "  But  here  comes  May 
now." 


4-02 


ITATCPETTS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


"Good-morning- — good-morning-,  May,"  was  heard  on 
all  sides,  and  the  girls  gathered  round  the  new-comer,  ask- 
ing eager  questions  about  the  coming  fete. 

"Grandpa,  you  know,"  laughed  May,  "is  a  real  old 
English  gentleman,  and  delights  in  ancient  customs;  and 
it  was  his  idea  to  celebrate  my  sixteenth  birthday  in  this 
fashion.  And  we  want  you  all  to  dress  in  quaint  old  cos- 
tumes; it  will  make  it  so  much  more  picturesque." 

"We  will.      Oh,  what  fun!"  exclaimed  all  the  girls. 

Annette  Le  Brim  alone  was  silent,  until  May  Beverly, 
breaking  away  from  the  noisy  group,  approached  her,  say- 
ing, "And  you.  Brownie,  will  come  to  my  fete,  of  course  ?" 

The  girl's  dark  eyes  were  misty  with  tears  as  she  said, 
softly,  "  No,  I  think  not;  no  one  will  want  me." 

"Nonsense!  I  want  you,  and  you  will  surely  not  dis- 
appoint me  on  my  birthday."  And  thus  urging.  May  at 
length  won  a  half-unwilling  consent  from  the  plain  little 
French  girl  in  accept  her  invitation. 

Annette  Le  Brun,  or  Brownie,  as  she  was  more  oft- 
en called,  was  the  daughter  of  a  former  French  teach- 
er in  Mrs.  Merwin's  "Select  School  for  Young  Ladies 
and  Children,"  but  now  Madame  Le  Brim's  health  had 
failed,  and,  unable  longer  to  teach,  she  eked  out  a  scan- 
ty livelihood  by  doing  for  large  stores  the  exquisitely 
fine  embroidery  that  had  been  taught  her  years  before  in 
a  French  convent.  Mrs.  Merwin  felt  a  warm  friendship 
for  the  poor  gentlewoman,  and  kindly  kept  Annette  in  the 
school,  that  she  might  at  least  have  a  good  education  as 
her  capital  in  life,  and  for  which  she  partially  paid  by 
teaching-  one  or  two  of  the  primary  classes. 

Brownie  was  bright  and  capable,  but  was  rather  looked 
down  upon  by  members  of  her  class,  only  May  Beverly 
and  Elsie  Duncan  ever  showing  her  anything  like  real 
kindness.  So  the  poor  child's  life  was  a  very  dreary  one, 
and  much  as  she  dreaded  to  accept  it,  this  invitation  to 
the  May-day  fete  was  like  a  glimpse  of  paradise. 

In  direct  contrast  to  little  Annette's  gray-hued  life  was 
that  of  May.  Her  parents  gave  her  every  care,  and  she 
had  the  loveliest  of  homes.  Beverly  Hill  was  a  grand  old 
place  overlooking  the  noble  Hudson,  and  it  was  Mr.  Bev- 
erly's delight  to  form  his  American  home  on  the  model 
of  an  old  ancestral  hall  in  merry  England.  So  there  was 
an  "approach,"  a  large  wood-tire  place  in  the  spacious 
hall,  and  a  picture-gallery  hung  with  many  portraits  of 
Beverlys  of  past  generations,  while  the  conservatories  were 
a  wonder  to  all  the  country  round. 

Unlike  the  usual  1st  of  May,  the  day  of  the  fete  dawned 
bright  and  warm,  and  ten  o'clock  found  a  gay  party  of 
young  people  collected  in  the  Grand  Central  Depot  await- 
ing the  special  car  that  was  to  transport  them  to  Beverly 
Hill.  And  Annette  Le  Brun  was  among  them,  with  an 
unwonted  color  oil  her  sallow  cheeks  and  a  sparkle  in  her 
dark  eyes. 

It  was  but  a  short  run  through  the  peaceful  spring- 
awakened  country,  and  on  the  platform  at  Beverly  Station 
stood  May  herself,  with  her  cousin  Carl,  dressed  like  two 
Arcadia' i  peasants,  to  welcome  her  guests.  Large  open 
carriages  were  in  waiting  to  convey  them  up  the  hill, 
while  at  the  lodge  gate  they  were  met  by  a  gay  proces- 
sion in  quaint  costumes,  which  escorted  them  through  the 
grounds  to  the  house.  Some  of  the  girls,  clad  as  milk- 
maids, bore  upon  their  heads  tin  pans  and  pewter  plaies 
adorned  with  garlands;  others  held  aloft  on  tall  poles 
May  wreaths  formed  of  hoops  twined  with  flowers,  while 
the  boys  carried  cows'  horns  and  hollow  canes,  and  waved 
branches  laden  with  buds  and  blossoms.  As  they  march- 
ed they  sang  an  old  May-day  song: 

"A  braneh  df  May  we  have  brought  you, 

Anil  at  your  door  it  stands; 
It  is   !uit  ;L  sprout, 
But    il's    well    iiilildc'l    out 

By  the  ivorlt  of  our  Lord's  hands. 


"The  hedges  anil  trees  they  aie  so  green, 

As  green   ,-is  any  leek  ; 
Our  heavenly  Father  watered   them 
With  His  heavenly  dew  so  sweet. 

"The  sun   shines  bright  and  sheds  its  light 

Upon  this  festal  iliiy ; 
So  God  bless  you  all,  both  great  and  small, 
And  tend  you  a  joyful  May  !" 

Arrived  at  the  house,  May  led  the  girls  to  an  upper 
chamber  to  lay  off  their  wraps,  and  many  were  the  "  Ohs !" 
and  "Ahs!"  over  the  pretty  fanciful  gowns  now  revealed, 
and  in  which  these  nineteenth-century  maidens  looked 
like  village  rustics  of  "yc  olden  time."  But  all  were 
amazed  when  Brownie  Le  Brun,  threw  aside  her  gray 
cloak,  and  stepped  forth  as  the  daintiest  of  dainty  shep- 
herdesses. The  material  of  her  dress  was  an  heirloom, 
brought  long  ago  from  France,  and  her  mother  had  skill- 
fully fashioned  it  into  an  exact  copy  of  a  coslume  worn  by 
Marie  Antoinette  when  she  descended  from  her  throne  to 
masquerade  at  Little  Trianon.  It  well  suited  Brownie's 
style,  and  she  looked  almost  pretty.  May  and  Elsie  hugged 
her  in  delight,  and  then  the  merry  party  went  down  the 
staircase  to  the.  grand  old  hall  now  decked  with  greens, 
and  where  a  wood  fire  blazed  cheerfully  upon  the  hearth. 

A  collation  awaited  them  in  the  dining-room,  which 
Mr.  Beverly  assured  them  was  much  like  a  May -day 
feast  once  given  by  an  English  ambassador  to  a  Queen  of 
Sweden.  The  centre  piece  consisted  of  three  large  cheeses 
adorned  with  flowers  and  boughs  of  trees,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  ail  inh'nite  variety  of  English  sauces,  creams, 
puddings,  custards,  and  tarts,  while  there  was  no  lack  of 
substantial  in  the  way  of  broiled  chickens,  tongue,  and 
cold  meats.  It  was  an  odd  meal,  but  all  enjoyed  it  from 
the  novelty. 

Unfortunately  in  our  climate  wild  flowers  arc  very 
chary  about  appearing  by  the  first  of  May,  only  a  few 
hardy  dandelions  venturing  to  creep  out  so  soon  from  their 
snug  winter-quarters;  but  Mr.  Beverly  had  prepared  for 
this,  and  the  conservatory  supplied  the  flowers  that  were 
to  be  woven  into  garlands,  the  prettiest  of  which,  was  to 
serve  as  a  crown  for  the  May-Queen. 

But  before  the  task  of  preparing  the  wreath  was  begun, 
and  while  the  girls  were  walking  about  the  gardens,  Laura 
Marly,  Edith  Dinsmore,  and  two  or  three  of  the  others 
suddenly  found  themselves  in  a,  lonely  dell  beneath  some 
drooping-  willow-trees,  whose  bending  branches  swept  a 
little  stream  that  ran  foaming  and  whirling  over  the 
stones,  forming  a  series  of  seething  rapids  around  a  group 
of  moss-covered  rocks,  and  finally  falling  in  a  silvery  cas- 
cade down  into  a  deep  ravine  below. 

"What  a  charming  fairy-like  nook!"  cried  Edith. 

"And  look,"  said  Laura,  "at  that  graceful  little  maid- 
en-hair fern  growing  out  of  the  highest  rock.  It  must  be 
the  first  of  the  season,  and  I  shall  try  and  get  it  to  twine 
in  my  wreath." 

"Oh,  Laura,  don't!"  cried  the  girls.  "The  current  is 
very  swift  here,  and  if  you  should  slip  in  you  would  be 
carried  over  the  falls  and  surely  killed." 

"I  don't  intend  to  slip," said  Laura,  stubbornly,  "but  I 
do  mean  to  have  that  fern, "and  grasping  one  of  the  wil- 
low sprays  as  a  support,  she  leaped  lightly  upon  the  first 
slippery  stepping-stone  leading  to  the  rock  in  the  centre 
of  the  stream. 

Her  companions  implored  her  to  return,  but  with  a  will- 
ful shake  of  her  head  she  went  steadily  on,  picking  her 
way,  while  the  water  boiled  around  her,  until  the  height 
was  gained,  and  she  readied  up  for  the  prize.  "You  see, 
I  am  sure-footed  as  a  chamois,"  she  cried,  gayly.  as  her 
hand  touched  the  feathery  fronds.  But  at  that  instant  a 
tiny  water-snake,  gliding  from  acrevice  in  the  stone,  made 
her  start;  she  lost  her  balance,  and  fell  with  a  loud  cry 
into  the  rushing  water. 

"Help  me,  girls!  save  me!"  she  called,  in  despair,  as 


HAY   1,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


403 


she  tried  in  vain  to  regain  her  feet  on  the  moss-covered 
stones. 

But  her  friends  were  panic-stricken,  none  daring1  to 
venture  to  reach  her.  One  fainted  away,  another  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed  wildly,  while  Edith 
ran  up  and  down,  wringing  her  hands  and  uttering  fright- 
ened cries  for  help. 

Laura  succeeded  in  throwing  one  arm  around  a  stone, 
which  pi-evented  her  drifting  nearer  the  fatal  fall:  but  she 
was  soon  chilled  through,  and  felt  herself  losing  her  hold, 
when  the  bushes  were  pushed  aside,  and  Annette  Le  Brun 
appeared  upon  the  bank. 

"  Will  you  let  Laura  drown  before  your  eyes  ?"  she  ex- 
claimed, indignantly,  as  she  instantly  grasped  the  situa- 
tion; and  hastily  untying  a  wide  sash  that  she  wore,  she 
fairly  forced  Edith  to  stand  still  and  hold  one  (Mid,  while, 
fastening  the  other  about  her  own  waist,  she  ventured 
bravely  out  upon  the  slippery  rocks.  Laura  watched  her 
approach  with  eager  eyes,  and,  when  near  enough,  fiercely 
clutched  the  gay  skirt  of  the  little  shepherdess,  thereby 
almost  dragging  Brownie  also  into  the  stream. 

"Let  go  I"  commanded  the  French  girl,  sternly,  "or  I 
can  do  nothing  for  you.  Wait  until  1  can  brace  myself 
against  the  rock;  then  take  my  hand  and  try  to  rise.'' 

Laura  did  as  she  was  told,  and  with  Annette's  help 
succeeded  in  climbing  up  oil  the  rock,  \\hich  was  high 
enough  to  be  almost  dry. 

"Now  we  must  wait,"  said  Brownie,  "until  they  can 
bnii'j  a  board.  I  will  not  risk  returning  on  the  stones." 

l'>\  this  time  Edith's  screams  had  been  heard,  anil  hi  >\  s 
and  girls  came  trooping  from  all  directions.  Mr.  liever 
ly  too  appeared,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"What  hare-brained  girl  has  been  so  silly  as  to  cross 
the  Naiad  Rapids?"  he  exclaimed.  "It  was  templing 
Providence  indeed." 

"But  that  little  French  girl  is  a  brick."  said  Ralph  Dun- 
can, as  he  and  Carl  hastened  up  with  a  long  plank,  which 
they  threw  across  the  stones,  and  on  this  rudely  construct- 
ed bridge  the  trembling  maidens  returned  safely  to  land. 

"You  are  indeed  a  good,  brave  girl,"  said  Mr.  Beverly, 
with  a  kind  smile,  taking  Brownie's  cold  bauds  in  his. 
"lam  proud  that  May  should  have  such  a  friend;  and 
Miss  Marly  may  well  feel  that  she  owes  her  life  to  you. 
for  some  years  ago  a  laborer's  child  attempted  the  same 
feat,  and  was  swept  over  the  falls  forty  feet  below." 

Annette  was  now  the  heroine  of  the  day.  and  all  crowd- 
ed round  to  praise  her  presence  of  mind  and  courage; 
but  poor  Laura  was  sobbing  and  shivering  with  cold;  so 
Mrs.  Beverly  hurried  her  up  to  the  house  to  change  her 
wet  clothing. 

This  was  soon  accomplished,  and  the  girl,  dressed  in  one 
of  May's  suits,  seemed  to  feel  no  ill  effects  from  her  sud- 
den bath.  But  when  Brownie  stole  softly  into  the  room 
to  try  and  remove  the  spots  which  the  spray  had  made 
on  her  pretty  costume,  she  could  hardly  believe  it  was  her 
haughty,  self-willed  class-mate  who  now  threw  her  arms 
atroctioiiately  round  her  neck,  and  in  such  a  humble  tone 
begged  her  forgiveness  for  her  past  unkind  treatment. 

"For,"  she  said,  with  a  shudder,  "Edith,  Maud,  and 
Clara  were  perfectly  helpless,  and  if  you  had  not  come 
as  you  did  I  should  have  lost  my  hold,  and  been  carried 
down  into  the  dark  ravine  below." 

To  kiss  and  forgive  was  very  easy  for  Brownie;  and 
now  May  too  came  to  thank  her  for  keeping  such  a  shad- 
ow away  from  her  birthday  fete,  and  to  beg  them  both  to 
come  down  to  the  great  hall,  where  all  were  now  engaged 
in  twining  the  May  wreaths.  While  they  were  at  work 
the  boys  disappeared,  and  the  "flower  fays,"  as  some  of 
the  ladies  called  them,  were  suddenly  startled  by  a  cheer- 
ing and  shouting  without. 

Hastening  to  see  what  it  might  mean,  they  beheld  com- 
ing up  the  road  eight  yoke  of  oxen,  with  daisy-chains 
about  their  necks,  their  horns  tipped  with  tiny  nosegays, 


and  drawingafter  them  the  old-fashioned  May -pole,  wound 
with  bright  ribbons  and  flowers,  and  on  which  were  seated 
all  the  merry  lads  in  their  picturesque  costumes. 

With  much  ceremony  and  laughter  the  pole  was  erect- 
ed, and  then  came  the  choosing  of  the  May-Queen.  The 
lot  fell  upon  the  gracious  little  hostess,  who  with  a  queen- 
ly air  ascended  the  mossy  throne  prepared  for  her.  and 
was  crowned  with  the  French  girl's  wreaih,  all  having 
agreed  that  it  was  the  prettiest  among  them  all,  and  with 
a  kiss  for  each  May  chose  Brownie  and  Laura  to  be  her 
maids  of  honor.  A  graceful  dance— borrowed  from  the 
German — then  took  place,  and  merrily  they  waltzed  on 
the  greensward,  while  the  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun 
lighted  up  the  pretty  scene  with  a  roseate  hue. 

It  had  been  a  merry  day  in  spite  of  the  accident,  and 
after  a  bounteous  tea,  served  in  the  hall,  the  evening  hours 
too  sped  by  with  dance  and  song  and  jolly  cheer.  The 
train  left  at  ten  o'clock,  when,  as  she  bade  her  friends 
good-by,  May  put  into  the  hands  of  each  of  her  school- 
mates a  spicy  little  bouquet,  composed  of  sixteen  May- 
flowers, within  which  was  hidden  a  golden  keepsake  as  a 
memento  of  the  day,  while  in  those  for  Laura  and  An- 
nette were  mingled  tiny  sprays  of  maiden-hair  fern  which 
Carl  had  secured  from  Xaiad  Rock. 

"  I  shall  press  mine,"  said  Lair.'a,  "and  always  keep  it 
in  remembrance  of  Brownie's  bravery,  and  I  hope  it  will 
teach  me  to  be  less  foolish  and  self-willed  in  future." 

"And  I,"  said  Annette,  with  a  happy  smile,  "will  do 
the  same,  as  a  souvenir  of  my  two  dearest  friends,  May 
and  Laura,  and  of  this  lovely  May  day  fete." 


JAMES  NASMVTII,  ENGINEER.* 
I;Y  n.  A.  MTXKO. 

IT  was  not  till  tops  came  in  at  the  Edinburgh  High 
School  that  the  boys  began  to  see  that,  after  all,  James 
Nasmyth  was  a  very  smart  fellow.  There  was,  indeed,  no 
reason  why  he  should  be  dull.  He  came  of  a  very  clever 
family;  his  father  was  a  distinguished  painter,  and  had 
been  an  intimate  friend  of  the  great  poet  Robert  Burns, 
and  his  home  was  the  resort  of  many  of  the  great  men  of 
the  Scotch  capital,  like  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Dr.  Brewster, 
who  liked  to  spend  their  evenings  there. 

But  James  did  not  get  on  so  well  with  his  lessons  as 
many  of  the  other  boys  who  had  no  such  advantages.  He 
had  been  taken  from  the  first  school  he  attended  because 
his  teacher  had  been  so  annoyed  by  his  stupidity  as  to 
give  him  a  brutal  whipping,  which  confined  liim  to  bed 
for  more  than  a  week.  Since  coming  to  the  High  School 
he  had  always  manfully  tried  to  master  his  tasks,  but  he 
was  slow  at  learning  from  books,  and  he  remained  steadi- 
ly near  the  foot  of  his  class. 

He  could  read  very  well,  but  he  often  got  into  trouble 
about  his  spelling.  The  rules  of  grammar  and  the  names 
of  the  tenses  puzzled  him  sadly,  and  he  was  fairly  distract- 
ed by  the  irregular  verbs.  So  his  teachers  and  companions 
put  him  down  as  one  of  the  dunces  of  the  school. 

When  top-time  came  the  mistake  was  found  out.  In- 
stead of  going  to  the  stores  like  the  rest  to  purchase  a  to]), 
he  brought  one  down  which  he  had  made  with  his  own 
hands,  and  that  so  well  that  it  would  spin  twice  as  long  as 
any  other  top  in  the  whole  school.  No  top  could  sleep  so 
sweetly  as  his,  and  the  boys  gathered  in  crowds  and  listen- 
ed with  envy  to  its  hum.  It  was  this  top  that  led  to  the 
discovery  that  the  little  left-handed  boy  of  nine  years  bad 
a  wonderful  skill  in  making  things,  and  from  the  time 
when  that  became  known  he  was  a  hero  among  his  school- 
mates. 

*  James  Nasmi/th,  E»r/!>iccr.  An  Autobiography.  E.litril  liv  SAMUEL 
SMILES,  LL.D.,  Author  of  "  Lives  of  the  Engineers,"  "  Sell'-Hulp,"  "  Char- 
acter," etc.  Illustrated.  lliino,  Cloth,  $1  50;  4to,  Paper,  20  Cents. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


'jii-:  iv. 


THE   FAIRIES."— FROM  A  DRAWING  BY  JAMES  NASMYTU. 


Every  one  of  them  was  anxious  to  possess  something 
of  his  manufacture,  and  he  was  kept  constantly  busy  in 
making  toys  for  his  friends.  He  made  kites  for  them, 
and  tissue-paper  balloons,  and  even  the  brass  cannon  for 
celebrating  the  King's  birthday.  Then  he  turned  old  keys 
into  beautiful  little  guns  by  boring  touch-holes  in  their 
barrels,  and  putting  sliding  brass  collars  on  them.  In  fact, 
there  was  scarcely  anything  that  James  could  not  do,  and 
the  boys  were  continually  calling  for  Nasmyth  to  give 
them  advice  or  assistance  in  their  difficulties. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  this  skill  had  come  to 
James  only  when  his  companions  found  out  about  it.  He 
had  always  been  an  observant,  old-fashioned  child,  and 
had  begun  to  notice  things,  his  mother  used  to  say,  when 
lie  was  only  four  days  old;  and  from  his  earliest  years 
tools  and  things  made  with  tools  were  his  greatest  delight. 
When  the  servants  took  him  for  a  walk  past  the  Calton 
Hill,  he  would  steal  away  from  them  and  peep  in  at  the 
doors  of  the  workshops,  where  men  were  at  work  of  dif- 
ferent kinds  amid  the  blaze  of  fires  and  the  beatings  of 
hammers. 

The  greater  part  of  James's  knowledge  was  acquired  in 
his  father's  work-room.  This  was  an  apartment  ill  which 
Mr.  Nasmyth  kept  a  large  variety  of  tools  with  which  he 
amused  himself  when  tired  of  painting.  After  James  had 
learned  to  walk  he  would  follow  his  father  thither  at  ev- 
ery opportunity,  and  sit  for  hours  near  the  bench,  trying 
to  understand  all  that  was  going  on.  As  he  grew  older, 
Mr.  Nasmyth  explained  to  him  how  the  different  tools 
should  be  used,  until  at  length  he  was  able  to  handle  them 
himself  to  such  good  purpose  that  he  was  dubbed  ''the  lit- 
tle jack-of -all-trades."  It  was  in  his  father's  work-room 
that  he  made  the  toys  which  won  the  admiration  of  the 
High  School  boys.  Mr.  Nasmyth  gave  his  son  also  care- 
ful training  in  the  art  of  drawing,  and  James  soon  learned 
to  express  his  thoughts  clearly  and  exactly  by  a  few  strokes 
of  the  pencil.  In  after-years  this  accomplishment  was 
invaluable  to  him  in  the  pursuit  of  his  profession,  as  well 
as  a  source  of  amusement  in  his  leisure  hours,  which  were 
frequently  beguiled  by  sketching  places  he  had  visited,  or 
scenes  conjured  up  by  his  imagination.  The  accompany- 


ing illustration,  giving  his  idea  of  the  dainty  little  inhab- 
itants of  fairy-land,  is  a  specimen  of  a  series  of  fanciful 
drawings  made  by  him  as  a  rest  after  his  day's  labors. 

James  was  very  glad  when  he  left  school.  He  longed 
to  be  an  engineer.  He  set  himself  in  earnest  to  increase 
his  knowledge  of  mechanics,  and  by  the  continual  use  of 
his  eyes  and  his  fingers  he  made  rapid  progress.  He 
turned  his  bedroom  into  a  small  brass  foundry,  taking  up 
the  carpet  to  prevent  its  being  soiled,  and  he  would  work 
there  at  night  long  after  he  should  have  been  sound 
asleep.  When  he  was  seventeen  years  old.  he  made  a 
small  working  engine,  which  he  gave  to  his  father  to  use 
in  grinding  the  oil-colors  for  his  pictures ;  and  as  Mr.  Nas- 
myth took  great  pride  in  exhibiting  the  beautiful  machine 
to  the  friends  and  patrons  who  visited  his  studio,  people 
began  to  talk  about  James,  and  to  predict  great  things  of 
him.  One  of  his  inventions  was  described  in  a  scientilic 
journal,  and  he  constructed  a  steam-carriage  for  the  Scot- 
tish Society  of  Arts,  which  for  several  months  was  the 
amazement  of  the  whole  town. 

At  length  James  felt  that  he  had  learned  as  much  as 
was  to  be  learned  in  Edinburgh,  and  he  went  to  London, 
where  he  was  engaged  as  private  assistant  to  a  noted  en- 
gineer, whose  factory  was  the  perfection  of  mechanical 
excellence.  Here  he  made  the  best  use  of  his  rare  oppor- 
tunities of  forming  an  acquaintance  with  the  principles 
of  his  profession,  so  that  when  his  kind  master  died  he 
determined  to  set  up  in  business  for  himself.  Manchester 
was  selected  as  the  place  where  he  should  try  his  fortunes, 
and  thither  he  went,  with  a  collection  of  tools  which  he 
had  made  for  himself,  and  a  few  letters  of  introduction. 

He  soon  found,  however,  that  the  small  sum  of  money 
which  he  possessed  was  not  enough  to  pay  the  rent  of  a 
suitable  shop,  and  as  his  father  poor  and  could  give 

him  no  assistance,  it  looked  as  if  he  must  fail  at  the  very 
outset  of  his  career.  Thci  'ed  in  Manchester  at  that 
time  three  brothers — W  :  iid.  and  John  Grant 

— sons  of  a  poor  Scotch  cat tie-drover,  who  by  means  of 
economy  and  hard  work  1  lli.'insclves  into  posi- 

tions of  wealth  and  inftu'  ur<  Tin-y  had  never  forgotten 
their  own  early  struggles,  and  .vcre  ever  ready  to  give  a 


MAY    1,  18S3. 


IIAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


-in;, 


kindly  word  or  a  helping  hand  to  young  men  starting  in 
life.  Under  the  name  of  the  Brothers  (  'heeryble,  the  em- 
ployers of  good  old  Tim  Linkimvater,  the  great  novelist 
( 'iiarles  bit-kens  has  given  a  charming  description  of  them 
in  his  story  Nicholas  XirLlrhi/. 

A  friend  took  young  Nasm yth  to  the  office  of  the  Messrs. 
Grant.  One  of  the  brothers  invited  him  to  lunch,  and  as 
they  sat  at  table  the  good  old  gentleman  listened  with  in- 
terest to  the  young  stranger's  account  of  himself,  and 
then,  with  a  warm  pressure  of  the  hand,  whispered  to  him 
— for  there  was  a  large  company  present — that  if  he  need- 
ed money  he  could  have  the  use  of  twenty-live  hundred 
dollars.  James  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears,  but  Mr. 
Grant  winked  at  him  in  such  a  knowing  way  that  there 
could  be  no  further  doubt  about  the  generous  offer,  for 
which  James  returned  his  most  grateful  thanks. 

As  soon  as  the  party  broke  up  James  lost  no  time  in  en- 
gaging a  flat  in  a  large  factory  near  the  centre  of  the  city, 
and  he  had  not  been  there  long'  before  he  became  \\ell 
known  among  the  people  of  ManeheMer.  His  business 
increased  with  great  rapidity,  to  the  terror  of  a  glass  cut- 
ter who  occupied  the  room  underneath,  and  who.  as  he 
heard  the  clang  of  the  hammers  and  the  movements  of 
the  great  masses  of  iron  overhead,  expected  to  see  I  lie 
machinery  and  engines  come  crashing  down  upon  him 
through  the  floor. 

At  length  the  ceiling  gave  way  beneath  the  u  eight  of 
an  immense  iron  beam,  and  the  glass-cutter  with  dismay 
saw  his  tumblers  and  decanters  shivered  to  atoms  b\  a 
shower  of  broken  plaster.  Nasmyth  was  immediately  in- 
formed by  his  landlord  that  he  must  quit  the  premises. 
With  characteristic  energy  he  at  once  secured  a  vacant 


piece  of  land  in  a  convenient  place,  and  there  he  built  a 
factory  of  his  own.  which,  as  the  Bridgewater  Foundry. 
u  as  soon  known  all  over  the  world  as  the  home  of  some  of 
the  most  useful  inventions  of  modern  times. 

Nasmytli's  most  famous  invention  was  the  steam-ham- 
mer, by  means  of  which  large  masses  of  iron  can  be  forged 
with  the  greatest  ease.  It  is  a  very  heavy  machine,  of  im- 
mense power,  and  yet  so  delicately  made  that  the  work- 
man, by  means  of  a  lever,  can  direct  its  operations  with 
the  utmost  nicety.  The  great  steam-hammer  at  Wool- 
wich Arsenal,  in  England,  can  be  made  to  give  so  gentle 
a  blow  as  to  crack  the  end  of  an  egg  placed  in  a  wine- 
glass on  the  anvil,  while  the  next  blow  may  be  given 
with  such  force  as  to  be  felt  two  miles  away.  The  origi- 
nal drawings  for  this  wonderful  contrivance  were  made 
li\  Nasmyth  in  about  half  an  hour. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL. "* 

BY      JAMES      OTIS, 

ArTimr.  OF  "ToBY  TYLEB,"  "Tni  AMI  Tir,"  "Mis.  STI-IIHS'S  BROTHER, "ETC. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   DISCOURAGED   PIRATE. 

THANKS  to  the  early  hour  at  which  the  young  wreck- 
ers went  to  bed,  they  were  up  almost  as  soon  as  the 
sun  was  on  the  day  when  the  success  or  failure  of  their 
plan  for  raising  the  1'i'tirl  was  to  be  decided. 


*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


THE    BOYS    DISCOVER    THE    PIRATE. 


406 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


The  rafts  floated  securely  where  they  had  been  anchor- 
ed on  the  previous  night,  and  as  the  boys  looked  at  their 
stout  frames,  which  would  offer  so  much  resistance  to  any 
•weight  that  might  be  put  upon  them,  it  was  easy  to  believe 
that  when  they  were  made  fast  to  the  steamer  the  action 
of  the  tide  would  lift  the  Pearl  very  readily. 

They  had  three  hours  at  their  disposal  before  the  water 
would  be  low  enough  to  admit  of  their  beginning  work, 
and  this  time  was  to  be  employed  in  releasing  Tommy 
from  his  imprisonment. 

Breakfast  was  hurriedly  eaten,  and  without  any  fear 
that  their  belongings  in  the  tent  would  be  disturbed,  even 
if  any  one  from  the  town  should  come  to  pay  them  a 
visit,  they  started  for  Dollar  Island  and  the  pirate. 

The  pull  over  was  not  as  hard  as  when  they  had  rowed 
Captain  Sammy,  for  the  boat  they  were  then  in  was  not 
as  large  as  the  one  Tommy  had  wrecked,  and  besides  it 
was  earlier  in  the  day,  and  consequently  much  cooler. 

They  had  supposed  that  Master  Tucker  would  keep  a  very 
sharp  lookout  for  approaching  boats,  and  had  no  doubt 
but  that  he  would  be  on  the  beach  awaiting  their  arrival. 
But  when  they  landed  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
They  began  to  think  he  had  already  been  rescued,  and 
that  their  labor  had  been  in  vain.  But  they  did  not  pro- 
pose to  return  until  they  had  made  a  thorough  effort  to 
find  him;  therefore  they  went  to  their  old  camping  place 
as  a  good  starting-point  from  which  to  begin  the  search. 

When  they  arrived  there  they  understood  why  it  was 
the  prisoner  had  not  welcomed  them  to  the  island. 

There,  on  the  ground,  on  the  same  spot  where  they  had 
encamped,  lay  the  once  brave  but  now  thoroughly  cowed 
pirate,  sleeping  quite  as  soundly  as  if  he  had  been  in  his 
own  bed  at  home.  Around  him  were  a  number  of  shells, 
showing  that  Captain  Sammy  was  right  when  he  said  the 
toy  would  find  something  to  eat,  and  by  his  side  was  a 
club  almost  as  large  as  himself,  which  he  had  probably 
taken  to  bed  with  him  in  case  it  should  become  necessary 
to  defend  himself. 

Dare  leaned  over  and  shook  him  several  times  before 
he  awoke.  Then,  as  soon  as  his  eyes  were  opened,  he 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  looked  anxiously  around,  as  if  he 
expected  to  see  Captain  Sammy  pop  out  of  the  bushes 
somewhere  near  him. 

"Where  is  he?"  he  asked,  as  if  doubting  whether  he 
could  trust  the  intentions  of  his  visitors. 

"  He's  at  home,  if  you  mean  Captain  Sammy,"  replied 
Dare;  "  and  we  have  come  to  take  you  home  too." 

"Are  you  goin'  to  take  me  to  him  ?"  he  asked,  with  very 
little  of  the  piratical  swagger  that  had  frightened  Bobby 
at  the  time  he  captured  the  boat. 

"  No;  you  shall  go  wherever  you  want  to."  And  then 
Dare  told  him  of  the  arrangement  they  had  made  regard- 
ing him. 

"If  you  promise  us  that  you'll  behave  yourself  in  the 
future,  he  won't  trouble  you  unless  you  go  where  he  is.'' 
"  No  danger  of  that." 
"  And  will  you  promise  ?"  urged  Dare. 
"Yes,"  said  Tommy,  "I'll  promise,  an'  I'll  keep  it  too. 
I  did  think  I  wanted  to  be  a  pirate,  but  somehow  it  ain't 
as  much  fun  as  I  thought  it  would  be,  an'  now  that  the 
flag  an'  my  sash  an'  cap  are  gone,  I'll  let  I  key  Jones  be 
the  pirate,  an'  I'll  look  round  for  somethin'  else." 

Dare  told  him  they  had  heard  that  I  key  Jones  had  also 
reformed,  so  that  the  pirates  of  Tampa  no  longer  had  an 
existence,  save  in  the  memory  of  Captain  Sammy,  and  it 
would  be  likely  to  ri-main  green  there  each  time  he  thought 
of  his  wrecked  boat. 

They  remained  on  Dollar  Island  about  half  an  hour, 
and  when  they  started  on  their  return  trip  Master  Tucker 
took  one  of  the  oars,  working  at  it  manfully  until  they 
were  within  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  shore.  Then 
lie  ceased  rowing,  as  if  he  began  to  mistrust  what  had  been 
told  him,  and  looking  Dare  full  in  the  face,  he  asked: 


"Now  you  ain't  foolin'  me,  are  you  ?" 

"How  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Cap'n  Sammy  ain't  hidin'  anywhere  "round  here  where 
he  can  jump  out  an'  nab  me  jest  the  minute  we  get  on 
shore,  is  he  ?" 

"If  you  don't  believe  iis,"  said  Dare,  with  considerable 
dignity,  for  he  felt  hurt  that  they  should  be  doubted  after 
all  they  had  done,  "you  can  land  wherever  you  say,  and, 
then  you  will  be  sure  we  are  not  deceiving  you." 

"I  ain't  'zactly  'fraid,  an'  I  don't  think  you'd  tell  any 
lies  about  it,"  said  Tommy,  with  some  hesitation  ;  "but 
if  it  don't  make  any  difference  to  you,  I'd  rather  get  out 
further  down  the  beach." 

The  boat  was  headed  in  the  direction  he  desired,  and 
when  the  land  was  reached  Tommy  first  made  sure  that 
his  enemy  was  nowhere  in  sight,  and  theu  jumped  out 
quickly. 

"Now  see  here,  fellers,"  he  said,  as  he  held  on  to  the 
bow  of  the  boat  for  a  moment,  "you've  helped  me  out  of 
a  bad  scrape,  an'  I'll  keep  my  promise  to  you  jest  as  long 
as  Cap'n  Sammy  lets  me  alone."  Then  with  a  "good-by" 
to  the  boys,  he  ran  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him  in 
the  direction  of  his  home. 

There  was  not  one  of  the  boys  who  did  not  believe  but 
that  Tommy  would  keep  his  word,  and  had  they  been  told 
then  that  they  would  be  sorry  that  they  had  released  the 
prisoner,  they  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea. 

It  was  not  a  long  distance  from  where  Tommy  had  been 
landed  to  where  the  Pearl  lay,  and  when  they  arrived  at 
the  scene  of  their  labors  Captain  Sammy  was  just  coming 
up  in  a  boat  rowed  by  two  men. 

The  little  man  looked  at  them  savagely,  as  if  he  was 
angry  with  himself  for  having  given  his  permission  for 
the  release  of  Tommy;  but  he  said  nothing,  which  was 
quite  a  relief  to  the  boys. 

The  tide  was  nearly  down,  and  it  was  evident  that  the 
little  man  had  come  there  to  work,  for  after  ordering  the 
men  to  row  him  directly  to  the  rafts,  he  called  out  for  the 
boys  to  bring  him  the  cables. 

It  was  quite  a  task  to  carry  the  long  chains  from  the 
beach  to  the  boat,  and  while  it  was  being  done  Captain 
Sammy  and  his  men  busied  themselves  in  examining  the 
rafts  and  the  position  of  the  sunken  steamer. 

"Now,  then,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  when  the  chains 
were  finally  placed  on  one  of  the  rafts,  "we  are  goin'  to 
help  you  make  fast  to  the  Pearl,  and  after  that  you  will 
have  to  do  all  the  work  yourselves.  While  we  are  pass- 
ing the  chains  under  the  steamer  you  had  better  be  stretch- 
ing a  hawser  from  the  rafts  to  the  shore,  so  that  you  can 
haul  them  in  at  high  water." 

Even  the  fastening  of  the  hawsers  was  not  such  a  sim- 
ple task  as  it  looked.  It  was  necessary  to  attach  a  short 
one  first  to  each  raft,  and  then  fasten  the  two  ends  on  to  a 
longer  one,  so  that  when  the  boys  pulled  the  rafts  and 
their  burden  inshore,  they  would  move  at  the  same  time, 
and  under  the  same  amount  of  force.  Otherwise  a  swing- 
ing motion  might  be  imparted  to  the  yacht  as  she  hung  in 
the  chains,  and  thus  become  displaced  or  wrenched. 

Long  as  it  took  the  boj-s  to  get  the  hawsers  arranged 
properly,  Captain  Sammy  did  not  seem  to  have  begun  his 
portion  of  the  work  when  they  had  finished;  at  least  that 
was  what  Dare  thought  at  first,  although  he  afterward 
changed  his  mind. 

One  end  of  each  of  the  two  cables  had  been  wound  sev- 
eral times  around  the  log  that  formed  one  side  of  the  raft 
on  the  port  side  of  the  Pearl,  and  then  made  secure  by 
two  heavy  staples.  The  middle,  or  bight,  of  the  chains 
hung  down  in  the  water,  while  the  other  ends  were  thrown 
over  the  raft  lying  to  starboard. 

"We're  all  ready  now  to  hook  on,  and  it  must  be  full 
low  water,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  as  he  consulted  his 
watch,  and  the  boys  looked  upon  the  remark  as  an  order 
for  them  to  be  readv  to  assist. 


MAY  1,  1SS3. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


407 


They  rowed  out  to  the  port  raft,  and  there  waited  the 
little  man's  pleasure.  The  two  men  had  gotten  into  their 
boat,  which  they  anchored  directly  over  the  bow  of  the 
Pearl,  and  there,  each  holding-  a  long  boat-hook,  they  too 
waited  for  Captain  Sammy  to  give  the  word. 

The  little  man  was  on  the  starboard  raft,  and  when  he 
was  satisfied  that  every  one  was  ready,  he  shouted,  as  he 
grasped  the  unsecured  end  of  the  cable, 

"Dare,  you  and  Charley  lean  over  the  raft  and  swing 
your  end  of  the  cable  inshore;  and  yon,"  he  added  to  his 
men,  "stand  ready.'1 

The.  boys  obeyed  the  order  without  understanding  what 
they  were  to  effect;  and  when  the  heavy  chain  was  slow- 
ly swung  toward  the  beach,  the  men  in  the  boat  fastened 
the  iron-shod  end  of  their  poles  into  it  at  its  lowest  point 
in  the  water,  pushing  it  directly  under  the  bow  of  the 
sunken  steamer. 

Captain  Sammy  quickly  made  his  end  of  the  cable  fast 
with  a  piece  of  rope,  and  then  exactly  the  same  work  was 
done  on  the  other. 

After  the  two  cables  were  thus  in  position  the  two  rafts 
•were  swung  nearer  together,  and  the  two  logs  which  the 
boys  thought  had  been  uselessly  cut  were  placed  across 
from  one  raft  to  the  other,  about  ten  feet  apart. 

The  cables  oil  the  starboard  raft  were  hauled  as  taut  as 
possible,  after  which  their  ends  were  secured  as  firmly  as 
on  the  other  raft. 

Captain  Sammy  then  produced  from  his  boat  four  stout 
chains,  each  about  twenty  feet  in  length,  and  having 
large  clamps  at  one  end. 

These  lie  hooked  on  to  the  cables  a  short  distance  below 
the  surface  of  the  water,  one  on  each  side,  and  brought 
them  up  around  the  two  logs. 

"There,  my  lads, "said  Captain  Sammy,  triumphantly, 
"  when  you  want  to  take  up  the  slack  to-morrow,  all  you 
have  to  do  is  to  anchor  the  rafts  as  far  apart  as  possible, 
drop  the  clamps  farther  down  on  the  main  cable,  and  be- 
lay the  short  chains.  Besides,  by  this  means,  you  see, 
there  is  no  chance  for  the  rafts  to  swing  one  way  or  the 
other,  and  drop  the  Pearl  out  just  when  you  thought  you 
had  her  fast." 

It  was  a  contrivance  which  the  boys  would  never  have 
thought  of,  and  Dare  was  now  very  glad  that  Captain 
Sammy  had  been  anxious  to  aid  them. 

All  hands  now  turned  their  attention  to  drawing  the 
short  chains  taut,  and  this  was  done  by  the  means  of  a 
capstan  bar.  a  turn  being  taken  around  one  end  of  it,  and 
then  the  bar  being  used  as  a  lever. 

Each  one  had  been  drawn  up  as  taut  as  the  strength  of 
the  workmen  could  make  them,  a  double  hook  was  fast- 
ened through  the  links,  and  then  their  portion  of  the  work 
was  done.  It  was  for  the  water  to  do  the  remainder. 

The  tide  had  commenced  to  flow,  and  all  hands  went 
on  shore  to  watch  the  effect  of  their  labor,  the  boys  so  ex- 
cited that  it  seemed  as  if  the  minutes  had  twice  the  usual 
number  of  seconds  in  them. 

[TO   UK    CONTINUED.] 


THE  LOST  BOAT  OF  '37. 

BY  ARTHUR  LINDSLEY. 

"rpHAT  is  a  splendid  skin,  that  white  bear's.     What  a 
_L   magnificent  carriage  robe  it  would  make!    I  should 
think  you  would  use  it  for  that  purpose." 

"Carriage  robe!  No,  no.  It  is  too  precious  for  that, 
or  for  anything  else  which  could  tend  to  wear  or  to  soil 
it.  There  is  too  much  history  written  all  over  its  white 
fur;  it  carries  too  many  associations  with  it,  some  of  them 
pleasant,  some  of  them  sad,  to  let  it  ever  go  into  common 
use.  Why,  the  very  fight  in  which  it  was  won  deserves 
a,  poem,  to  say  nothing  of  what  the  result  of  the  fight  dis- 
closed. I  must,  tell  you  the  story. 

"But  before  commencing,  just  look  at  this  wood-cut. 


Only  a  week  ago  I  came  upon  it  by  accident,  as  we  may 
say.  and  it  fairly  took  my  breath  away  for  a  moment. 
Where  the  artist  found  his  material  I  do  not  know;  but 
if  he  had  looked  through  the  sights  of  my  rifle  one  day  in 
the  summer  of  '72.  and  then  sketched  what  he  saw,  he 
could  hardly  have  drawn  more  correctly  the  objects  which 
had  brought  my  rille  to  my  shoulder. 

"  There  they  stood,  those  two  brutes,  with  just  that  love- 
ly smile  on  their  faces  and  that  peculiarly  expressive  snarl 
which  you  can  almost  hear  as  you  look  at  the  picture  (at 
least  I  can),  and  the  next  instant  things  were  lively. 

"But  I  must  go  back  to  tell  you  how  it  was  that  I 
chanced  upon  a  spot  which  brought  finally  so  much  ro- 
mance to  light.  Our  ship  had  been  for  two  days  solidly 
blocked  in  the  ice  on  the  southern  side  of  Jones  Sound, 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  northwest  of  Caledon  Point.  As 
there  seemed  no  prospect  of  any  motion  in  the  pack  which 
would  release  the  ship,  half  a  dozen  of  us  had  started  out 
early  that  morning  for  a  walk  and  a  scramble  toward  and 
along  the  land,  ready  for  any  adventure  that  might  occur. 
We  headed  into  the  deep  bight  between  Caledon  Point 
and  Belcher  Point,  entering  a  small  cove,  whose  position, 
as  I  afterward  determined  it,  is  quite  accurately  in  75°  46' 
N.  and  81C  40'  W. 

"The  ice  which  we  had  crossed  since  leaving  the  ship 
had  been  rough,  formed  of  cakes  tumbled  here  and  there 
by  th  •  movements  of  the  floe,  and  was  clearly  of  recent 
formation.  We  had  no  sooner  entered  the  'gate'  than 
we  were  in  another  region.  The  surface  was  compara- 
tively smooth,  and  no  words  were  needed  to  assure  us 
that  the  ice  was  old.  It  bore  the  stamp  of  age  on  every 
s,ide. 

"  'I  should  not  wonder,' said  one  of  the  men,  'if  this 
here  cove  froze  up  five  thousand  years  ago,  and  forgot  to 
thaw  out  again.' 

'  To  be  sure  it  did,'  said  another.  '  It  is  the  very  place 
where  old  Adam  used  to  do  his  skating.  See,  there  is  an 
S  that  he  cut  on  the  backward  roll.' 

"But  my  curiosity  was  so  strongly  excited  by  the 
strange,  old  look  of  everything'  about  us  that  I  pressed  on 
rapidly,  and  when  we  reached  the  rocks  that  marked  the 
left  border  of  the  inlet  already  mentioned,  my  comrade 
Howard  and  myself  were  about  a  hundred  yards  in  ad- 
vance of  the  men.  We  passed  the  point,  and,  sure  enough, 
a  smooth  surface  of  ice  stretched  between  the  hills  several 
miles  inland  ;  but  we  saw  nothing  of  ice  or  hills,  for  right 
before  us,  and  not  thirty  yards  away,  was  the  picture. 

"As  I  said  before,  it  seems  as  though  Mr.  Specht  must 
actually  have  seen  what  I  saw  then.  The  positions,  the 
expression,  the  intention,  are  all  there.  That  sweet-look- 
ing old  she-bear  on  her  hind-legs,  with  one  paw  on  her 
cub's  shoulder,  stood  there  fora  second  just  as  you  see  her, 
but  it  was  only  for  a  second.  They  seemed  to  have  been 
examining  the  ruins  of  the.  old  boat  when  they  heard  our 
approach,  and  were  ready  instantly  for  fight. 

'  'Quick,  Howard!  Ready  with  your  rifle,  man.  Here 
they  come!'  and  like  a  flash  they  did  come.  The  horrid 
snarl  changed  to  a  burst  that  was  the  beginning  of  a 
howl,  but  ceased  abruptly,  and  they  made  their  dash  with- 
out a  sound;  they  were  too  much  in  earnest  to  waste 
breath  in  that  way.  Howard  was  on  my  left,  and  of 
course  the  mother  fell  to  me.  The  reports  of  the  rifles 
came  together,  and  the  two  bears  went  down  together. 
The  old  one  never  stirred  a  muscle;  the  force  with  which 
she  had  sprung  doubled  her  in  a  heap,  find  whirled  her 
over  till  she  lay  on  her  back  with  her  tail  toward  me. 
My  ball  had  struck  her  right  eye,  and  ploughed  up  the 
entire  base  of  her  brain.  Death  came  in  a  moment. 

"The  cub  dropped  like  his  mother,  but  scrambled  to  his 
feet  again.  Howard  had  aimed  at  his  left  eye.  and  had 
struck  it  not  quite  fairly.  But  before  the  bear  could  recov- 
er himself  the  second  ball  did  its  work,  and  the  fight  was 
ended. 


408 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


' '  '  Well,  well,  old  fellow, '  said  Howard,  turning  around 
coolly  to  me.  '  lively  bit  of  a  breeze  we  have  had.' 
'Breeze,'  said  I.  'I  should  think  so;  sharper  and 
quicker  than  a  West  African  squall.'  By  this  time  we 
had  reached  the  two  huge  bodies.  The  size  of  the  mo- 
ther you  can  see,  for  this  is  her  skin :  we  judged  that  her 
weight  must  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  nine  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds.  The  other  I  have  called  a  cub,  but  he  was 
as  large  nearly  as  his  mother — certainly  as  heavy  within 
a  hundred  pounds. 


"THEY    SEEMED    To    HAVE    BEEN    EXAMINING    THE    RUINS    OF    AN    OLD    BOAT. 


' '  The  men  now  came  hurrying  up,  and  for  a  while  great 
were  the  excitement  and  the  rejoicing.  We  were  making 
preparations  for  carrying  the  skins  and  the  meat  to  the 
ship  (no  easy  task  over  such  a  rough  surface),  when  a  cry 
from  Howard  aroused  us:  'The  boat!  look  at  the  boat!' 
and  forthwith  the  bears  were  forgotten  and  abandoned, 
and  we  hastened  away  to  the  spot  where  they  had  been 
standing  as  we  first  saw  them. 

"  Projecting  just  a  little  from  the  ice  were  the  worn  and 
broken  timbers  of  a  boat.  It  was  not  at  all  strange  that  in 
the  whirl  and  the  excitement  of  the  moment  Howard  and  I 


had  not  noticed  them.  Of  course  our  interest  was  intense. 
In  that  fearful  world  of  ice  and  cold  an  abandoned  buat 
tells  always  a  tale  of  woe  and  horror. 

"The  Jirst  tiling  we  noticed  was  that,  old  as  the  ice  all 
about  us  might  be,  the  boat  was  older.  And  the  next  was 
that  she  had  been  frozen  in  and  made  fast  by  the  ice  at 
the  very  point  where  we  found  her.  Her  top-sides,  it  is 
true,  were  shattered  and  broken,  but  in  such  a  manner  as 
to  show  that  it  had  been  done  by  time,  storms,  and  bears, 
rather  than  by  floating  and  running  ice.  Her  lower 

works  were  still  entire,  and 
__,  if  taken  into  open  water  she 
could  still  have  carried  an 
ordinary  crew.  This  latter 
fact  we  could  not  learn,  of 
<•oiir.se,  till  we  had  removed 
the  greater  part  of  the  ice 
and  snow  which  mostly  fill- 
ed her.  But  everything  in 
relation  to  her  showed  that 
hln-  had  been  built  long, 
long  ago  :  how  long  we 
could  scarcely  venture  to 
think. 

'  '  llc.w  long,  Tom  ?' 
' '  Heaven  only  knows, 
sir.  Before  we  were  born, 
I'm  a-thinking,'  replied  he. 
very  solemnly.  This  was  as 
\ve  had  only  commenced  re- 
moving the  ice.  Not  anoth- 
er word  was  spoken,  until, 
nearly  down  to  her  keel,  one 
of  the  men  broke  out  a  piece 
of  ice,  and  called  out,  'Look 
here,  sir — look  here.  This 
is  a  jacket.  No ;  it  is  only 
a  bit  of  a  pocket,  after  all.' 
And  a  pocket  it  was — the 
only  remnant  we  found  of 
her  ill-starred  crew. 

'•  But  what  a  tale  it  told ! 
The  bears  had  doubtless 
dragged  away  and  devoured 
the  bodies  long  years  be- 
fore, this  little  piece  being 
in  some  way  torn  off  and 
left.  In  it  we  found  a  scrap 
of  paper.  It  was  the  com- 
mencement of  a  letter  of 
which  the  main  portion  had 
been  carried  off  with  the 
garment,  probably  with  the 
body  of  the  writer.  It  was 
written  in  pencil,  and  evi- 
dently by  a  hand  cramp- 
ed and  stiffened  with  cold, 
though  the  heart  was  warm 
as  ever.  This  is  what  was 
written,  or  rather  what  /.s 
written,  for  here  on  the  in- 
side of  the  bear-skin  I  have 
Look  at  it,  and  think  of  the 


fastened  the  original  scrap, 
heart-ache  that  went  with  it : 

-•Any lift  34,  183T. 

••  My  DAKLING  MOTIIEK, — I  shall  never  see  you  a^ain.  (iod 
help  you!  God  help  you!  Our  ship  is  crushed  in  the'  ice.  ^ev- 
en of  us  took  to  the  quarter-boat,  ami  we  have  hceu  uo\v  six 
days  without  food.  Tho  others  have  died,  and  I  am — ' 

"That  is  all.  Thirty-five  years  that  boat  and  that 
pocket  with  its  scrap  of  paper  had  been  in  the  ice.  Poor 
mother !  who  she  was,  where  she  lived,  we  never  knew. 
All  we  could  say  was,  '  God  help  her !'  " 


MAY   1,  1883. 


IIAKI'Kirs   YOUNG   1'KnPLK. 


409 


r< 

*    • 


• 


, 


t. 


'  fW 

x 


•    rW 


CROWNING  TI1E    MAY-QUEEN. 


I 


"  FIVE  FINGERS." 

BY    MRS.    LUCY    C.    LILLIE. 

WAS  once  staying  in  a  foreign  hotel,  where  for  an  hour  ] 


by  the  clock  on  my  mantel  this  "  Da-da,  da-da,"  with  only 
the  variations  usually  introduced,  went  on  for  fully  that 
length  of  time. 

"  Unhappy  child !"  I  used  to  say  to  myself;  "  can  she  or 


daily  I  used  to  be  tormented  by  hearing  some  one  over-  I  he  never  get  beyond  that  drudgery  ;''  But  it  was  evident 
head  play  five-finger  exercises.  Now  fifteen  minutes  of  the  five-finger  student  was  not  alone,  for,  later,  would 
five-finger  exercises  may  seem  to  the  listener  an  hour,  but  !  come  the  most  astonishing  practicing,  which  showed  a 


410 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


master  hand.  It  perplexed  me  until  I  found  that  but 
one  musician  was  at  work.  The  student  of  the  five-finger 
exercises  proved  to  be  no  other  tban  one  of  the  most  fa- 
mous pianists  in  the  world. 

I  mention  this  fact  simply  to  show  my  young:  readers 
that  the  greatest  musicians  do  not  disdain  to  employ  this 
simple  method  of  improving1  their  execution.  In  some 
conservatories  of  late  there  has  been  a  great  deal  of  dis- 
cussion as  to  how  the  finger  exercises  should  be  played, 
and  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  I  have  ever  heard  on  the 
subject  which  can  be  applied  to  general  practice. 

Look  at  your  fingers — the  left  hand  and  the  right. 
What  do  you  wish  to  do  with  them  if  you  are  to  be  a  pi- 
anist of  any  merit  ?  You  wish  to  gain  perfect  control 
over  them,  so  that  you  may  strike  any  note  with  any  fin- 
ger with  equal  ease,  making  the  sound  suit  the  music  ? 

"  Oh,"  says  a  discouraged  young  reader,  "I  never  could 
make  my  fourth  finger  as  strong  as  my  first."  That  is, 
however,  just  where  you  are  mistaken.  The  third  and 
fourth  fingers  can  be  made  precisely  as  strong'  as  the  first. 
and,  oh,  the  relief  of  being  able  to  execute  a  difficult  pas- 
sage without  tiring  any  one  finger  in  particular! 

Now  while  general  exercises  are  very  valuable,  accord- 
ing to  the  best  masters  we  can  not  possibly  do  without 
the  five-finger  exercises  if  \ve  would  gain  the  force  needed 
in  piano-playing,  and  so  we  ought  to  consider  most  care- 
fully what  to  do  with  them.  Not  very  long  ago  nearly 
all  masters  taught  their  pupils  to  hold  down  one  note 
while  striking  the  next,  but  I  believe  this  practice  to  be 
discarded  now.  Squeeze  the  note  ever  so  slightly,  but  lift 
each  finger  after  striking  with  it,  holding  the  hand  slight- 
ly elevated,  and  the  knuckle  part  a  little  sunken. 

It  would  not  be  possible  here  for  me  to  give  you  all  the 
ideas  of  the  best  masters  of  the  piano-forte  on  finger  prac- 
tice, nor,  indeed,  to  do  more  than  offer  suggestions  as  to 
what  is  really  necessary  in  beginning  the  study  of  music, 
but  a  few  words  I  can  say  about  various  methods. 

The  best  conservatories  and  the  best  masters  leach  as  a 
leading  principle  that  you  must  take  things  slowly — it  can 
hardly  be  too  slowly.  A  pupil  of  Deppe  (one  of  the  most 
successful  teachers  in  the  world)  told  me  that  he  spent 
sometimes  one  hour  a  day  with  his  master  simply  learning 
how  to  hold  his  fingers  and  hand.  "And  yet,"  said  this 
young  man,  "when  I  went  to  Deppe  I  thought  myself  a 
fine  pianist,  but  Deppe  discovered  at  once  and  showed  me 
very  plainly  that  I  had  never  learned  how  to  lift  my  fin- 
gers and  touch  the  note  properly." 
"And  what  did  you  begin  with  ''." 

''  Oh,"  he  answered,  "the  simple  five-finger  exercises." 
I  remember  once  hearing  a  little  girl  of  fourteen  play 
surprisingly  well,  and  on  asking  her  if  she  practiced  a 
great  deal,  she  said  not  so  many  hours  a  day,  but  so  care- 
fully. She  also  told  me  that  her  master  made  her  prac- 
tice her  finger  exercises  for  fifteen  minutes  at  the  end  of 
each  hour.  Now  let  any  discouraged  little  student  try 
what  even  fifteen  minutes  a  day  will  do.  The  reward  will 
surely  come  in  the  satisfaction  you  will  have  in  finding 
yourself  able  to  do  well  what  you  have  beon  doing  badly. 
At  a  musical  gathering  in  Paris  a  young  man  performed 
very  brilliantly,  and  two  famous  musicians  standing  near 
the  piano  discussed  his  merits.  "  What  a  pity,"  said  one 
of  them,  "that  he  never  was  taught  the  real  use  of  these," 
and  he  stretched  out  his  five  fingers  in  the  air. 

"Oh, "but  a  young  reader  may  remark,  "I  always 
practice  my  finger  exercises  an  hour  a  day."  But  the  real 
question  is,  lioir  do  you  practice  them  ?  I  once  heard  a 
young  player  boast  that  she  had  learned  so  many  pages  of 
Virgil  during  her  practice  of  finger  exercises.  "They  are 
just  da-da,  you  know, "she  said,  "and  of  course  I  never 
had  to  look,  so  I  used  to  put  my  book  before  me  and  learn 
Virgil  at  the  same  time."  Her  family  were  very  proud 
of  this  double  feat  of  study;  and  yet,  think  over  for  a  mo- 
ment what  is  the  intention  of  the  exercise.  No  doubt  it 


may  be  "just  da-da,  da-da,"  but  every  note  must  be  listen- 
ed to  by  the  player. 

A  pretty  story  is  told  of  Liszt,  the  great  pianist,  for 
whom  a  certain  young  lady  was  playing.  In  the  music 
occurred  a  passage  where  after  each  single  note  in  the 
scale  the  next  was  struck  twice.  The  young  girl  did  the 
passage  very  well,  but  Liszt  was  not  satisfied.  He  seated 
himself  at  the  piano  and  played  it  delicately  for  her. 
"See,"he  said,  "you  strike  this  C;  then  D  listens— says 
yes,  yes.  You  must  always  watch  for  what  the  notes  say 
to  each  other."  So  be  player  and  listener  as  well. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  use  of  the  digitarium,  or  dumb 
piano,  is  an  evil,  since  how  can  one  possibly  learn  tone 
from  it  ?  The  only  benefit  is  exercise  of  muscle,  but  gen- 
erally at  the  cost  of  what  is  called  touch,  for  one  never 
knows  quite  how  to  touch  if  sound  is  wanting. 

The  greatest  ends  in  music,  as  well  as  in  other  arts,  are 
arrived  at  by  the  simplest  means.  Show  your  fingers  how- 
to  fall  properly  on  the  notes,  and  how  to  move  from  one 
to  another,  and  you  can  hope  to  be  a  great  pianist. 


THE  PROFESSOR'S  RUBBERS. 

BY  DAVID  KER. 

"  rpELL  us  a  story,  Uncle  Dmitri,"  cried  three  tiny 

J_  voices  at  once,  as  two  little  Eussian  girls  and  a 
curly-headed  Russian  boy  clustered  around  their  uncle's 
arm-chair. 

Knowing  by  experience  that  the  request  would  be  grant- 
ed, the  rest  of  the  company  drew  closer,  and  General  Mi- 
lutine  began  as  follows  : 

"When  I  was  about  thirteen  I  used  to  go  to  school  at 
the  St.  Vladimir  Lyceum.  There  were  several  of  my 
chums  in  the  same  class,  and  a  wild  lot  they  were,  always 
in  some  scrape  or  other;  but  the  wildest  of  all  was  a  lad 
from  the  Lower  Volga.  We  used  to  call  him  '  Prokaz- 
nik'  [Madcap],  and  a  very  good  name  it  was,  for  he  couldn't 
he  happy  without  playing  some  mad  trick  or  other.  One 
evening  he  caught  the  Professor  of  History — a  crabbed  old 
fellow  who  was  always  scolding — asleep  in  his  chair,  and 
rubbed  his  bald  head  with  phosphorus,  and  when  the  poor 
old  gentleman  came  into  the  class-room,  half  an  hour 
later,  he  lighted  up  the  whole  place  like  an  Eastern  illu- 
mination, and  scared  some  of  the  smaller  boys  so  much 
that  they  ran  away  screaming. 

"On  one  occasion  it  was  the  old  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics at  the  Lyceum  who  became  Madcap's  victim. 
Among  the  Professor's  queer  ways — and  he  had  plenty  of 
them — was  his  custom  of  going  about,  winter  or  summer, 
wet  or  dry,  in  a  pair  of  enormous  rubbers,  whether  to 
save  his  boots  or  from  mere  force  of  habit  I  can't  say. 
Regularly  every  afternoon  he  took  oft'  his  rubbers  at  the 
door  of  the  class-room  before  going  in,  and  put  them  on 
again  when  he  came  out,  and  all  the  boys  knew  them  as 
well  as  they  knew  the  dome  of  the  Isaac  Cathedral. 

"  W'ell,  our  friend  Madcap  took  it  into  his  head  to  have 
some  fun  with  the  Professor's  rubbers.  One  afternoon  he 
contrived  to  come  up  just  as  the  Professor  had  gone  in, 
leaving  his  rubbers  outside  as  usual.  Madcap  pounced 
upon  them  at  once,  drove  a  nail  through  each  of  the  heels 
right  into  the  floor,  hid  the  hammer  in  a  corner,  and  walk- 
ed into  the  class-room  looking  as  innocent  as  could  be. 

"  You  may  fancy  the  poor  Professor's  dismay  when,  on 
slipping  his  feet  into  the  rubbers  and  trying  to  shuffle 
away  as  usual,  he  found  himself  rooted  to  the  ground,  and 
unable  to  stir  an  inch.  He  struggled,  twisted,  tugged, 
jumped,  and  at  last,  thinking  he  was  bewitched  or  struck 
with  paralysis,  he  began  to  shout  and  scream  till  the  whole 
place  rang.  Madcap  and  his  chum,  who  were  looking'  on 
from  the  stairs  above,  got  scared,  and  ran  to  help  him  ; 
but  just  then  the  Professor  gave  a  tremendous  tug,  and 
tore  one  of  his  rubbers  almost  in  two. 


MAY  1.  1883. 


HATCPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


411 


"When  the  boys  saw  the  old  man  look  troubled,  they 
began  to  think  that  he  might  not  be  able  to  afford  a  new 
pair,  and  they  at  once  repented  of  their  joke.  Out  rushed 
Madcap  to  a  store  round  the  corner,  bought  the  best  pair 
of  rubbers  in  it,  and  put  them  into  the  Professor's  hand  as 
he  came  slowly  and  sadly  down  the  steps;  and  there  were 
tears  in  the  poor  old  man's  eyes  as  he  took  them.  But  it 
didn't  end  there,  for  Madcap  had  a  friend  at  the  court  in 
the  shape  of  his  godmother,  the  Czar's  own  sister-in-law, 
and  through  her  influence  the  Professor  got  such  a  good 
appointment  that  I  don't  think  he'll  ever  have  to  wear 
worn-out  rubbers  again." 

"And  what's  become  of  him  now?"  asked  all  the  three 
children  at  once. 

"  His  Excellency  the  President  of  the  Imperial  Univer- 
sity !"  announced  a  servant  at  that  moment,  throwing  open 
the  drawing-room  door. 

In  came  a  tall,  line-looking  old  man  in  black,  so  erect  in 
figure,  so  firm  in  step,  and  with  such  a  clear  bright  eye 
that  it  required  the  evidence  of  his  snow-white  hair  and 
wrinkled  forehead  to  make  one  believe  that  he  had  really 
celebrated  his  eightieth  birthday  nearly  six  months  before. 

"  Ha.  Stefan  Yakowitch"*  (Stephen,  son  of  James),  cried 
General  Milutine,  springing  up  and  grasping  the  new-com- 
er's hand  heartily,  "  you've  come  exactly  at  the  right  mo- 
ment. Do  you  know,  I've  just  been  telling  our  friends 
here  how  you  had  your  rubbers  nailed  to  the  floor  by  a 
mischievous  young  student  at  the  St. Vladimir  Lyceum  a 
good  many  years  ago." 

"  What !''  cried  all  the  company,  with  one  voice,  "  was 
the  Professor — 

"  The  Professor  was  our  good  friend  President  M ," 

answered  the  General,  laughing,  "and  /  was  the  young 
Madcap." 

LET  GO  YOUR  ANCHOR; 

BY  FRANK   II.  CONVERSE. 

riiHE  new  ship  Texas,  all  ready  for  sea.  lay  at  one  of 
JL  the  large  wharves  on  the  Bath  side  of  the  Kennebec 
River.  She  expected  to  sail  on  the  following  morning 
for  Savannah,  at  which  port  she  was  to  load  with  cotton 
for  Liverpool,  England. 

Captain  John  Sears,  part  owner  of  the  Texas,  was  her 
commander,  but  in  the  eyes  of  his  son  Johnny,  aged 
twelve,  this  fact  was  not  of  nearly  so  much  importance  as 
that  he,  Johnny  Sears,  was  to  accompany  his  father  in 
the  ship  on  the  voyage  in  question. 

The  Captain  was  sitting  on  the  quarter-deck  enjoying 
his  after-supper  cigar.  Johnny  was  restlessly  roaming 
up  and  down  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  his  sharp  eyes  tak- 
ing in  everything  of  interest  about  the  ship.  Following 
closely  at  his  heels  was  a  handsome  English  mastiff,  which 
stood  very  nearly  three  feet  high,  with  tawny  hair,  a 
broad  chest,  and  handsome  head.  A  friend  to  be  desired 
was  Jack,  the  mastiff,  but  a  terrible  foe.  Jack  was  a  pup 
when  given  to  Captain  Sears.  Having  grown  to  his  pre- 
sent estate  on  shipboard,  he  might  literally  be  called  an 
old  sea-dog,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  mastiff  Jack 
and  the  boy  Johnny  were  great  friends. 

"  If  the  crew  do  come  in  the  morning  boat,  I  doubt  if 
we  get  away  to-morrow,"  remarked  Captain  Sears,  half 
aloud,  breaking  a  silence  of  some  minutes'  duration. 

Johnny  dropped  the  spokes  of  the  big  wheel  with  which 
in  imagi  nation  he  had  been  steering  the  ship  before  a 
heavy  gale  of  wind. 

"  Why  not,  father?"  he  asked,  with  a  distressed  face. 

"  Barometer  falling,  and  the  equinoctial  close  at  hand," 
was  the  brief  reply,  as,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigar, 
Captain  Sears  glanced  doubtfully  at  the  setting  sun,  which 
was  half  hidden  by  a  bank  of  dun-colored  cloud. 


*  The  usual  form  of  address  in  Russia. 


"  Telegram  for  you,  sir,"  said  a  small  boy,  who  had  just 
scrambled  aboard,  and  stood  looking  about  him  with  wide- 
open  eyes. 

Tearing  open  the  yellow  envelope,  Captain  Sears  read 
aloud  as  follows : 

"'Poim.AXD,  Of/oher  19, 187- 

'  Trouble  about  crew.      Come  on  at  once  in  5.30  train. 

" '  J.  JENKINSON.' 

"  And  it's  twenty  minutes  past  five  now,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, rather  crossly,  as  he  jerked  out  his  watch,  for  he  by 
no  means  liked  the  idea  of  leaving  the  ship  that  night. 
Both  his  officers  were  ashore,  as  also  were  the  cook  and 
steward.  All  of  them  had  families  in  the  vicinity,  with 
whom  they  were  spending  this  their  last  night  before 
sailing. 

"  Well,  there's  no  help  for  it,"  finally  remarked  the 
Captain,  with  a  sigh,  as,  slipping  into  the  cabin,  he  hastily 
changed  his  coat,  and  brushed  his  hair,  "so.  Johnny,  you 
must  look  out  for  the  ship  a  little  while.  I'll  call  at  Hor- 
tons'  on  my  way  to  the  depot,  and  have  them  send  down 
a  night-watchman  right  away.  Until  the  watchman 
comes  down,  don't  let  any  stranger  aboard.  I  shall  pro- 
bably be  home  in  the  morning  boat.  Good-night."  And 
swinging  himself  on  to  the  wharf,  Captain  Sears  rapidly 
made  his  way  up-town,  while  Johnny,  with  a  rather  dis- 
appointed look,  began  to  pace  the  main-deck  in  true  nau- 
tical style. 

A  repulsive-looking  man  who  bore  the  marks  of  a  tramp 
— and  a  sailor  tramp  at  that — rose  up  from  behind  a  lum- 
ber pile  near  the  edge  of  the  wharf,  and  shook  his  clinched 
left  fist  in  the  direction  taken  by  Captain  Sears.  His  left 
fist,  for  the  reason  that  his  right  arm  was  missing  just 
above  the  elbow. 

"I  thought  it  were  you,  Cap'n  Sears,  when  I  heard 
your  voice  whilst  I  was  layin'  round  here  yisterday,"  he 
growled,  savagely.  Then,  turning,  he  looked  thoughtful- 
ly up  at  the  ship's  side.  "Nobody  in  sight,"  he  muttered, 
"the  watchman  not  like  to  get  here  for  a  good  half-hour 
at  best,  and  only  a  slip  of  a  boy  aboard,  while  like  as  not 
old  Sears  has  left  some  money  or  wallyables  layin'  round 
his  state-room,  to  be  had  jest  for  the  takin'  of  'em.  It's 
wuth  runniii'  a  bit  of  resk  for,  anyway."  And  with 
another  glance  up  the  deserted  wharf,  the  tramp  began 
climbing  the  side  ladder,  using  the  stump  of  his  left  arm 
with  considerable  skill  to  help  him  in  his  ascent. 

Hearing  the  steps,  Johnny  turned  toward  the  gangway. 
A  greasy  slouch  hat,  whose  tattered  brim  partly  shaded 
the  wicked-looking  face  of  its  owner,  met  his  gaze. 

"Oh,  look  here  now,  I  say,  we  don't  allow  any  stran- 
gers aboard, "said  Johnny,  with  a  very  decided  shake  of 
the  head,  as  he  stopped  short  in  his  walk. 

"You'll  'low  the  watchman  what  Cap'n  Sears  had  sent 
down  from  Hort'ns'  aboard,  though,  won't  ye.  sonny  f 
was  the  cool  reply.  And  without  awaiting  further  re- 
monstrance the  intruder  drew  himself  over  the  rail  and 
stepped  down  on  deck. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  answered  Johnny,  slowly 
and  rather  doubtfully.  "Do  you  know  my  father — Cap'n 
Sears.  I  mean  ?" 

"Oh  yes,"  returned  the  man,  with  an  unpleasant 
smile.  "I  was  to  sea  with  yer  pa  once  in  the  ol'  ship 
Vanguard.  It  was  he  cut  off  this  here  arm,  owin'  to  an 
accident  that  happened  to  me  that  v'y'ge, "  he  continued, 
touching  the  stump  with  a  very  dirty  forefinger. 

This  interested  Johnny  at  once,  and  he  was  about  ask- 
ing the  particulars,  when,  rather  to  his  surprise,  the  sup- 
posed watchman  turned  on  his  heel  and  quietly  walked 
into  the  cabin. 

"Hi— I  say  there!"  cried  Johnny,  rushing  after  him, 
"my  father  don't  allow — 

But  poor  Johnny's  speech  was  brought  to  a  sudden  end. 
For  as  he  entered  the  cabin  he  was  caught  by  a  strong 


412 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


"THEUE    WAS    A    SWIFT    BATTLE    OF    CHAINS,  A    TREMENDOUS    SPLASH." 


arm,  and  dragged  toward  the  open  door  of  the  steward's 
pantry. 

"I'm  goin'  to  put  you  iu  solitary  confinement  for  a 
spell,  sonny,1'  grimly  remarked  his  captor,  as  Johnny  vain- 
ly kicked  and  struggled. 

All  at  once  there  came  to  the  frightened  boy's  mind  the 
remembrance  of  his  powerful  friend  Jack,  whom  he  had 
last  seen  asleep  on  the  quarter.  ' '  Jack — oh,  Jack !  here 
— come  here !"  he  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  There  was 
a  scuffling  sound  on  deck — a  noise  as  though  a  calf  were 
tumbling  down  the  after-companionway — and  through 
the  half -darkness  appeared  tin-  glowing  eyes  and  indistinct 
form  of  the  great  English  mastiff. 

Well  was  it  for  the  scoundrel  that  he  released  his  hold 
on  Johnny  in  time  for  the  boy  to  grasp  Jack's  steel  collar 
with  both  hands,  and  hold  him  back  by  force  and  voice. 

"Get  out  of  this,  quick,  or  he'll  tear  you  to  pieces," 
cried  Johnny,  excitedly,  while  Jack,  growling  fiercely, 
tugged  at  his  young  master's  restraining  grasp.  And  as 
Johnny  forcibly  though  inelegantly  represented  it  after- 
ward to  his  father,  the  man  "got."  Johnny  heard  him 
scrambling  over  the  rail  and  down  the  side  steps  at  an 
astonishing  rate  of  speed. 

"I  declare!"  Johnny  exclaimed,  with  a  gasp,  as  he 
released  Jack,  who  sprang  on  the  rail  and  watched  the 


Hying  man  through  the  gathering  dark- 
ness, "'Spose  Jack  hadn't  been  aboard! 
There's  over  five  hundred  dollars  in  fa- 
ther's desk  in  the  state-room.  Won't  I 
have  a  story  for  father  when  he  gvts 
back  in  the  morning,  though!"  he  add- 
ed, excitedly,  as,  lighting  a  lantern,  he 
hung  it  in  the  main  -  rigging,  noticing 
with  some  surprise  as  he  did  so  that  the 
wind  was  rising,  and  it  had  begun  to 
rain. 

Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  still  no 
watchman.  Captain  Sears  had  left  the 
message  with  the  Hortons'  clerk,  who  had 
forgotten  to  deliver  it ;  that  was  all .  And 
so,  wrapped  iu  his  oil-skins,  Johnny  paced 
the  wet  deck,  with  Jack  by  his  side,  while 
all  the  while  the  continually  increasing 
gale  piped  and  shrieked  through  the  rig- 
ging- 

By  midnight  it  was  blowing  harder 
than  ever,  and  Johnny  began  to  feel  very 
uneasy,  though  he  scarcely  knew  why. 
Ascending  to  the  quarter,  he  steadied  him- 
self by  the  mizzeii-rigging,  and  peered 
shoreward  through  the  thick  darkness. 
All  at  once  there  was  a  loud  twang,  and 
the  stem  hawser,  which  had  been  as  taut 
as  a  steel  bar,  slacked  suddenly,  and  fell 
with  a  plash  in  the  water.  Another 
similar  noise,  and  then  another,  and  still 
another. 

Rushing  frantically  to  the  top-gallant 
forecastle,  Johnny  saw  that  the  great 
ship's  hawsers  hung  helplessly  at  her 
side,  while  the  Texas  herself  was  swing- 
ing rapidly  out  into  the  river,  the  gale 
driving  off  shore  with  terrible  force. 

It  was  not  fear  of  personal  danger 
which  made  poor  Johnny,  as  he  stood 
half  paralyzed  for  a  moment,  cry,  "Oh, 
what  can  I — what  shall  I  do  '!'' 

It  was  the  remembrance  that  his  fa- 
ther's savings  of  twenty  years  were  in- 
vested in  the  Texas,  and  Johnny  had 
heard  him  say  that  he  knew  he  ought  to 
keep  his  share  insured,  but  he  could  not 
well  afford  it.  And  Johnny  well  knew 
that  a  collision  with  the  vessels  anchored  in  the  river,  or, 
still  worse,  striking  the  Hawkbill  ledges  on  the  other  side 
of  the  channel,  would  bring  a  heavy  bill  of  expense  to  the 
Texas'  owners. 

Now,  after  the  launching,  the  great  anchor  was  hove 
up  and  hung  by  the.  ring  stopper  at  the  cat-head,  ready  to 
let  go.  Johnny,  who  had  been  on  board  when  the  Te.rn.t 
was  launched,  had  watched  the  whole  operation  from  be- 
ginning to  end. 

"It's  all  I  can  do,"  said  Johnny,  aloud,  as  a  sudden 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind.  The  carpenter's  iron- 
headed  maul  lay  011  the  forecastle.  Seizing  it  with  fast- 
beating  heart,  Johnny  placed  one  foot  on  the  cat-head. 
and  with  a  strength  born  of  excitement  and  despair,  struck 
once,  twice,  thrice,  at  the  strong  iron  trigger  which,  when 
in  position,  confines  the  hauling  part  of  the  ring  stopper. 

There  was  a  swift  rattle  of  chains,  a  tremendous  splash, 
and  then  followed  the  grinding  rush  and  roar  of  the  great 
chain -cable  as  it  flew  through  the  hawse-hole  from  the 
ranges  under  the  forecastle.  Then  came  a  sudden  taut- 
ening of  the  cable,  and  lo!  the  Texas  was  safely  riding  at 
anchor  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 

"  I  guess  we'll  go  below  and  turn  in,  Jack,"  said  John- 
ny, with  a  great  yawn;  "  the  ship's  all  right  now."  And 
they  went. 


MAY  1,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


413 


"  What  did  the  man  mean  by  saying  that  you  amputa- 
ted his  arm.  father  ?"  asked  Johnny.  on  the  following  day, 
as  a  steam-tug  was  taking  the  Texas  swiftly  down  the 
river  toward  the  ocean. 

"He  was  the  ringleader  of  a  mutiny,  and  the  worst 
man  I  ever  had  in  a  crew,"  was  Captain  Sears's  answer, 
as  he  rested  his  hand  fondly  on  his  boy's  shoulder.  "He 
Hred  at  me  twice,  and  to  save  my  own  life  I  shot  him 
through  the  arm,  shattering  the  bone.  This  ended  the 
mutiny,  but  the  wound  would  not  heal,  and  if  I  had  not 
cut  off  his  arm  he  would  have  died.  He  made  a  great 
many  threats.. but  I  had  entirely  forgotten  that  such  a  man 


lived  until  I  heard  your  story.  By  cutting  the  hawsers 
he  hoped  to  do  me  a  great  injury,  and  would  have  accom- 
plished it,  only  my  twelve-year-old  son  was  too  quick- 
witted for  him." 

"Now,  father,''  exclaimed  Johnny,  ''Jack  deserves  ever 
so  much  more  praise  than  I  do."  But  I  don't  wonder 
that  Captain  Sears  is  proud  of  his  boy.  Do  you  ? 


NOTE. — This  story  is  founded  upon  an  event  that  actually  took  place. 
A  ship  went  adrift  from  a  wharf  in  Bath,  Maine,  in  an  equinoetial  gale, 
and  a  young  fellow,  the  only  one  on  board,  saved  her  from  going  ashore 
in  the  manner  described. — F.  H.  COXVKUSE. 


THE   PEACOCK   AND   THE   SEA. 
BY  WILL  CARLETON,  AUTHOR  OP  "FARM  BALLADS,"  "FARM  LEGENDS,"  ETC. 


A  PEACOCK  stood  by  the  sea. 
And  said,  "How  grand  'twould  1>< 
To  hike  ii   s;iil 
With   my   bright-eyed  tail 
A-strcaming  out  after  me! 

''I  should  then  the  credit  gain, 
With  my  long  glittering  train, 

To   lie  the   lii'st    one 

Of  peacocks  known 
To  have  navigated  the  main. 


"How  the  peacock  tribe  would  glare, 
And  scold  the  listening  air, 

To  see  me  afloat, 

Like  a  palace  boat, 
With  decorations  to  spare!" 

>;  }-- 


'       ,  1^,\  , 
1  i  ma  !<•:'  •  •  -  && '  ' 


I    -.'f"  f.,,ii>\i»W-<¥'±M'^?      • 

-"       '!'f-\  ''r'^'-?    gj^fy'* 

^St^-S^'"--    >' 


So  he  launched  him  on  the  sea; 
But  rods  he  had  not  sailed  three, 

Ere  water  lie  drank. 

And  soaked  and  sank. 
And  went  where  the  fishes  be. 


Three  limes  he  sank  and  rose. 
And  screamed  his  sudden   woes. 

Till  by  great  good  luck 

An  honest  duck 
c.-ime  .-iiid  hauled  him  out  by  the  toes. 


lie  lay  on  the  clean  sea  sand. 
Right  glad  to  have  come  to  land, 

And  heard  some  concise 

And  sound  advice. 
That  the  old  duck  had  on  hand: 

"If  you  would  keep  more  near 
Your  own  legitimate  sphere, 
It  seems  to  me 
You  would  happier  be. 
And  very  much  better  appear. 


"I  go,  you  understand, 
By  air,  and  sea,  and  laud; 

But  every  one 

Is  modestly  done. 
And  I  don't  lay  out  to  be  grand. 

The  peacock  rose  with  a  wail. 
And  combed  his  draggled  tail, 

And  slouched  away. 

With  a  sour  "Good-day": 
And  that  was  his  farewell  sail. 


414 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


4  CCORDING  to  promise,  the  final  report  of 
J\.  the  treasurer  of  the  fund  for  Young  People's 
Cot  is  given  this  week.  All  eyes  will  turn  eagerly 
to  that  column,  and  everybody  will  read  wilh  in- 
terest the  letter  from  Aunt  Edna,  who  is  the  lady, 
as  some  of  you  may  remember,  who  originally 
proposed  that  we  should  endow  this  Cot. 

I  hope  that  in  coming  days  you  will  not  forget 
the  child  who  is  to  occupy  it.  I  shall  go  and  see 
the  first  little  inmate,  and  tell  you  all  about  him 
or  her.  and  I  expeet  to  regard  that  child  always  as 
one  of  my  dearest  little  friends.  You  know  the 
Cot  in  Mini'  may  be  a  resting-place  for  many  lit- 
tle ones,  who  without  it  would  have  had  no  com- 
fortable bed  on  which  to  lie.  and  no  kind  care 
while  ill  and  suffering.  It  will  probably  never  lie 
without  an  occupant  who  shall  owe  happy  hours 
to  IlAitFEu's  YOUNG  PEOPLE  : 

NEW  Yor.K  CITY. 

MY  DEMI  LITTLE  FRIENDS.— Perhaps  some  of 
you  remember  my  telling  you  long  ago  about 
the  high  mountain  of  $3000  we  were  climbing, 
and  how  wlien  we  reached  the  top  we  wen-  all  to 
hurrah  !  Well.  I  am  both  glad  and  sorry  now  to 
tell  you  that  the  time  has  come  for  the  hurrah  ! 
and  a  hearty  one.  I  am  sure,  from  all  of  us.  our 
treasurer  tells  me  that  the  top  has  been  reached, 
the  ftSOOOwon.and  Young  People's  Cot  no  longer 
amon"  the  thing*  that  will  be,  but  is  really  our 
own;  and  the  br.iss  plate  that  is  put  over  each 
endowed  bed  is  now  in  its  place  over  ours,  with 
this  inscription : 


those  less  favored  and  happy  than  you  are.  and 
bringing  you,  perhaps,  slowly  but  surely  nearer 
to  that  dear  Saviour  who  gave  up  so  much  for 
us  all  that  His  love  might  bring  us  to  Himself. 
Be  sure  He  has  noted  and  helped  each  little  sac- 
rifice in  this  cause  truly  made  by  any  of  you. 
however  small  and  insignificant  it  may  have 
seemed  to  others. 

And  that  His  love  may  strengthen  you  in  all 
good  works  for  Him,  and  bless  you  now  and  all 
your  life  through,  is  the  good-by  of  your  friend 

AUNT  EDNA. 


YOUNO  PEOPLE'S  COT. 
Tin?  l.ivin"  wi.rk  of  the  renders  of 

l-lAiti-Kii's  Ynuxo  PKOPLK. 
"  Little  cliitilfen,  IUVK  one  aiwther." 

And  I  know  those  of  you  who  can  go  there  and 
read  it  will  never  regret  the  self-denial  you  had 
to  practice  to  be  among  the  contributors.  There 
may  be  some  of  you.  lint  not  m.iny,  who  are  won- 
dering where  the  money  all  came  from  so  sud- 
denly. I  say  not  many,  for  most  of  you  know 
that  a  fair  was  held  in  New  York  city  March  '.'S 
for  our  fund,  and  brought  in  the  large  sum  of 
$10rr  Nli.  and  though  you  can't  do  it  in  person, 
you  must  all  Thank  our  treasurer.  Miss  Fanshawe. 
for  this  great  addition  to  our  sum.  for  she  work- 
ed hard  to  m:ike  ihe  f.iir  successful.  Of  course 
she  had  some  help  from  others,  but  it  was  through 
her  efforts  entirely  that  it  was  carried  on  so 
well  through  many  discouragements.  1  want 
also  to  remind  you  that  thanks  are  due  to  this 
faithful  treasurer  for  the  good  care  she  has  taken 
of  your  money  all  this  time,  in  receiving  and  an- 
swering the  many  letters  sent,  and  looking  after 
various  things  c  mnected  with  the  work,  all  of 
which  she  cheerfully  attended  to. 

At  the  fair  were  more  beautiful  things  than  I 
can  begin  to  tell  you  about,  but  one  thing  I  saw 
there  I  must  tel!  you.  It  was  something  I  know 
you  would  all  have  liked  to  see,  but  it  was  not 
tor  s  Ue  :  it  was  nothing  less  than  our  good  Post- 
mistress, who.  to  show  her  interest  in  our  work, 
kindly  came  to  the  fair,  and  we  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  an  I  talking  to  her. 

As  I  have  before  told  you.  our  money,  while 
awaiting  its  completion,  has  been  in  the  Green- 
wich Savings-Hank,  and  the  interest  there  has 
amounted  to  $-.!7  ">4,  making  the  whole  amount 
to  be  handed  to  the  hospital  $3030  11.  This,  you 
see,  is  more  than  the  sum  needed  for  our  endow- 
ment fund.  Part  of  this  extra  amount  will  pay 
for  the  brass  tablet  at  the  head  of  the  Cot,  and 
the  remainder  will  go  to  some  of  the  many  needs 
of  the  hospital.  I  am  to  tell  you  that  any  con- 
tribution after  this. now  that  the  fund  is  closed, 
that  reaches  Miss  Fanshawe  without  an  address, 
and  so  leaves  her  without  any  means  of  return- 
ing it,  will  be  given  to  the  hospital,  wdiere  we 
know  good  use  will  be  made  of  it.  And  our 
treasurer  wants  me  also  to  say  to  you  that  she 
is  going  to  have  all  the  numbers  of  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE which  contain  the  Cot  acknowledgments 
since  July,  1HS1,  bound  and  given  to  the  hospital, 
keeping  a.  record  there,  you  see,  of  every  name 
that  lias  helped  on  the  work. 

When  I  began  my  letter  1  said  I  was  both  glad 
and  sorry  that  the  time  had  come  to  say  hurrah  ' 
Not  sorry,  by  any  means,  that  we  have  the  money 
—oh  no!  very  glad  on  that  point— but  sorry  that 
our  pleasant  acquaintance  of  nearly  two  years 
must  in  a  measure  break  off ;  not  altogether, 
though,  for  our  mutual  interest  in  the  Cot  will,  I 
think,  still  keep  us  friends.  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing how  many  of  the  little  children  who  have 
been  working  to  help  raise  the  $3000  have  real- 
ized that  they  were  working  for  something  else 
at  the  same  time,  something  that  will  outlast 
even  i  heiot  itself  i  I  mean  the  kind ,  unselfish  love 
that  you  ha  vi>  been  building  up  in  your  hearts, 
leading  you  to  deny  yourselves  that  you  may  help 


XORMAL  SCHOOL,  HAMPTON,  VIRGINIA. 

I  am  a  little  Indian  girl  and  twelve  years  old. 
I  thought  1  will  write  a  few  lines  to-day.  I  am 
at  Hampton  School.  And  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
a  little  of  my  home.  I  came  from  Dakota.  And 
the  name  of  the  city  is  Yankton  Agency,  well. 
1  live  in  Yankton.  I  like  it  very  much.  My  mo- 
ther and  my  father  are  living  and  two  little  sis- 
ters and  one  little  brother.  My  little  brother  was 
born  when  I  came  away  from  my  home.  I  am 
going  to  stay  here  three  years.  Sometimes  I  want 
to  go  home  and  sometimes  1  want  to  stay  here. 
I  like  my  home  very  much.  And  now  1  am  going 
to  tell  you  about  the  school  here.  I  go  to  school 
everyday.  Hike  to  go  to  school  very  much.  The 
Indian  girls  have  a  new  building  anil  we  named  it; 
we  call  it  Wiuona  Lodge  ;  it  is  a  very  nice  house 
indeed.  We  scrub  every  Saturday;  we  like  to 
scrub  the  floor.  We  have  a  large  Hull  to  play  in, 
and  every  week  we  scrub  it,  it  takes  about  eight 
girls  to  scrub  it.  When  we  all  begin  to  scrub 
we  nil  begin  to  sing  something  and  it  is  very  nice. 
We  like  toscrub  very  much,  the  girls  like  to  scrub 
very  much,  and  the"  teachers  like  t  too.  Every 
Saturday  we  always  scrub  the  house  clean.  And 
we  got  two  little  Indian  babys  here  at  the  school. 

Thev  are  very  nice  little  babys.    We  go  to  scl 1 

every  day:  we  go  to  school  in  the  morning  and 
we  have  sewing  school  in  the  afternoon.  Some 
of  the  girls  and  boys  go  to  school  in  the  after- 
noon, because  they  work  in  the  morning,  and 
some  of  them  go  in  the  morning.  1  go  in  the 
morning  school  and  I  work  in  the  afternoon. 
My  wash  day  is  on  Tuesdays,  and  I  iron  in  the 
afternoon;  wash  on  Tuesday  morning  and  iron 
on  Tuesday  afternoon.  Our  teacher  reads  us 
letters  out  of  HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I 
thought  I  will  write  one  too.  So  I  wrote,  this 
letter.  I  like  the  letters  that  our  teacher  reads 
very  much  indeed.  Dear  friends  1  can  not  write 
much.  From  a  little  girl  MKBOY  I.  C. 

The  Postmistress  is  very  much  pleased  with 
Mercy's  letter,  and  thinks  her  a  brave  and  good 
•irl. 


NKU-  YORK  CITV. 

I  have  no  brothers  or  sisters,  and  so  I  make 
friends  amongtbe  animals  ntCenlral  Park.  There 
is  a  very  gentle  bison  there;  her  name  is  Kate; 
ami  when  I  call  her  she  will  come  and  eat  cake 
or  crackers  right,  out  of  my  hand,  she  has  a  calf 
about  six  months  old.  and  it  is  nearly  as  big  as 
she  is.  The  fattier  died  last  winter;  his  name 
was  Big  Ben.  He  was  given  to  the  Park  Mena- 
gerie by  General  Custer.  He  was  an  in use 

fellow.  There  are  also  several  tine  camels  (one 
..  white),  and  a  beautiful  zebra  which  is  striped 
black  on  the  body  and  white  on  the  legs.  I  pre- 
fer these  animals  to  the  fierce  lions  and  tigers. 

I  go  to  the  Park  nearly  every  day  ;  sometimes 
to  the  academies  of  Art  and  Natural  History. 
At  the  former  place  are  many  rare  treasures  and 
pictures  and  a  fine  view  of  the  Obelisk.  At  the 
Academy  of  Natural  History  are  stuffed  birds 
and  animals  from  all  parts  of  the  world  and  cu- 
riosities from  savage  lands.  A  tine  gorilla  has 
been  lately  added;  he  is  a  dreadful-looking  fel- 
low. 

My  favorite  books  are  travels,  particularly  in 
Asia  and  Africa,.  My  favorite  study  is  geogra 
phy.  I  am  nearly  nine  years  old,  and  have  taker 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  a  year,  and  I  wish  you  could 
see  how  glad  I  am  when  it  arrives  on  Tuesdays. 
S.  II.  M.,  JUN.  (per  mammal. 


Hltl'\s\VICK,  MISSISSIPPI. 

I  send  "the  kind  Postmistress  a  few  violets, 
They  are  wild,  but  I  have  no  sweet  violets  to 
send.  My  teacher  grave  me  a  little  piece  of  ETOUTH 

in  her  irardtM).  and  I  took  a  part  of  it  for  flowers 
I  have  a  few  flower  and  vegetable  seeds  planted 
I  wrote  you  a  letter  during  tlie  overHo\v.  am 
was  very  elad  to  see  it  come  out  in  print,  ant 
h<  >pe  l  his  one  will  too. 

Suppose  little  Marion  calls  her  little  brother 
YViilti.n.  I  have  a  little  niece  named  Annie,  who 
is  very  cunnitur.  She  calls  me  Aunt  Maiiirie  ver 
Sweetly.  I  think  the  Little  Housekeepers'  Soci 
elv  is  vcrv  nice,  and  wisli  I  could  send  some  re 
eripts.  lint  I  know  of  mme.  unless  I  should  tel 
you  hnw  to  make  pecan  candy,  or  do  you  ;il 
know  how  ?  I  copied  some  n-ecjpi.s  from  YOUNG 
PHOPI.K  into  a  little  blank-book,  and  I  intend  try 
ing  tliem  wben  I  ^o  home.  I  board  witli  a  lad 
some  distance  below  papa. 

I  like  this  paper  very  miieh.  and  always  reat 
first  the  serials,  sind  then  The  letters.  A  irirl  ant 
I  go  horseback-rid  in  tr  nearly  every  day  fit  recess 
I  am  very  fond  of  riilinar  that  way.  and  in  sum 
mer  we  eo  horseback-riding  every  eveninjr. 
did  not  like  ray  middle  name,  so  a  lady  callei 
me  Daisy ;  so  I  ask  every  one  to  call  me  that,  bu 


nly  one  young  gentleman  will  do  so.  and  that  is 
iccause  lie  has  not  known  me  long,  and  had  not 
ot  used  to  calling  me  Maggie,  which  is  my  real 
jame.  I  am  thirteen  years  of  age.  I  hope  the 
Jostmistress  will  accept  my  violets.  DAISY  H. 

Daisy,  the  violets  were  very  beautiful,  and 
uite  fresh  when  they  arrived.  I  will  answer 
our  postscript  in  another  number  of  the  Post- 
iffice  Box.  Please  send  your  receipt  for  the  pe- 
;an  candy.  

MAY. 

Merry  May  has  come: 
From  the  hills  green  clad, 
From  the  silver  brooks. 
May  comes  bright  and  glad. 
Her  ways  are  winsome. 
Her  gay  sunshine  1  right; 
The  flowers  greet,  her, 
All  color  and  light. 

The  birds  sing  brightly, 
And  twitter  and  chirp 
Their  tidings  lightly  : 
May.  sweet  May,  is  come. 
April's  eyes  were  sad, 
Tired  with  weeping; 
May  is  always  glad  ; 
Seldom  April  smiled. 

But  we  loved  April, 
Her  weeping,  sweet  wiles, 
Tears  and  smiles  combined. 
May  kissed  away  tears.'then 
Came  with  all  the  smiles. 
Merry,  merry  May, 
Your  steps  betray  you; 
Flower-strewn  your  path, 
Gold  and  red  and  blue. 

Buttercups  golden, 
Red  for  the  clover, 
Blue  for  corn-flowers. 
Dainty  and  olden. 
Green  everywhere, 
Hill,  meadow,  and  wood. 
Darling,  merry  May, 
Thy  smiles  are  for  good  ! 


NBW  YORK. 


llKI.ENE   GnEANELLE. 


BUST  OAKS,  MISSISSIPPI 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  My  sister  Sa- 
rah Felix  subscribes  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  We  read 
it  together,  and  have  lots  of  fun  looking  at.  the 
pictures.  We  have  two  little  brothers  six  and 
seven  years  old.  They  are  so  mischievous,  but 
they  are  fond  of  their  kinsfolk. 

We  live  in  the  country,  and  have  rare  limes 
fishing  and  rabbit-hunting.  Our  dog  is  an  Irish 
setter,  and  is  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks.  \Ve  have 
a  baby  sister  named  Alice,  for  mamma.  Papa 
thinks  she  is  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
so  do  we  all.  I  guess  you  would  think  so  too  if 
yon  could  see  her  walk  and  hear  her  talk. 

Good-by  and  God  bless  you,  dear  Postmistress, 
and  all  the  young  people.  LUCII.E  B. 

P. S.— Papa  says  I  ought  to  add,  "And  God 
bless  all  the  old  folks  too."  L.  B. 

Thanks  for  the  letter,  dear,  and  the  wish,  which 
is  more  than  a  wish,  because  it  is  a  prayer. 


SAN  Luis  OBISPO. 

I  have  often  wished  to  write  to  you.  hut  feared 
you  received  more  letters  than  you  had  time  to 
read.  I  am  seven  years  old.  and  my  brothers 
have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  its  first  number. 
Now  it  comes  to  me  in  my  own  name.  Mamma 
reads  all  the  pretty  stories  and  letters  to  us.  and 
\ve  enjoy  them  very  much.  We  were  deeply  in- 
terested  in  the  sketches  of  the  lives  of  great  mu- 
sicians, and  hope  to  see  more  of  them.  We  have 
a  nice  saddle-horse:  her  name  is  Music.  She  is 
very  gentle,  and  I  enjoy  riding  very  much. 

This  is  a  pretty  town,  about  nine  miles  from 
the  coast,  and  at  this  season  the  hills  are  covered 
with  grass  and  beautiful  wild  flowers.  \\'c  have 
lemon  and  orange  trees  in  our  garden, which  bear 
fine  fruit.  There  are  many  Spanish  people  living 
here.  Before  going  to  school  1  help  my  brother 
feed  the  poultry,  and  after  school  I  play  with  my 
baby  sister  Fern.  I  do  not  study  after  dark,  as 
my  eyes  are  not  very  strong,  but  mamma  reads 
from' YOUNG  PEOPLE  or  St.  Nicholas  to  us.  and 
sometimes  a  chapter  from  Dickens's  Child'  ///*- 
tory  of  England.  My  favorite  book  is  BMiiam. 
Crusoe,  favorite  game  Authors.  My  pleasantest 
amusement  playing  soldiers  (I  have  a  fine  drum), 
and  my  favorite  motto,"  Always  speak  the  truth." 
I  have  four  brothers  and  three  sisters.  I  send 
you  my  best  love,  and  hope  if  you  ever  come  to 
California  you  will  be  sure  to  visit  your  little 
friend  SIDNEY  W.  S. 


GRRKNVILLK,  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 

I  have  not  been  taking  HAUi'Ea's  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
very  long  myself,  but  my  sister  took  it  two  years. 
so  you  will  see  it  is  an  old  friend  that  we  did  not 
like  to  part  with.  I  was  very  much  interested  in 
the  story  of  "Nan,"  and  was  sorry  when  it  end- 
ed. We  all  laugh  over  .jimmy  Brown's  tricks, 
and  I  would  like  to  know  if  there  is  a  real  Jimmy 
Brown.  We  all  enjoy  reading  the  letters  every 
week,  and  having  seen  very  fe\v  from  South  Car- 
olina,  I  thought  I  would  write,  as  a  letter  from 


MAY  i,  isss. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


415 


tliis  part  nf  the  country  might  IIP  interesting  to 
some  of  your  readers.  I  iini  a  little  girl  eleven 
years  old, and  live  in  the  suburbs  of  the  beautiful 
mountain  city  iif  Greenville,  with  a  splendid  view 
of  the  mountains  in  trout  of  our  home.  Although 
we  :ire  so  near  th<-  mountiiins,  our  climate,  I  -n:  - 
pose.  is  much  milder  than  yours. and  sprinjc  comes 
much  sooTn-r.  \\"e  have  a  number  of  Mower-  in 
bli  >orn  in  t  lie  open  ground  early  in  .Mare) I.  1  have 
four  pets.  Dot,  Partridge,  Polly,  anil  Brownie; 
three  an-  hens,  the  la-t  a  eat.  My  brother  lias  a 
Newfoundland  doc.  Hehadafunny  way  of  steal 
ing  the  hens'  eggs;  he  would  take  them  in  his 
mouth  and  take  them  out  in  the  yard,  and  then 
eat  i  In  in.  A  great  deal  <>t  cotton  is  plan! ed  here 
in  the  summer,  and  if  any  little  readers  of  your 
papi'i-  who  have  never  seen  it  growing  will  -i-inl 

me  their  addn^s  I   will  semi  them  son t   the 

blooms  and  the  bolls.  NANNIE  D. 


QtMNSIOAUOMD. 

Seeing  in  No.  175  that  you  wished  for  those 
who  made  pets  of  eliiekens  to  write  almnt  them. 
I  would  say  that  I  have  two  bantam  chicken-. 
rooster  ami  a  hen.  which  I  think  very  in-  eh  of; 
their  names  are  Dick  and  ilat.  My  sifter  al.-o 
has  a  h. n.  whose  name  is  Juliet,  whieli  is  now 
sin  ing  i  m  some  eggs.  Da  t.  my  hell,  has  l.i  id  "\  IT 
eight  \  live  eggs,  each  one  being  about  three-  times 
the  si/.e  of  a  n  'bin's  egg 

one  morning  last  winter  my  mamma  went  to 
the  door,  after  it  bad  been  snowing  hard  all  night, 

and    found    the    < p    Iliat    the    ChiokellS    Were    1" 

buried  in  the  snow.  My  brother  then  went  i.ut 
and  shovelled  the  snow  awav.  not  expecting  to 
linil  them  alive,  but  alter  a  while  he  found  them 
all  alive  anil  well. 

I  take  HAKI-F.K'S  YorvG  PKOIM.K.  and  do  not 
tliink  that  there  is  any  other  story  paper  thai  <  m 
surpass  it  M  sn:  S. 


R<I~TI'->.  M  t«-  -. 

I  send   a  receipt  for  making  cherry  bl> 
open  in  the  house,     (let  smne  nice  branches  ianv 
si/,e  you  please  i.  and  put  them  ill  water  I  hat   has 

In  it  fire  grains  of  nitrate  of  soda  to  every  qum'l 

of  water.  Add  one  grain  of  the  s:mie  i'\  en  da v 
n  mi!  the  flower!  i  it;  is  civer.  of  com--,'  I  he  \\ai<  r 
is  never  changed.  I  should  like  to  make  the  lol 
lowing  exchange  : 

To  an\r  'MM-  .-ending  nie  a  pair  of  tame  young 
crows  w'hiuh  are  heal  thy  andean  eat.  I  will  send  a 
pure  llramah  rooster  or  (mllet  after  July  1,  as 
it  would  n< '!  !"•  i  >M  eni  iiiL'h  before 

JVM:  DUDLEY.  2S  Studio  Building. 
110  Tremoiit  Street,  Boston,  Massacuusel  1 9. 


Write  again  by-and-by.— I.nu  C. :  Busy  boys  ought 
to  make  clever  men,— Isaac  \V. :  1  tliink  Cert  rude 
or  (.race  would  suit  the  little  sister.— Carrie  M.: 

You  \\  ill  enjoy  the  long  walk  to  -rhool  now  that 
the  -prim.'  ha-  eoine.  — Madeleine  \V.  I'.:  I  hope 
ching  and  Pepper  a gree.  '1'hat  \\asadearlittle 
picture  on  vour  not,  -| .a ; ier  I  am  glad  you  have 
a  park  fora  play  ground.— Haltie  II.:  Your  postal 
told  me  almost  as  much  as  a  letler.  Your  kitties 
have  very  pretty  names.—  Phil  M.  1. :  Your  wee 
si-ter  Mabel  mu-t  be  a  darling,  with  her  bright 
l  little  speeches. —  (•'red  ('.  I!. :  If  you  ever  again  tind 
your  coat  on  tire,  do  not  run  as  last  as  you  can. 
but  lie  down  and  roll  over-aiul  over  to  smother 
the  flame  If  1  were  you  I  would  be  careful. and 
not  gi  t  into  sin  h  a  predicament.  — I. illie  M.  (;.  :  I 
vv  -on  Id  like  to  hear  your  bird  sing,  and  still  i  a  on- 
to hear  you,  while  your  -i-ter  plays .—  II.  K.  :  So 
Dick  is  a  good  mouserr  That  is  a  good  quality 
for  Puss  —.liar)  ('.  P.:  How  sorry  I  am  for  that 

1 •  little   l.abv  '     Siillii-  W. :    I    think   botany  a 

delightful  study  myself.  —  Kiln  K.  W. :  Please  -end 
"ie  a  c-.n-d  telling'  me  whi-ther  you  coni]iose(l  the 
pretty  rhymes  about  Hanger  your  own  self,  or 
eojiieil  them  out  of  a  book.  lie  sure  to  do  this, 
dearie  I  ilna  II.  I,.:  Nancy  is  no  doubt  a  cun- 
ning cat ;  she  knows  her  little  mistress  will  not 
forget  to  feed  her-  Jimmy  Brown  is  \ ,  ry  mis. 
ehie\oii-;  but  then  you  little  folkr  encourage 
him  by  laughing  at  his  trick-  -Maude  I.:  Cher- 
r>  .  (.oldie,  and  Fiiskv  are  v<ii  nice  names  for 
Is  It.  \V.  A.:  What  a  shame  to  kill  the 
poor  chicken  with  the  funny  name  of  Lamey- 
Tamey  1 

The  Little  Housekeepers  arc  informed  tlmt  a 
number  of  excellent  receipts  will  be  published  in 
I    I',  i-t  -otliee  liuX. 


I'lTTSIILIMal,    1-K\\-Y!   VAM,. 

As  I  have  a  very  interesting  story  of  a  tun  10  to 
tell.  ]  thought  I  In-  readers  of  the  Cost  olliee  liox. 
esp.  rially  those  who  own  turtles,  would  like  to 
hear  it.  'My  lunle  was  lied  ill  the  yard  with  a 
strong  string.  The  turtle  remained  thfre  For  a 
few  ihi\s;  then,  to  my  surprise,  one  morning  I 
ton  ml  l  he  peg  gone.  and.  about  three  yards  from 
v-vlierc  it  had  been,  a  hole  in  the  ground.  Weeks 
went  by.  and  I  hail  almost  forgotten  about  the 
truant. When  I  heard  that  he  had  been  si-en  coin- 
ing out  of  a  hole  in  the  ground  in  a  neighbor's 
v  an  I.  about  one  furlong  from  on  r  house.  Do  von 
think  the  tunic  travelled  under  ground  all  the 
way  'i  Has  any  other  boy  had  similar  experience '; 

KKANK  1!.  II. 

Hands  up,  turtle-owners  :  Who  answers  Frank 
first  1  

CIIKI.TEN  HILLS.  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  tried  the  receipt  for  cream  almonds  which 

Amelia  Norris  K.  sent,  and  they  were  very  g I 

indeed.  We  found  some  hepatieas  and  a  little 
arbutus  in  the  woods  on  April  H.  and  one  anem- 
one bud,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  any  oilier 
flowers,  except  the  leaves.  ELLIE  K. 


MII.I  K.  J. :  Wee-Wee  and  Jink,  I  really  think, 
are  very  sweet  when  seed  they  eat,  but  that  dear 
calf  exceeds  by  half  all  other  pets.— Alice  A.  S. : 
You  must  teach  your  bird  to  come  to  you  when 
yon  call.  Did  you  think  you  were  forgotten,  my 
little  Cleveland  girl?— Bessie  V.  I).:  I  hope  the 
painting  lessons  go  on  bravely. — Artine  M. :  You 
will  very  readily  find  the  answers  to  your  ques- 
tions by  looking  into  your  school  history.  I  see 
that  you  are  a  studious  boy.  and  I  am  sure  von 
an- a  dear  helper  to  your  mother.— S.  51.  II.  :  I  ap- 
prove of  all  your  treasures, except  the  gun.— John 
T.  L. :  You  printed  your  letter  quite  nicely. — Clara 
II.:  Yours  is  a  good  letter  too.  I  am  so  glad  you 
are  safely  through  that  dreadful  thing,  the  scarlet 
fever  -Sarah  F.  U. :  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers 
will  furnish  covers  for  YOUNG  PEOPLE  on  receipt 
of  48  cents  by  mail,  and  any  book-binder  will  put 
them  on  for  you  at  a  small  expense.— Anna  0. : 
Your  writing  is  very  plain,  and  I  read  it  with  ease. 
No  wonder  you  like  your  pretty  Maltese  kitten.— 
A.  I!.  P. :  I  don't  quite  like  the  idea  of  bestowing 
so  heroic-  a  name  on  a  eat.  however  smart  he  may 
be. — M.  S.  II. :  Your  Easter  gifts  were  lovely.  I 
had  a  number  too. — Jennie  C.  J. :  I  liked  your 
dear  little  letter,  but  could  not  make  room  for  it. 


I'F.ol'I.F/s  COT. 

i '.  int  ribnt  ii  .11-  received  for  Young  People's  Cot 
in  Holy  Innocent's  Ward.  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospi- 
tal for  i  'hi M ren.  m;  U  ,  si  Thirty-fourth  Stn 

Florence  and  Alice  Peterson,  -'."i  :  .lame-  A.  Xel- 
son.  Urhano,  Ohio,  $1 ;  Helen  ;.nd  Margaret  Pair- 
n  -Miami. Oregon. $1  ."ill;  Faster  offering  t  n  m 
Horace  and  Jacob  I.a/.elle.  Fort  <  'raig.  New  Mex- 
ico. $•"' :  Faster  offering  from  Andrew  and  Jose- 
phine lleers,  ?.1:  Faster  offering  from  Willie  ni.l 
Allie  IVors.  $"»  :  Johnnie  F,  (.atenliv.  llrooklvii, 
50c.;  Josie  Chesley.  liclleville.  Texas.  $1  ;  "'in 
memory  of  a  little  boy  gone  home."  from  Mrs. 
K.  If.  itoe.  Kurt  ('uster.  Montana.  SKI:  Easter 
offering  from  Mi-s  Nelson's  Sunday-School  rl.i-s. 
chmvli  of  the  Trin-ligiiration.  New  York.  §4  M; 
i.eorgie  and  Frank  Uroek.  Live  Oak.  Fla  .  $1  ;  A. 
Mr\i,i.  st  :  Fa-trr  offering  from  the  children  of 
West  I'.erkcley.  Cal..  S'i :  Halph  s.  Potter.  I'.i- 
coag.  1!.  I..  'Hie.:  Mite  Chest.  Holy  Innocent's 
Ciiilil.  $:l  H:  liai-y  Mears.-J.V  :  Fannie. Johnnie, 
and  l.onise  t  'ook.  M.  >i  it  ague.  Mich  .  S'J  '.'.">  :  Da  \  id 
M.  Gregg.  Reading,  Penn.,  $2;  Ira  lieach  Nichols. 
Pleasant  Mountain.  Pi-mi..?!  :  I.  Morgan.  Fdninnd 
ami  su-ii-  Morgan.  IJiehanl  -on.  Shelby  (o.  Ky., 
SI  M:  Mary  I:  l.avely.  Pittsburgh.  IVnn  .  :,He  ; 

Louisa  M    \\'  .  l!l klyn.SI  :  Little  Friend.  Owen. 

Ohio,  a.-*-.:  licckie  I.,  (irass  Valley.  Cal.  :,(ie  ; 
din  i  eds  of  a  tair  held  in  New  York  March  -'s, 
$1077  Hi;;  interest  on  money  deposited  in  Green 
wich  Savings-Bank.  827  M:  total,  $110039;  pre- 
viously acknowledged.  SlSW)  7-!;  April  14,  1883, 
grand  total.  f.'UMI  II. 

E.  AUGUSTA  FANSHAWE,  Treasurer,  43  New  St. 


HI;-I<II,I  v.v.  NEW  YOKK. 

My  si-ter  Carrie  takes  II.\i;pE!t's  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE. My  mamma  has  told  me  about  Young  Peo- 
ple's Cot,  and  I  want  you  to  have  all  the  money 
out  of  my  bank  for  it.  lam  four  years  old. 

JOHNNIE  F.  GATENBV. 


PASCOAC.  RHI-HK    [-1  *M- 

I  have  read  about  the  Cot.  and  thought  that  I 
would  like  to  send  something.  Please  find  in- 
closed h'ftv  cents.  I  earned  it  myself.  I  am 
eleven  years  old.  KALFII  S.  POTTEU. 


PlTTSBL-RGH.  PENNSYLVANIA. 

lama  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  have  no  pets 
to  write  about,  except  my  two  sisters,  who  are 
younger  than  myself.  We  girls  made  a  paper, 


;nnl  railed  if  "Daisy  Petals  "  We  made  up  the 
stories  ourselves.  'Mamma  said  they  were  real 
good.  \\  e  all  enjoy  YOTNG  PEOPLE  very  much, 
and  have  had  it  ever  since  it  was  published.  I 
often  take  YOUNG  Pr.ori.E  to  school  on  Friday 
ami  read  in  it.  I  read  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  to 
grandpa,  who  is  sick. and  he  laughs  at  them.  I 
wrote  a  letter  to  >oii  once  before,  but  it  wa-  not. 
published.  1  hope  this  will  be.  I  send  you  tilty 
cents,  which  learned  myself,  for  the  Cot.  1  hope 
you  will  soon  have  enough  money  to  pay  for  it. 
MAKY  B.  LAV  I:I.Y. 


PUZZI.KS  FUOM  YiH'Nii  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

FIVE   VERY   EASY   SQUARES. 

1. — 1.  A  toy.     -J.  A  number.     3.  A  plaything. 

•J.— 1.  A  human  being.     2.  A  verb.     3.'  A  snare. 

3. — 1.  A  pla>  thing,  v'.  All  exclamation.  3.  A 
pronoun. 

4. — 1.  A  fastening.  2.  A  summer  luxury.  3.  A 
nickname. 

5. — 1.  A  number.    2.  To  increase.    3.  Fresh. 

liXCLLSIOll. 


No.  •-'. 

n    VI.    ENIGMA. 

I  am  a  proverb  familiar  to  every  one,  and  am 

composed  of  -JO  let  ters. 

My  I.-,'.  10.4.  I'-',  (i  is  a  reply. 
Mv    19,  B.  '.l  i-  a  part  of  the  body. 
My  la. -M.S.  11  is  an  clement. 
My  II.  \;.  v.i.  -1i.  8  is  a  tool. 
My  a.  Kt.  IS  is  an  in-i  i  l 
31  y  10,  7, 1, 17  is  an  ore. 


A.  T.  B. 


No.  .1. 

A    DIAMOND. 

1.  A  letter.  2.  A  pronoun.  3.  A  verb.  4.  A 
hov's  name.  5.  A  girl's  name.  0.  A  falsehood. 
7.  A  letter.  A.  T.  B. 


No.  4. 

GEOGItAPIIICAL  ACROSTIC. 

The  first  letters  of  the  words  in  the  answer 
read  downward  in  tin-  order  given  will  give  the 
name  ot  a  celebrated  navigator  of  the  lilteentli 
century. 

\l  \  In  -t  i-  a  eit  y  on  the  southern  coast  of  Spain. 

Mv  -' 'i-ond  is  a  eity  in  New   Fnglalid. 

M>  third  i-  a  city  which  mice  ruled  the  world. 

>ly  fourth  is  an  island  in  the  north. 

My  tilth  is  a  country  in  smith  western  Europe. 

My  sixth  is  a  State  in  the  I'nion. 

My  seventh  is  a  great  river  in  North  America. 

M  \  rii:  hi  h  Is  a  beautiful  cit)  in  Furope. 

M  v  ninth  is  a  river  in  New  York. 

My  tenth  is  one  of  the  great  lakes. 

My  eleventh  is  a  river  of  F'ranee. 

My  tweltth  is  an  isl I  in  the  West  Indies. 

My  thirteenth  i-  a  river  of  .Siberia. 

My  fourteenth  is  a  city  in  England. 

My  titteenth  is  a  range  of  mountains  which 
forms  a  1 ndarv  between  t  wo  count  ries. 

M  v  .-ixleent  h  is  one  ot  t  he  New  England  States. 

My  -r  vent  cent  h  is  a  city  in  Switzerland. 

My  eight  ecu  ill  is  a  country  in  South  America. 

.My  nineteenth  is  a  desert  in  Africa. 


No.  1. 


ANSWHKS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  180. 

W  T  S 

THE        LEA        APE 

WIIEATEARSPARE 

EAR        ARE         ERE 

T        S       E 
ORA    ATE    ORE 
T  R  A  P  S  T  O  N  E  K  O  D  E 
END    EDA 

EE 
ADD    EKR 


APE 

S 
TIE 


SIEVEDDIERROR 

EVE    DIE    ROD 

E        E        R 

No.  S.  B-oar.  boa-r.     F-ire.  fir-e.     Y-our,  you-r. 
M  ark.  mar-k.    D-one,  don-e. 
Theodore.    Crayon. 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 


SEE 
EEL 
ELM 


NAN 
A  I!  E 
NEW 


EDIT 
DORA 
IRIS 

TASK 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  John  F.  Little,  E.  Ebnslie  P..  Ernest  W., 
Fmelie  de  L.  Kennedy.  Lady  Luna.  Ray  F.  Hutch- 
iiisiui.  Henry  Chambers,  Fred  31..  (ieorgie  Trtimp- 
ler.  W.  Barker.  J.  I.  P..  Benjamin  J.  Allen,  Alice 
Cantine.  Charles  E.  and  Arthur  II. Timmerman, 
A.  M.  Bloomingdale.  Charles  H.  Weigh,  Jun.,  El- 
len M  F  .  Louise  Garlinghouse.  Chatty  Gleason, 
Will  Barker, Tommy M..Graeie Darby.  F.  U.  Wal- 
ton. Uncle  Tom.  Thomas  W.  chambliss.  W.  H. 
Smith.  Maud  s.  Nickerson.  Stella  A  very.  Maggie 
Dey.  Jack  and  Harry  Mason,  Milton  Thompson. 
Van  Allen.  Lottie  Marschalk.  Elsie  Deyo.  Arnold 
Sperry.  Emmeline  and  Eleanor  Bailey,  Daisj  Q., 
Wilhelm  Corliss,  P.  J.  D.,  and  Spy. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  2rf  and  3d  pages  of  cover.'] 


41G 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THREE    PLAYS. 

Arrange  these  twelve  squares  in  three  rows,  four  in  each  row,  in  such 
order  that  you  can  find  the  name  of  a  well-known  play  in  each  row. 


ACTING  ANIMALS. 

THE  public  has  always  taken  kindly  to  performing  animals. 
The  pleasure-seekers  of  Queen  Anne's  time  fully  apprecia- 
ted the  little  marmoset,  from  the  East  Indies,  that  danced  the 
Cheshire  Rounds  and  performed  several  ot  her  pretty  fancies,  and 
very  much  applauded  the  playing  horse,  which,  being  told  there 
was  a  warrant  come  to  press  him  into  the  service  of  the  French 
King,  fell  so  lame  he  could  hardly  set  one  foot  before  another. 
Upon  learning  he  must  go  if  alive,  he  threw  himself  down,  with 
his  legs  stretched  out  stiff  and  his  tongue  hanging  out  of  his 
mouth,  lying  as  if  he  was  dead.  But  when  this  remarkable 
animal  was  told  to  rise  and  serve  Queen  Anne,  be  jumped  on 
his  feet  and  became  "extraordinary  brisk  and  cheerful." 

Animal  performers,  be  their  parts  ever 
so  simple,  are  not  always  to  be  depended 
upon.  An  effect  never  dreamed  of  by  tin- 
composer  of  Tuiinliiiuser  was  produced  one 
night  at  Covent  Garden,  thanks  to  a  couple 
of  goats.  With  the,  first,  note  of  the,  goat- 
herd's song,  the  two  goats  tethered  to  the 
rock  began  to  bleat  most  piteously,  and  in 
her  own  interest.  Mademoiselle  Cottino  hast- 
ened to  set  them  free-.  One  made  a  hasty 
and  undignified  exit  :  but  the  other,  less 
bashful,  made  its  way  to  the  foot-lights, 

and  insisted  up lelivering  ilself  of  a  solo 

as  unmelodioiis  as  the  most  ardent  admirer 
of  the  music  of  the  future  could  hope  to 
hear. 

Determined  to  put  the  Forty  Tliirrcs  upon 
the  stage  in  as  realistic  a  manner  as  pos- 
sible, a  V  evada.  manager  provided  All  Baba 
with  a  real  live-  mule  to  carry  oft' the  pro- 
ceeds of  his  raid  on  the  robbers'  cave.  Either 
from  Lack  of  proper  instruction  or  from  the 
perversity  of  his  nature,  that  animal  be- 
haved so  badly  as  to  upset  the  entire  per- 
formance. No  sooner  was  he  on  the  stage 
than  he  put  his  fore-feet  down  firmly,  and 
kicked  as  only  a  mule  knows  how  to  do, 
sending  the  prompter  into  the  orchestra,  a 
small  boy  after  him,  and  every  member 
of  the  company  on  the  stage  at.  the  time 
otf  in  various  directions.  Having  the  stage 
to  himself,  he  exercised  his  heels  until  be 
had  kicked  the  cavern,  the  jars  of  oil,  and 
an  expanse  of  forest  far  into  space,  and  ut- 
terly wrecked  the  whole  scene.  That  mule's 


first  appearance  was  his  last,  although  the  spectators  were  so 
delighted  with  bis  spirited  performance  that  they  wanted 
him  to  take  a  benefit,  but  the  manager  declined  to  give  him 
a  night. 

A  parrot  lately  distinguished  itself  at  the  Denver  Opera- 
house,  the  manager  of  which  had  borrowed  it  from  a  restau- 
rant-keeper. During  the  first  act  of  Old  Shipmates  the  bird 
was  quiet,  enough,  but  as  soou  as  it  bad  become  accustomed 
to  its  novel  surroundings,  commenced  to  display  its  accom- 
plishments, to  the  amusement  of  the  audience  and  the  dismay 
of  the  actors.  "  Lamb  chops  or  breaded  veal  ?"  screamed  Toll, 
bringing  forth  a  loud  "  S-sh !"  to  which  the  bird  responded 
with,  ''Shut  up;  you  make  me  tired !"  "  Stop  eating  so  much  !" 
and  other  remarks  about  as  absurd.  All  actress  pushed  the 
cage  to  the  wings  of  the  stage,  to  be  seized  by  the  manager 
and  carried  to  the  property-room,  the  voice  of  the  indignant 
parrot  gradually  dying  away  in  the  distance,  until  the  slam- 
ming of  the  door  shut  it  out  altogether,  but  not  before  the 
offender  Poll  had  revenged  its  removal  by  nipping  the  captor 
in  the  leg.  A  little  later  the  manager  thus  addressed  his 
treasurer:  " Mr. Morse,  let  it  be  understood  once  for  all  that 
hereafter  no  living  wild  beasts  will  be  introduced  on  our 
stage." 

"SEE!  THE  CONQUERING  HERO  COMES"— 
TO  GRIEF! 

I'VE  a  pasteboard  helmet  upon  my  head. 

My  shield  is  a  smooth-planed  hoard  ; 
The  Star-spangled  Banner's  above  me  spread. 

And  look  ! — do  you  see  my  sword  f 
I'm  bold  as  St.  George  himself,  I  vow  ; 
I  wish  the  old  Dragon  would  come  just  now! 

Should  I  meet  with  a  giant,  a  robber  knight, 

Or  a  painted  Arrapahoe, 
I'd  strike  at  the  wretch  with  all  my  might, 

And  down  'neath  my  blade  he'd  go. 
Ha!  ha!  to  o'erthrow  him  and  lay  him  flat, 
He'd  need  but  one  blow  from  my  hand — like  that  f 

<  hv  !  ow  I      <>h  dear!  it's  gone  right  in 

To  the  bone,  I  do  declare  ; 
Who'd  ever  have,  thought  that  nasty  pin 

Was  stuck  in  the  table-cloth  there? 
Oh,  tlon't  it    hurt!  and   it's  bleeding,  too! 
Quick!   tie   it    up   for  me.  sister  Sue. 


,  /   -^5=?- 

' 

- 


WALKING    THE   FENCE. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANI1'  ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  184. 


l'i M.ISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  May  8,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HABPKR  it  BBUTUBBS. 


§1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


'"SEE!    THE   MEN   ARE   RUNNING   DOWN    TO   MEET   US.'"— SEE  STORY,  "DAN'S  SHIP,"  PAGE  420. 


418 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV- 


DAN'S  SHIP. 

BY  ELIOT  JIcCORMICK. 

"  Who  can  tell  what  coming  people  are  nbonrd  the  ships  that  may  be 
sailing  to  us  now  from  the  unknown  seas?" — DICKENS. 

I. 

"  "f  TTILL  you  please  show  me  the  way  to  the  steer- 

VV    age?" 

It  was  a  timid  little  voice  that  asked  the  question,  and 
an  anxious  little  face  that  looked  up  into  the  faces  of  the 
group  of  passengers  around  the  forward  eompanionway  of 
the  steamer  Sahara.  The  ship  had  just  weighed  anchor, 
and  was  slowly  steaming  down  the  river  Mersey  on  her 
passage  across  the  Atlantic.  It  was  a  chill  December 
afternoon,  and  most  of  the  passengers  had  already  gone 
below.  Among'  the  few  who  remained  on  deck  was  a  lit- 
tle girl,  hardly  more  than  eight  years  old,  who  did  not 
seem  to  have  any  one  with  her,  and  who  had  for  some 
time  been  glancing  shyly  at  her  fellow-travellers,  as  if  to 
invite  their  protection. 

"Will  you  please  show  me  the  way  to  the  steerage?" 
she  asked  again. 

A  kindly  looking  Woman  took  it  on  herself  to  speak. 

"Why,  to  be  sure,"  she  said;  "the  steerage  is  right 
down  these  stairs.  But  where's  your  mamma  ?"  she  ask- 
ed, curiously. 

The  tears  came  into  the  child's  eyes. 

"  My  mamma  is  dead,"  she  faltered. 

"You  poor  child!"  exclaimed  the  woman,  sympathetic- 
ally. "  But  who  takes  care  of  you  ?" 

The  little  girl  looked  up  woiideringly. 

"Why,  I  take  care  of  myself,"  she  said;  "I'm  all 
alone." 

"And  did  they  let  you  go  to  America  that  way  ?" 

;'  There  was  no  one  to  hinder,"  the  child  replied,  "and 
there  wasn't  anywhere  else  to  go.  Mamma  bought  my 
ticket  before  she  died.  If  she  hadn't  done  that  I  must 
have  gone  to  the  work -house." 

A  little  murmur  of  interest  went  through  the  group. 

"And  where  are  you  going,"  the  woman  asked,  "when 
you  get  to  the  States  ?" 

The  child  drew  aside  her  little  shawl. 

"There  it  is,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  piece  of  white 
muslin  that  was  sewed  to  her  dress;  "mamma  put  that 
there  before  she  died.  She  said  I  never  could  pronounce 
the  name  of  the  place,  and  so  she'd  write  it  down  for  me. 
The  trouble  is,"  she  added,  as  though  she  ought  to  apolo- 
gize for  not  being  able  to  pronounce  it,  "it's  got  eight  syl- 
lables, and  I  never  went  beyond  three  in  school." 

The  woman  bent  over  and  studied  the  placard. 

"What  does  it  say  ?"  some  one  asked. 

"Well,"  she  said,  after  a  moment,  "I  ain't  much  of  a 
scholar,  and  I  can't  read  the  name  of  the  place  any  more 
than  the  little  girl  can  herself.  It's  one  of  those  red  In- 
dian names  that  they  have  over  there.  But  the  child  is 
Myra  Church,  and  it  goes  on  to  ask  if  those  whom  she 
meets  will  do  a  kindness  to  a  dying  mother  by  helping 
her  on  her  long  journey.  Ay,  lass,"  she  exclaimed,  heart- 
ily, taking-  the  child's  hand  in  her  own,  "  we'll  do  that." 

The  people  who  stood  around  nodded  their  approval. 

"And  is  the  person  you're  going  to,"  the  woman  went 
on,  "any  of  your  kin  .'" 

"She's  my  mother's  cousin,"  the  child  explained. 
"There  was  nobody  else  to  take  me." 

"  And  does  your  cousin  know  you're  coming  ?" 

Myra  shook  her  head. 

' '  She  doesn't  know  anything  about  me  at  all,"  she  said ; 
"she  doesn't  even  know  that  mamma  is  dead.  There 
wasn't  time  to  write  a  letter.  I'm  afraid  she  won't  be 
very  glad  to  see  me,"  the  child  added,  pitifully.  "  I  wish 
there  was  some  other  place." 

The  woman  had  her  own  fears  about  the  warmth  of 
Myra's  welcome,  but  she  did  not  express  them. 


"Ah,  well!"  she  said,  consolingly,  "don't  borrow  trou- 
ble. I  dare  say  it  will  come  out  all  right.  Perhaps  some 
other  place  will  turn  up." 

Myra's  lip  quivered,  but  she  did  not  speak. 

"At  any  rate,"  the  woman  continued,  "you're  here, 
and  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  keep  on  until  you  come  to 
America.  It  won't  be  so  bad  when  you  once  get  started." 

The  ship  by  this  time  was  well  under  way;  the  shore 
was  rapidly  receding,  and  Myra  had  turned  to  look  over 
the  bow  in  the  direction  of  the  New  World  to  which  she 
was  going. 

"If  I  only  knew,"  she  murmured,  "  that  there  was  some 
one  who  wanted  me  on  the  other  side!'' 

The  woman  laid  her  large  hand  tenderly  on  the  frail 
little  arm. 

"Mind  this,  now,"  she  said:  "whether  your  cousin 
wauls  vou  or  not,  there's  many  another  who  would  be 
glad  to  have  a  little  girl  like  you.  Don't  fret  any  more 
about  it,  and  I'll  find  you  a  place  near  mine  to  sleep." 

Myra  followed  her  new  friend  below,  a  good  deal  en- 
couraged by  the  woman's  cheering  words.  The  other 
people  in  the  steerage  received  her  quite  as  cordially,  and 
before  long  the  little  girl  was  very  much  at  home  in  her 
narrow  and  dimly  lighted  quarters.  Fortunately,  though 
the  sea  grew  rough  and  the  weather  became  stormy, 
she  did  not  get  sick ;  and  while  she  could  not  go  much  on 
deck,  she  did  not  want  for  company  in  the  steerage. 

As  the  voyage  continued,  the  storms  grew  worse;  tin- 
wind  kept  dead  ahead,  blowing  almost  a  gale;  and  on  the 
twelfth  day  out  the  Captain  calculated  that  they  were  still 
four  hundred  miles  from  Boston.  For  three  days,  how- 
ever, he  had  not  been  able  to  take  an  observation,  the  sky 
was  still  dark  and  threatening,  and  he  was  not  quite  cer- 
tain of  his  whereabouts.  Indeed,  he  might  be  nearer  the 
coast  than  he  supposed.  The  passengers,  on  their  part, 
were  confidently  planning  to  take  their  next  day's  dinner 
on  shore.  "You'll  eat  dinner  with  us,  Myra,"  one  and 
another  bad  said ;  "you  can  bide  over  the  day  before  you 
start  on  your  journey." 

But  Myra  was  less  confident  than  they. 

"Do  you  think  we'll  get  in  to-morrow  f  she  asked,  that 
evening,  in  response  to  one  of  their  invitations.  "Do 
you  suppose  the  Captain  knows  where  we  are  ?  Ah !"  she 
cried,  as  the  wind  came  with  a  sudden  howl  down  the 
open  eompanionway.  "  listen  to  the  wind.  Has  it  blown 
like  that  before  ?" 

Her  fears  might  have  been  caught  by  the  others  had 
not.  one  of  the  men  broke  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"A  thousand  times,"  he  cried.  "The  ship  has  been 
through  it  over  and  over  again.  Go  to  bed,  little  one. 
and  to-morrow  you'll  be  safe  in  America." 

Myra  was  not  wholly  satisfied,  but  she  went  to  bed,  and 
her  alarm  did  not  prevent  her  falling  sound  asleep.  In 
a  little  while  most  of  the  passengers  had  followed  her  ex- 
ample, and  presently,  but  for  the  creaking  of  the  ship  and 
the  roar  of  the  wind,  the  steerage  was  still. 

While  they  slept,  a  sudden  shock  made  the  vessel  quiv- 
er from  end  to  end.  A  dull  grating  noise  followed,  as 
though  the  keel  were  dragging  over  rocks;  then  the  en- 
gines stopped  for  the  first  time  in  thirteen  days,  and  the. 
vessel  swayed  upon  its  side.  At  the  same  time  the  noise 
of  loud  outcries  and  of  hurried  tramping  on  the  deck 
above  told  those  who  were  waked  up  that  some  calamity 
had  happened.  Bewildered  and  terror-stricken,  the  peo- 
ple poured  out  of  their  berths,  while  the  man  who  had 
encouraged  them  only  an  hour  before,  and  who  had  been 
the  first  to  mount  the  stairs,  called  hoarsely  down  the. 
eompanionway,  "All  hands  on  deck!  the  ship  has  struck 
a  rock!" 

II. 

Hardly  any  house  could  occupy  a  more  exposed  place 
than  the  little  cottage  in  which  Dan  Roberts  lived  with 
his  father  and  mother.  It  stood  on  the  top  of  Indian 


MAY  8,  1883. 


IIAEPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


419 


Head,  a  bold  peak  jutting  out  into  the  ocean,  and  be- 
sides the  light-house  and  the  life-saving  station  on  the 
beach  below,  it  was  the  only  house  within  two  miles. 
Though  it  was  so  solitary,  and  though  the  wind  often 
threatened  to  blow  it  away,  and  the  waves  sometimes 
lashed  its  strong  foundations,  Dan  was  fond  of  his  home, 
and  would  not  exchange  it  for  any  other  that  he  knew  of 
in  the  world.  It  was  a  saddened  home  at  this  season  of 
the  year,  for  just  twelve  months  ago  Dan  s  little  sister 
Lucy  had  been  taken  away.  To-morrow  would  he  the 
anniversary  of  her  death,  and  Dan  recalled  with  pain  how 
empty  the  house  had  seemed  when  they  came  back  from 
the  distant  grave  yard,  and  how  empty,  indeed,  it  had 
been  ever  since. 

Dan's  father  was  on  the  life-saving  service,  and  Dan 
himself  expected  to  lake  up  the  hardy  and  perilous  work 
when  he  should  be  a  little,  older.  The  sea  had  a  fascina- 
tion for  him.  and  there  was  nothing  that  lie  enjoscd  more 
than  to  watch  it  tossing  in  the  fury  of  ;i  storm,  or  gently 
bearing  on  its  unrullled  surface  the  while  winged  ships. 
He  was  an  imaginative  boy.  and,  looking  sea \\arel.  he  used 
to  wonder,  without  knowing  that  a  great  writer  had  ex- 
pressed th<-  same  thought,  whether  among  all  the  ships 
there  might  not  be  one  from  over  the  unknown  seas  com- 
ing to  himself.  What  would  it  bring  him  '.  he  wondered, 
as  lie  stood  down  by  the  life  saving  station  and  looked 
out  on  the  angry  scene.  Would  it  come  on  a  u  ild.  stormy 
night  like  this,  or  when  the  sea  was  calm  and  the  sky  clear  .' 
Most  likely,  if  it  came  at  all.  it  would  be  in  a  storm,  for  few 
ships  sailed  nowadays  into  Winter  Harbor,  though  it  had 
Once  been  a,  great  port,  and  man\  were  \\n-cke-d  on  Hang- 
man's Reef,  whose  low  black  surface  lay  above  the  water 
a  quarter  of  u  mile  away,  .lust  now.  however.  Dan  could 
see  neither  ships  nor  reef  through  the  darkness  of  the 
night. 

The  two  patrolmen,  one  of  whom  was  1  >an's  father,  had 
some  time  since  started  on  their  respective  heats  up  and 
down  the  beach;  the  live  other  men  were  asleep  upstairs, 
and  Dan  was  all  alone.  I  le  was  just  thinking  of  going  up 
to  the  cottage  and  turning  in,  when  suddenly  out  of  the 
darkness,  above  the  dm  of  the  waves,  boomed  a  gun.  At 
the  same  moment  a  llaring  light,  shot  up  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  reef,  plainly  showing  through  the  night  the  out- 
line of  a  stranded  vessel.  Dan  rushed  into  the-  house  and 
bounded  upstairs. 

"A  wreck!"  he  cried,  waking  up  the-  sleepers  —"a  wreck  ! 
There's  a  ship  on  the  reef!" 

The  men  sprang  out  of  bed  and  jumped  into  their 
clothes,  while  Dan  rushed  down  again,  and  lighting  a 
signal,  waved  it  over  his  head  in  response  to  the  lights 
of  the  vessel,  which  were  still  burning.  Meanwhile  Mr. 
Roberts,  further  down  the  shore',  was  answering  them 
with  his  own  torch.  A  single  glance  when  the  men  came- 
down  showed  them  that  the,  surf-boat  could  not  he  launch- 
ed, and  that  they  must  depend  on  the  life-line.  In  live 
minutes  they  had  run  the-  heavy  apparatus  out  of  the  build- 
ni!j.  and  were  dragging  it  through  the  sand  to  a  point  op- 
posite the  position  of  the  ship.  Half-way  there  they  met 
Mr.  Roberts  coining  toward  them,  and  with  his  help  they 
were  soon  at  the  spot.  So  far  no  time  had  been  lost.  It 
was  important,  indeed,  that  none  should  be  lost.  Looking 
through  the  night-glass  as  the  blue-lights  made-  the  ship 
visible,  they  could  sec-  it  rising  and  falling  on  the  rocks  at 
every  break  of  the  waves.  With  such  pounding  it  could 
not  last  long.  It  was  a.  great  steamer,  and  the  crowd  of 
people  whose  anxious  faces  they  could  see  gazing  over  the 
bulwarks  warned  the  surfmen  of  the  seriousness  of  the 
work  that  lay  before  them. 

To  train  the  gun  and  send  the  life-line  flying  over  the 
steamer's  deck  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  It.  fell,  as 
they  could  see.  a  little  aft  of  the  foremast,  and  presently 
the  great  hawser  on  which  the  buoy  was  to  run  had  been 
drawn  on  board,  and  safely  secured  to  the  mast.  Then 


the  whip-lines  by  which  the  buoy  was  to  be  pulled  were 
attached,  the-  buoy  itself  was  hung,  and  everything  was 
ready.  An  anxious  crowd  on  the  ship  and  another  on 
the  beach  watched  its  approach  to  the  wreck,  and  then  its 
return  to  shore.  When  it  came  back  it  contained  two 
men.  who  told  the  Captain  of  the  surf  crew  briefly  that 
the  vessel  was  the  steamer  S<i/t<ir/t,  bound  from  Liverpool 
to  Boston,  with  one  hundred  emigrants  and  twenty  cabin 
passengers  <>n  hoard.  The  women,  they  said,  would  be 
sent  next.  The:  car  was  then  run  out  again,  and  on  its 
return  brought  one  woman  and  achild,  who  were  prompt- 
ly hurried,  under  Dan's  charge,  to  Mr.  Roberts's  cottage. 
Meanwhile  a  large  bonlire  had  been  made,  over  which 
the  rescued  persons  as  they  arrived  dried  themselves. 
When  Dan  came  back  a  large-  number  had  been  brought 
ashore-,  and  it  was  not  long  before  all  the-  passengers  were 
landed,  and  the  sailors  began  to  arrive.  At  this  spectacle 
a  woman  who  had  come  in  the  third  trip  of  the  buoy,  and 
refused  to  go  up  to  the  house,  and  who  had  anxiously 
watched  each  load  as  it  came  in,  laid  her  hand  on  Dan's 
sleeve. 

"  Have  you  seen  a  little  girl  come  ashore-  ;"  she  asked — 
"  a  fair  haired  little-  girl  with  blue-  e-ves  .'" 

Dan  shook  his  head. 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  but  the  one  I  took  up  to  the-  bouse-," 
lie- said,  "and  she-  had  black  hair;  but  I'll  ask  my  father. 
Say,  father,"  he  called  out,  "have  you  seen  this  lady's  lit- 
tle-girl .'" 

I  hs  father,  who  was  busy  with  the'  line-,  shook  his  head. 

"Only  three-  little-  girls  came  ashore."  he-  said,  "and 
the\  \\  ere-  with  their  mothers." 

"  Yes, "said  the-  woman,  nervously.  "  I  saw  them:  they 
we-ren  t  mine-.  This  isn't  mine-,  either,"  she-  explained. 
"The  poor  little  thing  is  all  alone;  but  she  slept  near  to 
me,  and  I  ought  to  have  looked  out  for  her.  But  I  was  so 
frightened  1  ran  up  on  deck  the  lii-st  thing,  and  then  they 
made-  me-  come  oil'  the-  third  trip." 

"Oh,  well, "said  Dan,  encouragingly,  "somebody  else 
will  have  found  he-r.  She'll  come  along  one  of  these 
trips." 

But  she-  did  not.  Time-  afle-r  time-  the  buoy  came-  in 
without  the-  child  ;  and  at  le-ngl  h.  quite  unexpectedly,  when 
it.  was  pulled  in,  out  slepped  the-  Captain  of  the-  ship.  He 
took  the-  keeper  of  the-  station  by  the  hand. 

"We  owe  \ou  our  lives.  Captain."  he  said,  warmly. 
"The  old  ship  can't  hold  out  ten  minutes  longer.  But 
there-  isn't  a  soul  left  on  board." 

The  woman  rushed  forward  with  a  loud  cry. 

"Oh,  t  he-re-  is!  (he-re-  is!"  she  exclaimed;  "there's  a  child 
asleep  in  the-  sle-erage." 

The  surfmen  looked  at  one  another  in  dismayed  sur- 
prise. 

"Who  is  it  .'"  angrily  demanded  the  Captain  of  the-  ship. 

"  It's  the-  little-  girl  that  came  on  hoard  alone,  sir;  little 
Myra  Church." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  more,  the  keeper  turned  to  his 
men. 

"Men!''  he  cried,  "  the  ship  is  breaking  up;  it  may  not 
last  ten  minutes.  But  t  he-re's  a  child  on  board  asleep. 
Will  any  one  go  out  in  the  buoy  and  bring  her  oil'  ?" 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitation,  while  each  man 
weighed  the  perilous  service  in  his  mind.  Then  Dan's 
father  stepped  out,  while  at  the  same  moment  Dan  him- 
self pushed  forward  into  the  waiting  circle.  His  hand 
some  face  burned  with  an  excited  glow,  and  his  dark  eyes 
were  lit  with  the  fire  of  courage. 

"I'll  go,  sir!"  he  cried.  "Father,  you  know  I've  got  to 
do  it  some  time;  let  me  go  now.  It's  my  place,"  he  went 
on,  hurriedly;  "I  saw  the  ship  first,  and  I  can  be  better 
spared  than  you.  anyhow." 

While  Mr.  Roberts  hesitated,  painfully  uncertain  wheth- 
er he  should  let  the  boy  have  his  own  way,  the  keeper  de- 
cided the  question. 


420 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    LITTLE    MUSICIANS. 

"All  right,  Dan, "he  said;  "you  shall  go.  Hurry  up, 
now!  there  isn't  any  time  to  lose." 

Dan  wrung  his  father's  hand  and  jumped  into  the  buoy. 
Urged  by  the  surfmen's  strong  pull,  it  shot  out  into  the 
darkness,  and  in  a  moment  Dan  had  left  the  crowd,  the 
fire-light,  and  the  land  behind.  Only  the  creaking  of  the 
pulley  over  his  head  and  the  roar  of  the  waves  beneath 
kept  him  company  as  he  made  the  solitary  and  perilous 
trip. 

III. 

When  Dan  at  length  had  reached  the  vessel  and  climbed 
out  of  the  buoy  upon  the  wave-washed  deck,  he  hurried 
down  the  forward  companionway,  lighted  by  the  lantern 
which  he  had  taken  the  precaution  to  carry,  into  the  steer- 
age. Myra's  berth,  the  woman  had  told  him,  was  well 
forward  011  the  port  side.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  finding 
it.  The  little  fair  head  rested  on  the  pillow  as  quietly  as 
his  sister  Lucy's  had  ever  done  in  her  bed  at  the  cottage, 
and  as  though  no  storms  were  threatening  every  minute 
to  break  the  ship  in  pieces.  With  the  first  rays  of  the 
lantern,  however,  falling  on  her  face,  the  child  woke  up. 
"What  is  it?"  she  cried,  raising  herself  on  one  arm,  and 
looking  up  into  Dan's  face  with  an  expression  of  alarm. 
"  Where  are  all  the  people  ?" 

He  took  down  a  large  shawl  from  the  peg  on  which  it 
hung. 

"The  ship  is  wrecked,"  he  said,  quietly,  "and  I've  come 
to  carry  you  ashore,  where  all  the  people  have  gone." 

Her  face,  flushed  with  her  sleep,  suddenly  grew  pale. 
She  had  heard  of  shipwrecks  from  the  others,  and  knew 
what  they  meant. 

"Now  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "now  ;  there  isn't  any  time  to  lose. 


Let  me  put  this  shawl  around  you,  and  you'll 
be  as  warm  as  though  you  were  all  dressed." 

He  wrapped  her  from  head  to  foot  in  the 
shawl,  and  then  took  her  up  in  his  arms.  He 
could  hear  the  quick  beatings  of  the  little  heart, 
but  she  made  no  sign  of  fear,  and  clasped  her 
arm  tightly  around  his  neck,  as  he  told  her  to 
do.  when  they  went  up  the  steep  and  slanting 
stair.  In  a  moment  more  he  had  crossed  the 
slippery  deck,  mounted  the  bulwarks,  and  seat- 
ed himself  in  the  buoy. 

"  Are  you  all  right,  little  one  ?"  he  asked. 
"  Are  you  sure  it's  safe  ?"  she  whispered. 
He  laughed,  though  his  heart  was  filled  with 
a  hundred  fears. 

"  Oh,  the  buoy  is  safe  enough,"  he  said. 
With  the  words  he  flashed  a  signal  which  he 
took  from  his  belt.  Presently  the  car  began 
to  move  down  the  incline  which  the  hawser 
made  from  the  ship  with  increasing  speed  to- 
ward the  fire  that  glowed  and  flickered  in  the 
distance.  Would  the  ship  hold  out,  he  won- 
dered, until  they  should  reach  the  shore  ?  Un- 
derneath them  beat  and  roared  the  sea,  dashing 
its  spray  up  into  their  faces;  and  once  a  great 
•wave  broke  over  the  buoy,  drenching  them 
through  and  through.  Myra  struggled  to  re- 
cover her  breath. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "won't  we  be  drowned  ?" 
Dan  drew  her  closer  to  himself.     It  was  now 
only  a  minute  longer,  and  the  car  was  moving 
with  great  swiftness.    But  how  it  seemed  to  drag ! 
' '  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  declared.     "  See !  we  are 
almost  there." 

Myra  peered  out  through  the  shawl.     There, 
only  a  few  rods  ahead,  blazed  the  great  fire. 
In  another  moment  they  would  reach  it.     But 
while  she  strained  her  eyes  as  if  to  bring  the 
fire  nearer,  the  hawser  over  their  heads  sudden- 
ly tightened,  drawing  the   buoy   upward,  and 
holding  it  for  an  instant  motionless   in  the  air.      "Oh, 
what  is  the  matter  !"  cried  Myra.     But  Dan  did  not  speak. 
He  knew  that  the  vessel  was  breaking  up.     Barely  a  mo- 
ment of  safety,  indeed,  remained.      With  a  hasty  move- 
ment he  opened  the  knife  which  hung  from  his  neck,  and 
cut  the  four  ropes  by  which  the  buoy  was  suspended  from 
the  hawser.      Before   Myra  could  understand  what  had 
happened,  the  hawser,  torn  by  the  sinking  ship  from  its 
anchorage  in   the   sand,  had  gone  spinning  out  to  sea, 
while  the  buoy  was  tossing  on  top  of  the  angry  waves. 

"Keep  tight  hold  of  me!"  cried  Dan,  struggling  for 
breath,  as  the  sea  threatened  to  swallow  them  up.  "  Don't 
open  your  mouth,"  he  gasped.  "It  will  only  be  for  a  min- 
ute, and  the  buoy  will  float  us  in  to  shore."  He  held  the 
little  figure  with  a  grasp  that  even  the  fury  of  the  waves 
could  not  loosen,  though  they  lashed  the  buoy  and  its 
freight  with  almost  resistless  force. 

"Won't  we  be  drowned  ?"  the  little  girl  murmured, 
between  the  breaking  of  two  waves. 

"No  indeed  !"  he  cried,  pointing  to  the  shore.  "See! 
the  men  are  running  down  to  meet  us." 

She  raised  her  pale  and  frightened  face  from  his  shoul- 
der and  looked  out.  They  were  already  riding  the  crest 
of  a  wave  that  promised  to  land  them  within  the  men's 
reach.  Swiftly  it  bore  them  on,  and  when  at  length  it 
threw  them  on  the  beach  they  were  grasped  by  strong- 
hands  and  drawn  safely  out  of  the  threatening  clutch  of 
the  under-tow.  Drenched  to  the  skin,  stiff,  and  lame,  but 
with  no  bones  broken,  Dan  stepped  out  of  the  buoy,  and 
was  folded,  with  his  light  burden,  in  Mr.  Roberts's  capa- 
cious embrace. 

"There!"  the  father  exclaimed,  while  surfmeu,  sailors, 
and  passengers  crowded  around  to  offer  their  cougratula- 


MAY  8,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


421 


tions,  "take  her  up  to  your  mother,  Dan.  Or  are  you  too 
tired  to  carry  her  any  further  ?  Perhaps  you  had  better 
let  one  of  the  men  take  her." 

But  Dan  shook  his  head,  while  Myra  clung  the  more 
closely  to  him. 

"No,  sir,"  he  said;  "she  isn't  heavy.  I'd  rather  take 
her  myself." 

"Very  well, "said  his  father,  looking  compassionately 
in  the  child's  white  face.  "Poor  little  thing!  she  looks 
like  our  Lucy." 

Dan  started  up  the  shore,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  no- 
thing was  said. 

"  Did  the  ship  go  down  ?"  she  asked  at  length. 

Dan  nodded.      "Yes,"  he  said,  "when  I  cut  the  ropes." 

She  looked  down  at  him  in  an  awe-struck  way.  "  And 
just  to  think!"  she  exclaimed.  "If  you  hadn't  come  I 
should  have  been  drowned.  I  wish  I  might  stay  with 
you  always,"  she  added,  impulsively. 

Dan's  heart  thrilled.  Why  might  not  this  little  girl 
replace  the  sister  who  had  been  taken  away  '. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  ;"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  the  place," she  said ;  "nobody  could 
pronounce     it  :      it 
was  written  on  my 
dress." 

"And  where  is 
the  dress?" 

"Why,  I  left  it  on 
the  ship,  of  course." 

Dan  drew  a  long 
breath.  "  And  is 
that  all  you  know 
about  it  ?  Haven't 
you  got  it  written 
anywhere  else?" 

She  shook  her 
head.  "No,"  she 
said,  positively,  "I 
haven't  got  it  any- 
where else,  and  that 
is  all  I  know  about 
it." 

He  then  touched 
her  forehead  light- 
ly with  his  lips. 
"Well,"  he  said, 
gladly,  "that  is  all 
you  ever  will  know, 
thru,  for  the  ship 
has  gone  down,  ;md 
your  dress  has  gone 
with  it." 

They  were  now 
drawing  near  the 
cottage,  where  Mrs. 
Roberts  was  stand- 
ing in  the  door- 
way. Dan  looked 
up  at  the  sky,  and 
the  east  was  streak- 
ed with  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  new 
day. 

"  See,  mother," 
he  cried,  placing 
Myra  in  her  arms, 
what  it  brought." 


not  the  least  recollection  of  it.  It  did  not  matter,  how- 
ever, since  the  far-off  cousin  did  not  know  anything  about 
her  coming,  while  Mrs.  Roberts  was  delighted  to  keep  her 
as  a  little  daughter,  and  Myra  herself  was  only  too  glad 
to  stay.  The  sadness  of  the  anniversary  was  chased  away 
from  the  little  cottage,  and  Dan  will  always  remember  it 
as  the  day  when  his  ship  came  in,  bringing  to  him  the  lit- 
tle sister  from  the  unknown  seas. 


'  my  ship  has  come  in,  and  here  is 


And  so  "on  the  other  side"  Myra  found  those  who 
wanted  her,  and  would  give  her  the  mother-love  which 
she  had  lost.  Not  a  person  of  those  who  remained  at  In- 
dian Head  that  day  could  remember  the  eight-syllabled 
place  where  she  had  been  going,  and  Myra  herself  had 


A  PLEASING  EXPERIMENT. 

BY  JIMMY  BROWN. 

EVERY  time  I  try  to  improve  my  mind  with  science  I 
resolve  that  I  will  never  do  it  again,  and  then  I  always 
go  and  do  it.      Science  is  so  dreadfully  tempting  that  you 
can  hardly  resist  it.      Mr.  Travers  says  that  if  anybody 
once  gets  into  the  habit  of  being  a  scientific  person  there 
is  little  hope  that  he  will  ever  reform,  and  he  says  he  has 
known  good  men  who  became  habitual  astronomers,  and 
actually  took  to  prophesying  weather,  all  because  they 
yielded  to  the  temptation  to  look  through  telescopes,  and 
to  make  figures  on  the  blackboard  with 
chalk. 

1  was  reading  a  lovely  book  the  other 
day.      It  was  all  about  balloons  and  par- 
achutes.    A  parachute  is  a  thing  that 
you  fall  out  of  a  balloon  with.     It  is 
something  like  an  open  um- 
brella, only  nobody   ever 
borrows  it.      If  you  hold  a 
parachute  over  your  head 
and  drop  out  of  a  balloon, 
it  will  hold  you  up  so  that 
you  will  come  down  to  the 
ground  so  gently  that  you 
won't  be  hurt  the  least  bit. 
I    told    Tom    Maginnis 
about  it,  and  we  said  we 
would  make  a  parachute, 
and  jump  out  of  the 
second  -  story    win- 
dow   with    it.       It 
is   easy  enough   to 
make   one,   for   all 
you  have  to  do  is  to 
get  a  big  umbrella 
and    open   it  wide, 
and  hold  on  to  the 
handle.  Last  Satur- 
day afternoon  Tom 
came    over   to   my 
house,  and  we  got 
ready   to   try  what 
the  book  said   was 
"a  pleasing  scien- 
tific experiment." 

We  didn't  have 
the  least  doubt  that 
the  book  told  the 
truth.  But  Tom 
didn't  want  to  be  the 
first  to  jump  out  of 
the  window  —  nei- 
ther did  I — and  we 

thought  we'd  give  Sue's  kitten  a  chance  to  try  a  parachute, 
and  see  how  she  liked  it.  Sue  had  an  umbrella  that  was 
made  of  silk,  and  was  just  the  thing  to  suit  the  kitten.  I 
knew  Sue  wouldn't  mind  lending  the  umbrella,  and  as  she 
was  out  making  calls,  and  I  couldn't  ask  her  permission,  I 
borrowed  the  umbrella  and  the  kitten,  and  meant  to  tell  her 
all  about  it  as  soon  as  she  came  home.  We  tied  the  kitten 
fast  to  the  handle  of  the  umbrella,  so  as  not  to  hurt  her, 


'HE    LIT   RIGHT    ON    THE    MAN'S    HEAD.' 


422 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


and  then  dropped  her  out  of  the  window.  The  wind  was 
blowing  tremendously  hard,  which  I  supposed  was  a  good 
thing-,  for  it  is  the  air  that  holds  up  a  parachute,  and  of 
course  the  more  wind  there  is,  the  more  air  there  is.  and 
the  better  the  parachute  will  stay  up. 

The  minute  we  dropped  the  cat  and  the  umbrella  out  of 
the  window  the  wind  took  them  and  blew  them  clear  over 
the  back  fence  into  Deacon  Smedley's  pasture  before  they 
struck  the  ground.  This  was  all  right  enough,  but  the 
parachute  didn't  stop  after  it  struck  the  ground.  It  start- 
ed across  the  country  about  as  fast  as  a  horse  could  run, 
hitting  the  ground  every  few  minutes,  and  then  bouncing 
up  into  the  air  and  coming  down  again,  and  the  kitten 
kept  clawing  at  everything,  and  yowling  as  if  she  was  be- 
ing killed.  By  the  time  Tom  and  I  could  get  down-stairs 
the  umbrella  was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off.  We  chased 
it  till  we  couldn't  run  any  longer,  but  we  couldn't  catch 
it,  and  the  last  we  saw  of  the  umbrella  and  the  cat  they 
were  making  splendid  time  toward  the  river,  and  I'm  very 
much  afraid  they  were  both  drowned. 

Tom  and  I  came  home  again,  and  when  we  got  a  little 
rested  we  said  we  would  take  the  big  umbrella  and  try 
the  pleasing  scientific  experiment:  at  least  I  said  that 
Tom  ought  to  try  it,  for  we  had  proved  that  a  little  silk 
umbrella  would  let  a  kitten  down  to  the  ground  without 
hurting  her,  and  of  course  a  great  big  umbrella  would 
hold  Tom  up  all  right.  I  didn't  care  to  try  it  myself,  be- 
cause Tom  was  visiting  me.  and  we  ought  always  to  give 
up  our  own  pleasures  in  order  to  make  our  visitors  happy. 

After  a  while  Tom  said  he  would  do  it,  and  when  every- 
thing was  ready  he  sat  on  the  window-ledge,  with  his  legs 
hanging  out,  and  when  the  wind  blew  hard  he  jumped. 

It  is  my  opinion,  now  that  the  thing  is  all  over,  that  the 
umbrella  wasn't  large  enough,  and  that  if  Tom  had  struck 
the  ground  he  would  have  been  hurt.  He  went  down 
awfully  fast,  but  by  good  luck  the  grocer's  man  was  just 
coming  out  of  the  kitchen  door  as  Tom  came  down,  and 
he  lit  right  on  the  man's  head.  It  is  wonderful  how  lucky 
some  people  are.  for  the  grocer's  man  might  have  been 
hurt  if  he  hadn't  happened  to  have  a  bushel  basket  half 
full  of  eggs  with  him.  and  as  he  and  Tom  both  fell  into 
the  eggs,  neither  of  them  was  hurt. 

They  were  just  getting  out  from  among  the  eggs  when 
Sue  came  in  with  some  of  the  ribs  of  her  umbrella  that 
somebody  had  fished  out  of  the  river  and  given  to  her. 
There  didn't  seem  to  be  any  kitten  left,  for  Sue  didn't 
know  anything  about  it,  but  father  and  Mr.  Maginnis 
came  in  a  few  minutes  afterward,  and  I  had  to  explain  the 
whole  thing  to  them. 

This  is  the  last  "pleasing  scientitic  experiment"  I  shall 
ever  try.  I  don't,  think  science  is  at  all  nice,  and,  besides, 
I  am  awfully  sorrv  about  the  kitten. 


CLOCKS  AND  THEIR  INVENTORS. 

IN  the  Kensington  Museum  at  London  is  shown  an  an- 
cient clock  that  was  made  in  1325  by  a  monk  for  Glas- 
tonbury  Abbey.  It  is  going  still.  For  more  than  five 
centuries  it  has  been  keeping  time.  It  told  the  hours  long 
before  Columbus  came  to  America,  and  when  a  few  paint- 
ed savages  wandered  over  the  sites  of  New  York  and 
Brooklyn.  It  was  going  when  Hendrik  Hudson  first 
sailed  into  New  York  Harbor.  It  still  measures  time, 
while  steam  and  electricity  are  moving  all  around  it. 

But  when  it  was  first  made  the  venerable  clock  was  as 
much  an  object  of  \u  nder  as  a  steam-engine  or  an  elec- 
trical machine.  Only  kings  and  rich  monasteries  could 
purchase  a  clock.  There  were  only  a  few  in  all  Europe. 
It  was  thought  at  lirst  that  these  wonderful  machines  were 
the  inventions  of  sorcerers  and  magicians. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  clocks — spring  clocks,  in  which 
the  wheels  are  moved  by  power  from  the  uncoiling  of  a 
coiled  spring,  and  pendulum  clocks,  which  are  moved  by 


the  gradual  falling  of  a  weight,  the  falling  being  regu- 
lated by  the  swinging  of  a  pendulum.  When  a  pendu- 
lum is  set  swinging  it  makes  each  swing  backward  and 
forward  in  just  the  same  time  until  it  stops,  no  matter 
whether  the  swing  is  over  a  long  or  a  short  space.  Its 
swing  is  over  a  longer  space  at  first  than  toward  the  last, 
when  it  is  about  to  stop,  but  it  goes  faster,  so  that  the  time 
of  the  swing  is  always  equal.  This  is  called  the  "  iso- 
chronism''  (equal  time,  from  Greek  isos,  equal,  and  clini- 
nos,  time)  of  the  pendulum. 

But  the  real  inventors  of  clocks  were  probably  the 
Arabs.  These  children  of  the  desert  soon  became  as  fond 
of  invention  as  the  people  of  Connecticut  or  New  York. 
Bagdad  and  Cordova,  their  fine  cities,  were  famous  for 
their  wonderful  machines.  Our  ignorant  ancestors 
thought  the  Arabs  gained  their  rare  learning  from  a  com- 
pact with  Satan.  The  clock  was  one  of  these  inventions, 
and  it  appeared  in  Europe  about  the  twelfth  century.  At 
first  it  was  used  only  in  the  monasteries  to  direct  the  monks 
in  their  prayers.  But  very  soon  clocks  were  set  up  on 
some  high  tower  or  steeple  in  the  European  cities.  In  New 
York  we  have  the  City  Hall  clock,  clocks  at  court-houses 
and  on  many  churches.  But  in  the  cities  of  early  Europe 
there  was  110  way  of  telling  the  hour  except  by  the  sun 
and  the  stars. 

When  the  first  clocks  were  set  up  they  were  thought  to 
be  the  most  wonderful  of  inventions.  The  first  public 
clock  was  raised  on  a  tower  at  Padua,  in  Italy.  A  famous 
striking  clock  was  placed  on  a  tower  at  Bologna  in  1  :!.">(!. 
From  Italy  the  invention  was  carried  to  France  and  Ger- 
many, and  in  136-1  Paris  for  the  first  time  possessed  a 
public  clock.  It  was  set  up  on  a  tower  of  the  King's  pal- 
ace, and  was  built  by  German  workmen.  No  one  in 
France,  it  is  said,  could  make  a  clock. 

Town  clocks  and  church  clocks  are  made  to  move  1>\- 
trains  of  wheels  in  much  the  same  way,  but  the  wheels  are 
very  large  and  strong,  and  the  weights  and  pendulums 
very  heavy.  It  is  very  hard  work  to  wind  up  a  church 
clock,  and  it  needs  a  strong  man  to  do  it.  In  winding  up 
the  clock  in  the  tower  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  the 
crank  or  handle  has  to  be  turned  round  850  times.  Many 
wonderful  clocks  have  been  made,  in  some  of  which  the 
machinery  moved  figures  of  men  and  animals  in  a  very 
curious  way.  At  Heidelberg,  in  Germany,  was  formerly 
a  town  clock  which,  whenever  it  struck  the  hour,  caused 
the  figure  of  an  old  man  to  pull  off  his  hat.  while  a  cock 
crowed  and  clapped  his  wings,  and  soldiers  fought  with 
one  another.  This  clock  was  destroyed  by  the  French 
when  they  burned  Heidelberg  in  1693. 

About  the  year  1500,  clocks,  which  had  been  too  expen- 
sive to  be  used  even  in  many  cities,  are  found  in  private 
houses,  but  still  only  the  very  wealthy  could  purchase 
one.  Watches  seem  to  have  been  made  about  this  time, 
but  were  also  very  expensive.  It  is  hard  for  us  to  con 
ceive  of  a  city  without  its  public  clocks,  but.  in  the  year 
1500  not  many  large  towns  possessed  one.  Three  centu- 
ries and  a  half  have  made  a  wonderful  change. 

The  clock  has  become  one  of  the  commonest  articles  of 
furniture.  American  factories  pour  out  millions  of  them 
annually.  They  are  found  at  all  prices,  from  the  cheap- 
est to  the  most  costly.  In  the  year  1483  the  revenues  of 
the  city  of  Auxerre  were  thought  too  small  to  purchase 
the  costly  invention,  and  the  people  asked  the  King's  per- 
mission to  buy  one.  In  1883  a  wooden  clock  may  be 
bought  for  half  a  dollar,  and  every  village  has  its  public 
l  ime-keeper. 

It  seems  sti-ange  that  we  should  owe  our  clocks  and 
watches  to  the  dark-skinned  and  half-savage  Arabs.  But 
it  shows  us  that  all  races  and  nations  have  been  n.sefiil  to 
each  other.  Once  the  Arabs  were  very  intelligent  and 
powerful;  but  they  have  become  indolent  and  barbarous. 
They  probably  buy  their  clocks  and  watches,  if  they  use 
them,  in  the  European  cities. 


MAY  8,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


423 


THE  KAMBLES  OF  A  DOG. 

BY  L.  M.  FIXKELSTEIX. 

I  AM  a  Newfoundland  dog.  born  in  Mexico,  and  reared 
in  New  York  city  until  I  was  three  years  old.  when  my 
master  decided  to  take  a  trip  round  the  world.  A  friend 
of  liis  then  asked  him, 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  dog?" 

"I  really  don't  know,"  he  replied,  looking  at  me  kind- 
ly. "I  would  like  to  take  him  with  me.  hut  1  am  afraid 
of  losing  him.'' 

I  trembled  lest  lie  should  decide  to  leave  me  behind. 

"I'll  take  care  of  him  until  you  ret  urn."  said  the  friend. 

"  How  do  you  like  that,  Bavard  .'"  said  my  master, 

I  jumped  up,  and,  placing  my  great  pa  us  on  my  mas- 
ter's shoulders,  licked  his  face,  and  whined.  My  master 
seemed  to  understand  me.  for  he  said  : 

"  I  guess  1  can  not  part  with  the  old  hoy,  but  will  take 
him  a  Ion  IT.  Ha!  what  do  you  say  to  I  hat,  now.  Bavard  '." 

I  said  and  did  a  good  deal,  for  1  harked,  and  rushed 
round  and  round  the  room,  upsetting  many  a  delicate  or- 
nament, and  linally  rolled  on  the  Hour,  leaving  a  good 
deal  of  my  coat  on  I  he  Brussels  carpet.  The  next  day  we 

went  on  board  of  a  ship,  and  were  soon  sailing  on  the  bos 

om  of  t  lie  mighty  ocean. 

I  will  not  stop  to  describe  our  passage  across  the  Atlan- 
tic, nor  our  journey  in  Knrope,  for  things  there  did  not 
strike  me  as  being  very  extraordinary.  It  was  not  until 
we  came  to  Asia  that  my  curiosity  was  thoroughly  aroused, 

for  here  everyl  liing  seemed  to  be  entirely  ditferent      man 
ners,  customs,  and  dogs.       Palestine   impressed   me  partic- 
ularly, for  here  it  was  ]  had  a  st   bitter  experience 

When  we  first  arrived  at  Jerusalem,  the  Holy  City,  I 
was  si  i  n  -k  by  the  nil  in  her  of  dogs  in  the  streets,  and  also 

the  variety,  who   rushed   aftei r   horses'   heels,  barking 

lustily,  and  saying:  "Conieon!  bark  louder!  These  are 
Franks  [;'.  e.,  Europeans).  Frighten  them  !  bark  at  them, 
and  frighten  them  away  !" 

At  first  I  was  alarmed  at  the  noise  they  made;  hut  aft- 
erward 1  discovered  that  nou  here  uas  the  saying,  "their 
ha.rk  is  worse  than  their  bite."  more  Irne  than  here. 

It  would  he  easy  for  me  to  lill  a  book  with  descriptions 
of  curious  street  scenes  in  Jerusalem.  I  was  bewildered 
for  (he  lirst  few  days,  for  here  you  see  people  from  almost 
every  part  of  the  world  in  their  own  national  costume 
the  turbaiied  Turk,  the  latest,  Parisian  style,  and  the  al- 
most naked  gypsy.  Such  a  collection  of  fashions  I  never 
did  see ! 

Carriages  of  any  kind,  or  sidewalks,  are  unknown; 
the  streets  are  narrow  and  uneven,  so  t  hat  cats,  dogs,  don- 
keys, mules,  horses,  camels,  and  people  have  to  gel  on  as 
best  they  can  by  jostling  each  other,  and  dodging  this  way 
and  that  way.  Some  streets  are  so  narrow  that  dogs  often 
lying  stretched  out  block  the.  way,  and  persons  on  foot 
have  to  walk  over  them,  while  the  dog  coolly  sleeps  on. 
Most  of  the  dogs  here  look  like  wolves  or  yellow  foxes, 
i'.nd  they  always  see-in  to  bark  the  live-long  night. 

One  day,  while  following  my  master  through  the  lower 
portion  of  the  city,  I  lost  sight  of  him  at  one  of  the  turns, 
and  strayed  into  a  strange  street.  I  was  frightened,  and 
was  about  to  retrace  my  steps,  when  some  Arab  boys  came 
out  of  a  dark-looking  house.  They  seemed  to  recognize 
me,  and  exclaimed,  "Here  is  that  Frank  dog!"  I  ran  up 
to  them,  wagging  my  tail,  and  licked  their  hands,  and  tried 
to  make  them  understand  that  I  was  lost;  but,  alas  for  the 
friendship  of  boys!  They  called  me  into  their  house, 
which  I  trustingly  entered.  Here  they  tied  me  in  the 
cellar,  patting  and  coaxing  me  all  the  time.  My  heart 
fell  as  I  heard  one  of  them  say,  "Nobody  will  find  him 
here;  we  can  keep  him  tied  till  his  master  is  gone." 

Two  or  three  weeks  must  have  passed,  which  seemed  to 
me  to  be  years.  The  boys  brought  me  food  from  time  to 


time.  One  day  they  rushed  in  and  said,  "Now  we  can 
let  him  out,  for  his  master  is  gone."  They  untied  me, 
and  took  me  into  the  streets  with  them.  Coming  into  the 
Christian's  street,  I  rushed  into  the  hotel;  but  only  to  be 
disappointed,  for  the  hotel-keeper  exclaimed: 

"  Well.  Bavard,  poor  dog!  where  have  you  been  ?  Your 
master  has  gone  long  ago." 

I  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  fell  that  I  was  a  waif.  Oh, 
the  auony  I  suffered,  alone  in  a  foreign  land,  among 
strangers,  and  thrust  into  tin-  street  at  night!  The  dogs 
rushed  at  me,  yelling.  "(Jet  out  of  here,  you  detestable 
Frank,  or  we  will  tear  you  to  pieces."  1  was  chased 
and  driven  from  street  to  street  by  various  dogs,  till  I 
rushed  into  an  open  doorway,  which  proved  to  be  an  im- 
mense dirt  \  cellar. 

I  remained  in  this  cellar  for  about  two  days,  till  I  felt 
the  pa  1 1  ITS  of  hunger  gnawing  me.  At  last  1  mustered  up 
courage  to  look  about  me.  Then,  weak  and  faint  as  I  was. 
1  slunk  out,  and  timidly  glanced  up  and  down  the  <|iiiel 
street  Seeing  some  garbage  lying  a  little  further  up  the 
street,  1  ran  across  and  found  a  hard  crust  and  an  old 
bone.  One  day  I  got  a  small  loaf,  and  ran  into  aside 
Street  to  eat  it  in  peace.  Here  I  found  a  dog  with  live  lit 
tie  ones.  At  lirst  she  snarled  at  me;  .she  looked  miserable 
and  half  starved.  I  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  addressed  her 
in  our  universal  tongue,  which  is  one  of  the  advantages 
which  we  enjo\  over  men;  for  all  dogs,  bring  them  from 
an\  part  of  the  world,  can  talk  to  each  other  freely. 

"  Von  are  hungr\  .  perhaps;  take  tins  loaf."  I  said,  lay- 
ing it  near  her. 

Sin-  turned  her  motherly  eye  on  me  with  a  grateful 
expression,  and  said,  "Though  you  are  a  Frank  you  are 
kind.  Thank  yon." 

I  began  to  tell  her  my  history,  when  a  string  of  dogs 
came  into  the  street,  and  began  barking  furiously  at.  me 
that  I  should  clear  out. 

"Halt!"  said  a  large  yellow  dog  with  a  long  shaggy 
coat.  "  Let  I  lie  Least  alone 

The  dogs  fell  back  at  once.  He  advanced,  and  snuff- 
ing my  nose  said. 

"  Are  yon  the  one  who  gave  your  bread  to  the  dog  with 
the  pups  over  \ondcr  :" 

"  Yes.      She  looked  hungry,"  1  replied. 

"Well,  you  have  a  good  heart,  and  1  will  befriend  you. 
Come  here  on  this  doorstep.  T  like  your  face,  so  I  will 
tell  you  all  about  our  rules  in  this  city.  My  name  is  Sa- 
moore,  and  I  am  sheik  [chief  |  of  this  district.  We  have 
about  I  went  \  live  dog  districts,  some  larger  and  some 
smaller;  mine  is  the  largest.  ].  The  strongest  dog  in  his 
district  is  the  sheik  until  whipped  by  some  stronger  dog, 
who  takes  his  place.  2.  When  the  sheik  barks,  all  the 
dogs  in  his  district  must  bark.  3.  No  dog-  must  ever  go 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  his  district.  4.  When  the  dogs 
in  one  district  bark,  all  the  dogs  in  all  the  districts  must 
bark  louder  if  possible.  5.  No  dog  must  move  out  of  a 
man's  way.  6.  Bark  furiously  at  all  strangers.  7.  Drive 
away  all  foreign  dogs.  8.  Always  bark  at  night.  These 
are  rules  which  every  dog  must  fulfill,  or  we  kill  him  or 
banish  him  from  the  city. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,"  added  Samoore,  "  but  if  you 
are  clever  and  daring  you  can  fight  and  get  to  he  sheik  of 
some  district.  We  are  going  to  have  a  business  meeting 
to-night  of  all  the  sheiks  in  David's  Square,  and  I  will  in- 
troduce you  to  them." 

I  felt  highly  honored.  At  midnight  we  hurried  to  the 
square.  Most  of  the  dog  sheiks  had  already  assembled. 
OH  my  appearance  there  was  a  general  growling  and 
barking;  but  Samoore  soon  quieted  them  by  saying  I  was 
his  protege. 

After  discussing  various  forms  of  management,  one  of 
the  sheiks  called  upon  me  for  a  speech  on  Frank  dogs. 

I  related  as  best  I  could  how  dogs  were  treated  in  my 
country.  They  all  looked  disgusted  when  I  told  them 


•424 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


that  we  had  to  wear  muzzles,  and  were  not  allowed  to 
roam  about  the  streets,  but  that  every  dog  had  his  owner. 
"  Don't  you  dogs  here  ever  get  mad  ?"  I  inquired. 

' '  Mad !  What  an  absurd  question !  We  never  heard 
of  such  a  thing.  We  are  too  intelligent  to  get  mad,  for 
we  take  everything  calmly  in  this  country,  like  our  own- 
ers the  Turks,  and  the  more  noise  we  make,  the  less  fear 
there  is.  I  don't  wonder  your  countrymen  are  so  fright- 
ened when  we  bark  at  them.  I  suppose  they  think  us 
mad ;  it  amuses  us  highly.  You  foreign  dogs  are  slaves ; 
here  we  have  liberty;  nobody  dares  muzzle  us,  and  we 
have  everything  our  own  way." 


BAYARD. 

Samoore  had  quite  an  affection  for  me,  for  he  said,  on 
our  way  back,  ''The  sheik  of  the  Armenian  quarter  has 
been  wounded,  so  if  you  go  there  and  fight  the  dogs  you 
can  become  chief." 

I  did  so  next  day,  and  after  a  hard  struggle  I  succeeded 
in  conquering  all  the  dogs.  They  proclaimed  me  supe- 
rior to  them  in  strength.  The  old  sheik  died  after  a  few 
days,  and  I  remained  chief. 

I  held  this  position  for  nearly  two  years,  and  often 
while  asleep  on  the  rough  pavement  I  would  dream  that  I 
had  found  my  master;  but  generally  I  would  be  rudely 


awakened  by  some  boy  flinging  a  stone  at  me.  One  day 
while  I  was  indulging  in  a  day-dream  I  heard  a  familiar 
voice  exclaim, 

"Why,  I  am  sure  that  is  Bavard,  Mr.  Mentor's  dog 
which  he  lost  while  here." 

I  jumped  up,  bewildered,  for  I  had  not  heard  that  sweet 
name  in  years.  Two  gentlemen  came  up.  ' '  Bavard ! 
Bavard !"  called  one  of  them.  I  barked  and  jumped  round 
him.  He  saw  that  I  recognized  him,  and  said  to  his  com- 
panion : 

"Well,  Mentor  will  be  happy  if  I  take  him  back." 
My  feelings  of  delight  were  inexpressible.    I  left  my  dis- 
trict  and   followed 
them  to  the  hotel. 

That  night  I  went 
and  bade  farewell  to 
all  my  dog  friends, 
for  we  were  to  start 
the  next  morning. 
They  thought  I  was 
ungrateful  to  desert 
their  city.  Howev- 
er, a  large  company 
of  dogs  accompa- 
nied me  next  morn- 
ing to  the  Jaffa 
Gate,  and  barked 
their  farewells  lus- 
tily. My  old  friend 
Samoore's  tears  ran 
fast  as  he  rubbed  his 
nose  against  mine 
for  the  last  time, 
and  my  eyes  were 
dimmed  as  I  answer- 
ed with  a  quivering 
bark.  A  last  glance, 
and  the  ancient 
walled  city,  with  its 
hundreds  of  dogs, 
was  out  of  sight. 

It  was  a  long 
journey,  but  finally 
we  arrived  in  New 
York,  and  I  saw  my 
master  standing  on 
the  dock.  He  had 
come  to  meet  his 
friend,  and  little  ex- 
pected to  see  me,  for 
when  I  barked  he 
started  with  an  as- 
tonished look.  As 
soon  as  the  vessel 
landed  I  leaped  on 
shore,  and  whining, 
fainted  at  his  feet. 
When  I  revived  I 
found  him  pouring 
water  down  my 
throat,  and  exclaim- 
ing, "Bavard!  Ba- 
vard! faithful  dog!"  I  wagged  my  tail  and  opened  my 
eyes,  for  I  was  too  faint  to  rise.  I  was  lifted  into  his  car- 
riage, and  brought  to  my  old  home.  My  former  valet  re- 
ceived me  with  joy.  In  a  few  days  I  was  all  right  again, 
to  the  delight  of  my  dear  master.  Becalling  all  my  ad- 
ventures, I  thought  that  perhaps  my  young  friends,  espe- 
cially the  small  boy,  would  be  interested  to  know  that, 
though  I  am  only  a  dog,  yet  I  have  deep  feelings,  and  un- 
derstand many  things,  and  have  become  much  wiser  in 
my  tour  round  the  world.  Hoping  my  story  will  interest 
you,  I  remain,  yours  faithfully,  BAVARD. 


MAY  8,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


425 


THE    GAME    OF    LACROSSE.— [SEE  PAGE  426.] 


426 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


LACROSSE. 

BY  SHERWOOD  RYSE. 

TO  the  "noble  red  man,"'  for  whom  we  all  have  some 
sort  of  romantic  admiration  in  spite  of  his  faults,  we 
owe  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  manly  of  games.  It  is 
strange  that  a  civilized  people  should  learn  a  pastime  from 
savages,  and  even  more  strange  that  it  should  he  one  that 
is  more  free  from  danger  than  any  of  our  own  games  with 
which  it  can  be  compared.  Broken  limbs  and  severe 
bruises  are,  unhappily,  too  common  in  most  of  our  field 
games;  but  in  lacrosse  he  is  indeed  unfortunate  who  re- 
ceives a  severer  wound  than  a  sharp  rap  on  the  knuckles, 
or.  at  the  worst,  a  broken  nail. 

The  origin  of  the  name  is  the  French  words  "  la  crosse," 
crosse  being  a  bishop's  crozier.  which  the  stick  resembles 
in  shape,  and  the  crosse  is  the  racquet-like  stick  with 
which  the  game  is  played.  The  ball  is  generally  made  of 
solid  rubber,  of  the  kind  that  is  called  "sponge  rubber." 
With  the  exception  of  these  and  of  the  goal  posts,  which 
are  six  feet  high,  and  placed  six  feet  apart,  and  surmount- 
ed by  flags,  no  other  implements  are  required  for  the 
game.  As  for  dress,  that  which  is  suitable  for  foot-ball, 
or  lawn  tennis,  or  cricket  will  also  do  for  lacrosse,  but  as 
in  foot-ball,  all  the  players  of  the  one  side  must  wear  the 
same  color,  so  as  to  distinguish  friends  from  foes. 

It  is  usual  to  have  twelve  players  on  each  side,  but  let 
no  ambitious  team  of  young  players  be  discouraged  if 
they  can  only  muster  two-thirds  of  that  number,  provided 
the  other  side  has  as  many  and  no  more.  Of  course  each 
side  has  its  captain,  whose  word  is  law.  How  the  players 
are  placed  on  the  field  we  shall  now  see. 

In  front  of  one  of  the  goals  stands  a  man  in  red,  who  is 
the  goal-keeper,  and  close  by  him  stands  a  blue,  known  as 
"home, "whose  business  it  is  to  interfere  with  the  goal- 
keeper when  he  has  the  ball.  If  you  look  over  the  field 
you  will  see  that  every  red  is  attended  by  a  blue.  There 
is  the  red  "  point"  standing  a  few  yards  in  front  of  the 
goal-keeper,  and  a  blue  fielder  attending  him.  A  little 
further  away  from  the  goal  is  "cover- point,"  also  with 
his  blue  shadow,  and  so  on,  fielder  for  fielder,  until  you 
come  to  the  blue  "point"  and  "cover-point"  with  their 
red  attendants.  From  this  it  will  be  seen  that  a  player 
must  be  very  quick  and  dodgy  to  use  to  advantage  any 
chance  that  may  come  to  him,  since  an  opponent  is  al- 
ways at  his  side. 

When  the  field  is  arranged,  the  referee  or  umpire  ad- 
vances to  the  middle  of  the  ground  and  places  the  ball  on 
a  mark.  Two  players  then  take  up  positions  facing  each 
other,  one  of  them  perhaps  kneeling  on  one  knee,  and  I  lie 
other  stooping  down.  These  players  are  called  "facing- 
men,"  or  "centres,"  and  it  is  they  who  start  the  game. 

"Play!"  cries  the  umpire.  Swish  goes  the  crosse  of 
the  stooping  player,  who  has  tried  to  draw  the  ball  out 
from  between  the  two  crosses.  But  the  other,  with  quick 
movement,  brings  his  "stick"  sharply  down  between  the 
ball  and  his  opponent's  stick,  and  then  picking  the  ball  up 
with  it,  he  starts  to  run.  But  he  is  not  allowed  full  swing ; 
for  the  red  player  hits  fiercely  at  blue's  crosse,  who,  how- 
ever, draws  it  back,  and  tosses  the  ball  over  to  one  of  his 
own  fielders.  This  is  a  dodger,  and  wonderfully  well  he 
avoids  his  enemies.  A  red  crosse  was  descending  upon  his 
with  a  mighty  blow  that  would  not  only  have  dislodged 
the  ball  from  its  resting-place  on  the  netting,  but  would 
most  likely  have,  knocked  the  stick  right  out  of  the  blue 
dodger's  hands.  But  blue  is  up  to  this  trick.  Is  he  not 
a  dodger,  and  does  he  not  know  just  what  to  do  in  a  case 
like  this  ?  He  simply  turns  aside  his  crosse,  so  that  the 
other  slick  hits  only  the  ground,  and  passes  his  opponent 
before  the  latter  can  raise  his  stick  for  another  stroke. 

But  another  red  is  close  upon  him,  and  as  blue  has  done 
•well  in  bringing  the  ball  so  far,  lie  tosses  it  to  another  of 
his  own  side.  This  player  is  almost  within  easy  throw  of 


the  blue  goal;  it  is  a  tempting  shot,  and  he  tries  it.  But 
he  happens  to  throw  the  ball  right  at  the  goal-keeper,  from 
whose  stick  it  rebounds,  until  it  is  secured  by  the  red  "cov- 
er-point." wbo,  seeing  the  blue  field  somewhat  scattered, 
throws  it  with  great  force  in  the  direction  of  their  goal. 
Unfortunately  for  him,  in  the  race  for  the  ball  the  blue 
player  wins,  and  before  the  red  can  stop  him  lie  has 
picked  up  the  ball  and  is  off  with  it.  Soon  he  loses  it.  and 
it  is  bandied  about  from  one  to  another,  with  a  great  clash- 
ing of  sticks,  and  doubling  and  panting  and  shouting,  un- 
til  a  loud  yell  of  triumph  arises  from  the  blues  as  the  ball 
is  carried  with  a  rush  through  their  enemies'  goal. 

Thus  the  first  game  is  a  victory  for  the  blues;  but  they 
had  the  wind  in  their  favor,  and  that  was  a  great  advan- 
tage. Now  you  will  see  the  sides  change  goals,  in  accord- 
ance wTith  the  law,  and  with  the  favoring  breeze  perhaps 
the  reds  will  recover  their  lost  ground.  Then  if,  as  often 
happens,  the  wind  dies  away  as  the  sun  gets  lower,  you 
will  see  a  grandly  contested  game  to  decide  the  match. 
Not,  however,  that  two  out  of  three  games  are  always  re- 
quired for  a  match.  Sometimes  it  is  "best  out  of  live," 
and  in  important  matches  that  side  has  the  victory  that 
wins  most  games  in  a  stated  time,  say  an  hour  and  a  half. 

The  principal  art  in  lacrosse  is  that  by  which  a  player 
who  finds  himself  hard  pressed  by  an  opponent  throws 
the  ball  to  one  of  his  own  side  who  shall  carry  it  out  of 
danger.  This  is  called  "tacking,"  and  it  is  the  chief 
merit  of  the  play  of  the  Canadian  Indians,  picked  teams 
of  whom  have  seldom  if  ever  been  beaten  by  white 
men.  You  will  see  a  player  who  has  been  running  with 
the  ball  on  his  stick,  and  who  is  closely  followed  by  one  of 
his  enemies,  suddenly  relieve  himself  of  the  ball  and  so 
thwart  his  pursuer.  As  likely  as  not  he  will  throw  the 
ball  backward  over  his  head,  and  the  action  will  look  very 
much  like  "fancy"  play,  which  should  be  avoided  in  all 
games.  But  in  this  case  it  is  not  "fancy,"  but  really 
"scientific"  play,  for  had  he  thrown  the  ball  in  front,  his 
pursuer  would  have  knocked  it  off  his  stick  as  he  swung 
his  stick  backward  in  order  to  throw  the  ball  forward. 
With  good  judgment,  therefore,  he  threw  the  ball  back- 
ward over  his  head,  and  so  his  body  was  between  his  stick 
and  his  enemy  in  the  rear  until  the  ball  had  happily  been 
passed  to  a  friend  who  was  on  the  lookout  for  it. 

In  another  case  the  player  who  had  the  ball  might  resort 
to  other  tactics  than  tacking,  especially  if  he  was  not  closely 
pressed  from  behind.  It  might  be  that,  although  he  \\as 
a  long  way  from  the  goal,  the  field  was  scattered  in  out- 
of-the-way  parts  of  the  ground,  or  massed  behind  him,  and 
the  goal,  perhaps,  unprotected.  In  that  case,  then,  he 
might  try  a  long  throw  at  goal,  since  it  might  win  a  game, 
and  not  being  pressed  it  would  be  useless  to  waste  valuable 
time  in  passing  the  ball  to  a  friend  who  had  no  In  I  lei- 
chance  of  forwarding  it  than  he  had. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  A  IVIES      OTI*, 

AUTHOR  OF  " TOBY  TYLER,"  ••  TIM  AND  TIP,"  "  MR.  STI-BDS'S  BROTHER."  ETC. 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  WORK  OF  THE  TIDE. 

A  NXIOUSLY  the  boys  watched  for  the  first  sign  which 
jTX  would  tell  that  their  plan  was  a  success,  and  as  the 
water  rose  higher  and  higher  their  fears  lest  it  should 
prove  a  failure  increased. 

Soon  it  was  easy  to  see  that  the  rafts  were  settling  into 
the  water,  and  the  chains  gave  forth  a  dull,  muffled  clank 
now  and  then  as  the  strain  upon  them  forced  the  links 
into  a  more  perfect  bearing  upon  each  other. 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


MAY  8,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


427 


"  Do  you  think  they  will  raise  her  ?"  asked  Dare,  unable 
to  bear  the  silence  any  longer. 

"liaise  her!"  echoed  Captain  Sammy  —  "they'll  have 
to,  unless  something  breaks,  and  I  don't  think  it  will." 

Then  the  hoys  waited  in  fear  lest  something  should 
break,  starting  in  alarm  at  the-  .slightest  sound.  But  there 
was  iin  sign  but.  that  everything  was  as  strong  as  Captain 
Sammy's  faith. 

Finally  the  rafts  settled  down  as  if  the  weight  of  the 
/'.  itrl  was  about  to  sink  them,  and  then,  just  as  the  boys 
were  e\pi"-'ing  to  see  them  covered  by  the  water,  there 
was  a  sudden  forking  motion,  a  sort  of  trembling  of  the 
planking,  and  they  rose  at  once-  several  inches  out,  of  the 
water. 

"  Hurrah  !"  shouted  the  ( 'a plain,  and  the  men  joined  in 
the  ebeer,  while  the  hoys  added  their  voices  to  the  general 
uproar. 

"\Vell.  lads,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  in  a  cheery  tone, 
"tile  work  is  as  good  as  done  now.  If  I  waMi't  getting  so 
old  and  full  of  rheumatic  twinges.  I'd  stay  over  herewith 
you,  an'  we'd  take  advantage  of  the  tide  to-night,  for 

there's  a  g 1   moon,  bill   as   it    is.  we'll    have   to   wait    till 

morning,  an'  I'll  toddle  over  to  the  dock  now  to  gee  bow 
things  arc  coming  on  there.  Keep  a  sharp  lookout  that 
nothing  ballpens,  an'  I'll  be  here  a!  low  tide  to  morrow." 

He  had  started  o!F  when  he  began  to  speak,  and  by  the 
time  lie  bad  finished  In-  and  his  nun  \\ere  nearly  out.  of 
sight  around  the  point. 

The  boys  were  left  alone  to  keep  watch  that  the  tide  did 
its  dnly. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do."  said  Hare,  after  they 
had  remained  silent  for  sunn-  lime,  watching  the  rafts  as 
1hc\  lifted  the  I'ftirl  higher  and  higher  from  the  place 
that  had  very  nearly  been  her  grave.  "  It  will  be  low 
water  at  ten  o'clock,  and  bright  moonlight  at  the  same 
time.  \Ve  can  take  in  the  slack  of  those  cables  just  as 
well  as  if  Captain  Sammy  was  with  us.  It  will  be  high 
tide  about,  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  we  can  take 
turns  at  watching,  so  that  we  shall  be  sure  to  pull  her  in 
at  high  water.  Then  u  lien  Captain  Sammy  comes  to 
morrow  she  will  be  almost  ready  to  go  to  work  on." 

As  it.  was  necessary  to  remain  idle  until  high  water, 
which  would  not  be  for  nearly  live  hours  more.  Dare  pro 
pos  •(!  that.  Bobby  should  walk  to  the  hotel,  for  the  double 
purpose  of  informing  his  father  of  their  success  up  to  that 
point,  and  to  supply  their  larder. 

Bobby  returned  in  due  time.  warm,  tired,  and  loaded 
down  with  good  things,  out  of  which  all  three  made  a 
hearty  dinner.  Then  there  was  more  lounging  around, 
and  laying  plans  for  their  trip  to  the  Everglades,  until 
the  water  had  nearly  crept  up  to  the  line  on  the  sand  which 
marked  the  height  to  which  the  tide  (lowed. 

Then  the  work  began.  The  long  hawser  had  been  made 
fast  to  a,  tree  which  grew  on  the  bank,  and  Charley  and 
Bobby  stationed  themselves  there,  while  Dare  rowed  out 
to  the  rafts  and  raised  the  anchors. 

"  All  right !"  he  shouted,  as  the  last  one  was  raised,  and 
nothing  prevented  the  rafts  and  their  burden  from  being 
pulled  in  toward  the  shore. 

As  he  spoke  he  jumped  into  the  boat,  rowed  quickly  to 
the  beach,  and  did  his  share  toward  hauling  their  prize 
into  more  shallow  water. 

The  task  required  all  the  strength  that  they  possessed, 
but  they  were  more  than  willing  to  expend  it  at  such  work, 
and  by  the  time  the  tide  was  fully  up,  the  Pearl  had  struck 
bottom  again,  and  their  labor  was  over  for  six  hours. 

The  rafts  were  anchored  again,  care  being  taken  that  it 
should  be  done  in  such  a  way  that  they  would  swing  as 
far  apart  as  possible,  as  Captain  Sammy  had  ordered,  and 
when  the  young  wreckers  were  in  their  tent  again  they 
had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  the.  J'fiirl  was  not  more 
than  half  as  far  away  from  the  shore  as  she  had  been  in 
the  morning. 


"  Now."  said  Dare,  as  he  looked  at  bis  watch.  "  it  is  a 
little  past  four.  Let's  see  if  some  of  us  can't  bottle  up 
some  sleep  before  it  is  time  to  go  to  work  again.  Charley. 
you  and  Bob  lie  down,  and  I  will  keep  watch  until  six; 
Bobby  shall  stand  guard  till  eight,  and  you  till  ten.  After 
that  we  will  divide  up  an  hour  at  a  time,  because  it  will 
be  more  Ion. .some  in  t  he  night." 

This  plan  was  carried  out,  and  although  there  was  not 
much  sleeping  done  before  low  water,  each  one  felt  re- 
freshed because  of  the  rest  he  had  thus  forced  himself  to 
take. 

The  night  was  so  light  that  it  was  possible  to  work  quite 
as  well  as  in  the  day.  and  they  were' cheered  in  their  labors 
by  seeing  fully  half  the  upper  works  of  the  little  steamer 
above  water,  when  before  only  her  smoke-stack  was  vis- 
ible. 

The  little  pilot-house  and  cabin  glistened  as  white  in 
the  moonlight  as  if  the  painters  had  just  finished  their 
work,  and  through  the  open  windows  could  be  seen  a.  por- 
tion of  t  lie  machinery. 

"Isn't  shea  beauty  :"  exclaimed  Charley. 

"  Indeed  she  is."  replied  Dare,  who  hardly  felt  like  do- 
ing anything  else  but  looking  at  her;  "  but  she  won't  do 
us  much  good  if  we  don't  go  to  work.'' 

Thus  reminded  that  they  were  there  for  labor  rather 
than  admiration,  the  hoys  commenced  at  once  the  difficult 
task  before  them.  The  chains  wen1  lirst  unfastened  one 
b\  one,  and  then  made  taut  and  fastened  again  as  Captain 
Sammy  and  his  men  had  done  at  tirst. 

While  h  uasnot  possible  for  the  boys  to  take  in  as  much 
slack  of  the  chains  as  the  three  men  could  have  done, 
they  had  the  satisfaction  of  reducing  the  length  very  ma- 
terially. 

Then  the  anchors  were  placed  so  that  the  rafts  would 
swing  closer  together  when  the  tide  forced  them  to  begin 
their  work  of  lifting  ai'ain.  and  the  night-watch  began. 

It  was  fully  eleven  o'clock,  and  Dare  proposed  t  bat  they 
stand  guard  one  hoiirat  a  time.  . \slhe  lirst  watch  would 
he  the  easiest.  Hare  gave  that  to  Bobby,  with  instructions 
to  call  (.'barley  at  twelve,  be  coming  on  at  one. 

During"  that  night  not  one  of  the  sentries  fell  asleep  at 
his  post.  There  were  many  times  when  each  one  of  them 
felt  very  much  like  yielding  to  the  slumber  that  beset  his 
eyelids,  but  a  brisk  walk  along  the  beach  soon  rendered 
HUM  wakeful. 

At  one  o'clock-  Dare  was  called,  and  when  his  hour  was 
up  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  waken  either  of  the  others, 
who  were  sleeping  so  sweetly,  and  arguing  that,  as  the 
leader  of  the  party,  he  should  do  the  most  work,  he  contin- 
ued on  guard  until  four  o'clock,  when  he  roused  the  others. 

Both  the  boys  were  very  much  surprised  at  finding  that 
Dare  had  been  on  watch  three  hours  instead  of  one,  and 
Charley  insisted  that  in  the  future  he  should  do  no  inore 
than  his  share  of  the  work,  whatever  might  happen. 

This  time  it  was  a  sleepy  party  who  tugged  and  pulled 
at  the  heavy  hawser,  but,  when  the  Pearl  grounded  it 
seemed  almost  certain  that  she  would  be  fully  uncovered 
at  low  water,  and  with  the  idea  that  in  the  morning  they 
would  be  able  to  see  the  extent  of  the  damage  done  their 
steamer,  all  hands  rolled  into  bed. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
HIGH     AND     DRY. 

THE  boys  did  not  awaken  until  a  late  hour  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  and  then,  even  though  it  was  only  about 
"  half-tide,"  they  could  see  above  the  surface  of  the  water 
quite  a  portion  of  the  upper  works  of  the  steamer. 

They  felt  lame  and  stiff  when  they  came  out  of  the 
tent,  but  this  actual  evidence  of  progress  took  that  feeling 
away  in  a  great  measure,  and  all  hands  were  as  eager  for 
work  as  if  they  had  been  taking  rest  for  a  week. 

One  of  the  boys  from  the  hotel  had  brought  them  a  can 


428 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NOW    THAT'S    WHAT    I    CALL    BUSINESS. 


of  hot  coffee,  and  after  a  hurried  bath,  which  was  hardly 
more  than  a  dip  into  the  water,  they  ate  their  breakfast 
in  quite  as  much  haste,  for  they  wanted  to  have  every- 
thing in  and  around  the  tent  looking  in  ship-shape  order 
when  Captain  Sammy  arrived. 

Each  moment  that  passed  revealed  more  of  the  little 
steamer  to  the  view  of  the  eager  watchers,  and  paddling 
out  to  the  rafts  they  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that, 
without  a  doubt,  she  would  be  high  and  dry  at  low  water. 

Already  was  the  rail  of  the  steamer  uncovered,  and  it 
was  at  last  possible  to  see  very  plainly  the  little  craft  that 
was  to  be  under  their  complete  control. 

She  was  a  side- wheel  boat,  on  the  paddle-boxes  of  which 
were  painted  in  black,  with  just  a  trifle  of  ornamentation, 
the  words, 

THE  PEARL, 

OF    TAMPA. 

The  smoke-stack  was  painted  red,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
outside  work  pure  white  that  had  suffered  but  little  discol- 
oration by  its  long  bath. 

About  three  feet  of  the  bow  was  decked  over  flush  with 
the  rail,  and  evidently  served  as  a  tank  for  fresh- water; 
then  came  the  main  cabin,  built  straight  up  from  the  bot- 
tom flooring,  and  occupying  fully  twelve  feet  of  the 
length.  At  the  forward  end  of  this,  and  rising  about 
three  feet  above  the  top,  was  a  tiny  pilot-house  hardly 
more  than  three  feet  square,  in  which  could  be  seen  a 
wheel  that  had  once  been  highly  polished,  and  curiously 
inlaid  with  different-colored  woods,  and  what  looked  to  be 
pieces  of  bone  or  ivory. 

The  interior  of  the  cabin  was  painted  light  gray,  and  it 
occupied  the  full  width  of  the  craft.  A  door  at  the  for- 
ward end  opened  toward  the  bow,  and  one  aft  led  into 
the  little  hall  that  ran  past  the  engine-room  to  the  stern. 
Two  windows  on  either  side  afforded  means  for  the  free 
circulation  of  air,  and  between  these  windows  were  two 
berths,  one  above  the  other,  on  each  side. 

The  machinery,  which  was,  of  course,  directly  between 


the  paddle-boxes,  occupied  about  eight  feet  of  space, 

and  aft  of  this  was  a  small  room  about  four  feet  deep, 

that  was  evidently  intended  for  the  engineer. 

Aft  of  this  was  the  standing-room,  five  feet  deep, 
over  which  had  once  been  an  awning,  but  this  was  now 
merely  shreds  of  cloth  hanging  in  the  most  forlorn-look- 
ing manner. 

Now  that  they  had  seen  the  interior  of  the  Pearl,  they 
were  doubly  anxious  to  learn  just  how  much  damage 
had  been  done  to  her,  so  that  they  might  know  how  much 
labor  would  have  to  be  perfoi-med  before  she  could  be 
floated. 

They  were  so  busily  engaged  in  trying  to  ascertain  the 
extent  of  her  injuries  that  they  did  not  hear  the  approach 
of  Captain  Sammy,  who  was  stumping  along  the  beach, 
evidently  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  surprise  because  the 
work  had  progressed  so  rapidly,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
spoke  that  they  were  aware  of  his  presence. 

"Now  that's  what  I  call  business,"  he  said,  approv- 
ingly. "You  couldn't  wait  for  daylight,  but  had  to  sit 
up  all  night  so  you  could  see  the  craft  to-day,  eh  ?" 

"We  thought  it  was  a  pity  to  waste  so  much  time,  when 
it  wasn't  a  great  deal  of  work  to  take  advantage  of  last 
night's  tide,''  replied  Dare. 

"Well,  if  I  liad  known  what  you  had  been  doing,  I 
should  have  brought  some  stuff  to  work  with  this  morn- 
ing. Say,  you  Charley  and  Bob,  come  inshore  here  an' 
put  me  011  to  the  raft,  an'  then  row  over  to  the  dock,  tell 
one  of  the  men  there  to  give  you  some  canvas,  pump 
tacks,  and  cold  tar;  then  get  back  here  as  quick  as  you 
can." 

The  boys  obeyed  the  little  Captain's  orders  very  read- 
ily, and  while  they  were  at  the  dock  Captain  Sammy  and 
Dare  unfastened  the  cables  from  one  of  the  rafts,  and 
poled  it  ashore. 

The  planks  which  had  formed  the  top  were  now  to  do 
service  as  ways  for  the  boat  to  rest  on  while  she  was  being 
repaired,  and  these  were  nailed  together  and  weighted 
down  by  the  chains  and  rocks,  so  they  could  not  float 
when  the  tide  came  up  again. 

By  the  time  the  boys  returned  from  the  dock,  the  en- 
tire bow  of  the  steamer  was  out  of  water. 

[TO  BE    CONTINUED.] 


MAY  8,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


429 


EMBROIDERY  FOR 
GIRLS. 

BY  SUSAN  HAYES  WARD. 
No.  VII. 

OR  a  plain  bureau  a  scarf 
covering;  is  perhaps  as  pret- 
ty as  any.  and  it  should  he 
embroidered  at  the  cuds. 
or  some  simple  figure 
could  be  scattered  over  it. 
But  for  bureaus  that  have 
boxes  (iii  cither  side  a 
square  or  oblong  piece  of 
crash  or  round-thread  lin- 
en, is  thesimplest  and  most 
useful  cover,  as  it  can  be 
readily  washed;  and  this, 
with  a  cushion  cover  tn 
match,  any  young  n  n  I  e;m 
make.  Nothing  is  required 
but  a  piece  of  crash  of 
a  quality  ccisting  about 
twenty  live  cents  a  yard. 

and  a   few  soft  shades  of  crewel.      Cut    the   linen   exactly 

the  right  si/.e  u>  fit  the  opening  before  the  glass;  allow  an 

inch  for  fringe  if  it  is  to  be  over-east  or  hem-stitched,  an 

inch  and  a  half  if  tied  in  tiny  knots,  which  can  lie  made 

easily  with  the  aid  of  a  crochet  hook.      The  fringe  should 

be  ravelled  out  last  of  all,  after  tl m  broidery  is  completed. 

l>raw    in   the   four  corners  the  designs   1,   '>,  ',',,   and   4   by 

holding  the  pattern  up  to 

the    window  -  pane    if   you 

have  no  impression-paper. 

and  tracing'  the  lines  with 

a  soft  sharp  pencil. 

Work  the  border  lines 

and  stems  in  stem  stitch. 

the  leaves  and  flowers  in 

New    England    stitch,    as 

given   in   YOUNG  PEOPLE 

No.  59,  letting  the  stitches 

run  in  the  direction  of  the 

shading    lines.      The    pin- 
cushion   cover    should   be 

made  in  the  same  way,  with 

border    lines,   and    design 

No.  5  in  the  centre,  and  it 

should  be  cut  large  enough, 

so  that  the  fringe   at  the 

corners  will  touch  the  bu- 
reau.     The  whole    should 

be  worked  either  in  three 

shades    of    one    color,    as 

olive   or  blue,  or  the  bor- 
der lines,  leaves,  and  stems 

can    be    worked    in    three 

shades    of    olive    or    sage 

greens,  and  the  flowers  in 

pink    (scarlet- pink),   blue, 

and  yellow.      Let  the  out- 
er  bordering    line   be  the 

darkest. 

Pretty  and    useful  tray 

covers  can  be  made  in  the 

same  way  of  small  pieces 

of  crash  fringed  at  the  two 

ends  or   all   around,  with 

these  little  designs  in  the 

corners,   but   without    the 

centre  figure,  which  would 


be  covered  by  the  cups,  and  without  the  borderlines,  which 
make  a  little  too  much  color  for  table  use.  The  more  care- 
fully the  fringe  is  finished,  the  prettier  the  work  will  look. 
Press  on  the  wrong  side  with  a  warm  iron,  laying  the  work 
over  folds  of  soft  flannel.  If  the  wools  are  good,  this  work 
will  bear  careful  washing. 


A  LITTLE  SUFFERER. 

BY'  ELEANOR  A.  HUNTER. 

I'M  hiking  out  my  Clarilicl 
Tliis  morning  for  un  airing; 
Mir  lias  licen  sii  k  so  very  long, 
\Ve  liofe  have  found  it"  wearing. 

She's  hail  the  measles  and  the  mumps, 
And  all  since   last   December, 

'Sides    several    (ivver   sicklli  SM  s 
Whose  names   I   can't   wemember. 

I've  had   her  vac-ci-na  ted,  too, 
And  uh!  the  sear  it's  leaving! 

But   all   these   lilies  are   noltin   to 
The  time  when  she  was  teeving. 

I  sat  up  all   night   long  wis  her; 

She   i:ivw   worse   fast   and   faster; 
1  gave   In  r  pollygollic,  and 

I 'ut   on  a  mustard  piaster. 

She's   been  so   patient   and   so  sweet, 

1    love   to   kiss  and   pel    her. 
I' child,  she's  siillered  ev'ryfing! 

Mill    now    the  darling's   heller. 

I    hope   the  air  vill   do  her  g 1; 

"Dear,  don't    kick   oil'  your  cover." 
I've   been  «/  anxious,  no  one  knows 

Or   feels   it    like   a   mower' 


DESIGN  FOR  BUREAU  OR  TRAY  COVER. 


430 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NEW  YORK  Crrv. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— Somehow  or  other  the 
letter  from  John  M.  in  the  Post-office  Box  for 
April  IT  brines  back  the  memory  of  a  little  boy 
•with  whom  I  came  over  the  ocean  two  years 
ago  and  whom  I  particularly  remember  because 
he  was  so  fond  of  reading.  He  had  a  brother 
Gerald  too,  and  I  am  quite  sure  it.  is  his  aunt 
who  has  just  told  us  the  pretty  story  of  "  Nan." 
And  so.  dear  Postmistress,  I  dare  say  your  cor- 
respondent and  my  little  friend  of  the  steamer— 
if  he  will  let  me  call  him  so— are  the  same.  It 
uric 'veil  me  to  hear  that  he  had  been  ill:  but  I 
have  no  doubt,  without  knowing  about  it,  that 
he  lias  borne  the  illness  patiently.  I  think  I  saw 
the  patience  in  his  eyes  on  board  ship,  and  I  am 
quite  sure-  I  can  read  it  between  the  lines  of  his 
Bright  little  letter. 

Somehow,  too,  the  letter  brings  back  the  ten- 
der memory  of  another  of  my  boy  friends,  who, 
just  three  years  ago,  when  about  Johnnie's  age, 
was  taken  with  an  illness  that  proved  to  be  long 
and  dangerous.  After  a  while  he  got  better,  but. 
whether' he  staid  upstairs  or  came  to  the  front 
window  when  the  processions  went  by  made  no 
difference  :  the  eyes  that  had  been  so  bright 
won lil  in- ve-r  si  •(-  a  train  This  was  a  terrible  trial 
—more  terrible  even  than  the  illness— but  he  bore 
it  so  bravely  and  uncomplainingly  that  those 
who  were  about  him  grew  bra  ve  and  uncomplain- 
ing too,  and  will  be  better  all  their  lives  for  the- 
example  of  his  patience.  And  that  is  the-  way 
in  which  we  can  make  even  our  sicknesses  help- 
ful to  those  around  us  and  to  ourselves.  It  is  a 
hard  thing.  I  know,  to  be  ill,  but  perhaps  during 
the  last  year  Johnnie-  has  been  showing  his  bro- 
thers that  it,  is  not  so  hard  as  they  have  thought. 
[  am  glad,  at  any  rate,  that  he  is  getting  be-t- 
ter.  When  I  went  to  Barnuin's  the  other  night 
I  wished  that  he  might  be  riding  again  on  Jum- 
bo's back.  Indeed,  I  fancied  1  saw  Jumbo,  as  In- 
passed  by,  turn  his  \vi-e-  lil  lit-  eyes  up  toward  the 
audience,  and  then  drop  them  disconsolately,  as 
though  he  were  looking  for  somebody  who  was 
not  there-.  !)»>  y»>u  suppose,  dear  Postmistress, 
lie  was  looking  for  Johnnie  ? 

1  would  like  to  be  a  little  mouse  in  the  corner, 
and  peep  at  John's  face  when  be  finds  this  letter. 
and  calls  Gerald  to  read  it  with  him.  And  then 
I  wonder  whether  they  will  both  begin  to  think 
which  of  all  the  friends  whom  they  remember 
making  on  that  delightful  voyage  this  may  be. 


Bright  scrap-books  amuse  them  wonderfully,  and 
1  have  often  been  edilied  by  the  most  original 
descriptions  of  the  pictures. 

We-  are  having  April  showers  here,  and  the 
buds  on  the  trees  are  almost  blossoms.  I  am  so 
glad  spring  is  coming,  for  I  expect  to  have  an  en- 
joyable time  with  my  botany  and  flora.  And 
now  good-by.  LILLIAN  P. 

I  am  glad  you  go  to  the  little  sick  children  and 
do  what  you  can  to  amuse  them.  I  wonder  if 
you  will  look  in  one  of  these  days  on  "our  child" 
in  Young  People's  Cot  •• 


MERAN.  TYROL. 

You  say  you  would  like  to  hear  how  boys  spend 
their  study  and  play  hours.  I  get  up  at  eight 
o'clock,  and  commence  my  lessons  at  nine.  I 
have  English  and  Bible  history  from  my  mam- 
ma, and  German.  French,  history,  geography, 
arithmetic,  and  penmanship  from  a  private  teach- 
er. I  have  most  of  the  afternoon  free,  and  gen- 
erally read  or  play. 

Meran  lies  in  Tyred,  and  is  a  winter  resort  for 
sick  people.  The  Tyrolese  dress  very  funnily. 
The  men  wear  short  leather  pants  reaching  to 
the  knees,  a  broad  black  leather  belt  embroider- 
ed with  while,  a  very  short-waisted  brown  coat 
with  red  lapels,  no  vest,  but  broad  green  sus- 
penders, low  shoes  wilt  i  white  or  green  stockings 
tied  with  black  garters ;  their  knees  are  bare. 

The  women  \ve;ir  their  dresses  short.  The  skirt 
is  in  pleats  so  full  there  are  over  twenty  yards 
in  it.  and  they  have  a  bright-colored  handker- 
chief around  the  neck,  and  generally  a  large  blue 
apron.  EGMONT  VON  T. 


NEWARK,  NEW  JERSEY. 

How  pleasantly  one  may  make  enjoyable  ac- 
i|uaii]t:i"<  ea  all  overthe  world  through  the  Post- 
office  Box  I  assure  you  I  enjoy  the  weekly 
budget  ot  letters  nearly  as  much  as  my  own.  and 
sometimes,  after  finishing  them,  I  say,  naif-regret 
lully.  "  I  wish  I  knew  the  writers  better." 

I  sometimes  visit  the  children's  ward  of  one  of 
our  hospitals  It  is  a  bright,  cheery  place,  full  of 
pictures  and  toys,  and  pretty  plants  in  the  >iiiin\ 
windows.  The  children,  whose  little  suffering 
lunlies  are-  IneKed  under  white  coverlets,  are 
\i  rv  well  contented.  One  liltle  fellow.  Jamie  by 
inline,  is  a  reirular  little  mischief,  and  keeps  Sis- 
ler  Imsy  by  his  pranks  Another  one,  called  Os- 
e;ir.  is  so  droll!  He  is  knock-kneed,  poor  little 
'ell,  ,\v  :  and  waddling  up  to  yon.  he  will  tell  yon, 
in  shy  glee,  that  he  is  the  "  nurse's  plide."  This 
is  his  own  small  conceit,  for  no  one  ever  told 
him  Mich  a  thing.  There  is  a  brown-eyed  bo>  of 
ten  whose  leg  has  been  amputated.  It  was  piti- 
ful Io  see  him  raise-  his  ;inxioiis  eves  to  MsleT 
and  ask  how  soon  it  would  m'ow  airain. 

It  is  very  bard   to  see   little  children  suffer. 

:i    bright,  eoy.y  ward   does  not    lessen  the 

painful  fact,  although  it  does  much  to  soften  it. 


FORT  HAMILTON,  NKW  YORK  HARBOR. 

I  am  a  big  boy  six  years  old.  I  have  a  baby 
brother  Carroll :  he  is  'most  a  year  old.  I  have 
ten  little  white  chickens,  and  I  bad  a  dog  named 
Tag,  but  he  ruined  our  flowers,  and  so  I  gave  him 
away.  The  band  plays  every  morning  at  guard- 
mi  uniting,  and  Sunday  morning  we  have  inspec- 
tion. I  like  HARPEII'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much, 
and  I  expect  soon  to  see  my  letter  in  it,  and  I 
think  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are  awful  funny. 
NORTON  E.  W. 


BIIOOKLIN,  ONTARIO,  CANADA. 

Awhile  ago  I  came  across  three  of  the  longest 
words  I  ever  saw.  and  I  thought  I  would  send 
them  to  the  Post-office  Box.  Winterthurerhand- 
swersksburchenveirwartsgrupp  is  the  name  of  a 
German  organization.  A  small  Welsh  village 
is  named  l.lanfairpwllgyllgeigerpwllllandypihvgo- 
go.  OntinericatcanetanaptsrdengeaaTnphicrioratioitfs 
is  the  title  of  an  attractive  volume. 

We  have  had  a  very  cold  winter  here  in  Cana- 
da, and  there  is  still  a  great  deal  of  snow  on  the 
ground.  I  think  yours  is  a  very  nice  paper.  I 
liked  the  story  of  "  Nan"  very  much,  and  was 
sorry  when  it  ended.  Jimmy  Brown  is.  in  my 
opinion,  a  bad  boy.  and  deserves  to  be  taken  up- 
stairs.  I  pity  Sue  if  he  ever  does  go  to  live  with 
her.  ANNIE  1). 

Can  you  pronounce  those  words,  Annie?  It 
gave  me  a  headache  to  try. 


I  think  perhaps  some  of  the  little  ones  would 
like  to  hear  of  a  little  friend  of  mine  "away 
down  South  in  Dixie."  His  name  is  Will,  and 
you  must  picture  in  your  mind  a  sturdy  chap, 
sunburned  and  rough',  with  big  black  eyes,  ami 
a  very  solemn  way  of  looking  out  of  them.  lie 
is  only  live  years  old,  and  lives  in  a  pleasant  vil- 
lage, where  neighbors  are  plentiful, and  in  spite 
of  all  his  mamma  can  do  or  say  he  will  run  off 
without  permission,  and  to  her  great  sorrow,  the 
first  tiling  he  s::ys  when  he  goes  into  a  house  is  : 

"  Howdye.  Mrs. "(or  Miss).  "Have  you  got  a 

safe?"  And  when  the  lady  answers  >i-s!  he  says : 
"Let  me  see  your  safe.  I  specs  you  got  tea- 
cakes  in  it.  I's  most  starved," 

Will's  papa  lias  tried  to  correct  his  runaway 
habits,  and,  as  a  final  resort,  got  a  switch  and 
used  it  pretty  freely  on  Will's  fat  legs  :  then  told 
him  whenever  he  came  from  the  store  and  his 
boy  was  not  at  home  he  would  "repeat  the  dose." 

All  went  smoothly  for  a  few  days ;  then,  alas ! 
—I  hope  lie  forgot—Will  ran  off,  and  staid  all  the 
morning.  When  the  twelve-o'clock  bell  rang  it 
recalled  the  fact  to  our  runaway  that  papa  would 
be  home  to  dinner.  Oh.  how  his  little  feet  tlew  I 
He  was  almost  out  of  breath  as  he  ran  into  his 
mother's  room. 

"  Has  papa  come?" he  asked. 

"  Yes."  said  mamma,  with  a  sad  face. 

"  Then  take  me  in  your  lap,  for  I  specs  there's 
going  to  be  a  fuss." 

When  his  father  finished  dinner  he  came  into 
the  room  and  said  :  "Oh.  my  little  son.  why  did 
you  disobey  me  so ':  I  hate  to  punish  you." 

"Then,  papa," said  Will,  "let  me  off  this  time. 
I  couldn't  help  it.  It's  the  time  of  year  nil  boys 
run  away." 

I  do  not  know  whether  Will  got  his  whipping 
or  not.  but  I  think  the  little  folks  will  agree  it 
was  a  very  funny  excuse.  AUNT  HETTIE. 


B  I'ROVinFNcE,  RIIOIIK  ISLAM 

I  am  one  of  your  little  readers  eleve-n  years 
old.  I  send  the  true  story  of  my  pet  birds  to  the 
Post-office  Box : 

THE  SAD  STORY  OF  THE  PIPER  FAMILY. 

There  were  four  of  them  in  all — Mr.  Jack  Piper 
i  that  was  the  papa  hirdi.  Mrs  Jill  Piper,  the  mam- 
ma. Major  I'iper.  the  son.  and  Muff  Piper,  the 
daughter.  They  were  very  happy  until  death 
came  into  their  family.  The  papa  hud  had  two 
or  three  attacks  of  asthma,  lint  otic  day  lie  died. 
They  may  have  missed  Mr,  Jack,  but  they  did 
not  put  on  mourning  garment- 

l  me  day.  about  a  month  after  the  death  of  hei 
father.  Miss  Muff  quarrelled  with  her  mother,  and 
as  they  never  could  agree,  they  fell  to  fighting. 
As  Muff  was  the  spryest.  she  killed  her  mother  l>> 
pecking  her  eye  out.  Muff  did  not  seem  to  care 
much  about  her  mother's  death,  for  she  sang  in-i 
i  he  -a  me.  and  was  as  happy  as  if  her  mother  was 
living. 

We"  buried  Mrs.  Piper  in  the  garden  beside  her 
husband.  Muff  resembled  her  father  in  appear- 
ance, but  her  elispositioii  was  like  her  mother's 
She  inherited  the  same  disease  that  her  faihei 


had.  asthma,  and  in  about  two  years  after  her 
nother's  death  she  died.  Her  funeral  was  pri- 
vate. 

Then  Major  was  left  alone.  From  his  ehild- 
.jood  lie  had  been  fond  of  singing.  And  he  never 
was  happier  than  when  he  was  playing  with  his 
master.  Major's  health  is  very  good,  and  if  he 
lives  until  next  Decoration-day  he  will  be  six 
years  old.  ALICE  C.  R. 


FI,KI   WAYNE,  IMHANA. 

I  have  never  written  a  letter  to  the  Postmis- 
tress, so  I  thought  I  would  like  to  try  to  write 
one.  All  the  other  children  tell  about  their  pets, 
and  so  I  will.  I  have  three  little  chickens,  a  bird, 
jnd  a  cross  cat.  and  I  bad  a  dog  that  had  eight, 
cunning  little  puppies.  I  have  seven  dolls  ;  their 
names  are  Eva  Rosabel,  Cosette,  Marguerite,  Isa- 
bel, Rosalinda,  Georgie.  and  Jap. 

We  have  a  large  yard  and  lots  of  trees  around 
:he  house,  and  in  a  tree  near  my  window  the 
robins  always  build  their  nests  in  the  spring. 
Last  summer  a  dear  little  robin  always  flew  to 
the  top  of  the  chimney  every  night  and  morning, 
and  sang  a  sweet  little  song. 

CONSTANCE  L.  W. 


MEMPHIS,  TENNESSEE. 

1  am  a  little  girl  seven  years  old.  I  have  never 
been  to  school,  but  have  said  my  lessons  to  mam- 
ma since  I  was  five.  I  have  no  pets  except  six 
dolls  and  a  little  baby  brother  named  Herbert. 
My  aunt  Blanche  has  given  me  a  poodle  dog,  but 
it  is  too  young  to  leave  its  mother  yet. 

I  have  a  nice  swing  and  many  story-books.  I 
have  a  large  brother  too,  who  is  away  at  school. 
I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  two  years.  My  oth- 
er  letter  was  not  printed,  so  I  thought  I  would 
write  again.  I  like  "Nan,"  "  Raising  the 'Pearl.' " 
and  the  Post-office  Box  very  much.  I  hope  this 
letter  is  not  too  long  to  print.  MAUD  J. 


Lis!i>.\,  MICHIGAN. 

I  am  a  little  lame  girl  nine  years  old.  and  I  nev- 
er went  to  school  in  my  life,  but  my  sister  teach- 
es me  to  write,  and  I  read  nearly  all  the  time, 
except  when  I  am  wiping  dishes  for  mamma  or 
helping  my  sister  make  beds.  I  go  on  errands 
too.  and  hunt  hens'  eggs. 

My  papa  gets  me  a  great  many  books.  M\  fa 
vorite  ones  are  L.  M.  Alcott's  works.-md  rilt/iini'* 
Pivyrtxtt  and  ItdMnnoti  Cntxoe.  I  have  read  LittU 
Wfrinc7t  and  Little  M>  n  a  great  many  times  I 
have  a  yellow  bird  called  Trix.  and  a  red  bird 
called  Rnbie.  I  take  .s7.  Xic/tutdx,  intfc  Atrakt,  ;rnd 
your  paper.  I  watch  every  week  for  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE. FAYE  K. 


ALLEGHENY  CITY,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  go  to  school. 
I  am  in  the  Third  Reader,  ami  study  geography 
and  United  States  history,  and  I  can  do  Long  Iti 
vision.  I  have  no  pets,  for  I  have  no  room  to 
keep  them,  but  I  go  to  the  country  every  sum- 
mer to  visit  my  cousins.  There  are  three  little 
ho\s  there,  and  we  have  lots  of  fun.  Last  sum- 
mer while  I  was  there  they  had  a  pet  fox.  but  it 
got  so  cross  that  we  had  to  give  it  away.  It  hit 
the  boy  who  got  it,  on  his  nose.  Then  he  traded 
it  for  a  velocipede. 

I  have  taken  HAP.PEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since 
Christmas,  and  enjoy  reading  it  very  much.  I 
like  the  new  story  of  "Raising  the  'Pearl.'" 
Will  you  please  tell  me  how  to  keep  rabbits  in 
the  city?  FREDDIE  S.  M. 

In  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  No.  133  you  will 
find  an  article  telling  all  about  the  care  of  rab- 
bits. 


UAMWAY,  NEW  JERSEY. 

I  am  eight  years  old.  and  have  taken  HAKIM  uV 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  two  years.  I  enjoy  reading 
very  much.  I  will  give  you  a  list  of  the  books 
thai  I  have  read  :  Italiirtxun  Crusoe^The  Swiss  Fam 
Hi/  Itotrinxoii.  7'om  7M/H'/iV  *<in,<>l  Ituii;'.  Aio'iml  tin- 
World  it'  Eighty  Dinis.  Miflnnl  ,slrt,<i<tf.  Araf/iait 
Xirjlits.  Jrriiir/'g  Sketch-Book,  imr  Bays,  .1  ."•/«•//  "f 
tlit  Ciril  Wai;  Tht  Mori/  of  tin  Bible,  and  many 
others.  1  attend  the  public  school,  and  am  in 
the  grammar  department,  ready  to  begin  Frac- 
tions. MAX. 


[>EAI:  POSTMISTRESS,— My  children  being  very 
inneh  interested  in  your  department,  have  begged 
me-  to  write  to  you.  Like  all  the  e>thers.  we  find 
Y'ejtrNG  PEOPLE  a  more  than  pleasant  visitor,  and 
after  the  Jimmy  Brown  eloings  come  the-  letters. 
Those  written  by  children  from  the-  tloodeei  elis- 
tricts  were  of  more  than  ordinary  intercut.  The\ 
are  now  quite  taken  up  with  Captain  Sammy 
Basse tt  and  the  fierce  pirate  Tummy  Tucker. 

My  three  e-hildreu  attend  my  schoeil.  and  Yi>r\<. 
PEOPLE  must, of  course,  go  toei.  I  open  it  at  the 
meist  interesting  pie-ture.  pin  it  up  in  a  e-onspicu- 
ous  place,  and  many  are  the-  questions  I  have-  io 
answer  about  it.  Then  the-  emes  whe>  ha\e  l  h< 
bestt  lessons  take  it  to  read.  The-y  have-  le-arm-d 
main-  things  which  set  them  to  thinking,  ami  that 
is  what  e-hilelre-n  ne-e-el  sei  much.  At  the  time  of 
tin-  Western  Hoe  ids  I  i-e-ael  the-  sel I  se.me  of  the 

lei  ters,  and  their  lessons  were  about  that  section. 


MAY  8,  1883. 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


431 


so  they  were  open-eyed  all  through  it.  Willie  has 
written  you  u  letter,  and  I  will  send  it.  but  for 
four  that  you  can  not  read  it  I  will  copy  it 

MoTIIER. 

Thank  you  for  so  pleasant  a  letter.    Now  ev- 
erybody must  read  little  Willie's: 

I  am  seven  years  old.     IhavealittiesisterElsa 

ti\e  years  old",  and  another.  Klla.  nine  \ear-  "Id. 
and  we-  all  like  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPI.I:  verj 
iiineb  1  sift  the  coal  and  go  after  the  milk  everj 
morning.  We  had  a  pet  cat  named  Gip,  who  used 
to  open  the  door,  and  be  would  stand  on  his  hind- 
1, -sai  id  bee  for  something  to  eat.  Now  we  have 
no  pels  but  the  liens.  My  favorite  came  is  Au- 
thors, but  we  like  Hide  the  Thimble. 

WILLIE  II.  P. 


TlOGA,  PlIILADKLI-IIIJl.  PKSNStM   .  M  t 

I  am  a  little  girl  five  years  old,  I  have  no  pels 
of  my  own,  except  my  books  and  dollies,  but 
bave  lots  of  them.  My  favorite  dolly  is  little 
.leiiny  Wren  ;  my  auntie  gave  her  to  me  on  mv 
last  birthday.  Hut  my  greatest  pets  arc  my  pa 
pcrs  and  magazines.  .My  papa  lias  brought  me 
home  Yoi  N';  I'EIIPI.E  every  Wednesday  night 
since  it  was  first  printed.  Then  he  and  inamm.i 
read  every  word  for  me.  I  saved  all  the  mini 
hers,  and  on  Christmas  mamma  sent  them  to  the 
pom-  little  sick  children  at  the  hospital.  I  ha\<- 
been  wanting  to  write  to  tile  Post-office  liox  tor 
a  long  time.  I  can  hardly  wait  until  it  is  read  to 
me.  I  enjoy  it  so  much— it  and  the  Jimmy  lirowu 
stories.  I  can  not  write  myself,  so  papa  is  writ- 


ing this  forme. 


ETHEL  V. 


again, darling,  and  write  a  longer  letter. — Dayton 
W. :  You  were  a  little  man.  to  have  your  tooth 
extracted.  I  am  sure  you  did  not  cry  —  Virginia 
M.  1C.:  lie  very  careful  about  flying  around  I'M. 
last  on  your  roller  skates.  —  Dora  II.  I'.  :  Ib  >\\  ]n  r 
fcctly  delightful  to  live  where  there  are  so  many 
birds  :  The  quarrelsome  little  sparrows  drive  the 
sini:inLr-birds  away  from  my  home,  so  I  do  not 
in  in  -nch  a  chorus  as  you  do.— Dolly  It. :  Ah\  ays 
send  the  answers  to  your  puzzles  when  yon  send 
the  puzzles.  Enigmas  must  rhyme.  Very  charm- 
ing letters  h;ne  been  received  from  Allit-rt  <  .. 
Arthur  S..  S.  (i.  S..  Will  A.,  Jun..  Frank  It.,  Lulu 
II.  P..  Louis  Vi.  t .,  and  Annie  K.  P. 


TIIK  WOODSIDE  SCHOOL.— I  hope  the  children 
bave  not  forgotten  .Mrs.  nichard son's  little  scho. >1 
at  Woodside,  near  l.incolnton.  North  Carolina. 
Mrs.  Richardson  writes  that  tile  children  enjoyed 
their  Kastcr  festival  very  much.  She  wishes  to 
return  her  thanks  to  readers  of  Yot-xi:  I'mei  i: 
who  scud  books,  papers. and  needed  clothing  to 
the  poi.r  colored  people  whom  she  is  trying  to 
t.  .nli  and  help. 


(It 


AMIIV  I  -i.  M  •--  *<  til  *i  TTS. 

I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  about  a 
game  that  we  play  a  good  deal  at  home  and  also 
at  school,  called  Crambo  ivrhap-  yu  know 
what  i!  is.  Kaeh  per-on  playing  has  two  slips  of 
paper.  and  on  one  lie  writes  a  word.  ami  on  tin' 
other  a  question,  and  passes  the  word  to  the  per- 
son on  his  rigbt  band,  and  the  question  t"  tin1 
one  on  bis  lel'l  hand.  Then  you  take  \oiir  word 
ami  question  and  write  some  poetry  in  which 
you  answer  the  question  anil  put  in  the'  word. 
The  word  docs  not  have  to  come  at  the  end  of  a 
line.  Here  are  some  we  wrote  one  evening  : 

Word,  "Character."     (Jncsli  Jii,  "Are  you 

happy  t" 

How  can  I  be  happy 

\\  hen  to  school  1  must  go 
On  Monday  the  next. 

And  sil    in  a  i»w 
It    excellent    scholars, 

The   which  1  am  not  '' 

nd  this  on  my  character 

Makes  a  sad  blot. 

Word.  "Fire."    (^iic-t  i,,n.  "Do  you  believe  in 
women's  rights'.'" 

I  don't  believe  in  women's  rights: 

"1'is  not  their  place  to  go  to  lights 

or  any  other  horrid  sights; 

And  when  great  (ires  break  out. 

I  think  there  is  no  doubt 

That  women  should  stay  at  home  and  not 

pout. 

Word,  "Gondola."    Question,  "Do  you  like  to 
go  to  school  y" 

1  like  to  go  to  school  : 
I  don't  want  to  be  a  fool, 
And  so  I  mind  the  rule. 
P.nt   wdien  1  have  grown  old, 
And  also  somewhat  bold. 
And  heaped  up  lots  of  gold. 
I'll  cross  the  ocean  blue 
With  a  dear  friend  or  two. 
And  travel  Europe  through. 
I'll  sail  in  a  gondola, 
I'll  try  my  hick  on  roller 
Skates,  and  become  a  bowler. 
When  all  of  this  is  done 
I  shall  be  tired  of  fun; 
Then  I  may  turn  a  nun. 

I  think  it.  is  lots  of  fun. 

A  week  ago  to-.  lay  I  hurt  my  knee,  and  have 
been  at  home  from  school  since.  It  was  just  at 
the  he-inning  of  the  term.  I  was  so  sorry  :  Mv 
room-mates.  Fifine  D.  and  Eugenie  V..  and  myself 
bave  named  our  room  the  Northwest  Cozy  Coi- 
ner I  think  of  the  stories  that  have  been  in 
llAi:ri:r.'s  YOUNI;  PKOFLE  I  like  "Nan"  the  best. 
I  wonder  it'  you  know  who  wrote  this" 

"lie   good,  sweet  maid,  and  let   who   will  he 

clever  ; 
Do   noble   things,  not  dream  them   all  day 

IOIIL'  : 

Thus  making  life,  death,  and  that  vast  forever 
One  grand,  sweet  song." 

ANNIE  C. 

Charles  King-ley  is  the  author  of  this  pretty 
stanza.  Crambo  is  a  good  game  for  girls  and 
boys,  and  your  rhymes  are  quite  ingenious. 


Thanks.  Annie  dear,  for  your  kind  fancy  about 
the  Postmistress  and  her  looks.— Etta  A.M.:  Try 


CHOCOLATE  MIXTTRE. — Five  table-spoonfuls  of 
grated  chocolate,  with  enough  cream  or  milk  to 
wet  it.  one  capful  of  sugar,  and  one  egg  well  beat- 
en, stir  the  ingredients  over  the  fire  until  thor- 
oughly mixed  ;  then  flavor  with  vanilla. 


HKCKIPTS  FHI;  LITTLE  IIOUSKKEKPERS. 
PLAIN  OMELET. — It  is  very  easy  to  make  a  deli 

cat  i  ,il.  liciOUS  omelet,  if  you  know  how  ;  yet  half 
the  people  who  make  omelets  send  to  the  table 

tough,  leathery  ihings  of  which  my  Little  llou-e 
K,  .  pers  would  be  ashamed. 

In  the  tirst  place,  my  dears,  see  that  yon  have  a 
hot  lire,  and  a  clean  smooth  iron  spider.  Put  the 
pan  on  the  lire  tn  become  heated  :  break  tin  ,  gfg 
into  a  basin,  sprinkle  o\  i  r  t  hem  pepper  and  salt . 
and  give  them  twelve  vigorous  heals  witli  a 
spoon.  Now  put  butter  the  si/.e  of  an  egg  <  for 
live  eggsl  in  the  heated  pan;  turn  it  around  so 
that  it  will  moisten  all  the  bottom  of  the  pan. 

When  it  is  \\  ell  melt  ed.  and  /<"/</<. v  fi>  !>/></.  p<  .111-  ill 
tin'  eggs.  Holding  the  handle  of  the  omelet  pan 
in  tin  let  l  ha  ml.  carefully  and  lightly  with  a  spoon 
draw  ii])  the  whitened  egg  from  the  bottom,  so 
th.it  all  the'  eggs  ma>  lie  equal  K kei  I.  or  whit- 
ened to  a  sot!,  erealll\  snlM.iliee  N  o  u  .  still 

with  tile  left  hand,  shake  the  pan  forwanl  and 
backward,  which  will  disengage  the  eggs  from 
the  Inittom;  then  shaking  again  the  om<  lei  El 
little  one  side,  turn  with  a  spoon  half  of  one  nde 
over  the  other;  and  allowing  it  to  remain  a  mo- 
ment to  harden  a  Mule  at  the  bottom,  gently 
shaking  it  all  the  time,  to-s  it  over  on  to  a  warm 
platter  held  in  the  right  hand.  A  little  pra'  tie, 
makes  one  qn it e  dexterous  in  placing  tin-  omelet 
in  the  centre  of  the  platter,  and  turning  il  over 
as  it  is  tossed  from  the  omelet  pan.  However,  if 

on in  not  manage  the  tossing  operation,  \\  hieh 

i-  the  correct  Ihim:.  the  omelet  can  be  lifted  to 
the  platter  with  a  pancake-turner.  It  should  be 
creamy  :i ml  light  in  the  centre,  and  more  linn  on 
the  outside. 

POT\TOI:S  IN  C\SK-  The  following  is  a  nice 
way  of  serving  baked  potatoes.  Hake  potatoes 
of  equal  si^e.  and  when  done,  and  still  hot,  cut 

off  a  small  piece  from  each  potato;  s p  out 

can-fully  the  inside,  leaving  the  skin  unbroken  ; 
ma-li  the  potato  well,  seasoning  it  with  plenty 
of  butter,  pepper,  and  salt :  return  it  with  a  spoon 
to  the  potato  skin,  allowing  it  to  protrude  about 
an  inch  above  the  skin.  When  enough  skins  are 
filled,  use  a  fork  or  knife  to  make  rough  the  po- 
tato which  projects  above  the  skin;  put  all  into 
the  oven  a  minute  to  color  the  tops.  They  will 
have  the  appearance  of  haked  potatoes  burst 
open. 

SNOW  POTATOES.— These  are  mashed  potatoes 
pressed  through  a  colander  into  a  dish  in  which 
they  are  to  In-  served.  The  potatoes  then  re- 
semble rice  or  vermicelli,  and  are  very  light  and 
nice.  They  make  a  pretty  dish,  and  must  be 
served  very  hot. 

CHOCOLATE  CAKE. — Make  a  cup  cake  with  the 
following  ingredients  :  one  cupful  of  butter,  two 
cnpfuls  of  smrar.  three  cnpfuls  of  flour,  one  cup 
fid  of  milk,  four  eggs  beaten  separately,  one  tea- 
spoonful  of  soda,  two  tea-spoonfuls  of  cream  of 

tartar  or  two   tea-s| nfllls    of  yeast   powder: 

cut  the  cup  cake,  when  baked,  through  the  mid- 
dle, or  bake  it  in  two  or  three  parts  ;  put  a  layer 
of  the  chocolate  mixture  between  and  on  the  top 
and  sides  of  the  cake. 


PUZZLES  FHO.M  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

GEOGRAPHICAL  ACROSTIC. 

Take  four  peninsulas  of  Europe  and  one  of  Asia, 
.-.ml  arrange  them  in  such  order  that  their  initial 
letters  shall  spell  the  name  of  a  fifth  peninsula  of 
F.urope.  KING  CHARLES. 


No.  2. 

INVERTED   PYRAMID. 

Across.— 1.  Sea-robbers.  2.  Weary.  8.  A  piece 
of  furniture.  4.  A  letter. 

Down.-l.  A  letter.  2.  A  pronoun.  3.  A  part 
of  tin- body.  4.  A  space.  5.  A  boy's  name.  6.  A 
nickname.  7.  A  letter.  TIM  AND  TIP. 


No.  3. 

AN    EASY    SQUARE. 

1.  To  expose  to  heat.     2.  An  Oriental.     8.  A 
lady's  name.    4.  A  gentleman's  name. 

TIM  AND  TIP. 


No.  4. 

TWO    NfMEIUCAI.    ENIGMAS. 

1.  I  am  composed  of  P-'  letters,  and  am  the  In- 
dian nam.'  for  Mini   b'iver.  in  Georgia. 
My  in.  s. '.i.  II  means  to  hunt. 
My  •-.'. 4, :!,  .">  is  a  musical  instrument. 
Mil.  :l.  4.  7  is  the  gait  of  a  horse. 
Mi  •.'.  I-.'.  I  i-  a  coM-ring. 
My  o  -'.  :i.  I.  1','.  1  is  part  of  an  animal. 
My  Ii,  ."'. ;  is  a  \cry  small  insect. 

G.B.  LAMAII,  JUN. 

•.'.  I  am  composed  of  in  letters,  and  am  the  title 

ol  a  Storj    ill  "1  01  N.,  Pi  OIM.E. 

My  P.I.  17.  K.  IS  is  to  throw  into  the  air. 

M\  P',.  :.  l'.'  is  lo  strike. 

Mv  l.."i.  U.K.  1  is  a  bard  surface. 

My  2.  in.  P.I  is  not  cold. 

My  II. '.  If.  is  a  tropical  fruit. 

Mv  t.  Hi.  :i.  '.i.  s.  1 1  is  a  dairy  product. 

My  i:;.  17  is  an  exclamation,  MARY  E.  K. 


No.  .1. 

KN  I  c  M  A. 

M\    first  is  in  give,  but  not  in  take. 

M\   sec I  is  ill  river,  but  not  ill  lake. 

My  third  is  in  moon,  but  not  in  sun. 
My  fourth  is  in  lope,  but  not  in  run. 
My  fifth  is  in  mind,  but  not  in  heart. 
My  sixth  is  in  token,  but  not  in  dart. 
Mv  whole  is  as  sweet  as  sweet  can  be 
When  handled  with  care  and  cleverly. 
CLARENCE  WENDELL- 


NO.  C. 

AN    EASY    DIAMOND. 

1.  A  consonant.  2.  A  kind  of  dessert.  3.  A 
musical  instrument.  4.  A  conclusion.  5.  A  vow- 
el. ERNEST  WENDELL. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  181 
No.  1.  Cartago.    Tolima.    Itacolumi.    Jungfrau. 
Kapitan.    Opureona. 


No.  2. 


No.  ". 


No.  4. 


U  lysse  S 
N  o  T 
I  ow  A 
T  oo  T 
E  v  E 
D  uck  S 


A 

A  <;  E 

A   <J   N    E    S 

E  K  L 

S 


T 
POT 


T  O  K    I   O 

T    I    P 

O 


Pyramids  of  Egypt. 


Correci  answers  to  pn/zles  have  been  received 
from  Seven  Oaks.  Ernest  Wolkwitz,  Allan  Shep- 
herd. Nancy  .1  .  Jennie  M..  c.  De  (Janu-ne,  Susie. 
Dean.  John'  Roper.  John  Benson.  Roger  Tallbot, 
William  \\ils. m.  Emily  Hayes.  Alice  and  Jessie 
Knox.  Fannie  Fraser.  Albert  Curtis.  Maud  Nick- 
erson.  Annie  J.  I-'orster,  liessy  W..  Joseph  Low, 
r.crt  Wheeler. Theodore  and  Van  Cott  D..  Thom- 
as W.  chambliss.  Princess  Daisy,  Vermin  How- 
ard, and  Floy  Hartley. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2rf  and  3d  pages  of  cover.} 


432 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  CAT  AND  A  CATCH. 

BY   EDWARD   I.  STEVENSON. 

NOT  long  ago  a  distinguished  writer  on  animals  ami  their 
intelligence  declared  that  in  his  judgment  the  cat  was 
naturally  more  clever  at  lifting  a  latch,  unfastening  a  gate,  or, 
in  fact,  getting  over  any  little  difficulties  in  its  way,  than  a  dog. 
The  following  true  story  is  an  argument.  Harry  was  a  very 
pretty  white  and  Maltese  eat,  with  bright  eyes  and  a  delightful 
purr — «•«*,  poor  fellow !  for  lie  is  no  more. 


During  the  jnonth  of  December,  187-,  a  small  basement 
window  in  the  kitchen  of  Harry's  master  was  found  open 
night  after  night.  The  servants  were  questioned,  and  each 
time  were  positive  that  the  mysterious  window  had  not  only 
been  tightly  shut,  but  locked,  before  the  kitchen  was  left  to 
itself.  Water-pipes  froze,  rain  drenched  the  floor,  lectures 
followed;  still  the  window  was  discovered  unlocked  and  open 
when  morning  brought  down  the  maids  to  light  the  tires. 

One  cold  afternoon  Harry's  mistress  was  directing  a 
plumber  in  the  kitchen.  Presently  the  cat's  cry  was  heard 
outside,  and  in  a  moment  Harry  was  seen  pleading  at  that 
identical  window  for  entrance  to  the  joys  of  the  hearth.  "  Go 
away,  Harry,"  said  his  hard-hearted  friend  ;  "  you  must  wait 
until  I  get  ready  to  open  the  door  for  yon."  What  was  her 
surprise  to  behold  Harry,  after  a  few  minutes  longer  of  en- 
treaty, lying  flat  down  with  his  back  to  the  window  and 
against  its  panes. 

Paying  no  regard  to  her  presence,  he  Viegan  dashing  his 
fat  legs  and  body  violently  against  the  sash,  when,  utterly  to 
her  astonishment,  the  simple  lock  sprung  back.  He  had,  then, 
long  ago  found  out  that  it  would  act  thus !  The  instant  he  heard, 
its  click,  and  knew  that  his  barrier  to  comfort  was  uncaiight. 
Harry  pushed  up  the  easy-sliding  window  with  his  hind-legs  in 
a  twinkling,  and  stood  purring  within  it,  on  the  sill,  before  the 
open-mouthed  spectators.  The  secret  of  the  window  was  out ! 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  when  this  story  was  first 
told  by  them  nobody  would  believe  it  to  be  a  fact.  The  remark- 
able feat  was,  however,  repeated  by  Harry  several  times  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  doubters,  one  of  whom  was  the  writer. 


,-tk  ^-  B  -"-  ^.  f     .£A  J  °  \e'\ 


A    FAMILIAR   SPRING    PICTURE    IN    CENTRAL    PARK. 
Old  John  and  his  Charges— 10  A.M. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANi    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  185. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  May  15, 1883. 


Copyright,  1833,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHER*. 


81.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


CAST  AWAY  IX  A  TREE. 

BY  F.  B.  STANFOKI). 

IT  had  been  raining1  three  or  four  days — raining1  h:ml. 
Down  on  the  rim  of  the  ocean  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Casco  Bay, "where  theTopham  School  was  encamped, 
it  seemed  to  several  impatient  hoys  that  it  would  never 
cease  raining1. 

Some  of  them  had  been  planning  to  explore  the  MUM  II 
islands  in  the  hay;  others  had  in  view  M  visit  to  a  fort 
two  or  three  miles  away;  and  Foo  Tonir,  a  ( 'liinese  lad 
who  was  a  pupil  in  the  school,  wanted  to  take  a  cruise 
to  a  neighboring  beach  in  search  of  specimen  shells. 
Indeed,  each  and  all  the  boys  of  the  school  had  some 
project  to  carry  out  when  the  sky  becMTne  clear. 

Finally  Foo  Tong  became  impatient,  and  concluded 
not  to  wait  any  longer.  Rain  or  shine,  he  meant  ti> 
venture  forth  in  a  dory  of  one  of  the  fishermen. 
Hence,  as  might  have  been  expected,  a  catastrophe  fol- 
lowed. 

Foo  Tong  was  not  much  of  a  sailor,  and  he  therefore 
induced   Napoleon  Bonaparte  Pickens,  a  colored  hoy, 
who  was  chief  lieutenant  to  the  camp  cook,  to  go  with 
him  and  manage  the  dory. 
The  two   stole   away  from 
the  camp  unobserved,  and 
met  in  a  cove  where   the 
boat  was  fastened. 

"  No  goodee  watching 
rain  allee  time,"  said  Foo. 
"Me  wantee  more  great 
fun." 

"  We's  jes'  gwine  to  hab 
it,  an'  110  mistake,"  Nap  re- 
plied. "I's  ben  achiii'  a 
whole  week  to  try  dis  yere 
dory." 

Both  made  haste  to  un- 
tie the  dory ;  and  in  anoth- 
er moment,  after  taking 
aboard  Nap's  dog  Gip,  they 
pushed  oft'  from  the  shore. 
Although  it  was  raining, 
the  bay  was  calm,  and  it 
was  not  difficult  to  row  or 
to  keep  the  boat  pointed  in 
any  direction  desired.  But 
had  either  of  the  boys  real- 
ly been  accustomed  to  liv- 
ing near  the  sea,  he  would 
have  noticed  that  a  thick 


FOO  AND 


TAKE  REFUGE  IN  THE  TREE. 


434 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


VOLUME  IV. 


fog  was  threatening  in  the  distance,  and  been  more  cau- 
tious. 

"  Jes'  you  steer  wid  de  paddle,  Chinesey,  an'  leabe  de 
rest  to  me,"  said  Nap.  "I  know  what  I's  'bout  when  I 
gits  in  a  boat.  Keep  her  headed  for  de  p'int  right  afore 
yer  nose." 

Foo  was  quite  willing  to  do  as  he  was  bidden,  especial- 
ly as  Nap  performed  the  hardest  part  of  the  labor;  and  as 
he  had  not  yet  mastered  much  of  the  English  language, 
he  also  let  Nap  do  most  of  the  talking. 

In  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  they  reached  the 
beach  for  which  they  had  set  out,  and  drew  the  dory  high 
and  dry  on  the  sand.  Then  Nap  went  to  work,  assisted 
by  Gip,  digging  clams,  while  Foo  wandered  off  in  search 
of  shells.  The  afternoon  undoubtedly  would  have  pass- 
ed pleasantly  enough,  and  everything  would  have  turned 
out  quite  as  intended,  if  that  dense  fog,  which  was  ap- 
proaching slowly  and  surely  every  moment,  had  kept  out 
of  the  way.  Nap  did  not  notice  it  until  it  began  to  gather 
around  him,  and  then  he  did  not  stop  to  think  much  about 
it.  Clams,  big  and  little,  were  engaging  his  attention  just 
then ;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  filled  his  hat  with  them  he 
kindled  a  fire  and  proceeded  to  roast  them. 

"  Guess  we'll  hab  a  little  clam  bake  on  our  own  hook, 
Chinesey,"  he  said. 

"Fire  much  gooclee,"  Foo  answered,  running  up  to  it 
a  moment,  and  choking  with  his  mouth  full  of  smoke. 
"Big  fun.  Hi!  hi!" 

Gip  barked;  Nap  heaped  the  crackling  fire  with  wet 
drift-wood,  and  Foo  ran  hither  and  thither  picking  up 
every  shell  and  pebble  that  chanced  to  please  him.  By- 
and-by,  however,  Gip  heard  the  sound  of  a  bell  some- 
where in  the  distance,  and  suddenly  became  melancholy, 
as  dogs  sometimes  do  when  they  hear  bells.  Sitting  down, 
he  howled  loud  and  dismally. 

''Shut  yer  mouth,  you  ole  pup,"  Nap  commanded,  sav- 
agely. 

But  Gip  could  not  be  silenced  so  easily.  He  trotted 
away  a  rod  or  two,  and  began  howling  again. 

"Golly,  it's  de  fog-bell  ober  on  de  Cape!"  Nap  said  to 
himself,  after  listening  a  minute.  "  We's  in  a  scrape. 
Hey,  Chiuesey!  Chinesey!" 

Foo  appeared  shortly,  out  of  breath  and  rather  startled. 

"Hurry  up  an'  help  pull  de  dory  into  de  water,"  said 
Nap,  tugging  at  the  boat.  ' '  Time  we's  a-gittin1  up  an' 
gittin'.  I  reckon." 

"  What  for  go?"  Foo  asked,  surprised. 

"Too  muchee  fog,  Chinesey,"  Nap  explained. 

"  Ho!  ho !  fog  no  hurt,"  said  Foo,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders as  usual. 

"You  am  only  a  goose,  I  guess.  Catch  a  holt  ob  de 
boat  quick.  Do  you  hear?" 

"  No,  siree.  you  no  bossee  me,"  Foo  answered,  stubborn- 
ly. "Me  not  go  now.  Me  huntee  more  shells." 

Nap  stood  up  straight,  pulled  his  tattered  old  hat  firm- 
ly on  his  head,  and  placed  his  arms  akimbo. 

"  Look  a-yere  now,  Foo  Tong,  you  jes'  better,  beliebe  I's 
a-gwine  for  to  be  cap'en  ob  dis  boat.  You  help  me  git 
her  into  de  water  dis  minute." 

Foo  shrugged  his  shoulders  again.  "Me  no  speakee 
English,"  he  said.  "Me  no  undei'stand." 

It  did  not  take  more  than  three  seconds  more,  though, 
for  him  to  learn  what  Nap  meant,  and  hastily  dropping 
the  shells  he  held,  he  assisted  to  draw  the  boat  to  the  wa- 
ter. Then  he  stuffed  his  pockets  with  his  treasures,  and 
sat  down  in  the  stern. 

The  fog  was  already  so  thick  that  nothing  could  be  seen 
in  any  direction  except  fog,  and  it  was  becoming  thicker 
and  thicker.  Nap  believed  at  first  that  he  knew  the  right 
direction  to  head  the  boat,  but  before  he  had  been  rowing 
many  minutes  he  discovered  that  he  was  not  sure  where 
they  were.  In  fact,  he  was  bewildered,  and  as  the  thought 
occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  he  was  rowing  toward  the 


open  sea  instead  of  the  mainland,  he  grew  a  trifle  fright- 
ened. 

"Chinesey,"  he  said,  in  a  scared  voice,  "I's  kinder  on- 
certain  which  way  for  to  p'int.  Mebbe's  not  we's  a-gwine 
de  t other  way,  an'  we  oughter  turn  right  round.'' 

"  You  a  great  cap'en,  you !"  Foo  said,  sullenly.  "  Row 
ahead.  Me  steer.  Me  know  which  way." 

After  these  remarks  both  remained  silent,  and  Nap  con- 
tinued to  row  with  all  his  strength  for  a  half-hour  or  more. 
The  shore,  however,  did  not  appear  to  be  any  nearer  than 
before,  and  he  finally  stopped,  discouraged,  and  allowed 
the  dory  to  drift. 

Foo  now  for  the  first  time  began  to  look  frightened. 
He  too  had  supposed  that  he  knew  the  right  direction  to 
steer,  but  he  had  found  that  he  was  mistaken.  He  saw 
that  unless  the  fog  cleared  soon  they  would  be  in  a  dan- 
gerous situation.  A  vessel  or  steamboat  coming  in  from 
sea  might  run  over  them,  or  they  might  float  out  among 
the  waves,  and  be  capsized.  He  talked  to  himself  excited- 
ly in  the  Chinese  language,  and,  standing  up,  shouted  for 
help. 

"You  am  powerful  stirred  up,  Chinesey,"  said  Nap, 
looking  at  him  with  wonder.  "  Guess  you  tink  fogee 
some  hurtee  now,  hey  ?" 

"  Row,  row  much  more,"  Foo  said,  entreatingly,  taking 
up  the  paddle  and  plying  it  desperately.  "We  try  again." 

They  turned  the  boat  and  rowed  in  another  direction  a 
long  while;  then  they  shouted  until  they  were  exhausted; 
and  at  last,  when  they  had  been  rowing  here  and  there 
two  or  three  hours,  and  it  began  to  grow  dark,  they 
gave  up  in  despair.  Foo  lay  down  in  the  stern,  coiled  his 
pigtail,  covered  his  head  with  part  of  the  loose  sack  he 
wore,  and  fell  to  wishing  that  he  was  back  in  Hong-Kong. 
Nap,  quite  tired  and  careless,  leaned  against  one  side  of 
the  boat,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep.  Gip,  in  fact,  was 
the  only  one  that  was  oil  the  watch,  and  he  sat  in  the  bow 
with  his  ears  thrown  forward,  as  if  aware  of  the  responsi- 
bility that  rested  on  him. 

A  couple  of  hours  later,  while  Nap  was  dreaming  that 
he  was  on  the  slippery  back  of  a  whale  which  was  frisk- 
ing around  at  sea,  the  dory  thumped  solidly  against  some- 
thing, Gip  growled  and  barked,  and  Nap  awoke  just  in 
time  to  see  Foo  scrambling  out  of  the  boat  and  stepping 
on  a  dark  rock. 

"  Hi!  hi!  no  drownee  me  here!"  Foo  cried,  greatly  de- 
lighted. "  Waves  no  tipee  over  big  little  rock.  Hi!  hi!" 

The  place  proved  to  be  a  small  rock  island,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  which  was  a  tall  spruce-tree.  When  Nap  had  ex- 
amined it,  he  remembered  that  he  had  seen  it  once  before 
while  sailing  with  some  of  the  boys  of  the  school.  It  was. 
near  one  side  of  the  bay,  he  believed. 

"Guess  we'll  hitch  up  yere  till  rnornin',  Chinesey,"  he 
said,  fastening  the  boat.  "Seems  to  be  better'n  loafin* 
round  on  de  water." 

"Yes,  yes,"  Foo  answered.  "  Hitchee  boat.  We  stay 
hei-e." 

It  was  so  dark  that  neither  could  see  the  other  two  y  ards 
apart;  but  the  rain  had  ceased.  Nap  squeezed  the  water 
from  his  jacket,  made  a  pillow  of  it,  and  prepared,  by  lying 
down  at  full  length  on  the  rock,  to  resume  his  slumbers. 
Foo,  after  some  moments,  also  followed  his  example.  The 
night,  however,  was  not  to  be  passed  so  easily.  Some  time 
before  morning  Gip's  barking  awoke  them,  and  they  both 
jumped  up,  rather  startled,  to  find  that  the  miniature  isl- 
and was  nearly  all  under  water.  The  tide  was  rising-  and 
covering  it ;  and,  moreover,  the  dory  had  somehow  dis- 
appeared. The  only  way  they  could  escape  the  calamity 
that  threatened  them  was  to  climb  the  tree,  which  Nap 
hastened  to  do.  But  first  he  buttoned  his  jacket  around 
Gip,  then  tied  a  strong  fishing-line  over  it;  and  when  he 
had  reached  the  lowest  limb  he  slowly  drew  the  dog  aft- 
er him.  He  then  mounted  to  a  higher  limb,  while  Foo- 
took  possession  of  the  lower  one. 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


435 


"  Reckon  you  don'  want  to  be  drownded  no  more'ii  we 
does,  do  you,  pup  ?"  he  said,  putting  one  arm  about  him. 

Gip  licked  his  hand,  and  expressed  his  gratitude  by 
w.-iirging  his  tail  in  a  thankful  manner.  Before  many 
more  hours  he  performed  a  service  also,  as  will  lie  seen, 
that  quite  paid  for  the  care  his  master  had  shown  him. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  or  more  a  faint  gleam  of  day- 
light began  to  appear ;  and  although  the  fog  still  remained, 
ii  was  not  so  thick  as  it  had  been.  Now  and  then  the 
vague  outline  of  trees  could  be  seen  in  one  direction,  not 
a  great  distance  away.  Nap  and  Foo  both  shouted  for 
help  several  times  after  they  had  distinguished  the  wel- 
come sight.  But  still  another  long  while  passed,  and  no 
one  answered. 

"  I  tell  you  I's  gittin'  tired  ob  dis,"  Nap  said  at  length. 
"Seems  dough  we  might  stay  yere  foreber.  Mebhe  de 
Professor  an'  de  boys  '11  neber  miss  us." 

Foo  said  nothing.  But  an  idea  had  occurred  to  him. 
He  could  not  speak  English,  neither  could  he  write  it;  but 
several  times  in  his  life  he  had  made  some  more' or  less 
extraordinary  attempts  at  drawing.  He  sharpened  a  lead- 
pencil  and  drew  a  crude  picture  oil  his  handkerchief  of 
the  tree  with  Nap  and  himself  among  the  limbs,  and  the 
water  surrounding  it.  When  he  had  completed  it  he 
handed  it  down  to  Nap,  who  thought  it.  looked  very  much 
like  drawings  he  had  seen  on  lea  chests. 

"Tie.  him  on  dog's  neck,"  said  Foo,  making  many  ges- 
tures with  his  hands.  "  He  swimee  over  there  ;  then,  over 
shore.  Boys  Sees  picture ;  then  come." 

The  idea  was  too  novel  for  Nap's  mind  to  grasp. 

"  ( J i lessee  pup  not  fool  'nough  to  try  dat,"  he  said. 

"Ho!  ho!  You  more  scare  than  dog.  lie  swimee  when 
you  drop  him  in  water.  I  give  you  one  dollar  to  make 
him  swimee." 

Nap  considered  the   proposal,  and   concluded   that    he- 
would  try  it.     If  ( !ip  would  not  go  he  could  manage  some- 
how to  draw  him  up  again.     After  tying  the  handkerchief 
securely  around  his  neck  he  palled  him  a,  moment  all'ec 
tionately,  and  then  dropped  him  as  easily  as  he  could. 

The  dog,  of  course,  was  greatly  surprised  by  this  tn-.il 
ment,  and  refused  to  swim  away  until  he  found  they  would 
not  aid  him.  He  then,  however,  lost  no  time  in  reaching 
the  island,  where  he  shook  off  the  water,  and  harked  back 
at  them.  When  he  grew  weary  of  doing  that  he  ran  up 
and  down  the  shore  searching  for  something  to  eat.  But 
at  last  Nap  and  Foo  lost  sight  of  him. 

Hour  after  hour  passed;  the  fog  all  vanished;  the  sun 
shone,  bright;  and  by-aud-by  the  tide  had  fallen  sufficient- 
ly to  expose  a  bit  of  the  rock  beneath  the  tree.  The  boys 
descended,  and  waited  and  waited,  impatiently  and  des- 
perately hungry.  The  forenoon  seemed  a  year  long,  and 
the  afternoon  equal  to  three  or  four  years.  But  both  pass- 
ed somehow;  it  grew  dark,  and  the  rising  tide  again  drove 
them  up  the  tree. 

Perhaps  if  it  had  not  been  for  Gip  the  catastrophe  might 
have  had  a  very  serious  ending.  How  he  spent  the  day 
nobody  ever  knew ;  but  he  made  his  appearance  among  tin- 
boys  in  the  camp  about  sunset  in  a  very  drenched  and 
soiled  condition.  The  head  master  and  all  the  school  had 
been  searching  high  and  low  the  most  of  the  day  for  the 
missing  boys;  and  when  Foo  Tong's  handkerchief  was 
found  around  the  dog's  neck  there  was  much  excitement. 
An  old  fisherman  to  whom  it  was  shown  said  "  he  guessed 
the  China  boy  meant  that  they  was  on  One-tree  Island," 
and  an  expedition  was  fitted  out  immediately  to  go  in 
search  of  them. 

At  last  Foo  and  Nap  saw  a  light  approaching  over  the 
water;  then  they  heard  the  dip  of  the  oars,  and  a  few  min- 
utes afterward  they  were  rescued. 

"Golly!"  said  Nap,  as  soon  as  he  reali/.ed  that  he  was 
safe,  "you  don1  catch  me  a-gwiiie  to  sea  agin  in  dis  yere 
bay." 

"  Not  muchee !"  said  Foo,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 


LITTLE  GIRL  AND  LITTLE  BROOK. 

J'.Y  MARGARET  EYTINi.i: 

'•  T  ITTLE  brook,  little  brook,  why  are  you  always  singing  ?" 

i  A  "  Because  in  early  morning  all  the  flower  helU  are   ringing 
To  waken  bees  and  hiitterllies,  ami   l>iil  them  journey  over 
The  fields  through  which  I  How,  win-re  grow  the  daisies  and  the  clover; 
Because  the  live-long  day  the  liinls   from   tree  to  tree  are  calling, 
And  now  and  then  in  dancing  drops  the  sparkling  rain  is  falling; 
Because  when  comes  the  night  the  moon  and  stars  are  brightly  beaming 
Upon  their  fair  reflections   in  my  silvered   waters  teaming; 
Because  I'm  happy,  little  girl ;   and  that  is  why  I'm  singing." 

"Little  brook,  little  brook,  if  you  find  so  much  gladness, 

Why,  surely  I  should   know   no  single  thought  of  sadness; 

For  all  von   have   I   have — green   fields  and   butterflies  and  flowers, 

And  bees  and  bird",  ami  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  and  pleasant  showers; 

And   then   I  have — and  this  is   far  beyond  all  other  blisses — 

A  darling  mother,  little  brook,  who  gives  me  smiles  and  kisses." 


MR.  THOMPSON  AND  THE  FIELD-MICE. 

BY  ALLAN  FORMAN. 

MR.  THOMPSON  lay  under  the  hedge  by  the  wheat 
field.  He  had  left  the  house,  because  the  piazza  was 
crowded  with  summer  boarders,  and  the  chatter  of  the 
young  ladies  disturbed  his  thoughts,  he  said.  What  he 
was  thinking  ahout  he  did  not  tell,  but  he  carried  with 
him  a  large  book  called  The  Natural  History  of  Roden- 
I iii,  and  bad  his  linger  upon  the  article  on  Field-Mice. 

He  read  for  a  few  moments  after  he  had  settled  himself 
comfortably  in  the  shade  of  the  hedge;  then  he  shut  the 
book,  and  gazing  out  over  the  swaying  field  of  golden 
grain,  he  murmured  to  himself:  "Field-mice!  They  must 
be  curious  little  animals.  They  do  not  seem  to  do  any 
harm.  I  wonder  what,  they  live  on  .'" 

"Wheat,"  piped  a  small  voice  near  his  foot. 

"  What  '"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  somewhat  startled. 

"Wheat,"  repeated  the  small  voice. 

Mr.  Thompson  looked  down.  There  close  by  his  foot 
sat  the  cunningest  little-  mouse  you  could  imagine.  He 
was  but  little  over  an  inch  long,  and  he  had  very  bright 
e\  es  a  ml  a  very  long  curly  tail,  and  he  sat  up  on  his  hind- 
legs  and  winked  knowingly  at  Mr.  Thompson. 

"Wheat— we  live  on  wheat,"  he  repeated,  with  a  shrill 
little  giggle  at  Mr.  Thompson's  surprise. 

Mr.  Thompson  stared  at  the  tiny  creature  in  amaze- 
ment, then  asked, 

' '  What  do  you  live  on  after  the  wheat  is  gone  ?" 

"Corn,"  squeaked  the  mouse. 

"But  corn  don't  last  always,"  objected  Mr.  Thompson. 
"  What  do  you  do  in  the  winter  ?" 

"Sleep,"  replied  the  field-mouse,  cheerfully.  "We  go 
under-ground  and  sleep.  Now  there  is  our  cousin  the 
big  field-mouse ;  he  lays  up  a  store  of  eatables  for  the  win- 
ter. And  as  for  our  other  cousin  the  house  mouse,  I  don't 
believe  he  sleeps  at  all." 

"I  don't  believe  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  shaking 
his  head,  as  he  thought  of  the  sleepless  nights  he  had 
passed  while  the  mice  were  holding  high  carnival  in  the 
walls.  "Where  do  you  live  ?"  he  asked. 

"Over  here  in  the  wheat.  Come  over  and  see,"  an- 
swered the  mouse.  "Not  that  way,"  he  added,  laughing, 
as  Mr.  Thompson  started  to  rise. 

The  mouse  ran  up  Mr.  Thompson's  arm.  and  sat  on  his 
head.  It  seemed  as  if  he  weighed  a  ton,  and  Mr.  Thomp- 
son slowly  began  to  grow  smaller  and  smaller.  His  al- 
paca duster  was  just  the  right  color  for  the  mouse's  back, 
and  his  white  vest  did  not  change  in  hue,  though  it  was 
of  soft  fur,  instead  of  cotton  duck.  Mr.  Thompson  looked 
at  himself  approvingly.  He  really  made  a  very  hand- 
some mouse,  and  he  switched  his  long  tail  jauntily  as  he 
followed  his  new-found  friend.  They  threaded  their  way 
in  and  out  among  the  wheat  stalks,  which  seemed  like 
large  trees  now,  till  at  last  the  mouse  paused,  and  said, 

"  There  is  my  house  up  there." 


436 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


JV'/f 

«^ 
'"\r-ST  . '<bi  ->r<. 


!t-r>  *'.u'.'  '''•       ---^-V ^^-  —      - _-=^l^-^'^^M^g=g^&'- ^         "     v  >/A" 


LITTLE    FANNIE    AND    HER    PETS. 


About  eighteen  inches  from  the  ground  three  or  four 
wheat  stalks  were  brought  together,  and  between  them 
there  hung  a  ball  of  dried  grass  and  long  horse-hairs  about 
as  big  as  a  base-ball,  curiously  woven  together,  making  a 
solid  nest.  The  mouse  ran  lightly  up  the  stalk,  and  Mr. 
Thompson  followed.  On  one  side  of  the  ball  there  was  a 
small  hole.  Into  this  the  mouse  went,  and  Mr.  Thompson 
followed.  Inside  was  Mrs.  Mouse  and  six  children.  Mr. 
Thompson  staid  in  the  nest  but  a  moment,  for  it  was  small, 
and  the  apartment  was  crowded.  After  coming  down 
and  complimenting  the  mouse  upon  the  beauty  of  his 
dwelling  and  its  inmates,  he  sat  down,  and  prepared  to 
question  his  companion. 

"You  spoke  of  your  cousin  the  large  field-mouse.  Does 
he  live  in  the  same  way  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  replied  the  mouse;  "he  lives  on  the  ground. 
He  makes  his  nest  of  grass;  but  as  he  is  so  much  larger 
than  I  am,  he  could  not  run  up  the  wheat  stalk  as  I  do. 
I  have  another  cousin,  the  short-tailed  or  black  mouse, 
but  we  are  not  very  proud  of  him.  He  lives  in  the  ground 
all  the  year  round,  and  steals  anything  he  can  lay  his 
paws  on.  Then  in  the  winter  he  will  eat  off  the  bark  all 
around  a  young  apple-tree,  and  kill  it.  That  is  the  reason 
why  people  dislike  us.  We  don't  do  any  harm,  but  the 
black  mouse  and  the  house  mouse  are  so  wicked  that  we 
have  to  suffer  for  their  faults.  But  here  comes  one  of  my 
cousins  from  the  house.  I'll  introduce  you  to  him." 

After  the  introduction  was  over,  the  house  mouse 
said: 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  walk  down  to  the  barn  and 
see  how  we  live  there  ?  We  have  rare  sport,  I  assure 
you." 

"  I  should  like  to  do  so  very  much,"  replied  Mr.  Thomp- 
son. "I  have  been  greatly  interested  in  your  cousin's 
house." 

"  Pooh !"  said  the  house  mouse.  "That  is  nothing.  I 
live  in  the  lumber-room,  next  to  the  granary.  There  are 
several  families  of  us  there,  and  I  can  assure  you  we  have 
some  queer  dwelling-places.  My  nest  is  in  an  old  boot. 
I  have  a  friend  who  lives  in  a  tea-kettle,  and  another  has 
a  splendid  place  in  an  old  cushion." 

They  trotted  along  as  they  talked,  and  soon  reached  the 
granary.  Here  Mr.  Thompson  saw  the  nests,  and  was 
much  interested  in  one  enterprising  individual  who  had 
taken  possession  of  an  old  jug  which  was  lying  on  its  side. 
He  had  filled  it  with  paper  and  corn  silk,  and  boasted  that 
he  had  the  warmest  house  in  the  lumber-room. 

"I  was  a  little  afraid  of  it  at  first,  though,"'  lie  said, 
"for  I  had  a  brother  who  crawled  into  one  of  those  big 


humming-tops,  and  couldn't  get  out.  You  see,  when- 
ever he  tried  to  get  to  the  hole  it  would  roll  over,  and 
so  he  was  unable  to  escape.  He  had  been  in  it  all  day, 
when  the  nurse-girl  came  to  find  the  top,  and  as  she 
came  up  the  stairs  he  happened  to  move,  so  that  the  top 
rolled  toward  her.  She  was  dreadfully  frightened,  and 
ran  to  the  house,  screaming  that  the  top  was  bewitched. 
Then  they  came  out  and  took  the  top  away,  and  I  have 
never  seen  him  since." 

Mr.  Thompson  remembered  the  circumstance,  and 
how  the  mouse  had  been  shaken  from  the  top  into  the 
clutches  of  the  cat,  but  he  said  nothing.  After  he  had 
looked  around  to  his  satisfaction  he  retraced  his  steps 
to  the  wheat  field.  His  friend  the  field-mouse  was 
waiting  for  him. 

"What  do  you  think  of  living  in  the  granary?"  he 
inquired,  as  Mr.  Thompson  seated  himself. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Thompson,  reflectively,  "I 
should  think  it  would  be  more  dangerous.  The  cat  is 
around  all  the  time,  and  the  folks  set  traps,  and  it  is  so 
much  used  by  the  men  that  I  should  think  it  would 
not  be  a  very  good  place." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  field-mouse;  "but  then  the  cats 
come  here  too,  and  the  hawks  and  the  weasels,  and  in 
the  night  the  owls.    So  you  see  we  have  a  pretty  hard  time 
of  it.     There  was  one  nice  man,  though,"  he  added,  re- 
flectively. 

"Who  was  that  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Thompson. 
"That  Scotch  poet  Burns.     Haven't  you  read  his  poem 
to  a  mouse  ?     But  here  comes  a  young  lady.      Now  you 
will  see  some  fun."     And  the  mouse's  little  black  eyes 
twinkled  with  mischief  as  he  rushed  toward  the  bars. 

Mr.  Thompson  looked  around ;  it  was  too  late.  The 
young  lady  was  his  beloved  Angelina.  The  mouse  dashed 
at  her  furiously.  She  saw  him  coming,  and  jumped  fran- 
tically toward  a  rock,  uttering  a  series  of  screams  which 
would  do  credit  to  a  steam  calliope. 

The  next  thing  Mr.  Thompson  knew,  he  was  at  her  side, 
and  she  had  fainted  in  his  arms.  It  was  the  work  of  some 
time  to  revive  her ;  and  as  Mr.  Thompson  gathered  up  her 
parasol  and  fan,  which  she  had  dropped  in  her  alarm,  and 
assisted  her  faltering  steps  homeward,  he  made  a  solemn 
vow  never  again  to  be  a  mouse,  since  the  inoffensive  ani- 
mal carried  such  terror  to  the  feminine  heart. 


TOM  FAIRWEATHER 
AT  ADEN. 

BY  LIEUTENANT  E.  W.  STURDY, 
U.S.N. 

next  port  made  by  the  ves- 
sel upon  which  Tom  Fair- 
weather  was  so  active 
and  interested  a  passen- 
ger was  Aden.  Tom  had 
been  told  that  Aden  was 
called  the  Gibraltar  of 
the  East,  so  that  he  was 
prepared  for  frowning 
rocks  and  natural  for- 
tresses when  his  father's 
ship  steamed  into  the  bay. 
But  he  was  not  prepared 
for  anything  quite  so 
black  and  barren  as  greet- 
ed him.  Lieutenant  Jol- 
lytarre  was  leaning  with 
him  over  the  ship's  side. 
"I  never  saw  such  black  hills,"  said  Tom.  "They 
look  as  though  they  had  just  been  thrown  up  by  an  earth- 
quake." 

"And  so  they  were,  only  longer  ago  than  you  and  I 
could  count.      You  see  their  forms  show  all  the  violence 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


437 


of  the  convulsion  which  created  them — heaps  of  burned 
fragments,  cliffs  divided  by  deep  fissures,  and  sharp  peaks 
shooting  upward.  Perhaps  the  fires  are  still  raging  with- 
in their  sides." 

"I  shouldn't  like  to  live  here.  I  should  be  afraid  of  an 
outburst  any  day." 

''That  has  not  happened  for  a  long  time.  I  suppose 
the  earth's  fury  is  gradually  dying  out.  But  take  it  all 
in  all,  tlic  other  nickname  by  which  Aden  is  known  suits 
it  the  best;  it  is  quite  often  called  'the  coal-hole  of  tin- 
East.'" 

"And  I  don't  know  anything  it  looks  more  like,"  quoth 
Tom. 

'•  Yes,  it  is  a  good  name,  and  for  other  reasons.  A 
great  quantity  of  coal  is  stored  here,  belonging  chiefly  to 
steam-ship  companies.  Aden  drives  a  nourishing  trade 
from  the  fact  that  it  is  a  free  port.  It  has  almost  ruined 
Mocha  by  taking  away  a  great  deal  of  the  coffee  trade 
from  there.  It  exports  also  honey,  gum.  feathers,  dyes, 
pearls,  and  ivory.  Of  course  it  imports  but  little  besides 
coal,  wines,  liquors,  and  some  coai-se  cotton  goods." 

"To  say  nothing  of  very  bad  tobacco,"  said  Captain 
Fairvveather,  joining  them.  "The  worst  lever  smoked 
came  from  Aden." 

All  this  time  they  were  steaming  into  Aden  |:,i\. 
When  they  had  come  to  anchor,  Tom's  I'atber  sng^esied 
that  he  should  goon  shore  ut  mice  with  Jollytarre.  Tom, 
you  know,  was  always  wild  for  the  first  ehanre  ID  stretch 
his  legs.  They  were  landed  by  one  of  the  ship's  boats  at  a 
fine  pier,  and  found  them 
selves  in  a  village  skirtimc 
one  side  of  the  harbor. 

"This  is  not  Aden  pro- 
per," explained  the  Lieu- 
tenant ;  "  that  lies  beyond, 
three  or  four  miles  across 
the  peninsula.  We'll  want 
a  carriage  to  drive  there 
in." 

They  stopped  a  moment 
and  looked  about  them.  Im- 
mediately they  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  per- 
sons eager  to  supply  fif- 
ty imaginary  wants.  One 
Arab  urged  them  to  buy 
ostrich  feathers  ;  another 
wished  to  rent  them  horses. 

"I  can't  stand  this,"  said 
Mr.  Jolly tarre.  "  Life  is 
short,  and  as  we  only  came 
here  for  coal,  and  are  to 
leave  to-morrow,  we  must 
make  the  most  of  our  time. 
Good!  there's  a  carriage;" 
and  Jollytarre  concluded 
the  bargain  forthwith. 

The  road  from  the  inner 
harbor  across  to  old  Aden 
is  of  sand  and  volcanic  cin- 
ders. It  lay  between  black 
scorched  hills  and  over  blis- 
tering sand.  The  place  re- 
minded Tom  of  pictures  he 
had  seen  by  Dore,  who  used 
to  delight  in  such  subjects. 

Presently  they  came  to  a 
pass  cut  through  the  comb 
of  a  ridge.  It  was  closed 
by  a  heavy  double  gateway, 
and  the  wall  crossed  by  an 
arch.  A  soldier  stood  guard 
at  the  gate. 


Our  two  friends  passed  parties  of  Arabs  bringing  camel- 
loads  of  their  produce  to  market.  Tom  stared  a  good  deal. 
This  was  the  lirst  time  he  had  ever  seen  a  camel  outside  of 
a  circus,  and  he  was  both  amused  and  excited. 

"I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  get  on  one  of  them,  "said  he. 

Just  then  a  line  of  camels  coming  toward  them  was 
stopped  by  the  drivers  for  a  rest.  Mr.  Jollytarre  was  not 
slow  iii  taking  a  hint.  He  called  out  to  the  coachman  to 
stop  also.  "  I  don't  doubt  those  fellows  would  give  you  a 
lift,  Tom,"  he  said.  And  he  proceeded,  partly  by  signs 
and  partly  by  the  few  words  of  Arabic  he  had  at  his  com- 
mand, to  make  known  Tom's  wish. 

One  of  the  men  nodded  pleasantly,  and  coaxed  and  pull- 
ed his  camel  down  on  his  knees,  so  that  Tom  could  mount. 
Tom  felt  himself  rise  higher  and  higher.  The  chief  im- 
pression made  upon  him  was  of  one  prolonged  shake.  The 
camel  was  so  big,  and  it  was  so  long  before  he  steadied 
himself  on  his  legs,  that  Tom  thought  he  never  would 
stop  going  up.  Finally  the  great  creature  took  one  huge 
stride  and  then  another.  It  was  by  no  means  a  gentle 
motion.  It  was  a  swaying  from  side  to  side;  it  was  a 
pitching  forward;  it  was  t  lie  shaking  continued  ;  and,  above 
all.  there  was  the  sensation  of  being  on  the  top  of  a  very 
high  mountain. 

Mr.  Jollytarre  had  resigned  himself  to  the  idea  that 
Tom's  ride  would  be  a  prolonged  one,  but  in  fact  it  very 
soon  came  to  an  end,  for  Tom  found  the  camel  so  dirty 
that  he  was  glad  to  get  away  from  the  disagreeable  smell 
and  greasy  feeling,  and  to  return  to  his  seat  in  the  carriage. 


THE    RESERVOIRS    OP    ADEN. 


438 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Having  left  the  pass  behind  them,  the  town  of  Aden 
came  into  view.  It  lay  in  a  circular  sandy  basin,  almost 
inclosed  by  black  mountains  of  volcanic  cinder. 

Through  the  town  ran  the  dry  bed  of  a  torrent  which 
rarely  flowed,  since  it  only  rained  heavily  in  Aden  once 
or  twice  a  year. 

"Only  once  or  twice  a  year!"  repeated  Tom,  looking  at 
the  dry  river-bed ;  "  then  what  do  they  do  for  water  ?" 

i'They  would  fare  badly  enough  if  they  depended  upon 
natural  resources,"  Mr.  Jollytarre  said.  "  To  begin  with, 
all  the  water  on  the  peninsula  is  brackish.  But  they 
have  a  very  remarkable  system  of  water-works  here,  which 
we  must  take  a  look  at.  In  fact,  these  water  tanks  are 
about  the  only  objects  of  interest  in  Aden.  They  are  but 
a  short  distance  off,  and  we  may  as  well  explore  them  now." 

"When  were  these  built?"  asked  Tom,  as  they  reached 
the  reservoirs  on  the  hill-sides,  a  picture  of  which  you  see 
before  you.  "  I  suppose  in  the  year  after  the  flood." 

"Not  quite.  But  they  date  back  to  the  year  600  A.D. 
They  were  constructed  to  catch  the  water  draining  from 
the  mountains  surrounding  the  town,  reservoirs  being 
formed  011  the  mountain-sides,  and  the  overflow  from  the 
higher  ones  running  into  those  below.  Once  filled,  the 
water  would  hold  out  for  seven  years  without  a  fresh  sup- 
ply of  rain.  These  tanks  are  so  admirably  constructed 
that  the  British  government  thought  it  worth  while  to  re- 
store them,  so  that  now  they  will  hold  over  ten  million 
gallons  of  water." 

Having  made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  tanks, 
Tom  and  his  friend  returned  to  their  carriage  and  drove 
back  to  New  Aden. 

"The  Straits  of  Bab-el-Mandeb  are  over  there,"  said  the 
Lieutenant.  "  By- the- way,  they  used  to  be  called  the  Gate 
of  Tears,  from  the  number  of  wrecks  that  occurred  there 
before  navigation  was  much  studied.  Torn,  take  a  look 
around  and  see  what  a  strongly  fortified  old  place  this 
could  be  made.  From  the  beginning  of  days  in  Aden 
wars  and  rumors  of  wars  have  been  familiar  sounds  here. 
Even  after  the  place  came  into  the  possession  of  the  East 
India  Company  robbery  and  murder  were  constantly  per- 
petrated by  the  natives  in  the  town,  until  the  fortifications 
on  the  laud  side  were  completed.  After  that  there  was 
tolerable  security  inside  the  walls." 

"My  father  told  me  yesterday  that  this  harbor  was 
known  to  the  Romans,"  said  Tom,  contributing  his  bit 
of  information.  "He  says  that  the  Turks,  too,  found  it 
such  a  good  half-way  house  on  the  road  to  the  Indies  that 
they  thought  it  worth  while  to  erect  fortifications  to  keep 
it  in  their  possession." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jollytarre,  "but  nowadays  the  English 
are  famous  for  adding  to  their  real  estate  on  a  large 
scale.  There  is  a  good  story  told  of  a  former  Governor 
here.  The  island  of  Perim  is  a  barren  spot  with  a  light- 
house on  it  just  at  the  entrance  to  the  Red  Sea,  near  the 
Straits  of  Bab-el-Mandeb.  It  belongs  to  the  British,  and 
this  is  the  way  they  got  it.  A  French  Admiral  had  been 
sent  to  plant  the  French  flag  there,  and  take -possession 
in  the  name  of  France.  This  seemed  at  the  outset  plain 
sailing  enough,  but  unfortunately  on  his  way  to  the  Red 
Sea  tliis  gallant  Admiral  stopped  at  Aden,  where  the  Brit- 
ish Governor  showered  hospitality  upon  him,  and  ex- 
pressed a  great  desire  to  know  the  cause  of  the  visit.  The 
Admiral,  however,  kept  his  own  counsel  until  his  visit 
was  drawing  to  a  close.  Then,  on  the  last  evening  of 
his  stay,  after  an  uncommonly  good  dinner  at  the  Gov- 
ernor's, when,  I  suppose,  his  tongue  had  been  loosened 
with  wine,  he  confided  to  the  Englishman  that  he  should 
sail  the  next  morning  for  Perim." 

"What  a  goose '"  said  Tom. 

"No  doubt  the  Governor  thought  so  too,  for  he  lost  no 
time  in  turning  his  visitor's  folly  to  good  account.  With- 
out leaving  his  seat  at  the  table,  he  scratched  off  a  pencilled 
note  to  the  commander  of  a  ship  of  the  Indian  navy  then 


lying  in  Aden  Bay.  This  was  what  the  note  said  •  '  Get 
steam  up  with  all  speed,  and  plant  the  British  flag  on 
Perim  Island.'  " 

"  Good  for  him !"  cried  Tom. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so.  At  all  events,  the  steamer  was  off 
before  the  Admiral  went  to  bed,  and  in  about  eight  hours 
Periui  was  a  British  island,  as  the  Frenchman  found  when 
he  arrived  there  next  morning." 

"  Poor  old  fellow !  I  wonder  what  they  did  to  him  for 
being  caught  napping  ?" 

' '  History  doesn't  say.  But  here  we  are  at  the  pier,  and 
there  is  the  boat." 

RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      JAMES      OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TOBY  TYLER,"  "  TIM  AND  TIP,"  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XI.—  (Contiit tied.) 
HIGH  AND    DRY. 

injury  the  Pearl  had  received  was  found  to  be  far 
_L  less  than  had  been  supposed.  She  had  been  badly 
stove  in  at  the  bow,  but  the  bottom  planking  was  found 
to  be  in  good  order,  and  she  had  sustained  no  damage  save 
in  that  one  place.  The  water  had  run  out  of  the  deep 
hole  in  the  bows  as  the  tide  went  down,  until  all  that  was 
left  in  her  remained  at  the  stern. 

"Now,  you  boys,"  said  Captain  Sammy  to  Charley  and 
Bobby,  "  get  on  board,  and  go  to  pumping  just  as  soon  as 
the  rail  is  above  water,  and  when  the  tide  comes  in  to- 
night I  promise  you  it  shall  float  the  Pearl  wherever  we 
want  her." 

The  little  man,  with  Dare's  assistance,  then  began  nail- 
ing the  canvas  over  the  broken  timbers,  and  when  it  was 
all  done  a  thick  coating  of  tar  was  spread  over  it. 

Charley  and  Bobby  had  worked  hard  at  the  pump  until 
they  were  nearly  tired  out,  and  when  Captain  Sammy's 
work  was  finished  Dare  took  their  place,  and  remained 
there  until  the  sucking  sound  of  the  pump  boxes  told  that 
the  Pearl  was  freed  from  the  burden  of  water  that  had 
held  her  captive. 

She  was  high  and  dry  on  the  beach,  and  while  they 
were  waiting  for  the  incoming  tide  Captain  Sammy  or- 
dered the  boys  to  clean  out  the  sand  and  other  dirt  which 
had  settled  in  the  cabins  and  engine-room. 

Then  her  anchors  and  cables,  as  well  as  every  other 
movable  thing  on  board,  and  some  of  the  chains  used  for 
raising  her,  were  piled  up  in  the  stern  in  order  to  raise 
her  bow  as  high  as  possible  above  the  water  when  .slic 
should  float. 

That  done,  the  tired  party  went  to  the  tent  for  the  din- 
ner which  had  been  delayed  until  the  work  was  finished; 
and  again  they  waited  for  the  tide,  though  this  time  it 
was  with  the  certainty  that  the  little  steamer  would  float 
upon  it  unaided. 

As  soon  as  the  water  began  to  ripple  around  the  stern 
of  the  Pearl  Charley  and  Bobby  were  ordered  on  board 
with  long  poles  to  force  her  along  when  she  began  to 
float.  Captain  Sammy  and  Dare  stood  by  the  hawser 
that  had  been  made  fast  to  the  bow  in  order  to  pull  her 
on  to  the  ways  that  had  been  laid  as  high  up  on  the  beach 
as  it  was  thought  the  steamer  would  float. 

When  in  sailing  trim  the  Pearl  drew  but  fourteen 
inches  of  water;  but  now,  owing  to  the  heavy  load  in 
the  stern,  the  tide  had  risen  nearly  three  feet  before  she 
began  to  swing  slowly  around. 

"  Hold  her  there !"  shouted  Captain  Sammy  to  those  on 
board.  "Don't  let  her  swing  one  way  or  the  other." 
And  then  he  and  Dare  pulled  her  a  few  inches  ahead  un- 
til she  grounded  again. 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


In  this  slow  way  she  was  forced  up  the  beach  until, 
when  the  tide  began  to  ebb  again,  she  had  settled  firmly 
down  on  to  the  plank  ways,  and  so  high  up  that  the 
workmen  would  not  be  disturbed  by  the  water  more  than 
two  hours  each  day. 

"There,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  as  he  lighted  his  pipe, 
seated  himself  on  the  sand,  and  unbuckled  his  leg  for  a 
more  complete  rest  while  enjoying  his  triumphal  smoke, 
"the  Pearl  has  been  raised,  an'  all  you  boys  have  got  to 
do  is  to  patch  up  the  hole  in  her  bows.  You  want  to  find 
some  well-seasoned  cedar  lumber,  and  you'll  have  the 
work  done  in  no  time." 

Now.  after  what  looked  to  be  the  most  difficult  part  of 
the  task  was  accomplished,  Dare  began  to  doubt  his  abil- 
ity to  repair  the  steamer  in  a  workman-like  manner,  and 
his  face  told  quite  plainly  just  what  was  troubling  him. 

"  I  s'pose  you  begin  to  think  the  worst  part  of  the  work 
has  yet  to  come?"  said  the  little  man.  as  he  tupped  with 
his  wooden  leg  on  the  tarred  canvas. 

"I'm  afraid  we  sha'ii't  be  able  to  make  it  look  as  nice 
as  it  did  before,  although  I  think  we  could  make  it  water- 
tight," said  Dare,  frankly. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  can  be  done.  I'll  see  to  get- 
ting the  lumber,  and  I'll  come  over  here  and  boss  the  job, 
providing  you'll  take  me  out  as  a  passenger  when  \<>u 
start  on  your  cruise,  in  case  I  should  want  t<>  go." 

There  could  be  but  one  answer  to  this,  for-  the  bovs  had 
come  to  like  the  little  man  so  much  during  their  uci|iiuint- 
ance  with  him  that  they  would  be  only  too  well  pleased 
to  have  him  with  them,  and  Dare  told  him  as  much. 

"Then,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  who  seemed  to  be  de- 
lighted at  the  boys'  liking  for  him,  "  we'll  have  the  Pearl 
ready  in  two  days,  and  on  Monday  you  can  start." 

CHAPTER  XII. 
THE    LAUNCH. 

THE  boys  were  naturally  anxious  to  start  on  their  cruise 
to  the  Everglades  as  soon  as  possible,  but  yet  they  felt  that 
Captain  Sammy  was  making  a  very  rush  promise  when 
he  said  the  Pi'/irl  would  be  repaired  in  two  days. 

As  much  as  they  wanted  to  have  the  work  done,  they 
did  not  think  it  could  be  accomplished  so  quickly ;  but 
they  resolved  to  waste  no  time,  in  order  that  they  might 
do  their  full  share  toward  it. 

Therefore,  while  Captain  Sammy  was  smoking  content- 
edly on  the  beach,  they  set  about  a  thorough  cleaning  of 
the  interior,  which  promised  to  be  a  long  task. 

Then  a  new  difficulty  presented  itself;  the  engine  need- 
ed prompt  and  skilled  attention,  and  neither  of  the  boys 
had  the  slightest  knowledge  of  machinery.  The  more 
Dare  thought  about  the  matter  the  more  firmly  was  he 
convinced  that  they  were  utterly  powerless  to  act  in  that 
department,  and  therefore  he  appealed  to  Captain  Sammy. 
"Of  course  you  don't  know  anything  about  the  en- 
gine, and  no  more  do  I, "replied  the  little  man,  quietly. 
"  What  you've  got  to  do  is  to  hire  Tom  Rogers  for  two  or 
three  days,  let  him  put  the  engine  in  good  condition,  and 
then  teach  you  how  to  run  it.  I'll  send  him  over  here  in 
the  morning,  and  you  can  make  a  trade  with  him." 

When  morning  came  the  boys  were  so  sleepy  after 
their  hard  work  that  they  did  not  awake  until  Captain 
Sammy  arrived,  and  shouted,  "Shipmates  ahoy!"  in  his 
gruffest  tones,  and  then  they  scrambled  out,  feeling  de- 
cidedly ashamed  at  being  found  in  bed  when  the  little 
man  was  there  and  ready  for  work. 

It  was  a  very  hurried  toilet  and  a  still  more  hasty 
breakfast  they  made  that  morning,  and  while  they  were 
thus  engaged  Captain  Sammy  had  ordered  the  two  men 
whom  he  had  brought  with  him  to  go  to  work. 

One  was  the  machinist,  and  he  agreed  to  put  the  engine 
i?i  thorough  working  order  in  two  days,  while  he  thought 
that,  in  that  time,  if  one  of  the  boys  would  help  him,  he 


could  give  him  such  instruction  as  would  enable  him  to 
run  the  engine  during  the  proposed  trip. 

The  man  said  his  charges  would  be  three  dollars  per 
day.  and  Dare  engaged  him  to  remain  with  them  as  long- 
as  was  necessary,  providing  he  did  not  get  through  us 
quickly  as  he  had  thought  he  could. 

"You'd  better  keep  him  with  you  until  you  get  down 
to  San  Carlos  Harbor,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  and  Dare 
concluded  the  bargain,  subject  to  his  father's  approval. 

When  the  question  came  up  as  to  which  boy  should 
turn  engineer,  Dare  thought  he  ought  to  take  that  post, 
since  there  was  likely  to  be  more  work  involved;  but 
Captain  Sammy  settled  the  matter  by  saying: 

"Let  Charley  attend  to  the  engine,  and  Bobby  can 
help  him.  You  are  the  oldest,  and  should  be  the  skipper, 
for  that  is  really  the  hardest  position,  and  one  which  re- 
quires the  longest  head.  You  must  remember  that  you 
are  going  into  waters  about  which  you  know  nothing. 
and  an  error  of  judgment  may  wreck  the  Pearl  where 
she  can't  be  raised  as  she  was  here." 

Captain  Sammy's  words  amounted,  in  fact,  to  a  decision. 
Charley  and  Bobby  went  into  the  engine-room  with  Tom 
Rogers,  while  Captain  Sammy,  the  man  he  had  brought 
with  him,  and  Dare  set  to  work  to  close  up  the  hole  in 
the  bows. 

So  simple,  was  the  work  to  Captain  Sammy  and  his 
man  that  by  six  o'clock  the  hull  of  the  Pearl  had  been 
made  us  good  us  ever,  and  the  new  timbers  had  received 
the  first  coat  of  white  lead,  over  which  was  to  be  put  two 
coats  of  paint. 

Rogers  had  progressed  much  slower  in  the  engine-room, 
because  it  was  necessary  to  take  the  machinery  entirely 
apart,  and  free  it  from  the  rust  that  had  begun  to  gather. 
The  two  workmen  stopped  work  promptly  at  six  o'clock, 
and  Captain  Sammy  went  away  with  them;  but  the  boys 
kept  at  their  task  of  "cleaning  up"  as  long  after  supper  as 
it  was  possible  for  them  to  see  what  they  were  about. 

On  the  following  morning  they  took  very  good  care 
that  Captain  Sammy  should  not  find  them  asleep  when 
he  came,  and  when  the  day  was  done,  the  work  on  the 
Pearl  was  finished.  Nothing  remained  but  to  launch 
her. 

As  it  was  Saturday  night,  the  boys  went  to  the  hotel  to 
remain  over  Sunday.  It  was  not  necessary  for  any  one 
to  keep  watch  over  the  Pearl,  and  they  had  had  enough 
of  camp  life  to  make  them  willing  to  sleep  in  a  comfort- 
able bed,  as  well  as  to  eat  their  food  at  a  table. 

Captain  Sammy  had  agreed  to  furnish  the  necessary 
bedding,  cooking  utensils,  and  coal,  while  upon  the  boys 
was  to  rest  the  duty  of  victualling  the  craft. 

Therefore  Dare  and  his  father  had  considerable  business 
to  attend  to  that  evening,  for  the  question  had  to  be  settled 
as  to  whether  Mr.  Evans  would  be  willing  to  buy  for  them 
pi-ovisions  sufficient  to  last  during  the  long  voyage  they 
proposed  taking. 

In  order  that  there  might  be  no  mistake  about  it,  Dare 
first  told  his  father  that  now  that  the  raising  of  the  Pearl 
was  an  accomplished  fact,  they  had  come  for  his  permis- 
sion to  make  a  long  trip  through  the  Everglades,  or  as  far 
in  as  they  could  go  in  the  yacht.  Dare  also  told  him 
what  portion  of  the  outfit  of  the  steamer  Captain  Sammy 
would  furnish,  and  concluded  by  asking  if  he  would  buy 
the  provisions  for  them. 

Mr.  Evans's  answer  was  as  satisfactory  as  it  was 
prompt.  ' '  I  already  have  to  pay  for  the  use  of  the  lum- 
ber you  hired,  and  shall  be  obliged  to  pay  the  machinist. 
Now  I  am  willing  to  purchase  the  things  necessary  for  the 
cruise,  provided  you  all  give  up  your  allowance  of  spend- 
iug-money,  and  provided  you  learn  all  that  is  possible  of 
the  State  which  you  are  in,  and  the  peculiar  formation  of 
the  lower  portion  of  it." 

There  was  no  question  as  to  whether  the  boys  would 
accept  such  a  generous  offer,  and  it  would  have  been  im- 


440 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


possible  to  find  three  happier  lads  in  the  entire  State  of 
Florida  than  Dare,  Charley,  and  Bobby. 

The  Monday  011  which  the  Pearl  was  to  be  launched 
came  at  last,  and  the  boys  were  up  and  on  the  beach  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning,  even  though  the  tide,  would  not 
serve  for  the  important  ceremony  until  nearly  evening. 

It  was  while  Dare  was  making-  a  trip  alone  from  the 
boat  to  the  tent  that  he  saw  a  movement  among  the  bushes 


he  resolved  to  speak  with  the  little  man  regarding  it  be- 
fore he  left  him  that  night. 

There  was  no  chance  for  conversation  then,  for  the  Cap- 
tain bustled  and  fussed  around  with  his  preparations  for 
the  launch,  ordering  Dare  here  and  there,  until  the  boy 
got  so  confused  that  he  hardly  knew  what  he  was  about. 

When  he  was  ready  to  put  the  finishing  touches  to  bis 
work,  those  in  the  engine-room  were  called  out  on  to  the 


'THOSE  ON  SHORE  SET  UP  A  LOUD  SHOUT  OP  TRIUMPH.' 


that  skirted  the  shore,  and  then  a  small  familiar-look  ing- 
head  appeared. 

There  could  be  110  mistake  as  to  the  ownership  of  that 
head,  for  it  belonged  to  the  former  pirate  of  Tampa,  and 
the  stealthy  manner  in  which  it  had  been  shown  betoken- 
ed mischief. 

"  Where's  the  old  heathen  ?"  whispered  Tommy,  as  soon 
as  Dare  had  approached  him. 

"I'm  expecting  him  every  minute  now,  and  you  must 
be  careful  not  to  let  him  see  you,  or  I'm  afraid  he  might 
punish  you  for  wrecking  the  boat.'' 

''He'll  see  me  more'ii  he  wants  to  before  long,"  said 
Master  Tucker,  with  a  tinge  of  the  old  swagger  in  his 
tones.  "  I  was  goin'  past  his  dock  last  night  an'  he  start- 
ed after  mi',  an'  when  he  found  he  couldn't  catch  me,  he 
shied  a  stick  an'  hit  me  on  the  arm.  Now  I'm  goin'  to 
serve  him  out,  promise  or  no  promise,  an'  I've  come  to 
warn  you.  That's  his  steamer;  an'  even  if  he  has  lent  it 
to  you,  I'm — 

The  sentence  was  not  finished,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the 
head  was  suddenly  withdrawn,  and  a  quick  rustling  of  the 
bushes  told  that  its  owner  was  carrying  it  away  at  full 
speed,  while  the  sight  of  Captain  Sammy  on  the  beach  told 
the  reason  of  the  haste. 

Dare  was  alarmed  lest  Tommy  intended  to  "serve  Cap- 
tain Sammy  out"  by  doing  some  injury  to  the  Pearl,  and 


beach,  and  Dare  ordered  to  go  on  board.  He  was  to  stand 
in  the  bows  to  throw  over  the  anchors  as  soon  as  the  launch 
had  been  accomplished,  and  both  the  other  boys  envied 
him  because  of  the  position. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans,  who  had  promised  to  be  present  at 
the  ceremony,  arrived  about  fifteen  minutes  before  the  ail- 
pointed  time,  and  Captain  Sammy  was  kept  remarkably 
busy  in  trying  to  do  his  work  and  explain  everything  to 
the  visitors  at  the  same  time. 

Finally  all  was  ready,  the  last  block  was  laid,  and  the 
Captain  and  Rogers  began  knocking  away  the  timbers 
that  held  the  Pearl  prisoner. 

Then  she  started,  slowly  at  first,  but  with  increasing 
speed  each  second,  until  she  struck  the  water  with  a  force 
that  dashed  the  spray  up  around  her  in  great  volumes, 
and  once  more  the  Pearl  was  afloat. 

Those  on  shore  set  up  a  loud  shout  of  triumph,  to  which 
Dare  responded  by  waving  his  hat,  and  then  lie  let  go  both 
anchors. 

Just  as  this  was  done,  and  he  was  thinking  with  pride 
that  the  beautiful  little  craft  was  at  his  disposal,  for  some 
time  at  least,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Tommy  Tucker,  who 
was  standing  among  the  trees  peering  out,  as  if  plotting 
some  mischief  against  the  little  steamer.  The  sight  de- 
stroyed all  Dare's  pleasure  for  the  time  being. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


441 


THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  WHIPPING-BOY. 


7~HAT  is  a  whipping-boy,  anyhow?"     All  the  boys 
and  girls  will  ask  that  question  when  they  look 
at  this  picture  of  Edward  VI.  and  his  whipping-boy. 

I  must  tell  you,  then,  that  iu  old  times  a  Prince,  who 
was  to  be  a  King  after  he  grew  up,  was  treated  as  a  person 


of  very  great  dignity  and  importance.  It  would  not  do 
to  punish  him,  because  his  person  was  held  to  be  sacred; 
but  as  a  Prince  was  oiiiy  a  boy,  after  all,  he  had  to  learn 
lessons  and  he  had  to  obey  his  teachers.  If  he  did  not  get 
his  lessons,  or  if  he  was  saucy  to  his  teachers,  it  would 


442 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV 


not  do  to  overlook  the  matter;  somebody  must  be  pun- 
ished, and  in  those  days  boys  were  always  punished  by 
flogging. 

But  it  would  not  do  to  flog  a  Prince.  He  was  a  King's 
son,  and  after  a  while  would  become  King  himself.  So 
whenever  the  Prince  did  anything  for  which  a  flogging 
was  necessary,  the  flogging  was  given  to  another  boy. 
They  kept  a  boy  for  the  purpose.  It  was  his  business  to 
take  all  the  Prince's  whippings  for  him,  and  hence  they 
called  him  the  Prince's  whipping-boy. 

The  boy  who  took  Edward  VI. 's  whippings  for  him  was 
named  Barnabas  Fitzpatrick,  and  it  is  said  that  he  and  the 
Prince  were  very  good  friends  indeed. 

In  the  picture  it  seems  that  Edward  is  trying  to  save 
Barnabas  from  the  whipping,  and  we  think  better  of  him 
for  it;  but  it  would  have  been  still  more  manly  for  him 
to  have  stood  up  and  taken  the  whipping  himself. 


ONLY  A  GIRL." 


BY      MARY 

THEY  lived  with  their  grandmother,  did  John  and 
Katinka.  in  the  old  yellow  house  by  the  river.  There 
was  plenty  of  room  in  the  house,  in  spite  of  its  being  only 
one  story  high.  For  the  "milk-room''  opened  out  of  the 
kitchen,  the  "sink-room"  was  between  the  pantry  and  the 
"pump-room,"  which  in  turn  led  into  the  "seed-cham- 
ber." and  was  connected  by  an  arch  with  the  "meal-closet" 
and  "store-room,"  the  latter  being  next  the  barn,  where 
lived  Peter,  the  fifteen-year-old  "colt." 

The  small  garden  lay  in  the  rear.  The  garden  was  the 
principal  spot,  after  all,  for  by  means  of  that  John  in- 
tended to  earn  his  living.  He  gloried  in  being  a  boy,  and 
able  to  support  himself. 

To  be  sure,  grandma  made  his  clothes,  and  Katinka  knit 
and  darned  his  stockings;  but  John  did  not  take  that  into 
account.  He  thought  no  more  of  paying  Katinka  for  her 
labor  in  the  mending  line  than  he  did  of  rewarding  her 
when  she  helped  to  weed  the  garden.  What  were  girls 
made  for,  unless  to  help  ? 

So  twelve-year-old  Katinka  worked  cheerfully  by  his 
side,  carried  water  when  the  weather  was  "  dry,"  rose  at 
four  o'clock  A.M.  to  pounce  on  potato-bugs  at  their  morn- 
ing revels,  or  made  herself  into  a  scarecrow  and  stood  half 
the  day  waving  her  arms  and  shouting  at  the  crows  when 
the  corn  was  planted.  But  it  was  clearly  understood  that 
John  raised  the  vegetables,  especially  the  cabbages. 

"  Which  will  sell  at  three  cents  a  head,  Katinka-tink- 
tink.  Then  I'll  have  enough  money  to  buy  a  Harp  of 
Judah,  and  go  to  singing-school,"  announced  John,  who 
was  fourteen  years  old,  and  learning  to  sing  a  nerve-shat- 
tering part  called  —  by  himself  —  bass. 

Katinka's  eyes  shone. 

"  I  wisht  I  could  go  to  singing-school,  too,"  said  she. 

"So  you  might,  if  you  were  a  boy  and  could  earn  the 
money,"  answered  John,  loftily.  "There's  a  caterpillar! 
Go  for  him,  Katinka-tink-tink  !" 

So  Katinka  "went  for"  the  worm,  then  ran  for  a  hoe, 
afterward  fetched  the  water-pot,  and  finally,  there  being 
no  more  odd  jobs  on  hand  for  this  particular  lord  of  crea- 
tion, she  was  graciously  permitted  to  attend  to  her  own 
small  plat  of  ground,  at  the  contents  of  which  John  smiled 
scornfully. 

There  were  bachelor's  buttons,  bouncing  -  Bets,  holly- 
hocks, thrift  -  flowers,  blue  "  baby's  -  breaths,  "  and  three 
great  sunflowers. 

"Trash!"  John  called  them,  to  Katinka's  anguish,  for 
though  she  was  aware  that  squashes  and  beans  were  vast- 
ly superior,  yet  she  was  very  fond  of  her  silly  flowers.  She 
even  wondered  if  she  might  not  beg  John  to  carry  a  few  of 
them  to  the  city,  and  try  to  sell  tjiem  with  his  vegetables. 
'Then  she  might  perhaps  join  forces  with  Sally  Lowcler, 
each  paying  half  for  a  Harp  of  Judah,  from  which  they 


could  warble  in  company.  But  Katinka  hardly  dared  to 
proffer  this  request  when  John's  vegetables  were  ready  for 
sale.  The  cabbages  were  especially  magnificent. 

"Three  cents  a  head,  and  there  are  as  many  as  thirty 
of  them,"  said  John,  one  evening,  rubbing  his  cheek,  and 
gazing  out  of  the  window.  "To-morrow  I'll  harness  up 
and  take  them  to  town." 

Now  the  reason  John  rubbed  his  cheek  was  that  for  two 
whole  days  it  had  pained  him,  and  to-night  there  was  a 
red  place  puffing  out  behind  his  left  ear.  The  next  morn- 
ing there  was  a  swelling  behind  the  other  ear,  and  he  had 
a  double  chin  fit  for  an  alderman. 

"John,"  said  his  grandmother,  "it's  the  mumps." 

It  was  indeed,  and  a  fiercer  boy  than  Master  John  you 
never  saw,  for  mumps  being  "catching,"  he  could  by  no 
means  go  into  town  and  spread  the  disease  as  he  sold  his 
cabbages. 

"All  I  can  do  is  to  stand  here  and  see  them  burst  open 
at  three  cents  a  pop,"  said  he,  bitterly. 

Katinka's  heart  was  full  of  sympathy,  but  what  could 
she  do — being  only  a  girl — except  make  poultices  for  the 
swollen  face,  and  fly  out  into  the  garden  every  five  min- 
utes to  see  if  the  "cabbage  over  yonder"  had  burst  yet,  or 
to  scare  away  the  blackbirds  which  were  holding  high 
carnival,  and  jeering  in  their  thievish  hearts  at  the  dis- 
torted face  in  the  window  ? 

The  following  day  the  mumps  were  even  worse,  and 
four  cabbages  blew  open.  The  waves  of  misery  bade  fair 
to  swamp  both  John  and  his  tender  little  sister,  until  sud- 
di'iily  Katinka  rose  to  the  surface,  and,  "I'm  going  to 
market,"  quoth  she. 

You  may  be  sure  there  was  a  sensation  at  these  words. 
Grandma  held  up  both  hands  in  horror. 

"  Pho !"  said  John.  And  he  meant  "pho!"  He  meant 
it  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word.  "You're  only  a  girl. 
What  can  a  girl  do,  I'd  like  to  know !" 

"  Yous7i«Z/know,"  declared  Katinka,  stoutly.  "Grand- 
ma, please  don't  say  '  no.'  " 

Now  grandma  never  did  say  "  no"  to  Katiuka.  Per- 
haps it  would  often  have  been  wiser  to  do  so,  but  history 
must  speak  the  truth,  and  the  fact  is  she  dropped  her  hands 
as  Katinka  explained  her  plans. 

"And  I  must  go  this  very  day,  grandma,"  ended  Katin- 
ka, "for  by  next  week  I  shall  be  down  with  the  mumps 
myself." 

"Besides  that,  the  cabbages  will  be  ruined,"  added  John. 

"The  little  birds  fly  about  the  city  unharmed.  Who 
would  molest  dear  little  Katinka  ?" 

So  reasoned  gentle,  unworldly  grandma. 

John  still  scoffed,  but  perhaps  for  that  very  reason  Ka- 
tinka cut  the  cabbages  with  a  firmer  hand.  She  gathered 
the  string-beans,  some  pease,  a  few  radishes,  and  even  went 
so  far  as  to  dig  some  early  potatoes.  Then  she  marched 
to  the  barn  to  interview  Peter. 

Now  Peter  had  opinions.  Alas!  some  of  these  ran  in 
the  same  groove  with  his  young  master's. 

"A  girl  put  on  my  bridle !     Perish  the  thought !" 

Peter  tossed  his  head  so  haughtily,  and  held  it  so  high 
that  Katiuka  reached  upward  in  vain. 

'Absurd  little  minx!"  said  Peter,  communing  with 
himself. 

But  suddenly  Peter  found  himself  tied  to  a  post ;  there 
was  a  barrel  at  his  side ;  there  was  a  scramble  and  a  flut- 
ter of  petticoats.  Before  he  could  collect  his  senses  Peter's 
eyes  were  fenced  in  by  blinders,  the  bit  was  between  his 
astonished  teeth,  the  wagon  shafts  were  clasping  his  sides. 

"We'll  see  who  can  manage  you,  sir!"  remarked  Ka- 
tinka. 

It  took  only  a  moment  for  the  little  maid  to  don  her 
cape  bonnet,  and  to  tuck  the  vegetables  into  the  wagon. 
Then  she  mounted  the  seat,  and  was  off  and  away. 

Off  and  away  at  a  breakneck  pace,  for  Peter  had  bided 
his  time.  Conquered  by  a  girl  ?  Not  he.  With  a  tug 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


and  a  strain  lie  ran  up  the  first  quarter  of  a  mile.  His 
breath  came  hard.  The  next,  and  his  run  had  become  a 
gallop.  Two-thirds  of  the  way,  and  the  gallop  was  a  mild 
trot.  His  bit  was  covered  with  foam.  The  top  was  reach- 
ed. Peter  dragged  his  legs  wearily,  then  stopped  short. 

"Ha!"  said  Peter,  "times  have  changed."  "Ho!"  said 
Peter,  "in.  these  days  girls  have  queer  ways  of  their  own." 
"Hi!"  said  Peter,  "let's  be  respectable." 

Katinka  had  never  dreamed  there  would  be  so  many 
wagons  at  the  market-place.  Her  heart  failed  her.  Who 
would  notice  so  small  a  person  as  herself  among  these 
busy,  bustling  men?  Surely  she  never  ought  to  have 
come.  But  she  remembered  John,  and  would  not  turn 
back.  She  guided  the  now  meek  and  weary  Peter  to  the 
curbstone,  and  gazed  wistfully  around. 

No  one  noticed  her.  One  man  with  butter  and  eggs 
was  noisily  crying  his  wares.  Another,  in  a  white  apron, 
was  bargaining  for  mutton.  A  third  was  crying,  "Let- 
tuce! nice  fresh  lettuce  here!" 

"<  (ranges!  fifteen  cents  a  dozen!  Two  dozen,  twenty- 
five  cents !" 

"Any  horse-reddish  ?" 

The  din  almost  deafened  Katinka.  She  held  out  a  cab- 
bage, and  shouted,  but  could  not  hear  her  own  voice. 

"I  wonder  if  they  would  notice  a  flower  :"  thought  she; 
for,  quite  unknown  to  John,  she  had  brought  some  posies. 
thinking  that  even  if  she  could  not  sell  them,  they  would 
like  to  come  to  town  and  see  the  sights.  She  caught  up  a 
sunflower,  and  held  it  high  above  her  head. 

"Tell  them  I  have  cabbages  to  sell,"  she  whispered. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  lull  in  the  noise  about  her,  and 
a  woman's  voice  exclaimed, 

"Oh,  what  a  panel  she  would  make,  papa!" 

Katinka  became  aware  of  a  tall,  gray-haired  gentleman 
.and  a  young  lady  who  was  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"Oh,  what  a  picture!"  cried  the  lady  again,  and  she 
•came  close  to  Katinka's  wagon.  "I  should  like  to  paint 
you,  child,"  sho  said. 

Katinka's  gray  eyes  opened  wider.  Then,  taking  cour- 
.age  from  the  kindly  face,  she  leaned  forward. 

"The  cabbages  are  only  three  cents  apiece," she  said. 
.appealingly. 

"  How  dear!"  exclaimed  the  lady. 

"No,  no,  ma'am;  that's  very  cheap,"  said  Katinka. 

The  new-comer  seemed  to  find  her  very  amusing,  for  she 
laughed,  and  showed  two  rows  of  dazzlingly  white  teeth. 

"  It's  you  who  are  dear  and  simple  and  truly  precious," 
.she  said.  "Will  you  come  with  me,  you  little  Penelope 
Boothby,  and  let  me  paint  you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Katinka,  and  I  must  sell  my  garden  stuff," 
:said  Katinka,  solemnly. 

"  Papa,  buy  her  vegetables,"  ordered  the  lady.  "  What 
have  you,  little  one  ?  Beans,  potatoes,  and  hollyhocks,  I 
declare !  Papa,  you  go  to  your  office,  and  Katinka — what 
.a  delicious  name! — shall  drive  me  home;  then  I'll  buy 
her  goods  and  paint  her  picture.  Good-by,  papa.  Give 
me  a  seat  in  your  wagon,  child." 

Katinka  was  lost  in  amazement.  What  was  this  ex- 
traordinary young  lady  about  to  do  with  her? 

On  they  drove,  away  from  the  noise  and  bustle,  until 
finally  they  stopped  in  front  of  a  large  brick  house. 

"Julia,"  said  the  lady  to  a  white-capped  maid  who 
opened  the  door,  "take  these  vegetables  to  the  kitchen. 
Call  Smith,  and  ask  him  to  give  this  horse  some  oats.  Ka- 
tinka, you  come  with  me." 

Still  in  a  daze,  Katinka  followed  her  eccentric  hostess 
into  a  long  room  hung  with  pictures. 

"I'll  keep  you  only  an  hour,  and  I'll  pay  you  a  dollar 
besides  the  worth  of  your  potatoes  and  cabbages,"  said  the 
lady. 

Katinka  clasped  her  hands  in  delight. 
"  A  dollar!"  she  repeated.     "Then  I  can  buy  a  Harp 
•  of  Juiluh  .'" 


The  young  lady  flew  about,  placing  an  easel,  hunting 
up  pencils  and  brushes.  Then  Katinka  was  whisked  into 
a  chair,  and  bidden  to  hold  tightly  to  her  sunflower,  while 
her  captor  sketched  as  if  for  her  life. 

"  You  blessed  little  old-fashioned  cherub!"  she  was  ex- 
claiming. "Turn  your  head  a  trifle  to  the  left.  There! 
there!  Now  don't  move  for  the  love  of  Correggio  him- 
self. Oh,  you  cherub!" 

Sketch,  sketch,  sketch. 

"Drop  your  eyelids.  One  dollar!— I'll  give  you  two, 
my  beauty." 

Sketch,  sketch,  sketch.  The  town  clock  clanged 
twelve. 

"  I  guess  I'll  go  home,"  faltered  Katinka. 

"Only  two  minutes  more.  Now  raise  your  eyes. 
What !  Bless  me,  a  tear?  I've  tired  you  out,  you  poor 
little  image!  Julia,  bring  some  cakes.  Two  dollars? — it 
shall  be  three!  Come  here,  and  look  at  yourself." 

Sure  enough,  there  was  Katinka's  very  face  peering  at 
her  from  the  easel,  its  eyes  as  big  and  as  gray  as  her  own. 

"My,  what  a  handsome  sunflower!"  cried  Katinka. 

Two  hours  later  grandma  and  John  beheld  Peter  racing 
down  the  road. 

Before  they  could  reach  the  barn  Katinka  had  sped  into 
the  house,  waving  a  live-dollar  bill  before  John's  swollen 
face. 

"Say  'girl'  again  !"  quoth  she. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?"  demanded  the  astonished 
John. 

"Sold  your  cabbages — two  dollars.  Queer  lady  made 
a  picture  of  me — three  dollars,  because  I  was  a  girl." 

"A  picture  of  you  'I     In  that  sun-bonnet  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  With  your  hair  in  vour  eyes  like  that?" 

"Yes."' 

"  A  picture  of  1/011 .'" 

"With  a  sunflower  in  my  hand.  And  she  said  I  was 
a  che — a  che — a  i-\\vtnl>  or  dub  or  rub.  Yes,  that's  it,  a 
che-n«b.  And  she  liked  me  because  I  was  a  girl." 

"Well.  I  never  heard  the  like  of  that!"  cried  John,  and 
his  cheeks  seemed  to  puff  out  bigger  than  ever  in  his  ef- 
forts to  understand  such  nonsense. 

But  there  wrere  several  facts  that  John  had  "  never 
heard  the  like  of."  One  was  that  during  the  next  Octo- 
ber, when  he  and  Katinka  were  trotting  to  singing-school, 
each  carrying  a  brand-new  Harp  of  Judah,  the  folk  of 
the  neighboring  city  were  in  raptures  over  a  certain  pic- 
ture which  hung  in  a  public  gallery. 

It  was  the  portrait  of  a  little  maiden  in  a  plaid  sun- 
bonnet,  who  gazed  at  the  crowd  with  wide-open,  innocent 
gray  eyes,  and  whose  mouth  wore  such  a  happy  smile 
that  one  and  all  smiled  back  at  her.  "just  as  you  would 
at  a  lily."  But  it  was  no  lily  the  child  held  in  her  hand. 
It  was  a  large  rich  yellow  sunflower. 

And  no  one  knew  who  the  picture  was,  for  when  they 
hunted  it  up  in  the  catalogue  all  they  found  was, 

"No.  77.      Only  a  Girl." 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A   TOY  STEAMBOAT. 

BY  VICTOR  SMEDLEY. 

T)OBERT  FULTON  could  not  have  been  more  proud 
JA)  and  delighted  with  his  first  successful  steamboat  than 
was  the  writer  when,  as  a  boy,  he  succeeded  in  making  a 
toy  craft  that  would  run  itself. 

The  drawings  and  diagrams  that  are  here  given  explain 
how  to  make  a  small  boat,  the  motor  power  being  a  thin 
band  of  elastic,  one  end  of  which  is  attached  to  the  centre 
of  the  paddle-wheel  axle,  the  other  end  being  tied  to  the 
flag-staff  in  the  bow  of  the  boat.  A  piece  of  string  a  few 
inches  longer  than  the  elastic  when  the  latter  is  stretched 
out  to  its  full  length  is  also  attached  to  the  axle  about 
midwav  between  the  elastic  and  one  of  the  paddle-wheels. 


•i-ti 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    TOY    STEAMBOAT    "  ROBERT    FULTON." 

Do  not  tie  the  string 
on  until  you  have  turned 
the  paddle-wheels  around 
backward  until  the  elastic 
is  stretched  to  its  utmost. 
When,  you  let  go  the  pad- 
dle-wheels the  elastic  will 
unwind;  in  doing  this  it 
will  wind  the  string  oil 
the  axle;  so  to  start  the 
boat  you  simply  have  to 
draw  the  string  out  to  its 
full  length. 

The  hull  is  made  from 
a  piece  of  soft  wood  about 
a  foot  long  and  an  inch 
thick,  shaped  as  shown  in 
the  diagrams.  The  boat 
is  flat-bottomed,  and  is  not 
hollow,  the  wood  being 
sufficiently  buoyant.  The 
paddle-wheels  are  made  of 
shingle  or  cigar-box  wood 
about  three  and  a  half 

inches  long  and  one  inch  wide,  with  an  incision  cut 
centre  the  same  width  as  the  thickness  of  the  board 
of  these  will  be  necessary  to  make  the  two  wheels. 
are  joined  together  by  the  axle,  which  should  be 


the  thickness  of  a  lead-pencil,  and  half  an  inch  longer 
than  the  width  of  the  boat,  to  prevent  the  wheels  catch- 
ing on  the  sides  of  the  boat  as  they  revolve. 

To  fasten  the  paddle-wheels  on  the  axle,  drive  a  small 
finishing  nail  through  one  section  of  the  paddle  at  the 
incision  into  the  end  of  the  axle,  as  shown  in  Fig.  2 ;  then 
fit  the  sections  together,  and  the  paddle-wheels  are  com- 
plete. The  axle  is  kept  in  place  by  pieces  of  wire,  or 
pins  with  their  heads  filed  off,  bent  like  a  horseshoe,  and 
placed  over  the  axle  and  driven  into  the  boat.  The 
cabin  is  made  of  white  card-board,  measuring,  when 
extended  out  before  being  bent,  about  twenty  inches; 
the  sides  are  seven  inches  long  and  one  and  a  half  inches 


in  the 
;  four 
They 

about 


Fig.  2.— WOKKING  PLANS. 


Fig.  1.— WORKING  PLANS. 

high.  Upon  this  windows  are  painted 
in  black.  If  you  have  no  black  paint, 
ink  will  do  nearly  as  well.  White 
spaces  must  be  left  to  represent  the 
sash.  In  the  back  of  the  cabin  a  small 
hole  is  punched  through  the  card-board 
for  the  winding-up  cord  to  pass  through. 
The  dotted  lines  in  the  cut  show  where 
to  bend  the  card-board  to  form  the  four 
sides  of  the  cabin.  The  pilot-house  is 
bent  in  only  one  place  to  form  the 
back,  the  front  curving  round  in  a  half 
circle. 

After  having  fastened  the  sides  of  the  cabin  to  the 
hull,  place  the  boat  upside  clown  on  a  sheet  of  card- 
board, and  with  a  pencil  go  around  the  cabin;  lift 
off  the  boat,  and  you  will  have  a  pattern  for  the 
roof.  Cut  around  the  outlines,  leaving  a  quarter  of 
an  inch  between  your  scissors  and  the  outline. 
When  you  fasten  on  the  roof  it  will  project  beyond 
the  sides  of  the  cabin,  and  this  will  improve  the 
;i|>|M':irance  of  your  boat.  The  smoke-stack  is  made 
of  the  same  material  as  the  cabin,  blackened  to  give 
it  the  appearance  of  being  made  of  iron.  To  make 
it  circular,  roll  it  around  a  lead-pencil.  The  pieces 
are  fastened  together  by  pasting  a  strip  of  writing 
paper  half  an  inch  wide  over  the  joint,  halt'  on  each 
side.  Fasten  the  flag-staff  securely  in  place  by  bor- 
ing a  hole  with  a  gimlet  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  and 
then  the  vessel  will  be  ready  to  be  launched  with 
appropriate  ceremonies. 

The  boilers  will  never  burst,  and  when  the  steam 
gives  out  it  is  only  necessary  to  pull  the  string  to 
procure  a  new  supply  that  will  send  the  little  paddle- 
wheels  whirling  with  renewed  vigor,  to  the  great 
delight  of  the  assembled  multitude  of  young  people. 


MAY   15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•445 


CRUEL  SPORT. 

BY  AUNT  MARJORIE  PRECEPT. 

I  ONCE  had  a  white  fan 
made  of  swan's-down, 
in  the  centre  of  which 
pcii-erl  a  brilliant  lit- 
tle bird  with  gay 
plumage  and  open 
beak.  "  I    never 
liked  the  pretty 
fan,    although 
it   had  been  a 

gift,     to     me; 

but  some- 
thing hap- 
pened once 
which  made 
me  put.  it  out 
of  sight. 

A  dear  lit- 
tle   girl,    not 
three  years  old, 
took   it   in   her 
hand     one     day, 
and   touched   tin- 
bird     gently     with 
her    pink-tipped    fin- 
ger.     Then   her    eyes 
filled    with    tears    as    she 
looked    at    the    little    open 
mouth,  and  said,  "Oh,  aunty,  that 
was  the  last  song!" 

Believe  me,  boys,  when,  proud  of  your 
guns  and  of  ihe  straight  aim  you  can 
take,  you  go  tramping  through  the 
fields'  shnoliiiLT  the  merry  rob- 
ins and  gay  orioles  and  tiny 
wrens,  you   are   en- 
gaged in  very 

unmanly          _>*'=5'=^--.  ¥%% 

sport.          ^*(          "^-^-_.  L  ' 


• 
- 

k 


•      \ 


The  darling  song-birds  that  had  such  happy, 
care  free  lives,  flying  from  bough  to  bough,  arid 
tilting  on  the  flowery  sprays,  are  sent  to  us  for 
our  delight.  Their  sweet  notes  make  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  cheery,  and  a  home 
always  seems  gladder  and  brighter 
,  when  the  birds  come  about  it 
without  fear. 

What  fun  they  have  building 
their  nests,  and  how  patient  tin- 
old  birds  are  with  the  little  ones, 
feeding  them,  teaching  them  to 
fly.  and  indeed  teaching  them 
1  In  sing.     Did  you  ever  listen 

when    a    wren   mother    was 
practicing  music  with   her 
babies?     If  you  ever  did, 
I  am  sure  you  would  be 
as  indignant  as  I  am  at 
any  boy  who  would 
*W\wf==\»,        put  an   end  to  her 

'wij&g1*^        little  lif('-  Just  for 

p-    '  tfti^  amusement. 


y    , 
1 


~-' 


- 


" 


•--- 


ft" 


-5"  5g 


The  trou- 
ble      with 
many  boys  is. 
that   they   do 
not   think.      If 
they  stopped  to 
consider,      they 
would  not  like  to 
be  seen  bringing 
home  a  bagful  of 
little  birds  which 
are  not  fair  game, 
and  which  have  been 
recklessly  murdered. 

Nor  could  they  bear 
to  lift  their  guns,  take  aim, 
and  presto  !  wound  a  tiny 
creature,  leaving  it  to  fall  on 
the  ground  and  lie  there  dy- 
ing. 

These  tender-hearted  little 
girls  have  found  a  poor  bird 
that  has  sung  its  last  song. 
It  was  shot,  no  doubt,  by  Tom 
or  Fred,  who  goes  whistling 
on.  never  thinking  how  cruel 
he  has  been. 

In  some  States  of  the  Union 
the  killing  of  song-birds  is 
puni-hcd  by  fines  and  impris- 
onment. But  there  is  anoth- 
er punishment  which  comes 
to  farmers  and  land  owners 
who  permit  such  work.  The 
birds  eat  insects  which  de- 
stroy grain,  and  these  little 
pest's  multiply  and  ravage 
great  fields  when  the  birds. 
are  destroyed. 

There  are  birds  which  are 
good  for  food,  and  which  it 
is  not  wrong  to  kill,  provided 
they  are  needed  for  the  ta- 
ble or  for  an  invalid's  meal. 
But  the  little  songsters  of 
the  groves  and  hills  should 
be  sacred. 


446 


PIAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MUFFET  AND  TUFFET. 
These  pussy-cats  are  named  Muffet  and  Tuffet, 
and  belong  to  Miss  Jessie,  who  has  taken  them 
with  her  on  a  visit.  They  rode  fifty  miles  on  the 
cars  in  this  pretty  basket,  and  one  of  these  days, 
when  Miss  Jessie  goes  home,  they  will  ride  fifty 
miles  again.  So  Muffet  and  Tuffet  will  be  trav- 
elled cats,  and  may  sit  in  the  chimney-corner  and 
tell  stories. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

GILROV,  CALIFORMA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  have  two  lit- 
tle sisters — Edna,  who  is  seven,  and  Gemma,  who 
is  four  years  old.  We  have  been  taking  HAR- 
PER'S Yoi'Nt;  PEOPLE  almost  a  year.  We  are  all 
very  much  inti'ivsted  in  hearing  it  read  and  look- 
ing at  the  pictures.  Sometimes  we  go  to  Sono- 
ma County,  about  two  hundred  miles  north  from 
here,  to  see  grandpa  and  grandma,  who  live  there. 
We  pass  through  San  Francisco  in  going  to  So- 
noma County,  and  twice  we  went  to  Woodard's 
Gardens. 

There  are  a  great  many  things  there  to  see.  In 
the  garden  block  there  are  many  kinds  of  rare 
trees,  shrubs,  vim's,  and  plants,  and  an  aquarium 
with  many  kinds  of  fish,  from  large  sharks  to 
Small  gold -fish — which  we  see  thnmirh  phiti-  i:la^-- 
set  in  one  side  of  the  different  compartments  of 
the  large  stone  reservoir— an  art  gallery  with 
many  pictures,  etc. 

Then  they  have  a  menagerie  on  another  block, 
anil  have  a  double  tunnel  under  the  street  to  it ; 
visitors  go  in  through  one  tunnel  and  come  out 
through  the  other.  There  are  a  great  many  ani- 
mals— bears,  lions,  tigers,  camels,  bisons,  and  oh  ! 
NO  many  it  would  take  t<>..  lung  to  write  their 
names;  they  have  sea-lions  and  alligators.  But 
I  guess  this  letter  is  long  enough,  and  I  will  be 
as  pleased  as  any  of  the  other  children  are  to  see 
this  in  the  Post-office  Box.  EDITH  V.  D. 


LYONS,  IOWA. 

I  am  a  boy  five  years  old,  and  I  had  a  birthday, 
and  what  do  you  think  I  got?  Why,  five  marbles 
and  live  pipes  and  five  pennies  and  some  mittens. 
The  pipes  are  to  blow  bubbles  with,  and  the  five 
pennies  I  put  in  my  bank,  and  my  two  cousins 
came  over  and  spent  the  day  with  me,  and  we 
got  so  hungry  because  Maggie  wouldn't  get  us 
our  supper  until  after  dark,  but  then  she  brought 
us  a  nice  cake  with  five  candles  in  it,  and  that 
was  the  reason  she  wouldn't  give  us  our  supper. 

I  have  no  pets  except  a  cat.  I  bad  a  dog,  but 
I  gave  him  away  to  a  man  that  wanted  him  ;  he 
was  cross,  and  I  didn't  want  him.  I  guess  the 
man  won't  want  him  much  after  a  while. 

I  have  HARPER'S  YOUNU  PEOPLE.  I  look  at  the 
pictures,  and  some  one  tells  me  about  them.  I 
like  the  funny  pictures  hrst — that  old  rat  was  a 
good  one  -but  I  like  the  letters  most,  so  I  want- 
ed to  write,  only  I  couldn't,  but  my  papa  said  he 
would  write  if  I  would  tell  him  what  to  say.  I 
hope  you  will  keep  sending  me  the  paper.  My 
name 'is  CURTISS  R. 


LUBAV,  MISSOURI. 

I  am  twelve  years  old.  I  have  a  little  brother 
seven  years  nld  who  is  very  f<»nd  of  play.  I  am 
very  fond  of  reading,  especially  history.  I  am 
reading  Kollin's  Am-htit  History ,  second  volume. 
My  little  brother  would  rather  have  me  play,  and 
wishes  I  had  no  books  except  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE. 

\\  lien  I  was  seven  years  old  I  wrote  a  letter 
from  the  Alleghany  Mountains  to  tin-  Keokuk 
'.'.//<  ' "tiii_  Since  then  I  have  lived  amid  the  Rock- 
ies, and  then  in  Denver,  where  I  was  a  messenger 
boy.  Now  I  live  here,  but  I  think  Denver  is  the 
nicest  place  I  have  ever  been  in,  and  we  are  go- 
ing back  there. 

I  have  no  pets  except  a  little  brown  LeirlMTn 
hen.  Brother  has  a  cute  little  canary  named 
Demi.  I  have  taken  .SY.  Xic/wfitx  for  the  past  five 
years,  and  have  only  recently  been  getting  YOUNO 


PEOPLE,  but  I  like  it  very  much,  and  will  always 
take  it  in  future.  I  like  "Raising  the  'Pearl,'" 
and  was  sorry  when  "  Nan"  was  concluded. 

A.  V.  S. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.  I  take  HAR- 
PER'S YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  look  forward  with  plea- 
sure to  Tuesday  night,  for  then  my  papa  brings 
it  to  me.  I  like  the  story  "  liaising  the  "  Pearl' " 
best  of  all,  and  read  that  first.  I  went  to  Bar- 
num's  circus  last  week,  and  en  joyed  it  very  much. 
I  think  Jumbo  is  an  immense  animal.  I  gave 
him  some  crackers,  and  when  he  held  out  his 
trunk  to  take  them  it  was  so  large  it  quite  star- 
tled inr.  I  s:i\v  ninny  wonderful  things.  I  liked 
the  races,  especially  the  chariot  race,  exceeding- 
ly, but  it  was  all  splendid. 

As  I  live  in  the  city  I  haven't  any  pets  except 
one  little  kitten  named  Alice,  of  whom  I  am  very 
fond.  I  am  going  to  Virginia  in  May.  FALK. 

BILLINGS,  MONTANA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  Sometimes 
there  are  Indians  in  town,  and  one  day  they  were 
here,  and  I  had  just  been  to  the  baker's,  and  I 
bought  a  pie,  and  when  I  was  coming  back  there 
was  an  old  Indian  and  his  squaw  and  little  pa- 
poose all  sitting  in  front  of  a  tent,  and  I  went  up 
to  sre  1  hem,  and  papa  and  Edith  were  there,  and 
tin-  old  Indian  wanted  me  to  give  tlte  pie  to  him, 
and  the  uld  squaw  laughed.  Tim  old  Indian  and 
the  lit  lie  papoose  came  into  the  office,  ami  the 
little  papoose's  dress  was  all  covered  over  with 
elks'  teeth,  and  my  uncle  Walter  showed  him  his 
sword  ;  he  showed  the  old  Indian  it,  and  he  show- 
ed the  little  papoose  his  watch,  and  the  little  pa- 
poose ran  over  to  see  it. 

One  Indian  had  a  fur  cap  with  brass-headed 
tacks  all  around  it,  and  another  bad  a  fur  e:ip 
with  a  coyote's  tail  hanging  down  at  the  back ; 
and  one  day  we  went  to  Alkali  Creek  for  a  drive, 
and  I  got  three  elks'  horns,  and  we  saw  lots  of 
buffaloes'  skeletons.  We  drove  to  a  ranch,  and  the 
fence  was  all  made  of  cord-wood.  There  was  a 
little  bull  tied  up.  We  saw  lots  of  little  prairie- 
dogs.  TRIX  M. 

That  was  a  queer  way  to  ornament  a  baby's 
dress,  was  it  not,  with  elks'  teeth  ?  We  would 
not  think  it  very  pretty,  but  no  doubt  the  little 
one's  mother  admired  the  effect. 


ALSTEAD,  \EW  HAMPSHIRE. 

I  live  in  a  little  village  among  the  New  Hamp- 
shire hills.  We  have  lived  here  three  years.  Be- 
fore that  we.  lived  in  a  larger  town  across  the 
Connecticut.  My  papa's  health  failed. and  here- 
turned  to  his  native  village  to  try  ami  regain  it. 
I  am  twelve  years  old,  and  I  go  to  school,  and 
take  music  lessons.  Vacations  I  spend  in  help- 
ing mamma  about  the  house  and  doing  fancy- 
work. 

I  would  like  to  exchange  with  some  little  girl 
patterns  in  darned  net.  and  directions  for  lea- 
ther edge  braid  edging  and  knit  edging.  I  would 
like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers,  and  will  send 
receipts  if  the  Postmistress  is  willing.  The  long 
days  of  summer  are  delightful  here,  and  we  have 
many  lovely  walks  in  the  woods.  MABEL  E.  T. 

I  shall  be  expecting  something  nice  from  you, 
dear. 

CHESTNUT  HILL,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,  — My  children,  who  take 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  enjoy  it  too,  always  laugh  at 
me  when  I  have  a  certain  dessert.  They  want 
me  to  send  it  to  you,  with  the  name  they  have 
given  it : 


MAMMA'S  AND  KATIE'S  DELIGHT. — Half  a  box  of 


tiiivui    n'  ftiin   yum    liiaitr.      jjfL  .1:1   uuii,  aim    wii 

taken  off  add  the  three  whites  well  beaten. 

Make  some  time  before  using,  when  it  will  be 
firm  ami  good.  I  am  sure  yon  will  like  it  as  much 
as  Katie  and  I  do,  for  we  have  both  grown  fat 
upon  eatipg  it.  MRS.  G.  H.  N. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

I  am  a  young  girl,  and  a  great  admirer  of  YOI-NG 
PEOPLE.  My  brother  made  me  a  present  of  it 
over  a  year  ago,  and  every  Tuesday  night  he 
brings  it  home  to  me.  I  liked  the  story  of  "  Nan'1 
so  much,  and  hope  we  may  hear  more  about  her. 
I  have  one  pet — a  dear  little  pussy  cat.  Her  name 
is  Purr.  She  is  very  cunning.  Every  morning 
she  conies  to  my  bed  and  wakes  me  up  by  walk- 
ing around  my  head,  and  then,  sitting  down, puts 
both  her  fore-paws  on  my  face,  and,  while  singing 
all  the  time. works  her  claws  in  and  out.  as  though 
she  were  playing  on  the  piano.  If  she  doesn't 
get.  her  breakfast  just  when  she  wants  it,  she 
will  stand  up  on  her  hind-feet  and  paw  until  we 
feed  her. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  would  like  to  know  how 
to  make  warm  biscuits  that  will  never  give  you 
a  headache,  us  the  common  raised  biscuits  are 
very  apt  to  do.  Take  cold  water,  and  stir  into  it 
fresh  (Irahiim  flour  until  you  have  a  dough  thick 
enough  to  turn  out  on  the  kneading-board  and 
not  have  it  run  over  the  board.  Mix  into  it  just 
enough  flour  so  that  you  can  roll  it  out  and  not 


have  it  stick  to  the  hands.  Roll  it  about  an  inch 
thick  ;  cut  with  a  biscuit-cutter,  and  prick  the  top 
of  each  biscuit  with  a  fork.  Have  your  oven  very 
hot,  just  as  hot  as  you  can  get  it.  Bake  until  well 
browned. 

The  secret  of  success  lies  in  getting  the  dough 
lust  the  right  thickness,  and  having  your  oveu 
hot.  They  may  not  be  good  at  first,  for  although 
they  seem  simple,  they  are  hard  to  get  just  right. 
They  will  certainly  not  be  good  if  you  do  not 
have  fresh  Hour.  These  gems  are  delicious,  either 
hot  or  cold,  eaten  in  milk,  or  with  butter  or  honey. 
I  can  make  Southern  corn-bread.  LOUISE  B. 

I  shall  make  some  biscuits  from  your  receipt, 
and  have  them  for  breakfast  some  morning  soon. 
Send  your  receipt  for  Southern  corn-bread  if  you 
please. 

JERSEY  CITY,  NEW  JERSEY. 

I  thought  I'd  write  a  letter, 

I've  never  written  before. 
My  brother  sent  some  rhymes  of  mine, 

And  now  I'll  send  some  more. 
I'm  living  at  my  grandmamma's 

While  papa  is  at  sea ; 
If  I  could  only  see  him 

How  happy  I  would  be  ! 
I  have  no  pets  to  speak  of, 

Except  a  bird  that  died ; 
I  felt  so  very  badly 

I  very  nearly  cried  ; 
We  buried  him  'neath  the  pear-tree, 

Another  girl  and  I. 
Where  we  had  buried  robins 

That  happened  there  to  die. 
My  grandma  has  a  parrot, 

One  that  my  aunt  did  give  her; 
One  of  the  songs  that  it  can  sing 

Is  " 'Way  down  the  Swanny  Kiver." 
I  have  a  lovely  doll, 

She  is  very  cunning,  too;     . 
She  has  big  brown  eyes 

A-looking  right  at  you  ; 
Also  three  pretty  hats, 

And  six  sweet  little  dresses. 
And  also  brushes  and  combs 

To  curl  her  golden  tresses. 
I  had  her  picture  taken ; 

The  man  said  I  must  be  sober. 
For  if  I  should  smile 

It  might  make  her  laugh  all  over. 
My  dear  doll's  name 

Is  Amy  Alice, 
And  really  she  deserves 

To  live  in  a  palace. 
My  name  is  Cora  Dennistnn, 

And  I'm  eleven  years  old. 
I  hope  at  the  length  of  this  letter 

You  kindly  will  not  scold. 


DAYTON,  OHIO. 

According  to  the  request  of  Amelia  Nurris  F., 
we  write  to  tell  you  that  the  receipt  for  cream 
almonds  in  No.  179  is  excellent.  We  tried  it  this 
afternoon,  and  had  lots  of  fun  while  doing  it. 
They  are  not  quite  hard  yet,  but  we  know  that 
they  will  be  splendid,  for  we  have  been  "  tasting" 
during  all  the  different  stages  of  the  proceeding. 
We  thought  we  would  send  you  a  receipt  in  re- 
turn, hoping  it  will  be  as  nice  as  yours  : 

CHOCOLATE  CREAMS. — Take  half  a  cake  of  Ba- 
ker's chocolate  ;  grate,  and  set  over  the  tea-ket- 
tle ;  while  hot  drop  in  the  cream  moulds,  which 
are  made  of  two  cups  of  sugar  and  half  a  cup  of 
water ;  boil  three  minutes ;  after  it  begins  to 
bubble  remove  from  the  stove,  and  flavor  with 
vanilla  ;  stir  until  cold  enough  to  make  in  moulds  ; 
after  the  chocolate  is  added  put  them  on  butter- 
ed paper  to  harden.  SOPHIE,  ALICE,  and  MORA. 

The  Little  Housekeepers  are  coming  to  the  front 
in  force  this  week. 

WALNTT  HILL,  DELAWARE. 

I  want  to  send  a  receipt  to  the  Little  House- 
keepers which  we  have  tried  and  find  very  good  : 

GOLD  CAKE.— Three  eggs  beaten  separately,  one 
cup  of  white  sugar,  half  a  cup  of  butter.  t\\<>- 
thirds  of  a  cup  of  milk,  flour  sufficient  to  make 
the  mass  as  stiff  as  pound-cake,  and  one  tea- 
spoonful  of  Kumford's  yeast  powder  ;  flavor  with 
vanilla. 

I  will  send  silver  cake  next  week, which  is  much 
better  than  gold  cake.  E.  T.  II. 


ALLEGHENY  CITY,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

A  great  many  of  my  little  friends  have  asked 
me  for  suggestions  for  building  a  doll's  house. 
My  plan  has  been  so  successful  that  il  may  be  of 
use  to  some  of  the  subscribers  to  HARPER'S  YOI-NG 
PEOPLE.  I  first  procured  two  boxes,  generally 
tea-boxes,  about  eighteen  inches  square.  These 
I  placed  side  by  side  on  the  floor  against  the  wall, 
the  side  toward  the  front  being  open.  Boxes  an 
inch  smaller,  on  top  of  these,  formed  the  second 
floor.  The  at  tic  consisted  of  one  small  In  >\  placed 
on  top  of  the  second  story.  The  inside  walls  and 
ceilings  I  papered  with  the  scraps  of  wall-paper 
left  after  the  rooms  in  our  house  had  been  pa- 
pered. The  floors  I  covered  with  pieces  of  car- 
pet, either  new  or  scraps  cut  off  when  an  old  car- 
I"  i  lias  been  made  i  .  in  a  smaller  r n. 

In  these  rooms  I  placed  my  furniture.  And  in 
case  I  did  not  have  enough  for  all  my  rooms  I 


MAY  15,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


447 


manufactured  more  out  of  tiny  card-board  box- 
es, using  oblong  boxes  for  the  beds,  covering 
them  first  with  pieces  of  muslin  or  bright-colored 
chintz.  A  ruffle  around  the  edge  of  the  muslin 
when  allowed  to  fall  over  the  sides  formed  a 
screen  sucli  as  is  seen  on  very  old  four-post  bed- 
steads. Acre  )ss  the  front  of  each  room  I  hung  cur- 
tains  on  cords  stretched  from  the  two  upper  cor- 
ners. 'I'll--  curtains  not  only  looked  nicely  when 
drawn  for  the  night,  but  served  to  keep  out  the 
dust.  EDITH  McC. 

A  little  girl  who  shows  so  much  cleverness  in 
makingahouse  for  herdolls  will  furnish  her  own 
home  tastefully  when  she  shall  be  older. 


NlCHOLASYlLLE,  KENTUCKY. 

We  are  two  little  neighbor  girls  who  are  each 
:i-' -'I  ~ix.  and  named  Sallie  ami  .iessie  We  love 
to  play  together :  s<  .met  imcs  \\ .-  ily  kites  or  take 
walks,  and  most,  of  nil  \ve  love  to  pu!l  the  flowers, 
and  play  housekeeping  with  our  dolls.  The\  arc 
named  Sallie,  Jessie, Belle, and  Brown,  (mi- cat 
has  no  name.  The  canary  is  named  r|;ni<ie,  ;,n,i 
sings  all  the  time.  We  li'k'e  to  hear  the  stories 
and  letters  in  YITM;  PEOPLE,  and  have  never 
seen  a  letter  from  this  place.  Sallie's  mother  is 
writing  this  for  us.  and  we  are  going  to  put  it  in 
the  Post-office,  and  hope  you  will  print  it. 

SALLIE  A.  and  Jussn:  (i. 


0« 


A  few  weeks  ago  the  Postmistress  asked  fur  a 
description  of  a  ora/\  quilt  I  call  it  a  kaleido- 

SOOpe  quilt,     rut  the  lining  in  diamond  shaj r 

in  squares,  and  take  a  piece  ot  silk,  or  wha  t  '-\  >-r 
material  it  is.  any  shape  at  all.  and  beginning  iu 
the  centre,  sew  down  one  side ;  then  turn  it  over 
and  baste  it  down  very  neatly  all  around  s,  \\ 
a  piece  next  to  it  in  the  same  \\ay.and  so  on 
until  the  diamond  or  square  is  all  covered 

I  am  very  fond  of  sewing  ami  fancy  work.  I 
have  finished  one  calico  quilt,  and  have  nearly 
clone  allot  her:  I  am  going  to  begin  two  silk  one's 
when  I  get  this  one  finished.  1  am  also  \  cry  fond 
of  reading,  ami  ha\e  a  great  many  books.  My 
favorite  maga/.ines  are  J!  \I:I-KI:'S  ^  oi  \,,  PEOPI  i 
and  VI.  Xlclmlux.  \\'e  have  had  wild  flowers  now 
for  about  a  week.  1  am  trying  to  learn  the  sci- 
entific names  for  all  of  them.  We  have  out  now 
the  7/</'"//.v/  trtli'lnt,  i  he  saiiyuinariQ  <'ni«i<l,  nxi*. 
and  the  AiKiitoitt  an  tnaroxii.  The  pressed  ones 
inclosed  are  tor  the  Postmistress. 

1  w  ould  like  to  be  one  of  the  Little  Housekeep- 
ers. I  send  a  receipt  tor 

TKAI'AKK.     Kent  oi gg  very  light,  put  it  into 

a  tea  cup.  and  till  up  with  sweet  cream  :  add  one 
cupful  of  white  sugar,  one  of  flour,  a  pi  net  i  of  salt, 
one  tea-spoonful  of  cream  of  tartar,  and  half  a 
tea-spoonful  of  soda.  Mix  the  cream  ol  tartar  in 
the  flour,  and  put  the  soda  iu  the  cream. 

M  v  v  E.  O. 

Thanks  for  the  pressed  flowers.  Do  you  ever 
embroider  a  flower  or  fasten  a  pretty  picture  in 
applique-work  on  your  silk  patches? 


Ilivv,  ILLINOIS. 

I  am  a  boy  seven  years  old.  I  go  to  school,  and 
am  learning  Long  Division.  I  have  a  lillie  bro- 
ther and  sister:  Horace  is  four  years  old  and  Etta 
three.  They  both  know  all  their  letters,  except- 
ing b.d,  p.  and  q.  but  little  Etta  can  sa\  them  the 
fastest.  One  day  little  Horace  was  en  >ss  because 
he  did  not  find  an  egg  in  the  old  black  biddy's 
nest,  so  he  got  a  stick  and  tried  to  drive  her  on 
the  nest.  I  vyipe  the  table  dishes  for  mamma. 
I  hope  you  will  print  this  letter.  If  you  do  not, 
1  shall  "feel  like  saying  what  my  little  brother 
says,  "Here  is  apoorwittle  boythat  has  wots  of 
trouble."  Papa  gave  me  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  a 
Christmas  present,  and  I  like  it  very  much  indeed. 
I  expect  to  go  to  visit  my  grandma  and  grandpa 
in  New  York  next  summer,  and  perhaps  I  will 
write  you  from  there.  I  hope  my  letter  is  not 
too  long.  LESTEU  CIIAFIN  IS. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

A  good  while  ago  my  mamma  read  to  me  in 
YottM;  PKOPLE  about  how  to  fix  a  box  to  tame  a 
mouse  in.  I  thought  I  would  try  it.  for  I  loved 
pets.  I  caught  one,  and  kept  it  in  the  trap  until 
papa  helped  me  fix  a  box.  He  got  away  when 
we  tried  to  put  him  in,  and  if  he  had  not  fun  up 
my  sister's  dress  I  would  have  lost  him.  I  took 
the  feed-In  is  out  of  my  toy  barn  for  his  little  bed, 
and  hung  the  little  horses'  tin  pails  by  wires  for 
his  food  and  water.  He  got  real  tame  ;  but  one 
morning  I  was  in  an  awful  hurry  to  go  to  school, 
and  mamma  said  she  would  feed  him  for  me ; 
when  she  went  to  the  cage  he  was  not  there  :  he 
had  gnawed  a  little  place  in  the  box  under  the 
wire,  and  had  got  away.  I  was  very  sorry,  but 
then  I  thought  maybe  he  might  like  his  own  little 
house  best.  I  called  this  one  Mr.  Stubbs.  Last 
summer  I  caught  another,  and  named  him  Mr. 
Stnbbs's  Brother.  He  became  so  tame  that  he 
would  eat  from  my  hand,  and  then  store  away  in 
the  corner  of  his  box  all  he  could  not  eat.  ('me 
warm  morning  I  went  to  feed  him,  and  looked 
everywhere  for  his  cage,  and  at  last  found  it  on  a 
window-sill,  where  it  had  been  put  ti  >  keep  ci  nil  at 
night.  The  sun  was  shining  very  hot.  and  the 
poor  little  fellow  was  dead;  he  bad  been  sun- 
struck.  I  was  awfully  sorry;  but  then  I  could 
not  help  it.  I  think  I  never  will  try  to  keep  an- 


other mouse  for  a  pet,  for  I  have  been  so  unfor- 
t  tin. -it-  A.  ERSKINE  G. 

Indeed,  your  mamma  and  sister  must  be  very 
brave.    I  do  not  think  I  could  let  a  little  boy  of 
mine  make  pets  of  mice,  especially  if  they  were 
in  any  danger  of  getting  away  and  hiding  an> 
where  about  my  dress. 


BEAUCLEBC,  FLORIDA. 

I  am  thirteen  years  old.  and  one  of  your  In  >ys. 
I  want  to  tell  you  what  I  do.  as  you  invited  the 
bo\  -  to  do  so.  '  I  have  poultry  to  attend  to  night 
and  morning.  I  have  some  Plymouth* Rocks  and 
i  'ochins.  some  Pekin  and  common  puddle  or  Eng- 
lish ducks.  Then  I  have  young  chicks  and  ducks. 
These  keep  me  busy  quite  a  while.  Then  1  help 
in  the  store  and  Post-office.  We  recite  our  les- 
sons to  mamma.  At  night  I  read  the  papers  iwe 
have  one  for  every  day  in  the  \veeki  and  study 
my  lessons  for  next  day.  In  winter  I  make  the 
til-is  and  get.  wood,  and  now  we  wipe  and  wash 
dishes,  set  the  table,  and  help  mamma.  I  like  to 
read,  and  my  favorite  authors  are  Jimmy  Brown, 
Mr. Otis,  Mr.  stoddard.  Mrs.  Lillie.  Alger.and  ( 'as- 
t lemon.  I  like  tn  play  base  ball  best  of  any  game. 
I  work  in  my  garden,  and  raise  vegetables.  I 
have  young  orange  trees,  and  cultivate  them.  I 
like  to  ride.  too.  and  do  ride  the  horse  here.  We 
have  nice  woods  here,  and  I  like  to  ride  him  in 
the  woods,  especially  when  there  are  ripe  wild 
fruits,  as  there  are  how.  Our  blackberries  are 
all  gone  now-.  Huckleberries  are  ripe,  and  others 
s>  H  in  will  be. 

Today  is  a  rainy  day.  We  have  hail  some 
t'eant  i  I'll  I  <la\  s  |;\  ,T\  t  hing  looked  so  green  and 
pretty.  I  like  the  sunshiny  days. 

I  would  like  to  join  tin-  Housekeepers,  If  you 
will  let  a  boy.  If  I  am  a  boy  [can  do  house  work 
as  well  as  any  girl.  I  tried  some  cake  yesterday 
from  a  receipt  in  Yorxi;  l'i:on  i:  It  was  a  rainy 
afternoon  I  asked  mamma  if  I  miu'iit.and  she 
sail  I  'I  es  ;  so  I  got  Yol'M,  I 'I  on  [  ;nii]  -ot  everj 

thing  ready.  Thisisihe  receipt  I  used-  I  n-' '<! 
nearly  doiililc  the  quantity-  Four  eggs;  half  a 
cupful  of  sugar:  the  same  of  Hour:  juice  of  a 
w  hoi,'  lemon,  and  rind  gra  lei  I  [  In -a  I  I  lie  whites 
and  yolks  separately  I  baked  in  small  scalloped 
and  plain  pans,  and  made  thirteen  nice  little 
cakes  1  made  them  without  a  bit  of  help  at  all. 
and  mamma  says  they  are  as  good  as  any  she 
ever  made.  This  is  my  first  attempt  at  making 
cake,  but  I  ha\i  ottrn  helped  mamma  make 
some.  I  can  eo,  ,k  w  el  I,  too  ;  I  have  done  so  when 

mamma  has  been  sick.    She  says  she  won't  make 

any  more  cake  now  that  I  w  ill  have  to  make  il 
Mamma  has  the  receipt  for  icecream  cake:  I 
will  make  SMine  some  time,  and  send  you  a  piece, 
if  you  would  like  it.  1  will  send  tin-  receipt  soon  : 

I  would  now.  but  I  ba\i   noi  ^ot  it  with  me. 

Your  boy,  FRAM  is  I'.  S. 

I  am  delighted  to  have  such  a  boy  as  yourself 
among  the  Little  Housekeepers,  and  I  IIOJM  t  hen- 
may  be  others  who  will  follow  your  example. 
There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  boys  should 
not  learn  how  to  cook.  The  best  profcs-  i,  ,n,i  | 
cooks  are  men.  and  a  know  ledge  of  the  art  comes 
in  very  nicely  in  ordinary  home  life.  Gentlcm.  n 
when  exploring,  hunting,  fishing,  or  camping 
out  acquire  great  skill  in  preparing  dainty  food. 
which,  they  say,  tastes  better  than  the  besl  'liti 
HITS  they  ever  get  at  home.  In  war-times  sol- 
diers learn  to  make  coffee,  broil  meat,  and  bake 
biscuits  by  their  camp-fires,  and  find  that  they 
can  cook  as  well  as  march  and  tight.  So.  Fran- 
cis, be  sure  you  do  not  forget  to  send  on  the  re- 
ceipt for  ice-cream  cake,  and  "  we  girls"  will  try 
it  at  once. 

Why  should  not  my  boy  readers  form  a  Cook- 
ing Club  of  their  own.  and  send  reports  of  their 
efforts  in  that  line  to  the  Post-office  Box?  There 
is  in  Philadelphia  a  club  composed  of  gentlemen, 
and  one  of  its  rules  is  that  each  member  shall 
know  how  to  cook  one  dish  to  perfection.  At 
certain  periods  this  club  gives  luncheon  parties, 
to  which  the  members  invite  their  lady  friends, 
who  come  to  eat  the  nice  things  and  compliment 
the  skill  of  their  hosts.  How  nice  it  would  be  if 
some  time  this  summer  you  boys,  having  little 
cooking  circles  here  and  there,  should  be  able  to 
invite  your  sisters  and  cousins  to  a  picnic  where 
every  viand  should  have  been  prepared  by  your- 
selves !  What  do  you  all  think  ? 


Herbert  A.  Donalds,  24  Earl's  Lane,  Providence, 
li'nodc  Island,  would  like  to  correspond  with  boys 
who  have  bad  experience  in  the  care  of  rabbits. 
—  Paul  <  i  oh!  sin  Mil.  157  East  Seventy-fourth  Street, 
New  York  city,  edits  and  prints  a  very  pretty  lit- 
tle paper.  He  would  like  other  boys  who  edit 
amateur  or  puzzle  papers  to  exchange  with  him, 
and  sends  a  special  request  to  do  so  to  Robert 
M.  R.,  of  Flushing.  Michigan. — Charming  letters 
have  been  received  from  Maggie  W.  K.,  ISicharil 
V.  I).,  .Tun..  Johnnie  I!..  Jennie  and  Helle  T..K.  J. 
C..  Knnalil  M.  (.'..  Moiilie  M.,  J.  Rogers  II..  liessir 
('..  Chai  lie  D.  M.,  Fiiinilv  K.  II.,  Starr  II.  n..  Fred- 


erick P.  1!.,  Milton  T.  B.,  A.  Theo.  W.,  St.  Elmo  S., 
Klizn  K.  (i..  Hannah  «.  0.,  May  K.,  Lucy  M.  M., 
and  Edris  H.  M.  I  hope  all  these  children  will 
accept  thanks  and  love  from  the  Postmistress, 
and  write  again.— Millie  s. :  What  a  docile  eat. 
and  yet  he  did  kill  the  chickens  !— Xornian  M.: 
You  did  not  come  and  speak  to  me  at  the  fair. 
Perhaps  you  did  not  know  I  was  there.— Mary  A. 
T. :  I  never  heard  of  a  black  Snnwfluke  before. 
— J.  ('.  J. :  I  hope  I  may  some  time  hear  your  per- 
formances on  the  violin,  and  join  in  the  encores. 
—  Hattio  W. :  Write  whenever  you  please,  dear. 
— Josie  S.  E.:  Would  "Six  Jolly  Girls"  do  as  a 
name  for  your  club,  or,  still  better,  "  Half  a  Doz- 
en Sunbeams" ';  I  hope  you  will  have  good  times 
together. — K.  M.  B. :  So  you  waved  your  hand- 
kerchief at  Mr.  Thomas  when  you  went  to  the 
Philharmonic.  Well,  1  have  often  waved  mine. 
\Vi Ten't  you  sleepy  the  next  day? — Bertha  and 
Marion:  Your  puzzles  are  very  good. — Alice  L. 
B.  :  I  wonder  if  any  other  little  girl  besides  your- 
self makes  a  pet  of  a  flying-squirrel? — Jack  and 
Fi-nlio:  There  is  no  charge  for  the  insertion  of 
exchanges,  and  the  columns  are  open  to  all  our 
young  readers,  but  the  exchanges  must  be  brief. 
We  have  not  room  for  long  ones. — Lulie  A.  1>.  : 
Wiggles,  sometimes  called  "recondite  forms, " 
are  lines  which  form  portions  of  the  oxtlint*  of 
pictures.  When  a  new  \Viggle  is  given  it  forms 
part  of  the  outline  of  a  picture  already  drawn  by 
"our  art  ist  "  \  our  oh  jcct  and  that  of  the  other 
girls  and  boys  who  try  to  solve  the  Wiggle  prob- 
lem should  be  to  draw  a  picture  containing  this 
line.  The  little  artist  whose  picture  most  nearly 
rc-i  nil'les  the  picture  originally  drawn  by  "mir 
artist"  is  called  the  Successful  Wiggler.  This  ex- 
planation has  been  made  before,  but  is  repeated 
for  your  benefit  and  that  of  others  who  have 
been  puzzled  to  know  just  what  was  meant  by 
i  In  \\  iggles.  Always  be  sure  to  draw  your  Wig- 
gles with  care,  and  send  them  as  promptly  as  you 
can  after  the  reception  of  a  new  Wiggle. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

ZHiZAGS. 

1.  A  planet,  2.  A  fruit,  3.  Playthings.  4.  An 
animal,  ft.  A  valley.  6.  To  flow  gently.  7.  A 
small  bird.  8.  A  mineral.  9.  To  gain.  IU.  Priva- 
tion. Zigzags— A  sign  of  spring. 

KING  CHARLES. 


N...  •;. 

ENIGMA. 

In  curl,  not  in  hair. 

In  your,  not  in  their. 

In  bought,  not  in  sold. 

In  pearls,  not  in  gold. 
My  whole  is  an  island  not  very  far  off. 
Where  the  jay-bird  died  of  the  whooping-cough. 
BERTHA  and  MARION. 


No.  3. 

REVERSIONS. 

1.  Reverse  to  move,  and  get  an  animal.  2.  Re- 
verse a  tropical  plant,  and  get  a  month.  3.  Re- 
verse an  apartment,  and  get  a  marsh.  4.  Reverse 
to  pinch,  and  get  a  useful  article. 

KING  CHARLES. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  182. 
No.  1.  Campbell. 

No.  2.  Jupiter.    Rifles. 

No.  3.  Looking-glass. 

No.  4.  Cherry. 


Answer  to  puzzle  on  page  416  of  No.  183 : 
12    1    '.I    ('<    Ijmiliin  Assurance. 
31158    Measure  for  Measure. 
7    4    2  10    Antony  and  Cleopatra. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Bertha  and  Marion.  Walter  A.  May,  A.  A. 
Beebe,  Freddie  J.  Faulks.  Helen  W.  Gardner.  Har- 
ry II.  Homer.  LenaB.  W.,  Blanche  Hulbert.  Frank 
liendrickson,  Frank  Reed.  Frank  Murphy,  J.  F. 
Ritchie.  Elma  H.  Pennypacker.  Maggie  Hayes,  A. 
Bancroft.  Eddie  A.  Macklin.  Helen  L.  Jackson, 
Charlie  F  Macklin.  Walter  Mori-ill,  Mabel  B.  Can- 
non. Louis  How.  Red  Wolf,  Joseph  Warner.  Hat- 
tie  Hildreth.  Charles  H.  Weigle,  .Inn..  Jonathan 
Granger,  Molly  Paine,  Rebecca  Clayton,  Maurice 
Rice,  Anselm  Deyo,  Princess  Daisy,  and  Bessie 
Culver. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


448 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MOTHER    OWL. 


"WHO  STOLE  THE  CARDINAL'S  HAT?* 

THE  children  being  seated  in  a  circle,  a  child  who  does  not 
take  part  in  the  game  whispers  to  each  of  the  rest  a  name' 
representing  some  color,  as  "Red-cap,"  "Bine-cap,"  "Yellow- 
en])."  etc.  Two  players  are  excepted,  one  of  whom  is  called 
"My  Man  John,"  and  one  represents  the  Cardinal.  The  latter 
now  leaves  the  room,  first  placing  in  the  hands  of  "  John"  a  little 
billet  of  wood,  bidding  him  take  care  of  the  Cardinal's  hat,  which 
at-  the  same  time  he,  declares  to  be  of  some  particular  color,  as 
green.  John  conceals  this  somewhere  in  the  room. 

The.  child  who  went  out  then  enters,  armed  with  a  cane,  and 
demands  the  Cardinal's  hat.  John  aft'ects  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  it,  and  asks,  "What  color  was  it — green  ?"  and  so  on 
until  he  guesses  the  color.  Being  thus  reminded,  he  declares 
that  some  one  of  the  group,  as,  for  example,  Red-cap,  lias 
stolen  it.  Red-cap  is  now  asked  by  the  questioner,  "Red-cap, 
did  you  steal  the  Cardinal's  hat?"  He  also  must  pass  on  the 
charge,  saying,  "  No,  it  was  White-cap"  (or  any  other  color). 

*  From  Games  and  Songs  of  American  Cfiildren.  Collected  and  Com- 
pared by  WILLIAM  WELLS  NEWELL.  Published  by  Harper  .V  Brothers. 


If  he  omits  to  do  so,  or  names  a  color  not  included 
among  the  players,  he  must  pay  forfeit. 

Meanwhile  the  questioner  becomes  indignant  at  the 
numerous  denials,  and  proceeds  to  extort  confession 
by  torture,  rapping  with  his  cauo  the  fingers  of  those 
whom  he  addresses.  If  he  succeeds  in  obliging  any 
child  to  confess,  the  latter  must  pay  forfeit.  At  last 
My  man  John  OWLIS  the  theft,  produces  the  hat,  and 
I  In-  game  is  begun  again,  until  a  sufficient  number 
of  forfeits  have  been  collected. 


IS  IT  POSSIBLE? 

BY  GATII  BRITTLE. 

TEN  weary,  foot-sore  travellers, 
All  in  a  woful  plight, 
Sought  shelter  at  a  way-side  inn 
One  dark  and  stormy  night. 

"Nine  rooms,  no  more,"  the  landlord  said, 

"Have  I  to  offer  you; 
To  each  of  eight  a  single  room, 

But  the  ninth  must  serve  for  two." 

A  din  arose.     The  troubled  host 

Could  only  scratch  his  head; 
For  of  these  tired  men  no  two 

Would  occupy  one  bed. 

The  puzzled  host  was  soon  at  ease — 

He  was  a  clever  man — 
And  to  please  all  his  guests  devised 

This  most  ingenious  plan: 


A 

B 

C 

D 

E 

F 

G 

H 

I 

In  room  marked  A  two  men  he  placed; 

The  third  he  lodged  in  B; 
The  fourth  to  C  was  then  assigned; 

The  fifth  retired  to  D; 

In  E  the  sixth  he  tucked  away, 

In  F  the  seventh  man; 
The  eighth  and  ninth  in  G  and  H, 

And  then  to  A  he  ran, 

Wherein  the  host,  as  I  have  said, 

Had  laid  two  travellers  by. 
Then  taking  one — the  tenth  and  last — 
He  lodged  him  safe  in  I. 

Nine  single  rooms — a  room  for  each — 
Were  made  to  serve  for  ten. 

And  this  it  is  that  puzzles  me, 
And  many  wiser  men. 


l> 


-'     •!-.-   :  '••   "•'  '^'      .  . 

""•"-  :  --\-:i^- 


- 

IN    CENTRAL    PARK. 


'  i    yv,  -;•':••• 


j 


--'-,  «•*• 


A    MONKEY   TRICK. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  186. 


PUBLISHED  BT  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  May  22,  1883. 


Copyright,  1833,  by  HABPIE  Jt  BUOTUSU. 


81.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


YoCXG   PEOPLE'S    COT.— SEE  NEST  PAGE. 


450 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  CHILD  AT  ST.  MARY'S. 

BY  THE  POSTMISTRESS. 

ONE  bright  morning  not  long  ago  I  dropped  my  pen, 
locked  my  desk  with  a  snap,  and  tied  on  my  bonnet. 
"Yes,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I  will  take  a  little  trip  to  St. 
Mary's,  and  see  with  my  own  eyes  the  dear  child  who  is 
the  first  to  occupy  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  Cot,  for 
which  the  boys  and  girls  have  been  sending  their  gifts, 
and  about  which  they  will  all  be  wanting  to  hear." 

I  found  that  our  artist  had  been  before  me,  and  had  al- 
ready made  a  pretty  picture  of  the  dainty  white-dressed 
Cot,  with  its  small  inmate,  and  its  plate  which  tells  to  ev- 
ery visitor  that  your  kindness  and  self-denial  have  given 
the  gentle  Sisters  the  means  to  care  for  your  child.  As 
you  look  at  the  picture,  let  me  tell  you  something  about 
the  hospital,  and  about  Holy  Innocents'  Ward,  in  which 
our  Cot  has  its  place. 

The  dear  child  who  is  in  it  at  present  is  a  little  blue- 
eyed  girl  with  a  thin,  pale  face,  and  a  very  shy  look.  Her 
name  is  Sarah  H.  McShague.  She  is  between  five  and 
six  years  old,  and  has  hip-disease.  As  I  smoothed  the 
soft  brown  hair  which  was  parted  from  her  high  forehead, 
and  took  in  my  own  her  slender  little  fingers,  I  felt  glad 
that  Sadie  had  been  brought  there  for  help,  and  possibly 
for  healing. 

She  is  a  sweet  and  patient  child,  who  smiled  and  blushed 
as  she  talked  to  me.  The  Sister  said  she  had  been  very 
homesick  for  the  first  day  or  two  after  she  came,  but  that 
most  of  the  little  ones  were  so.  In  a  very  short  time  they 
become  used  to  the  hospital,  and  fond  of  the  nurses  who 
give  them  such  tender  and  constant  care.  And  when  the 
hour  at  last  arrives  when  the  doctor  says  they  are  well 
enough  to  go  home  again,  they  are  sure  to  shed  a  good 
many  tears  over  the  parting. 

Little  Sadie  has  a  weight  attached  by  a  cord  to  one  of 
her  limbs,  but  it  is  covered  by  the  sheet,  and  I  would  not 
have  seen  it  unless  I  had  asked  the  Sister  to  show  me  just 
what  was  the  matter.  She  was  sitting  up  in  her  bed,  lean- 
ing against  the  pillow,  and  before  her  on  a  little  tray  were 
a  number  of  toys.  Beside  her  was  a  doll,  which  seemed 
to  be  a  coin  fort.  Perhaps  you  will  be  glad  to  know  that 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  to  be  sent  regularly  to  the 
cot,  so  that  if  you  ever  have  any  messages  for  our  child, 
whether  she  is  Sadie  or  somebody  else,  you  may  send  them 
to  the  Post-office  Box,  and  they  will  get  to  her  in  safety. 

St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital  for  Children  is  under  the 
charge  of  a  Protestant  Sisterhood,  and  is  located  at  Nos. 
405  and  407  West  Thirty-fourth  Street,  New  York.  It  re- 
ceives children  of  both  sexes  between  the  ages  of  two 
and  fourteen  years,  without  distinction  as  to  belief  or  col- 
or. No  cases  of  contagious  disease  are  admitted. 

The  children  brought  here  are  often  sadly  deformed,  or 
have  met  with  dreadful  accidents  from  falls  or  scalds 
through  the  carelessness  of  their  parents.  Often  the  poor, 
hard-working  mothers  are  so  busy  trying  to  earn  bread 
for  the  children  and  money  to  pay  the  rent  that- they  can 
not  take  proper  care  of  the  little  ones,  who  are  left  to  man- 
age as  best  they  may.  Many  of  the  boys  and  girls  in  the 
hospital  have  been  sufferers  most  of  their  lives. 

When  they  enter  St.  Mary's  the  first  thing  the  Sisters 
do  is  to  give  them  a  nice  warm  bath  in  the  basement,  and 
to  dress  them  in  clean  soft  clothing  from  head  to  foot. 
Every  garment  they  have  worn  before  coming  is  sent  to 
their  homes  at  once,  and  they  are  made  perfectly  pure  be- 
fore being  taken  upstairs. 

The  wards  of  the  hospital  are  large,  airy,  and  cheerful. 
Great  windows  let  in  the  sunshine,  and  pictures  hang  on 
the  walls,  while  green  growing  plants  and  blooming  ilow- 
ers  please  and  refresh  the  eyes. 

The  sound  of  merry  voices  and  of  laughter  greeted  me 
as  I  followed  Sister  Catharine  up  the  broad  stair  and  into 
Holy  Innocents'  Ward.  These  little  invalids  were  not 


moping.  No  indeed!  Some  were  sitting  up  in  little  chairs, 
nursing  their  dollies,  many  of  whom  had  bandaged  heads 
and  limbs;  others,  though  in  bed,  had  their  bits  of  worsted- 
work,  or  their  slates  and  books;  and  in  one  corner  a  group 
was  gathered  around  some  young  ladies  who  had  come,  as 
they  do  daily,  to  teach  or  amuse  their  little  favorites. 

Three  times  a  week  a  lady  who  has  a  lovely  voice  goes 
to  the  hospital  to  sing  with  the  children.  In  each  ward 
there  is  an  organ,  and  the  Sister  says  it  is  very  sweet  to 
hear  the  song  of  praise  going  up  from  these  suffering  lit- 
tle ones. 

Remember,  dears,  there  are  no  rosy  or  dimpled  cheeks 
here,  and  no  round  active  limbs  like  yours.  And  yet  the 
children  look  and  are  happy,  and  do  not  fret  or  complain 
as  one  might  almost  expect. 

Attached  to  every  ward  is  a  small  dining-room,  which 
you  would  call  "cunning,"  I  am  sure,  for  in  it  is  a  low 
table  with  dear  little  arm-chairs,  and  here  some  of  the 
children  take  their  meals.  Of  course  very  many  have  to 
eat  in  bed,  and  it  is  quite  an  event  when  they  are  promoted 
to  sit  at  the  dinner-table. 

There  is  a  beautiful  little  chapel  in  the  hospital,  where 
religious  services  are  held.  It  is  a  quiet,  peaceful  place, 
in  which  I  felt  like  lingering. 

But  I  think  you  would  have  liked  better  the  play-room 
at  the  top  of  the  house.  Here  every  day  all  the  little  ones 
who  are  well  enough  to  play  are  brought  up  in  the  eleva- 
tor. There  are  all  sorts  of  toys  here — games,  balls,  tops, 
marbles,  and,  crowning  splendor,  a  baby-house,  into  which 
the  delighted  children  take  turns  in  gazing. 

The  hospital  is  supported  wholly  by  the  gifts  of  the 
charitable.  During  last  year  two  hundred  and  four  chil- 
dren were  treated  within  its  walls.  It  has  a  branch,  called 
St.  Mary's  by  the  Sea,  on  Rockaway  Beach,  to  which  many 
of  the  patients  are  taken  every  summer.  Holy  Innocents' 
Ward  was  furnished  by  a  band  of  young-  ladies  who  be- 
long to  the  Church  of  the  Transfiguration,  of  which  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Houghtou  is  rector.  Miss  Faiishawe  and  "Aunt 
Edna"  are  members  of  this  band. 

It  costs  83000  to  endow  a  cot.  For  $200  a  cot  may  be 
supported  one  year,  and  in  some  cases  this  is  done  by  peo- 
ple who  wish  to  help  a  good  work,  or  to  pay  in  this  way  a 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  some  one  whom  God  has  taken. 
Surely  the  blessing  of  the  Master  who  loved  little  children 
attends  those  who  do  this  in  His  name. 

Visitors  are  welcome  at  the  hospital  every  day  from  11  to 
12  o'clock  A.M.,  and  from  2  to  4  o'clock  P.M.  I  hope  some 
at  least  of  our  little  readers  will  go  to  take  a  peep  at  Young 
People's  Cot. 

THE  OLD  MEN  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN. 

AN  ADVENTURE  IN  WESTKUX  INDIA. 

BY  DAVID  KER. 


/~VH,  Ella,  we've  lost  our  way!" 


There  was  certainly  some  reason  for  Miss  Sotner- 
ford's  tone  of  dismay,  and  for  the  startled  look  which  her 
words  brought  out  upon  the  face  of  her  charming  cousin. 
For  two  young  ladies  to  lose  themselves  in  a  lonely  part  of 
the  "Ghauts,"  as  the  natives  call  the  hilly  region  between 
Bombay  and  Poonah,  with  night  coming  on,  and  every 
appearance  of  a  storm,  was  not  exactly  the  most  agreeable 
situation  possible,  and  so  evidently  thought  Fanny  Somer- 
ford,  and  likewise  her  cousin  Ella. 

'And  it's  getting  dark,  too,"  whimpered  Fanny,  who 
had  only  the  day  before  been  longing  for  a  chance  of 
showing  how  well  she  could  face  any  sudden  danger. 
"What  ever  shall  we  do  ?" 

"We  must  just  go  a  little  higher  up  the  hill,  and  try  if 
we  can  see  the  road  from  there, "answered  Ella,  who  was 
the  bolder  spirit  of  the  two. 

No,  don't  leave  me — there's  a  dear  ;   I'm  sure  I  see 
somebody  coining  up  the  hill,"  pleaded  poor  Fanny. 


MAY  22,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


451 


"So  there  is,"  cried  Ella,  joyfully ;  "it's  a  native  boy, 
and  we'll  just  ask  him  to  direct  us." 

"  But — but  won't  it  be  rather  a  risk  '."  objected  her  cous- 
in, nervously.  "Suppose  he  should  lead  us  wrong,  and 
bring  us  into  a  robber's  den  or  something  !  I've  heard  of 
such  things.'' 

"So   have  I — in  romances,"  laughed  the  bolder  lady. 
"My  dear  Fanny,  people   aren't    robbed    and    murdered 
hen-   nowadays,  ill  broad  daylight,  close  to  a  railway  sta 
lion." 

She  stepped  forward  and  found  herself  face  to  face-  with 
a  creature  which,  but  for  the  words  of  astonishment  that 
it  nttercd  at  her  sudden  appearance,  might  well  have  been 
mistaken  fora  monkey  just  escaped  from  some  /oological 
garden.  It  was  barely  four  feet  in  height,  brown  and 
shrivelled  as  a  dried  sea  weed,  with  just  enough  clothes 
upon  it  to  have  made  a  good  .si/.ed  pocket  handkerchief, 
anil  sutlicieiitly  monkey-like  to  pu/./.le  an\  one  >.\  ho  had 
not  been  long  enough  in  India  to  get  used  to  the  sight  of 

Sllcll    hobgoblins. 

As  the  thing  came  to  a  halt.  Mi»s  HI  la  mustered  her  few 
words  of  Hindostani  to  accost  it.  and  ask  it  to  show  her 
the  way  to  the  I'pper  (lhaut  House. 

"  What  you  give  me  s'pose  1  show  yon  .'"  demanded  |]n. 
scarecrow,  in  broken  English,  with  the  true  Hindoo  in- 
stinct of  making  the  best  bargain  out  of  every  th  mj 

The  \oung  lady  oll'ered  him  a  rupee  (about   til'ty  centsi. 

"No  want  rupee  want  dis."said  tin-  young  dark\. 
touching  the  red  w<iollen  scarf  that  Klla  uore  around  her 

neck.     " S'pose  Miss  Baba*  give  me  dis,  dat  time  l  shov, 
right  way." 

"Let  him  have  it,  by  all  means.  ( i  ive  him  anything 
he  wants,  and  let  us  get  home  before'  it  grous  dark."  said 
Fanny  .  in  a  ternlied  whispc'r. 

"A  likely  story  indeed  '."  answei-ed  Klla,  indignant  ly. 
"that  I  should  give'  my  father's  birthday  present  to  a  lit- 
tle imp  like  that  !  Here.  boy.  I  can't  give  you  this,  but  if 
you'll  take  us  home  I'll  give  you  a  rupee  and  a  half  the 
moment  we  get  there." 

"  No  want  rupee."  repeated  the  young  savage — "want 
dis,"  and  once  more  he  touched  with  his  lean  bro\\  n  fore 
linger   Miss  Somerford's  scai'f,  the  bright  color  of  which 
had  taken  his  fancy  very  strongly. 

"  Well,"  said  Ella,  with  an  idea  of  gaining  her  object 
without  losing  her  scarf.  "  show  us  the  way  lirst.  and  ue'll 
settle  about  that  afterward." 

The  boy  gave  a  peculiar  grin,  and  led  the  way  up  the 
hill-side  at  such  a  pace  that  the  two  girls,  active  as  they 
\\  ere,  had  quite  enough  to  do  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"  Klla,"  whispered  Fanny,  drawing  close  to  her  cousin's 
side,  "I'm  quite  sure  this  boy's  leading  us  wrong.  Just 
fancy,  if  he  should  be  taking  us  into  a  nest  of  those  dread- 
fid  strangling  people  that  we  used  to  hear  about  !" 

"  If  he's  led  us  wrong,"  rejoined  Ella,  boldly,  "  we  can 
soon  settle  that.  I  see  some  old  men  sitting  among'  the 
trees,  and  we'll  just  ask  our  way  of  them." 

As  she  spoke  they  came  out  into  a  kind  of  clearing, 
where  they  beheld  a  very  curious  sight. 

Grouped  together  in  the  centre  of  the  clearing  were 
about  a  score  of  dwarfish  figures,  whose  broad,  black,  ugly 
faces  \\ere  fringed  with  thick  white  beards,  giving  them  a 
very  queer,  uncanny  look.  They  seemed  to  be  holding  a 
sort  of  council,  for  they  were  all  seated  upon  the  ground, 
with  their  hands  on  their  knees;  but  one  and  all  were  per- 
fectly silent,  and  this  utter  stillness,  together  with  their 
extraordinary  appearance,  impressed  Ella  so  strongly  that 
she  hesitated  to  speak  to  them. 

At  length  plucking  up  courage,  she  approached,  and 
was  about  to  speak,  when  all  at  once  the  supposed  old  men 
sprang  up,  with  a  shrill  chatter,  making  grimaces  hideous 
enough  for  the  worst  lunatic  in  Bedlam.  Then  the  ladies 

*  The  native  term  for  :m  uiiimirrieil  liulv. 


perceived  that  their  "old  men"  were  neither  more  nor  less 
than  the  bearded  monkeys  of  the  East  Indies. 

They  at  once  shrank  back  among  the  trees,  and  aided 
by  the  gathering  darkness,  succeeded  in  slipping  safely 
by.  But  the  mischievous  boy  did  not  escape  so  easi- 
ly; for  one  of  the  monkeys,  either  provoked  by  his  antics, 
or  mistaking  him  for  another  monkey  from  some  hostile 
tribe,  caught  up  a  stick,  and  rushed  furiously  at  him.  The 
boy  fled  in  terror;  but  fast  as  he  ran.  the  monkey  ran 
faster  still,  and  in  another  moment  shrill  cries  of  pain 
were  heard  from  below,  showing  that  the  young  rogue 
had  got  his  deserts  at  last. 

"Serves  him  right, "said  Klla.      "  He  wanted  to  give  UK 
a   fright,  and    now  he's  got    one  himself.      However,  he's 
done  us  a  good  turn  without  intending  it,  for  I  see  some 
thing  like  a  road  down  yonder,  and  I  think  it  must  be  the 
very  one  we're  looking  for." 

It  was  so.  sure  enough,  and  in  another  half-hour  they 
\\cre  safe  at  home  again. 


SEA-URCHINS. 

l\\      SARAH     IOOPEH. 

11  "'HAT  funny,  prickly  creatures  the  sea-urchins  are! 
T  T  A  person  niiLjbt  easily  mistake  them  for  u Teen  chest- 
nut burrs  scattered  on  the  beach,  and.  glancing  up  hastily, 
might  almost  expect  to  lind  the  overhanging  brandies  of 
a  great  chestnut  tree.  Hut  we  see  no  tree,  and  by  this 
time  the  prickly  green  things  may  have  st  retched  out  I  heir 
purple  suckers  and  begun  to  drag  themselves  over  the 
beach.  This  prompts  us  to  place  them  among  the  ani 
ma  Is.  We  have  seen  I  he  same  met  hod  of  travelling  prac- 
liced  by  our  old  friends  the  star-fish,  but  surely  these 
round  creatures  can  be  nothing  like  star  lish. 

Yes.  my  dear  friends,  that  is  just  what  they  are  like, 
and  I  think  we  shall  soon  discover  a.  close  relationship  be- 
t  u  een  the  two.  We  might  almost  say  that  the  sea-urchin 
i  Fig.  li  is  a  star-lish  that  has  got  up  in  the  world,  and 
folding  its  rays  toe-ether  side  by  side,  has  i.  oncluded  to  live 
henceforth  shut  up  in  its  beautiful  round  box. 

We  sometimes  find  the  empty  white  shells  of  sea-urchins 
that  have  lost  their  coating  of  prickles  or  spines,  as  they 
are  properly  called.  The  shells  are  ornamented  with 
rows  of  dots  and  knobs  with  open  lace-work  between,  and 
they  are  very  elegant,  being  scarcely  thicker  than  an  egg- 
shell. This  shell  is  not  one  globular  piece,  as  you  might 
suppose,  but  it  consists  of  several  hundred  little  plates  ex- 
quisitely tilted  together,  and  forming  a  true  mosaic,  as  seen 
in  Fig.  2.  On  the  inside  of  the  shell  you  can  easily  see 
the  lines  where  these  plates  are  joined,  and  if  I  am  not 
greatly  mistaken  you  will  be  charmed  with  those  double 
rows  of  lace-work  which  divide  the  shell  into  five  equal 
sections.  Let  us  see  what  they  mean. 

If  we  should  place  a  star-fish  011  the  table  with  its 
mouth  down,  and  bend  its  rays  backward  until  they  meet 
together  on  top,  and  the  edges  of  the  rays  touch  each 
other,  we  should  have  the  general  plan  of  a  sea-urchin. 
Do  not  imagine  that  star-fish  ever  do  turn  into  sea- 
urchins.  I  merely  wish  to  show  you  the  similarity  of 
their  structure. 

According  to  this  arrangement  the  double  rows  of  per- 
forated plates  would  represent  the  middle  of  the  rays  of 
the  star-fish  where  the  tube-feet  are  situated,  while  the 
broad  belt  of  knobs  corresponds  with  the  strip  of  spines  on 
both  edges  of  the  ray.  The  mouth  would  be  underneath, 
and  you  would  of  course  look  for  the  five  eyespecks  on 
the  top  where  the  ends  of  the  rays  meet.  You  will  also 
find  the  madreporic  body  at  the  top,  a  little  011  one  side. 
This  small  sieve,  which  is  so  interesting  in  the  star-fish, 
performs  the  same  service  for  the  urchin,  and  prevents 
the  entrance  of  any  sand  or  other  solid  substance  into  the 
five  tubes  that  pass  under  those  holes  in  the  shell. 


452 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Fig.  1. — UNDER  SURFACE  OF  A  SEA-URCHIN,  SHOWING 
Kows  OF  SUCKERS  AMONG  THE  SPINES. 


Through  these 
holes  are  pro- 
truded the  dou- 
ble rows  of 
tube-feet,  just 
like  those  we 
have  studied 
in  the  star-fish 
and  worked  in 
the  same  man- 
ner. It  adds 
much  to  the 
beauty  and  in- 
terest of  the 
shell  to  know 
that  these  love- 
ly fine  dots 
are  openings 
through  which 


the    tube  -  feet 

are  supplied  with  water  from  inside  the  shell.  In  the  dia- 
gram (Fig.  4)  the  madreporic  body  is  shown  at  /,  and  the 
tube-feet  with  their  little  water-bags  at  p.  Sea-urchins 
move  by  means  of  their  tube-feet,  which  may  be  lengthen- 
ed so  as  to  extend  far  beyond  the  spines. 

The  shell  fits  the  animal  exactly  in  its  infancy,  and  must 
still  serve  it  in  old  age,  for  urchins  never  cast  off  their 
coats  as  crabs 
or  lobsters  do. 
Being     form- 
ed   of    many 
small    pieces, 
it  grows  a  lit- 
tle all  over,  as 


Fig.  2.— SHELL  OF  SEA-URCHIN  WITHOUT  SPINES. 


show 

you.  Each 
plate  is  sur- 
rounded by 
living  flesh. 
This  flesh  se- 
cretes lime 
from  the  sea 
water  and  de- 
posits it  round 
the  edge  of  the 

plates,  thus  increasing  the  size  of  the  shell  uniformly. 
After  sea-urchins  die  the  spines  drop  off;  the  shell  is  so 
frail  that  it  too  is  soon  broken,  the  plates  falling  apart. 

Do  not  omit  to  look  at  the  spines  with  your  micro- 
scopes, and  see  what  beautifully  carved  columns  they 
are  (Fig.  3).  Falling  about  on  the  back  of  the  urchin, 
they  remind  one  of  a  sadly  neglected  grave-yard  with 

its  tottering  monuments. 
Each  spine  is  hollowed  at 
the  end  to  fit  a  knob  on  the 
shell.  This  forms  a  per- 
fect ball-and-socket  joint, 
which  is  supplied  with  del- 
icate muscles  to  move  the 
spines.  As  the  creature 
travels  along  the  spines  are 
constantly  working,  and 
they  look  as  if  they  too 
wanted  to  help.  In  some 
species  the  spines  are  very 
large,  and  they  are  used  for 
slate-pencils.  We  should 
think  it  quite  luxurious  to 
have  such  artistic  pencils, 
but  many  boys  and  girls  in 
out-of-the-way  places,  espe- 
cially where  fishing  ves- 
sels bring  home  curiosities 


Fig.  3.— SPINE  op  SEA- 
URCHIN  MAGNIFIED. 

a,  Cross  Section. 


Fig.  4.— SECTION  OF  A  SEA-URCHIN. 
a.  Mouth  ;  c.  Stomach  :  it.  Intestine  ;  o,  Anus ; 
r.  Heart ;  f,  Madreporic  body  ;  J7,  Main  wa- 
ter-tube ;  'p.  Tube-feet ;  2,  Spines. 


from  foreign  shores,  have  puzzled  over  their  exam- 
ples and  written  their  copies  with  these  elegantly  fluted 
spines.  I  wonder  if  they  had  any  trouble  to  keep  their 
points  sharp,  and  whether  they  knew  their  pencils  had 
grown  on  the  backs 
of  sea-urchins  ? 

Did    you    notice 
the   white    spot   in 
the  middle  of  Fig. 
1,  also  the  pointed 
beak  near   the  top 
of  Fig.  2  ?     Both  of 
them  show  the  five 
white   teeth   which      riC 
come  together  in  a 
point,  and  may  be 
extended  beyond  the 
shell   just   as   they 
are    in    Fig.   2.      I 
hope   you   will   ob- 
serve what  a  great 
step  forward  the  sea- 
urchin  has  made.     We  have  found  nothing  like  teeth  be- 
fore in  the  lowly  creatures  we  have  been  studying,  and 
here  comes  the  urchin,  armed  with  five  hard  white  teeth, 
having  sharp  cutting  edges  like  a  rat's  teeth.      Each  tooth 
has  a  separate  jaw  of  its  own,  and  is  worked  by  its  own 
muscles.     This  singular  arrangement  has  attracted  much 
attention,  and  from  the 
shape  of  the  jaws  and 
teeth  they  are  known  as 
"Aristotle's  lantern." 

Notice,  too,  in  Fig.  4, 
how  well  the  sea-urchin 
is  supplied  with  organs 
— the  mouth,  a,  the 
stomach,  c,  the  coiled 
intestine,  d,  and  the 
anal  opening,  o — where- 
as our  studies  hereto- 
fore have  been  ani- 
mals with  a  simple  sac 
for  a  stomach,  and  all 
the  refuse  was  return- 
ed through  the  mouth. 

This  highly  favored  individual  has  also  a  heart,  v,  and 
blood-vessels,  although  the  blood  which  passes  through 
them  is  quite  different  from  that  of  higher  animals. 

The  sea-urchins  of  the  Mediterranean  are  larger  than 
ours,  and  are  used  for  food,  either  raw  as  we  eat  oysters,  or 
boiled.  They  were  a  favorite  dish  with  the  ancient  Greeks 


Fig.  5.— SAND-DOLLAR. 


Fig.  6.— KEYHOLE-URCHIN. 


MAY  22,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


453 


and  Romans.  Bunches  of  their  eggs  are  also  offered  for 
sale  as  food  in  the  Italian  cities.  The  eggs  pass  out  of  the 
shell  through  small  openings  near  the  madreporic  liody, 
and  they  are  often  .seen  on  top  of  the  shell,  surrounded  by 
spiiies  which  have  hern  drawn  together  to  hold  them. 

Young  people,  I  notice,  like  to  use  the  proper  names  for 
things,  and  now  thai,  \ve  know  all  this  about  the  sea-urchin 
we  will  give  it  its  right  name,  the  fi-hiinix.  In  your  read- 
ing you  will  also  inert  with  the  word  ei'lii iiinli'riii .  and 
it  will  give  yon  pleasure  to  recognize  it  as  an  old  ac- 
quaintance. Krlniioderin  means  spiny  -  skinned.  It  is 
the  general  name  given  to  star-fish,  sea-urchins,  and  their 
relations,  most  of  which  have  prickly  coverings 

The  echinus  has  a  curious  habit  of  boring  holes  in  hard 
rocks.  It  sinks  in  the  hole  for  a  considerable  distance, 
and  looks  well  satisfied  with  its  snug  retreat.  It  is  not 
understood  how  I  lie  rock  becomes  worn  away,  unless  it  is 
by  a  rotary  movement  of  the  body.  Constant  dropping, 
we  know,  wears  a  stone,  and  constant  turning  and  twist- 
ing may  do  the  same.  There  is  no  doubt  but  the  hole  is 
made  by  the  animal  that  occupies  it,  as  it  tits  exactly, 
whether  the  occupant  be  large  or  small. 

It  is  amusing  to  watch  the  echinus  in  shallow  water 
drag  itself  along  by  its  tube-feet,  and  seeking,  as  if  by  in- 
stinct, to  hide  beneath  the  sea  weeds.  The  animal  will 
sometimes  cover  itself  by  drawing  together  pieces  of  sea- 
\\eed  and  gravel. 

In  visiting  a  g I  museum  you  will  be  surprised  to  see 

how  many  dill'ereiit  varieties  of  these  creatures  there  are. 

Some  species  are  flattened, and  pass  by  tin-  name  of  . -.and 

dollars  i  Fig.  r»,  keyhole-urchins  I  Fig.  lo.  etc.  I  hiring  life 
the  skeletons  of  thrse  animals  were  covered  witli  skin, 
and  furnished  with  a  furr.\  coat  of  little  spines  and  small 

tube-feet. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      ,T  .A.  M  TS.  S      O  T  1  ^ , 
ACTHOR  OP  "  TOBY  TYLER, I'm  AND  TIP,"  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  VOYAGE  BEGUN. 

HOWEVER  much  the  sight  of  Tommy  Tucker  stand- 
ing near  the  beach  as  if  he  were  planning  some  mis- 
chief might  have  troubled  Dare,  he  was  not  allowed  to 
spend  much  time  in  dwelling  on  his  fears. 

The  speed  of  the  steamer  had  hardly  been  checked  by 
the  anchors  before  those  oil  the  beach,  even  including  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kvans,  got  into  the  small  boats  and  rowed  out  to 
the  Pear/. 

"  Now."  said  Captain  Sammy,  in  his  old  commanding 
Way,  after  all  were  ou  hoard,  "we  have  got  to  get  the 
craft  around  to  the  dock  so  that  we  can  get  the  supplies  on 
board.  l>are.  you  go  into  the  pilot-house  and  steer  as 
snug  along  the  shore,  toward  the  dock,  as  possible,  while 
t  he  rest  of  us  pull  her.  Charley  and  Bobby  will  take  one 
boat,  and  Uogcrs  and  I  the  other,  and  if  we  can't  walk  her 
along  ovrr  the  water,  no  one  can." 

The  anchors  were  raised,  the  towing  lines  made  fast, 
and.  under  the  influence  of  four  oars,  the  jaunty  little 
steamer  did  glide  over  tin1  water  at  a  respectable  rate  of 
speed.  ]>are,  who  was  in  the'  pilot  bouse,  was  as  proud 
and  happv  as  any  hoy  could  be  win.  had  unexpectedly 
become  captain  of  as  line  a  steamer  as  the  J'cur/. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kvans,  as  the  passengers,  examined  every 
part  of  the  boat,  and  judging  from  the  admiration  on  their 
faces  when  they  tinished,  it  would  not  have  been  a  difficult 

*  Berlin  i"  N».  IT:.,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


TAKING    IN    STORES. 


451 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


matter  to  have  persuaded  them  to  take  a  short  cruise  in 
her. 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  steamer  was  made  fast  to 
Captain  Sammy's  wharf,  just  opposite  a  large  pile  of  ar- 
ticles which  he  had  laid  out  in  the  morning,  and  which 
were  put  on  hoard  of  her  at  once. 

There  were  tables,  chairs,  bedding  for  the  four  berths, 
and  all  sorts  of  cooking  utensils.  The  last  mentioned 
Captain  Sammy  was  very  careful  about,  stating  as  the  rea- 
son of  his  excessive  precaution  that  he  had  shipped  as  cook, 
and  wanted  to  know  where  all  his  tools  were. 

Then  came  water  casks,  spare  ropes,  spars,  and  cables, 
and  some  of  the  workmen  about  the  dock  were  set  at  work 
tilling  the  tank  with  water,  and  putting  the  coal  oil  board. 

Captain  Sammy  had  taken  good  care  that  there  should 
be  110  delay  about  the  start,  and  to  that  end  had  done  a 
great  deal  of  work  during  the  morning,  as  was  shown 
when  he  handed  Mr.  Evans  a  list  of  eatables  which  he  had 
ordered,  and  which  had  already  been  brought  to  the  dock. 

By  the  time  the  visitors  were  ready  to  depart  there  was 
absolutely  nothing  left  to  be  done,  so  far  as  getting  the 
steamer  ready  for  her  voyage.  Rogers  had  announced 
that  the  engine  was  in  perfect  running  order,  the  boys 
were  sure  that  everything  that  was  needed  was  in  the 
cabins,  and  when  the  last  bushel  of  coal  was  put  on  board, 
Captain  Sammy  said  that  his  portion  of  the  work  was  done. 

All  that  remained  to  be  done  was  for  the  crew  to  get 
their  baggage  on  board,  and  Mrs.  Evans  thought  the  boys 
had  better  sleep  at  the  hotel  that  night,  so  that  during  the 
evening  they  could  pack  everything  which  they  wanted 
to  take  with  them. 

But  now,  as  the  question  of  leaving  the  steamer  alone 
came  up,  Dare  remembered  Tommy's  half-uttered  threat, 
and  he  begged  that  at  least  two  of  them  might  remain  on 
board  to  keep  watch  against  any  mischief  the  ex-pirate 
might  attempt  to  do. 

Captain  Sammy  growled  out  something  about  the  fool- 
ishness of  ever  having  taken  Master  Tucker  from  Dollar 
Island,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  was  not  at  all 
easy  in  his  mind  regarding  Tommy's  ability  to  do  harm. 

Mr.  Evans  seemed  to  understand  that  it  was  not  exact- 
ly safe  to  leave  the  steamer  alone,  and  the  question  of 
lio\v  the  difficulty  should  be  avoided  had  just  come  up  for 
discussion,  when  Captain  Sammy  settled  the  matter  by 
saying:  "You  boys  go  to  the  hotel  and  get  what  things 
you  want  to  take  with  you.  You  can  bring  them  here, 
and  sleep  aboard  to-night.  I'll  stay  here  till  you  come 
back,  an'  if  that  Tucker  boy  so  much  as  shows  his  head 
around  here,  there  won't  be  enough  of  him  left  to  get 
back,  or  my  name  ain't  Sammy  Basset.'' 

This  plan  was  carried  out,  as,  in  fact,  anything  proposed 
by  the  Captain  usually  was,  and  the  boys  left  the  hotel 
two  hours  after,  promising  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans  on 
the  next  morning,  when  they  would  come  down  in  the 
Pearl  to  the  pier  nearly  opposite  the  hotel  on  their  way 
to  the  Everglades. 

When  they  reached  the  steamer  Captain  Sammy  was 
stumping  around  at  a  furious  rate  in  the  standing-room 
aft,  muttering  all  sorts  of  threats  against  Tommy  Tucker, 
whom  he  believed  he  had  seen  skulking  around  the  head 
of  the  dock. 

"  Keep  a  sharp  lookout,"  he  said,  as  he  went  on  shore, 
after  the  boys  had  come  on  board,  "and  if  that  villain 
comes  around  here,  don't  stop  to  have  any  talk  with  him, 
but  hang  him  right,  up."  Then  he  stumped  along  up  the 
pier,  lonkiiig  behind  and  around  everything  large  enough 
to  att'iinl  a  shelter  for  a  boy  of  Tommy's  size. 

I  >ari'  lighted  the  swinging  lamp  that  hung  in  the  centre 
of  the  little  cabin,  and  after  they  had  arranged  their  be- 
longings in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the  place  look  home- 
like, and  put  their  guns  where  they  could  get  at  them 
readily,  the  boys  went  on  deck  to  watch  for  the  approach 
of  the  pirate. 


But  Captain  Sammy  was  either  mistaken  as  to  having 
seen  Tommy,  or  the  boy  had  been  frightened  away  when 
the  little  man  made  the  search  of  the  dock.  After  waiting  a 
little  while  the  captain  and  crew  of  the  Pearl  "turned  in." 

The  novelty  of  the  situation,  and  the  thought  that  they 
were  actually  in  the  steamer  which  was  to  take  them  on 
their  famous  trip,  served  to  keep  them  in  a  state  of  wake- 
fulness  that  almost  amounted  to  remaining  on  watch,  and 
it  was  nearly  morning  when  the  last  one  of  them  sank 
into  a  slumber  that  was  disturbed  by  dreams  of  all  kinds 
of  possible  and  impossible  adventures. 

It  was  hardly  daylight  when  Dare  awoke  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning;  but  he  roused  up  his  crew  so  that  every- 
thing might  be  put  in  the  neatest  trim  before  the  cook  and 
engineer  arrived. 

The  beds  were  made,  the  cabins  swept  again,  and  every- 
thing on  deck  disposed  of  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  the 
best  show,  and  by  sunrise  Captain  Sammy  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  head  of  the  dock. 

He  had  evidently  counted  on  finding  the  boys  asleep, 
and  had  probably  enjoyed  the  idea  of  scolding  them  as 
sleepy  heads,  for  his  face  showed  plainest  signs  of  disap- 
pointment when  he  found  them  up  and  at  work. 

He  had  brought  what  he  called  his  "  dunage"  in  a  can- 
vas bag,  and,  after  throwing  it  carelessly  into  one  of  the 
berths,  he  began  his  official  duties  by  getting'  the  breakfast 
on  the  stove  that  stood  in  one  corner  of  the  engine-room. 

By  the  time  Tom  Rogers  arrived  the  breakfast  had  been 
eaten,  and  he  and  Charley  went  at  once  into  the  engine- 
room.  The  smoke  that  soon  began  to  pour  out  of  the 
smoke-stack  told  that  they  were  getting  ready  for  the  start 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

Soon  the  noise  of  escaping  steam  was  heard,  and  no  un- 
musical sound  ever  rang  on  Dare's  ears  as  pleasantly  as 
did  that. 

He  took  his  station  in  the  pilot-house  some  time  before 
it  was  possible  to  start,  and  swung  the  wheel  around  in 
anxious  expectancy,  while  Bobby  rushed  from  one  end  of 
the  boat  to  the  other  as  if  he  thought  the  entire  business 
devolved  on  him. 

"Now  keep  your  eye  peeled, "said  Captain  Sammy  to 
Dare,  after  what  had  seemed  to  be  a  long  time  of  wait- 
ing. "  Ring  the  bell  once  when  you  are  ready.  I'll  cast 
off  the  lines  now." 

Dare  sounded  the  whistle  just  once  for  the  sake  of  hear- 
ing it.  Bobby  seemed  to  be  lifted  right  off  his  feet  by  the 
music.  Captain  Sammy  cast  off  the  hawsers,  and  Dare 
pulled  the  engine-room  bell  with  a  vigor  that  promised  to 
snap  the  wire  if  repeated. 

Slowly  the  wheels  commenced  to  revolve,  and  the 
Pearl  began  to  glide  away  from  the  dock,  while  from  tin- 
pilot-house,  the  bow,  and  the  engine -room  sounded  a 
shout  of  joy  and  triumph. 

Dare's  head  almost  swam  with  delight  as  the  little 
steamer  went  ahead  at  full  speed;  and  Captain  Sammy 
took  up  his  station  just  in  front  of  the  pilot-house  to  as- 
sure himself  that  the  young  captain  was  not  entirely  un- 
fit for  duty  from  excitement. 

On  approaching  the  pier  at  which  he  was  to  say  adieu 
to  his  parents  Dare  sounded  the  whistle  until  he  saw  his 
father  and  mother  come  out  of  the  house,  and  then  he 
turned  his  attention  to  making  a  creditable  landing. 

Captain  Sammy  contented  himself  by  simply  watching 
Dare's  proceedings,  ready  to  give  a  command  if  necessary, 
but  allowing  the  boy  to  take  his  own  way  so  long  as  he 
was  managing  the  craft  properly. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans  were  already  on  the  pier  when 
Dare  rang  the  first  bell  to  "slow  down,"  and  when  the 
Pearl  was  taken  alongside  the  wharf  almost  as  skillfully 
as  an  experienced  captain  would  have  done  it,  both  his 
father  and  Captain  Sammy  showed  Dare  their  apprecia- 
t  ion  of  his  skill  in  managing  the  steamer. 

The  stay  here  was  not  u  long  one,  for  all  hands  were 


MAT  22,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


455 


anxious  to  be  as  far  on  their  journey  as  possible  before 
night,  since  it  had  been  decided  that,  unless  it  was  quite 
necessary,  the  Pearl  should  not  be  run  after  dark,  there- 
by lessening  the  risks  and  labor. 

Dare  proposed  to  take  his  father  and  mother  out  for  a 
short  sail,  but  Mr.  Evans  refused,  savins  that  if  the  in- 
vitation was  given  on  the  return  from  the  Everglades  it 
might  be  accepted. 

Then  the  "good-byes"  were  spoken,  the  boys  were  cau- 
tioned to  obey  Captain  Sammy,  Dare  went  into  the  pilot- 
house again,  and  everything  was  ready  for  the  actual  be- 
ginning- of  the  voyage. 

The  bell  was  rung  for  the  engine  to  be  started,  the  whis- 
tle sounded  as  a  parting  salute,  and  when  the  wheels  be- 
gan to  revolve,  and  the  Pearl  sailed  swiftly  away,  the  trip 
to  the  Everglades  had  begun. 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CORAL   REEFS. 

IT  was  all  plain  sailing  before  the  Pearl,  and  only  ne- 
cessarv  for  her  captain  to  keep  her  headed  straight  down 
the  bay. 

When  they  were  well  clear  of  the  land  Tom  Ro-.  rs 
tested  the  speed  of  the  little  craft  by  putting  on  all  steam. 
until  it  seemed  as  if  she  flew  along  the  top  of  the  water, 
rather  than  in  it,  and  Charley  and  Hobby,  in  the  bow, 
where  they  could  have  a  full  view  during  this  trial  of 
speed,  could  hardly  control  their  joy. 

Dare  was  <piite  as  much  excited  as  they  were,  but  he 
concealed  it  in  his  desire  to  appear  as  grave  and  dignilied 
as  he  thought,  the  captain  of  a  steamhoat  ought  to  be. 

Ifown  Hillshorough  Bay  the  /  '<  arl  raced,  and  afteraboul 
two  hours  of  the  exciting  spurt  (  'aptain  Sammy  explained 
that  they  had  reached  Tampa  Hay.  which  accounted  for 
the  increased  roughness  of  tln>  water 

Mangrove  Point,  at.  the  mouth  of  Little  Manatee  River, 
was  passed,  and  then  Dare  sleered  ihe  P,-nrt  as  near  to  the 
little  chain  of  reefs  as  he  dared  to  go,  heading  her  direct  1  y 
for  Mullet  Key  as  he  began  to  leave  them  astern. 

Captain  Sammy  left  his  position  <>f  lookout  to  resume 
the  duties  of  cook,  and  when  the  yacht  was  nearly  oppo- 
site Seminole,  Charley,  Hobby,  and  the  cook  had  a  nicely 
served  dinner  of  fried  fresh  lish  and  plenty  of  vegetables. 

Then  the  little  Captain,  with  the  aid  of  the  hoys,  spread 
the  table  again,  and  sent  Charley  to  relieve  Rogers,  while 
he  took  Dare's  place  in  the  pilot-house,  so  the  captain  and 
engineer  had  their  dinner. 

Bobby  had  been  appointed  dish-washer,  and  he  waited 
upon  this  second  table  with  very  little  skill,  and  at  the  ex- 
pense of  two  plates,  which  he  broke  through  attempting 
to  take  them  from  the  stove  when  they  were  so  hot  as  to 
burn  his  fingers. 

When  Dare  went  into  the  pilot-house  again  the  course 
of  the  Pearl  had  been  changed,  and  she  was  running  down 
between  Ana  Maria,  or  Palm,  Key  and  the  mainland. 

"I  guess  we'll  lay  up  in  Sarasota  Bay  to-night,"  said 
Captain  Sammy.  "It's  about  the  half-way  place  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Caloosahatch.ee  River,  and  there  isn't  any 
need  of  rushing." 

Dare  was  perfectly  willing  to  come  to  an  anchor  any- 
where the  little  man  thought  proper,  and  Captain  Sammy 
took  up  his  position  in  the  bows  again,  in  order  that  he 
might  direct  the  course  of  the  yacht  through  the  net-work 
of  small  keys  and  reefs  that  marked  the  entrance  to  Sara- 
sota Bay. 

The  sun  was  still  quite  high  in  the  heavens  when  the 
Pearl  dashed  along  merrily  into  the  waters  of  the  bay, 
and  came  to  anchor  just  inside  a  jutting  point  of  land  that 
formed  a  snug  harbor,  and  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  shore. 

Outside,  seeming  to  shut  out  the  waters  of  the  Gulf  from 
the  bay,  could  be  seen  Long  Boat,  Sarasota,  and  Long 


Keys,  as  if  standing  sentinel  over  the  beautiful  body  of 
water  that  formed  the  hay. 

All  hands  "turned  to,"  under  the  little  Captain's  orders. 
to  make  everything  snug  for  the  night,  and  when  that  was 
done  he  said,  in  his  gruffest  and  most  commanding  tones. 

"No\v,  then,  if  you  boys  are  goin'  ashore,  you  want  to 
do  it  now,  for  your  father  told  me  that  you  was  goin'  to 
find  out  all  about  how  the  reefs  was  made  before  you  got 
back,  an'  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  whole  story  to-niu'ut." 

'The  boys  were  greatly  surprised  at  this  command,  for 
as  yet  they  had  had  no  time  to  learn  anything  of  the 
formation  of  the  reefs,  and  of  course  were  unable  to  give 
Captain  Sammy  the  slightest  information. 

Dare  managed  to  say.  however,  that  they  would  go 
ashore  for  a  short  time,  but  that  they  could  hardly  tell 
anything  about  reefs. 

Captain  Sammy  made  no  reply,  but  busied  himself  with 
his  canvas  bag,  and  the  boys  started  for  the  shore  in  the 
little  tender. 

There  was  very  little  that  was  interesting  to  be  seen  on 
the  shore-  of  Sarasota  Bay,  and  the  boys  returned  to  the 
yacht  before  the  hour  had  passed.  But,  quickly  as  they 
had  returned,  they  found  supper  waiting  for  them,  Cap- 
tain Sammy  and  Rogers  having  already  had  theirs. 

When  they  had  finished  eating,  and  helped  Bobby  in 
his  work  of  clearing  up,  they  filed  into  the  forward  cabin, 
looking  rather  mournful  because  they  were  apparently 
expected  to  recite  a  l<  s-oii  they  had  never  learned. 

It  was  quite  evident  that  some  considerable  preparation 
had  been  made  for  their  reception,  for  the  cabin  table  was 
covered  wilh  hooks,  and  seated  behind  it,  with  his  longest 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  pair  of  cracked  spectacles  on  his 
nose,  was  Captain  Sammy,  assuming  all  the  airs  and  graces 
of  a  count  ry  school  -teacher  of  the  olden  days. 

"  Sit  down  and  be  quiet,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  glaring 
at  them  as  if  lie  suspected  they  intended  to  disobey  him. 

The  boys  did  as  they  were  commanded,  although  Bobby 

was  so  awed  that  he  only  occupied  a  very  small  portion 

of  his  chair,  and  that  directly  on  the  edge,  as  if  he  believed 

it  might  be  necessary  for  him  to  run  away  at  any  moment. 

[TO  HE  CONTINUED.] 


THE  LAND  OP  THE  FEZ. 

BY  HELEN  S.  COXANT. 

IT  is  not  often  that  the  people  of  Europe  and  America 
follow  the  fashions  of  the  East,  but  one  little  article  of 
wearing  apparel  has  come  to  us  from  this  distant  part  of 
the  world  that  is  cei'tainly  very  attractive.  No  rosy- 
cheeked  school-boy  skating  or  coasting  over  wide  fields  of 
ice  and  snow  ever  makes  so  bright  an  appearance  as  when 
his  curly  head  is  surmounted  by  the  jaunty  crimson  "fez." 
He  becomes  a  picturesque  figure  in  the  landscape,  and  we 
follow  the  bright  bit  of  color  with  its  waving  tassel,  think- 
ing how  very,  very  much  prettier  it  is  than  the  dull  cloth 
cap. 

I  wonder  how  many  of  you  that  wear  your  crimson 
head-coverings  with  such  pleasure  ever  think  anything 
about  Morocco,  the  land  from  which  they  come,  or  about 
the  strange  people  that  inhabit  it  ?  What  sort  of  a  cos- 
tume is  the  jaunty  fez  usually  worn  above,  and  who  are 
the  people  who  wear  it  ?  Let  us  see  if  we  can  find  out  a 
few  facts  about  them. 

The  country  of  Morocco,  of  which  Fez  and  Morocco  are 
the  two  largest  cities,  lies  along  the  coast  of  Northwestern 
Africa,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  great  Atlas  Mountains.  The 
inhabitants  are  Arabs,  Moors,  Jews,  and  negroes,  very  few 
Europeans  being  contented  to  make  their  homes  in  this 
strange  and  distant  land.  Many  of  these  people  are  well 
educated,  however,  and  some  of  them  are  very  rich.  As 
in  every  country,  the  Jews  are  a  merchant  class,  and  those 
who  are  successful  in  business  live  in  a  very  luxurious  w-ay. 


456 


HAEPEIl'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A    JEWISH    MAID    OF   MOROCCO. 

Our  girl  readers  will  he  interested  in  the  beautiful  por- 
trait of  "A  Jewish  Maid  of  Morocco"  given  oil  this  page. 
These  Jewish  maidens  are  very  beautiful,  and  while  they 
preserve  the  peculiar  features  of  their  race,  they  are  re- 
markable for  their  delicate  light  brown,  complexions  and 
large  dark  eyes. 

The  young  girls  of  every  country,  I  fancy,  are  fond  of 
dress.  Indeed,  it  would  be  quite  an  unnatural  little  per- 
son who  did  not  like  to  look  pretty,  and  have  people 
around  her  admire  her  costumes;  but  some  of  the  girls  of 
Morocco  are  positively  splendid  in  their  attire.  If  they 
are  at  all  wealthy,  the  amount  and  variety  of  their  jewel- 
ry is  quite  marvellous.  Diamonds  are  not  much  in  use; 
but  rubies,  emeralds  (generally  uncut),  and  pearls  arc 
scattered  about  in  profusion.  They  love  these  glittering- 
things  dearly;  and  on  various  occasions  wear  finger-rings 
and  huge  ear-rings  of  gold  set  with  precious  stones,  neck- 
laces of  amber  and  coral,  massive  bracelets  of  gold,  and 
armlets  and  anklets  of  silver  inlaid  with  gold. 

Let  me  see  if  I  can  describe  to  you  the  articles  that  the 
pretty  maiden  whose  portrait  we  have  here  would  wear 
on  a  state  occasion.  First,  there  would  be  the  fine  em- 
broidered shirt  (kumja),  fastened  down  the  breast  by 
numerous  small  buttons  and  loops,  and  a  pair  of  very 
loose  trousers.  Over  the  shirt  is  a  jacket  (caftan),  usual- 


ly buttoned  in  front,  with  loose 
flowing  sleeves,  and  made  of 
silk  or  satin,  heavily  embroid- 
ered in  bright  colors. 

The  hair  of  the  Jewish  maid 
is  worn  uncovered,  but  after  she 
is  married  she  will  hide  it  care- 
fully away  under  a  handker- 
chief of  black  silk,  over  which 
another  of  gay  colors  is  taste- 
fully arranged.  Her  little  feet 
would  be  incased  in  red  slippers 
embroidered  with  gold.  Then 
would  be  added  the  wonderful 
masses  of  jewelry  I  have  told 
you  about. 

For  out -door  wear  there  is 
one  article  which  no  maid  or 
married  lady  of  Morocco  would 
dream  of  being  seen  without. 
This  is  the  haik,  or  veil,  com- 
mon in  nearly  all  Eastern  coun- 
tries. It  consists  of  a  wide  piece 
of  thin  cotton,  woollen,  or  some- 
times silk  material  about  six 
yards  in  length.  It  is  arranged 
about  the  head  and  also  the  b<  >dy 
in  a  wonderful  series  of  artis- 
tic folds.  The  girls  of  Morocco 
have  a  dainty  way  of  bringing 
the  haik  over  their  faces,  so  that 
nothing  but  one  of  their  bright 
eyes  can  be  seen. 

One  or  two  things  we  have  to 
record  about  these  pretty  Afri- 
can maidens  that  seem  very  ob- 
jectionable. They  have  a  habit 
of  staining  their  finger-tips  a 
bright  red  with  the  juice  of  a 
plant  called  henna,  and  their 
olive  cheeks  are  frequently  cov- 
ered with  rouge.  In  addition  to 
this  they  further  disfigure  their 
fair  faces  by  dyeing  their  eye- 
lashes and  eyelids  with  a  black 
substance  rightly  named  kohl. 

There  is  another  custom, 
however,  whereby  the  maids  of 

Morocco  try  to  increase  their  beauty  which  seems  i-vcii 
more  horrible  than  the  painting  of  cheeks  and  eyelids. 
In  this  part  of  the  world  a  young  girl  is  not  considered 
beautiful  unless  she  is  not  only  plump,  but  what  we 
should  call  positively  fat.  In  order  to  produce  this  flesh 
she  is  made  to  keep  quite  still,  and  forced  to  eat  all  kinds 
of  fattening  things.  Bread  is  broken  into  crumbs,  and 
these  are  moulded  into  pellets  which  are  forced  into  the 
throat,  and  must  be  swallowed  even  though  the  poor  girl 
turns  from  them  in  disgust.  The  name  for  these  pellets 
is  harrabel,  and  they  are  about  the  size  of  a  common  can- 
non shot.  A  seed  called  fenugreek  is  also  made  use  of  in 
great  quantities  for  the  same  purpose.  We  should  think 
our  lithe  and  active  girls  utterly  spoiled  by  all  this  super- 
fluous flesh,  but  in  Morocco  a  woman  can  not  be  too  fat. 

The  Moors  are  a  lazy  people,  and  as  for  the  women, 
they  may  be  said  never  to  walk  at  all.  No  Moorish  maid- 
on  would  know  what  to  make  of  a  party  of  merry  school- 
girls racing  home  after  a  day  spent  over  their  books.  Sin- 
would  think  they  were  quite  crazy.  Indeed,  it  is  from  the 
Moors  that  we  get  the  absurd  adage 

"Never  sit  when  you  can  lie, 
Never  stand  when  you  can  sit, 
Never  walk  when  you  can  stand, 
Never  run  when  you  can  walk." 


MAY  22,  1883. 


IIAUPKirs  YOUNG   1'KnPI.K. 


457 


THOR'S    JOURNEY     TO    JOTUNHEM. 

BY     JAMES     BALD  W I  X. 


CHAPTER  I. 

was  the  greatest  giant-killer  that  ever  lived. 
_L  His  home  was  in  Gladsheim,  on  the  towering  top  of 
Mount  Asgard;  and  he  was  said  to  be  tin-  strongest  and 
bravest,  though  not  always  the  wisest,  of  all  the  good  folk 


Asgard  Mountain  to  the  homes  of  men.  Nor  paused  he 
even  here  until,  on  the  farther  side,  he  came  to  the  tow- 
ering Himminborg.  where  dwelt  his  brother,  the  gold- 
toothed  Heimdal.  Heimdal  was  the  warder  of  the  gods 
ami  the  faithful  keeper  of  the  rainbow  bridge,  and  night 
and  day  he  watched  it  lest  the  giants 
might  force  their  way  over  it,  and 
drive  mankind  from  oft'  the  earth. 
More  wakeful  than  the  birds  was 
Heimdal,  and  his  eye  was  so  piercing 
that,  by  night  or  day,  he  could  see 
everything  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  Himminborg.  His  hearing  too 
was  very  sharp,  for  there  was  no 
sound  that  could  escape  him.  He 
could  hear  the  grass  growing  in  the 
lields.  as  \\ell  as  the  ocean's  roar,  or 
the  storm  clouds'  din;  and  the  silent 
music  of  the  stars,  too  heavenly  for 
our  ears,  cheered  and  gladdened  bis 
me  ire  lonesome  hours. 


' 


Pr 

v,  •  "«*• . 


. 


- 

; 


who  dwelt  there.  When  the  mist  giants  of  the  sum 
mer  wrapped  the  world  in  dark  clouds  and  threat- 
ened to  destroy  the  ripening  harvest.  Thor  harnessed 
his  goats  to  his  great  iron  chariot,  and  with  his 
mighty  hammer  in  his  hand,  rode  out  to  battle  with 
the  foes  of  man,  and  drive  them  back  to  their  aii-v 
homes  in  the  mountains.  And,  later  in  the  season. 
when  the  frost  giants  of  the  North-land  came  nich- 
ing furiously  from  their  chilly  halls  of  Jotiinhem. 
and  sought  to  overwhelm  all  living  beings  with 
their  icy  breath,  he  met  them  single-handed,  and, 
after  months  of  stormy  warfare,  forced  them  to  re- 
turn, beaten  and  ashamed,  to  their  own  cheerless 
land. 

Early  one  fine  morning,  Thor,  standing  in  his  iron 
car,  drove  out  of  Asgard  at  so  rattling  a  pace  that 
all  the  people  were  astonished  at  the  noise  he  made. 
The  din  and  uproar  of  a  common  thunder-storm  were  no- 
thing to  the  uproarious  racket  that  followed  in  the  wake 
of  the  prancing  goats  and  the  rumbling  car.  But  the 
Thunderer,  as  men  called  Thor,  was  so  often  riding  here 
and  there,  and  driving  over  the  rough  clouds,  and  hurling 
his  hammer  at  the  giants  of  mid-air,  that  everybody  had 
long  ago  concluded  not  to  wonder  greatly  at  anything 
he  did.  This  time,  however,  there  was  quite  a  curiosity 
to  learn  where  he  was  going.  But  none  of  his  acquaint- 
ances knew,  and  not  even  Sif,  his  golden-haired  wife, 
could  tell. 

Thor  drove  furiously  onward  until  he  reached  the  shim- 
mering rainbow  bridge,  the  trembling  way  that  leads  from 


THOR   RIDING   THE    RAINBOW. 


lf,S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  rv . 


In  the  peaceful  halls  of  Heiradal,  Thor  staid  many  clays, 
a  loved  and  honored  guest;  and  as  the  brothers  quailed 
I  lie  gladsome  mead  together,  the  pleasant  memories  of 
former  days  were  again  awakened.  Then  Thor  told  his 
brother  the  secret  of  his  journey:  he  was  on  his  way  to 
.lotunheiii.  I  lie  home  of  the  giants. 

"All '."  answered  Heimdal.  "Why  dare  yon  thus  ven- 
ture into  the  stronghold  of  your  foes?  Have  you  not 
enough  to  do  to  ride  in  the  whirlwind  and  the  storm,  and 
to  fight  our  enemies  there  ?  What  if  some  mishap  should 
befall  yon  in  Jotunliem  ?  Then  the  earth  would  miss 
your  thundering  presence  in  the  clouds,  and  the  giants, 
no  longer  fearing  your  hammer,  would  come  in  the  driv- 
ing hurricane  to  lay  waste  the  fields  and  waylay  the  fair 
homes  of  men.  I,  as  well  as  you,  am  a  sworn  foe  to  the 
Jotunliem  giants,  but  I  dare  not  leave  my  post.  Why 
will  you  rush  into  danger?" 

"I  go  to  slay  the  wolf  in  his  lair."  said  Thor.  "Is  it 
not  better  to  meet  our  enemy  and  overcome  him  once  for 
all  than  to  keep  up  this  everlasting  warfare,  which  is 
stayed  only  to  he  begun  again  ?" 

"But  think  of  the  chances  against  you,"  answered 
Heimdal.  "Think  of  what  might  follow  failure." 

"Thor  never  fails,"  cried  the  Thunderer,  "and  he 
novel-  thinks  of  chances." 

Next  day  Thor  bade  his  kind  brother  good-by.  and  drove 
out,  of  llimminhorg  into  the  cheerless  land  of  Niflheim. 
In  that  country  the  frost  giants  rule,  and  the  sun  shines 
but  half  the  year,  and  snow  and  ice  cover  the  land  and 
the  sea.  With  voice  and  whip  Thor  urged  his  team  along, 
and  he  travelled  hundreds  of  leagues  through  clashing 
dill's  of  ice  and  blinding  storms  of  snow  until  he  stood 
under  the  steadfast  northern  star,  and  at  the  farlhest 
bounds  of  NiHheim.  There  he  saw  the  giant  Hresvelger, 
the  keeper  of  the  north  winds,  standing  upon  the  very  ut- 
termost, edge  of  the  world.  The  grim  giant  was  clad  in 
eagles'  feathers,  and  when  his  huge  wings  Happed,  dire 
hurricanes  arose,  and  the  bitter  winter  blasts  rushed  forth 
to  chill  the  earth.  Of  him  Thor  asked  the  way  to  Jotun- 
liem. 

"Go  south,  then  east,"  answered  the  giant.  "  (TO  south, 
then  east  over  the  frozen  sea;  but  beware." 

Then  Thor  gave  the  reins  to  his  goats,  and  they  sped 
southward,  swiftly  driven  by  a  strong  blast  from  Hresvel- 
ger's  wings.  They  made  no  stop  until  they  had  passed 
the  bounds  of  NiHheim,  and  came  into  warmer  lands  and 
among  the  abodes  of  men. 

Late  in  the  evening  Thor  halted  at  a  peasant's  hut,  and 
asked  for  shelter  during  the  night.  Gladly  the  good  peo- 
ple welcomed  him,  and  gave  him  the  best  of  all  they  had; 
but  there  was  not  food  enough  for  all.  Then  Thor  killed 
his  two  goats,  and  when  he  had  stripped  off  their  skins, 
he  boiled  the  flesh  in  the  great  iron  kettle  which  hung 
over  the  fire.  And  then  all  sat  down  to  partake  of  a  meal 
the  like  of  which  the  good  peasant  and  his  family  had 
never  tasted  before.  With  great  care  Thor  spread  the 
skins  of  the  goats  upon  the  floor  before  the  fire-place,  say- 
ing to  his  hosts, 

"Be  very  careful,  when  you  have  eaten  all  the  flesh 
from  the  bones,  to  throw  them  softly  upon  these  skins." 

This  every  one  did ;  but  Thialfe,  the  peasant's  son, 
thoughtlessly  broke  one  of  the  shank-bones  in  order  to  get 
-at  the  marrow  within. 

Thor  rested  in  the  hut  all  night,  and  in  the  morning, 
when  the  first,  faint  streaks  of  light  appeared,  he  rose  and 
•dressed  himself,  and  made  ready  to  resume  his  journey. 
The  old  peasant,  who  had  also  arisen,  and  was  stirring  the 
fire,  wondered  how  his  guest  would  travel  that  day,  and 
what  lie  would  do  with  the  iron  car  that  stood  beside  the 
door.  But  his  mind  was  soon  set  at  rest,  so  far  as  that 
was  concerned;  for  Thor,  taking  his  hammer  in  his  hand, 
passed  it  three  times  over  the  bones  and  skins,  calling  his 
goats  by  name ;  and  the  creatures  took  their  wonted  forms. 


and  rose  upon  their  feet,  and  walked  to  their  places  in 
front  of  the  iron  car.  But  one  of  the  animals  limped 
painfully  on  one  of  its  hind-legs.  When  Thor  saw  this 
his  wrath  waxed  very  great,  and  he  grasped  the  handle  of 
his  hammer  with  such  force  that,  his  knuckles  grew  white 
and  his  hands  swelled  big  with  blue  blood:  and  he  knit 
his  dark  eyebrows,  and  stamped  furiously  upon  the 
ground. 

"  Who  has  broken  my  goat's  leg  T  he  cried. 

The  peasant  and  his  wife  fell  upon  their  knees  and 
screamed  with  fright,  and  earnestly  declared  that  none  of 
their  family  had  done  anything  of  the  kind;  and  the 
trembling  Thialfe  and  his  little  sister  Roska,  with  tears 
streaming  from  their  eyes,  besought  the  terrible  Thunder- 
er to  have  pity  upon  them  and  spare  their  lives,  for  they 
had  not  meant  to  do  any  harm  to  the  goat. 

When  Thor  saw  in  what  great  trouble  the  poor  people 
were,  his  anger  was  softened,  and  he  laid  his  hammer  qui- 
etly in  the  car.  Then  he  turned  to  the  peasant,  and  said : 

"On  one  condition  I  will  spare  your  lives.  Give  to  me 
as  servants  this  fleet-footed  boy.  Thialfe,  and  his  sister,  the 
golden-haired  Roska.  Then  I  will  go  on  my  way,  and 
leave  you  and  your  wife  in  peace.  And  every  year  the 
boy,  whom  men  shall  call  the  delver,  shall  make  the 
ground  ready  for  the  farmers'  seed,  and  his  sister  shall 
follow  him,  and  reap  the  golden  grain.  The  one  shall 
have  the  care  of  the  hopeful  seed-time  and  its  promises; 
the  other,  of  the  gladsome  harvest  and  its  rich  fullill- 

llienls." 

"  Take  them,"  answered  the  poor  man  and  his  weeping 
wife,  "for  you  offer  them  a  better  heritage  than  we  can 
ever  give  them." 

Then  Thor  took  Thialfe  and  Roska  with  him,  and  they 
travelled  eastward  until  they  came  to  the  great  sea. 
Here  they  left  the  goats  and  the  iron  car,  and  taking  a 
swift -sailing  vessel,  they  crossed  to  the  other  shore. 

No  sooner  had  they  stepped  upon  land  than  they  knew 
that  they  were  in  the  country  where  the  giants  dwell. 
The  trees,  most  of  them  oaks  and  ashes,  seemed  to  reach 
upward  to  the  sky;  the  coarse  grass  was  taller  than  their 
heads,  and  there  were  no  flowers,  neither  were  there  any 
singing-birds.  Everything  was  of  hugest  size,  and  seemed 
rough  and  harsh  and  altogether  forbidding. 
[TO  BE  CONTINCKD.] 


FOREST  PLANTING  IN  SPORT. 

BY  HUGH  CRAIG. 

YOU  may  think,  boys,  perhaps,  that  we  have  trees  and 
woods  enough.  But  men  who  have  studied  the  sub- 
ject will  tell  you  that  in  many  parts  of  our  land  we  have 
already  cut  down  too  many.  When  all  the  grand  old 
trees  have  been  removed  from  a  hill-side  the  rains  begin 
to  wash  away  the  soil,  and  the  mountain  slope  that  was 
once  so  green  and  shady  soon  becomes  a  barren  and  stony 
tract.  This  is  the  case  near  Boston,  at  a  place  called  Mid- 
dlesex Fells.  The  land  here  was  formerly  covered  with 
white  pine;  now  whole  tracts  are  bare  and  useless.  The 
people  are  therefore  trying  to  replant  trees  and  restore  the 
old  forest. 

I  lately  read  a  pretty  story  how  a  forest  was  replanted 
in  a  part  of  Switzerland.  The  people  in  an  old  town  there 
determined,  like  the  people  of  Middlesex  Fells,  to  trans 
form  a  piece  of  waste  land  into  a  forest.  They  thought  it 
would  be  a  good  plan  to  give  the  job  to  the  school  l»>\s 
and  school-girls  in  the  village.  So  they  gave  the  schools  a 
holiday  one  day,  and  then  arranged  all  the  bovs  and  girls 
in  ranks,  with  a  drummer  and  fifer  at  the  head,  and  away 
they  marched  merrily.  A  wagon  followed  with  some  liglit 
spades,  and  bags  of  acorns  and  nuts  and  other  seeds,  and 
a  good  many  baskets  of  things  good  to  eat.  The  planting, 
you  see,  was  to  be  a  kind  of  picnic. 


MAY  -j-j.  isss. 


HARPER'S  YOFXG  PEOPLE. 


459 


When  the  children — who  you  may  be  sure  were  pleased 
at  this  frolic  in  the  country,  but  were  wondering  what  they 

would  have  In  (li>  next  came  to  tin-  spot,  the  li'iys  were 
called  forward  ;ind  ]i\it  in  line.  Then  --pades  and  pick- 
axes were  given  them,  and  they  were  told  to  dig-  some 
holes  several  yards  apart.  While  the  boys  were  digging 

the  first    line  of  holes,  the  girls  were  placed  in   line.   • 

girl  hehind  each  hoy,  and  a  bag  of  acorns  given  to  each. 
When  the  rou-  of  holes  was  finished,  the  hoys  shouldered 
their  spades  and  inarched  a  few  yards  forward  to  make 
another  row.  The  girls  then  advanced  and  dropped  two 
or  three  acorns  in  each  hole. 

So  the  work  went  gayly  on  until  they  all  took  a  rcee-~. 
The  picnic  baskets  were  opened,  and.  a,  everybody  had  a 
good  appetite,  were  soon  emptied.  Then  alter  another 
hour's  work  the  drum  and  life  sounded,  spades  were 

thrown   into  the  cart,  and   all   inarched   1 -ward.      The 

children  were  all  in  good  spirits,  because  they  had  enjoyed 
their  holiday  and  were  proud  of  having  spent  it  usefully. 
There  \\ere  no  truants  for  the  next  few  weeks,  in  each  of 
which  a  holiday  for  planting  was  given,  and  the  work 
was  soon  finished.  "It  is  fifty  years  ago,"  said  the  old 
school  master  who  told  the  tale,  "and  a  very  line  wood  is 
the  one  my  school  made." 

A  week  from  tomorrow  will  be  Decoration  -  day.  I 
want  to  propose  to  you  that  each  hoy  and  girl  who  does 
not  live  in  the  midst  of  a  great  city  shall  on  that  day  plant, 
in  memory  of  the  heroes  n  hos"  deal  h  the  day  comn;'  mo 
rates,  one  tree,  where  in  time  to  come  it  will  be  an  oriia 
inent  and  its  shade  a  blessinir.  Not  that  this  idea  is  a 
n>  \\  one  \\ith  me;  1  only  want  to  call  \oiir  attention  to 
it.  It  was  first  proposed  by  ex  Governor  Seymour,  of 
New  York,  whose  mind,  in  spite  of  his  many  ycai-s.  is  al 
\va.\s  tilled  witli  some  plan  for  the  benefit  of  his  country 
and  the  people  he  ],,\  es 


TIIK  TWINS. 

l-.-i    I     i:   sT  \M  OKD 

T1IKY  were  a  couple  of  gray  parrots  that  belonged  to 
(iuy  and  Louis  Fenton.  and  the  bird  fancier  from 
whom  they  were  purchased  had  named  them  "The 
Tu  ins."  because,  as  lie  said,  "  they  were  as  much  alike  as 
two  peas  in  a  pod."  Individually  they  were  addressed  as 
I>ick  and  1'eler,  and  each  knew  his  name'. 

(invalid  Louis  had  obtained  them  especially  for  their 
"Museum  of  (ireat  and  Wonderful  (.'uriosilies."  which 
they  had  established  in  the  loft  over  their  father's  stable, 
and  it  was  not  long  before  all  the  hoys  of  the  neighbor- 
hood made  haste  to  see  them.  The  exhibition  fee  was 
three  cents,  and  a  large  poster  outside  the  stable  door. 
printed  by  Louis,  set  forth  in  glowing  words  what  the 
parrots  could  do.  Besides  being  able  to  chatter  a  good 
deal  of  parrot  talk,  they  could  march  on  a  tight  rope,  per- 
form gymnastics  on  two  small  swings,  and  shoot  each  oth- 
er with  toy  cannon. 

When  they  had  performed  the  last  trick  both  would  lie 
still  a  moment  or  two  as  though  dead.  Then  Dick  always 
jumped  up  suddenly,  fluttered  his  feathers,  and  called  out 
loudly.  "Where's  Peter  ;"  and  Peter  immediately  came  to 
life,  hopped  on  his  legs,  and  replied,  "  Here  I  am."  This 
part  of  the  performance  alone  was  declared  by  most  of  the 
boys  to  be  well  worth  double  the  price  of  admission. 

i  >ne.  fine  morning,  after  the  parrots  had  been  in  the 
mu>eum  a  month  or  more,  the  boys  hung  them  out-doors 
in  their  cage  to  enjoy  the  fresh  air,  and  then  went  to 
school.  When  they  returned  at  noon  both  birds  had 
escaped  and  disappeared.  Somehow  the  piece  of  wire 
which  fastened  the  cage  door  had  dropped  from  its  place, 
the  door  had  swung  open,  and  freedom  was  at  hand. 
The  Twins,  instead  of  remaining  concealed  wonders  any 
longer,  were  now  flying1  wherever  they  desired,  and  at  lib- 
erty to  display  themselves  free  of  charge-to  all  the  world. 


"  We  are  in  a  nice  liv.  aren'1  we  '"  said  (iuy  thrusting 
his  hands  into  hi,  podcets.  and  looking  at  the  empty  cage. 

"I  think  we  are,"  Louis  answered.     "Nobody  \\ill  care 

the  show  now.      We'll  have  to  shut  up  shop." 
After    some    deliberation,    however,    it    was    decided    to 

make  a  desperate  effort  at  least  to  find  the  birds,  and  to  of- 
fer a  tempting  reward  for  their  capture.  As  soon  as  din- 
ner was  over  the  brothers  took  their  dogs  and  began  the 
-cardi  hiirli  ;i,id  low  around  the  stable,  in  the  neighboring 
fields,  and  in  the  woods  that  were  not  far  off.  But  it  turn- 
ed out  that  they  might  as  well  have  searched  fora  needle 
in  a  hay-stack;  for  when  it  began  to  grow  dark,  and  night 
came,  they  had  not  found  even  the  slightest  trace  of  the 
fly  ar. 

"  Km-  all  we  can  tell,  they  may  be  twenty-five  miles  off 
by  this  time."  said  Louis. 

"I  would  rather  have  given  away  all  the  rest  of  the 
show  than  lose  them."  (iuy  declared. 

They  were  standing  now  in  the  midst  of  the  loft  and 
surveying,  under  the  dim  light  of  a  lantern  that  hung 
from  a  cross -beam,  their  collection  of  stnll'ed  beasts 
and  birds,  live  squirrels,  pet  rabbits,  guinea-pigs,  and 
doves.  Louis's  attention,  however,  was  soon  attracted  by 

another  noise  outside  one  of  the  dormer  u  indows.  They 
both  listened  a  moment,  and  heard  a  fluttering  of  wings 
against  the  glass.  In  an  inslant  they  pushed  up  the  win- 
dow, and  I>ick.  rather  the  worse  for  a  wetting,  flew  in  and 
perched  himself  on  tin-  cross  beam  near  the  lantern. 

"  So  you've  come  hack,  old  fellow  ;"  said  (iuy.  joyful- 
ly. "  1  Ionic's  the  best  place,  after  all,  hey 

I>ick   hopped  around  two  or  three   t  mies.  cocked  up  his 
]S  though  an  idea  had  just  occurred  to  him.  and  call 
ed  out.  "  Win  r     -    I'eler  .'" 

He  looked  so  funny,  and  the  question  was  so  appropri- 
ate just  then,  that  both  boys  burst  out  laughing. 

'  That's  uhat  11;  want  to  know,  old  fellow. "(iuy  re- 
plied. "Where's  I'cter.'  We've  been  hunting  all  over 
for  both  of  you." 

After  trying  a  moment  to  imitate  their  laughter,  as  if  he 
looked  upon  the  escape  OS  a  I'ood  joke.  Jlick  entered  his 
cage  al  one  end  of  the  loft,  and  settled  himself  for  quiet  and 
rest,  as  if  tired  out  by  the  day's  adventure.  His  ou  ners 
took  care  to  fasten  him  in  securely  this  time,  and  then  re- 
I  irned  to  the  open  v,  indow  to  wait  patiently  for  his  mate. 

But.  Peter  did  not  conn-  that  night,  nor  the  next  day. 
In  fact,  his  whereabouts  was  to  remain  a  mystery  some 
lime.  Neither  inquiry  nor  reward  brought  any  informa- 
tion about  him.  It  was  not  until  two  or  three  months 
had  passed  that  the  boys  found  him. 

Happening  one  day  to  be  in  a  small  city  ten  miles  a  way. 
(iuy  visited  a  store  where  birds  were  kept  for  sale.  Louis 
and  he  had  decided  to  buy  another  parrot  to  take  Peter's 
place,  and  he  was  in  search  of  one  like  him.  The  store- 
keeper .showed  him  several  in  cages,  and  at  last  led  him 
upstairs,  where  he  kept  a  "happy  family"  composed  of 
several  -penes  of  birds  all  together  in  one  large  room. 

Guy  had  scarcely  entered  this  place  before  he  saw,  with 
some  astonishment,  a  parrot  perched  on  a  rod  across  one 
corner  of  the  room  that  was  the  exact  image  of  Peter. 
Indeed,  he  was  almost  certain  that  the  bird  was  Peter. 
The  store-keeper,  however,  said  he  guessed  he  was  mis- 
taken; there  was  no  parrot  in  the  room  that  knew  I  hat 
name.  He  had  bought  this  one  lately  from  some  one  he 
did  not  remember,  and  he  had  not  had  a  chance  to  train 
him.  Guy  tried  to  make  the  parrot  recognize  his  name, 
and  repeat  the  parrot  talk  Peter  had  been  taught ;  but  the 
bird  seemed  to  be  dumb,  and  remained  quietly  indiffer- 
ent. The  store-keeper  then  said,  jestingly,  that  he  would 
sell  him  for  the  amount  he  cost  if  Guy  could  prove  that  lie 
had  been  his. 

This  suggested  a  new  idea  to  Guy.  He  drove  his 
father's  old  gray  horse  home  that  afternoon  as  fast  as  he 
could  go,  and  made  haste  to  talk  the  matter  over  with 


460 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"HERE    1ST   DE    BIGHT    PRISONER,  SHUDGE,'    HE    SAID." 


Louis.  The  next  morning  both  set  out  for  the  city  to- 
gether, taking  Dick  in  a  small  cage  with  them.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  store  they  asked  permission  to  carry 
him  up  to  the  room  where  the  happy  family  was,  and  as 
soon  as  they  were  inside  Louis  whispered  to  him. 

"Where's  Peter?"  he  cried  immediately  in  his  loudest 
manner. 

"Here  I  am, "briskly  replied  a  cracked  voice,  and  Pe- 
ter himself,  without  any  mistake  this  time,  flew  up  from 
behind  a  barrel,  and  lighted  on  the  top,  with  a  dignified 
air,  ready  to  receive  his  callers. 

The  store-keeper  laughed,  and  was  obliged  to  admit  that 
Guy  had  found  his  bird. 

' '  You  shall  have  him  for  three  dollars,  the  amount  I 
paid  for  him,"  he  said.  "I  bought  him  honestly,  and 
only  want  back  my  money." 

This  was  readily  agreed  to  by  both  boys,  and  when  Guy 
had  caught  Peter  they  all  went  down-stairs  to  the  store. 
Here  Guy  laid  on  the  counter  a  five-dollar  bill.  In  ail- 
other  moment  a  commotion  followed.  The  store-keeper 
had  scarcely  stepped  to  the  rear  of  the  store  to  get  money 
to  change  the  bill  when  Louis,  seeing  that  his  horse  just 
outside  was  frightened  by  a  passing  drum,  rushed  out  to 
him,  and  Guy,  dropping  Peter  on  the  counter,  ran  to  his 
aid.  The  observing  parrot  then  quickly  seized  the  five- 
dollar  bill  and  boldly  left  the  place. 

All  this  soon  brought  about,  as  will  be  seen,  a  dire  ca- 
tastrophe. The  store-keeper,  returning  with  his  change, 
found  that  the  boys,  the  money,  and  the  parrot  had  sud- 
denly departed,  and  being  a  hasty  man,  he  concluded  that 
Guy  and  Louis  meant  to  steal  the  bird.  As  soon  as  he 
n-:iched  the  door  he  saw  one  of  them  driving  down  the 
street  at  great  speed,  and  the  other  running  after  him. 
He  therefore  gave  chase  instantly,  and  cried  to  everybody 
to  stop  them. 

In  a  few  minutes  there  was  quite  a  hubbub  raised;  a 
policeman  captured  Guy,  and  a  small  mob  stopped  Louis 
and  the  runaway  Dobbin.  The  store-keeper,  quite  out  of 
breath,  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  policeman. 

"Take  him  to  the  station-house,  officer,"  Ijc  said.  "  He 
and  his  brother  have  stolen  a  parrot  from  me." 

In  vain  Guy  protested  that  the  man  was  mistaken,  and 
tried  to  explain  how  it  all  happened.  The  officer  hurried 
him  away  before  he  could  think  what  to  do,  and  in  three 


or  four  minutes  he  was  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  the  Police  Captain. 
Louis  was  brought  in  close  behind 
him,  and  a  gaping  crowd  gathered  at 
the  door. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  the  Captain 
asked  immediately,  looking  at  the  boys 
fiercely. 

"Been  stealing  something,"  the  offi- 
cer answered,  abruptly.  "Here's  the 
man  who  makes  the  charge." 

The  store-keeper  thereupon  began  to 
tell  excitedly  what  had  happened,  and 
to  accuse  the  boys  of  theft.  But  before 
he  had  quite  finished,  and  while  Guy 
and  Louis  were  wondering  how  they 
could  prove  their  innocence,  the  pro- 
ceedings were  disturbed  by  another 
prisoner  calling  out,  lustily,  "Here  I 
am !  here  I  am  !" 

The  next  moment  a  big  German, 
with  a  broad  grin  on  his  good-natured 
face,  brought  Peter  up  to  the  railing  in 
front  of  the  Captain's  desk. 

"Here  ist  de  right  prisoner,  shudge," 
he  said.      "I  seed  him  mit  mine  own 
eyes.     I  vas  stooiidin'  in  mine  shop 
across  de  street  veil  de  leetle  robber 
flies  in  mit  dis  moneys  in  his  bill." 
"Here  I  am!"  sang  out  Peter  again,  unabashed,  and 
struggling  to  get  away  from  his  captor. 

"  What  is  it  you  say  ?"  the  store-keeper  asked,  after  a 
pause,  looking  at  the  German,  rather  puzzled.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  the  parrot  flew  away  of  his  own  accord, 
and  took  the  boy's  money  with  him  ?" 

"  Yah,  dat  ist  it.  I  catched  him  mineself  mit  dis  mon- 
eys in  liis  bill." 

While  all  were  laughing,  and  the  parrot  continued  to 
declare  his  presence,  Guy  managed  to  tell  the  Captain  his 
side  of  the  story,  and  Louis  and  he  were  at  once  released. 
"You  are  welcome  to  the  bird,"  said  the  store-keeper, 
perceiving  the  mistake  he  had  made.  "I'll  give  him  to 
you,  boys,  and  I  beg  your  pardon  also  for  my  blunder." 

The  ci'owd  cheered,  and  pushed  one  another  right  and 
left  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Peter  as  Guy  and  Louis  hurried 
him  off  and  sprang  into  their  wagon  behind  old  Dobbin, 
where  Dick  in  his  cage  had  been  watching  passing  events. 
In  a  few  minutes  more  the  boys  were  011  their  way  home, 
and  breathing  more  freely. 

"  I  reckon  we  came  pretty  near  getting  into  a  scrape," 
said  Louis,  slackening  the  reins  over  Dobbin's  back. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  Guy  replied,  not  yet  quite  recovered. 
"But  Peter  won't  get  a  chance  to  go  off  and  learn  any 
more  new  tricks  right  away." 

As  soon  as  they  arrived  home  they  made  The  Twins  close 
prisoners  again  in  the  loft.  In  fact,  their  performances 
have  since  been  confined  to  its  limits,  and  they  have  been 
worth  a  mint  of  pennies  to  their  owners. 


BY  i 
TV 


THE  MICE  AT  TEA. 

BY   PALMER   COX. 

invitation  kind  and  free 
Two  mice  went  out  one  night  to  tea. 
The  hostess  met  them  with  a  smile, 
And  laid  their  things  away  in  style. 
And  soon  the  table-cloth  was  spread 
With  crackers,  toasted  cheese,  and  bread; 
And  when  they  gathered  round  the  board 
The  cups  of  tea  were  duly  poured. 
One  took  a  sip,  then  shook  her  head, 
And  setting  down  the  cup,  she  said, 
While  looking  round,  as  in  a  dream, 
To  find  the  pitcher  holding  cream, 


MAY  22,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•461 


"Without  a  drop  of  cream,  my  dear, 

I'll  rather  have  the  water  dear." 

"Too  bail."  the  hostess  made  reply; 

"But  yesterday  tin-  cow  went  dry; 

So  now  I  do  the  best  I  can, 

And  carry  out  another  plan; 

Until  the  milk  returns  once  more 

I  use  more  sui_rar  than   before." 

The  other  truest  then  laid  her  bread 

Upon  the  plate,  and   sadly   said, 

1   A  single  bite  I  can  not  eat 

When  drinking  tea  so  awful   sweet." 

••  Indeed!      I'm"  sorry   that's   Ihc  C8 

Replied  her  friend. "with   sober   lace. 

••That's  all  the  kind  of  tea   I'M' 

I  sweetened  all   within  the   pot." 

"Is  that  the  way  you  make  your  tea1.' 

Then  you  should  come  and   vi-it    me." 

The  oilier  cried.      "  II   seems  a  sin 

To  put   the  tea  and  suirar  in. 

Ard  stir  them  up  while  boiling  hot. 

\\  liv,  this  is  simply  soup  you've  got." 


AT  TEA. 

Hill    when   the  shadow   of  the  cat 
Stole  like  a   cloud   across  the   mat 
The  argument   <>n   lea   \\as  dropped. 
Their    little    eyes    I  rom    -oekels    popped, 

And  - there   was  a    lively  race 

TII   see   who  tirsl    could   leave'   the   place. 

( >ne  jumped  across  two  kitchen  chairs 

And  half  way  down  the  cellar  stairs; 

Another  skipped  about,  and   ran 

Behind  a  box  and  cupper  pan. 

And  squeezing  through   with  all  her  power, 

K-caped   Ihc  danger  of  the  hour. 

The  tliiril  one  every  etl'orl   strained 

Until  the  sink   was  safely  named, 

And  lacking  pluck  to  \enlure  out. 

I,a\    hid    for  days  within  Ihc  spout. 

And  this  all  came  aboul,  you  see, 

Through  finding  too  much  fault  at  tea. 


RECEIVING    THE    GUESTS. 


With  flushing  face  the  hostess  spoke; 

"Excuse  me;  I  don't  see  the  joke. 

You  can't  give  any  points  to  me. 

Because,  my  friend,  I've  crossed  the  sea. 

And  learned  the  custom,  if  you  please. 

From  them  that  know — the  Japanese." 

"The  nasty  Japs!"  the  other  cried; 

"I  thought  you  had  a  little  pride. 

What  brought  you  there,  I  want  to  know — 

The  most  outlandish  place  to  go 

In  all  the  world  to  seek  advice 

Or  learn  the  art  of  cooking  nice." 

ISut  while  they  sat  disputing  there 

The  cat  came  creeping  down  the  stair; 

She  listened  to  their  chat  awhile. 

And  hardly  could  suppress  a  smile. 

Said  she:  "I  haven't  ate  a  bite 

Since  two  o'clock  on  yester-night; 

In  fact,  I  scarcely  have  the  strength 

To  jump  a  lounge  or  table's  length. 

And  yet  I'd  almost  do  without 

To  hear  this  warm  discussion  out." 


THE    SUKPKISE. 


462 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OMEGA.  MADISON  PARISH,  LOUISIANA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  just  nine  years  old,  and  live, 
as  you  may  see  by  my  Post-office,  in  the  over- 
flowed part  of  the  State.  We  are  overflowed 
now,  but  tlie  water  has  not  been  so  deep  this 
year  as  it  was  last.  We  had  to  go  up  in  the  loft 
of  our  house  last  year ;  the  water  was  four  feet 
deep  in  our  rooms.  We  have  kept  our  cows  tins 
year  I  help  mamma  milk.  I  have  two  brothers, 
one  is  seven  years  old  ;  the  other,  a  baby,  is  just 
a*  sweet  and  cunning  as  he  can  be. 

Mamma  takes  HARPER'S  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE 
and  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  Brother  Will  and 
I  like  our  paper  very  much,  but  enjoy  Jimmy 
Brown's  nieces  most  of  all.  I  have  no  pets  ex- 
cept my  three  dolls  ;  their  names  are  Brenta,  Flc  >r- 
ence,  and  Lucy. 

I  must  tell  you  of  a  dear  little  wren  that  has 
built  her  nest  "behind  one  of  the  pictures  in  our 
sitting-room.  Mamma  keeps  grapes  over  the  pic- 
ture, and  she  fastened  her  nest  on  the  stems. 
She  has  little  ones  now,  but  I  don't  know  how 
many,  because  we  are  afraid  of  frightening  her 
away  by  touching  her  nest.  I  study  geography, 
history,' grammar,  arithmetic,  spelling  and  writ- 
ing.    M.  A.  G. 

PISE  RIDGE  AGKNL-V,  DAKOTA. 

I  am  a  boy  six  years  old.  I  have  a  little  baby 
sister  two  years  old.  I  live  among  the  Indians, 
and  often  see  the  little  Indian  boys  playing  with 
bows  and  arrows.  1  bought  a  bmv  with  four  ar- 
rows for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  I  went  with 
mamma  to  see  chief  Red  Cloud,  who  has  just  got 
back  from  Washington,  and  saw  some  squaws 
having  a  dog  feast.  One  of  the  chiefs  gave  me 
a  pony,  and  I  named  it  Lalee.  after  one  of  his 
girls.  In  taking  a  long  walk  to  the  top  of  a  hill 
where  the  Indians  have  some  coffins  left  on  the 
top  of  the  ground  I  found  some  wild  flowers  last 
Sunday. 

I  play  dominoes  and  word-game  evenings.  I 
get  ten  cents  a  week  for  bringing  wood  and  help- 
ing mamma,  and  am  saving  my  money  to  buy  a 
velocipede.  I  like  your  paper  very  much. 

EriiENE  A. 


NEW  YORK, Jfay  1. 

DEU-.  PosTMisTitKss,— We  grown-ups  ought  not 
to  take  the  space  set  apart  for  your  little  letter- 
writers,  but  I  must  tell  you  how  glad  and  thank- 
ful I  was  last  week,  when  visiting  .St.  Mary's  Hus- 
pital,  to  see  Young  People's  rot  occupied  by  a 
dear  little  invalid  girl.  I  know  all  the  dear  chil- 
dren would  have  rejoiced  with  me  to  see  the  act- 
ual good  that  their  money  is  doing. 

Ifany  little  boy  or  girl  would  like  to  know  how 
to  make  a  pretty  needle-book  for  a  charitable 
fair,  I  can  suggest  one.  Take  two  small  paper 
palettes  (you  may  buy  gilt-edged  ones,  or  make 
them  yourselves);  sketch  upon  them  any  pretty 
device— a  flower  or  Kate  Greeiiaway  figure  tiny 
littl<-  boy  drew  dogs'  heads!;  cut  flannel  slips  of 
the  same  shape',  and  either  button-hole  the  edges 
or  pink  them  "Ut  with  a  scissors  ;  tie  these  all  to- 
gether, the  flannel  leaves  inside  the  paper  ones, 
with  a  bright  ribbon  run  through  the  thumb-hole 
of  the  palette,  and  you  have  a  very  nice  and  taste- 
ful object  for  the  work-basket. 

Is  it  not  time  the  children  began  to  tell  how 
they  are  making  their  gardens? 

AN  OLD  FRIENU. 

Thanks  for  this  kind  letter,  and  for  the  writer's 
interest.  Will  our  little  gardeners  prove  that 
they  have  not  been  idle  by  sending  won!  about 
their  plants  and  vegetables,  and  how  they  care 
for  them? 

"  Little  Miss  Mary,  quite  contrary, 
How  does  your  garden  grow  ?" 


KALAMAZOO,  MICHIGAN. 

I'm  only  six  years  old,  but  I  want  to  write  to 
you  about  our  pets.  Our  cat  is  named  Colonel, 
and  we  had  a  dog  named  Fox,  and  the  two  used 
to  play  together  a  great  deal,  and  when  they  got 
tired  would  cuddle  up  on  the  mat  beside  each 
other  and  go  to  sleep.  One  time  mamma  and  I 
were  visit  ing  at  grandpa's  in  Detroit,  and  the  dog 
went  awa\  Something  must  have  happened  tu 
him,  for  lie  never  came  back,  our  horses  are 
Dolly  and  Billy.  We  have  a  cow  ealled  Jetty, 
after  one  in  Jean  Ingelow's  "High  Tide",  be- 
sides, she  has  a  black  face.  I  had  last  year  an  al 
ligator  which  we  brought  from  Florida,  but  he  is 
dead  now. 

This  winter  papa  and  mamma  took  me  with 
them  to  New  Orleans  to  see  the  Mardi  Gras  and 
i  In  eity,  and  afterward  to  Cuba,  where  we  saw 
bananas,  cocoa-nuts,  pea-nuts,  and  sugar-cane 
growing.  We  went  to  a  plantation  and  ^ngar- 
mill.  where  we  saw  the  almost -naked  slaves  stand- 
ing in  the  sugar  with  bare  feet  while  they  used  a 
pounder  to  press  it  in  the  hogsheads  for  ship- 


ment to  the  refinery,  where  these  yellow  crystals 
are  made  into  white  sugar. 

I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  while  our 
boaf  stopped  at  Key  West, colored  boyswithonly 
a  little  cloth  around  the  middle  of  the  body  were 
swimming  in  the  water,  while  people  on  the  boat 
dropped  quarters  and  dimes  into  the  waterto  see 
them  dive  for  them.  They  hardly  ever  missed 
bringing  np  the  pieces  of  money,  and  after  putting 
them  in  their  mouths,  would  call  out.  "Throw 
another  here,  boss."  It  was  fun  to  watch  them. 

I  have  the  bound  volumes  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG 
PEOPI.B.  I  think  I  like  "  Toby  Tyler,"  and  "  Talk- 
ing Leaves,"  and  the  story  in  which  the  orphan 
boy  thought  he  had  found  Santa  clans,  the  best, 
though  all  the  stories  are  good.  If  you  print  this, 
perhaps  I'll  write  again  some  day.  Of  course 
mamma  has  to  copy  it  for  me. 

WILLIE  B.  McC. 

Willie's  mother,  in  a  note  to  the  publishers  of 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  expresses  her  approbation  of  the 
paper  in  very  cordial  words : 

I  have  long  thought  of  writing  to  thank  you 
for  the  beautiful  wood-cuts  lalmost  like  fine  en- 
gravings some  of  them  are',  the  charming  stories, 
and  lessons  in  so  many  useful  things,  such  as  bot- 
any anil  astronomy  and  the  wonders  of  the  deep, 
so  interesting  and  instructive  to  the  impressible 
child-mind  that  will  be  learning  something  con- 
tinually. How  much  better  these  things  are  than 
some  of  the  trashy  publications  we  used  to  have 
for  children  ! 


GLENDALE,  KENTUCKY. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  go  to  school 
all  the  time.  Papa  has  a  friend  who  was  kind 
enough  to  send  me  YOTM;  PEOPLE.  I  like  it  very 
much  indeed.  Many  thanks  for  his  kindness  !  I 
have  no  little  sisters  or  brothers.  I  had  such  a 
nice  dog!  He  was  a  shepherd.  Some  one  poison- 
ed him.  We  felt  so  bad  about  it !  Ihaveamoek- 
ing-bird  ;  lie  .-ings  beautifully.  I  like  the  letters 
from  the  little  ones  so  much  : 

Your  little  friend,  WILLIE  H.  C. 


ROUSE'S  POINT,  NEW  YORK. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.- You  will  be  surprised  to 
hear  that  when  I  read  the  good  news  aloud  to 
mamma  that  Young  People's  Cot  was  endowed, 
and  we  need  send  no  more  money,  she  said, 
"  Oh,  how  sorry  I  am  ! — not  that  they  have  the  full 
sum.  but  that  we  are  too  late."  I  had  been  sav- 
ing my  pennies  until  I  should  have  a  dollar,  and 
miL'lil  have  sent  it  some  time  a-o,  hu!  there  was 
still  so  much  needed  we  thought  to  he  in  time. 
'  lis  a  lesson  not  to  defer  doing  a  good  deed. 
Would  it  be  accepted  now?  If  not.  we  will  send 
it  to  the  "  Tr/lini"  Fresh-air  Fund." 

We  think  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  just  per- 
fi'et.  so  interesting  and  instructive,  so  just  the 
thing  for  the  little  ones.  Mamma  says  I  will  nev- 
er outgrow  it.  for  she  and  papa  like  it  as  well  as 
I  do,  and  I  am  half  past  nine.  Mamma  teaches 
me  at  home,  and  I  can  repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer 
in  French,  and  recite  several  psalms  and  poems 
nicely.  I  can  not  begin  music  until  I  have  tin 
ished  my  multiplication  table  Mamma  reads  a 
chapter  in  the  rAJe/v  li>«>l:  i>f  \>it«n,  and  I  re- 
member and  recite  it  next  day.  Can  any  of  the 
little  girls  tell  why  we  have  two  eyes,  and  two 
ears,  and  only  one  tongue? 

I  would  like  to  join  your  cooking  club,  and 
will  send  yon  a  receipt  for  buns  that  I  make  all 
myself.  They  are  very  nice.  Will  someone  please 
tell  me  how  to  make  cocoa-nut  balls  or  biscuit? 

I  would  like  to  tell  you  all  about  my  dollies, 
lint  I  have  so  many,  and  love  them  so  dearly,  I 
should  never  stop  if  I  once  began.  I  am  sorry 
for  the  little  girls  who  do  not  love  to  play  with 
them.  Mamma  made  a  King's  Court  board  for 
me.  ami  -vye  think  it  a  very  nice  game,  and  have 
a  merry  time  over  it.  We  have  never  seen  a  let- 
ter from  this  way.  Ami  will  you  please  answer, 
and  tell  me  if  we  shall  send  the  money  to  Miss 
Faushawe  or  not?  NANCIE  D.  B.  (.per  Mamma  • 

Little  readers,  please  observe  Nancie's  ques- 
tions to  you,  and  answer  them  soon.  I  would 
give  her  the  receipt  she  asks  for,  but  prefer  to 
let  the  L\f tie  Housekeepers  tell  how  they  make 
cocoa-nut  balls.  Send  the  receipt  for  your  buns 
soon. 

As  the  Cot  has  been  paid  for.  Miss  Fanshawe 
can  receive  no  more  money  for  the  fund  of  which 
she  was  kind  enough  to  be  the  treasurer.  Sister 
Catherine  at  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital,  No.  407 
West  Thirty-fourth  Street,  will  receive  any  con- 
tributions which  children  may  desire  to  send  for 
the  Fresh-air  fund  of  the  hospital. 

We  are  pleased  to  hear  that  you  like  the  pretty 
game  of  King's  Court. 


\VIMIOM,  MINNESOTA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  who  lives  away  out  on  the 
wild  prairies  of  Minnesota,  where  you  seldom  see 
a  natural  grove,  except  around  water  of  some 
kind.  We  live  on  the  banks  of  Willow  Lake,  so 
named  tor  the  many  willows  on  its  shores.  We 
girls  my  sister  Edith  and  I.  together  with  our 
neighbors'  little  girls  about  our  own  ages— form- 
ed a  club  the  other  day,  ami  the  initials  are 
T.  T.  O.  W.  Our  governess,  when  trying  to  guess 
it,  said  she  thought  it  must  be  Tearing  Tomboys 


of  Windom.  But  that  is  not  it.  Our  badges  are 
going  to  be  steel-colored  silk  worked  with  blue 
silk,  and  I  think  they  will  be  quite  pretty.  Our 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  arrives  here  every  Friday  after- 
noon, but  we  do  not  get  it  until  Saturday,  for 
then  papa  comes  home,  and  he  brings  it  with 
him.  Papa  takes  HARPER'S  WEEKLY  and  HAR- 
PER'S BAZAR  also.  Our  baby  Rita  (named  for 
Kita  in  7'Ac  Talking  Lturt-^  was  just  a  year  old 
on  the  1st  of  this  month— April— and  is  just  as 
sweet  as  she  can  be.  She's  an  "April- Fool"  baby. 

If  I  wrote  all  that  I  wanted  to,  I'd  fill  the  Post- 
office  Box,  I  am  afraid,  so  I  will  say  good-by. 

MILLIE  K. 

What  can  those  letters  mean— T.  T.  O.  W. ''. 
Tell  Tales  of  Wisdom,  perhaps.  I  am  not  very 
clever  at  guessing,  so  unless  Millie  whispers  it  to 
me  I  shall  never  find  out.  Well,  the  secret  is  part 
of  the  pleasure,  isn't  it,  girls? 


Although  the  story  which  follows  is  rather 
longer  than  those  we  usually  publish  in  Our  Post- 
office  Box.  it  is  so  very  well  written  that  it  is  due 
to  its  author,  a  little  girl  only  twelve  years  old, 
to  give  it  a  place  here.  Valerie  may  hope,  if  she 
keeps  on  as  she  has  begun,  to  become  a  favorite 
writer  for  YOUNG  PEOPLE  at  some  future  day  : 
THE  STOKY  OF  THE  WIND. 

"Captain.  I  want  a  story." 

So  spoke  a  little  maiden,  throwing  her  arms 
around  her  uncle's  neck,  who  sat  <m  a  rustic 
bench.  She  was  little  Eva.  but  her  nnele  called 
her  Pussy,  and  Pussy  called  her  uncle  Captain, 
heeaiise  until  laiely  he  had  been  Captain  of  a 
tine  frigate. 

"What  shall  my  pay  lie  to-day  V"  he  asked. 

"Well,  Captain,"  she  said,  archly,  holding  her 
head  on  one  ,-ide  and  balancing  herself  on  one 
foot.  "  I'll  speak  my  new  piece." 

"You  must  pay  beforehand." 

"  (  >h.  no.  indeed  :" 

"Then  I  shall  keep  niy  story,"  Mr.  Haywood 
said,  feigning  anger. 

"Well,  sinee  you  arc'  such  a  baby,  I  suppo-e 


, 

you  must  have  your  own  way."  said  I'li^-v. 
frowning  visibly,  and  standing  before  her  uncle 
wilb  her  hands  elasped  behind  her  ba 


They  were  in  front  of  a  handsome  villa,  which, 
with  its  surrounding  grounds,  was  called  Oak- 
lands.  Scattered  over  the  eoiton  plantation  be- 
fore them  were  negi  .....  s  of  all  ages  and  all  sizes, 
and  when  they  saw  little  Pussy  with  her  hands 
clasped  behind  tier  they  knew  a  "piece"  was 
coming,  and  the  younger  portion  of  this  sable 
{  .....  imunity.  with  one  or  two  almost  in  their  sec- 
ond childhood,  crowded  eagerly  around  her 

Pussy  waited  until  all  were'  quiet,  and  then 
commenced,  in  a  sweet,  musical  tone  : 
"'  Come,  little   Leaves,'  said  the  Wind  one  day. 
'Come  o'er  the  meadows  with  me  and  play; 
Put  on  your  dresses  of  red  and  gold  — 
Summer  is  gone,  and  the  days  grow  cold.' 
>"on  as  the  Leaves  heard  the  Wind's  loud  call, 
Down  they  came  fluttering  one  and  all  : 
over  the  brown  fields  they  danced  and  flew, 
Singing  the  soft  little  songs  that  they  knew: 
Dancing  and  whirling  the  little  Leaves  went  ; 
Winter  had  called  them,  and  they  were  con- 

tent. 

Soon  fast  asleep  in  their  earthy  beds, 
The  Snow  laid  a  coverlet  over  "their  heads." 
When  she  had  finished,  her  old  mammy,  ad- 
dressing  herself    to    the    fat    little    youngsters 
around,  exclaimed.  "  Hi.  dar.  you  little  black  chil- 
luns,  w'at  you  doin'  here  ;  sho  !  sho  !  git  out 
dar!" 

At  this  they  started  on  a  run  for  the  planta- 
tion, followed  by  old  mammy  herself. 

As  soon  as  Pussy  had  ended,  she  ran  to  her 
uncle,  saying,  "Now.  Mr.  Captain,  where's  my 
story  '!"  climbed  on  his  knee,  and  settled  the  ruf- 
fles of  her  snowy  dress  around  her. 

"Pussy,  do  you  know  that  the  Wind  which 
called  the  Leaves  away,  and  bid  them  don  their 
red  and  gold  dresses,  was  the  same  Wind  which 
fanned  their  downy  bedclothes  from  them,  and 
warmed  them  ?" 

"  Who  told  you  so?"  questioned  Pussy. 
"  Now  comes  my  story,"  was  her  uncle's  reply, 
and  he  began  : 

"One  night,  while  I  was  yet  a  midshipman,  I 
was  sent  aloft  for  some  slight  offense.  I  took  a 
seat  on  a  spar,  and  leaned  against  the  mainmast. 
It  was  a  bitter  cold  night,  and  while  I  buttoned 
my  heavy  coat  close  to  my  neck  I  wished  that 
there  was  no  North  Wind. 

"  Oh,  what  a  wicked  thing  to  wish  !"  interrupt- 
ed Pussy. 

"  So  the  North  Wind  himself  seemed  to  think, 
for  he  blew  even  harder  and  stronger  than  be- 
fore. But  this  time  in  the  sharp,  whistling  sound 
I  recognized  words.  They  were  these  :  '  oh,  why 
do  people  think  so  hardly  of  me?' 

"Hearing  this,  I  exclaimed,  'And  why  should 
they  not  ?' 

"This  made  the  Wind  stop  blowing,  and  he 
whispered,  'I  will  tell  von.  I  was  born  al  tin- 
equator.  The  intense  heat  made  me  very  thin 
ami  light,  consequently  I  rose,  and  would  have 
fallen  from  the  earth,  but,  you  know,  it  is  like  a 
magnet,  and  attracts  e\  er\  t  Mug.  so  I  was  saved. 
Sweeping  northward  as  an  upper  current.  I  did 
no  good,  but  becoming  heavier,  I  sank  toward 


MAY   22,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


463 


the  earth,  and  was  welcomed  everywhere  as  the 

w-irm  South  Wind. 

•••When  I  reached  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar  I  saw 
n  sixteen  \cars  old.  the  rap tain's  ne- 
phew, on  the  deck  of  a  ship  in  harbor.    He  gazed 
ami  -tared  in  open  wonder,  until  one  oli 
with  inisi-liii-f  in  liis  eye,  walked  toward  liim.  and 
said.  a-  In-  touched  his  cap.  "If  you  would   hc- 
,,  sailor,  sir.  you  will  have  to  learn  to  climb 

Now  you  have  a  g 1  chance  "     Tin-  lioy.  ready 

enough,  start. -d  to  ,  liml,  til.-  rigtint  \\  h.-n  be 
n-a.-li.-d  tin-  topmast,  a  sailor  who  was  on  the 
l H,,ut  ti.-d  liim  t..  Hi"  mast,  and  demanded  a 

tin  i  n -a      This  the  astonished  b..y  had  to  five,  and 

in-  was  thru  i-el.-a-ed.    The  Captain,  coming  from 

tin-  i-al'in.  laughed  heartily,  for  it  was  a  cu-I,,m 
.in  l.oard  that  any  our  climbing  tin-  ringing  for 
tlii-  lir-t  tinii-  should  pay  a  golden  forfeit 

•••crossing  tin-  I'yn-iii-i-s.  I  -aw  tin-  blacK  eyed 
Masque  girls  waiting  for  customers,  and  then   ' 


the  biff  fire-place  (it  was  too  warm  that  day  to 
have  a  lin  i.  and  something  sprang  up  and  glided 
away  Mint:,-  -  n-alin-d.  and  111.1111111:1  rani.'  run 
ning  in  from  tlie  porch  and  asked  what  was  the 
matter,  and  aiinti.-  said.  "  'I'h.-n-  was  .1  snake  in 
tii.-  tin-  plan-,  and  it  is  in  this  room  now  "  •-" 
th.-y  looked,  and  then-  it  was  all  c-oih-d  up  under 
the  table;  so  th.-y  called  papa,  and  he  came  in. 
ami  took  a  big  stick  and  killed  it. 

l.,,|s  of  fiimiy  tilings  happen  to  us  here, and  if 
you  like  my  letter  I  will  w  rite  s<  ime  in.  ire  anoth- 
er time  Mamma  »ays  1  must  not  make  this  one 
too  lout.  JULIE  \.a. 


IKVIS..T  is  .,N  ML-I>-,,\.  NKW  YORK. 

lam  a  little  girl  nearly  live  years  old      M\  papa 
•nit  my  hand.      I  have  a  little  baby  brut  her, 

but  he  is  sick  most  of  the  time :  and  I  am  not  very 

well  cither      I  have  a  g 1  many  pets  :  bird-  call 

„„,„  , -  ed  Toby,  Honeysuckle,  Surprise,  Silver-and-Gold, 

saw  some  travellers  surrounded  by  children  eager     ami  iv'miy  ;  I  have  al-,,  a  very  handsome  pea 

to  sell   little   images  which    they   had   decora  1 1  d  ,    Adeline  b.  ,  -a  use  he  is  so  proud,  and 


With  ril.hous,  old  nieces  of  lae,  .  and  the  like. 
Ni-M  I  saw  some  idlers,  wrap]..  -1  in  ..Id  Hitter. -d 

brown  cloaks,  and  smoking  their  little  pa  pi  n  Ig 
ar.'i  i.-s  with  evident  enjoyment 

••  •  [  entered  Franc.-  ju-t  in  time  tO  See  tl 
nival  at  P.ordeaiix      'I'he  stre.  • 

ry  maskers,  and  at  e\er\  corner  Crowds  had  gath- 
eped  around  the  itinerant  ballad-singers  and 

IMle.-r- looking  figures  oil  still-,  -talk.  . I  every- 
where: open  eyed  ellildren  were  staring  with 

wonder  and  :ima/.>-ment  at  the  showman  9  l...\. 

Many  other  i  hints  .-onid  I  relate  ..f  this  beauti- 
ful  sunny  F  ranee  ;  there,  where  the  grape  vine 
grows,  and  the-  silk  worm  feeds  on  the  mulberry 
leaves.  I  lingered  as  long  aa  possible. 

••  •  Then  1  crossed  to  England,  and  there  saw  a 
fox-hunt  amont  the  gentry, and  the  Than 
eil  with  foreitn  -' 

•" In  old  Scotland  I  saw  the  l.onnv  lassies  and 
the  llithlandei-s  in  tlieir  plaid  kilts  dance  the 
IIMiland  Hint  and  tin-  hornpipe  :  l.ut  I  could  not 
linter.  Onward,  onward  did  1 1  ravel  uniil  I  n-aeh- 
ed  the  north  pole:  then  1  tinned  toward  the 
south  again,  but  this  time  1  crossed  the  \\.  8ti  rn 
oontinenl  There,  while  yetin  the  arctic  regions, 

I       ,   >.    i  he  seal  and    the  polar  bear,  and  I  he  little 
L-,|iiiinan\  Children  w  rapp.'d  in  furs. 
"•Crossing  the  I  n il.-d  states.  I  saw  a   hi  r. I  ..I 

hiin'aloe-  being  chased  by  a  hunting  part;  ..fin 

dians      The   Indians  wore  hith  feathers    LI 
then    heads     m  1    around   their   neeks   -Hints  of 


pl.-nt>  ol  ehi.  U.  n-  and  .  at-.      1  have  a  pl:r. 

and  lot-  of  toys  of  all  kinds  in  it.  and  ever]   time 

ud  mamma  t"  to  the  .-itv  I  always  expect 

them  to  bring  me  - -thint.  and  [hej   p  Derail; 

do      I  IOM-  the  conn  try,  and  wish  that  nice  warm 
,  r  would  come,  BO  thai  babj  brother  and  I 

could    play  out  doors      1   hope  this  letter  is  not 
.  \"ii  to  publish.  M  MI  EL  D. 

Hid  you  ever  know  a  v.  ry  proud  Adeline  that 

,.-  Liven  that  pretty  name  t..th.-  p.  , 
\l>    VI.  l:n.  -  have  always  been  lovely. 

N«w  Y-.r.K  CITY. 

little  folks  that  read  y.uir  pa- 
ry  week. and  1  have  noticed  so  many  lit- 
tle bo.  -.-ml  yon  letter-  that,  althouth 
1  am  only  ti\e  years  old,  1  would  like  to  write 

also      Not  lout  ato  there  wa-  -ueh  a  nice  r -ipt 

ill  lie-      [gave  it  to  our  cook,  and  she  made 

tin-in  I  or  our  t.-a,  and.  as  my  little  sister  sa\s.  they 

p.-i  teetly  lovely."    We  have  them  made  in 

-.  liirds.  rabbits,  and  such  fun 

as  we  have  eating  them  !  tir-t  we  bite  off  a  head, 

Ilii-n  a  foot,  and  \erv  so,  .n  it  i-  all  gone. 

1    Would   like  In  know    the   little  till  who  -i  lit 
y,,u  Hi  is  receipt,  s..  I  coiilil  thank  her       \ 

lie  would  have  some  nice  receipt  for  D  pud- 
ding which  1  could  try.  And  if  another  little 
ti-iend  could  five  me  a  pretty  pattern  for  a  silk 


warmer  but  I  -till  Kept  enouth  of  my  cold  air  to 
cool  the  brow  of  the  fevi  red  and  moderate  the 
intense  heat  of  the  -mi 


•  Hut  i 


I  am  c,  ,1,1     - .Id  that  all  ! 


I  am  a  little  Canadian  boy       I  live  in  a  \  illate 


dren  please  notice  that  their  letters  can  never 
appear  in  the  next  number  which  they  receive 
alter  writint  to  the  Post-office  Box?  They  must 
always  wait  several  weeks  for  their  turn.  — Fan- 
nie J.  M. :  The  initials  N.  A.  after  the  name  of  an 
artist  mean  National  Academician.— D.  K.  W.  : 
Follow  your  own  fancy  in  conducting  your  par- 
ty. Head  "The  May-day  Fete  at  Beverly  Hill" 
in  No.  1S3.  It  may  give  yon  some  ideas. — Con- 
tratulatioiis  to  all  the  dear  ellildren  who  are  go- 
mt  after  wild  flowers.  I  wish  they  would  show 
me  where  i  lie  hepatic. is,  anemones,  and  violets 
grow.-Sunie  M.  :  We  are  sorry  not  to  publish 
your  letter  of  April  v.".i,  but  if  you  knew  how 
many  similar  reqiic-ts  we  receive,  you  would  un- 

,1,-r-I  a  n,l    \\  h  V  w  c  teel  obliged  to  say  Ilo  to  yours. 

Your  letter  is  very  interesting,  and  the  postmis- 

t  re--  hop,  -  \  ou  w  ill  not  tail  to  send  allot  her  soon. 

Next  week   the  Little  Housekeepers  will  find 

in  the  1'ost  office  Box  some  hints  as  to  the  way 

,.  lor  the  sick,  a nd  also  several  receipts  for 

dainty  dishes  t..  tempt  the  appetite  of  an  invalid. 


Pl'/./.I.ES   ntoM   Y.iFNi;   '  ONTKIP.t  TilKS 
No.  1. 

TWO    K  Ks\     III  \  MoNDS. 

I  — 1.  A  letter.     •-'     \    metal.     :5.  A  liquid.     4.  A 

-  Utensil.       .',.    A    letter 

1     \  letter.     •-'.  A  tirl's  name.    3.  A  kind  of 
I     \n  adverb.     5    A  letter.  D.  H.  W. 


No.  i. 

-\  \,   o|-  \TIOSS 

1  Syncopate  an  adjective  relating  to  a  metal, 
and  get  an  adjective  meaning  minute. 

•„.  s\  I,,  opat<  .1  number, and  get  a  plant. 

acopate  a   mam   -itniuint  a   free  course. 

and  t'et  a  verb  signifying  to  recite  in  verse 

i  Mn.-iipaic  a  verb  sitnif>ing  to  contradict, 
111,1  |fi  t  a  noun,  formerly  a  title  of  the  Coxenmr 
of  Algiers. 

:,.  syncopate  a  noun  signifying  a  resting-place, 
and  gel  a  verb  situ  i  I  >  int  to  reduce  to  coal. 

,,  Syncopate  a  noun  signifying  a  contusion,  a  mi 

ibbre\  iat  i,  >n  ,  -I  a  hoy's  name. 

<  n.un.Es  E.  aud  AUTIIUK  II.  T. 


No  :i. 

ILK    Ai  ItOSTIC. 

1  To  hit.  -'  A  dwelling  '•',.  A  stranger.  4.  To 
be  able  :.  A  seoltjsl,  tame.  tl.  A  girl's  name 
V  T..  have  supreme  authority,  s.  A  Latin  word 
meaning  friends.  '.I.  A  kind  of  Russia  leather. 


but  you  w  ill  not,  will  yon  . 

••thus  the  North  Wind  ended.  Hut  before  I 
could  answer.  1  was  called  below.  I  descended 
to  the  deck,  and  heard  the  cold  wind  blowing 
onward." 

\\hi-n  Mr.  llaywood  finished,  Pussy  thanked 
him,  and  he,  lifting  her  on  his  -.boulder,  man  -bed 

illl  o   the   h,  >ll-e 

U  bile  Kia  was  -leepillt  that  night  she  dreamed 
that  she  saw  alligators  chasint  Indian-.  l'.a-,|iie 
til  I-  and  bears  dalieint  together.  and  that  a  real 
live  Ksiininiau  was  tcllint  her  a  story. 

VALERIE  V.  I).  FICANKKI.. 


RKI.HRI  l,.  I,,WA. 

I  thought  I  would  send  you  a  letter.  I  can  not 
wrile.  -o  I  tot  mamma  to  write  this  for  me. 
tell  mamma  what  to  say.  I  am  six  years  old.  I 
have  a  cat  ;  his  name  is  Tommy.  I  had  a  dog 
on,-,-,  but  he  got  so  old  and  lame  and  crippled. 
and  followed  trandpa  so  much,  we  sent  him  out 
in  tlie  woods  and  poisoned  him. 

1  take  lI.«.ni'Ki:'s  Yiirxn  PEOPLE.     I  like  to  have 
mamma  read  the  letters  to  me.     Mamma   read 
about  the  little  tirl  down  in  Mississippi,  and  how- 
sin-  wanted  the  pieces  of  silk,  and  so  I  sent  her 
some.     I  wonder  it  she  tot  th 
write  the  Postmistress  a  lette 
Uood-by.  EUGENE  D.  I'. 

I'n.bably  Lillian  W.  will  write  and  tell  us 
whether  she  received  the  pieces  this  little  cor 
respondent  and  others  have  sent  her. 

r,,or  old  dottie:  How  sorry  you  must  have 
been  when  In-  had  tu  be  killed,  yet  it  was  the 
truest  kindness. 


near  the  foot  of  Lak.-  Ontario      In  the  summer      Prlmals  give  the  name  of  a  celebrated  author; 


we  go  .|,,w  n  n  >   vi    i  awrence  i.1^.  r  ' in  ml 

SI    Lawrence  rump  ground,  n.  ar  BrOCkvllle.      It 

,    i   i,,   lutlful  trip,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 

\\ ,  _.,  n,  rallj  staj  trom  one  totwoweeks. 

-s   what    is   called  the  Thousand   I-land- 

My  favorite  stories  in  Y.H  s..  I'K r.  are  "  Lais 

iie-  the  '  1'carl,'  "  •limiiiy  Hrown's.  and  "  Nan  "     I 

-,  ,  pets,  excepl  nine  little  chickens  and  two 

birds  The  birds'  names  an-  Dick  and  Polly.  Pol- 
ly bad  a  family  of  >oung  birds  last  summer,  and 
again  this  spring,  l.a-t  summer  they  drowned 
the  dear  little  things  in  their  dish  of  water,  and 

this   sprjut   pecked    tllelll   to   death. 

If  Nannie  D.,OfGp  -oU|h  CaroMim.  will 

send  a  -ample  of  the  blooms  and  bolls  .,1  cotton 

, I  will  be  M-ry.vcry  glad,  as  I  ba\e  never 

seen  cotton  except  when  in  cloth. 

FRED  MARSU. 


GERMANIA,  ALABAMA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  and  r  have 
taken  llMici.n's  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  a  long  time, 
and  love  it  very  much.  I  think  "Nan"  was  tin1 
best  story  that  ever  was.  and  Jimmy  Hrown's 
to,,.  I  ha\.-  always  lived  in  Cleveland.  Ohio,  un- 
til a  year  ago.  when  papa  brought  us  here,  and  it 
is  all  SO  different.  We  live  in  the  country,  and  it 
is  warm,  and  tlie  trees  are  green,  and  we  have 
had  flowers  fora  longtime. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  something  that  happen- 
ed last  week.  Mamma  and  I  were  sitting  in  the 
parlor,  and  pretty  soon  my  baby  sister,  who  was 
on  tin-  porch,  began  to  scream,  and  we  ran  out, 
and  there  ,.n  the  ground  was  a  big  black  snake. 
I  screamed,  and  it  ran  under  the  steps.  The  next 
day  auntie  threw  some  paper  behind  the  logs  in 


W.  W.  C. :  The  Postmistress  is  inclined  t,.  think 

your  proposal  a  g 1  one.  but  would  like  to  wait 

a  little  before  saying  anything  about  it  to  the 
yonng  gentlemen  Your  letter  is  placed  on  file 
for  reference  llalli*  V.  K. :  Your  home  niu-t  be 

k,  ....„  ., lov.h.  and  I  have  a  picture  of  you  in  my  mind 

.I'm  I    1  am  going  t"     feedint  your  pit is  and  guinea-hens.— Kurlc  J. 

•rwheii  [cjunwrite.     .,,-_.  y/ou  have  selected  a  good  motto.— Fred  S.L.: 
It  is  against  our  rules  to  publish  the  full  names 

of  our  littli respondents,  but  a  message  may 

be  sent  throutb  the  Post-office  llox  to  anyone 
whose  letter  ini.Te-i-  you.  — Walter  II.  I..:  Do 
you  mean  to  be  ail  editor  when  you  grow  up?— 
Fliii-i'tiro  M.  0. :  Do  he  careful  how  you  ride  that 
wild  Texas  horse  K.  B.  H.  wants  somebody  to 
tell  him  a  short  and  quick  way  of  multiplying 
five  figures  by  five  figures,  and  six  figures  by  six 
figures.  Arithmetic  Class,  you  may  speak,  only 
not  all  at  on.-,-,  please. -Lillie  D. :  Your  dog  was 
wonderfully  kind  to  the  poor  hurt  pussy;  far 
above  those  cruel  boys,  in  my  opinion,  is  so  wise 
a  dog. —  Hurry  W.  U. :  Your  little  poem  ha-  a 

pleasant   thought,  but  is  not  quite  g 1  eiiough 

for  publication.  Try  again.— Sarah  F.  II.:  I  am 
s, ,  glad  you  bad  so  good  a  time  ou  your  birthday. 
—The  following  correspondents  will  please  ac- 
cept thanks  for  bright  little  letters:  Kate  I... 
Louie  Adams  IV..  Mnroirrt  1!..  Elsie  K.  (i.  II..  Vic- 
tor J.,  A.  I,.  It.,  K.  II.  Vi.,  llattie  K.,Mauil  ('..Ju- 
lius O.  (i.,  Helm  (i.  H.,  and  Alice  S.— Will  the  chil- 


!,,   nam,   ,,l  one  of  his  works. 

/I   Ml'IN    J  ACK. 

No.  4. 
t    -.  I  .;  M  A. 

M  i   lii -si  is  in  pig.  but  not  in  hog. 
My  second  is  in  mist,  but  not  in  fog. 
Mv  third  is  in  tree,  but  not  in  log. 
M  .  loiirth  is  in  throw,  lint  not  in  hurl. 
My  whole  is  the  name  of  an  English  earl. 

STUDIO. 


ANSWKHS  TO  IT2ZLKS  IN  No.  183. 

No.  1.  T  o    C  MAN 

(iNE  A   K  E 

!•  E  T  NET 


T  i)  Y 
ti  H  <> 
Y  O  U 


P  I  N 
ICE 
NED 


T  i-:  \ 

K   K    E 
NEW 


No.  2. 

Answer. 

No.  3. 


No.  4. 


•  A  new  broom  sweeps  clean." 

Arm.    Snow.    Plane.    Bee.    Coal. 

si£E 

S    HALL 

('  II   A   K  L    I    E 

E    L   L   I    E 

LIE 

E 

t  hristopher  Columbus, 
i  adiz     Hartford.   Rome.   Iceland.    Spam. 
Texas.     Ohio.     Paris.     Hudson.     Erie. 
Khoiie.  Cuba.  obi.  London.  Ural.  Maine. 
Lei-nc.     I'ruguay.    Sahara. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Cummings,  Samuel  II.  Manning,  Fred  Hat- 
tell  G  Hardin.  Emily  See.  Ella  McDermott.IIel- 

,  ,,  s    W Iworth.  lieli-n  M..  No  Name,  Samuel 

Bronson, Chauncey  Harris  Hand.  Elsie  o..  Ernest 
Wolkwitz.  Maude  and  Clara  Kempton,  Floy  Ben- 
sou  .1  F  Ritchie,  Caroline  Jane  Lyman,  Charles 
He  Gangue,  Peacock,  Harry  s.  Ayer.  Charles  E. 
and  \rtlmr  II.  Timnn  rman.  J.  Harry  Mowbray, 
Matilda  Fletcher,  Charles  F.  Trumpler.  Carl  I), 
Herbert  p.  Bagley,  Clara  Robitcher.  Fred  Moll- 
man  Harry  Ileach.  Kuivka,  Alice  M.W  ade.  Eglan- 
tine  Dora  Raymond,  Princess  Daisy.  Louise  and 
John  Bicard,  Ettienne  D.,  Maggie  Cocks,  Tailor- 
bird.  

[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  M  pages  of  cover.] 


464 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


gp  A^P* 

^»«c  %  Wi'/'  ""  '"'•"     "'•- 

.u.i-q.iKM.in        'vr  ., '/w"^*3 


SOME   ANSWERS    TO    WIGGLES   Nos.  31    AND   32,  AND    NEW   WIGGLE,  No.  33. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


~ 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  1ST. 


IYi!i.isim>  i;v   IIAUI'KU  \-    i'.K<  »TII  KliS.  Xi:w  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  M:iy  •-".!,  1883. 


C»pyriKht,  liWi,  by  MAKI-KK  dt  BKOTHKM. 


$1.60  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


DECORATION-DAY— WATCHING    THE    PROCESSION.— DRAWN  BY  H.  P.  WOLCOTT. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"IN    FATHER'S   PLACE." 

(DECORATION-DAY. ) 
BY   MARY   D.   BRINE. 

ONLY  a  Hnlc  raided  boy, 
Barefooted,  it  is  true. 
But  heaven's  golden  sunshine  lay 

Within  his  eyes  so  blue. 
Without  the  florist's  door  he  stn.nl 

With  earnest,  wistful  face. 
"Got  any  work,  please,  sir.  that  I 
Can  do  about  the  place? 

"It  isn't  money  that  I  want, 

But  I'll  work  good,  you'll  see, 
If  when  I've  done,  a  little  bunch 

Of  vi'lets  you'll  give  me." 
The  florist  laughed.     "That's  cheap  enough. 

Here,  try  your  hand  at  this; 
Sinee  all  you  want  are  violets,  boy, 

One  bunch  I  shall  not  miss." 

A  little  later,  and  the  streets 

With  uniforms  are  gay, 
And  martial  music  tills  the  air 

For  Decoration-day. 
Tin1  "silent  city"  reached  at  last. 

Begins  the  task  of  love, 
As  soldiers  gently  scatter  flowers. 

Their  comrades'  graves  above. 

Then  stepped  our  little  laddie. 

To  the  humblest  grave  of  all. 
And  on  it  laid  a  portion  of 

His  offering  so  small. 
A  soldier  asked,  "Tell  me.  my  child. 

\Vliy  are  you  here  to-day'.'" 
"I  came  in  father's  place,  sir,  please — 

I  could  not  stay  away. 

"He  was  a  soldier  long  ago, 

And  he  remembered  well 
The  dark  and  cruel  battle-field 

Where  many  comrades  fell; 
And  every  Decoration-day. 

Till  he  got  sick  an'  died, 
In  helping'  deck  the  soldiers'  graves 

He  always  had  a  pride. 

"An'  so,  'cause  he  is  lyin'  there. 

An'  couldn't  come" — the  lad 
Here  wiped  his  eyes — "7  came  to  bring 

The  only  flowers  I  bad. 
I  took  his  place  the  best  I  could; 

I   hadn't  much  to  give; 
But  father  would  have  given  more 

If  God  had  let  him  live." 

Oh,  tenderly  the  moon  looked  down 

That  night  where  slept  the  dead, 
And  lovingly  her  mantle  bright 

Above  the  graves  was  spread. 
But  long  its  radiance  lingered,  o'er 

The  humblest  grave  of  all. 
Where  some  kind  hand  rare  flowers  had  laid 

By  Johnny's  offering  small. 


BAEBARA'S  PINK  HAT. 

BY  JULIA  K.  HILDHETII. 

rpHE  children  of  Brooklyn  look  forward  to  the  day  of 
_L  the  irrand  annual  Sunday-school  parade  with  delight 
and  excitement.  It  is  a  sight  well  worth  seeing:  bright- 
faced  boys  and  girls  in  their  prettiest  clothes  marching 
merrily  along  to  the  music  of  the  bands,  gorgeous  silken 
flags  and  banners  flying,  ribbons  fluttering,  and  wafted 
over  all  the  perfume  of  thousands  of  flowers. 

Ethel  Green  and  her  friend  Barbara  North  belonged  to 
the  same  Sunday-school,  and  had  been  selected  to  carry 
the  cords  of  their  class  banner  as  a  reward  for  their  punc- 
tual attendance  and  good  behavior  during  the  year.  It 
was  considered  a  post  of  honor,  and  naturally  the  children 
were  delighted.  But  it  was  customary  for  the  cord-bear- 
ers to  dress  alike,  and  Barbara  was  very  doubtful  whether 
she  could  match  Ethel  in  any  one  garment,  for  her  grand- 
mother, with  whom  she  lived,  had  but  a  small  income. 


and,  besides,  held  what  are  called  old-fashioned  ideas  about 
little  girls'  dress. 

Ethel  had  never  thought  of  this.  So  when  Barbara 
had  answered  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  join 
the  procession,  she  was  both  astonished  and  dismayed. 
When  they  were  alone  Ethel  asked  so  many  questions, 
and  seemed  so  hurt  and  disappointed  at  her  friend's  re- 
fusal, that  at  last  Barbara  said: 

"Well.  Ethel,  if  you  must  know,  I  can  not  dress  as 
your  mother  will  dress  you.  so  there's  no  use  thinking  any 
more  about  it." 

"Is  that  all?''  cried  Ethel,  very  much  relieved.  "I 
thought  it  was  something  a  great  deal  worse.  Just  tell 
me  \\  hat  you  can  wear,  and  I  will  ask  mamma  to  dress  me 
the  same." 

"I  can  have  a  white  dress,"  answered  Barbara,  ''for 
grandmamma  said  that  she  would  make  over  for  me  this 
summer  an  embroidered  India  muslin  skirt  that  she  used 
to  wear  when  she  was  a  girl.  But  the  worst  of  all  is  this 
brown  hat.  It  is  new,  and  quite  good  enough  for  me,  I 
suppose;  but  it  certainly  will  not  look  well  among  all  the 
pretty  light  hats  of  the  other  girls.  And  grandmamma 
said,  when  she  bought  it,  'Take  good  care  of  this  hat, 
Barbara;  it  is  flue  straw,  and  must  last  all  summer.'" 

"Oh,  well!"  cried  Ethel,  "then  that's  all  right.  I  have 
a  white  dress,  I  know,  and  1  think  I  have  a  brown  hat." 

"That  will  never  do,"  said  Barbara,  decidedly.  "Let  it- 
stand  this  way— if  grandmamma  can  give  me  a  light  hat,  I 
will  go.  If  not,  you  must  find  another  companion." 

"No,"  answered  Ethel,  decidedly;  "I  have  made  up 
my  mind  to  stay  at  home  if  you  do.  But  when  will  you 
know  ?  Remember,  this  is  Monday,  and  the  parade  is  011 
Wednesday." 

"  I  shall  know  to-morrow  morning,"  answered  Barbara, 
as  she  turned  away. 

On  the  following  afternoon  the  girls  met  in  the  street 
near  Barbara's  house. 

"  Can  you  go  ?"  asked  Ethel,  anxiously. 
"Yes."  cried  Barbara,  with  sparkling  eyes.  "Last 
night  I  told  grandmamma  about  the  hat,  and.  do  you 
know,  she  said  you  were  a  good  self-sacrificing  little  girl 
to  be  willing  to  give  up  wearing  your  handsome  clothes 
for  me,  and  that  she  would  not  try  your  friendship  too 
far.  Then  she  gave  me  this,"  and  Barbara  drew  from 
her  pocket  a  crisp  new  live-dollar  bill.  "I  am  to  buy  a 
hat  with  it — choose  it  myself,  for  grandmamma  is  busy 
finishing  my  white  dress.  Will  you  come  with  me  to  the 
milliner's  :" 

"Yes,"  cried  Ethel,  eagerly.  "I  can  go  if  I  can  take 
Ida  along.  Mother  and  Aunt  Nelly  have  gone  out,  and 
Ida  would  cry  dreadfully  if  I  should  leave  her." 

"Let  her  come,  of  course,"  answered  Barbara.  "Now 
here's  the  milliner's  card.  This  is  where  grandmamma 
always  buys  her  bonnets — Madame  Fanehon.  It's  in  Ful- 
ton Street,  near  the  ferry." 

A  short  walk  brought  them  to  Fulton  Street,  where 
they  saw  Madame  Fanchon's  great  gold-lettered  sign  di- 
rectly before  them. 

Barbara  and  Ethel  were  soon  busy  examining  the  won- 
derful array  of  beautiful  goods.  After  peeping  into  near- 
ly every  box  and  drawer  in  the  store,  madame  brought  out 
a  hat  which  Ethel  declared  was  exactly  similar  to  hers. 
Cream-white  straw,  lined  with  pale  pink  silk,  and  trimmed 
with  apple  blossoms. 

"Oh!"  said  Barbara,  in  a  subdued  tone  of  delight  and 
admiration,  "  I  never  saw  anything  quite  so  beautiful." 

The  hat  was  soon  deposited  in  a  bandbox  and  delivered 
to  Barbara.  Then  they  turned  to  look  for  Ida,  whom 
they  had  left  to  amuse  herself  at  the  window.  To  their 
dismay  she  was  gone. 

The  two  girls  hastened  into  the  street  and  looked  about 
them.  Presently  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  Ida  trotting 
briskly  along  toward  the  ferry. 


MAY    -'.'.  1883. 


PEOPLE. 


167 


"Then-  -In-  is!"  cried  Ethel.  "  I  <li>  hope  she  will  not 
try  to  cross  I!H.  street." 

There  is  always  :i  great  crowd  in  Fulton  Sti t  about 

six  o'clock  :  MI  tin-  girls  had  a  dillicult  linn-  of  it.  dodging 
between  the  people,  to  keep  tin-  little  ligure  Hitting  before 
them  in  siirht.  Suddenly  Barbara.  \vlio  was  a  little  the 
taller,  gave  a  sharp  cry.  and  darted  forwanl.  Then  Kthel 
knew  at  once  that  some  accident  must  have  happened  to 
her  little  sister,  and  grew  di/./.y  and  faint.  Hut  recover- 
ing herself  almost  immediately,  she  ran  on  in  the  direction 

which  HarhaiM  had  taken,  and  soon  found  herself  near  a 
group  of  people  collected  on  the  curh  -toni1. 

"Is  she  hurt.'"  cried  Kthel.  trying  frantically  to  force 
her  uay  through  the  croud. 

I  lilt  all   were  too  htisy  talkini;'  to  not  ice  lier. 

"  I  lid   \  mi  ever  see  sucl  i  presence  of  nil  nil  ."  said  one. 

"  Wonderful  !    wonderful  I"  answered  his  comiianion. 

"A  hrave,  bright  girl!"  said  another 

"  I'lease.  /ilriisf.  iiiove  and  let  me  i;'o  to  her.  pleaded 
Klhel.  tuuLMiiir  at  the  speaker's  coat. 

"Well,  lit  tic'  girl."  said  the  •gentleman,  "what  do  you 
want 

"1  want  to  see  her."  aiisuered  Kthel.  liftinir  a  ]>aii-  of 
wet  eyes  and  a  very  frie.-ht.-ned  face  up  to  hi-.  "She  is 
my  sister." 

"  Your  sister'"  exclaimed  he.  "  llei-e.  take  my  hand, 
and  we  will  find  her  in  a  jiffy." 

The  man  forced  his  way  through  the  crowd,  and  Klhel 
found  herself  face  to  face  with  Harhara.  \\lio  looked  trou- 
hled  and  eniliarrassed. 

At  the  same  moment  a  I  a  rye.  good  natured  lookiny  \M  • 
man  came  forward  with  Ida  in  her  arm-. 

"Now.  children."  said  she.  "the  little  la—  i-  ;,||  rivht . 
There's  nothing  in  life  the  matter  with  her.  barring  a  big 
scare.  So  keep  holt  of  her  hand  tighl.  and  run  home." 

"Thank  you."  answered  Ethel,  gratefully,  AS  -he  Hung 
lier  arms  around  Ida's  neck,  and  ki— ed  her  tear-stained 
cheek. 

"  1 'lease  come.  Kt  hel."  whispered  Harhara.  impatiently. 
A-  Kthel  turned  to  comply  she  noli  ceil  that  her  friend  was 
empty-handed. 

"  \\~here  is  your  new  hat  i"  inquired  Kthel. 

"  There."  answered  Barbara,  pointing  to  the  centre  of 
the  street. 

And  there  it  certainly  was.  hut  its  heaiity  had  departed 
forever.  The  delicate  straw  was  hroken.  and  the  silk  and 
flowers  crushed  into  a  soiled  heap.  More  than  twenty 
vehicles  had  passed  over  it  since  it.  was  tiling  there  h\  the 
girl's  own  hand. 

When  Barliara  started  forward  with  a  cry  she  had  seen 
little  Ida  step  off  the  sidewalk,  and  try  to  cross  the  street 
When  she  readied  the  spot  she  found  that  the  child  had 
fallen  directly  before  a  large  dra\.  and  was  completely 
SUrrounded  l>y  wagons.  To  save  her  Harhara  was  obliged 
to  )iass  under  the  poles  of  several  carts  and  carriages. 
which  she  did  without  hesitation.  Then  lifting  Ida  to 
her  feet,  she  turned  to  retrace  her  steps,  hut  found  that 
the  way  had  become  blocked,  and  just  behind  her  a  pair 
of  horses  had  grown  so  restive  as  to  be  almost  beyond  their 
driver's  control.  The  man  shouted  to  her  to  move  out  of 
the  way.  and  just  us  she  began  to  fear  that  they  would 
certainly  be  run  over,  the  driver  of  one  of  the  wagons 
stooped  from  his  high  seat,  and  cried: 

"Hand  me  the  young-  one.  Step  on  the  hub.  Be  spry. 
now." 

Barbara  could  not  lift  Ida  encumbered  as  she  was 
with  the  bandbox;  so  without  hesitation  she  flung  it 
down,  and  quickly  followed  the  man's  directions.  'When 
Ida  was  safe  she  gave  one  lingering  look  at  the  once  pret- 
t\  piece-  of  finery.  A  horse's  hoof  had  crushed  the  box 
and  bonnet  into  an  almost  unrecognizable  mass. 

Barbara  and  Ida  were  passed  on  from  one  vehicle  to  an- 
other, until  they  were  safely  deposited  upon  the  sidewalk. 


"You  dear,  yood  girl!"  said  Kthel.  as  they  slowly  made 
their  way  toward  home.  "  How  can  I  thank  you  enough  ! 
You  should  have  heard  how  every  one  was  praising  your 
pre-ence  of  mind  and  bravery." 

"Please  don't  say  any  more  about  it,"  replied  Barbara 
"  I  only  did  just  what  any  on. •  would  have  done." 

"But    I    am    -o    sorr\    annul    your   beautiful    new   hat!" 
continued  Kthel.      "What  will  your  grandmamma  sav.' 
And  to  think  it   is  all  my  fault  for  not   watching  Ida  bet 
ter!      (  >h  dear,  it's  just  too  bad  !" 

As  they  turned  toward  home  the  three  faces  were  all 
very  sad.  and  no  one  would  have  known  them  for  the 
happy  party  thai  met  on  the  corner  only  a  few  short  hours 
before. 

"  I  will  tell  mamma  or  Aunt  Nelly  at  once."  thought 
Klhel.  as  -he  entered  the  ln,u-e  "IVrhaps  there  is  yet 
time  to  bu\  another  bonnet  for  Barbara." 

.lust  as  -he  opened  the  door.  Hannah,  her  mother's 
servant,  came  hurrying  toward  her  with  a  telegram. 

"This  i-  for  your  aunt."  said  she.  "and  I'm  thinking 
you  had  belter  op.-n  it:  for  Miss  Nelly  stopped  in  a  short 
time  ayo  and  said  she  was  go  my  to  a  concert  this  even- 
in  Lr.  So  she  would  not  lie  back  till  late,  and  the  message 
may  be  particular." 

"Then  I  suppose  I  ought  to  open  it,"  said  Kthel.  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Ye-,  miss,  I  think  you  should." 

Klh.-l  1 1]  le  i  led  I  he  tdeyrain.  and  read  aloud  : 

"  NKI.I.Y.  Take  charge  of  the  children.  I  shall  be  de 
tallied  Ver\  late.  C.  (iRKKN." 

Thi-  was  a  dreadful  dda\.  but  nothing  w  as  to  be  done 
except  to  wait  patiently. 

The  evening  passed  slowly.  Hed  time  came,  and  Han- 
nah insisted  that  both  children  should  go  to  bed. 

So  Kthel  nndres-ed.  and  lay  wide  awake,  thinking,  until 
a  distant  church  clock  si  ruck  eleven  ;  then,  after  a  while, 
she  heard  a  carriage  drive  up  and  Aunt  Nelly  go  to  her 
own  room. 

Kl  hel  could  lie  still  no  Ion LKT.  -o  -he  ran  up  after  Aunt 
Nelly,  and  peeped  into  the  door. 

"  Who's  that  '"  said  Aunt  Nelly. 

"  It  is  only  1,"  answered  Kthel.  "I  knew  you  could 
not  be  asleep  yet.  and  I  want  to  tell  you  something." 

"Verj    well;    I   am  ready  to  listen.       ( 'nine  ill,  dear." 

It  was  so  pleasant  to  have  some  one  to  confide  her  trou 
hies  to  that  Klhel  told  her  story  quickly. 

\Vhen  -he  had  finished,  Aunt  Nelly  said: 

"  What  a  dear.  good,  brave  girl  Barbara  North  is!  I 
don't  wonder  you  love  her.  She  certainly  must  not  be 
disappointed.  I  will  make  lier  another  hat." 

"  But  the  parade  begins  to  form  at  half  past  seven."  said 
Ethel. 

"Yes.  I  know ."  answered  her  aunt.  "Now  go  to  bed 
and  try  to  sleep.  I  promise  Barbara's  hat  shall  be  fin- 
ished in  time." 

She  spoke  so  decidedly  that  Ethel  ran  back  to  her  own 
room,  and  was  soon  sleeping  so  peacefully  that  she  did  not 
awake  until  the  sun  shone  full  in  her  eyes. 

"What's  the  matter  f"  asked  Ida,  as  Ethel  sprang  sud- 
denly out  of  bed. 

"I  told  Aunt  Nelly  about  Barbara's  hat  last  night, 
and  she  promised  to  make  her  another  one  this  morning, 
so  I  am  going  to  call  her." 

"  Aiid  I'll  come  too,"  said  little  Ida. 

They  dressed  hurriedly,  and  scampered  off  to  Aunt 
Nelly's  room.  But,  early  as  it  was,  they  found  her 
putting  the  last  stitches  to  a  beautiful  cream  -  colored 
straw  hat,  lined  with  pink,  and  trimmed  with  apple  blos- 
soms. 

"  It  is  the  very  same,''  cried  both  children  at  once. 

"  No."  said  Aunt  Nelly:  "  this  is  my  last  summer's  hat 


468 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME   IV. 


•DON'T    SPEAK    UNTIL    IT    IS    FINISHED."' 


made  over.  These  flowers  I  wore  in  my  dress  last  night, 
and  this  pink  silk  is  one  of  my  sashes.  But  don't  speak 
until  it  is  finished." 

So  the  children  kept  very  still,  Ethel  leaning  on  the  back 
of  a  chair  that  stood  before  Ajint  Nelly,  and  Ida,  with  her 
elbows  on  the  seat,  watching  Aunt  Nelly's  nimble  fingers 
with  delighted  and  astonished  eyes. 

At  last  the  wonderful  bonnet  was  finished.  Ethel  gave 
her  aunt  a  kiss,  called  her  the  ''dearest  little  aunty  that 
ever  lived,''  and  hastened  with  it  to  Barbara. 

The  day  was  lovely,  the  parade  a  success,  and  of  all 
the  happy  faces  Barbara's  and  Ethel's  were  the  happiest. 

After  this  the  two  girls  became  even  firmer  friends  than 
ever.  And  although  Barbara  has  had  many  new  bonnets 
since  then,  she  still  keeps  a  little  faded  pink  hat  among 
her  other  treasures. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  A  M  E  S      OTIS, 
iR  OF  "  TOBY  TTLEU,"  "  TIM  AND  TIP,''  "  MR.  STUBES'S  BROTUER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIV.— ( i  'ontin ned.) 

CORAL  REEFS. 

'  "VTOW,  then,''  said  Captain  Sammy,  sternly,  "when 
_L 1  you  boys  went  off  I  told  you  that  when  you  came 
back  you  was  to  tell  me  what  caused  the  Florida  reefs,  the 
like  of  which  can't  be  found  anywhere  else  in  the  coun- 
try, didn't  I?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Dare;  "  but  we  don't  know  now  any 
better  than  we  did  when  we  started." 

''  Why  didn't  you  look  at  them,  an'  find  out,  as  we  was 
comin'  along?"  asked  the  little  man,  with  a  suppressed 
chuckle,  as  if  he  was  having  a  great  joke  all  by  himself. 

"  I  don't  think  the  keys  look  ditt'erent  from  any  island," 

*  Begun  iu  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


said  Dare,  who  almost  began  to  think 
that  Captain  Sammy  knew  no  more 
about  the  matter  than  they  did. 

"That's  just  because  you  don't 
know  anything  about  it,"  said  the 
little  man,  triumphantly. 

Inasmuch  as  the  boys  quite  agreed 
with  him  in  this  assertion,  they  said 
nothing,  and  he  was  disappointed  if 
he  had  thought  he  was  going  to  pro- 
voke an  argument. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  and  Captain 
Sammy  straightened  himself  up  in 
order  that  his  words  might  be  more 
impressive.  "I  know  all  about  it 
without  any  book,  but  I'll  just  keep 
one  in  my  hand  as  I  go  along,  for 
since  my  eyesight's  got  so  bad  I 
can't  hold  on  to  some  of  these  names 
as  I  used  to. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Florida  reefs 
don't  run  up  the  coast  this  way, 
though  some  folks  hold  that  all  tin- 
keys  and  reefs  along  the  coast  should 
be  reckoned  in  with  'em,  but  in  that 
I  have  my  opinion  and  you  can  have 
yours.  The  Florida  reef,  the  way 
we  call  it  down  here,  starts  from  a 
leetle  north  of  Cape  Florida,  an'  runs 
some  miles  beyond  Key  West.  All 
that  is  one  big  bank  of  coral,  with 
here  an'  there  spots  where  it's  been 
built  high  enough  to  come  atop  of 
the  water,  an'  then  llie  sand  washes 

up  on  it,  the  mangrove-trees  grow,  an'  then  they're  keys 
like  them  you  can  see  out  there  in  the  offing." 

Captain  Sammy  stopped  long  enough  to  assure  himself 
that  the  boys  were  paying  strict  attention,  and  then  con- 
tinued: 

"The  reef  runs  iu  a  regular  curve,  croppiu'  out  just  a 
leetle  here  an'  there,  from  Virginia  Key,  which  is  next  to 
Cape  Florida — an'  everybody  knows  the  cape  is  on  Key 
Biscayiie — to  a  leetle  west  of  the  Marquesas,  where  it  opens 
up  in  Reef  Channel  an'  Key  West  Harbor.  Then  it  runs 
nigh  on  to  sixty  miles  sou'-sou'west,  an'  then  about  a 
hundred  an'  forty  miles  west-sou'west,  perhaps  a  leetle 
more  westerly,  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Then 
for  about  thirty  miles  it  runs  west-nor'west,  taking  in  the 
Tortugas.  Now  you  keep  them  p'ints  of  the  compass  in 
your  mind  in  case  you  should  ever  want  to  coast  around 
that  way,  an'  you  an'  I  won't  have  any  t  rouble." 

Captain  Sammy  glared  over  his  glasses  in  order  to  learn 
if  there  was  any  chance  for  trouble  then,  and  finding  that 
there  was  none,  he  said,  solemnly: 

"Now  of  course  these  reefs  are  bein'  built  all  the  time, 
an'  what  you  want  to  know  is  how  that's  done.  Here 
goes  for  the  way  these  scholars  put  it,  an'  you  can  have 
your  'pinion  'bout  it,  an'  I  can  have  mine.  A  reef  is  a 
regular  limestone  wall  that  a  leetle  animal  they  call  po- 
lyps have  built,  by  sucking  in  the  water  that  has  got  li 

in  it,  and  throwing  the  lime  out  on  to  the  places  where 
they  want  to  build.  These  leetle  animals  can't  work 
where  the  water's  more'n  fifteen  fathom  deep,  so  you  see 
they  have  to  curve  around  just  as  the  land  curves.  Now 
they  go  to  work  and  build  great  knobs— coral  heads  we 
sailors  call  'em— all  the  way  around  in  this  fifteen  fathom 
of  water,  an'  they  keep  piliii'  em  up  till  they  are  about  six 
fathoms  from  the  surface.  There  they  stop,  for  they're 
sharp,  these  little  polyps  are,  an'  they  know  that  they 
can't  work  when  they  come  just  so  near  the  surface. 
Then  another  kind,  pretty  near  like  them,  that  can't 
work  except  in  shallow  water,  come  along  an'  build  on 
top  the  coral  heads  another  kind  of  stone.  Then  the  third 


MAY  20,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


469 


sort  of  little  fellows  come  an'  put  on  the  finishing  touches 
just  nl  the  top  of  tin'  water,  liiakin.ir  tlie  coral  that  line 
and  delicate  that  it  looks  like  leaves  ah'  grass." 

Tlie  little  man  stopped  only  long  enough  to  -wipe  liis 
glasses,  and  then  continued  : 

''Now,  you  see,  this  reef  is  a  regular  limestone  wall, 
straight  up  an'  down  to  seaward,  an'  sloping  toward  the 
land.  Well,  in  time  the  waves  grind  the  coral  that's  on 

the  top  into  sand ;  then  the  mud  that's  in  the  water  washes 

up,  anil,  take  everything  together,  it  makes  lolerahle  Mood 
soil.  All  the  mangrove-trees  around  ahout  shed  the  most 
part  of  their  seeds  ill  the  water,  heeaiise,  you  see.  growing 
over  it.  they  can't  help  themselves,  an'  the  seeds  tloal 
around  till  some  of  them  gel  washed  up  on  to  these  reels 

<)] ice  they  ".-ei  into  that  s.-md  the\  grow,  an'  that  settles  it 

so  far  as  the  reefs  go.  for  then  folks  or  turtles  can  live  on 
'em,  an'  they're  keys.  Now  that's  the  way  the  hooks  have 
it  that  the  reel's  an'  key  s  are  made,  an'  if  I  should  happen 
to  have  a  dill'ercnl  opinion  to  that.  you  see  you  ain't 
hound  to  take  it  thai  I'm  right,  liecause  you  an'  1  ne\er 

had  a  peg'lar  introduction  to  cadi  other." 

The  hoys  were  at  a  hiss  to  understand  how  the  ahsence 
of  an  introduction  could  all'ect  a  fad.  and  they  urged 
(  'aplain  Sammy  to  give  them  his  idea  of  the  formal  ion  of 
the  reel's,  or.  at  least,  how  it  dill'ercd  from  that  which  he 
had  slated  as  coming  from  "  hooks." 

Milt  the  little  man  was  so  decided  ill  his  refusals,  and  s, , 
guarded  in  his  replies  to  any  of  tile  quest  ions  intended  to 
draw  him  out.  that  they  soon  came  to  (lie  conclusion  that 
his  opinions  did  not  dill'er  in  any  way  from  those  of  the 
authorities  he  had  ((noted. 

"  You  see  there's  a  g 1  deal  more  about  this  end  of  l  his 

snug  little  State  that  you  ought  to  know."  said  Captain 
Sammy,  as  he  laid  aside  his  pipe,  which  had  long  since 

"g •    out,"    look    oil'    his    glasses,   and    closed    his    hook 

with  a  hang  that  caused  the  hoys  to  jump;  "hut  1  sha'n't 

tell  you   al t    it    now.  for  it    \\ill    keep  until   we  run   on 

to  it,  and.  hesidcs.  I  want  you  to  go  to  hed  now.  so  we 
can  make  an  early  start  in  the  morning." 

By  the  way  (  'aplain  Sam- 
my spoke  the  boys  knew 
that  there  was  no  use  in  Irv- 
ing to  prolong  the  conver- 
sation, and  they  crept  into 
their  berths,  feeling  that  an 
hour  a  Tier  sunset  was  alto- 
gether loo  e-irly  to  go  to  hed 
OH  the  lirsl  day  of  the  cruise. 

CHAPTER  XV 

THE    NIGHT   ALARM. 

THK  1'ctirl  lay  as  motion- 
less as  if  she  was  yet  high 
and  dry  on  the  beach  at 
Tampa,  and  there  appeared 
to  be  110  reason  whatever 
why  all  hands  should  not. 
have  a  comfortable  and  qui- 
et night's  rest.  The  night 
was  cold  enough  to  make 
the  warmth  of  the  bedclothes 
feel  comfortable  to  the  OC- 
cupants  of  the  cabin,  but.  not 
so  cold  as  to  prevent  the 
cabin  door  from  being  left 
open  to  admit  a  free  circu- 
lation of  air. 

It  seemed  to  Dare  that  it 
must  have  been  midnight 
when  he  was  awakened  by 
hearing  Captain  Sammy 
shout  angrily. 


"Now  what  are  you  about  .'  Why  don't  you  lie  still 
and  give  other  folks  a  chance  to  sleep  ?" 

Dare  supposed,  of  course,  that  Charley  or  Bobby  had 
gotten  up.  Bobby  had  the  berth  above  Captain  Sammy, 
and  Charley  slept  in  the  one  above  Dare,  therefore  the  lat- 
ter put  his  hand  up  to  his  brother's  berth  in  order  to  learn 
if  it  was  he  who  had  disturbed  the  little  man's  repose. 

But  (.'barley  was  not  the  one  w  !.;>  had  broken  the  quiet 
•  >l  l  lie  cabin,  for  as  Dare  touched  his  face  he  cried  out, 

"  Don't  fool ;  let  a  fellow  alone,  can't  you  :" 

"Don't  fool!"  echoed  Captain  Sammy,  unable  to  see 
what  was  going  on.  and  supposing  Charley  was  the  cul- 
prit who  had  awakened  him.  "  It's  no  fooling  matter  to 
kick  up  such  a  row  in  tlie  night,  and  I'll  let  yon  know 
that  I'm  not  fooling." 

"What — what — what's  the  matter  :"  asked  Charley,  in 
surprise. 

"  What's  tlie  matter  ;"  roared  ( 'aptain  Sammy,  growing 
so  angry  that  he  tried  to  sit  upright  in  his  berth,  and  hit 
his  head  against  the  boards  above  him  with  a  thump  that 
startled  Hobby.  "  I  want  to  know  what  you're  sky larkin' 
'round  for  at  this  time-  of  night  '." 

"I  ain't  sky  larking,"  said  Mobby,  roused  from  his  sleep 
hy  I  lie  thumping  of  the  little  man's  head  against  the  berth, 
and  thinking,  of  course,  that  he  was  spoken  to.  "  Was  I 
snoring,  sir  '." 

II'!. I    your  tongue   until   you    are   spoken   to,"  roared 
tin'  ('aptain:    to  which  Bobby  answered,  meekly, 

"  Yes.  sir." 

All  three  of  the  boys  now  began  to  think  thai  some 
dreadful  thing  had  happened,  and  that  one  of  the  others 
was  responsible  for  it,  while'  ('aplain  Sammy  was  ill  such 
a  towering  rage  that  he  could  hardly  explain  himself. 

"  Now  see  if  you  have  got  sense  enough  left  to  tell  me 
what  you  were  parading  around  the  cabin  lor  al  this  time 
of  night  '."  he  roared  out. 

"  Win  mi  are  y  on  speaking  to  .'"  asked  I  tare,  almost  be- 
ginning to  think  the  ( 'aptain  had  lost  his  senses. 

"  Why  you.  of  course.      Who  else  should  I  speak  to  ;" 


'"IT'S    ME-TOMMY    TUCKER-AX'    I'M    AWFUL    HUNGRY.'" 


470 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


iv. 


cried  the  little  man.  as  he  tried  in  vain  to  light  a 
match. 

"  I  haven't  been  out  of  bed  since  I  got  into  it."  replied 
Dare,  gravely. 

There  was  perfect  silence  in  the  cabin  for  a  moment, 
during  which  Captain  Sammy  succeeded  in  lighting  the 
lamp,  and  then  he  angrily  surveyed  the  cabin. 

Each  one  of  the  boys  was  in  bed,  and  there  were  no  ev- 
idences of  their  having  been  up  since  they  first  went  to 
sleep. 

Captain  Sammy  had  hopped  out  of  bed  on  one  leg,  and 
now,  after  seeing  what  seemed  to  be  proof  that  the  boys 
had  been  doing  nothing  worse  than  sleeping  soundly,  he 
hopped  back  to  his  berth,  strapped  on  his  wooden  stick, 
and  stumped  out  to  the  engine-room,  where  the  boys  could 
hear  him  accusing  Rogers  of  having  come  in  to  disturb 
the  sleep  of  the  occupants  of  the  cabin. 

Rogers  denied  having  done  anything  of  the  kind,  but 
scolded  at  the  little  man  for  having  awakened  him,  when 
he  had  probably  been  dreaming  of  a  disturbance. 

Captain  Sammy  growled  out  some  inaudible  reply,  and 
came  back  into  the  cabin  looking  less  angry  and  more 
mystified  than  when  he  left  it. 

He  put  out  the  lamp  and  got  into  bed,  insisting  that  he 
did  hear  some  one,  although  the  proof  he  had  should  have 
convinced  him  that  he  was  mistaken. 

It  was  some  time  after  this  before  any  of  them  could 
get  to  sleep;  but  after  a  while  they  dropped  off  into  slum- 
ber, until  Dare  was  the  only  one  awake. 

Just  as  his  eyes  were  closing,  and  he  had  nearly  yielded 
to  the  same  influence,  he  was  conscious  of  a  rustling  sound 
as  if  some  one  was  moving  near  him. 

He  turned  over  quickly  in  alarm,  and  was  about  to  cry 
out  when  a  hand  was  laid  over  his  mouth,  and  the  in- 
truder whispered  softly  in  his  ear, 

"It's  me — Tommy  Tucker — an'  I'm  awful  hungry." 

Dare  was  so  surprised  that  he  could  not  have  spoken 
even  if  Tommy's  hand  had  not  been  over  his  mouth.  He 
understood  now  that  Captain  Sammy  had  really  heard 
some  one  in  the  cabin,  but  how  it  could  possibly  be  Tom- 
my Tucker  was  more  than  he  could  make  out.  He  was 
trying  to  understand  it  all  when  the  boy  whispered  again, 

"  I'm  awful  hungry." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  here  ?''  Dare  asked,  as  soon  as  he 
could  remove  Tommy's  hand  from  his  mouth. 

"I  hid  under  Captain  Sammy's  berth  this  mornin' 
when  you  was  all  eatin'  your  breakfast.  I  didn't  know 
he  was  coniin'  with  you,  an'  I  knew  lie  wouldn't  let  me 
come  if  he  knew  it;  so  I  thought  I'd  hide  there  till  you 
started.  I've  been  in  that  little  inite  of  a  place  since 
mornin',  an'  I'm  'most  dead." 

[TO    UK    (  O.NT1M  KI).] 


"SCALES  AND  ARPEGGIOS." 

BY  I.CfY  C.  LILLIE. 

"  T T7HAT  I  want  to  hear  from  you,"  said  Von  Billow  to 

*  \     a  young  lady  who  applied  to  him  for  instruction, 
"  is  a  scale  and  an  arpeggio." 

The  young  lady  played  the  scale  of  E  minor,*  and  the 
chord  of  a  flat  in  arpeggio.  Again  and  again  she  had  to 
repeat  them,  each  time  following  some  special  instruction 
from  the  master,  and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  she  found 
herself  doing  them  in  a  manner  altogether  new  to  herself, 
and  certainly  very  much  better  than  she  had  ever  done 
them  before.  That  half-hour's  experience,  it  seems  to  me, 
was  invaluable,  for  it  taught  her  that  even  when  a  thing 
seems  to  be  well  done  it  can  always  be  improved  upon, 
and  that  the  scale  she  felt  so  simple  a  performance  really 
meant  a  great  deal  more  than  young  students  think. 

*  Tliis  scale  is  the  one  commonly  used  abroad  as  a  sort  of  test. 


I  have  heard  elderly  ladies  say  that  when  they  were 
taught  music,  forty  years  ago,  for  instance,  the  amount 
done  was  almost  the  only  thing  ever  considered.  They 
rattled  off  so  many  scales  an  hour,  practiced  the  "Battle 
of  Prague, "or  the  "Dew-drop  Waltz"  another  hour,  and 
really  felt  themselves  quite  brilliant  musicians.  But  in 
those  days  only  professional  players  really  studied. 

I  do  not  want  to  say  anything  against  our  grandmam- 
mas'sincerity,  but  certainly  musical  study  was  not  then  in 
any  way  a  fine  art.  Girls  at  school  or  under  a  governess 
"took"  it,  just  as  they  all  "took"  drawing  lessons.  Is 
there  any  household,  I  wonder,  where  souvenirs  of  the  past 
are  cherished  without  some  pictures  of  large  flat-looking 
flowers  on  pasteboard,  or  without  a  music-book  full  of  old- 
fashioned,  and  I  regret  to  say  painfully  unclassical,  music  ? 
Unfortunately  young  people  of  to-day  "take"  music  very 
much  too  often  in  much  of  this  old  inartistic  spirit,  but 
happily  such  rarely  perform  after  they  leave  school.  The 
students  whose  music  is  nowadays  considered  worth  any- 
thing is  the  student  who  tJtinks  and  feels  and  is  pa- 
tient. 

I  suppose  no  question  in  musical  instruction  is  more 
difficult  than  that  of  a  proper  selection  of  exercises  or  stud- 
ies. After  and  with  the  five-finger  practice  must  come 
the  scales  and  some  fitting  study,  and  I  have  heard  from 
the  very  best  masters  that  what  may  be  called  a  "  jumble" 
is  of  all  things  most  ruinous  to  style  and  correctness. 

"  I  study  twenty  different  kinds  of  exercises,"  I  heard  a 
young  miss  remark  to  a  friend. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  the  other,  with  a  look  of  the  greatest 
admiration,  "and  I  have  only  five!" 

I  felt  as  if  I  should  like  to  have  tested  the  playing  of 
those  two  young  people  comparatively. 

Of  course  every  school  or  conservatory  has  its  own 
ideas,  and  I  am  sure  my  young  readers  could  tell  me  of 
fifty  different  and  perhaps  equally  excellent  methods  of 
teaching  used  by  their  different  teachers,  but  the  main 
points,  if  successful,  must  be  the  same;  and  of  course  our 
object  is  not  to  teach;  rather  is  it  to  help  the  teacher  by  a 
little  outside  impetus— something  to  make  study  seem  a 
little  more  entertaining  and  worth  while. 

The  best  foreign  masters,  I  think,  recommend  for  etnilt'x, 
or  exercises,  Cranmer,  Czerny,  Moscheles,  Gradus,  and 
Hummel,  but  Czerny  much  more  carefully  studied  than 
most  young  students  think  necessary;  and,  for  strengthen- 
ing the  playing,  most  emphatically  dear  old  Bach.  A  very 
famous  young  pianist  told  me  that  she  made  the  most  care- 
ful study  of  Czerny  and  Bach,  and  never  found  herself 
able  to  play  in  public  without  going  through  beforehand 
half  an  hour  of  the  simple  "  five-finger"  and  half  an  hour 
of  Bach;  then  a  third  half-hour  of  her  old  friend  C/erny 
in  one  of  his  etudes  de  velocite. 

Now  it  seems  to  me,  for  an  every-day  rule  of  musical 
practice,  one  could  hardly  do  better  than  follow  Mademoi- 
selle G 's  rule,  only  I  would  enjoy  better  giving  fifteen 

minutes  at  a  time  to  the  five-finger,  and  fifteen  to  each  of 
the  others,  alternating  between  Bach  and  the  five-finger. 
If  one  adopts  a  regular  system  of  practice,  there  is  such  a, 
satisfaction  in  feeling  one  is  doing  something  thoroughly. 
I  think  the  only  striking  advantage  in  studying  in  a  con- 
servatory is  that  one  must  do  things  slowly  and  syMemat 
ically;  but  any  young  student  at  home,  and  with  a  good 
teacher,  may  do  this,  if  the  mind  and  heart  and  will  only 
can  be  made  to  act  together.  Three  months  of  Czerny 
might  be  replaced  by  three  months  of  Moscheles,  and  so 
lay  the  foundations  for  Chopin,  which  is  an  admirable 
study,  even  as  a  study,  and  for  Beethoven,  whose  music 
can  always  be  divided  and  .subdivided  as  studies  for  a  stu- 
dent of  almost  any  age. 

Although  study  with  a  view  to  making  music  a  "ca- 
reer" is  different  in  one  sense  from  study  simply  for  love 
of  it  as  an  art  and  a  personal  resource,  yet  the  same  guid- 
ing rules  must  be  the  same,  and  the  young  student  who 


HAY  2'.i,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


says  to  herself,  "Oh,  but  I  never  should  w.-mt  to  play  hi 
public!"  ought  to  work  with  the  same  spirit  as  the  one 
who  looks  forward  to  a  public  life,  the  only  difference  lie- 
ing  in  the  time  bestowed  upon  it.  If  for  a  professional 
future  six  and  eight  hours  a  day  are  required,  besides  a 
complete  musical  life,  but  two  hours  a  day  well  employed 
can  work  wonders  with  the  amateur  student,  and  with 
what  a  feeling-  of  joyful  possession  does  not  such  a  one 
reach  a  day  when  she  can  really  interpret  the  nia-ter's 
meaning!  It  ought  never  to  be  eonsidered  in  the  light  of 
an  accomplishment,  only  as  an  art  to  be  acquired  for  it 
self,  and  for  the  joy  there  is  in  acquiring  and  possessing 
it.  If  you  do  not  feel  that  your  music  will  make  you 
yourself  happy,  even  though  you  were  alone  and  never  to 
be  heard,  then  do  not  try  to  pursue  it.  Be  very  certain 
that  no  one  will  care  for  what  you  can  do  in  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  many  people  who  for 
some  reason — usually  a  defective  touch  or  lack  of  proper 
feeling  for  music— can  never  become  executants;  yet  such 
a  one  can  nearly  always  derive  the  greatest  profit  and  en- 
joyment from  the  theon'tii'dl  study  of  music.  I  often 
wonder  why  this  is  not  considered  a  necessary  study,  in- 
dependent of  musical  performance,  just  as  other  sciences 
are  taught,  for  by  this  means  you  can  open  up  a  whole 
Held  of  thought  and  enjo\  men). 

Listening  to  music  becomes  another  and  neuer  delight. 
and,  besides,  you  can  be  in  possession  at  leas!  of  the  .sr/'- 
ence  of  one  of  the  noblest  arts.  The  best  composers  ha\  e 
by  no  means  been  the  best  performers;  indeed,  ihe  very  re- 
verse has  often  been  the  case,  and  s •  of  the  very  best 

teachers  abroad  play  but  indill'ereiil  ly  well;  that  is,  the 
best  teachers  of  ti'fhiiiqtK',  for  when  people  speak  of  tak- 
ing lessons  from  Lis/l,  or  Kubhistein.  or  Biilow.  etc..  it 
usually  means  only  playing  pieces  the  notes  of  which 
they  have  learned  for  these  great  masters,  who  correct 
their  style  and  offer  suggestions. 

Music  as  a  ll ry  requires,  no  doubt,  years  of  study  be- 
fore the  whole,  or  even  the  suggestion  of  the  whole,  is  at- 
tained; but  a  great  deal  that  is  very  satisfactory  ma\  In- 
learned  in  a  much  shorter  time  ;  and  to  the  young  student 
who  feels  no  "instinct"  for  performance  let  me  suggest 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  a  day  of  "theory":  perhaps  it 
may  develop  the  lacking  instinct;  at  all  events,  if  perse- 
vered in,  it  must  lead  to  much  satisfaction  in  hearing  and 
understanding  the  music  011  all  sides  of  us  to-day. 


THOR'S  JOURNEY  TO  JOTUNHEM. 

B  Y    J  A  M  E  S    B  A  L  D  W  I  X. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FOR  a  whole  day  Thor  and  his  two  young  companions 
wandered  in  the  forest,  and  yetthey  met  not  a  single  per 
son,  nor  saw,  indeed,  a  single  living  creature.  At  night. 
foot-sore  and  hungry,  they  sought  some  place  where  they 
might  lie  down  and  rest,  for  the  dinner  bag  which  Tliialfe 
carried  was  empty,  and  they  must  needs  go  supperless  to 
bed  Just  as  they  were  about  to  give  up  all  hopes  of  find- 
ing shelter  they  spied  what  seemed  to  be  a  large  brown 
house  without  a  single  window,  and  with  but  one  great 
door  as  wide  as  the  building  itself.  As  they  proceeded  it 
seemed  to  be  entirely  empty,  and  when  they  entered  they 
found  no  chairs  nor  beds,  nor,  indeed,  any  furniture  at  all. 
On  their  left  was  a  great  round  empty  room,  upon  the 
floor  of  which  they  lay  down:  and  as  they  were  very 
tired,  they  soon  fell  asleep. 

How  long  they  slept  they  did  not  know,  but  they  were 
awakened  by  an  earthquake  which  shook  the  forest,  and 
threatened  to  tumble  the  house  down  upon  their  heads. 
When  the  earthquake  was  over,  a  loud  and  harsh  rum- 
bling and  roaring  continued  to  be  heard,  and  this  was 
kept  up  until  the  dawn  of  day. 


As  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see,  Thor  went  out 
and  looked  around.  Under  a  great  oak-tree  he  saw  a 
giant  lying  asleep:  and  he  knew  then  that  the  noise  they 
had  heard  in  the  night  was  but  the  snoring  of  this  huge 
monster.  While  Thor  stood  gazing  at  him  in  wonderment 
the  .i.int  awoke,  and  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  lazily  arose. 
Then  Thor  was  mightily  amazed,  for  of  all  the  giants  he 
had  ever  seen  this  one  surpassed  them  all.  Far  up  to  the 
very  tree-tops,  whose  branches  were  among  the  clouds,  the 
giant  towered,  and  puny  Thor  could  scarcely  reach  as  high 
as  his  ankle.  Yet  the  Thunderer  was  not  afraid.  He 
looked  ii])  at  the  great  giant,  \\  hose  face  was  hidden  in  the 
mists  of  the  morning,  and  called  out, 

••(iood  giant,  tell  me  thy  name,  I  pray." 

The  giant  answered  in  hoarsest  thunder-tones: 

"  My  name  is  Skrymer;  but  I  know  who  thou  art,  with- 
out asking  thee.  Thou  art  Thor;  for  nobody  else  would 
dare  to  come  unbidden  into  the  giants'  country.  By-the- 
\\ay.  I  see  before  you  one  of  my  mittens  which  I  lost  last 
evening." 

And  lie  reached  down  with  his  great  hand  and  took  up 
the  house  in  which  Thor  and  his  comrades  had  passed  the 
night;  for  it  u  as.  indeed,  nothing  but  the  giant's  mitten, 
and  the  chamber  where  they  bad  slept  was  but  the  thumb 
of  the  mitten. 

"Where  is  little  Asa-Thor  going  with  his  two  little 
servants  :"  asked  Skrymer,  in  tones  of  mock  gentleness. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  castle  of  L'tgard-Loke,  the  King  of 
.lotunhem."  answered  Thor. 

"  How  would  you  like  for  me  to  go  with  you  and  show 
\oii  the  way  '."  asked  the  giant. 

Thor  readily  accepted  the  giant's  offer,  for  he  had  not 
the  remotest  idea  where  the  great  castle  of  Utgard-Loke 
was.  nor  in  what  direction  he  should  go  to  lind  it. 

Skrymer  kindly  shared  his  food  with  the  three  travellers, 
and  after  they  had  eaten  a  hearty  breakfast  they  set  out 
on  their  journey.  All  day  long  they  jogged  onward 
through  the  forest,  the  giant  striding  before,  and  never 
making  the  slightest  pause.  At  sunset  they  halted  under 
a  wide  spreading  oak.  and  Skrymer  at  once  lay  down  to 
sleep,  saying  to  Thor, 

"  Take  the  bag  that  holds  my  food,  and  when  you  have 
opened  it,  help  yourselves  to  what  you  find  in  it.  I  want 
no  supper  for  myself." 

Thor  took  the  bag.  and  they  went  to  a  neighboring 
grove,  where  they  tried  with  all  their  skill  and  patience  to 
open  it.  But  the  more  they  pulled  at  the  strings  the 
tighter  they  became,  nor  could  they  unloose  a  single  knot. 
For  a  whole  hour  Thor  worked  with  the  stubborn  bag. 
At  last  his  good  nature  as  well  as  his  patience  entirely 
gave  out.  He  dropped  the  bag  upon  the  ground,  and 
seized  his  hammer  in  both  hands,  and  in  a  very  angry 
mood  walked  over  to  the  place  where  the  giant  Skrymer 
was  sleeping.  Thor  raised  his  hammer  high  in  air,  and 
then  struck  him  upon  the  head  with  all  his  might. 

The  giant  yawned  and  opened  his  eyes,  and  when  he 
saw  Thor  standing  near  him  he  said: 

"My  dear  little  Asa-Thor.  are  you  still  up 'd  Why 
don't  you  find  a  soft  quiet  place  and  lie  down  to  sleep  ? 
I  have  been  having  a  very  pleasant  nap;  but  just  now 
something  fell  upon  my  head  and  waked  me.  I  think  it 
must  have  been  a  leaf  .from  the  branches  of  this  old  tree." 

"I  am  just  making  ready  to  go  to  sleep,"  answered 
Thor,  and  he  tried  to  hide  his  hammer  under  his  cloak. 

Thor  went  back  to  the  grove  where  he  had  left  Thialfe 
and  Eoska.  and  as  they  could  not  get  at  the  food  in  the 
bag,  they  made  up  their  minds  that  they  must  go  to  bed 
supperless  again.  But  Skrymer  snored  so  loudly  that  not 
one  of  them  could  sleep.  At  about  midnight  Thor's  wrath 
waxed  so  great  that  he  could  bear  it  no  longer.  He  seized 
his  hammer  again,  and  running  quickly  to  the  g'iant,  struck 
him  a  most  fearful  blow  upon  the  top  of  the  head,  so  that 
the  hammer  sank  into  his  skull  clear  up  to  the  handle. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Skrymer  jumped  up  quickly  and  scratched  his  head, 
and  cried  out: 

"  What  is  the  matter  now  ?  It  is  very  strange  that  I 
can  not  be  allowed  to  sleep.  The  acorns  keep  falling 
from  this  tree,  and  just  now  one  struck  me  square  upon 
the  head.  How  goes  it  with  you,  Asa-Thor  ?  Have  you 
been  asleep  ?" 

"  I  have  been  sleeping  as  soundly  as  I  could/'  answer- 


ed Tlior;  "but  hearing  you  complain,  and  fearing  that 
something  might  ail  you,  I  came  over  to  ask  how  you 
were  resting.  Now  I  will  go  back.  Good-night!" 

"  Good-night  !"  said  the  giant. 

Thor  wont  back  to  his  place,  but  he  still  felt  very  angry 
with  Skrymer,  and  he  thought  that  if  he  could  but  strike 
the  giant  again  he  would  put  an  end  to  him.  But  Skry- 
mcr  seemed  to  be  wakeful:  and  it  was  not  until  the  red 


streaks  of  dawn  were  seen  in  the  east  that  he  settled  him- 
self and  recommenced  his  snoring.  Thru  Thor  crop!  sly- 
ly up  to  him,  and  swung  his  hammer  with  all  his  might, 
and  struck  him  full  upon  the  temples,  and  the  heavy  steel 
sank  out  of  sight  in  the  giant's  brain. 

Skrymer  sat  up  and  stroked  his  long  beard,  and  said: 
"How  short  the  night  has  been!  Here  it  is  already 
daylight,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  had  hardly  slept  at  all. 
There  must  be  birds  flying  through  the  tree-tops,  for  I  was 
awakened  by  a  piece  of  bark  falling  upon  my  head.  How 
did  you  rest  last  night,  good  Asa-Thor  >" 

"  Not  so  well  as  one  might  wish,  kind  giant,''  answered 
Thor;  "yet  as  soon  as  I  awoke  I  hurried  over  to  ask  about 
yourself,  for  I  heard  you  groaning  in  the  night,  and  feared 
that  you  were  sick.'' 

' '  I  am  not  so  well  as  I  might  be, "  said  Skrymer. 
"But  lam  still  able  to  travel.  I  think  it  is  about 
time  that  you  were  making  ready  to  start,  for  the 
road  to  Utgard's  castle  is  long 
and  rough.  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  leave  you  here,  for  the  cas- 
tle is  east  of  us,  and  I  must 
go  on  toward  the  north.  But 
liet'ore  we  part  let  me  tell  you 
something.  When  yon  come 
before  Utgard  -  Loke  don't 
boast  about  what  you  can  do. 
for  there  are  many  big  men 
I  hero.  You  think  that  I  am 
tall,  but  I  am  a  mere  child  by 
the  side  of  some  of  the  I'tgard 
folk.  They  will  not  think 
much  of  such  little  fellows  as 
yon.  So.  above  all,  be  \\aro 
of  bragging." 

Having  said  these  words. 
Skrymer  slung  his  dinner 
bag  over  his  shoulder  and  set 
out  with  long-  strides  toward 
the  north. 

Thor  and  his  two  coin 
rades  turned  their  steps  east 
ward,  and  in  a  short  time 
came  to  a  broad  highway 
which  they  followed.  About 
noon  they  reached  the  out- 
skirts of  a  broad  plain.  In 
the  plain  they  saw  a  large 
castle,  the  towers  of  which 
.  rose  above  the  clouds.  Thor 
knew  that  this  must  be  the 
palace  of  Utgard-Loke,  the 
Giant-King  of  Jotunhem. 
He  now  pushed  rapidly  for- 
ward: but  although  the  cas- 
tle seemed  quite  near,  it  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  before 
the  walls  of  the  huge  fort  ress 
were  reached.  The  wide  moat 

was  full  of  water,  and  the  single  draw-bridge  was  down. 
But  when  they  had  crossed  the  bridge  and  come  to  the 
great  gate  they  found  it  shut  and  locked. 

For  a  long  time  Thor  beat  lustily  upon  the  gate;  and 
they  all  cried  out  as  loud  as  they  could  for  the  porter 
to  open  and  let  them  in.  But  no  one  seemed  to  hear  or 
heed  them.  At  last,  when  the  sun  was  almost  down,  they 
became  so  impatient  that  they  could  wait  no  longer;  and 
they  climbed  up  to  the  key-hole  and  crept  through  it,  and, 
one  by  one,  dropped  quietly  into  the  court-yard  below. 
The  gate-keeper,  who  was  a  very  large  giant,  sat  on  his 
bench  last  asleep,  and  they  hurried  past  him  without  be- 
ing heard  or  seen. 

[TO    BE    COXTINfKD.] 


MAY  29,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOl'I.K. 


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HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  QUEER  KIND  OF  HOLIDAY. 

BY  DAVID  KEK. 

"  T7UNE  day  we've  got  for  it— eh.  Bob?'' 

_T  ''First-rate,  old  fellow;  and  the  wind  all  in  our 
favor,  too.  I  say,  let's  stand  out  to  sea  a  bit:  it's  no  fun 
dodging-  about  the  coast  this  way." 

They  were  young  sailors  who  spoke  thus.  Neither 
could  have  been  above  fourteen ;  and  in  1742  the  east- 
ern coast  of  England  was  very  different  from  what  it  is 
now  in  1883.  Light-houses  were  few  and  far  between. 
Sunken  rocks  and  shoals,  not  yet  set  down  on  any  chart, 
abounded  all  along  the  coast.  "Worse  still,  the  savage 
fellows  that  haunted  the  shore,  and  lived  upon  the  plun- 
der of  wrecked  vessels,  thought  nothing  of  showing  false 
lights  to  lure  a  storm-beaten  ship  to  her  doom,  or  of  quiet- 
ing with  a  timely  knock  on  the  head  any  one  who  might 
have  survived  to  dispute  their  right  to  her  cargo. 

But  all  this  did  not  trouble  Bob  and  Jim  in  the  least. 
They  were  out  for  a  day's  sport,  and  a  day's  sport  they 
meant  to  have,  come  what  might.  Young  as  they  were, 
it  was  not  the  first  time  they  had  taken  a  boat  out  to 
sea  in  rough  weather;  and  when  Jim.  taking  the  tiller, 
shouted  to  Bob  to  "let  go  the  sheet, "and  they  felt  them- 
selves flying  over  the  water  like  sea-birds,  both  boys  fairly 
shouted  with  delight. 

"When  I'm  a  man,"  cried  Bob.  "and  have  money 
enough,  I'll  be  a  pilot,  and  have  a  craft  of  my  own,  and 
cruise  about  all  day  on  the  lookout  for  jobs." 

"And  I'll  be  Captain  of  a  frigate,"  added  Jim.  "and  sail 
all  round  the  world,  into  all  sorts  of  places  where  nobody's 
ever  been." 

For  two  or  three  hours  the  young  sailors  wore  perfectly 
happy;  but  at  length  Jim  said,  rather  seriously: 

"Hadn't  we  better  put  her  about?  I  can  hardly  see 
the  shore,  and  you  know  we  promised  Sam  to  bring  the 
boat  back  before  dark." 

"Just  one  half -hour  more,"  pleaded  Bob;  "we  don't 
have  a  cruise  like  this  every  day.' 

Away  they  went  again;  but  meanwhile  the  broe/e  had 
freshened  to  a  strong  wind,  which  was  fast  rising  into  a 
gale.  The  dancing  ripples  had  turned  into  white,  leaping 
waves,  one  of  the  hugest  of  which  burst  suddenly  over 
the  gunwale,  drenching  both  lads  to  the  skin. 

Jim's  clear  gray  eyes  were  bright  and  fearless  as  ever, 
but  his  firm  lips  were  set,  while  even  the  reckless  Bob  be- 
gan to  look  serious. 

"  I— I  think  we'd  better  put  about,"  faltered  he. 

"Too  late,"  replied  Jim,  decisively;  "all  we  can  do 
now  is  to  keep  her  before  the  wind.  If  this  wind  don't 
change,  the  next  land  we  shall  see  (provided  we  see  laud 
again)  will  be  the  coast  of  Holland." 

"  Pleasant!"  sputtered  Bob,  ruefully,  as  another  wave 
filled  his  eyes  and  mouth  with  brine.  "I  wish  I'd  let 
you  turn  when  you  wanted  to." 

"  Never  mind,  old  boy;  it  can't  be  helped  now.  Catch 
hold  of  this  hit  of  bread  and  red  herring;  we- shall  want 
all  our  strength  before  long." 

They  did  so,  indeed.  A  few  minutes  later  a  furious 
squall  burst  upon  the  devoted  boat.  Before  Bob's  numb- 
ed fingers  could  obey  Jim's  shout  of  "Down  with  the 
sail !"  the  gale  struck  her  with  its  full  force.  The  light 
mast  snapped  like  a  stick  of  sealing-wax,  down  came  yard 
and  sail  with  a  run,  and  the  hampered  boat  careened  till 
the  sea  poured  into  her  like  a  cataract. 

How  Jim  managed  to  get  forward  and  cut  away  the 
wreck  he  never  knew.  But  the  boat  righted  at  last,  and 
they  began  to  bale  her  out,  having  first  lashed  the  helm 
amidships  to  keep  her  steady. 

Afternoon  waned  into  evening,  and  evening  deepened 
into  night — a  night  that  seemed  endless  to  the  forlorn 
boys,  now  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  wind  and  wave.  About 
an  hour  after  midnight  a  deluge  of  rain  burst  upon  them. 


showing  that,  the  storm  was  near  its  end.  and  they  hailed 
the  favorable  sign  with  a  cheery  hurrah.  But  the  iie.xt 
moment  Bob  shouted  frantically, 

"  Port  your  helm  !  here's — 

Before  he  could  finish,  a  huge  black  shadow  seemed  to 
start  up  over  them  right  out  of  the  sea.  There  was  a  tre- 
mendous shock  and  a  deafening  crash,  and  their  shattered 
boat  went  down  like  a  stone  into  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
leaving  them  clinging  convulsively  to  a  tangled  mass  of 
cordage. 

"I  say  I"  cried  Jim,  who  was  the  first  to  reach  the  deck 
of  the  vessel  against  which  they  had  been  dashed,  "this  is 
'out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire."  The  old  tub's  half 
full  of  water,  and  there's  not  a  soul  on  board !" 

"Isn't  there  f"  shouted  Bob,  bending  his  head  eagerly 
forward.  "Listen!" 

Sure  enough,  at  that  Very  moment  a  faint  knocking 
was  heard  right  under  their  feet,  and  a  feeble  crv  of 
"Help!" 

"There's  some  fellowshut  in  here,"  cried  Jim,  pointing' 
down  the  after-hatchway,  which  was  quite  choked  with 
broken  spars  and  fragments  of  wreck.  "Bear  a  hand, 
Bob,  and  we'll  soon  have  him  out  of  that." 

The  hatchway  was  speedily  cleared  of  rubbish,  a  door  at 
its  foot  flung  open,  and  a  man,  gasping  and  gurgling  as  if 
strangled,  fell  forward  into  their  arms.  They  dragged 
him  up  into  the  fresh  air,  and  he  began  to  revive  at  once, 
although  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  speak.  While 
Bob  was  attending  to  him  Jim  examined  the  condition  of 
the  vessel.  The  foremast  was  still  standing,  but  the 
main  and  mizzen  masts  had  gone  by  the  board,  and  the 
planking  on  the  starboard-quarter  was  completely  stove 
in,  while  the  hold  was  nearly  full  of  water.  The  only 
comforting  facts  were  that  the  wind  had  fallen,  and  that 
the  sea  was  evidently  going  down  likewise. 

"He'll  do  now,"said  Bob, coming  up.  "I've  propped 
him  against  a  spare  sail,  and  he  says  he'll  be  all  right  pres- 
ently. He  tells  me  his  name  is  Crossley,  and  that  he's 
a  rich  merchant  homeward-bound  to  London  from  the 
Baltic.  When  they  took  to  the  boats  he  ran  down  to  get 
some  money  or  something,  and  those  timbers  fell  and 
blocked  him  in,  and  the  crew  went,  off  without  him." 

"Well,  look  here,"  cried  Jim;  "this  craft's  loaded  with 
timber,  so  that  she's  not  likely  to  sink;  and  I  don't  believe 
she's  leaking  either,  or  the  water  in  her  would  be  a  deal 
higher.  Let's  try  the  pumps  and  see." 

To  work  they  went,  and  were  soon  joined  by  Mr.  Cross- 
ley,  who,  now  that  his  faintness  had  worn  off,  did  as  much 
work  as  both  of  them,  together.  After  a  long  spell  of 
pumping  Bob  went  to  "try  the  well."  and  returned  with 
the  good  news  that  the  \\aler  had  fallen  six  inches. 

"Bravo!"  cried  Jim;  "we'll  pump  her  dry  in  a  few 
hours  at  this  rate,  for  it's  only  the  after-hold  that's  been 
filled.  Let's  look  about  for  something  to  eat.  and  then  at 
it  again." 

After  some  search  they  rummaged  out  a  biscuit  chest. 
and  a  small  cask  of  water  still  unhurt  by  the  sea.  While 
they  were  eating,  a  faint  gleam  of  light  began  to  show  it- 
self in  the  east. 

"Hollo!"  cried  Bob;  "I  thought  this  was  supper,  and 
it  turns  out  to  be  breakfast.  Look  alive,  mates;  the 
sun  '11  beon  deck  soon,  and  he  mustn't  catch  us  skulking. " 

At  it  they  went  again,  and  by  sunrise  the  ship  was  so 
much  lightened  and  the  sea  so  calm  that  the  three  worn- 
out  workers  thought  they  might  venture  upon  a  nap. 
When  Jim  awoke  again  the  sun  was  well  above  the 
horizon. 

"Bob,"  cried  he  to  his  chum,  who  opened  his  eyes  at 
that  moment,  "here's  a  breeze  getting  up  from  the  east. 
Now  it'  we  can  only  manage  to  get  some  sail  upon  the  old 
craft,  I  think  we'll  find  our  way  home  yet." 

Bob  and  Mr.  (  Yossley  were  on  their  feet  in  a  twinkling, 
and  the  three  set  to  work  to  make  sail.  The  foremast 


MAY    li'.i.  1883. 


IIAIII'EIl'S  Y<>rXG  PEOPI.K. 


1:75 


and  jili  boom  being  .still  sound,  they  succeeded  —not  with- 
out .-nine  ilitliculty — in  hoisting  tin'  jib  and  foretopsail. 
'I'iieiL  .lini  went  In  the  helm,  while  his  crew  of  one  man 
and  a  boy  stood  ready  to  ohey  his  orders.  For  even  in 
this  first  boyish  adventure  of  one  who  ailerward  became 

so  famous  he  seemed  alread  3   to  command  and  beobi\ed 

quite  as  a  matter  of  course. 

The  breeze  freshened,  and  the  lightened  ship  went  pn-t 
ty   rapidly  through  the  water.      All   thai  day  sin-   ran  be 
fore  the  wind  on  a  westerlj  course,  and  just  about   night- 
fall  our  three  voyagers  saw  the  distant    coast   of  England 
looming  shadow-like  along  the  hori/on. 

"Thank  God!"  said  the  merchant,  drawing  a  Long 
breath. 

"  \Ve  haven't  made  such  a  bad  voyage,  after  all." 
laughed  Jim.  "  \Ye  went  out  in  a  boat,  and  we're  com- 
ing i)ack  in  a  ship.  I'm  sorr\  I'm-  p •  old  Sam.  though. 

losing  ]jj<  lioat,  because  he  was  so  kind  a-  to  lend  it  to  us. 
If  we  get  any  salvage  for  bringing  this  era  ft  into  port  we'll 
give  it  to  him." 

"Never  mind  the  boat.  m\  boy."  rejoined  Cros^le\  , 
"I'll  make  that  good:  and  you  may  reh  upon  si -sal- 
vage for  saving  my  life,  whether  you  gel  any  for  Un- 
ship or  not.  liy-the  K\  e.  w  hat's  your  name 

"  .lames  (  'ook."  answered  the  boy. 

"I'll  remember  it,"  said  Crosslev;  "and  I'm  much 
mistaken  if  all  England  doesn't  some  da\  remember  it 
too." 

1  le  spoke  truly.       Thirty  years  later  that   barefooted  bo\ 
was  the  greatest   seaman  and  e\  plorer  in    I'.rilain  .  and    M  r 
(  'ros>le\  ,  I  hen  a   w  bile  haired,  w  rink  led  old  man  of  seven- 
ty-five,  was    never   tired    of   telling    his    friends   about    the 
strange  voyage   thai   he  had  once  made  in  a  w  ater  -logged 

Vessel    \\  lib    (  '.Vl'TAIX  (  '<>l>K. 


AN    KNVoKNTKH   WITH   A    BEAR. 

AN  Indian  Imnter.  who  knew  of  two  liltei-s  of  cubs. 
which  he  intended  to  capture  as  soon  as  they  were 
old  enough  to  be  taken  from  their  mother,  was  anticipated 
in  one  case  by  a  black  cat,  and  in  the  other  b\  a  fox 
The  latter  paid  the  penally  of  his  adventure  with  his  life, 
and  was  found  in  the  den  literally  torn  into  shreds  by  the 
furious  bear.  The  fox  had  killed  one  of  the  cubs,  and  the 
old  bear,  hoping  to  lind  a  more  secure  place,  hail  gone  oil' 
with  the  two  remaining  cubs.  The  Indian  overlook  and 
slew  her.  and  captured  the  cubs. 

I *pon  another  occasion  he  was  not  so  fortunate.  \Ylsh 
ing  to  si-cure  the  large  price  olVered  by  the  oHicers  of  a 
garrison  town  fora  pair  of  live  cubs,  he  was  unceasing  ill 
his  endeavors  to  lind  a  den.  (  >ne  day.  when  accompanied 
by  his  little  son,  a  boy  of  ten,  he  discovered  unmistakable 
traces  of  a  bear's  den  near  the  top  of  a  hill  strewn  with 
granite  bowlders,  and  almost  impassable  from  the  num- 
ber of  fallen  pines.  One  old  pine  had  fallen  up-hill,  and 
its  upreared  roots,  with  the  soil  clinging'  to  them,  formed, 
with  a  very  large  rock,  a  triangular  space  into  which  the 
snow  had  drifted  to  a  depth  of  ten  or  twelve  feet. 

The  Indian  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  he  detected  the 
whining  of  bear  cubs.  By  taking  a  roundabout  way  he 
reached  a  place  on  a  level  with  the  bottom  of  the  bowlder, 
and  there  saw  the  tracks  of  an  old  bear  leading  directly 
into  the  centre  of  the  space  between  the  tree  root  and  the 
bowlder.  The  old  bear  in  her  comings  ard  goings  had 
tunnelled  a  passage  under  the  snow-drift,  (jetting  down 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  the  Indian,  with  his  knife  held 
between  his  teeth,  crept  bear  fashion  into  the  tunnel. 

After  entering  several  feet  he  found  the  usual  bear  de- 
vice— a  path  branching  off  in  two  directions.  'While 
pondering  what  to  do  under  such  circumstances  a,  warn- 
ing cry  came  from  his  little  son,  who  was  perched  on  the 
top  of  the  bowlder,  and  tin-  next  instant  the  old  bear  rush- 


ed into  the  tunnel,  and  came  into  \  iolcnl  contact  with  the 
Indian,  the  shock  causing  the  tunnel  to  cave  in. 

The  Indian,  after  dealing  the  bear  one  blow,  lost  his 
knife  in  the  snow,  and  sei/.ed  the  bear  with  his  hands;  but 
she  proved  too  strung  for  him.  and  was  the  lirsl  to  strug- 
gle out  of  the  drift,  when  unfortunately  she  me!  the  lit 
tie  Indian  box,  who  had  climbed  down  to  his  father's 
rescue.  He  received  a  tremendous  blow  on  the  thigh 
from  i  he  liear's  paw  as  she  passed,  which  crippled  him  for 
life. 

Four  days  afterward,  the  Indian,  determined  to  avenge 
the  injury  of  his  son  by  slaying  the  old  bear,  returned  to 
the  den,  and  discovered  her  lying  dead  upon. the  snow  in 
front  of  the  howlder:  his  one  blow  had  gone  home,  and 

tin-  ] r  creature  had  crawled  back  to  her  young  to  die. 

The  Indian  dug  away  the  snow,  and  found  the  cubs:  one 
was  dead,  and  the  others  died  before  he  could  reach  the 
camp. 


KITES. 

r.i    \.  w.  110111:1:  is 

OLD  sheets  and  old  shirts!       How    1    used   to  pester   my 
good    and    over  indulgent    mother    for  them  !      And 
didn't  they  make  splendid  kite  tail— so  long,  so  clean   and 

white!     And  the  gangs  of  "  kite  cutters"  and  "slingers," 

how  "big  brother"  used  to  "shake  'em  up"  and  bump 
their  heads  together  when  he  caught  them  after  my  kites! 
All  this  w  as  many  years  ago ;  and  \  el  I  can  make  as  good 
il  not  heller  kites  now  than  when  I  was  a  boy.  We  will 
see. 

Our    first    kite    will    lie    "mother's    kite"    for    "the    boy" 

i  Fig.  1).      This  kite  is  made  of  the  cm i   brown   straw 

paper  used  by  grocery  men. 
From  this  paper  a  good- 
si  y.ed  heart  is  cut  ;  the  pa- 
per is  then  .strengthen 
ed  with  numerous  broom 
whisks  or  splints,  which 
are  introduced  through 
small  holes  thai  are  made 
with  a  coarse  darning  nee- 
dle. For  a  tail  several 
t  hick  nesses  of  grocer  \  cord 
is  preferable,  and  for  the 
captive  cord  linen  thread 
mot  twine  or  cord  i  is  best. 
For  a  face  band  No.  I!  is 
mo-t  suitable. 

Fig.  '2  is  a  diamond  pin- 
wheel  kite.  The  frame  con- 
sists of  two  sticks  of  well-seasoned  white  pine;  the  shorter 
stick  crosses  the  long  upright  stick  at  right  angles,  and 
they  are  tied  together  where  they  cross  one  another.  The 
ends  of  the  sticks  contain  notches  in  which  the  frame 
cord  is  secured,  giving  to  the  kite  its  diamond  shape.  To 
this  kite  pin -wheels  of  stiff  paper  of  various  colors  are 
attached  as  shown  in  the  figure.  For  a  tail  strips  of  old 
sheeting  are  best.  Face-band  No.  3  is  used.  This  kite  is 
a  medium  high  llier,  but  does  not  behave  well  in  a  strong 
wind. 

Fig.  3  is  a  shamrock  or  Patsey  kite.  The  frame  (Fig. 
3,  A)  consists  of  an  upright  and  a  cross  stick;  the  three 
circles  which  form  the  outline  of  the  shamrock  leaf  are 
of  split  bamboo  or  split  rattan.  These  circles  are  bound 
together  and  to  the  frame  sticks  with  sewing  silk  or  strong 
linen  thread  as  shown  in  Fig.  3,  A.  It  is  best  after  the 
binding  is  completed  to  apply  hot  glue  to  the  parts:  this 
gives  greater  strength,  and  holds  the  binding  together. 
The  covering  of  this  kite  consists  of  emerald-green  tissue- 
paper,  which  is  veined  with  greenish-yellow  paint  to  give 
the  leaf  a  more  artistic  and  finished  look.  The  stem  of 
the  shamrock  is  formed  by  winding  green  paper  around 


Pie   i 


476 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIG.  2. 


the  prolonged  end  of  the 
upright  stick  of  the  frame. 
For  this  kite  face-band  No. 
1  is  used.  The  Patsey  kite 
is  a  low  flier,  and  rags  are 
the  proper  material  for  the 
tail. 

Fig.  4  is  a  Union  Shield 
kite,  and  consists  of  two 
slender  cross  sticks  and  a 
stouter  upright  stick.  The 
outline  of  this  kite  is  form- 
ed around  the  sticks  with 
curving  sections  of  split 
bamboo  or  rattan,  which 
are  bound  together  firmly 
with  silk,  and  secured  with 
glue.  The  staffs  for  the 
three  streamers  consist  of 
very  thin  splinters  of  bam- 
boo, which  are  fastened  in 
position  with  silk  to  the 
side  strips  of  bamboo  and 
to  the  upright  centre  stick. 
These  streamers  and  the 
covering  for  this  kite  consist  of  heavy  white  tissue-pa- 
per, on  which  the  Stars  and  Stripes  are  painted  with  water- 
colors.  Face-band  No.  5  is  used. 

Fig.  5  is  the  "  Evening- 
Star''  kite.  The  frame  is 
the  same  as  that  of  the 
diamond  pin -wheel  kite. 
When  the  frame  cord  is 
run  around  the  sticks  a 
diamond  kite  is  formed; 
but  by  using  four  short 
14  gathering -in  cords''  a 
star  kite  is  formed.  These 


FIG.  3. 

gather!  ng-in  cords  are  first 
fastened  by  their  ends  where 
the  sticks  cross  one  anoth- 
er; they  are  then  passed 
over  the  frame  cord  and  are 
drawn  tight,  and  the  re- 
maining ends  tied  in  the 

same  place  as  the  first.     By  this  means  the  frame  cord  is 

drawn   inward,  thus  changing  the  diamond  shape  of  the 

frame  cord  into  a  star  hav- 
ing one  long  and  three  short 

arms,  as  shown  in  Fig.  5. 
The   masses    of    slender 

rays  which  are   shown   in 

Fig.  5  spreading  out  from 

the  angles  formed  by  the 

gathering-ill  cords  consist 

of  numerous  and  very  slen- 
der splints  of  bamboo ;  these 

splints    are   first   glued   in 

radiating    positions    to     a 

piece   of  thin   card -board, 

which    is    known    as    the 

''  spreader"     (Fig.     5,    A). 

This  spreader  is  then  glued 

to     the     kite     where     the 

gathering  -  in    cords    form 

the  outer   (obtuse)   angles.  FIG.  4. 


FIG.  3.  A. 


FIG.  5. 


FIG.  5,  A. 

The  covering  of  this  kite 
is  of  light  blue  tissue-pa- 
per bespangled  with  gold- 
leaf.  The  bamboo  rays 
are  also  gilded  with  gold- 
leaf.  In  bright  sunlight 
the  effect  of  this  kite  is 
very  beautiful ;  it  is  a  medi- 
um high  ilicr.  Face-hand 

No.  3  is  used.  Fig.  6  is  a  combination  of  star  kite  and  a 
Greek  cross  (in  open-work).  This,  kite  is  much  the  same 
in  its  construction  as  the  evening-star  kite,  the  only  ditl'cr- 
ence  being  the  two  in- 
ner circles  of  split  bam- 
boo or  rattan  and  the 
open-work  Greek  cross. 
The  outer  and  largest 
circle  of  bamboo  is  se- 
curely fastened  in  four 
places  to  the  two  frame 
sticks,  and  to  this  cir- 
cle are  also  fastened  the 
gathering- in  cords  of 
the  star  portion  of  the 
kite.  All  that  part  of 
the  kite  which  is  con- 
tained within  the  arms 
of  the  star  and  the  out- 
er circle  is  covered  with 
light  blue  tissue-paper, 
which  is  bespangled  with 
silver-leaf.  The  small- 
er or  inner  circle  is  also 

fastened  to  the  sticks  of  the  kite  wherever  it  crosses  them. 
From  the  corners  of  the  angles  formed  by  the  crossing  of 
the  sticks  eight  strings  are 
fastened;  these  are  again 
fastened  to  the  inner  circle 
of  bamboo  at  equal  dis- 
tances so  as  to  form  the 
arms  of  the  Greek  cross. 
This  cross  is  covered  with 
brilliant  crimson  paper  be- 
spangled with  gold-leaf. 

When  coveringthe  cross 
the  paper  is  cut  a  quarter 
of  an  inch  larger  than  the 
actual  six.c  of  the  cross,  to 
allow  for  the  lapping  of 
the  paper  over  the  string 
and  inner  circle.  For  this 
kite  a  strong  wind  is  re- 
quired. 

In  the  group  of  face- 
bands  (Fig.  7)  the  letter  A 
stands  for  the  sticks  of  the 
kite,  and  the  dotted  line  B 
shows  where  the  captive 
cord  is  attached  to  the  face- 
band. 


Fie  i 


J/a.3. 


L   JhS. 


Fi:r.  7.— FACE-HANDS. 


MAY  29,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


477 


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SING -A 
50NG- 

OF-.SIXPENCE 


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To    MARTHA    GRASS. 


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m  i 


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HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CKXTREVII.I.K,  Mississrppr. 

The  exchange  proposed  by  Lillian  W.  in  a  let- 
ter which  appeared  in  No.  180  lias  called  I'orTli 
many  manifestations  of  interest  on  tin-  part  nf 
the  yoinii:  people.  Twenty-five  packages,  great 
and  small,  have  arrived  hi  excellent  condition, 
and  :is  many  white-winged  messengers  sweetly 
lailen  with  kind  words  of  sympathy  for  the  in- 
valid mother  in  her  little  woodland  prison,  "shut 
in"  from  the  beautiful  light  of  day. 

The  pretty  diversion  of  opening  and  looking 
over  the  beautiful  silks  has  refreshed  me,  while 
the  letters  have  rested  and  comforted  me  more 
than  I  can  tell  you.  If  in  a  dark  moment  I  should 
ever  he  tempted  to  say,  "This  is  a  cold  world, "my 
little  box  of  letters  will  rebuke  the  thought,  but 
I  must  ask  you  not  to  make  t lie  weight  of  obliga- 
tion too  great.  If  we  rind  it  impossible  to  send 
leaves  and  tea-flowers  to  all,  \vc  shall  take  ad- 
vantage of  the  thoughtfulness  of  friends  who 
have  said.  "  If  you  receive  many  packages,  do 
not  feel  under  obligations  to  me,  for  it  has  given 
me  pleasure  to  send  the  scraps." 

I  have  received  several  pretty  patterns  for  the 
little  brother's  quilt,  but  as  I  have  quite  a  number 
of  large  and  handsome  pieces,  I  shall  attempt 
one  of  large  blocks.  When  this  one  is  complete 
L.  will  assist  me  in  making  a  "crazy"  quilt.  Her 
many  friends  will  be  pleased  to  know  that  my 

little  nurse  and  housekeeper  has  begun  sel 1  in 

earnest,  sbe  will  write  a  letter  for  the  Post- 
office  lioX  si  ii  ill. 

The  little  brother  was  delighted  with  the  books 
sent  by  A.  W.  I  have  answered  some  of  the  let 
ters,  and  I  trust  the  kind  Postmistress  can  make 
room  in  her  delightful  department  for  this  gen- 
eral acknowledgment.  Yet  if  she  will  thank 
yon  in  her  own  graceful  way,  I  shall  be  pleased. 
Little  children  !  lio\v  my  heart  goes  out  to  them. 
It  is  the  privilege  of  only  a  few  to  know  just 
what  self  -  sacrificing  faithful  friends  they  are. 
one  must  be  dependent  upon  them  for  comfort, 
and  companionship  before  they  can  justly  ap- 
preciate their  real  worth.  L.  W.'s  MOTHER. 

1  told  you  last  week  that  I  thought  Miss  Lillie 
\V.  would  write  again,  and  here  is  something  bet 
ter.  Those  who  have  been  interested  in  the  lit- 
tle girl,  and  who  sent  their  packets  so  promptly 
on  reading  her  offer  to  exchange  pressed  flowers 
and  leaves  for  bits  of  silk,  will  be  rewarded  when 
they  sec  how  much  happiness  they  have  given 
.Mrs.  \\'.  only  by  reading  her  own  words  can 
you  iret  an  idea  of  the  brave  ami  eheerful  life  a 
sufferer  may  lead  shut  away  from  the  world  with- 
in four  walls.  Are  you  not  glad  that  through  the 
Post-office  Box,  and  the  little  daughter's  artless 
and  touching  letter,  a  bit  of  sunshine  has  found 
its  way  to  the  mother's  couch'?  As  I  read  her 
pencilled  lines  I  thought  of  a  favorite  stanza  by 
Keble : 

"Meek  souls  there  are  who  little  dream 
Their  daily  life  an  angel's  theme. 
Nor  that  the  rod  they  bear  so  calm 
In  heaven  may  be  a  martyr's  palm.1' 
Anil  will  you  not  try  to  be  brave  and  cheerful 
too  when  things  are  not  quite  as  you  wish  them 
to  be? 


cannot  give  more  pleasure  to  those  engaged  in  the 
same  pursuits  than  by  stating  what  articles  they 
have  been  able  to  obtain,  and  telling  in  which  pos- 
sessions they  take  most  pride.  As  for  those  brill- 
iant colors  in  stationery  I  -hall  be  sorry  it"  they 
ever  become  popular  among  my  young  corre- 
spondents. I  am  glad  you  wrote  to  me  on  pret- 
ty cream-tinted  paper.  When  I  receive  a  rose- 
hued,  or  shrimp  pink,  or  navy  bine  letter.  1  feel  a 
little  shiver  creeping  over  me  before  1  begin  to 
read  it.  Please  remember,  boys  and  girls,  that 
the  Postmistress  prefers  white  paper  and  black 
ink  from  her  contributors. 


BiFFALii,  >"EW  YORK. 

I  am  one  of  your  most  devoted  readers,  and  I 
heartily  enjoy  every  word  of  YOTNC  PEOPLE.  I 
am  fifteen  years  old.  and  attend  school.  On  Sat- 
urday I  take  a  painting  lesson.  I  have  no  vaca- 
tion at  all,  as  I  study  Latin  and  geometry  in  the 
summer. 

I  have  been  down  the  street  this  afternoon  pur- 
chasing stati ry.  I  buy  it  by  the  dozen  sheets. 

as  I  am  alwav-  in  the  style  that  way.  To-day  I 
got  crushed  strawberry,  shrimp  pink,  and  terra- 
cotta, all  ragged  edge.  I  have  very  tine  collec- 
tions of  autographs,  minerals,  corals,  advertising 
cards,  petrifactions,  coins,  and  shells.  My  corals 
arc  remarkably  tine.  I  have  one  very  beautiful 
specimen  of  brain  coral  that  I  have  been  offered 
lifty  dollars  for.  I  have  the  autographs  of  nianv 
distinguished  poets,  statesmen,  and  orators, 
among  them  those  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  Garfield, 
Killmore.  Hayes,  Grant,  aud  many  others— about 
two  thousand  in  all. 

My  petrifactions  are  very  curious.  One  frag- 
ment of  petrified  moss  with  leaves  underneath 
is  very  interesting.  The  veins  in  the  leaves  are 
so  distinct  that  you  can  at  once  disci  rn  the  vari- 
i  t\  My  papa  has  just  read  my  letter,  and  says 
it  is  egotistical.  If  so,  I  beg  forgiveness. 

CORISNE   S.  L. 

There  is  nothing  to  pardon,  dear,  in  what  your 
papa  calls  egotism  in  this  letter.  We  all  want  to 
know  about  each  other,  and  youthful  collectors 


NEW  YORK  Cm-. 

Mamma,  Lil,  Ted,  Buckle.  Baby,  and  I  all  live 
together  in  a  tiny  house  'way  up-town.  Mamma 
has  been  an  invalid  for  nearly  a  year,  and  as  we 
have  no  room  fora  servant.  I  keep  house.  I  th  >n't 
mind  sweeping  and  washing  dishes,  but  it  is  hard 
to  leave  school.  Nobody  that  has  not  little  lively 
brother-  knows  how  they  tear  their  clothe-.  .-,11, 1 
then  look  so  penitent  one  has  not  the  heart  to 
scold  them.  I  like  cooking  very  much,  and  would 
be  glad  if  I  might  join  the  Little  Housekeepers 
when  I  have  a  little  more  experience. 

I  wonder  if  the  children  have  seen  any  of  Pi- 
lot's skin?  It  is  nearly  an  inch  thiek.  \\*e  have. 
MEG  W.  (13  years  old). 

Pilot,  as  the  children  may  not  all  know,  was  an 
elephant  which  belonged  to  Mr.  Barnum,  and 
which  it  unfortunately  became  necessary  to  kill. 
A  girl  who  at  thirteen  is  actually  a  housekeeper, 
taking  charge  of  everything,  and  mending  the 
boys'  torn  jackets  and  troii-er<.  j-  entitled  to  an 
honorable  place  in  our  .Sociable,  isn't  she?  Nev- 
ermind about  having  to  leave  school,  Meg.  There 
are  more  schools  than  one.  and  yonr  home  life, 
with  its  opportunities  of  making  yonr  dear  ones 
happy,  is  doing  better  for  you  just  now  than  teach- 
ers or  text  1 ks  can.  And  your  turn  to  go  to 

the  school  you  love  may  come  again  by-and-by. 


I    I:->TIIN    PMIVT,  n\   T1IF    I  h  1>-o\,  NEW  YoRK. 

I  am  a  little  boy  seven  years  old.  I  live,  on  the 
Hudson  Uiver.  I  have  seven  little  boats— four 
are  -ml  boat*,  two  are  steamboats,  and  one  is  a 
row  -boat.  In  the  summer-time  I  go  out  in  a  big 
row-boat  with  papa  or  my  cousin  Willie,  and  sail 
them. 

My  sister  takes  HARPER'S  Torso  PEOPLE.  I  like 
"  Kaising  the  '  Pearl1  "  very  much.  I  am  the  trea- 
surer of  a  club.  My  sifter  and  three  cousins  be- 
longto  it.  We  publish  a  paper  called  The  Mtrry- 
(jK-Ro^iitl  every  month. 

This  is  my  first  letter,  and  I  hope  you  will  print 
it.  HARRY  L.  U. 

Won't  you  send  me  a  copy  of  'I'll,  Mi-rry-Go- 
lio'ntil,  Harry  '.'  1  would  like  to  see  it. 


I'IKF.  XF»-    Y.IRK. 

1  will  write  and  tell  you  about  my  kitten  lie 
is  black  and  white:  his  feet  are  white,  and  he 
has  a  black  spct  on  his  chin.  He  isn't  a  year  old 
yet.  but  he  is  a  splendid  mouser.  My  sisters  and 
I  caught  a  turtle,  and  named  him  Frank,  but  he 
fell  out  of  the  window  one  day.  and  went  home, 
we  suppose,  as  we  never  saw  him  again.  There 
are  a  pair  of  martins  that  build  their  ne-r-  in  our 
barn  every  year,  and  they  are  beginning  to  build 
again  this  spring:  they  are  quite  tame,  and  I  al- 
most caught  one  the"  other  day.  My  kitten's 
name  is  Jumbo.  We  have  a  dog  whose  name  is 
Jimmy.  We  had  t*\ro  cats  that  died,  and  they 
were  "named  Jock  and  Jolly.  I  should  like  to 
join  the  Housekeepers'  Sociable,  and  when  I  get 
a  good  receipt  I  will  send  it.  Good-by  until  I 
write  again.  ISABEL  S. 

Ask  mamma  to  give  you  a  nice  receipt  for 
breakfast  pancakes.  Some  of  the  Little  House- 
keepers want  one. 

i;r\\isov  CITY,  COLORADO. 

I  have  had  IlAr.t'f:r.'s  YOIM,  PEOPLE  ever  since 
it.  was  first  published,  and  I  like  to  read  it  very 
much.  I  like  "  Nan"  and  "  Mr.  Stubbs^  Brother" 
better  than  any  of  the  stories  that  have  been 
printed  yet.  I  am  ten  yeais  old.  I  live  on  a 
ranch  seven  miles  from  Gnnnison  city,  Colorado. 
We  like  it  here  because  we  have  plenty  of  cows 
and  horses.  There  is  a  creek  running  through 
our  ranch,  and  in  summer  it  is  full  of  beautiful 
trout.  There  has  been  good  skating  on  it  this 
winter.  1  hope  this  letter  is  not  too  long  to  print. 

GEOK<;E    A.  C. 

No,  indeed,  George.  It  might  have  been  longer. 
Do  you  help  take  care  of  the  cows,  and  have  you 
a  pony  of  your  own,  and  are  you  a  fisherman, 
coaxing  the  shining  trout  to  come  out  of  the 
creek  and  be  cooked  for  dinner!1 


WORCESTER,  MA-sAom-sETT*. 

I  am  a  boy  who  is  ten  years  old,  and  I  hope  you 
will  print  this  letter,  because  it  is  the  first  one  I 
ever  wrote.  I  have  a  very  big  cat  named  Tommy 
Grey,  find  every  time  when  he  wants  to  come  in 
he  rattles  the  door-knob  or  else  sneezes. 


I  go  to  Winslow  Street  school,  and  study  arith 
metic,  geography,  spelling,  music,  drawing,  lan- 
guage, and  writing.  I  like  the  story  of  "  1,'aising 
the  Ivarl'  "  very  much,  and  the  Jimmy  Brown 
stories  are  splendid.  I  sell  candy  at  the"  Worces- 
ter Technical  Institute,  and  lay  up  in  the  bank 
about  $1  50  a  week.  Some  evenings  I  sell  as  many 
as  twenty  dozen  sticks  of  candy.  II.  N.  p. 

What  famous  appetites  for  candy  the  fellows 

at  the  Institute  must  have  I 


HARTFORD,  CONVECTICI-T. 

I  am  going  to  write  you  a  letter  and  tell  you 
about  my  pets:  but  first  I  will  tell  you  where  I 
get  my  Torxii  PEOPLE.  I  have  an  "uncle  Cyrus 
in  Providence  who  takes  HARPER'S  MONTHLY, 
WEEKLY,  BAZAR,  and  Torso  PEOPLE,  and  after 
reading  the  last-named  he  sends  it  to  me.  Isn't 
he  kind '.' 

Now  I  will  tell  you  of  my  pets.  One  is  a  eat 
named  Crambo— a  queer  name,  isn't  it?  Anoth- 
er pet  is  a  turtle:  he  is  about  two  inches  long. 
Awhile  ago  I  put  him  in  mamma's  fernery,  and  he 
buried  himself  under  the  moss  :  but  now  he  is  in 
a  fish  globe  with  water  and  stones.  My  sister 
ha-  a  eaiiary-bird. 

I  am  eleven  years  old.  and  go  to  school  every 
day.  and  study  geography,  arithmetic,  spelling, 
drawing  and  writing,  language,  reading,  and  mu- 
sic. I  am  in  the  South  School  District,  which  is 
the  largest  in  the  city.  The  Capitol,  mar  w  hieh 
I  live,  is  a  very  beautiful  building.  It  is  built  of 
white  marble,  and  the  dome  is'gilded.  Above 
the  dome  i-  a  place  called  the  Lantern,  where 
those  who  choose  may  ^,t  and  have  a  view  of  the 
surround  ing  country  for  many  miles;  I  have  been 
ill'  several  times. 

If  you  are  pleased  with  this  letter,  and  would 
like  to  have  me  write  more  about  Hartford.  I  will 
do  so  some  time.  PERLEY  K.  W. 

I  am  always  pleased  to  hear  more  than  once 
from  my  boys. 


WHITRSBCRG,  ALABAMA. 

As  I  have  not  seen  a  letter  from  this  part  of 
the  country.  I  thought  1  would  write  one.  I  h.ue 
five  brothers  and  three  sisters.  We  live  on  the 
mountain  about  eleven  miles  from  any  railroad. 
"tt'e  have  a  lot  of  sheep  and  twenty-five  lambs.  I 
like  YorM;  PKOPI.F.  very  much.  We  began  taking 
it  at  the  new  year.  I  have  never  been  at  school, 
as  there  is  none  near  enough,  but  I  try  to  learn 
all  I  can  at  home.  WALTER  A.  H. 

Please  write  again.  Walter,  and  tell  us  more 
about  the  mountain  and  your  life  in  summer. 


\VIIITESIH-RIJ,  ALABAMA. 

I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers. 
We  have  eleven  to  do  for.  but  I  do  not  mind  the 
dish-washing.  I  have  a  sweet  little  pet  lamb; 
its  name  is  Bubby.  I  think  that  "  Nan"  is  the 
best  story. ami  Jimmy  Brown's  the  funniest  that 
I  ever  read.  I  have  a  nice  wax  doll.  I  have  never 
been  at  school,  because  we  live  too  far  from  any 
school  for  me  to  go.  Dear  Postmistress,  please 
print  my  first  letter.  Good-by.  SALUUA  G. 

I  think  Saluda  and  Walter  must  be  acquainted, 
as  their  letters  were  written  on  the  same  day. 
Would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  to  have  a  little  fam- 
ily or  neighborhood  class  tor  the  children  who 
live  so  remote  from  a  town,  and  ask  one  of  the 
young  lady  sisters  to  teach  it  ? 


COLKTA, ILLIVOTS. 

A  kind  friend  in  Chicago  has  sent  YOUNG  PEOPLE 

to  us  since  September.  ISM-,'.  We  are  all  glad  to 
see  your  paper,  my  two  sisters,  my  brother,  papa, 
mamma,  and  myself. 

We  have  no  pets  except  our  little  baby  sister, 
who  is  only  four  months  old.  Papa  has  a  wind- 
mill sixty  feet  hiirh.  with  which  he  grinds  and 
shells  corn  ;  the  wheel  is  thirty  feet  in  diameter. 
I  have  been  up  to  the  top  of  it  two  or  three  times, 
and  Arthur,  my  brother,  often  goes  up  to  oil  the 
machinery.  Arthur  often  grinds  Saturdays,  and 
sometimes  he  has  to  stay  out  of  school  when  papa 
goes  a\\  a  \ 

We  take  Tor NG  PEOPLE,  ••>'/.  -Y/VAo/'/*.  and  Youth's 
Companion. 

1  hope  this  will  be  printed.  AMT  A. 


I  live  in  San  Francisco,  but  during  the  summer 
month-  I  1:0  to  our  mountain  home  up  in  the 
Santa  Cruz  Mountains.  I  have  two  dogs:  their 
names  are  Dick  and  Sport.  I  set  traps  in  the 
woods  near  the-  house,  and  catch  quail.  There 
are  wild-eats  in  the  woods,  and  one  night  one  of 
them  smclled  the  fresh  meat  in  our  safe,  and  we 
heard  it  yell,  ami  were  awfully  frightened,  but, 
the  dogs  scared  it  off.  I  have  taken  HARITR'S 
TOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the  first  number.  W.  S.  D. 


CHATTANOOGA,  TENNKSSKE. 

My  brother  takes  your  paper,  and  I  like  to  read 
itverymuch.  I  am  ten  years  old.  I  want  to  tell 
you  about,  our  pets.  We  have  three  of  them — a 
bird  named  Hando,  a  cat  named  Fanny,  and  a 
large  dog  named  Don.  He  is  an  Irish  setter.  I 
want  to  tell  you  about  Don  playing  "  I-sny."  He 
plays  like  a  real  person.  He  will  put  his  front, 
paws  around  a  tree  and  shut  his  eyes,  and  Rob 


MAY   •_".»,  1883. 


IIAKI'KR'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


479 


lni\  br.it  hen  and  myself  run  and  hide,  and  when 
\\ .  a re  iii'l  \\  •  •  call  "  le-ail \  !"and  he  jumpsdown, 
and  he  -Mil  'Hi'  II  ''in-  tracks,  ami  timi-  MS  ami 
then  In-  looks  a!  ii'  right  lianl.  ami  then  lit-  run-; 
bact  ami  touches  tin-  base.  I  like  I"  read  1h-- 
letter-  111  tin'  p.,-1  office  Uox.and  I  like  I  In-  storj 
I.'.II-IHL:  tin-  '['earl'"  very  much  indeed.  I 
il.in'l  liiink  Captain  ~-aliimv  OUgfal  1"  I"'  -"  \cr> 
cr.i--  to  Tommy  Tucker.  NELL  II. 


I  '  tl-KII   I   .    \  I  \v     V..I-.K. 

I  am  a  little  girl  seven  >  ear-  old.  I  con  in 
going  to  school  last  September,  tint  ha  v  >•  h.el  t" 
slay  at  holm-  since  tin-  holidays,  as  I  have  ha. I 
tin-  whooping-cough.  I  ha\«-  two  dolls,  Emma 
an' I  I''-arl.  ami  a  ' -a Nary  I  call  Ned.  \vli. .  is  a  -vv  eel 
singer  My  mamma  reads  me  HAKI-I  i:"-  Vn  -,-. 
PEOPLE  everj  w  eek.  Mamma  is  writing  1  hi-  i  >  >r 
ni.-  I  granted  to  write  it  myseif.  Inn  -In-  was 
afraiil  you  could  not  read  it  yrry  well. 

HIM-,  I. "i  . 


si'lav.an  I  r  ,  I  Mir... 

I  am  eleven  years  old.     I  love  I..  go  I..  -d 1 

M.inmla  is  very  particular  about  \vhat  books  1 
read  I  think  that  Jinnny  Brown  i-  ju-t  ilread 
fill.  If  he  del'  .11  IT.  .1  I.,  our  family,  I  would  want 
t,,  have  him  stolen.  I  don't  think  his  family  has 
ood  g' ''.  eminent  over  him  We  \\oiild  not 
)la  ve  to  he  taken  upstairs  more  than  mice  Some- 
times I  think  the  paper  ought  to  lie  called  ll.\it- 
PEIt's  01  I'  !'i:o]-i  I  .  lor  aT  our  h.  .11-,-  the  big  folks 
sil  down  ami  read  it  lirst  When  I  can  eal.-h  the 

rstinan  I  take  tin-  paper  and  hide  it  ;  t  hen  I  have 
vv  hen  |  w  ant  it.  I.  u  it  *   C 


I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old  My  uncle  Hor- 
ace "-lids  m<  *i  .  i  -, .,  I't  oi'LE.  I  think  "  Nan"  was 
a  splendid  story.  I  saw  a  letter  not  Ion.;  ago 
from  a  lame  hoy  I  know  how  to  pity  him.  for  I 

have    heell    lame    myself  for   eight    \ear-         I    go    to 

a  ph\-iri.in  ill  \'-w  York.  He  sa\s  1  have  the 
hip  disease.  I  wear  one  splint  all  the  time,  hut  I 
can  walk  a  very  little 

Mv  papa  is  a  farmer,  and  I  make  a  pound  of 
hut  tcr  e  very  morning  :  he  gives  me  t  wo  cents  for 
ev.iv  pound.  I  went  do\\  !i  to  it!  y  grandma's  yes 
terda  v  to  .speml  the  day  she  In  es  about  a  qllar 
ter  of  a  mile  from  my  home.  I  am  piecing  a 

be  1 1    l|1lil!    ;     I    ha  V  e   I  Ilirt  \    t  hree   blocks  done         I    re 

ciie  my  lessons  to  my  mamma  every  day.     I  st  mly 

:,rei>^rapli>'.  a  rit  hmel  ie,  reai  I  im:.  writ  in^r,  ami  spell- 
ing. 1  tla\  e  t  Wo  lit!  le  si-ters  one  |.  illf  \  ears  old, 

and  tin   oilier  two.     They  are  full  of  fun. 

IIATT1L    1-'.   \V. 


I]  ,ST-    I  '.-!    VTV,    \.l\    , 

Ever  since  I  read  Rosalie  P.  's  letter  I've  thought 

I  would  like  t..  write  to  the  Posl  "tliee  |;,,\.  I 
was  very  much  interested  in  her  letter,  because 
at  t  he  t  ime  it  appeared.  1  had  to  wash  dishes  and 
do  all  sorls  of  house  work.  Kven  now  that  we 
ha\  .  a  servant  I  hav  e  to  do  a  great  .  I.  a  I 

I  am  sixteen,  and  a  clergyman's  daughter.  I 
{jive  my  brolhcr  and  little  sister  music-lessons. 
and  1  plav  1  he  .  irgan  in  our  church. 

\Vill  you  please  tell  me  which  you  think  the 
heiter  to  be,  an  accom]  ilisl  led  young  lady,  or  a 
cm  "1  housekeeper?' 

I  send  a  couple  of  receipts  for  the  Little  House- 
keepers : 

BATH  r.i  -,s     Work  half  a  pound  of  butter  into 

a  pound  of  Hour,  to  which  add  live  well  beaten 
eggs,  with  a  table  spoonful  of  yeast  :  mix  them 
with  a  little  warm  milk,  cover  tile  dough.  and 
put  it  in  a  warm  place  lo  rise  for  an  hour;  then 
mix  in  four  ounces  of  loaf-sugar.  ami  three  ounces 
of  caraway  condits,  and  strew  a  few  on  the  top 
of  each  bun  ;  hake  in  a  brisk  oven,  and  when  done 
brush  them  over  witli  milk  and  sugar. 

DELICATE  CAKE.  —  Beat  to  a  cream  seven  ounces 
of  sweet  butter:  beat  to  a  stiff  froth  the  whites 
of  eight  eggs.  and  mix  gradually  with  it  one  pound 
of  tine  white  sugar  ;  stir  in  the  eggs  one  pound  of 
flour  together  with  the  butter,  half  a  nutmeg, 
grated,  and  some  essence  of  lemon,  or  hitter 
almonds.  .  u-  rose  water.  Bake  in  a  pan  lined  with 
buttered  paper.  ANNIE  E. 

I  do  not  think  a  young  lady  can  be  called  ac- 
complished unless  she  understands  housekeep- 
ing thoroughly.  One  of  these  days  I  will  ha  \  e  a 
little  talk  with  you  all  on  the  subject.  Thanks 
for  your  receipts. 


I  am  a  little  boy  nearly  six  years  old.  I  have  a 
little  brother  named  Hruce,  who  has  a  little  dog 
named  Jet.  Jet  broke  his  leg.  but  he  got  well. 
I  have  a  little  friend  named  Margaret.  I  have 
two  more  little  brothers,  and  the  baby  is  so 
sweet,  I  call  him  "the  Fairy  Queen."  I  think 
the  Post-office  Box  is  the  nicest  thing  in  the  paper. 

ALEX  A. 


To  A  SI-BSCRIBER.— Will  the  New  York  lady 
who  recently  >.-nt  a  Itistri.-t  Telegraph  \l.s-,en- 
-er  boy  to  Me-srs  Harper  \'  Ill-others  to  buy  a 
bound  \oliime  ,.f  HAKPKU'S  Y.HN.,  PKOI-LK,  and 
subsequently  wrote  by  mail  to  rectify  a  sup>  >-e.l 
mi-take.  p|ea-e  send  her  name  and  addrev.  to 
M'  --is  Harper  A.  llroth,  i  - 


The  Postmistress  acknowledges  the  following 
favors  from  little  friends,  and  regrets  that  there 
is  not  room  to  publish  them  :  Lelia  S.  M.,  Herbert 
S.  K...Ionnio  II. .Tom  0..  Mary  I. .John  F.,  Edwin 


<  iiiiKiM,   I  nl;  Till-:  SICK. 

i.1  member,  dear  Little  Housekeepers,  that  when 

you  an-  , kin-;  I'm-  the  sick  you  must  take  the 

verv  -real,  -l  care  An  invalid's  appetite  must 
be  templed,  and  often  the  doctor  "ill  tell  you 
that  quite  a-  much  depends  upon  getting  '  | 

tii-iit  io  i, i,. e  nourishing  i I  as  upon  medicine. 

Always  serve  an  in\  alid's  meal  daintily,  on  the 
prettiest  china,  with  the  whitest  napkin,  and  the 
brightest  silver  in  the  house.  Make  the  little 
meal  look  like  a  picture  if  you  can.  How  verv 
happy  a  girl  or  boy  for  boys  an'  in\  ited  to  learn 
kery.  you  know  will  feel  if  th  •  toast  or  por- 
ridge in  "  :'nl  little  hand-  i-  eaten  with 
a  relish  |,j  the-  father  or  m<  a  her  who  is  ill. 
v-T. 

Not  one  person  in  a  thousand  knows  how  to 
make  good  l"  i  -l  Dhi  bread  should  mil  lie  to,, 

tl-esll          It    N||I  illld    be    clll     •  .1  II. Mil    Lr-  mil 

shape'.      The  ei-ii-l   edges  should  hi-  cut   ol)       Til. 

object  of  toasting  bread  is  to  extract  all  its  moist- 
ure. 1'resent  each  side  of  the  brea'l  I"  tin'  lire 
for  a  few  moments  I . .  /r,u  i,, .  \\  it  hot  it  attempting 
to  toa-l  it  ;  t  hen  t  urn  about  the  tirst  side  at  -.  ime 
distance  from  the  tin1,  so  that  it  may  slow 

evenly  reeei\ ,-  a  aoldi  ' lor  all  over  the  -:i 

\o\\   turn  i(   to  the  other  -ide.  moving  it    in  the 

same-  way  until  it  is  perfectly  toasted.     Tl ,als 

should  be  clear  and  hot       Serve  it  the-  n M  nl   it 

is  di  me, .  in  a  warm  pl.it, 

eoveiiKi)   BOOS. 

sail  the  water  well :  when  it  is  simmering  drop 
lightly  each  broken  egg  from  a  saucer  into  it. 
'  ne  egg  at  a  t  ime.  throw  ing  carefully  wit  h 

a  -| the  water  troin  the  side  over  II gg  to 

whiten  the   (op.     \\  hen  < ked    just  enoii-h  o|o 

not  let  it  L-'-I  t""  hard'  take  out  the  egg  with  a 
pi  rtofated  ladle,  trim  oft  the  ragged  piece-,  and 
slip  it  on  a  small  thin  piece  of  hot  buttered  toast 
cut  neatly  into  squares.  When  all  are  cooked. 
and  plai-ed  on  t  heir  separate  pieces  of  toast .  sprin 
kle  a  little  pepper  and  salt  over  each  one. 
RICK  fi  DOING. 

This  receipt  makes  oi I'  the  plainest  and  best. 

puddings  overeaten.    It  Is  a  success  where  every 

grain  of  rice  seems  lying  in  a  en  am\  be'l 

Ingredients  :    One    enpMll    of   boiled    ri better 

if  just  ( ked  ami  still  hot  i,  three  cupfuls  of  milk, 

iiin  e  quarters  of  a  cupful  of  sugar,  a  table-spoon 

tul  1 1 1  e.  i  r  11  starch,  two  eggs  :  add  flavoring. 

Dissolve  tin rn  starch  first  with  a  little  milk, 

and  then  stir  in  the  remainder  of  the  milk  :  add 
the  volks  of  the  eggs  and  the  sugar  beaten  to- 
gether Now  put  this  over  the  fire  .there  is  less 

risk  of  burning  in  a  cu-lald  kettleK  and  when 
hot  add  the  hot  rice-.  It  will  seem  as  if  there 
was  I  oo  much  milk  for  the  rice,  but  there  is  not. 
stir  it  carefully  until  it  begins  to  thicken  like 
boiled  custard  :  then  take  it  off  tin-  fire,  and  add 
the  flavoring,  say.  extract  of  lemon.  Put  it  into 
a  ]. udding  dish,  and  place  it  in  the  oven.  Now 
beat  the  whites  of  the  eggs  to  a  stiff  froth,  and 
add  a  little  sugar  and  flavoring.  Take  the  pud- 
ding from  the  oven  when  colored  a  little,  spread 
the  froth  over  the  top.  and  return  it  to  the  oven 
for  a  few  minutes  to  give  the  froth  a  delicate  col- 
oring. 

RICE  CUNTS. 

Mould  boiled  rice. when  hot.  in  cups  which  have 
been  previously  dipped  in  cold  water ;  when  cold, 
turn  them  out  on  aflat  dish,  arranging  them  uni- 
formly: then  with  a  tea-spoon  scoop  out  a  little 
of  the  rice  from  the  top  of  each  cone,  and  put  in 
its  place  any  kind  of  jelly.  For  a  change,  it  is 
well  to  boil  a  stick  of  cinnamon  in  the  rice  to  fla- 
vor it. 

In  preparing  a  meal  for  mamma  or  auntie,  who 
is  ill,  it  is  best  not  to  take  her  too  much  at  once.  A 
table-spoonful  of  the  rice  pudding  on  a  thin  saucer 
will  be  quite  enough  ;  do  not  show  her  the  whole 
pudding.  Never  ask  an  invalid  what  she  would 
like  if  you  can  help  it,  but  try  to  give  her  a  little 
surprise  at  each  meal.  Be  very  gentle  in  your 
movements  in  a  sick-room.  Wear  a  dress  that 
does  not  rustle,  and  shoes  that  do  not  squeak. 


I..  H'..  Mat tii-  I..  I)..  I.ily  \V.  *..  r.  (.  M..  (,.,.r.i 
II..  Io  I,  n  v..  Marian  I...  Miriam  M.  «.,  Niisi,-  II.. 
Allii-rt  H..  Irma  I  ..  Arthur  T..  Jalii-lte  Jl.  (  .,  Mar- 
inn,  and  Mar.  A.  (  .  T.  :  Exchanges  are  r 
without  charge-.  —  Walter  A.  Sliiiemaki'r.  Sarato- 
ga. Ilakota.  owing  to  recent  irregularities  in  the 
mails  near  hi-  home,  ha-  l-en  unable  to  -end 
specimens  in  return  for  articles  received  by  him 
as  promptly  as  he  wished  to.  He  hope*  before 
long,  however,  to  satisfy  all  exchangers  with 
whom  he  lias  had  corre-pondcnce. 


and  avoid  both  whispering  and  loud  talking. 
which  disturb  weak  nerves.  Try  to  look  . 
fill,  even  though  you  feel  anxious.  Your  dear 
ones  are  in  (Jod's  care,  and  if  the,  doctor,  the 
nurse,  and  all  the-  kind  friends  are  doing  what 
they  can.  you  must  alwav-  hope  and  expect  that, 
the  invalid  w  ill  soon  get  well. 


TTZZI.ES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

FIVK    KVsV    vvimn    sol-Anns. 

1.— 1.  A  very  small  quantity.     '.'.Past.     8.  A  shel- 
ter.    4.  Trades.  E.  NmiiA. 

1    Costly.     -.'    lii -pose.     3.  A  continent.     4. 
Behind. 

:).— 1.  Tight.     U.  A  plant.     :',.  To  sell.     I    \lm\'s 
nickname.  (.1  OKOE    \.  L. 

4.— 1.  A  domestic,  animal.    •-'.  A  number.    3.  A 

T'      1     \  conveyance.     '-'.  A  verb      :{.  A  color. 

i).  i-:.  .M..  JI-N. 
N.I.  •-'. 

Nt   MKKll  At.    EMC.MA. 

Fifteen  letters  then"  are  in  me. 

\nd  if  v  on  heed  me.  wise  you'll  be. 
My  I'.'.  1 1,  t;  is  a  weight. 
Mv  8,  I.  ''.  I  is  a  way  of  cooking. 

M  *     '    1 1.  S  is  an  insect . 

Mv  t::.  in.  r.  i-  a  boj  -  nickname. 

'i      :.  ;.  '.I  is  to  plant.  JA>  K. 


My 
My 

Mv 
Mv 
My 

Mv 

My 

Mv 

MS- 


NO.  3. 

KMIi  MA. 

tirsl  is  in  have,  but  not  in  hold, 
second  is  in  mind,  but  not  in  mould. 
third  is  in  corn,  but  not  in  wheat 
li  inrl  h  is  in  heart .  and  als,  i  in  beat . 
fifth  is  in  young,  but  not  in  small. 
sixth  is  in  cry.  but  not  in  bavv  1 
-i  v  i  nt  h  is  in  hire,  but  not  in  own. 
eighth  is  in  sad.  but  not  in  lone, 
vv  hi  ile  is  the  name  of  a  great  (,Jlleen. 


No.     I. 
flKOIMIAmicAI.    ACHOSTIC. 

My  lirst  is  a  Territory  of  th,-  I  nited  states. 

My  second  is  a  range  of  mountains  in  Euro]>e. 

Mv  third  is  a  river  in  Kastern  Kill-ope. 

My  fourth  is  one  of  the  Western  States. 

My  tilth  is  a  sea  ill  Western  Asia. 

My  sixth  is  a  city  in  I-airope. 

My  seventh  is  a  river  in  Asia. 

My  eighth  is  a  lake  in  Africa. 

My  ninth  is  a  race  of  people. 

M  v  tenth  is  a  -ea  side  resort. 

My  eleventh  is  a  river  in  Asia. 

My  t  wclfth  is  an  island  in  the  south  of  Europe. 

My  thirteenth  is  a  range  of  mountains  in  \S  est 
-  i  n    v-ia. 

My  fourteenth  is  a  group  of  islands  north  of 
Scotland. 

M  v  litteenth  is  a  country  in  Africa. 

My  sixteenth  is  a  river  in  Central  Europe. 

W.  O.  H. 

ANSWERS  TO   IT/ZLES  IN  No.  1M. 

No.  1.  S  weden. 

P  ortugal. 
A  rabia.  ' 
I  taly. 
N  orway. 

No.','.        P  T  RATES 
T  I  RED 
BED 
A 


No.  3. 


BAKE 
ARAB 

K   A   T   E 
E   B   E  N 
N,  i.  I.  Thronateeska. 

Seek.    Horn.    Trot.    Hat.    Throat.    Ant. 

"The  Cruise  of  the  '  (Jhosf  '  " 
Toss.    Hit.    Crust.    Hot.    Fig.    Cheese.    Ho. 
N.).  a.  Violin. 

No.  0.  P 

PIE 

PIANO 

E    N    D 

O 


Correcf  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Louisa  Morel,  John  Figgers,  Lilie  M..  Little 
Somebody,  Louis  How,  Bertie  K.  Rees.  W.  O.  Har- 
per, Walter  Moirell,  Herbert  Keifer,  Edgar  See- 
man,  clarence  Miles.  Edith  and  Millie  Kendall. 
Mabel  I:,  canon.  Carlie  T.  Tucker,  George  and 
John  Winthrop  Jennings.  E.  C.  Dietz,  Theo  and 
Kitty  Romaine,  Sharlie  Windom,  Caspar  H..  Jen- 
nie C.  McBride,  Andrew  Thomson.  Tailor-Bird, 
Harry  H.  Rotner,  Victor  Vincent,  Florence  Will- 
iams. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


480 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SHOWER    PUZZLE. 

Describe  No.  1  with  seven  letters  arranged  into  one  or  more  words. 
Take  away  one  letter,  and  describe  No.  2'with  the  remaining  six,  and 
so  on  until  only  one  letter  remains. 


LAUGHTER  GAMES.* 

E  is  a  whole  class  of  games  of  wliie.h  the  object  is  to 
_  excite  to  laughter  by  means  of  some  ridiculous  action. 

Such  games  are  sometimes  played  with  a  lighted  candle.  The 
players  approach  each  other  from  opposite  sides  of  the  room,  and 
sustain  a  dialogue  in  solemn  tones,  while  they  must  keep  a  grave 
countenance,  on  penalty  of  paving  forfeit.  For  example  : 

"The  King  of  Turkey  is  dead."  "What  did  he  die  of.'" 
"Doiug  so"  (some  ridiculous  gesture). 

*  From  dinars  inn!  SIIHI/X  nf  .  I  in,  i-irini  <  'liililren.  Collected  and  Com- 
pared by  WILLIAM  WKLLS  XEWELL.  Published  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


A  more  characteristic  version  (in  Nantucket,  Massachusetts) 
had  it,  "The  royal  Russian  Princess  Hnsty  Fusty  is  dead." 
To  which  it  was  necessary  to  answer,  soberly  :  '•  I'm  very  .sorry 
to  hear  it.  Even  the  cats  bewail  her  loss." 

A  game  which  was  formerly  popular  with  children  in  Mas- 
sachusetts was  to  lean  a  stall'  in  the  corner,  while  a  player 
was  seated  in  the  centre  of  the  ring.  Another  child  now 
entered,  took  up  the  staff,  approached  and  addressed  the  one 
sitting,  and  a  rhymed  dialogue  ensued : 

"  My  father  sent  me  here  with  a  staff, 
To  speak  to  yovi,  and  not  to  laugh." 
"Methmks  you  smile."     "Methmks  I  don't. 
I  smooth  my  face  with  ease  and  grace, 
And  set  my  staff  in  its  proper  place." 

If  the  staff-bearer  laughed,  he  or  she  must  take  the  chair, 
otherwise  the  next  player  continued  the  game. 

A  third  amusement  is  for  girls  to  excite  one  another  to 
laugh  by  gently  pinching  in  succession  the  ears,  nose,  lips, 
etc.,  while  making  use  of  some  ridiculous  expression. 

In  a  Swiss  game  this  performance  is  complicated  by  a  jest. 
Each  child  pinches  his  neighbor's  car,  but  by  agreement  the 
players  blacken  their  lingers,  keeping  two  of  the  party  in  ig- 
norance. Each  of  the  two  victims  imagines  it  to  be  the  other 
who  is  the  object  of  the  uproarious  mirth  of  the  company. 


A  MALTESE  CAT. 

BY  EVA   LOVETT  CARSuN. 

WHEN  papa  came  home  the  other  night 
He  held  the  lid  of  a  basket  tight. 
"Now,  children,"  he  said,  "guess  that." 
And  when  they  guessed  everything  but  right. 
He  lifted  it  just  a  little  mite, 
And  showed  them  a  .Maltese  cat. 

"And  now,"  said  papa.,  "though  puss  likes  fun, 
Yet,  if  you  torment  him.  of  course  he'll  run. 

Don't  love  him  too  hard  and  squeeze  him." 
"Why,  papa,"  cried  Ned,  in  surprise  at  that, 
"  I  thought  they  called  it  a  Maltcxc  cat, 

Just  so's  you  could  maul  him  and  tcaxc  him." 


...-    ^        rwm 
^^ 


TlIItEE. 


FOUR. 


FIVE. 


Six.  SEVEN. 

AN    INTERRUPTED    LESSON— IN    EIGHT    SCION  MS. 


EIGHT. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


1 .11  Mil  11111 ....ll.llllll ......I... .  ...i..n.iiii........yi 


jfn 

AN 

ILLUSTRATED 

"                                          "  r  i  iTF" 

\ 

;WEEKLY.a 

JJ  1  1  1                  u 

VOL.  1V.-NO.  188. 


PUBLISHED  i:v  IIAUI'KK  A:  BEOTHEES,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  June  5, 1883. 


Copyright,  H?3,  by  HABFKR  4  BBOTUXBS. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE  PET  OF  THE  REGIMENT. 

BY  E.  M.  TRAQUAIR. 

4  ND  so  you  young1  folks  want  a  story,  do  you — a  story 
-L\.  about  the  war,  eh  ">.     Well,  children,  you  shall  have 


it.  Story-telling'  is  all  old 
I'nele  Karl,  with  his  wooden 
leg-,  is  good  for  nowadays. 

Twelve  years  ago,  when 
the  last  great  war  broke  out 
MO  me  it  seems  like  yrsier 
day,  and  yet  three  of  \  mi 
were  not  born  then),  all 
(  iermany  was  in  a  state 
of  the  wildest  excitement. 
There  were  many  old  peo- 
ple' still  living-  who  remem- 
bered the  former  great  Na- 
poleonic wars,  and  the  ter- 
rible times  when  the  French 
overran  the  country.  Who 
could  foresee  whether  these 
times  would  not  return? 
The  army  was  got  into 
marching  order ;  the  wo- 
men worked  night  and  day 
to  get  their  husbands'  and 
brothers'  kits  ready  in  time, 
and  the  children  paraded 
tlie  streets  singing  "The 
Watch  on  the  Rhine." 

My  regiment  was  among 
the   first   to   be   ordered    to 
France.    Arrangements  for 
tlie  start  were  made  as  rap- 
idly as  possible.    When  we  were  all  packed  into  the  cars, 
and  the  train,  amid  the  sobs  of  the  women  and  the  hur- 
rahs of  the  men,  began  to  move  slowly  out  of  the  station,  • 
a  boy  of  about  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  a  bright- 
eyed,  rosy-cheeked   rogue,  sprang  with   a  cat-like  elas- 
ticity into  the  car  where  I  was  standing. 

He  landed  almost  in  my  arms.  It  was  contrary  to 
all  rule  to  take  him  with  us,  but  my  heart  was  sore  at 
leaving  home,  and  I  felt  almost  as  if  he  had  been  sent  to 
me.  I  took  a  fancy  to  the  boy  at  first  sight,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  the  railway  guards  said,  I  succeeded  in  keeping 
him  with  me,  and  consequently  with  the  regiment. 

He  was  now  one  of  "ours,"  and  shared  all  our  dangers, 
privations,  and  heavy  marches.  He  ran  errands  for  us, 
laid  our  dinners,  lit  the  bivouac  fires.  He  was  very  un- 
selfish and  kind-hearted,  and  endeared  himself  so  much  to 
the  rough  soldiers  that  lie  was  soon  the  acknowledged 
"pet  of  the  regiment."  He  never  seemed  to  feel  fatigue. 
After  a  long  day's  march  I  have  seen  him  run  hither  and 
thither,  fetch  water,  kindle  fire,  or  spread  his  cloak  over 


482 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


some  tired  soldier,  chatting  merrily  all  the  while.  He 
seemed  a  little  cobold,  capable  of  being  in  two  places  at 
once. 

When  the  hard  fighting  began,  and  hardship  and  priva- 
tion increased,  we  wanted  to  send  the  little  fellow  back  to 
Germany.  But  he  himself  would  not  hear  of  it.  "  If  I 
am  too  small  to  fight  for  my  country  myself,"  he  used  to 
say,  "I  can  at  least  help  those  who  do.  When  we  have 
beaten  the  French  and  taught  them  to  mind  their  own 
business,  I'll  go  back  with  you,  not  before.  And  then: 

".'  Hey,  boys,  liey  ! 
Maivli  and  away 
To  the  hind  of  the  oaks  again.' " 

Well,  it  so  came  about  that  we  were  quartered  in  a 
French  village.  This  was  after  the  first  great  battle  of 
Worth,  when  we  succeeded  in  driving  the  enemy  from  our 
frontiers.  The  inhabitants  had  already  fled,  all,  at  least, 
except  a  few  old  people  who  seemed  too  indifferent  to  take 
the  trouble  of  bestirring  themselves.  Suddenly  we  re- 
ceived orders  fBoni  head-quarters  to  send  every  one  out  of 
the  village. 

This  seemingly  cruel  command  was  given  with  the  in- 
tention of  protecting  the  poor  old  creatures,  as,  in  case  we 
should  have  to  retreat,  the  place  would  be  fired  in  order 
to  hinder  the  enemy  from  making  it  a  point  of  vantage 
against  us.  A  beacon  pole  was  erected  behind  the  village, 
and  a  heavy  battery  had  orders  to  play  on  the  devoted 
place,  and  lay  it  in  ashes,  as  soon  as  the  signal  should  be 
given  by  lighting  this  pole. 

This  was  in  the  afternoon.  Toward  evening  a  detach- 
ment of  troops  entered  the  village  noiselessly.  Fritz  was 
with  them.  The  captain  had  strict  orders  to  search  the 
village  from  house  to  house  to  make  sure  that  every  one 
had  left  it,  and  that  nothing  of  value  was  destroyed.  I 
went  with  him  in  his  rounds. 

We  came  to  a  substantial  two-storied  house,  in  the  up- 
per window  of  which  a  faint  light  was  burning.  We 
went  in,  groped  our  way  up  a  dark  staircase,  and  entered 
a  large  room  heaped  up  with  all  sorts  of  articles.  In  their 
midst  sat  an  old  woman  with  a  hard,  wrinkled  face,  star- 
ing fixedly  at  the  wall. 

"Woman,"  I  cried,  "  why  are  you  sitting  here  ?  Have 
you  not  heard  the  order  to  quit  the  village  ?" 

"What  do  I  care  for  your  orders '."she  replied,  in  a 
harsh,  deep  voice.  "This  is  my  own  house,  and  I  mean 
to  stay  in  it." 

"But  the  place  is  going  to  be  fired,  and  you  will  be 
buried  under  the  ruins.  It  is  to  save  your  life  that  we 
have  come,  and  if  you  won't  listen  to  reason  and  go  of 
your  own  accord,  we  must  try  force." 

"Just  try  it,"  cried  the  strange  creature.  "Turn  me 
out  of  my  own  house  like  a  dog  if  you  will;  I'll  return 
to  it  when  you  are  gone.  Kill  me  if  you  like,  but  I  shall 
stay." 

I  saw  there  was  no  use  in  saying  anything  more  to  her, 
and  I  had  no  time  for  it,  besides.  There  was  little  chance 
of  the  bombardment  taking  place  till  morning,  so  she  was 
safe  till  then.  We  returned,  leaving  all  quiet. 

About  half  an  hour  later  Fritz  entered  the  guard-room. 
He  planted  himself  right  in  front  of  me  with  a  sort  of 
half-embarrassed  air. 

"Well,  Fritz,"  I  said,  "and  so  you  are  not  sleeping 
yet  i  What  is  the  matter,  my  boy  ?" 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter,"  he  said;  "only  Louis  is 
here,  and  I  can't  make  out  what  he  wants." 

Louis  was  a  pretty  slender  boy  of  about  Fritz's  age,  only 
not  so  strong.  He  was  no  stranger  to  us,  as  he  belonged 
to  a  neighboring  village  where  we  had  been  in  quarters 
shortly  before.  I  sent  for  him  at  once. 

"Why  are  you  here,  Louis?"  I  said,  when  he  was 
brought  in.  "  Boys  like  you  ought  to  be  in  bed,  and  not 
in  dangerous  places  like  this!" 


"My  grandmother  is  here  in  the  village  all  alone,"  he 
said,  frankly.  "  I've  come  to  fetch  her!" 

"Your  grandmother!"  said  I.  "Is  that  the  old  lady 
in  the  house  yonder  with  the  two  lime-trees  before  the 
door  ?" 

"  Yes,  that  is  her  house." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  your  trouble  for  nothing,  I  can  tell 
you.  She  told  me  that  nothing  should  make  her  leave 
the  house." 

"  I  shall  try,  at  any  rate.  My  mother  will  be  very  un- 
happy should  any  tiling  happen  to  grandmother." 

I  took  the  boy  to  his  grandmother's  house.  Louis  told 
me,  as  we  went  along,  that  she  was  a  strange  old  woman, 
by  no  means  poor,  but  that  she  had  quarrelled  with  all 
her  family,  and  for  years  had  not  entered  his  parents' 
house.  His  mother  had  often  taken  him  to  see  her,  but 
he  noticed  that  she  had  a  strong  dislike  to  his  father. 

WTe  reached  the  house.  Light  was  still  glimmering  in 
the  upper  room,  and  the  door  was  open.  As  soon,  how- 
ever, as  we  began  to  mount  the  dark  stairs  I  heard  the 
sound  of  a  key  being  turned  in  the  lock.  The  old  woman 
had  locked  the  door  in  our  faces. 

Louis  implored  her  to  let  him  in,  saying  he  had  a  mes- 
sage to  her  from  his  mother.  On  hearing  this  she  opened 
the  door. 

"You  have  come  to  fetch  me,"  she  said,  with  a  soften- 
ed look.  "You  have  taken  a  deal  of  trouble  to  no  pur- 
pose, as  I  mean  to  stay  where  I  am." 

"You  surely  don't  mean  to  stay  till  the  Prussians  shoot 
your  house  down  about  your  ears 

"Why  not?  The  Prussians  have  beaten  our  armies, 
and  the  cowards  have  fled.  But  I.  a  poor  old  woman, 
mean  to  defy  them.  Let  them  beat  down  my  house  if 
they  like.  It  is  my  own.  Here  I  am,  and  here  I  mean  to 
stay." 

"In  that  case  I  shall  stay  too,"  said  the  boy,  decid- 
edly. 

"You!"  said  the  old  woman,  wonderingly,  her  hard 
features  assuming  a  softer  expression.  "You  are  too 
young  to  be  food  for  powder.  Go  home  to  your  mother." 

"Not  without  you,  grandmother."  said  the  boy. 

Her  face,  became  almost  tender.  "  Take  the  boy  away," 
she  said,  turning  to  me.  "He  could  almost  persuade  me 
against  my  will." 

"He'll  not  go  unless  you  go,  I  can  see  that,"  said  I. 
"So  you  had  better  leave  the  place  with  him,  if  you  do 
not  wisli  him  to  be  killed." 

"  Is  it  true,  then,  that  the  village  is  to  be  destroyed  '." 

"The  order  for  it  may  be  given  any  minute.'1 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  go,  but  not  till  morning.  You 
can  stay  here,  Louis.  There  is  room  enough  for  us  both. 
But  what  am  I  to  do  with  my  things  ?" 

I  advised  her  to  make  up  all  her  most  valuable  things 
in  a  bundle,  and  let  her  grandson  carry  it.  Then  I  im- 
pressed on  Louis  the  necessity  of  being  oft'  at  as  early  an 
hour  as  possible  next  morning.  As  I  left  the  room,  I 
heard  the  key  turning  again  in  the  lock. 

We  noticed  by  various  signs  in  the  enemy's  camp  that 
there  was  something  brewing  against  us.  What  it  was 
we  could  not  tell.  One  thing  only  was  certain,  and  that 
was  action  on  the  morrow. 

When  the  sun  rose  there  was  a  thick  gray  mist  over 
everything.  When  it  cleared  away,  the  French  came  to- 
ward us  with  wild  hurrahs  to  storm  our  position. 

We  were  prepared  for  them.  We  let  them  come  on 
half-way,  and  then  let  off  a  salvo  so  well  aimed  that  they 
stopped,  and  threw  themselves  into  a  trench,  from  whence 
they  rained  bullets  on  us. 

We  were  too  well  covered,  however,  to  suffer  much. 
But  their  attack  on  our  left  wing  was  more  fortunate. 
After  a  short,  gallant  defense,  overpowered  by  numbers, 
it  was  obliged  to  retreat.  The  danger  now  became  great 
Tor  us,  as  the  enemy  crowded  more  and  more  to  the 


,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


483 


front.  The  word  was  given  for  a  general  retreat.  Whilst 
our  little  detachment,  lighting  and  taking  advantage  of 

every  cover,  withdrew  slowly  from  the  village.  I  went. 
accompanied  l>y  a  sergeant,  to  the  beacon  pole.  My  or- 
ders were  to  light  it  the  moment  the  village  .should  be 
free  from  our  people. 

Just  at  this  moment  Fritz  came  running1  up  to  say  that 
Louis  and  his  grandmother,  whom  I  believed  to  be  already 
far  aw  a  \  .  u  ere  Mill  in  the  village. 

"Run  and  see."  1  said  to  the  good  little  fellow.  "If 
they  are  really  still  there,  send  them  oil'  instantly.  They 
are  lost  else." 

\Ve  could  easily  see  the  old  woman's  house  from  where 
we  were  standing.  Frit/,  ran  swift  as  a  young  deer  across 
the  open  Held,  over  which  the  enemy,  now  rapidly  ap- 
proach in.LT.  were  sowing  bullets  plentifully. 

Our  situation  was  growing  more  critical  with  every  mo- 
ment. In  spile  of  the  attenti 'eiiuired  I'm-  the  enemy's 

movements.  1  could  not  help  looking  uneasily  toward  the 
house  into  which  Frit/,  had  disappeared. 

He  came  out  at  last,  but  alone!  His  usual  merry 
smile  was  changed  into  a  look  of  fear  and  an\ict\  as  he 
rushed  up  to  us,  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice 

"An  axe!  an  axe!  The  lock  is  hampered.  They  can't 
get  out." 

line  of  the  soldiers  in  the  trench  started  forward, 
threw  him  an  axe.  and,  quick  as  thought,  returned  tip  his 
post.  'I'll,,  brave  boy  cau'j'ht  it  Up,  and.  heavy  as  it  ua-.. 

darted  oil'  with  it  across  the  dangerous  path  for  the 
time. 

"Quick.  Krit/.,  quick!"  1  called  after  him.  "In  two 
minutes  the  beacon  must  be  lit." 

.My  reminder  was  unnecessary.  Anxiety  for  the  pris 
oners,  and  more  especially  for  his  playmate,  added  wings 
to  his  feet.  I  was  getting  very  anxious  about  all  three. 

but  more  especially  about    my  own   gallant    ho\.      Tin 

lives  hung  from  a  thread.  The  heavy  battery  on  the 
heights  beyond  was  only  waiting"  for  the  signal  to  open 
its  terrible  lire  on  I  he  cl>-\  ole.l  village. 

The  enemy,  who  had  been  comparatively  quiet  for  a 
little,  now  be  frail  to  advance  again.  Some  of  m\  people 
still  held  the  last  solitary  bouse  in  the  village  It  was 
high  time  to  call  them  back.  When  this  \\as  done  the 
moment  was  conn1  to  light  the  beacon,  and  Frit/  was  still 
in  the  fatal  house. 

I'sed  as  1  was  to  the  horrors  of  war.  it  was  a  terrible 
moment,  for  me.  The  sergeant  stood  beside  me  waiting 
my  orders.  I  hesitated  for  one.  minute  before  saying  the 
\\ord  which  would  be  equal  to  a  sentence  of  death  for 
t  bree  innocent,  beings,  in  no  way  connected  \\  il  b  I  lie  great 
quarrel  now  being  fought  out  between  two  nations. 

"Light  the  beacon  at  once!"  called  the  colonel,  gallop- 
ing up  at  this  moment. 

"God  help  them  !"  thought  I.  with  a  shudder. 

The  tlam.es  licked  the  straw-clad  pole.  Almost  imme- 
diately after,  a  report  from  the  battery  guns  seemed  to 
crash  into  my  very  brain.  The  great  balls  hissed  over 
our  heads, 'and  fell  crashing  on  the  roofs  of  the  village 
houses,  already  beginning  to  till  with  the  enemy.  Every 
shot  told  ;  but  the  house  oil  which  all  our  looks  were  fast- 
ened was  still  untouched. 

Still  Fritz  did  not  appear.  A  second  salvo  was  given 
as  destructive  as  the  first.  The  next  house  but  one  was 
hit.  From  its  shattered  roof  arose  clouds  of  dust  and 
smoke.  Still  the  walls  that  sheltered  those  three  were 
spared. 

"  Where  is  Fritz  ?     He's  lost !"  sounded  on  all  sides. 

' '  No— there  he  is !  He's  saved !  Thank  God  !  Bravo, 
Fritz!" 

There  he  was  indeed.  He  had  just  stepped  out  of  the 
house.  Close  behind  him  came  the  two  whom  his  heroic 
courage  had  saved  from  certain  death. 

Oil  he  came,  nodding  to  us  and  smiling.     They  were 


scarcely  six  paces  from  the  house  when  the  terrible  shot 
reached  it  also  and  levelled  it  with  the  ground. 

But  the  three  fugitives  were  by  no  means  yet  out  of  the 
reach  of  danger.  I!ullets  were  raining  on  all  sides  of 
them.  The  space  they  were  crossing  was  completely  1111- 
protected.  Fritz,  careless  about  himself,  showed  himself 
most  eagerly  desirous  of  getting  his  protegees  as  quickly 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  bullets  as  was  possible.  He  was 
carrying  the  old  woman's  bundle,  while  Louis  helped  her 
along.  Onward  they  hurried  in  the  direction  of  the  oth- 
er village,  when-  the  battery  was  erected.  Soon,  how- 
ever, I  lost  sight  of  them,  as  I  had  other  things  to  attend 
to  than  looking  after  the  fugitives. 

It  was  a  brave  deed,  children,  and  it  might  have  ended 
very  badly  for  its  gallant  little  performer.  Nell,  1  see,  is 
looking  very  anxious  to  know  how  it  all  ended.  You  will 
be  pleased  to  know  that  all  three  escaped  safely.  Better, 
still.  Fritz's  bravery  and  unsellish  conduct  had  their  re- 
ward. 

The  story  came  to  be  talked  about  in  the  army.  It  got 
to  the  ears  of  our  gallant  leader  and  Crown  Pri ,  "Out- 
Fritz. "the  soldiers'  friend,  as  we  called  him.  He  inter- 
ested himself,  after  the  war  was  over,  for  his  poor  little 
orphan  namesake.  His  kindness  got  him  a  free  place  in 
the  cad'-t  school  of  I'.erlin,  where  he  studied  militarv  lac 
tics,  and  passed  an  examination  brilliant  enough  to  do 
cn  'lit  to  his  ro\  al  patron.  1  Ic  is  rising  fast  in  his  profes- 
sion \.iihout  losing  any  of  the  good  qualities  thai  endear- 
ed him  to  us  in  his  low  estate.  So  now,  guess  who  is  com- 
ing to-morrow  to  pay  us  a  long  visit  at  our  country  home  > 
Why,  who  but  Captain  Fritz,  the  former  "  pet  of  the  regi- 
ment." 

THOR'S  JOUKNEY  TO  JOTUNHEM. 

I!  V    ,IA  M  F.S    HA  I.I)  \V  I  X. 


CIIAPTKK  III. 

/^  ROSS  INC  the  court -yard  Thor  and  his  followers 
\J  came  to  the  palace,  and,  the  door  being  open,  they 
walked  boldly  into  the  broad  hall.  There  they  saw  a 
great  many  huge  giants,  some  silting,  some  standing,  and 
some  at  big  round  tables  engaged  in  quiet  games. 

Our  three  travellers  passed  entirely  through  this  hall, 
but  they  were  so  small  that  they  were  not  seen,  although 
they  were  in  great  danger  of  being  stepped  upon  and 
crushed  to  death. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  hall  was  the  King's  audience- 
chamber;  and  when  they  entered  it  and  saw  the  great 
L'tgard-Loke  upon  his  throne,  they  stopped  and  uncover- 
ed their  heads  and  saluted  him.  Yet  it  was  a  long  time 
before  he  noticed  them.  At  length  he  looked  down,  and 
said, 

"  Ah  !  here  are  three  little  striplings  who  have  lost  their 
way.  ilethinks  from  his  looks  that  one  of  them  is  our  old 
enemy,  Asa-Thor,  from  Asgard." 

''You  are  right,"  said  Thor,  stretching  himself  to  his 
full  height.  ''  I  am  he." 

"Well,"  said  the  King.  "  what  would  you  have  at-Ut- 
gard's  castle  ?  What  are  you  good  for  !  What  can  you 
do  ?  For  we  allow  no  one  to  stop  with  us  unless  he  can 
do  some  one  thing  better  than  any  of  us  can  do  it.  Now 
in  what  way  do  you  think  you  excel  ?  What  feat  of 
strength  or  skill  would  you  like  to  undertake  ?" 

Then  said  Thor,  who  in  truth  was  very  hungry,  "There 
is,  indeed,  one  thing  that  I  can  do,  of  which  I  am  anx- 
ious to  make  trial  at  once ;  I  can  eat  more  food,  and  eat 
it  faster,  than  any  of  your  big  Utgard  men." 

And  the  King  answered,  "You  have  said  well,  and  you 
have  spoken  of  that  about  which  you  may  truly  boast  un- 
til you  find  some  one  who  can  outdo  you.  We  will  see 
how  fast  you  can  eat." 

Then  he  summoned  his  vassals,  and  bade  them  make 


484 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THOR   TRIES   TO    LIFT   THE    CAT. 

everything  ready  for  the  trial.  A  long  trough  filled 
with  meat  was  brought  and  set  upon  the  floor ;  and  then 
the  King  called  one  of  his  men,  whose  name  was  Flame, 
and  bade  him  eat  against  Thor.  Thor  sat  down  at  one  end 
of  the  trough  and  Flame  at  the  other,  and  both  ate  as  fast 
as  they  could.  In  a  few  minutes  they  met  at  the  middle. 
Thor  had  eaten  only  the  meat,  but  Flame  had  devoured 
the  meat,  the  bones,  and  the  trough  itself.  And  all  ac- 
knowledged that  Thor  had  been  beaten  in  this  contest. 

Then  the  King  turned  to  Thor,  and  said:  "  What  other 
feat  would  our  uninvited  guests  be  pleased  to  try  ?  Or 
will  they  now  give  up,  and  say  that  they  are  beaten  ?" 

"Never!"  answered  Thor.  "Although  I  succeed  but 
poorly  at  eating  hard  wood  and  bones,  yet  I  can  drink  al- 
most anything.  For  no  man  can  drink  as  fast  as  I,  or  as 
much.  Now  since  I  am  very  thirsty,  I  should  be  glad  to 
undertake  the  feat  of  drinking." 

The  King  readily  agreed,  and  he  bade  all  the  people  come 
into  his  great  banquet  hall,  and  ordered  the  servants  to 
bring  his  drinking  liorii. 

"This  is  the  horn,"  said  the  King,  "out  of  which  we 
make  our  courtiers  drink  when  they  have  broken  the  rules 
of  our  court.  Most  of  them  can  empty  it  at  the  first 
draught,  but  some  of  the  weaker  ones  drink  twice.  I  sup- 
pose, of  course,  that  the  great  Asa-Thor  can  drink  it  all  at 
one  swallow,  and  then  want  more.  Come,  try  it !" 

Thor  took  a  deep  breath,  put  the  horn  to  his  lips,  and 
drank  as  much  as  he  could.  When  he  stopped  he  was 
amazed  to  see  the  vessel  as  full  as  ever.  The  King  laugh- 
ed and  said:  "I  never  thought  but  that  Asa-Thor  would 
have  done  better  than  that.  Yet  try  again." 

Thor  braced  himself  for  another  long  drink,  put  the 
horn  to  his  mouth,  and  drank  till  he  grew  black  in  the 
face.  Then  he  set  the  vessel  down,  and  saw  to  his  disgust 
that  the  liquor  had  sunk  but  a  very  little ;  it  would  still  be 
hard  to  carry  it  without  spilling. 

"Well,  well,  friend  Asa-Thor,"  said  the  King,  roaring 
with  laughter,  "you  drink  quite  bravely.  But  haven't 
you  saved  too  much  for  the  third  draught?  If  you  are 
not  careful,  you  will  be  so  good  to  yourself  at  first  that,  at 
the  last,  you  will  overtax  yourself.  But,  in  truth,  if  you 
show  no  greater  ability  in  other  feats  than  you  have  in 
eating  and  drinking,  our  Utgard  people  will  not  feel  very 
much  afraid  of  you." 


This  speech  made  Thor  so  angry  that 
he  took  up  the  horn  and  drank  with  all 
his  might.  But  drink  as  long  as  he 
would,  the  liquor  still  stood  at  the  same 
height,  and  he  at  last  gave  up  in  despair. 
The  King  said,  scornfully:  "  It  is  plain 
that  you  are  not  so  great  as  men  say 
you  are,  nor  as  you  yourself  think.  The 
best  that  you  can  do  is  to  say  no  more 
about  feats  which  are  impossible  to  you. 
Still,  if  you  would  like  to  undertake 
something  else,  we  shall  say  nothing 
against  your  trying." 

"  I  am  not  yet  ready  to  say  that  I  am 
beaten,"  answered  Thor.  "I  will  try 
any  other  game  that  you  may  choose. 
What  will  you  have  me  do  ?" 

The  King  thought  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said:  "  I  think  we  might  try  you  at 
a  little  game  with  which  we  sometimes 
amuse  our  children.  They  think  it  great 
fun  to  lift  my  old  cat  off  the  floor." 

Thereupon  he  uttered  a  low  whistle, 
and  an  old  gray  cat  came  out  of  a  cor- 
ner, and  rubbed  herself  against  his  legs. 
and  purred  very  loudly.      Thor  grasped 
her  round  the  body,  and  lifted  with  all 
his  might.     But  the  more  he  lifted,  the 
more  the  beast  bent  her  back,  and  all  he 
could  do  was  to  raise  one  paw  off  the  floor.     At  last, 
seeing  that  further  trial  was  vain,  he  let  go  of  the  cat. 

Then  the  King  cried  out:  "We  have  seen  that  this 
boaster  who  came  from  Asgard  is  not  what  he  pretends  to 
be.  If  such  as  he  is  great  among  the  Asa  folk,  what 
kind  of  people  must  those  Asa  folk  be  ?  We  will  have  no 
more  games  and  no  more  trials  of  strength,  for  the  time 
is  growing  late.  Let  our  self-invited  guests  be  shown  to 
the  chambers  which  have  been  made  ready  for  them,  and 
let  them  be  entertained  as  friends.  But  on  the  morrow  let 
them  betake  themselves  back  to  their  own  land,  where  they 
may  tell  their  countrymen  of  what  they  have  seen  in  ,Jo- 
tunbem,  and  of  what  great  things  they  failed  to  do  in 
Utgard's  castle." 

The  next  morning  Thor  and  his  comrades  were  led  into 
the  banquet  hall,  and  the  choicest  food  of  every  kind  was 
set  before  them.  And  when  they  had  eaten  and  drank  to 
their  fill  they  bade  farewell  to  Utgard's  castle,  and  set  out 
on  their  journey  homeward.  And  Utgard-Loke,  the  Giant- 
King,  walked  with  them  across  the  plain  as  far  as  to  the 
boundaries  of  the  wood.  There  pausing,  he  said : 

' '  My  good  friend  Asa-Thor,  you  have  met  the  wolf  in  his 
lair,  as  you  boasted  you  would  do;  what  think  you  of 
him  ?  How  much  honor  do  you  think  you  have  gained 
in  Jotunhem  ?" 

"I  must  frankly  own  that  I  have  gained  none,"  answer- 
ed Thor,  ashamed,  but  always  truthful. 
Then  the  giant  said  : 

"Now  that  you  are  safely  away  from  my  castle,  and 
shall  never  go  into  it  again,  I  will  tell  you  something. 
You  have  done  much  greater  tilings  in  Jotunhem  than  you 
think.  If  I  had  dealt  fairly  with  you,  and  used  no  decep- 
tion, you  might  have  done  us  great  harm.  But  from  be- 
ginning to  end  I  fooled  you  with  trickery.  It  was  I  who 
met  you  in  the  forest,  where  I  dropped  my  mitten  on  pur- 
pose to  give  you  a  lodging-place  for  the  night.  I  tied  the 
dinner-bag  with  iron  wire  in  such  a  way  that  you  could 
find  no  ends  and  no  knots.  When  you  struck  at  me 
under  the  tree,  your  first  stroke  would  have  killed  me  had 
you  hit  me  as  you  thought.  But  before  going  to  sleep  I 
had  drawn  a  mountain  around  me,  and  it  was  that  which 
you  struck  when  you  thought  you  had  cleaved  my  skull. 
"When  you  sat  down  to  the  eating  trial  you  did  not 
know  that  you  were  contending  with  fire,  yet  Flame, 


JTXE  .1,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PKOPI.I-:. 


485 


who  ati-  meat,  bones,  and  trough,  was  but  the  wildfire 
which  destroys  everything  in  its  way.  When  you  al- 
most killed  yourself  trying  to  empty  my  drinking  horn. 
you  did  not  know  that  the  small  end  of  the  horn  was  in 
the  >.-a.  and  that  if  you  had  emptied  it  you  would  have 
drunk  old  ocean  dry.  And  yet  you  drank  most  won- 
derfully well:  for  when  you  shall  eome  to  the  sea  again 
you  will  lind  that  it  is  much  shallower  than  when  you 
crossed  it  t  hive  da  \  s  ayo. 

"The  eat  which  you  could  not  lift  was.  in  truth,  the  great 

Milliard  snake,  which  holds  tl arth  in  his  coils.  And 

when  we  saw  that  you  had  really  raised  one  paw  up  from 
the  floor,  we  were  very  much  alarmed,  for  at  that  time  the 
snake  could  barely  make  his  head  and  tail  meet,  and  if 
the  earth  had  slipped  out  of  his  embrace  it  would  have 
been  all  over  with  us.  Now  x<>  home.  Asa  Thor;  for 
should  you  stay  here  I  have  other  tricks  in  stoiv  wit  h  which 
to  fool  \  on.  and  you  would  never  get  the  better  of  me." 

Thor  was    more    a  lurry  than    he    had   ever  been   before. 

Heseized  his  hammer  with  both,  hands,  and  turned  to  strike 

the    (  iiallt    K  illL,r:    Illlt    lie    could    see    no    one    save    the    Heel 

footed  Thialfe  and  the  smiliiitr  Ixoska  of  the  golden  hair, 
lie  looked  where  the  Lrreal  castle  had  stood,  thinking  that 
he  \\oiild  go  hack  and  level  it  to  the  Around  ;  but  there  uas 
nothing  there  save  the  meadow  like  plain  coveivdwith 
tall  waving  grass.  The  palace  of  l"l:;ard  l.oke  had  van 
ished. 

Thor  bit.  his  lip  with  vexation,  and  returned  with  all 
speed  to  his  home  on  Asgard  Mountain,  \\isi-r.  by  far. 
than  when  he  had  left  it . 


RAISING    THE   "PEAPxL." 

BY      J  A.  M  K  *      <  >  T  I  S, 
AUTHOII  <>K  "Tom  TVI.KI:."  "TiM  AMI  Tir,"  "  Mi:,  .vn  lira's  ISlioTllEK,"  ETC. 


<  IIAPTKH    XVI. 
UXSlVl'KSSFri,   I'I.(iTTIN(i. 

EVEN  in  his  whispered  conversation   it   was  easy  to  tell 
that  Master  Tucker  was  thoroughly  disheartened  ;  but 
how  to  aid  him  was  an  entirely  dill'erent  matter. 

"  We  shall  have  to  tell  him  you  are  here. "said  Dare. 

"No,  no,  don't  do  that: 
he'd  just  about  kill  me.  I'd 
rather  starve  than  have  him 
know  it.  Can't  you  get  me 
a  cracker  or  something  and 
shove  it  under  the  berth  .'" 

"  I  don't  dare  to  now ;  but 
I  will  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning." 

"Be  as  early  as  you  can," 
whispered  the  hungry  pi- 
rate, and  then  he  crept  cau- 
tiously back  to  his  hiding- 
place,  while  Dare  lay  and 
wondered  how.  it  would  be 
possible  to  keep  Tommy's 
presence  a  secret  until  he 
could  be  landed. 

As  might  be  expected,  he 
was  in  a  very  unenviable 
frame  of  mind  regarding 
Tommy's  presence  on  the 
Pearl. 

He  knew  the  proper  thing 
for  him  to  do  was  to  tell  the 


little  man  the  exact  state  of  the  case,  and  not  attempt  to 
deceive  him  iii  any  way.  But  he  feared  to  do  this  because 
of  the  consequences  to  the  pirate. 

Captain  Sammy  was  justly  angry  with  Tommy  for  hav- 
ing wrecked  the  boa  I,  and  there  was  no  doubt  but  that  he 
would  inllict  some  terrible  punishment  upon  him  because 
of  it  in  case  he  should  meet  him.  If  he  should  know  that 
Tommy  had  secreted  himself  on  hoard  the  Pearl,  thinking 
to  take  a  pleasure  trip  in  the  steamer  without  the  know- 
ledge of  iis  o\\  ner.  the  little  man  would  be  still  more  an- 
gry, and  thoughts  of  the  revenge  he  might  take  made 
1  >an-  shudder. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  could  get  to  sleep  that 
night,  anil  even  then  he  awakened  at  short  intervals,  his 
fears  being  so  great  that  sleep  could  not  overcome  them. 

When  daylight  came   Dare  was  the  first  to  respond  to 
the  little  man's  call,  but  he  could  not  look  him  fully  in  the 
face,  hecanse  of  the  knowledge  that  he  was  deceiving  him, 
and  he  feared  his  secret  could  be  read  from  his  counte 
nance. 

He  did  succeed,  however,  in  throwing  some  bread  and 
cold  meat  under  the  berth  where  Tommy  lay  concealed, 
but  he  had  no  chance  to  speak  to  the  self  made  prisoner. 

The  lire  in  the  furnace  had  hem  banked  on  the  night 
previous,  and  the  \\ork  of  getting  up  steam  occupied  but  a 
short  time:  in  fact,  SO  cpiickly  was  it  done  that  the  little 
craft  uas  ploughing  her  way  through  the  waters  of  Sara- 
BOta  I  Jay  before  (  'aptain  Sammy  had  breakfast  ready. 

That  meal  was  eaten  as  was  the  dinner  the  day  before, 
first  by  the  little  ( 'aptain.  ( 'barley,  and  Hobby,  and  then 
by  Rogers  and  1  >are. 

After  Dare  took  up  his  position  in  the  pilot  house  airain. 
('aptain  Sammy  remained  in  the  bow,  even  though  the 
channel  uas  vc i  deep  and  wide  that  there  was  no  necessity 
of  his  directing  the  helm  si  nan.  and  it  seemed  to  the  anxious 
Dare  that  he  \\as  on  the  lookout  for  something. 

ThroULrh  the  bay.  past  Sarasota  Key.  to  Chaise's  Key. 
the  little  steamer  continued  her  course  in  what  might 
have  been  called  an  inside  channel;  but  here  this  water- 
way protected  by  ke\  s  came  to  an  end.  and  the  yacht  was 
run  through  Casey  I 'ass  to  the  clear  waters  of  the  Gulf. 

Then  the  course  was  down  past  the  coast  within  about  a 
mile  of  the  shore,  and  when  they  had  run  for  a  few  miles 
Captain  Sammy  surprised. Dare  greatly  by  telling  him  to 
give  the  signal  to  stop  the  engine. 


*  Begun  in  No.  175.  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


'  SUDDENLY   THEY    SAW    CAPTAIN    SAMMY    THROW    THE    HARPOON.' 


486 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Wonderingly  Dare  obeyed,  and  when  the  little  steamer 
lay  almost  motionless  on  the  water,  the  little  man  ex- 
plained to  Dare  and  the  other  boys,  who  had  come  rushing 
out  in  the  greatest  excitement  to  learn  the  meaning-  of  the 
sudden  stop, 

''I  want  to  try  and  get  a  turtle  or  two,  so  that  we  can 
change  our  bill  of  fare  a  little,  and  I  reckon  we  sha'n'l 
have  to  row  around  here  very  long  without  finding  one." 

Then  he  ordered  the  tender  made  ready,  while  he  went 
below,  and  took  from  right  in  front  of  where  Tommy  was 
lying  in  fear  and  trembling  a  single-pronged  harpoon 
that  he  had  stowed  away  there. 

While  he  was  below  Dare  had  an  opportunity  of  tell- 
ing Charley  and  Bobby,  in  a  very  hurried  way,  of  the 
cause  of  the  previous  night's  disturbance. 

Their  surprise,  and  in  Bobby's  case  fear,  was  written  so 
plainly  on  their  faces  when  Captain  Sammy  came  on 
deck  that  it  was  a  wonder  he  did  not  suspect  that  some- 
thing was  wrong,  and  he  probably  would  have  done  so 
had  he  not  been  so  deeply  engaged  in  the  matter  of  get- 
ting a  turtle  for  dinner. 

It  was  while  Captain  Sammy  was  making  the  boat 
ready  that  a  sudden  thought  presented  itself  to  Dare.  If 
he  could  arrange  matters  so  that  Eogers  and  Bobby  went 
in  the  boat  with  Captain  Sammy,  there  would  be  a  possi- 
bility that  he  might,  in  case  the  chase  led  the  party  any 
distance  from  the  steamer,  run  the  Pearl  in  close  to  laud, 
and  set  Tommy  ashore. 

Of  course  he  had  no  idea  what  the  boy  would  do  there 
so  far  from  home;  his  only  thought  was  to  get  him  out  of 
the  dangerous  position  in  which  lie  had  placed  himself. 

"Now  who's  going  with  me  ?  I  can't  take  but  two;" 
and  Captain  Sammy  looked  around  as  if  he  expected  that 
each  one  would  be  eager  to  accompany  him. 

Dare  had  110  idea  of  going  if  lie  could  help  it,  and 
Charley  and  Bobby  were  so  dazed  by  the  strange  iiewTs 
they  had  heard  that  they  paid  no  attention  to  the  ques- 
tion. 

It  was  while  all  three  stood  silent  that  Rogers  said, 

"  I  should  like  to  go,  if  the  boys  don't  care  to,  for  it  has 
been  some  time  since  I  have  been  on  that  kind  of  a  lark." 

''You  can,  of  course;  but  I  thought  the  boys  would  be 
just  crazy  for  it,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  in  surprise  at  the 
indifference  displayed  by  the  crew. 

Dare  realized  that  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  say  some- 
thing in  order  that  their  singular  behavior  might  not  ex- 
cite suspicion,  and  he  said,  in  a  hesitating  way. 

"  If  you  would  take  Mr.  Eogers  and  Bobby  with  you,  it 
would  give  Charley  and  me  a  chance  to  see  how  we  could 
hiindle  the  steamer  alone,  and  we  could  come  after  you 
whenever  you  were  ready  to  come  on  board." 

"All  right,"  said  the  little  man,  as  he  motioned  the  oth- 
ers to  get  into  the  boat ;  but  it  was  quite  plainly  to  be  seen 
that  he  thought  the  affair  very  strange,  despite  this  appar- 
ently plausible  excuse. 

As  soon  as  the  boat  left  the  steamer,  Dare  and  Charley 
went  below,  where  they  found  the  pirate  had  already 
emerged  from  his  concealment,  and  was  in  the  engine- 
room,  eating  at  a  rapid  rate.  From  his  hiding-place  he 
had  heard  the  conversation  on  deck,  and  as  soon  as  the 
sounds  told  that  the  small  boat  had  started,  he  made  a 
frantic  rush  for  the  eatables. 

In  a  brief,  hurried  way  Dare  told  Tommy  what  he  pro- 
posed to  do,  and  asked  him  if  he  would  be  willing  to  go 
on  shore  at  any  point  it  would  be  possible  to  land  him. 

"  I'll  go  anywhere,  no  matter  what  kind  of  a  place  it  is, 
jest  so's  I'm  clear  of  him, "said  Tommy,  speaking  rather 
indistinctly  because  of  the  quantity  of  food  in  his  mouth. 

Thus  assured  that  the  party  whom  they  wanted  to  aid 
was  willing  to  be  aided,  the  boys  went  oil  deck  in  order 
that  they  might  keep  watch  of  the  boat,  so  as  to  take  the 
first  opportunity  of  landing  the  fugitive. 

They  could  see  Captain  Sammy  standing  in  the  how  of 


the  tender,  with  his  harpoon  raised  ready  for  throwing, 
as  if  he  already  saw  his  prey,  while  Bobby  and  Rogers 
were  steadily  pulling  away  from  the  Pearl. 

The  little  boat  was  soon  fully  a  mile  and  a  half  in  ad- 
vance of  the  steamer,  and  it  seemed  certain  that  they  could 
reach  the  shore  without  being  discovered,  as  to  their  in- 
tentions, until  after  it  was  too  late  to  capture  Tommy. 

Suddenly  they  saw  Captain  Sammy  throw  the  harpoon, 
and  iu  another  moment  the  boat  dashed  ahead  with  in- 
creased speed,  showing  that  the  iron  was  fast  in  a  turtle, 
which  was  dragging  the  boat  along  at  a  rapid  rate. 

It  seemed  to  Dare  that  the  time  had  come  for  him  to 
put  his  plan  into  execution,  and  he  headed  the  boat  direct- 
ly for  the  shore. 

"  Now  start  her  up!"  he  shouted  to  Charley,  and  an  in- 
stant after  the  little  craft  leaped  through  the  water  at  a 
rate  that  told  every  ounce  of  steam  had  been  applied. 

For  just  one  moment,  and  only  one,  Dare  felt  sure  that 
he  would  be  successful.  Then  Captain  Sammy's  boat 
was  whirled  suddenly  around,  as  if  the  turtle  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  travel  in  another  direction,  and  dashed 
along  within  fifty  yards  of  the  shore  at  right  angles  with 
the  course  the  Pearl  was  on. 

"Slow  down!"  Dare  shouted  to  Charley,  and  as  the 
I  steamer's  speed  was  slackened  he  saw  Captain  Sammy 
waving  his  hand  for  him  to  approach. 

"It's  all  up  now,"  shouted  Dare  to  the  engine-room. 
"Captain  Sammy's  coming  right  for  us,  and  you'll  have 
to  hide  Tommy  again." 

Between  turtle-power  and  steam-power  the  two  boats 
came  together  very  rapidly,  and  by  the  time  they  were 
within  hailing  distance  Captain  Sammy  succeeded  in 
passing  a  rope  around  one  of  the  turtle's  flippers,  and  thus 
making  him  prisoner. 

"You  did  the  thing  just  right,"  said  Captain  Sammy, 
as  he  came  on  board,  "and  if  you  should  go  turtling  all 
the  rest  of  your  life,  you  never  could  handle  a  boat  as 
near  right  as  you  have  this  one." 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

ABOUT   TURTLES. 

IT  was  a  huge  turtle  which  Captain  Sammy  had  cap- 
tured, and  when  it  \vas  pulled  in  aboard  of  the  Pearl  its 
jaws  opened  and  shut  with  a  snap  as  it  bit  furiously  at 
everything  near  it. 

"Now,"  said  Captain  Sammy,  assuming  the  same  lea  in 
ed  air  he  had  worn  during  the  talk  about  reefs,  "  what  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  is  what  kind  of  a  turtle  that  is." 

I    |i  1"  this   time   the   lioys   h;mll\    kneu    that    there   was 
more  than  one  species  of  turtles,  and  with  some  h<sita 
tion  Dare  confessed  as  much. 

"  Why,  you  boys  don't  know  nothin'  at  all — nothin'  at 
all,  "cried  Captain  Sammy,  in  tones  of  disdain.  "Thought 
there  wasn't  but  one  kind  of  turtle,  eh,  an'  you  claim  to 
have  been  brought  up  among  civilized  creeters  ?  What 
was  your  father  thinkin'  of,  and  how  did  he  expect  you 
was  going  to  earn  your  own  living  if  you  didn't  know 
anything  about  turtles  ?" 

Dare  was  on  the  point  of  saying  that  inasmuch  as  they 
did  not  intend  to  become  turtle  fishers,  save  for  the  few 
months  they  were  in  Florida,  such  knowledge  was  not  of 
very  great  importance,  although  it  might  be  useful.  But 
he  checked  himself,  and  said,  instead, 

"How  many  kinds  are  there,  sir  ?" 

"There's  a  good  many  kinds,  and  you  ought  to  have 
known  it,"  replied  Captain  Sammy,  solemnly.  "There's 
the  hawksbill,  for  instance,  that  what  is  called  the  tor- 
toise-shell comes  from,  an'  there  used  to  be  a  good  many 
of  them  around  here.  They  are  the  ones  that  only  lay 
tw&  sets  of  eggs,  one  in  July  and  one  in  August,  and 
then  they  layabout  one  hundred  and  fifty  at  a  time,  or 
three  hundred  in  all.  Then  there  is  the  green  turtle  and 


JCXE  r,,  isss. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


48T 


I've  seen  one  that  weighed  over  five  hundred  pounds.  Some 
folks  say  they  do  go  as  high  as  seven  hundred,  but  about 
that  you  can  have  your  opinion,  and  I'll  have  mine. 
Green  turtles  commence  with  the  egg  business  in  May, 
laying  two  litters  in  that  month,  and  one  in  June,  aver- 
aging about  eighty  to  the  nest.  That's  the  kind  of  turtles 
that  make  the  best  eating.  Then  there's  a  kind  called 
the  loggerhead  that's  great  on  eggs;  she  lays  three  sets  ::i 
about  the  same  time  the  green  turtle  does,  and  when  sin- 
gels  through  witli  her  work  she's  laid  live  hundred.  The 
trunk  turtle  ain't  so  far  behind,  although  she  only  lays 
about  three  hundred  and  fifty  eggs  in  the  season." 

The  bovs  almost  forgot  their  pirate  under  the  berth  in 
their  sin-prise  at  the  great  number  of  eggs  one  turtle  would 
lay,  and  they  were  about  to  ask  some  questions  regarding 
the  manner  in  which  the  eggs  were  deposited,  when  the 
little  man  continued  : 

"The  loggerhead  and  trunk  turtles  are  mighty  savage 
creeters,  and  run  a  good  deal  larger  in  size  than  the  oth- 
ers do;  they  lay  their  eggs  anywhere  around  here.  The 
green  turtle  is  more  shy.  and  she  gets  oil'  where  there  isn't 
so  much  of  a  chance  that  any  one  will  lind  her  eggs;  but 
1  have  known  her  to  come  right  up  on  the  coast  here  to 
make  her  nest.  But  the  hawksbill.  she's  the  one  that 

takes  LT 1  ,-are  no  one  finds  her  out.  and  when  she  wants 

to  lay  eggs  she  gets 'way  Off  OD  the  smallest  keys.       It's  my 
opinion" — and    now  Captain   Sammy    looked  very   wise 
"that  turtles  are  a   mighty  knowing  animal.      I  don't  e-o 
so  far  as  to  say  that  they  know  je-t   \\  hat  you  are  talking 
about,  but   they    conic-  [pretty  near  it." 

"How  do  they  make-  I  heir  nests,  sir  !"  asked  ]>arc. 

"  Now  that's  where  their  cunning  comes  in."  said  the 
liltle  man.  earnestly.  "They  don't  come  out  till  high 
water  on  a  moon  light  night,  and  they  know  when  if  s  hi^h 
water  as  well  as  1  do.  They  go  up  jest  above  the  hiLjlic^! 
point  of  the  tide,  and  scoop  out  a  nest  with  their  flippers 
in  the-  sand.  Then  they  commence  to  lay  I  heir  eggs,  do- 
ing it  very  quickly,  and  when  they're  done  they  cover 
them  over  with  sand  and  go  back  into  the  water  again 
The  sun  hatches  the  eggs,  you  knou.  and  when  the  little 
turtles  come  out  they  make  a  bee  line  for  the  water. 
They  ain't  more  than  an  inch  long,  and  the  birds  gohl.le 
upas  many  of  them  as  they  can  lie  fore  they  get  into  the 
sea." 

"How  deep  are  the  nests  ?"  asked  Charley,  wondering 
whether  they  might  not  remain  there  until  it  was  time  to 
hunt  for  such  nests  full  of  eggs  as  the  Captain  had  de- 
scribed. 

"  About  a  foot  and  a  half  deep,  and  it  only  takes  the 
old  turtle  about  ten  minutes  to  fill  it." 

"Now  what  kind  of  a  turtle  is  this  one  ?"  asked  Dare, 
pointing  to  the  enormous  fellow  that  was  snapping  savage- 
ly at  everything  near  him. 

"That  {  Why,  that's  a  loggerhead,  of  course,  and  you 
ought  to  know  it,  after  all  this  talk,"  cried  Captain  Sammy, 
impatiently;  and  then,  as  if  he  had  just  noticed  that  the 
steamer  had  not  started  again,  he  shouted,  "What  do  you 
mean  by  loafing  around  here  ?  Get  oil  at  once,  for  if 
nothing  happens  we  must  anchor  off  Puiita  Rassa  to- 
night." 

Dare  rushed  to  the  pilot-house,  Rogers  and  Charley 
•went  to  the  engine-room,  and  Bobby  was  forced  to  help 
Captain  Sammy  in  the  preparation  of  turtle  soup  for 
dinner. 

When  Dare  went  on  deck  they  were  just  passing  Lacosta 
Island,  and  Captain  Sammy  seated  himself  in  the  bow 
again. 

Then  Boca  Captiva  and  Captiva  Island  were  left  astern. 
Quite  late  in  the  afternoon  Sanibel  Island  was  reached. 
the  yacht  swung  gracefully  around  Point  Ybel,  up  past 
Fort  Dulaiiy  and  into  San  Carlos  Harbor,  anchoring  off 
Punta  Rassa  a,  short  time  after  night-fall. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.! 


TWO  OBSCURE  HEROES. 

THE  PARTISAN  WARFARE  IN  THE  CAROLINAS  WAS 

I:KI;I  \ 

f.V  c:r.<>I!<;K  c.\nr  EGGLESTON. 

TTTHEN  the  British  marched  up  from  Savannah  and 
T  »  took  Charleston,  in  the  spring  of  1780,  they  thought 
the  Revolution  was  at  an  end  in  the  Southern  States,  and 
it  really  seemed  so.  Even  the  patriots  thought  it  was 
useless  to  resist  any  longer,  and  so  when  the  British  or- 
dered all  tin-  people-  to  come  together  at  different  places 
and  enroll  themselves  as  British  subjects,  most  of  them 
were  reaily  to  do  it.  simply  because  they  thought  they 
could  not  help  themselves. 

Only  a  few  daring  men  here  and  there  were  hold  enough 
to  think  of  refusing,  and  but  for  them  the  British  could 
have  set  up  the  royal  power  again  in  South  Carolina,  and 
then  they  would  have  been  free  to  take  their  whole  force 
against  the  patriots  further  north.  The  fate  of  the  whole 
country  depended,  to  a  large  extent,  upon  the  coin-age  of 
the  few  men  who  would  not  give  up  even  at  such  a  time, 
but  kept  up  the  light  against  all  odds.  These  brave-  men 
forced  the  British  to  keep  an  army  in  the  South  which 
they  needed  further  north. 

The  credit  of  beginning  this  kind  of  partisan   warfare 
belongs  chiefly  to  two  or  three  plain  men.  who  did  it  sini 
ply  because  they  loved  their  country  7iiore  than  their  ease. 

The  man  who  first  began  it  was  Justin  Gaston — a  white- 
haired  patriot  who  lived  on  a  little  stream  called  Fishing 
('reek,  near  Rocky  Mount.  He  was  eighty  years  of  age, 
and  might  well  have  thought  himself  too  old  to  care  about 
war  matters;  hut  he  uas  a  brave  man  and  a  patriot,  and 
the  people  who  lived  near  him  were  in  the  habit  of  tak- 
ing his  advice  and  doing  as  he  did. 

When  t  he  news  came  that  Tarleton  had  killed  a  baud  of 
patriots  under  ( 'olonel  Buford  in  cold  blood  Justin  ( iaston 
called  his  nine  sons  and  many  of  his  nephews  around  him. 
Joining  hands,  these  young  men  promised  each  other  that 
they  nevri-  \\onld  take  the  British  oath,  and  never  would 
give  up  the  cause,  come  what  might. 

Soon  afterward  a  British  force  came  to  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  all  the  people  were  ordered  to  meet  at  Rocky 
Mount  to  enroll  their  names  and  take  the  oath.  One  of 
the  British  ollicers  went  to  see  Justin  Gaston,  anil  tried  to 
persuade  him  that  it  was  folly  to  refuse.  He  knew  that  if 
(  iaMon  advised  the  people  to  give  up,  there  would  be  no 
trouble;  but  the  white-haired  patriot  told  him  to  his  face 
that  lie  would  never  take  the  oath  himself  or  advise  any- 
body else  to  do  so. 

As  soon  as  the  officer  left,  the  old  man  sent  for  his  friends, 
and  about  thirty  brave  fellows  met  at  his  house  that  night, 
with  their  rifles  in  their  hands.  They  knew  there  would 
be  a  strong  force  of  British  and  Tories  at  Rocky  Mount  the 
next  day,  but  in  spite  of  the  odds  against  them  they  made- 
up  their  minds  to  attack  the  place.  Creeping  through  the 
woods,  they  suddenly  came  upon  the  crowd,  and  after  a 
sharp  fight  sent  the  British  flying  helter-skelter  in  every 
direction.  This  stopped  the  work  of  enrolling  the  people 
as  British  subjects,  and  it  did  more  than  that.  It  showed 
the  patriots  through  the  whole  country  that  they  could 
still  give  the  British  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  after  this 
affair  many  of  the  men  who  had  thought  of  giving  up 
rubbed  up  their  rifles  instead,  and  formed  little  bands  of 
fighting  men  to  keep  the  war  going. 

Another  man  who  did  much  to  stir  up  partisan  warfare 
•was  the  Rev.  William  Martin,  an  old  and  pious  preacher 
in  the  Scotch -Irish  settlements.  These  Scotch-Irish  were 
very  religious  people,  and  their  preacher  was  their  leader 
in  all  things.  One  Sunday  after  the  news  had  come  to  the 
settlement  that  Buford's  men  had  been  killed  by  the  Brit- 
ish in  cold  blood,  the  eloquent  old  man  went  into  his  pul- 
pit and  preached  about  the  duty  of  fighting.  In  the  after- 
noon he  preached  again,  and  even  when  the  service  was 


488 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


over  he  went  on  in  the  open  air,  still  preaching-  to  the 
people  how  they  should  light  for  their  country,  until  all 
the  men  in  the  settlement  were  full  of  lighting-  spirit. 
The  women  told  the  men  to  go  and  do  their  duty,  and 
that  they  would  take  care  of  the  crops. 

These  little  bands  of  patriots  were  too  small  to  fight  reg- 
ular battles,  or  even  to  hold  strong  posts.  They  had  to 
hide  in  the  woods  and  swamps,  and  only  came  out  when 
they  saw  a  chance  to  strike  a  blow.  Then  the  blow  fell 
like  lightning,  and  the  men  who  dealt  it  quickly  hid  them- 
selves again. 

They  had  signs  by  which  they  told  each  other  what 


least  kept  them  in  a  hornets'  nest.  If  they  could  not 
drive  them  out  of  South  Carolina,  they  could  keep  them 
there,  which  was  nearly  as  good  a  thing  to  do,  because 
every  soldier  that  Cornwallis  had  to  keep  in  the  South 
would  have  been  sent  to  some  other  part  of  the  country 
to  fight  the  Americans  if  the  Carolinians  had  let  the  Brit- 
ish alone. 

In  this  way  small  bands  of  resolute  men  kept  Corn- 
wallis busy,  and  held  the  State  for  the  American  cause, 
until  General  Greene  went  South  and  took  command. 
Greene  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  American  Generals, 
and  after  a  long  campaign  he  drove  the  British  out  of  the 


iit 


^ 


iH      i 

rrsr^:-:'r«^     ,,, 

I^^g%p4 

>>m,      W$-^i&3' 


MARTIN    PREACHING    TO    THE    PEOPLE    ON    THE    DUTY    OP    FIGHTING. 


they  were  going  to  do.  A  twig  bent  down,  a  few  stones 
strung  along  a  path,  or  any  other  of  a  hundred  small 
signs,  served  to  tell  every  patriot  when  and  where  to  meet 
his  friends.  A  man  riding  about,  breaking  a  twig  here 
and  there,  or  making  some  other  sign  of  the  kind,  could 
call  together  a  large  force  at  a  chosen  spot  within  a  few 
hours.  The  men  brought  out  in  this  way  would  fall  sud- 
denly upon  some  stray  British  force  that  was  off  its  guard, 
and  utterly  destroy  it.  The  British  would  at  once  send  a 
strong  body  of  troops  to  punish  the  daring  patriots,  hut. 
the  redcoat  leader  would  look  in  vain  for  anybody  to  pun- 
ish. The  patriots  could  scatter  and  hide  as  quickly  as  they 
could  come  together. 

Finding  that  they  could  not  destroy  these  patriot  compa- 
nies, the  British  and  Tories  took  their  revenge  on  women 
and  children.  They  burned  the  houses  of  the  patriots, 
carried  off  their  crops,  and  killed  their  cattle,  so  as  to 
starve  their  families ;  but  the  women  were  as  brave  as  the 
men,  and  from  first  to  last  not  one  of  them  ever  wished 
her  husband  or  son  to  give  up  the  fight. 

If  the  patriots  could  not  conquer  the  British,  they  at 


State.  But  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  partisans  the  South 
would  have  been  lost  long  before  he  could  be  spared  to  go 
there;  and  if  the  partisans  had  not  kept  a  British  army 
busy  there,  it  might  have  gone  very  hard  with  the  Ameri- 
cans in  the  rest  of  the  country. 

When  we  rejoice  in  the  freedom  of  our  country  we 
ought  not  to  forget  how  much  we  owe  the  partisans, 
and  especially  such  men  as  Justin  Gaston  and  the  Rev. 
William  Martin,  who  first  set  the  partisans  at  their  work. 
It  would  have  been  much  easier  and  pleasanter  for  them 
to  remain  quiet  under  British  rule;  and  they  had  nothing 
to  gain  for  themselves,  but  everything  to  lose,  by  the  course 
they  took.  Gaston  knew  that  his  home  would  be  burned 
for  what  he  did,  and  the  eloquent  old  Scotch  preacher 
knew  that  he  would  be  put  into  a  prison-pen  for  preach- 
ing war  sermons  to  his  people;  but  they  were  not  men  to 
flinch.  They  cared  more  for  their  country  than  for  them- 
selves, and  it  was  precisely  that  kind  of  men  throughout 
the  land,  from  New  England  to  Georgia,  who  won  liberty 
for  us  by  seven  years  of  hard  fighting  and  terrible  suf- 
fering. 


JUKE  5,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


480 


f 

w 

>• 
X 

H 

cc 


X 

O 


X 

w 

3 

g 

g 

K 


USEFUL  ELEPHANTS. 

N  the  town  of  Maulmain,  in  Burmah,  the  whole  busi- 
ness of  moving  timber  is  done  by  elephants.  There 
are  many  large  timber-yards  at  Maulmain ;  indeed,  it  has 
always  been  famed  for  its  exports  of  teak  logs,  which  are 
cut  in  the  forests  upon  the  banks  of  the  Salween,  and  then 


T 


floated,  sometimes  hundreds  of  miles,  down  to  the  capital. 
In  these  timber-yards  elephants  are  employed  in  drawing, 
stacking,  and  shifting  the  immense  teak  logs,  some  of 
them  weighing  as  much  as  two  tons. 

A  log  that  forty  men  could  scarcely  move  the  elephant 
will  quietly  lift  upon  his  tusks,  and  holding  it  there  with 
his  trunk,  will  carry  it  to  whatever  part  of  the  yard  hi? 


490 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


driver  directs.  They  will  also,  using  trunk,  feet,  and 
tusks,  pile  the  huge  timbers  as  evenly  and  correctly  as 
one  could  wish.  They  will  select  and  pick  out  particular 
timbers  from  the  centre  of  a  stack  or  heap  of  more  than  a 
hundred  simply  at  the  command  of  the  driver.  The  huge 
beasts  are  directed  by  the  mahouts,  or  drivers,  by  spoken 
orders,  pressure  of  the  feet  on  their  necks,  and  by  the  use 
of  the  aubus,  or  elephant  goad. 

It  usually  requires  a  year  or  a  year  and  a  half  to  teach 
them  the  "  lumber  business,"  and  when  thoroughly  taught 
they  are  worth  from  500  rupees  ($250)  upward,  according 
to  their  abilities.  Sometimes  an  animal  breaks  his  tusks 
through  being  forced  to  carry  an  excessive  weight  by  a 
stupid  or  brutal  driver,  though  the  elephant  knows  his 
own  power,  and  generally  refuses  to  lift  more  than  his 
tusks  can  safely  bear.  If  these  should  be  broken  off  close 
to  the  head,  death  would  ensue;  if  only  cracked,  they  are 
hooped  about  with  iron  bands,  and  are  thus  rendered  ser- 
viceable for  many  years. 


HOW  TILDY  DROVE  THE  COWS  HOME. 

NY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

WHERE  is  that  boy  'Bimelech?"  said  Aunt  Huldah, 
in  an  aggrieved  tone.  "There  ain't  a  chore  done, 
and  the  white  turkey  has  gone  across  the  field  to  steal  her 
nest  again,  and  the  guinea-pigs  are  squealing  for  their 
supper  enough  to  deafen  you,  and  the  wood  wantin'  to 
be  chopped,  and  Jonas  gone  to  see  his  mother.  Why  he 
couldn't  have  a  mother  liviii'  in  this  town  instead  of  ten 
miles  off  I  don't  see;  but  hired  men  have  no  consideration 
for  other  people,  any  more  than  boys  have.  I  should  like 
to  know  who  is  going  for  the  cows !" 

Aunt  Huldah  was  a  little  cross,  but  then — poor  wo- 
man!— she  had  had  a  hard  time  to  manage  the  farm  and 
make  both  ends  meet  since  Uncle  Joshua  died.  And  al- 
though she  did  scold  sometimes,  she  was  very  kind  to 
'Bimelech  and  Tildy. 

"  I  will  go  and  bring  home  the  cows,''  said  Tildy.  "I 
can  ride  Lightning  bare-backed.  I  have  done  it  ever  so 
many  times." 

"I  don't  think  poor  old  Lightning  will  ever  run  away 
with  anybody,"  said  Aunt  Huldah.  "But  it's  hard  work 
for  you  to  take  down  the  bars  and  put  them  up  again.  I 
don't  believe  in  girls  doing  such  things,  when  it's  what 
boys  are  for.  But  there's  no  telling  what  time  that  boy'll 
be  home.  Perhaps  you  may  as  well  go.  And  you'd  bet- 
ter hurry,  for  it's  a  lonesome  road,  and  it  will  be  dark  be- 
fore long." 

Tildy  had  old  Lightning  out  of  his  stall  and  was  on 
his  back  in  a  twinkling.  But  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  hurrying  old  Lightning.  He  knew  as  well  as  Tildy 
did  that  they  were  only  going  for  the  cows,  and  he  didn't 
mean  to  hurry  his  stiff  old  bones  on  any  such  com- 
monplace occasion.  It  was  a  long  time  ago  that  Light- 
ning had  earned  his  name.  Jonas,  the  hired  "man,  said 
lie  was  "  slower  than  stock-still"  now. 

Tildy  broke  off  a  beech  switch,  and  tried  that  as  a  per- 
suader. She  did  want  to  get  the  cows  home  in  good  time, 
so  that  Aunt  Huldah  need  not  think  too  much  about  'Bim- 
elech's  absence.  He  had  a  bright  new  half-dollar  that 
he  had  earned  by  picking  berries,  and  there  was  a  circus 
over  at  Cranberry  Centre.  Tildy  didn't  know  that  he  had 
gone  there,  but  she  was  pretty  well  acquainted  with  boys. 
You  couldn't  have  'Bimelech  for  a  brother  without  being. 

Instead  of  having  his  pace  quickened  by  the  beech 
switch.  Lightning,  not  being  accustomed  to  such  things, 
stopped  short,  and  turned  his  head  around  to  look  at  it. 
Then  he  twitched  it  out  of  Tildy's  hand,  and  serenely 
munched  the  green  leaves. 

Alter  that  Tildy  returned  to  moral  suasion,  and  told 
him  how  important  it  was  to  have  the  cows  milked,  and 


the  milk  taken  care  of  at  the  proper  time,  for  of  the  cream 
was  to  be  made  Aunt  Huldah 's  goldenest,  sweetest,  fra- 
grantest  butter,  that  was  expected  to  take  a  prize  at  the 
Agricultural  Fair,  and  out  of  the  prize  money  Aunt  Hul- 
dah had  promised  to  buy  her,  Tildy,  a  new  cambric  dress — 
bright  blue  with  tiny  spots — to  wear  to  the  Sunday-school 
picnic. 

I  can't  say  that  old  Lightning  was  touched  by  these 
arguments,  but  he  did  begin  to  go  a  little  faster,  and  before 
Tildy  had  fairly  decided  what  color  to  have  the  hat  trimmed 
with  which  Aunt  Huldah  might  have  money  enough  to 
buy  her,  to  go  with  the  dress,  she  had  reached  the  pasture. 

Instead  of  being  close  beside  the  bars,  as  they  usually 
were  at  night,  the  cows  were  huddled  together  in  a  distant 
corner  of  the  field,  as  if  they  were  frightened,  and  sudden- 
ly, as  she  stopped  Lightning  at  the  bars,  he  began  to  shiver 
and  pant  with  terror. 

"What  can  it  possibly  mean  ?"  said  Tildy,  aloud.  But 
before  the  words  were  out  of  her  mouth  her  heart  seemed 
to  have  stopped  beating.  From  behind  a  clump  of  bushes 
there  suddenly  appeared  a  huge  shaggy  brown  creature, 
that  walked  with  a  lumbering  gait  straight  toward  her. 

Tildy  knew  in  a  moment  that  it  was  a  bear.  'Bimelech 
was  very  fond  of  natural  history,  and  knew  as  much  about 
animals  as  the  school-master  himself,  and  he  was  always 
showing  pictures  of  animals  to  Tildy.  and  explaining  all 
about  them. 

A  bear  he  certainly  was,  and  a  big  one,  but  how  he 
could  have  got  there  was  a  question.  Since  the  days  of 
her  great-grandfather  Tildy  knew  no  bears  had  been  seen 
about  there. 

She  had  not  much  time  to  think,  however,  for  Light- 
ning, quivering  in  every  limb,  dashed  over  the  fence — 
Lightning,  who  had  not  leaped  a  fence  for  twenty  years! 
— and,  with  Tildy  clinging  for  dear  life  to  his  neck,  \\ent 
on  a  dead  run  across  the  pasture,  over  a  stone  wall  on  the 
other  side,  through  the  brook,  and  half-way  up  the  hill, 
where  he  stopped  exhausted. 

Tildy  slipped  down  to  the  ground.  She  thought  the 
bear,  at  that  distance,  was  preferable  to  Lightning  in  his 
present  state,  which  might  lead  him  to  dash  off  again  at, 
any  moment,  for  Lightning's  terror  had  not  abated;  he  was 
only  exhausted. 

Tildy  thought  of  the  cows  with  a  dreadful  sinking  of 
the  heart,  and  looked  about  her  for  help.  But  there  was 
not  a  house  or  a  person  in  sight. 

She  stole  softly  down  to  the  stone  wall,  as  if  she  ex- 
pected the  bear  to  appear  from  behind  any  bush  by  the 
way,  and  peered  over.  The  cows  were  still  huddled  to- 
gether in  a  distant  corner  of  the  pasture.  Against  the 
liars  she  could  see  the  huge  outline  of  the  bear. 

Could  a  bear  climb  a  fence  i  Tildy  had  forgotten  the 
teachings  of  'Bimelech's  natural  history  books  on  that 
subject,  but  she  thought  it  more  than  probable  that  he 
could.  But  he  certainly  did  not  seem  to  be  making  any 
attempt  to  do  so.  Slowly,  and  with  her  heart  in  her 
mouth,  Tildy  climbed  the  stone  wall.  She  was  very  nim- 
ble, and  she  was  sure  she  could  get  over  it  again  before 
that  unwieldy  creature  could  reach  her,  and  she  might  by 
some  means  save  the  cows.  If  she  could  only  drive  them 
over  the  stone  wall !  She  walked  slowly  toward  the  bars, 
armed  with  a  large  stick. 

The  bear  did  not  seem  ferocious;  perhaps  she  could 
drive  hiin  away.  She  stopped  at  a  respectful  distance  and 
stared  at  him;  she  dared  not  go  very  near,  although  the 
bars  were  between  her  and  the  huge  creature.  As  she 
stood  gazing  at  him  a  very  strange  thing  happened.  The 
bear  rose  on  his  hind-feet,  looked  over  the  liars  at  her  in 
a  friendly  fashion,  and  held  out  his  paw  as  if  for  a  cordial 
shake ! 

This  proceeding  was  so  entirely  foreign  to  Tildy's  pre- 
vious ideas  concerning  the  habits  of  bears  that  she  did  not 
know  what  to  think.  But  when  the  bear,  linding  his 


JUNE  5,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


friendly  overtures  disregarded,  began  to  dance  a  slow  and 
stately  minuet,  Tildy  felt  like  the  little  old  woman  on  the 
Kind's  highway,  who  cried,  "O  lauk  a-mercy  on  me,  this 
surely  can't  be  I!" 

'Bimelech's  natural  history  books  said  nothing1  about 
this  kind  of  a  bear.  He  seemed  to  belong1  in  a  fairy  book. 
He  looked  at  her  as  if  he  really  wished  her  to  admire 
him.  Tildy  remembered  a  fairy  story  she  had  read  of  a 
Prince  who  was  turned  into  a  deer  by  a  wicked  fairy :  per- 
haps somebody  had  been  turned  into  this  <|iieer  bear. 

But  being  a  shrewd,  sensible  little  Yankee  girl.  Tildy 
soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  must  lie  a  more 
practical  solution  of  the  mystery.  And  suddenly  there 
flashed  into  her  mind  a  story  that  Jonas  had  told  of  a  per- 
forming bear  lie  had  seen  at  a  circus.  She  had  almost  for 
gotten  it.  because  she  had  been  so  much  more  interested  in 
the  other  wonders  of  which  Jonas  told— the  baby  elephant, 
the  giraffes,  and  the  talking  hyena:  but  Jonas  had  said  that 
the  bear  was  perfectly  harmless — "as  gentle  as  a  baby." 

This  was  certainly  a  trained  bear,  and  he  seemed  harm- 
less. Tildy  had  ceased  to  tremble  now,  and  she  took  a 
long  look  at  him.  He  was  muzzled  !  Tildy 's  courage 
arose  with  astonishing  suddenness.  ll  was  not  easy  to 
believe  ill  the  gentleness  of  a  bear  after  reading  those 

dreadful  stories  in  'Bimelech's  books :  it   was  a  < fort  to 

know  that  this  bear  could  not  bite  if  he  wanted  to.  lie 
might  hug  the  breath  out  of  her  body  with  those  great 
shaggy  paws  of  his.  but  he  did  not  seem  in  the  least  dis 
posed  to  any  such  violence,  and  Tildy  began  to  feel  as 
brave  as  a  lion. 

"  What  silly  cows,  to  be  afraid  of  a  lame  creature-  like 
that,  when  lie  didn't  try  to  touch  them:"  she  exclaimed, 
forgetting  iiow  her  teeth  had  chattered  ten  minutes  before. 
There  uas  a  collar  around  the  bear's  neck,  and  from  il 
hung  a  stout  rope.  If  she  only  dared  to  take'  hold  of  the 
rope  and  lead  the  hear  home,  what  a  sensation  she  should 
create!  thought  Tildy.  She  extended  her  hand  over  the 
top  har,  and  the  bear  immediately  placed  his  paw  upon  it 
and  gave  it  a  little  friendly  shake.  It  was  such  a  huge, 
shairir.v  paw!  Tildy  felt  a  cold  chill  creeping  over  her.  but 
she  did  not  Hindi.  He  certainly  was  a  very  sociable  bea  p. 
Tildy  took  the  bars  down  slowly,  watching  him  narrow- 
ly all  the  time.  She  took  the  rope  in  her  hand,  and  he 
still  looked  at  her  ill  the  mildest  manner  possible.  She 
might  lead  him  home  with  safety,  she  thought,  but  she 
could  not  leave  the  cows  behind,  and  their  objections  to 
thebearcoiild  not  be  easily  overcome.  But  she  resolved  to 
try  an  experiment;  she  led  him  down  the  road,  out  of 
sight  and,  she  hoped,  beyond  the  scent  of  the  cows,  he  fol- 
lowing her  with  the  docility  of  a  dog.  She  fastened  his 

rope  to  a  ti and  then  went  back  and  drove  t  lie  cows  out 

into  the  road.  They  were  a  little  wild  and  unruly,  being 
evidently  still  in  terror  of  the  bear,  but  once  in  the  road 
they  started  on  the  trot  for  home,  and  Tildy  brought  up 
the  rear  with  the  bear. 

'Bimelech  was  sitting  on  the  door-step  eating1  apple-pie. 
Jonas  had  also  returned,  and  was  looking  anxiously  down 
the  road  for  Tildy  and  the  cows. 

Tildy  and  the  bear  were  attended  by  a  throng  of  ad- 
mirers. Men,  women,  and  children  had  run  out  of  their 
houses,  and  were  following  the  bear. 

"  Jehoshaphat . !''  said  Jonas. 

Aunt  Huldah  rushed  to  the  door,  uttered  a  shriek,  and 
fainted  at  the  sight. 

"There  isn't  another  girl  in  Ponkadonk  who  would 
have  dared  to  do  that.  That  comes  of  being  mi/  sister, 
and  knowing  all  about  bears  and  things, "said  'Bimelech, 
with  his  mouth  full  of  pie.  "  That's  the  bear  that  strayed 
away  from  the  circus.  There  are  posters  all  over  Cran- 
berry Centre  offering  ten  dollars  reward  for  his  return. 
Won't  you  be  rich,  Tildy  '.  I'll  take  you  to  the  circus,  and 
you  can  pay  for  both." 

.Ion  as  went  in  search  of  old  Lightning',  and  soon  brought 


him  home,  looking  thoroughly  ashamed  of  himself,  and 
neighing  humbly  to  Tildy. 

'Bimelech  carried  the  bear  over  to  Cranberry  Centre  to 
his  owners  that  very  night — although  Tildy  felt  very  sor- 
ry to  part  with  him — and  brought  Tildy  the  ten  dollars. 
And  Tildy  had  her  new  cambric  dress  and  the  prettiest 
hat  in  Ponkadonk,  without  waiting1  for  Aunt  Huldah's 
butter  prize;  and  she  bought  for 'Bimelech  a  very  big  book 
on  natural  history,  full  of  pictures  of  animals  and  birds, 
and  a  beautiful  new  butter  stamp  for  Aunt  Huldah,  and  a 
gay  neck-tie  for  Jonas.  And  when  the  circus  came  to 
Ponkadonk  Tildy  met  her  bear  again,  and  he  greeted  her 
like  an  old  friend. 


SOME  MORE  KITES. 

r.V  A.  W.  l;o|;l-:i!TS. 

ONE  of  the  newest  styles  of  Chinese  kites  that  is  being 
offered  by  toy-dealers  is  known  as  the  tailless  fan  kite 
iFiir.  I  >•  The  frame  of  this  kite  consists  of  five  thin  and 
flat  strips  of  bamboo,  the  ends  of  which  are  shown  in  the 
figure  as  extending  beyond  the  face  of  the  fan.  The  cen- 
tre upright  strip  and  the  two  side  strips  cross  one  another 
at  the  bottom  of  the  fan,  and  form  a  small  handle,  which 
acts  as  a  balance  weight,  and  answers  the  purpose  of  a  tail. 
The  covering  is  pasted  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  fan, 
and  is  painted  to  represent  a  fan. 

The  paper  covering  of  this  kite  is  left  very  loose  to\\  ard 
the  l  wo  upper  corners  of  the  fan.  so  as  to  form  pockets. 
When  living,  the  wind  tills  the  pockets  and  sustains  tin- 
kite.  This  style  of  kite  is  now  selling-  for  from  two  to 
live  cents  each.  For  a  face  band.  No.  i>.  shown  ill  the  ar- 
ticle of  last  week,  is  used. 

Fig.  -'  is  aiiot  her  new  style  of  (  'hinese  kite,  the  general 
shape  of  which  is  thai  of  a  banner.  The  frame  consists 
of  four  very  thin  and  flat  pieces  of  split  bamboo,  which 
are  glued  to  the  back  of  the  kite.  The  face  of  this  tailless 
kite  is  concave;  t  his  concavity  is  produced  b\  a  cord  which 
is  lied  to  the  ends  of  the  hori/ontal  strips  of  bamboo,  and 
then  tightened.  For  this  kite  No.  5  face-band  is  used. 

The  round  fan  kite  i  Fig.  .'!)  consists  of  an  ordinary  Jap- 
anese fan,  the  bamboo  handle  of  which  has  been  cut  away, 
so  as  to  make  it  ver\  light.  This  kite  requires  a  strong 
wind  and  plenty  of  tail.  Face-band  No.  3  is  used. 

Fig.  1  is  a  banneret  kite.  The  frame  consists  of  two 
sticks,  the  upright  one  being  the  stoutest  and  the  cross 
stick  the  thinnest.  The  frame  cord  starts  from  near  the 
right-hand  end  of  the  cross  slick,  and  passes  through  a 
deep  notch  in  the  lower  end  of  the  upright  stick.  It  is 
then  brought  up.  and  is  securely  fastened  near  the  left- 
hand  end  of  the  cross  stick. 

The  upright  staff  of  the  banneret  is  ornamented  with 
a  small  silver  paper  star.  It  is  strengthened  by  two 
cords,  which  are  fastened  just  below  the  star  and  to  the 
cross  stick.  To  each  end  of  the  cross  stick  is  attached  a 
bunch  of  very  narrow  tissue-paper  streamers.  The  frame 
of  this  kite  is  covered  with  white  paper,  on  which  is  paint- 
ed with  water-colors  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  as  shown  in 
the  figure.  For  this  kite  face-band  No.  3  is  best.  Fig.  5 
is  a  single  and  very  long  streamer  t'nioii  shield  kite, 
which  is  constructed  oil  the  same  principle  as  the  shield 
kite  described  last  week. 

Fig.  3  is  the  "champion  American  kite"  in  all  respects, 
it  being  the  highest  flier  and  the  best  behaved  when  care- 
fully balanced  in  all  its  parts,  and  will  remain  motionless 
in  the  air  for  hours  at  a  time.  Its  proportions  are  grace- 
ful, and  will  admit  of  a  great  deal  of  ornamentation. 

The  frame  of  this  kite  contains  two  long  and  one  short 
and  light  cross  stick.  The  three  sticks  are  so  arranged 
that  they  cross  one  another  at  three  different  points.  In 
this  way  greater  strength  and  solidity  are  obtained  in  the 
frame,  and  the  sticks  can  be  much  lighter  than  when  they 
all  cross  at  one  point,  as  is  the  case  with  all  three-sticked 


492 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


FIG.  I. 

store  kites.  To  tlie  outer  frame  cord  red,  white,  and  blue 
tissue-paper  fringing  is  attached,  and  on  the  inner  frame 
cord  is  pasted  the  red,  white,  and  blue  tissue-paper  cover- 
ing of  the  kite.  The  pennant  staff  consists  of  a  very  thin 
strip  of  bamboo,  and  is  tied  to  the  cross  stick  and  to  the  two 

frame  cords.  It 
is  also  braced  with 
two  cords,  which 
are  fastened  near 
the  pennant  and 
to  the  upper  ends 
of  the  long  sticks. 
For  this  kite  face- 
bands  Nos.  1  and 
2  are  used. 

When  making 
and  flying  kites 
the  following  sug- 
gestions will  be 
found  useful :  The 
tailless  Japanese 
and  Chinese  kites 
are  for  light 
winds;  for  strong 
winds  they  need 
tails.  For  past- 
ing, boiled  flour 
paste  is  best,  and 
the  less  paste  used 
Via.  a.  on  a  kite  the  bet- 

ter.   There  should 

be  as  little  pasting-dowii  margin  as  possible,  as  a  perfect 
kite  should  combine  great  lightness  with  strength. 

The  covering  of  a  kite  can  be  made  water-proof  and 
transparent  by  applying  cheap  furniture  varnish  that  lias 
been  thinned  down  with  spirits  of  turpentine,  or  by  ap- 
plying a  coat  of  hot  parafflne;  the  paper  then  becomes  the 
so-called  "waxed  paper" 
used  by  confectioners. 

When  attaching  the  cap- 
tive cord  to  the  face-band,  re- 
member that  it  must  be  so 
placed  as  to  hold  the  kite  in 
the  teeth  of  the  wind;  also 
test  thoroughly  every  tie  of 
the  face-band,  so  as  to  avoid 
slip  -  ties  and  slip  -  knots. 
When  selecting  thread  or 
twine  for  the  captive  cord 
always  choose  that  which  is 
the  lightest,  strongest,  and 
most  closely  twisted,  as  the 
constant  winding  and  uii- 
•windmg  will  soon  tell  upon  FIB.  3. 


any  but  the  best  quality. 
A  good  way  to  preserve  the 
cord  is  to  give  it  a  light 
coat  of  melted  parafflne; 
this  will  hold  it  togeth- 
er and  preserve  it  from 
dampness.  But  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  tlie 
kite  has  to  sustain  the 
weight  of  the  captive  cord, 
and  that  when  it  becomes 
too  heavy  it  sags  and 
bears  the  kite  down. 

I  have  found  some  of 
the  American  sewing-ma- 
chine threads  just  the 
thing  for  medium  -  sized 
kites.  Some  of  these 
threads  are  to  be  had  on 
single  spools  of  a  length 
of  two  thousand  four  hun- 
dred yards.  For  large 
kites  carpet  thread  and  up- 
holsterers' twine  are  the 
best.  It  is  always  the  saf- 
est rule  when  kite-mak- 
ing to  tie  with  fine  silk 
thread  all  parts  of  the 


FIG.  5. 

bam  boo  fish  ing-rods.  From 
these  can  be  obtained  va- 
rious lengths  of  bamboo 
which  they  have  no  use 
for,  and  any  of  them  will 
sell  for  fifty  cents  an  entire 
but  slightly  worm  -  eaten 
pole,  which  will  make  ex- 
cellent kite  sticks.  When 
shaping  the  sticks  for  the 
frame  always  make  them 
flat,  so  that  when  bound  to- 
gether they  will  not  slip,  as 
will  round  sticks.  When 
using  bamboo  the  projec- 
tions of  the  joints  should  be 
sand  -  papered  down.  The 
straig'htness  of  all  sticks 
should  be  constantly  tested 
on  a  level  surface. 


Fio.  4. 

frame  of  a  kite  that  cross 
one  another,  and  to  also 
apply  a  small  quantity  of 
hot  glue  to  the  ties.  The 
covering  of  a  kite  will 
never  become  baggy  if  the 
frame  is  held  together 
firmly  by  the  ties  and  the 
frame  cord. 

The  best  parties  to  ap- 
ply to  for  bamboo  cane  are 
the  dealers  and  makers  of 


FIG.  0. 


JUNE  5,  1883. 


PKOI'I.K. 


41)3 


MIXING  TIIK 

I!V    AUNT    MAHJOHIE    I'  l(  K  ( '  K  I'T. 

HOW  does  it  liappen  that  so  important  a  thing  as  the 
mixing  of  the  pudding  for  papa's  birthday  dinner  lias 
been  left  to  the  children?  Of  course  Ethel  and  Susie  h;ivr 
tried  their  skill  in  making  some  of  the  nice  cakes  for  which 
receipts  have  been  given  in  the  Post-ollice  Box,  and  have 
succeeded  very  well;  hut  a  birthday  dinner,  and  in  pupa's 
honor,  too,  is  a  great  event.  No  wonder  that  Gertrude  is 
interested  ami  anxious,  and  even  little  Tina  has  crept  down 
from  the  nursery  and  perched  herself  on  the  table,  ready 
to  give  her  advice.  It  would  be  dreadful  to  spoil  a  birth- 
day pudding. 

By  the  time  you  are  as  old  as  Aunt  Marjorie,  dears,  you 
will  have  learned  never  to  be  surprised  at  anything,  how- 
ever unexpected.  That  Bridget's  second  cousin's  wife's 
sister  should  arrive  from  Ireland  this  very  morning,  and 
there  being  nobody  in  the  world  but  Bridget  to  go  and 
meet  her  at  Castle  Garden,  and  that  mamma  should  be 
seized  with  one  of  her  worst,  most  blinding  headaches  just 
when  she  felt  as  though  she  had  not  a  moment  to  spare, 
and  could  not  be  ill,  would  have  been  astonishing,  I  own, 
if  things  did  not  often  turn  out  in  precisely  that  way. 

"  Perfect  quiet  in  a  darkened  room  will  cure  me,  daugh- 
ter," said  mamma  to  Ethel,  "and  if  Bridget  does  not  re- 
turn in  time,  Norah  can  cook  some  sort  of  a  dinner.  We'll 
put  off  the  pudding,  and  have  it  to-morrow,  and  somebody 
may  go  to  the  baker's  for  a  pie.'' 

To  the  baker's  for  a  pie !  Susie  said  she  thought  that 
would  be  disgraceful,  and  Ethel  and  Gertrude  agreed  with 
her.  So  they  resolved  to  steal  around  like  mice,  on  tip- 
toes, and  make  a  magnificent  pudding,  and  amaze  mamma. 

"  Pleathe  poor  mamma!"  said  lisping  Tina. 


"  Indeed  it  will,"  answered  capable  Ethel. 

A  good  cook  once  told  me  that  she  would  rather  make 
nine  puddings  than  one  pie.  I  believe  I  would  myself, 
for  pie-crust  is  such  a  dainty  thing  to  manage. 

These  little  K'irls  were  always  very  neat  about  their 
cooking,  so  you  may  !>e  sure  they  washed  their  hands  and 
slipped  on  clean  aprons  before  they  began  their  work. 
Then  they  brought  their  suet,  their  eggs,  their  sugar,  and 
their  molasses,  and  arranged  them  all  on  the  table,  so  that, 
they  needed  to  take  no  extra  steps.  Norah  came  down 
and  coaxed  the  range  fire  into  burning  splendidly,  and  so 
the  small  cooks  were  saved  from  one  great  worry.  So 
much  depends  upon  dampers  and  ovens,  you  know! 

As  they  were  to  steam  their  pudding,  Norah  set  the 
steamer  on  for  them,  and  told  them  to  be  careful  to  butter 
the  mould  well,  so  that  when  done  the  pudding  would  not 
stick  fast,  but  would  come  out  smooth  and  whole. 

Tina  and  Gertrude  stoned  the  raisins,  Susie  measured 
the  sugar,  and  Ethel  mixed  the  mass.  This  was  the  re- 
ceipt they  used  (they  found  it  in  one  of  mamma's  books) : 

"One  cupful  of  suet  chopped  fine,  one  cupful  of  mo- 
lasses, one  cupful  of  sweet  milk,  one  cupful  of  raisins,  one 
tea-spoonful  of  salt,  one  small  tea-spoonful  of  soda  mixed 
iii  the  molasses,  three  and  a  half  cupfuls  of  flour." 

For  the  sauce,  when  the  pudding  was  done,  they  stirred 
to  a  cream  a  half-cupful  of  butter  and  a  cupful  of  sugar; 
they  added  the  white  of  an  egg  beaten  to  a  froth,  a  half- 
tea-spooiiful  of  vanilla,  and  a  cupful  of  boiling  water 
thickened  with  a  tea-spoonful  of  corn  starch  dissolved  in. 
a  little  cold  water.  This  was  allowed  to  come  to  the  boil, 
and  was  taken  off  to  serve  with  the  pudding. 

Mamma's  head  was  well  by  the  time  dinner  was  ready, 
and  papa  said  he  was  very  proud  of  his  clever  little  daugh- 
ters. The  pudding  was  excellent. 


494 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


LITTLE  MAID  MARY. 

BE  wary,  be  chary, 
My  little  maid  Mary, 

For  bees  sometimes  hide  in  the  cups  of  the  flow- 
ers ; 

So  step  you  quite  lightly. 
And  peep  you  quite  brightly. 
Whenever  you  pluck  pretty  buds  from  the  bow- 
ers. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

ALLEGHENY  CITY,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS. — I  read  with  great  interest 
the  lettering  recent  number  from  Sister  Florence 
telling  about  her  school-room  in  the  sunny  South, 
and  I  think  our  dear  little  friends  may  jike  to  hear 
about  a  school  I  visited  last  year  in  far-off  Afri- 
ca. I  was  spending  part  of  the  winter  in  Egypt, 
and  after  taking  a  lonjr,  delightful  trip  up  the 
River  Nile  as  far  as  Nubia.  I  spent  several  weeks 
in  exploring  the  beautiful  city  of  Cairo  and  its 
environs.  I  think  I  must  have  been  everywhere 
—to  the  grand  old  Pyramids  (about  which  I  would 
like  to  tell  you  some  day),  to  the  mosques  and 
museum,  and  quaint  old  bazars  and  shops. 

But  one  day  I  was  invited  to  visit  the  Mission 
School  belonging  to  the  Board  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions of  the  United  Presbyterian  Church  in  Amer- 
ica. The  building  is  very  large,  containing  sev- 
enty-four rooms  and  a  chapel.  It  is  built  of  sand- 
stone, which,  of  course,  is  durable  only  in  a  dry 
climate  like  that  of  Egypt.  The  school  is  situ- 
ated ill  the  in-west  and  most  beautiful  part  of 
Cairo,  and  quite  near  the  hotel  at  which  I  was 
staying.  I  rang  the  door-bell,  which  was  quickly 
answered  by  an  Arab  boy,  whose  brown  skin 
looked  still  browner  in  contrast  with  his  white 
cotton  go\vn.  He  replied  to  our  inquiry  for  the 
ladies  in  English  pure  as  our  own,  and  led  the 
way  up  a  long  flight  of  stone  steps  to  a  cool, 
cheerful  sitting-room. 

Presently  Mrs.  II..  the  lady  missionary  at  the 
lu-ad  of  the  school,  and  Miss  C.,  one  of  the  teach- 
ers. .Mine  in,  ;nul  we  proceeded  on  our  tour  of 
inspection.  First  we  were  shown  the  dormito- 
ries, as  this  school  is  a  boarding-school  as  well  as 
a  day  school.  How  bright  and  fresh  everything 
looked  !  Eleven  little  white  beds  all  in  a  row; 
a  closet  beside  each,  where  the  child's  neatly 
folded  extra  garments  were  kept.  All  was  in 
such  perfect  order  that  I  thought  with  a  blush 
of  my  little  ones'  drawers  and  closets  at  home. 
The  school-rooms  and  arrangement  of  classes  re- 
minded me  very  much  of  the  public  schools  at 
home.  But  all  else  how  different !  There,  in st  end 
of  bright  little  white  faces.  I  saw  a  strange  assort- 
ment ot"  blaeU.  brown,  yellow,  and  white  faces 
look  ing  curiously  up  at  me  as  I  entered  the  room. 
Tile  boys  and  girls  occupied  separate  rooms,  and 
either  ail  American  lady  or  an  educated  native 
girl  had  charge  of  the  girls'  classes,  and  young 
i in  I  i\ -e  men  had  charge  of  the  boys'. 

I  asked  my  kind  missionary  friends  to  tell  me 
the  nationality  ot"  some  of  the  scholars. 

"  That  ehild,"  said  Mrs.  II..  pointing  to  a  dusky 
little  maiden  who  was  showing  all  her  pretty  lit- 
tle white  teeth  as  she  smiled  at  us,  "  is  a  pure  ne- 
gro. Her  parents  were  brought  from  Darfoor  as 
slaves,  but  now,  of  course,  they  are  free.  Behind 
her,"  continued  Mrs.  H.,  as  she  gave  an  admoni- 
tory shake  of  her  head  at  a  little  darky  who  was 
punching  her  neighbor,  "is  a  Nubian,  whose  skin 
is  quite  as  black  and  tier  features  almost  the  same 
as  the  first  child." 

Across  the  aisle  were  two  brown-skinned  little 
girls  with  large  almond-shaped  eyes,  straight 
noses,  and  wide  mouths.  These  were  Arabs,  na- 
tives of  Lower  Egypt.  In  another  room  we  found 
not  ouly  Nubians  aud  Arabs,  but  Copts  (.who  are 


the  descendants  of  the  ancient  Egyptians'),  Cir- 
cassians, Greeks,  Syrians,  and  Italians;  even  a 
few  French  and  German  children  were  there. 

Miss  T.  had  charge  of  the  English  class,  com- 
posed of  eight  or  nine  bright -looking  girls  of 
twelve  and  thirteen.  They  were  reciting  their 
grammar  lesson,  and  how  strange  the  familiar 
rules  sounded  coming  from  the  lips  of  those  dark- 
skinned  Egyptians,  bright-eyed  Greeks, and  fail- 
Circassians.  We  heard  a  class  of  little  boys  re- 
cite a  poem  in  Arabic.  Just  imagine  what  a  jum- 
ble of  sounds  it  was  to  us  !  But  they  seemed  to 
know  their  lesson  well,  and  the  teacher,  who  was 
a  fine  young  Arab,  editor  of  an  Arabic  newspa- 
per, looked  very  much  pleased  when  I  praised 
his  class  of  bright  little  boys. 

In  one  respect  the  little  Egyptian  school-chil- 
dren differ  very  much  from  American  boys  and 
girls ;  that  is.  they  never  wish  for  a  holiday.  The 
reason  for  this  is  that  the  poor  little  Egyptian 
children  .have  not  bright  happy  homes  to  go  to 
when  school  is  over,  and  no  toys  to  play  with  or 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  to  read.  Of  course  t  here 
are  a  few  who  belong  to  rich  families,  but  not 
many.  Most  of  them  nave  only  a  miserable  little 
house  in  the  close-crowded  part  of  the  city.  or.  if 
they  live  outside  of  the  town,  they  have  only  a 
little  hut  of  sun-dried  bricks  or  mud.  no  doors  or 
windows,  only  a  bole  by  which  to  crawl  in  and 
out.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the  little  ones  prefer 
staying  in  that  large  airy  building,  where  they 
are"  taken  care  of  and  taught  to  read  the  Bible 
and  to  sew  by  the  dear  kind  missionaries,  who 
have  left  their  home  and  friends  to  tell  these  lit- 
tle children  about  our  dear  Saviour,  and  teach 
them  to  become  honest  Christian  men  and  wo- 
men. 

I  hope,  dear  Postmistress,  you  will  not  find  this 
letter  too  long  for  the  Post-office  Box.  I  so  dear- 
ly love  the  little  friends  who  write  that  I  often 
wish  to  tell  them  of  some  of  the  wonderful  things 
1  have  seen  in  far-away  corners  of  the  world. 

EDITH  McC. 

Our  kind  correspondent  has  sent  us  a  letter 
which  is  not  merely  entertaining,  but  also  in- 
structive. Wre  will  all  be  glad  to  hear  from  her 
again  at  some  time  in  the  future,  when  she  shall 
feel  like  taking  up  her  pen  for  the  thousands  of 
little  readers  who  look  for  bright  things  in  the 
Post-office  Box. 

UPPER  NOR\VOOD,  LONDON,  ENGLAND. 

I  am  a  little  American  girl  eleven  years  old, 
living  at  present  in  London,  near  the  Crystal  Pal- 
ace, but  I  expect  to  goto  America  again  in  a  few 
weeks  to  live,  and  I  am  very  glad.  I  spent  the 
whole  of  last,  winter  in  Berlin,  and  enjoyed  it 
very  much.  I  have  two  darling  little  nieces  here 
for  pets — one  two  and  a  half  years  and  the  other 
eight  months  old— and  think  they  are  the  nicest 
pets  in  the  world. 

I  have  had  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  from  the 
beginning  of  its  publication.  My  brother  takes 
it  for  me.  This  is  the  first  letter  I  have  ever  writ- 
ten to  you,  and  I  hope  to  see  it  printed.  Have 
any  of  the  girls  and  boys  who  read  tills  paper  ever 
tried  to  write  a  little  story,  all  the  words  begin- 
ning with  the  same  letter?  I  have  made  one, 
which  I  send  you.  MAUD  A.  C.  T. 

Thanks  for  your  letter,  dear,  and  for  the  little 
story,  which  is  very  clever.  I  am  sorry  there  is 
not  room  to  spare  for  it  as  well  as  for  your  letter. 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  of  a  very 
funny  thing  a  little  girl  said  while  visiting  us.  Her 
name  was  Daisy,  and  she  was  four  years  old.  and 
my  young  sister,  who  was  making  her  repeat  all 
the  difficult  words  she  could  think  of,  asked  her 
to  sav  Christopher  Columbus. 

"oh  no."  said  Daisy. 

"  Why  not.  dear?"  I  said. 

".My  mamma  says  I  mustn't  say  naughty 
words." 

We  all  laughed  very  much.  Poor  little  Daisy 
could  not  understand  why  so  difficult  a  word 
was  not  naughty. 

My  sister,  who  is  fourteen,  takes  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  although  I  am  nearly  eight- 
een I  sometimes  find  very  interesting  reading  in 
it.  Perhaps  some  of  the  young  readers  would 
like  to  make  a  fancy  screen,  which  is  very  pretty 
for  either  the  play-room  or  the  nursery,  so  I  will 
tell  them  how.  Get,  a  small-sized  clothes-horse, 
and  cover  with  unbleached  muslin  tacked  tightly 
across;  then  paste  on  in  pretty  designs  colored 
cards  and  pictures  according  to  the  taste.  If 
prettily  and  artistically  arranged,  this  will  be 
found  'both  pretty  and  ornamental,  as  well  as  a 
pleasure  to  make.  Hoping  some  of  our  young 
people  will  try  it.  I  will  say  good-by  to  the'  Post- 
mistress and  the  little  ones  for  the  present. 

MARIE  D. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  receive  a  letter  from  one  of 
the  young  lady  readers  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  hap- 
pen to  know  that  the  paper  is  often  a  favorite 
with  the  older  sisters  and  brothers  of  those  who 
take  it,  and  with  reason,  for  in  every  number 
there  are  likely  to  be  found  articles  adapted  to 
please  matllrer  tastes,  as  well  as  to  gratify  the 
children.  Thanks  for  your  idea  of  a  simple  and 
pretty  screen.  Do  you  know  what  I  found  a  read- 


er  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  doing  the  other  day  ?  Paper- 
ing his  room  with  choice  pictures  selected  from 
illustrated  papers.  If  boys  and  girls  who  are  do- 
ing anything  of  this  kind  will  write  and  tell  of 
their  success  I  will  be  delighted. 


A  GREAT  SENSATION. 
"Why  all  these  smiling  faces,  pray — 

Why  all  this  clapping  noise  1  hear? 
Explain  this  mystery  quick  to  me  ; 

Ah!  here  comes  one. — explain  it,  dear." 

"  Why,  Auntie  Ethel,  can't  you  guess 
What  makes  our  faces  beam  with  joy? 

HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— nothing  less. 
Who  brought  it? — why,  dear  Uncle  Roy." 

"Keep  on,  keep  on,  my  children  dear, 
Enjoy  the  paper  Heaven's  sent  down  ; 

Many  a  wrinkle  it  will  scare 
From  little  faces  rosy  and  brown." 

HATTIE  A.  T.  K. 


DRIFTOX,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

We  had  a  cyclone  here  yesterday.  Our  coal- 
breakers,  the  old  one  and  the  new  one,  were 
blown  down,  and  two  men  were  killed.  One  was 
a  Hungarian,  who  was  at  the  dump.  A  mine  boss 
says  he  saw.  as  he  came  out  of  the  slope,  the 
breaker  lifted  and  pitched  over.  A  breaker  is 
a  huge,  queer-looking  building  for  breaking  the 
anthracite  coal  into  various  sizes;  it  is  full  of 
machinery,  and  costs  many  thousands  of  dollars. 
But  what  we  were  most  frightened  about  was 
that  the  old  breaker  was  full  of  men  and  boys 
picking  slate,  and  we  thought  they  all  must  be 
Killed  ;  but  fortunately  they  had  warning  enough 
to  escape.  We  never  saw  such  a  storm  in  the 
coal  region. 

I  am  an  old  correspondent,  though  only  ten 
yeurs  old.  Good-by.  ECKLEY  B.  C.,  JUN. 

Few  things  are  so  terrible  as  a  cyclone.  I  hope 
you  may  never  see  another. 


STAR  POINT,  LOUISIANA. 

Would  you  like  to  hear  from  a  reader  in  the 
far  South?  We  have  enjoyed  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
since  it  was  first  published.  We  had  a  pet  deer, 
but  he  got  so  bad.  eating  the  cotton  and  corn, 
that  papa  had  to  kill  him.  We  have  a  little  wren 
that  is  building  its  nest  in  our  work-basket ;  it  is 
almost  like  a  pet.  Dear  Postmistress,  will  you 
not  have  a  good  picture  taken  of  yourself  and 
put  it  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE?  My  father  is  a  large 
farmer:  he  raises  cotton  and  corn.  We  live  on 
the  bank  of  Red  River.  Mamma  is  afraid  that 
you  will  think  she  is  not  very  industrious,  with  a 
bird's  nest  in  her  work-basket ;  but  she  is  busy 
with  her  flowers  and  garden.  Please  publish  this 
for  me,  as  it  is  my  first.  Good-by. 

Your  little  friend.  ABRIE  M. 

If  a  wren  should  compliment  me  by  building 
her  nest  in  my  work-basket,  I  would  certainly  let 
her  stay  there  in  peace.  But  if  she  took  a  fancy 
to  the  Post-office  Box,  I  would  be  compelled  to 
say  : 

"  Fly  away,  birdie  ! 

Now  fly  away  quick  ! 
For  letters  are  coming 

Like  rose  petals  thick  ; 
And  the  children  would  scold 
should  the  Postmistress  say, 
'I  can't  read  your  letters, 
A  wren's  here  at  play.' " 

Dear  child,  don't  you  know  that  you  can  make 
a  much  nicer  picture  of  a  friend  out  of  sight  by 
just  fancying  how  she  looks,  than  the  sun  would 
give  you  if  the  friend  should  have  her  photo- 
graph taken?  I  always  fancy  that  I  know  my 
children  when  I  read  their  dear  little  notes ;  and 
if  I  were  to  step  into  the  veranda  some  morning 
I  think  I  could  find  out  which  was  Abbie,  without 
making  a  mistake. 


NB\V  YORK  CITY. 

I  am  fourteen  years  old.  I  have  written  once 
before  to  the  Post-office  Box,  but  my  letter  was 
not  published;  but  I  believe  in  the  motto  that 
"if  at  first  you  don't  succeed,  try,  try  again."  I 
send  you  a  few  violets,  the  first  of  the  season, 
which  were  sent  to  us  by  my  sister  from  Ely, 
Vermont ;  so  you  see  they  have  come  a  long  dis- 
tance. I  have  been  going  to  boarding-school  in 
Toronto;  our  school  was  called  Ifolleston  House  : 
perhaps  some  of  the,  little  Canadian  readers  may 
know  of  it.  I  have  also  been  in  San  Francisco. 
ami  have  been  to  Woodard's  Garden,  and  remem- 
ber many  things  which  Edith  V.  I),  speaks  of.  I 
have  a  cousin  in  Toronto,  who  takes  this  paper, 
whom  we  all  call  Baby  Nick,  but  her  name  is 
Ettie  N.  I  hope  she  will  see  this,  if  published. 

PEPPIE  M. 

The  violets  were  beautifully  pressed,  and  I 
have  laid  them  between  the  leaves  of  a  book  I 
often  read. 


ALBANY,  WISCONSIN. 

T  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  go  to  school 
—that  is,  when  1  am  well  enough  to  do  so.  I 
have  no  pets,  as  the  other  boys  who  write  have, 
but  1  once  had  several.  The  first  was  a  dog,  which 


.HAK  .•>,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


495 


came  to  us.  and  finally  he  ran  off.  Then  another 
dog  came-,  and  lie  was  killed  ;  and  then  I  had  a 
cat,  and  he  ran  off.  I  ean  hardly  wait  from  one 
Wednesday  to  another  for  my  paper.  I  liked  the 
"Cruise  of  tin-  canoe  Club,"  "Mr.  Stubbs's  Bro- 
ther," and  "  Nan."  My  motto  is  "  Less  talk  and 
more  work."  ' '  J.  T. 

NEWAIIK,  NEW  JERSEY. 

Having  seen  so  many  nice  letters  in  our  Post- 
office  Box,  May  and  I  thought  we  would  write 
also,  and  hope  to  see  it  in  print.  We  think  that 
Yoi-xii  PEOPLE  is  the  jolliest  paper  out,  and  only 
wish  it  were  three  times  larger.  \Ve  have  a  (tar- 
den,  and  intend  to  raise  tomatoes,  potatoes, 
pease,  radishes,  lettuce,  onions,  and  catnip.  May 
we  join  the  Little  Housekeepers  V  We  inclose  a 
receipt  for  corn-meal  cakes,  and  also  some  puz- 
zles. Will  the  Postmistress  kindly  tell  us  when 
modern  sewing-needles  came  into  use? 

MAY  E.  H.,  and  NOUNOW  A.  L. 

Ymi  will  liml  the  receipt  printed  in  the  next  col- 
umn. Needlesofsteelwerebrought  fromspainto 
England  in  1  In -days  of  CJueen  Elizabeth ;  uiul  you 
may  be  surprised  to  learn  that  these  useful  and 
delicate  little  tools  of  the  housewife  actualh  pa" 
through  one  hundred  and  twenty  hands  before 
they  are  ready  for  a  lady's  work-basket.  The 
needle  itself  is  very  ancient,  and  made  of  ivory, 
wood,  or  bone,  it  was  used  in  India,  China,  Africa, 
and,  in  fact,  everywhere,  long  before  Europe  be- 
came civilized.  

FRA\KTO\V\,  N'KV*r>A. 

We  have  an  aquarium  with  two  gold  fish  in  it. 
We  have  a  great  many  flowers.  The  mountains 
around  here  an  very  steep.  My  brother  lienry 
ha-  two  telegraph  instrument-;  my  brothers 
practiee  telegraphy  every  night,  I  have  l"iir 
brothers  and  two  sisters.  The  stories  I  like 
best  an-  "  Toby  Tyler."  "  Xan."  and  "  Raising  the 
'Pearl.'"  We  live  within  one  and  one  hall  miles 
of  the  railroad.  1  would  like  to  see  your  build- 
ing very  much.  I  was  twelve  years  old  on  tin' 
6th  of  April.  We  have  a  rooster  named  Toby 
Tyler.  ALBKIIT  L. 

One  of  these  days  you  may  visit  New  York,  aud 
if  so,  you  must  come  to  Franklin  Square. 


PLYMOUTH,  Wisi  -n^is. 

I  am  four  years  old.  Papa  ami  mamma  cull  me 
Kef.  Papa  is  an  editor,  and  I  have  a  great  many 
books.  I  have  no  brother  or  sister,  and  mamma 
reads  to  me  a  great  deal.  I  like  Yoi  NO  I'KOPI.E 
very  much.  I  have  a  cat  by  the  name  ot "i.anli. •  ; 
he  was  given  to  me  by  a  dear  friend.  I  have  1411 
picture  cards.  I  am  printing  this  letter  myself. 
Mamma  tells  me  how  to  spell  most  of  I  he  words. 
With  love.  REGINALD  A.  W. 

The  dear  little  man  printed  every  wonl  of  this 
himself  in  such  beautiful  plain  letters  as  it  did 
me  good  to  see. 

<_'AMBKIr>GEBOROl;<!H,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

DEAH  POSTMISTRESS, — I  send  you  by  this  mail  a 
specimen  ot  eoial  from  the  cave  of  which  I  told 
you  in  No.  188,  also  a  pebble  from  the  Pacific 
Ocean  for  your  cabinet.  \Ve  had  a  dreadful 
fright  the  time  of  the  floods  in  Ftbruary;  had  to 
leave  the  house  where  we  then  lived  in  a  boat. 
The  water  was  three  feet  deep  in  the  first  floor. 
We  now  live  in  my  mamma's  old  home,  and  the 
house  where  I  was  born.  I  went  from  hen'  to 
the  Pacific  coast  and  back  before  I  was  a  year 
old,  and  have  since  lived  in  Minnesota,  Nevada, 
California,  and  Arizona.  Don't,  you  think  we  are 
n-ed  to  living  on  the  cars?  My  brother  is  real 
siek  I  reai!  to  him,  and  I  dry  dishes,  peel  pota- 
toes, and  bring  in  wood  aud  waterfor  my  mamma. 
UEORGIE  B.  C. 

Thanks,  dear,  for  the  curious  specimens,  which 
arrived  in  safety.  I  hope  that  by  this  time  the 
little  brother  is  well.  I  am  glad  you  are  so  kind 
to  him.  That  proves  you  a  gentle  boy,  aud  gen- 
tle boys  make  gentlemen. 


THE  OCEAN'S  WONDERS— A  FAIRY'  TALE. 
It  was  a  lovely  morning  in  June,  and  little  1,'uth 
Staunton  sat  gazing  over  the  vessel's  side  into 
the  deep  bine  ocean.  Ruth  was  only  fourteen 
years  old.  and  was  going  to  England  with  her 
papa  and  mamma,  and  as  she  was  the  only  little 
girl  on  the  vessel,  she  was  often  to  be  found  sit- 
ting all  by  herself  in  a  cozy  corner  of  the  deck, 
watching  the  waves  as  they  splashed  and  dash- 
ed, making  a  pretty  white  foam  about  the  side 
of  tin-  vessel. 

"Oh  dear!"  she  exclaimed  aloud  to  herself  on 
this  particular  morning,  "  what  would  I  not  give 
to  take  a  trip  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and 
see  for  myself  all  the  wonderful  things  they  say 
are  there  !" 

"  Would  you  really  like  it':"  asked  a  sweet  lit- 
tle voice  at  her  elbow.  On  looking  up  she  beheld 
one  of  the  sweetest  little  creatures  she  had  ever 
seen.  Holding  out  her  hand,  she  said,  "Come 
with  me,  and  1  will  show  you  the  wonders  of  the 
ocean." 

Before  Ruth  had  time  to  think,  she  was  follow- 
ing her  little  guide  down,  down  to  the  very  depths 


of  the  ocean.  She  was  not  prepared  for  the  grand 
sights  which  everywhere  met  her.  Here  were 
trees  of  the  loveliest  hues  she  had  ever  seen,  and 
scattered  at  intervals  were  diamonds,  pearl-,  and 
various  other  jewels  in  the  form  of  shrubs  and 
plants.  Suddenly  they  came  to  a  most  beautiful 
range  of  blue  mountains,  and,  turning  swiftly 
round  the  corner  of  these,  a  splendid  castle  met 
Ruth's  astonished  eyes. 

"  This,"  said  her  little  companion, "  is  the  Ocean 
King's  palace.  Is  it  not  beautiful  :•" 

And  it  was  indeed  almost  too  grand  to  describe. 
The  castle  itself  was  built  of  coral,  beginning  with 
a  deep  crimson,  and  ending  at  the  top  in  a  most 
delicate  shade  of  pink.  The  doors  and  windows 
were  studded  with  jewels  of  every  description, 
and  the  conservatory  was  of  diamonds,  while  the 
flowers  within  were  the  loveliest  she  had  ever 
seen.  The  high  wall  which  surrounded  the  pal- 
ace was  composed  of  pearls  and  timiiioi-i  •-. 

In  and  out  of  the'  doors  and  windows  fluttered 
lovely  nymph-like  creatures,  their  great  beauty 
marred  only  by  their  having  tails  instead  of  feet 
and  limbs.  As  Kuth  reluetantly  followed  her 
guide  (who  had  now  beeome  the  same  as  the-e 
pretty  creatures)  past  this  gorgeous  palace  they 
came  to  the  ruins  of  a  large  vessel  that  had  late 
ly  been  lost.  This  was  the  only  part  of  her  irip 
Kuth  did  not  enjoy — to  wander  through  the  eab- 
ins  and  saloons  of  the  spacious  vessel,  seeing  ev- 
erywhere the  marks  of  the  ocean's  great  power. 
and  the  many  lives  that  had  there  been  lost,  a  ml 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  sadness  that,  she 
turned  away  and  again  followed  her  guide. 

Now  they  came  to  the  dwellings  of  the  poorer 
classes  of  mermaid^  :  tlie-e  were  ehietly  collates 
of  (lark  brow  n  coral  -ludded  here  and  there  w  ilh 
garnets.  The  mermaids  that  they  saw  here  were 
almost  similar  to  those  they  had  seen  al  the 
castle,  but  their  hair,  instead  of  being  rich  and 
luxuriant,  was  cut  close  to  their  heads:  for.  as 
the  little  guide  (whose  own  hair  was  flow  ing  far 
be\onil  her  taih  informed  Kuth.  the  ladies  had  it 
cut  to  make  wrappings  for  themselves  on  chilly 
days,  whieh  Ruth  thought  was  rather  selfish  of  the 
rich  lailies  who  had  so  much  hair  of  their  own. 

They  t  ravelled  mtieh  further,  seeing  many  more 
w let-fill  things.  Then  her  guide  told  Ruth  she 

mii-i  leave,  hoping  that  she  had  enjoyed  her  little 
trip,  and  satisfied  her  curiosity  Before  she  had 
time  to  thank  her  and  kiss  the  little  hand  she 
held  toward  her.  she  was  gone,  and  Ruth  found 
herself  once  more  in  her  cozy  seat  on  the  deck  of 
the  vessel,  wondering  if  all  -he  had  -eeii  was  true. 
or  if  it  had  been  a  dream 

Ruth  is  now  an  old  woman,  but  she  still  looks 
back  with  pleasure  on  her  wonderful  trip:  and 
ot  the  many  stories  she  tell-  her  little  grandchil- 
dren her  favorite,  as  well  as  theirs,  is  that  of  the 
"Ocean's  Wonders."  YIUUIK. 

Will  Nannie  D.,  of  <;reenville.  South  Carolina, 
oblige  the  Postmistress  by  sending  her  full  name  ? 


The  Postmistress  acknowledges  favors  from 
I'c-ri-)  s.,  L.  I,.  L.,  Kay  ('..  llnttic  31.,  Louie  I!., 
Mary  I!.,  It.  F.  >l.  ithanks,  dear,  for  your  violets), 
Knlie  I!..  Kiiiniii>  1)..  Itobi-rt  I'.  31..  Freddie  31.,  .Mil- 
lie (..  It.,  (.,rli  ml,,  ll..  1,1:,  M.  S.,  I.jdia,  Lizzie,  and 
I'lirrie  S..  Kachie  A.  ( '.,  Stanley  II..  ami  Nannie  K. 
She  only  wi-hes  she  could  invent  sunn-  way  of 
printing  these  letters,  every  one  of  them,  without 
taking  up  more  than  the  space  which  can  be  af- 
forded in  the  Post-office  Box. 


GOOD  RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  HOUSE- 
KEEPERS. 

CORN-MEAL  CAKES.— Take  a  quart  of  sweet  milk 
and  boil  with  half  a  cup  of  sugar  and  half  a  cup 
of  butter;  add  enough  Indian-corn  meal  to  make 
a  stiff  liatter;  beat  three  eggs  to  a  foam  ;  add  a 
pinch  of  salt,  and  bake  in  shallow  pans  for  half 
an  hour.  This  is  nice  for  tea  or  breakfast. 

BATTEH  PrmnNi;s.  BAKED.— One  quart  of  sifted 
flour,  butter  the  size  of  an  egg,  one  pint  of  milk, 
half  a  tea-spoonful  of  salt,  and  four  eggs;  scald 
the  milk,  and  melt  the  butter  in  it ;  when  pan  Iv 
cooled,  stir  in  the  yolks  of  the  eggs,  well  beaten', 
then  the  salt  and  flour;  when  quite  cold,  stir  in 
lightly  the  whites  of  the  eggs,  beaten  to  a  stiff 
froth  ;  bake  in  rather  large  patty  pans  ;  serve 
immediately  witli  a  sauce.  The  puddings  should 
be  light  puffs,  strawberry  sauce  is  especially  nice 
with  these  puddings. 

ROLLY-POLY  PUDDING,  BOILED. — Make  a  biscuit 
dough,  and  roll  it  out  into  a  square  about  a  fourth 
of  ah  inch  thick  ;  spread  over  it  (leaving  an  inch 
uncovered  at  tin'  edges)  almost  any  kind  of  fruit, 
or  berries,  such  as  strawberries,  raspberries,  etc., 
sweetened,  or  oreserves  ;  roll  it  tight;  sew  it 
in  a  cloth,  giving  room  for  it  to  swell;  boil  or 
steam  it  an  hour;  serve  with  almost  any  kind 
of  pudding  sauce.  A  niee  roily-poly  pudding  may 
be  made  with  sponge-cake  baked  in  sheets,  spread 
with  preserves  or  jelly,  rolled,  sprinkled  on  top 
with  sugar. and  served  wilh  wine  sauce. 

BAKED  BERRY  ROLLS. — Roll  biscuit  dough  thin, 
in  the  form  of  a  large  square,  or  into  small 
squares ;  spread  over  with  berries ;  roll  the  crust, 
and  put  the  rolls  into  a  dripping-pan  close  to- 
gether until  full :  then  put  into  the  pan  water, 
sugar,  and  pieces  of  butter;  bake  them;  serve 
any  of  the  pudding  sauces. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

TWO    ENIGMAS. 

1.  My  first  is  in  war,  but  not  in  strife. 

My  second  is  in  matron,  but  not  in  wife. 

My  third  is  ill  sigh,  but  not  in  moan. 

My  fourth  is  in  have,  but  not  in  own. 

My  fifth  is  in  evil,  but  not  in  bad. 

My  sixth  is  in  mournful,  but  not  in  sad. 

My  seventh  is  in  high,  but  not  in  tall. 

My  eighth  is  in  little,  but  not  in  small. 

My  ninth  is  in  colony,  not  in  state. 

My  tenth  is  in  destiny,  not  in  fate. 

My  whole,  with  its  letters  rightly  combined. 

Forms  the  name  of  the  wisest  and  best  of 

mankind.  G.  I.  W. 

S.  My  first  is  in  save,  but  not  in  spend. 

My  second  is  in  give,  but  not  in  lend. 

My  third  is  in  slow,  but  not  in  fast. 

My  fourth  is  in  calm,  also  in  blast. 

My  fifth  is  in  glen,  but  not  in  hill. 

My  sixth  is  in  rate,  but  not  in  bill. 

My  whole'  it  is  something  sweet  and  dear, 

For  which  we  look  in  the  spring  of  tbe  year. 
ALICE  B.  C. 

No.  S. 

A    KIDDLE. 

I  begin  every  effort,  and  end  every  scheme  ; 

I  am  w  ith  you  awake,  anil  1  glide  through  your 

dream  : 

I  terminate  hope,  and  am  found  too  in  fear ; 
I  end  every  smile,  form  a  part  of  each  fear. 
This  riddle,  I  know,  you  will  guess  with  all  ease, 
So  send  me  the  answer,  my  dears,  if  you  please. 
G.  I.  W. 

No.  3. 

NUMERICAL   ENIGMA. 

lam  a  quotation  from  a  poem  by  Thomas  Hood, 
and  1  consist  of  47  letters. 

My  '.i.  23,  37, 33, 34,  4,  41,  a  great  general  and  ad- 
vent urer. 

My  .'17.  45.  13.  the  first  name  of  a  noted  rebel  in 
t  he  reimi  of  Richard  II. 

My  10.  3.  19,  43, 1,30  were  used  to  bind  a  very 
st  n  >ng  man. 

My  14,  2.\  30,  something  that  Jumbo  loves. 

M>    in,  :!.-,,  43.  31.  ir,,a  well  known  Welshman. 

My  II.  3'.i.  I',.  •,'•'!.  the'  he. me  ot  a  celebrated  giant. 

My  •.»',,  H>.  4(i.  2K.  13.  a  character  ill  Jean/me. 

My*).  17, 36, 6,  a  maiden. 

My  3N.  31,  44,  a  lake  in  Scotland. 

My  3.  5,  8,  1,  20,  a  bird  commonly  called  the 

greelllet. 

My  IS,  34, 7,  the  present  time.  N.  B. 


No.  4. 

FOUR  EASY   DIAMONDS. 

I.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  A  general  of  the  Revolution- 
ary war.  3.  A  kind  of  boat  used  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean. 4.  A  fish.  5.  A  letter. 

2.— 1.  A  word.  2.  A  reptile.  3.  A  boy's  name. 
4.  A  utensil.  5.  A  letter.  • 

3.— 1.  A  letter.  2.  To  annex.  3.  A  serpent.  4. 
A  cage.  5.  A  letter. 

4. — 1.  In  serve.  2.  A  convulsion.  3.  A  serpent. 
4.  A  number.  5.  In  serve.  EUREKA. 


No.  5. 

REVERSIONS. 

1.  Reverse  a  heavenly  body,  and  get  small  ani- 
mals. 2.  Reverse  a  period,  and  get  to  send  forth. 
3.  Reverse  to  flourish,  and  get  calamity.  4.  Re- 
verse a  musical  pipe,  and  get  a  quadruped. 

A.  B.  C. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  Mo.  185. 

No.  1.  MARS 

DATE 
TOYS 
WOLF 
DALE 
OOZE 
W  R  E  N 
LEAD 
EARN 
LOSS 

No.  2.  Cuba. 

No.  3.  Flow — wolf.     Yam — May.     Room — moor. 
Nip— pin. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Alex.  Targee  Hequembourg,  IVaeoek.  Caro- 
line Jane  Lyman.  Willie  P.  Duncan.  Wid  Shirley 
Peebles,  Alice  B.  C.,  Edith  Fenner,  Nettie  Jnnge, 
Flora  Pollack,  Samuel  Branson.  Reggie  Thomson, 
liar.. Id  S.  Le  Baron.  Charles  He  caugue.  Eureka, 
Nameless  Knight.  White  Feather.  .Maud  S  Nick- 
erson.  Roy  Shultz.  Lulu  McNamara.  Smith  Tnttle, 
George  Wren.  Arnold  Van  Syse.  ( 'harlie  Fisher, 
Robbie  Craig,  Nelson  See,  Archie  Fleming,  Hugh 
McDonald,  Angle  Hart  lett,  A  my  A. .Elsie  Dee,  Mar- 
guerite, Daisy  Jackson,  Frances  (lark.  Alex.  V. 

McKee,  Halhert  Keifer,  Toi 1  Jennie,  Three 

Little  Cousins,  Dorothy  Fox,  and  R.  O.  C. 


(For  Exchanges,  see  2rf  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


496 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  MERCHANT  TRICK. 

BY  G.  B.  BARTLETT. 

THIS  is  a  very  amusing  game,  for  it  can  be  found  ont  quite 
easily  by  paying  close  attention,  and  as  its  secret  dawns 
upon  tlio  players  one  at  a  time  they  do  uot  fail  to  enjoy  the 
efforts  of  their  companions  to  discover  it  also.  The  players  sit 
in  chairs  placed  in  a  circle  around  the  room.  Several  of  them 
should  lie  already  familiar  with  the  trick,  so  that  their  correct 
answers  will  keep  up  the  interest  and  excite  the  curiosity  of  the 
less  fortunate. 

One  of  the  players  begins  by  turning  to  the  person  at  his  right, 
with  the  remark,  "  I  am  a  merchant."  The  player  addressed  re- 
plies with  the  inquiry,  '-What  do  you  sell?"  He  then  names 
some  article,  as  chair,  table,  nail,  tack,  sofa,  hair.  The  next 
player  then  in  his  turn  informs  the  player  on  his  right  hand  in 
tlic  same  words,  "I  am  a  merchant,"  and  replies  to  the  inquiry 
"What  do  you  sell?''  with  the  name  of  something  which  lie 


guesses  may  be  the  proper  article.  The  leader,  he  who  begins 
the  game,  will  probably  inform  the  player  that  his  guess  is  in- 
correct. The  next  player  then  takes  his  turn,  and  he  too  will 
probably  be  informed  that  his  guess  is  not  correct.  This 
seems  surprising,  as  he  will  often  try  without  success  the 
very  same  articles  which  have  been  found  to  be  correct  when 
mentioned  by  some  of  the  knowing  ones. 

Profiting  by  each  other's  mistakes,  the  trial  goes  merrily 
on,  and  many  ways  arc  tried  to  discover  the  process  upon 
which  the  knowing  ones  are  working.  They  try  the  initials 
of  their  names  and  man}'  other  devices,  and  carefully  watch 
the  manner  of  asking  and  answering  the  questions. 

After  puzzling  long  enough  they  are  somewhat  mortified 
to  learn  that  the  answer  is  correctly  given  only  when  the 
article  named  is  touched  with  the  left  hand  of  the  person  who 
is  naming  it.  A  little  ingenuity  will  enable  the  player  to 
touch  a  great  many  objects  without  exciting  much  attention  ; 

but  as  the  game  goes  on,  and  the  manner  of  playing  begins  to  be 

suspected,  more  cautiou  is  ueeded. 


A  BATTLE  IN  THE  GRASS. 

A  FIGHT  between  a  rattlesnake  and  a  black  snake  was  re- 
cently witnessed  near  Fort  Worth.  The  black  snake  forced 
the  fighting,  gliding  around  in  swift  circles,  while  the  rattlesnake 
lay  coiled.  The  circles  grew  smaller,  and  the  rattlesnake  ap- 
peared confused  as  the  black  snake  drew  closer.  His  rattles 
ceased  to  give  out  their  usual  sharp  sound,  and  his  head  dropped 
as  it'  vertigo  was  seizing  him.  The  black  snake  seized,  by  a 
lightning  movement,  the  rattler  by  the  throat,  and,  winding 
about  him,  the  two  rolled  over  and  over  together.  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  rattlesnake  ceased  to  breathe.  An  exiuuiuation  of 
the  dead  body  of  the  rattlesnake  revealed  a  fracture  in  the  spiue 
as  complete  as  if  done  by  a  blow  with  a  club.  The  rattlesnake 
measured  five  feet  and  three  inches. 


THE    LITTLE   HOUSEKEEPERS. 


IIHARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IT.— NO.  189. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday.  June  12, 1883. 


Copyright,  1893,  by  HAEFEK  A  BKOTHBHS. 


S1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


open.  I  wonder;"  exclaimed  Giis,  indig- 
nantly. "  It's  a  shame!  they'll  yive  my 
pony  cold." 

"And  where  /'.s  the  pony  ?"  said  Har- 
ry.  peeping  over  his  shoulder. 

"Gone:"   exclaimed    Gns.   in    a 
startled  voice,  as  he  entered 
the  buildin-r. 

"But  where?"  ask- 
ed Hurry,  look- 
ing  around. 

I 
^ 


, 

i      '  , 

• 


"FEISKY;" 

OR,  GUS  AXDREWS'S  REVEXGE. 
BY  JULIA  K.  HILDRETH. 

IF  you  make  haste,  Harry,  we 
can  harness  the  pony  and 
ride  ten   miles   and   back  before 
tea,"  said  Gus  Andrews,  running 
toward  the  stable. 

"I  am  ready,  Gus,"  answered 
Harry. 

"Who    left    the    stable    door 


498 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"See  here,  Gus,  these  must  be  his  tracks,  leading  toward 
old  Mr.  Beggs's  garden." 

"Are  you  looking  for  your  new  pony,  Gus  ?"  said  a  rag- 
ged little  urchin,  who  had  been  watching  them  from  the 
road. 

"Yes,"  answered  Gus,  turning  around  quickly.  "Do 
you  know  anything  about  him  ?" 

"I  saw  old  Miser  Beggs  larruping  him  like  fun  all 
around  his  door-yard  this  morning.  My !  how  Frisky  did 
hop  and  kick !  But  old  Beggs  caught  him  at  last,  and  shut 
him  up  in  his  barn,  and  there  he  is  now,  I  think,"  said  the 
little  fellow,  as  he  walked  away. 

"Well,  if  that  is  not  too  bad!"  grumbled  Harry. 
"  What  will  you  do  now,  Gus  ?" 

"  Why,  go  after  him  at  once,"  answered  Gus.- 

As  the  boys  approached  Mr.  Beggs's  house,  which  was 
close  by  their  own,  a  small  wrinkled  old  man  came  out 
of  the  gate,  leading  a  beautiful  bay  pony.  The  pony 
seemed  very  much  subdued,  and  walked  with  his  head 
down.  It  was  the  truant  Frisky.  Gus  ran  up  to  the  old 
man,  and  said,  politely: 

"Mr.  Beggs,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  how 
much  damage  Frisky  has  done,  and  let  me  pay  for  it,  and 
take  him  home  ?  I  promise  he  shall  not  trouble  you  again. " 

"Get  out  of  my  way,  boy,"  snarled  the  old  man. 
"You  can  pay  the  pound-master  fur  him,  'cause  that's 
where  he's  agoin'.  It's  the  law,  you  know,  and  I  sha'ii't 
break  the  law  fur  nobody." 

"Please,  Mr.  Beggs,"  pleaded  Gus,  "let  me  have  my 
pony.  They  will  starve  him,  I  know,  at  the  pound." 

"He's  'most  starved  a'ready,"  chuckled  the  old  man. 
"But  it  will  do  him  good,  and  take  some  of  the  nasty 
tricks  out  of  him." 

Frisky  turned  his  head  and  tried  to  pull  away  from  Mr. 
Beggs  at  the  sound  of  his  master's  voice,  but  the  old  man 
struck  him  several  blows  with  a  knotted  stick  which  he 
carried,  and  the  pony  became  quiet  again,  and  followed 
him  dejectedly. 

"Stop  beating  my  pony!"  screamed  Gus,  in  a  rage,  as 
he  saw  the  stick  fall  upon  Frisky 's  sleek  sides.  "I'll  be 
even  with  you — see  if  I  don't." 

He  was  so  angry  that  he  stamped  his  feet,  and  shook 
his  clinched  fist  furiously  after  old  Mr.  Beggs.  Then,  as 
soon  as  the  pony  and  his  jailer  were  out  of  sight,  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  ground  and  cried  aloud.  Harry  tried 
to  comfort  him,  but  in  vain. 

"  He  will  starve,"  sobbed  Gus.  "Father  will  not  be 
home  in  time  to  get  him  out  this  evening,  for  they  close 
the  pound  at  six,  and  I  don't  know  what  may  happen  to 
poor  Frisky  before  morning." 

"I  think  they  will  take  good  care  of  him,  Gus.  Come 
home  with  me  and  try  my  new  scroll-saw,  and  forget 
poor  Frisky  until  to-morrow." 

"I  can't,"  replied  Gus.      " It's  no  use." 

The  two  boys  sat  talking  until  the  short  afternoon  was 
over  and  it  began  to  grow  dark.  Then  they  walked  slow- 
ly homeward.  Their  houses  stood  side  by  side,  only  sep- 
arated by  a  small  garden.  As  Harry  bade  his  friend  good- 
by,  he  said, 

"Don't  fret,  Gus.  it  will  be  all  right  to-morrow." 

"I  hope  so,"  answered  Gus;  "but  I  know  I'd  like  to 
beat  that  miserly  old  mummy  to  a  jelly." 

After  tea  Gus  went  to  his  own  room  and  tried  to  read,  but 
he  could  think  of  nothing  but  Frisky,  and  how  to  revenge 
himself  upon  Mr.  Beggs,  or  Miser  Beggs,  as  the  children 
called  him.  The  old  man  lived  all  alone  in  a  half-ruined 
little  cottage  that  stood  at  a  short  distance  from  Gus  An- 
drews's  home.  He  was  supposed  to  have  a  great  quantity 
of  money  hidden  in  various  nooks  and  corn ers  of  his  dwell- 
ing. But  he  himself  declared  that  he  was  so  poor  that  he 
expected  to  die  in  the  work-house.  As  he  was  very  ill- 
natured,  and  seemed  to  dislike  everybody,  he  was  shunned 
by  all.  He  had  no  companion  but  a  poor  one-eyed  dog. 


almost  as  disagreeable  as  his  master,  and  who.  like  him, 
appeared  to  take  delight  in  snapping  and  snarling  at  every 
one.  This  dog  was  named  Cyclops,  and  was  the  terror 
of  the  neighborhood. 

Gus  remained  up  until  he  grew  very  tired  and  cold; 
then  he  went  to  bed.  "  Morning  will  come  all  the  sooner 
if  I  can  sleep,"  said  he,  as  he  drew  the  blankets  over  his 


But  Gus  did  not  sleep  until  morning.  About  eleven 
o'clock  he  was  awakened  by  a  flash  of  light  across  his  face. 
He  sprang  up  to  ascertain  the  cause,  and  found  that  the 
light  came  from  the  direction  of  Mr.  Beggs's  cottage,  which 
was  in  sight  of  his  bedroom  window.  There  was  a  little 
half  curtain  at  the  miser's  dingy  window,  and  over  that 
Gus  saw  that  the  room  was  brilliantly  lighted  up  with  a 
flickering  glare  that  sometimes  burned  brightly  and  at 
others  died  away  altogether. 

"His  house  is  on  fire,"  said  Gus  to  himself,  "and  I  am 
glad  of  it.  I  hope  every  stick  of  the  old  shanty  will  burn 
up." 

He  watched  for  a  few  moments  longer,  thinking  to  see 
the  old  man  run  out  and  give  the  alarm ;  but  everything 
remained  quiet.  No  one  seemed  to  notice  the  tire,  and  it 
kept  "growing  brighter  and  brighter.  Then  Gus  began  to 
be  uneasy. 

"It  will  never  do  to  let  the  old  man  burn  to  death  in 
his  bed,"  said  he,  as  he  began  dressing  hastily.  "I'll  go 
and  see  what  Harry  thinks  we  ought  to  do." 

He  slipped  down-stairs  softly  and  across  the  garden  to 
Harry's  window.  It  was  so  near  the  ground  that  he  could 
reach  it  easily.  So  he  tapped  loudly  on  the  pane,  and  aft- 
er a  few  moments  Harry  lifted  the  window,  and  inquired, 
in  a  sleepy  voice : 

"  Is  that  you,  Gus  ?     What's  the  matter  ?" 

"Old  Miser  Beggs's  shanty  is  on  fire.    Come  out,  Harry." 

"Good!"  said  Harry.  "Let  it  burn.  He  has  money 
enough  to  buy  a  thousand  old  shanties  like  that." 

"But,  Harry,  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Beggs  is  in  the  house 
asleep;  for  I  can't  see  any  one  moving,  and  old  Clops  is 
howling  frightfully." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Harry,  in  a  startled  voice.  "I'll  be  dressed 
in  a  moment." 

Gus  watched  the  light  in  Mr.  Beggs's  window  impa- 
tiently while  waiting  for  Harry,  who  presently  climbed 
out.  Then  the  two  boys  scampered  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  old  man's  house.  No  one  had  yet  been  alarmed,  and 
the  fire  was  spreading  rapidly.  When  they  reached  the 
window  with  the  half  curtain  Gus  climbed  upon  the  sill 
and  peeped  in. 

"Harry,"  he  shouted,  "beat  on  the  door!  The  room  is 
full  of  smoke,  and  I  can  see  something  oil  the  bed.  Old 
Clops  is  running  backward  and  forward.  The  whole  side 
of  the  room  seems  to  be  on  fire.  Be  quick !  Pound  as 
hard  as  you  can." 

Gus  and  Harry  tried  for  some  time  to  arouse  the  old 
man,  but  he  did  not  even  stir,  although  Cyclops  added  to 
the  turmoil  by  howling  and  barking  more  furiously  than 
ever. 

"  I  shall  have  to  break  through  the  window,"  said  Gus 
at  last,  when  he  found  nothing  would  arouse  the  old  man. 
Together  they  pulled  the  rickety  window  from  the  case- 
ment, and  Gus  jumped  into  the  burning  room.  Clops 
Hew  at  him  as  his  feet  touched  the  floor,  and  snapped  and 
barked  at  him  with  what  little  breath  he  had  left,  for  he 
too  was  almost  smothered  by  the  smoke. 

Gus  hurried  to  the  bed  where  the  old  man  lay.  The 
smoke  was  so  dense  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe,  but  he 
shook  Mr.  Beggs,  and  called  his  name  several  times.  lie 
did  not  move.  So  Gus  ran  to  the  window,  and  between 
coughing  and  gasping  told  Harry  that  they  would  have  to 
carry  the  miserable  old  man  out,  for  he  could  not  awake 
him. 

Harry  sprang  into  the  thick  smoke,  and  followed  Gus. 


.ITNE  12,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


499 


The  boys  hal{  dragged,  half  carried  the  old  man  to  the 
window.  The  smoke  blinded  and  choked  them,  and  old 
( 'lops  bit  and  snapped  at  their  heels:  but  at  last  they  got 
him  to  tin-  window,  and  propped  him  up  until  the  fresh 
cool  air  had  revived  him  a  little.  Then  they  coaxed  him 
to  climb  out  and  sit  on  a  stone  in  front  of  his  house.  Gus 
wrapped  a  quilt  that  he  had  snatched  from  the  bed  around 
the  poor  shivering  old  man.  He  was  only  half  conscious 
even  now.  and  sat  mumbling  to  himself,  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands.  Old  Clops  crouched  at  his  feet,  winning. 

"Here  comes  some  one,"  exclaimed  Harry.  "Let's 
call  lire.  Perhaps  we  can  save  Mr.  I'eggs's  house." 

"Fire!  tire!"  screamed  the  boys  at  once,  and  Cyclops 
gave  a  long,  melancholy  howl. 

A  man  ran  down  the  narrow  road  leading  to  the  miser's 
cottage,  and  said,  "Hello!  wind's  the  matter.'" 

"Mr.  Beggs's  house  is  on  fire,  and  he  has  been  half  suf- 
focated with  the  smoke,"  answered  (ins. 

In  a  few  moments  the  little  door-yard  was  full  of  busy 
people  eii-.eji  (1  in  extinguishing  the  flames,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  the  only  signs  of  the  lire  left  were  a  strong 
smell  of  burning1  wood  and  a  little  smoke. 

"I  say,  Mr.  lieges."  said  the  man  who  had  come  to  the 
fire  tirst.  "you  had  better  knock  the  lire  out  of  your  pipe 
before  you  put  it  ill  your  pocket  another  time.  It  may 
save  tobacco,  but  it's  rather  expensive  in  the  IOIIL:  run. 
See  here,"  said  lie.  holding  up  a  badly  burned  coal,  and 
taking  a  pipe  from  (he  pocket.  "  t  hi*  garment  is  good  for 
nothing,  and  your  house  will  need  some  repairing  before 
it's  a  pleasant  place  to  live  in." 

Mr.  Kegu-s  sprang  up  with  a  growl,  snatched  the  coat 
from  the  man's  hand,  and  holding- the  ipiilt  around  him 
stalked  into  the  house,  without  a  word  of  thanks,  and 
bunded  the  dooi- after  him. 

The  men  who  had  worked  so  hard  to  save  the  mi.-er's 
house  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed.  Then  they  went 
quietly  home,  and  GllS  and  Harry  were  alone  again.  Aft- 
er saving  a  few  words  to  each  other  they  also  returned  to 
their  beds. 

Early  the  next  morning,  while  Gus  was  dressing,  Har- 
ry called  him  from  the  garden. 

"  Gus,"  he  said,  "come  down  :  I  want  to  show  you  some- 
thing." 

Gus  hurried  to  join  his  friend,  and  said, 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Harry  ?" 

"Look  at  that,"  answered  Harry,  pointing  down  the 
road. 

Gus  turned,  and  saw  old  Mr.  Beggs  coming  slowly  to- 
ward them  leading  Frisky  by  the  bridle. 

"Here's  your  horse,"  mumbled  the  old  man,  looking 
everywhere  but  at  Gus.  "I  am  sorry  I  used  you  so 
mean.  You  said  you'd  pay  me  up,  and  so  yer  did.  You 
saved  my  life.  I'd  rather  you  had  hit  me.  In  general  I 
don't  set  much  store  by  boys,  but  I  kinder  think  you  two 
are  different  from  other  boys." 

"Thank  you.  Mr.  Beggs,  for  bringing  Frisky  back," 
cried  Gns,  delightedly.  "  How  much  do  I  owe  you  ;" 

"Nothing,  boy,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his  head. 
"If  anybody  owes  anything,  it's  me,  I  guess.  I'll  pay 
you  some  day,  my  boys — some  other  day." 

"We  have  done  nothing  to  deserve  pay,"  said  Gus. 
"  Have  we,  Harry  ;" 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  Harry,  as  he  stroked  the  pony's 
nose. 

The  old  man  pulled  out  a  large  red  cotton  handkerchief, 
turned  away,  wiped  his  eyes,  and  went  into  his  own  house. 

Frisky  was  as  pleased  to  return  home  as  his  master  was 
to  have  him  safe  again.  That  afternoon  Gus  and  Harry 
took  their  long  ride.  On  their  return,  as  they  passed  Mr. 
Beggs's  house,  they  saw  the  old  man  leaning  over  the 
gate.  He  stopped  them  and  asked, 

"Did  you  have  a  fine  ride,  boys  ;" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  answered  Gus. 


Then  Mr.  Beggs  gave  Frisky  a  lump  of  sugar,  and  im- 
mediately went  into  the  house  and  shut  the  door,  as 
though  he  were  ashamed  of  what  he  had  done. 

After  that  day  whenever  Gus  drove  Frisky  out,  Mr. 
Beggs  would  watch  for  him  over  the  garden  gate,  and  nod 
his  head  and  grin  as  lie  passed.  He  never  said  a  word 
about  the  burned  house,  but  patched  it  up  himself  as  well 
as  he  could  with  a  few  old  boards  from  his  tumble-down 
barn. 

About  three  years  after  the  fire  old  Miser  Beggs  di<  d. 
He  left  a  will  bequeathing  his  old  dog  Cyclops  to  Gns, 
and  his  property  to  he  divided  equally  between  the  two 
boys.  His  money,  instead  of  being  hidden  about  the  old 
shanty,  was  deposited  safely  in  various  banks,  where  it  was 
to  lie  and  accumulate  until  (ins  and  Harry  became  of 
age. 

Cyclops  proved  to  be  at  lirst  rather  a  troublesome  be- 
quest, for  he  snarled  and  snapped  at  every  one  who  ap- 
proached  him.  and  llatly  refused  to  leave  his  old  home. 
But  after  a  ubile  he  grew  a  little  less  savage,  and  would 
wag  his  stump  of  a  tail  when  Gus  brought  him  a  piece  of 
meat. 

Then  our  day  of  his  own  accord  he  followed  his  new 
master  home,  where  lie  remain  >d  ever  after.  And  al- 
though he  never  grew  beautiful,  the  box  s  became  so  fond 
of  him  that  he  was  their  constant  companion  in  all  their 
sports.  Especially  did  he  take  to  Frisky.  When  Gus 
was  on  his  back  Clops  would  follow  close  behind,  and 
\\lien  the  boy  was  grooming  him  Clops  would  hold  the' 
bridle  in  his  mouth,  and  superintend  the  operation  with 
all  the  gravity  in  the  world.  Never  was  there  such  a 
good  understanding  between  a  dog  and  a  pony  before. 


o.\  COLLECTING   MoTHS. 

1!Y  HELEN  S.  CON  A  XT. 

MOTHS  belong  to  the  order  of  insect  life  called  Lepi- 
doptera — a  name  signifying  scaly  wings.  If  you 
touch  the  wings  of  these  insects  too  roughly,  what  appears 
to  be  a  fine  mealy  powder  is  left  on  your  fingers.  If  you 
examine  the  wings  with  a  powerful  microscope,  you  will 
find  that  they  are  covered  with  little  scales  so  fine  that  to 
the  naked  eye  they  set -m  like  powder.  These  scales  cover 
the  entire  wing,  overlapping  each  other  like  the  scales  011 
a  fish. 

Directions  for  catching'  butterflies  were  given  in  YOUNG 
PEOPLE,  Vol.  III.,  No.  142.  The  same  method  should  be 
followed  in  capturing  moths,  only  you  can  not  take  your 
net  and  hunt  for  them  in  the  sunny  fields  as  you  hunt  for 
butterflies.  In  the  evening1,  when  the  lamps  are  lighted, 
they  will  fly  in  at  the  open  window,  and  bump  their  heads 
against  the  ceiling  of  the  room,  or  flutter  blindly  about 
the  lamp  on  the  table,  and  if  you  have  your  net  and  ether 
ready  you  can  easily  catch  them  and  add  them  to  your 
collection. 

It  is  very  easy  to  distinguish  a  butterfly  from  a  moth 
when  the  insect  is  at  rest.  A  butterfly  always  has  its 
wings  upright.  The  little  skipper  butterflies  are  the  only 
exception  to  this  rule,  and  even  those  always  elevate  the 
fore-wings.  But  the  moth  when  it  alights  always  puts 
its  wings  in  a  horizontal  position,  folding  the  fore  pair 
backward  so  that  the  hind-wings  arc  almost  concealed. 
Another  difference  is  that  while  butterflies  flutter  about  in 
the  sunshine  and  at  night  creep  in  among  the  leaves  and 
go  to  sleep,  moths  sleep  all  day,  coming  from  their  hiding- 
places  as  it  grows  dark,  to  spend  the  night  hunting  for  the 
sweet  little  honey  cups  of  flowers  where  their  food  is  stored. 
In  scrambling  about  among  the  bushes  in  the  daytime  you 
will  often  disturb  some  moth.  Then  it  will  flutter  about 
blindly  and  be  easily  caught.  There  is  also  a  great  differ- 
ence between  the  caterpillars  of  moths  and  butterflies,  and 
in  the  manner  in  which  they  form  their  chrysalides  and 


500 


HARPER'S  YOUNG-  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE   HAWK-MOTH. 

cocoons,  which  you  will  find  fully  described  iu  books  on 
Lepidoptera. 

Moths  are  divided  into  two  great  families,  Hawk-moths 
or  Sphinxes,  and  Moths  or  Phala'ine.  The  Hawk-moths 
are  called  sphinxes  because  the  caterpillars  have  a  curious 
habit  of  elevating  the  fore-part  of  the  body  and  remain- 
ing immovable  for  hours,  which  reminded  Liima?us,  the 
great  naturalist  who  named  them,  of  the  Egyptian  Sphinx. 
The  hawk-moths  hover  in  the  air  like  a  humming-bird 
while  they  suck  honey  from  the  flowers. 

There  is  one  very 
large  hawk-moth 
which  may  be 
found  any  summer 
evening  taking  its 
supper  from  the 
honey -suckle  and 
CHRYSALIS  OF  THE  HAWK-MOTH.  other  sweet  llow- 

ers.     As  it  poises 

in  the  air  fluttering  its  large  wings,  it  makes  a  loud  hum- 
ming sound  like  the  buzzing  of  a  beetle.  Throw  a  net  over 
it  carefully,  and  give  it  a  good  dose  of  ether,  for  it  is  a 
strong  insect,  and  will  not  yield  its  life  easily.  Its  large 
gray  wings,  which  expand  about  live  inches,  are  orna- 
mented with  blackish  markings,  and  on  each  side  of  ils 
thick  body  are  five  dull  orange  spots  which  give  it  the 
name  of  five-spotted  sphinx.  You  will  think  at  first  that  in 
catching  it  you  have  broken  off  the  long  tongue  which  you 
saw  it  thrust  into  the  flower  cups ;  but  look  under  its  head, 
and  there  you  will 
find  the  tongue  snug- 
ly rolled  up  like  a 
watch  spring.  Take 
a  pin  and  unroll  it 
carefully  before  it  is 
dry,  for  it  is  a  won- 
derful tongue,  five 
or  six  inches  in 
length,  long  enough 
to  penetrate  to  the 
bottom  of  the  lar- 
gest flowers.  The 
caterpillar  of  the 
five-spotted  sphinx 
is  the  large  green 
potato-worm  famil- 
iar to  every  coun- 
try boy.  It  crawls 
into  the  ground  to 
form  its  chrysalis, 
which  is  of  a  shiny 
brown  color. 

The     great     elm 


MOTH    AND    HUMMING  BIRD. 


moth  is  another  sphinx  which  is  easily  captured.  It  lives 
in  elm-trees  during  July  and  August.  It  is  as  large  as  the 
moth  just  de-scribed,  and  has  light  brown  wings,  marked 
with  dark  brown  and  white.  In  summer  evenings  these 
creatures  often  fly  into  the  lighted  parlors  of  country 
houses,  especially  when  elm-trees  grow  on  the  lawn. 

There  is  one  group  of  sphinxes  which,  unlike  most  of 
their  family,  fly  in  the  daytime.  They  look  like  hum- 
ming-birds as  they  flit  about  over  sweet-scented  flowers. 
They  have  thick  dark  brown  bodies  covered  with  down, 
and  their  wings  are  like  lace  with  a  downy  border  of  red- 
dish-brown. These  moths  are  called  ^Esrerians. 

The  division  of  Lepidoptera,  which  Limurus  named 
I'liala'na,  contains  a  great  multitude  of  moths.  The  tiny 
creatures  which  as  caterpillars  eat  woollen  and  fur  in  the 
summer  belong  to  this  family,  and  in  some  tropical  coun- 
tries there  are  moths  among  the  Phala-na  with  wings  ex- 
panding twelve  inches. 

One  of  the  largest  moths  which  flies  here  in  the  North  is 
the  Attacus  cecropia.  Its  wings  expand  fully  six  inches. 
They  are  reddish-brown,  in  color,  with  a  gray  margin  or- 
namented with  wavy  black  lines.  Near  the  centre  of  each 
wing  is  an  oblong  white  spot  shaded  on  the  edge  with 
brick  red.  This  handsome  moth  appears  in  June,  and  is 


ATTACUS    CECROPIA. 


JC.VK    \-2,  iss:;. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


.Mil 


rarely  found  during  the  latter  part  of  summer,  but  its 
great  caterpillar  crawls  about  on  fruit  trees  and  currant 
bushes  iu  August.  About  tin-  first  of  September,  when  it 
is  fully  grown,  it  is  an  enormous  creature,  larger  and 
longer  than  a  man's  finger.  It  is  then  of  a  light  green 
color,  and  covered  with  red,  yellow,  and  blue  warts.  It 
spins  its  cocoon  early  in  the  autumn,  fastening  itself  to 
the  side  of  the  twig  where  it  lias  been  feeding.  The  cocoon 
looks  like  an  oblong  bunch  of  thick  brown  paper,  and  is 
fastened  to  the  twig  with  threads  so  strong  that  it  is  very 

difficult  to  break  them.      If  you  find  a  coc i.  do  not  try 

to  detach  it  from  its  resting-place,  but  break  oil'  the  twig. 
and  if  you  keep  it  all  winter  in  a  cool  place,  the  beautiful 
moth  will  crawl  forth  in  the  spring. 

The  Dryocampa  iiiipf- 
ritiltN  is  another  large  and 
very  handsome  moth.  Its 
wings,  which  expand  about 
five  inches,  are  pale  yel- 
low, dotted  with  purple, 
and  crossed  by  wavy  pur- 
ple bands.  It  leaves  the 
chrysalis  in  June,  and  flies 
about  until  early  in  July, 
when  it  disappears.  The 
last  of  Augusl  you  will 
find  its  caterpillar  crawl- 
ing about  on  buttonwood- 
trees.  It,  is  a  great  •_'  reen 
creature  with  :i  red  hack 
and  onm",,'  eolored  head. 
The  last  of  September  it 
goes  into  the  ground  to 
form  its  chrysalis,  which 
lies  safely  hidden  all  win- 
ter, and  works  its  way  to 
flic  surface  of  the  earth  in 
spring  just  before  the  lime 
when  the  moth  will  burst 
forth. 

It  is  well  to  gather  all 
the  cocoons  and  chrysa- 
lides you  can  find, but  do 
not  keep  them  in  elose  cov- 
ered boxes,  for  the  moth 
can  not  expand  and  dry  its 
wings  without  room  and 
air.  When  the  moth  first 
crawls  forth  its  wings  are 
folded  around  its  body,  and 
it  looks  like  a  worm.  It 
takes  several  hours  for  the 
wings  to  open  and  become 
soft  and  velvety.  If  you 
are  successful  in  getting  a 
good  collection  of  chrysa- 
lides, place  them  on  a  shelf 
where  thev  will  not  be  dis- 


Many  of  the  Arctians,  or  woolly  bears,  are  pretty  moths. 
They  are  called  woolly  bears  because  the  caterpillars  are 
covered  with  hair.  The  black  and  tan-red  caterpillar 
which  rolls  itself  into  a  little  ball  when  touched  is  one  of 
the  woolly  bears.  Its  moth  is  dull  yellow  spotted  with 
black.  One  of  the  prettiest  of  the  woolly-bear  moths  is 
the  Arcf/ir  derm. 

You  will  find  it  more  difficult  to  classify  and  name 
moths  than  butterflies,  because  there  are  so  many  varieties 
which  vary  very  little  in  appearance. 

Make  your  collection  as  large  and  perfect  as  possible, 
and  if  you  can  examine  your  specimens  through  a  good 
microscope  you  will  admire  more  than  ever  before  the 
wonderful  delicacy  and  perfection  of  nature's  handiwork. 


turbed,  and  cover  them 
with  wire  covers  or  bas- 
kets of  fine  wicker-work. 

Watch  them  carefully,  otherwise  the  moth  may  come  out 
and  die,  and  become  so  dry  before  it  is  found  that  it  will 
crumble  if  you  try  to  arrange  it  in  your  collection. 

Nearly  all  of  the  small  gray  millers  which  flutter 
around  the  evening  lamp  belong  to  the  Phala?na  family. 
These  little  insects  are  not  very  pretty,  but  sometimes  you 
will  find  one  among  them  with  beautifully  colored  wings. 
The  Deiopeia  bella,  which  flies  all  through  the  summer, 
is  a  very  pretty  little  creature.  It  expands  only  one  inch 
and  a  half.  Its  fore-wings  are  yellow,  marked  with  white 
bands  and  black  dots,  and  the  hind-wings  are  scarlet,  bor- 
dered with  black. 


"HE   PINCHED    JUST   AS    HARD    AS    HE    COULD    PINCH.'' 


AN  ACCIDENT. 

BY    JIMMY    BROWN. 

AUNT  ELIZA  never  comes  to  our  house  without  getting 
me  into  difficulties.  I  don't  really  think  she  means 
to  do  it,  but  it  gets  itself  done  just  the  same.  She  was  at 
our  house  last  week,  and  though  I  meant  to  behave  in  the 
most  exemplifying  manner,  I  happened  by  accident  to  do 
something  which  she  said  ought  to  fill  me  with  remorse 
for  the  rest  of  my  days. 

Eemorse   is  a  dreadful  thing  to  have.     Some  people 
have  it  so  bad  that  they  never  get  over  it.     There  was  once 


502 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


a  ghost  who  suffered  dreadfully  from  remorse.  He  was  a 
tall  white  ghost,  with  a  large  cotton  umbrella.  He  haunt- 
ed a  house  where  he  used  to  walk  up  and  clown,  carrying 
his  umbrella  and  looking  awfully  solemn.  People  used 
to  wonder  what  he  wanted  of  an  umbrella,  but  they  never 
asked  him,  because  they  always  shrieked  and  fainted  away 
when  they  saw  the  ghost,  and  when  they  were  brought  to 
cried,  "  Save  me  take  it  away  take  it  away." 

One  time  a  boy  came  to  the  house  to  spend  Christmas. 
He  was  just  a  terror,  was  this  boy.  He  had  been  a  Dis- 
trict Telegraph  Messenger  boy,  and  he  wasn't  afraid  of 
anything.  The  folks  told  him  about  the  ghost,  but  he 
said  he  didn't  care  for  any  living  ghost,  and  had  just  as 
soon  see  him  as  not. 

That  night  the  boy  woke  up,  and  saw  the  ghost  stand- 
ing in  his  bedroom,  and  he  said:  "  Thishyer  is  nice  con- 
duct, coming  into  a  gentleman's  room  without  knocking. 
What  do  you  want,  anyway?" 

The  ghost  replied  in  the  most  respectful  way  that  he 
wanted  to  find  the  owner  of  the  umbrella.  "I  stole  that 
umbrella  when  I  was  alive,"  he  said,  "and  I  am  filled 
with  remorse." 

"I  should  think  you  would  be,"  said  the  boy,  "for  it 
is  the  worst  old  cotton  umbrella  I  ever  saw." 

"  If  I  can  only  find  the  owner  and  give  it  back  to  him," 
continued  the  ghost,  "I  can  get  a  little  rest;  but  I've  been 
looking  for  him  for  ninety  years,  and  I  can't  find  him." 

"Serves  you  right,"  said  the  boy,  "  for  not  sending  for 
a  messenger.  You're  in  luck  to  meet  me.  Gimme  the 
umbrella,  and  I'll  give  it  back  to  the  owner." 

"Bless  you,"  said  the  ghost,  handing  the  umbrella  to 
the  boy;  "you  have  saved  me.  Now  I  will  go  away  and 
rest,"  and  he  turned  to  go  out  of  the  door,  when  the  boy 
said, 

"  See  here ;  it's  fifty  cents  for  taking  an  umbrella  home, 
and  I've  got  to  be  paid  in  advance." 

"But  I  haven't  got  any  money,"  said  the  ghost. 

"Can't  help  that, "said  the  boy.  "You  give  me  fifty 
cents,  or  else  take  your  umbrella  back  again.  We  don't 
do  any  work  in  our  office  for  nothing." 

Well,  the  end  of  it  all  was  that  the  ghost  left  the  um- 
brella with  the  boy,  and  the  next  night  he  came  back  with 
the  money,  though  where  he  got  it  nobody  will  ever  knou  . 
The  boy  kept  the  money,  and  threw  the  umbrella  away, 
for  he  was  a  real  bad  boy,  and  only  made  believe  that  lie 
was  going  to  find  the  owner;  and  the  ghost  was  never 
seen  again. 

But  I  haven't  told  about  the  trouble  with  Aunt  Eliza 
yet.  The  day  she  came  to  our  house  mother  bought  a 
lot  of  live  crabs  from  a  man,  and  put  them  in  a  pail  in  the 
kitchen.  Tom  McGinnis  was  spending  the  day  with  me, 
and  I  said  to  him  what  fun  it  would  be  to  have  crab  races, 
such  as  we  used  to  have  down  at  the  sea-shore  last  sum- 
mer. He  said  wouldn't  it,  though;  so  each  of  us  took 
three  crabs,  and  went  upstairs  into  the  spare  bedroom, 
where  we  could  be  sure  of  not  being  disturbed.  We  had  a 
splendid  time  with  the  crabs,  and  I  won  more  than  half 
the  races.  All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  mother  calling  me, 
and  Tom  and  I  just  dropped  the  crabs  into  an  empty  work- 
basket,  and  pushed  it  under  the  sofa  out  of  sight,  and  then 
went  down-stairs. 

I  meant  to  get  the  crabs  and  take  them  back  to  the  kitch- 
en again,  but  I  forgot  all  about  it,  for  Aunt  Eliza  came 
just  after  mother, had  called  me,  and  everybody  was  busy 
talking  to  her.  Of  course  she  was  put  into  the  spare  room, 
and  as  she  was  very  tired,  she  said  she'd  lie  down  on  the 
sofa  until  dinner-time  and  take  her  hair  down. 

About  an  hour  afterward  we  heard  the  most  dreadful 
cries  from  Aunt  Eliza's  room,  and  everybody  rushed  up- 
stairs, because  they  thought  she  must  certainly  be  dead. 
Mother  opened  the  door,  and  we  all  went  in.  Aunt  Eliza 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  jumping  up  and 
down,  and  crying  and  shrieking  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 


One  crab  was  hanging  on  to  one  of  her  fingers,  and  he 
pinched  just  as  hard  as  he  could  pinch,  and  there  were  two 
more  hanging  on  to  the  ends  of  her  hair.  You  see.  the 
crabs  had  got  out  of  the  work-basket,  and  some  of  them 
had  climbed  up  the  sofa  while  Aunt  Eliza  was  asleep. 

Of  course  they  said  it  was.  all  my  fault,  and  perhaps  it 
was.  But  I'd  like  to  know  if  it's  a  fair  thing  to  leave 
crabs  where  they  can  tempt  a  fellow,  and  then  to  be  severe 
with  him  when  he  forgets  to  put  them  back.  However, 
I  forgive  everybody,  especially  Aunt  Eliza,  who  really 
doesn't  mean  any  harm. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

33  Y      JAMES      OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TOBY  TYLEK,"  "  TIM  AND  Tir,"  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
t'P   THE  CALOOSAHATCHEE. 

IT  was  at  Punta  Rassa  that  Tom  Rogers  was  to  leave 
the  Pearl,  and  Charley  take  his  place  at  the  engine. 
That  night,  while  Captain  Sammy  was  on  deck  making 
everything  fast  and  snug,  Dare  found  an  opportunity  of 
whispering  to  Tommy  that  he  hoped  to  get  him  ashore  in 
the  morning. 

A  mail  steamer  made  weekly  trips  between  Punta  Ras- 
sa, Tampa,  and  Cedar  Keys,  and  it  was  very  probable  that 
Tommy  could  beg  a  passage  upon  her,  even  if  he  could 
not  induce  Rogers  to  take  him  home  with  him.  It  seem- 
ed, therefore,  to  be  of  the  highest  importance  that  the 
pirate  should  leave  the  Pearl  at.  that  point. 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  prisoner  to  have 
moved  around  the  cabin  any  that  night,  for  Captain  Sam- 
my was  up  and  down  like  a  jack-iii-a-box,  and  the  first 
move  would  have  been  sure  to  result  in  detection. 

At  last  the  boys  dropped  off  to  sleep  one  by  one,  and  when 
they  awakened  again  Captain  Sammy  was  in  the  engine- 
room  preparing  Rogers's  breakfast,  so  that  he  could  get  on 
shore  very  early. 

While  Dare  was  in  the  cabin,  on  the  alert  to  every  move- 
Captaiii  Sammy  made,  he  saw  Tommy's  head  cautiously 
appear  from  under  the  berth,  and  heard  the  unhappy 
pirate  whisper, 

"You'll  be  certain  to  get  me  out  of  this  to-day,  won't 
you  ?" 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,"  replied  Dare,  bending  low  over 
the  berth,  that  no  one  should  hear  his  whisper;  "but  I 
don't  see  how  it's  going  to  be  done." 

"I  shall  die  if  I  have  to  stay  here  any  longer.  I  know 
I  shall,  for  it's  just  awful,"  and  the  two  tears  that  roll- 
ed down  the  pirate's  cheeks  attested  to  the  fact  of  his 
suffering. 

There  was  no  time  for  Dare  to  express  his  sympathy, 
for  Captain  Sammy  entered  the  cabin  just  then,  and  Tom- 
my withdrew  his  head  so  quickly  that  he  hit  it  a  terrible 
thump  on  the  berth  above. 

"Do  any  of  the  boys  want  to  see  the  town  ?"  the  little 
man  asked. 

"I  don't  think  they  do,  sir.  Of  course,  if  you  want  to 
send  there  for  anything,  any  of  us  will  go." 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  send,  for  I  am  going  on  shore  my- 
self to  carry  Rogers.  I  thought  if  any  of  yon  wanted  to 
go,  you'd  better  be  getting  ready.  But  it's  just  as  well 
you  don't  want  to,  for  there  ain't  more  than  twenty  houses 
tin  -re.  and  really  nothing  to  see." 

Dare's  heart  seemed  to  come  up  into  his  throat,  so  great 
was  his  delight  that  Captain  Sammy  was  going  ashore, 
for  it  seemed  almost  certain  that,  once  left  alone,  they 
could  dispose  of  Tommy  in  some  way. 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Jl'XE  12,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


r,u;; 


He  found  an  opportunity  of  warning  Charley  not  to  ex- 
pn->s  any  desire  to  see  Punta  Rassa,  and  then  went  on 
deck  to  say  good-by  to  Rogers. 

"Have  everything  ready  so  that  we  can  leave  the  mo- 
ment I  get  back,"  shouted  Captain  Sammy,  as  the  little 
tender  left  the  Pearl,  and  even  as  he  shouted,  the  boys 
could  hear  Tommy  scurrying  around  below,  probably  en- 
gaged in  stretching  his  legs. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  boys  had  not  once  thought 
that  they  should  be  without  the  means  of  reaching  the 
shore  after  Captain  Sammy  left  in  the  tender,  and  Dare's 
joy  at  his  going  was  very  short-lived,  for  he  realized  when 
the  little  craft  left  the  Pearl,  that  he  and  his  crew  were 
quite  as  much  prisoners  as  was  Tommy. 

"There's  only  one  chance."  he  said,  mournfully,  to 
Charley,  "and  that  is  that,  a  boat,  may  conic  alongside,  or 
near  us,  while  he  is  gone.  Let  all  hands  keep  a  bright 
lookout,  and  it'  we  see  any  kind  of  a  craft,  hail  her." 

Tommy  was  perfectly  quiet  below,  and  there  was  no 
doubt  but  that,  he  was  making  rapid  inroads  on  the 
larder. 

The  watch  on  the  bow  of  the  Prnrl  was  not  continued 
very  long,  for  in  live  minutes  after  Captain  Sammy  stepped 
ashore  he  uas  si-en  returning  with  some  bundles  in  his 
hands,  and  he  started  directly  for  the  steamer. 

"  It's  all  up  now."  said  I  hire,  with  a  "roan.  "  Our  trip 
is  spoiled  all  because  of  Tommy,  for  1  know  something 
dreadful  will  happen  when  Captain  Sammy  sees  him.  and 
there  isn't  much  chance  that  \\e  can  keep  him  hidden  very 
long." 

Then  he  went,  down  to  tell  the  prisoner  that  he  must. 
get  into  his  dungeon  again,  or  what  would  be  altogether 
for  the  best,  show  himself,  and  be  set  ashore  as  soon  after- 
ward as  the  little  Captain  would  permit. 

But  at  this  last  proposal  Tommy  shoued  such  signs  of 
fear  that  it  was  useless  to  urge  il.  He  declared  thai  In- 
had  rather  jump  overboard  and  run  the  risk  of  being  cairn 
by  sharks,  which  death,  he  thought,  would  be  far  easier 
than  the  one  the  Captain  would  mete  out  to  him.  He  in- 
sisted that  there  would  be  plenty  of  opportunities  for  him 
to  get  on  shore  after  they  were  farther  up  the  river,  and 
that  he  would  gladly  take  the  chances  of  the  walk  through 
the  woods  to  I'unta  Rassa  rather  than  face  his  enemy. 

Then  Charley  proposed  that  he  should  hide  under  the  lit- 
tle berth  off  of  the  engine-room  rather  than  in  the  forward 

cabin,  since  in  that  place  they  would  have  a  better  chai 

to  give  him  his  food,  and  he  could  go  into  the  standing- 
room  after  all  the  others  were  in  bed. 

This  change  was  gladly  accepted  by  the  disconsolate  pi- 
rate, and  he  hastened  to  stow  himself  away  as  quickly  as 
possible. 

"You'll  certain  let  me  know  when  there's  the  littlest 
chance  for  me  to  get  ashore,  won't  you  '."  he  asked,  implor- 
ingly; and  Dare  assured  him  decidedly  that  he  was  quite 
as  anxious  to  land  him  as  he  was  to  be  landed. 

When  Captain  Sammy  stepped  on  board  he  looked 
around  him  for  some  evidences  that  preparations  had  been 
made  for  getting  the  steamer  under  way.  but  everything 
was  as  he  had  left  it.  The  crew  bustled  around  lively 
enough  as  soon  as  he  was  there;  but  their  idleness  during 
his  absence  was  something  he  could  not  understand,  and 
Dare  believed  the  little  man  had  grown  suspicious.  He 
well  knew  that  if  the  Captain  should  seriously  suspect  that 
something  was  taking  place  on  the  steamer  which  was 
kept  a  secret  from  him,  it  would  not  take  him  long  to  dis- 
cover everything,  and  then  would  come  the  tragedy  he 
had  been  fearing. 

It  was  not  many  minutes  after  this  before  Charley  an- 
nounced that  he  was  ready.  The  anchor  was  weighed, 
and  the  Pearl  steamed  swiftly  up  the  sluggish  waters  of 
the  Caloosahatchee  River. 

They  had  been  about  two  hours  on  their  journey  when 
Bobby  crept  into  the  pilot-house,  and  in  a  way  intended 


to  be  secret,  but  which  would  instantly  attract  attention, 
whispered  to  Dare  that  Charley  and  Tommy  had  formed 
a  plan  which  they  wanted  him  to  consent  to.  It  was  that 
one  of  the  boys  should  call  Captain  Sammy  into  the  cabin, 
and  there  engage  his  attention  until  the  pirate  could  creep 
out  on  deck,  jump  into  the  tender,  and  row  ashore.  After 
he  had  made  his  escape  into  the  woods  some  one  could 
discover  that  Jhe  boat  had  gone  adrift,  and  the  steamer  be 
put  hack  for  it.  In  case  Captain  Sammy  should  discover 
the  plot  after  Tommy  had  cast  the  boat  loose  from  the 
steamer,  and  while  he  was  yet  in  sight,  Charley  was  to 
pretend  to  misunderstand  the  signals  given,  and  thus  the 
pirate  would  escape  before  the  steamer  could  lie  stopped. 

Dare  did  not  like  the  plan  because  of  the  deception  ne- 
cessary to  practice  on  the  little  man.  but  something  must 
be  done,  even  if  it  \\as  despi-rale,  and  he  told  Bobby  to  go 
away  for  a  while  until  he  could  think  the  matter  over. 

All  this  time  Captain  Sammy  was  leaning  over  the  rail 
in  a  careless  sort  of  way,  as  if  he  was  paying  no  attention 
to  what  was  taking  place  behind  him  ;  but  had  any  of  the 
boys  watched  him  carefully  they  would  have  seen  that  he- 
was  on  the  alert  for  everything  around  him. 

Dare  realized  that  if  they  did  not  part  company  with 
the  pirate  very  soon  they  would  be  so  far  from  any  settle- 
ment as  t.i  make  it  impossible  that  lie  could  ever  reach 
home;  therefore,  much  its  he  disliked  Charley's  plan,  he 
concluded  that  it  should  be  tried. 

I  |e  made  motions  to  Bobby  to  come  into  the  pilot-house 
again,  and  there  in  lot  her  whispered  consul  tilt  ion  was  held 
as  to  how  l',iibh\  should  contrive  to  get  the  little  n  1:111  into 
the  cabin  and  keep  him  there. 

Then  I'.obby  returned  to  (  'hurley,  telling  him  what  Dare 
had  ^fid.  and  warning  him  to  have  Tommy  all  ready  when 
Hare  should  give  the  signal  by  whistling  through  the 
speaking-tube. 

Dare  proposed  to  wait  until  they  should  come  to  a  bend 
in  the  river  before  the  plan  was  carried  into  execution,  so 
that  Touiiin  could  lie  more  sure  of  getting  out  of  sight 
quickly.  In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  Pearl  approached 
\\hat  seemed  to  be  the  very  place  of  all  others  in  which  to 
I  r\  1  he  experiment. 

Dare  whistled  to  Charley,  and  was  about  to  motion  to 
Hobby  to  do  his  portion  of  the  work,  when  Captain  Sammy 
started  to  his  feet  as  if  he  had  received  an  electric  shock. 

"  I  don't  like  this!"  he  shouted,  in  what  to  Dare  seemed 
a  stern  voice.  "  Tell  Charley  to  stop  her." 

It  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  Dare  rang  the  bell, 
for  he  felt  that  the  critical  moment  had  come,  and  that  in 
a  very  short  time  Captain  Sammy  would  know  all. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
CAPTAIN  SAMMY'S  PERIL. 

WHEN  the  little  man  gave  the  order  to  stop  the  Pearl 
he  spoke  in  such  a  loud  voice  that  every  one  on  board 
heard  him,  and  for  a  few  moments  confusion  reigned  in 
the  engine-room. 

Of  course  each  one  thought,  as  Dare  had,  that  the  pi- 
rate's presence  was  discovered,  or  would  be  in  a  very  short 
time,  and  Tommy's  knees  trembled  so  that  he  could  hardly 
manage  to  creep  into  his  new  hiding-place  in  the  after- 
cabin. 

But  the  cause  of  Captain  Sammy's  apparently  singular 
action  arose  from  a  more  innocent  reason  than  the  guilty 
boys  believed. 

"I  don't  like  this  idea  of  rushing  ahead  as  if  everything 
depended  on  our  getting  to  Lake  Okeechobee  at  a  certain 
time,"  he  said,  when  the  boys  stood  before  him,  "and  it  is 
too  bad  not  to  take  our  share  of  these  fish  before  we  go 
any  farther." 

The  faces  of  his  listeners  lightened  up  at  once  when  they 
found  that  they  had  no  cause  for  fear  on  Tommy's  ac- 
count. As  soon  as  they  learned  that  he  wanted  some 


504 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•CAPTAIN    SAMMY'S    ( i\  KKl'.uA  Kl)  :" 


fish,  the  boys  produced  their  lines  and  hooks  with  an 
eagerness  which  caused  the  little  man  to  smile. 

It  did  not  take  the  three  hoys — Captain  Sammy  not  car- 
ing to  try  liis  luck — very  long  to  catch  all  the  fish,  and 
even  more,  than  they  could  possibly  use,  and  when  they 
drew  in  their  lines  they  had  as  many  black  bass,  bream, 
cat-fish,  and  perch  as  it  was  possible  for  the  hungriest  crew 
to  dispose  of  before  they  spoiled. 

Captain  Sammy  surveyed  the  catch  with  a  grim  satis- 
faction, and  while  the  boys  were  winding  up  their  lines 
preparatory  to  starting  on  their  journey  again  he  pointed 
out  to  them  four  quite  large  sharks  which  were  lying  mo- 
tionless near  the  surface  of  the  water,  as  if  they  expected  a 
portion  of  the  spoils. 

"Look  at  'em !"  cried  the  little  man,  as  he  shook  his  fist 
in  helpless  wrath  toward  the  members  of  the  same  family 
that  had  dined  off  his  leg.  "You'll  find  folks  so  igno- 
rant as  to  tell  you  that  sharks  won't  come  up  a  river,  and 
here  we  are  fully  twelve  miles  from  the  bay.  I  tell  you 
a  shark  will  follow  a  boat  for  days  in  hopes  that  somebody 
will  be  foolish  enough  to  tumble  overboard,  and  just  as 
likely  as  not  those  fellows  have  followed  us  all  the  way 
from  Tampa." 

The  boys  could  not  repress  a  shudder  as  they  gazed  at 
the  wicked-looking  fish,  and  it  was  not  difficult  to  believe 
that  Captain  Sammy  had  told  the  truth,  and  that  they 
were  following-  the  steamer  in  the  hope  of  making  a  meal 
of  human  flesh. 

The  view  of  the  sharks  was  not  a  pleasant  one,  and 
when  Captain  Sammy  called  Bobby  into  the  standing- 
room  with  him  to  help  clean  the  fish,  Dare  and  Charley 
started  the  Pearl  again. 

The  farther  up  the  river  they  proceeded  the  more  nu- 
merous had  the  alligators  become,  until  now  it  required 
no  small  amount  of  skill  on  the  part  of  the  helmsman  to 
prevent  the  little  craft  from  running  into  the  unwieldy 
creatures. 

Once  or  twice  the  Pearl  went  so  near  to  them  as  to  rub 


against  their  scaly  backs,  and  Captain  Sammy,  perched 
upon  the  rail  at  the  extreme  stern  of  the  boat,  ordered 
Charley  to  tell  Dare  to  "keep  his  eye  peeled  or  the  steamer 
might  get  another  hole  knocked  in  her  bow." 

When  the  little  man  asked  Bobby  to  come  into  the 
standing-room  he  stated  that  it  was  to  1icl}>  him  clean  the 
fish;  but  when  the  work  began  Bobby  was  the  one  who 
was  obliged  to  do  the  greater  portion  of  it,  while  Captain 
Sammy,  from  his  elevated  seat  on  the  rail,  gave  his  youth- 
ful assistant  scientific  lectures  as  to  how  the  work  should  be 
done. 

Dare  now  had  little  time  to  think  of  the  pirate,  for  it 
seemed  almost  as  if  the  alligators  were  doing  their  best  to 
strike  the  Pearl  with  their  long  ugly  snouts. 

One  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the  bottom  of  the  river 
not  a  dozen  feet  from  the  bow  of  the  steamer,  and  Dare 
was  obliged  to  swing  his  wheel  hard  down  to  avoid  him. 
As  it  was,  the  little  craft  struck  him  about  half-way  from 
bow  to  midship,  riding  up  on  his  scaly  back  in  a  way  that 
caused  her  to  careen  until  the  starboard  guard  was  even 
with  the  water; 

Dare  had  tried  to  escape  one  danger  without  noticing 
whether  he  might  not  be  running  into  another,  and  the 
consequence  was  that  the  steamer  struck  full  upon  one  of 
the  largest  of  the  monsters  at  the  same  time  she  careened 
so  badly. 

Dare  had  no  thought  of  anything  save  the  possible 
damage  that  might  have  been  done  to  the  boat,  and  there- 
fore gave  no  heed  to  the  cry  which  came  from  the  stern. 
In  fact,  so  alarmed  was  he  lest  they  were  in  a  sinking  con- 
dition, that  he  could  not  tell  afterward  whether  or  110  he 
heard  any  cry  whatever. 

But  in  a  very  few  seconds  he  saw  that  the  engine  had 
been  suddenly  reversed,  and  then  came  the  startling  cry, 
both  from  Bobby  and  Charley: 

' '  Captain  Sammy's  overboard !  Captain  Sammy's  over- 
board!'' 

[TO  BE    CONTINUED.] 


JUXE  12,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


505 


A  VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERY. 

I1Y  S.  D.  A. 

rpROTTY  is  standing1  at  the  window,  looking  disconso- 
J_  lately  up  at  the  clouds,  and  wondering  if  it  will  ever 
stop  raining.  She  is  so  tired  of  the  rain,  and  of  hearing 
mamma  and  Miss  Carlotta  talk  ! 

' '  How  long  they  have  been  at  it !''  thinks  Trotty.  ' '  'Most 
the  whole  afternoon." 

Then  she  leans  her  golden  head  against  the  curtain  and 
listens  attentively,  with  a  vague  hope  of  hearing  some- 
thing that  may  be  interesting. 

It  is  such  a  pretty  room  she  is  looking  into.     The  wain- 
scoted walls  have  lovely  plaques  hanging  on  them,  the 
shelves  of  the  mantel  hold  many  a  rare  bit  of  porcelain,  and 
{he  hangings  and  the  furni- 
ture are  so  bright  and  warm 
with  their  rich   folds  and 
soft  coloring.     Mamma  sits 
in  her  lo\v  chair  with  hoi- 
slim  foot    resting    on    the 
brass  fender,  idly  smooth- 
ing her  pet  kitten   Royal 
as  he  lies  curled  up  like  :i 
great  white  caterpillar  on 
her  soft  dress. 

Mamma's  friend  Miss 
Carlotta  stands  at  the  end 
of  the  mantel-shelf,  where 
the  lamp,  with  its  globe 
covered  with  gold  butter- 
flies, sheds  a  soft  light  UN 
her  golden  hair  and  the 
pale  blue  folds  of  her  ilress. 
She  looks,  as  she  stands 
there  tall  and  straight,  like 
the  angel  in  the  church 
window,  thinks  Trotty. 

The  fire  flashes  up,  and 
seems  to  put  some  of  its 
own  life  into  the  locket 
mamma  wears  around  her 
neck,  so  brightly  does  it 
shine.  It  catches  Miss 
Carlotta's  eye. 

'•Whom  have  you  in 
that  locket,  Helen  ?"  she 
asks. 

"Fred,"  simply  answers 
mamma.  But  a  shade 
comes  over  her  sweet 
face. 

"May  I  see  it?"  says 
Miss  Carlotta,  coming 
closer  to  mamma's  chair. 

Mamma  unclasps  the 
chain,  and  lays  the  locket 
in  Miss  Carlotta's  out- 
stretched hand.  Miss  Car- 
lotta looks  at  it  a  little 
while  in  silence. 

''Have  you  no  clew  to 
him  yet  ?''  she  asks  pres- 
ently. 

"None  at  all,"  replies 
mamma,  so  mournfully. 
"Oh,  Carlotta,  how  I  wish 
he  would  come  back !  I 
think  father's  heart  is  al- 
most broken." 

"I  am  sure  he  will," 
says  Miss  Carlotta.  "In- 


thinkiiig  he  will  come  home.  You  will  certainly  see  him 
some  day — when  your  ship  comes  in." 

"  Yes,"  repeats  mamma,  smiling  sadly,  "  when  my  ship 
conies  in." 

"  Has  mamma  a  ship  ?"  thinks  Trotty.  "  How  very  in- 
teresting !" 

But  what  follows  is  more  interesting  still. 

"What  a  handsome  face,"  Miss  Carlotta  says,  "and  how 
much  it  is  like  your  little  Trotty!" 

But  before  mamma  has  time  to  answer,  papa's  voice  is 
heard  at  the  door,  and  she  and  Miss  Carlotta  go  out  into 
the  hall  to  get  the  letters  he  has  brought.  The  locket 
slips  from  mamma's  lap,  where  Miss  Carlotta  has  laid  it, 
and  falls  on  the  rug. 

Trotty  is  about  to  follow  the  others,  when  the  glistening 


deed,  Helen,  I  can  not  help 


'ROCKED  BY  TUB  MOTION  OF  THE  BOAT,  TEOTTY  FALLS  ASLEEP." 


506 


HARPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


bit  of  gold  attracts  her  attention.  The  opportunity  is  too 
tempting  for  Trotty  to  resist.  She  feels  that  she  must 
see  the  mysterious  "  Fred"  who  looks  like  her,  and  who  is 
coming  home  in  the  still  more  mysterious  ship. 

"Come  right  along,  Jemima,"  she  says,  taking  her 
long-suffering  doll  by  the  arm,  and  starting  for  the  fire- 
place. 

Jemima,  sympathetic  as  usual  in  her  wooden  and  saw- 
dusty  way,  submits  passively  to  being  dragged  over  the 
carpet  until  she  reaches  the  hearth-rug,  where  she  falls 
prostrate  before  the  superior  attractions  of  the  locket. 

Trotty  picks  it  up,  opens  it,  and  sees  a  frank,  boyish 
face,  with  a  pair  of  laughing  blue  eyes,  very  much  like 
her  own,  only  she  does  not  know  that.  There  is  nothing 
at  all  about  the  ship,  which  disappoints  her.  She  had 
expected  to  find  something  quite  different,  though  she 
could  not  have  told  what.  She  drops  the  locket,  chain 
and  all,  into  the  wee  pocket,  and  proceeds  to  pick  up  the 
fallen  Jemima.  Just  then  nurse  comes  in  at  (lie  dour. 

"Come,  Trotty,"  she  says,  "  it's  lied  time. 

So  Trotty  is  taken  into  the  library  to  say  good-night  to 
papa,  mamma,  and  Miss  Carl otta,  and  then  walks  up  ''"' 
long  stairway  alone  by  herself  like  a  grown- up  lady. 
Jemima  goes  too.  carried  by  the  head. 

Nurse  sits  down  by  the  nursery  lire,  and  takes  Trolly 
on  her  lap  to  brush  out  her  pretty  yellow  curls.  This  is 
soon  done;  the  little  white  night  dress  is  put  on,  and  pres- 
ently Trotty  is  safely  tucked  in  bed. 

But  before  she  has  had  time  to  get  to  sleep.  mamma's 
own  maid  Anne  comes  in  to  have  a  little  chat  with  nurse. 
At  first  they  speak  in  whispers,  which  is  rather  foolish. 
Trotty  thinks,  as  she  watches  them  lazily.  She  does  no! 
pay  much  attention,  and  is  just  about  falling  asleep  when 
she  hears  nurse  say,  "  Her  uncle  Fred." 

She  is  wide  awake  in  an  instant. 

"You  know  I  never  heard  the  whole  of  that  story," 
says  Anne.  "  Tell  me  about  it,  won't  you  .'" 

Then,  to  Trotty 's  great  joy,  nurse  tells  Anne  how,  long 
ago,  grandpa's  pride  and  delight  had  been  in  his  band 
some  boy.  But  though  he  loved  him  so  dearly,  he  was 
very  stern  to  him  sometimes,  too;  and  one  day  when 
grandpa  had  punished  him  very  severely  for  some  slight 
fault,  the  boy's  proud  spirit  had  rebelled  against  it. 

"And,"  continues  nurse,  sinking  her  voice  a  little,  "he 
just  ran  away,  and  we  never  heard  a  word  of  him  since." 

"  Dear  me !"  says  Anne. 

"Dear  me!"  repeats  Trotty  under  the  pink  curtains. 

"The  poor  old  man."  says  nurse, -wiping  her  eyes,  "  his 
heart's  'most  broken." 

"Maybe  lie  would  come  back  yet."  sa\s  Anne,  in  her 
funny  Irish  way. 

"  Maybe  he  would,"  replies  nurse,  rather  doubtfully. 

Trotty,  listening  attentively,  can  not  quite  understand 
all  they  are  saying.  She  only  understands  that  the  hand- 
some boy  who  looked  like  her  ran  away  years  ago,  and 
that  grandpa  has  been  very  sad  ever  since. 

"But  then,"  thinks  Trotty.  triumphantly,  "-mamma 
said  he  was  coming  home  in  her  ship.  I  wonder  if  nurse 
'members  tl  .1 1 

She  listens  once  more  to  what  nurse,  and  Anne  are  say- 
ing. But  they  are  talking  of  other  things  now.  Present- 
ly the  white  eyelids  fall  gradually  over  the  pretty  blue 
eyes,  shutting  out  the  rose-colored  curtains,  the  baby  bro- 
ther by  the  lire,  the  nickering  light  on  the  ceiling — and 
Trotty  is  fast  asleep. 

When  the  morning  comes,  the  sun  is  shining,  oh.  so 
brightly?  The  minute  nurse  has  finished  dressing  her. 
Troiu  goes  carefully  down  the  stairs,  and  runs  out  upon 
the  bmad  pi  a //.a.  How  fresh  and  green  everything  looks 
after  the  rain!  Over  the  gate  at  the  end  of  the  garden 
walk  she  can  see  the  blue  ocean,  with  myriads  of  little 
wave*  (lancing  in  the  morning  sunshine.  She  runs  down 


the  walk  quite  close  to  the  water.  There  is  a  beautiful 
great  wave  rolling  in  toward  the  sand.  Trotty  looks  at  it 
admiringly. 

The  wave  breaks  into  a  long  line  of  white  foam,  and 
runs  back  again,  leaving  a  curious-looking  star-fish  lying 
on  the  sand. 

Then  she  suddenly  remembers  what  she  heard  nurse  say 
last  night  about  Uncle  Fred,  and  a  new  idea  comes  into 
her  mind.  "  If  I  could  only  get  the  gate  open.  I  would  go 
and  look  for  him.  Maybe  I  could  lind  him,"  she  thinks. 

She  gives  the  gate  an  impatient  little  shake,  and  to  her 
intense  delight  it  swings  open.  Trotty  runs  quickly  out 
oil  to  the  beach.  Her  friend  the  star-fish  lies  at  her  feet. 
Trolly  picks  him  up,  examines  him  carefully  all  over,  and 
then  invites  him  to  go  with  heron  her  travels. 

"I'm  going  to  find  my  uncle  Fred,"  she  says.  "  You 
may  go  too.  if  you  like,  little  fish."  Then  the  poor  star- 
fish is  rudely  pushed  by  some  chubby  little  lingers  into  a 
wee  pocket,  and  Trotty.  with  her  pretty  golden  curls  flying 
in  the  wind,  walks  gravely  up  the  beach.  She  st<  >)>s  e\  cr\ 
now  and  (hen  to  look  at  some  lovely  she- II.  or  to  \\atch  tin- 
odd  little  fiddlers  running  over  the  sand.  She  is  just  be- 
ginning to  feel  tired,  when  she  turns  a  point  running  out 
into  the  water,  and  catches  >lght  of  what  sin-  thinks  is  the 
mo-i  fascinating  thing  she  has  ever  seen. 

It  is  a  little  white  Imat  drawn  half-way  up  on  the 
shore.  Stretched  over  il  is  a  dainty  blue  and  white 
awning,  with  blue  fringe  around  1  lie  edge.  Trolly  gives 
a  scr.am  of  delight.  She  climbs  on  a  large  stone  close 
b\  the  boat,  and  finally,  after  many  struggles,  succeeds 
in  getting  inside.  She  walks  cautiously  toward  the 
stern,  and  looks  down  into  the  water.  She  sees  a  cu- 
rious little  fish  swimming  about  very  curious  indeed, 
thinks  Trotty,  as  sin-  bobs  from  one  side  to  the  other,  try- 
ing to  follow  his  movements.  Whoever  left  the  little 
boat  on  the  shore  that  morning  mn-l  have  forgotten  that 
the  tide  was  rising;  for  in  a  very  short  time,  loosened  by 
Trotty's  exertions,  and  raised  b\  the  incoming  waves.il 
has  worked  gradually  away  from  tin-  sand,  and  when 
Trotty.  tired  of  the  fish,  looks  around  in  search  of  other 
amusement,  she  finds  that  she  is.  what  seems  to  her.  a 
long  way  out  at  sea.  At  lirsl  she  does  nol  mind  it  very 
much,  for  she  is  quite  used  to  ihe  \\aler.  papa  lias  taken 
her  on  I  in  bis  own  boat  so  of  I  en  this  summer.  Hut  after  a 
while  she  grows  hungry,  and  tired  of  dancing  over  tin- 
waves.  She  thinks  of  llie  nice  breakfast  at  home,  of  nurse 
and  baby,  of  mamma,  and  wonders  if  she  misses  her  little 
girl.  Two  great  tears  come  into  her  blue  e\  es. 

"Oh,  mamma.  I  want  you!  \Yh\  don't  \oucoineand 
look  for  me  '."  she  sobs,  sitting  down  disconsolately  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat. 

The  tears  in  the  blue  eyes  roll  down  Trotty's  cheeks  as 
She  lays  her  head  against  the  cushioned  seat,  and  draws  her 
w  lute  apron  over  her  face.  She  cries  bitterly  for  a  while, 
then  th"  sobs  grO'H  lainterand  fainter,  until,  rocked  b\  the 
motion  of  the  boat.  Trotty  falls  asleep  as  soundly  as  if  she 
were  under  the  pink  curtains  of  her  own  bed  at  home. 

Now-  Ibis  same  Ma\  morning,  returning  home  after  a 
longvo\  age,  agreal  ship  comes  sailing  over  the  sea.  There 
are  a  number  of  passengers  on  deck  watch  ing  the  land  they 
have  not  seen  for  so  many  days.  The  Captain  stands  on 
the  bridge,  looking  through  his  glass  at  the  dill'ereiit  places 
they  are  passing.  I  !y  and  by  lie  looks  at  .something  near- 
er, something  small  and  white,  thai  comes  dancing  over 
the  waves.  As  the  ship  approaches,  he  sees  that  it  is  a 
little  boat,  and  that  there  is  a  pivilv  child  King  in  it.  Now 
the  Captain  has  a  little  girl  al  home  just  the  age  of  Trotty, 
and  when  he  sees  her  sleeping  under  tin-  striped  awning, 
he  thinks  how  hadh  be  would  feel  were  his  own  lit  lie  one 
carried  away  like  that  :  so  he  gives  orders  to  have  the  ves 
sel  stopped,  and  sends  some  sailors  in  a  boat  after  Ihe  little 
wanderer.  By-and  by  Trolly  wakesupsuddenK  .  and  finds 
thai  she  has  been  carried  on  to  the  great  ship,  and  thai  she 


.irxi:  i-j. 


YOUNG 


507 


is  lyin;r  in  sunn-  <>u<-'*  :irin.-.  surrounded  hy  stranjrerx.  who 
are  all  looking  at  her.  But  although  Trotty  was  verj  much 
frightened  at  tin-  water.  -.In-  is  not  at  all  afi-aiil  nf  people: 
MI  -.In-  slru:r:-rles  down  from  tin-  (  'a|itaiu'.-  arms,  ami  -;i\  s, 
frruvdy.  as  nnr-e  hail  tauirht  IHT. 

"  1  low  do  ymi  (In  :" 

Tlii-~  make-  evervhody  laiiirli.  Then  a  tall  yoiinir  man. 
who  is  .-ittiiiir  dose  liy  her.  lifts  Trolly  mi  his  knee. 

"Come  here,  little  line."  he  says,  "ami  tell  me  your 
name,  and  ho\v  you  happened  i.,  be  BO  i'ar  from  Immc." 

"  It'-.  Trotty.       I'm  looking  fur  I'nele  Fred 

.1  IS\  then  -he  see-  one  of  t  lie  pa --en.  '>•/  a  white 

handkerchief  to  an  outgoing  -learner  they  are  p.. 

She  jump-  iluwn.  ami  pull-  out  the  wee  handkerchief,  to- 

ther  with   the   pour  slar  li-h   and  mat as   locket,  h,  il  h 

of  which   she  ha-  entirely   t'orirotten.      They   fall    on    the 

deck,   while   Trolly   daliees    ahout.    Wavi-  1    hy    to  the 

III    r    lie\V    friend    -loop-,  pleks   Up  the    loekel.  and 

the  8l       tisli  haek   into  the  i,, -re  he  i-  quite 

happy  avrain. 

"  Trolly."  he  exclaims,  suddenly.  "  who  i-  ll, 

••  i  ih.  that's  I'nele  Fred,     ins  -.  •  PS  T 

Then  Trot  I  \    i-    in, ,ie  asloni-hed   than   -he  ha-  INM-M    all 
:  in";  maii.  snatchim/-  her  up.  ki—  •  •-  her.  and 

asks   her   so    man\    i|Ue>i  ion-  that    she  can   hardly  an-wer 

them:    hut  sin-  tell-    him   all    ahotil    ma la.  and   tie 

ver\    -tr:ini.'-e  that   he  ha-    never  heard   of  papa  or  lie 
In-other.       He    is  never  tired   of  a-kinir   ahi.  ipapa: 

hut    wh'-n   lhe\    -p,-ik  of  him.  Trolly   thinks  h< 
(|Uainlance    i-   a    761  IDg  fellow,  for  when  she 

tells  him  what  niir-c  and  mamma  -aid  a hout  I  "nele  Fred, 
and  how  grandpapa  grieved  for  him.  a  tear  roll- down  his 
cheek. 

••  I'.le--   me!"  cries  Tr.>tty.   wipimr   il  with    her 

handkerchief.        ''rear-   to   me  I'ncle   Fred    make- e-. 
hody  cry. 

"And   'pears  In   me."  an-wer-  In-r    friend,  "when 

ty  goes  home  she  will  make  everybody  \er\  happy.      \  »\i 

d'ear  little  trirl.  I  heli.-ve  \.ni  are  a  little  an;_'d  seni  to 
lirite-.  me  a  In  ipe  .  if  forgiven- 

"No,  I'm   not."  repln-s  Troiiy  ;"  hut   Mi—  Carlotl 

i   Idiie  one." 

Then  Trolly  i-  interrupted  in  her  turn  hy 
the  ('aptain.  uho  ln-ini:'-  the  steward'  •-  to 
take  her  to  luncheon,  which  pleases  Trot  ty. 
for  she  is  very  hungry  indeed  hy  this  time. 
Al'l'-r  luncheon  .-he  lake-  another  nap.  and 
then  wakes  to  find  that  the  jrreji 
stopped,  and  that  her  IH-U  i'riend  is  Waiting 
to  lake  her  had.  to  mamma.  The\  have  to 
iro  a  Imi.^  \\ay.  for  they  take  lirst  a  call,  then 
a  ferrv  lioat.  and  linally  the  cai-s.  hel'ore  they 

arrive  at  the  little  village  by  the  sea,  the  name 

of  \\hich  Trot  I  _v  has  fortunately  rememher- 
ed.  Thcv  walk  up  the  street,  as  the  sun  is 
Betting,  until  they  reach  the  pretlv  cottage 
with  the  roses  Mi-owinir  over  it.  Mamma 
and  grandpapa  are  standinir  in  the  doorway, 
lookiii".'.  oli  :  BO  worried.  The  yomm'  man 
s\\  in^-s  tin-  yate  open. 

"  l-'alher'."    lie  I'alters. 

"  (  )li.  dear  mamma  !"  cries  Trotty. 

Then  Trotty  thinks  that  every  one  has 
•June  cra/.y.  for  Miss  (  'arlotla  comes  from  the 
parlor,  papa  comes  from  the  lihrar\  .  and  ill  a 
moment  there  is  such  laiii;-hin^  and  crying 
holh  together,  that  poor  Trotty  is  quite  he- 
wiidered.  I'.y  and  hy  she  leathers  from  what 
is  e.ime-  i,,i  that  she  has  really  and  truly 
found  her  uncle  Kn-d.  and  hroii.Li'ht.  him 
home  safely  to  grandpapa,  who  is  holding 
him  now  h\  the  hand,  as  if  he  never  meant 
to  lose  si^-ht  of  him  a  train. 


I'  ar  little  puss!"  says  I'nde  I-'iv.l.  "If  it  had  not 
heeii  for  her.  1  should  not  have  found  you  for  a  lonir  time, 
you  have  moved  so  far  from  the  old  home." 

"  She's  a  perfect  little  anirel."  says  mamma,  stoopiiiir  to 
kiss  her.  "  l)o  you  ever  expect  to  >cc  a  sweeter,  l-'red  .'" 

Hut  I'nde  Fred  looks  at  Miss  (.'arlolta.  Trotty  goes 
olt'  to  the  nursery,  and  lindinir  ]mor  .lemima.  tell-  hi  r  .ill 
ahout  the  wonderful  dav  .-he  has  had. 


KAIUV    ARMOR ' 
K;\V|(i(ilN   arms  him   for  the   Meld, 

A    little    ( kle  shell    his    shield. 

Which   lie   could    \er\     hra\dy    wield; 

Vet   could    it    not    he   pierced  : 
11:-.   -pear   a    helll    holh    still'  and    slronir. 
And   well   near  of  two  indie-   long; 

The    pile    was    of    a     hor-e    fly's 

tongue, 

\Vlio-e   sharpness    naught    re 
\  erscd. 

And  puts  hi n  a  coat  of  mail, 

Which    was   of  a    lish's   scale. 
That    when    his   foe   should   him 

assail, 

No  point  should  lie  prevailing: 

I  li-  rapii  r  \\a-  a   hornet's  sliny: 

II  ua-   a   \er\    da  IILII  rou-   tiling, 
For   if   In-  chanced    to   hurl    the    Kin;', 

It    \\ould    he   hme;   in    healing. 


.n 
died  1631. 


The  Court  of  Fairy.     By  MICHAEL  DKAYTON.      l!<i:n 


J3II3 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


His  helmet  was  a  beetle's  head, 
Most  horrible  and  full  of  dread. 
That  able  was  to  strike  one  dead, 

Yet  did  it  well  become  him: 
And  for  a  plume  a  horse's  hair. 
Which,  being  tossed  with  the  air. 
Had  force  to  strike  his  foe  with  fear. 

And  turn  his  weapon  from  him. 

Himself  he  011  an  earwig  set, 
Yet  scarce  he  on  his  back  could  get, 
So  oft  and  high  he  did  curvet, 
Ere  he  himself  could  settle: 
He  made  him  turn  and  stop  and  bound, 
To  gallop,  and  to  trot  the  round; 


He  scarce  could  stand  on  any  ground, 
He  was  so  full  of  mottle. 

When  soon  he  met  with  Tomalin, 
One  that  a  valiant  knight  had  been, 
And  to  King  Oberon  of  kin; 

Quoth  he,  "Thou  manly  Fairy, 
Tell  Oberon  I  come  prepared, 
Then  bid  him  stand  upon   his  guard; 
This  hand  his  baseness  shall  reward, 

Let  him  be  ne'er  so  wary. 

"Say  to  him  thus,  that  I  defy 
l(i<  slanders  and  his  infamy, 
.And  as  a  mortal   enemy 
Do  publicly  proclaim  him : 


Withal  that  if  I  had  mine  own, 
He  should  not  wear  the  Fairy  crown, 
But   with   a   vengeance   should   come   dowil, 
Nor  we  a  king  should  name  him." 

This  Tomalin  could  not  abide. 
To  hear  his  sovereign  vilified; 
But  to  the  Fairy  Court  him  hied 

(Full    furiously    lie    posted  i. 
With  everything  Pigwiggin   said: 
How  title  to  the  crown   lie  laid, 
And  in   what  arms  lie  was  arrayed, 

As  how  himself  he  boasted. 


'Twixt    head   and   I'm  it.   from   point    to   point, 
1  le   told    the   annum    of  eaeh   joint. 
Ill  every  piece  how   neat   and  quaint, 

For  Tomalin   could  do   it  : 
How  fair  he  sat.  how  sure  lie  rid. 
As  of  the  courser   he   hestrid, 
How   managed,  anil    how    well    lie  did, 

The  King  which   listened  to  it. 

C,)uoth  he.  "Go,  Tomalin.  with  speed. 
Provide  me  arms,  provide  my  steed. 
And  everything  that    1   shall   lived; 
By  thee  1  will  be  guided: 


U.  1883. 


HAUPEU-S  v«»r.\<;  PEOPLE. 


509 


Tii  slraiL'ht    :H-I  .....  u!    call   tliou 

th\     wit. 
See   then-    he    want  inir    n<>!    a 

whit, 
In   everytl  tlmu   me 

lit.  ' 

.lust   as  my  I'm  -  in"1- 

Soon    Hew  this  ne\\  s   through 

Fairy    I-ind. 
Which    i_rav.-    (.hiei-M    Mali    ti> 

understand 

Tin-   combat    that    was  thru    in 

hand 

Bel        •      those     iin-ii      MI 

i  1  1  y  : 
Which    L'reatly  she    l»"_':m    I.. 

rue. 
Perceiving     ih.it     all     Kair\ 

knew. 
Tin-     lir-t     occa-ion     fl-nlri    lic-r 

grew 

(  »f  llii"M-  all'air-.  BO  XM-i^hly. 


A    wliile     thi-rr     l>'t     We     \l      ' 

alone, 

Ami  come  we  i'i  Kir^-  <  il»-- 
ron, 

\\'\n>.  arinc  il    In   im-i-t    ln>   I'm-. 

I  s    Lr"  1  1  '  '  . 

Fur   |ii-iin<l    I'iu-ui 

MIL1 


\\"liu  snULrlil    tin-   Kairy    Kin^  as   fast, 
And   hail   so   wi-11    his  jmirni  \^  i-asl. 
That    In'   arnvril    at    tin-    last, 
!!•-    |iin--ant    I'm-   i's|i\  in.ir: 

Stunt    Tiiinalin    fame    with    ||M-    k'iirj. 

TI.III   Thiini  ilntli  on 

Tliat    |icrf<  rt    wen-    in    rveryt  h  inir, 

TII    -iiiL'h-    liL'hls    lirliniL'-iii^: 
And    ihiTrfin-c    thry    thein-rlvrs   riiL'.i 
T'  i   -•  6   tin-in   i-\i-rrisi-   I  hi-ir   niL''-. 
\\"ith    fair  and   cuiiii-ly   ri|iii]ia'_r'1. 

Nut   mil-  the  oilier 


Sn   like   in   anus  these  elianipinns   were, 
As   they   had   lieen   a    very   pair, 

So  that   a   man    would  almost   suear, 

That    either    had    hi-i-n    I'illier: 
Their   furious  sti  i-ds   he^an   to   neijrli, 
That    lhe\     were    ln-ai-d   a    mi^lity    way; 
Their  staves   upon   their  rests  they   lay; 
Yet  ere  they  Hew  together, 

Tln-ir  seeonds  minister  an   oath. 
Which   was  indill'i-ri-iit    to  them   hoth. 
That   on   tin  -n-  knightly    I'ailli  and  troth 

No  niafjic  them  s\i]i|ilied; 
Am!  souu-ht  them  that  they  had  no  charms, 
Wherewith   to   work  each   other's   harms, 
But  came-   with  simple  open  arms 

To  have  their  causes  tried. 


Together  furiously  they  ran. 

That  to  the  ground  came  horse  and  man; 

The  blood  out   of  their  helmets  span. 

So  sharp  were  their  encounters; 
And  though  they  to  the  earth  were  thrown, 
Yet  quickly  they  regained  their  own, 
Such  nimblcness  was  never  shown, 

They  were  two  gallant  mounters. 


510 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  SUPPOSE  that  many  of  you  are  at  present 
very  busy  in  school.  Examinations  are  going 
on  with  spirit,  and  your  teachers  are  trying  to 
find  out  how  much  you  have  learned  during  the 
past  year.  After  examination  comes  vacation, 
and  although  that  period  is  still  a  little  way  off, 
I  have  a  word  or  two  to  say  about  it  now. 

It  may  be  that  some  of  the  older  buy*  will  go 
on  pleasant  walking  tours  witli  their  comrades, 
perhaps  under  the  care  of  a  professor  or  a  grown- 
up brother,  perhaps  by  themselves.  If  so,  the 
Post-office  Box  would  like  to  hear  some  of  their 
experiences.  Write  of  your  adventures,  boys,  if 
you  have  any,  or  tell,  on  the  other  hand,  about 
your  discoveries.  If  you  are  able  to  add  any  cu- 
rious specimens  to  your  cabinets  or  herbariums, 
be  sure  to  send  the  rest  of  us  a  bit  of  deseriptii  >n. 
which  we  will  be  glad  to  read. 

The  girls,  no  doubt,  will  prove  the  skill  they 
ha\e  acquired  a-  Little  Housekeepers  by  making 
up  dainty  luncheons  for  fishing  excursions  and 
forest  picnics.  All  young  fishermen  and  fisher- 
women  may  write  about  their  setting  out  in  the 
early  morning,  their  delightful  scampers  over  the 
dewy  fields,  and  tln-ir  patient,  silent  waiting  by 
the  stream  for  the  fish  to  bite.  Oh,  the  thrill 
which  Hies  from  the  fingers  to  the  heart  when 
there  is  a  sudden,  strong  pull  on  the  line  !  Let 
me  whisper  it,  girls  and  boys,  and  don't  laugh  at 
me.  but  that  pull  is  a  thing  that  frightens  me  so 
that  I  want  to  turn  and  run  away,  and  come  to 
tisli  anot  her  day. 

What  do  you  take  in  your  baskets  when  you 
go  on  a  picnic?  I  would  like  to  hear  of  some 
picnic  dinners. 

The  children  who  stay  at  home  through  vaca- 
tion often  have  quite  as  good  times  as  those  who 
go  away.  The  good  times  we  have,  dears,  de- 
pend so  very  much  on  ourselves,  you  know.  Who 
can  lind  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs  a  certain  verse 
about  a  merry  heart?  Whoever  learns  it  may 
recite  it  to  mamma,  and  then  take  it  for  a  vaca- 
Tion  motto.  I  am  very  glad  that  verse  is  in  the 
Bible,  for  I  so  dearly  love  merry  hearts  and  cheer- 
ful faces. 

Remember  that  we  want  the  Post-office  Box  to 
be  as  bright  and  sweet  as  the  summer  itself  in 
this  season  of  flowers  and  fun.  Little  travellers 
must  think  of  it  when  they  see  wonderful  things 
in  foreign  lands,  and  little  ones  at  home  be  on 
the  watch  for  the  pleasant  things  that  happen 
nearly  every  day. 

There  is  always  a  welcome,  too,  for  the  big 
brothers  and  the  young  lady  sisters.  I  need  not 
say  one  word  with  regard  to  the  letter  which  is 
No.  1  on  our  list  this  \veek.  You  will  all  be  de- 
lighted to  read  it.  I  am  sure  : 

ST.  MARY'S  HOSPITAL,  NKW  YORK  CITY. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— Each  day  when  I  go  into 
Holy  Innocents'  Ward  the  tablet  over  Young  Peo- 
ple's  Cot  reminds  me  that  we  Sisters  have  not  yet 
written  one  word  to  tell  the  readers  of  YOUNG 
I'EIUM.K  how  earnestly  we  thank  them  for  their 
loving  work.  But  those  of  their  number  who 
have  been  here  will  be  able  to  realize  how  very 
like  we  are,  in  some  respects,  to  a  certain  "old 
woman  who  lived  in  a  shoe"  (the  great  difference 
being  in  the  fact  that  we  try  to  get  "them  all" 
out  of  "  hea"  as  sonii  as  possible',  and  will,  we 
trust,  be  ready  to  accept  the  assurance  that  our 
silence  has  not  been  owing  to  any  want  of  grati- 
tude. 

Since  the  first  subscription  was  given  we  have 
watched  with  the  greatest  interest  the  progress 
of  the  endowment,  and  so,  to  our  eyes,  the  little 
brass  ta'il-'t  tells  of  many  ail  act  of  loving  self- 
denial  fully  known  only  to  Him  who  blesses  the 
giver  of  a  "cup  of  cold  water"  if  offered  in  His 
name.  In  His  name,  therefore,  and  on  behalf  of 
all  the  little  suffering  children  who  will  hereafh  r 
be  cared  for  in  Young  People's  Cot.  we  beg  to 
thank  your  readers  for  relieving  us  for  all  time 
from  any  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  support  of  the 
bed.  But  we  hope  that  they  will  continue  their 
interest,  and  now  that  we  arc  getting  our  Sea-side 
II' Hue  reaily  for  use.  we  depend  on  their  assist- 
ance. Those  whose  gifts  were  too  late  for  the 

endowment  of  the  Cut  will  he  glad  to  know  that 
their  money  will  be  used  to  pay  little  Sadie's  ex- 
penses  at  the  sea-side,  and  those  who  have  not 
•   weary  in  well-doing  will  find  in  the  Fresh- 
air  Fund  a  new  field  for  work. 
Through  Miss  Fanshawe  we  have  received  from 


Harold  B.  Fobes  82  that  he  earned  last  winter, 
and  from  Louie  N.  Marcotte  $1,  also,  through  the 
Postmistress,  $1  from  a  friend  in  Paris,  and  50 
cents  from  Alice  W..  Albert  \V..and  Then.  Hast- 
ings. This  money  will  be  put  in  the  Fresh-air 
Fund. 

To-day  two  packages  have  been  received  fr<  >m 
readers  i>f  VOTM;  PEOPLE;  one  contained  wild 
flowers  for  Sadie  from  a  young  friend  in  smith 
Greenfield.  Long  Island  ;  the  other  was  a  box  of 
toys  and  books  from  Hobble  and  Eddie  Dodge 
and  Bessie  Gray.  Newburyport.  Massachusetts. 
N;I ' lie  was  charmed  with  the  flowers,  and  the  toys 
and  books  have  been  distributed  among  the  home- 
sick children,  eighteen  of  -whom  have  been  ud- 
mitted  recently.  Your  grateful  friends. 

SISTERS  op  ST.  MART  (per  Sister  S.). 


FORT  WHIPPLB,  PRKSCOTT,  ARIZONA. 

We  came  out  to  this  place  last  September  with 
Gel  '  r.il  Crook  and  several  other  officers  from 
( Pmaha.  Nebraska.  We  had  a  lovelv  trip  in  a  spe- 
cial car  until  we  came  to  the  terminus  of  the  A. 
and  P.  R.  R.,  and  then  we  came  over  a  terribly 
rough  road  sixty-three  miles  in  an  ambulance 
I  and  my  little  brother,  \\h.>  is  just  seven  years 
old.  thought  it  pretty  jolly  to  camp  out  at  night 
and  sleep  in  a  tent,  but  our  mamma  was  terribly 
tired. 

This  is  a  beautiful  country. but  wild  and  deso 
late.  We  have  picked  up  a  great  many  pretty 
stones  here,  and  have  quite  a  collection.  <  iener- 
al  Crook  has  gone  down  into  Mexie, ,  with  a  num- 
ber of  Indian  scouts  and  some  white  soldiers,  and 
we  hope  he  will  catch  and  punish  those  h<  n-riMe 
Indians,  the  Apaches,  and  bring  back  safely  little 
Charley  JlcComus,  whom  they  captured  not  long 
ago. 

We  have  a  little  pet  squirrel,  ami  .lames,  our 
man.  has  made  him  a  very  nice  cage  with  a  wheel 
\Vhen  we  first  came  here  \\  e  ha<l  ;i  scorpion  ;md 
a  centipede  and  several  horned  toads  I'm-  pets, 
but  our  mamma  objected  to  them,  and  likes  the 
squirrel  much  better.  This  is  a  delightful  el i mate, 
except  in  the  spring,  since  March  the  wind  has 
blown  almost  constantly,  but  we  boys  manage 
to  slay  out-of-doors  most  of  the  time,  and  6UJOJ 
ourselves  very  much. 

There  is  a  band  here,  ami  we  have  dress  parade 
twice  a  week,  our  grandmamma, who  lives  in 
Texas,  has  subscribed  tor  'i  01  M;  I'KOIM.I:  for-  us. 
and  mamma  reads  to  us  every  night  \\  e  like  all 
the  stories,  but  especially  "  Raising  ,he  'pearl  "' 
I  shall  be  ten  years  old  next  month.  If  this  let 
ter  is  not  too  long.  1  would  be  glad  to  see  it  in 
the  Post-office  Box.  I  have  a  stamp  album  with 
:',;,"•  stamps.  CHARLIE  DUVAL  It. 

P.S.— A  friend  sent  us  in  some  cherries  to  day 
that  were  sent  her  from  Tucson,  and  nn  little 
brother  says  his  motto  is.  "  Kat  all  the  cherries 
you  can  get."  which  is  a  very  -ale  one  here,  as 
cherries  are  scarce  enough  at  Fort  Whipple. 


the  gods.  Wherever  the  Christian  religion  pre- 
vails this  dreadful  state  of  things  is  stopped,  and 
3  letter  Is  to  me  like  a  white  flower,  show- 
ing that  spring  has  come  after  a  long  cold  win- 
ter. How  glad  we  shall  be  when  we  hear  that  all 
over  the  world  girls  are  as  much  prized  as  boys  ! 


BBYROUT,  SYRIA. 

My  uncle  sends  me  HARPER'S  y.,i  \..  PEOPLE. 
and  I  like  it  very  much.  I  think  it  is  a  \>T\  nice 
idea  to  have  a  Young  Housekeepers'  Society,  and 
I  would  like  very  much  to  lie  a  member  I  atu 
very  fond  of  cooking,  and  am  always  delighted 
when  I  am  sent  into  the  kitchen  to  do  anything 
there.  I  have  a  big  apron,  which  I  wear  \\hen  1 
am  going  to  cook ;  it  covers  my  dress  and  sleeves, 
and  is  just  the  kind  of  apron 'that  1  like  I  send 
you  a  receipt  for  an  Arab  dish  that  we  often  make  ; 
it  is  called  mnghly  : 

One  scant  tea-cupful  of  pounded  rice,  four  ta- 
ble-spoonfuls of  sugar,  two  tea- spoonfuls  of 
pounded  caraway-seed,  one  tea-spoonful  of  gin- 
ger, one  tea-spoonful  of  cinnamon,  and  a  little 
more  than  one  pint  of  water :  mix  and  boil  until 
it  is  about  as  thick  as  oatmeal  porridge  :  pour 
into  a  bowl,  and  cover  with  blanched  almonds, 
pistachio-nuts,  walnuts,  and  pine-cone  seeds.  It 
may  be  eaten  hot  or  cold,  but  hot  is  better 

This  dish  used  to  be  made  whenever  a  little 
boy  was  born,  and  the  parents  used  to  send  bowls 
of 'it  to  all  the  friends,  but  now  it  is  made  tor 
girls  too.  If  any  of  the  readers  of  VIU-M;  I'KO- 
PLE  make  it,  I  hope  they  will  write  and  tell  the 
Postmistress  how  they  like  it.  I  think  it  is  \  cry 
nice,  but  others  may  not. 

FLOSSIE  VAN  D.  (12  years  old). 

This  is  a  novelty  indeed.  An  Arab  dish,  the  re- 
ceipt coming  all  the  way  from  Syria  !  We  are 
very  glad  to  include  you  among  our  Little  House- 
keepers, Flossie,  and  before  you  receive  this  num- 
ber of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever  so  many  of  us  will 
have  tried  mughly,  and  be  able  to  say  whether 
or  not  we  like  it.  There  is  one  sentence  in  your 
letter  which  tells  a  u'reat  deal  to  thoughtful  read- 
ers. Formerly  the  rejoicings  were  made  only 
when  a  boy  was  born  :  now  the  parents  are  glad, 
and  look  for  congratulations,  when  a  dear  little 
girl  is  added  to  the  family.  It  would  seem  very 
strange  to  you,  would  it  not.  children,  it  eyerj 
body  were  to  cry  and  be  sorry  because  a  darling 
little  daughter  was  lying  in  her  mother's  arms? 
yet,  in  heathen  lands  feelings  of  grief  and  anger 
are  expressed  when  girls  are  born.  You  see  sul- 
len looks  and  dark  frowns,  and  there  is  no  love 
ready  for  the  poor  forlorn  little  babe,  who  is 
thought  to  have  been  sent  to  show  the  \\  rath  of 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

I  want  to  tell  you  a  true  story  about  two  birds 
of  ours.  Their  names  are  Dick  and  Daisy,  one 

day  we  let  them  out  into  the  room,  after  shutting 
the  door  :  then  «.  all  went  out  Alter  a  while 
my  brother  Louis  went  into  the  room,  and  not 
seeing  1'aisv.  he  said  to  Dick.  "Dick,  where  is  Dai- 
sy?" Hick  Hew  to  the  top  of  a  picture  and  look- 
ed behind  it.  as  much  as  to  say.  "  Here  she  is." 
and  sure  enough,  as  I.. mis  pulled  the  picture 
from  the  wall,  she  llew  out.  She  was  not  a  bit 
hurt.  LOTTIE  P. 

I  think  we  ought  to  be  careful  how  we  talk 
before  birds,  cats,  and  dogs.  They  often  seem 
to  understand  us  in  a  very  wonderful  way. 


So  often  did   I  enjoy  the  stories   about  the 
young  I pie's  pets  that  when  the  incident  de- 

scrilied    lirlo\\    occurred    I   thought    I    must    tell    it 

to  you.  our  Nero,  a  large  Newfoundland  .log. 
lay  ill  the  garden  by  the  road-side,  busily  em 
ployed  in  gnaw  ing  and  scraping  a  delicious  bone 
presented  to  him  by  the  cook  as  a  reward  for 
having  waited  for  one  so  long  and  so  patiently. 
The  neighbor's  little  cm'  happened  to  pass  liy. 
not  iced  the  large  dog  \\  ith  his  treasure,  and  feel- 
ing his  appetite  grow  ing  too  keen,  stopped  to  see 
what  could  be  done  to  satisfy  it.  After  a  mo- 
ment's deliberation  he  began  !o  creep  like  a  eat. 
slowly, noiselessly, until  he  was  nearly  behind  his 
victim,  when  he  stnldi  nh  gave  the  fiercest  how- 
wow  he  was  able  to  gi\  e  Nero,  e,  •mpletely  un- 
aware of  any  danger,  was  so  frightened  that  he 
took  to  bis  heels  with  all  his  might,  leaving  the 
Coveted  feast  to  t  be  cunning  cur.  who  t bis  time 
i  In  I  not  wait,  but  ran  off  with  Ids  ill-gotten  booty 
in  the  opposite  direction.  AIM  in  i:  I'. 


WAIMT  Hum,  CINCINNATI,  OHIO. 

I  am  a  little  girl  I  wclve  years  old.  and  as  1  like 
II  \  nri  i:'s  \  or  M;  PEOPLE  I  thought  1  would  write 

ei      [  go  to  school,  and  have  ten  studii     i  - 
sides  music, which  1  take  at  home.     I  like  to  go 
to  set 1   \cry   much.     Last   winter,  during  the 

tlooil.eaeh    teacher    in    the    school    requested    the 

scholars  to  bring  a  pound  of  something  that  aft- 
ernoon, not  more  than  one  pound  of  the  same 
thing,  and  almost  everybody  brought  six  or  sev- 
en different  things.  That  evening  the  principal 
had  lo  order  a  f  ll  rn  it  lire  car  to  take  them  to  t  he 
city. 

I  have  no  pet-  except  a  I  it  t  le  sUt .  T  1 1m  -e  M  'a  rs 
old.  I  tried  the  chocolate  creams  last  evening 
alter  school,  and  we  all  thought  they  were  splen 
did.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeep- 
ers, and  \\  ill  soon  senu  some  nice  n  e<  ipts 

FLORENCE  T.  C. 

I  suppose  the  pounds  contributed  by  the  pu- 
pils were  sent  to  tin1  poor  people  who  had  lost 

e\  cr\  1  hing  in  the  Hood.      If  so.  it  was  a  \  er\   - I 

idea  on  the  part  of  the  teachers,  ami  no  doubt 
you  all  took  pleasure  in  helping  to  carry  it  out. 


PAWKBI    A.iVM  \ ,  ISM  »\  TRRitiTintY. 

The  Post-office  I!ox  is  very  interesting  to  me, 
and  I  can  not  resist  the  temptation  to  write  a 
letter.  This  is  a  beautiful  place,  surrounded  by 
high  hills  on  even  ^\''  I'lackp.cari  re.  k  Hows 
t  hn  nigh  the  place,  and  is  a  nice  little  stream  tilled 
with  tish,  which  we  catch  with  bent  pins.  I  tell 

you  it  is  line  sport.  S etimcs  some  of  us  fall 

in  and  get  wet. 

There  are  only  a  few  white  people  here,  this 
being  the  \gency  for  the  pawnee  tribe  of  Indians. 
They  used  to  be  a  very  powerful  and  warlike 
tribe, but  civilization  does  not  seem  to  agree  with 

them,  as  there  were  only   IMKI  at   the  last   <-.  lisas. 

My  father  is  carpenter  for  the  Indians,  and  he  has 
two  Indian  boys  as  apprentices.  Tin  re  is  ,-m  in- 
dustrial school  here  for  the  boys  and  girls,  in 
which  there  are  eighty  scholars.  M y  sisters  and 
I  went  to  the  Indians' school  a  long  while,  but 
now  we  have  a  school  of  our  own.  with  thirteen 
scholars,  all  children  of  government  employes. 

I  can  talk  Pawnee  quite  well,  I  am  a  girl,  and 
ten  years  old.  We  can  have  lots  of  pets,  such  as 
horned  toads,  li/ards.  centipedes,  and  scorpions. 
The  story  about  Paw  nee  .1.  ie  delighled  the  Indian 
boys  and  girls.  Thcv  alw  a  ys  en jo\  reading  \  01  M, 
PEOPLE  Some  of  them  are  prdt\  well  educated, 
and  they  are  all  good  penmen.  (.'OKA  A.  \\. 


Mt-aal'KS.  t'clNNECTICl'T. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  and  I  hr.ye  it  cnl 
which  is  just  as  old  as  I  am.  Her  name  is  Pussy 
Tiptoes, and  she  has  one  little  kitten.  I  keep  the 
kitten  iii  a  basket  in  t  he  coal  shed.  One  Sunday 
not  long  ago  she  took  the  kitten  in  her  mouth 
and  brought  it  around  the  house  to  the  front 
door,  and  when  1  opened  the  door  she  brought  ir 
into  the  room  where  \\ v  wen-,  and  put  it  in  the 
corner  back  of  a  chair,  [thought  I  would  Id  her 
stay  there  a  little  while.  When  I  called  her  to 
come  and  eat  her  dinner,  where  do  you  suppose 


JTNK   rj.  l-ss::. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


.Ml 


she  put  II.T  kitten?  on  the  ivgister.  to  keep 
warm  wh:l>  --.  \\  "a-n  I  that  cnnniDg 

in  Mrs-  Tip" 

My  i  me  HAKFEB'S  YOUHO  PEOPLB  for 

a  birthday  present,  ami  lif  couldn't  give  TIM'  any- 
thing  1  would  like  better.  I  enjoy  reading  the 
stories  -o  much.  MAY  K.  M. 


Oawic...  Ni:- 

My  teacher  asked  me  tn  write  to  t 

lie.*'.       I    Will   IK-    twelve    year-    "Id    tlif    -'-H    of  Xo- 

r,      I  am  the  son  of  a  Methodist   minister, 
ami  my  father  is  now  station, .,|   at   tin-  < 
Oswego     i     -       school,  and  like  my  studies  very 

much       I    -tu'iy    readiiiL'.    -pcllin::.    L'eography. 
arithir,.  ike   drawing  and    writing   |e-- 

inir    pr.  .gramme    has    tjoth    writing    and 
drawing  lessons  t"i-  this  time. 
Oswego  is  a  very  fine  city,  and  lies  on  th< 

:  •  nitario.  and  i  h--ro  are  c\ 

in  Hi.-  sumo 

WlLl.lt.  i'l> 

I    am   a    little  boy  Mv 

-choi.l.  -.nci  -tndv  reading.  -i"-iliiiL'.  geography, 
and  arithmetic  ;  1  read  in  Harper  - 
Fourth    Rl    II  '  II    In  mi   a   .--pell,  i 

by  the  -aim-  pnbh-li.-i  -       I  I    IV6  1  .-.  >  Mil  one  nets 

•  'i  i.'.-ck  chickens  and black 

and  white  raiibit.     I  like  natural  hi-t»rv  :  I  have 

eolleeted  BODQI          H  .11          \\  <     i.al  e   1  IV.  . 

I  have  on,-  -i-l,  r:   h.-r  name  i-  |lai->. 

I    toll!)'  ::    t  he    11 1-        lias 

III.      POSl  Mi:  111    ',!  -  \\   11.1. .11:11    I'     ' 

I  ttiink  you  must  lie  b 

•i  i--.  I  t»,  and  thi!-.. 

pretty,  though  i  prefer  the  bin. 


i n.     Hound  some  wild  plum?  in  bloom  the  1st 

.-I    May.      \\  e    lii i    a    ranch,  anil    keep  sheep. 

and   have  hundreds  of  little  lambs.      We   hale 
Mexicans  to  herd  i 

My  brother  and   I   are  learnimr  to  speak   the 
language  .  w -of  I'ike's 

I'.-ak.   Cheyenne    Moiiinain.   Miowi 
S|iaiiish  Peaks.     I  hope  tn  go  to  the  Ilenver  Kxpo- 
sition  this  summer,  ami  1  will  write  and  tell  yon 
w  hat  1  -n   1). 

Si-r.iv.,  Nrw  YOBK. 

As  I  have  been  having  the  mea-le-.  and  ean  not 
read  very  much  on  account  of  my  eyes.  I  thought 
1  would  write.  I  have  -ent  two  wiggles  to  II  u: 

I  OIN,.  I'KoI'l.t:.  the  -ecolid  one  belli:;  pub- 
lished. I  had  a  turtle  and  a  carp,  but  the  turtle 
died.  I  have  eight  elephants,  and  tin  y  all  have 
blankets  and  hcad-drc--  ,.-  t  \\  o  little 

on.--.  :  they  MI-,-  mad.-  on          -  '    Manuel,  and 

ar.-  very  niee  tor  my  circus      My  -malie-l  -ister. 
who  is  ten  years  old.  ean  play  the  piano  and  sing 
very  well      Mi  oih.-r  sisti  r.  who  go,-»  to 
iol.  is  going  to  play  at  Colnmeneei 


W.TI.C 

[  ha\      '  _-  ^  ..i  •...  l'i  .. 1-1  i  for tWO 

and  Ihink  it  i-  a  very  niee  paper.     I  like  "  I 
the  '  I'earl'  "  and  .liinmy  lii-ow  n'-  -t  .,ri.-s  („  -t  of 
all.     I  have  n.,t   many  pet-  to  l.-ll  about,  only  a 
doe  that  will  8l  ton  a  chair  with  a  hat  on  hi-  head, 
and    th.-n    1    have  a  ealf  I  h.it    I 

With.        I     hale    one    o!     1! 

that  , •-.  .:-  old       II    r  name 

is  Flora.     I  am  ten.  :  u  \>. 


uExr.  li  i 

I  .mi  in-!  t,  n  y.-ars  old      I  have  no  broihers  or 
-i-t >•!•-.  •  \ccpi  m\-  litt  I,-  brother  WUlle  in  -' 

M  \  .  i .    . 

ag".  -o  I  h.i!   maniiM.i  .1  n.  I   I  -        My  home 

is  Verl   pie.  i -a  lit .  an- 1   ma  In  In  i  -I.  -•  -  ,  1 .  r\  I  i 

can   l"   make  in.-   u'ood   ami  happi       1    iovi 

\\ ,-  liave  an  old  cistern,  and  i  i-m  all  t  h<-  ti-h  i 

ean  e:it  rh   Mil  o  il          I  en  J.  >1    M  al  -   hi  M  J  t  hem.       Then 
I  have  a  bird  and  ehiekeii-       I   n.aiM   hi..-  I.,   b, 

long  to  t  h<-  1 1-  ni--  kei  i  •'  i  -  '  Irole  although  I  am  a 
boy.     Pleas iiitmein.     .lo-i  i-n  l:  -.  i  in. ii  X. 


P-iitTL  »\f ,  OKI.J.IN. 

I  am  a  little  girl  six  years  old.  and  my  mamma 
is  wtiting  this  1,-iter  for  me  My  -i-ter  Helen 
and  I  ha\e  taken  Yoi  M.  Pioi-i  i:  ever  -in,-,-  it 
was  fir- 1  starred,  and  enjoy  it  very  iimeh.  I  am 
learning  to  r-  Eld  -  I  in  i'  :nl  the  -t.-ri.  -  to  mi- 
-olt  I  go  to  a  Kindergarten  school,  and  we  play 

and  sing  songs,  then  we  go  to  our  desks  and  read, 

then  w  •    pi  i  \  games  .ILMHI.  and  have  r --      We 

have  a  lillle  pel  kitten  that  we  call  Snowball. 
though  sh,  i-  a-  black  as  can  be;  she  comes  to 
our  room  in  the  mornings,  and  we  hale  l,,|-  ol 
fun  with  her  in  bed  till  it  is  lime  i,,  net  up  and 
dress.  We  hale  a  good  h<.r-e.  lhat  my  mamma 
drives,  named  Hickory  ;  he  n-ed  to  be  gray,  hut 
noiv  he  is  very  11  Idle.  \Ve  hale  maul  nice  rides 
about  town  and  out  into  the  woods.  In  summer 
-'.e  our  Iimeh  and  eat  it  out  then-,  anil  hunt 
tor  wild  tloiiers.  Theothirdai  mamma  left  the 
horse  while  she  went  into  a  store,  and  he  walked 
up  ami  put  his  head  into  a  baker's  earl,  and  at,- 
a  dom:li!iiit  ;  he  always  seem-  hungry,  though  he 
look-  ici-i  fat. and  love*  to  be  fed  with  era--  or 

cloi  ,-r  when  we  tie  him  anywhere.  w>-  i..i .-  mm. 
for  we  have  owned  him  a  loin;  time  :  and  he  is 
always  kind  and  good,  and  can  go  real  fast  al-o. 
We  ha\e  a  little  Mediterranean  pony  named  Hilly 
that  is  also  a  great  pet.  and  my  si'-tcr  Helen  js 
learning  lo  ride  on  him  ;  he  is  gentle,  hut  like-  to 
no  so  I'a-t  that  mamma  is  afraid  to  have  Helen 
ride  him  by  herself.  My  mamma  and  I  have 
written  this  letter,  and  want  to  surprise  Helen 
when  she  sees  it  printed  in  the  YOU.NG  PKOI-I  i  . 
MARGARET  B. 

Wir.WAM.  Kl.    I'AS.t   Cors-TY,  CuLORADO. 

A  friend  of  papa's  has  been  sending  me  Yot'NO 
PEOPLE  for  the  last  year.  When  1  have  read  it  I 
send  it  to  my  cousin  in  Pennsylvania.  I  live  on 
the  Fountain  <  'reck,  near  Colorado  Sprintrs.  It 
rises  in  lie  I 'ass.  eighteen  miles  above  Manitou, 
and  runs  into  the  Arkansas  Kiver  at  Pueblo,  fifty 
miles  below.  The  Spanish  name  is  Fountain  qni 
Bouille.  which  means  boiling  fountain,  bccan-o 
it  roars  and  tumbles  amou^  the  bowlders  and 
rocks.  I  am  eleven  years  old.  I  have  been  to 
school  ei^ht  months  this  year. 

I  have  two  brothers  and  one  sister  younger 
than  myself.  I  have  no  pets,  except  my  little 
baby  brother.  I  can  milk,  and  1  have  a  cow  named 
Buttercup.  I  have  a  pony  named  .lolly,  I  have 
to  ride  to  the  Post-office  every  Saturday  attcr- 


We  have  twenty  four  hens  and  lifr 

-It-,  live  in   Kan-as.  an 

-w  miming, 
and  we  got  into  the  -wilt  current  and  n. MI 

droWli'  •  e   little    pigs  ;    win 

Ml    l-  ipa   i-  a 

miller;  -o  will  I  be  a  miller,  once  my  father 
worked  in  a  water  mill,  when  it  i-  high  water 
they  catch  lots  of  (i-h  w  ith  a  net.  line,  1  pulled 
tlie'nel  up  and  caught  a  buffalo  -li-h.  but  tin-  net 
lell  down  into  the  water. and  the  li-h  got  auay. 
I  like  •  -.  Pearl.*"  1  have  t,.  -aw  the 

,-ord-  "  I  my  brother  splits  it ;  my  little 

brother  earn.--   the  w I   int.,  the  -bed  or  the 

lion-,-      \\  .  .    a  cat.      Ill  the  morning 

o|  up  and  laced  her  -ho,--,  the 
,'nped  on  her  back  and  looked  down  al  her. 
W 1 1  i  i 

SPOl  '  MI,-  g 1  In 'aping  cup  of  sugar. 

llaior 

i'.  ith  I-  '  Ilia,  and  hake  in  a  quick  oieti. 

This  makes  one  fl  8.  M 

ICE-CREAM  i  I          I    eight    ,-gg- 

i  to  a  stiff  froth,  two  cup-  ot  -near,  three 

. '!  tl-  air.  oi t  corn  starch,  one  of  butter,  one  of 

milk,  and  two  ten-*) nfnl-  of  baking  powder, 

.a-  i.-u  can  n-c  a  dip  .-1   -i.ur  milk  with  - 
Spoonful   of   s,,da.     Hake  this  tirst    in   jelly  tins, 

then  make  a  syrup  of  four  oups  of  sugar  and  half 

a  pint  of  boiling  water;  let  if  boil  until  il  hard- 
en- a  little  when  dropped  ill  -  :  Heat 

the  Whites  Of  four  eggs  tO  a  Stlfl  froth,  and  add 

i  tip  w  hen  rcaily.  beat  ing  hard  until  nearly 

.-old  ;'  then  spread  as  Jelly  eal.-  -] n 

I  ul  of  i- it  ric  acid  I..  I  hi-  11  Inli-  t-.  at  in.: 

LEKON  PIE.— One  lemon  squeezed  into  a  cup  of 

colii  waler.  two  egg-,  on,-  OUP  "I  -llgar. I  large 

-p.  M  infill  i  >f  c.  u  ii  -tarch,  II.  .iir,  or  a  . 

line,  one  large  -| it  ill  ot  butt,  r     I  separate  the 

egg-,  and  make  a  meringue  ' -!  Ihe  whites  to  nut 
on  top  after  the  pie  is  baked.  This  only  makes 

I'  c.  s. 


Niwni  u.ai,  MAISE. 

Would  you  like  to  hear  from 
A  little  cirl  'way  down  in  Maine, 
Su-ie  May  II.  by  name  .- 
I  have  c"t  two  lar^'e  sheep. 
And  some  little  chickens 
Saying  peep  :  peep  :  peep! 
1  have  ^ot   three  -  ats  ; 
A  large  one  named  Jack, 

Another  named  Jet, 

And  another  named   Pet  : 

Very  knowing  cats  are  they. 

And  they  all  know  how  to  play. 

I  have  taken  Yot'xri  PEOPLE  a  long  time, 

And  think  the  stories  very  fine. 

And  now  I  will  gi.'e  you  a  receipt 

For  all  of  you  to  keep  : 

Bnowx  Biii:.ii>. — Two  clips  of  Indian  meal,  two 
cups  of  Hour,  two  nips  of  sweet  milk,  one  cup  of 
sour  milk,  half  a  enp  of  molas-i •-.  and  a  heaping 
t.  a  spoonful  of  soda ;  steam  two  hours. 
\nd  now  I  will  close  my  letter. 

Perhaps  next  time  I  will  do  better 

S.  M.  B. 

The  Postmistress  thanks  Kllic  I>.  H..  Miulgo  II., 
Victor  J.,  Klsic  K.  fi.  II.,  Mabel  A.  I,.,  Lillie  M.  (i., 
Attic  A.  Do  L.,  Sue  S.  T.  «'.,  Aunt  Alnmechi,  Kate 
L.,  Walter  K.,  Archie  P.,  lluv-li  F.,aml  Jlollie  U. 
for  their  pleasant  letters  Florence  B.  :  You  are 
a  busy  girl  with  so  many  chickens  and  turkeys 


-    for.—  Kate  11.  Jl.  :  I  have  no  doubt    \,m 
hale  ['..mid  a  great  many  wild  lloivers  -n  , 

discovered  ih,-caril,--t  hcpatica-     sanili  T.  II.  : 

many   friends  who  love 

>.-n  dearly.  —  True  Friend:  YOU  ought  to  i,ai  e  told 
me  your  name.  dear,  even  though  yon  preferred 
that  it  should  not  be  published.  How  am  I  l" 
know  the  children  apart  it  they  do  not  sign  their 
name-1.-  Udn-j  I.  V.:  Vni  h.nc  a  number  of 
pets.  1  hope  ion  w  ill  i  i-i  i  si-  Mary's  when  you 
come  I..  New  York.—  Mai  II.  V.  :  lam  sorry  your 
cat  met  so  sad  a  fate.  1  1  hink  your  s\uni.i\  gel  .....  i 

lo     present      UllilTli's 

P]  "i-i  i  i"  punctual  -cholar-      l.illie  ('.  II., 
I.  J.    K..   Mouilnorth    I1.,    Tno    l.ittb'    I'la)  mutes, 

Hiil.hi  I,.  t..ami  Mnj  A.  B,  deserve  each  a  Rood 
mark  st-ici-al  lni)utn-is:  Exchanges  are  insert- 

ed without  charge.  -K.  II.  \\illi.mis,  rlarcn,l-.n 

Hotel.  Cleveland.  Ohio,  w  i-hi  s  the  address  of  the 

.     him  a  package  Of  thirty  ad- 
iciti-ing  cards. 

lTX/.l.i:s  1'liiiM  Yol'Ni;  (  (i.NTKIlU'TiiKS 
X...  1. 

Tlt.lNsl-o-i  [  io\- 

I  \-  if  c-orns  ean.  ','.  licit  ronmi  ;;  It.  soul. 
I  U  on:  l.ei  i.  am  li  I,  -'an  pains 

si\  citic-  of  the  I  nitcd  Mate-  when  properly 
arrai..  _  KI.I.A  M.  K. 

i    mil  MI 

The  omitted  words  a  iv  made  of  the  tivchc  1,  t 
tcrs  in  the  la-t   line,  which  is  the  answer  lo   the 

puzzle. 

-illl  was  like  L'.  'Id   ill  the  -kl  . 

Little  Carrie  and  I  saw  a  swiil  whirling*  *  *; 
It  led  n  ih  ii  -  wines  spinning  round, 

Till*  *  *  faces  grew  *  *  *  as  we  i  n-hcd  ,,Yr  the 
ground. 

tiled  Sammy,  a  rollicking  boy, 

race  ran  w  il  h  Imlie  and'*  *  *, 

Till  lo  '    ill  the  poll,  I    the  -licet    ll.j.'-    ucrc  seen, 
With    Holier-    -o    while,  and    \iilh    l.al     pad.s   so 

green. 

Ih.icd  a  hunch.  and  \i  e  tied  it  around 
U  ilh  a  ribl.oii  u'l'a--  band  that  we  happily  found. 
."W  through  the  meadows  went   three  of 
us  by. 
With  a  and  then  tor  the  * 

'  *.  Kiinii;  l'i  1R8OK. 


u  .  IKII    -.,.:    ',i, 

i    it  never  rests  by  night  or  by  day.    ~.  An  ad- 

jectlve  which  describe-  nearly'  all  'children.    :i. 

>'-m.  Ihing   ill   which  marlirs  have  rejoiced.      1. 

a  i  v  pal  iiients.    .",.  A  meeting  for  purposes 

..!  peace. 

No.  4. 

•ni  o  i  u.iH.inEs. 
1    My  lirst   is   French.     My  .second   is   Knglish. 

My   whole  i-   Palm 

•J  Mi  lir-t  ion  will  m-ier  lind  out  Mysei'oml 
is  founded  in  iiuth  It  would  be  a  pity  should 
ion  ever  become  my  whole. 


ANSWICHS  TO  PL'ZXI.KS  IN  No.  Ml. 
No.  1.  C  C 

TIN  N  A    X 

C    I    1)   K  R  CANOE 

N   K  T  NOT 

K  i: 

No.'.'.  Twiny  tiny.  Three  tree    Swing  sing.  Deny- 

licy.    Chair  char.    chaos-Chas. 
No.  3.  T  hum   P 

II    ons    l 

A    lie    N 

C    otil     \> 

K    ayl    1C 

E     lie     N 

K    eig    X 

A   mic   I 

Y    nft    S 
No.  4.  Pitt. 


The  answer  to  the  Shower  Puzzle  on  page  480 
of  No  is;  is  as  follows  : 

1.  A  shower.  3.  A  sower.  3.  A  rose.  4.  liars. 
5.  Sea.  (i.  E,  A.  7.  A. 


Correct  answer-  to  pnz/.les  have  been  reeehc'i 
from  Eliza  Ainslie,  Dora  Larkin,  Poland  Wcs- 
cott,  Thomas  W.  Clark.  Charles  B..  Jacob  VVilkey- 
son.  b'alph  Maury,  Alice  liewey,  Fred  II.  Nicki  r 
son.  . \rihur  Bancroft, Fannie  S.,John  S.  lirown. 
MaLri:ic  M  ,  Marian  (;  .  Ke/.iah  Morgan,  Walter 
Morell.  Krm-st  Wolkwitz.  l-:dwin  W!.  Louise  P. 
I '  .  Her!  lia  ( in-en wold,  b'ose  iv  Day,  Jane  C.  Ring, 
Teresa  M..  Alex.  MeV..  1'osie  and  Plissie,  Daisy 
Crane,  Grace  and  Franklin,  Benedict,  Clara  .M., 
Louise  p.  Underwood,  Robert  L.  Allee.  Xamdcss, 
Bluebird,  Little  Dear,  Comet,  Richard  P.  Lee,  10 va 
A.  McKean,  and  Lily  II.  Wood. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2<-t  and  3d  page*  <>j  >•»/  >  / .  | 


512 


HAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


A   CASE  FOR  MR.  BERGH. 

THE  GOLDEN  GAME  OP  GEOMETRY. 

BY  FRANK  BELLE\V. 

THIS  game  can  be  played  by  two  or  more  persons. 
One  player,  who  is  selected  by  lot  or  vote,  is  called  Presi- 
dent Euclid.  He  places  before  him  on  a  table  the  diagram  con- 
taining the  geometrical  figures.  The  other  players  range  them- 
selves round  the  table  with  their  backs  to  it,  so  that  they  can 
nut  see  the  board  or  diagram.  Each  player  is  given  a  crrtain 
number  of  beans  or  other  counters,  but  the  President  receives 
double  tlic  number  of  any  of  the  other  players. 

The  President  begins  by  placing  a  button  on  one  of  the  geo- 
metrical figures,  and  he  calls  out  to  the  person  seated  next  to 
him  on  the  left-hand  side, 

"Ho!  most  Noble  Prince  Pupil.  I  place  my  button  on  the  sixth 
figure  of  the  third  row"  (this  will  be  a  dog  in  :i  decagon). 
"  Now  what  have  I  under  my  button  ?  Yon  know  the  number, 
you  know  the  row;  guess  my  riddle,  and  away  you  go." 

Then  he  counts  twenty  aloud.  While  he  is  counting,  the  play- 
er must  tell  him  on  which  figure  he  has  placed  his  button.  If 


he  tells  him  correctly,  the  President  must  give  him  three  beans, 
but  if  he  answers  incorrectly,  he  must  give  the  President  r\vo 
beans.  If,  however,  his  answer  is  half  correct,  he  only  forfeits 
one  beau.  For  example :  in  this  case  the  proper  answer  would  be, 
"You  have  tiuder  your  button  a  dog  in  a  decagon."  But  if  the 
Prince  Pupil  should  answer,  "A  duck  in  a  de.cagon,"  or  "A  dog 
in  a  hexagon,"  the  answer  would  be  half  right,  and  he  would 
only  forfeit  one  bean. 

If  the  Prince  Pupil  is  altogether  incorrect  in  his  answer,  he 
not  only  forfeits  three  beans,  but  also  his  title  of  Prince  Pupil, 
and  is  called  for  the  rest  of  the  game,  until  he  gives  a  correct 
answer  to  some  other  question,  by  the  name  of  the  animal  and 
figure  he  ought  to  have  named.  For  example :  in  the  case  we 
have  chosen  his  answer  should  be,  "A  dog  in  a  decagon,"  but 
should  he  answer,  "An  otter  in  an  octagon,"  or  "A  sow  in  a> 
septa.gou,"he  is  afterward  addressed  as  Mister  Dog  in  a  Decagon 
until  he  retrieves  his  position  by  making  a  perfectly  correct  an- 
swer. 

When  the  first  Prince  Pupil  has  answered  the  question  cor- 
rectly, the  Presideut  places  his  button  on  another  figure  and  ap- 
peals to  the  second  iu  order,  something  in  this  style,  to  which 
he  may  add  a  little  fun  made  out  of  his  own  head: 

"This  Dog  in  a  Decagon  Brown  having  failed  to  give  me  a 
correct  answer,  I  now  come  to  you,  Prince  Pupil  Baldwin,  to  tell 
me  what  I  have  under  my  button."  Then  he  repeats  and  counts 
as  before. 

As  soon  as  a  Prince  Player  has  lost  all  his  counters  lie  retires 
from  the  game,  and  is  said  to  have  gone  over  the  Pons  Asinorum 
to  the  other  side  of  Jordan. 

The  first  Prince  Player  who  gives  three  correct  answers  be- 
comes President,  and  holds  the  position  until  another  player 
gives  three  correct  answers  during  his  Presidency. 

If.  as  the  players  become  familiar  with  the  game  and  the 
diagram,  it  should  grow  too  easy  to  be  exciting,  the  President 
may  then  count  on  either  the  left  or  right  side  as  he  pleases, 
in  which  case  he  will  say  either,  "I  am  working  on  the  philoso- 
pher's side,"  or  "I  am  working  on  the  fool's  side." 

On  the  philosopher's  side  the  quadrangle  will  commence  the 
first  ru\v,  and  the  mixtiliuear  quadrangle  will  be  the  seventh 
figure  on  it.  On  the  fool's  side  the  uiixtilinear  triangle  will 
eiimmence  the  first  row,  and  the  equilateral  triangle  will  be  the 
seventh  figure  on  it. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED  WEEKLY, 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  190. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YOKE. 


PRICE    FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  June  19,  1883. 


Copyright,  1853,  by  HABPKB  A  BBOTIIKBS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


m'<>-^Uk\M 
r:  v  \s/. :       t    "?lV^u^ 


HOPE    GIVING    HER   EVIDENCE.— SEE  STORY,  "MR.   GRUBBT'S  OLD  POCKET-BOOK,"  NEST  PAGE. 


514 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


V()I,r.ME  IV. 


THE  LEAP  AT  BAYOU  CARR. 

BY  MARY  A.  BAKU. 
TT  was  long  before  the  dawning,  while  as  yet  the  camp  was 

Our    colonel,   keeping   anxious    watch,   said,    "Call   me   Texas 

Bill." 
Then  quick  as  the  order  came  the  man— a  man  with  an  eye  like 

With  a' heart  that  never  knew  a  fear,  a  strength  that  naught 

could  tire. 
"Bill,  you  can  ride?"     "I  reckon."     "Then  saddle;  I  want  to 

know 
All  that  a  man  with  open  eyes  can  tell  me  about   the  foe. 

Rapid  and  still  as  a  man  in  a  dream.  Bill  he  galloped  away: 
And  he  saw  the  enemy  on  their  arms,  just  at  the  Invak  of  day: 
He  noted  them  well,  then  backward  turned,  keeping  an  easy  pace, 
To  rest  the  steed  he  dearly  loved  sifter  her  well-run  race; 
He  praised  her  gait,  he  stroked  her  head,  he  said,  "My  bonny 

lass. 
The  bridle's  slack,  walk  at  thy  will,  and  taste  the  fresh  green 

grass." 

They  sauntered  on  till  he  heard  a  sound  that  made  his  pulses 

beat, 

That  made  the  mare  prick  up  her  ears,  and  paw  her  restles    Eee1  : 
The  sound  of  galloping  horses  and  men.  and  soon  there  came 

in  view 

A  'f.iy  little  squad  of  cavalry,  all  of  them  men  in  blue, 
lie  gathered  the  reins  as  quick  as  thought,  "Oh,  Bess,  I'll  trust 

to  thee; 
Now  up  and  do  thy  very  best  for  life  and  liberty." 

But  just  as  he  pressed  his  Bes-ie'-  side,  he  turned  with  plea- 
sant I'aee. 

'•I  inn  iiiiiiriiiiil— you  will  not  tire;  I'll  trust  you  for  that  grace; 

Then  if  you  take 'me,  I  will  yield  to  good  men  cheerfully." 

He  wavi.'l  his  hand,  cried  "  Good-by,  t>o;  OH  like  the  wind 

went  he; 

Off  like  i he  wind,  while  close  behind  his  foes  came  swift  and 
hot, 

But  never  a  man  among  them  dreamed  of  a  pistol-shot. 

A  reckless  race!  a  desperate  chase!     What  ending  would  it  find  '! 
Bessie  and  Bill  were  still  in  front,  the  rest   not   far  behind, 
"While  just  ahead  was  Bayou  ('a  IT.  a  bayou  wide  and  deep, 
Full  thirty   feet  from  side'  to  side — would   l!i-~-i,-  dare  to  leap? 
She  never  made  a  single  pause,  she  cleared   it   in  grand  style, 
While  heartily  the  men  in  blue  were  cheering  her  the  while. 

She  stood  one  moment.     Then  Bill  turned— "  Boys,  once  again 

good-by!" 

They  sent  him  back  a  ringing  shout;  he  need  no  longer  fly. 
There  wasn't  a  man  that   eha-ed  him  but   freely  bade  him  go; 
Not  one  to  send  a  pistol-shot  after  an  unarmed  foe: 
And  sure  this  act  of  self-restraint  was  a  grander  thing  by  far 
Thau  the  daring  leap  of  Texas  Bill  over  the  Bayou  (.'sirr. 


MR.  GRUBBY'S  OLD  POCKET-BOOK. 

BY  JULIA  K.  HILDRETH. 

ONE  warm  day  in  June,  when  the  sky  was  all  cover- 
ed with  Hying-  black  clouds,  and  the  distant  hills 
half  hidden  by  a  thick  veil  of  gray  mist,  Hope  Hunter 
scampered  along  a  wide  country  road  that  ran  between 
the  school-house  in  the  village  of  Burbank  and  "her  home, 
which  was  about  a  mile  distant. 

Hope  was  in  a  desperate  hurry  to  reach  home  before 
the  rain  fell,  for  she  wore  her  new  blue  dress,  and  her  mo- 
ther had  said,  as  she  fastened  the  last  button, 

' '  Now,  Hope,  this  dress  looks  very  nicely,  and  it  took 
me  a  long  while  to  make  it.  So  try  not  to  spoil  it  in  one 
day,  as  you  did  your  last." 

Hope  looked  anxiously  at  the  frowning  sky  as  she  flew 
along,  her  school-bag  swinging  on  her  arm  and  her  hat 
pushed  far  back  on  her  head.  She  had  almost  reached 
the  garden  gate,  when  her  foot  caught  in  a  projecting 
root  of  an  oak-tree  in  the  road,  and  she  fell  full  length 
upon  the  ground,  strewing  the  contents  of  her  bag  in  all 
directions. 

The  tears  stood  in  Hope's  eyes  as  she  collected  the  scat- 
tered articles  and  crammed  them  hastily  back  in  the  bag. 


They  were  all  safe,  but  the  beautiful  pearl  penknife  her 
father  had  given  her  as  a  birthday  gift,  and  that  she  could 
lind  nowhere.  A  .steep  bank  covered  with  long  grass  and 
weeds  .sloped  away  from  the  road  near  the  tree  over  whose 
roots  Hope  had  just  now  fallen.  As  the  knife  was  not 
upon  the  road,  it  must  have  slipped  over  this  bank.  So 
Hope  scrambled  upon  the  gnarled  roots  and  peeped  down. 

Yes,  there  it  was.  shining  brightly  among  the  grass 
and  leaves.  She  jumped  down,  snatched  it  up,  and  was 
about  to  spring  back  to  the  road,  when  her  eye  fell  upon 
an  old  leather  pocket-book  lying  close  to  where  she  had 
found  her  knife,  and  half  hidden  under  a  large  stone. 
Hope  picked  it  up,  and,  climbing  back  to  the  road,  un- 
buckled tin-  broad  strap  with  which  it  was  fastened,  and 
looked  in.  It  was  filled  with  papers  neatly  folded  and 
crowded  together  so  closely  that  the  pocket-book  bulged  in 
all  directions. 

'  '  I  thought  it  couldn't  have  any  money  in  it,"  said  Hope  ; 
"it  looked  too  old  and  greasy.  Some  one  must  have 
thrown  it  away.  Oh,  how  nice  and  thick  !"  she  exclaimed, 
as  the  paper  rustled  between  her  fingers  —  "just  the  thing 
to  make  pin-wheels  of." 

At  this  moment  a  large  drop  of  rain,  fell  from  a  cloud 
and  splashed  down  upon  Hope's  nose.  She  flung  the  pock- 
et-book hastily  on  the  ground,  thrust  the  papers  into  her 
bag,  and  ran  hurriedly  down  the  patli  to  the  house.  The 
rain  fell  briskly  as  she  flung  open  the  hall  door  and  ran 
panting  into  the  front  room,  where  her  mother  sat  reading 
a  letter. 

"Did  the  rain  catch  my  little  girl  ?"  said  mamma,  as 
Hope  lifted  up  her  mouth  for  a  kiss. 

"Oh  110.  I  ran  too  fast."  answered  Hope,  laughing.  "  I 
ran  so  fast  that  I  tripped  over  the  scrubby  roots  of  that  old 
tree  on  the  road." 

"Did  you  hurt  yourself  '."  inquired  her  mother,  anx- 

iollsK  . 

"  Not  much." 

"Those  roots  must  be  cut  off,"  said  mamma,  going  to 
the  window  and  looking  out.  "  Only  yesterday  I  saw  old 
Mr.  Grubby  stumble  headlong  across  the  road.  He  might 
have  killed  himself." 

"  Mamma,  there's  that  nice  sailor  man  who  gave  me  the 
little  ship,"  said  Hope,  suddenly,  pointing  out  of  the  win- 
dow to  a  young  man  who  was  just  then  crossing  the  road 
—  "  Mrs.  Barns's  son,  you  know." 

"Dear!  dear!  the  root  has  tripped  him  up  too.  "cried 
Mrs.  Hunter. 

"  He's  not  hurt,  mamma.  See!  he  jumped  up  as  light- 
ly as  a  bird.  I  wonder  what  he  is  looking  at  in  his  hand  ? 
Oh,  I  see  now  —  it's  the  old  pocket-book." 

"  What  pocket-book,  Hope  ?"  inquired  her  mother. 

"  I  found  an  old  pocket-book  on  the  bank,  but  it  was  so 
greasy  that  I  threw  it  away." 

"  Hope,  the  postman  brought  a  letter  for  you  this  morn- 
ing from  your  cousin  Amy,  "said  Mrs.  Hunter,  turning 
away  from  the  window,  and  forgetting  all  about  the  pock- 
et-book. 

"Did  Amy  write  it  all  herself?"  inquired  Hope,  woii- 
deringly. 

"  I  think  so,"  answered  her  mother,  with  a.  smile. 

"Please  read  it  to  me,  mamma,:  I  can't  read  writing 
very  well." 

"This  is  what  Amy  writes,"  said  Mrs.  Hunter,  holding 
the  letter  so  that  Hope  could  see  it  distinctly,  and  pointing 
to  each  word  with  a  needle: 


(,'orsix  HOPE,  —  I  am  coming  home  Saturday.  I  havo 
si  new  dull  and  a  new  doll  carriage.  Don't  forget  to  make  the 
pin-wheels  yon  promised.  Your  ever-loving  cousin,  AMY." 

"I  think  that's  a  very  nice  letter,"  said  Hope,  as  her 
mother  finished  reading.  '  '  I'll  go  right  away  and  make 
the  pin-wheels  if  you  will  let  me  have  your  sharp  scissors, 
mamma." 


.11- NT.    I'.i.  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


515 


"  Yes.  dear,  you  may  have  them.  And  I  will  fro  and 
tell  Sam  to  cut  nil'  those  roots  ill  the  road  before  tin  v  do 
any  serious  damage." 

As  lierninthcr  left  the  room  Hope  took  the  scissors  from 
the  work-basket,  and  the  paper  she  had  found  in  the  old 
pocket  hook  from  her  hag.  and  skipped  upstairs  to  her 
little-  play-r u  in  the  garret. 

The  rain  was  pattering  over  the  roof  and  dashing  against 
the  window-panes  as  Hope  seated  herself  upon  the  Hour 
and  began  her  work.  The  paper  she  had  found  was  of  a 
li^lit  hi  i  ic-  color,  with  a  narrow  dark  hi  Lie  line-  close  to  the 
edge.  Hope  spread  these  strips  of  paper  out  upon  her 
knee  and  counted  them  over.  There  were  tuelve  in  all, 
and  just  twice  as  long  as  they  uere  hroad  :  and  as  a  pin- 
wheel  must  lie  sipiare.  Hope  cut  them  in  two.  and  had 
soon  made  twenty  four  pale-  hlue  pin  wheels.  The  few 
words  written  on  each  did  not  mar  their  beauty  at  all,  for 
Hope  had  hidden  these  so  carefully  that  n<>  one.  unless 
by  looking  very  closely,  would  have  discovered  that  tin- 
paper  "as  not  perfectly  clean. 

When   they   were   finished   and    pinned  to  their  handles 
Hope  stacked  them  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  Loo 
proudly  at  her  handiwork. 

"There!"  said  she.  aloud.  "Amy  can  write  a  letter. 
but  she  can't,  make  pin  wheels  like  those.  I'll  leave  them 
up  here  until  next  Saturday,  so  that  they  will  not  be 
spoiled.  This  is  Tuesday,  and  Wednesday.  Thursday,  and 
Friday  are  three  more, "said  1  [ope.  counting  on  her  lin- 
gcrs.  "Thai's  a  longtime."  Then  she  closed  the  door 
and  went  down-stairs. 

The  nexl  da  \  as  I  lope  came  home  from  school  she  saw  a 
large  Crowd  collected  around  William  llarns's  house,  and 
heard  loud  voices  within.  She  hurried  home  with  the 
news  lo  her  mother. 

"  1  an:  afraid  they  are  going  to  arrest,  William  Joins 
for  stealing."  said  her  mamma,  sadly. 

"  What  has  William  Barns  stolen  ."  cried  Hope,  in  as- 
tonishment. 

"  i  Ud  Mr.  Grubby  accuses  him  of  stealing'  a  gn-ai  manj 

hundred  dollars." 

"(  )h,  i  nan  I'll, -i !  1  .don't  believe  he  ever  stole  anything, 
he  has  such  a  nice  brown  face  ami  always  smiles  at  me." 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  no  proof  of  his  innocence."  >a  id 
her  mother,  palling  her  on  the  head.  "lint  1  am  very 
sorry  for  poor  Mrs.  Barns." 

Hope  thought  frequently  of  William  Barns  during  the 
week,  and  missed  his  kind  face  in  the  village.  It  made 
hei»feel  quite  sorrowful  to  see  the  door  of  his  house  closed, 
and  the  shades  drawn  down  over  the  windows.  But  \\  hen 
the  day  for  Amy's  return  came,  Hope  forgot  everything 
else  in  the  delightful  expectation,  of  seeing  her  cousin 
ami  presenting  her  the  wonderful  pin-wheels. 

It  was  110  easy  task  to  carry  twenty-four  paper  pin- 
wheels  safely  through  the  village  streets.  So  Hope 
thought,  as  she  moved  slowly  along,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  them  in  anxiety  for  their  safety.  She  was  so  intent 
upon  this  that  she  ran  plum])  against  a  boy  standing  in 
the  road.  Hope  looked  up  to  see  who  it  was,  and  warn 
him  not  to  break  her  pin  wheels,  when  she  found  that  she 
was  close  by  the  Court-house,  and  that  there  were  five  or 
six  people  standing  around  the  door  talking  excitedly. 

The  boy  Hope  stumbled  against  was  one  of  her  school- 
mates, so  she  said, 

"  What's  the  matter  in  the  Court-house,  Tom  ;" 

"William  Barns  stole  old  Gruhby's  pocket-book 
crammed  full  of  money,"  answered  Tom,  "and  they're 
trying  him  now.'' 

"Did  Mr.  Grubby  see  him  do  it  ;"  cried  Hope,  wonder- 
ingly. 

"No,  he  didn't  see  him  steal  it,  but  it's  all  the  same. 
He  saw  the  pocket-book  in  his  hand,  and  so  did  I  and 
a  heap  of  other  fellows,  too.  We  were  all  on  the  dock 
fishing,  when  old  Grubby  conies  along  grumbling,  and 


stands  behind  us.  Just  then  a  big  fish  pulled  off  my  hook, 
and  I  asked  Will  Barns  for  another.  He  took  an  old 
leather  thing  out  of  his  pocket  and  began  fumbling  in  it 
for  one.  Then  I  heard  Grubby  scream  something,  and  I 
looked  up.  He  was  standing  close  by  Will  with  his  hands 
hooked  just  like  the  claws  of  a  bird  and  his  teeth  all  show- 
in  v;.  The  next  moment  he  made  a  spring  at  Will  and 
screi  checl, 

'You  thief!  you  rogue!  you  highwayman!  give  me 
my  money  !' 

'  Your  money  !'  said  Will.  'You  must,  be  crazy,  'Mr. 
Grubby.  I  have  no  money  of  yours.'  Then  he  shook 
Grubby  oil',  and  putting  the  pocket-book  back  in  his  pock- 
et, walked  ott'  as  cool  as  you  please.  Next  day  Grubby 
had  him  arrested,  and  the\  found  the  pocket-book  with  a 
lot  of  tisli-hooks  in  it  on  a  shelf  in  Will's  bedroom.  But 
he  says  he  found  the  greasy  old  tiling  empty  near  the  roots 
of  that  lil'j'  Oat  live  by  your  house." 

"So  he  did."  cried  Hope,  who  had  been  listening  with 
her  mouth  and  eyes  open  to  this  long  story — "he  did,  for  I 
saw  him,  and  there  was  not  one  cent  of  money  in  it  when 
I  picked  it  up  myself— nothing  but  little  pieces  of  paper, 
and  I  took  them  OUl  and  llnvu  I  he  old  t  h  i  ng  a  way.  And 
I'll  just  go  and  tell  Mr.  Grubby  so."  and  Hope  made  a 
movement  toward  the  door. 

"I  wouldn't."  >aid  Tom;  "they'll  all  laugh  at  you. 
Who  ever  saw  a  "irl  walking  through  a  court-room  with 
an  armful  of  pin-wheels 

"I  don't  care  if  they  do  laugh  at  me,"  answered  Hope, 
angrily.  "I  shall  not.  let  Mr.  Grubby  sa.\  that  William 
Barns  stole  his  money,  when  I  know  better." 

"Well.  I  suppose  you're  right. "said  Tom.  "Bill  let 
me  hold  those  things  until  you  come  back." 

"No."  replied  Hope,  deeidedlv.  "  You  might  break 
them." 

So  she  walked  ill  at  the  open  door  and  half  across  the 
room,  but  could  see  nothing  of  Mr.  Grubby.  Although 
there  were  a  number  of  persons  in  the  room,  it  was  so 
silent  that  the  whirring  noise  made  by  Hope's  pin-wheels 
sounded  so  loudly  that  those  sitting  near  turned  and  look- 
ed  al  her.  She  tiptoed  alone-  quietly  until  she  came  to 
the  end  of  a  long  row  of  benches.  Then  she  saw  an  open 
space  with  three  or  four  tables  in  it,  and  a  raised  desk. 
Men  sat  at  the  table  writing,  and  a  very  large  red-faced 
gentleman,  uith  his  eyes  closed,  as  if  listening  intently, 
was  behind  the  desk. 

Old  Mr.  Grubby  was  speaking  when  Hope  first  saw 
him. 

"  yes,"  he  said,  "that  is  my  pocket-book;  the  same  that 
I  missed  Monday  afternoon.  It  then  contained  twelve 
hundred  dollars  in  certified  checks  of  one  hundred  dollars 
each," 

"  <  >h,  Mr.  Grubby  !"  cried  Hope,  stretching  her  head  for- 
ward, and  speaking  in  a  very  high  voice,  "  it  did  not  have 
one  cent  in  it  when  I  picked  it  up." 

As  her  voice  rang  through  the  silent  hall  every  one 
stood  up  and  looked  at  poor  Hope.  She  had  not  meant 
to  speak  so  loud,  and  was  very  much  mortified  at  the  at- 
tention she  attracted,  and  tried  to  hide  behind  the  nearest 
bench.  But  a  gentleman  came  forward  and  whispered, 

"Come,  little  girl,  and  tell  these  gentlemen  what  you 
know  about  Mr.  Grubby 's  pocket-book." 

As  he  lifted  her  up  on  one  of  the  tables  in  the  open  space 
a  gust  of  wind  came  through  the  open  window  and  set  the 
twenty-four  pin- wheels  whirling  around  all  at  once  with 
a  loud  noise.  At  this  every  one  laughed,  and  Hope,  re- 
membering Tom's  words,  held  her  head  down,  and  turned 
very  red  indeed. 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  gentleman  who  had  lifted  her 
up  on  the  table.  "They  are  not  laughing  at  you.  Now 
speak  loudly,  and  tell  us  where  you  found  the  pocket- 
book." 

She  was  quite  alarmed  now,  and  almost  ready  to  cry. 


516 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


of  the  prettiest  paper  in  the  world.  It  came  from  China, 
and  it's  all  covered  with  pink  and  blue  and  gold  and  silver 
butterflies,  and  I  will  help  you  make  ever  so  many  new 
pin- wheels." 

He  lifted  the  little  girl  upon  his  broad  shoulder,  and  in 
this  manner  they  left  the  Court-house. 

William  Barns  not  only  kept  his  promise,  but  carried 
Hope  and  her  brilliant  paper  pin-wheels  on  his  shoulder 
all  the  way  to  Cousin  Amy's. 

And  now  whenever  Hope  passes  William  Barns's  house 
she  is  greeted  with  loving  words  and  kisses  from  his  mo- 
ther. And  many  a  beautiful  shell,  bright  piece  of  coral, 
and  curious  toy  has  found  its  way  from  William's  sea- 
chest  to  Hope's  play-room,  for  the  sailor  never  forgot  that 
she  had  saved  him  from  being  thought  a  thief. 


for  she  saw  that  the  mail  behind  the  high  desk  had  his 
eyes  open,  and  was  looking  intently  at  her.  and  that  those 
who  had  been  writing  held  their  pens  suspended  in  the 
air  while  they  turned  their  heads  her  way. 

"Tell  them  where  you  found  it,"  said  the  gentleman 
again. 

Then  Hope  did  as  she  was  requested.  "  But,"  said  she, 
turning  to  Mr.  Grubby,  "there  was  no  money  in  it,  only 
pieces  of  blue  paper,  and  I  threw  the  pocket-book  down  on 
the  ground  after  I  had  taken  the  paper  out,  because  it  was 
so  old  and  dirty." 

Again  every  one  laughed,  and  Hope,  feeling  very  much 
distressed,  whispered  to  the  gentleman  near, 

"Please  take  me  down  and  let  me  go  home." 

"  In  a  moment," he  answered;  "but  first  tell  Mr.  Grub- 
by what  you  did  with  the  papers." 

"Here  they  are,"  said  Hope,  pointing  to  her  pin-wheels. 

Mr.  Grubby  sprang  across  the  room,  and,  snatching  one 
from  her  hand,  tore  it  from  its  handle  and  spread  it  open 
upon  the  table. 

"Yes,"  he  cried,  "  it  is  part  of  one  of  the  checks.  You 
wicked  little  girl,  how  dare  you  destroy  my  property,  and 
frighten,  me  half  to  death  ;" 

Hope  opened  her  eyes  very  wide  at  these  words,  and 
the  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks  as  she  cried, 

' '  Oh,  Mr.  Grubby,  I  did  not  mean  to  be  wicked.  Here, 
take  them  all,  I  won't  keep  one."  And  she  thrust  the 
beautiful  pin- wheels  into  the  old  man's  hands,  and  sobbed 
aloud.  Every  one  crowded  about  old  Mr.  Grubby  as  lie 
pulled  off  the  papers  and  spread  them  open  one  after  one. 
They  were  so  much  amused  that  they  quite  forgot  Hope, 
who  stood  alone  upon  the  table  with  her  face  buried  in 
her  two  small  hand's. 

But  presently  she  felt  some  one  touch  her,  and  looked 
up  to  find  William  Barns's  kind  face  close  to  hers. 

"Don't  cry,  little  Hope,"  said  he,  softly.  "I'll  take 
you  home." 

"  What  made  Mr.  Grubby  call  me  wicked  ?"  said  Hope, 
wiping  her  eyes.  "I  did  not  mean  to  do  any  harm." 

"I  don't  believe  he  quite  knew  what  he  was  saying," 
answered  William.  "He  has  been  very  much  worried 
about  those  papers,  for  they  were  worth  a  large  sum  of 
money." 

"I  did  not  know  that,"  sobbed  Hope;  "and  I  am  so 
sorry  about  my  pin- wheels.  I  made  them  all  myself  to 
give  to  Cousin  Amy." 

' '  Never  mind, "  said  William  Barns,  coaxingly.  ' '  Don't 
cry,  but  jump  on  my  shoulder,  and  I'll  find  you  some 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY    JAMES    OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  TOBY  TYLER,"  "  TIM  AND  TIP,'*  "  MR.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER, "  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XIX.— (Continued.) 
CAPTAIN  SAMMY'S  PERIL. 

FOR  an  instant  Dare  let  go  of  the  helm  and  rushed  out 
of  the  pilot-house  to  see  what  could  be  done ;  but  before 
he  could  get  aft  he  realized  that,  with  the  engine  still  in 
motion,  he,  by  deserting  his  post,  was  not  doing  anything 
toward  saving  Captain  Sammy,  but  was  actually  hindering 
operations  by  allowing  the  steamer  to  back  where  she 
might  ground,  or  work  herself  worse  injury. 

Grasping  the  spokes  of  the  wheel  firmly,  as  if  by  his 
strong  hold  he  could  also  retain  all  his  presence  of  mind, 
he  looked  astern  for  some  signs  of  the  man  who  was  in 
such  deadly  peril. 

The  steamer  had  run  ahead  some  distance  after  the  blow 
had  been  struck  which  knocked  the  little  man  from  his 
lofty  perch,  and  now  he  could  be  seen  fully  fifty  yards 
below,  while  the  reversing  of  the  engine  was  taking  the 
Pearl  toward  the  bank  of  the  river. 

Captain  Sammy  was  splashing  around  in  the  water  and 
screaming  loudly,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  frighten- 
ing away  the  sharks  and  alligators;  but  owing  to  the  fact 
of  his  having  but  one  leg,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he 
kept  himself  afloat. 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


% 


"DOES    OO    LOVE   BUTTER? 


UXE  19,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


517 


('barley.  Bobby,  and  even  Tommy  bad  by  this  time 
rusbi'd  into  tbe  bow,  as  if  for  Dare  to  tell  them  what  to 
do.  and  be  knew  only  too  well  that  tlie  saving  of  the 
little  man's  life  depended  almost  wholly  on  him. 

"Go  back  to  your  post'.''  he  shouted  to  Charley,  "and 
put  on  all  steam  ahead!" 

It  needed  the  stern  command  to  arouse  the  engineer 
from  his  panic;  and  as  Dare  swung  the  wheel  around, 
the  laboring  of  the  boat  told  that  the  order  had  been 
obeyed. 

It  was  necessary  to  traverse  nearly  half  of  a  circle  be- 
fore  the  apparently  drowning  man  could  be  reached  ;  ami 
when  Dare  rang  the  bell  to  "  stop  ber"  be  saw  at  a  glance 
that  Captain  Sammy  could  do  very  little  toward  helping 
himself,  lest,  if  he  ceased  his  exertions  for  a  moment,  ei- 
ther the  sharks  or  the  alligators  would  seize  him. 

Dare  was  completely  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do, 
and  even  as  he  hesitated  he  could  see  that  Captain  Sam- 
my's struggles  were  growing 
fainter  and  fainter.  It  was 
only  too  evident  that  be 
ei.iild  not  hold  out  many 
minutes  longer. 

Dare  rushed  for  the  ten 
der,  calling  Charley  to  fol- 
low him,  but  be  knew,  even 
in  his  excitement,  that  t  bey 
could  not,  pull  him  in  over 
the  rail  of  that  frail  boat 
without  upsetting  her  ami 
endangering  tbe  lives  of  all. 

The  condition  of  his  mind 
was  little  short  of  agony. 
Then  just  when  bis  fear  was 
the  most  intense  he  was  con- 
scious that  a  form  bad  dart- 
ed past  him  and  plunged  into 
tbe  water. 

He  could  not  prevent  him- 
self from  screaming  as  be 
saw  what  seemed  to  be  a 
leap  to  certain  death,  and  he 
looked  quickly  around  to  see 
whether  it  was  his  brother 
or  his  cousin  who  had  gone 
thus  bravely  to  die. 

But  Charley  and  Bobby 
were  both  standing  behind 
him,  and  he  passed  his  hand 
over  his  eyes  as  if  he  fancied 
be  must  have  been  deceived 
in  what  he  thought  he  saw. 

It  was  certain,  however, 
that  some  one  had  jumped 
over,  for  a  swimmer  could 

be  seen  making  directly  for  the  nearly  exhausted  man, 
and  splashing  in  the  water  at  a  furious  rate. 

"  Why.  it's  Tommy!"  he  cried,  astonished  that  he  had 
not  thought  of  this  one  of  their  passengers  before,  and 
then  all  his  faculties  were  restored  to  him  again. 

"  Give  the  wheels  a  couple  of  turns,"  he  shouted  to  Char- 
ley, as  he  picked  up  a  heaving  line  and  ran  to  the  bows. 

The  steamer  was  only  about  a  dozen  yards  from  the 
two  who  were  struggling  in  the  water  against  so  many 
perils,  and  he  hoped  to  be  fortunate  enough  to  run  along- 
side them,  where  a  rope  could  be  flung  around  Captain 
Sammy. 

CHAPTER  XX. 
THE  RECONCILIATION. 

FORTUNATELY  for  Dare's  plan  the  Pearl's  helm  was  still 
hard  down,  and  the  slight  motion  given  her  by  the  wheels 
caused  her  to  circle  directly  around  the  two  in  the  water. 


Dare  was  thus  enabled  to  swing  the  bight  of  the  rope  to 
Tommy,  and  in  an  instant  after  it  was  placed  under  the 
little  man's  arms. 

"  Now  climb  up  on  the  rope,  and  then  we'll  all  pull  him 
in."  said  Dare  to  Tommy. 

"That  won't  do,"  replied  the  little  fellow,  as  he  renew- 
ed his  efforts  at  splashing,  "  for,  you  see,  when  I  was  out  of 
the  water,  they'd  take  his  leg  off  quicker' n  a  wink.  Haul 
him  in,  and  when  you  pass  tbe  rope  to  me  be  ready  to 
snake  me  in  sudden,  or  it  '11  be  all  up  with  me." 

Surely  Tommy  was  showing  himself  to  be  a  hero,  and 
neither  of  the  boys  thought  of  his  past  misdeeds  as  they 
admired  his  courage. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  pull  Captain  Sammy  on  board 
when  all  hands  had  hold  of  the  rope,  and,  exhausted  as  he 
was,  he  managed  to  walk  unaided  into  the  forward  cabin, 
where  he  applied  his  own  restoratives. 

Then  came  the  more  difficult  work  of  rescuing  Tommy, 


'YOU   HAVE    SAVED   MY    LIFE,  LAD." 

t 

for  since  the  boy  had  spoken,  all  now  knew  the  danger 
with  which  it  would  be  attended. 

The  fins  of  the  sharks  as  they  circled  round  and  round 
their  expected  prey,  which  they  did  not  dare  to  touch,  could 
be  seen  in  dangerous  closeness  to  the  brave  little  pirate, 
and  at  times  the  ugly  noses  of  the  alligators  seemed  almost 
to  touch  him. 

He  was  making  as  much  noise  as  possible,  but  the  exer- 
tion was  telling  on  him,  and  when  at  last  Dare  succeeded 
in  getting  the  rope  around  his  shoulders  it  was  quite  time, 
for  he  was  as  nearly  exhausted  as  Captain  Sammy. 

Bobby  at  this  moment  thought  of  what  should  have 
been  done  before,  and  taking  an  oar  he  reached  out  as  far 
as  possible,  striking  the  flat  of  the  blade  on  the  water. 

By  this  means  they  succeeded  in  getting  Tommy  on 
board  safe  and  whole.  But  the  moment  he  was  landed  011 
the  deck  he  scurried  to  his  old  hiding-place,  as  if  he  ex- 
pected Captain  Sammy  would  give  immediate  pursuit. 


518 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IT. 


Dare  tried  to  urge  him  to  come  into  the  cabin  in  order 
to  get  some  dry  clothes,  but  Tommy  displayed  quite  as 
much  terror  now  at  facing  the  little  man  as  he  did  before 
he  had  made  such  heroic  attempts  to  save  his  life,  and  he 
crawled  under  the  berth  without  regard  to  the  water  that 
raa  from  him  in  little  streams. 

Tommy  had  hardly  hidden  himself,  when  Captain  Sam- 
my came  on  deck,  apparently  none  the  worse  for  his  in- 
voluntary bath. 

He  looked  at  the  three  boys  in  silence  for  a  moment, 
and  then  in  a  voice  not  wholly  free  from  traces  of  emotion, 
but  still  gruff,  he  asked.  "Who  was  it  jumped  in  to  help 
me  ?" 

"It  was  Tommy  Tucker,"  replied  Dare,  and  before  Cap- 
tain Sammy  fully  understood  that  assertion  he  related  the 
story  of  Tommy's  being  on  the  boat,  speaking  very  rapidly, 
as  if  fearing  that  he  should  be  interrupted. 

For  fully  a  moment  Captain  Sammy  stood  in  perfect 
silence,  and  then  he  asked,  in  a  voice  which  the  boys  were 
almost  certain  trembled,  "Where  is  he  now  ?" 

Charley  told  him  of  Tommy's  fear  at  meeting  him,  and 
where  he  had  hidden  himself. 

"Go  and  fetcli  him  out," and  from  the  tones  of  the  little 
man's  voice  it  was  hard  to  tell  whether  he  intended  to 
meet  his  late  enemy  in  friendship  or  with  the  long  feud 
still  open. 

It  was  one  thing  to  order  Tommy  to  be  brought,  and 
quite  another  to  bring  him.  Charley  had  coaxed  and  en- 
treated, all  to  no  purpose,  and  it  was  not  until  he  threaten- 
ed to  go  and  tell  Captain  Sammy  to  come  himself  that  the 
pirate  could  be  induced  to  roll  out  from  under  the  berth. 

Then  when  he  went  aft  to  where  the  little  man  was 
waiting  for  him  he  appeared  like  a  boy  who  expects  to  be 
knocked  down  each  minute,  and  fears  some  harder  fate  is 
reserved  for  him  because  the  blow  is  not  dealt. 

But  the  reception  was  far  different  from  what  he  had 
imagined  it  would  be. 

Captain  Sammy  went  to  him  as  he  came  up,  and  taking 
both  the  dirty  hands  in  his,  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  was 
husky  with  emotion : 

"You  have  saved  my  life,  lad,  and  that's  something  I 
can't  repay  by  thanks.  But  for  you  this  shattered  old 
hulk  would  have  been  food  for  the  sharks,  and  I  standing 
before  the  great  Captain.  I  never  believed  there  was  any 
good  in  you,  Tommy,  but  you  have  shown  that  you  are 
braver  than  most  men  would  be.  I'm  going  to  take 
you  home  with  me,  lad — for  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I 
should  never  go  there  again — and  so  long  as  I've  got  a 
timber  to  float  on  you  shall  be  at  the  other  end  of  it. 
Now  get  one  of  the  boys  to  give  you  a  dry  suit  of  clothes 
till  I  can  fix  you  up  something  to  wear  that  looks  more 
trim  than  the  one  you've  got  now,  and  take  hold  and 
have  a  good  time  with  the  rest.'' 

And  thus  it  was  that  Dare's  troubles  were  over,  and 
the  not  overbold  pirate  made  one  of  the  crew  of  the  yacht 
Pearl. 

As  soon  as  Tommy  was  clad  in  a  dry  suit  of  "clothes  the 
Pearl  was  started  on  her  voyage  again,  and  the  trip  seem- 
ed to  have  just  begun  for  Dare,  who  had  hardly  had  a 
moment's  peace  since  he  knew  of  the  stowaway. 

Despite  his  previous  calling  Tommy  proved  a  most  val- 
uable addition  to  the  company.  He  was  both  willing 
and  anxious  to  do  everything  in  his  power,  and  Captain 
Sammy  soon  began  to  like  him  as  heartily  as  he  had  once 
disliked  him. 

Owing  to  the  delay  of  the  first  day  on  the  Caloosahat- 
chee,  Lake  Kachpoch.ee,  through  which  they  must  pa.ss, 
was  not  reached  until  noon  of  the  second  day  after  leaving 
Punta  Rassa.  Three  hours  later  the  Pearl  glided  out 
upon  that  large  lonely-looking  body  of  water. 

The  boys  felt  a  sense  of  awe  and  isolation  creep  over 
them.  Lake  ( >keechobee,  as  Dare  had  read  when  the  lirst 
idea  that  he  might  visit  it  had  come  to  him,  is  from  forty 


to  fifty  miles  long,  about  twenty -five  wide,  and  with  a 
depth  of  from  five  to  twenty  feet. 

This  was  to  be  their  abiding-place  while  they  remained 
in  the  Everglade;;,  and  Captain  Sammy  at  once  looked 
around  for  a  good  anchorage,  which  he  fortunately  found 
in  >t  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  where  a  piece  of  hard 
shelving  beach  ran  down  into  the  water. 

"  Now,  boys,"  said  the  little  man,  after  everything 
had  been  made  snug  for  a  long  stay,  "I  suppose  you  are 
aching  to  get  on  shore  to  try  your  hand  at  shooting.  You 
can  all  take  the  afternoon  off,  and  I'll  stay  here  to  keep 
ship.  Keep  your  weather  eye  open,  for  you'll  find  bears, 
panthers,  and  wild-cats  hereabouts,  as  well  as  small  game, 
and  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  any  of  them  catch  you  napping." 

Hastily  promising  to  be  careful  not  to  allow  any  ani- 
mal to  get  the  best  of  them  the  boys  rowed  ashore,  and  it 
was  nut  many  moments  before  they  learned  that  on  the 
shores  of  Lake  Okeechobee  it  is  not  necessary  to  hunt  very 
long  for  game,  for  the  woods  appeared  to  be  literally 
teeming  with  life. 

Dare's  greatest  ambition  in  the  hunting  line  had  been  to 
shoot  a  deer,  and  from  the  time  his  parents  had  lirst  spoken 
about  the  trip  to  Florida  up  to  that  moment  he  had  re- 
solved that  he  would  undertake  any  labor,  however  great, 
for  the  purpose  of  seeing  one  of  those  noble  animals  fall 
before  his  rille. 

Therefore  it  was  that  while  the  other  boys  were  growing 
excited  at  the  abundance  of  feathered  game  near  them,  and 
were  discharging  their  weapons  whenever  a  bird  with  par- 
ticularly brilliant  plumage  would  rise,  Dare  stood  by.  a 
silent  spectator  of  the  wholesale  slaughter,  as  if  waiting 
until  his  companions'  spirits  should  have  worn  themselves 
out  a  little. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  boys  did  tire  of  this  wanton 
sport,  for  it  was  hardly  anything  else,  since  one  could  re- 
main at  a  stand-still  and  shoot  right  and  left  without  dis- 
turbing the  numerous  flocks  save  for  a  few  moments  at  a 
time,  and  when  Charley  suddenly  discovered  that  it  was 
too  bad  to  bring  the  birds  down  simply  for  the  sake  of 
killing,  Dare  was  ready  with  his  proposal. 

"  Let's  divide  into  two  parties,  Charley  and  Bobby  in 
one,  and  Tommy  and  I  in  the  other;  then  one  party  can 
take  a  long  hunt  for  big  game  while  the  other  stays  near- 
er the  steamer,  in  case  Captain  Sammy  should  need  us. 
By  that  means  we  shall  get  on  without  trouble,  and  by 
changing  around  each  day  all  hands  will  have  an  equal 
chance  of  getting  a  deer  or  a  bear.  Now,  Charley,  do  you 
want  to  take  a  long  tramp  to-day  ;" 

Charley,  who  had  slaughtered  a  quantity  of  birds,  had 
110  desire  for  such  violent  exercise  just  then,  and  with  the 
understanding  that  he  and  Bobby  should  remain  within 
sound  of  a  signal  from  the  Pearl,  Dare  and  Tommy  set 
out  in  search  of  game  more  worthy  the  hunter. 

Tommy  had  not  the  slightest  idea  how  deer  should  be 
hunted,  but  since  the  taint  of  his  piratical  calling  had  been 
removed  from  him  he.  was  ready  for  anything,  and  he  ac- 
companied Dare  in  high  glee. 

After  settling  the  points  of  the  compass  as  well  in  his 
mind  as  he  was  able,  Dare  started  into  the  woods  in  such 
a  direction  as  would  keep  the  sun  on  his  left  side,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  they  were  wnore  the  forest  was  as  dense 
as  though  they  were  in  the  very  heart  of  the  Everglades. 

Still  Dare  pushed  on  until  the  cover  was  more  open,  and 
just  as  he  caught  sight  of  a  small  space  which  was  nearly 
free  from  trees  he  saw  that  for  which  he  sought. 

Three  deer  and  a  buck  were  feeding  in  the  open,  and 
the  wind  was  blowing  directly  from  them  to  the  hunters. 

Under  such  circumstances  it  was  not  a  difficult  matter 
for  the  hunter  to  creep  quite  near  them,  and  with  hands 
trembling  from  the  excitement  of  seeing  the  game  he  had 
so  long  desired  to  reach,  Dare  took  as  good  aim  as  was  pos- 
sible, and  discharged  his  weapon. 

[TO   BK    CONTINUED.] 


JI'NE  19,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


519 


BITS  OF  ADVICE. 

BY     A.U:N"r     ^lAliJORIK     Tl  J  !•:<  '  K  I  "1". 


BRAVE    AND    TENDER. 

~ITTHFX  Sir  John  Lawrence  was  Governor-Genera]  of 

*  *  India  lie  was  told  one  day  of  a  little  girl  who  had 
been  taken  ill,  and  was  pining  away  with  grief  at  the 
loss  of  a  verj  curious  pet.  The  pet  was  a  tame  ostrich. 

which  the  child  had  raised  from  tl gg,  left  by  the  ostrich 

unit  hei-  in  i lie  grass  of  the  park  at  Barrackpore. 

'I'lie  little  girl's  father  was  tin-  keeper  of  tlie  park,  and 
soon  after  her  discovery  of  the  egg  In-  died  and  his  suc- 
cessor was  appointed. 

fearing  that  foxes  or  jackals  would  eat  her  treasure,  or 
that  the  cold  dews  would  destroy  il.  the  little  girl  carried 
the  big  egg  to  the  bungalow,  and  buried  it  safely  in  a  lid- 
less  box  tilled  with  dry  white  sand.  This  she  took  pain-- 
in  set  out  in  the  sun  every  day  just  \\lieiv  the  fiercest 
rays  would  pour  on  it.  At  ni^lil  she  coaxed  a  motherly 
hen.  whose  nun  eggs  she  tran-l'erred  else\\  liere.  to  hrood 
o\  er  t  he  box. 

By-aud -by.  to  the  great  fright  of  ihe  pom-  hen.  a  jriant 
chick  broke  the  shell,  and  stepped  into  view.  The  hen 
milled  her  feathers,  spread  her  u  ings,  and  tied. 

The  little  girl  and  theoslrich  lie. -ami'  fast  friends,  and 
one  was  never  seen  without  the  other.  \Yhal.  then,  was 
her  dismay  when  the  park-keeper  took  it  into  his  head 
thai  the  o-iricli  was  publi.-  properly,  and  must  go  lo  the 
g<  .\  ernmelit  a  viary  ! 

The  child  was  so  dislressed  at  the  removal  of  her  pel 
that  her  mother  feared  she  would  die.  Hut  the  military 
surgeon  who  came  to  see  her  thought  he  knew  of  some 
thing  belter  for  her  than  medicine,  and  lie  wrote  a  letter 

to  Sir  John  Lawrence  telling  him  all  about  it. 

The  Viceroy  was  a  very  .threat  man.  and  had  pressing 
atl'airs  ot  state  to  attend  to,  for  millions  of  people  looked 
to  him  as  their  ruler.  But  he  had  a  ver\  lender  heart, 
and  far  away  ill  England  be  had  lit  lie  girls  of  his  own; 
so  be  wrote  a  reply,  by  the  return  mail,  that  the  (.si  rich 
uasat  once  to  be  given  to  its  rightful  owner,  who  lost  no 

time  ill  getting  well. 

Does  anybody  ask,  ''How  can  Aunt  Marjorie  make  a 
bit  of  advice  out  of  this  little  incident  :"  Well,  you  know 
we  wrap  pills  up  ill  sugar;  and  so  we  tell  slories.  and  hide 
lessons  within  them. 

A  brave  heart  is  always  a  tender  heart,  children.     No 
matter  how  busy  you  are,  you  may,  like  Sir  John   Law 
rence,  take  time  to  do  a  kind  act  for  some  one  who  is 
weaker  than  vourself. 


THE  DISAPPOINTED  PICKEREL. 

BY  CHARLES  BARNARD. 

FRED  LARKIN  lived  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Umbe-a\ 
gogolink.  They  called  it  Gaygog  for  short.  Fred 
said  it  was  because  they  had  such  gay  fishing  there.  Lake 
CJmbegaygogolink  was  deep  in  the  woods,  and  for  a  long 
time  only  the  few  hunters  or  fishermen  who  lived  along 
its  winding-  shores  knew  what  particularly  line  fishing 
could  be  had  there. 

But  lately,  somehow  or  other,  the  boys  had  found  it 
out.  Never  was  there  such  fishing  as  on  the  shores  of 
Gaygog.  Early  in  the  morning,  after  school  was  out, 
and  Saturday  afternoons,  there  was  always  a  party  of  boys 
perched  somewhere  on  its  banks,  and  floating  over  its 
surface  in  old  punts  and  scows  after  those  fish.  Then 
something  happened  that  upset  the  boys. 

It  is  always  so.  When  you  are  having  the  best  fun. 
some  one  comes  along,  and  that's  the  end  of  the  good  times. 

"  Here  is  this  new  hotel,"  said  Fred.  "They  have  built 
a.  frame  house  on  the  shores  of  Gaygog,  and  started  a 


stage  line  through  the  old  wood  road.  The  people  down 
in  the  city  will  be  coming  here  in  crowds.  They'll  have 
the  greatest  lot  of  new-fashioned  rods  and  poles,  and  all 
sorts  of  queer  inventions  besides,  and  they'll  just  spoil  the 
Bshing." 

Sure  enough.      In  June  the  hole!  was  opened,  and  a  lot 
of  people  came  up  from  New  York  to  go  fishing  in  (Ja\ 
gog.      They  brought   all    kinds  of   new-fangled    lish-lines 
and  make-believe  bugs  mi   tish -hooks.      Of  course  all  the 
fish  would  be  scared  away,  and  that   would  lie  the  end  of 
the  fun.      It  was  queer  hou    the   lisli  behaved  that  sum 
mer.      There  were  so  many  lishermen  that  half  the  young 
trout  in  <  raygog  were  caught,  and  all  the  old  ones  retired 
in  disgust  to  the  deep  pools,  \\here  not  even  such  a  skill- 
ful fisherman  as  Fred  Larkin  could  lind  them. 

I  >i    ides  this,  these  city  people  at  the  new  hotel  were  such 

i istroiis  caters  that   not   all  the  lishermen  on  the  lake 

could  keep  the  greal  frying-pans  tilled.  The  cooks  were 
in  despair.  "  More  trout,"  they  cried.  "  or  the  hotel  will 
fail."  Before  the  hotel  was  built,  anybody  could  have  a 
string  of  lish  for  the  trouble  of  catching  them:  now  the 
lish  w  ere  worth  money. 

Now  came  Fred  Lai-kin's  chance.  The  cooks  would 
pay  ten  cents  apiece  for  gnud  trout,  and  twenty  cents  for  a 
hi"'  pick,  re  I.  Fred  had  never  earned  any  moiiev  before 
in  bis  life.  Iti>  saw  a  small  forlune  jusl  in  reach,  and  he 
mean!  to  have  it.  The  lirsl  thing  he  did  was  lo  go  home 
and  have  a  complcle  o\  erliiriiing  among-  all  bis  old  ti-ea 
sinvs.  I  le  got  mil  everything-  that  bad  to  do  with  lishing. 
From  among  the  collection  lie  selected  his  best  lines  and 

his  brig] id's!  lish  1 ks.      Then  lie  made  a  net  out  of  a  strip 

of  old  muslin,  and  with  il  he  captured  a  lot  of  young  fry 
"  minums"  he  called  them— -and  made  ready  for  a  big  haul. 

Somehow  it  didn't  seem  to  be  a  good  day  for  fishing. 
There  was  a  mackerel  sky.  and  not  much  breeze  on  the 
water.  It  ought  to  be  splendid  lishing.  and  yet  he  could 
not  get  a  bite. 

"I  do  believe  those  city  lishermen  have  scared  every 
trout  out  of  his  senses." 

All  day  long  he  lished  and  fished.  He  rowed  into  all 
the  favorite  coves  where  (lie  lish  used  to  be  plentiful. 
Not  a  fish  to  be  found  anywhere.  The  sun  went  down, 
and  Fred  rowed  home,  hungry  and  tired,  and  without  a 
single  tish. 

"The  fishing's  ruined,  and  no  mistake.  Those  new- 
fangled fish-lines  jusi  scared  every  trout  away.  As  for 
pickerel,  I  do  believe  they  have  all  dove  into  deep  holes 
out  of  sight." 

The  cooks  were  in  despair.  "No  fish.  The  city  boarders 
have  had  beefsteak  three  times  a  day.  Unless  we  have 
fish,  the  hotel  will  fail." 

Fred  vowed  he  would  have  some  fish,  or  know  the  rea- 
son why.  While  he  stood  in  the  hotel  kitchen  he  hap- 
pened to  see  a  big  wide-mouthed  glass  jar  oil  the  table. 
It  had  a  label  on  one  side,  but  was  empty. 

"  Will  you  give  me  that  old  glass  jar  :"  said  Fred. 

' '  What  do  you  mean  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  I  want  it  to  help  catch  fish." 

"  i  >h,  take  it.  then.  Anything  to  get  some  fish.  Bring 
some  fresh  trout,  or  the  hotel  will  fail." 

"I'll  try."  said  Fred,  as  he  took  the  big  jar  in  his  arms 
and  went  home. 

Early  the  next  morning  Fred  took  the  glass  jar,  his 
scoop-net,  and  a  piece  of  string,  and  went  down  to  the 
creek  to  catch  "minums."  He  filled  the  jar  with  wa- 
ter, and  as  fast  as  he  caught  the  little  fish  he  put  them 
in  it.  Soon  he  had  a  hundred  or  more  of  the  small  fry 
swimming  about  quite  lively  in  the  jar.  Then  he  tore 
off  a  strip  of  his  net,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  string  tied  it 
over  the  mouth  of  the  jar.  Then  he  started  for  his  boat. 

He  rowed  out  to  a  place  where  the  water  was  clear  and 
the  bottom  smooth.  Taking  the  boat's  painter,  he  tied  it 
around  the  jar.  and  lowered  it  gently  overboard.  There 


520 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


were  the  small  fry  in  the  jar  at  the  bottom  of  the  water, 
and  yet  not  able  to  get  out,  as  the  netting  held  them  fast. 
Fred  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  boat  to  see  what  would 
happen. 

Presently  a  fish  swam  lazily  under  the  boat.  Then  he 
saw  the  small  fish  through  the  glass  sides  of  the  jar.  He 
stopped  and  looked  at  them  in  a  surprised  way.  He  wrig- 
gled his  tail,  as  if  greatly  excited,  and  then  came  a  rush 


they  too  stopped  to  see  what  was  going  on.  The  excite- 
ment below  was  tremendous.  A  whole  school  of  little 
fellows,  and  not  a  single  big  fellow  able  to  get  at  them! 
Fred  knew  they  must  be  very  mad  about  it,  for  the  mo- 
ment he  let  down  his  line  two  of  them  snapped  at  it,  and 
one  was  soon  napping  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

It  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  score  of  fish  swimming 
round  and  round  the  glass  jar.      One  or  two  big  fellows 


'IT   WAS   THE   BIGGEST    PICKEREL   EVER   SEEN   IN   THE   LAKE." 


at  the  "  min- 
ums."  He  only 
bumped  his 
nose  against 
the  glass,  and 
swam  away, 
disgusted. 

Fred  waited 
patiently.  In 
a  few  moments 
back  he  came, 
bringing  six 
others  with 
him.  Hr  had 
evidently  told 
them  of  the 
feast  prepared 
for  them. 

Never  did 
fish  "behave  in 
such  a  remark- 
able way.  They 
circled  round 
and  round  the 
glass  jar,  pok- 
ing their  noses 
against  it,  and 
unable  to  un- 
derstand why 
they  could  not 
get  at  the  small 
fry  inside. 

Some  more 
fish  happened 
to  sail  past  at 
that  time,  and 


stood  off,  and  said  it  was  some  kind  of  a  game  they  didn't 
understand.  Fred  dangled  his  bait  in  front  of  one  of 
these  wise  old  chaps,  and  of  course  he  came  up  lively. 

Fred  never  caught  so  many  fish  before  in  one  day.  He 
was  just  baiting  his  hooks  and  watching  the  convention, 
when  suddenly  the  meeting  broke  up,  and  not  a  fish  was 
to  be  seen. 

' '  They  have  found  it  out.  No !  My !  that  is  the  father 
of  all  the  pickerel  in  Gaygog!" 

It  was  the  biggest  pickerel  ever  seen  in  the  lake.  He 
thought  he  would  have  a  look  at  the  little  fellows.  He 
stood  a  little  way  off  eying  the  fish  in  the  jar,  and  gently 
waving  his  ancient  tail. 

Flash !  he  had  gone.  Oh,  the  jar  has  upset.  Mister 
Pickerel  had  charged  into  it,  and  tipped  it  over,  and  it  lay 
on  its  side.  The  little  fellows  were  still  inside,  for  the 
netting  was  over  the  mouth  of  the  jar.  Fred  was  on  the 
point  of  pulling  up  the  jar  when  he  saw  Mister  Pickerel 
coming.  He  was  evidently  very  angry,  and  meant  mis- 
chief. He  was  aimed  right  at  the  big  mouth  of  the  jar. 

"The  show  is  over,"  said  Fred.  "He'll  get  the  whole 
school,  and  the  jar  too." 

Swoop!  there  was  a  sudden  pull  on  the  painter  that 
made  it  swing.  The  rope  stretched  out  this  way  and  then 
that,  and  in  a  fever  of  excitement  Fred  pulled  it  in.  He 
had  to  tug,  for  there  was  something  heavy  at  the  end. 

Poor  old  pickerel !  He  had  rushed  at  the  mouth  of  the 
jar,  and  thrust  his  head  right  into  it.  The  netting  broke, 
and  all  the  little  fry  ran  out,  but  Mr.  Pickerel  was 
trapped.  He  shook  himself,  and  rushed  hither  and  thith- 
er, but  the  glass  jar  held  on  tight. 

Everybody  at  the  hotel  said  it  was  the  finest  fish  dinner 
they  had  ever  had.  The  baked  pickerel  was  magnificent. 
The  hotel  was  safe,  and  the  next  week  Master  Fred  Larkin 
bought  a  real  Waterbury  watch,  which  he  wears  to  this 
day. 


.TI'N'E  19,  1SSS. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


521 


LA  LUZ  DE  BOGOTA. 

BY  ARTHUR  LINDSLEY. 

AMONG  all  the  birds  there  is  no  family  which  for 
brilliant  colors  and  sparkling  beauty  can  compare 
with  humming-birds.  And  in  saying  this  it  is  not  at  all 
necessary  to  except  even  the  gorgeous  sun -birds,  or  the 
birds -of -paradise.  Both  of  these  are  certainly  provided 
with  plumage  of  marvellous  splendor,  and  from  their  su- 
perior size  they  make  a  rich  display;  but  the  lovely  little 
humming-birds  seem  to  me  to  far  surpass  them  in  beauty. 


Their  plumage  is  extremely  bright  and  beautiful  in  its 
general  coloring,  and  then,  in  addition  to  that,  almost  all 
the  species  are  provided  with  extra  ornaments  in  the  shape 
of  scales  which  scarcely  seem  like  feathers.  They  are  fea- 
thers, it  is  true,  and  nothing  but  feathers,  but  they  are  so 
short  and  so  crisp  and  so  stiff  and  elastic  that  they  look 
more  like  fish  scales ;  and,  to  make  the  resemblance  more 
complete,  they  shine  in  the  light  as  do  pieces  of  polished 
metal,  in  which  respect  they  are  like  the  scales  of  many 
tropical  fishes.  These  scales  of  the  humming-birds  are 
very  commonly  arranged  in  patches. 


522 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


How  well  do  I  remember  one  morning  on  the  table- 
land of  Mexico !  I  had  ridden  till  late  in  the  evening,  for 
I  was  in  a  region  where  water  was  very  scarce.  Neither 
I  nor  my  horse  had  had  anything-  to  drink  for  a  number 
of  hours,  and  I  kept  on  in  the  bright  moonlight,  hoping  to 
reach  a  spring.  None,  however,  appeared,  and  some  time 
before  midnight  I  halted  and  lay  clown  on  the  ground  to 
sleep  till  morning.  When  I  awoke  the  sun  had  just  risen, 
and  I  wish  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  give  you  some  idea  of 
what  I  saw,  but  I  fear  words  will  do  it  but  very  poorly. 

All  about  me  grew  the  yuccas  which  are  so  character- 
istic of  that  land.  As  I  opened  my  eyes  I  looked  up  at 
one  of  them  which  was  towering  nearly  twenty  feet  above 
my  head.  A  large  coarse  stem  stretched  up  about  ten 
feet,  and  from  its  top  spread  out  an  enormous  crown  of 
strong,  heavy,  sword-shaped  leaves,  each  leaf  being  five 
or  six  feet  long.  From  the  centre  of  this  crown  there  rose 
a  more  delicate  stem,  and  at  a  height  of  five  feet  there 
grew  the  flowers.  Such  flowers!  Five  feet  more  they 
went  np,  snow-white  lilies,  making  a  mass  not  less  than 
a  foot  across,  like  an  enormous  white  plume,  the  white 
broken  only  by  the  golden-colored  anthers. 

I  looked  to  one  side,  and  there  stood  another  like  it :  I 
rose  to  my  feet,  and  they  were  all  about  me.  I  had  not 
seen  any  of  them  before  in  such  a  state  of  splendor,  and  to 
crown  it  all,  as  I  looked  up  to  the  one  above  me,  a  hun- 
dred blazes  of  colored  fire  were  flashing  all  around  it. 
They  were  red,  they  were  blue,  they  were  green,  they 
were  black,  they  were  white,  and  they  were  dancing  here 
and  there  in  the  most  bewildering  fashion,  and  keeping 
up  all  the  time  a  hum  and  buzz  like  that  of  swarms  and 
swarms  of  bees.  I  could  scarcely  persuade  myself  that  I 
was  awake,  that  I  was  not  still  dreaming. 

You  can  well  understand  how,  in  the  days  of  the  old 
splendor  of  Mexico  and  of  Peru  before  the  white  men 
came,  the  brilliant  scale-feathers  of  the  humming-birds 
would  be  used  by  the  natives  for  ornament.  Of  course 
such  things,  as  is  the  case  with  objects  of  elegance  and 
luxury  now  everywhere,  could  be  possessed  only  by  those 
who  were  wealthy,  or  what  was  the  same  thing  then,  by 
the  nobles.  Montezuma  and  his  princes,  at  the  time  of  the 
invasion  of  the  Spaniards,  had  many  garments,  even  large 
robes,  which  were  composed  entirely  of  these  little  scale- 
feathers.  A  piece  of  strong  cloth  of  the  proper  size  was 
taken,  and  each  little  feather  was  sewed  singly  upon  it, 
the  next  being  placed  so  as  to  overlap  it  just  as  they  do  on 
the  neck  of  the  bird,  and  so  on  till  the  work  was  com- 
pleted. Some  of  the  finest  of  these  robes  could  not  have 
been  made  without  using  the  skins  of  fifty  thousand  hum- 
ming-birds at  the  least,  and  several  years  of  labor  were 
required  to  accomplish  the  work. 

And  not  only  were  such  robes  made,  but  Cortez  de- 
scribes most  elegant  pictures  which  were  formed  by  fast- 
ening or  embroidering  the  shining  patches  of  the  skins  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  work  out  the  design  of  the  arii.^is. 
The  Aztecs  even  called  their  capital  Tzinzunzan  because  of 
the  abundance  of  the  humming-birds,  and  they  orna- 
mented the  statues  of  their  gods  with  their  feathers,  often 
in  the  form  of  such  robes  and  mantles  as  I  have  men- 
tioned. 

And  you  can  not  be  surprised  that  most  extravagant 
names  have  been  given  to  them  by  various  writers  in 
trying  to  describe  their  wonderful  colors  and  beauty.  I 
remember  one  who  closes  his  account  of  their  sparkling 
tints  by  comparing  them  "to  the  hue  of  roses  steeped  in 
liquid  fire."  Another  calls  the  little  birds  themselves 
"the  tresses  of  the  morning  star":  beautiful  idea,  and 
charming  title,  is  it  not  3 

And  then  only  look  at  the  name  which  is  printed  at 
the  head  of  this  article.  It  was  given  me  for  that  lovely 
little  fellow  shown  in  the  drawing.  I  dare  say  the  name 
is  not  very  widely  known,  and  even  in  the  place  where  I 
heard  it  there  is  much  probability  that  only  a  cei'luin 


class  of  persons  would  recognize  it,  those  being  the  Indi- 
ans and  the  lower  Spanish  population. 

I  was  in  the  capital  of  New  Grenada.  The  windows 
and  doors  in  that  climate  were  open  day  and  night,  and  it 
was  no  uncommon  thing  for  humming-birds  to  dart  in 
and  out  again,  but  one  day  a  little  fellow  flew  in  and  in 
some  way  became  entangled  in  a  curtain.  As  soon  as  he 
saw  him,  my  Indian  boy  began  shouting,  "La  Luz!  la 
Luz !"  and  dancing  about  as  though  something  remarkable 
had  happened. 

I  soon  caught  the  little  hummer,  and  as  I  held  him  in 
my  hand,  admiring  his  most  wonderful  display  of  colors, 
Ma  ton  had  crowded  up  close  to  me  and  was  watching  with 

rinir  ryes  and  an  interest  that  surprised  me,  and  so  I 
asked  him,  "Quo  tieno,  Mateo"  (What  is  the  matter  ri. 
'•.Nadu.'1  (Nothing).  "  Que  nombre  hay  la  chiquita  ?" 
i  What  is  the  name  of  the  little  thing  .')  And  after  a  min- 
ute he  answered,  with  some  degree  of  hesitation,  "La  Luz 
de  Bogota"  (the  Light  of  Bogota).  The  name  struck  me 
as  being  very  beautiful,  and  I  think  that  it  quite  plainly 

'iiiiK  something,  that  there  is  some  story  connected  with 
it,  though  I  could  not  induce  Mateo  to  tell  me  anything 
definite,  yet  his  first  effort  was  to  get  me  to  set  the  bird  at 
liberty. 

Before  I  left  New  Grenada  I  collected  many  specimens 
of  this  exquisite  species,  and  I  found  it  so  perfectly  lovely 
in  colors  and  in  shape,  and  its  manner  of  nest-building  so 
wonderful,  that  I  thought  it  might  well  be  called  the  Light 
of  Bogota.  I  wish  I  could  color  the  drawing  which  you 
see  here  as  the  bird  really  looks  in  life,  but  as  that  can  not 
be,  I  will  color  it  in  words,  and  you  can  apply  them  to  the 
figure. 

Do  you  see  that  wonderful  rutf  which  stands  out  from 
each  side  of  his  neck  ?  Tin-  species  belongs  to  one  genus 
of  the  humming-bird  which  is  called  Lojiltoriiia,  a  Greek 
name  meaning  crested  bird,  because  all  the  species  of  the 
genus  have  some  of  the  feathers  of  the  head  or  the  neck, 
or  perhaps  both,  long  and  beautifully  colored.  This 
species  is  Lopliornix  tinnitus,  and  surely  lie  is  most  re- 
markably ornate.  These  long  ruff  feathers  (you  see  some 
of  them  are  much  longer  than  the  others)  are  of  the  bright- 
est chestnut  red,  each  one  having  its  tip  of  an  emerald 
green  that  sparkles,  and  as  the  throat  patch  from  which 
these  chestnut  plumes  spring  is  made  of  those  glossy  me- 
tallic scale-feathers,  which  are  themselves  also  emerald 
green,  the  contrast  made  by  the  throat  and  the  ruff  is  fair- 
ly bewitching.  That  long  crest  on  the  top  of  his  head  is 
of  nearly  the  same  hue  as  the  ruff  plumes,  bright  chestnut 
red,  while  the  patch  between  it  and  the  bill  is  made  of 
emerald-green  scale-feathers.  Above  he  is  of  a  bronze 
green  all  down  his  back,  with  a  patch  of  snow  white  be- 
tween this  and  his  chestnut  tail. 

The  female,  as  in  all  the  humming-birds,  has  none  of 
the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  male.  She  is  quite  plain,  and 
you  can  see  that  they  are  both  of  them  very  delicate  and 
graceful;  the  figures  are  drawn  of  the  natural  size.  But 
I  spoke  of  the  nest  as  being  one  of  the  charms  of  this 
Lophornis.  Look  and  see.  The  body  of  it  is  built  up 
of  the  soft  down  of  plants  about  as  white  as  cotton,  and 
then  is  stuck  all  over  on  the  outside  with  small  scales  of 
lichens,  just  enough  to  hold  the  down  together;  they  look 
as  though  the  wind  might  blow  them  away.  And  to 
help  their  beauty  they  are  commonly  set  right  ttinumj  the 
flowers,  say  of  a  cantua  twig.  Only  notice  them,  flowers, 
nest,  and  all  together.  La  Luz,  surely. 

All  of  the  humming-birds  are  natives  of  America  only, 
and  this  species  seems  to  be  fairly  confined  to  South  Amer- 
ica, for  though  a  straggler  or  two  now  and  then  cross  the 
Caribbean  Sea,  yet  they  are  only  stragglers.  From  New 
Grenada  the  bird  abounds  as  far  south  as  nearly  to  the 
limit  of  Brazil,  being  specially  numerous  in  Guiana,  all 
about  Demerara  and  Surinam,  and  so  on  to  Para  and  be- 
yond. 


,ir\E   1'.',  1883. 


Yur.XG  PEOPLE. 


523 


HOW  T<>  SKETCH   Ki;oM   XA'ITKK 

BY  FRANK  I;KAI!1>. 

"I  I  T(  U'LD  you  like  to  learn  to  draw  ;      Don't  you  think 
*  *       thai    it   Would    In-  a  delightful  occupation,  (in  a  long 
suniiiK-i-  day,  to  take  ouf  your  pencils  and  paper  anil  copy 
some  scene  you  wanl  to  remember,  or  produce  a  lik- 

iif  SOUK-  i|iiccr  liird  or  animal  \vhi<-h  strikes  your  fanc\    .' 

Many  will  say.  "  I'd  like  it  very  well,  hut   I  i-nn't  draw." 

Why  Mot  '.      You  can   write,  you  can  hold  n  pencil  and 

trace  lines  upon  the  paper:  and  it' you  can  do  this,  you  can 

draw   a  little.      Anybody    who   can    learn    anything   can 

learn  to  draw  if  lie  will  ui\ethc  same  attention  t,,  it  that 

SS  to  other  things. 

No\\     we    are    not    gohm'    to    tulle    ahout     eopyinir    pic 
tures   which   some  one  else   has  already   drawn,  for  then- 
is   not    much   satisfaction    in    making  imitations  of  other 
people's  wi>:-k :   it    is  much    iimn-   gratifying  to  make  ihe 
original  drawings  ourselves;  hut  to  do  this  we  need  some 

(lil-ec!  1011. 

The  i-easoii  it  is  more  easy  to  copy  a  picture  than  to 
draw  the  real  object  is  IN-CUUM-  the  lines  to  he  copied  ;nv 
;,H  hud  in 1 1  on  the  tlat  Mil-face  of  tin-  pict  lire:  hut  to  draw 
the  ohject  we  must  lind  out  when-  to  trace  the  line-,  for 
ourselves 

Km-  instance,  Suppose  ne  are  to  draw  a  tliiwer  pot  and 
plant.  If  we  have  the  picture  hel'on-  us.  we  can  readily 
see  when-  all  the  lines  arc-  placed  upon  the  paper,  h  it  in 
viewing  a  real  plant  and  pot  \\e  are  apt  to  become  COn- 

fiiM-d  in  trying  to  discover  the  directions  and  proportions 

of  the  lines. 

Therefore  we  must   learn    to  .sec   things  as  they  appear, 
not  as  they  really  are.     This  may  seem  strange  to  you.  Ill-- 
cause one-   is  apt    to  think    that    a  thiuir 
in  1 1- 1  appear  as  it   is;   hut  let  us  look  inlo 
the-  matter. 

We   will    take-  a   square   ho\    iFi-     I 
Now  we  know  that  all  the  sides  are  the 
same  size,  thai  tin-  top  is  as  lar-'e  as  the 
side,  and   that    one   side    is   as   large   as 
Pro.  1.  another:   hut    if  you   try   to  draw  it   so, 

you  will  timl  it  impossible,  because,  a] 

though  you  know  that  the  top  and  sides  are  (lie  same  size 
as  the  front,  they  do  not  look  so,  and  y>u  draw  things  as 
they  look,  not  as  tln-\  really  are. 

\Vhal  would  our  cuhe  look  like  if  we-  tried  to  make  the 
sides  •>  and  .'!  just  like  the  side  1  .'  (  )r  the  line  ('  1)  as  long 
as  the  line  A  B  ?  Why,  like  Fig.  2.  Don't  you  see  thai 
would  ho  110  hox  at  all  '. 

Take  another  example.  We  all  know  that  a  man'-, 
leg  is  longer  than  his  arm,  but  it  doesn't  always  ap- 
pear so. 

Measure  the  arms  and  legs  of  Fig.  .'!,  and  you  will  see 
hy  actual  measurement  the  arms  are  longer  than  the 
li-e's.  and  yet  it  looks  right,  because  the  leg.-,  are  pro- 
jected toward  you;  in  other  words,  the  legs  are  fore- 
shortened. 

The-  great  secret  of  drawing  from  nature  is  to  train  the 
eye  to  see  a  real  object  just  like  a  picture. 

Now  let  us  return  to  our  flower-pot  again.  We  will 
suppose  we  are  drawing  from  a  real  flower-pot  and  plant. 
We  determine  how  large  we  will  make  our  sketch,  and 
begin  operations  hy  drawing  a  vertical  line  la  straight  up- 
right line).  Along  this  line  we  will  mark  out  the  propor- 
tions of  the  plant  and  pot,  as  in  Fig.  4. 

We  may  easily  discover  that  the  plant  is  longer  than 
the  pot.  This  can  be  done  by  holding  the  pencil  upright 
before  the  eye  at  arm's-length,  as  in  Fig.  5,  so  that  it  will 
cover  the  pot,  and  measuring  by  the  thumb  the  height  of 
the  pot,  then  raising  the  arm  so  as  to  cover  the  plant,  and 
comparing  the  measurement  of  the  pot  with  the  plant. 
The  dotted  line  shows  the  arm  when  lifted  to  compare 
the  plant's  length  with  the  length  of  the  pot.  The  lines 


Fn:.  -' 


drawn  from  the  eye  show  how  the  pen- 
cil makes  the  measurement  on  the  oh 
ject. 

After  settling  the  question  of  the 
height  of  the  Mower-pot  and  plant  we 
will  mark  the  measure- 
ments on  the  line.  A  ml 
uov,  \\  e  will  draw  in  the 
put.  leaving  the  .straight 
line  through  its  centre. 

On  observing  the  plant 
we  u  ill  see  that  it  is  not 
exact  ly  straight,  and  here 
again  the  straight  line 
will  be  of  assistance. 
By  holding  up  our  pencil,  which  represents  the  straight 

line,  we  will  di -cover  that  the  stem  of  the  plant  leans  con 
siderahly  to  the  left,      (iiiidcd  hy  the  line  we  can  get  the 
curve  of  the  stem  about   right.       Now  we  sketch  the  stem. 
Along   the   straight    line    we   again    measure   the   distance 
From    the  top  of  each    lea  f   from   the    pot.  as    ill    l-'i'j'.  I',.        \Ve 

can  see  several  leaves,  each  reaching  a  certain  height. 
OliM-i-vintr  the  same  plan  of  measurement,  we  lind  that, 
the  top  of  the  lowest  leaf  is  ahout  the  same  height  from 
the  pot  as  the  height  ,,f  the  pu|  itself,  am!  a u'a in  from  tin- 
top  ,,(  the  lowest  leaf  to  tin-  top  of  the  plant  measures  the 
same  distance. 

I ;     drawing  another  vertical  line  just  touching  tin'  right 

side  iif  i  he  pot.  we  lind  that  it  touches  the  extreme  edge  of 

tin-  leaf.  'I'll  us  we  lind  I  he  exact  si  I  nation  of  the  leaf.  By 
tin-  same  method  we  lind  the  riuht  places  for  the  other 

leaves,  and  after  we  know  just -where  the]  helmi".-.  uedruw 

them  in. and  lind  that  ue  ha\e  produced  a  very  creditable 
outline  from  nature. 

\Ye  need  not  contine  ourselves  to  one  or  two  guiding 
lines  in  sketching  an  object  :  in  fact,  we  may  use  as  many 
straight  lines  as  will  help  us  to  e-et  the  correct  propor- 
tions; not  only  vertical  and  liuri/.uiital  lines,  hut  slanting 
lines  uill  also  assist  us  in  moM  cases.  The  sketch  of  a 
pupp>  i  Fig.  7  >  will  give  an  idea  of  the  way  to  employ 
all  lines  necessary  in  sketching  from  nature.  A  few 
\\ords  will  he  all  that,  is  necessary  to  explain  this  illus- 
tration. 

There  lies  the  pup  on  the  floor,  and  we  seat  ourselves 
at  a  little  distance  from  it  with  pencil  and  paper.  We  will 
.start  oil'  with  a  hori/onta!  line  A  ;  then  we  can  form  some 
idea  as  to  \\  hether  the  little  doe-  hex  along  a  straight  line-, 
or  in  case  the  bottom  line  slants,  how  much  it  slants. 
Then  draw  the  vertical  line  1!  K.  Now  suppose  we  hold 
our  pencil  upright  in  such  a  position  as  to  touch  the  back 
c<  I  •_;•<•  of  the  ear.  ue  will  find  that  it  passes  through  the 
shoulder  of  the  fore  leg  and  the  knee  of  the  hind-leg,  as 
represented  by  the  line  B  E;  so  we  have  found  the  places 
for  these  parts.  Another  horizontal  line,  C  D.  drawn 
through  the  body,  will  touch  the  nose  and  hip,  cutting  the 
lower  point  of  the  ear.  This  will  show  us  that  the  near- 
est hip  and  the  nose  are  on  a  line.  It  will  also  help  us  to 
get  the  proportions  above  and  below  the  line.  Then  by 
drawing  a  slanting  line  from  D  to  E,  we  find  that  the  hind- 
leg,  the  nose,  and  fore-paw  are  all  on  that  line ;  so  we  can 
not  go  far  astray  in  our  proportions. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  in  following  this  method  of 
drawing  from  nature  is  to  hold  our  measuring  stick  ex- 
actly vei-tical  or  horizontal.  This  difficulty  can  be  over- 
come by  providing  yourself  with  a  T-square  (Fig.  8),  and 
attaching  to  it  at  the  point  A  a  string  with  a  weight  at- 
tached so  that  it  will  hang  plumb.  By  using  this  we  can 
be  sure  whether  we  bold  it  straight  or  not,  for  in  case  we 
tip  it  too  much  on  one  side  or  the  other  the  string  will 
swerve  from  the  middle  of  the  upright  stick.  Of  course, 
whenever  we  hold  the  T-square  perfectly  straight,  the 
string  will  fall  straight  down  the  middle  of  the  upright, 
and  the  top  of  the  T  will  then  give  us  a  true  horizontal  line. 


524 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIG.  3. 

A  little  thought  and  practice  will  lead  you  to  thor- 
oughly understand  this  method,  and  when  you  really  un- 
derstand it  you  will  have  an  unerring  guide  to  assist  you. 
Of  course  as  the  eye  and  hand  become 
trained  with  practice  and  observation, 
the  work  will  become  easier,  and  you 
will  have  less  need  of  the  T-square. 

In  beginning  the  practice  of  drawing 
from  nature  we  had  better  confine  our 
first  efforts  to  things  that  will  stand 
still,  for  without  a  practiced  hand  it  will 
be  almost  impossible  to  sketch  a  rest- 
less subject;  but  if  we  attempt  to  do  so, 
we  should  follow  the  methods  before 
taught  as  nearly  as  possible. 

Now  suppose  we  start  off  011  a  sketch- 
ing tour.  We  have  hardly  entered  the 
barn-yard  before  something  strikes  our 
fancy — a  goose.  We  would  dearly  like 
to  take  his  picture,  but  he  will  not  keep 
still  an  instant,  now  presenting  a  side 
view,  now  a  front  view,  or  turning  his 
back  toward  us,  and  if  we  really  must 
have  his  picture,  we  have  nothing  for 
it  but  to  catch  him  and  tie  him  up. 
Yet  even  now  he  is  a  hard  subject,  twist- 
ing his  long  neck,  and  bobbing  his  head 
about;  but  we  feel  that  we  must  have 
his  picture.  So  we  observe  the  position 
in  which  he  remains 
the  longest  time,  or  as- 


FIG.  4. 


.•sumes  oftenest,  and  begin  our  work. 

We    first    note    the    general    propor- 
tions.     Is    his    body    as    thick   as    it    is 


-0, 


FIG.  5. 


long  ?  Is  his  neck  as  long  as 
his  body  ?  Are  the  legs  near- 
est the  tail  or  head  ?  Is  the 
head  as  long  as  the  neck  ? 
What  part  reaches  the  high- 
est ?  or  what  part  the  lowest  ' 
We  hastily  consider  these 


questions,  and  determine 
in  our  own  mind  the  an- 
swers, for  we  want  to  get 
an  idea  of  the  proportions 
before  we  begin  to  draw. 
Now  we  draw  a  horizontal 
line  along  our  paper,  and 
then  hold  up  our  pencil 
horizontally  so  that  it  will 
answer  for  a  straight  line 
drawn  across  the  body  of 
the  real  goose  (Fig.  9).  This 
will  represent  the  horizon- 
tal line  already  drawn  on 
the  paper.  Noticing  then 
the  directions  the  outlines 
of  the  goose  take  from  the 
horizontal  line  (represent- 
ed by  the  pencil),  we  sketch 
them  in  on  the  paper,  re- 
membering that  one  of  the 
most  important  things  is  to 
get  the  right  directions  of 
the  lines.  Observe  that  in 
Fig.  10  the  line  A  is  direct- 
ed to  too  high  a  point,  and 


FIG.  6. 


FIG.  7. 


makes  the  body  too  thick 
and  out  of  proportion. 

In  sketching  it  is  best  to 
make  all  straight  lines  in- 
stead of  curves,  for  in  this 
way  we  are  more  likely  to 
get  the  right  directions. 
Our  first  rough  sketch 
ought  to  have  something 
of  the  appearance  of  Fig. 
11,  and  as  we  work  it  up 
more  carefully  it  will  be- 
come as  nicely  rounded  as 
we  could  desire. 

One  of  the  most  com- 
mon faults  a  beginner  is 
apt  to  commit  is  to  try  to 
do  too  much  either  by 
choosing  too  great  a  sub- 
ject, such  as  a  large  land- 
scape, or  by  putting  too 
many  little  things  into  the 
composition.  Take  care  of 
the  large  things,  and  the 
little  things  will  take  care 
of  themselves. 

If  our  subject  be  a  clump 
of  trees  at  some  distance, 
we  should  not  attempt  to 
draw  in  separate  leaves, 


FIG.  8. 


Jl'XE  19,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


525 


but  endeavor  to  get  the  true  shape  of  the  tree,  simply 
indicating  the  leaves  by  a  few  lines.  Neither  must  we 
attempt  in  sketching  to  put  in  all  the  shadows  ;  an 
indication  of  the  stronger  shadows  by  a  thicker  line 
is  generally  enough  to  give  the  idea  of  shadow.  No- 
tice in  Fig.  12  how  few  lines  there  are,  after  all.  The 
background  of  hills  and  trees  is  merely  suggested  by 
a  few  characteristic  and  light  lines,  because  the  light 


FIG.  10. 


FIG.  11. 


oil,  and  a  sheet  of  white  paper  are  all  you  really  need  to 
begin  with. 


FIG.  9. 


striking  upon  them  gave  a  very  light  appearance.  The 
nearer  objects  are  produced  by  thicker  and  blacker  lines. 
and  the  water  is  shown  by  ;i  tV\v  horizontal  lines. 

Draw  as  simply  as  possible.  Ten  pictures  are  spoiled 
by  putting  in  too  much  work  where  one  is  spoiled  l>y  too 
little.  Don't  be  discouraged.  Every  ell'ort  will  show  im- 
provement it'  you  really  put  your  mind  and  heart  in  your 
work.  As  for  material,  a  p:<  re  of -oft  rubber,  a  No.  -  pen- 


FIG.  13. 


AN   UNEASY    SUBJECT. 


526 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


EXERCISE. 


T.  CRAMPTON. 


Allegretto. 


1.  Here  we're  standing  in  our  pla-ces,  all     in      or-der  on    the  floor,  For    gym-nasties,  while  we're  counting  our  one  and  two  and  more.  Shut  the 

2.  Now  the  hands  to- geth-er  clapping,  but    it    must  be   soft-ly  done,    For    we  know  in  noi  -  sy    clapping    there    is     but    lit  -  tie    fun.  For-ward 
3   Now  we'll  stretchout- hands  a-suuder,  out  as    wide  as  they  can  go.     And  we'll  o-  pen  wide  our  nn-gers.      of     each  one  make  a  show.  And  now 
4!  Tru  -  ly    won-der-fiil    in  -  deed  it     is,      so    ma  -  iiy  moves  we  make,  And  while  neither  waud  nor  dumb-bell  with-in    our  hand  we  take.  All     the 


hands  np  -  on     the    chest,  heels  to  -  geth  -cr,    toes  turned  out, 

in  xt   we     all    must  move,  with  our    hands  up  •  on     the    side, 

ev  -   'ry     lit  -    tie  finj-rer,  up    -    -     on     our  hands  is     seen, 

mus-cles      of     the   body  we  .....      ex   -  cr  -  else     in    turn, 


So 
Then 
Oh, 
And 


brisk  we  move,  you'll  see  we     all    know  what  we     arc      n  -    bout. 

up     and  back,  from  right  to     left,    oar     bo  -  dies    imw    do    ride. 

let      us  ve  -    ry      care  -  ful     be       to      have  them  white  and  clean, 

aft  -  er  that    is      done  how  much  the    fast  -  er     we    can     learn  : 


— t* 

Hands  up  and  down  wo  move,  Ihen  out  to 
Heads,  which  we  now  must  turn,  are  bow-ing 
Shonl-ders  are  twist -ed  up  nnd  down  and 
Learn  -  ing  we  cov  -  et,  and  for  that  we 


rHit— 
ev   -  'ry     way. 
all       a  -  rouml, 
come  to     school  ; 


If        per  -  feet  time    we    keep,  'tis  such    a 

As        if     there  was  with  -  in    them  something 

In        ev  -  'ry  shape  and    form  that  ev  -  er 

Good  health  we'd   al  -   so    have,    for  that    is 


pret  -  ty  sight !  For-ward  ! 
we  would  say  ;    But    we 
cau     he    found.  El  -  how 
nu  -  ture's  rule  ;  Wise  and 


back   a  -  gain  they  go  1      then   up      from  the    shoul-der  straight— And  when  each    of    these  moves  is    made    we     shall  have  connt-ed  eight. 

do     not     say     it     now,     for     all      that     our    lips    can     tell        Is       one.  and   two.  and  three,  and  four,    tin    -    til      the  stroke  of    bell. 

movements  then  we  make    fol  -  low       in     the    same  roti  -  tine.     While  uci  -  ther    for-ward,  right,  nor   left     our      bo  -  dies  we    must    lean. 

health -y    we  would  grow,  and  we're    striv-ing    thus    to      be:      And     here    a      hap  -  py    work-ing  school  you're  al  -  ways  sure    to       see. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

TSRRY,  MONTANA. 

I  am  a  little  Ohio  Buckeye  girl  just  ten  years 
old,  and  we  have  moved  out  on  a  big  farm  or 
ranehin  Montana.  I  have  a  shepherd  dog  named 
I'.u  Bu.  ami  a  cow  named  Jute.  I  have/  lots  of 
fun  hunting  eggs.  I  watch  fur  your  paper,  and 
•enjoy  reading  the  letters  from  the  little  folks, 
and  send  much  love  to  them. 

DAISY  CALDWELL  P. 


MARRHALLTOWN,  IOWA. 

We  have  been  taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  fur  two 
years,  and  like  it  very  much.  I  agree  with  liosa- 
lie  P.  about  red  hands.  I  am  sure  I  wash  dishes 
•enough  for  any  one.  Many  children  tell  about 
their  pets.  We  have  a  few — a  pony,  a  bird,  cats, 
and  chickens.  Our  pony  is  sorrel,  and  lias  white 
feet  ami  fact-.  We  have  many  rides  on  him:  his 
name  is  Dandy.  I  can  ride  as  fast  as  In-  can  tro, 
and  have  never  once  fallen  off  ;  but  my  sisti-r  Ma- 
bel has  had  many  curious  adventures  riding  him, 
he  is  so  skittish.  ]Uamma  has  a  threat  many  tlow- 
«rs  in  the  garden,  and  in  winter  keeps  them  in 
the  house.  I  am  intending  to  act  a  part  in  a 
•drama  or  play  at  our  exhibition.  The  play  is, 
Among  the  Breakers.  ABBIE  D. 


BROOKLYN,  NEW  YOKK. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  and  have  been 
taking  HAIIPEK'S  YOUNU  PEOPLE  since  No.  39. 
I  was  much  pleased  with  "Nan."  "The  Talking 
Leaves,"  and  all  of  the  serial  stories.  In  fact, 
with  each  number  of  the  paper  I  have  seen  so 
many  new  beauties  that  I  am  firmly  wedded  to 
its  interests.  I  suppose  many  of  your  correspond- 
ents will  envy  me  when  they  hear  that  I  know 
and  love  tin-  Postmistress;  but  notwithstanding 
that  fact  I  have  written  her  two  letters,  neither 
of  which  has  been  printed.  Papa  says  there  are 
so  many  little  folks  who  write  letters  to  the  Post- 
mistress that  he  wonders  sometimes  lio\v  she 
•can  find  time  to  read  them  all,  not  to  speak  of 
arranging  them  for  publication. 

I  enjoy  .Jimmy  Brown's  stories  very  much,  and 
hope  lie  will  write  ofteuer.  I  have  a  dear  little 
Maltese  kitten  only  two  days  old,  a  French  doll. 
and  a  great  many  books.  I  love  to  read,  and 
think  it  aids  me  in  my  studies  to  have  what  is 


generally  dry  history  presented  in  the  garb  of 
fiction,  fan  I  join  the  Little  Housekeepers?  I 
am  very  fond  of  cooking,  but  I  prefer  to  read, 
and  as  I  am  only  eleven  years  old.  papa  thinks 
that  if  I  store  my  mind  now  with  literary  know- 
ledi;e  ami  music,  the  Housekeeping  Department 
can  be  added  later,  but  if  j  become  a  member  of 
your  Little  Housekeepers  it  might  keep  alive  my 
interest.  I  hope  this  letter  is  not  too  long.  The 
letters  you  publish  seem  to  be  the  shoi  i  ones. 
EVA  A.  McK. 

There  is  no  rule  about  longer  or  shorter  so  far 
as  our  little  correspondents  are  concerned,  but 
short  letters  do  not  take  up  so  much  room  in  this 
crowded  Post-office  Box,  and  so  we  can  get  more 
of  them  in,  you  see.  Eva  has  been  very  sweet 
about  her  other  letters  which  were  not  printed, 
anil  so  deserves  to  have  her  patience  rewarded. 
Tell  papa  that  you  will  be  a  Little  Housekeeper 
in  vacation  at  least. 


CLEVELAND,  OHIO. 

I  am  a  Cleveland  boy  fourteen  years  old.  I  am 
fond  of  reading,  and  I  have  read  so  many  books 
that  I  believe  their  titles  would  fill  a  page.  I  am 
now  reading  'Hi,  Hid  <'m-ii»<ilii  .s7/c/i,  and  like  it 
very  much.  We  boys  are  fond  of  playing  hare  and 
hounds,  and  we  chalk  the  letter  A  for  scent.  I 
am  very  fond  of  studying,  and  I  go  to  the  public 

scl 1.  and  am  in  the  B.  (Irannnar  class,  second 

ili\  MOIL  In  tiie  summer  vacation  I  go  down  to 
papa's  printing-office  and  set  type,  and  am  paid  so 
mueh  a  week  for  the  work.  I  advise  .lack  ('.  not 
to  go  to  sea,  for  1  don't  think  he  would  like  to 
be  a  cabin-boy.  PERCY  V.  if. 

LIMONA,  FLORIDA. 

I  am  reading  "  Raising  the  '  Pearl'  "  aloud  to 
mamma.  We  are  greatly  interested  in  the  story, 
for  we  live  only  ten  miles  from  Tampa,  and  have 
spent  many  hours  on  the  beautiful  bay.  While  I 
read  my  little  brother  Carl  sits  near,  and  draws 
droll  little  things,  or  plays  with  his  blocks  or 
reads  hi-  M::il,.r  i;,iosf.  in  a  very  comical  fashion. 
quite  softly  to  himself.  We  are  always  togeth- 
er, and  mamma  calls  us  the  twins,  though  1  am 
twelve  aud  Carl  but  four.  lie  doesn't  seem  to 
pay  much  attention  to  me  when  I  read,  but  his 


little  ears  have  a  way  of  hearing  everything, 
and  last  iii-lit  when  he  was  drawing  as  usual, 
and  I  asked  what  he  was  making,  he  said.  "Oh, 
just  a  picture  of  <  'aptain  Sammy,"  and  hen-  it  is, 
.iu-t  a-  he  made  it  all  by  himself,  and  don't  you 
think  it  pretty  good  for  a  little  fellow  only  four 
years  old?  CLAIDI;  JI. 

Indeed  I  do. 


I  am  nine  years  old.  I  have  to  lie  in  bed,  for  I 
had  a  fall  off  my  bicycle.  I  have  no  pets,  except 
a  little  dog,  Dot,  and  a  large  white  eat.  Snowdrop. 
We  go  to  the  country  in  the  summer.  We  find 
turtle^  in  the  woods,  and  harness  them  to  little 
pasteboard  wagons,  and  they  trot  along  very 
iii  i  ly  ;  we  feed  them  on  fruit.  We  often  go  to 
the  woods  with  papa  to  gather  wild  flowers  and 
ferns.  In  the  winter  we  have  a  fernery,  and  an 
aquarium  with  a  great  many  little  fish  in  it.  I 
have  sent  wiggles  twice,  but 'they  have  not  been 
published.  .My  brother  and  I  used  to  take  >'/. 
Xicliolaf,  but  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  some 
time,  and  are  always  irlad  when  the  day  comes 
for  the  postman  to  bring  it.  (.'.  N.  T. 

That  was  an  unlucky  ride  on  the  bicycle,  was 
it  not,  dear?  Keep  on  trying  your  hand  at  the 
wiggles  ;  you  will  succeed  in  time. 


I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  and  have  just 
commenced  takin;;  Ym-xi;  PEOPLE.  I  am  going 
to  tin-  eoimtry  next  month,  and  my  papa  thinks 
of  bin-ins:  me  a  pony.  I  expect  to  have  a  garden 
tilled  with  flowers,  and  take  care  of  them  myself. 
My  litlle  brother  lieorge  has  a  black  bear' that 
growls  and  shows  his  teeth  when  he  is  wound. 
I  have  two  birds,  and  expect  to  be  a  happy  boy 
this  summer  in  the  country.  HESRY  E.,  JUN. 


I  have  two  guinea-pigs,  two  rabbits,  two  dogs, 
and  one  canary-bird  We  have  two  little  baby 
brothers  We  are  five  altogether — no  sisters. 
We  live  in  the  country  in  the  summer,  and  in 
town  in  the  winter  I  had  lour  alligators,  that 
my  uncle  sent  me.  about  twelve  inches  long.  We 
go  to  school.  Your  little  friend,  TOM  C. 

Where  does  Tom  live?    He  forgot  to  tell  us. 


.U'XK   in.  18S3. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


527 


FOR  THE  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

lti:i.u>  I'rm>ix<; .—One   pint  of  bread  -crumbs 

i  from  thirty  t<i  forty  minutes  in  one  quart 

i.t  sweet  milk ;  then  add  one  cup  of  sugar,  three 

egg-,  and  hull,  i-  the  size  of  an  egg;  bake  until  it 
looks  like  custard. 

Hi  i  ic  ATP;  C'.VKE.— One  cup  of  sugar,  half  a  cup 
..I  I  miter,  half  a  cup  of  sweet  milk,  the  whites  of 
I '  >nr  .  ggs.  t  wo  cups  of  Hour,  one  a  in  I  a  half  tea- 
spoon tills  of  baking  powder:  flavor  In  taste. 

ADA.  Spanish  River, Ontario. 

GINGER-SNAPS     One  cup  of  molasses,  half  a  cup 

of  sugar,  halt  a  eu[>  of  hutter.  half  a  eup  of  w  arm 
water  lo  in.  It  Hie  butter,  two  tahlr  sp,,, minis  of 
ginger,  one  t  •:!  ~|  i<  M  infill  of  sal  era  l  us  ;  mix  as  hanl 
as  possihle  :  roll  very  t  hin.  c-ut  in  small  cake*,  and 
liake  in  a  hoi  oven. 

JUNIL'S  F.  II.,  H.vde   I 'ark.  Massaeh'i 


I.'H    !•'••.  l   I.    I    1    .    N   >    '.'       V. 'I.K. 

I  .nil  len  years  old,  and  jive  three  mile-  OUl   Of 
Alhany.     I  like  lo  swing  in  our  [lalenl    \v I.  ti 

BWlng'  in    the    tower       Tile    tower    is   cighlv     Irel 

high.  In  the  top  ls  :l  lank  whieh  holds  lilil  bar- 
rel- of  water.  This  is  to  supply  the  h.uise.  \ 
windmill  forees  the  water  from  the  pond  up  into 
the  lank  My  sister  and  little  hrotlier  Archie  go 

to  sel 1  w  illi  me  in  the  lower.     I  take  painting 

lessons,  and  have  three  hoxes  of  paints.  My  fa- 
yorile  author  is  Oeorge  Macdonald  My  inolto 
is.  ••  Patience  and  perse  veraiife  lead  to  honor  and 
Success."  Good-by.  PUESCOTT  K.  D. 


n.v.  NKM"  JKUSKY. 


I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  and  live  in  tin 
country.     \Ve    have    a    niee    large    house    will] 


spring.     We  expect  to  have  a  great  many  more. 

as  we   nave  seven    liens  silling  on    eighty   eggs.       1 

had  a  little  pet  chicken  last  summer;  i  called  it 
Tiny,  and  if  you  tapped  on  the  floor  or  table  it 
would  come  to  you;  it  would  cat  out  of  your 
hand. and  follow  you  around  like  adog.  H  grew 
to  he  a  large  chicken,  and  then  became  siek  and 
died.  BEATRICE. 

As  Beatrice  has  had  to  wait  some  weeks  for 
her  turn,  I  presume  the  ten  chickens  have  be- 
come respectable  pullets,  and  that  she  has  a 
great  many  more  feathered  pets  to  care  for. 


OSWKGO,  NEW   Y.'itK. 

I  have  two  boats,  a  steamer  and  yacht.  I  have 
a  funny  little  darky  num.  called  "The  First  ci- 
gar" ;  you  put  something  in  his  mouth,  light  it. 
ami  he  looks  as  if  he  were  ill  from  smoking.  I 
don't  think  many  little  hoys  would  want  to  try 
smoking  if  they  could  see  him.  I  go  to  school 
every  morning,  and  in  the  afternoon  to  a  French 
Kindergarten  from  three  to  four;  we  have  to 
speak  French  all  the  time,  and  play  games  in 
French.  Myuncle  is  to  be  married  next  week  to 
a  verv  pretty  girl,  and  I  expect  to  have  a  good 
time  at  the  wedding.  I..  -M. 


M  AIT-E     Ol:..VK.    «  llll". 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  and  I  li\  e  near 
a  small  milling  t  »\\  n  h\  Dn-  nani--  of  Haydenville. 

It  is  interesting  to  i w  about  mining  coal.  They 

mine  t  wo  or  three  miles  from  here  in  a  large  hill, 
and  bring  the  coal  out  in  small  ears  drawn  by 
mules.  An  engine  conveys  it  through  two  lun- 
n,  I-  .  then  a  larger  engine  brings  it  to  the  main 
track 

M  y  home  is  near  the  banks  of  the  I  lock  hock  ing 

Itiver  K\i-ry  spring  the  ri\  er  I 'lues  very  high. 

und  great  masses  of  ice  lloat  down  in  the'  muddy 
w.ih-i-  In  lie-  summer  it  is  like  a  little  silver 
Ihread  glistening  in  the  sunlight,  on  the  hanks 

are   jjreal    -">  ea  inol-es.  some   of   w  hie)  I   a  re   CO1  '    n  <  I 

by  trailing  grape-vines.  It  is  very  nice  t,.  go  row-- 
ing with  my  big  hi  other.  In  a  large  lield  near 
the  1 36  inay  I"'  found  bushels  of  Minis  They 

areol  all  colors  adellcate  pink,  white,  dark  blue, 
and  black.  Some  are  three  inches  In  length  Pa 

thinks  this  \vas  a  ha  I  lie  held  of  I  he  Indian--.  In 
t  he  -a  me  Held  is  a  mound,  on  whieh  \ve  ai  > 

to  bui  M  a  summer-house.  On  an  adjoining  farm 
i-  .1  large  stone  mound  about  fort  >  teet  |,  ,ng  and 
eight  i  eet  high  :  ii  is  supposed  to  have  he,  n 

there  by  the  Indians. 

This   is   the   lil'St  letter   I    ever  wrote    (,,  . 
and    II    il    shall  he   printed    I    will  write  again  and 
tell  you  a  1 10  a  I  a  rock  house  not  many  miles  from 

here  /<>v    S 

It  is  a  ver>  g 1  letter,  although  your  first,  and 

shows  that   you  Use  your  eyes   in   watching  the 

beautiful  and  interesting  sights  near  your  home. 


DOWNIKVILLE,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  live  in  the 
mountains,  and  men  dig  gold  here.  I  have  been 
in  tunnels,  ami  know  how  the  gold  is  got  out.  I 
guess  some  of  your  readers  would  think  it  funny 
to  see  men  light  candles  and  go  into  a  dark  tun- 
nel to  work.  I  have  a  pet  calf,  and  I  call  her 
Rosa  -.  I  feed  her  myself.  Papa  says  a  calf  is  bet- 
ter than  a  cat.  because  there  is  more  ot  i^.  I  have 
two  little  brothers.  .Johnny  and  Willie,  and  two  ; 
little  .sisters.  Jennie  and  Emma.  I  read  every  let-  ; 


ter  in  the  Post-office  i:ii\  i,,  iliem.  and  we  like 
them  all.  I  think,  as  susie  S.  does,  there  is  no 
story  paper  like  HARPEK'S  VOIM;  I'EOFLE. 

-M.u;Ei.  M.  S.  (per  mammal. 


GRANDMOTHER. 

dmother  sits  in  her  ..Id  arm-chair. 
Knitting  as  grandmol  h'  rs  can  ; 
The  lire-light  gleams  on  her  silvery  hair. 

And  lights  up  her  thin  white  hands. 
Grandmother's  thoughts  are  a  long  way  off, 
\\:i\.  "way    back  in  the   pas!  : 

Her  thoughts  Keep  lime  with  her  needles. 

As  she   knits  al"lig  SO   fa-t. 

i,r  iiidinother's  da>-  are  nearly  o'er. 

For  she  i.-  aging  last  ; 
Her  years  now  number  eighty-four— 

They  soon  will  all  I"-  past.       I.i:nu.  I,    Ii 

ClIU  -A.:.,,  ll.l.lM.IS. 

The  verses-  ab.  nil  (  .1  a  ml  mot  her  are  \  ,  i  •. 
for  a  lil  I  le  writer  w  h"   is  ,,nly  t  w«h  e  :  and   t  he 
•sition  on  "  A  Dog  named  Phil"  deserves  a 

place,  he. -allse  ,l,,se|,hine  (,.  is  jn-t    ten  : 

\    IliK,    N  \Mi:i>   1'IIIL. 

This    i-   :il,, ,nl    a   dog  that    my  cousin    Kob  has 
Me  is  e:  j  lil    '  d   Id-   name   is  I'hil.      lie 

is  a  very  smart  dog:  he  can  say  his  prayers,  and 
can  '  nke  .  n  i '.  iiisin  Rob's  sister's  rubbers  '  ous 
in  Koh  ask-  I'liil  if  he  wants  his  dinner,  and  I'hil 
barks  ;  lh.  ti  he  (JOI  s  and  gels  his  pan  and  lai.es 
il  out  lo  I  -,  .iisin  l.'ob's  in,,  I  her.  and  barks  again. 
as  it  to  say.  "I'l.i-e  give  me  my  dinner."  I 

ant    to  say  that   when  he  savs  his  prayers  he 

will  get  down  "li  his  hind  le-s  and  put  his  head 
on  his  pa  vv  -.  and  stay  there  until  some  one  sa  v  s 
"  Amen."  w  hen  he  jumps  ,,p.  I  can  not  think  of 
an\  of  the  other  things  that  I'hil  does,  but  1  think 

is  a  Very  Smart  dog.     Mamma  w  a-  in  i  'on  - 

-I  -  an  i  in.  r    -I'hil  lives  in  Concord— and  -  I.e 

says  that  Phil  stea  and  makes  himself 

sjck  .losJI-IHM     I, 

*MA. 


v.\v  i  [ori  nee  bas  something  to  tell  us  concern- 
ing o  pi. -a  san  i  time  out-of-doors : 

DAIS!  s  l>  \v  l\  Tin:  i  oi  vn."i 

i  -.  \     PLO 1 

once  11)1011  a  time  there  was  a  nice  little  girl, 
eight  years  old,  whosi  name  v.  .1- 1  »ais\ .  sh.  v.  as 

a  verv    g I  little  girl,  and  a  1  \\.i\~  did  w  hal  her 

II  Mil  her   told   her   to  do         One  day   she   \\  ell  I    1  o   V  I -11 

h.  i  .• i.  in  i  ne  countrj .  and  n  wa-  a  \  erj  long, 

pleasant  dav  to  her  She  \\enl  with  her  cousin 
May  all  around  the  farm,  and  h.  l|.ed  to  feed  the 
.hicks,  geese,  chickens,  dogs,  and  sheep. 
Then  they  both  played  with  May's  doll-,  and 
were  having  a  charming  time,  when  the  dinner- 
bell  rang:  so  thev  left  the  dolls  and  got  their 
dinner. 

Alter  dinner  Dai-v.  Ma\.  Charlie,  and  Fanny 
went  down  lo  a  little  river  not  far  troin  the 
house  and  stepped  into  a  row  boat,  i  'hat-lie  put 
the  luncheon  basket  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat, 

and  then  they  rowed  away  up  the  river  until  they 

came  I  o  a  small  island  wit  h  sloping  stony  shores, 
and  pretty  green  trees  and  grass  all  «.\er  il. 
Charlie  helped  them  all  ont.and  then  took  the 
basket.  Thev  strolled  about  looking  lor  wild 
(lowers,  and  soon  hail  their  aprons  full  of  daisies, 
hnn.reiips,  wild  roses,  and  johnny-jump  ups. 
w  hie  1 1  ihey  carefully  pm  in  the  boat  to  take  homi 
lo  their  mamma.  Then  Charlie  waded  into  the 
water  to  catch  frogs  and  minnows,  while  the  oth- 
ers were  looking  for  shells  and  pretty  stones 
While  they  were  laughing  and  playing  a  scream 
was  heard  from  Faun) .  w  ho.  while  listening  lo  a 
story  which  May  was  I  el  ling,  had  turn  hied  over  a 
log  and  fallen  int..  the  waler.  Charlie  immedi- 
ately came  forward  and  soon  brought  her  to  land, 
and  May  got  Daisy's  warm  coat  and  wrapped  it 
round  her.  and  she  soon  ueni  to  sleep.  When 
she  woke  up.  her  clothes,  which  were  hung  up  to 
dry.  were  all  ready  to  put  on.  and  when  she  was 
dressed  again  they  all  sat  down  to  their  lea- 
Alter  lea  Ihey  put  the  things  in  the  basket  and 
carried  it  down  lo  t  he  boat,  and  got  in.  and  w  ere 
nicely  seated,  when  they  heard  thunder.  May 
looked  up  at  the  dark  rolling  clouds,  and  Daisy 
said.  "Hurry  up.  <  harlie;  it  is  going  to  rain." 
"it  I  don't  want  to  he  soaked.  I  guess  I  will." 
answered  Charlie.  And  a-  he  spoke  another  peal 
of  thunder  ami  a  flash  of  lightning  came,  and  be- 
fore they  were  gone  the  children  felt  some  drops 
of  rain.  But  soon,  as  they  came  to  a  turn  in  the 
river,  they  saw  their  house.  They  presently  land- 
ed and  hurried  up  to  the  house,  where  they  found 
Daisy's  father  waiting  for  her  to  go  home  to  the 
city.  So.  after  saying  good-hy  to  them  all.  Daisy 
drove  home  with  her  father,  having  had  a  very 
happy  day. 

Annie  J.  D. :  The  pansies  in  my  garden  have 
been  injured  this  summer  by  a  tiny  worm,  which 
has  eaten  them  just  above  the  roots.  Perhaps 
yours  have  suffered  in  the  same  way,  or  else  the 
soil  may  not  be  suitable  for  them.— Juntos  M., 
Alice  (i..  L.iur.1  T.,  Jlury  I!.  «'.,  Kdnn  F..  Helen  W., 
Jennie  11..  I  .Inli  <  ..  Coral  M.  I  ..  Margaret  Jose- 
phine .-..  l.il.  1  Mud  I.  M.  A.  (I'll.,  liessie  I,..  Walter 
Scott  McF.,  Edwin  L.,  Louise  W.,  Lola  M.,  and 


.llailie  A.  will  please  accept  thanks  for  their  let 
ters.  — I'iemlaniia  M.  :  I  can  lo\e  you  more  than  a 
little  bit  in  return  f<  .r  -< ,  s\v  eet  a  me>-age  -  (  lara 
Peetz.  liock  I-lancl,  Illinois,  would  like  to  receive 
cotton  blooms  troui  Nannie  ]i  .  i  ,t  e.  n\  die.  s,,iii  h 
Carolina  -  l-iniestiiie  :  I; .-ad  \\  all er  Scott  as  deep- 
ly as  you  please,  dear,  but  wait  until  you  are  ,  ild 
cr  to  read  Nathaniel  Haw  t  borne. —Jessie  <;.  S. 
wishes  a  g 1  receipt  for  vanilla  caramels.— Wil- 
lie .M.  I!. :  You  write  a  very  good  hand. 


lT//l.i:s   FIJOM  YiM'Nt;   CONTRIBUTORS. 

Xo.  1. 

01  i:  YEKY  KASV  stjr.vuKs. 
1.  — 1.  A  berry.     •„'.  Wrath.     8.  A  vegetable. 

•J.  -  I.  .Made  haste.    xl.  Consumed.     ;;   A  snare. 
3. — 1.  An  edge.     ','.  A  girl's  name.     :t.  A  caress. 
4.— 1.  Several.     X!.  An  animal.     :;.    \svvelling. 
DAISY  DEE. 

No.  '-'. 
•I u  o   SII..IITI.Y    lIAUIIKIt   SQUARES. 

1.— 1.  A  boat      •„'.  A  biscuit.     .').  A  girl's   name. 
1.  An  exclamation. 

2.— 1.  A  tree.     s'.  A  piece.     :l.  Open  surface       I. 
A  heav  enl\    body.  \l.\ia    IJ|:\  . 

No.  :i. 

TWO  (II  vl:  VDKs. 
1.  Mv  t'n-st  gave  us  early  support, 

My  next  is  a  sweet  blushing  lass  ; 

TO    the    fields    it    at    eVe    \oll    repair 

M  \   w  hole  you  will  prob;.  bh  pass. 
".  My  first  is  only  a  name. 

M\  second  is  something  small  : 

M  \    \\  hole  is  ol    so  III  I  le  I e 

it  has  no  name  at  all.      I.II.Y  II.  Woon. 


A    QrESTIoN. 

Whal  word  "f  live  syllable-  is  that  from  which 
if  you  take  one   syllable   av\a>,  no  s\llal.le   n 
mains  ':  I.ILY  II.  \\  oon. 

No   .V 
..i.oi;i:.vcnn  AI.    \(  KOSTIC. 

The  first  letters  of  the  words  ill  the  answer 
re  .-el  d..\\  n\v  ard  vv  ill  give  t  he  name  of  a  celebraled 
s. , Idler  u  h. .  \\  as  h.  >rn  in  <  or-ica 

i  \  eiiy  iii  Italy,  a.  A  city  in  Greece  8  \ 
range  o!' mountains.  I.  A  river  in  North  Ameii 
ca.  .'..  A  city  on  I  he  Danube  r,  An  i-land  west 
of  Italy.  T.  A  river  in  Siberia,  s.  A  city  at  Ihe 
-junction  of  the  Volga  and  the  oka.  'I.  A  city  in 
France,  in.  A  lake  in  liussia.  1  I.  An  island  east 
ol  I. recce.  !•_'  A  small  -ea  south  of  Russia.  Kt. 
A  cil  y  in  I  he  soul  h  of  Africa.  14.  An  ocean  nort  h 
of  Europe.  )•''  Tin-  most  eastern  country  in  Ku- 
rope.  n;.  An  island  south  of  Australia.  17.  A 
strong  fort  ..n  tin-  Danube. 

ANSWHItS  TO   I'I'X/.LKS   IX  No.  187. 
No.  1.        T    O  T   A  DEAR 


o  V  H  It 
T  I-)  N  T 
A  II  T  S 


i:   A   s  E 

A    S     I    A 
H  U  A  R 


FAST 
ALOE 
SOLD 
T  E  D  Y 


I)  o  c; 
ONE 
G  E  T 


c  A  R 
ARE 
RED 


No.  3. 
Xo.  4. 


"  Waste  not.  want  not." 
Ton.    Mew.     Ant.    Nat.    Sow. 

Victoria. 

D  akota. 
A  Ips. 
V  olga. 
T    owa. 
D  ead. 

L  ondon. 

I    ndus. 

V  ictoria  Nyanza. 

I    ndians. 

N  ewport. 

G  anges. 

S   icily. 

T  aurns. 

o  rkney. 

N  atal. 

E  Ibe. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Anna  Mall. TV.  Mary  Taylor,  Kitty  Ho), per. 
Andrew  Pease.  John  McCorkle,  Theodore  Fan- 
ning, Bennie  Walter,  It.  <-'.  B.,  Anne  and  .lack. 
Fannie  S.,  Arabi  Bey,  Laura  E.  Whiton,  Clara 
Stettiner,  Carrie  Thorner,  Ilattie  Miller,  E.  L. 
Dunn,  Van  Wyck  Hayes.  Frank  Gifford,  L.  H., 
Tessie  Maine,  j.  Harry  Mowbr.ay.  Arthur  Apple- 
ton  Beebe.  Jennie  Comstock,  Lulu  B.,  T.  G.  Aims. 
Ernest  Darner,  Jacob  Johnson,  Princess  Daisy. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3rf  pages  of  cacer.] 


528 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THREE  ARTISTIC  MAIDENS. 

BY  MARGARET  JOHNSON. 
TpWAS  on  a  lovely  summer  day 
-*-   That  three  artistic  damsels  gay 
Set  forth  to  sketch  together. 
Each  bore  her  book  and  lunch-bag  small. 
And  each  her  ample  parasol, 
For  sunny  was  the  weather. 

"Come,"  cried  the  first,  "we'll  draw  that  tree!" 
"Nay,"  said  the  second,  "don't  you  see 

There's  quite  too  little  shadow? 
Let's  try  instead  this  bit  of  stone, 
AVith  moss  and  lichen  all  o'ergrown, 

Here  in  the  shady  meadow." 

"How  can  you  choose,"  exclaimed  the  third. 
"So  commonplace  a  thing!     I've  heard 

A  rustle  bridge  is  charming." 
At  which  the  oilier  two  declared 
To  speak  of  anything  so  hard 

Was  really  quite  alarmin  j. 


And  thus  from  early  morn  till  noon 
They  walked,  that  lovely  day  in  June, 

And  as  they  walked,  disputed. 
On  nothing  could  they  all  agree. 
Sure  as  one  said,  "That  pleases  me," 

The  others  were  not  suited. 


At  last  the  three,  with  sigh  and  frown, 
Upon  a  log  did  sit  them  down; 

And  while  their  bags  grew  thinner, 
They  speedily  became  once  more 
The  best  of  friends,  as  heretofore, 

And  quite  enjoyed  their  dinner. 


DOING  HIS  DUTY. 

C-ESAR  .'ind  his  master  had  gone  from  home  together,  and 
while  they  \\ere  a  way  the-  mastrr  found  in  his  pocket  a  key 
which  lie  .should  have  left  behind.  lie  ",a\e  the  key  to  the  dog 
and  told  him  to  take  it  bai-k.  This  Ca-sar  started  off  to  do.  (In 
his  \\  ay  he  was  attacked  by  a  butcher's  dog,  but  he  tore  himself 
from  his  enemy  ami  delivered  the  key  in  safety.  Ca'sar  then 
returned  by  the  road  he  came,  hunted  up  the  dog  that  had  at- 
tacked him,  and  then  ensue -.1  ;i  eomhat.  \vhieh  lasted  a  long  time, 
until  I  lie  dog  that  had  dared  to  interfere  with  another  in  the 
execution  of  his  duty  had  been  most  soundly  whipped. 


Monograms  on  left  of  bridge  :  two  persons  connected  with  the  history  of  the 
structure.    Monograms  on  right  of  bridge  :  two  prominent  officials  of  New- 
York  and  Brooklyn.    The  letters  which  are  found  in  numbered  spaces  give  the 
lines  of  five  well-known  bridges  in  this  country  and  England  :  all  the  letters 
arkcd  1  make  the  name  of  one  bridge,  those  marked  2  another,  and  so  on 
itil  the  five  are  found.     Xow  find  the  names  of  towns,  rivers,  etc..  which  are 
dicated  by  fourteen  numbered  rafts  which  are  floating  down  the  river.    The 
aitials  of  these  names,  when  found,  will  make,  if  used  in  the  same  order  as 
'  e  rafts  are  numbered,  the  name  of  one  of  the  most  prominent  invited  guests 


at  the  bridge  opening. 


GEORGE  FOLSOM. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED     WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  101. 


PUBLISHED  i;v   IIAKI'F.i:  A-    I'.ljnTH  KliS.  \,w  VOKK. 


ri.-i.  i:   n\  i:  i  KNTS. 


Tllrs,l:iy,  .Jim,,  -jil,  1883. 


Copyri(ht,  19-::,  l.y  ll»rin  i  BIUTUIU. 


SI. .VI  PIT  Yi-ar,  in  Advance. 


THE    CHALLENGE. 


530 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  BTJNCH  OF  CLOVER. 

BY  MRS.  M.  E.  SAXOSTEE. 

IT  grew  within  a  sunny  field, 
This  little  bunch  of  clover, 
And  clay  by  day  the  singing  "wind 

Just  kissed  it!  blowing  over 
Tin-  bending  yye,  the  feathered  grass, 

T.he  brier  woven  hedges, 
Until  il  readied  the  dancing  waves 
With  foamy  silver  edges. 

O  rosy  reef,  O  snowy  -white, 

The"  dainty  bunch  of  clover 
Knows  all  the  secrets  of  the  winds 

That  kissed  it  blowing  over; 
Ami  when  a  little  fevered  check 

Shall  feel  the  breezy  flowers, 
Each  tiny  top  will  whisper  sweet 

Of  Love  surpassing  ours. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  A  M  E  !-!      OTIS, 

AUTHOK  OF"  TOBY  TYLER."  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  "MR.  STI'BBS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IN   THE   TRACKLESS   FOREST. 

DARE  had  aimed  at  one  of  the  females,  instead  of  at  the 
buck,  because  she  had  chanced  to  be  nearer  to  him,  and 
although  she  did  not  fall  at  once,  he  knew  from  her  move- 
ments as  she  started  away  that  his  bullet  had  taken  effect. 

The  herd  were  off  at  ouce,  but  the  wounded  doe  ran  so 
unsteadily  that  Dare,  believing  she  would  drop  almost  im- 
mediately, raised  a  shout  of  triumph,  and  started  after  his 
game,  closely  followed  by  Tommy. 

The  trail  was  not  ditlicult  to  follow,  even  for  inexperi- 
enced hunters,  for  it  was  distinctly  marked  by  the  blood 
that  fell  from  the  wounded  animal,  and  Dare's  heart  beat 
high  at  the  thought  that  at  last  he  had  killed  the  game  he 
so  ardently  desired  to  kill. 

But  the  doe  was  not  so  near  her  death  as  he  had 
thought,  for  they  continued  to  follow,  catching  glimpses 
of  the  wounded  animal,  as,  left  far  behind  the  others  of  the 
herd,  she  ran  with  increasing  difficulty,  until  the  sun  had 
sunk  almost  below  the  tree-tops. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  chase  they  had  not  noticed  the 
passage  of  time,  and  when  at  last  they  came  to  where  the 
poor  animal  had  fallen,  never  to  rise  again,  they  were  sur- 
prised to  find  that  it  was  so  nearly  dark  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  they  could  see  the  game  they  had  killed. 

"We  must  hurry  back  to  the  Pearl,"  said  Dare,  as  he 
looked  about  him  with  a  troubled  air.  "for  it  won't  be  long 
before  it  will  be  too  late  for  us  to  be  able  to  tell  where  the 
west  is." 

It  seemed  as  if  Tommy  did  not  care  whether  they  could 
distinguish  the  points  of  the  compass  or  not,  and  he  an- 
swered, "All  right.''  much  as  if  they  only  had  the  ques- 
tion of  a  five  minutes'  tramp  before  them. 

Dare  was  so  thoroughly  anxious  about  their  position 
that  he  did  not  even  stop  to  try  and  skin  his  game,  but  com- 
menced hurriedly  to  cut  out  one  of  the  haunches  that  they 
might  at  least  have  proof  of  what  they  had  killed. 

Inexperienced  as  he  was.  and  with  only  a  small-sized 
hunting-knife  to  work  with,  it  was  no  slight  task  to  cut 
out  the  meat  he  wanted  to  carry,  and  when  the  job  was 
finished,  the  darkness,  which  in  tropical  countries  succeeds 
the  light  so  quickly,  had  formed  a  thick  veil  around  the 
hunters. 

During  the  operation  of  cutting  out  the  haunch  Dare 
had  turned  the  doe  several  times,  and  had  changed  his 
own  position  so  often  that  when  lie  was  ready  to  start 
again  he  had  no  more  idea  of  which  direction  lie  should 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


go  in  order  to  find  the  Pearl  than  if  he  had  been  led  there 
blindfolded. 

Not  wanting  Tommy  to  know  that  he  was  so  utterly 
confused,  he  called  to  him  to  follow,  and  started  off  at 
hap-hazard,  stumbling  over  trunks  of  trees,  and  tripped 
up  by  the  running  vines,  until  it  seemed  worse  than  folly 
for  them  to  continue  on  their  blind  course  any  longer. 

"Tommy,"  said  Dare,  solemnly,  as  he  stopped  and  took 
one  of  his  companion's  hands  in  his,  "  we're  lost !" 

"I  know  that,''  was  the  cool  reply  from  the  ex-pirate, 
but  he  appeared  perfectly  indifferent  about  the  matter. 

"But  what  shall  we  do  >"  asked  Dare,  irritated  by  the 
calm  manner  in  which  his  companion  spoke. 

"Get  up  in  a  tree,  an'  wait  till  morning,''  replied  Tom- 
my, calmly. 

The  ex-pirate's  advice  was  not  only  good,  but  it  seemed 
as  if  it  was  the  only  thing  that  could  be  done,  and  without 
being  able  to  see  toward  what  new  peril  they  were  going, 
they  began  to  climb  the  nearest  tree. 

With  their  guns' slung  on  their  backs,  the  boys  tried  to 
get  themselves  into  something  approaching  a  comfortable 
position  on  the  crotch  of  the  limb. 

But  it  is  hardly  possible  to  make  one's  self  comfortable 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree  when  it  is  a  question  of  remaining 
all  night,  and  the  hours  that  came  before  daylight 
seemed  the  longest  that  Dare  had  ever  known,  although 
it  is  possible  that  Tommy  had  had  some  experience  in 
dreary  hours  when  he  was  hiding  from  Captain  Sammy 
in  the  cabin  of  the  Pearl. 

Whenever  sleep  did  visit  their  eyelids  it  was  only  for  a 
few  moments,  and  then  they  would  awake  with  a  start  as 
they  found  themselves  slipping  from  their  perch. 

In  a  state  of  continual  awakenings,  intermingled  with 
the  greatest  desire  to  sleep,  the  time  passed,  and  daylight 
came  quite  as  suddenly  as  it  had  disappeared. 

The  first  thing  Dare  did  when  it  was  light  enough  for 
them  to  pursue  their  journey  again  was  to  fire  off  his  gun 
several  times,  that  the  report  might  serve  as  signal  in  case 
their  companions  were  anywhere  near  them. 

The  first  thing  Tommy  did  was  to  build  a  fire  and  cook 
some  slices  of  their  venison,  for  they  both  felt  nearly  fam- 
ished. 

The  breakfast  of  hot  meat  gave  them  renewed  courage, 
and  they  started  out  almost  thoroughly  refreshed. 

They  had  walked  nearly  an  hour  without  seeing  any  in- 
dications that  they  were  on  the  right  course,  when  Tom- 
my, who  was  in  advance,  uttered  a  cry  of  joy,  and  rush- 
ed toward  a  flat  stone,  at  which  he  gazed  intently. 

"  Here's  a  feller  what  '11  show  us  our  way !"  he  cried,  as 
he  pointed  to  what  looked  more  like  the  skeleton  of  an  in- 
sect than  anything  else.     "You 
wait  a  minute,  and  he'll  stand 
up  and  point  right  to  where  the 
Pearl  is." 

Dare  had  heard  since  he  had 
been  in  Florida  of  an  insect  call- 
ed "the  spectre,"  which  super- 
stitious people  believed  would 
point  out  the  way  to  travellers 
lost  in  the  forest,  and  without 
believing  that  it  possessed  any 
such  power,  he  examined  it  with 
much  interest. 

Tommy,  sincere  in  the  belief 
that  the  spectre  would  point  out 
the  right  direction  for  them  to 

take,  asked  very  solemnly  if  it  would  tell  them  the  way 
they  ought  to  go,  and  then  he  waited  patiently  for  an 
answer. 

ll  was  not  many  moments  before  the  insect  partly 
raised  its  body,  and  waved  its  fore-legs  to  and  fro  as  if 
really  answering  Tommy's  question. 

The  ex-pirate  started  off  at  once  in  thc-direclion  pointed 


THE    SPECTRE. 


Jl'XE  26,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


531 


out;  but  Dare,  who  remained  a  moment  longer,  saw  the 
spectre  seize  a  fly  in  its  feet,  killing  it  instantly.  It  had 
waved  its  legs  for  the  purpose  of  catching  the  fly.  rather 
than  to  show  Tommy  the  way,  although  no  amount  of 
reasoning  could  convince  the  boy  of  that  fact. 

Fortunately  the  insect  had  pointed  directly  in  the  course 
the  boys  had  been  pursuing,  so  that  there  was  no  need  of 
any  discussion  as  to  whether  they  should  follow  its  direc- 
tions or  not. 

It  was  nearly  noon  before  Tommy  lost  faith  in  the 
spectre's  power,  and  then  there  was  good  reason  for  it, 
since  they  had  walked  steadily  without  finding  even  a 
stream  which  might  give  them  a  course  for  the  lake. 

They  had  suffered  from  the  lack  of  water,  but  this  suf- 
fering had  not  been  severe,  since  they  had  found  pools  of 
brackish  water  now  and  then,  which  they  drank  as  eager- 
ly as  though  it  had  sparkled  like  crystal. 

They  were  now  as  hungry  as  they  had  been  in  the 
morning,  and  Dare  proposed  that  they  should  cook  more 
of  the  haunch  of  venison,  to  which  Tommy  had  clung 
firmly. 

But  it  was  only  necessary  to  attempt  to  cut  it  in  order 
to  find  that  it  was  no  longer  fit  for  food,  the  heat  having 
thoroughly  spoiled  it. 

"We  must  shoot,  the  first  thing  we  sec.  for  we  shall 
never  get  out  of  this  if  we  don't  keep  ourselves  strong  by 
plenty  of  fond,"  said  Dare,  and  Tommy  promised  to  ohey. 
which  promise  came  very  near  being  fatal  to  both  of  them. 

The  ex-pirate  was  in  advance,  and  in  less  than  ten  min- 
utes from  the  time  he  had  promised  to  shoot  the  tirst  ob- 
ject that  presented  itself,  Dare  saw  him  raise  his  gun  to 
his  shoulder. 

It  was  impossible  to  see  what  kind  of  game  the  hoy 
was  aiming  at.  hut  Dare  waited  silent  and  motionless, 
hoping  that  the  result  of  his  shot  might  he  a  good  dinner 
for  both. 

The  instant  the  report  of  the  rifle  died  away  Dare  heard 
a  loud  snarl,  and  a  rust  ling  of  the  bushes  a  short  distance 
ahead,  as  if  some  very  large  animal  had  been  wounded. 

At  the  same  time  Tommy  sprang  back  and  began  to  re- 
load his  gun. 

"What  was  it  ?''  asked  Dare,  beginning  to  grow  alarmed 
as  the  noise  in  the  bushes  increased. 

"A  panther,''  replied  Tommy,  in  much  the  same  tone 
he  would  have  used  if  he  had  said  "a  bird,"  and  then  he 
added,  quite  calmly,  "  I  tired  'cause  you  said  I  must  at  the 
first  thing  I  saw;  but  you'd  better  look  out,  for  he  ain't 
dead  yet." 

It  seemed  an  aggravation  of  their  misery  to  be  obliged 
to  fight  a  panther  when  they  were  exhausted  from  the 
long  tramp  and  lack  of  food ;  but  there  was  no  way  out 
•of  it,  and  Dare  peered  cautiously  around  in  order  to  be 
prepared  for  any  move  the  wounded  animal  might  make. 

It  was  hardly  a  moment  before  he  saw  the  panther  as, 
reared  on  its  hind-legs,  it  seemed  to  be  coming  directly 
toward  them,  and  not  more  than  ten  yards  away. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

OUT   OF   THE   WILDERNESS. 

IT  was  anything  rather  than  a  pleasant  or  even  safe 
position  in  which  the  boys  found  themselves,  with  a 
wounded  panther  advancing  directly  toward  them,  and 
they  with  no  weapons  other  than  two  muzzle-loading  rifles. 

But  there  was  only  one  way  in  which  they  could  hope 
to  get  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  that  was  by  continuing 
the  attack  which  Tommy  had  so  rashly  begun. 

Reared  on  its  hind-legs  as  it  was,  the  animal  presented 
a  fair  mark  at  short  range,  and  Dare  fired  at  him  quickly, 
certain  that  he  hit  him  full  in  the  breast,  but  without  caus- 
ing any  change  in  his  movements. 

Tommy,  who  had  taken  refuge  behind  a  tree,  where  he 
loaded  his  gun  with  all  the  coolness  and  precision  of  an 


old  hunter,  was  ready  to  take  up  his  portion  of  the  thread 
of  the  difficulty,  and  he  also  sent  a  bullet  with  apparently 
as  true  an  aim  as  Dare's. 

At  receiving  this  shot  the  furious  animal  was  brought 
to  the  ground,  where  he  gave  such  evidences  of  strength  as 
warned  the  hunters  that  there  was  plenty  of  fight  left  in 
him  despite  his  wounds. 

Dare  followed  Tommy's  example  of  loading  while  be- 
hind a  tree,  and  two  heavy  charges  were  put  into  the  guns. 
The  monster  was  still  writhing  on  the  ground,  and  the 
boys,  stepping  cautiously  up  to  within  ten  or  twelve  feet 
of  the  brute,  sent  two  bullets  crashing  into  his  skull, 
which  had  the  effect  of  killing  him  instantly. 

It  was  a  short  but  hard  battle,  well  fought,  and  the  boys 
stood  viewing  the  evidence  of  their  skill  as  marksmen, 
without  a  thought  of  the  fact  that  they  were  lost  in  the 
forest,  when  suddenly  a  familiar  sound  greeted  their  ears, 
causing  them  to  shout  for  very  joy. 

It  was  the  whistle  of  the  Pearl,  and  could  not  have  been 
more  than  half  a  mile  away. 

"They  must  have  heard  us  while  we  were  firing  at  the 
pant  her."  said  Dare,  joyfully,  "but  we  will  fire  once  more 
to  make  sure." 

The  guns  were  loaded  with  powder,  and  both  discharged 
at  the  same  time.  Then  came  three  short  whistles,  show- 
ing that  the  signal  had  been  heard,  and  after  that,  prolong- 
ed whistling  at  regular  intervals,  so  that,  the  lost  ones 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  retracing  their  steps. 

Dare  was  anxious  to  carry  the  skin  of  the  panther  with 
him  as  a  trophy,  and  lie  insisted  on  skinning  the  carcass 
before  starting  again  to  rejoin  their  friends. 

The  hide  was  not  taken  oft'  in  a  remarkably  workman- 
like manner,  but  it  was  off.  at  all  events,  and  then  came  a 
hurried  march  over  fallen  trees,  among  climbing,  clinging 
vines  where  poisonous  reptiles  lurked,  until  at  last  the 
waters  of  the  lake  could  he  seen  from  among  the  trees. 

The  little  steamer  had  never  looked  half  so  beautiful  as 
when  I>are  and  Tommy  stepped  out  on  the  hard  beach 
where  they  could  see  her  a  short  distance  from  the  shore, 
while  (.'barley  and  Bobby  were  just  putting  off  in  the 
tender. 

Five  minutes  later  and  they  were  in  their  floating  home 
once  more,  trying  to  eat  as  many  as  three  meals  in  one, 
and  tell  their  story  at  the  same  time. 

"  It  won't  do  to  try  any  more  such  hunting  adventures, 
lads,  for  you  might  not  get  oft'  so  easily  next  time,  and  I 
don't  propose  to  leave  any  of  you  here  in  the  Everglades," 
said  Captain  Sammy,  in  as  stern  a  voice  as  possible;  but 
his  joy  at  their  safe  return  was  too  great  to  admit  of  his 
speaking  as  gruffly  as  he  could  sometimes. 

The  Pearl,  which  had  been  cruising  along  the  shore  all 
the  forenoon,  until  the  reports  of  the  guns  were  heard, 
was  run  back  to  her  former  anchorage,  and  after  everything 
was  made  snug  for  the  second  time  Captain  Sammy  said: 

"Tommy,  there's  a  cabbage-palm  right  over  there. 
Can't  you  climb  it?" 

"  Of  course  I  can,"  replied  the  ex-pirate,  in  disdain  that 
there  should  be  any  question  about  his  ability  to  do  such 
a  simple  thing. 

"All  right — here's  my  belt  and  knife,  and  if  the  boys 
will  row  you  ashore,  we'll  show  them  what  a  cabbage  that 
is  raised  oil  a  tree  tastes  like." 

The  boys  were  only  too  willing  to  do  as  the  little  man 
suggested,  for  they  were  anxious  both  to  see  a  cabbage- 
palm  and  to  find  out  how  a  leathern  belt  and  sheath-knife 
could  be  used  in  climbing  a  tree. 

After  they  were  on  shore  and  Tommy  had  started  in 
the  direction  Captain  Sammy  had  pointed  out,  the  boys 
could  see  the  famous  cabbage-palm,  as  it  reared  its  grace- 
ful head  above  the  surrounding  trees.  Fully  ninety  feet 
the  trunk  rose  straight  as  a  reed,  with  not  a  branch  to  mar 
its  tapering  symmetry,  and  the  top  was  one  immense  mass 
of  dark  green  fan-shaped  leaves. 


532 


'HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


It,   was   in    the    centre    of 
these  leaves  that  the  cabbage, 

which  is  really  a  young,  ten- 
der shoot,  would  be  found, 
protected  by  numerous  fibres 

or  folds,  and  Tommy  set  about  his  task  of  getting  it  with 
the  greatest  unconcern. 

He  buckled  the  belt  around  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and 
his  own  body,  and  by  holding  on  with  his  knees  while  he 
shoved  the  belt  further  up  on  the  trunk,  he  was  enabled  to 
make  reasonably  rapid  progress,  at  the  same  time  teaching 
bis  companions  a  lesson  in  tree-climbing. 

On  reaching  the  top  Tommy  cut  off  some  of  the  large 
leaves,  which  would  make  an  excellent  camp  on  shore, 
and  then  cut  the  cabbage  from  its  secure  and  cozy  home. 

Captain  Sammy  was  as  delighted  with  the  prize  when  it 
was  brought  to  him  as  if  he  had  received  one  of  the  veri- 
table vegetables  from  which  the  tree  takes  its  name ;  but 
when  it  was  cooked  that  night  the  boys  could 'not  detect 
very  much  of  a  cabbage  flavor.  Dare  thought  it  was  more 
like  a  boiled  chestnut  in  taste,  and  the  others  were  of  his 
opinion,  all 'save  Captain  Sammy,  who  would  insist  that 
the  flavor  was  .that  of  a  cabbage  arid  nothing  else. 

The  little  man  showed  them  how  to  tan  the  skin  of  the 
panther,  and  Tommy  and  Dare  worked  at  it  while  Charley 
and  Bobby  went  on  shore  to  shoot  some  sand-cranes,  com- 
ing back  with  two  fine  specimens,  which  Captain  Sammy 
promised  to  stuff  for  them. 

This  offer  raised  the  greatest  enthusiasm  on  the  subject 
of  stuffed  birds  among  the  boys;  and  the  little  Captain 
found  that  if  he  granted  all  the  requests  he  should  have 
work  enough  on  hand  to  keep  him  busy  about  two  months, 
therefore  he  proposed  to  teach  the  art  of  taxidermy  to  them, 
so  that  they  might  carry  with  them  a  goodly  collection  of 
specimens  from  the  Everglades. 

Dare  and  Charley  were  delighted  with  this  plan,  and 
for  the  next  ten  days  little  was  done  save  stuffing  and 
mounting  the  birds  which  Tommy  and  Bobby  brought  in. 
When  every  available  inch  of  space  in  both  cabins  was 
filled  with  birds  of  gorgeous  plumage  or  grotesque  shapes, 
Captain  Sammy  proposed  that  they  start  the  idle  engines 
once  more,  and  make  a  complete  tour  of  the  lake,  which 
proposition  was  accepted  without  a  dissenting  voice. 

[TO  HE    CONTINUKD.] 


"KATIE'S  WOKK." 

BY  ADA  CARLETOX  STODDARD. 

URRAH!" 

The  door  flew  open 
with  a  bang  as  Phil  Payson 
burst  into  the  little  room 
where  his  mother  and  his 
sister  Katie  sat  sewing,  his 
face  flushed,  his  eyes  shin- 
ing, and  his  cap  swinging 
high  over  his  head. 
"Why,  Phil!" 
"(live  three  cheers,  mo- 
ther !  Dance  like  a  derv- 
ish, Kate !  I'm  going  to  be 
night-watchman  in  Mr. 
Medway's  mill,  at  fifteen 
dollars  a  month.  Oh,  mo- 
ther, ain't  you  glad?" 

"Very  glad  indeed,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Payson,  and 
for  a  moment  she  looked 
pleased  enough  to  satisfy 
Phil's  highest  expectations. 
Then  her  face  clouded. 

"  But  your  school,  Phil 
dear:  I  can't  have  you 
leave  that." 

"  I  don't  mean  to,  mother,"  said  Phil,  earnestly.  "  It's 
all  fixed  just  right.  I'll  study  nights — it  will  help  keep 
me  awake,  you  know — and  Miss  Gary  is  going  to  hear  me 
recite  every  afternoon,  at  five  o'clock.  She  offered  to, 
mother.  Oh,  mother,  do  say  you're  glad,  really!" 

Mrs.  Payson  pulled  her  tall  hoy  down,  and  kissed  him 
tenderly  on  both  glowing  cheeks.  As  for  Katie,  she  was 
literally  on  tiptoe  with  delight.  She  was  a  little  brown 
gypsy,  with  dark  eyes  full  of  fire  and  fun. 

' '  Good  for  Miss  Gary,''  she  cried,  twirling  lightly  around 
on  her  toes.  "  Isn't  she  just  splendid  ?" 

"  She  is  very  kind, "said  Mrs.  Payson,  smiling;  "  and  I 
am  glad,  Phil,  more  glad  than  I  can  tell  you.  How  came 
Mr.  Medway  to  give  you  the  place  ?  It  is  a  very  responsi- 
ble position,  you  know." 

"Yes,"  said  Phil,  and  he  blushed  and  hung  his  head. 
"Squire  Deems  recommended  me,  mother.  Mr.  Medway 
said  he  told  him  I  was  a  very  trustworthy  boy.  I'm  sor- 
ry I  said  such  hard  things  about  him." 

"  I'm  sure  he  deserved  it,"  Katie  flashed  forth,  "  for  ad- 
vising mamma  to  'put  us  out' — that  is  just  what  he  said — 
when — papa — went  away,  and  offering  to  find  good  homes 
for  vis.  The  idea!  What  would  a  home  be  without  mam- 
ma I  and  what  would  she  do  without  us,  I'd  like  to  know  >'' 
"What,  indeed !"  echoed  her  mother.  "  I  can't  tell,  Ka- 
tie. But  Squire  Deems  thought  he  was  acting  for  the  best. 
He  has  been  very  kind  all  through  our  trouble,  and  I  am 
sure  it  was  his  influence  that  procured  Phil  this  situation." 
"  But  it's  mean  for  Phil  to  do  it  all,"  argued  Katie.  "  I 
wish  I  could  do  something." 

Phil  wrinkled  his  nose  at  his  sister  and  laughed. 
"I'm  the  man  o'  this  house, "said  he.      "You  and  mo- 
ther are  ladies,  Katydid.     I  don't  mean  you  shall  do  much 
more  sewing  for  people." 

"My  fifteen-year-old  man,"  said  his  mother,  laughing 
too;  but  there  were  tears  gathering  in  her  eyes. 

And  Katie  dimpled,  and  then  relapsed  into  swift  gravity. 
"I  know  what  I  can  do,  Phil,"  she  said,  going  close  to 
her  brother:  "I  can  hold  up  your  hands  the  way  that 
somebody  in  the  Bible  did.  I  can  see  the  mill  from  my 
window,  and  every  night — every  night,  Phil,  before  I  go 
to  sleep,  I  shall  ask  God  to  take  care  of  my  brother;  and 
every  time  I'm  awake  I  shall  look  down  at  you,  so  you 
needn't  feel  lonesome." 


JUNE  26,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


533 


"Something  of  the  guardian  angel  style  i"  laughed  Phil, 
trying  to  joke  away  the  moisture  he  felt  creeping  into  his 
eyes  "You're  a  trump,  Katie;  hut  of  course  that 's  all 
nonsense— the  looking  out,  you  know." 

Katie  wasn't  sure  of  that,  however,  and  she  meant  to 
do  just  as  she  said  if  it  were.  She  \\ould  feel  as  if  she 
were  somehow-  helping  Phil,  and  that  would  lie  a  comfort. 
Their  little  dwelling,  though  on  the  same  side  of  the  river 
as  the  mill,  was  above  it,  and  around  a  wide  lien d :  and  so 
tlie  lung  !<>\v  structure  under  the  river-hank  was  in  plain 
view  from  the  window  of  Katie's  lift le chamber.  She  kept 
her  word  faithfully:  and  once  or  twice  everj  night  she 
would  creep  out  of  her  warm  nest  to  the  window,  and  look 
down  across  the  bend  to  the  mill.  (  M'teu.  not  always,  she 
i 'oi  i  Id  see  Phil's  light  shining  out  of  the  engine  room,  .mil 
sometimes  sbe  watched  it  go  from  window  to  window  as 
Phil  went  his  hourly  rounds  over  the  mill.  As  for  Phil, 
T  am  sure  that,  though  lie  would  hardly  have  acknow- 
ledged it,  the  lonely  place  where  his  nights  were  passed 
seemed  far  less  lonely  to  him  when  he  remembered  that 
Katie  niiu'ht  at  any  minute  be  looking  from  her  window 
and  thinking  of  him. 

So  a  month  passed  by,  and  Phil  performed  Ins  duties  to 
Mi  Medway's  entire  satisfaction.  There  were  some,  in- 
deed, who  considered  him  much  loo  young  for  his  post, 
anil  did  nol  In  -hale  to  sa  \  so.  I'.ul  M  r.  Med  w  ay  a  I  w  a  \  s 
answered  with  a  smile: 

"  \Yell.  Sipiire  1  >eems  recommei, dei  1  him.  and  guaran- 
teed I  wouldn't  be  sorry  1  hired  him.  I've  tesicd  him  all 
times  o'  night;  he's  always  wide  awake  and  about  Ins  busi- 
ness. He  does  the  work  of  a  man,  and  1  get  him  ten  dol- 
lars on  a  month's  hire  less." 

Which  was  very  true,  and  Mr.  Medway  ought   to  have 
blushed  for  it.  though,  to  be  sure.  Phil  was  more  than  sat 
islied  with  what   he  received. 

''I'm  only  two-thirds  of  a  man  yet."  he  said  to  his  mo 
ther.  laughingly.  "I'm  lucky  to  u-et  the  place.  There 
are  enough  more  who  would  be  glad  to  take  it." 

He  kept    well   u]>  with   his  classes  loo,    he  was  so  ambi 
lions.      Miss  (  lary  declared 
she    WES    proud    of    him    to 
Katie,    and     Katie's     heart 
swelled  with  joy  to  hear  it. 

(  )ne  da\  early  in  March 
something  happened.  Mrs. 
Payson  was  taken  sudden 
ly  and  violently  ill.      Ka 
tie.  terrified  beyond    mea 
sure,  could  do  nothing  but 
rouse  Phil  from  his  sleep; 
and  when  the  boy,  start  led 
by  his  sister's  white  scared 
face,  had  brought  the  doc- 
tor, he  felt  as  though  he 
could  never  sleep  again. 

There  was  no  great  cause 
for  alarm,  however. 

"It's  a  had  attack  of 
cramp,"  Dr.  Daley  said, 
with  a  re-assuring  smile  in 
Katie's  direction.  "You're 
doing  just  right.  Apply 
hot  cloths,  and  keep  them 
hot.  The  spasms  will  ease 
away  in  a  little  time." 

It  was  not  until  nearly 
night  -  fall,  nevertheless, 
that  Mrs.  Payson  became 
perfectly  free  from  pain 
and  quite  herself  again. 
Then  Phil,  light-hearted 
enough,  and  whistling  a 
merry  air,  took  up  his 


lunch-basket  and  his  books  and  trudged  off  to  his  work. 
Katie,  troubled,  followed  him  to  the  door. 

"I'd  get  some  one  else  to-night.  Phil."  she  said.  "You 
have  always  been  used  to  sleeping  all  day.  What  if — " 

But  Phil  laughed,  and  opened  his  dark  eyes  to  their  ut- 
most. "I'm  as  wide  awake  as  an  owl,"  said  he.  "I 
couldn't  go  to  sleep  if  I  wanted  to.  See!" 

Katie  laughed  too  at  the  comical,  strained  expression 
on  Phil's  face.  But  she  couldn't  help  feeling  a  little  anx- 
ious as  she  went  slowly  back  into  the  house.  Suppose 
Phil  should  go  to  sleep,  and  Mr.  Medway  have  a  notion 
to  visit  him.  as  he  often  did.  Katie  knew,  what  a  sad 
thing  that  wou Id  be  for  them  all.  and  how  dreadfully  Phil 
would  feel ! 

"It  would  just  break  his  heart,  I  know,"  said  she  to 
herself.  "But  of  course  he  won't." 

Katie's  prayer  for  her  brother's  welfare  was  much  long- 
er that  7iight  than  usual;  and,  once  in  bed,  she  tossed  and 
tumbled,  only  to  fallal  last  into  an  uneasy  slumber.  More 
than  once  before  the  little  clock  on  the  sitting  room  man 
tel  struck  ten  she  sprang  to  the  window  and  gazed  down 
across  the  wide  w  bile  river  bend,  only  to  see  Phil's  lamp 
beaming  cheerily  in  the  engine  room.  How  Phil  would 
lann'h  at  her  if  he  knew,  she  thought,  feeling  really  out  of 
patience  with  herself. 

"1  won't  look  out  again,"  she  said.  "It's  nonsense, 
just  MS  Phil  said.  I  will  not  look  out  again  to-night." 

lint  she  did  —once  more.    The  lamp  in  the  engine-room 

still  burned  steadily.      It   would  have  1 u  a  relief  to  see 

the  light  Hashing  from  window  to  window  as  she  had  seen 
it  so  often.  Kalie  thought.  She  could  feel  sure  then  that 
all  was  right.  Now  — 

Was  that  the  laui]i.'  It  dickered  strangely.  One  in- 
stant it  died  into  the  ghost  of  a  light,  and  the  next  it  flared 
brilliantly.  Katie  rubbed  her  eyes  in  wondering  terror. 
It  was  no  illusion;  the  light  shining  from  the  engine- 
room  window  was  not  clear  steady  lamp-light.  It  was 
red — like  lire  ! 

Katie  was  already  hurrying  on  her  clothes.     There  was 


-    .       . 

v 


••PHIL:  DEAR  PHIL:'  SHE  CRIED.    ' OK— FIXE."' 


534 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


a  dreadful  lump  ill  her  throat,  and  her  breath  came  in 
short,  quick  gasps.  She  did  not  pause  for  her  boots  with 
their  endless  rows  of  buttons;  she  pulled  on  her  stockings 
and  rushed  swiftly  out  of  her  room  and  down-stairs,  catch- 
ing a  shawl  from  the  hall  stand  as  she  ran.  Behind  the 
kitchen  stove  hung  a  pair  of  Phil's  thick  woollen  stockings, 
and  these  she  hastily  pulled  on  over  her  own.  There  was 
no  question  in  her  mind  as  to  the  course  she  would  take. 
It  was  more  than  half  a  mile  by  the  road  to  the  mill; 
across  the  river  bend  it  was  less  than  half  that  distance. 

The  late  rains  had  swelled  the  river,  and  overflowed  its 
banks,  but  the  bridge  was  still  there,  even  though  many 
of  the  country  people  had  begun  to  think  it  unsafe.  Katie 
did  not  doubt  for  a  moment  but  that  it  would  hold  her 
light  weight,  and  over  it  she  flew.  She  thought  that  it 
creaked  and  swayed  under  her,  and  she  fancied  herself 
breaking  through  once  or  twice,  but  on  she  sped,  her 
large  dark  eyes  strained  and  fixed  on  that  flaring  red 
light.  It  seemed  hours  to  her  before  she  reached  the 
mill.  She  had  been  there  before  to  take  Phil  his  lunch 
once  when  he  had  forgotten  it,  and  she  knew  the  way 
perfectly  well.  In  at  the  dark  yawning  door  she  darted, 
and  up  two  or  three  narrow  steps.  There  was  smoke  in 
the  air — surely. 

She  opened  the  door  of  the  engine-room,  and  closed  it 
hastily  behind  her,  with  a  quick,  shrill  cry  of  dismay. 

"Phil!     Oh,  Phil:1' 

For  the  room  was  full  of  smoke.  Through  it  the  lamp- 
light showed  pale  and  dim.  Little  tongues  of  flame  were 
running  over  the  floor  before  the  great  furnace,  lapping 
up  a  shaving  here  and  there,  and  crawling,  snake-like,  up 
the  wall  very  near  the  window.  And  Phil  sat  by  the 
rough  table,  his  face  buried  in  his  arms,  asleep — so  sound 
asleep  and  so  stupefied  by  the  smoke  that  Katie's  first  cry 
failed  to  arouse  him. 

She  screamed  with  all  her  might,  and  shook  him  then. 

"Phil!  dear  Phil!"  she  cried.      "Oh— fire!" 

It  all  happened  in  very  little  time.  That  one  last  word 
shrieked  in  Phil's  ear  awoke  him  effectually.  He  under- 
stood the  situation,  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Don't  whistle!''  cried  Katie,  catching  his  arm.  "Don't 
rouse  the  town,  Phil.  We  can  put  it  out." 

They  fell  to  work  then  with  a  will.  After  all,  it  was 
not  much  of  a  battle.  There  were  pails  and  an  abundance 
of  water  at  hand,  and  the  fire  was  not  really  under  head- 
way. The  flames,  though  wide-spread,  had  not  begun  to 
burn  through  the  solid  floor,  which  was  soon  thoroughly 
flooded.  In  a  very  few  minutes  it  was  all  over,  and  Phil 
had  opened  the  window.  He  turned  to  Katie  then,  who 
stood  pale  and  trembling,  as  she  had  not  trembled  before. 

"Oh,  Katie!"  he  cried,  chokingly,  "how  did  you — 

And  Katie  told — or  tried  to  tell  him  ;  but  long  before  she 
had  finished  she  was  crying  hysterically  around  his  neck. 

"Oh,  Katie  darling,  don't.     Don't,  Katie." 

The  door  opened  at  that  moment.  Phil  knew  who 
stood  there  before  he  heard  Mr.  Medway's  voice. 

"Heyday !     What's  all  this  fuss  about  ?" 

"There  has  been  a  fire,  sir,"  answered  Phil,  readily, 
though  with  a  shake  in  his  voice.  "But  it  is  out  now." 

Mr.  Medway  stepped  into  the  room  without  another 
word,  and  taking  up  the  lamp  proceeded  to  examine  the 
wall,  the  floor,  and  the  furnace  itself  carefully. 

"  Gibbs  must  look  after  this  a  little  in  the  morning," he 
said;  and  he  placed  the  lamp  on  the  bench  again,  while 
Katie  and  Phil  stood  by  with  sinking  hearts.  Suddenly 
he  looked  at  Phil's  sister.  ' '  Why,  what  are  you  here  for  ?" 
he  asked,  not  unkindly. 

Ah,  how  easy  it  would  have  been  not  to  tell  him — to 
say  that  Phil  was  lonesome  and  wanted  her  for  company; 
to  say  anything  but  the  dreadful  truth.  But  Katie's  hoii- 
est  little  nature  abhorred  a  falsehood. 

"I — I — he  was — I — "  she  stammered,  with  many  pain- 
ful pauses,  ' '  I — 


But  right  here  Phil  came  bravely  to  the  rescue. 

"I  was  asleep,  Mr.  Medway,"  he  said,  "and  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  Katie  your  mill — 

' '  Asleep !''  repeated  Mr.  Medway,  his  face  stern  and 
cold. 

It  was  an  awful  moment,  and  Katie  ended  it  by  spring- 
ing forward  and  grasping  Mr.  Medway's  hand. 

"  Oh,  if  you  please,"  she  cried,  "  may  I  tell  you  how  he 
happened  to  do  it  ?  Mamma  was  ill,  and  he  could  not 
sleep  at  all  yesterday.  It  was  not  his  fault,  sir — indeed  it 
was  not.  Poor  Phil !  Oh,  sir — 

Mr.  Medway  was  not  at  all  a  hard-hearted  man,  though 
perhaps  a  little  too  intent  on  his  own  particular  interests. 
His  voice  was  husky  when  he.  spoke  to  Katie. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  see  the  fire  ?" 

"Why— I— I— 

"She  looks  out  of  her  window  a  dozen  times  a  night 
to  see  that  I'm  all  right,"  said  Phil,  with  brusque  earnest- 
ness; "and  she  prays  for  me  before  she  goes  to  sleep. 
That's  how,  Mr.  Medway.  Oh,  Katie,  little  sister !" 

"Well!  well!"  said  Mr.  Medway,  who  seemed  to  be 
having  a  great  deal  of  trouble  with  his  throat  and  eyes. 
"Well!  well!"  And  he  was  silent  for  what  seemed  to 
Katie  and  Phil  a  long,  long  time. 

"I  suppose  I  needn't — needn't  come  here  again,"  Phil 
mustered  courage  to  say  presently. 

"  Not  come  again  ?"  echoed  Mr.  Medway.  "Why  not, 
boy?  Of  course  you'll  come  again,  every  night."  He 
put  his  hand  on  Katie's  head.  "And  I'm  going  to  pay 
you  a  man's  wages  after  this,  remember.  A  boy  with  a 
sister  like  yours  ought  to  be  encouraged.  I'm  pretty  sure 
you  won't  let  this  happen  again." 

And  he  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

"Oh,  Phil!" 

"Oh,  Katie!" 

They  went  home  in  the  morning  early,  and  Mrs.  Pay- 
son  heard  the  story  of  the  night's  adventure. 

"Twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  mother!"  cried  Phil. 
"  Think  of  that!  And  it's  all  Katie's  work,  every  bit." 

But  Mrs.  Payson,  thinking  too  of  Katie's  work,  shud- 
dered and  drew  them  close,  and  kissed  them  both. 


PERIL   AND    PRIVATION. 


BY  JAMES  PAYN. 


IN    SIGHT    OF    HOME. 

ONE  of  the  most  striking  "personal  preservations"  ever 
recorded  took  place  on  the  familiar  coast  between 
Dartmouth  and  Torbay,  England,  and  it  did  not  happen  to 
a  "  bold  smuggler, "as  it  ought  to  have  done,  but  quite  the 
contrary,  that  is,  to  a  coast-guardsman.  He  was  first 
lieutenant  of  the  Dart,  the  revenue  cruiser  on  that  sta- 
tion, and  on  news  being  brought  him  one  evening  of  a 
projected  "run,"  as  the  smuggling  traffic  was  called,  it 
was  the  second  lieutenant's  duty  to  go  with  an  armed  gal- 
ley to  prevent  it. 

"  As  my  brother  officer,  however,  was  going  ashore  that 
night,"  he  says,  "I  took  his  place."  The  lieutenant  start- 
ed with  six  sailors  and  a  marine.  Their  oars  were  muffled, 
and  they  soon  lost  sight  of  the  Dart.  "The  lights  of  the 
near  and  overhanging  houses  shone  for  a  minute  or  two 
between  her  masts  and  yards ;  then  the  lofty  black  land 
and  the  glittering  lights  of  the  elevated  town,  never  to  be 
beheld  again  by  most  of  us." 

It  was  the  1st  of  March ;  the  night  was  cold  and  show- 
ery, and  as  they  pulled  toward  "Berry  Head"  a  heavy 
ground-swell  seemed  to  foretell  a  gale.  In  rounding  the 
Head  they  shipped  several  seas,  which  made  them  chill 
and  cheerless  enough.  At  half  past  one,  on  reaching  the 
entrance  of  the  sound  that  separates  the  Mewstone  from  the 
mainland,  the  lieutenant  determined  to  pass  through  it, 
ordering  the  bow  man  "to  keep  a  very  careful  lookout, 


JUXE  26,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


63* 


and  of  course  very  careful  myself."  In  tliis  man  nor  they 
had  half  threaded  the  dangerous  passage,  the  "  Ay.  ay,  sir," 
of  the  man  at  the  bow  repeatedly  replying  to  the  lieuten- 
ant's directions  to  "  look  out,"  when,  to  their  great  surprise, 
the  boat  struck  on  something  forward. 

"There's  a  rock  under  the  bow,  sir.     Back  off  all — all." 

Before  the  men  could  do  so,  however,  the  retiring  swell 
left  the  galley  suspended,  "and  being  of  that  class  justly 
called  'Deaths,'  she  almost  instantly  fell  on  her  broad 
side."     While  the  words,  "Throw  the  ballast  bags  over-  ' 
board!"  were  passing  the  lieutenant's  lips,  she  sank  under 
him.      ''For  a  second  or  two  the  men  forward  appeared 
high  and  dry  out  of  water;  then  she  slipped  off  the  rock, 
disappeared,  and  not  a  splinter  of  her  was  ever  seen  aga  i  1 1 . " 

The  lieutenant  could  swim  better  than  most  men,  and 
had  great  confidence  in  his  powers,  but  benumbed  as  he 
was  with  cold,  071  an  iron-bound  coast,  and  with  such  a 
sea,  "it  appeared  little  short  of  a  miracle  that  could  save 
me." 

As  to  saving  others,  "all  such  thoughts  were  quite  out 
of  the  question."  His  first  object,  indeed,  was  to  escape 
the  grasp  of  his  drowning  crew,  more  particularly  of  the 
poor  marine  close  behind  him,  "whom  I  had  seen  com- 
fortably settled,  and  apparently  fast  asleep,  a  few  seconds 
ago."  He  accordingly  seized  the  spokesman's  oar.  as  it 
floated  past  him,  and  "giving  myself  what  little  impetus 
my  sinking  footing  would  admit  of,"  he  struck  out  in  the 
opposite  direction  to  the  rock,  which  he  foresaw  the  rest 
would  make  for. 

After  a  few  strokes  he  looked  behind,  and  this  is  what 
he  saw — and  heard:  "The  galley  was  gone!  But  as  1 
rode  on  the  crest  of  the  wave,  the  sparkling  of  the  sea  be- 
neath me  and  the  wild  shrieks  that  rose  from  the  watery 
hollow  too  plainly  pointed  out  the  fatal  spot  where  the 
poor  fellows  were  sinking  in  each  other's  embrace.  For 
a  few  seconds  a  sea  arose  and  hid  the  place  from  my  view ; 
and  on  again  getting  a  glimpse  of  it  the  sparkling  of  the 
water  was  scarcely  discernible,  and  a  faint  murmur  only 
crept  along  the  surface  of  the  waves.  Another  sea  fol- 
lowed. As  it  rose  between  me  and  heaven  I  saw  on  its 
black  outline  a  hand  clutching  at  the  clouds  above  it.  A 
faint  gurgle  followed,  the  sea  rolled  sullenly  by,  and  all 
was  dark  and  silent  around  me."  A  sight,  as  our  lieuten- 
ant truly  observes,  which  many  must  have  witnessed,  but 
few  have  lived  to  describe. 

As  for  himself,  his  case  seemed  desperate  enough,  for 
if  he  should  reach  the  shore  the  surf  would  clash  him  to 
pieces,  and  even  if  he  should  land,  the  cliffs  were  so  steep 
that  it  would  only  be  to  die  a  more  lingering  death. 

The  lieutenant,  however,  was  one  of  those  men  who 
"never  say  die,"  and  clutch  hope  by  its  last  skirt.  He 
had  a  suit  of  heavy  "Flushings"  over  his  jacket  and 
trousers,  and  a  large  boat  cloak,  which,  however  comfort- 
able for  sitting  in,  were  quite  too  clumsy  to  swim  in.  By 
help  of  his  supporting  oar  lie  got  rid  of  his  cloak  and  his 
two  jackets,  but  he  did  not  dare  attempt  to  rid  himself  of 
the  two  pairs  of  trousers,  lest  they  should  cling  round  his 
ankles  and  hamper  his  movements;  nor  did  he  cast  off 
his  shoes,  since,  he  reflected,  they  would  save  his  feet  from 
being  cut  against  the  rocks. 

The  coolness  and  common-sense  of  this  gentleman,  con- 
sidering the  circumstances  in  which  lie  found  himself, 
were  such,  in  short,  as  it  would  be  difficult  to  surpass. 
Thus  lightened,  and  "with  the  oar  held  fore-and-aft  wise 
under  my  left  arm,  I  struck  out  boldly  for  the  shore,  and 
having  been  Heaven  only  knows  how  long  in  the  water — 
to  me  it  seemed  an  age — I  got  into  the  wash  of  the  break- 
ers, and  after  receiving  several  blows  I  secured  a  footing, 
and  scrambled  up  above  the  break  of  the  waves." 

Here  one  would  think  his  story  ought  to  have  ended, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  poor  lieutenant  was  now  as 
badly  off  as  ever.  "As  I  lay  panting,  breathless,  and 
nearly  insensible,  the  words  '  Save  me,  save  me;  I  am  sink- 


ing,' appeared  to  rise  with  the  spray  that  flew  over  me." 
At  first  he  thought  it  was  fancy,  but  on  hearing  the  cry 
repeated  he  aroused  himself,  and  beheld  a  man  struggling 
to  reach  the  shore.  "  Never  shall  I  forget  the  sensation 
of  that  moment ;  I  could  not  stir  a  finger  to  save  him.  At 
this  crisis  the  oar  that  had  saved  my  own  life  floated  with- 
in reach  of  his  hand."  He  saw  it.  grasped  it,  lost  it.  was 
suept  away,  and  again  returned,  and  eventually  clung  to 
the  shore.  Presently  he  rose,  scrambled  up  slowly  to  his 
commander's  side,  embraced  him.  and  murmured.  "  They 
are  all  drowned,  sir." 

It  must  have  been  a  most  pathetic  meeting. 

After  a  time  they  recovered  themselves  a  little,  and   b\ 
means  of  stamping  and  swinging  their  arms  persuaded 
the  blood  to  flow  through  their  chilled  veins.      Then  they 
strove  to  climb  the  cliff.      By  helping  each  other  they  at 
tained    some    thirty    feet,  when    suddenly    the   lieutenant 
found  himself  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice.     A  chasm  y:i  wn 
ed  beneath  him,  through  which  the  sea  was  dashing  vio- 
lently.     "  We  were  not  on  the  mainland,  but  only  on   a 
rock !" 

It  is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  distress  of  mind  of 
the  two  castaways  at  this  discovery.  Even  the  lieuten- 
ant, who  was  by  far  more  vigorous  and  hopeful  than  his 
companion,  was  utterly  cast. down  by  it.  He  staid  upon 
the  edge  of  the  precipice,  just  to  make  sure  that  there  was 
no  hope  of  escape  save  through  that  foaming  channel 
with  the  steep  rocks  beyond  it,  and  then  "descended  to 
the  nearest  ledge  in  dee))  despondency." 

His  shirt  "clung  with  icy  coldness"  to  his  body,  and 
his  shivering  frame  warned  him  of  his  fast-failing  strength. 
Though  to  attempt  to  cross  Hie" chasm  was  almost  certain 
death,  lie  preferred  that  risk  to  perishing  by  inches.  His 
companion,  011  the  other  hand,  the  type  of  quite  another 
class,  shrank  from  the  more  immediate  peril,  talked"of 
"the  consolation  of  dying  together,"  and  clinging  to  the 
lieutenant  besought  him  in  the  most  moving  terms  not 
to  leave  him.  In  order  to  escape  his  grasp,  our  lieutenant 
had  to  feign  to  look  for  a  more  sheltered  place,  and  then 
descended  to  the  edge  of  the  channel. 

"The  distance  was  not  very  great,  but  the  water  was 
one  sheet  of  foam,  edged  by  the  long  black  sea-weed  that 
adhered  to  the  rocks,  except  where  a  heavy  black  sea  roll- 
ed through  the  passage,  drove  the  one  before  it,  and  flow- 
ed over  the  other.  An  apparently  perpendicular  cliff 
hung  over  the  whole."  It  was  hard  to  imagine  a  more 
terrible  and  hopeless  position  ;  nevertheless,  reflecting  .that 
not  only  his  own  life  but  that  of  his  wretched  compan- 
ion depended  upon  his  making  the  venture,  our  lieu- 
tenant. Watching  "a  smooth"  (i.e.,  when  the  foam  was 
less  furiousi.  and  committing  his  spirit  to  God,  plunged 
into  the  gulf.  A  few  strokes  brought  him  to  the  other 
side,  but  it  afforded  no  footing  and,  save  for  the  sea-weed, 
]  no  hold.  "Again  and  again  did  I  seize  the  pendent  slip- 
j  pery  weeds,  and  as  often  did  the  drawback  of  the  sea,  as- 
sisted by  my  own  dead  weight,  drag  me  with  a  giant's 
force,  and  rolling  down  the  face  of  the  rock,  I  sank  sever- 
al feet  under  water." 

It  was  no  wonder  if  this  time,  with  the  sea  whizzing 
in  his  ears  and  rattling  in  his  throat,  he  thought  that  his 
last  moment  had  arrived.  He  rose,  however,  once  more 
to  the  surface,  dug  his  nails  into  the  rock,  clung'  to  the 
sea-weed  with  his  teeth,  and  was  torn  from  his  hold  by  a 
tremendous  sea,  which  cast  him  up  many  feet.  In  de- 
scending, he  caught  a  projecting  point  above  the  weeds, 
"and  at  the  same  instant-  my  leg  was  thrown  over  anoth- 
er; the  sea  left  me,  and,  gasping  for  life,  I  hung  over  the 
abyss  once  more.  Successive  seas  followed,  but  only  lash- 
ed the  rocks  beneath  nie,  as  if  enraged  at  having  lost  their 
prey.  .  .  .  The  dread  of  being  forced  away  caused  me  to 
make  an  almost  superhuman  effort.  I  gained  a  footing, 
climbed  upward  till  even  the  spray  fell  short  of  me.  God 
be  praised,  I  was  safe !" 


536 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


voi.riiE  iv. 


"I    SA\\     OS     IT-    BLACK     nlTI.INK    A    IIANH    i  I.I  TrUIXli    AT    THE    CLOUDS 


Having  a-ccnded  some  forty  feet.  he  stopped  to  take 
breath,  and  between  tlic  roar  of  tlir  breakers  distinctly 
heard  the  I'rantie  shrieks  ol'  hi-  companion  imploring  him 
for  tin-  love  of  ( loci  not  to  Leave  him.  In  vain  the  lieu- 
tenant endeavored  to  roinfort  him  liy  (lie  assurance  that 
if  lie  succeeded  in  reaching  the  chtl'top  lie  \\otild  -end 
bin;  help.  lie  could  not  make  liim-elf  heard,  and  indeed 
needed  all  his  breath  for  what  lay  hel'ore  him. 

lie  nou  began  to  a-eeml  the  almost  per]inidieiilar  face 
of  the  cliff,  "now  with  tolerahle  ease.  now  hanuing  with 
searee  a  foot  hold  over  the  pitch  -black  ocean,"  until  the 

man  were  lost,  and  the  roar  of  the  ocean  itself 

•w  a-  hut  faint  I  v  heai-cl.  Suddenly  lie  "  heheld  the  heavens 
all  round  him.  and  fell  rapidly,  head -foremost."  lie  knew 
not  where. 

I  le  thought  lie  had  fallen  into  the  sea.  hut  he  had  • 
toppled  over  the  el  ill'  on  the  landward  side,  a  fall  of  only 
a  few  feet,  hut  which  had  heen  stillieient  under  the  cir- 
cumstances to  deprive  the  poor  lieutenant  of  his  sense.-.. 
When  they  returned  to  him  he  found  himself  in  a  fur/.e- 
liti-li.  almost  fro/en  to  death.  I'nahle  to  move  his  limhs. 
he  contrived  t,i  roll  out  of  it,  which  caused  his  hlooil  to 
circulate,  and  made  him  conscious  of  that  inten>e  pain 
which  "none  hut  those  who  have  been  frost-bitten  can 
have  any  idea  of."  At  length,  however,  he  felt  the  prick- 
les left  hy  me  furze-bush,  aiid  "could  with  truth  allirm 
that  that  was  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life 

He  presently  came  upon  the  track  of  cart-wheels,  and. 

after  a  narrow  escape  from   hem";  shot  as  a  burglar,  made 

bis  way  to  a   farm  hou-e.  where  every  attention  \\a-  paid 

m        Min    were   dispatched  to  the  cliffs  to  exhibit 

lights  all  night  to  keep  up  his  companion's  spirits.     In  the 

morning  a    boat   was  dispatched,  when  he  was  found  half 
After  three  days'  n  u  i-si  ng.  however,  he  recovered, 
i  inly  one  relic  of  the  ill-fated  boat  was  ever  discovered — 
its  mast,  Moating-  on   cm/,  with  a  corpse  tied  by  the  hand 
to  it  :      Such  a  night's  adventure  as  that  which  fell  to  the 
lot    of    Our    brave    lieutenant     has    prohahh  i        .     - 

ami    I   think   it  wil  d    ihal    as  a    Qarrator  of  such 

ithout  a  rival. 


AND  THKIU  MANACKMKXT. 

I1,1.   -HLKWooii  i;-i  si:. 

NrQ  animal  deserves  bet  lev  treatment,  or  cnjov  s  it   more 
\\hen  given,  than  the  dog.       Like  a  human   being,  he 
should  be  u  idl  liou-ed.  u  ell  clothed,  well  fed.  and  when  be 
is  sic-k    luhicli    will    be   rarely   if   the   other  conditions  are 
observed',  he  must  be  well  doctored. 

Fir-!,  as  to  his  house.  A-  a  general  rule  dog-  should 
not  be  kept  ill  a  dwelling  house,  -nice,  a.-  the\  do  not  wear 

its,  the\  alv  liable  to  lake  cold  when  tbe\  go  out. 
A  ^niall  dog  may  be  kept  in  a  stable  or  other  out  house: 
but  a  large  dog  enjo\  -  a  hoii-e  of  his  own.  This  should 
be  oblong  in  shape,  with  a  peak.'d  roof  at  least  eight  inch 
her  than  the  dog.  and  U  should  be  u  hat  most  people 
would  call  too  larje  for  t  he  dog.  This  will  give  him  room 
to  turn  round,  anil  when  a  driving  rain  or  wind  comes. 
he  will  be  able  to  get  away  back  out  of  it-  reach.  For  the 
same  rea-on.  the  entrance  should  not  be  in  the  end  of  the 
kennel,  but  on  one  side,  and  near  the  end.  s(1  that  he  will 
be  the  less  exposed  to  the  weal  her. 

The  best   kind  of  bedding  is  straw  or  \ellow  pine  shav- 
-awdust    and  hay  arc   t lustyi.  and    it    should    be 

d    once  a   ueek.  and  the   floor  \\ell    brushed  \silh   a 
still'  broom.       Ne\v  bedding  should  alwa\s  be  dry.  or  the 
do-    \\ill     be    liable   to   get    rheumatism.       A    strip  of    \\ooil 
about  three  inches  high  is  generally  nailed  across  the  hoi 
lorn  of  the  opening,  so  that  the  dog  shall  not  drag  hi-  bed 

ith   him   v.  believer  he  come-  out.       In  order  to  keep 

the   kennel  dry  both  above  and  below,  it  si Id   I"'  raised 

two  inches  above  I  he  'j  round,  and  the  roof  should   be  cov- 
ered  \\itli  canvas  \\ell  coated  outside  with  tar. 

No  dog  should  require  any  other  coat  than  that  with 
which  nature  has,  provided  bun.  but  it  is  his  ou  ncr's  d  u  I  \ 
to  keep  Ihal  coat  in  good  condition.  In-door  pets  of  (In- 
fancy o.-der  may  he  washed  as  often  as  their  doting  mis 
tre-ses  may  choose,  and  dogs  that  ha\  e  frequent  s\\  ims  in 
clear  running  water,  and  plenty  of  exercise,  may  go  with- 
out their  "tubbing"  the  whole  summer  long.  lint  as  a 
rule  a  mid  be  wa-hed  once  a  month,  and  a  warm 


JI'XK  -'••.  1883. 


IIAKI'KU'S  YOUNG   PEOPLE. 


537 


538 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


bath,  with  plenty  of  soap  and  a  thorough  rinsing  with 
clean  water  afterward,  ending  with  a  drenching  with 
cold  water  (to  keep  him  from  taking  cold),  is  the  proper 
treatment. 

As  the  dog  strongly  objects  to  this  process,  and  especial- 
ly to  having  his  head  washed — in  which,  perhaps,  he  will 
be  like  his  master — it  is  well  to  tie  him,  unless  you  want 
a  chase,  and  to  begin  with  his  head  before  you  get  him  wet 
all  over;  a  struggling  wet  mass  of  hair  is  not  a  comfort- 
able thing  to  handle.  After  washing  him.  rub  him  well 
with  a  rough  towel,  and  then  put  him  in  a  clean  place  to 
dry.  Of  course  he  must  have  a  perfectly  clean  bed  to  go 
to  on  "  tub"  night. 

If  a  dog  is  regularly  and  well  washed,  brushed,  and 
combed,  and  his  house  kept  clean,  he  ought  not  to  suffer 
from  vermin;  but  it  is  an  easy  thing  for  him  to  catch 
fleas  from  other  dogs.  When  this  is  the  case,  he  must  be 
treated  with  oil,  well  rubbed  in,  from  the  tip  of  his  nose  to 
the  end  of  his  tail.  After  a  few  hours  the  oil  may  be 
washed  off.  Fleas  like  dog,  but  they  can  not  bear  an  oily 
dog.  Sometimes  (and  generally  through  neglect)  a  worse 
trouble  fastens  upon  a  dog,  and  causes  him  much  annoy- 
ance. This  is  known  as  lice.  A  good  and  safe  treatment 
is  a  thorough  rubbing  as  before  with  petroleum.  It  is 
not  poisonous  to  the  skin,  but  it  is  as  well  to  muzzle  the 
clog  while  the  oil  is  upon  him.  or  he  will  lick  a  good  deal 
of  it  off. 

Finally,  whenever  a  dog  has  been  treated  for  vermin, 
the  kennel  should  be  well  washed  inside  with  hot  lime. 
In  fact,  such  washing  should  be  done  every  six  months, 
on  a  warm,  dry  day,  in  any  case. 

Most  dogs  are  fed  too  much.  Either  they  should  be 
fed  at  table  or  at  their  own  kennel,  but  not  at  both  places. 
A  meal  once  a  day  is  sufficient,  and  then  the  animal 
should  be  allowed  as  much  as  he  wants.  Very  little  incut 
need  be  given;  indeed,  for  a  dog  that  lias  but  little  exer- 
cise and  no  work,  only  about  one-tenth  of  his  food  should 
be  meat.  The  rest  may  be  bread,  potatoes,  and  cooked 
green  food  from  the  table  scraps.  All  these  things  he  will 
eat  if  mixed  with  gravy  or  pot  broth  and  such  meat  as  lie 
is  allowed.  Bones,  of  course,  are  a  standard  dish  in  the 
kennel,  and  they  are  principally  useful  because  they  make 
the  teeth  strong  and  clean.  Do  not  be  stingy  with  drink- 
ing-water for  your  friend.  Let  it  be  always  clean,  and 
freshly  drawn  from  the  pump  or  well,  and  in  warm  wea- 
ther see  that  it  is  frequently  changed.  A  small  lump  of 
sulphur  in  his  water  once  a  week  or  so  will  help  to  keep 
him  in  good  health. 

However  otherwise  well  cared  for,  no  dog  will  be 
healthy  if  always  kept  in-doors,  or  always  chained  up. 
He  requires  plenty  of  exercise.  Indeed,  except  in  the  case 
of  hunting-dogs,  it  is  difficult  to  allow  him  too  much. 
Chaining  is  a  good  thing,  especially  at  night,  and  it  should 
be  remembered  that  to  unchain  him  is  a  kindness  which  a 
dog  will  remember.  When  you  have  a  new  dog,  there- 
fore, always  take  care  to  be  the  only  one  to  unchain  him 
until  he  becomes  greatly  attached  to  you. 

Dogs  have  been  companions  of  man  for  so  many  gen- 
erations that  their  natural  instinct  is  ill  most  cases  to  do 
right  ;  and  where  they  do  wrong,  it  is  generally  owing 
either  to  the  carelessness  or  bad  example  of  their  masters. 
Many  a  dog  has  been  turned  into  a  fighting  or  cat-worry- 
ing animal  through  thoughtless  encouragement  oil  the 
part  of  its  owner. 

There  are  many  other  things  to  be  learned  about  the 
care  of  dogs,  and  an  observant  owner  of  a  dog  that  he 
cares  for  will  gradually  pick  up  much  knowledge  by 
"comparing  notes"  with  his  dog-loving  friends.  If  your 
dog  becomes  really  sick  in  spite  of  your  care  (and  by 
"care'1  we  do  not  mean  pampering),  the  best  way  is  to 
write  to  one  of  the  agricultural  or  sporting  papers,  de- 
scribing the  symptoms  as  clearly  as  you  can.  If  it  is  one 
of  the  lirst-class  papers,  you  will  probably  be  answered  in 


the  next  number  by  an  experienced  veterinary  surgeon. 
If,  however,  your  dog  is  suffering,  or  is  in  danger,  and 
you  can  not  wait  a  week,  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  take 
him  to  the  veterinary  surgeon,  and  let  him  treat  the  dog. 
A  good  dog  is  a  friend  that  is  worth  a  great  deal  of  trou- 
ble and  expense. 

IN  THE  HEART  OP  HUMPBACK  HILL. 

JIM  was  fifteen.  Sam  was  twelve,  Johnny  was  nine,  and 
then  came  the  twin  babies,  who  were  not  of  any  age  to 
speak  of.  Their  father  was  a  miner  who  had  come  from 
England  to  the  mining  region  of  Western  Pennsylvania, 
having  heard  that  work  was  plenty  and  living  easy  in  the 
new  country.  He  had  been  killed  by  an  accident  in  a  mine 
only  three  months  after  his  arrival,  and  his  family  were 
left  to  tight  their  way  alone  in  the  world.  Jim  worked  in 
the  mines  now,  but  he  was  not  large  or  strong  for  his  age, 
and  his  wages  were  small,  and  there  was  not  always  bread 
enough  to  go  round,  to  say  nothing  of  butter. 

People  were  kind  to  them,  especially  the  members  of  the 
Iron  Company,  in  whose  employ  their  father  had  been; 
but  times  were  hard,  and  there  were  many  poor  families 
to  be  helped,  and  lately  there  had  been  a  great  robbery, 
by  which  the  Iron  Company  had  lost  many  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  they  did  not  feel  that  they  could  afford  to  give 
away  as  much  as  they  had  done. 

Sam  carried  Jim's  dinner  to  the  mine  whenever  there 
was  anything  better  for  dinner  than  a  piece  of  bread. 
One  day  their  nearest  neighbors,  who  were  as  poor  as  they 
except  for  the  possession  of  a  pig,  which  they  had  convert- 
ed into  roasts  and  fries  and  sausages,  sent  them,  as  a  pre- 
sent, a  fine  roast.  Not  one  of  them  would  have  cared  to 
eat  such  a  fine  dinner  as  that  unless  Jim  could  have  some 
too.  Sam  had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  cut  his  foot  ui 
chopping  wood  that  morning,  so  that  he  could  not  take  a 
step,  but  Johnny  declared  that  he  could  carry  Jim's  dinner 
just  as  well  as  Sam. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  reason  why  he  couldn't,  except 
that  he  was  such  a  little  fellow,  not  larger  than  most  boys 
of  seven,  and  the  mine  011  Humpback  Hill  was  a  good 
ways  off  from  where  they  lived. 

His  mother  cautioned  him  a  great  many  times  not  to 
wander  out  of  the  path,  and  she  followed  him  to  the  door, 
and  called  after  him  to  be  sure  to  go  into  the  right  mine, 
because  some  of  the  old  ones  were  very  dangerous,  espe- 
cially the  old  Conoshawen  Mine,  which  was  very  near  the 
one  in  which  Jim  worked. 

.Johnny  was  somewhat  impatient  of  her  warnings.     He 

had  been  up  to  Jim's  mine  two  or  three  times  with  Sam, 

and  he  rather  thought  he  could  tell  which  one  it  was,  even 

if  the  queer  little  square  openings  did  look  just  alike.      It 

was  the  third — no,  the  fourth — at  the  left  hand,  as  one 

stepped  upon  the  little  table-land,  half-way  up  Humpback 

Hill,  where  was  the  semicircle  of  tunnel-like  mines,  ex- 

j  tending  not  down  into  the  ground,  like  the  mines  Johnny 

•  remembered   in   England,  but  straight  into  the   heart  of 

the  hill. 

But  was  it  not,  after  all,  the  fifth  opening  ?  John- 
ny was  conscious  of  a  little  confusion  in  his  mind  upon 
that  point  as  he  struggled  up  the  hill,  and  wished  lie  had 
asked  Sam;  but  he  should  be  sure  to  know  it  when  he 
saw  it.  And  there  were  almost  always  miners  about  the 
openings,  or  men  bringing  the  ore  out  in  drays  drawn  by 
queer  little  donkeys  that  kept  their  eyes  blinking  when 
they  came  into  the  light,  as  if  they  never  could  gee  used 
to  it.  There  was  no  need  of  making  a  mistake  about  the 
mines,  Johnny  thought.  He  did  wish  his  mother  would 
get  over  thinking  he  was  such  a  little  fellow,  and  worry- 
ing about  him  if  he  wasn't  tied  to  her  apron  string! 

When  he  reached  the  mines  there  was  nobody  in  siu'ht. 
He  peered  into  the  openings  of  four  or  five,  and  could  not 
see  so  much  as  a  twinkling  light  in  the  distance.  And 


Jl'XE  -JC,,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


539 


lie  had  forgotten  whether  Jim's  mine  was  the  third,  or  the 
fourth,  or  the  fifth. 

He  was  wondering  what  he  should  do  when  there  sud- 
denly appeared  out  of  one  of  tin-  distant  mines  ail  Irish- 
man with  a  dray  full  of  ore  and  a  blinking-  donkey. 

"  I  say.  mister,  which  mine  is  it  that  my  brother  Jim — 
Jim  Pringle — works  in  :"  called  Johnny. 

The  Irish  man.  who  was  busily  engaged  in  filling  his  pipe, 
nodded  carelessly  in  the  direction  of  the  opening  al  John 
ny's  left  hand.  It  was  tile  fourth  mine. 

"That's  the  one  1  thought,  but  I  wasn't  quite  sure," 
said  Johnny,  and  ran  into  it.  fastening  the  little  miner's 
lamp  which  his  mother  had  given  him  into  his  cap.  and 
hoping  that  .lim's  good  dinner  would  not  get  cold  before 
lie  found  him. 

l!efore  he  had  gone  so  far  into  the  mine  that  daylight 
refused  to  follow  him  the  atmosphere  became  warm  and 
oppressive,  like  that  of  a  hot  house.  The  walls  were  drip 
ping  with  water,  and  if  be  had  not  walked  upon  the  rails 
which  were  made  for  the-  drays  to  run  upon,  he  \\oiild 
have  had  to  walk  in  mud  and  water  over  his  shoes. 

"It  wasn't  so  wet  the  last,  time  1  was  here."  said 
Johnny  to  himself. 

On  and  on  he  went.  Jim's  dinner  would  surely  In- 
cold  before  lie  got  it. 

"Surely  it  wasn't  so  far  to  go  tbe  last  lime  I  uasbere." 
he  thought.  "  It  doesn't  seem  as  if  Humpback  Hill  could 
be  so  thick  through  as  this.  This  seems  like  a  tunnel  go 
ing  under  the  whole  world,  without  any  end." 

Could  he  be  wrong.'  Hut  no.  the  man  would  have 
been  sure  to  know,  and  lie  thought  be  remembered  that  il 
was  the  fourth  opening.  He  wasn't  exactly  afraid,  but  it 
did  make  him  a  little  nervous  to  think  that  he  was  under 
the  ground.  The  roof  was  supported  only  by  wooden 
beams:  it  seemed  very  easy  for  the  tons  upon  tons  of  earth 
above  his  head  to  fall  and  bury  him.  He  wished  Jim 
didn't  have  to  work  in  a  mine.  Suddenly  the  feeble  Hick 
Bring  rays  of  his  lamp  were  cast  upon  a  solid  wall  of  earth 
ill  front  of  him.  He  glanced  upward.  One  of  the  wood- 
en beams  had  given  wav. 

Johnny's  heart  beat  like  a  trip-hammer,  and  he  gre^i 
sick  and  faint.  There  had  been  an  accident.  How  much 
of  one  it,  was  impossible  to  tell.  Perhaps  the  whole  mine 
be\ond  that  point  had  caved  in. 

Where  was  Jim  ; 

Johnny  uttered  a  piercing  cry — ''Jim  !  Jim  !" — that  the 
echoes  brought  back  to  him,  but  nobody  answered. 

After  a  minute  or  two,  growing  a  little  calmer,  he  ex- 
amined the  wall  of  earth  carefully,  and  saw  that  at  the 
to])  in  one-  corner  there  was  a  large  chink.  He  climbed 
up  carefully  and  peeped  through.  Then-  was  an  open 
space  on  the  other  side,  and  the-  chink  was  large  enough 
for  him  to  crawl  through.  For  the  first  time  Johnny  was 
thankful  that  he  was  a  little  fellow.  Jim  might  be  suf- 
fering, dying,  on  the  other  side,  and  because  he  was  small 
he  could  get  to  him. 

Tbe  chink  was  a  very  close  fit.  It  almost  squeezed  the 
breath  out  of  Johnny's  body.  And  in  spite  of  all  his  care, 
when  he  did  get  through,  he  fell  head-foremost  into  a  pool 
of  water  on  the  other  side.  In  utter  darkness — for  the 
water  had  extinguished  his  lamp — he  picked  himself  up, 
and  felt  in  his  pocket  for  the  matches  which  his  mother 
had  put  there.  He  had  a  terrible  fear  that  he  might  find 
them  soaked  with  water;  but  no,  they  were  happily  safe 
and  dry,  and  in  a  moment  the  cheerful  little  flame  of  his 
lamp  lighted  up  the  darkness. 

The  tunnel  was  all  open  beyond  him.  Nothing  seem- 
ed to  have  fallen  except  in  this  place  where  the  earth 
formed  a  partition.  It  was  so  straight  and  even  on  this 
side  that  it  looked  as  if  it  must  have  been  made  with 
hands. 

It  struck  Johnny  as  being  somewhat  singular.  But  as 
he  looked  closely  at  the  beams,  he  saw  that  they  were  all 


old  and  decaying;  they  looked  as  if  they  might  give  way 
at  any  minute. 

He  must  have  wandered  into  one  of  the  old  mines;  per- 
haps the  very  one  in  which  his  father  had  been  killed, 
thought  Johnny,  with  a  thrill  of  fear. 

But  that  could  not  be,  because  there  were  tracks  all 
about;  there  were  a  great  many  in  the  mud  near  the  wall. 
As  Johnny  looked  about  him  in  wonder,  trying  to  tind 
some  explanation  of  the  mystery,  he  suddenly  caught  sight 
of  something  which  looked  out  of  place  in  a  mine.  It 
was  a  seal  skin  coat,  and  it  seemed  to  be  thrown  over 
a  heap  of  something  on  dry  ground  near  the  wall.  John 
ny  lifted  it.  and  disclosed  a  heap  of  tools,  small  and  large. 
Very  queer  looking  tools  they  were,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  a  ring  of  skeleton  keys  among  them  Johnny  might  not 
ha\e  guessed  at  once,  as  lie  did,  that  they  were  burglars' 
tools.  There  was  a  tin  box  too,  which  he  tried  to  open, 
but  found  it  securely  locked.  He  remembered  that  when 
the  burglars  stole  the  money  and  valuable  papers  from 
the  Iron  Company's  otlice  they  had  also  stolen  a  seal-skill 
COal  belonging  to  Mr.  Bingliam.  the  superintendent. 

He  hail  stumbled  upon  the  hiding-place  of  the  burglars' 
stolen  treasures.  It  u-itx  one  of  the  old  mines,  probably 
the  Conoshawen,  the  most  dangerous,  where  they  thought 
nobody  would  dai-e  to  come.  All  the  stolen  money  might 
be  in  that  tin  box. 

Tin-  blood  went  dancing'  through  Johnnys  veins,  and 
his  heart  beat  so  loud  that  he  could  almost  hear  it. 

Keen  detectives  had  been  for  a  long  time  in  pursuit  of 
those  burglars  and  the  stolen  properly,  and  had  not  found 
a  clew.  It  had  been  left  for  him.  little  nine-year-old 
Johnny  Pringle.  whom  nobody  thought  good  for  much  of 
anything,  and  whom  the  doctor  called  Hop  o'-my-thumb. 
And  the  reward  offered  was  a  thousand  dollars! 

Johnny  scrambled  back  through  the  chink  faster  than 
he  had  come,  lie  wanted  to  take  that  tin  box  with  him, 
but  it  was  too  large.  It  is  doubtful  whether  a  boy  ever  ran 
faster  since  the  world  began  than  Johnny  ran  out  of  that, 
mine.  He  couldn't  spend  time  to  walk  on  the  rails  now  ; 
he  w  I'lit  splashing  through  the  mud  and  water,  falling  now 
and  then,  and  picking  himself  up  without  stopping  to 
think  whether  he  was  hurt  or  not. 

But  at  last  he  found  himself  in  the  open  air,  all  safe 
and  sound.  The  pail  with  Jim's  dinner  in  it  was  still 
hanging  on  his  arm.  but  he  couldn't  stop  to  attend  to  that. 

lie  ran  down  Humpback  Hill,  across  three  fields  where 
the  snow-drifts  reached  to  his  waist,  then  down  the  rail- 
road track  to  the  village,  and  burst  into  the  Iron  Company's 
ollice  with  only  enough  breath  left  to  gasp  out, 

"Burglars'  tools ! — seal-skin  coat ! — tin  box  !  —old  mine !" 
But  you  may  be  sure  it  did  not  take  the  gentlemen  in  the 
otlice  long  to  put  those  detached  remarks  together,  and  an 
expedition  was  instantly  formed,  with  Johnny  as  guide, 
to  the  old  mine. 

In  the  tin  box  they  found  intact  all  the  money  and  pa- 
pers that  had  been  stolen  from  the  Iron  Company.  And 
a  watch  was  set,  and  the  very  next  night  the  burglars 
were  caught  in  the  mine. 

Johnny  was  the  hero  of  the  hour,  and  what  was  of  much 
more  account,  he  received  the  thousand  dollars'  reward. 

Jim  said  it  was  the  first  time  he  ever  knew  it  to  be  lucky 
for  a  fellow  not  to  get  his  dinner. 

But  in  spite  of  the  thousand  dollars — which,  indeed,  she 
wasn't  quite  able  to  believe  in  all  at  once — Johnny's  mo- 
ther couldn't  quite  get  over  being  nervous  because  Johnny 
had  been  in  that  dreadful  old  Conoshawen  mine,  where 
everybody  said  the  least  jar  was  likely  to  bring  disaster. 
She  hugged  and  kissed  him,  and  cried  over  him,  and  felt 
of  his  limbs  to  be  sure  they  were  sound,  and  even  in  the 
night  she  kept  going  into  his  room  to  be  sure  that  he  was 
safe  under  the  bedclothes. 

Jim  doesn't  work  in  the  mines  now  ;  they  bought  a,  little 
farm  with  the  thousand  dollars,  and  live  "in  clover." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HOW  THE  OWLS  WENT  TO 

SINGING-SCHOOL, 
AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT. 

BY  ALLAN  FORMAX. 

OOH !  pooh  !  nonsense !  I 
won't  do  it !  To  singing- 
school,  indeed!  Pooh! 
pooh !"  and  old  Judge 
Owl  straightened  himself 
up  on  the  limb  of  the  ap- 
ple-tree and  looked  very 
wise  indeed. 

"But,  my  dear — "mur- 
mured Mrs.  Owl,  plead- 
ingly. 

"Won't  hear  of  it — 
won't  hear  of  it.  Pooh ! 
pooh !  Singing  -  scln "  >1 ! 
pooh!  Why.  the  chil- 
dren can  sing  well  enoi  i  ^1 1 
now ;  and  to  go  to  that 
impudent  Cat-bird,  too! 

Pooh!  pooh!  And  four  cherries  a  lesson— perfectly  out- 
rageous! Where  am  I  to  get  the  cherries,  I  should  like 
to  know  '.  If  she  would  take  her  pay  in  mice,  or  even  in 
young  cat-birds,  it  would  be  another  thing.  But  cherries ! 
I  would  look  pretty,  at  my  time  of  life,  picking  cherries. 
Pooh  !  pooh !"  said  Judge  Owl,  contemptuously. 
"  But.  my  dear — "  said  his  wife  again. 
"There's  no  use  of  talking;  I  won't  hear  of  it."  inter- 
rupted the  Judge,  crossly.  "I  haven't  time  to  talk  to  you 
about  it.  I  must  go  over  to  Farmer  Jones's  chicken  yard 
and  get  something  for  dinner ;"  and  with  a  parting ' '  pooh !" 
the  Judge  was  off  for  the  chicken  yard. 


:  pa§u 


'  •     •• 


- 

-.   .j*"^-* 


, 


Mrs.  Owl  sat  silent  on  the  branch  for  a  few  moments; 
then  she  flew  swiftly  through  the  wood,  swooping-  sudden- 
ly mi  her  way  to  pick  up  an  unlucky  little  rabbit,  which 
paid  the  penalty  for  staying  out  late  at  night.  When  she 
arrived  at  her  home,  which  w.-is  high  up  in  the  hollow 
branch  of  an  old  oak,  she  perched  just  above  the  hole,  and 
called.  "Maud!  Augustus!"  For.  you  see.  Judge  Owl 
having  made  a  large  fortune  speculating  in  chickens, 
she  was  ashamed  to  call  her  children  by  the  good  old 
names  which  had  been  in  the  Owl  family  for  years.  The 
Judge  did  not  like  it  very  much,  for  he  wanted  the  boy 
to  be  named  Hout.  .-it'tcr  him  :  but  in  this  case  his  wife  had 
managed  to  get  the  best  of  him.  "How  will  it  look-  on 
his  visiting-cards;"  she  had  asked  her  husband.  "Hoot 
Owl.  Jim.  I  It's  horrid!" 


,  ' 


"You  didn't  seem  to  think  so  when  you  married  me, 
and  used  to  call  me  Hooty  and  Hootsy-tootsy, ''  grumbled 
her  husband. 

"But,  my  dear,  times  have  changed  since  we  were 
young,  and  it  would  be  hardly  fail1  to  make  our  little  ones 
unhappy  through  life  with  such  horrid  old-fashioned 
names."'  So  she  called  them  Maud  and  Augustus,  after 
two  young  lovers  whom  she  had  seen  walking  in  the 
wood  one  evening. 

"Maud,  Augustus,  come  here,"  called  Mamma  Owl 
again.  "Yes,  mamma,"  squeaked  two  very  small  voices, 
and  then  followed  a  scratching  and  fluttering  in  the  hole, 
and  every  now  and  then  a  sharp  hiss,  and  one  would 
squeak,  "  Gus,  stop  pushing  me;  I'll  tell  mamma,"  and 
Gus  would  hiss  in  answer,  "I  don't  care;  you  began  it." 

Mamma  fed  the  young  ones,  and  had  just  finished  when 
Judge  Owl  came  flying  heavily  but  noiselessly,  bearing  a 
fine  spring  chicken  in  his  claws. 

"Have  you  had  enough  ?''he  inquired  :  then  added.  "I'll 
leave  this,  anyway.  I'm  going  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the 
Antiquarian  Association.  Good-night." 

"Oh,  papa,  can  we  go  to  singing-school?"  asked  both 
little  ones  at  once. 

Now  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  owls,  being  on  a  low- 
er scale  in  the  order  of  nature  than  man,  are  influenced  to 
a  certain  extent  by  the  feeling  of  their  stomachs;  they  are 


S  =, 


2f,.  1S83. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


541 


\Y;iit  til!  I  can  do  as 


a]d  IK  be  cross  and  irritable  when  hungry,  and  good-na- 
tured after  dinner.  Judge  (  h\  1  had  just  linished  a  tine 
young  chicken  at  Farmer  Jones's  yard,  and  a  nest  of 
y-ounir  robins  ill  the  orchard,  so  lie  felt  contented  and 
happj . 

"\Vell.  yes,  1  guess  so,  it'  you  want  to.  (Hd  Screech 
Owl  was  telling  me  tin-  other  day  that  his  daughter  want- 
ed some  scholars,  and — 

••  | ;M t  we  wani  in  go  to  Miss  ( 'at  bird,"  piped  the  3  oung 

ones  in  cnin-ert. 

••  Well,  you  can't,  and  there's  the  end  of  thai.  To  Miss 
Cat  bird!  1 'onh  !  impudent  thing!  1'ooh  '."  and  the. Incite 
Hew  oil',  in  DO  \  cry  <rood  humor. 

••Oh.nia,  I  knew  it  would  be  so'."  snarled  Maud, 
is  just  as  mean  as  lie  can  be." 

"The  o-uv'nor  is  cross  to  night. 

T  choose.     [ -won't  ask  him  to  let  me  go.     I'll  go  if  1  want 

to."  grow  led  (  ;  us. 

Now.  as  you  can  see.  neither  of  the  (  )\\  I  ehildi-eii   had 
been  well  brought  up:  they  were  not   respectful,  and  they 
had     bad     tempers.        The 
bad  temper  was  inherited, 
however,    and     the     disre- 
spect   was   not    rebuked   by 
then'     mother,    who     said, 

"I'll  see  if  I  can't  arrange 
it.  Your  father  has  gone 
away  for  a  few  days,  and 
in  the  mean  time  yon  can 
take-  two  or  t  hree  lessons 
from  Missl  'at  bird.  I'll  go 
and  make  arrangements, 
and  you  must  slay  very 
quiet  while  I  am  gone." 
So  Mamma  (  >wl  Hew  oil', 
and  the  young  ones  slid 
down  into  the  nest  again. 

The  morning  came,  and 
Maud  and  Augustus,  with 
Mrs.  (  hvl.  set  out,  for  Miss 
i  '..I  bird's.  At  last  they 
reaclied  the  nest,  and  Miss 
Cat  bird  proceeded  to  give 
the  lesson,  but  the  young- 
sters wen-  so  stupid,  and 
there  was  so  much  to 
learn,  and  the  sun  rose  so 
fast,  that  before  the  lesson 
was  linished  it  was  so  light 
that  Mrs.  Owl  began  to 
fear  i  hat  she  would  not  be 
able  to  get  Maud  and  Au- 
gustus home  again.  Then 
the  smaller  birds  found 
them  out.  and  the  old  rob- 
in whose  nest  Judge  Owl 
had  robbed  the  evening 
before  accused  them  of 
bavin  gent  en  her  children. 
The  robins  and  the  black- 
birds and  even  the  quiet 
little  chippies  flew  at  them 
and  pecked  them,  secure 
in  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Owl 
could  hardly  see  to  defend 
herself. 

The  noise  attracted  the 
attention  of  Farmer  Jones, 
who  exclaimed,  "There's 
the  very  old  owl  that's 
been  eating  my  chickens," 
and  he  hurried  into  the 
house  for  bis  gun,  '  'Har- 


ry."  he  shouted  to  his  son.  "tl Id  owl   that   has  been 

killing  our  chickens  is  out  in  the  hedge  with  a  couple- 
of  young  ones.  1  shall  shoot  the  old  one.  and  you  can 
catch  the  young  ones  if  you  like."  Harry  hurried  out  to 
the  hedge,  and  as  his  father  shot  the  old  owl  he  prepared 
to  catch  the  young  ones.  The  fright  of  the  shot,  and  see- 
iug  their  mother'  fall,  made  them  tumble  off  the  branch ; 
they  ran  a  few  feet  and  hid  in  the  grass,  hut  Harry  soon 
found  them,  and  put  them  in  a  cage.  He  kept  them  for 
some  time,  and  finally  gave  them  to  a  city  cousin,  who 
writes  sometimes,  and  as  the  owl  is  the  bird  of  \\isdnm, 
and  as  Harry's  cousin  has'n't  any  wisdom  to  speak  of, 
they- were  a  most  suitable  gift. 

Harry's  cousin  lets  them  sit  in  his  desk  sometimes, 
where  they  run  into  the  pigeon  holes  as  far  as  they  can, 
and  sit  watching  him  with  their  glassy  eyes,  making  vio- 
lent remonstrance-  if  he  moves  his  band  or  the  paper  on 
which  he  is  writing. — Get  out.  you  scamp!  Excuse  me, 
but  they  do  liite  so  hard,  and  just  then  one  ran  out  and 
caught  me  l,\  t  he  thumb. 


. 

-* 

:  -  -  ,  ^3 

*-  -~W.-:i  ':/*  r— : K\      .1  '' 


HOMK   KEAUTY. 

BY    AUSTIN   DOB  SON. 

IM-!  lie  a  cot,"  for  the  hours  of  )ila\, 
__   (If  the'  kiinl  that   is  limit  liv  Miss  (ireenaway, 
Where  ihr   nulls  :i i -c  low   ami  the  roofs  arc  red, 
And   the  liinls  are   tray  in  the  lilne  o'erhcad  : 
Ami   the  dear  little  tiirm-cs  in    frocks  and  frills 
(Io   roaming  alum!,  at   their  own  s\vect  wills, 
And  play   with   the  pups,  and   rr|in>vc  the  calves, 
And   do  naught   in   the  world  (Init   work)  by  halves, 
From  "Hunt,  the  Slipper"  and  " Riddle-me-ree" 
To  watt-hill'.;  the  cal    in   the  apple-tree. 

ii   An   of   ihc   Household!     Men   may  prate 

Of  their   wav-  "intense"   and    Italianatc; 

They  in.-n    soar  on   their  winL's  of  sense,  and  float 

To  the  ""  >['[<}  anil   the  dim   remote  ; 

Till  the  last,  sun   sink   in  the  last-lit  West, 

'Tis  the  Art  at   the  Door  that  will   please  the  best  ; 

To  the  end  of  Time  'twill   he  still  the  same, 

For  the  Earth  first  laughed  when  the  children  came. 


- 


•   •     , 


542 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  NAUTILUS. 
A  SAILOR  COSTUME  ron  Torn  FAVORITE  DOLL,  IN  TWO  SIZES. 


The  Postmistress  has  great  pleasure  in  calling 
the  attention  of  the  girls  to  this  beautiful  picture. 
The  pretty  little  sailor  costume  which  these  dolls 
are  wearing  is  the  height  of  fashion,  and  just  the 
thing  for  the  season.  What  fun  it  will  lie  to  try 
your  skill  at  cutting  out  the  pretty  pattern  and 
putting  it  together  neatly  !  I  expect  to  hear  re- 
ports of  success  from  a  host  of  clever  little  dress- 
makers. Although  the  pattern  is  to  be  furnished 
in  two  sizes  only,  your  mammas  will  be  quite 
willing  to  help  you  make  it  a  little  larger  or 
smaller  should  it  not  precisely  fit  your  dolls.  I 
would  advise  you  to  make  the  dress  of  a  soft 
woollen  material,  either  a  pretty  check  or  stripe, 
or  a  plain  color.  Find  a  cool  seat  on  the  veran- 
da or  the  lawn,  and  take  plenty  of  time,  for  such 
a  suit  as  this  is  worth  all  the  pains  a  little  girl 
can  take.  Now  let  me  tell  you  something  else. 

Cut  paper  patterns,  with  full  and  plain  direc- 
tions for  this  stylish  dolls'  suit,  inclosed  in  a  neat 
envelope,  will  bu  sent  by  Messrs.  Harper  &  Bro- 
thers to  any  little  girl  on  receipt  of  5  cents.  Be 
sure  and  write  your  full  name,  and  give  your 
Post-office  address  very  plainly,  when  ordering 
the  Nautilus.  .The  patterns  are  for  dolls  twelve 
inches  or  sixteen  inches  in  height,  without  the 
head.  Please  state  which  you  prefer. 


twelve  should  be.  Quick  and 
bright  at  her  studies,  her  daily 
tasks  are  soon  disposed  of.  and 
she  is  free  to  sew,  play,  and  talk 
to  her  companions  in  her  native 
tongue. 

At  Hampton  all  the  girls  un- 
taught to  sew,  and  make  their 
own  clothes  anil  uniforms  for  the 
boys.  The  boys  each  learn  one  or 
rmire  list-fill  trades  in  the  various 
shops  ei.nnectcd  with  the  school, 
and.  which  they  like  best  of  all,  are 
formed  into  a  corps,  with  a  real 
military  officer  (Captain  B.}  in 
comma'nd.  Taught  by  him,  they 
drill,  march,  and  execute  many 
pretty  manoeuvres.  They  wear 
a  neat  dark  uniform,  with  gold 
stripes  and  brass  buttons,  and 
have  officers  chosen  from  among 
themselves,  and  graded  according 
to  their  school  standard  and  gen- 
eral behavior;  these  latter  are 
greatly  respected  by  their  more 
dilatory  comrades,  and  are  a  fine- 
looking  set  of  young  fellows. 

There  is,  too,  a  well-trained  band 
composed  of  colored  boys,  who 
play  with  spirit  and  skill.  After 
three  or  four  years  at  school,  dur- 
ing which  time  their  expenses  are 
paid  by  the  government,  most  of 
the  Indians  return  to  the  West,  to 
help  civilize  their  tribes,  and  to 
teach  the  useful  arts  they  have 
learned  to  the  friends  and  com- 
panions of  their  early  childl 1 

For  the  negroes  good  situations 
are  found,  where  they  can  prac- 
t  ire  their  t  nidi's. 

If  any  of  the  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
boys  and  girls  should  visit  Hamp- 
ton, they  must  not  fail  to  ask  for 
little  Indian  Mercy,  who  reads  about  them  every 
week,  and  loves  them  all  dearly.  They  will  find 
her.  as  I  have  said,  fat  and  jolly,  with  a  sweet 
smile  and  a  gentle  word  for  every  one. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

SUMMER'S  GIFTS. 

RED  and  white  cherries. 
Beautiful  berries. 
Fragrant  roses. 
Anil  other  posies. 
Daisies  and  buttercups, 
Lilies  and  hollyhocks, 
Brier  and  vine, 
Sweet  eglantine. 
Lambs  in  the  meadow. 
Fish  in  the  brook, 
And  something  lovely 
\\  herever  you  look. 

GENEVIEVE  L.  D. 

Well,  girls  and  boys,  can  you  believe  your  eyes 
when  you  look  at  the  date  of  this  number  of 
YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  see  that  it  is  June  36?  How 
time  flies,  and  how  careful  we  should  be  to  im- 
prove it !  Now  for  our  letters.  The  first  is  f n  mi 
a  young  lady,  who  kindly  tells  us  about  the  In- 
dian school  at  Hampton. 
LITTLE  MERCY  AND  HER  COMPANIONS. 

HY    ROSALIE. 

Perhaps  some  of  the  boys  and  girls  who  read 
little  Indian  Mercy's  letter  from  Hampton  Normal 
School,  in  the  Post-office  Box  of  No.  1S3.  would 
like  to  hear  about  that  little  girl,  her  Indian  anil 
negro  companions,  anil  their  home.  Sit  nated  very 
near  Chesapeake  Bay,  well  sheltered  from  win- 
ter storms,  the  windows  of  Mercy's  home  look 
across  a  creek,  and  over  the  green  and  lovely 
Virginia  meadows  on  one  side,  and  over  the  tree- 
tops  to  the  wide  waters  of  the  Chesapeake  on 
another.  Mercy  is  an  Apache.  I  think,  and  is  as 
fat  and  jolly -looking  as  a  happy  little  girl  of 


Here  is  a  letter  for  the  little  girl  in  Young  Peo- 
ple's Cot.  Won't  she  laugh  when  she  sees  it? 

TALLASSER,  ALABAMA. 

DEAR  LITTLE  SADIE,— The  Postmistress  told  us 
that  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  was  to  be  sent  to 
the  little  child  in  the  r. it.  and  if  any  of  ns  want- 
ed to  write  to  her  we  might,  so  you  will  see  this 
in  our  paper.  Is  it  not  a  nice  paper.  Sadie?  Sa- 
die, I  was  going  to  send  some  money  to  the  Cot, 
but  as  they  have  the  sum  required. you  must  ask 
the  Sister  to  let  me  send  some,  if  not  much,  to 
you  or  other  little  children,  and  let  you  buy 
something  to  remember  your  friend  Libbie.  How 
would  you  like,  Sadie,  to  live  on  a  large  farm,  as 
Ido?  it  is  very  nice,  lean  tell  you.  I  sometimes 
help  milk  the  eows.  and  when  I  do  I  always  get 
some  nice  fresh  milk. 

I  had -a  beautiful  pair  of  canaries,  which  my 
aunt  gave  me.  named  Robbie  and  -Jennie,  but  Jen- 
nie died,  and  I  sold  Robbie  to  a  gentleman  wh 
wanted  to  present  him  to  one  of  his  friends.  II 
he  had  not  wanted  him  so  very  much  I  could  not 
have  parted  with  him.  I  am  going  to  try  some 
of  the  receipts  of  the  Little  Housekeepers.  ] 
wisli  I  could  send  you  some  of  the  things. 
Would  you  like  to  get  a  little  box  of  moss  and 
fern  from  a  ]iretty  little  branch  near  my  home' 
If  so,  I  will  send  it  to  you.  LIBBIE  S.  B. 

As  Sadie  is  in  bed,  dear,  and  can  not  move 
about.  I  am  sure  she  would  be  pleased  with  the 
box  of  ferns  and  moss  from  the  branch,  which 
let  me  explain  to  those  who  do  not  understand, 
is  not  the  branch  of  a  tree,  but  a  little  stream.  I 
think  the  kind  Sisters  would  prefer  that  gifts  o 
money  should  not  be  sent  either  to  Sadie  or  the 
other  children  individually,  though  toys,  books 
and  flowers  will  be  very  acceptable.  Little  friends 
who  wisD  to  help  along  may  send  their  pennies 
to  swell  the  Fresh-air  Fund,  and  then  all  the  hos 
pital  children  will  share  in  the  benetit 


again.    We  also  have  several  rabbits,  which  live 
n  our  currant  patch. 

I  like  the  stories  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE, 
ml  thought  "  Nan"  a  lovely  story.  I  like  the let- 
ers  too.  I  send  a  receipt  to  the  Cooking  club 
hat  is  very  good  : 

SUET  PUDDING.— Three  cups  of  flour,  one  cup  of 
net  ehopped  tine,  one  cup  of  sweet  milk.tno- 
hirds  of  a  cup  of  molasses  lor  brown  sugar),  two- 
hirds  of  a  cup  of  chopped  raisins,  spin-  and  salt. 
o  taste,  and  half  a  tea-spoonful  of  soda:  steam 
hrce  hours  :  eat  with  liquid  sauce. 

HELENA  B. 

Thanks  for  this  nice  letter,  and  for  the  pretty 
picture  and  the  receipt.  What  charming  open- 
air  concerts  you  have  had  these  summer  inorn- 
ngs !  The  birds  know  their  friends,  you  see.  It 
s  a  great  compliment  to  have  a  bluebird  perch 
on  one's  head,  for  they  are  very  shy  little  things. 
and  do  not  make  everybody's  acquaintance. 


CANTOS,  ILLINOIS. 

I  want  to  tell  you  some  incidents  eoncernin,. 
birds.    We  have  a  great  many  birds  nesting  01 
our  place— bluebirds,  robins,  lettuce-birds,  inili 
go -birds,  brown  thrushes,  skylarks,  cat-bird 
martins,  wrens,  and  three  kind's  of  sparrows  (the 
white-throated,  field,  and  chippv  sparrowi.    We 
have  from  two  to  four  nests  of  each  kind,  e\ 
cepting  skylarks,  white-throated  and  field  spar- 
rows, indigo-birds,  and  wrens,  which  have  one 
apiece. 

The  picture  I  send  you  is  one  brood  of  blue- 
birds, and  it  is  just  as  we  saw  them  one  morning 
in  a  cherry-tree  in  our  yard,  and  papa  drew  them 
to  send  to  you.  That  afternoon  a  little  bluebird 
lit  on  his  head  while  he  was  resting  from  his 
plough.  One  got  down  the  chimney,  and  into 
the  stove,  but  there  was  no  fire  in  it.  We  heard 
it  chirping,  and  my  sister  Edith  opened  the  stove- 
door  and  it  tlcw  out.  There  is  a  big  robin  that 
follows  papa  daily  as  he  goes  to  plough  or  hoe, 
ti>  rat rh  i  IM'  worms  that  he  turns  Mp.  \\V  caught 
several  baby  birds  this  spring. but  we  let  (hem  gc, 


Who  does  not  feel  happy  and  honored  when  a 
kind  grandma  draws  her  chair  into  the  circle, 
and  tells  a  story  to  eager  listeners  ? 

WATERTUWN,  New  YORK. 

My  sister  Agnes  and  I  spend  our  summers  with 
grandma,  and  when  mamma  goes  out  for  the 

•veiling,  the  dear  grandma  has  only  to  say,  "1 
will  read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box  to 
you,"  and  we  hurry  into  bed.  but  not  to,  sleep, 

:he  letters  are  too  lovely.  We  do  like  to  hear 
the  boys  and  girls  tell  about  their  dogs  and  cats, 
and  we  want  grandma  to  tell  you  about  her  bird. 

A  PET  ORIOLE. 

One  summer  night,  after  a  lovely  shower,  the 
sun  shone  out  a  few  minutes  through  the  rain- 
drops, and  a  young  bird,  tempted  by  its  beauty, 
thought  he  would  not  stay  in  the  little  nest ;  but 
alas!  his  wings  were  not  strong,  and  he  fell  to 
the  ground  from  a  tall  maple-tree.  Bridget,  who 
was  i-njoying  the  sunset,  picked  him  up  and 
brought  him  to  me.  I  was  surprised  to  sec  how 
strong  was  the  almost  featherless  bird  as  he  chirp 
ed  and  struggled  for  his  freedom.  I  put  him  in 
a  large  old-fashioned  cage  brought  down  from 
the  garret.  When  I  fed  him  I  took  him  out,  and 
gave  him  a  fine  cracker  soaked  in  milk. 

When  he  began  to  feed  himself  I  felt  quite  re- 
lieved. His  dish  was  the  bowl  of  a  gravy  ladle, 
witli  the  handle  off.  After  a  while  be  decided 
he  had  had  baby  dinner  enough  ;  as  soon  as  I  put 
it  in  his  cage  he. would  tip  it  bottom  side  up. 
Then  I  gave  him  dry  cracker,  fine-chopped  fresh 
meat,  raisins,  apple,  potato,  bread,  and  sugar. 
He  would  take  the  lump,  drop  it  in  water,  snatch 
it  up  very  quickly,  and  hold  it  in  his  clasv  to  eat, 
which  we  thought  very  cunning,  lie  always  left 
the  skin  of  the  raisin.  He  never  refused  to  step 
on  my  finger  when  I  held  it  for  him.  nor  tried  to 
get  off  until  I  placed  him  on  his  perch,  even 
after  he  had  his  freedom  in  the  ball,  with  doors 
and  windows  open.  He  always  gave  a  peculiar 
chirrup  when  I  came  toward  him,  which  he  never 
gave  to  any  other  person. 

He  was  a  homely  little  brown  bird,  and  we  did 
not  know  what  he  was.  My  husband  and  daugh- 
ter thought  I  had  better  let  him  go  ;  so  one  plea- 
sant day  I  put  him  up  in  the  maple-tree  from 
which  he  fell.  After  two  or  three  hours  I  sat  by 
the.  window. and  called  "Petie,  ivtie"  (that  was 
his  name).  He  came  flying  to  me.  I  put  him  in 
his  cage,  I  said,  to  stay. 

All  winter  he  amused  ns  with  his  cunning  little 
trieks.  If  I  put  a  new  spool  of  thread  on  the  win- 
dow-sill he  would  run  to  it,  peck  a  hole  through 
the  paper,  and  cock  up  bis  eye  to  me  as  much  as 
to  say.  "Was  it  not  funny  that  I  should  know 
there  was  a  hole  under  there'/"  He  always  did  it 
to  every  new  spool.  He  enjoyed  tumbling  over 
the  contents  of  my  work-basket.  He  would  take 
a  small  ball  of  yarn,  fly  to  the  top  of  a  picture- 
frame,  and  unwind  it.  When  I  was  knitting  he 
would  light  on  my  arm,  run  up  to  my  finn'is. 
and  peck  at  the  ends  of  my  needles,  as  if  he  were 
very  mad.  He  did  the  same  when  I  threaded  a 
needle.  He  always  did  e\  erything  with  a  great 
deal  of  vim.  When  it  got  to  be  cold  winter  wea- 
ther he  was  fond  of  sitting  on  grandpa's  nice 
woollen  coat  sleeve  when  he  was  reading  his  pa- 
per by  the  stove  ;  no  matter  how  inueh  he  folded 
and  unfolded  his  paper,  Petie.  like  Greeley,kept 
his  seat.  He  would  go  to  a  shelf  where  there  was 
a  tin  match-box  which  opened  with  binges,  lift 
up  the  lid,  pick  out  a  match,  go  to  the  edge  of  the 
shelf,  drop  it,  peek  down  to  see  it  fall,  and  then 
L'et  another.  If  grandpa  said  "Tut.  tut."  and 
shook  his  head  at  him.  he  would  droop  his  wings, 
and  bristle  up  at  him  as  a  rooster  does  when  he 
is  going  to  fight. 

One  day  1  came  into  the  room  with  some  white 
frozen  clothes  in  front  of  me.  His  cage  was  op- 
posite to  the  door,  and  he  saw  onlv  the  white  cloth. 
He  was  so  frightened  he  fell  on  the  bottom  of  tin- 
cage  insensible.  I  held  him.  and  called  "  Petie, 
Petie."  He  soon  came  to.  In,  the  spring,  when 
lie  began  to  get  his  new  feathers,  we  no  longer 
called  him  homely  :  he  was  the  beautiful  colored 
English  oriole.  He  was  our  bonny  bird  for  an- 
other year,  anil  then  in  the  spring,  when  be  I"' 
gan  to  moult,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  well:  his 
feathers  did  not  come  out  nicely.  We  were  afraid 
he  would  die,  so  I  concluded  to  give  him  a  chance 


.M'XE  26,  1883. 


IIAUI'KU'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


543 


fur  his  life.  I  put  him  in  a  bush  near  the  stoop, 
and  when  I  went  t«.  see  what  lit-  was  doing  I 
found  liini  devouring  a  big  green  worm,  "(ill. 
you  horrid  IVtie  :"  I  said.  "  you  shall  never  open 
my  lips  with  your  hill  again."  which  he  liked  I" 
tin.  Hut  that 'was  tin-  f,  M»d  he  needed,  for  In-  >"<  m 
grew  well  anil  hand-' >ui>' 

Tii-  next  da\  hi'  flew  into  a  hush  a  lilt].-  way 
from  the  house;  hut  when  1  went  to  him,  and 

held   HIV   linger  TII  Ills  toes,  he   Would    step  MH.  ;iml 

stay  until  I  put  him  in  his  cage.  Next  day  he 
He\v  a  little  farther,  into  an  apple-tree.  When 
tired  In-  Hew  hark  to  his  cage,  which  hung  on  the 
stoop.  I  hi'ld  my  finger,  put  him  in  the  cage  un- 
til next  day.  when  I  let  him  out.  One  lovely  day 
In-  il<-,v  from  tin-  hack  piazza  to  a  large  .-1m  tree 
at  the  fool  of  t  he  Lranli'M.  whose  n  .of  v  ton* -lied  a 
running  brook.  We  said,  "  (iood-hy,  pet  ie, "  \\  it  h 
te;ir>  In  our  eyes, for  we  thought  surely  he  li:id 

lei  I    us  then  ;  hut   I  In- dear  little  fellow  eallie  haek 

toward  night  t<  >  hi-.  e;ti;e. 

Sometimes  he  would  fly  in  when  we  were  at 
table,  and  light  on  my  shoulder.  J  would  feed 
him  boiled  potatoes,  bread, meat  nothing  salt 
ei|  \  pretty  girl  next  door  said  In-  helped  her 
pick  peas.'  she  would  push  him  along,  but  he 
did  not  mind,  but  eont  inued  to  help  himself. 
Once  he  did  not  come  for  a  few  days;  then  lie 
Hew  in.  and  tumbled  on  the  table ;  he  was  e\ 
hausled.  I  f<iund  one  of  his  wing^  \\  a--  hurt.  A 
eat  or  a  shot  had  brought  a  bloody  spot,  so  [  kept 
him  a  few  days  until  his  wing  wa--  strong.  We 
all  went  to  Saratoga  for  a  time.  Mridget  s.iid  he 

did   Hot    eome    lo   the    house   while   We    \\ere    L'OIU. 

I  iiit  i  he  da\  after  our  return  he  came.  The  lit  tit- 
rogue,  how  did  he  know?  lie  would  fly  in  at  Die 
window,  look  over  my  basket,  talk  away  with 
me.  and  then  go  off. 

One  beautiful  Sunday  morning  T  turned  from 
the  1 1  rook  to  walk  haek  to  the  house  up  the  gar 
den  walk,  when  an  oriole  Hew  in  front  of  me.  and 
lit  on  a  small  apple  tree  As  the  sun  shone  on 
him,  with  his  wings  spread,  1  said.  "  How  beaut  i 
ful  \ou  ;ire;  handsomer  than  Iviie."  In  a  mo- 
ment he  lit  on  my  shoulder  ;  it  was  I V t  ie  himself. 
1  \\;ilked  up  lo  th.  house,  talking  lo  him  in  my 
usual  way.  "  You  dear  lit!  Ie  IV  fie,  \  on  ha\ '  be*  n 
gone  too  long  this  time."  I  held"  my  linger  t» 
him,  and  put  him  in  his  ea^e 

Me    never   Hew   awa\,  OF   objected    to   being  put 

in  his  eage,  (tin-  day.  late  in  the  fall,  he  made 
me  a  visit  after  dinner,  and  staid  quite  a  while. 

M\  son  said  that  If  ever  a  bird  tried  to  talk,  he  did. 

I  talked  to  him  afterward  ;  I  said  that  he  was  tr\ 
ing  to  say  thai  t  he  t  ime  had  eoine  when  t  he  birds 
\\  ei-i-  all  going  .soi it  li.and  he  \\  as  •.'<  'ing  "  it  li  t  lit  in 
I  torg"t  to  say  that  the  year  before,  ai  tin-  time 
birds  lefi,  he  look  to  his  suing  every  night,  and 
swung  stradily  in  the  night.  We  had  to  put  him 
in  a  room  by  himself ;  his  swinging  disturbed  us. 
lie  was  a  beautiful  singer.  \Ve  all  loved  him 
very  mueh.  The  following  summer,  when  we 
were  away  from  home,  ItrHget  said  a  beautiful 
oriole  flew  in  and  around  the  kitehen.  As  they 
are  wild  birds,  and  never  light  low.  I  have  no 
doubt  it  was  1'etie 

This  spring  one  lights  on  a,  crab-apple-tree  near 
my  window.  I  talk  to  him,  and  believe  he  is  my 
dear  little  1'eiie.  since  having  this  bird  I  have 
great  respect  for  the  feathered  songsters,  and 

believe   they   have   mueh    more    intelligence   than 

we  imagine.  Kven  the  common  robins  in  front 
of  my  window  hop  around  in  the  grass,  cock  up 
one  eye  a  I  me  so  knowing  and  friendly,  and  .seem 
to  say.  "<;lad  to  see  you  are  still  here  ;  suppose 
some  time  we  shall  miss  yon."  Yes,  dear  little 
birdies,  when  1  have  vanished  you  will  still  bright- 
en this  world  with  your  lovely  songs  and  beaut)'. 
A  GRANDMA  \~?  years  old). 

The  birds  have  found  their  way  into  the  1'ost 
ofliee  Ilox  this  week,  haven't  they,  dears?  Day- 
ton has  something  to  say  about  his  paroquets: 

Ql'lNTo   RANOI. 

I  like  the  story  about  ''Raising  the  '  PearP  " 
very  mueh.  We  have  some  paroquets  that  my 
uncle  brought  from  Mexico.  We  have  taught 
them  to  talk  a  little.  They  laugh,  whistle,  and 
say  "Paroqueta"  and  "Walter"  (my  brother's 
namei.  We  have  three  dogs.  (lypsy.  Fleet,  ami 
Jack.  Uypsy  is  a  bird  dog.  Fleet  a"  greyhound, 
and  Jack  a  terrier.  Jack  is  a  funny  little  dog, 
and  when  he  sees  anybody,  or  when  anybody 
speaks  to  him,  he  says  "  Bow-wow-wow,"  and  it 
sounds  like  "  How  do  you  d«>?"  We  have  a  pea- 
cock, and  when  he  spreads  his  tail  he  looks  very 
pretty.  I  go  to  school  everyday.  I  do  not  like 
ir  very  much.  Did  you  ever  see  a,  boy  that,  did? 
My  little  sister  wants  to  know  if  she  may  write  to 
you.  Will  you  please  tell  me  what  is  meant  by 
"  wiggles'1  that  some  of  the  correspondents  send? 

DAYTON  W. 

The  wiggles  were  very  clearly  explained  in  the 
Post-office  Box  of  No.  185.  Certainly  your  little 
sister  may  write. 


of  all  when  he  brings  your  nice  Yorxo  PEOPLE, 
for  they  are  so  funny,  you  know.  I  like  the  loaf- 
of  bread  story,  and  nurse  and  I  laugh  over  it  ott- 
en  ( d-by.  MARGARET  s.  s. 


UFLAMI,  Niw  YOHK. 

MY  DEAR  POSTM  [STRESS. —I  am  only  four  years 
old,  and  hope  you  won't  think  me  too  little  to 
write,  but  I  asked  mamma  if  1  might  semt  you  a 
letter  and  tell  you  to  please  send  my  YOUNG  l'i:o- 
PLE  every  day,  for  it  is  so  long  to  \\-;iit  a  whole 
week,  and  you  are  so  good  and  kind,  I  guess  you 
\\on't  mind  the  trouble.  I  run  out  to  meet  papa 
every  Wednesday,  and  like  the  little  letters  best 


SKALY,  TEXAS. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  have  a  little 
-i-ter  -i\  years  old,  and  a  baby  brother  two  years 
old  the  34th  "f  May;  he  celebrated  his  birthday 
at  our  grand  Ma\  F-  ;i-i.  and  my  little  sister  was 
Mower- girl  for  the  ijueen.  My  grandpa  made 
me  a  pre-ejii  ,  ,t  \  OIM.  PEOPLB  this  >  ear.  I  mean 
n.-ver  to  he  without  it.  Papa  and  mamma  read 
il  and  like  it  very  mueh.  I  send  three  wiggles, 

ARTIITH  M. 

CHATTAS \.  '!>.•,•,  >      ,  , 

I  am  ju^l  ten  years  old  :  T  have  a  brother  four- 
teen \\  e  enjoy  reading  Y" IM,  PKOI-I.K  ;  we  have 
two  volumes  bound.  I  have  a  little  dog  named 
Fox  :  when  he  wants  a  drink  of  water  he  goe>  to 
th.  \\:i-h  -land  and  barks.  My  brother  is  work- 
ing to  get  a  wateh  this  summer;  he  thinks  he  is 
a  big  man  now.  1  have  made  a  sofa  pillow  for 
papa,  era/.\  nuilf  pattern.  I  am  now  going  to 
w  ork  on  a  quilt  ;  I  have  a  great  many  silk  piece*. 
I  ean  draw  the  figures  on  the  pieces  myself  before 
\\  <  irking  l  hem  K  ATIK  I ' 

WKST  RoxBrnv,  %f  AfWAOiirsKTTs. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  \ears  old,  and  1  ha\e 
never  been  at  sehoo]  e\eept  to  mamma,  1  ha\e 
\  oi  M.  PKOPI.K  ever  since  it  was  published, 
and  my  papa  sends  it  aNo  to  my  cousin  in  Brook 
lyn.  New  York.  1  have  [883 bound,  and  am  going 
to  ha\  e  i  lie  ot  her-  bou in  1  My  mamma  wants  me 
to  ask  you  il  1  ean  get  a  few  of  the  first  numbers 
of  IMS]  to  replaee  some  that  were  torn  I  have 

named   one  of  my  dolls  Alliee.  because  I  liked  the 

M  •  -r\  <  >t  "  Nan"  s. ,  much. 

I  have  a  \ «  i -\  lame  eanary  named  Puffy,  and  he 
eanie  to  my  dolls'  tea  part)'  yesterday,  and  ate 
Some  Seed  "n  the  lahle.  lie'  likes  to  bathe  so 
well  that  he  \\ill  take  a  bath  while  mamma  is 
h-'I'ling  tin-  bathing-dish.  I  have  a  dog  n.nned 
Seott.  and  if  you  would  like  lo  h;i\e  me  do  so  T 
will  tell  you  about  a  letter  he  wrote  me  when  I 
was  in  the  country, and  some  other  funny  things 
he  has  done.  I  live  very  near  where  Tli-'"l<  n 
1'arker  (ir-t  pivaehed  and  li\  ed.  We  have  a  tret- 
cm  our  plaee  ealled  the  Parker  Oak,  when1  lie 
u-ed  to  sit  and  read.  HELEN  T. 

Messrs.  Harper  .V  Brotliers  will  send  you  the 
missing  numbers  if  you  will  specify  them,  inclos- 
ing t  he  priee  of  eaeh  n  umber. 


ery  kind  of  flower.  We  have  no  flowers  in  bloom 
yet.bul  have  several  kinds  planted.  Ihaveiak 
en  HAC.I'KK'S  YorM,  I'KOI-LK  for  over  two  years. 
.My  cousin  took  it  tor  the  first  two  years  i't  was 

Fublished.  and  I  read  it  and  liked  it  so  well  that 
coaxed  papa  to  get  it  tor  me.  \Ve  all  think  it 
-o  ni,,.  that  \ve  would  not  be  without  it  We 
have  no  pets  non  except  an  old  cat  and  her  kit- 
tens. She  ha<-l  four  kittens,  but  we  gave  away 
three  of  them.  We  had  an  old  cat  that  was  sev- 
en years  old  when  he  died.  lie  would  jump  up 
and  hit  the  door  laieli.  open  it.  and  come  in.  At 
night,  when  we  left  him  in  the  house, he  would 
jump  up  and  hit  the  little  button  or  knob  on  the 
top  of  ttie  cupboard,  and  help  himself  to  meat  I 
-•'i id  rny  name  as  a  member  of  the  Housekeepers' 
Sociable.  1  can  not  cook  mueh.  I  can  make  soda 
biscuit,  and  pancakes,  and  a  few  other  plain  dish- 
es. 1  made  a  cake  day  before  yesterday  called 
feather  cake  that  was  one  of  the  best  I  ever  made. 
Mamma  and  I  have  tried  several  of  the  receipts 
in  Vui-xu  PKOPLE.  CAIIIUK  M. 

RALEIGH,  I\r>IANA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years  old.  I  like  to  read 
IIAIU'KII'S  Yorxc  PEOPLE  very  much.  I  like  the 
story  of  "  liaising  the  '  Pearl' "  best  of  all.  I  go 
to  school  every  day.  and  have  a  good  time.  1 
h:i\e  a  little  baby  brother  over  a  year  old.  My 
papa  is  a  doctor  '  1  sometimes  ride  out  with  him 
\\  lien  lie  goes  lo  see  the  sick,  (iood-by. 

WILI'IE  E.  A. 

Thanks  for  welcome  favors  to  C.  II.  s.,  llnttlr 
Ci.  S..  Katii'  II.,  Ann  it-  s..  Josic.  Harry  V.  V.  llnviil 
II..  l.inlnUr.  ll.,S<-lni)lrr  A.,  1  iimia  II.  II..  Lillian 
I,.  I...  Kmily  <i.  S..  Arthur  K.  It.,  Kvn  T.  P.  ilhanks. 
dear,  for  the  \  iolets,  and  I  think  you  are  very  in- 
dustrious to  sew  so  well,  and  darn  your  own 
stockings;  Mieh  a  daughter  is  a  little  treasure), 
\.  K.  F..Kclini  1,.  «.,  I,.  K.  I,.,  Fri'ilili..  II.,  C'harlt'y 
i  your  letter  was  nicely  printed  for  such  little 
lingersi.  Alice  I,.  F.  ilhanks  for  the  receipts!.  \rt- 

tif  II.  II.  M.  i  the  violets  were  sweet,  ami   I   Would 

like  lo  see  the  rose  i,  Sarnh  I'.,  I.ouis  F,  S.,  Kiln  K. 
('..  Cicrald  S.  H..  and  Aimio  It.  J.  Annie  is  very 
kind  to  in\  ite  mi-  to  conic  and  help  eat  her  cher- 
ries, and  1  \vish  it  were  in  my  power  lo  accept  so 
tempi  in-  an  invital  ion. 


We  are  l  wo  little  L'irl-.  tiertie  and  Sadie  i,. 
Gertie  Is  twelve  years  old  and  Sadieten.  We  have 
a  kind  aunt  in  America  who  pays  for  II.\i:ilKit's 
^  -M  M;  1'h.e.i'i  r.  and  we  think  it  is  very  idee.  This 
i~  Ihe  scc-ond  \e:ir  We  h;ive  had  it.  We  must  tell 
you  of  a  lii  i  Ie  dog  we  had.  named  Frisk.  lie  had 
\ei-v  lnnn\  \\a\-  Kvery  night  when  our  father 
came  home  he  met  him  and  itegged  fi  >r  his  strap, 
lie  was  killed  by  a  large  dog. 

SADIK  and  (JKKTIK  (i. 

I  feel  puzzled  about  the  strap-  What  did  the 
doggie  want  with  it  f  What  a  pity  he  \\  as  killed  ' 


Rm   r>K  JANKIRO,  llRAZtt.. 

T  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  I  live-  in  |<jo  dc 
Janeiro  with  my  papa  and  mamma.  I  have  a  eat 
and  dog  and  some  doves  11  has  been  raining  for 
two  or  three  (lays,  and  some  houses  here  have 
been  flooded  with  water.  I  go  to  school  ,,n  M«>n- 
da) .  and  come  home  on  Friday.  I  liked  "  Nan," 
anil  I  like  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  very  much. 
Mamma  reads  them  to  me.  EMILT  S.  L. 


LOUISVILLE.  KKNTVCKV. 

I  feel  mighty  sorry  for  Sadie  McSbague.  and 
send  her  the'  picture-book  1  made  myself.  I  have 
lust  finished  it  this  afternoon.  How  is  she  to- 
day'.' IMca-e  tell  me  some  more  about  Nan  when 
you  finish  about  C'aptain  Sammy. 

JI-LIET  NOLD  P. 

The  scrap-book  was  very  beautiful,  and  I  sent 
it  to  Sadie,  who.  I  am  sun-,  was  delighted  with 
the  pretty  pictures. 

MOI/NT  VEKVON,  INDIANA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years  old.  I  have  been 
going  to  school;  lam  in  the  Fifth  Grade.  I  have 
a  great  many  pets.  I  have  two  dogs.  Tip  find 
Dick,  and  a  cat  named  Tom.  that  looks  like  a 
tiffer,  and  a  canary-bird  named  Johnny,  that  can 
whistle  just  like  a  person. 

We  live  on  a  beautiful  high  ridge  in  the  city  ; 
have  a  large  house  and  four  acres  of  ground. 
We  have  all  kinds  of  fruit.  I  have  no  brothers 
or  sisters,  though  I  have  just  as  much  fun.  I  like 
HAKPEU'S  Yorxi;  PEOPLE  very  much.  T  rend  ev- 
erv  story  in  it  and  all  the  letters.  I  think  it  is 
the  best  paper  lever  saw.  I  like  Jimmy  Bro\\  n's 
stories  very  much.  OSCAR  C.  H. 


PI  //I.KS  r'Ko.M  Y<»rx<;  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

E  N  I  (J  11  A. 

first  is  in  hot,  but  not  in  warm, 
second  in  please,  hut  not  in  charm, 
third  is  in  run.  hut  not  in  chase, 
fourth  is  in  pitcher,  not  in  vase, 
fifth  is  in  put.  but  not  in  place, 
sixth  is  in  allspice,  not  in  mace, 
seventh  is-  in  deer,  but  not  in  fawn, 
eighth  is  in  sell,  but  not  in  pawn. 
whole  is  a  hero  famed  for  strength, 
you  think  vou  can  guess  his  name  at  length  v 
M.  K,  W. 


Mv 

MS 

My 
My 
My 

My 
\U 
My 
My 
Do 


No.  2. 

WORD    SQUARE. 

1.  The  repose  of  Nature.  2.  The  truant.  3. 
That  which  tempted  the  naughty  truant.  4.  The 
place  he  searched  for  blackberries.  5.  The  places 
where  he  sought  birds'  nests. 


^^^H         No.  3. 

TWO    ANA.iltAMS. 

1 .  <  i  reat  helps.    2.  Ten  tea-pots. 


JnpLiv,  Missouni. 

As  I  had  nothing  to  employ  myself  with,  I 
thought  I  would  write  to  you.  It  has  been  cool 
for  this  time1  of  year,  with  but  few  wild  flowers. 
There  arc  roses,  lilacs,  verbenas,  and  almost  ev- 


ANSWEttS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  188. 
Xo.  I.  Wcishington.    Violet. 

No.;!.  The  letter  E. 

No.  3.  "Evil  is  wrought  by  want  of  thought  as 
well  as  want  of  heart."— HOOD  :  /'/"  IM- 
'///'.<  I>i>  (tut. 

Othello.  Wat  (Tylen.  Withs.  Bun.  Taffy. 
Gath.  (iarth.  Lass.  Awe.  Vireo.  Now. 
No.  4.  X  o 

LEE  ASP 

XEBEC'      OSCAR 

EEL  PAN 

*'  K 


A 

ADD 

A  D  D  E  K 

DEN 

R 


V 

FIT 
VIPER 

TEN 
R 


No.  ."i.  Star— rats.  Time— emit.  Live— evil.  Reed- 
deer. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Tiny  Rhodes,  Josephine  Hopgood,  Charles 
c.  K.,  Elsie  Button,  Anna  Lovell,  Edgar  Jevvett. 
Albert  Wells.  John  Malcolm  Sinclair,  D.  W.  C., 
Kinncy  McLean.  rhnriVs  C.  Robertson.  Josie  and 
Lulu,  W.  O.  Harper,  Frank  Lynn,  (T.  c.  Ihirdin. 
Margaret  Paine.  Flora  Pollack,  Willie  P.,  and 
A.  11.  C. 

[For  Exchange*,  .w  -  'V  <tu<l  'M  pages  of  cover.] 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"I'VE    GOT    A    WHACKER    THIS    TIME,   SURE." 

WHO  WAS  UK.' 

DY      L.     A.     FRANCE. 

HE  was  born  in  England,  at  Rothley  Temple,  Leicestershire, 
iu  the  first  year  of  the  present  century. 

When  ho  w;is  very  young  he  showed  a  great  fondness  for 
reading.  When  only  tliivr  years  old  lie  would  spread  his  book 
open  on  the  floor,  and,  with  a  piece  of  bread  and  butter  in  his 
hand,  would  read  lying  on  the  floor  beside  his  book. 


When  he  was  seven  years  old  he  had  written  several  cantos 
of  a  poem  and  several  hymns. 

He  was  not  fond  of  toys  or  playthings,  but  delighted  in 
long  walks,  and  especially,  as  he  grew  older,  in  romping  plays 
with  liis  brothers  and  .sisters,  with  whom  he  was  a  great  I'a- 
vorite. 

He  was  a  bright,  good-tempered  boy,  always  pleasant,  and 
full  of  fun. 

He  had  a  remarkable  memory.  After  once  reading  anything 
that  pleased  him  he  could  repeat  it  word  for  word.  He  could 
recite  the  "Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  1'ilijrim'x  /Vm/n*.i,  and 
"Paradise  Lost." 

When  he  was  twelve  years  old  he  was  sent  to  a  private  school, 
and  at  the  age  of  eighteen  entered  Trinity  College,  Cambridge 
('Diversity.  He  disliked  mathematics,  and  from  neglecting  that 
branch  of  study  came  near  losing  his  chance  of  getting  a  fel- 
lowship. 

In  1826  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  but  gave  little  attention 
to  the  practice  of  law.  In  182">  lie  became  a  contributor  to 
the  I-'iliiibitrijk  Kericw.  Five  years  later  he  became  a  member  of 
the  House  of  Commons.  He  was  elected  to  Parliament  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  made  a  speech  on  the  Kelbrin  Hill  that  beeame 
famous. 

In  1H33  he  received  an  appointment  which  took  him  to  India, 
lie  returned  in  five  years,  and  again  went  into  Parliament,  and 
was  made  a  member  of  the  cabinet.  He  left  the  latter  at  I  lie 
end  of  t\\o  years.  He  then  began  a  historical  work  which  he 
had  planned  some  years  before. 

He  had  great  conversational  powers,  but  had  an  aversion  to 
general  society,  and  disliked  to  go  to  a  dinner  party.  He  was 
very  fond  of  his.  little  nieces  and  nephews,  and  often  playil 
with  them  and  took  them  to  walk. 

In  li-Ci'-i  his  health  failed,  but  was  soon  restored  snflieiently  to 
enable  him  to  engage  in  his  Parliamentary  duties.  In  \--~>l  he 
\\as  raised  to  the  peerage.  He  died  in  lw.";>.  and  is  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey. 


BUTTERFLIES. 

BY    AGNES    M.  ALDEN. 
••  "ITTHAT  lovely  groups  of  yellow  flowers 

'  '       Bloom  in  the  grass  to-day! 
I'll  quickly  run  and  gather  them 
To  add  to  my  bouquet." 

As  little  Toddles  hastened  on 

To  pluck  the  blossoms  gay, 
These  living  flowers  spread  their  wings. 

And  lightly  flew  away. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


vor..  iv. -MI  i  a 


PUBLISHED  m    IIAUI'KU  ,V   I'.U<  >TII  Ki;s.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  July  3,  1883. 


I--  I,  T.y  HiEr»  &  BIOTHIU. 


SI. 50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


„  /  . 

&  m 

•• 


\ 


CANISTER  SLIDE; 

OR,  HOW  AN  ENGLISH  SCHOOL  KEPT  THE  FOURTH. 

BY   ELIOT    MrCORMICK. 

I. 

rwas  the  queerest  Fourth  of  July  that  Harry  Tremaine 
had  ever  spent  in  his  life.     Half  the  day  had  already 
passed,  and  he  had  not  heard  a  fire-cracker  nor  seen  a  flag. 
Except  for  the  almanac  he  would  not  have  known  that  it 
was  the  Fourth ;  and  the  absence  of  all  those  noises  and 


'FASTER   AND    FASTER   THEY   FLEW." 


Mi', 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


sights  to  which  he  was  accustomed  made  him  feel  home- 
sick and  sad.  Of  course  he  could  not  expect  to  find  the 
day  celebrated  in  an  English  school,  but  it  provoked  him 
that  it  was  not,  and  the  unceasing  questions  of  the  boys 
about  America  added  to  his  annoyance. 

It  would  not  have  vexed  him  if  their  questions  had 
been  intelligent,  but  in  fact  they  were  very  stupid.  None 
of  the  boys  knew  anything  at  all  about  the  United  States, 
though  some  of  them  thought  they  did,  and  professed  to 
doubt  Harry's  plain  and  simple  answers,  while  if  he  ro- 
manced and  exaggerated  they  were  quite  likely  to  believe 
him.  Just  now  they  were  particularly  curious,  and  Har-_ 
ry  found  it  hard  work  to  keep  his  patience. 

"I  say,  Tremaine,"  Tom  Owen  had  just  remarked, 
"  didn't  yon  say  to-day  would  be  some  sort  of  a  holiday  in 
your  country  ?" 

Harry  nodded. 

' '  Why,  of  course, "  he  said ;  ' '  it's  the  Fourth  of  July. " 

The  boys  looked  mystified. 

"  But  we  don't  know  what  that  is,"  said  Owen.  "Win- 
is  the  Fourth  more  than  the  fifth  or  the  sixth  ?" 

Harry  had  to  stop  and  think  for  a  moment  what  the 
Fourth  really  meant. 

"Why,"'  he  said,  ''it  was  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1770, 
that  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  signed."' 

"The  Declaration  of  Independence!"  Owen  repeated. 
"  Pray  what  was  that  ?" 

This  utter  ignorance  about  things  that  Harry  had  al- 
ways known  was  very  trying. 

"Oh  dear!"  he  exclaimed,  "why  don't  you  read  histo- 
ry ?  Why  don't  you  learn  something  about  America  ?" 

Owen  was  disposed  to  be  indignant. 

"Learn  about  America!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  assure 
you,  Tremaine,  we  know  a  great  deal  about  it.  There's 
your  Niagara  Falls,  for  instance;  I  fancy  there  isn't  a  boy 
here  who  doesn't  know  it's  in  New  York.  It  will  be  a 
favorite  afternoon  resort,  I  suppose,  with  vou  New- 
Yorkers." 

"  Ay,"  remarked  Dick  Wentworth,  "  and  the  new  sus- 
pension-bridge between  New  York  and  Brookville — how 
odd,  you  know,  that  all  your  towns  should  end  in  '  ville' ! 
— that  crosses  just  below  the  Falls,  doesn't  it  ?  It  must  be 
a  grand  sight.  Just  fancy  the  two  cities  on  either  hand, 
and  the  great  Falls  rushing  down  between,  and  the  Bridge 
spanning  the  rapids  below!" 

Owen  nodded. 

"You  see,  Tremaine,"  he  said,  complacently,  "we're 
not  as  ignorant  as  you  think.  In  fact,  we  know  a  great 
deal  about  America.  There's  your  civil  war  now.  That's 
been  going  on  about  twenty  years,  hasn't  it  '." 

Tremaine  stared. 

"Going  on !"  he  exclaimed.      "  What  do  you  mean ?" 

"Oh,  not  in  your  Northern  States,  of  course,"  Owen 
hastened  to  explain,  "but  down  South,  in  Chili,  you  know, 
and  Peru.  I  see  they  had  another  battle  there  only  a  lit- 
tle while  ago.  Seems  to  me  your  government  ought  to 
be  strong  enough  to  put  all  that  sort  of  thing  down  be- 
fore tl 

Harry  did  not  imagine  any  one  could  be  so  ignorant. 
"  Why,  look  here,"  he  exclaimed;  "  that's  South  Amer- 
ica.     It  hasn't  anything  to  do  with  the  Southern  States. 
Our  war  was  over  a  dozen  years  ago." 

Owen  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Oh,  well,"  he  said,  "South  America  or  the  Southern 
States ;  it's  all  the  same.  There's  a  war  there  somewhere, 
I  know,  because  I  read  about  it  in  the  papers — 

"But,  Tremaine,"  interrupted  Charlie  Fairfax,  who 
was  younger  than  most  of  the  rest,  and  whose  questions 
Harry  answered  more  patiently,  both  on  that  account  and 
because  he  reminded  the  lad  of  his  own  little  brother  at 
home — "but,  Tremaine,  tell  us  about  your  Fourth  of 
July.  How  do  you  celebrate  it  anyway  ?" 

"Oh,  we  have  fire-works  and  parades,  and  people  fire 


off  their  guns  and  cannons  and  make  speeches  and  read 
the  Declaration  of  Independence.  It's  an  immense  day, 
Charlie,  at  home.  If  I'd  only  thought  about  it  in  time 
and  the  Doctor  had  let  me,  I'd  have  had  my  father  send 
me  some  fire- works  here." 

The  boys  looked  at  one  another,  while  a  larger  one,  who 
had  not  yet  spoken,  laughed  rudely. 

"Well,  you  must  be  fresh,"  he  said. 

Harry's  face  flushed. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Cornwallis  ?"  he  asked. 

"What's  the  matter?"  the  other  repeated.  "What  is 
the  Fourth  of  July  anyway  ?  Isn't  it  the  anniversary  of 
the  day  when  you  declared  yourselves  independent  of 
Great  Britain  ?" 

Tremaine  nodded. 

"Of  course  it  is,"he  replied;  "that's  what  I  said." 

"And  do  you  suppose  we're  going  to  help  you  cele- 
brate that  ?" 

Harry  drew  himself  up  a  little  proudly. 

"I  don't  know  why  you  shouldn't,"  he  said,  "if  you 
felt  right  about  it." 

"Well,  we  don't,"  declared  Cornwallis,  "and  we  never 
will.  We  don't  take  any  stock  in  America,  at  any  rate. 
It's  a  nation  of  day-laborers;  there  ain't  any  gentlemen 
there,  you  know." 

Tremaine's  eyes  flashed. 

"  Do  you  call  yourself  a  gentleman,  Cornwallis  ''."  he 
asked. 

' '  The  Cornwallises  have  been  gentlemen  since  the  Con- 
quest," the  other  replied,  grandly. 

"Is  that  so?"  Harry  inquired.  "Well,  we  haven't 
many  of  your  kind ;  that's  a  fact." 

Cornwallis  grew  very  red. 

"I'll  whip  you  for  that,  Tremaine,"  he  cried,  rapidly  be- 
ginning to  take  off  his  coat. 

Harry  did  not  move.  His  face  flamed,  and  his  hands 
were  clinched  at  his  side.  If  it  were  necessary  he  would 
defend  himself,  but  he  had  promised  his  father  that  he 
would  not  get  into  any  fights,  and  was  resolved  that  Corn- 
wallis should  not  make  him  break  his  word.  The  boys 
meanwhile  had  formed  a  ring,  and  were  looking  on  in 
keen  anticipation  of  the  affray. 

"Why  don't  you  take  off  your  coat  ?"  demanded  Corn- 
wallis, angrily. 

"I'm  not  going  to  fight,"  said  Tremaine. 

Cornwallis  raised  his  hand,  and  brought  it  down  on  Har- 
ry's cheek.  "Now  we'll  see  if  you  won't  fight,"  he  said. 

Harry's  face  grew  white.  He  moved  a  step  forward, 
and  raised  his  hand.  Then  letting  it  drop,  he  stepped 
back  to  his  old  place. 

"  I  sha'n't  fight,"  he  said,  simply. 

Cornwallis  laughed  tauntingly.  "You're  a  coward," 
he  sneered. 

Some  of  the  other  boys  repeated  the  odious  word,  and 
the  ring  widened  and  broke  up  as  Cornwallis  resumed  his 
coat. 

"You're  a  coward,  Tremaine,"  he  repeated;  "all  the 
Americans  I  ever  knew  were  cowards." 

Harry  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak,  and  as  he  turn- 
ed away  all  the  boys  drew  back  to  let  him  pass.  He  felt 
that  he  was  in  disgrace.  It  had  been  lonely  enough  be- 
fore :  how  much  worse  would  it  be  now !  He  went  into 
the  school-room,  and  sitting  down  at  one  of  the  forms, 
tried  to  keep  back  the  tears  that  would  persist  in  coming 
to  his  eyes.  Presently  he  heard  some  one  come  in  the 
door,  and  then  a  child's  voice  at  his  side  said,  "I'm  aw- 
fully sorry,  Tremaine." 

It  was  little  Fairfax,  and  the  few  words  of  sympathy 
took  a  load  off  Harry's  heart. 

"  Thanks,  Charlie,"  he  said.  ' '  I  was  a  little  broke  up, 
but  I'm  all  right  now." 

"But  why  wouldn't  you  fight  ?"  the  boy  asked,  wonder- 
ingly.  "I'm  sure  you  weren't  afraid." 


JFLY  3,  1883. 


.HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


547 


"The  others  think  I  was."  said  Harry. 

"\Vell,  yes,  they  do."  admitted  Fairfax;  "but  I  don't 
believe  it." 

"Ceiitlemen  don't  fight  in  my  country."  said  Harry, 
"and  I  promised  my  father  I  wouldn't  do  it  here.  Wasn't 
it  better.  Charlie,  not  to  strike  him  hack  than  to  have  the 
Doctor  write  home  to  my  father  that  I  was  a  lighting 
character,  and  he  didn't  want  me  here  ?" 

"I  don't  believe  the  Doctor  would  have  done  it."  said 
the  boy;  "he's  used  to  such  thing's.  But  I  think  it  was 
pluckier  in  you  than  if  you  had  struck  him.  Are  you 
going  anywhere  this  afternoon,  Tremaine  :  It's  Wednes- 
day, and  a  half  holiday,  you  know." 

Harry's   face   clouded   again.       "I    was   going   up  San 
thwaite   Pike,''  he   said,  "with    ( 'omwallis.      I'.ul    that's 
over  now." 

"Oh.  can't  I  go  with  you  }"  asked  the  little  box.  "I 
knuxv  the  paths,  and  any  of  the  fellows  will  tell  you  I'm 
good  at  a  tramp." 

Harry  rose  up  from  the  seat.  "Why.  of  course  you 
ran,"  be  said,  "if  you  ain't  afraid  the  fellows  xviil  send 
you  to  Coventry:  I  suppose  that's  what  ibex 're  going  to 
do  xvitb  me." 

(  'barlie  laughed. 

"  (  )h.  I'm  toolillle."  he  said  ;  "  it  don't  make  any  dill'er- 
enee  xvhat  I  do." 

"All  right,  then,"  said  Hairy.  "Come  along.  If 
( 'uriixvallis  goes  the  mountain's  hi",  enough  for  three,  and 
xv e  can  keep  out  of  his  xvay." 

II. 

The  boys'  route  to  the  mountain   lay  through  Overdale 

Valley,  al  the  entrance  to  which  the  school  was  situated. 

to  the  foot  of  the  Tike,  and  then  by  a  pal  li  leading  around 
tlie  back  of  the  mountain  to  its  top.  Looking  at  it  from 
the  valley  beloxv,  it  presented  a  precipitous  front,  the  high- 
est and  steepest  part  of  which,  reminding  Harry  of  the  I'al- 
isades  on  the  Hudson  Kiver.  \\as  knoxvn  as  the  Canister 
('ran'.  Very  near  the  top  the  face  of  the  elitl'  was  ter- 
raced b\  a  number  of  old  slate  quarries,  \\hile  an  almost 
perpendicular  track,  over  which  the  quarry-men  had  been 
ill  the  habit  of  sliding  their  slate,  descended  from  these  to 
the  valley  beloxv.  The  climb  up,  though  leading  half 
around  the  mountain,  was  not  difficult  until  they  neared 
the  summit.  Then  the  path  could  hardly  be  traced  ;  great 
bowlders  blocked  the  way,  terraces  of  slaty  rock  rose  up 
before  them,  and  chasms  yawned  under  their  feel.  Har- 
ry began  to  wonder  if  Charlie's  recollection  had  not  failed 
him,  \vhen,  on  scaling  one  of  the  terraces,  he  found  him- 
self unexpectedly  at  the  top.  Around  them  spread  the 
mountains,  some  higher,  others  lower,  than  themselves; 
on  the  one  hand  Lake  Derwentwater  glistened,  and  on  the 
other  Buttermere,  while  far  away  they  could  just  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  sea.  The  view  was  worth  the  trouble,  Har- 
ry declared  ;  and  throwing  themselves  on  a  rock,  the  boys 
spent  an  hour  in  resting  and  taking  in  its  details. 

When  at  length  they  started  to  come  down  Charlie  pro- 
posed that  they  should  explore  the  slate  quarry  at  the  top 
of  the  crag,  fifty  feet,  perhaps,  beloxv  the  summit  of  the 
Pike.  This  might  be  done  by  following  a  rough  path, 
which  the  boys  accordingly  took,  and  which  brought  them 
in  a  fexv  minutes  to  the  brow  of  the  cliff.  Only  a  few 
feet  away  lay  the  quarry,  which  it  seemed  was  not  in 
use,  with  the  slide  to  the.  valley  below,  looking  steeper 
even  and  more  fearful  than  it  did  from  underneath. 

"A  man  used  to  come  down  there  sometimes  on  a 
sledge,"  Charlie  remarked,  as  they  stood  gazing  at  the 
precipitous  slope.  "He  was  one  of  the  quarry-men,  and 
when  lie  saw  the  Buttermere  coach  coming  he'd  slide 
down  and  meet  it,  and  the  passengers  would  give  him  six- 
pence. I  believe  he  fell  off  one  day,  though,  and  got 
killed." 

Harry    shivered.      To   a   boy   who  had    coasted   down 


American  hills  all  his  life  it  was  a  terribly  fascinating 
place. 

"Come  away."  he  said,  turning  abruptly  round.  "I 
feel  as  if  I'd  like  to  go  clou  n  myself." 

Charlie  was  not  unwilling  to  leave  a  place  that  sug- 
gested such  dangerous  desires,  and  they  moved  up  the 
path  once  more.  They  had  only  gone  a  few  steps,  how- 
ever, when  for  some  cause  Charlie's  foot  slipped,  and 
with  a  cry  of  pain  he  fell  to  the  ground. 

"Oh,  Tremaine,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  believe  I've  come 
to  grief!" 

Harry,  who  xvas  a  step  or  two  in  advance,  turned  around 
in  dismay. 

"Oh,  come."  he  said;  "it  isn't  as  bad  as  that.  Pick 
yourself  \i]i.  old  man.  and  start  off." 

But  Charlie  tried  In  vain,  while  the  pain  of  the  attempt 
turned  his  face  a-.hy  pale. 

"  1  can't  touch  it  to  the  ground, "he  said,  despairingly; 
"it  hurts  even  to  move  it.  1  couldn't  get  doxvn  the 
mountain  to  save  my  life.  I  say.  Tremaine.  you're  an 
American;  what  shall  xve  do  .'" 

Harry   looked  up  at   the  sky.      It  was  not  yet   late,  but 
there  \vere  clouds  of  vapor  rolling  in  from  the  sea.      Un- 
less they  made  haste  they  might  be  caught  on  the  mount 
aia   in  a    fog:  and  yet    in  Charlie's  condition  they  could 
not  ex  en  stir. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  carry  you. "said  Harry,  in  despera- 
tion. "  Put  your  arms  around  my  neck,  Charlie,  and  see." 

The  boy  did  as  lie  xvas  told,  and  Harry  struggled  for  a 
few  steps  miller  his  load.  Hut  the  path  was  too  .sleep  and 
too  treacherous.  lu  a  fexv  moments  Harry  slopped,  and 
gently  loxvered  his  burden  lo  ihe  ground. 

'  I  can'l  do  it.  old  fellow."  he  said,  mournfully.  "  I'm 
afraid  of  falling  myself,  and  that  would  only  make  it  worse. 
No  xv  if  ( 'ornxxallis  would  only  turn  up.  both  of  us  might 
get  yon  doxvn. 

At  the  same  moment,  as  if  his  wish  had  been  heard, 
Cornxvallis  appeared  around  a  turn  some  distance  below. 

"  I  sax  .  (  'ornxvallis!"  Harry  cried,  in  great  excitement — 
"Cornwallis:" 

The  other  did  not  slacken  his  pace  nor  even  look  up. 

"Cornxvallis!"  Marry  cried  again.  "For  Heaven's 
sake,  stop!  Fairfax  has  lamed  himself." 

The  wind  carried  doxvn  the  words  so  that  Cornwallis 
could  hardly  escape  hearing  them,  but  he  paid  no  alien 
tion.  Another  moment  would  take  him  around  the  turn, 
out  of  sight.  Harry  felt  as  one  might  feel  on  a  raft  at 
sea  when  a  ship  goes  by  without  heeding  the  signal  of 
distress. 

"Cornwallis!"  he  cried  once  more. 

But  while  he  cried  Cornwallis  turned  the  corner  of  the 
path,  and  was  lost  to  view.  Harry  stamped  his  foot. 

"Mean  fellow!"  he  cried;  "I'll  whip  him  when  I  get 
back  to  school — see  if  I  don't." 

Meanwhile  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  wrapped  in  va- 
por, and  it  could  not  be  long  before  they  too  would  be  en- 
veloped in  the  soft  white  garment.  If  anything  was  to 
be  done  it  must  be  done  at  once.  Harry  looked  around 
!  in  despair.  All  at  once  his  mind  went  to  the  quarry  not 
a  hundred  feet  away. 

"Charlie,"  he  cried,  "I've  got  an  idea." 

The  little  fellow  smiled  through  his  pain. 
"You  Americans  are  full  of  'em,"  he  said;   "I  knew 
you'd  work  it  out." 

Meanwhile  Harry  had  rushed  to  the  quarry.  In  a  min- 
ute he  had  explored  it,  found  what  he  wanted,  and  hur- 
ried back. 

"Say,  Fairfax."  he  cried,  "will  you  trust  me  to  take 
you  down  that  slide ''.  The  sledge  is  there  all  right,  and  I 
can  do  it.  Will  you  try  it,  Charlie?'' 

The  boy  raised  himself  on  one  arm. 
"Are  you  sure  you  can  do  it  ?"  he  asked.      "  It's  an  aw- 
fully risky  thing,  you  knoxv." 


548 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


LITTLE   FRITZ    AXD    HIS    SOLDIER   DOLL. 

"Do  it!"  Harry  exclaimed.  "I've  coasted  all  my  life, 
and  I've  tobogganed  in  Canada  too.  If  a  fellow  can  do 
that,  he  can  do  this.  All  you  will  have  to  do  will  be  to 
shut  your  eyes,  take  a  long  breath,  and  hold  on.  Hul- 
lo!" lie  cried,  looking  down  into  the  valley,  ''there  comes 
the  afternoon  coach  from  Buttermere  now  ;  if  we  can 
catch  that  we're  all  right.  Get  on  my  back,  Charlie;  the 
sledge  is  at  the  quarry,  and  when  you're  once  011  that  I'll 
have  you  down  in  the  valley  in  less  than  a  minute.'' 

Roused  by  the  other's  enthusiasm,  Fairfax  allowed  him- 
self to  be  carried  to  the  head  of  the  slide.  Here  Harry 
placed  him  on  the  sledge,  taking  his  own  position  in  front, 
with  his  legs  outstretched  in  order  to  steer. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?"  Harry  asked. 

Charlie  hesitated.      "  You're  sure  you  can  do  it?" 

"Sure!"  he  exclaimed;  "if  I  wasn't  sure,  Charlie,  I 
wouldn't  try  it.  Shut  your  eyes  now,  and  hold  on  tight; 
I'm  going." 

He  gently  propelled  the  sledge  to  the  top  of  the  slide, 
and  gave  it  a  push  with  his  foot.  Away  it  went  with  the 
speed  of  the  wind.  Fairfax  gave  a  little  gasping  cry,  and 
grasped  Harry  more  tightly  around  the  waist.  Harry, 
when  he  found  that  the  track  was  as  smooth  as  ice,  and 
that  the  sledge  answered  to  his  touch  as  well  as  a  coasting 
bob  or  a  toboggan,  lost  his  fears.  A  tremendous  sense  of 
exhilaration  took  possession  of  him.  Faster  and  faster 
they  flew.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  the  sledge  had  left 
the  track  and  was  careering  through  the  air.  Not  even 
on  the  toboggan  slide  had  Harry  ever  gone  so  fast,  and 
while  his  own  wind  was  all  right,  he  could  hear  Char- 
lie panting  for  breath.  Presently,  however,  it  would  be 


over.  Indeed,  their  speed  had  already  be- 
gun to  slacken  as  the  sledge  gained  the  lev- 
el ground;  and  looking  ahead,  Harry  could 
see  that  there  was  ample  room  for  their 
momentum  to  spend  its  force.  Skillful- 
ly guiding  the  sledge  down  to  the  little 
stream  that  ran  through  the  valley,  Harry 
ran  it  on  the  bridge,  the  arch  of  which 
checked  its  further  progress,  and  stopped  it 
within  ten  yards  of  the  waiting  stage- 
coach. 

Harry  turned  around  to  his  companion. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "  it's  over." 
Charlie  rubbed  his  eyes  in  a  dazed  way. 
"Thank  Heaven!"  he  said,  reverently. 
"To  tell  the  truth,  Tremaiiie,  I  never  ex- 
pected to  get  down  alive.     It  was  just  ter- 
rific.    I  suppose  it  took  about  five  minutes, 
didn't  it?" 

Harry  had  now  shouldered  the  boy,  and 
was  carrying  him  toward  the  coach. 

"How  long  did  it  take ?"  he  called  out  to 
the  driver. 

The  man,  who  had  heard  Charlie's  calcu- 
lation, laughed. 

"Thirty-three  seconds,  sir,"  he  said,  ap- 
provingly, "and  very  well  done  too.  I 
never  see  poor  Jim — the  quarry-man,  you 
know,  sir — do  it  quicker."  He  looked  at 
Harry  curiously  for  a  moment,  while  the 
lad  helped  Charlie  inside  the  coach.  ' '  You 
are  bound  for  the  school,  sir  ;" 
Harry  nodded. 

"Ay,"  he  said;  "my  friend  here  had  a 
fall,  and  it  was  the  only  way  I  could  get 
him  down." 

"And  begging  your   pardon,  sir,''   the 
driver  went  on,  "you're  the  young  Ameri- 
can gentleman,  I  fancy  ;" 
This  time  Harry  laughed. 
"  Why,  how  do  you  know  that  ?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"Oh,  I  know'd  it  by  your  accent,  sir,"  remarked  the 
man,  gathering  up  his  reins,  "but  I  know'd  it  more  by 
your  pluck." 

III. 

Three  or  four  hours  later  Cornwallis  came  along  the 
valley  road  toward  the  school.  He  had  found  himself 
caught  in  the  fog,  had  lost  his  way,  come  out  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  mountain,  and  added  eight  or  ten  miles 
to  his  already  long  walk.  To  these  vexations  was  added 
the  accusing  sense  that  he  had  left  Tremaine  and  Charlie 
on  the  mountain,  and  that  Fairfax,  as  he  had  heard  Tre- 
maine call  out,  was  lamed.  What  if  they  could  not  get 
down  ?  Indeed,  if  Charlie  were  lame,  how  could  they  get 
down  ?  Most  likely  they  were  still  on  top  of  the  crag.  It 
was  now  quite  dark,  and  even  if  he  reported  it  at  the 
school,  it  would  be  too  late  to  hunt  them  up.  The  nearer 
he  got  to  the  school,  the  more  contemptible  his  own  part 
in  the  business  seemed. 

By-aiid-by  he  drew  near  the  house.  Ordinarily  one  or 
two  lights  would  be  shining  through  the  windows,  but 
now  every  room  in  the  lower  floor  was  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated, as  though  a  party  were  going  on.  Wondering 
what  it  could  be,  he  trudged  up  to  the  gate,  and  pulled 
the  bell.  In  a  moment  the  porter's  form  appeared  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bars. 

"What's  the  matter  ?"  inquired  Cornwallis.  ' '  What's 
going  on  ?" 

"  They're  celebrating  the  American  holiday,  sir,"  the 
man  said,  letting  Cornwallis  in. 

Celebrating  the  American  holiday  !  What  did  the  man 
mean  r  Cornwallis  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  then 


JULY  3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


549 


brushing  by,  walked  up  the  path  to  tbe  door.      Sounds  of 

applause  •j-rcetcd  his  car  as  he  opened  it.  and  as  lie  entered 
the  hall  and  looked  throiiirh  the  door  of  the  .school-room, 
an  extraordinary  sight  met  his  astonished  gaze. 

The  boys  were  all  sealed  at  their  forms:  the  head  mas 
ter's  figure  occupied  the  platform ;  in  front  of  him.  though 
(  'ornwallis  could  hardly  believe  his  c\  es,  stood  'I'remainc. 
while  over  the  hitter's  head  waved  a  very  small  Amer- 
ican Hair.  Tremainc  was  reading  from  a  book,  and  as 
Corn waUis listened  he  heard  these  words: 

'That  these  united  colonies  are  and  of  rinlit  ought  to 
be  free  and  independent  Slates;  that  they  arc  absolved 
t'r all  allegiance  to  the  I'.ritisb  crown,  and  that  all  po- 
litical connection  between  them  and  the  state  of  Great 
Britain  is  and  ought  to  be  totally  dissolved.'  " 

Cornwallis  leaned  over  and  touched  \Veiit\vorlh  on  tbe 
arm. 

"What  is  it  !"  be  asked.       "What  does  it  mean  .'" 

Wentworth  looke<l  ti|i  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  it's  you.  is  it  .'"  he  wliispered.  while  Harry  kept 

on  read im.''  "  Well,  don't  y -ver  call  Tremaine  a  COW- 

ard  auain." 

"  \\'hat's  happened  :"  asked  (  'ornwalli- 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  .said  \Yent\vorth:  "I  fancy  he's 
nearly  through." 

Harry's    face    was    Hushed    with   the  excileinen  I    of   read 

ing  the  stirring  words  ,,f  ihe  I  >.  i-larat i..n  to  an  audience 

of  llrilish  hoys.  1101 f  wli had  ever  heard  it  be- 
fore, and  his  voice  rani:  through  the  hall  as  hi-  repeated 

the  closing  sentence :   "  '  \Yc  mutually  pledge  to  each  oth 

er  our  lives,  our  fortunes,  and  our  sacred  honor.'  " 

During  the  applause  that  followed  \Yeni\\orth  found  a 

ehanee  to  tell  what   had  happened. 

"  \n\i  see,"  he  added,  after  reciting  the  story  of  1 1.irry's 
daring,  "we  all  felt  ashamed  of  ourselves  for  calling  a  I'd 
low  that  had  so  much  nerve  as  that  a  couard.       No  fellow 

in  the  school,  you  know,  ever 

camcdown  ( '.-mister  Slide  he 
fore.  We  all  apologi/rd  to 
him,  but  that  didn't  seem  ti  > 
be  enough  :  \\e  felt  as  if  we 
ought  to  do  somethinir  by 
way  of  penance.  Soweasked 
the  I  loclor  if  \\c  might  cdc 
brate  the  American  holiday, 
and  if  Tremaine  might  read 
us  bis  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence,  and  that's  what 
he's  been  doing.  And  real- 
ly, Cornwallis,  if  it's  all 
true.  1  believe  myself  the 
Americans  were  right." 

Without  answering,  Corn- 
wallis walked  across  the 
room  to  where  Harry  was 
still  standing.  His  relief  at 
linding  that  tbe  hoys  were 
not  fog-bound  on  Canister 
(.'ray.  and  his  British  admi- 
ration for  a  plucky  tiling, 
had  quite  overcome  his  sense 
of  resentment. 

''I  beliaved  like  a  brute 
to-day,  Tremaine,"  he  said, 
"twice." 

But  Harry  held  out  bis 
hand. 

"Never  mind,  Cornwal- 
lis," he  said,  heartily,  "it's 
all  come  around  right,  you 
see,  and  it's  tbe  happiest 
Fourth  I  ever  spent  in  my 
life." 


"IN  HONOE  BOUND." 

BY  I.I  i  V  C.  I.1LLIE, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  MII.DKEII'S  HAIIUAIN,"  "NAN," 

LTI...   ETC. 

I. 

YKUYBODY  dislikes  her. 
I'<1  just  leave  her  out  of 
the  whole  tiling." 

"  And  serve  her  right 

too." 

"Of  all  things  1  hate 
a  ini'iiu  girl  more  than 
anything." 

The  last  elegantly  ex- 
pressed idea  produced 
silence  for  a  few  min- 
utes among  the  group  of 
girls  on  Miss  Barring 
ton  s  law  n.  They  u  en- 
half  a  do/en  in  number, 
varyinir  in  airc  from  twelve  to  sixteen,  and  were  like  most 
\ouiiL1  people  of  their  kind  who  are  country  born  and  bred 
robust,  healthy,  thought  less]  \  happy  yirls.  with  no  spe 
dally  distinctive  t  rails  unless  in  the  case  of  the  lirst  speak- 
er, Kitty  .Icnncrs.  w  ho  had  a  sharp,  quick  method  of  speech 
and  ireslure.  keen  black  eyes,  and  a  ireneral  air  of  almost 
military  command,  or  in  the  last.  May  I'.lake,  a  rosy  dim 

pled  uirl  of  fourteen,  who  as  she  spoke  tried  to  look  very 

Calm,  hut    only    seemed   to  show  more  completely  her  in 
aliilit.\    to  do  so  under  any   circumstances. 

"1  think  it  is  time  to  jrjve  her  a  lesson,"  Said  Kitty's 
voice,  risinir  rather  shrilly  ayain.  And  llattie  Barnes 
added. 

"I   In  ipe  she'll  learn  it." 

Kitty    Hashed  a  quick  look  around  at  Hattie,  as  though 


AMY    AT    HER    DESK. 


550 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


that  young-  lady  had  expressed  too  decided  an  opinion, 
and  went  on  in  a  milder  tone: 

"I  don't  suppose  we  need  be  positively  horrid  to  her, 
but  just  show  her  what  we  think.  Here  is  a  girl  who 
came  to  the  Academy  three  months  ago  with  heaps  and 
heaps  of  clothes,  and  piles  of  money,  and  a  guardian  who 
just  gives  her  everything,  and  yet  she  never  has  taken 
part  in  any  school  fun  or  treat,  and  only  contributes  the 
meanest  little  sums  to  everything." 

As  Kitty  stopped  for  want  of  breath — it  could  never 
have  been  words  —  Hattie  ventured  to  remark, 

"And  the  worst  of  her  is  that  she  never  has  anything 
to  say  about  herself.'1 

"Oh, "said  Kitty,  with  an  expressive  gesture  of  her 
hand,  "we  all  know  that  her  guardian  is  a  rich  gentle- 
man, who  took  her  when  her  mother  died  at  sea  because 
her  father  had  been  his  friend." 

"How  did  you  hear  that,  Kitty?''  May  inquired,  ea- 
gerly. 

"Oh,  I  know,"  rejoined  their  commaiider-in-chief,  one 
of  whose  principles  was  never  to  give  her  information  too 
definitely.  "  I  know.  She  and  her  mother  were  on  their 
way  from  California,  and  Mr.  Symes  was  on  board,  and 
when  Mrs.  Rodman  died  he  promised  to  take  Amy.  My 
aunt  knows  the  ship's  doctor.  Have  you  ever  seen  Mr. 
Symes  ?  He's  the  queerest-looking  little  old  man.  I  don't 
envy  Amy  once  her  school-days  are  over." 

As  Kitty  paused  again,  the  figure  of  a  tall  young  lady 
with  a  very  lovely  face  came  around  from  the  garden, 
and  as  she  drew  nearer  the  girls  every  face  brightened, 
and  Kitty  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  Miss  Martin,  do  come  here !  We're  talking  about 
the  fair." 

"Well,"  said  Miss  Martin,  smiling  good-humoredly  as 
she  joined  the  little  group,  "and  what  about  that  ;  Are 
not  all  the  plans  made  ?" 

"  Nearly  all.  Of  course  Miss  Barrington  has  been 
kind  about  it,  and  we  are  to  have  the  refreshments  from 
Volkes's,  you  know,  and  can  invite  all  our  friends  but — 
Kitty  colored  slightly;  something  in  the  English  teach- 
er's fair  quiet  face  made  the  words  die  on  her  lips.  But 
courage  was  Kitty's  strong  point ;  she  rose  above  her  sud- 
den timidity,  and  went  on:  "But  we  are  going  to  show 
Amy  Rodman  that  we  don't  need  anything  from  her. 
We  asked  her  to  contribute,  and  what  do  you  suppose  she 
said  :" 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  one  or  two  voices,  as  the  speakers  turn- 
ed eager  glances  upon  their  favorite  teacher,  "just  what 
do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell,"  she  said,  smiling  quietly. 

"Well,"  pursued  Kitty,  with  her  nose  rather  high  in  the 
air,  and  using  a  tone  of  calm  disdain,  "she  asked  the  ob- 
ject of  the  fair,  and  when  we  told  her  that  it  was  to  buy 
decorations  for  the  school  -  room  she  fumbled  and  hesita- 
ted, and  at  last  gave  fifty  cents!'' 

Miss  Martin  looked  a  little  pained  or  puzzled,-and  Kitty, 
evidently  thinking  she  had  triumphed  over  any  possible 
defense  the  teacher  might  offer,  went  on  to  say: 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we  have  dune.  We  have  returned 
her  the  money  with  a  polite  note  of  thanks,  and  have  as- 
sured her  that  we  would  not  think  of  such  a  thing  as  even 
asking  her  to  attend  the  fair,  as  everything  will  be  so  ex- 
pensive." 

Kitty  laughed. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  during  which  one  or 
two  of  the  girls  showed  signs  of  uneasiness.  Then  Miss 
Martin  said,  very  gravely, 

"Well?" 

"Well,"  echoed  Kitty,  flushing  a  very  little,  "don't 
you  think  that  ought  to  settle  her  '" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Martin,  smiling,  but  still  •with  some- 
thing repressed  in  her  manner — "yes,  Kittv,  I  think  it 
will." 


"Oh,  come  now,  Miss  Esther,"  exclaimed  Kitty,  •'you 
have  something  on  your  mind.  Do  say  it." 

Miss  Esther  laughed  gay] y . 

"Of  course  I  have,  Kitty.  But  what  good  would  it  do 
for  me  to  argue  with  you  in  poor  Amy's  favor  ?  You 
have  chosen  to  set  yourselves  against  her,  and  consider 
her  a  miser.  Now  I  can't  entirely  defend  her  conduct, 
and  it  would  do  no  one  any  good  for  me  to  persist  in  say- 
ing that  I  feel  she  is  misjudged.  And  as  for  the  course 
you  have  taken  in  regard  to  the  fair,  it  is  done;  but  I  hope 
you  will  not  have  to  repent  of  it  too  bitterly." 

And  nodding  brightly  to  the  girls.  Miss  Esther  walked 
on,  disappearing  a  moment  later  through  one  of  the  side 
doors  of  the  Academy. 

The  girls  stood  still  and  in  silence  for  a  brief  space  of 
time  after  this;  then  May  said,  with  a  furtive  glance  at 
Kitty's  face, 

"I  wonder  what  Miss  Esther  really  thinks.  Kitty  .'" 

"(ih. "said  that  young  person,  with  an  effort  at  lofti- 
ness, "I'm  sure  I  wish  I  could  always  feel  on  the  char- 
itable side  of  things  as  she  does,  though  I  don't  think  it's 
just.  I  don't  believe  in  submitting  to  actual  injustice 
even  in  such  a  case  as  this.  Nowr  remember,  girls,  this 
is  a  decisive  time.  Amy  Rodman  has  to  be  taught  a  les- 
son which  I  hope  no  girl  who  comes  after  her  will 
forget." 

This  was  their  commander's  order,  and  if  any  one  of 
the  number  felt  inclined  to  rebel  a  very  little  it  was  May 
Blake,  whose  heart  was  always  soft  and  tender;  but 
May's  weak  point  was  that  she  never  could  oppose  any 
ruling  voice.  Had  it  even  been  Hattie's,  I  fear  her  moral 
courage  would  not  have  been  sufficient  to  battle  against 
it,  but  Kitty  Jenners  had  in  earlier  days  at  the  Academy 
been  her  champion  and  defender,  and  as  she  had  always 
looked  up  to  her  as  a  superior  being,  it  was  but  natural 
for  one  of  her  clinging,  rather  yielding  nature  to  allow 
Kitty  to  guide  her  opinion  of  Amy  Rodman  as  well  as  of 
nearly  everybody  and  everything  else.  It  wras  not  alone 
because  of  a  belief  that  Kitty,  with  her  quick,  domineering 
ways  and  fertile  imagination,  her  truthfulness  and  firm 
belief  in  her  code  of  school  honor,  was  always  right. 
but  because  little  May  had  a  fashion  of  preferring  to  be 
guided,  petted,  and  loved,  that  she  did  not  openly  that 
morning  express  some  of  the  doubts  she  felt  as  to  the 
justice  of  excluding  Amy  Rodman  from  their  prepara- 
tions for  the  fair.  May  looked  at  Kitty  again,  with  the 
words  of  charity  almost  trembling  on  her  lips;  but  she 
let  the  moment  pass,  as  so  many  of  us  do  in  large  and 
small  matters — the  moment  for  decision  which  leads  to 
action,  perhaps  to  a  whole  field  of  new  loftiness  in  pur- 
pose and  results. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Esther  had  gone  into  the  house  and 
made  her  way  down  the  cool  matted  halls  toward  a 
small  school-room.  It  was  a  holiday;  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing bravely,  and  the  young  teacher's  heart  felt  very  full 
of  peace  and  good  cheer.  She  liked  her  work  and  her 
pupils  and  her  home,  and  could  look  forward  to  pleasant 
vacation  weeks  spent  with  her  only  brother  in  his  sea-side 
home,  and  she  could  afford  a  great  part  of  her  thoughts 
and  her  time  for  those  among  the  pupils  who  needed 
them.  Just  now  her  heart  was  full  of  the  girl  Kitty  had 
been  discussing  with  her— Amy  Rodman,  the  orphan,  who 
had  been  among  them  just  three  months. 

Miss  Esther  stood  still  in  one  of  the  hall  windows  a 
moment  before  going  into  the  school-room,  trying  to 
think  the  matter  over  calmly.  Reprove,  exhort,  insist 
as  she  might,  there  was  a  very  warm  corner  in  Miss 
Esther's  heart  for  Kitty  Jenners,  and  the  teacher  well 
understood  how,  without  brilliancy  or  any  touch  of  intel- 
lectual genius,  Kitty  had  obtained  the  power  over  the 
girls  which  she  certainly  possessed.  And  if  only  she 
could  be  made  to  see  that  influence  rightly  used,  that 
subtle  power  of  guiding  the  will  and  inclination— nay, 


Jfl.V   3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


even  tin-  belief  iif  others  is  a  divine  yift— how  much  such 
a  girl  a-.  Kilty  miyht  do.  not  alone  here,  in  the  limited 
circle  of  school  irirl  friends,  but  out  in  the  larger,  busier 
world  when-  she  would  one  day  n'o  I"  carry  the  power  of 
Jier  tnithful.  upright,  eauer  nature  amoiiLT  many  who 
would  bend  lo  the  eliarni  and  be  inlluenced  by  all  her 
wordsaiid  actions!  Miss  Esther  knew  well  that  to  many 
of  the  yirls  Kitty  was  an  oraeli-  never  to  be  questioned. 
But  whether  from  llie  inexperience  of  youth,  the  narrow 
niiniledness  impossible  to  separate  from  fifteen,  or  mere 
thoughtlessness,  Kilty  rarely  seemed  to  value  her  re 

sponsibility.  ti nsider  how.  like  the  pebble  thrown  into 

Water,  and  which  causes  a  mullitiide  of  ripples  reaching 
onwanl  to  the  very  ocean,  her  words,  her  actions,  her 
opinions,  could  be. 

Had  she  chosen  to  make  a  friend  of  Amy  Rodman,  to 
think  carefully  of  and  for  her.  Miss  Esther  felt  sun-  that 
Ihe  child  would  have  been  won  from  her  reserve,  would 
have  shaken  oil'  the  half  shy.  half  melancholy  manner 
which  enveloped  her.  and  jj'one  aiii'>nu  her  new  compan- 
ions \\ilh  freed md  naturalness  I'ul  Kitty  's  genet 

ou-s  disposition  had  from  the  lirsl  revolted  against  what 
.she  considered  si^iis  of  miserliness  in  the  rich  orphan. 
Amy  had  parsed,  as  it  were,  in  review  before  the  general 
of  the  A  Isford  Academy  .  and  been  found  ii  n  w  orl  hy  ;  l>ul 
as  she  could  not  be  absolutely  dismissed  fi-oiu  the  ranks, 
she  could  at  least  be  subject  lo  the  severest  military  dis 
cipline;  and  hard  e\en  upon  herself,  Kitly  never  thin-lied 

with   others    \\hen    she  isidercd  such  discipline   nee,, 

sary. 

Mis.s  Kslher's  smile,  as  she  watched  Kilty's  tall,  lilhc 
ligure  among  the  others  on  the  lawn,  ended  in  a  sigh 

when  she  opened  the  school  room  .1 •  .mil  quietly  went 

in. 

At  the  upper  end  of  llie  room  a  girl  of  about  fourteen 
was  sitting,  writing  rapidly,  with  her  arms  spread  mil  ,o 
angles  on  the  desk,  and  her  head  bent  low  above  llie  pa- 
per. She  lifted  her  face  suddenly  as  Miss  Kslher  eni,  pi  d, 
and  Hashed  a  sweet  smile  of  recognition  upon  the  young 
ladv;  her  near-sighted  eyes  \\crc  quick  enomjh  lo  know 
tin-  face  she  cared  most  to  see.  and  as  Miss  K>1  her  came 
forward,  the  tired,  anxious  look  about  the  n'irl's  iiuuith 
and  eyes  softened  as  she  stood  up.  her  face  looked  almost 
pretty  in  spite  of  its  thin  outline  and  sallow  color,  and 
about  it  was  something  SO  womanly  and  gentle  thai  ayaln 

Miss  Ksther  fell  Kitty  was  losing  one  of  the  golden  chances 

of  life  in  not  making  Amy  Rodman  her  friend. 

[TO  UK    UONTISl'KIi   | 


THE  CltAKtlE  OF  THE   HoT'NDS. 


>]••    Till-:     CKEEIv     -VVAK. 

!;•>   i.F.oia.t;  c  \i;v  i:<a;l.i:sTox. 

TERRIBLE  bit  of  news  was  carried  from  mouth  to 
mouth  through  the  region  that  is  now  Alabama  at 
the  beginning  of  September,  1813.  The  country  was  at 
that  time  in  the  midst  of  the  second  war  with  Great  Britain, 
and  for  a  long  time  British  agents  had  been  trying  to  per- 
suade the  Creeks — a  powerful  nation  of  half-civilized  but 
very  war-like  Indians  who  lived  in  Alabama — to  join  in 
the  war  and  destroy  the  white  settlements  in  the  South- 
west. 

For  some  time  the  Creeks  hesitated,  and  it  was  uncer- 
tain what  they  'would  do.  But  during  the  summer  of 
1813  they  broke  out  in  hostility,  and  on  the  30th  of  August 
their  great  leader,  Weatherforcl,  or  the  Red  Eagle,  as  they 
called  him,  stormed  Fort  Minis,  the  strongest  fort  in  the 
Southwest.  He  took  the  fort  by  surprise,  with  a  thousand 
warriors  behind  him,  and  after  five  hours  of  terrible  fight- 
ing destroyed  it,  killing  about  five  hundred  men,  women, 
and  children. 

This  was  the  news  that  startled  the  settlers  in  the  region 


where  the  Alabama  and  Tombigbee  rivers  come  together. 
It  was  certain,  after  such  a  massacre  as  that,  that  the  In- 
dians meant  to  destroy  the  settlements,  and  kill  all  the 
w  bite  people  without  mercy. 

In  order  to  protect  themselves  and  their  families  the 
settlers  built  rude  forts  by  setting  timbers  endwise  in  the 
ground,  and  the  people  hurried  to  these  places  for  safe- 
ty. Leaving  their  homes  ID  be  burned,  their  crops  lo 
be  destroyed,  and  their  cattle  to  be  killed  or  carried  olV 
by  the  Indians,  the  settlers  hastily  e-0t  together  what 
food  i  hey  could,  and  took  their  families  into  (he  nearest 
forts. 

One   of  the  smallest    of  these   stockade  forts  was  called 
SinqueHeld.     It  stood  in  what  is  now  Clarke  County,  .Ma 
bama.  and  as  thai    region   was  very  thinly  settled,  there 

•  P6  not  enough  men  to  make  a  slroni;-  force  for  the  de 
I'ensc  of  the  fort.  But  the  brave  farmers  and  hunters 
thought  they  could  hold  the  place,  and  so  they  look  llieir 
families  there  as  quickly  as  they  could. 

T..  o  families,  numbering  seventeen  pcrso-is.  found  it  was 

not  easy  ID  yo  lo  Si  n  i  [lie  lie  Id  on  t  he  '.'d  of  September,  and 
so,  as  they  were  pretty  sure  that  there  were  no  Indians  in 
their  neighborhood,  they  made  up  their  minds  to  stay  one 
more  night  at  a  house  a  few  miles  from  the  forl.  That 
nielli  they  were  attacked,  and  all  bill  live  of  ihem  were 
killed.  Those  who  j.'ot  away  carried  llie  news  of  what 
had  happened  to  the  fort,  and  a  party  was  sent  out  to 
briny  in  the  bodies 

The  nexl  day  all  llie  people  in  Korl  Si mpielield  went 
mil  lo  bury  their  dead  friends  in  a  valley  al  somi  liltle 
distance  from  llie  forl.  and.  strange  as  il  seems,  they  took 
no  arms  with  them.  Believing  thai  there  were  no  In- 
dians near  the  place,  they  left  Ihe  yates  of  I  he  fortress 
open,  and  \\  cut  out  in  a  body  without  their  guns. 

As  a  mailer  of  fact  there  was  a  la  rye  body  of  Indians 
not  only  very  near  them,  but  actually  looking  al  them 
all  the  lime.  The  celebrated  Prophel  I'Yaiicis  was  in 
command,  and  in  his  sly  way  lie  had  crept  as  near  Ihe 

forl    as  possible   to    look    for  a  y 1  chance  to  attack  it. 

Making  his  men  lie  down  and  crawl  like  snakes,  lie  had 
reached  a  point  only  a  few  hundred  yards  from  Ihe  slock 
ade  without  alarming  the  people,  and  now  while  they 
stooil  around  llie  graves  of  their  friends  without  arms  to 
del',  nil  themselves  with,  a  host  of  their  savage  enemies 
lav  looking  at  them  from  the  grass  and  bushes  on  the 
hill. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  that  the  right  moment  had  come, 
Francis  sprang  up  with  a  savage  war-cry,  and  at  the 
head  of  his  warriors  made  a  dash  at  the  gates.  He  had 
seen  I  hat  the  men  outside  were  unarmed,  and  his  plan  was 
to  get  to  the  gates  before  they  could  reach  them,  and  thus 
get  all  the  people  of  the  place  at  his  mercy  in  an  open 
field  and  without  arms  to  light  with. 

The  fort  people  were  quick  to  see  what  his  purpose  was, 
and  the  men  hurried  forward  with  all  their  might,  hoping 
to  reach  the  fort  before  the  savages  could  get  there.  By 
running  at  the  top  of  their  speed  they  did  this,  and  closed 
the  gates  in  time  to  keep  Ihe  Indians  out.  But  to  their 
horror  they  then  saw  that  their  wives  and  children  were 
shut  out  too.  Unable  to  run  so  fast  as  the  men  had  done, 
the  women  and  children  had  fallen  behind,  and  now  the 
Indians  were  between  them  and  the  gates! 

Seeing  that  he  had  missed  his  chance  of  getting  posses- 
sion of  the  fort,  Francis  turned  upon  the  women  and  chil- 
dren with  savage  delight  in  the  thought  of  butchering 
these  helpless  creatures  in  the  sight  of  their  husbands,  fa- 
thers, and  brothers. 

It  was  a  moment  of  terror.  There  were  not  half  enough 
white  men  in  the  fort  to  master  so  large  a  force  of  Indians, 
and  if  there  had  been  it  was  easy  to  see  that  by  the  time 
they  could  get  their  rifles  and  go  to  the  rescue  it  would  be 
too  late. 

At  that  moment  the  hero  of  this  bit  of  history  came 


553 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•  JUST    AT    THE    MOMENT   WHEN    MATTERS    WERE    AT   THEIR   WORST,  HE  RODE   VP." 


upon  the  scene.  This  was  a  young  man  named  Isaac 
Haden.  He  was  a  notable  huntsman,  who  kept  a  famous 
pack  of  hounds — fierce  brutes,  thoroughly  trained  to  run 
down  and  seize  any  live  thing  that  their  master  chose  to 
chase.  This  young  man  had  been  out  in  search  of  stray 
cattle,  and  just  at  the  moment  when  matters  were  at 
their  worst,  he  rode  up  to  the  fort,  followed  by  his  sixty 
dogs. 

Isaac  Hadeii  had  a  cool  head  and  a  very  daring  spirit. 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  in  a  situation  at  a  glance, 
deciding  quickly  what  was  to  be  done,  and  then  doing  it 
at  any  risk  that  might  be  necessary.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
how  the  women  and  children  were  placed,  he  cried  out  to 
his  dogs,  and  at  the  head  of  the  bellowing  pack,  charged 
upon  tin'  flank  of  the  Indians.  The  dogs  did  their  work 
with  a  spirit  equal  to  their  master's.  For  each  to  seize  a 
red  warrior  and  drag  him  to  earth  was  the  work  of  a 
moment,  and  the  whole  body  of  savages  was  soon  in  con- 
fusion. For  a  time  they  had  all  they  could  do  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  unlooked-for  assault  of  the  fierce 
animals,  and  before  they  could  beat  off  the  dogs  the  men 
of  the  fort  came  out  and  joined  in  the  attack,  so  that  the 
women  and  children  had  time  to  make  their  way  inside 
the  gates,  only  one  of  them,  a  Mrs.  Phillips,  having  been 
killed. 

The  men,  of  course,  had  to  follow  the  women  closely, 
as  they  were  much  too  weak  in  numbers  to  risk  a  battle 
outside.  If  they  had  done  so,  the  Indians  would  have 
overcome  them  quickly,  and  then  the  fort  and  everybody 
in  it  would  have  been  at  their  mercy,  so  they  hurried  into 
the  fort  as  soon  as  the  women  were  safe. 


But  the  hero  who  had  saved  the  people  by  his  quick- 
ness and  courage  was  left  outside,  and  not  only  so,  but 
the  savages  were  between  him  and  the  fort.  He  had 
charged  entirely  through  the  war  party,  and  was  now 
beyond  their  line,  alone,  and  with  no  chance  of  help  from 
any  quarter. 

His  hope  of  saving  himself  was  very  small  indeed;  but 
he  had  saved  all  those  helpless  women  and  little  children. 
and  he  was  a  brave  enough  fellow  to  die  willingly  for 
such  a  purpose  as  that  if  he  must.  But  brave  men  do 
not  give  up  easily,  and  young  Hadeu  did  not  mean  to  die 
without  a  last  effort  to  save  himself. 

Blowing  a  loud  blast  upon  his  hunting-horn  to  call  his 
remaining  dogs  around  him,  he  drew  his  pistols — one  in 
each  hand — and  plunged  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks.  In 
spite  of  the  numbers  against  him.  he  broke  through  the 
mass  of  savages,  but  the  gallant  horse  that  bore  him  fell 
dead  as  he  cleared  the  Indian  ranks.  Haden  had  fired 
both  his  pistols,  and  had  no  time  to  load  them  again.  He 
was  practically  unarmed  now,  and  the  distance  he  still 
had  to  go  before  reaching  the  gates  was  considerable. 
His  chance  of  escape  seemed  smaller  than  ever,  but  he 
quickly  sprang  from  the  saddle,  and  ran  with  all  his 
might,  hotly  pursued,  and  under  a  terrific  fire  from  the 
rifles  of  the  savages.  The  gate  was  held  a  little  way  open 
for  him  to  pass,  and  when  he  entered  the  fort  his  nearest 
pursuers  were  so  close  at  his  heels  that  there  was  barely 
time  for  the  men  to  shut  the  gate  in  their  faces. 

Strangely  enough,  the  brave  young  fellow  was  not  hurt 
in  any  way.  Five  bullets  had  passed  through  his  clothes, 
but  his  skin  was  not  broken. 


3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


553 


SCENE  AT  A  FRENCH  FETE. 

IN  France  every  town  and  hamlet  has  its  patron  saint, 
and  every  patron  saint  lias  one  or  more  days  set  apart 
in  each  year  in  which  he  is  especially  honored.  These 
are  called  fete  or  feast  days,  and  during  them  there  is  a 
general  holiday  and  merry-making.  The  village  then  be- 
comes a  fair,  full  of  eating  and  drinking,  music  and  dan- 
cing, booths  and  shows.  Those  of  our  young  people  who 
have  been  at  Brighton  Beach  or  the  Iron  Pier  on  Coney 


Island  this  summer  will  have  a  very  good  idea  how  a 
French  village  enjoys  itself  during  the  fete  of  its  patron 
saint. 

There  are  amusements  of  all  kinds,  but  the  boys  and 
girls  are  sure  to  buy  ' '  mirlitoiis. "  A  niirlitou  is  a  tube  of 
hollow  wood,  covered  at  the  end  with  a  piece  of  mem- 
brane, and  having  a  hole  on  each  side  near  the  end. 
With  this  toy,  which  costs  a  cent,  they  can  make  a  very  loud 
noise,  and  as  they  all  seem  to  enjoy  doing  so,  you  may  im- 
agine what  a  Babel  there  is.  But  no  one  seems  to  mind 


554 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


it :  the  squealing  blends  with  the  cries  of  the  showman, 
with  the  singing  and  music,  the  laughing  and  bargaining, 
and  with  that  peculiar  thud  occasioned  by  the  game 
which  the  artist  lias  illustrated — the  macaroii  balls. 

You  will  see  that  there  is  a  large  box  or  trough  contain- 
ing a  number  of  wooden  balls,  and  this  part  of  the  box  is 
als: :  made  of  wood.  At  the  top  of  the  box  is  a  huge  human 
face,  with  staring  eyes  and  wide-open  mouth,  and  behind 
this  face  is  a  smaller  box,  which  is  made  of  tin.  The 
game  consists  in  so  throwing  a  ball  that  it  will  go  through 
the  open  mouth  and  strike  £he  tin  behind  it.  The  player 
pays  one  or  two  cents  for  each  chance,  and  if  he  succeeds 
he  gets  a  paper  of  those  delicious  little  macarou  cakes 
which  both  young  and  old  are  generally  fond  of. 

The  gentleman  in  the  picture  is  evidently  a  very  good 
player,  for  his  pretty  companion,  who  has  both  a  pet  dog 
and  a  parasol  to  carry,  seems  to  have  quite  as  many  shei  •!  s  of 
macaroiis  as  she  can  manage.  I  dare  say,  however,  that 
the  dog  will  need  a  great  many  for  his  dinner,  for  most 
dogs  are  extravagantly  fond  of  macaroiis,  and  if  you  have 
a  pet  clog  I  am  sure  he  will  gladly  prove  this  statement. 

The  vender,  or  man  who  keeps  the  macaroii  box,  gener- 
ally dresses  as  absurdly  as  possible  in  oi-der  to  attract  at- 
tention. In  the  case  illustrated  he  wears  spotted  panta- 
loons and  a  false  nose,  while  he  shouts  continually, 
"Come  along!  All  come  along!  One  sou,  two  sous  a 
chance.  Ladies  and  gentlemans  all  the  same." 


GYP. 

BY  MARY  B.  DODGE. 
fTMVO  brownest  of  eyes,  soft  peering 
_L      Through  a  shock"  of  shaggy  hiiir; 
Two  brownest  of  ears,  down  drooping. 

And  a  tail  (whisked  everywhere) 
Brown,  like  his  curly  jacket, 

Yet    white  at   the  waving  tip: 
This  is  our  doggie's  outline. 
Our  frolicsome,  kindly  Gyp. 

But  not  for  his  brave  appearance, 

Though  that  is  unique  indeed, 
Do  we  value  our  foreign  poodle 

Of  notable  Spanish  breed; 
But  more  for  his  comprehension, 

And  his  willing  way  and  quick 
To  learn  and  to  do  at  bidding 

The  oldest  and  newest  trick. 

"Speak?"     Yes,  he  speaks,  at  asking, 

In  loud  or  in  lower  key; 
Walks,  on  his  hind-feet  jumping, 

As  cunningly  as  can  be; 
Plays  dead,  while  nothing  will  rouse  him, 

Though  you  shake  him  and  tease  and  coax, 
Till  you  shout  "The  police  are  coming!" 

When  he's  up,  and  enjoys  the  hoax. 

He  begs,  and  he  catches  bix-uii 

On  the  bridge  of  his  nostrils  laid; 
Sits,  pipe  in  mouth,  with  a  cap  on. 

Like  an  old  judge  grave  and  staid; 
Finds,  with   the  truest   instinct. 

What  is  hidden  in  "hide  and  seek''; 
Steals  handkerchiefs  "for  a  living" 

From  pockets  whereout  they  peek. 

Charles  Reade  named  a  dog  once  Tonic, 

A  compound  of  steal,  bark,  whine; 
But  Gyp,  you  see,  is  an  actor, 

And  judged  on  a  higher  line. 
Besides,  he's  more  than  a  tonic 

In  the  sense  of  the  novelist's  wit — 
He's  a  genuine  jolly  companion. 

Full  of  gayety,  "go, ''and  grit. 

I  wish  I  had  space  to  tell  you 

The  half  of  the  things  he'll  do; 
lie  bounds  through  a  ring,  he  dances, 

lie  carries  and  fetches  too. 
In  short,  he's  a  wonderful  creature. 

Yet  doggie  from  tip  to  tip — 
Only  a  dog,  yet  splendid 

In  his  dogship  is  our  Gyp. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  ^  M  K  B<      OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "TOBY  TYLER."  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  "Mi;.  STI-EES'S  BROTHEK."  i  i. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE     EVERGLADES. 

IT  was  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  after  the  tour  of 
the  lake  had  been  decided  upon  that  the  PearJ  left  her 
anchorage,  and  sailed  to  the  southeast  along  the  shun--, 
or  at  least  the  geographical  boundary — of  the  lake.  It  is 
necessary  to  speak  only  in  a  technical  sense  of  the  shore* 
of  the  lake,  for  the  greater  portion  of  the  distance  the 
boundary  was  marked  only  by  tufts  of  grass  or  small 
patches  of  land  looking  like  little  islands. 

This  marsh,  or  submerged  meadow,  was  really  the  lake 
shore,  over  which  the  water  had  flowed  into  what  a  writer 
poetically  terms  "that  vast  island-studded  lake,  the  Ever- 
glades.'' 

Captain  Sammy  talked  during  that  first  day  of  the  voy- 
age of  discovery  as  if  he  had  some  stout  internal  spring 
which  prevented  his  jaws  from  closing;  but  as  all  he  >.-iid 
was  entertaining  and  instructive,  the  boys  would  not  have 
stopped  him  had  they  been  able  to  do  so.  He  pointed  out 
among  the  trees  palmettoes,  oaks,  cocoa-trees,  crab-wood, 
mastic,  and  cypress,  and  among1  the  birds  very  many  varie- 
ties which  they  had  not  secured. 

It  was  during  their  first  night's  halt  that  Captain  Sam- 
my said,  as  he  armed  himself  with  his  formidable  specta- 
cles and  a  book : 

"  I  did  think  when  we  struck  in  here  that  we  could  take 
a  tramp  inland,  but  the  water  is  so  high  that  you  will 
have  to  get  what  information  your  father  insisted  you 
should  have,  from  this  book,"  and  he  handed  them  Profess- 
or Agassiz's  Methods  of  Stitih/  in  Xutiiral  History. 

"Now  this  book  will  tell  you  that  what  is  called  the 
Everglades  consists  of  seven  parallel  lines  of  hummocks, 
each  of  which  has  formed  in  turn  the  Florida  reefs.  After 
they  were  reefs  they  became  keys,  and  then  mainland,  and 
some  do  go  as  far  as  to  say  that  the  whole  point  of  this 
State  was  built  by  them  little  polyps  I  was  telling  you 
about." 

The  boys  had  been  trying  to  resign  themselves,  in  a 
sleepy  way,  to  what  they  supposed  was  a  long  lecture  on 
the  formation  of  that  portion  of  the  State;  but  when  Cap- 
tain. Sammy  ended  thus  abruptly,  and  then  handed  tilt- 
book  to  Dare  that  they  might  study  it  at  their  leisure,  their 
relief  was  as  great  as  their  surprise. 

Dare  had  but  one  question  to  ask.  and  the  subject  of  it 
had  troubled  him  considerably  at  the  time  he  and  Tommy 
were  lost  in  the  forest. 

"Do  you  think  there  are  any  Indians  around  here,  Cap 
tain  Sammy  ?" 

None  of  any  account,  my  lad.  Time  has  been  when 
they  had  their  own  way  down  here,  an',  for  the  matter  of 
that,  pretty  much  all  over  the  State;  but  there's  only  about 
a  couple  of  hundred  left  now,  and  they  don't  show  them- 
selves very  often." 

Before  the  Pearl  was  gotten  under  way  the  next  morn- 
ing Captain  Sammy  gave  Tommy  a  suit  of  clothes  he  had 
been  making  out  of  some  old  ones  of  his.  It  was  a  full 
sailor  rig,  cut  man-of-war  fashion,  and  the  ex-pirate  look- 
ed as  nice  and  trim  in  them  as  if  he  had  been  fitted  out  by 
the  most  expert  tailor  in  the  country. 

The  trip  around  the  lake  was  not  nearly  as  excitm-  or 
interesting  as  they  had  fancied  it  would  be,  save  nou  and 
then  when  they  landed  to  get  some  new  specimen  of  bird 
to  add  to  their  collection,  and  all  hands  were  beginning  to 
weary  of  what  was  becoming  monotonous,  when  Captain 
Sammy  came  to  the  rescue. 

*  Begun  in  Xi>.  K3,  HARPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


555 


••  \\V11  come  to  an  anchor  early  this  afternoon,  and  see 
if  we  can't  lix  the  tender  up  for  a  night's  fishing." 

Tommy  nodded  his  head  approvingly,  for  he-  knew  what 
was  meant  l>y  fishing  by  night:  lint  the  others  looked  at 
the  Captain  in  surprise,  fur  they  hail  not  supposed  the  fish 
would  bite  at  night,  and  Dare  told  (..'aptain  Samim  as 
much. 

"1  don't  suppose  the  fish  would  bite."  said  the  little 
man.  "but  that  don't  make  any  iliH'erence.  for.  \oii  see, 
this  time  we  will  bite  the  lish."  and  then  he  chuckled  over 

what  he  evidently  thought  was  a  very  ^ 1  joke,  until  the 

bo\  s  began  to  fear  he  would  choke. 

\Yilh  some  pieces  of  sloiit  uire  the  little  man  made 
u  ha  I  looked  like  the  grates  such  as  are  used  in  open  coal 
Stoves,  and  when  these  were  done  he  and  Toinm\  \\elit  oil 
.shore,  returning  with  a  quantity  of  pine  knots. 

Four  >hort  spears  with  barbs  on  t  hem  were  put  into  the 
tender,  the  grates  were  liniiir  on  either  side,  and  ('aptain 
Sammy's  arrangements  were  complete. 

ll  was  easy  now  to  understand  what  lie  had  meant  by 
"  biting  the  lisll." 

The  I'mcl  was  brought  to  an  anchor  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  tlie  tires  were  allowed  to  go  out  in  order 
to  save  coal,  and  all  hands  waiteil  for  t  lie1  night  to  come. 

The  evening  proved  to  be  a  ^ood  one  for  the  sport,  for 
there  was  no  moon,  and  the  stars  were  partially  obscured 
by  clouds. 

"  \Ve  couldn't  have  had  a  better  lime  for  the  sport  if 
u  e'd  been  wait  ing  round  here  for  a  in.  in  I  h.  "  sa  id  (  'aptain 
Sammy,  as  lie  gave  the  order  for  t  lie  boat  to  be  hauled  up 
alongside.  "Before  long  I'll  show  you  lads  something 
\on  can  tell  about  when  you  gel  home." 

The  boys. thoilghl  the\  had  eonsiderable  of  that  sort  of 
material  ali-eaily  stowed  away,  but  lbe\  were  eager  for 
an\  thing  novel,  and  they  lost  no  time'  in  getting  on  board 
the  tender. 

Captain   Sammy   assigned   to   each    of  them   a    place    in 
which  to  sit.  for  the  little  craft  was  uncomfortably  crou  d 
rd  with   so  many,  and  lie  ordered  Tommy  to  the  duty  of 
attending  to  the  lires. 

Kach  of  the  others  had  a  spear,  while  Dare  and  Char- 
les both  had  an  oar.  their  task  being  to  row  to  such  place 
as  the  little  man  thought  best  .suited  to  the  sport 

Tommy  bail  provided  himself  uilh  some  hits  of  tarred 
rope  and  paper,  and  by  the  time  Captain  Sammy  had  gi\ 

en    tl filer   to   stop   rowing   lie   had   the   fire   burning 

liercely    ill    the  grates,  with    pieces  of   sheet   iron    over  the 
boat's  side  to  protect  the  wood  work  from  the  tlames. 

"Now  look  down  at  the  lish  !"  exclaimed  Tommy,  in 
delight,  and  the  boys  peered  down  over  the  sides  of  the 
boat. 

Great  was  their  surprise  to  find  that  they  could  see 
through  the  water  so  clearly  as  to  distinguish  even  the 
smallest  pebble  on  the  bottom,  and  fish  of  all  sizes  were 
darting  in  every  direction. 

"Pole  her  along  with  the  boat-hook.  Tommy."  said 
(  'aptain  Sammy,  and  then  he  gave  the  others  an  example 
of  how  the  fish  were  to  be  caught  by  spearing  and  haul- 
ing on  board  a  large-sized  one. 

Tommy  poled  the  boat  gently  along,  at  the  same  time 
keeping  the  fire  burning  brightly,  while  all  hands  en- 
gaged in  the-exciting  sport,  capturing  some  that  required 
all  their  strength  to  land  in  the  boat. 

Even  Captain  Sammy  grew  so  excited  over  the  sport  that 
he  failed  to  notice  that  the  wind,  and  not  Tommy,  was 
urging  the  boat  along,  while  the  sky  was  completely 
overcast  by  the  large  dark  clouds  that  seemed  hurrying 
along  for  the  purpose  of  starting  a  storm. 

"You'll  have  to  stop  now,  for  that's  the  last  of  the 
wood,"  said  Tommy,  as  he  threw  a  large  pine  knot  on  the 
fire,  and  as  he  said  this  Captain  Sammy  started  up  in 
something  very  like  alarm. 

Hurriedly  he  gazed  around,  noticing  for  the  first  time 


the  signs  of  the  coming  storm,  and  the  means  by  which 
the  boat  had  been  propelled. 

A  dense  darkness  shut  out  from  view  everything  beyond 
the  circle  of  light,  and  it  was  impossible  to  see  any  signs 
of  the  little  sic; • 

For  two  or  three  minutes  ('aptain  Sammy  stood  erect 
and  silent,  mentally  scolding  at  his  stupidity  in  not  hoist 
ing  the  signal  lantern  before  leaving  the  steamer,  and 
then  he  seated  himself  in  the  stern  again  with  the  air  of 
one  who.  knowing  he  has  committed  a  grievous  error,  re- 
solves  to  take  desperate  measures  to  repair  the  wrong 
done 

"  Take  up  \  our  oars  and  pull  as  hard  as  you  can."  In- 
said  to  Dare  and  (.'barley,  and  speaking  as  if  he  was  sim- 
ply in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  l'i;i,-l.  "Keep  your 
lires  abla/e  as  long  as  you  can.  Tommy,"  he  added, 
"and  if  you  haven't  got  \\ood  enough,  use  one  of  the 
thwarts." 

l!ut  it  was  more'  ditlicult  to  return  than  even  the  little 
man  had  imagined.  Urged  along  only  by  the  wind  as 
they  had  been,  the  increasing;  roughness  of  the  water  had 
not  been  noticed.  Now  as  ( 'aptain  Sammy  .steered  her  right 
in  the  teeth  of  the  wind,  for  that  was  all  he  had  to  guide 
him  in  his  course,  the  little  boat  danced  and  rocked  on  the 
\\a\es.  \\bile  every  now  and  then,  owing  to  her  hea\\ 
load,  one  would  break  over  the  gunwale. 

"Throw  those  lisli  overboard."  said  Captain  Sammy  to 
Hobby,  who  sal  nearest  him 

"  All  of  them  .'"  asked  l',ohb\  .  in  surprise,  not  willing  to 
lose  such  a  line  canjo. 

"You  may  keep  two;  but  put  1  hi' others  out  as  quick  as 
\ou  can.  Tommy,  bear  a  hand  on  that  bow  oar  with 
(  'barley,  and  wake  her  up." 

Tommy's  position  as  tin-man  had  become  useless,  since 
the  uaves  had  been  lighting  his  lire  from  the  time  the 
start  homeward  bad  been  made,  and  just  before  Captain 
Sammy  spoke  tiny  bad  quenched  the  flames  in  both  grates, 
coming  in  over  the  bow  in  no  small  quantity  at  the  same 
time. 

The  darkness  was  now  so  intense  that  the  old  sailor 
could  not  see  more  than  three  boat-lengths  ahead,  and  he 

i. even  though  he  was  hardly  willing  to  admit  it  to 

himself,  that    their   chances  for   reaching  the  Pearl  that 
night  were  well-nigh  hopeless. 

CIIAITKK  XXIV. 

LOST   ON    LAKE   OKEECHOBEE. 

THERE  was  no  word  spoken  by  those  011  the  boat  save 
now  and  then  as  ('aptain  Sammy  uttered  an  order  in  a 
sharp,  quick  tone  that  told  quite  as  plainly  as  did  the  sur- 
roundings the  peril  in  which  they  were  placed. 

Bobby  was  kept  bailing  steadily,  and  even  then  the  wa- 
ter would  have  increased  faster  than  it  could  have  been 
disposed  of  if  the  little  Captain  had  not  assisted  from  time 
to  time. 

The  wind  was  fast  increasing  in  violence,  until  the 
waves  in  that  inland  sea  appeared  almost  as  high  as  011 
the  ocean,  and  all  the  skill  of  the  helmsman  could  not 
prevent  them  from  breaking  over  the  frail  craft  every 
few  moments. 

The  boys  labored  manfully  at  the  oars,  but  much  of 
their  strength  was  spent  in  vain,  owing  to  the  fact  that  at 
least  half  of  the  time  the  oaken  blades  were  too  high  out 
of  the  water  or  too  deep  in  because  of  the  violence  and 
height  of  the  waves. 

For  nearly  an  hour  this  useless  struggle  was  continued, 
and  nothing  had  been  seen  of  the  Pearl.  Owing  to  the 
fact  that  he  had  no  means  of  directing  his  course,  it  was 
very  probable  that  they  were  headed  in  any  other  than 
the  right  direction,  and  Captain  Sammy  also  knew  very 
well  that  they  might  have  run  within  a  dozen  yards  of 
her  without  being  aware  of  the  fact. 


556 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


It  had  begun  to  rain,  and  if  the  gale  continued  to  in- 
crease, as  indeed  it  promised  to,  the  little  boat  could  not 
ride  another  hour. 

Captain  Sammy  would  have  put  about  and  let  the  wind 
drive  them  on  to  the  shore  some  time  before  he  did  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  danger  that  would  attend  the  turning 
of  the  boat.  Their  only  safety  had  been  to  keep  her  right 
in  the  teeth  of  the  wind;  but  now  that  it  was  certain 
that  they  would  be  swamped  very  soon  as  they  were 
going,  the  little  man  decided  that  the  attempt  must  be 
made. 

It  was  the  only  chance  to  save  their  lives,  and  after 
waiting  for  a  few  moments  he  gave  the  order  to  cease 


rowing. 


'  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  her  around,''  he  shouted  so  as 


to  be  heard  above  the  wind, 
the  instant  I  give  the  word." 


"Be  ready  with  your  oars 


Not  one  of  the  boys  there,  with  the  possible  exception 
of  Bobby,  was  ignorant  of  the  danger  attending  this  at- 
tempt, and  they  knew  the  peril  they  were  in,  and  that 


'EVERY    ONE    SAVE    CAPTAIN    SAMMY    WAS    HURLED    FROM   HIS    SEAT." 


•their  lives  depended  upon  the  promptness  with  which  they 
•obeyed  orders. 

For  a  few  moments  the  wind  forced  the  little  craft  cli- 
srectly  backward,  and  then,  as  her  bow  rose  on  the  wave, 
it  swung  her  around,  flinging  her  down  into  ilie  i-lia-.m 
•<af  waters  sideways. 
"Pull.  Charley! 


Back  water,  Dare!"  cried  Captain 


.Sammy,  sharply,  knowing  only  too  well  that  if  she  was 
not  turned  while  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  she  would  al- 
most certainly  be  swamped  as  she  rose  on  the  next  wave, 
;«nd  at  the  same  time  he  leaned  over,  helping  Dare  with 
.his  oar. 

The  manoeuvre  was  successful,  but  it  was  not  accom- 
plished a  second  too  soon,  since  almost  the  instant  it  was 
•done  the  little  craft  came  up  on  the  crest  of  the  wave, 
and  the  wind  howled  around  them  in  a  gust  that  was  al- 
.most  like  that  of  a  hurricane. 

All  hands  .breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  and  thankfulness. 
It  had  been  -only  a  chance,  but  that  chance  was  success- 
ful, and  whatever  might  be  ahead  of  them,  they  were  safe 
.for  a  few  moments  at  least. 

•"Now  row  just  enough  to  keep  steerage-way  on.  and 


don't  put  out  too  much  strength,"  said  the  little  man,  as 
lie  devoted  all  his  attention  to  keeping  the  boat  full  beforo 
the  wind. 

After  this  order  was  given  there  was  nothing  more  that 
could  be  done,  and  the  party  waited  in  terrible  suspense 
for  the  shock  which  should  tell  them  they  had  reached 
the  land,  while  the  little  craft  scudded  before  the  raging 
gale  as  if  she  had  a  sail  set. 

Of  course  Captain  Sammy  knew  that  if  they  should 
strike  the  shore  of  the  lake  where  there  was  a  hard  beach 
the  boat  would  be  stove,  but  against  such  an  accident 
he  could  take  no  precautions.  He  had  thought  the  mat- 
ter over,  and  decided  that  it  was  far  better  to  wreck  their 
boat  where  they  could  gain  the  laud  than  try  to  save  the 
craft  and  be  swamped. 

The  rain  seemed  to  descend  in  torrents,  and  Tommy 
was  obliged  to  help  Bobby  in  his  work  of  bailing,  or  they 
might  have  been  swamped  by  the  weight  of  rain  water 
that  poured  into  her. 

' '  Of  course  you  know  that  we're  running  for  the  shore," 

said  Captain  Sammy,  after 
they  had  dashed  along  in 
silence  for  some  time,  "and 
when  we  strike  it  will  be 
with  great  force;  so  keep 
yourselves  prepared  for  it. 
After  the  first  shock  tells 
that  she  is  fast,  make  for 
the  land  if  you  can  see  it ;  if 
not,  stand  by  the  boat  until 
I've  made  the  attempt. " 

From  that  time  for  fully 
an  hour — and  in  their  sus- 
pense it  seemed  as  though 
it  must  be  nearly  morning 
— the  party  waited  for  the 
boat  to  strike  the  beach,  all 
knowing  only  too  well  that 
if  they  chanced  to  come 
upon  some  one  of  the  tiny 
islands  instead  of  the  shore, 
there  was  every  danger  of 
their  being  washed  entire- 
ly over  it. 

When  at  last  the  shock 
did  come  every  one  save 
Captain  Sammy  was  hurl- 
ed from  his  seat,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  distinguish 
anything  which  told  that 
they  were  near  the  land. 

The  boat's  bow  was  stove  in  such  a  way  that  she  filled 
with  water  almost  immediately,  and  it  was  as  if  they  had 
been  thrown  into  the  lake. 

Captain  Sammy  was  about  to  leap  over  the  side  to  at- 
tempt to  make  his  way  to  the  land,  if  indeed  they  were  on 
the  shore  of  the  lake,  when  Tommy  scrambled  toward  him, 
and  said,  almost  imploringly: 

"I  can  swim  better  than  you  can,  an'  it  won't  make  so 
much  difference  if  I  should  be  drowned ;  so  let  me  go  first. " 
And  then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  plunged  over 
the  side,  being  immediately  lost  to  view. 

It  would  have  been  useless  for  Tommy  to  have  waited 
for  a  reply,  for  Captain  Sammy  made  none.  It  seemed 
as  if  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  speak,  and  when  he 
passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  it  was  not  all  fresh-water 
that  he  wiped  away. 

Clinging  to  the  sides  of  their  shattered  boat,  the  party 
waited  for  some  sound  which  should  come  from  Tommy 
telling  that  he  had  gained  the  shore  in  safety,  or  for  the 
long  silence  which  would  proclaim  the  horrible  fact  that 
he  had  lost  his  life  in  trying  to  save  others. 

[TO    HE    CONTINUED.] 


JVXY  3,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


557 


7fin^fW*i^~n 
*       ' '  |;  ^ 


Br  S.  B.  MILLS. 


Allegretto 


Wil  -  lie     boy.  \ViI  -lie     boy,  where  arc  you     go  -  ing?  Oh,     let     us      go     with  you  this     sun  -  shi  -  ny     Jay.     I'm 


rrp=^=i  ...  r 


_£?„ 


going    to      the  mea-ilow     to        see  them     a -mow -ing,   I'm      go  -  ing      to     help   the  girls      turn  the   new  hay. 


"f  =»==       ET=j"=z=  =3==s=         ~?^ 

B^=^.-==ib=  3=^  := ~    =H— ^ —E H— 


558 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HAT  a  popping  of  fire-crackers,  and  rattling 
.  .  of  torpedoes,  and  fizzing  of  pin-wheels,  and 
flaring  <if  Unman  candles,  and  fluttering  of  flags, 
and  soaring  of  rockets,  and  shining  of  lanterns, 
and  shouting  of  boys,  and  laughing  of  girls,  and 
tramping  of  processions,  and  booming  of  can- 
nons, and  beat  ing  of  drums,  and  blowing  of  trump- 
ets, and  ringing  of  bells,  and  pealing  of  bugles, 
and  eating  of  cherries  and  berries  and  ice-cream 
will  be  going  on  soon  after  this  number  of  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  shall  issue  forth,  with  its  bright  pictures 
and  pretty  green  cover,  from  the  great  printing- 
house  in  Franklin  Square ! 

There,  children,  what  do  you  think  of  that  for 
a  long  sentence,written  without  stopping  to  take 
breath''  Don't  yon  think  I've  done  it  pretty  well  • 
And  what  will  you  say,  and  what  shall  I,  to  the 
f i  ireigner  just  landed  on  our  shores  who  inquires 
why  all  America,  or  at  least  all  the  United  states. 
which  is  a  good  part  of  America,  is  throwing  up 
its  cap,  and  singing 

"  Hail.  Columbia,  happy  land  ! 
Hail  ye  heroes,  heaven-born  band  !" 

etc.  ?  Why,  of  course,  you  and  I  will  tell  him  that 
we  are  celebrating  Independence-day,  our  coun- 
try's great  day,  and  if  he  wants  to  know  more 
about  it,  we  will  sit  down  under  some  green  tree, 
and  relate,  as  we  may  with  pride,  the  true  story 
of  the  Fourth  of  July. 

Thinking  of  the  dear  and  splendid  day.  little 
friends,  my  thoughts  go  bark  to  the  time  when  1 
myself  was  a  little  girl.  I  lived  just  across  the 
way  from  a  pretty  white  church,  with  tall  pillars 
supporting  the  roof  over  a  broad  porch.  When 
my  sister  and  I  went  to  bed  the  night  before  the 
Fourth  we  were  too  excited  to  go  to  sleep  at 
once,  and  our  dreams  were  full  of  the  next  day. 
And  when  we  wakened,  very,  very  early  in  the 
morning,  to  hear  the  music  pouring  from  all  the 
steeples  in  the  town,  we  flew  to  the  window, 
and  there  was  the  church  garlanded  with  green 
and  decorated  with  bunting,  with  every  white 
column  gayer  than  a  May-pole,  and  banners  un- 
furled from  the  square  tower  which  held  the  bell. 
It  did  not  take  us  long  to  dress,  even  though  we 
were  obliged  to  slip  on  our  dainty  white  muslins, 
with  knots  and  loops  of  red  ribbons  and  blue. 
Ou  the  Fourth  of  July  in  those  days  the  Sunday- 
school  children  started  early  in  the  day,  and  walk- 
ed together  in  a  parade,  escorted  by  soldiers  and 
citizens,  to  a  grove  or  bit  of  woodland.  There 
they  heard  speeches,  and  listened  patiently  and 
reverently  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
and  then  sang  stirring  patriotic  songs,  and  went 
home  at  last,  after  feasting  on  dainties  and  drink- 
ing lemonade,  to  enjoy  themselves  for  the  rest  of 
the  day. 

I  wish  I  could  feel  just  as  glad  as  I  then  did 
when  I  now  lie  down  at  night,  saying,  "  To-mor- 
row will  be  the  Fourth  !"  I  hope  that  my  boys 
and  girls,  every  one  of  them,  are  proud  of  their 
country.  I  hope  they  have  read  the  history  of 
their  nation.  I  am  sure  that  it  will  hurt  none  of 
them,  in  the  pause  about  mid-day,  when  it  is  time 
to  think  of  saving  some  of  the  torpedoes  and 
eniekers  for  use  in  the  evening,  to  gather  around 
papa,  and  beg  him  to  read  aloud  that  glorious 
Declaration,  which  should  be  familiar  to  young 
Americans. 


school,  and  I  really  feel  sorry  for  girls  who  have 
to  leave  home  for  boarding-schools.  MAT  H.  S. 

You  might  make  a  little  mop  with  a  long,  slen- 
der handle,  and  use  it  for  the  troublesome  chim- 
neys A  few  drops  of  ammonia  in  the  water  will 
do  away  with  the  need  of  soap,  and  soft  tissue- 
paper  is  better  than  newspaper  for  polishing 
them.  An  old  silk  handkerchief  polishes  chim- 
neys nicely.  If  any  Little  Housekeeper  can  give 
a  hint  about  this,  she  may  speak. 

SALT  FOAM  YEAST.—  Tie  one  good  handful  of 
hops  in  cloth,  drop  into  three  quarts  of  water 
and  boil  twenty  minutes:  then  take  out  hops, 
and  stir  in  nine  small  or  six  large  potatoes,  peel- 
ed and  grated  raw.  with  one  cup  of  sugar,  one  .if 


salt,  and  one  table-sp 


, 
f  ginger.    Stir  the 


,  -  . 

mixture  constantly  until  it  comes  to  a  bod  ;  then 
take  it  off  immediately,  and  set  it  away  to  cool. 
When  lukewarm,  add  one  half  -pint  of  water 
(o-ood  measured  and  set  it  in  a  moderately  warm 
place  to  rise.  Then  bottle,  and  cork  it  tightly. 

BREAD.—  The  night  before  baking-day  take  one 
and  a  half  pints  of  warm  water  or  potato  water, 
and  mix  a  stiff  batter  with  a  handful  of  corn- 
meal  and  sifted  Hour  and  a  table-spoonful  of  salt  ; 
lastly,  beat  in  thoroughly  one  tea-cupful  of  yeast, 
and  place  in  a  moderately  warm  place  overnight. 
Next  morning  mix  a  new  stiff  batter  of  three 
pints  ort  wo  quarts  <  >f  new  milk,  buttermilk,  clab- 
ber, or  potato  water,  and  mix  stiff  with  sifted 
flour  into  which  beat  thoroughly  the  light  rising 
of  the  night  lief..  re,  and  pour  into  pans  until  half 
full.  as  it  will  rise  to  the-  top.  Bo  not  let  itbecomi 
too  warm.  This  bread  will  stand  any  amount  of 
cold.  In  cold  weather  the  di  nigh  can  be  set  away, 
and  warm  bread  be  baked  whenever  wished. 
The  oftener  the  dough  is  worked,  the  nicer  the 
bread.  When  risen  to  the  tops  of  the  pans,  make 
into  dough,  then  knead,  then  stand  it  away  to 
rise.  When  up  again,  and  ready  to  run  over, 
make  into  loaves  or  rolls  ;  mix  some  lard  in  the 
loaves,  more  in  the  rolls  :  raise  again  :  then  bake 
in  a  hot  oven.  This  yeast  keeps  well,  and  the 
IIP  'ad  never  fails  to  come  :  it  is  very  moist,  white. 
and  fine-grained.  M.  H..S. 

Tow  A  ClTV,  IOWA. 

We  are  a  family  of  four  little  brothers,  and 
when  HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  comes  we  all  want 
to  see  it  at  once.  Even  the  baby  cries  for  what 
he  calls  "  Harper's  Hung  People."  Yesterday. 
when  the  paper  came,  Irving  (the  third  brother) 
hid  it  behind  a  looking-glass,  so  he  could  have  it 
first  when  he  came  from  school. 

My  brother  Harry  drew  a  picture  which  was 
printed  among  the  Wiggles.  We  had  a  double- 
nosed  dog  named  Dash,  but  he  is  in  ]>:ikota  now. 
We  have  a  Maltese  eat,  and  his  name  is  Don.  He 
will  elimb  a'ladder  to  the  kitchen  roof,  and  will 
climb  down  again  head-foremost,  then  jump  into 
Harry's  arms,  and  from  his  arms  to  his  shoulder, 
and  from  his  shoulder  to  the_  clothes-line  post. 
He  is  as  nimble  as  the  midshipman  in  the  crew 
of  the  captain's  gig.  I  am  a  little  Hawkeye  boy 
ten  years  old.  RAY  B. 

COLD  SPRING,  MISSISSIPPI. 

We  live  some  miles  from  the  Mississippi  River. 
Our  post-office  is  in  a  town  on  its  banks.  We  en- 
joy the  sweet,  spring  and  summer,  and  love  to 
gal  her  roses  for  the  vases.  I  have  two  sisters; 
one  just  a  few  weeks  old,  with  blue  eyes  and 
brown  hair.  My  two  brothers  go  with  me  on 
horseback  to  a  school  near  us.  and  a  number  of 
my  cousins  at  tend  there.  We  enjoy  meeting  every 
day.  but  the  pleasantcst  part  is  my  return  home 
ti  i  play  with  my  sister  Kate.  The  paper  reaches 
me  every  Monday,  and  I  like  to  read  the  story 

1,'iiising  the  'Pearl.'"  I  have  a  white-and-gray 
cat  which  we  call  St.  Nicholas.  FANNIE. 


IRVINWOOD,  VIRGINIA. 

I  send  you  my  method  of  making  bread,  as  you 
requested.  I  think  the  Little  Housekeepers  give 
\ery  good  receipts;  several  of  them  mamma  and 

I  have  tried  with  success.    I  think,  t that  there 

are  many  things  besides  cooking  that  little  house- 
keepers'should  learn  ;  so  will  you  or  one  of  th 
L.  H.'stell  me  how  to  clean  lamps  in  t 
easiest  way?  I  have  that  to  do.  and  don't  like 
it.  I  think  there  ought  to  be  a  better  way  than 
with  soap  and  water,  a  piece  of  newspaper,  and 
little  sticks  to  push  the  paper  through  tfce  long 
slim  chimneys  of  the  library  lamps.  I  worked 
out  the  bread  for  mamma  to-day.  We  read 
"Nan"  in  school  in  our  reading  class,  and  we 
were  sorry  when  it  ended.  We  all  think  it  one 
of  the  most  interesting  little  stories  we  ever  read. 
We  also  read  "Cruise  of  the  Canoe  Club."  and 
thought  it  splendid.  We  have  such  a  nice  little 


I  am  a  little  boy  seven  years  old.  I  go  to 
school,  and  get  on  the  Roll  of  Honor.  I  have 
one  brother  and  one  sister  older  than  I  am.  I 
live  in  the  place  where  Governor  A.  H.  Stephens 
died.  The  funeral  procession  was  the  finest  I 
ever  saw ;  I  sat  on  the  fence  to  see  it  pass. 

LAMAR  J.  H. 


was  thin  and  forlorn,  and  as  he  dragged  himself 
into  the  hall  he  said,  with  a  pitiful  bow-wow: 
••That  day  I  ran  away  I  met  a  man,  and  he  took 
me  up  and  went,  off  with  me;  and  he  beat  me. 
and  did  not  give  me  enough  to  eat,  and  after  I 
had  got  very  thin  and  weak  he  gave  me  a  kick  and 
told  me  to  go  off,  and  so  I  came  home.  And  now 
I  have  had  a  lesson,  and  I  will  never  be  lazy  any 
more  "  And  Frisk  kept  his  promise,  and  worked 
hard  ever  after.  LOULIE  S.  B.  (9  years  old). 


AMHSRST,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  saw  the  letter  from  Mamie  L.  B.  telling  about 
her  ,|iiilt.  and  1  want  to  tell  you  I  made  one  too. 
I  began  it  when  I  was  six,  and  finished  it  when  I 
was  eight.  Yon  wanted  some  one  who  had  made 
a  crazy  quilt  to  tell  about  it.  I  have  not  made  a 
quilt,  but  I  have  made  an  ottoman  cover,  and 
am  making  a  sofa  cushion.  I  take  a  square  piece 
of  cotton  cloth,  and  baste  on  it  pieces  of  silk, 
satin  velvet,  or  plush  of  any  shape,  and  then  take 
pieces  of  bright  floss  and  make  a  pretty  fancy 
stitch  where  the  pieces  join.  Will  any  girl  who 
may  make  one  like  this  please  let  me  know  of  her 
success!  I  tried  Katie  MeL.'s  receipt  for  ginger 
snaps,  and  it  was  splendid.  SAKAII  C.  R. 


GKRMANTOWN,  PKNNSVT.VAMA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eleven  years  old.  I  shall  be 
twelve  the  first  day  of  August.  I  have  two  niee 
dogs  :  one  is  a  setter,  and  the  other  is  a  little 
iileiiheim  spaniel.  The  setter's  name  is  Dash, 
and  the  little  dog's  name  is  Brush.  Brush  can 
sit  up.  shake  hands,  and  kiss  you  ;  he  is  a  very 
cute  little  dog. 

I  have  a  very  nice  magic  lantern ;  it  cost  $60. 
I  have  ninety-eight  slides  of  glass  :  they  are  pho- 

:ographs.  I  often  Lrive  exhibitions  for  neighbors 
and  persons  at  our  house.  This  is  the  first  year 
I  ever  took  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  like  it 
very  much.  We  read  it  in  school  as  a  reading 

, 11  ROBERT  1'.  M. 


Nhw    Y..RK   ClTV. 

Here  is  a  little  story  I  have  written  : 

I  l>\\  \UD  AND  FRISK;  OR.  WHAT  COMES 

OF  BEING  LAZY. 

Edward  and  Frisk  were  very  good  friends,  and 
they  played  with  each  other  a  great  deal.  You 
must  know  that  Frisk  was  a  dog,  but  Edward  was 
a  little  boy.  One  day  Edward  called  Frisk  :  they 
were  going  to  pick  up  sticks  for  the  fire,  a'nd  Ed- 
ward took  his  little  cart  with  him.  He  harnessed 
Frisk  to  it,  and  when  it  was  full  of  sticks  h 
best  and  I  would  make  him  draw  it  to  a  place  in  the  woods 
—I  forgot  to  say  that  he  had  gone  to  the  woods 
— and  dump  them  out  in  a  little  heap.  By-and- 
by  Frisk  got  tired  and  warm,  and  he  said,  "I 
want  to  go  home."  "No."  said  Edward,  "you 
are  very  lazy,  and  you  can  not  go  home  yet.' 
This  made  Frisk  very  mad.  and  he  tore  himself 
away  and  ran  off.  When  it  was  time  to  go  hi  >m 
Edward  could  not  find  Frisk  anywhere,  and  In- 
had  to  go  without  him.  One  morning  Edward 
heard  a  noise  :it  the  front,  door,  and  he  went 
down  to  see  what  it  was.  There  was  Frisk ;  he 


FERDINAND,  INDIANA. 

I  am  a  little  orphan  nine  years  old,  and  live 
with  my  brothers  and  sisters.  My  mamma  died 
when  I  was  three  years  old.  and  my  papa  when 
I  was  six.  Our  home  is  a  brick  cottage  in  the 
centre  of  a  large  green  yard.  I  am  the  youngest 
of  three  brothers  and  three  sisters.  My  oldest 
brother  calls  me  his  pet.  I  am  very  glad  of  this. 
But  sometimes  he  vexes  me  a  little;  he  often 
teases  me  when  he  returns  from  a  trip  to  his  pa- 
tients. Then  I  suppose  he  needs  a  little  recrea- 
tion. He  is  a  good  and  kind  brother ;  he  gets  me 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  enjoy  reading  it 
very  much.  The  other  day  my  sister  Fidelia  help- 
ed me  to  make  some  cream  almonds  after  Ame- 
lia F.'s  receipt.  We  flavored  them  with  extract 
of  lo-non,  and  they  were  very  good.  Wishing  all 
my  little  unknown  friends  good-by,  I  am 

ALI.IE  K. 


FI.ATBL-SH,  NKW  YORK. 

I  am  nine  years  old.  I  go  to  school,  and  study 
grammar,  ge'ography.  and  arithmetic,  and  read  in 
the  Fourth  Reader.  This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
written  to  YOUNG  I^OPLE.  I  like  the  paper  very 
n  ill'  '.  I'.ip.i  has  til  ken  il  for  sister  and  me  t'<  r  a 
longtime.  I  did  not  go  to  school  to-day,  because 
I  .-lit  my  finger  badly.  I  will  tell  you  how  I  did 
it.  My  father  bought  me  a  knife.  He  afterward 
went  to  Florida,  and  brought  me  home  some 
sugar-cane.  I  took  some  of  the  cane  to  school 
with  me.  At  recess  I  was  cutting  it.  and  the 
knife  slipped  and  cnt  my  finger. 

I  have  several  pets— a  gold-fish,  two  chickens, 
and  a  cat  named  Dick.  My  fish  I  caught  in  Par- 
degat  Creek.  I  had  to  till  my  hat  with  water  to 
carry  it  home  in.  Mamma  got  a  globe  for  the 
fish  :  it  looks  handsome  in  it.  One  of  my  chick- 
ens is  a  rooster,  the  other  a  hen.  Dick  is  a  know- 
ing old  cat.  and  understands  more  than  most  eats 
do.  Good-by.  EDWIN  A.  II. 

Since  I  wrote  this  letter  my  fish  has  died,  sis- 
ter was  getting  from  the  table,  and  her  chair  hit 
the  stand,  and  broke  it  and  the  globe,  and  a  few 
days  afterward  the  fish  died.  I  have  a  turtle  in 
its  place  ;  I  caught  it  in  the  creek. 


ROXBURV,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  a  little  boy  six  years  old.    I  like  HARPER'S 

YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.    Igotosel 1:  ilike 

it ;  I've  been  since  December.  I  like  to  play  w  il  h 
my  seventy-eight  tops.  I  co  long  walks  with  my 
uncle.  Papa  liked  the  soft  gingerbread  from  your 
receipt.  W.II.K.,JuN. 

Seventy-eight  tops  I    Well,  well ! 


ASH.X,:T..N.      .     . 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  (Jeiiie.  my 
little  brother,  listens  to  the  stories  in  Yoi  N«.  I'i:o- 
PLE  with  eager  eyes.  You  don't  know  how  nineh 
I  enjoyed  the  lovely  story  that  Mrs.  Lillie  wrote 
on  Mendelssohn.  I  think  the  best  stories  you 
have  had  were  "Nan."  "Toby  Tyler."  "Talking 
Leaves. "and  "  The  Cruise  of  the  Canoe  club."  I 
do  not  go  to  school,  because  I  have,  been  very 
sick,  and  I  am  not  going  until  next  year. 

Washington  is  a  very  large  city.  1  have  lived 
here  over  right  years',  so  it  seems  natural  that 
I  should  like  it.  I  love  to  read  Ihc  I'o-t  office 
Box,  and  hope  I  may  see  my  letter  printed  in  it 
too.  Genie  says  if  you  think  lie  can  write  a  let- 


jrr.v  :;,  isss. 


HARPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


559 


ter  well  enough  to  be  printed  he  will  try  to  writ.' 
one.  I  have  a  beautiful  bird  dog,  and  a  sweet 
little  black  and  white  kitty,  whirh  is  very  play- 
ful. aii-1  e-eiiie  has  at  ]<-ast  font-teen  pigeons.  I 
takr  music  lessons,  and  use  /iW/////v,<",-.  Aim  r't<;:,, 
jhthnil.  ami  love  it  dearly.  KATIE  F. 


BALTiiior.t:.  MARYLAND. 

I  am  a  lit  tie-  girl  twelve  years  old.  I  am  taking 
II.\  neKK's  YOINI.  I'KOI-I.K  and  HARI-KU'S  MAI.A- 
ZINE,  for  which  my  papa  has  subscribed  for  m.- 
I  like  YOCNI.;  1'Kori.K  \ory  nine-h  !  <-tter  tiian  the 
\l  o.  I/IM:  Mainina  has'five  children,  four  L-irls 
and  one  hoy:  she  has  a  sweet  Kttle  baby  seven 
weeks  ,, I.],  and  we  haven't  any  name  [or  it  jet. 
We  liad  a  little  hird  last  summer  that  was  shnt 
ding  feathers,  ami  as  s, ,011  as  tin-  leal  h.-rs  began 
lo  eoine  on  it  again  tin-  little  children  lo\eil  it  to 
death  We  were  all  very  sorry,  because  it  \vonld 
obirptoyouandsit  on  your  finger  and  cat  crumbs 
out  of  y.  in r  hand  ;  so  we  got  a  strip  « if  muslin  and 
wrapped  it  up.  ami  Iniried  it  in  a  deep  hole-.  1 
hope  \  i'U  will  print  this,  for  I  would  like  t. .  s,-c  it . 

The  street  on  which  we  live  has  so  many  children 

that  it  is  plajfully  called  Kabj    \\eniic. 

I   .   I    o|;..lf      MS. 


I    :    -         I    I.    Ml,   1111.  \>. 

i i  morning.     I  am  a  little  Michigan   boj  : 

nij-  air.-  is  six  jears  and  eight   months.      I  go   to 

sel I,  ami  rear!  in  the  Third  Header.      Si' I I  is 

almost  two  miles  fr.. m  here.  |  never  went  un 
til  this  term.  \l\  dear  gram  I  mot  her.  who  is  dead 
now.  taught  me  IM  read  at  home  she  died  last 
\o\  ember,  and  the  last  word  she  spoke  was  my 
name  I  like  the  reading  in  Ym  M.  I'l  I.I-LK,  and 

tile    pictures    are    the    cutest    and    prettiest     |    e\e|- 

saw.  I  want  the  children  to  guess  what  it.  was 
I  had  l'"i-  a  pet  last  Bummer.  l!s  mother  was 
killed  in  the  woods  hy  a  dog  one  of  our  hired 
men  lion^hl  it  and  carried  it  home  to  me  in  his 
pocket.  It  would  not  cat  at  all  for  mor.  ilmn  ;, 
week,  and  mamma  says  all  its  family  spend  the 
\\  in'  er  last  in  i: :  so  we  e.i  iini  ii  Dr.  Tanner.  .\  t 
la-l  it  learned  to  sn,'k  a  bottle. and  Would  hold 
the  bottle  with  its  own  little  fore-paws,  jusl  as  if 
they  \\ -t TO  hands  It  had  two' long  sharp  teeth  in 
I  font,  and  would  cat  clover  After  a  t  inn-  it  w  i  nl 
into  our  wood-pile  to  live,  and  would  only  come 
out  when  it  was  hungry.  What  was  it  •• 

Yi  inr  friend.  I )  \\  ^    I 

\Vho  will   guess   right    tii-st  ':     I'.e   ipiick.  that    I 
may  print  jour  answer 


This  is  the-  tirst  letter  I  ever  wrote1  to  you.  I 
am  nine  \.-ars  old. and  will  he  ten  ill  \ngn-t  I 
like  .limn  i  \  BrOWU'8  Stories  how  he  made  a  pig- 
l  rap,  and  l  lie  \oung  gentleman  got  hiM.kcd  in  it. 
I  ha\e  a  t\vm  sister  and  hrother,  hot  h  v-nnger 
than  I  am  My  little  sister's  name  is  Annie,  and 
she  likes  to  dress  up  in  mamma's  silks  ami  trail 
them  around,  while  Paul  would  rather  stm|y. 
They  go  to  school,  and  are  live  years  old  Caul 
is  in  tin-  Second  Header,  and  Annie'  is  in  the' 
"  Pynie-r"  ias  she-  calls  it  i.  and  t  ln-y  hot  h  starter  I 
toe,. i|,,.r  |  have  a  Is.  >  a  sister  Older  than  myse-lf. 

I   do   Hot     J_'ee    to    SI'lleiol,   he'e'aUse'     I     ha\e    not     be'e-ll 

feeling  we'll.     I  have-  no  pets  to  te'll  you  abe.ut. 

I     hope    this    h'tte'l'   is   not    too    lollg    te>    he'    prilltel! 

•  Jood-by.  LILLIE  (.'OYI.K  H. 


I'ATER-ii's,  NKW  JKRKHV. 

I  am  a  boy  thirteen  years  old.  I  live  on  the 

(•lit skirl  s  o,  1 1 ity.  I  have  t  wo  ln-ol  he-rs  ami  a 

little  sister  younger  than  myself.  The  brother 
next  to  me-  is  eleven  years  eeld.  ami  is  much 
larger  than  I.  I  hope  I  won't  a  1\\  a  \  s  ln>  sinalle'r 
than  In':  1  eloift  want  to  be  a  small  man.  My 
little  sister  is  a  beautiful  girl,  four  years  old,  and 
she  doer,  not  seem  to  mind  it  when  in  winter  we 
he.ys  take  her  out  sleigh-riding  and  dump  her  in 
the  snow. 

Beauty  and  Witty  are  our  two  pet  eanaries. 
Witt  y  is  a  female, and  sings  as  sweetly  as  Beam  \ . 
she  lias  four  little  ones.  I  drew  a  pretty  picture 
for  the  fair  that  was  held  in  New  York  fen-  the 
benefit  of  Young  People's  feet.  My  drawing 
teae-her  saiel  it  was  very  good.  \Ve  all  love  HAR- 
PER'S Yen  Ne;  PKOI-I.E  very  much.  WILLIE  R. 

Do  not  mind  being  small,  Willie.  Merit  is  not 
measured  by  inches.  Some  of  the  greatest  men 
the  world  has  ever  seen  have  been  very  small  in 
stature.  Ami  don't  be  discouraged  yet.  for  you 
may  take  a  sudden  start,  and  be  a  tall  fellow 
after  all. 

PHir.AreEi.paiA.  PH\\SVI.VAMA. 

I  want  to  tell  yon  about  some  tableaux  we  had 
einc  night  iu  our  school-room.  We  children  got 
them  up  all  ourselves.  We-  called  it  the  "  I'ie- 
tntv  <  ;a!lery."  First  we  took  a  strong  string,  and 
naileel  it  to  each  side  of  the  room,  on  which  we 
hung  the  curtains.  Then  we  got  a  small  step- 
ladelcr  about  thre-e  feet  high  ;  we*  put  a  chair  on 
eae-h  side,  t  he  back  facing  the  audii-ne-e.  on  which 
we  hung  a  bright,  reel  shawl  s.>  that  it  covered 
both  the  chairs  and  step-ladder.  Then  we  set  a 
K 1-s.iy.ed  gilt  picture-frame  in  place,  and  one- 
person  sat  down  behind  the  step-ladder  so  as  to 
bold  the  frame,  which  rested  on  top  of  the'  lad- 
der.  Then  somebody  was  dressed  np  to  repre- 
sent Summer,  Winter,  George  Washington,  etc., 


whe>  then  sat  eiown  e>n  the  steps  of  the  ladder  so 
that  nothing  hut  the'  head  and  neck  could  he 
seen,  and  then-  was  a  beautiful  painted  pi. -tun-. 
For  background  we  bad  a  dark  screen  :a  Mack 
shawl  would  do  as  welli.  The  effect  was  \cr\ 
pretty. 

I  would  like  to  je.iu  yonr  Young  Housekeepers' 
Society.  I  send  you  the  receipt  for  some  cakes. 
We  call  them  " Conynghams," after  my  brother, 
because  he  likes  th.  in  -o  much.  I  do  not  know- 
any  other  nam.'  for  them.  I  got  the  receipt  in 
Paris : 

six  ounces  of  butter,  two  cups  of  sugar,  the  rind 
of  two  leimms.  thn,  eggs,  three  cups  of  Hour. 

"t up  oi  sweet  milk, a  tea  -pooiit'ul  of  baking 

soda,  ami  two  tea  s] nt'uls  of  cream  of  tartar; 

drop  on  the  pan  in  spoonfuls.  ANN  >  (  . 


Nt«  Y.,HK  Cm-. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRI  ss,    The  following  line-  i.\  a 
little  girl  in  her  sixth  year  may  interest   some"  of 

the'  little'  re-ade-fs  of  II  \Krt.U' s   5TOI   N'.    I'l  or  I   I 

UNDER  TIIK  (illKFAUcinl)  TREK. 

I  nd.T  the  gi-eenw I    1  r.  e, 

\Vhe-re    the    ge'Iitle    hree/e 

slii_rhtly  blows  the-  pretty  le-a\,  - 

<  Hi    the    othe'l'    sj,|e    ol     the    brook 

Sils    the    shl-pheriless    Wild     her    crook: 

The  shadows  fall  on  the-  buttercup  flowers. 
\\  h.-re-  the-  shepherdess  spcniis  h.-r  happj   hours 

•  I    \\     K 


PAULIY'S  IIII.AXD,  Socrn  CAROLINA. 
hi  IB  POSTMISTRESS.     My  godmoiher  sent   me 
TOCNQ  PEOPLI  For  a  Christmas  present.     I  think 

it  was  the  best  present  I  I'eeeive'd  MyfaVeirite 
authors  in  Ihe  paper  are  .lames  Otis.  \\' i  I  :  ,  ,  i 
sf.  >dilal  'I.  and  \I  t  s  lallic.  I  live  by  the'  se-a  side, 
near  . -eor-,.|  o\\  n.  s,,,,!),  i  arolina.  I  ha\e  no 

pets    except     Iny     hens    I     ducks,       \\  c     i|s,.(|     ),, 

have  a  blue  ia\  tor  a  pet.  bur  he  swallow,., I  a 
piece  "I"  a  match,  ami  died  s -times  |  hunt 

foi tter  eggs,  and  also  find  turtle  e'ggs ;  the  tur- 
tles llsnalU  come  OUI  "I  Ihe-  ocean  al I  .Illlle. 

at  high  tiele'.  at  night,  ami  il.-posii   their  eggs.     I 

alll  e'le\  ell  Veal's  oil  I  I  l.-eil  I  he  h,  >l'ses,  hogs,  at  1.1 
hens.  My  father  i-  a  rice  planter  I  h.'Ue  Iwo 

brothers  and  live  sistl  i  -      i l-by. 

li\\  in  I 


M.TST   I'l  i  .s,Nr.  |.,^  ,. 

T  ha\.'  been  wanting  to  write  to  Ihe   I'osnnjs- 

'!'  a   l-.ng  liiae-.  but    t,a\e  been   afraid    that 

th.  r.    were  so  many  letters  that  mine  would  not 

get    a  el ce  1  o  show    i  I  sell         1  ha  \  e  be-  n   sie'k  for 

over  a  week  with  asthma,  and  ha\e  ii  s,,  mneh 
that  papa  says  1  had  be'tter  go  to  I'olorado  1 
think  "  1,'aising  the'  •  Pearl'  "  is  very  nice',  but  I 
liked  "Nan"  beit.-r  Why  elo.-s  not  Mrs  |.i||j,. 
write  some  more  interesting  slories1.-  I  ha\e  a 

great  many  dolls;  their  names  are  lioiothea.  Mar 

tha.  \niceu  Victoria,  and  s, .\eral  olhers.  Please' 
put  my  name'  down  with  Hi.'  Little-  Housckcep- 
e-rs.  I  am  geeing  to  g.-t  a  hook  ami  copy  all  the 
receipts.  SI-SIE  u. 

HIM;  PoSTMISTKBSS,  The  other  day.  when 
mamma.  Kdgai-.  ami  I  we're  e.ut  walking,  we  saw 
a  young  robin  on  the-  grass  near  a  ne-sl.  ami 
mamma  tlieiught  he  must  have  fallen  out  of  tlie 
ne'st.  e.r  the-  e'reiws  hail  earni-el  him  .iff  and 
elropped  him  The  n.-st  was  on  a  very  high  tree', 
but  still  he  was  not  hurl  Fd gar  picked  the  robin 
up,  and  I  hunted  up  a  cage,  and  we  put  him  in 
At  first  we  ted  him  bread  soaked  in  water,  but 
Aunt  Molly  thought  perhaps  thai  would  not  be 
good  for  him,  and  we  gave-  him  just  worms.  lie 
got  weaker  ami  weaker,  and  finally  died.  \\  be  n 
we  first  got  him  our  gardener  said  that  In'  hail 
seen  in  a  paper  that  some  man  gave  a  young 
robin  eighty  we. rms  a  day.  ami  to  another  lie  gave 
eighteen,  and  that  one  starved  to  death:  so  \\  e 
thought  maybe-  ours  did.  i  'an  you  tell  me  bow 
to  feed  another  one,  if  we  should  catch  him  ?  I 
am  having  a  dreadful  time  at  school  now— the 
examination  weeks,  oh.  but  I'll  be  glad  when 
we-  let  sehe.ol  out !  and  it  has  been  so  warm  here 
the  last  few  days  that  we  have  been  nearly  roast- 
ed. ELLIE  E. 

It  would  be  better  to  put  the  robin  back  in  tin- 
nest  with  its  mother  than  te.  try  to  feed  it  your- 
self, should  you  ever  find  another  in  the  same- 
plight.  It  takes  an  immense  amount  of  food  to 
satisfy  a  hungry  young  birdling,  whose  bill  is  wide 
open  all  day.  The  parent  birds  are  kept  very  busy 
catching  flies  and  worms  to  feed  their  children. 
I  want  to  beg  my  boys  and  girls  to  say  No  very 
strongly  and  promptly  when  people  ask  tin  in  to 
catch  ami  kill  song-birds  cither  for  the  market 
or  the  milliner.  I  hear  that  thousands  of  tin- 
pretty  darlings  an-  being  captured  that  they  may 
help  trim  ladies'  bonnets.  I  want  you  to  be  bird- 
protectors,  and  de-fend  the  little  warblers  who 
do  so  much  to  make  our  homes  pleasant. 


Charming  little-  letters  have  been  received  from 
Hattie  I.  P.,  Aililiv  IV.  (thanks  for  the  four-leaved 
clover),  Nannie  II.  (thanks  for  the  magnolia  buds 
and  flowersi.  I  i//ir  I!..  Tessa  F.,  Charlps  IK,  Arrh- 
er  H.,  Blanche  S.  i  write  again,  deari,  Katie  S., 


(icoree  I'.  I.,  Edith  R..Jriinie  T. .  Itprthii  L.,  Cellu 
A.  I!. .Mary  K.  F.,  Daisy  H.,  Llllle  A.  I,,  i  I'm  s,,  glad 

to  hear  you  have  a  little  sisteri.  Fannip  .1..  N.  F., 
Nettie  May  I'..  Iharlidti-  A.  I!..  Miiinii-  I,.,  D.  O.  S., 
l,}iim-<,..  I.ota  A..('nrri(-  (.'..(  lai.i  V.  I'..  M.,  P.  T., 
Jessie  (.'..and  Kalpli  S.  I.'.  A.  It..  li,,x  4r,'.  (,'al- 
lipolis.  Ohio,  would  like  to  correspond  with  some- 
body who  has  a  genuine  Indian  be.wl  to  exchange. 
(.  S.  Crane,  41  West  Foru  tiflh  Street,  New 
fork,  edits  and  publishes  a  pretty  little  amateur 
paper  call.  .1  /'  s,  .nl/l  /;„.,/-,  t.  KrtdicS.,  ].v>Nina 
\\enue.  St.  Paul.  Minnesota,  prints  'I'll,  tit.  Paul 
*t<ir.  a  nice-  little  four  -page  paper.  These  young 
g.iii lein.-n  \voiild  like  to  hear  from  others  who 
publish  amateur  papers,  \aunie  D.'s  address,  for 
which  several  correspondents  have  asked, is  Nan- 
nie-  I>'iTialdson.  (.rccnville,  Sleuth  ('arolina. — In 

the  exchange notii t  Miss  H.  Kva  Srott,  printed 

in  \o  is'.i.  the  word  "stamps"  was  used  instead 
of-  postmarks."    she  has. ..so  postmarks  to  offer 

fe.r  exchange,  ami  her  a. lib  ess  has  I ,,  changed 

to  No  li-.'i;  Tenth  Street.  N.  E.,  Washington,  D.  C. 


h:\i-hange-rs  \\  ill  confer  a  tave.r  by  writing  their 
offers  always  on  a  s. -parale  sheet  of  paper,  in- 
stead of  em  the  same-  on.'  with  letters,  wiggles, 
or  answers  to  puzzles. 


ri'X/.I.ES  FI;oM  TOTTNQ  CONTRIBUTORS. 
X...  1. 

E  N  I  l.  M    \. 

My  first  is  in  new.  but  not  in  old. 
My  second  is  in  silver,  not  hi  gold. 
My  third  is  in  wre-n,  but  not  in  robin. 
My  fourth  is  in  to\ .  bin  mil  in  bobbin. 
My  fifth  is  in  owl.  but  not  in  ha  w  k 
My  sixth  is  iii  run.  but  not  in  walk 
\l  \  seve-nth  is  in  kind,  but  not  in  pity. 
My  whe'le  is  the  name  e.l  a  In  aulilnl  city. 
JI.SKI-H  (  on  i  \ 


N.I.  'J. 

FIVK    I    \s\      III  \V.ONI)S. 

I.-1.  A  letter.  V  skill.  :i.  A  part  of  milk.  -I. 
A  sailor.  :..  A  letter. 

•.'  I.  In  hiss.  •!.  Devoured.  3.  A  mighty  agent. 
I  Part  of  the  body.  ."•  In  sweetmeat 

3. — 1.  A  consonant.  '.'  A  \ehiele  :i  A  military 
man.  4.  An  a. herb.  .%  A  consonant. 

4. — 1.  A  letter.  '.'  A  hole.  :i.  Flowing  water. 
4.  A  number,  a.  A  letter. 

:.  I.  A  letter.  2.  A  verb.  :j.  An  animal.  4. 
An  adjective,  a.  A  It  ilia  F.  II.  WALTON. 


N...  :i. 

AN   ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  vegetable.  2.  A  wild  flower.  3.  A  disk  of 
gold.  4.  A  flower  with  a  maiden's  name.  5.  A 
noxiotis  plant.  6.  A  fashionable  figure  in  deco- 
rative art.  The  initials  form  the  name  of  a  great 
benefactor.  EMMY  LAY. 


ANSWERS  TO  PI'ZZUCS  IN  No.  189. 
No.  1.  San  Francisco.  Baltimore.  St.  Louis.  New 

York.    Sacramento.    Annapolis. 
No.  i!.  Fourth  of  July. 

No.  3.  H   E    A   R  T 

E   A  (i   E  R 

AGONY 

R    K    N    T    S 

T   K  Y    S    T 
No.  4.  Latin.    Invalid. 


Answer  to  East  River  Bridge  Puzzle  on  page 
.v,'s,,f  NO.  190: 

Monograms. — 1.  Kiiigsiey  i  William  C.\  project- 
or e.f  Brooklyn  Bridge.  -J.  Koebling  (Washing- 
ton), engineer  of  bridge.  3.  Edson  iFranklim, 
Mayor  of  New  York.  4.  Low  (Seth),  Mayor  of 
Brooklyn. 

Names  of  bridges  from  letters  numbered— 1. 
"St.  Louis.1'  2.  "Columbia,11  railroad  bridge 
across  Susquehanna  Valley.  3.  "Suspension," 
Niagara.  4.  "London,11  over  Thames  River.  5. 
"(iirard  Avenue,"  over  Schuylkill  River,  Phila- 
ilelphia 

Rafts.— 1.  Columbus.  3.  Harrisburg.  3.  Elgin. 
4  savannah.  5.  Toronto.  6.  East.  7.  Rome.  8. 
Alabama,  n.  Austin,  in.  Racine.  11.  Tennessee. 
1^'.  Hudson.  13.  I'tah.  14.  Richmond. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Frank  Iiriscoll.  Walter  Pyle,  Ida  and  Alex. 
Hequembourg.  rarrie  C.  Howard,  Samuel  Bran- 
se.n  S  \  Rousseau.  Arthur  A.  Beehe,  M.  F.  C., 
Bessie  Ilixon.  c  lara  pc.-t.  Max  Babli.  Lena  B.  W., 
Bantam.  Edith  Howard.  Libhie  Pritchard.  Lizzie 
A.  Prentice.  Frankie  G.  Prentice.  Alicia  Fitz-sim- 
ons,  W.  V  .  Lulu  Pease,  .lohn  P.riggs.  Arthur  Will- 
iamson, Fritz  Shultz,  Donald  Comstock.  Pierre 
K.,  Will  Hamilton,  Paul  Caswell,  and  Tom  Tucker. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  °2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


560 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  POETRY  MACHINE. 

BY  GEORGE  FOLSOM. 

PEOPLE  who  never  write  poetry  have  no  idea  what  a  me- 
chanical business  it  sometimes  is.     It  would  be  quite  im- 
possible for  them  to  imagine  how  a  poet  will  twist  and  turn  his 


MISS  FRET  AND  MISS  LAUGH. 

BY  M.  E.  SANGSTER. 

CRIES  little  Mips  Fret, 
In  a  very  great  pet : 

"  I  hate  this  warm  weather :  it's  horrid  to  tan. 
It  scorches  niv  no>e, 
And  it  blisters  my  toes, 
And  wherever  I  go  I  must  carry  a  fan." 

Chirps  little  Miss  Laugh  : 

"  Why,  I  couldn't  tell  half 
The  fun  I  am  having  this  bright  summer  day. 

I  sing  through   the  hours, 

I  cull  pretty  flowers, 
And  ride  like  a  queen  on  the  sweet-smelling  hay." 


syllables,  putting  them  first 
here  and  then  there,  and  trans- 
posing lines  in  order  to  get  the 
best  effect.  Some  idea  of  this 
process  may  be  had  by  study- 
ing the  "poetry  machine." 

The  three  wheels  in  our  il- 
lustration contain  a  stanza  of 
four  lines  rhyming  in  couplets, 
each  line  being  divided  into 
three  sections.  There  are  four 
arms  to  each  wheel,  and  each 
one  contains  a  one-third  sec- 
tion of  a  line.  The  stanza  can 
be  worked  so  that  it  may  be 
read  in  twelve  different  forms, 
with  no  section  occupying  the 
same  position  more  than  ouce, 
and  while  still  rhyming  in 
couplets  it  will  in  each  dis- 
tinct form  have  the  same  gen- 
eral meaning. 

To  show  the  method  of  work- 
ing the  wheels  we  give  a  small 
diagram,  which  shows  the  po- 
sition for  making  one  line  with 
three  sections.  When  the 
wheels  are  placed  in  this  po- 
sition read  straight  across. 

After  you  decide  which  are 
the  proper  sections  for  one 
form,  you  will  with  care  he 
able  perhaps  to  make  all  of 
the  changes.  It  will  be  neces- 
sary, of  course,  either  to  cut 
out  the  wheels  or  make  copies 
of  them  for  working  the  pu/- 
zle.  When  you  have  made  the 
stanza  pick  out  the  letters  in- 
closed in  the  diamond-shaped 
frames,  and  by  transposing 
them  you  will  find  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  day  on  which  the 
events  mentioned  in  the  stan- 
za are  supposed  to  occur. 


PssL 

;i! '•>™..-J%  •• -*2&:      &         -- >^*.*r  JL -.^ 


YOUNG  PEOPLE' 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  193. 


Tuesday,  July  10, 1883. 


PCBLISHED  BV  11AUPEU  Ai  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


t,  1SS."!,  by  HARPKB  Jc  BROTUK&S. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


'KEEP    STILL,  ROBBIE!'   SHE   CRIED." 


"IN  HONOR  BOUND." 

BY  LUCY  C.  LILLIE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "NAN,"  ETC.,  ETC. 

II. 

'   4  MY,"  Miss  Esther  began  at  once,  "  why  don't  you  go 
J\.  out  on  such  a  fine  day,  instead  of  staying  in  this 
warm  room  ?" 

Amy  colored  and  looked  troubled. 
"  Oh,  Miss  Esther"— she  began. 

''I  know,"  said  the  teacher.  "You  think  the  girls 
don't  want  you  with  them.  Isn't  that  it,  my  dear?  Now 
let  me  tell  you,  Amy,  you  are  making  a  great  mistake. 
Why  didn't  you  join  with  them  in  their  fair  ?  Don't  you 
know  that  girls  feel  such  things  very  keenly  2" 


"  I  know,"  Amy  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  turning  away 
her  eyes.  Miss  Esther  sat  down,  and  took  one  of  the  lit- 
tle girl's  cold  hands  in  hers. 

"You  see,  dear,"  she  said,  very  gently,  "they  may 
perhaps  misjudge  you ;  they  may  think" — Miss  Esther 
paused,  it  was  so  hard  to  suggest  that  they  considered  her 
mean.  Evidently  the  idea  had  not  occurred  to  Amy  her- 
self, for  she  only  turned  a  troubled  but  wondering  gaze 
around  upon  Miss  Esther. 

"  They  do  not  like  me,"  she  said,  simply. 

"Perhaps  that  is  true,"  assented  the  teacher.  "But 
ask  yourself  why,  dear.  It  is  only  because  you  have  kept 
out  of  their  sports  whenever  you  would  have  had — to  go 
to  any  expense.  Do  you  see,  my  child  ?" 

Amy  looked  down,  her  cheeks  flushing  painfully.     She 


562 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


had  not  failed  to  notice  Miss  Esther's  glance  at  her  expen- 
sive costume  of  silk  and  crape — one  of  the  half-dozen  rich 
dresses  provided  for  her  first  mourning. 

"I  know,''  she  said,  in  a  low,  quiet  voice.  "I  do  not 
want  to  spend  the  money,  and  as  I  don't  do  that,  I  pre- 
fer to  keep  away  from  the  treats.  I  will  go  to  the  fair 
and  buy  some  things,"  she  added,  quickly  looking  up. 
"That  is,  if  they  have  what  I  want." 

Miss  Esther  felt  suddenly  a  sense  of  despair.  Strongly 
against  her  will  she  felt  almost  convinced  that  Kitty's 
point  of  view  was  right.  Amy  must  be  naturally  miser- 
ly, for  it  was  well  known  in  the  school  that  her  guardian's 
allowance  was  most,  liberal,  and  just  how  liberal  only 
Miss  Harrington,  and  Miss  Esther  knew.  It  was  difficult 
as  a  teacher  to  know  how  to  advise  the  child — how  to 
advocate  spending,  and  how  to  impress  upon  her  the  fault 
in  extravagance,  and  yet  Miss  Esther  felt  something  ought 
to  be  said. 

"I  hope  you  will  buy  at  the  fair.  Amy,"  she  said  at 
last.  "  Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  the.  motto,  '  In  hon- 
or bound  ?' " 

"It  means  that  we  ought  to  do  what  is  right,  because  it 
is  expected  of  us,  doesn't  it  i" 

"Not  exactly.  It  means,  I  think,  that  we  all  have  pe- 
culiar duties  to  the  world  and  to  society  which  we  must 
perform  because  we  are  what  we  are.  If  I  am  rich,  I 
must  give  to  the  poor  and  to  my  friends  because  I  owe  it 
them  ;  if  I  am  needed  as  a  companion  or  a  friend,  the 
thing  within  me  which  makes  me  anyway  a  worthy  com- 
panion or  friend  calls  upon  me  to  live  up  to  it.  A  great 
general  owes  the  best  kind  of  generalship  to  his  soldiers, 
a  mother  to  her  children,  even  a  school-girl  to  her  com- 
panions." 

"Yes,"  assented  Amy,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  dear."  said  Miss  Esther,  standing  up,  "  you  and 
I  must  go  to  the  fair  together  this  afternoon.  I  hope  you 
will  contrive  to  enjoy  it." 

Amy  smiled  in  her  wistful  way  upon  the  young  teach- 
er, and  as  soon  as  she  was  left  alone  she  put  away  her 
portfolio,  and  from  the  school  desk  drew  out  the  little 
note  returning  her  fifty  cents  which  Kitty  had  written  so 
triumphantly  that  morning.  One  or  two  hot  tears  fell 
upon  it,  and  into  the  girl's  face  a  hard  sad  look  came 
which  had  not  been  there  while  Miss  Esther  was  talking, 
but  she  dashed  the  tears  away  presently,  and  returned 
more  eagerly  than  ever  to  her  writing.  Outside  she 
could  hear  the  gay  voices  and  laughter  of  the  girls  as  they 
busied  themselves  over  their  tables  and  felt  the  bright 
influence  of  the  lovely  day.  It  was  hard  to  stay  in- 
doors. Amy  could  remember  long  happy  June  days  like 
this  so  far  as  sky  and  earth  were  concerned,  but  oh!  how 
unlike  it  in  other  matters! 

"I  believe,"  she  said  to  herself  at  last,  "I'll  ask  Miss 
Barrington's  permission  to  go  down  to  the  beach  a  little 
while.  There  I  can  talk  to  old  Andy  anyway." 

Ten  minutes  later  Amy  was  hurrying  off  down  the 
white  dusty  road  to  the  sea-shore  and  the  cottage  of  an 
old  fisherman  whose  acquaintance  she  had  made  early 
in  the  year.  Miss  Barrington's  girls  were  allowed  more 
freedom  than  many  critics  of  her  school  thought  wise, 
but  it  was  equally  well  known  that  not  one  of  her  pupils 
had  ever  taken  advantage  of  her  freedom  to  break  a 
school  rule  or  do  anything  to  discredit  herself  or  her 
teacher.  The  school  was  like  a  home,  the  girls  and  their 
teachers  like  a  family,  and  all  was  regulated  by  the  same 
principles  which  would  govern  a  well-ordered  household. 

Miss  Barrington  knew  that  Amy  Lee  was  fond  of  talk- 
ing to  the  old  fisherman's  wife  and  crippled  daughter, 
and  as,  so  far,  no  harm  had  resulted,  she  had  allowed  the 
lonely  little  girl  to  go  down  to  the  cottage  an  hour  or  two 
at  a  time  to  amuse  them  and  be  herself  amused.  Had  she 
known  how  often  of  late  the  humble  cottage  had  seem- 
ed to  the  child  a  paradise  compared  to  the  school-room, 


where  she  was  scorned  and  slighted  on  every  possible 
occasion  by  the  girls,  the  good  teacher  would  have  been 
surprised  and  pained.  Even  the  tenderest  mother  of  a 
familv  can  not  always  reach  every  wounded  place,  and 
Amy,  so  far,  had  never  complained,  never  broken  rules, 
and  never  missed  in  her  classes,  so  that  the  little  school 
cabal  had  risen  and  been  acted  upon  without  the  princi- 
pal having  suspected  its  existence. 

III. 

"There  she  comes,  girls;  now  don't  forget!" 

So  spoke  Kitty  Jenners  from  her  table  at  the  fair  that 
afternoon  about  four  o'clock.  The  fair  had  been  a  great 
success.  Although  Miss  Barrington  had  insisted  that 
only  the  families  of  pupils  should  be  invited,  they  had 
come  in  numbers  quite  sufficient  to  make  the  scene  gay 
aiid  trade  at  the  tables  very  brisk. 

During  the  afternoon  not  a  few  had  whispered  inqui- 
ries as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Mr.  Symes's  rich  ward,  re- 
ports of  Amy's  wealth  having  spread  far  and  wide.  The 
answers  given,  if  not  exactly  unkind,  were  quite  enough 
to  prejudice  the  popular  mind  against  poor  Aim*,  who,  as 
Kitty  spoke,  was  slowly  making  her  way  through  the  LMV 
den  and  toward  the  shady  part  of  the  lawn,  where  the 
fair  was  gayly  in  progress. 

lu  her  black  dress,  and  with  the  sad  look  now  habitual 
to  her  in  her  eyes,  she  certainly  did  not  seem  to  be  a  very 
good  object  for  the  shafts  of  sarcasm  the  girls  had  pre- 
pared. When,  as  she  came  up  a  little  timidly  to  one  table, 
saving  quietly,  "  Have  you  any  aprons  ?"  and  trying  to 
smile,  Kitty's  heart  nearly  smote  her,  but  Hattie,  whose 
malicious  eyes  were  dancing,  hurried  forward. 

"  Oh  yes, "she  said,  in  bland  tones;  "here  are  aprons, 
Amy,"  and  she  displayed  two  of  the  kind  known  as 
"  kitchen  aprons,"  which  Kitty  had  made. 

Amy  glanced  at  them,  and  took  out  her  purse. 

"  How  much  ?"  she  said,  pleasantly. 

"Sixteen  dollars — weren't  they  ?"  Hattie  said,  trying  to 
repress  her  laughter,  and  looking  intently  at  Kitty. 

"  Sixteen, "asserted  the  commander. 

Amy  looked  in  surprise  at  the  group  of  girls,  but  she 
entirely  failed  to  understand  the  point  of  their  conduct. 

"How  much  is  that  hook  rack  ?"  she  said,  pointing  to 
a  small  cheap-looking  stand. 

It  was  in  May's  department. 

"Twenty-five  dollars,"  answered  May,  fairly  crimson 
from  a  desire  to  laugh. 

Amy  stood  still  a  moment,  with  a  strange,  wistful,  per- 
plexed look  deepening  to  pain  in  her  dark  eyes  and  about 
the  thin  lines  of  her  mouth.  That  something  was  wrong 
she  knew  very  well.  She  had  known  that  when  they 
sent  her  back  her  money;  but  she  had  determined  to 
please  Miss  Esther  by  ignoring  the  slight,  and  going  as  a 
visitor  to  the  fair.  Brought  up  though  she  had  been  on 
a  California  ranch,  far  away  from  the  society  of  other 
girls  of  her  age  and  station,  Amy  was  a  lady  to  the  core 
of  her  simple  unsuspecting  heart;  and  now  she  felt  in- 
stinctively that  some  vulgar  weapon  of  ridicule  was  lev- 
elled against  her,  for  what  reason  she  failed  to  under- 
stand. 

"If  you  have  anything — useful,"  she  said  at  last,  mak- 
ing a  desperate  effort  to  retain  control  over  her  voice  and 
keep  down  the  color  from  her  cheeks,  "for  about  five  dol- 
lars, I'd  like  to  have  it,  please." 

Hattie's  face  glowed  with  triumph  as  she  said,  in  her 
most,  cutting  tones: 

"Very  sorry  indeed,  Miss  Rodman;  but,  you  see,  there 
is  really  nothing  for  you  to  buy.  Knowing  that  you  in- 
tended to  honor  us  to-day,  we  felt  obliged  to  procure  arti- 
cles of  the  most  luxurious  and  expensive  kind.  We  had 
not  the  least  idea  you  ever  possessed  so  insignificant  a 
thing  as  a  five-dollar  note.  Isn't  it  a  pity  ?" 

Arny  stood  still  for  a  moment,  looking  from  one  to  an- 


JULY  10,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


563 


other  of  the  girls,  whose  faces  told  her  all  that  she  needed 
to  know. 

This  final  slight  had  been  intended,  discussed,  re- 
hearsed, no  doubt.  Amy  understood  it  all  now,  and,  with 
a  rush  of  feeling  which  she  vainly  strove  to  master,  she 
realized  how  much  the  girls  must  have  despised  her  to  do 
tliis  thing,  and  how  completely  in  so  doing  they  had  add- 
ed the  last  stone  to  the  barrier  between  herself  and  them. 

She  st 1  still,  as  I  say,  looking  from  one  to  the  other  in 

a  silence  the  moaning  of  which  they  all  knew  as  well  as 
she  did;  and  then,  without  a  word  further,  she  turned  very 
slowly  and  walked  away. 

Amy  did  not  care  particularly  whore  she  went.  The 
miserable  aching  feeling  was  so  heavy  upon  her  heart  that 
she  felt  as  though  it  burdened  her  steps,  and  it  was  only 
in  a  blind  sort  of  way  that  she  went  down  to  the  old  iish 
erman's  cottage,  where  his  daughter  sat  near  the  window 
watching  for  her  father's  return  from  a  place  called  the 
Keel's,  where  he  had  more  than  once  in  summer-time 
rowed  Miss  Harrington's  girls. 

Hetty  ,Io\ee.  the  lisliern  la  n's  (laughter,  gave  Amy  the 
cheeriest  possible  welcome,  and  in  talking  to  the  crippled 
girl  Amy  almost  forgot  her  own  depression.  But  as  it 

grew  later,  and  above  all  as  a  storm  see d  to  be  rising, 

she  recalled  the  miserable  fact  that  she  must  return  to  the 
school,  and  go  among  girls  who  were  not  her  friends,  p.-r 
haps  to  submit  lo  fresh  indignities  from  them. 

"Good -by,  iletu,"  sin-  said  at  last,  standing  up  and 
kissing  the  poor  girl's  thin  cheek  tenderly.  "I  wish  I 
could  wait  and  see  your  father  come  back  with  the  Iish. 
but  I  can't.  I'm  going  to  walk  home  on  the  shore  road, 
though." 

"  Then,  perhaps,"  said  Hetty,  "you  will  see  him.  Miss 
Barnes's  little  brother  went  with  him  to-day,  so  he'll  be 
sure  not  to  stay  late." 

"  And  it's  beginning  to  rain  already,"  said  Amy.  look- 
ing up  in  some  dismay  at  the  fast-darkening  sky;  hut  she 
was  not  particularly  mindful  of  weather.  More  than  once 
she  had  received  a  reprimand  from  her  teachers  for  going 
out  without  sufficient  protection,  and  now  she  thought  a 
little  ruefully  of  her  thin  boots,  and  her  silk  dress,  and  the 
feathers  in  her  hat.  But  other  things  lay  too  deeply  in  her 
heart  to  make  her  more  than  half  conscious,  as  she  walked 
along  the  shore  road,  that  the  storm  had  begun,  and  that 
the  sky  grew  angrier  every  instant,  and  the  sea  more  tur- 
bulent. One  or  two  people  passed  her,  hurrying  from  their 
boat-houses,  and  glancing  in  some  surprise  at  the  daintily 
dressed  little  maiden,  whose  sad  eyes  seemed  so  absent, 
and  whose  whole  mind  was  unconscious  of  the  storm. 
But  when  the  full  torrent  of  rain  came  down  Amy  had  the 
road  to  herself;  not  a  creature  was  in  sight,  and  the  wind 
and  rain  were,  beating  furiously  about  her. 

Amy  quickened  her  steps — began,  indeed,  to  run ;  but  she 
could  not  forbear  glancing  now  and  then  at  the  wild  wa- 
ters to  the  right,  and  wondering  how  Mr.  Joyce  would 
make  out  oil  his  homeward  way.  Then  suddenly  a  shrill 
cry  reached  her  ears.  She  stood  still,  straining  her  gaze 
in  the  direction  whence  it  came. 

The  waves  were  black  and  wild,  and  the  sky  full  of 
lurid  lights.  But  for  all  this,  and  her  near-sightedness, 
Amy  could  see  on  the  breast  of  the  angry  water  a  small 
boat  in  which  a  child's  figure  was  standing  helplessly. 

Not  then,  and  indeed  not  until  long  afterward,  was 
Amy  conscious  that,  dimly,  Miss  Esther's  words  and  those 
of  the  motto  came  into  her  half-bewildered  mind.  She 
stood  there  half  a  moment  in  a  desperate  silence,  with  a 
fierce  straining  of  every  nerve,  as  she  thought  what  she 
could  do,  and  how  to  do  it.  Up  and  down  the  long  wind 
and  rain  blown  road  there  was  no  one  in  view — only  that 
little  tossing  boat,  with  the  helpless  child's  figure  standing 
in  it. 

Afterward  Amy  could  not  remember  how  she  contrived 
to  get  into  the  boat-house  she  had  just  passed,  and  pull 


out  one  of  the  boats.  Happily  she  had  been  brought  up 
to  row,  and  she  did  not  think  of  fear  as  she  pusb.ed.out  on 
the  angry  water  toward  the  child,  nor  did  she  see  and  hear 
the  people  who  were  hastening  down  the  cliff  and  call- 
ing to  her  to  stop.  One  thought,  and  one  only,  possess- 
ed her  mind:  Hattie's  little  brother,  separated  from  old 
Joyce  by  some  strange  chance,  was  out  there  alone,  and 
in  one  njinute  more  would  be  battling  with  the  waves 
themselves. 

He  was  a  little  happy-hearted,  fair-haired  child,  whom 
Amy  had  often  seen  with  his  mother  when  she  came  out 
to  the  school,  and  she  thought  wildly  of  what  it  would 
be  lo  them  all  at  tin-  gray  house  in  the  village  were  she 
to  fail  in  bringing  him  back  to  them. 

"  Keep  still,  Robbie  |"  she  cried  out,  as  with  a  desperate 

effort  she  roued  •an-r  to  the  child.  The  little  fellow 

laughed  aloud  with  delight.  When  she  came  to  recall  it 
all  Amy  could  dimly  remember  a  terrible  clap  of  thunder, 
the  sweeping  away  of  her  oars,  and  then  it  seemed  as 
though  a  dark  veil  fell,  and  in  a  moment  she  was  strug- 
gling in  the  water  with  the  child's  fair  hair  in  her  hands. 

[lO    UE    CONTINfKl).] 


SKA-CUCUMBERS. 

UY  SARAH  COOPER. 

THE  shore  of  Maine,  you  will  remember,  is  very  un- 
even, being  broken  by  a  succession  of  sharp  promon- 
tories and  quiet  bays,  and  skirted  with  a  fringe  of  lovely 
islands.  Here  is  an  endless  variety  of  bold  rocky  dill's, 
of  secluded  caves  and  quiet  little  pools,  with  the  pleasing 
surprise  of  occasional  short  sandy  beaches.  We  can 
scarcely  imagine  a  shore  better  lilted  than  this  to  suit  the 
various  tastes  of  the  sea  creatures,  and  our  search  here  is 
pretty  sure  to  he  rewarded  by  finding  sea-anemones,  star- 
lish.  sea  urchins,  sea-cucumbers,  etc.,  besides  a  variety  of 
shell  fish.  Sea-weeds  also  grow  in  abundance,  coloring 
the  water  with  their  beautiful  tints. 

This  is  true  of  the  New  England  coast  as  far  south  as 
Cape  Cod,  while  below  that  point  the  sandy  beaches  of  the 
Atlantic  shore  are  not  favorable  for  the  growth  of  these 
animals.  In  addition  to  the  loose  sand  which  is  "washed 
up  on  the  beach,  the  great  number  of  rivers  emptying 
fresh-water  into  the  sea  renders  it  still  more  unfavorable 
for  their  abode. 

As  found  011  the  beach,  a  sea-cucumber  would  remind 
you  of  a  leather  bag,  somewhat  worm-like  in  form,  with 
no  hard  shell,  and  marked  with  rows  of  warts  down  the 
sides  like  a  cucumber  (Fig.  1).  The  skin  is  tough,  yet  it 
may  expand  and  contract  in  a  curious  manner.  This 
gives  the  animals  the  power  of  changing  their  shape, 
which  often  makes  them  look  ridiculous. 

A  group  of  young  people  watching  the  movements  of 
a  sea-cucumber  were  once  greatly  amused  at  the  odd 
shapes  into  which  it  changed,  as  if  performing  for  their 
especial  entertainment.  It  sometimes  lengthened  out  its 
body  like  a  worm,  then  drawing  itself  in  tightly  around 
the  mouth,  the  other  end  of  the  body  swelled  out  like  a 
jug.  Suddenly,  tiring  of  this  freak,  it  began  to  make  an 
hour-glass  by  contracting  its  body,  as  if  a  string  were  tied 
around  the  middle  of  it,  with  bulges  above  and  below. 
The  children  were  anxious  to  see  its  tentacles,  but  it  would 
not  put  them  out.  There  was  no  way  to  persuade  the 
funny  creature,  and  they  wondered  if  it  had  grown  ob- 
stinate. 

The  tentacles  of  a  sea-cucumber  form  a  feathery  fringe 
around  the  mouth.  Their  number  is  usually  ten.  and 
they  have  the  same  curious  power  of  changing  their 
shape  that  we  have  noticed  in  the  body  of  the  animal. 
Sometimes  the  tentacles  are  contracted  in  the  middle  and 
swollen  both  above  and  below,  or  drawn  in.  very  thin  at 
the  base  and  bulged  out  above  like  a  balloon.  The  mouth 


564 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


may  be  distinctly  seen  in  Fig.  2,  which  represents  another 
species  of  sea-cucumber.  It  opens  into  a  pharynx  leading 
to  the  stomach.  The  long  intestine  passes  to  the  other 
extremity  of  the  body. 

From  the  general  appearance  of  the  sea-cucumber  you 
will  scarcely  suspect  that  it  is  one  of  the  Echhioderms, 


Fig.  1.— SEA-CUCUMBERS  (Holothiiridusi. 

but  watch  it  creep  over  the  rocks,  and  the  relationship  is 
,  at  once  established.  The  tube-feet  will  steal  out  noiseless- 
ly from  those  wart-like  spots,  as  seen  in  Fig.  3,  and  it  will 
travel  just  like  a  sea-urchin.  The  tube-feet  are  arranged 
on  five  muscular  bands  running  from  end  to  end,  and  di- 
viding the  body  into  five  segments.  The  spaces  between 
the  tube-feet  correspond  to  the  spaces  which  are  covered 
with  spines  in  the  sea-urchin.  One  species  of  sea-cucum- 
ber has  the  tube-feet  all  collected  on  the  under  side  of  the 
body  (Fig.  4).  It  is  called  a  "sea-orange,"  probably  from 
the  rough  rounded  markings  on  the  skin.  In  those  spe- 
cies which  have  no  tube-feet  the  animal  is  dragged  along 
by  the  aid  of  anchor-shaped  spicules  scattered  through  the 
skin. 

The  madreporic  body  is  not  on  the  outer  surface,  as  it 
is  in  other  members  of  the  family.  It  opens  upon  a  little 
canal  in  the  interior,  which  supplies  the  tube-feet  with 
water.  Although  hidden  from  our  view,  this  tiny  sieve 
filters  the  water  perfectly,  and  allows  no  irritating  parti- 
cles to  enter  the 
tube.  The  only 
resemblauce  to  the 
Radiates  which  we 
detect  in  these  an- 
imals is  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  their 
tentacles  and  their 
tube-feet  and  mus- 
cular bands. 

The  sea-cucum- 
ber does  not  break 
itself  to  pieces  as 
the  star-fish  does, 
but  it  has  a  pecul- 
iarity quite  as  re- 
markable :  when 
alarmed  it  throws 
out  various  organs 
from  the  interior 
of  the  body,  and, 
strange  to  say, 
these  castaway  or- 
gans are  soon  re- 
placed by  others. 
Dr.  Johnson  writes 

of  a  sea-cucumber  which  parted  with  its  organs  in  this 
manner  when  he  had  failed  for  several  days  to  give  it  a 
fresh  supply  of  sea-water.  Still  it  did  not  die,  for  other 
organs  grew  in  place  of  those  so  recklessly  thrown  away. 


Fig.  2.— SEA-CUCUMBERS. 


BB*-c- 


Sea  -  cucum- 
bers,  or    holo- 
thurians,   as 
they  are  pro- 
perly    call- 
ed, are  most 
abundant  in 
tropical  seas, 
where    they 
lie     in     the 
mud  or  in  shallow 
water,     with     their 
tentacles  floating  in 
expectation  of  prey. 
These   creatures,   as 
found  on  our  shores, 
with  their  tentacles 
snugly  stowed  away, 
have  no  pretentious 
to  beauty.    One  spe- 
cies from  the  Pacific 
Ocean    is   described 
as  being  much  hand- 
somer than  the  rest 
of    its    kind.      The 
body  is  as  transpar- 
ent as  glass,  and  of 
a    lovely    rose  -  col- 
or, with  fine  white 
stripes  runningfrom 

one  end  to  the  other,  and  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  pr.re 
white  tentacles. 

Another  kind  of  sea-cucumber,  called  the  trepang,  is  a 
favorite  article  of  food  with  the  Chinese.  Many  thou- 
sand junks  are  engaged  in  the  trepang  fisheries  in  the  Iii- 
diaii  Ocean.  The  trepangs  are  caught  with  a  harpoon  as 
they  creep  over  the  rocks  and  corals,  or,  when  the  water 
is  shallow,  they  are  brought  up  by  divers.  While  yet 
alive  the  animals  are  thrown  into  boiling  sea-water,  and 


Fig.  3.— A  SEA-CUCUMBER  \Ptntacta  j'lu 


•!.— SE.V-OK\M.I;. 


stirred  with  a 
long  stick.  Aft- 
er being  boil- 
ed and  flattened 
with  stones,  the 
Malay  fishermen 
spread  them  on 
bamboo  m;its. 
where  they  are 
dried  and  smok- 
ed ;  then  they 
are  packed  and 
shipped  to  the 
Chinese  market. 
I  do  not  believe 
that  you  or  I 
would  care  to 


.irr.Y  10, 1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


565 


taste  them  :  but  the  Chinese  appetite  is  different  from  ours, 
and  we  seldom  covet  their  dainties. 

Some  of  you,  no  doubt,  have  found  little  lumps  of  clear 
transparent  jelly  left  on  the  sea-shore  by  the  retnvii  in- 
tide-.  Many  of  these  jelly  lumps  are  the  undeveloped 
young  of  the  class  of  animals  \\  e  have  been  studying, 
and  if  some  time  you  should  place  a  number  of  them  in 
sea-water,  and  change  the  water  frequently,  you  may 
have  the  pleasure  of  watching  their  development,  and  see 
what  special  forms  they  assume.  These  animals  produce 
great  quantities  of  young  ones.  It  is  necessary  they 
should  do  so,  or  the  rare  would  soon  die  out,  as  they  are 
devoured  in  such  numbers  by  the  fish  that  a  small  pro- 
portion of  them  live  to  maturity. 

The  sea  contains  myriads  of  animals  that  prey  upon 
each  other,  the  larger  ones  eating  the  smaller;  and  we 
can  form  but  little  idea  of  the  amount  of  life  continual- 
ly sacriliced  for  the  support  of  that  which  remains.  It 
seems  almost  marvellous  that  any  of  the  delicate  little 
ones  should  escape  the  hungry  hordes  that  pursue  them. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 


ES    o  T  i  ss, 

OF  "  TOBY  TYLER,"  "  TIM  AND  TIP,"  "  MR.  STI/BIJS'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXIV.— 
LOST    ON    LAKE    OKEECHOBEE. 

THE  waves  were  making  a  clean  sweep  over  them,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  each  minute  of  that  waiting  was  fully 
an  hour  long. 

Then  Dare  fancied  he  could  hear  some  one  calling,  and 
as  he  raised  himself  up  to 
listen,  be  saw  Tommy  close 
beside  him.  the  wind  caus- 
ing his  voice  to  sound  as 
if  he  were  a  long'  distance 
away. 

"We  are  on  a  good  hard 
lieach,"  lie  shouted,  "and 
all  you'll  have  to  do  is  to 
wade  ashore." 

At  this  news,  which  told 
that  they  had  been  waiting 
in  dread  within  twenty  feel 
of  the  mainland,  the  hoys 
jumped  out.  and  Captain 
Sammy  ordered  them  to 
drag  the  wreck  of  the  boat 
up  with  them,  that  the  surf 
might  not  entirely  destroy 
her. 

On  the  beach  it  was  no 

i v  possible  to  distinguish 

objects  than  when  they 
had  been  on  the  water ; 
but  Captain  Sammy  led  the 
way  straight  ahead,  that 
they  might  gain  some  shel- 
ter from  the  storm  in  the 
woods. 

The  gale  was  so  furious 
that  it  was  impossible  to 
find  any  shelter  deserving 
of  the  name;  and  as  they 

stood  beside  the  enormous  trees,  which  bent  before  the 
storm  like  reeds,  they  had  even  a  better  idea  of  the  force 
of  the  wind  than  when  they  were  scudding  before  it  on 
the  lake. 

While   they   were   standing   there,    and   before   they 

*  Berlin  in  No.  17'5,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


had  done  anything  toward  trying  to  better  their  condi- 
tion, Captain  Sammy  bethought  himself  of  another  and 
still  more  serious  trouble  which  might  have  befallen 
them. 

"You  let  go  the  anchor  to-night.  Tommy,  didn't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Which  one  did  you  use  ?'' 

"  The  smallest  one.  It  bad  been  used  the  night  befoi'e, 
and  so  I  let  it  go  to-night." 

"  Then  there  is  every  chance  that  the  Pearl  is  a  greater 
wreck  by  this  time  than  the  boat  is, "said  Captain  Sammy, 
solemnly;  "for  it  doesn't  seem  possible  that  one  anchor, 
even  if  it  had  been  the  heavy  one,  could  hold  her  against 
this  gale." 

There  was  no  reply  made  to  this  suggestion.  Each 
one  of  the  party  knew  of  the  dangers  and  privations 
which  would  be  theirs,  even  though  they  did  succeed  in 
getting  out  of  the  Everglades,  in  ease  the  Pearl  had  been 
wrecked,  and  to  their  present  misery  was  added  the  horri- 
ble fear  that  they  were  in  truth  hopelessly  wrecked  on  the 
shores  of  that  inland  sea. 

Their  two  days'  voyage  of  discovery  had  taken  them 
just  so  much  farther  from  the  Caloosahatchee  River, 
down  which  theyinust  go  to  the  coast,  and  they  were  that 
distance  further  in  the  Everglades,  through  which  it  might 
be  impossible  to  make  their  way  on  foot. 

Their  situation  was  a  desperate  one,  whether  the  Pearl 
was  safe  or  not,  and  they  were  far  from  bettering  it  by 
standing  there  in  the  storm  thinking  of  the  dreadful  fate 
the  future  might  have  in  store  for  them. 

"Come,"  said  the  little  man,  who  was  the  first  to 
arouse  from  the  stupor  of  dread  and  fear  into  which  all 
had  fallen,  "standing  here  shivering  won't  mend  mat- 


"THE   'PEARL'S'    ALL    RIGHT!" 

ters,  and  what  we've  got  to  do  is  to  try  to  get  up  some 
kind  of  a  shelter,  or  we  shall  all  be  dissolved  before 
morning." 

He  had  tried  to  speak  in  a  cheery  tone,  and  it  had  a 
good  effect,  for  the  boys  began  to  move  around,  which 
was  far  better  than  standing  idle,  even  if  they  could  not 
better  their  condition. 


566 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SUNSHINE  AFTER  THE  STORM. 

THE  darkness  was  so  intense  that  it  was  only  by  feel- 
ing their  way  among  the  trees  that  the  shipwrecked  party 
on  the  shores  of  Lake  Okeechobee  could  manage  to  move 
along,  and  then  it  was,  of  course,  impossible  to  do  any- 
thing toward  erecting  a  shelter. 

Captain  Sammy  had  aroused  them  from  the  despair 
which  had  begun  to  creep  upon  them,  and  that  was  all  he 
cared  to  do,  for  he  knew  very  well  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  them  to  put  up  so  much  of  a  shelter  as  would 
shield  a  cat  from  the  storm,  owing  first  to  the  dark- 
ness, and  next  to  the  wind,  which  would  have  torn  away 
anything  in  the  form  of  a  camp  quite  as  fast  as  it  was 
built. 

After  the  boys  had  learned  how  useless  it  was  to  try  to 
make  a  shelter,  and  were  settling  down  into  discomfort 
again,  the  little  man  started  them  out  along  the  beach 
under  the  pretense  that  they  might  be  able  to  discover 
some  traces  of  the  Pearl. 

In  tliis  manner,  urged  on  from  one  useless  effort  to  an- 
other, the  night  passed.  At  about  the  time  for  the  sun  to 
rise  the  rain  ceased  to  fall,  the  clouds  dispersed,  and  when 
the  orb  of  day  came  up  on  the  eastern  sky  the  heavens 
were  clear  and  bright  for  his  journey  across  them. 

With  the  first  light  of  dawn  each  one  of  the  party  gazed 
anxiously  around  the  shores  of  the  lake,  but  as  far  as  they 
could  see  there  were  no  signs  of  the  little  steamer. 

"  Look  for  wreckage  on  the  shore,"  cried  Captain  Sam- 
my, eagerly,  as,  from  mere  force  of  habit,  he  shaded  his 
eyes  with  his  hands  from  the  light  which  was  hardly 
strong  enough  to  permit  of  their  seeing  the  shore  on  ei- 
ther side  of  them. 

But  no  such  ominous  signs  were  in  sight,  and  there  was 
still  hope  that  the  little  craft  was  yet  afloat. 

They  had  been  thrown  ashore  where  the  smooth  hard 
beach  extended  for  nearly  half  a  mile,  and  to  the  left  was 
a  point  of  land  around  which  it  was  possible  the  Pearl 
might  be  in  view. 

"Bobby,  you  run  over  to  that  point,  and  see  if  the 
steamer  is  in  sight  from  there,  while  the  rest  of  us  try 
what  we  can  do  toward  patching  up  the  tender,"  said 
Captain  Sammy;  "for  we  shall  want  her,  whatever  has 
happened  to  the  Pearl.  Then  if  it  should  be  that  the 
little  steamer  is  afloat,  we  must  have  the  tender  to  get  to 
her  in." 

Bobby  started  off  at  full  speed,  while  the  others  exam- 
ined the  boat  that  had  been  hauled  up  on  the  beach.  Her 
bow  was  stove  past  all  hope  of  mending  properly,  but  Cap- 
tuiii  Sammy  believed  he  could  fix  her  so  that  a  short  trip 
might  be  made  in  her. 

One  of  the  oars  and  the  rudder  were  gone,  while  the 
forward  seat  had  fallen  before  the  Humes  Tommy  had 
tried  to  keep  burning  the  night  before. 

But  fortunately  for  the  party  the  two  fish  .that  Bobby 
had  saved  when  lie  threw  the  others  overboard  were  still 
there.  They  had  gotten  wedged  in  under  the  stern  seat, 
and  thus  was  a  breakfast  provided  for  the  party,  who  oth- 
erwise would  have  gone  hungry. 

"Now,  Dare,  you  see  if  you  can't  cook  these  fish,  and. 
Tommy,  take  the  bailing  dipper  and  go  for  some  gum." 

No  one  save  he  who  had  spoken  and  he  who  was  spoken 
to  understood  what  kind  of  gum  was  desired,  or  what  it 
\\  :is  wanted  for;  but  Tommy  took  the  dipper  and  trudged 
off  into  the  woods  as  unconcerned  as  ever. 

It  was  not  as  simple  a  matter  to  cook  the  fish  as  at  first 
appeared,  owing  to  the  difficulty  of  kindling  a  fire,  for 
cnrli  one  of  the  party  had  been  thoroughly  drenched  the 
night  previous,  and  of  course  the  matches  had  shared  the 
same  fate. 

But  Captain  Sammy  was  equal  to  this  emergency,  as 
In-  had  been  to  manv  others  since  the  cruise  commenced. 


After  ordering  Dare  to  find  some  wood  which  the  heat  of 
the  morning  sun  had  already  dried,  and  have  everything 
ready  for  the  fire,  Captain  Sammy  laid  the  wet  matches 
on  a  rock  in  the  sunlight.  Around  them  he  piled  such 
dry  material  as  he  could  readily  find,  and  then  with  the 
glasses  from  his  and  Dare's  watch  he  made  such  a  sun- 
glass as  speedily  lighted  the  matches  as  well  as  the  dryer 
portion  of  the  wood. 

"There's  your  fire,"  he  said;  ''now  get  breakfast." 

By  this  time  Bobby,  who  had  for  a  while  disappeared 
around  the  point,  came  into  view,  running  at  the  top  of 
his  speed,  and  while  he  was  yet  a  long  distance  away  those 
on  the  beach  could  hear  him  shout,  ''The  Pearl's  all  right ! 
the  Pearl's  all  right !" 

Then  when  he  was  nearer  he  told  them  that  almost  as 
far  ahead  as  he  could  distinguish  objects  he  could  sec  the 
steamer  riding  at  anchor,  and  apparently  uninjured. 

Captain  Sammy's  face  expressed  the  thankfulness  he 
felt  at  thus  knowing  that  their  situation  was  simply  one 
of  uncomfortableness,  and  not  actual  danger,  while  bis 
feelings  were  shared  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  by  all  the 
others. 

Now  as  the  fish  began  to  splutter  and  hiss  at  being  im- 
paled on  sharp  sticks  in  front  of  such  a  hot  fire,  all  hands 
began  to  feel  very  hungry,  and  Bobby  and  Charley  tried 
to  hurry  the  breakfast  time  along  by  piling  the  fire  high 
with  wood — an  operation  which  only  served  to  sprinkle 
the  fish  more  plentifully  with  ashes  and  cinders. 

Some  time  before  this  not  particularly  nice  breakfast 
was  ready  Tommy  returned  with  his  dipper  nearly  full  of 
gum,  and  when  questioned  by  Charley  as  to  what  it  was 
and  where  he  got  it,  he  replied  that  it  was  a  substance 
which  oozed  from  the  gum  trees,  and  that  he  had  been 
obliged  to  visit  several  to  get  that  quantity,  because,  owing 
to  the  rain-storm,  it  did  not  flow  as  freely  as  it  would  aft- 
er three  or  four  days  of  hot,  dry  weather. 

"Captain  Sammy's  goin'  to  try  to  patch  up  the  boat 
with  it, "he  added;  and  the  little  man's  actions  now  show- 
ed that  Tommy  had  told  the  truth. 

He  had  taken  off  his  flannel  shirt  and  torn  it  into  strips, 
which  he  forced  into  the  seams  of  the  boat,  that  had  o|» -n 
ed,  with  the  point  of  his  knife.     When  the  gum  was  hand- 
ed to  him  he  looked  at  it  critically,  told  Tommy  to  put  it 
on  the  fire,  and  went  on  with  his  work. 

The  ex-pirate  knew  all  about  boiling  gum  down  to  u-e 
instead  of  tar.  and  he  stirred  the  mixture  carefully  until 
fully  two  thirds  had  boiled  away,  leaving  a  thick  dark 
material  almost  like  melted  glue. 

Breakfast  was  ready  before  Captain  Sammy  had  Unifi- 
ed calking  the  boat  with  the  flannel,  and  all  hands  par- 
took of  it  as  best  they  could  with  neither  plates,  knives,  nor 
forks,  but  no  one  made  a  remarkably  hearty  meal  owing 
to  the  exceeding  freshness  of  the  food. 

After  the  rather  unsatisfactory  meal  was  ended,  Tommy 
proposed  to  the  Captain  that  he  should  go  opposite  to 
where  the  Pearl  was  lying,  swim  out  to  her,  and  try  to 
work  her  in  toward  the  shore,  in  order  to  do  away  with 
the  necessity  of  spending  so  much  labor  on  a  useless  boat. 

Captain  Sammy  looked  up  at  him  a  moment  a.s  if  to  as- 
sure himself  that  Tommy  was  really  in  earnest,  and  then 
said,  as  he  pointed  to  an  alligator  that  was  swimming  by 
just  then, 

''How  far  do  you  suppose  those  fellows  would  let  you 
swim  ?" 

"Oh,  I'll  risk  but  that  I  could  get  out  to  the  steamer  be- 
fore they  could  get  hold  of  me,"  laughed  Tommy. 

"  But  I  don't  propose  to  have  you  risk  it,"  said  the  Cap-  • 
tain,  in  a  tone  that  showed  he  considered  all  argument  was 
at  an  end.  "I'm  about  done  now,  all  but  putting  the 
gum  on.  As  soon  as  I  spread  that,  you  take  the  dipper 
and  fill  it  again,  while  the  other  boys  walk  as  far  toward 
the  Pearl  as  they  can  go  on  the  shore.  Then  you  boil 
the  gum  down,  and  follow  them.  I'll  go  in  the  boat, 


.II'LY   lo,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPI.K. 


567 


and  I  don't  want  ti>  carry  any  more  of  a  load  than  I  can 
help,  fur  she  isn't  over  and  above  strong.'' 

(':. plain  Sammy  spread  a  thick  coating  over  the  seams, 

and  while  it  was  hardening  Tummy  started  oil'  gum  iraMi 
erini: '  airain.  wliil«-  I  In-  other  hoys  unit  down  the  beach  in 
the  direction  of  I  he  steamer. 

When  at  last  Captain  Sammy  had  repaired  the  lioat  as 
well  as  uas  possible  under  the  circiim-tanee-  and  Tommy 

obliged  10  till  the  dipper  twice  more  before  he  bad 

finished  she  was  very  nearly  water  n-lil.  There  were  two 
or  three  small  leaks,  hut  it  would  he  impos-ible  for  any 
more  \\atei-  than  enough  to  wet  their  feet  to  come  in  dur- 
ing the  short  voyaje  they  Would  1 billed  to  take. 

"  Now  run  on  an'  join  the  other  boy  B,  Tommy  .  an'  1  11 
pick  von  up  when  you  conn-  to  the  end  of  tin'  beach."  said 
(  'aplain  Sammy,  as  he  got  into  the  boat,  using  the  solitary 
oar  to  -.cull  with. 

Tommy  started  oil',  and  when  lie  reached  the  otn.  ps  at 
a  point  where  the  beach  nn-i-.  d  into  swampy  land,  he 
fuimd  tiial  thej  uere  hardly  more  than  half  a  mile  from 
the  steamer. 

\V  hen  (  'a  plain  Sammy  came  up  he  took  Pare  and  Tom 
my  in  the  boat,  ami,  after  they  reached  the  l'<  -<t  ••/.  sent 
Tommy  hack  for  the  oilier  two. 

When   the  parly    wer «  more  on   the  steamer  they 

found  to  their  ".Teat  satisfaction  lliat  she  had  sull'ei-'d  but 

little  damage   fr the  storm.      Some  of  I  he   lighter  arti 

t-h-s  that   had   been  on  deck,   including  two  birds  l>are  had 

just  finished  mounting,  had  been  either  blown  or  washed 

overboard,  and  considerable  water  had  been  shipped. 

The  little  craft  hail  swung  around  and  overridden  her 
anclior chain  in  such  a  way  a-  to  chafe  her  side.  lint 
cverythiiiL;-  could  lie  set  to  rights  in  a  shori  time,  and 
it  ^  safe  t,i  say  that  a  more  thankful  parly  never  gath 
ercd  on  Lake  <  >l;eechohee  lhan  was  this.  v.  hen  the  in- 
spection was  linished. 

|  VI)    UK,    CIIMIM  MI    | 


T11H   FAITHFUL  TIGEB 

A    i  IIIXF.sr.    LEGEND 

IN  the  town  of  ( 'ban  (  'If  F.ng  many  yeai-s  airo  tliere  dwelt 
an  old  woman  who  had  an  only  son.      One  day    ll-ia, 
the  son.  went   up  to  the  hills  lo  look  for  work,  and  a  tiger 
sprain;-  upon  him  and  killed  him. 

When  the  news  was  brought  to  his  mother  she  ran  to 
the  nearest  magistrate,  weeping  and  wringing  her  hands, 
and  begged  for  justice. 

The  magistrate  laughed,  and  said.  "  Foolish  woman, 
how  can  the  law  be  brought  to  hear  upon  a  tiger  T  But 
she  tore  her  white  hair,  and  lifting  up  her  voice,  cried. 
"Justice:  justice!"  until  the  hall  rang.  Then  he  losl 
his  temper,  and  bade  her  begone.  lint  with  streaming 
eyes  and  trembling  limbs  she  ran  around  the  court  room. 
''Justice! — my  son,  my  son! — justice!"  was  still  her  cry; 
and  the  magistrate,  seeing  her  great  age  and  grief,  took 
pity  on  her.  and  promised  to  have  the  tiger  arrested. 

But  even  then  she  would  not  go  until  the  warrant  was 
issued.  The  magistrate,  much  pu/y.h-d  as  to  how  he  could 
do  it,  began  to  draw  up  the  papers,  and  thought  and 
thought  until  the  perspiration  rolled  down  his  fat  cheeks. 
Finally  he  asked  his  attendants  which  of  them  would  take 
the  case.  Li-Neng,  who  was  a  very  young  lawyer  and 
something  of  a  jester,  stepped  forward  and  said  he  would, 
whereupon  the  warrant  was  immediately  issued,  and  the 
old  woman  went  away. 

The  next  morning  when  Li-Neng  awoke,  and  began  to 
think  seriously  about  what  he  had  done,  he  was  at  first 
much  frightened,  but  after  breakfast  he  concluded  it  was 
a  trick  of  his  master's  to  get  rid  of  the  old  woman,  and  a 
few  days  later  he  handed  in  the  warrant  as  if  the  arrest 
had  been  made. 


"Not  so, "cried  the  magistrate  "You  said  you  could 
do  this,  and  now  you  shall." 

Li-Neng  was  at  his  wits'  end.  and,  in  great  trouble. 
begged  permission  to  impress  the  hunters  of  the  district  to 
assist  him. 

This  was  granted,  and.  calling  toe-ether  the  men.  he 
went  nti  to  the  hills,  where  he  spent  days  and  nights 
watching  for  I  he  tigi  p 

But  a  month  passed  away,  and  he  was  fast  growing 
too  lame  to  hunt  ;  for  constables  and  detectives  in  ('hina 
are  ham  booed  at  intervals  of  three  and  live  days  until 
they  accomplish  successfully  what  they  have  undertaken 
to  do. 

At  last  in  despair  he  went  to  the  ( !h'-eng-huang  temple, 
in  the  eastern  suburbs,  and.  falling  <>n  his  knees,  lie  uept 
anil  prayed  by  turns.  Suddenly  a  tigir  walked  in.  and 
l.i  Nentr  shut  his  eyes,  and  wailed  to  be  eaten.  I'.ul  III.' 
ti:rer  did  not  seem  to  notice  him.  and  >al  still  in  the  door- 
way. 

Seeing  this,  l.i  Ni'nu  plucked  up  courage  and  addressed 
him. 

"()  liuer.  if  thoii  didst  slay  that  old  woman's  son.  let 
me  bind  ihee  with  this  cord;"  and  drawing  a  rope  from 
his  pocket,  he  threw  it  over  the  tiger's  neck,  and  went 
out  of  the-  temple.  The  tiger  followed,  drooping  his  head, 
and  trailin<_r  his  tail  in  the  dust. 

When  they  "ot  t,,  the  hall  of  justice  the  magistrate 
asked. 

"  ]>id  you  eal  the  old  woman's  son  (" 
The  tieer  nodded   In-  head 

"Thai  murderers  should  su  Her  death  has  ever  been  tin- 
law.  Besides,  this  old  woman  had  but  one  son.  and  by 
killing  him  you  took  from  her  the  sole  support  of  her  de- 
clining years." 

Then  the  magistrate  stopped,  and  the  tiger  hid  his  face 
on  the  ground. 

Mm. "added  the. justice,  "if  now  you  will  be  as  a  son 
to  her,  \  our  crime  shall  be  pardoned.' 

Tin-  tnrer  looked  up  and  nodded  again,  and  he  was  un- 
bound and  u  en  i  his  wa.\  ;  a  I  which  the  mother  of  the  dead 
man  was  anui-y,  for  she  thought  the  li'jer  should  have 
been  slain. 

All  night  she  lay  hungry  and  sorrowful,  but  when  she 
ope  lie,  I  her  door  in  the  morning  there  was  a  dead  deer  be- 
fore it.  It  was  a  lim-  fat  buck,  and  she  sold  the  flesh  and 
skin  and  the  handsome  horns  for  such  a  good  price  that 
she  had  food  for  day  S. 

A'jam  a  deer  was  brought,  and  then  the  tiger  came  oft 
en,  always  with  a  gift,  and  sometimes  with  money  and 
jewels;  so  she  grew  rich,  and  was  much  better  cared  for 
than  she  had  been  even  by  her  own  son.  The  widow 
even  became  very  fond  of  her  \\ild  ".nest,  and  .-he  used  to 
watch  anxiously  for  him.  fearing  that  some  day  he  would 
forget  to  come.  But  the  tiger  was  very  faithful,  and  he 
became  very  gentle  and  harmed  no  one;  he  slept  on  the 
porch,  and  lay  at  her  feet,  and  in  cold  weather  breathed  on 
her  hands  to  warm  them. 

This  went  on  for  seven  years,  when  she  died,  and  all 
her  relations  came  to  her  funeral.  While  they  disputed 
for  the  first  seat  of  honor,  the  tiger  walked  in  and  stood 
by  it,  roaring  his  lamentations  until  the  walls  trembled — 
so  did  the  relations. 

That  night  he  ran  off  to  the  hills,  and  was  seen  no  more. 
The  people  thought  he  had  gone  forever,  and  went  on 
making  preparations  for  the  funeral.  Finally  everything 
was  ready,  and  they  were  about  to  lay  her  in  her  gra\e. 
when,  as  the  mourners  stood  about,  he  came  rushing  down 
with  eyes  like  fire,  and  roaring  a  thunder-peal.  They 
scattered  in  fright,  but  he  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  he 
came,  and  was  never  seen  again. 

Then  the  people  built  a  shrine  in  his  honor,  and  called 
it  "The  Shrine  of  the  Faithful  Tiger,"  and  it  remains 
there  to  this  day. 


56S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


MY  BABY  BOY. 

BY  MRS.  MARY  H.  TAYLOR. 

MY  baby  boy,  o'er  whose  golden  head 
But  two  short  years  had  their  brightness  shed. 
Had  dropped  his  playthings,  and  climbed  with  care 
Till  he  stood  erect  in  a  neighboring  chair, 
With  his  dainty  ankles  and  bare  white  feet 
lliiil   hid  in  the  depths  of  the  cushioned  seat. 
He  poised  himself  as  he  caught  a   view 
Of  the  pleasant  picture  the  mirror  drew 
Of  his  own  sweet  face.     The  violet  eyes 
Were  lifted  a  moment  in  glad  surprise. 
As,  with  smile  as  sweet  as  my  baby's  own. 
The  other  Charley  looked  kindly  down. 
"Dot  boo  eyes  too?  dot  my  pritty  dess? 
You're  the  other  Tarley  boy.  I  guess." 
Then  his  face  was  grave,  and  he  nearer  bent, 
Stroking  his  cheek  with  a  look  intent; 
He  touched  his  chin,  and  the  ripe  red  lips, 
Sweet   as  the  bloom  the  honey-bee  Mps. 
"What  is  it,  Charley?  what  do  you  see?" 
With  an  air  of  conscious  dignity 
This  man  in  miniature  turned  i<>  speak. 
And  said,  still  struking  his  rosy  cheek, 
And  touching  his  chin  with  his  small  pink  thumb, 
"I'm  hail' in'  tn  »i   has  my  'ifkirx  t<>in< ." 


A  PORTUGUESE 
GHOST. 

r,Y  LIZZIE  W.  CHAMPNEY. 

"ING  JOHN  I.  of 
Portugal  was  ex- 
pected at  his  home  at 
C'intra,  and  there  were 
hustle  and  preparation 
at  the  palace.  And  no- 
where was  the  bustle- 
greater  than  in  the  roy- 
al kitchen. 

As  the  traveller  to- 
tlay  approaches  Cintra 
from  Lisbon,  the  most  re- 
markable architectural 
objects  which  meet  his 
eye  are  two  enormous 
chimneys.  They  might 
belong1  to  a  foundry  or 
to  the  furnaces  of  chem- 
ical works,  they  tower 
aloft  so  imposingly,  and 
bulge  at  the  base  into 
great  white  kilns;  hut 
they  ar-e  only  the  kitch- 
en chimneys  of  the  an- 
cient palace,  originally 
built  by  the  Moors,  and 
therefore  one  of  the  old- 
est landmarks  in  the 
kingdom. 

The  kitchen  intowhich 
these  capacious  chim- 
neys open  is  in  itself  re- 
markable. In  the  first 
place,  the  chimneys,  seen 
from  the  interior,  are 
even  more  interesting 
than  when  they  appear 
:is  two  obelisks  on  the 
distant  horizon.  From 
the  kitchen  we  peer  won- 
dcringly  into  the  throats 
of  the  sooty  caverns,  and 
the  odors  of  dead  din- 
ners seem  to  linger  like 
reluctant  ghosts.  One 
chimney  was  used  for 
roasting  and  boiling,  and 

here  hang  great  spits  that  worked  by  clock-work,  slowly 
turning  huge  joints  of  meat,  and  whole  kids,  lambs,  and 
fowls,  before  the  blazing  fire.  Here,  too.  is  an  enormous 
crane,  with  pot-hooks  and  chains  for  hoisting  and  lower- 
ing, which  reminds  one  of  a  derrick  or  complicated  eleva- 
tor apparatus. 

By  the  side  of  this  chimney  are  ranged  rows  of  gleam- 
ing brass  and  salmon-tinted  copper  kettles,  shining  as 
brightly  as  the  plate  armor  in  the  principal  hall  of  the 
palace.  With  the  other  chimney  a  long  row  of  ovens  is 
connected,  and  near  by  stands  a  long  marble-topped  table, 
on  which  the  cooks  are  busily  employed  rolling  out  vast 
plains  of  pastry,  which  are  bounded  on  the  east  by  floury 
snow  mountains,  and  on  the  west  by  ocean  tanks  of  olive 
oil. 

Ildefonso  Scares  de  Silva,  the  head  cook,  was  noted  for 
his  pastry.  He  was  pastry-cook  at  the  convent  of  AIco- 
ba§a,  the  most  princely  religious  house  in  the  world.  How 
the  monks  doted  on  his  eel  pie  and  his  pate  de  foie  gras, 
his  guava  tarts  and  his  pates  of  fried  bananas!  lie  was 
o  much  prized  by  the  superior  of  tin-  convent  that  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  would  ever  have  willingly  parted 


JULY  10,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


569 


with  him  had  not  King1  John  dined  at  the 
convent  shortly  after  the  memorable  bat- 
tle of  Aljubarrota. 

The  monks  were  all  so  triad  that  his 
Most  (  'hi-i-tian  Majesty  had  succeeded 
in  routing'  the  combined  forces  of  the 
French  and  tin-  Spaniards  that  they  bade 
lldefonso  do  his  best.  ;mcl  sixteen  differ- 
out  kinds  of  ]>ies  were  served  before  the 
r(iiii|ueror.  It  is  fortunate  that  they  did 
not  speak  English,  for  then  the  King 
might  have  complimented  them  np<>n 
\\><'\r  piety :  but  as  it  was.  they  were  saved 
any  poor  puns  of  that  kind.  The  King- 
was  so  delighted  with  his  fare  that  he 
begged  as  a,  favor  that  their  pastry  cook 
might  be  transferred  to  his  own  kitchen, 
and  lie  granted  the  obliging  monks  im- 
portant privileges  in  return  for  the  favor. 

One-  reason  why  King  .lohn  was  so 
anxious  to  obtain,  this  wonderful  cook 
was  that  he  expected  soon  to  marry  all 
Knglish  lady,  Philippa  of  Lancaster,  and 
he  feared  that  she  might  lind  ordinary 
Port  ugliest-  ( kery  little  to  her  taste. 

The  new  <.t>ueen  had  been  married  and 
crowned,  and  had  come  to  live  in  the  pal- 
ace at  ( 'intra.  Her  sister  (  'allnrine  hail 
come  too  to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  now,  his 
warrings  over  for  the  present.  King  .lohn 
himself  was  expected.  lldefonso,  in  his 
paper  cap  and  white  apron,  brandished 
his  rolling  pin,  and  determined  to  invent 
a  pie  that  should  carry  his  fame  dtiwn  to 
the  remotest  generations.  (,)ueen  Philip- 
pa  had  been  pleased  to  compliment  him 
on  his  bell-shaped  pastry  (lowers  with 
hearts  of  marmalade.  Such  trilles  as 
these  might  please  the  ladies;  but  the 
King  was  as  valiant  a  soldier  with  the 
knife  and  fork  as  with  the  sword,  and 
it  would  be  another  matter  to  will  his 
praise. 

lldefonso  was  not  pleased  with  his  pro- 
motion: lie  would  rather  have  remained 
at  his  dear  convent,  hut. since  he  had  been 
brought  to  the  palace,  lie  determined  to 
please  the  King  so  well  that  he  would  al- 
low him  speedily  to  return,  never  think- 
ing that  for  the  success  of  this  design  it 
was  quite  as  dangerous  to  please  him  too 
well  as  to  fail  in  his  profession.  He  re- 
membered that  the  King  had  expressed 
his  admiration  of  all  of  the  sixteen  dif- 
ferent pies  with  which  he  had  served  him, 
but  had  mentioned  one  cause  for  regret. 
A  man  could  not  eat  sixteen  pies  regu- 
larly at  each  dinner,  and  it  was  a  pity  to 
lose  the  exquisite  flavor  of  any  one  of 
them.  lldefonso  determined  to  invent 
one  pie  which  should  combine  the  quali- 
ties of  the  whole  sixteen. 

Accordingly  he  lined  an  enormous 
saucepan  with  fluted  pastry,  and  within 
this  he  cunningly  commingled  minced 
pigeons,  meats,  suet,  partridges,  quails, 
snipes,  woodcocks,  with  sliced  lemons, 
apples,  pears,  quinces,  peaches,  apricots, 
nectarines,  melon,  pine-apple,  custard  ap- 
ples, bananas,  figs,  pomegranates,  cher- 
ries, almonds,  raisins,  plums,  berries,  cur- 
rants, candied  citron,  marmalade,  jelly, 
preserves,  spices,  red  wine  from  Oporto, 


CATHERINE  READING  BOOKS  ON  "THE  BLACK  AKT.' 


570 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


and  white  wine  from  Spain,  with  sugar-plums  of  all  flavors. 
It  was  a  wonderful  pie,  and  the  odor  which  it  diffused 
while  baking  was  so  delicious  and  so  penetrating  that  the 
King  and  his  retinue,  when  hardly  in  sight  of  the  great 
chimneys,  put  spurs  to  their  horses,  and  came  charging 
down  the  Lisbon  road  as  though  they  heard  before  them 
the  challenging  battle-cry  of  "Santiago  for  Spain!" 

The  poor  servants,  who  had  hoped  that,  as  the  pie  was 
so  enormous,  they  might  all  come  in  for  a  share  of  the 
fragments,  were  greatly  disappointed.  The  King  would 
make  his  dinner  of  nothing  else,  and  indeed  the  pie  was  a 
complete  bill  of  fare  in  itself.  The  rest  of  the  royal  fami- 
ly were  obliged  to  content  themselves  with  narrow  slices, 
for  the  King  ate  fully  half  of  the  pastry.  The  two  court 
physicians  looked  at  one  another  knowingly,  and  neither  of 
them  retired  that  night,  expecting  every  moment  to  be  call- 
ed to  his  Majesty's  couch.  But,  wonderful  as  it  may  seem, 
the  King  slept  soundly,  and  remarked  in  the  morning  that 
he  had  enjoyed  the  most  delightful  of  dreams. 

He  devoured  another  of  the  pies  at  dinner,  and  demand- 
ed that  the  cook  should  be  brought  in  to  hear,  before  the 
whole  table,  his  master's  august  approval.  Ildefonso  stood 
with  quivering  lips  trying  in  vain  to  summon  courage  to 
ask  for  his  dismissal,  while  King  John  praised  his  master- 
piece, and  swore  that  henceforward,  so  long  as  they  both 
should  live,  no  one  but  Ildefonso  Scares  de  Silva  should 
make  pies  for  the  royal  table. 

The  heart-broken  cook  left  the  King's  presence  humbly, 
but  as  soon  as  he  reached  his  kitchen  he  gave  way  to  fran- 
tic grief.  He  vowed  that  the  King  should  rue  his  cruel 
selfishness,  and  salted  the  pastry  with  bitter  tears.  The 
threats  of  the  poor  cook  seemed  ridiculous  to  the  other 
servants,  and  little  notice  was  taken  of  them  at  the  time, 
for  another  topic  of  conversation  interested  every  mem- 
ber of  the  household. 

Two  nobles  lodged  in  different  parts  of  the  palace  had 
been  each  disturbed  by  a  ghost  in  a  long  gown,  holding 
in  one  hand  a  lamp,  and  in  the  other  a  drawn  sword. 
This  occurrence  formed  the  table-talk  at  breakfast  for 
both  nobles  and  servants.  The  affair  would  have  been 
discarded  as  a  dream  had  not  two  gentlemen  borne  -wit- 
ness to  it.  The  ladies  became  nervous  with  fear  that  a 
robber  had  visited  the  palace,  and  the  King  commanded 
that  the  entire  building  should  be  thoroughly  searched, 
and  a  double  watch  placed  that  night  at  every  door.  Al- 
most in  the  same  breath  he  commanded  Ildefonso  to  serve 
up  for  dinner  another  pie  as  nearly  as  possible  a  counter- 
part of  the  first. 

"  If  this  spirit  has  any  news  to  tell,"  mused  the  King, 
"  why  does  he  not  address  himself  to  me,  instead  of  alarm- 
ing tlie  ladies,  and  making  a  disturbance  to  no  purpose  ?" 
It  was  a  fact,  the  singularity  of  whioh  had  been  much 
talked  about,  that  while  every  other  member  of  the  royal 
household  had  been  more  or  less  disturbed,  the  ghost  had 
steadily  avoided  the  King.  Every  night  he  unsheathed 
his  sword,  and  laid  it  on  the  cloth  of  gold  counterpane. 
Every  night  the  lamp  was  left  burning,  and  every  night 
the  King  slept  soundly  until  the  dawn.  At  first  he  con- 
gratulated himself  upon  the  circumstance,  and  dared  all 
the  ghosts  and  hobgoblins  of  the  air  to  bewitch  Turn,  but,  lit- 
tle by  little,  he  found  himself  in  an  uncomfortable  minority. 
There  was  one  other  person  besides  the  King  who  had 
not  yet  seen  the  ghost,  and  this  was  maid  Catherine,  sis- 
ter of  the  Queen.  She  was  as  unhappy  as  any  of  the 
others,  however,  for  she  dearly  loved  her  sister,  and  she 
could  not  help  seeing  how  miserable  Philippa  was.  She 
was  walking  one  day  in  the  curious  old  court  of  the 
palace,  when  she  noticed  the  cook.  Ildefonso.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  observing  one  of  the  fountains,  commonly 
called  the  Weeping  Lady,  a  rudely  sculptured  Niobe  show- 
ering her  prostrate  children  with  astonishingly  abundant 
tears,  which  gushed  in  jets  from  her  eyes. 

''Is  it  not  absurd  ?"  laughed  Catherine;  but  when  Ilde- 


fonso turned  she  saw  that  he  was  weeping  too.  "  Surely 
the  statue  is  not  so  pathetic  as  to  cause  the  beholder  to 
shed  tears!"  she  exclaimed,  wondermgly. 

"  Nay,  lady,"  he  replied,  "  I  wept  at  my  own  grief,  and 
not  for  those  of  the  marble  woman  yonder." 

"What  is  your  grief  ?"  Catherine  asked,  kindly. 
"It  is  homesickness,"  he  replied,  shyly.  "I  long  for 
the  convent  where  I  was  a  lay  brother,  where,  though  I 
performed  menial  offices,  I  was  yet  regarded  as  an  equal 
by  the  monks,  and  enjoyed  walking  in  the  cloister  gar- 
den, or  hearing  the  choir  chant  in  the  chapel,  or  even 
yosMpi'd  with  the  illuminators  in  the  library,  and  found 
many  a  design  for  my  confectionery  in  tin-  arabe.sque.s 
of  their  missal  borders." 

"But  here,"  suggested  Catherine,  "you  are  a  member 
of  the  King's  court." 

" 'Better,' "  replied    Ildefonso,  quoting   from   memory 
from  something  which  he  had  heard  read  in  the  refectory 
while  the  monks  took  their  meals,  "  'is  a  dinner  of  herbs 
where  love  is  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith.'  " 
"You  are  not  polite,"  said  Catherine,  with  dignity. 
"  We  are  not  bidden  to  be  polite  to  the  Evil  One,  and 
he  has  vexed  me  sore  since  I  came  here." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  asked  Catherine,  curiously. 
"He  comes  into  the  kitchen  nearly  every  night,  and 
makes  havoc  with  all  my  preparations  for  the  next  day. 
Sometimes  I  find  the  currants  and  raisins  strewed  about 
the  floor.  Sometimes  a  fire  will  be  kindled  under  the 
ovens,  and  good  substance  placed  therein  and  burned  to 
a  cinder.  .If  there  chance  to  be  a  pie  in  the  larder,  it  is 
invariably  broken  into  and  damaged,  so  that  it  is  no  long- 
er fit  to  be  set  upon  the  King's  table.  The  jars  of  confiture 
are  often  broken,  and  the  paste  trampled  upon  in  the 
kneading-troughs.  Neither  bolts  nor  locks,  nor  charms 
nor  talismans,  avail  against  the  plague,  and  I  am  an  un- 
done and  miserable  man." 

"  It  is  the  ghost,"  said  Catherine. 

' '  Yea,  I  have  heard  that  the  great  people  of  the  house 
have  seen  a  ghost,  but  as  for  myself  I  would  not  look 
upon  it  for  the  world.  Spirits  have  the  power  of  the 
evil-eye,  and  if  they  look  upon  you  will  change  \<>u  to 
stone.  And  in  that  case  there  would  be  two  weeping 
fountains,  a  man  as  well  as  a  woman." 

"If  this  ghost  could  be  driven  away,  would  you  then 
be  content  to  bide  with  us?"  Catherine  asked. 

"No  longer  than  the  King  compels  me.  I  have  said 
that  I  long  for  uiy  convent.  I  was  not  made  for  a  king's 
kitchen." 

"  Then  why  do  you  satisfy  the  King  so  well  ?  If  your 
pies  were  less  toothsome  he  would  soon  give  you  leave  of 
absence." 

"  If  they  were  poor  I  would  be  remanded  to  the  cham- 
bers of  torture,  or  perhaps  lose  my  head.  Alas !  I  fear 
there  is  no  relief  for  me;  and  a  pie  of  mine  will  never 
:r_:;mi  grace  the  board  of  the  merry  monks  of  Alcobaga." 

Catherine  sighed.  "  Both  gentle  and  simple  have  their 
hearts'  grievances,"  she  said,  and  entered  the  palace,  pen- 
sive and  troubled. 

The  King's  dwarf,  a  merry  little  jester,  whose  business 
it  was  to  keep  the  court  in  good  Humor,  plucked  at  her 
sleeve. 

"Good  mistress,"  he  said,  "did  I  not  see  you  convers- 
ing with  that  saucy  knave  the  cook  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Catherine;  "but  what  grudge  have  you 
against  him  ?" 

"Simply  that  it  is  he  who  has  raised  all  this  fright  of 
ghosts  and  phantoms  to  wreak  revenge  on  my  royal  mas- 
ter. I'll  wager  that  the  ghost  is  none  other  than  he  of 
the  saucepans,  and  if  his  gracious  Majesty  will  permit  me, 
I  will  lie  in  wait  for  him  and  finish  him  upon  his  next  ap- 
pearance." 

Catherine  was  troubled.  "Do  nothing  as  yet."  she 
said.  "  I  myself  will  thoroughly jsift  this  matter." 


.JULY   10,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


571 


She  sought  her  sister,  and  held  a  long  conference  with 
her. 

"Would  it  not  he  well."  she  suggested,  "to  imprison 
the  cook  for  a  linn-  in  his  own  room,  and  see  whether 
there  is  any  truth  in  what  the  dwarf  says ?" 

Philippa's  face  only  assumed  a  deeper  shade  of  gloom. 

"This  is  no  child's  play  of  masquerade  ghosts,"  *he 
-aid.  sadly.  "Would  that  it  were!  The  evil  lies  deeper, 
and  has  its  seat  in  the  King  himself,  though  he.  poor  man. 
is  unconscious  of  it.  I  have  twice  awakened  in  the  dead 
of  night,  sei/ed  with  a  great  trembling,  whose  cause  I  knew 
not.  to  find  the  King  gone.  When  I  left  the  room  in 
seai-cli  of  him.  and  wandered  up  and  down  tlie  corridor-..  I 
found  him  not,  nor  dared  I  awaken  my  attendants  or 
alarm  the  guards,  for  I  would  not  have  them  to  know 
how  grievously  their  master  is  plagued.  Once  when  I 
returned  to  my  room  I  found  the  \\\\\>_L'  sleeping  peaceful 
ly,  and  when  I  awakened  him  lie  persisted  that  he  had 
not  left  the  chamher.  At  the  second  alarm  I  sat  me 
down,  alone  and  trembling,  to  watch  what  would  happen. 
and  presently  the  King  entered  the  i in,  but  so  bewitch- 
ed that  he  saw  me  not,  and  answered  me-  slrangeU  when 
I  spoke  to  him,  and  on  the  morrow  he  conlidently  atlirm- 
ed.  as  before,  that  he  had  not  left  his  bed." 

••Surely,"  said  (.'atherine,  "the  plot  thickens,  and  I 
know  not  what  to  think." 

lint  even  while  she  spoke  a  cold  ami  deadly  suspicion 
almost  stilled  her  heart.  What  if  Ildel'un.so  \\ere  not 
shamming,  but  had  bewitched  the  King  in  earnest  !  She 
hail  heard  of  such  things,  and  the  cook  had  a  dark 
look  which  \\oiild  well  befit  a  magician  or  a  wizard.  She 
knew  that  if  she  breathed  her  suspicions  to  her  confessor 
there  was  evidence  enough  to  condemn  the  unfortunate 
COOt  to  torture,  perhaps  to  death,  and  she  had  hi  en  touch 
ed  by  his  grief,  and  could  not  believe  it  feigned 

She  wandered  into  the  library,  and  selected  an  old  1 k 

on  the  lilack  Art.  She  .sat  reading  this  until  late  in  the 
night  in  her  sister's  boudoir.  It  was  tilled  with  stones  of 
Moorish  sorcerers,  and  was  enough  of  itself  to  frighten  a 

nervous  girl  into  i \  n  |s  jo  us.     Suddenly  she  heard  a  step 

on  the  tiled  lloor  of  the  passage  upon  which  this  room 
opened.  With  the  step  came  the  slow  solemn  sound  of 
the  clock  striking  midnight.  The  footfalls  kept  time 
with  each  stroke,  and  seemed  to  be  approaching.  In  a 
n  101 1 lent  more  a  Hi:  ure  iu  a  long  gown,  holding  a  lamp  and 
sword,  passed  the  open  door.  (  'at  herine  sprang  to  her  feet. 

It  IVUH  not  ii  ijlio-tt.  linf  tin-  Kim./  liiinni'/f. 

Catherine  followed  him,  bravely  determined  to  solve  the 
nnstery.  He  passed  by  the  room  occupied  hy  the  court 
physician,  and  Catherine  paused  long  enough  to  knock  and 
arouse  the  learned  doctor:  but  when  she  turned  again  tin; 
gliding  figure  had  disappeared.  She  ran  up  one  staircase 
and  down  another,  hut  she  had  completely  lost  him.  The 
physician  joined  her  in  a  moment,  and  they  wandered 
about  for  a  little  time  to  no  purpose.  Suddenly  the  mem- 
ory of  what  Ildefonso  had  said  of  the  havoc  which  the 
ghost  made  in  his  pantry  came  to  her  mind,  and  exclaim- 
ing, "  Let  us  go  to  the  kitchen !"  she  ran  fleetly  in  front  of 
his  eminence  the  doctor,  who  was  a  portly  man.  and  some- 
what slow  to  follow  an  idea.  When  she  reached  the  kitch- 
en a  strange  sight  met  her  eyes.  There,  comfortably  swing- 
ing in  one  of  the  great  brass  kettles,  which  happened  to  he 
attached  to  the  crane,  sat  King  John,  with  his  royal  legs 
dangling  over  the  side,  and  his  royal  hands  engaged  in 
dissecting  a  pie  which  he  held  upon  his  knees.  The  sword 
and  the  lamp  stood  upon  a  dresser  table.  The  former  had 
clearly  been  used  ill  carving  the  pastry  upon  which  he 
was  now  lunching. 

(  'atherine  approached  him  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he 
made  no  answer. 

"  He  is  asleep,"  said  the  court  physician;  "  it  would  he 
exceedingly  dangerous  to  awaken  him  now." 

But  just  as  he  spoke,  n  small  lithe  figure  which  had  been 


concealed  in  an  angle  of  the  chimney  sprang  to  a  crank  by 
which  the  kettles  were  lowered  and  hoisted,  and  loosening 
a  bolt,  the  chain  ran  down  with  a  rattling  noise,  and  down 
came  the  kettle  with  a  ringing  crash  upon  the  hearth -stone. 
It  was  the  dwarf,  who  had  concealed  himself,  as  he  had 
threatened  to  do,  and  who  would  now  have  attacked  the 
confused  monarch  with  a  poker  had  not  Catherine  wrench 
ed  it  just  in  time  from  his  tiny  hand.  The  doctor  flew  to 
the  assistance  of  the  King,  helping  him  out  of  the  kettle. 
"  Where  am  1  .'"  asked  the  bewildered  monarch. 

"You  have  been  walking  in  your  sleep,  sire,"  replied 
the  wise  physician.  "  Doubtless  the  memory  of  this  tooth- 
some pie  haunted  your  dreams,  and  so  wrought  upon  \on 
that  you  can  ii-  in  search  of  it  without  your  own  knowledge. 
P.ut  leave  it.  sire,  leave  it :  you  have  already  had  more  of  it 
than  is  good  for  your  invaluable  health,  and  hereafter  I 
fear  you  must  bring  yourself  to  give  it  up  cntireh  . " 

It  was  a  hard  trial  for  the  King  to  do  so.  but  the  relief 
which  he  experienced  in  knowing  that  he  was  not  real- 
ly bewitched,  and  that  the  ghost  was,  after  all,  no  more 
frightful  than  himself,  was  such  a  delight  that  he  was  en- 
abled to  make  the  sacrifice. 

When  Catherine  besought  that  Ildefonso  might  be  al- 
lowed to  return  to  his  convent,  the  King  readily  granted 
the  request,  insisting  only  that  three  times  a  year — on  the 
anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Aljubarrota.  on  his  wedding- 
day,  and  U] Christmas— one  of  the  mauic  pies  should 

he  sent  him.  and  that  a  detachment  of  cavalry  should  be 
detailed  to  escort  it  from  the  convent  to  the  palace. 


NOTES  ON  FISHING. 

Till:  SI'lDKi:   MiiNITOK.  AMI   Htl\V   I   MADE 
BY  WILL  WOODMAN. 

EYF.I!YI'.ol>Y  can  not  be  expected  to  carry  a  fishing 
outfit  with  him,  nor  is  it  necessary,  for  I  think  I  could 
always  contrive  somehow  to  catch  a  fish  if  1  were  where 
the  fish  uas.  When  I  was  a  small  hoy  I  used  to  spend 
my  summers  with  my  grandfather  on  the  1  lelaware  River, 
some  miles  above  Philadelphia.  One  day  I  was  fretting 
and  whining,  as  disagreeable  small  boys  sometimes  do, 
because  1  had  no  money  to  buy  a  hook  and  line  with. 

"  l>o  you  really  want  to  1:0  fishing  .'"  asked  my  grand- 
father, looking  over  his  spectacles  at  me. 

"Yes,  sir."  1  answered,  promptly,  with  pleasant  antici- 
pations of  money  to  come. 

"  Well,  then,  I'd  go,  if  I  were  you." 

"  But  I  haven't  any  hook  and  line."  I  answered. 

"Make  one.  then.  If  I  wanted  anything  as  much  as  \  on 
say  you  do  this,  I'd  have  it,  if  I  had  to  make  it  myself." 

"  But  how  can  I  if  I  don't  know  how  ?"  I  inquired,  with 
an  injured  air. 

"My  boy,"  said  he,  "the  Indians,  who  did  not  have 
anything  like  the  quantity  of  material  you  have,  made 
hooks  and  lines.  They  made  hooks  from  crooked  bones, 
and  even  from  stones,  which  they  carved  into  a  semicir- 
cular shape.  They  made  lines  from  the  sinews  of  ani- 
mals. If  they  had  had  the  pins  that  you  can  easily  get, 
they  would  have  soon  bent  them  into  hooks,  and  they 
would  never  have  asked  for  money  to  buy  a  line  if  they 
had  the  balls  of  cord  or  spools  of  cotton  that  you  have  to 
select  from." 

"  Oh  !"  I  said,  somewhat  ashamed  that  I  had  not  thought 
of  such  a  simple  plan  myself,  and  yet  not  quite  sure  that 
it  would  work.  And  then  suddenly,  as  a  new  difficulty 
presented  itself,  I  added,  with  something  like  pleasure,  I 
am  afraid, 

"But  what  am  I  to  do  for  a  bob  or  a  sinker  ?" 

"You  could  do  without  them,  but  they  are  easily  enough 
made,"  said  my  grandfather,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  that 
showed  he  was  pleased  to  be  able  to  overcome  any  difficul- 
ties his  grandson  could  suggest.  "  For  a  bob  get  a  cork 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


from  Sarah,  run 
a  stick  through 
the     middle     so 
that  it  will  project 
about   an   inch   at 
N  each  end ;  let  the  line 

^tr          run  through  with  the 
stick,  which  will  help 
to  prevent  it  slip- 


what  looked  like  a  turret  ship,  such  as  was  used  during 
the  late  civil  war— a  Monitor,  in  fact. 

The  can  I  had  previously  pierced  with  holes  large 
enough  to  admit  the  ends  of  my  poles ;  when,  therefore,  the 
can  was  securely  nailed  to  the  deck,  I  put  my  poles  into 
the  holes,  and  let  them  rest  on  the  railing  of  the  boat.  In 
this  way  the  outer  ends  of  the  poles  were  raised  some  dis- 
tance from  the  water,  and  being  pliable,  would  easily 
bend  under  the  struggles  of  a  captured  fish. 

The  boat,  when  everything  was 
in  readiness,  was  taken  to  the 
lake,  on  the  windward  side,  and 
with  sail  set,  started  on  her  voy- 
age. A  light  cord  attached  to 
the  stern  enabled  me  to  stop  her 
when  she  was  far  enough  out, 
and  all  I  had  then  to  do  was  to 
wait  patiently  until 
my  poles  should 
bend  and  an- 
nounce to  me 
the  capture 

I 


ping  through  too  easily.  If  you  can't  find  a  piece  of  lead  for 
a  sinker,  take  a  piece  of  iron,  a  part  of  a  nail,  for  example." 

I  did  as  my  grandfather  told  me,  and,  with  a  small  hick- 
ory sapling  for  a  pole,  I  caught  many  a  perch  and  sun- 
fish,  and  occasionally,  to  my  sorrow,  even  an  eel. 

The  lesson  in  self-help  I  had  received  was  most  useful 
to  me,  for  it  started  me  thinking  for  myself,  and  among 
other  things  I  devised  a  plan  whereby  I  combined  the  plea- 
sures of  toy -boat  sailing  with  wholesale  fish  catching. 

I  found  an  old  piece  of  two-inch  board  in  the  wagon- 
house  loft,  and  chopped  one  end  to  a  point  to  resemble  a 
bow.  I  tacked  a  narrow  strip  of  wood  on  the  under  side 
from  the  point  of  the  bow  to  the  middle  of  the  stern ; 
that  was  my  keel  to  keep  the  boat  steady  in  the  water.  (A 
rudder  like  the  one  in  the  illustration  can  be  used  in  place 
of  a  keel.  I  My  mast,  which  was  usually  a  pine  stick 
-about  the  length  of  the  boat,  was  placed  between  the  mid- 
dle of  the  boat  and  the  bow.  My  sail,  which  was  square 
in  shape,  was  of  cloth  when  I  could  get  it,  or  of  tough 
brown  paper,  and  once  I  did  use  a  cabbage  leaf. 

My  fishing  apparatus  consisted  of  from  six  to  ten  tough 
but  slender  poles,  not  more  than  two  and  a  half  feet  long. 
'To  these  were  attached  lines  varying  from  three  feet  to  six 
feet  in  length,  the  longest  line  having  the  largest  hooks. 

I  found  an  old  tomato  can,  and  cut  it  down  to  three 
inches  in  height.  Then  I  cut  a  number  of  slits  in  the  can 
an  inch  deep,  and  turned  the  slit  edge  up  at  right  angles 
with  the  side  of  the  can.  This  edge  I  nailed  to  the  floor 
•of  the  boat,  as  near  the  middle  as  possible,  and  thus  I  had 


man 
over 


of  the  fin- 
ny prey. 

There  is 
one  advan- 
tage which 
the  fisher- 
has 
the 

hunter,  and  that  is  that  he  may  always  have  his  tools  at 
hand  for  instant  use  wherever  he  may  be. 

I  remember  how  I  once  got  me  as  dainty  a  meal  as  ever 
Delmonico  served,  and  that  too  in  a  desert  place,  where  I 
am  sure  only  a  fisherman  would  have  thought  of  finding 
a  feast.  It  was  when  the  railroad  to  San  Francisco  was 
first  opened. 

We  had  crossed  the  great  Rockies,  and  were  bowling 
along  toward  Ogden  through  a  gorge  in  the  Uiiitah  Mount- 
ains, when  we  came  to  a  stop.  It  was  a  wild  place,  with 
a  precipitous,  frowning  cliff  on  one  side,  and  a  bare  bowl- 
der-strewn mountain  slope  on  the  other. 

Everybody  was  grumbling  at  the  prospect  of  being  kept 
in  such  a  desolate  spot;  but  my  fisherman's  eye  had 
caught  sight  of  a  rippling  mountain  stream  singing  to  it- 
self as  it  danced  along  under  the  dark  cliff,  and  I  deter- 
Mi'in'd  to  ask  some  questions  before  I  joined  the  army  of 
grumblers.  I  went  to  the  conductor. 

"  How  long  do  you  think  we  will  stop  here  ?"  I  asked, 
in  my  politest  manner. 

"  How  should  I  know  '." 


.Il'LY   lu,  1S8K. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


573 


Evidently  the  conductor  was  cross;  but  I  did  not  blame 
him;  for  I  was  sure  that  each  passenger  had  already  asked 
the  same  question  at  least  once,  and  perhaps  twice;  so  I 
tried  another  plan. 

"Of  course  you  can't  tell  exactly,"  I  said:  "but  I  was 
thinking  that  if  we  had  time  enough  you  and  I  might 
have  a  nice  mess  of  baked  trout  out  of  yonder  stream. 
I'm  sure  there  are  trout  in  it." 

The  conductor  was  only  human,  and  he  liked  trout. 
He  said  he  guessed  we  might  stay  there  three  or  four 
hours,  and  he  thought  he  might  scare  up  a  piece  of  cord 
for  a  line  somewhere,  but  he  didn't  know  about  a  hook. 

"I'll  look  out  for  hook  and  line,"  said  I,  "  if  you  will 
get  the  oven  ready." 

"That's  easy  enough."  said  he.  "  I'll  make  it  of  some 
of  these  flat  stones,  and  I'll  heat  it  with  coals  from  the 
engine  furnace." 

Thereupon  I  took  off  my  hat.  turned  down  the  inside 


band,  and  selected  a  suitable  hook,  with  a  good  artilicial 
fly  on  it,  from  a  number  I  had  there.  Out  of  my  pocket  I 
took  a  line,  and  with  my  knife  I  cut  a  pole  from  one  of 
the  clumps  of  trees. 

"You  go  armed,  don't  you  ?"  said  the  conductor,  jovi- 
ally, as  he  watched  inc. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  I  answered  :  "  and  in  the  words  of  General 
Grant,  I'm  prepared  to  light  it  out  on  this  line  all  summer." 

I  was  not  mistaken  in  the  stream.  It  was  full  of  trout, 
and  some  of  them  were  big  fellows,  too.  I  would  have 
spent  all  the  time  lishing,  but  the  conductor  was  interested 
in  the  oven,  and  insisted  upon  trying  it.  I  never  ate  such 
fish  in  my  life  before,  and  as  for  the  conductor,  he  smiled 
all  the  way  to  Ogden,  and  shook  hands  with  me  when  I 
left  him.  Some  of  the  ill-natured  passengers  said  he 
would  surely  be  sick  after  such  an  unusual  fit  of  polite- 
ness, but  you  see  they  felt  ugly  because  they  had  not  had 
any  of  the  trout. 


TOMMY  ANI>  TIIK  PLUMS. 


IT  was  a  summer  morn  in  jr. 
Said  Tom,  "I'll  have  some  fun." 
Ho  started  for  the  orchard 
As  fast  us  he  could  run. 


He    stood    beneath    the 

plum-tree, 
And  this   is  what    he 

said : 
"Those  plums  must  be 

delicious. 

They  look  so  ripe  and 
red. 

"If  I  could  only  roach 

"em 
I'd    have    a    splendid 

treat. 

It's  very  tantalizing: 
They    must    lie    very 
sweet." 


Then  Tommy  jumped  his  highest, 

But   eoiililn't    reach  the  limb 
On   which  the  plums  were  hanging. 
And  seemed  to  mock  at  him. 

They  nodded  and  they  nodded, 
And  they  really  seemed  to  say, 

"\Ve  know  you  can  not  reach  us, 
And  you'd  better  go  and  play." 


The  very  leaves  seemed 
laughing 

As  they  rustled  over- 
head, 

Till  Tom  got  tired  and 
angry. 

And  this  is  what  he 
said: 


' '  I  really  wouldn't  touch  one 
If  it  was  in  my  power; 

The}'  can't  be  worth  the  trouble: 
They  must  be  green  and  sour." 


571 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  MISHAP. 

Poor  Harry  has  dropped  his  howl,  and  it  lies 
here  in  a  half-dozen  pieces.  All  the  nice  bread 
and  milk  is  spoiled  and  (tone.  Never  mind,  little 
111,111  Rnnhiiineiind  tell  mt'.mma.  She  will  give 
you  anot IIIT  breakfast,  and  you  may  eat  it  under 
the  trees  if  you  wish  to,  and  at  the  same  time 
watch  the  birdies  feasting  on  the  crumbs  at  your 
feet.  Perhaps  mamma  will  find  a  way  to  join 
these  bits  together,  and  make  the  bowl  over  again 
as  good  as  new. 

"Never  cry  over  spilled  milk." 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

NAPLES,  ITALY. 

I  think  that  some  of  you  may  like  to  hear  about 
a  small  country  town  called  Laserta.  which  few 
people  know,  although  it  is  almost  as  interesting 
as  Naples.  It  is  about  twenty  miles  from  Na- 
ples, north  of  Vesuvius,  and  lies  near  the  Apen- 
nines. 

Last  year,  when  I  was  thirteen,  my  parents  and 
I  spent  a  few  months  there.  The  place  Is  noted 
for  its  royal  palace  and  surrounding  parks.  The 
palace  is  one  of  the  largest  and  most  beautiful 
in  the  world.  It  was  built  by  a  celebrated  archi- 
tect named  Vanvitelli.  an  Italian,  for  one  of  the 
Kings  of  Naples,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century, when, owing  to  the  constant  revo- 
lutions ii!  Naples,  the  Bourbon  Kings  were  rather 
glad  to  be  out  of  it. 

The  rooms  are  all  large,  the  different-colored 
marble  floors  are  various  and  beautiful,  and  the 
entrance  hall  is  vast,  and  has  some  beautiful  pic- 
tures. The  ball-room  is  very  spacious,  and  is 
still  unfinished,  as  the  ornamental  part  is  not  yet 
done.  One  room  is  lined  on  every  side  with  great 
mirrors. 

The  park  must  have  its  mention  too.  Its  chief 
attraction  is  a  lovely  water-fall,  which  begins 
hiu'h  in  the  hills,  and  becomes  alternately  a  canal, 
where  ducks  and  swans  swim,  and  a  cascade, 
until  it  reaches  a  place  where  it  disappears  un- 
der-ground. There  is  a  great  deal  of  statuary, 
representing  chiefly  gods  and  goddesses. 

There  '  beautiful  lake,  and  many  large  trees 
grow  beside  it.  and  overhung  and  touch  the  wa- 
ter. In  tin.  middle  of  the  lake  there  is  an  island, 
and  on  it  a  small  house  in  the  Pompeiian  style. 
with  broken  statues.  The  oleanders  garland  the 
wall,  and  make  it  lovely  witli  their  dark  irreen 
leaves  and  bright  flowers.  A  barge  is  fastened 
to  a  cord,  by  means  of  which  one  can  pull  one's 
self  fiMin  the  shore  to  the  island.  Many  artists 
keep  their  sketches  in  the  little  house  on  the 
island^ 

I  read  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  there  not  long 
ago,  sitting  beside  the  lake,  on  a  hot  summer's 
day.  under  one  of  the  shady  trees.  It  was  a 
charming  occupation.  BLANCHE  F.  C. 


WATER-TOWN,  NBW  YORK. 

We  are  two  little  girls,  great  friends,  who  both 
take  this  splendid  paper.  We  have  never  seen 
a  letter  from  this  city,  so  we  thought  we  would 
write  one.  We  have  been  out  picking  daisies  and 
buttercups  this  afternoon,  and  have  got  a  large 
pretty  bunch.  Have  any  little  girls  ever  tried  to 
make'  little  old  women  out  of  daisies?  The  way 
they  are  made  is  to  take  a  good-sized  daisy  and 


cut  the  leaves  all  around  half-way  down,  leaving 
two  petals  (for  the  cap-strings)  at  the  bottom. 
Then  take  pen  and  ink  and  make  as  funny  or  as 
pretty  a  face  as  you  choose,  and  the  effect  is  \ery 
droll"  We  send  you  one  by  this  mail,  and  hope 
von  will  get  it  without  its  being  crushed. 

<  LARA  G.  M.  and  EDITH  N.  S. 

The  little  old  lady  was  not  at  all  disturbed  by 
her  journey.    Her  cap  was  not  a  bit  ruffled. 


NEW  HAVEN,  Cc. \\ECTICI-T. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old,  and  have  taken 
your  paper  three  years.  I  have  never  written  a 
letter  to  you  before.  Last  summer  I  was  in  bed 
with  rheumatism  four  weeks,  and  it  was  so  plea- 
sant for  me  when  Tuesday  came  and  brought 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  me  to  read.  I  have  no  brother 
or  sister  and  for  pets  have  a  canary  bird  named 
Bob  Gohtenfeather;  he  is  a  fine  singer.  And  I 
have  a  Maltese  cat  named  Tippy-toes  ;  he  weighs 
sixteen  pounds,  and  is  very  intelligent.  I  must 
copy  some  lines  written  by  a  young  lady  friend 
of  mine  on  something  that  happened  to  Tip  : 

In  the  City  of  Elms  there  dwelt  a  cat, 

A  cat  of  high  degree  : 
Big  and  glossy,  sleek  and  fat, 

A  king  among  cats  was  he. 

He  lived  on  the  very  daintiest  fare, 

The  choicest  the  land  could   boast— 

Cream  and  canaries  cooked  with  care, 
And  humming-birds  fried  on  toast. 

From  the  tip  of  his  nose  to  the  end  of  his  tail 

He  was  clad  in  a  Quaker  gray. 
Except  each  toe  and  little  toe-nail, 

Which  were  milk-white,  strange  to  say. 

And  so  they  christened  him  Tippy-toes— 

\  singular  name  for  a  cat; 
But  this  ( Hive  street  feline,  as  you  may  suppose, 
Was  a  liigh-bred  aristocrat ! 

It  happened  on  one  fateful  day 

In  balmy,  bright  September ; 
That  dreadful  day,  though  brief  its  stay, 

Tip  ever  will  remember. 

He  scented  dinner  in  the  air, 
His  noonday  meal  of  dainties  rare. 
And  bounded  to  the  kitchen,  where 
The  cook  arranged  his  bill  of  fare. 

Ah  1  luckless  haste  !    Unhappy  Tip 

Past  Aunty  Julia  tried  to  slip; 
She  closed  the  door  as  he  flew  through. 

And  almost  sawed  poor  Tip  in  two. 

He  rose  from  that  a-doonng  grip 
A  sadder  and  a  wiser  Tip. 

Our  cook  was  very  fond  of  Tip,  and  he  of  her, 
but  our  visitor.  Aunt  J.,  did  not  like  cats,  and 
Tip  never  forgave  her  for  the  accident.  M.  A. 


doing  so  was  unable  to  get  out.  My  brother  did 
not  let  I  hcj  snake  escape  alive.  We  felt  very  sor- 
ry, for  t  lie  bird  was  a  beautiful  singer.  We  do  nc  ,t 
cage  mocking-birds  here,  they  are  so  tame.  It  is 
cruel  to  cage  birds.  The  mocking-bird  is  a  very 
interesting  bird,  and  there  are  a  great  many  here 
among  the  orange  groves.  We  have  birds  and 
flowers  all  the  year.  Aly  brothers  take  HARPER'S 
YOUNC.  PEOPLE!  and  it  is  a  welcome  guest  in  the 
family.  EVA  J.  II. 

Many  thanks  to  the  lady  who  kindly  sent  the 
Postmistress  a  budget  of  letters  from  her  little 
pupils  at  Farmington,  Connecticut.  We  have 
not  room  for  all,  though  all  are  entitled  to 
praise.  M.  A.  F.,  Lizzie  C..  Julia  B..  Minnie  i 
Mary  A.  L.,  Jessie  A.  II.,  Maude  M.  P.,  A.  D.  H., 
Henrietta  S.  H.,  Nellie  R..  Hattie  P.,  F.  J.  ('..  and 
Oracle  M.  H.,  you  have  each  received  a  good 
mark.  F.  J.  C.  is  yery  considerate  in  collecting 
birds'  eggs,  and  I  am  glad  lie  obeys  his  teacher  in 
taking  only  one  egg  from  any  nest.  Here  is  Ora- 
cle's letter : 

FARMINT.TON.  CONNECTICUT. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  I  will  tell  you 
how  I  happened  to  have  YOUNG  PEOPLE  to  read. 
The  teacher  and  we  scholars  built  the  fire  our- 
selves this  last  winter  at  school,  and  we'  sent  the 
money  we  saved  in  this  way  to  the  Harpers  for 
YOUNG  PEOPLE.  We  all  have  it  to  read  every  week. 
Teacher  excused  us  from  our  spelling  lesson  to- 
day so  that  we  could  write  to  the  Post-office  Box. 
I  have  one  sister:  her  name  is  Jessie.  I  never 
had  to  stand  on  the  floor  in  my  life.  We  have  to 
speak  every  t  w  o  weeks.  Teacher  gave-  us  each  a 
pansy,  and' we-  are  all  going  to  count  the-  blos- 
soms and  tell  her  how  many  we  have  had  at  the. 
end  of  the  term,  to  see  which  had  the  best  luck. 
My  mamma  and  papa  do  not  know  I  am  writing. 
This  is  the  first  letter  I  ever  wrote  to  any  paper, 
and  I  hope  it  is  not  too  long  to  print. 

<;RACIE  MAY  H. 


HOUOKEN,  NKW  JERSEY. 

A  great  many  girls  in  my  class  take  YOUNG 
PEOPLE,  myself  among  the  number.  I  am  eleven 
years  old,  and  go  to  school.  Dear  Postmistress, 
did  you  like  to  study  grammar  when  >mi  were  a 
little  girl  ?  I  can  not  say  that  I  do.  We  are  right 
in  the  middle  of  our  examination.  I  think  "Nan" 
was  a  splendid  story.  BERTIE  L. 

Yes,  dear,  I  did  like  grammar,  and  like  it  still. 


ELLERSHOUSE,  ENGLAND. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  I  live  in  a  little 
country  place, close  to  the  railway  station.  Our 
house  i's  shaded  in  front  by  elm  and  acacia  trees. 
The  orchard  and  garden  are  inclosed  by  a  spruce 
hedge.  We  have  pears,  plums,  grapes,  and  140 
apple-trees,  and  a  nice  kitchen-garden.  It  is  a 
very  pretty  place,  especially  in  the  summer 
months.  We  have  a  fine  large  church,  a  large 
hall,  two  school-houses,  besides  other  nice  build- 
ings. I  like  my  school  and  teacher  very  much. 
I  hope  you  will  not  think  I  am  too  backward  in 
my  studies.  I  read  in  the  Fifth  Royal  Header, 
study  geography,  grammar,  and  spelling,  cipher 
in  decimal  tractions,  and  draw  for  an  hour  every 
Monday  and  Wednesday  afternoons.  I  have  no 
pets  like  many  of  the  little  girls  I  read  of.  but 
my  sister  Florie  has  a  Maltese  cat  that  can  open 
the  door.  I  have  a  little  sister  four  months  old. 
She  is  so  small  that  we  all  pet  her.  IDA  M.  S. 


ORANGE,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  would  like  to  see  a,  letter  published  from 
Southern  California.  I  will  tell  you  about  a 
mocking-oird  I  had.  I  found  a  mocking-bird's 
nest  with  four  eggs  in  it.  hut  I  did  not  touch 
them,  and  watched  anxiously  for  them  to  be 
hatched.  One  day  as  I  approached  the  nest  the 
old  birds  seemed  worried,  and  pecked  my  head 
and  hit  my  ears  with  their  wings  with  more 
anger  than  ever,  when  I  discovered  only  two 
eggs  in  the  nest.  On  going  there  the  third  day  I 
found  one  bird  hatched,  leaving  one  egg,  which 
did  not  hatch.  When  the  little  bin)  had  feather-  | 
ed  out  and  was  nearly  ready  to  fly.  it  had  hopped 
out  of  the  nest  on  the  ground,  where  it  was  in 
danger  of  its  life,  there  being  snakes  about,  and 
the  butcher-bird,  which  will  ent  t  hi  t  hroai  s  of  all 
birds  it  can.  and  also  cats  and  dogs,  which  do 
not  hesitate  to  kill  a  bird  :  and  to  save  the  bird's 
life  I  put  it  in  a  cage  and  hung  it  on  the  top  of  a. 
fig-tree,  where  the  old  birds  fed  it  every  day.  I 
thought  by  having  it  caged  a  few  days 'it  would 
be  able  to  fly  and  keep  out  of  its  enemies'  reach, 
when  I  would  let  it  loose.  One  morning  I  saw 
my  brother  coming  to  the  house  with  the  cage  in 
his  h:iii'l.  :ini|  a-  lie  approached  I  saw  a  snake 
hanging  half-way  out  of  the  cage,  and  the  bird 
was  missinir.  The  snake  was  a  small  gopher,  and 
it  had  crawled  up  the  body  of  the  tree,  then  into 
the  cage,  where  it  swallowed  the  bird,  and  after 


THE  OIANT  KING  AND  HIS  LITTLE 

FRIENDS. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  mighty  Giant 
King  who  was  a  very  kind  man,  and  there  were 
none  he  loved  more  than  the  little  dwarfs  and 
fairies.  He  gave  them  gifts  of  all  kinds,  from 
palaces  and  houses  to  live  in  to  horses  and  pi  mies 
to  ride.  He  was  very  careful  that  they  should 
have  all  they  needed  in  the  way  of  food  and  clot  h- 
ing.  Imleed.it  seemed  as  if  all  he  used  his  money 
lor  was  to  make  them  comfortable.  They  loved 
him  in  return,  but  could  not  think  of  any  way  to 
repay  him  for  his  great  kindness.  The  Queen  of 
the  Fairies  thought  and  thought,  and  one  night 
gathered  them  all  about  her,  and  said  :  "  I  know 
you  all  wish  to  do  something  for  our  friend  who 
has  been  so  kind  to  us,  and  I  have  a  plan  to  pro- 
pose. It  is  this,  to  go  to  the  Gnomes'  Mine  and 
each  select  a  different  kind  of  precious  stone,  all 
as  nearly  of  the  same  si/.e  as  possible.  These  we 
will  shape  like  little  balls,  and  polish  them  by 
means  of  wands  which  the  Gnome  King  will  give 
us.  After  we  finish  them  we  will  bring  them  to 

the  King."    They  all  thought  this  a  g i  plan, 

and  acted  upon  it  the  next  day.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  the  mine  they  were  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  Gnome  King,  who,  after  liMi  n- 
ing  to  their  plan,  gave  them  wands,  as  the  Fairy 
Qneen  had  said,  and  ordered  one  of  his  subjects 
to  escort  them  through  the  rooms  of  the  mine, 
and  let  them  choose  the  jewels  they  wanted, 
which  they  then  put  on  the  floor  before  them 
and  rolled  them  to  and  fro  with  their  wands 
until  they  were  round  and  polished.  Then  re- 
turning their  thanks  to  the  Gnome  King,  they  *.r. 
out  for  the  Giant  King's  palace  and  presented 
him  with  the  jewels.  Then  they  returned  to 
their  homes,  and  there  they  lived  long  and  pros- 
pered. And  thus  ends  my  story  of  "The  Giant 
King  and  his  Little  Friends." 

EDITH  M.  P.  (aged  10  years). 

PEAKL  CRtEK,  NEW  YORK. 


HASSOCK'S,  SL-RSK*,  ENGLAND. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— Since  I  wrote  to  you  last 
year  we  h:iye  had  a  very  great  trouble,  for  my 
dear  father  died  last  March,  and  we  do  miss  him 
so  much  '  We  used  to  live  in  Brighton,  but  we 
have  moved  into  the  country  now.  The  other 
day  my  sivter  Kva  lell  into  the  brook,  and  e very- 
thing  she  had  on  was  wet  through,  excepting  her 
hat  ;  she  got  hold  of  a  root  and  pulled  her^-lf 
out. but  herdolly  floated  away.  Mieeried  sothat  I 
was  obliged  to  go  and  fetch  it  out.  \Ve  ran  home 
as  fast  as  we  could,  so  she  did  not  catch  cold.  I 
can  not  go  out  to-day,  as  last  night  I  ran  the  fork 


.iri.V   in.  1883. 


HARPEITS  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


575 


into  my  foot  as  I  was  digging  up  the  garden.  I 
do  Dot  go  to  school  now.  bill  mamma  teaches 
Eva  and  me  at  home.  Harold  is  not  quite  old 
enough  to  study  yet.  I  liked  "  Nan"  very  much. 
and  -o  did  mamma  I  hope  Jimmy  Brown  will 
write  again.  Good-by.  With  love. 

PEIICV  WILLIAM  s 

ABBEVILLE,  SIH-TH  CAT.  ,i  is  i, 

I  am  a  girl  eleven  years  old.  My  father  is  the 
editor  of  the  Abbeville  .)/.  He  gave  my  sister 
Ann.-  ami  myself  a  ca-e  I ol. -a I'll  to  print  I  have 
four  sisters  and  one  brother.  U  .-  lii"  .  .n  a  hill, 
and  down  in  tin-  valley  is  a  beautiful  stream 
(lowing.  There  is  a  mass  of  willows  growing  over 
il.  and  plenty  of  -ra--  In  one  place  there  i-  a 
torn-up  bridge ;  it  is  quite  picturesque,  our  house 
i-  a  1  w..--tory  house,  with  a  large  trout  and  back 
yard  \\  .  have  a  In--.-  orchard,  with  plenty  ot" 
tine  fruit  trees.  The  railroad  runs  righl  in  Iron! 
ot  'the  1 1  on -e  We  hal  e  I  \\  o  eo\\  -.  t  Ule  is  named 

I  la  i -v.  and  the  other  II ri mile. 

May  1  join  the  Little  Housekeepers!  1  like  to 
cook  when  then-  is  m  . thing  lo  bother  I  made 
tin-  dinner  bi-euit-  to-daj  I  ''.in  make  pound- 
cake I  hale  a  pel  kitten  ami  a  pel  rat. bit  I 
have  a  talent  for  drawing  I'apa  is  piling  lo  let 
me  lake  drawing  le-s.ms  I  am  going  to  the 
counti-\  I'M-  -nmnier.  and  I  expect  to  have  a 
good  time,  I  have  never  -ecu  a  Idler  from  here 
heloi-e.  or  nearer  this  than  ( ;reeni  ille.  and  that 
waa  Irotn  Nannie  I).  I  think,  with  Susie  s  and 
Mabel  M.  S..  that  there  is  no  story  paper  ..r  ho.  .k 
like  II  MILK'S  \  in  XG  I'Kori.L.  cine  of  your  girls, 

1 1  \ '.  \  \  1 1  II 

I  am  glad  yoti  are  learning  lo  -et  i  y  p.-.  ami  l  hat 
lot]  think  of  learning  to  draw,  while  you  already 

know  how  t..  i k  -..me  things      You  must   be 

superior  to  "bother"  if  you  wi-h  t..  be  a  house- 
keeper, dear  child. 


here.  In  five  years  from  now  we  expi-et  to  have 
a  L'rand  eentennial  celebration  in  our  beautiful 
city. 

Yesterday  I  \  Kited  our  eemetery,  which  we 
call  Mound  Cemetery,  mi  account  of' a  very  large 
mound  that  stands  in  the  centre  of  it, supposed 
to  ha\e  been  built  by  a  race  of  people  called  the 
Mound-builders.  This  mound  is  ab<  nit  sixty  feet 
high,  and  about  two  hundred  >anU  in  circumfer- 
ence at  the  base.  with  a  ditch  running  around  it. 
We  have  other  works  i.f  these  builders,  but  it 
WonM  make  my  letler  to,.  ]on^  to  describe  them 
all.  Mam  ma  [  loin  l.  1 1  out  to  me  the  grave  of  (Jen- 
era  1  liufus  Putnam,  and  also  that  of  Commodore 
Abraham  \\  hippie,  who  lived  here  in  Marietta, 
and  built  and  sailed  out  of  the  Ohio  River  with 
the  fir-t  i e--ei  i^uit'  -a  number  of  the  pioneers 
are  buried  here.  J.  UEHBEKT  W. 

Herbert.  I  regret  that  I  could  not  have  gin -n 
your  letter  a  place  a  little  sooner.  You  must 
write  again 


SVBACUSI,  NCH    Y',I:K 

I  take  HARPER'S  YofNi:  PEOPLE,  and  think  it  is 
very  nice.  I'apa  had  the  numbers  bound  into 
l  tui •••  la  i  i:e  volumes  for  me.  1  have  a  d.-ar  little 
biol  her  three  >ears  old  :  I  am  Seven.  I  have  nev 

el-  been   lo  school          I   I  III  I  I  a  pi   I   rat    t  -  ' !'  1  1 1  M   I  •  Vl   al -. 

but  at  last  -he  ran  awai  l:  1 1  ril  It.  B. 

Thanks  for  the  dai-ie-  which  cairn-  with  your 
letter,  and  ki-s  niainma  for  the  dear  little  note 
she  -cut  with  yours. 

JOHNNIE'S  ACCIDENT. 

I  am  coins  to  write  not  a  letter  Inn  a  story 
aboiu  ;i  boy  named  Johnnie.  He  was  in  genera  I 
a  u'ood  boy.  but.  like  other  children,  he  had  some 
faults,  ami  one  of  them  was  curio-ity.  If  his 
papa  or  mamma  brought  in  a  bundle,  Johnnie 
was  always  the  first  to  oi.cn  it.  whether  it  was 
for  him  or  for  somebmly  else.  His  sister  Nannie 
called  him  Peeping. John,  which  served  him  right. 

One  day  his  mother  called  him  into  the  parlor 
and  said,  "Johnnie,  how  would  yon  like  to  go 
and  visit  Aunt  Martha'-" 

Aunt  Martha  lived  in  tin.  country.  Johnnie 
jumped  up  and  down  for  joy.  of  course  he  was 
wild  to  no.  (  m  Friday  lie  was  ready,  and  set  out, 
a  happy  boy. 

After  he  had  been  there  two  or  three  days  he 
thought  he  could  go  anywhere  by  himself,  and 
told  Aunt  Martha  he  was  going  fora  walk. 

The  had  boy  really  went  out  birdnestiiig.  He 
soon  spied  a  tall  tree,  on  which  was  a  nest.  Up 
he  climbed,  when  the  branch  broke,  and  down  he 
fell  on  his  back.  Some  men  in  afield  nearby  saw 
tins  happen,  and  ran  to  the  rescue.  One  of  them 
was  rnele  Fred.  Aunt  Martha's  husband. 

Johnnie  was  carried  to  the  house,  put  to  bed. 
the  doctor  was  called,  and  a  telegram  was  sent 
for  his  papa  and  mamma.  It  was  a  Ion.;  while 
before  he  got  well,  and  he  was  never,  never 
known  to  go  after  a  bird's  nest  again,  and  he 
also  stopped  peeping.  ALICE  S.  (aged  11). 


HAMAKDOPOKOMAUI,  SANDWICH  IRLAMIS. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  My  brother 
takes  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I 
can.  I  ride  horseback.  I  used  to  ride  on  a  man's 
saddle,  but  I  have  learned  to  ride  with  a  side- 
saddle. I  live  in  a  small  yard,  but  I  have  a  little 
pii:.  and  a  cat  and  two  kittens,  and  a  doll  to  play 
with,  A  long  time  ago,  when  I  was  a  little  girl 
about  five  years  old.  I  saw  a  calf  with  a  double 
head.  I  can  see  the  sea  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  side  the  mountain  called  Haleakala,  which 
has  the  largest  extinct  crater  in  the  world.  I 
will  put  a  Kanaka  sentence  in  that  I  have  learn- 
ed since  I  have  been,  here,  "Oe  aole  maikai  oe 
lolo."  It  means,  "You  are  no  good, yon  are  silly." 
I  have  lived  here  seven  years.  EMMA  W. 


MARIETTA,  OHM.. 

This  is  the  third  year  I  have  taken  YOTNG  PEO- 
PLE, and  although  I  take  other  papers,  I  like  this 
the  best,  of  all.  Mamma  has  the  numbers  bound 
for  me  every  year,  and  they  make  beautiful 
books.  I  read  a  letter  in  the  Post-office  Box  one 
week  from  Marietta.  Pennsylvania,  but  have  nev- 
er seen  one  from  Marietta, Ohio.  This  city  is  built 
•where  the  first  settlement  was  made  in  ( Jhio.  and 
on  Saturday,  the  7th  of  April,  we  celebrated  the 
ninety-fifth  anniversary  of  the  first  settlement 


I  am  a  subscriber  to  the  paper,  and  I  like  it 

\el\       Milled.    .   -p.ei.llly     the      I'o-toftiee     \'ttt\     aml 

"l;ai-inir  th.  -pearl'"  1  am  a  boy  fourteen 
year-  of  age.  T  have  no  brother  n-.r  -i-tei-  li\  in::. 

I  live  with  my  papa  and  mamma  at  the  lamons 
Watering    place,    l:un-ka    Springs.      |    have    been 

here    eighteen   monlllS.        We   think   of  L-""  I II  g   llollle 

next  week  to  1 1 1 inoi s.  w  here  my  papa  ha-  a  farm, 
ami  when- all  my  relations  live;  I  am  very  anx- 
ious to  B66  them  and  nn  pet  -  i  ha  \  e  a  pel  -h.-ep. 

a  canary-bird,  and  a  dog.  My  papa  Bays  he  i- 
going  In  buy  me  a  pony  and  a  -a, Idle  if  I  am  a 

:: i  I.,  '>  and  apply  myself  to  my  stui 

"  GEORGE   A.  T. 

Fa  \or<  are  acknowledged  from  Kilna  II. .Wal- 
ter I... I..  l.iiLvm-.  Ilii-li   (i.  S.    M.II   haie  i|uite  a 

flock  ot  . -hiek-  to  eal'e   fo|- '.  Hurry   W.   F..  Mlir)    II., 

Kiltlmiinc  V.  I. nu  i.-  'I.,  \\all.-r  I-:.  W.    you  navi    a 

very  I •  opinion  of  Mada'u  I'u--:  nio-l   o|   ihe 

h.  ,\  -  and  L'irl-  .1.  .  not  aL'lVe  v.  it  h  >  on  .  Njlllrii-  U"., 
Nannie  \\ .  .-em|  your  receipt-,  dear  ,  l.i//ii-  V.  I1., 
W  illhini  T..  lilu  M.  It..  Itnss  IE.,  llrli-n  S..  It.  N.  I)., 

II  n  h.n  V.  W..  I  Mil  I..  I...  Ji'iinli-  J..  llnis)  I,..  Ku- 
10.  i   II..  Hny  I.  S.,  '1  nun.  S..  I  i../i.    I ..  n  n  i      ami 
Jlilttic    II..  I- I  hi  v..  Viilic   Vt.  IV..  1  lini-r    II..  I  .  n. i 
II..  Viiini  II..  It.'ssie  W..  Kiltie  V.  A.,  \i-llir  A..  II- 
lii-  K..  KlIiHinihi.  (o-rtruile  I*,  i  thanks  for  the  pn-t 
i\   ..n  I      II.-SM,.  I!.   V..  Alum  (.  ('..  Harry   IV.  It.. 
Ilidi-n  M..  Kleirs  I...  and  Philip  11.  .  why  n.  .1  collect 
moths  and  butterllies:-     you  would  find   that  an 
interesting  way  to  pass  the  time..     LoiiKi-  3li-K.  : 
I  hope  you  will  grow  perfectly  well  this  summer. 

I).  K.  s. :  \\  lit,,  again,  dear. 


RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  IIorsKKKKPF.HS. 

Pop  ..\  KI:S.  one  i|iiart  of  milk,  seven  I-L-L--.  a 
little  salt. a  little  more  than  a  table  -poontnl  of 
melted  butler,  and  Honrenongh  tomakea  hatter 
as  stiff  as  buckwheat  cakes:  beat  the  eggs  Until 
very  light,  but  not  separately;  bake  in  cups  in  a 
hot  oven  for  i half  hour. 

<jr  KKN'S  CAKI:  --one  cup  of  butter,  two  of  flour, 
two  of  siiL'ar.  one  of  cornstarch.  one  of  sweet 
milk,  t \\ "  lea  spoonfuls  of  cream  of  tartar,  one 

of  soda,  the  whites  ot  seven  eggs,  and  a  little  \a- 

nilla  ;  bake  until  il  is  a  light  brown.        I).  K.  s. 
CrpCt-sTAKi.     one  i  •:::: beaten  to  a  froth,  three- 

c,uarters  of  a  cup  of  milk,  two  tea-si ntuls  of 

sugar,  a  pinch  ol  salt,  and  a  little  grated  nutnn  ::  : 
beat  thoroughly  together:  pour  into  a  coffee-cup  : 
bake  until  it  is  brown,  and  then  take  it  out. 

1. iil-ls   U.  S. 

CREAM-CAKE.— One  egg,  one  cup  of  sugar. 

table-spoonful  of  butter,  two-thirds  of  a  cup  of 

milk,  two  tea  s] nfuls  of  baking  powder,  one 

tea-spoonful  of  vanilla,  one  and  two-third  cnps 
of  Hour,  and  salt  :  bake  as  for  jelly-cake,  in  three 
layers.  Cream  for  the  above  :  one  half-pint  of 
milk,  one  egg.  one  tea-spoonfnl  of  cornstarch, 

one  table-spoonful  of  flour,  two  table-s] nfuls 

of  siiLrar.  ami  a  little  vanilla:  scald  your  milk  ; 
beat  your  sugar,  flour.  <-ag,  and  cornstarch  to- 
gether; let  it  boil  until  it.  becomes  thick:  add  a 
little  salt:  spread  each  layer  with  this  custard, 
and  put  them  together.  The  above  is  nice  for 
jelly-cake. 

SPONGE  GINGER  CAKE. — Melt  together  half  a 
coffee  cupful  each  of  butter  and  molasses ;  then 
stir  in  half  a  coffee-cupful  each  of  sugar  and  cold 
water ;  then  adit  one  table-spoonful  of  ginger, 
one  egg,  two  and  a  half  eoffee-cupfuls  of  sifted 
tlo:ir.  and  four  tea-spoonfuls  of  baking  powder; 
bake  in  a  moderate  oven. 

SPICE  CAKE. — Half  a  cupful  of  hutter,  one  cup- 
ful of  brown  sugar,  two  and  a  half  cupfuls  of 
flour,  one  tea-spoonful  of  baking  powder,  four 
yolks  of  eggs,  half  a  cupful  of  milk,  two  tea 
spoonfuls  of  cinnamon,  one  of  allspice,  and  half 
a  tea-spoonful  of  cloves ;  rub  the  butter  and  sugar 
to  a  cream :  add  the  ei:^s  :  beat  a  few  minutes  ; 
then  add  the  flour,  baking-powder,  spices,  and 
milk,  and  mix  into  a  smooth  batter,  rather  firm  ; 
have  a  paper-lined  cake-tin  ;  bake  in  a  rather 
quick  oven.  MARY  E.  C. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No  1 

Two    KASV    MoKIl    M^rATtES. 

1.— 1.  Something  nobody  will  ever  have  a  -.  .- 
ond  linn  -.'  something  that  means  going  bet.. re. 
:i.  What  rocks  refuse  to  do.  4.  What  school-boys 
i  to  be  done  with. 

£.— 1.  To  domineer.  S.  Upper.  :!.  A  girl's  name. 
4.  To  attract.  i  in  \  and  KAI.UIE. 


No.  S. 
TWO  CHARADES. 

1    My  first  you  find  when  summer 

Has  clothed  ihe  fields  \\iih  green, 
And  hidden  close  in  folds  of  -ilk 
The  tasselled  corn  is  seen. 

My  second  may  be  hanging 

From  yonder  leafy  bough, 
Or  tangled  in  the  grasses— 

A  ho both  fair  and  low. 

\l\  \\  hole  should  every  student  be, 
If  he  would  toil  .successfully. 

MOTHKI:  lirNrn. 

2.  You  enter  my  first  by  my  second. 
.Mi  whole  is  a  place  of  rep..-,. 

A  i. ICE  HARDY. 

No.  :!. 

TWO  EASY   DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  consonant.  •-'.  I!y  way  of.  :i.  A  music- 
al instrument.  4  An  insect,  f).  A  vowel. 

-'  1  \  consonant.  'J.  Timid.  3.  F I  4  A 

tropical  fruit.  5.  A  consonant.  .1  r.  II. 


N...  4. 

A   HARDER   DIAMOND. 

1.  Inconsiderate.  3.  A  chief.  ::.  Confusion.  4. 
A  puzzle.  .1.  A  litter.  0.  The  upward  curve  of 
the  Hues  of  a  ship.  7.  In  considi  rate. 

BANTAM. 

N,.   5. 

ENIGMA. 

In  pumpkin,  not  in  squash. 

In  rinse,  not  in  \\  ash. 

In  eat,  not  in  drink. 

In  put.  not  in  link. 

In  round,  not  in  square. 

In  sorrow,  not  in  care. 

In  ink.  not  in  pen. 

Not  in  four,  but  in  ten. 

In  iron,  not  in  ore. 

N..t  in  sleep,  but  in  snore. 

In  moan,  not  in  screech. 

My  whole  is  a  part  of  speech. 

DKP.TIE  B. 

No,  I'.. 
HIDDEN    FRI'ITS. 

1.  Rip  each   garment   up,  Ernest.     2.  He  can 
chop  lumber  well.     :i.  Thai!  ate  it  all  up.     4.  I  an 
you  understand  this  figure  ''.     a.  See  that,  Moslem 
on  the  river-bank.    0.  Go  live  with  Mary,  Amy. 
MAGGIE  A.  ST. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  190X 
No.  1.  II    I    P  RAN 

IRE  ATE 

PEA  NET 


No.  2. 


L  I  P 
I  S  A 
PAT 

PROA 
ROLL 
O  L  G  A 
ALAS 


FEW 
K  W  E 
W  E  N 

UPAS 
PAR  T 
AREA 

S  T  A  R 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 
No.  5.  N  a  pies. 

\  t  liens. 

1*  yrenees. 

o  Ho, 

L  inz. 

K  Iba. 

o  hi. 


Milk-maid.    Nameless. 
Monosyllable. 
B  rest. 
O  mega. 
N  egropont. 

\     /.of 

P  ietermaritz. 

A  rctic. 

I.'    ussia 


N  ijni  Novgorod.     T  asmania. 

E  hrenbreitser. 

Answer  to  "Who  Was  He?"  on  page  544  of  No. 
191 — Thomas  Babbington  Macaulay. 


Correct  answers  to  puz/.les  have  been  received 
from  Nellie  F.,  Amy  M.,  Mattie  M.  Beck.  Edgar 
Thomas.  Fales  Griffin,  C.  Hascall,  R.  Cavanna, 
Edith  Sinclair.  Lucy  Dart.  May  N.  Shafer.  Willie 
Pink.  Tom  Pullison.  Robbie  McGregor.  Talbot 
i  lark.  James  Utley,  Bantam,  Frankiefi.  Prentice, 
Peacock.  May  Arnold,  Elsie  Button,  Viola,  Daisy 
Douglas.  Minna  <;.  E.,  Otto.  Edwin,  George  and 
01  to.  <  arrie  and  Charlie  I..  Dora  D.,  Josephine  S. 
B..  John  W.,  John  Y.  C'.,  Harry,  Frank  May,  and 
Budget.  

[For  Exchanges,  see  2rf  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


576 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIVE  little  birds  and  five  little  boys, 
All  of  them  making  a  terrible  noise ; 
The  boys  to  drive  the  birds  away, 
The  birds  because  they'd  rather  stay. 

For  Japanese  boys  and  Japanese  crows 
Can  always  be  found  where  the  white 
rice  grows; 


JAPANESE  FAN  TALES. 

BY  KIRK  J1UNROE. 


The  other  ends  are  gathered  tight 
By  her  whose  age  gives  her '  the  right. 
Each  one,  as  she  draws  a  prize. 
From  her  place  must  quickly  rise. 

A  small  white  dog  is  Shiro, 
And  happy  as  he  can  be, 


The   crows   say  "  caw,"  but    the   boys  say 

"  shoo!" 
And  wave  their  sticks  of  long  bamboo. 

To  be  a  scarecrow  in  old  Japan 

Is  fun  alive  to  a  little  man. 

And  to  him  there  is  nothing  that  tastes  so 

nice 
As  sweetened  cakes  of  fine  white  rice. 


Here  you  have  a  pretty  game. 
Played  in  all  Japan  the  same; 
"Apple  luck"  they  call  it  there, 
Anil  each  player  gets  a  share. 

Every  apple  in  the  basket 
Has  a  name,  but  do  not  ask  it; 
Kei'p  the  one  you  chance  tn  Lirl 
Without  a  murmur  of  regret. 


Some  are  wealth,  or  love,  or  beauty, 
Others  industry,  or  duty. 
As  the  players  sit  in  line, 
Each  one  holds  an  end  of  twine. 


Playing  with  two  little  girls, 

( Make  and  Tome, 

outside  the  school-house  door, 

In  Jamagata  city; 
But  if  he  eats  the  name  card  up 

It  will  be  a  pity; 
For  on  the  wall  it  ought  to  hang, 

Just  over  Tome's  seat, 
In  a  row  with  all  the  others, 

And  like  them  clean  and  neat. 
()-kama-san.  the  teacher,  calls, 

"Now.  children,  come  to  school, 
And  do  not  soil  a  name  card, 

For  that's  against  the  rule." 
To  the  dog  she  says,  "Go  home,  sir, 

We  do  not  want  you  now." 
And  Shiro  answers,  "Yes,  ma'am," 

With  a  Japanese  bow-wow. 


AN  INDIAN  GAME. 

KOUUXGATTAM  ;  OH,  THE  MONKEY  GAME. 

TWO  or  more  boys  go  up  a  tree  and  constantly  move  up  and 
down,  each  keeping  to  a  branch  by  himself.  A  large  circle 
is  drawn  round  the  foot  of  the  tree,  in  which  an  active  boy  is 
pasted  to  move  round  and  round  and  watch  the  boys  above. 
One  at  a  time  may  come  down  the  tree,  and,  jumping  on  the 
ground  v  ithiu  the  circle,  run  away,  evading  the  hold  or  touch 


of  the  guard  posted  in  it.  The  sport  lies  in  the  bo.ys  above  at- 
tempting to  comedown  from  the  tree,  and  the  one  below  striving 
to  touch  them. 

Should  any  one  on  the  tree  cease  to  move  for  one  moment,  <>r 
get  into  a  branch  already  occupied  by  another,  or  be  touched  by 
the  boy  below,  or  jump  down  on  the  ground  outside  the  circum- 
ference of  the  circle,  he  is  counted  '•  dead."  The  boys  on  the 
tree  may  exchange  positions  by  leaping,  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  from  one  branch  to  another.  This  often  gives  relief,  and 
adds  variety  to  the  sport. 


.^J 
VAGABOND    LIFE. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANi1  ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  194.  PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  July  IT,  1883. 


Copyright,  1M3,  by  lining  &  BBUTHKBB. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


-•?:^a&£ 


"IN  HONOR  BOUND." 


AUTHOR  OF  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "NAX,"  ETC.,  ETC.  ""^^^Li-L-'5!^;-^ 


fair  had  certainly  been  a  success, 
so  far  as  enjoyment  and  profit  were 
concerned.      Before  the  storm  broke,  the 
tables  were  all  cleared,  and  the  girls  gath- 
ered together  in  the  school-room,  a  mer- 
ry, excited,  eager  crowd,  each  one  anxious  to  talk  over 
the  day's  experiences,  and  to  contribute  to  the  general  de- 
light of  the  occasion  by  repeating  the  various  little  amus- 
ing incidents  which  had  befallen  her  during  the  afternoon. 

Hattie  Barnes,  trying  to  hang  affectionately  upon  Kit- 
ty's arm,  was  very  loud  and  demonstrative  as  she  described 
Amy  Rodman's  discomfiture  on  being  told  that  the  aprons 
were  sixteen  dollars  apiece. 

"  You  should  have  seen  her,  girls,"  said  Hattie,  with  a 


KITTY    ACTING    AS    AMY'S    NURSE. 

little  giggle.  "She  twisted  this  way  and  that,  and  look- 
ed mortified  to  death." 

Kitty  turned  rather  a  piercing  glance  upon  Hattie. 
"  Did  she  r  she  said,  calmly,  and  Hattie  hurried  to  say, 

"  Well,  she  looked  awfully  ashamed,  anyhow." 

Little  May  Blake  glanced  furtively  at  Kitty  before  she 
ventured  to  say,  "I  don't  suppose  she'll  ever  be  so  mean 
again." 

'"Well,"  said  Kitty,  slowly,  indeed,  almost  solemnly, 


578 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


and  as  though  the  words  had  long  been  forming  themselves 
in  a  very  perplexed  mind.  "  I  hope,  girls,  it's  the  last  time 
we'll  be  quite  so  mean.  Oh,  I  know  what  you  are  going 
to  say,  Hattie:  it  was  I  who  suggested  it.  I  know  it, 
and  that's  why  I  am  speaking  now.  I  blame  myself 
heartily,  because—  And  here  Kitty's  honest  face  col- 
ored. "Do  you  know,  as  she  stood  there  looking  at  us 
when  we  told  her  those  ridiculous  prices,  something  made 
me  suddenly  feel  myself  not  half  the  lady  she  was.  I 
felt  we  had  done  a  real  vulgar  sort  of  thing.  There!'' 

"Why,  Kitty  r  cried  May. 

"Yes,  I  did,  though,''  persisted  the  general-in-chief, 
with  rather  a  hysterical  sort  of  gurgle,  though  she  tried 
to  command  her  thin  features.  "It  came  over  me  all 
in  a  sort  of  rush,  and  I  thought  how  could  we  possibly 
know  what  her  reasons  may  be.  Girls" — and  here  the 
general's  tones  grew  very  impressive — "I  believe  that 
there  is  something  in  Amy's  life  that  we  know  nothing 
about." 

There  was  profound  silence  after  this.  The  girls,  who 
were  seated  around  the  wood  fire  which  Miss  Harrington 
had  had  kindled  in  the  stove  when  the  storm  began,  look- 
ed at  each  other  with  wondering,  perplexed  faces.  They 
had  so  long  been  accustomed  to  follow  Kitty's  leadership 
that  never  for  one  moment  had  it  occurred  to  them  to 
question  her  loudly  expressed  prejudice  against  Amy  Rod- 
man ;  but  now  it  was  hard  to  turn  so  suddenly  in  an  op- 
posite direction;  too  hard  for  Hattie's  narrow  mind,  for 
she  burst  out  with, 

"Shame,  Kitty,  to  change  so!  Remember  all  you  said 
only  this  morning."  Hattie's  voice  was  so  shrill  that  it 
seemed  a  part  of  the  storm  that  was  beating  against  the 
windows. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  likely  to  forget?"  cried  Kitty,  with 
blazing  eyes  and  cheeks.  "Didn't  I  say  I  felt  ashamed 
of  myself  ?  What  can  be  worse  ?" 

And  indeed  for  the  hitherto  successful  commander  of 
their  forces  to  feel  ashamed  of  anything'  she  had  done  did 
seem  about  as  terrible  a  thing  as  could  have  happened. 
After  that,  what  might  not  be  expected  ? 

"There'll  have  to  be  some  sort  of  an  apology,"  Kitty 
went  on,  a  little  dolefully.  "And  I  suppose  I  must 
make  it.  I  haven't  any  idea  of  making  a  chum  of  her  all 
at  once,  but  what  I  have  decided  upon  is" — and  Kitty  cast 
a  meaning  glance  around  the  circle  — "that  she  shall  be 
given  a  chance." 

A  low  murmur,  half  dissent,  half  tamely  agreeing, 
greeted  this,  and  Kitty  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  folding 
her  arms  with  an  air  of  grave  reflection. 

Suddenly  Miss  Esther's  voice,  eager  and  anxious,  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

"Girls,"  she  was  saying,  "do  you  know  anything  of 
Amy  Rodman  ?" 

Two  or  three  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  Hattie  said,  with 
a  giggle,  "Speak  of  an  angel,  etc." 

But  Kitty  darted  forward,  exclaiming, 

"Oh,  Miss  Esther,  she  hasn't  been  with  us  since  this 
afternoon." 

"  Come  outside,"  whispered  the  teacher,  drawing  Kitty 
into  the  hall,  and  shutting  the  school-room  door  tightly. 
"I  am  afraid  she  went  down  to  the  beach,"  said  Miss 
Esther,  looking  rather  white  about  the  lips.  "  Mary,  the 
cook,  saw  her  hurrying  off  in  that  direction  about  half 
past  four.  Miss  Barrington  has  gone  to  bed  with  one  of 
her  dreadful  headaches,  and  I  dare  not  disturb  her.  Sup- 
pose—  What  is  that  ;" 

For  just  then  there  was  a  sound  of  heavy  feet  on  the 
porch,  followed  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 

Kitty  flung  it  open,  letting  in  the  wind  and  driving 
rain  regardlessly. 

Outside  old  Joyce,  the  fisherman,  was  standing. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  he  said,  in  his  slow  way, 
"but  doctor  says  you're  to  come  at  once.  We  got  little 


miss  out  o'  the  water,  but  she's  pretty  bad,  down  at  my 
place.'' 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!"  moaned  Kitty,  and  Miss  Esther  near- 
ly staggered  against  the  wall. 

"  Amy  Rodman  ?"  she  said,  faintly. 

"Yes'rn,"  said  Joyce.  "Seems  she  went  out  to  try 
and  get  that  little  Barnes  chap  in.  He'd  been  to  the  Reefs 
with  me,  and  he  was  fooling  with  my  boat,  and  got  adrift ; 
and  little  miss  she  seed  him,  and  went  after  him.  Some 
o'  my  men  seed  her  then.  That's  how  it  was." 

Miss  Esther  was  accustomed  to  think  and  act  quickly, 
and  her  good  sense  and  self-control  speedily  returned. 
She  consented  to  Kitty's  accompanying  her  to  Joyce's, 
and  they  started  off  in  the  Academy  rockaway,  after  giv- 
ing directions  for  a  room  with  a  fire  in  it,  and  a  well-aired 
bed  to  be  prepared  on  their  return. 

Kitty  Jenners  never  will  forget  that  drive  in  the  storm, 
nor  any  detail  of  their  going  into  the  little  cottage,  where 
lights  were  twinkling,  and  where,  in  Hetty's  room,  on  her 
small  bed,  Amy  Rodman,  white  as  death,  lay  seemingly 
asleep.  Life  had  very  nearly  ebbed  away  before  they  res- 
cued her,  clinging  desperately  to  Robbie's  golden  hair;  but 
youth  asserts  itself  sometimes  even  over  death,  and  God 
had  spared  her.  But  Miss  Esther  knew  before  the  doctor 
told  her  that  Amy  would  be  a  long  time  very  ill. 

Kitty  found  it  hard  to  tell  just  how  the  first  hours  of  the 
night  passed.  They  waited  for  the  storm  to  die  away  before 
they  tried  to  move  her,  and  Kitty  talked  with  Hetty,  who 
had  so  much  to  say  of  Amy's  kindness  and  goodness  that 
Kitty's  remorse  awoke  anew,  and  she  felt,  if  ever  the  chance 
were  given  her,  she  would  almost  ask  Amy  to  be  her  friend. 

It  was  nearly  morning ;  the  violence  of  the  storm  had  en- 
tirely ceased,  when  a  melancholy  little  party  came  back  to 
the  Academy.  As  was  to  be  expected,  no  one  had  slept  that 
night,  and  every  door  opened  as  Amy  was  carried  down 
the  upper  hall  to  the  room  made  ready  for  her.  Hattie 
Barnes  had  heard  of  her  brother's  danger,  and  how  Amy 
had  saved  him,  and  had  spent  the  night  in  foolish  hysterics, 
which  were  very  nearly  beginning  again,  when  Miss  Esther 
came  into  the  room  and  sternly  commanded  her  to  silence. 
This  reduced  Hattie's  anguished  cries  to  a  sort  of  whim- 
per, which  she  kept  up  while  Miss  Esther  told  them  about 
Amy's  courage  and  her  peril,  and  how  the  doctor  feared 
she  would  be  a  long  time  ill. 

In  spite  of  glorious  weather  the  next  day,  and  very 
easy  lessons,  it  was  hard  for  the  girls  to  feel  anything 
but  subdued  after  the  excitement  of  the  evening,  and  as 
days  went  on,  and  Amy  Rodman  hovered  between  life  and 
death,  the  school  party  grew  very  hushed  and  awe-strick- 
en. Kitty,  who  by  her  own  request  was  given  the  place  of 
nurse,  was  welcomed  once  or  twice  a  day  by  an  eager  set  of 
girls,  who  had  nearly  forgotten  their  dislike  in  their  com- 
passion for  the  sufferer. 

V. 

Amy  had  been  ill  a  fortnight,  when,  one  warm  and  dusty 
day,  an  elderly  woman  arrived  at  the  Academy,  and  was 
closeted  some  time  with  Miss  Barrington,  after  which  the 
news  spread  through  the  school  that  Amy's  curious  old 
guardian,  Mr.  Symes,  was  dead.  And  then,  the  night  be- 
fore school  broke  up,  while  the  girls  were  sitting  about 
waiting  for  Kitty's  usual  evening  bulletin.  Miss  Esther 
came  into  the  room,  and,  sitting  down  at  her  desk,  remark- 
ed that  she  had  a  little  story  to  tell  them. 

Every  face  wore  an  eager  air,  for  Miss  Esther  was  fa- 
mous for  her  stories. 

"  I  want  each  one  of  you,"  said  the  young  teacher,  "to 
accept  this  story  without  any  questions.  I  can  give  no 
names,  and  I  must  leave  all  personal  details  to  your  own 
imagination."  Then  she  began : 

"I  once  knew  a  girl  of  about  fifteen  who  came  to  a 
school  with  every  appearance  of  wealth  both  in  her  dress 
and  her  allowance;  and  she  had  money— a  large  sum 
given  her  every  month  by  her  guardian.  Now  this  girl 


JULY  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


579 


knew  nothing  of  schools  or  school-girls  and  their  ways, 
and  she  was  too  shy  to  make  friends  readily,  and  the  girls, 
not  finding  her  all  the  'fun'  they  had  expected,  hegan 
among  themselves  to  criticise  her  and  slight  her,  and 
above  all  to  try  and  detect  miserliness  in  her.  It  was 
true  that  she  rarely  spent  a  penny,  and  on  several  oc- 
casions declined  to  share  in  treats;  hut  while  she  '.rave 
nothing  toward  them,  she  never  availed  herself  of  their 
advantages.  All  the  same  her  conduct  increased  the  ill 
feeling  against  her.  Now  not  one  girl  in  the  school  had 
the  heart  and  thought  to  go  to  their  lonely  little  West- 
ern comrade  and  help  her  to  be  one  of  themselves,  and  to 
speak  of  the  burden  on  her  mind;  for  all  the  time  while 
she  was  called  mean  and  a  miser  in  the  school,  she  was 
aiuciounly  Having  for  a  noble  ]>ni-/i<>se. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  that  purpose  was. 

"  Years  and  years  before,  this  girl's  brother — he  is  dead 
now — had  defrauded  one  of  his  employers,  and  only  been 
saved  open  disgrace  for  li is  mother's  sake.  But  that  mother, 
when  her  buy  was  dead,  bad  begun  to  save  in  every  way 
to  pay  back  the  stolen  money,  and  when  her  only  daugh- 
ter was  adopted  by  a  rich  man,  who  gave  her  tins  liberal 
allowance,  the  girl  resolved,  almost  with  a  vow.  never  to 
spend  one  penny  unnecessarily  until  that  money  was 
every  cent  paid  back;  for  not  only  was  there  the  burden 
of  her  brother's  sin  on  her  mind,  but  she  knew  that  the 
children  of  the  man  he  had  wronged  were  in  actual  need. 
which. might  not  have  been  but  for  her  brother's  wnmu 
doing.  Denying  herself  all  girlish  luxuries,  she  saved  her 
money,  and.  as  it  accumulated,  sent  it  out  to  California 
In  I  lie  widow  of  her  brother's  old  employer. 

"  Now  I  ask  you,  girls,  how  many  among  you  would 
have  had  the  moral  courage  to  accept  a  false  position,  even 
for  such  a  purpose  >  Don't  we  all  know  how  delightful 
it  would  have  been  for  this  girl  to  have  been  the  pelted 
heiress  of  the  school,  with  pockets  full  of  money,  and  all 
sorts  of  devotion  and  attention  1  Instead  of  which  she 
had  to  accept  the  lowest  place,  where,  I  regret  to  say.  she 
w;'.s  not  only  placed  by  the  suspicions  of  her  companions, 
but  treated  in  a  way  unworthy  of  discussion." 

Miss  Ksther  paused.  She  did  not  tell  the  girls  that  she 
had  with  dilliculty  obtained  from  Amy  permission  to  speak 
in  some  such  fashion  of  her  motive  for  saving;  she  never 
mentioned  Amy's  name ;  but  every  girl  present  understood. 

After  a  short  silence,  Miss  Esther  said,  more  cheerfully: 

"  Girls,  Amy  Rodman  can  see  you  all  to-morrow.  She 
will  be  moved  into  Miss  Harrington's  sitting-room,  and  I 
hope  you  will  all  be  able  to  congratulate  her."  And 
without  another  word  Miss  Esther  nodded  to  the  girls  and 
went  away — back  to  her  post  in  Amy's  room. 

Whether  Kitty  ever  made  her  formal  apology  no  one 
knows;  but  this  I  do  know,  that  before  her  illness  was 
over,  Amy  was  on  excellent  terms  with  all  the  girls,  even 
to  a  certain  degree  with  Hattie  Barnes,  and  in  the  autumn 
she  went  fora  fortnight  to  Kitty's  home  in  the  mountains, 
where  the  friendship  that  has  ever  since  eudui-ed  was 
firmly  cemented. 

Her  return  to  the  Academy  was  celebrated  with  as 
much  delight  as  a  public  holiday.  Little  Robbie  Barnes 
was  sent  to  greet  her  with  a  bouquet  of  his  own  choosing, 
and  to  this  day — he  is  a  university  ''stroke  oar"  now — 
he  never  ceases  to  speak  of  Amy  with  gratitude  and  af- 
fection. But  this  being  a  perfectly  true  story,  I  must 
add  that  Amy's  first  care  after  her  guardian's  death  was 
to  pay  every  penny,  with  interest,  which  remained  due  in 
California.  I  saw  Kitty  Jenners  only  the  other  day,  with 
Miss  Esther,  who  is  principal  of  the  Academy  now,  and 
among  other  things  she  told  me  that  one  of  Amy's  dearest 
possessions  is  a  locket  the  girls  gave  her  years  ago,  011  her 
sixteenth  birthday,  and,  at  Miss  Esther's  suggestion,  they 
had  inscribed  across  the  back  the  motto,  ' '  In  Honor 
Bound.'' 

THE   END. 


ATTILA   THE  HUN. 

IN  the  troublous  old  times,  when  the  right  to  pos- 
sess belonged  to  the  strongest,  there  lived  a  brave,  bold 
warrior  called  Attila.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  Huns, 
who  were  a  formidable  race  of  men.  noted  for  their  cm 
elty.  Many  countries  were  at  this  time  becoming  civ- 
ilized, were  forsaking  their  idolatrous  religions  in  favor 
of  Christianity,  and  it  seemed,  indeed,  as  though  at  last 
the  world  was  going  to  be  happier,  wiser,  and  less  selfish. 

But  when  the  nations  had  grown  tii-ed  of  quarrelling 
and  fighting,  and  were  inclined  to  live  peaceably,  they 
were  interrupted  in  their  efforts  by  these  barbarous  Huns, 
who  came  pouring  down  over  Europe  from  Asia,  causing 
misery  and  desolation. 

The  half -civilized  natives  were  frightened  by  the  appear- 
;  ance  of  these  bold  savages.  So  cruel  were  they,  and  so 
great  was  their  number,  that  the  very  sight  of  them  was 
enough  to  cause  alarm  and  terror;  but  when  at  their 
head,  as  king  and  leader,  was  seen  the  cruel  Attila.  the 
tear  of  the  people  amounted  to  dismay. 

In  appearance  the  Huns  were  hideous  objects,  hav- 
ing very  large  heads.  Hal  noses,  broad  shoulders,  and 
thick,  bony,  ugly  arms.  Most  of  them  were  very  short, 
and  had  thin,  weak,  crooked  legs,  which  looked  quite 
unlit  to  support  their  large,  square  bodies;  indeed,  alto- 
gether they  were  more  like  demons  than  human  beings. 
For  some  reason  or  other  they  were  seldom  seen  walk- 
ing. They  were  nearly  always  mounted  on  horseback, 
and  when  seated  on  their  horses,  one  could  have  imagined 
that  horse  and  rider  were  but  one  an i ma  I. 

Attila  was  the  leader  of  these  savage  tribes.  It  was 
said  and  believed  that  where  his  horse's  hoot's  had  trod- 
den the  grass  could  grow  no  more;  and,  indeed,  after  in- 
vasion by  Attila  and  his  men,  nothing  but  wild,  dreary 
wastes  were  left. 

Through  ( iermany,  toward  France,  they  swept  on,  like 
a  great  army  of  locusts,  feeding  upon  grain,  fruit,  or  flesh, 
whatever  they  could  find,  their  numbers  being  scarcely  re- 
duced at  all,  and  to  Attila  was  given  the  name  of  the 
Scourge  of (iod. 

At  length  it  occurred  to  the  Emperors  of  the  West  that 
by  uniting  their  etl'orls  these  powerful  enemies  might  be 
overcome. 

Forgetting  all  the  little  quarrels  among  themselves, 
they  agreed  to  combine  their  forces,  and  challenge  Attila 
to  fight  with  them.  The  spot  chosen  for  the  attack  was 
in  France,  near  the  river  Marne,  and  here  all  the  troops 
arrayed  themselves,  with  their  brave  monarchs  at  their 
head.  Among  them  were  Theodoric  and  Merovig. 

'Attila,  confident  of  success,  stood  facing  them,  having 
for  his  warriors  not  only  his  own  men,  but  also  a  horde 
of  barbarians  whom  he  had  enlisted  for  the  occasion.  Be- 
fore the  battle  he  delivered  an  address,  telling  them  all 
that  if  the  victory  should  be  theirs  he  would  reward  the 
brave  handsomely. 

The  battle  began,  and  to  Attila's  astonishment  and 
j  rage  he  saw  his  own  troops  beaten  down.  Although  the, 
strength  was  on  his  side,  the  discipline  and  skill  of  the 
civilized  armies  won  the  day.  For  the  first  time  he  saw- 
thousands  of  his  followers  lying  dead,  and  rather  than 
lose  any  more,  as  soon  as  evening  approached  he  gave  up 
the  combat. 

During  the  dark  hours  of  the  night  each  side  wondered 
what  steps  the  other  intended  taking. 

To  the  amazement  of  the  victors  of  the  previous  day, 
when  morning  dawned  a  most  remarkable  scene  present- 
ed itself  to  their  view. 

On  the  top  of  a  huge  mound,  made  of  the  wooden  sad- 
dles of  the  horses  and  of  timber  of  all  kinds,  stood  Attila, 
with  a  blazing  torch  in  his  hand.  Around  him  was  a  fort 
made  of  wagons,  while  within  this  stood  a  number  of  the 
brave  Huns,  also  holding  lighted  torches.  The  idea  was 


580 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


that,  rather  than  submit,  or  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
the  enemy,  the  pile  should  be  lighted,  and  Attila  would 
perish  in  the  flames. 

The  victors  could  not  help  admiring  the  bravery  display- 
ed by  this  proud  barbarian,  and,  instead  of  making  any 
further  attack,  they  ordered  their  men  to  remain  pas- 
sive. Attila,  with  the  remainder  of  his  army,  retreated 
in  humiliation. 

He  never  regained  his  former  power,  and  before  very 
long  died  in  Italy.  His  body  was  laid  in  a  coffin  of  gold, 
outside  of  which  was  a  shell  of  silver;  and  in  order  that 
there  might  be  no  possibility  of  the  corpse  being  disturbed 
for  the  sake  of  the  valuable  coffin,  the  slaves  who  had  dug 
the  grave  were  all  put  to  death. 

As  soon  as  the  Huus  had  buried  their  leader  they  hast- 
ened back  to  the  East,  sorrowful  and  subdued,  for  they  had 
imagined  their  champion  to  be  unconquerable  a'nd  almost 
immortal.  Nevertheless,  they  revered  his  memory,  and 
made  a  vow  never  to  disclose  the  place  of  his  burial.  Even 
to  this  day  110  one  knows  where  his  body  rests. 


A  BRAVE  LAD. 

BY   ELIOT    McCOKMICK. 


CHARLES  BILLER,  a  lad  of  thirteen,  was  rowing 
down  the  Passaic  River,  near  Rutherford  Park,  one 
summer  day  in  1877,  when  he  saw  a  flat-bottomed  boat 
with  four  girls  in  it  struck  by  another  boat  containing 
three  boys.  The  collision  stove  in  the  side  of  the  scow, 
and  tipped  over  the  boat,  so  that  both  parties  were  thrown 
in  the  water.  Quick  as  thought  Biller  threw  off  his  coat 
— he  had  been  bathing,  and  his  shoes  were  already  off — 
and  jumped  in  after  the  girls.  His  companions  were 
younger  than  he,  and  too  terrified  to  do  anything  but  sit 
in  the  boat  and  stare. 

Two  of  the  girls  were  about  his  own  age,  and  the  oth- 
ers a  year  younger.     Biller  himself  was  used  to  swim- 


ming, and,  grasping  two  of  the  girls,  he  struck  out  for  the 
shore  which  was  150  feet  away.  Reaching  it  in  safety, 
he  left  his  freight,  and  went  for  the  others,  who  were  still 
struggling  in  the  water.  Some  boatmen  had  meanwhile 
gone  to  the  rescue  of  the  boys  who  had  caused  the  acci- 
dent, and  one  of  these  caught  one  of  the  remaining  girls, 
while  Biller  saved  the  fourth.  For  this  brave  exploit,  the 
boy  was  rewarded  with  a  gold  medal  from  the  Humane 
Society  of  New  York.  When,  some  time  afterward,  he 
came  to  go  into  business,  his  courage  and  manliness  were 
not  the  least  of  his  recommendations. 

The  boy  or  man  who  does  one  brave  deed  very  often 
has  the  opportunity  to  do  another,  and  although  in  the 
case  of  Charles  Biller  the  opportunity  was  delayed  six 
years,  he  was  quick  to  improve  it  when  it  came.  One 
bright  day  this  summer  he  started  from  his  home  in  New- 
ark, New  Jersey,  for  a  day's  excursion  to  Coney  Island, 
and  was  walking  from  Brighton  to  the  Iron  Pier,  a  dis- 
tance of  about  a  mile. 

As  he  trudged  along,  Biller  saw  ahead  of  him  a  carriage 
standing  on  the  sand,  and  near  by  a  girl,  who,  as  he  gazed, 
suddenly  ran  down  to  the  water  and  plunged  in.  She 
was  not  in  bathing  costume,  and  the  unusual  sight  excited 
the  lad's  wonder  and  curiosity.  At  the  same  moment  he 
saw  a  gentleman  get  hurriedly  out  of  the  carriage,  using  a 
crutch  to  help  him  in  the  descent,  and  then  hobble  down 
to  the  shore,  where  he  stood  waist  deep  in  the  surf,  wildly 
waving  his  hands. 

By  this  time,  persuaded  that  something  must  be  wrong. 
Biller  had  run  to  the  spot,  and  now  he  saw,  far  out  in  the 
surf,  a  little  head,  toward  which  the  girl  was  bravely  swim- 
ming. I  dare  say  his  thoughts  went  hurriedly  back  to 
the  Passaic  River,  and  the  day,  six  years  before,  when  al- 
most the  same  scene  went  on  before  his  eyes.  But  he  did 
not  stop  to  think.  Kicking  off  his  shoes  and  throwing 
aside  his  coat,  he  ran  into  the  surf,  dashed  by  the  man, 
and  swam  for  the  girls,  the  elder  of  whom  had  already 
caught  and  was  buoying  vip  the  little  one. 

"Keep  her  head  above  water,"  Biller  called  loudly  as 
he  drew  near  the  girl,  who  was  as  brave  and  plucky 
as  he. 

She  managed  to  do  as  she  was  bid,  and  then  Biller  di- 
rected her  to  take  hold  of  his  shoulders,  at  the  same  time 
leaving  his  arms  free  to  carry  them  both  inshore.  The 
man  meanwhile  had  dropped  his  crutch  in  his  excite- 
ment, and  when  Biller,  having  landed  the  two  girls,  look- 
ed around,  he  saw  the  cripple  swept  away  by  the  treacher- 
ous surf. 

It  was  only  the  work  of  a  moment  to  plunge  in  again; 
but  the  man  was  now  as  far  out  as  the  little  girl  had  been 
when  Biller  first  saw  her,  and  every  moment  was  carry- 
ing him  further  away.  With  a  few  rapid  strokes  Biller 
neared  him,  but,  afraid  of  coming  too  near,  tried  to  grasp 
him  by  the  hair.  This,  however,  was  too  short,  and  when 
Biller  took  hold  of  the  drowning  man's  neck,  the  other 
turned  and  fastened  on  the  swimmer  his  deadly  clutch. 
The  lad  swam  as  well  as  he  could  in  the  man's  terrible 
grasp,  but  lost  consciousness  just  as  they  reached  the 
shore. 

In  the  course  of  the  same  afternoon  Biller's  employer 
in  Newark  was  shocked  by  receiving  a  telegram  announ- 
cing that  the  young  man  had  been  drowned  at  Coney  Isl- 
and while  courageously  endeavoring  to  save  a  Mr.  Bene- 
dict and  liis  little  girl,  who  were  perishing  in  the  surf.  The 
father  was  sent  for,  and  the  sad  news  communicated  to 
him.  But  before  he  left  the  office  to  convey  it  to  his  wife 
a  second  message  came,  reading  as  follows : 

"Don't  lie  :il:mnrtl.  Wns  senseless  for  a  time,  but  am  all  right  again, 
;ind  on  my  way  homo,  Had  the  good  luck  to  save  Benedict  and  two 
daughters ;  was  rewarded  with  a  diamond  ring,  gold  watch,  and  other 
Presents.  C.  H.  BILLER." 

Biller's  unconsciousness  had  lasted  for  half  an  hour. 


.II'LV   17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


581 


When  he  came  to  himself  he  found  the  gentleman  and 
his  daughters  anxiously  awaiting  his  revival,  and  insist- 
ing that  he  should  accompany  them  to  their  cottage,  where 
he  was  fitted  out  with  a  dry  suit  of  clothes,  and  over- 
whelmed with  thanks  from  Mrs.  Benedict  for  the  preser- 
vation of  her  husband's  and  children's  lives. 

The  father  pressed  upon  the  lad  a  sum  of  money,  and 
when  this  was  declined,  compelled  Miller  to  accept  the  gold 
watch  and  chain  which  he  had  carried  in  his  own  pocket, 
and  a  valuable  diamond  ring,  as  an  expression  of  his  grati- 
tude and  regard.  These  the  young  man  shows  to  any  one 
who  may  be  interested  in  the  affair,  though  he  does  not 
fancy  the  publicity  it  has  brought  him.  "  I  have  had  so 
much  said  about  me  lately  in  the  papers,  and  it  was  mere 
ly  an  accident,"  he  remarks  in  a  letter  I  have  just  received 
from  him,  and  which  I  am  sure  he  will  pardon  me  for 
quoting,  for  the  glimpse  that  it  gives  of  his  character. 

Some  one,  trying  to  be  witty,  has  said  that  absence  of 
body  is  bettor  tha'i  presence  of  mind,  but  this  is  the  way 
the  coward  looks  at  it.  One  who  is  brave  will  try  to  be 
prepared  when  the  danger  comes,  and  will  not  shrink 
from  meeting  it.  A  little  boy  in  the  school  panic  the  other 
day  helped  his  teacher  by  drnLiLVi  IILT  other  boys,  who  were 
trying  to  escape  from  the  window,  back  by  their  legs. 

A  young  lady — I  mention  this  incident  for  the  sake  of 
the  girls — was  riding  horseback  near  her  country  home 
last  week,  when  tin-  animal  took  fright  and  ran  away. 
The  girl  clung  to  his  back,  knowing  that  to  be  her  only 
chance,  though  he  (lashed  with  terrilie  speed  down  a 
long  hill,  at  the  foot  of  which  she  knew  there  was  a  river 
and  a  bridge.  The  road. 

i -rover,    makes    a    sharp 

turn  jnsl  be  Tore  it  reaches 
the  bridge  ;  and  when  it 
came  to  this  point  she  saw 
to  her  horror  that  the  horse 
was  headed  for  a  narrow 
space,  not  more  than  three 
feet  wide,  between  the  side 
of  the  bridge  and  a  tree. 

If  he  struck  either  the 
tree  on  the  one  hand  or  the 
bridge  on  the  other  she 
would  be  dragged  ott'  and 
killed,  while  if  he  leaped 
that  seemed  to  invite  a 
more  terrible  death  on  the 
rocks  twenty  feet  below. 
Still  she  clung  to  his  back 
while  the  horse  leaped.  He 
landed,  not  on  the  rocks, 
but  in  a  pool  just  beyond, 
and  was  so  hurt  by  the  fall 
t  hat  he  had  to  be  shot.  The 
girl  escaped  without  harm, 
except  for  the  shock  to  her 
nervous  system.  Had  she 
not  kept  her  self-possession 
and  retained  her  seat  on  the 
horse's  back,  and  guided  him 
as  well  as  she  was  able,  she 
must  certainly  have  been 
killed. 

Had  Charles  Biller  waited 
to  see  if  some  one  else  would 
not  jump  MI  the  water  his 
opportunity  for  heroism 
would  have  been  lost.  It  is 
the  boys  and  girls  who  are 
ready  when  the  opportunity 
comes  that  do  the  gallant 
deeds  and  win  the  prizes  in 
the  struggle  of  life. 


A  PILLOW  FIGHT. 

BY  JIMMY  BROWN. 

TTTE'YE  been  staying  at  the  sea-shore  for  a  week,  and 
TT  having  a  beautiful  time.  I  love  the  sea-shore,  only 
it  would  be  a  great  deal  nicer  if  there  wasn't  any  sea;  then 
yc  MI  wouldn't  have  to  go  in  bathing.  I  don't  like  to  go  in 
bathing1,  for  you  get  so  awfully  wet.  and  the  water  chokes 
you.  Then  there  are  ticks  on  the  sea-shore  in  the  grass. 
A  tick  is  an  insect  that  beg'ins  and  bites  you,  and  never 
stops  till  you're  all  ettup,  and  then  you  die,  and  the  tick 
keeps  on  growing  bigger  all  the  time. 

There  was  once  a  hoy  and  a  tick  got  on  him  and  bit 
him,  and  kept  on  biting  for  three  or  four  days,  and  it  ettup 
the  boy  till  the  tick  was  almost  as  big  as  the  boy  had  been, 
and  the  boy  wasn't  any  bigger  than  a  marble,  and  he  died, 
and  his  folks  felt  dreadl'nlly  about  it.  I  never  saw  a  tick, 
but  I  know  that  there  are  lots  of  them  on  the  sea-shore, 
and  that's  reason  enough  not  to  like  it. 

\V'-  siaid  at    a  boarding-house  while  we  were  at  the 
sea-shore.     A  boarding-house  is  a  place  where  they  give 
you   pure  country  air  and  a  few  vegetables  and  a  little 
meat,  and  I  say  give 
me  a  jail  where  they 
feed  you  if  they  do 

keep  you   sllllt  11])   in 


"I    NEVER   WAS    SO    FKIGHTENED    IN    MY    LIFE." 


582 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  dark.  There  were  a  good  many  people  in  our  board- 
ing-house, and  I  slept  upstairs  on  the  third  story  with  three 
other  boys,  and  there  were  two  more  boys  on  the  second 
story,  and  that's  the  way  all  the  trouble  happened. 

There  is  nothing  that  is  better  fun  than  a  pillow  light; 
that  is,  when  you're  home  and  have  got  your  own  pillows. 
and  know  they're  not  loaded,  as  Mr.  Travers  says.  He 
was  real  good  about  it,  too,  and  I  sha'ii't  forget  it,  for  'most 
any  man  would  have  been  awfully  mad,  but  he  just  made 
as  if  he  didn't  care,  only  Sue  went  on  about  it  as  if  I  was 
the  worst  boy  that  ever  lived. 

You  see,  we  four  boys  on  the  third  story  thought  it 
would  be  fun  to  have  a  pillow  fight  with  the  two  boys 
on  the  second  story.  We  waited  till  everybody  had  gone 
to  bed,  and  then  we  took  our  pillows  and  went  out  into 
the  hall  just  as  quiet  as  could  be,  only  Charley  Thomp- 
son he  fell  over  a  trunk  in  the  hall  and  made  a  tremendous 
noise.  One  of  the  boarders  opened  his  door  and  said  who's 
there,  but  we  didn't  answer,  and  presently  he  said  "I  sup- 
pose it's  that  cat  people  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves 
to  keep  such  animals,"  and  shut  his  door  again. 

After  a  little  while  Charley  was  able  to  walk,  though 
his  legs  were  dreadfully  rough  where  he'd  scraped  them 
against  the  trunk.  So  we  crept  down-stairs  and  went  into 
the  boys'  room,  and  began  to  pound  them  with  the  pillows. 

They  knew  what  was  the  matter,  and  jumped  right  up 
and  got  their  pillows,  and  went  at  us  so  fierce  that  they 
drove  us  out  into  the  hall.  Of  course  this  made  a  good 
deal  of  noise,  for  we  knocked  over  the  wash-stand  in  the 
room,  and  upset  a  lot  of  lamps  that  were  on  the  table  in 
the  hall,  and  every  time  I  hit  one  of  the  boys  he  would 
say  "  Ouch!"  so  loud  that  anybody  that  was  awake  could 
hear  him.  We  fought  all  over  the  hall,  and  as  we  began 
to  get  excited  we  made  so  much  noise  that  Mr.  Travers 
got  up  and  came  out  to  make  us  keep  quiet. 

It  was  pretty  dark  in  the  hall,  and  though  I  knew  Mr. 
Travers,  I  thought  he  couldn't  tell  me  from  the  other  boys, 
and  I  thought  I  would  just  give  him  one  good  whack  on 
the  head,  and  then  we'd  all  run  upstairs.  He  wouldn't 
know  who  hit  him,  and,  besides,  who  ever  heard  of  a  fellow 
being  hurt  with  a  pillow  ? 

So  I  stood  close  up  by  the  wall  till  he  came  near  me, 
and  then  I  gave  him  a  splendid  bang  over  the  head.  It 
sounded  as  if  you  had  hit  a  fellow  with  a  club,  and  Mr. 
Travers  dropped  to  the  floor  with  an  awful  crash,  and  never 
spoke  a  word. 

I  never  was  so  frightened  in  my  life,  for  I  thought 
Mr.  Travers  was  killed.  I  called  murder  help  fire,  and 
everybody  ran  out  of  their  rooms,  and  fell  over  trunks. 
and  there  was  the  most  awful  time  you  ever  dreamed  of. 
At  last  somebody  g-ot  a  lamp,  and  somebody  else  got  some 
water  and  picked  Mr.  Travers  up  and  carried  him  into  his 
room,  and  then  he  came  to,  and  said  "Where  am  I  Susan 
what  is  the  matter  O  now  I  know." 

He  was  all  right,  only  he  had  a  big  bump  on  one  side  of 
his  head,  and  he  said  that  it  was  all  an  accident,  and  that 
he  wouldn't  have  Sue  scold  me,  and  that  it  served  him 
right  for  not  remembering  that  boarding  -  house  pillows 
are  apt  to  be  loaded. 

The  next  morning  he  made  me  bring  him  my  pillow, 
and  then  he  found  out  how  it  came  to  hurt  him.  All  the 
chicken  bones,  and  the  gravel-stones,  and  the  chunks  of 
wood  that  were  in  the  pillow  had  got  down  into  one  end 
of  it  while  we  were  having  the  fight,  and  when  I  hit  Mr. 
Travers  they  happened  to  strike  him  on  his  head  where  it 
was  thin,  and  knocked  him  senseless.  Nobody  can  tell 
how  glad  I  am  that  he  wasn't  killed,  and  it's  a  warning  to 
me  never  to  have  pillow  fights  except  with  pillows  that  I 
know  are  not  loaded  with  chicken  bones  and  things. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  after  that  night  my  mother  and  all 
the  boys'  mothers  took  all  the  pillows  away  from  us,  for 
they  said  they  were  too  dangerous  to  be  left  where  boys 
could  get  at  them. 


"MOTHER'S  DEAR  COMFORT." 

BY  MARY  D.  BRINE. 

THE  kitchen  is  clean  and  cozy. 
And  bright  with  the  sunshine  gay. 
And  "Mother's  dear  Comfort"  for  mother's  sake 

Is  busily  working  away 
Paring  potatoes,  ami  thinking 

"It's  humdrum  work  to  do;" 
But  little  Miss  Comfort  is  willing  and  quick. 
And  the  sunbeams  are  helping  her  through. 

For  mother  is  sick  and  is  sleeping. 

And  baby  is  quiet  at  last ; 
And  father  '11  be  wanting  his  dinner  soon, 

The  minutes  are  flying  so  fast. 
Oh,  she  knows  lie  will  kiss  her.  and  love  her, 

And  call  her  his  "Busy  Bee"; 
But  mother's  pet  name  is  the  truest  of  all. 

For  "Mother's  dear  Comfort"  is  she. 


THE  KING  OP  THE  MONKEYS. 

BY  EDWARD  I.  STEVENSON. 
I. 

OVER  the  narrow  plain  of  Gelloor,  which  extends; 
through  a  portion  of  the  Punjab,  the  thick-sown  rice 
and  maize  fields  waved.  The  morning  breeze  was  fresh, 
and  stirred  lightly  the  waters  of  the  winding  little  Gelloor 
River.  Curious  bright-colored  birds  squawked  and  waded 
through  the  shallows.  In  the  far  distance  sharp  blue 
peaks  could  be  seen. 

An  ugly  yellow  snake  lay  flat  on  a  clump  of  river- 
grass.  It  had  its  eye  upon  a  giddy  young  paroquet  that 
was  taking  a  dip  but  a  few  yards  beyond  its  reach.  The 
slimy  body  of  the  snake  glided  between  the  grass  roots; 
nearer  and  nearer  its  hideous  head  drew  to  the  luckless 
paroquet.  But  lo!  just  as  his  snakeship  drew  himself 
together  for  the  fatal  dart,  down  came  a  thick  stick,  the 
blow  from  which  broke  the  reptile's  backbone  and  sent  him 
to  writhe  in  the  water.  The  little  parrot  flew  off  in  terror. 
A  slender  dark-skinned  lad  of  perhaps  ten  years  sprang 
up  from  his  hiding-place  with  a  triumphant  cry,  "  Wicked 
serpent,  you  will  kill  no  more  birds !"  And  little  Rham 
Puggee  hit  the  thick  yellow  body  another  hard  blow  with 
his  stick,  which  completely  finished  the  snake's  business 
forever. 

Poor  little  Rham  !  It  was  not  often  now  that  he  had  as 
much  variety  in  his  hard  life  as  killing  a  snake.  In  fact, 
he  had  nearly  rid  his  master's  land  of  them. 

Rham's  master  was  a  rayat,  hard  -  working,  and  very 
bad-tempered.  He  had  bought  little  Rham,  like  a  slave, 
from  a  band  of  strolling  vagabonds.  He  fancied  he  could 
make  the  boy  useful  in  tending  the  crops  for  him. 

It  was  a  hard  life,  but  Rham  endured  it  as  well  as 
he  could,  working  all  day  in  the  hot  sun,  and  dropping 
down  at  .night-fall,  like  a  dog,  upon  his  coarse  mat,  to 
sleep  until  sunrise.  He  could  remember  nothing  of 
himself  before  the  days  of  his  gypsy  friends,  not  even 
whether  he  had  really  belonged  to  any  of  them. 

Sometimes  when  the  lad  was  sent  by  Jheer  Narry,  his 
master,  to  the  village,  a  mile  or  two  away,  on  an  errand, 
and  happened  to  see  a  group  of  brown-skinned  boys  of  his 
own  age  playing  around  the  great  tank  together,  or  sitting 
at  the  feet  of  a  priest  learning  wisdom,  Rham  sighed. 
"  I  do  not  care  about  the  playing,"  he  thought ;  "  I  should 
not  know  how.  But  I  would  like  to  learn  to  read  and 
write,  and  have  a  chance  to  become  somebody  better  than 
the  slave  of  a  rayat  like  Jheer  Narry." 

One  day  he  ventured  to  say  something  of  his  ambitions 
to  the  rayat.  Jheer  Narry  struck  him  two  or  three  hard 
strokes  with  a  rattan,  and  laughed  aloud  as  he  scoffingly 
ansurml,  "Wretched  little  pig.  without  a  friend  in  the 
world  but  me,  what  business  has  such  as  you  to  think 
of  aught  except  my  maize  fields  ;  Away  with  you  !" 

Rham  worked  on  carefully  for  an  hour,  cutting  off  with 
a  sharp  knife  the  ears  of  maize  which  were  touched  by  a 


JULY  17,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


583 


disease  that  threatened  tin-  whole  crop.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  lie  found  that  he  would  have  to  hunt  out  Jheer  Nar- 
ry  to  ask  him  a  question  or  two.  He  walked  down  the 
long  rows  of  maize.  The  Held  was  not  small.  As  he 
drew  near  to  the  corner  of  it  he  suddenly  heard  Jheer 
Narry 's  harsh  tones. 

"Ah,  let  me  catch  them  at  it — let  me  catch  them  at  it'.'' 
the  rayat  was  shouting  hoarsely. 

Jheer  Narry  stood,  waving  his  arms  excitedly,  on  the 
farthest  edge  of  the  plot.  Rham  could  see  that  for  many 
yards  around  the  maize  stalks  had  been  uprooted,  trampled 
down,  and  crushed  to  splinters.  Hundreds  of  ears  seemed 
to  have  been  plucked  off  and  then  carried  away,  leaving 
only  a  few  dozen  that  still  strewed  the  earth  among1  tangles 
of  leaves  and  roots. 

"The  monkeys — the  odious,  wicked  robbers!"  stormed 
Jheer  Narry.  "  They  it  is  who  have  been  here  since  yes- 
terday. They  must  have  trooped  down  from  the  great 
banyan  grove  last  night  on  purpose  to  destroy  my  field  of 
maize." 

.Iheer  Narry  continued  walking  about  in  fresh  rage  as 
he  observed  the  amount  of  mischief  the  long-tailed  robbers 
had  brought  about  in  perhaps  not  more  than  an  hour. 

"May  the  wicked  thieves  perish! "  he  cried  again  and 
again.  "They  came  to  visit  me  in  just  this  way  years 
ago.  How  they  love  to  tear  up  and  steal  the  corn  before 
it  is  hard !" 

"  See  you  to  it  that  it  does  not  chance  again,"  said  Bhat 
(ice.  the  friend  of  the  enraged  rayat.  "They  will  come 
in  greater  numbers  the  next  time— perhaps  that  will  be 
to-night.  You  should  have  your  maize  Held  watched, 
Jheer  Narry." 

"And  indeed  I  shall  have  it  so, "replied  Jheer  Narry. 
"  This  little  good-for-nothing  pest  who  stands  st  a  ring  shall 
lie  on  a  mat  here  with  a  cudgel  to  drive  the  thieves  off.  I 
shall  be  ruined  by  them.  They  have  learned  the  way; 
they  are  sure  to  return." 

Rham  was  startled  at  the  idea  of  tilling  the  post  of 
watchman  after  this  fashion. 

"  But.  mast  IT.  suppose  they  enter  the  field  at  some  nib 
er  spot  •>    How  shall  I  hear  them  '.    And,  besides  that,  there 
are  wild  beasts  prowling — 

''Be  still,  torment  that  you  are!"  interrupted  Jheer 
Narry.  "I  neither  know  nor  care  how  you  will  be  able 
to  keep  these  thieves  out;  but  woe  to  your  skin  if  you 
let  them  root  up  and  pull  off  in  one  corner  while  you  are 
pretending  to  do  your  duty  in  another!" 

II. 

The  yellow  moon  was  up.  The  night  wind,  cold  as  it 
ever  is  in  the  Punjab,  tossed  about  the  river-grasses  and 
the  rustling  maize  fields.  Wrapped  up  in  a  castaway  cot- 
ton robe  of  Jheer  Narry,  Rham  squatted  flat  upon  an  old 
mat  a  good  distance  within  the  shadow  of  the  uninjured 
maize,  and  where  he  could  have  a  good  view  of  the  late 
scene  of  the  monkeys'  mischief-making.  Poor  lad!  He 
was  very  tired. 

"I  shall  have  to  lie  here  quietly,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"and  hope  that  if  the  monkeys  do  come  back  to-night 
they  will  choose  this  same  spot  for  stealing.  If  they 
get  into  the  maize  elsewhere,  why,  I  must  bear  my  beat- 
ing as  best  I  can.  If  I  could  only  tell  the  monkeys  what 
I  must  suffer  for  their  wicked  tricks,  I  wonder  if  they 
would  pull  up  the  maize  ?  The  priests  say  that  they  are 
like  gods,  and  understand  many  tilings.  Oh!'1  exclaim- 
ed the  boy,  struck  by  a  suddeii  trouble,  "my  master  did 
not  tell  me,  but  suppose  these  should  be  sacred  monkeys 
from  the  temple!  Jheer  Narry  said  something  about  a 
banyan  grove.  If  they  are  such,  I  shall  do  wrong  to  try 
to  keep  them  away.  Did  not  I  hear  Bhat  Gee  once  say 
that  a  mail  will  die  who  does  not  let  them  always  do  what 
they  please  ?  Ah,  what  shall  I  do  ?"  continued  poor  little 
Rham.  "  I  dare  not  even  frighten  them  lest  the  gods  who 


love  them  injure  me  or  ruin  all  the  maize  with  a  charm. 
My  master  is  a  wicked  man." 

Rham  thought  so  hard  and  long  that  presently  his  ideas 
became  strangely  blurred.  He  nodded,  and  drooped  over, 
and  presently  lay  Mat  on  the  mat,  with  his  cotton  cloth 
pulled  over  him,  fast  asleep. 

Most  marvellous  to  tell,  not  ten  minutes  after  the  ex- 
hausted lad's  breathing  had  become  regular,  a  something 
black  skipped  nimbly  up  from  the  other  side  of  the  rude 
fence,  and  stood  there  listening.  Another  black  agile  form 
followed.  Rham  was  motionless,  but  the  presence  of 
some  unseen  enemy  was  suspected,  and  the  plunderers 
were  wonclrously  careful  to  make  little  noise.  Gradually 
there  began  a  rustling,  leaping,  and  skipping,  and  then  a 
subdued  chattering.  Over  the  low  fence  a  dozen,  two  dozen, 
three  dozen  of  the  long-tailed  scamps  flung  themselves. 
How  could  Rham  sleep,  clear  back  there  in  the  gloom, 
weary  as  he  was  '.  (  Hhers  approached  boldly.  Scores  of 
the  plunderers  descended,  and  keeping  well  out  of  the  way 
of  Rham,  glided  down  the  field  to  a  new  point  of  attack. 
Innumerable  heads  and  tails  poured  over  that  roughly 
twisted  and  tied  fence,  and  darted  like  cats  past  the  spot 
where  some  of  the  oldest  and  wickedest  uncles  ill  the  horde 
had  discovered  Rham's  small  person,  and  given  proper 
warning.  Not  until  the  wary  visitors  were  fifty  yards 
below  Rham's  seat  the  mischief  began.  Down  came  the 
maize  stalks,  off  went  the  toothsome  ears.  The  little 
monkeys  laid  hold  of  their  fathers'  tails,  and  pulled  with 
them. 

Altogether  the  business  of  the  expedition  was  getting 
well  under  way,  and  110  small  mischief  had  been  already 
once  more  done  to  Jheer  Narry 's  crop,  when,  presto!  a  fly- 
ing little  human  figure  came  running  toward  them,  beat- 
ing about  with  a  stick,  and  shouting: 

"I  will  not  look  at  you  to  see  if  you  are  sacred  monk- 
eys. I  do  not  wish  to  know,  I  tell  you.  My  master 
semis  me.  I  beg  you  to  forgive  me." 

Whish!  dash!  away  Hew  the  terrified  army,  caught  in 
the  act.  Rham  could  not  help  discovering,  as  he  rushed 
toward  them  in  the  moonlight,  that  they  were  the  sacred 
nionke\  s.  as  he  had  feared.  Hence  came  his  last  requests 
for  pardon.  He  had  no  need  to  strike  one  blow,  though 
he  would  not  have  done  so.  The  corn  was  dropped;  the 
babies  were  seized  by  paws  and  tails,  and  pulled  along;  a 
tremendous  screeching  and  chattering  arose  and  passed 
away  with  the  fleeing  host.  At  length  nothing  but  a 
faint  murmur  borne  upon  the  night  air  from  the  road 
leading  to  the  banyan  groves  could  Rham  hear.  The 
field  of 'maize  was  still  as  if  undisturbed.  Rham  trem- 
bled with  excitement. 

But  there  lay  the  trampled  and  spoiled  stalks  and  ears. 
Enough  to  cost  Rham  the  promised  beating  to-morrow. 
Just  then  something  very  warm  and  soft  touched  the 
boy's  barefoot.  Rham  started  and  looked  down.  It  was 
a  very  young,  a  very  tiny  monkey,  perhaps  only  a  few 
days  old.  It  was  too  young,  indeed,  to  be  afraid  of  a  hu- 
man being.  It  plainly  was  shivering  with  the  cold  where 
its  mother  had  lost  hold  of  it.  Rham  bent  down,  exam- 
ined the  small  creature,  and  finally  took  it  up  in  his  arms. 
An  idea  struck  him.  The  bewildered  little  monkey  made 
no  effort  to  escape  from  the  warm  breast  that  shelter- 
ed it. 

"I  shall  be  beaten,"  said  Rham  to  himself,  "for  to- 
night— yes;  but  I  will  try  not  to  have  the  corn  robbed 
again,  and  so  be  beaten  worse  another  time.  I  dare  not 
hurt  the  sacred  monkeys.  So  I  will  go  now  to  the  ban- 
yan grove  and  ask  a  priest  from  the  temple  that  is  sure  to 
be  there  to  speak  for  me  to  the  King  of  the  Monkeys.  The 
priests  understand  their  tongue,  I  think.  And  I  will  ask 
the  priest  to  tell  the  King  of  the  Monkeys  that  Rham 
Puggee,  the  servant  of  Jheer  Narry,  brings  back  one  of 
his  black  people,  and  that  he  has  not  hurt  it ;  and  that  this 
same  Rham  Puggee  begs,  because  of  his  bringing  the 


584 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    MONKEYS    DESTROYING    JHEER    CARRY'S    MAIZE    FIELD 


monkey  back,  and  out  of  kindness  to  him,  and  to  save  him 
from  being  often  beaten  very  cruelly,  that  the  King  of  the 
Monkeys  will  command  his  people  not  to  come  again  to 
do  harm  to  the  fields  of  Jheer  Narry. 

III. 

Not  long  after  sunrise  the  next  day  the  gate  in  the 
wall  before  an  old  temple  in  a  large  banyan  grove,  about 
a  mile  from  Jheer  Narry's  plantation,  opened.  Out 
came,  not  a  priest,  but  a  young  English  officer,  dressed  in 
an  Indian  hunting  costume.  He  had  started  for  a  morn- 
ing stroll  with  his  gun. 

Captain  Cecil  was  a  good  deal  startled  by  nearly  falling 
over  a  sleeping  Hindoo  boy.  Much  to  bis  surprise,  the 
boy  seemed  to  hold,  nestling  with  great  good-will  against 
his  bosom,  a  remarkably  tiny  monkey.  The  monkey  also 
slept. 

Poor  Rham  had  reached  what  he  supposed  was  his 
journey's  end  only  to  Hnd  the  gate  leading  to  temple  and 
grove  locked.  He  had  not  counted  upon  that.  He  there- 
fore sat  down  before  it,  in  the  cold  moonlight,  to  rest  be- 
fore setting  out  on  his  return  to  Jheer  Narry's  fields.  The 
lad  was  sadly  discouraged. 


"Halloa,  here!"  cried 
Captain  Cecil,  starting  back 
in  surprise.  ''Who  in  the 
world  are  you  ?  and  what 
are  you  doing  here  so  early 
this  morning  ?  Are  you  in 
trouble,  youngster  ?"  The 
questions  were  repeated  in 
Rham's  own  musical  lan- 
guage. Rham  contrived  to 
make  answer,  and  finally 
Cuptain  Cecil  drew  out  the 
whole  history  of  his  life 
with  Jheer  Narry,  aud  of 
his  night's  adventure,  end- 
ing with  his  intention  to 
implore  the  good -will  of 
the  King  of  the  Monkeys. 
Captain  Cecil  laughed  as  he 
listened;  but  the  story  was 
a  sad  one  of  ill-treatment 
and  heathen  folly  after 
all,  and  the  young  man's 
face  was  sober  ere  Rham 
was  done. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said, 
"I  think  I  can  help  you, 
my  poor  boy.  I  can  not 
take  you  to  the  King  of 
the  Monkeys;  I  do  not  be- 
lieve any  one  about  here 
can.  This  old  temple  has 
been  a  government  depot 
these  many  years,  and  all 
the  priests  of  your  queer  re- 
ligion that  lived  here  have 
moved  to  some  other  big 
temple  not  far  away.  But 
I  will  ask  my  friends  here, 
who  are  all  Englishmen,  to 
help  me  buy  you  from  this 
cruel  master  of  yours.  If 
you  will,  you  shall  stay 
lii-re  and  make  yourself  use- 
ful; and  if  you  prove  wor- 
thy of  good  treatment,  why, 
you  shall  be  helped  all  the 
more." 

Rham's  story,  as  Captain 
Cecil  repeated  it  at  break- 
fast in  the  mess-room,  found  sympathy.  If  any  distrusted 
the  boy's  tale,  his  simple  air  and  the  pathos  of  his  dark  eyes 
won  them  over.  Captain  Cecil  rode  down  to  Jheer  Narry's 
fields,  and  came  back,  having  bought  Rham  Puggee — that 
is,  as  much  as  any  Englishman  can  buy  a  human  creature. 
Rham  never  set  eyes  upon  Jheer  Narry  more.  The  regi- 
ment was  ordered  away  to  Madras  a  few  days  after,  and 
before  many  weeks  were  over  Rham  set  out  for  England 
with  his  master,  Captain  Cecil.  The  captain  did  not  in- 
tend to  remain  long  at  home,  but  he  found  that  he  must; 
and  Rham  staid,  and  was  presently  sent  to  an  English 
school.  Bright  and  eager  to  learn,  he  advanced  until  his 
master  saw  that  Rham  could  never  be  kept  a  mere  servant, 
nor  did  he  wish  to  so  keep  him. 

Years  passed,  and  by  every  means  he  could  grasp  ( '.i|> 
tain  Cecil  helped  Rham  on  his  upward  career  until  Rham 
could  help  himself.  He  became  an  educated,  Christian- 
ized, successful  young  merchant  in  the  India  trade  before 
Captain  Cecil's  head  grew  gray.  Who  would  have  sup- 
posed that  all  this  was  the  result  of  the  attacks  of  the 
monkeys  on  Jheer  Narry's  maize  field,  and  of  Rham's  ef- 
fort to  save  himself  from  a  beating  by  having  an  interview 
with  the  King  of  the  Monkeys  ? 


JULY  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


585 


"THE    VPS    AND    DOWNS    OF    LIFE." 


THE  CAPTURED  FLAGS: 

A  STORY  OF  THE  CANARY  ISLANDS. 

BY  DAVID  KER. 

THERE  are  few  prettier  places  in  the  world  than  the 
Canary  Islands.      All  over  the  bold  ridges  that  surge 


up  one  beyond  the  other  in  endless  succession  dainty  lit- 
tle white  villas  and  tiny  clusters  of  cane  huts  are  scat- 
tered broadcast  among  the  dark  masses  of  tropical  foliage 
that  cover  the  hills  to  the  very  top.  Between  the  purple 
mountains  and  the  smooth,  shining  sea  the  low,  flat-roof- 
ed, white-walled  houses  of  the  little  town  of  Santa  Cruz 


586 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


(Holy  Cross)  straggle  over  the  narrow  strip  of  level  ground 
like  a  half-finished  game  of  dominoes;  while  high  over  all 
the  magnificent  Peak  of  Teneriffe,  with  its  huge  dark 
green  pyramid  and  sharp  white  summit,  rises  far  up 
against  the  cloudless  brightness  of  the  deep  blue  sky. 

"What  d'ye  think  of  that.  Bill?"  said  one  of  a  party 
of  sailors  who  had  just  lauded  from  ail  English  frigate. 
"Didn't  I  tell  yer  as  you'd  see  some'at  here  worth  look- 
ing at  ?" 

"It's  a  grand  place,"  assented  Bill;  "but  think  o'  this 
here  little  biscuit-box  having  the  cheek  to  call  itself  a 
town!  I'm  a  Frenchman  if  it  don't  look  as  silly  as  a 
ha'porth  o'  treacle  in  a  two-gallon  jug.  If /was  a  mountain, 
I  wouldn't  stand  a  thing  like  that  holdiii'  on  to  me,  like  a 
barnacle  to  a  ship's  keel;  I'd  just  give  myself  a  shake, 
and  send  it  roily-poly  down  into  the  sea!" 

"True  enough,"  said  another  of  the  party.  "Who'd 
ever  think  as  how  that  little  place  could  ha'  stood  out  agin 
Nelson  himself,  and  beat  him  off  too!" 

"Beat  off  Nelson!"  cried  the  man  beside  him,  fiercely. 
"  What  fool's  yarn's  that  as  you're  a-spinnin'  ?  D'ye  think 
there's  any  place  oil  earth  as  could  beat  off  him  ?  Why, 
he'd  ha'  took  Gibraltar  Rock  itself,  he  would,  if  it  hadn't 
been  British  ground  already.'' 

"Sam's  right,  though,  for  all  that,"  struck  in  a  hard- 
faced  old  quartermaster.  ' '  I  don't  say  it's  any  disgrace 
to  the  old  flag,  boys,  that  fifty  men  couldn't  whip  five 
hundred ;  but  it's  true  enough  that  Nelson  did  get  beat  off 
from  here,  and  lost  his  right  arm  into  the  bargain." 

A  smothered  growl  broke  from  thelisteningblue-jackets. 

"And  what's  more,  Jack  my  hearty,  they  took  a  couple 
of  Union-jacks  from  us  in  that  scrimmage,  and  they've 
got  'em  hung  up  in  that  old  church  yonder,  where  I  see'd 
them  with  my  own  eyes  some  three  years  ago." 

' '  What  ?  British  flags  captured  by  them  Spanish  lub- 
bers ?"  cried  Jack  Hartley.  "I  don't  believe  that,  even 
though  it's  you  as  says  it." 

"Well,  my  boy,"  answered  the  veteran  seaman,  coolly, 
"  seeing's  believing,  they  say.  It  ain't  far  to  the  church, 
and  you  can  just  step  up  there  and  see  for  yourself." 

"Now  hark  ye,  my  mates  all,"  cried  Jack,  turning  to 
the  rest  with  a  stern  light  in  his  bold  blue  eyes.  But  the 
words  which  followed  were  spoken  in  a  whisper,  though 
they  seemed  to  have  a  very  exciting  effect  upon  all  who 
heard  them. 

"/'m  game  for  it,"  said  one,  squaring  his  brawny  chest 
with  a  business-like  air. 

"And  I." 

"Audi." 

"You'll  get  us  into  trouble,  Jack,"  said  the  old  quarter- 
master, shaking  his  gray  head ;  "  but  if  it's  got  to  be  done 
you  won't  catch  old  Tom  Crosstree  skulking." 

"Come  along,  then,  my  hearties,"  sang  out  Jack;  and 
the  tars,  closing  up,  tramped  steadily  up  the  steep  narrow 
street  to  the  church  door,  and  entered  in  a  body. 

Two  or  three  of  them  looked  rather  blank  011  seeing 
that  there  were  a  good  many  people  in  the  church;  but 
old  Tom,  now  that  he  was  fairly  in  the  business,  seemed 
as  much  in  earnest  as  any  one,  and  was  instantly  ready 
with  a  word  of  encouragement. 

"Never  mind,  boys.  If  it  comes  to  a  fight,  one  blue- 
jacket's a  match  for  three  Spaniards  any  day." 

The  old  sexton,  knowing  by  experience  how  freely 
sailors  scattered  their  money,  hurried  forward  to  receive 
his  new  guests,  and  began  pointing  out  to  them  the  pic- 
turesque carving  of  the  roof,  the  holy  images  along  the 
walls,  the  various  offerings  placed  around  them  by  pious 
Spaniards,  and  last  but  not  least  the  two  captured  Union- 
jacks. 

He  had  just  opened  his  mouth  to  tell  the  story  of  their 
'•apture,  when  a  gag  was  thrust  into  it  by  Jack  Hartley's 
brawny  hand,  while  the  old  quartermaster  pinioned  his 
arms  from  behind.  Two  others  snatched  from  the  wall 


the  dusty,  moth-eaten  flags  which  they  had  come  to  res- 
cue, and  then  the  whole  party  made  a  rush  for  the  door. 

But  the  scuffle  had  attracted  attention,  and  while  some 
of  the  native  visitors  ran  out  to  give  the  alarm,  the  rest  at- 
tempted to  hold  the  doorway,  and  keep  the  English  from 
getting  out.  A  few  knock-down  blows,  however,  from 
the  sledge-hammer  fists  of  the  sailors  soon  cleared  a  pas- 
sage; but  meanwhile  the  alarm  had  spread,  and  when  the 
party  burst  out  of  the  church  they  found  the  whole  street 
blocked  up  by  an  infuriated  mob  yelling  for  vengeance 
upon  the  "sacrilegious  heretics." 

And  now  the  fight  began  in  earnest.  Showers  of 
stones,  mud,  and  decayed  fruit  darkened  the  air.  In  front 
the  crushing  blows  of  the  tars  bore  down  all  opposition, 
but  the  throng  gave  way  there  only  to  press  more  fiercely 
on  their  rear  with  clubs,  stones,  and  even  knives.  More 
than  one  serious  wound  had  been  given  on  either  side,  and 
the  bugle  call  from  the  garrison  warned  the  English  that 
the  soldiers  would  soon  be  upon  them  likewise,  when  the 
crowd  parted  suddenly,  giving  passage  to  their  own  first 
lieutenant  and  thirty  seamen  armed  with  cutlasses. 

"Come,  my  lads,"  cried  the  officer,  "give  back  those 
flags,  and  let's  have  done  with  this.  It  would  be  too  bad 
to  grudge  these  poor  beggars  one  trophy,  when  we've  got 
so  many  of  theirs;  and  even  if  they'd  taken  fifty  flags 
they  can't  rub  out  St.  Vincent  and  Trafalgar." 

The  last  words  hit  just  in  the  right  place.  The  men 
answered  with  a  hearty  cheer,  and  restoring  the  flags, 
filed  down  to  the  shore  without  another  word. 

"Who  were  the  ringleaders  in  this  business,  Mr.  Sea- 
forth  ?"  asked  the  English  Captain  half  an  hour  later,  try- 
ing hard  to  look  very  stern. 

"I'd  rather  you  didn't  ask  me.  sir,  if  you'll  excuse  me, 
for  if  I'd  been  one  of  them,  I  really  think  I'd  have  done 
the  same  myself." 

But  what  the  Captain  thought  we  shall  never  know. 
He  was  silent  for  a  while,  and  when  he  did  speak  it  was 
about  something  else. 


NOTE. — This  story  was  told  me  rather  confusedly  by  the  old  sailor; 
but  the  main  statements,  as  far  as  I  can  learn,  are  correct. — D.  K. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      J  A  M  E  S      OTIS, 

AUTHOR  OF"  TOBY  TYLER,''  "TiM  AND  TIP,"  "Jin.  STUBES'S  BROTHER,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
HOMEWARD    BOUND. 

~V\7"ITHIN  two  hours  after  the  shipwrecked  party  were 
T  »  on  the  Pearl  all  the  mischief  wrought  by  the  storm 
had  been  repaired,  save  in  the  case  of  the  tender,  and  she 
could  not  be  made  thoroughly  serviceable  again  until  the 
proper  tools  and  material  could  be  procured. 

When  Captain  Sammy  had  patched  her  up  with  gum 
and  flannel  it  was  only  with  the  idea  that  she  might  be 
used  for  taking  them  back  to  the  Pearl  again.  He  knew 
very  well  that  she  would  not  be  serviceable  for  a  longer 
time  than  that  would  occupy,  and  when,  everything  else 
being  done,  the  little  tender  was  pulled  on  board  the  Pearl, 
it  did  not  require  a  very  careful  examination  to  see  that  it 
would  not  be  safe  to  venture  in  her  again. 

"We  can't  land  again,  boys,  unless  at  some  place  where 
we  can  run  the  steamer  right  up  to  the  bank,  for  it  would 
be  worse  than  fool-hardy  to  attempt  to  get  any  distance  in 
this  boat,  especially  in  waters  where  the  alligators  are  as 
plenty  as  they  are  around  here." 

The  boys  were  rather  disappointed  when  they  reali/rd 
that  their  hunting  trips  were  over;  but  they  did  not  un- 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HARPER'S  TOONG  PEOPLE. 


JULY   17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


587 


[lerstand  that  the  loss  of  that  pleasure  was  not  all  that  the 
wrecking  of  the  hoat  meant  for  them,  until  Captain  Sam- 
my said: 

"  And  if  you  can't  go  on  shore  we  shall  be  sadly  put  to 
it  for  provisions.  We  shall  be  obliged  to  eat  fish  three 
ime-  a  day.  and  I  reckon  you'll  get  rather  tired  of  that 
iiiid  of  a  diet  before  long." 

"  But  what  can  we  do  'f  asked  Dare. 

Then  it  became  evident  from  his  reply  that  C'aptaiii 
Sammy  had  been  leading  the  conversation  up  to  the  point 
ivhere  such  a  question  would  necessarily  be  asked,  for  he 
replied,  quickly: 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  we'd  better  do.  and  then 
(rou  can  decide  matters  to  please  yourselves,  for  I'm  will 
ng  to  go  or  stay,  just  as  \<m  say.  It's  settled  that  we 
;an't  land  here  unless  we  keep  steam  up  all  the  time,  and 
;hat  we  can  hardly  do.  on  account  of  coal.  Now  it  will 
ret  lonesome  after  you've  been  shut  up  on  the  boat  a  few- 
lays,  so  I  propose  that  you  go  mi  shore  for  a  grand  hunt 
ng  excursion  to-morrow,  and  that  we  lay  still  the  next 
lay,  of  course,  for  it  is  Sunday.  On  -Monday  we  will 
itart  for  the  sponge  fisheries,  where  some  of  my  vessels 
ire,  and  from  there  go  home.  In  Tampa  we  can  get  our 
>oat  lixed,  fit  the  Pearl  out  anew,  and  then  start  for  the 
Florida  reefs.  What  do  you  say  j" 

Since  returning  to  Tampa  did  not  mean  giving  up  the 
•ruise,  but  simply  making  two  installments  of  it.  the  ho\  s 
•eadily  agreed  to  the  little  man's  plan,  and  began  over 
lauling  and  cleaning  their  guns  preparatory  to  the  next 
lay's  hunt. 

Some  fishing  was  done  over  the  rail  that  afternoon,  not 
'or  the  sake  of  the  sport,  but  that  they  might  have  food; 
md  when  the  party  went  to  bed  at  night  there  was  not 
>ne  among  them  who  felt  sorry  he  was  so  soon  to  leave 
.he  Everglades. 

( )n  the  following  morning  there  was  a  light  hree/.e  -el 
ing  toward  the  land,  and  Captain  Sammy  concluded  to 
illow  the  little  craft  to  drift  in  to  the  shore  rather  than 
;-o  to  the  trouble  of  getting  up  steam;  but  he  look  very 
rood  care  to  let  go  the  anchor  some  distance  from  the 
ihore,  paying  out  the  cable  till  her  how  struck  the  heach. 
io  that  she  could  be  hauled  out  to  a  safer  anchorage  at 
light. 

His  orders  to  the  sailors-turned-hunters  wen-  that  they 
ihould  not  go  into  the  woods  more  than  a.  quarter  of  a 
nile  at  the  most,  and  that  under  no  circumstances  were 
hey  to  follow  any  wounded  animal  more  than  a  hundred 
rards. 

Not  being  particularly  in  search  of  large  game,  the  boys 
vere  perfectly  willing  to  obey  the  commands  which  were 
;iven  with  a  view  to  their  own  safety,  and  their  hunting 
hat  day  was  chiefly  directed  to  getting  more  specimens 
>f  the  feathered  tribe  to  add  to  their  already  rather  large 
lollection. 

But  Dare  was  careful  to  see  that  their  larder  was  pro- 
'ided  for,  and  he  bagged  quite  as  much  game  as  could  be 
aten  before  it  would  spoil,  after  which  he  joined  the  oth- 
:rs  in  their  search  for  rare  birds. 

During  the  entire  day  the  hunting  match  was  kept  up, 
he  boys  going  011  board  the  steamer  once  or  twice  for  the 
lurpose  of  carrying  their  game,  or  of  getting  something 
o  eat,  and  when  night  came  they  were  quite  tired  enough 
o  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  they  had  rolled  into  their  berths. 

The  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  was  spent  quietly  on 
he  steamer.  Captain  Sammy  talking  to  them  in  a  way 
vhich  was  as  impressive  as  any  sermon  they  had  ever 
leard. 

Bright  and  early  Monday  morning  Charley  was  up  and 
n  the  engine-room,  and  by  seven  o'clock  the  paddles  of 
he  Pearl  began  to  revolve  as  she  started  on  the  honie- 
rard  trip. 

Down  through  the  narrow  stream  leading  from  Lake 
)keechobee  to  Lake  Kackpoch.ee  the  steamer  glided,  and  , 


if  the  tender  had  been  in  condition  to  use,  the  boys  would 
have  pleaded  hard  for  one  day  on  the  smaller  lake,  so 
much  more  cheerful-looking  did  it  seem  than  the  vast 
body  of  water  on  which  they  had  been  so  lony. 

The  first  day's  journey  ended  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
arternoon.  when  the  yacht  came  to  anchor  a  short  distance 
below  Fort  Deynaud,  and  after  supper  all  hands  went  into 
the  standing-room,  as  had  come  to  be  their  custom  at  the 
close  of  each  day. 

After  they  had  been  there  a  short  time  Captain  Sammy 
pulled  out  of  his  pocket  a  small  piece  of  printed  paper, 
which  was  very  much  crumpled  and  soiled. 

"There,"  he  said,  as  he  handed  it  to  Dare — "there  is  a 
piece  about  sponges  that  I  cut  out  of  an  old  book  I  found, 
an'  I  want  you  to  read  it  aloud,  so's  you  an'  your  mess- 
mates will  know-all  about  what  they're  goin'  to  see,  an' 
uon'l  he  worrying  the  life  out  of  me  asking  questions.'' 

Dare  took  the  printed  slip  in  silence — for  he  had  learned 
that  it  was  better  not  to  argue  with  Captain  Sammy,  even 
"hen  he  appeared  to  be  unjust — and  read  the  article,  as 
he  had  been  told  to  do.  while  the  little  man  smoked  and 
stroked  his  chin  with  evident  satisfaction. 
This  is  what  Dare  read  : 

"The  kind  of  sponges  that  are  lit  for  use  are  found  in 
the  seas  of  warm  climates.  Two  species  are  brought  from 
the  Levant,  and  a  very  inferior  one  from  the  West  Indies 
and  coast  of  Florida.  The  trade  in  ponges  is  very  con- 
siderable, and  is  carried  on  chiefly  by  the  Turks  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Bahama  Islands.  The  number  of  men 

employed  in  the  Ottoman  sj ye   lishery  i-  hetueen  4000 

and  .Mil Ml.  forming  the  crews  of  about  six  hundred  boats. 
These  boats  lind  their  chief  employment  on  the  coasts  of 
Candia.  Barbary,  and  Syria.  Here  the  sponge  is  obtain- 
ed by  divers,  who  take  down  with  (hem  a  flat  piece  of 
stone  of  triangular  shape,  with  a  hole  drilled  through  one 
of  its  corners.  To  this  a  cord  is  attached.  When  a  diver 
reaches  the  growing  sponges,  he  tears  them  off  the  rocks, 
and  places  them  under  his  arms;  he  then  pulls  at  the  cord, 
which  gives  the  signal  to  his  companions  in  the  boat  to 
draw  him  up. 

"The  value  of  sponges  collected  in  Greece  and  Turkey 
is  from  .-q.Mi.dou  io  s.Mio.oiio  annually.  The  Greeks  of  the 
Morea,  instead  of  diving,  obtain  sponges  by  a  pronged  in- 
strument ;  but  the  sponges  thus  collected  are  torn,  and  sell 
at  a  low  price.  The  best  sponge.-  are  obtained  from  de- 
tached heads  of  rock  in  eight  or  ten  fathoms  of  water. 
The  sponges  from  the  Bahamas  and  the  Florida  coast  are 
of  a  larger  size  and  coarser  quality.  They  are  torn  from 
the  rocks  by  a  fork  at  the  end  of  a  long  pole.  To  rid 
them  of  the  animal  matter,  they  are  buried  for  some  days 
in  the  sand,  and  then  soaked  and  washed." 

' '  There, "  said  Captain  Sammy,  when  Dare  had  finished 
reading,  "i  could  have  told  you  all  that  just  as  well  as 
for  you  to  read  it;  but  now  you've  got  it  just  as  it  was 
writ  down,  an'  if  it  ain't  right  you  can't  be  throwin'  it  in 
my  teeth  that  I  don't  know  nothing." 

Then  Captain  Sammy  relapsed  into  a  moody  silence, 
looking  as  if  no  amount  of  coaxing  or  persuasion  could 
thaw  him  out,  for  fully  ten  minutes.  At  the  end  of  that 
time  he  began  to  tell  stories,  only  stopping  when  it  was 
absolutely  necessary  they  should  go  to  bed. 

Just  before  they  retired  Captain  Sammy  announced 
that  he  was  anxious  to  anchor  in  Charlotte  Harbor  the 
next  night,  so  that  they  could  reach  the  sponge  fishers  at 
an  early  hour  Wednesday  morning. 

To  do  this  it  would  be  necessary  to  begin  their  prepara- 
tions for  the  start  as  soon  as  it  was  light  enough  to  admit 
of  their  working. 

It  hardly  seemed  to  the  boys  as  if  they  had  been  in  bed 
ten  minutes  when  Captain  Sammy  called  them  next  morn- 
ing; but  they  got  up,  regardless  of  their  desire  for  anoth- 
er nap,  and  the  result  of  their  early  rising  was  that  they 
swung  around  the  point  of  Boca  Grande  Key  just  at  sunset. 


588 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


poses,  should  be  as  thin  as 
possible;  so  also  should  the 
zinc ;  the  hinges  ought  to  be 
about  an  inch  long.  The 
iron  bar  will  be  described 
hereafter. 

The  following  are  the  sizes 
and  descriptions  of  pieces  of 
wood  for  a  cage  eighteen 
inches  long  by  thirteen  inch- 
es high  and  ten  inches  deep : 


FRAME-WORK. 

by  18    inches.     Bottom. 


D      3* 


E 
F 
G 
G' 


is 


18 


En. Is. 
Ends. 
(  Front  half 

|         Ot'cnMT. 

\  Upper  half 
"(      of  back. 


SLEEPING-BOXES. 


17 

17 

3 

3 


ches. 


HOOKS. 

II      9     by  IS    inches. 

K      4$   '•      5f      " 

K'    4J   "      r.ij      - 
K  '    4>-   "      5*      " 


Bottom. 
Front. 
Divisions. 
Divisions. 

\  Lower  part 
I     <>f  back. 

I    Cover        Of 


boxes. 


THE    BOYS    ADDING   TO   THEIR   STOCK    OF   CURIOUS    BIIiDS 


The  yacht  had  been  kept  running  at  full  speed  all  day, 
and,  as  a  natural  consequence,  each  one  of  the  boys  had 
been  obliged  to  work  so  hard  that  he  had  not  the  slightest 
desire  to  visit  the  picturesque  little  town  on  the  key. 

They  retired  at  once,  and  the  start  for  the  sponging 
grounds  was  made  at  nearly  as  early  an  hour  on  the  follow- 
ing morning,  each  one  on  the  alert  to  see  this  strange  fish- 
ery, where  a  marine  plant  was  the  kind  of  fish  sought  for. 

['I'd    UK   CONTINUED.] 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A  CAGE  FOR  WHITE  MICE. 

BY  W.  G.  CAMPBELL. 

TO  make  a  cage  with  sleeping-boxes  in  the  upper  part 
and  a  ladder  for  the  mice  to  ascend  and  descend  by  is 
by  no  means  difficult  nor  expensive.  It  is  very  pleasant 
to  watch  the  little  inhabitants  climbing  up  and  down  and 
running  in  and  out  of  the  holes  in  their  upstairs  rooms, 
and  to  see  them  swinging  about  in  their  boat -swings. 
And  after  one  or  two  days  they  do  not  seem  at  all  to  wish 
to  get  out  or  to  gnaw  their  bars,  as  many  mice  do  if  con- 
fined in  a  narrow  space.  I  will  first  give  a  list  of  the 
materials  and  their  cost,  and  then  proceed  to  describe  how 
the  cage  is  to  be  made: 


Thick  wire  .... 

Cents. 

.   lu 

Emery-paper 

"'Cen 
.) 

2 

6 

Zinc   

.   16 

Screws  for  handle 

1 

Perforated  ziuc    . 

o 

Iron  bar       

12 

a 

1 

Screws  for  hinges 

.     4 
2 

Total 

73 

Brads           .... 

.     G 

Tacks 

.     4 

Without  handle  and  bar 

.  53 

These  articles  can  be  readily  obtained  at  any  hardware 
store,  except  the  emery-paper ;  that  is  to  be  bought  at  a  paint 
store.  The  thick  wire  should  be  about  as  thick  as  a  thin 
knitting-needle;  the  other  wire,  as  it  is  for  binding  pur- 


The  wood   should   be  oiie- 
lialf  inch  thick. 

First  of  all,  the  pieces  B  B 
should  be  nailed  at  the  ends 
of  A,  leaving  one  inch  of  A 
projecting  at  back,  and  then 
from  the  top  of  each  of  them  a  strip  five  inches  by  one- 
half  inch  should  be  cut,  so  that  the  piece  (.'  can  now  be 
nailed  to  join  the  ends  and  form  the  front  half  of  cover. 
Across  upper  half  of  back  we  will  next  nail  D.  The  frame- 
work is  thus  finished. 

Now  let  us  make  the  sleeping-boxes.  First,  we  must 
with  a  centre-bit  bore  three  holes  an  inch  in  diameter  in 
piece  F  for  entrances  to  nests;  then  let  us  nail  G  and  G' 
on  one  side  of  F  to  divide  sleeping-box  into  three  equal 
compartments;  to  these  we  should  next  nail  E,  projecting 
an  inch  and  five-eighths  beyond  F  to  form  run  in  front  of 
nests.  Two  holes  should  then  be  bored  with  a  brad-awl 
near  the  front  edge  of  this  run,  opposite  middle  hole  to 
F,  to  receive  ends  of  ladder,  which  will  be  described  here- 
after. Next,  we  must  tack  a  strip  of  zinc  along  this  run 
with  eight  or  nine  tacks,  punching  small  holes  just  above 
those  bored  with  brad-awl;  then  nail  the  sleeping-boxes 
thus  made  to  B  B  and  D  as  shown  in  drawing,  leaving  a 
slit  of  one-eighth  of  an  inch  between  F  and  back  edge  of 
C,  through  which  a  piece  of  zinc  four  by  seventeen  inch- 
es is  to  be  slipped,  to  keep  the  mice  in  their  boxes  while 
cleaning  out  the  cage.  The  ends,  bottom,  and  large  door 
should  then  be  lined  with  zinc  inside,  leaving  a  space  of 
half  an  inch  all  round  front  of  cage,  where  the  wires  are 
to  come;  and  just  under  the  holes  bored  in  the  run  out- 
side I  he  sleeping-box  punch  two  others  the  same  distance 
apart  in  the  zinc  which  lines  the  bottom;  these  are  to  hold 
the  lower  spikes  of  the  ladder.  The  zinc  should  be  tacked 
down  as  well  in  the  middle  as  at  the  edges,  having  holes 
punched  in  it  for  the  tacks  to  go  through. 

Now  bore  holes  a  quarter  of  an  inch  apart  along  C, 
and  same  in  but  not  through  A,  about  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  from  front  edge  of  each;  then  cut  off  from  your  wire 
enough  pieces  twelve  inches  and  three-quarters  long  to  go 
through  these  holes,  which  will  be  about  sixty-eight  in 
number.  Let  the  wood  of  A  be  about  half  an  inch  thick 
or  a  little  more,  so  that  the  wires  can  have  as  much  hold 
in  it  as  possible.  Straighten  your  wires,  emery-paper 


JULY  17,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


589 


thorn,  and  push  them  through  the  tup  holes,  and  bring 
them  down  to  the  corresponding  ones  in  the  bottom;  then 
fix  two  longitudinal  wires  from  B  to  B  across  the  front 
ol'  the  other.-,  and  bind  these  upright  wires  to  them  with 
the  plii'.nt  wire. 

Hinge  the  doors  to  D,  as  shown  in  drawing,  and  splay 
front  edge  of  each  of  small  doors  K.  K  .  and  K  .  and  top 
edge  of  F.  so  that  these  doors  may  shut  closely.  Each 
small  door  should  also  have  a  hole  made  with  the  centre- 
bit  ill  the  middle,  and  a  piece  of  perforated  /inc  should  be 
tacked  over  them  inside  to  ventilate  the  ne-t-. 

\\"e  now  come  to  the  ladder.  Get  I  V" '  piece-  of  wood 
elicit  inches  and  three-quarters  lonv-  by  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  broad,  and  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick,  and  make  holes 
every  half-inch  along  them,  and  in  each  end  of  them  bore  a 
hole,  and  drive  a  pice.'  of  thick  wire  live  eighths  of  an  inch 
long  in  all  these  end  holes,  leaving  three  eighths  of  an  inch 
projecting  from  top  ends  and  a  quarter  of  an  inch  from  hot 
torn;  then  break  off  enough  pieces  an  inch  long  to  go  into 
remaining  holes  of  one  of  your  sticks,  and  drive  them  in, 
but  not  so  as  to  come  through  the  oilier  side  :  then  drive 
the  other  ends  into  the  remaining  stick,  and  your  ladder 
is  finished.  The  boat-swings  can  lie  easily  made  in  the 

same  manner  after  looking  at  dra\\ 
i  ing,  ami    fastened    at    tin-   top    of    the 

— '==P  ^/>      wire  that  they  are  hung  by  with  two 

-$•      staples  to  floor  of  sleeping-box.     The 

fastening-  can  be  made  IV -taples, 

those  marked  n  for  large  door,  and  /<  for  siua  1 1  d B;    tin 

hooks  of  a  should  be  pul  a  liti  le  lower  than  the  middle  of 

lai-"'e  door,  and  the  catches  in  ends  of  . 

Nou  if  you  are  going  to  have  a  handle,  'j-et  as  small  an 
iron  one  as  will  comfortably  lift  your  cage,  and  screw  it 


<  A(,li    FOR    WHITE    MICK. 

on  to  C,  as  near  sleeping  boxes  as  possible;  then  as  you 
will  lind  the  sleeping  box  side  will  lie  the  heavier,  you 
might  get  a  bar  of  old  iron  eighteen  indies  long,  between 
one  fourth  of  an  inch  and  three-eighths  of  an  inch  thick, 
and  broad  enough  I"  make1  your  cage  weigh  equally. 
Have  three  boles  drilled  in  it.  and  screw  it  underneath  the 
Cage  111  front. 

When  mice  are  lir-t  put  in  such  a  cage  as  T  have  de- 
scribed, the  ladder  appears  -teep  for  them.  but.  they  SOO11 
'jet  u-ed  to  it,  and  reach  t  heir  nests  ill  two  or  three  bounds 
from  the  floor. 


-r 
"  SHIP    AHOY  !"— DRAWN  BY  H.  P.  WOLCOTT. 


590 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ABOUT  EARNING  MONET. 

SOME  of  the  boys  have  written  to  the  Postmis- 
tress asking  her  to  tell  them  how  they  may 
earn  a  little  money  during  vacation.  One  bright- 
eyed  little  man— George  R.,  Jun.,  is  his  name- 
has  solved  the  problem  for  himself.  He  has  a 
boat  called  the  Pocahontas,  and  as  his  home  is 
near  a  favorite  summer  resort,  visited  during  the 
season  by  numbers  of  people  from  the  city,  he 
rows  passengers  across  a  certain  little  stream  at 
five  cents  a  trip.  He  intends  to  buy  a  pony  with 
his  money  when  he  shall  have  earned  enough  to 
pay  for  one.  I  will  not  tell  you  where  George 
lives,  but  it  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  among 
my  young  friends  there  may  be  a  half-dozen  who, 
before  vacation  is  over,  may  take  a  seat  in  the 
pretty  Pocahontas,  and  have  my  brave  little  lad- 
die for  their  ferryman. 

Another  boy  of  my  acquaintance,  who  expect- 
ed a  year  or  two  ago  to  spend  his  vacation  wholly 
in  town,  asked  his  father's  permission  to  learn 
something  about  business  life  in  the  ten  weeks 
before  school  should  re -open.  He  sought  and 
found  a  place  in  an  office,  and  pleased  his  em- 
ployers so  well  by  his  promptness  and  intelligence 
that  when  he  had  been  graduated  thev  at  once 
gave  him  a  permanent  situation. 

But  I  want  t<>  tell  you  about  Hal  W.  and  his 
sister  Bessie.    They  wanted  ever  so  much  to  go 
to  the  mountains  this  summer,  and  weeks  ago 
they  asked  their  mother  if  she  would  give  her 
consent.    She  shook  her  head  rather  sadly. 
••  Where  is  the  money  to  come  from,  my  dears?" 
Bessie  knew,  if  Hal  did  not.  that  there  was  im 
money  to  spare.    Mrs.  W.  paints  pictures,  and  is 
sometimes  paid  very  well  for  them,  and  some- 
times, alas  !  the  pictures  do  not  find  purchasers. 
"  If  you  and  Bessie  can  manage  to  earn  enough 
to  pay  your  own  expenses,  you  may  go  to  Wild- 
rose-ville  in  August,"  said  the  mother. 

Now  some  children  would  have  said.  "  What's 
the  use  of  trying?"  Not  so  Bessie  and  Hal,  who 
are  young  Americans,  and  have  plenty  of  pluck 
and  persistence.  They  shook  all  the  pennies  out 
of  their  savings-banks  and  counted  them,  and 
added  to  their  sum  several  silver  pieces  which 
had  been  given  them  about  the  Fourth  of  July 
by  uncles  and  cousins  to  invest  in  torpedoes. 
They  had  not  wasted  a  penny  on  torpedoes,  and 
when  they  footed  up  their  wealth  it  amounted 
to  three  dollars.  With  this  Bessie  bought  a  good 
many  yards  of  strong  brown  gingham  of  a  close- 
checked  pattern.  After  she  brought  it  home  you 
might  have  heard  a  sewing-machine  singing  a 
merry  tune.  As  its  little  needle  flew  up  and  down 
the  seams  it  seemed  to  say,  with  its  auick  click,, 
click,  click. 
Hill  and  Bess  are  going,  I  guess, 

Up  the  beautiful  mountains, 
Where  the  streamlets  flow, where  the  green  ferns 

grow. 
In  the  spray  of  the  snowy  fountains. 

Hal  and  Bess,  they  mean,  I  guess, 

Although  it  is  very  funny. 
To  pay  their  way,  on  a  summer  day. 

With  their  own  bright  golden  money. 

I  see  that  you  are  puzzling  your  brains  over 
the  wnder  what  my  dark-eyed  Bessie  was  mak- 
ing, while  Hal  danced  a  jig  as  each  finished  thing 
was  neatly  folded  anil  laid  away  in  a  flat  basket 
As  you  never  will  find  out,  I  will  tell  you.  She 
made  a  dozen  aprons  such  as  working-men  wear 
to  protect  their  clothing  from  soil  and  dust,  and 
when  they  were  done  Hal  took  the  basket  on  his 
arm,  and  went  to  a  great  building,  where  he  saw 
men  employed,  some  in  one  way  and  some  in  an 
other,  and  there  he  offered  the  aprons  for  sale 
He  asked  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  apiece  for  them 
and  he  sold  the  dozen  in  an  hour.  Bessie  wen 
on  making  and  Hal  went  on  selling  these  usefu 
aprons  to  men  who  were  glad  of  the  ehanee  t 
buy  them,  until  they  had  disposed  of  no  less  than 
two  hundred. 

Another  girl  who  wanted  money,  not  for  her 
self,  but  for  charity,  to  bestow  on  some  poor  chil 
dren  who  were  in  great  need,  went  every  day  fo 
a  month  to  read  the  newspaper  and  the  Bible  to 
an  old  lady  whose  eyes  were  failing,  but  who 


wanted  to  hear  the  Psalms  and  chapters  she 
loved,  and  also  to  know  what  was  going  on  in 
the  world.  The  lady  paid  her  liberally  for  her 
trouble. 

There  is  a  boy  who  writes  a  wonderfully  good 
clear  hand,  almost  equal  to  engraving.  His  name 
is  Ambrose.  He  is  in  request  among  the  ladies 
who  know  him,  to  write  their  names  on  their 
visiting-cards. 

Other  boys  earn  money  with  their  printing- 
presses,  or  by  weeding  in  the  neighbors'  gardens, 
going  errands,  or  lending  a  hand  generally. 

If  you  wish  to  be  of  use,  you  must  keep  on  the 
lookout  in  your  own  neighborhood.  Above  all 
things.be  punctual,  steady,  and  honest,  showing 
that  you  are  worthy  of  trust. 

I  have  a  great  deal  of  respect  for  such  a  little 
girl  as  Cassie  E.  (ten  years  old!,  who  picked  ber- 
ries all  through  the  long  hot  days  of  last  sum- 
mer, sold  them,  and  thus  earned  the  money  to 
ubscribe  for  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  which  she 
vanted  so  much  that  she  was  willing  to  work 
or  it. 

Honor  to  willing  workers  !  Though  I  say  this,  I 
_o  not  want  any  of  my  boys  or  girls  to  think 
hat in  itself  the  pursuit  of  money  is  a  very  grand 
>r  noble  thing. .  Earn  it  for  a  purpose,  and  let 
hat  purpose  be  unselfish.  Professor  Agassiz 
>nce  said,  when  urged  to  lay  aside  his  scientific 
suits  and  engage  in  lecturing, so  that  he  might 
ecure  a  fortune,  "I  have  no  time  to  make 
noney."  Everybody  honored  him  for  feeling 
hat  his  life-work  was  above  mere  gain  or  loss. 
Now  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  y«n 
have  had  a  long  epistle,  and  that  it  is  time  for 
me  to  sign  myself  your  loving  friend, 

THE  POSTMISTRESS. 


BARTOW  COI-NTV,  GEORGIA. 

I  have  vacation  now.  and  mother  keeps  me 
msy  setting  hens  and  hunting  eggs.  Wr  have 
:wo  little  calves — one  named  Jim,  and  the  other 
lose.  I  halter  Jim,  and  Kose  follows,  kicking 

up.  and  I  take  them  down  to  a  nice  grassy  spot. 

We-  have  a  little  Texas  pony,  which  I  often  ride. 

He  has  the  letters  "L  A"  on  his  shoulder:  we 
hink  they  must  have  been  branded  there  when 
it-  \vasa  ri.lt.  I  have  two  little  kittens,  which 
lave  their  eyes  just  open.  "  Raising  the '  Pearl'  " 
sfine.  R.S. 


DANVILLE,  IOWA. 

I  hare  read  many  nice  little  letters  in  the  Post- 
office  Box.  I  wrote  a  letter  once,  but  it  was  not 
jrinted.  and  now  I  will  try  again.  One  of  my 
Hints  sent  me  HARPER'S  YOVNG  PEOPLE  for  a 
Dirthday  present  last  year,  and  I  like  it  very 
much.  Another  one  of  my  aunts  gave  me  an  old 
__en  and  fifteen  little  chickens,  and  when  I  first 
saw  them  there  was  a  piece  of  paper  pinned  on 
the  coop,  pretending  to  be  a  letter  from  the  little 
chickens,  but  it  was  a  piece  of  poetry  that  my 
aunt  composed  fur  me,  which  I  send  you.  hoping 
you  will  publish  it  with  my  letter.  FRED  II. 

We  are  only  little  chickens,  so  very  small 
We  scarcely  walk  or  run  at  all, 
So  feed  us  well,  and  make  us  fat, 
And  let  us  never  see  a  rat. 
The  more  you  feed  the  more  we'll  eat, 
And  scratch  around  with  thirty  feet; 
We'll  pick  the  bugs  out  from  the  grass, 
And  keep  them  from  the  garden-sags. 
But  long  before  we  grow  so  big 
We'll  eat  as  much  as  any  pig. 
And  ne'er  again  we'll  take  to  rhymes, 
So  feed  us  well,  and  many  times. 


upper  side,  and  yellow  on  the  under  side,  and 
people  living  there  say  that  its  bite  is  very  poi- 


MONTROSE,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

I  am  a  boy  ten  years  old,  and  am  spending  my 
vacation  at  a  little  village  near  Jones  Lake.  This 
is  my  first  letter  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  I  want 
to  surprise  my  mamma.  Now  I  will  tell  about 
my  pets.  I  have  a  very  nice  horse  named  Max, 
which  is  very  gentle,  and  I  can  ride  anywhere 
with  him.  I  have  also  a  bull-dog  named  Ben  ;  he 
is  very  gentle,  but  will  bark  at  strangers. 

ROBERT  A. 

COTTAGE  OROTR,  Wiscns;i\. 

We  have  taken  TTARPF.R'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  two 
veai-<.  and  we  think  it  the  choicest  paper  we  ever 
read.  I  am  twelve  years  old.  We  used  to  live 
in  Texas,  and  almost  everything  was  different 
there.  My  sister  and  I  used  to  ride  horseback  a 
great  deal.  A  great  many  girls  there  have  riding 
ponies.  We  did  not  have  hickory-nuts  there,  but 
pecans  instead,  which  we  could  get  plenty  of  for 
the  gathering.  There  were  small  groves  of  mes- 
qnite-ti-ees  a  short  distance  from  the  house, and 
to  these  the  horses  would  go  for  protection  from 
the  sun. 

Papa  and  I  went  out  and  picked  a  dish  of  dew- 
berries for  breakfast.  They  grow  on  low  vines 
on  the  ground ;  they  look  like  our  blackberries 
here  in  "the.  North.  One  time  papa  was  digging 
sweet-potatoes,  and  he  found  a  centipede.  1  will 
describe  it  to  you.  It  is  a  worm  eight  inches  long, 
and  as  big  around  as  my  forefinger,  black  on  the 


NEW  YORK  CITY. 

I  would  like  to  send  the  Little  Housekeepers 
the  receipt  of  a  Creek  dish  we  often  have,  and 
like  very  much  : 

Two  cups  of  tomato  juice  well  strained  ;  two 
eups  of  good  beef  stock;  two  cups  of  Italian  rice, 
or  if  you  can't  get  that.  Carolina  rice  will  do; 
wash  and  dry  it  well ;  when  the  tomato  juice 
and  beef  stock  are  brought,  to  a  boil  put  the  rice 
in  ;  then  add  one  cup  of  butter  and  a  little  salt 
and  pepper;  let  it  all  boil  together  until  it  gets 
quite  stiff  and  dry  and  the  rice  is  soft ;  eat  it  with 
jelly,  or  sugar,  or  nothing  at  all,  just  as  you  like 
best 

I  am  a  little  Greek  girl,  and  my  name  is 

MARIGO  G. 

P.S.— This  dish  was  originally  a  Turkish  dish, 
and  is  called  Pilau.  M.  G. 


LENOX,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  think,  perhaps,  that  you  would  like  to  have  a 
letter  troiii  Lenox,  for  it  is  such  a  beautiful  place, 
away  among  the  Berkshire  Hills.  Now  is  t  lie  sea- 
son for  laurel,  and  we  have  got  a  great  deal  al- 
ready; it  is  very  pretty.  It  is  so  pink  when  it 
first  conies  out !  It  is  lovely  up  here  now.  and 
there  are  a  great  many  people  here  for  the  sum- 
mer. I  live  here  all  the  year  with  my  papa  anil 
mamma.  I  have  two  brothers,  but  they  an-  away 
at  school  all  winter.  I  have  a  pony,  and  his  name 
is  Jack.  I  ride  nearly  every  day.  We  have  lots 
of  strawberries  in  our  garden.  I  wish  I  could 
send  you  one,  so  that  you  could  see  how  large 
they  are.  Your  loving  little  friend  J.  B.  H. 


NEW  YORK  OTV. 

T  have  never  written  to  you  before.  Mamma 
takes  ill.'  MAGAZINE,  and  I  like'  it  almo-t  us  well 
as  my  own  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  read  all  the  arti- 
cles iii  it.  I  liked  t  lie  one  about  Wales  very  much. 
I  have  been  there.  We  lived  in  the  little  village 
called  Llanstephan.  I  have  often  been  in  the  old 
castle.  Mamma  and  I  went  up  to  the  highest 
tower.  The  people  are  very  nice  ;  the  older  wo- 
men wear  very  high-crowned  hats.  I  have  a  little 
skye  terrier;  her  name  is  Jessie.  Every  morn- 
ing in  winter  I  take  her  for  a  walk  in  Central 
Park.  MAY  S. 


OAK  OROVK,  MAHYLANH. 

I  am  fourteen  years  old.  and  have  never  writ- 
ten to  YOUNG  PKOIM.F.  before.  I  have  taken  it 
ever  since  it  was  first  published,  and  think  the 
stories  and  pictures  are  splendid.  I  have  two 
little  brothers,  named  Alfie  and  Raymond,  and 
Raymond  is  just  as  sweet  as  he  can  be.  I  have 
no  pets,  except  a  jar  of  tadpoles  that  I  got  when 
they  were  little  black  eggs,  although  a  girl  has 
promised  to  give  me  a  kitten  to  take  home  with 
me  when  I  go.  We  live  in  Baltimore  in  winter. 
and  papa  has  rented  a  place  near  the  city  for  the 
summer,  but  I  am  laying  with  my  aunts  in  Mont- 
gomery County  for  a  few  weeks,  and  having  a 
grand  time  riding  horseback,  and  so  forth. 

EMILY  B.  S. 


ST.  IONACE,  MICHIGAN. 

1  am  going  to  write  my  first  letter  to  the  Post- 
office  Box.  I  am  a  little  boy  seven  years  old.  My 
sister  Floy  and  I  take  YOUNG  PEOPLE  together. 
It  comes  in  her  name,  though.  We  live  in  a  very 
pretty  place  on  a  point  of  land,  and  can  see  wa- 
ter on  nearly  all  sides  of  us.  I  have  been  going 
to  school  since  last  October,  and  now  1  am  poi- 
soned with  ivy,  and  I  tell  you  I  don't  feel  very 
nice.  I  hope  this  letter  is  not  too  long.  Good-by. 

JOHNNIE  M. 

I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  been  so  un- 
fortunate. Boys  should  be  careful  in  the  woods 
where  poison-ivy  grows. 


OnEBOGt'H,  YARMOUTH. 

I  am  ten  years  old.  My  sister  began  to  take 
Y<  IIN<;  PEOPLE  this  year,  and  I  like  it  very  much. 
I  always  love  to  read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office 
Box,  and  of  the  stories  I  think  "  liaising  the 
'  Pearl'  "  is  the  best,  and  Mr.  Thomson's  and 
Jimmy  Brown's  are  the  funniest.  I  have  no  pets 
except  a  large  Newfoundland  dog.  of  which  I  am 
very  fond.  I  live  on  a  farm.  Yesterday  was  a 
holiday,  to  celebrate  the  first  settlement  of  Yar- 
mouth. In  the  morning,  at  seven  o'clock,  there 
was  a  Polymorpheus  Procession  of  Antiques  anil 
Horribles,  and  at  ten  a  procession  of  firemen, 


.in.v  IT.  issn. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


591 


ami  in  tin-  afternoon,  at  two,  races  and  games 
.ITI  ill"  seminary  grounds.  But  in  tin-  evening  it 
\x  oa  tin'  best.  Tin-  houses  wen-  lighted  with  wax 
candlesand  Cliincse  lantenis.  There  wa~  ;\  torch- 
light procession,  headed  by  the  brass  band  in  a. 
chariot.  niiniA  II. 

I  think  the  letters  and  Jimmy  Brown's  stories 
an-  vry  nice  \l\  brother  has  taken  tin  pap'-i- 
ever  since  tin-  lir-'t  number.  He  hail  tin-  scarlet 
fever  not  IOIIL'  ago.  an'l  as  I  have  never  had  it.  I 
hail  t-i  stay  a  w-.i\  In  nil  him  f<  T  live  weeks,  -Mam 
ma  siaid  with  him  nisrht  and  day,  and  sin-  read  to 

him  m-arly  all  tin-  pii s  in  the  bound  volumes 

Of  YOUNO  PSOPLE.  I  have  a  canary  bird  named 
Beauty.  I  go  to  tlie  Fifth  Ward  Public  Sclioi.l. 
and  I 'like  it  Very  much.  We  have  arithmetic, 
geography,  graiimiiir,  reading,  and  spelling.  I 
am  seven  \eats  Mill  HATTH;  C. 

Dear  Ilatlic  forgot  to  give  me  her  address, 
which  1  regret,  for  this  is  a  nice  little  letter. 


li.iw  tn  speak  but] i  Fren  eh  and  English,  and  under- 
stand  '  .•  mi  an  i  s,.  111 1  you  a  receipt  f<T  sponge 
cake, .and  hope  that  it  will  please  you.  1  bid  vu 

g 1    b\  III  Mt.M   I.    I.. 

SPONGI  '   -,KE.— Takenveeggs.andseparate  ili. 
whites  in. in  i  he  \nlks:  beat  the  yolks  with  six 

spoonfuls  of  white  sugar:  then  take  six  s) i 

I  u U  of  Hour  and  two  tea-spoonfuls  of  \  ea~t  pow 
der;  brat  the  whites  to  a  froth,  and  mix  all  to 
Aether  ;  bake  in  a  moderate  oven. 


I  am  a  boy  nine  y  ars  old.  and  I  like  YOI-M; 

Pnol'I.K  Very  tllllch.  I  like  the  stor>  of  "  liaising 
the  '  1'enrl  '  "  1  have  no  pels  except  a  do-  named 
.lack  This  ,s  tl,e  tirst  letter  I  ever  sent  to  your 
paper  I  like  I  o  read  t  he  letters  HI  I  he  I'ost  office 

Hox.  and  send  much  love   to   the   young   | pie 

who  write  them.        GBOBOB  B. 

s  is   Kii  \s,-ii.-,i,  di  i. 

I  have  no  brothers  nor  sisters,  nor  any  pd-.  so 

I  play  with  my  dolls.     I  would  like  to  join  the 
Little  Housekeepers' Society     I  maiic  a  cl 

late  cake  after  a  receipt  given  in  this  paper:  it 
was  very  nice.  I  now  send  a  vcr\  nice  receipt 
for  bread  pudding  and  for  cookies. 

Hut  ui  I IM.       Moisten  with  boiling  water 

enough  bread  to  half  lill  a  law  earthen  dish: 
add  1  \.  cups  of  raisins.  I \.  cups  of  currants,  half 

a   "Up  of  \\  "II  "hopped   suet,  some  line  I  y  cho|>|.eil 

citron  and  mixed  spice  .'  <  ttps  oi  In-own  sugar. 
and  live  eggs  well  beaten.  Bak<  1  '..  hours  in  a 
slow  oven 

COOKIKS        One    cup    of    sllltiir.    three    eggs,    jllsl 

enouitli  Hour  to  roll,  half  a  cup  of  butter,  and 

oil"   lei    spoonful   of   yeast    poWller. 

Will  sum ic   give   me   a  n ipt  for  ju|iilie 

paste  NASMK  |i. 

NIKILISI,*    I  ITV,  NHIH*>IK  v 

I  am  a  little  hoy  seven  years  old,    I  have  taken 

II  \  r.l'Kit's  Yin  M.    l'i;ori  i.  -.in,  -e  it  was  tir-t   pub- 
lished, and    I   lo\e   it   so  much  that   I  can   li;mll\ 
wait  until  it  comes.     I  like  "  Raising  the  '  Pearl'  " 
better  than  liny  of  the  stories      This  is  my  first 

letter  to   the    Post   office    liox        I  Can't    Write    vcr.V 

well  yet.  so  my  sisicr  is  w  riling  for  me.  lint  I  am 
tellimt  her  what  to  sa\ 

I  haven't  any  brothers,  but  I  have  one  little  sis 
ter  ten  \cars  old  and  In  e  big  sisters  I  ha\c  a 
pii:,  and'  two  kitties.  ati<l  lots  of  little  duckies. 
It  is  minim;  to  da  \.and  I  can't  (to  out  to  play  I 
do  hope  i  he  dear  Postmistress  will  think  in>  let 
ter  nice  cnouith  to  print.  1  .lust  love  her.  and  if 
I  c\er  sto  to  New  York  i  am  noimt  to  see  her.  I 
send  lots  of  love  and  a  kiss  to  her. 

WlI.I.AIll)   S.  II. 

The  I'osi mistress  loves  all  the  children,  and 
would  always  think  their  letters  nice  enough  to 
print,  if  then-  were  an  clastic  Post  office  Box 
instead  of  this  one.  which  has  just  so  many  col 
ninns,  and  no  more.  A  kiss  to  you,  Master  Wil 
lard. 


PHILATIEI  PHIA,  PKNVSVI  V»M». 

I  am  a  little  ftirl  seven  years  old.  I  have  a  ca 
nary  named  Nellie,  after  my  teacher.  We  ni.it.  ,1 
her  With  my  sifter's  bird,  and  she  had  three  little 
ei:i:s  in  h.r  11"  st  i  1 1  ic  mo  I'll  ing  the  cage  fell  down. 
and  although  the  birds  were  not  injured,  all  the 
eggs  were  broken.  NIN  M. 

Nin's  mamma,  in  a  charminit  postscript,  says: 
"Yiil'M.  I'KOPI.K  is  a  most  delightful  jiaper,  and 
has  earned  the  thanks  of  every  mother  in  the 

land  for  the  g 1  and  useful  reading.'  it  furnishes 

both  children  and  parents.     May  it  flourish      -he 
adds.  "  while  there  arc  children  to  read  it  !" 


F.MSWMRTll,    PusssvlViSIA. 

I  am  a  little  itirl  eiitht  years  old.  1  have  u  beau- 
tiful home  in  the  country,  eight  miles  from  .Vtte- 
(Tlieny  city,  "ii  the  uliio  jjiver.  I  have  four  little 
sisters  younger t han  m\self.  hut  1  have  no  bro- 
ther- 'I  have  no  pel-  except  my  little  baby  sis 
ter  three  months  old  and  four  cats.  I  ha\c  a 
nl  doll  ;  I  call  her  Kdith  V\  6  had  HUM  ..m 

nicl mcnt    last    Thursday.      i>ur  scl I    is   not 

vcr\    lal'L'e  :  it   i-  a  private  sehool       \\  •-  all  sp,,Ke 
Mine  was  called  "  llcauliful  l.randmam- 

ma."    We  had  a  g I  many  visitors, and  we  had 

our  dinner  out   under  the  trees,  and  after  that 
music,  and  we  danced  and  had  nice  I  Ime 

until  eveiiiiin.  M  VK*    I  01  1-1    (I'N. 


N'ASHVII.LK,  TKNSJKR.SKK. 

I  am  a  (tirl  who  will  be  twelve  years  old  .m  the 
2.Vh  of  next  Aintust.  Mamma  is  without  help 
just  now.  and  I  as-ist  her.  The  other  day  she 
showed  me  how  to  make  liitht  bread,  and  to 
morrow  I  am  going  to  see  if  I  can  make  it  with- 
out any  help  at  all.  (In  last  Wednesday  I  made 
some  rice  cones  for  tea.  as  described  in  No.  1ST  of 
Yin  M.  I'Koi'i.K,  but  in  place  of  jelly  I  put  cream 
1'apa  ate  more  than  any  of  us:  he  likes  rice  and 
cream.  I  want  to  join  the  Housekeepers' Soci- 
ety. Our  schools  closed  yesterday.  I  was  not 
well  enouith  to  go  to  the  Anal  examination,  so  I 
will  have  to  be  examined  when  I  be(tin  next  year. 
I  have  two  sisters  and  one  brother,  all  youmrcr 
than  myself.  The  day  before  yesterday  a  play- 
mate and  myself  built  a  house  in  our  back  yard, 
and  we  have  a  sofa,  chair,  doll,  doll's  lied,  and  a 
table  and  some  shelves  in  it.  My  two  sisters 
have  fixed  up  the  servants"  house  for  their  play- 
room, and  we  go  to  visit  each  other. 

C.  BESSIE  W. 


LAFOURCHK  CRIISSINO,  LOL-ISIAVA. 

I  have  already  written  to  your  paper  several 
times,  and  every  week  when  I  receive  it  I  look 
to  see  if  my  letter  has  been  published,  but  until 
now  I  have  not  seen  one  of  them,  so  please  do 
me  the  favor  to  publish  this  one. 

I  have  two  pet  dogts :  one  is  a  rat-terrier,  and 
the  other  is  a  poodle  that  has  (Tone  blind  from 
old  age,  as  he  is  twelve  years  old.  I  have  also 
three  pet  kittens :  their  names  are  Beauty,  Twi- 
light, and  Tommy.  I  like  your  paper  very  much. 
I  liked  "  Nan"  the  best  of  all  the  stories.  I  know 


I  have  never  written  you  :i  letter.  SO  I  thought 
if  yon   would   L'ivc  a  little  girl  a    small  place     a 

ill     > '     l'os|    ,  .Miee     Ii,  ix.    she 

would  take  ii  ver\  readily,    when  papa  cornea 

in  the  house  on  \\ednesday  I  always  ask  him  if 
,11  IIIPI  fl'S  ">  "I  X"  I'l  ol'l  1  ha-  roll,"  So  \oii 
see  I  ha\c  taken  a  place  in  your  paper  whether 
you  have  asked  or  not  I  L'O  to  Louisville  to 
school,  though  I  do  live  in  Indiana  We  live  on 
the  river  hank,  or  al  least  very  near  it.  I  was  at 
school  when  [he  ll 1  in'. I  ,  air.<  ,  lull  papa  came 

after  me  when  it  was  at  Its  highest,    it  was  just 

within  four  inches  of  coming  in  at  our  front 
door,  1  was  in  New  York  last  summer  a  year 
ait'i  I  did  not  know  you  then  :  if  I  had.  I  would 

slll-clv    ha\"    stopped     to    see    \oll          I    Wall!     10    See 

.  :ir  I'osiniislrcss      Will  she  please  tell  me 

what  would  be  a  pretty  name  for  a  doll!    l  must 

stop  now.  as   1   am  alraid    n:>    idler  will  not    be 

puiili-hcd.  KATIE^H. 

How  would  you  like  Jessica? 


I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  live  on  a  large  place 
here  in  \\~csl  ern  l'"inis\  l\  ailia  I  ha  ve  a  cat  called 
Tabby  that  has  tour  dear  little  kittens,  of  which 
I  am  \"i-\  fond  Last  winter  we  went  South, 
and  we  ail  mamma,  papa,  my  bri  >!  her  Fred,  and 
I  enjoyed  tin1  trip  very  much.  When  we  came 
home  we  had  a  big  box  of  curiosities,  a  little 
alligator,  and  a  little  terrapin.  Can  any  of  the 
readers  of  Yot'Mi  I'KOPI.K  tell  me  what  terrapins 
eat  '•  The  poor  little  alligator  is  dead.  I  have  a 
garden  which  1  take  care  of  myself,  I  have  pan- 
Mies  verbenas,  lady's  slippers,  and  geranium.  I 
liked  "  Nan.'  and  I  like  "  Raising  the  '  Pearl.'" 

SADIK  S. 


ETNA,  PKNNSVLVAXIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nearly  twelve  years  old.  I 
have  two  i, id  Scabright  bantams  and  five  young 
ones.  Tlie  old  ones  I  bought  at  the  Exposition. 
I  am  going  to  give  my  cousin  Sadie  one,  and  she 
is  going  to  give  me  one  of  her  little  kittens.  I 
like1-  Raising  the 'Pearl'"  and  "Nan"  very  much. 
I  am  spending  the  day  with  Sadie  S.  We  have 
been  wishing  to  write  a  letter  to  HARPER'S  YHCM: 
I'KOPI.F.  for  some  time,  so  we  thought  this  was  a 
good  opportunity.  MAUY  I.  L. 

CADILLAC,  MICHIGAN. 

I  was  six  years  old  on  the  5th  of  June.  Papa 
and  mamma'  and  I  went  to  Traverse  City  on  that 
day.  and  returned  the  next.  I  sat  at  the  window 
in  the  hotel  that  evening  and  watched  the  big 
steamer  coming  over  Traverse  Bay  from  Petos- 
key  Some  boys  were  playing  foot-ball  on  the 
street  in  front  of  the  hotel ;  if  was  such  fun  to 
watch  them. 

I  have  a  little  dog  for  a  pet :  he  weighed  two 
pounds  and  one  ounce  about  three  weeks  ago  ; 
lie  was  five  months  old  then.  I  found  nearly  a 
gobletful  of  four  and  five  leaved  clovers  to-day. 
1  do  not  go  to  school  now.  I  went  to  Kindergar- 
ten last  summer.  We  haven't  any  Kindergarten 
now:  our  teacher  is  married.  I  have  a  little 
friend  who  is  iust  the  same  age  that  I  am.  My 
mamma  thought  it  would  be  pleasant  for  us  to 
celebrate  our  birthdays  together,  but  some  of 


our  little  friends  were  sick,  and  could  not  at 
lend,  so  w  e  didn't  have  any  birthday  party  at  all. 
ADA  E. 'N.  II. 

liosc  Vi. :  I  am  sorry  that  your  exchange  is  not 
in  a,  col-dance  with  our  rules.  The  numbers  of 
\oi\,.  PKOPI.F.  containing  the  story  of  "Mr. 
Stubbs's  Brother"  will  be  sent  to  you  by  Messrs 
Harper  \-  Brothers  on  receipt  of  $1  00.  For  the 
same  amount  you  may  buy  the  story  in  a  dainty 
volume  by  itself.  -  Kntie  D. :  I  hope  you  will  suc- 
ceed with  the  Nautilus,  and  be  quite  pleased 
with  your  dollic  in  the  new  costume.  A  great 
many  little  girls  are  thinking  of  trying  to  be 
dolls'  di  i  ssmakcrs  this  summer. -Minnie  B.  M. : 
So  two  canaries,  "stupid  little  things."  and  a 
dog  of  high  dei;rcc,  whose  mother  took  a  prize 
at  the  Paris  Kxhibition.  constitute  your  family 
of  pets?  I  should  have  rejoiced  to  have  had 
both  rats  chloroformed,  had  I  been  you.  instead 
of  only  one  Their  being  Chinese  rats  would 
have  given  them  no  favor  in  my  eyes.  I  hope 
w  In  n  you  become  a  Vassar  girl  you  will  still  cmi 
tinue  fond  of  the  Post  office  Box.  and  as  full  of 
fun  as  at  present.  Your  doll  pattern  has  been 
s,  nl  as  re, misted,  l.or»  A.  S. :  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  joii  are  discouraged  about  your  ex- 
ehaiiL'cs  It  Is  (////,/?/>•  best  to  write  in  advance 
and  receive  a  reply  before  sending  any  article. 
Thanks  for  your  receipts,  which  appear  else 
\\  hi  TI  Friink  I).:  I  am  sorry  your  bird  died. 

(icurirt1  II.  :  II  is  a  great  pits  to  be  sick  in  vaca- 
tion, and  1  sympathi/e  with  you  in  the  trial. 
Perhaps  by  this  time  yon  arc  well  again,  K/ril 
!>.!>.:  You  arc  a  little  chemist.  If  vm  I  ry  any 
mi  ire  experiments,  send  me  word.  Perhaps  sonic 

of  the  ol  I  id-  liojs  would  like  tod  isMihe  ten  cents' 

worth  of  blue  stone  iii  one  half -pint  of  rain-water, 
makiiij  the  solution  in  a  stone  jar?  Then  they 
miisi  drop  some  common  nails  into  this  jar.  and 
Ii  a\  c  it  lor  t  hrce  days,  al'tcr\\  hicli  they  may  take  a 
peep  to  sec  what  cha nge  t  he  nails  have  undergone. 


IT/7.1. KS   FIIUM  Yol'Nti   Cl  iNTKMirTOKS. 

No.  1. 
QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  part  of  an  army  is  generally  at  the  end 
of  a  train? 

•_',  Which  two  letters  of  the  alphabet  arc  verbs? 
WILLIAM  (i.  TKAOJ-.UK. 


No.  ^. 

TWO  EAST   DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  consonant,    a.  A  cover.    3.  An  animal. 
4.  A  river  in  Russia.     5.  A  consonant. 

EUREKA. 

•-'.—1.  A  consonant.   2.  An  animal.   3.  An  article 
of  daily  convenience.    4.  To  obtain.    5.  in  pencil. 
WILLIAM  (i.  TKAIJUAIK. 


No.  3. 

ENIGMA. 

My  first  is  in  dark,  but  not  in  light. 
My  second  is  in  look,  but  not  in  sight. 
My  third  is  in  stand,  but  not  in  poise. 
My  fourth  is  in  quiet,  but  not  in  noise. 
My  fifth  is  in  Hugh,  but  not  in  Fred. 
My  sixth  is  in  live,  but  not  in  dead. 
My  siM-nih  is  in  lynx,  but  not  in  bear. 
My  eighth  is  in  wolf,  but  not  in  hare. 
My  ninth  is  in  strife,  but  not  in  war. 
.My  tenth  is  in  justice,  but  not  in  law. 
My  whole  is  a  tale  of  a  gallant  knight 
Whose  freaks  and  adventures  area  source  of  de- 
light. Ei  I:EKA. 

No.  4. 

WORD   SQUARE. 

1.  A  fossil  stone.    2.  A  suitor.    3.  A  town  in  Il- 
linois     I.  Watches.    3.  To  obliterate. 

J.  K.  SEI.IJI. 


ANSWKRS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  191, 


No.1. 
No.  3. 


No.  3. 


Hercules. 
NIGHT 
IDLER 
C  L  A  D  E 
H  K  D  G  E 
TREES 
Telegraphs.  Potentates. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  T  II.  M.,  Lucy  Ainslie.  Charles  E.  and  Ar- 
thur H.  Timmerman.  G.  Hardin.  Grace  Curry,  Ma- 
mie Wilcox.  Ida  Emma  Heimembourg,  Charles  L. 
Holt,  L.  Stiirrctt,  Eureka.  Alice  Hull,  Emma  Bas- 
eom  John  I'd!/,  Sherman  Dana,  Caspar  W.,  Do- 
sia  Harwell.  Lulu  P.eattie.  Francis  Green.  Tom 
Maxwell  Nelson  Dodd.  Ellis  (J.,  G.  Toplitz,  Ber- 
tha Sykcs,  Eddie  H.,  Lily  H.  Wood,  and  B.J.  Lautz. 


[For  Ej-chanyes,  see  id  and  Zd  pages  of  cover.'] 


592 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  iv. 


' 


SOME    ANSWERS    TO    WIGGLES    Nos.  33   AND   33,   AND    NEW    WIGGLE,  No.  34. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AMI1  ILLUSTRATED  ,,WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  1S5. 


PUBLISHED  uv  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  July  24,  1883. 


,  by  H*KPKR  it  BBOTUKBS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


PRINCE    LAZYBONES    TAKING    HIS    EASE. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  PEINCE  LAZYBONES. 

BY     MK.S.    W.    J.    HAYS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "PRINCESS  IDLEWAYS,"  "PuiL's  FAIIUES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  I. 

all  the  illustrious  families  who  have  shone 
like  gems  upon  the  earth's  surface  none  have 
been  more  distinguished  in  their  way  than 
the  Lazybones  family,  and  were  I  so  disposed 
I  might  recount  their  virtues  and  trace  their 
talents  from  a  long-forgotten  period;  but  in- 
teresting as  the  study  might  prove,  it  would  be  a  dillicult 


task,  and  the  attention  I  crave  for  Prince  Leo  would  be 
spent  on  his  ancestors. 

Of  princely  blood  and  proud  birth,  Leo  was  a  youth 
most  simple-minded.  He  knew  that  much  was  expected  of 
him,  and  that  he  was  destined  to  rule,  yet  so  easily  was 
he  satisfied  that  his  greatest  happiness  was  to  lie  all  day 
basking  in  the  sun  or  dawdling  through  his  father's  park 
with  his  dog  at  his  heels,  the  heels  themselves  in  a  very 
down-trodden  state  of  humility,  watching  with  languid 
gaze  the  movements  of  the  world  about  him. 

And  the  world  just  where  he  lived  was  very  beautiful. 
On  a  fertile  plain,  surrounded  by  mountain-peaks  of  great 
height,  threaded  by  silver  streams,  and  so  well  watered 


59i 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


that  its  vegetation  was  almost  tropical,  was  the  estate  of 
Leo's  father,  Prince  Morpheus  Lazybones.  It  had  been 
in  the  family  for  ages,  and  was  so  rich  in  timber  anil 
mineral  resources  that  none  of  its  owners  had  cared  to 
cultivate  the  land.  Timber  was  cut  sparingly,  however, 
because  thf  market  for  it  was  too  distant,  and  the  min- 
erals remained  in  their  native  beds  for  much  tin'  same 
reason. 

The  family  throve,  notwithstanding,  and  were  well  sup- 
plied with  all  manner  of  delicacies,  for  the  servants  were 
many,  and  there  was  never  a  lack  of  corn  or  wine. 

Leo  was  most  fair  to  see.  To  be  sui-e,  his  drooping  lids 
half  concealed  his  azure  eyes,  and  his  golden  locks  some- 
times hid  his  snowy  forehead;  but  his  smile  was  charm- 
ing; his  face  had  such  an  expression  of  calm  satisfaction, 
such  a  patient  tranquillity,  that  his  smile  was  as  the  sud- 
den sunshine  on  a  placid  lake.  It  was  the  smile  of  the 
family,  an  inherited  feature,  like  the  blue  blood  of  a  Span- 
ish Don.  And  then  it  was  given  so  freely;  the  beggar 
would  have  preferred  it  to  be  accompanied  with  the  jingle 
of  a  coin,  but  as  the  coin  never  came  and  the  smile  did,  he 
tried  to  think  that  it  warmed  his  heart,  though  his  wallet 
went  empty. 

There  were  those  who  said  a  smile  cost  nothing,  else  it 
would  not  have  been  bestowed.  It  had  a  peculiarity  of 
its  own  which  these  same  critics  also  objected  to — it  nearly 
always  ended  in  a  yawn. 

But  Leo  heard  none  of  these  ill-natured  remarks,  and  if 
he  had  would  not  have  minded  them  any  more  than  he 
did  the  burrs  which  clung  to  his  garments  as  he  rambled 
through  the  woods.  Poor  fellow!  he  would  gladly  have 
shared  his  coppers  with  a  beggar,  hut  he  had  none  to 
share. 

Morpheus  Lazybones  never  seemed  to  think  his  son  re- 
quired anything;  so  long  as  the  boy  made  no  demands, 
surely  nothing  could  be  wanting,  and  every  one  knew  he 
was  not  equal  to  any  exertion.  For  years  he  had  lived 
the  life  of  an  invalid,  shut  up  in  his  room  most  of  the 
time,  venturing-  from  it  only  in  the  sunniest  weather,  and 
then  with  great  caution.  He  had  no  particular  malady 
except  that  he  was  a  poet,  but  surely  that  was  burden 
enough.  To  have  to  endure  the  common  sights  and 
sounds  of  this  earth  when  one  is  composing  poetry  is  in- 
deed a  trying  and  troublesome  thing.  So  Morpheus  found 
it,  and  therefore  he  frequently  staid  in  bed,  and  allowed 
his  fancy  to  rove  at  its  own  sweet  will. 

They  lived  in  what  had  been  a  monastery.  There  had 
been  houses  and  farms  on  the  Lazybones  property,  but  the 
money  not  being  forth-coming  for  repairs,  they  had  been 
each  in  turn  left  for  another  in  better  condition,  until  the 
monastery,  what  was  left  of  it,  with  its  solidly  built  walls, 
offered  what  seemed  to  be  a  permanent  home. 

Here  Morpheus  lined  a  cell  with  tapestries  and  books, 
and  wrote  his  sonnets.  Here  Leo  slept  and  ate,  and  housed 
his  dogs.  The  servants  grumbled  at  the  damp  and  mould, 
but  made  the  chimneys  roar  with  blazing  logs,  and  held 
many  a  merry  carousal  where  the  old  monks  kad  prayed 
and  fasted.  The  more  devout  ones  rebuked  these  proceed- 
ings, and  said  they  were  enough  to  provoke  a  visit  t'n>m 
the  Evil  One ;  but  as  yet  the  warning  had  no  effect,  as  the 
revels  went  on  as  visual. 

Besides  being  a  poet,  Morpheus  was  conducting  Leo's 
education.  Undertaken  in  the  common  way,  this  might 
have  interfered  with  the  delicate  modes  of  thought  re- 
quired for  the  production  of  poems,  but  the  Lazyboneses 
were  never  without  ingenuity.  Morpheus  so  arranged 
matters  that  Leo  could  study  without  damage  to  his  fa- 
ther's poems.  The  books  were  marked  for  a  month's 
study,  and  Leo's  recitations  consisted  of  a  written  essay 
which  was  to  comprise  all  the  knowledge  acquired  in  that 
time.  Thus  writing  and  spelling  were  included,  and  made 
to  do  duty  for  the  higher  nights  of  his  mind. 

I  do  not  tell  how  often  Leo  made  his  returns,  neither 


do  I  mention  how  many  papers  Morpheus  found  no  time 
to  examine,  but  I  may  urge  that  Leo's  out-door  exercise  de- 
manded much  attention,  and  that  his  father's  excursions 
in  Dream-land  were  equally  exacting.  But  Leo,  though 
lie  hated  books,  did  not  hate  information.  He  knew 
every  feathered  thing  by  name  as  far  as  he  could  see  it.  • 
He  knew  every  oak  and  pine  and  fir  and  nut  tree  as  a  fa- 
miliar friend.  He  knew  every  rivulet,  every  ravine,  ev- 
ery rabbit  burrow.  The  streams  seemed  to  him  as  melo- 
dious as  the  song-birds,  and  the  winds  had  voices.  He 
knew  where  to  find  the  first  blossom  of  spring  and  the 
latest  of  autumn,  the  ripest  fruit  and  most  abundant  vines. 
He  could  tell  just  where  the  nests  were  and  the  number 
of  eggs,  whether  of  the  robin  or  the  water-fowl.  He  knew 
the  sunniest  bank  and  shadiest  dell,  the  smoothest  path, 
with  its  carpet  of  pine-needles  and  fringe  of  fern,  or  the 
roughest  crag  and  darkest  abyss.  He  could  read  the 
clouds  like  an  open  page,  and  predict  fine  weather  or  the 
coming  storm.  He  knew  where  the  deer  couched  and 
where  they  came  to  drink,  and  when  the  fawns  would 
leave  their  mothers,  and  no  trout  was  too  cunning  for  him. 

But  he  did  not  know  the  use  of  a  rifle.  He  had  all 
sorts  of  lures  for  the  creatures  he  wanted  to  tame,  but 
no  ways  of  killing  them.  For  why  should  he  kill  them  ? 
There  was  always  food  enough;  he  was  seldom  hungry, 
and  these  were  his  friends.  He  liked  to  look  them  in  the 
eyes;  he  liked  to  win  them  to  him,  soothe  their  fears  if 
they  had  any,  and  then  watch  their  pretty  joy  when  their 
liberty  was  regained.  And  how  could  he  have  done  this 
if  their  blood  had  been  upon  his  hands  ?  How  could  he 
have  quieted  the  throbbing  little  hearts  if  murder  had 
been  in  his  own  ? 

Thus  Leo  spent  his  time,  delightfully  and  innocently. 
If  life  were  only  a  summer's  day!  But  already  winter 
was  approaching.  Discontent  was  brewing  on  the  estate. 
Taxes  were  unpaid ;  tenants  were  grumbling  at  high  rents ; 
laborers  were  threatening  and  their  wives  complaining. 

Frequently,  in  the  very  midst  of  composing  a  poem, 
Morpheus  would  be  called  to  adjust  a  difficulty,  settle  a 
dispute,  or  revise  an  account.  This  so  disturbed  his  deli- 
cate nerves  that  illness,  or  the  appearance  of  it,  was  sure 
to  follow.  He  would  then  take  to  his  bed,  refuse  all  but 
a  little  spiced  wine,  allowing  no  coarse  food  to  pass  his 
lips,  and  strive  to  remember  the  beautiful  words  of  which 
he  had  intended  to  make  verses;  but,  alas!  the  words  had 
flown,  as  well  as  the  ideas  which  had  suggested  them,  like 
so  many  giddy  little  butterflies. 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE  monastery  had  been  a  grand  old  pile  in  its  day;  it 
was  not  one  simple  building,  but  a  cluster  of  habitations 
which  had  grown  with  the  growth  and  resources  of  the 
order  which  founded  it.  Like  all  feudal  structures  it  had 
its  means  of  defense — its  moat  and  draw-bridge,  its  tower 
of  observation,  and  in  its  heavy  gates  and  thick  walls  loop- 
holes and  embrasures  for  weapons. 

But  grass  grew  now  in  the  moat  and  birds  nested  in  the 
embrasures,  while  Leo's  dogs  bounded  through  chapel  and 
refectory  and  cloister,  parts  of  the  latter  being  converted 
into  a  stable. 

Many  of  the  walls  had  tumbled  in  hopeless  confusion, 
but  those  of  the  buildings  yet  in  use  had  carved  but  In  >ses 
and  mullioned  windows,  on  which  much  skill  had  1  'en 
displayed. 

Leo  knew,  or  thought  he  knew,  every  nook  and  cranny 
of  his  home,  for  when  it  rained,  or  heavy  fogs  hung  th  real - 
eningly  about,  his  rambles  were  confined  to  the  various 
quarters  of  the  monastery. 

On  such  days  the  stone  floors  and  bare  walls  were  very 
inhospitable,  but  he  would  sometimes  find  a  new  passage- 
to  loiter  in  or  a  window-ledge  to  loll  over  and  look  from 
as  he  watched  the  rain  drip  from  the  carved  nose  of  an 
ugly  old  monk  \\lmse  head  adorned  the  water-spout. 


JULY  24,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


595 


I  don't  know  whether  it  ever  occurred  to  Leo  that  this 
world  is  a,  busy  one.  The  very  persistence  of  the  pouring 
rain  might  have  suggested  it,  as  well  as  the  bee-hives  down 
in  tin-  kitchen  court,  where  some  of  his  many  friends  were 
storing  their  winter  provision,  for  bees  as  uell  as  birds 
were  Familiar  to  him;  but  he  had  the  true  La/.ybones  in 
stinrt  of  not  following  a  thought  too  far,  and  so  he  looked 
and  lolled  and  yawned,  wishing  fur  line  weather,  for  a 
new  lining  to  his  ragged  old  coat,  or  soles  to  his  slipshod 
sin  pes.  but  never  once  supposing  that  any  effort  of  his  own 
could  gain  them. 

When  it  was  cold  the  kitchen  was  apt  to  be  his  resort. 
It.  was  a  long  and  low  apartment  on  the  ground-floor,  and 
its  wide  fire-place,  with  stone  settle  beside  the  hooks  ami 
cranes  for  pots  and  kettles,  had  doubtless  been  as  cheery  a 
corner  for  the  old  monks  to  warm  their  toes  after  a  for- 
aging expedition  as  it  was  for  Leo,  who  liked  to  smell  the 
savory  stews. 

On  the  day  of  which  I  write  the  rain  had  fallen  inces 
santly,  and  Leo  had  been  more  than  usually  disturbed  by 
it.  for  cold  and  dreary  though  it  was.  (lie  servants  had 
turned  him  out  of  the  kitchen.  They  would  not  have 
him  t  here. 

"  Idle,  worthless  fellow  !"  said  the  cook  :  "  lie  lolls  about 
here  as  a  spy  upon  us,  to  repeat  to  the  master  every  word 
lie  hears." 

This  was  quite  untrue  and  unjust,  for  I.eo  rarely  con 
versed  with  his  father,  and  seldom  saw  him  when  Mor- 
pheus took  his  meals  as  well  as  hi-,  u  oes  IIP  bed  with  him. 
as  lie  bad  done  at  the  present  moment. 

I'.nt  the  household  was  in  revolt;  the  uneasiness  from 
outside  had  crept  within,  and  there  was  quarrelling  amoiiir 
the  servants. 

"  What  shall  I  do  .'"  said  I.eo  to  himself.  "The  rain  is 
too  heavy,  or  I  would  go  out  in  it  ;  but  I  have  no  place  IIP 
get  dry  when  I  become  soaked,  and  1  can't  go  to  bed  in 
the  daytime,  as  my  father  does.  1  wonder  what  he'd  say 
if  I  went  to  him  !  Probably  this:  'You  have  given  wings 
to  the  finest  of  rhymes,  and  spoiled  the  turn  of  an  e\c|iii 
site  verse;  now,  sir,  what  atonement  can  you  make  for  so 
yreat  an  injury1;  It's  the  world's  loss,  remember.'  That's 
the  way  it  always  is  when  I  disturb  him.  Heigh-ho  ! 
what  a  dull  day  !" 

"  A  very  dull  day  indeed,  your  highness." 

Leo  started,  his  yawn  ending  abruptly,  and  he  turned 
more  quickly  than  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life  toward 
the  sound  which  saluted  him.  Surely  IK;  had  been  alone. 
Who  ever  came  to  this  corridor?  He  looked  up  and  down 
its  dingy  length,  but  saw  no  one.  He  must  have  been 
mistaken.  Then  he  listened.  The  wind  swept  wailing 
through  its  accustomed  approaches;  shutters  and  windows 
shook  with  the  blast,  but  no  foot-fall  was  to  be  heard.  He 
turned  to  the  diamond-paned  lattice,  and  again  watched 
the  drops  trickling  from  the  nose  of  the  water-spout.  No 
one  had  spoken.  Again  he  yawned  prodigiously,  but 
brought  his  jaws  together  with  a  snap  which  might  have 
damaged  his  teeth ;  for,  to  his  great  surprise,  a  voice  said, 

"  I  think  I  could  amuse  you.'' 

' '  A7id  pray  who  are  you  ;"  asked  Leo,  feeling  very  queer, 
and  as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself. 

"That  is  of  little  consequence,  so  long  as  I  do  what  I 
h:'Y'>  proposed,'1  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  true,"  said  Leo;  "  but  I  never  before  heard  of  a 
ghost  in  the  daytime." 

"  I  am  no  ghost,  your  highness;  I'd  scorn  to  be  such  a 
useless  thing.'' 

"  \Vhat  are  you,  then,  and  where  are  you  ?" 

"  You  will  find  out  what  I  am  after  a  while;  and  as  to 
where  I  am,  why,  I  am  here  beside  you.  Do  you  suppose 
you  human  beings  have  all  the  world  to  yourselves  if" 

"Not  quite,  to  be  sure;  the  birds  and  beasts  have  their 
share.  But  one  can  see  them." 

"So  could  you  see  me  if  your  vision  were  not  imper- 


fect. How  about  all  the  living  things  you  swallow  every 
time  you  drink?" 

"I  have  heard  of  something  of  the  kind,  but  it  was  too 
much  trouble  to  understand  it." 

"Poor  boy  I  It's  a  pity  some  old  ghost  of  a  monk  could 
not  interest  himself  in  your  education  ;  but,  as  I  said  be- 
fore, ghosts  are  absurdly  useless,  except  to  scare  people 
\\  hose  consciences  are  bad.  and  nothing  more  is  needed  to 
make  me  doubt  their  existence  than  the  fact  of  your  living 
here  in  what  should  be  their  stronghold,  and  they  never 
raise  baud  or  foot  to  help  you.  It's  quite  in  keeping  with 
their  ridiculous  pretensions.  Believe  in  ghosts;  No,  I 
never  did.  and  I  never  will." 

The  voice,  small  and  weak  though  it  was,  grew  quite 
angry  in  tone,  and  it  seemed  to  Leo  as  if  it  were  accom- 
panied by  the  stain])  of  a  foot;  but  he  saw  nothing,  not  so 
much  as  a  spider  crawling  over  the  stone  corridor. 

It  was  very  peculiar.  He  pinched  himself  to  see  if  he 
was  awake.  Yes.  wide  awake,  no  doubt  of  that;  besides, 
lie  seldom  dreamed — indeed,  never,  unless  his  foot  had 

slipped  in  climbing  a  crag  to  ] p  into  a  nest,  when  the 

fall  was  sometimes  repeated  in  his  sleep.  Who  was  this 
speaking  to  him  ;  As  if  in  answer  to  his  thoughts,  the 
voice  went  on  : 

"So  far  from  being  a  good -for  nothing  old  ghost,  I  am 
one  (pf  the  founders  of  the  S.  P.  C.  C.,  a  very  old  society — 
much  older  than  people  of  the  present  day  imagine." 

Leo  was  quite  ashamed  to  be  so  ignorant,  but  he  ven- 
tured to  ask. 

••What  is  the  S.  I'.  C.  C.  '." 

"  Is  it  ]  possible  \  nil  have  I  lever  heard  of  it  ;" 

"  Never."  replied   Leo,  still  feeling  as  if  he  were  talking 

to  the  walls. 

There  \\  as  a  queer  little  gurgling  "  Ha  !  ha  !"  which  was 

at  once  suppressed. 

"Well,  hou  could  you  know  away  off  in  this  remote 
region  ;" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  understand  you  at  all,"  said  Leo. 

"  No,  1  see  you  don't;  and  it's  by  no  means  remarkable. 
You  live  so  entirely  alone,  and  are  so  wretchedly  neg- 
lected, that  it  is  a  wonder  you  know  anything." 

I.eo  began  to  be  angry,  but  it  was  too  much  of  an  effort; 
besides,  what  was  there  to  be  angry  at — a  voice?  So  he 
remained  sulkily  silent  until  the  voice  resumed,  ill  a 
changed  tone: 

"  I  beg  your  highness's  pardon;  I  quite  forgot  myself. 
I  am  very  apt  to  do  that  when  I  am  much  interested ;  it  is 
a  great  fault,  for  I  appreciate  fine  manners.  But  to  ex- 
plain. In  the  far-away  cities  where  people  live  like  ants 
in  an  ant-hill,  all  crowded  together,  there  is  often  much 
cruelty  and  oppression,  as  well  as  vice  and  poverty.  Now 
for  this  state  of  things  they  have  laws  and  punishments, 
means  of  redress  ;  but  they  relate  principally  to  grown 
people's  affairs,  so  the  kind  -  hearted  ones,  noticing  that 
little  children  are  often  in  need  of  pity  and  care  and  pro- 
tection, have  an  association  called  the  Society  for  the  Pre- 
vention of  Cruelty  to  Children.  It  is  as  old  as  the  hills, 
but  they  think  it  a  modern  invention.  I  am  one  of  the 
original  founders  of  that  society,  little  as  they  know  me; 
but.  human  beings  are  so  vain." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Leo,  lazily;  he  was  already  tired  of  the 
whole  matter. 

•'  Yes,  vain  and  pretentious.  Look  at  your  father  and 
his  poems;  he  thinks  his  doggerel  verses  a  mark  of  genius." 

' '  What  has  my  father  done  to  you  that  you  attack  him 
so  rudely  ?"  asked  Leo,  angrily. 

"  Ah!  you  are  aroused  at  last.  I  am  glad.  What  has 
your  father  not  done,  you  had  better  ask.  But  I  acknow- 
ledge that  I  am  rude,  and  I  won't  say  more  than  just  this: 
Your  father  has  failed  to  prepare  you  for  your  duties. 
Trouble  is  coming,  and  how  are  you  to  meet  it  ?" 

"  Don't  know,  and  don't  care,"  came  out  with  character- 
istic Lazybones  indifference. 


596 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"Ah!  my  dear  Prince,  do  not  speak  so;  it  is  quite  time 
you  knew  and  cared.  Do  you  study  geography  ?" 

"Sometimes." 

"  All  surface  work,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Probably.'' 

"  Now  my  plan  of  study  comprehends  an  interior  view 
of  the  earth's  formation." 

Leo  gave  a  tremendous  yawn,  and  said, 

"Oh,  please  don't  bother  any  more;  I  am  awfully 
tired." 

"  So  I  should  think.    Well,  do  you  want  to  be  amused  ?" 

"No;  I  don't  want  anything." 


"  Come  with  me,  then." 

"Where?" 

"  No  matter  where;  just  do  as  I  bid  you." 

"  How  can  I,  when  I  don't  even  see  you  ?" 

' '  True.  It  will  be  necessary  to  anoint  your  eyes ;  shall 
I  do  it  ?" 

"Just  as  you  please." 

Leo  felt  a  little  pressure  forcing  down  his  eyelids,  and 
the  pouring  of  a  drop  of  cool  liquid  on  each. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes  again  there-  stood  before  him 
the  quaintest,  queerest  being  he  had  ever  beheld. 

[TO   UK   CONTINUED.] 


\\\    \   '       i///,/ 1,1'       s  ^ — ~~ — — ^ -o  \      x 


^  i    lHysSss^sw 


'THERE'S    MERRY    LAUGHTER   IN    THE    FIELD,  AND    HARMLESS   JEST   AND    FROLIC    KOUT."— MARY  HOWITT. 


WATER-SPOUTS. 

BY    ARTHUR    LINDSLEY. 

"  rilHIS  morning  Mr.  Wilson  brought  a  newspaper  with 

J_  him  to  school,  and  read  to  us  an  item  in  it,  which  we 
wrote  down  in  our  note-books.  He  said  we  were  to  learn 
all  that  we  could  in  relation  to  it,  and  be  ready  to  re- 
peat what  we  had  learned  to  him  to-morrow.  I  wish  you 
would  explain  it  to  me,  Uncle  Arthur.  This  is  what  we 
wrote : 

"'The  brig  Starlight,  of  Bangor,  arrived  here  yester- 
day from  Cape  Haytien.  She  reports  that  while  she  was 
lying  becalmed  oft'  Hayti  a  water-spout  formed  near  her, 
which  she  burst  after  firing  several  shots.'  What  are 
water-spouts,  Uncle  Arthur?  How  do  they  look?  Did 
you  ever  see  one  ?  What  did  the  brig  fire  at  ?" 

"Well,  well,  Harry,  you  must  be  nearly  equal  to  the 
brig ;  you  have  fired  a  perfect  volley  of  questions  at  me. 
Which  shall  I  answer  iirst  ?  But  perhaps  I  can  answer 
them  all  in  one  by  telling  you  a  little  story  of  what  I  saw 
myself  once  in  the  Windward  Passage. 

"I  was  in  a  small  schooner  going  from  Kingston,  in 
Jamaica,  to  Turk's  Island  for  a  load  of  salt.  It  was  a  very 
dull,  heavy  day,  and  there  had  been  thunder  at  inter- 
vals all  the  morning,  but  no  squalls.  Cape  San  Nicolas 
was  about  ten  miles  north-northeast  from  us,  and  for  at 
least  two  hours  it  had  been  hidden  from  sight  by  a  mass 
of  black  clouds,  but  no  wind  had  come  from  them,  though 
the  lightning  and  thunder  had  occasionally  been  very 
violent. 

"Along  toward  noon  I  saw  that  something  was  going 
on  in  and  behind  that  black  screen  that  really  was  terrific. 
There  was  a  fearful  commotion.  It  was  not  only  the  flash 
and  roar,  but  the  boiling  of  the  clouds  themselves,  which 
attracted  my  attention.  They  were  whirling  at  an  aw- 
ful rate,  and  showed  that  some  force  was  driving  them, 
which,  if  it  struck  our  little  craft,  might  easily  send  us  to 
the  bottom  at  merely  a  moment's  warning;  and  what  made 
the  matter  worse,  they  seemed  to  be  plunging  straight 


toward  us,  and  were  already  within  about  a  mile  of  the 
schooner.  All  at  once  their  progress  was  checked;  they 
came  110  nearer,  but  began  to  whirl  about  just  where  they 
were." 

"What  was  that  for,  Uncle  Arthur?  What  stopped 
them  ?  The  water  was  all  open,  was  it  not  ?" 

"They  were  stopped,  I  have  no  doubt,  Harry,  by  the 
same  force  that  had  been  driving  them,  and  which  had 
been  making  all  the  uproar  and  commotion  of  the  light- 
ning and  thunder  and  the  wind." 

"  Why.  the  lightning  is  caused  by  electricitjr.  I  learn- 
ed that  a  long  time  ago." 

"Very  true;  you  learned  correctly.  And  I  believe  the 
water-spouts  are  caused  by  it  also;  they  are  electrical  phe- 
nomena. But  let  us  go  on  with  what  I  saw.  When  the 
clouds  stopped  in  their  progress,  the  noise  of  thunder  and 
of  wind  was  perfectly  awful.  I  could  see  that  the  sea  at 
that  spot,  for  a  diameter  of  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  was 
white  with  foam,  and  that  it  was  dashing  and  tearing 
about  with  dreadful  violence,  and  yet  it  did  not  advance. 
I  took  a  glass  to  watch  it,  and  then  I  could  see  that  it  was 
going  round  and  round  ;  it  was  whirling  about  one  cen- 
tral spot. 

"But  my  attention  was  drawn  away  from  the  water  to 
the  clouds  above.  They  had  settled  very  low,  and  had 
grown  black  almost  like  ink,  or  so  at  least  it  seemed  to 
me,  and  in  the  midst  of  this  blackness  they  were  also 
whirling  in  the  same  way  as  the  water,  and  what  was 
very  striking,  they  began  to  draw  down  right  over  the 
white  spot  of  the  waves.  While  I  watched  I  saw  the  black 
cloud  apparently  sucked  down  in  a  long,  dark,  conical, 
whirling  mass,  which  grew  smaller  as  it  stretched  and 
stretched  until  it  fairly  reached  the  white  water. 

"The  surface  of  the  foaming  and  boiling  sea  was  perhaps 
lifted  a  little,  though  I  think  that  was  probably  only  a  de- 
ception of  my  eyesight.  But  I  perfectly  well  recollect 
how  that  black  finger  of  cloud  went  wavering  and  twist- 
ing here  and  there  as  though  it  could  find  no  rest  for  it- 
self, which  doubtless  was  simply  the  fact.  It  reminded 


JULY  24,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


597 


me  of  a  gigantic  black  leech  poking  his  body  about,  hunt- 
ing for  a  place  at  which  to  take  hold  and  bite.  It  did  not 
rest  for  a  moment." 

''It  must  have  been  horrible  to  see." 

•'  ll  was  horrible,  ami  it  was  frightful  even  as  1  watch- 
ed it  in  its  formation.  lint  tlie  worst  of  it  was  yet  to 
come,  for  after  spinning  around  in  that  one  spot  for  a 
time  il  dare  say  it  was  only  one  or  two  minutes,  though 
il  Deemed  much  loniren  it  suddenly  started  to  move.  The 
whirling  did  not  slacken  in  its  violence,  but  the  entire 
process,  the  whirlwind,  bodily  beiran  to  advance,  at  first 

very  slowly,  hut  gradually  increasing  in  speed.  It  came 
direetlv  toward  us.  and  had  it  continued  in  that  direction 
nothing  could  have  saved  us  from  instant  destruction. 
But  when  within  less  than  half  a  mile  it  turned  abruptly 
to  the  south,  and  passed  us  at  a  distance  of  about  three 
hundred  yards  with  a  roar  and  a  dash  that  were  awful 
beyond  de^eript  ion.  1  houirh  the  wind,  even  at  that  little 
space  from  it.  was  not  snflicient  to  cause  u--  an\  trouble 
whatever." 

"What  bee; )  of  it.  I 'nele  Arthur  .'     Where  did  it  go 

"  It   went   ti>  jiii-i't-x.  Harry.       It  wore  itself  out.       Il   63 
pircd    by   its   own    violence,  or   rather   the    force    was    c\ 
hansted  by  which  it  had  been  caused.      When  it  had  pass 
ed    off    a    mile    and    more 
from    us   it   began   gradu- 
ally to  diminish  in   force. 
Then-      was      no     sudden 
change.   The  cone  of  cloud 

contracted  and  grew  short- 
er little  b\  little  nil  it  was 
gone,  and  presently  the 
cloud  itself  broke  up.  ami 
after  a  t  line  t  he  sun  came 
out  beautifully,  and  the 
remainder  of  the  day  was 
briirht  ami  clear." 

"Then  a  water- spout. 
Uncle  Arthur,  is  caused  by 
a  whirlwind  on  the  sea  ( 
But  how  does  electricity 
do  any  such  thing  :  You 
said  they  were  caused  by 
electricity.' 

"I  said  I  believed  so, 
for  I  think  there  are  many 
proofs  of  it,  though  we 
may  not  consider  it  cer- 
tain. As  to  the  manner 
in  which  the  electricity 
acts  we  can  not  yet  speak 
with  any  certainty.  We 
may  say  this,  however — it 
doubtless  produces  a  rush 
of  air  from  all  sides  to- 
ward one  point,  and  the 
currents  meeting  produce 
the  whirlwind." 

' '  But  why  does  not  elec- 
tricity, then,  do  the  same 
things  on  the  land  ?  I 
should  think  it  would.'1 

"You  are  very  right, 
Harry.  It  does  precisely 
the  same  thing,  though  of 
course  the  effects  are  dif- 
ferent, for  the  whirlwind 
must  pass  over  a  different 
surface.  There  c,aii  be  no 
water-spout  unless  there  is 
water  to  be  whirled.  But 
houses  and  trees  and  fences 
and  cattle  and  human  be- 


ings can  be  tossed  about  by  it  at  a  fearful  rate.  There  is 
never  a  summer  that  we  have  not  accounts  of  more  or  less 
of  such  events.  They  occur  in  various  parts  of  the  coun- 
try, though  they  are  more  common  oil  the  open  plains 
and  prairies  of  our  Western  States  than  elsewhere,  because 
tin'  surroundings  are  such  as  to  give  better  opportunity 
for  their  formation.  They  are  often  called  in  the  news- 
papers cyclones,  from  the(ireek  word  which  means  a  cir- 
cle. And  on  the  desert  plains  of  Nevada  and  Arizona 
and  Xew  Mexico  they  often  raise  the  sand  in  huge  col- 
umns uhich  go  marching  along  at  a  very  stately  pace. 
I  have  sometimes  seen  three  or  four  of  them  at  one  time 
within  a  few  mil.  ,  of  each  other,  each  being  from  one  to 
two  thousand  feet  in  height.  1  should  be  glad  to  tell  you 
about  them,  but  we  have  not  time  for  it  now." 

"  lint  why  did  they  lire  at  it,  and  what  good  did  it  do  '." 
"  It  is  the  common  belief  of  sailors  that  a  cannon  fired 
at  a  \\  ater  spout  will  break  it  down,  but  I  do  not  know  an  v 
evidence  that  the  idea  is  correct.  If  the  shots  are  fired  at 
t  he  I  imc  u  hen  the  whirlwind  is  about  to  come  to  an  end 
ihe\  uoiild  naturally  think  thai  their  shot  had  done  the 
work.  But  how  the  passage  of  a  shot  through  such  a 
slorm  as  a  waterspout  really  is  could  produce  any  effect. 
on  it  1  can  not  understand." 


FIRING   AT   A    WATER-SPOUT. 


598 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HAREBELLS. 

BY  SUSAN  HARTLEY  SWETT. 

DO  you  know  what  the  harebells  are 
That  hang-  from  the  rocks  by  the  sea. 
And  nod  to  the"  silver  call  of  the  wind 

And  the  drowsy  hum  of  ihe  bee  ''. 
Oh,  they  are  the 'bells  ihat   were  stolen  away 
From  fairy  steeples  one  summer  day. 

The  thief  was  a  spiteful  ell'. 

Who,  banished   from   Elrinland. 
Brought  them  with  him  into  the  earth. 

Anil  scattered  them  over  the  strand 
Where  a  little  beach  bird  was  telling  its  dream 
To  a  sand-flower  pink  and  a  gay  sunbeam. 

Then  the  little  bird  straightway  flew 

To  Elrland  and  told  Ihe  queen, 
Who  sailed  that  way  on  a  dragon-fly, 

And,  lifting  her  wand  of  urecii. 
Touched  the"  bright  bells  that  told  the  hours 
Until  they  were  only  some  pretty  flowers. 

There  was  no  soft  greensward  there 

By  the  great  blue  billowy  sea, 
So  she  hung  them  by  a  light  green  thread 

To  the  rocks  and  moss  Uifts  wee. 
Where  the  tirst  soft  kiss  of  the  evening  dew 
Changed  them  from  silver  to  deepest  blue. 

But  though  they  are  only  (lowers. 

If  you  softly  bend  your  ear 
Over  their  dainty  drooping  cups 

A  faint  sweet  "chime  you'll  hear. 
Swelling  and  dying  like  falling  showers: 
They  dream  they  are  still  in  the  fairy  towers. 


DICK  WENTWORTH'S  SWIM. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  A  BRAVE  BOY'S  DEED. 

BY  GEORGE  CARY  EUGLESTOX. 

I. 

DICK  WENTWORTH  was  the  poorest  youth  in  the 
university,  and  the  proudest.  Without  a  dollar  to 
begin  with,  and  without  any  kind  of  help,  lie  had  made 
his  way  through  the  first  two  years  of  his  college,  course, 
and  meant  to  make  his  way  to  the  end.  He  did  it  by 
"working  like  a  slave  and  living  like  a  pauper,''  as  he 
himself  said;  but  he  did  it  proudly,  with  his  head  erect. 
When  anything  like  help  was  offered  him,  he  refused  it 
almost  resentfully;  but  he  was  not  too  proud  to  earn 
money  by  sawing  wood  for  those  who  could  pay,  or  by 
doing  any  other  honest  work  for  wages ;  and  he  was  not 
too  proud  to  cook  his  own  food  and  wash  his  own  dishes. 

At  first  there  were  students  who  turned  up  their  noses 
at  Dick  Weiitworth,  and  called  him  a  pauper,  but  after 
a  while  even  they  began  to  see  that  while  Weiitworth 
was  as  poor  as  a  pauper  he  had  not  a  trace  of  the  pauper's 
spirit.  He  was  a  hard-working,  independent  gentleman, 
who  respected  himself  and  was  soon  respected  by  his  fel- 
low-studeiits. 

Still,  nobody  thought  much  about  him.  He  had  no  in- 
timate friends,  and  was  nobody's  hero.  He  was  the  best 
swimmer  in  the  university,  and  was  captain  of  the  stu- 
dents' life-saving  crew — to  which  the  government  had 
furnished  a  life-boat  for  use  on  the  lake — but  that  did 
not  count  for  much  in  college  life. 

II. 

There  was  a  hurried  running  through  the  college  at  day- 
break one  morning,  and  a  loud  knock  at  Wentworth's  door. 

"What's  up  ?"  he  asked,  leaping  out  of  bed. 

"Steamer  ashore!     We're  going  to  man  the  life-boat!" 

"I'll  be  with  you  in  half  a  minute,"  answered  Went- 
worth;  and  hastily  drawing  011  his  trousers  and  under- 
shirt, he  ran  toward  the  lake  shore,  where  all  the  students 
and  half  the  towns-people  were  gathered. 

The  scene  on  which  the  people  looked  was  appalling. 
A  large  passenger  steamer  lay  stranded  about  four  hun- 


dred yards  out,  and  the  sea  was  beating  her  to  pieces. 
Her  upper  works  were  already  a  mass  of  splinters,  and 
shattered  doors  and  bits  of  painted  bulk-heads  were  every 
minute  thrown  up  by  the  billows  at  the  very  feet  of  t he- 
people  on  shore,  telling  the  sad  story  of  what  was  happen- 
ing out  there  beyond  the  furious  surf.  The  pelting  rain 
and  the  driving  spray  nearly  hid  the  vessel  from  view, 
but  in  such  glimpses  as  were  to  be  had  of  it  the  people  on 
shore  could  see  the  passengers  and  crew  clinging  to  the 
wreck.  Fragments  washed  ashore  showed  plainly  enough 
that  the  ship's  boats  had  been  beaten  to  pieces,  probably 
in  the  attempt  to  launch  them,  and  the  whole  ship's  com- 
pany were  now  helplessly  awaiting  death. 

The  students  of  the  life-saving  crew,  with  Weiitworth 
at  their  head,  brought  their  life -boat  to  the  beach  and 
prepared  to  launch  it.  They  placed  themselves  in  two 
lines,  every  fellow  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  at  the  word 
pushed  the  boat  into  the  water.  The  bow  was  instantly 
swung  around  by  an  in-coming  wave,  and  the  boat  was 
driven  beamways  upon  the  shore. 

A  second  effort  was  made,  with  greater  care  and  a 
nicer  calculation  of  time  between  the  waves.  The  boat 
rose  upon  the  crest  of  the  billow,  and  the  young  athletes 
bent  to  their  oars;  but  the  water  was  too  strong  for  them. 
The  surf  tossed  the  boat  back  upon  the  beach,  capsizing 
it,  and  seriously  injuring  one  of  the  crew. 

"We  want  a  volunteer  to  take  Stokes's  place,''  cried 
Weiitworth,  whereupon  three  stalwart  young  fellows  of- 
fered themselves.  "I'll  take  you,  Mason,"  said  Went- 
worth  ;  "you're  the  best  oar.  Take  your  place." 

The  boat  was  righted,  and  a  third  attempt  to  launch  her 
was  made.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  that  this  time  suc- 
cess had  been  attained.  The  boat  rose,  upon  the  wave. 
and  two  vigorous  strokes  of  the  oars  carried  her  beyond 
the  curling  crest.  Then  an  oar  broke:  a  rower  fell  back- 
ward. There  was  a  moment's  pause  in  the  stroke,  and 
the  life-boat  was  dashed  upon  the  beach  by  the  angry  sea. 
This  time,  alas!  the  good  life-boat's  ribs  were  crushed  to  a 
shapeless  mass,  and  several  of  the  crew  were  stunned  l>y 
the  fall. 

A  murmur  of  terrified  despair  ran  through  the  crowd, 
which  now  included  every  man  and  woman  of  the  college 
town.  It  was  evident  to  all  that  nothing  more  could  be 
done.  Nothing  frailer  than  a  life-boat  could  live  for  a 
moment  in  such  a  sea,  and  there  was  now  no  life-boat  to 
be  had.  The  people  were  dumb  with  horror  as  they  real 
ized  that  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  stand  there  in  the 
pitiless  storm  and  wait  for  the  bodies  of  the  ship's  company 
to  come  ashore.  They  were  already  beginning  to  come,  in- 
deed. Two  men  and  one  woman — all  dead,  and  all  more 
or  less  bruised  and  broken — had  been  drawn  out  upon  I  lie 
sand.  These  were  the  first  swept  overboard,  but  others 
would  follow,  and  but  one  fate  awaited  all  that  company 
of  people  who  could  be  seen  clinging  to  the  ship,  unable 
to  help  themselves,  and  without  hope  of  help  from  others. 
"  Let  us  pray  !" 

It  was  the  college  President — a  venerable  man,  loved 
and  revered  throughout  the  town — who  spoke.  The  peo- 
ple knelt  at  once,  and  the  old  man  prayed  fervently,  with 
his  white  head  bared  to  the  storm.  As  he  ceased,  WTent- 
worth  approached  and  said  to  him, 

"Send  the  women  up  the  beach,  sir,  if  you  please." 
"Why,  Weiitworth  ?" 

"  Because  I  must  strip;  the  least  rag  of  clothing  may  be 
fatally  in  my  way." 

"  Why,  what  are  you  going  to  do,  my  boy  ?"  asked  the 
President,  in  astonishment. 

"  I'm  going  to  try  to  carry  a  line  to  the  steamer,"  said 
the  youth,  calmly. 

"  It  is  impossible ! — it  is  madness  to  try !"  exclaimed  the 
President. 

"So  it  is,"  said  an  old  fisherman  who  stood  by.  "  That 
sea  will  beat  you  to  a  jelly  in  two  minutes." 


.JI'LY    -I.  18S3. 


IIAHPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


599 


"  I  suppose  it  is  impossible."  replied  the  boy ;  "  but  I'm 
going  tu  try.  sir." 

Tlie  President  looked  into  the  youth's  face,  and  catching1 
something  of  the  enthusiasm  of  his  heroic  purpose,  laid  his 
hand  upon  YVentworlh's  head,  saying: 

"  When  (iod  Drives  it  to  you  to  attempt  such  a  service  to 
>our  fello\\ -men,  it  is  not  for  me  to  interfere.  May  lie 
strengthen  and  keep  you  !" 

WeJit  worth  bowed  his  head  to  receive  this  hencdici  n  .n. 
and  then  stripped  himself  at  mice,  while  the  people  looked 
on  in  awe  struck  admiration  of  such  heroism,  and  shud- 
dered at  the  thought  of  its  seemingly  certain  end.  The 
symmetry  of  the  youth's  person,  his  superb  beamy  of  be  id y. 
seemed  to  make  the  matter  worse:  for  was  it  not  a  spinal 
pity  that  a  youth  so  perfect  of  limb  and  so  full  of  life 
should  be  given  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  fury  of  the  storm  .' 

"Now,  then,  Thorpe,"  said  Wentworth.  after  tying  a 
slender  cord  about  his  body,  "  I  want  \oii  to  pay  this  out 
carefully.  Remember  that  a  single  ounce  of  unnecessary 
pulling  may  cost  all  these  people  their  lives." 

"  And  your  life  too,"  said  Thorpe. 

"  Yes,  1  suppose  so;  Imt  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that." 

After  jriviny  his  fellow-student  careful  directions  as  to 
the  management  of  the  line.  \Yentworth  stood  for  a  mo 
men!  eying  the  water.  Then  following  a  retreating 
wave,  he  plunged  head  lirst  into  the  wall  of  uatcr,  his 
])iir]iose  being  to  dive  under  the  wave,  and  come  to  the 
surface  be\  ond  the  break  of  the  surf. 

A  moment's  suspense  followed;  then  the  people  s.,u 
the  lad's  body  lifted  up  and  borne  in  on  the  crest  of  the 
wave.  lie  had  failed,  but  at  least  he  was  unhurt.  Tak- 
ing time  to  recover  breath,  he  plunged  in  again,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  bank  of  in  coming  water.  The  slow 
seconds  passed  with  no  sign.  Men  felt  t  heir  hearts  beat 
violently  as  they  waited.  The  wave  came  in  and  broke 
upon  the  beach,  but  still  the  diver  did  not  re-appear. 

"That  ended  him,  poor  fellow  !"  said  the  lisherman. 

"  No,  there  he  is!"  cried  Thorpe,  as  \Yeni\\orlir.s  head 
came  to  the  surface.  I'nfort  iinate] y  the  dive,  long  as  il 

was.  was  not  <mite  long  enough,  and  as  the  diver  came  up 
he  was  caught  by  the  next  wave  and  dashed  upon  the  beach. 

For  a  time  Went  worth  seemed  exhausted;  but  the 
breath  came  again,  and  looking  toward  a  lumber-yard 
near  at  hand,  he  bade  the  people  bring  lumber  and  make 
a  spring-hoard. 

"Put  it.  on  the  edge  of  the  bluff  down  then-  uhere  il 
overhauls  the  water — as  near  the  edge  as  possible." 

The  students  obeyed,  shuddering,  for  they  knew  that  to 
be  dashed  ashore  against  the  bluff  would  be  certain  death 
to  their  comrade. 

"He  can't  try  that  more  than  once,"  said  the  old  fisher- 
man ;  but  somehow  nobody  thought  it  worth  while  to  beg 
Wentworth  not  to  try  it  at  all.  There  was  a  resoluteness 
ill  his  look  which  made  them  feel  that  persuasion  would 
be  useless. 

When  the  spring-board  was  in  place  he  examined  it, 
and  then,  walking  back  a  dozen  yards,  ran  rapidly  up  the 
board,  made  a  great  leap  forward,  and  went  down  among 
the  waves.  There  were  seconds  of  breathless  waiting  and 
eager  scanning  of  the  water.  Then : 

"Hurrah!  I  see  him,"  shouted  a  student,  "and  he's 
beyond  the  break  of  the  surf." 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  swimming  steadily,"  said  another; 
"but  he'll  never  make  the  ship  in  such  a  sea  as  this." 

"  He's  the  strongest  swimmer  I  ever  saw,"  said  Thorpe. 

"That  may  be,  but  this  is  an  awful  swim.  It  is  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  ship,  and  with  such  a  sea  011  it 
might  as  well  be  ten  miles." 

It  was  impossible  now  to  see  the  swimmer,  buried  as  he 
was  in  a  raging  sea,  and  blinded  as  the  people  were  by 
the  mist  and  spray.  But  the  line  was  slowly  drawing 
out,  and  that  showed  that  Wentworth  still  had  strength 
to  swim. 


Students  climbed  trees  for  a  better  view.  The  women 
came  back  and  crowded  the  bluff  in  their  eagerness  to 
learn  how  matters  went  with  the  swimmer.  One  young 
woman  ran  out  upon  the  spring-board.  She  stood  there, 
v.atehiiig  the  bold  swimmer  through  a  lar^e  spyglass. 
Her  hair  uas  blou  n  loos...  and  tossed  a  limit  by  the  u  ind. 
A  gust  carried  auay  the  shau  I  she  bad  worn  about  her 
shoulders.  Kut  she  knew  nothing  of  these  things,  or  of 
the  pitiless  pelting  of  the  storm  upon  her.  She  knew  only 
that  there  was  a  young  hero  out  there  among  the  mad 
waves,  daring  deal  h  in  an  ell'ort  to  save  the  1  i\  es  of  others. 

After  a  while  the  paying  out  of  line  came  to  a  stop. 
The  cord  huiii:  limp  in  Thorpe's  hands,  and  even  began  to 
drift  back  upon  the  beach.  Five  minutes,  which  seemed 
live  hours,  passed  away.  Then  the  line  stretched  again, 
and  the  payingont  was  resumed.  Not  for  long,  however. 
The  intervals  of  rest  increased  in  frequency  and  length, 
while  the  spurts  of  swimming  grew  steadily  briefer. 

He  \\as  still  alive,  however,  and  that  was  something. 
After  a  while  the  swimmer  seemed  to  have  recovered 
strength,  for  the  line  drew  out  slowly  and  steadily  for  a 
very  Imig  time',  and  b\  the  amount  of  cord  left  it  was 
judged  that  be'  must  be  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
ship.  Then  he  ceased  to  draw  the  line.  Minute  after 
minute  passed  without  a  sign.  That  long  swim,  they  were 
now  sure,  had  been  a  la  si  desperate  etl'orl  to  reach  the  ship, 
and  u  ben  that  failed  the  su  i miner  had  sunk  to  the  bottom. 

There  was  a  low  murmur  among  the  people  as  this 
thought  was  forced  upon  them.  Then  there  was  a  twitch 
at  I  be  line  in  Thorpe's  hand,  and  a  moment  later  it  began 
again  to  run  out. 

"  \Ye  e-ive  Thee  thanks  I"  said  the  President,  reverently 
baring  bis  head  and  looking  upward,  and  not  another 
word  was  spoken  by  any  of  the  people  on  the  shore.  There 
was  no  need  of  speech.  The  line  still  drew.  Wentworth 
uas  still  swimming. 

The  young  woman  on  the  spring  board  had  not  lower- 
ed her  glass  for  a  moment.  She  bad  stood  there  like  a 
statue,  scarcely  moving  a  muscle.  Now  she  changed  her 
alt  it  iide  a  I  it  I  le.  and  in  a  voice  quivering  with  excitement, 
she  said.  "They  see  him,  and  are  getting  a  line  ready!" 
Then,  after  a  pause:  "They  are  throwing  the  line  !  He  has 
caught  -no,  he  has  missed  il  '  I  le  is  drifting  past  the  ship 
and  out  of  reach!  He  has  caught  a  line  thrown  from 
the  bow!  They  are  hauling  him  up!  He  is  on  deck! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  !" 

And  the  girl,  wild  with  joy,  threw  down  her  spy-glass, 
and  waved  her  arms  as  she  shouted. 

A  larger  cord  was  now  attached  and  drawn  011  board. 
Then  a  cable  was  carried  out,  and  a  little  after  noon 
the  lirst  load  of  passengers — women  and  children — was 
brought  ashore.  When  all  the  women  and  children  were 
saved  the  men  followed,  and  with  the  last  earful  came  Went- 
worth and  the  Captain.  The  youth  was  greatly  exhaust- 
ed, and  much  bruised  from  being  hauled  aboard  the  ship. 
but  no  bones  were  broken,  and  a  day's  rest  in  bed  was  all 
that  he  needed. 

III. 

No,  Wentworth  did  not  marry  the  spy -glass  girl.  If 
this  were  a  made-up  story  that  is  the  way  it  would  end; 
but  it  is  not  a  made-up  story  at  all.  It  is  simply  a  true  ac- 
count of  something  that  actually  happened,  though  I  have 
changed  the  names  of  the  real  persons  somewhat.  Went- 
worth was  the  hero  of  the  college  and  the  town,  of  course, 
and  when  it  was  known  how  poor  he  was  there  was  an 
effort  made  to  raise  some  money  for  him.  There  were 
wealthy  men  who  wanted  to  subscribe  liberally  to  a  fund 
for  his  benefit,  but  the  proud  fellow  refused  to  receive  a 
cent,  saying,  when  the  matter  was  mentioned  to  him : 

' '  I'm  not  an  object  of  charity.  Give  your  money  to 
the  poor." 

And  so  Wentworth  went  on  "working  like  a  slave  and 
living  like  a  pauper, "but  in  truth  being  a  self-respecting 


600 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"SHE    STOOD    WATCHING    THE    BOLD    SWIMMER    THROUGH    A    LARGE    SPY-GLASS 


gentleman.  He  made  his  way  through  college,  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  such  a  young  man  made  a  place  for  him- 
self among  men.  If  I  were  to  mention  his  real  name 
here  many  readers  would  recognize  it  as  that  of  a  distin- 
guished clergyman  and  scholar,  who.  in  spite_  of  added 
years,  is  still  strong  for  the  doing  of  his  duty. 


K-l 


SOME  HINTS  OX  HORSEBACK-RIDING. 

BY  CAPTAIN  JOHN  CODMAN. 

I  HAVE  often  wondered  why  horseback-riding  is  not  a 
more  popular  amusement  among  our  young  people. 
"  It  is  very  expensive  to  keep  a  horse."  some  of  you  may 
say,  "  and  papa  does  not  feel  that  he  can  afford  it." 

But  is  it  more  expensive  than  many  amusements  that 
he  already  allows  you,  and  is  there  not  more  pleasure  in  a 
breezy  gallop  through  the  Park  and  over  country  roads 
than  can  be  had  in  many  ways  that  cost  as  much  ?  In 
England  there  are  three  times  as  many  boys  and  girls  that 
ride  on  horseback  as  we  have  here,  and  perhaps  this  is  one 
reason  for  their  ruddier  looks  and  the  stronger  physique, 


that  can  only  be  gained  by 
plenty  of  exercise  in  the 
open  air. 

If  you  can  not  own  a 
horse,  one  may  be  hired  for 
a  comparatively  small  sum, 
and  this  may  be  greatly  re- 
duced if  the  arrangement  is 
a  regular  one.  I  would, 
however,  prefer  to  think  of 
every  young  rider  as  hav- 
ing his  own  horse.  "With 
a  hired  horse  you  are  not  at 
home  in  your  saddle  any 
more  than  the  horse  is  at 
home  with  you  upon  his 
back.  You  do  not  take  a 
personal  interest  in  him, 
and  he  can  not  take  the  same 
kind  of  an  interest  in  you. 
Let  me  tell  you  the  rela- 
tions that  exist  between  my 
horse  Jeff  and  me.  I  have 
owned  him  seven  years,  and 
he  thinks  that  he  owns  me. 
Nobody  else  rides  him  ;  but 
one  day  I  put  my  wife  upon 
his  back.  The  groom  was 
alarmed  for  her  safety  ; 
but  when  she  came  back. 
|ilc;isi'd  with  her  ride,  lie 
said  to  her.  "Well,  ma'am, 
he  carried  you  only  out  of 
courtesy  to  the  Captain." 

Jeff  and  I  are  very  fond 
of  riding  up  and  down  the 
cast  bank  of  the  Hudson 
from  New  York  to  Peeks- 
kill.  He  knows  all  un- 
friends on  the  road  as  well 
as  I  do,  and  I  think  he  en- 
joys the  scenery  as  much. 
We  talk  together  as  we  go 
along  ;  at  least  I  talk  to 
him,  and  he  understands 
me.  It  is  a  pleasure,  you 
know,  sometimes,  to  have 
a  companion  who  appre- 
ciates your  conversation, 
and  shows  his  appreciation 
of  it  by  silence. 

I  wish  that  every  one  of  you  might  have  a  horse  like 
Jeff.  Some  one  of  you  who  reads  this  may  ask  his  papa 
to  buy  him  a  pony.  I  hope  his  papa  will  not  listen  to 
him.  Little  boys  think  ponies  are  nice,  but  I  don't  think 
that  generally  they  are.  The  only  possible  advantage 
that  a  pony  has  over  a  horse  is  that  when  his  rider  falls 
he  does  not  have  so  far  to  fall. 

But  then  you  must  not  fall  at  all.  You  ought  to  ''  slick 
on":  that,  after  all,  is  the  great  secret  of  horsemanship. 
There  are  ever  so  many  books  which  give  minute  direc- 
tions as  to  "the  seat.''  If  you  go  to  a  riding-school  you 
will  hear  more  of  it  there.  But  Indians  and  ranchmen 
don't  read  books,  and  don't  go  to  riding-schools.  I  would 
like  to  see  some  of  our  fancy  horsemen  try  to  ride  a  buck- 
ing horse  on  the  prairies. 

A  great  deal  depends  on  habit  and  the  style  of  saddle. 
I  don't  like  the  English  saddle,  for  I  don't  think  it  as  easy 
for  the  horse  or  for  the  rider  as  the  McClellan,  the  Whit- 
man, or  the  Mexican.  Nor  do  I  think  the  style  of  riding 
upon  it  is  as  graceful,  or  that  the  "sticking  on"  is  as  sure. 
Nevertheless,  we  know  that  jockeys  do  adopt  it  with  suc- 
cess, and  that  it  has  hitherto  been  more  popular  than  any 


JULY 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


601 


o 

o 

o 
f 

e 

- 


602 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


other.  Whichever  kind  of  saddle  you  prefer,  commence 
your  practice  without  stirrups  :  then  your  knees  will  get 
the  all-important  "grip";  afterward  you  may  indulge  in 
the  luxury  of  stirrups  to  make  your  riding  less  fatiguing. 

You  will  notice  that  most  saddles  are  placed  so  far  for- 
ward upon  the  horse's  back  that  they  are  close  upon  his 
withers.  This  is  very  wrong,  as  the  horse  would  tell  you 
if  he  could  speak.  When  a  clumsy  hostler  puts  a  saddle 
upon  Jeff  in  that  way  he  immediately  remonstrates,  but 
when  it  is  put  six  or  eight  inches  further  back,  as  it  should 
be,  he  becomes  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  Not  only  will  the 
horse  carry  you  easier  with  the  saddle  in  the  right  place, 
but  he  will  carry  you  with  greater  safety.  He  will  not  be 
so  likely  to  stumble,  whereby  he  might  break  his  knees 
and  your  neck. 

Now  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the  reins.  Try  to  ride  as 
if  you  had  none.  Place  no  dependence  upon  them  what- 
ever for  keeping  your  seat.  Martingales  should  never  be 
used;  neither  should  a  snaffle  or  a  double  bit.  Every  horse 
should  be  trained  to  go  with  a  simple  easy  curb,  and  it  is 
well  to  have  a  slide  upon  the  single  rein  so  that  you  will 
hold  only  one  part,  as  it  were,  of  the  bridle  in  your  hand. 
Thus  you  will  not  be  tempted  to  steer  the  animal  as  if  he 
were  in  harness,  but  by  a  gentle  pressure  of  the  rein  on 
his  neck  upon  the  side  opposite  to  the  way  you  intend  that 
he  shall  go,  he  will  understand  your  wishes  without  any 
appeal  to  his  mouth — the  mouth  which  you  should  never 
spoil,  as  by  so  doing  your  horse  would  be  totally  ruined. 
By  handling  him  in  this  way  yon  will  soon  find  that  you 
can  control  him  with  your  thumb  and  finger. 

Riding-whips  should  never  be  carried  excepting  by  la- 
dies. They  frighten  horses,  and  do  them  no  good.  Those 
great  clumsy  clubs  with  loops  on  the  end  are  only  serv- 
iceable in  England,  where  they  are  used  to  open  gates  in 
the  lanes  that  are  much  frequented  by  horsemen.  Wear 
a  pair  of  light  spurs.  This  advice  may  seem  cruel,  but  it 
is  not  intended  that  the  spurs  should  be  used  for  any  other 
purpose  than' that  of  giving  an  occasional  hint,  so  that  the 
horse  may  know  that  he  is  under  your  control. 

Ladies  may  carry  a  light  riding-whip,  not  a  club,  and 
they  should  never  raise  it,  for  a  horse  has  the  useful 
faculty,  denied  to  us,  of  back  sight.  So  the  whip  should 
be  carried  in  the  right  hand  over  the  flank. 

There  is  an  old  rhyme  well  worth  remembering.  The 
horse  is  speaking: 

"Up  hill,  spare  me; 

Down  hill,  spare  thee; 
But  on  the  plain  spare  me  not ; 
Cool  me  well  when  I  am  hot." 

Only  do  not  take  his  suggestions  too  literally.  Do  not  let 
him  cool  off  in  a  hurry.  Slacken  your  pace  if  possible 
some  time  before  arrival  at  your  destination,  so  that  he 
may  come  in  not  overheated.  Above  all  things  do  not 
let  him  drink  while  warm — at  any  rate,  not  more  than  a 
sip  to  moisten  his  mouth.  By  neglect  of  this  precaution 
many  valuable  horses  have  been  foundered. 

Almost  all  side-saddles  are  instruments  of  torture  to  the 
horse,  if  not  to  the  rider,  and  not  unfrequently  to  both. 
This  is  owing  chiefly  to  the  trees,  which  are  a  combina- 
tion of  wood,  iron,  and  padding.  The  California  and  the 
Whi-tman  tree  is  the  same  for  a  lady's  or  for  a  man's  sad- 
d'le — a  long  bit  of  wood,  open  in  the  middle  for  air,  and 
making  the  pressure  on  the  horse's  back  more  general 
than  local.  Two  or  three  thicknesses  of  blanket  are  worn 
under  it.  You  may  say  that  such  an  outfit  is  not  genteel. 
Perhaps  not;  but  there  is  another  old  saying — "Handsome 
is  that  handsome  does."  I  am  glad  to  see  that  fashion  has 
somewhat  relented  in  shortening  something  that  ought  to 
be  dispensed  with  altogether.:  I  mean  the  riding-habit. 
How  much  more  sensible  is  the  practice  that  obtains  in 
some  South  American  countries  of  wearing  frocks  and 
riding  trousers! 

But  we  must  be  thankful  for  what  we  can  get.      Every 


inch  cut  off  the  riding-habit  is  in  the  way  of  a  guarantee 
of  the  rider's  life.  Girls  should  practice  riding  without  a 
stirrup,  and  when  a  stirrup  is  used  lengthen  out  the  strap 
as  much  as  possible.  As  in  the  case  of  the  man's,  keep  the 
side-saddle  well  back  from  the  withers.  It  is  even  more 
important  in  your  case.  Sit  up  straight  if  you  can,  but 
"stick  mi"  any  way:  and,  above  all  things,  keep  your 
hand  off  the  pommel,  and  do  not  be  afraid,  or  you  will 
never  learn  to  ride. 

Bear  in  mind,  all  of  you  boys  and  girls,  what  I  have 
said  about  ponies.  They  are  generally  more  vicious  than 
horses.  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should  be  mounted  upon 
a  very  large  horse.  For  young  people,  and  for  people  of 
any  age  of  light  weight,  the  most  desirable  size  for  a  horse 
is  fifteen  or  fifteen  and  a  half  hands,  and  he  should  weigh 
about  850  or  900  pounds. 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL."* 

BY      JAIVLES      OTIS, 
AUTHOR  OF  "TOBY  TYLER,"  "Tisi  AND  TIP,"  "  Mn.  STUBBS'S  BROTHER, "  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
RECKLESS     STEERING. 

THE  sponge  fishers  wei-e  employed  not  far  from  Tampa 
Bay,  and  therefore  when  Captain  Sammy  had  finish- 
ed his  business  among  them,  it  would  require  only  a  few 
hours  for  the  Pearl  to  run  into  Tampa. 

Three  hours  after  they  had  left  Boca  Grande  Captain 
Sammy  pointed  directly  ahead  to  some  low  islands  or  keys, 
lying  almost  level  with  the  water,  and  around  which  a 
number  of  vessels  or  boats  could  be  seen. 

"There  are  the  sponge  fishers, "he  said,  "and  in  less 
than  an  hour  we  shall  come  to  anchor  among  them." 

The  boys  fully  expected  to  see  a  novel  sight  when  once 
they  wen-  among  the  sponge  fishers,  despite  Tommy's  as- 
sertion that  there  "wasn't  much  to  be  seen."  and  they  were 
all  excitement  as  they  approached. 

But  when  the  Pearl  was  anchored  in  the  very  midst 
of  the  fleet  of  vessels,  and  nothing  more  unusual  was  to 
be  seen  than  a  number  of  small  boats,  each  containing 
from  two  to  four  men,  all  engaged  in  plunging  long  poles 
into  the  water,  and  drawing  them  up  with  a  mass  of  sponge 
at  the  end,  they  were  disposed  to  feel  that  they  had  been 
defrauded  in  some  way. 

It  was  no  more  novel  and  not  nearly  so  interesting  as  to 
see  a  party  spearing  eels,  and  after  the  boys  had  watched 
them  for  half  an  hour  they  had  seen  all  they  cared 
about. 

Captain  Sammy  had  been  bustling  around,  making  fran- 
tic signals  with  his  hands,  from  the  time  the  Pearl  had 
first  come  to  anchor.  All  his  noise  and  fuss  finally  re- 
sulted in  a  spare  boat  being  sent  to  them  from  a  schooner 
of  his  called  the  Bonita. 

The  little  man  proposed  to  visit  all  the  vessels  lying 
there — those  which  he  owned,  to  see  that  the  work  was 
being  conducted  to  suit  him.  and  the  others  for  the  pur- 
pose of  bargaining  for  the  sponge,  the  greater  quantity  of 
which  was  sold  in  Key  West. 

It  was  not  his  intention  to  take  any  of  his  own  men 
away  from  their  work  to  row  him  around  on  his  tour  of 
inspection  and  purchase,  for  he  said  in  the  most  benev- 
olent manner  possible,  and  as  though  he  were  conferring 
some  great  favor,  "  I'm  going  to  let  Bobby  and  Tommy 
row  the  boat,  and  Dare  and  Charley  can  stay  here  to  keep 
ship." 

Neither  of  the  two  boys  selected  had  any  very  great  de- 
sire to  labor  at  the  oars  on  an  errand  which  would  be  so 
uninteresting  to  them ;  but  they  were  careful  not  to  let 

*  Begun  in  No.  175,  HAISPEK'S  YOUNU  PEOPLE. 


Jfl.Y  lit,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


(  'a  plain  Sammy  see  that  they  looked  upon  it  as  anything 
but,  the  greatest  favor. 

After  the  party  had  left  the  steamer  Dare  and  Charley 
found  it  rather  bard  work  to  amuse  themselves  in  a  place 
where  there  was  really  so  little  to  be  seen  They  watched 

the  sharks  as  the]  glided  around  among  the  boats  in  search 
of  prey,  their  dorsal  tins  visible  above  the  water.  looking 
sinister  because  of  the  vers  yrace  and  swiftness  of  their 
movements. 

A  tier  Ibis  they  set  to  work  eat  chin  IT  lish  for  the  purpose 
of  surprising  Captain  Sammy  by  havinjr  a  chowder  all 
ready  for  him  when  be  should  come  CPU  board  for  dinner. 
and  they  did  succeed  in  surprising  him.  for  neither  he  nor 
any  one  else  could  have  told  what  the  dark  looking  mix- 
ture was  simply  by  judging  from  its  taste  and  appearance. 

('aptain  Sammy  really  appeared  to  be  grieved  because 
the  captain  and  engineer  of  the  Pi'url  knew  IMP  more 
about  cooking  than  was  shown  by  this  chouder.  and  lie 
obliged  them  to  watch  all  his  movements  while  he  cooked 

two  ducks,  giving  them  a  lony  Iceliir i  cooking  which 

was  only  finished  when  the  dinner  was. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  take  \oii  in  hand  on  the  nexl  cruise."  he 
said,  as  he  got  into  the  boat  again,  "  and  by  the  t  ime  \\  e've 
been  the  whole  length  of  the  reef,  you  will  be  able  to  get 
up  almost  as  good  a  dinner  as  I  can." 

But  he  seemed  to  think  they  could  uash  dishes  well 
enough,  for  he  left  the  yacht  uithoiit  doiny  anything 
toward  helping  to  clean  up  the  liltle  cook  room  or  the 
dining  table,  and  il  uas  fully  an  hour,  owimr  to  their 
awkwardness,  before  Dare  and  Charley  succeeded  in  doing 
it  in  anything  like  a  proper  manner. 

After  this  work  uas  done  the  boys  lomiyed  on  deck 
uishiny  that.  Captain  Sammy  uould  return,  so  thai  lliev 

could  yet  aua  v  from  the  very  disagreeable  odor  caused  bj 

the  decaying  sponges,  when  suddenly  the  movements  of 
an  incominy  schooner  alt  raeled  their  a  I  tent  ion. 

She  evidently  Was  One  of  the  Heel  of  sponye  yatherers. 
lint  the  singular  manner  in  which  she  was  handled  caused 
the  bo\  s  yreat  surprise,  amateur  sailors  though  they  were. 

Il  seemed  as  if  the  helmsman  had  no  idea  as  to  where 
he  wanted  to  y<  p  or  what  he  should  dip.  for  lie  steered  bis 
vessel  in  the  wildest  possible  manner,  and  without  the 
sliyhtesl  reyard  IIP  the  direction  of  the  wind.  The  craft 
would  be  beaded  directly  for  one  of  the  anchored  vessels, 
as  if  the  only  purpose  was  to  run  her  down,  and  then  she 
would  come  about  with  sails  Happing,  blocks  rattliny,  and 
men  shouting,  her  prow  directed  toward  another  vessel. 

This  singular  behavior  on  the  part  of  the  crew  or  cap 

tain  of  the  scl ner  caused  the  greatest  excitement  amony 

the  other  fishermen,  and  they  shouted  and  yelled  at  t  hose 
on  hoard  the  oll'ending  vessel  until  there  was  a  perfect 
Mabel  of  confusion. 

"It  won't  be  many  minutes  before  some  craft  yets 
.smashed  if  they  keep  on  at  this  rate,"  said  Charley,  when 
the  vessel  grazed  the  side  of  one  that  was  anchored'  not 
far  from  the  Peiui. 

"The  men  must  have  been  drinking,"  said  Dare,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  craft  was  so  near  that  the  boys 
could  plainly  see  those  on  board,  and  it  was  only  too  evi- 
dent that,  from  the  captain  clown,  all  hands  were  in  a  state 
of  complete  intoxication. 

They  had  probably  just  received  pay  for  their  cargo  of 
sponges,  and  the  money  which  they  had  labored  hard  and 
braved  so  many  dangers  for  had  been  used  to  degrade  them 
to  a  level  many  degrees  lower  than  that  of  the  brutes. 

But  those  011  the  yacht  had  no  time  for  watching  the  be- 
sotted sailors,  for  their  position  of  spectators  was  quickly 
changed  to  that  of  participators  in  the  general  excitement. 

The  vessel,  which  had  been  some  distance  from  them, 
now  changed  her  course,  heading  directly  for  the  Pearl, 
and  in  such  a  direction  that  it  wrould  strike  her  about 
midships. 

"  They'll  run  us  down  sure!"  cried  Dare,  as  he  jumped 


to  his  feet  with  the  intention  of  signaling  them ;  but  as  he 
realized  how  useless  that  would  be.  he  shouted  to  (.'barley. 
••  See  if  there  isn't  steam  enough  on  to  send  us  ahead  a  lit- 
tle way.  and  I'll  trip  the  anchor." 

Since  they  had  intended  to  remain  on  the  sponging 
grounds  twenty  four  hours  at  least,  the  tires  had  been 
drawn,  and  Charley  knew  even  before  he  rushed  into  the 
engine  room  I  hat  there  was  not  an  ounce  of  steam  in  the 
boilers,  but  yet  he  made  the  trial,  shoulingto  I  >are  almost 
immediately  afterward.  "  It's  no  use;  the  \\ater  isn't  even 

warm." 

l>are  was  t  Hairing  away  at  the  cable,  and  as  Charley 
spoke  he  looked  up  at  tile  approaching  schooner. 

Ib  r  sails  were  full,  she  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  away,  and  coming  with  a  force  that  must  crush  the 
yacht  like  an  eyg  shell. 

"  Help  me  launch  the  boat  !"  1  >are  shouted.  "She  will 
keep  us  from  the  sharks  a  few  moments,  at  all  events." 

CHAPTKK    XXVIII 

THE    NEWS    AT    TAMPA. 

THE  excitement  among  the  fishermen  was  now  intense: 
there  seemed  to  be  HIP  chance  but  that  the  little  steamer 
would  be  run  down,  and  in  such  an  event  the  lives  of  those 
CPU  board  wen-  in  yreat  peril. 

It  was  hardly  possible  that  they  could  remain  in  the  wa 
ter  a  single  instant  without  being  devoured  by  the  sharks, 
and  the  vessel  that  uas  sailing  toward  them  was  so  hiyh 
out  of  the  \\  ater,  owing  to  having  no  car^o  on  board,  that 
it  would  hardly  be  possible  for  the  boys  to  gain  any  hold 
of  her  as  she  came  crashing  on  to  them. 

Kvery  boat  in  the  vicinity  was  headed  at  once  toward 
tin-  apparently  doomed  steamer,  but  yet  not.  one  of  them 
could  by  aii\  possibility  reach  her  until  some  moments 
after  the  crash  would  come. 

Meanwhile  the  boys  on  board  uere  working  with  an  eil- 
ergj  and  desperation  such  as  could  only  have  come  to 
them  in  a  moment  of  "/real  peril. 

The  boat  uould  hardly  be  of  much  service  to  them  after 
they  yot  her  launched,  for.  lyiny  ill  the  sun  as  she  had 
been,  the  seams  that  were  only  imperfectly  closed  at  the 
lirsl.  were  now  opened,  so  that  she  would  hardly  11 1  pal  more 
than  ti  vi.'  minutes.  But,  as  Dare  had  said,  she  might  serve 
to  keep  them  from  the  sharks  a  few  moments,  and  in  that 
time  some  one  of  the  other  boats  might  pick  them  up. 

It  uas  no  light  task  to  launch  the  boat  unaided  in  the 
few  seconds  they  had  at  their  disposal;  but  yet  they  sue 
ceeded  just  as  the  schooner  with  her  drunken  crew  was 
within  ten  or  twelve  feet  of  them. 

At  ibis  moment,  whether  by  chance,  or  because  some 
idea  of  the  damage  they  were  about  to  do  gained  an  en- 
trance into  their  stupefied  brains,  no  one  ever  knew,  the 
helmsman  jammed  his  wheel  hard  down,  and  the  craft  was 
just  beginning  to  sheer  around  in  obedience  to  it  when  she 
struck  the  Pearl. 

Dare  and  Charley  were  all  ready  to  leap  into  the  almost 
sinking  boat  when  the  final  crash  came,  and  Dare  saw  the 
helmsman's  movement. 

"Hold  on!"  he  shouted  to  Charley :  "she  won't  strike 
us  full,  and  there  are  a  good  many  chances  that  the  Pearl 
won't  sink." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  blow  came,  and  both  boys  were 
hurled  to  the  deck,  while  the  tender,  which  had  cost  such 
labor  to  launch,  was  sunk  immediately. 

It  was  hardly  more  than  a  hair's-breadth  which  had 
saved  them,  for  they  were  saved,  even  though  such  a  blow 
had  been  struck  the  little  craft. 

When  Dare  had  started  to  trip  the  anchor  he  had,  al- 
most unconsciously,  let  off  the  turn  of  the  cable  from  the 
miniature  windlass,  and  the  consequence  was  that  theyacht 
was  riding  almost  as  free  as  if  no  anchor  had  been  down. 
The  wind,  acting  on  her  upper  works  as  on  a  sail,  had  be- 


604 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


•DARE    WAS    TUGGING    AWAY    AT    THE    CABLE." 


gun  to  force  her  through  the  water  sideways,  which  had 
I  lie  effect  of  diminishing  the  blow  very  sensibly.  The 
.schooner  having  begun  to  veer  around,  did  not  strike  the 
Pearl  with  her  cut-water,  but  hit  her  a  glancing  blow  that 
had  the  effect  of  forcing  her  along,  instead  of  bearing  her 
down.  The  force  was  so  great,  however,  that  the  Pearl 
was  carried  along  to  the  full  length  of  her  chain-cable, 
which  was  snapped  apart  as  if  it  had  been  a  thread,  and 
nearly  flung  on  to  a  vessel  anchored  on  the  port  side. 

The  starboard  rail  was  entirely  stove  in,  but  no  damage 
had  been  done  below  the  water-line,  and  Dare  and  Charley, 
scrambling  to  their  feet,  made  every  exertion  to  get  the 
other  anchor  down  before  they  should  drift  into  some 
of  the  other  crafts,  and  thus  work  more  damage  to  theni- 
. selves. 

Captain  Sammy  with  Bobby  and  Tommy,  who  had  pull- 
ed for  the  yacht  with  all  their  strength  when  they  saw  the 
peril  she  was  in,  came  on  board  almost  immediately  after 
the  second  anchor  was  down,  and  the  little  man  occupied 
at  least  ten  minutes  of  his  time  in  shaking  his  fist  and 
scolding  at  those  who  had  been  the  cause  of  the  acci- 

•  dent. 

When  he  had  thus  freed  his  mind  he  went  to  work  to 
lind  out  the  extent  of  the  damage  done,  and  after  that  was 
ascertained  he  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief: 

"Well,  we  ought  to  be  very  thankful  that  it  was  no 
worse.  When  I  saw  those  drunken  brutes  sailing  right 
down  011  you  I  made  sure  that  the  Pearl  was  gone  forever, 
.and  your  being  saved  was  only  a  question  of  how  long  it 
would  be  before  we  could  get  at  you.  It  won't  cost  much 
time  or  money  to  make  the  rail  as  good  as  new,  and  we 
have  got  out  of  the  scrape  cheaply." 

By  this  time  the  career  of  the  vessel  with  her  drunken 

•  crew  "was  over.     They  had  tried  the  experiment  of  run- 
ning one  of  the  islands  down,  as  they  had  attempted  to  do 
with  the  Pearl,  and  the  consequence  was  that  the  vessel 
was  ashore  in  what  looked  to  be  a  sinking  condition. 

Captain  Sammy  had  nearly  completed  his  work  when 
it  became  necessary  to  start  to  the  aid  of  Dare  and  Charley, 
and  now  he  concluded  that  he  would  try  to  do  no  inure 
that  day. 

"We  can  stop  here  011  our  way  to  the  reef,"  he  said, 

"and  then   I  can  see  those  whom  I  have  not   already 

^talked  with.     We  will  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  in  fixing 


the  rail,  and  to-morrow 
morning  we  will  start  for 
Tampa." 

The  tender  which  they 
were  to  repair  having  now 
gone  to  the  bottom,  or  float- 
ed off  full  of  water,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  have  a  new 
boat  for  the  Pearl,  and  Cap- 
tain Sammy  concluded  to 
keep  the  one  that  had  been 
sent  him  from  the  Bonita, 
which  fact  he  announced  to 
the  vessel's  captain  with  a 
great  deal  of  unnecessary 
scolding  about  those  who 
had  done  the  mischief. 

Now  that  they  had  a  boat 
again,  the  boys  concluded 
that  they  would  go  oil  shore 
to  see  what  the  little  village 
on  the  key  looked  like ;  and 
when  Captain  Sammy  an- 
nounced that  the  rail  was 
patched  as  well  as  it  could 
be  until  he  could  get  the 
steamer  home,  they  started 
for  the  land,  leaving  the  lit- 
tle man  alone  to  keep  ship. 

There  was  nothing  on  shore  to  interest  one  save  the 
"  crawls,"  or  pens  for  turtles,  which  appeared  to  make  up 
the  belongings  of  each  household  as  much  as  a  hen-pen 
does  that  of  a  farmer's  in  the  interior  States.  They  in- 
spected the  occupants  of  these  crawls  with  a  view  to  dis- 
tinguishing the  different  species  Captain  Sammy  had  told 
them  about,  and  then  returned  to  the  yacht. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


HO!   RUB-A-DUB-DUB! 

BY  ANGELINE  3IAY. 

HO!  rub-a-dub-dub!     Ho!  rub-a-dub-dub! 
You  may  drum  till  your  wrists  are  sore. 
Till  your  elbows  droop  and  your  shoulders  stoop, 
But  they'll  never  coine  back  any  more. 

For  the  three  old  maids,  the  dear  old  maids, 

Who  dwelt  on  the  king's  highway. 
Have  been  wooed  and  won  by  three  merry  men; 

For  I  heard  the  gossips  say 

That  the  butcher  he  came  in  a  pea-green  coat 

And  a  wig  of  auburn  red, 
And  he  sighed  such  sighs  ami  vowed  such  vows 

As  would  turn  any  old  maid's  head. 

The  baker  he  came  with  a  huge  bouquet 

And  his  pockets  full  of  tarts. 
And  he  wooed  and  won  the  oldest  old  maid, 

With  the  tciiderest  of  tender  hearts. 

Then  up  the  mighty  river  Scrub 

The  candlestick-maker  sailed 
In  a  boat  shaped  strangely  like  a  tub, 

Aud  a  polka-dot  coat  lhat  trailed. 

He  tied  his  tub  to  a  juniper-tree, 

And  strode  up  the  king's  highway, 
AVith  his  polka-dot  coat  tails  over  his  arm, 

And  a  smile  that  was  blithe  and  gay. 

First  he  piped  a  serenade 

On  :i  Jew's-harp  made  of  tin. 
While  with  .sugar  kisses  and  chocolate  hearts 

He  strove  his  lady  to  win. 

In  compliments  sweet  and  yards  of  verse 

His  love  he  did  confess, 
Till  she  gently  leaned  on  his  polka-dot  sleeve, 

And  timidly  whispered,  "Yes." 


Jl'LY  24,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


And  there  they  embarked  in  a  graceful 
And  sailed  out  on  the  river  wide. 

Now  all  the  folks  in  the  country  rounc 
Came  running  from  far  and  near 

To  liid  farewell  to  the  three  old  maids. 
And  hear  what  there  was  to  hear. 


crowded  down  to  the  river-side. 
waved  and  shouted  "Good-liy!" 
•  oldest  old  maid  stood  up  in  the  tub, 
made  them  this  reply: 


"Farewell,  farewell,  to  all  our  friends; 

We  are  off  for  Thistledown  fair. 
We  shall  stop  at  the  isle  of  Needles  .-nnl 
Pins. 

And  there'll  be  three  weddings  there." 


Then  the'  drums  they 
lira!   and  the  dogs 
I  hey   harked. 
And       the       people 
shouted  a   song 

That  echoes  still 
through  nursery 
rhyme. 

And  will  be  remem- 
bered long. 

"  Ho  '  rub-a-dub-dub! 
IIo  '  rub-  a  -  dub- 
dub: 

And     who    do    you 
think  was  there? 

The  butcher,  the  linker, 
the  candlestick- 
niakcr. 

And  all  of  them  go- 
ing to  the  fair." 


So  the  maids  were  won. 
But   each  happy  heart   these 
troublesome  questions  vexed ; 
When     and    where    should    the 

wedding  be? 

And  what  ought  they  to   do 
next? 

Then  up  spoke  the  candlestick- 
maker  bold, 

"  Oh,  brothers  and  sisters  dear. 
You  shall  come  with  me  in  my 

gallant  tub 
That  lieth  in  wait  at  the  pier." 


So  the  butcher  and  baker  and  candlestick-maker 

Each  offered  his  arm  to  his  bride, 
And  gayly  they  marched  down  the  king's  highway 
To  the  juniper-tree  where  the  gallant  tub  lay, 


Ho!  rub-a-dub-dub:     Ho!  rub-a-dub-dub! 

You  may  drum  till  your  wrists  are  sore, 
Till  your  elbows  droop  and  your  shoulders  stoop, 

But  they'll  never  come  back  any  more. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


CJieerfutty. 

_J 1 


SUMMER  IS   COME. 


l;  ;         :  _J__^_L^___— _i— --,--      ~~csi 

1.      Wel  -  come,  sweet     sea   -   son  bright !  Sura  -  mer,      so        dear!         Mount  -  ain      and         val-    ley      no         long  -  er        are        sere; 
3.     Meek     lit   -    tie          vi     -     o-  lets.       hid  -  ing    from      view,          Gold-  en  -   eyed       dm   -    sies     all         spark -ling      with     dew; 


Wake    nret  -  ty          lil     -     y      bells,     list      the      bees'     hum !  Join       in       the       cho   -   rus,  bright    sum  -  mer       is       come ! 

Join' with     the       song  -  birds  and       bees'  plea  -  sant       hum.  Join       in       the       cho    •    rubric. 


Sum  -  mer        is        come,  Sum  -  mer       is        come;  Sum  -   mer,     bright     sum  -  mer       is          come;  Sir 

=,j:z=3=p=i 1 —         — = —        =o:rt 

E£t==^  ElE^ 


im   -   mer       is 


come, 


==F=    ^i        * 'i —        — i ^p-c 

Sum  -  mer,  bright  sum  -  mer ;        Sum  -  mer,  bright  gum  -  mer       is         come.  Symph.  f 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

COUNCIL  BLCFFS,  IOWA. 

I  am  a  boy  nine  years  old.  I  have  two  bro- 
thers and  four  sisters.  I  am  the  eldest  of  the 
family.  I  read  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  en- 
ioy  it  very  much.  The  story  I  like  best  is  ••  liais- 
ing the  -'Pearl.'"  I  always  read  it  the  first. 
Grandpa,  pupa,  and  Uncle  Richard  own  a  pack- 
ing-house. They  built  a  large  boat,  and  named 
it  Tlu  I'm rl.  Uncle  George  painted  it.  llepaim- 
ed  its  name  on  the  stern.  We  have  two  dogs. 
Grace  and  Sam.  Grace  is  Sam's  mother,  she 
is  i,s  <ild  as  I  am.  We  have  a  large  apple  orchard. 
When  the  apples  get  ripe  we  have  a  very  nice 
time  gathering  them. 

I  have  a  nice  little  flower  garden.  I  fixed  it  in 
the  spring,  and  I  have  flowers  in  it  now.  I  had 
-ome  pink  roses,  but  they  are  all  gone.  I  have  a 
lot  of  white  roses.  Grandma  isveryfond  of  gar- 
dening ;  sin-  i:ives  me  lots  of  flowers  and  plants. 
Mi.-  >ays  my  white  roses  are  the  prettiest  of  all. 
I  give  her  ever  so  many  of  them.  I  will  be  as 
glad  as  any  boy  to  see  my  letter  printed. 

BERTIE  G. 

I  am  a  girl  fourteen  years  of  age.  I  go  to 
school,  and  like  my  teacher  very  much.  I  have 
t  \vo  brothers ;  one  is  a  young  man,  and  the  other 
is  eight  years  old.  The  latter  goes  to  school,  reads 
in  i  lie-  Fifth  Reader,  and  has  the  large  arithme- 
i  i,.  geography,  and  grammar.  I  have  pieced  one 
nin .•-square  bed-quilt,  and  have  two  more  com- 
menced. One  is  called  "  Around  the  World,"  and 
tlio  other  the  "Tea  Pattern."  I  saw  in  No.  154 
of  YorN'i  PKOPLE  a  letter  signed  Etta  M  ,  \\v-t- 
port,  California,  saying  she  was  piecing  a  quilt 
hy  tlic  name  of  "Lincoln's  Platform."  I  would 
like-  to  exchange  one  <>f  my  patterns  for  that  one. 
Will  Ktta  M  please  mail  tin-  pattern,  with  her 
address,  and  state  which  pattern  she  would  like 
me  to  send  her  in  return,  and  I  will  prompt  l\ 
forward  the  pattern  slie  mmics  in  her  letter?  I 
have  a  pattern  called  the  "Philadelphia  l'a\e- 
ment,"  and  I  can  get  one  called  the  "fat's  claw." 
I  will  send  either  of  these  or  one  of  the  others, 
as  she  may  prefer. 

ELLEN  M.  MOSIIEK,  South  Westport,  Mass. 


JAMESTOWN,  NEW  YORK. 

In  No.  1!)I  I  saw  the  pretty  sailor  costume  for 
'lolls,  and  thought  I  would  like  one  for  my  doll. 
I  would  like  one  of  the  twelve-inch  patterns,  if 
you  please.  .My  address  is . 

I  think  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  the  best  pa- 
per in  the  whole  world.  I  would  not  take  five 
hundred  dollars  for  all  the  numbers  I  have  now 
unless  I  were  sure  I  could  get  them  all  again.  We 
have  a  large  lawn,  ami  lots  of  rose-bushes,  and 
three  hammocks,  one  for  each  girl.  For  pets  we 
have  a  dog  named  Curly,  and  four  birds.  My 
bird  is  named  Major, and  he  sings  from  morning 
until  night.  One  of  his  notes  sounds  like  a  sew- 
ing-machine or  a  saw. 


One  thing  everybody  here  enjoys  is  Chautau- 
<iua  Lake.  There  are  quite  a  number  of  boats 
(.11  the  hike,  of  which  the  Jamestown  is  the  lar- 
gest, and  the  Cincinnati  is  the  fastest.  Some- 
times, when  we  go  up  the  lake,  we  see  turtles  in 
the  water.  The  lake  is  twenty-one  miles  long.  I 
think  it  is  beautiful. 

If  I  ever  go  to  New  York  again,  I  am  coming 
to  see  the  place  where  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  publish- 
ed, and  to  see  you.  I  wish  I  could  send  yon  a 
bunch  of  roses,  but  I  am  afraid  they  would  with- 
er before  they  could  reach  you.  I  send  you  a 
puzzle.  K.  T.  S. 

In  some  regards  this  is  a  very  good  letter  in- 
deed. In  the  first  place,  the  way  in  which  our 
correspondent  asks  for  the  pattern  which  she 
wishes  sent  to  her  is  really  a  model.  It  is  very 
straightforward  and  business-like,  and  in  addi- 
tion to  what  is  here  printed,  the  unfilled  blank 
contained  her  name  and  post-office  address  in 
full.  In  the  next  place,  it  gives  us  a  good  idea 
of  K.  herself.  We  hope  the  little  lady  may,  one 
of  these  days,  step  into  the  office  where  YOUNG 
PROPLE  is  at  home,  before  it  starts  out  weekly 
on  its  trips  to  other  homes  all  over  the  wide 
world. 


DHTHOIT,  MICHIGAN. 

Having  never  written  before,  and  as  YOUNG 
I'KOI-I.K  is  a  dear  friend  of  ours,  we  thought  we 
would  write  now.  May  we  belong  to  the  Little 
Housekeepers?  Here  is  a  receipt  for  molasses 
candy : 

Two  cups  of  molasses,  one  etip  of  sugar,  one 
table-spoonful  of  vinegar ;  boil  from  twenty  min- 
utes to  half-an  hour. 

This  is  splendid.  Will  some  one  give  us  a  re- 
ceipt for  butterscotch? 

MARIE  C.  and  HAI.LIE  W. 


LIMESTONE,  NEW  YORK. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  Papa  gave 
HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  to  my  brother  Carl,  and 
he  gave  me  HARPER'S  MAGAZINE.  I  have  no  pets 
except  a  bird,  and  I  am  afraid  he  is  going  to  die. 
I  like  to  make  out  your  puzzles,  especially  those 
referring  to  geography.  It  rained  yesterday,  so 
I  did  not  shoot  off  my  tire-crackers.  I  saved 
them  until  to-day.  MAY  A.  B. 


Is  your  bird  moulting 
quite  lively  again. 


If  so.  he  may  soon  be 


U.UUUL  i««  t'liiy  (titier  luwis  nesiues.     t^apa 
to  t,rut  me  a  t-anary-bird.    I  have  taken  H 


YOUNG  PEOPLE  every  year  but  one  since  it  was 
published,  and  like  the  stories  very  much.  Will 
you  please  tell  me  whether  Jimmy  P.rown  is  an 
old  or  a  young  boy?  I  have  an  older  brother 
and  sister" away  at  school,  but.  they  an-  expected 
home  soon.  I  take  music  and  drawing  lessons. 
My  mamma  gives  music  lessons.  I  have  sent 
two  Wiggles,  but  neither  was  printed. 

CHARLEY  G.  O. 

Do  not  despair  of  seeing  yourself  by-ami  -by 
among  the  Wigglers  whose  efforts  are  published. 
Everything  comes  round  right  in  time  to  those 
who  persevere.  I  should  think  nobody  who  reads 
Jimmy  Brown's  funny  stories  would  fancy  him 
an  old  boy.  Only  a  very  young  one  could  per- 
form such  pranks. 


My  mamma  has  promised  for  a  long  time  to 
write  a  letter  for  me,  and  at  last  she  is  ready.  I 
have  a  pet  cat  named  Willy;  he  is  very,  very  thin 
now  while  shedding  his  coat,  but  in  winter  he  is 
very  large.  We  think  Willy  quite  intelligent. 
When  the  dinner  bell  rings  he  is  generally  asleep, 
hut  he  rouses  up  and  trots  to  the  dining-room, 
and  on  reaching  it,  if  none  of  the  family  is  there 
before  him,  he  walks  to  the  foot  of  the  stalls. 
and  mews  until  some  one  conies.  He  will  not 
take  anything  from  the  table  at  this  time,  but 
after  we  have  begun  our  meal,  and  one  rises  for 
any  purpose,  he  will  dart  to  that  chair  and  snatch 
something  from  the  plate.  Was  it  not  a  squirrel 
that  Davy  T.  had  for  a  pet?  I  am  glad  to  see 
Mrs.  Lillie's  new  story,  as  I  liked  "Nan"  so  much. 
NANNIE  T.  B. 

SHERBURNE  FOUR  CORNERS,  NEW  YORK. 

I  think  the  pet  Davy  T.  mentions  was  a  wood- 
chuck.  I  have  three  little  nephews  ;  the  youngest 
is  four  months  old,  and  the  oldest  is  five  year< 
old.  I  like  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much. 
I  have  been  sick  with  diphtheria,  and  my  eyes  are 
very  weak,  so  that  I  can  hardly  see.  I  ain  thir- 
teen years  old.  FANNIK  A.  II. 


ORANGE,  NEW  JERS 

I  have  seen  so  many  letters  in  YOUNG  PEI 
from  the  boys  and  girls  that  I  thought  I  wi 
write  too.  I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old. 
one  who  thinks  a  great  deal  of  your  nice  pa 
I  have  nine  dolls;  one  is  a  widow,  another 
colored  servant  named  Chloe.  My  widow- 
has  two  children,  Mabel  ami  Marian.  I  c< 
tell  you  about  the  others,  but  lam  afraid  it  we 
make  my  letter  too  long  I  think  Davy  T.'s 
must  have  been  a  woodchuck.  Lonsi-;  c. 


and 

per. 
is  a 
doll 
mid 
uilil 
pet 
s. 


AUI'EH'S 


WEI.LFI.EET,  MASSACHI  SETTS. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old,  and  I  have  a 
little  sister  nine  years  old.  We  live  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia,  but  have  come  to  visit  my  grandpa 
and  grandma  and  spend  the  summer.  They  have 


.ITLY   24,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOI'I.K. 


607 


a  nurse  named  Pansy,  and  she  will  eat  rake  out 
i if  your  hand.  My  sister  and  I  go  to  the  Friends' 

Sen,  ...1.      1  like!  lie  Story  Of"  liaising  the  •  Pearl'  " 

very  niueli.and  1  ha\<-  il  read  t,>  m,-  a-  -o,»n  as  it 
c.,mes  We  have  beautiful  times  at  grandpa's 
going  li-hiug  and  wading  d.nvn  at  the  wharf.  I 
like  1,1  read  the  letters  in  the  I',  ,-t-oIliee  IJi.x.  I 
Hi-i.te  tin-  letter  all  myself, and  1  hope  you  will 
print  it.  So  good-by.  l.'i  BECi  v  K.  N. 


THE  DAISIES'  LESSON. 
What  do  all  the  daisies  say. 
Sparkling  in  the  dew3   grass, 

Lifting  up  I  heir  pretty  head-, 
Nodding  t<i  ns  as  we  pus-? 

"We  are  like  the  golden  stars, 
They  shine  upward,  we  shine  too 

Both  are  doing  just,  the  work 
God   has  gh  en   us  t,i  do." 

Let  us.  then,  the  I,  --,,n  learn 
Whieh  the  pretty  dai-ies  teach, 

Not  to  wi-h.  with  I,, Hiring-  vain. 
l''.,r  the   work    lieyond  our  rea-h  ; 

lint  to  do  with  all  our  might. 

Every  moment   while  we  ma\. 
\\  li:it  -,  ,e',  i-  ,  ,111-  lialid-  may   tind 

t:\er  near  ns  ilay   l.y  d:i\  \l  leK  E. 


I.SNO\,  M  *«**,  H 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  y,-ars  old.     I  like  read 
ing  the  P,,-t  ofliee  I1"X  \  er>   mneli.     1  have  wi-it- 

tl'll    -CVeral    Idler-    Jll\-ell.   hut     ]|,,l    o|le    h:l-    been 

printed  I  hale  a  large  c-at,  who-e  name  is 
S|,i,-\  .  he  is  very  hand-ome.  and  I  think  he  would 
win  the  prize,  at  a  eat  show  it  he  went  l»  one. 
The  other  day  I  won  to  see  a  little  girl,  and  we 

<  hn,!, ,-d  up  into  a  tree,  and  alter  the  L'irl  ;in,l  I 
h:e!  _',,ne  out  on  a  linil.  two  more  ehildren  came 
o nt.  ami  tin-  limb  broke  down,  and  I  hurt  my 
knee  and  my  arm  pretty  badly  LOULII  v  I- 

I  like  to  hear  of  girls  who  eliinl.  tree-,  li.r  1 
think  a  girl  should  exeel  in  out  do,,r  -port-.  iu-t 
a-  he  r  hr, . ther  doe- ;  but,  dearie,  four  or  five  chil- 
dren oil  one  lilllil  were  just  three  or  four  too 
many.  It  is  a  merey  you  were  not  injured  for 
lit,  

Cll*lil  "T-Tf  .    V.MII     I  'tH'-IlN   .. 

I  have  been  taking  Yorv;  Pi i    I  w . ,  \  ears. 

ami  like  t  he  -tori.-  .  \  er  -,  >  much      I  will  be  el,\ 

en  \ears  old  on  the  Hltli  of  lletober  I  h.'ive  a 
Sister  older  than  tny-ell  I  wi-h  yon  e,,iil,l  -ee 

the    little    colored    liahies    down    Ill-re        till    Week 

<la\-  I  hey  wear  I  heir  hair  in  Hi  lie  pigtails,  form- 
ing a  sort  of  halo  around  t  heir  fat  -hilling  t'aees. 
but  on  Sundays  their  mothers  pin  little  bine  1 1,  i  \\  - 
iin  the  ends.  Carrie  gu\  e  a  sack  I,,  a  little  .  h,,ii\ 
baby  wh«i-e  n, iin,-  is  Pearl.  I  take  }'•!/!'<  i  ./ 

-til...    I  hope  this  is  not  too  long.    .My  sis- 
ter* arrie  is  going  to  eopy  it  for  me. 

II. ..  -  the  Postmistress  ever  play  (,,,  hang'- 

"M    I  ,    I 

she  would  if  she  ever  had  time,  but  yon  all 
keep  her  too  busy. 

BROOK  KM  LI  ..  MAKIUM,. 

1  am  not  one  of  your  subseribers.  but  my  little 
sister  Laura,  who'is  thirteen,  takes  ^.n  %,.  I'm 
pi  K.  and  I  am  sure  I  enjoy  reading  it  quite  as 
mneh  as  she  does,  and  my  brother,  who  is  a 
young  man  of  twenty  three,  is  a  great  admirer 
i.f  it  Even  papa  enjoys  the  adventures  ..I  rap 
tain  Sammy  and  the  boys.  I  had  no  idea  that 
Tommy  would  pr«ve  himself  so  brave  as  he  did 
iti  the  shark  adventure,  1  always  feel  a  deep  in- 
ter, -t  in  Jimmy  Brown's  exploits.  He  certainly 
ha-  an  original  mind,  and  if  he  collf-innes  to  im- 
prove it  at  this  rate,  he  will  be  a  very  brilliant 
man.  One  little  girl  said  she  would  pity  Sue  if 
.liinmy  ever  did  go  to  live  with  her;  but  I  think 
poor  Mr.Travers  would  be  quite  as  much  the  one 
to  be  pitied.  I  wish  the  wedding  would  come 
off,  for  I  would  like  to  see  how  Jimmy  will  im- 
prove his  mind. — or  that  of  some  one  else — on  the 
occasion. 

Will  some  reader  please  tell  me  who  is  the  au- 
thor of  the  following  lines* 

"I  slept,  ami  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty; 
I  woke,  anil  found  that  lite  was  duty. 
Was,  then,  the  dream  a  shadowy  lie? 

"Toil  ..n.  sad  heart,  courageously. 
And  thou  shalt  tind  thy  dream  to  be 
A  noontide  light  and  truth  to  th,  , 

HALLIE  M.  G. 

WlLMlN^TOV,  \ORTH    CAROLINA. 

We  think  the  pet  of  Davy  T.  was  a  woodehuek. 
LOTTIE  and  PATSON  W. 


ELIZABETH,  NKW  JKUSEV. 

I  have  a  little  story  to  tell  which  I  think  the 
readers  of  HAIIPKK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  would  like 
to  hear.  One  morning  we  went  to  the  barn,  and 
we  saw  an  old  hen  with  five  little  heads  peeping 
from  under  her  wings.  And  what  do  you  think 
they  were?  We  lifted  the  old  hen  up,  and  there 
were  rive  little  kittens.  One  was'white,  and  the 
other  four  were  dark.  A  day  or  two  before  the 
mother-eat  killed  and  ate  some  of  our  little  white 


ehiekens.     I  think  it  was  a  kind  return  for  the 
old  hen  to  take  eare  of  her  little  kittens. 

I  have  a  b,,\  ,.t  paint-,  and  I  am  beginning  to 
paint  Mow  ITS,  and  1  thought  I  would  put  some 

oil  this  letter.  SOPHIE    M     s. 

The  flowers  were  painted  very  nicely,  dear  and 
th,  -tory  will  charm  the  children.  The  old  hen 
was  a  darling. 

May's  pretty  rhyme,  which  eomes  next,  match 

e-   the    -olig  we  give   you  this  week,  does   il    OOl 
l.'i -ad  I  he  n  i  both.      If  \>,ii  all  II.M-  -11  miner  a-  I  do. 
yon  will  be  plea -ed  with  tin-  verse  of  Ma\'-  : 

I'lin  M.KI  nil*.  PKSS-*  1  s  .M  .. 

I  am  a  lilt  le  girl  nine  \  ears  old.  I  have  a  little 
Sister  .  h.-r  name  is  Kmma.  My  brother  Andrew 
take-  Y,,I  N-.  Pi  on  y  :  we  al-o  take  t.tiltl'H  Ikiijx 
and  si.  .\i,-liiilux.  .My  papa  is  writing  this  letter 
for  me.  I  have  composed  a  litt  le  |,ie,-e  ,,[  p, ,,  t  r\  . 
.111,1  here  it  i-.  1  hope  to  -ee  it  printed  .  it  would 
I  .,  ,i  -••  my  little  brother  Andrew  \  er\  much  : 

The  summer  has  come  '  the  -uinin,  r  has  com,-  ' 
The  [lowers  are  nodding  in  the   beantitnl  -iin, 
The  children  are  singing  their  happie-t    - 
Tin-  gra--,  -  are   urr>  en.  and   tin-  -kies  arc  bine. 
The  world   is  lovely  to  me  and  to  yon  , 
The  squirrel  i-  hopping  trom  tree  to  tree, 
llapp>    a-  <-\ ,  r  he  can  be.          M  \  \   I  i  n  i1,  ,  N  S 


1',>KTI   i^l,.   o, 

I  have  written  on.,-  t,,  II  U;PKI:'S  Yorv.  I'm 
pi.K.  and  the  letter  was  not  put  in.  -,,  I  thought 
1  would  \\riie  a;_'ain.  I  think  Jimmy  lirown'- 
stories  are  so  funny.  Margaret  B.,  Ithink,  wrofo  a 
\ ,  i  \  mi',-  let  ler.  I  am  leu  years  old, and  I  have 

two  Sisters,   l.ucyan.l  Genevleve        \\  .    had  a  nice 

dog.  but  he  ran  aw  ay  ul!  the  time,  so  we  sent  him 

away       Hi-   name   wa-    Fetch       lion't    \,.n  think 
that  wa-  a  nice  namev  F.MII  \    s 

It  ought,  to  have  been  Scamp,  when  he  wa-  so 
naught] 

1 

I  have  been  thinking  I  would  write  to  yon  for 
some  time.  I  have  a  little  sister  Mabel,  who  is 

ton  i-  \  ear-  old  ;  I  am  nine  I  ha  \ ,-  a  can:  it1,  l>ii  ,1 
\\  innie.  and  a  dog  I'.canU.  1  had  a  r,  ,1 
hint,  hut  he  died  a  f.  w  \\eeks  ago.  .My  auntie 
and  con-in  are  \isiting  n-  I  wa-  80  glad  when 
school  was  ,,\er  :  MAI-DIE  L. 

llcssir  \\.  It.:  Croquet   is  a  pleasant  .ml  d • 

game,  and  1  am  glad  yon  are  fond  of  it.  \\  rite 
again, dear.  I'eroj'S.,  I'aim-sville.  Ohio:  The  I'o-l 
ini-lrc-s  would  particularly  like  I,,  red  tve  a  let 
I  cr  si  .on  from  I  hi-  li.  tie  hoy.  who  has.  she  is  a  trail  I. 
fell  a  wee  bit  neglect.,!  Man. III.  and  Harold's 
mamma,  who  live  away  oil  at  Kona,  Hawaii,  are 
a-siu-ed  tlial  the  I',  .-I  mi-t  iv-s  clapped  her  bands 
with  pleasure  when  she  read  lull,-  Harold'-  1"\ 
ing  messages.  She  wishes  -he  could  see  tin'  pas- 
sions hie  growing  all .  .ver  I  he  veranda,  and  would 
like  to  klSS  the  pretty  boy.  and  play  hide-and-seek 
with  him  —  J.  Friend  I,.:  (iuoil  luck  to  your  rab- 
bits :  I  hey  are  very  II  i  e  pet-.  Did  you  ever  read 
al,,ait  the  poet  (  owpcr  and  his  pet  hares  I'llss 
and  Tiny,  Anna  II.:  A  pet  wildcat  be  ear, 
fill.— John  (!.  W. :  Fora  boy  only  eleven  yea  is  old 
you  write  a  remarkably  clear  business  hand,  and 
I  enjoyed  leading  your  letter,  although  I  am  not 
able  to  tind  room  for  it.  With  six  boys  and  three 
gii-1-yonrinothermust  have  a  merry  houseful,  and 
she  at  least  has  no  need  of  (.ther  pets.-  Kiuina 
I..:  \  pony,  a  kitten,  two  mocking-birds,  and 
six  dolls  are  enough  tor  one  little  girl,  1  think. — 
Aliri- s.  thinks  Davy  T.'s  pet  is  a  rabbit,  and  Lulu 
\\ .  I!,  is  sure  it  is  a  woodehuek.  Some  of  the  oth- 
er children  have  guessed  that  it  is  a  squirrel,  and 
now.  Master  Davy,  send  a  postal,  and  solve  your 
conundrum.— Mary  It.  ('. :  Do  not  be  discouraged 
because  your  letters  are  not  printed.— C.  W.  C. : 
To  live  near  an  orange  grove  must  be  charming 
at  some  periods  of  the  year.— May  1!.,  Lury  I,., 
llessie  P.,  Anna  li..  Herbert  N.,  Theodore  F.,  Sandy 
P.,  and  M.  0.  S.  will  please  accept  thanks  for  their 
letters  and  messages ;  Helen  K.,  Bertie  T..  Mattie 
U.  F.,  M.  K.,  and  Susie  S.  deserve  great  praise  for 
theirs .  — Itenben  I-.:  Birds' eggs  are  excluded  from 
the  articles  which  niav  be  offered  or  asked  for  in 
exchange.— Sadie  M.  T. ;  You  are  a  bright  little 
seamstress. 


RECEIPTS  FOE  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

CHOCOLATE  CAISAMELS .—  Two  pounds  of  brown 
sugar,  a  cup  of  sweet  milk,  a  cake  of  chocolate, 
a  lump  of  butter  tin-  si/.e  of  an  egg;  a  little  va- 
nilla may  be  added  just  before  it  is  done  ;  pour 
out  on  a'flat  pan  well-buttered,  and  when  slight- 
ly cooled  mark  into  squares.  HALLIE  M.  <;. 

STUFFED  EGGS.— Boil  the  eggs  until  they  are 
hard,  remove  the  shells,  and  cut  off  one  end  ;  take 
the  yolks  out  with  a  small  spoon ;  then  mix  to- 


-,  'her  \olk.  mustard,  celery  seed,  salt,  pepper, 
and  parsley,  and  put  the  mixture  back  into  th, 
white,  being  careful  not  to  break  it. 

l.on.v  A.  s. 

'  II",  "i  \  ri  <  1:1  MI  I;,, \KO\S  I'm  one  pound 
of  sugar  in  a  stew-pan,  with  milk  em  ,ngh  t, .  dis- 
solve it ;  let  it  boil  four  or  five  minutes ;  take  il 
off  the  fire  ;  add  a  little  vanilla  :  t  hen  cream  it  • 
roll  it  in  little  balls  the  si/.e  .,f  a  mhcrt.  and  let  it 
cool ;  put  half  a  pound  of  chocolate  in  a  tin  plate, 
over  a  k,  ti  le  of  ln.iliiur  water,  and  when  it  di-- 
solves  dip  tin-  bonbon-  inlo  il,  and  lay  them  ,,n 
buttered  [.a per  to  cool. 

HONEY  CAKES.— i  in,-  quart  , ,!  honey,  half  a  pint 
of  sugar;  ginger,  nutmeg,  salt  :  hall  a  pint  of  melt- 
ed butter,  a  tea-spoonful  of  ,-oda  in  half  a  tea- 
cup of  warm  water;  Hour  the  roll  ;  roll  thin,  and 
cut  in  cake-. 

FIU-IT  Ditop  CAKES.— Two  pounds  of  flour,  one 
pound  of  butler,  one  pound  of  sugar,  three  eggs, 
one  pound  of  currants,  one  tea  spoonful  ol  rose 

water,  one  tea  -] ntnl  ot  e--enee  ,,t  lemon,  and 

one  tea  -poo nt  nl  of  soda  :  drop  from  a  spoon  mi 
a  tin.  ami  bake. 

SEED  CAKES.— One  and  a  half  pints  of  flour,  one 
large  cup  of  sugar,  three-quarters  of  a  cup  of  bul 
ter.  a  wine- glass  of  water,  a  tea  spoonful  of  soda, 
and  a  large  spoonful  of  caraway  seeds. 


1TZ/LKS   FI.'uM   Yiil   Ni.   I'ONTKIRUTob'S 

No    1 

l\\<>    M    MKKIOAL    EMIiMAS. 

1.  The  whole,  of  1(1  letters,  forms  a  part  of  pub- 
lic worship 

The  't.  4..".,  1  is  needed  in  commerce. 

The  -.',:!  is  slow  but  strong. 

The  r>,  i;.  in,  il  is  to  do  what  makes  one  sorry. 

The  .',    s    M    [n  are  de-pi-, -,1  by  all. 

•  I    K    SELIM. 

2.  I  am  composed  of  '.I  letters,  and  am  the  name 
of  a  famous  exploring  vessel. 

\l\  ',i.  ;. :!  i-  to  devour. 

M  i    :  s,  •_'  i-  demure.!. 

M\  '-\.  t.  r,  is  a  girl's  name. 

My  l.i;.  s  is  a  jewel. 

Mv  I.  '.i.  '•',.  ~>  is  a  girl's  name. 

M  \  .',.  •„'.  s  is  a  snare. 

\l\    ,.  li.  I  i-  a  number 

\l  \  s. .;  :;  Is  a  bei  .-rage. 

M\  ;l.  :,  i-  an  article 

My:),;  is  a  preposition.  F.CIIEKA. 


No.  -.'. 
WOP.D   SCjUAIiE. 

1.  Something  both  tierce  and  cowardly.  'J,  A 
mi xt  nre.  :l  A  king  ol  the  desert.  4.  Something 
prized  by  newspaper  men.  EI-HEM. 


sphere. 

s     \  country  in  Knrope. 

9.  A  river  in  <  'hina. 

The  initial  letters  spell  the  name  of  the  seiene. 
which  describes  all  th,  -e. 

CIIAKLES  E.  and  AilTnrit  TIMMEUMAN. 


AXSWUKS  TO  ITZ/LES  IN  No.  I!>3. 


No.  1. 
No.  S. 


A    R   T 

C    R    E   A  M 

TAR 

M 


New  York. 

S 

A  T  E 

S    T    E    A    M 

E   A  R 

M 


M 

V   A  N 

M    A    .1    OR 

N    o    T 

R 

Xo.  3. 


R 

P    I    T 
R    I    V    E    R 

TEN 
R 

C  auliflowcr. 
A  nemone. 
D  andelion. 
M  arigold. 
U  pas. 
S  unflower. 


C 

R  A   N 

C    A   M    E    L 

N    E  W 

L 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  (Jeorge  Horsfleld.  I.ydia  B.  Penrose.  Annie 
K  11  art  man.  Clara  shields.  Francis  Freeman.  < 'ar- 
rie C.  Howard.  R.  V.  Buckley.  Walter  Pyle.  Sam- 
uel Branson.  Charles  II.  Weigh-.  Jim.,  Daisy  Glea- 
son.  Delia  (ionld,  May  Wilson,  John  Timpson, 
Arahi  Bey.  Mary  D.  ('..  Antonia  Romngna.  Van 
W.,  Alice  "Best,  Jennie  Day,  Alex.  Scott,  E,  I!,  s  , 
Will  lirey.  ICmma  Tollman,  l.oiiis  J'.arstow.  cileiin 
A.  Kidd,  Walter  Morell,  Flora  Pollack.  Jack  and 
Nannie  Pegrani,  Emma  W.  (;..  Max  Babb,  and 
Fred  and  Mamie. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


608 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  FLOWER. 

BY   GEORGE   FOLSOM. 

THE  beautiful  PrincessNogodon  had  a  great  many  noble  suit- 
ors for  her  baud  and  heart.  Ten  had  been  put  oft"  with  gen- 
tle regrets,  when  one  day  a  strange  knight,  handsome  as  Apollo, 
presented  himself  at  the  castle  gate.  He  was  granted  an  audi- 
ence with  the  Princess,  and  his  gentleness  and  manly  bearing 
won  her  favor  at  once.  Fearing  to  give  him  too  much  encour- 
agement at  the  first  meeting,  the  Princess  tried  to  think  of  some 
plan  by  which  she  might  contrive  to  have  him  go  away  with 
the  hope  of  winning  the  prize  at  last. 

At  this  moment  an  attendant  announced  that  there  were  four 
more  cavaliers  at  the  gate.  Begging  the  knight  to  excuse  her, 
the  Princess  gave  her  esquire  orders  to  announce  to  all  the  suit- 
ors that  the  test  of  the  Royal  Maze  should  decide  who  should 
marry  the  Princess  Nogodou. 

There  were  fifteen  paths  to  the  Maze,  one  for  each  suitor,  and 
but  one  led  to  the  centre,  where  blossomed  a  lovely  flower.  The 
knight  who  returned  with  this  flower  would  he  entitled  to  claim 
the  hand  of  the  Princess.  Each  knight  was  to  pick  up  the  let- 
ters which  he  would  find  strewed  along  the  path. 

The  Princess  told  an  attendant  to  hang  the  cage  containing 
her  pet  canary  at  a  certain  path,  and  then  sent  a  message,  in  a 
feigned  handwriting,  bidding  the  favorite  knight  to  select  the 
path  -where  he  heard  sweet  singing.  The  knight  did  so,  and 
returned  bearing  the  flower,  and  the  letters  forming  a  name, 
while  the  other  knights  brought  back  nothing  but  letters,  and 
were  weary  and  disconsolate. 

We  show  the  Maze,  with  its  fifteen  paths.  See  who  can  find 
the  one  leading  to  the  flower.  Pick  up  the  letters  as  you  go, 
and  form  words  with  them  in  the  order  in  which  they  are  found 
m  the  path  traversed. 


RIDDLE. 

I  OPEN  and  shut,  yet  have  no  lid; 
Of  flies  I  often  people  rid  : 
In  summer  I  work,  in  winter  I  rest, 
And  devote  my  time  to  art  with  zest ; 
I  am  found  in  all  countries,  and  bought  with  a  dime; 
Though  a  thousand  years  old,  I  am  still  in  my  prime. 


THE  EGG-DANCE  IN  INDIA. 

THE  Indian  egg-dance  is  not,  as  one  might  expect  from  the 
name  given  it,  a  dance  upon  these  fragile  objects.     It  is 
executed  in  this  wise: 

The  dancer,  dressed  in  a  corsage  and  very  short  skirt,  carries 
a  willow  wheel  of  moderate  diameter  fastened  horizontally 
upon  the  top  of  her  head.  Around  this  wheel  threads  are 
fastened  equally  distant  from  each  other,  and  at  the  end  of 
each  of  these  threads  is  a  slip-noose,  which  is  kept  open  by  a 
glass  bead.  Thus  equipped,  the  young  girl  comes  toward  the 
spectators  with  a  basket  full  of  eggs,  which  she  passes  around 
for  inspection,  to  prove  that  they  are  real,  and  not  imita- 
tions. 

The  music  strikes  up  a  jerky  monotonous  strain,  and  the 
dancer  begins  to  whirl  around  with  great  rapidity.  Then  seiz- 
ing an  egg,  she  puts  it  in  one  of  the  slip-nooses,  and  with  a 
quirk  motion  throws  it  from  her  in  such  a  way  as  to  draw  the 
knot  tight.  The  swift  turning  of  the  dancer  produces  a  cen- 
trifugal force  which  stretches  the  thread  out  straight,  like  a  ray 
shooting  from  the  circumference  of  the  circle.  One  after  an- 
other tin'  eggs  are  thrown  out  in  these  slip-nooses,  until  they 
make  a  horizontal  aureole  or  halo  above  the  dancer's  head. 
Then  the  dance  becomes  more  rapid — so  rapid,  in  fact,  that  it 
is  difficult  to  distinguish  the  features  of  the  girl. 

The  moment  is  critical  ;  the  least  false  step,  the  least  irreg- 
ularity of  time,  and  the  eggs  dash  agaiust  each  other.  But 
how  can  the  dance  be  stopped  1  There  is  hut  one  way ;  that 
is  to  remove  the  eggs  in  the  way  in  which  they  have  been  put 
in  place.  This  operation  is  by  far  the  more  delicate  of  the  two. 
It  is  necessary  that  the  dancer,  by  a  single  motion,  exact  and 
unerring,  should  take  hold  of  the  egg  and  remove  it  from  the 
noose.  A  single  false  motion  of  the  hand,  the  least  interfer- 
ence with  one  of  the  threads,  and  the  general  arrangement 
is  suddenly  broken,  and  the  whole  performance  disastrously 
ended. 

At  last  all  the  eggs  are  successfully  removed  ;  then  the  dancer 
stops,  and  without  seeming  in  the  least  dizzied  by  the  dance 
of  twenty-five  or  thirty  minutes,  advances  with  a  firm  step  to 
the  spectators,  and  presents  them  with  the  eggs,  which  are  im- 
mediately broken  in  a  flat  dish  to  prove  that  there  is  110  trick 
in  the  performance. 


THE    FAST    EXPRESS    MEETS    WITH    AN    ACCIDENT. 


THE  SMASH. 


HARPERS! 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED  ,,WEEKLY. 


VOL.  iv.— xo.  1%. 


Tuesday,  July  :il,  i 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  A:    MROTIIKRS.  X.:w 


I'KK'E    FIVE    CENTS. 


\    HAKI-IK  &   P.ROTIIKKS. 


Jl.Mi  IHT  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE    WEDDI.Ni;    PAHTY.— FKOM  A  PHOTOGRAPH  TAKEN  IMMEDIATELY  AFTEK  THE 


GENERAL  TOM  THUMB. 

BY  ELIOT  McCOUMICK. 

OVER  forty  years  ago  a  lady  from  Waterford,  New 
York,  who  was  visiting  Hartford,  Connecticut,  told 
this  bit  of  experience  to  her  friends  there: 

"When  I  was  hi  Bridgeport  last  week, "she  said,  "I 
saw  the  tinest,  funniest  little  fellow  in  the  world.  The 
friends  whom  I  was  visiting  wanted  me  to  go  to  a  chil- 
dren's school  to  see  the  smallest  boy  that  ever  attended 


any  school.  I  went,  and  the  school  -  mistress  called  up 
'  Charlie,'  when  a  mite  of  a  fellow  came  and  stood  on  her 
held-out  hands  and  recited  his  letters." 

This  little  fellow  was  Charles  Sherwood  Stratton,  after- 
ward known  as  General  Tom  Thumb,  and  the  story  gives 
a  good  idea  of  his  size  and  the  impression  he  made  on 
people  when  he  first  came  before  the  public.  It  was  in 
November,  1842,  that  Mr.  Barnum  discovered  him  at  his 
home  in  Bridgeport,  Connecticut,  and  a  few  weeks  later 
that  he  made  his  appearance  in  New  York.  ''He  was 


610 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


not  two  feet  high,"  says  Mr.  Baruum;  "he  weighed  less 
than  sixteen  pounds,  and  was  the  smallest  child  I  ever 
saw  that  could  walk  alone.  After  some  coaxing  he  was 
induced  to  talk  with  me,  and  he  told  me  that  he  was  the 
son  of  Sherwood  E.  Stratton,  and  that  his  own  name  was 
diaries  S.  Stratton.  After  seeing  him  and  talking  with 
him  I  at  once  determined  to  secure,  his  services  from  his 
parents,  and  to  exhibit  him  in  public." 

Hereupon,  however,  occurred  a  difficulty.  The  child 
was  very  small,  it  was  true,  being  not  much  higher  than 
a  man's  knee.  But  then  he  was  only  five  years  old,  and 
if  that  were  known  people  might  refuse  to  believe  that 
he  was  a  dwarf.  Accordingly,  when  he  was  advertised 
in  New  York,  six  years  had  been  added  to  his  age,  several 
inches  subtracted  from  his  height,  and  the  place  of  his 
birth  changed  from  Bridgeport  to  England.  Here  is  the 
announcement  that  appeared  in  the  Courier  n  nil  Enquirer 
of  December  17,  1842: 

"General  Tom  Thumb  was  born  in  Lancashire,  Eng- 
land, and  arrived  in  this  country  in  the  steamer  Colinnliin 
a  short  time  since.  He  is  eleven  years  of  age,  weighs  fif- 
teen pounds  two  ounces,  and  is  exactly  twenty-two  inches 
high.  Beyond  all  question  he  is  the  greatest  dwarf  of 
whom  we  have  any  account,  being  smaller  than  Sir  Jef- 
frey Hudson,  who  was  accidentally  sewed  up  in  a  pye  to 
the  amusement  of  his  friends,  and  alongside  of  whom  Ma- 
jor Stevens  declares  himself  to  be  a  giant.  Of  a  verity  he 
is  the  greatest  curiosity  we  have  ever  seen.  .  .  .No  de- 
scription can  possibly  enable  the  reader  to  form  any  idea 
of  the  diminutiveness  of  this  little  gentleman. .  .  .We 
shrewdly  suspect  that  his  cane  is  no  more  or  less  than 
the  handle  of  a  steel  pen  with  a  button  on  the  largest  end 
of  it." 

The  General  at  once  made  a  great  sensation.  People 
who  are  middle-aged  now  recollect  with  what  delight 
they  went  to  his  entertainments  when  children,  listened 
to  his  songs,  enjoyed  his  quick  wit,  and  admired  the  pre- 
sents he  received.  For  a  year  he  charmed  the  children 
and  interested  the  grown  people  of  New  York,  and  then 
Mr.  Barnum  determined  to  take  him  to  England. 

Here  his  success  was  even  greater  than  at  home.  A 
house  was  hired  in  one  of  the  fashionable  neighborhoods, 
cards  were  sent  out  to  the  nobility,  and  in  a  few  days  ele- 
gant carriages  blocked  the  street  in  front  of  the  door,  while 
crowds  of  distinguished  people  thronged  the  drawing- 
rooms  for  a  glimpse  of  the  little  General.  Mr.  Barnum 
even  managed  to  let  the  Queen  hear  of  him,  and  in  a  few 
days  he  was  summoned  to  Buckingham  Palace. 

An  older  person  might  have  been  frightened  by  the  im- 
portance of  the  occasion  and  the  elegance  of  the  com- 
pany, but  the  General  was  only  a  child,  and  was  too  used 
to  crowds  by  this  time  to  show  any  shyness  or  fear.  He 
talked  to  the  Queen  as  if  she  were  his  mother,  and  de- 
lighted all  the  royal  household  by  his  bright  manner  and 
clever  speech.  Her  Majesty  presented  him  with  a  beau- 
tiful gold  watch  and  chain,  and  other  gifts  were  made  to 
him  by  the  different  members  of  the  family.  . 

When  it  became  known  that  he  had  visited  court  the 
interest  of  the  public  increased.  Entertaining  stories 
were  everywhere  told  of  his  cleverness  and  wit.  On  one 
occasion,  it  was  related,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  came  into 
the  hall  while  the  General  was  representing  the  character 
of  Napoleon  Bonaparte.  Walking  up  to  the  platform, 
the  old  Duke  pleasantly  inquired, 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  General  ?" 

The  little  fellow,  who  had  been  pacing  up  and  down 
the  stage,  lost  in  thought,  looked  up  from  underneath  his 
eneked  hat  and  recognized  the  Duke. 

"I  was  thinking,"  he  said,  quickly,  "of  the  loss  of  Wa- 
terloo." 

One  can  get  a  good  idea  of  the  excitement  that  prevailed 
by  reading  what  was  said  at  the  time.  Haydon.  an  artist 
who  was  exhibiting  his  pictures  in  the  same  building,  and 


to  whose  exhibition  no  one  came,  tells  us  that  in  one  week 
twelve  thousand  persons  paid  to  see  Tom  Thumb,  while 
only  one  hundred  and  thirty-three  and  one-half  came  to 
see  his  show.  So  great  was  the  enthusiasm  over  the  little 
General  that  he  is  said  to  have  made  half  a  million  of 
dollars  (Hit  of  his  two  years'  European  tour. 

In  18(53  Tom  Thumb's  public  career  reached  its  highest 
point  in  his  marriage  to  Lavinia  Warren  Bump.  This 
yomi!_r  lady,  who  was  also  a  dwarf,  had  been  discovered 
by  Mr.  Barnum  the  year  previous  at  her  home  in  Middle- 
borough,  Massachusetts,  and  placed  on  exhibition  at  the 
Museum  in  New  York.  She  was  then  about  twenty-two 
years  old,  and  quite  attractive  in  her  personal  appearance. 
Crowds  flocked  to  the  Museum  to  see  her.  and  the  excite- 
ment rivalled  that  caused  by  Tom  Thumb  twenty  years 
before.  The  General  himself  became  interested,  and  not 
unnaturally  formed  the  idea  of  making  her  his  wife.  Hap- 
pily Miss  Warren,  as  she  was  called,  listened  favorably  to 
his  suit,  and  in  a  short  time  the  little  couple  had  become 
engaged.  Their  wedding  was  arranged  by  Mr.  Barnum 
on  a  scale  of  great  splendor,  and  many  who  are  yet  young 
remember  the  sensation  which  it  caused.  New  York  had 
fewer  sensations  then  than  now,  and  the  marriage  of  Gen- 
eral Tom  Thumb  was  quite  a  wonderful  event. 

On  the  10th  of  February.  IMi.'i.  the  ceremony  was  per- 
formed at  Grace  Church.  New  York.  A  large  and  fash- 
ionable company  was  present,  no  one  being  admitted  who 
had  not  a  card  of  invitation:  it  is  said,  indeed,  that  as  much 
as  fifty  dollars  was  bid  for  a  ticket,  of  which,  however, 
none  were  sold.  The  best  man  was  the  rival  dwarf,  Com- 
modore Nutt,  and  the  bridemaid  Miss  Minnie  Warren.  La- 
vinia's  sister.  After  the  wedding  a  reception  was  held  at 
the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  and  the  little  couple  went  off  on 
their  bridal  tour. 

They  have  since  exhibited  both  in  this  country  and  Eu- 
rope, but  with  their  marriage  public  interest  in  a  hii'n'e 
measure  died  out,  and  of  late  years  little  has  been  seen  or 
heard  of  them.  On  the  15th  of  July  Tom  Thumb  sudden- 
ly died.  He  had  grown  since  he  was  first  exhibited  to  be 
forty  inches  in  height,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  weigh- 
ed about  seventy  pounds. 


COUSIN  TOM'S  WEDDING. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  JfX. 

IT  was  to  be  in  the  church,  with  music  and  flowers,  and 
my  brother  Claude  and  I  were  to  walk  up  the  middle 
aisle  and  lead  the  procession. 

"Now  you  must  both  put  on  your  best  behavior,"  said 
mother,  after  we  had  worried  ourselves  into  our  new 
clothes  on  the  all-important  night;  then  she  kissed  us  just 
as  if  we'd  been  going  to  bed,  and  sent  us  off  to  the  church 
an  hour  before  the  time. 

We  found  the  sexton  just  opening  the  doors,  and  he  let 
us  go  round  with  him  while  he  lighted  up,  and  then  I  pro- 
posed that  we  should  stand  outside  and  watch  the  people 
come. 

"I  wonder  if  Cousin  Tom  feels  nervous,"  said  Claude, 
as  we  walked  down  the  steps  under  the  awning.  "I 
shouldn't  think  he  would,  though,  for  you  know  doc- 
tors—  But  I  say,  Bert,  what's  the  matter  down  the  street 
there  ?  See  all  that  crowd  ?  Let's  run  and  find  out." 

"Come  on,"  I  cried;  "I'll  beat  you  there, "and  forget- 
ting all  about  our  good  clothes  and  "best  behavior,'  we 
both  started  off  down  the  block. 

"Oh,  somebody's  been  run  over,  or  something!"  I  ex- 
claimed, as  I  won  the  race  and  found  a  lot  of  people  bend- 
ing over  the  form  of  a  man  lying  on  the  grass  in  front  of 
the  Baptist  church. 

We  both  stood  still  for  a  minute,  and  I  was  trying  to 
listen  to  what  a  gentleman  next  to  me  was  telling  a  police- 
man, when  Claude  pulled  me  by  the  sleeve  and  whispered 


JULY  31,  1883. 


IIARPETC'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


611 


that  it  might  be  the  very  case  Cousin  Tom,  who  had  just 
graduated  at  the  Medical  School,  was  waiting  for. 

"  Let's  tell  him  about  it !"  I  cried.  "  (juick.  before  ili.-y 
get  somebody  else:"  and  then  we  both  tore  off  t<>  his  lodg- 
ings, around  the  corner,  and  pulled  the  bell  as  if  the  house 
w:is  a  lire. 

I  tell  you.  the  girl  came  to  the  door  in  a  hurry,  and 
without  wailing  for  her  to  announce  us  we  bolted  up 
stairs  to  Cousin  Tom's  room,  and  rushed  in  to  find  him 
just  putting  011  his  white  satin  neck  lie. 

"Oh.  do  come  quick!"  we  both  fairly  shouted. 
"  such  a— 

"\Vhy.  boys,  what's  the  matter?"  he  exclaimed,  mak- 
ing a  muddle  of  his  cravat.  "  lias  Alice  fainted,  or  the 
dressmaker  forgotten  to  send  her  dress  home,  or  what  .'" 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Claude.  ''There's  a  man  hurt,  and  an 
au  fill  crowd,  and 

"<(>uick.  how  far  from  here  ?"  interrupted  Cousin  Tom, 
leaving  the  two  ends  of  his  tie  hanging,  and  snatching  his 
pea-jacket.  "  I  can  spare  just  twenty  minutes." 

"  \Vliy,  it's  only  around  the  corner,  in  front  of  the  Bap- 
tist, church,"  I  replied,  dancing  around  the  n i  in  great 

exciiemeiit  :   and  then  we  all  three  need  oil'. 

"Where  is  lie,  hoys?"  cried  Cousin  Tom.  and  Claude 
pointed  inside  the  railing  that  ran  in  front  of  the  church. 
and  against  which,  strange  to  say,  nobody  \\as  leaning. 

Then,  not  waiting  to  hunt  up  the  u'ate,  our  cousin,  who 

pas  a  great  strapping  fellow,  shouldered  his  way  through 

,the  crowd,  and  without  pay  ing  any  attention  to  t  lie  ell'orts 
some  of  the  people  made  to  hold  him  back,  he  placed  his 
hands  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence  to  vault  over 

The  next  instant  he  gave  a  spring  backward  instead  of 
forward,  and  fell  against  Claude,  who  of  course  fell  against 
me,  and  we  all  three  went  down  one  after  another  like  a 
row  of  bricks,  while  the  people  set  up  such  a  yell  that  \  on 
might  have  thought  they  had  all  turned  into  wild  Indians 
on  the  war  path. 

Being  hoys,  and  quite  used  to  hard  knocks,  neither 
Claude  nor  I  was  hurt,  and  we  sprang  up  as  lively  as 
ever  when  Cousin  Tom  was  lifted  off  of  us.  But  there 
was  not  much  spring  about  him,  and  we  were  awfully 
frightened  when  we  found  that  he  couldn't  even  speak. 

Then  they  explained  the  whole  thing  to  us,  which  \\as 
something  like   this:   there  was  an   electric  light   in   front 
:of  the  store  next  the  church,  and  in  some  way  the  st  nil' 
the  electric  lluid  or  whatever  it  is — had  got  off  the  track, 
or  the  wires,  and  run  into  the  fence,  and  so  whoever  touch 
ed  it  got  a  most  tremendous  shock.      That  was  what  was 
'the  matter  with  the  man  inside,  and  the  crowd  had  tried 
to  warn  Cousin  Tom.  hut  he  was  too  excited  about  getting 
an  interesting  case  to  listen. 

"  ( )h.  if  he's  killed,  it's  all  our  fault  for  telling  him  about 
it!"  moaned  Claude. 

"  And  he  was  going  to  be  married  in  half  an  hour,"  I 
added,  despairingly.  "And  Miss  Lord  '11  be  in  the  church 
waiting  for  him,  and  when  he  don't  come  she  may  have  a 
fit  or  something,  and  oh,  Claude,  how  can  we  tell  her  '" 

By  this.time  they  had  picked  Cousin  Tom  lip  and  car- 
ried him  into  a  drug  store  a  few  doors  off.      They  told  us 
he  was  only  stunned,  and  would  probably  be  able  to  sit 
up  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour.      As  he  hadn't  lived  in 
itown  a  week  yet,  nobody  in  the  crowd  knew  who  he  was, 
i  and  so  the  burden  of  carrying  the  dreadful  news  to  the 
wedding  party  fell  upon  Claude  and  me. 

"It's  live  minutes  to  eight  now,"  announced  my  bro- 
ther, nervously,  as  having  left  word  with  the  druggist 
that  we  would  soon  be  back  with  friends  and  a  carriage, 
we  hurried  off  to  the  Episcopal  church.  "  Cousin  Tom 
was  to  be  in  the  vestry  by  this  time,  and,  oh  my!  won't 
it  be  awful  to  have  Miss  Lord  walk  up  the  aisle  on  her 
father's  arm.  and  then  find  nobody  to  marry  her  ?" 

"But,  Claude,"!  proposed,  a  bright  idea  suddenly  strik- 
ing me.  ''if  we  can  only  get  to  the  church  soon  enough 


to  see  her  drive  up.  we  can  tell  her  then,  and  have  the 
coachman  keep  right  on  to  the  drug  store." 

"The  very  thing:"  cried  Claude.      "Let's  run  for  it." 

And  run  we  did,  but.  alas!  arrived  at  the  church  just  in 
time  to  see  the  bride's  carriage  drive  away  from  the 
awning — empty. 

\Ve  could  hear  the  organ  playing  and  the  people  whis- 
pering that  the  procession  would  soon  begin  to  move  to- 
ward the  altar. 

"Oh,  why  don't  they  make  sure  Cousin  Tom's  here 
first  ?"  I  exclaimed,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Perhaps  they  will."  returned  (  Maude.  "  At  any  rate 
they  ought  to  wait  for  us  to  lead  oil':  but.  stop,  I've  got  a 
plan,  and  though  it's  a  kind  of  desperate  one.  it  '11  save 
Miss  Lord  having  a  scene  before  everybody.  I'll — "  and 
he  spoke  the  rest  very  softly  in  my  ear. 

"Why.  Claude,  dare  you  '."  I  cried,  under  my  breath. 
"  And  do  you  know  how  to  do  it  j" 

"  Yes.  I  noticed  tin-  place  when  u e  were  in  here  with 
the  «.c\ioii.  Now  do  you  think  you  can  get  up  close  to 
MI-.V  Lord  l»l,, re  1  count  twenty  slow  I  \  ." 

1  nodded  and  hurried  into  the  church,  leaving  Claude 
to  take  u]>  his  station  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  vestibule. 
The  procession  was  evidently  waiting  for  us.  and  as  fast  as 
I  could  I  sqiteey.ed  a  u  ay  through  the  crowd  to  take  my 
place  in  front  of  the  bride.  She  smiled  when  she  caught 
si  j  III  of  me.  and  put  out  her  hand.  Then  just  as  I  took  it 
ever\  light  in  the  church  went  out,  and  I  knew  Claude  had 
succeeded  in  his  plan  of  turning  oil'  t  he  gas. 

"l>on't  be  frightened.  Miss  Lord,"  I  whispered,  slill 
keeping  hold  of  her  baud,  "  but  come  out  with  me  to  the 
carriage,  because  Cousin  Tom's  hurt,  but,  not  very  bad, 
only  lie  can't  stand  up  long  enough  to  be  married  yet, 
and —  l!ut  I'll  take  you  to  him  right  away." 

Well,  she  didn't  scream  nor  say  she  was  going  to  faint, 
but  just  held  on  to  my  hand  tight,  and  let  me  lead  her  out 
ill  the  dark.  We  found  Claude  on  the  sidewalk,  holding 
the  door  of  the  carriage  open  :  and  ordering  the  coachman 
(who  looked  as  if  he  thought  we  were  eloping  with  the 
bridei  to  drive  to  the  drug  store.  We  all  three  got  in,  and 
were  off  before  the  people  in  the  church  had  a  chance  to 
think  of  anything  else  but  the  darkness  into  which  they 
had  so  suddenly  been  plunged. 

"But— but  did  the  electric  lluid  put  out  the  lights  in 
church  ?"  asked  Miss  Lord,  after  we  had  explained  to  her 
about  Cousin  Tom's  shock. 

"Oh  no;  I  turned  off  the  gas,"  said  Claude,  promptly. 
"Don't  you  think  it  was  a  good  way  to  keep  people  from 
staring  at  you  and  gossiping  when  they  found  the  groom 
didn't  come?" 

"Yes,  I  see  now,  and  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged 
for  your  thoughtfulness;  but  what  will  papa  and  mamma 
think  has  become  of  me?" 

"That's  so!"  I  exclaimed.  "We  forgot  all  about  that 
part  of  it.  Stop  the  carriage,  and  I'll  run  back:"  which  I 
did.  and  found  the  church  lighted  up  again,  a  bigger 
crowd  than  ever  inside,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lord  rushing 
about  in  every  direction  in  search  of  their  daughter. 

I  was  a  little  frightened  at  first,  but  remembering  how 
much  the  bride  had  been  spared  by  our  plan,  I  walked 
boldly  up  to  the  "distracted  parents,"  and  began  to  ex- 
plain the  whole  thing.  This  took  some  time,  but  I  told 
the  story  as  quick  as  I  could,  and  I  had  scarcely  finished 
when  back  came  the  carriage  with  Cousin  Tom  and  Miss 
Lord  both  in  it. 

I  jumped  as  if  I  had  seen  a  ghost,  and  indeed  Tom  looked 
like  one,  but  declared  that  he  was  every  bit  strong  enough 
to  go  through  with  the  ceremony.  Miss  Lord  was  already 
in  her  mother's  arms,  and  I  was  awfully  afraid  we'd  have 
a  scene,  after  all,  but  luckily  everybody  thought  it  was 
because  the  gas  had  gone  out,  and  in  ten  minutes  they 
were  safely  married,  and  nobody  out  of  the  family  the 
wiser. 


CIS 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  HOSPICE  OF  ST.  BERNARD. 

BY  KATE  VANZAXDT. 

VWAY  up  among  the  loftiest  of  the  snow-clad  Alpine 
mountains  stands  the  Hospice  of  St.  Bernard.  This 
is  the  good  saint  who,  if  the  legend  tells  us  truly,  was 
bom  at  the  little  village  of  Menthon,  in  the  upper  Alps, 
and  who  thought  that  he  could  serve  God  better  by 
building  here  a  monastery,  so  high  and  so  removed  from 
the  world  that  he  and  his  followers  might  live  safe  from 
temptation,  spending  their  lives  in  prayer  and  holy  think- 
ing, and  in  helping  travellers  whose  business  led  them 
through  this  dangerous  region. 

This  is  the,  highest  winter  dwelling  in  all  the  upper  Alps. 
Elsewhere  the  hardy  Swiss  come  when  the  spring  sunshine 
begins  to  warm  the  earth,  bringing  their  flocks  with  them. 
but  at  the  first  whistling  of  the  autumn  winds  back  they  go 
into  their  sheltered  valleys.  Only  the  good  brothers  of  the 
Monastery  of  St.  Bernard  remain,  holding  their  place  here 
and  on  the  Simplon,  keeping' a  sharp  watch  day  and  night, 
and  ready  always  to  expose  their  lives  if  they  can  succor 
some  wayfarer  whose  struggle  with  the  difficulties  of  the 
mountain  pass  has  worn  out  his  strength  and  exposed 
him  to  a  terrible  death  from  cold  and  hunger. 

The  society  connected  with  the  monastery  has  at  pre- 
sent about  forty  members.  It  was  founded  in  962,  since 
when  the  regular  brotherhood  has  consisted  of  from  ten  to 
fifteen  Augustinian  monks.  To  these  may  be  added  a 
number  of  lay  brothers,  who  attend  to  certain  charitable 
and  religious  work  in  various  parts  of  the  adjoining  val- 
ley. A  word,  too.  must  be  said  for  the  good  and  faithful 
dogs,  which,  though  their  names  are  not  registered  on 
the  roll  of  the  society,  play  a  part  that  110  human  being 
could  fill. 

Some  three  weeks  ago,  when  we  were  travelling  through 
Switzerland,  climbing  great  peaks  and  clambering  over 
billowy  frozen  glaciers,  we  met  one  of  the  good  Brothers 
of  St.  Bernard.  He  was  a  young  and  broad-shouldered 
gentleman,  who  had  recently  been  sent  from  the  Hospice 
of  St.  Bernard  to  that  on 
the  Simplon.  From  him 
we  learned  the  ways  of 
the  brotherhood  and  some- 
thing of  the  life  they  live 
during  the  winter  days, 
when  only  the  visit  of  a. 
traveller  or  the  rescue  of 
one  from  a  terrible  death 
breaks  the  long  and  weary 
monotony. 

There  are  nine  months 
of  winter  on  the  St.  Ber- 
nard, and  nearly  as  many 
on  the  other  Alpine  passes. 
The  snow  covers  the  land- 
scape for  miles  around, 
the  wind  whistles  fiercely 
through  the  great  upright 
peaks,  and  all  the  deso 
lateness  of  stormy  skies 
shrouds  the  poor  lonely 
hospice  in  terrible  gloom. 

The  present  massive  building  dates  away  back  from 
the  sixteenth  century.  There  are  two  buildings.  One 
contains  the  church,  the  rooms  of  the  brothers,  and- nu- 
merous apartments  for  the  reception  of  travellers ;  the  oth- 
er and  smaller  is  called  the  Hotel  de  St.  Louis,  and  serves 
for  a  refuge  in  case  of  fire,  and  as  a  granary,  and  a  lodging 
for  the  poorer  class  of  wayfarers. 

All  travellers,  come  they  upon  any  day  or  any  hour, 
are  welcome  at  the  hospice.  On  arriving  each  is  received 
and  welcomed  by  a  brother  clad  in  black  robes,  with  the 
cross  embroidered  on  his  breast,  who  sets  forth  what  the 


house  has  to  furnish,  or  who  offers  a  neat  room  where 
the  visitor  may  rest  and  lodge  so  long  as  he  chooses  to 
remain. 

No  money  is  ever  received  by  the  brothers  from  the 
traveller  who  rests  or  refreshes  himself  at  the  Hospice  of 
St.  Bernard.  If  he  will  he  may  place  a  deposit  in  (he 
little  box  which  bears  the  inscription  "For  the  Poor''; 
but  no  money  is  demanded  and  none  received  by  the 
brothers  themselves. 

Yet  the  monastery  is  not  rich.  In  olden  times  it  was, 
but  of  late  years  people  have  been  less  liberal  toward  it. 
It  is  said  that  of  late  years  nearly  twenty  thousand 
travellers  have  been  accommodated  every  year,  but  that 
they  have  scarcely  left  behind  them  money  enough  to  pay 
for  the  entertainment  of  one  thousand.  But  that  some 
have  been  generous  we  know  from  the  pictures  that  hangi 
upon  the  walls,  and  from  the  valuable  objects  that  adorn 
the  church  and  the  various  rooms. 

The    provisions   for    the   hospice   are   mostly   brought 
from  Aosta,  on    the   Italian   slope   of  the   Alps.      Some- 
times twenty  horses  are  daily  employed  in  the  transport : 
of  articles  in  the  way  of  food  and  of  fuel  for  the  use  of  j 
the  hospice.      The   latter,  of   which   vast    quantities   are 
consumed  in  winter,  is  brought  from  the  Val  de  Ferret, I 
twelve  miles  distant. 

'From  our  good  friend  the  brother  who  explained  to  us 
so  much  of  the  life  .1  ml  I  be  purpose  of  the  noble  band  who 
spend  their  days,  or  such  part  of  them  as  their  health  is 
spared,  at  the  two  hospices,  we  obtained  a  photograph  of 
himself  and  his  associates,  and  also  of  some  of  the  noble 
dogs  that  share  their  labors.  From  these  photographs  our 
artist  has  drawn  the  accompanying  picture. 

The  original  stock  of  the.  St.  Bernard  dogs  is  believed 
to  have  come  from  the  Spanish  Pyrenees.  This  genuine 
old  stock  is  now  extinct,  but  there  are  many  noble  fellows 
to  succeed  them,  who,  if  their  lineage  is  a  little  doubtful, 
are  certainly  as  intelligent  and  faithful  as  their  predeces- 
sors. 

Some  of  the  four-footed  heroes  have  a  record  of  which 


SEARCHING  FOR  TRAVELLERS  LOST  IN  THE  SNOW. 


JULY  31,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


613 


any  human  being 
nii;rlit  lit-  proud.  One 
lias  saved  three  or  four 
lives,  another  six,  an- 
other scarcely  less  than 
a  dozen;  yet  the}*  wear 
no  decorations,  and 
their  names  are  not 
known  to  the  world, 
fliey  go  about  with 
their  soft  intelligent 
eyes,  intent  upon  their 
duty  when  duty  calls, 
but  at  other  times  gen- 
tle and  playful  as  chil- 
dren, demanding  no- 
thing hut  a  caress,  or  a 
piece  of  meat  if  there  is 
one  to  be  spared  from 
the  table  where  their 
masters  are  dining. 

The  following  is  one  of  the  latest  instances  of  the  wis- 
dom and  devotion  shown  by  these  dogs  :  A  short  time  ago 
Father  Nicholas,  a  monk  of  the  Grande  Chart  reuse,  once 
tide  de-camp  to  the  Czar,  was  returning  from  Fourvoii  ie  to 
liis  monastery,  followed  by  a  fine  St.  Bernard  dog.  to  which 
lie  was  great!  y  attached.  Instead  of  keeping  to  t  lie  highway, 
he  took  a  foot-path  which  runs  along  the  left  hank  of  the 
river  (luirs,  which  is  thereabouts  very  steep.  As  he 
walked  he  read  his  prayer-book,  and  being  intent  on  his 
devotions,  lie  made  a  false  step,  and  falling  down  the 
precipice  his  course  was  not  stopped  until  he  reached— un- 
conscious and  terribly  bruised  — the  edge  of  the  stream. 
The  dog  followed,  and,  as  is  supposed,  tried  to  rouse  him. 
Not  succeeding,  he  returned  to  the  foot-path,  and  did  his 
best  to  attract  the  attention  of  two  shepherds  who  hap- 
pened to  be  passing;  but  alarmed  by  the  mastiffs  manner, 
md  thinking  him  mad,  they  ran  away  as  fast  as  their  legs 
could  carry  them. 

The  next  day  the  dog  presented  himself  at  the  mon- 
astery, and  the  monks,  thinking  from  his  appearance 
that  he  was  hungry,  offered  him  food.  But  the  animal 
refused  to  eat,  and  by  his  plaintive  barkings  and  gestures 
did  his  best  to  tell  the  monks  that  something  was  wrong. 
In  the  end  some  of  them  decided  to  follow  him,  and  the 
dog,  with  many  signs  of  delight,  led  the  way  to  the  place 
where  he  had  left  his  master.  When  he  reached  the  part 
of  the  river-hank  whence  Father  Nicholas  had  fallen  he 
began  to  bark,  and  the  monk,  who  had  by  this  time  re- 
covered consciousness,  was  able  to  utter  a  feeble  shout. 
When  his  rescuers,  preceded  by  the  mastiff,  reached  him, 
they  found  him  lying  with  his  feet  in  the  stream,  and  quite 
unable  to  move.  With  the  help  of  the  shepherds,  whom 
the  barkings  and  shoutings  had  drawn  to  the  spot,  they 
contrived  to  drag  him  to  the  top  of  the  precipice  and  carry 
him  to  the  monastery.  The  mastiff  remained  by  the  bed- 
side of  his  master,  whom  his  intelligence  had  saved  from 
a  frightful  death,  until  he  recovered. 

Sometimes  these  brave  dogs  fail  to  discover  a  traveller 
until  the  terrible  cold  of  the  mountains  has  done  its  work, 
and  no  effort  will  bring  him  back  to  life.  Then  the  monks 
bring  the  body  and  place  it  in  a  small  building  called 
the  Morgue.  Here  it  will  remain  without  decaying,  for 
the  cold  is  so  great  that  the  process  can  not  go  on.  and 
years  afterward  persons  have  recognized  their  friends 
lost  on  the  terrible  Alpine  heights. 

No  traveller  can  visit  the  Hospice  of  St.  Bernard  with- 
out a  feeling  of  respect  and  admiration  for  the  heroic  and 
devoted  band  who  have  charge  of  it.  When  they  go  to 
take  their  places  there  they  know  that  within  a  certain 
time  their  health  must  fail,  and  that,  while  still  young  in 
years,  they  must  return,  old  and  broken,  to  the  valley  to 
wait  for  death. 


•THE    FAIRY    PLACE    WHKKK    D.V1SIKS    <;KEW." 


THE  LITTLE  GIRL  OF  THE  "FRESH-AIR  FUND." 

BY  MARY  D.  BRINK 

T'WAS  little  she  knew  of  the  sweet  green  grass, 
With  its   wonderful   wc:iltli   of  clover. 
Which,  far  outside  of  the-  cily's  walls. 

Was   spreading  the   liroail   tields  over. 
Yet  blue  her  eves  as  the  summer  sUics, 

And  as  sunny  her  tangled  hair 
As  the  goldenest    sunbeam   ever  sent 
To  lie  on  the  earth  so  fair. 

What  wonder  she  opened   her  lilue  eyes  wide 

When  she  learned,  one   happy  da\  , 
That   she  and   many  a   child   beside' 

Were  to  travel  far  away, 
•'To  the  fairy  place  where  daisies  urew. 

And  the  streets  were  soft    and   itrccii." 
And  her  little  heart    o'ertlow.'d    for  joy 

Of  the  glad  things  yet   unseen. 

Old  Farmer  Jones  on  the  platform  stood 

When  the  train  came  in  at   last. 
And  the  little  "waif"  who  was  sent  to  him 

He  clasped  in  his  strong  arms  t'a-l. 
"For  it's  never  ;i  chick  nor  a  child  have  I," 

Said  he  to  the  agent   then, 
"An'  just  as  true  as  the  heavens  are  blue 

I'll  be  good  to  this  gal.     Amen!" 

And  lie  bore  her  home  to  the  shady  farm. 

And  he  "turned  her  out  to  grass," 
As  he  merrily  said.     And  the  sun  and  breeze 

Made  free  with  the  little  lass. 
And  kissed  her  cheeks  till  they  blushed  as  red 

As  the  reddest  rose  that  grew. 
And  innocent  mischief  peeped  from  out 

The  once  sad  eyes  of  blue. 

"Dear  friend."  says  a  letter  from  Farmer  Jones, 

"There's  no  two  ways  about  it. 
This  farm's  got  used  to  the  wee  gal's  laugh, 

An',  in  fact,  can't  thrive  without  it. 
Why,  bless  your  soul!  it  would  do  ye  good 

To  watch  the  chick  each  day 
A-turnin'  the  old  place  upside  down 

Along  of  her  happy  play. 

"An'  me  an'  my  wife  we  don't  see  how 

There's  anything  else  to  do 
But  just  hold  on  to  the  leetle  gal, 

If  it's  all  the  same  to  you. 
An'  I  reckon  the  blessed  child  that,  lives 

With  the  angels  in  the  skies 
Won't  mind  if  the  little  new  one  stays 

To  wipe  the  tears  from  our  eyes. 

"An'  the  mother  this  gal  has  lost  will  flud 

My  pet  in  the  angel  land, 
An' I  make  no  doubt  but  they'll  both  be  glad 

As  they  watch  us,  hand  in  hand. 
So,  now,  whatever  there  is  to  do, 

Just  write  it  fur  me  to  sign, 
An'  God's  blessin'  rest  on  the  'Fresh-Air  Fund' — 

Your  work  as  well  as  mine." 


6U 


HAEPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  ADVENTUKES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.* 

BY     oVIIlS.    "VV.    J.    MAYS, 

A I  T1IOR  OF  "PRINCESS  IDLEWAYS,"  "PHIL'S   FAIRIES,"   ETC. 


CHAPTER  III. 

LEO  had  heard  of  kobolds  and  gnomes  and  elves,  but 
in  all  his  wanderings  over  the  Lazybones  estate  in  the 
brightness  of  noon,  the  dewy  dawn,  or  dusky  eve,  or  later 
when  the  moon  bathed  every  shrub  in  silver,  he  had  nev- 
er so  much  as  caught  a  glimpse  of  fairy  folk. 

Here,  however,  was  a  real  elf — a  most  peculiar  per- 
son. He  was  extremely  small,  thin,  and  wiry,  about 
two  and  a  half  inches  high,  and  his  costume  a  cross  be- 
tween that  of  a  student  or  professor  and  that  of  a  miner, 
for  on  his  bushy  head  was  a  miner's  cap  with  a  lantern, 
and  on  his  back  was  a  student's  gown,  while  his  thin  legs 
were  incased  in  black  silk  stockings,  and  his  feet  in  rough 
hob-nailed  boots.  Slung  over  one  shoulder  was  a  leather 
bag,  and  in  his  hand  was  a  curious  sort  of  a  tool. 

"The  Master  Professor  Knops  has  the  honor  of  salut- 
ing Prince  Leo  Lazybones,''  was  the  way  in  which  this 
extraordinary  person  introduced  himself,  making  at  the 
same  time  a  deep  bow  and  a  military  salute,  but  with  110 
raising  of  the  cap  from  which  the  little  lantern  gleamed 
with  a  bright  blue  name.  Leo  returned  the  salutation 
with  lazy  grace,  smiling  curiously  upon  the  queer  little 
object  before  him,  who  proceeded  to  say: 

"And  now  let  us  go;  I  lead — you  follow." 

"Forward,  then,"  responded  Leo,  rising  from  his  loun- 
ging attitude. 

The  elf  went  nimbly  down  the  corridor  as  if  accustom- 
ed to  it,  and  paused  before  a  door  which  led  to  a  night  of 
stone  steps. 

"Are  you  going  down  cellar?"  asked  Leo,  who  knew 
where  the  stairs  led. 

"I  am,"  replied  Knops;  "but  these  huge  doors  and 
heavy  hinges  bother  me.  Be  so  good  as  to  open  and  close 
them  for  me.  By-the-way,  you  may  get  hungry ;  shall 
we  find  food  down  here  .'" 

"Perhaps  so,"  said  Leo,  following',  and  doing  as  re- 
quested. 

They  went  down  step  after  step,  and  it  was  wonderful 
how  much  light  came  from  that  little  blue  flame. 

On  skipped  the  elf,  his  gown  puffing  out,  his  nailed 
boots  pattering  over  the  stones,  and  Leo  found  himself 
quite  breathless  when  they  reached  the  cellar,  so  unused 
was  he  to  any  rapidity  of  movement. 

"Suppose  we  meet  some  one,"  said  Leo. 

"And  what  have  we  to  fear  if  we  do  ?  No  one  can  see 
me,  and  if  you  are  afraid  of  a  scullion  or  house-maid  you 
are  not  the  Prince  I  take  you  for.  Tut!  tut!  don't  be 
afraid — come  on." 

The  cellar  was  damp,  and  great  curtains  of  cobwebs, 
like  gray  lace,  fell  over  the  empty  bins  and  wine  vaults. 
From  a  heap  of  winter  vegetables  Leo  filled  His  pockets 
with  apples  and  turnips. 

They  came  at  last  to  a  door  which  Leo  remembered 
having  opened  once,  but  finding  that  it  led  to  a  passage 
which  was  dark,  dismal,  and  unused,  he  had  not  cared  to 
explore  it.  He  now  followed  the  elf  through  it,  but  not 
without  misgivings,  for  as  he  groped  along  he  stepped  on 
a  round  object  which,  to  his  horror,  when  the  little  blue 
flame  of  the  elf's  lantern  revealed  its  empty  sockets  and 
grinning  jaws,  proved  to  be  a  skull. 

Knops  turned  with  a  smile  when  he  saw  Leo's  agitation, 
:iii(l  said,  blandly, 

"You  are  not  interested  in  this  form  of  natural  history, 
I  see."  Then  taking  up  the  skull,  he  placed  it  in  a  crev- 
ice of  the  wall,  saying,  "  Here  is  another  proof  that  there 

*  Begun  in  Xo.  195  HAUPER'*  YUUNL.  PEOPLE. 


are  110  ghosts  about.  Do  you  think  any  one  would  be  so 
careless  of  his  knowledge-box  as  to  leave  it  to  be  kicked 
around  in  that  way  i  Oh,  those  old  monks  were  misera- 
ble housekeepers ;  the  idea  of  stowing  away  their  skele- 
tons so  near  their  kitchen  closets!" 

Leo  smiled  faintly,  and  went  oil  after  Knops,  who  every 
once  in  a  while  gave  a  tap  oil  the  walls  with  his  tool,  start- 
ing the  echoes. 

"  There !"  said  he,  "  do  you  hear  that  ?  This  is  the  way 
we  make  old  houses  haunted.  I  don't  do  it  for  fun,  as  do 
the  elves  of  folly.  I  have  a  sensible  purpose ;  but  they  like 
nothing  better  than  to  frighten  people,  and  so  they  make 
these  noises  at  all  hours,  and  get  up  reports  that  a  house 
is  bewitched;  but  even  a  common  insect  like  the  cricket 
can  do  that,  human  beings  are  such  ridiculous  cowards." 

Leo  made  an  effort  to  assume  the  courage  which  he  did 
not  feel,  and  asked  his  guide  how  much  farther  he  intend- 
ed to  lead  him. 

"  Now,"  said  Knops,  stopping,  and  putting  on  an  air  of 
intense  gravity,  as  if  he  were  about  to  deliver  a  lecture, 
"I  must  beg  you,  my  dear  Prince,  to  place  perfect  con- 
fidence in  me.  I  promised  not  to  harm  you.  As  a  member 
of  the  S.  P.  C.  C.,  I  am  pledged  to  protect  you;  besides, 
you  have  no  idea  how  much  I  am  interested  in  you;  this 
expedition  has  been  planned  entirely  for  your  benefit. 
Trust  me,  then,  and  give  yourself  entirely  up  to  my  con- 
trol. Ask  as  many  questions  as  you  wish,  provided  they 
are  useful  ones.  Just  say,  without  ceremony,  '  Knops, 
why  is  this  ?  or,  Knops,  what  is  that  C  and  I,  in  return,  if 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  allow  me,  will  say,  frankly, 
'Leo,  this  is  this,' or  'that  is  that.'  But  here  is  the  en- 
trance to  our  habitations.  You  will  have  to  stoop  a  little." 
Striking  again  with  his  tool,  a  panel  slid  open  in  the  wall, 
through  which  they  crept. 

It  was  still  dark,  but  the  air  had  changed  greatly ;  in- 
stead of  the  musty  dampness  of  a  vault,  there  was  a  soft 
warmth,  which  was  fragrant  and  spicy,  and  a  beam  as  of 
moonlight  began  to  illuminate  the  passage,  which  broad- 
ened until  they  stood  at  its  termination,  when  Leo  found 
himself  oil  a  ledge  or  gallery  of  rock,  which  was  but  one 
of  many  in  the  vast  cavern  which  opened  before  them. 

On  its  floor  was  burning  an  immense  hontire.  which 
flashed  and  flamed,  and  around  which  was  a  bevy  of 
dwarfs,  shovelling  oil  fuel  from  huge  heaps  of  sandal- 
wood.  Every  gallery  swarmed  with  elves  and  dwarfs  in 
all  sorts  of  odd  costumes,  but  all  bore  little  lanterns  in 
their  caps  and  tools  in  their  hands.  Some  were  hammer- 
ing at  great  bowlders,  others  with  picks  were  working  in 
passages  similar  to  the  one  Leo  had  left,  and  others  seern- 
ed  to  be  turning  lathes,  sharpening  knives,  cutting  and 
polishing  heaps  of  brilliant  stones.  Every  once  ina  while 
a  party  of  queer  little  creatures  much  smaller  than  Knops 
would  trundle  in  wheelbarrows  full  of  rough  pebbles,  and. 
dumping  them  down  before  those  employed  in  cutting  and 
polishing,  would  be  oft'  again  in  a  jiffy  ifor  another  load. 

Leo  was  so  astonished  that  he  stood  perfectly  silent, 
gazing  now  at  the  flashing  fire  which  reflected  from  all 
sides  of  the  brilliant  quartz  of  the  cavern,  and  now  at  the 
tier  upon  tier  of  galleries  full  of  busy  little  people. 

"  This  is  one  of  our  workshops,"  said  Knops,  "but  not 
the  most  important.  Now  that  you  have  rested  a  moment 
I  will  take  you  to  that." 

Line  upon  line  of  red  and  green  in  rubies  and  emeralds 
were  at  the  base  of  the  grotto,  and  then  he  found  that  the 
emeralds  sprang  up  into  long  grasses  and  the  rubies  into 
flaming  roses,  and  on  slender  spears  were  lilies  of  pearls 
and  daisies  of  diamonds,  and  blending  with  these  were 
vines  of  honeysuckle  and  strawberries,  gleaming  with 
sapphires  and  topaz  and  amethysts,  wreathing  and  flash- 
ing up  to  a  ceiling  of  lapis  lazuli  blue  as  a  June  sky.  The 
floor  was  a  mosaic  of  turquoise  forget-me-nots  on  a  turf 
of  Egyptian  jasper. 

When  Leo  had  looked  at  all  this  bewildering   beauty 


Jl'LY  31,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


615 


Knops  pushed  open  the  mica,  door  again,  and  they  began 
tu  traverse  the  galleries  of  the  rock  cavern.  He  was  sur- 
prised that  none  of  the  elves  noticed  him.  nor  even  looked 
at  him.  and  lie  asked  Knops  the  reason. 

"I  have  rendered  you  invisible  to  them,  my  dear  Leo, 
for  two  reasons:  one  is  that  you  maybe  undisturbed  in 
your  examination  of  their  work,  and  the  other  is  that 
they  may  not  be,  interrupted;  for  of  course  your  presence 
would  be  a  source  of  lively  interest  to  them,  and  yet  any 
stoppage  of  work  would  necessitate  punishment." 

"  Punishment '."  repeated  Leo,  questioningly. 

"Oh  yes;  most  of  our  hardest  workers  are  elves  of  mis 
chief,  and  it  is  only  by  keeping  them  thus  constantly  em- 
ploved  that  we  prevent  disorder.  You  have  no  idea  what 
pranks  they  play." 

''And  what  is  your  authority  among  them  .'"  asked  Leo. 

"I  am  one  of  our  King's  cabinet:  my  title-  is  Master 
Professor.  My  learning  qualifies  me  to  decide  upon  the 
plans  of  work,  where  to  search  for  precious  stones,  ami 
how  liest  to  prepare  them  for  man's  finding.  Nothing  is 
more  amusing  than  the  wonder  and  surprise  men  exhibit 
at  what  they  consider  their  diseo\  eries  of  minerals  and 
gems,  \\hen  for  ages  we  have  been  arranging  them  for 
their  clumsy  hands." 

"  1  low  do  you  do  this  ?" 

"  Ah  !  it's  a  long  story.  Here  you  see  the  result  of  our 
luiii;-  searches,  and  were  it  not  for  1  he  proces-.es  we  eon 
duet  none  of  these  stones  \\onlil  ever  he  I'mind.  We  can 
penetrate  where  man  has  never  been:  we  can  construct 
what  man  has  in  vain  tried  to  do.  Come  with  me  to  our 
diamond  room  :  we  do  not  make  nian\  .  preferring  to  tind 
them;  but  as  an  interesting  scient ilic  e.x perimeul  we  have 
a  I  u  ays  liked  to  lest  our  ahilit  \  . " 

So  saying,  Knops  turned  down  a  little  lane  lighted  by 
what  looked  like  small  globes  of  white  lire. 

"  Electric  light."  said  Knops.  with  a  gesture  of  disdain. 
as  lie  saw  Leo  blinking  with  wonder.  "  the  commonest 
sort  of  a  bla/.e;  and  yet  men  have  nearly  addled  their 
brains  over  it.  while  we  made  it  boil  our  kettles.  It's  the 
Simplest  and  cheapest  fuel  one  can  have ;  but  having  util 
i/.ed  it  so  long.  I  am  on  the  lookout  for  something  new. 
Here,  this  is  the  way;"  and  again  he  opened  a  mica  door. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

BLOW-PIPES  and  retorts,  crucibles  and  jars,  porcelain 
and  glass  vessels  of  all  odd  sorts  and  shapes  confronted 
them  on  tables  and  shelves,  and,  seateil  before  small  fur- 
naces, with  gauze  protectors  for  their  faces  and  metal  ones 
for  their  knees,  and  queer  little  rubber  gloves  for  their 
hands, -were  the  very  queerest  of  all  the  elves  Leo  had 
yet  seen.  They  were  thinner  and  much  less  muscular 
than  the  miners  and  stone-polishers,  with  eyes  too  large 
and  legs  too  small  for  their  bodies,  so  that  they  resembled 
nothing  so  much  as  spiders. 

'"See  how  in  the  pursuit  of  the  beautiful  one  can  lose 
all  beauty,"  said  Knops,  confidentially. 

"How  hot  it  is  here!"  said  Leo,  gasping  for  breath. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  fellow,  there's  no  doubt  of  that;  the  heat 
is  tremendous.  Now  some  of  your  thermometers  go  no 
higher  than  a  hundred  and  thirty,  while  ours  can  ascend  to 
three  and  four  hundred ;  that  is.  for  the  common  air  of  our 
dwellings.  Of  course  the  heat  demanded  by  many  of  our 
experiments  is  practically  incalculable :  for  instance — 

"  Oh,  get  me  out  of  this!"  entreated  Leo. 

"Here,  step  into  this  niche,  put  your  mouth  to  this 
opening" — and  Knops  pointed  to  one  of  many  silver  tubes 
which  projected  near  them — "now  breathe.  Is  not  that 
refreshing  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Leo,  reviving,  as  he  took  a  long  draught  of 
fresh  cool  air.  "  How  do  your  people  endure  such  heat  ?" 

"They  are  used  to  it:  besides,  they  can  come  to  these 
little  tubes,  as  you  have  done,  whenever  they  please." 

"  Where  does  this  air  come  from  ?" 


"It  is  pure  oxygen;  we  manufacture  it.  and  here  is  a 
lump  of  pure  carbon  which  we  also  manufacture,"  and  he 
laid  in  Leo's  hand  what  looked  like  a  drop  of  dew.  It 
was  a  diamond  of  exquisite  lustre. 

As  Leo  looked  with  surprise  and  admiration  at  it  an  elf 
came  staggering  up  to  the  niche.  After  breathing  the  oxy- 
gen he  turned  to  Knops  with  a  heart  rending  cry. 

"I  have  lost  it — lost  it.  Master  Knops." 

"Lost  what.  Pa/  .'" 

"The  finest  stone  I  ever  made,  and  I  have  been  years 
at  it." 

'•  How  did  that  happen  ?" 

"  Burned  it  too  long — look!"  and  he  produced  in  his  spi- 
dery hand  a  small  mass  of  charcoal. 

•  Never  mind.  Paz;  better  luck  next  time,"  said  Knops, 
kindly. 

"  No,  I  am  no  longer  fit  for  the  profession  ;  such  a  mis- 
take is  inexcusable.  1  can  not  hold  tip  my  head  among 
the  others.  I  meant  that  diamond  for  our  King's  tiara 
or  the  (Queen's  necklace — bah!  Please,  Master  Professor, 
put  me  amoiiir  the-  miners,  or  take  me  for  your  valet. 
I  care  not  what  I  do." 

"  You  are  depressed  just  now;   wait  awhile." 

"  No.  I  must  go.  I  have  broken  my  crucible  and  put 
out  my  furnace.  I  will  not  stay  to  be  scorned." 

"Come  with  me,  then,  and  1  will  see  what  I  can  do  for 
yon." 

"He  may  be  useful  to  us, "said  Knops  to  Leo,  adding. 
"  ue  never  allow  these  diamonds  to  be  put  in  the  quartz 
beds;  they  are  all  reserved  for  our  own  particular  uses. 
It  takes  so  long  a  time  to  make  them  that  only  elves 
of  great  patience  and  a  certain  quiet  habit  of  mind  are 
trained  to  the  task.  Look  !" 

He  pointed  toward  what  appeared  to  he  a  glittering  cob- 
web hanging  from  a  projection  on  the  wall.  It  was  com- 
posed  of  silver  wires,  on  which  were  strung  numbers  of 
small  but  most,  exquisite  gems,  each  of  which  sparkled  and 
Hashed  with  its  imprisoned  light. 

"  In  the  same  way."  he  resumed,  "all  the  pearls  we  use 
are  of  our  own  cultivation,  if  I  may  use  the  term.  We  se- 
cure the  oysters  and  insert  small  objects  within  the  sliells, 
generally  a  seed-pearl  of  insignilieanl  size,  leaving  it  to  be 
worked  upon  by  the  living  lish ;  when  enough  time  for 
the  incrustation  has  elapsed  we  find  our  pearls  grown  to 
a  remarkable  size,  of  rarest  beauty  and  value.  These  pro- 
cesses are  not  unknown  to  man,  but  men  are  so  clumsy 
that  they  seldom  succeed  in  perfecting  them." 

Leo  by  this  time  was  quite  exhausted  both  by  what  he 
had  seen  and  by  what  he  had  heard,  and  he  begged  Kuops 
to  allow  him  to  rest. 

"Certainly,  certainly,  my  dear," said  Knops.  "Pardon 
me  for  wearying  you.  I  am  more  scientific  than  hospi- 
table. Come  to  our  sleeping  apartment.  I  think  I  shall 
allow  Paz  to  see  you,  for,  as  he  is  so  unhappy,  it  will  di- 
vert him  to  serve  you  while  you  remain  with  us,  and  per- 
haps, too,  he  can  suggest  something  suitable  for  your  food. 
I  ought  to  have  thought  of  this  before." 

Leo  had,  with  three  or  four  bites,  disposed  of  an  apple, 
and  had  already  begun  on  a  turnip,  when  Knops,  giving 
Paz  a  peculiar  sign,  the  spidery  little  fellow  reached  up 
and  snatched  the  turnip  from  Leo's  hand. 

' '  What's  the  matter  now  ?"  asked  Leo,  too  tired  to  re- 
gain it,  easily  as  he  could  have  done  so. 

"I  can't  see  anybody  eat  such  wretched  stuff  as  that; 
wait  till  I  cook  it,"  said  Paz. 

"  Well,  Paz,  I  am  glad  you  can  help  me  out  of  my  dilfi- 
culty,"  said  Knops.  "I  really  am  puzzled  what  to  do  for 
Prince  Leo's  hunger.  My  breakfast  is  a  wren's  egg;  for 
dinner,  a  sardine  with  a  slice  of  mushroom  is  enough  for 
four  of  us;  for  supper,  a  pickled  mouse  tongue.  How  long 
could  you  live  on  such  fare,  Leo  ?" 

"  Not  long,  I  fear." 

"  So  I  supposed.     Well,  here  is  the  dormitory ;  by  push- 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"THEY    WENT    DOWN    STEP   AFTER   STEP." 

ing  up  it  dozen  or  more  beds,  you  can  stretch  out  awhile. 
Meanwhile  I  can  attend  to  some  professional  duties,  after 
I  have  dispatched  Paz  for  your  food.  What  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  with  that  turnip,  Paz  ?" 

"An  elf  who  can  make  diamonds  from  charcoal  can 
perhaps  produce  beefsteak  from  a  turnip,"  said  Leo. 

"Ah!  don't  remind  me  of  my  bitter  humiliation,  kind 
sir,"  said  Paz,  in  a  sad  tone.  "I  will  do  what  I  can  for 
you.  Do  you  like  soup  ?" 

"  Immensely.'' 

"  And  roast  quail  ?" 

"Delicious!"' 

' '  Apple  tart  ?" 

"  Nothing  better." 

"  Adieu,  then,  fov  an  hour." 

Knops  too  departed,  leaving  Leo  to  look  about  him, 
with  curious  eyes,  tipon  rows  of  little  beds,  each  with  a 


scarlet  blanket,  and  each  having  its  pitcher  and  basin 
conveniently  at  hand.     But  he  soon  was  fast  asleep. 

While  all  this  was  happening  to  Leo,  at  the  Monas- 
tery was  great  confusion.  The  servants  had  gone  in 
a  body  to  Prince  Morpheus's  bedroom  to  demand  their 
wages.  With  tearful  eyes  and  wailing  voice  he  had 
protested  that  he  had  no  money,  that  his  life  was  hang- 
ing by  a  .thread,  and  that  his  brain  was  on  lire.  They 
loudly  urged  their  claims,  declaring  they  would  i  1 1  st  a  n  t  - 
ly  leave  the  premises  unless  they  were  paid.  As  they 
could  not  get  a  satisfactory  reply  from  their  master. 
who  hid  his  eyes  at  the  sight  of  their  angry  faces,  and 
put  his  fingers  in  his  ears  to  keep  out  their  noisy 
voices,  they  concluded  to  go;  so,  packing  their  boxes 
and  bags,  and  pressing  the  mules  and  oxen  into  their 
service,  they  one  by  one  went  off  to  the  nearest  vil- 
lage. 

One  old  woman,  who  had  never  known  any  other 
home,  alone  remained,  and  when  the  storm  subsided 
and  the  house  was  quiet,  Morpheus,  being  hungry, 
crawled  down  to  the  kitchen  fire  to  find  her  boiling 
porridge. 

"Where  is  my  son  '."  asked  Morpheus. 
The    old   woman    was    deaf,  arid    only    muttered, 
"Gone — all  gone." 

"Alas!  and  has  my  son  also  deserted  his  father.'' 
cried  Morpheus. 

The  old  woman  nodded,  partly  with  the  palsy,  anil 
partly  because  she  knew  of  nothing  to  say.  Morpheus 
smote  his  forehead  with  a  tragic  gesture,  and  allowed 
himself  to  fall — gently — upon  the  floor.  When  he  had 
remained  in  an  apparent  swoon  long  enough  he  \\.i> 
revived  by  some  hot  porridge  being  poured  down  his 
throat,  and  his  hair  and  hands  sprinkled  with  vinegar. 
Rousing  himself  as  if  with  great  effort,  but  really  with 
great  ease,  he  stood  up,  and  finding  the  kitchen  warm 
er  than  his  cell,  concluded  to  remain  there  ;  but  the 
old  woman  was  too  stiff  with  rheumatism  1"  wait 
upon  him,  so  he  had  to  ladle  out  his  own  portion  of 
porridge,  get  his  books  and  candle  for  himself,  and 
finally  bring  in  some,  fagots  for  the  fire. 

When  he  sat  down  to  study  he  found  himself  in  a 
more  cheerful  mood  than  he  had  been  in  for  many  a 
(lay,  though  he  could  not  help  wondering  what  had 
become  of  Leo.  As  he  went  on  thinking  where  the  be  <y 
could  be  he  was  inspired  to  write  what  he  called  a 
sonnet  upon  the  subject.  Here  it  is: 

My  boy  has  fled  his  father's  homo, 

No  more  he  treads  these  halls; 

In  vain  my  voice  invokes  his  namr, 

In  vain   my  tears,  my  calls. 

The  night   winds  sigh,  the  owlets  cry. 

The  moon's  pale  light  appears, 

The  stars  are  shivering  in  the  sky — 

I  tremble  at  my  fears. 

Has  then  the  Knight  of  Shadowy  Bread 

My  Leo  foreed  away 

From  his  fond  parent's  loving  heart 

In  Death's  grim  halls  astray? 

I  bow  reluctant  to  my  fate; 

'Tis  mine  to  weep  and  mine  to  wait ! 

He  counted  the  lines  over  carefully;  the  eighth  and 
tenth  seemed  short,  but  it  scanned  after  a  fashion.  On 
the  whole  it  suited  him,  and  was  rather  better  done  than 
many  of  his  verses,  so  with  soothed  nerves  he  sought  his 
pillow. 

The  old  woman  had  slumbered  all  the  evening  in  her 
chair.  Indeed,  her  snoring  had  been  even  and  regular 
enough  to  act  as  a  measure  in  marking  the  time  for  tin- 
musical  cadences  of  the  sonnet. 

Morpheus,  having  a  pretty  good  appetite,  ate  some  bread 
and  cheese  and  drank  some  ale  before  retirino-. 
[TO  nn  CONTINUED.] 


.11  \.\    81 


IIAKI'KU'S   Vor.XG  PEOPLE. 


617 


CrtfrSMl  A 

, 


ANIMAL    STUDIES    AT    THE    CENTRAL    PAKK.— DRAWN  BY  F.  S.  CHURCH. 


CIS 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BRAVO,  STICK ! 

BY  MARGARET   EYTINGE. 

ONE  day  in  autumn  a  fine  flower  bulb  was  planted 
some  five  or  six  inches  deep  in  the  rich  brown 
ground,  and  a  stick  that  the  gardener  had  found  lying  in 
the  field  just  outside  of  the  garden  gate  was  stuck  near  it. 

"Well,"  said  the  stick,  in  a  dry  little  voice,  as  soon  as 
the  gardener  had  gone,  "  I  never  thought  to  be  brought 
into  this  beautiful  garden,  at  which  I  have  been  peeping 
through  the  fence  for  a  month  or  more.  I  wonder  if  I 
am  to  live  here  always  ?  I  hope  so." 

"If  you  do  live  here  always,"  called  the  flower  bulb 
from  her  snug  resting-place,  "I  don't  see  what  good  it 
will  do  you.  You're  only  a  stick,  and  a  stick  you'll  re- 
main, kowl — and,  by-the-bye,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me 
you'd  have  staid  in  the  field,  for  you  were  wanted  only 
to  mark  the  place  where  I  am  planted— shall  greet  the 
spring  with  handsome  green,  leaves  and  the  summer  with 
lovely  blossoms." 

Now  it  happened,  before  the  winter  was  over,  a  hungry 
mole  burrowed  its  way  into  the  garden,  and,  sniffing  about 
in  search  of  something  to  eat,  found  all  the  roots  and 
bulbs  too  bitter  for  its  taste  with  the  exception  of  one — 
the  very  one  that  had  spoken  so  boastiugly  to  the  stick — 
and  that  it  speedily  devoured.  And  so  when  spring 
arrived  nothing  came  from  the  spot  where  that  bulb  had 
been  placed  to  greet  her. 

But.  lo  and  behold,  the  stick  had  taken  root,  and  was 
covered  with  the  prettiest  tiny  green  leaves.  The  gar- 
dener, coming  that  way,  looked  at  it  with  wonder.  ' '  Why. 
that's  the  stick  I  picked  up  outside  last  fall,"  said  he.  "I'll 
let  it  stay  there,  and  see  what  it  comes  to."  And  it  came 
to  a  sturdy  treelet.  covered  before  the  summer  passed 
away  with  fragrant  pale  pink  flowers.  Some  chrysanthe- 
mums, who  had  heard  the  conversation  between  the  bulb 
and  the  stick  when  they  paid  their  autumn  visit,  cried, 
"Bravo,  stick  !  you  have  done  well,  but  how  did  you  do  it  ?" 

"Oh,  I  tried  so  hard!"  said  the  treelet,  in  a  mellow 
little  voice;  "  and  I  never  lost  heart,  no  matter  how  cold 
the  winter  wind  and  snow.  But  I'm  sorry  the  mole  ate 
the  poor  flower  bulb." 


SEA-BATHING  AND  FLOATING. 

BY  CAPTAIN  MATTHEW  WEBB,  THE  CHANNEL  SWIMMER. 

ONE  of  the  first  points  to  decide  upon,  with  regard  to  sea- 
bathing is.  Who  should  bathe  and  who  should  not  ? 
I  do  not,  you  see,  put  the  question,  Who  should  swim  and 
who  should  not  ?     The  fact  is,  that  if  you  can  swim  you 
will  be  sure  to  want  to  bathe. 

Now  many  persons  will  declare  that  this  point  is  one 
for  a  doctor  to  decide,  but  this  I  deny,  except  in  very  ex- 
ceptional cases.  It  is  a  question  of  common-sense.  The 
first  question  is,  Do  you  feel  inclined  for  it?  If  you  do, 
it  will  probably  do  you  good.  The  next  point  is,  If  you 
don't,  how  far  are  parents  justified  in  making  their  boys 
bathe  who  would  rather  not  ?  This  entirely  depends  upon 
how  they  go  to  work  to  make  them  bathe.  You  must 
treat  young  and  nervous  lads  like  puppies.  If  you  throw 
a  puppy  into  the  water  you  will  spoil  it  forever.  The 
proper  course  is  to  coax  it  in,  and  as  with  the  puppy,  so 
witli  the  boy. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  pluck  and 
fool-hardiness,  and  I  recollect  a  case  many  years  ago 
which  will  explain  what  I  mean.  Two  boys  were  luih 
in<;  where  there  was  considerable  tide.  One  of  these 
boys  tried  to  persuade  the  other  to  swim  out  to  a 
rock  some  little  distance  away.  The  other  refused,  not- 
withstanding that  his  companion  called  him  a  coward ; 
and  in  order  to  show  his  own  superior  courage,  the  first 


boy  tried  it  himself.  But  the  tide  ran  sideways,  and  the 
boy,  failing  to  reach  the  rock,  became  tired,  and  finding 
he  could  not  have  the  rest  he  anticipated,  turned  for  the 
shore  ;  he  took  short  quick  strokes,  and  called  out  for 
"help."  The  "coward,"  however,  now  swam  boldly  out 
to  help  his  companion,  who  but  for  his  assistance  would 
probably  have  been  drowned.  The  two  reached  the  shore 
very  much  exhausted. 

A  common  cause  of  danger  in  bathing  in  a  strong  tide 
is  when  a  boat  is  anchored  out  fishing.  Though  the 
bather  may  not  get  more  than  a  couple  of  yards  away 
from  the  boat,  he  can  not  reach  it,  and  if  only  a  very 
moderate  swimmer  he  might  get  flurried  on  finding  this 
out. 

In  bathing  from  a  boat  the  boat  should  always  be  five. 
Again,  it  is  often  dangerous  to  bathe  from  a  boat  when 
the  bather  is  alone.  I  remember  a  case  some  years  back 
in  Windertnere  Lake.  A  fairly  good  swimmer  took  out 
a  boat  by  himself  for  a  dip.  There  was  a  fair  amount 
of  wind,  and  the  boat,  lightened  by  the  absence  of  his 
weight,  sailed  away  from  the  swimmer,  and  eventually 
j  came  ashore.  The  unfortunate  swimmer,  however,  had 
to  swim  ashore  at  once,  and  regain  his  boat  by  walking 
along  the  edge  of  the  lake  in  a  very  light  costume.  Had 
not  the  man  been  a  good  swimmer  the  end  might  have 
been  far  worse  than  merely  laughable. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  fresh-water  and  salt- 
water as  regards  danger  in  bathing.  Salt-water  is  much 
heavier,  and  consequently  more  buoyant.  It  is  therefore 
much  easier  to  float  in  salt-water,  and  there  are  thousand* 
of  persons  who  can  float  in  the  sea  who  can  not  float  at 
all  in  fresh-water. 

In  learning  to  float  you  should  remember  that  the  only 
part  of  your  body  that  should  be  out  of  the  water  is  the 
face,  and  not  the  head.  Many  persons  fail  to  float  be- 
cause they  keep  their  head  too  forward.  In  Moating  keep 
your  head  well  back,  and  stick  your  chin  up  in  the  air 
as  high  as  you  can.  Recollect  that  it  is  your  body  that 
floats,  being  rather  lighter  than  water,  bulk  for  hulk,  and 
that  your  legs,  head,  and  arms  sink,  being  rather  heavier 
than  water  as  a  rule,  bulk  for  bulk.  In  Moating,  the  diffi- 
culty at  starting  is  to  balance  yourself;  for  this  purpose 
you  must  use  your  arms. 

Sometimes,  after  throwing  yourself  on  your  back  and 
drawing  in  a  deep  breath,  you  will  find  'that  your  legs 
have  a  tendency  to  slowly  sink.  When  this  is  the  case 
you  must  balance  them  with  your  arms,  which  you  must 
hold  straight  out  over  your  head  as  far  back  as  you  can 
reach,  keeping  the  back  of  your  hands  on  the  water  close 
together,  flat  and  side  by  side.  You  will  now  find  that  your 
toes  will  come  up  and  pop  out  of  the  water.  In  fact,  you 
are  like  a  balance,  the  trunk  of  your  body,  especially  the 
lungs,  full  of  air,  floating  in  the  middle.' and  your  head 
and  arms  on  one  side  balancing  your  legs  on  the  other. 

It  is  very  important  to  be  able  to  float  well,  and  float- 
ing requires  practice.  To  be  able  to  float  well  gives  one 
great  confidence  in  the  water,  as  when  you  feel  that  you 
are  growing  tired  you  know  that  you  can  get  a  long  rest 
whenever  you  like.  The  longest  time  I  ever  remained  iu 
the  water  was  seventy -four  hours,  i.e.,  over  three  dav.s 
and  three  nights.  Of  course  I  rested  a  great  part  of  this 
time  by  floating  on  my  back.  This  was  at  the  Scar- 
borough Aquarium,  in  salt-water.  Of  course  the  water 
was  warmed,  the  temperature  being  about  eighty  degrees. 
When  I  swam  across  the  English  Channel  the  great 
difficulty  I  had  to  contend  with  was  the  cold,  and  not  the 
mere  fatigue  of  swimming.  If  the  temperature  of  the 
ish  Channel  were  like  that  of  the  Gulf  Stream  or  the 
JVM!  Sea.  there  are  hundreds  of  good  swimmers  who  could 
cross  it  with  ease. 

I  can  when  in  training  in  a  bath  swim  a  mile  in  half 

Were  I  to  again  attempt  to  swim  the  Channel. 

the  nrst  thing  I  should  have  to  do  would  be  to  get  fat.     I 


JULY   S- 


PEOPLE. 


619 


want   to  weigh   nearly  forty   pounds  more  tliaii  I 
.should  _  niv  pi-esent   weight   being  about  one   hundred  ami 

do  nowumis  a,,,i  ,],,.  consequence  of  this  would  In-  thai  I 

nll.v  P"not   1)  •  able  to  swim  a   mile  in  less  than  thirU    live 
should  s.  ,,,.  ]M., -haps   even    nion-.      (In   tin-  other  hand   I 
minute,,,,,  I',.,.]  th,-  eold. 
should  arninir  to  lloat  \on  must  choose  a  calm  day.  as  it   is 

I'1  ^'impossible  to  lloat  in  what  is  known  as  a  choppy 
almost  Vhen  you  arc  Moating  he  careful  how  you  draw  in 
sea.  "V-ejith.  You  should  watch  your  opportunity.  Al- 
your  bleep  as  mucli  air  in  your  luii-s  as  possible  that  i>. 
ways  k,  your  breath  and  hold  it  in  rather  more  than  \  on 
draw  hi,,  in  ordinary  breathing.  Then,  when  you  breathe 

would  <So  quickly,  and  relill  your  lun^s  as  - as  possible. 

out.  do  s,  t,,  ,1,-aw  in  your  breath  through  your  nose  rather 
It  is  lie;,,,,,  mouth.      A  moulhful  of  salt  water,  especially 
than   ythjnir.  is  v,.|.y  uncoml'oriahlc;   you  have  I"  •j'et  into 
in  breaghl   |,iisition  almost  dircclly  in  order  to  cull '/h  :    he 
an  upri   ,,1'ten    makes  one  fed  very  sick.      The   moment    ,i 
sides,   if   watrr  gets    into   the    n..~e   you  will  feel    it   and  be 
drop  ols,,,p  I,,  tin,,.      Still,  this  is  ver\   disagreeable,  and  it 
able  tu|,,  )„.  ,-.,  refill    in   taking  l>reath  while-  Moating  so  as 
's  '"'>l  ,1  any  unpleasantness  of  the  kind. 
to  avoii  ,.,,],.   young  lads   tlual    easily,  and   al-o   men    after 

A^    a,_,  „,  I,,  •'  till  out   w  iih  a  ire."      A  heall  hy.  act  i  \  e.  inn-, 
they  I>e1(|      say  a   uiood   cricketer  ill   ^""d   I  i-aininir.   without 
cular  IberfluoUS  Ili-sh  about  him  —  will  rarely  lloat  in  fresh- 
auysii]    (  >n  ,he  other  hand,  a    fat    sleek    man    will   always 
water,  ill,  rase,   |he    simple  reason  of  this  hcinu  that   "  tat 
lloal    W" 
S\\  mis. 


1 


RAISING    THE   "PEARL." 


H  ">      .1  .\  M  )•:  ^     '  >  -i-  i  s, 

i       1  'ni;\  Tl  i.f.i:, I'm   i\i>Tir,""Mi:    -  .. ."  in  . 


ALTIKH: 


(  HAITI'.];    XXVIH.— (Continued.) 

Till-'.    Nl-'.WS    AT    TAMI'\. 
is  nine  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  when  the 

IT  w'ht  I'rarl.  1  larrell  Evan  s  commanding,  swept  around 
>•"'    Key    into    the    waters   of   Tampa     Hay.    ami 
Mullet]. ,,,.,.  s|l(.  uas  u,a(le  fast  to  the  pier  at   (   .iptain  Sam- 
hours  ,,,.k 

my  s  d)W    voll  hoys,  run  home,  so   that   your  parents  will 
'  ^'  hat   1  brought  you  back  whole,  and  the  pirate  and  I 
know  l,,.,,(l  t,,  deaniny  up,"  said  (  'aptain  Sammy,  and  the 
will  at  ,,,.,.  ,,,,,  ](mir  in  obeying  him. 
hoys  w;,'mL,.  illlo  ,],,,  ]lott.l   ]j|-,.  a  young  whirlwind,  in  the 

'I'lslf  surprising  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans,  the!.- joy  was  con- 
hope  °>ly  cheeked  uhen  the  landlord  said  to  them,  just  as 
sideral -,,,.,.  almost  tumbling  up  the  stairs  in  their  eagerness, 
they  w,m,  fa,h|.,.  and  muther  went  home  last  week." 

i  "three  stood  looking  at  the  man  as  if  they  could  not 

AH  ;tand   what   he  had  said,  and,  as  a  way  of  making 
underSeaUxe  t)ie  truth  of  his  assertion,  he  lianded  Dare  a 
them  r 
letter.  as  from  ^i,.    Kvans,  stating  that  business  had  called 

It  w.ddenly  away,  and  Mrs.  Evans  was  not  willing  to  be 
him  sn,i,u]  He  ],;ui  jeft  passage  tickets  for  the  boys,  and 
left  beVere  to  return  home  as  soon  as  they  received  his 
they  v 

letter,  j  cieal. ;  au{j  we  ilave  gOt  to  go  back  without  finishing 

''nise,"  said  Charley,  in  a  mournful  tone. 
ir  crtS)»  replied  Dare,  "  we  must  go,  for  he  says  come  as 
Y<is  we  get  the  letter.      Of  course  if  he  had  known 
soon  fe  shou]ci  get  it  before  the  voyage  was  over,  he  would 
that  wijid  tliat  we  couici  stay  until  it  was  done;  but  since 
have  sn't  know  that,  we  must  go  home.'' 
he  did_ 


*  Begun  in  No.  ITS,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


It  was  a  sorrowful  party  that  retraced  their  steps  to  the 
dock  to  tell  ('aptain  Sammy  and  Tommy  that,  so  far  as 
they  were  concerned,  the  cruise  was  over.  And  the  other 
members  of  the  7Vin-/'x  cn-\\  \\cre  quite  as  sad  about  it  as 

the  bo\  s  u  ere. 

"  It  can't  be  helped,  lads,  "said  Captain  Sammy,  as  cheer- 
fully as  possible.  ''All  we  can  hope  is  that  you  will  be 
back  here  again  before  the  winter  is  over.  ^>  on  can't  leave 
her.-  until  four  o'clock  to  morrow  afternoon,  so  yon  had 
better  pack  up  your  birds  and  other  things  you've  -ol 
:. board  here  this  afternoon,  and  |o-morrow  morning,  not 
later  than  ten  o'clock,  come  around  to  my  house,  and  the 
pirate  and  I  will  give  you  a  dinner  such  as  \  on  ought  to 
learn  how  to  cook." 

(  MAI'TKi:    XXIX. 
THK   FAREWELL   1UXXKR. 

BY  the  arrangement  which  ('aptain  Samm\  had  made, 
the  whole  of  thi>  last  day  they  were  to  remain  in  Tampa 
was  to  be  spent  with  him. 

The  Steamer  sailed  for  (  Vdar  Keys  al  which  point  they 
were  to  take  the  cars  lor  Fernandina.  leaving  there  in  a 
sieamer  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  an  earl\ 
dinner  uas  to  he  served,  in  order  thai  1 1  icy  might  ha\  c  as 

much  of  the  after  in as  possible  in  whii-h  to  visit  for  the 

laM  time  the  little  steamer  which  had  been  their  home  for 
SO  many  days. 

It  lacked  fully  ten  minutes  of  the  time  appointed  when 
l>are  knocked  al  ( 'aplain  Sammy's  door.  \\  Inch  was  imme- 
diately opened  by  Tomm  , 

They    were  almost   too  much    surprised   for  words  al    the 

pirate's  changed  appearance.     His  hair  was  combed  neai 

ly.  his  face  \\  as  perfectly  clean,  and  hiscosliune  was  that 
of  a  particularly  neat  sailor  out  for  a  holiday.  \Yhite 
llannel  trousers,  and  shirt  with  blue  collar  and  cull's,  in 
I  he  corners  of  w  hich  were  worked  white  slars.  ^ave  to  the 

once  disreputable-looking  boj  the  neatest  possible  appear 

anee. 

Captain  Sammy  could  be  seen  in  the  adjoining  room, 
dressed  with  the  same  neatness,  but  he  was  too  busily  en- 

g:ii:vd  about  s -thing  to  be  able  to  stop  to  speak  or  even 

scold. 

lint  the  room  into  which  they  had  been  ushered  was  the 
most  wonderful  of  anything  they  had  seen  in  the  State, 
for  it  was  as  full  of  odd  little  things  as  an  overstocked 
museum.  The  mantel-piece  fairly  bristled  with  whales' 
teeth,  sharks'  teeth,  and  alligators'  lecth:  each  corner  of 
the  room  was  completely  lilled  with  sprays  and  branches 
of  coral,  while  every  available  inch  of  space  on  the  walls 

was  covered  with  pictures  of  all  kinds  of  possible  and  im- 
possible vessels. 

A  slull'eil  bird  was  standing  on  his  head  under  one  of 
the  windows,  as  if  it  had  been  frightened  at  the  many 
strange  things  around,  and  had  assumed  that  attitude  in 
sheer  desperation.  The  model  of  a  vessel,  possibly  the 
same  one  Captain  Sammy  had  commanded,  stood  against 
an  enormous  turtle-shell,  and  at  one  end  of  the  room  lay 
at  least  a  bushel  of  shells  of  almost  every  conceivable 
variety. 

Bits  of  rope  in  which  were  tied  all   kinds  of  curious 
knots,  complicated  blocks,  and  odds  and  ends  of  every  de- 
scription littered  the  room,  save  directly  under  the  man 
tel-piece,  where  stood  what,  the  visitors  thought  was  the 
most  beautiful  thing  of  all. 

This  was  neither  more  iiorless  than  a  trim  little  schoon- 
er about  six  feet  long,  rigged  in  the  most,  perfect  manner, 
with  neither  a  block  nor  a  line  missing  or  out  of  place. 

Captain  Sammy  entered  the  room  just  as  the  boys  were 
gazing  at  the  vessel,  and  a  grim  look  of  satisfaction  came 
over  his  face  as  he  observed  the  visitors'  admiration  of  this, 
which  was  probably  his  favorite  among  all  the  curios- 
ities. 

"  Can  she  sail,  Captain  Sammy  ?"  asked  Dare. 


•620 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    FAHEWELL    DINNER    WITH    CAPTAIN    SAMMY. 


"That  she  can,''  replied  the  little  man,  enthusiastically. 
"She  can  live  in  almost  any  weather;  an'  I've  seen  more 
lives  saved  through  the  craft  that  this  one's  the  model  of 
than  I  ever  saw  lost,  which  is  savin'  a  good  deal.  Sail? 
why,  that  'ere  craft  could  turn  a  square  corner  if  anybody 
that  knew  how  much  twice  two  was  could  get  on  board  of 
her.  Sail  ?  why,  she  could  get  clean  away  from  the  wind, 
an'  have  to  lay  to  till  it  caught  up  with  her." 

Captain  Sammy  patted  the  sides  of  the  little  craft  as  if 
it  was  some  living  thing  that  could  understand  his  caress- 
es, and  then,  glancing  up  at  the  clock,  he  rushed  off  to  the 
kitchen  in  the  greatest  possible  haste. 

Master  Tucker  seemed  to  take  naturally  to  this  great 
change  in  his  surroundings,  and  in  answer  to  Dare's  ques- 
tions he  told  them  that  Captain  Sammy  had  announced 
liis  intention  of  regularly  adopting'  him.  The  little  man 
had  already  visited  Mrs.  Tucker,  and  by  promising  to  con- 
tribute a  certain  amount  each  month  toward  her  support, 
had  induced  her  to  consent  to  the  plan. 

Therefore  Tommy  was  to  begin  to  attend  school  on  the 
following  Monday,  and  he  would  persist  that  all  the 
•changes  in  his  circumstances  were  wholly  due  to  the  boys, 
who  had  shown  him  by  example  that  true  pleasure  and 
right  doing  go  hand  in  hand. 

All  this  conversation,  which  was  broken  in  upon  from 
time  to  time  by  their  admiration  of  the  schooner,  had  oc- 
cupied them  so  long,  that  when  it  was  finished  Captain 
SaiiMiiy  popped  his  head  in  at  the  door  and  shouted,  as  if 
lie  thought  they  were  miles  away: 

"  Shipmates,  ahoy!     All  hands  to  dinner'.'' 


They  went  into  the  kitchen,  where  Captain  Sammy, 
\\  ith  great  pride,  gave  them  seats  at  a  table  that  seemed 
almost  groaning  under  the  weight  of  evidences  of  his  skill 
as  cook. 

Turtle,  which  was  cooked  in  every  imaginable  way. 
was  the  principal  dish,  and  in  addition  to  it  were  fish, 
fowl,  and  fruit  sufficient  for  at  least  a  dozen  hungry  men. 
It  was  Captain  Sammy's  purpose  to  have  them  partake  of 
everything  on  the  table,  and  so  strictly  did  he  carry  it  out 
that  even  when  Bobby  had  eaten  so  much  that  he  had 
serious  doubts  as  to  whether  he  could  walk  home,  or 
would  he  obliged  to  get  the  others  to  roll  him  along  like 
a  barrel,  the  little  man  glared  at  him  so  fiercely  that  he 
ate  another  turtle  steak  and  two  more  oranges  through  fear 
of  personal  violence. 

And  it  was  a  jolly  time,  for  when  Captain  Sammy  was 
not  scolding  nor  frowning  at  his  guests  because  they  did 
not  eat  more,  he  was  brimful  of  fun,  and  told  stories  un- 
til their  heads  were  as  full  of  the  wonders  of  the  sea  as 
their  stomachs  were  of  food. 

"  Now,"said  Captain  Sammy,  after  he  was  satisfied  that 
full  justice  had  been  done  to  his  feast,  and  the  table  look- 
ed as  if  it  had  been  swepl  l>\  an  invading  army,  "I'm 
downright  sorry  that  you're  going  away,  for  I'd  counted 
on  having  you  here  with  my  pirate  for  a  long  time  yet. 
I'd  made  up  my  mind  that  we'd  all  go  out  turtle-fishing  in 
May.  and  that  would  have  been  rare  sport,  for  all  you 
would  have  to  do  would  be  to  walk  up  to  an  old  turtle 
after  she'd  laid  her  eggs,  an'  tilt  her  over  on  her  hack." 
Even  though  the  boys  did  not  speak,  their  faces  show- 


.in.V  :<1.  1880. 


M.\i:iM-:i:-s  YOUNG  I-KMPLE. 


621 


ed  SO  plainly  how  sail  tln-y  were  :it  not  heinir  ahle  to  par- 
I  id  pate  in  such  irlori'ms  sport,  tliat  Captain  San  nny  added, 
ipiickly  : 

"  It'  it  can't  lie  done  this  year,  it  can  anotlier.  an'  when- 
ever you  ( e  you  know  you'll  l)c  welcome  here.  The 

pirate  an'  I  shall  stay  riifht  on  this  spot  till  my  old  bones 
are  laid  away  like  a  hale  of  sponges,  to  make  'em  read) 
for  the  ".n-it  Captain,  who  won't  ask  when-  I  hail  from. 

I  .at  \\  ill  on  I  \  v.  ant  to  know  if  1  sailed  close  bj  1 1  is  compass 

It  was  Tom  m  \  hen-"  and  the  little  man  laid  hi-  hand  af- 
fectionately on  the  hoy's  shoulder  "who  saved  m\  old 
life  when  it  wasn't  hardh  \\orth  the  saving,  an'  he  an' 
I'll  he  together  as  Ion y  as  I  slay  in  this  u  ..rid.  an  next  to 
him  it  was  yon  who  saved  me.  for  if  it  hadn't  heen  for 
yon  lie  wouldn't  have  heen  where  he  «  as.  I  ain't  much 
on  talkin'.  lads,  hut  m\  heart  is  in  the  rijrht  place,  an' 
all  I  can  say  is  that  jest  so  h.ni:  as  I've  not  a  roof  over  m\ 
head  or  a  deck  under  m\  feet.  jest  so  loiej  I'll  :_rive  you  up 
three  quarter-  of  it.  an'  he  "lad  of  the  chance." 

Captain  Sammx's  eyes  were  uvtlinir  suspiciously  red. 
and  when  he  lini-hcd  speaking;  he  arose  hastily  from  the 
tahie.  went  out  on  the  veranda,  where  the  hoys  found 
him  shortly  after,  sending  "p  ,-i'eat  idonds  of  lohacco 
smoke  in  the  most  furious  manner. 

After   that   the    /  \iicl  w  as  vi.siled   for  the   la-l   lime,  and 

with  hearts  heavj  ai  leaving  this  strangelj  a--,  .rte.l  couple. 

whom  lhc\  had  learned  to  like  so  \\ell.  the  last  adieus 
were  spoken,  and  the  hoys  were  on  the  steamer  hound  for 
hi 

Mthonnh  Dare,  Charley,  and  l'.ohii\  i'ul!>  intend, •(!  to 
visii  Florida  durine  the  following  winter,  circumstances 

|  ire  \  en  led.  and  it  u  as  not  tint  i  I  last  \  ear  I  ha  I  tin",  -iicceecl 
ed  in  so  doiii";. 

Then  the\  went  h\  the  WSJ  of  Jacksonville,  and  al- 
though they  had  never  seen  that  heaiiliful  winter  resorl. 
they  did  not  remain  there  an  hour  longer  than  \\as  neces- 
sar\  . 

There  was  hut  one  place  in  Florida  they  were  anxious 
to  reach,  and  l.ul  Iwo  persons  lhe\  particularly  wanted 
to  see.  That  place  was  Tampa,  and  those  persons  (  'aplain 
Sammy  and  his  pirate  Tonim> 


They  started  on  the  lirst  train  that  left  Jacksonville  for 
Cedar  Keys,  and  there  they  were  so  fortunate  as  to  land 
an  hour  hclVre  the  time  for  the  mail  steamer  to  start  for 
Tampa. 

They  had  {riven  no  hinl  of  iheir  intended  visit,  answer 
in"   Tommy's  last   letter  without  once  mentioning  the  suh 
jecl  thai   for  li  vi-  years  had  lain  SO  near  the  pirate's  heart 
then-  \  isit  to  him  since  he  had  h.-come  a  steady,  honest  h..\ 
Therefore    there    was    no    familiar    face    to    "reel    them    as 
they  landed  from  the  sti'iuncr,  and  they  were  all  the  Letter 
pleased  that   it   \\  as  so.  for  the  surprise  would  he  ihe  more 

complete. 

1  in  riii;:'  I  he  li  \ .-  \  ears  I  hey  had  heen  ahsenl  from  Tampa 
they  had  h\    no  means  forgotten  the  wa\    to  (  'aplain  Sam 
mv's  house,  and  w  lieu  they  approached  it,  they  were  thor 
..uglily  well   plea-ed  at  sce'mjr  evidences  that  the  "  famih  " 
were  at  home  and  unaware  of  their  presence. 

I  'aplain  Samm\  's  fain  i  liar  LiTiill'  voice  ca  I  led  out  "Come 
in!'  in  response  I"  their  knock',  and.  Opening  the  door, 
i  he\  saw  the  little  ('aplain  leaning  hack  in  his  favor- 
ite chair  smokiii"..  \\hih-  sealed  al  the  lahle  uas  Tommy 
Tucker  l!asse|  hi-  havimr  lolljr  since  heen  legally  adopted 
h\  ('..plain  Sainm.x  reading  aloud  from  one  of  ihe  little 
man's  favorite  authors 

It   was  a   hearty  ".rcetiii"  lhal   holh  the  occupants  of  the 

cottage  "ave  them,  ami  the  three  \\eckslhey  s]ient   there 

-    full   Of  enjoyment   as  (  'a  pi  a  in  Samm\    anil    his  pi 

rale     as   he  would  still   persisl    in   calling  him,  very   much 

to  Tomm\  's  confusion      could  lill  them. 

Allhoui;-h  thi-\   did   not  atlempl  to  reach  the  Kveryladi  - 

lin,  thej  look  man\  a  cruise  ill  the  I'cur/.  which  looked 
as  hriyhl  and  new  as  if  she  had  just  heen  hnill.  and  when 
al  last  iheir  \  isil  w  as  ended.  (  'aplain  Sammy  and  Tommy 
took  I  IM  MI  to  (  'e.lar  l\e\  s  in  the  yacht. 

••  Come  soon  again, "said  the  little  man,  as  they  parted 

al  the  railroad  station.  "1  don't  tell  you  not  to  foi-"et 
us.  for  that  I  know  you  never  will,  and  you  may  he  sure 
lhal  we  shall  never  t'orjrcl  you.  for  my  pirate  learned  what 
pleasure  there  was  in  leading  an  upright,  (lod-feai'injr  life 
when  you  hoys  came  down  here  and  took  the  joh  of  rais 
ill",  the  I'l-m-l.  (  iood  hy." 


A    MIDSfMMKK    XIGIIT.S    CONCERT. 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  CABLINGS. 

Feet  that  dance  lightly, 

Eyes  that  smile  brightly, 
Faces  as  sweet  as  the,  morn ; 

These  dear  little  misses 

tin  thousands  of  kisses 
Uave  fed  since  the  day  they  were  bom. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

TIHE  Postmistress  would  like  to  have  every  boy 
and  girl  read  the  following  letter : 
" Frederick  Hchtiltz.  Esq. : 

"  DKAH  sn:.— At  the  time  of  the  panic  in  Gram- 
mar School  No.  i">,  June  K,  I  noticed  from  the 
published  accounts  that  your  little  boy  Freder- 
ick, aged  eight,  showed  great  courage  and  pre- 
set  f  mind  in  endeavoring  to  allay  the  panic  in 

the  boys' department,  instead  of  getting  fright- 
ened and  increasing  it.  and  tliat  a  young  girl  of 
t lie  same  age.  .Jennie  Heck. was  equally  cool-head- 
ed in  the  girls'  department.  I  consider  it  so  im- 
portant that  such  qualities  should  be  commend- 
ed as  an  example  to  ..thers  that  I  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  having  a  gold  badge  prepared  cum- 
memorating  the  action  of  each  of  these  children  ; 
and  having  ascertained  your  name  and  address 
from  Mr.  Pettigrew.  principal  of  the  school,  I  M'nd 
the  tine  for  your  son  herewith,  and  tru>t  yon  will 
permit  him  to  accept  it,  and  hope  tliat  it  may  be 
the  means  of  encouraging  others  not  to  lose  their 
heads  under  like  circumstances.  A  single  pel's,. 11 
with  e.mrage  and  presence  of  mind  can  stop  a 
panic  in  the  beginning  that  afterward  probably 
nothing  could  allay,  and  nothing  but  just  such 
presence  of  mind  as  that  exhibited  by  these  chil- 
dren can  prevent  disastrous  consequences  when 
an  accident  orafoolish person occasn  >nsau  alarm. 
Congratulating  you  and  Mrs.  Schnltz  upon  the 
qualities  shown  by  your  son,  1  remain, 

"  Very  truly,  F.  B.  THURBER." 

This  letter  was  addressed  to  the  parents  of  the 
quick-witted  little  hero.  The  badge  which  ac- 
companied it  is  in  the  form  of  a  double  Maltese 
cross  suspended  from  a  clasp.  It  bears  this  in- 
scription :  To  Frederick  Schultz.  eight  years  old, 
for  courage  and  presence  of  mind  at  Grammar 
School  No.  as.  June  8, 1883. 

The  story  of  the  panic  is  one  which  I  would 
like  to  have  you  all  remember.  There  was  in 
reality  notliing  the  matter,  the  whole  trouble 
having  been  caused  by  the  foolish  behavior  of 
two  or  three  little  folk.  One  of  Freddie's  com- 
panions, when  questioned  after  the  affair  was  all 
•  iver.  said  :  "  There  was  no  fire  in  the  school.  It 
was  simply  one  of  those  sting  bees  they  call  darn- 
ing-needles that  came  in  the  window  and  fright- 
ened the  '-lass.  When  they  began  to  holler  and 
M  Tea  in,  Schiiltz  cried  out. '  Keep  still:  it's  nothin' 
at  all.'  One  little  boy  ran  to  the  window  to  throw 
himself  out,  and  Schultz  caught  him  and  pulled 
him  back,  saying. '  You'd  better  not  let  me  ketch 
you  doing  that  thing  again.'  He  kept  the  whole 
class  back  from  running  to  the  door  or  the  win- 
dows, and  so  none  of  'em  was  hurt," 

Freddie  himself  tells  the  story  as  follows : 
"There  was  a  big  sting  bee  came  in  and  fright- 
ened a  little  girl  next  me,  and  she  hollered,  'oh  ! 
oli"  find  then  other  boys  and  girls  cried. 'Oh! 
"li  and 'Fire!'  Then  they  began  to  run  for  the 
doors  and  windows,  and  I  shouted  to  them  that 


they  were  a  lot  of  fools.  I  caught  one  boy  going 
out  of  the  window,  and  made  him  sit  down  quiet, 
and  after  that  they  all  sat  down  quiet." 

When  asked  if  he  was  not  afraid  himself,  Fred- 
die replied.  "  No,  sir,  not  a  bit."  Then  some  one 
put  the  question.  "  If  there  had  been  a  real  fire, 
how  would  you  have  felt  r  To  this  he  answer- 
ed, very  simply,  "I'd  have  felt  bad,  sir,  but  I'd 
ha'\  c  I  ried  to  get  out  of  it  the  best  I  could." 

Freddie  is  a  bright-eyed  little  lad  eight  years 
old  now.  But  one  of  these  days  we  are  g<  .ing  to 
hear  of  him  as  a  cool,  determined  man  doing  his 
work  in  the  world  bravely,  and  winning  distinc- 
tion by  some  heroic  action  worthy  of  one  who 
showed  so  much  courage  and  spirit  when  a  very 
little  boy.  And  as  for  little  Miss  Jennie,  though 
we  do  not  know  the  particulars,  we  are  sure  she 
was  equally  prompt  to  act  with  presence  of  mind. 
City  children,  you  must  remember,  are  not  used 
to  these  noisy  insects,  as  country  children  are, 
and  this  accounts  for  their  fright, 

C,.0'P.*DO  SPRINGS,  COLORADO. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old,  and  I  have  no 
brother-  nor  sisters.  For  pets  I  have  two  kit- 
tens' their  names  are  Tiny  Tim  and  Thunder, 
and  their  mother's  name  is  Becky  Sharp.  Re- 
becca isn't  my  pet  at  all.  I  have  a  garden,  which 
•just  now  is  keeping  rue  busy,  because  it  has  been 
raining  for  two  or  three  days,  and  the  weeds 
have  got  a  goc.d  start. 

A  few  days  ago  I  went  over  to  Manitou  to  visit 
the  ( 'ave  of  the  Winds,  which  is  about  a  mile  up 
Williams  canon.  There  are  several  limekilns  and 
a  cabin  which  we  pass  on  the  way  to  the  cave  in 

the  canon.      In  one  place  the  walls  of  the-  eufioli 

come  so  near  together  that  there  is  only  just 
room  enough  for  a  carriage  to  pass  between 
them,  and  sometimes  we  drove  under  ledges  of 
rocks  hanging  over  our  heads  which  looked  as 
if  they  would  fall  down  on  us.  The  walls  of  the 
canon  are  from  four  to  six  hundred  feet  high, 
and  at  the  top  they  are  worn  into  strange  shapes, 
like  towers  and  castles  and  arches. 

The  trail  to  the  cave  goes  up  in  a  zigzag  course 
until  it  reaches  the  stairs.  These  stairs  we  climb 
to  the  entrance,  which  is  four  hundred  feet  above 
the  road.  In  the  first  room  we  registered,  and 
mamma  put  on  an  ulster  to  protect  her  dress 
from  the  drippings  of  the  candles  which  we  car- 
ried for  light. 

We  went  through  a  long  passage,  and  came 
into  Canopy  Hall.  There  is  a  projecting  ledge 
of  rock  in  this  room,  with  stalagmites  growing 
up.  and  stalactites  growing  down  from  it.  There 
are  two  large  dome  like  holes  in  the  canopy,  near 
the  edge.  The  canopy  is  of  rock,  and  grows  into 
the  room.  You  can  see  a  place  on  the  floor  where 
the  water  used  to  run  over  it.  forming  little  rip- 
ples, and  in  one  place  the  stalactites  looked  like 
an  icy  curtain.  Then  there  is  a  basin  more  than 
five  feet  deep,  when-  water  used  to  stand,  and 
the  water  which  rippled  over  the  rock  ran  into 
it.  This  is  crossed  by  a  bridge. 

There  are  a  great  many  ladders,  bridges,  and 
stairways  in  the  cave,  and  a  great  many  curious 
shapes  worn  in  the  rock.  One  of  these  is  called 
"  Mary's  Little  Lamb,"  another  is  the  "  Old  Hog." 
There  is  a  room  called  Music  Hall,  because  the 
formations  give  out  musical  sounds  when  struck. 
The  Museum,  which  some  people  call  the  liridal 
chamber,  is  the  prettiest  room  of  all.  There  are 
a  great  many  stalactites,  resembling  small  snakes 
and  serpent^,  twisting  upward.  Then  there  are 
stalactites  gro wing  together  in  pairs,  and  stalac- 
tites which  look  like  vases,  urns,  candlesticks, 
vegetables,  and  a  chandelier.  There  are  stalag- 
mites  which  look  like  figures  of  people  :  one  is 
the  "  Bride,"  one  is  "  Lot's  Wife,"  and  one  is 
the  "Judge."  Stalactites  are  formed  by  water 
dripping  downward,  like  icicles,  and  stalagmites 
by  water  dropping  on  the  floor,  and  they  grow 
upward.  Water  still  drops  from  some  of  the 
stalactites  in  the  Bridal  Chamber,  and  the  floor 
is  slippery,  and  they  have  placed  a  hand-rail  to 
keep  people  from  slipping.  Before  the  rail  was 
put  I  here  a  gentleman  -lipped  once,  and  broke  a 
fine  stalactite.  Th>  r  in  maiiyniore  wonderful 
things  to  be  seen  in  the  cave.' but  there  is  not 
time  to  tell  about  them.  EDWARD  DANA  S. 


OUR  STORIES. 

"  Pearl"  is  the  work  of  a  youthful  contributor 
•whose mother  says,  ina  note  to  the  Post  miM  n^-  : 
"  My  daughter  of  fourteen  years  has  written  this 
little  story,  and  has  asked  me  to  send  it  to  you. 
I  send  it  without  a  correction,  right  from  her 
pen."  If  the  Postmistress  may  venture  a  pre- 
diction, it  is  that  the  writer  of  "  Pearl"  may  hope 
to  do  still  better  in  a  not  distant  future  "  The 
Garden  Party,"  by  a  Brooklyn  girl,  is  also  well 
written,  and  full  of  promise. 
PEARL. 

I  had  been  at  the  hotel  four  months  before  I 
l»-an  to  take  any  notice  of  her.  I  did  remem 
her  seeing  every  Saturday  and  Wednesday  night 
a  little  figure  going  through  the  hall  carrying  a 
large  basket,  but  beyond  that  I  did  not  think  of 
her,  until  my  friend  Mrs.  Tichenor  suggested  Mrs 
Adams  for  a  laundress.  "  Nearly  all  "of  the  ladies 


here  have  employed  her  for  years,  and  since  your 
washer-woman  has  disappointed  you,  you  must 
trv  her.  my  dear." 

:-  Hut  how  can  I  see  her?'  I  asked. 

••  I'll  tell  Pearl  when  she  comes  for  my  things 
Saturday,"  my  friend  answered. 

Saturday  evening  came,  and  with  it  Pearl.  I 
remembered  Mrs.  Tiehenor's  promise  when  I 
lie  ml  a  tap  at  my  door  and  "Is  this  Mrs.  Hyde's?'' 

I  said,  "Come"  and  "Yes."  and  then  asked  if 
this  were  Pearl  Adams. 

"Yes,  missy"— dropping  me  a  courtesy—  and 
Mrs.  Tiehenor  said  as  how  you  wanted  mammy 
to  do  yer  wash." 

"  I  do  :  but.  little  one,  you  are  not  large  enough 
to  carry  this  great  basket." 

"1  knows  1  looks  little,  but.  missy,  I's  awful 
strong;  I's  used  to  it. too." 

What  a  funny  little  picture  she  made,  with  the 
crimson  velvet  port  lore  for  a  background,  a  short 
blue  petticoat,  green  shawl,  and  old  red  hood, 
looking  from  which  was  a  thin  but  peculiarly  ex- 

pre>si\  e  black  fa    e 

"  I 'carl !"  I  cried,  impulsively.  "Why  were  you 
named  that?" 

"  Reckon  'cause  I's  so  brack.  Our  folks  is  a-al- 
ways  doin'  tilings  by  deir  contraries,"  she  re- 
plied, bitterly. 

1  gave  her  some  cake  and  fruit,  and  she  finally 
walked  down-stairs  with  my  large  basket  poi-ed 
gracefully  on  her  head,  and  one  thin  arm  held  up 
to  steady  it.  During  the  two  years  that  follow- 
ed she  came  regularly  twice  a  week,  taking  the 
clothes  Sat  urday.  anil  returning  them  Wednesday 
evening.  Hut  one  Wednesday  evening  came, and 
no  Pearl  appeared.  Thursday  also  passed,  and 

some  ol    I  I"'   laclii  -  '  amc   to    rn\    room  1,.  ask   it    1 

had  heard  of  the  child,  for  I  was  known  to  he  one 
of  her  special  favorites  among  the  hotel  ladies. 
My  Friday  the  gentlemen  waxed  impatient — un- 
gfatcful  creatures  !  served  faithfully  so  long,  and 
now  angry  on  account  of  the  non-appearance  of 
a  polished  bit  of  linen!  Hut  Saturday  morning 
the  clothes  came,  and  in  my  basket  this  note  : 

"mammy's  dead,  i  ain't  comin'  no  more,  plese 
tel  thee  ladys.  PEARL." 

"What  is  the  child  to  do?"  I  inquired  of  the 
Irishwoman  who  returned  the  elotbes. 

"  Niver  a  bit  do  I  know.  Dade  if  it  wasn't  for 
me  own  six  childer.I'd  take  and  kape  her  meself" 

We  ladies  consulted,  and  finally  Mrs.  Mdray 
decided  to  take  her  in  her  suite  to  have  charge 
of  her  baby  evenings,  for  her  regular  nurse  per- 
sisted in  having  her  evenings  to  herself  at  lea*t. 
That  baby  was  the  gentlemen's  /•''/.  nntr.  and  my 
husband 'himself  said.  "If  that  Pearl  of  yours 
succeeds  in  keeping  the  McCray  baby  quiet,  I'll 
give  her  a  gold  eagle  Christmas." 

Pearl's  evenings  were  to  be  entirely  given  up 
to  little  Freddy  McCray.  her  days  to  running  er- 
rands for  the  other  ladies  of  the  house. 

So  she  came.  Though  naturally  of  a  bright  dis- 
position, she  mourned  her  mother's  death,  and 
longed  for  her  own  sunny  South,  whence  she 
had  come  five  years  before.  "  Pappy's  brother's 
there,  and  mammy's  aunt,  and  all  de  folks,"  she 
said  so  often:  but  it  was  a  longtime  before  her 
desire  was  fulfilled.  Her  work  was  not  hard,  but 
by  degrees  she  grew  thinner,  and  the  nurse-maid 
of  a  fashionable  hotel  longed  once  more  for  the 
wash-tub  and  ironing  table. 

Her  fifteenth  birthday  brought  her  a  rich  sur- 
prise. The  ladies  selected  me  to  tell  her.  I  took 
her  into  my  room,  and  opened  the  conversation  by 
saying,  "Pearl,  I  suppose  you  know  that  pretty 
Miss  Stacy  is  to  be  married  in  two  weeks  to  the 
Southern 'gentleman,  and  will  leave  dear  Boston 
for  Richmond." 

"Oh  yes,  missy,  I  heard  'em  tell  of  it:  but  I 
didn't  know  that  was  Richmond  whar  she  was 
a-goin'  to  live.  That's  whar  de  folks  live  an' I 
used  to  live,  two  or  free  miles  out." 

"Yes.  little  Pearl:  but  guess  what  we  are  go- 
ing to  give  Miss  Stacy  for  a  wedding  present." 

"  Don"  know.    Is  it  anything  to  wear?" 

"Nothing  to  wear,  dear;  but  Miss  Stacy  has 
everything  she  can  possibly  wish  except  a  little 
colored  maid,  and  we  arc  going  to  give  her  one. 
The  maid  is  a  little  girl  who  has  been  here  at  the 

V for  many  months,  and  wishes  very  much  to 

return  to  her  own  dear  Southern  home.  Can  you 
guess  who  the  maid  will  be?" 

" Oh, missy, missy !  it  can't — it  can't  be  me!  It 
can't  be  true  !" 

"But  it  is  true.    Are  you  glad  now?" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  Sobbing,  she  threw 
herself  at  my  feet  and  wept,  and  cried,  every  now 
and  then.  "So  happy  '.  so  happy  !" 

The  two  weeks  passed  only  too  quickly.  The 
ceremony  was  performed,  and  the  next  day  three 
infinitely  happy  people  were  seated  in  a  parlor 
car.  waving  adieus  to  a  sorrowing  group  of 
friends.  The  two  oldest  of  the  three  wore  hap- 
py. Init  I  doubt  if  they  were  more  so  than  little 
Pearl,  who  seemed  to  fairly  glow  in  her  great 
new-found  joy. 

A  month  afterward  1  received  thi-  i  ostscript 
in  one  ,,f  Mrs.  Dalton's  letters: 

"DEAR  MISSY.— I's  jest  as  happy  as  1  can  be. 
Please  tell  'cm  allso.  I'I:M;I.." 


THE  GARDEN   PAIiTY. 

This  was  Friday,  and  tin-  following  Thursday 
would  be  Effle  Thorpe's  birthday,  and  she  and  her 
cousins,  who  were  visiting  her  for  the  summer. 


JULY  31,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


623 


were  racking  their  brains  for  a  plan  to  celebrate 
it  After  niii'-h  thinking  and  some  suggesting, 
Lulu  Kogers.  Kfti.  •'-  cousin,  propo-ed  ;i  garden 
party,  (iarden  partie-  were  uncommon  and  al- 
mo-f  unheard-of  things  in  the  small  country  vil- 
lage of  We-ton.  nnl  Mr.  Thorpe's  house  was 
large,  and  the  grounds  extensive.  This  plan,  they 
were  sure,  would  meet  with  approval.  l!e-id---. 
Lulu  was  noted  for  tin'  nuniher  of  plans  she  bad 
successfully  carried  out.  so  this  \vas  hailed  with 

jo\  .  ;  I  nil  accepted  a  Ml  id    -llont  -  a  In  I   < 

In  a  short  lime  it  was  all  arranged.  The  only 
thing  wanting  was  tin  consent  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thorpe,  which  it  \v;is  casv  to  obtain,  as  Kftie  was 
the  only  child  of  wealthy  parents,  who  thought 
tln->  could  not  do  enough  tor  her  Indeed,  th.-v 
l ui^ht  well  he  proud  ot  her  she  was  a  gi  "id  girl, 
and  dutifully  repaid  all  their  affection. 

It   is  needle--  to   -ay    that    Kflie  entered   into  the 

arrangements  with  spirit.  Invitations  were  is- 
sued for  rich  and  poor,  for  so  Kftie  would  have 
it.  Nothing  was  l;ilked  of  in  the  village  hut  the 

"party  up  at    Thorpe's,"  and   the   y.ning  folks 

w;iited  impatient  1  y  for  the  important  da\    to  ar 

rive. 

\t  la-l  it  dawned,  and  although  it  was  bright 
anil  clear,  it  was  not  -nltrv.  mid  every  one  was 
delighted  with  the  weal  her.  \t  S676n  o'clock  in 
t  he  evening  t  lie  part  y  a-scnd>|ed  It  was  ;l  pret- 
ty sight.  Lanterns  were  hung  in  every  conceiv- 
able place  atOUnd  t  he  house,  on  tin-  pia/./.as.  and 
on  t  he  trees,  and  TI early  every  girl  who  po--es-.-d 
a  white  or  light  dress  wore  it.  This  made  the 
Scene  a  ppear  all  the  prett  ier. 

(..inic-  were  introduced,  and  as  gam.-  led 

I..  an.iih.T  lhe\  h  i.l  ;i  nirrr\  time.  The  hours 
passed  very  pleasantly,  for  Kftie  did  her  duty  well 
as  hostess,  Game  after  name  w;i-  pla\.-d  until 

slipper  time.      The  servants  had  heell  directed   to 

Bel  a  table  in  the  arbor  f,  ,r  supper.  Kvery  kind 
of  fruit  in  season  was  on  it.  Cakes.  p>  ramids  of 

motto.--,  almond-,  rai-in-.  and    maca MS  were 

arranged  with  1a-lo.     Hricks  of  cream  were  set 

cat  leingh      II] Ill'-    ends    of    the    t;ible.  Mild    the 

birthday  cake,  will]  a  siUer  I, nite  will]  which  to 

cut  it .  and  which  was  a  present  from  her  mother, 
was  placed  directly  in  front  of  the  scat  Kftie  was 

t -eupv.      Al    last    all   was   reaih.  |hc  bell  was 

rung,  and  the  children  trooped  into  the  arbor, 
with  many  exclamations  about  the  beauty  of  the 

table 

supper,  like  all  things,  only  lasts  for  a  time, 
ami  I  In-  was  u  over. 

Tile   pia/./.as   off  the   parlor   were   broad   ami 
smooth,  and  a  dance  w  as  proposed  |,v  Kftie.     Se\ 
eral  boys  and  girls   were  -oon  whirling'  around. 
while  those  who  did  not  care  to  dance  played 

quiet  games,  or  watched  ti th.-r- 

It  was  a  happy  evening  to  Kftie  and  her  quests, 
and  one  Ihey  would  always  remember 

Afler  a  while  Mr.  Thorpe  ami  John  the  coach 
man  began  to  bring  out  -ome  thimrs  that  1- ioked 

Very  .plecr.       There  was    tO  be  B    sill-prise  to    Kft'le. 

Kaeh  of  the  children  tried  to  gne-s  what  it  was. 
but  each  guessed  w roni,',  a nt  i I  a  boy  exclaimed  : 
"oh,  I  know  what  it  is.  Kire  works  '" 

He  was  right,  and  for  two  hours  H liildren 

were  amused  by  them.  The  party  broke  up 
about  half  past  eleven,  and  every  on.-  was  t  ired 

Garden  parties  are  now  the  fashion  with  the 
Westoiiiaus.  but  not  one  i-  spoken  of  so  often  as 
Eftie's.  and  Lulu  declares  it  was  her  mo-t  -ne 
eessful  scheme  Gn.u  I.  l{\\ m  T. 

BK.'MKLVN.  Nu»    YOXK. 


I  In  i-n.mnr,;n,  OHIO. 

I';' pa  gave  m.'  your  pleasant  paper  tor  a  Christ- 
mas present,  and  I  like  it  very  much.  I  liked  the 
story  of  " Nan,"  although  1  did  not  get  to  read 
all  of  it.  as  it  was  about  half  finished  when  I  be- 
gan taking  the  paper.  1  am  glad  Mrs.  Lillie  is 
going  to  write  another  story. 

M\    papa   is  a   Presbyterian  minister,  and  we 

have  lived  here  fourteen  years        1  lillsborough  is 

a  small  city  of  about  four  thousand  inhabitants  ; 
it  is  about  sixty  miles  from  Cincinnati.  I  have 
two  brothers,  one  older  ami  one  younger  than  I 
am.  and  no  sisters.  My  older  brother  goes  to 
college.  My  little  brother  .lamie  will  be  nine 
next  month.  He  is  very  much  interested  in  the 
"  Raising  the  '  Pearl.' ''  ELLA  G.  McS. 


ST.  .liiMN-Bi-m,  VKIIV.INT. 

I  always  read  the  letters  from  young  corre- 
spondent-, ami  tind  them  quite  interesting,  and 
perhaps  some  one  may  enjoy  reading  a  letter  of 
mine.  I  am  fourteen  years  old.  When  I  was  sis 
months  old  I  had  the  scarlet  fever,  ami  lost  my 
hearing,  ami  have  never  heard  a  sound  since. 
When  I  was  four  years  old  papa  died  :  I  remeni- 
bcr  it  quite  well.  I  bewail  attending  the  Clarke 
Institution  for  Deaf  Mules  at  Northampton,  Mas- 
sachusetts, when  I  was  eight  years  old.  and  am 
still  in  that  school.  I  can  read  the  lip*  quite  well, 
and  my  friends  say  lhai  I  talk  very  nicely.  My 
mother  died  two  years  ago.  and  now  I  live  with 
some  dear  friends,  .Mr.  H.  and  his  wife,  during 
the  three  months'  vacation  in  the  summer.  My 
friends  have  a  horse  and  dog-cart .  and  I  enjoy 
riding  in  it  veryniueli.  I  sit  with  my  back  to  the 
horse,  so  I  can'  talk  easily  with  the  others.  My 
friends  have  very  many  hens  and  chickens,  and  I 
help  take  care  of  them. 

When  I  read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box 
I  often  think  of  my  pets.  Spot,  the  dog,  is  very 
fond  of  following  the  dog-cart,  and  chasing  all 


the  birds.     He  will  sit  up  and  beg  for  f I  or 

drink.  Beauty  is  a  large  Maltese  eat  that  is  very 
smart  and  handsom,-.  My  friend  gave  him  to 
me  la-t  -ntnmcr.  when  he  was  very  small.  Now 
he  performs  many  tricks:  will  sit"  up.  roll  ovi  r. 
jump  through  your  hands,  etc.  He  has  a  silver 
collar  w  ith  my  name  engraved  on  it.  and  a  small 
padlock.  If- 1\  a  I  is  a  small  tiger  kitten  about  two 
months  old.  'lie  is  the  smartest  kitten  I  ever 
saw.  V.  r\  olten  he  tight-  w  ilh  r.callty.  and  they 
[•lay  together  all  day  long.  I  have  three  small 
bantam  rim-kens  that  are  very  tame  and  cun- 
ning; I  heir  names  are  Daisy.  Jennie,  and  Millie 

Next  week  I  am  going  to  visit  my  uncle  on  a 
ta  rni,  and  then  I  shall  go  to  t  he  sea  shore  for  a 

tew  weeks  with  my  friends.  NIIHK  P. 

Though  deprixcil  .if  hearing,  your  letter  shows 
that  you  are  a  cheerful  and  happy  girl,  and  we 
are  all  delighted  w  ith  it. 


II  to  pick  her  pansies  if  she  wants  to  have  plenty 
more .-  MnuKic  I),  must  send  her  full  name  it  sin- 
wishes  any  one  to  exchange  with  her.  — Young 
gentlemen  can  not  offer  tire  arms  tor  exchange. 


I          i-  o.    ,,    <  1.11... 

I  thought  I  would  write  a  little  letter  t..  the 
Post  office  I'.nx  to  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoy 
•i"i  N..  I'IOI-IK.  We  have  taken  It  for  tour  years, 

and  I  don't  think  we  would  want  to  do  without 

ii.  a-  we  all  like  to  read  it,  even  mamma  ami  Aunt 

Maggie  ;  and  Kth.-l.  my  baby  sister,  never  can  tell 
her  minima  a  story  wln-u  she  is  going  to  sleep 
without  i  he  paper  in  her  hand  she  can'l  read 

a  word,  but  lei'-  her  -lories  from  the  picture-. 
,i  ii-l  makes  'in  m  \  <T\  cunning 

\\  e  all  w  .lit  lo  a  family  picnic  on  the  l'i  inrt  li 
of  .Inly,  and  we  had  a  "very  nice  time  fishing 
and  gathering  shells.  [  haven't  am  pel-,  but  I 
have  a  pretty  Mower  bed.  and  Ihe  II. .\\.-rs  arc 

grow  ing  -plendidh.      In  .  .iir  sunda\  -el I  they 

distribute  tlowvr  seeds  to  all  the  -eholars.  and 

then  in  t  he  l.ill  we  ha\  .-  a  11 1  \\  er  -oeial  tie        I  ha  ye 

written  enough  now.  L.ui:\  s 


M  o:-ll  01.   Mi 

I  am  a  lit  lie  girl  eleven  year-  old  I  -aw-  Davy 
T  's  letter,  [think  his  pet  is  a  squirrel,  it  is  very 
warm  here,  i  m  the  Fourth  of. Inly  1  shot  oft" 
firecrackers  i  m,.  little  boy  here  put  out  .me 
eye  and  injured  the  other  -o  he  can  not  u-e  it 
I  thought  I  w  mi  Id  -end  yon  a  receipt  f.  .r  -pong. • 
cake.  I  make  it .  ami  it  i-  g I  : 

i  IMC  egg  and  halt  a  cup  of  sugar  be  a  I  en  tog.-t  h 
cr,  hall  a  .-up  ol  u  at  er.  half  a  cup  of  Hour,  ami  a 
tea  -| HI  ill  of  bak  ing  ]H  .wcler. 

I  think  "  Nan"  ami  "Toby  Tyler"  are  th.-  be-t 
stories  1  ha\  c  read  in  ^  01  \,.  I'r.ori.K. 

AMELIA  N.  F. 

M..I-M  W.MIIM.T  ix.  M.HM  «M,. 

Iain  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  I  have  taken 
•i  .a  ....  I'K.pfi.K  since  the  first  iiuiiibcr,  and  I  like 
it  very  much.  I  am  going  to  collect  moths  and 
butterflies  this  summer,  I  like  the  new  story 
"In  Honor  Hound."  I  have  two  cats— or  I 
should  have  said  kittens;  their  names  arc  shep 
and  Ted.  Ted  is  black  and  gray  striped,  shep  is 
black  and  white;  they  are  both  very  cute.  My 
sister  ISartie  has  a  canary  bird  which  is  vcry 
tame;  he  will  hop  on  your  finger;  his  name  is 
I  'herry  Junior  The  (irsl  Cherry  was  my  bird,  and 
w  a-  as  old  as  1  was  when  he  died  ;  he  lived  to  ho 
ten  year-  old.  M\  papa  is  going  to  get  us  a  goat 
and  a  four  seated  wagon,  and  as  there  ate  four 
little  si-tcrs  of  us.  it  will  be  great  fun. 

BESSIE  D. 

I  wonder  if  the  goat  will  think  so  too. 


HARPER'S  I'OIN.I  Pi;ori.i:.  I  have  taken 
you  from  the  first  number,  and  I  think  that  yon 
are  splendid.  1  am  eleven  years  old.  and  very 
tall  for  my  age.  I  have  one  sister  w  ho  is  eight- 
een years  old.  I  was  not  well  last  winter,  ami 
did  not  go  lo  school,  but  I  had  l-'rench  and  music 
lessons  at  home.  We  live  opposite  a  large  square, 
so  it  is  nice  and  cool  in  summer.aild  a  splendid 
place  for  sledding  in  winter. 

MAUGAHET  Wn.t.is  i;. 


Justoon  It.:  I  have  placed  those  prettily  pressed 
ferns  in  my  I'.ihlc.  Thank  you. — Fnutiie  I),  and 
Ituisy  .'.  W.  :  Yon  both  sent  very  nice  little  let- 
ters. I  am  sorry  there  is  not  room  for  them  in 
the  Post-otlice  i:<>x,-s.  Portis  S. :  Write  again 
some  time. — Vem'tiji  K.IK:  I  would  like  to  see 
that  gentle  calf  with  the  dainty  name  Star. — 
William  H.  l>. :  Yon  must  get  another  turtle. — 
l&inlii-  F. :  Send  your  toys  for  Sadie  to  Sister 
Catharine,  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital,  40"  and  4iKi 
West  Thirty-fourth  street.  New  York.  I  hope 
your  pets  do  not  quarrel.  Is  puss  friendly  with 
the  bird?  Yon  are  spending  the  summer  in  a 
charming  neighborhood.  —  E.  H.  W. :  Yon  will 
never  he  at  a  loss  for  pleasant  occupation  if 
you  are  really  fond  of  reading.— Mnrioii  Mitchell 
D. :  You  were  very  kind  to  gather  the  pretty  grass- 
es and  daisies  for  me.  Thank  yon  very  much.— 
Frank  V.  S.,  Kditli  .1.,  S.  W.,  and  Tavie  >.  s. : 
Thanks  to  you.— Lulu  P. :  What  fun  you  have  in 
your  play  room  :  Annie  M.  1'..  Cora  W.,  Kditli  S., 
and  Arthur:  Write  again.— Warren  1!. :  Too  bad 
about  your  beautiful  goats.  I  am  gkid  you  are 
a  gardener. — M.  A.  P.  sends  word  to  Gracie  May 


RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTI.K  HorsKKKKl'KKS. 
YOKK-IIIKK.  PrnniNii  Two  cups  of  milk,  six 
table  spoonfuls  of  flour,  Iw.u-ggs.  four  tea  spoon- 
fuls of  baking-powder, and  a  pinch  of  salt  :  heat 
the  eggs,  then  pour  in  one  cup  of  milk  :  then  add 
the  flour,  then  tin-  other  cup  of  milk:  sift  the 
baking  -powder  with  the  Hour;  bake  in  a  hot, 

::n  .1-1  d    pan   tilteen    minutes. 

C.IOKIKS.— Half  a  cup  of  butter,  half  a  cup  of 
lard,  two  cups  of  sugar,  two  eggs,  a  cup  of  milk, 
three  tea-spoonfuls  of  baking-powder,  and  eight 
cups  of  flour  :  roll  them.  AI.IC  E. 

TAFFY.— Twelve  table  spoonfuls  of  mola--.-.. 
eight  table-spoonfuls  of  sugar,  eight  table  spoon- 
fuls of  water,  am!  three  table  spoonfuls  of  but- 
ter: cook  until  it  is  crisp  when  dropped  in  cold 
w  ater.  \1  \  i;.,  \  1:1  i  \Vn.i.is  H. 

HoMK-MAiiE  CANDY.  —  Two  cups  of  mola--.--. 
half  a  cup  of  sugar,  hail  a  cap  of  hullcr.  and  a 
I.  a  spoonful  of  vanilla  ;  boil  lift  ecu  ininiil  es,  ami 
put  in  buttered  pans  in  a  very  cool  place. 

HlKIHK    F. 


PUZZLES  FKOM  YoCNi;  '  ONTUIBUTORS. 
N,,.  I. 

RKIIKMilSl.s     \M>    TlUN-eo-IIToxs. 

1.— 1.  I  am  a  card  :  behead  me.  and  I  am  a  piece 
of  beet  :  curtail  me. and  I  am  that  which  all  the 
w  i-.-  avoid. 

-.'    I  am  a  dairy  product  :  bchmid  inc.  and  I  am 

a  1 1  n.  in  Ml  \  :   I «  head  me  again,  and   1  am  a   Latin 

pronoun. 

:(.  I  am  a  small  portion  :  behead  me.  and  I  am 
a  piece  of  Territory  ;  behead  me  again,  and  I  am 
-oniething  which  once  sheltered  Ihe  race. 

I  I  am  a  discouragement  ;  behead  me.  and  I  am 
a  natural  elevation  of  the  earth;  behead  me 
aga  in.  and  I  am  a  misb.rt  tine. 

:.  I  am  the  lightest  thing  in  the  world  :  trans- 
p.  isc  me.  and  I  am  the  hea\  ie-t 

ii  I  am  a  part  of  the  y.ar:  transpose  me.  and  I 
am  a  girl's  name  :  transpose  me  again,  and  I  am 
an  article  of  food  which  grows  in  India 

',.  I  am  a  vessel:  transpose-  me,  and  I  am  a 
child's  toy. 

s  I  am  a  Chinese  plant  :  transpose  me,  and  I 
am  a  verb,  without  which  life  would  soon  cease 
to  be. 

CIIAIII.ES  E.  and  Aimirit  H.  TIMMKHMAN. 

2. — 1.  I  am  found  in  every  room;  behead  me, 
and  I  become  what  bald  men  sigh  for;  behead 
me  again,  and  I  become  what  every  room  should 
have  ;  curtail  me  now.  and  I  becom.  a  I  own  men- 
tioned in  the  Bible.  WILLIAM  c,.  TIIAOI-AIK. 


No.  2. 
ENIGMA. 

Ill  carrot,  not  in  beet. 

In  shower,  not  in  sleet. 

In  apple,  not  in  pear. 

In  tumble,  not  in  tear. 

In  making,  not  in  spend. 

In  borrow,  not  in  lend. 

In  humble,  not  in  low. 

In  sailing,  not  in  row. 
My  w  hole  was  once  a  mariner  bold. 
Unjustly  scorned  when  he  grew  old. 

M    N.  H. 


No.  2. 
No.  3. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  I'.B. 

No.  1.    PAST  L  D  R  D 

ANTE  0  V  K  K 

STIR  K  K  N  A 

TERM  DRAW 

Earnest.  Doorstep. 

P  \V 

VIA  SHY 

PIANO  W  II  E  A  T 

ANT  Y  A  M 

O  T 

No.  4.  D 

c  I  I) 

CHAOS 

DIAMOND 

D  O  o  I,  Y 

S  N  Y 

D 

No.  5.  Preposition. 

No.  6.— 1.  Peach,  pear.    2.  Plum.    3.  Date.    4.  Fig 
5.  Lemon.    C.  Olive. 


Correct  answers  1o  pn/./.lcs  have  been  received 
from  Arabi  Hey.  Ida  Emma  Ilequcmbourg.  Kate 
c  .  H.  L.  P..  May  N.  S.,  Margaret  Willis  Baldwin, 
Klla  li,  McSurely,  Roy  Starr.  Kate  c..  Grove  Hin- 
man.  Charles  II.  Weigle.  Jun  .  Maude  Ii..  Percy 
Fish.  Kose  M  II  .  liessie  Ilixon.  s.  Portis  Stabler, 
Raymond  Dodge.  Leander  Barclay.  Fannie  S.,  Otis 
Foster.  Walter  Pyle,  Alice  Dewey.  Gazctta.  Vici, 
Ifaldie,  Samuel  Branson,  Venetia  E.  Donovan, 
and  Ned  Larkin. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.} 


624 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


AX   ELEPHANT  RA/AR. 

BY  GEORGE  FOLSOM. 

ALTHOUGH  many  of  our  yonug  readers,  no  doubt,  have  seen 
or  heard  ol'  this  peculiar  structure,  to  the  ma.jority  it,  will 
be  a  novelty.  The  Elephant.  I'.nilding  is  situated  al  S<mth  At- 
lantic City,  iu  Nr\\  .Ier>e\ .  and  is  visited  daily  by  large  numbers 
of  excursionists  and  those  who  live  on  the  sca.-shore.  As  you 
look  from  the  window  of  the  car,  when  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  the  mamnioth.it  is  hard  to  believe  that  the  object  is 
not  a  real  live  animal.  When  yon  get  closer,  however,  the  mech- 
anism becomes  apparent,  and  certain  sharp  corners  in  the  limbs 
and  toes  reveal  the  deception. 

The  body  of  the  Elephant  is  :!8  feet  long  anil  s-i  feet  in  cir- 
cumference ;  the  head  is  2ti  feet  long  ;  the-  legs  are  22  feet  long  : 
the  ears  are  17  feet  long,  10  feet  wide,  and  each  weighs  2000 
pounds;  the  tail  is  2(i  feet  long:  the  trunk  is  36  feet  long;  the 
tusks  are  22  feet  long;  and  the  eyes  are  18  inches  in  diameter, 
and  are  made  of  glass. 

The  entrance  to  this  curious  house  is  in  the  hind-leg,  ami  may 
be  seen  in  our  illustration.  After  climbing  a  very  narrow  and 
steep  staircase  we  come  to  the  only  room  of  any  importance  in 
the  Elephant.  Here  we  tind  photographs  and  souvenirs  of  the 
monster  on  sale,  and  by  mounting  a  platform  in  the  front  part 
of  the  room,  and  passing  through  a  small  door  to  a  little  space 


hardly  worth  calling  a  room,  we  find  by  climb- 
ing on  a.  convenient  beam  that  we  can  look 
out  to  sea  through  the  eye  of  the  animal. 

Ill  going  to  tin-  small  rooms  which  were 
made  bv  (lie  snace  left  over  after  the  main 
room  had  been  laid  out  we  are  enabled  to  see 
what  an  immense  number  of  pieces  of  wood 
make  the  body  of  this  funny  house.  The  plan 
for  this  building  is  said  to  have  been  made  in 
Europe;  and  the  scheme  for  building  it  there 
having  failed,  the  plan  was  secured  by  the 
persons  who  now  own  the  building.  How 
any  one  could  have  carried  the  plan  in  his 
Lend,  or  have  written  definite  directions  for 
the  construction,  will  puzzle  most  persons  who 
have  seen  the  criss-cross  manner  in  which  the 
wood-work  has  been  put  in.  However,  the 
plan  has  been  carried  out.  and  the  result  is 
certainly  very  pleasing.  The  whole  animal 
is  sheeted  with  tin  outside,  and  the  howdah 
which  surmounts  the  body  is  a  very  pretty 
observatory,  as  yon  can  see  in  the  picture. 
The  trunk  runs  down  into  a  circular  box  or 
stand.  This  was  done  presumably  to  give 
steadiness  to  the  front  end  of  the  animal. 
The  mouth  has  a  red  wooden  •' clapper,"  fixed 
on  a  hinge,  I  believe,  to  represent  the  tongue. 
The  mammoth  looks  straight  out  to  sea, 
and  some  of  the  eyeglass  venders  in  (he  vi- 
cinity say  that  it  is  wondering  if  it  will  ever 
get  back  to  Africa.  There  is  a  story  told  to  the  effect  that  when 
this  structure  was  being  finished  a  large  whale  came  up  near 
shore,  looked  at  the  Elephant  for  a  moment,  and  then,  with  a. 
snort  of  defiance,  sank  again  into  the  depths. 


THE  FIVE-DOT  CAME. 

IT  is  capital  fun,  we  assure  yon.  Any  number  can  play,  but 
each  player  must  be.  provided  with  a  sheet  of  \\hite  paper 
and  a.  pencil.  All  nnist  then  mark  live  dots  in  any  arrangement 
on  the  piece  of  paper  before  him.  and  pass  it  to  his  next  neigh- 
bor at  the  left  hand.  He  then  takes  the  dotted  paper  which 
has  been  handed  to  him,  and  tries  to  draw  on  it  some  human 
figure  in  such  a  posture  as  to  bring  one  of  the  five  dots  at  the 
middle  of  the  top  of  the  forehead,  one  at  the  point  of  each  foot, 
and  one  at  each  hand. 

But  no  one  must  take  longer  than  a  certain  time,  say  five  or 
ten  minutes,  in  making  his  picture.  The  results  sometimes 
are  very  laughable,  and  the  game  calls  for  a  good  deal  of  in- 
vention and  skill. 

We  do  not  see  why  a  number  of  these  rude  drawings  should 
not  be  collected  into  an  album,  with  the  author's  name  to  each. 
It  would  be  as  sensible  and  amusing  as  a  pigograph  album,  or  an 
album  for  mental  photographs.  What  do  you  say,  little  people  " 


'• 


SPORTS   ix  SHANTY  THWX. 


BILLY   MAKES    A    HOME    7.TN. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  197. 


.isTiKi.  i;v   IIAUI'KR  iv   ]',i;<>T!IKi;s,  Ni  w  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday.   \i]i,'ii*t  7,1883. 


Copyright,  18S3,  by  HAKPXB  A  BHOTHKRS. 


SI. 50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE  FLOWER  MISSION. 

11Y  Al'NT  MAH.HIIilK  I'HK-  Kl'T. 

VLL  children,  rich   and 
poor,  love  llo\\  ers.     A 
wcc  ".-irlie  (if  my  ;ici|ii:iinl 
aiicc  was  told  by  her^rand 

mil::!!,:     I  |M|    she   m  ll  -I    lull 

pick  the  Mowers  in  the  yar 
ilcn  w  ithoiit  permission. 
She  looked  very  thought 
fill,  and  hy  and  hy  said. 
"  When  \  on  coine  to  my 
house  you  may  pick  the 

f'owerswivoutaskingme." 

I  have  never  \  .-I  ualked 
through  a  certain  narrow 
city  street  crowded  with 
r:i".-u-e(l  cliildren  without 
hciny  touched  hy  the  ea.i;er 
\vay  in  which  they  look  at 
a  rose  or  a  pink  if  I  hap- 
pen to  have  such  ,1  tiling. 
"  (  )h,  please  <;i  ve  me  one  .' 
is  a  request  1  have  heard 
many  a  time.  See  how 
wistful  and  tlelijjhted  are 
the  faces  in  the  picture,  as 
tlie  child  within  the  yate 
hands  the  jiretty  bouquet 
to  the  child  on  the  other 
side.  It,  was  from  just  such 
scenes  as  this  that  a  sweet 
e-irl  in  Host  on,  so  long- ago 
as  1SC>'.),  yot  the  idea  of  the 
lirst  Flower  Mission. 

She  observed  that  when- 
ever she  went  into  the  city 
with  flowers  in  her  hands 
she  could  easily  distribute 
them,  one  by  one,  among 
the  poor  children  she  pass- 
ed on  the  street.  She  con- 
sulted with  friends,  and 
presently  a  notice  was  read 
in  one  of  the  churches, 
stating  that  a  mission-room 
would  be  open  at  a  given 
hour  on  a  day  which  was 


A    VERY    SMALL    BRANCH    OF   THE    FLOWEH    MISSION.— DRAWN-  BY  W.  A.  ROGEHS. 


626 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


named,  and  that  ladies  would  be  there  to  receive  all  the 
flowers  which  might  be  sent.  They  would  then  see  that 
they  were  taken  to  the  homes  of  the  poor  and  the  sick, 
to  the  hospitals,  and  even  to  the  prisons. 

Everybody  was  charmed  with  the  thought  of  this  lovely 
charity.  The  next  year  it  was  begun  in  New  York,  and 
il  is  of  the  New  York  Flower  Mission,  which  I  visited  the 
other  day,  that  I  will  tell  you.  The  plan  of  the  mission 
is  so  simple  that  a  few  young  people,  in  any  place,  who 
wish  to  make  others  happy,  may  adopt  it  if  they  choose. 
Very  little,  money  is  required.  A  great  deal  more  depends 
upon  willing  hands  and  ready  feet  to  gather  the  bright 
blossom  from  garden  and  field.  After  this  you  will  need 
a  convenient  room,  with  two  or  three  tables  and  chairs, 
and  then  the  same  willing  hands  must  be  ready  to  scatter 
the  cheery  messengers  where  they  will  give  the  most  com- 
fort and  do  the  most  good. 

Strangers  in  New  York  are  not  likel y.  once  having  seen 
it,  to  forget  the  handsome  red  and  white  striped  church  on 
the  corner  of  Fourth  Avenue  and  Nineteenth  Street.  Next 
door  to  this,  at  No.  239  on  the  avenue,  tucked  away  in 
the  rear,  are  the  rooms  of  the  Flower  Mission,  to  which 
you  are  directed  by  a  modest  little  sign  over  an  alley. 
Here,  every  Monday  and  Thursday  from  the  middle  of 
May  until  the  first  of  November,  between  the  hours  of  10 
A.M.  and  2  P.M.,  ladies  may  be  found  caring  for  and  dis- 
pensing the  flowers  which  are  sent  from  far  and  near. 

One  hundred  and  fifty-seven  towns  of  New  York,  New 
Jersey,  and  New  England  contributed  their  offerings  to 
this  mission  last  year,  and  in  several  instances  the  fragrant 
gifts  came  all  the  way  from  Florida  and  Texas.  The  ex- 
press companies  carry  and  deliver  this  precious  freight  free 
of  charge. 

During  the  summer  as  many  as  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  bouquets  were  given  away  in  the  various  homes, 
asylums,  and  hospitals  of  the  city,  and  besides  these  a  great 
many  are  taken  by  city  missionaries,  Bible-readers,  and 
charitable  ladies,  to  the  tenement-houses  where  air  and 
sunshine  do  not  penetrate  the  gloom,  and  where  the  poor 
mothers  and  babies  suffer  so  terribly. 

A  sweet-faced  woman  who  devotes  her  time  wholly  to 
the  poor  said  to  me,  as  I  asked  her  about  her  work.  "  1 
have  one  blind  girl,  who  watches  for  my  footsteps  every 
Monday,  and  her  smile  is  something  wonderful  when  I 
slip  a  fragrant  posy  into  her  thin  hand." 

Flowers  sent  to  this  mission,  or  to  the  one  nearest  the 
little  reader,  in  any  other  city,  should  be  carefully  packed. 
A  pasteboard  box  or  a  flat  basket  will  carry  them  nicely. 
Cover  the  bottom  of  this  with  a  damp  newspaper  or  a  few 
leaves  and  ferns.  Tie  the  flowers,  in  bunches,  each  kind 
by  itself,  and  pack  them  in  layers,  with  damp  paper  over 
each.  Sprinkle  the  upper  layer,  and  cover  it  tightly  to 
exclude  the  air. 

At  Christmas  the  Flower  Mission  opens  its  doors  for  one 
week ;  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  last  winter  it  was 
able  to  decorate  the  walls  of  the  hospitals  with'wreaths  of 
evergreen,  that  it  sent  beautiful  hot-house  flowers  to  the 
beds  of  the  sick  and  the  dying,  and  that  it  gave  four  thou- 
sand "splendid  little  Christmas  cards"  to  the  city  mission- 
aries, who  bestowed  them  on  the  children  at  Randall's 
Island,  and  in  other  charitable  institutions,  as  well  as  in 
the  tenements. 

I  almost  forgot  to  speak  of  the  children's  meetings 
which  all  the  year  round  are  held  once  a  week,  in  the 
down  town  mission  schools.  At  the  close  of  each  of  these. 
during  the  summer,  a  sweet  bouquet  is  given  to  each  child 
as  he  or  she  leaves  the  room,  and  you  may  be  sure  it  is 
lovingly  cared  for  until  its  last  bit  of  bloom  is  faded. 

Just  think  of  it,  Pansy,  Maudie.  and  Reggie,  the  flowers 
which  you  gather  and  send,  not  knowing  to  whom  they 
will  go,  are  little  missionaries  of  joy  and  good-will.  Be 
sure  the  Lord,  who  makes  the  flowers  grow,  sees  this  serv- 
ice done  to  His  little  ones,  and  is  pleased  with  it. 


WHO  IS  TO  DIE? 

A     STORY     OF    THE     sSOUTHK.li^T     SEAS. 
BY  DAVID  KEK. 

STAND  by  to  lower  the  boat!"  shouted  the  Captain; 
and  then  he  muttered,  gloomily,  to  himself,  "  It's 
our  only  chance  now." 

It  was,  indeed.  For  three  days  the  French  brig  St. 
Pierre,  homeward  bound  from  the  Isle  de  Bourbon,  had 
fought  against  as  fierce  a  gale  as  ever  swept  around  the 
stormy  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  Captain  and  crew  had  done 
all  that  men  could  do  to  save  the  ship,  but  in  vain.  Their 
only  chance  now  was  in  taking  to  the  one  boat  that  the 
storm  had  left  them. 

As  Captain  Picard  turned  round  from  giving  his  orders 
he  found  himself  suddenly  face  to  face  with  a  pale,  deli- 
cate-looking lady  in  deep  mourning,  who  had  just  come 
up  the  after-hatchway  with  a 'little  boy  in  her  arms. 

Poor  Madame  Lachaux  I  she  might  well  look  worn  and 
sad.  Her  husband  had  gone  home,  an  invalid;  her  only 
daughter  had  died  a  few  weeks  before;  and  now,  just  as 
there  seemed  a  chance  of  her  seeing  home  and  friends  once 
more,  Death  in  his  worst  form  was  hovering  over  herself. 
Captain  Picard  broke  to  her  as  gently  as  possible  the 
fatal  news  that  the  ship  was  sinking,  and  that  their  only 
hope  was  to  take  to  the  sea  in  a  small  boat.  At  this  an- 
nouncement the  poor  mother's  sickly  face  grew  paler  still, 
and  she  pressed  her  child  convulsively  in  her  arms. 

"Ma'amselle  no  fear,  "said  a  huge  Senegal  negro,  emer- 
ging from  the  hatch  way  at  that  moment;  "old  Achilleand 
Pierrot  take  care  of  her  and  Monsieur  Henri  too. — Mon- 
sieur Henri,  come  to  Achille  ?" 

He  took  the  child  in  his  arms  as  he  spoke,  while  a  second 
negro  came  up  to  help  the  Captain  in  lowering  Madame 
Lachaux  into  the  boat,  which  was  so  fiercely  tossed  by  the 
surging  waves  that  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  reach  it. 

At  last  the  boat  was  full,  and  they  shoved  oil.  Hardly 
had  they  got  clear  of  the  ship  when  she  gave  a  violent 
roll,  plunged  forward,  rose  again,  and  then,  with  a  sound 
like  distant  thunder,  the  in-rushing  water  blew  up  the 
decks,  and  down  wen.t  the  doomed  ship  head-foremost. 

But  those  in  the  overloaded  boat  soon  found  that  they 
had  only  exchanged  one  danger  for  another.  The  huge 
waves  that  broke  over  her  every  moment,  drenching  them 
all  to  the  skin,  filled  the  boat  faster  than  they  could  bale 
her  out;  and,  crowded  together  as  they  were,  they  had  no 
room  either  to  row  or  to  make  sail.  The  sailors  whis- 
pered together  and  looked  gloomily  at  the  lady  and  her 
party,  and  at  last  one  was  heard  to  mutter : 

"Better  get  rid  of  them  that  can't  work  than  of  them 
that  can,  anyhow.'' 

"  Our  lives  are  as  precious  to  us  as  theirs  are  to  them," 
growled  another.  "If  the  boat's  got  to  be  lightened, 
they're  the  ones  to  go." 

The  Captain,  who  had  heard  and  understood,  felt  for  his 
pistol,  but  it  was  gone.  Several  sailors  were  already  on 
their  feet  to  fling  the  helpless  mother  and  child  overboard, 
when  the  two  gigantic  negroes  stepped  between. 

"Look,  see,  you  men,  "cried  Achille :  "you  want  lighten 
boat.  Blackman  heavier  than  white  lady.  Suppose  you 
swear  let  madame  and  Monsieur  Henri  live,  I  a*nd  Pierrot 
jump  overboard!" 

It  was  all  over  in  a  moment.  Scarcely  had  the  savage 
crew,  moved  in  spite  of  themselves,  given  the  required 
pledge,  than  the  brave  fellows,  kissing  their  mistress's 
hand  and  embracing  little  Henri  with  a  quiet  "Good-by, 
little  master."  plunged  headlong  into  the  sea. 

The  heroic  sacrifice  was  not  made  in  vain.  The  boat, 
thus  lightened,  could  ]„.  ni()re  easily  managed,  while  the 
gale  began  at  length  to  show  signs'  of  abating.  On  the 
following  afternoon  they  were  seen  and  picked  up  by  an 
English  schooner,  and  a  few  weeks  more  .saw  Madame 
Lachaux  safe  in  her  husband's  house  at  Lyons. 


AUGUST  7,  1S83 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


62? 


Three  months  later  madame  and  her  sick  husband  were 
on  a  visit  to  Saint  -  Malo,  the  fresh  sea  air  of  which  was 
thought  better  for  little  Henri  at  that  season  than  hot, 
dn-,1  v  Lyons.  Tin-  child  and  his  mother  ithis  time  accom- 
panied by  Monsieur  Lacbaux  himself)  were  sitting  on  a 
bench  under  the  trees  of  the  boulevard  facing  the  harbor, 
\vhen  the  lady's  attention  was  attracted  by  a  few  words 
that  fell  from  a  rough-looking  man  in  a  well-worn  pilot 
emit,  who  was  talking  to  a  friend  a  feu  \  an  Is  <>H'. 

"And  now  that  they  urr  here."  said  he.  as  if  finishing 
a,  story,  "I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  them,  for  they 
don't  even  know  where  their  mistress  lives." 

"'Where  did  ymi  say  you  picked  them  up  .'"  asked  his 
companion. 

"  A  bit  to  tin-  sou'west  of  the  Cape,  hanging  on  to  some 
broken  spars  that  must  have  floated  of!'  frmii  their  vessel 
when  she  foundered.  When  I  found  out  that  they  were 
Senegal  negroes  I  offered  to  put  'em  ashore  there  on  the 
way  to  France;  but  no.  they  must  come  home  to  tind 
their  mistress,  and  I  can  tell  you  they  worked  their  pas- 
sage like  men.  But  how  they're  to  tind  her.  /  can't 
think,  for  they  know  nothing  except  that  her  name's 
Madame  Lacbaux." 

.  "  And  here  she  is,"  broke  in  the  lady  herself,  stepping 
up  to  him. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  faithful  negroes  ithus  rcM-iu'd 
as  if  by  miracle  from  the  death  to  which  they  had  devoted 
themselves)  were  em  I  tracing  their  "  lillle  Monsieur  1  len  ri " 
with  uproarious  cries  of  jo\  ;  and  from  that  day  until  their 
death,  thirty  years  later,  I  hey  were  the  happiest  as  \\eil  as 
the  best-cared-for  servants  in  the  u  hole  south  of  France. 


THE  ADVENTUKES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.* 

BY     ]NIRS.    W.    .T.    II.VVS, 

AlTllnl:  <>K  "1'UIXCESS   IllI.EWAYS."   "  Pllll.'-    I'uKII:-."    KTf. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LEO  \\as  ;i wakened  b\  being  rudely  jostled  about,  and 
tumbled  upon  the  tloor.  When  he  opened  his  , 
the  cause  was  apparent.  The  elves  had  found  their  beds 
ill  disorder,  and  not  being  able  to  see  him.  had,  in  their 
efforts  to  restore  order,  pitched  him  out.  Hardly  bad  Leo 
reached  the  floor  when  in  came  Pa/,  to  the  rescue. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  for  being  so  long  absent,"  he 
said,  "but  the  hunters  had  not  come  in  with  any  game, 
and  the  cooks  had  use  for  all  the  skillets,  so  that  I  was 
obliged  to  go  to  the  laboratory  for  a  vessel  large  enough  to 
hold  your  turnip.  Soup  is  made  in  great  quantities  for 
our  work-people,  and  by  adding  a  few  sauces  1  hope  I 
have  made  it  so  that  it  will  please  you.  If  you  come 
with  me  now  I  think  you  may  relish  your  meal." 

Leo  followed  Paz  to  a  small  cavern  hung  with  a  vel- 
vety gray  moss,  on  which  were  clusters  of  red  berries.  A 
small  electric  light  burned  in  a  globe  of  crystal  set  in 
bands  of  turquoise,  and  shone  upon  a  table  which,  like 
the  bed  he  had  used,  was  composed  of  several  small  ones. 
covered  with  a  cloth  of  crimson  plush,  over  which  was 
again  spread  a  white  fabric  of  the  thinnest  texture  and 
edged  with  lace.  On  this  was  laid  a  dinner  service  so 
small  that  it  was  evidently  more  for  ornament  than  use. 
Plates  of  crystal  were  bordered  with  gems,  and  jars  and 
cups  of  embossed  metal  glittered  with  precious  stones. 
He  was  obliged,  however,  to  eat  his  soup  from  the  tureen, 
and  the  turnip,  now  cooked  in  a  sort  of  jirifi'',  was  pre- 
sented on  a  silver  platter.  Slices  of  smoked  rabbit,  with 
salted  steaks  of  prairie-dog,  were  offered  in  place  of  the 
quail,  which  had  not  come;  but  Leo,  having  a  fondness 
for  sweets,  saw  with  wonder  one  tart  made  from  about  a 

*  Begun  in  No.  195  HARPER'S  Torso  PEOPLE. 


quarter  of  an  apple.  This  proved  to  be  such  a  sweet  mor- 
sel that  he  kept  Paz  running  for  more  until  he  had  eaten 
a  dozen.  No  wine  was  offered,  but  ices  which  looked  like 
heaps  of  snow  with  the  sun  shining  on  them  were  dissolv- 
ing in  glass  vases,  and  water  as  pure  as  the  dew  filled  his 
goblet.  Rising  refreshed  from  his  meal  Leo  met  Knops 
coming  toward  him.  He  had  exchanged  his  dress  for 
what  looked  like  a  bathing  suit  of  India  rubber. 

"Arc  you  rested  ;"  be  inquired,  kindly. 

"Oh  yes,  very  much,  and  I  must  thank  you  and  Paz 
for  so  good  a  dinner,"  responded  Leo. 

"  l>on't  mention  it.  If  I  had  not  acted  on  the  spur  of 
the  moment,  when  the  impulse  to  amuse  you  seized  me,  I 
would  have  been  better  prepared.  We  use  many  things 
for  food  which  you  would  disdain,  but  I  might  have  se- 
cured anti-lope  meat  or  Rocky  Mountain  mutton,  and  by 
way  of  rarity  something  from  Russia  or  China.  Have 
you  ever  tasted  birds'  ne>K  .'" 

"Never." 

"But  I  suppose  you  know  why  they  are  thought  so 
great  a  delicacy  .'" 

"No." 

"It  is  merely  the  gluten  with  which  they  are  fastened 
together,  so  to  speak,  by  UK;  birds,  which  renders  them 
agreeable.  The  ( 'hinese  like  rats,  and  in  this  we  agree 
with  them.  Well  dressed,  stuffed  with  chestnuts  or  ol- 
ives, and  roasted,  they  are  delicious." 

Leo  made  a   wry  face. 

"  Ah  '  vou  are  not  cosmopolitan." 

"What  is  that  :' 

"A  cili/en  of  the  world,  a  person,  free  from  national 
prejudices.  Ah.  these  words  are  long  for  you  ;  I  will  tryto 
be  simple:  you  have  not  learned  loeat  everything  that  is 
good." 

"But  rats  are  not  good;  they  are  vermin." 

"Bab!  yes.  because  you  let  them  feed  like  your  hogs  oil 
anything.  We  do  better;  we  pen  them,  and  give  them 
grain  until  they  are  fat  and  sweet,  and  make  them  eat- 
able." 

Leo  could  not  disguise  his  dislike,  so  Knops,  shrugging 
his  shoulders,  did  not  attempt  any  longer  to  convince  him, 
but  said, 

''Are  you  interested  in  what  I  have  shown  you  ?" 

"Certainly  I  am,"  said  Leo,  with  more  spirit  than  he 
had  ever  put  into  words. 

"  And  you  care  to  go  011  ?" 

''  Very  much." 

"  Prepare  then  for  great  exertion.  As  you  are  so  large 
it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  creep  through  many  pas- 
sages. I  am  going  to  take  you  to  see  our  water-works. 
The  visit  may  be  tiresome,  but  I  think  you  will  be  repaid. 
It  is  generally  supposed  that  giants  have  more  power 
than  we.  It  may  be  that  it  is  true,  but  I  think  it  is 
doubtful.  But  you  may  wonder  why  I  speak  now  of 
giants.  It  is  because  they  have  originated  the  opinion 
among  men  that  the  great  water-falls  and  cataracts,  such 
as  those  of  the  Nile  and  Niagara,  are  entirely  of  their  pro- 
ducing, but  we  all  know  the  familiar  adage,  '  Great  oaks 
from  little  acorns  grow.'  I  am  going  to  show  you  where 
the  little  springs  and  rivulets  have  their  rise.'' 

Leo's  attention  had  flagged  during  this  long  speech — he 
was  so  unaccustomed  to  many  words — but  now  his  inter- 
est revived. 

"Do  you  remember  a  certain  shady  spot  about  half  a 
mile  from  the  monastery,  beneath  a  group  of  birch-trees, 
and  overhung  with  alders  ?"  asked  Knops. 

"Do  I  not,  indeed?''  responded  Leo,  eagerly.  "It 
is  the  sweetest,  coolest  water  011  the  estate.  The  moss 
around  that  spring  is  just  like  green  velvet.  Many  a  time 
I  have  plunged  my  whole  head  in  it.  The  birds  know  it 
too,  and  always  come  there  to  drink.  I  sometimes  find 
four  or  five  of  them  dipping  in  at  once;  it  is  a  pretty 
sight  to  see  them  bathe ;  they  throw  the  water  up  under 


628 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


their  wings  until  they  drip,  and  then  they  are  hardly  sat- 
isfied." 

"Well, ''said  Kiiops,  ''we  have  the  supplying  of  that 
spring." 

All  the  time  they  had  been  talking  Knops  had  been  lead- 
ing the  way  through  long  passages  and  down  steep  steps, 
of  which  Leo's  long  legs  had  to  compass  several  at  a  stride. 

Now  they  came  to  a  low  tunnel  through  which  Leo  had 
to  creep  for  what  seemed  to  him  miles.  Strange  to  say, 
the  weariness  which  so  often  compelled  him  to  rest  or 
doze  seemed  to  be  leaving  him.  He  felt  an  altogether  new 
impulse,  a  desire  to  explore  these  recesses,  and  a  great  re- 
spect for  Knops's  learning  also  made  him  desirous  of  con- 
versation, which  was  something  he  had  always  avoided 
by  answering  questions  in  the  shortest  possible  way. 

The  tunnel  was  not  only  long  and  low,  but  it  was  drip- 
ping with  moisture,  and  the  air  oppressive  with  what 
seemed  to  be  steam.  Leo  heard  wheezing  and  groaning 
sounds,  which,  though  not  frightful,  were  very  peculiar, 
and  then  the  thump-thump,  as  of  engines. 

Very  glad  was  he  when  the  tunnel  opened  into  another 
large  cavern,  at  the  bottom  of  which  was  a  lake.  He 
could  not  have  seen  this  had  it  not  been  for  the  electric 
fluid  which  blazed  like  daylight  from  a  great  globe  over- 
head. On  the  margin  of  the  lake  were  all  kinds  of  hy- 
draulic machines,  small  as  toys,  but  of  every  conceivable 
form ;  derricks  and  wheels  and  screws  and  pumps,  and  all 
under  the  management  of  busy  little  elves,  who  panted 
and  puffed  and  tugged  at  ropes  and  wheels  and  pipes  as 
they  worked,  and  kept  up  a  constant  chant  not  unlike  the 
song  of  the  wind  on  a  stormy  night. 

Leo  watched  them  intently.  Once  in  a  while  one  rest- 
less little  sprite  would  turn  a  hose  upon  his  companions, 
when  the  chant  would  stop  long  enough  for  the  rest  to  dip 
him  head  and  heels  into  the  lake,  which  had  a  very  quiet- 
ing effect.  Leo  noticed  great  numbers  of  pipes  running 
up  the  sides  of  the  cavern  in  all  directions,  but  Knops 
soon  opened  the  door  of  what  he  called  "the  model- 
room,"  and  here  were  new  wonders  displayed. 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  model-room  of  the  elves'  water-work  department 
was  a  grotto  of  salt — glittering,  dazzling,  sparkling,  and 
flashing — divided  into  two  equal  parts,  or  as  if  a  huge  shelf 
had  been  placed  across  it. 

On  the  top  of  the  shelf  was  a  tiny  park  or  forest, 
•with  all  the  natural  differences  of  the  ground  exactly  rep- 


resented by  grasses,  plants, 
flowers,  rocks,  and  trees,  liv- 
ing and  growing,  but  on  a 
scale  so  small  that  Leo  was 
forced  to  use  a  microscope 
to  properly  enjoy  its  beauty. 
Even  the  herbage  was  minute, 
and  the  trees  no  larger  than 
small  ferns,  but  as  his  eyes 
grew  accustomed  to  the  glass 
lie  was  amazed  to  find  the 
hills  and  dales  of  his  home 
here  reproduced  in  the  most 
familiar  manner. 

It  was  truly  an  exquisite 
scene.  Field  upon  field  dot- 
ted with  daisies,  woodland  as 
dense  and  wild  as  untrained 
nature  leaves  it,  and  hill  upon 
hill  clambering  over  one  an- 
other, all  so  minute  and  yet. 
so  real,  and  dashing  down 
from  the  tiny  mountains  was 
a  stream  of  foaming  water, 
winding  about  and  gathering 
in  from  all  sides  other  tribu- 
tary brooks  so  small  that  they  would  hardly  have  floated 
a  good-sized  leaf. 

And  now  Leo  understood  the  meaning  of  it  all.  as  In- 
looked  underneath  the  shelf  where  tiny  pumps  and  rams 
were  forcing  up  the  water  for  this  stream. 

Knops  touched  a  spring  and  set  a  new  series  of  wheels 
in  motion,  when,  instantly,  a  gushing  fountain  flowed  up 
in  a  small  stone  basin  beneath  a  rustic  cross:  then  a  little 
lake  appeared,  on  which  were  sailing  small  swans;  and 
linnlly,  a  rushing,  roaring  flood  started  some  mill-wheels 
and  almost  threatened  destruction  to  tin-  tiny  buildings 
upon  its  banks. 

"  This."  said  Knops,  "shows  you  how  we  use  the  power 
of  our  reservoirs,  but  it  can  give  you  no  idea  of  the  im- 
mense trouble  we  have  in  laying'  pipes  for  great  distance-,. 
Some  of  our  elves  find  it  so  difficult  that  they  beg  for  oth- 
er work,  and  many  run  off  altogether  and  live  above- 
ground,  inhabiting  the  regions  of  springs  and  brooks,  and 
so  muddying  them  and  tilling  them  up  with  weeds  that 
men  let  them  alone,  which  is  just  what  they  desire." 
"  Do  fish  ever  clog  your  pipes  ?''  asked  Leo. 
"Never.  We  have  none  in  our  lakes;  the  water  is  too 
pure  and  free  from  vegetable  matter  for  fish.  It  is  dou- 
bly distilled.  Taste  it." 

Leo  took  the  glass  which  Knops  offered,  and  confessed 
lie  had  never  tasted  anything  more  delicious. 

We  sometimes  force  carbonic  gas  into  mineral  springs, 
hut  that,  as  well  as  the  salts  considered  so  benelicial,  is 
left  to  our  chemists  to  regulate.  Paz,  do  you  know  any- 
thing about  this  '." 

"Not  much,  Master  Knops.  I  have  seen  iron  in  vari- 
ous forms  introduced,  but  think  that  is  usually  controlled 
by  the  earth's  formation." 

Leo  sighed  at  his  own  ignorance,  and  vowed  to  study 
up  these  matters;  but  Kiiops,  seeing  his  look  of  dejection, 
asked.  "How  would  you  like  a  bath  ?" 

"Delightful.  Where.'  Surely  not  in  the  lake;  it 
looks  so  cold  and  glassy  I  should  not  dare." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  laughed  Knops.  "Do  you  think  I'd  let 
you  bathe  in  a  reservoir  ;  Never!  We  are  too  cleanly 
for  that,  begging  your  pardon.  Here  is  our  general  bath. 
It's  quite  a  tub.  isn't  il  " 

"I  should  think  so."  said  Leo,  surveying  quite  a  spa- 
cious apartment,  about  which  were  pipes  and  faucets, 
clothes-lines  and  screens. 

Here  his  friend  left  him,  and  he  was  glad  to  doff  his 
garments  for  a  plunge.  He  found  that  he  could  make 


AUGUST  7,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


629 


the  water  hot  or  oold  at  will,  and  so  luxurious  was  it  that 
he  would  have  staid  in  any  length  of  time  had  not  a  crowd 
of  elves  come  chattering  in.  and  with  whoop  and  scream 
surrounded  him.  Though  they  could  not  see  him.  they 
were  conscious  of  some  disturbing  force  in  the  water,  and 
in  an  instant  a  lot  of  them  had  scrambled  on  his  hack, 
and  were  making  a  boat  of  him.  They  pulled  his  hair 
and  his  cars  unmercifully,  and  because  lie  swam  slowly 
with  their  weight  upon  him,  they  whacked  and  thumped 
him  like  little  pirate-;.  But  lie  had  his  revenge,  for  with 
one  turn  he  tumbled  them  all  otf,  and  sprang  from  the 
bath,  leaving  them  to  squirm  and  squabble  by  themselves. 

Laughing  heartily  at  their  antics,  he  rejoined  Knops 
and  Pa/,,  whom  he  found  poring  over  some  maps  spread 
out  before  them. 

"  \Ve   have  been  discussing  the  length  of  a  journey  to 
the  Geysers  of  Iceland,  also  to  the  hot  springs  of  tin-  Yel 
lowstone,  but  I  am  afraid  either  would  require  too  much 
time.      Was  your  bath  agreeable  f" 

"Very,"  said  Leo,  describing  how  he   had    been    pum 
nielied. 

"Those  were  the  fellows  from  the  steam-rooms — stok- 
ers probably.  Rough  enough  they  are.  Do  yon  care  to 
have  a  glance  at  them  at  work  '." 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do."  said  I in  his  old  drawling  man- 
ner; then,  correcting  himself ,  he  added :  "If  it  suits  \onr 
convenience,  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  lake  a  look. " 

"That  is  all  it  will  be.  1  promise  you,"  said  1'a/, :  "  the 
heat  is  awful." 

Leo  thought  as  much  when  Kiiops,  having  tied  a  respi 
rat  or  over  his  mom  h.  opened  another  door.     Such  a  cloud 
of  vapor  puffed  oui  that  he  could   but   dimly  discern  \\hat 
seemed  to  be  a  tank  of  boiling,  bubbling  water  resting  on 
abed  of  soft  coal,  about  which  stark  little  forms  were  dan 

cingand  poking  with  long  steel  bars  until  llanies  leaped 
out  like  tongues  of  lire. 

"Oil,"  said  Leo.  as  he  quickly  turned  from  this  place. 
"  how  do  they  endure  it  .'  It  is  dreadful  '." 

"They  are  used  to  it:  they  all  came  from  Terra  del 
Fueiro,"  replied  Knops.  calmly.  "And  now,  as  a  con- 
trast to  them,  look  in  here." 

A  hut  of  solid  ice  presented  itself.  Long  pendants  of 
ice  hung  from  the  ceiling,  snow  in  masses  was  being 
formed  into  shapes  of  statue-like  grace  by  a  company  of 
little  furry  objects  whose  noses  were  not  even  visible. 
and  others  were  tracing  out  on  a  broad  screen  of  lace-like 
texture  patterns  of  every  star  and  leaf  and  flower  ima- 
ginable. 

Leo  was  so  delighted  that,  although  shivering,  he  could 
not  bear  to  leave  them,  but  begged  Kiiops  to  lend  him  a 
wrap. 

Taking  from  a  pile  of  furs  in  a  corner  several  small 
garments,  Paz  pinned  them  together  and  threw  them  over 
Leo's  shoulders,  and  as  he  continued  to  watch  the  beauti- 
ful work  Knops  explained  its  character. 

"This  is  our  place  for  working  out  designs  for  those 
who  are  unskilled  in  frost-work.  Frost-work  is  some- 
thing too  delicate  for  human  hands,  but  in  it  we  excel. 
Have  you  never  seen  on  your  window-pane  of  a  cold 
winter  morning  the  picture  of  a  forest  of  pines,  or  sheets 
of  sparkling  stars  and  crystals;  I  am  sun-  you  have. 
Well,  we  do  all  that  work  011  your  windows,  not  with 
artilicial  snow  and  ice  such  as  you  see  here,  but  by  dex- 
terous management  we  catch  the  falling  flakes  and  mould 
them  to  our  will,  sometimes  doing  nothing  more  than 
spangling  a  sheet  of  glass,  and  again  working  out  the 
most  elaborate  and  fantastic  marvels  of  embroidery.  But 
in  art  our  productions  are  almost  endless.  We.  color  the 
tiniest  blades  of  grass  and  beds  of  strawberry  leaves  until 
the  moss  upon  which  they  rest  looks  like  velvet  with  floss 
needle-work.  We  polish  the  chestnuts  till  they  appear 
as  if  carved  of  rose-wood.  We  strip  thistles  of  their 
prickly  coat,  and  use  the  down  fur  pillows.  The  milk- 


weed, as  it  ripens  its  silken-winged  seeds,  serves  us  for 
many  beautiful  purposes.  We  tint  the  pebbles  of  a  brook 
till  they  compare  with  Florentine  mosaics.  We  wreathe 
and  festoon  every  bare  old  bowlder  and  every  niche  made 
barren  by  the  winds.  Indeed,  the  list  of  our  works  would 
fill  a  volume." 

Leo  listened  and  looked,  though  his  feet  were  getting 
numb  and  his  lingers  nearly  frozen.  Many  a  time  he  had 
>een  just  such  cappings  to  gate  posts  and  projections  as 
were  here  being  moulded,  and  just  such  rows  of  pearly 
drops  on  a  Cable's  edge;  but  when,  as  if  to  specially  please 
him,  the  busy  workers  carved  a  little  snow  maid  winding 
a  scarf  about  her  curly  locks,  he  clapped  his  hands  in 
admiration,  making  such  a  noise  that  each  little  Esquimau 
dropped  his  tool  in  alarm. 

"(ieiitly!  gently!"  said  Paz  and  Knops;  "they  are  eas- 
ily frightened.  Though  they  do  not  see  you.  their  instinct 
is  so  line  that  they  can  nearly  guess  your  presence." 

"  1  am  sorry  if  1  have  frightened  them,"  said  Leo. 
"Can't  yon  say  something  to  soothe  them?  Tell  them 
how  lovely  their  things  are.  I  long  to  try  and  imitate 
them." 

Kiiops  said  a  few  words  in  a  language  Leo  did  not  com- 
prehend, and  the  little  people  gathered  up  their  trowels 
again.  But  it  was  time  to  go,  and  Leo  had  to  follow  his 
guides  and  leave  the  snow  people  with  more  reluctance 
than  anything  he  had  yet  seen. 

[TO  in:  CONTINUED.] 


HOW  THE  BIRDS  LEARN  TO  SING. 

BY  ELIZABETH  ABEHCRO3II.UE. 

DO  you  know  why  the  birdies,  my  darling. 
Sing  so  swet-tly  the  whole  summer  long. 
Chirp  so  smoothly  their  trills  ;md  their  twitters, 
Make  so  rarely  ' '  false  notes"  in  a  song  ? 

'Tis  because  they  are  up  in  the  mornings 
And  out  by  the  first  peep  of  d;iy; 

They  meet  in  the  woods  and  they  practice, 
And  Love  is  their  leader,  they  say. 


630 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HOW  TO  SKIN,  STUFF,  AND  MOUNT  A  BIRD  IN 
FIVE  MINUTES. 

BY    DOCTOR    S  T  R  A  D  L  I N  G. 

THE  process  which  I  am  about  to  describe  briefly  is  a 
rough-aiid-reacly  one,  to  preserve  and  display  to  ad- 
vantage the  full  plumage  of  the  bird,  and  may  be  prac- 
ticed by  those  who  have  not  the  time  or  the  materials— 
or,  shall  we  suggest,  the  patience  ?— necessary  for  the  more 
artistic  operation. 

I  have  found  it  very  useful  in  tropical  countries  to  re- 
tain a  souvenir  of  brilliant-hued  pets  that  came  to  an  un- 
timely end,  in  a  climate  where  the  bodies  went  too  rapidly 
to  decay  to  permit  of  skinning  properly  with  a  view  to 
subsequent  setting  up.  Many  birds,  also,  which  are  con- 
sidered too  commonplace  for  regular  mounting  well  re- 
pay the  small  amount  of  trouble  necessary  to  display  them 
in  this  manner.  You  need  not  go  and  shoot  or  trap 
them  for  the  purpose.  Let  your  subject  be  some  pet  or 
other  bird  that  has  died  a  natural  death.  Again,  you  will 
find  that,  unfortunately,  the  dealers  in  live  birds  have  al- 
ways a  number  of  their  poor  little  bodies  to  sell  for  next 
to  nothing  or  to  throw  away. 

The  apparatus  required  is  simple  in  the  extreme.  A 
pair  of  lady's  sharp-pointed  scissors,  a  little  cotton-wool, 
which  may  be  just  flavored  with  a  drop  of  spirits  of  cam- 
phor, turpentine,  carbolic  acid,  or  a  light  sprinkling  of 
pepper  to  discourage  any  possible  insects,  and  a  few  ordi- 
nary pins;  nothing  more.  And  the  whole  operation  may 
be  performed,  with  a  little  practice,  on  a  small  bird,  in 
the  short  space  of  time  mentioned  in  the  heading  of  this 
article. 

Trace  the  tail  feathers  down  to  their  root,  under  the 
short  feathers  of  the  back.  You  will  find  that  the  tail 
works  on  a  hinge  or  joint,  and  can  be  detached  clean  and 
entire  by  a  snip  of  the  scissors  severing  this  joint.  A 
small  bit  of  bone  comes  away  with  it.  Lay  the.  tail  aside. 
Carefully  dividing  the  body  feathers,  cut  the  skin 
around,  commencing  in  front  of  the  legs  below,  but  slop- 
ing a  little  backward  above,  and  proceed  skinning  forward, 
turning  it  inside  out  as  you  go.  Very  little  cutting  is 
necessary.  The  skin  separates  readily,  only  requiring  a 
fibre  to  be  clipped  here  and  there.  When  you  arrive  at 
the  wings,  peel  the  skin  off  down  to  the  first  joint  (still 
turning  the  whole  inside  out),  and  there  nip  it  through 
with  the  scissors,  thus  leaving  the  first  bone  of  the  wing, 
covered  with  thick  flesh,  attached  to  the  body.  At  the 
neck  a  little  more  caution  and  delicacy  of  treatment  will 
be  called  for,  as  the  skin  is  thin  here,  and  may  be  torn  by 
rough  handling  or  dragging.  The  windpipe,  gullet,  and 
slender  bone  do  not  give  firm  ground  to  work  upon  either, 
hut  shift  about  and  require  to  be  "rubbed  loose"  from 
their  covering  with  the  finger  and  thumb. 

Peel  away  until  you  have  exposed  the  back  of  the  white 
glistening  skull  as  far  as  the  top  of  the  head,  or  the  broad- 
est part,  where  cut  it  through.  The  scissors  will  divide  it 
like  thin  card-board.  Scoop  out  the  brains,  break  through 
the  little  plates  of  bone  which  partition  otf  the  eye-balls, 
and  withdraw  them  from  the  inside,  and  cleanse  and  dry 
the  cavity  of  the  skull  with  a  small  piece  of  wool.  Re- 
move the  tongue  from  the  mouth  in  front,  and  cram  in 
some  cotton-wool  in  its  place,  but  not  enough  to  prevent 
the  beak  from  closing. 

Now  stuff  the  inside  of  the  head  and  the  neck  firmly, 
bringing  back  the  skin  to  its  proper  position  by  degrees  as 
you  fill  it,  and  fastening  it  with  the  pins.  Use  small 
pinches  of  wool,  and  take  care  that  the  neck  is  evenly 
but  not  unduly  distended.  The  pouches  at  the  winjj-s  will 
be  filled  in  the  same  way.  When  it  is  completely  full. 
lay  it  in  position  OH  a  board  and  run  a  pin  through  at 
the  back  of  the  neck,  which  will  cause  the  head  to  stand 
up  and  display  the  breast  in  a  very  elegant  manner.  The 
wings  must  now  be  distended,  the  two  or  four  pins  re- 


quired for  that  purpose  not  piercing  them,  but  so  inserted 
into  the  board  as  to  prevent  their  shutting  up  again.  The 
feathers  are  plumed  out  and  straightened,  another  pin  or 
two  put  in,  if  need  be,  at  any  part  which  seems  imperfect- 
ly fixed,  and  the  job  is  done. 

It  will  be  dry  in  a  few  days.  I  have  found  it  the  least 
trouble  and  safest  to  pin  the  birds  against  a  wall  or  inside 
a  cupboard  door,  twisting  a  cone  of  paper  over  each  to  keep 
off  the  dust.  When  it  is  dry  and  set,  the  pins  an-  with- 
drawn, and  the  edge  of  the  skin  is  fastened  with  a  little 
ifnm  to  whatever  the.  bird  is  destined  to  adorn,  the  tail 
being  placed  in  position  behind,  with  its  bony  knob  con- 
cealed under  the  feathers  of  the  body.  Thus  it  gives  by 
no  means  a  bad  idea  of  a  bird  in  full  flight. 

The  different  ways  in  which  the  birds  may  he  disposed  of 
arc  of  course  innumerable.  I  have  seen  one  sewn  on  as  a 
crowning  decoration  to  a  highly  ornamental  pen-wiper, 
anot  her  placed  in  a  lady's  hat,  others  very  prettily  arranged 
in  the  centre  of  plates  to  hang  against  the  wall,  with 
scenery  painted  around  them,  so  that  they  appeared  to  be 
flying  amidst  palm-trees  or  over  rivers.  A  young  friend 
of  mine,  being  of  a  mechanical  turn,  has  fixed  one  to  the 
middle  of  a  wooden  disk,  which  he  has  got  his  sister  to 
paint  for  him.  A  strong  wire  is  inserted  securely  into  the 
wood,  passing  through  the  body  and  coming  out  at  the 
beak.  When  he  has  set  up  another  in  like  manner  he  is 
going  to  present  them  to  his  uncle,  to  hang  one  on  each 
side  of  the  chimney-piece,  supporting  a  pair  of  light  wire 
letter  racks. 

If  you  think  of  making  a  similar  contrivance  I  should 
advise  you  to  pass  the  wire  through  as  soon  as  the  bird  is 
skinned,  and  stuff  around  it,  as  the  compressed  wool  is 
very  hard  to  pierce.  It  would  look  better,  too,  to  mask 
the  wire  issuing  from  the  beak  with  a  berry  or  twig,  anil 
it  might  be  arranged  so  as  to  carry  a  paper-balance,  taper- 
stand,  pen-rest,  or  even  a  candle. 


THE  WIND'S  REBUKE. 

BY  MARGARET  EYTINGE. 

"  T  SHALL  go  this  morning,"  the  y<mn;r  Prince  said, 

A  With  a  haughty  toss  of  his  regal  head — 
"I  shall  go  this  morning  across  tin-  sea 
To  yonder  island  that  seems  to  he 
(I  have  watched  it  long  from  my  palace  tower) 
All  the  year  maud  like  an  evergreen  bower. 

"Ere  the  hells  cease  ringing  the  hour  of  ten 

My  ship  must  he  ready;  so  hasten,  my  men." 

Then  low  bowed  the  courtiers,  and  meek  answer  made, 

"Your  Highness  hut  speaks  to  be  quickly  obeyed." 

"See  to  it  I  am.     And  if  any  be  late. 

On  shore  lie  will  tarry.      We  Princes  ;»'</•  irnit." 

"Ah!  there  you're  mistaken,"  the  rude  Wind  cried, 

And  the  trees  began  trembling  on  every  side. 

"I  have  just  this  moment  come  in  from  sea 

To  wander  awhile  over  mountain  and  lea. 

And  until  I  return,  great  Prince  though  you  lie. 

Your  ship  and  your  Highness  must  wait  lor  me." 


THE  CARRIER-PIGEON. 

BY  JULIA  K.  HILDRETH. 

VIDA!  VIDA!"  shouted  Roger  Lynn,  thrusting  his 
head  out  of  the  window  in  the  second  story  of  the 
barn,  and  calling  to  his  sister,  who  was  sitting  011  the 
porch,  "I  am  going  to  take  two  pigeons  over  to  Tom's. 
Run,  put  on  your  hat  and  things;  mamma  says  you  may 
go  with  me." 

"Good!"  cried  little  Yida,  clapping  her  hands,  and  disap- 
pearing instantly  through  the  hall  door.  Before  Ronvr 
had  caught  the  birds  and  climbed  down  the  ladder  she 
was  waiting,  ready  and  dressed  for  her  walk,  at  the  garden 
gate. 

"Last  time  Tom  was  here,"  said  Roger,  as  he  came 
slowly  down  the  path,  carefully  carrying  a  small  covered 
basket  in  his  hand,  "I  promised  him  two  pigeons  as 


7,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


631 


soon  as  he  had  built  a  house  for  them.  So  I  am  going  to 
give  him  Goldneck  and  Cushat." 

"  He  will  have  to  cut  their  wings."  said  Vida.  pitying- 
ly, "or  else  they  will  lly  right  hmui-  aj  tin." 

"Tom  knows  that,  and  it  don't  hurt  them  either."  an- 
swered Roger,  as  he  closed  the  garden  gate  after  him. 

The  road  the  children  took  led  down  by  ail  inlet  of  th.1 
bay.  where  two  or  three  bouts  lay  fastened  by  long  ropes 
to  po-ts  driven  in  the  ground.  They  were  swashing  back- 
ward and  forwurd  noisily,  for  the  water  wa-  rough  and 
the  wind  lirjli. 

"What's  that  in  pa,>a'<  l,ciat  ;"  exclaimed  Vida.  point- 
ing to  one  that  had  a  great  bag  lying  in  the  .-tern. 

"Well,  I  declare,  if  it's  not  the  bag  of  corn  father  sent 
Jerry  for  this  morning!"  answered  linger,  as  he  stopped 
to  peep  in.  "Jerry  mii-t  have  gone  home  for  his  dinner 
and  forijo'tc  n  all  about  it.  I'll  just  lift  it  out  and  put  it. 
in  a  dry  place,  for  see  how  the  water  is  spattering  all  over 
the  side  of  the  boat.  Hold  the  basket.  Vida.  pleu-e.  and 
don't  let  the  cover  slip  off." 

"You  will  never  be  abb-  to  lift  that  great  bag.  ROLJ<T: 
it's  'most  as  big  as  yoiir-elf."  said  Vida.  a-  she  took  the 
basket  from  him. 

And  she  was  right,  as  llng'-r  -mm  found;  I',  .r  alt  hough 
hi-  tugged  manfully  at  the  heavy  bag  of  corn,  he  could 
only  move-  it  a  few  inches.  Presently.  however,  he  man- 
aged to  do  something  that  lie  had  not  intended.  As  he 
was  hauling  lirst  one  way  and  then  the  other,  the  cord 
that  fastened  the  mouth  of  the  bag  came  undone,  and  all 
the  bright  \ellow  kernels  poured  out  into  a  great  heap  at 
the  bottom  of  t  he  boat. 

"(  >h  dear!"  said  Roger.  "  now  you  mu-t  come  and  help 
me.  Vida.  or  we  will  be  too  late  for  our  walk." 

"Yes.  linger.  I'll  come,  but  what  shall  I  do  with  the 
pigeons  '."  answered  Vida.  looking  anxiously  at  the  basket. 

"(iive  them  to  me  and  I'll  put  them  under  the  seat, 
Xow  take  hold  of  my  hand  and  jump  in.  I  wish  I  had 
never  touched  the  bag!"  grumbled  Roger,  as  they  both 
stooped  down  and  bi  gan  throwing  back  the  corn.  The 
four  hands  worked  as  hard  and  as  fast  as  t  hey  could  :  but 
it  took  a  long  time  to  gather  up  the  kernel-,  and.  besides. 
after  a  while  the  boat  began  rocking  so  hard  that  it  shook 
the  corn  all  over. 

"  There!"  said  Roger,  with  :;  sigh  of  relief,  as  he  put  in 
the  last  handful  and  lied  up  the  hae;  again,  "  that's  done. 
Xow  come.  Vida."  lie  turne-.l  to  pick  up  the  basket  ami 
climb  out  of  the  boat,  when  he  was  startled  to  see  thai 
there  was  a  great  stretch  of  little  white  capped  waves  be- 
tween him  and  the  land.  While  the-  children  had  been 
busily  engaged,  with  their  backs  to  the  bow,  the  boat  had 
become  unfastened  and  drifted  slowly  away,  and  was  now 
many  yards  from  the  shore. 

"  Well,  if  that's  not  too  bad  !"  cried  Hover,  a.-  he  looked 
wistfully  at  the  receding  land. 

"Can.  not  we  push  it  back  somehow;"  inquired  Vida. 
as  she  climbed  over  the  seat  and  stood  by  Roger's  side. 

"I  don't  know  of  any  way."  answered  Roger,  looking 
anxiously  around.  "The  oars  are  not  here." 

As  the  boat  drifted  farther  and  farther  from  the  shore, 
the  wind  increased,  and  the  frail  vessel  rocked  so  violent- 
ly that  the  two  children  crouched  down  in  the  bottom 
and  held  fast  to  the  seat.  Every  now  and  then  Vida  or 
Roger  would  peep  over  the  side  to  see  which  way  they 
were  going. 

Almost  at  the  mouth  of  the  inlet  was  a  long  narrow 
strip  of  land  covered  with  weeds  and  rushes.  It  was  call- 
ed Heron  Island,  from  the  number  of  great  blue  herons  that 
frequented  it.  tiptoeing  over  the  mud  near  the  water,  or 
rising,  when  disturbed,  with  a  whirr  and  shriek,  from  the 
tangled  weeds  and  shrubs  in  the  centre.  This  islet  was 
so  surrounded  by  soft  black  mud  that  it  was  nearly  im- 
possible to  land  at  any  point.  So  the  herons  had  almost 
undisputed  possession  of  the  place.  It  was  to  this  strip 


of  land  that  the  boat  was  now-  drifting,  and  as  they  drew 
nearer,  the  children  watched  with  curiosity  the  great  birds 
spread  their  wide  wings  ;md  sail  away  to  the  opposite 
shore.  The  boat  moved  slowly  past  tall  clumps  of  coarse 
grass  and  rushes,  then  suddenly  stopped  in  the  thickest 
and  blackest  of  the  mud  and  stood  perfectly  still. 

"Now."  said  Roger,  in  a  troubled  voice,  "there's  no 
know-ing  how  long  we  shall  have  to  stay  here.  That  tall 
grass  hides  us  completely  from  the  shore 

The  children  sat  and  watched  the  reeds  over  their  heads 
bend  and  sway  in  the  wind  for  some  moments  in  si'euce. 
I  Presently  the  pigeons  in  the  basket  began  to  coo  loudly 
and  rustle  about,  as  though  tired  of  their  willow  prison. 

"P  .....  •  little'  things."  said  Vida,  "why  don't  you  let 
them  fly;  The\  can  find  their  way  home,  and  it's  too 
late  to  go  to  Tom's  now." 

"  I  will."  answered  Roger.  "  if  some  one  don't  come  for 
us  s  .....  i.  How  I  wish  1  had  a  long  stick  !" 

"  What  would  you  do  with  it  ;"  asked  Yida. 

"  <  )li,  I'd  tie  a  handkerchief  to  the  end  and  wave  it  back- 
ward and  forward  until  somebody  noticed  it." 

Vida  looked  up  at  the  cloudy  sk\  and  then  down  at  the 
black  mud.  After  a  while  she  said.  "  It's  dreadfully  ugly 

here;    I  wish  I  could   get   out." 

"But  \  on  can't.  Yida.  That  mud  is  so  soft  and  dee])  it 
would  swallow  you  up  in  no  time.  Don't  you  remember 
la-t  spring  how  Will  Hanks  tried  to  wade  ashore,  and  sunk 
down.  down,  down  until  there  was  nothing  but  his  head 
abo\e  the  mud.  and  if  some  men  lishing  had  not  heard 
him  scream  he  would  have  gone  altogether  underneath 
and  never  been  seen  j-ain  .'" 

'Yes,  I   remember,'1  answered  Yida.  "but  that  was  a 

\  ear  a  -0.  and  the  mud  may  have  grown  hard  by  this  time." 
Yida  was  silent  after  this  for  a  few  minutes,  but  presently 
her  e\  e  fell  upon  a  long  slim  pole,  and  she  cried,  "  linger,  I 
see  a  splendid  long  stick  over  there,  only  a  little  way  oil'." 

"  Well.  I  wish  it  was  here."  answered  Roger,  as  he 
picked  up  the  basket,  and  peeped  ill  at  the  pigeons. 

"  Are  \mi  going  to  let  them  lly  ;"  asked  Vida. 

Yes.  1  think  so."  replied  Roger-.      "They  seem  so  mis- 
erable. and  we  may  lia\  e  to  slay  here  all  night." 

"  (  Hi  dear!  I  shall  be  dreadfully  frightened  when  it 
grows  dark."  said  Yida.  mournfully.  "What  a  pity 
pin-eons  can't  talk!  If  they  could.  I  would  ask  Goldneck 
to  carry  a  message  to  papa  or  Jerry." 

"That  puts  me  in  mind  of  something,"  cried  Roger, 
looking  up  quickly.  "Suppose  we  turn  them  into  carrier- 
pigeons  ;" 

"  Why.  how  could  we  do  that  ;"  inquired  Yida,  wonder- 
in  gly. 

"Just  write  a  note  and  tie  it  to  one  of  their  necks. 
Then  let  them  fly.  Some  one  will  be  sure  to  see  it,  for 
you  know  the  pigeons  always  stand  by  the  kitchen  door 
to  be  fed  before  sunset." 

"Oh,  what  fun!"  cried  Yida.  laughing  merrily. 

Roger  thrust  his  hand  first  in  one  pocket  and  then  in 
the  other;  presently  his  face  grew  very  grave,  and  he 
said,  "No  use;  I've  lost  my  pencil." 

"That  don't  matter."  said  Yida.  "Write  it  with  a  pin 
—  little  dots,  you  know.  There's  a  piece  of  paper  in  the 
basket." 

"  Just  the  thing  !"  cried  Roger,  as  he  tore  off  a  long  strip 
of  paper.  Then  he  formed  each  letter  by  pricking  its 
shape  in  the  paper  with  a  pin.  When  it  was  finished  the 
message  read  thus  : 


'     i  {..•• 


632 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Vida  held  one  of  the  pigeons  gently  while  Roger  fast- 
ened the  note  about  its  neck  by  a  ribbon  from  his  hut. 

"  Now  let  him  fly,"  suid  Roger,  as  soon  as  this  was  ac- 
complished. 

Vida  opened  her  hands.  The  bird  plumed  its  wing, 
and  plucked  uneasily  at  the  ribbon  around  its  neck:  then 
it  Hew  high  into  the  air,  circled  around  two  or  three  times, 
and  came  back.  Finally  it  perched  upon  the  farther  end 
of  the  boat,  turning  its  glossy  neck  from  side  to  side. 

"Now  what  is  the  matter."  exclaimed  Roger,  wonder- 

Lnffly. 

"I   suppose  he   is    waiting   for    Cushat,"  said   Vida. 

"  Shall  I  let  her  go  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  I  forgot.     Open  the  basket  quick,    replied 


But  when  the  other  pigeon  was  free  they  both  kept  fly- 
ing around  and  above  in  the  most  tantalizing  manner,  al- 
ways coming  back  to  stand  just  out  of  reach,  as  though 
they  did  not  quite  like  to  go  home  alone. 

"I  wish  I  had  that  long  pole  now,"  said  Roger,  as  he 
sat,  with  his  back  turned  to  Vida,  watching  the  pigeons; 
"  I  would  soon  make  them  fly  home." 

Vida  heard  what  he  said.  She  sat  still  for  a  moment, 
looking  thoughtfully  at  the  smooth  long  rod  half  hidden 
in  the  rushes  about  twenty  feet  away. 

"Roger  does  not  know 
how  light  I  am,"  said  she  to 
herself,  "or  he  would  never 
think  the  mud  could  swallow 


Vida  hesitated  only  one  moment,  then  walked  boldly 
out.  At  the  first  movement  her  foot  sank  into  the  mud 
,i|,  to  the  ankle,  at  the  next  she  went  down,  down,  down, 
just  as  Will  Banks  had  done.  She  gave  one  loud  scream 

,<(  horror. 

••  Vida!  Vida!  where  are  you?  cried  Roger,  111  alarm, 
as  he  turned  quickly  around.  In  a  moment  he  saw  what 
had  happened,  and  with  a  shout  of  encouragement  sprang 
from  the"  boat.  Leaping  lightly  from  clump  to  clump,  he 
reached  the  bare  spot,  and  grasping  the  nearest  rushes  in 
one  hand,  swung  himself  into  the  black  slimy  mud  to  his 
sister's  side.  Fortunately  his  foot  struck  against  a  long 
slender  root,  which  offered  him  a  slight  support,  With 
his  disengaged  hand  he  seized  Villa's  cloak,  and  drew  her 

toward  him.  Then  he 
endeavored  to  raise  her 
in  his  arms,  but  at  each 
movement  the  root  un- 
der him  bent  more  arid 


nn\  1  know  I  can  run  over  there  and  back  again  before 
he  turns  around,  and  I  mean  to  try." 

Then,  without  another  thought,  Vida  slipped  over  tin- 
side  of  the  boat,  and  cautiously  placed  her  two  small  feet 
iijion  a  hummock  of  earth,  out  of  which  grew  a  great 
bunch  of  long  green  rushes.  It  was  quite  firm,  so  sin- 
nodded  her  head  triumphantly,  and  took  a  step  forward. 

"I  knew  it,"  said  Vida,  as  she  hopped  to  the  next 
bunch  of  roots.  She  progressed  very  safely  as  long  as 
she  had  tin-  reeds  and  rushes  to  support  her.  But  pre- 
sently Vida  came  to  a  bare  place  that  must  be  crossed  be- 
fore she  could  reach  the  rod.  She  looked  back  at  the 
boat.  Roger  was  still  engaged  with  the  pigeons,  and 
had  not  missed  her. 


Poor  little  Vida  had  sunk  almost 
to  her  shoulders,  and  was  so  weak 
with  fright  that  she  was  incapable 

of  doing  more  than  clasp  her  small  hands  over  Roger's  arm . 
and  look  imploringly  into  his  face.  And  Roger,  realizing 
their  danger,  closed  his  eyes  and  silently  prayed  for  help. 
Minnies,  which  seemed  like  hours  to  the  children,  pass- 
ed by.  The  gray  clouds  turned  to  pink,  and  far  off  in 
the  west  the  '.rreat  golden  sun  sank  nearer  and  nearer  to 
the  water,  but  still  no  sound  of  voice  or  splashing  oar 
broke  the  silence  to  give  them  hope. 

At  last  Vida  raised  her  head  and  said,  with  a  sob,  while 
the  tears  rolled  down  her  pale  cheeks: 

••]>on't  stay  here,  Roger.  I  know  you  could  climb 
baek  by  yourself  if  you  only  would." 

"Do  you  think  I  would  be  mean  enough  to  leave  you 
all  alone,  little  Vida  .'"  answered  Roger,  stoutly;  for  al- 
though the  hand  that  grasped  the  rushes  was  torn  and 
bleeding,  and  the  slender  root  under  his  feet  was  bent  al- 
most to  breaking,  the  thought  oi'  saving  himself  without 
his  sister  never  entered  his  mind. 

"I  have  been  dreadfully  naughty."  said  Vida,  after  a 
pause.  "Poor  papa  and  mamma  will  have  110  children 


Al'iil'ST  7,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


now."  She  gave  an- 
other little  sob.  lean- 
ed her  cheek  against 
I ;<  i- IT'S  arm,  and  cried 
silently. 

"  Don't  cry.  dear." 
said  I  Joger.  coaxingly. 
"  Perhaps  some  one 
may  find  the  note  we 
sent  by  Goldneck  and 
come  for  us  soon.'' 

"  It's  too  late."  said 
Vida  ;  "  the  pigeons 
went  to  lied  long  airo." 

"  Hush  !"  cried  K'^ 
ei1.  earnest  ]\  ;  "  I  hear 

a  sound." 

"That  was  only  the 

big     herons     coming 

bark."  answered  Vida. 

hopelessly. 

"  Listen.  Villa!  list 
en  !  I  hear  it  again. 
It  is  our  papa's  voice. 

Papa  !   oh.  papa  !    r e 

<pnrk  :"sholl1eil  l.'oger. 

"  Here  \ve  are.  aw  ay 
behind  the  rnshcs." 

"  ( 'oming."  an^u  er 
ed  their  father;  anil  in 
a  moment  more  the 
rushes  were  parted  and 

a  boat  appeared,  push- 
ed laboriously  through 

the  mud  by  Mr.  L\  mi 
and  .Jerry.  They  both 
uttered  exclamations 
of  astonishment  and 
horror  \\  hen  they  saw 
the  plight  the  children 
were  in.  and,  quicken- 
in  «•  their  efforts,  they 
readied  them  not  one 
moment  too  soon.  For 
as  Mr.  Lynn  bent  for- 
ward to  sei/e  Vida, 
the  root  under  Rog- 
er's foot  snapped,  and 
he  would  have  been 
enuulfed  in  the  mud 
but  for  Jerry's  .strong 
hand. 

The  pigeon  had  in- 
deed proved  a  good 
messenger,  and  car- 
ried Roger's  note  safe- 
ly home.  It  was  dis- 
covered just  in  time  to 
save  the  children  from 
a  dreadful  death. 

Goldneck  was  re- 
turned to  the  dove- 
cote and  another  bird 
substituted  in  its  place 
as  a  present  for  Tom. 
Because,  Roger  de- 
clared, he  would  not 
part,  with  that  one 
for  a  fortune;  and,  be- 
sides, he  says  that  he 
intends  to  turn  it  into 
a  carrier-pigeon  in  ear- 
nest some  dav. 


634 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


BY  SYDNEY  DAYRE. 
""\7"ES,  they're  sending  the  poor  things  from  the  city 

JL  all  over  the  country  for  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air  and 
a  bite  of  something  wholesome  to  eat.  We  ought  to  do 
our  share,  Aunt  Nancy." 

"  Maybe  so,  Ruth,  but  it's  resky,  to  my  mind." 

"Eisk  of  what.  Aunt  Nancy?  A  couple  of  children 
can't  do  much  mischief  oil  an  old  farm  in  two  weeks,  if 
they  do  any." 

•'They'll  do  enough,  you  may  be  sure;  but  that  ain't 
all.  ThVy  do  say  there's  no  tellhf  what  you  may  catch 
from  that  sort,  and  that  these  people  that  goes  among  'em 
just  takes  their  lives  in  their  hands.  They  lives  in  dread- 
ful holes— all  dirt  and  disease." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Pritchard.  rather  indignantly.  "I 
think  they  must  be  about  the  same  kind  of  poor  the  Lord 
went  about  among,  only  not  so  bad,  perhaps,  as  those  He 
used  to  see.  Seems  to  me  He  never  told  His  disciples  to 
keep  away  for  fear  of  catching  things." 

"And  then  how  do  you  know  what  evil  they  may  teach 
them  two  boys  of  yourn  ?" 

Mrs.  Pritchard  looked  sober.  ' '  Well,  I  had  thought  of 
that,  Aunt  Nancy,  but  I  don't  believe  any  children  we 
were  befriending  would  do  them  harm,  and  in  such  a  lit- 
tle time  as  two  weeks." 

"Well,  well,  Ruth,  you're  mistress  here,  so  it  ain't  for 
me  to  dictate;  but  it's  resky— that's  all  I  have  to  say." 

Two  boys  came,  perhaps  twelve  years  old  as  to  form, 
but  older  "as  to  face,  with  gaunt  limbs,  and  eyes  astare 
with  the  wonders  of  the  journey  and  of  the  strange  things 
all  around  them.  In  the  eyes  of  one  familiar  with  their 
class  they  would  be  recognized  as  having  graduated  in  all 
that  goes  to  make  up  the  poor  little  street  Arab.  News- 
boy, boot-black,  wharf-rat,  or  vagrant,  they  were  fair  spe- 
cimens of  the  outgrowth  of  the  great  city's  slums.  Mrs. 
Pritchard's  heart  warmed  toward  the  neglected  boys  with 
an  earnest  desire  that  a  stay  under  her  roof  might  be  fruit- 
ful of  lasting  good  to  them. 

Their  ignorance  of  everything  belonging  to  country 
life  was  wonderful.  Jack  and  Harry  Pritchard  followed 
their  guests  about,  doing  the  honors  of  the  place,  now  list- 
ening with  awe  to  Pat's  talk  about  the  shipping  in  New 
York  Harbor,  as  he  skipped  like  a  monkey  to  the  top  of 
the  tallest  elm-tree  to  show  how  the  sailors  went  up  the 
masts,  now  shouting  with  laughter  at  their  questions  and 
remarks  concerning  things  on  the  farm. 

"Do  look  at  him!"  said  Aunt  Nancy,  pointing  out  of 
the  window  as  Pat  dropped  from  the  elm.  "One  would 
think  he  was  brought  up  in  a  circus.  This  morniii'  I 
heard  a  noise  on  the  roof  above  my  room,  and  the  first 
thing  I  see  that  boy  went  a-past  my  winr'ow  hand  over 
hand  till  he  come  to  the  water-pipe,  and  then  a'most  with- 
out touehiii'  it  he  slid  down  like  a  cat.  He'll  be  teachin' 
our  boys  all  sorts  of  tricks.  Look  there — now !" 

Harry  and  Jack  were  being  hoisted  upon  a  shed  over 
looking  the  poultry -yard  and  stable.  On  the  edge  of 
this,  with  four  pairs  of  legs  dangling  in  what  to  the  la- 
dies appeared  a  most  uncomfortable  position,  such  an  ani- 
mated conversation  went  on  that  Aunt  Nancy  stole  near 
enough  to  hear,  feeling  sure  some  mischief  was  brewing. 

"Now,  thin,"  says  Pat,  "it's  meself  can't  kape  in  moind 
the  names  at  all  at  all.  It's  the  ilegant  little,  white  beau- 
ty 'd  be  the  calf  2" 

"Pshaw,  Pat!"  said  Jim,  with  a  wise  air.  "That's  a 
pig." 

"Niver!"  said  Pat.  "It's  the  purty  darlin'  wid  (he 
wool,  I'm  manin'." 

"Oh !"  said  Jim.      "Yes,  that's  a  calf." 

"No,"  said  Harry,  laughing  till  he  nearly  lost  his  bal- 
ance, "  that's  a  calf  over  there — the  calf's  colored — see  2" 


"  Dark  it  is.  Thin  it's  another  calf  '11  be  over  in  the 
corner  there  :" 

"No,  that's  a  black  sheep  — the  pretty  one's  a  white 

sheep." 

"Arrah,  thin,"  Pat  shook  his  head  comically,  "it's  a 
brave  little  head  ye'll  be  havin'  to  kape  "em  all  shthraight. 
But  see—"  he  settled  himself  so  as  to  get  an  outlook  in 
another  direction,  "  d'ye  moind  the  purty  little  hiiis  down 
there,  now!" 

"Oh,  Pat,  those  are  ducklings  ;  see  'em  swim  in  the 
little  pond."  Pat  jumped  down  and  ran  toward  them, 
forgetting  the  small  boys,  one  of  whom  jumped  after  him 
and  had  a  very  solid  fall,  while  the  other  scrambled  down 
the  rough  end  of  the  shed,  reaching  the  ground  with  torn 
clothes.  Aunt  Nancy  went  into  the  house  with  a  grave 
protest  against  such  "goin's  on."  but  mamma,  who  had 
observed  that  in  order  to  appear  manly  before  the  others 
neither  of  her  boys  cried,  as  was  their  usual  habit  in  small 
misfortunes,  wisely  made  up  her  mind  that  a  little  rough- 
ing with  strangers  would  not  hurt  them. 

"Ducks,  is  it?"  went  on  Pat,  "an'  shwimmin'  like  any 
boat!  Here's  more  of 'em — shoo,  now  !  Go 'long  in  the 
wather  wid  ycz!" 

"  Oh,  stop !"  cried  Harry.  "Those  are  chickens.  They 
can't  swim." 

' '  Asy,  thin  !"  Pat  rescued  from  drowning  a  chick  he  had 
driven  in,  and  then  began  checking  off  on  his  fingers. 

"Ducks,  hins,  chuckens — an'  would  that  be  a  hin,  too, 
the  jewel  ?"  pointing  admiringly  to  a  pigeon  whose  soft 
plumage  of  white  and  purple  caught  his  eye  as  it  came 
tamely  among  the  boys. 

"No,  that's  one  of  my  pigeons."  said  Harry,  catching 
and  caressing  the  gentle  little  creature. 

"  Pigeon.      An'  the  fat  ladies  by  the  fince  ?" 
"  Geese." 

"Geese  it  is.  The  top  of  the  mornin'  to  yez,  ladies," 
said  Pat,  making  a  low  bow  as  the  geese  waddled  toward 
the  pond.  "It's  a  plinty  of  your  kin  I've  seen  in  the 
markets,  but  they'd  taken  off  their  foine  clothes  and  was 
hangin'  heads  down,  so  I  didn't  quite  recognoize  yez  at 
first.  Ducks,  hins,  pigeons — lie  the  liowly  poker! — will 
ye  moind  the  burred  wid  the  big  thraiii  to  'er  gown !" 

Both  strangers  stared  in  open-mouthed  wonder  at  the 
beautiful  thing  which  suddenly  flew  down  near  them. 
And  then  Jim  gave  a  shout  of  delight,  but  Pat  fairly  held 
his  breath  as  it  spread  out  before  them  its  glory  of  blue 
and  gold  many-eyed  plumage. 

"  Och !  an'  it's  a  bit  of  the  counthry  shky  she's  been  get- 
tin'  to  dhress  herself  in  !" 

"  Didn't  you  ever  see  a  peacock  before  ?" 
"  A  paycock,  is  it  ?"  Pat  solemnly  counted  off  anoth- 
er finger.  "A  paycock !"  He  climbed  upon  the  granary, 
and  seating  himself  upon  the  ridge-pole,  remained  in  el<>-i- 
watch  of  the  proud  bird,  as  she  turned  this  way  and  that, 
as  if  aware  of  his  admiration,  until  dinner-time. 

The  bright  days  passed  without  giving  Mrs.  Pritchard 
reason  to  regret  that  her  hand  had  been  one  among  the, 
many  holding  out  a  gift  of  sweet  country  sights  and 
sounds  to  those  into  whose  lives  so  little  of  sweetness  en- 
ters. Harry  had  a  sprained  wrist  as  the  result  of  a  fall 
from  some  height  to  which  he  had  followed  Put,  and  nei- 
ther boy  had  a  whole  garment  left.  Miss  Nancy  shook 
her  head  disapprovingly,  but  Mrs.  Pritchard  observed  with 
pleasure  the  instinct  of  manliness  and  of  kindly  considera- 
tion for  guests  developing  in  her  boys,  and  smiled  as  she 
mended  for  the  four.  Jim  went  among  the  animals  with 
a  voice  and  touch  which  the  dumb  creatures  always  recog- 
nized as  belonging  to  a  lover  of  their  kind,  and  before 
many  days  they  came  and  went  at  his  slightest  call. 
Quiet  hints  and  suggestions  from  the  mistress  of  the  place 
had  been  generally  faithfully  attended  to,  and  nothing  in 
the  way  of  willful  mischief  had  been  done.  No  bird's 
nest  had  been  robbed,  nor  tree  nor  flower  injured. 


AUGUST  7,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


635- 


•'I  don't  quite  like  the  look  of  the  weather,"  said  Mrs. 
Pritohard  one  night,  just  after  the  noisy  quartette  had 
tn.oped  off  to  bed. 

"It's  coniin'  up  a  reg'lar  old-fashioned  thunder-storm, 
to  my  mind."  said  Aunt  Nancy.  "  I'm  glad  them  hoys  is 
in.  and  not  down  to  the  fur  end  of  tin-  pastur'  lot,  or  atop 
of  the  barn,  or  some  other  such  place." 

Mrs.  Pritchard  watched  the  gathering  of  the  clouds  long 
after  the  sleep  which  comes  to  blessed  boyhood  had  gath- 
ered the  four  into  its  soft  embrace.  As  the-  dead  lull  which 
often  comes  before  a  storm  gave  place  lo  pull's  of  wind, 
and  the  lightning  grew  more  vivid,  and  the  noise  of  the 
thunder  rose  in  an  almost  continuous  roar,  she  went  from 
1-00,11  to  room  closing  windows  and  blinds.  This  linish- 
cil.  she  went  into  the  hack  yard  to  unloose  a  dog  which 
whined  and  fretted  against  his  chain. 

"  Poor  Watch!  Lonely  out  here  in  the  storm  :' 
He  gratefully  licked  her  hand,  .just  as  a  blinding  Hash 
seemed  to  wrap  her  in  its  fearful  whiteness.  Whether 
it  was  this  or  the  deafening  report  in  the  same  moment 
which  struck  her  to  the  earth  she  never  could  tell,  but 
for  a  few  seconds  she  lay  stunned  and  bewildered,  then 
staggered  to  her  feet  with  a  cry  of  disma\  . 

The  porch  lay  a  splintered  ruin  at  her  feet.  Had  the 
dark  winged  angel  been  borne  under  her  roof  in  the  grasp 
of  the  lightning  !  Her  own  two  were  on  the  same  lloor  with 
her.  Ascertaining  that  both  were  whimpering  with  fright. 
she  called  to  Aunt  Nancy,  .Tim,  Pat,  and  the'  maid,  and 
hearing  an  answer  from  each  one.  thankfully  sat  down  to 
ipiiet  I  he  boys. 

But  a  sound  in  the  next  room  alarmed  her.  and  spring- 
ing up,  she  opened  a  door.  A  red  angry  demon  glared  at 
her— one  who  had  come  to  dispute  with  her  the  posses- 
sion of  this  her  old  home,  \\lio  would  wring  it  from  her. 
and  lay  it  in  a  heap  of  ruins  before  her  eyes. 

Shrieking  "Fire!  fire!"  she  rushed  upstairs  to  lind  that 
all  were  astir;  then  down  again,  hurrying  her  boys  to  a 
place  of  safely,  and  striving  with  trembling  hands  to  si- 
cure  some  valuable  papers  and  old  silver.  The  maid 
came  and  helped  her.  and  soon  the  farm  bands,  who  lived 
at  a  little  distance,  and  other  neighbors,  gathered.  But 
the  old  house  was  doomed.  The  tlames  spread  rapidly 
over  and  through  the  hack  part  of  it,  shedding  a  brilliant 
light  011  the  surrounding  gloom,  before  only  broken  by 
the  lightning  flashes. 

"Are  we  all  safe?"  cried  Mrs.  Pritehard.  She  could 
see  Jim  among  the  men  unloosing  the  animals  and  lead- 
ing them  to  places  of  safety.  She  was  sure  she  had 
beard  a  shout  from  Pat ;  Susan,  the  maid,  was  wringing 
her  hands  and  making  exclamations  of  woe  close  beside 
her. 

"But  where's  Aunt  Nancy,  Susan  ?" 
"She's  about  here  somewheres,  ma'am  ;  she  was  a-comin' 
right  down  after  me." 

But  Miss  Nancy  was  not  about  anywhere,  and  Mrs. 
Pritchard's  rapidly  growing  fear  was  brought  suddenly  to 
dreadful  certainty  by  the  sight  of  the  poor  old  lady  at 
the  window  of  her  room,  looking  dazed  and  helpless  with 
fright.  A  cry  of  horror  went  up  as  men  ran  for  ladders, 
for  the  stairs  were  a  sheet  of  flame. 

But  the  ladders  were  always  hung  under  the  roof  of  the 
long  back  porch,  and  were  now  burning  with  it.  And  as 
swift-flying  feet  went  for  others,  many  a  fear  was  felt  that 
their  help  might  come  too  late. 

Through  Mrs.  Pritchard's  terror  had  just  broken  the 
thought,  "I  haven't  seen  Pat  yet — where  can  the  boy 
be  ?"  when  a  light  figure  flew  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  and  shot  up  the  old  elm -tree  with  almost  the 
quickness  of  the  nickering  shadows  cast  by  the  flames. 
Next  he  was  seen  at  the  end  of  a  rope,  swinging  back  and 
forth  between  the  tree  and  the  window.  And  those  who 
looked  on  scarcely  drew  breath  as  he  presently  sprang  to 
the  window-sill  and  disappeared  within  the  room.  Miss 


Nancy  had  sunk  upon  the  bed.  a  slight  touch  of  the  light- 
ning having  partially  stupefied  her. 

"  Arrah.  ma'am, "said  Pat.  taking  in  her  condition  and 
the  danger  of  the  situation  with  one  glance  of  his  keen 
eye,  "it's  sorry  I  am  to  come  into  a  lady's  room  widout 
shtoppin'  to  knock  and  say,  'The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to 
ye,'  but  there's  a  gintleman  beyant  there,"  pointing  to  the 
closed  door,  on  the  other  side  of  which  could  be  heard  tin- 
snapping  of  the  burning  wood,  "as  wants  to  take  posses- 
sion inmiajetly,  and  won't  take  no  denial,  ma'am — aisy, 
thin,  just  a  shtep  now."  With  a  coolness  far  beyond  his 
years,  born  of  his  training  among  city  excitements,  he  was 
half  coaxing,  half  supporting  her  through  the  fast  thick- 
ening smoke  to  the  window,  around  which  those  below 
were  eagerly  watching. 

".lump.  Miss  Nancy — jump!  We'll  catch  you,"  cried  a 
dozen  voices. 

"  See  thim  all  waitin'  for  ye— an  ilegant  jump 'twill  be. 
What  if  ye  was  in  a  live  slitory  tincment-house  and  the 
cruel  bricks  below  ;  Now.  thin — 

But  poor  Miss  Nancy  could  not  jump,  and  Pat  tore  the 
sheets  from  the  bed  and  knotted  them  together  as  he  hur- 
riedly resolved  on  making  a  desperate  attempt  to  lower 
her  to  the  ground.  The  slight  doorway  behind  them  had 
fallen  in  glowing  embers,  and  the  fire  flew  half-way  across 
the  room,  \\lien  the  welcome  sound  of  a  ladder  outside 
scraping  against  the-  weat  her  hoarding  was  heard.  Pat, 
exerting  all  his  boyish  strength,  and  disregarding  Miss 
Nancy's  nervous  si-reams,  managed  to  place  her  in  the 
arms  stretched  to  receive  her.  Then,  with  a  bound,  he 
reached  llu-  ground  lirsl.and  stood  ready  to  help  as  she 
was  brought  doun,  while  a  tongue  of  flame  darted  after 
them  as  if  in  wrath  at  their  escape. 

A  crash  of  thunder  drowned  the  cry  of  triumph  which 
greeted  them,  and  then  the  welcome  rain  poured  down, 
saving  the  barn  and  other  buildings  from  the  fire. 

Jim  took  his  departure  for  the  city  at  the  time  set,  but 
he  went  without  Pat.  A  boy  was  wanted  on  the  place 
to  assist  in  cleaning  up  the  wreck  left  by  the  fire;  then  to 
wait  on  the  masons  who  laid  the  foundations  for  a  new 
house;  then  to  fetch  and  carry  for  the  carpenters  as  the 
walls  rapidly  arose  under  their  lively  hammering;  then  to 
help  remove  rubbish  and  get  things  settled  in  the  new 
home.  And  then  Aunt  Nancy  said : 

"  If  a  big  storm  should  come,  and  this  house  should  get 
struck  by  lightnhf,  and  get  a-fire  and  burn  down  some 
night,  there  isn't  a  livin'  soul  but  Pat  could  get  me  out  of 
it  alive.  Ruth,  I  think  Pat  had  better  stay." 

And  Pat  staid. 

ALL  ABOUT  GOLD-FISH. 

BY  A.  W.  ROBERTS. 
I. 

THE  gold-fish,  or  golden  carp,  is  a  native  of  China, 
where  for  hundreds  of  years  it  has  been  under  domes- 
tication. It  was  first  imported  from  China  to  England  by 
Philip  Worth  in  the  year  1728,  where  it  was  successfully 
bred,  and  became  distributed  throughout  Europe.  In  1831 
some  six  or  eight  dozen  were  brought  from  France,  and 
successfully  established  in  numerous  ponds  in  New  York 
State,  particularly  on  Long  Island. 

Gold-fish  spawn  from  two  to  three  times  during  the 
summer  months,  according  to  the  temperature  of  the  wa- 
ter. The  females  begin  to  leave  the  deep  water  in  April, 
and  by  May  are  all  on  their  spawning  grounds.  The  fa- 
vorite places  for  spawning  are  those  parts  of  the  shore 
where  the  water  is  shallow,  and  is  constantly  exposed  to 
the  warming  rays  of  the  sun,  and  where  the  water  plants 
grow  abundantly.  In  such  places  the  gold-fish  assemble 
in  large  schools,  keeping  the  edges  of  the  pond  in  a  foam 
with  their  constant  gambols.  You  would  think  they  were 


636 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIB.  1. 


having  a  game  of  tag  on  a  grand 
scale,  so  earnestly  do  they  chase  one 
another.  On  such  occasions  they  lie- 
come  very  tame,  and  can  be  taken  iu 
the  hand. 

Kai-li  spawning  season,  lasts  about 
ten  days.  The  eggs  are  fastened  by 
the  females  to  the  stems  of  plants. 
They  are  of  a  clear  salmon -color 

when  first  deposited:  in  course  of  time  they  become  some- 
what darker,  and  two  very  small  black  spots  appear  in 
each  egg;  these  are  the  eyes  of  the  young  gold-fish  im- 
prisoned in  the  egg.  In  a  day  or  two  more  he  begins  to 
wiggle  his  tail  pretty  actively,  and  is  about  ready  to  break 
out  of  his  confinement,  and  enter  a  new  life  of  freedom 
and  danger,  for  you  must  remember  that  fish  of  so  intense 
and  brilliant  colors  as  are  gold-fish  must  always  present  a 
shining  mark  for  hungry  fish,  turtles,  frogs,  storks,  and 
bitterns,  not  to  mention  small  boys  and  big  men. 

All  the  fish  hatched  from  the  egg  are  not  gold-fish  at 

first,  and  some 
never  become 
gold  -  fish  ;  no 
matter  how  long 
they  live  or  how 
large  they  grow, 
they  always  re- 
main silver-fish. 
During  the  first 
and  second  years 
nearly  all  the 
gold  -  fish  that 
were  born  silver-fish  gradually  become  of  a  golden  color. 
The  first  change  of  color  is  to  a  deep  copper  or  bronze; 
they  are  then  called  "turners."  Those  that  do  not  change 
are  always  destroyed  by  breeders  of  gold-fish. 

The  gold-fish  having  been  under  domestication  so  many 
hundred  years,  the  order  of  nature  seems  to  have  become 
somewhat  turned  aside,  so  that  many  curious  freaks  of 
color,  forms  of  body,  and  variations  in  the  number  and 
shape  of  fin,  have  appeared,  as,  for  instance,  fish  with 
double  and  treble  tails  (Fig.  1),  and  examples  having  mal- 
formed bodies 
and  minus  the 
proper  number 
of  fins  (Fig.  2). 

In  color,  there 
are  two  varieties 
of  all  gold — one 


Fig.  2. — A  MALFORMED  GOLD-FISI:. 


Fig.  3.— THE  KIX-CI-TO. 

a  light  pale  gold,  the  other  a  strong 
rich  gold,  bordering  on  a  deep  crim- 
son. This  difference  of  color  is 
caused  by  the  surroundings ;  as.  for 
instance,  if  the  bottom  of  the  pond 
consists  of  a  light-colored  cla\ .  a  ml 

is  exposed  in  all  parts  to  the  diivct  action  of  the  sun,  the 
gold-lish  will  be  of  a  very  pale  gold  and  of  a  weak  con- 
stitution. A  pond  having  a  bottom  of  rich  black  vege- 
table earth  (peat),  plenty  of  water  plants,  and  a  moderate 


amount  of  sunlight  will  contain  fish  of  a  strong  reddisli 
gold-color. 

As  a  rule,  nearly  all  fishes  take  the  color  of  their  im- 
mediate surroundings,  be  they  dark  or  light.  I  have 
kept  striped  bass  in  a  tank  of  light-colored  rock-work,  and 
a  white  gravel  bottom,  with  strong  sunlight,  tmtil  they 
became  of  a  uniform  soiled  white  color.  There  are  also 
gold-fish  mottled  with  black,  copper,  gold,  and  white. 
Then  come  the  "pearl"  fish,  which  are  pure  white,  with 
blue  or  pink  eyes,  and  are  albinos. 

Those  ingenious  people  the  Japanese  have  taken  ad 
vantage  of  the  tendency  of  the  gold-fish  to  develop  odd 
and  strange  forms,  and  have  produced  some  truly  wonder- 
ful and  beautiful  types.  Among  them  is  the  double-tailed 


Fig.  4.—  TllE   ToXli-TSlNG-TO. 


gold-fish  called  the  Kin-gi-yo  (Fig.  3).  Too  much  can 
hardly  be  said  in  praise  of  the  singular  beauty  of  this  fish, 
the  united  tail  fins  being  nearly  the  length  of  the  entire 
body,  and  resembling  the  most  delicate  tissue  as  they  float 
slowly  and  gracefully  through  the  water. 

Of  the  first  lot  of  Kin-gi-yos,  some  eighty  in  number, 
that  started  from  Japan  for  this  country,  only  fifteen 
reached  San  Francisco,  in  a  very  weak  condition,  and  out 
of  the  fifteen  only  seven  reached  Baltimore,  their  place  of 
destination.  One  of  the  most  exquisite  specimens  of  the 
seven  was  purchased  by  the  New  York  Aquarium  for  five 
hundred  dollars,  and  it  was  acknowledged  that  this  sin- 
gle gold-fish  had  yielded  a  profit  of  three  thousand  dollars 
(Fig.  3). 

Another  wonderful  variety  of  gold-fish  exhibited  at  the 
Aquarium  was  the  Chinese  Tong-tsing-yo,  or  quadruple- 
tailed  and  telescopic-eyed  gold-fish  (Fig.  4).  On  exam- 
ining the  illustration  it  will  be  seen  that  the  eyes  are 
very  large,  and  instead  of  occupying  a  cavity  are  placed 


-£•  ,-AkijaJ3*^^r-  ~T~^T~     ;~~~ — ~- * '~~^ ^ — "•'•-—^-'^  --^-"- 

---^^^±:^g1fc:^  -- 

-mMl:  :^;S:       v;r 


^fS^fm^ 

^^«f' 


'  •    '  " ' ' J^  —-,  •  •  "-~"j: —  -^"---  ~  -  .TT — ~~-^i — — — — ----~~ 
Fig.  5— CARP  SLEEPING  (BERLIN  AQUARIUM). 


AUGUST  7,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


637 


at  the  extremity  of  two  eye-stalks,  the  same  as  are  the  eyes 
of  all  crabs  and  some  kinds  of  insects.  The  quadruple 
tail  of  this  fish  is  also  wonderfully  developed.  Instead 
of  drooping,  it  projects  in  fan-like  form.  When  it  is  re- 
membered ho\v  many  thousands  of  miles  these  lish  trav- 
elled before  reaching  New  York,  and  how  many  hundreds 
of  people  admired  their  beautiful  colors  and  strange  forms. 
1  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  they  were  the  most 
wonderful  gold-fish  ever  known. 

In  one  of  the  tanks  at  the  lierlin  Aquarium  in  which 
carp  were  kept  it  was  noticed  thai  they  began  to  act  very 
strangely,  and  were  thought  to  he  sick  i  Kig.  5i.  Some 
would  curve  their  bodies  so  that  their  heads  and  tails 
rested  on  the  bottom  of  the  tank,  thus  describing  an 
arch;  others  rested  their  brails  on  projecting-  rocks,  with 
their  bodies  extending-  outwardly,  and  again  others  bal- 
anced themselves  on  their  heads,  or  lay  down  on  their 
sides.  In  these  cm-ions  positions  they  remained  stationary 
and  rigid,  but  when  food  was  placed  near  them,  or  the\ 


were  disturbed  by  splashing  the  water,  they  would  re- 
sume their  natural  positions,  swim  about  the  tank,  and 
take  their  food.  When  all  was  quiet  they  would  careful- 
ly examine  their  old  resting-places  "with  their  noses,  and 
when  satisfied  would  resume  exactly  the  same  strange 
positions. 

As  all  fish  have  eyes  which  are  without  lids,  and  are  al- 
ways open,  it  has  been  very  hard  to  distinguish  I  heir  sleep- 
ing from  their  frequent  long  periods  of  rest  when  not  in 
search  of  food.  The  question  so  often  asked.  "Do  fish 
sleep  ;"  the  possibility  of  which  has  been  denied  by  most 
naturalists,  is  now  definitely  established,  for  the  curious 
actions  o|' the  carp  described  are  acknowledged  to  be  abso- 
lute proof  that  long  and  sound  periods  of  sleep  were  being- 
indulged  in.  I  have  often  had  gold  lish  become  bent  and 
rigid,  and  had  supposed  the  cause  to  be  paralysis,  which 
1  generally  cured  by  placing  the  fish  in  warm  water,  but 
I  am  now  of  the  opinion  that  they  were  sleeping. 
[TO  UK  coNTixrrn.  j 


Till-]    FATK    OK   ("Iia'MIiLK    TOWN.— Liv  CAKKIK   V.  SHAW. 


HERE  arc  the  ruins  of  Grumble  Town, 
Andlierc  is  the  pathway  stretching  down 
To  where  the  wafers  su  blankly  frown 

In  the  face  of  the  smiling  sun; 
And  there  is  the  spot  where  the  Princess  sat, 
The  vain  little  Princess    Krncsiailt. 
While  wishing  the  terrible  wishes  that 
Were  granted  as  soon  as  dune. 

The  song-birds  sang  in  the  leafy  wood. 
'Hie  frogs  were  croaking   loud  as  they  cimld, 
The  sun  was  going  to  bed.  as  he  should. 

When  the  cross  little  Princess  went 
And  sat    her  down   by  the  water-side, 
Anil  sullenly  stared   in   the   rushing  tide. 
And  moped'  and  ga/eil  and  grumbled  and 
cried 

Till  she  gave  her  feelings  vent, 


And  said:  "I  wish  that  the  frogs  would  hush; 

I  wish  the  waters  would  cease  to  rush  ; 
I  wish  that  the  west  would  never  flush 

With  a   sunset    glow  any  more. 
But  ever  the  sun  keep  blazing  down, 
And  burn  the  world  to  a  coffee  brown. 
And  all  of  the  people  in  Grumble  Town. 

Prom  the  Palace  down  to  the  shore." 


The  milk  of  kindness 
was  turned  to  curds 
In  the   breast   of  a  fairy  who 

heard  her  words, 
And  he   hushed  the   sound  of 

the  singing-birds; 
The  frogs  all  at   once  grew 

still; 

The  sun  flew  up  to  the  zenith  high, 
And  blazed  and  ga/ed  with  a   bras-v  eye. 
Till  it  burned  the  people  brown  and  d'rv. 
Thus  working  the  Princess'  will. 

Seeing  the  woe  she  had  brought  about. 
The  little  Princess  began  to  pout; 


She  tried  to  complain — her  tongue  fell  out, 
So  she  tore  at  her  golden  hair  ; 

And  in  the  face  of  the  heavens'  frown 

The  tongueless  race  to  die  lay  down. 

And  that  was  (he  end  of  Grumble  Town, 
And  of  all  the  people  there. 


638 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Then  how  delightful  to  surprise  mamma  !  It 
would  be  a  good  rule  for  all  boys  and  girls  al- 
ways tu  finish  whatever  they  begin. 


Oi ANTON,  ALABAMA. 


OUR  BABY. 
O  baby,  dear  baby, 

Whatever  you  do. 
You  are  King  of  the  home, 

And  we  all  bend  to  you ; 
We  run  on  your  errands, 

We  haste  at  your  call. 
For  baby,  dear  baby. 

You're  King  of  us  all. 

OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

rpHE  Postmistress  is  glad  to  see  that  the  ehil- 
J-  dren  do  not  grow  tired  of  writing  to  each 
other,  even  when  the  thermometer  climbs  up 
among  tin-  nineties.  Every  mail  which  comes 
to  Franklin  Square  brings  great  bundles  of  the 
nicest  little  letters  you  ever  saw,  and  the  puzzle 
is  to  choose  which  may  be  published  for  every- 
body to  read,  and  which  the  Postmistress  must 
keep  and  enjoy  by  herself. 

One  thing  is  certain,  and  that  is,  that  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  has  won  an  honored  place  in  thou- 
sands of  homes.  The  children  who  read  its  bright. 
pages  with  eager  interest  from  week  to  week 
are  not  the  only  ones  who  speak  in  its  praise. 
All  the  way  from  far-off  Queensland,  for  in- 
stance, comes  this  cordial  indorsement  from  a 
mother,  st-nt  with  the  letter  from  her  boy.  We 
are  sure  that  her  feeling  is  shared  by  very  many 
others  tu  whom  this  paper  is  a  constant  assist- 
ant in  the  nursery,  the  school-room,  and  the  par- 
lor : 

Allow  a  stranger  to  thank  you  for  the  good 
work  you  arc  doing  among  the  young.  Living 
in  a  new  country,  where  the  conditions  of  life 
are  much  the  same  as  in  country  districts  in 
America,  I  find  your  paper  an  invaluable  aid. 
My  children  depend  entirely  on  my  teaching  at 
present,  and  with  a  large  house,  many  callers, 
and  one  servant,  I  often  rind  lessons  a  heavy 
task.  You  may  imagine  how  I  welcome  any- 
thing which  makes  learning  a  pleasure,  as  your 
charming  paper  does. 

My  second  buy.  whose  letter  I  inclose,  is  ten, 
and  has  developed  a  great  taste  tor  letter-writ- 
ing, which  I  attribute  to  the  Post-office  BOX. 

BERTIK'S  MAMMA. 

ROCKHAMPTOV,  QUEENSLAND. 

I  have  been  sick  for  some  days,  and  am  so 
tired  of  doing  nothing  that  I  have  asked  mam- 
ma to  let  me  write  to  yon.  We  always  look  for- 
ward so  milch  to  seeing  Yursi;  ri'oi-i.i:.  lint  it 
comes  to  us  only  once  a  month-  Isn't  that  a 
long  time  tu  wait  :•  We  like  tin-  letters  and  the 
pictures  the  best  of  all.  Tell  Mr.  Otis  we  are 
very  glad  he  is  writing  another  story.  Mamma 
often  lets  us  do  our  reading  lesson  from  the  I  '.  >-t 
office  Box.  This  month  (Mayi  is  the  beginning 
of  our  winter,  ami  the  oranges  are  nearly  ripe, 
so  you  may  guess  it's  not  very  cold. 

We  are  covering  a  big  screen  with  pictures. 
We  thought  it  fine  fun  at  first,  but  now  we  are 
very  tin.,  of  it.  and  mamma  is  afraid  we  will 
never  finish  it.  My  favorite  bonks  are  The  Go- 
ritfa-II"»,  ri<>~  '  '"I'ul  I*hnnl.  and  Mrs.  Brassey's 
Vuyagt  In  Hit  Xiinlirain.  Wouldn't  I  like  to  have 
beeti  with  her!  My  grandmamma  has  gone  to 
England  on  a  visit,  and  we  want  her  back  again 
awfully.  She  offered  to  take  my  older  brother 
for  a  trip,  but  he  said  he  didn't  want  to  go  with- 
out me.  Some  day  we  all  mean  to  go  and  see  the 
places  we  read  about.  I  want  to  see  some  old 
rnins  and  castles.  We  have  unly  new  wooden 
ILIUM'S  here.  My  pony  is  having  a  holiday  now. 
and  I  expect  he'll  be  very  Hash  when  I  am  able 
to  ride  him  again.  I  am  quite  tired  now,  so 
good-by.  BERTIE  W. 

Abont  that  screen,  Bertie.  I  would  certainly 
finish  it.  if  1  were  yon.  I  know  how  weary  one 
somet'in.1^  ui  I  -  ol'  a  large  piece  of  work,  and  how 
strong  is  the  temptation  tu  neglect  it  after  the 
first  interest  is  over,  but  remember,  dear,  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  just  pegging  away  until 
the  very  last  bit  that  you  can  do  has  been  done. 
A  little  time  spent  every  day  by  each  child  in 
the  family,  and  the  pretty  screen  will  be  covered. 


voice,  on  his  return,  long  befort 


Last  spring  Ills  mamina  \\  en i  LU  iiasu VILAGI  auu 
left  him  a  few  weeks  with  his  grandma.  When 
lie  grew  tired  making  "  frog-houses"  in  the  sand, 
he  played  being  a  blacksmith,  and  gathered  all 
the  old  iron  lie  could  find,  and  placed  it  under  a 
large  hickory-tree.  With  the  help  of  an  old  axe 
which  his  grandma  gave  him  he  could  make 
merry  music  to  his  heart's  delight  land  his  grand- 
mother's tool.  He  would  strike  away  for  hours 
so  industriously  that  his  grandma  was  reminded 
of  Longfellow's  "  Village  Blacksmith."  and  made 
a  parody  on  it.  Fur  the  amusement  of  the  young 
people  1  will  send  a  few  lines : 

Under  the  spreading  bick'ry-tree 

The  w;ould-be  smithy  stands; 
The  smith  a  puny  man  is  he. 
With  small  and  grimy  hands. 

Hard  Times  has  a  little  sister,  called  Rat  by  her 
papa,  and  I  think  if  some  of  the  little  folks  could 
see  her  they  would  think  she  was  the  sweetest 
rat  they  ever  saw.  If  Hard  Times  only  knew  it. 
how  many  nice  things  there  are  in  the  world 
waiting  fur  him  to  take  possession,  for,  you  know, 
almost  everybody  lays  by  occasionally  something 
nice  fur  hard  times.  I  would  tell  yon  what  he 
loves  best  in  the  world,  but  some  of  the  little 
girls  might  laugh. 

ONE  wno  KNOWS  HARD  TIMES. 

"It  is  too  bad, "I  hear  some  of  the  little  people 
saying,  "  that  this  nice  lady  stopped  without  tell- 
ing us  that  funny  secret."  Can  it  possibly  be 
kisses  that  Hard  Times  loves  so  well? 


HARTFORD,  CO\VECTICI-T. 

This  is  our  first  letter  to  the  Post-office  Box, 
but  having  read  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever  since  the 
first  number  was  issued  (a  subscription,  as  a 
Christmas  gift,  having  been  sent  us  every  year 
by  a  friend  of  papa  and  mamma  >,  we  thought 
we  should  like  tu  write  a  few  lines  to  the  kind 
Postmistress  who  takes  such  an  interest  in 
boys.  We  two  brothers  are  not  remarkable  in 
any  way,  except  that  we  were  the  first  young 
children  to  make  the  ascent  of  Mount  Mary, 
the  highest  peak  of  the  Adirondacks,  in  1877, 
one  of  us  nine  years  of  age,  the  other  seven, 
walking  every  step  of  the  way.  We  went  into 
camp,  accompanied  by  a  maid  and  a  good  trusty 
guide,  and  were  gone  four  clays  and  three  nights, 
walking  the  fourth  day  from  the  Half-way  House 
to  the  summit,  where  we  rested  and  had  lnneh- 
eon,  and  from  the  summit  down  to  Beede's  Ho- 
tel, past  the  Ausable  lakes,  a  distance  of  seven- 
teen miles  by  the  way  we  came.  We  reached 
In  .me  at  half  past  six,  having  walked,  with  a  brief 
interval  for  rest  at  the  top.  since  seven  in  the 
morning.  People  could  hardly  believe  two  such 
small  boys  were  able  to  accomplish  such  a  feat, 
and  we  felt  ourselves  the  heroes  of  the  hour.  I 
should  like  to  write  more,  but  will  nut  use  too 
much  of  your  valuable  space. 

FREDERIC  s.  and  WILLIAM  M.  B. 

Such  a  performance  was  something  to  be 
proud  of. 


KTRAYTIORN,  MISSISSIPPI. 

My  paper  comes  in  on  Saturday's  mail,  and  I 
enjoy  reading  it  on  Sunday,  as  my  parents  do 
not  let  me  visit  or  play  much  on  that  day.  I  am 
a  boy  ten  years  old,  and  have  vacation  now  Inn 
will  begin  school  again  on  the  1st  of  September. 
We  have  a  private  school,  with  one  of  the  niee-i 
young  ladies  in  the  world  for  a  teacher  I  am 
now  without  a  pet,  as  my  last  one  ,;,  vedhirdi 
died  not  long  ago.  I  fed  it  too  much  which 
caused  its  death.  A  bluebird  built  and  hatched 
a  nestful  of  little  ones  on  top  of  one  of  the  posts 
in  our  front  gallery.  My  two  little  brothers  and 
I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  fishing  since  vaca- 
tion. We  have  a  beautiful  spring  branch  near 
our  house,  where  there  are  a  great  many  small 
fish.  This  is  my  first  letter  to  any  paper,  and  if 
yon  give  it  a  place  in  the  Post-office  Box,  I  will 
try  to  write  a  better  one  next  time.  E.  O.  H. 

This  little   correspondent  sounds  a  warning 

Hole      "  lie-in  school  again  in  September:"     Va- 
cation is  flying,  isn't  it.  buys';    Now  let  the  girls 

speak. 

Here  is  a  little  lady  who  has  something  to  say  : 

FORT  RROWV,  I!IH,\VSSVH.LF,  TEXAS. 

I  have  thought  lots  of  times  I  would  writ.'  rail 
a  letter,  and  have  always  put  it  off  for  some  rea- 


son or  other,  but  when  I  read  that  letter  about. 
the  little  Indian  girl  at  Ham  ptuu,  Virginia,  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  do  it  at  once.  I  lived  several 
years'at  the  Institute  there.  My  papa  used  tu 
be  the  military  instructor,  and  there  were  a  n  um- 
ber of  little  Indian  girls  there  then.  I  was  just 
delighted  tu  see  the  letter  from  Hamilton,  and 
all  abuut  it. 

I  have  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  years, 
and  we  do  not  think  that  we  could  quite  keep 
house  without  it.  We  feel  that  we  are  a  long  dis- 
tance from  yon.  for  they  don't  even  use  American 
money  here  ;  we  ehanu'e  all  onr  American  money 
into  Mexican  before  we  spend  it  in  the  stores  ur 
anywhere,  and  the  people  generally  speak  Span- 

From  our  front  porch  we  look  into  Browns- 
ville, but  Matamuras  is  full  in  sight,  and  is  a  very 
interesting  city  in  Mexico,  just  across  the  river. 
They  all  speak  Spanish,  and  we  have  a  hard  time 
when  we  go  there  because  we  can't  talk  in  that 
language. 

We  have  a  number  of  pets— five  mocking  birds, 
one  beautiful  Mexican  canary  with  a  red  breast, 
bright  blue  head,  and  green  wings,  and  a  linnet. 
Mocking-birds  are  very  cheap  here;  I  saw  two 
in  a  cage  the  other  day  sold  for  seventy-five  cents. 

I  am  ten  years  old.  and  I  have  a  brother  eight 
years  old  ;  his  name  is  Charlie.  We  each  have  a 
pony.  Mine  is  named  Duke,  after  one  mamma 
used  to  have,  and  Charlie's  is  named  Tummy 
Tucker, after  the  boy  in  "Raising  the  'Pearl.'  " 
My  pony  behaved  badly,  and  threw  me  off.  and 
bumped  my  head,  and  stepped  on  my  hand  and 
arm,  bruising  the  latter  dreadfully.  It  has  been 
bandaged  nearly  two  weeks,  and  isn't  nearly  well 
yet.  It  is  my  right  arm,  and  I  had  to  get  mamma 
to  copy  this  letter  because  it  is  so  lame,  and  I 
can  not  practice  my  music  lessons  either. 

It  is  very  hot  here,  and  we  went  and  camped 
out  on  Brazos  Island,  five  miles  out  in  the  Gulf. 
Mamma  says  it  looks  as  Coney  Island  did  when 
she  was  a  little  girl.  We  had  a  number  of  tents, 
and  took  everything  to  make  us  comfortable. 
We  had  one  tent  as  large  as  a  good-sized  room  ; 
then  we  had  two  tents  for  bedrooms,  and  a  tiny 
dining-room  and  kitchen.  It  was  fun  at  first, 
but  w'e  were  all  glad  to  get  home.  We  went  in 
bathing,  but  were  afraid  to  swim  in  deep  water 
for  fear  of  sharks  ;  there  are  a  good  many  h.  i .-. 
Charlie  and  I  learned  to  swim  at  Hampton  \\  e 
gathered  lots  of  shells,  pink  and  white  ones,  and 
all  kinds;  but  I  would  rather  live  in  a  lion-.. 
wouldn't  you?  I  would  like  to  send  some  shells 
to  Young  People's  Cot  if  I  thought  the  sick  chil- 
dren w.  mill  like  them  to  play  with.  Do  you  think 
they  would  ? 

1  have  written  you  a  long  letter,  but,  as  I  \\  ant 
to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers  I  send  you  two 
receipts— one  of  Grandma  L.'s,  who  lives  in  New 
Mexico,  and  one  we  made  up.  I  wish  somebody 
would  tell  how  they  like  them.  Theynever  were 
known  to  fail  if  made  right  : 

(ii:v  MIMA'S  CAKK.— Six  eggs  beaten  separately, 
two  cups  of  sugar,  one  cup  of  butter,  three-quar- 
ters of  a  cup  of  milk,  two  heaping  tea-spoonfuls 
of  baking-powder,  four  cups  of  flour  .pn\  ioii^iy 
sifted),  and  two  tea-spoonfuls  of  vanilla  or  one  of 
almond,  flavoring  according  to  taste;  beat  the 
sugar  and  butter  together  well:  then  add  the 
yolks  of  the  euri-rs.  then  the  milk,  then  the  whites 
of  the  eggs,  and  then  the  tlonr  with  the  baking- 
powder;  while  this  is  in  theuyen  take  half  a  cake 
of  Baker's  chocolate,  and  let  it  melt  on  the  stove 
with  two  table-spoonfuls  uf  water:  then  beat  it 
up  with  a  cup  of  sugar  and  the  white  of  an  eirg 
beaten  to  a  froth,  and  spread  this  on  the  eak.- 
\\  ell  as  suon  a-  n  euines  out  uf  the  oven,  and  you 
will  have  one  large  or  two  small  cakes  fit  fur  a 
queen.  Mamma  and  1  made  one  yesterday. 

''ANDY. — Three  cups  of  sugar,  one  cup  of  wa- 
ter, and  one  lemon  ;  don't  stir  at  all;  don't  put 
in  the  lemon  until  it  is  nearly  done.  All  the  Lit- 
tle Housekeepers  by  this  time  know  how  tu  tell 
when  candy  is  done,  which  is  when  it  hardens 
in  water.  Your  loving  friend.  NINA  K. 

As  I  remember  perfectly  how  Coney  Island 
n-.'d  to  look.  I  readily  imagined  you  on  Brazos 
Island.  I  prefer  a  house  to  a  tent,  decidedly.  I 
am  sorry  your  pony  was  so  naughty,  and  1  hope 
he  will  behave  better  when  next  you  ride  him. 
•Hi,  children  at  St.  Mary's  Hospital  would  be  .1, 
lighted  with  a  box  of  shells;  most  uf  them  can 
play  only  with  things  which  are  pretty,  but  nut 
heavy.  Thanks,  Nina,  for  the  receipts.  I  intend 
io  have  grandma's  cake  for  tea  some  day  so.  m 


BALTIMORE,  MARVI  AM.. 

I  have  a  little  dog.  and  he  is  very  funny.  T 
spend  the  summer  with  my  grandmother  a1  the 
sea-shore,  and  go  in  bathing  every  day.  I  li.uk 
forward  with  great  pleasure  to  every  Tue-da\ 
when  Yorxu  PEOPLE  arrives.  I  liked  "Nan" 
ever  so  much,  and  was  pleased  with  "In  Ilunur 
Bound."  KATIE  Mi-l-.T. 


ADAMS,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  n  little  girl  eight  years  uld.  I  live  in  a 
beautiful  country  place  situate, I  at  the  fuot  of 
Mount  Greylock ;  it  is  a  large  manufacturing  vil- 
lage. I  have  no  brothers  and  sisters  like  musi  ,,f 
the  children  who  write  to  you;  Iliad  a  little  bro- 
ther whom  I  loved  very  dearly,  but  he  died  last 
winter.  I  have  for  pets  a  canary-bird,  which  I 


7.  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


639 


call  Don  Peep,  a  parrot,  named  Polly,  and  two 
cats,  namea  Muff  and  Teil.  I  can  drive  a  ear- 
riase  horse  very  nice!).  I  so  i"  -ehool,  and  am 
in  tin-  til'iti  (Trade.  I  nave  recited  some  poetry 
Iroin  VOTNO  PEOPLE  in  school.  LETTIE  M.  M. 


FAIBP-  i 

I  am  eleven  years  old.  I  live  at  Fail-port,  which 
is  a  harf">r  "ii  Lake  Erie.  I  live  in  the  lishi- 
My  lather  is  light-keeper  Many  nf  the 
lars-  •-!  vessels  that  si'.il  u  i  ii.  n  the  lakes  mine  here, 
hrmsing  iron  ore  from  tin-  Lake  superior  mines 
I  :.'..  to  school  at  Painesville.  and  I  hav-  a  ride  of 
three  miles  every  morning  and  night,  hut  it  is  va- 
cation now.  I  have  one  sister,  and  for  a  pet  i 
have  an  old  cat.  If  I  hold  up  my  hand.-,  hi  w  ill 
jump  over  them.  He  is  fifteen  years  old,  and 
his  name  is  Dick.  ESTELLA  L.  H. 


y  sn  K  pieces.      B.uareaa 

ALICE,  can-  of  I  'nlolH-1   \VlliTl-y. 

Cobours.  i  Hilar:o,  I'anada 


AI  l:,s*  .    N  I  'V     1  ..TK. 

I  have  a  little  dog  Ned  :  he  is  a  very  mi-eliiev- 
..ii-  little  do:;,  and  a  very  smart  one.  I  had  a 
idee  eanary  hir.l.  and  when  he  was  bathing  my 
Jittle  doi;  just  ale  him  up.  1  don't  know  how  he 
rollld  ha\e  done  it.  he  is  -ueh  a  ^ I  ilo-  He 


jio  matter  now  Miueh  he  is  combed  and  brushed. 

Not  a  -  .il  darea  to  Cl  me  near  him.  tlie\  are  so 
;ifraid  of  him.  MAIIYC.  I,  aged  9  yi 

Well.  I  think  it  was  a  great  shame  f.  >r  \ed  to 
«at  the  poor  canary. 

P*IST   I.li  K,  KKNTI  •  k  V. 

Tti.'  stories  we  like  hest  are  .Minmy  I'.rown's 
and  "  l!ai-ins  tiie  •  Pearl.' ''  We  are  not  going  to 

-el I    now  .   hill    w  ill    lies  ill    soon         \\  e    In  e    on    a 

I  IP -I  i  \  little  knoll  on  Paint  I.iek  i  reel.,  t  hive  ami 
41  half  miles  Irolll  Paint  Lick,  a  lit  lie  town  <  .n  the 
railroad.  Papa  is  a  fanner;  he  also  runs  a  sri-t- 
mill  ami  a  steam-thresher.  A  few  <h\-  aso  a 
man  passed  the  road  leading  a  lame  hear:  it  was 
of  a  dark  In-own  (••  >!or.  We  have  no  pet  -.  e \eept 
a  III  tie  three  year  old  hroiher:  his  name  is, lames 
Day  id.  hut  we  call  him  Pet .  We  are  i  wo  sisters, 
aged  thirteen  ami  fourteen.  This  is  our  lirsl  let- 
ter, liood  liy.  with  love  t.  .  tile  l'o-t  111  i-t  res- 

s  M.I.IK  and  Moi  in    II 

It  is  very  oild  that  so  many  thins*  happen  in 
the  children's  lives  w-hicli  are  precisely  like  what 
happens  in  mine.  Now  one  morning  lately,  as  I 
sat  in  a  lovely  country  house  be-ide  a  window,  in 
the  shade  of  a  sraml  old  maple-tree.  w  hat  should 
come  alons  l"it  a  bis  hrown  hear,  led  hy  au  Ital- 
ian, w  ho  made  the  poor  thins  dance  a  jis.  stand 
on  his  hind -feet.  how.  and  cut  <. -\eral  otln  r queer 
•capers  tor  the  entertainment  of  a  sronp  of  wide- 
eyed  Children.  I  felt  as  sorry  for  poor  P,rownie 
as  I  do  for  the  I. is  white  polar  hear  pantins  for 
hivath  ill  Central  Park. 


for  word  from  Freddie's  lips,  without  any  altera- 
tion on  my  pait  KRLDL>IE  M.'s  GRANDMA. 

WIIAT  CAME  TO  LITTLE  ETHEL'S  IK  d  -I 

It  was  a  happy  day  when  little  Ethel   si i 

standins  at  the  door.' with  her  bare  feet  shiver 
ma  with  the  cold. 

••  I  wish  I  could  have  a  penny,"  murmured  she. 
in  a  low  sweet  voice. 

Ethel  was  the  favorite  of  all  the  city  around, 
tun   none  lo\ed  her  so  well  as  her  moth 
grandmother.    The  sate  was  left  ..pen.     i 
Ethel,  who  was  only  I  \\  o   years  old,  thought   -t 
would  he  a  grand  day  to  march  out  and  take  her 
doll  nam<  d  Kat  inka      so  out  marched  Ethel,  put 
•  in  her  pink  -un  Ponm  t   Tied  with   two  -irinu-. 
1'  '.  IMIIS  pleased  and  ^':t  V.      Kthei  had  a  black  div-s 
on.  and  the  ,.  .  ii  scarlet  dress  on.  with 

lace.  Someliod\  had  si\en  her  thos,-  thinss  for 
her  doll:  a  kind  lady  had  hroiisht  these  lo\elv 
things,  and  had  put  them  into  her  stocking  one 
Christmas,  and  that's  the  way  she  had  sot  them. 

s      ..iir  she   marched,  and  her  doll  seemed   as 
much]  A  policeman  wasstand 

ins  in  the  street,  hul  Kthel  went  on  withoul  the 

polieemall  -eeins  her  Kthel  wished  her  doll 
could  walk.  She  retnenihered  that  her  doll  had 
on  blue  silk  sloekinss.  and  hlack  slippers  lied 
with  red  how-,  and  a  yellow  sun-lioniiet  lipped 
round  with  red.  >he  met  some  little  hoys  with 
llowers.  and  many  voices  -insins.  Kthel  was 
amazed  to  hea'1  -neh  void  -  soft.  Kthel  J'ell  suri- 
that  soim-lhins  had  been  to  her  house  :  the  kind 
lady  had  sent  her  -omeihins  She  walked  alons 
l.\  the  river  up  to  the  stone  sate,  and  she  saw 
the  sate  was  • 

Now  Klhel  was  a  mischievous  little  thins,  and 
in  she  walked   in  the  sale,  and   she  saw 
lo\  el\   wood-,  and  a  ca-t  le  stood  he  fore  her  with 

lovely  ilower>    Ethel  forgot  she  was  not  at  home, 

SO     she    Went     alld    pieked    the    flowers,    for     I     toM 

you  thai    Kthel   was  a    mischievous   little   Ihins. 

and  so  -he  \\a-      MU    made  -oinc  bouquets,  and 

save  the  most  heailtitnl  -untlower  to  Kalinka  to 

hold  in  her  hai.d      Ethel  came  out  of  the  sate. 

and  then  closed  it,  and  -..me  ,  i  ,     mi  i    her,  and 

w-alked    with   her  a    hltie    while.     A   his 

earn  i    out .  and  said.  "  \\  ho  ha-   been   pi-  kins  all 

my  llowers?"    I  would  ha\e  I'd,,    i  u  ! 

dear  liltli-  Klhel  had  not  picked  them,  lint   il  it 

had  been  his  ou  n  child.  FREDDIE  M. 


TL-STIN  CITV.  CALIFORNIA. 

I  live  in  Southern  California.  I  am  thirteen 
years  old.  and  this  is  the  fourth  year  I  have  taken 
Voi  M;  PEOPLE.  I  will  tell  you  about  tin-  ostrich 
farm  near  which  we  live.  We  visited  it  in  .lime. 
The  tirst  Ihins  we  saw  ..f  the  ostriches  wa-  their 
Ions  neeks  stiekins  above  the  fence.  The  -me 
that  is  quite  tame  filled  its  month  with  water. 
and  tried  to  squirt  it  on  us.  They  are  eight  feet 
hish.  and  are  awful  kickers;  they  can  kick  a 
plank  t<  i  pieces  when  they  get  angry.  The  males 
are  black  and  white,  and  tin-  females  are  sray. 
The  esss  are  equal  t<  >  twenty  hen's  esss,  ami  «  me 
filled  up  my  hat.  They  are  of  a  very  lisln  sn-en 
•color,  and  I  am  told  that  they  are  worth  MI*I 
•each.  They  feed  the  ostriches  with  turnips,  corn, 
and  -ueh  thinss  The  owner  brought  t  went  y -two 
from  Africa  about  three  months  ago,  and  one 
was  killed  by  its  mate.  It  is  thought  they  will 
pay.  The\  have  already  been  picked  once.  and. 
There  are  eishty  esss  hatching.  They  are  pielv- 
ed  once  in  seven  months.  MAMIE  S. 

Letters  like  this,  giving  accounts  of  what  voiins 
eyes  see,  are  always  very  welcome. 


MOL-NT  Hi'ii.v.  VRW  JKRIEY. 

A  little  child,  something  over  five  years  old, 
who  loves  to  hear  stories  from  YOUNG  I'EOPLE, 
sometimes  talks  stories,  and  draws  pictures  to 
«uit  each  one.  This  which  I  send  is  exactly  word 


'     ,  i  .  •,  i  * 

[  do  not  know  who  is  kind  enough  to  send  HAR- 
PER'S 1  01  -.,.  !'i  OP  i"  I  think  I  owe  it 

t,,  :,  _',,od  uncle  who  lives  in  New  ^  ,,|-k  and  has 
little  L'irls  ol  hi-  own       M1    h.  •me  is  on  a   !-• 
ranch  hep.  in  California       i  mr  hon-,    is  situated 
on  the  lop  ot  a  seiith  risins  hill,  from  w  Inch  we 
did  \  i.  u  --I  the  \aiie\  t.<  low  u-.    I 

have  three  little  sisters.  I  have  a  nice  p,,n\  tOO, 
and  a  saddle.  I  go  to  school,  and  take  music  les 
son.-,  as  well  as  st miv  reading,  spelling,  arithrae 
tic, geography, and  grammar.  I  inelo-e  ii\ ,  e,  ni  - 
for  the  Nautilii-  :  please  send  si/.e  sixteen  im-h,  - 
I  -end  \on  a  pressed  pansy  and  a  receipt  for  | 

i  1:1  MI  SPONl  i  '  MM  I'.reak  two  esss  into  a 
cup.  heat  well,  aiid  lill  t  he  cup  w  ith  sweet  cream- 
Have  ready  in  a  pan  one  cup  of  Hour,  one  • 

susar.  and  one  larse  tea-sj nful  of  bakins  po\\ 

der.     .Mix.  stir  lishtlv.  and  bake  in  a  very  quick 
oven.  i;   MAT  W. 

Your  pattern  has  been  sent.  All  tin-  clever 
little  sirls  think  they  11111-1  dn  --  l  heir  d-  ilia  alter 
our  pretty  sailor  pattern.  Thanks  for  the  pan-> 

ST.  PAUL,  MINNESOTA. 

We  are  two  little  boys  eisht  and  ten  year-  old. 
\\  e  lake  Yen- Mi  PEOPLE.  ••>''.  A"i'7»V««.  and  Picture- 
-..•.but  we  like  Vii  M.  PEOPLE  best,  for  it 
comi  s , -very  week.  Welike"Kaisingthe'Pearl'" 
and  "The  i  ain.e  club"  the  best  of  the  stories 
We  came  to  si.  Paul  from  the  East  this  sprins. 
and  like  it  here  yerj  much.  We  have  been  out 
to  Fort  .Snellins  several  times  ;  we  like  to  see  i  In 

soldiers.    Last  Sunday  papa  took  us  out, and  e 

ins  home  we  tilled  our  .ussy  with  the  h>\.  h. -i 
wild  flowers      We  wish  we  could  send  you  some 
of  them.    With  love  to  the  Postmistress,  we  are 
WILLIE  and  HARUY  P. 


BHOWNSVILLK,  MI  —  M  1:1 

I  see  that  many  of  the  girls  and  boys  are  writ- 
ins  to  you.  ami  I  think  I  ought  to  write  too.  I 
don't  know  which  piece  in  HARPER'S  YOI-M; 
PEOPLE  is  the  best.  I  like  all  of  them.  I  have 
but  one  pet.  and  that  is  a  canary-bird,  ami  his 
name  is  Dick.  He  sings  nearly  all  of  the  time. 
I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  have  a  sister  two 
years  yoimser.  and  her  name  is  Wilma.  She  and 
1  ha\e  a  piano  together.  We  have  been  taking 
music  le-si  in-  I-  ir  nearly  a  year,  and  I  have  taken 
two  picees.  i,nt  -i-ter  Wilma  has  not  taken  any 
yet.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeep- 
ers, si-ter  Wilma  and  I  are  each  making  a  cali- 
co dress  all  by  hand.  We  have  the  skirts  nearly 
finished.  and  as  soon  as  we  set  them  finished 
mamma  is  going  to  stive  each  of  us  a  gold  rim.' 

MARY  L.  P.. 

Favors  are  acknowledged  from  Edith  H.  ivour 
request  about  puzzles  is  noted  i.  Jlainlf  L..KIlie 
Lizzie  F.,(»eorffe  O.  K.  (this  lad  deserves  credit 


for  perseverance ;  he  is  nine  years  old,  and  for 
two  summers  has  earned  the  money  to  pay  for 
Y'orxi;  Pt.ori.!.  \,\  piekins  herries  ;  honor  to  Green 
Mountain  plueki.  Fannie  S..  K.  ('..  K.  V,.  i\\ho 
rides  to  school  on  a  senile  pony  named  Prince), 
Mamie  M,  <who  writes  beautifully,  and  gained  a 
gold  medal  last  term  for  penmanship),  J.  31,  S. 
have  patience, dear,  your  exchange  '-an  not  ap- 
p>  ar  jil-t  now.  tint  w  ill  he  To  re  Ions1.  M.Y.  H.  ivour 
letter  was  fragrant'.  Frank  L..  Lintmi  II.  i  who  is 
sure  Itavy  T  's  remarkable  pri  wa-  a  sroiind- 

squirrei'.  Harry  S.  C.  i> ire  quite  a  man  ot'busi- 

i lidni  A.,  Juu.    1  I  hin k  \  on  would  do  well  to 

a- 1.  your  professor  of  astronomy  ai  scl 1  about 

that  sun  spot  .  and  linlibir  K.  L.     Thanks  to  all. 


PUZZLES  FROM  Y.H'Nii  ci  INTPJIH'TORS. 
No.  1. 

A    SQUAUK    WITHIN    A     IIIVMONP 

Diamond  1.  A  letter.  3.  To  caress.  3.  To  cut. 
4.  A  number.  5.  A  leitt  r 

sqnare.— 1.  Tocaress.  •_'.  A  woman  of  antiquity. 
::  A  number.  ARABI  BEY. 


No.  '.'. 

AN   EASY    ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  boy's  nickname.  'J.  A  sirl's  name.  3.  A 
threshold.  4  A  fish.  Primalsand  tinals  spell  the 
name  ol  a  favorite  game.  FRAXK  I).  MERRITT. 


N...  3, 

EN  1C  M   \. 

My  tir-t  is  in  pie.  but  not  in  cake. 
Mv  si  <  ond  in  sleep,  but  not  in  wake. 
My  third  is  in  sale,  but  not  in  wind. 
M '.  fourth  is  in  torn,  but  not  in  pinned. 
My  fifth  is  in  pulley,  but  not  in  w  heel. 
My  sixth  is  in  pollack,  hut  not  in  eel 
My  seventh  in  under,  lint  not  in  above. 
My  eishth  is  in  sw'allow.  but  not  in  dove. 
My  w-hole  is  a  curious  living  Ihins. 
With  beak  and  claws,  but  without  wins. 

HERBERT  Ii.  FOSTER. 


No.  4. 

TWO    1    v-\     :>l  15IONDS 

1.— 1.  A  consonant.  2.  Antique.  3.  Pure.  4  A 
period  of  time.  :,  A  con-onant. 

'^. — 1.  A  consonant  -.'  A  number.  3.  Something 
it  is  well  t.'  avoid  takins  I  •something  which  is 
twisted  with  care.  5.  A  eon  .,,nant. 

JOHN  E.  QUESTA. 

No   :. 
A   DOUBLE   ACROSTIC. 

The  primals  name  a  celebrated  author,  the 
tinal-  one  of  his  works. 

1.  A  tish.  ^.  A  prophet  named  in  the  Bible.  :i 
An  invader  of  Rome.  4.  A  bird.  .">.  A  rule.  U. 
A  judge  of  Israel.  7.  A  little  bag.  8.  Obscure. 
!l.  An  elf.  10.  A  kind  of  lily.  11.  To  guard.  1'J. 
Before.  13.  Not  distant.  14.  Rises  high. 

l.ol  ISE   B. 

ANSWERS  •]'()  ITZZI.KS  IN  No.  194. 
Xo.  1.  The  van.    B.  C. 

N.I  V  B  T 

ID  DOG 


B    I    S    il    N 


D   O  N 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 


T  O  W  E   L 
G   E  T 

L 

Don  Quixote. 
S  L  A   T   E 

LOVER 

A  V   E   N    A 

T    K    N    1)    S 
E   RASE 


The  answer  to  the  Flower  Puzzle  on  page  608 
of  No  1!P5  is  as  follows  :  The  favorite  knight  took 
the  Mh  path,  counting  from  the  top, and  pick- 
ing up  the  letters  as  he  went,  at  last  reached  the 
centre,  and  plucked  the  flower.  Putting  the  let- 
ter- in  their  regular  order,  he  found  that  they 
formed  the  name  "  Nosodon."  Returning,  he 
knelt  at  the  feet  of  the  Princess,  and  presenting 
the  flower,  claimed  her  hand  and  heart.  The  un- 
successful suitors  found  that  iln-ir  letters  made 
the  words  "no."  "no  use."  "never."  "no  go," 
"not."  etc.  And  the  Prince  and  Princess  were 
married,  and  lived  happily  ever  after. 


Answer  to  the  Riddle  on  page  008  of  No.  195— 
A  fan.  

Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Lota  A.,  G.  C.  llardin.  s.  K.  .L.  Robert  L. 
Allee.  Edith  Hawkes.  Harry  II  Hirst.  Fred  Moll- 
man.  H.  Kensett,  Gazetta,  Cambridge  Livingston, 

•}.  H..C.W.  Reynolds.  Josephine   Hops 1.  Mary 

Ada  Chambers.  Samuel  Branson.  Max  Babb,  El- 
len Loomis,  Carlton  J.,  Amy  and  Alice  Trevor, 
Luella  D.,  and  Jack  Thompson. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2ci  and  3d  pagts  of  cover.] 


640 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


these  days  of 
gas  and  electric 
lights  it  seems  very 
strange  to  hear  of  burning 
whale-oil  in  lamps,  or  even  to 

use  petroleum,  but  an  actual  candle  that  grows  in  the  sea.  and 
is  afire,  too.  is  still  more  strange. 

This  candle  is  the  fattest  nf  fat  little  fish,  and  it  is  found  in 
the  Northern  seas,  the  very  region  where  it  is  most  needed.  It 
is  quite  ornamental  by  moonlight,  and  glitters  like  pearls  in  the 
water  because  of  its  shiny  armor.  The  Indians  of  Russian  Amer- 
ica and  Vancouver  Island  catch  the  little  fish — which  are  about 
as  large  as  smelts — with  immense  rakes,  having  teeth  made,  of 
bone  or  sharp-pointed  nails,  and  every  time  the  rake  is  swept  in 
one  tish  at  least,  and  sometimes  three  or  four,  will  be  found  fast 
on  each  tooth. 

To  make  tliem  into  candles  the  women  take  a  long  wooden 
needle,  and  thread  it  with  a  piece  of  rush  pith,  which  is  drawn 
through  the  tish  from  head  to  tail.  When  this  wick  is  lighted 
the  tish  burns  steadily  in  its  rough  candlestick — only  a  bit  of 
wood  split  at  one  end  to  hold  the  eaiidli — and  gives  a  light 
bright  enough  to  read  by.  It  is  not  very  probable,  though, 
that,  the  natives  use  many  of  them  for  this  purpose. 

Large  quant  hies  of  these  useful  little  tish  are  turned  into  oil 
— but  not  to  l>e  burned  in  lamps.  It  is  the  favorite  supply  of 
winter  food,  and  helps  to  keep  out  the  terrible  cold  of  those 
long  Northern  winters.  When  Mrs. Indian  has  oil-making  on 
hand  the  children  probably  tind  it  worse  than  washing-day  or 


cleaning  house,  and  are  glad 
enough  to  take  their  little 
bows  and  arrows  or  spears  and 
go  off  until  things  are  quiet 
again  around  the  lodge. 

First  the  squaw  makes  five 
or  six  large   tires,  and  throws 
a  number  of  large  round  peb- 
bles   into   each    to    be    heated 
very  hot.     Four  large  square 
boxes  of  pine-wood  are  ready 
by  each  fire,  and  in  every  box 
she  piles  a  layer  of  fish,  which 
she   covers   with   cold  water, 
and  then  puts  in  five  or  six  of 
the  heated  stones.     AVhen  the 
smoke  has  cleared  away  small 
pieces  of  wood  are  laid  on  tin- 
stones, then   more  fish,  water, 
stones. and  wood. until  the  box 
is  filled.     The  liquid  from  this 
box  is  used   for  the   next  one 
in  place  of  water,  and  the  float- 
ing oil  is  then  skimmed  off  from  the  surface.     This  oil  is  put 
into  bottles  which  are  also  found  in  the  sea.     An  immense  sea- 
weed with  hollow  stalks  that  widen  like  a  lln.sk  at  the  root  is 
gathered  for  this  purpose,  and  each  bottle  will  hold  nearly  a 
quart  of  oil.      Candle-fish  is  the  every-day  name  of  the  oil-giver, 
but  on  great  occasions  it  is  Salmo pacificus. 


AY.IITR  POLO. 

the  sketch  below  we  have  a  picture  of  an 
amusing  game  that  took  place  at 
the  Alexandria  Kegatta,  in  the 
harbor  off  Kas-el-Teen  Palace, 
over  which  his  Highness  the 
Khedive  of  Egypt  and  a  num- 
ber of  English  officers  presided. 
The  competitors,  attired  in  bath- 
ing-dresses, dived  into  the  sea. 
and  mounted  floating  wooden 
horses,  upon  which  they  paddled 
after  a  foot-ball  which  floated 
on  the  surface.  Owing  to  the 
horses  not  being  properly  bal- 
anced, the  contest  was  not  a 

success  except  as  a  first  trial.  The  foot-ball  disappeared  myste- 
riously, and  no  prize  was  awarded.  Profiting  by  experience, 
the  defects  in  the  wooden  horses  can  be  remedied,  and  a  water 
polo  race  will  perhaps  form  an  attractive  feature  in  the  future 
sports  on  the  water. 


HARPERS 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


LLUSTRATED 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  198. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  P.UOTIIERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  August  14,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HAKFIB  A  BROTHERS. 


$1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


"•I    WANT    THIS    VINE,'   HE    ANSWERED. "-SEE  STORY,  PAGE  642. 


642 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"ALL  THE  SAME." 

BY  ELLA  WHEELER. 

I  KNOW  a  darling  1ml  >y  girl- 
Miss  Olytie  is  her  name; 
She  has  the  cutest  little  way 
Of  ending  anything  she'll  say 

With  three -words— "  All  the  same." 

"VVe  tell  her  she's  an  angel  child. 

That  straight  from  heaven  she  came; 
She'll  listen."  wondering  the  while. 
And  then  she'll  answer,  with  a  smile. 
"I'm  Clytie,  all  the  same." 

Again  she's  naughty,  and  we  scold  ; 

"She  meekly  bears  our  blame- 
Pouts  just  a  little,  hides  her  face, 
And  tlien  asserts,  with  matchless  grace, 
"You  love  me,  all  the  same." 

Sometimes  we  laugh  when  we  should  frown- 

I  own  it,  to  our  shame. 
I  tell  her  to  put  down  my  pen; 
She  minds,  but  says,  "Thome  day  again 

I'll  take  it,  all  the  same." 

All  sweetness  and  all  mischief  both 

Dwell  in  her  fairy  frame. 
And  anything  the  elf  may  do — 
Alas!  I' think  she  knows  it,  too— 

She's  charming,  "all  the  same." 


MORNING-GLORIES  AND  SHOES. 

BY  JENNIE  M.  BINGHAM. 

SUCH  a  chattering!  One  might  think  a  flock  of  birds 
had  been  disturbed,  only  it  was  very  human  chatter- 
ing, every  bit  issuing  from  the  mouths  of  some  half-dozen 
school-girls,  who  with  baskets  and  books  had  just  tripped 
down  the  steps  of  the  venerable  stone  school-house,  and 
were  loitering  along  to  their  homes. 

"It  must  be  the  very  best  exhibition  we've  ever  had,'' 
said  the  tallest  girl,  decidedly. 

"  I'm  so  glad  I've  got  that  new  music !  You'll  have  to 
help  me  select,  girls,"  cried  out  a  little  midget  in  blue 
ribbons. 

''And  oh,  Mabel,  what  ivill  you  wear?"  shouted  an- 
other girl,  as  if  this  were  the  question. 

"  It's  an  easy  thing  for  you,  Mabel,"  suggested  a  quiet 
voice,  as  its  owner  glanced  from  her  own  plain  calico  to 
the  dainty  muslin  of  the  other  girl. 

''I'm  going  to  have  a  dress  n1  rait/lit  from  New  York," 
she  answered,  dwelling  with  emphasis  on  the  "straight." 
"  Mother  said  I  should  if  I  took  part  in  the  Ex." 

"Lucky  child !"  groaned  little  Blue-Ribbons.  "Mine  '11 
be  that  everlasting  muslin  straiglit  from  the  closet,  where 
it's  been  my  bestest  for  two  years,"  ending  up  with  a  com- 
ic sigh  and  a  laugh,  in  which  they  all  joined. 

"  Rachel,  you  may  have  all  the  scarlet  geraniums  you 
want." 

"Oh,  splendid !  By-by ;"  and  Rachel  turned  in  before  a 
hiimbK-  little  house,  and  bounded  up  the  steps. 

"Oh,  mother,  I'm  going  to  recite  at  the  Ex!"  she  call- 
ed before  she  was  fairly  in. 

"Ain't  it  jolly?"  puffed  Johnnie,  breathless  in  his  at- 
tempts to  be  the  news-bearer. 

"Why  don't  you  say  something,  mother?"  demanded 
the  girl. 

"What   do   you   want   me   to   say?      Minnie  is  glad 
enough  for  both,"  answered  the  mother,  smiling  a  very 
faint  smile   over  her  sewing-machine,  and  glancing  to- 
ward the  in  valid-chair,  where  a  pair  of  very  thin  Land 
were  being  clapped  vigorously. 

"Of  course  Minnie  is  pleased,"  advancing  to  bestow  a 
rapturous  hug. 

"What  will  you  wear,  Rachel  ?"  asked  the  mother.  ; 
trifle  anxiously. 


"The  same  old  thing,"  answered  Rachel,  trying  to 
sav  it  cheerfully.  "A  new  dress  is  out  of  the  question. 
But  I'll  have  my  cambric  latindried.  Don't  you  think 
it  looks  real  nice,  Min,  when  it's  starched  ?  And  some 
new  shoes,  eh  ?" 

"Won't  your  old  shoes  answer?"  asked  the  mother, 
hesitatingly. 

"  Why,  mamma,  look !"  and  Rachel  raised  up  a  decided- 
ly shabby  shoe.  "  Oh,  don't  sigh  so." 

"We've  had  so  many  expenses  lately.  I  know,  dear, 
you're  very  cheerful  .to  get  along  without  a  dress.  But 
where  shoes  are  coming  from  I  don't  know." 

"What  will  you  recite  ?"  asked  Minnie,  giving  her  sis- 
er's  hand  a  little  pat  of  sympathy. 

"I  haven't  quite  decided,"  began  Rachel,  shaking  off 
ler  sad  air.  "Miss  Moore  spoke  of  Alice  Gary's  'Order 
'or  a  Picture.'  But  I  like  '  Kentucky  Belle'  best." 

"  Oh  yes,  you  know  that  so  well,  Rachie." 

"Do  I?"  and  Rachel  stepped  out  on  the  floor,  with  a 
stage  bow,  and  began  in  a  very  sweet  voice : 

"  '  Pummel-  of  sixty-three,  sir,  and  Conrad  was  gone  away, 
Gone  to  the  country  town,  sir,  to  sell  our  first  loail  of  hay.' 

'  Oh,  I  think  this  is  so  pretty!"  and  she  lowered  her  voice 
and  waved  her  hands  gracefully: 

' '  From  enst  to  west,  no  river  to  shine  out  under  the  moon. 
Nothing  to  make  a  shadow   in  tlie  yellow  afternoon  ; 
Only  tlie  breathless  sunshine,  as  I  looked  out  all   I'orloni ; 
Onh   the  rustle,  rustle,  as  I  walked  among  the  corn.'" 

"  It's  beautiful.  I  know  you '11  get  some  flowers.  Won't 
she,  mamma  ?"  asked  Minnie,  clapping  her  hands  again. 

"Hush,  child,  don't  get  excited.  It's  tea-kettle  time, 
Rachel." 

Such  busy  times  as  those  were  among  the  girls  and 
boys,  plum])  up  to  the  time  of  the  dress  rehearsal !  Such 
trials  of  skill  before  home  critics  and  mirrors,  such  a 
thumping  of  pianos  by  the  musical  part!  You  will  per- 
haps understand  when  I  tell  you  that  the  annual  exhi- 
bition was  the  event  of  that  little  village. 

And  then  the  dress  rehearsal !  On  the  authority  of 
the  blue-ribboned  girl  they  had  "  such  a  good  time." 

This  dress  rehearsal  was  where  the  trouble  began  for 
my  heroine —  But,  there!  I'm  getting  ahead  of  my  story. 
Well,  Rachel  practiced,  you  may  be  sure,  and  ironed  out 
her  pretty  cambric,  and  hoped  against  hope  that  some- 
thing would  turn  up.  Sometimes  she  felt  like  rushing- 
into  the  shop  and  demanding  some  shoes  of  those  provok- 
ing shop-men  who  would  set  up  the  daintiest  ones  in  the 
window  right  before  her  eyes. 

But  the  dress  rehearsal  came,  and  absolutely  nothing 
had  turned  up.  And  so  Rachel  (doesn't  she  deserve  to  In- 
called  a  heroine  ?)  covered  up  the  ache  in  her  heart,  and 
declared  that  the  patches  (mother's  painstaking  work) 
didn't  show  a  bit.  She  had  "never  thought  they  could 
look  so  nice."  And  then  she  practiced  slipping  the  worst 
one  a  little  out  of  sight  in  a  manner  pronounced  by  all 
quite  easy  and  graceful. 

But  the  boys  and  girls  were  every  one  sever-e  critics. 
Poor  Rachel!  She  had  not  thought  it  would  be  so  dif- 
ficult to  wear  only  a  cambric.  And  then  all  the  butterfly 
girls  right  on  the  front  seat,  where  they  must  stare  straiglit 
at  her  feet!  She  stammered  and  hesitated,  and  with  tin- 
last  word  h-ft  the  stage  chagrined  and  disheartened. 

Perhaps  Miss  Moore  saw  something  of  the  need  of  en- 
couragement. At  any  rate,  she  detained  Rachel  with  a 
fe\v  kindly  suggestions  and  some  whispered  words  of 
praise,  while  the  others  rambled  on  ahead. 

"  Isn't  it  too  bad  about  Rachel's  shoes?"  asked  the  tall- 
er girl. 

"Yes.     When  we  had  set  out  to  make  this  exhibition 


AUGUST  14,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


643 


so  perfect,  to  have  one  of  our  best  speakers  wear  such 
shoes!" 

"It  just  spoils  her  speaking-."  added  another,  just  the 
leasl  bit  spitefully,  because  she  had  hoped  to  be  on  the 
programme. 

"  It's  bad  enough  to  have  a  cambric  dress,  but  this  is 
too  much."  groaned  Mabel,  in  a  Lrrieved  tone. 

••Just  too  much."  groaned  the  chorus,  even  Blue-Rib- 
bous  going  with  tin-  majority. 

How  much  of  this  Rachel  heard  nobody  knows. 
Enough,  however,  to  keep  her  outside  the  house  wink- 
ing and  blinking  against  the  tears  which  would  come: 
enough  to  make  her  utter  a  tragic  vow  that  she  would 
never  disgrace  herself  and  the  school  again--  never. 

Every  \\ell  behaved  story  must  have  a  hero.  M.II  know. 
I  wonder  if  it  is  too  late  to  introduce  mine  .'  Tom  Taylor. 
Mabel's  brothel-,  if  you  please,  who  with  his  cronies  had 
formed  the  rear-guard  for  the  group  of  girls.  Perhaps  I 
might  say  that  ill  the  Taylor  family  Tom  was  a  little  at 
di-eotmt.  His  mother  had  to  acknowledge  that  he  never 
yet  had  reflected  credit  on  his  bri Hiring-  up.  Robert,  who 
had  actually  carried  off  a  pi-i/e  at  a  Ilostou  school,  declared 
that  Tom  was  everlastingly  backward.  Il<-  liked  out- 
doors ever  >o  much  better  than  books.  I  really  think  he 
never  was  known  to  get  throii<.rh  :i  recitation,  and  as  for 

stairc  performances,  he  invariably  broke  down  in  din- 

fusion. 

"Say."  In-  began,  when  they  were  safely  within  their 
o\\  n  yard.  "  1  think  you're  awful  mean  to  Rachel." 

"Now.  Tom.  you  don't  know  anything  about  our 
plans." 

"  Bother  your  plans!"  shouted  Tom.  rerkless|\  .  "I  say 
if  jilm/K  make  you  act  so  mean  to  a  jolly  girl  like  Rachel. 
they  ain't  much;"  and  he  frowned  more  liercely  than 
ever. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it.  Tom  Taylor;  so 
there!  We're  always  good  to  Kachie.  Haven't  I  told  her 
dozens  of  times  to  get  all  her  flowers  here ?  And  we  like 
her:  but  we  can't  help  making  a  fuss  over  those  shoes." 

"  What  irood  does  it  do  In  clatter 'bunt  it.'  Ten  to  one 
she'll  hear  it.  (Jet  her  some  shoes." 

"The  perfect  idea!  You'd  better  start  about  shoeing 
poor  people,  Tommy,"  laughed  Mabel,  twisting  her  lips. 

"If  I  do.  won't  get  you  to  help  me.'  answered  Tom, 
gruffly,  as  he  shuffled  ott'  to  bed. 

Between  you  and  me.  Tom  meant  just  what  he  said,  and 
he  never  puzzled  over  any  problem  in  his  algebra  half  so 
hard  as  over  this. 

The  next  morning  Tom,  armed  -with  a  trowel,  and  a 
baskvt  on  his  arm.  tapped  at  Rachel's  door. 

"(iood-niorning,"  lie  began,  as  Rachel  presented  a  sur- 
prised face.  "I  came  to  see  if  I  could  get  some  of  your 
morning-glories.  I  want  some  awfully  bad  to  grow  up 
my  pole." 

"Of  course;  take  all  you  want."  answered  Rachel, 
more  surprised  than  ever,  as  she  thought  of  his  conserva- 
tory and  Mower  beds  at  home.  Perhaps  he  saw  something 
of  the  surprise,  and  so  explained,  knocking  his  trowel 
bashfully  against  his  basket: 

"  1  always  did  like  morning-glories,  and  I've  got  to  have 
em  for  my  pole." 

"I'll  come  with  you,"  said  Rachel,  running  down  the 
steps  toward  the  trellis  where  the  vine  hung  its  clusters  of 
purple  and  pink.  "And  please  take  all  you  want.  I 
suppose  they  may  be  nice  for  a  pole,  but  other  (lowers  are 
prettier,'1  observed  Rachel,  as  he  began  digging. 

"They're  just  the  thing  for  a  pole."  agreed  Tom.  easi- 
ly.    "  There  isn't  another  vine  I  like  so  well,  especially  for 
a  pole." 

And  then,  when  the  vine  was  safely  in  the  basket.  Tom 
drew  some  silver  from  his  pocket,  dumped  it  into  the  hole 
the  vine  had  made,  and  before  Rachel's  astonished  eyes 
began  covering  it  up. 


"Tom  Taylor,  you  shall  not  do  it.  You'll  lose  it.  I 
won't  have  it :"  and  as  he  sei/ed  his  basket  and  started  she 
unearthed  the  money,  and  started  after  him,  shouting 
wildly. 

Tom  was  forced  to  stop.  "I  want  this  vine."  he  an- 
swered, turning  square  around:  "but  if  you  won't  let  me 
pay  for  it  like  business  I  won't  have  it — nary  a  bit  :"  and 
he  put  down  his  basket,  and  looked  very  stern  and  busi- 
ness-like. 

"But,"'  began  Rachel,  quite  awed  by  this  dignity. 

"  Xo  buts  about  it.  I  must  plant  this  'fore  school. 
Good -by;"  and  off  he  ran,  leaving  Rachel  quite  bewil- 
dered. 

At  tirst,  of  course,  she  protested  that  she  wouldn't  keep 
the  money — for  any  thing  she  wouldn't.  But  after  a  family 
council  on  the  matter,  it  ended  in  a  very  joyful  journey 
to  a  certain  store  just  around  the  corner. 

If  Tom  could  have  guessed  the  happiness  which  had 
suddenly  bloomed  from  the  vine  he  was  that  minute  train- 
ing- over  his  pole,  I  wonder  if  he  would  have  called  it  a 
bad  bargain.  Mother  smiled  oil'  the-  anxious  look,  and 
Johnnie,  after  examining  the  leather  critically,  worked  off 
his  ecstasy  by  standing-  on  his  head  a  full  minute. 

If  I  had  time  I  might  tell  you  about  the  "Ex."  They 
were  all  there.  Minnie  with  her  pillows,  and  Johnnie 
with  a  shining  face  and  painfully  slick  hair,  occupying 
a  front  seat. 

No  matter  now  that  the  neat  cambric  was  a  trifle  short, 
for  when  "  Kentucky  Belle"  was  announced  Rachel  forgot 
everything  but  the  beautiful  story. 

Perhaps  you  remember  il  — about  the  young  wife  from 
Tennessee  going  with  her  husband  to  the  prairies  of  Ohio, 
how  she  longs  "  I'm-  I  he  sight  of  water,  the  shadowed  slope 
of  a  hill."  and  about  her  husband  who  goes  to  the  country 
town  to  sell  the  tirst  load  of  hay.  Morgan  and  his  terri- 
ble band  of  raiders  pass  that  way.  She  hides  her  Ken- 
tucky Belle  in  the  bushes,  the  dear  old  horse  brought 
from  the  blue-grass  country  of  Tennessee.  One  of  the  men 
frightens  her  by  stopping  and  demanding  a  drink.  But 
he  is  only  a  blue-eyed  laddie,  worn  and  sick  with  the  ter- 
rible marches.  He  tries  to  be  brave,  but  when  she-  tells 
him  she  too  is  from  Tennessee,  he  faints  and  falls.  Be- 
fore he  is  conscious  Morgan's  men  are  galloping  on.  and 
the  Michigan  cavalry  in  wild  pursuit.  She  keeps  the  boy 
until  evening',  and  then — can  you  believe  it? — brings  out 
her  pretty  Kentucky  Belle,  clothes  the  boy  in  a  suit  of 
Conrad's,  and  guides  him  to  the  southward.  When  he  is 
gone,  and  nothing  is  left  but  the  ragged  suit  of  gray 
and  the  drooping-  horse,  she  falls  to  crying,  and  Conrad 
finds  her  so.  How  could  he  blame  her  when  she  says  it 
is  all  for  Tennessee?  But  she  hears  from  the  boy  she 
has  saved,  and  Kentucky  Belle,  who  is  thriving  down  in 
the  old  blue-grass. 

As  the  story  was  told  in  Rachel's  sweet  sympathetic 
voice,  the  audience  grew  more  and  more  quiet  until,  with 
the  last  words. 

••  All,  we've  had  many  Imr.-i'S,  hut  never  a  horse  like  her!" 

they  burst  forth  with  the  most  uproarious  clapping  you 
ever  heard.  As  for  Johnnie,  he  came  very  near  one  of  his 
prize  somersaults,  and  Tom — Tom  clapped  as  if  he  had  an 
undisputed  right  to. 

This  was  what  Rachel  said  when  she  had  survived  the 
congratulations  and  was  safely  home: 

"How  little  Tom  Taylor  knew  what  he  did  for  me!" 

"I  had  to  laugh  to  think  how  surprised  he  would  have 
been  to  know  about  your  shoes  coming  from  his  vine." 
added  Minnie,  smiling. 

When  Tom  had  demurely  listened  to  Rachel's  praises 
at  home  that  night  he  just  pranced  off  to  his  room,  where 
he  could  chuckle  it  out  by  himself,  and  declare  in  the  fare 
of  the  mirror,  "Thomas,  that's  a  joke  worth  havin' — eh, 
my  boy  ?'' 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  SWALLOW  Hitting  through  the  trees 
Carols  this  song  upon  the  breeze: 
Here  on  the  leafy  apple  bough 

Two  little  maidens  swing  all  day. 
The  face  of  one  is  clouded  now ; 

A  moment  since  it  laughed  in  play. 
The  other  smiles ;    I  wonder  why 
She  does  not  also  grieve  and  cry? 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.4 

BY     MRS.    W.    J.    HA.YS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  PRISCESS  IDLEWAYS,"  "  PHIL'S  FAIRIES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

KNOPS  now  led  Leo  through  so  many  places  full  of 
machines  and  contrivances  which  the  water-power 
kept  active  that  he  was  glad  when  they  went  up  a  long 
inclined  plane,  and  came  out  into  a  wide  gallery  lined 
with  mother-of-pearl,  and  paved  with  exquisite  sea-shells. 

Here  was  a  luxurious  couch  of  beautiful  feathers,  the 
plumage  of  birds  he  had  never  beheld,  and  he  was  not  sor- 
ry to  see  Paz  bringing  out  another  dozen  of  tarts  for  his 
refreshment.  As  he  ate  them  he  asked  of  Knops,  who  was 
peeling  a  lime,  "  Have  you  no  women  and  children  among 
your  elves  3" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Knops,  smiling;  "but  they  are  not  to  be 
found  near  our  workshops.1' 

"  Where,  then,  do  they  live  ?" 

Knops  put  on  an  air  of  mystery  as  he  replied:  "  I  am 
not  permitted  to  reveal  everything  concerning  us,  dear 
Leo.  Our  private  life  is  of  110  public  interest ;  but  I  may  tell 
you  that  our  children  are  bred  entirely  in  the  open  air. 
Many  an  empty  bird's  nest  is  used  as  an  elf  cradle,  for  so 
highly  do  we  esteem  pure  air,  sunshine,  and  exposure  as  a 
means  of  making  our  children  hardy  that  we  even  accus- 
tom them  to  danger,  and  let  them,  like  the  birds,  face  the 
fury  of  the  weather." 

"  And  do  they  all  work  as  you  do  ?" 

' '  They  do,  not  at  the  same  employments,  nor  is  all  our  la- 
bor done  by  hand,  as  you  might  suppose.  The  songs  which 
you  hear  are  not  all  sung  by  birds  or  insects,  the  crying 
child  has  often  a  pretty  tale  whispered  in  his  ear  to  soothe 
his  grief  or  passion,  and  your  garden  roses  are  witness  to 
many  a  worm  in  the  bud  choked  by  the  hand  of  an  elf. 
But  we  have  many  tribes,  and  the  habits  of  each  are 


*  Begun  in  No.  195  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


different.  I  do  not  conceal  that  much  trouble  is  made 
by  some  of  them.  But  look  at  the  Indians  of  North 
America  and  the  Afghanistan  of  Asia." 

Leo  was  yawning  again  fearfully,  when  a  little 
"turn,  turn,  turn,"  came  to  his  ears,  and  as  Knops  ceased 
speaking  a  band  of  elves,  habited  as  troubadours  in  blue 
and  silver,  with  long  white  plumes  in  their  velvet  caps, 
climbed  over  the  balustrade  and  began  to  play  on  zithers. 
The  music  was  a  gentle  tinkle,  not  unlike  a  rippling 
brook,  and  appeared  to  be  in  honor  of  Master  Knops, 
who  listened  with  pleased  attention,  and  dismissed  them  | 
politely. 

Then  came  a  message  for  Knops.  A  council  was  wait- 
ing his  presence;  so,  leaving  Leo  to  Paz,  with  promise 
of  a  speedy  return,  he  departed. 

"How  do  you  get  about  so  fast  i"  asked  Leo.     Paz 
took  from  his  pocket  a  tiny  pipe  curiously  carved  from 
a  nut;  then  he  opened  a  small  ivory  box,  showing  Leo    j 
a  wad  of  something  which  looked  like  raw  cotton  sprin- 
kled with  black  seeds. 

"  One  whiff  of  this,  as  it  burns  in  my  pipe,  and  I  can    j 
wish  myself  where  I  please." 

"Let  me  have  a  try,"  said  Leo,  taking  up  the  pipe. 
Paz  smiled.      "It  would  have  no  more  effect  upon 
you  than  so  much  tobacco — not  as  much,  probably,  for 
tobacco  makes  you  deathly  sick,  does  it  not  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Leo,  listlessly,  disappointed  that  he  could    ; 
not  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  by  magic. 

Paz  noticed  the  disappointment,  and  said,  by  way  of 
diversion,  "Where  do  you  like  best  to  be  ?" 

"At  home  I  like  the  kitchen,"  said  Leo,  with  a  little   j 
shrug. 

' '  Good !  Come,  then,  to  one  of  ours :  we  can  be  back 
by  the  time  Master  Knops  returns."  So  saying,  he  started 
off,  and  Leo  followed. 

Paz  trotted  down  a  winding  staircase  that  made  Leo 
feel  as  if  he  were  a  corkscrew,  and  in  a  little  while  usher- 
•d  him  into  a  place  where  jets  of  gas  gave  a  garden-like 
effect,  sprouting  as  they  did  from  solid  rock  in  the  form 
of  tulips  and  tiger-lilies,  but  over  each  was  a  wire  netting, 
and  from  the  netting  were  suspended  shining  little  copper 
kettles  and  pans  of  all  sorts  and  shapes. 

Busily  bending  over  these  was  a  regiment  of  cooks,  but 
instead  of  paper  caps  011  their  heads,  each  wore  a  white 
bonnet  of  ludicrous  form,  which  they  could  tip  over  so  as 
to  shield  their  faces  from  the  heat.  It  gave  them  a  top- 
heavy  appearance  which  was  extremely  funny. 

In  the  centre  of  the  kitchen  was  a  long  table,  before 
which  were  seated  a  number  of  elves  tasting  each  com- 
pound to  see  if  it  were  properly  prepared,  and  examining 
the  cooked  dishes  as  they  were  brought  in  that  all  should 
be  served  rightly. 

"I  had  an  idea,"  said  Leo,  "  that  elves  and  fairies  lived 
on  rose  leaves  and  honey,  and  that  you  never  had  to  have 
things  cooked." 

"  The  truth  is,"  answered  Paz,  "we  do  both;  it  all  de- 
pends on  what  are  our  employments,  whether  we  are  liv- 
ing in  the  wild  wood  or  down  in  these  caverns.  I  would 
ask  nothing  better  than  to  dine  off  honeysuckle  and  a 
bird's  egg,  or  fill  my  pockets  with  gooseberries;  but  I  must 
adapt  myself  to  circumstances,  and  while  toiling  here  have 
to  share  the  more  solid  food  provided  for  us."  As  he  said 
this  he  handed  Leo  a  pudding  of  about  three  inches  in  the 
round,  iced  on  the  top. 

Leo  swallowed  it  down  with  such  zest  that  Paz  asked 
him  to  dispense  with  ceremony,  and  help  himself  to  any- 
thing he  saw.  The  tasting-table  was  full  of  puffs  and 
tarts,  and  in  a  twinkling  Leo  had  eaten  two  or  three  dozen 
of  thorn.  They  were  really  so  light  and  frothy  that  they 
were  hardly  equal  to  an  ounce  of  lollypops  such  as  an  or- 
dinary child  could  devour,  but  Paz  cautioned  him,  telling 
him  that  the  sweet  was  so  concentrated  he  might  have  a 
headache. 


AUGUST   14,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


645 


While  he  was  doing:  this  Leo  watched  with  interest  the 
bringing'  in  of  some  squr-rels  and  rabbits  skinned  and 
ready  to  be  roasted.  It  took  six  elves  to  bear  the  weight 
of  an  ordinary  meat  ilis'n  on  which  these  were;  then  they 
trussed  and  skewered  them,  and  put  them  in  small  ovens. 

"  How  do  you  kill  your  game  :"  asked  Leo. 

"We  trap  everything,  and  then  have  a  mode  of  kill- 
ing the  creatures  which  is  entirely  painless." 

By  this  time  Knops  would  have  returned,  so  Paz  hur- 
ried Leo  off.  not.  however,  without  first  filling  his  pockets 
witli  goodies.  Up  they  clambered  until  it  seemed  as  if 
they  might  reach  the  stars  by  going  a  little  farther,  and 
now  Leu  was  really  so  tired  that  when  he  sank  down  on 
tin'  feathery  couch  in  the  sea  shell  corridor  he  was  asleep 
before  he  eon  Id  explain  to  Knops  the  cause  of  his  absence. 

He  must  have  slept  a  very  long  while—a  time  quite 
equal  to  an  ordinary  night,  if  not  longer  -for  when  he 
awoke  he  was  thoroughly  rested  and  refreshed,  anil  ready 
for  any  exertion  lie  might  be  called  upon  to  make;  but  he 
found  himself  entirely  alone. 

At  first  this  did  not  att'ect  him,  for  he  supposed  his  ellin 
friends  had  taken  the  opportunity  to  rest  themselves,  but 
after  minutes  lengthened  into  hours  be  began  to  be  uneasy. 
What  should  he  do  if  they  never  came  back  '.  How 
would  he  ever  tind  his  way  out  of  these  caverns?  The 
thought  was  frightful,  and  to  relieve  his  fears  lie  began  to 
call.  His  calls  became  shouts,  yel Is,  and  yet  no  answer 
came;  nothing  but  echoes  responded. 

CHAPTER  VI 11. 

AFTER  a  long  and   impatient   listening   the  eel s   of 

Leo's   calls   .seemed   to   prolong  themxcKex   into    musical 
strains,    which,    faint     and 
far  away  at  tirsl,  gradually 
came  nearer  and  nearer. 

Soft  as  the  sighing  of 
the  wind  was  this  ellin  mu- 
sic, but  swelling  into  mim- 
ic bursts  of  harmony  anil 
clashing  of  .small  cymbals. 

Leo  leaned  over  the  bal- 
ust  rade  of  the  corridor,  and 
gazed  down  into  the  depths 
of  a  cavernous  abyss.  In- 
stantly the  space  seemed 
filled  with  sprites  in  every 
conceivable  attire.  Some 
were  dressed  in  the  par- 
ty-colored habits  of  court 
pages,  some  in  royal  robes 
of  ermine,  others  as  shep- 
herds with  crooks,  and 
again  others  as  cherubs 
with  gauzy  wings;  but  all 
were  whirling  like  snow- 
llakes  to  the  strains  of  the 
music. 

Leo  looked  in  vain  for 
Paz  or  Knops.  Indeed,  so 
many  were  the  fantastic 
forms,  and  so  rapidly  did 
they  move,  that  it  was  like 
watching  a  snow-storm, 
and  this  effect  was  height- 
ened by  misty  wreaths, 
upon  which  were  borne 
:iloft  the  more  rail lani  mem- 
bers, who  danced  and  flash- 
ed as  heat  lightning  on  the  clouds  of  a  summer's  night. 
The  light,  instead  of  being  a  bright  glare,  was  soft  and 
mellow,  and  fell  from  crescent  -  shaped  lanterns  on  the 
staffs  of  pages,  who  moved  in  a  measured  way  among  the 
throng,  producing  a  kaleidoscopic  effect. 


Leo  watched  them  with  eager  eyes.  Beautiful  as  the 
sight  was,  he  yet  was  oppressed  with  fear,  for  he  knew  not 
how  to  reveal  himself  to  these  sportive  beings,  and  he 
could  not  imagine  how  he  should  ever  be  released  from 
his  imprisonment. 

Suddenly  the  dancers  fled  as  if  pursued,  the  music  be- 
came martial,  and  the  steady  tramp  of  a  host  of  elves  was 
heard.  They  were  clad  in  mail,  with  helmets  and  shields 
of  flashing  steel,  and  armed  with  glittering  lances;  half 
of  them  had  blue  plumes  and  half  had  crimson.  And  now 
began  their  mimic  warfare.  Ranged  line  upon  line,  fa- 
cing each  other,  with  shouts  and  drum  beats  and  bugle 
blasts,  they  fell  upon  each  other  in  the  fury  of  combat. 
Swords  clashed,  javelins  were  hurled,  and  the  slain  fell  in 
heaps;  but  still  the  leaders  charged,  and  still  the  martial 
blasts  were  heard;  and  over  and  over  were  repeated  the 
manoeuvres  of  the  advance,  the  retreat,  the  parrying  of 
blows,  the  redoubled  ardor  of  assault,  until  Leo's  breath 
came  short  and  hard  with  the  excitement  of  the  scene. 
It  seemed  a  veritable  battle-field,  and  to  add  to  the  glamour 
shone  rays  as  of  moonbeams,  now  and  again  clouded  by 
the  shadows  of  an  approaching  storm. 

( iradually  the  rage  of  the  combatants  subsided.  Those 
uho  were  able  withdrew  with  those  of  their  companions 
who  were  disabled,  leaving  the  prostrate  forms  of  the  dead 
and  dying. 

And  now  the  music  portrayed  the  rising  of  the  wind, 
the  falling  of  rain,  the  roar  of  thunder.  This  was  suc- 
ceeded by  low  plaintive  strains,  as  of  people  weeping,  and 
a  party  of  elves  in  the  garb  of  monks  headed  a  procession 
bearing  lighted  tapers  and  carrying  biers,  upon  which  they 
placed  the  inanimate  forms  of  the  warriors.  Slowly  they 


'THE    MUSIC    WAS    A    GENTLE    TINKLE." 


paced  about,  chanting  in  low  tones,  and  constantly  accom- 
panied by  the  funeral  dirge  of  the  musicians. 

And  now  to  Leo's  almost  overtaxed  vision  came  a  pic- 
ture of  a  lonely  grave-yard  in  the  mountains,  where  the 
procession  stopped.  Even  as  he  looked  it  faded  away ;  the 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


sun  streamed  forth,  shining  upon  a  field  of  grain  where 
merry -reapers  swung  their  scythes  and  sang-  with  glee. 
Trees  sprouted  from  fissures  in  the  rock,  birds  flew  about 
and  perched  undismayed,  and  little  hay-carts,  piled  high 
with  their  loads,  came  creaking  along,  led  by  peasant  elves, 
who  were  also  seated  on  top  of  their  fragrant  heaps  of  hay. 
Then  the  sun  beamed  upon  a  party  of  drovers — elves  in 
smock-frocks  or  blouses,  driving  flocks  of  sheep  and  horn- 
ed cattle,  while  the  bleating  of  the  sheep  and  the  lowing 
of  the  cattle  were  well  imitated  by  the  music.  All  this  was 
succeeded  by  vineyards,  grape  trellises,  and  arbors,  with 
busy  elves  gathering  the  fruit  which  hung  in  purple  clus- 
ters, and  beneath  the  arbors  other  elves  rattling  castanets, 
beating  tambourines,  and  dancing. 

Again  the  scene  changed.  Snow  fell ;  the  birds  disap- 
peared ;  the  tree  boughs  were  glittering  with  ice,  and  were 
bending  over  a  wide  field  of  the  same  glassy  substance. 
On  it  were  elves  in  bright  costumes,  merrily  skating.  They 
glided  about,  cutting  curious  figures,  pausing  to  bend  and 
bow  to  each  other,  or  to  warm  themselves  at  bonfires  blaz- 
ing on  the  banks. 

Then  night  came  again,  and  the  darkness  was  only 
broken  by  twinkling  stars.  The  music  became  softer  and 
more  plaintive;  it  sounded  like  little  flutes. 

A  church  tower  loomed  up,  and  then  a  blaze  of  light 
issued  from  its  arched  doors.  Two  by  two,  in  white  array, 
came  forth  the  elves,  and  from  the  floating  veils  Leo  saw 
that  it  was  meant  to  represent  a  bridal  procession.  Gar- 
lands were  on  their  arms,  and  ribbons  fluttered  from  their 
caps.  Roses  were  strewn  in  their  path. 

Again  these  were  followed  by  a  company  of  elves  in  the 
habit  of  nuns  and  Sisters  of  Charity.  The  music  became 
a  hymn.  The  church  grew  dark  and  vanished.  The 
space  filled  again  with  shadowy  forms,  as  if  all  the  little 
actors  had  poured  in.  The  sound  of  their  coming  was 
like  that  of  a  bevy  of  birds  with  wings  fluttering.  Sud- 
denly a  starry  cross  appeared;  it  flashed  and  flamed  with 
a  light  which  was  as  if  it  were  composed  of  myriads  of 
gems,  and  then  a  clear  radiance  streamed  from  it,  reveal- 
ing the  whole  multitude  of  elves  kneeling  in  devotion. 
Tli  is  lasted  but  a  few  moments,  and  again  all  was  still 
and  dark,  and  Leo  was  alone. 

But  he  was  no  longer  afraid.  His  mind  was  filled  with 
the  beautiful  scenes  he  had  witnessed,  his  imagination 
stirred  to  activity.  Why  might  he  not  behold  these 
1 1 1 1 1  igs  again  as  a  reality,  instead  of  only  a  semblance  of  it  ? 
How  grand  it  would  be  to  travel  and  see  novel  and  beauti- 
ful sights,  to  learn  also  wonderful  things !  And  as  he  qui- 
etly thought,  he  heard  the  click,  click  of  little  boots,  and 
Knops  was  beside  him,  followed  by  Paz.  Leo  greeted 
them  warmly. 

"Did  you  suppose  that  we  had  deserted  you  {"  asked 
Knops,  sitting  down  on  the  couch  by  his  side  as  if  ex- 
hausted. 

''Yes,  I  was  a  little  alarmed;  it  was  so  strange  to  find 
myself  alone  in  such  a  place,  for  of  course  I  Jiad  no  idea 
which  way  to  turn  or  what  to  do." 

"  You  were  so  soundly  asleep  that  I  had  not  the  cruelty 
to  disturb  you,  and  it  was  necessary  for  Paz  to  go  with  me. 
From  what  you  have  witnessed  you  may  guess  how  we 
have  been  employed  and  how  much  we  have  had  to  de- 
tain us;  but  you  may  rest  assured  that  nothing  would 
keep  me  from  finishing  what  I  have  undertaken.  You 
have  now  had  a  Vision  of  Life  and  a  Vision  of  Labor,  for 
such  I  call  our  two  pantomimes.  Am  I  wrong  in  sup- 
posing that  they  have  pleased  you  ?'' 

"No,  indeed, "said  Leo,  quickly,  his  usual  drawl  giving 
place  to  a  tone  of  bright  animation.  "I  thank  you  .-i 
thousand  times  for  your  entertainment  and  instruction. 
I  have  been  so  pleased  and  delighted  that  I  can  hardly 
express  myself  as  I  ought  to  do.  I  am  afraid  I  seem  a  very 
good-for-nothing  fellow  to  you." 

Indeed  you  do  not.     Don't  suppose  I  would  waste  time 


on  a  good-for-naught.  Paz  can  tell  you  what  attracted 
me  to  you — can't  you,  Paz  :" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  Prince  Leo's  kindness  of  heart  is  the 
secret  of  his  power  with  us." 

Leo  blushed  as  he  looked  up  and  asked,  "  How  did  you 
know  I  was  soft-hearted  'i" 

"By  your  kindness  to  animals  and  all  living  things. 
Ah !  we  are  close  observers,  are  we  not,  Paz  ?" 

"  Necessarily,  Master  Professor." 

"  Our  powers  of  observation  have  revealed  to  us  many 
of  the  mysteries  which  man  longs  to  solve.  There's  the 
Gulf  Stream,  for  instance.  But  you  are  not  up  in  science 
yet.  No  matter.  You  have  time  enough  before  you  if 
you  will  only  apply  yourself.  Has  anything  you  have 
seen  made  you  anxious  to  know  more  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  mention  it!" exclaimed  Leo.  "I  am  so  aw- 
fully ashamed  of  my  ignorance  that  I  would  do  anything 
to  get  rid  of  it.  I  want  to  know  all  about  those  curious 
things." 

"Good !  the  seed  is  sown,  Paz,"  said  Knops,  complacent- 
ly, with  the  nearest  approach  to  a  wink  Leo  had  seen  on 
his  grave  little  countenance.  "  Now  you  must  rest  again 
before  we  start  for  home." 

Leo  would  have  been  very  willing  to  do  without  more 
rest,  remembering  his  alarm,  but  he  could  not  be  so  self- 
ish as  to  deprive  his  companion  of  it ;  so  he  at  once  assent- 
ed, tempted  to  ask  only  that  he  might  not  be  left  quite  so 
long  again  alone.  But  fearing  this  would  imply  distrust, 
and  being  really  no  coward,  he  said  nothing.  He  was  re- 
lieved, however,  to  hear  Knops  command  Paz  to  remain 
with  him. 

[TO   BE    CONTINUED.] 


THE  SEA-SHELL. 

BY  PALMER  COX. 

COME,  old  conch  shell,  tell  tn  me 
All  you  know  about  the  sea. 

Is  the  bottom  bright  with  gold? 
Does  the  whale  his  baby  scold? 
AVhere  do  mermaids  ever  go 
For  their  combs.  Id  like  to  know? 
Do  the  little  fish  agree? 
(.'an  they  say  their  A  B  C? 
Are  they  never  tired  out, 
Swimming,  swimming  all  :fbout? 
Don't  they  often  try  their  be-t 
On  the  land  to  come  and  rest? 
Seems  to  me  the  little  elves 
Have  no  chance  to  dry  themselves. 
Do  the  sailors  really  see 
Serpents  larger  than  a  tree? 

I  will  listen  while  you  tell 
All  about  it,  conchy  shell. 


<>\E  YEAR  OF  PIANO  STUDY. 

BY  LUCY  C.  LILLIE. 

ONE  day  a  group  of  girls  in  a  foreign  conservatory  sat 
down  to  discuss  what  music  they  liked  best;  and  as, 
with  one  exception,  all  were  Americans  recently  entered 

at  B .the  preference  was  for  operatic  music — with,  of 

course,  some  Beethoven,  and  a  little  Mendelssohn. 

Evidently  their  musical  education  had  been  of  the  or- 
dinary sort.  They  had  studied  compositions  selected  with 
no  view  to  progress,  mid  with  no  systematic  idea  of  tin- 
right  sort  of  cultivation;  and  yet  all  were  tolerably  good 
performers;  that  is,  their  facility  had  just  i  lied  them  in 
coming  abroad  to  study  in  a  regular  musical  school. 

A  year  later  any  one  of  the  group  would  have  been  sur- 
prised had  she  been  reminded  of  the  opinions  expressed 
by  her  that  day.  System  had  stepped  in.  with  the  slow 
but  sure  culture  of  hearing  only  the  very  best  music.  If 
you  were  studying  astronomy  or  chemistry  would  it  occur 


.vn;rsT  H,  isss. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


647 


to  you  that  you  could  by  any  chance  profit  by  mixing 
up  all  the  chapters  of  your  text-books,  taking  up  any  part 
at  any  time,  and  giving  the  end  the  first  place  in  your 
mind  ;  I  am  sure  il  would  not.  yet  NO  few  young1  people 
studying  music  stop  i,,  consider  the  necessity  of  avoiding 
just  such  a  jumble,  that  ill  this  little  paper  1  want  to  talk 
about  certain  arrangements  for  musical  practice  which  I 
have  seen  \\ork  very  well. 

To  beij-in  with,  remember  that  every  half-hour,  every 
ten  minutes,  you  can  give  to  your  piano  is  valuable,  if  used 
in  the  right  way.  Five  minutes  at  a  time  is  profitable; 
and.  on  the  other  hand,  every  moment  wasted  in  stupid, 
careless  playing-  is  a  direct  injury.  ( )f  course,  even  in 
our  severest  studies,  we  like  to  be  amused,  and  one  a  I  u  a  \  -, 

can  be  amused  at  the  pia -\cepl  \\hen  one  is  playing 

finger  exercises,  over  which  you  can  at  least  be  interested. 

Supposing  you  have  learned  enough  to  read  simple  mu- 
sic; you  are  practicing  linger  exercises  and  a  little  of 
C/erny.  we  will  say  an  hour  daily.  Then  Schumann's 
Kinderscenen  would  come  in  admirably,  and  some  of  the 
tirst  Sonatas  of  Mozart.  Suppose  that  for  two  months  you 

devoted  yourself  absolutely  to  these  two  composers  in 
their  simplest  works;  theresnll  would  be  a  certain  compre 
liension  of  their  respective  sUles  which  would  carry  you 
on  wonderfully  when  yon  came  to  study  their  larger  works. 
Kvery  composer  has  his  peculiarities,  a  knowledge  of 
which  one  iiiin-ht.  as  it  wen-,  to  absorb  by  long  study  of 
some  one  or  two  works.  Two  months  later  Mendelssohn's 
"  Songs  without  Words,"  carefully  chosen,  andsome  fugues 

and  gavottes  of  liach's.  would  follow  very  well,  while  a 
short  time  might  be  given  to  practicing1  what  had  gone  be- 
fore. Three  months  of  such  work  u  on  hi  open  the  way  to 
Beethoven.  Perhaps  the  "Sonata  l'atlie|ii|iie."  although 
really  one  of  the  most  difficult,  is  the  most  interest  MIL;'  to 
young-  people ;  but  unless  a  decided  improvement  has  taken 

place  I  would  suggest  only  trying  some  portions  of  the 
simpler  sonatas,  and  the  shorter  pieces,  like  the  waltzes. 
This  would  afford  musical  study  enough  for  the  \  ear.  ami 
if  taken  slowly  and  carefully,  the  result  would  be.  I  am 
Sure,  intensely  satisfactory. 

A  very  interesting  thing  to  have  is  a  musical  diary,  in 
which  one  records  each  day  what  was  practiced  or  learn- 
ed, with  comments  on  the  composer's  style,  any  pecul 
iar  formation  of  chords  or  arrangement  of  notes,  and 
any  portions  thought  most  dilliciilt.  You  have  no  idea 
how  such  a  book  marks  one's  progress,  ami  how  interest  ing 
it  becomes  to  look  back  upon,  (ilaucingat  such  a  one 
the  other  day,  I  was  greatly  amused  and  interested  in  not 
ing  how  dilliculties  which  in  .January  seemed  insurmount- 
able had  vanished  by  May.  At  the  end  of  each  month  it 
is  well  to  sum  up  the  results,  and  note  what  has  been  ac- 
complished. Perhaps  a  quotation  from  such  a  diary  may 
serve  best  to  illustrate  the  idea: 

"February  1. — Practiced  an  hour  to-day  on  Czerny, 
and  half  an  hour's  Plaidy.  Then  tried  Mozart's  Minuet, 
hoping-  to  malte  the  staccato  parts  less  heavy.  Hunted 
out  some  bits  of  my  exercises  just  for  this  purpose,  and 
after  ten  minutes  found  I  could  go  back  to  the  Minuet 
much  better.  Read  some  Haydn. 

"  February  '2. — Usual  exercise  practice  and  the  Minuet, 
with  Schumann's  'Slumber  Song.'  Noticed  the  peculiari- 
ties in  the  bars,  and  how  very  necessary  it  is  to  make  the 
left  hand  play  smoothly.  Worked  ten  minutes  extra  on 
left  -  hand  finger  exercises.  Found  it  all  hard  work. 
Went  to  one  of  Von  Billow's  concerts  in  the  evening,  and 
returned  wondering  if  I  could  ever  accomplish  anything. 
Was  delighted  to  hear  that  he  practices  finger  exercises  an 
hour  a  day.  He  played  Beethoven's  '  Sonata  Appassion- 
ata,'  and  fairly  rushed  it.  I  heard  that  Beethoven  com- 
posed that  during  a  terrible  thunder-storm,  and  Miss  — 
says  no  one  can  play  it  like  Liszt,  and  that  when  Rubin- 
stein plays  it  he  alters  little  bits  here  and  there,  differently 
each  time,  just  to  suit  his  mood.  I  heard  Madame  Essipotf 


play  it,  and  she  takes  a  great  deal  of  it  very  tenderly.  Von 
Biilow  is  more  tremendous  over  it. 

••  l-'i'lu-iiiirtj  3.—  Tried  to  read  the  •  Appassionata'  with 
Miss  -  — .  Too  much  for  me,  but  it  gave  me  an  idea  of 
the  majesty  of  the  whole  tiling.  In  practicing  Mendels- 
sohn's 'Spring  Song'  I  suddenly  caught  at  the  arpeggio  in 
the  bars,  and  found  out  how  to  do  it.  I  believe  he  wrote 
the  'Spring  Song'  for  one  of  his  sister's  festive  occasions. 
When  Moscheles  went  for  the  first  time  after  Mendels- 
sohn's death  to  see  his  wife.  C'ecile.  he  played  the  '  Spring 
Song'  for  her.  and  it  1  trough t  back  to  them  both  all  their 
tenderest  memories,  so  that  it  must  have  been  most  dear  to 
him. 

1  /•':  limn ri/  ('.. — Miss  II spent  two  hours  here  to- 
day, ami  pla\ed  all  sorts  of  things.  She  has  just  come 
home  from  four  years'  musical  study  abroad,  chiefly 
in  Dresden  and  Berlin.  She  showed  me  how  IVppe 
teaches  his  pupils  to  hold  their  fingers,  to  curve  the 
hand  always  slightly  out  \\ard.  and  sink  the  knuckle  part 
a  little.  She  did  some  exercises  very  well,  but  her  man 
ner  was  very  much  too  languid.  I  hear  that  she  really 
has  no  musical  instinct.  It  is  all  study,  and  so  it  seems 
uaste  of  time.  She  described  Lis/.t's  manner  very  enter- 
tainingly. He  is  never  twice  ignite  alike,  sometimes  satiric- 
al, sometimes  pla\  fill  ;  but  she  sa  \  s  his  playing  can  never 
be  described.  Il  is  simply  perfect .  especially  ill  all  legato 
passages.  She  used  to  see  Tausig  very  often,  and  said, 
that  except  I  js/.t.  he  was  (lie  most,  wonderful  plaver  she 
ever  heard:  but  such  an  eccentric  creature — like  some 

half  t: '< I  thing,  quite  elfish !      He  died  very  young,  and 

was  a  great   loss  to  the  musical  world." 

These  ^notations  from  a  young  girl's  diary,  which,  as 
yon  see.  was  concerned  only  with  musical  matters,  will 
perhaps  show  you  what  might  he  done  in  this  way,  and  I 
am  very  sure  such  a  diary  adds  greatly  to  the  interest 
of  musical  study.  From  one  of  the  monthly  "summings 
up"  I  will  quote  a  passage: 

"  Mai/  ;!1.  --Tliis  month  I  feel  I  have  accomplished  no- 
thing in  the  way  of  expression,  but  a  great  deal  in  over- 
coming certain  difficulties.  I  play  the  E  minor  scale 
really  to  my  satisfaction,  and  the  close  of  the  andante  in 
Mendelssohn's  '  Rondo  ( 'appricioso'  I  can  at  least  execute 
tolerably.  1  have  made  a  study  of  musical  terms,  writ- 
ing them  all  down  with  definitions." 

At  the  end  of  the  year  the  diarist  put  down  a  list  of 
what  she  had  learned,  and  what  concerts  she  had  attend- 
ed, and  in  a  companion  book  the  programmes  of  the  con- 
certs, with  photographs  of  the  performers.  There  was  no 
literary  merit  in  that  little  book,  but  I  can  safely  say  it 
carried  her  over  dull  places,  and  now  suggests  many  ail 
hour  of  work  made  fascinating  instead  of  prosaic.  The 
romantic  element  in  musical  study  can  be  carried  to  a 
very  ridiculous  extreme,  yet  it  may  safely  be  allowed  to 
tinge  one's  labors,  for  no  art  possesses  such  a  field  for  po- 
etic, romantic  aspirations. 

I  would  not  for  worlds  suggest  to  my  young  readers 
to  follow  the  example  of  a  young  person  of  twelve  whom 
I  once  knew,  and  who  went  through  a  whole  year  of 
very  commonplace  musical  study,  pretending  to  herself  she 
was  in  Vienna  studying  at  a  conservatory,  and  a  pro- 
tegee of  a  famous  master,  giving  concerts,  and  being 

treated  as  a  prodigy.      Little  Miss  K ,  who,  as  you  see, 

had  a  most  vivid  imagination,  used  to  take  her  lessons 
with  her  little  head  full  of  these  fancied  scenes,  and  on 
leaving  her  teacher's  house  would  walk  home  with  a 
servant,  still  assuming  to  herself  she  was  in  Vienna, 
the  observed  of  all  observers.  No  profit  came  of  all  this 
to  her  playing,  as  you  may  easily  believe,  for  in  her 
case  the  ardor  all  went  to  the  imaginary  side,  and  the 
necessity  of  real  work  did  not  occur  to  her.  It  is  well 
for  young  students  to  feel  the  poetry  and  loftiness  of  the 
art  they  are  pursuing,  but  they  should  at  the  same  time 
avoid  eccentric  vagaries. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HAVING   HIS    HAIR   CUT. 


IN  THE  OLD  ORCHARD. 

BY  ADA  C.  STODDARD. 

LAST  summer  Hal  and  I  went  out  to  Grandfather  Cot- 
ton's farm  for  a  good  long  vacation.  You  see,  the 
scarlet  fever  got  around  our  town,  and  mother  was  afraid 
we  would  catch  it. 

"She  said  we'd  be  sure  to,"  Hal  told  Grandfather  Cot- 
ton, who  was  waiting  for  us  at  the  station.  "  We're  all 
the  time  catching  things  we've  no  business  to." 

Graiulfathjer  Cotton  laughed,  and  tumbled  us  into  his  big 
express  wagon  without  any  ceremony.  He's  a  jolly  old 
gentleman,  with  a  round  face  and  gray  whiskers.  I  wish 
yi  H  i  could  see  him  and  hear  him  laugh.  Hal  says  he  looks 
just  like  the  pictures  of  Santa  Clans. 

"Ever  catch  any  whippings  'long  with  everything 
else?"  he  asked,  twinkling  his  eyes  at  vis.  "Well,  you 
can  try  your  hand  at  catching  tish  up  at  the  farm.  The 
farm's  a  good  place  for  boys — a  pretty  good  plaee." 

It  wa's  all  of  that,  and  no  mistake.  I  don't  believe 
there  is  another  such  place  for  having  all  sorts  of  jolly 
good  times  in  the  world  as  that  old  side-hill  farm.  Tin- 
house  itself  seemed  made  just  for  playing  hide-and-seek 


in.  It  was  a  very  small  house  when  Great- 
great-grandfather  Cotton  built  it.  but  it's 
been  added  to,  piece  by  piece,  a  bit  here 
and  a  bit  there,  until  it  wouldn't  know  it- 
self— that's  what  Grandfather  Cotton  says. 
Anyhow,  now  it's  a  great  rambling  old  ark, 
witli  all  sorts  of  odd  corners  in  it.  and  turns 
and  twists  when  you  aren't  looking  for 
'em.  It's  a  high  old  place  for  rainy  days. 
There  isn't  any  upstairs  to  it  hardly.  Hal 
said  he  felt  just  like  Christopher  Colum- 
bus, when  lie  was  going  to  discover  Ameri- 
ca, that  first  afternoon  we  went  over  it. 

"It's  just  like  a  Jill -run -over- the- 
ground,"  said  he.  "But  isn't  it  glorifer- 
ous  ?" 

You  may  believe  I  wouldn't  dispute  that. 
It  was  pretty  as  a  picture,  too,  to  look  at — 
that  old  red  farm-house  resting  like  a  sleepy 
giant  half-way  up  the  hill,  which  trailed 
long  skirts  of  grass  and  grain  quite  to  the 
edge  of  the  tumbling  sparkling  little  river 
in  the  hollow  below. 

Then  there  were  the  two  great  barns,  and 
the  orchards.  And  you  never  ate  such 
doughnuts  and  turn -overs  and  pound-cakes 
as  Aunt  Hannah  Cotton  made.  She  wasn't 
scrimping  with  'em,  either;  that  was  the 
best  of  it.  There  was  always  something 
new  turning  up  for  us  to  do,  too.  One  day 
it  was  a  ride  to  the  village  to  do  trading 
with  Uncle  Zadok;  and  the  next,  maybe, 
grandfather  would  take  us  sailing  down 
the  river  to  see  Deacon  Seavey's  new-fan- 
gled pig-pens.  We  didn't  have  time  to 
think  of  such  a  thing  as  getting  homesick. 
One  morning  there  were  warm  biscuits 
and  honey  for  breakfast.  You  never  saw 
such  honey!  I  know  I  never  tasted  any- 
thing half  so  good  before.  Grandfather 
Cotton  laughed  a  little  when  I  passed  my 
plate  for  the  third  helping. 

' '  Like  it  ?"  said  he,  cutting  off  a  big  slice. 
"Well,  now,  I'll  give  you  boys  a  chance. 
I've  got  thirty  swarms  o'  bees  in  the  old 
orchard.  You  watch  'em,  and  the  first  one 
that  sees  a  new  swarm  shall  have  it." 

Hal  dropped  his  knife  aud  fork  and 
slapped  his  hands  together.  "Oh,  good!" 
said  he. 

' '  To  carry  home  ?"  said  I. 

Grandfather's  eyes  twinkled.  "I'm  afraid  they'd  turn 
out  to  be  a  white  elephant  if  you  did  that,"  said  he;  "but 
I'll  keep  'em  for  you,  and  you  shall  have  all  the  honey 
they  make.  That's  fair,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  we.     And  wouldn't  you  say  so  '. 
Well,  every  day  after  that  Hal  and  I  kept  good  watch 
of  those  bees.     WTe  were  up  in  the  old  orcliard  twenty 
times  a  day. 

"  You'll  wear  your  shoes  all  out,"  said  Aunt  Hannah, 
laughing  at  us. 

'.'  Then  we'll  go  barefooted,"  said  I.  And  after  a  while 
u  e  did. 

One  day — it  was  a  day  in  .Tune,  and  the  sky  was  clear 
and  the  sun  was  hot — we'd  just  got  in  from  the  orchard. 
In  another  minute  in  came  grandfather  too.  He  took  a 
drink  of  water  from  the  long-handled  clipper,  and  wiped 
his  forehead  with  his  yellow  bandana.,  and  then  he  wink- 
ed at  Aunt  Hannah. 

"The  bees  are  swarming,"  said  he.  "  There's  a  master 
lot  of  'em,  too.  Where's  Zadok  .  ' 

"  Hoeing  corn  in  the  garden,"  said  Aunt  Hannah.  But 
Hal  and  I  we  sat  and  stared. 


AUGUST  14,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


649 


.       .-  ,  -r—  ~ 

M'::^f~ 


HIVING    THE    BEES. 


650 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Bees  swarming!  And  we  had  just  that  minute  come 
in,  and  we  didn't  see  them !  Grandfather  looked  at  us 
and  laughed. 

"  I  was  right  behind  ye  coming  down  across,"  said  he, 
"and  they  were  getting  pretty  well  out  then.  They're 
out  in  a  minute.  It  always  makes  me  think  of  a  freshet 
when  they  start,  there's  such  a  flood  of  'em,  and  they 
make  such  a  roar.  Too  bad  you  didn't  see  'em  first;  but 
there's  a  lot  more  to  follow,  and  it's  better  luck  next  time, 
sure." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  we;  but  we  did  feel  streaked. 

Well,  Uncle  Zadok  got  a  hive  down  from  the  shed 
c-hamber,  and  washed  it  out  with  sweetened  water. 

"We  always  do  that, "said  Grandfather  Cotton;  "the 
bees  are  likelier  to  stay  in  it.  I  suppose  it  makes  'em  feel 
at  home.  Some  folks  use  salt  '11'  water." 

Then  out  came  Aunt  Hannah,  with  her  sun-bonnet  on, 
and  her  arms  loaded  with  a  saw,  and  a  sheet,  and  a  square 
piece  of  board,  and  a  little  brush-broom.  It  was  great 
fun.  Everybody  was  in  a  hurry.  Uncle  Zadok's  face 
was  red,  and  grandfather's  was  all  over  smiles.  It  wasn't 
half  so  long  as  I've  been  telling  about  it  before  we  were 
all  out  in  the  orchard. 

"Why,  they  haven't  lit  yet,"  said  grandfather.  "See 
there,  boys !" 

"O-oh!"  said  Hal  and  I  together;  for  there  the  bees 
hung  high  in  the  air,  a  little  black  wavering  cloud.  Uncle 
Zadok  stopped  a  little  ways  behind,  and  scowled  up  at 
them  with  the  sun  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  guess  they're  thinking  of  leaving,"  said  he. 

"I  do  believe  they  be, "cried  grandfather,  fairly  jump- 
ing around.  "  Run  t'  the  house,  Hannah  Jane,  and  fetch 
the  big  dinner  bell.  Holler,  boys,  holler!  Make  all  the 
noise  ye  can.  Now !" 

Well,  then,  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  funny  it  was. 
You  ought  to  have  been  there  and  beard  us.  Hal  stopped 
once  to  catch  his  breath  and  listen,  and  he  said  he  got  to 
laughing  so  he  couldn't  begin  again.  It  sounded  like  a 
whole  menagerie  turned  loose,  he  said.  Uncle  Zadok 
barked  like  a  dozen  dogs,  and  Hal  hooted  like  an  owl,  and 
I  cawed  like  a  crow,  and  grandfather — I  can't  tell  you 
what  he  didn't  do,  only  that  he  wasn't  quiet;  and  in  a 
minute,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  Aunt  Hannah  was  ringing 
that  dinner  bell  like  the  world  was  afire. 

"All  right,"  said  grandfather;  then,  mopping  his  face 
as  calm  as  a  clock,  "they 're  going  to  stay  a  spell.  I  never 
knew  such  a  racket  to  fail  of  stopping  'em  before  they  got 
well  under  way.  Better  get  the  ladder  and  a  rope,  Zadok. 
'They're  lighting  high." 

So  they  were;  that  little  cloud  was  settling  thick  and 
black  around  one  of  the  topmost  boughs  of  a  knotty  old 
apple-tree. 

"There's  no  end  to  'em!"  said  Hal,  walking  up  nearer. 

Grandfather  Cotton  laughed.  "I've  found  different 
from  that  a  good  many  times,"  said  he,  winking  at  Aunt 
Hannah.  "And  you'll  be  lucky  if  those  bare.feet  of — 
Why,  Harrison,  what's  the  matter  ?" 

For,  if  you'll  believe  me,  Hal  was  jumping  up  and  down 
like  a  Jack-in-the-box  gone  wild. 

"There's  a  red-hot  needle  in  my  foot!"  he  screamed; 
and  then  lie  plumped  down  on  the  grass  and  began  look- 
ing for  it.  He  found  a  tiny  black  point. 

"That  little  thing !''  said  he,  puckering  up  his  face — pool- 
old  Hal.  But  I  had  to  laugh  all  the  same;  and  grandfa- 
ther's eyes  laughed  too.  though  his  face  was  as  sober  as  a 
judge's.  He  mixed  up  a  little  dirt  plaster  and  put  it  oil 
Hal's  foot. 

"It'll  feel  better  in  a  minute,"  said  he;  "but  I  wouldn't 
step  on  any  more  of  'em  than  I  could  help." 

By  this  time  Uncle  Zadok  came  back  with  the  ladder 
.ind  rope  and  a  pail  of  water.  Grandfather  set  the  ladder 
against  the  tree. 

"  I'll  go  up  and  saw  'em  oft',"  said  he,  rolling  his  eyes  at 


us  in  a  funny  way.  "I  always  want  to  let  Zadok  hive 
'em.  He's  young  and  spry,  and  he  enjoys  it." 

"Humph !"  said  Uncle  Zadok.  "Boys,  you'd  best  climb 
that  big  apple-tree  yonder.  You  can  see  there,  '11'  be  out 
o'  the  way  besides.'' 

It  didn't  take  us  long  to  get  up  among  those  branches. 
We  watched  grandfather  go  up  the  ladder  and  tie  the 
rope  to  the  bough,  and  pass  it  up  over  another  bough, 
and  let  the  end  drop  down  to  Uncle  Zadok.  Then  he 
sawed  off  the  limb,  and  Uncle  Zadok  let  it  down,  down, 
until  he  got  hold  of  it.  Aunt  Hannah  had  been  getting 
the  hive  ready.  She  spread  the  sheet  on  the  grass,  and 
laid  the  board  on  it,  and  set  the  hive  on  that,  raised  a,  lit- 
tle at  one  side.  Uncle  Zadok  gave  the  bough  one  great 
shake. 

"There,  now!"  said  he,  and  he  began  to  sprinkle  'em 
with  the  broom,  so  they'd  think  'twas  raining,  and  hur- 
ry in. 

Just  then  I  heard  an  awful  roar.  I  couldn't  think 
what  it  was.  But  just  at  that  minute  Hal  laughed. 

"  Look!"  cried  he. 

And  then  I  laughed  too;  I  couldn't  help  it:  for  there 
was  grandfather  going  one  way  and  Uncle  Zadok  anoth- 
er, and  Aunt  Hannah  another  still,  and  every  one  of 
them  bent  up  as  if  they  had  the  colic. 

"  But  what  makes  'em  look  so  funny  ?"  said  Hal. 

I  knew  then  what  the  roar  meant.  There  was  another 
black  cloud  around  a  bough  right  below  us  on  oitr  /i/i/i/i'- 
tree. 

"Bees!"  I  roared.  And  then  we  both  roared  together, 
Hal  and  I : 

"Grandfather!  Uncle  Zadok!  Aunt  Hannah!  here's 
another — swarm — of  bees !" 

We  sat  right  there  in  that  tree  until  they  were  hived 
too.  You  never  saw  such  fun  ! 

Grandfather  laughed  when  we  slid  down. 

"  Pretty  good,"  said  he.  "  That  swarm  o'  bees  meant 
for  ye  to  see  'em,  didn't  it,  boys  .'" 


TOSSED  IN  A  BLANKET. 

BY  PAUL  BLAKE. 

rPOSSING  was  an  institution  when  I  was  at  school.  I 
_L  fancy  the  boys  had  started  it  in  imitation  of  the  prac- 
tice as  described  in  Tom  Brown's  School-Days.  At  any 
rate, when  I  was  sent  to  school  at  Halehurst,  in  England,  it 
was  a  recognized  institution;  that  is,  recognized  by  every 
one  except  the  authorities.  They  did  not  recognize  it: 
how  could  they,  when  they  had  never  seen  it? 

But,  alas!  all  our  old  institutions  are  dying  out,  and 
before  I  left  Halehurst  tossing  was  as  dead  as  Cicero.  This 
is  how  it  happened,  and  the  story  is  as  true  as  Hume's 
History. 

Dormitory  No.  s  was  well  known  as  a  noisy  room.  Char- 
lie Briggs  led  the  sports  there,  and  Charlie  was  a  boy  of 
considerable  invention  and  perseverance.  It  was  he  who 
introduced  "camping  out"  in  the  dormitories.  This  was 
managed  as  follows:  Two  beds  were  pushed  close  to  each 
other,  sheets  were  pinned  or  tied  together,  a  cricket  bat 
lixed  between  the  beds,  and  the  enlarged  sheet  spread  over 
and  tucked  in.  In  this  way  a  tent  was  formed  which  ac- 
commodated, more  or  less  comfortably,  four  boys,  who  in- 
dulged in  a  forbidden  supper  under  the  covering.  A  can- 
dle was  lighted  to  see  by,  and  it  was  through  an  accident- 
happening  to  a  sheet  that  the  camping  out  was  discover- 
ed and  stopped.  No  one  was  able  to  give  a  satisfactory  ex- 
planation of  a  burned  hole  in  the  tent. 

But  "  tossing"  apparently  involved  no  risk  of  danger; 
at  any  rate,  it  nourished  much  longer  than  tent-making. 
Charlie  was  very  great  at  tossing;  every  new  boy  had  to 
undergo  the  ordeal.  It  was  difficult  to  perform  tlie  opera- 
tion properly  in  the  dark,  so  on  tossing  nights  every  one 


Al'lJl'ST  H,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


651 


prepared  for  bed  as  rapidly  as  possible,  and  the  affair  was 
all  over  by  the  time  the  muster  came  round  to  put  the 
lights  out.  Ou  the  night  of  which  I  am  writing  there 
was  a  new  boy  named  Dick  Playfair.  of  just  the  right  size 
and  shape  for  tossing — not  too  heavy,  but  yet  compactly 
built.  Unfortunately  he  was  a  timid  lad,  and  greatly  ob- 
jected to  being  experimented  on. 

"Come  along,  youngster."  urged  Charlie;  "'twon't 
hurt  you  a  bit,  and  you  shall  have  no  end  of  tatty  when 
it's  over." 

"You  leave  me  alone!''  was  the  reply;  but  the  request 
,vas  in  vain.  The  boys  did  not  think  there  was  any  cru- 
elty in  the  operation,  and  they  were  not  much  given  to 
considering  the  feelings  of  new  youngsters;  their  own 
had  not  received  much  consideration  when  they  were 
small.  So  in  spite  of  his  protests  Dick  was  rapidly  put 
into  the  blanket,  held  by  six  or  eight  boys  eager  to 
begin. 

Dormitory  No.  8  was  at  the  top  of  the  house.  The  ceil- 
ing was  about  ten  feet  high,  and  plastered.  On  a  former 
occasion,  well  remembered  by  many,  a  small  boy  had  been 
shot  up  with  rather  too  much  force,  and  a  considerable 
fall  of  plaster  was  the  result.  It  would  not  do  to  risk 
damaging  the.  ceiling  a  second  time,  so  recently  it  had 
been  the  practice  to  do  the  tossing  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  underneath  the  "  lantern." 

This  lantern  consisted  of  a  large  hole  in  the  ceiling  for 
purposes  of  ventilation.  It  was  like  a  larui1  square  box, 
with  no  bottom,  but  with  movable  glass  sides.  These 
were  generally  open  to  let  fresh  air  in.  Its  depth  was  at 
least  four  feet,  so  that  there  was  no  danger  of  a  boy's  be- 
ing shot  to  the  top. 

"  Now,  then,  hurry  up,"  cried  Charlie  ;  "  we  haven't  too 
much  time.  Take  a  good  breath.  1'ick,  and  you'll  go  up 
like  a  cork.  It's  better  than  being  in  a  balloon  any  day. 
Now — one!  two!  three!" 

At  "three"  the  blanket  grew  suddenly  taut,  and  up 
went  Playfair  splendidly,  into  the  lantern  for  a  moment, 
and  then  back  with  a  thud  into  the  blanket,  which  needed 
some  holding. 

"Let  me  out!"  cried  the  victim. 

"Wait  a  moment;  there's  no  hurry.  \  minister.  You 
have  the  whole  of  your  life  before  you.  Up  she  goes!" 

The  "she"  was  of  course  "he,"  and  he  went  up.  But 
on  this  occasion  a  hitch  occurred.  Charlie's  side  of 
the  blanket  was  more  strongly  manned  than  the  other; 
the  consequence  was  the  living  shuttlecock  did  not 
fly  quite  straight.  For  a  moment  they  feared  he  was 
going  to  strike  the  ceiling,  but  no;  he  flew  up  into  the 
lantern. 

But  he  didn't  come  down.  It  was  such  a  near  shave 
that  he  was  nearly  shot  through  the  open  side  of  the  lan- 
tern. He  wildly  grasped  at  it,  and  just  at  the  top  of  his 
flight,  when  there  was  no  more  force,  he  caught  hold  of 
the  frame-work,  and  clung  to  it  with  all  his  might.  His 
body  was  half  in  and  half  out;  his  legs  were  dangling 
helplessly  in  the  air. 

The  boys  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter;  he  looked  so 
comic  up  there.  But  they  stopped  laughing  when  Charlie 
cried,  "Come  down,  you  little  rogue ;  you'll  get  caught  in 
a  minute." 

"I  can't  come  down, "was  the  reply,  in  u  frightened 
voice. 

"Nonsense!  drop  into  the  blanket.  We'll  catch  you 
right  enough." 

"  I  sha'ii't ;  I  won't;  you'll  hurt  me." 

"Charlie,"  cried  Tom  Wilkinson,  "here's  Mr.  Morgan 
coming." 

Mr.  Morgan  was  the  master  who  made  the  rounds  every 
night.  Tilings  were  looking  serious. 

"Push  a  bed  under  him," said  Charlie.     "  Look  sharp '." 

A  bed  was  quickly  placed  in  position,  and  Charlie  mount- 
ed it;  but  it  was  in.  vain  that  he  tried  to  seize  little  Dick 


and  drag  him  from  his  strange  retreat.  The  youngster 
curled  his  legs  up  under  him.  and  still  held  on.  Mr.  Mor- 
gan's footstep  was  heard  in  the  next  room;  it  was  too 
late  to  try  anything  else.  The  bed  was  pushed  back  into 
its  place,  and  everybody  leaped  beneath  his  counterpane. 
When  Mr.  Morgan  entered  there  was  perfect  order — ap- 
parently. It  is  true,  Charlie's  blanket  was  under  his  bed 
instead  of  upon  it,  but  that  detail  did  not  attract  the  mas 
ter's  notice. 

What  did  attract  it  was  the  strange  spectacle  of  a  boy's 
legs  hanging  down  from  the  ceiling. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  shouted  Mr.  Morgan, 
angrily. 

The  boys  looked  up  innocently,  as  if  Dick's  adventure 
was  brought  to  their  notice  for  the  first  time,  and  as  if  it 
were  quite  a  usual  thing  for  a  boy  to  go  to  bed  v/'d  the 
ceiling. 

"  Who  is  that  up  there  ?"  thundered  the  master. 

"  I  think  it  is  Dick,  sir."  replied  Tom,  seeing  that  a  dis- 
covery of  the  identity  of  the  owner  of  the  legs  must  come 
sooner  or  later. 

"  How  did  he  get  up  there  ?     You,  Charlie  ?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Charlie  confessed — not  sparing  him- 
self, to  do  him  justice.  Mr.  Morgan  did  not  waste  much 
time  in  getting  Dick  down ;  he  stepped  oil  a  stool  and  soon 
"collared  his  leg."  as  Charlie  put  it.  Dick's  grasp  was 
loose  by  this  time,  and  a  gentle  pull  brought  him  into  the 
master's  arms. 

Next  day — but  I  won't  enter  into  details  about  that  in- 
evitable "next  day"  which  follows  wild  pranks  at  school. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  tossing  was  stopped  that  night  once 
and  for  all. 

ALL  ABOUT  GOLD-FISH. 

BY  A.  \V.  ItOBERTS. 
II. 

I  HAVE  found  that  there  is  a  constant  inquiry  about  how 
to  keep  gold-fish,  particularly  what  to  feed  them  on.  The 
best  food  for  gold-fish  is  a  grain  suitably  prepared.  In  proof 
of  this  I  have  known  gold-fish  at  the  New  York  Aquarium 
when  fed  on  animal  food  to  become  so  fat  and  bloated 
that  their  scales  stood  out  from  their  bodies,  and  in  course 
of  time  they  died  in  convulsions;  this  was  the  case  with 
the  Kin-gi-yo,  which  was  fed  on  grated  hog's  liver.  Boil- 
ed rice  (not  boiled  too  soft)  I  have  found  to  be  a,  very  ex- 
cellent and  convenient  food,  and  when  fed  to  the  fish  a 
few  grains  at  a  time  there  is  no  fear  of  injuring  the  puri- 
ty of  the  water.  Next  to  rice  is  flour  (not  "prepared 
flour")  and  milk  worked  into  a  very  tough  dough;  a  few 
pellets  at  a  time  are  dropped  in  the  water,  never  faster 
than  the  fish  take  them. 

There  is  a  preparation  sold  under  the  name  of  ' '  gold- 
fish food"  that  I  have  found  to  be  a  very  good  and  safe 
food  to  introduce  in  the  water.  It  is  composed  of  al- 
bumen, (the  white  of  eggs)  and  the  finest  and  whitest  of 
wheat  flour  made  into  a  dough,  which  is  run  through 
highly  polished  and  hot  steel  rollers  which  both  polish 
and  cook  the  material.  It  is  sold  by  wholesale  druggists 
under  the  name  of  "wafer." 

The  disease  most  common  with  gold-fish  is  "fungus." 
This  never  occurs  unless  a  fish  is  scratched,  bruised,  or  has 
had  some  of  its  scales  torn  off;  then  the  "fungus"  will  at- 
tack the  wounded  part.  It  can  readily  be  known  by  its 
white  and  fluffy  appearance.  The  best  remedy  for  fun- 
gus is  to  pass  the  diseased  fish  as  rapidly  as  possible,  but 
once  only,  through  a  strong  solution  of  salt  and  water. 

In  an  aquarium  where  gold-fish  or  other  kinds  of  fish  are 
kept,  a  small  portion  of  the  bottom  of  the  tank  ought  to  be 
covered  with  fine  and  clean  washed  sand.  Many  fish  eat 
sand,  just  the  same  as  chickens  eat  gravel,  for  the  purpose 
of  assisting  in  the  grinding  up  or  digestion  of  their  food; 
again,  all  fish  are  covered  with  a  thin  coating  of  slime, 


652 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


which  at  times  becomes  too  abundant,  and  to  get  rid  of  it 
they  strike  and  rub  their  bodies  against  any  rough  surface, 
sucl)  as  sand  or  rocks.  All  gold-fish  ought  to  have  at 
least  two  hours  of  morning  sunlight  every  day. 


,         :  rH   W&\ 

Fig.  1.— A  GOLD-FISH  POND. 


The  construction  of  a  gold-fish  pond,  as  shown  in  the  dia- 
gram (Fig.  1. ),  is  a  very  simple  matter.  The  centre  of  the 
pond  should  be  not  less  than  four  feet  in  depth.  This  part 
•of  the  pond  is  known  as  the  "basin, "and  constitutes  the 
winter-quarters  for  the  gold-fish.  As  the  cold  weather 
approaches,  the  fish  assemble  from  all  parts  of  the  pond 
and  huddle  close  together,  burying  their  bodies  almost 
out  of  sight  in  the  soft  mud.  When  the  frost  comes  and 
the  ice  forms,  they  pass  into  a  half-sleeping  condition, 
which  lasts  during  the  winter  months,  and  live  entirely 
without  food.  While  in  this  condition  and  under  the 
thick  ice  one  would  think  them  safe  from  all  enemies;  but 
the  musk-rat  and  the  mink  dive  swift  and  deep,  and  can 
swim  long  distances  under  the  ice,  and  they  both  love  fat 
gold-fish  dearly.  The  only  defense  against  these  enemies 
is  poison  and  steel-traps. 

The  grade  of  the  bottom  of  the  pond  should  fall  gradu- 
ally from  two  inches  at  the  margin  to  two  and  one-half 
feet  where  it  joins  the  "  basin."  In  case  an  old  pond  is 
used,  it  should  be  run  dry  and  allowed  to  bake  all  sum- 
mer, or  a  quicker  way  is  to  "  burn"  it  out  with  lime  so  as 
to  destroy  all  kinds  of  fish,  particularly  eels,  water  ani- 
mals, and  insects.  The  shores  of  the  pond  must  be  plant- 
ed with  water-plants  for  the  fish  to  deposit  their  eggs  on 
(Fig.  2). 

In  the  selection  of  plants  a  splendid  opportunity  is  offer- 
•ed  for  studying  the  habits  of  some  of  the  wonderful  and 
beautiful  water-plants  so  common  in  our  lakes,  rivers,  and 
ponds,  and  also  for  a  display  of  ornamental  water  garden- 
ing. What  more  beautiful  than  the  white  pond-lily,  Audu- 

bon's  pond-lily,  Lobelia  cardi- 
iialis,  or  more  interesting  than 
the  carnivorous  pitcher-plant 
and  the  bladderworts  ?  Then 
comes  Valisneria,  the  water- 
net,  and  the  water-vielet. 

The  proper-sized  gold-fish 
for  stocking  ponds  are  called 
by  dealers  "  fountain"  fish, 
on  account  of  their  being  the 
largest  gold-fish,  and  the  cus- 
tom of  using  them  for  the  or- 
namentation of  the  waters  of 
fountains.  This  kind  of  lish 
can  be  bought  for  from  five 
to  eight  dollars  per  hundred. 
Fifty  fountain  gold-fish  arc 
sufficient  for  stocking  amedi 
um- sized  pond.  You  must 
remember  that  the  gold  lish 
is  wonderfully  prolific  under 
favorable  conditions,  and  in- 
FIG.  a.  creases  very  rapidly.  When 


purchasing  them  see  that  each  is  perfectly  formed  (Fig.  3) 
and  apparently  healthy. 

The  demand  this  year  for  gold-fish  has  been  far  greater 
than  the  supply,  good  colored  and  medium-sized  fish  being 
eagerly  bought  up  at  eight  dollars  per  hundred.  There  is 
one  color  in  gold-fish  that  ought  to  be  carefully  avoided 
when  purchasing  fish  for  stocking  ponds.  I  refer  to  the 
pale  or  light  colored  gold-fish  now  so  plenty  in  the  market. 
Fish  of  this  color  when  kept  in  aquaria  or  globes  seldom 
live  for  more  than  two  weeks  before  they  begin  to  show 
signs  of  sickness.  Stock  fish  ought  to  be  of  the  highest 
colors,  perfectly  shaped,  and  with  all  the  fins  fully  devel- 
oped. Now  that  so  many  of  the  young  folks  are  in  the 
country,  why  not  construct  a  gold-fish  pond  and  stock  it 
with  a  few  fish,  which  by  this  time  next  year  will  have 
so  increased  in  numbers  that  they  can  be  disposed  of  to 
dealers  in  any  of  the  large  cities  at  a  very  great  profit. 

One  day  when  sauntering  down  Eighth  Avenue,  New 
York,  I  was  attracted  to  a  druggist's  window  by  a  curious 
display  of  some  five  gold-fish  contained  in  an  aquarium, 
on  which  was  the  sign  "Performing  Gold-fishes."  On 
each  of  these  fish  was  seated  a  small  painted  figure  of  a 
boy,  made  out  of  elder  pith.  This  was  fastened  to  the  body 


Fi;;.  3.— A  PERFECTLY  FOIIMEU  GOLD-FISH. 

of  the  fish  by  means  of  a  narrow  elastic  band,  as  shown 
in  the  illustration(Fig.  4).  In  the  hands  of  each  of  the 
figures  was  a  fine  thread  of  silk,  the  ends  of  which  passed 
through  the  thin  tissues  that  connect  the  upper  jaw  of  the 
gold-fish  with  the  head  part.  Entering  the  store,  I  found 
the  proprietor  to  be  a  good-natured  German.  Said  I, 

"  My  friend,  how  long  have  you  had  those  fish  harness- 
ed up  ?'' 

"  Oh,  about  two  weeks." 

"  Have  you  had  any  die  ?" 

"No,  they  can't  die.     They  don't  perform  after  nine 


Fl.;    4. 


o  clock  in  the  evening,  when  they  are  unharnessed  and  fed ; 

they  don't  have  to  'goon'till  nine  o'clock  next  morning." 

Eavmg   a   strong  personal   prejudice   against  humped 

1    malformed    gold  lish,   i,nd   not    admiring   this    Ger- 

ians  attempt  at  "fish-culture,"  I  determined  to  effect  a 


AUGUST  14,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


653 


very  radical  change  of  performance  for  the  next  few- 
weeks. 

"  Don't  you  think  the  public  are  tired  of  this  play,  and 
it's  time  to  change  the  bill  ?  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll 
do  for  you:  you  take  those  gold-fish  out  of  the  tank,  and 
I'll  bring  you  in  an  hour's  time  a  handsome  pair  of  nest- 
building  sticklebacks,  and  some  plants  and  material  for 
them  to  construct  their  nests  out  of,  and  will  promise  you 


that  in  two  days  you  will  have  in  your  aquarium  as  hand- 
some a  pair  of  sticklebacks,  with  their  nest  and  young,  as 
ever  was  seen." 

It  was  a  bargain,  so  back  I  went  to  the  Aquarium,  and 
in  less  than  an  hour's  time  the  sticklebacks  were  in  the 
druggist's  aquarium,  and  the  humped  gold-fish  were  in- 
side of — my  oldest,  handsomest  pet  pickerel  at  the  great 
New  York  Aquarium. 


A  BOY  WITH  BRIGHT  IDEAS. 
BY  KIRK  MUNROE. 

had  an  idea 

^         That  with  shoes  of  cork 
»       <  hi  top  of  the  water 
He  conld  walk. 

But  liis  feet  went  up 

And  his  head  went  down, 

And  he  greatly  feared 
That  he  should  drown, 

Until  his  father, 

Who  happened  about, 
Reached  into  the  water 

And  fished  him  out. 


Go-i 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FLAY. 


Cheerfully. 


jk ft. 


ss,  ^  TS  s.s 


*          X 

fn      la       la      la,      tra       la      la !       Let    our    songs    loud  -  ly    ring  ! 
la       la      la.  etc. 


Tra       la        la        la,      tra 


la!       Let       us       gay  -  ly       sing!  Symph. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

I  HAVE  another  brave  girl  to  tell  you  of  to- 
day. She  is  a  brown-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  las- 
sie of  fourteen,  and  her  home  is  in  Jersey  City. 
Since  her  mother's  death,  eighteen  months  ago, 
she  has  been  her  father's  housekeeper,  and  lie 
says  she  is  a  very  good  one.  But  it  was  not  for 
her  housekeeping  that  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about 
Mary  Anne  Atkinson.  She  is  a  favorite  with 
some  young  ladies  who  live  near  her,  and  they 
have  taught  her  to  row.  She  is  a  fearless  swim- 
mer, and  manages  a  boat  with  ease  and  skill. 

One  afternoon  lately  she  heard  the  cries  of 
four  small  boys  who  were  adrift  in  a  boat  in 
Communipaw  Basin.  Suddenly  one  of  them— 
Thumas  Koslow,  twelve  years  old,  the  only  one 
who  could  handle  the  oars— fell  overboard.  He 
had  sunk  twice  when  Mary  Anne,  who  had  seen 
the  accident  from  the  bank,  and  had  put  forth 
to  the  rescue,  reached  him,  grasped  and  drew 
him  into  her  boat.  He  was  unconscious  when 
she  brought  him  to  land,  but  soon  revived  under 
the  measures  which  were  at  once  taken.  Mean- 
while the  brave  girl  rowed  out  again,  and  towed 
in  the  boat  in  which  were  the  little  frightened 
boys. 

Remember  this  new  name  on  our  Roll  of  Hon- 
or. Mary  Anne  Atkinson,  a  strong,  prompt,  and 
courageous  girl.  

The  Postmistress  is  glad  to  insert  the  follow- 
ing letter,  w'.dch  will  make  your  eyes  sparkle 
with  pleasui  -;lie  hopes  before  long  to  receive 
another  letter,  telling  more  about  the  children, 
and  acknowledging  contributions  from  readers 
of  Yorxi;  PEOPLE  which  have  reached  the  hos- 
pital since  this  was  written.  Gifts  for  the  child 
in  Young  People's  Cot,  or  for  the  Sisters  to  use 
for  the  other  little  invalids,  should  be  sent  to  Sis- 
IIT  Catherine  at  the  address  here  given.  You 
must  also  send  your  votes  directly  to  her  if  you 
do  as  she  suggests  in  the  last  sentence  of  her 
letter. 

ST.  MARY'S  FREE  HOSPITAL  FOR  CHILDREN, 
4in  AND  409  WKST  THIRTV-FOI  RTH  ST..  NKW  YORK. 

DEAR  YOUNG  FRIENDS.— You  will  all  be  glad  to 
hear  that  our  Sea-side  Hospital  is  now  open,  and 
that  little  Suite  is  among  the  thirty  of  our  chil- 
dren who  arc  out  of  the  hot,  dusty  city  en.io\  in- 
the  cool  breezes,  the  shells,  the  sand,  and  all  oth- 
er delights  that  only  the  sea  can  give.  I  w ler 

if  any  of  you  can  at  all  imagine  what  a  busy  fam- 
ily we  were  on  that  twenty-eighth  day  of  .lime 
—so  many  baths  to  be  given,  so  many  surgical 
dressings,  splints  and  bandages  that  must  be  on, 


long  before  the  usual  time,  and  so  many  last 
things  to  go  into  the  already  full  trunks. 

As  soon  as  the  early  dinner  was  over  the  car- 
riages arrived,  and  in' them  were  placed  all  who 
could  not  walk,  while  those  who  could  use  their 
limbs  were  taken  in  the  horse-cars  to  the  ferry 
at  Thirty-fourth  Street.  The  two  parties  met  at 
Long  Island  City,  and  here  we  wen-  much  disap- 
pointed in  not  being  able  to  get  on  board  tin- 
train  as  early  as  we  hoped.  The  little  ones  got 
re-tless  and  fretful,  but  some  petting  and  scold- 
ing judiciously  applied,  and.  above  all.  a  small 
package  of  candy  given  to  each  one  by  a  kind 
man.  helped  to  keep  them  comparatively  quiet 
before  the  crowd  of  strangers. 

As  soon  as  the  train  was  ready  we  were  al- 
lowed to  pass  out  first,  and  so  secure  for  the 
children  all  the  cushioned  seats  in  one  of  tin- 
large  cars  that  carry  hundreds  of  happy,  healthy 
people  daily  to  Rockaway  Beach.  Just  as  the 
train  was  starting,  Pete,  the  turtle,  was  taken 
from  George's  pocket,  and,  much  to  the  chil- 
dren's delight,  was  allowed  to  have  a  crawl  on 
the  floor.  This  was  our  first  intimation  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  being  taken  back  to  his  native 
air  for  the  summer  months. 

When  the  train  reached  our  station  we  found 
the  stages  waiting  for  us,  and  we  were  driven 
over  the  hard  beach,  where  the  water  touched 
the  horses'  hoofs,  and  made  some  of  the  wee 
ones  fancy  that  they  would  certainly  be  drowned. 
We  soon  reached  St.  Mary's-by-the-Sea.  and  great 
were  the  exclamations  of  delight  over  the  fence. 
the  plank  walks,  and  other  conveniences  that 
some  young  readers  of  HARPER'S  YOTNI;  PEOPLE 
had  enabled  us  to  build  this  spring.  Supper  was 
ready  forthe^ittle  ones,  and  soon  the  tired  limbs 
were  laid  in  the  white  beds  that  look  out  on  the 
sea.  and  most  of  the  occupants  were  quickly  in 
dream-land.  Most,  but  not  all,  for  some  oi  them 
can  not  at  once  get  accustomed  to  what  "the 
\\  ild  waves  are  sayiliL'."  and  last  summer  a  small 
b»y  was  found  alone  on  the  balcony  calling  tu 
them  to  ••  hush  up  !" 

It  is  just  two  weeks  since  the  children  went 
down,  and  already  they  have  improved  most 
wonderfully.  Little  Sadie  is  able  to  be  up  till 
day,  George  can  wheel  himself  dnwn  the  broad 
plank  walk  to  the  water,  and  the  appetites  are 
so  LTc;it  that  we  tell  their  owners  the  Fresh  air 
Fund  will  soon  be  eaten  up.  since  our  last  let 

tc   r   We    have      reeeh  ell    II. .Ill    reaili    r-    <    i     II  VHP]   I: 

YOUNI;  PEOPLE  the  following  contributions  :  Jen- 
nie I..  II.  shippey,  arc. ;  cliff.  Patty,  and  Joe  P., 
Lewistown.  IVnm.s:',:  Mastic  Kyilil.  .-•.• 

Each  week  has  brought  Sadie  a  ln.x  of  fresh 
flowers  from  a  young  friend  in  South  Greenfield, 
L.  I.,  flowers  have  been  sent  from  Montclair, 
N.  J.,  Staten  Island,  Hackensaek,  N.  .]..  liiv.r 
dale,  and  other  places,  paper  dulls  from  Jennie 
Shippey,  and  some  paper  furniture  from  a  little 
friend  in  Washington.  Yesterday  some  charm- 
ing paper  dolls,  all  the  way  from  Xeuchntei  ar. 
rived,  and  were  sent  down  to  Sadie  sin-  was 
delighted  with  the  letter  from  Libbie.  ;u  ., 


be  no  less  pleased  with  the  one  in  rhyme  which 
came  from  Kansas  City.  If  Sadie  continues  to 
improve,  perhaps  she  may  not  be  put  hack  in 
Young  People's  Cot.  and  1  wonder  if  any  of  you 
care  whether  the  next  child  be  a  girl  or  a  boy? 
Perhaps  those  who  are  interested  might  send 
their  votes  here  between  now  and  next  Septem- 
ber, and  we  will  decide  in  favor  of  the  sex  re- 
ceiving tlie  largest  number.  Your  grateful  friend, 

S. 


COAIMISKEY,  INDIANA. 

I  want  to  tell  you  what  happened  to  one  of  our 
ch  ickens  yesterday.  My  little  sister  was  c  ut  play- 
ing, and  she  heard  the  chicken  chirping,  and  went 
to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  it.  It  was  flut- 
tering, and  she  thought  it  was  dying,  and  what 
do  you  think  was  the  trouble?  It  had  been  try- 
ing to  eat  a  Bess  bug,  and  the  bug  had  caught  the 
chicken  with  its  pincers  right  above  the  nostrils, 
and  I  guess  the  poor  thing  thought  it  was  going 
to  be  killed.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Little  llouse- 
kecpers.  will  you  please  put  my  name  down? 
My  little  sister's  name  is  Lucy ;  she  likes  to  hear 
the  stories  read  to  her.  Thanks  to  you  for  the 
explanation  of  Wiggles,  but  I  forgot  to  ask  what 
kind  of  paper  to  draw  them  on.  Will  you  please 
tell  me?  Good-by.  LI-I.IE  A.  D. 

Use  whatever  paper  you  choose.  Note-paper 
is  as  good  as  any  for  the  purpose. 


NEW  HAVEN,  CONNECTICUT. 

Havim:  never  written  before,  and  as  we  like 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much,  we  thought  we  woul'd 
write  now.  We  are  getting  a  collection  of  but- 
t  critics,  tint  have  not  many.  Will  some  one  please 
tell  us  a  nice  way  to  kill  them  ?  We  are  enjoying 
our  vacation  very  much,  and  dread  to  have"  the 
time  come  when  we  shall  have  to  go  to  school 
again.  We  belong  to  a  society.  The  name  of  it 
is  tin-  T  ( '  (  \\  e  would  like  to  tell  you  about 
it.  but  it  is  a  great  secret.  FORD  and  FRANCES. 

A  drop  of  camphor  or  a  little  ammonia  will 
kill  your  butterflies  painlessly,  and  will  not  hurt 
yon  as  ether  might. 


LYNCH BC Ru,  TK\^. 

I  saw  iii  tin'  Post-office  Box  a  letter  from  Geor- 
gia M.  s  sayiim  -he  had  a  little  sister  seven  weeks 
old  not  named.  I  would  like  to  name  her.  so  that 
if  ever  ]  see  the  child  I  may  know  it  is  the  baby 
1  named.  If  Georgia  likes  the  names  I  have  se- 
ll eii  ,1.  will  she  please  let  me  know  thr<>ui.rh  the 
Post -office  Hi,x?  Call  the  little-  darling  Lillie 
Olivia,  or  Pearl  Donella,  after  myself, 

I  live  near  the  San  Jacinto  battle-ground, 
wl the  bodies  of  the  dead  Mexicans  once  cov- 
ered the  m-oiinil,  and  where  the  Texan  soldiers 
are  buried.  There  is  now  a  monument  erected 
to  the  memory  of  the  latter  by  the.  citizens  of 
Galveston  and  Houston.  The  ground  is  a  beau- 
t  iful  hill  situated  on  the  banks  of  Buffalo  BHYOII. 


AI'iTST  14,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


655 


We  have  our  picnics  and  camp-meetings  there 
frequently.  In  INNCI  then-  were  eighteenhundred 
people  there  <ui  the  'Jlst  of  April,  celebrating  the 
day.  'I'lif  rnosl  noted  men  of  the  state  were 
there  to  make  speeches.  There  was  at  the  eele- 
bration  a  brave  old  in:in  who  wore  a  powder- 
horn  that  saved  his  life  at  the  battle.  The  ball 
struck  the  horn,  anil  it  flattened  it.  The  burn 
was  an  old-fashioned  cow's  horn.  Ho  had  both 
ball  and  horn  with  him.  The  poor  old  man  is 
dead  now.  PEABLIE  H. 


BALTIMORE,  MAHYLAND. 

Having  read  the  description  of  the  pleasant 
evening  LMine  rranibo.  we  tliouirlit  we  would 
atti-mi't  it.  It  is  a  vrry  funny  and  interesting 
game.  and  affords  ns  a  eood  ile'al  of  amusement. 
At  tirst  w-e  foiiml  it  difficult  to  make  rhymes,  but 
a  little  praetic.'  -"«  i.  settled  that.  I  send  some 
spe.  'linens  of  our  efforts  : 

\\'onl  —  "  Fly."     (pitry  —  "  Do  yon  like  to  travel?" 
I'd  like  to  trav-1  the  whole  world  round, 

And  visit   every  clinic 
The  fly  a  pesky  insect  is— 
And  now  away  with  rhyme! 

"Styii."    "  M'/m/  i'»li>i-  /M/.V  the  air?" 
The  air  is  blue. 
The  crass  is  green. 
The  skin  is  white. 
He  lias  a  spleen. 

"Sail."    "  /in  ijn'i  liki  to  read  f" 
Some  will  spend  their  leisure  moments 

I,  vine  idly  in  the  chair, 
Others  while  away  tin-  hours 

Building  castles  in  the  ait- 
Some  will  seek  the  grass  green  meadow, 

There  to  romp  and  skip  and  fall, 
Others  with  excited   inter.'M 

Watch  a  party  playing  ball. 
Each  does  that  which  gives  him  pleasure 

And  which  he  likes  best  to  do; 
I,  for  my  part,  take  to  reading. 

And  I  hope  you  do  so  too.     KK  KAIID  (  '. 


Al.Bl'qt'ERO.t'K,   NKW    MEXICO. 

1  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  have  a  bur- 
ro, and  his  name  is  William  the  <'oni|iieror.  but  I 
call  him  Billy.  I  ride  him  every  morninc-  I  have 
a  little  pug-doc,  and  his  name  is  Squib.  I  have 
rive  pigeons.  I  ha\  c  a  cat.  and  its  iia  in.  i<  Frisky. 

MAHIE  S.  It.' 

STATEV  ISLAND,  NEW  Yo«v. 

I  am  a  little  girl  seven  years  old  I  have  t  wen 
ty-one  dolls,  and  they  all  have  pretty  names.  I 
have  also  three  birds,  doves  ami  chiukens,  and  a 
Co"d  cat  named  Marc  Antony.  I  am  sick.  and  as 
I  am  sick  I  can  not  write  this  letter.  My  Man- 
na writes  it  for  me.  I  have  taken  \  ..i  M.  1'i.oei.K 
for  a  year  and  a  half,  besides  other  papers.  I 
like  YOCNG  PEOPLE  especially.  My  Nanna  has 
been  reading  the  letters  for  me  this  morning  I 
hope  you  will  print  this  letter,  because  1  want  to 
surprise  my  mamma,  'iood-by.  I  love  you. 

MAUD  GERARD  P. 

Dear  little  Maud  has  been  sick  a  whole  year.  I 
hope  she  will  soon  be  well  again. 


CASK  ISLAND,  SorT.H  CAROLINA. 

We  live  on  an  island  five  miles  from  Beaufort. 
Across  the  river,  nearly  opposite  the  house,  is  a 
beautiful  grove  of  live  oaks  and  magnolias,  call- 
ed "Old  Fort."  where  there  are  the  remains  of 
an  old  Spanish  fort  :  some  of  its  walls  are  still 
standing.  Directly  opposite  to  us  is  tin-  town  of 
Port  Royal,  with  its  cotton  press,  grain  elevator, 
and  very  large  wharves  for  shipping.  A  mile 
down  the  river,  lying  at  anchor,  is  the  United 
states  coal  ship  Pawnee;  and  last  year  we  had 
the  United  States  steam-ship  Wyoming  anchored 
nearly  in  front  of  the  house.  We  have  no  neigh- 
bors here,  so  I  have  no  little  girls  to  play  with: 
but  my  two  brothers  and  myself  go  in  bathing 
every  day,  and  very  often  we  go  out  sailing.  I 
am  eleven  years  old.  and  I  have  chickens  and 
guinea-hens  and  ducks  to  take  care  of,  and  les- 
sons to  say  to  mamma  in  the  morning,  so  that  I 
am  busy  all  of  the  time.  I  have  tried  the  pop- 
overs,  and  they  were  very  nice.  I  have  never 
seen  any  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box  from  this 
part  of  the  State.  MAIIY  M.  E. 

CLIFTON,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  a  boy  nine  years  old.  We  have  a  dog 
named  Rob  Roy,  who  will  stand  on  his  hind  l.-urs 
and.  wave  his  front  paws  in  the  air  if  you  hold 
a  piece  of  gingerbread  in  your  fingers  above  his 
head.  I  am  staying  at  the  sea-shore,  and  I  like 


LA  CROSS*-,  WIS."\SIN. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  and  will  be 
nine  this  week.  Thursday.  1  have  a  little  brother; 
his  name  is  Roy:  lie  is  a  year  and  live  months 
o\  r  I  go  to  school,  ami  when  I  come  home 
Roy  comes  to  meet  me.  It  is  vacation  now.  I 
have  many  little  friends  here.  I  expect  to  go  to 
Kn-litord  this  week.  It  has  rained  steadily  for 
four  tlays  here.  Please  may  I  join  the  cooking 
club.  Do  please  put  in  this  letter.  AI.LIE  P. 

Yes,  dear,  you  may  join.  Your  receipt  appears 
in  another  column. 


it  very  much,  only  I  don't  like  the  cold  water. 
I  like  "  liaising  the  'Pearl'  "very  much,  and  now 
I  wish  Mr  \Men  would  write  another  story,  be- 
cause In-  has  written  such  interesting  stories  be- 
fore.    L  M.  B. 

PHILADELPHIA.  PESNSVI  VAMA. 

My  father  and  mother  are  visiting  in  Denver, 
(  'olor.ido.  ami  I  am  keeping  hoii>e.  I  would  like 
to  join  your  Little  Housekeepers,  as  I  am  very 
fond  of  cooking.  I  tried  a  receipt  for  rice  pud- 
ding and  one  for  jumbles,  and  found  them  both 
verj  nice.  My  brother  has  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE 

since  the  s ,nd  year,  and  we  are  all  delighted 

with  it.  I  must  close  now,  or  1  am  afraid  this 
will  not  be  printed,  and  I  would  like  to  surprise 
my  mother  and  father.  RABENA  M.  B. 

Your  mother  must  be  proud  of  a  girlie  who 
can  take  her  place  in  her  absence. 


ory  and  tell  it  at  the  meetings.  The  wholi 
lib  an-  going  to  write  to  the  Post  office  llox  in 
little  while.  JA<-K  |;  n 


BOVINE  BEND.  TEXAS. 

I  take  Yoi'N«i  PEOPLE,  and  must  tell  you  how  I 
L'ol  t  M\  granilpa  look  it  for  me  and  mv  two 
cousins.  Arthur  M,  and  Walter  H.  We  think  it 
ili.  In 'st  paper  we  ever  read.  My  sister  llettie 
has  taken  it  (or  grandpa  took  it  for  hen  three 
years.  She  won  Id  like  to  have  her  numbers  bound. 
t  ould  you  let  her  know  the  cost  of  three  bind- 
iiic-.  and  where  she  could  get  them? 

I  have  a  pony  and  saddle,  one  little  rat-dog, 
and  two  guinea  sows  with  ten  pics.  I  drive  up 
Hi.,  rows  everj  evening,  and  help  papa  milk.  I 
can  help  mamma  a  ur""d  deal  in  the  kilehen.  I 
have  four  sisters,  three  younger  than  myself.  I 
am  nine  years  old.  Mamma  has  a  paper  with 
i  ..in  nil  Washington's  obituary  in  it,  and  a  pieee 
of  poetry  on  "The  llealh  of  Washington."  by  a 
young  lady.  l'/.*/i  r  i',,ui,iij  i,,i:,ll,  is  Hie  name' of 
lii.'  paper.  dated  January  4.  IS*NI  llettie  tried 
some  oi  1 1 1.'  receipts  for  OUT  tea  parties,  and  they 
were  nice.  NATIIEN  1'.  W. 

If  Miss  Beltie  will  write  to  Messrs  Harper  A 
Brothers,  inclosing  %\  05,  they  will  send  her  the 
bindings  for  her  three  volumes.  The'  price  of 
each  binding,  postage  paid,  is  35  cents. 


WOI.DSTOCK,  VERMONT. 

This  is  the  second  year  I  have  taken  YOUNG 
PEOPLE.  I  like  Mrs.  Llllle's  stories  best  of  all.  I 

hope   she    will    not  "let    another  little   girl    steal 

into  our  hearts."  bin  that  Nan  will  come  back. 
I  think  -Jimmy  Brown  sets  a  bad  example.  If  I 
ha.l  a  brother  who  acted  as  lie  does  I  would  be 
ashamed  of  him  I  have  read  Ellie  E.'s  letter, 
and  think  if  she  has  studied  well  in  every-day 
lessons  she  need  not  dread  examination.  I  think 
girls  can  have  a  motto  as  well  as  boys;  mine  is 
"  Choose  the  good."  I  am  twelve  years  old. 

MINNIE  A.  S. 
A  good  motto. 

FORT  PLAIN,  NEW  YORK. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  take  YorNt; 
PEOPLE,  and  I  used  to  take  The  Nurxery.  I  like 
to  read  the  stories  in  it ;  I  liked  the  story  of 
"Nan"  very  much.  I  had  a  little  Manx  kitten. 
but  it  died  Ho  your  little  girls  and  boys  know 
what  a  Manx  kitten  is?  MAUCIA  M.  V. 

Speak,  my  dears,  and  tell  Marcia. 


Thanks  are  due  for  charming  letters  to  Suiah 
M..  Hush  <;.  <•..  Minnie  r.  .who  wishes  a  good 
housekeeper  to  tell  her  how  to  make  very  nice 
pie-crusti.  Helen  It..  Anna  It.  II.,  Mary  It.  H.,  Kthel 
It.  \.,  Lanny  L..  Mary  I  .  W..  Anna  Jean  II..  Anna 
M.  D.,  Wallace  !•'..  T..  Nelly  «'.  C'. ;  I  am  glad  you  en- 
joy Mrs.  Hays's  stories  ;  so  do  I).  M.  V.  K.,  Kilith 
II..  W.  \V.  T..  Myrtie  K.  i:.,  Sylvester  S..  Jennie  X., 
Winnie  V.,  Alice  It.,  Alma  C.  C.,  Jesse  B.  K.,  F.  \.. 
Amy  'anil  Jess.  M.  Winnie  M..  Itessie  H..  (.1  ,inl  ('.  It. 
(I  can  not  recommend  any  one  for  the  business 
of  which  you  inquire),  Alice  W.,and  Fanchette. 


RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

Crtri.i.F.r.s.— Two  cups  of  sugar,  half  a  cup  of 
butter,  three  eggs,  one  cup  of  sweet,  milk,  one 
small  nutmeg,  three  tea-spoonfuls  of  baking-pow- 
der, and  flour  enough  to  roll  out;  fry  in  boiling 
lard  to  a  nice  brown. 

TTMBLER  CAKE. — Two  tumblers  of  flour,  one 
and  a  quarter  of  sugar,  three-quarters  of  butter, 


one  tea-spoonful  of  cream  of  tartar  and  half  a 
lea  spoonful  of  soda  sprinkled  on  the  flour  and 
sifted  through  it,  two  egcs.  i  he  grated  rind  of  half 
a  lemon,  and  half  a  tumbler  of  milk. 

LEDA  G.  P. 

BUTTERSCOTCH  i/.v  I/,.//,  i  ,/„,,//„//;,  II".)— No. 
1.— Half  a  cup  of  butter,  one  cup  of  molasses,  one 
cup  of  sugar;  boil  until  it  snaps;  try  it  in  cold 
water.  AMY  imd  JESS. 

BUTTERSCOTCH— No.  3.— Three    tablc>- spoonfuls 

of  vinegar,  four  of  sugar,  two  ot  lasses,  and 

one  of  butter.  JI-LIA  HOLMES  P. 

BrrTERscoTcii  —  No.  3. —  Two  cups  of  brown 
sugar  w  itli  vinegar  enough  to  moisten  it.  a  lump 
of  butter  half  the  size  of  an  egg;  boil  until  it  will 
harden  in  ice-water  without  stirring;  pour  into 
buttered  tins  until  it  cools.  JENNY  M. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 
E  N I Q  M  A. 

With  messages  upon  my  back 

I  fly  alone  or  in  a  pack, 

Perhaps  yon  say.  when  1  am  spent. 

I  was  not  worth  a  single  cent. 

Yet  I  was  sold  fur  that  amount, 

And  oft  I  am  of  great  aeeoinit 

Now  I  am  neither  coin  nor  ball, 

In  fact,  I  am  not  round  at  all. 

Pray  who  and  what  am  I.  good  boys? 

And  tell  me  without  too  much  noise. 

J.  K.  SEI.IM. 

No.  2. 

A   WORD   SUTARE. 

1.  Scent.  2.  Venture.  3.  Spoken.  4.  Depend 
on.  LILY  H.  WOOD. 

No.  3. 
ACROSTIC. 

1.  To  cleanse.  2.  Dexterity.  3.  An  article  of 
dress.  4.  To  suggest.  5.  A  metal.  6.  To  count. 
7.  An  end.  H.  Harmony.  9.  One  of  the  months. 
111.  Nautical.  Initials  form  the  name  of  one  of 
our  country's  greatest  sons.  LILY  H.  WOOD. 


No.  4. 

A   DIAMOND. 

1.  A  letter.  2.  To  fasten.  :i.  To  moisten  gently. 
-I  original.  5.  To  return.  0.  The  opposite  of 
peace.  7.  A  letter.  PRINCE  LAZYBONES. 


No.  1 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  195. 

Doxologies.    Jeannette. 

WOLF 

OLIO 

LION 

FONT 
G  anges. 
K    Ilia. 
o  bio 
G  eneva. 
R  ome. 
A  mazon. 
P  yrenees. 
H   olland. 
Y"  ang-tse-Kiang. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Herbert  II.  Morrison,  Arthur  Bancroft,  Ju- 
lian Hopgood.  Kose.  Freil  and  Francis.  M.  and  L. 
Bruckman.  Milly  Brett,  .lames  Hulse,  Rosa  Con- 
soer,  Forrest  T.,  Amy,  Silver  Pearl,  Jennie  A.,  <;. 
U.  Swain,  Archer  Hayes.  Anna  Roberts.  Lily  H. 
Wood,  M.  V.  K.,Gracie  R.  T.,  Susan  Nipper,  New- 
port, W.  C.  Fownes,  Jun..  ( 'hester  Ames,  Richard 
Fox,  Alice  Barclay,  John  Embree, Theodore  War- 
ren, T.  B.  Dewey,  and  Amy  Brown. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


A   NEW   SERIAL. 


DICK     AND     D." 


BY    LUCY     C. 

Author  of  "MILDRED'S  BARGAIN,"  "NAN,"  etc. 


The  little  people  who,  ever  since  the  conclusion 
of  "  Nan,"  have  been  writing  us  such  pressing 
letters  about  another  story  by  Mrs.  LILLIE,  will 
be  glad  to  learn  that  next  week  we  shall  publish 
the  first  chapters  of  a  new  serial  story  by  this  pop- 
ular author.  Dick  and  D.  are  two  splendid  fel- 
lows, one  doing  his  part  among  pleasant  scenes 
and  rich  surroundings,  while  the  other  shows  his 
heroism  amid  the  gloom  of  tenement-house  life, 
where  he  provides  for  and  watches  over  the  lit- 
tle blind  brother  left  to  his  charge  by  a  dying 
mother. 

The  beginning  of  a  new  serial  is  always  a  good 
time  to  subscribe. 


656 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OFF   FOR    A    VISIT. 


INDIAN  GAMES. 

I.  —  AMAIYOTTAM  ;  OR,  THE  TORTOISE  RACE. 
Tf^WO  or  more  boys  sit  down  iu  a,  line,  with  their  luiees  touch- 
JL  ing  their  chins,  anil  crossing  their  hands,  hold  their  feet, 
the  right  with  the  left  hand,  and  the  left  with  the  right  haud. 
Thus  contracted,  they  move  toward  a  fixed  goal.  Should  any 
let  go  his  hold  with  either  hand,  In-  "  ilic's,"  and  remains  motion- 
less on  the  spot  where  he  fails.  He  that  reaches  the  goal  suc- 
cessfully returns  in  the  same  manner  to  the  person  who  had 
lagged  behind,  ami  says,  "  Dead  tortoise,  what  are  yon  doing?'' 
He  replies,  "  I  am  waiting  for  some  one  that  would  give  me  life." 


Instantly  the  victor  goes  round  him  in  the 
same  posture,  when  the  other  is  said  to  "re- 
vive." The  two  move  back,  as  before,  and 
reach  the  point  from  which  they  had  started. 
and  the  game  is  concluded.  Tin-  essence  of 
the  game  consists  in  holding  hard,  often  un- 
der very  trying  circumstances. 

II.  —  KOOTHARAI  ATTAM  ;  OR,  THE  HORSE- 
LEAP  GAME. 

In  this  the  sport  consists  in  one  boy  jump- 
ing over  another,  who  puts  himself  succes- 
sively in  various  postures,  in  which  the  height 
increases  in  gentle  gradation,  as  described 
below  : 

1.  Sitting  down,  with  his  legs  stretched  out 
before  him  side  by  side. 

2.  With  one  foot  over  the  other  vertically, 
in  the  same  posture. 

3.  A  span  over  the  second  foot*the  palm 
being  stretched  out,  and  the  tip  of  the  thumb 
resting  over  the  tip  of  the  toe. 

4.  Another  span  over  it  similarly. 

5.  Standing  up  and  bending  down,  touch- 
ing bis  toes  with  bis  thumbs. 

(i.  Increasing  the   height   by  holding  the 
calves  of  his  legs,  in  the  same  posture. 
7    Then  the  knees. 

8.  Then  the  thighs,  bending  his  head,  to 
keep  it  out  of  the  way,  like  a  horse  under  curb  and  rein. 

He  who  jumps  over  has  to  increase  his  distance  and  speed  in 
proportion  ;  and  should  he  touch  the  other  in  any  attempt,  he 
has  to  sit  down  and  let  othersjump  over  him  in  the  same  manner. 


III.—  NAL^M^ILAI  THATCHI;  OR,  THE  FOUR-CORNEU  GAME. 

Three  boys  stand  at  three  corners  of  a  large  square,  while  one 
keeps  within,  moving  round  among  them.  Availing  themselves 
of  the  vacant  corner,  the  three  constantly  change  places,  taking 
special  care  not  to  be  touched  by  the  fourth  while  in  actual  mo- 
tion from  one  corner  to  another.  Should  any  be  so  touched,  he 
has  to  give  up  his  place  to  the  victor,  and  go  round  like  him. 


A   TRIAL   TRIP. 


HARPER: 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN     ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  1V.-NO.  199. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  August  21,  1883. 


Copyright,  1863,  by  HABPEB  A  BBOTVEKS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


'THAT'S    TIIE    BOY    THAT    DOES    ERRANDS    FOR    COOK.' 


DICK    AND     D." 

BY    LUCY    C.    L  ILL  IE, 

of  **  !Mil<l reel's    Bargain,"   "^STaii,"   etc.,   etc. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  TWO  BROTHERS. 

'    4   ND  there's  glory  curtains  to  the  windows.'' 
jTx  selected  a  good  place,  and  took  another  bite  o 
very  carefully  after  saying  this. 


Dick 
of  apple 


"Glory  curtains,"  a  very  thin  little  voice  repeated. 
"What's  those,  Dick?" 

"Well,  sort  of  all  covered  over  with  flowers — yellow 
flowers.  Don't  you  'member  wot  yellow  looks  like, 
Norry  ?" 

Norry  thought  half  a  minute,  and  then  said,  very  quiet- 
ly. "  Kinder." 

"And  when  you  look  inter  the  winders  you  can  see  the 
big  fire  on  the  hearth,  and  it  dances  up  sorter,  and  makes 
you  wish  so  you  was  warm.  And  there's  pictures  011  the 
wall  —  here,  take  a  bite  of  apple  —  and  beautiful  carpets 
and  chairs  and — oh  my  !  all  sorts  o'  things." 


658 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


' '  Ain't  that  flue  ?"  said  Norry,  with  half  a  laugh.  ' '  And 
tell  about  him  and  her,  Dicky." 

"Oh,  she's  Hke — like  a  angel,  I  should  think,  and  the 
old  gentleman  he  takes  her  out  a-ridin'  in  a  carriage  all 
lined  in  with  satin— smooth,  shiny  satin — and  yesterday 
I  just  went  up  and  held  the  door  open  for  'em  as  they  got 
in,  and  says  she,  '  Oh,  that's  the  boy  that  does  errands  for 
cook.'" 

Norry  laughed,  and  Dick  laughed  with  him;  and  then 
they  ate  their  apple  a  moment  in  silence. 

Presently  Norry  said,  "Ain't  it  gettiii'  dark?" 

Dick  jumped  up  exclaiming:  "So  it  is!  Well,  good- 
by,  Norry,  for  a  while.  I'll  be  back  for  yer  supper.  You 
ain't  very  hungry,  are  you  ?" 

Norry  hesitated  a  short  time. 

"N — no,  not  so  very."  ho  said,  in  his  little  weak  voice. 
He  could  not  see  how  the  tone  affected  Dick.  The  elder 
boy's  face  drew  together  with  a  strained,  hard  look. 

"Well,  I'll  hurry— quicker' 11  ever  to-night,  I  guess,'' 
he  said,  shortly,  and  then,  as  if  with  an  effort,  forced  him- 
self away. 

The  room  upon  which  Dick  closed  the  door  was  the 
poorest  part  of  an  attic  in  one  of  New  York's  poorest 
streets.  It  was  bare  and  cold,  and  great  cracks  in  the 
walls  and  floor  let  in  the  wind  and  let  out  whatever 
warmth  came  from  the  fire  built  from  the  few  poor  sticks 
the  two  boys  had  managed  to  get  together.  A  broken  table 
in  the  middle  of  the  room  and  an  old  chair  were  the  only 
pieces  of  furniture,  and  on  a.  poor  straw  mattress  at  one 
side,  facing  the  dormer-window,  lay  the  boy  Dick  had  left. 
Outside,  a  furious  snow-storm  was  sending  whirling  flakes 
down  upon  the  old  roof  of  the  house  and  against  the 
broken  window-panes.  A  little  pile  of  snow,  indeed,  had 
drifted  in  across  the  window  -  ledge,  and  made  the  room 
even  colder  than  before.  Ncrry,  lying  oil  his  hard  little 
bed,  wondered  how  this  happened.  He  felt  the  added 
chill,  but  he  could  not  see  its  cause,  for  Norry "s  eyes  were 
closed  to  all  sights.  He  was  blind. 

How  the  boys  came  to  be  living  in  so  desolate  a  fashion 
is  a  story  quickly  told.  Just  one  year  previous  to  the 
day  of  which  I  am  writing  they  had  come  from  the  coun- 
try for  the  first  time  to  a  large  town.  Their  mother  was 
a  widow  who  had  supported  herself  and  her  boys  comfort- 
ably, if  very  plainly,  by  needle-work,  but  ill  health  finally 
compelled  her  to  give  up  every  such  effort,  and  seek  the 
advice  of  some  good  physician  in  New  York.  There  the 
first  suggestion  made  to  her  was  that  she  should  place  her 
boys  in  some  institution,  and  herself  enter  a  hospital.  At 
this  poor  Mrs.  Devine  was  panic-stricken.  Accustomed 
to  regard  all  large  cities  as  places  of  iniquity,  where  her 
boys  might  at  any  time  be  spirited  from  her,  and  with  all 
an  invalid's  nervousness,  she  determined  so  far  as  possi- 
ble to  keep  them  away  from  dangers  of  the  kind,  and  so, 
with  fast  failing  strength,  she  shut  herself  up  in  flieir  one 
room,  and.  refusing. medical  assistance,  went  on  .with  her 
work. 

We  all  know  how  poorly  paid  and  how  hard  to  procure 
is  needle  .»«>rk  in  any  large  town.  Mrs.  Devine  shrank 
from  the  very  name  of  a  charitable  institution,  and  with 
her  peculiar  kind  of  obstinacy  shut  her  eyes  to  the  fact 
that  any  such  place  could  mean  comfort  or  well-being  for 
her  children  and  herself.  The  origin  of  this  was  the  mis- 
management of  the  only  place  of  the  kind  she  had  ever 
seen.  The  horrors  of  starving  and  whipping  had  been 
brought  to  light,  and  she  had  determined  that  as  long  as 
she  could  hold  up  her  head  the  "authorities''  should  do 
nothing  for  her  boys  or  herself. 

As  the  months  went  by,  and  the  poor  woman's  strength 
grew  less  and  less,  she  endeavored  to  impress  her  feelings 
strongly  on  Dick's  mind.  (Jome  what  might,  he  was 
made  to  understand  that  he  wa;;  to  keep  Norry  with  him 
until  he,  Dick,  was  leg-ally  old  enough  to  have  the  child  in 
charge.  He  was  never  to  place  himself  where  any  one 


could  question  him  too  closely  about  his  little  blind  bro- 
ther, never  to  make  friends  with  boys  who  would  lead 
him  astray,  or  talk  to  policemen  or  other  grown  people 
who  would  insist  upon  their  being  given  to  the  "authori- 
ties" to  look  after— a  strange  prejudice,  which  poor  Mrs. 
Devine's  nervous  state  increased  hourly ! 

Six  months  after  they  came  to  New  York  the  widow 
died.  It  was  a  day  Dick  never  could  forget — a  burning 
August  morning.  And  so  entirely  secluded  had  she  kept 
herself  that  Mrs.  Devine  had  no  friend  to  stand  beside  her 
except  a  poor  old  Irish  woman  whose  heart  had  melted 
many  a  time  as  the  three — Dick  and  Norry  clinging  to  the 
mother's  hand — had  passed  up  and  down  the  stairs  of  the 
house.  Dick,  in  his  first  agony  of  terror,  had  called  to 
Mrs.  Macvoy,  but,  on  her  reaching  the  widow's  bedside,  it 
was  to  find  the  poor  woman  almost  speechless,  her  one 
effort  being  to  murmur  a  prayer  and  commend  her  chil- 
dren to  God's  keeping. 

"  Trust— trust,"  she  said,  and  Dick  knew  well  what  that 
word  meant,  for  in  all  their  trials  he  had  never  known 
his  mother's  faith  to  fail. 

And  so  the  elder  boy  found  himself  a  few  days  later 
sitting  alone  in  the  dusk  of  the  room,  holding  Norry 's 
hand  tightly  in  his,  and  wondering  what  to  do  next. 

Mrs.  Macvoy  had  attended  to  the  widow's  simple  burial. 
Money  was  found  under  her  pillow  for  that  purpose,  and 
all  the  rest  of  her  hard-earned  savings — ten  dollars — seal- 
ed in  a  paper  and  addressed  to  Dick. 

As  the  two  orphans  sat  clinging  to  each  other  hi  the 
hot,  still  dusk  a  step  sounded  on  the  stair,  and  the  door 
was  opened  on  their  one  most  dreaded  enemy — a  man 
named  Gurdlo,  who  occupied  one  of  the  rooms  in  tin; 
house,  and  who  had  for  some  time  tried  to  entice  Dick  and 
Norry  out  with  him. 

\Ye  have  ;iU  seen  dozens  of  such  men,  yet  it  is  hard  to 
describe  just  the  look  of  mean  cunning  and  brutality  which 
darkened  Gurdle's  face.  He  was  a  thickset,  powerful 
man,  with  bloated  cheeks,  a  low  forehead,  and  small,  sharp 
eyes  very  near  his  nose,  altogether  about  as  repulsive- 
looking  a  creature  as  could  be  imagined. 

Dick  shuddered,  and  drew  Norry  closer  to  him.  Hap- 
pily, and  yet  perhaps  unfortunately,  little  Norry's  eyes. 
closed  to  all  sights,  could  not  quite  take  in  what  Dick  sa\v 
to  detest  in  their  neighbor.  Yet  even  he,  riot  seeing  the 
coarse  face,  heard  the  veice,  and  instinctively  dreaded  the 
man. 

"Well,  boys,"  Mr.  Gurdle  began,  "so  yer  ma's  been 
took.  Well,  I  suppose  you've  got  to  look  around  for  a 
living,  a  honest  living',  ain't  ye  ?" 

Dick  tried  to  say,  bravely,  "Yes,  I  am  going  to  see  to 
my  little  brother." 

"  Oh,  you  are,  are  you  ?"  lailghed  Mr.  Gurdle.  "  Well. 
I'll  put  you  both  in  the  way  of  earning  your  bread  and 
butter  as  long  as  you  leaves  yourself  entirely  to  me. 
Jem,"  he  called  out,  and  at  this  moment  a  second  figure 
appeared  in  the  door— a  young  man  with  a  slouching  gait, 
and  a  bandage  over  one  eye — "Jem,  don't  3-011  think  this 
little  chap" — laying  his  dirty  hand  on  Norry's  head — 
"  uoiild  just  about  suit  the  business?" 

"  Very  well,  it'  he  won't  be  up  to  no  tricks." 

"We  don't  want  any  help,"  cried  Dick,  hi  trembling 
tones.  "  Thank  you  very  much,  but — we — we  don't  want 
help." 

"( >h,  indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Gurdle,  sarcastically.  "Well, 
I  guess  I've  made  my  mind  up  oil  that  question,  so  you 
needn't  trouble  yourself,  my  lad.  Now  you  can  slay 
where  you  are.  and  we'll  he  back  with  your  supper  very 
soon  — nice  sausages,  you  know,  hot  and  steaming,  and 
then  we'll  just  talk  this  matter  over." 

They  were  gone.     Dick,  standing  still  a  moment  in  the 

fast-darkening  room,  felt  all  the  horror  his  mother  had 

ver  had  as  to  what  might  befall  them.     What  could  they 

do  ?     There  was,  it  seemed,  no  course  for  them  to  pursue 


AUGUST  :M,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


659 


luil  tn  run  away,  seek  a  new  lodging,  and  stay  a  few  days 
in  hiding. 

Dick  was  only  twelve  years  old.  and  a  country  hoy  \\  ho 
had  led  a  lonely  life,  but  lie  was  manly  and  resolute,  and 
poverty  had  taught  him  the  sort  of  independence  and  self- 
reliance  that  hoys  in  a  different  station  might  not  have 
acquired.  He  had  no  hesitation  about  starling  out  to 
face  the  \vorld  with  Xorry ;  his  one  dread  was  to  be  "tak- 
en  in  hand"  by  any  one.  Mr.  (  !unlle  of  all  other  human 
li-ings  in  the  world. 

".\orry. "he  half  whispered,  "did  yon  hear  those  aw- 
ful men  .'  We  must  go  a \va y  -quickly — at  once.  The 
rent's  paid  up  to  to-morrow,  and  there's  the  ten  dollars, 
you  know." 

"  ( io  where.  Dick  ;"  the  little  blind  boy  said,  eagerly. 

"I'll  tell  ye.  Do  you  remember  the  old  apple  woman 
I  helped  up  in  (Irand  Street;" 

"Yes.' 

"Well,  I  know  she  lias  I  \\  o  rooms,  and  T  think  she'll 
give  us  a  place  to  stay  in  until  1  look  around;  onl\  we 
must  he  quick." 

Xorry  was  very  patient  while  Dick  ha-tiU  put  their 
possessions  together.  He  dared  not  light,  a  candle  nor 
make  an  unnecessary  sound,  ami  indeed  his  preparations 

Were  to.>  few  to  take  llilll    long. 

With  the  ten  dollars  pinned  inside  his  eoat,  anil  a  bun- 
dle in  one  hand  and  Xorry 's  little  palm  in  tl ther.  l>ick 

started  forth,  down  the  rickety  stairs,  swiftly  and  silent- 
ly, scarcely  stopping  to  breathe  until  they  were  well  into 
I  roadwaj  and  on  their  way  to  (-Jrand  Street.  Hi-,  one 
idea  was  to  leave  Gnrdle  and  the  oilier  man  behind  them. 

(  IIAPTKH  II. 

A     X  E  W     H<>  31  K. 

MRS.  .lAMES.  the  old  apple  woman,  was  sitiini:  sleepily 
by  her  stall  as  the  hoys  approached.  She  was  a  stout. 
kind -hearled.  rather  cross-mannered  old  woman,  lint  Dick- 
had  once  rendered  her  a  service  which  she  had  promised 
never  to  forget,  and  as  he  explained  that  he  had  money  to 
pay  for  a  lodging,  she  was  all  the  readier  to  take  them  in, 
and  after  some  deliberation  she  gave  Dick  her  key,  with 
instructions  where  to  find  her  rooms.  One  of  them  hail 
been  until  very  lately  occupied  by  her  own  sons,  ami  un- 
til their  return  at  least  she  was  willing-  to  give  the  Devine 
boys  a  shelter. 

No  time  was  lost  by  Dick  once  the  arrangement  nas 
made.  He  was  thankful  it  was  an  attic  and  in  an  obscure 
street.  There,  while  he  sought  for  work,  he  might  feel 
that  he  left  Xorry  safe  from  the  clutches  of  Gurdle. 

But  then  arose  the  question  as  to  what  to  do.  Dick 
feared  he  ought  not  to  seek  for  regular  employment.  He 
would  be  "found  out";  they  would  question  him.  and  so 
all  his  mother's  fears  might  be  realized.  Untrained  as  he 
was,  Dick  had  been  taught  well  what  his  mother's  "trust" 
meant,  and  his  heart  as  well  as  his  lips  prayed  earnestly. 

A  chance  occurrence  the.  next  day  opened  a  way  for 
him.  While  standing  near  an  old-fashioned  corner  house 
on  Fifth  Avenue  an  old  gentleman  in  a  doctor's  chaise 
drove  up.  The  horse  took  fright,  and  an  accident  might 
have  happened  but  that  Dick  rushed  forward  and  saved  the 
wheel  from  turning  against  the  curb-stone.  The  old  gen- 
tleman as  he  got  out  thanked  the  boy,  and  bade  him  go 
down  into  the  kitchen,  where  the  servants  would  be  hav- 
ing dinner.  The  master  of  the  house  must  have  given 
some  instructions  to  the  cook,  for  she  received  Dick  gra- 
ciously, and  he  enjoyed  a  capital  meal,  after  which  he 
was  asked  to  go  on  some  errand  for  Brooks,  the  butler. 
The  reward  of  a  quarter  for  this  made  Dick  wonder  if  he 
might  not  get  the  chance  of  odd  jobs  here  and  there,  at 
least  until  he  dared  find  regular  employment. 

So  it  came  about  that  two  or  three  times  in  the  week  he 
presented  himself  at  the  house  with  the  "glory  curtains." 


where  his  willing,  prompt  manner  rendered  his  services 
well  worth  having.  Once  or  twice  Dr.  Field  had  sent 
him  down-town  on  an  errand;  sometimes  the  cook  asked 
permission  to  have  him  go  out  for  her,  or  the  butler  pro- 
cured his  assistance  with  the  silver  or  the  fires.  But  with 
it  all  Dick  never  dared  talk  of  himself,  or  of  Xorrv.  or  of 
anything  that  might  lead  to  questionim- 

It  was  an  easy-going  household.  The  Doctor  was  a 
widower,  and  had  but  his  one  little  grandchild  with  him. 
She  it  was  whom  Dick  was  wont  to  describe  to  Norry  as 
"a  angel."  Often  there  would  be  company,  when  Dick's 
services  were  sure  to  be  needed  below-stairs.  and  one  such 
occasion  had  arrived  on  the  night  when  my  story  begins. 

Mr.  Brooks,  the  butler,  had  warned  Dick  to  "look  sharp" 
and  be  there  by  half  past  six.  and  Mr.  Brooks  could  make 
himself  very  unpleasant  when  he  chose.  Dick  could  not 
help  regarding  him  with  something  of  the  same  fear 
that  Mr.  (-itirdle  had  inspired.  But  he  tried  to  dismiss 
any  such  idea  from  his  mind  on  this  evening  as  he  made 
In-  way  hurriedly  up  to  the  large,  quiet-looking  house, 
with  its  many  windows,  its  "glory"  curtains,  and  so  much 
comfort  and  good  cheer  within. 

[TO  BE  COXTIXTEK.] 


STOXK  LILIES,  Oft  CRINOIDS. 

\:\    -  \KAII  cooPEE. 

IIM-'.MKMI'.Ki;  seeing  in  the  Post -otlice  Box  of  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  some  time  ago  a  letter  in  which  the 
writer  speaks  of  the  museum  at  Ann  Arbor,  and  of  the 
iiiierestinir  things  to  be  seen  there.  The  next  time  he 
\  i-its  the  museum  if  he  will  ask  the  janitor  to  show  him 
uioids  and  other  fossils  he  may  lincl  new  objects  of 
i  iii'-rest. 

I  hope  all  of  you  who  live  near  a  good  museum  will 
make  frequent  visits  to  it,  and  examine  for  you  in  I  ves  the 
\\iniilrously  beautiful  things  which  we  have  been  study- 
ing; they  are  so  much  more  real  when  we  see  them  for 
ourselves.  The  hoys  and  girls  near  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts, should  prize  the  privilege  of  having  access  to  the 
Agassiz  Museum.  Here  they  will  find  a  choice  collection 
of  specimens,  distinctly  marked,  and  grouped  in  such  a 
way  that  the  first  glance  will  show  to  what  class  of  ani- 
mals each  specimen  belongs.  We  shall  have  to  content 
ourselves  with  this  way  of  studying  crinoids.  as  the  living 
ones  grow  on  rocky  beds  in  the  deep  ocean.  They  are 
obtained  only  by  dredging,  and  few  of  us  will  ever  have 
a  chance  to  see  them. 

Crinoids  are  attached  during  the  whole  or  a  part  of 
their  lives  to  the  sea  bottom  by  means  of  a  jointed  stalk 
which  is  so  flexible  as  to  bend  freely  in  any  direction.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  stalk  is  the  cup-shaped  body,  with 
its  waving  arms,  which  may  be  folded  together  like  a 
flower  bud.  or  spread  open  like  the  petals  of  a  full-blown 
water-lily.  Swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  bright  water,  this 
curious  animal  closely  resembles  a  flower  tossed  by  a  gen- 
tle breeze,  and  as  it  really  has  a  hard  skeleton  through- 
out, "stone  lily"  is  not  a  bad  name  for  it. 

The  specimen  which  I  have  chosen  to  illustrate  this 
article  was  obtained  during  the  famous  voyage  of  the 
(.'linllfngvr.  and  was  named  by  Sir  Wyville  Thomson 
tf>/<ii-riiiiin  Bethellianus,  after  one  of  the  members  of  the 
expedition.  This  is  a  very  unusual  and  beautiful  mem- 
ber of  the  crinoidal  group.  The  length  of  the  stem  was 
between  six  and  seven  inches,  but  the  lower  part  was 
wanting,  so  that  there  was  no  means  of  ascertaining  what 
its  whole  length  may  have  been.  The  head,  including 
the  cup  and  arms,  was  abovit  two  and  one-third  inches  in 
length.  The  arms  are  five  in  number,  like  those  of  the 
star-fish. 

Let  us  imagine  a  star-fish  supported  in  this  way  upon 
the  end  of  a  long  stalk,  and  we  shall  have  a  pretty  good 


660 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


idea  of  a  crinoid.  In  compar- 
ing the  two  we  must  invert  the 
star-fish,  however,  as  the  mouth 
of  a  criuoid  is  on  the  upper  sur- 
face, whereas  in  the  other  echiu- 
oderms  the  mouth  is  under- 
neath. The  cri  n  oids  d  iff er  from 
the  star -fishes  we  have  been 
studying  in  having  no  tube-feet. 
They  creep  about  by  using  the 
rays  like  legs.  There  are  slen- 
der little  pedicels  in  the  path- 
like  grooves,  which  might  eas- 
ily be  mistaken  for  tube-feet; 
and  the  membrane  lining  the 
grooves,  not  the  pedicels  them- 
selves, appears  to  be  covered 
with  cilia,  which  create  currents 
of  water  toward  the  mouth,  and 
carry  to  it  the  minute  plants 
and  animals  upon  which  the 
crinoid  feeds. 

Like  the  star  -  fish  and  sea- 
urchins,  these  cousins  of  theirs 
secrete  lime  to  form  a  solid 
frame  -  work  for  their  bodies. 
The  lime  is  deposited  in  circu- 
lar plates,  which  are  surrounded 
and  held  together  by  living  flesh, 
so  that  they  bend  with  great 
ease.  Indeed,  crinoids  may  be 
known  by  the  little  rings  of 
which  they  are  composed. 

In  some  crinoids,  as  the  Co- 
matnla,  or  feather-star,  the  ani- 
mal is  fastened  to  the  ground 
only  when  young.  Later  in  life 
it  drops  from  the  stalk,  and  is 
free  after  this  to  travel  about. 
It  can  swim  freely  through  the 
water;  still  it  prefers  to  remain 
quietly  settled  on  some  stone  or 
sea-weed,  waving  its  feathery, 
bright  red  arms  while  it  feeds 
upon  the  little  animals  floating 
around.  It  now  resembles  a 
star-fish  more  than  ever,  though 
it  moves  only  by  means  of  its 
flexible  arms. 

The  family  of  crinoids  is  very  ancient,  and  was  perhaps 
at  one  time  the  most  numerous  family  which  inhabited 


Bl 

HYOCRINUS  BETHELLIANITS, 
(About  twice  the  natural  size.) 


DISK  OF  HYOCRINUS  BETHEI.LIANCS. 
(Eight  times  the  natural  size.) 


ARRANGEMENT  OP  THE  SOFT  PARTS  IN  HYOCRINVS  BETHELLIANUS. 

a,  Mouth  valves ;  *,  Vessels  surrounding  the  mouth :  c.  Tentacles  ;  d,  e, 

Inner  view  of  the  gullet  and  stomach  ;  f.  Intestine  ;  y,  Loose  tissue. 

(Eight  times  the  natural  size.) 


the  sea.  Like  some  other  old  families  it  has  almost  died 
out.  There  are  but  few  species  now  living,  and  two  or 
three  of  these  have  been  recently  discovered  by  scientific 
explorers  while  dredging  the  deep  parts  of  the  Caribbean 
Sea  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

Fossil  remains  of  crinoids  are  abundant  in  rocks,  show- 
ing that  in  past  ages  they  must  have  lived  in  great  quan- 
tities on  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  In  France  large  beds 
of  rock  are  formed  of  their  remains,  and  the  same  is  true 
of  many  other  parts  of  Europe  and  North  America.  The 
circular  plates  of  the  crinoids  were  so  loosely  held  to- 
gether by  flesh,  that  when  the  animal  died  they  fell  apart, 
and  the  little  disks  now  found  in  the  rocks  look  like 


SECTION  op  CRINOIDAL  LIMESTONE,  SHOWING  THE  STEMS.  ETC..  OP  THE 
CRINOIDS  AS  THEY  LIE  IN  DIFFERENT  POSITIONS  IN  THE  *TOXE. 

button-moulds  ornamented  with  beautiful  patterns  and 
markings. 

See  how  the  crinoid  stems  are  piled  upon  each  other  in 
the  limestone  rock,  and  notice  the  little  hole  in  the  mid- 
dle of  each.  N,,  wonder  that  such  fine  old  crinoids  as 
this  should  have  been  mistaken  for  petrified  flowers. 

Perhaps  you  will  wonder  how  animals  could  be  im- 
bedded in  hard  rocks.  To  understand  this  we  must  re- 
member that  most  of  our  rocks  are  formed  of  sand  or  mud 
which  has  become  hard  from  the  constant  pressure  of 
other  layers  of  sand  and  mud  that  have  accumulated  above 


AUGUST  21,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


661 


them.  The  rocks  must  have  been  in  this  soft  condition 
when  the  animals  died  and  were  buried  in  them.  As  the 
rocks  hardened,  the  solid  parts  of  the  animals  were  pre- 
served in  a  stony  bed,  the  hard  rock  fitting  closely  into 
every  crack  and  cranny.  When  these  rocks  are  split 
open  we  sometimes  find  the  animal  on  one  side  of  the 
crack,  and  a  perfect  impression  on  the  other.  These 
petrified  remains  are  called  fossils,  and  they  tell  us  a  fas- 
cinating1 story  of  the  curious  animals  and  plants  that  lived 
a  long  time  ago. 

The  true  nature  of  fossils,  and  the  causes  which  placed 
tin-in  in  solid  rocks,  interested  the  poets  and  philosophers 
long  before  the  Christian  era.  It  is  only  within  the  last 
century,  however,  that  they  have  been  accepted  as  records 
of  the  history  of  our  earth.  There  are  many  animals  now 
entirely  extinct  of  whose  existence  we  should  know  no- 
thing but  for  their  fossil  remains.  These  relics  of  the 
past  tell  also  of  great  changes  from  heat  to  cold  in  cer- 
tain parts  of  the  earth.  For  instance,  the  bones  and  teeth 
of  elephants,  rhinoceroses,  and  other  animals  that  require 
warm  climates  are  found  in  Siberia  and  in  other  cold 
countries,  which  shows  that  the  polar  regions  were  once 
much  warmer  than  they  are  now.  Again,  remains  of 
reindeer  are  found  in  Southern  Europe,  showing  the  ex- 
istence of  extreme  cold  at  another  period  in  the  earth's 
history. 

So  you  see  these  fossils  have  wonderful  secrets  lo  tell. 
Strange,  old-fashioned  secrets,  for  the  formation  of  the 
rocks  I  IMS  In  M-n  ver\  slow,  and  the  animals  buried  in  them 
must  have  died  thousands  of  years  au'o.  (Yinoids  and 
corals  and  shells  which  live  only  in  the  ocean  are  found 
in  the  interior  of  the  dry  land,  which  proves  beyond  a 
doiilit  that  these  parts  ot'  our  earth  must  at 
one  lime  have  been  beneath  the  sea. 

Is  it  not  a  lovely  thought  that  these  del- 
icate crinoids  uhicli  heaiitilied  the  ocean 
long  before  we  were  here  to  admire  them 
are  not  utterly  destroyed,  but  that  some 
of  I  heir  skeletons  have  been  preserved  and 
are  waiting  for  us  in  the  gray  old  rocks  if 
only  our  tastes  are  simple  and  cultivated 
enough  to  find  them  out  ; 

The  more  our  thoughts  dwell  upon  things 
which  are  true  and  beautiful,  the  more  true 
and  beautiful  our  lives  will  become,  and 
from  mere  admiration  of  these  virtues  we 
may  find  ourselves  growing  into  what 
Charles  Kingsley  calls  a  "self-forgetful 
worship." 

SUE'S    WEDDING. 

BY  JIMJIY  BROWN. 

SUE  ought  to  have  been  married  a  long 
while  ago.  That's  what  everybody 
says  who  knows  her.  She  has  been  en- 
gaged to  Mr.  Travers  for  three  years,  and 
has  had  to  refuse  lots  of  offers  to  go  to  the 
circus  with  other  young  men.  I  have 
wanted  her  to  get  married,  so  that  I  could 
go  and  live  with  her  and  Mr.  Travers. 
When  I  think  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  a 
mistake  I  made  she  would  have  been  mar- 
ried yesterday,  I  find  it.  dreadfully  hard  to 
be  resigned.  But  we  ought  always  to  be 
resigned  to  everything  when  we  can't 
help  it. 

Before  I  go  any  further  I  must  tell  about 
my  printing-press.  It  belonged  to  Tom 
McGinnis,  but  he  got  tired  of  it  and  sold  it 
to  me  real  cheap.  He  was  going  to  write 
to  the  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  Post-office  Box  and 
offer  to  exchange  it  for  a  bicycle,  a  St.  Ber- 


nard dog.  and  twelve  good  books,  but  he  finally  let  me 
have  it  for  a  dollar  and  a  half. 

It  prints  beautifully,  and  I  have  printed  cards  for  ever 
so  many  people,  and  made  three  dollars  and  seventy  cents 
already.  I  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  be  able  to  print 
circus  bills  in  case  Tom  and  I  should  ever  have  another 
circus,  so  I  sent  to  the  city  and  bought  some  type  moren- 
aninch  high,  and  some  beautiful  yellow  paper. 

Last  week  it  was  finally  agreed  that  Sue  and  Mr.  Trav- 
ers should  be  married  without  waiting  any  longer.  You 
should  have  seen  what  a  state  of  mind  she  and  mother 
were  in.  They  did  nothing  but  buy  new  clothes,  and  sew, 
and  talk  about  the  wedding  all  day  long.  Sue  was  deter- 
mined to  be  married  in  church,  and  to  have  six  bride- 
maids  and  six  bridegrooms,  and  flowers  and  music  and 
things  till  you  couldn't  rest.  The  only  thing  that  troubled 
her  was  making  up  her  mind  who  to  invite.  Mother 
wanted  her  to  invite  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McFadden  and  the 
-i  \  en  McFadden  girls,  but  Sue  said  they  had  insulted  her, 
and  she  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  asking  the  McFadden 
tribe.  Everybody  agreed  that  old  Mr.  Wilkinson,  who 
once  came  to  a  party  at  our  house  with  one  boot  and  one 
slipper,  couldn't  be  invited  ;  but  it  was  decided  that  every 
one  else  that  was  on  good  terms  with  our  family  should 
have  an  invitation. 

Sue  counted  up  all  the  people  she  meant  to  invite,  and 
there  was  nearly  three  hundred  of  them.  You  would 
hardly  believe  it,  but  she  told  me  that  I  must  carry  around 
all  the  invitations  ami  deliver  them  myself.  Of  course  I 
couldn't  do  this  without  neglecting  my  studies  and  losing 
time,  which  is  always  precious,  so  I  thought  of  a  plan 
which  would  save  Sue  the  trouble  of  directing  three  bun- 


'SHE    GAVE   AN   AWFUL    SHRIEK    AND    FAINTED    AWAY.' 


662 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


dred  invitations  and  save  me  from  wasting  time  in  deliver- 
ing them. 

I  got  to  work  with  my  printing-press,  and  printed  a 
dozen  splendid  big  bills  about  the  wedding.  When  they 
were  printed  I  cut  a  lot  of  small  pictures  of  animals  and 
ladies  riding  on  horses  out  of  some  old  circus  bills  and 
pasted  them  on  the  wedding  bills.  They  were  perfectly 
gorgeous,  and  you  could  see  them  four  or  five  rods  off. 
When  they  were  all  done  I  made  some  paste  in  a  tin  pail, 
and  went  out  after  dark  and  pasted  them  in  good  places 
all  over  the  village. 

The  next  afternoon  father  came  into  the  house  looking 
very  stern,  and  carrying  one  of  the  wedding  bills  in  his 
hand.  He  handed  it  to  Sue  and  said  :  "  Susan,  what  does 
this  mean  ?  These  bills  are  pasted  all  over  the  village, 
and  there  are  crowds  of  people  reading  them.''  Sue  read 
the  bill,  and  then  she  gave  an  awful  shriek,  and  fainted 
away,  and  I  hurried  down  to  the  post-office  to  see  if  the 
mail  had  come  in.  This  is  what  was  on  the  wedding  bills, 
and  I  am  sure  it  was  spelled  all  right  : 

Miss  Susan  Brown  announces  that  she  will  marry 

Mr.  James  Travcrs 

at  the  Church  next  Thursday  at  half  past  seven,  sharp. 
All  the  Friends  of  the  Family 

With  the  exception  of 
the  McFaddcn  trilic  and  old  Mr.  Wilkinson 

are  iuvitcd. 

Conic  early  and  bring 

Lots  of  Flowers. 

Now  what  was  there  to  find  fault  with  in  that?  It  was 
printed  beautifully,  and  every  word  was  spelled  right,  with 
the  exception  of  the  name  of  the  church,  and  I  didn't  put 
that  in  because  I  wasn't  quite  sure  how  to  spell  it.  The  bill 
saved  Sue  all  the  trouble  of  sending  out  invitations,  and 
it  said  everything  that  anybody  could  want  to  know 
about  the  wedding.  Any  other  girl  but  Sue  would  have 
been  pleased,  and  would  have  thanked  me  for  all  my 
trouble,  but  she  was  as  angry  as  if  I  had  done  something- 
real  bad.  Mr.  Travers  was  almost  as  angry  as  Sue,  and  it 
was  the  first  time  he  was  ever  angry  with  me.  I  am 
afraid  now  that  he  won't  let  me  ever  come  and  live  with 
him.  He  hasn't  said  a  word  about  my  coming  since  the 
wedding  bills  were  put  up.  As  for  the  wedding,  it  has 
been  put  off,  and  Sue  says  she  will  go  to  New  York  to  be 
married,  for  she  would  perfectly  die  if  she  were  to  have  a 
wedding  at  home  after  that  boy's  dreadful  conduct.  What 
is  worse,  I  am  to  be  sent  away  to  boarding-school,  and  all 
because  I  made  a  mistake  in  printing  the  wedding  bills 
without  first  asking  Sue  how  she  would  like  to  have  them 
printed. 

TWO  GIRLS. 

BY   WILLIS   B.  ALLEX. 


•  T  WONDER  if  they  are  so  different ..'." 


Edith  Moreton's  pretty  young  forehead  had  a  puz- 
zled little  wrinkle  as  she  stopped  rowing  for  a  moment 
and  leaned  forward,  with  the  oar-blades  rippling  through 
the  water,  and  the  muslin  sleeves  falling  back  from  her 
brown  wrists. 

"Are  they  so  different,  Cousin  John  '." 

Her  companion  gave  an  impatient  twitch  to  his  straw 
hat. 

"Why,  of  course!  They  are  not  like  you,  Edith. 
They  are  ignorant  and  poor  and — and  not  clean,  you 
know.  They  were  born  to  it,  and  they  like  it." 

"  But  it  doesn't  seem  right.  I  heard  a  lady  on  the  piaz- 
•/.•  i  this  morning  say  something  about  'those  creatures'  in 
such  a  way  that  I  thought  she  was  speaking  of  rats  or 
snakes.  It  turned  out  she  meant  the  convicts  who  at- 
tacked their  keepers  at  the  prison  last  July." 

Edith  spoke  warmly,  as  she  was  apt  to  do  when  she  once 
toot  up  a  subject.  She  was  one  of  those  earnest  girls 


with  whom  young  men  at  summer  hotels  are  rather  shy 
of  entering  into  conversation.  She  was  only  fifteen,  and 
one  by  one  the  terribly  real  problems  of  the  day  wore  mar- 
shalling themselves  before  her.  She  would  not  pass  then! 
iy  with  a  gay  laugh,  after  the  prevailing  mode  of  h.-r  mer- 
ry companions.  She  felt  somehow  that  it  belonged  to  her 
;o  help  the  world  and  make  it  better,  as  well  as  to  the  mis 
sionaries  and  other  good  people  upon  whose  shoulders  \\  •• 
so  willingly  pack  responsibilities. 

"It,  must  be  the  way  these  people  live  and  are  brought 
ii|)  that  makes  them  so  rough  and  bad.  Isn't  there  any 
way  to  help  them  ?" 

"None  that  amounts  to  much.  Besides,  that  isn't  our 
business.  There  are  men  enough  who  do  nothing  else — 
are  paid  for  it — missionaries  and  the  like.  And  you  can't 
make  everybody  rich,  you  know.  The  Bible  itself  .says, 
'  Ye  have  tlie  poor  always  with  you.' " 

"Perhaps  that  doesn't  mean  that  we  ought  to  have 
them,"  replied  Edith,  slowly. 

"  Well,  they're  here,  and  we  may  as  well  make  the  best 
of  it." 

"  But  what  is  the  best  ?     That's  just  it." 

"What  is  the  use  of  your  thinking  about  it?  You 
can't  do  anything,  and  you  don't  even  know  the  kind  of 
people  we're  talking  of;  the  North-Euders,  for  instance. 
You  have  never  seen  and  touched  them  ;  and  if  you  should 
meet  them  face  to  face,  I  don't  believe  you  would  care  for 
any  further  acquaintance.  They're  simply  disgusting.'' 

Edith  said  no  more  on  the  subject,  and  just  as  the  sun 
dropped  into  the  arms  of  the  waiting  pines  on  the  hill 
they  reached  the  little  wharf  011  the  river-bank,  moored 
the  boat,  and  walked  up  to  the  hotel  where  she  was  spend- 
ing the  summer.  She  went  straight  to  her  mother's  room, 
and,  after  her  fashion,  as  straight  to  the  point. 

"Mother,  I  want  to  go  into  the  city  right  away,  and 
spend  a  day  with  Aunt  Augusta.'' 

"But,  my  child,  it's  tea-time  already,  and  there's  a  hop 
to-niglit.  Besides,  you  can  not  go  alone  at  this  hour. 
You  had  better  wait  till  morning." 

"  Mother,  I  so  much  want  to  go  now.  The  train  leaves 
in  fifteen  minutes.  Alice  can  go  with  me.  I  don't  care 
for  the  hop,  anyway:  it's  too  warm  to  dance.  Please, 
mother  ?" 

Of  course  energetic  little  Edith  had  her  way.  and  with 
Alice,  her  mother's  maid,  seated  by  her  side,  was  soon 
whirling  along  toward  the  city,  with  a  strong  resolve  in 
her  mind. 

"I'll  walk  up  to  aunty's  from  the  depot,  and  to-mor- 
row I'll  go  down  to  North  Street  with  Cousin  Will." 

The  train  stopped  at  all  the  small  stations,  and  was  de- 
layed by  various  causes,  so  that  it  was  quite  dark  when 
she  started  on  her  walk.  She  was  glad,  after  all,  to  find 
the  streets  well-lighted,  and  tilled  with  respectable-look- 
ing people. 

While  Edith  and  her  attendant  were  making  their 
way  along  Washington  Street  in  the  dark,  another  girl 
about  thirteen  years  of  age,  named  Bridget  Flanagan,  was 
standing  on  the  third  gallery  of  the  Crystal  Palace,  in 
the  good  city  of  Boston,  looking  down  into  Lincoln  Street. 
Bridget  was  a  delicate  and  sickly  child,  her  pale  cheeks 
and  slender  limbs  showing  an  intimate  acquaintance' 
with  want  anil  misery.  Like  Edith,  she  was  wondering 
uhether  anything  could  be  done  to  aid  the  poor.  Not 
that  any  such  words  passed  through  her  mind.  Dear 
me,  no!  I  doubt  if  she  would  have  even  known  what 
"aid"  meant,  that  word  being  in  her  mind  associated 
solely  with  lemons  of  a  shrivelled  and  speckled  character. 
If  she  had  spoken  her  thoughts,  which  she  sometimes  had 
a  queer  way  of  doing,  she  might  have  said  something 
like  this:  "  Don't  I  wish  I  could  git  out  o'  this!  An'  the 
rich  folks  wid  all  the  money  they  wants,  an'  nothin'  to 
do  but  buy  fans  an'  use  'em  up.  My '.  ain't  it  hot  :" 


AI'd'ST  21,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


663 


It  was  hot.  There  was  a  man  playing  on  a  hand-orirun 
in  the  street  below,  and  not  only  had  a  crowd  of  children 
and  idlers  surrounded  him  as  he  stood  before  a  brilliantly 
lighted  liquor  store,  but  the  long  rickety  galleries  which 
run  in  front  of  each  floor  in  the  "Palace"  were  full  of 
half-dressed,  red-faced  women  and  children,  who  leaned 
on  the  dirty  railing  and  listened  to  the  music,  just  as  the 
guilts  at  the  "Pines"  at  the  same  time  were  listening  to 
their  orchestra  of  a  dozen  pieces. 

In  the  gallery  overhead  Bridget  heard  two  women 
dancing  and  shouting  noisily.  Somewhere  in  the  build- 
ing a  child  was  crying  loudly  in  a  different  key  from 
the  hand-organ.  Bridget  didn't  notice  these  things  par- 
ticularly; she  was  vised  to  them.  Only  there  came  over 
the  young  human  girl-heart  which  was  beating  lieneath 
the  rags  and  in  the  midst  of  this  wretchedness  a  sick 
longing  for — what  i  Bridget  did  not  know. 

"  It's  the  hot  weather  it  is,"  she  said  to  herself;  ''  it 
is  usin'  me  up  iiitirely.  I'll  jist  go  an'  have  a  bit  av  a 
walk." 

Accordingly  she  issued  forth,  and  walked  slowly  dou  n 
Lincoln  Street  toward  the  Albany  Station.  The  air  was 
stifling,  and  as  Bridget  reached  the  corner  she  saw  the 
groups  of  belated  people  hurrying  out  to  the  Newtons  and 
Wellesley,  where  they  might  cool  themselves  in  the  purr 
air,  with  whatever  means  of  comfort  money  could  pur- 
chase. 

Edith  Moreton.  and  Bridget  Flanagan  both  reflected 
upon  this  as  they  unconsciously  drew  nearer  and  nearer 
together.  Edith  was  tired,  and  was  beginning  to  look  for 
a  horse-car  to  take  her  to  her  aunt's  house.  The  little 
Irish  girl  had  turned  and  left  her  "Palace"  until  she  \\as 
now  near  the  head  of  Summer  Street. 

Ten  steps  further,  and  they  met  upon  the  corner,  with 
the  great  gilded  eagle's  wings  outstretched  above  their 
heads.  Both  paused  for  a  moment.  Edith  was  dressed  as 
she  had  been  in  the  boat — all  in  white,  with  a  pretty  fluf- 
fy ostrich  feather  curving  around  her  broad  straw  hat, 
and  a,  fleecy  shawl  thrown  over  her  shoulders.  Bridget's 
shawl  was  not  fleecy,  and  her  dress  was  not  white.  Nor 
did  she  wear  lawn  shoes. 

What  either  would  have  said  I  do  not  know.  Perhaps 
nothing.  But  at  that  moment  something  happened. 

"Look  o'  that!"  cried  Bridget. 

"See!"  cried  Edith  at  the  same  moment;  and  they  both 
pointed  to  the  third  story  of  a  high  granite  block  across 
the  street.  One  of  the  windows  was  slightly  open,  and 
through  this  narrow  space'  a  delicate  curl  of  blue  smoke 
floated  softly  out,  laughed  noiselessly  to  itself,  and  disap- 
peared. Another  puff  of  smoke,  and  another;  then  a 
steadj*  stream,  growing  blacker  and  larger  every  mo- 
ment. 

It  was  in  vain  that  the  maid  urged  her  to  come  along. 
Edith  only  stood  still,  wringing  her  hands  and  crying  out, 
'•  What  shall  we  do?  it's  all  on  fire,  and  nobody  knows." 
Instinctively  she  looked  at  Bridget  for  an  answer.  Some- 
how the  difference  between  herself  and  the  ragged  little 
Irish  girl  did  not  seem  so  great  just  then. 

The  fire  had  broken  out  near  the  place  where  the  great 
fire  of  1872  started.  Each  of  the  girls  could  remember 
dimly  that  awful  night  of  red  skies  and  glittering  steeples. 
The  massive  blocks  had  been  rebuilt,  business  had  rolled 
through  the  streets  once  more,  property  of  value  untold 
lay  piled  away  in  those  great  warehouses  on  every  side, 
and  only  these  two  slender,  wide-eyed  girls  knew  of  that 
ugly  black  smoke,  with  its  gleaming  tongues  of  flame, 
gliding  about  over  counter  and  shelf. 

"Sure  we  must  give  the  alar-r-m,"  said  Bridget,  hur- 
riedly, gathering  the  faded  shawl  about  her  neck. 

"  But  I  don't  know  how.     Do  you  ?" 

"  Don't  I  ?     You  jist  come  along  wid  me — run,  now  !'' 

They  almost  flew  down  the  street,  dainty  shoes  and 
bare  brown  feet  side  by  side. 


"Here's  the  box,"  panted  Bridget,  pausing  suddenly  be- 
1  fore  an  iron  box  attached  to  a  telegraph  pole.         I  'an  yer 
read  where  it  says  the  key  is  .'" 

Edith  read:  "Key  at  Faxon's  Building,  corner  of  Bed- 
ford and  Summer  streets." 

To  reach  the  corner,  rouse  the  watchman,  snatch  the 
key  from  his  sleepy  hands,  rush  back  again,  and  whisk 
open  the  iron  box  was  the  work  of  two  minutes.  Perfect 
silence  everywhere. 

"Look  a-here.  now."  said  Bridget,  breathlessly,  stand 
ing  oil  tiptoe.  "  I've  seen  'em  do  it." 

She  pulled  the  handle  once,  twice.  Then  they  waited. 
their  hearts  beating  fiercely.  They  were  off  the  travelled 
ways,  and  no  one  passed  by  them.  All  this  time  the 
smoke  was  creeping  up  the  stairways  of  the  lofty  build- 
ing, and  the  red  fire  was  quietly  devouring'  yard  after 
yard  of  wood-work. 

Bridget  raised  her  hand  to  pull  the  lever  for  the  third 
and  last  time.  After  this  there  was  nothing  more  to  do 
but  wait.  Alice  again  urged  Edith  to  come  away,  but 
only  in  vain.  She  drew  closer  to  Bridget,  and  grasped 
her  hand.  Even  Bridget  seemed  dismayed  at  first,  but 
quickly  recovering  herself,  she  half  pushed,  half  drew 
Edith  up  a  flight  of  high  stone  steps  near  by. 

"  Yer'll  git  yer  dress  all  kivered  wid  mud,  if  yer  don't 
kape  out  o'  thestrate,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  away.  "  I'm 
a-goin'  ter  stay  down  an'  tell  'em  where  the  fire  is.  It  says 
soon  them  little  cards." 

"But  the  crowd!  When  they  come  yon  will  get 
hurt." 

"  II in!  I'm  used  to  worse  crowds  nor  ever  you  saw. 
There!  I  hear  'em  now  '." 

As  Edith  listened  there  rose  a  faint,  far-off  rattle  of 
wheels  upon  the  pavement,  mingled  with  a  jangling  sound 
of  gongs  and  horns. 

"It's  the  inline!"  cried  Bridget,  in  great  excitement. 
"  It's  comin' !" 

But  other  things  were  coming  too.  Bridget  had  taken 
her  stand  directly  in  front  of  the  alarm-box,  and  a  stream 
<>f  men  and  boys  who  poured  around  the  corner  jostled 
her  roughly  and  pushed  her  to  and  fro. 

"Come! — come  quick!"  called  Edith,  just  able  to  make 
lierseir  heard  above  the  noise  of  the  crowd.  But  Bridget 
shook  her  head,  and  pointed  down  the  street. 

It  was  a  grand  sight  :  the  engine,  with  its  scarlet  wheels, 
and  its  polished  stack  sending  out  a  long  trail  of  brilliant 
sparks  like  shooting-stars,  the  two  powerful  black  horses 
tearing  furiously  over  the  pavements,  yet  subject  to  the 
slightest  word  or  touch  of  their  driver,  who  sat  behind 
them  firmly  braced  against  the  foot-board,  the  reins  taut 
as  steel,  and  the  gong  sounding  beneath  without  pause. 

"Get  out  of  the  way  here!"  shouted  a  brisk  fireman, 
forcing  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

The  men  surged  back,  and  nobody  noticed  the  little 
barefooted  figure  who  was  hurled  violently  against  the 
building.  She  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and  held  up  one  foot, 
as  a  lame  spaniel  might  do.  A  young  man  with  delicate 
clothes  and  a  light  cane,  who  had  stopped  on  his  way  to 
the  station  to  "see  the  fun,"  had  placed  his  heavy  boot  on 
the  little,  shrinking  foot.  She  might  have  got  out  of  the 
way  more  quickly,  but  she  must  keep  to  the  front  to  tell 
the  firemen. 

The  engine  thundered  up  to  the  box  and  stopped,  hiss- 
ing and  smoking  furiously.  The  black  horses  quivered 
and  pawed  the  pavement,  shaking  white  flecks  of  foam 
over  their  sleek  bodies. 

"Where's  the  fire?"  called  the  driver,  sharply. 

"Blest  if  I  know — "  began  one  of  the  men  addressed, 
but  he  was  interrupted. 

"  Sure  it's  on  Summer  Street,  sir,  'most  up  to  Washing- 
ton, on  the  other  side." 

It  was  a  surprisingly  small,  shrill  voice  for  such  an  im- 
portant piece  of  information,  but  it  sounded  reliable.  The 


664 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


driver  knew  that  every  moment  now  might  mean  the  loss 
of  thousands  of  dollars,  and.  gi  ving  his  horses  the  rein,  was 
o-alloping  off  up  the  street  again,  almost  before  Bridgets 
words  were  out  of  her  mouth.  A  few  moments  after,  the 
panting  engine  and  the  distant  shouts  of  the  firemen  told 
of  the  work  they  were  doing. 

Well,  the  block  was  saved.  A  few  thousand  dollars' 
damage  on  goods  fully  insured  was  all.  Next  morning 
the  papers,  being  somewhat  hard  pressed  for  news,  gave 
"full  particulars"  of  the  fire.  "Five  minutes  later,  and 
the  loss  must  have  been  almost  incalculable." 

"Full  particulars?"     Perhaps  not  quite  full.      No  re- 


'WHERE'S    THE    FIRE?'   CALLED   THE    DRIVER,  SHARPLY." 


porter  had  heard  of  Bridget's  prompt  action  or  secured  her 
name. 

When  the  engine  rattled  away,  with  the  crowd  after  it, 
Kdith  had  come  timidly  down  the  steps.  Alice  had  been 
borne  away  by  the  crowd,  and  was  not  to  be  found. 

"Where  are  you?"  she  called.  "I  do  not  know 
your  name  —  oh-h  !"  She  stopped  with  a  pitiful  little 
cry. 

Bridget  was  crouched  in  a  miserable  heap  just  around 
the  corner.  She  was  stroking  her  bruised  foot  with  trem- 
bling hands,  and  crying  softly  to  herself.  The  pain  was 
w i  bad,  and  her  head  felt  so  dizzy! 

Then  she  looked  up,  and  saw  the  white  shawl  and  the 


ostrich  feather,  and  Edith's  eyes.  And  once  more  Edith 
forgot  the  difference. 

A  policeman  found  them  there  a  few  minutes  later. 
Edith  had  her  arms  around  the  faded  shawl,  and  Bridget's 
tously  little  head  was  lying  wearily  against  her  shoulder. 
The  poor  Irani  pled  foot  was  bound  up  in  somebody's  em- 
broidered handkerchief. 

Edith  did  not  give  the  officer  time  to  speak.  She  was 
on  her  own  ground  now. 

"Will  you  call  a  hack  or  a  Herdic,  please?     This  girl  is 

sick." 

The  tone  was  quiet,  but  plainly  said  that  it  was  accus- 
tomed to  giving  directions,  and  having  them  obeyed,  too. 

The  policeman  had 
approached  with  a  rough 
joke  on  his  tongue's  end. 
but  it  turned  into  a  re- 
spectful "  Yes'm,  cer- 
tainly." 

Of  course  they  went 
straight  to  Aunt  Augus- 
ta, who  was  still  sitting 
by  the  window,  and  who 
was  si)  used  to  emergen- 
cies that  she  took  the 
whole  affair  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

Bridget  was  promptly 
put  to  bed  in  one  of  the 
servant's  rooms,  and 
Aunt  Augusta's  own 
maid  installed  as  nurse. 
In  the  course  of  a  few 
days  the  injured  foot 
was  all  right,  and  Aunt 
Augusta  had  learned 
her  whole  history. 
She  found  out  that 
Bridget  had  110  father  or 
mother,  but  lived  with 
an  uncle,  who  took  turns 
with  her  brother  in  the 
Criminal  Court.  Even 
Bridget  might  have  tak- 
en her  turn  before  long 
if  she  had  been  left  to 
herself.  Aunt  Augusta 
had  a  good  long  talk 
with  Bridget ;  and  know- 
ing of  a  place  in  New 
Hampshire  where  the 
air  is  sweet  and  pure, 
and  where  the  great 
hills  hold  a  little  vil- 
lage in  their  everlasting 
arms,  she  sent  Bridget 
there  to  find  a  home. 

Edith  returned  to 
the  hotel,  and  was  pro- 
nounced more  singular 


than  ever.  She  found  friends  enough  that  were  interest- 
ed in  her  adventure,  but  very  few  who  cared  to  hear 
much  about  Bridget  or  the  part  she  took  in  it.  Bridget 
was  not  "interesting";  it  required  Edith,  with  her  white 
dress,  and  sunny  hair  half  hidden  by  the  long  white 
feather,  to  figure  as  a  "  heroine." 

But  neither  Edith  nor  Aunt  Augusta  forgot  Bridget. 
She  writes  to  them  frequently  from  her  new  home ;  and 
when  Edith  hears  people  like  Cousin  John  talk  about  the 
"difference"  between  these  people  and  themselves,  she 
thinks  of  one  girl  whose  ragged  shawl  and  tattered  dress 
hid  as  true  and  noble  and  self-sacrificing  a  heart  as  ever 
beat  beneath  velvet  and  lace. 


AUGUST  21,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


665 


o        9 


o 
w 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


HOW  TO  FORM  A  BASE-BALL  OR  TENNIS  CLUB. 

BY  A  CLUB  SECRETARY. 

AMONG  the  many  pleasures  of  the  summer  season  not 
the  least  are  the  delightful  out-door  games  such  as 
base-ball  and  lawn  tennis,  archery  and  croquet,  golf  and 
bowls,  bicycling  and  tricycling,  and  a  dozen  others  that  we 
have  not  space  to  mention.  It  is  probahle,  therefore,  that 
a  few  suggestions  for  the  formation  of  a  base-hall  or  lawn 
tennis-club,  and  a  few  hints  for  its  after-management,  will 
be  of  general  interest,  more  especially  when  it  is  borne  in 
mind  that  most  of  the  suggestions  and  directions  here 
given  apply  equally  well  in  the  case  of  any  other  club — 
archery,  bicycle,  or  what  not. 

Should  there  be  a  desire  for  a  base-ball  club  in  any  vil- 
lage or  district,  it  must  be  started  by  one  or  two  energetic 
boys,  who  will  not  hesitate  to  devote  considerable  time 
and  trouble  to  the  business.  These  promoters  should  col- 
lect the  names  of  all  those  who  are  likely  to  be  active 
playing  members;  they  should  make  all  inquiries  as  to 
suitable  playing  grounds,  and  they  should  be  prepared 
with  all  necessary  information  as  to  probable  income  and 
expenses. 

Thus  prepared,  a  preliminary  meeting  of  those  who  are 
likely  to  be  strong  supporters  of  the  club  should  be  called ; 
and  at  this  meeting  a  code  of  rules  should  be  drawn  up; 
two  or  three  names  for  the  club  should  be  selected;  the 
question  of  ground  should  be  fully  considered,  and  the 
amount  of  entrance  fee  and  annual  subscription  decided  ; 
upon.  Then  all  is  ready  for  the  first  general  meeting,  to 
which  all  who  are  likely  to  take  an  interest  in  the  club 
should  be  invited. 

At  the  general  meeting  the  first  business,  after  the  elec-  j 
tion  of  a  chairman  for  the  evening,  should  be  to  call  upon  I 
one  of  the  promoters  to  state  the  objects  for  which  those 
present  have  been  called  together,  and  this  speaker  should 
conclude  by  introducing  the  question  of  the  most  suitable 
ground. 

This  is  a  very  important  matter,  as  upon  its  cost  will 
depend  largely  the  amount  of  the  annual  subscription  for 
each  individual  member,  and  the  prospects  of  the  success- 
ful launching  of  the  club.  It  may  sometimes  happen,  that 
a  piece  of  waste  or  common  land  is  available  for  the  pur- 
pose, or  that  a  land-owner  in  the  district  is  willing  to  lend 
a  portion  of  a  field  free  of  charge.  Under  such  circum- 
stances the  only  expenses  in  connection  with  the  ground 
will  be  those  of  levelling,  rolling,  and  cutting  the  grass, 
and  a  very  moderate  subscription  will  be  sufficient.  But 
if  it  be  necessary  to  hire  a  field,  an  entrance  fee  of  five  dol- 
lars and  a  yearly  subscription  of  the  same  amount  will 
certainly  be  required,  even  if  the  number  of  members  be 
large. 

In  order  to  settle  the  amount  of  the  entrance  fee,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  members'  subscriptions  should 
l)e  retained  to  meet  current  expenses  only,  and  that  all 
first  expenses — the  preparation  of  the  ground,  the  pur- 
chase of  tents,  nets,  bats,  etc. — should  be  paid  Out  of  the 
entrance  fees  and  any  special  donations  received'  for  the 
purpose. 

Having  fixed  upon  a  suitable  ground,  and  having  settled 
the  financial  business,  the  next  step  should  be  to  determine 
upon  the  name  of  the  club,  and  with  regard  to  this  one 
hint  only  can  be  given.  If  another  club  of  the  name  be 
not  already  in  the  field,  it  is  wisest  to  select  the  name  of 
the  village  or  town  in  which  the  majority  of  the  members 
reside;  thus,  if  the  meeting  be  called  at  Plaiufield,  let  the 
club  be  known  as  ''The  1'lainlield  Base-ball  Club.''  But  if 
for  any  reason  a  local  name  is  not  available,  then  choose 
some  very  simple  distinguishing  word,  avoiding  anything 
of  a  comic  or  eccentric  character;  and  at  the  same  time  be 
careful  to  discover  whether  your  name  has  been  previously 
appropriated  or  not. 

The  question  of  name  suggests  that  of  colors,  which 


should  next  be  determined  upon.  Some  clubs  prefer  that 
their  members  wear  white  flannels,  and  never  any  colors; 
still,  it  is  as  wel  1  that  something  distinctive  should  be  worn, 
whether  it  be  a  cap  or  sash  or  coat.  Moreover,  the  flags 
should  hear  the  club  colors.  In  making  the  choice,  how- 
ever, it  is  well  to  err  on  the  side  of  simplicity,  and  to  avoid 
colors  which  have  already  been  selected  by  neighboring  or 
well-known  clubs. 

And  now  some  very  important  business  should  follow 
—the  election  of  officers.  First  of  all,  it  will  be  well  to 
elect  a  president  and  vice-president;  these  should  be  boys 
of  some  position,  who  are  likely  to  take  a  deep  interest  in 
the  welfare  of  the  club  and  to  introduce  new  members. 
These  two  officers  will,  of  course,  be,  by  virtue  of  their 
office,  members  of  the  committee,  but  their  duties  will 
consist  merely  in  presiding  at  meetings,  dinners,  etc. 

The  captain  should  stand  first  011  the  list  of  the  working 
officers,  and  he  should  be  chosen  mainly  on  account  of  his 
skill  at  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the  game.  But  be- 
yond this  he  should  possess  a  large  amount  of  tact,  and 
self-control;  he  should  know  something  of  his  fellow- 
members  and  of  their  capabilities,  and  lie  should  be  re- 
spected by  those  whom  he  is  called  upon  to  lead. 

Next  should  come  the  secretary,  upon  whom  it  will 
chiefly  depend  whether  the  club  shall  he  a  success  or 
failure.  It  does  not  matter  about  his  being  a  good  play- 
er, but  he  must  he  an  enthusiast  at  the  game,  and  must 
love  his  work,  for  assuredly  he  will  have  plenty  to  do. 
Upon  him  will  devolve  all  the  little  details  of  the  club 
management,  the  arrangement  of  matches,  the  selection 
of  the  players  (in  concert  with  the  captain),  the  care  of 
the  ground,  the  calling  of  meetings,  etc.  Of  all  the  offi- 
cers, then,  it  is  most  important  that  the  secretary  should 
be  the  right  man  in  the  right  place. 

The  treasurer  should  next  be  elected;  but  his  duties  are 
light,  and  it  should  not  be  difficult  to  find  a  trustworthy 
member  for  this  post.  To  him  it  will  fall  to  collect  dona- 
tions, entrance  fees,  and  subscriptions,  and  to  pay  all  ac- 
counts, which  should  first  he  passed  by  the  secretary  or 
the  committee. 

The  committee  should  be  from  five  to  ten  in  number, 
and  in  them,  together  with  the  officers,  should  vest  the 
election  of  new  members,  and  the  settlement  of  all  im- 
portant business.  When  once  the  committee  and  the  offi- 
cers are  elected,  the  general  body  of  members  should  cease 
to  have  any  voice  in  the  management. 

If  the  club  be  a  large  one,  and  can  afford  it,  a  ground 
man  should  be  engaged  for  the  season,  both  to  look  after 
the  ground,  the  rolling,  etc.,  and  to  act  as  professional 
pitcher  at  practice,  and  as  umpire  in  matches.  Too  many 
liabilities,  however,  should  not  be  incurred  at  first,  as  no- 
thing is  so  damaging  to  a  club  as  to  be  in  debt. 

It  is  frequently  the  case  that  two  clubs  can  be  formed 
in  connection  with  each  other,  as,  for  instance,  a  tennis 
and  a  base-ball  club,  part  of  the  base-ball  field  being  mark- 
ed out  for  tennis  courts.  In  this  case  there  should  be  two 
classes  of  subscribers— members  of  the  base-ball  club,  and 
non -members;  and  the  subscription  of  this  last  class 
should  be  double  that  of  the  former;  or  one  subscription 
might  cover  both  base-ball  and  lawn  tennis,  and  the  sis- 
ters and  friends  of  members  might  be  admitted  to  play  ten- 
nis free  of  charge. 

The  only  officials  needed  in  a  tennis  club  are  a  secre- 
tary and  a  treasurer,  and  in  the  case  of  a  small  club  the 
two  offices  might  well  be  combined.  In  either  event  the 
duties  can  only  be  light. 

Should  the  club  possess  two  courts,  one  of  these  should 
be  reserved  on  certain  days  of  the  week  for  ladies  only, 
and  on  other  days  for  gentlemen  only.  This  arrange- 
ment allows  some  of  the  best  players  among  the  boys  the 
opportunity  of  a  fast  game  on  certain  occasions,  while  it 
also  provides  a  court  on  fixed  days  for  girls  who  are  new 
to  the  game. 


AUGUST  21,  ISSS. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


667 


The  rules  of  the  club  should  contain  one  relative  to 
single  handed  sets,  should  members  require  a  court  for  the 
purpose,  and  one  fixing  the  number  of  sets  any  quartette 
may  phiy  when  other  members  are  waiting  for  a  game. 

The  nets  and  marking  apparatus  alone  should  be  fur- 
nished by  the  club;  the  rackets  and— if  it  can  be  so  ar- 
ranged—the balls  should  be  supplied  by  the  members 
themselves.  Of  course  when  four  members  play  together 
a  difficulty  may  at  times  arise  as  to  who  shall  bring  the 
balls;  but  this  is  after  all  only  a  matter  of  arrangement, 
and  when  the  club  declines  to  provide  balls  it  gains  one 
great  advantage  —  it  can  not  lour  UHI/.  Any  one  who 
knows  how  easy  it  is  to  lose  a  do/.en  balls  in  one  after- 
noon at  tennis  will  recognize  the  desirability  of.  at  any  rate, 
making  each  set  of  players  responsible  for  the  balls  they  use. 

From  the  fact  that  the  game  may  lie  pla\ed  by  only 
two,  three,  or  four  players,  a  lawn  tennis  club  is  one  of 
the  easiest  to  start,  and  maycompi-i.se  a  very  limited  num- 
ber of  players.  Moreover,  when  once  the  ground  is  ob- 
tained the  expenses  are  very  small,  and  the  pleasure  de- 
rived is  far  in  excess  of  the  outlay.  Seeing,  then,  what  a 
very  healthful  exercise  lawn  tennis  is  for  young  people  of 
both  sexes,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  lawn  tennis  clubs  may  spring  up  and  prosper  all  over 
the  country. 

The  tennis  court  might  be  made  of  asphalt,  with  a  view 
In  erecting  a  light  wooden  structure  over  the  court  for 
play  during  the  winter  months. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.* 

BY     MRS.    "VV.    .T.    H-A.Y&!, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  PRINCESS  IDLEWAYS."  "Pmi.V  I'\IKII~."  KT<  . 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LE<")  tried  to  go  to  sleep;  but  after  doing  everything  he 
could  think  of.  such  as  imagining  a  Hock  of  sheep 
.jumping  a  fence,  and  counting  a  hundred  backward  and 
forward,  he  gave  it  up  as  useless.  All  the  strange  things 
he  had  seen  would  come  back,  and  his  eyelids  were  like 
little  spring  doors  that  bobbed  open  in  spite  of  his  attempts 
to  close  them.  As  they  lifted  for  the  hundredth  time  he 
saw  Paz  doubled  up  in  a  heap,  with  his  knees  drawn  up  to 
his  chin,  his  elbows  resting  oil  them,  and  his  face  in  his 
hands.  He  was  intently  watching  Leo. 

"  I  lallo!"  said  Leo,  "can't  you  go  to  sleep  either?'' 

"No  need  at  present." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  was  going  through  a  formula  in  D." 

"  What  under  the  sun.  is  that?" 

"Something  relating  to  my  pursuits, 
yourself  to  try  and  find  out  everything. 
Master  Knops  has  crammed  you  too  hard, 
say  to  my  telling  you  a  story  or  two  ?" 

"  Splendid  !     I'm  ready  when  you  are." 

"No.  you  are  not:  you're  hungry.  You  must  have  a 
bite  first;  what  shall  it  be?  Oh.  no  matter:  I'll  get  you 
something  if  you  promise  not  to  ask  any  questions." 

'•  All  right,"  said  Leo,  inwardly  cringing  at  the  thought 
of  stuffed  rats. 

Paz  was  gone  but  a  little  while.  When  he  came  back  he 
was  carrying  a  basket,  from  which  he  produced  a  small 
flask  of  a  very  sweet  fruity  syrup,  a  dish  of  something 
that  looked  like  little  fish  swimming-  in  golden  jelly — salt 
and  savory  Leo  found  them — and  a  sort  of  salad  garnished 
with  tiny  eggs.  These  were  followed  by  nuts  of  a  pecul- 
iar ilavor,  and  small  fruits  as  exquisite  to  look  at  as  they 
were  delicious  to  taste. 

When  Leo  had  done  ample  justice  to  all  these  things  Paz 
looked  relieved,  as  if  he  had  feared  they  might  not  suit. 


Don't  trouble 

In  my  opinion 

What  do  vou 


*  Begun  in  No.  l'.).j  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"Never  ate  anything  better  in  my  life."  said  Leo. 

' '  I  am  glad  to  hear  it :  tastes  differ  so.  Now  these  things 
come  from  all  parts  of  the  world — the  fish  from  Spain,  the 
eggs  from  Africa,  the  nuts  from  Italy,  the  fruits  from 
France,  and  the  syrup  from  Portugal." 

"Oh  dear!"  said  Leo,  wondering  how  their  freshness 
was  preserved. 

"Yes.  I  suppose  you  have  no  idea  of  our  canning  busi- 
ness." 

"None  in  the  world." 

"I  presumed  as  much,"  said  Pa/,  wisely,  "nor  am  I 
going  to  bore  you  with  any  more  information." 

Leo  looked  quite  shocked. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Paz,  profoundly.  "  there's  a  limit  to  all 
things,  and  I'm  not  a  Knops." 

"But  have  you  been  to  all  parts  of  the  world?"  asked 
Leo. 

"Oh  yes."  answered  Paz,  carelessly.  "I  have  wan- 
dered far  and  wide  in  my  time.  Until  I  caught  the 
diamond  fever  I  wa.-  used  as  an  envoy." 

"Indeed!"  said  Leo,  having  but  a  faint  idea  of  what 
an  envoy  was.  "  What  did  you  do  ?" 

"I  went  on  errands  of  importance." 

"  Who  for,  and  where  did  you  go  ;" 

"  I  was  sent  generally  to  carry  messages  from  our  King 
to  the  Queen  of  the  Wind  Fairies,  or  the  Herb  Elves,  or 
the  Sylphs,  sometimes  to  warn  them  of  trouble  or  dan- 
ger, sometimes  to  tell  them  that  imps  were  rampaging 
or  giants  were  about  to  make  war,  but  oftener  to  inform 
them  of  some  plan  for  assisting  man,  or  some  good  to  be 
done  for  a  child:  in  these  things  we  delight." 

' '  How  kind !"  said  Leo. 

"  Kindness  has  so  much  power,  if  people  only  knew  it. 
But  you  are  waiting:  I  must  not  detain  you."  So.  with- 
out further  preface,  thus  began 

PAZ'S  STORY. 

It  was  a  time  of  trouble  to  mankind — a  year  of  strange 
events,  and  yet  so  stupid  are  ordinary  mortals — begging 
your  pardon — that  none  were  making  preparations  either 
to  meet  or  to  avoid  disaster.  The  King  of  the  Kobolds 
had  been  negotiating  with  our  King  for  the  purchase  of 
some  immense  tracts  of  iron  ore,  and  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation said  he  had  received  news  from  Italy  that  there 
would  soon  be  a  volcanic  outbreak,  that  the  giants  there 
were  quarrelling  fiercely,  and  had  not  hesitated  to  declare 
that  unless  matters  were  arranged  to  suit  them  they 
would  bid  Vesuvius  pour  forth  its  death-dealing  fires. 

Now  on  the  side  of  that  well-known  mountain  were 
living  some  friends  of  our  King  —  two  children,  a  girl 
and  a  boy,  Tessa  and  Tasso,  daughter  and  son  of  an 
Italian  peasant. 

In  their  little  vineyard  one  day  our  King's  son,  an 
infant,  was  swinging  in  his  leafy  cradle;  it  looked  like  a 
bird's  nest,  and  so  I  suppose  they  thought  it,  but  a  rude 
playmate  of  theirs  tried  to  tear  it  down  from  its  airy 
h  eight,  and  would  have  succeeded  had  not  both  Tessa  and 
Tasso  resolutely  opposed  him. 

First  they  sought  to  make  him  stop  by  appealing  to 
his  feelings,  asking  him  how  he  would  like  to  have  his 
cottage  ruined,  his  home  desolated;  but  at  this  he  oiily 
mocked  and  jeered.  Then  they  urged  that  birds  had  the 
same  right  to  live  and  rear  their  young  as  had  human  be- 
ings, which  having  no  more  effect,  they  openly  forbade 
his  attempt,  saying  that  the  ground  was  theirs,  the  birds 
were  their  friends,  and  they  should  defend  them.  Blows 
followed,  Tessa  and  Tasso  bearing  their  part  bravely,  and 
compelling  the  young  ruffian  to  take  himself  off.  Little 
did  they  know  whom  they  were  defending. 

Our  King  heard  of  the  occurrence,  and  vowed  unending 
friendship,  so  when  the  King  of  the  Kobolds  told  him  of 
the  danger  impending  at  Vesuvius  I  was  at  once  sent  for 
to  convey  the  information,  and  do  what  I  could  to  save 


€68 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"VESUVIUS    WAS    POUIUNG    FoKTII    LAVA." 

the  lives  of  Tessa  and  Tasso.  It  took  but  a  whiff  of  my 
pipe  to  bring  me  to  the  desired  place,  but  so  calm  and 
"bright  and  peaceful  was  the  scene  that  I  found  it  hard  to 
Relieve  in  the  threatening  evil.  Never  had  I  seen  a  bluer 
sky  reflected  in  a  more  silvery  mirror  than  were  the  clouds 
and  bay  of  Naples  that  day.  Tbe  people  were  merry  and 
•careless,  tending  their  cattle,  gathering  their  fruit,  sing- 
ing their  songs,  and  as  indifferent  to  their  old  enemy  as  if 
he  had  never  harmed  them. 

How  should  I  approach  the  object  of  my  mission  ?  how 
put  fear  into  the  hearts  of  joyous  innocence?  Their  fa- 
ther had  bidden  them  go  to  the  city  with  a  load  of  oranges. 
These  were  to  be  conveyed  in  large  baskets,  or  panniers,  on 
the  back  of  a  faithful  donkey.  If  I  could  keep  them  away 
from  home,  delay  them  by  some  pretext  from"  returning 
for  at  least  a  day,  I  might  aid  them'.  So  with  this  deter- 
mination I  proceeded  to  act. 

At  every  place  or  with  every  person  to  whom  they  of- 
fered their  fruit  I  wh  ispcred  objections,  asked  if  their  prices 
were  not  very  high,  or  if  tbe  fruit  were  not  picked  too  ear- 
ly. So  well  did  I  succeed  that  I  had  nearly  upset  my  own 
plans,  for  poor  Tessa,  becoming  discouraged,  wanted  to 
return  home  at  once,  but  Tasso  stoutly  declared  lie  would 
sell  every  orange  before  going  back— that  his  fruit  was 
good  and  ripe,  and  it  should  be  appreciated.  I  was  pain- 
ed to  see  Tessa's  tears,  but  what  could  I  do  ?  Already  thick 
smoke  was  pouring  down  the  mountain's  side,  and  so  many 
were  the  rumbling  sounds  that  although  these  children 
were  accustomed  to  such  disturbances,  fears  began  to  as- 
sail them. 

They  were  now  well  away  from  home,  and  had  paused 
at  the  road-side  to  eat  their  bread  and  cheese.  People 


were  becoming  unusually  numerous.  Excitement  was 
prevailing,  and  Tessa  saw  with  alarm  women  and  chil- 
dren hurrying  past.  At  that  moment  a  travelling  carriage 
appeared.  One  could  see  at  a  glance  from  its  neat  com- 
pactness that  it  was  English.  I  put  my  head  in  the  win- 
dow, and  whispered  something.  At  once  a  gray-haired 
lady  leaned  out,  and  beckoned  to  Tessa,  who  tremblingly 
obeyed. 

"My  child,"  said  the  lady,  kindly,  "I  want  some  or- 
anges. Can  you  give  them  to  me  quickly  ?  You  know 
we  have  no  time  to  spare." 

"  Yes,  madame,"  said  Tessa.  "But  what  is  the  matter  ? 
You  and  every  one  look  so  anxious." 

Instantly,  as  she  spoke,  there  was  a  terrible  quivering 
of  the  earth,  which  made  every  one  shudder.  The  driver 
could  scarcely  hold  his  horses;  they  plunged  and  reared 
and  trembled. 

"Ah!  we  can  not  wait, "said  the  lady;  but  seeing  the 
terrified  looks  of  the  children,  she  paused  to  ask,  "Are  you 
children  alone  ?" 

"  Entirely  so,  signorina." 
"And  where  are  you  going  ?" 
"  Home,  to  the  mountain." 

"You  can  not  go  there;  it  is  too  late."  Then  with  a 
sudden  resolution  she  turned  to  the  maid  beside  her.  "We 
will  take  them  with  us;  their  load  is  too  heavy  for  them 
to  get  on  fast  enough.  Quick,  quick.  Leave  your  donkey ; 
he  is  tired ;  every  one  is  so  frightened  he  will  not  be  stolen 
if  lie  escapes.  Come  in  here,"  pushing  open  the  carriage 
door. 

Tessa  turned  irresolutely  to  Tasso,  who  was  also  uncer- 
tain what  to  do ;  but  the  tone  was  imperative ;  they  were 
accustomed  to  obey.  Crowds  were  now  jostling  them ; 
women  were  crying;  children  were  pushed  hither  and 
thither,  their  little  toys  trodden  under  foot,  more  a  griev- 
ance to  them  than  the  quaking  earth.  With  a  regretful 
glance  at  the  donkey  Tessa  and  Tasso  jumped  into  the 
carriage,  which  drove  away  as  fast  as  the  frightened 
horses  could  get  through  the  throng.  Miles  and  miles 
away  they  went  until  the  horses  could  go  no  farther. 
Then  they  stopped  for  the  night  at  a  little  inn  overflow- 
ing with  strangers,  where  they  heard  that  Vesuvius  was 
pouring  forth  lava,  and  where  they  could  see  the  lurid 
glare  of  its  flames  reddening  the  evening  sky.  They 
were  saved.  My  mission  was  fulfilled. 

Paz  stopped;  but  Leo  was  unsatisfied. 

"And  what  became  of  them  ?  Did  they  ever  go  home 
again  ?  Were  their  father  and  mother  killed  ?" 

"No;  their  parents  escaped,  but  their  home  was  buried 
in  ashes.  The  children  were  cared  for  by  the  English 
lady  until  it  was  safe  to  return.  All  that  was  left  them 
was  the  one  poor  donkey  which,  unharmed,  strayed  back  to 
the  place  of  its  past  abode,  and  with  it  they  began  a  trade 
in  lava  which  proved  very  remunerative." 

"Trade  in  lava  ?"  repeated  Leo,  inquisitively. 

"Yes;  the  people  pour  the  melted  lava  in  moulds  be- 
fore it  cools,  and  so  fashion  ornaments  out  of  it — perhaps 
they  also  carve  it.  I  know  they  color  it  beautifully,  for 
I  have  had  to  carry  bracelets  made  of  it  to  various  people 
with  whom  we  are  on  friendly  terms,  and  they  were  blue 
as  a  bird's  egg  or  turquoise."' 

"  How  curious!" 

"  No ;  they  were  not  remarkable,  not  half  as  singular  as 
coral  formations." 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Don't  tell  me  you  know  nothing  of  coral  ?" 

"  I  believe  I  have  seen  it,  but  that  is  all." 

"Coral  is  made  by  wonderful  little  animals  who  live 
and  die  in  its  cells  until  their  structures  are  big  enough  for 
islands ;  but  I  will  leave  that  to  Knops :  my  plan  is  not  to 
cram." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


AUGUST  21,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


669 


A  BOY  WITH  BRIGHT  IDEAS. 
BY  KIRK  MUXROE. 

§next  idea  was 
To  tie  a  balloon 
( )n  each  of  his  feet, 
And  walk  to  the  moon. 


But  again  his  feet  went  up 
And  his  head  went  down, 

And  thus  he  hung 
High  over  the  town, 

Until  papa  sent  a  bullet 

Through  each  balloon  plump, 

And  brought  his  dear  boy 
To  the  ground  with  a  thump. 


670 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


The  brook  runs  through  the  farm,  my  boys 

A  merry  brook,  they  say— 
Beside  its  banks  the  children  stroll. 

And  there  for  hours  they  play. 
And  in  that  brook  Eugene  and  fcd 

\\  ent  fishing  one  whole  day. 

KllL'ene    he    stood    Upon    one    side-. 

\nd  Ed  upon  the  other; 
Eugene  lie  had  a  brand-new  line. 

And  Ed  he  had  another; 
Eugene  was  quite  a  fisherman. 

And  so  was  Kd  his  brother. 

I  low  many  fish  they  caught  that  day 

I  do  not  dare  to  tell. 
But  in  that  little  brook  were  found 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

SCHOOLRY'S    M<H--.TM\,   N'KVV   .1  >        El 

I  am  nine  years  old  to-day.     I  got  a  pencil,  a 

k   a  check,  a  game  of  Crescent,  and  a  bottle 

M|'  perfumery.  I  have  got  a  litile  baby  brother 
seven  months  old,  and  a  big  brother  ten  years 
old  My  big  brother  has  a  cat  that  he  picked  up 
coming  from  school,  thin  as  a  rail  when  lie  first 
g.it  her.  but  now  she  is  fat.  She  is  two  years 
old.  and  a  great  big  cat,  too.  We  fed  her  on  milk 
at  first,  bur  now  we  feed  her  on  meat.  When 
my  brother  first  found  her  she  did  not  have  any 
teeth— that's  the  reason  we  fed  her  on  milk  ;  but 
now  she  has  teeth,  and  that's  the  reason  we  feed 
her  on  meat  and  milk.  Good-by.  From 

I  don't  know  whether  or  not  my  small  corre- 
spondent took  very  great  pains,  but  there  was 
not  one  word  misspelled  in  this  nice  little  letter, 
whieh  is  very  good  indeed  from  a  person  who  had 
just  reached  the  age  of  nine.  It  is  a  very  good 
idea,  by-the-way,  to  celebrate  your  birthday  by 
writing  to  the  Post-office  Box. 


FISHING    IN   THE  BROOK. 

Not  trout  nor  pickerel: 
Perhaps  a  cat -fish  now  and  then. 
\Vliieh  answered  just  as  well. 


JlAi.is."..  WISCONSIN. 

I  am  ten  years  old.  and  will  soon  be  eleven.  I 
have  two  sisters— one  nine,  tin-  nther  eighteen. 
I  have  no  pets.  I  had  a  bird  and  a  eat,  and  they 
both  are  dead  now.  Papa  has  taken  Yqi  M.  I'm 
i-i.E  for  us  since  Thanksgiving.  "  Raising  the 
'  Pearl'  "  and  "  In  Honor  Bound"  are  very  good 
stories,  but  I  think  Jimmy  Brown's  are  the  fun- 
niest. I  go  to  school, but  it  is  vacation  now.  1 
take  music  lessons.  We  are  going  camping  out 
next  week.  Your  little  friend,  JENNIE  P. 

"My  bird  is  dead,"  said  Nancy  Ray— 
"My  bird  is  dead;  I  can  not  play. 

lie  sang  so  sweetly  every  day — 
Hu  sings  no  more;  I  can  not  play." 

Did  you  ever  hear  that,  Jennie  ?    Did  you  feel  so 
when  your  birdie  died? 


GALVRSTOX,  TEXAS. 

A  little  over  a  week  ago  I  was  in  Austin  on  a 
visit  to  my  aunt.  I  like  Austin  very  much,  and  I 
wanted  ve,  v  much  to  go  across  the  river,  too,  but 
the  bridge  w  :is  broken,  and  the  ferry  was  being 
repaired.  I  wish  George  !{...]  mi.,  had  been  there 
with  his  PocahontastQTOWnae  across.  'The Beach 
1 1  ot  el  here  is  finished,  and  there  are  a  great  many 
people  in  it.  Yesterday  we  went  to  see  a  lady 
W|IM  boarded  there,  and  I  found  out  that  it  was 
not  only  pretty  on  the  outside,  but  in  the  inside, 
too.  The  bathing  here  is  delightful.  I  could 
\\rite  a  mueli  lonirer  letter  with  pleasure,  but  1 
don't  think  it  wouldbe  published,  and  I  am  afraid 
it  is  too  long  now.  but  I  hope  it  is  not. 

KTIH:I,  T.  S. 

PITCHER  HIIL'SI  ,  l'\«  i  TM;.  \  i:w  YORK. 

MY  DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— I  was  glad  to  see  my 
letter  published,  but  I  was  still  more  pleased  to 
see  the  letter  in  the  Post-office  Box  of  May  H.  It 
was  very  kind  of  the  writer  to  remember  me  so 
long.  I  remember  a  gentleman  on  the  y,w///,/,/ 
who  spoke  to  me  sometimes.  I  think  he  wras 
Air  McConnick.  I  should  like  very  much  to  know 
it  I  am  right.  I  was  very  much  interested  in  the 
story  he  told  in  the  letter.  Is  hi-  the  gentleman 
who  writes  such  interesting  stories  for  YOUNG 
PEOPLE?  I  wanted  to  write  you  before,  but  I 


When  home  Eugene  and  Edwin  came 

They  bore  a  string  of  fish  ; 
The  cook  she  fried  them  crisp  and  brown. 

And  laid  them  in  a  dish. 
And  both  the  boys  had  appetites 

As  good  as  heart  could  wish. 

So  now  this  story  I  relate 

About  one  summer's  day. 
\\  hen  by  the  hmok  two  laddies  brave 

For  hours  were  said  to  stay; 
Is  fishing  iroi'k/  the  question  is, 

Or  would  you  call  it  play? 

have  again  been  ill,  and  though  I  began  a  letter 
several  times,  1  was  never  able  to  finish  it. 

I  am  in  the  country  now.  where  the  mountains 
remind  me  of  the  Vorarlberg  in  Austria,  though 
I  miss  the  lake.  One  winter  we  had  a  great  deal 
of  fun  there.  Lake  Constance  froze  over  for  the 

lir-t  time  in  fifty  years.    The  1 pie  were  wild 

with  delight.  They  had  a  printing-press  which 
printed  a  daily  paper  on  the  ice  all  the  time  it 
remained.  They  had  bontires,  dancing,  ami  a 
carnival.  When  the  ice  broke  up  two  foolish 
men  tried  to  cross  over  to  Lindon.  three  miles 
off,  on  the  pieces,  jumping  from  one  to  anoth- 
er. They  succeeded,  but  nearly  lost  their  lives. 
Though  the  iee  gave  pleasure  to  the  people,  it 
gave  some  trouble  to  the  government,  because 
people  from  Bavaria  were  constantly  smuggling 
goods  across  the  border  on  the  ice,  and  though 
the  police  often  gave  them  chase,  it  was  very 
hard  to  catch  them,  and  they  used  to  return 
breathless  and  panting  after  skating  miles  after 
a  smuggler  who  was  too  expert  to  he  caught. 

The  smugglers  had  been  so  troublesome  that  a 
reward  was  offered  by  the  government  for  their 
a  [.prehension,  and  armed  police  were  stationed 
in  the  woods  and  mountains  day  and  night  to 
catch  them.  One  day  we  boys— Gerald.  Arthur. 
<Vcil,  and  I — were  playing  in  the  woods  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain.  We  heard  steps  eomin" 
near,  and  soon  saw  three  policemen  in  full  chase 
.•i  Her  us.  They  could  not  see  us  ;  they  only  In  aid 
us,  and  thought  we  were  smugulers  \\  e  gave 
them  a  fine  run  up  and  down  the  mountain,  un- 
til we  came  near  our  house,  and  then  we  stood 
still  and  let  them  come  up  to  us.  How  pn  iv<  .ked 
they  were  to  find  they  had  wasted  their  time, 
and,  worse  yet,  had  tired  themselves  out,  chasing 
four  little  boys  who  were  simply  enjoying  a  game 
of  tag!  The  story  got  about  among  the  other 
policemen,  and  they  were  well  joked  and  teased 
about  their  courage  in  chasing  such  "  danger.  us 
enemies  to  the  government,"  as  they  called  us. 

I  wish  I  could  hear  some  more  about  that  little 

fellow  1  lie  gel  It  lemall  Wrote  a  I",  tit   ill   \  Ml   -,..   I'!  ,. 

IM.K.     I  would  like  to  know  one  wl an  bear 

lii-   iKiin  so  well.    Good-by.  dear  Postmistress. 
Your  attached  friend,  JOHN  J    M 

Perhaps  the  friend  who  wrote  that  letter  which 
so  gratified  you  will  answer  this  personally.  The 
Postmistress  has  promised  not  to  reveal  the  se- 
cret, so  she  can  not  even  tell  you  whether  you 
have  guessed  right  or  not.  she  is  very,  very  sor- 
ry you  have  been  ill  again,  dear,  but  expects  that 
one  of  these  days  you  will  be  well. 


BALTIMORE,  MARM.AM.. 

I  wrote  a  letter  once  before,  but  1  did  noi  <  , 
it  in  the  Post -office  I'.ox.  s.i  I  thought  1  would 
write  again.  [  have  no  pets  except  my  little  bro- 
ther,five  weeks  old.  We  have  a  eat  anil  one  lit- 
tle kitten.  We  have  a  horse  named  Billy,  and 
we  had  a  squirrel  w:hich  we  tamed,  and  he  grew 
to  be  such  a  mischief  that  papa  sold  him.  I  shall 
be  t  welve  years  old  in  November.  I  want  to  ei 
how  this  letter  looks  when  prim  ed 

I'AULINE  I. 


BROOKLYN,  NF\V  V.-KK. 

One  day  we  went  crabbing,  and  left  the  basket 
of  crabs  in  the  bath-tub.  Afterward  we  heard  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  on  opening  it  we  saw  two 
policemen  with  clubs  in  their  hands.  They  said 
that  we  had  left  the  front  door  open,  and  there 
might  be  thieves  in  the  house.  Presently  we 


heard  a  scrambling  noise  in  the  bath-room.  The 
policemen  looked  around,  but  found  nothing. 

\llat  e  the\  set  up  a  tremendous  laugh,  and 

what  had  they  seen  but  the  crabs  getting  out  ••( 
tlie  basket  and  crawling  along  on  the  tub?  My 
favorite  authors  are  James  Otis,  Jimmy  Brown, 
and  Oliver  Optic.  .IAMI.S  KM.I  i.  I 

YOUKVII  ii,  ii  1 1\.  i-. 

I  am  a  little  girl  thirteen  years  old.  and  I  have 
taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever  since  it  has  been  print- 
ed. I'apa  publishes  the  county  paper  called  /'//. 
A",  in/iil/  I'liniity  Record.  We  have  a  horse  and 
buggy,  and  I  go  after  papa  and  bring  him  home 
from'the  office.  I  have  a  sister  older  anil  a  bro- 
ther younger  than  myself.  \Ve  have  two  pets— 
a  cat  and  a  dog.  There  is  a  river  back  of  our 
house.,  md  we  go  rowing  on  it. 

FRANKIE  E.  M. 

TI1K  WONDERFUL  APPLE-TUEK. 

There  was  once  a  little  girl  named  May.  She 
was  of  a  i|iiiet  disposition,  perhaps  because  she 
was  left  much  alone,  being  an  only  child,  and 
having  few  playmates  livingnear  her.  one  even- 
ing her  father  told  her  a  story  about  a  IMTSC  that 
lived  when  dragons  could  be  found  on  the  earth. 
and  every  tree  was  a  nice  little  home  fora  fairy. 
The  strange  thing  about  this  horse  was  that  he 
had  wings  Whenever  anybody  wanted  him  he 
would  say.  "Pegasus,  come  here. "and  instantly 
the  beautiful  creature  would  spread  his  wings. 
and  eome  and  take  him  wherever  he  wished  to 
go.  But  it  was  not  everybody  who  could  have 
him.  Only  to  those  w'ho  had  pure.  high,  and 
lofty  thoughts  would  lie  ciime.  In  her  little  room 
May  often  thought  about  this  wonderful  horse. 

"'Oh.  if  only  I  could  have  seen  him  !"she  would 
think;  "if  I  could  but  own  such  a  one  1  l!ut  no; 
a  horse  would  be  too  big  for  me.  I  want  a  deai- 
little  pony.  It  must  be  perfectly  white,  wit  lit  wo 
gauzy  wings,  so  fine  that  when  folded  on  his  back 
no  one  can  see  them,  but  which  spread  will  shine 
with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow.  His  eyes  will 
be  so  bright  that  he  can  see  things  far,  faraway. 
I  shall  call  him  Pegasette.  because  he  is  a  little, 
horse,  and  people  call  a  little  brook  a  brooklet. 
and  a  little  river  a  rivulet." 

May  thought  so  often  about  this  pony  that  at 
last  she  began  to  fancy  the  kind  of  journeys  he 
would  take  her.  Of  course,  having  wings  he 

would  fly 'way  up  in  the  blue  -kv  until  tl arth 

would  look  dark  and  brown  beneath.  Her  fa- 
ther laughed  when  she  told  him  about  her  little 
pony. 

"You  have  been  up  in  the  clouds,  ha\e  you':" 
I      "Pegasus  often  took  his  riders  there.'' 

One  day  May  went  out  into  the  orchard,  and 
sat  down  under  an  apple-tree.  The  sun  was  set 
ting,  and  cast  a  bright  yellow  light  all  around, 
especially.it  seemed  to  May.  on  the  apples,  mak- 
ing them  look  almost  golden. 

'•  I  wonder."  thought  she,  "  if  there  ever  were 
real  golden  apples?" 

Hardly  had  the  fancy  passed  through  her  mind 
when  she  heard  the  flapping  of  wings,  and  beheld 
her  dear  little  Pegasette  close  beside  her. 

"  I  will  take  you  to  the  place  where  all  the  ap 
pies  come  from."  he  said. 

So  away  they  flew,  over  the  fields  and  t  he  e:t  i-  - 
and  the  rivers.  Pegasette  did  not  fly  forward. 
but  backward.  May  asked  him  why  this  was. 
He  answered,  "  I  am  taking  you  into  the  region 
of  Long-ago,  and  so,  of  course,  have  to  go  tar, 

far  hack." 

At  last,  they  came  to  an  island.  In  the  centre 
stood  an  apple-tree.  As  May  came  nearer  she 
could  see  it  was  loaded  with  apples-  golden  ap- 
ples, rosy  apples. and  green  apples 

"From  this  tree,"  said  Pegasette.  "all  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  apples  that  have  ever  existed 
have  come." 

Mav  naturally  picked  a  golden  one  first.  On  it 
was  printed  in  black  letters  "7/i.s.  <./</."  she  cut 
it  open,  and  a  cloud  surrounded  her.  When  it 
had  cleared  away  she  found  herself  on  a  green 
hill  with  three  little  girls  and  a  boy.  A  city  could 
be  seen  in  the  distance.  The  children  did  not 
notice  her,  but  seemed  to  be  quarrelling  among- 
themselves  about  a  golden  apple  the  hoy  held  in 
his  hand. 

"  That  one  with  the  dark  hair,"  said  Pegasette. 
"is  Miss  Juno  Raven-tress  of  the  Peacock  plume. 
See  how  her  dress  is  embroidered  with  peacock 
leathers:  she  is  a  haughty,  proud  girl.  Now- 
thai  light -haired  one  is  better- tempered  :  her 
name  is  Miss  Venus  Rose-tint  of  the  Golden  belt- 
Tin  third  is  somewhat  of  a  tomboy,  as  you  see 
she  dresses  in  a  full  suit  of  mail;  but, like  all 
girls,  she  is  fond  of  pets,  and  will  never  go  out 
without  that  owl.  Her  name  is  Miss  Minerva  ; 
and  though  not  so  pretty  as  her  companions,  she 
knows  more  than  all  the'  rest.  That  hoy  is  Paris, 
the  shepherd,  who  keeps  his  flock  on  this  hill, 
lie  is  to  gi\e  the  apple  to  the  one  he  think--  the 
prettiest." 

Tin'  boy  at  that  moment  handed  the  apple  to 
Miss  Venus.  Miss  Juno  looked  very  angry,  and 
so  did  Miss  Minerva.  Then  words  ran  high,  and 
blows  fell  fast,  until  at  last  the  apple  rolled  down 
the  hill,  and  the  whole  scene  vanished. 

May  passed  by  a  number  of  other  golden  ap- 
ples, and  hastened  to  pick  a  large  red  one  she 
let  it  drop  very  quickly,  however,  when  a  snake 
darted  its  fierce  head  out  of  the  branches. 

"That  apple  has  cost  a  world  of  trouble,"  said 


AUGUST  21,  18S3. 


HAttPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


671 


Pegasette,  "and  is  best  left  alone,  though  the 
ran  >t  one  here,  for  it  is  the  first  apple,  and  the 
one  from  which  all  the  others  have  com*-." 

-MI  Ma\  t  nrned  tier  attention  to  an  insignificant 
green  apple. 

"  Now  that,"  said  Pegasette,  "is  really  about 
the  most  wonderful  apple  here.  A  man  once 
saw  it  fall  from  a  tree.  'Why  does  it  fall?'  lie 
s;iid  to  himself;  'why  don't  things  go  up  instead 
oft  town  ':'  So  he  thought  and  thought,  and  learn- 
ed SO  much  that  he  was  able  to  Tell  people  ever 
so  in  ucli  all*  nit  The  earth,  and  even  the  stars,  am! 
it  all  came  from  tin-  tall  of  that  apple  ;  so,  you  see, 
his  name  •  \c  ,\  TI  m,"  printed  on  it." 

I'euasette  t  hen  Told  her  she  could  take  a  little 
l.al'\  apple  to  her  father.  Then  he  took  her  back 
under  her  own  apple-tree.  The  supper-bell  rang 
;is  t  hey  readied  it  ;  so  during  The  meal  she  toll  I  In  r 
father  about  the  trip,  and  gave  him  the  apple. 
He  opened  it,  and  what  do  you  suppose  was  in- 
side'-' -why,  a  pk.'ture  of  little  May  herself!  He 
laughed  when  he  saw  it.  and  said.  "So  your  fancy 
tells  you  you  are  the  apple  of  my  eye.'1 

Then  May  knew  that  he  knew  what  Pegasette 
was,  ANNIE  F.  HALIMVIN. 

\Ve  have  rarely  printed  a  story  from  a  young 
writer  wiih  which  we  have  been  so  charmed  as 
with  1  1  1  i  -  . 


N'RW  Ynr.K  CITY. 

I»I:\K  POSTMISTRESS.—  Hero  are  some  verses  by 
a  little  girl  in  her  sixth  >•  ar  : 

LITTLE  GOLDEN-HAIR. 

A  littU'  girl  that  was  so  fair, 
With  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair, 
\Vilh  her  pet  sheep  she  stood  there, 
Ami  sang  a  pivtty  song 
All  the  day  long. 

(Hi,  mother  dear.  oh.  do  come  here! 

Your  little  "  lllne  eyes"  is  in  fear; 

Kor  she  was  walking  in  the  wood, 

All  alone  in  t  he  moonlight, 

All  through  the  long  night, 

Longing  for  the  daylight. 

She  saw  the  fairies  dancing  so  gay. 

And  wished  she  could  dance  with  them  all  day. 

Hut  when  the  morn  began  to  break, 

And   the  hinis  began  to  wake. 

Then  the  fairies  were  ;i]l  gone. 

And  Hi  Ik  Golden-hair  did  mourn  and  cry, 

And   wiped   the  tear  out  of  her  eye. 

And  said,  "  (  )  fairies,  come  and  dance  some  oi  her 

night, 

With  little  Golden  hair  i?i  the  moonlight!'' 
Then  she  went  home  to  her  mother, 
And  told  all  about  it,  to  her  little  brother. 

GRANDPA'S  PET. 
A  little  girl  with  curly  hair. 
silting  in  her  grandfather's  chair 
<  Hi.  i!   is  a  ptvtt  y  sight 
To  see  that  emitting  little  mite 
sitting  in  that  great  big  chair! 

When  he  wanted  it  she  ran  with  glee 
To  fetch  the  old  man's  cup  of  tea, 
And  sipped  with  him  out  of  his  cup 
I  'ntil  she  had  sipped  it  nearly  all  up. 


T  have  two  pet  partridges.  They  are  very  tame, 
and  \\  ill  eat  out  of \ our  hand.  They  were  hatch- 
ed in  an  i  IK -11  bat  or.  and  wen-  brought  up  without 
any  mother.  \\V  also  have  chickens  and  turkeys, 
brought  up  The  same  way.  I  send  some  balloon 
flowers  iu  my  letter.  JENNIE  A. 

Thank  you. 

NEW  YORK  CITY. 

T  have  written  before,  but  my  letter  was  not 
printed,  so  1  thought  I  would  write  again.  As 
my  mamma  and  little  brother  are  in  the  country, 
I  feel  quite  lonesome  My  sister  takes  Youth's 
Companion,  and  T  take  HARPER'S  YOTINQ  PEOIMJ-:. 
I  like  "Raising  the  'Pearl'  "  and  Jimmy  ISmwn's 
stories  [  went  to  I'.mey  Island,  and  saw  Two 
very  large  snakes.  I  had  a  lovely  time,  and  came 
home  on  the  iron  steamboat. 

I  have/  a  stamp  album,  but  it  is  not  full  of 
stamps  yet.  as  I  have  had  it  but  a  short  time.  I 
was  promoted  into  the  highest  class  before  \a 
cation,  and  will  have  to  study  very  hard  next 
fall  when  I  return.  Will  the  Postmistress  please 
give  me  some  information  about  the  Wiggles,  as 
I  do  not  understand  what  they  mean. 

ESTELLA  H. 

In  the  Post-office  Box  of  No.  185.  May  15,  you 
will  Mud  a  full  explanation  of  the  Wiggles. 


BROOKLYN,  NKW  YORK 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS, — I  have  written  two  letters 
tn  this  paper,  but  neither  was  printed,  so  I  am 
going  to  try  again.  We  went  down  to  Long 
IJeiieh,  and  papa,  mamma,  and  myself  went  in 
bathing,  and  it  was  great  fun.  I  expect  to  have 
a  canary-bird.  I  like  the  stories  in  YOUNG  PEO- 
ri.i:.  especially  "  Nan,"  "  Keg,'1"  Toby  Tyler,"  and 
"Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother."  I  have  four  dolls.  I 
sent  for  the  Nautilus  pattern  for  my  doll,  and 
think  it  is  very  pretty.  I  made  it  up  for  Winnie 
of  gray  trimmed  with  blue.  Mamma  and  I  think 


that  the  pet  Davy  T.  spoke  of  was  a  woodchuck. 
Now  I  must  stop,  for  we  are  going  down  to 
Brighton  Beach.  ROSE  M.  B. 

Winnie  no  doubt  looks  perfectly  lovely  in  her 
new  dress. 


I  wrote  a  letter  to  you  once  before,  but  it  was 
not  published.  Fanny  has  a  bird  that  we  caught. 
and  I  ha\c  one  that  was  a  birthday  present.  I 
will  tell  you  how  we-  caught  Fanny's  bird.  One 
night  papa's  chair  was  out  on  the  step,  when  a 
bird  came  and  lighted  on  it.  .Mamma  was  open- 
in  LT  t  he  \\  i  in  low  to  let  it  in.  when  it  hopped  away. 
My  bird's  cage  was  hanging  out -doors,  and  the 
bird  got  on  it  and  tried  to  get  in;  so  mamma 
took  the  cage  in  the  house,  and  let  the  bird  in. 
My  bird  does  not  sing  yet.  Fanny  is  making  a 
nuilt.  and  so  am  I.  We  have  a  kitty  named 
Blackie.  because  she  is  so  black,  and  a  dog  named 
Rover.  I  am  ten  years  old.  EDITH  AMY  i '. 


SHARON  SPKIM;-.  \KW  YIUJK. 

1  have  taken  YoTTNG  I'KOIM.K  for  two  years,  and 
enjoj  it  \er\  much.    I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years 

of  airc.  I  am  spending  the  summer  at  my  urrand- 
ma's  in  Sharon  springs,  I  live  in  Brooklyn.  1 
like  the  M.  n-it  ^  \  er'y  in  net  i  ;  I  think  "  Raisim;  the 
•  r. -.M  ]'  "  is  very  nice,  and  Jimmy  Brown's  sti  tries 
are  \er>  ftinm.  All  the  other  little  girls  and 
boys  write  about  their  pets;  I  have  none  except 
a  goal.  \\  Inch  I  am  training  to  drive. 

I  ,o|    ]  L    X.  M. 


BRATCLKRC,  Fi  »i  IDA, 

I  want  to  report  my  success  with  preserves  I 
[ticked  three  pounds  of  wild  plums,  and  washed 

them  in.'.  i\  :  1 1  H 'ii  \\.  ighed  three  p-uuds  oi'  gran- 
ulated silvan  added  a  lii  lie  water,  and  put  it  on 
in  the  preserve  kettle,  let  it  melt,  and  then  put 
ill  the  plums,  ami  let  them  boil  hard  for  twcnly 
minutes  ;  then  took  them  off  and  put  them  in  the 
si-lf  sealing  preserve  jars.  It  made  two  jars  of 
preserves  ,-md  a  nice  bo\\|  of  jelly.  The  jelly  is 
Splendid,  and  mamma  likes  it  very  much  :  she  is 

-iek.  and  i!  tasted  good,  she  says".  I  \\  i-h  some 
nl  her  bo\  ;•  \\.ihli]  i.  [iiirl  I  heir  Micre.-s  wM  ll  cook 

ing.  F.  C.  S. 

I  am  L'iail  t  hat  1  ha  vc  one  boy  who  is  in  earnest 
about  learning  t"  cook,  and  I  hope  there  will  be 
others  to  imitate  him  before  long. 

Tin-  question  in  your  letter  will  be  answered 
l-\  'i.l  a-  soon  ;i--  I  can  obiain  the  information 
you  ask  for. 


NEW  OHI  K.V-.-,  l,"i  i-r  \\  v. 

7  have  no  pet  s.  .is  1  live  in  the  city  and  have  no 
place  TO  keep  them.  I  can  draw  a  little.  I  am 
going  to  learn  decorative  art.  I  like  the  stories 
"  liai-ing  t  he  •  IVarl'  "  and  '•  In  Honor  Bound." 
I  am  .  I-  pen  years  old  :  my  birthday  is  the  23d  of 
September  I  will  close  now, as  my  little  sister 
wishes  to  write  a  few  lines  in  my  letter. 

W.  M. 

This  is  my  first  letter  to  any  paper.  I  enjoy 
your  paper  very  much,  and  we  all  wait  anxious- 
ly for  the  postman  to  bring  it  to  us.  With  my 
b'"-t  regards,  F.  M, 

ADiR<->MMCX';1  \i--\v  YORK. 

T  live  in  "Montclair,  New  Jersey,  but  when  sum- 
mer comes  I  ero  to  the  Adirondack  Mountains. 
The  Hudson  River  runs  but  a  short  distance  from 
the  house.  There  is  no  one  here  but  our  family 
and  the  people  who  keep  The  house.  I  have  a 
lit tli3;  sister  that  is  just  a  little  over  two  months 
old,  and  two  brothers,  whose  names  are  Austin 
and  Langdon.  Langdon  calls  Austin  "  Aus,"  and 
Austin  calls  I.angdoit  "  Lang."  I  hope  my  lettt  r 
will  be  printed.  HELENE  II. 


.l.'MV*  PASS,  FLORIDA. 

I  sec  there  is  one  Florida  buy  who  writes  to  the 
Po-.t-oftice  Box,  and  as  lie  lives  inland.  I  thought 
perhaps  you  would  like  TO  hear  from  one  who  lives 
on  the  coast.  I  wish  some  Northern  boy  \vould 
write  to  me  through  your  paper,  and  "tell  me 
about  things  up  his  way.  and  in  return  I  will  tell 
him  something  about  this  far-away  country  in 
which  I  live.  There  are  many  strange  thinirs 
down  here  which  I  would  like  to  tell  you  about. 
There  is  an  caylc  that  builds  its  nest  every  year 
in  an  old  pine  tree  near  our  bouse.  Our  waters 
are  full  of  alligators,  sharks,  and  all  kinds  of 
strange  fish.  I  would  like  to  send  you  a  saw-tish 
and  some  alligators1  teeth.  S\MMY  A. 

What  is  the  name  of  the  Northern  boy  who 
will  send  the  first  reply  to  Sammy's  letter? 


MAMCHESTER,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

T  thought  I  would  tell  you  how  to  make  a  ham- 
mock. First,  bringan  old  flour  barrel  from  your 
cellar  or  store-room,  knock  it  to  pieces,  and  clean 
and  paint  the  staves  (I  like  red).  Procure  a  rope 
four  times  the  length,  each  place  where  it  is  to 
be  suspended,  and  in  size  a  little  larger  than  a 
clothes-line.  Now  halve  the  rope,  double  each 
piece  in  tin-  middle,  and.  beginning  two  yards  or 
so  from  the  end,  weave  it  over  and  under  each 
stave  about  three  inches  from  the  end  of  each 
one,  which  will  bring  the  rope  crossed  between 
each  ;  do  both  sides  the  same,  and  your  ham- 


mock is  complete.  At  first  this  may  not  seem 
firm,  but  when  then-  is  ;,  heavy  weight  on  it  the 
rope  becomes  "taut,"  as  the  sailors  say,  and  there 
will  be  no  openings.  Mi  NOT  T.  P. 

XKWBERKV,  SOUTH  CAIHHIVA. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  go  to  school, 
and  study  arithmetic,  spelling,  reading,  and  geog- 
raphy. I  have  no  pets.  I  had  a  lit  Tie  kiiten,  but 
a  boy  hit  it,  and  made  it  have  fits,  and  we  gave  it 
away  to  a  colored  man.  Please  publish  this  let- 
ter, for  it  is  the  first  one  I  have  written  to  any 
paper  I  wrote  it.  and  got  mamma  to  copy  it  for 
me.  n-  I  did  nut  t  hiuk  my  writing  good  enough. 
Good  b\ D.  ]).  YV. 

lli  re  is  a  pretty  game  for  you  to  try  : 
Till',  SHEPHERDESS  AND  THE  WOLF. 

Arrange,  yourselves  in  a  long  line,  each  holding 
the  ([re-s  ,,'t  i  he  neighbor  in  front.  The  person 
at  the  head  of  the  line  is  the  Shepherdess.  Her 
lit  tic  followers  a  re  the  Lambs.  One  player  stands 
apart,  and  is  called  the  Wolf.  She  prowls  stealth- 
ily around  the  flock,  and  the  Shepherdess  call- 
Out,  *'M  ho  goes  round  my  house  this  dark  ni^ht  i 

The  other  replic*.  "  1  aiii  a  Wolf." 

The  she]  henicss  says,  "Please,  oh,  please  do 
not  hurt  my  lambs." 

The  Wolf  says,  "I  wish  only  one.  and  I  nn  an 
to  h.-n  e  this  little  lamb." 

The  Wolf  then  jumps  at  the  last  player  in  the 
line.  The  Shepherdess  springs  round  to  save  her. 
followed  by  all  the  Iambs.  .  The  Wolf  pretends 
to  jump  on  one  side,  but  really  tries  to  catch  a 
lamb.  If  she  does  catch  one,  the  Shepherdess 
pa\s  a  forfeit.  If  the  lamb  can  slip  from  her 
hold,  she  must  run  and  put  herself  before  the 
She]  »hcr<  less. when  she,  in  her  turn,  becomes  shep- 
herdess. 

The  Wolf  then  pays  a  forfeit,  and  loses  her 
place,  giving  it  up  to  the  last  lamb  in  the  line, 
and  taking  its  place  at  the  end  of  tin-  file. 


l*nu  1  A.  *'.  :  I  am  very  sorry  your  exchange 
1  tinted  out  such  a  disappointment,  but  I  fear  you 
did  not  attend  to  the  notice  always  printed  at 
the  head  of  the  Kxehatigo  column.  You  are  do- 
ing well  as  a  business  boy,  I  fancy.— Grant*  A.  V. 
wishes  to  tell  I.illie  Coyle  II.  that  she  will  be  ten 
on  tlii-  ','Kih  of  August  —  Koliiii  1>.  Miggests  a  dor- 
tin  m -i  •  as  ha\  \  s  pel,  We  are  waiting  to  hear 
from  .Master  Davy. -Karl  V.  ii.  informs  Hallie  M. 
<..  that  the  author  of  the  Hues  quoted  in  No.  195, 
"  I  slept  and  dreamed  that  life  was  beauty,"  etc., 
were  by  Kllen  sttirgis  Hooper,  who  was  born  in 
1816,  and  died  in  1X41.—  Thank  you,  Earl.— Elv:i  .!. 
II. :  Accept  my  love  ISelle  A.  S. :  The  fern  was 
very  pretty.-  Harry  <•'.  :  Write  again. 


IT/XLUS  FI.'oM  Vnl  X<;  coXTKIP-UTORS. 
No.  1. 

A    SQUARE. 

1.  A  measure.  -.'.  To  lessen.  :i.  A  root.  4.  Thrust 
forward.     .Y  <  ^impositions. 

PRINCE  LAZYBONES. 


No.  •„>. 

AN    KASY    DIAMOND. 

1.  A  letter.     ~.  Something  men  dig  for.     3.  A 
small  wood.     I.  A  girl's  name.     5.  A  letter. 

FRAXKLYN. 


No.  3. 

GEOGRAPHICAL  ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  river  in  Asia.  2.  A  river  in  South  America. 
3,  A  Territory  in  the  1'idted  states.  4.  A  country 
in  Europe  .S.  A  state  in  the  Union.  6.  A  capital 
in  Australia.  7.  A  volcano  in  Southern  Europe. 
8.  A  city  in  .Japan.  9.  A  country  in  Asia.  10.  A 
city  in  Hindostan.  11.  A  country  in  South  Ameri- 
ca. Initials  -p, -II  the  name  of  something  we  all 
'ii  FKANKI.YN. 

No.  4. 

A    I>rtoP-LETTER    PUZZLE. 

A  proverb  of  54  letters  and  12  words  : 
A— O— T— N— W— R— U— N— T— A— A— W— A— 
H  _f__  G  —  1  —  V— U— W— R—  S— T— R  -  P  —  N— 
E— .  (.'LARA  and  MAY. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  190. 
Xo.  1.  Trump,  rump,  rum.    Cream,  ream,  earn. 
Spark,  park,  ark.    Chill,  hill,  ill.    Cork, 
rock.    May,  Amy,  yam.    Pot,  top.    Tea, 
eat. 

chair,  hair,  air.  Ai. 
No.  2.  Columbus. 


Correct  answers  To  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Daisy  !>.,  Margaret  Spence,  John  Holland, 
Arthur  Leighton,  Nellie  Hoyt,  Carter  Hicks,  Sam- 
uel <  iltroitguc,  Dolly  and  Totty,  (Jem,  Rose  T.,  El- 
sie Fay,  -lames  McCracken.  and  Theo.  HuntTing. 


[For  7r,i'<:!i"iii,".-'.  .^  '_'</  ami  3d  pages  of  cover."} 


G72 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


pie  imagine  them  to  be.  If  so,  bow  would 
they  ever  learn  the  use  of  fire-arms  and 
of  the  many  other  thiugs  that  are  haudled 
by  them  at  times  which  are  perilous  when 
improperly  used?  Sooner  or  later  they 
must  learu  to  be  careful  with  dangerous 
weapons.  If  they  begin  by  using  a  beau- 
shooter  with  care,  the  habit  will  help  them, 
when  the  time  comes  to  learu  the  use  of 
tire-arms,  etc.  The  beau  -  shooter  is  an 
auiusiug  playthiug  if  properly  used,  and 
we  do  not  think  that  auy  readers  of  HAU- 
PER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  will  be  go  wanting  iii 
this  quality  as  to  use  it  recklessly,  thereby 
makiug  it  unsafe  or  harmful  to  others. 


A    SHORT    CRUISE. 


A  NEW  KIND  OP  BEAN-SHOOTER. 

BY  A.  W.  ROBERTS. 

A  WELL-MADE  beau-shooter  will  send  a  beau  or  a  pea  a  great 
distance,  and  with  practice  precise  accuracy  of  aim  may  be 
attained.     The  latest  and  most  approved  style  of  beau-shooter 
now  in  use  among  the  boys  of  New  Y'ork  is  the  one  shown  in 

the  illustration. 

The  first  thing  necessary  is 
to  secure  a  forked  stick  of  the 
right    size   (A).     The   length 
of  the  stick  from  the  end  of 
the  prongs  to  the  handle  is 
five  inches.   To  the  prongs  are 
fastened  with   black   thread 
the   elastics,  B  B ;   these 
may  be  made  of  the  halves 
of  an  clastic  band  half  an 
inch  wide  and  five  inches 
in  leugth.     Sew  the  ends 
of  these  elastics  to  the 
ends  of  the  beau-holder,  C. 
This  consists  of  a  strip  of 
thin  and  soft  leather,  or  a 
piece  of  felting  cu.t  from  a 
discarded  soft  felt  hat. 

Iu  using  the  shooter  the 
bean  is  placed  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  bean-holder,  C 
(which  is  so  shaped  that 
it  is  widest  at  this  point), 
and  is  held  iu  position 
between  the  thumb  and 
foreh'ngerof  the  left  hand. 

The  handle.  A,  is  firmly  grasped  in  the  right  hand,  and  the 
elastics   are   distended  between  the  tines  of  the  fork  out- 
wardly from  the  left  hand  to  their  fullest  extent.     On  re- 
leasing the  holder  the  beau  is  shot  forth  with 
great  force  and  rapidity. 

There  is,  of  course,  dauger  in  the  careless  use 
of  the  bean-shooter,  as  in  the  case  of  bows  and 
arrows  and  guus.  There  are  cases  on  record 
of  boys  whose  eyes  have  been  put  out  by  the 
careless  use  of  the  beau-shooter.  But  boys  are 
not  always  the  thoughtless  creatures  some  peo- 


AN  ADVENTURE  WITH  A 
LIONESS. 

A  PORTION  of  the  crew  of  a  ship  which 
was  anchored  oft"  the  coast  of  ludia 
ouce  went  ashore  for  the  purpose  of  cut- 
ting some  wood,  and  one  of  the  sailors, 
having  through  some  cause  become  sepa- 
rated from  his  companions,  was  considera- 
bly frightened  by  the  appearance  of  a  huge 
lioness  which  he  saw  approaching  him. 
Much  to  his  surprise,  however,  she  did  not 
on  coming  up  appear  to  have  auy  evil  de- 
signs on  him,  but  instead  crouched  at  his 
feet,  and  looked  steadfastly  first  at  his  face 
and  then  at  a  tree  some  little  distance 
away. 

For  a  time  the  man  could  not  understand 
this  conduct;  but  presently,  on  the  lion- 
ess risiug  and  walking  toward  the  tree,  looking  back  at  him  as 
she  went,  he  found  out  what  it  meant.  Up  in  the  branches 
of  a  tree  was  a  large  baboon  with  two  little  lion  cnlis  in  its 
arms,  and  it  was  because  of  this  that  the  liouess  was  iu  such 
trouble.  The  difficulty  now  presented  itself  of  how  to  save  the 
cubs,  for  the  sailor  was  afraid  to  climb  the  tree.  So.  having  his 
axe  with  him,  he  resolved  to  cut  down  the  tree;  and  this  he 
did,  the  lioness  watching  him  most  anxiously  during  the  whole 
time. 

When  the  tree  fell,  and  the  three  animals  with  it,  the  lioness, 
it  is  said,  dashed  with  fury  upon  the  baboou  and  destroyed  it ; 
then,  having  gently  caressed  her  cubs  for  some  time,  she  return- 
ed to  the  sailor,  showed  her  gratitude  by  fawning  upou  him  and 
rubbing  her  head  fondly  agaiust  him,  and  at  leugth  carried 
away  her  offspring,  one  by  one. 


HARPEKS 


;1 
>M 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  iv. -xo.  200.  PUBLISHED  BY   IlAUl'KKA-    15ROTIIKIIS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  August  28,  1883. 


Copyright,  IS-*.:,  by  HIUPKK  Jt  Bat-THIRS. 


SI. 50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


ifel       i  i"'^ 


'DICK    AND     D." 

BY    L'UCY    C.    LILLIE. 

-A-utUor    oi'  **  IMiltlrecl's    Uai'«;u,in  s"    'i^aii,"    etc. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"MASTER    DICK.' 


DICK  DEVIXE  arrived  at  Dr.  Field's  house  in  very 
g'ood  time.      There  was  to  be  a  larg-e  dinner  party. 


and  on  such  occasions  the  mind  of  Brooks  was  apt  to  be 
what  Jemima,  the  cook,  called  "lifted."  He  was  vcry 
pompous  at  all  times,  but  when  any  fine  company  \vas 
expected  he  needed  to  relieve  himself  by  ordering  every- 
body about,  and  leaving  all  trifles  for  others  to  attend  to ; 
so  Dick's  quick  services  came  in  very  well. 

As  he  went  down  the  kitchen  hall  he  could  hear  Mr. 
Brooks's  voice  in  unusually  important  tones,  the  cook's  in 
evident  remonstrance,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  a  boy's  gay' 
tones  and  laughter. 


(174 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"Well,  indeed,  then,  Master  Dick,  you  must  go  up- 
stairs. This  is  no  place  just  now  for  a  young  gentleman 
to  be." 

These  words  from  Jemima  caught  Dick's  ear,  and 
stopped  him  in  the  doorway. 

The  usual  hustle  of  preparation  was  going  on.  Brooks 
was  declaring  that  "he  never  saw  anything  like  the  way 
his  things  disappeared  in  that  kitchen."  while  Jemima 
had  turned  a  heated  face  from  the  fire  as  she  spoke. 

Sitting  on  the  kitchen  table,  dangling  his  legs,  and  eat- 
ing a  huge  piece  of  cake,  was  a  boy  of  about  Dick's  own 
age.  But  there  all  resemblance  ended,  for  whereas  my  lit- 
tle hero  was  a  slim,  dark-eyed  lad,  with  something  indica- 
tive of  not  overstrong  health  in  his  face,  the  other  was  a 
broad-shouldered,  rosy  fellow,  with  tight  rings  of  yellow 
hair,  laughing  blue  eyes,  and  a  handsome  if  freckled 
countenance.  He  was  dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  mili- 
tary school,  and  decorated  with  some  society  badge. 

"Now  trill  you,  Master  Dick  ;"  Jemima  said  again,  im- 
ploringly. 

"  Will  I  ;"  said  the  boy,  in  her  tone.      "No,  I  won't;  I  j 
mean  to  stay  and  see  what  there's  going  to  be  for  dinner, 
so  I  can  tell  Brooks  what  Barbara  and  I  want  to  have 
upstairs.     And  we  want  it  hot,  do  you  hear.  Brooks,  my 
boy  <" 

Mr.  Brooks  gave  a  sigh  at  this,  and  Master  Dick,  wheel- 
ing around,  caught  sight  of  his  namesake,  who  was  stand-  j 
ing  in  the  doorway,  struck  with  a  sudden  admiration  for 
the  gay  young  gentleman  on  the  table. 

"Halloa!"  said  Master  Dick,  staring  at  him.  "Who's 
this  ?!' 

' '  Oh !"  exclaimed  Brooks,  with  an  air  of  relief.  ' '  Here ! 
— it's  young  Devine.  Now  sharp,  my  boy  —  3-011  make 
your  way  quick  around  to  Bell's,  and  get  me  a  bottle  of 
salad  oil.  Do  you  hear  ?  Good  and  fresh." 

Dick  —  our  Dick  —  was  accustomed  to  Brooks's  sharp, 
quick  orders,  and  lost  no  time  in  hastening  toward  the 
door,  although  he  would  have  liked  very  well  to  stay  and 
listen  to  Master  Dick's  jolly  voice  and  way  of  talking  to 
the  servants.  But  he  was  not  prepared  for  what  happen- 
ed. He  was  hardly  around  the  corner  before  a  voice  call- 
ed out  behind  him, 

"I  say! — stop!— I'm  coming,"  and  looking  around  he 
saw  the  other  Dick  hurrying  after  him. 

Boys,  I  am  sure,  have  an  instinctive  drawing  toward 
each  other  which  makes  it  hard  for  them  to  realize  or  even 
think  of  class  distinctions.  Dr.  Field's  grandson,  Richard 
Dearing,  had  not  the  slightest  hesitation  in  seeking  Dick 
Devine's  acquaintance,  and  when  the  first  sense  of  shy- 
ness had  passed  away,  Dick  Devine  himself  felt  quite  at 
home  with  the  other.  As  they  walked  along,  young  Dear- 
ing,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  did  most  of  the  talking. 
'Are  you  a  new  servant?"  he  began.  "You  sec,  I'm 
just  home  for  a  few  days  from  school.  Ha!  ha!  it  was  a 
good  thing.  You  see.  Packer — he's  a  new  hoy — got  the 
mumps,  and  for  a  while  he  didn't  let  on,  so  that  he  could 
give  it  to  the  other  boys,  and  have  the  fun  of  seeing  a 
whole  lot  of  'em  with  their  faces  swelled  up.  But  the  first 
thing  he  knew  he'd  given  it  to  Filiper — he's  one  of  the 
teachers — and  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  him!  Then 
Packer  had  to  get  the  measles,  and  there  was  a  precious 
row.  and  we  broke  up  for  a  few  days.  Packer's  mumps 
ain't  gone,  and  he  says  he's  going  to  spread  it  all  he 
can." 

Dick  Devine  laughed,  and  the  other  said,  after  a  min- 
ute. "It's  rather  hard,  though,  I  must  say,  and  poor  old 
Filiper  does  look  such  a  guy.  So  you  come  to  help— odd 
jobs  --do  you  .'  Where  do  you  live  .'" 

Dick  gave  the  address. 

"All  alone  ?     My  !  but  that  must  be  fun  !" 

"There's  Norry.  my  little  brother,"  said  Dick,  quickly. 
"  Only  he's  blind." 

"Blind  !     But  can't  he  be  cured  ?" 


"Oh,  please,"  exclaimed  the  other  boy — "please  don't 
tell  of  it.  I've  a  particular  reason." 

' '  All  right,"  Dick  Dearing  said,  after  a  moment's  shrewd 
study  of  his  companion's  face.  "But  I  say,  if  I  went 
blind  I  tell  you  I'd  make  a  jolly  time  of  it  if  they  didn't 
cure  me.  Blind !  that  must  be  awful." 

And  there  was  something  so  genuine  in  the  boy's  voice 
and  manner  that  Dick  Devine,  under  the  influence  of  it, 
ventured  to  tell  his  companion  something  more  of  his 
own  story — just  enough  to  be  a  relief  to  his  own  mind, 
although  not  enough  to  make  Dearing  too  inquisitive. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  the  latter  said,  finally — "  I'll  come 
down  and  see  you.  I  ain't  afraid,  and  we'll  have  some 
fun  out  of  the  old  apple  woman.  We'll  buy  up  her  whole 
stall  just  to  see  her  stare.  Would  you  mind  if  I  brought 
another  fellow  ?" 

"Oh,  but,  Master  Dick,"  Devine  said,  earnestly,  though 
he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  gladly  welcomed  the  bright- 
faced  boy  beside  him  to  his  attic,  ' '  I  don't  think  Dr.  Field 
would  like  it.  I  should,  and — niy  stars! — how  glad  Norry 
would  be!  But  I'm  afraid — 

"Oh,  hold  up,"  interrupted  the  other  boy.  "You  let 
me  alone.  Grandfather  never  cares  as  long  as  I  don't  do 
wrong." 

It  was  certainly  a  pleasant  prospect,  though  Dick  felt 
all  the  objections  to  it,  which  so  occupied  his  mind  that  he 
with  difficulty  attended  to  Mr.  Brooks's  orders,  and  very 
narrowly  escaped  a  sharp  box  on  the  ear  two  or  three 
times. 

When  the  boys  had  returned  to  the  house  Dick  Dearing 
disappeared  upstairs,  and  the  other  went  to  the  pantry, 
where  Mr.  Brooks  was  preparing  the  salad,  while  in  the 
dining-room  beyond  Dick  beheld  what  seemed  like  a  scene 
from  fairy-land.  The  long  table,  with  its  crystal  and  flow- 
ers on  a  I'ich  lace  and  damask  cloth,  looked  to  Dick's  eyes 
prepared  for  a  banquet  for  a  king,  and  he  sighed  as  he 
wondered  how  rich  people  coiihJ  live  through  the  joys 
and  luxuries  of  existence. 

The  party  was  given  for  Dr.  Field's  widowed  daughter, 
Mrs.  Thomason,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  short  trip 
in  Europe,  and  when  the  company  were  all  assembled  in 
the  dining-room  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  at  the  head  of 
the  table — a  tall,  prim-looking  lady  in  a  rich  dark  silk, 
with  jewels  and  soft  lace  ;  but  how  unlike  what  Dick 
would  have  supposed  a  rich,  happy  lady  would  look. 

Not  far  away  a  young  girl  was  seated,  who  looked  very 
different.  She  was  not  exactly  pretty,  and  yet  something 
in  her  face  warmed  Dick's  heart  as  he  looked  at  it.  The 
dark  eyes  were  so  bright  and  kind,  the  lips  parted  with 
such  an  honest  sweet  smile  as  she  spoke  to  her  neighbors. 
She  was  very  simply  dressed  —  a  white  silk,  with  some 
roses  in  her  belt,  and  a  little  band  of  pearls  about  her 
throat.  Ah  !  thought  Dick,  that's  one  of  the  rich  and 
happy  ones;  and  he  would  have  liked  to  watch  her  long- 
er, but  at  this  moment  he  heard  his  name  called,  in  a  sort 
of  whisper,  and  looking  into  the  hall,  beheld  the  other 
Dick  in  peril  of  breaking  his  neck  over  the  balusters. 

"I  say,"  he  whispered  down,  "tell  old  Brooks  we  want 
our  dinner.  What  docs  he  mean  by  keeping  us  ?  It's  to 
lie  sent  up  to  the  school-room  at  once." 

And  in  a  few  moments  Dick,  under  the  weight  of  a 
heavy  tray,  was  going  upstairs  to  the  school-room. 

<  I FAPTER  IV. 

THE   SCHOOL-ROOJI    PARTY. 

DlCK  DEVINE  had  never  seen  any  young  person  at  Dr. 
Field's  house  except  little  Barbara,  his  granddaughter, 
and  so.  on  being  admitted  to  the  school-room,  he  was 
rath. T  surprised  to  find  three  children  sitting  about  the 
table— Master  Dick,  Barbara,  and  a  tall  boy  who  looked 
so  like  Mrs.  Thomason  that  he  was  not  surprised  to  hear 
he  was  her  son. 


AfCTST  28,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


675 


"Here,  Deviiie — that's  your  name,  isn't  it?"  said  the 
other  Dick — "do  bring  that  dinner  in;  we're  famished." 

Dick  contrived  to  put  his  tray  down  carefully,  even 
while  he  answered  Barbara  Bearing's  gentle'  greeting. 

The  boy  had  described  the  child's  looks  very  naturally 
in  saying  she  was  like  an  angel,  for  her  type  was  of  that 
exquisite  fairness  which  in  a  slim,  fair-haired  little  girl  is 
so  spiritually  lovely.  Her  hair  fell  unbound  in  rippling 
waves  of  pale  gold  to  her  waist,  her  gray  eyes  were  soft 
and  very  gentle,  and  her  face  had  a  look  always  of  half- 
wistful  earnestness  in  it,  as  though  she  would  like  to  say 
something  very  kind  and  gentle. 

"Bevine, "as  young  Bearing  called  him,  saw  at  once 
that  the  eyes  of  young  Master  Thomason  were  cast  rather 
contemptuously  upon  him,  and  he  felt  himself  turn  very 
red  as  he  set  out  the  dishes  011  the  school  table.  Indeed, 
the  young  gentleman  was  engaged  in  thumping  his  cousin 
Dick  rather  heavily  under  the  table,  trying  al  the  same 
time  to  catch  his  eye  and  wink  at  one  of  Dick  l>evine's 
awkward  movements.  Dick  Bearing  understood  it.  per- 
fectly, and,  after  saying,  "I  say.  Tom.  leave  oil',  will  you  ? 
Do  you  think  a  fellow's  shins  are  made'  of  cast  iron,  or 
that,  your  feet  are  made  of  paper  '."  he  rose  suddenly,  add- 
ing. "  Here,  Deviiie,  I  want  to  show  you  a  book  of  mine." 
and  made  a  dash  over  to  a  cupboard,  to  which  he  beckon- 
ed Bick.  while  Thomason  began  to  look  very  sulky. 

Bearing  fumbled  over  his  book-shelf,  finally  producing 
a  well-worn  volume  of  Robiiixoii  I  V/t.snr,  winch  he  pres> 
ed  upon  Hick",  whispering,  "ForNorry." 

Dick  could  only  look  his  gratitude;  but,  untutored  ho\ 
that  he  was,  his  instincts  told  him  just  why  hearing  had 
done  this,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "He  is  what  1  should 
call  a  gentleman,"  and  the  boy  would  like  to  have  add- 
ed, "and  a  friend." 

Mario,  Barbara's  French  nurse,  was  busy  waiting  on 
the  other  two  children  when  Bick  came  back  to  his  place. 
Before  he  left  the  cupboard  he  had  whispered  to  |)e\  inc. 
"I  shall  be  down  to  see  you  to-morrow,  sure  pop,  about 
three  o'clock." 

And  our  Bick  by  this  time  felt  the  other  boy  to  he  such 
a  superior  person  that  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  question 
whether  he  would  even  need  permission  from  Br.  Field. 

Little  Barbara  seemed  highly  entertained  by  the  school- 
boy wit  of  the  two  boys,  and  laughed  at  all  their  jokes,  so 
that  it  led  Will  Thomason  on  to  rather  too  brilliant  a  dis- 
play of  his  powers.  He  instructed  her  in  the  fine  art  of 
putting  a  lump  of  bread  on  the  back  of  her  hand  and 
then  by  striking  her  fingers  "flying"  it  into  her  mouth. 
He  ate  like  the  Chinese,  pretending  he  had  chopsticks, 
and  produced  hideous  sounds  with  a  wet  linger  around  the 
rim  of  his  glass.  Barbara  laughed  till  the  tears  stood  in 
her  eyes,  and  Bick  Bevine,  who  was  sent  back  and  forth 
for  various  viands,  was  on  a  broad  grin  such  as  his  face 
hail  not  known  in  months,  while  Bearing  wound  up  the 
performances  by  making  a  face  in  an  orange,  and  bal- 
ancing it  above  a  napkin  in  a  tumbler. 

How  long  this  kind  of  fun  might  have  continued  it  is 
hard  to  say,  but  suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  the  young 
lady  iu  the  white  silk  gown  and  roses  came  quickly  into 
the  room.  Although  the  laughter  ceased,  Bick  Bevine 
saw  that  she  was  very  welcome.  Barbara  sprang  up, 
clapping  her  hands. 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Maud,  how  lovely!  Are  we  to  go  down 
to  the  parlor  ?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  Miss  Field  said,  in  a  bright,  sweet  voice. 
Then  her  eyes  fell  on  Bick  Bevine,  who  was  standing 
over  near  the,  wall,  taking  in  with  eyes  and  ears  all  this 
bright  family  picture. 

"  Is  that — "  she  was  beginning,  when  Bearing  said 
quickly: 

"Oh,  Cousin  Maud,  that's  Bick  Bevine,  who  comes  in 
sometimes  to  help  Brooks  or  to  do  errands;  he's  gone  for 
grandpa  even." 


The  young  lady  smiled  kindly.  "That  is  very  nice," 
she  said  with  a  pretty  nod  of  her  head  as  she  stood  smooth- 
ing down  Barbara's  frock  and  the  blue  sash  at  her  waist. 

In  a  few  moments  they  had  all  gone  gayly  down-stairs. 

Bick  began  piling  up  the  dishes,  and  something  very 
heavy  seemed  to  have  come  upon  his  heart.  It  was  not 
that  he  had  any  memories  to  be  stirred  by  the  happy,  luxu- 
rious scene  he  had  witnessed,  but  in  all  young  hearts  there 
must  be  an  instinct  for  home  ties,  home  faces  and  voices, 
the  something  which  we  feel  makes  a  warm  circle  if  we 
but  stretch  out  a  hand  on  either  side,  and  will  poor  Bick 
he  blamed  if  he  thought  of  his  cold  attic  at  home  with  poor 
blind  Norry,  half  sick  and  hungry,  waiting  for  his  return  .' 

"There's  only  us  two,"  he  thought,  with  a  lump  in  his 
throat,  "  and  none  of  this  ever  for  us!"  And  then  some- 
thing brighter  came  to  his  mind.  This  was  the  first  time 
he  had  ever  done  more  than  help  Brooks  in  the  pantry  or 
goof  errands.  Might  it  not  be  the  beginning  of  something 
like  a  warm  life,  with  plenty  to  eat  and  wear?  But  no, 
thought  the  boy,  as  he  went  down  the  back  stairs  with  his 
tray.  They  might  take  Norry  and  put  him  into  an  insti- 
tution. 

"And  there's  only  him  and  me,"  he  went  on,  mourn- 
fully. But  was  it  not  something  that  there  were  the  two  2 
and  would  not  "mother"  he  glad,  even  up  in  heaven,  to 
know  that  they  were  together,  and  that  Bick  had  kept  the 
little  boy  all  to  himself  .' 
[TO  Ei 


ADVICE  TO  I'.OYS. 

BY     H.    C.   VAN    G- IE  SON,    3VI.D. 


(IN    TAKIX(i    EXERCISE. 

BOYS  who  take  a  great  interest  and  an  active  part  ill 
out -door  sports  often  bring  needless  illness  upon 
themselves  by  overexertioii  and  want  of  proper  care  after 
violent  exercise.  Attacks  of  pneumonia  or  inflammation 
of  the  lungs  frequently  occur  from  getting  very  warm 
and  then  cooling  off  too  suddenly. 

When  about  to  engage  in  a  game  of  ball  or  any  sport 
that  requires  continued  activity,  it  is  best  to  lay  aside  the 
outer  garment,  and  put  it  on  again  when  the  game  is  fin- 
ished ;  and  instead  of  sitting  down  to  "cool  off,"  it  is 
safer  to  walk  around  for  a  while.  It  is  also  dangerous  to 
drink  large  quantities  of  cold  water  when  very  warm,  as 
the  system  receives  a  shock  which  may  lead  to  sickness. 

To  go  in  swimming  after  a  long  walk  through  the  hot 
sun  is  also  injurious,  as  the  blood  is  driven  to  the  inter- 
nal organs  from  the  surface  of  the  body,  and  produces 
congestion,  and  cramps  are  also  liable  to  occur,  which  in 
many  cases  have  been  the  cause  of  death  by  drowning. 
It  is  always  safer  to  wait  until  the  body  has  cooled  before 
plunging  into  the  water,  which  is  generally  of  a  lower 
temperature  than  the  body. 

Violent  exercise  taken  occasionally  will  not  develop 
the  strength  as  well  as  a  regular  amount  continued 
every  day.  If  a  boy  wishes  to  develop  his  muscles,  let 
him  play  ball  or  row  a  certain  time  every  favorable  day. 
Let  him  cease  at  the  moment  a  sense  of  weariness  or  dis- 
inclination seizes  him.  The  next  day  he  will  be  able 
to  stand  a  little  more  exertion,  and  so  by  degrees  he  will 
attain  to  a  certain  standard,  and  have  a  reserve  force  of 
strength  that  will  be  the  foundation  of  continued  good 
health  in  the  future.  It  is  necessary  that  the  growing 
body  should  have  exercise.  Air  and  sunlight  are  neces- 
sary to  growth,  and  active  out-door  sports  are  the  means 
by  which  their  benefits  can  be  obtained. 

Soon  the  summer  vacation  will  give  place  to  the  re- 
straints of  school.  Let  boys  have  all  the  out-door  exer- 
cise they  can.  Ball-playing,  rowing,  horseback-riding, 
swimming,  all  are  prime  factors  in  muscular  develop- 


676 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


merit,  and  with  care  and  judgment  in  their  proper  use 
will  tend  to  stronger  and  healthier  growth. 

The  world  needs  strong  men  as  well  as  wise  ones,  and 
indeed  the  mind  will  develop  more  rapidly  in  a  sound 
body  than  in  a  sickly  one.  It  is  a  grand  thing  to  be  able 
to  stand  hardship  and  privation  in  the  search  for  truth 
and  knowledge,  and  any  man  with  good  physical  strength 
is  equal  to  the  task  of  combating  the  world  if  with  it  he 
has  the  stimulus  of  a  strong  will.  Let  boys  then  seek 
to  build  up  in  their  growing  days  a  sound  constitution, 
and  life  will  be  more  than  doubled  in  value  to  them. 


THE  LAND  OF  NOWHERE. 

A  Song  for  Boys  and  Girls  irko  are  always  discontented. 

BY  ELLA  WHEELER. 

DO  you  know  where  the  summer  blooms  all  the  year  round, 
Where  there  never  is  rain  on  a  picnic  day, 
Where  the  thorniest*  rose  in  its  beauty  grows, 
And  little  boys  never  are  called  from  play  ' 
Oh !  hey !  it  is  far  away. 
In  the  wonderful  laud  of  Nowhere. 

Would  you  like  to  live  where  nobody  scolds. 

Where  you  never  are  told,  ';  It  is  time  for  bed," 
\Vheiv   i  on  learu "without  trying,  and  laugh,  without  crying. 
Where  snarls  never  pull  when  they  conib  your  head? 
Then  oh!  hey!  you  must  hie  away 
To  the  wonderful  land  of  Nowhere. 

If  you  long  to  dwell  where  you  never  need  wait, 

Where  no  one  is  punished  or  made  to  cry, 
Where  a  supper  of  cakes  is  not  followed  by  aches, 
And  little  folks  thrive  on  a  diet  of  pie? 

Then  ho!  hey!  you  must  go,  I  say, 
To  the  wonderful  land  of  Nowhere. 

You  must  drift  down  the  river  of  Idle  Dreams, 

Close  to  the  border  of  No-man's  Land  ; 
For  a  year  and  a  day  you  must  sail  away, 

And  then  you  will  come  to  an  unknown  strand. 
And  ho!  hey!  if  you  get  there— stay 
In  the  wonderful  land  of  Nowhere. 


THIMBLE'S  LAST  HUNT. 

BY  MARIA  LOUISE  POOL. 

PERMIT  me." 
"Allow  me." 

The  voices  that  spoke  held  laughter  in  their  tones.    The 
first  speaker  took  off  her  Derby  with  a  flourish,  and  stood 
with  hare  head  beside  Elsie  Chapin,  who  had  led  her  white 
pony  from  the  stable  near  the  Academy  where  she  came 
every  morning,  being  a  day  pupil  of  that  somewhat  cele- 
brated school.     She  lived  four  miles  away,  and  cantered 
back  and  forth,  taking  care  of  her  steed  herself.     She  had 
110  riding  skirt,  and  her  little  plain  brown  dress  flut- 
tered back  in  the  wind  as  she  looked  at  her  com- 
panions, botli  of  whom  were  gayly  dressed,  with 
flounces  flying  and  ribbon  ends  streaming, 
their  mannish  collars  tied  by  square  bows. 

Bright  girls  all  of  them;  and  is  there 
anything  brighter   than  girls    of  fifteen 
and  sixteen  are  nowadays  ? 

Elsie's  wide  red  mouth  and  big  eyes 
put  on  a  look  of  scorn. 

"As  if  either  of  you  could  put  me 
on  Thimble!"  she  s:iid. 

"Try  us,"  cried  Marion.  "I  can 
at  least  do  as  well  as  Bob  Morris,  who 
fell  on  his  knees  in  the  dust." 

Then  the  three  laughed  ringingly, 
just  from  sheer  youthful  spirits. 

Marion  stepped  forward  and  bent 
down  with  her  two  hands  clasped  tight- 
ly together. 

"Give  me  happiness  by  making  me 
your  slave,  O  fairest  of  the  fair!"  she 
cried,  with  a  solemn  air. 

Kate  went  to  the  pony's  head  and  laid  her 
hand  on  the  weather-stained  bridle.      Elsie  put 
her  foot  lightly  on  the  clasped  hands  and  sprang 
into  the  saddle. 

"Somebody  spread  down  a  cloak,  so  that  my 
pony's  feet  may  not  be  soiled  by  that  mud,"  she  said, 
as  she  made  sure  that  the  hemp  satchel  of  books  was 
securely  fastened  to  the  pommel. 

"Now  you  ask  too  much,"  replied  Marion.  "  My  hopes, 
my  heart,  my  life,  you  may  have,  but  not  this  lovely  new 
plaid  wrap,"  hugging  the  article  closely  about  her. 

"Adieu,  then,  until  to-morrow,"  responded  Elsie,  gath- 
ering the  reins  more  securely  in  her  hand. 

Thimble  danced  a  little,  which  was  his  way  of  saying  he 
was  more  than  ready.  His  mistress  shook  the  lines  and 
he  started,  his  "banged"  fore-top  flying  backward,  his. 
snowy  hogged  mane  standing  up  very  thick  and  straight. 
The  two  girls  watching  could  not  help  envying  Elsie 
the  fleet  Texas  pony  which  she  had  ridden  constantly  for 
more  than  a  year. 

"You  know  we  can't  afford  to  have  him,"  Elsie  had 
said  in  confidence  to  Marion;  "but  father  consented  to 
buy  him  if  I  would  really  wear  my  old  dresses  and  hats, 
so  that  Thimble  could  have  the  money  for  his  food.  I 
promised,  and  now  if  I  get  so  shabby  that  you  are  ashamed 
of  me,  why,  I  shall  have  to  bear  it,  that's  all.  But  I 
wouldn't  give  up  Thimble;  he  knows  more  than  all  of  us 
put  together." 

"I  believe  it,"  Marion  had  said,  standing  with  her  arm 
over  the  pony's  neck.  "His  eyes  are  not  as  bright  as  t  hat 
for  nothing.  And  as  for  being  shabby,  why,  I'd  rather 
wear  blue  gingham  all  the  rest  of  my  life  and  have  such 
a  love  of  a  Ix-astit-:"  and  she  kissed  him  o«  the  end  of  his. 
soft  nose — a  caress  which  he  bore  with  calmness,  evidently 
having  his  own  opinion  about  the  usefulness  of  girls  in 
purveying  him  goodies. 

Now  as  Elsie  rode  out  of  the  yard  the  northeast  wind 
came  sweeping  full  in  her  face,  bearing  with  it  a  fine 


AUGUST  28,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


677 


storm.  But  what  cared  she  ?  Her  blue  jacket  was  but- 
toned tightly  across  her  chest,  and  her  hat  pulled  tiriuly 
down  over  her  forehead. 

"You'll  have  it  full  upon  you,''  called  Kate. 

And  Marion  put  her  hands  to  her  mouth,  and  shouted, 
"Elsie,  'ware  the  marshes  of  Saugus." 

The  rider  turned  and  waved  her  hand,  and  then  the 
pony  settled  down  into  his  quick  lope,  and  in  a  moment 
Elsie  and  Thimble  were  out  of  sight,  shut  in  on  the  long, 
straight  road  by  the  thick  storm,  which  came  on  with  that 
sudden  sweep  which  characterizes  one  phase  of  a  north- 
east storm  on  the  New  England  coast.  It  did  not  rain  ; 
it  was  a  thick  mist,  and  smelled  as  salt  as  though  the 
ocean  were  tossing  up  its  spray  just  the  other  side  of  the 
road.  It  had  been  a  sort  of  "dry  storm"  all  day,  and  the 
ocean  had  been  moaning  loudly. 

The  two  girls  turned  and  strolled  toward  the  large 
hoarding-house  which  stood  at  the  farther  end  of  the  acad- 
emy yard.  It  was  now  almost  dark,  but  there  was  going 
to  be  a  moon. 

A  side  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Mi.ss  Monroe,  the 
principal,  appeared. 

"  Elsie  Chapin  has  not  gone  ?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

"Yes,  a  few  moments  ago." 

"I  am  sorry.  I  intended  to  ask  her  to  stay  here  over- 
night. The  storm  is  coming  on  furiously.  It  was  only 
yestei'day  I  spoke  to  her  mother,  telling  her  not  to  be 
anxious  when  it  was  very  bad  weather,  for  1  should  keep 
Klsie.  It  is  too  late  in  the  fall  for  her  to  go  so  far  when 
it  is  not  pleasant." 

The  kind  face  looked  so  worried  that  Marion  said, 
with  the  earnestness  of  conviction,  "Miss  Monroe,  the 
pony  will  take  her  home  safely;  he  will  get  there  in 
less  than  half  an  hour;  you've  no  idea  how  fast  he  can 
go." 

Out  in  the  increasing  storm  Elsie  was  sitting  her  pony 
with  her  head  bent  down,  and  her  left  hand  holding  the 
bridle  loosely.  Thimble's  small  feet  clattered  swiftly 
over  the  stony  road,  and  every  time  he  felt  the  bridle 
shaken  on  his  neck  he  dashed  forward  still  faster,  the 
darkness  thickening  all  the 
time. 

Their  way  lay  along  a 
wide  stretch  of  salt  marsh, 
and  the  road  was  only  a  few 
feet  above  the  level  of  the 
low  .field  which  stretched  out 
for  hundreds  of  acres.  In 
such  a  storm  one  might  wan- 
der here  for  days  even  and 
not  find  his  way,  nor  see  a 
sight  save  the  fog,  nor  hear 
a  sound  save  the  swash  of 
the  sea  far  down  at  the 
shore,  and  the  cry  of 
wild  birds  who  were  hur- 
rying to  their  Southern 
homes. 

Far  ahead — or  it  looked 
far  in  the  dark  mist — Elsie 
suddenly  saw  the  gleam  of 
a  light;  it  shone  palely  ill 
the  watery  atmosphere.  It 
seemed  to  he  on  the  road, 
and  the  girl  rapidly  ap- 
proached it,  pulling  up  her 
pony  a  few  minutes  later 
as  she  saw  it  was  a  market 
wagon  which  went  by  her 
home  twice  a  week.  The 
man  was  walking  by  his 
horse,  and  swinging  a  lan- 
tern as  he  went. 


"Hullo!"  he  cried,  spying  the  white  animal.  "  Be  you 
'Liab  Chapin's  darter  ?'' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  I  was  about  sure  of  it  from  the  pony.  I  never  calki- 
lated  to  see  you.  but  there's  a  mighty  row  down  to  your 
house." 

"What  ?"  said  Elsie,  sharply,  her  mind  going  instantly 
to  her  mother,  whom  she  loved  with  all  the  faith  and 
affection  of  a  loyal,  upright  nature,  and  who  had  been  an 
invalid  so  much  of  the  time  that  Elsie  always  felt  a  kind 
of  care  for  her. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  the  man,  with  that  curious  satisfaction 
in  telling  unpleasant  news  that  is  so  marked  in  some  peo- 
ple. "You  see,  Miss  Chapin  she  was  sent  for  'bout  nine 
o'clock  this  morning  to  go  to  Bill  Karter's  oil  the  marsh 
end  'cause  his  child  was  sick.  The  child  died,  so  they  tell 
me,  and  Miss  Chapin—  Yer  own  mother,  ain't  it  ?'' 

' '  Yes !  yes !"  said  Elsie,  breathlessly. 

"Wa'al,  she  started  about  two  o'clock  to  come  home. 
and  she  ain't  got  there  yit.  Yer  father  he  happened  to 
see  some  one  that  knew  she  started,  and  now  there's  a 
parcel  of  men  gone  out  to  find  her.  They  think  she's  got 
bewildered  in  the  fog,  ye  see." 

Elsie's  voice  was  high  and  strange  as  she  asked: 

"How  long  ago  '. — did  they  start,  I  mean  ?" 

"Groin' on  two  hours." 

"  Did  they  take  the  dog  with  them  >." 

"Don't  know;  guess  not;  I  didn't  see  110  dog." 

Elsie's  mind  ran  riot  for  a  moment  without  her  having 
the  least  control  of  it.  She  turned  Thimble  so  that  the 
cart  passed  on  ;  but  instead  of  allowing'  the  pony  to  go  on, 
she  checked  him,  and  he  stood  impatiently  shaking  his 
handsome  head,  switching  his  square-cut  tail,  and  put- 
ting back  one  ear,  as  if  to  ask  what  was  the  meaning  of 
this. 

The  light  the  market-man  carried  was  soon  swallowed 
up  in  the  darkness;  and  now  Elsie,  looking  before  her, 
knew  that  if  her  pony  had  not  been  white  she  could  not 
have  seen  its  head,  so  dense  was  the  atmosphere  that  en- 
circled her. 


'BE    YOU   'LIAB    CHAPIX'S    DARTERS'" 


678 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Not  for  many  seconds  of  time  did  the  girl  hesitate. 

' '  There's  small  chance  of  finding  her  unless  they  went 
after  the  dog,"  she  said.  "/  can  find  her  with  Max." 
She  knew  that  Max  had  gone  home  with  a  cousin  of  hers 
who  lived  a  mile  beyond  her  own  home;  he  frequently 
staid  there  for  several  days  at  a  time. 

"I  can  find  her;  I  will  find  her!"  she  cried.  "Go, 
Thimble — go  as  you  never  went  before!" 

The  pony  jumped  forward,  neighed  shrilly,  and  then 
settled  down.  Elsie  knew  he  could  do  his  mile  in  four 
minutes  well  enough,  and  she  had  no  uneasiness  con- 
cerning the  way,  for  Thimble  could  have  gone  blind 
folded,  and  in  fact  he  was  utterly  blinded  by  the  dark- 
ness and  the  storm.  But  he  did  not  flinch;  he  leaped 
through  the  darkness,  the  thud  of  his  swift-hitting  hoofs 
being  the  only  sound  in  the  noise  of  the  wind.  That 
motion  had  in  its  rapidity  something  inspiring  and  tri- 
umphant. 

In  a  few  minutes  she  saw,  close  by  her,  a  light  shine 
from  what  she  believed  to  be  her  cousin's  house.  Al- 
most at  the  same  instant  the  gravel  of  the  road  was  scat- 
tered by  scratching  feet,  and  then  she  heard  the  deep  bay 
of  welcome  from  Max's  throat.  Her  pulses  gave  a  bound. 

''  Thank  Heaven!"  came  unconsciously  from  her  lips. 

Here  was  her  ally,  and  without  her  having  to  lose  a 
moment  in  finding  him. 

"Come,  Max,"  she  called,  and  wheeled  her  horse. 

She  could  not  see  him,  but  she  heard  him  cantering 
along  abreast  of  her  as  she  rode,  and  the  sound  gave  her 
courage.  She  must  trust  all  to  her  pony  and  her  dog, 
for  no  human  instinct  could  guide  her  in  such  a  time  as 
this. 

Leaning  over  from  her  saddle,  she  spoke  to  Max,  who 
was  nosing  around  among  the  stubble.  Then  she  drew 
out  the  silk  handkerchief  from  her  pocket;  it  was  her  mo- 
ther's ;  she  had  only  taken  it  from  her  that  morning. 

The  dog  smelled  of  it. 

"Find  her,"  cried  Elsie,  and  there  was  a  pathetic  en- 
treaty in  the  command.  Max  snuffed  again,  then  gave  a 
quick  bark,  as  if  asking  a  question. 

"She  is  lost — here  on  the  marshes.  Oh,  Max,  I  shall 
die  if  we  do  not  find  her !" 

The  dog's  instincts  had  been  sharpened  by  training,  and 
lie  would  show  now  of  what  he  was  made.  He  started 
off.  Elsie  heard  him  rustling  in  the  brown  grass.  She 
felt  the  pony  quivering  under  her;  he  too  was  getting  ex- 
cited. Far  away  on  his  native  Texan  plains  he  had  hunt- 
ed many  a  day,  and  the  baying  of  dogs  and  the  crack  of 
rifles  were  inspirations  to  him. 

"Go!"  said  Elsie,  not  thinking  of  her  own  safety,  re- 
membering nothing  but  that  her  mother,  who  was  so  far 
from  being  strong,  was  on  this  desert,  buffeted  by  this 
merciless  storm,  vainly  trying  to  get  on,  as  one  in  a  night- 
mare struggles  to  find  the  right  way. 

Thimble  leaped  across  the  narrow  ditch  that  separated 
the  marsh  from  the  road,  and  the  next  moment  Elsie  felt 
as  if  she  were  flying  through  unlighted  space,  the  salt  air 
cutting-  her  face  and  thrashing  her  wet,  unfastened  hair 
about  her. 

She  dared  not  think  of  her  mother  ;  she  must  banish 
from  her  mind  every  memory  of  that  tenderness  which 
made  her  mother  so  dear  to  her.  Was  it  yesterday  that 
she  had  sung  with  such  a  care-free  heart, 

''  The  blinding  mist  came  ilo\vn  and  hul  the  land"  ? 

The  words  went  like  a  knife.  "Oh,  mother!  mother!" 
she  moaned  aloud. 

Farther  off  Max  barked,  and  Thimble  made  longer  leaps. 
splashing  in  pools  of  salt-water,  the  sharp,  stiff  grass  cut- 
ting his  legs,  his  chest  wet  with  his  own  foam  and  with 
the  chilly  water.  But  he  did  not  slacken  nor  pant,  hardy, 
long-breathed  fellow  that  he  was. 

Was  that  the  report  of  a  gun,  dulled,  deadened  by  the 


dampness?  The  sound  gave  a  new  terror  to  Elsie;  she 
did  not  think  that  it  might  be  a  signal.  She  knew  that, 
earlier  in  the  season,  men  prowled  about  for  coots  and 
geese,  but  why  should  they  shoot  at  such  a  time  as  this  ? 
Such  a  shot  might  hit  her  mother;  the  girl  never  thought 
that  it  might  hit  herself  as  well. 

Far  off  she  now  heard  Max  barking  frantically. 

"Thimble,  go  on!"  she  shouted,  and  the  brave  little 
animal  needed  not  to  be  told  a  second  time.  He  dashed 
on  like  a  wild  thing,  straight  over  sedge  and  pool,  and 
Elsie's  breath  came  heavily,  for  in  the  wind  that  rushed 
by  her  face  she  still  heard  confusedly  the  sound  of  the 
dog's  furious  bark. 

An  exultant  throb  was  now  in  Elsie's  pulses.  Already, 
in  her  mind,  she  had  slipped  from  her  seat  and  was  hold- 
ing her  mother  fast  and  close;  a  sob  rose  in  her  throat. 
Not  yet  must  she  give  way  to  such  imaginings;  yet  longer 
she  needed  her  strength.  Wild  and  high  came  the  roar 
of  the  sea. 

Was  Thimble  moving  ?  WTould  he  never  get  to  where 
Max  barked  in  such  a  victorious  note  ? 

Elsie  rose  in  her  stirrup,  her  fingers  clinging  round  the 
pommel. 

"Mother!  mother!"  she  called,  "  are  you  there  ?" 

"Is  it  you,  Elsie?"  responded  a  faint  voice  from  out 
the  mist,  and  there  came  the  sound  of  some  heart-felt 
thanks. 

Trembling,  and  now  at  last  panting,  the  pony  made  the 
little  remaining  distance  between  the  daughter  and  mo- 
ther. 

Just  as  Elsie  slipped  from  the  saddle  another  shot 
sounded,  and  this  time  close  to  them — not  the  shot  of  a 
gun.  A  prick,  as  of  a  needle  going  through  her  flesh, 
Elsie  felt  in  her  side,  but  forgot  it  instantly.  She  did  not 
notice  that  the  pony  swerved  oddly  to  one  side  as  she 
withdrew  her  foot  from  the  stirrup.  She  was  groping  in 
the  fog  for  the  owner  of  the  soft  voice  that  now  called  her 
again. 

"  Dear  Elsie!     It  is  you  who  have  found  me !" 

Now  her  mother's  arms  held  her,  and  Elsie  could  bear 
the  choking  in  her  breath,  knowing  that  the  work  she  had 
set  out  to  do  was  done. 

In  a  moment  she  said,  "  I  will  put  you  on  Thimble,  and 
I  will  go  by  his  head;  the  dog  knows  the  way  home  even 
if  the  pony  does  not.  If  you  are  only  not  ill  after  this! 
if  you  do  not  have  pneumonia  again!  Here  is  Thimble, 
noblest  fellow  in  the  world !  He  shall  have  sugar  and  ap- 
ples all  his  life.  You  don't  know  what  a  darling  he  has 
been. — Oh !" 

The  last  word  was  uttered  with  such  horrified  shrillness 
that  Mrs.  Chapin  started  and  grasped  her  'laughter's  hand 
more  closely. 

But  before  she  could  speak  Elsie  had  flung  away  from 
her,  and  was  down  in  the  mud  by  the  side  of  a  white  shape 
that  lay  on  the  ground.  She  gathered  the  lovely  head 
into  her  arms ;  she  felt  again  the  soft  dark  nose  she  had  so 
often  kissed.  The  pony's  breath  came  distressfully;  he 
was  lying  on  his  side.  At  that  moment  the  fog  was  pierced 
by  the  rays  of  a  lantern,  and  footsteps  were  heard  among 
the  sedge. 

"Hullo,  here!  I  say,  I  guess  I've  got  you !"  cried  a 
man's  voice.  "  Don't  shoot  any  more  or  I'll  use  my  own 
pistol !" 

Elsie  heard,  but  she  did  not  care  to  look  up  from  the 
head  she  held,  and  which  she  could  now  see  by  the  light 
of  the  lantern. 

Mrs.  Chapin,  without  moving  her  eyes  from  her  daugh- 
ter, asked,  "For  whom  are  you  looking  ?" 

"That  i'ellow  accused  of  murder  over  there  in  Norley. 
Of  course  you've  heard  about  him.  We've  tracked  him  all 
the  afternoon,  and  got  him  to  this  horrid  place.  It  was 
he  that  fired.  I  declare !  Has  he  killed  that  little  horse  ? 
Lucky  he  didn't  hit  anything  else!" 


.\n;rsT  28,  isss. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


679 


The  barking  of  Max  had  by  this  time  given  notice  to 
others  on  the  marsh  who  were  looking  with  Mr.  Ohapin 
for  his  wife.  In  another  moment  two  more  men  witli  lan- 
terns had  come,  but  Elsie  neither  saw  nor  heard  them. 
She  was  sitting  in  a  pool  of  water,  the  pony's  head  held 
fast,  but  gently,  tenderly  in  her  arms,  while  her  gaze  was 
watching  the  light  go  out  in  the  brilliant  eyes  that  looked 
up  at  her. 

In  the  heaving,  muddy  side  was  an  ugly  bullet-hole 
which  dripped  blood. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  plainly  the  pony  asked  her  to  help 
him.  Did  he  reproach  her  for  the  pain  he  was  suffering? 
Did  he  tell  her  that  he  had  done  all,  given  all  for  her,  and 
why  did  she  not  help  him  i 

Elsie  felt  her  heart  bound  tightly  with  steel  bands.  She 
could  not  breathe.  She  saw  the  spirited  eyes  glaze,  but 
their  blinding  gaze  was  still  oil  her  face.  A  shudder  went 
over  the  shapely  white  form.  Then  Elsie  knew  there  was 
no  sight  any  more  in  the  eyes. 

With  a  broken  cry  the  girl  bent  her  head  down  on  the 
pony's  neck.  She  did  not  know  her  mother's  arm  was 
over  her  shoulders.  Presently  stronger  arms  were  put 
around  her;  her  father  had  come,  and  he  took  her  up. 

Not  until  they  had  readied  Bill  Karter's — which  was 
thought  to  be  the  nearest  house — did  they  find  there  was 
blood  on  Elsie's  dress— her  own  blood  mingled  with  Thim- 
ble's — and  then,  on  being  asked,  Elsie  became  conscious 
that  her  side  was  sore.  She  had  been  stooping  over  in 
such  a  way  that  the  .same  bullet  that  had  killed  Thimble 
had  given  a  flesh-wound  to  his  mistress. 

"Let  it  comfort  you  to  know  that  you  saved  your  mo- 
ther's life,"  the  doctor  said  to  the  girl,  after  he  had  dressed 
her  wound,  and  she  was  lying  on  her  own  bed.  "She 
could  not  possibly  have  borne  a  long  exposure.  Yovi  did 
well  to  take  the  dog  with  you/' 

"  Your  father  says,"  said  Marion  to  her,  a  few  days  later, 
as  she  sat  by  the  big  chair  where  Elsie  was  reclining — 
"your  father  says  he  is  going  to  sell  that  Jersey  <-o\v.  and 
get  you  another  Texas  pony  from  Mr.  Nolan  when  he 
comes  North  with  another  lot  in  the  spring." 

"No!  no!"  cried  Elsie,  with  energy.  "I  never  want 
another  pony.  There  was  but  one  Thimble." 

Her  voice  broke,  her  eyes  filled.  Marion  bent  over  and 
touched  her  cheek  gently,  not  saying  anything. 


DICK'S  DEER  PAKK. 

BY  IRVING  L.  BEMAX. 

ABOUT  a  mile  from  Dick  Smith's  home,  at  a  lovely 
bend  in  the  river,  was  a  wide  cove  where  the  water 
was  shallow  and  thickly  grown  with  lilies  for  several  rods 
from  the  shore.  Along  the  bank  was  a  belt  of  thicket, 
sprinkled  here  and  there  with  larger  trees.  Through  the 
thicket  were  numerous  paths  by  which  the  deer  came  down 
to  the  water  to  eat  the  lily  pads — a  diet  of  which  they  are 
particularly  fond. 

Here  Dick  and  his  father  sometimes  went  in  the  even- 
ing, in  a  boat  with  a  torch  blazing  at  the  prow,  to  shoot  a 
deer  for  their  family  meat.  To  make  the  spot  still  more 
attractive  they  had  deposited  a  quantity  of  salt  at  one 
point,  making  what  is  called  a  "lick. "a  place  to  which 
deer  often  go,  as  they,  like  most  animals  of  their  kind,  de- 
light in  licking  anything  salty.  Sometimes  the  deer  came 
here  in  the  daytime,  and  more  than  once  had  Dick  watch- 
ed them  as  he  floated  in  the  canoe  far  over  near  the  oppo- 
site shore  of  the  river,  and  wished  he  had  one  of  them 
where  he  could  tame  it  and  teach  it  to  take  salt  and  other 
things  right  f  com  his  hand.  When  children  see  any  beau- 
tiful wild  creature,  be  it  bird  or  beast,  they  always  wish  to 
possess  it,  and  keep  it  a  prisoner  in  some  cage  or  yard. 

One  warm  September  day  Dick  was  watching'  a  doe  and 
her  fawn  at  the  salt-lick,  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  per- 


haps if  he  should  cover  the  bow  of  the  canoe  with  green 
hushes,  he  might  sit  in  the  stern  behind  them  and  paddle 
right  up  to  them.  Paddling  around  the  bend  out  of 
sight,  he  took  the  hatchet  from  the  boat  and  quietly  clip- 
ping oft' some  leafy  boughs,  heaped  them,  as  he  had  planned, 
for  a  screen.  Then  he  paddled  back,  and  turned  the  bow 
straight  toward  the  lick.  By  peering  intently  through  the 
not  very  dense  pile  of  brush,  he  could  see  the  deer  still 
busy  licking  salt.  Closer  and  closer  he  came,  until,  when 
within  a  few  rods,  he  stopped  paddling,  and  creeping  for- 
ward to  the  bushes,  took  a  long'  look  at  the  game. 

Talk  about  the  cat  or  the  fox !  what  is  more  sly  and  less 
noisy  than  a  barefooted  boy.  when  he  tries  '.  And  what 
sight  is  more  enchanting  than  a  dapple-skinned  fawn  ? 
I  >a  re  footed  Dick  looked  his  full  at  the  beautiful  little  thing, 
until  he  began  to  think  to  himself:  "Why  can't  I  catch 
it  ?  It's  young  and  foolish,  and  if  I  paddle  very  softly, 
maybe  I  can  get  close  up,  and  then  jump  out  and  grab  it." 

Fortunately  there  were  no  lily  pads. just  at  that  place  to 
give  the  boy  trouble,  and  pretty  soon  the  canoe  touched 
shore,  and  Dick  found  himself  within  a  dozen  feet  of  his 
game.  Gently  he  thrust  the  paddle  down  into  the  soft 
soil  airainst  the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  crept  forward  to  the 
brush.  He  calculated  that  at  two  short  bounds  he  could 
clear  the  boat  and  seize  the  fawn.  Gathering  his  feet  un- 
der linn,  he  gave  one  spring  over  the  brush,  and  then  an- 
other, quick  as  a  cat,  and,  sure  enough,  the  delicate  spotted 
baby  deer  was  his  captive.  It  struggled  a  little,  gave  one 
faint  cry.  more  like  a  human  child  than  the  bleat  of  an 
animal,  and  then  yielded  as  if  its  strength  were  all  gone. 

One  swift,  triumphant  thought  flashed  through  Dick's 
mind— "I've  got  it!  I've  got  it!"  The  next  instant  he 
was  knocked  heels  over  head  and  half  stunned,  his  hands 
let  go  their  hold,  and  lo!  he  was  a  badly  beaten  boy. 

This  change  in  Dick's  fortunes  was  due  to  the  mother 
deer.  Timid  las  are  the  wild  deer  of  the  woods,  they  are 
not  altogether  wanting  in  some  of  the  bolder  traits;  a  doe 
is  a  dangerous  enemy  sometimes  in  defense  of  her  off- 
spring. 

As  soon  as  she  heard  the  outcry  of  her  child  she  sprang 
to  its  rescue,  and  with  her  fore-feet  taught  Dick  a  lesson 
he  has  never  forgotten.  But  he  rallied  in  time  to  see  the 
two  run  oil'  together,  and  to  note  how  the  fawn  was  half 
entangled  in  a  wild  vine  that  crossed  its  pathway. 

When  the  adventure  was  ended  he  rubbed  his  shoulder, 
which  felt  not  a  little  bruised  by  the  blow  from  the  deer, 
and  muttering  to  himself,  "  Well!  well!"  clambered  into 
his  canoe,  tossed  off  the  brush,  and  paddled  slowly  home- 
ward. That  night  he  lay  awake  a  long  time  thinking-  over 
his  adventure,  how  beautiful  was  the  fawn,  how  near  he 
came  to  success,  and  how  suddenly  he  failed,  and  wishing- 
more  than  ever  that  he  had  a  tame  deer.  Before  he  slept 
a  novel  plan,  suggested  by  the  fawn's  tripping  over  the 
vine,  flashed  on  his  mind,  by  which  possibly  he  might 
accomplish  his  desire. 

The  next  morning  he  obtained  of  his  father  two  or  three 
strong  thongs  of  leather,  and,  going  into  the  woods  near 
by,  gathered  enough  barb  of  the  moose-wood,  or  leather- 
wood  (Dirca  pahistris),  to  make  several  more  similar 
ropes.  At  one  end  of  each  of  these  he  made  a  large  slip- 
noose,  so  arranged  that  it  could  not  draw  quite  tight.  In 
the  afternoon  he  paddled  down  to  the  cove  again,  and  se- 
lecting the  paths  that  seemed  most  frequented  by  the  deer, 
he  suspended  in  each  a  slip-noose,  attaching-  the  other  end 
of  the  thong  tightly  to  some  strong  branch  or  tree.  The 
noose  he  distended  on  small  twigs  in  such  a  manner  that 
a  deer  in  passing  would  be  likely  to  walk  right  into  it,  and 
draw  it  up  so  as  to  become  ensnared. 

Dick  hardly  expected  to  succeed  immediately,  for  deer 
have  exceedingly  sharp  senses,  and  would  probably  smell 
his  foot-prints,  and  avoid  for  a  while  the  passages  where 
he  had  spread  his  snares;  but  he  trusted  that  time  would 
dispel  the  odor,  and  then  his  device  might  work. 


680 

However,  the  very  next  morning  lie  could  not  refrain 
from  returning  to  the  place,  though  of  course  he  found 
nothing.     Day  after  clay  he  paddled   down  to  the  cove 
and  passed  along  near  enough  to  inspect  the  snares; 
thev  remained  as  he  had  left  them. 

A  week  or  more  thus  went  by,  when  one  morning  he 
had  an  excitement.  The  first  snare  to  which  he  came  had 
been  entered,  but  whatever  the  animal  may  have  been  it 
had  escaped.  The  second  snare  was  undisturbed,  and  the 
next,  and  so  on  to  the  last  one. 

But  here  lo!  our  little  hero  found  a  deer,  a  real  deer, 
caught  and  alive.  Ah,  how  the  boys  heart  leaped ! 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 
Dick  named 


came  more  familiar  with  its  happy  master, 
it  Lightfoot. 

Within  a  few  weeks  two  does  were  captured  and  added 
to  what  Dick  began  to  call  his  "park  of  deer."  Befoiv  the 
winter  closed  they  became  as  tame  as  cosset  lambs,  eating 
outof  Dick's  hand,  and  thrustingtheirnosesinto  his  "round- 
about" pockets  to  discover  any  choice  bits  he  might  have 
brou.-'ht  them.  When  spring  came  they  showed  intense 
eagerness  for  the  first  greens  from  the  woods.  And  later, 
when  he  plucked  lily  pads,  and  brought  them  fresh  and 
wet  to  his  pets,  they  almost  seemed  to  thank  him  with 
their  great  lustrous  eyes. 


MIJIITFOOT    AND    HIS    COMPANION'S. 


did  not  wait  a  minute  to  examine  it,  but  made  all  haste 
to  bring  his  father  to  secure  the  captive.  Soon  they  re- 
turned in  the  canoe  with  whatever  they  might  need  to 
take  the  animal  home  alive,  and  after  much  struggle  Dick 
had  the  long-wished-for  gratification  of  a  deer  safely  shut 
into  the  great  log  barn.  His  father  showed  h'im  by  the 
horns  that  the  creature  was  two  years  old,  and  assured 
him  that  by  careful  management  it  would  become  tame 
during  the  winter. 

The  nearest  neighbor  was  hired  to  assist  him,  and  in  a 
few  days  they  had  constructed  a  high  stockade  back  of 
the  barn,  inclosing  nearly  an  acre  of  ground,  in  the  far- 
ther corner  of  which  was  a  never-failing  spring  surround- 
ed by  a  dense  little  grove.  The  stockade  was  built  by  dig- 
ging a  narrow  ditch  some  two  feet  deep,  and  setting  up  end- 
wise in  it  and  close  together  straight  poles  about  twelve 
feet  long,  and  then  filling  in  the  earth  at  the  bottom  and 
tramping  it  down  hard.  The  barn  formed  one  side  of 
the  stockade,  and  when  the  yard  was  ready  the  back  door 
was  left  open,  and  in  an  hour  or  two  Dick  had  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  the  deer  walking  about  its  new  quarters. 
For  many  days  it  would  not  eat  when  anybody  was  in 
sight,  but  it  contrived  to  live  and  grow,  and  steadily  be- 


The  following  June  two  fawns  wei*e  added  to  the  flock; 
and  these  never  learned  to  be  wild  as  their  mothers  had 
been,  thus  atoning  to  Dick  for  his  overthrow  at  the  cove. 

This  occurred  many,  many  years  ago;  but  "Dick's 
Deer  Park"  is  still  in  existence,  in  Crawford  County,  near 
Meadville,  Pennsylvania,  and  is  now  an  inclosure  of  sev- 
eral acres,  with  an  iron  fence,  a  handsome  hay  barn,  three 
or  four  fanciful  open  sheds,  and  a  herd  of  forty  or  fifty 
deer.  Their  tameuess  shows  the  remarkable  influence 
of  long-continued  domestication,  it  being  as  difficult  to 
frighten  them  as  if  they  were  a  drove  of  cows. 

It  is  probable  that  quite  a  number  of  my  boy  readers 
live  in  a. part  of  the  country  where  young  deer  can  be 
caught  and  tamed.  Those  that  do,  might,  with  a  little 
trouble,  follow  Dick  Smith's  example,  and  build  for  them- 
selves a  deer  park  with  these  beautiful,  gentle  animals  for 
friends  and  pets.  How  much  better  this  would  be  than 
hunting  and  destroying  them,  as  is  done  by  so  many  boys 
who  fancy  themselves  great  huntsmen  when  they  have 
only  succeeded  in  killing  some  soft -eyed,  timid  fawn, 
which  might  have  been  trapped  with  little  difficulty  and 
converted  into  an  interesting  and  affectionate  playmate 
and  pet. 


AUGUST  28,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


681 


I'LAYINCi    IN    THE    BROOK. 


PERU,    AXD    PRIVATION, 

BY  JAMES  PAYN. 


ARCTIC    TRAVEL. 
I. 


I 


N  modern  clays  it  is  thought  to  be  no  very  great  under- 
taking to  spend  a  winter  171  the  arctic  regions ;  but  in 


I  earlier  times  this  was  not  so:  every  one  shrank  from  the 
dreadful  climate  even  in  summer,  and  feared  the  terrors 
of  the  sunless  land.  It  is  true  that  in  old  times  we  did 
not  possess  all  the  advantages  afforded  by  modern  science 
to  those  who  undertake  arctic  travel,  but  still  it  seems 
strange  that  the  prospect  of  such  an  undertaking  should 
have  been  regarded  with  such  terror. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Certain  Muscovy  merchants,  we  read,  actually  obtained 
a  pardon  for  some  malefactors  condemned  to  death,  on 
condition  that  they  should  remain  a  year  in  Greenland, 
win-re  "all  necessaries  of  clothes  and  provisions  were  to 
be  provided,  and  ample  payment  made  for  accomplishing 
the  task."  The  terms  were  accepted,  and  the  convicts 
embarked;  "but  on  viewing  the  place  of  their  banishment 
they  rejected  the  offer;  they  preferred  death  to  living 
there." 

In  1630,  however,  the  feat  was  accomplished,  against 
the  will  of  him  who  did  it,  under  far  less  favorable  con- 
ditions. Captain  Goodler,  of  the  Salutation,  one  of  the 
vessels  engaged  in  the  whale-fishery,  left  the  Foreland  for 
'  Green  Harbor,  in  order  to  take  in  twenty  men  who  had 
been  transferred  to  one  of  the  other  vessels.  Finding  him- 
self near  a  part  of  the  coast  famous  for  the  abundance  of 
its  venison,  he  sent  eight  men  ashore  in  a  boat  to  hunt. 
This  was  on  the  15th  of  August.  They  carried  with  them 
a  couple  of  dogs,  a  matchlock,  two  lances,  and  a  tinder- 
box,  and  were  so  fortunate  as  to  kill  no  less  than  fourteen 
deer  that  very  day. 

As  they  were  extremely  tired,  they  resolved  to  rest  on 
shore  that  night,  and  return  to  their  ship  the  next  day. 
But  the  weather  being  hazy,  and  much  ice  arising  between 
the  sea  and  the  land,  the  vessel  was  forced  to  stand  out  to 
sea,  and  they  lost  sight  of  her.  "Under  these  circum- 
stances they  decided  to  hunt  along  the  shore  to  Green 
Harbor,  where  she  was  to  pick  up  the  twenty  men.  They 
killed  eight  deer  more,  and,  with  their  boat  well  laden  with 
provisions,  arrived  at  the  place  to  find  that  the  twenty 
men  had  been  picked  up  already,  and  that  their  ship  had 
departed." 

The  time  for  leaving  Greenland  being  the  20th  of  Au- 
gust, they  lost  not  a  moment  in  pushing  into  Bell  Sound, 
the  place  of  general  rendezvous,  some  fifty  miles  away. 
But  though  they  threw  their  venison  overboard,  they 
made  but  slow  progress,  and  "being  without  a  compass, 
and  uncertain  of  the  navigation,  they  reached  the  place 
too  late.  The  fleet,  having  a  fair  wind,  had  sailed  away." 
Their  disappointment  was  very  great,  and  the  misery 
of  being  entirely  deserted  was  increased  by  the  conviction 
that  they  must  winter  in  a  cold,  inhospitable,  and  desolate 
region,  without  anything  wherewith  to  make  themselves 
comfortable. 

If  they  had  been  mere  sailors  taken  at  random,  instead 
of  picked  men  accustomed  to  hunting,  all  would  have  been 
over  with  them.  As  Dr.  Rae,  the  arctic  explorer,  once 
pointed  out  to  me,  this  is  the  real  secret  of  life  or  death  in 
these  regions.  In  his  own  marvellous  expedition  he  had 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  men  with  him,  who  do  not 
waste  powder. 

These  eight  poor  fellows,  however,  were  not  sensible  of 
the  advantage  they  possessed  in  this  respect,  or,  at  all 
events,  it  comforted  them  but  little.  They  only  remem- 
bered stories  of  desertion,  and  how  nine  of  their  fellow- 
countrymen  had  been  abandoned  at  that  very  place  and 
had  come  to  a  miserable  end,  their  bodies  having  been 
found  tin-  next  spring,  ••miserably  disfigured  by  beasts  of 
prey." 

They  took  counsel,  and  resolved  to  winter  at  Bell 
Sound,  where  a  hut  had  been  built  by  the  Dutch  for  the 
whalemen.  It  was,  however,  eighty  feet  long  and  fifty 
broad,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to  build  a  much  smaller 
compartment  within  it  for  themselves.  They  were  thus, 
it  will  be  observed,  well  provided  with  iire-wood — an  im- 
mense advantage  in  those  regions. 

Even  provisions  were  not  wanting,  though  at  first  fresh 
meat  was  so  scarce  that  they  confined  themselves  to  one 
meal  a  day.  On  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  they  had  only 
whale  fritters — scraps  of  fat  thrown  away  after  the  oil  had 
been  extracted.  They  mended  their  clothes,  which  were 
worn  out,  as  well  as  they  could  with  threads  of  rope-yarn 
and  needles  of  whalebone. 


On  the  14th  of  October  the  sun  sank  to  rise  no  more 
for  months,  and  their  spirits  sank  with  it.  Nevertheless 
"  the  moon  was  m  view  all  this  time  both  night  and  day, 
shining  for  the  most  part  as  it  does  during  bright  weather 
in  England.  When  it  was  obscured  they  used  an  oil  lamp 
with  wicks  made  from  rope-yarn." 

As  the  new  year  commenced  the  cold  grew  more  in- 
tense; "blisters  would  rise  on  the  poor  fellows'  nesh  as 
though  they  had  been  burned  with  fire,  and  iron  stuck  to 
their  fingers  like  bird-lime."  At  first  they  procured  fresh- 
water from  a  spring  beneath  a  cliff  and  under  thick  ice; 
but  from  the  10th  of  January  until  the  20th  of  May  they 
had  to  melt  the  snow  for  it  with  hot  irons. 

During  February  no  less  than  forty  bears  visited  the 
hut,  of  which  seven  were  killed,  and  they  trapped  fifty 
foxes.  On  the  24th  of  May  the  first  deer  was  seen,  but 
their  only  remaining  dog  had  grown  so  fat  and  lazy  that 
it  refused  to  hunt.  On  the  next  day,  "being  all  but  one, 
Thomas  Ayers,  collected  together  for  prayers  in  the  small 
er  hut,  they  suddenly  heard  voices  calling  '  Hey !'  to 
which,  not  without  surprise  (as  one  can  well  imagine), 
Ayers  answered,  after  the  custom  of  seamen,  '  Ho!'  " 

Their  visitors  were  from  two  Hull  steamers  just  arrived 
at  Bell  Sound,  and  much  astonished  they  were  at  the  sight 
of  the  eight  men  "in  rags  and  blackened  with  smoke."  On 
;he  other  hand,  they  were  "well  entertained  with  venison, 
roasted  four  months  ago,  and  a  cup  of  water,  which  on  ac- 
count of  the  novelty  they  accepted."  The  Greenland  fleet 
arrived  two  days  afterward,  with  Captain  Goodler  him- 
:elf,  who  spared  nothing  to  promote  the  comfort  of  the 
castaways. 

What  strikes  us  here  is  the  good  fortune  these  men  en- 
joyed in  losing  none  of  their  number;  but  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  they  had  a  roof  over  their  heads,  and  fire- 
wood, and  above  all  could  provide  themselves  with  pro- 
visions. The  general  experience  of  those  who.have  been 
in  like  condition  has  been  very  different. 

II. 

Only  four  years  afterward  the  Dutch  government  oiler- 
ed  inducements  to  any  party  of  Greenland  whale-fishers 
who  would  winter  on  the  island  of  St.  Maurice,  common- 
ly called  Mayer's  Island,  from  John  Mayer,  its  discoverer. 
It  lies  between  seventy-one  and  seventy-two  degrees  of 
north  latitude  (whereas  that  of  the  little  English  settle- 
ment above  described  was  sixty-seven  degrees),  but  is  bar- 
ren, mountainous,  and  inhospitable  enough. 

Seven  Dutch  sailors  volunteered  for  this  adventure,  and 
were  left  behind  by  the  lleet,  accordingly,  oil  the  26th  of 
August.  At  that  time  "  the  heat  of  the  sun  was  so  power- 
ful that  they  pulled  off  their  shirts,  and  sported  on  a  hill 
near  their  abode."  There  was  an  abundance  of  sea-gulls, 
and  a  few  vegetables — or  at  least  something  that  served 
for  salad — grew  in  the  vicinity. 

They  did  not  resort  to  fires  until  the  9th  of  October. 
As  winter  advanced,  however,  their  privations  set  in  with 
unaccustomed  .severity.  At  the  end  of  the  old  year  they 
"went  to  prayers,  wishing  each  other  a  happy  new 
year  and  good  success  in  their  enterprise."  This  is  the 
last  glimpse,  of  cheerfulness  we  get  among  them. 

January  was  dark  and  stormy;  bears  were  scarce,  and 
the  poor  fellows  had  little  skill  in  killing  them.  In  March 
many  of  them  were  attacked  by  that  arctic  scourge,  scur 
vy,  caused  by  the  absence  of  fresh  provisions.  On  the  3d 
of  April  only  two  were  in  health,  and  the  rest  extremely 
ill.  On  that  day  the  last  two  of  the  pullets  that  had  been 
left  them  were  killed.  The  "clerk"  (i.e., I  suppose,  the 
purser)  died  mi  the  Kith,  whereupon  the  rest  implored 
Heaven  to  have  mercy  upon,  his  soul  and  on  them- 
selves. 

They  were,  indeed,  in  sad  straits  by  that  time.  On  the 
23d  one  writes  in  his  journal— and  the  journal  is  all  the 
record  we  have  of  their  doings,  for  they  all  perished: 


AUGUST  28,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


c;s;] 


"  We  are  by  this  time  reduced  to  ;i  deplorable  state,  none 
of  my  comrades  being  able  to  help  himself,  much  less  an- 
other; the  whole  burden,  therefore,  lies  011  my  shoulders. 
and  I  shall  perform  my  duty  as  well  as  I  am  able  so  long 
as  it  pleases  God  to  give  me  strength.  I  am  just  now 
about  to  assist  our  commander  out  of  his  cabin;  he  thinks 
it  will  relieve  his  pain,  for  he  is  struggling  with  death. 
The  night  is  dark,  and  the  wind  blowing  from  the 
south." 

What  a  miserable  utterance  of  human  misery  is  this! 
How  difficult  it  is,  as  one  reads  it,  to  reflect  that  all  this 
happened  two  centuries  and  a  half  ago!  One  seems  to 
hear  the  moans  of  those  solitary,  sick  men  even  now.  On 
the  27th  of  April,  we  read,  they  killed  their  dog.  As  there 
is  no  further  note  of  what  took  place,  it  is  supposed  they 
must  have  all  died  in  the  beginning  of  May. 

On  the  4th  of  June  the  Dutch  landed  to  seek  for  their 
comrades,  and  "presaged  ill  from  their  not  having  come 
down  to  the  shore  to  welcome  them."  They  found  them 
all  dead  men.  "  Near  one  of  the  bodies  stood  some  bread 
and  cheese  ;  a  box  of  ointment,  with  which  he  was  wont 
to  rub  his  teeth  and  joints,  beside  another.  irli<>nf  arm  teas 
i.i-li'iiilc/l  toward  his  mouth  ;  a  prayer-book  was  near  a 
third.  Each  of  the  men  was  found  in  his  own  cabin." 
The  commander  of  the  fleet  caused  the  bodies  to  be  put 
in  coffins,  "and  interred,  on  St.  John's  Day.  under  a  gen- 
eral discharge  of  cannon." 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.* 


BV     MltS.    ~VV.    J. 

AUTHOR  OF  "PRINCESS  IDLEWAYS,"  "Puii.'s  FAIHIKI-,"  i.n 


CHAPTER  X. 

J-     said   Leo,   "you  are   not  going   t.>   stop.   1 
hope." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Paz,  cheerfully.  "  I  can  spin  yarns  with 
any  sailor.  What  will  you  have  now  .'" 

"Something  funny." 

"I  wish  I  could  oblige  you,  but  fun  is  not  my  strong 
point.  I  went  from  Greenland  to  the  South  Seas  one  day 
in  search  of  a  laugh,  but  I  failed  to  find  it;  indeed,  I  came 
near  doing  worse,  for  in  getting  into  the  hoop  of  a  native's 
nose-ring  for  a  swing — just  by  way  of  a  new  sensation — I 
forgot  to  make  myself  invisible,  and  he  caught  me,  thought 
I  was  a  spider,  and  would  have  crushed  me,  had  not  a  baby 
put  out  its  little  hands  in  glee  to  play  with  me.  I  can 
assure  you  I  was  for  a  time  averse  to  trying  new  sensa- 
tions." 

"How  did  you  get  out  of  your  scrape     ' 

"  I  travelled  down  that  baby's  back  in  a  hurry,  and  hid 
in  an  ant-hill;  he  poked  about  with  his  little  black  fingers 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  but  he  did  not  find  me.  Ah, 
those  were  the  days  of  my  youth  !" 

"  Do  you  ever  have  anything  to  do  with  witches  ?" 

"Mark  my  words,  ghosts  and  witches  live  only  in  the 
imagination  of  silly  human  beings.  We  useful  people 
scorn  them.  Now  imps  might  be  said  to  belong  to  the 
same  family  were  it  not  for  the  proofs  we  have  of  their 
existence.  They  are  everlastingly  getting  children  into 
trouble  by  suggesting  things  to  them  they  never  would 
have  thought  of — 

"Such  as  what?" 

' '  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  tell  you  ?  No,  indeed ; 
they  can  do  it  fast  enough  for  themselves.  Persons  who 
take  too  much  wine  are  their  most  constant  companions; 
they  pounce  upon  them  and  twitch  and  tease  and  torment 
them  until  the  poor  wine -bibber  trembles  from  head  to 
foot.  They  won't  let  him  sleep  or  eat  or  think,  and  fairly 


*  Begun  in  No.  19.">  HARPER'S  YOUNO  PEOPLE. 


drive  him  crazy.     Oh,  imps  are  really  to  be  dreaded!    But 
I  must  now  begin  my  second  story." 

PAZ'S  SECOND  STORY. 

"There  was  to  be  a  grand  birthday  festival  among  the 
Fays,  who  inhabit  the  tropics.  The  wind  fairies  had 
brought  us  news  of  it  as  well  as  urgent  invitations  for 
our  royal  family  to  be  present;  but  so  deeply  engrossed 
was  our  King  at  that  moment  in  supplying  the  oil 
wells  of  Pennsylvania  with  petroleum  that  he  could  not 
absent  himself.  The  Queen  never  goes  from  home  with- 
out her  liege  lord. 

"The  princes  and  princesses  were  all  too  young,  and 
could  not  be  allowed  to  leave  their  lessons;  so  the  regrets 
were  inscribed  on  lotus  leaves,  and  sent  by  special  mes- 
senger— a  bird  of  the  Cypselina  family.  He  was  a  great 
sooty-black  fellow,  with  a  tinge  of  green  in  his  feathers, 
strong,  well  able  to  fly  far.  as  his  family  generally  do  from 
America  to  Asia.  But  the  gift  could  not  be  intrusted  to 
him.  I  was  chosen  as  bearer  of  that. 

"Much  discussion  had  taken  place  as  to  what  this  gift 
should  be.  It  was  desirable  that  nothing  ordinary  should 
be  offered,  for  the  Kays  are,  as  a  rule,  fastidious.  Gems 
they  possess  in  abundance.  Flowers  are  so  common  that 
their  beds  are  made  of  them.  Their  books  are  'the  run- 
ning brooks.'and  their  art  treasures  hang  on  every  bough. 
The  Queen  had  woven  a  veil  of  lace,  with  her  own  fingers; 
it  was  tilmy  and  exquisite,  but  my  heart  sank  within  me 
when  she  declared  that  nothing  less  than  a  wreath  of 
snow-flakes  must  accompany  it.  To  obtain  this  wreath 
and  carry  it  to  the  Fays  as  a  birthday  gift  was  to  be  my 
duty. 

"How  should  I  accomplish  it  '  I  dared  not  suggest  the 
difficulties,  for  at  once  I  should  have  been  displaced,  and 
another  elf  chosen  for  the  performance  of  this  arduous 
task.  Besides,  if  it  could  be  accomplished  by  any  one,  I 
must  be  that  person,  having  always  been  unwilling  ever 
to  allow  difficulties  to  deter  me  from  any  duty.  Pride  of 
the  right  sort  is  a  great  help.  I  went  to  the  frost-work- 
ers and  told  them  what  I  wanted.  They  said  they  could 
imitate  any  flower;  but  the  Queen  had  expressly  said  that 
the  wreath  must  be  of  snow-flakes.  Now  the  fantastic 
impulse  of  a  snow-storm  is  well  known,  but  it  is  not  so 
generally  known  that  there  is  a  scientific  accuracy  even  in 
the  formation  of  snow-flakes." 

Here  Paz  stopped,  shook  his  head,  smiled,  and  said:  "  I 
do  believe  I  am  as  bad  as  Knops. " 

"  Please  go  on,"  said  Leo. 

"Well,  you  must  forgive  me,  for  I  shall  have  to  tell 
you  that  the  frost-workers  said  there  were  no  less  than 
a  thousand  different  forms  among  the  crystals  of  which 
snow-flakes  are  made. 

"  Now  how  could  I  tell  what  pattern  to  choose  ?  It  was 
impossible;  so  I  told  them  I  should  have  nothing  to  do 
with  the  pattern.  '  Make  the  wreath,'  said  I,  '  box  it,  and 
I  will  carry  it,  or  die  ill  the  attempt.' 

"  They  did  so.  The  crystals  were  more  beautiful  than 
diamond  stars.  They  put  it  in  a  solid  square  of  ice,  which 
was  packed  in  charcoal  and  straw,  and  then  cased  in  cocoa 
matting.  To  this  I  attached  cords,  and  slung  it  about  my 
neck.  The  veil,  in  a  satin  case  half  an  inch  square,  was 
in  my  wallet. 

"I  started  in  the  track  of  the  marten  that  carried  the 
dispatches,  but  changed  my  course  many  times,  striving 
to  keep  in  cold  currents.  Finding,  however,  that  as  I  near- 
ed  the  Equator  this  was  impossible,  I  took  to  the  sea,  and 
•went  down  to  its  highway.  Of  course  I  had  on  garments 
impervious  to  water — that  is  to  say,  water-proof — and  my 
wallet  was  as  dry  as  a  bone :  but  not  being  in  the  habit  of 
travelling  under  ocean,  my  eyes  were  a  little  affected  by 
the  salt,  and  I  became  conscious  that  I  was  being  followed. 

"  Fishes,  you  know,  are  not  down  on  the  hard  rocky  bed 
of  the  sea,  and  I  had  passed  the  homes  of  mermen,  so  I  was 


GSi 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


puzzled  to  know  who  could  be  my  enemy.  I  would  not 
so  much  as  betray  my  fears  by  looking  behind,  and  I  had 
enough  to  do  in  looking  forward,  for  at  every  other  step 
there  were  fissures  which  had  to  be  leaped,  deep  abysses  to 
be  avoided,  chasms  to  be  crossed,  and  sands  which  might 
engulf  me. 

"Still,  as  I  straggled  on,  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  other 
feet  following  mine,  now  nearing  me,  now  farther  away, 
us  my  speed  asserted  itself.  It  made  me  shiver  to  think 
what'  might  be  my  fate,  and  I  cau  honestly  say  that  the 
thought  of  failing  to  fulfill  my  errand  bore  as  heavily 
upon  me  as  the  sense  of  personal  dangers;  for  it  is  a  great 
thing  to  be  trusted,  to  be  looked  upon  as  honest  and  true, 


and  deemed  capable  of  transacting  affairs  even  of  small 
moment. 

"  But  this  was  not  a  trifling  matter.  The  neglect  to  de- 
liver this  gift  could  bring  about  serious  trouble.  The  Fays 
were  our  friends,  and  friendship  is  never  to  be  slighted. 
It  is  not  kind  to  allow  selfish  matters  to  stand  in  the  way 
when  we  are  bidden  to  a  joyous  celebration,  and  had  not 
our  King  felt  that  the  claims  of  man  were  more  urgent 
than  those  of  the  Fays  he  would  have  attended  this  feast 
in  person.  As  he  could  not,  the  gift  was  to  represent  him. 
I  trust  I  have  made  it  clear  to  you." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Leo.  ''But  I  am  crazy  to  know  who 
was  following  you." 


"So  was  I  at  that  time,  and  I  resolved  to  get  into  the 
first  empty  shell  I  could  find  where  I  might  hide.  There 
was  soon  an  opportunity.  A  heap  of  cast-off  shells  pre- 
sented itself,  and  I  popped  into  an  enormous  crab  cov- 
er where  I  waited  for  my  unknown  companion  to  over- 
take me. 

"As  the  steps  came  near  I  peeped  carefully  out,  and 
what  should  I  see  but  an  ugly  South  American  river- 
wolf,  about  three  and  a  half  feet  long,  with  a  short  close 
fur  of  a  bright  ruddy  yellow.      I  could  not  imagine  what 
had  brought  him  after  me,  but  the  ways  of  the  wicked  are 
often  difficult  to  explain.     There  he  was,  and  if  once  he 
could  get  me  within  reach  I  was  lost.      On  he  came,  snuf- 
fing and  barking  like  a  dog,  making  my  very  hair  stand 
on  end.     I  waited  for  him  to  pass,  but  I  think  his  in- 
stinct must  have  told  him  I  had  paused,  for  he  began  to 
turn  over  the  shells  with  his  ugly  nose  as  if  searching 
for  something.     My  single  weapon  was  a  small  dirk, 
as  we  kill  only  in  self-defense. 

"Bracing  myself  against  the  wall  of  my  slight  shel- 
ter, I  stood  in  expectation  of  an  assault,  and  I  had  not 
long  to  wait.  With  an  angry  cry  he  rushed  upon  me. 
His  size  seemed  to  me  enormous,  but  my  little  knife 
was  a  trusty  blade,  and  with  a  great  effort  I  drew  it 
across  his  dreadful  throat. 

"I  will  not  dwell  on  these  particulars.  I  had 
overcome  my  enemy.  I  resumed  my  journey,  and 
soon  came  to  a  region  of  the  most  beautiful  water- 
plants  growing  in  greatest  profusion.  I  knew  by  these 
that  I  was  not  far  from  the  home  of  the  Fays. 

' '  I  neglected  to  tell  you  that  before  starting  out  the 
chief  frost-worker  had  given  me  a  small  vial  of  a  clear 
liquid,  which,  in  case  of  any  danger  from  heat,  I  was 
to  use  for  the  preservation  of  the  snow  wreath.  In 
my  tussle  with  the  wolf  this  vial  must  have  become 
partly  uncorked,  for  I  became  aware  of  a  strong  odor 
diffusing  itself  about  me,  and  an  overpowering  sleepi- 
ness getting  the  better  of  me.  I  had  drawn  the  bottle 
out,  recorked  it,  and  put  it  away  again  ;  but  this  was 
no  sooner  done  than  I  fell  in  a  sleepy  swoon  on  the 
road-side. 

"I  have  no  idea  how  long  I  slept:  there  is  neither 
clay  nor  night  down  there,  only  a  dim  sort  of  twilight, 
which  at  times  becomes  illuminated  by  the  phosphor- 
escent rays  of  fishes,  or  the  fitful  gleam  of  ocean  glow- 
worms. I  was  startled  from  my  swoon  by  a  rattling, 
dragging  noise,  and  came  very  near  being  scooped  up 
by  an  uncouth-looking  iron  thing  which  was  attached 
to  a  cable.  It  flashed  upon  me,  stupid  as  I  was,  that 
this  must  be  a  deep-sea  dredge;  and  as  I  was  not  at  all 
inclined  to  be  hauled  up  on  shipboard  in  a  lot  of  mud 
and  shells  as  a  rare  specimen  of  the  sea,  I  got  as  quick- 
ly out  of  the  way  as  possible. 

"But  it  was  now  time  for  me  to  get  011  terra  firma, 
as  Knops  would  say,  or  dry  land,  as  I  prefer  to  put  it. 
Among  the  beautiful  vermilion  leaves  or  tentacles  of 
the  curious  half  animals  and  half  flowers  I  observed  a 
vine  not  unlike  the  honeysuckle,  only  of  tougher  fibre. 
On  this  I  clambered  up  to  take  a  look  about  me,  and  dis- 
covered that  I  was  much  nearer  shore  than  I  supposed. 
Hardly  had  I  done  this  when,  to  my  horror,  I  saw  the  arms 
of  an  octopus  stretching  out  toward  me,  its  horrid  beak  pro- 
jecting from  between  its  ugly  eyes.     More  alarmed  than 
at  any  previous  danger,  I  strove  to  retain  my  self-com- 
mand, but  the  fearful  creature  was  already  touching  me. 
Remembering,  with  wits  sharpened  by  distress,  the  effect 
of  I  lie  drug  in  my  little  bottle,  I  drew  out  the  cork,  and 
making  a  sudden  lungp,  dashed  the  ether  in  its  face— if 
you  can  so  call  any  part  of  its  disgusting  head. 

"Instantly  it  lost  all  power  over  its  members,  curled  up 
in  a  writhing,  wriggling  mass,  and  I  with  a  bound  reach- 
ed the  sandy  shore." 

[TO    BE    COXTIXfF.II.] 


AUGUST  28,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Romantic  Adventure  j-of-Three-Tailors^ 


hree' little- men-went  aj  egg!  ng.alon  g- 
Along.in- the- sunshiny  'Weafher« 
And-fhey  laughed- and- (hey- sang.an-occasionaj- song 

Which-fhey  all-of-fhenrvcaroled-togefher- 
And-fhe-grearwhiie-clouds-floated-over- (he-sky' 
And;fhe-day-it.was-warm-and-the-sun-it_-was.high 

Asfruee-jollytailor-mervall-were-fhey. 
As-youUfind-in-a-dozen-of. years- 
One-carried  fhe-yardstick-anofher-fhe -goo je 
And-  (he-brave  s  r-of-  al  l-bore  -the 

shears- 
5o-(hey-merrily-trudged-until-after 

awhile  - 

They'Came-where-fhree-milk- 
maids-5ai-  all-on-a-sfile  - 

The-grass-if-was-green-and-fhe 

flo\\/e  r  s  -wsrc- 
And-/r-was-fhe  pleasanfesT-fiV 

-weather- 
And-fhc-milkmaids-\vere 

pretty -a$'blos$orns-in- A  ay-\\ 
As  (tiey-jat-on-flne-stile-    \ 

all-togefher- 

Then-(hey-5topped-on-fhe-high- 
-way- those -fliree-gallanMnen 
For-fhey-  never-  had  -seen.- as  fair 


Then-up-5pakefhe-first-of-fhe- 

tailor-men-fhree- 
And-fhe-one-wifh-fhe-goodliest 

parts 

We-are-all-of-u  5- good-men- gal  I  ant' 

and- 

And-have-never-yet-plighted-our-hearts 
5o.prifhee.fair-maid$-will-you-rnarry-us-all- 
ror-our-hearis-fhey-be-great^mo'-our-bodies-be-smail 

Then- up -spake-fhe-first-of- the- three-pretty-dears- 
"Pray-tell-what-your-fortunes-may-be-sir-" 

"Oh-fhree-loving-hearts-and-a-yard-goose-and-si 
"Thenyou've-not-enough-forlune-ror-me'Sip- 

A  »i  i.i  t  _j.-ll_^ 


For-richer-young-men-we-shall-marry-J-ween 

Three-lift  fe- tailor- me  n-jogging- 

Along-in-fhe- sunshiny  -weafher- 

No./ongep'fhey-laugh-with-a-jest-and.a-song 
But-fhey-\valk.-very-5adjy-fogefner- 

For-when-maidenj-are-proud'like-fhe-milkmaidens 

The-lads-fhey-grow-^ad-like-fhe-tai/ors-so-Md 


GSH 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


STANDING  UP  FOE  OUR  EIGHTS. 
"  TIT  II  AT  do  you  think?"  said  Lewis,  addn-ss- 

VV  ing  mo.  Lewis  and  his  brother  Dick  had 
been  having  a  discussion.  It  had  almost  grown 
into  a  quarrel,  f<  >r  bol  h  the  boys  were  very  much 
in  earnest.  You  will  laugh  when  I  tell  you  that 
the  qmMion  was  .simply  which  young  gentleman 
should  lie  in  the  hammock  and  read  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE, and  which  should  go  with  sister  Blanche  to 
the  church  and  blow  the  organ  for  her  daily 
practice. 

"It's  my  turn  to  have  the  paper  first,"  said 
Lewis,  "and  I'm  only  standing  up  for  my  rights. 
Besides,  1  hate  to  blow  that  old  organ." 

"  It's  my  turn,"  replied  Dick,  "  to  stay  at  home 
and  enjoy  myself,  for  I  went  with  Blanche  twice 
last  week  when  you  were  ill." 

"  A  fellow  can't  help  having  a  headache." 

"  No."  Dick  answered,  scornfully,  "not  if  he 
eats  too  much  plum-cake,  as  you  did." 

"Boys"  (this  was  mother's  voice),  "I  should 
think  cither  ..f  you  would  like  to  go  with  your 
sister.  How  can  you  be  so  selfish?  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  lock  YOUNG  PEOPLE  up  until  to-mor- 
row if  this  goe~  on 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  ray  little  friend  ap- 
pealed to  me.  You  may  imagine  how  I  felt  at 
the  bare  mention  of  so  dreadful  a  thing  as  the 
turning  of  a  key  on  my  beloved  YOUNG  PEOPLE, 
and  I  was  really  quite  troubled  that  two  manly 
boys,  of  whom  I  had,  upon  the  whole,  a  high 
opinion,  should  waste  their  time  and  become 
angry  about  such  a  trifle.  But  I  have  lived  long 
enough  to  know  that  most  of  the  disputes  in  t  he 
world  begin  about  nothing.  A  very  little  self- 
denial  on  somebody's  part  would  prevent  most 
of  them  ;  the  Golden  Rule,  "Do  unto  others  as 
you  would  that  others  should  do  unto  you," 
would  make  the  rest  impossible. 

"Boys,"  I  said,  dropping  my  fancy-work,  and 
looking  into  the  two  flushed  faces,  "  there  is  a 
better  thing  than  standing  up  for  our  rights  :  it 
is  nobler  and  makes  everybody  happier  to  yield 
our  rights  that  we  may  add  to  the  comfort  of 
our  neighbors.  But  only  the  great  souls  do  this. 
Small  minds  never  think  of  others  first." 

Just  then  Blanche  called,  "Come,  dear;  I'm 
ready  to  go." 

I  was  delighted  when  both  brothers  hastened 
down  the  garden.  Lewis  carried  her  music,  Dick 
held  the  gate  open,  and  the  three  went  along  the 
shady  street  in  company.  I  learned  afterward 
that  they  took  turns  in  blowing  the  organ,  and 
toward  evening  I  saw  Hiss  Blanche  in  the  ham- 
mock, while  Dick  was  swinging  her  gently,  and 
Lewis  was  reading  aloud  to  her. 


ELIZABETHPORT,  New  JERSRY. 

I  have  read  so  much  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE  about 
silk  quilts  and  cushions,  I  thought  I  would  tell 
you  and  the  readers  how  to  make  a  cushion  like 
mine.  First  procure  a  piece  of  muslin  the  size 
you  desire  your  cushion  to  be,  and  begin  by 
stitching  a  piece  of  velvet  or  plush  in  tin-  very 
centre  of  it.  Thru  stitch  a  piece  of  light  silk 
down  on  one  of  the  sides,  then  add  another  piece 
of  the  same  color,  keeping  right  on  aromnl.  then 
a  piece  of  dark,  then  another  of  dark,  and  then 
the  light  again,  and  so  on  until  you  have  pii-ec-d 
down  t<t  tl  -'1-e.  Edge  with  cream-tinted  lace. 
This  will  n.::  •  a  pretty  top  to  the  cushion.  Be 
very  careful  to  have  all  your  pieces  of  silk  of  the 
same  length  and  width.  Of  course  you  have  to 
widen  as  yc  ni  near  the  bottom.  I  will  be  pleased 
if  the  Postmistress  tries  to  make  one.  T.  E.  II. 


,  NEBRA 


rKKUUHT,    FIBBRASKA. 

I  have  not  written  in  so  long  a  time.  I  thought 
I  would  write.  My  sister  has  a  cat ;  my  bn  ii  her 
ami  I  own  a  cat  too.  My  brother  is  going  to 
have  a  white  rabbit  with  pink  eyes,  so  is  my  sis- 
ter, and  so  am  I.  Papa  is  going  to  Omaha  next 
week  ;  afterward  my  brother  is  going,  and  then  I. 

Bur.NELL  C. 


NORTHPORT,  NEW  YORK-, 

I  am  spending  the  summer  by  the  Sound,  and 
enjoy  bathing  very  much.  We  have  thirteen 
pigeon  i  in -y  are  very  tame,  and  eat  out  of  my 
hand,  and  hop  on  my  head.  We  have  a  largo 
dog  named  Eex,  and  a  cat  named  Tom  Black- 
nose,  u  e  have  also  a  squirrel  named  Frit/,,  and 
two  horses  whose  names  are  Bessie  and  Jennie. 


I  had  a  beautiful  canary,  which  would  perch  on 
my  linger  and  kiss  nie.  but  the  cat  .'aught  it,  and 
it  died  from  fright.  Its  grave  is  in  the  garden. 

EDITH  V.  D. 


BROOKLYN,  NEW  YORK. 

I  thought  I  would  write  to-day  and  send  you  a 
piece  of  poetry  my  aunt  wrote  about  our  dog 
Dart.  It  is  all  true.  I  hope  you  will  think  it  is 
good  enough  to  print  in  the  Post-office  Box.  My 
aunt  says  she  is  afraid  it  is  too  long.  I  was  little 
Goo-goo  when  Dart  ran  away,  but  now  I  am  ten 
years  old.  and  Dart  is  an  old  dog,  and  has  the 
rheumatism.  With  kind  regards  to  you,  I  am 
GOUVEKNEUI:  K.  s. 

The  children  will  be  very  much  obliged  to  you 
for  sharing  this  pretty  bit  of  rhyme  with  them. 

DAET'S  ESCAPE. 

We  have  the  prettiest  doggie 
That  ever  you  did  see. 
His  hair  so  soft  and  silky, 
His  eye  so  dark  and  clear; 
So  quick  in  all  his  motions 
That  we  have  called  him  Dart, 
For  scarce  a  door  is  opened 
But  through  you  see  him  start. 

He  came  across  the  ocean 
From  the  far-off  isle  of  Skye, 
And  for  his  home  we  wonder 
If  he  ever  heaves  a  sigh; 
For  we  live  within  the  city, 
And  only  have  a  yard 
For  little  Dart  to  play  in  : 
No  doubt  he  thinks  it  hard. 

One  morning  after  breakfast, 

When  papa  he  had  left, 

And  Dart,  out  in  the  yard, 

Was  barking  at  the  cats 

That  promenade  the  fences 

Instead  of  catching  rats, 

The  cook  to  get  the  ashes 

Oped  wide  the  kitchen  door. 

Dart  peeped  right  through  the  doorway, 

And  saw  the  front  door  too 
Was  standing  with  the  area 
Right  open  to  the  view  ; 
He  took  one  right  quick  look, 
Then  slipped  beside  the  cook, 
And  out  into  the  street 
He  ran  with  flying  feet. 

Ah.  then  the  great  commotion, 
The  children  up  in  arms! 
Kate  .jumped  from  the  piano 
All  full  of  wild  alarms; 
Charlie  In-  was  silent. 
Too  manly  for  to  cry: 
The  dog  belonged  to  him. 
And  he  valued  him  so  high. 

Dear  little  Goo-goo  he 
First  stood  in  mute  surprise, 
Then  seemed  to  think  'twas  fnn 
He  raised  his  bright  blue  eyes, 
And  to  my  face  looked  up 
Ilalf-langhingly  to  say, 
"  I'll  tell  papa  to-night 
That  Dart  has  run'd  away." 

The  cook  forgot  her  ashes, 
The  maids  start  up  in  fright, 
But  Dart,  like  lightning  flashes, 
Is  quickly  out  of  sight; 
But  to  the  nearest  corner 
Maggie  ran  without  her  hat, 
And  Mary  tried  the  other 
In  hopes  he  was  at  that. 

But  so  long  both  staid  away 
That  we  feared  our  darling'  doggie 
We  last  had  seen  that  day. 
Mary  came  back  empty-handed, 
And  sorrowfully  we  stood 
Wishing,  dreading  Maggie's  coming. 
For  we  thought  that  say  she  would. 
"Little  Dart  is  gone  for  good." 

At  last  in  joy  we  saw  her, 
And  from  underneath  her  arm 
Peeped  forth  the  little  scapegraci 
That  had  caused  all  our  alarm  ; 
His  tail  in  glee  was  wagging 
His  ej-e  was  bright  and  clear; 
He'd  had  a  right  good  race, 
And  he  cared  not  for  our  fear. 

We  welcomed  him  right  warmly. 
But  thought  it  wouldn't  do 
Not  to  punish  him  a  little. 
' 


. 

Or  he'd  run  again  we  knew; 
So  to  the  table  tie.) 
He  passed  the  whole'  sad  day; 
lie 
But 


lie  whimpered  and  he  cried 
still  he  had  to  stay. 


Since  then  the  bt-st  of  doggies 

Our  little  Dart  has  been, 

And  when  he  goes  an  airing 

He's  fastened  to  a  string  ; 

He  may  wag  his  tail  and  frisk, 

But  still  we  hold  him  tight 

For  we  will  not  run  tin-  ri>k 

Of  another  such  a  flight.  E.  B.  S. 


NORW-ALK,  OHIO. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  have  thir- 
teen dolls  and  two  cats,  one  of  which  is  six- 
footed.  I  like  to  climb  trees  and  romp  very 
much.  Do  you  like  the  story  of  "Raising  the 
'  Pearl'  "?  I  do,  because  I  like  boys  so  much.  I 
have  written  twice  before,  but  neither  of  my  let- 
ters was  printed;  so  I  thought  I  would  write 
again.  SUSIE  R.  R. 

Please  send  the  Postmistress  your  full  name, 
dear.  It  is  best,  let  me  say,  for  the  children  to 
sign  their  names  in  full,  although  the  initials  only 
are  printed. 


OPELIKA,  ALABAMA. 

I  live  in  a  small  railroad  town,  and  mamma, 
my  little  friend  Kate,  and  I  went  out  to  a  branch 
for  ferns.  We  plant  them  in  pots,  and  they  -row 
beautifully.  I  send  you  a  pressed  leaf.  Kate  and 
1  waded  up  and  down  the  branch,  and  just  as  we 
were  going  into  The  deepest  water  mamma  cried, 
"There's  a  snake!"  But  she  was  mistaken;  it 
was  only  a  frog  jumping  into  the  water,  though 
we  scrambled  lip  the  bank  much  frightened. 
When  you  were  a  little  girl  did  you  love  to  wade 
in  branches? 

I  want  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers.  I  wish 
to  thank  Clemence  L.  for  the  sponge-cake  re- 
ceipt. Mamma  and  I  made  one  by  it  in  my  little 
pan,  and  it  was  a  success.  T.  L.  K. 

Of  course  I  was  perfectly  charmed  to  wade  in 
a  brook  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  I  liked  go- 
ing after  ferns  as  well  as  you  do,  though  I  could 
never  coax  them  to  grow.  I  still  like  to  pick  the 
ferns  and  press  them,  and  I  thank  you  very  much 
for  the  pretty  leaf. 


CMFTON,  STATEN  ISLAND. 

I  wrote  a  letter  not  long  ago,  but  it  was  not 
printed,  so  I  thought  I  would  write  again.  Some 
of  the  readers  wrote  that  they  have  made  crazy 
quilts ;  my  sister  and  I  made  a  crazy  tidy  for  papa, 
and  there  are  more  than  thirty  different  stitches 
in  it.  Two  or  three  weeks  after  Young  People's 
<  'ot.  was  endowed  my  sister  and  myself  were  vis- 
iting a  friend  in  New  York,  and  we  went  to  St. 
Mary's  Hospital  to  see  Sadie.  As  I  was  walking 
through  the  wards  I  saw  several  numbers  of 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  there.  I  think  my  letter  is  rather 

long,  so  I  will  say  g 1-by.    I  send  you  a  receipt 

for  bread-and-butter  pudding.      MARION  L.  Q. 

The  receipt  appears  in  another  column.  I  am 
glad  you  went  to  see  our  little  Sadie. 


KnCHESTER,  NEW   YORK. 

I  thought  I  would  write  a  letter  to  the  Post- 
office  Box,  I  have  so  many  things  to  tell  you.  I 
wrote  once  a  long  time  ago,  but  my  letter  \vas 
not  published.  I  think  there  have  been  so  many 
lovely  pictures  iu  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  the  Jet  tei s 
almost  always  speak  about  the  stories  only.  I 
think  "  A  Beautiful  1) reamer,"  "  Rich  and  Poor," 
"In  a  Thousand  Terrors."  and  "Rocked  in  the 
Cradle  of  the  Deep"  were  splendid.  I  have  had 
YOUNU  PEOPLE  ever  since  the  first  number.  We 
think  it  such  a  nice  paper.  I  get  all  the  little 
girls  I  can  to  take  it.  I  have  got  quite  a  few  to 
take  it.  and  papa  gets  it  for  one  little  girl  besides 
me.  and  he  also  takes  eleven  for  the  Sunday- 
school.  He  is  a  clergyman,  and  the  name  of  his 
mission  is  St.  Mark's. 

I  have  five  sisters  and  two  brothers  older  than 
myself.  We  have  a  dog  named  Dow.  When  tin- 
whistle  blows  for  noon  or  for  six  o'clock  he  sticks 
his  nose  in  the  air  and  begins  to  howl:  sometimes 
he  gets  just  the  tone  of  the  whistle.  We  live  near 
the  bank  of  the  Genesee  River,  and  it  is  lovely 
here  in  summer.  Last  summer  we  got  boats  and 
rowed  clear  down  to  the  lake,  and  when  we  got 
there  it  was  moonlight. 

I  would  like  to  belong  to  the  Little  Housekeep- 
ers. MARGARET  W. 

You  are  very  welcome  as  a  member  of  the  So- 
ciable ;  and  I  am  particularly  pleased  that  you 
like  the  beautiful  pictures  which  make  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  a  feast  to  the  eyes. 

You  show  that  you  sincerely  like  the  paper  by 
your  efforts  to  get  others  to  subscribe  for  it. 
Many  of  the  children  are  doing  this,  and  the  lists 
of  new  subscribers  are  growing.  The  more  peo- 
ple who  take  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  the  better  and  more 
interesting  and  more  beautiful  the  publishers 
will  be  able  to  make  it. 


PLATTE  CITY,  Mi*-,,  1:1. 

lam  twelve  years  old.  and  have  a  brother  who 
is  nineteen.  I  live  near  Fort  Leavenworth.  and 
often  go  there;  also  near  Kansas  City,  which  I 
often  visit.  We  have  a  splendid  school  in  Platte 
City,  which  I  attend,  and  I  have  been  taking  mu- 
sic lessons  for  three  years.  My  brother  plays  on 
the  guitnr.and  he  often  accompanies  mamma  or 
me  on  the  piano.  I  enjoy  .Mrs.  Lillie's  stories 
very  much,  and  was  sorry  that  "In  Honor  Bound" 
was  so  short.  I  have  been  in  the  country  a  part 

:  the  vacation  at  grandma's.  I  enjoy  being  there, 
tor  then  1  can  ride  on  horseback,  and  have  \  ery 
delightful  times.  While  there  I  mad.'  grandm.:L 
a  set  ot  toilet  mats.  I  have  a  collection  of  dolls, 
seventy-eight  iu  number.  I  have  them  on  the 


AHU'ST  UK,  1883. 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


687 


mantel,  ami  they  are  quite  a  curiosity.  Mamma 
has  a  collection  of  Mexican  pottery,  made  by  the 
Vzti  os,  sent  her  liy  my  aunt  frum  Albuquerque. 
I  am  leal  niiii:  to  cook,  and  would  like  t"  be  one 
ipf  the  Little  Housekeepers.  I  send  a  very  nice 
n ei  ipt  [or  cocoa-nut  drops.  GHACIE  M.  M. 

Thanks.  Can  you  find  the  receipt  y  Look  for 
it.  Seventy-eight  dolls  are  enough  to  keep  yon 
busy.  They  must  crowd  the  mantel-piece. 

MoNTK-KI.I.il,  NEW   YnnK. 

I  am  a  little  irirl  eleven  years  old.  and  I  have 
only  one  sifter,  and  she  will  lie  thirteen  in  Sep- 
tember. I  linve  not  taken  YOUNO  PEOPLE  very 
long  so  I  could  not  read  much  of  the  story  of 
'•Nan."  I  like  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  very  mm-h. 
and  wonder  if  he  will  try  any  more  experiments. 
There  is  a  French  family  living  next  c|o,,r  to  us. 
They  have  two  little  girls  about  my  age:  they 
are  twins,  and  their  names  are  Adi  le  and  Emily. 
u  e  luive  tine  times,  although  we  have  no  pets. 
Monticello  is  quite  a  place  for  city  visitors.  Papa 
keeps  a  book-store,  so  I  have  plenty  of  hooks  to 
read,  but  I  think  I  enjoy  YmpN<;  PEOPLE  as  much 
as  any  hook.  MAMIE  A.  S. 

CI>PKMIAI;KV,  Nt\v  YORK. 

I  am  a  hoy  ten  years  old.  I  live  on  a  farm,  and 
am  learning  t..  be  a  farmer.  I  take  your  nice 
paper.  Mamma  lets  me  raise  sage  and  sell  it. 
and  I  keep  the  money  for  my  own.  I  llke"Kais- 

in"  the  '  Pearl'  "  ami  .limmy  Brown's  stories  best 
of  all 

Next  time  .Johnnie  M  is  poisoned  with  ivy,  if 
he  will  apply  sweet  cream  it,  will  cure  him. 

BERTIE  C. 


Sr   .I.isn'ii,  MISSOURI. 

I  have  never  writ  ten  a  letter  to  yon.  so  I  thought 
I  would  write  one.  I  had  a  bird.  hut  tlie  cage  fell 

down,  and  it  Hew  away.     Papa  slot  a  kitten 

in  place  of  it.  I  have  one  little  sister,  who  is  five 
years  old,  and  two  brothers,  one  twelve  and  tin' 
other  nine,  and  I  was  ei^ht  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 
We  have  seven  chickens,  five  of  them  Plymouth 
Kocks  ;  their  names  are  Tom.  pet.  Biddy,  Top- 
knot, l!roWllie.  Speelje.  Mild  Mlowhall  I  L'"  to 

school,  and  am  in  the  sixth  grade.  I  have  been 
very  sick.  Imt  am  \vellnow.  Mybird  was  nami  d 
Dick.  Will  you  please  tell  me  a  name  for  my 
kitten?  On  my  birthday  mamma  •.MVI-  me  a  "loll 
carriage .  My  grandpa  was  here  .m  the  Fourth 

of  July. 

I  did  not  mean  my'cageflew  a  win  .1  nit  my  bird. 
I  wrote  this  all  myself.  MM. I.IK  u.  I). 

I  understood  you,  dear,  about  the  bird;  the 
pronoun  is  all  right.  Would  Frisk  suit  the  kit- 
ten? 


BRICHTI.V,  MICHIGAN. 

I  am  twelve  years  old.  and  I  think  1  have  a  good 
many  pets.  I  have  a  cat  named  Tom,  a  bird 
named  Daisy,  and  nineteen  chickens  Nine  of 
them  are  tame,  and  they  will  eat  out  of  my  hand. 

and  so  will  the  old  hell.      I  have  sore  eye<.      Will 

yon  tell  me  what  is  good  for  them?  I  am  trying 
salt-water  now.  My  papa  is  a  doctor.  1  don't 
like  doctors' medicine ;  do  you?  1  have  plenty 
more  to  tell  you,  but  I  must  stop  I  fear  I  liaxe 
written  too  much  now.  Wednesday  is  a  very 
happy  day  to  me:  you  know  it  brings  YOUNG 
PEOPLE.  GERTIE  McH. 

If  papa  is  a  physician,  he  can  probably  prescribe 
for  the  poor  eyes.  I  think  you  must  run  about 
in  the  fresh  air.  drink  plenty  of  milk,  get  a  good 
long  sleep  every  night  by  going  to  bed  when  the 
chickens  and  birdies  do,  and  become  very  strong 
and  healthy,  and  then  the  eyes  will  not  trouble 
you  much.  Never  read  anything,  dear,  not  even 
the  Post-office  Box,  between  daylight  and  dark. 
It  is  a  very  bail  time  for  eyes  of  any  kind  to  pore 
over  print. 


T.KMI\,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

I  am  living  in  this  country  for  two  years  only. 
I  was  born  in  Germany,  in  the  town  of  Oeynhau- 
sen.  It  is  a  watering-place,  and  every  summer 
there  come  numbers  of  rich  people  to  iise  the 
baths  for  their  health.  There  are  two  kinds  of 
salt-water—one  kind  is  as  yellow  as  a  dandelion, 
and  the  other  is  as  pure  as  crystal,  only  when  you 
go  into  it  you  are  all  covered  with  millions  of 
little  things  which  look  like  pearls,  and  when 
you  touch  them  they  go  up  to  the  surface.  We 
have  a  large  park,  which  is  called  the  Kurgarten. 
Twice  a  day  there  is  a  lovely  concert  in  the  little 
music  house.  Besides  this  there  are  a  reading- 
hall,  a  play-ground,  a  ball-room,  a  theatre,  beauti- 
ful flower  beds,  fountains,  and  a  long  row  of 
booths  nicely  built,  where  yon  may  buy  all  kinds 
of  things.  I  like  the  booth  where  they  sell  dolls 
the  best. 

This  little  city  is  a  dear  little  place— the  best  I 
ever  saw.  From  mamma's  garret  window  we 
can  see  the  Porta  Westfaliea.  That  is  the  place 
where  the  Weser  broke  itself  a  path  through  the 
mountain,  but  since  then  it  has  been  widened, 
and  the  railway  and  many  roads  go  through  it. 
and  there  is  a  suspension-bridge  between  the 
two  mountains.  We  often  went  there  to  pic- 
nics, and  climbed  the  mountains.  There  is  still 


the  little  chapel  where  Widukind.  or  Wittekind, 
was  baptized,  and  I  saw  also  the  place  where 
his  horse  had  kicked  the  ground,  and  a  spring 
e. i me  out  of  the  earth.  I  tasted  the  water,  which 
is  very  cool  and  clear. 

I  want  very  much  to  know  whether  it  is  prop- 
er to  say  something  is  that  long.  Musi  you  not 
say  somethingis«,  i,,m;:  Please  tell  me  I  want 
to' make  something  lor  a  little  baby  fourteen 
nio'i'hsold.  and  I  do  not  know  what.  Could  you 
please  tell  me  some  thinits  I  could  make'-  I  like 
the  letters  and  the  stories  about  musicians  the 
most.  I  think  everybody  ought  to  like  music. 
Don't  you?  A.  S. 

Your  letter  is  charming.  It  is  right  to  say  .TO 
long,  not  MxMong.  You  might  knit  a  little  sacque 
for  the  baby,  or  a  soft  worsted  ball  for  him  to 
play  with,  or  a  bright  hand  to  which  you  might 
faMen  bells  f,,r  him  to  jiiiL'le.  Perhaps  he  would 
like  a  doll,  dressed  in  a  crocheted  suit.  cap.  trou- 
sers,and  jacket,  though  to  manage  the  costume 
nieely  one  must  be  quite  handy  with  the  little 
steel  hook. 

PlTTSFIKI.D,  MASSACHrsKTTl. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS. — We  are  seven  little  eoii^- 
ins  visit  ing  at  grandpa's.  Something  terrible  has 
happened  here  this  summer.  The  house  is  built 
on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  during  a  terrible  thiin- 

(ler  Slower   the    land    on    one    side    of   the    house 

was  washed  out  by  the  rain  to  the  depth  of  seven 

In  i  \.-\i  il:i\  another  tearful  shower  came, 
and  washed  it  out  much  deeper  and  wider,  so 
that  in  the  night,  when  we  all  were  asleep,  the 
fonndat  ions  ea  \  nl  in.  and  the  house  sunk  down 

about   six    feet    on   one  Mile    anil    Waked    IIS   all    11]), 

besides  fi-i-titeuijii:  us  dreadfully.  Several  large 
tree's  were  blown  down  and  fell  over  inlo  the 

hole,  and  one  fell  on  t  he  hoil-.e  and  broke  lots  of 

windows  and  oneehimney.  i;randpa  is  going  lo 
have  the  hole  tilled  up.  and  the  house  raised  into 
po-.it  ii  in  by  jaek  sere\\  s. 

HELEN  W  .  DAVIII  VAN  D.. 

FRKI>  II  ,  WILSON  VAN  D., 

EI.I/A  L.,  AMELIA  W., 

and  JAMES  II. 

You  have  passed  through  a  thrilling  experience, 
and  it  is  a  nn TC\  v.m  all  lived  to  tell  about  it. 
The  thunder  storms,  cyclones,  and  showers  of 
hail  this  summer  have  been  marvellous. 


IlKmiov,  Oiuo. 

1  have  taken  both  Kl.  .ViV/Wwand  Tin  Xflniliii-'x 
Companion,  bu\  I  like  HAIIPEII'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
better  than  either  of  the  others.  My  mamma 
gave  il  to  me  for  a  Christmas  present.  I  think 
"  liaising  the  •  Pearl'"  is  the  best  story  in  it.  I 
am  -oiry  it  is  finished, and  hope  Mr.  utis  will 
\\rite  another  stor\  I  live  with  my  gramlpn  in 

tl nntry.  and  have  a  nice  patch  of  potatoes, 

which  !  ]. hinted  myself.  My  grandpa  lias  two 
large  mi  lies,  a  nd  we' call  one  Jack  and  the  other 
Tom.  The  men  like  to  work  the  mules  better 
1 1, he  horses,  because  they  are  MI  strom: 

I  liail  a  pii -•  ni  of  two  books  this  winter.  The 
Tir/er  Prim;  and  Lillli  Mm.  1  have  had  quite  a 
good  many  hooks  given  to  me.  some  histories  and 
some  story-books.  I  hope  to  have  a  library  si  ime 
time.  I  have  been  going  to  ~choo|  in  the  coun- 
try, but  am  going  to  town  next  year.  I  like  to 
read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box. 

JAMES  E.  E. 

The  way  to  secure  a  library  is  to  begin  just  as 
you  are  doing,  taking  care  of  all  the  good  books 
you  receive  as  gifts,  and  sometimes  buying  one 
with  your  own  money. 

CORRECTION. — In  answer  to  an  inquiry  from  Na- 
than P.  W.  in  the  Post-office  Box  of  our  issue  for 
August  14, 1883,  we  inadvertently  quoted  t  he  price 
for  covers  for  the  volumes  of  HAP,PER'S  Youxo 
I'KOCI.E  at  35  cents,  postage  prepaid.  The  price 
should  have  been  50  cents— 35  cents  being  the 
price  for  the  covers,  and  15  cents  the  cost  of  mail- 
ing.  

Thanks  are  due  for  favors  received  from  Jolm 
1!.,  .Jerome  Henry  F.,  Xettie  Henrietta  M.  (who 
made  the  pretty  sailor  suit  for  her  doll  with  her 
auntie's  help,  and  is  pleased  with  ill.  Mnry  0.  M. 
i  win  ise  dog  died,  and  whose  bird  was  stolen,  but 
who  has  a  ring-dove  for  a  pet  at  present),  Itaisy 
H..  Jennie  llurton  S..  .Tosie  1>.  F.,  Hattie  H..  Joseph 
C.  itry  again,  dear;  an  old  song  says,  "there  is 
luck  in  odd  numbers."  and  so  you  may  find  it), 
Laurence  G.  B.,  and  Pearl  F.— Emily  Lee  T.  must 
not  forget  her  promise  to  send  the  bean-pole 
story. — George  H. :  i  am  very  sorry  to  hear  of  the 
death  of  your  dear  little  brother  Nat  tie  Ii.  H.,  a 
brightboy,  and  a  correspondent  of  the  Post-office 
Box. 


ter  them  :  then  put  a  layer  of  bread,  and  sprinkle 
it  with  raisins,  another  layer  of  bread,  and  so  on. 
until  you  reach  the  top;  make  a  custard  of  a 
quart  of  milk,  three  eggs,  three  table-spoonfuls 
ot  sugar,  and  a  little  cinnamon;  pour  this  over 
the  bread,  and  let  it  stand  half  an  hour;  grate 
a  little  nutmeg  over  it,  and  bake  it  a  nice  brown. 

M.  L.  (t>. 

A  hard  sauce  of  butter  and  sugarbeaten  smooth- 
ly together,  and  flavored  with  vanilla,  will  be  nick 
to  serve  with  this,  and  at  this  season,  when  fresh 
fruit  is  abundant,  you  may  substitute  sliced  ap- 
ples or  cut  peaches  for  the  raisins,  and  the  pud 
ding  will  then  make  what  some  people  call  Ap- 
ple or  Peach  Charlotte,  but  what  the  Postmis- 
tress's children  welcome  on  the  table  as  Brown 
Betty. 

RAILROAD  CAKE.— Two  cups  of  sugar,  two  ami 
a  half  cups  of  flour,  two  thirds  of  a  cup  of  cold 

water,  five  eggs,  one  tea  s| ifnl  of  cream  of 

tartar,  and  hall  a  tea-spoonful  of  soda  ;  beat  the 
sugar  and  yolks  together  ;  sift  the  cream  of  tar- 
tar and  the  flour  together,  and  stir  them  in  with 
the  water;  add  the  beaten  whites  and  the  soda, 
and  bake  in  a  very  hot  oven  fifteen  minutes. 

KATE  il.  M. 

COCOA-NUT  DROPS. — One  pound  of  grated  cocoa- 
nut,  half  a  pound  of  pulverized  sugar,  and  the 
whites  of  six  eggs  beaten  to  a  stiff  froth  ;  drop  on 
buttered  pans,  and  bake.  GRACIE  M.  M. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

THREE    \VOIIII    SQUARES. 

1.— 1.  A  duty.  3.  Something  bitter.  3.  Found 
on  the  dinner  table.  4.  What  Susie  did  with  her 
school  prize. 

2.— 1.  A  wee  bit.  2.  An  opinion.  3.  A  bright 
drop.  4.  What  Johnnie  found  in  the  corn  field. 

3.— 1.  Sound.  3.  The  right  way  to  leave  tin- 
room  doorat  present.  3.  Want.  4.  Terminations. 

MIZPAII. 


No.  3. 

ENIGMA. 

My  first  is  in  grass,  but  not  in  vine. 
My  second  is  in  cow.  but  not  in  kine. 
My  third  is  in  blue,  but  not  in  gray. 
My  fourth  is  in  stand,  but  not  in  lay. 
My  fifth  is  in  one.  but  not  in  two. 
My  sixth  is  in  nail,  but  not  in  screw. 
My  seventh  is  in  fast,  but  not  in  slow. 
My  eighth  is  in  high,  but  not  in  low. 
My  ninth  is  in  Fred,  but  not  in  Roy. 
My  whole  was  a  time  of  peace  and  joy. 

EUREKA. 


No.  3. 

FIVE  CONUNDRUMS. 

1.  Which  is  the  most  ancient  of  the  trees  ' 
3.  When  is  a  boat  like  a  heap  of  snow? 

3.  What  conies  after  cheese? 

4.  What  is  that,  word  of  five  letters  from  which 
if  yon  take  away  two,  only  one  remains? 

r>.  U'hat  time  makes  everybody  glad? 


RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

BREAD-AND-BUTTER  PUDDING.— Take  as  much 
bread  as  will  fill  an  earthenware  pudding  dish  of 
the  size  you  prefer  ;  cut  it  in  thin  slices,  and  but- 


ANSWEIiS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  197. 

S 

P    E   T 

SEVER 

T   E  N 

R 

BOB 

A  nn  A 
S  il  L 
E  e  L 


No.  3. 
No.  4. 


No.  .' 


Platypus. 

C  F 

OLD  TEN 

C    I,    K    A    N  F    K    V    E    R 

DAY  NET 

N  R 

C      ar      P 

H  agga    I 


lari 
oo 

a 

1 


C. 
K 
W 
I 
C 

ar  K 
m  P 
all  A 
ee  P 
r  E 
ea  R 
oar  S 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Edna  Bosworth,  MaryJones,  Eureka.  John- 
nie Sleight.  Lueie  W.  Bradley,  M.  and  L.  Bruek- 
nian,  Charles  II.  Weigle,  Jim..  A.  B.  ('..  Edgar 
Lovejoy,  Willie  W.  Ford,  Charles  E.  and  Arthur 
H.  Tiiumerman.  Willie  Anderson.  Robert  I.  \1 
lee,  Alice  Ebsworth.  Charles  Ilauck.  Emily  Flor- 
ence Day.  Jerome  Hicks.  Anna  Selden.  claribcl, 
liaisy  and  Mel,  Anthony  ii..  Klise  Claiborne,  Car- 
rie L.,  and  Howard  and  Maud  Beecher. 

[for  Exchanges,  see  Sd  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


688 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


gale  themselves  on  birds'  eggs.  Now  the  monkeys  are  more  to  be 
feared  than  all  the  other  egg-eaters,  because  they  can  climb  so 
well. 

From  an  ordinary  nest,  open  at  the  top,  a  monkey  can  easily 
take  the  eggs  with  his  long  slender  fingers.  The  bayu  sparrow 
knuus  this,  sn  she  takes  care  to  hang  her  nest  on  the  very  tips 
of  light  brandies  that  will  not  bear  a  monkey's  weight,  and  to 
inclose  it  on  all  sides,  and  to  enter  it  from  underneath  through 
a  lung  neek--lunger  than  the  monkey's  lingers. 

When  the  monkeys  found  that  she  had  thus  outwitted  them 
they  laid  their  heads  together.  Eggs  they  liked,  and  eggs 
they  must  have,  and  those  of  the  baya  sparrow  were  especially 
tempting.  At  last  they  thought  of  a,  novel  plan  how  to  get 
them. 

One  monkey  climbed  to  a  high  strong  branch  above  that 
from  which  the  nest  was  hung,  and  let  himself  down  from  it, 
holding  on  with  both  hands,  then  another  monkey  crawled 
down,  holding  on  by  the  heels  of  the  first,  and  another  below 
him,  and  so  on  until  they  could  reach  the  nest  of  the  poor  lit- 
tle sparrow,  which  they  plundered. 

This  was  too  bad.  Nevertheless,  the  sparrow  did  not  sit  down 
and  cry  because  the  monkeys  were  so  clever,  and  all  her  eggs 
were  gone.  She  knew  there  is  nothing  a  monkey  hates  so  much 
as  to  get  his  sleek  coat  wet;  he  would  rather  go  without  eggs 
than  do  this.  So  she  hung  her  nest  on  the  extremity  of  a 
branch  stretching  over  the  water,  and  so  low  that  the  entrance 
of  the  nest  was  close  to  the  surface.  The  monkey  thieves  did 
not  dare  to  make  a  chain  of  themselves  lung  enough  to  touch 
that  nest,  for  fear  the  bough  should  bend  and  let  the  lowest 
monkey  go  souse  into  the  water.  Clever  little  sparrow  ! 


"WHAT  ON  EARTH  ABE  YOU  JXHNC  WITH  THI;  CRUET-STAND?" 

"  On,  WE'RE    ONLY    OILING   THE   JOINTS   OF   THE   TORTOISE.    IT   MOVES 

ALONG   30  SLOWLY,  POOR  THING  !'' 


THE  SPARROW  AND  THE  MONKEYS. 

OF  all  the  hanging  nests  the  most  curious  is  made  by  the  lit- 
tle baya  sparrow  of  India.      I  dare  say  jou  wonder  why 
any  birds  build  hanging  nests:  you  may  be.  quite  sure  that  they 
havu   a  reason,  and   this  reason   is,  I   believe,  that  they  think 
them  the  safest. 

In  the  country  where  the  baya  sparrow  lives  there  are  snakes 
and  opossums  and  troops  of  monkeys,  all  of  whom  delight  to  re- 


ENIGMA. 

ABRIDGE  there  is  most   wonderful, 
Yet  o'er  it  never  man  did  go; 
And  strangely,  too,  the  waters  are 

Above  its  span,  and  yet  below. 
The  people  may  go  up  and  down 
Beneath  it.  yet  they  do  not  drown  : 
Tall  ships  sail  through  it.  masted  high: 
Beneath  it  bold  the  song-birds  fly: 
In  wildest  tempest  it  will  stand ; 
Xov  doth  its  keeper  toll  demand. 


A    STUDY    IN   NATURAL    HISTORY. 
DUCKLINGS.  "  OH.  MA.  THERE'S  PAPA  !'' 

JMis.  DUCK.  "No.  CHILDREN;  HE  LOOKS  SOMETHING  LIKE  MR.  DRAKE,  BUT  is  MR.  DUCK  WILLIAM,*  A  GREAT  LOVER  OF  INSECTS." 

*  Ormthorlu/nchus,  commonly  called  Dark-Bill. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANi    ILLUSTRATED  „ WEEKLY 


VOL.  rv.-NO.  201.  PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  September  4,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HARPER  A   BHUTHKRS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE  FIRST  LESSON. 

MOST  bright  little  fellows  like  this  one  mean,  when 
they  grow  up,  to  do  what  father  does.  Jack  is  tak- 
ing his  first  lesson  in  mending  the  fish  net.  His  fin- 
gers are  rather  clumsy,  but 
he  is  paying  close  atten- 
tion to  every  direction,  so 
it  will  not  be  long  before 
he  finds  out  the  secret  of 
the  net. 

In  a  few  years  he  will 
be  old  enough  to  make  one 
of  the  crew  that  man  the 


man 

fishing-boat.  Then  as  his 
muscles  become  tough  and 
strong  he  will  tug  manful- 
ly at  the  net  when  the  time 
conies  to  land  the  glittering 
prizes,  which  will  be  sold 
in  the  market  to  bring  com- 
forts to  the  fisherman's 
home. 

There  are  several  kinds 
of  nets,  and  Jack  will  no 
doubt  learn  the  uses  of  them 
all.  The  landing-net  is  a 
round  bag-net  mounted  on 
a  wire  hoop,  and  fastened 
to  the  end  of  a  staff.  It  is 
made  of  stout  twine,  hard- 
ened with  caoutchouc,  or 
India  rubber,  and  the  mesh- 
es are  small. 

The  casting-net  is  a  large 
affair,  thirteen  yards  round, 
and  is  weighted  with  lead 
to  permit  far  casts.  It  takes 
skill  to  throw  it  well.  It 
must  first  be  laid  on  the 
grass,  then  gathered  up  on 
the  left  arm  and  hand,  and 
with  a  side  swing  thrown 
gently  on  the  water,  while 
the  fisherman  keeps  hold  of 
the  end  of  the  line.  The 
net  must  be  thrown  very 
gently,  so  as  to  sweep  in  the 
fish  without  making  a  vio- 
lent splash  and  frightening 
them  away. 


A  hoop-net  is  in  the  shape  of  a  barrel,  and  has  channels 
at  each  end,  down  which  the  fish  swim  into  the  net.  It 
is  used  for  eels  and  small  fish. 

A  bunch  of  flowers  hung  ill  the  middle  of  a  hoop-net  is 
sure  to  attract  the  fish,  which  wish  to  see  the  pretty  thing 


690 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


with  the  gay  colors,  and  go  toward  it  without  fearing  any 
danger. 

Nets  are  very  ancient.  They  were  used  by  the  Egyp- 
tians, and  by  the  Phoenicians,  who  were  daring  mariners 
in  the  far  distant  past. 


DOLLIE  IN  THE  OCEAN. 

BY  A.  C. 

A  DEAR  little  girlie  went  down  one  bright  day 
To  the  shore  of  the  sea  to  have  a  good  play; 
She  sat  with  her  dollie  awhile  on  the  beach. 
Till  each  of  her  cheeks  was  as  fresh  as  a  peach  ; 
And  then,  having  taken  a  nice  little  run. 
She  tried  to  look  out  for  some  new  kind  of  fun. 

"Twas  bathing-time  now,  and  all  rosy  and  brown 

The  bathers  were  coming  from  out  of  the  town 

In  suits  of  bright  red  or  else  suits  of  dark  blue. 

Some  funny  and  old  and  some  pretty  and  new, 

To  play  in"  the  waves  and  to  play  in  the  sand. 

To  splash  in  the  sea  and  then  run  on  the  land. 

Thought  girlie:  "Now  why  can't  my  doll  have  some  fun? 

I'm  sure  she's  tired  sitting  here  in  the  sun; 

Her  blue  flannel  dress  is  a  good  suit  to  wear; 

It  won't  take  a  minute  to  fix  her,  the  dear. 

I'd  like  to  know  what  are  these  little  waves  for 

If  not  for  the  dollies  who  come  to  the  shore? 

So  in  you  may  go.  darling  dollie.  you  may. 

And  splash  like  the  others,  and  have  a  good  play." 

So  the  dear  little  girl  ran  down  through  the  sand, 

And,  holding  her  dollie  quite  fast  by  the  hand, 

She  save  her  a  splash  in  the  first  little  wave. 

"  Wliy.  dollie,  you  like  it;  you're  ever  so  brave!" 

Then  splash  number  two.  and  then  splash  number  three, 

Till  dollie  was  soaked  through  and  through— oh,  dear  me! 

"There,  that  is  enough,  dear;  the  doctors  all  say 

To  take  a  few  breakers  is  much  the  best  way. 

I  know  it  is  dreadful  to  come  out  so  soon. 

I'll  let  you  go  in  again  this  afternoon. 

Come  o'ut,  like  a  good  girl,  and  try  not  to  cry. 

Now  run  up  the  beach,  and  make  haste  to  get  dry." 

To  get  dry!     Oh,  that  is  the  thing  to  do  now; 

The  poor  little  mother,  she  doesn't  know  how. 

'Tis  easier  said  than  it  is  to  be  done. 

Poor  dollie!  she'll  have  to  hang  out  in  the  sun. 

Her  bine  bathing  garments  about  her  they  cling, 

Her  sawdust  is  dusty  no  longer,  poor  thing! 

The  eyes  that  were  dark  they  are  now  but  pale  blue, 

The  color  is  washed  from  her  little  cheeks,  too; 

And  as  for  her  hair,  it  is  ruined  to-day; 

"It  comes  out  in  cart-loads,'1  as  all  the  girls  say. 

Alas  for  the  dollie!  alas  for  her  fun! 
It  would  have  been  better  to  sit  in  the  sun; 
For  dollies  the  little  waves  never  were  made: 
Of  this  I  am  certain.     Their  beauties  will  fade 
If  ever  they  venture  to  enter  the  surf. 
'Tis  safer  for  dollies  to  stay  on  the  turf. 
So  briirht  little  mothers  of  bright  little  dolls 
Who  happen  to  be  where  the  sea  water  rolls, 
Take  warning,  take  warning,  and  never,  I  know. 
Will  you  foolishly  play  with  your  dear  babies  so. 


ABOARD  THE  "SEA  SPRAY." 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  JUN. 

"  OHE'S  just  a  beauty.  Ned.    Come  on  down  and  take  a 

lO  look  at  her;"  and  Charlie  Park  linked  arms  with  hi 
friend  Ned  Niles,  and  together  the  two  walked  across  the 
lawn  and  down   the  many  wooden  steps  to  the   river, 
where  at  a  neat  little  wharf  lay  a  handsome  steam-launch, 
with  polished  engine  and  newly  painted  hull. 

"Why,  where's  Joe,  the  engineer.  I  wonder  :"  exclaim- 
ed Charlie,  as  he  hurried  out  on  the  dock.  "I  suppose, 
though,  he's  gone  up  to  call  on  his  friend  the  coachman. 
Come,  hop  aboard,  Ned,  and  see  how  handsomely  Uncle 
Frank  has  had  her  fitted  up;"  and  the  enthusiastic  lad 


proceeded  to  display  the  yacht's  charms  with  the  ardor 
of  a  circus  showman. 

It  was  just  before  sunset  on  a  lovely  summer  evening, 
and  the  broad  river  lay  placid  as  a  mirror  in  its  winding 
aed  between  the  hills.  This  was  the  Sea  Spray's  first 
rip  since  Charlie's  uncle  had  bought  her  and  had  her  fit- 
ted up.  On  this  occasion  he  had  steamed  up  in  her  from 
the  city  to  take  tea  with  his  invalid  friend,  Mr.  Niles,  who 
resided  in  a  handsome  house  on  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
Charlie,  to  his  great  delight,  had  been  invited  to  accom- 
pany his  uncle,  not  only  for  the  enjoyment  the  trip  would 
afford  him,  but  also  for  the  opportunity  it  oft'ered  of  re- 
newing his  acquaintance  with  Ned.  whom  he  had  met  at 
school  the  previous  winter. 

Now  Ned  was  an  exceedingly  quiet  fellow  of  fourteen, 
fond  of  reading,  and  not  much  given  to  boyish  sports. 
Charlie,  on  the  other  hand,  was  of  a  much  more  lively 
disposition,  and  was  on  the  move  all  the  time.  After  a 
separation  of  a  month  or  so  the  two  found  plenty  to 
talk  about,  as  they  reclined  on  the  Sea  Spray's  soft 
cushions. 

"Isn't  it  queer,  Charlie,''  Ned  remarked,  a  light  puff  of 
vapor  suddenly  calling  his  attention  to  the  yacht,  "how 
such  light  stuff  as  steam  can  do  so  much  heavy  work  ? 
I've  read  a  good  deal  about  it,  but  somehow  I  don't  under- 
stand the  thing  yet." 

"I'll  show  you  in  half  a  minute,"  returned  the  impul- 
sive Charlie,  springing  to  his  feet  and  casting  off  the  stern 
line.  "Joe  explained  to  me  lots  of  points  about  the  en- 
gine on  the  way  up:  how  to  start  and  stop,  and— watch, 
now,  Ned;  I'll  turn  on  the  steam,  and  just  let  you  see  how 
the  Spray  can  scoot." 

"But  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  do  it,  Charlie,"  pro- 
tested the  other.  "Your  uncle  wouldn't  like  it  a  hit, 
and,  besides,  it's  dangerous  if  you  never  ran  an  engine 
before." 

"Pshaw!  didn't  I  keep  an  eye  on  Joe  all  the  time,  and 
as  for  Uncle  Frank,  I  don't  believe  he'd  care,  as  long  as 
I  only  make  a  circle  out  into  the  middle  of  the  river  and 
back  again.  So  here  goes;"  and  as  he  spoke,  Charlie 
pushed  the  launch  away  from  the  dock  with  the  boat- 
hook,  and  then  ran  back  to  start  the  engine,  Ned  watch- 
ing his  every  movement  in  a  dazed  state  of  helplessness. 

"Ah — h,  here  we  go!"  cried  Charlie,  gayly,  as  lie  open- 
ed wide  the  throttle-valve,  and  the  Sea  Spray  shot  quick- 
ly ahead.  "  My !  isn't  this  fine  ?  I  wish  I  dared  blow  the 
whistle,  but  I'm  afraid  Uncle  Frank  might  hear — not  that 
I  don't  think  he'll  be  mighty  pleased  to  know  that  I  can 
run  the  launch  all  by  myself;  but  I'd  rather  tell  him  about 
it  afterward,  when  I've  brought  her  snugly  back  to  the 
dock,  with  everything  left  ship-shape." 

"I  wish  we  were  back  there  now."  said  Ned.  holding 
on  with  a  tight  grip  to  the  tiller,  as  if  that  would  save 
him  in  the  event  of  any  accident. 

"Oh,  come,  Ned,  don't  be  girlish!  Haven't  I  told  you 
that  Joe  taught  me  lots  about  the  management  of  an  en- 
gine this  afternoon  '.  Just  see  how  beautifully  we're  run- 
ning; it  seems  a  pity  to  go  back  so  soon." 

And.  truth  to  tell,  the  Spray  was  going  along  at  very 
fair  speed.  But  it  was  of  short  duration,  for  even  as  Char- 
lie boasted  of  the  fact,  the  engine's  workings  became  per- 
ceptibly slower,  and  before  the  boat  could  be  headed  back 
to  the  wharf  the  machinery  came  to  a  full  stop. 

"  Hello !  what's  up  now,  I  wonder  !"  exclaimed  Charlie, 
and  he  went  peeping  in  and  out  among  the  cranks  and 
pistons  with  ail  important  air  of  knowledge. 

"Something  must  have  got  caught  in  the  screw,"  he 
suddenly  cried  out,  hardly  able  to  conceal  from  nervous 
Ned  the  rush  of  fears  which  now  began  to  overwhelm 
him.  Then,  crawling  out  upon  the  narrow  space  of  deck 
at  the  stern,  he  took  off  his  hat,  and  bent  his  head  clown 
to  look  behind  the  rudder. 

"I  can't  see  anything,"  he  reported,  as  he  drew  him- 


SEPTEMBER  4,  18S3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


691 


self  back,  very  red  in  the  face,  and  with  a  decidedly  puz- 
/led.  not  to  say  anxious,  expression  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Charlie,  what  shall  we  do  ?"  exclaimed  poor  Ned, 
faintly.  "See,  the  boat  won't  steer  a  bit  without  head- 
way, and  there's  not  even  a  puff  of  wind  blowing  in  any 
direction.  Couldn't  we  row  some  way  '" 

"No,  for  there  are  no  oars  on  board.  I  believe  they 
used  to  keep  one  under  the  deck  last  summer,  but  when 
the  yacht  was  overhauled  they  must  have  taken  it  out, 
and  forgot  to  put  it  back.  But  there  must  be  something 
wrong  with  that  engine,  because  I'm  positive  I've  done 
exactly  as  Joe  said." 

"Then  what  is  the  matter?  Oh,  Charlie,  it  isn't  prob- 
able that  you  could  have  learned  all  about  the  machinery 
in  one  lesson,  so  you  ought  not  to  have  attempted  to  run 
I  lie  N/"'".'/  by  yourself,  and  I  shouldn't  have  let  you  try, 
and —  Oh,  see  how  dark  it  is  growing!  What  if  some 
big  boat  should  run  into  us!  Can't  we  anchor  some- 
where ?" 

"No,  for  we've  no  matches  with  which  to  light  the 
lamps:  so  we're  as  safe  drifting  as  we  would  be  anchored, 
if  not  safer.  I'm  no  end  sorry,  Ned,  to  have  got  you 
into  such  a  fix,  and  I  see  now  I  had  no  business  to  med- 
dle with  such  a  complicated  thing  as  an  engine.  How- 
ever, this  '11  take  some  of  the  conceit  out  of  me,  I  guess. 
Now  don't  worry,  old  fellow,  for  I  don't  think  we're  as 
badly  off  as  we  might  be,  and  I'll  do  my  best  to  set  you 
safely  ashore,  after  which  I'll  be  ready  to  take  the  con- 
sequences." 

This  was  rather  a  hard  speech  to  make,  and  Ned  ad- 
mired greatly  the  manly  way  in  which  his  friend  acknow- 
ledged himself  to  be  in  the  wrong;  but  before  he  could 
reply  a  grating  sound  was  heard,  and  the  Sea  Sprat/  came 
to  a  stand-still. 

"We've  run  aground,"  cried  both  boys  in  a  breath, 
and  each  experienced  a  momentary  feeling  of  relief  at 
the  thought  that  they  were  no  longer  in  deep  water. 

But  as  the  darkness  closed  rapidly  in  about  them,  and 
a  breeze  sprang  up  to  set  them  shivering  in  their  over- 
coatless  condition,  they  decided  that  they  had  better  shout 
for  help,  which  they  proceeded  to  do  with  the  full  strength 
of  their  young  lungs. 

"  There  isn't  much  use  in  this,  though,  Charlie,"  panted 
Ned,  as  they  paused  to  listen  for  a  reply,  "as  most  of  the 
houses  near  the  river  belong  to  city  people,  who  haven't 
come  up  yet." 

"  Rut  the  tide  must  be  falling  now,  so  we'll  have  to  stay 
here  all  night  unless  we  get  help.  I  suppose  we're  safe 
enough,  in  one  sense,  but  think  of  the  state  of  mind  your 
father  and  Uncle  Frank  will  be  in  when  they  miss  us  and 
find  the  Spray  gone.  All  my  fault,  too.  I'm  bound  to 
do  something:  it's  simply  awful  to  sit  still  and  tliink." 
Then,  after  an  instant,  and  in  solemn  tones :  ' '  Ned,  do  you 
know  much  about  this  part  of  the  river  ?  I  mean,  whether 
we  are  on  a  flat  in  the  middle  of  it,  or  on  the  gradually 
shelving  bank  running  out  from  the  shore  ?" 

Ned  peered  intently  into  the  darkness  for  a  minute, 
held  his  head  in  his  hands  in  an  attitude  of  deep  thought, 
and  then  replied:  "  Charlie,  I  can't  tell  you  for  certain. 
You  know  I  haven't  taken  much  to  the  river,  but  I  think 
this  shoal  forms  part  of  the  beach.  But  what  difference 
does  it  make  ?" 

"  Just  this,"  answered  the  other,  quickly:  "  I  mean  to 
let  your  father  know  where  you  are  within  half  an  hour, 
if  I  possibly  can  ;"  and,  as  he  spoke,  Charlie  began  taking 
off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  while  Ned  stared  at  him  won- 
deringly. 

"  Why.  what — what  are  you  going  to  do,  Charlie  ?"  he 
stammered. 

"  Walk  ashore,  and  then  run  along  the  beach  to  your 
house,  which  can't  be  more  than  a  mile  below  us." 

"  Walk  ashore  from  here!"  exclaimed  Ned,  drawing  in 
a  long  breath.  "  And  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 


ilSit  quietly  in  the  launch  till  I  send  some  one  to  take 
you  off.  You  won't  have  to  wait  more  than  an  hour  at 
the  farthest." 

"But  what  if  this  is  only  a  flat  in  the  middle  of  the 
river  ?" 

"Well,  I'll  soon  find  that  out,  and  then  I'll  have  to 
come  back  here,  that's  all." 

"But  you  may  step  off  into  deep  water  before  you 
know  it." 

"  I  can  swim,"  returned  Charlie,  firmly,  as  he  took  off 
his  hat  and  placed  it  on  the  seat;  then  catching  up  the 
boat-hook  he  plunged  it  into  the  river,  and  after  with- 
drawing it,  measured  the  wret  portion  against  his  body, 
ascertaining  that  it  reached  nearly  above  his  waist. 

"Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  "how  much  the  Spray  must 
draw!  But  here  goes;"  and,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  to 
his  friend,  he  sprang  overboard,  uttering  a  shivering 
"  Ugh  !"  as  the  cold  water  struck  him.  "All  right,  Ned  1" 
he  called  out  as  he  waded  carefully  away  from  the  launch. 
"You're  not  afraid  to  stay  alone,  are  you?  The  tide's 
running  out  fast,  so  there's  no  danger  of  your  drifting  off, 
and  the  water's  too  shallow  for  any  bigger  boat  to  run 
into  you." 

Fainter  and  fainter  sounded  his  voice,  although  Ned 
could  hear  him  long  after  his  form  had  beeu  swallowed 
up  in  the  darkness.  How  terribly  lonely  it  was  out  there 
in  the  stranded  Sea,  Spray,  with  no  one  to  talk  to!  and — 
hark  !  was  not  that  a  sudden  splash  ? 

"  Charlie,  oh,  Charlie !  are  you  all  right  ?" 

"Prime,"  was  the  characteristic  answer  from  over  the 
waters. 

Then  the  dreadful  silence  fell  again,  and  Ned  sat  there 
listening  until  he  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

"Charlie,  oh,  Charlie!"  he  called  again. 

No  answer,  and  Ned's  heart  beat  with  quickened  throbs 
as  he  thought  of  the  deep  channel  and  the  treacherous 
tide. 

How  slowly  the  minutes  dragged !  Usually  quiet,  Ned 
was  seized  with  a  spirit  of  restlessness  that  kept  him  paci  ng 
ceaselessly  up  and  down  in  the  confined  quarters  of  the 
yacht,  casting  anxious  glances  now  and  then  at  the  sky, 
where  the  gorgeous  tints  of  sunset  had  been  succeeded  by 
heavy  banks  of  clouds  threatening  rain. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  hours  of  weary  waiting,  he 
had  almost  determined  to  follow  Charlie's  example,  and 
seek  to  make  his  way  to  the  shore.  Perhaps  the  chill  of 
the  water  might  serve  as  an  antidote  to  the  sensation  of 
nameless  dread  which  had  now  fastened  on  him. 

"Ned,  oh,  Ned!" 

Surely  that  was  Mr.  Park's  voice. 

Springing  up  as  if  from  an  electric  shock,  the  lad  threw 
his  whole  heart  into  the  answering-  shout,  "Here!  here!" 
And  within  five  minutes  the  Niles's  large  row-boat  ran  up 
alongside. 

"And  Charlie?"  were  Ned's  first  words  as  Mr.  Park 
seized  him  by  the  hand. 

"Safe  at  home  in  your  bed,  between  double  layers  of 
blankets.  He  did  a  brave  thing  simply  to  relieve  us  of 
our  anxiety,  and  both  your  father  and  I  are  well  assured 
that  he  is  thoroughly  repentant  as  well  as  punished  for 
his  thoughtlessness  in  starting  out  in  the  Spray." 

Meantime  Joe,  after  fussing  over  the  boiler,  to  which 
Charlie  had  not  given  a  thought,  with  the  help  of  Mi-. 
Niles's  coachman  and  gardener,  pushed  the  launch  off  the 
flat,  and  in  a  little  while  she  was  steaming  back  to  the 
dock. 

"  Why,  she  goes  all  right  now,"  exclaimed  Ned. 

"  In  course  she  does,"  answered  Joe.  "  Yer  see,  when 
I  left  her  to  git  my  supper  I  jist  '  banked'  the  fire,  which, 
as  Mr.  Charlie  had  gone  up  to  the  house,  I  couldn't  ex- 
plain to  him,  and,  not  knowiii'  this,  he  turns  on  the  full 
head  o'  steam  'thout  hauliii'  for'ard  the  fire,  and  phst !  lie 
lost  it  all  in  a  jiffy." 


692 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  rv. 


"•ALL    1UGHT,   NED!'   HE    CALLED    Ut'T 

Having  landed  Ned  and  the  two  men  at  their  wharf, 
Mr.  Park  kept  on  in  the  Spray  back  to  town,  leaving 
Charlie  to  spend  the  night  at  the  Niles's  while  his  clothes 
were  dried. 

He  returned  home  the  next  morning  by  train,  but  did 
not  offer  to  run  the  locomotive. 


'DICK    AND     D: 

BY    LUCY    C.    LILLIE, 

Author    of"  "  Mildred's    Bargain,"   "Nan,"   etc. 


CHAPTER  V. 
AN  UNEXPECTED  GUEST. 

IT  seemed  to  Norry  as  if  Dick  never  would  come  back. 
He  had  no  need  of  a  candle,  for  day  and  night  were 
alike  to  him.  But  even  Mrs.  James,  the  apple  woman,  had 
failed  in  her  usual  evening  visit,  and  two  big  tears  had 
formed  themselves  under  his  eyelids  and  were  slowly 
trickling  down  his  thin  little  cheeks  when  Dick's  footsteps 
sounded  on  the  stairs.  There  was  a  whiff  of  cold  air  as 
he  came  in.  but  Norry  sat  up  in  bed  and  could  have  scream- 
ed for  joy. 

Oh !  how  cheery  Dick's  voice  sounded ! 

"Just  you  wait  till  you  see  what  I  have,"  he  said  (it  was 
always  an  understood  thing  to  speak  of  Norry's  seeing). 
"  I  must  light  up  a  bit  of  fire,"  he  went  on;  and  produ- 
cing from  their  meagre  store  a  few  bits  of  wood,  he  soon 
had  a  blaze  ou  the  little  hearth.  "Why,  you  can't  think 
all  that  they  gave  me.  Oysters" — and  Dick  produced  from 
a  tin  box  some  fried  oysters,  and  prepared  to  heat  them. 
"Then  lobster  salad — oh  !  ain't  it  lovely! — and  broiled 
chicken!"  As  "each  article  was  called  out,  Norry  kept 
looking  more  intent,  and  when  the  climax  was  reached 
with  "Ice-cream,  all  packed  ill  tight  in  a  little  tin  box," 
he  could  not  sufficiently  express  his  emotions. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  he  said,  in  accents  of  delight,  "that 
we  might  give  Mrs.  James  some  ?" 

"That's  so,"  said  Dick;  "I'll  go  and  find  her." 

And  as  soon  as  he  had  filled  a  wonderful  plateful  for 
Norry  lie  prepared  a  second,  and  went  down  to  the  floor 
below,  where  Mrs.  James's  own  little  room  was  situated. 
A  knock  was  answered  by  rather  a  wail  of  ' '  Come  in" ; 
and  entering.  Dick  found  the  old  woman  weeping,  rocking 

*  Begun  in  No.  199,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


herself  back  and  forth,  and 
mopping  her  eyes  alternate- 
ly on  the  end  of  her  shawl 
and  her  apron. 

' '  Oh,  wirra !  wirra !  Come 
in,  my  darling,  till  you  hear, " 
she  began;  and  then  related 
her  adventure  of  the  after- 
noon. Nearly  all  her  nuts 
and  apples  had  been  stolen 
by  mischievous  boys,  and  not 
a  bit  of  redress  could  she  get. 
"And  the  rint  due  to-mor- 
row! Ah,  wirra!  wirra!" 

"I  wish  I'd  been  around," 
Dick  exclaimed.  "I  think 
I'd  like  to  have  my  fist 
against  their  heads." 

This  pugnacious  sentiment 
seemed  to  comfort  the  poor 
woman,  and  the  sight  of  the 
tempting  plateful  was  even 
more  substantial  consolation, 
so  that  Dick  left  her  quite 

ready  to  feel  that  something  lucky  might  "turn  up"  before 
the  next  night.  "Well,  she's  worse  off  even  than  we  are," 
the  lad  thought,  as  he  mounted  the  stairs;  "  but  I  suppose 
somebody  always  is  worse  off  than  somebody  else,"  and  a 
dim  feeling  came  across  his  mind  that  all — all,  even  the 
very  "worst  off,"  had  One  to  go  to,  to  ask,  to  trust  in. 

The  two  boys  had  very  little  chance  of  any  religion  just 
then,  I  fear,  for  young  people  must  have  guidance,  and 
since  the  mother's  death  Dick's  one  thought  had  been  to 
hide  from  "institution  people,"  and  earn  enough  to  keep 
himself  and  Norry  even  a  little  warm  and  tolerably  fed. 
No  one  must  suppose  Dick  a  model  boy,  for  he  was  often 
rough,  fighting  his  way  among  other  boys,  and  rude  in  his 
ways  and  speech;  but  the  lessons  of  good,  the  standard  for 
right  and  wrong,  which  the  mother  had  implanted  in  her 
children,  could  not  but  bear  good  fruit. 

Dick  found  Norry  lying  back  with  a  most  superior  ex- 
pression of  content  after  finishing  his  plateful,  and  when 
Dick  said,  "  There  you  are,  sir — one  ice-cream  !''  he  laugh- 
ed almost  hysterically.  Dick  told  him  all  about  the  young 
people  at  Dr.  Field's,  and  saved  for  a  final  bonne  bouch"  the 
news  of  Master  Dick's  intended  visit,  and  the  fact  that  he 
had  bestowed  upon  him  twenty-five  cents.  Altogether 
both  the  boys  as  they  fell  asleep  declared  this  had  been  a 
wonderful  day. 

Early  the  next  morn  ing  Dick  began  some  of  his  prepara- 
tions for  the  important  visitor.  He  had  rather  strange 
ideas,  I  am  afraid,  on  the  subject  of  housekeeping,  and 
it  is  hard  to  make  an  attic  with  a  broken  window  and  no 
carpet,  and  only  a  straw  mattress  for  a  bed,  and  an  old 
chair  and  still  older  table  as  furniture,  look  very  like  a 
drawing-room  on  reception-day.  But  Dick,  as  he  said, 
"cleaned  up,"  and  their  one  ornament,  a  large  picture 
from  an  illustrated  paper,  was  repinned  011  a  more  con- 
spicuous part  of  the  wall. 

After  some  debate  between  the  boys  it  was  decided  to 
spend  about  ten  cents  upon  a  plant,  their  country  bring- 
ing tip  suggesting  flowers  as  the  best  things  to  brighten 
any  dull  place.  So  a  geranium  was  found  for  the  money, 
and  when  Dick  had  placed  it  on  the  table,  he  felt  that  the 
appearance  of  the  room  really  did  them  credit. 

They  decided  to  save  their  fire  until  about  an  hour  in 
advance  of  Master  Dick's  arrival,  and  the  better  to  strength- 
en the  blaze,  Dick  went  to  a  neighboring  street  where  build- 
ing was  going  on,  and  obtained  a  pile  of  shavings. 

The  last  performance  was  dressing  Norry,  who  felt  very 
stately,  sitting  up  in  bed  ready  to  receive  the  guests. 

Then  the  fire  was  allowed  to  blaze  up,  which  it  did,  just 
as  t  liough  it  knew  how  much  was  required  of  it,  and  when 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


693 


a  neighboring  clock  struck  three  the  two  boys  found  them- 
selves full  of  suppressed  excitement. 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  WELCOME  VISIT. 

A  LOW  rat-tat-tat  sounded  on  the  attic  door. 

"There!"  cried  Dick,  jumping  up  and  opening  the 
door.  Behold!  there  was  young  Bearing,  his  hands  full 
of  parcels,  and  a  beaming  expression  on  his  good-humored 
face. 

Whatever  the  young  fellow  may  have  thought  of  his 
host's  apartment,  he  did  not  show  any  surprise.  He  put 
down  his  parcels  and  went  straight  up  to  Norry. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  do  ?"  he  said,  and  took  the  blind 
boy's  thin  hand  kindly  in  his  own  warm,  boyish  grasp. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  came,  sir,"  said  Dick  Devine.  "  It 
isn't  much  of  a  place  to  bring  you  to,  but — 

"  Oh,  cut  that!"  said  Dearing,  in  his  off-hand  way:  "  I 
like  nothing  better.  How  clean  you've  got  it!  I  wish 
you  could  see  my  work-room  out  at  The  Cedars — that's 
grandfather's  country  place,  you  know.  But  here,  let's 
open  the  parcels." 

As  the  boys  began,  making  strings  and  papers  fly  in 
their  eagerness,  Dearing  whispered  to  Dick,  "  1  got  him 
some  noisy  things,  'cause  he  can't  see,  you  know." 


And  then  was  disclosed  a  very  good  accordion.  Dick 
exclaimed,  with  delight : 

"Oh,  how  glad  I  am!  He  had  one  once,  and  could 
play  a  tune  on  it."  And  as  soon  as  it  was  placed  in  Nor- 
ry's  hands,  and  he  had  expressed  his  thanks,  he  began 
fumbling  with  the  keys,  at  last  bringing  forth  "Home, 
sweet  Home." 

"It  was  a  man  who  lived  near  us  in  the  country  who 
taught  him,"  Dick  explained;  "and  mother  always  wish- 
ed he  could  learn  music,  he  loves  it  so." 

"Why,  yes,  and  then  lie  might  have  a  hand-organ," 
said  Dearing.  But  even  Dick's  imagination  refused  to  take 
in  a  picture  of  little  Norry  with  a  hand-organ  strapped  to 
liis  back,  and  he  added,  "But  I  don't  suppose  they  teach 
hand  organs;  you  just  sort  of  turn  'em." 

The  other  parcels  contained  one  or  two  games,  a  lot  of 
marbles,  a  top,  and  a  big  ball.  When  Dick  Dearing's 
imagination  had  gone  thus  far  in  his  purchases  it  had 
failed  him ;  but  he  announced  at  once  his  desire  to  pur- 
chase for  Norry  "  something  alive." 

"  I  thought  of  a  dog,"  he  said — "a  real  smart  little  dog, 
and  you  could  train  him  to  lead  Norry  around." 

After  this  it  was  almost  impossible  to  express  surprise, 
gratitude,  or  any  emotion,  for  apparently  wonders  would 
never  cease  while  Dick  Dearing  was  around. 

The  two  older  boys  decided  to  go  out  to  "a  man  Dear- 


BEHOLD!    THEliK    WAS    YOUNG    BEARING." 


69J- 


HAEPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ing  knew"  for  the  purchase  of  the  dog,  leaving  Norry 
happy  with  his  accordion.  If  Master  Dick  had  wanted 
any  reward  for  the  expenditure  of  his  pocket-money  he 
had  it  when  he  returned  with  a  little  dog  warranted  to  be 
quick  and  good-tempered,  and  "just  the  thing  for  a  blind 
boy." 

With  the  keen  instincts  of  the  blind,  Norry  seemed  at 
once  to  understand  the  little  animal  and  to  win  it  to  him. 
When  the  question  of  naming  it  came  up  he  declared 
it  ought  to  be  called  something  that  would  mean  how 
glad  he  was  to  get  it.  So  Dearing  said  that  his  sister 
Barbara  was  "awfully  quick"  about  such  things,  and  he 
would  get  her  to  choose  a  name. 

An  hour  was  delightfully  whiled  away  by  the  boys. 
Bearing  told  them  all  about  his  grandfather's  country 
place  at  Mai-plains,  in  New  Jersey— how  glad  he  always 
was  to  go  there.  He  had  a  pony  and  a  dog  of  his  own, 
and  Barbara  had  a  goat  carriage. 

Norry  thought  he  could  listen  forever.  "Where  is 
Mai-plains?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  about  twenty  miles  from  New  York,  011  the  Field 
and  Dearing  Railroad.  Sometimes  we  drive  there." 

Then  Dick  Devine  told  how  they  had  been  brought  up 
in  the  country  until  last  year,  how  he  had  always  gone 
to  school,  and  how  he  wished  he  could  again.  Upon  this 
Master  Dick  made  a  wry  face. 

"It's  a  jolly  good  thing  you  don't  have  to,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  wish  /  didn't  have  to  grind  away  at  it.  I 
think  a  lot  of  the  things  they  do  at  our  school  is  just  on 
purpose  to  torment  boys  and  make  'em  hurry  and  grow  up ; 
and  grandfather's  always  telling  me  I  must  get  prizes." 

All  of  this  was  very  entertaining,  for  I  am  inclined  to 
think  Master  Dick  liked  to  talk  quite  as  well  as  the  other 
two  to  listen;  but  five  o'clock  struck,  and  the  visit  had 
to  come  to  an  end. 

As  Devine  was  escorting  his  new  friend  down  the  stairs 
he  told  him  by  chance  about  the  loss  poor  Mrs.  James  had 
endured.  It  was  only  a  dollar,  but  to  the  old  apple  wo- 
man it  seemed  a  small  fortune.  Then  nothing  would  suit 
Master  Dick's  generous  mood  but  to  go  to  the  stall  and 
surprise  Mrs.  James  with  the  money.  Nothing,  I  am  sure, 
could  have  surprised  her  more.  She  poured  forth  so  many 
thanks  and  blessings  that  Dick  Dearing  had  to  fairly  run 
away,  but  not  before  he  had  promised  his  new  friend  to 
come  again  soon. 

Perhaps  on  his  way  home  Dick  had  just  a  little  pang 
as  he  remembered  the  last  twenty-five  cents  of  his  savings 
was  gone.  Still,  there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  fun  as  well 
as  comfort  in  the  day.  But.  even  when  satisfied  by  recall- 
ing the  delight  of  those  he  had  helped  he  little  knew  what 
a  store  he  had  laid  up  for  the  future,  just  how  the  bread 
he  had  this  day  cast  upon  the  waters  was  to  come  back  to 
him — a  thing  no  one  of  us  in  any  good  or  kindly  action 
can  tell,  for  even  though  there  be  no  reward  that  is  visi- 
ble, it  is  written  somewhere,  and,  like  all  good  seed.  nm.;t 
bear  an  eternal  fruit.  If  Dick's  tree  blossomed  forth  in  a 
way  that  he  could  see  and  feel,  it  would  not  make  less 
necessary  those  kindly  deeds  whose  reward  comes  not  in 
things  earthly. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


WHO  DR.  JOHN  HUNTER  WAS. 

BY  WILLIAM  H.  RIDEING. 

HIS  knowledge  of  dumb  animals  and  his  amusing-  sto- 
ries about  his  pets  have  made  Frank  Bucklaiid's  name 
familiar  to  most  readers,  and  especially  to  those  boys  who 
are  interested  in  natural  history.  He  has  done  more 
than  any  one  else  to  make  the  animal  world  known  to 
man.  and  his  writings  about  the  creatures  he  studied  seem 
like  stories  of  private  life. 

A  few  weeks  before  his  death  I  sat  with  him  in  the 


study  of  his  house  in  Albany  Street.  London,  chatting 
with  him  about  his  favorite  pursuit.  Upon  his  shoulder 
sat  Margate  Jack,  a  very  small  monkey.  A  still  smaller 
monkey  had  crawled  into  my  lap,  where  it  took  advantage 
of  the  situation  by  gnawing  apart  my  silk  watch  guard. 

The  chair  which  Mr.  Buckland  filled  was  singularly 
massive,  and  he  called  my  attention  to  a  medallion  in- 
serted in  the  back,  which  announced  that  this  heavy  and 
ancient-looking  piece  of  furniture  had  been  made  out  of 
the  bedstead  of  John  Hunter.  I  soon  learned  that  John 
Hunter  was  a  man  for  whom  Mr.  Buckland  had  the  great- 
est reverence. 

"  A  canvasser  called  on  me  in  behalf  of  some  hospital 
the  other  day,"  he  said,  brusquely,  "and  I  asked  him  if 
he  knew  who  John  Hunter  was.  It  was  enough  for  me 
when  he  said,  '  No.'  He  didn't  get  any  money  out  of  inc. 
None  of  my  money  goes  to  a  hospital  whose  canvassers 
do  not  know  John  Hunter." 

It  was  very  evident  that  not  to  know  John  Hunter  was 
a  very  great  offense  in  Mr.  Bucklaiid's  eyes,  and  I  did  not 
feel  quite  at  ease,  as  I  too  shared  the  canvasser's  igno- 
rance. We  both  ought  to  have  known,  for  he  was  one  of 
the  most  useful  men  the  world  has  ever  had.  He  was 
one  of  the  greatest  of  surgeons,  and  his  researches  and 
experiments  have  been  of  the  greatest  value  to  his  profes- 
sion. At  the  time  of  his  death  Dr.  Hunter  had  anatomized 
over  five  hundred  different  species  of  animals,  some  of 
them  repeatedly,  and  had  made  numerous  dissections  of 
plants.  His  manuscripts  are  stated  by  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers to  have  been  "literally  a  cart-load."  It  is  worth 
our  while  to  find  out  something  about  him,  because  he  was 
not  only  a  learned  man,  but  one  whose  methods  of  work 
were  full  of  interest  and  suggestiveness. 

Dr.  John  Hunter  was  born  at  Long  Calderwood.  Lan- 
arkshire,  Scotland,  in  1728,  and  he  died  in  London  in  1793. 
In  his  boyhood  he  undertook  to  learn  cabinet-making,  but 
at  the  age  of  seventeen  he  gave  up  this  trade  in  order  to 
study  surgery  with  his  elder  brother  William.  While  he 
was  yet  a  young  man  his  name  became  widely  known  as 
that  of  a  most  successful  surgeon.  He  constantly  wrote 
books  explaining  the  results  of  his  researches,  and  began 
to  be  referred  to  as  the  best  authority  on  subjects  connect- 
ed with  anatomy. 

Mr.  Buckland  used  to  say  that  personal  experiment  was 
the  best  way  to  study  the  natural  sciences — that  a  bov 
with  a  trowel  and  a  pair  of  scissors  in  the  field,  a  hammer 
among  the  rocks,  and  the  smallest  chemical  laboratory  in 
the  house,  could  learn  more  of  botany,  geology,  and  chem- 
istry in  a  week  than  by  a  month's  reading,  unless  the 
reading  was  followed  by  experiments.  The  secret  of  John 
Hunter's  success  was  that  he  was  always  experimenting  in 
every  direction,  always  trying  to  learn  more  about  things 
than  books  could  tell  him. 

For  the  purpose  of  his  experiments  he  made  his  house 
and  grounds  a  museum  and  menagerie,  and  the  small  boys 
of  his  time  anxiously  peeped  through  the  chinks  at  some 
of  the  wonders  the  walls  inclosed.  He  had  strange  crea- 
tures from  all  parts  of  the  globe— the  queerest  of  birds, 
the  oddest  of  beasts,  the  rarest  of  fish,  and  sometimes  a 
few  giants  and  dwarfs.  All  round  the  house  was  a  cov- 
ered cloister,  dug  about  six  feet  into  the  earth,  and  in  this 
he  kept  a  stork  of  bats,  dormice,  snakes,  and  snails.  lie 
was  very  fond  of  experimenting  with  hedgehogs,  and  in 
loiters  to  his  friend  Dr.  Jenner,  the  great  discoverer  of 
vaccination,  he  wrote  at  various  times  as  follows : 

"I  received  yours,  with  hedgehog,  but  want  more.  I 
want  you  to  get  a  hedgehog  in  the  middle  of  winter,  and 
weigh  him.  Put  him  into  your  garden,  and  let  him  have 
some  leaves,  hay,  or  straw  to  cover  himself,  which  he  will 
do;  then  weigh  him  in  the  spring,  and  see  what  he  has 
Secondly.  I  want  you  to  kill  one  in  the  beginning 
of  winter,  to  see  how  fat  he  is.  and  another  in  the  sprmu\ 
to  see  what  he  has  lost  of  his  fat If  vou  can  send  me 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


695 


a  colony  of  hedgehogs  I  shall  be  glad,  as  I  have  expended 
all  I  had  but  two;  one  an  eagle  ate,  and  a  ferret  caught 
the  other ....  Can  you  send  me  more  hedgehogs  this 
spring?  All  those  you  sent  me  died,  so  that  I  am  hedge- 
hogless." 

Nothing  was  too  small  or  too  large  for  him.  At  an- 
other time  he  had  a  whale  brought  up  to  his  house,  and 
dissected  it  in  his  laboratory. 

There  was  a  conservatory  which  was  wholly  given  up 
to  bees,  of  which  he  was  very  fond,  and  a  pond  in  which 
he  kep.t  a  stock  of  fish,  frogs,  and  leeches,  and  in  which 
also  he  tried  to  make  pearls  by  putting  strange  substances 
into  oysters  for  them  to  form  on.  Elsewhere  in  the 
grounds  there  were  dens,  sties,  stables,  and  bear-pits. 

Though  the  little  boys  of  the  neighborhood  peeped  in, 
they  scarcely  had  courage  enough  to  trespass.  The  front 
of  the  house  was  awful  to  look  at.  Four  stone  lions 
guarded  the  double  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  vestibule, 
two  standing  at  the  top  and  two  lying  down  at  the  bot- 
tom. Over  the  front  door  was  the  tremendously  wide 
mouth  of  a  crocodile,  and  on  each  side  of  the  area  was  an 
immense  pyramid  of  curious  shells.  The  cries  of  the  queer 
birds  and  animals  sounded  ghostly  in  the  twilight;  sav- 
age dogs,  half  jackal,  roamed  about  tbe  grounds,  and  oc- 
casionally a  young  leopard  could  be  seen  winding  witli 
stealthy  grace  in  and  out  of  the  shrubbery.  The  simple 
villagers  of  Kensington  looked  on  the  doctor  with  some 
suspicion,  and  called  him  "the  cunning  man.'' 

The  disorder  made  by  his  pets  was  not  liked  by  Mrs. 
Hunter,  and  she  took  possession  herself  of  the  upper  floors 
of  the  house,  which  in  contrast  with  the  lower  ones  were 
daintily  furnished  and  decorated. 

"I'll  be  bound  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Bucklaiid,  laughingly, 
"she  used  occasionally  to  lead  him  a  life,  and  scold  him 
well  if  he  did  not  confine  his  subjects  to  his  own  part  of 
the  house." 

No  doubt  she  did,  and  no  wonder. 

The  house  is  at  Earls  Court,  between  London  and  Ken- 
sington, and  it  is  still  standing,  though  Dr.  John  has  been 
dead  ninety  years. 

Dr.  John  was  a  very  busy  man.  not  wholly  occupied  with 
experiments.  He  was  Surgeon  Extraordinary  to  the  King, 
and  Deputy  Surgeon-General  to  the  British  army.  Much 
of  his  time  was  spent  with  private  patients,  some  in  tin- 
medical  colleges  with  his  students,  and  some  in  the  great 
hospitals,  where  he  did  much  to  cure  the  pains  of  the  suf- 
fering poor.  His  work  at  home  was  a  relaxation  to  him, 
and  we  have  a  picture  of  him  driving  to  Earls  Court  in  a 
carriage  drawn  by  tame  buffaloes. 

He  made  playfellows  of  some  of  his  pets,  which  were 
not  always  as  good-natured  as  he  was.  He  had  a  young 
bull  given  to  him  by  the  Queen,  with  which  he  used  to 
wrestle  and  play,  amusing  himself  with  its  exertions  iu 
its  own  defense.  In  one  of  those  contests  the  bull  got 
him  down,  and  was  angrily  attacking  him,  when  one  of 
the  servants  came  by  and  frightened  it  away. 

Another  of  his  adventures  was  still  more  exciting. 
While  he  was  working  in  the  house  he  and  the  other 
members  of  the  family  were  alarmed  by  loud  and  savage 
noises  in  the  garden.  Two  untamed  leopards  which  he 
kept  chained  in  an  out-house  had  broken  from  their  con- 
finement, and  got  into  the  yard  with  the  dogs,  and  a  fierce 
encounter  was  going  on.  Instantly,  though  he  was  quite 
unarmed,  the  doctor  rushed  out.  He  seized  one  of  the 
leopards,  which  was  engaged  with  the  dogs,  by  the  collar, 
and  while  holding  this  one.  grasped  the  other,  which  was 
escaping  over  the  garden  wall,  by  the  tail,  and  then  tri- 
umphantly led  both  of  them  back  to  their  quarters. 

I  have  only  pointed  out  a  few  characteristics  of  this 
great  man  ;  but  a  great  surgeon  has  said  of  him  that,  with 
the  exception  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  no  one  in  recent  times 
has  done  so  much  for  the  science  of  medicine,  and  there- 
fore to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  mankind. 


LAWN  POOL. 

BY    SHERWOOD    RYSE. 

SINCE  its  younger  rival,  lawn  tennis,  entered  the  field, 
croquet  has  "  had  its  nose  put  out  of  joint,"  and  it  is 
now  so  rarely  seen  that  it  is  quite  a  curiosity.  But  there 
still  remain  people  who  cherish  a  spark  of  tender  feeling 
for  poor  croquet,  and  one  of  these  has  lately  invented  a 
game  that  is  at  once  very  like  it  and  very  unlike. 

The  new  game  is  called  Imperial  Croquet,  or  Lawn 
Pool.  Doubtless  it  will  soon  be  known  only  by  its  second 
title.  It  is  more  scientific  than  croquet  as  ordinarily 
played,  and  it  is  more  easily  mastered  than  lawn  tennis. 
At  the  same  time  it  does  not  call  for  so  much  active  exer- 
tion as  the  latter  game. 

Briefly  the  game  is  this:  Nine  balls  are  placed  on  nine 
stakes  set  in  the  ground  in  much  the  same  relative  posi- 
tions as  croquet  wickets,  and  the  object  of  the  players  is 
to  hit  the  stakes  in  regular  order,  so  as  to  knock  the  balls 
off  them.  The  balls  on  the  stakes  are  numbered,  and 
every  ball  that  is  dislodged  from  its  stake  counts  to  the 
score  of  the  player  who  dislodged  it  as  many  points  as  the 
number  on  the  ball. 

And  first,  to  describe  the  stakes  and  balls :  As  the  stakes 
— or  pedestals,  as  they  are  called — are  very  prettily  painted, 
they  would  soon  be  disfigured  by  being  hammered  into 
the  ground.  Accordingly,  wooden  sockets,  the  shape  of  a 
cornucopia  such  as  candies  are  put  up  in,  but  narrower 
in  proportion  to  length,  are  driven  into  the  ground,  and 
the  stakes  (it  into  them.  Thus,  when  the  sockets  are  once 
driven,  the  whole  apparatus  may  be  removed  or  replaced 
in  a  few  minutes.  Moreover,  the  lawn-mower  may  be  run 
over  the  sockets  without  injury  either  to  itself  or  to  them. 

The  balls  arc  of  two  sorts,  but  both  sorts  are  exactly  like 
croquet  balls.  First,  there  are  nine  balls  painted  in  solid 
colors,  and  numbered,  there  being  two  each  marked  2,  4, 
6,  8,  and  one  marked  10.  These  nine  balls  are  placed  on 
the  pedestals.  Then  there  are  four  players'  balls  with  a 
red  stripe  for  the  one  side  and  four  with  a  blue  stripe  for 
the  other.  Besides  these  there  are  mallets  exactly  like 
those  used  in  croquet,  and  a  counting-string  composed  of 
a  row  of  little  wooden  balls  or  buttons  running  on  a 
string,  such  as  is  used  to  mark  the  game  in  billiards.  All 
these  things — sockets,  stakes,  mallets,  balls,  and  counters — 
are  sold  in  a  box  at  very  moderate  prices;  in  fact,  one 
great  advantage  that  lawn  pool  enjoys  is  that  it  is  so  in- 
expensive an  amusement. 

The  plan  of  setting  out  the  stakes  is  shown  in  the  dia- 
gram. '  The  sides  having  been  chosen,  the  first  player — 
with  a  blue-striped  ball — aims  at  the  first  stake  and  dis- 
lodges the  ball;  he  then  plays  for  the  next  stake,  and  per- 
haps he  misses  it.  His  turn  is  over,  and  one  of  his  oppo- 
nents plays  with  a  red-striped  ball.  Now,  supposing  that 
this  player  makes  his  first  stake  (counting  two  to  his  side), 
and  finds  that  his  opponent's  ball  is  easier  to  hit,  he  may 
play  at  either  a  ball  or  a  stake.  If  he  hits  a  stake  in  its 
proper  order  he  adds  to  his  score  the  number  of  that  stake, 
but  if  he  hits  a  ball  he  may  do  one  of  several  things.  If 
the  ball  is  an  enemy's  ball,  first  he  adds  its  number  to  his 
score,  then  he  may  use  the  ball  in  exactly  the  same  man- 
ner as  in  croquet — he  may  "tight  croquet"  it  or  "loose 
croquet"  it.  The  act  of  hitting  a  ball,  whether  it  be  that 
of  friend  or  foe,  entitles  a  player  to  two  strokes,  which  are 
played  in  exactly  the  same  manner  as  in  croquet;  but  if 
the  ball  struck  is  a  friend,  the  two  strokes  are  all  the  player 
gets.  He  is  not  allowed  to  add  the  friendly  ball's  number 
to  his  score. 

It  will  be  seen  that  lawn  pool  is  in  many  respects  very 
much  like  croquet,  the  principal  points  of  difference  being 
that  stakes  are  the  objects  of  the  aim  instead  of  hoops,  and 
that  the  winning  side  is  that  which  has  scored  the  largest 
number  in  the  game,  and  not  the  side  that  has  gone  all  the 
way  around  the  course  soonest. 


696 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


&^;*~^835^** 


A    GAME    OF    LAWN    TOOL. 


When  a  ball  has  gone  all  the  way  around,  striking-  all 
the  stakes  in  proper  order  except  the  finishing  stake,  it 
becomes  a  "king  ball,"  and  enjoys  all  the  privileges  that 
a  "rover"  has  in  croquet.  At  the  same  time,  there  are 
certain  penalties  attaching  to  this  otherwise  independent 
ball.  A  king  ball  plays  in  his  regular  turn ;  he  may  help 
his  friends  or  harass  his  enemies,  but  he  must  not  strike  a 
stake,  otherwise  he  loses  the  number  of  the  ball  on  that 
stake.  To  make  up  for  this,  however,  he  is  allowed  to 
add  to  his  score  the  number  of  any  ball  that  he  may  hit, 
whether  friend  or  foe.  Thus  the  king  ball  can  make  him- 
self very  useful  to  his  friends  and  very  annoying  to  his 
opponents.  When  all  the  balls  on  both  sides  are  king 
balls,  or  have  hit  the  final  stake,  the  side  having  the  largest 
score  is  declared  the  winner. 

The  proper  number  of  players  is  four  oil  each  side,  but 
as  few  as  one  on  each  side  may  play  :  in  this  case  each 
player  should  vise  two  balls.  A  game  in  which  there 
should  be  only  one  ball  on  each  side  would  probably  be 
voted  "slow, "and  certainly  there  would  be  little  scope 
for  good  tactics.  If  three  persons  wish  to  play,  the  best 
and  the  worst  player  (with  one  ball  each)  should  play  as 
partners  against  the  other  player  with  two  balls. 

When  two  good  players  are  engaged,  the  game  will  be 
found  more  interesting  if  they  play  a  double  round;  that 
is,  go  over  the  course  twice  instead  of  once.  Thus  the 
lucky  accident  of  a  very  good  start  does  not  count  for  so 
much  as  in  a  short  game,  since  the  other  player  has  more 
time  to  make  up  the  distance  between  them.  A  very  good 


player— especially  when  he  plays  last,  so  that  he  has  sev- 
eral balls  to  use  to  help  himself  along — will  sometimes 
make  his  ball  a  king  ball  in  one  turn,  if  they  are  playing 
a  single  round. 

Although  among  g'ood  players  skillful  tactics  generally 
win  the  game,  yet  the  best  of  generals  can  not  win  unless 
his  men  are  fairly  well  equipped,  and  in  lawn  pool  a  prac- 
ticed shot  will  often  be  able  by  his  superior  shooting  skill 
to  offset  the  advantage  which  his  opponent  may  have  in 
a  "longhead."  First,  therefore,  acquire  a  straight  aim 
at  reasonably  long  distances;  but  do  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  careless  in  what  appear  to  be  easy  shots,  and  do  not 
attempt  a  long  shot  when  an  easier  one  presents  itself. 

In  the  old  days  of  croquet  there  was  a  general  disposi- 
tion among  players,  both  old  and  young,  to  cheat.  Why 
it  should  have  been  considered  almost  excusable  to  cheat 
at  croquet,  when  it  would  have  been  thought  disgraceful 
to  take  an  unfair  advantage  in  other  games,  it  is  difficult 
to  say.  Perhaps  people  thought  that  as  it  was  open  cheat- 
ing there  was  110  harm ;  and  if  one  cheats  so  that  others 
can  see  it,  certainly  it  is  not  so  much  wrong  as  foolish. 

It  is  as  though  each  player  should  make  his  own  rules. 
Rules  are  necessary  to  every  game;  in  fact,  the  rules  are 
the  game,  and  unless  you  play  according  to  them  you 
play  neither  lawn  pool  nor  croquet,  nor  any  other  game. 
When  once  the  few  simple  rules  of  lawn  pool  are  mastered, 
it  will  be  found  a  fascinating  amusement  for  summer  days 
when  it  is  too  warm  for  games  requiring  more  violent 
exercise. 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


697 


a 

H 


O 

H 

b 


a 
o 


69S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  PICNIC  AT  PINE  CENTRE. 

BY  MRS.  M.  E.  SANGSTER. 

HALF  a  dozen  houses  had  subsided  into  quiet  after  an 
unusual  amount  of  stir  and  flurry,  one  lovely  sum- 
mer morning,  among  the  green  hills  of  Vermont. 

Baskets,  pails,  bundles,  and  children  were  all  mingled 
in  confusion  at  Deacon  Bates's  gate,  from  which  the  load 
was  to  start. 

"  Now,  Polly  Amie,"  said  Mrs.  Bates  to  her  red-cheeked 
daughter,  "be  sure  you  look  out  for  Miss  Rosalie.  She's 
not  so  strong  as  the  rest  of  you.  Don't  neglect  her,  dear." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  said  Polly  Anne,  slipping  from  the 
detaining  hand,  and  climbing  to  her  place. 

"  Miss  Rosalie!"  she  whispered,  in  an  aside  to  Araminta 
Guest,  a  shade  of  contempt  in  her  tone.  ' '  How  can  I 
take  care  of  her  ?  She's  gold." 

Araminta  returned  a  glance  of  sympathy.  Little  Rosa- 
lie, already  lifted  up  over  the  wheel  by  brother  Jed,  saw 
and  heard  nothing. 

"All  aboard!"  cried  Uncle  John,  with  a  merry  twinkle 
in  his  eyes.  And  with  a  snap  of  the  whip,  the  horses 
were  off  at  a  rollicking  pace  for  the  "  Centre." 

A  month  ago  if  anybody  had  told  Rosalie's  mother  that 
she  could  be  without  her  darling  for  a  whole  summer,  that 
summer  to  be  spent  by  the  child  with  comparative  stran- 
gers, she  would  have  declared  the  thing  impossible. 

But  Dr.  Haswell,  worn  out  by  overwork,  broke  down 
suddenly,  and  his  physicians  said  nothing  would  save  life 
and  reason  but  a  season  of  complete  rest  at  the  German 
baths.  They  discouraged  the  mother's  desire  that  Rosalie 
should  go  too.  Mrs.  Haswell  would  have  enough  to  do, 
they  fancied,  in  taking  care  of  the  doctor. 

"Besides,  madam,"  said  blutf  Professor  Harkinson, 
''Rosie  needs  a  summer  up-country,  witli  children  of  her 
own  age  to  play  with.  Send  her  to  some  plain  farm- 
house, and  let  her  nurse  go  along,  and  you'll  find  her 
worthy  of  her  name  when  you  come  back." 

Naturally,  in  this  emergency,  the  mother's  thoughts 
turned  to  Deacon  Bates  and  his  wife,  whom  she  had  known 
from  childhood,  and  it  was  all  arranged  so  promptly  that 
within  a  week  Rosalie  was  established  there  with  the 
faithful  Bettine,  and  her  parents  were  out  on  the  Atlan- 
tic. Things  followed  each  other  so  quickly  that  mother 
and  child  had  scarcely  time  to  realize  their  parting  till 
the  sea  was  between  them. 

Uncle  John,  on  the  front  seat,  had  eyes  perhaps  in  the 
back  of  his  head,  as  the  picnickers  went  bowling  over  the 
road.  At  any  rate  he  noticed  that  the  little  city  girl  was 
rather  loin-some,  so  he  asked  her  to  come  and  sit  by  him- 
self, while  Ames  Darbee  changed  places  with  her. 

It  was  splendid  to  ride  beside  the  kind  man,  who  glanced 
keenly  from  under  his  shaggy  gray  eyebrows,  and  saw 
the  longing  look  in  the  wistful  little  face. 

"Wants  her  folks,  I  reckon,"  he  said,  and  then  set  him- 
.self  to  cheer  her  up. 

Meanwhile  an  animated  conversation  went  on  behind 
them  in  very  low  voices,  alas ! 

' '  Proud !"  said  Polly  Anne.  ' '  My !  you  never  saw  such 
dresses  and  hats — a  red  parasol,  and  shoes  enough  to  set  up 
a  store !" 

"  She  don't  know  one  single  thing!"  was  Jerusha  Dean's 
exclamation.  "Afraid  of  the  gobbler  and  of  the  geese, 
and  runs  away  from  old  Brindle— the  peacefulest  cow! 
My  mother  says  she  don't  believe  in  bringing  girls  up  to 
do  nothing  but  play  the  piano  and  dance." 

"She's  brought  her  nurse  with  her.  Thirteen,  and  has 
a  nurse  tagging  after  her:" 

"That  big  girl!"  said  Lidie  Stelle,  with  profound  sur- 
prise. "Polly,  what  does  the  nurse  do  for  her ?" 

"  Everything,"  said  Polly — "combs  her  hair,  mends  her 
kid  gloves,  brushes  her  dresses,  goes  with  her  wherever 
she  goes.  When  she's  home  Bettine  takes  her  to  school, 


and  goes  after  her  when  it's  out,  and  always  escorts  her  to 
the  Park,  unless  the  sweet  pet's  mamma  goes  instead." 

"Stuck-up  thing!"  said  Mattie  Keyes. 

"Why  didn't  the  nurse  come  to  the  picnic  ?"  asked  little 
Sue  Parsons,  who  privately  thought  this  talk  rather  mean, 
and  who  liked  Rosalie's  looks. 

"Sick  headache,"  said  Polly,  briefly.  "Wanted  Miss 
Rosie  to  stay  at  home,  only  ma  said  it  would  be  too  bad, 
and  put  the  clear  child  under  my  care." 

As  they  drove  on,  the  day  grew  hotter.  The  breeze  came 
in  puffs,  and  died  away.  The  sun  sent  his  fierce  rays  down 
on  the  fields  and  the  highway,  and  Uncle  John  wiped  his 
brow  with  his  silk  bandana,  and  felt  relieved  as  he  drew 
rein  in  the  grove. 

"We're  going  to  have  a  steamer  to-day,"  he  remarked. 
"  You  youngsters  had  better  not  exercise  too  much." 

"Oh,  it's  cool  under  the  trees,  and  we're  too  far  up  the 
mountain  to  feel  the  heat  much, "said  Ames  Darbee,  with 
confidence. 

Polly  Anne,  who  was  not,  after  all,  without  some  good 
traits,  did  not  neglect  Rosalie.  The  little  maiden  was 
allowed  to  help  set  the  table,  squeeze  the  lemons,  and  pre- 
pare the  dinner,  though  the  girls  let  her  see  that  they 
thought  her  clumsy  in  doing  for  the  first  time  what  they 
did  every  day. 

One  and  another  began  to  tell  of  the  bread  they  had 
made,  of  the  jelly  and  the  cakes  which  were  the  products 
of  their  own  skill. 

"I  have  been  to  cooking  school,"  said  Rosalie,  shyly. 

Just  then,  unfortunately,  the  coffee-pot,  set  for  Uncle 
John's  benefit  on  a  fire  of  brush-wood  lighted  in  a  hollow 
between  two  blackened  stones,  boiled  over. 

Lidie  Stelle  flew  to  the  rescue.  "  If  I'd  been  at  a  cook- 
ing school,"  she  said,  "I'd  have  watched  the  coffee-pot  if 
I'd  been  the  nearest  one  to  it." 

Rosie's  lip  quivered,  but  she  held  her  little  head  high. 

"It  was  not  her  place  to  attend  to  the  coffee,  Lidie 
Stelle,"  said  Polly  Anne.  "Come  away,  Rosie,  and  have 
a  swing." 

Ames  Darbee  and  Frank  Parsons  were  on  the  alert,  and 
swung  the  girls  as  high  as  they  wished  to  go.  Most  of 
them  enjoyed  the  swift  steady  flight  through  the  air,  but 
it  alarmed  Rosalie,  and  she  pleaded  to  stop  before  she  had 
had  half  a  good  swing.  The  old  cat  died  at  last,  and 
Polly  assisted  out  a  child  with  a  pale  face,  who  was  in- 
deed very  nearly  seasick. 

' '  Pouf !"  thought  Polly  Anne,  ' '  what  a  baby  !  Why,  I 
wouldn't  mind  going  to  the  top  of  the  tallest  tree  here." 

But  Rosalie  was  not  the  coward  they  fancied  her.  as 
j  some  of  them  were  to  find  out  before  the  day  was  ended ; 
iior  yet  was  she  a  dunce. 

When  dinner  was  over  somebody  proposed  an  expedi- 
j  tion  to  a  pond  where  the  boys  were  sure  there  were  lots 
of  fish  aching  to  be  caught. 

Uncle  John  was  a  famous  fisherman.  He  declared  that 
the  fish  knew  too  much  to  be  wiled  out  of  the  water  in  the 
middle  of  such  a  hot  day.  "Remember,  children,"  he 
said,  "that  long  meadow  on  Sim's  Hill  is  an  awful  stretch 
through  the  sun." 

"  Oh,  it  won't  hurt  us !"  declared  the  boys  and  girls. 

So,  leaving  Uncle  John  to  sit  on  a  cool  rock  with  little 
Sue  Parsons  on  his  knee,  and  Rosalie  beside  him,  the  rest 
tramped  bravely  toward  the  pond,  with  their  fishing-tackle 
and  baskets. 

S<  >me  time  had  passed— Rosalie  never  knew  how  long, 
for  she  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  old 
man's  stories,  and  was  with  her  mamma  in  a  charming 
dream— when  there  was  a  sudden  outcry. 

She  awakened  to  see  the  children  dragging  themselves 
into  the  clearing,  pale  and  exhausted,  and  as  she  looked  a 
dreadful  thing  happened.  Polly  Anne,  the  color  faded 
out  of  the  ruddy  cheeks,  a  vacant  stare  in  the  black  eyes, 
sunk  in  a  heap  on  the  ground  at  Uncle  John's  feet. 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


699 


"She's  overcome  by  the  sun!"  exclaimed  he,  dazed. 
"  And  I  don't  know  what  to  do  for  her  first.  What  will 
the  Deacon  say  ?" 

"Somebody  should  go  for  the  doctor,  if  there's  one  any- 
where round,"  suggested  Ames. 

"  Put  some  water  on  her  head,"  said  Uncle  John,  "arid 
maybe  she'll  come  round.  I'll  go  for  Dr.  Anselm.  He's 
on  the  turnpike,  a  mile  below." 

But  Rosalie  Haswell  was  not  a  doctor's  daughter  for 
nothing.  She  had  happened,  a  year  or  two  before,  to  have 
been  in  her  father's  office  one  day  when  a  sun-struck  pa- 
tient had  been  hastily  carried  in  from  the  street.  Hidden 
between  the  curtains,  her  presence  had  been  unobserved, 
and  when  Dr.  Haswell  discovered  later  that  she  had  been 
a  witness  to  his  treatment,  he  had  said,  jestingly, 

"Well,  little  woman,  you'll  know  what  to  do  if  you're 
ever  called  upon  in  a  hurry." 

Into  the  midst  of  the  weeping  and  wailing  a  clear  and 
imperative  voice  broke  with  the  ring  of  command: 

"  We  must  not  wait  for  the  Doctor.  There  was  a  good 
lump  of  ice  left  from  the  lemonade,  and  Lidie  wrapped  it 
in  the  blanket;  Frank,  will  you  crush  it  into  small  pieces 
and  bring  it  here,  please.  Minta,  isn't  there  some  dry  mus- 
tard in  a  box  in  our  basket ;" 

Without  haste,  but  with  no  delay,  the  capable  girl,  who 
knew  what  she  was  about,  had  put  crushed  ice  on  1'olly 
Anne's  head,  and  mustard  draughts,  spread  011  strips  of 
her  own  fine  handkerchief,  at  her  wrists  and  feet. 

By  the  time  Uncle  John  with  the  Doctor  came  up  the 
steep  road  as  fast  as  Dr.  Anselm's  mare  could  trot,  Polly 
Anne  had  revived,  had  said  she  felt  better,  and  had  been 
sternly  forbidden  by  the  little  Doctor  to  say  another 
word. 

As  for  Dr.  Anselm,  he  almost  hugged  Rosalie  on  the 
spot,  and  praised  her  presence  of  mind  till  the  wild-flower 
fare  was  dyed  with  blushes  as  deep  as  the  hue  of  a  Jacque- 
minot. 

It  was  a  quiet  party  which  wended  its  way  homeward 
in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  Polly  Anne's  head  ached,  and 
she  was  very  still  indeed,  and  down  in  her  heart  there 
was  another  pain,  which  did  not  go  away  till  she  had  con- 
fessed to  Rosalie  that  she  had  behaved  unkindly,  and  had 
received  her  full  forgiveness.  From  the  day  of  the  picnic 
the  children  were  all  very  fond  of  Rosalie,  and  for  her 
sake  accepted  Bettine  as  their  companion  011  many  a  plea- 
sant excursion.  But  I  have  not  told  you  the  crowning  joy 
of  the  day  to  Rosalie.  When  she  went  to  her  white-draped 
chamber,  ready  to  go  to  bed,  her  nurse  handed  her  a  tliirk 
letter  with  a  foreign  stamp.  It  was  from  Carlsbad,  and 
mamma  wrote  that  dear  papa  was  better. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  PRINCE  LAZYBONES.* 

BY     MRS.    W.    J.    HA.YS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "PRINCESS  IUI.KWAYS."  "PuiL's  FAIIUES,"  ETC. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PAZ,  taking  a  long  breath,  and  looking  at  Leo  to  see 
the  ett'ect  of  his  narrative,  went  on : 

"It  was  quite  time  for  me  to  be  on  land,  for  in  the 
moonlight,  which  bathed  everything  in  silver,  were  to  be 
seen  troops  of  fays  hurrying  to  the  festival.  Some  sailed 
along  the  shore  in  mussel  shells,  others  were  on  the  backs 
of  black  swans  whose  bills  looked  like  coral,  and  others 
were  skimming  along  with  their  own  gauzy  wings,  or  loll- 
ing luxuriously  on  the  feathers  of  flamingoes. 

"  I  joined  the  ones  011  foot,  and  with  them  reached  the 
plantation,  which  presented  a  scene  of  great  brilliancy. 


*  Begun  in  No.  193  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Gold  and  silver  ferns  hedged  the  rose-leaf  path  which  led 
to  the  bower  of  beauty ;  on  every  leaf  were  myriads  of 
fire-flies,  and  glowing  from  higher  plants  bearing  many- 
hued  flowers  were  Brazilian  beetles.  Plunging  into  the 
thicket,  I  made  a  hasty  toilet  at  a  brook-side,  and  then 
rejoined  the  advancing  guests.  The  bell-bird  could  be 
heard  clearly  summoning  our  approach,  while  sweetest 
warblers  poured  out  their  melody.  The  throne  was  form- 
ed of  the  Santo-Spirito  flowers,  and  beneath  the  wings  of 
its  dove-like  calyx  was  the  lovely  fay  in  whose  honor  was 
all  this  gayety,  surrounded  by  her  young  companions. 

"  Approaching  quickly,  I  unstrapped  my  package,  took 
the  satin  case  from  my  pocket,  and  fell  upon  my  knees  in 
the  customary  manner ;  perceiving  which,  the  beautiful  be- 
ing motioned  for  me  to  rise,  and  with  the  most  unassum- 
ing grace  received  my  burden.  As  she  unfolded  the  lace 
from  its  silken  cover  a  cry  of  delight  escaped  her,  and 
shaking  out  its  gossamer  folds,  she  threw  it  over  her  head. 
With  all  the  care  I  could  use  I  had  laid  bare  the  block 
of  ice,  which  shone  like  silver  in  the  moonbeams,  and  now 
with  a  sudden  blow  of  my  dagger  I  cleft  the  ice,  and  lift- 
ed out  the  wreath,  placing  it  as  I  did  so  on  the  head  of 
the  fay. 

"There  was  no  time  for  ceremony.  Had  I  waited  to  pass 
it  from  hand  to  hand  of  the  attendants  it  would  have  beeu 
gone.  There  was  a  hush  over  all  as  I  crowned  the  fay. 
Each  snowy  star  stood  out  in  perfect  beauty.  She  alone 
could  not  see  its  peerless  charm.  But  I  had  provided  for 
this.  Chipping  off  a  thin  layer  of  the  ice  block,  I  laid  a 
silver-lined  leaf  from  a  neighboring  bough  behind  it,  and 
held  this  mirror  before  the  fay's  wondering  eyes.  Never 
have  I  seen  anything  so  beautiful  or  so  fleeting.  Even 
as  I  held  the  reflected  image  before  its  reality,  drops  as 
of  dew  began  falling  over  the  lace,  and  in  a  moment  the 
wreath  was  gone. 

"  Like  a  little  child  robbed  of  a  treasure,  the  look  of  won- 
der and  delight  gave  place  to  one  of  bewildered  disappoint- 
ment. She  turned  a  questioning  gaze  upon  me. 

'  'Alas!'  said  I,  'most  sovereign  lady,  'tis  not  in  elfin 
power  to  reproduce  this  wreath  ;  it  was  the  emblem  of 
human  life,  as  brief,  as  fleeting.  My  Queen  desired  me  to 
bring  it.  I  have  met  with  great  difficulties  in  so  doing, 
but  none  has  saddened  me  like  your  disappointment.' 

"  With  eager  sweetness  she  bade  her  cavaliers  respond. 
They  assured  me  of  her  gratitude  and  delight,  and  bade 
me  welcome.  The  warbling  birds  again  started  their  liq- 
uid strains,  and  a  mazy  dance  began  which  resembled  a 
fluttering  band  of  snowy  butterflies  tangled  in  a  silvery 
web.  Slipping  off,  I  came  to  the  side  of  a  lake  oil  which 
were  boats  and  Indian  canoes  of  the  moccasin  flower. 
Here  I  rested,  watching  the  measures  of  the  dance,  and 
taking  little  refreshing  sips  of  cocoa-nut  milk.  A  swift- 
winged  night-hawk  having  been  placed  at  my  disposal,  I 
had  a  safe  and  speedy  journey  home." 

"  And  is  that  all  ?"  inquired  Leo. 

"  Yes,"  said  Paz.  "  for  here  comes  Master  Knops." 

Leo  thanked  Paz  warmly,  and  turned  toward  Kuops, 
who,  with  hat  in  hand,  stood  gravely  waiting  to  speak. 

"Is  it  the  wish  of  Prince  Leo  to  make  further  ex- 
plorations, or  will  he  now  return  to  his  father  and  his 
home  ?" 

With  some  self-reproach  at  having  quite  forgotten  that 
he  had  a  father  and  a  home,  Leo  said  he  was  ready  to  re- 
turn. 

"And  may  his  humble  servants,  the  distinguished 
savant  Paz  and  the  Master  Professor  Knops,  have  the 
pleasant  assurance  of  Prince  Leo's  satisfaction  at  this 
visit  ?"  asked  Knops.  still  in  the  most  formal  manner. 

"  I  can  not  thank  you  half  as  I  should  like  to  do,"  re- 
plied Leo,  "but  I  hope  to  be  able  to  show  you  that  your 
entertainment  and  instruction  have  not  been  wasted." 

"  Come,  then,  we  will  go." 

"Adieu,"  said  Paz.     "Look  out  for  me  some  fine  frosty 


700 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


night  when  you  are  skating.  You  may  think  you  see 
.some  of  your  furry  friends  startled  out  of  their  winter 
sleep,  but  just  give  a  whistle,  and  say  'Paz,'  and  I  will  be 
with  you." 

"Good-by,"  said  Leo.  "I  hope  it  will  be  soon  that  I 
shall  see  you." 

But  Knops  was  off  and  he  had  to  follow.  Away  they 
went,  climbing  and  clambering,  slipping  and  sliding, 
crawling  and  jumping-,  through  forests  of  coal,  over 
mines  of  iron,  and  beside  walls  glittering  with  silver.  Pre- 
sently, however,  Leo  found  himself  where  they  had  start- 
ed from,  viz.,  his  own  cellar  door,  and  Knops  preparing  to 
leave  him.  Dropping  his  ceremonious  manner,  he  said : 

"  I  am  sorry  to  bid  you  farewell,  my  dear  boy;  I  have 
become  heartily  interested  in  you  and  your  welfare.  The 
only  souvenir  I  have  to  offer  is  this  little  compass;  it  is  a 


'"GOOD-EVENING,  MY    DEAR   PRINCE.1" 

mere  trifle,  but  the  needle  has  the  power  of  finding  precious 
metals.  Learn  how  to  make  it  useful.  Good-by." 

Leo  found  himself  alone.  He  pushed  open  the  cellar 
door,  and  mounted  the  steps  to  the  kitchen.  It  was  early 
morning,  and  the  cocks  were  crowing  lustily.  The  one 
old  deaf  woman  was  striving  to  make  a  fire  burn,  but  the 
wood  was  wet  and  she  found  it  difficult. 

"Where  are  all  the  people?"  shouted  Leo  in  her  ear, 
for  he  well  knew  her  infirmity. 

"Gone — all  gone,"  she  answered. 

"And  my  father,  where  is  he  !" 

"In  bed  yet,  and  he  had  better  stay  there,  for  I've  no 
L>r"akfast  for  him." 

Leo  suspected  what  was  the  matter.  Taking  a  basket 
from  a  peg  and  a.  bowl  from  the  dresser,  he  went  out  into 
the  fields.  Everything  was  sodden  with  the  rain,  but  the 


birds  were  singing  with  all  their  might ;  those  that  were 
not  were  repairing  the  ravages  of  the  storm. 

"  Even  the  birds  are  busy  at  their  nests,"  thought  Leo; 
"everything,  every  creature,  has  its  work  to  do.  Shall  I 
alone  be  idle  ?  Never." 

Putting  aside  the  wet  boughs  which  sprinkled  him  well, 
he  sought  an  old  tree  trunk  for  its  store  of  honey.  Fill- 
ing his  bowl  with  this,  and  his  basket  with  fresh  eggs,  he 
returned  to  the  monastery.  Here  he  helped  the  old  wo- 
man with  the  fire,  and  between  them  they  soon  had  the 
kettle  steaming.  The  tray  with  his  father's  breakfast  was 
made  ready,  and  with  his  own  hands  he  took  it  to  him. 

"  Leo,  my  long-lost  son,"  exclaimed  Morpheus  at  sight 
of  him,  "  where  have  you  spent  the  night  ?" 

"In  Dream-land," was  Leo's  reply;  and  then,  without 
preface,  he  asked  of  his  parent  the  privilege  of  looking 
over  his  accounts,  and  doing  what  he  could  to  assist  him 
in  his  difficulties.  Morpheus  smiled  indifferently,  but 
gave  Leo  his  keys,  with  permission  to  do  as  he  pleased. 

All  the  morning  Leo  puzzled  his  brain  examining  books 
and  papers,  with  little  result.  Then  he  saddled  his  horse, 
rode  into  the  nearest  town,  and  sought  a  lawyer  whom 
his  father  knew.  To  him  he  related  their  grievances, 
telling  him  that  he  was  sure  their  property,  well  man- 
aged, could  be  made  to  yield  handsome  returns,  and  in- 
forming him  of  his  wonderful  compass,  which  could  indi- 
cate the  presence  of  minerals.  The  lawyer  was  not  very 
sanguine,  but  he  put  a  young  clerk  in  charge  of  the  mat- 
ter, who,  becoming  much  interested,  took  up  his  residence 
at  the  monastery,  and  went  to  work  with  diligenpe.  Un- 
der his  guidance  Leo  studied  and  strove  to  regain  their 
former  prosperity.  Laborers  were  eager  to  resume  their 
duties  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  prospect  of  payment.  Crops 
became  abundant.  By  the  aid  of  Leo's  compass — which 
was  only  a  scientific  novelty  yet  to  be  discovered — mines 
were  opened  and  vast  wealth  displayed. 

And  Leo  had  become  a  different  lad.  No  longer  idle 
and  careless,  with  slow  and  lingering  tread,  he  was  now 
alert,  vigorous,  and  manly.  The  servants  were  glad  to 
return  and  obey  his  wishes.  The  monastery  was  rebuilt 
and  repaired.  Lawns  and  gardens  were  in  trim  array. 
Warm  tapestries  and  curtains  lined  the  bare  halls  and 
windows,  while  ivy  and  rose  vines  clambered  without. 

Even  Morpheus,  roused  from  his  iiivalidism,  rewrote 
his  poems,  sent  them  to  a  publisher,  and  favored  all  his 
friends  with  copies  bound  in  blue  velvet,  with  his  mono- 
gram in  silver  on  the  covers.  His  pride  in  his  son  became 
so  great  that  at  Leo's  request  he  undertook  to  renew 
the  library,  and  the  time  that  he  had  spent  in  bed  was  de- 
voted to  the  step-ladder.  It  was  in  this  way  he  discover- 
ed that  their  name  had  been  incorrectly  written.  For  his 
own  part  he  did  not  care  to  make  any  change,  but  he  in- 
sisted that  Leo  should  use  the  portion  omitted,  which  an 
old  copy  of  the  Doomsday-book  had  revealed  to  him,  and 
sign  himself  in  full,  "  Leo  Sans  Lazybones." 

Christmas  was  approaching,  not  a  green  Christmas,  but 
an  icy,  snowy,  frozen  one,  with  holly  wreaths  on  his  shoul- 
ders and  a  plum-pudding  in  his  hands. 

The  monastery  was  full  of  guests,  relatives  of  Mor- 
pheus. These  guests  were  all  poor — in  one  way — but  they 
had  a  wealth  of  their  own  which  made  them  delightful  to 
Leo.  They  were  poets  and  painters  and  scribblers,  and  as 
merry  as  larks;  and  as  they  all  admired  each  other's  pro- 
ductions, there  was  no  end  of  cheerful  nonsense.  The 
children,  however,  were  the  brightest  of  all.  Each  child 
was  as  merry  as  it  was  lovely,  and  the  painters  were  al- 
most frantic  in  their  efforts  to  make  Christmas  cards  of 
them,  while  the  poets  cudgelled  their  brains  for  rhymes. 

To  prevent  too  much  industry  in  that  way  Leo  had  in- 
duced them  all  to  put  on  their  skates  on  Christmas-eve,  and 
glide  over  the  frozen  ponds,  while  he  made  ready  the  tree 
which  stood  in  the  great  hall. 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


701 


It  was  an  immense  spruce,  all  powdered  with  silvery 
fringe,  and  Leo  had  only  to  tie  on  the  little  gilt  tags 
numbered  to  correspond  with  the  packages  of  gifts,  which 
were  heaped  on  surrounding  tables,  and  fasten  on  the 
candles  of  red  and  blue  wax.  When  this  was  done  lie 
put  011  his  own  skates,  for  it  was  yet  too  early  to  light  the 
tree,  and  away  he  went  skimming  after  the  shouting, 
laughing  crowd  of  friends  and  relatives. 

[Suddenly  a  squirrel  darted  from  its  hole  and  went  scud- 
ding across  the  river.  Leo  started  in  pursuit,  giving  a 
low  whistle.  Instantly  it  stopped,  sat  upon  its  haunches, 
threw  off  its  skin,  and  out  stepped  Paz. 

''Good -evening,  my  dear  Prince,  good-evening;  we 
are  well  met;  just  in  time  to  exchange  Christmas  greet- 
ings. I  have  been  looking  for  you  lately,  hut  you  seem- 
ed always  so  occupied  that  there  was  no  chance  for  me. 
You  have  no  idea  how  pleased  Knops  is  to  hear  of  your 
prosperity.  He  has  sent  for  me  a  dozen  times  lately  mere- 
ly to  express  his  satisfaction ;  and  he  wants  me  to  ask  a 
favor  of  you,  which  I  know  already  you  will  grant." 

"Anything  in  my  power,  dear  Paz,"  replied  Leo, 
eagerly. 


"  Of  course ;  and  we  know  how  good  a  use  you  make  of 
your  power.  Times  are  greatly  changed.  You  are  bene- 
fiting every  one  about  you ;  I  hear  it  on  all  sides.  We 
are  proud  to  be  your  friends.  All  that  Kuops  asks  is  that 
in  clearing  up  your  property,  and  cutting  down  all  the 
rank  growth  of  weeds,  you  will  spare  a  patch  of  wild  flow- 
ers here  and  there,  and  all  the  empty  birds'  nests.  Leave 
these  for  the  use  of  our  children,  and  we  will  be  greatly 
obliged." 

"But  that  is  a  mere  nothing;  can  I  in  any  other  way 
serve  you  ?"  asked  Leo. 

"No, "said  Paz,  "not  that  I  know  of.  I  am  on  my 
way  now  to  see  some  new  minerals  supposed  to  be  similar 
to  those  of  the  moon.  I  haven't  much  faith  in  them." 

"How  about  the  diamonds  '." 

"  Don't  mention  them.  I  shall  never  try  my  hand  at 
those  again ;  and  you,  if  you  are  wise,  will  be  contented 
to  let  nature  remain  her  own  chemist.  Adieu.  A  very 
merry  Christmas  to  you." 

"The  same  to  you,"  echoed  Leo,  but  Paz  was  already 
muffled  in  his  furs  and  running  rapidly  away. 


IIAYDEN    AND    HIS    EDUCATED    PIG. 


702 


HARPER'S 'YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


was  just  crazy  to  drive,  so 


VOLUME  IV. 


this  summer  than  it  has  been  for  some  time,  and 
as  it  is  now  August  we  do  not  think  that  the 


at'the'TooT  of  the  hill,  and  we  got  my  little  bro- 
ther to  drive  him  home.  Eddie  has  never  taken 

aByutnoh  "'we^had  such  fun  at  the  party  the 
other  night  !  All  the  young  ladies  and  gentle- 
men came  over  from  Jacksonville,  two  mile: 


away,  to  see  mamma. 
niounli"ljt  night.    Our  c 


LITTLE  POLLY. 

Little  Polly  is  thirsty,  as  plainly  you  see, 
And  I  thiilk,  children  dear,  that  you  all  will 


When  people  are  thirsty  there's  nothing  so  nice 
As  a  glass  of  clear  water  that  sparkles  like  ice. 
It  was  drawn  from  the  well  where  the  shadows 

are  deep, 

And  far  from  the  sunshine  the  crystal  drops  sleep ; 
So  now  little  Polly  may  skip  off  to  play, 
She  won't  need  a  drink  for  at  least  half  a  day. 

OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

NEW  YORK  CITV. 

MY  DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— I  have  read  the  story 
of  Freddie  Schultz  in  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
of  July  31,  and  think  he  was  a  very  cool-headed 
boy.  I  think  you  would  like  to  hear  of  another 
boyi  who  is  spending  the  vacation  at  the  Butcher 
llou«e  1'awliiig.  N''\v  York,  and  who  did  :i  verj 
brave  thing  last  year.  One  day  last  summer  he 
and  his  brother  Eddie  were  down  by  a  brook  in 
Patterson,  New  York.  He  suddenly  saw  smoke 
and  tire  coming  out  from  under  a  bridge  over 
which  the  cars  had  to  pass.  He  knew  that  the 
eastern  passenger  train  would  be  due  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  if  the  engineer  was  not  warned  a 
terrible  accident  would  happen.  He  left  his  br.  >- 
ther,  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could,  waving  his 
hands  and  shouting  loud.  A  quarter  of  a  mile 
on  the  train  came  along  at  full  speed.  Little 
Stuart  at  last  succeeded  in  attracting  the  engi- 
neer's attention,  and  he  shut  off  steam  ;  the  train 
was  stopped,  and  no  harm  done.  If  Stuart  had 
not  given  the  alarm,  many  lives  would  have  been 
lost,  for  the.  Humes  rose  twenty  feet  in  the  air  by 
the  time  the  train  had  stopped.  The  boy's  name 
is  Stuart  Patterson,  and  he  is  now  twelve  years 
old.  He  never  got  a  medal  for  this  act,  or  had 
any  particular  thanks,  as  far  as  I  know.  I  be- 
lieve that  the  passengers  did  not  even  know  of 
their  narrow  escape.  GERALD  G.  M. 

Although  this  little  hero  did  not  receive  a  re- 
ward, he  merited  one,  which  was  better.  There 
are  a  gre.i.  many  unknown  heroes,  and  I  like  to 
think  that  God  keeps  a  record  of  them,  and  that 
though  they  miss  the  praise  of  men,  their  hea- 
venly Father  is  pleased  with  them.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  somebody  somewhere  every  day  does 
brave,  prompt,  resolute  things  which  help  oth- 
ers, and  save  the  world  from  a  great  deal  of  trou- 
ble and  pain.  Whenever  we  hear  of  a  boy  or 
girl  who  thinks  quickly,  acts  wisely,  and  makes 
no  fuss,  not  trying  to  be  thanked,  we  are  glad  to 
tell  the  rest  of  the  young  people  about  tin  deed, 
and  to  publish  the  name  of  the  doer.  It  is  a 
grand  thing  to  be  remembered  for  what  one  has 
done,  and  it  is  grand  to  have  done  a  thing  worth 
remembering,  even  if  it  seems  to  be  forgotten. 
So  I  thank  you  for  telling  us  the  story  of  how 
Stuart  saved  the  train. 


, 

It  was  a  beautiful  bright 
ttage  is  on  a  hill  in  a 

grove  o    oas,  gh  the  moon  was  so 

bright,  the  large  oak-trees  threw  such  deep  shad- 
ows we  thought  we  would  rival  the  moon  and 
illuminate  with  a  flambeau.  So  Mack  made  a 
small  platform,  covered  the  top  with  earth,  and 
then  went  to  the  mountain  for  pine  knots,  which 
he  placed  on  the  top  of  the  earth,  and  when  we 
heard  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  he  lit  the 
flambeau,  and  the  hill  was  bright  as  day  The 
old  yellow  moon  looked  a  little  astonished  at 
tirst  "  and  hid  herself  under  a  cloud,  but  pretty 
s,,,,i'i  she  came  out  to  see  what  we  were  doing. 
Everything  was  so  pretty  !  The  front  and  back 
porches  were  lighted  with  Japanese  lanterns. 
The  old  fiddler  was  on  the  back  porch  (which  is 
verv  large,  and  was  brilliant  from  the  moon- 
lightl,  tuning  up  his  old  fiddle,  telling  them  to 
come  out  and  dance,  which  they  did. 

••  \nd  hand  in  hand,  by  the  edge  of  the  sand, 
They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon— 

The  moon— 
They  danced  by  the  light  of  the  moon. 

And  now  all  was  laughter,  dancing,  and  sing- 
in"  until  twelve  o'clock,  when  they  one  and  all 
came  to  mamma  to  bid  her  good-night,  saying 
what  a  good  time  they  had  had.  Then  they  rode 
home  happy  as  happy  could  be,  in  the  brightest 
moonlight  you  ever  saw.  How  I  did  hate  to  have 
them  go.  for  then  we  children  had  to  go  to  bed. 
Dear  Postmistress,  how  I  wish  you  had  been  at 
our  party  !  JULIE  V.  G. 

And  indeed  it  was  bedtime  for  children,  and  I 
wonder  very  much  whether  you  did  not  feel  a 
little  bit  criss-cross  the  day  after  so  ranch  plea- 
sure. The  flambeau  was  a  fine  idea,  and  I've  no 
doubt  the  party  was  a  great  success.  The  mule 
must  have  been  surprised  at  the  behavior  of  his 
drivers.  I  fancy,  and  perhaps  that  was  why  he 
ran  away. 

COLDWATKR,  MICHIGAN. 

I  am  eleven  years  old.  I  go  to  school,  and  study 
reading,  writing,  spelling,  intellectual  and  higher 
arithmetic,  grammar,  history,  and  geography.  I 
have  a  bird  ;  he  is  a  beautiful  singer.  His  name 
is  Dick.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Housekeepers' 
Sociable.  TINA  M.  D. 

The  pattern  you  ordered  in  this  letter  was  duly 
sent,  Tina.  Did  you  succeed  in  cutting  and  mak- 
ing the  Nautilus  !  _ 

PASS  CHRISTIAN-,  MISSISSIPPI. 

I  am  a  boy  ten  years  old.  I  received  a  year's 
subscription  to  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  as  a 
birthday  present,  and  I  enjoy  reading  it  very 
much.  For  a  long  time  it  was  my  pleasure  to 
borrow  the  paper  from  a  friend.  We  have  a  pret- 
ty home  at  this  watering-place,  with  a  large  oak- 
tree  in  front,  near  the  beach.  The  tree  measures 
four  yards  around  the  trunk.  We  have  a  great 
many  chickens,  and  our  hens  lay  all  over  the 
house,  in  the  funniest  places,  even  on  our  beds. 

SIDNEY  II. 

What  enterprising  hens  : 


York, 


I  would  like  to  tell  you  about  a  drive  and  a 
party  we  have  had.    My  cousin  Eddie  came  to 


ST.  HKI.ENA,  CALIFORNIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  1  am  staying 
at  the  house  of  a  lady  in  the  country  for  a  little 
while.  She  has  a  little  baby  girl  whose  name  is 
Cora.  I  like  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much,  and  I 
think  "Nan"  and  the  Jimmy  Brown  stories  are 
very  nice.  I  have  a  kitten  named  Tabbie ;  she 
hurt  her  eye,  but  it  is  getting  well  now.  I  have 
littei-n  dolls.  My  largest  is  named  Zilla ;  she  is 
very  pretty.  IDA  B. 

Fifteen  dolls  are  a  throng,  I  think, 
With  golden  hair  and  cheeks  of  pink  ; 
Blue  eyes,  brown  eyes,  gray  eyes  too— 
The  little  mother  finds  work  to  do. 


MEMPHIS,  TENNESSEE. 

I  wrote  to  you  once  before,  but  as  my  letter 
was  not  published.  I  concluded  I  would  write 
again.  I  hope  this  one  will  be  published.  I  have 
never  taken  any  other  paper  except  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE, and  I  enjoy  that  exceedingly ;  in  fact.  I  do 
not  know  what  I  would  do  without  it.  Will  you 


Are  you  making  the  Nautilus  for  one  of  your 
dolls  ?  I  would  like  to  peep  at  you  in  the  tree ;  a 
cozy  little  work-room.  Address  your  letters  to 

Messrs.  Harper  <fc  Brothers, 

Fiaiitlin.  Square, 

and  they  will  come  safely. 

WOODHL-LL,  ILLINOIS. 

I  thought  I  would  send  you  a  letter  in  rhyme ; 
It  may  do  for  the  first  time. 

I'm  a  little  boy  aged  ten ; 

I  work  in  the  field  with  the  men  : 

I  plough  and  harrow  and  work  all  day. 

And  sometimes  at  night  I'm  too  tired  for  play. 

The  chickens  1  feed  and  water. 

Run  after  the  colts  with  a  halter. 

Help  feed  and  water  the  pigs  too, 

And  many  other  chores  I  have  to  do. 

I  have  thirty  turkeys,  counting  in  six  that  are 

Chickens'  one  hundred,  fifty  of  Plymouth  Rock 

fame. 

A  cow  and  a  calf  all  my  own, 
Which  will   give   me   quite   a  start   when  1  m 

grown. 

I  have  a  fine  black  dog  named  Trip ; 
When  we  hunt  squirrels  he  makes  themjuM  slop, 
In  this  sport  I'm  helped  by  my  brother  Will; 
Pa  gives  us  a  nickel  for  every  one  we  kill. 
I  have  twenty-five  kinds  of  grasses  and  grams, 
But  I  don't  know  all  their  names. 
Whenever  I  can  I  go  to  school. 
And  there  I  am  careful  to  mind  the  rule. 

LUTHER  O. 

Very  well  done  for  a  young  person  of  ten.  I 
am  sorry  you  hunt  the  squirrels,  but  I  suppose 
they  are  so  numerous  that  they  are  looked  upon 
as  trespassers  on  the  farm.  One  sat  on  a  tree 
and  looked  at  me  the  other  day  with,  oh  :  such 
bright  eyes !  I  am  sure  he  wanted  to  know  what 
I  was  doing,  and  he  came  close  enough  to  peep 
over  my  shoulder.  But  nobody  is  allowed  to 
frighten  or  molest  a  squirrel  on  that  estate,  so 
the  little  fellows  are  very  tame. 

I  would  like  to  see  your  chicks  and  the  young 
turkeys,  the  cow,  the  calf,  and  the  colt.    Now 
let  me  try  if  I  can  rhyme  a  wee  bit  for  you : 
I  hope  'tis  not  often  that  Luther  at  night 
Is  too  tired  for  play  ;  that  would  hardly  be  right. 
I  am  glad  that  a  lad  who  is  busy  and  clever 
Is  going  to  school,  for  I'm  sure  he  will  never— 
No,  never— receive  a  demerit,  but  stay 
Near  the  head  of  the  class  every  hour  of  the  day. 

LAWRENCE,  KANSAS. 

I  live  in  the  northeastern  part  of  Kansas,  on 
the  Kansas  River.  The  river  is  pretty  to  look 
at  but  it  drowns  too  many  people.  The  other 
day  a  little  boy  was  drowned.  I  am  thirteen 
years  old.  I  take  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  11  tile 
Awake  St.  Nicholas,  and  Youth's  Companion.  I 
have  no  pets  except  my  little  brother,  who  is 
four  years  old.  I  have  two  sisters  here  in  Law- 
rence, and  one  in  Carthage.  Missouri.  1  liked 
" Nan"  very  much.  FLORENCE  K. 

Rivers  will  drown  people  who  venture  into  their 
deep  waves  without  having  -learned  to  swim. 
Every  child  whose  home  is  near  a  river  or  lake 
should  be  taught  this  accomplishment.  As  you 
liked  "Nan,"  you  will  like  "Dick  and  D.."  of 
course. 

MANCHESTER,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

We  have  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  from 
the  first  number,  and  like  it  very  much.  \\  e  all 
read  the  stories  of  "Toby  Tyler"  and  "Mr. 
Stubbs's  Brother,"  and  wish  there  would  be  more 
of  the  same  kind.  We  also  enjoy  Jimmy  Brown's 
st  oil,  sand  "liaising  the. 'Pearl.'"  We  have  no 
pet  except  a  bird.  \\"e  had  a  rabbit,  but  it  ran 
away.  I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years  old.  I  have 
two 'brothers,  one  twelve  and  the  other  seven 
years  old,  and  we  all  enjoy  reading  your  letters. 
I  sent  one  letter  to  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  but 
it  was  not  published.  I  hope  to  see  this  one  in 
print.  Good-by.  MINOT  T.  P. 


IH-KHAM.  CA!  IFORMA. 

I  am  a  girl  twelve  years  old.    I  live  in  the  coun- 
try.   I  have  three  sisters  and  one  brother.    I  like 


please  tell  me  exactly  how  to  direct  my  letters?  |  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  and  "  Nan"  best  of  all. 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  Memphis  is  more  healthy  ]  I  will  tell  you  about  my  pets.    I  have  a  goat 


SEPTEMBER  4,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


703 


named  Lily  Dale.  I  have  three  cats  and  three  | 
kill. -us.  My  oldest  cat's  name  is  Tommy  ;  he  is 
eighteen  years  old,  and  he  will  shake  hand"  with 
you.  My  other  eats'  names  are  Charley  and  Pol- 
ly ;  my  kittens' names  are  Pussy  Pinktoes.  Peel- 
garlic\  and  Spidertrack.  I  have  a  canary-bird, 
and  my  sister  has  a  canary-bird.  My  bird's  name 
is  Pip,  and  her  bird's  name  is  Dick.  I  had  a  wild 
oriole,  but  he  died.  1  have  seven  dolls— two  wax. 
and  the  rest  are  dish.  My  wax  dolls'  names  are 
Mary  and  <  'lara  ;  my  other  dolls'  names  are  Cris- 
tenia,  Tilly,  Cecelian,  Casian,  and  Paranie.  I  have 
been  very  busy  taking  music  lessons  for  the  last 
month.  NORA  S. 

Your  kittens  have  very  funny  names.    I  sup- 
pose the  dish  dolls  are  made  of  china. 


CHB 


I  am  a  big  boy  six  years  old.  I  have  a  little 
baby  brother :  his  name  is  Alfred.  I  have  a  dog ; 
his  name  is  Tig  ;  and  I  have  a  cow  :  her  name  is 
Nancy.  I  have  a  cat ;  its  name  is  Spitfire.  1  have 
a  cherry-tree;  it  did  not  have  very  many  cher- 
ries on.  This  is  my  first  letter.  BERTIE  S.  D. 

Very  well  done  for  a  big  boy  of  six. 

A  FAIRY  STORY  FOR  LITTLE  FOLKS. 
Must  children  do  not  like  to  have  their  hair 
combed;  my  sister  and  I  don't.  I  will  tell  yu 
why.  It  is  because  Mr.  Snarl  comes  and  bothers 
us  :"  Mr.  Snarl  is  a  bad  fairy.  As  soon  as  we  go 
to  him-  our  hair  tixed  he  comes  too.  He  docs 
not  like  the  brush  ;  it  is  too  soft.  He  likes  tin' 
roinb,  and  as  soon  as  mamma  takes  it  he  begin* 
and  snarls  and  tangles  our  hair.  Then  the  g.  io.l 

fairy  comes  and  drives  him   away.     The'   u- I 

fairy  likes  the  brush,  and  makes  our  hair  all  nice 
and' smooth.  I  like  the  good  fairy  best  ;  don't 
you?  C. M.  (8 years  old). 

UI.....KI.VS,  NBW  V..KK-. 

What  is  the  good  fairy's  name?  Miss  Patience, 
I  suppose. 

Hi  i  k*r.o,  NK«-  YORK. 

I  am  a  boy  ten  years-  old,  and  I  have  taken  your 
paper  since  the  beginning  of  "Toby  Tyler."  I 
know  K.  T.  s.,  and  I  go  to  ( lhaatauqua  Lake  near- 
ly every  summer.  I  have  three  sisters— Katy, 
Alice,  and  Lucia.  We  also  have  four  pets — two 
dogs.  Tramp  and  Trouble,  and  two  cats,  Peleg 
and  IMuebe  Jane.  When  I  go  to  the  lake  I  am 
going  to  make  that  toy  boat  I  saw  in  your  pa- 
per. This  is  the  tirst  letter  1  have  written  to  you. 
and  I  want  to  surprise  papa  by  his  seeing  it  in 
YOUM.  PKOIM.K.  HAKRY  STONEMAN  W. 

Let  us  know  whether  you  succeeded  in  making 
the  little  boat.  

I  am  a  little  girl  seven  years  old,  and  live'  in 
Burlington.  New  Jersey,  and  now  we  are  in  the 
Catskill  Mountains  for  the  summer.  I  have  a 
sister  thirteen  years  old,  and  a  brother  eleven 
\ears  old.  My  brother  has  a  setter  dog  named 
Spot,  I  had  a  very  cunning  little  pet  dng  that 
we  bought  in  Dresden,  and  when  we  crossed  the 
ocean  he  was  not  a  bit  seasick,  but  we  were  ;  but 
after  that  he  was  sick,  and  died;  then  we  had  a 
real  funeral,  and  we  all  cried,  and  buried  him  in 
the  garden,  and  now  there  are  violets  on  his 
grave,  and  I  was  very  sorry.  Good-by. 

MARGUERITE  H. 

It  was  a  comfort  to  have  the  funeral,  was  it 
not,  dear? 


FORT  WORTH,  TKXAS. 

We  have  been  taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  only  a 
short  time,  but  we  think  it  is  the  nicest  paper  we 
ever  read.  We  have  lived  in  Texas  ten  months, 
and  think  it  isn't  near  so  nice  as  our  old  home, 
Tennessee  Mamma  has  seven  children,  two 
boys  and  live  girls ;  so  you  see  we  have  no  need 
of  any  pets.  We  did  have  three  canaries  this 
summer,  but  two  died,  and  the  other  got  away. 
We  attend  the  public  schools,  and  our  favorite 
study  is  arithmetic.  Our  teacher  is  one  of  the 
best  ladies  we  ever  knew.  Reading  is  our  chief 
amusement,  and  Miss  Alcott  is  the  author  we 
prefer.  We  would  like  to  join  the  Little  House- 
keepers, and  send  a  receipt. 

FLORENCE  and  ASHLEY  A. 

Your  receipt  is  in  another  column.    Thanks. 


BALTIMORE,  MARYLAND. 

I  am  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  I  am  in  the 
Fourth  grade  Grammar  School.  I  like  Tuesday 
to  come,  so  that  I  can  get  my  paper,  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE. Aunt  Maggie  subscribed  for  it  for  me  as  a 
Christmas  present.  I  love  my  Aunt  Maggie.  I 
have  a  little  brother ;  his  name  is  Gussy  ;  he  will 
soon  be  seven.  He  loves  to  go  to  school,  and  he 
says  when  he  becomes  a  man  he  is  going  to  be  a 
doctor.  ALICE  C. 


I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old.  I  have  been 
taking  YOUNG  PEOPLE  this  year,  and  like  it  ever 
so  much.  I  was  sorry  "Raising  the  'Pearl'" 
stopped  so  soon  ;  I  enjoyed  reading  it  very  much. 
I  have  a  little  white  pup ;  Ponto  is  his  name. 
Papa  told  me  if  I  would  go  to  school  and  learn 
to  read  he  would  take  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  me  this 


year;  and  I  learned  in  just  a  little  while,  and 
now  I  read  it  all.  I  am  very  anxious  every  week 
for  it  to  come,  and  I  want  to  see  the  letters  ;  I 
read  them  lirst.  I  would  like  to  see  the  Post- 
mistress. I  think  she  ought  to  head  the  Post- 
office  Box  with  her  picture  ;  can't  you.  dear  Post- 
mistress? This  is  my  first  letter  to  YOUN<;  PKO- 
PLE,  and  sister  wrote  it  for  me,  but  I  told  her 
what  to  write.  Your  little  Texas  friend. 

JIMMIK  B.  B. 

Very  much  obliged,  Jimmie.  but  the  Postmis- 
tress would  not  like  to  have  her  picture  flying 
around  the  world  at  such  a  rate.  Look  at  your 
mamma,  dear  boy ;  perhaps  you  may  fancy  me 
something  like  her. 


PHOIMCIA,  NK\V  Y..HK. 

I  will  write  a  letter  for  the  first.  I  have  no 
sisters  nor  brothers.  My  papa  is  a  blacksmith. 
I  am  most  of  my  time  in  the  shop.  I  make  rail- 
roads, and  cars  that  run  on  a  track.  I  am  con- 
ductor. My  name  is  Herbert  T..  the  baggage- 
master.  Newton  D.  P..  and  the  brakeman  is  Theo- 
dore (;.  I  have  ;m  engine  that  goes  by  steam. 
I  think  when  I  grow  up  I  will  be  an  engineer.  I 

go  to  sel 1.  and  am  in  the  Fourth  Reader.    I 

will  be  twelve  before  yon  receive  this.  I  have 
taken  llAiirEit's  YOUNG  PEOPLE  two  years,  and  I 
like  the  stories  very  much,  especially  "Raising 
the  '  Pearl.'  "  HERBERT  T. 


ELMIRA,  NEW  YORK. 

I  have-  often  thought  I  would  write  to  you, but 
did  not  know  what  to  say.  I  do  not  know  now, 
but  will  think  of  somethitii:  as  I  go  along.  1  have 
taken  HAI:I-FK'S  Vorxu  PEOPLE  since  No.  i,:i  1 
went  with  my  cousin  Carrie  15.  F.  when  she  \vent 
after  hers  one  day.  and  it  looked  so  interesting, 
and  the  pictures  were  s,.  pretty,  that  I  thought  I 
would  take  it  too.  I  am  very  glad  I  do  take  it. 
I  enjoy  the  Post-oflire  BOX  as  well  as  anything 
clse'in'  il  I  also  take  .sv  \n-/n,!ns. 

My  si-ter  and  I  have  spent  part  of  our  vaca- 
tion in  riding  on  a  tricycle.  It  is  a  social  one,  s. i 
t  hat  we  both  go  together.  We  have  had  real  nice 
rides  on  it.  I  presume  you  have  seen  some  like 
it.  It  was  made  in  England.  Only  about  three 
more  weeks  of  vacation  !  How  fust  it  has  gone  ! 
At  least  it  seems  so  to  me.  But  I  love  to  go  to 
school,  so  I  am  nut  very  sorry. 

GERTRUDE  F.  G. 

We  invite  all  the  readers  of  this  paper  between 
the  ages  of  fourteen  and  twenty-one,  who  are 
interested  in  natural  history,  to  become  mem- 
bers of  a  natural  history  society,  the  name  of 
which  is  the  ••  League  of  the-  Voting  Naturalists," 
and  the  object  of  which  is  the  collection,  study, 
and  preservation  of  natural  objects  and  facts. 
For  further  particulars  address  the  President, 
!..  Searing,  '->i'S  \\Vst  one-hundred-and-thirtieth 
sir.  et,  .New  York  city. 


J.  Friend  Ij. :  One  of  these  days  I  will  write  a 
little  sketch  for  the  Post-office  Box,  telling  the 
story  you  ask  for.— Kosa  L.  :  Please  write  a  little 
letter  all  in  your  own  words  ;  don't  copy  that  of 
some  other  child.  I  am  sure  you  can  do  it  if  you 
try.— M.  S. :  Address  a  letter  to  the  Art  Students' 
League,  38  West  Fourteenth  Street,  New  York 
city,  inclosing  a  stamp  for  a  circular,  and  you  will 
receive  the  information  you  desire.— Thanks  for 
la  \.n-s  are  sent  to  Emily  (irattan,  E.  Lillian  .!., 
John  T.,  Arthur  F.,  Elisc  and  Amy  It..  .Matilda  J., 
Tommy  T.,and  Mary  Jane  W. 


.  RECEIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

A  SIMPLE  LEMON  TART.— Six  butter  crackers, 
one  cup  of  molasses,  half  a  cup  of  sugar,  a  table- 
spoonful  of  butter,  three  lemons,  juice,  pulp,  and 
grated  rind  ;  soak  the  crackers  in  cold  water  un- 
til soft;  stir  in  sugar,  molasses,  and  butter,  and 
add  the  lemons  ;  bake  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
in  -mail  or  large  dishes. 

This  may  do  for  boys  who  are  going  on  a  fish- 
ing expedition. 

LEMON  PIES.— Six  eggs,  whites  and  yolks  beaten 
separately  ;  four  crackers,  broken  up.  and  boiled 
in  a  cup  of  sweet  milk  ;  when  cool  add  the  beat- 
en yolks  of  the  eggs,  half  a  cup  of  sugar,  a  table- 
spoonfnl  of  butter,  the  juice  of  four  lemons,  and 
the  grated  rind  of  two  ;  bake  in  pie-pans,  with  a 
bottom  crust  only;  when  done  beat  three  cups 
of  white  sugar  with  the  whites  of  the  eggs,  and 
spread  on  the  tops  of  the  pies,  and  brown. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 
No.  1. 

AN  EASY  GEOGRAPHICAL  PUZZLE. 

Two  princely  youths,  who  knew  no  , 

Arose  one  morn  to  chase  the  deer. 
'Twas  in  the  blossoming  month  of  May, 
And  every  bird  on  verdant  spray, 

Greeting  the  sun's  forthcoming , 

Poured  out  a  merry  roundelay. 
Though  early  dawn,  the  sky  was  . 


"  Haste,  oh  !  haste,  my  brother  dear, 
Lest  something  suddenly  appear, 
liringing  the  floating  clouds  together, 
To  spoil  for  us  this  bright ." 

"I'd  ride."  said to  the  —       — , 

".lust  for  the  joy  one  shot  to  send." 
"And  I,"  the  other  said,  "am  able 

To  hunt  the  otter  and  the ; 

But  to  the  desert  some  will  hie. 

Though  somewhat  .just  to _ try 

Their  luck  where  green  oases  lie. 

It  \vell-betitteth  noble  — 

To  excel  in  every  manly  grace. 

Fearless,  though  pent  in  busy  town, 

To  roam  the  meads  and  moorlands  brown, 

To  know  each  turn  of  mountain  path, 

Nor  shun  the  wild  beast's  fiercest ." 

This  was  a  speech  for  boys  quite  spicy. 

They  knelt  to  quaff  the  water ; 

The  elder  gazed  upon  the  — 

cut  short  the  horses' grassy  feast. 

" ."cried  he,  "we'll  hasten  forth, 

And  turn  us  to  the  breezy , 

For  there  the  deer  was  seen  at  morn, 

We'll  wake  the  echoes  with  our . 

With  noble  quarry  hunters  cope. 

To  bring  him  down  they  have  —         — ; 

Up  and  aw'ay  with  view  halloo, 

The  dogs  have  rushed  the  thicket  through ; 

(  p  and  away  o'er  bosk  and  dell. 

And  till  we  meet  we'll  say ." 

(Fill  the  blanks  with  the  names  of  capes.) 

DAME  PLAYFAIR. 

No.  2. 

AN  EASY   HALF-SQUARE. 

1.  To  ensnare.  2.  A  city  in  the  United  States. 
:),  Relating  to  rotary  motion.  4.  An  attendant 
.in  Cleopatra  in  Shakspeare's  tragedy.  5.  No- 
thing. 6.  A  Gothic  prefix.  7.  A  vowel. 


No.  3. 

A   SQUARE. 

1.  A  city  of  Italy.    2.  An  effigy.    3.  A  stone.    4. 
To  pasture.    5.  Beds  prepared  by  birds. 

C.  E.  and  A.  H.  TIMMERMAN. 


No.  4. 

FOUR    DIAMONDS. 

1.— 1.  A  consonant.    2.  Pleasure.    3.  Is  sweet. 
4.  A  horse.    5.  A  consonant. 

2.— 1.  Aletter.    2.  A  drinking  vessel.    3.  A  girl's 
name.    4.  A  cooking  utensil.    5.  A  letter. 

3.— 1.  A  vowel.    2.  A  monkey.    3.  A  fruit.    4.  A 
fairy.    5.  A  vowel. 

4. — 1.  A  consonant.    2.  A  cage.    3.  A  fruit.    4. 
A  negative.    5.  A  consonant. 

HERBERT  HUNT  MORRISON. 


No.  5. 

ENIGMA. 

He  is  very,  very  tall. 

And  very,  very  slim. 
And  his  head  is  rather  small 
For  such  a  length  of  him. 

To  bend  his  neck  for  daily  fare 
Is  quite  beneath  him ;  so,  instead, 

He  eats  his  meals  up  in  the  air; 
He  is  a  curious  quadruped. 

His  form  is  most  unshapely. 
Though  his  eye  is  large  and  dark, 

And  his  movements  are  so  stately : 
He  lives  at  Central  Park.  A.  M. 


No.l. 
No.  3. 


No.  3. 


No.  4. 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  198. 
Postal  card. 
ODOR 
DARE 
I)    K   A   L 
RELY 

W  ash. 

A  rt. 

S  hoe. 

H  int. 

I  ron. 

N  umber. 

(.   oal. 

T  line. 
O  ctober. 
N  aval. 

R 

BAR 

BEDEW 

R  A  D  I  C  A  L 

RECUR 

W  A  E 

L 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
f  r.  mi  ( 'harles  Waugh  Reynolds,  C.  E.  and  A.  H. 
Timmerman.  Smith  C.  Goodwin.  Herbert  Hunt 
Morrison,  Eureka.  D.  D.  D..  II.  Kensett,  Samuel 
Bronson,  Fannie  S..  Helen  W.  Wardner,  Milly  F., 
Hope  Dean.  Rosa  and  Freddie,  John  Post.  Emily 
Sophia  P  ,  Maria  Farmer.  Jack  and  Gill,  Fern 
Hapgood,  Daisy  Miller,  and  Lucie  W.  Bradley. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  id  and  3d  pages  of  cover.'] 


701 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


:;  , 


A    COW    HIDING. 


THE  WAY  IT  STRUCK  HER. 

BY  MAIiGARET  EYTINGE. 
A    LITTLE  ragged  orphan  girl,  who  ne'er 
JTi-  Had  had  a  home  nor  known  a  parent's  care, 
And  who,  with  shoeless  feet  and  hatless  head. 
Newspapers  sold  to  earn  her  scanty  bread, 
Was  taken  from  the  city  far  away. 
With  others  of  her  kind,  one  summer  day, 
To  look  upon  the  ocean.     At  the  sight 
Her  thin,  sharp  face  was  filled  with  grave  delight: 
And  some  one  said,  "I  wonder  what  can  be 
Her  thoughts,  poor  child,  about  this  mighty  sea." 
She  heard  the  words,  and  quickly  turned  her  head. 
And  in  low  tones,  "I's  thinkiu',  ma'am,"  she  said, 
"I's  glad  I  corned,  because  I  never  sor 
Enough  of  anything  at  wunst  before." 


WHO  WAS  HE? 

BY    !_,.    A.    ITRANCK. 

HE  was  born  one  hundred  years  ago,  the  date  of  his  birth 
being  April  ;!,  1783,  and  the  place  the  city  of  New  York. 
He  was  the  youngest  of  eleven  children. 

He  was  four  years  old  when  General  Washington  was  inau- 
gurated President  in  New  York.  He  was  then  attending  a 
school  in  Ann  Street,  kept  by  Mrs.  Kilniaster.  Later  he  went 
to  a  school  taught  by  Benjamin  Romani.  He  was  fond  of  read- 
ing, and  had  quite  a  reputation  iu  school  for  his  composition. 
He  disliked  arithmetic,  and  would  often  write  compositions  for  j 
the  boys  if  they  would  work  out  his  examples. 

He  devoted  his  spare  time  to  reading  books  of  travel,  and 
had  a  great  desire  to  go  over  the  sea. 

He  left  school  when  he  was  sixteen,  and  spent  the  two  follow- 
ing years  studying  law. 

When  he  was  nineteen  he  wrote  a  number  of  articles  for  a 
paper  printed  by  his  brother,  which  attracted  considerable 
attention. 

In  1804  his  health  failed,  and  ho  made  a  trip  to  Europe.  While 
in  Rome  he  met  an  American  painter,  and  for  a  short  time 
thought  of  becoming  an  artist  and  studying  with  him. 

After  an  absence  of  two  years  he  returned  home,  with  his 
health  restored.  He  again  Iiegan  his  literary  work.  He  and 
eight  of  his  friends  called  themselves  "The  Nine  Worthies,"  or 
"The  Lads  of  Kilkenny,"  and  formed  an  informal  club. 

He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1806.  When  Aag'on  Burr  was 
tried  for  treason  he  was  engaged  as  counsel  against  him. 

In  1815  he  again  went  to  Europe,  where  he  remained  seven- 
teen years.  During  that  time  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of 


Legation  to  the  court  of  St.  James.  While  iu  Europe  he  became 
acquainted  with  persons  of  note,  and  continued  his  literary  work. 

After  his  return  to  the  United  States  he  travelled  extensively. 
He  went  West  as  far  as  Arkansas,  where  he  hunted  buffalo,  and 
enjoyed  the  wild  scenery  of  what  was  then  the  extreme  West. 

He  declined  various  invitations  to  engage  iu  political  life. 
He  was  nominated  Mayor  of  New  York  city  in  1838,  and  to  be 
Secretary  of  the  Navy  under  Van  Buren.  He  accepted  the  post 
of  Minister  to  Spain  in  1842,  and  returned  to  the  United  States 
four  years  later.  He  still  continued  his  literary  work. 

He  took  a  great  interest  in  all  improvements  of  schools  and 
churches,  and  was  always  ready  to  give  to  any  one  who  needed 
help.  He  was  fond  of  children,  and  took  au  interest  in  what- 
ever they  did. 

He  died  on  the  28th  of  November,  1859. 


C 


THE  IRREVERSIBLE  CARD. 

UT  a  playing-card  in  half  lengthwise,  and  turn  down  the 
ends  about  a  third  of  au  inch,  as  iu  diagram. 


A  whole  playing-card  is  too  heavy.  A  lady's  visiting-card  is 
sometimes  used,  but  it  is  not  so  good  as  half  a  playing-card. 

Place  the  card  on  a  table  as  iu  diagram,  and  ask  any  one  to 
blow  it  over.  This  seems  easy  enough,  but  unless  attempted  in 
the  proper  way  it  is  almost  impossible. 

To  blow  the  card  over,  blow  down  on  the  table,  and  not  at  the 
card.  Suppose  the  month  is  about  a  foot  above  the  table,  say 
at  the  spot  marked  A  below  (the  straight  line  representing  the 
top  of  the  table,  and  B  the  card),  about  a  foot  and  a  half  from 

•  A 


B  C 

the  edge  of  the.  table.  Blow  on  the  table  about  at  C,  and  the 
card  will  turn  over  readily.  Somewhat  different  distances  suit 
different  people,  according  to  the  way  iu  which  they  blow. 


'GOOD-BY!" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  203. 


PI-ULISHED  BY   HAllPElt  &   BROTHERS.  XKW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  St>i>tfinlifr  11,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HiftriR  A   BBUTHKU. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


OUR    FOAL'S    FIRST    RECEPTION. 


706 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


PEARL. 

BY  SYDNEY   DAYRE. 

"T  ISTEN.  Pearl,  and  mind  all  I  say." 
J_j        Yes   papa." 

"  ( 'an  you  take  can-  of  mother  all  day  :" 
•   Of  coui-se  I  can.  papa.      Are  yon  going  away  ''." 
"Yes;   Sam   and   I  have  to   go  after  those  yearlings. 
And  like  as  not  anntie  won't  be  home  till  to-morrow." 
"AVliat  a  cozy  time  mamma  and  I  will  have! 
"And.  Pearl,  if  I  should  not  be  home  till  late,  can  you 
call  old  Snow  into  the  stable,  and  push  down  a  little  fod- 
der for  her  '." 

"  Yes.  papa,  and  I'll  get  the  chickens  in  too." 
•'  But  let  everything  else  go  for  mother,  dear.      Always 
remember  that." 

"  You  know  I  will,  papa." 

Her  words  were  as  earnest  as  his  own  as  she  ran  after 
him  for  another  kiss:  and  he  added,  as  he  laid  a  braid  of 
her  pretty  hair  against  his  lips: 

"  If  she's  the  least  hit  nervous  toward  night,  don't  leave 
her  a  moment,  my  bird,  but  let  the  animals  take  care  of 
themselves." 

Pearl  lived  on  the  shore  of  the  great  Mississippi,  far 
down,  where  Jack  Frost  never  gets  a  very  tight  grip  on 
things,  and  lets  go  very  early,  as  Madam  Spring  comes 
-miling  about.  Her  father  was  getting  poorer  and  poorer 
year  by  year,  as  his  worn-out  land  grew  less  productive 
with  every  season  of  slack  tillage,  until  he  found  it  hard 
to  wring  from  it  a  living  for  his  small  family. 

The  stock  dwindled  down  to  a  few  poor  ill-kept  erea- 
•  which  looked  a<  if  forlornly  wondering  within  them- 
selves whether  it  were  really  worth  while  to  live  or  not. 
Pearl's  father  had  something  of  the  same  look  himself. 
which  increased  as  his  wife  grew  weakly,  and  gradually 
vaiik  into  the  condition  of  a  gentle  invalid,  content  to  be 
waited  ti]Kin.  without,  perhaps,  ever  pausing  to  ask  wheth- 
er she  really  stood  in  need  of  it. 

You  may  think  Pearl  must  have  had  a  very  sad  child- 
hood. But  she  had  never  known  any  other  place  nor 
any  other  children,  and  was  so  happy  in  her  own  bright, 
unselfish  little  nature  as  never  to  have  sii~pert>-<l  anything 
depressing  in  her  surroundings.  Pearl  throve  a*  nothintr 
on  the  place  throve,  even  under  the  burden  of  care 
which  came  to  her  too  young — showering  back  upon  her 
mother  so  many  caresses  ;>nd  such  loving  care  that  it 
would  be  hard  to  say  which  looked  most  upon  the  other 
as  a  child. 

"I'll  get  your  breakfast,  pet.  Wait  till  you  see  what 
I've  got  for  you." 

Pearl  skipped  about  in  great  glee  at  being  left  in  charge 
for  all  day.  and.  after  the  usual  amount  of  small  fussing, 
carried  in  the  tray  with  a  face  full  of  anticipation  of  her 
mother's  delight. 

"The  first  branch  of  crape  myrtle.      I  found  it  peeping 
out  in  the  sunshiny  corner  of  the  old  pasture.    •  You  poor 
dear  little  mamma" — a  dozen  kisses  on  her  thin  hands — 
"if  yo.'.   only  i-nn]-\   go   with    me   to   see   ail    the  beautiful 
things!      But  I'll  bring  you  every  one.      Papa  thought  he 
had  found  the  first  magnolia  bud  the  other  day.  but  I  had 
it  the  clay  before,  and  never  said  a  word.      No.  I  won't 
a  single  taste  of  egg.      There  isn't  enough  for  vou." 
"  .Tnst  a  taste,  little  one." 

"Not  one  bit.  See  what  a  great  strong  thing  I  am! 
Yon  must  have  the  good  things  to  make  you  well." 

The  lassie  set  her  Joot  down,  and  mamma  never  dream- 
ed that  there  was  something  almost  heroic-  in  the 
of  the  tempting  n:< .i-sc-1.  the  little-  girl  having  ju.-t  turned 
away  from  her  own  uninviting  breakfast   of  bacon   and 
corn-bread. 

"  Thf  river  looks  curiously,  mamma  dear."  she  said. 
•  •hatting  over  the  wild  flowers  she  was  arranging  on  the 
tab!  -bread  their  feaM.  "I  went  into  the  boat  to 


play,  and  when  I  wanted  to  get   out.  the  water  was  be- 
tween it  and  the  shore,  so  I  had  to  jump." 
"Why.  Pearl,  are  you  sure  :" 

"Yes.  mamma:  and  I  was  afraid  I  couldn't  get  in  it 
again :  so  I  untied  it  and  held  the  rope  till  it  floated  to  tin- 
little  bayou,  and  then  I  pulled  it  in  and  tied  it.  It  was 
hard  work,  too." 

"Can  the  river  be  rising.'  I  wish  they  were  not  all 
away,  daughter." 

The  helpless  woman  looked  out  of  the  window  with  a 
troubled  face.  The  floods  of  the  year  before  had  done  but 
little  injury  in  their  neighborhood,  the  land  lying  much 
above  the  river  level.  But  she  knew  that  this  was  due  to 
the  strensrth  of  the  levees  many  miles  above,  and  remem- 
bered having  heard  people  say  that  they  never  would 
stand  another  pressure  of  high  water.  The  river  was  not 
yet  as  high  as  she  had  seen  it.  but  she  observed  with  some 
uneasiness  that  it  had  advanced  upon  them  perceptibly 
during  the  last  few  hours. 

"I  don't  believe  the  levee  will  break,  though."  she  said, 
trying  to  encourage  herself  and  Pearl. 

Their  dinner  was  eaten  rather  more  soberly  than  quite 
suited  the  little  girl;  but  after  everything  was  cleared 
away,  and  she  had  taken  another  look  outside,  both  felt 
better  at  perceiving  that  the  waters  seemed  at  a  stand-still. 
"Bring  me  the  brush  for  your  pretty  hair.  Pearl." 
Jt  was  one  of  the  few  things  she-  still  had  energy  to  do. 
this  brushing  and  fondling  of  the  child's  hair.  No  one, 
seeing  its  beautiful  luxuriance,  could  wonder  at  her  loving 
admiration.  Pearl  took  innocent  pleasure  in  it  as  one 
of  the  things  which  made  her  sweet  to  father  and  mother, 
and  laughed  as  mamma  loosened  the  soft  braids  and  held 
up  the  wavy  mass  to  catch  the  sunshine. 

'"Papa  says  it's  my  golden  flag,"  she  said.  "When  I 
was  out  hunting  old  Snow  last  week  he  knew  it  was  me 
when  I  was  a  .mile  away." 

"Then  you  must  hang  out  your  flag  whenever  you 
want  him  to  find  you.  I  wish  auntie  were  here  to  help 
you  to-day,  my  pet." 

But  the  hand  which  held  the  long  golden  braid  sudden- 
ly dropped. 

"  Look  there.  Pearl '." 

Pearl  sprang  up.  and  saw  trees  not  far  from  their  door 
standing  in  water,  where  water  had  never  been  before-.  In 
one  moment's  glance  she  marked  how  the  river  was  broad- 
ening and  swelling.  There  was  no  sudden  rush  or  roar, 
as  would  have  been  the  case  with  a  narrower  stream,  or 
one  with  high  banks:  but  there  was  still  something  mys- 
terious and  terrible,  in  the  low  sound,  half-hissing,  half- 
murmurmg,  with  which  the  pitiless  flood  was  fast  creep- 
ing ujioii  them. 

-  e  turned  with  one  thought  in  her  brave  little  heart — 
of  caring  for  her  mother  as  she  had  promised. 

"Mamma  darling,  don't  be  frightened.     You  must  get 
to  the  boat  —you  can,  I  know,  when  I  'most  carry  you." 
But  the  poor  woman  cried  and  trembled. 
"  (  111.  why  did  they  leave  us!      The  levee  has  broken. 
We  shall  be  drowned.  Pearl,  all  alone  here." 

Pearl  had   rushed  out  to  the  boat.      Most  fortunately 

thebank  to  which  she  had  towed  and  secured  it  was  high. 

Drawing  it  now  much  nearer  the   house,  she  came  and 

hurriedly  prepared  her  mother,  cooing  to  her  all  the  while 

u-ing   words   of   encouragement,    never    letting    her 

how  her  own   face  grew  pale  and  her  heart  si i 

still  at  sight  of  the  clanger  which  gathered  faster  and  fast- 
er so  near  them.  Again  she  ran  to  the  boat,  and  this 
time,  with  dripping  feet,  moored  it  to  the  door. 

'Now.  mamma — quick!"  Pearl  never  could  tell  how- 
she  got  her  in.  When  it  wa>  accomplished,  she  brought 
a  few  of  the  more  valuable  articles  in  the  house  and  plai-'-d 
them  beside  her. 

Before  all  this  was  done  she  perceived  with  iner< 
alarm  the  violence  with  which  the  long-imprisoned  wa- 


•SEPTEMBER  11,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


707 


te7-s  bore  clown  upon  them.  They  beat  angrily  against 
the  house,  and  redoubled  her  anxiety  to  get  away  from  it. 
But  at  the  last  moment  she  observed  how  the  boat  rocked 
and  tossed,  and  the  idea  suddenly  flashed  upon  her  that 
her  mother  would  be  safer  if  she  herself  remained  be- 
hind. 

"  Mamma,  I'm  going1  to  stay  here  while  you  go  in  the 
boat.  When  you  get  below  the  bend  they  •will  see  yon 
and  get  you.  Tell  papa  to  come  forme.  Tell  him  I  took 
•care  of  you  ;  and  don't  be  frightened,  you  dear.  i!r<rr  mam- 
ma !"  She  gave  her  one  long  embrace,  untied  and  threw 
in  the  rope,  and  carefully  stepped  back  to  the  upper  step 
•of  the  door.  Her  mother  had  not  guessed  her  intention 
till  the  current  was  carrying  them  far  apart.  She  half 
rose  with  a  scream  of  dismay. 

"  Oh,  Pearl !  my  Pearl !  come  to  me!  I  shall  die  with- 
out you !  And  what  will  become  of  you  ?"  She  caught 
one  glimpse  of  the  brave  little  white  face  smiling  at  her, 
as  the  child  called  cheerily  after  her: 

"Don't  be  frightened,  darling.  I'll  come  to  you  just 
as  soon  as  I  can.  God  will  take  care  of  you."  And  then 
the  rushing  waters  shut  out  every  other  sound. 

In  her  alarm  and  despair  the  mother  could  have  flung 
herself  from  the  boa*.  How  tender  the  little  face  was.  and 
how  small  the  childish  figure,  as  it  stood  there  for  a  last 
word  of  encouragement  to  her! 

Pearl's  face  grew  paler  as  the  timbers  of  the  old  house 
groaned  and  creaked.  Her  little  white  kitten  came  mew- 
ing piteously  to  her  feet,  and  she  took  it  in  her  arms, 
while  she  hastily  took  a  bundle  of  papers  from  her  fa- 
ther's desk.  Then  she  walked  through  water  ankle-deep 
to  reach  the  stairs  to  the  half-story  above,  and  sin-  climb- 
ed them  wondering1  if  the  water  would  come  to  her 
there  before  papa  came.  He  had  gone  some  distance  in- 
land, but  she  knew  he  would  come  for  her  as  soon  as  he 
could. 

What  a  wild  waste  of  water  she  looked  out  upon !  She 
saw  barns,  sheds,  sometimes  a  house,  sweeping  down  the 
river.  She  saw  their  own  barn  swing-  out  into  the  cur- 
rent and  float  away.  She  could  hear  tin-  water  rushing 
through  the  doors  and  windows  below,  and  wondered  how 
soon  the  house  would  break  away,  and  follow  those  she 
had  seen  going  down  the  stream. 

"  I  must  hang  out  my  golden  flag,  so  papa  will  see  me." 
Pearl  unbraided  her  bright  hair,  and  looked  wistfully 
out. 

But  the  weary  afternoon  wore  away,  and  night  came 
with  its  gloom  and  its  chill.  Poor  little  Pearl's  courage 
almost  failed  in  the  darkness.  She  sobbed  pitifully  for 
papa— everything  seemed  so  much  more  terrible  than 
when  it  was  light— then  knelt  down  and  said  her  prayers, 
asking  first  that  mamma  might  be  cared  for,  then  herself, 
and,  feeling  comforted  in  the  full  faith  that  God  would 
remember  them  both,  resolutely  set  herself  to  keep  awake 
until  papa  should  come. 

But  her  head  dropped  on  the  window-sill,  and  she  soon 
slept  quietly.  The  winged  messengers  who  wait  on  the 
prayers  of  a  child  surely  guarded  her  rest  with  gentlest 
care,  for  when  at  last  the  strained  timbers  gave  way,  and 
the  old  house  bade  adieu  to  the  foundations  on  which  it 
had  stood  for  many  a  long  year,  she  never  knew  it.  but 
slept  on. 

"I  saw  your  shining  flag.  Pearl,  my  blessing." 

Pearl  opened  her  sleepy  eyes  to  see  the  early  morning 
sun  beaming  upon  her.  All  the  trees  on  the  bank  were 
running  past  her  in  a  most  confusing  manner.  Papa 
was  lifting  her  from  the  window  into  a  boat  held  by  two 
other  men  close  to  the  house,  which  still  rocked  and  heaved 
as  it  settled  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  water. 

"  Papa,  where  is  mamma  2" 

"Safe,  dear.  Some  steamboat  men  brought  her  in- 
shore, and  I  found  her  late  last  night." 


"Oh-h-h!  Well,  then,  papa,  get  my  kitty  and  pool- 
old  Biddy.  Oh  dear!  my  neck  and  my  shoulders  hurt." 

As  the  boat  neared  the  shore  she  opened  her  eyes  in 
amazement,  almost  in  fright. 

"That's  mamma!"  she  cried.  "Standing  up!  Oh. 
mamma,  you'll  hurt  yourself!" 

But  mamma  met  Pearl  at  the  very  edge  of  the  water. 
and  led  her  to  the  house  whose  friendly  doors  had  been 
opened  to  them.  Doctors  have  talked  learnedly  of  such 
cases — about  will  power,  nerve  force,  and  other  things 
hard  to  understand.  All  I  can  tell  about  it  is  that  the 
great  excitement  and  some  very  serious  thinking  had 
worked  a  wonderful  change  in  Pearl's  mother. 

She  now  looked  out  at  the  house,  and  saw  the  water 
pouring  in  at  the  window  from  which  the  idol  of  her 
heart  had  just  been  rescued.  With  arms  tight  about  her, 
she  said : 

"He  has  taken  care  of  us.  Pearl,  better  than  we  could 
have  dreamed." 


CANADIAN  DAYS 

ISY    EDWARD   I.   STEVENSON. 

I. 

EINCE'S  SETTLEMENT, 
where  Cal  Culvert  lived. 
was  as  rough  a  Canadian 
village  as  one  often 
sees.  Seven  or  eight  log- 
houses  straggled  along 
the  lake  shore.  Behind 
these  rose  the  forest. 
largely  a  pine  one.  dark 
green  and  dense. 

There  were  few  boys 
of  Cal's  own  age  (seven- 
teen) in  the  place.  In- 
stead of  going  to  school, 
since  school  there  was 
none,  they  had  to  trap 
and  hunt.  In  place  of 

playing  marbles  or  ball  they  dressed  skins  or  made  snow- 
shoes  and  leggings.  Occasionally  they  spent  the  whole 
morning  together,  fishing  from  the  rude  wharf,  where  once 
a  fortnight  only  a  small  steamer  touched,  bringing  sup- 
plies and  the  mail. 

Culvert  endured  more  or  less  chaffing  from  Job  Wall 
I  er,  Gabriel  De  Zouche,  and  some  others  of  his  cronies  as 
•  being  the  worst  shot  and  the  unluckiest  trapper  of  them 
all.  He  had  some  excuse.  The  Calvert  family  had  ar 
rived  in  Prince's  Settlement  only  eight  months  before,  and 
Cal  could  hardly  have  been  expected  to  become  a  very 
skilled  woodman  within  so  short  a  period.  But  in  due 
time  there  came  to  Cal  his  first  real  adventure.  It  was 
directly  in  this  line,  and  it  won  him  great  glory  in  the 
settlement,  not  merely  with  the  boys,  but  with  every  one 
in  it. 

It  happened  thus:  Wednesday  was  usually  Cal's  day 
for  visiting  his  scattered  traps,  stripping  them  (if  there 
was  anything  in  them  to  strip),  and  fixing  up  matters 
generally.  Accordingly,  out  into  the  road  Cal  strode 
one  Wednesday  morning  in  October,  his  new  gun  over 
his  shoulder,  in  case  anything  should  "turn  up."  and 
hung  to  his  back  his  bug  full  of  odds  and  ends  for  trap 
mending  and  baiting. 

"Coming  along.  Job*"  he  called  out.  as  he  passed 
Waller,  who  sat  in  the  sun  before  his  father's  door,  whis- 
tling, and  busy  over  something. 

"Can't."  returned  Job,  looking  up:  "  father  wants  me 
all  this  mornin'.  Where  you  goin'  ''." 

"Trapping,"  answered  Cal;  "and  then  to  fetch  back 
the  net  my  father  left  up  at  Namoak  Cove  last  night. 
They  had  so  much  else  to  curry  that  they  put  it  behind 


708 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


/    ,      y 

" 

NOW    FOR    WORK. 


the  Pulpit,  and  I'm  to  come  around  tliat  way  to  get  it. 
Good-by." 

Cal  walked  up  the  road,  whistling.  The  woods  were 
about  him  in  a  few  minutes.  Off  upon  his  left  hand  the 
lake  shimmered  like  silver  between  the  trees.  Where  a 
"  blaze"  on  a  trunk  or  some  similar  landmark  warned  the 
boy  of  one  of  his  traps  waiting  to  be  looked  after,  he  turned 
aside  and  halted.  There  was  little  in  them,  all  told,  this 
morning— one  inexperienced  young  mink  and  a  solitary 
rabbit.  Cal  vert  inspected  the  whole  set,  and  by  the  time 
he  had  finished  was  well  along  the  north  shore  of  the 
lake.  The  last  trap  being  considerably  off  the  line  of  tin- 
rest,  and  therefore  well  within  the  edge  of  the  woods,  it 
occurred  to  Cal  that  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  look  up 
the  net  now,  and  then,  after  examining  the  trap,  take  the 
sledge  track  back  to  Prince's  Settlement. 

Accordingly  he  turned  down  directly  to  the  beach.     He 
found  the  object  of  his  errand  where  he  had  been  directed 
to  seek  it,  behind  the  pile  of  bowlders  known  to  the  settle- 
ment as  the  Pulpit.     Cal  folded  the  net  into  as  small  a 
compass  as  he  could,  and  slung  it  loosely  across  his  back. 
Carrying  the  gun  well  out  of  its  way,  he  struck  into  the  I 
woods  again.     The  net  was  tough  and  bulky,  but  not  too  ' 
heavy  to  hinder  him  from  making  his  way  along  lightly 
and  rapidly. 

As  he  turned  to  look  for  his  gun,  which  he  had  laid  on 
one  side  while  folding  the  net,  he  suddenly  heard  a  crack- 
ling in  the  underbrush  on  the  other  side  of  the  clearing. 
A  crashing  of  twigs  and  a  hoarse  bellow  held  him  motion- 
less with  fright.  Opposite  him,  and  looking  at  him  with 
eyes  which,  if  small,  were  at  least  very  red,  startled,  and 
angry  ones,  had  halted  a  large  dark  animal.  The  great 
mule-like  head,  crowned  with  immense  branching  horns, 
the  shaggy  throat  and  powerful  ash-colored  body,  propped 
up  on  four  awkward,  shambling  legs  that  stamped  the  fall- 
en leaves — all  these  things  told  Cal  in  an  instant  that  the 
creature  to  which  they  belonged  was  no  other  than  the 
great  Canadian  moose,  an  animal  already  become  rare 
around  Prince's  Settlement. 

The  moment  that  Cal  recognized  it  he  did  the  most  nat- 
ural and  foolish  thing  he  could  have  done.  He  ran,  with- 
out thinking  of  gun  or  anything  else,  to  the  nearest  tree 
that  looked  large  enough  to  rliinh.  The  moose  bellowed 
again,  and  sham  hied,  head  down,  after  the  flying  boy. 

Only  at  one  time  of  the  year,  (  ictoher,  is  the  Canadian 


moose  an  offensive  animal.  The  rest  of  the  year,  unless 
brought  to  bay,  he  will  rarely  show  fight,  much  less  at- 
tack. But  there  are  occasionally  found  "rogue"  mooses, 
just  as  there  are  "rogue"  elephants.  The  lonely  one  which 
tramps  the  forest  angrily  at  that  season  is  a  thoroughly 
dangerous  foe  on  four  feet,  and  many  a  veteran  hunter 
has  fled  from  such  a  one  for  his  life.  He  is  even  bold 
enough  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  what  excites  his  dis- 
taste. 

C'al  remembered  these  things  in  a  flash  of  thought; 
hence  our  hero's  unheroic  action.  Discretion  is  some- 
times better  than  valor.  So  seemed  it  to  him,  as,  panting 
and  badly  scared,  he  found  himself  perched  out  of  harm's 
way  in  the  ash-tree.  He  had  had  just  presence  of  mind 
enough  to  jerk  the  cumbersome  net  over  his  head  before 
his  upward  scramble.  The  moose  smelled  of  this  as  it  lay 
in  a  heap  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and  struck  his  big  fore- 
hoofs  upon  it  with  the  peculiar  roaring  bellow  that  his 
kind  make. 

Cal  got  his  breath.  The  moose  looked  about  the  clear- 
ing. Then  a  movement  of  the  boy  drew  his  attention 
upward.  He  uttered  again  his  angry  defiance  of  all  the 
men  and  boys  in  Prince's  Settlement,  or  anywhere  else  in 
the  world.  He  shambled  a  few  yards  away,  stood  still, 
and  began  licking  himself.  He  kept  on  licking,  occa- 
sionally lifting  up  his  voice  and  bellowing  for  variety. 
Poor  Cal  saw  that  his  enemy  was  a  gentleman  of  leisure, 
and  designed  holding  the  fort  until  some  new  notion 
should  get  into  his  formidable  head. 

Cal  thought  of  his  gun.  His  buckshot  was  up  the  ash- 
tree  with  him,  but  not  the  gun.  There  it  lay,  only  a 
dozen  yards  from  the  ash  trunk,  below.  Cal  recollected 
the  boys.  "Treed  by  a  moose"  did  not  sound  exceedingly 
pleasant.  He  also  remembered  the  approach  of  after- 
noon, the  coming  on  of  sunset,  his  being  missed,  the  pro- 
bable alarm  of  the  settlement,  the  raising  of  this  siege  in 
one  way  or  another,  but  possibly  not  until  after  the  cold 
and  misery  of  a  night  in  the  forest.  Perhaps  it  was  think- 
ing of  all  these  unpleasant  things  so  seriously  that  made 
the  boy  move  his  head.  His  hat  fell  off. 

At  the  sight  of  the  falling  object,  the  moose  lowered  his 
horns  and  rushed.  He  sent  them  crashing  against  the. 
hole  nf  the  tree  for  his  folly.  More  than  that,  he  en- 
tangled his  antlers  in  a  loose  fold  of  the  seine.  He  tossed 
up  his  great  inuz/.le.  Tile  net  fell  like  a  coarse  bridal  veil 


SEPTEMBER   11,  1833. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


709 


over  his  moosesliip's  nose.  He  roared  and  shook  his  head 
and  neck  in  a  rage ;  the  whole  length  and  breadtli  of  the 
tough,  stout  mesh-work  unfolded  and  cascaded  over  both. 
The  exasperated  animal  started  to  run.  He  progressed 
several  hundred  feet  within  the  trees,  shaking  and  tossing 
his  lowered  head.  Then  Cal  saw  the  creature  halt  and 
throw  itself  down  upon  the  ground  in  the  thicket,  crash- 
ing the  twigs  and  leaves  beneath  its  weight.  Unfortu- 
nately for  the  moose,  the  net  was  a  comparatively  new 
and  strong  one,  and  by  this  time  it  was  hopelessly  twisted 
and  wrapped  about  the  broad  horns  and  head. 

Gal's  mind  was  made  up.  Our  hero  was  no  coward, 
though  he  had  been  badly  frightened.  He  did  not  wait 
one  instant  longer  to  give  the  somewhat  exhausted  but 
powerful  animal  time  to  get  rid  of  the  source  of  his  be- 
wilderment and  anger.  Down  he  slid  from  bis  niche. 
The  moose  was  still  stumbling  about  blindly  in  the  brush. 
He  was  safe  for  more  minutes  than  Cal  needed. 

The  boy  darted,  shaking  with  excitement,  to  his  gun. 
He  seized  it,  and  reloaded  it  with  unsteady  lingers.  Breath- 
less, he  glided  toward  the  scene  of  bis  foe's  confusion. 
The  moose  was  actually  upon  his  side  now,  rolling  bis  en- 
meshed head,  and  with  one  leg  seemingly  caught  fast  also 
for  a  moment.  Cal  tried  to  keep  the  quick  beats  of  his 
heart  from  spoiling  his  aim.  He  fired.  The  moose  bel- 
lowed and  plunged  over.  Cal  fired  again.  The  second 
barrel  did  the  business.  The  animal  ceased  his  mad  strug- 
gles, rolled  once  more,  and  was  dead. 

Two  hours  later  Job  Waller  and  several  other  of  the 
Settlement  folks  were  startled  at  the  sight  of  a  boy  rush- 
ing up  the  sledge  track  where  they  stood,  and  calling  out, 
triumphantly,  "Hurrah!  I've  killed  a  moose."  It  is  to 


be  feared  that  many  of  his  hearers  had  doubts  as  to  the 
truth  of  Cal's  odd  story  as  they  set  out  at  once  for  the 
scene  of  it.  But  with  twilight  "the  biggest  moose  seen 
in  Prince's  Settlement  for  two  years"  was  brought  back  in 
procession. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  record  that  after  such  an  event 
Cal  never  was  twitted  by  his  hunting  chums  for  empty 
traps  or  stray  shots.  He  had  made  his  reputation.  It 
was  only  Long  John  Capiteau  who  dared  to  make  a  little 
good-natured  fun  at  his  expense  by  asking  Cal  now  and 
then  "whether  it  still  took  his  gun,  a  twenty-foot  net, 
an'  a  ash-tree  to  land  one  horn-pouter."  Such  was  the 
first  of  our  hero's  chances  in  the  North.  But  one  far  more 
serious,  and  involving  others  besides  himself  in  its  course, 
was  to  come  soon  enough  after. 

[TO   BE   CONT1NGKD.] 


•DICK     AND     D." 

BY    LUCY    C.    LILLIE. 

Author    of    **  Alildred's    Bargain,"   *' Nan,"   etc. 


CHAPTER  VII.  , 

DICK  TEACHES  GYMNASTICS. 

IT  may  readily  be  imagined  that  Dick  Devine  and  Norry 
awaited  with  impatience  another  visit  from  their  new 
friend.      It  was  not  that  the  delights  of  the  first  visit  had 
ceased  to  give  them  both  occupation  for  thinking  and  talk- 

*  Begun  in  No.  I'M,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


•IT    WAS    A    MOST    ]>IS<;I(.-U'EFUL    SIGHT.  MA'AM— SIR.'" 


710 


IIARPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


ing-,  or  that  they  needed  new  material;  but  with  Master 
Dick's  appearance  something-  seemed  to  have  conic  into 
the  hearts  of  the  lonely  boys  which  made  life  seem  alto- 
gether a  happier,  more  hopeful  thing-,  and  Dick  felt  as  if 
his  hardest  searches  for  work  could  be  undertaken  in  a 
newer  and  brighter  spirit. 

He  had  no  occasion  to  go  that  week  to  Dr.  Field's,  al- 
though he  longed  to  do  so,  and  once  he  had  to  indulge 
himself  in  a  walk  around  the  house,  hoping  for  a  glimpse 
of  Dick  Bearing  or  Barbara,  but  no  one  appeared  at  the 
windows,  and  he  went  home  a  trifle  down-hearted.  The 
work  he  found  during  those  days  was  chiefly  carrying 
parcels  for  travellers  at  railway  stations,  or  going  errands 
for  people  who  went  in  or  out  of  the  large  hotels.  Often 
his  earnings  were  not  more  than  lifteeii  cents,  and  as  it 
was  his  habit,  learned  from  his  mother,  always  to  lay  aside 
a  certain  portion  for  the  weekly  rent,  very  little  remained 
for  food  or  fire.  But  Norry,  with  his  accordion,  seemed 
perfectly  content  on  bread  and  milk,  and  as  Dick  would 
ret  u I'll  from  his  long  rambles  he  heard  the  strains  of 
"Home,  sweet  Home''  long  before  he  reached  the  attic 
door. 

Hurrying  in  one  windy  day.  he  found  a  joyful  surprise. 
Master  Dick  was  seated  by  Norry,  regaling  him  with  nuts 
and  cakes,  and  talking  in  his  gayest  voice,  while  Norry's 
shrill  laughter  greeted  Dick's  entrance. 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad !"  Dick  exclaimed ;  and  his  first  idea  was 
to  help  along  the  little  fire,  at  which  Dearing  assisted  very 
good-humoredly. 

"Why  haven't  you  been  up  at  the  house  ?"  he  asked 
Dick.  "  I  told  Brooks  to  ask  you." 

''Well,  he  said  lie  wouldn't  need  me  this  week,"  Dick 
answered.  "And  I  didn't  like  to  go  else;  but  I  walked 
around  the  house  once,  hoping  to  see  you." 

"I  meant  to  take  you  to  the  circus," said  Master  Dick, 
a  little  loftily.  "Can  you  do  any  gymnastics  .'" 

Dick  announced  that  lie  could  turn  a  somersault. 

"All  right;  let's  see  you  do  it. "said  Dearing.  ''Per- 
haps you  could  teach  me.  WTe  fellows  at  Barnabas  al- 
ways like  to  bring  back  some  new  dodge,  you  know,  and 
I  don't  believe  any  of  them  know  that." 

So  with  true  boy's  love  for  such  performances  Dick  De- 
vine  turned  his  somersault,  to  the  great  delight  of  his 
young-  patron,  who  immediately  tried  to  imitate  him. 
But  somersaulting  isn't  to  be  learned  in  a  moment,  and 
so  it  came  about  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  knocking 
around,  and  rubbing  of  shins,  and  a  general  air  of  rioting, 
to  which  Norry  listened  appreciatively. 

Both  boys  were  purple  with  their  efforts  and  with  their 
laughter.  Dick  Devine  was  in  the  act  of  a  most  daring 
turn,  when  the  door  was  suddenly  opened.  A  chill  hor- 
ror struck  them.  There  stood  the  awful  Mr.  Brooks,  with 
an  expression  on  his  majestic  countenance  which  I  dare 
not  venture  to  describe. 

Dick  Devine  came  to  his  feet,  panting  and  subdued. 
The  other  Dick's  face  had  assumed  rather  an  angry  glare. 

"Is  f/tix  where  you  run  away  to,  Master  Dick;"  said 
Brooks,  a  terrible  tone.  "And  lured  along  by  this  lou  . 
ungrateful  varmint,  as  ought  to  be  had  up  for  deceiving 
us  all,  and  taking  you  into  bad  company." 

"Oh,  you  hold  up,  Brooks," said  Master  Dick,  as  boldly 
as  be  could,  although,  truth  to  tell,  he  was  a  little  fright- 
ened. "  He-  isn't  bad  company,  and  he  didn't  lure  me  here, 
as  you  call  it,  and  I  won't  be  bullied  by  you,  either;  and 
I'd  like  to  know  how  you  knew  I  was  here." 

Brooks  waved  his  hand  contemptuously. 

"  Miss  Barbara  knew  it,  and  your  aunt  and  your  grand- 
father are  in  a  most  awful  way  about  it." 

"Did  Barbara  send  you  ?''  Dick  flashed  out.  "It  isn't 
a  bit  like  her.  She  knew  I  was  coining,  but  she's  no  sneak, 
if  she  is  a  girl." 

You're  to  ciime  home  at  once,"  pronounced  Brooks, 
"  and    you'll    see     for    yourself    what    '11    be    said    and 


done.  And  as  for  you,  you  miserable  rascally  boy,  you 
are  to  come  up  to-night  and  see  the  old  gentleman  him- 
self." 

Dick  Devine  had  found  it  impossible  to  speak.  He  stood 
still  with  a  terrible  sense  of  guilt  in  this  matter,  even  though 
he  knew  he  had  never  done  Master  Dick  any  harm.  Yet 
he  might  have  known  this  attic  in  a  low  street  was  not  the 
place  for  a  boy  like  his  new  friend  to  come  to.  Yet  it  had 
been  such  a  happiness — and  for  Norry  too! 

"  I  ought  to  have  known  better,"  he  stammered,  looking 
very  wretched  indeed.  "And  I  hojje — oh,  I  do  hope — I 
haven't  got  Master  Dick  into  trouble !" 

"  You  may  well  say  you'd  oughter  have  known  better," 
Brooks  said,  with  withering  emphasis.  "  But  you'll  see! 
Come  along  now.  Master  Dick  ;  you're  wanted  imme- 
diate." 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go.  Dick  Dearing  de- 
parted, however,  with  a  great  show  of  sympathy  for  both 
Norry  and  Dick  Devine.  and  refused  to  do  more  than  walk 
along  by  Brooks,  who,  with  a  policeman's  air,  was  for  hold- 
ing him  by  the  shoulder. 

When  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  had  died  away,  Dick 
Devine,  feeling  more  wretched  than  ever  since  his  mother's 
death,  crept  close  to  Norry  and  explained  it  all.  I  hope 
no  boy  will  scorn  my  young  hero  when  I  confess  that  the 
two  brothers,  holding  each  other  very  closely,  cried  as  they 
had  not  cried  since  that  August  morning  long  ago. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
LOST  FAVOR. 

THE  gas  was  already  lighted  in  Dr.  Field's  library  when 
Brooks  and  his  captive  reached  the  Fifth  Avenue.  On  the 
way  ho7iie  Deariug  had  not  condescended  to  discuss  the 
matter  with  his  companion,  and  if  he  dreaded  to  encount- 
er Mrs.  Thomason  and  the  Doctor,  he  betrayed  no  such 
fears  to  Brooks  himself. 

On  reaching  the  hall  door  the  boy  sprang  upstairs  with- 
outaword  to  the  man,  and  burst  into  the  library,  ready  to 
tell  his  story,  and  if  possible  to  clear  Dick  Devine  of  all 
blame. 

Mrs.  Thomason  was  seated  at  one  side  of  the  fire,  look- 
in  ir  as  only  she  could  look  when  she  was  going  to  pro- 
nounce sentence  of  doom.  The  Doctor  was  by  his  study 
table,  apparently  reading,  although  he  had  not  turned  a 
page  in  half  an  hour. 

Just  before  Dick  appeared,  Mrs.  Thomason  had  been 
saying  in  her  iciest  tones :  "Something  must  be  done  with 
that  boy,  father.  He  is  perfectly  incorrigible.  I  can  not 
tell  you  half  the  mischief  he  has  done  since  he  has  been 
in  the  house,  and  now  picking  up  with  this  low  boy!  I 
don't  doubt  he's  taught  him  pocket-picking." 

Poor  Dr.  Field  rubbed  his  forehead  with  his  hand,  and 
looked  very  unhappy.  He  knew  well  enough  that  he  was 
overpartial  to  Dick,  and  for  that  reason  felt  it  right  to 
yield  more  decidedly  to  his  daughter's  government  and 
ideas  concerning  the  boy,  and  he  did  above  all  things 
dread  for  him  evil  associations.  Naturally  enough  Dick 
Devine,  living  in  an  attic  in  a  down-town  street,  was,  to 
the  Doctor's  mind,  like  any  other  common  vagrant  boy. 
He  had  never  asked  about  Devine  or  his  family,  and  we 
know  the  lad  himself  had  tried  to  keep  his  history  and 
Norry  out  of  every  one's  knowledge.  Therefore  Dr.  Field 
could  not  be  supposed  to  know  how  carefully  the  poor 
dead  mother  had  reared  her  children;  and  in  fact  I  think 
it  was  wrong  for  Dick  Dearing  to  have  made  his  visits  in 
the  way  he  did.  Perhaps  he  felt  instinctively  that  Dick  De- 
vine  was  not  like  other  common  boys;  yet  he  had  no  right 
to  form  any  acquaintance  without  consulting  his  elders. 

"AYhen  we  remember  his  father's  recklessness,"  Mrs. 
Thomason  went  on,  "  we  have  all  the  more  to  fear." 

Dr.  Field  winced. 


SEPTEMBER  11,  1SS3. 


HAIIPEH'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


711 


"You  know  how  often  and  often  you  said  that  poor 
Richard's  troubles  all  came  from  his  getting  into  low  com- 
pany. His  tastes  were  always  so  extraordinary.  Do  you 
remember  that  wretched  German  violinist  he  picked  up  ;" 

Mrs.  Thomason  was  going  on  in  a  higher  key.  but  her 
father  suddenly  held  up  his  hand  and  silenced  her. 

"There,  Julia,  "he  said,  looking  pained  :  "  don't  go  over 
the  past.  Whatever  poor  Rick's  faults  were,  he  is  gone."' 

"But  he  has  left  us  a  son  who  may  inherit  his  worst 
faults.  Surely  we  owe  it  to  our  poor  Mary  to  bring  him 
up  so  that  he  shall  not  disgrace  her  memory." 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  burst  open  by  the  culprit 
himself. 

Cast  iron  could  scarcely  have  been  harder  than  Aunt 
Julia's  face  as  Master  Dick  appeared.  He  well  knew 
what  it  meant  when  she  folded  her  hands  over  each  other 
with  the  knuckle  joints  so  prominently  in  view. 

"  11"<7/ .'"  she  ejaculated. 

"  Dick,"  said  the  Doctor,  in  the  sternest  tone  lie  could 
assume,  "I  am  ashamed  of  your  conduct,  sir."  Aunt 
.lulia's  steely  eye  was  upon  her  father,  and  he  dared  not 
falter.  "You  know  that  you  are  expressly  forbidden  to 
make  any  acquaintances  in  town  without  my  permission  - 
or — your  aunt's ;  and  yet  I  am  told  that  you  have  picked  up 
a  low  boy  who  lives  in  an  attic  in  a  low  street,  and  actu- 
ally made  &  friend  of  him,  and  run  away  to  go  and  see 
him.  Is  not  this  true  '. " 

Brooks  was  standing  within  the  door  by  this  time,  look- 
ing so  anxious  to  speak  that  Aunt  Julia  said,  "What  is 
it,  Brooks  Z" 

"It  was  a  most  disgraceful  sight,  ma'am — sir!''  lie  said, 
with  his  august  nose  very  much  in  the  air.  "  \Yhen  I 
got  there  I  found  'em  fighting  and  going  on  like  wild  In- 
.jins;  and  such  a  low.  dirty  place!  and  Master  Dick's  heels 
in  the  air,  sir,  and  that  low  boy  a-turning  himself  into  a 
sort  of  jumping-jack,  if  I  might  so  call  it,  ma'am;  a  most 
disgraceful  rioting  sight  it  was,  sir!" 

"  It's  not  so!"  cried  Dick,  flashing  around  upon  Brooks, 
who  smiled  scornfully  upon  the  heated  boyish  face. 
"Grandfather,  it  is  true  that  I've  made  a  friend  of  Dick 
Devine,  and  he's  a  poor  boy  in  an  attic,  but  he's  honest, 
and  not  a  bit  rougher  than  any  of  the  fellows  at  Barna- 
bas; and  we  weren't  fighting.  He  was  teaching  me  somer- 
saults." 

Here  Aunt  Julia  interrupted,  with  a  horrilied  scream: 

"  Father,  do  you  hear  ?  do  you  hear  ?  He  owns  to  this 
himself.  He'll  be  running  oft'  with  a  circus  next.  Oh, 
father,  do  not  be  weak  and  blind!" 

Brooks  regarded  Mrs.  Thomason  with  an  air  of  most 
admiring  compassion.  Poor  Dr.  Field  found  it  hard  to 
know  what  to  say.  He  felt,  and  no  one  more  keenly, 
that  Dick  must  be  taught  to  make  no  friends  unknown  to 
him,  and  particularly  among  a  low  class,  yet  something 
in  the  honest  fearlessness  of  the  boy's  tone  touched  him. 
Perhaps  if  Aunt  Julia  had  not  called  up  a  vision  of  the 
reckless  father  who  had  broken  his  daughter's  tender 
heart  he  might  have  relented  so  far  as  to  investigate  the 
character  of  the  Devines.  but  he  knew  what  he  had  to 
dread  if  Richard  Bearing's  son  were  to  revive  any  of  his 
father's  folly. 

[TO    BK    CONTINUED.] 


A   VISIT  TO  THE  QUEEN  OF  BURMAH. 

MRS.  KOWETT,  an  English  lady  who  was  travelling 
with  her  husband  in  Burmah,  received  from  the 
Queen  of  that  country  an  invitation  to  pay  her  Majesty  a 
morning  visit.  Invitations  from  royal  personages  are 
very  much  like  commands,  and  the  lady,  though  she  felt 
a.  little  timid  about  venturing  within  the  palace  walls,  at 
once  decided  to  go.  Her  husband  could  accompany  her 


only  to  the  gate,  as  no  men  were  allowed  to  enter  the 
presence  of  the  Queen. 

She  was  not  obliged  to  go  entirely  by  herself,  however, 
as  Sister  Teresa,  the  Superior  of  a  convent  in  Mandalay, 
who  had  been  the  Queen's  teacher  in  her  childhood,  kind 
ly  offered  to  present  her. 

According  to  custom,  the  lady  provided  herself  with  a 
gift  for  the  Queen,  tilling  a  tray  with  the  most  beautiful 
articles  in  glass  and  china  and  delicate  perfumes  which 
she  could  obtain  in  the  shops  of  Mandalay. 

At  7  A.M.  Mrs.  Rowett,  luxuriously  seated  in  a  rattan 
chair  carried  by  coolies,  set  out  oil  her  way  to  the  palace, 
accompanied  by  Sister  Teresa  and  one  of  her  nuns  in  a, 
bullock  carriage,  and  by  her  husband  on  his  pony.  The 
hilly  roads  were  shaded  by  many  trees,  and  the  procession 
wound  along  through  masses  of  flowers  ill  brilliant 
bloom. 

A  half-hour's  ride  brought  them  to  a  high  wall  of  red 
brick  inclosing  an  area  a  mile  and  a  half  square.  This 
wall  surrounded  the  city  of  Mandalay.  Passing  through 
a  great  gateway,  they  found  themselves  in  a  crowded 
town,  and  a  few  more  steps  brought  them  to  another  thick 
and  lofty  wall,  within  which  was  the  palace.  Here  the 
gentleman  took  his  leave,  and  the  ladies  went  in. 

Though  the  sun  was  very  hot.  etiquette  compelled  them 
to  close  their  umbrellas  when  inside  the  palace  inelosure, 
but  as  the  lady  had  on  a  thick  hat  made  of  pith,  she  did 
not  suffer  from  the  heat. 

The  royal  guards  were  a  droll-looking  set,  some  clothed 
and  some  half  naked,  but  adorned  with  shiny  red  helmets, 
and  armed  with  harmless  old  muskets,  and  brandishing 
cruel-looking  spears  of  great  length. 

It  was  not  enough  to  close  umbrellas,  but  shoes  also 
were  forbidden  in  the  Queen's  presence ;  so  when  the 
house  itself  was  reached,  the  ladies  had  to  stop  and  take 
them  off.  Mrs.  Rowett  had  prudently  put  on  several 
pairs  of  stockings,  so  she  walked  over  the  passages  very 
comfortably. 

What  was  her  surprise  and  delight  to  be  greeted  in  this 
strange  place,  by  a  cheerful  English  voice,  with  a  pleasant 
"Good-morning!"  The  owner  of  the  voice  turned  out  to 
be  an  English  nurse  who  was  in  regular  attendance  on 
the  Queen.  This  lady  took  Mrs.  Rowett  to  rest  awhile  in 
her  chamber,  where  she  showed  her  quantities  of  silks  and 
velvets  which  her  mistress  had  given  her.  She  was  bare- 
footed, of  course,  but  was  richly  dressed,  and  blazing  with 
diamonds.  Costly  ear-rings,  pins,  and  bracelets  are  worn 
by  Oriental  women,  and  this  nurse  had  adopted  the  fash- 
ion. She  was  in  high  favor,  and  the  Queen  loaded  her 
with  jewels. 

By-and-by  there  came  a  summons  to  the  throne-room, 
where  the  foreigner  was  met  by  a  number  of  princesses 
and  maids  of  honor,  who  chatted  with  her  freely,  the  Sis- 
ter acting  as  interpreter.  These  ladies  were  dressed  in 
the  Burmese  costume.  First  there  was  the  tamein.  or 
skirt,  very  tight  around  the  hips,  but  flowing  freely  at  the 
feet  and  trailing  slightly.  These  skirts  were  of  the  rich- 
est silk,  in  gorgeous  colors  and  rich  designs.  A  loose 
jacket  of  fine  white  cambric,  open  in  front  to  display  a 
bright  silk  band  which  reached  from  the  waist  to  the  arm- 
pits like  a  sash,  and  the  simple  dress  was  complete.  The 
effect  was  that  of  a  square  bodice,  and  the  necks  of  these 
ladies  were  almost  covered  with  chains  of  pearls,  rubies, 
and  diamonds.  The  jackets  had  close  sleeves,  heavily  em- 
broidered, and  so  tight  that  they  had  to  be  worked  over 
the  hand  like  kid  gloves. 

The  princesses  wore  their  hair  in  thick  coils,  low  at  the 
back  of  the  neck,  and  their  heads  were  ornamented  with 
(lowers. 

The  room  in  which  Mrs.  Rowett  awaited  the  Queen  wa; 
a  wonder  of  beauty.  It  was  very  large,  and  the  lofty  ceil- 
ing was  supported  by  massive  pillars  overlaid  with  the 
purest  gold.  All  the  walls  and  doors  were  covered  with 


712 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


gilded  lattice-work.  Mirrors  were  placed  everywhere,  and 
the  floor  was  carpeted  with  the  thickest  and  softest  of  vel- 
vety rugs. 

Two  hours  passed  slowly  by,  and  then  a  slight  stir  or 
hubbub  proclaimed  that  her  golden-footed  Majesty  was 
coming. 

Instantly  the  ladies  of  the  court  put  themselves  into  a 
position  of  reverence,  prostrating  themselves  and  folding 
their  hands  far  in  front  of  them,  as  if  in  prayer. 

The  young  and  pretty  Queen,  only  twenty-one  years 
old,  was  as  shy  as  a  school-girl.  She  seated  herself  on  a 
cushion  of  purple  velvet  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  puffed 
away  at  a  large  cheroot,  and  asked  after  her  guest's  health, 
and  how  old  she  was.  A  maid  of  honor  then  handed  the 
visitor  a  golden  cup  and  a  splendid  piece  of  silk,  presents 
from  the  Queen. 

Then  Mrs.  Rowett  inquired  if  she  might  see  the  l>;il>y. 
but  the  little  princess  was  asleep,  and  her  mamma  did  not 
wish  her  to  be  disturbed. 

Soon  after  this  the  Queen,  who  noticed  that  the  Euro- 


pean lady  was  growing  very  tired  of  sitting  with  her  feet 
tucked  up  under  her  petticoats,  brought  the  interview  to 
an  end  by  herself  rising  and  leaving  the  room. 

The  audience  being  over.  Sister  Teresa  escorted  Mrs. 
Rowett  into  several  of  the  finer  apartments  of  the  palace, 
where  she  saw  many  of  the  royal  treasures,  among  them 
some  wonderful  specimens  of  carving  in  wood,  and  some 
elegant  silks  woven  by  hand. 

At  the  outer  gate  the  husband  was  waiting  with  his 
coolies  and  the  lady's  chair,  and  she  was  carried  back 
through  the  streets  of  Mandalay.  which  were  all  brilliant 
with  roses  and  gilding. 

A  religious  festival  was  in  progress,  and  there  were  pro- 
cessions, in  which  golden  umbrellas  swayed  aloft,  gran- 
decs  were  perched  on  the  barks  of  elephants,  and  people 
were  arrayed  in  the  brightest-hued  silks. 

All  the  women  wore  wreaths  of  flowers;  and  as  the 
English  party  embarked  on  their  steamer  for  Rangoon, 
the  last  thing  they  saw  was  the  flashing  to  and  fro  of 
golden  boats  over  the  deep  blue  water. 


THE  LITTLE  MESSENGER  OF  LOVE. 

BY  LOUIE  BRINE. 

*  5j|R'iJ3''s£i»«£J  a  little  sermon  preached  to  me 

^        By  a  sweet,  unconscious  child — 
A  baby  girl  scarce  four  years  old, 

With  blue  eyes  soft  and  mild. 
It  happened  oil  a  rainy  day; 

I,  seated  in  a  car, 
Was  thinking,  as  I  neaved  my  home, 

Of  the  continual  jar 
And  discord  that  pervade  the  air 

Of  busy  city  life, 
Each  caring  but  fur  "number  one," 

Self-gain  provoking  strife. 
The  gloomy  weather  seemed  to  cast 

On  every  face  a  shade, 
But  on  one  countenance  were  lines 

By  sorrow  deeply  laid. 
With  low-bowed  head  and  hands  clasped  close, 

She  sat.  so  poor  and  old. 
Nor  seemed  to  heed  the  scornful  glance 

From  eyes  unkind  and  cold. 
I  looked  again.     Oh.  sweet  indeed 

The  sight  that  met  my  eye-.' 
Sitting  upon   her  mother's  lap. 

With  baby  face  so  wise, 
Was  a  wee  child  with  sunny  curls. 

Blue  eyes,  and  dimpled  chin. 
And  a  young,  pure,  and   loving  heart 

Unstained  as  yet    by  sin. 
Upon  the  woman   poor  and  sad 

Her  eyes  in   wonder  fell. 
Till  wonder  changed  to  pilvins;  love. 

Her  thoughts,  oh.  who  could  tell? 
Her  tiny  hands  four  roses  held; 

She  looked  them  o'er  and  o'er, 
Then  choosing  out  the  laruest  one. 

She  struggled  to  the  floor. 
Across  the  swaying  ear  she  went 

Straight  to  the  woman's  side. 
And  putting  iu  the  wrinkled  hand 

The  rove   .,1,,.  ran  to  hide 
Her  little  face  in  mother's  lap, 

Fearing  she  had  done  wrong, 
Not  knowing,  baby  as  she  was, 

That  she  had  helped  along 
The  up-hill  road  of  life  a  soul 

Cast  down,  discouraged  quite. 
As  on  the  woman's  face  there  broke 

A  flood  of  joyous  light. 

Dear  little  child!  she  was  indeed 

A  messenger  of  love 
Sent  to  that  woman's  lonely  heart 

From  the  great    Heart   above. 
This  world  would  be  a  different  place 

Were  each  to  give  to  those 
Whose  hearts  are  sad  as  much  of  love 

As  went  with  babv's  rose. 


SEPTEMBER  11,  188S. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


713 


"DON'T    SCOLD,  HENNY-PENNY ;    TOUR    CHICKIES    ARE   DUCKLINGS.   AND    LIKE    WATER.' 


7U 


IIAKPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SOAP-BUBBLE  SECRETS. 

BY  THE  REV.  C.  G.  CHILD. 

PROBABLY  there  is  not  a  reader  of  YOUNI;  PEOPLE 
who  has  not  at  some  time  amused  himself  with  a 
pipe  and  a  bowl  of  soap-suds.  Few,  however,  know  all 
that  a  bubble  can  afford  in  the  way  of  amusement  at  a 
slight  outlay.  Does  my  reader  know  how  to  make  a 
giant  bubble  ?  has  he  learned  how  to  employ  soap-bub- 
bles as  magic-lantern  slides  '!  did  he  ever  see  them  used 
as  parlor  ornaments  ?  or  is  a  soap-bubble  in  harness  an 
every-da  v  tiling  with  him  ?  If  not,  he  will  find  these  uses 
of  the  bubble  described  in  the  present  article,  and  I  would 
add  that  the  experiments  will  prove  interesting  and  beau- 
tiful to  old  as  well  as  young. 

We  must  Jirst  learn  how  to  make  the  giant  bubble. 
This  is  the  king  of  bubble.-,,  the  largest,  the  longest-lived. 
and  the  most  beautiful.  If  you  can  imagine  a  bubble  two 
or  even  three  feet  in  diameter,  with  an  existence  measured 
by  hours  instead  of  seconds,  glowing  with  colors  five 
times  as  gorgeous  as  those  of  the  ordinary  bubble,  you 
have  just  such  a  one  in  your  mind's  eye  as  you  can  make 
for  yourself  by  carefully  following  directions. 

Procure  two  ounces  of  palm-oil  orCasi  i  lc  si  >ap :  the  former 
is  preferable.  Cut  it  in  pieces  the  size  of  a  pea.  and  place 
them  in  a  bottle  of  clear  glass  with  a  pint  of  rain-water. 
Shake  violently  until  the  water  has  taken  up  as  much 
soap  as  it  will  hold.  You  have  now  what  is  called  a  sat- 
urated solution  of  soap.  Place  it  aside,  and  leave  it  from 
twenty-four  to  thirty-six  hours,  until  it  has  settled,  either 
perfectly  clear  or  of  a  very  light  pearl-color.  If,  after 
thirty-six  hours,  the  solution  still  remains  clouded,  pour  off' 
a  little  of  the  water  and  add  more.  This  time,  it  will 
scarcely  fail  to  settle  as  desired.  Carefully  pour  off, 
straining  through  flannel,  add  half  a  pint  of  pure  gly- 
cerine, and  when  the  two  have  had  time  to  mingle  thor- 
oughly, you  are  ready  to  blow  a  giant  bubble. 

To  blow  the  very  largest  bubbles  it  is  necessary  to  have 
a  larger,  pipe  than  the  clay  pipe  commonly  used,  though 
such  a  pipe  will  produce  large  bubbles.  A  glass  funnel 
two  or  three  inches  in  diameter,  fitted  with  apiece  of  rub- 
ber tubing,  produces  enormous  bubbles.  There  is  a  very 
ingenious  apparatus  used,  which  admits  of  putting  the 
linger  within  the  pipe  itself.  By  this  means  fresh  soap  so- 
lution may  be  smeared  within  the  pipe,  affording  renewed 
nourishment  to  the  bubble,  and  enabling  the  experiment- 
er to  blow  it  to  an  incredible  si/,e. 

These  bubbles  are  distinguished  not  only  for  their  size, 
but  for  their  beauty  and  durability.  I  have  known  bub- 
bles made  by  this  method  to  last  two  or  three  hours  in  the 
open  air,  and  from  twenty-four  to  thirty-six  under  glass, 
precaution  being  taken  that  the  air  of  the  room  be  pure. 
and  that  no  rough  touch  destroy  their  fragile  lives.  But 
now  let  us  find  out  how  we  may  examine  the  bubble  wilh 
the  great  'st  ease  and  to  the  best  advantage. 

Procure  a  piece  of  pine  board  about  three  inches  square. 
In  the  middle  of  this  tix  a  piece  of  iron  wire,  free  from 
rust,  twenty  inches  in  length.  At  about  six  inches'  dis- 
tance from  the  board  bend  the  wire  into  a  circle,  the  plane 
of  which  is  parallel  with  that  of  the  board,  and  with  a  di- 
ameter of  live  inches.  Blow  a  bubble  of  six  or  seven 
inches  diameter,  and  gently  place  it  in  the  ring;  it  will 
not  break,  and  by  tilting  the  pipe  you  may  free  it  from 
the  bubble.  Thus  placed  the  bubble  shows  off  the  colors 
In  ureat  advantage;  for,  as  has  been  said,  the  glycerine 
bubble  will  last  for  hours,  unlike  the  ordinary  one,  as 
fragile  as  it  is  lovely.  Three  or  four  bubbles  of  various 
sixes,  placed  under  glass  on  such  standards,  form  a 
beautiful  object  for  a  drawing-room,  especially  if  their 
colors  are  seen  against  a  background  of  some  black  ma- 
terial. 

Next  as  to  employing  soap-bubbles,  or.  more  correctly. 


soap  tilms.  asjn agio-lantern  slides.  Those  who  do  not  pos- 
sess a  magic  lantern  may  try  the  experiment,  though  to 
less  advantage,  in  the  following  way:  Dip  the  mouth  of 
a  tumbler  lightly  in  the  soap  solution,  raise  it  gently,  and 
a  soap  film  will  remain  stretched  across  the  mouth.  Hold 
the  tumbler  horizontally,  and  the  same  beautiful  effects 
of  color  may  be  seen  on  the  film  as  are  thrown  on  tin- 
wall  when  the  magic  lantern  is  used.  For  a  magic  lan- 
tern, go  to  work  as  follows: 

Take  a  slip  of  card-board,  the  same  size  as  one  of  your 
slides,  and  in  it  cut  a  circular  hole,  proportional  in  diam- 
eter to  the  width  of  the  slide.  Pour  some  of  the  solution 
into  a  shallow  dish,  and  dip  the  slide  into  it.  Raise  it 
gently,  and  a  film  will  be  left  in  the  hole.  Slip  the  slide 
with  care  into  the  lantern,  and  await  results.  For  a  mo- 
ment the  circle  of  light  on  the  wall  remains  clear,  but  soon 

f  at  the  bottom  a  faint  tinge  of  color  appears,  growing' 
stronger  and  stronger,  and  moving  upward.  It  settles  into 
a  band  of  color  at  last,  still  moving  steadily  upward,  and 

I  succeeded  by  another  band  of  another  tint,  which  follows 
it,  and  so  on.  until  the  great  circle  on  the  wall  is  gorgeous 
with  the  same  beautiful  hues  as  appear  on  the  bubble,  but 
not  stirring  uneasily  together  as  these  seem,  but  in  regular 
bands  ever  moving  upward.  Now  jar  the  slide  gently,  and. 
presto! — the  bands  break  and  whirl  together  in  an  aston- 
ishing maze  of  color,  wonderful  in  beauty.  This  is  real- 

|  ly  one  of  the  most  beautiful  experiments  imaginable,  and 
will  never  fail  to  call  forth  hearty  admiral  inn. 

Now  for  an  exceedingly  amusing  experiment — the  har- 
nessed soap-bubble.  Take  a  piece  of  the  thinnest  writing- 
paper  you  can  find,  and  from  it  cut  a  circular  piece  a  little 
less  than  a  dime  in  size.  To  one  end  of  this  attach  a  thread 
by  the  aid  of  a  tiny  drop  of  sealing-wax— the  less  the  bet 
ter.  Blow  the  bubble  to  an  ordinary  six.e.  and  then  touch 
the  round  piece  to  it  gently.  The  bubble  will  adhere  to  it. 
and  by  gently  tipping  the  pipe  you  may  leave  the  bubble 
suspended  by  the  string. 

A  bubble  blown  from  the  mouth  sinks,  but  if  the  pipe 
is  attached  by  a  piece  of  rubber  tubing  to  a  gas  fixture, 
the  bubble  then  blown  being  filled  with  a  gas  lighter  than 
air  will  be  carried  upward  as  far  as  rhe  string  will  allow. 
Thus  you  have  a  veritable  balloon,  and  if  just  sufficient 
string  is  allowed  to  keep  it  balanced  midway  between  floor 
and  ceiling,  it  will  perform  very  curious  antics.  Those 

j  currents  of  air  which  exist  in  every  room,  unfelt  by  the 
inmates,  are  strong  draughts  lo  the  fragile  and  delicate 
bubble.  It  wilj  follow  these  currents,  now  visiting  the 
ceiling,  now  running  along  the  floor,  and  escaping  as  if 
by  a  miracle  the  obstacles  in  its  path.  If  there  is  a  lamp 
»r  gas  jet:  in  the  room  it  will  be  gradually  attracted  to- 
ward it,  and.  carried  by  the  upward  current  of  hot  air. 
will  dash  toward  the  ceiling,  as  if  bent  on  committing 
suicide.  But  bounding  on  the  cushion  of  dead  air.  which 
always  lies  on  the  surface  of  every  solid  object,  it  bends 
at  right  angles,  and  darts  off.  escaping  as  if  by  some  in- 
ward power  the  fate  into  which  it  was  apparently  plun- 
ging headlong,  and  again  circles  round  the  room,  till 
drawn  a  second  time  into  the  current  of  hot  air. 

The  ingenious  reader  will  be  able  to  work  up  the  hints 
above  given  into  a  variety  of  amusing  and  beautiful  ex- 
periments. The  last,  described  will  perhaps  afford  most 
amusement  in  various  ways,  which  will  readily  occur  to 
his  mind  while  using  the  novel  toy.  The  true  secret  of 
success  in  these  experiments,  as  in  everything,  is  careful  - 

j  ness.      If  the  soap  solution  is  prepared  with  care,  there  is 

I  no  reason  why  the  reader  should  not  be  entirely  success- 
ful in  the  experiments  that  follow-. 

Bubbles  are  most  curious  and  lovely  things.  There  is 
neither  time  nor  space  to  go  into  their  connection  with 
science,  and  the  deep  natural  truths  which  they  are  used 
to  prove.  The  reader  can  at  least  admire  their  gorgeous 
coloring  and  air\  grace,  and  find  a  moral  in  their  short 
but  lovelv  lives. 


SEPTEMBER  11,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


715 


SOAP-BUBBLES. 

BY    ELEANOR    A.  1IUNTEK. 

BF.KTIK.  the  mischief.  Kilty,  and  Fan. 
Two  little  maids  and  one  little  man, 

In  gimiham  aprons  from  toe  to  chill 
Siiunly  anil  co/.ily  buttoned  in, 

Sil   by  the  table  all  in  a  row. 

\Yith  pipes  and  bowls  as  white  :is  tlie  snow. 

Six  pink  cheeks  that   are  rounder  growing 
Look  like-  cherubs  a  trumpet  blowing. 

Warm  and  as  soft   as  velvet   each   i>, 
And  as  sweet   as  a  ham--t    peach   i-. 

Bubblety-bubblc,  blow  and  blow: 

That   is 'the  way  the  soap-bubbles  gnm. 

Larger  and  larger.     Toss  it   away — 
A  little  round  world  with   colors  gay. 

Lightly   it    floats   through    Ihe  air  o'crhead 
In   rainbow   purple,  orange,  and   red. 
Then   vanishes;    fur.  you  see.  the  worsl 
Of  soap-bubbles  is  the  way   they   burst — 

Hurst    in  the  air.  on   the  walls,  the  floor 
But  never  mind,  darlings;   make  >ome  more. 


AUTHOK  or 


CAPTAIN    KIDD'S   MtiNKV. 

BV  THOMAS  W.  KXOX, 

"THE  YoUNt!  NlMRODS,"  "  BOY   TRAVEL!.  Kits   IN    Till; 

K  \ST."    h  K 


ALONG  the  coast  of  New  England,  or  that  part  of  it 
east  of  Boston,  there  were  formerly  many  traditions 
about  treasure  buried  by  Captain  Kidd  and  other  free- 
booters of  his  time.  The  spots  where  the  treasures  wen1 
buried  were  usually  revealed  in  dreams;  the  happy  dream 
er  conlided  the  secret  to  a  friend  or  two,  and  they  arranged 
to  secure  it  whenever  the  time  should  he  favorable.  But 
it  always  happened  that  something  went  wrong-,  and  the 
treasure  vanished  from  sight  or  touch  generally  at  the 
moment  when  it  was  just  within  grasp. 

One  of  my  neighbors  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  ex- 
istence of  the  hidden  wealth  of  the  pirates.  He  often 
dreamed  where  it  was  to  be  found,  and  on  several  occa- 
sions he  devoted  an  entire  night  to  digging.  Once  he  took 
me  into  his  confidence,  and  told  how  I  could  become  the 
possessor  of  "  Kidd's  money,"  provided  I  would  follow 
certain  rules,  in  which  he  believed  thoroughly. 

"First  off,"  said  he,  "you  must  dream  where  the  money 
is,  and  be  able  to  find  the  spot  you  dream  about.  Then,  if 
you've  got  the  nerve  to  go  alone,  you  have  a  better  chance 
of  getting  the  money,  as  there  won't  be  so  much  likeli- 
hood that  anybody  '11  break  the  spell.'' 

I  asked  what  he  meant  by  the  suggestion,  and  he  ex- 
plained as  follows: 

"All  this  money  of  Kidd  and  the  other  pirates  is  guard- 
ed by  spirits,  and  if  you  break  the  spell  you  can't  get  it. 
In  the  tirst  place,  you  must  dig  on  a  night  when  there 
isn't  any  moon;  the  moonlight  is  part  of  the  spell,  and  no 
money  can  be  got  when  it  is  shining.  Then  when  you've 
begun  to  dig  you  mustn't  speak;  if  you  do,  the  treasure 
sinks  down,  and  you  are  thrown  out  of  the  place  with 
your  eyes  full  of  dirt.  The  spirits  watch  the  money,  and 
if  you  don't  open  your  mouth  you'll  get  it  —  if  it's  there.  " 

I  was  somewhat  doubtful  about  the  matter,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  convince  me  of  the  correctness  of  what  he  had 
told  me. 

"About  two  years  ago,"  he  continued,  "I  dreamed  three 
or  four  nights  running  where  there  was  a  chest  full  of 
Kidd's  money,  about  half  a  mile  back  of  Foster's  Cove. 
The  spot  was  shown  so  clear  that  I  went  and  picked  it 
out,  and  then  I  told  Sam  Fowler  about  it,  and  he  agreed 
to  go  and  dig  with  me,  and  share  the  money.  I  marked 
the  place  with  a  stake  so  as  to  find  it  in  the  night,  and  one 
night  when  there  wasn't  any  moon,  and  the  clouds  made 
it  almost  pitch-dark,  we  went  there  and  dug.  We  hadn't 


thrown  up  a  dozen  shovelfuls  when  the  air  was  full  of 
hissing  noises,  and  there  were  voices  calling  us  all  sorts 
of  names.  We  kept  on  without  saying  a  word,  and  soon 
we  hit  the  top  of  a  chest,  or,  anyway,  something  that 
sounded  hollow.  When  we  .struck  it  there  was  more 
noise  than  ever,  and  the  spirits  not  only  made  a  tremen- 
dous racket,  but  kept  knocking  us  from  side  to  side. 
We'd  got  the  top  of  the  chest  almost  uncovered,  as  well 
as  we  could  make  out  in  the  dark,  and  I  was  just  laying 
down  my  shovel,  and  reaching  for  the  pickaxe  to  bust  it 
in,  when  I  was  knocked  clean  from  one  side  of  the  hole 
to  the  other.  I  forgot  .myself,  and  hollered  out,  and  in 
less  than  a  second  we  were  sprawling  on  the  ground  out- 
side, the  hole  was  all  lilled  up,  and  the  chest  gone,  and 
when  I  felt  round  for  the  stake  I  couldn't  find  it.  We 
went  home  feeling  mean  enough.  Next  day  I  went  back 
and  looked  at  the  place,  and  there  wasn't  a  sign  of  the 
stake  nor  of  our  digging,  and  the  whole  spot  was  so 
changed  that  it  wasn't  like  what  I  saw  in  my  dream.'' 

This  story  and  others  like  it  had  such  an  effect  oil  my 
mind  that  I  too  dreamed  of  Kidd's  treasures.  The  dream 
was  repeated,  and  I  had  no  ditliculty  in  discovering  the 
spot.  It  was  certainly  a  good  one  for  the  purpose — about 
ten  yards  to  the  north  of  a  large,  stump  on  the  edge  of  a 
bit  of  woodland,  and  just  such  a  place  as  an  intelligent, 
pirate  ought  to  select. 

I  "hadn't  the  nerve''  to  go  there  alone  on  a  moonless 
night  to  recover  the  treasure;  besides,  I  wasn't  greedy,  and 
had  a  decided  willingness  under  the  circumstances  to 
share  my  future  wealth  with  others.  Under  a  pledge  of 
secrecy,  I  confided  the  story  to  two  of  my  school-mates; 
one  consented  to  join  in  the  enterprise,  but  the  other  de- 
clared a  decided  dislike  for  it,  and  refused  to  go.  As  I 
had  secured  one  companion,  I  was  indifferent  to  his  objec- 
tions, and  continued  with  my  plans. 

I  marked  the  spot  with  two  stakes  about  four  feet  apart, 
and  it  was  arranged  that  we  should  dig  between  the  stakes. 
We  selected  a  night  when  there  was  no  moon,  and  settled 
upon  a  place  where  we  were  to  meet.  During  the  day  pre- 
ceding the  great  occasion  we  conveyed  two  shovels  and 
a  pickaxe  to  the  meeting-place,  and  also  an  empty  meal 
sack  iii  which  to  bring  away  the  money. 

We  went  to  bed  at  the  usual  hour,  and  then  escaped 
by  the  back  windows  to  proceed  on  our  search  for  wealth. 
My  companion,  Charley,  slept  on  the  ground-floor  of  his 
father's  house,  and  therefore  had  less  difficulty  than  I  in 
getting  out,  as  my  bed  was  on  the  second  story.  But  with 
i  the  aid  of  a  short  rope,  and  two  or  three  nails  in  the  side 
of  the  house,  I  was  quickly  and  noiselessly  on  the  ground. 
and  able  to  get  back  again  by  the  same  means. 

Charley  had  been  waiting  a  few  minutes  when  I  reach- 
ed our  rendezvous.     We  hastily  secured  our  tools,   not 
forgetting  the  bag,  and   proceeded,  with   some  unstead- 
iness of  step,  to  the  treasure  ground.      The  truth  is  that 
just  then  I  did  not  altogether  like  the  affair,  and  no  more 
j  did  Charley;  but  neither  was  willing  to  back  out,  and  so 
i  we  went  on.      The  night  was  cloudy,  but  without  rain, 
I  and  we  could  see  only  a  short  distance  around  us.      We 
knew  well  enough  how  to  find  the  old  stump,  and  once  at 
it,  there   was   no  trouble  in  finding  my  stakes.      It  was 
agreed  that  we  were  not  to  speak  after  reaching  the  stump, 
and  so  the  commencement  of  our  trench-work  was  made 
in  silence. 

The  spirits  did  not  disturb  us  for  the  first  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Just  as  I  was  congratulating  myself  with  the 
thought  that  perhaps  we  had  taken  them  unawares,  and 
might  get  the  money  and  be  off  before  they  found  us,  there 
was  a  loud  hiss  close  to  my  ear.  It  startled  me  a  good 
deal,  and  had  the  same  effect  on  Charley,  as  we  dropped 
our  shovels,  and  struck  our  heads  against  each  other  in 
stooping  to  pick  them  up.  Then  there  were  more  hisses, 
followed  by  m  titterings  and  threats,  of  which  I  could  not 
make  out  anv  intelligible  words.  We  worked  like  bea- 


716 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


AN    UNPLEASANT    SURPRISE. 

vers,  and  kept  perfect  silence  in  spite  of  the  temptation  to 
speak;  as  a  matter  of  precaution  we  had  each  fastened  a 
handkerchief  tightly  across  the  other's  mouth  when  we 
reached  the  stump,  as  we  thought  it  would  be  a  discour- 
agement to  conversation.  It  was  lucky  we  did  so,  as  both 
admitted  afterward  that  we  should  have  been  certain  to 
say  something  when  the  first  hiss  sounded  in  our  ears  if 
the  handkerchief  had  not  stopped  our  utterance. 

The  noises  went  on  for  perhaps  another  quarter  of  an 
hour.  By  this  time  we  had  made  a  hole  more  than  a  yard 
square  and  about  two  feet  deep,  and  I  began  to  feel  we 
ought  to  be  near  the  treasure.  I  had  previously  con- 
cluded that  no  good  and  honest  pirate  would  bury  money 
more  than  three  feet  below  the  surface;  he  would  natural- 
ly think  of  the  difficulty  of  digging  it  up  when  he  came  to 
get  it,  and  would  probably  be  in  a  hurry,  owing  to  the  fear 
of  discovery  by  the  king's  men.  I  thought  I  heard  a  hol- 
low sound  beneath  me.  I  had  been  told  that  when  the 
lid  of  the  chest  was  broken  the  power  of  the  guardian  spir- 
its was  gone,  and  there  was  110  further  danger  of  their  in- 
terference. Determined  to  secure  the  treasure,  I  extended 
my  hand  to  the  spot  where  we  placed  the  pickaxe  when 
we  began  working  with  the  shovels. 

It  was  gone,  and  so  was  the  meal  sack  which  was  to 
•contain  the  money! 

I  turned  to  see  if  Charley  had  taken  it;  he  was  work- 
ing with  his  shovel,  and  paid  no  attention  to  m"y  move- 
ments. As  I  turned  I  was  violently  pushed  across  the 
hole,  and  fell  upon  Charley.  The  bandage  slipped  from 
my  mouth,  and  gave  me  the  opportunity  to  ask,  "  Where's 
the  pickaxe  ?" 

Hardly  had  I  spoken  when  we  were  both  dragged  from 
the  hole,  and  found  ourselves  sprawling  011  the  ground. 
As  we  struggled  to  regain  our  feet  we  were  again  thrown 
down,  and  dragged  for  several  yards.  We  were  held  in 
a  noose  at  the  end  of  a  rope  which  was  controlled  by  in- 
visible hands.  As  we  struggled  to  release  ourselves  from 
the  entanglement,  the  air  was  filled  with  laughter,  and  it 
was  evident  that  my  fatal  question  about  the  pickaxe  had 
broken  the  spell,  and  caused  the  chest  and  its  contents  to 
vanish  from  our  reach. 

We  escaped  from  the  noose,  and  were  just  starting  to 
run  home  as  fast  as  our  legs  would  carry  us,  when  we 
were  seized  and  thrown  to  the  ground  again. 


Then  there  was  more 
laughter  and  more  noise, 
but  to  our  great  relief 
we  found  ourselves  in 
the  hands  of  our  school- 
mates. The  boy  who  de- 
clined to  join  us  in  the 
enterprise  had  induced 
half  a  dozen  others  to  help 
him  play  a  joke  on  us. 
They  were  concealed  near 
the  stump  when  we  reach- 
ed it,  and  by  lying  close 
to  the  ground  had  been 
able  to  see  our  prepara- 
tions through  our  out- 
lines against  the  sky. 
Of  course  when  we  began 
to  dig  we  were  too  intent 
on  our  work  to  notice  that 
they  removed  the  pick- 
axe and  meal  sack,  and 
as  we  had  expected  super- 
natural noises  we  were 
easily  deceived.  They 
placed  the  noose  around 
us  unperceived,  and  it 
was  arranged  that  the 
first  word  uttered  by  ei- 
ther of  us  was  to  be  the  signal  to  "haul  away."  And 
they  did  haul  away  with  a  vengeance. 

It  was  long  before  we  heard  the  last  of  our  adven- 
ture, and  neither  Charley  nor  myself  ever  went  again  in 
search  of  Kidd's  treasures. 


THE  CRECHE. 

BY    M.   E.   SANGSTER. 

T1HE  word  creche  means  cradle.     In  the  beautiful  city 
of  Paris  there  are  a  number  of  creches,  or  day  nurs- 
eries, to  which  babies  are  brought  every  morning,  and 
where  kind  Sisters  of  Charity  take  the  very  best  care  of 
them  while  their  mothers  are  away  at  work. 

These  creches  are  open  at  six  o'clock,  and  the  little  ones 
are  left  for  the  day.  They  have  a  sunny  room  and  plenty 
of  company,  and  they  do  not  hear  a  loud  tone  or  a  cross 
word  from  morning  until  night. 

As  soon  as  their  mothers  are  out  of  sight  the  infants 
are  washed,  dressed  in  clean  clothing,  and  either  laid  in  a 
little  bed  to  go  to  sleep,  or,  if  old  enough,  are  allowed  to 
roll  about  and  creep  as  they  like  on  the  soft  matted  floor. 
The  mothers  come  at  noon  to  visit  the  little  creatures,  and 
then  what  a  lovely  sight!  One  who  visited  the  creche 
says,  "The  infants,  lying  in  their  nests,  hear  the  steps  and 
voices  of  their  mothers  approaching,  and  raise  their  little 
heads  like  so  many  young  birds." 

For  the  privilege  of  having  their  babies 
thus  taken  care  of  the  sum  of  two  cents 
a  day  is  paid  by  women  who  are  able 


SEPTEMBER  11,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


717 


SO    HUNOUY! 


to  spare  it.  Of  course  this  does  not  nearly  meet  the  ex- 
penses that  are  necessary,  and  so  the  rich  and  kind  peo- 
ple of  Paris  pay  a  great  deal  of  money  to  help  the  Sisters 
who  do  tin-  work.  Many  little  children  on  their  birth- 
days or  at  Christinas  send  their  gifts  to  the  cradle,  which 
they  like  to  think  is  theirs.  Often,  when  a  dear  child  has 
been  taken  to  heaven,  its  parents  and  friends  send  presents 
to  the  creche  in  its  name. 

There  is  a  sadder  side  to  the  picture,  however.  In  Paris 
there  is  a  great  Foundling  Hospital,  which  is  intended  for 
little  ones  whose  parents  have  deserted  them.  The  chil- 
dren who  are  shown  you  in  these  pictures  belong  to  the 
creche  of  this  institution.  They  are  all  dressed  alike  in  a 
uniform  of  flannel,  with  a  checked  apron,  and  a  little  white 
muslin  or  else  a  black  woollen  cap.  Of  course  where  there 
are  so  many  babies,  though  the  Sisters  are  as  kind  as  they 
can  be,  yet  each  child  can  not  have  the  care  which  it 
would  receive  in  the  poorest  home.  It  is  washed  aiid  fed. 
and  kept  warm  and  clean  and  comfortable,  but  it  is  not 
kissed,  petted,  and  played  with  as  the  baby  is  at  your  house. 

So  these  babies  learn  to  be  very  patient.  When  they 
are  hungry  they  whimper  and  fret,  but  do  not  cry  very 
loudly;  they  sit  still  in  their  little  chairs,  and  wait  1111 
til  the  nurses  bring  them  their  cups  of  milk  or  broth. 
They  do  not  laugh  and  play  merrily  as  other  little  ones 
do.  The  prettiest  toys,  the  nicest  tarts,  are  dropped  from 
the  listless  hands.  The  fact  is  that  children  can  not 
thrive  and  grow  rosy,  plump,  and  pretty  without  ever  so 
much  love. 


Many  of  these  babies  die  while  still  very  young;  but 
others  pull  through  the  first  feeble  year,  and  are  taught  to 
walk  and  to  wait  on  themselves.  You  see  in  the  first 
picture  the  Sister  who  is  encouraging  them  to  walk  to 
her;  she  smiles  and  says  cheering  words,  when  the  timid 
steps  become  brave. 

As  for  the  sturdy-looking  rogues  who  have  survived 
babyhood,  and  are  old  enough  to  march  to  the  din- 
ing-room, we  think  their  happy  faces  show  that  they 
have  learned  to  laugh.  After  a  while  they  will  go  to 
school,  or  be  taught  some  useful  art  or  trade,  and  perhaps 
when  they  are  men  and  women  they  will  forget  that  they 
were  once  such  forlorn  little  babies. 

Many  of  the  foundlings  are  sent  to  the  country  to  be- 
come the  foster-children  of  strong,  good-hearted  peasant 
women,  who  nurse  them  as  they  do  their  own  little  ones, 
and  are  well  paid  for  their  trouble  arid  care.  These  are  the 
fortunate  babies.  They  are  treated  as  one  of  the  family 
where  they  live;  they  have  brothers  and  sisters  to  play 
with;  and  they  have  the  dogs,  cats,  and  chickens  for  pets. 
When  large  enough,  the  boys  help  in  the  fields  and  the 
girls  in  the  house. 

Sometimes,  too,  the  little  ones  who  have  grown  up  in 
the  asylum  to  the  age  of  three  or  four  years  are  selected 
by  kind  fanners  and  market-women,  and  taken  home  as 
their  own.  Of  course  they  want  the  prettiest  children, 
but  the  Sister  in  charge  chooses  for  them,  and  generally 
uses  so  much  tact  that  the  new  parents  go  home  quite 
proud  and  pleased  with  the  boy  or  girl  they  have  adopted. 


ON    THEIR    WAY    TO    THE    DINING-ROOM. 


718 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG-  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


SKETCHES    AT    DIEPPE. 


No  doubt  some  of  our  little  readers  have  visit- 
ed Dieppe,  and  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  sitting  mi 
the  sands,  where  the  waves  come  rolling  in.  If 
they  have  not,  they  have,  perhaps,  spent  long 
summer  days  on  the  beach  somewhere  in  their 
native  land,  and  they  know  how  delightful  it  is 


to  lie  in  the  shelter  of  a  bluff,  or  sit  on  the  shingle, 
talking  and  telling  stories.  Well.  well,  now  that 
summer  is  over,  and  the  autumn  sun  is  shining. 
Reggie  and  Max  here,  and  the  rest  of  the  children, 
must  begin  to  think  about  school.  I  \v<  Jiidcr  if  that 
is  what  makes  these  laddies  wear  so  pensive  a  look. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

\V  \SII1M-.T"\.I>.  C. 

Tell  Marcia  M.  V.  I  have  a  Manx  cat.  she  is 
just  like  other  cats,  only  there  is  a  lit  tie  bunch  of 
hair  instead  of  a  tail.  The  breed  of  eats  is  called 
Manx  because  it  is  found  in  the  Isle  of  Man.  It 
is  also  called  the  rabbit,  on  account  of  the  length 
of  the  hind-legs,  which  gives  the  cat  a  gait  like 
a  rabbit.  My  cat  has  been  a  great  traveller,  fur 
she  came  from  Northern  Vermont  to  Washing- 
ton in  a  basket,  stopping  at  Lowell  and  Huston, 
a  week  in  each  place.  She  is  very  affectionate, 
and  will  put  her  paws  on  my  face,  and  try  to  pull 
it  down  so  she  can  kiss  me.  I  have  three  sisters, 
and  at  night  she  will  hunt  in  the  bods  win-re  we 
sleep  until  she  finds  me,  and  then  she  will  get 
down  under  tin-  clothes  and  go  to  sleep. 

In  my  aunt's  house  here  in  Washington  there 
is  a  little  dog  that  has  been  greatly  petted.  It 
is  very  funny,  when  he  barks  for  his  food,  t»  see 
her  go  up  to  him  and  give  him  a  good  box  on 
the  ear.  as  if  to  say.  "  It'  no  one  else  will  make 
>  'HI  mind,  I  will"  :  and  she  does.  I  am  very  fi  .ad 
of  all  animals,  but  especially  of  eats,  and  I  was 
delighted  when  the  Humane  Society  pre\  i nted 
a  man  from  experimenting  witli  eats  and  para 
chutes  from  the  dome  of  the  Capitol.  I  have 
taken  YOUM.  PEOPLE  from  the  very  first  number, 
ami  enjoy  it  very  much.  I  am  real  glad  Mrs.  Lil- 
lie  is  going  to  write  another  storj 

» 'II.UILOTTE  P. 


I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  I  have  two 
brothers  and  one  sister,  all  older  than  myself.  I 
have  only  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  since  Christmas. 
«  In  'ii  it  was  given  to  me  by  a  friend,  ami  1  think 
it  is  lovely.  Fi.om.M  i:  A.  W. 

OLD  WK^TBIIIV.  I.i.v.  Ni  \M.. 

I  am  a  little  New  Jersey  girl,  and  am  visiting 
here  for  the  summer.  The  people  with  whom  [ 
am  staying  live  on  a  farm,  so  there  are  plenty  of 
things  for  me  to  amuse  myself  with.  Among  the 
pets  are  two  lilai'k-and-tan  dogs.  Topsy  and  Gyp- 
sy, and  four  cats,  one  of  which  has  four  kittens, 
one  of  the  kittens  has  odd  eyes,  one  brown,  the 
other  blue  ;  another  is  still  more  curious  :  it  has 
three  extra  t<u-s  on  one  of  its  fore-feet,  two  on 
the  other,  ai" .  neon  each  of  its  hind-feet  hick, 
my  canary,  i  .<  d  two  weeks  ago  :  I  feel  very  bad- 
ly  about  ft. 

I  read  Nina  E.'s  letter  to  YOUXG  I'Kori.i:  this 
morning,  and  it  reminded  me  of  a  large  I'ox  of 
scallop  shells  which  I  have,  and  w<  'iild  be  glad  to 
give  if  they  will  be  acceptable 

1  think  "  Nan"  is  the-  best  story  I  have  seen  in 
Yor  N<.  I'l  oi-i.r.  but  inv  lit  tie  brother  Willie  likes 
"Raising  the  '  Pearl'  "best.  EFFIE  E.  H. 

Nina  will  let  you  know  about  the  shells  through 
l  he  Post-office  Box  if  she  would  like  them. 


move  one  leg,  nor  open  one  eye,  and  I  was  all 
blue  in  patches  where  they  said  I  was  bit  by  a 
lot  of  bricks  that  were  just  at  that  moment  fall- 
ing from  our  chimney.  In  a  few  days  the  bricks 
were  in  their  place,  and  I  was  in  mine.  So  good- 
night to  all.  E.  H.  S. 

BEAVKK   [U\T.  Wi*.-ossix. 


BOSTON,  MASSACHI  ^Kirv. 

YOUNI,  PEOPLE  comes  to  me-  every  Wedne-da\ 
morning.  I  think  the  best  stories  were  "Nan" 
and  "In  Honor  Hound."  only  the  latter  was  a 
short  story.  I  think  it  is  fun  to  play  "  Nan."  I 
have  three  dolls,  whose  names  are  Pansy,  I'nidv. 
and  Dotty  Dimple.  I  expect  to  go  to  St.  John  in 
<  letolier  to  stay  a  month.  ALICE  S. 


LITTLE  ROCK,  AKKANKAS. 

Have  yon  room  for  another  boy?  If  you  have 
I  will  write  you  a  short  letter.  I  have  never 
written  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE  before,  but  I  hope  this 
will  be  printed,  for  I  want  to  surprise  my  father 
and  mother.  Hike  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever  so  much. 
ami  so  do  we  all.  I  am  working  in  the  Little 
IJoek  Furniture  Factory  at  present,  but  will  go 
i '  i  sehool  goon,  so  good-by  until  the  next. 

OSCAR  G.  McC. 


MY  WONDERFUL  RIDE. 
When  I  was  a  very  small  boy — that  was  a  long 

time  ago.  for  I'm  seven  now  — I  took  a  rid 

our  old  liorse  Topsy.  I  wanted  her  to  try  a  new 
way  of  ^oing.  but  she  didn't  seem  to  want  to  I  ry 
my  way,  for  my  way  was  to  have  her  gallop  back- 
ward. I  tried  my  best  to  persuade  her.  but  I 
eould  not  change  her  mind,  and  when  I  Irieil  to 
make  hei  shi  kicked,  and  the  next  thing  that  I 
knew  there  were  four  doctors  standing  over  me. 
ami  all  the  family  trying  to  make  the  whole  to wn 
think  I  was  killed.  But  I  wasn't,  only  I  couldn't 


JAMESTOW.V,  NEW  YORK. 

I  am  a  little  girl  just  nine  years  old.  I  have  a 
brother  seven,  and  a  little  sister  four  years  ..Id. 
\Ve  have  taken  this  paper  shree  the  first  number, 
and  have  three  volumes  bound.  \Ve  have  ah\  a\  s 
lived  in  Brooklyn.  New  York,  until  last  March, 
when  we  moved  here.  Our  house  is  on  a  high 
hill,  and  we  have  a  very  fine  view  of  Chautauqua 
Lake.  There  are  some  beautiful  places  on  the 
lake.  The  20th  of  August  was  my  birthday,  and 
mamma  took  us  all  up  to  Lakewood  on  a'  little 
picnic.  Oh,  how  we  enjoyed  it !  There  were  two 
or  three  tents  with  Indians  in  them,  making  fan- 
cy baskets  to  sell.  Mamma  bought  me  one  to  re- 
member our  trip  by.  There  are  two  or  three 
very  large  hotels  and  a  great  many  very  prettv 
COttagi  s.  all  tilled  witli  boarders. 

M  v  brother's  birthday  was  the  23d  of  June.  We. 
went  to  Long  Point  then.  We  liked  that  better 
than  Lakewood,  because  we  could  dig  in  the 
sand,  and  it  reminded  us  of  our  dear  Brighton 
lieach  Mamma  made  us  each  a  liamUonie  large 
birthday  cake.  Some  day  we  are  going  to  Fail- 
Point,  where  tiny  have  the  Sunday-school  As- 
sembly every  August.  We  have  three  pets— a 
bird  called  Beauty,  who  sings  all  day  long,  a  large 
New  toundland  dog.  .let.  and  a  tiny  Maltese  kit- 
ten. Muff.  She  has  bad  two  or  three  tits.  Does 
anyone  know  what  will  caret  hem  '•  We  all  love 
^OUNG  PEOPLE  dearly,  and  watch  anxiously  for 
it.  I  do  hope  you  will  think  this  worth  prin't  ing. 
for  I  want  to  surprise  papa  and  brother  Le  Roy. 

S.  A  DELE  M. 

I  think  that  kitty  will  outgrow  her  tendency  to 
fits  if  you  do  not  pet  and  caress  her  too  much, 
and  at  the  same  time  see  that  she  is  not  overfed. 


I  inclose  five  cents  for  the  Nautilus:  please  send 

sixleell   illehes.       I    MeVerhaVe   written   before     SO 

I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  how  much 
I  enjoy  HAP.PEU'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE".  I  am  a  little 
Southern  girl,  and  see  cotton  growing  near  by. 
and  hear  the  mocking-birds  singing  in  our  yard 
''M  ry  day.  We  do  not  need  a  caged  bird  for  a 
pet  :  they  sing  so  much  better  free.  We  have 


three  cats  and  a  dog.    The  dog  is  very  intelli- 
gent :  he  will  shake  hands  witli  his  right  paw. 

Two  weeks  ago  an  Italian  with  his  family  passed 
here  ;  they  were  leading  two  bears,  a  br<  >wn  bear 
and  a  black  one.  I  felt  so  sorry  for  his  poor  chil- 
dren :  they  were  dressed  in  rags.  I  thought  it 
would  be  much  better  if  they  would  seek  homes 
here,  where  there  is  plenty  of  elbow-room  and 
plenty  of  work  to  do,  rather  than  go  through  the 
country  begging  from  the  people,  both  white  and 
black,  and  teaching  their  little  children  to  do 
nothing  but  beg. 

I  want  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers.  Ihave 
made  blackberry  pies  to-day.  I  am  tired  now. 
and  I  guess  you  are  too.  I  am  nine  years  old, 
and  have  been  at  school  two  years.  I  hope  you 
will  find  space  for  me  in  your  Post-office  liox. 
MATTIE  BELLE  T. 

I  agree  with  you  about  the  Italian  family. 
From  Mattie's  mother  comes  this  gratifying 

letter  : 

DEAR  POSTSIISTKF.SS,— Allow  us  to  express  our 
admiration  for  your  management  of  the  Post- 
office  Box.  as  well  as  our  satisfaction  with  the 
whole  of  YOUNG  PEOPI.K  tl  rougbout.  We  say 
without  hesitation  that. the  [taper  is  faultless, 
and  are  lending  out  our  numbers  in  order  to  in- 
duce others  to  subscribe.  We  should  not  omit 
to  say  that  grandmother  enjoys  the  paper  as 
much  as  the  children  do.  Mils.  M.  B.  T. 


MISSOURI.  CAMPKHDOWN.  AUSTRALIA. 

I  am  nearly  ten  years  old.  I  have  a  Mule  sis- 
ter Maggie  nearly  six.  I  live  in  Camperdown. 
one  of  the  suburbs  of  Sydney,  and  every  morning 
drive  in  with  father  to  i^o  to  school,  coming  home 
by  the  tram.  I  learn  reading,  geography,  his- 
tory, dictation,  grammar,  arithmetic,  music,  and 
composition.  This  quarter  I  got  274  marks  more 
than  I  did  the  last.  We  have  our  midwinter 
holidays  now.  Father  is  an  American  citizen. 
and  has  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  lor  me  ever  since 
ii  was  begun.  It  is  very  nice  reading,  and  1  have 
often  thought  I  would  like  to  write  a  letter  to 
you  from  this  far-off  Australian  land,  but  hardly 
knew  what  to  tell  you  ;  yet  I  would  so  like  some 
little  American  girl  to  write  to  me  and  fell  me 
all  about  little  girls  over  there,  and  then  I  could 
write  to  her,  and  tell  her  what  we  do  here,  and 
perhaps  in  a  few  years,  when  father  says  he  will 
take  me  over  to  America,  I  could  go  and  see  her. 
and  be  great  friends. 

1  am  going  to  tell  you  bow  we  kept  Independ- 
ence-day in  Sydney  last  week.  Wednesday  morn 
ing  (July  4)  was  greeted  with  anxious  eyes  |,y  the 
Americans  of  Sydney.  There  had  been  a  little 
rain  the  night  before,  and  the  day  broke  with 
light  misty  showers,  but  it  got  brighter  as  the 
day  wore  on  ;  so  v\  e  took  our  way  to  the  Ameri- 
can Studio.  George  Street,  where  the  company 
was  to  meet.  Then  we  stepped  into  the  car- 
riages, and  drove  round  into  Minyard  Square: 
there  were  about  forty  carriages,  all  decoral*  d 
with  small  flags,  and  "many  of  them  had  large 
banners.  When  all  were  ready  we  drove,  head- 
ed by  the  band,  through  the"  principal  street. 
which  was  crowded  with  people  tit  see  the  pro 
cession  pass  by.  out  to  Botany  Hay.  about  i:\e 
miles  from  town.  Some  people  hung  out  flags 
to  greet  us.  and  we  cheered  as  we  passed  them. 
When  we  got  to  the  pavilion.  Botany,  we  had  a 
nice  lunch  of  oysters  and  sandwiches.  Then 
dancing  was  arranged,  and  kept  up  until  dinner- 
time—two o'clock.  It  was  a  very  nice  dinner: 
every  one  was  so  kind  and  obliging.  After  din- 
ner the  chairman,  General  Bennett,  called  upon 
Mr.  Sheridan  to  read  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. Then  we  drank  the  toast  of  "  The  day 
we  celebrate."  the  band  played,  and  the  gentle- 
men cheered  and  sang  "The  star-spangled  Ban- 
ner." Then  the  chairman  proposed  "The  Queen," 
and  the  band  played,  and  the  gentlemen,  both 
American  and  Australian,  sang  "  God  save  the 
Queen."  Then  there  were  more  toasts,  and  after 
that  moredancing.  Some  of  the  gentlemen  played 
cricket,  base-ball,  and  other  games.  At  about 
four  o'clock  there  were  tea  and  coffee,  and  plen- 
ty of  nice  cake.  Only  that  it  was  winter  we 
would  have  bad  ice-cream.  At  sunset  we  took 
the  carriages  again  for  home.  It  was  a  clear 
starlight  night,  and  as  we  drove  along  our  com- 
pany sang  "  Marching  through  Georgia."  "  Red. 
White,  and  Blue."  "Our  Jack's  come  Home  to 
day."  and  other  songs.  So  we  had  a  real  good 
time  of  it.  There  was  a  large  ball  at  night  of  over 
three  hundred.  Fathersays  that  the  ladies  were 
splendidly  dressed,  and  that  it  was  a  great  suc- 
cess. 

And  that  was  the  way 

We  kept  the  day— 

The  great,  the  grand,  the  glorious  day. 
That  gave  us — hurray!  hurray!  hurray !- 
With  a  battle  or  two.  the  histories  sa\. 

Our  national  Independence. 

LIZ/IE  N.  P. 

Thanks  for  this  pretty  description  of  a  Fourth 
of  July  on  the  other  side  of  the  world. 


LAMT.fs,  I.   1...V..    1-1    >Mi. 

I  have  taken  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE  ever 
since  the  first  number,  and  I  think  it  is  splendid. 
I  tried  the  receipt  in  No.  1%  of  HAMPER'S  YOUXG 
PEOPLE  for  taffy,  by  Margaret  Willis  B..  and  I 
think  it  is  splendid.  I  am  having  a  lovely  time 


SEPTEMBER  11,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


719 


this  summer  at  Lawrence.    I  go  in  bathing  quite 
a  good  deal,  and  enjoy  it  very  much  indeed, 
always  read  the  letter-box,  and  try  t"  find  "in 

tin-  answer-  t.i  tli.-  pil/zli-s.  I  think  that  Mrs 
l.illi..1-  and  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are  the  best 
..fall.  I  like  espe, -ially  Mr<.  Lillie's  stories  about 
mii-i.-.as  I  am  \ery  fund  of  it. 


FANNIE  S. 


THE  WOODBINE. 

Shall  I  tell  the  reason  why  I  l»ve 

The  scarlet  woodbine  1..  -t 
Of  all  the  gentle  swaying- vines 

In  summer  verdure  dressed? 
'Tis  because  it  climbs  and  blossoms 

I  Mi  a   far-di-tant  shore. 
Over  the  L'ravc  ..f  .me  I  loved 

In  the  happy  days  of  yore 
He  was  my  cherished  brother. 

Wllo-.'   tender  heart    was  true: 

orphans  iii  this  wide  world  alone. 

our  pleasures  told  were  few: 
But  in  our  little  garden  home 

Were  blessimrs  pure  and  meek. 
And  hand  in  hand  we  gathered 

Those  way-side  blos-.,ms  sweet: 
And  when  the  shaaes  of  evening  fell 

Hound  our  dear  cottage  home. 
\\  Men-  fragrant  lilies  mingled 

With  odorous  perfume. 
When  through  the  open  windows 

Came  breath  of  summer  hours. 
To  me  tlie  -carlet  woodbine 

Seemed  fairest  of  vines  or  flowers. 
climbing  the  olden  lattice. 

Hanging  its  berries  red 
o\er  the  low  south  windows. 

By  dew  and  sunlight  fed. 
In  after-years  a  sprig  of  green 

I  s.nt  across  the  wave 
To  him  who  searched  for  golden  sand 

P.y  rocky  glen  and  cave  ; 
'Twas  planted  by  his  ,-:il.in  door. 

Where,  when  his  work  was  done. 
The  lamp-light  shining  on  its  lea\.  - 

Would  whisper  him  of  home: 
It  curtained  with  a  veil  of  green 

The  toiling  miner's  cot ; 
Their  !,lo-s,,m-  stole  to  his  homesick  soul 

Like  the  blue  forget  me  not. 
lie  -eiit   me  many  a  treasure 

lit   fragrance  pure  and  rare. 
With  gold  his  willing  bands  had  found. 

That  I  bis  gains  might  share 
Then  cc:1>ed  his  kindly  letters: 

Was  be  coming  home  t>.  me! 
The  very  thoii-bt  made  my  glad  heart 

Beat  fast  and  joyously. 
I'.ut  the  -ummer  bloom  had  faded. 

And  autumn's  chilling  rain 
Beat  with  a  dreary,  lonesome  sound 

on  the  cottage  window-pane. 
I  was  thinking  of  the  absent  one, 

When.  In  :  as  in  a  dream. 
There  ro-e  a  silent  cabin  home 

oVrgrown  with  woodbine  green. 
No  cheerful  lamp  light  shed  its  ray- 

From  window-sill  or  door. 
I  heard  the  Sacramento  moan 

Along  the  rocky  shore. 
While  mournful  voices  seemed  to  say. 

••  We  sa/ily  miss  his  merry  song 
since  his  comrades  laid  him  down  to  sleep 

The  woodbine  leaves  among." 
Then  the  vision  slowly  faded  : 

I  woke  as  from  it  dream  ; 
The  rain  had  ceased,  the  sun  shone  bright 

The  glistening  leaves  between; 
But  with  evening  came  a  letter. 

With  some  leaves  and  berries  red: 
Too  well  I  knew  they  mark  the  spot 

Where  sleeps  my  cherished  dead. 

MARION  HEI.KN  BASSETTE. 


cheery  Maggie  is  writing  of  the  sunbeams  on  the 
water;  they  are  still  lingering  on  her  golden  head. 
Bessie,  thi  geographer,  is  actually  drawing  a  map 

of  the  river.  Sympathetic  but  rather  gossipy 
Kobert  is  telling  of  the  poor  little  Irish  boy  who 
was  killed  there  three  weeks  ago  :  how  the  huge 
robber  saw  him  receive  Ids  wages — only  five  dol- 
lars—toll., we. 1  him  up  the  tow-path,  took  his 
m.  .hey.  and  threw  him  over  the  svall  into  the  riv- 
er:  how  he  clung  t..  the  willows  and  called  for 
help,  but  none  .-aiiie.  the  bluff  being  so  high  that 

i ie  could  reach  him  in  time  to  save  him      Let 

us  hope  the  story  is  made  up  by  Hob.  Turner, 
the  mathematician,  is  describing  the  fine,  exact 
work  of  the  engineers. 

"lou  see.  Blanche  was  surrounded  by  the  -ani" 
things  and  seenery  as  her  companions,  but  saw 
nothing.  Kathie.  a  bright  girl  who  had  be.  n  a 
little  depressed,  listened  to  the  flow  of  the  river 
and  took  eourage  ;  the  rest  saw  and  wrote. 

This  is  what  will  help  you  with  your  composi- 
tion-: look  around  you:  listen  to  people  talk: 
watch  what  makes  them  laugh  or  cry.  Every 
rlower  and  sunbeam  has  a  voice;  look  and  listen, 
then  write. 

The  bell  rings ;  the  class  is  excused.  Thomas. 
the  philosopher,  hands  me  Ids  composition.  I 
glance  down  its  lines.  He  has  described  the  en- 
gine in  u -e  on  the  canal,  and  tried  to  moralize  on 
the  tlir.e  testa  to  tind  the  height  of  water  in  tin- 
boiler  I  will  apply  his  thoughts  to  you.  dear 
\  .  .ling  j..-.  .|'le.  and  when  the  tests  of  temptation 
are  brought  to  bear  on  yon.  may  you  be  found 
with  strength  and  power  t..  move  on.  overcom- 
ing all  with  honor  and  glory  : 

SISTER  FLORENCE. 


PLATTEVILLE,  Wi-.-,,s-iv. 

I  had  a  lit tli-  bird  ;  it  was  a  canary,  and  a  • 1 

singer,  but  it  died.  I  have  a  sister  :  she  is  a  bead 
taller  than  I  am.  and  one  year  older.  I  am  just 
half  past  seven,  v>  <•  ha\>-  one  big  cat  and  three 
little  kittens:  they  are  very  cunning,  and  plav 
'most  all  day  long.  We  have  an  Alderuey  cow. 
The  cream  that  we  skim  off  her  milk  is  so  thick 
we  .in  nearly  cut  it  with  a  knife.  Mamma  has 
made  three  quarters  of  a  pound  of  bnlter  off  one 
morning's  milk.  1  spend  most  of  my  time  play- 
ing croquet  I  wrote  a  letter  before,  but  yon  did 
not  print  it.  I  hope  yon  will  print  this  one  I 
think  I  am  making  my  letter  unite  long,  so  I  will 
close  right  here  with  a  period.  Your  little  friend 
and  steady  reader.  ETIIEI.  V. 

!  ,.   FALLS,  KB*   V..I:K. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nearly  twelve  years  old.  and 
a-  I  read  about  little  girl*  telling  about  their 
pets.  ]  thought  I  would  write  something  about 
mine  [  hare  a  cat.  and  its  name  is  I'olonH.aml 
it  will  let  me  dress  it  up  like  a  doll,  and  wheel  it 
around  in  my  little  sister's  doll  carriage,  and  not 
try  to  get  out.  llon't  yon  think  she  is  a  good 
little  kilty;  My  next  pet  is  a  young  dove,  and 
as  I  have  not  had  it  verylong.it  does  not  know 
me  vi-rv  well  yet.  but  I  sometimes  take  it  out 
and  let  it  fly  around  the  room,  and  when  I  want 
to  put  it  bai-k  again  I  open  the  cage  door  and  it 
will  go  in.  The  next  and  hist  one  jsa  dog  named 
.lack,  a  f •! tiny  pet.  1  suppose  you  will  think,  for  a 
girl  to  ha\e.  but  i  like  him  as  well  as  any  of  my 
others,  for  he  i-  so  full  of  play,  and  I  have  lots  of 
fun  with  him.  My  father  has  been  taking  HAR- 
ci:i:'s  V  i  n 'si.  PEOPLE  for  me  a  long  time,  and  I  al- 
ways like  to  hear  the  stories  read,  especially  the 
letters  in  the  p,,st  office  Box.  and  I  hope  you  will 
print  this  letter.  E.  H. 


MY  COMPOSITION  rl.Av- 

My  class,  forty  in  number,  has  just  entered  the 
room.  I  call  the  roll.  Fat  Dickson  is  absent. 
He  came  to  me  yesterday  at  recess,  turned  his 
fast-swelling  cheek  to  me.  giving  it  two  or  three 
exulting  slaps,  and  said.  "See  here.  Miss  Flor- 
ence !"  He  is  now  at  home,  enjoying  both  holi- 
days and  mumps. 

Inquiring  faces  are  waiting  for  the  subject  to 
be  announced.  What  do  you  think  it  is?  Alfred 
the  Great,  or  Decline  and  Fall  of  Koine?  No. 
no.  not  this  time :  it  is  simply.  "  What  I  Saw  at 
the  Picnic."  I  am  greeted  with  a  low  murmur 
of  pleasure  and  many  bright  smiles. 

They  are  now  writing  busily,  and  I.  dear  little 
friends,  will  write  to  yon.  What  I  say  may  be 
helpful  to  you  ill  the  hardest  task  of  school  life. 
namely,  writing  a  composition. 

Presently  Blanche  calls  to  me.  saying.  "I  can't 
write  ab,  "it  '  What  I  Saw  at  the  Picnic.'  I  didn't 
-.••  anything,  except  some  old  rocks,  and  the  ca- 
nal they've  been  working  on  for  a  year  or  two. 
and  it  is  not  finished  yet  " 

Bustling  Andrew  looks  up.  and  says.  "That  is 
just  what  I'm  writing  about:  for  when  I  go  to 
Congress  I  am  going  to  see  that,  when  public 
works  are  once  begun,  money  enough  shall  be 
given  to  finish  them,  and  not  waste  what  has 
been  given  by  buying  new  tools,  paying  men  to 
watch,  and  repairing  the  rir-t  work." 

There  is  romantic  Mae:  she  is  describing  the 
grand  bluffs  reaching  almost  to  the  sky.  Bright. 


and  the  Post-office  Box.  We  have  a  nice  river 
called  the  St.  John's  Kiver  :  it  is,  I  think.SN'i  miles 
long,  and  some  places  five  miles  wide.  This  is 
the  first  time  I  have  written  to  YOUN<;  PEOPLE. 
I  am  a  little  boy  ten  years  old.  LEVEKETT  B. 


ST   M  *ro '-  Ii:Kt  HOSPITAL  FOR  CHII  ,  i  >   .. 

4r,7  AM,  4.  :<   Wt-T  '1  imm  -fi  Kill  ST..  X  KW   YORK. 

sister  Catharine  acknowledges,  with  thanks, 
these  contributions  r.-ceived  from  friends,  and 
i i-i.l  lor  the  Fresh-air  Fund  of  tin-  Hospital :  Two 
..t'  Ilarp.r-  \.,un^  People,  Columbus,  Ohio,  $3 ; 
Willie  and  (ieorge  C.  Niagara  Falls.  $•„' :  Belllah 
M  |l..  SI  :  total  (August  15.  ISSM..  $0. 


Favors  are  acknowledged  from  Daisy  I,.,  Jliiiily 
V..  Jack  T..  Kosalie  and  Koy  II..  Waltrr  II..  Lottie 
B.  >'.,  Tim,  Helen  S..  diaries  T..  ami  Tonnsnnl  II. 
— ( Imrles  S.  >. :  The  grape-like  object  \..u  sent 
for  inspection  is  a  fresh-\vater  alger  of  ven  l.,u 
organism  -  H.  I*.  >V.  :  The  eggs  of  the  common 
t,  ,a,l  a  re  deposited  in  ditches  and  along  the  shores 
of  ponds.  They  resemble  strings  of  fine  black 
beads,  and  each  string  of  eggs  is  covered  with  a 
transparent  covering  not  unlike  gelatine.  When 
the  tadpoles  leave  the  egg  they  are  very  small 
and  very  black,  and  feed  entirely  on  minute  vege 
table  matter  for  many  weeks  before  they  pa-s 
thr,  ,uirh  the  ehanges  which  fit  them  to  eating 
animal  food.  Sometimes  the  toads'  eggs  are  seen 
t.--t.  ...Ming  a  branch  of  some  aquatic  plant,  and 
t  in-  plant  then  looks  as  if  it  had  gone  into  mourn- 
ing.—.Nattie  Hull,  a  dear  little  subscriber  in  Bed- 
ford. Pennsylvania,  died  on  July  29.  Boys  who 
may  have  sent  exchanges  to  him  will  addres-  his 
brother.G.  l.  1>.  Hall. 


ITZ/LES  |,'l:oM  rOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  ]. 
CONUNDRUMS. 

1.  Where  is  happiness  to  be  found? 
-.'    Which  two  arc  the  hottest  letters  in  the  al- 
phabet ? 

en  MILE-  K.  and  ARTHUR  M.  TIMMERMAN. 


DE  u:  POSTMISTRESS.— I  am  a  boy  nine  years  old. 
I  have  been  taking  YorM,  PEOPLE  ever  since 
"Toby  Tyler"  was  commenced  in  it.  My  uncle 
gave  it  to  me  for  a  Christinas  present  for  two 
years,  and  my  aunt  this  year.  I  like  the  Post- 
oftiee  n,,x  very  much,  and  I  thought  I  would 
write  a  letter  and  tell  how  I  like  this  country, 
which  is  a  new  home  for  me.  I  live  jnst  in  sight 
of  the  principal  buildings  of  the  Bell  Farm,  tin- 
great  Farm  of  the  Northwest.  Before  I  came  here 
I  lived  on  the  banks  ..f  the  St.  Lawrence. in  the 
town  of  Brockville.at  the  foot  of  the  Thousand 
Islands.  I  came  through  the  chain  of  lakes  t,, 
the  head  of  Lake  superior:  from  there  here  on 
the  trains.  We  are  312  miles  from  Winnipeg.  We 
see  lots  of  Indians  here.  There  is  a  kind  of  a 
little  animal  called  a  gopher  that  lives  on  the 
prairie.  We  have  tine  sport  catching  them.  We 
get  a  string  and  make  a  slip-knot  on  one  end: 
then  we  chase  one  into  its  hole  :  then  we  put  the 
slip-knot  over  the  hole,  and  when  it  goes  to  come 
up  we  jerk  the  string,  and  we  have  it.  The  string 
is  around  its  m-ek  You  may  think  it  cruel  to 
kill  the  gopher-,  but  they  destroy  the  grain  and 
garden-  NOC.BEKT  II. 


No.  '-' 

CHARADES. 

1.  'Tis  in  the  first  you  take  a  ride. 

The    Seeolld's    to    cafe--  : 
The    model    housewife    smiles    with    pride 

The  whole  if  she  poss.  ss 

•-'   My  iir-t  in  every  city  seen. 
Encircles  many  a  garden  green  : 
My  last  a  trine  i-,  bo  sure: 
Mv  w  bole  a  name  in  Scotia's  lore. 

.1.  K.  SLLIM. 

No.  :;. 

E  N  I  fi  M  A . 

My  tirst  is  in  pony,  not  in  steed. 

My  second's  in  haste,  but  not  in  speed. 

.My  third's  in  run,  not  in  jump. 

.My  fourth  is  in  heart,  not  in  hump. 

My  fifth's  in  faith,  not  in  hop.-. 

My  sixth's  in  cord,  not  in  rope. 

My  se\  en  Ill's  ill  win.  though  not  in  won. 

My  eighth's  in  pleasure, not  in  fun. 

M\  ninth's  in  lovely,  not  in  sweet. 

M\  tenth's  to  be  found  not  in  swift,  but  in  fleet. 

My  whole  a  part  of  speech  will  prove 

Which  even  scholars  seldom  love.     LULU  II  s. 


I  .     h-"SM!  I  t  .  Fl.»RlnA. 

I  live  down  south  in  Florida,  and  see  lot-  of 
alligators,  small  and  large.  We  have  a  pet  dog. 
.lack,  and  think  lie  i-  pr.-tty  good  for  walking  on 
his  hind-feet,  and  we  give  him  a  piece  of  cake. 
Sometimes  my  aunt's  girl  will  make  him  walk 
across  the  room  that  way.  My  mother  tried 
(;  rand  mother's  cake,  and  it  was  nice.  We  took 
the  receipt  from  YOUM.  PEOPLE.  My  sister  and 
brother  and  myself  have  taken  the  paper  for 
three  years,  anil  I  like  Jimmy  Brown's  stories 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No    I'M 

No.  1.  C'  A  R  A  T 

ABATE 
RADIX 
ATI  L  T 
T  K  X  T  S 

G 

O  It  E 

GROVE 

EVA 

E 

Y  enesei.  P  erth. 

1 1  rin.  ,e, ..  E  tna. 

I"  tab.  O  zalsa. 

N  orway  P  ersia. 

i;  corgia.  L  uckiiow. 

E  cuador. 

N,,   I       A  soft  answer  tnrneth  away  wrath,  but 
grievous  words  stir  up  anger." 


The  answer  to  the  Enigma  on  page  fi&S  of  N... 
•Ml  is— A  Rainbow. 

Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Robert  L.  Allee,  Harry  Fleming. Charles  E. 

and  Arthur  M.  Timmerman.  Agnes  Dare.  Mary 
Sheridan  Dick  Van  Zandt,  Elniore  I-'.,  Thomas 
and  Reggie  Archer,  T.  c.  D..  and  Maud  Dicker- 
son. 

(For  Krcliatitjef.  off  Zd  and  Zd  pages  of  emer.~\ 


720 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


OUR  ARTISTS  IDEA  OF 
IGGLE  N933 


SOME    ANSWERS    TO    WIGGLES    Nos.  Si    AND    34,  AXD    NEW    WIGGLK  No.  :». 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANi'  ILLUSTRATED,  nWEEKLY 


VOL.  IV.  -NO.  303. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  P.ROTIIERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  September  18,  1883. 


Copyright,  18*3,  by  HARFBR  A   BKOTHKKS. 


$1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


"THE    'WHITE    SQUALL'    SLOWLY    GLIDED    OUT    BEYOND    THE    REACH    OF    THE    PURSUING    FLAMES.' 


CANADIAN  DAYS. 

BY   EDWARD   I.  STEVENSON. 

II. 
THE   FOREST   FIRE. 

T  was   not  hard    to   see   why  the  name  "Arrowhead 
Point"  had  been  given  by  Gal  and  his  friends  to  the 
sharp  tongue  of  wood  land  (it  was  only  half  a  mile  wide 


I 


at  its  greatest  breadth,  and  perhaps  a  third  more  in  length) 
which,  about  eighteen  miles  from  Prince's  Settlement, 
projected  from  the  Canada  shore  into  the  blue  waters 
of  Lake  Superior. 

But  the  little  cape  had  more  than  its  name  to  mark  it 
in  their  minds.  Calvert  and  Gabriel  de  Zouche  had  found 
out  that  upon  Arrowhead  Point  a  colony  of  otter  was  en- 
joying life  greatly;  and  also  that  from  a  sandstone  ledge 


722 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


along  its  west  shore  the  white -fishing  was  a  thing  out 
of  the  common. 

'•'  Suppose  we  camp  out  there  ?''  Cal  had  said,  in  Sep- 
tember, to  Gabriel  cle  Zouche,  Job  Waller,  and  two  oth- 
ers. "There's  nothing;  mean  about  me.  when  I  happen 
to  be  perfectly  certain  of  enough  trapping  and  fishing  at 
Arrowhead  for  twenty  fellows,  let  alone  five." 

"A  good  scheme,  Cal,"  spoke  Job,  approvingly.  "We 
can  rig  a  shanty.  Once  a  week  one  of  the  crowd  can 
walk  back  to  the  settlement  for  anything  we  may  want. 
When  we  get  tired  of  camping  we  can  all  walk  back — for 
good." 

None  of  the  fathers  or  mothers  saw  much  objection  to 
this  enticing  plan.  The  shanty  was  promptly  knocked 
together.  Pots  and  pans,  blankets  and  traps,  were  trans- 
ported to  it  by  wholesale.  For  a  freak  a  large  raft  was 
built,  and  launched  in  Arrowhead  Cove,  and  even  chris- 
tened—the White  Squall.  By  the  middle  of  September 
the  camping  party  were  comfortably  settled,  and  the  otter 
colony  in  a  distressing'  panic.  Job  was  cook  ;  Calvert 
acted  as  a  kind  of  captain-general  to  the  others.  The 
days  were  busy,  the  nights  jolly.  Friends  and  relatives 
tramped  or  rowed  over  from  Prince's  Settlement  to  admire 
the  trophies  of  the  Arrowheads  (as  the  campers  took  to 
calling  themselves),  laughed  at  their  odd  housekeeping', 
and  asked  when  they  expected  to  have  killed  or  caught 
everything  finny  or  furry  in  the  neighborhood.  Alto- 
gether the  camp  quickly  proved  a  thorough  success. 

It  was  during  the  second  week  that  Calvert  and  his 
friends  first  heard  of  the  great  forest  fires  burning  in  the 
North.  The  atmosphere  grew  heavy  and  dense.  Long 
John  Capiteau  met  Gabriel  in  the  woods  one  day  and  told 
the  boy  that  unless  the  wind  changed,  trouble  might  be  in 
store  for  Prince's  Settlement.  Three  days  after  this  small 
animals  suddenly  became  curiously  plentiful.  A  deer 
was  shot,  and  a  dozen  others  and  a,  bear  seen.  The  air 
did  not  clear.  At  night  a  dull  glare  lit  the  northwest 
skies.  The  pine-needles  dropped  two  inches  thick,  and 
the  rivulet  running  through  Arrowhead  all  at  oner  di-. 
appeared.  The  whole  world  of  sky  and  forest,  about  the 
boys'  camp  seemed  to  have  turned  to  a  dull  green  or  a 
wnirky  gray. 

Sunday  night  came.  In  the  middle  of  it  Gabriel  was 
aroused  from  a  sound  sleep  by  a  strong  breeze,  which  bad 
certainly  not  been  blowing  at  bed-time,  and  a  stifling  smell 
of  smoke.  The  boy  raised  bis  head.  Was  the  world  out- 
side the  cabin  door  on  fire  '>.  or  what  was  that  scarlet 
glare,  those  clouds  of  smoke  whirling  past,  those  strange 
cries  echoing  through  the  night  ?  Gabriel  leaped  to  his 
feet.  "Boys!  boys!"  he  cried,  darting  out  to  the  little 
space  before  the  shanty.  "Up,  up,  all  of  you!  The 
woods  are  afire."  The  rest  followed  him  scarcely  an  in- 
stant later. 

What  wandering  spark,  blown  on  the  veered  wind,  had 
stealthily  kindled  the  mischief?  .The  Arrowhead  woods 
were  blazing.  Suffocating  rifts  of  smoke  swept  directly 
down  the  point,  and  flame-colored  light  alternated  with 
pitchy  (I;,,  MI  ess.  The  boys  could  neither  tell  how  long  nor 
how  mighty  a  belt  of  fire  was  marching  upon  the  cabin, 
nor  how  rapid  would  be  its  approach.  A  danger  is  al- 
ways the  more  terrible  when  one  can  not  measure  it. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  "Do  you  think  the — the 
settlement  is  safe  ?"  said  Job,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"Yes — no;  I  can't  tell  precisely."  replied  Calvert.  "I 
fancy,  however,  that  the  fire  started  far  nearer  to  us  than 
to  it.  The  wind,  too,  doesn't  blow  just  right  for  the  place 
to  be  in  danger." 

As  Cal  ceased  a  dense  gust  of  smoke  rolled  over  the 
group,  and  the  faint  crashing  of  trunks  and  lapping  of 
flames  reached  each  ear  with  startling  distinctness. 

It's  coming  down  the  Arrowhead,"  Calvert  cried. 
"We  haven't  ten  minutes  to  lose.  Strip  the  shanty,  all 
hands!  Let  nobody  take  one  thing  that  isn't  necessary 


or  valuable — let  that  be  understood.      Then  for  the  White 
Squall!" 

"  And  the  rest  of  the  stuff  ?"  exclaimed  Gabriel. 

"The  rest  of  the  st.utf  must  stay  behind  us,  burn  or  not 
burn,"  answered  Cal,  sharply.  "  Thank  Heaven,  fellows, 
for  the  Squall .'  The  fire  has  cut  off  any  retreat  to  the 
mainland.  Without  the  raft  we  should  have  to  stay  here 
and  smother,  I'm  afraid." 

Cal's  tone  was  almost  merry  as  he  spoke — purposely  so ; 
for  the  boy  saw  difficulties  before  him  and  his  four  friends 
that  in  their  excitement  escaped  the  rest. 

A  very  few  moments  only  were  lost  in  hurriedly  getting 
together  the  guns,  the  nets  and  rods,  the  most  precious 
furs,  and  some  of  the  other  valuables  in  the  hut.  At  the 
last  instant  Calvert,  exclaiming,  "  What  was  I  thinking 
of  ?"  dashed  to  one  corner,  and  swept  with  his  arm  into  a 
canvas  bag  the  remnants  of  the  week's  provisions — to  wit, 
a  very  few  great  cakes  of  corn-bread,  some  cold  broiled 
meat,  and  three  roasted  birds. 

Loaded  down,  the  five  boys  began  picking  their  way  to- 
ward the  beach.  Hardly  a  word  was  spoken  as  they  did 
so;  but  often  afterward  Cal  and  Gabriel  thought  of  the 
curious  picture  that  their  excited  and  silent  little  caravan 
must  have  made,  and  what  queer  incidents  chanced  before 
the  White  Squall,  lying  half  in  sand  and  half  in  water, 
was  fairly  reached.  That  towering  curtain  of  smoke  be- 
hind their  backs,  which  now  reddened  like  daylight,  and 
now  became  part  of  the  gloom  and  darkness  of  night;  the 
screams  of  startled  wild  fowl  winging  their  way  to  safety 
far  overhead  in  the  sky;  the  shadows  of  small  unknown 
animals  darting  to  the  right  or  left  of  the  boys — all  these 
things  came  back  to  them  in  later  days.  Calvert,  too,  re- 
membered how  once  that  night,  in  rounding  a  tall  bowl- 
der, three  foxes  sped  past;  and  how,  a  little  farther  on,  he 
saw  a  large  lynx  standing  as  if  puzzled  whither  next  to 
turn.  At  the  time  it  actually  did  not  seem  to  Calvert 
worth  while  to  speak  of  it. 

The  White  Squall  was  reached.  .  "Now,  all  together — 
shove  her  along!"  exclaimed  Gabriel.  With  what  rude 
levers  lay  at  hand  the  raft  was  floated.  Wading  in  the 
shallow,  the  boys  laid  down  their  light  loads.  Denser  and 
more  stifling  each  moment  grew  the  smoke. 

"All  aboard !"  cried  Cal.  The  next  moment  the  rudely 
shaped  oars  struck  the  reddening  ripples,  and  the  White 
Si/itu/l  slowly  glided  out  beyond  the  reach  of  the  pursu- 
ing flames.  For  about  a  hundred  feet  on  every  side  the 
surface  of  the  lake  could  be  seen.  Beyond  that,  smoke 
and  mist  shut  in  the  water,  the  raft,  and  the  little  party 
aboard  it. 

What  anxious  hours,  till  daylight,  followed!  Within 
what  seemed  a  coitple  of  miles  from  the  coast  of  Arrow- 
head, and  with  the  air  about  them  become  gradually  purer 
and  cooler,  Cal  and  Gabriel  ceased  pulling  at  their  oars, 
and  sat  almost  silently,  like  the  others.  Each  wondered 
where  the  li-ht  would  lind  them  ;  each  thought  of  the 
friends  at  the  settlement,  friends  of  whose  safety  they 
were  not,  after  all,  secure,  and  who  would  undoubtedly  be 
only  too  anxious  for  tidings  from  the  party  now  floating 
011  ihe  White  Squall.  The  dawn  broke  at  length,  but 
there  was  little  real  light  until  long  after  it,  so  thick  was 
the  air. 

"Do  you  know  where  we  are — where  we  have  drifted 
to  ?"  whispered  Gabriel  to  Cal,  later  011  in  the  morning,  as 
the  eyes  of  all  looked  over  the  gray  circle  of  water  and 
murk  of  which  the  raft  was  the  centre. 

'No,  I  don't,"  responded  Calvert,  in  a  low  voice,  "  nor 
where  in  the  world  we  are  likely  to  bring  up." 

Then  Gabriel  realized  that  a  new  and  very  serious  diffi- 
culty had  arisen.  In  such  an  atmosphere,  one  which 
might  remain  unchanged  for  a  week,  there  was  positively 
no  means  of  telling  upon  what  side  lay  the  coast,  which 
they  had  quitted;  and,  worst  of  all,  no  way  of  telling  in 
which  direction  to  steer  the  White  Sqiiull. 


SEPTEMBER  IS,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


723 


"Don't  say  anything  much  about  it  to  frighten  the 
rest. "said  Cal  to  Gabriel,  a  while  later;  "but  one  tiling 
must  be  put  in  shape  right  away." 

Presently  he  added,  aloud,  in  his  usual  clear,  pleasant 
tone:  "See  here,  fellows.  Seeing  as  we  may  not  get 
home  for  supper  to-night  or  breakfast  to-morrow,  hadn't 
\\e  better  serve  out  our  provisions  here  in  rations,  eh  f 

The  assent  was  general.  The  two  younger  boys,  Stephen 
and  Felix  Beaubieii,  even  laughed  a  little  over  their  all 
having  "to  play"  shipwrecked  sailors  for  a  time.  Job 
.said  nothing,  but  watched  Calvert  and  Gabriel  under- 
standingly  as  they  took  account  of  their  little  stock  of 
provisions,  and  while  seeming  to  join  in  (he  joking  of  the 
two  Beaubiens,  settled  upon  the  just  allowance  for  each. 

"We  have  quite  enough  to  eat  for  two  or  maybe  three 
days,"  Cal  remarked  upon  finishing  the  task,  "and  as  to 
water,  there  is  no  danger  but  that  we  will  have  only  too 
much  of  flint.  It  seems,  though,  that  there  wasn't  so 
much  meat  on  the  shelf  as  I  thought — and  I  took  such 
pains  to  bring  it,  too.'' 

In  spite  of  the  caution  exercised  by  Cal  and  Gabriel, 
long  before  night  every  one  on  board  of  the  1I7/  iti-  Squid! 
came  to  understand  that  the  situation  was  a  very  grave 
one.  Here  were  five  boys  adrift  on  the  mightiest,  fresh- 
water sea  in  the  world,  on  an  open,  unmanageable  raft, 
with  scant  food,  and  no  way  of  reckoning  compass  points 
or  course!  The  sun  was  utterly  hid. 

"  You  might  cut  the  air  with  a  jackknife !"  Job  said. 

Asnight  came  on  there  seemed  to  be  a  slight  lightening  up 
straight  overhead;  but  total  darkness  so  quickly  followed 
that  nothing  came  from  that.  Cal  served  out  the  slender 
supper,  and  making  themselves  as  comfortable  as  the 
Iiiulli  and  breadth  of  the  Wliiti'  Si/mill  permitted,  the 
boys  drifted  along  in  the  darkness.  Cal  and  Gabriel  tried 
to  keep  up  their  own  and  the  others'  spirits  by  some  lively 
chat  about  the-  chances  of  finding  out  their  bearings  tin- 
next  day. 

Alas!  that  next  day  broke  in  fog  and  drizzle,  and  with 
full  as  much  smoke  overhead  as  ever. 
[TO  BK  co.vn.M'hii.  ] 


-ALL  IS  FOR  T1IK   I'.KST:" 

OR,  THE    ADVENTURES    OF    RABBI    AKIBA. 
BY  DAVID  KKI! 

S  contented  as  Rabbi  Akiba"  was  a  proverb  among 
the  Jews  of  his  time  throughout  the  whole  length 
and  breadth  of  Syria,  and  certainly  not  without  reason. 
What  thing  it  was  that  could  ruffle  the  wise  old  teacher's 
calm  good  nature  no  one  could  ever  find  out. 

Once  upon  a  time  it  happelied  that  a  merry  youth, 
with  a  good  deal  more  fun  than  politeness  about  him, 
pledged  himself  to  make  the  Rabbi  lose  his  temper.  This 
he  tried  to  do  by  rushing-  into  his  study  three  or  four  times 
in  succession,  just  when  the  old  man  was  busiest,  and  ask- 
ing him  such  questions  as,  "Why  are  there  mosquitoes  on 
tlic>  Nile  '."  "How come  the  African  negroes  to  have  round 
heads  '."  and  so  on. 

But  do  what  he  would,  he  could  not  provoke  the  Rabbi, 
who  answered  all  his  annoying  questions  so  quietly  and 
kindly  that  at  last  the  young  fellow  was  fairly  ashamed 
of  himself,  and  begged  to  be  forgiven.  The  old  man  laid 
his  hand  upon  the  youth's  head  and  blessed  him. 

And  as  he  was  in  this  case,  so  he  seemed  to  be  in  every 
other.  If  a  passing  horseman  splashed  him  with  dirt,  or 
a  spiteful  camel  bit  a  piece  out  of  his  new  robe,  or  a  rude 
fellow  ran  against  him  and  almost  knocked  him  down,  or 
a  mischievous  puff  of  wind  whisked  away  his  parchment 
just  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  his  writing,  the  dear  old 
man  would  stroke  his  long  white  beard,  and  say  with  a 
•quiet  smile, 

"  All  is  for  the  best ;  what  God  wills  can  not  be  wrong." 


And  this  seemed  to  be  an  all-sufficient  medicine  for  him 
against  any  trouble  whatever. 

Now  it  happened  one  day  that  Rabbi  Akiba  had  to  take 
a  journey  across  one  of  the  Syrian  deserts,  and  he  went 
about  it  in  a  very  different  way  from  the  excursionists 
who  go  over  the  same  ground  nowadays.  His  entire  bag- 
gage consisted  of  a  small  lamp  and  a  roll  of  parchment 
manuscript  (for  there  was  no  printing  in  those  days)  con- 
taining the  five  books  of  Moses  in  Hebrew.  As  for  com- 
pany, all  he  had  was  the  donkey  on  which  he  rode,  and  a 
small  rooster,  which  he  carried  about  with  him  every- 
where to  make  sure  of  being  aroused  punctually  at  day- 
break, for  our  Rabbi  was  a  very  early  riser. 

The  first  day's  ride  was  a  long  and  a  hard  one,  and  the 
poor  old  Rabbi  was  very  glad  to  come  in  sight,  toward 
sunset,  of  one  of  those  little  Arab  villages  which  lay 
dotted  here  and  there  upon  the  few  fruitful  spots  in  the 
desert.  But  the  people  of  the  village  were  a  rough  set, 
and  when  he  rode  in  among  them  on  his  donkey  to  ask 
for  a  night's  lodging  he  soon  found  that  he  had  come  to 
the  wrong  place  for  that. 

"Do  you  think,  then,"  cried  one,  "that  we've  nothing 
to  do  with  our  houses  but  to  open  them  to  every  old  vaga- 
bond that  passes  '" 

"  A  pretty  idle  fellow  he  must  have  been,"  said  another, 
"to  have  lived  till  his  beard's  white  without  having 
earned  enough  to  keep  himself!" 

"  Why  don't  you  get  down  off  your  brother's  back,  and 
lei  In' in  have  a  ride  upon  i/onf  sneered  a  third;  "every 
donkey  should  have  his  turn!" 

"Look  here.  Uncle  White -beard,"  shouted  a  fourth, 
"there  are  some  nice  damp  caves  among  the  rocks  yon- 
der that  '11  make  a  famous  lodging  fora  grave  old  hermit 
like  you." 

.  And  then  some  mischievous  boys  began  to  throw  dirt 
over  him.  and  a  spiteful  dog  tore  the  skirt  of  his  robe,  and 
another  dog  sprang  up  and  gave  him  a  pinch  in  the  leg 
that  made  him  jump,  till  at  last  the  poor  old  teacher  was 
glad  to  make  off  as  fast  as  he  could,  very  sad  at  heart  to 
think  that  there  were  any  men  in  the  world  who  could  be 
mean  enough  to  treat  an  old  man  so  shabbily. 

"Well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "it's  all  for  the  best,  no 
doubt;  and  since  there's  nothing  else  to  be  done,  I  may  as 
well  take  shelter  among  the  rocks,  as  that  mischievous  fel- 
low advised  me." 

It  was  not  long  before  he  found  a  cave  dry  enough  to 
suit  him.  and  in  he  went,  leaving  his  donkey  to  graze  out- 
side. Having  eaten  the  few  wheaten  cakes  left  in  his 
wallet,  taken  a  drink  from  a  tiny  spring  that  bubbled 
from  the  rock,  and  wrapped  himself  snugly  in  his  mantle, 
the  old  man  began  to  feel  more  comfortable,  and  thought 
he  would  amuse  himself  by  reading  a,  little  before  he  went 
to  sleep. 

He  lighted  his  lamp,  and  set  it  upon  a  ledge  just  over 
his  head.  But  scarcely  had  he  pulled  out  his  book,  when 
lo!  a  violent  gust  of  wind  blew  the  lamp  out,  and,  worse 
still,  tumbled  it  down  off  the  ledge  on  to  the  ground,  spill- 
ing all  the  oil,  so  that  it  could  not  be  lighted  again. 

"Ha!"  said  the  Rabbi,  "not  much  reading  for  me  to- 
night, I  see.  Well,  110  matter;  doubtless  it  is  all  for  the 
best." 

But  it  seemed  to  be  all  for  the  worst  just  then,  for  at 
that  very  moment  a  terrific  outcry  and  flapping  of  wings 
was  heard  from  the  nook  in  which  the  rooster  had  perch- 
ed itself,  and  Akiba  rushed  to  the  mouth  of  the  cavern 
just  in  time  to  see  a  huge  gray  wolf  scudding  off  with 
poor  Chanticleer  in  its  mouth. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  the  old  man,  pityingly;  "I  shall 
miss  him  sorely,  though  I  am  not  likely  to  sleep  too  long 
on  such  a  couch  as  (his.  Well.  well.  I  dare  say  it  is  all 
for  the  best;  and,  thank  Heaven,  my  faithful  donkey  is 
still  left  me." 

Scarcelv  were  the  words  uttered  when  a  shrill  crv  of 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME   IV. 


terror,  blended  with  a  deafening  roar,  came  from  without, 
and  by  the  dim  light  our  Rabbi  could  just  see  his  donkey, 
which  had  strayed  to  a  little  distance,  struggling  in  the 
jaws  of  a  monstrous  lion. 

"All  gone!"  said  the  poor  old  man,  in  a  faltering  voice, 
for  this  last  blow  almost  overcame  him— "all  gone,  and 
I  am  left  alone.  But  it  must  all  be  for  the  best,  for  what 
God  wills  can  not  be  wrong." 

So  saying,  Akiba  tried  to  forget  his  troubles  in  sleep, 
and  having  now  no  rooster  to  arouse  him,  did  not  wake 
until  the  sun  was  high  in  the  sky. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  after  finishing  his  prayers,  "I  will  try 
these  villagers  once  more;  even  they  can  not  be  so  hard- 
hearted as  to  refuse  me  help  in  my  present  distress." 

But  as  he  approached  the  village  a  very  startling  sight 
presented  itself.  Not  a  living  thing  was  to  be  seen,  but 
men  were  lying  dead  en  every  side,  while  empty  chests, 


broken  boxes,  doors  torn  down  or  beaten  in,  hoof-prints 
deeply  stamped  in  the  clay,  told  plainly  of  a  night  attack 
by  robbers. 

"I  see  it  all,"  cried  Akiba,  "and  all  ifas  for  the  best, 
indeed.  Had  I  found  shelter  here  I  should  have  perished 
with  the  rest:  and  had  my  lamp  remained  burning,  or  my 
rooster  happened  to  crow,  or  my  donkey  to  bray,  I  should 
have  been  discovered  and  killed  in  the  cave.  Thanks  be 
to  God  who  has  saved  me  from  destruction !  but  I  wish 
these  poor  souls  could  have  been  saved  too,  ill  though 
they  treated  me." 

Then,  taking  possession  of  an  old  mule  which  the  rob- 
bers had  not  cared  to  steal,  and  filling  his  wallet  with 
such  provisions  as  he  could  find,  the  old  man  started 
again  toward  the  town  whither  he  was  bound,  and  reach- 
ed it  safely,  more  than  ever  convinced  that  "all  is  for 
the  best." 


Every  season  hath  its  pleasures : 

Spring  may  boast  her  flowery  prime. 


But  the  orchard's  golden  treasures 
Brighten  Autumn's  sob'rer  time. 


'DICK     AND     D." 

BY     LUCY     C.    LILLIE, 
Axitlior    of    "Mildred's    Bargain,"   "Nan,"   etc. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
DICK  DEARING  RETURNS  TO  SCHOOL. 

I  AM  sure  my  young  readers  will  believe  that  Master 
Dick  had  not  a  particularly  pleasant  time  at  home 
during  the  remainder  of  his  holiday.  Dr.  Field,  it  is 
true,  considered  he  had  been  sufficiently  punished,  but 
Mrs.  Thomason  chose  to  treat  him  as  though  he-had  en- 
tirely disgraced  himself,  and  had  it  not  been  for  Barbara, 
time  would  have  hung  heavily  on  his  hands. 

Barbara  had  satisfied  him  that  she  had  not  been  a 
"sneak."  She  had  been  asked  if  she  knew  where  Dick 
had  gone  to,  and  of  course  had  answered  truthfully. 
That  was  all,  and  in  consideration  of  this  explanation 
Dick  restored  her  to  his  favor,  even  allowing  her  to  play 
marbles  and  military  games  with  him.  Young  Field, 
Cousin  Maud's  brother,  a  Barnabas  boy  like  Dick,  was  very 
little  comfort  at  this  time,  since  he  chose  to  be  sarcastic  on 
the  subject  of  Dick  Devine,  and  continually  joked  Dear- 
ing  about  the  result  of  his  friendship  with  him. 

Will  Field  lived  not  far  from  the  Doctor's,  but  was  not 
a  particular  favorite  with  the  old  gentleman,  so  that  the 
school-room  did  not  often  have  to  endure  his  presence, 
and  but  that  it  would  have  been  "mean"  to  do  it,  Dick 


*  Becun  in  No.  199.  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


would  have  resolved  to  take  it  out  of  his  cousin  when  they 
returned  to  school.  At  Barnabas  Dick  was  a  universal 
favorite,  every  one  knowing  his  spirit  to  be  one  of  truthful 
manliness.  That  he  was  so  remorseful  for  his  thought- 
less disobedience  of  his  grandfather's  rules  showed  that  he 
might  be  trusted  in  the  future.  He  resented  nothing  in 
Dr.  Field's  rebuke,  and  would  even  have  accepted  a  good 
deal  of  scolding  from  Aunt  Julia ;  but  a  protracted  period 
of  dark  looks  and  icy  tones  was  an  infliction  hard  for  him 
to  bear. 

So  he  was  rather  glad  when  his  holiday  ended.  He  re- 
ceived a  kind  though  firmly  spoken  word  of  advice  from 
the  Doctor  as  he  was  leaving,  and  he  resolved  never  again 
to  be  anything  but  frank  with  him.  It  was  a  relief  to  be 
among  the  boys  at  Barnabas  again ;  to  hear  Packer's  live- 
ly account  of  how  gayly  the  mumps  had  spread  at  home, 
and  how  the  various  victims  looked.  Packer  had  culti- 
vated a  wonderful  facial  power  during  his  absence,  and 
could  on  a  moment's  notice  imitate  the  different  sufferers, 
and  when  on  one  occasion  during  study  hour  he  assumed 
this  look,  and  was  called  up  to  see  if  the  disease  had  recom- 
menced, the  joy  of  the  class  knew  no  bounds. 

Bearing  had  not  forgotten  Dick.  He  thought  of  him 
and  of  Norry,  and  of  the  little  dog  which  they  had  named 
Trusty,  a  great  many  times,  and  wondered  when,  if  ever, 
they  should  meet  again.  He  well  knew  that  Dick  Devine 
was  not  a  gentleman's  son,  nor  in  a  social  way  his  equal ; 
yet  among  all  the  boys  he  had  known  he  had  never  found 
the  something  which  Devine  possessed — a  marked  natural 
honesty  and  firmness.  It  was  something  that  made  it 
seem  impossible  that  he  (Bearing)  could  ever  feel  himself 
above  Dick  Devine,  and  yet  he  must  obey  his  grandfather. 


SEPTEMBER  18,  1S83. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


725 


Even  though  they  met,  they  were  not  to  speak ;  but  at  least 
he  could  remain  loyal  to  his  poorer  friend  in  his  heart. 

An  opportunity  of  expressing  tins  loyalty  occurred  one 
day  about  a  week  after  Dick's  return  to  school. 

It  had  been  raining  violently,  and  about  dusk  most  of 
the  boys  in  the  fourth  room  had  crowded  about  the  fire, 
waiting  for  the  welcome  summons  to  tea.  Dick  had  been 
up  in  the  master's  room  for  some  reason,  and  returned 
just  in  time  to  witness  an  exhibition  on  the  part  of  Will 
Field  which  made  him  turn  pale  with  indignation. 

This  accomplished  young  gentleman  was  sitting  up  on 
one  of  the  desks,  and  giving  a  most  ludicrous  and  highly 
embellished  account  of  Dick  Devine.  relating  the  circum- 
stances of  Dearing's  friendship  with  him,  and,  having 
heard  it  from  Brooks,  describing  the  scene  upon  which 
that  worthy  had  suddenly  appeared. 

"There  they  were,"  he  was  sayinir.  with  his  mean  little 
chuckle,  "dancing  around  like  bears  on  a  pole,  and  the 
little  chap  tooting  away  on  his  accordion,  and  Dick  just 
imitating  everything  this  beggar-boy  did.  Brooks  sa  \  s  it 
was  about  the  queerest  sight  he'd  ever  seen.  My!  didn't 
he  catch  it  when  he  got  home !" 

"  What  did  his  governor  do  ?"  inquired  Packer,  who 
always  relished  tragedy. 

"Flogged  him  till  he  couldn't  stand,"  said  Field,  prompt 
ly.      What  more  he  might  have  said  we  can  not  imagine, 
since  at  that  moment  a  pair  of  strong  young  hands  were 
on  the  nape  of  his  neck, 
and    Master   Field    found 
himself     suddenly    flung 
into    the    middle    of    the 
room,     with     his     cousin 
standing  over  him   whitr 
and  stern. 

"You'll  lie  about  me 
again,  Will,  I  think,"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  all  the 
boys  knew. 

Field  set  up  a  loud  howl, 
for  he  was  really  a  little 
hurt,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  commotion  was 
such  that  it  brought  Dr. 
Filliper  upon  the  scene. 
Field  was  sitting  on  one 
of  the  forms,  holding  his 
head  in  his  hands,  Dear- 
ing  was  in  the  midst  of  an 
eager  group,  and  Packer 
was  dancing  about  quietly, 
with  a  grin  not  altogether 
malicious,  but  not  quite 
kind. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?" 
Dr.  Filliper  said,  sternly; 
and  Field  gave  another 
low  howl.  Then  Dearing 
stepped  forward  and  told 
his  story. 

"And  the  fellows  may 
as  well  know  the  truth  of 
it,"  he  said,  in  a  quiet, 
courageous  voice.  ' '  That 
boy  Devine  is  as  good  as — 
as  any  gentleman's  son  I 
ever  knew,  and  my  grand- 
father never  raised  his 
hand  once  to  me.  I  did 
do  wrong — I  know  I  did — 
in  disobeying  him,  for  he 
doesn't  allow  me  to  pick 
up  strange  friends;  but  it 
was  not  Deviue's  fault. 


Field  here  says  he  was  a  pickpocket,  and  if  you  please, 
Doctor,  I'll  thrash  him  within  an  inch  of  his  life  if  I  catch 
him  or  any  one  else  saying  a  word  against  Devine  again." 

He  strode  up  to  Field,  who  was  still  wailing,  and  put 
out  his  hand. 

"I'm  sorry  if  you're  much  hurt,"  he  said,  gravely; 
"  but  you'll  remember  to  stick  to  the  truth  when  you  talk 
about  me  the  next  time,  I  hope." 

Dr.  Filliper  felt  it  his  duty  to  administer  a  reprimand 
all  around,  but  later  he  called  Dearing  to  his  own  room, 
and  there,  in  a  calmer  fashion,  heard  the  whole  story. 
The  Doctor  was  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  he  knew  enough 
of  the  world  and  the  lower  classes  to  feel  sure  something 
might  be  done  for  the  Devines.  After  Dick  left  him  he 
sat  down  and  wrote  a  note  to  a  very  charitable  cousin  of 
his  in  New  York,  asking  her  to  hunt  up  the  boys  and 
find  out  the  actual  state  of  things.  Dick  knew  that  this 
had  been  done,  and  one  morning  he  went  to  the  Doctor's 
room  looking  a  little  troubled. 

"Don't  you  think,  sir, "  he  asked,  "that  it  would  be 
well  to  write  this  to  my  grandfather  ?  You  see,  he  said 
I  was  to  have  no  more  to  do  with  Dick  Devine,  and  thisv 
might  seem  a  roundabout  way  of  hearing  from  him." 

The  Doctor  fully  approved  of  this  idea,  and  acted  upon 
it  at  once,  promising  Dr.  Field  that  he  would  let  him 
know  the  result  of  his  cousin's  inquiries. 

A  few  days  later  Dick  was  again  summoned  to  the  mas- 


•YOU    THOUGHT    TO    GET    AWAY    FEOM    ME.  DID    YOU! 


726 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


Vdl.r.ME  IV. 


ter's  room.  Tlie  Doctor  held  an  open  letter  in  his  hand, 
and  looked  very  grave. 

"I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  Bearing, "  he  said,  '  that  the 
result  of  our  search  has  not  been  very  satisfactory.  My 
cousin  searched  out  the  house  and  number,  and  found 
that  the  Devine  hoys  had  left  some  days  before  in  com- 
pany with  a  very  rough-looking  man.  I  am  afraid,  my 
bov',  that  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  forget  them." 

It  seemed  to  Dick  as  if  a  mist  came  before  his  eyes. 
Devine,  after  all,  to  be  proven  a  vagrant— a  low  boy! 
Yet  something  within  him  made  him  refuse  to  credit  this. 
He  looked  anxiously  at  the  Doctor,  saying,  in  as  firm  a 
voice  as  he  could  command, 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  floiit  believe  Devine's 
that  sortT  I  feel  sure  he'll  turn  up  all  right." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  house  on  Fifth  Avenue,  Mrs.  Thom- 
ason  was  triumphing  over  a  letter  from  Barnabas. 

"There,  father!"  she  exclaimed;  "didn't  I  tell  you  that 
that  boy  was  no  good.  And  to  think  that  Richard  was 
actually  twice  in  his  very  claws—  his  very  cZair.s.'" 

CHAPTER  X. 
WHERE  IS  NORRY  ? 

"  DICK,  are  you  awake  ?" 

It  was  Norry's  voice,  in  a  thin  whisper. 

"Yes— keep'  still,  Norry— speak  low."  But  sharply  as 
Dick  spoke,  he  put  out  a  very  tender  hand  to  touch  Nor- 
ry's. There  was  a  little  movement  on  Norry's  part  of  the 
straw  bed,  and  then  he  whispered  again, 

"  What  '11  you  do  if  he  comes  back  to  take  us  out  ?' 

"I  don't  know— I  must  think.  But  don't  you  be  afraid, 
Norry.  I  won't  leave  you." 

Silence  fell  between  the  two  boys  after  this  for  a  little 
while,  ]>ick,  as  he  said  he  would,  devoting  the  time  to 
thinking — not  alone  of  what  might  happen,  but  of  all  that 
had  happened  since  the  night  he  had  found  himself  turn- 
ed out  of  Dr.  Field's  employment. 

It  seemed  to  the  boy  as  if  a  lifetime  had  gone  by  since 
then,  yet  it  was  only  six  weeks  in  point  of  time.  But  the 
six  weeks  had  included  so  much  misery  that  time  seemed 
as  nothing  in  the  balance. 

For  the  first  few  days  after  his  disgrace  Dick  had  con- 
trived to  pick  up  work  in  the  old  fashion;  just  enough  to 
give  Norry  and  himself  bread  to  eat — perhaps  not  always 
himself,  but  enough  for  Norry  and  the  dog  always,  for 
Trusty  was  now  part  and  parcel  of  the  boys'  lives.  He 
was  never  to  be  neglected,  even  though  Dick  went  hungry; 
and  the  faithful  little  creature  seemed  to  know  and  under- 
stand just  how  true  his  new  friends  were  to  him.  While 
he  was  waiting  for  work  near  a  down-town  hotel  one  rainy 
afternoon.  Dick  was  startled  by  a  voice  just  at  his  c-lhou  . 
and,  turning  around,  found  himself  suddenly  face  to  face 
with  Gurdle.  If  that  dreaded  creature  had  looked  vil- 
lainous before,  his  countenance  was  certainly  more  cru- 
el than  ever  as  he  leered  at  Dick,  saying,  with  a  hoarse 
laugh : 

' '  So,  my  fine  fellow,  you  thought  to  get  away  from 
me,  did  you  '?  Well,  you  won't  do  it  this  time,"  and  what- 
ever the  terrified  boy  could  do  or  say,  Gurdle  kept  close  to 
his  side,  although  Dick  almost  ran  home,  with  a  half  fear 
that  the  other  man  might  have  seized  Norry.  And,  truth 
to  tell,  on  reaching  the  attic  not  a  sign  was  to  be  seen  of 
the  blind  boy  or  the  dog. 

Although  Gurdle  had  followed  him  into  the  room,  poor 
Dick  lost  all  thought  of  him  in  his  anguish  over  Norry's 
disappearance.  He  stood  still  in  the  middle  «(  l  he  lonely 
attic,  wringing  his  hands  and  crying  out.  "What  shall  I 
do?  Where  is  Norry  .'  Oh!  wftat  has  happened  to  him  ?" 
Mr.  Gurdle  took  it  very  coolly.  He  sat  down  011  the 
old  chair,  and  waited  for  Dick's  wild  lamentations  to  grow 
less  before  he  spoke. 

"  Yer'd  give  a  good  deal  to  see  him  now,  wouldn't  yer  ?" 


he  said,  with  a  grin.  "S'posin'  I  could  take  you  right  to 
him,  what  would  you  do  byway  of  gratitood  ?  Come, 
now,  let's  hear!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Gurdle,"  cried   Dick,  turning  his  streaming 
eyes  upon  him,  "I'd  do  anything.  <ni  i/tlii/xj.  I  would!" 
*  Mr.  Gurdle  seemed  to  think  it  necessary  to  reflect  a  lit- 
tle while  before  he  answered. 

[TO  UK  coxTixi'Kn.] 


MAX   RANDER  AND  THE  PROFESSORS. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE.  Jl'N. 

NOT  long  after  the  tiger  trouble  that  I  told  you  about 
some  time  ago,  Thacl  and  I  were  wandering  down  the 
main  street  of  a  dismal  French  village,  when  we  saw  the 
sign,  "  English  spoken,"  in  a  store  window. 

"Here's  somebody  to  talk  to!"  I  cried,  joyfully,  and 
rushed  right  in,  without  stopping  to  think  that  I  didn't 
want  to  buy  anything. 

There  was  an  old  man  and  a  boy  about  sixteen  behind 
the  counter,  and  as  I  didn't  know  which  was  the  English- 
man, I  looked  at  both  of  them,  and  said,  "English  spo- 
ken ?" 

The  boy  at  once  replied,  "Yes,"  and  then  added, 
"  What  want  you  2" 

Now,  as  I  hadn't  come  to  buy  a  sou's  worth,  this  ques- 
tion rather  confused  me,  and  all  I  wanted  was  to  get  out 
in  the  street  again  as  quickly  as  possible;  so  I  muttered 
something  about  hoping  to  find  an  American,  and  started 
for  the  door. 

Before  I  could  reach  it,  however,  the  French  boy,  who 
must  have  jumped  over  the  counter,  caught  me  by  the 
arm,  and  cried  out,  in  the  most  excited  manner: 

"Oh,  you  an  American,  then  ?  How  I  have  long  to 
see  one!  My  father  say  one  come  in  store  last  month, 
but  I  out  for  my  breakfast-at-the-fork.  Will  you  not 
speak  little  American  for  me  ?" 

I  stared  at  the  fellow  stupidly,  while  Thacl  beckoned  to 
me  from  the  doorway,  and  the  old  Frenchman  leaned 
back  against  the  shelves  grinning  with  delight  to  hear 
his  son  talking  in  a  language  he  couldn't  understand. 
Then  the  French  boy  drew  his  finger  across  his  forehead 
close  to  his  hair,  and  I  understood  him  at  once. 

"  Come  on,  Thacl,"  I  whispered;  "  he  thinks  all  Ameri- 
cans are  Indians;  so  just  you  screech  out  some  gibberish 
and  dance  about,  while  I  make  believe  scalp  you." 

So  Thacl,  who  was  always  ready  for  anything  with  noise 
in  it,  threw  his  cap  on  the  floor,  and  gave  a  war-whoop 
that  actually  frightened  me,  it  was  so  loud  ;  but  the  French 
I  M>\  <•  hipped  his  hands,  and  nodded  smilingly  to  his  father, 
so  I  knew  I  had  guessed  right.  Then  I  made  a  dash  for 
Thad,  saying  over  backward  all  the  big  words  I  could 
think  of,  and  every  once  in  awhile  giving  a  yell  that  soon 
caused  quite  a  crowd  to  collect  about  the  door.  The 
French  fellow  explained  to  them  who  we  were  and  what 
we  were  doing,  and  then  they  all  joined  in  the  applause. 

I  stood  on  my  head,  walked  on  my  hands,  and  chased 
Thad  around  the  store  until  we  were  both  breathless,  when 
I  tucked  his  head  under  my  arm,  and  made  a  bow  as  a 
sign  that  the  performance,  was  over. 

The  French  boy  came  forward  and  said,  "  Thanks 
much";  but  as  we  went  out  I  noticed  that  the  people  gave 
us  plenty  of  room  on  the  sidewalk. 

Well,  I  laughed  all  the  way  home,  the  whole  thing  was 
so  ridiculous,  and  had  just  asked  Thad  if  I  looked  so  very 
much  like  a  wild  red  man  when  I  saw  a  carriage  slop 
at  our  gate  and  1  wo  strange  gentlemen  get  out. 

"<>h.  they  must,  be  the  French  professors  father  said 
were  coming  to  talk  to  him  about  American  schools!"  I 
exclaimed. 

'And  don't  you  remember  papa  told  us  he  wanted  us 
to  speak  our  dialogue  for  them  '."  added  Thad. 

I  did  remember  that,  but  I  had  forgotten  a  good  deal  of 


SEPTEMBER   Is,  1SS::. 


IIAPJPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


727 


the  dialogue,  which  I  found  was  just  the  case  with  my 
brother. 

"  Let's  do  the  Indian  scene  for  them,"  he  suggested,  as 
we  were  brushing  our  hair  for  lunch,  or  "hreakfast -at-the- 
fork."  as  our  French  boy  called  it. 

I '.i -fore  I  could  reply  father  called  upstairs,  "Boys.  I 
want  you  to  come  down  and  entertain  these  gentlemen 
with  an  example  of  American  eloquence,  while  I  step 
across  the  street  for  your  mother.'' 

"Yes.  sir."  I  replied  :  and  then,  turning  to  Thad.  told 
him  that  we  must  do  the  best  we.  could  with  our  speeches. 

So  we  went,  down  and  were  introduced  to  the  professors. 
neither  of  whom,  it  seemed  to  me,  could  talk  English  much 
better  than  tin-  boy  in  the  store.  Father  explained  about 
our  dialogue,  and  then  left.  us. 

Thad  and  I  took  our  places  at  one  end  of  the  room,  and, 
having  made  our  bows,  started  oil'  in  grand  style,  both  the 
gentlemen  watching  us  with  the  closest  attention.  Sud- 
denly T  got  a  sentence  ahead  somehow  .  which  so  mixed  up 
Thad  that  he  began  lo  repeat  t  he  same  w  on  Is  over  and  over. 
I  frowned  at  him  as  hard  as  [  could,  at  the  same  I  hue  brush- 
ing kick  a  lock  ot'hair  that  had  t  umbled  over  my  eye-,  ;  hill 
he  thought  that  this  was  a  sign  for  him  to  turn  Indian,  and 
at  once  began  to  whoop  anil  yell  in  the  most  awful  man- 
ner. I  couldn't  help  rushing  I'm-  him  to  make  him  slop; 
but  as  this  was  exactly  what  1  had  done  down  at  the  store. 
he  only  capered  about  more  wildly  than  ever,  anil  \\  e  had 
a  regular  tussle  of  it. 

But,  even  while  we  were  both  rolling  on  the  lloor  T  no- 
ticed that  the  professors  sat  \\  alcbing  us  as  gravely  as  ever, 
and  then  it  suddenly  struck  me  that  they  must  think  this 
was  part  of  the  dialogue.  So.  as  1  bad  now  subdued  Thad, 
I  told  him  to  stand  up  and  look  serious  while  we  made  our 
how.  on  which  the  French  gentlemen  clapped  loudly,  and 
assured  father  afterward  that  we  noi  only  spoke  \\iih  lip- 

and  spirit,  but    really  acted  out  the  sentiment  of  the  piece. 


THE  MAN-OF-WAR  BIRD. 

BY  ARTHUR  LIXDSLEY. 

ONE  clear  cold  day  in  February  I  left  New  York,  bound 
for  Kingston,  which  is  on  the  south  side  of  the  island 
of  Jamaica.  By  the  time  that  we  had  been  at  sea  four 
days  the  cold  had  passed  away:  the  northeast  trade- winds 
were  blowing  delightfully,  and  it  was  perfect  luxury  sim- 
ply to  sit  on  deck  and  watch  the  sea,  always  the  same,  yet 
always  changing.  Two  da.ys  later  when  I  rose  in  the 
morning  I  found  that  we  had  passed  Morant  Point,  the 
eastern  end  of  Jamaica,  and  by  ten  o'clock  I  could  see 
on  the  beach  ahead  of  us  a  clump  of  trees,  which  I  knew 
from  their  position  must  be  on  Port  Royal  Point,  at  the 
entrance  to  the  harbor  of  Kingston. 

We  rounded  the  Point,  and  whereas  we  had  all  the  morn- 
ing been  running  westward  in  the  open  sea,  we  now  turn- 
ed back,  almost  east,  in  the  smooth  water  inside  the  long 
sandy  point,  and  ran  seven  miles  up  the  harbor  to  the 
wharf  at  Kingston.  Of  course  my  exes  were  open  to  take 
in  all  that  was  new  and  strange.  Not  only  the  objects  oil 
the  land  attracted  me.  but  those  also  in  the  air.  for  every 
one  of  the  birds  which  were  hovering  or  darting  about 
was  to  me  like  an  old  friend  seen  for  the  lirst  time.  I 
knew  them  all  well  from  books  and  from  specimens,  and 
had  hoped  for  years  to  see  them  living,  and  here  they 
were,  all  about  me.  in  great  numbers. 

And  one  of  the  birds  which  charmed  me  most,  coarse 
and  ugly  as  he  was.  and  savage  and  disagreeable  in  his 
manners,  was  the  frigate-pelican,  or,  as  I  prefer  to  call 
him,  the  man-of-war  bird.  You  can  see  for  yourself  by 
looking  at  the  engraving  on  the  next,  page  what  an 
inelegant,  ungraceful  object  he  is.  Notice  the  set  of 
nis  bead  and  neck,  as  well  as  the  manner  in  which  his 
wings  seem  to  be  pushed  up  against  his  side,  as  though 


they  might  he  some  other  bird's  wings  fastened  there  by 
mistake.  Just  look  at  that  fellow  in  the  background, 
with  his  wings  stretched  out  ;  yon  would  think  perhaps  he 
was  about  to  launch  himself  on'  for  flight.  No  such 
thintr.  1  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  he  does  it  for:  per- 
haps because  he  thinks  it  displays  his  natural  loveliness  to 
better  advantage.  I  have  seen  these  birds  sit  in  this  posi- 
tion for  a  longtime  without  moving,  and  then  quietly  fold 
them,  and  settle  down  like  the  ones  on  the  lower  branch. 

It  is  when  the  man-of-war  bird  is  in  motion  that  he 
shows  himself  in  his  own  true  character.  At  rest  he  is 
ungraceful,  but  the  instant  he  is  on  the  wini;-  all  that  has 
disappeared  as  if  by  magic.  You  can  see  that  there  he  is 
at  home.  Those  enormous  wings  spread  out  until  they 
reach  nearly  seven  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  and  every  one  of 
their  movements  is  full  not  only  of  smooth  and  decani 
sweeping,  but  also  of  a  power  that  comes  like  the  rushing 
of  the  wind.  Without  exception,  1  think  the  frigate-peli- 
can is  the  swiftest  bird  in  flight  that  I  have  ever  seen; 
I  kno\\  not  one  which  can  equal  him.  Perhaps  lean  give 
you  some  idea  of  this  wonderful  power  on  the  wing  in  no 
other  way  so  readily  as  by  telling  you  what  I  saw  that, 
day  in  Kingston  Harbor. 

As  we  came  up  the  long  stretch  from  Port  Royal  the 
frigate-pelicans  were  all  about  us  in  great  numbers,  and 
mi  ist  numerous  of  all  as  we  came  near  the  city.  We  were 
approaching  the  wharf:  the  engine  had  stopped  its  work- 
ing, and  of  course  the  ship  was  moving  very  slowly,  and  1 
had  a  perfectly  fair  opportunity  to  observe  their  actions. 
Many  other  birds  were  also  careering  about,  some  of  them 
screaming  loudly,  though  the  man-of-war  bird  scarcely 
ever  utters  a  sound  now-  and  then  a  hoarse  croak,  nothing 
more.  Near  the  steamer  I  saw  a  Cayenne  tern  dive,  and 

c up  with  a  lish  in  his  bill.  This  tern  is  a  bird  of  ex- 

tremelj  rapid  Might.  One  of  our  common  barn  swallows, 
1  know,  would  be  passed  by  it  with  ease,  and  I  feel  confident 
that  the  famous  u -\  rl'a  Icon,  so  noted  by  all  writers  because 
of  his  speed,  would  have  been  compelled  to  chase  this  par- 
ticular tern  with  bis  lish  half  a  mile  before  he  could  have 
overtaken  him.  But.  alas  for  the  poor  tern !  he  had  to 
deal  with  an  enemy  to  whom  the  gyrfalcou  would  have 
been  but.  a  plaything. 

A  man-of-war  bird  saw  him  as  he  rose  with  his  prey, 
and  in  his  usual  style— for  they  live  by  constant  rob- 
bery— determined  that  that  fish  should  be  his  own  at 
once.  The  tern  recognized  his  danger  on  the  instant,  and 
started  with  his  utmost  speed  to  escape.  The  pelican  fol- 
lowed on  his  track,  seeming  to  make  no  effort  in  flying, 
and  yet  the  superiority  of  his  speed  was  such  that,  though 
the  tern  seemed  only  like  a  white  flash  as  he  went  by  me, 
the  man-of-war  bird  gained  upon  him  as  if  he  had  been 
standing  still.  When  the  pursuer  passed  the  stern  of  the 
steamer,  where  I  was  sitting,  he  was  not  more  than  thirty 
feet  from  me,  and  I  well  recollect  the  almost  fearful  sound 
of  bis  dash  through  the  air.  I  can  compare  it  to  nothing 
but  the  rush  of  a  heavy  cannon-shot.  He  overtook  the 
tern  within  less  than  fifty  yards,  when  the  latter,  to  save 
himself,  dropped  his  fish,  and  went  off  to  catch  another. 
The  man-of-war  bird,  with  a  curve  as  graceful  as  could  be 
made  or  drawn,  swept  down  and  up  again,  bringing  the  fish 
in  his  bill,  having  caught  it  before  it  could  reach  tin-  water. 

This  bill  is  an  instrument  not  to  be  despised.  Its  snap 
is  like  that  of  a  steel-trap,  and  when  it  is  driven  by  the 
whole  weight  of  the  bird  it.  carries  off  what  it  sei/.es  almost 
as  a  small  steam-engine  would  do  it.  And  now  commenced 
a  struggle  in  which  I  rejoiced,  for  it  was  fair  justice. 
The  robber  was  not  to  have  his  ill-gotten  booty  simply 
because  he  had  frightened  a  miserable  Cayenne  tern  into 
dropping  it.  Not  at  all ;  there  were  other  claimants.  Not 
less  than  half  a  dozen  frigate-pelicans,  each  as  fierce  and 
savage  and  strong  as  himself,  had  witnessed  the  transac- 
tion, and  each  one  individually  resolved  that  that  fish  be- 
longed to  himself,  or,  at  least,  that  if  it  did  not  he  would 


72S 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VULUIIE  IV. 


MAN-OF-WAR   BIEDS    AT   REST. 


have  it  at  any  rate,  and  with  one  consent  they  dashed  at 
pelican  No.  1.  No  child's  play  now ;  no  trusting  to  speed, 
for  all  were  equal  at  that  game.  It  was  a  savage  fight. 
They  struck,  and  he  struck  back,  and  I  thought,  from  the 
sound  of  the  blows,  that  a  single  one  of  them  might  knock 
its  victiiii  into  the  water;  but  I  could  see  no  injury  done 
by  them. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tumult  I  saw  one  of  them  seize 
the  fish  with  his  beak  and  actually  force  it  away.  The 
only  result  was  that  now  the  whole  interest  centred  in 
pelican  No.  2,  and  the  blows  fell  thick  and  fast  o"ii  him, 
and  served  him  right,  I  thought.  Three  separate  times  I 
saw  the  fish  torn  away  in  the  fight,  and  at  last  in  some 
way  it  was  dropped,  and  as  the  struggling  and  angry  birds 
were  all  too  busy  in  abusing  one  another  to  seize  it,  it 
reached  the  water,  and  went  to  the  bottom  to  feed  the 
crabs.  I  had  been  sorry  that  the  unfortunate  tern  should 
lose  his  fish,  which  he  had  fairly  caught,  but  I  felt  no  sym- 
pathy for  any  of  this  fierce  band  that  had  been  fighting 
over  it.  But  I  think  my  sympathy  was  not  needed,  for 
the  event  was  one  so  common  with  them  that  doubtless  in 
another  minute  it  was  forgotten.  I  presently  saw  the 
same  birds  pursuing  their  flight  around  the  steamer  as 
quietly  as  though  no  disturbance  had  occurred. 

Let  me  tell  you  another  little  story  to  illustrate  their 
wonderful  power  on  the  wing.  A  thunder- squall  was 
coming  up  from  the  southwest,  and  the  appalling  black 


ness  of  the  clouds  showed  plainly  that  it  would  be  one  of 
terrible  force.  Port  Royal  and  Fort  Augusta  had  disap- 
peared, completely  hidden  by  the  squall  as  it  advanced. 
Even  the  birds  had  taken  the  alarm  and  fled  to  escape  its 
fury.  I  noticed  that  every  one  had  disappeared  except 
two  or  three  frigate-pelicans.  One  of  them  in  particular 
I  watched,  because  he  was  close  to  me.  The  roar  of  the 
wind  as  it  approached  was  frightful,  but,  notwithstanding 
the  feeling  of  awe,  I  did  not  take  my  eyes  from  the  bird, 
for  I  wished  to  see  what  he  would  do.  I  was  myself  shel- 
tered behind  a  heavy  brick  wall,  which  I  knew  would  pro- 
tect me. 

When  the  full  fury  of  the  tornado  struck  him  he  yield- 
ed to  it  for  a  moment,  as  though  taken  by  surprise,  and 
then,  mustering  his  strength,  he  faced  the  blast,  and  darted 
against  it  with  a  speed  and  force  that  carried  him  onward 
in  triumph.  He  did  not  fly  along  the  water,  but  went  ob- 
liquely upward,  until  he  was  lost  to  my  sight,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  went  onward  until  he  had  risen  above, 
the  region  of  the  clouds  and  the  squall  into  the  calm  at- 
mosphere above,  where  he  floated  quietly  until  the  tumult 
had  passed  away. 

The  man -of -war  bird  seldom  comes  along  our  own 
coast  further  north  than  South  Carolina,  though  stragglers 
may  occasionally  reach  the  Chesapeake.  But  as  we  go 
to  the  south  they  become  more  abundant,  and  on  the  Flori- 
da Keys  are  very  common. 


SEPTEMBER   18.  1883. 


HARPER'S   YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


729 


A    LITTLE    SELFISH. 


^  JOHN'S  PRESENT. 

BY  MARY  DENSEL. 

IT  was  iii  vain  that  John  tried  to  gain  his  sister's  notice. 
There  she  stood,  rapt  in  delight,  before  a  pile  of  mous- 
seliue  de  laine,  which  had  just  come  from  Aunt  Maria, 
who  lived  in  the  city.      John  thrust  his  head  in  at  the 


"sink-room"  door,  and  gave  a  loud  "ahem!"  But  Ka- 
tinka's  eyes  never  moved  from  the  mousseline  de  laine, 
which,  I  regret  to  say,  was  of  a  lively  green  with  "polka 
dots"  of  yellow.  Katinka  thought  it  beautiful. 

"And  so  much  of  it,  grandma!  I  can  have  an  over- 
skirt,  can't  I  ?" 

Katinka  clasped  her  hands  and  breathed  hard  as  she 


730 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG. PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


put  this  question.  It  had  long  been  her  great  desire 
to  wear  an  over-skirt,  with  points  on  the  bottom  and  some- 
thing in  the  back  breadth  to  make  it  stand  out  quite  •'stilt' 
and  genteel." 

••So,"  explained  Katinka,  giving  her  flimsy  gown  a 
flirt,  and  glancing  rapturously  over  her  shoulder. 

Just  then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  front  door,  and,  as 
grandma  went  to  answer  it,  there  came  a  sharp  ''  Hi,  Ka- 
tinka!" from  the  "  sink-room." 

Katinka  became  suddenly  aware  of  John's  face  with 
one  eye  screwed  into  a  knowing  wink,  and  of  John  s 
somewhat  grimy  hand  beckoning  mysteriously. 

"Sh-sh-sh!"  whispered  John.  "Come  here,  Katinka- 
tink-tink." 

Katinka  tiptoed  across  the  kitchen.  There  was  evident- 
ly a  great  secret  on  hand.  John  would  hardly  speak 
above  his  breath,  even  when  they  had  reached  the  "  seed- 
room, "and  In-  pointed  to  an  empty  flour  barrel. 

"  I'm  going1  to  make  an  arm-chair  for  grandma,  to  give 
her  on  her  birthday  next  Saturday.  It's  to  be  made  out 
of  this  barrel."  announced  John. 

"  You  don't  say  so!      How  perfectly  splendid!" 

"Yes,"  said  John,  pleased  with  this  tribute  of  sympathy. 
"I'm  going  to  make  an  easy-chair.  You  can  help  if  you 
like.  Only  it's  to  be  my  present,  mind." 

"  Of  course,''  assented  Katinka. 

"The  first  thing  is  to  get  this  barrel  sawed,  so  as  to 
leave  part  of  it  for  a  back,  and  to  make  a  place  for  the 
seat.  I  guess  the  saw's  on  the  bench  in  the  barn 
chamber." 

Crafty  John  well  knew  whose  were  the  "  feet  that  ran 
on  willing  errands."  The  saw  was  soon  at  hand.  But 
John  had  changed  his  mind. 

' '  I  can  110  more  cut  these  cross-grained  staves  than  I  can 
fly  over  the  moon.  See,  Katink,  they  split  if  you  touch 
'em.  I  know  my  man.  Jotliam  Bixby  '11  do  it  for  me, 
and  fit  a  seat  into  the  bargain.  Only" — John  rumpled 
his  hair  and  meditated— "  only  he  might  ask  a  trifle  for  his 
trouble,  and  I'm  saving  up  my  money  for  Thanksgiving 
-  \\  hat  I  don't  need  to  support  myself  with." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Katinka,  promptly.  "I'm  going  to 
buy  pop-corn  balls." 

"They're  cheap,"  interrupted  John,  hastily.  "  Besides. 
I  don't  believe  Jotham  would  charge  more  than  ten  cents." 

"  Perhaps  I  might  spare  that."  said  Katinka,  with  still 
a  little  hesitation  in  her  voice. 

"Really,  Katinka-tink-tink,  you're  almost  as  nice  and 
satisfactory  as  a  boy,"  said  he.  "You'll  never  regret 
using  that  ten  cents  when  you  see  grandmother  sitting  so 
lively  and  comfortable  in  my  present." 

Now  John's  approval  was  as  the  breath  of  life  to  his 
sister,  and  with  a  happy  heart  she  brought  a  dime  from 
the  small  hoard  which  she  kept  in  a  box  under  her  bed, 
cafe  from  burglars  and  ghosts. 

The  two  hoisted  the  barrel  into  a  wheelbarrow,  when 
"John  !  John  !"  came  from  the  house. 

"Tin  re's  grandma  calling,"  said  John. 

"(.)  iiiL  !  O  me!"  cried  Katinka.  all  in  a  flutter.  "Run 
and  meet  her  before  she  sees  us,  John.  I  can  push  this 
wheelbarrow.  Run!  run  quick  !" 

( )lf  went  John.  Away  rattled  the  wheelbarrow  with 
its  burden.  Long  before  John  arrived  on  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion Katinka  had  explained  matters  to  Jotliam  Bixhv. 
who  was  ready  to  saw  the  barrel  into  a  most  inviting 
shape,  and  even  to  lit  a.  hoard  seat  to  the  chair.  What 
was  better,  fat.  good-natured,  chuckling- Jotham  would  not 
t.-.ke  a  cent  for  his  pains. 

"  You're  welcome,  bless  you,"  said  lie. 

"Now  you  need  a  cushion  and  a  coverin',"  added  Jo- 
tham. "  Start'  'em  with  wool.  'Bijah  Crawley's  been 
shearing;  he'll  let  you  have  some  wool." 

John's  face  lengthened.  'Bijah  Crawley  was  not  good- 
natured,  nor  did  he  chuckle.  Besides,  he  and  John  were 


not  011  good  terms  since  the  day  when  John  had  nick- 
named 'Bijah's  uncouth  soil  and  heir  "  Caterpillar— a 
crawly  creeter." 

'Bijah  had  threatened  to  ''take  it  out"  on  John.  But 
surely  110  one  could  have  the  heart  to  take  anything  out 
on  dear  little  Katinka. 

"Ahem!  Katinka-tink-tink,  what  do  you  think,  quick- 
er '11  a  wink.  Suppose  you  should  go — where  ?— don't  you 
l;nou  I-  and  say  to  that  fool.  'Give  me  some  wool.'  Not 
that  I  would  call  any  fellow  a  fool,  except  in  poetry,"  add- 
ed John,  apologetically. 

"But  I'm  afraid  of  'Bijah  Crawley,"  remonstrated  Ka- 
tinka. "  He's  dreadful  cross." 

"  Oh,  very  well.  I  suppose  grandma  needn't  have  any 
birthday  present.  She  can  sit  in  a  hard  chair.  Of  course 
1  sha'n't  tell  her  how  disobliging  you  are.  Katinka." 

John's  face  was  flushed.      His  tone  was  exceeding  bitter. 

Katinka  began  to  move  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the 
Crawley  cottage. 

"Seeing  Jotham  didn't  charge."  John  called  after  her, 
"you  can  have  that  dime  you  gave  me  to  pay  'Bijah 
with." 

Whether  it  were  Katiiika's  blushes,  or  her  timid,  trem- 
bling tones,  which  softened  'Bijah  Crawley's  heart,  I  can 
not  say.  but  the  grutt'  old  man  consented  to  let  her  fill  her 
apron  with  wool. 

"And  how  much  shall  I  pay';"  asked  Katinka.  finger- 
ing her  ten-cent  piece. 

"Wa'al,"  said  'Bijah,  drawing  the  back  of  his  hand 
across  his  mouth,  "I  cal'late  about  fifty  cents." 

Katinka's  eyes  and  mouth  opened  in  dismay. 

"Those  isn't  common  slice]),"  said  'Bijah.  "But  seeiii' 
it's  you,  I'll  cheat  myself,  and  call  it  forty  cents." 

Forty  cents!  That  meant  every  penny  in  Katinka's 
box — every  single  penny.  Katinka  had  counted  on  hav- 
ing such  a  grand  Thanksgiving,  and  had  even  dreamed 
that  I iy  economy  she  might  eke  out  enough  money  to  buy 
a  yellow  and  green  ribbon  to  wear  with  her  beautiful  new 
dress. 

But  what  would  John  say  if  she  returned  without  the 

Wool  ' 

"I've  only  ten  cents  here,  Mr.  'Bijah  Crawley."  said 
she,  wistfully,  "but  I'll  bring  the  rest  to-morrow,  honest- 
ly. Please  let  me  have  the  wool." 

'Bijah  did  so,  and  Katinka  carried  it  home  in  her  apron. 

"  You're  a  regular  beauty,  Katinka-tink-tink  !" 

That  was  praise  indeed  from  John,  and  when  he  added, 
"I'm  glad  you  happened  to  be  my  sister,"  Katinka's  cup 
was  full,  and  she  was  more  than  ready  to  hold  a  big  nail, 
which  was  to  fasten  two  of  the  staves,  that  John  might 
have  a  better  "go"  at  it  with  his  hammer. 

"  I  really  feel  quite  manifest,"  said  she,  gleefully. 

"Quite  what  ?"  asked  John,  pausing  with  the  hammer 
ill  mid  aii-. 

"Manifest — like  a  man,  you  know,"  explained  Katinka. 

John  gave  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  brought  the  hammer 
down  with  a  bang. 

Oh,  John!  John!  how  could  you  be  so  reckless?  Oh. 
the  dear  little  soft  fingers!  Oh,  the  cruel  hammer ! 

"Ah  '."  cried  Katinka;  and  then  clapped  both  hands  over 
her  mouth.  She  would  not  scream,  lest  grandma  should 
hear  and  so  learn  John's  secret.  But  the  pain  was  terri- 
ble. Katinka's  face  grew  very  white,  and  she  could  hard- 
ly stand  for  dizziness.  John  was  frightened  enough.  He 
ran  for  water.  He  put  his  arm  around  his  sister,  and 
1»  '."M-ed  her  to  lean  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"Jimiiiy  cracky!"  he  kept  muttering. 

Never   mind."  whispered  the  pale  lips.      "I'd   most 
rail/cr  lie  hurt,  when  you're  so  kind  to  me,  John." 

At  that  John's  feelings  were  fairly  too  much  for  him. 
He  gave  a  tremendous  sniff,  and  even  had  to  demean  him- 
self by  borrowing  Katinka's  handkerchief. 

"Seems  to  be  something  in  mv  eves."  said  he. 


SEPTEMBER  18,  1SS3. 


BARTER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


731 


There  was  "  something"  in  his  eyes.  But  not  dust,  nor 
yet  a  splinter. 

"  How  jolly  it  would  be  if  I  had  some  casters  oil  that 
chair;"  remarked  he.  by  way  of  changing  the-  conversa- 
tion. "It  won't  move  easily  without  them.  I  declare 
that  <hair  niiiKt  have  casters.'1 

Katinka's  mind  gave  a  jump  this  way  and  that  way. 

"There  are  the  casters  on  my  bed."  said  she. 

"  I  declare  !  so  there  are."  cried  John.  'Now  1  never 
thought  of  them  when  I  spoke,  but  really  I  don't  see 
\\  hat  good  they  do  the  bed." 

"  They  only  make  it  roll  easily  when  1  sweep  under  it. 
That's  no  matter,  though.  I  can  get  down  on  my  knees 
and  creep  under  the  bed  with  a  dusl  pan." 

Katinka  smiled  at  John's  pleasure;  so  while  she  still 
nursed  her  wounded  baud.  John  was  screwing  the  carters 
on  his  chair.  The  effect  was  charming.  The  chair  could 
he  trundled  hither  and  thither  with  scarcely  any  ell'orl. 

And  now  arose  a.  most  momentous  question.  Where 
should  a.  covering  for  the  seat  and  back  be  found  .'  All 
that  day  and  the  next  Katinka  and  John  pondered  over 
the  problem,  but  ill  vain.  None  of  the  hits  of  cloth  in 
L'l'andma's  piece-bag  began  to  be  large-  enough.  As  for 
buying  new  material,  that  was  out  of  the  <|iicstioii.  All 
Katinka's  money  was  gone.  As  for  John's— well,  he  \\as 
saving  his  for  Thanksgiving-day.  It  almosl  seemi  d  as  if, 
at  ils  last  stage,  the  present  must  be  given  up. 

After  she  went  to  bed  at  night  Katinka's  pu/./.lcd  brain 
worked  on.  She  hardly  knew  when  she  fell  asleep,  but 
suddenly,  about  the  middle  of  (he  night,  she  sat  bolt-up- 
right in  bed,  wide  awake.  What  had  she  dreamed  .' 

"Whv,  1  wouldn't  give  him  thill  for  the  world!"  she 
said  out  loud. 

Whether  the  same  idea  had  visited  John  in  dreams  is  a 
question,  but  he  nodded  at  Katinka  during  breakfast,  and 
"Come  out  here"  whispered  he. 

They  stood  in  front  of  that  unfinished  chair. 

"  It's  a  shame  to  give  it  up  now,"  said  John. 

"  It  is,"  said  Katinka. 

Then  John  paused,  and  for  the  first  and  only  time  in 
his  life  was  actually  embarrassed. 

Katinka's  chin  quivered. 

"John,"  said  she,  softly,  "I  thought— 

"Katinka,"  breathed  John,  "/thought 

Both  faltered,  and  gazed  at  one  another.  At  last  John 
opened  his  lips  and  spake:  "If  I  was  a  girl  I'd  never  wear 
one  of  those  silly  over-skirts,"  said  he. 

Katinka  sighed. 

"Fancy  me  wi;h  a  llounre  on  the  bottom  of  my  coat, 
and  a  puffy  concern  on  behind!"  continued  John,  soaring 
into  the  realms  of  imagination. 

"It  would  be  funny,"  admitted  Katinka. 

"  Sally  Peters  tore  her  over-skirt  the  very  last  time  we 
played  'I  spy,'"  continued  John.  "Oh,  I  declare  I'm 
thankful  I  wasn't  born  a  girl,  to  care  for  nothing  but  frills 
and  fixings,  and  looking  like  a  stiff -jointed  doll  that's 
afraid  to  move  for  fear  of  spoiling  her  fine  clothes.  Why, 
I'd  rather  be  a  peacock,  and  done  with  it." 

Now  this  speech  was  terribly  unjust.  Katinka's  gowns 
were  always  plain  as  plain  could  be.  But  John's  "  wing- 
ed words''  bore  a  sting,  as  that  young  rascal  knew  well. 

Katinka  turned  away,  and  before  long  returned,  look- 
ing very  grave,  but  bearing  in  her  hands  the  green  and 
yellow  mousseline  de  laine. 

"Take  what  you  need,"  said  she,  patiently. 

But  soon  her  interest  in  sewing  together  the  breadths 
for  the  back,  in  hemming  the  ruffle  which  draped  the  low- 
er part  of  the  chair,  swallowed  up  all  other  feelings,  and 
when  at  last  the  work  was  fully  done,  and  John,  with 
both  hands  thrust  into  his  trousers  pockets,  beamed  upon 
her  with  approbation,  Katinka's  face  was  fairly  aglow. 

How  inviting  was  that  soft  cushioned  seat!  How  sup- 
porting were  the  padded  arm-rests!  How  easily  the  cast- 


ers rolled !  And  as  for  the  covering,  it  was  really  enough 
to  drive  away  melancholy  just  to  look  at  its  gleaming 
"  polka"  dots. 

"John,  how  could  yon  ever  have  thought  of  such  a 
be-au-tiful  present!"  cried  Katinka.  lost  in  admiration  of 
the  superior  intellect  which  had  planned  this  work  of  art. 

She  could  hardly  wait  for  Saturday,  so  eager  was  she 
to  behold  grandma's  surprise  and  pleasure.  And  indeed 
grandma  had  never  suspected  such  a  treat.  She  could 
hardly  express  her  thanks  to  her  thoughtful  grandson. 

"Why,  who  ever  made  the  frame  for  you  .'"  asked  she. 

"Jotham  Bixhy  sawed  the  staves.  Katinka  wheeled 
the  barrel  down  to  him."  said  John. 

"Katinka  wheeled  it  down  .'" 

"  I  was  busy  at  the  moment,"  explained  John. 

"Oh!"  said  grandma.  "And  where  did  you  get  the 
wool  to  stutl'  it  '." 

"I  bought  it  of 'Bijah  Crawley.  There.  Katinka.  did 
you  remember  to  pay  him  ;" 

Katinka  nodded. 

"Oh!"  said  grandma,  a  gleam  of  intelligence  shooting 
from  behind  her  spectacles.  "Katinka.  why  have  you 
kept  your  thumb  done  up  so  many  days  .'" 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  hit  her,"  exclaimed  John.  "You 
see  she  was  holding  a  nail  for  me  to  drive  it  in  better." 

"Oh!"  said  grandma  again.  "And  here  are  casters,  I 
declare  !  \V here  did  you  get  t  he  casters,  my  son  ;" 

"  Katinka  was  sure  she  didn't  need  them  oil  her  bed. '' 

"(lh!  And  the  covering.'"  Grandma  peered  hard  at 
the  green  and  yellow  mousseline  de  laine.  "  Where  did 
the  covering  come  from  '.  It  seems  to  me- 

"I  and  Katinka  like  a  plain  gown  best."  interrupted 
John.  "There,  grandma,  Katinka  has  helped  me  all 
along.  She's  as  good  as  a  boy;  better,  maybe,  in  some  re- 
spects. But  you  must  remember,  grandma,"  he  ended, 
stoutly  —  "you  must  remember  it's  111  IJ  present." 

"  Yes.  it's  John's  present,''  declared  Katinka,  earnestly. 

Grandma  nodded,  and  all  she  said  was  "Oh!" 


HOW  TO  MAKE  A   11OAT   WITH  A  SCREW- 
PROPELLER. 

BY    F.   C  H  A  S  E  M  O  H  E. 

TO  make  a  model  steamboat  that  will  go  is  the  ambition 
of  many  boys,  but.  the  high  price  of  engine  and  boiler 
prevents  them  from  doing  so.  The  instructions  here  given 
will  enable  any  boy  to  make  for  himself,  by  the  exercise  of 
a  little  ingenuity,  at  a  very  trifling  cost,  the  machinery  for 
a  model  screw  steamboat  which  may  be  fitted  into  any 
craft,  the  rigging  of  which  may  have  been  wrecked  off 
the  dangerous  coast  of  the  duck  pond. 

First  you  must  procure  your  boat;  but  if  you  should 
wish  to  make  it  yourself,  remember  that  it  must  be  very 
light,  and  hollowed  out  as  thin  as  possible.  Let  it  be 
twenty-four  inches  long,  four  inches  wide  at  midships, 
and  three  and  a  half  inches  deep.  The  stern-post  should 
be  about  an  inch  and  a  half  within  the  stern,  raking,  and 
two  and  a  half  inches  high,  as  marked  in  Fig.  1.  Fast- 
en a  strip  of  lead  one-eighth  of  an  inch  thick  along  the 
bottom  of  the  keel.  The  bows  should  be  sharp,  and  the 
boat  should  have  a  clean  run  aft.  When  it  is  finished 
paint  it,  and  when  dry  put  it. into  water,  and  mark  on 
the  stern-post  the  height  that  the  water  comes.  Now  you 
must  bore  a  hole  in  the  stern-post  right  through  into 
the  boat  in  the  direction  of  the  top  of  the  stem.  This 
must  be  done  with  a  red-hot  wire;  the  hole  is  to  be  three- 
eighths  of  an  inch  across. 

The  next  thing  to  do  is  to  get  a  brass  tube  from  the  gas- 
fitter's,  or  get  a  tinman  to  make  you  one  of  tin.  three- 
eighths  of  an  inch  inside  measurement.  This  tube  must 
be  long  enough  to  reach  from  the  stern-post  to  three  and 
a  half  inches  beyond  the  top  of  the  stem.  Four  inches 


732 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIG.  1. 


from  one  end  of  this  tube  solder  a  strip  half  an  inch  wide 
and  one  and  three-quarter  inches  long,  bending  the  mid- 
dle of  it  half  round  the  tube,  and  bending  the  ends  out- 
ward ;  punch  a  hole  in  each  end  of  this  strip ;  in  this  end 
of  the  tube  cut  four  teeth  like  saw-teeth  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  deep,  like  Fig.  2. 

Put  this  tube  in  the  boat  thus:,  push  the  end  without 
the  tin  strip  through  the  hole  in  the  stern-post  from  the 
inside  of  the  boat,  so  that  the  tube  is  flush  with  the  wood, 
and  fasten  the  other  end  by  driving  tacks  through  the 
holes  in  the  tin  strip  into  the  boat.  Put  some  putty  round 
the  tube,  where  it  goes  through  the  wood,  to  keep  the  wa- 
ter out.  Now  make  the  deck  of  board  one-eighth  of  an 
inch  thick,  plane  it,  and  fix  it  in  its  place  by  pins,  leaving 
a  gunwale  of  half  an  inch  all  round.  Stop  up  with  putty, 
and  mark  with  a  pencil  the  boards  on  the  deck. 

Bore  a  hole 


FIG.  2. 


near  the  stern 
a  sixteenth  of 
an  inch  wide 
right  through 
the  deck  and 
boat,  coming 
out  under  the 

counter  one  inch  from  the  stern-post.  This  is  the  rud- 
der-hole. To  make  the  rudder  get  a  piece  of  brass 
wire  one-sixteenth  of  an  inch,  and  six  inches  long;  cut 
your  rudder  out  of  tin,  and  solder  it  on  to  the  wire  so  that 
the  heel  of  the  rudder  is  flush  with  one  end  of  the  wire. 
Now  push  the  other  end  up  through  the  hole  in  the  count- 
er, and  bend  it  down  to  the  deck;  this  will  form  the  tiller, 
and  by  pressing  tightly  on  to  the  deck  will  keep  the  rudder 
firm  and  in  its  place  for  steering. 

Two  inches  abaft  the  middle  of  the  deck  cut  a  hole 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  in  diameter  for  the  chimney, 
which  is  a  tube  of  tin  three-quarters  of  an  inch  in  diame- 
ter and  four  inches  long.  Bore  two  more  holes  in  the 
deck,  three-eighths  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  one  half-way 
between  the  stem  and  chimney,  the  other  half-way  be- 
tween the  rudder  and  chimney ;  these  are  for  the  masts, 
which  are  made  of  wood,  and  should  stand  about  nine 
inches  above  deck;  put  a  pin  into  the  lower  end  of  each 
mast,  and  cut  the  head  otf,  leaving  about  half  an  inch  of 
the  pin  projecting ;  put  the  masts  in  their  places,  and  the 
pins  will  keep  them  firm  by  being  pushed  into  the  bottom 
of  the  boat. 

Make  the  propeller  out  of  a  circular  piece  of  stout  tin 
two  inches  in  diameter,  cut 
as  in  Fig.  3.  The  dark  parts 
are  to  be  cut  away.  The  pro- 
jections are  to  be  three-quar- 
ters of  an  inch  long.  Punch 
a  hole  one  -  sixteenth  of  an 
inch  in  the  centre,  and  fix 
a  piece  of  brass  wire  one-six- 
teenth of  an  inch,  two  inches 
long,  in  the  hole,  to  form  an 
axle  for  the  propeller.  Twist 
each  of  the  fans  of  the  screw 
out  of  the  plane  of  the  circle 
about  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  in  FIG.  3. 


FIG.  J. 


the  manner  of  the  sails  of  a  windmill,  as  in  Fig.  4.  Now 
make  two  little  wooden  plugs  three-quarters  of  an  inch 
long,  and  half  an  inch  wide  at  one  end,  tapering  to  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  at  the  other.  Bore  a  hole  through  each 
from  end  to  end  one-sixteenth  of  an  inch  wide.  Take  the 
propeller,  and  put  a  glass  head  that  will  fit  easily  on  the 
wire,  and  push  the  wire  through  one  of  the  wooden  plugs 
from  the  large  end  ;  bend  the  wire  into  a  loop  at  the  small 
end. 

Now  take  another  piece  of  wire  two  and  a  half  inch- 
es long,  and  make  a  similar  loop  at  one  end,  and  put  the 
other  end  through  the  other  little  plug  from 
the  small  end,  and  bend  the  wire  into  a  handle 
(Fig.  5).     Now  the  only  thing  we  want  is  the 
power.     This  is  a  strip  of  strong  elastic  about 
three  and  a  half  feet  long  and  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  wide ;  tie  the  ends  together  to  make  a  band 
— a  large  stout  elastic 
ring  will  do,  or  two 
smaller  rings  looped 
together.      Fasten   a 
string  to  the  elastic, 
and  pass  the  string 
through  the  tube  in 
the    boat    from    the 

stern  end ;  hook  the  loop  on  the  propeller  wire 
into  the  elastic,  and  push  the  wooden  plug  into 
the  tube  so  that  the  screw  is  clear  of  the  rud- 
der; draw  the  elastic  by  the  string  through 
the  other  end  of  the  tube,  and  hook  the  wire  in  the  other 
plug  into  it;  take  off  the  string,  and  push  the  plug  into  its 
place.  You  must  cut  the  plug  away  so  that  the  handle 
can  catch  in  the  teeth  cut  in  the  tube.  Now  the  boat  is 
ready  for  use. 

To  use  it  wind  up  the  elastic  by  the  handle  at  the 
end  of  the  tube,  holding  the  screw  firmly  with  the  other 

hand.  As  soon 
as  wound  up 
enough  set  the 
rudder,  and  put 
the  boat  into 
the  water;  re- 
lease the  screw, 
and  the  boat 
will  go  until  the  elastic  is  quite  unwound.  The  distance 
it  will  travel  will  be  regulated  by  the  extent  to  which 
the  elastic  is  wound  up. 


FIG.  5. 


THE  HUNTER-MAN. 


riMIHEE  little  bears  went  out  one  day, 
JL    Before  the  sun  got  high, 
To  gather  berries  in  the  woods 
To  make  a  berry  pie. 

But  there  they  saw  a  hunter-man, 

Who  had  a  monstrous  gun; 
He  scared  them  out  of  all  their  wits, 

And  my  !  how  they  did  run  ! 

They  never  stopped  till  they  got  home 

And  screamed  it  to  their  'ma, 
Who  said  'twas  very  dreadful  news, 

And  they  must  call  their  pa. 

Old  papa  bear  was  very  brave; 

He  took  his  gun  straightway, 
And  hastened  with  them  to  the  woods 

That  hunter-man  to  slay. 

But  when  they  reached  the  berry  patch 

He  laughed  aloud  to  see 
That  what  had  caused  them  such  a  fright 

Was  nothing  but  a  tree. 

And  very  much  ashamed  were  they 

To  know  that  they  had  run 
Because  they  thought  an  old  tree  trunk 

A  hunter  with  a  gun. 


SEPTEMBER  IS.  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


733 


.-• 


;^P 


THE    BEARS    AND    THE    HUNTER-MAN.— [SEE  POEM  ON  PAGE  733.] 


734 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


Friday  we  started  on  our  return.    On  our  way  we 
visited  Tories'  Den,  which  i-  said  to  have  been 


HER  PARASOL. 
"I  haven't  any  parasol," 

The  little  lady  said  ; 
"  But  I  will  take  an  autumn  leaf, 

Tu  hold  above  my  head. 

••  And  mi  <>ne  gave  me  a  bouquet; 

But  little  do  I  care. 
When  golden-rod  and  asters  bright 

Are  blooming  everywhere." 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

ORAN,  ALGERIA,  AFRICA. 

I  am  a  little  American  liny  ten  years  old.  I 
am  out  here  with  my  two  aunts,  mie  uncle,  and 
ray  grandmother.  Papa  sent  me  here  because 
he  thought  it  would  he  good  fm-  my  health,  and 
I  ei.uld  learn  the  French.  There  are  very  curi- 
ous things  to  be  seen  here.  I  can  not  describe 
tin-in  tn  ynii.  for  I  am  afraid  my  letter  will  be 
too  long."  Papa  sends  me  HAIU-KU'S  YorM;  PKO- 
IM.E  mid  St.  \  /.-//.(/a*,  and  I  like  them  both  very 


.  .  , 

imich.  It  I  know  French  when  I  come  back  I 
am  going  to  have  a  pony.  Good-by.  Yourfaith- 
ful  reader,  PERCY  H.  M. 

Well.  di-;ir.  I  hope  you  may  speak  and  write 
French  well  enough  to  earn  the  pony  by  the  time 
v  >ii  go  home.  A  word  here  to  some  i  if  my  readers 
win  i.  like  Percy,  are  afraid  todt  -scribe  what  they 
see  around  them  because  they  think  it  will  make 
their  letters  too  long.  A  letter  is  never  too  long 
if  it  tells  us  about  scenes  and  people  which  we 
want  to  hear  of,  about  queer  customs,  strange 
animals,  or  anything  different  from  our  everj 
day  live-.  A  bright  boy  in  Algeria  ought  t"  see 
a  grea  I  many  things  about  which  it  would  please 
American  children  to  read.  So  Percy  may  write 
another  letter  if  he  chooses. 


A.  H.  P. 

such  an  expedition  is  very  pleasant,  and  I  think 
boys  learn  to  be  manly  when  they  share  the  fa- 
ti-me-  "t  camping  out.  and.  of  course,  give  the 
easiest  and  best  places  to  the  ladies  and  the  lit- 
tle ones.  It  is  a  nice  way,  too,  to  freshen  up  geog- 
raphy and  history.  


SALEM,  NORTH  CAROLINA. 

I  want  tn  tell  the  readers  of  the  Post-office  Box 
about  atrip  I  took  among  the  Sauratown  Mount- 
ains, in  the  western  part  jf  this  State.  \Ve  camp- 
ed out  at  night,  and  from  the  time  I  left  sal--m 
to  the  time  I  came  home  again  1  did  not  set  foot 
in  a  house  of  any  kind.  We  staid  nearly  a  week. 
The  first  night  we  camped  out  on  a  large  grass- 
plat  by  the  side  of  the  road.  There  were  nine 
boys  in  the  party.  The  larger  boys,  including 
myself,  slept  in  the  hack  and  baggage-wagon,  or 
on  the  ground.  The  ladies,  with  the  girls  and 
smaller  boys,  slept  in  the  tent. 

The  next  day  we  passed  through  Danbury,  and 
after  a  while  passed  by  Piedmont  springs.  We 
were  going  to  a  place  called  the  Cascades.  v>  here 
we  were  to  spend  the  night.  The  Cascades  is  a 
beautiful  place.  The  entire  fall  is  about  the  height 
of  tifty  feet,  and  the  rocks  on  cither  side  rise  one 
hundred  feet  or  more  in  the  air.  At  the  bottom 
of  the  fall  is  a  clear  pool  perhaps  fifty  feet  in 
diameter.  We  did  not  camp  right  at  the  Cas- 
cades, but  up  on  a  hill.  I  wish  I  could  send  you 
a  picture  of  the  place,  but  I  can't.  We  made 
this  point  our  head-quarters,  and  from  here  would 
make  trips  to  the  various  places  <  if  interest  around 
us,  and  always  come  back  to  the  camp  to  spend 
the  night. 

One  day  we  went  up  on  More's  Knob.  The 
view  is  beautiful.  We  could  see  the  Dan  River 
winding  around  in  the  valley  far  below  us.  There 
once  was  a  go  vermin -nt  observatory  on  the  Knob, 
but  it  was  blown  off,  I  believe.  We  were  going 
to  Hanging  Rock,  but  wen-  sotiivd  from  our  trip 
to  More's  Knob  thai  we  gave  it  up  We  spent 
tliri-'-  nights  at  the  Cascades,  and  did  not  want 
to  leave  the  place.  However,  before  dinner  on 


I  am  very  glad  that  Mrs.  Lillie  is  telling  anoth- 
er-t..r\  a-  I  liked  "Xan"  very  much.  We  had 
a  great  deal  <  -f  fun  getting  up  tableaux.  One  of 
them  was  Maud  Muller,  and  we  arranged  the 
scenery  very  prettily.  I  will  tell  you  how  wedid 
it  The  boys  went  into  the  woods  and  cut  oil 
some  branches,  and  then  we  got  a  cloth  horse 
and  fixed  them  on  it :  we  got  some  hay  from  the 
stable  for  the  floor;  then  we  took  a  wooden  tub 
and  almost  covered  it  with  rocks  We  obtained 
a  piece  of  pipe  and  put  it  through  the  branches, 
and  while  the  tableau  wa-  going  on  some  one 
stood  behind  and  poured  water  through  it  into 
the  tub.  and  Maud  Midler  was  kneeling  beside  II. 
"el  tin"  the  water  for  the  Judge,  rake  in  hand. 
ii  was  the  prettiest  of  all  the  tableaux.  Forthe 
lion-c  scenery  we  ;;ot  another  cloth  horse  and 
draped  it  witii  curtains,  ami  pulled  it  before  the 
other.  The  tableaux  were  a  great  success.  \\  e 
had  ten  of  them.  I  am  afraid  that  if  I  write  any 
more  my  letter  will  be  too  long.  Can  I  get  "Mil- 
dred's Bargain"  in  a  volume  by  itself?  EDITH. 

You  must  have  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
with  your  arrangements,  but  it  was  worth  while. 
since  your  entertainment  was  so  successful.  Who 
took  the  part  of  the  pretty  maiden 'r  Was  it  i  mi- 
Edith?  And  did  the  picture  prompt  any  of  the 
children  to  read  Whittier's  beautiful  ballad— one 
of  the  daintiest  and  teuderest  of  all  the  dear 
pod's  songs? 

".Maud  Muller,  on  a  summer's  day. 
Raked  the  meadow,  sweet  with  hay. 

"Beneath  her  torn  hat  glowed  the  wealth 
(if  simple  beauty  and  rustic  health. 

"The  Judge  rode  slowly  down  the  lane. 
>IIIIM  >t  him:  his  horse's  chestnut  mane. 

"He  drew  his  bridle  in  the  shade 
Of  the  apple-trees,  to  greet  the  maid, 

"  And  ask  a  draught  from  the  spring  that  tlowcd 
Through  the  meadow,  across  the  road. 

••  she  stooped  wh.-n-  the  i 1  Airing  bubblt  d  up, 

And  filled  for  him  her  small  tin  cup." 

1  would  like  to  have  you  read  it  all.  but  I  have 
not  room  to  quote  any  more  "  Mildred's  Bar- 
gain." and  other  ,-tories  by  Mrs.  Lillie,  are  pub- 
lished by  Messrs.  Harper  iV  Ill-others  iu  a  bijou 
of  a  volume,  and  the  price  is  one  dollar.  There 
are  no  brighter  nor  better  books  for  girls  than 
t  hi  >-e  which  this  favorite  author  has  written. 


spelling  a  very  hard  word.  It  was  m-e-a-s-1-e-s, 
and  oh  !  how  proud  I  felt,  for  there  were  boys  in 
our  class,  Myron,  as  well  as  girls.  Have  you  both 
girls  and  boys  in  yours ': 


Would  you  likea  letter  from  a  little  boy  in  Ver- 
mont ?  1  have  no  pets  except  one  cat,  who>e 
name  is  Polar  Bear.  I  liked  "Raising  the  'Pearl'  " 
very  much.  I  think  Jimmy  Brown  writes  fun- 
ny stories.  We  are  building  a  nice  new  school- 
house,  and  I  expect  to  go  to  school  in  it  in  Sep- 
tember. I  go  to  Sabbath-school.  I  have  two 
brothers;  my  oldest  brother  is  going  to  college 
tin-  tall,  and  my  youngest  brother  to  the  semi 
nar)  1  am  seven  years  old.  My  mother  is  writ- 
ing for  me.  LAURIE  K.  li. 

Is  Polar  Bear  a  white  cat?  I  hope  the  new 
school-house  is  very  pleasant,  and  that  Laurie 
ha-  a  teacher  whom  he  loves. 


I  am  nine  years  old,  and  through  the  kindness 
"t  niv  mint  May.  who  lives  in  Hartford,  Connect- 
icut, I  have  had  YorNt;  PEOPLE  to  read  for  three 
years.  When  I  commenced  taking  it  I  had  to 
have  the  stories  read  to  me,  but  now  am  so  far 
advanced  in  my  studies  that  I  can  read  most  of 
tlum  without  help.  I  am  just  through  with  a 
three  months'  school  term  without  a  single  ab- 
sent mark,  and  though  1  was  the  youngest  in  my 
spelling  class,  my  teacher  gave  me  a  bright  silver 
quarter  the  last  day  for  having  the  most  head 
marks.  I  feel  a  little  proud  of  this,  and  it  is  so 
nice  to  think  that  I  can.  through  YOUNG  PEOPLE, 
tell  it  to  Uuudreds  of  little  boys  and  girls,  some 
ot  them  thousands  of  miles  away.  Papa  says  that 
children  have  more  privileges  now  than  grown 
people  had  when  he  was  a  boy.  Well.  I  think  it 
about  time  we  did  have  a  chance;  and,  dear 
YiuMi  PEOPLE,  I  am  glad  that  you  have  cham- 
pioned the  rights  of  us  little  boys  and  girls.  Give 
lit  t  le  boys  and  girls  a  chance,  for 

Little  hands  will  soon  be  strong 

For  the  work  that  they  must  do. 
Little  lips  will  sing  their  song 

When  these  early  days  are  through. 
So,  you  big  folks,  if  we're  small. 

On  our  toes  you  need  not  dance  ; 
There  i-  room  enough  for  all — 

Give  little  boys  and  girls  a  chance. 

MYRON  L.  D. 

This  is  a  happy  world  for  the  children,  and  -o 
it  was  for  me  when  I  was  a  child.  Though  I  did 
not  have  this  exquisite  II.vl:l-ia:'-  Yoi  M.  I'l  ocia  . 
I  hail  its  grandfather,  Memtfs  Museum,  which  per- 
hap-  your  papa  may  remember.  And  though  I 
did  not.  like  yon.  my  boy,  receive  a  prize  for  head 
mark.-,  i  often  wore  the  silver  medal  home  at 
night  for  having  been  good,  and  once  1  know, 
when  quite  a  wee  thing.  I  went  "up  head'  for 


KRECZSACH,  GKRMANY. 

f  did  not  write  you  from  Italy.  In  San  Kerao,  on 
the  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  we  had  a  lovely 
little  villa  that  faeeu  the  -ea.  and  at  sunset  and 
sunrise  we  could  see  the  island  of  Corsica.  After 
a  storm  we  would  go  down  to  the  harbor  and 
watch  the  great  waves  that  would  break  on  the 
si  ones  at  tin-  foot  ol  the  wall.  Although  we  went 
from  Dresden  in  February  to  San  Remo,  we  found 
tin  garden  full  of  lovely  roses,  geraniums,  and 
oranges,  and  the  tall  palm-trees  seemed  to  smile 
down  upon  the  lovely  country  and  the  gay  Ital- 
ians. 

We  hated  to  leave  Italy,  but  we  had  to  part 
and  go  to  Germany.  From  San  Remo  we  went 
to  Genoa,  and  staid  there  a  few  days  ;  it  is  an  in- 
teresting city,  with  many  queer  little  narrow 
streets.  From  there  we  went  to  Milan.  In  that 
splendid  Cathedral  we  saw  the  festival  of  the 
"Nail  and  the  Cross."  It  was  crowded  with 
laughing  and  joking  people,  who  made  places  for 
us  to  see  tin-  procession,  and  talked  to  us  all  Un- 
tune. 

From  Milan  we  went  to  Lucerne.  We  saw  the 
"  l.ioii  of  Lucerne,"  which  is  cut  in  the  solid  rock 
in  memory  of  the  Swiss  Guards  who  defended 
Louis  XVI.  and  Marie  Antoinette.  The  city  shops 
have  many  little  copies  for  sale.  We  rowed  on 
the  lake,  and  saw  William  Tell's  chapel,  and  then 
went  up  the  IJighi  in  a  tilted  car.  with  such  a  tun- 
ny little  engine  to  hack  it  up.  There  were  clouds 
all  around  us  at  first,  and  it  was  such  a  funny 
sensation.  We  could  see  high  snow-topped  mount- 
ains and  glaciers  a  round  us  when  the  clouds  were 
blown  away.  Tom  and  I  made  sketches  of  ev- 
ery queer  thim:  we  -aw 

Then  we  went  to  I'.adi  n  I'.aden.  We  bathed  in 
t  In  lovely  Friedrielfs  Hath,  which  is  the  finest  in 
the-  world.  Then  we  went  to  Heidelberg,  and 
saw  that  old  castle  which  is  so  fine.  Tom  made 
a  good  sketch  of  it.  At  ln-i  we  came  to  Kreuz- 

nacli 

I  send  another  Wiggle.  My  last.  I  suppose,  was 
not  good  enough  to  put  in:  perhaps  thi-  is  not 
too.  I  like  the  Wiggle-  -o  much  '.  \Ve  have  had 
last  year's  Youxu  PEOPLE  bound,  and  it  is  vei\ 
handsome.  A  celebrated  German  artist  said  it 
was  wonderful  how  Americans  could  have  such 
very  tine  pictures  and  have  the  MAGAZINE  so 
cheap:  that  America  must  have  made  a  great 
advance  in  art.  I  take  HARPEK'-  'i  01  M,  PEOPLE 
to  bed  with  me,  and  read  it  early  in  the  morning. 
Tom  takes  one  volume,  and  I  the  other. 

KATIE  li. 

You  must  not  be  discouraged  because  your 
Wiggles  do  not  appear,  so  many  of  our  clever 
boys  and  girls  are  trying  their  skill  with  the  pen- 
cil that  aselectioii  has  to  be  very  caivfulh  made 
from  the  great  number  of  Wiggles  submitted. 
Our  artist  endeavors  to  I,.-  just  to  everybody. 
You  may  be  sure  that  I  shall  always  print  your 
letters  when  you  send  such  delightful  dcserip 
tious  of  what  you  see  on  your  journeys  here  and 
there  in  Europe. 


DEAR  POSTMISTRESS, —We  are  three  girl-  who 
want  to  make  exchanges.  Do  you  have  to  pay 
for  inserting  them?  If  so,  could  you  please  tell 
us  how  much?  We  have  only  begun  to  take  in 
your  paper  lately.  "In  Honor  Bound"  is  a  very 
nice  story.  We  live  in  .Scotland. by  the  sea, and 
we  all  lik'e  sea-bathing  very  much.  Will  you  an- 
swer our  letter  soon,  please,  and  tell  us  to  whom 
we  ought  to  address  the  exchanges? 

THREE  OF  YorK  REAIJEI:-. 

Then-  i-  n,,  charge  for  exchanges.  Please  ad 
dress  your  letter  simply  to  Messrs.  Harper  A 
Brothei> 


., 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven yi  ars  old.     In  the  spring 
we  had  a  pretty  bad  time.     We  had  begun  to 

tear    Up     our     holl-e     lo     eolne     out     here    (tor    We 

lived  in  New  Jersey  then),  when  mamma  and  my 
sister  and  I  wire' taken  sick  with  diphtheria. 
Papa  had  a  place  here,  and  so  he  had  to  come 
\vben  we  got  over  the  worst  of  it.  He  brought 
my  two  big  sisters  and  my  brother  along  with 


SEPTEMBER  18,  1SS3 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


735 


him.  W'heMi  we  got  well  enough  my  uncle  eame 
out  with  us.  The  house  we  live  in  now  is  very 
small  compared  \vitli  the  one  we  used  to  live  in. 
We  have  taken  HARPER'S  Yot-N.i  PEOPLE  three 
years,  and  we  tliink  it  is  a  splendid  paper.  I  do 
11,  ,i  po  to  school  no  w  ;  it  is  vacation.  I  take  mu- 
Sic  lessons,  and  1  will  have  to  rinse  now  and  go 
anil  practice,  Hood-by.  M  -n:  II.  V.  L. 

LAKH  rll.VMPLAIX. 
How  beautiful  is  the  lake' 
How-  u'elltly  its  waters  shake1 
\s  they  move  along  they  sin::  this  song, 
''How  beautiful  is  the  lake:" 

The  daisies  grow  along  the  shores, 
Tin1  men  dip  gently  with  their  oars, 

And   as  they   slowly  move  along 

Tliey  seem  to  sing  this  little  song, 
"How  beautiful  is  the  lake  :" 

The  tinkling  cow-bells  now  afe  heard, 

And  now  is  seen  a  Hying  bird. 

And  as  it  swiftly  flies  along 

It  seems  to  sing  the  same  old  son:;. 

"How  beautiful  is  the  lake!" 

The-  farmer  homo  is  going  now. 

And  leaves  at   rest   bis  -pade  and  plough; 

Tin.'  mountains  all  the  shores  along 

Echo  bai'k  this  same  obi  song. 

"How  beautiful  is  the  lake  I" 

HEI.ENE  HAH  o  (aged  11V 

Helene's  mamma  tells  me  that  t  he..-  pretty  lines 
were  written  by  her  daughter,  without  the  slight 
e-l  help,  while  passing  the  lake  in  the  ears  on  a 
summer  jaunt.     1  think  they  are  very  good  in- 
.  .r  so  \  01  ing  a  writer. 


ATI.AM  «, :••!  * 

I  .mi  e-ight  years  old.    My  younger  brottier.  w  ho 

is  live    bis  name  is  Cecil— tried I  Mary  E.  C.'s 

receipts  for  sponge  ginger  cake,  and  alt  lion gh  he 

is  a   boy   he   had   siiree-ss        I    ba\e    no    pets   to   tell 

you  about  except  my  little  baby  brother, who,  1 
think,  is  the  sweetest  in  the  we. rid.  lie-  is  very 
li\eh,  so  I  ec  imposed  a  piece  of  pociry  to  him  : 

With   his  little  legs  free 

As  t  hey  can  be. 
He  soon 'will  be  ready- 
To  climb  up  a  t  pee 

i  Mir  largest  and  linest  hotel,  the  Kitnball  House, 
burned  down  this  morning.  HAUKI   A.  A. 


PC  i:r.*  vn  I  v  .  Mi~-i'C  la. 

\\  e  live  on  a  farm  on  the  edge  of  the  town.  I 
haw-  three  brothers  and  two  sisiers.alid  we  ha\e 
tbree  pet  kittens.  My  oldest  brother  is  married. 
M\  two  \oimger  brother^  and  I  ba\c  ti\e  dneks 
ami  a  roost er  and  ben  api'-ec-  Last  spring  while 
T  was  draggini:  a  log  it  rolled  on  my  |.  -  ami 
broke  it  :  I  had  to  lie  in  bed  for  two  months  be- 
to  re  I  eon  Id  wall,  on  en  Itches,  but  it  is  well  now. 
\  aeation  will  soon  be  over.  I  hope  that  this  lei- 
ter  will  be  printed,  tor  I  want  to  surprise  my  sis- 
ter and  my  cousins.  AIITHI  i:  t  . 

You  had  a   g 1  opportunity  to  practice  pa- 

ticlic  •  while  lying  ill  bed  so  long.      I  hope  Yol  Mi 

PEOPLE  helped  to  pass  away  some  of  the  hours. 


HAUL  KM,  New    Y,,r.K. 

I  am  a  little  boy  twelve  years  old.  f  have  taken 
II.u. Phil's  Yoi  Mi  PEOPLE  for  a  longtime,  and  like 
it  \ery  muc.b.  I  have  two  sisters.  One  of  them 
is  at  Newport,  and  she  writes  home  that  she'  is 
having  a  splendid  time.  I  have  a  little  gray  kit- 
ten, and  a  very  tame  canary,  which  will  hop  on 
my  linger  and  peck  it.  Sometimes  the  kitten 
tries  to  jump  at  the  cage.  This  is  my  first  letter. 
and  1  hope  it  will  be  printed,  as  I  would  like  very 
much  to  see  it  in  the  Post-office  Box.  I  must 
elo>e  now.  SO  good-by.  C.  F.  W. 

Keep  a  sharp  eye  on  that  kitty. 


Luxe  BRANCH,  NKW  Jn.-c  \ 

I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  over  two  years, 
and  I  like  it  very  much.  I  am  a  little  girl  ten 
years  of  age.  and  am  spending  the  summer  here  ; 
I  live  in  New  Y'ork.  I  had  two  gold-fishes,  but 
they  were  killed.  I  have  a  bird  named  Dick.  I 
like  the  new  story  by  Mrs.  Lillie  very  much.  I 
think  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are  very  funny.  I 
have  tried  some  of  the  receipts  for  cake  among 
the  Receipts  for  Little  Housekeepers,  and  found 
them  very  nice  indeed.  FLORENCE  N.  K. 

I  have  almost  broken  my  heart  over  the  sad 
fate  of  my  gold-fishes  at  least  a  half -dozen  times. 
Mine  have  never  been  killed,  but  always  sooner 
or  later — generally  sooner — the  poor  things  die, 
no  matter  how  gently  they  are  cared  for.  We 
have  a  bird  at  our  house  named  Dick,  and  he  has 
just  come  out  in  a  beautiful  coat  of  new  feathers, 
in  which  he  holds  up  his  head  bravely,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  say,  "  Look  at  my  fall  suit  !" 


TWIN  BRIDGES,  MONTANA  TERBITOEV. 

T  am  not  a  subscriber,  but  my  sister,  who  is 
younger  than  I.  takes  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  have  two 
lirothers  and  one  sister.  My  oldest  brother  has 
gone  to  the  le-ysers,  or  National  Park.  We  have 


a  good  many  pets— four  kittens,  a  lamb,  and  eight 
little  chickens.  We  are  among  the  Kocky  Mount- 
ains, ivople  here  often  go  up  to  some  ot  the 
canons  aini  ramp  out.  My  brother  has  a  pony 
by  the  name  of  .Jimmy,  w  inch  we  ride  often.  He 
is  \  ery  g.  nt le.  I  will  have  to  close  now.  <>ooii. 
by.  KATIK  <  . 

Was  the  pony  named  after  our  friend  Jimmy 
Brown? 


BEYKOLT,  M  1.1  , 

My  father  takes  HARPL-R'S  YOI-M;  PEOPLE  for 
me. 'ami  I  like  the  stories  in  it  very  much.  '  spi 
cially  "  Raiding  the  'Pearl.'"  I  am  past  nine 
\  ear's  old  I  u-ed  to  live  in  New  York,  but  m\ 
bome  is  now  in  lleyroiit.  I  notice  a  great  differ- 
enee  bet  ween  America  and  tin'  East.  Here  I  here 
are  roads,  but  no  sideu alUs.  no  railways,  stages, 
or  street  ears,  but  there  are  some  carriages,  and 
many  donkeys,  mules,  and  camels,  \\hieh  carry 
'"ad  sand  stones.  The  nat  i\c  women  wear 
figured  veils  over  their  faces  in  the  streets,  and 
look  as  if  they  were  playing  ghosts,  with  while 
sheets  all  over  them  ;  while  the  men  wear  tar- 
booshes, and  long  garments  more  like  shirts  than 
anything  else  down  to  their  heels,  or  very  full 
bagg)  trousers,  slippers  of  red  or  yellow  nnu-oc 
i  o  i  in  ned  dow  n  al  t  he  heel.  Their  songs  won  Id 
draw  a  great  crowd,  and  the  singers  would  be 

thought  crii/.y.  in  the  I  nited  States.     I g  after 

my  arrival  here  my  experiences  were  as  new  as 
it  I  were  in  another  world.  I  hardly  knew  w  h.-t  h- 

cr   lo   be   pleased   or  SO1TV.  l.lllt    t  lie  p'eo  p  I  e   a  I  c  •   \  .    r  \ 

kni'lly  di-l'osed.  and  one  may  be  happ\  hen, 
though  so  tar  away  from  America.  I  have  an 
Aleppo  eat.  \\  hirh  di tiers  In  cm  the  American  cals 
in  having  long,  line,  silky  fur  ;  it  is  affect  ional  e, 
and  unusually  large  and  strong  I  bad  a  gold- 
finch last  winter,  but  it  died,  so  I  do  not  care  to 
ha\e  an>  more  birds  till  1  know  how  to  keep 
them  \\ell  and  strong.  l-'na  nisi.  T.  K 

This  js  a  mod, -I  letter.  Fielding  has  contrived 
lo  make  it  as  vivid  a.s  a  picture.  I  hope  he  will 
write  again  SOOD 


PI.ATTI..VUI.K.    Wl-,     .S.IN 

1  am  a  little  girl  eight  \cars  "Id.  1  take  •>  "i  M. 
l'i  OP]  i  and  In.'  I"  read  it  ver>  much.  I  h:i\e  a 
little  sister  seven  years  old,  and  we  ha\.  irerj 
nice  limes  plaving  together.  \Ve  have  six  pets. 
tour  eats  and  two  birds.  We  had  a  nice  little 
di'g,  bill  lie  died,  and  I  am  \  <-ry  si  dry  There  are 
a  gi .  .n  m:in\  trees  ,n-"un>i  bere,  and  in  the  spring 
man\  birds  build  ilieir  nests  in  them,  and  lasi 
spring  a  bird  made  its  nest  in  an  evergreen  in 
trout  o[  our  house  I  me  ew-nmg  w  e  were  watch- 
ing it,  and  it  was  going  toward  its  nest  with  a 
worn)  in  its  month.  II  did  not  want  us  to  know 
w  here  its  ne~!  was.  so  it  kept  tl\  ing  from  t  ree  lo 

tree,  and  it  was  about  twenty  minutes  before  it 
gave  the  worm  to  it.s  young.  1  semi  n\r  ci  nt- 
lor  tin-  doll  pattern.  (.t.oia.iE  1.  V. 

t, corgi.  -  recehcd  her  pattern  long  ago.  It  was 
very  cunning  of  the  bird  to  try  to  hide  her  nest, 
and  she  did  so  through  a  desire  to  protect  her 

liltl es.     She  dill  not  know  how  friendly  your 

bright  eyes  wen 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

We  are  tbree  sisters,  having  no  brother.  Hel- 
en's ;;  c.i  I  ma  n  i  ma  -.-lit  her  your  splendid  paper  for 
a  Christmas  gift.  We  like  Mrs.  Hays's  stories  as 
well  as  we  dec  the'  grand  pictures  Mr.  Hays  used  to 
paint,  stcme  of  which  hang  in  onr  parlor  ;  we  also 
like-  Mrs  l.illie's.  Mr.  White's,  and  Mr.  otis's  sto 
rics.  We  visit  New  York  every  September,  and 
we-  arc-  liopiiiL'to  see  Harper's  building,  as  well  as 
St.  .Mary's  and  the  little  Cot  patient.  Please-  east 
our  vot'c  for  a  boy  tor  next  time.  We  have  two 
French  dolls,  which  were  brought  us  from  Paris 
b\  a  friend,  dressed  in  the  French  peasant  cos- 
tunics;  we  never  saw  any  others  in  this  coun- 
try, and  they  are  sec  odd.  Helen  would  like  to  be 
a  Little  Housekeeper. 

HELEN  W..  l.hRTiirDE,  and  SARAH  ALMV  G. 

LEMON-NOGG.— -Beat  one  egg  very  light,  sweet- 
en, add  juice  of  one  lemon,  then  fill  a  tumbler 
with  iee'and  water, and  toss  back  and  forth  until 
quite  light.  HELEN  W".  (.;. 

The  Postmistress  thinks  it  would  he  fair  to  have 
a  boy  in  the-  lot  next.  Sister  Catherine  will  let 
us  know  the  decision  when  it  has  been  made. 
Here-  is  a  reader  who  votes  on  the  other  side  : 

INDEPENDENCE  TKXAS. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— I  saw  a  letter  in  the  Post 
office  I'.ox  from  St.  Mary's  Free  Hospital,  saying 
that  they  wished  the  children  to  take  a  vote  to 
see  whether  the  next  child  in  Young  People's 
Cot  should  be  a  boy  or  a  girl.  I  am  in  favor  of 
its  being  a  girl.  HALBERT  R.  K. 

CHARLESTON,  SOL-TH  CAKI.I  INA 

I  enjoy  YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  My  aunt 
says  it  is  a  great  help  to  her  these  summer  holi- 
days. There  are  three  of  us.  My  brother  is  old- 
er  than  I  am,  and  my  sister  younger;  1  am  nine- 
years  old.  I  began  a  patchwork  quilt  the  day  I 
was  five;  it  is  not  quite  done  yet,  but  I  have 
ghen  it  to  my  uncle  every  birthday  and  every 
Christmas  since  it  was  begun.  \Ve  have  a  cana- 


ry-bird named  Caro.  Often  other  birds  have 
come  in  the  window  to  see  him.  You  ought  tee 
hear  how  he  scolds  when  they  are  too  sociable, 
and  eat  ht~  seed.  We- have,  too,  a  beautiful  big 

white-  eat  named  Tom:  he  is  more  afraid  of  a 
rat  than  an\  thing  else  in  this  world. 

NOME  D.  T. 

Your  cat  ought  to  have  been  the  one  to  wear 
the-  bell.  You  know  the  plan  the  rats  once  made 
to  fasten  a  bell  on  the'  neck  of  the  cat.  It  failed 
because  none  were  bold  enough  thus  to  orna- 
ment Puss. 


SM;I  IN,  TEXAS. 

I  am  a  little  girl  five  years  old.  I  have  ne\.-r 
been  to  any  school  except  .Sunday-school  ;  I  can 
nol  write-  myself,  but  my  cousin  is  vyritim:  lor 
me,  I  telling  her  what  to  say.  My  sister  Mary 
and  I  take'  Yorxc;  PEOPLE.  I  like  t..  hear  her 
read  the  letters  in  the  Post-office  Box  ami  sunn 
of  the  tales,  but  sccnn-  of  t  h« -in  arc-  so  long  t  ha  I  I 
get  tired  before  she  finishes.  1  wish  you  would 
print  this  ;  it  is  the  first  I  have  written. 

AGNI-S  M 

You  little  darling :  If  you  were  here.  I  would 
like  to  give  you  a  kiss.  Your  first  letter  is  a  very 
sweel  one. 

I.  D.  T.  wants  somebody  who  knows  how  the 
game-  e.l  I.e. it.,  is  played  to  kindly  send  full  din  e 
lions  I.,  our  Post  "Ilie-e  Box.  — Huby  V.  It. :  We- 
will  try  tic  gratify  you,  if  we  can.  — It.  I'.. :  \  onr 

id t  a  literary  club  is  excellent,  but  you  must 

not  let  il  interfere  with  your  studies,  or  the  pro- 
fessors will  frown.— Joseph  S. :  I  would  like  to 
s.-e  tines.-  lie.rses,  and  I  hope  you  will  write  and 
tell  me  whether  fan.  Bill,  or  Nancy  is  your  favo- 
rite Kmnin  L.  II. :  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you 
again,  bnl  you  must  write  after  school  has  be 
gun.  and  tell  me  how  you  like  it  this  term.  Em- 
ma would  prcler  a  boy  in  Young  People's  Cot 
next  Millie  F.  and  Julie  /. :  Your  pencil-writing 
was  so  faint  that  I  could  not  read  it.  Use  black 
ink,  ['lease. aliolhcr  time 


Pl'ZZLES  FHOM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTOKS. 
No.  1. 

TUo    EASY    WORD    SQTARF.S. 

1. — 1.  To  separate.  2.  A  river  in  Asia.  3.  To 
turn.  4.  Sound  of  a  bell. 

x!.  1  To  dislike.  2.  A  sea  in  Europe.  3.  A 
sound.  4.  Always.  K.  FERGUSON. 

No.  S. 

Nl'MERlCAI.    ENIGMA. 

The  w  hole  is  a  not  eel  island  composed  of  10  let- 
ters. 

My  1.2,  :i.  4. 1  is  a  form  of  address. 
My  ~>.  1.  •'!  is  a  spur. 
My  ;.  s.  !>.  10  is  a  mark. 
M\  ',.  li, ',  is  an  aeriform  elastic  fluid. 
My  3.  2. 1  is  a  bank  to  confine  water. 

LILLIL  ZIMMERMAN. 

No.  3. 

HIDDEN   BIRDS. 

1.  Is  Roh  iii  the  house?  a.  Eric  ran  eastward 
3.  See  h..w  l.vnwiek  e-au  swim.  4.  The  college 
boys  have  had  tin-  eighth  rush  for  the  cane.  o. 
Now  let  us  see  you  ride  ELT.EKA. 


No.  4. 

ACROSTIC   OF   CITIES. 

1.  A  city  in  Illinois.  2.  A  city  in  Maryland.  3. 
A  city  in'  Rhode  Island.  4.  A  city  in  Massachu- 
setts. ").  A  city  in  North  Carolina.  8.  A  city  in 
Maine.  7.  A  city  in  Tennessee.  H.  A  city  in  < 'hie c 
'.i.  A  city  in  New  York,  10.  A  city  in  Pennsylva- 
nia. 11.  A  city  in  New  Hampshire.  12.  A  city  in 
Nebraska.  Initials  compose  the  name  of  a  piom 
in.  city  on  the  Pacific.  EUREKA. 


ANSWEIiS  TO  I'CZZLES  IN  No  2i»J 
No.  1.        TASK  M    I    T  E 


A  L  O  E 
s  ll  r  P 
K  E  P  T 


IDEA 
TEAR 
EARS 


TONE 

O  P  E  N 

NEED 

ENDS 

No.  2.  Golden  Age. 

No.  3.  Elder-tree.    Adrift.    Mouse.    Stone.    For- 
tune. 


Correct  answ  ers  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Katie  Ferguson.  Harry  Kensett,  Eureka. 
Clara  K..  1,'oberl  I.  All. -e.  Amy  Berdan.  Eleanor 
T.  Ii  .  Margaret  Carruthers.  Herbert  T.  Cox.  Fan- 
nie- stetson.  Max  Vane.  Mary  L.  E.,  and  Richie 
Price. 


[For  Exckanyef,  see  -lei  and  Zd  pages  of  cover.} 


736 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE    FIRST    BATTLE-FIELD    OF    THE    REVOLUTION. 


THE  PURSE  AND  RINGS  PUZZLE. 

CUT  two  pieces  of  leather  as  shown  iii  the  diagrams,  only 
about  twice  the  size. 

In  the  first  piece  cut  four  slits  (shown  by  the  four  short  lines 
in  the  diagram).  To  the  edges  of  the  leather  at  the  extremities 
of  the  straight  dotted  line  attach  securely  pieces  of  round  elastic, 
forming  loops,  as  shown.  Each  piece  of  elastic,  when  doubled, 
should  be  slightly  shorter  than  the  length  of  the  dotted  line. 
At  the  back  of  the  same  piece  of  leather  attach  another  loop  of 
elastic.  In  the  diagram  the  part  of  the  loop  at  the  back  of  the 
leather  is  shown  by  dotted  lines,  the  end  of  the  loop  appearing 
above  the  leather.  Where  the  circle  is,  sew  a  small  metal  ring, 
as  shown.  The,  ring  must  be  of  such  size  that  it  can  be  pushed 
through  the  slit  just  above  it  when  the  flap  is  folded  down  along 
the  dotted  line. 

To  the  upper  corners  of  the  other  piece  of  leather  (A  A)  fast- 


en pieces  of  round  elastic,  with  a  ring  at 
the  end  of  each,  as  shown  at  Pi,  the  elastic 
on  the  left  to  be  first  threaded  through 
the  ring  on  the  elastic  to  the  right 
(see  diagram).     To  the  edges  of 
the  leather  sew  four  rings,  as 
shown.     All  the  rings  are  to 
be  of  the  same  size  as  the  one 
previously  used.     And  to  the 
centre  of  this  piece  of  leather 
fix  another  elastic,  threaded 
through  the  ring  at  the  bot- 
tom, as  shown,  and  having  a 
ring  tied  to  the  end  of  the 
elastic. 

Then  stitch  the  edges  of 
the  two  pieces  of  leather  to- 
gether, and  turn  over  the  flap 
of  the  first  piece  so  as  to  form 
a  purse. 

Push  the  rings  through  the 
slits  1,  2,  3,  as  shown  in  the 
diagram,  and  thread  the  elas- 
tic through  the  rings  in  the  following  manner:  Pass  the  loop  C 
through  rings  1,  2,  and  3,  through  ring  4,  and  over  ring  o,  then 
pull  the  loop  back  through  ring  4,  and  pass  it  over  rings  4  and  5. 
Pass  loop  1)  through  rings  3,  2,  and  1,  through  ring  4,  and  over 
ring  5,  and  then  pull  the  loop  back  through  ring  4.  Pass  loop 
E  through  rings  6  and  7,  and  over  ring  8  :  loop  E  should  be 
short  enough  to  lie  flat  when  drawn  back  through  ring  7. 

The  purse  is  now  closed,  and  is  ready  for  presentation  to  any 
one  who  is  desirous  of  opening  it. 

To  open  the  purse,  reverse  the  operations  above  described. 


THE    LITTLE    COOPER. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY 


VOL.  IV. -NO.  304. 


PUBLISHED  BY  IIAlil'Ell  A:   I5IK  >TII  EIIS.  NKW  YUKK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  September  25,  1883. 


Copyright,  l->*2,  by  HARPKB  it  BKOTMKU. 


$1.50  per  Tear,  in  Advance. 


THE    CHILDREN    OF    CHARLES    I.— SEE  PAGE  738. 


-00 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  CHILDREN  OF  CHARLES  T. 

BY  ELIOT  McC'ORMICK. 

ONE  who  goes  to  Turin  and  visits  the  gallery  there  will 
he  likely  to  linger  some  time  before  the  picture  of 
three  odd.  old-fashioned  children  and  their  dog.  This 
famous  painting,  a  reproduction  of  which  will  he  found 
on  the  preceding  page,  the  guide-book  will  tell  him— ii  he 
does  not  know  it  already— is  the  work  of  the  great  artist 
Vandyck,  and  represents  the  family  of  King  Charles  I. 
He  will  be  surprised,  perhaps,  to  learn  that  the  quaint  fig- 
ure at  the  left,  looking  like  a  little  old  woman,  with  a  lace 
,-ap  011  its  head,  and  a  long  scarlet  frock,  is  Charles,  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  while  the  even  funnier  little  object  on 
the  ri°'ht  whose  frock  is  blue  silk  embroidered  with  sil- 
ver lace,  is  James,  the  Duke  of  York.  Hardly  any  one 
would  suppose  them  to  be  boys.  The  Princess  Mary,  how- 
ever, who  stands  in  the  middle,  beautifully  dressed  in  white 
satin,  is  not  to  be  mistaken. 

Vandyck  painted  two  more  portraits  of  the  same  chil- 
dren, and  with  them  their  other  little  sisters  and  a  baby 
brother,  but  this  one  is  the  earliest,  as  it  is  also  the  quaint- 
est, of  tiie  three.  The  dog  which  Charles  caresses,  and  the 
ball  in  the  hand  of  "Baby  Stuart,"  tell  the  story  of  their 
happy  childhood.  No  children,  indeed,  could  have  been 
happier  than  those  of  King  Charles  at  their  home  in  Hamp- 
ton Court.  A  great  oak-tree  in  the  park  is  pointed  out 
now  as  the  place  where  they  used  to  play;  we  read  of  their 
merry  games  of  hide-and-seek ;  and  the  visitor  at  Oxford 
is  shown  a  silver  staff  on  which  the  King  used  to  measure, 
as  fathers  do  now,  their  height,  from  year  to  year. 

But  this  did  not  last  long.  When  Charles  was  eleven, 
Mary  ten,  and  James  between  seven  and  eight,  the  civil 
war  broke  out,  and  the  children  were  separated  one  from 
another.  Charles  and  James  remained  with  their  father 
in  England,  while  Mary,  who  had  already  boon  married  to 
the  little  Prince  of  Orange,  was  taken  by  her  mother  to 
Holland.  Here  she  was  placed  with  the  Prince's  mother 
until  she  and  the  Prince,  who  was  only  a  year  older  than 
herself,  should  have  grown  up.  The  marriage  fortunate- 
ly turned  out  a  happy  one,  though  the  Prince  died  when 
lie  was  only  twenty-four  years  old,  leaving  Mary  with  a 
little  baby  boy,  whose  rights  she  had  to  guard  against  its 
ambitious  grandmother  and  a  crowd  of  scheming  politi- 
cians. The  boy,  though  he  was  feeble  and  sickly  at  his 
birth,  and  though  his  mother  did  not  live  to  sec  his  glory, 
grew  up  to  be  the  great  William  III.  of  England. 

While  Mary  was  being  educated  in  Holland  both  Charles 
and  James— though  the  latter  was  but  nine  years  old — 
were  lighting  by  their  father's  side.  Whatever  hard- 
ships the  King  went  through  they  shared,  until  finally, 
after  four  years,  the  King's  cause  became  hopeless,  and 
Charles  was  hurried  away  to  the  coast,  and  thence  escaped 
to  France.  James  at  the  same  time  was  raptured  by  the 
Parliamentary  army  and  forwarded  to  London,  where  he  re- 
mained for  a  year  in  captivity,  with  his  younger.sister,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  and  the  little  Henry,  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, at  St .  James's  Palace. 

Finally  an  opportunity  offered  for  him  to  escape.  He 
was  in  the  habit  of  playing  hide-and-seek  with  his  brother 
and  sister  every  night  after  supper  in  the  garden.  One 
evening,  when  it  was  his  turn  to  hide,  he  ran  to  his  room, 
hurriedly  changed  his  clothes,  locked  in  his  sister's  favor- 
ite spaniel  lest  it  should  follow  and  so  betray  him,  and  stole 
through  the  garden  door,  of  which  he  had  secreted  the  key, 
to  the  lane  outside,  where  a  coach  was  in  waiting.  He  was 
quickly  driven  to  a  friendly  house,  where  a  suit  of  girl's 
clothes  was  provided.  Having  dressed  himself  in  these,  he 
went  on  board  a  ship  that  was  bound  for  Rotterdam. 

The  boat  set  sail,  and,  passing  through  a  squadron,  of 
Parliamentary  vessels  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  reach- 
ed Holland  in  safety.  Here  his  sister  Mary  received  him 
with  joy,  and  the  three  children  were  once  more  united. 


They  never  saw  their  father  or  their  little  sister  Eliza- 
beth again.  The  King  was  shortly  afterward  beheaded 
at  Whitehall,  while  Elizabeth  died  in  captivity  at  Caris- 
lirooke  Castle.  Charles,  as  every  one  knows,  became 
King  at  the  restoration  ill  16(50.  He  was  succeeded  by 
Janies ;  and,  by  an  odd  coincidence,  it  was  the  son  of  Mary 
that  took  the  English  throne,  and  reigned  jointly  with  his 
wife,  who  was  James's  daughter,  when  James  himself  ran 
away. 

GOLDEN- ROD. 

B  Y    A  ONES    C  A  K  R. 

SEPTEMBER'S  a  King," 
Dame  Nature  once  said, 
As  she  gazed  o'er  the  fruit-scented  laud. 

UK  crown  is  the  harvest, 
The  orchard  his  realm. 
And  lie  gives  with  a  right  royal  hand." 

"Then  grant  me  a  sceptre." 

September  implored, 
"To  be  my  insignia  nl  rank — 

A  rod  of  pure  gold 

To  wave  o'er  the  land, 
And  knight  every  hill-side  and  bank." 

"I  will,"  quoth  kind  Nature; 

And  drew  forth  a  spray 
That  was  kissed  by  the  Midas  sun-god. 

And  his  magical  touch 

Burst  iu  rich  yellow  bloom 
A  u;raceful  and  fair  golden-rod. 


So  September  brings  ever 
His  feather-tipped  wands 

To  border  each  road-side  with 
And  tell  the  glad  world 
That  the  Harvest  King  reigns, 

And  scatters  his  bounties  untold. 


ild. 


A    DEED  OF  DARKNESS, 

HY   MRS.  W.  .1.  HAYS 

DESDY!  Desdy!     Whar's  dat  chile  gone.  I  wonder!'' 
were  the  words  which  two  bright-eyed  little  girls 
heard  as  they  passed  the  low  kitchen  window  of  Mi's.  Tat- 
iiall's  pretty  cottage,  where  roses  and  honeysuckles  climb- 
ed in  such  profusion. 

The  girls  were  oil  their  way  to  the  church  picnic,  and 
were  as  pretty  and  gay  as  white  muslins  and  pink  ribbons 
could  make  them.  .  They  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked 
longingly  at  the  beautiful  flowers  of  the  Tatnall  garden. 

"I  wish  we  had  some,"  said  Mabel  Morgan.  "Our  roses 
are  all  eaten  up  by  bugs." 

••  An'  why  don'  yer  jist  walk  in  an'  ask  Miss  Tatnall 
for  some?"  said  the  same  soft  voice  which  just  now  had 
been  calling  "Desdy." 

The  girls  looked  up  with  a  startled  expression.  There 
stood  Aunt  Chloe,  her  broad  face  beaming,  her  bright  t  ur- 
ban shaking,  and  her  black  hands  white  with  flour  she 
was  kneading  into  bread. 

"Jist  cum  along,  honey.  If  Miss  Tatiiall's  not  aroun" 
I'll  let  yer  take  all  de  roses  yer  kin  carry;  an'  if  yer  see 
IVsdy,  jist  sen'  her  here  to  me.  Don'  know  what's  de 
matter  wid  dat  chile ;  she's  kantaukerous  to-day." 

The  girls  looked  at  each  other  in  a  confused  way,  and 
shook  their  heads,  declining  the  proffered  favor;  but  Aunt 
Chloe  insisted,  repeating  that  "dere  was  such  a  lot  of 
roses  dey  ought  to  be  picked,  an'  Miss  Tatnall  iiebber  be- 
grudged flowers  to  nobody." 

Thus  urged,  Mabel  Morgan  seized  the  scissors  which 
Aunt  Chloe  showed  them  hanging  on.  a  peg,  and  soon  had 
her  hands  full  of  the  coveted  blossoms;  but  Madge  Taylor 
could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  take  any.  Her  bright  face 
was  clouded,  and  she  looked  about  impatiently  as  Mabel 
lingered  in  the  garden,  exclaiming-  at  the  beauty  of  each 
particular  flower. 


vKI'TEMBER  25,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


739 


"Oil.  come.  Mabel '."  she  said:  "we  sliall  be  late.  One 
would  tliink  you  had  never  seen  a  rose  before.'' 

"Xor  have  I  ever  seen  or  smelled  any  more  delicious." 
Mabel.   liaiiLnnji'   up   the   scissors,  and  irivimr  Aunt 
Chloe  a  pleasant  smile  and  "Thank  you."     As  she  did  so 
IK-  paused  ii)  a  listening  attitude,  and  asked : 

"What  is  that  sound  :" 

"I  don'  hear  nnthin'.  honey."  responded  Aunt  Chloe. 
giving  a  partimr  pat  to  her  nice  round  loaves  as  she  placed 
'hem  in  tlii-  pan  to  rise. 

"But  I  do."  said  Mabel.      "  It  is  some  one  crying." 

'•  Xoiis"iise!"  exclaimed  Madire.  "What  a  iroose  you 
are,  Maliel!  You  are  always  hearing  something  nobody 
else  does.  Do  come  a  Ion  if:  we  shall  be  1  ale.  mid  have  no 
fun  at  all.  Come;  I'm  going."  So  saying,  she  tripped 
off  in  a  quick  fashion,  which  Mabel  thought  a  little  rude. 

"Don'  yer  stan'  tliere  now  an'  lose  yo:ir  fun.  honey." 
said  Aunt  Chloe. 

But  Mabel  did  not  move:  she  was  quite  Mire  now  thai 
she  heard  someone  sobbing,  and  -.he  lieu'.trod  Aunt  Chloe 
to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

Muttering  and  grumbling  in  a  queer  way  to  herseli'.  she 
came  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  followed  the  '.Travel-path  to 
an  arbor  near.  Mabel   following  her.      The  sounds   i  n  u 
louder  as  they  approached,  but  in  another  moment  • 
altogether. 

"  NVhat's  all  dis  goin'  on  out  yere  ;"  said  the  old  wo 
man.  entering1  the  arbor,  and  lifting  from  the  bench  a 
limp  and  dejected  little  object,  down  whose  dark  cheek- 
stivamed  a  Hood  of  tears.  Tliere  was  no  answer,  only  a 
smothered  sob  and  a  convulsive  heaving  of  a  pair  of  small 
shoulders. 

"  ])esdeinony."  said  the  old  woman,  with  severity.  "  tell 
me  what's  de  matter.  'Clare  to  goodness  you'*  ^ih  me  a 
fright  about  nuthin'." 

"Oh.  1  can't  ;n>  to  de  picnic!"  burst  out  in  a  tone  of 
woe  from  the  despairing  Desdemona. 

"An'  why  not.  I'd  like  ter  know:"  said  Aunt  Chloe, 
indignantly. 

"They  won't  have  me-— they  said  so.  They  said  it 
warn't  a  picnic  for  cullud  pussons  -'twas  for  white  folks." 

"\Vhile  trash!"  muttered  Aunt  Chloe.  "I'd  like  to 
know  ef  we  ain't  Tatnalls.  one  of  de  fust  famblies  of 
lie  irgv.  an"  hain't  you  lamed  your  catechism  senee  you 
was  knee-high  to  a  grasshopper?  What  'ud  Miss  Tatnall 
say  to  see  you  lonkiif  like  dis  ;  Why.  I  neither  heerd  de 
like — but  I  nebber  did  think  much  o'  the  bobolitionists." 

Here  Mabel,  seeing  Aunt  Chloe's  rising  wrath,  took 
Desdy  by  the  hand,  and  said,  very  kindly.  "Don't  you 
mind  what  anybody  has  said.  Desdy.  Just  jret  ready  as 
i_:iick  as  you  can.  and  I'll  wait  for  you." 

To  tell'  the  truth,  Mabel  felt  not  a  little  guilty.  Sin- 
knew  that  Madge  Taylor  had  openly  discussed  the  indig- 
nity of  Desdy's  sharing  the  pleasure  of  the  picnic,  and  she. 
Mabel  herself,  had  felt  that  it  would  be  a  great  conde-cei i 
sion  if  any  of  the  girls  asked  Desdy;  but  now,  seeing  the 
child's  sorrow,  and  knowing  what  a  good  girl  she  really 
was,  and,  above  all.  havinir  accepted  the  roses,  she  was 
really  ashamed  of  her  foolish  prejudice. 

"Come,  you  must  hurry:  I  can  see  the  wagons  lillin»- 
up.  and  it  is  quite  a  long  ride  to  the  woods,"  she  repeated. 

Thus  encouraged,  and  urged  by  Aunt  Chloe,  whose 
family  pride  was  wounded  at  the  thought  of  her  grand- 
daughter being  slighted.  Desdy  dried  her  eyes,  and  ran  in 
the  house. 

While  Desdy  In-aided  her  woolly  locks  and  donned  her 
besi  cambric  gown.  Mabel  had  to  listen  to  Aunt  Chloe's 
indignation.  She  knew  she  deserved  the  reproaches  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  her  companions,  so  she  submitted  in 
silence. 

"  I  allus  tole  Miss  Tatnall  dat  Yankee-land  wuz  no  place 
fur  her  nor  fur  us:  but  when  Marse  Tatnall  died  she  had 
to  come  .">.)!•!',  so  we  corned  wid  her;  but  dis  yer  town's 


used  to  only  de  sassy  sort  o'  niggers — not  our 
hie  sort  at  all.  Fur  my  part.  I  wonder  Miss  Tatnall  puts 
up  wid  all  de  airs  I  see — it's  de  mos'  ridiculous,  risticratic. 
bombatious  village  ever  wuz.  But  here  comes  Desdy  in 
her  be-t  frock.  She  looks  scrumptious,  don't  she.  Miss 
Mabel  :  1  reckon  her  cambric's  as  ppod  as  aiiybodv's.  ef 
ole  Aunt  Chloe  did  make  it." 

"Of  course  it  is. "said  Mabel,  who  was  glad  to  be  off. 
and  seizing  Desdy  by  the  hand,  away  sin-  scampered. 

They  were  indeed  late.  The  wagons  were  nearly  full, 
and  many  were  the  words  of  surprise  and  disdain  which 
Mabel  heard  as  she  and  Desdy  crowded  into  the  vacant 
space.  But  Mabel  was  a  brave  girl.  She  was  not  aston- 
ished to  see  the  contemptuous  glances  bestowed  oil  her 
for  having  brought  Desdy.  and  she  felt  she  deserved  some 
punishment ;  so  she  bore  the  glances,  and  even  the  i-.udges 
and  knocks  \\hich  some  were  rude  enough  to  give,  with 
calmness.  AS  for  Desdy.  the  contrast  between  her  posi- 
tion now  and  a  short  time  before  was  quite  enough  to 
make  her  indifferent  to  either  nudges  or  knocks.  It  was 
sullicient  happiness  to  be  sitting  in  an  open  wagon  full 
of  'jayly  attired  children  with  bright  banners  and  flags 
and  Mowers,  the  sun  shining,  the  birds  sinking,  the  bush- 
es full  of  blossoms,  and  the  joy  of  having  on  her  best 
clothes. 

The  wagons  stopped  at  a  farm-house,  where  all  were  giv- 
en a  drink  of  milk,  and  then  they  were  allowed  to  scatter 
as  it  pleased  them.  The  house  was  surrounded  by  a  thick 
grove  and  wide  tields.  in  one  of  which  a  tent  bad  been  put 
up.  a  flag  hoisted,  and  a  band  stationed. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  Mabel  wandered  off 
with  her  favorite  friends,  and  forgot  all  about  Desdemoiia. 
who  happily  was  pleased  with  everything  she  saw.  and 
did  not  notice  that  little  by  little  all  bad  gone  and  left  her 
entirely  alone. 

The  day  was  indeed  beautiful,  but  the  heal  was  intense, 
and  as  a  light  breeze  sprang  up  and  a  few  clouds  appear- 
ed, every  one  was  so  glad  of  the  relief  that  they  were  slow 
to  see  tin1  signs  of  a  coming  shower. 

Madge  Taylor  and  Mabel  Morgan,  with  several  of  their 
moM  intimate  friends,  were  sitting  under  a  branching 
oak  (which  offered  delightful  shelter  from  the  glare  of 
the  sun  I  making  wreaths  for  their  hats,  when  one  of  the 
girls  started  up,  declaring  she  felt  a  drop  of  rain.  They 
all  raced  off  at  this,  leaving  Madge  and  Mabel  alone. 

"  I  would  rather  get  wet  than  run  in  all  this  heat."  said 
Madge;  "besides,  now  we  can  have  our  lunch  by  our- 
selves instead  of  with  the  others,  which  I  confess  I  pre- 
fer." ami  she  drew  out  a  dainty  basket  from  beneath  its 
leafy  covering. 

"I   have   mine  too."  said  Mabel:    "but  it  seems  sort  of 

sellisli  to  be  eating  here  all  alone.      (  111,  I  wonder  if  ] • 

little  Desdy  will  get  any  lunch  i    I  know  she  forgot  to  bring 
anything,  .she  came  in  such  a  hurry." 

Madge  nibbled  a  sandwich,  and  said,  languidly.  "How 
ridiculous  in  you  to  think  of  that  girl.  Mabel !  You  know 
well  enough  nobody  wanted  her  to  come.'' 

"Yes.  I  know  it;  and  I  am  sorry  I  was  so  unkind.  I'm 
going  to  hunt  her  up,  and  give  her  something  to  eat  this 
very  minute." 

In  another  moment  she  was  gone.  Madge  flattered  her- 
self how  superior  she  was  to  silly  Mabel,  and  how  cool  and 
refreshing  it  was  to  sit  quietly  under  this  big  tree  and  enjoy 
her  luncheon,  when  a  sharp  vivid  flash  of  lightning  made 
her  spring  upon  her  feet  and  clap  her  hands  over  her  ears 
to  keep  out  the  deafening  peal  of  thunder.  Cool,  com 
placent,  and  superior,  Madge  was  a  coward  in  a  thunder- 
storm. In  an  instant  she  had  dropped  her  sandwich,  and 
burst  into  tears,  crying,  "I. ill.  what  shall  I  do.' — oil.  what 
shall  I  do  '.  How  cruel  in  everybody  to  leave  me  here  all 
alone!" 

Flash  after  flash,  peal  after  peal  followed  in  quick  sue- 
cession.  Too  frightened  to  run.  or  even  to  think,  she  stood 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


with  clasped  hands,  the  very  statue  of  terror,  her  eyes 
closed,  her  face  pallid,  and  her  breath  coming  in  quick 
short  gasps. 

Suddenly  she  felt  herself  grasped,  by  what  or  whom  she 
knew  not.  Perhaps  this  was  the  way  people  felt  who 
were  killed  by  lightning;  perhaps  her  hour  had  come. 
The  grasp  tightened,  and  somebody  dragged  her  from  un- 
der the  tree  out  into  the  pelting  rain— none  too  soon — for 
in  another  moment  there  came  such  a  blinding  glare  and 
resounding  crash  that  she  was  thrown  upon  her  face  in 
the  long  wet  grass. 

How  long  she  lay  there  she  knew  not.  It  seemed  hours. 
She  dared  not  move;  her  garments  clung  to  her,  heavy 
with  rain ;  her  limbs  seemed  to  be  made  of  iron,  and  yet 


DESDY. 


she  was  conscious  that  voices  were  calling,  and  that  the 
sun  was  again  shining. 

At  last  somebody  raised  her.  A  friendly  voice  address- 
ed her:  "Are  you  hurt,  Madge?" 

She  sat  up  and  looked  about  her.  ' '  No— I — don't  think 
so,"  she  replied  ;  and  then  she  saw  a  little  limp  h'gui-e  lying 
quietly  beside  her,  not  moving,  still  with  the  stillness  of 
death. 

A  little  while  later  Madge  suddenly  opened  her  eyes, 
and  seeing  her  mother  beside  her  with  an  anxious  look 
on  her  face,  she  inquired, 

' '  What  is  the  matter  ?" 


"You  fainted,  dear;  that  is  all.'' 

"Did  I  ?     And  where  am  I  now  .'" 

"At  Mrs.  Tatnall's.  We  brought  you  here  because  it 
was  nearer  than  our  home." 

The  voice  was  Mrs.  Taylor's,  and  Madge  was  lying  on  a 
lounge  in  Mrs.  Tatnall's  best  bedroom.  She  was  confused 
by  the  strangeness  of  all  around  her,  but  gradually  mem- 
ory brought  back  the  frightful  storm  and  the  strange  in- 
cidents which  followed. 

"  Mother,"  she  whispered,  "  who  was  killed  ?" 

"  No  one,  my  child.'" 

'!  Oh  yes,  mother;  some  one  was  lying  dead  in  the  field 
llicrc  beside  me." 

"No,  Madge.  When  you  can  bear  it,  I  will  tell  you 
all.  Swallow  these  drops  now." 

Madge  obeyed,  but,  taking  her  mother's  hand,  begged  to 
be  told  what  had  happened.  After  a  little  persuasion  the 
mother  consented. 

"  The  storm  came  with  so  much  suddenness  that  no  one 
was  prepared  for  it.  Mabel  Morgan  was  some  distance 
off,  looking  for  Mrs.  Tatnall's  Desdy,  when  she  saw  her 
rush  under  the  tree  where  she  had  left  you  and  drag 
you  out  from  it.  The  next  moment  the  tree  was  struck, 
and  poor  little  Desdy  was  found  insensible  beside  you. 
She  has  rallied,  however,  and  the  doctor  thinks  she  will 
recover." 

"  Oh,  mother,  did  she  do  that  ?"  exclaimed  Madge.  "  I 
felt  some  one  grasp  me,  but  I  was  too  frightened  to  open 
my  eyes." 

"  She  saw  your  danger  none  too  soon,  my  child.  Hu- 
manly speaking,  you  owe  your  life  to  her." 

"  Oh,  mother!  mother!  and  I  was  one  who  would  have 
kept  her  away  from  the  picnic — because — because  her  skin 
was  not  as  white  as  mine.  Oh,  mother,  will  I  ever  be 
forgiven  ?" 

The  mother  whispered  words  of  solace  to  her  unhappy 
daughter,  who,  however,  could  not  receive  them,  and  it 
was  long  before  her  self- reproach  could  be  calmed. 

A  few  weeks  after  this  Mrs.  Tatnall  was  sitting  on  the 
piazza  under  her  roses  and  honeysuckles  ;  beside  her, 
propped  by  pillows,  was  a  little  invalid.  Her  face  was 
not  white,  but  it  had  the  wan,  weak  look  of  illness.  The 
afternoon  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  trees,  and  making 
long  shadows  on  the  grass,  when  they  heard  the  latch  of 
the  garden  gate,  and  saw  two  girls  advancing  slowly. 
One  carried  some  neat  parcels  and  a  basket  of  fruit,  the 
other  had  some  brightly  bound  books  in  her  hand,  and  as 
Aunt  Chloe  leaned  out  of  her  window  they  beckoned  her 
to  approach. 

"Why,  how  d'ye  do,  Mabel  and  Madge  ?"  said  Mrs.  Tat- 
nall. "You  look  as  if  you  had  come  from  the  express 
office.  Desdy 's  ever  so  much  better  this  afternoon." 

"We  are  glad  to  hear  it.      And  how's  Aunt  Chloe  ?" 

"Well,  tank  de  Lord,  now  dat  Desdy's  goin'  on  all 
right.  Why,  'tain't  Christmus,  chillens ;  dere's  no  snow  on 
de  groun'.  What's  de  mean  in'  ob  all  dis  2"  said  the  old 
woman,  eying  the  bundles  which  the  girls  were  piling  up 
before  the  astonished  and  delighted  Desdy. 

"Oh,  we  couldn't  wait  for  Christmas,  Aunt  Chloe;  it  is 
M>  Car  off  that  we  thought  we'd  have  two  of  them,  and  so 
Desdy  must  open  the  parcels,  and  see  if  she  likes  what's 
inside." 

"  Like!  why,  de  chile  '11  be  clar  spoilt;  sickness  is  bad 
enough  fur  spilen  chillen,  but  sich  doiu's  as  dis  is  "nuff  to 
turn  any  kin'  of  a  head  cl'ar  rouii'.  Can't  hab  no  sich 
goin's  on,  nebber  nohow." 

Nevertheless  Aunt  Chloe  was  pleased,  for  besides  books, 
and  a  paint-box,  and  a  work-basket  with  a  real  silver 
thimble,  there  was  a  pretty  cashmere  dress  and  white  mus- 
lin for  aprons,  and  besides  all,  an  invitation  for  Mrs.  Tat- 
nall to  bring  Desdy  to  the  sea-shore,  where  Madge  and 
her  inother  were  going. 


SEPTEMBER  25,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


A   NAMELESS  HERO. 

BY  E.  M.  TRAQUAIR. 

THIS  is  the  song  of  a  nameless  man. 
Listen  awhile  till  the  'leeil  is  told 
Of  one  who  ventured  his  life  to  save 
Another's,  Imt  not  for  fame  or  gold. 

\\ 'inter   had    lieeii   lioth   hard  and  IOML  . 

Spring  set   in,  and  the  brooklets  ran. 
Swamping  the  meadows  and   breaking  I  he  ice 

Into   mighty   blocks.      Then   the  Hoods   began. 

l!ed   ami  roaring,  the  rushing  stream 

On   its  heaving  hnsuin   the   iee   block*   1 

3temmcd  at   length  by  a   bridge  ol'  might, 
ll   foamed  and  crashed  with  a  sullen  mar. 

Crashed  and   dashed  on   the   pier*  ol'  stone, 

They  yield  at   la*t   to  the   fearful  strain; 
The  cenire  ar.-li.  with   the   keeper'*   hou*e 

And  helpless  inmates  alone  remain. 

Fiercer  and   fiercer  roar-   the   lloi.d. 

Wilder  the  wind  in   the  stormy  sky. 
The   keeper  springs  to  the   rockinir  roof: 

"Mercy,  have  mercy,  great   (Jod  on   Inuh' 

"Help   for  my   helpless  wife  and  child'" 

The\    heard  him   loud   o'er  the   torrent'*  roar; 

Help,  alas!    there   is  none  to  bring; 

No   boat   could  live  if  it  left   the  shore. 

Whosi    steed   comes  galloping  hot    with   ha*le, 

And   stops  by  the  river  raging  wild'.' 
Count    Allen,  who  offers  red  gold  to  him 

Who'll   save  the   keeper  with    wife  and   child. 

Ears,  a  thousand,  the  offer  heard. 

Hearts,  a  thousand,  with  grief  aie  sore; 
They    look  at    the  ice.  the   Hood,  and   the  sky, 

But   never  a   boatman   leave*  the  shore. 

"  Boatmen,  then,  are  ye  cowards  all'.' 

And  must   they   perish   within  our  sight  V" 

"Try   it  yourself.  Lord  Count."  tin  \    cried 

"Alas!"  said   he.  "for  my   strength   i*  slight." 

<>ut    from  the  crowd  a  wagoner  step*. 

A    boat    is   launched   with   the  speed   of  thought; 
'Twill   save  but    one  with  his  mighty    weight. 

lint   his  arm  i*  strong,  and   he  cures   for  naught. 

Thrice  he  guides  her  with  giant   strength. 

Thrice  hath  he  brought  her  safe  to  shore; 
Scarce   had  the  last  foot  touched   its  planks 

When  with  awful  crash  the  arch  fell  o'er. 

Who  was  this  valiant   man  of  men'.' 

A  simple  laborer,  brave  and  bold; 
"(irand  was  the  deed,"  I  hear  you  say, 

"But  still  he  did  it  for  goods  and  gold 

Li-ten,  then.     "Gallant  the  deed  you've  done, 
And  well."  said  the  Count,  "  have  you  earned  the  prize. 

Frankly  and  modestly  answered  then 
The  valiant  man  with  the  fearless  eyes. 

"  My  life,  Lord  Count,  is  not  for  gold, 

Your  money  all  to  the  keeper  give: 
Lost  in  the  Hood  is  his  little  all, 

Yet  he  and  his  wife  and  child  must  live." 

With  a  careless  smile  he  turned  and  went. 

This  man  with  the  frank  and  the  fearle-s  eye; 
We  -ing  of  his  fame,  but  what  was  his  name 

I*  known  alone  to  the  Lord  on  hii:h. 


PULLING    FINGERS. 


PUN   THAT  MAY  KILL. 

A  1  T  K  want  all  the  boys  who  are  in  the  habit  of  smoking 
T*  cigarettes,  of  who  are  bog-inning  to  learn  how  to 
smoke  them,  to  pay  attention  while  we  tell  them  of  a  sad 
event  that  recently  took  place  ill  one  of  our  Eastern 
cities. 

Among-  the  number  of  bright  boys  who  had  set  out  to 
become  business  men  was  a  lad  fifteen  years  of  age, 
employed  in  a  lawyer'*,  otlice.  During-  his  leisure  hours 
and  on  Sundays  lie  was  in  the  habit  of  smoking  cigar- 
ettes, the  smoke  of  which  he  inhaled.  From  this  he 
passed  to  chewing  tobacco,  and  it  is  said  that  when  he 
was  not  smoking  a  cigarette  he  always  had  tobacco  in  his 
mouth,  and  occasionally  combined  the  two.  His  parents 
endeavored  to  break  him  of  the  habit,  but  all  they  could 

-a\   ami  do  li.nl  i ll'ect.     His  health  soon  began  to  fail 

rapidly,  and  his  family,  who  were  not  aware  that  tobacco 
would  have  such  injurious  effects,  fancied  that  his  weak- 
ness was  caused  by  the  close  confinement  which  lie  had  to 
undergo  at  his  place  of  business. 

•  He  soon  became  so  ill  that  he  could  not  sleep  at  night, 
and  his  appetite  began  to  fail.  His  countenance  was  very 
sallow,  and  he  had  severe  headaches.  Finally  his  mother 
took  him  to  see  a  physician,  who,  on  examining-  him, 
thought  that  he  was  suffering  from  the  want  of  the  right 
kind  of  food,  and  prescribed  tonics  and  things  that  are 
nourishing  and  strengthening. 

But  instead  of  improving  in  health  the  poor  lad  con- 
stantly grew  worse,  and  was  soon  confined  to  his  bed. 
The  doctor  then  learned  that  the  boy  had  been  addicted 
to  the  excessive  use  of  tobacco  in  every  form,  and  he  came 
to  tbe  conclusion  that  his  patient  was  suffering  from  nico- 
tine poisoning.  Nothing  that  could  be  done  had  any  ef- 
fect in  restoring  the  suffering  boy.  He  lingered  for  about 
a  week,  when  congestion  of  the  lungs  set  in,  and  the  .heart 
began  to  fail  in  its  functions.  This  was  the  beginning  of 
the  end.  Within  twenty-four  hours  he  was  dead,  killed 
by  the  foolish  habit  he  had  formed  of  smoking  cigarettes 
and  chewing  tobacco. 

It  would  seem  as  if  such  a  story  as  this  would  be  all  the 
warning  a  boy  could  ever  want  against  cigarette  smok- 
ing. But  while  we  are  on  the  subject  we  want  to  tell  our 
boy  readers  something  more  about  this  foolish  habit,  and 
what  makes  it  so  dangerous  and  destructive  to  those  who 
practice  it. 

A  gentleman  who  writes  a  good  deal  for  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE, on  making  inquiries  of  one  of  the  largest  manufac- 
turers of  cigarettes  in  this  city,  was  informed  that  the 
annual  average  of  cigarettes  consumed  in  this  country 
amounts  to  not  less  than  a  thousand  millions. 

Now  perhaps  this  statement  in  itself  is  not  so  very  won- 


742 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


derful,  when  we  think  of  the  number  of  people  in  this 
country  of  ours;  but  take  it  in  connection  with  the  fact 
that  tlie  consumption  of  tobacco  and  cigars  has  not  de- 
creased in  that  time,  and  one  naturally  asks  how  it  is  that 
such  an  increase  can  be  had  in  one  form  of  smokers'  arti- 
cles without  a  falling-  off  iu  the  other  forms  of  the  material. 

A  gentleman  who  has  two  large  retail  tobacco  stores, 
mi  being  asked  the  reason  of  this  increased  demand,  said 
that  so  far  as  his  experience  could  hi-  relied  upon  it  was 
due  mainly  to  the  fact  that  they  were  consumed  largely 
by  boys  who  took  their  lessons  in  smoking  by  the  use  of 
these  miniature  cigars. 

Now  let  us  see  if  we  can  not  lind  out  a  few  facts  about 
the  materials  that  go  to  make  up  these  cigarettes  which 
are  so  universally  used : 


"I  can  tell  you  what  you  want  to  know,  or  I  can  tell 
you  how  to  find  out,  without  any  of  the  big  words  you 
are  afraid  of.  Smoke  one  cigarette,  then  put  a  clean  cam- 
bric handkerchief  to  your  mouth,  and  breathe  through  it 
two  or  three  minute.-.  You  will  lind  a  yellow  deposit, 
which  went  into  your  lungs,  and  if  you  have  any  com- 
mon-sense you  can  tell  yourself  whether  it  is  likely  to 
be  injurious."  Had  this  physician  known  of  the  story 
with  which  this  article  begins,  he  could  have  said  to  what 
extent  it  might  be  injurious. 

''Tobacco  does  not  often  kill  people,  for  we  know  lots 
of  old  men   who  have  always  used   it.  and  they   are  as 
lively  as  crickets."  some  bright  boy  may  urge.      But  if  he 
will 'study  into  the  matter  a  little  further  he  will   proba 
1)1  v   tind  out  that   these  men   either  did   not  use  tobacco 


bFconrse  the  cigarette  is  made  of  tobacco  rolled  in  what  :  when  they  were  growing  boys,  but  only  when  they  became 
is  called  rice-paper;  that  every  one  thinks  he  knows.  men, -with  their  minds  and  bodies  developed  and  harden 
Each  manufacturer  of  cigarettes  says  that  his  particular  ed  to  endurance,  or  that  they  had  strong  constitutions, 
house  uses  none  but  the  best.  Turkish,  Virginia,  or  Ha-  such  as  we  seldom  find  among  our  city  lad-  of  to-day. 

And  now,  boys,  for  a  last  argument,  even  though  it 
seems  a  trivial  one  after  the  terribly  sad  story  which  has 
been  told  you.  This  smoking  of  cigarettes  makes  you 
ridiculous.  Grown  people  think  you  silly,  and  laugh  at 
you  when  they  see  you  trying  to  be  men  by  this  silly 
caricaturing  of  what  all  grown-up  smokers  themselves 
foolish  and  senseless  habit.  See  what  fun 


vaiia  tobacco;  but  that  other  manufacturers  are  perhaps 
dishonest  enough  to  use  cheap  Maryland  or  Western 
leaves,  while  they  also  put  in  all  kinds  of  material,  such 
as  old  cigar  stubs,  and  odds  and  ends  of  all  kinds. 

It  is  quite  impossible  to  say  that  such  material  is  used; 
but  there  is  a  very  odd  kind  of  a  fact  to  he  taken  into  con- 
sideration, which  may  have  some  connection  with  the 
charges  some  people  make  against  cigarette  manufac-  our  artist  has  made  of  boy  smokers,  with  an  absurd  ap 


pronouiice  a 


hirers. 

Five  years  ago  there  were  but  few  cigarettes  made  in 
this  country,  and  at  that  time  the  ends  of  cigars  which 
were  thrown  into  the  street  were,  considered  worthless, 
unless  it  was  to  some  of  the  newsboys  and  boot-blacks  who 
were  willing  to  put  a  great  deal  of  dirt  in  their  mouths  for 
the  sake  of  a  smoke.  Three  years  ago  the  demand  for 
American-made  cigarettes  began  to  increase,  and  then  the 
ends  of  cigars  that  had  been  thrown  away  had  such  a  val- 
ue that  the  Italian  immigrants  in  this  city  began  to  gather 
them  from  the  street,  and  to-day  there  are  on  Crosby  and 
Mott  streets  alone,  as  has  been  found  from  personal  in- 
quiry, over  a  hundred  men  who  make  a  living  by  gather- 
ing this  refuse  tobacco.  That  number  may  lie  found  oil 
two  streets,  and  it  is  certainly  safe  to  say  there  are  others 
in  the  same  business. 

Is  it  not  just  a  trine  odd  that  as  the  demand  for  cigar- 
ettes increased,  so  did  that  for  cigar  stubs  ;  A  member 
of  a  largo  cigarette-manufacturing  company  said  to  the 
writer;  "You  have  heard  of  the  new  alkaloid  from  tobac- 
co which  a  French  chemist  has  just  discovered  '{  Well, 
our  chemist  was  on  the  point  of  making  that  discovery 
just  as  it  was  announced  to  the  world,  and  I  assure  you 
it  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  poisons,  being  very 
similar  to  sulphuric  acid." 

Every  boy  knous  that  rice-paper  wouldn't  hurt  a  Hy  in 
case  he  should  smoke  it;  therefore  when  lie  buys  cigar- 
ettes he  is  always  careful  to  get  those  which  are  wrapped 
in  that  kind  of  paper,  or  at  least  those  which  it  is  said 
have  rice-paper  around  them.  Now  let  any  boy  go  to  a 
paper  manufacturer  and  ask  him  the  simple  question  as 
to  whether  he  or  any  one  else  could  make  paper  from  rice, 
and  the  answer  will  be  that  rice  lias  no  fibre,  consequent- 
ly paper  could  not  be  made  from  it.  The  so-called  rice- 
paper  is  made  from  rice  straw,  and  it  is  easy  to  imagine 
just  how  much  rice  there  is  in  it.  The  cigarette  papers 
are  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  kind  of  tissue-paper  of 
different  degrees  of  fineness;  and  that  statement  came 
from  the  same  manufacturer  who  told  about  the  poison. 

It  is  well  known  that  tobacco  acts  to  a  certain  extent 
upon  the  brain  as  liquor  does.  Not  long  ago  a  gentleman 
who  was  anxious  to  know  how  this  stimulant  or  narcotic 
— since  it  acts  on  different  natures  in  both  ways — might 
a  IVect  the  brain  of  a  growing  boy.  asked  one  of  the  leading 
physicians  in  this  city  what  his  opinion  was  in  regard  to 
the  matter.  This  is  what  the  physician  replied  : 


paratus  for  consuming  half  a  bunch  at  a  time,  which  he 
thinks  may  yet  be  adopted  by  boys  if  this  injurious  fash- 
ion is  not  checked.  He  knows  what  silly  fellows  you  are. 
and  has  taken  this  way  of  laughing  at  you  and  showing 
you  how  ridiculous  you  can  make  yourselves. 


"DICK     AND 


A  1 1 1 1 1  o  i-    o  t 


BY    LUCY 

\I  il.lrcclV 


C. 


LILLIE. 

1  •  n  ;  1  1  1  1  .  "  "    '  '   IN  : 


CHAPTER   X.—  (I 'ontii, »,-</.) 

WHERE    IS    NOKRY  '. 

ELL,"  said  Mr.  Gurdle,  speaking  slowly,  and  with 
his  head  on  one  side  and  one  eye  closed,  "  if  you'll 
swear  you  won't  go  agin  what  I  have  to  say  to  you  once 
von're  there;  if  you'll  work.  sav.  all  the  week  for  me; 
well— I'll  think  of  it." 

Dick  wrung  his  hands  again.  His  lively  imagination 
began  to  picture  all  kinds  of  misery  and  ill  treatment 
that  Norry  might  be  suffering.  He  knew  that  the  fact  of 
his  being  separated  from  himself  was  enough  to  cause  the 
blind  boy  any  amount  of  pain,  and  to  be  among  strangers 
who  were  not  kind  to  him  would  be  a  terrible  experience 
to  the  poor  lad.  Dick  exclaimed,  eagerly : 

"Oh,  I'll   work;    yes,  yes,   indeed,  Mr.  Gurdle!     <  >h, 
couldn't  you  take  me  now  ?     Oh.  Norry  will  be  so  fright 
ened  without  me!     Oh.  he's  blind,  he's  blind!''  cried  poor 
Dick,  in  a  fresh  burst  of  sorrow. 

"Well,  now,  remember.  I'm — I'm  a  sort  of  keeper  of 
the  blind,"  said  Gurdle.  grandly ;  "  that  is  to  say,  it's  sort 
er  my  duty  to  pick  up  poor  blind  children  an'  have  'em 
taught  to  earn  their  living,  an'  if  I'm  kind  enough  to  take 
you  to  your  little  brother  you'll  have  to  pay  me  for  it  in 
work.  Do  you  hear  that  ?'' 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,  Mr.  Gurdle,  anything,"  repeated  Dick. 
This,  then,  he  thought,  was  just  what  his  mother  had  feared 
No  wonder  she  had  dreaded  the  "authorities." 

Poor  Dick,  as  almost  any  boy  of  his  age  will  see,  was 
very  unlearned  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  good  or  had. 
Poverty,  hunger,  cold,  and  terror,  were  almost  all  lie 


Uejrun  in  No.  M'.i.  IlM;ri.i:'s  y,,i  M.  PEOPLE. 


SKITKMRER  -Jr.,  1883. 


IIAUI'ER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


7-iC 


knew  of  life,  but  beyond  and  over  all  was  that  strangely 
solemn  trust  in  God.  Surely  the  widow  had  not  left  her 
boys  wholly  unprovided  for. 

Mr.  Gurdle-  rose  up  with  great  dignity,  and  told  Dick  to 
put  up  his  few  possessions  and  follow  him.  The  hoy  lin- 
gered n»  longer  than  was  absolutely  needful,  we  may  In- 
sure. The  bundle  was  i|uirkly  made  U|).  though  with 
trembling  lingers,  and  so  Hick  passed  out  of  tin-  allic  in 
( rill-die's  keeping. 

It  seemed  to  the  hoy  that  their  journey  would  never 
end.  Mr.  (iiirdle  conducted  him  across  the  .lersey  City 
l-YiT\  .  and  out  in  the  horse  cars  to  a  suburb,  of  which  I  >ick 
could  see  nothing  but  occasional  lights  gleani'my  in  tin- 
dark  and  the  rain.  \Vliitln-i-  lliey  were  hound  In-  cared 
nol.  so  long  as  it  led  to  Norry.  anil  he  was  too  well  accus- 
tomed to  the  lower  st  reel,  of  I  he  city  to  til  id  the  neighbor 
hood  strange  or  startling.  At  last  Mr.  (iin-dli-  turned 
down  a  sort  of  alley  with  houses  each  side.  and.  opening  a 
door,  led  Dick  up  two  flights  of  a  rickety  staircase.  It 
was  dark,  hut  as  they  wen-  nearly  at  the  top  hick  distin- 
guished a  tall  figure  on  the  landing,  and  could  have  heen 
certain  that  he  heard  the  voice  of  Mr.  Brooks. 

"  Is  that  you.  ( iiirdle  ; "  the  voice  said,  and  then  he  seem 
ed  to  see  (iiirdle  catch  hold  of  the  ligure.  and  knew  that 
he  whispered  something,  and  that  the  other  Mood  still 
while  they  passed. 

This  would  have  add. -d  lo  I ) ick'.s  terror  hut  for  his  being 
M>  bent  upon  re-achinir  Norry .  When  they  paused  before 
a  door  in  the  top  of  the  bouse-  his  hean  fairly  stood  still 
from  excitement  and  dread. 

Gurdle  put  a  key  into  the  lock,  turned  it.  pushed  hick 
in,  and  then,  closing  the  door  upon  him.  locked  it  on  the 

outside'. 

hick  at  tirsl  though!  he  was  alone,  and  in  a  trembling 
voice  said,  "Nori-y.  Xorry." 

To  Ills  joy  a  well-known  little  voice  answered.  "()li. 
Dicky.  Micky,  come,  come." 

And  Mick'  would  have  had  to  be  blind  and  dull  indeed 
had  he  not  heen  able  to  grope  his  way  to  the  place  where 
Norry  was  sitting  on  the  lloor. 

Km-  a  moment  I  he  t  wo  hrolhers  could  only  hold  each 
other  tightlv  for  joy.  and  then  in  hurried  whispers  Norry 
poured  forth  his  story.  How  that  afternoon  (iurdle  had 
come  and  taken  h  in  j.  a  way.  saying  Mick  would  come  soon, 
but  warning  him  to  make  no  resistance.  "  l!nl  he  heal 
me.  Mick."  Norry  whispered:  "and  I  know  he  struck 
Trusty,  he  whined  so  much.'' 

Dick  set  his  teeth  together  with  rage,  hut  what  could 
he  do?  He  felt  they  were  in  Gin-die's  power,  ami  if  he 
wanted  to  keep  near  to  Norry  he  must  do  this  man's  bid- 
ding. 

Norry's  next  communication  frightened  him  still  more. 

"Do  you  know.  Dick."  Xorry  whispered.  "  1  am  sure  I 
heard  that  Mr.  Hrooks's  voice.  I  feel  sure  I  did.  They 
\\ere  talking  on  the  ferry-boat.  I  think.  I  suppose  they 
didn't  think  I  heard,  but  I  heard  him  tell  (iurdle  that  the 
old  gent,  as  he  called  him.  would  go  to  Mai-plains  on  the 
seventeenth,  and  they  said  something  about  \\helher  he'd 
he  sure  to  have  the  money  up  there  with  him.  I  tried  to 
hear  more,  but  I  couldn't." 

"<>h,  Norry,"  Dick  said,  in  an  awe-struck  whisper, 
"what  could  it  mean?  Could  there  he  any  plot  against 
Mr.  Field  ?"  But  if  so,  why  should  they  want  him  and 
Norry  ?  What  could  they  do  .'  Dick  felt  almost  as  if  a 
stupor  of  terror  was  coining  over  him  as  he  sat  in  the  dark, 
li  old  ing  Norry's  hand  in  his.  and  dreading  Gin-die's  return, 
yet  longing  for  it.  that  he  might  know  just  what  was  to 
heci  ime  of  them.  And  then  he  thought  of  the  other  Dick, 
of  his  cheery  laugh,  his  ready  generosity.  ( Hi.  if  he  were 
but  here  now!  Dick  felt  as  if  he  could  work  forever, 
could  he  hope  to  be  once  more  in  the  comfortable  house 
on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  within  sight  of  Master  Dick. 

(.J urdle's  heavy  step  sounded  and  put  all  such  thoughts 


to  flight.  Within  live  minutes  of  his  return  Dick  began 
to  understand  what  was  in  store  for  them.  As  soon  as 
the  man  had  struck  a  light  he  came  over  to  where  the 
ho\  s  ,iml  Trusty  \\ere  crouching,  and  administering  a  vio- 
lent kick  to  the  poor  dog,  ordered  Dick  to  get  up  and  make 
a  tire.  While  the  hoy  was  doing  so  Gurdle  told  him  he 
meant  to  stand  no  nonsense.  Dick  should  do  as  he  was 
told,  or  Non-y  slum  Id  sutler  for  it  :  and  so  saying,  lie  look 
out  of  his  pocket  a  whip,  which  he  cracked  ominously  near 
the  poor  blind  boy. 

This  was  enough  for  Dick.  As  his  trembling  lingers 
moved  he  resolved  to  suffer  anything  to  save  Norry.  and 
so  he  watched  his  new  master  with  an  almost  painful 
eagerness,  el»in^  Ins  bidding  at  the  slightest  word,  and  al 
ways  seeking  to  ket  p  his  cruel  thoughts  away  from  the 
younger  hoy. 

A  wretched  week  of  imprisonment ,  half  starvation,  and 
ill  usage  followed.  The  boys  were  kept  in  the  dismal 
room,  locked  in  when  Gurdle  was  absent,  and  ill  treated 
when  he  was  with  them.  When  the  day  came  on  which 
he  informed  them  they  were  te>  "move  on"  Dick  tried  to 
feel  his  courage  rising.  Any  change  must  be  for  the-  best. 

They  started  late  one  chilly  afternoon,  and  apparently 
(iurdle  intended  to  walk  to  their  destination,  for  they 
tram] ted  atony  the  desolate  road  two  miles,  the  man  occa 
sionally  urying  them  on  by  a  push  or  a  blow  from  his 

stick,  hick  hi'lel  Norry's  hand  closely  in  his.  Both  boys 
were  w  eak  from  h  iinn'cr  and  the  ill  usage-  of  the  week,  but 
at  least  they  wen-  loyet  her. 

At  inubt  fall  Gurdle  stopped  al  a  low-looking  public 
house,  where  the  boys  were  given  a  piece  of  bread  for  sup- 
per, and  a  straw  bed  in  eme-  end  of  the  attic. 

What  was  to  lie  done  further  neither  of  them  could 
imagine.  Holding  Norry's  hand  in  his.  Dick  tried  to 
"think." 

<  IIAI'TKi;   XI. 

T  II  K      K  S  e     A  P  K. 

THK  room  where  Dick  and  Norry  had  been  given  a  be-el 
was  long  and  low.  with  three  dormer-windows,  full  of  bro- 
ken | lanes  of  glass;  the  roof  was  cross-beamed  and  very 
much  out  of  repair,  and  the  floor  creviced  with  time  and 
bad  us.-iiz'e. 

As  Dick  lay  thinking  out  what  to  do  his  eyes  fell  upon 
these  cracks  in  the-  flooring,  and  once  or  twice  he  fancied 
he  heard  the  murmur  of  voices  from  some  place  below. 
Norry.  holding  bis  hand  tightly,  had  fallen  asleep,  and 
softly  withdrawing  his  lingers  Dick  stole  out  of  bed  and 
over  to  the  part  of  the  lloor  where-  he-  he-ard  the  sounds. 

Midway  in  the  room  a  large  crack  enabled  him,  by  put- 
ting his  face  close  to  it,  to  look  down  into  the  room  below, 
and  there  he  felt,  rather  than  saw.  it  seemed  to  him.  tin- 
figure  of  Mr.  Brooks. 

Brooks  was  in  close  conversation  with  Mr.  Gurdle. 
Fora  moment  Dick  could  hear  nothing,  so  overpowering 
was  this  one  fact.  Brooks  there!  and  if  so,  for  what  pur- 
pose '.  Then  some  words  spoken  by  the  two  men  seemed 
to  float  up  to  the  boy,  who  listened  as  though  more  than 
his  safety  depended  upon  it.  He  knew  that  no  good  could 
be  intended,  and  he  now  felt  certain  that  a  plot  against 
Dr.  Field  was  in  progress. 

"Are  you  sure  you've  got  the  boys  well  under?''  Brooks 
was  saying.  And  Mr.  Gurdle  answered:  "Oh  yes.  They 
won't  dare  to  do  anything  agin  me.  You  say  the  fif- 
teenth is  the  best  time  '.  Wot  if  the  old  gentleman  hap- 
pens to  go  to  New  York  '." 

Mr.  Brooks's  voice  answered:  ''I'll  see  to  that.  I'll 
make  out  how  Master  Dick  is  ill,  and  he  has  to  come  home, 
or —  Here  Dick  lost  all  the  words  of  the  speaker.  Per- 
haps it  was  because  such  a  cold  terror  had  seized  him  that 
lie  could  not  hear,  perhaps  because  the  two  men  plotting 
a  crime  had  lowered  their  voices.  At  all  events,  he  heard 
no  more  for  ;\  few  moments.  The  next  words  audible  to 


744 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


his  strained  hearing  were,  "You  see,  the  boy  ain't  thought 
well  of  as  it  is." 

Dick  could  not  understand  just  what  this  meant,  yet  he 
felt  it  had  to  do  with  his  relations  to  Dr.  Field's  family. 
I  can  not  tell  why  the  boy  felt  so  sure  harm  was  meant 
toward  the  people  who  had  been  his  friends.  As  he  listen- 
ed there,  lying  on  the  floor,  for  a  few  moments  fairly  par- 
alyzed by  fear,  there  came  into  his  mind  one  strong  re- 
solve. Somehow  or  in  sonic  fashion  lit-  must  reach  Mar- 
plains  before  these  wicked  men  got  there. 

He  turned  himself  over  as  noiselessly  as  possible  and 
looked  at  Norry.     The  boy  lay  asleep,  with  Trusty  curled  i 
up  beside  him.      He  could  not  leave  them;  he  dared  not  I 
alarm  Norry;  yet  he  could  not  let  Gurdle  or  Mr.  Brooks  ! 
have  any  idea  of  what  he  intended  to  do.    And  where  was 
Marplains  ?     Dick  recalled  Master  Bearing's  talk  about  it. 
"  On  the  Field  and  Bearing  road, "he  had  said,  "  twenty 
miles  from  New  York."     Well,  the  best  way  would  be  to 
escape  if  they  could  and  walk  along  the  road,  asking  their 
way  and  trusting  to  reach  Marplains  in  time—in  time  for 


and  saw  that  there  was  a  shed  under  the  window,  and  this 
encouraged  him.  They  could  at  least  try  what  would  be 
the  result  of  escaping  by  this  means. 

"  Norry, "he  said,  touching  the  boy  softly,  "  wake  up; 
don't  make  a  row." 

The  blind  boy  moved  uneasily,  then  sat  up  and  stretched 
his  little  hand  out  to  meet  his  brother's  touch.  "  Listen, 
Norry.  We've  got  to  run  away  again.  Now  don't  you 
make  any  fuss;  let  me  do  it  all,  only  mind  you  don't 
make  any  noise." 

Norry  had  grown  so  used  to  Dick's  managing  things 
that  he  simply  sat  up  without  a  word,  while  Dick  moved 
softly  about,  gathering  up  one  or  two  things.  Carefully 
lifting  Trusty  in  his  arms,  he  covered  him  with  an  old 
comforter.  Then  he  took  Norry  by  the  hand  and  went 
over  to  the  window. 

Once  out  upon  the  shingle  roof,  Dick  had  to  explain  to 
Norry  that  he  would  place  him  firmly  on  one  of  the  pil- 
lars of  the  porch.  He  must  then  slide  down,  after  which 
Dick  and  Trustv  would  follow. 


"THEY   TRAMPED    ALONG    THE   DESOLATE   ROAD.' 


what  ?    He  only  felt  sure  that  it  would  be  in  time  to  avert 
something  dreadful. 

So  thinking,  Dick  stole  carefully  to  the  window  and 
looked  out.  There  was  the  railroad  track,  two  black 
lines  in  the  snow  ;  trees  stood  out  around  them  ;  there 
seemed  to  be  very  few  houses  and  very  few  lights,  but 
Dick  knew  if  they  followed  the  track  they  woulcl  be  safe. 
But  how  to  get  out  to  it  ?  A  little  fall  of  snow  from  some 
point  startled  him.  It  was  from  a  ledge  of  the  roof,  and 
struck  something.  Dick  peered  closer  against  the  pane. 


It  may  have  been  because  the  blind  child  trusted  so  en- 
tirely to  Dick  that  he  obeyed  all  these  instructions  with- 
out a  word  ;  at  all  events,  Dick  had  never  found  Norry 
more  easily  managed.  He  whispered  directions  to  him, 
told  him  what  to  do,  and  saw  him  glide  down  the  pillar. 
A  moment  later,  and  with  Trusty  in  his  arms,  Bick  had 
easily  accomplished  the  same  feat. 

The  two  boys  with  the  dog  were  once  again  homeless 
and  alone  in  the  world. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


SEPTEMBER  25,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  FEOIM.K. 


745 


MR.  THOMPSON'S  ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  BAT. 

BY  ALLAN  FORMAX. 

MR.  THOMPSON  and  the  rest  of  the  summer  boarders 
were   sitting  on  the  piazza  of  the  farm-house  one 
even  ing-    early   in    September,  when    one    of   the    ladies 
screamed.     With  a  whir  and  a  "tweet"  a  dark  object 
tlhk'd  over  the  heads  of  the  company. 


"  What  was  that  '"  asked  Miss  Angelina. 
"  ( )nl  v  a  bird,"  answered  another  lady. 
•'It  was  a  horrid  bat,"  protested  the  one  who 
bad  screaiin  d. 

"Isn'l  a  bat  a  bird  :" 
"No;  a  bat  is  a  mouse." 

Tin'  discussion  waxed  warm,  and  Mr.  Thomp- 
son prudently  withdrew.  He  sought  the  seclu- 
sion of  his  own  room,  and  seating  himself  by  the 
open  window,  fell  to  thinking.  The  young  man 
who  boarded  at  the  farm-house  says  he  fell  asleep. 
But  Mr.  Thompson  claims  not,  and  he  surely  ought 
to  know  which  way  he  fell.  At  all  events  he 
had  not  been  sitting  there  long  when  he  heard  a 
slight  whir  over  his  bead,  and  upon  glancing  up 
saw  the  bat  darting  to  and  fro. 

"What  are  you  after  ?"  asked  Mr.  Thompson. 
"Mosquitoes,"  replied  the  bat  in  a  squeaky  voice, 
not  unlike  the  cry  of  a  mouse. 

"  You  can  have  them,"  said  Mr.  Thompson,  generously. 
"Thank    you,"  replied   the   bat,  in   a   sarcastic    tone. 
"Why  don't  you  try  to  drive  me  out  with  your  towel,  as 
you  did  the  last  time  I  called  ?" 

Mr.  Thompson  muttered  something  under  his  breath, 
and  then  added  aloud,  "I  really  did  not  know  what  you 
wanted." 

The  bat  consented  to  forgive  him.  and,  after  a  few  more 


746 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


wild  dashes  across  the  room,  it  came  and  settled  itself  on 
the  window-sill  near  Mr.  Thompson. 
"So  you  live  upon  mosquitoes  '." 

"Not  entirely.  We  eat  gnats,  moths,  Hies,  and  in  fact 
almost  any  small  insect  which  comes  in  our  way.' 

••  Then  you  don't  bite  people  and  suck  their  blood  while 
thev  are  asleep  '."  asked  Mr.  Thompson,  with  a  vague  recol- 
lection of  having  once  heard  something  of  the  kind. 

The  bat  laughed.      "I  guess  you  refer  to  the  vampire- 
hats  of  Brazil, "it  said.     "They  sometimes  bleed  a  horse  or 
cow  to  death,  but  they  rarely  attack  human  beings." 
Mr.  Thompson  shuddered. 

"What  about  that  story  of  your  getting  fast  in  ladies' 
hair?" 

"That,  is  all  nonsense  too,"  answered  the  bat.      'We 
never  do  anything  of  the  kind:  on  the  contrary,  we  can  j 
tell  by  the  feeling  of  the  air  when  we  are  near  any  obsta-  j 
ele.  and  we  always  avoid  it.      That  has  been   proved  by  | 
the  great  naturalist  Cuvier.  who  put  out  the  eyes  of  some 
bats  he  caught,  and  let  them  loose  in  a  room  with  a  ".Tea! 
many  strings  stretched  across  it.      The  bats  Hew  up  and 
down,  and  over  the  strings,  and  never  touched  one.' 
•'  After  their  eyes  were  put  out  '." 

"Yes.      You  know  that   the  atmosphere  is  in  constant 
motion,  like  the  sea.  and  the  sense  of  feeling  or  touch  is 
so  delicate  in  us  that  we  can  tell  when  the  air  wa»-es  are 
broken  by  any  solid  object  without  touching  it." 
"Wonderful1."  exclaimed  Mr.  Thompson. 
"  How  would  you  like  to  come  and  see  how  we  live  ;" 
Mr.  Thompson   says  that    he  don't    know  how  it    hap- 
pened, but  he  thinks  that  it  must  have  gone  on  while  he 
was  talking  to  his  strange  visitor.     At  all  events,  he  found 
himself  floating  out  of  the  window  a  full-Hedged,  or  per- 
haps one  should  say  a  full-furred,  bat.     The  spirit  of  mis- 
chief prompted  him  to  dash  wildly  across  the  piazza,  and 
he  twittered  in  glee  at  the  alarm  of  the  ladies. 

"Look  out!"  screamed  one:  "it  will  get  in  your  hair!" 

"  Now  is  my  chance."  thought  Mr.  Thompson.     "  1  will 

ire!   a   lock  of  Miss  Angelina's  hair  without  her  knowing 

it  is  I."      Accordingly  he  dashed  over  her  head,  and  in 

passing  caught  a  little  piece  of  her  bang  in  his  claws. 

"  Oh.  the  horrid  thing  has  hold  of  my  hair !"  screamed 
Miss  Angelina,  in  terror. 

"Kill  it!"  said  one.  "Pick  it  off!"  cried  another.  "Hit 
it!"  screamed  a  third.  The  whole  party  were  in  wild 
alarm.  Finally  one  of  the  gentlemen  solved  the  difficul- 
ty by  cutting  off  the  lock  with  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  Mr. 
Thompson  fluttered  away,  bearing  his  prize  in  triumph. 

At  last  they  reached  an  old  stone  barn.  A  part  of  the 
roof  had  fallen  in,  and  through  this  break  they  dashed. 
Hanging,  head  down,  by  one  claw,  with  a  small  bat  folded 
in  her  wings,  was  a  mother  bat ;  beside  her.  hanging  to  the 
wall,  was  another  young  one. 

"Had  your  supper?"  asked  Mr.  Thompson's  friend,  as 
he  hung  himself  by  his  heels  from  a  beam  not  far  away. 
"No,"  answered  Mrs.  Bat. 

"  Better  go  and  get  it.  I'll  look  after  the  children." 
Mrs.  Bat  twisted  herself  around,  and  stuck  the  young 
one's  heels  into  a  soft  place  in  the  mortar.  There  it  hung, 
head  down,  a  little  bunch  of  hair  and  India-rubber-like 
wings.  The  mother,  disengaging  herself,  fluttered  out 
through  the  break  in  the  root'. 

"How  nice  it  would  be,'' thought  Mr.  Thompson,  "if 
people  could  only  hang  their  babies  up  on  the  wall  when 
I  hey  wanted  to  go  out  I" 

Presently  the  mother  came  back  and  assumed  her 
place  beside  her  young  ones.  They  bade  her  "good-by," 
and  left  the  barn. 

"Are  the  vampires  the  only  large  species  of  your  fami- 
ly ?"  asked  Mr.  Thompson. 

"  <  )h,  my,  no!"  responded  Mr.  Bat.  "  We  vary  in  size 
from  the  small  bat  of  Europe,  which  is  hardly  larger  than 
a  young  mouse,  to  the  kalorg,  or  Hying  fox,  of  Java  and 


Ceylon,  which  has  a  stretch  of  wings  of  over  six  feet.    We 
will  take  a  run  over  and  see  them  if  you  like.'' 
"But  it  is  a  long  Hy."  objected  Mr.  Thompson. 
"Nonsense,"  replied  the  bat;   "it  is  nothing.      All  yon 
have  to  do  is  to  wish  yourself  there,  and  there  you  are." 
Mr.  Thompson  kept  tight  hold  of  his  lock  of  hair  and 
murmured,  "  1  wish  I  was  in  Java."      To  his  surprise;  the 
earth  began  to  revolve  rapidly,  while  he  remained  station- 
ary in  the  air. 

"You  see."  explained  his  companion,  "  we  take  advan- 
tage of  the  fact  that  the  earth  moves.  We'll  just  keep 
still,  and  drop  down  on  Java  when  it  rolls  up.  The  earth 
revolves  on  its  axis  once  in  twenty-four  hours,  as  yon 
know.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  keep  still  and  we  can  go 
round  the  world  in  a  day." 

The  explanation  looked  reasonable,  and  Mr.  Thompson 
was  just  making  up  his  mind  to  always  adopt  this  ineib 
ed  of  travelling  in  future,  and  thus  avoid  the  perils  and 
unpleasantness  of  a  sea-voyage,  when  he  began  to  feel  tin- 
air  grow  warmer  and  to  perceive  that  it  was  laden  with  the 
odor  of  spices. 

"Here  we  are!"  exclaimed  his  guide,  alighting. 
Thev  were  in  a  dense  forest  or  jungle  of  tropical  trees 
All  was  quiet  and  f.till  save  the  occasional  sharp  bark  of 
the  jackal  or  the  deep  roar  of  a  lion  in  the  distance.     Sud 
denly  there  was  a   great    fluttering,  and  a  crowd  of  dark 
bodies  appeared  through  the  branches. 

"They  are  coming  back  from  the  sugar  fields  or  the 
fruit  orchards."  whispered  Mr.  Thompson's  companion. 
"They  go  out  every  night  to  feed  on  bananas  and  sugar 
cane,  or.  in  fact,  any  kind  of  fruit,  and  one  flock  can  do 
an  immense  amount  of  damage  in  a  few  hours.  They 
always  travel  in  Hocks,  sometimes  so  many  together  as  to 
obscure  the  moon. 

Mr.  Bat  paused.  All  was  quiet  again,  but  hanging 
from  every  branch  was  one  or  more  of  the  kalorgs.  looking 
like  a  bag  hung  up  by  a  corner,  with  a  fox's  head  stick- 
ing out  of  the  bottom.  They  wrapped  their  leathery 
wings  about  themselves  like  great  cloaks,  and  gazed  about 
with  their  sharp  black  eyes  in  a  most  comical  fashion. 
One  nearest  to  Mr.  Thompson  stared  at  the  poor  man  so 
fixedly  that  he  thought  surely  he  was  discovered,  and  in 
his  alarm  he  dropped  the  precious  lock  of  hair. 

His  companion  saw  how  frightened  he  had  become, 
and  mercifully  whispered  that  it  was  time  to  return.  Mr. 
i  Thompson  was  only  too  delighted  with  the  suggestion, 
j  and  they  fluttered  up  above  the  trees,  and  waited  in  mid- 
air while  the  earth  turned  under  them.  But  this  time  the 
rapid  movement  of  the  planet  seemed  to  make  Mr.  Thomp- 
son dizzy.  He  l>egan  to  fall  just  as  the  ocean  was  rolling 
under  him.  The  spray  dashed  into  his  face,  and  the  wa- 
ter lapped  his  feet.  He  made  one  despairing  leap,  and 
found  himself  standing  beside  the  window  in  his  own 
room.  The  sash  was  up,  and  a  heavy  shower  had  com- 
menced; his  feet,  which  had  been  resting  on  the  window 
sill,  were  soaked  with  the  cold  rain. 

Mr.  Thompson  closed  his  window,  and  went  to  bed.  He 
determined  not  to  say  anything  about  his  adventure:  but 
at  the  breakfast  table  one  of  the  ladies  remarked, 

"  I  am  so  afraid  of  bats,  and  particularly  of  their  getting 
fast  in  my  hair." 

'A  bat  never  gets  fast  in  your  hair."  said  Mr.  Thomp- 
son, with  an  air  of  great  wisdom. 

"But  one  did  last  night."  said  Miss  Angelina.  "They 
had  to  cut  oft'  a  piece  of  my  bang." 

Mr.  Thompson  felt  anxiously  in  his  pocket. 
"1  lefl   it.  in  Java,"  he  murmured. 
"  Left  what  ;"  inquired  all.  in  chorus. 
Mr.  Thompson  was  at  first  disinclined  to  speak  on    the 
subject,  but  finally,  by  dint   of  judicious  questioning,  the 
whole  story  came  out.     He  retired  in  high  dudgeon  when 
the  young  man  win.  hoarded  at  the  house  suggested  that 
it  was  nothing  but  a  nightmare. 


H.ITKMHEK  'J.V    I-- 


ilAUPKIl'S   yi>r.\(T  PEOPLE. 


747 


CANADIAN    DAI'S 

HY    El>\\  AHII    I     STKV  KXsoN. 

III. 
JiKl.lVKi:  \Xi  K. 

Hi  >M    the    looks  of  the 
sky.  we  are  certain 
ly   going   to   have   a 
change  of  weather." 

.said     Cal.        "I     am 
afraid    there   will    lie 
a  .storm.  <  iabrid." 
I  lain  id   made  no  re- 
ply, and   ( 'al   saw   that 
he    was   sitting  a    little 
apart     from     the     rest, 
and  with  his  back  turn- 
ed to  I  hem. 

"  What    are  you  do- 
ing. (  iabrli'l    :"   I  'al  vert 

inquired. 

1 1 1-  friend  seemed  to 
be  writing. 

\  on    say  that    \  on 
think  a  storm  threaten-  u-.  >"  asked  (iabrid.  looking  up. 
"  It  looks  so."  replied  (  'al. 

"And  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  I  he  \Vliih1  Si/nn/l 
iievcr  can 

N  6S,"  answered  Cal.  interrupting  him. 
"Very  well.      Read  that,  then."  Gabriel  returned,  hold- 
ing   out    a    piece  of  coarse    paper   lorn   from  something,  on 

which,  with  a  leaden  "sinker.'' were  scrawled  these  words: 

"Somewhere    on     I^ike    Superior.    September     — ,     Is; 
We.  Clarence    Calvert.  .lob    Waller.   Felix    and    Stephen 
Iteaubien.  and  Gabriel   de  Zoiiche.  of  Prince's  Settlement. 

Ontario,  Canada,  are  today  Driftim:  on  o,ir  llat't  11 '////<• 
,S'i/if<(//.  We  Don  I  Know  Where  we  Are.  ('an  not  See 
ill  Smoke.  Were  Burned  out  of  Our  Camp  t  w  o  I  >a\  s  ago. 
\\"e  Kxpect  a  Storm 

"Well,  what  else:  And  what  are  \  oil  going  to  do 
with  that  thing,  at  any  rale.'"  said  Calverl.  ([ilickly. 
glancing  from  tin-  scrawled  scrap  of  paper  to  Gabriel's 
still  face.  His  friend  made  no  answer,  but  preseiith  look 
the  billet  from  Calvert's  hand,  and  added  to  ils  me.— ai_'e. 

"Good  By  All.      G.  d.Z." 

The  linished  .sentence  came  home  to  Cal  like  an  arrow  . 
He  said  no  more,  bill  silently  watched  Gabriel  as  be  took 
a  mink  skin  from  beside  him  and  rolled  the  Idler  within 
it.  Then  with  a  leal  her  shoe  string  he  drew  all  tin1  corners 
of  the  skin  so  lightly  together,  and  thonged  them  so  even- 
ly and  close!  \  .  that  water  could  not  easily  penetrate  to  the 
contents.  (iabrid  then  secured  the  skin  with  a  stout  cord 
to  the  butt  of  a  light  lishing  10  I.  and  slyly  looking  around, 
to  be  sure  that  his  action  would  not  be  noticed  by  .lob  and 
the  two  others,  he  hurled  rod  and  skin  far  out  on  to  the 
waters.  Then  his  eye-  met  Calvert's. 

The  other  boy  had  just  put  c.u;  his  hand  to  clasp  his 
friend's  in  token  of  sympathy,  when  their  attention  was 
suddenly  attracted  by  one  of  the  party,  who  cried  out : 

"Look  there!  What  can  that  thing  be  '.  It's  coming 
toward  us!" 

A  curious  dark  object  was  tloating  at  a  considerable 
distance,  and  seemed  to  be  advancing  through  the  mists. 
It  loomed  up  clearly  now— a  huge,  charred  tree  trunk,  on 
which  moved  restlessly  up  and  down  a  dark  animal.  The 
iio\  s  forgot  their  anxieties  as  they  recogni/ed  a  very  young' 
black  bear  balancing  himself  upon  his  ark  of  safety. 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Job:  "he  has  been  forced  to  run 
from  the  fire  just  as  we  did.  Only  lie  has  had  to  swim 
for  it,  I  dare  say,  until  he  paddled  up  to  that  pine  there." 

"  It  seems  cruel  to  tire  at  him,"  spoke  Cal's  quiet  voice 
from  behind  the  four,  "but  I  must  do  it."  He  had  re 
inembered  that  their  larder  was  fast  becoming  empty. 


The  \Yliiti-  Si/iiii/l  was  fairly  abreast  of  the  great  lloat 
ni".  pine  trunk  by  this  time.  Ils  shairyy  young  passenger 
\\  as  starincr  mournfully  across  al  the  raft.  Perhaps  he 
learned  his  lirsl  and  last  lesson  in  human  kindness  as, 
with  Cal's  ami  ( iabriel's  bullets,  he  dropped  into  the  water 
with  one  cry  of  pain. 

The  contents  of  the  hair  were  beginning  to  run  threat- 
eningly low.  Cahert.  King  awake  in  the  night,  thoiiu  lit 
gloomily  Of  this  and  the  general  prospects  before  him  and 
lii--  companions.  He  thought  on.  until,  all  at  once,  a  light 
wind  be<_rai!  to  come  in  putt's. 

"The    \\aler    Is    ri'llljlleninir."    spoke    .lob's    voice    ill     the 

darknes-        "  | ),,  you  think  the  storm  is  up.  Cal  '." 

"  1  don't  know  what  to  think."  responded  Calvert.  rai.s 
inir  himself  on  his  elh.iw.  and  gently  drawing  his  hand 
away  from  <  iabriel's  clasp.  "There  is  something  curious 
about  this  wind." 

Strange  to  say.  it  continued,  that  newly  risen  bree/.e. 
but  did  not  swell  to  angrier  strength.  It  kept  on  slead\  . 
fresh  and  warm.  Soon  it  seemed  to  have  shifted  ils  quar- 
ter entirely,  and  a  thrill  of  hope  trembled  within  (  'a  1  vert's 
heart  as  he  felt  it  full  and  gentle,  making  the  waveleK 
leap  before  i I,  and  ili reel  from  the  south  -the  blessed  south. 

r.el'ore  such  a  hree/c  must  the  mist  and  smoke',  the  fog 
and  dri/./.le.  tly  apace. 

The  boy  could  contain  himself  no  longer  now.       "  Ke! 
io\\s'   fellows!"   lie  cried  out.  joyously.  "  I  say!      Do  you 
feel  this  hree/c  ;      Well,  if  it   keeps  on   from   where  it  does 
HOW 

"  What  of  it  .'  What  will  happen  .'"  exclaimed  iiv." 
voices,  eagerly. 

"  Wh\  .  we  siiall  see  the  sun  or  the  coast  line  to  mor- 
row !"  ( 'al  concluded  his  sentence  with  something  like  a 
choke  in  his  voice. 

Would  what  he  had  said  come  about  .' 

Il  did.  All  night  lony  came  from  the  sunny  south 
that  blessed  wind  of  hope  and  rescue  to  the  weary  crew 
of  the  \\'liitr  Si/iitt/l.  Before  it.  far  overhead,  and  round 
about,  went  rushing  back  to  the  north  those  vast  columns 
of  smoke  and  vapor.  With  straining  eyes  the  light  wa. 
watched  for.  wherein  lay  either  rescue  or  the  crudest  of 
disappointments.  And.  anil  when  slowly  a  struggling 
white  mounted  Ihe  easl  i  for  the  lirst  time  in  three 'days 
knoun  as  the  east  I ;  when  a  pale  rosy  Hush  followed  it, 
and  deepened  into  red  and  purple;  when  the  sun,  the  old 
glorious  yellow  sun.  leaped  into  sight  and  brought  out  ill 
plain  view  on  the  right  of  the  \Vlii tf  Si/n/i/l  a  low  line  of 
dark  coast — ah!  do  you  uonder  that  all  these  beautiful 
things  were  greeted  with  ringing  cheers  from  Cal.  Gabriel, 
.lob.  and  the  two  Beaubiens.  until  a  silence  followed  in 
which  nobody  thought  of  looking  to  see  if  there  were  tears 
in  his  neighbor's  eyes  -  for  very  good  reasons? 

This  story    is   done:    for   with    the    huiding   that   same 
afternoon  of  the  crew  of  the  Whitr  Sijuall  hadn't  it  bet 
ter  be  : 

How  Cal  and  Gabriel  piloted  the  rest  of  the  party  safe- 
ly back'  to  aii  unbiirned  Canada  village  called  Prince's 
Settlement,  within  a  two  days'  tramp  of  their  landing 
place:  how  they  were  received  hy  the  friends  and  relatives 
there:  how  the  stories  of  the  escape  of  the  boys  and  the 
equally  narrow  one  of  the  Settlement  were  compared— 
why.  any  one  in  the  village  can  tell  the  reader  these 
things  if  lie  will  go  up  there  next  summer. 

A  few  days  after  their  return  Cal  and  Gabriel  walked 
over  to  Arrowhead  Point  to  find  their  late  cam])  ashes, 
and  the  brush  about  it  burned  to  the  beach.  But  strangest 
of  all  was  their  linding,  late  in  October,  some  three  or 
four  miles  up  the  coast,  a  broken  lishing-rod  lying  on  the 
sands.  To  it  was  tied  securely  a  draggled  mink-skin,  con- 
taining a  damp  paper  whereon  were  scrawled  a  few  faint 
lines,  beginning.  "Somewhere  on  Lake  Superior.  Sep- 
tember — .  1ST-."  and  ending.  "  Good-By  All.  G.  d.  Z." 


748 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


-•  FANCY  EMBROIDERY  FOR  GIRLS. 

BY  SUSAN  HAYES  WARD. 

•MONG-  a  collection  of 
articles  that  had  been 
brought  from  China  I 
once  saw  a  beautiful 
scarlet  cape.  It  was 
stiff  with  embroidery, 
which  seemed  at  first 
sight  to  be  very  elabo- 
rate and  difficult;  but 
on  examining  it  I  saw 
that  the  intricate  pat- 
tern which  went  wav- 
ing and  curving  all 
over  the  garment  was 

all  wrought  in  the  simplest  of  stitches — so  simple,  in  fact, 
that  a  mere  child  might  have  done  it. 

First  a  line  was  worked  in  stem  stitch,  as  at  the  line  1, 
2,  in  Fig.  19,  and  then  stitches  were  taken  each  side  of  the 
line,  giving  a  feathery  effect,  as  seen  in  Fig.  20.  These 
stitches  should  be  taken  first  on  the  right  side  of  the  line, 
making  a  long  stitch  on  the  upper  side  of  the  cloth  and  a 
short  one  below,  working  from  you.  and  then  the  stitches 
should  come  down  on  the  left  side  of  the  line,  working 
toward  you,  as  shown  at  C  and  D  (Fig.  20).  I  know  of 
no  stitch  so  easy  as  this,  and  none  more  effective  for  the 
amount  of  work.  The  petals  of  the  little  flowers  are  made 
by  a  single  stitch,  like  a  chain  stitch  (see  E,  Fig.  20),  then 
the  needle  is  pushed  through  the  cloth  and  brought  out  on 
the  under  side,  thus  making  a  little  point  to  each  petal. 
This  is  the  easiest  and  prettiest  way  to  work  daisy  petals. 

This  design  (Fig.  20)  would  be  pretty  for  a  border  to  a 
linen  apron,  worked  in  two  shades  of  silk,  the  lines  darker 
than  the  little  feathery  rays  or  flowers.  It  would  also  do 
well  as  a  border  for  any  kind  of  tea  cloth  or  bureau  cover, 
and  could  be  worked  very  rapidly. 

Girls  who  say  they  do  not  like  these  "washed-out"  col- 
ors often  ask  me  for  some  pretty  design  to  work  on  maroon 


FIG.  Ml 


FIG.  20. 


felt  or  cloth.  One  of  the  best  maroon  stripes  I  have  ever 
made  is  represented  in  Fig.  19.  It  is  set  with  other  stripes 
and  colors  in  an  olive  portiere,  but  it  can  very  well  stand 
alone.  The  stripe  is  a  rich  maroon.  The  Chinese  feather 
stitch,  1,  2  and  3,  4,  is  worked  in  a  lighter  shade  of  maroon 
or  cardinal,  and  the  flowers  in  a  shade  so  much  lighter  as 
to  be  quite  scarlet.  The  stripe  is  held  in  place  by  black 
worsted  braid,  button-holed  down  in  yellow,  and  orna- 
mented with  a  line  of  herring-bone  of  the  same  color. 

This  curtain  stripe,  of  just  the  width  here  given,  was 
worked  before  the  days  of  crewels,  in  ordinary  worsteds, 
but  it  can  be  made  finer  and  smaller,  and  worked  in  either 
crewels  or  silks.  I  give  the  full  width,  as  many  of  you 
will  be  likely  tohaveshades  of  scarlet  and  cardinal  worsteds 
on  hand.  The  space  from  F  to  G,  leaving  out  the  braid, 
would  do  well  for  a  border  around  a  maroon  felt  table 
cover  or  across  the  ends  of  a  table  scarf  of  the  same  color. 
It  should  be  worked  an  inch  and  a  half  or  two  inches  from 
the  edge,  and  it  can  be  done  by  a  girl  ten  years  old  as 
easily  as  by  one  of  twenty  if  the  lines  are  only  ruled, 
which  can  be  done  with  a  colored  pencil  (yellow),  or  with 
a  piece  of  chalk. 


SEPTEMBER  2. I,  1883. 


HARPER-S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


749 


.     *mWf- 
y  *•  itiif^ 


/S    ON  THK  FLY. 


NOTE,— The  size  of  the  ball  shows 
the  way  it  tvit. 


"Jes'  look  at  my  nose  '." 
"  Jes'  look  at  my  bat  1" 


With  a  scientific  twist. 


••  What  sort  of  umpin  you  call  dat?" 
BASE-BALL    AT    SCEEAMERSVILLE. 


750 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


YOI.r.ME  IV. 


NAPLI>,  ITALY. 

Yesterday  I  went,  with  papa  to  Ischia  to  see 
the  effects  of  that  terrible  earthquake  by  which 

nearly  -'nun  i pie  lost  their  lives.    It  occurred 

on  the  SSth  of  July,  at  fl.SH  P.M.  From  the  sea  we 
saw  a  house  levelled  to  the  ground  just,  as  if  it 
had  never  been  built.  All  of  the  houses  at  ( 'asa- 
mieciola  were  completely  ruined,  except  the  bath- 
in"  establishment,  which  was  damaged  in  places, 
and  had  fallen  in.  The  Monte  dclla  Misencordia, 
a  hospital  for  suffering  children,  had  disappear- 
ed entirely.  It  was  fitted  up  for  two  or  three 
hundred  children,  but,  a  change  was  being  made, 
and  only  twenty-seven  children  were  in  it,  and 
some  sister-  of  charity  who  took  care  ot  them, 
i  if  the  nuns  and  children  not  one  was  saved. 

Then  we  saw  the  house  where  the-  son  ot  the 
KnHish  r|rrg\man  of  Naples  was  killed.  His 
room  fell  in.  and  his  bed  turned  quite  over  on 
him  and  he  was  smothered.  He  was  found  with- 
out, a  bruise.  An  English  gentleman  who  had 
taken  a  house  for  the  summer  had  come  in  with 
iii-  family  to  Naples  the  day  before  on  business 
and  so  escaped  :  had  they  remained,  they  would  ; 
have  all  been  crushed  to  death,  as  their  house  j 
was  thrown  flat.  An  English  lady  had  built  a 
lovely  house  twelve  years  ago.  and  had  resided 
there,  but  the  house  is  ruined,  and  sin-  will  not 
build  it  again.  Papa  went  with  her  up  a  ladder 
i  o  the  second  floor,  the  stairs  being  I  in  'ken  down. 

Then  we  went  to  Laceo.  where  the  walls  here 
and  there  were  cracked  a  little.  At  Forio  not 
many  houses  were  shaken  down.  Casamicciola 
was  the  great  watering-place  of  the  island,  and 
the  principal  hotel  there  was  the  Piccola  Senti- 
n«lla,  which  fell  in  to  a  great  extent,  and  killed  a 
great  many  people.  One  of  our  American  friends 
was  stopping  there  for  the  summer, and  she'  was 
hurl  so  that  she  afterward  died.  Her  courier,  a 
devoted  old  servant,  was  with  us.  and  we-  went 
into  her  rooms,  which  were  not  injured,  except 
a  thin  partition  wall,  which  fell  on  her  as  she 
wa-  trying  to  escape.  Had  she  remained  seated 
where  she  was,  or  been  in  her  bedroom,  or  run 
to  the  back  door, she  would  not  have  been  hurt, 
but  she  ran  toward  the  only  spot  when'  the 
-i one's  fell.  Her  old  servant  was  beside  himself 
with  grief,  it  being  the  first  time  he  had  been 
back  to  the-  place  since  she  died. 

The  large  dining-room  and  the  bedrooms  did 
not  fall  in.  so  if  the  earthquake  had  come'  a  little- 
earlier,  when  the  people  were  at  dinner,  en-  a,  lit- 
tle; later,  when  they  would  have  been  in  bed. 
they  would  have  escaped,  but  they  were  mostly 
in  the  large  saloon,  where  there  was  tej  have 
bei'ii  a  concert.  Thirty-one  people  were  killed 
in  t  his  hotel. 

\  scientific  student  says  it  is  an  explosion  of 
-learn  from  the  hot,  waters  under-ground  that 
causes  these  earthquakes.  <IDI;I.L  D- 

We-  are  very  nine  h  obliged  to  you  for  this  vivid 
description  of  the  ruin  which  came'  upon  Ischia 
through  that  terrible  calamity. 


iiir.iV  iM'isTiiiAL  HOME,  DELAWARE,  OHIO. 

I  have  thought  for  many  months  past  of  writ- 
ing a  letter  to  the  Post-office  Box.  as  I  ha\e  seen 
letters  from  many  places  in  this  State,  hut  none 
from  the  Girls1  Home.  1  wonder  if  any  of  the 
boys  and  girls  away  out  in  the  Western  States 
anil  Territories  have  ever  heard  of  the  largest 
Home  of  this  kind  in  the  Tutted  States.  The  in- 
stitution is  supported  entirely  by  the  State.  I 
do  not  think  that  I  ran  do  it  justice  in  trying  to 
describe  it,  except  to  say  it  is  a  beautiful  place. 

The  Scioto  River  runs  east  of  us.  There  are 
".or.  girls,  and  we  are  divided  into  seven  families. 
and  they  are  numbered  from  1  to  T.  and  each  girl 
lias  a  number  :  mine  is  :,17.  We  have  four  kinds 
of  spring  water— sulphur,  limestone,  iron,  and 
magnesia.  You  may  all  have  a  drink  if  you  will 
come  and  see  us. 

We  are  now  learning  to  drill,  and  I  think  we 
ean  excel  an  equal  number  ot  boys  who  iirc  drill- 
ing anvwhere  else  in  the  Tutted  States. 

NELLY  M.  H. 

I  am  very  glad  that  HARPER'S  Yorxc  I'mi  i  i 
is  taken  in  your  Home,  dear  Nelly,  and  that  it 
adds  to  the  happy  times  you  have  there.  1'lease 
write  again,  and  tell  us  how  your  Home  is  con- 
ducted, what  you  study,  and  what  useful  arts 
you  are  taught.  What  are  the  ages  of  the  oldest 
and  youngest  pupils  in  the  institution,  and  do 
you  have  ;;  Sunday-school  connected  with  it  ': 


lii;i"i\ii  ii  i  i-  l.r-*,  I.-K-TI   I,II\!>,M,.  s,  <m  \\n. 

DI;.M:  POSTMISTRESS,— AsItakeHARPER's  Y<u  v. 
I'EOPI.I;.  and  am  interested  in  each  number,  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  hear  from  me,  as  I  am 
al  -ueh  a  distance  from  you.  I  noticed  in  one 
of  the  June  numbers  a  letter  from  my  little  cousin 


Ge.ir'-e  C  in  Colorado,  describing  his  home'.  \\  e 

are  situated  on  the  banks  of! h  Lomond  (which 

is  considered  the  queen  of  Hie  Scottish  lakes,  as 
far -is  scenery  "oesi  .Many  Americans  travel  this 
way.  so  I  snjipe.se  most  of  you  will  have  heard 
something  about  it. 

I  hav.  •!  in  it.'  a  n  um  herof  brothel-sand  sisters,  ami 
we  have-  great  fun.  when  Yorxi;  Pi:on.u  epmes, 
in  seeing  who  will  seize  it  first  le>  get  the  latest 
Wi-'-li-  1  enioy  reading  the  Post-office  Box  im- 
mensely. Jimmy  Brown's  stories  are  splendid. 
I  liked'"  Nan."  "Raising  the  'Pearl,'"  and  "In 
Honor  Beiunel"  best  of  all  the  stones,  \\  e  have 
a  little  rowing  boat,  and  we  hav.'  nice  times  row- 
ing about  and  going  fishing  on  the'  lake  when  it 
is  not  too  rough  For  pets  I  hav  a  pretty  little 
Iceland  pony  named  Charlie,  which  papa  gave  me 
for  a  birthday  present,  ami  I  go  out  riding  on 
him  every  day.  We  have  also  got  a  donkeycalled 
Neddy,  which  my  little'  sisters  ride  in  panniers, 
and  the  funny  part  is  that  neither  the  donkej 
nor  pe.iu  will  gei  a  step  without  the  other.  I 
have  a  pretty  canary-bird,  a  little  black  kitten 
called  Jet.  who  is  very  cunning,  and  1  hail  a  sea- 
gull, but  it  flew  away. 

My  mamma  and  papa  are  in  London  just  now. 
and  I  expect  them  to  bring  me  a  gold  watch, 
They  will  get  such  a  surprise  if  my  let  in-  is  pub- 
lished, as  they  do  not  know  I  am  writing  \\  •  • 
have  an  American  aunt  visiting  us  just  now,  and 
we  were  in  the  kite-hen  to-day  making  deuigh- 
nuts  which  is  quite  a  new  dish  tei  us.  I  should 
like  if  some  one  would  -e  nd  me  a  good  receipt 
for  them.  (  n.u-.i.oTTK  C.  B. 

Now,  Little  Housekeepers,  which  of  you  makes 
the  nicest  doughnuts?  We  must  send  this  dear 
little  Scotch  girlie  a  splendid  receipt  for  our  fa 
vorite  fried  cakes. 

several  weeks  ago  Sammy  A.,  who  lives  in 
Florida,  asked  whether  some  of  the  Northern 
boy.  would  not  write  tei  him.  A  great  many 
boys  have  answered  Sammy,  and  the  Postmis- 
tress has  selected  for  insertion  the  two  most  in- 
teresting letters  from  the  number  received.  She 
may  be  able  to  publish  some  of  the  others  here- 
after. 

SAMMY  A..— There  is  one  Northern  boy  who 
will  answer  your  letter.  Last  week  papa  took  his 
family  through  Franconia  Notch,  which  is  in  the 
White  .Mountains  of  New  Hampshire.  It  was  a 
lovely  morning  when  we  started,  not  a  bit  of 
dust,  as  it  had  rained  most  of  the  previous  week. 
The  first  point  of  interest  is  Echo  Lake,  with  its 
wonderful  echo  ;  the  call  of  a  bugle  was  answer- 
ed again  and  again.  It  is  but  a  short  distance 
tei  the  Profile-  Heiuse,  situated  right  in  the  Notch, 
high  mountains  em  all  sides  of  it.  one  of  which 
looks  inst  like'  an  elephant's  head,  with  trunk, 
tusks. 'car.  and  eye.  Passing  the  Profile  House, 
we  soon  see  the  old  Man  of  the  Mountain,  gaunt 
and  grim,  at  our  right.  It  is  impossible  to  real- 
ize that  it  is  eighty  feet  from  the  brow  to  the 
chin.  Kathera  long-faced  person,  is  he  not  ?  As 
we  ride  along  southward  the  face  becomes  a 
mass  of  rocks.  It  is  formeel  of  three  granite 
stones,  one  forming  the  brow,  one  the  nose,  and 
one  the  chin,  I  forgot  te>  say  that  at  his  feet  lies 
a  beaut  it'iil  sheet  of  water  called  the  old  Man's 
Punch-Bowl,  or  Basin,  but  it  is  not  the  Basin, 
which  is  a  little1  farther  ein. 

Then  e'ome's  the  Flume-.  Its  appearance  was  en- 
tirely changed  by  a  freshet  June  20. 1883.  Where 
were  flourishing  trees  covered  with  foliage  is 
now  a  broad  sweep  of  stones  of  all  sizes  from 
a  little  pebble  to  bowlders  weighing  many  tons. 
trees  torn  up  by  their  roots,  the  bark  stripped 
from  t  heir  trunks,  limbs  broken  off,  anil  all  piled 
and  wrelge'd  together.  One  tree  standing  em  the 
"side  of  this  path  of  destruction,  estimated  to  be 
seventy  feet  high,  has  the  branches  broken  and 
the  bark  scraped  off  nearly  to  the  top.  which 
I  slmws  what  a  mighty  torrent  must  have  gone  by 
it.  sufficient  at  least  to  lift  the  bowlder  from  it's 
>  lofty  pen-h.  juid  carry  it  where  it  has  not  been 
!  found,  though  some  enterprising  Y'ankee  has 
fenced  in  a  large  stone  and  marked  it  "Bowlder." 
but  to  one  with  any  idea  of  size  it  is  evident  it  is 
too  small. 

But  I  fear  the  Postmistress  will  think  I  am  tak 
ing  too  much  room,  or  I  would  tell  you  of  the 
beautiful  stream  flowing  through  the  Flume. 
forming  lovely  cascades,  or  flowing  smoothly 
over  the  soliel  bed  of  rock,  which  is  seventy-five 
feet  wide  below  the  Flume  tthe  bed  of  rock,  not 
the  stream). 

Perhaps  another  time  I  will  tell  you  of  the  New 
Hampshire  and  Massachusetts  trout  and  salmon 
breeding  pond  at  Plymouth.  New  Hampshire, 
which  we-  visite'd,  also  about  the  feirty-tive  snakes 
which  my  brother  Josie  and  1  killed  on  my  grand  - 
father's  farm,  and  the  home 'is'  nest  we  got  into. 
and  a  thousand  and  one  otherdelightfuK?)  things. 
CHARLIE  W.  T. 

When  Charlie  feels  like  writing  again,  the  Post- 
mi-t  i  ess  will  save  a  corner  for  him. 


I  lia\e  three  brothers  and  two  .sisters  younger 
than  myself.  A  gentleman  after  whom  my  six 
year  oli  I  brother  was  named  sends  him  IlAnri;i;'s 
Soi  M.  I'KOCI.K  on  condi  I  ion  that  he  eats  all  his 
I.  read  •  •rusts.  I  saw  your  letter  in  the  Post-office 
I  invalid  I  thought  I  would  answer  it.  We  an-  liv- 
ing on  a  prairie  farm  live  miles  south  of  tin-  vil 
lagc  of  sterling,  and  twenty-four  miles  east  of 
Bismarck,  the  capital  of  Dakota  Territory.  \V<- 
ean  see  twenty-two  settlers  from  our  home.  We 
are  living  on  a  farm  of  Kill  acres,  and  there  is  not 
a  tree.  bush,  or  stone  on  it.  When  walking  over 
the  prairie  you  see  a  great  many  buffalo  bones. 
and  round  rings  in  the  ground,  where  we  sup- 
pose the  Indians  had  their  war-dances. 

A  lew  days  ago  my  brother  Willie  ami  I  saw 
two  !  '.  a  ill  if'ul  antelopes  skip  over  the  prairie.  In 
the  fall  of  the  year,  we  are  told,  they  go  over  the 
pi-air  ir  in  herd's,  and  a  great  many  are  shot  and 
dressed  for  winter  meat.  There  are  a  great  many 
hawks  here;  some  are  s,,  large  they  call  them 
i  agli  -  :  they  are  w-ry  destructive  to  chickens. 

1  was  up  at  Bismarck  :  it  is  a  booming  city. 
saw  two  Indians  and  s  .....  e  (  hinese      The  (  apitol 
buildings  are  being  constructed.     There  are  r  ..... 
men  workiiigdayand  night.     At  night  they  work 
by  electric  light.  _  CHARLES  B.  B. 

Pl.AIM-'IH.H,   %  MV    .ln.-l,. 

I  wrote  some  lime  ago.  but  my  letter  wa-  not 
published,  so  1  thought  1  would  try  again.  M\ 

papa  look  >.ie  to  Seranton.  Pennsylvania,  and  I 
went  to  the  fiirimcr-  where  they  prepare  iioi, 
from  the  ore.  and  1  also  went  to  the'  sleel  mills. 
ami  -aw  them  making  rails.  I  was  very  much 
interested  in  the  little-  engines  they  use  in  I  he 
furnaces  and  mills,  so  small  that  1  could  see  over 
them.  The  tires  in  the'  furnaces  were  the  be-t 
kind  of  tire-works  I  ever  saw.  We  left  New 
York  at  three,  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  did 
not  reach  Srraiiton  until  eleven  at  night.  I  -hall 
hope  very  soon  to  see  this  letter  ill  my  Vn  N'. 
1'Koi'i.i:.  'My  little  sister  Maliel  sends  her  lovr. 
shr  rails  this  paper  "  Hum.  I'lim.  Prep."  Isn't  it, 
a  tunny  name:-  Pun.  M.  •). 


.,. 

I  enjoy  reading  tin'  stories  in  Yoi  M.  Pi  or,  e 
very  much,  but  1  like  Ihe  letters  the  be-t  of  all. 
My  home  is  ill  Kansas  city,  but  I  am  staying  al 
my  uncle's  for  a  while,  and  am  having  a  splendid 
time.  I  bavr  a  -istrr  oldrr  than  myself,  and  a 
brothrr  younger.  My  cousin  Ivy  has  a  printing- 
press,  and  we  print  ail  the  postal  ranis  ami  tags 
they  use  at  the  Illinois  Iron  and  Holt  Compaio 
Last  night  the  pattern  shop  caught  on  tin  M> 
uncle  taught  Ivy  and  me  to  drive,  and  we  ean 
drive  very  nicely. 

I  haven't  been  to  s.-l  .....  Iverymuch  on  arronm 
of  stigniatism  in  my  eyes.  My  cousin  and  I  play 
a  great  many  duels  together,  ami  we  have  a  doll 
that  can  dance,  I  tried  the  surprise  cake,  and  it 
was  very  nice-  Wr  have  lovely  pansies,  and  a 
great  many.  I  will  send  you  two  pressed  pan 
sies,  a  red  and  white  one  and  a  black  one.  and  a 
geranium  leaf.  This  is  my  first  letter  to  any  pa- 
per, and  if  you  give  it  a  place  in  the  Post-office 
Box  I  will  try  t,,  \\rite  a  better  one  next  timr. 
Love  to  the  Postmistress.  C;KI:TIE  B. 

Thanks  for  the  lovely  pansies.    This  letter  and 
that  of  Ivy  D  wen-  printed  beautifully. 

CA«|'KNTEKPVII,I>.  Ii  i.isoi^. 

I  have  taken  Yorsi.  Pr.on.i:  this  year,  and  like 
il  M-ry  much.  I  have  never  been  to  school.  In;' 
was  taught  to  read  at  home.  I  have  a  si-trr  se\ 
.n  years  old  named  Daisy.  I  have  a  little  adopt 
ed  brother  twenty  -one  months  old.  who  fell  off 
the  veranda  ami  broke  his  leg  two  months  ago. 
but  In-  is  walking  now,  and  he  is  in  all  sorts  of 
mischief.  Then  I  have  a  little  nephew  three  day- 
old,  and  he  has  black  hair.  Aunt  Jennie  took 
Cousin  Gertie,  Cousin  Mary,  my  sister  Daisy,  and 
myself  to  see  them  thresh  at  I'ncle  Oscar's.  The 
ma  chine  nude  a  loud  buzzing  noise,  I  have  tried 
dolls'  cup  cake,  and  il  was  very  nice.  I  have'  no 
pets  except  two  dolls.  If  you  like  my  letter  I 
will  write  again.  I  send  you  a  pressed  rose 
geranium  leaf  and  two  pansies.  Love  to  the  Po-t 
mistress.  IVY  D. 


SAJIMYA..    Iain  a  boy  eleven  years  old.    I  was 

born  in  a  town  in  ( 'cut  ral  Pennsylvania,  and  lived 
thereuntil  June,  when  we  came  to  Dakota  to  live. 


BABYLON.  Ni  "    i'"BI 

I  have  tried  (with  fair  successi  some  of  the  re- 
ceipts given  by  HAKI-KK'S  VOINC  PEOPLE,  and 
would  very  much  like  one  for  macaroons.  While 
1  am  here  in  the  country  I  play  chess  and  lam  n 
tennis.  JUKI  study  <;rrman.  I  have  written  to 
HARPER'S  YOITSG  PEOPLE  before,  but  my  letter 
was  not  published,  will  not  the  Postmistress 
try  to  have  this  one  inserted?  My  vacation  is 
drawing  to  a  close,  ami  school  will  soon  begin. 
F.  Nr.i.  "ON  H 

SPANISH   M.\IAI:OO\-      Four  ounce-  of  swei 
almonds,  half  a  pound  of  sugar,  six  yolks  of  eggs. 
half  a  tea-spoonful  of  ground  cinnamon,  and  i  he 

ra-ped  rind  pf  onr  orange  :  boil  thr  -ugar  tir-t  ; 


SEPTEMBER  25,  1S83. 


Y<>r.\<;  PEOPLE. 


751 


then  add  tin-  pounded  almonds  and  the  Havor- 
ing.aml  let  the-m  simmervery  gently  overa  s]ow- 
tin-  I  Mi1  ten  minute--,  si  it-ring  oce-asi<  mally  :  .it  t  h'- 
end  'it'  Ifii  minilte-s  a'l'l  the-  w<-l!  b.-ate-n  yolk--  ot 
tin-  egg-,  and  stir  over  a  (|ui'-k«-i-  lire  till  tin-  ma  — 
!i<-e<  iim-s  tirm  :  lake  t'i-"m  lln-  tire,  and  when  COM! 
i  ween  your  hands,  greasing  them  slightly 
lirs:  with  oil  of  swi-i-t  almonds  :  make  in!"  -mall 
e,ik'  -.ami  spivad  on  -beet-  of  pape'r;  bake-  in  a 

liot  ovet 


KM'«  I  ln\.  Qe.  EH!:,'. 

7  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  ,,11.    My  si>ii-r 
mil  I  have-  very  go.,,1  times  playing  togeth- 
er.    We  invent  funny  games,  and  -"im-titni--  we 
draw  pictures  in  tin-  mini  with  I'll*  of  sticks, and 

-  >iii<-t  ini'-s  \\  ••  iiiak--  rl i \  me-s.  This  is  out-  I  maeh- 
ab<  'lit  my-e-lt  yesterday  : 

Then-  is  a  little-  country  girl. 

HIT  naim-  is  p.  --'n-  ( |.  ; 
-In     i-  a    IOM-I-  ol1  tti.-   night  [U 

That  sings  in  w Is  -o  free 

She's  not  a  jnvtty  little  girl. 

Though    hrr  hail-  is  long  anil  brown. 
And  her  merry  eyes  are  ha/.el. 

As  sin-  runs  about  ami  'round. 

Her  nose  is  short  ami  -tnhh\. 
Her  lips  are  thin  and  while  ; 

She    never    likes    to    if,,    to    lied 

If  il  's  a  stormy  night. 

I  helieve  it  is  the  greatest  trial  I  ha\e,  to  go  to 
lied  When  the  wind  Mows  Tills  is  one  of  my 

sister  Kniily's  rh\ni,-s  alioiil  water  she  wants 
to  go  to  the  sea-sldi  very  much,  and  I  think  that 

I-    !  tli      I'l-a-oll   she   likes   to    w  lile   a  I 'Ollt    the   Water  : 

Water  (lowing  peacefully 

In    the    little-    lil-ook-. 

Water  Mowing  softly. 
How  beautiful  it  lo.  .k-  • 

Water  roaring  ii"i-ilv 

In  the  gi-e-ai   \\  iiie  sea, 
\\  all  i-  roaring  loudly. 

Mow   lovely   it    niu-1    lie  ' 

'  day  my  little  sister  Sarah  was  playing  wilh 

her  doll,  and  she  wanted  a  pin  to  pin  its  dress 
with,  so  she  said.  "  IMn.  pin.  where  yon  been'-" 
and  atler  that.  "  \\"h\ .  I  made  a  rhyme  !"  \\'e  all 
thought  it  was  funny,  tor  sin-  was  only  two  years 

old 

I'.tpa  took  us  for  a  ride  out  to  Lake  Memphre- 
mageig  one  day  las,  week,  and  we  had  a  little 

pienie    on    the    lake    shore.       Il     is   fourteen    miles 

trom  here,  and  on  the  road  we  passed  a  very 

pretty  plaee.     It  is  in  the  w Is,  and  there  was 

a  big  high  roek.  w  il  h  a  little  brook  tumbling  over 
it.  and  a  clump  of  I  rees  ahove  it.  and  lots  of  moss 
and  ferns  around.  We  met  a  man  h-ading  a  tame 
fox.  We  thought  it  was  very  pretty,  but  the  man 
said  it  killed  ehiekens  when  it  had  a  '-ham-i 
There  was  a  little  lu-ook  that  ran  along  the  road 
in  one  plaee.  anil  whenever  the  road  turned  the 
hrook  turned  too;  it  -ecmed  jusl  as  it  one  was 
made  tofollow  the-  other.  \\  e passed  one  mount- 
ain I  hat  had  a  hi g  square  roek  .upon  it ,  and  -i  nne 

others  that  wei \-ered  with  \\  omls     \\  ,•  came 

home  a  i  H  il  her  w  ay.  so  as  to  -i  i  to  1  loll  on  Spring. 
The  water  comes  out  of  a  little  hollow  in  the 
solid  rock,  and  has  a  very  stramrc  taste:  I  did 
not  like  it.  Kmily  took  her  doll  Rosie,  and  1  took 
Ma  ml :  we  have  thirteen  dolls  altoeethe  i- 

1  have  never  In-en  to  school,  but  I  like  reading 
very  much.  The  last  hook  I  read  was  the  \\'i<{r, 
It/-/.  II  I,//,/,  anel  I  like  the  part  where  Fllen  was 
at  h.-r  aunt  Fortune's  the  best .  Now  I  am  read- 
ing the  I'ilyi-iiii'x  I'rii'/i-iis.  and  have  got  to  where 
Matthew  and  Mercy  wen-  mani-d.  My  little 

hrother  laughs  every  ti we  .all  him  pretty 

In  iy.  lie  is  only  t  \\ ..  in.  ml  h-  old.  and  we  all  love 
him  dearly.  Mamma  is  writing  this  for  me,  as  I 
can  not  write,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  printed,  so  I 
can  surprise  papa.  I  send  lo\e  lo  I  he  I'ostmis- 
trei  -  IM.S-IE  c. 

So  did  I  like  best  that  part  of  Kllcn  Montgom- 
ery's story  in  which  she  lived  at  Aunt  Fortune's, 
and  had  that  sweet  Miss  Alice  fora  friend.  Yet 
I've  always  felt  as  if  it  would  do  me  good  to 
shake  Aunt  Fortune  herself.  Do  you  know  that 
one  of  the  most  provoking  things  she  did  was  to 
eolor  Ellen's  pretty  white  stockings,  and  now  the 
fashion  has  changed  so  that  if  Ellen  were  living 
to-day  we  eouldn't  persuade  her  to  wear  a  white 
stocking?  I  like  to  be  told  what  books  my  chil- 
dren are  reading. 


OTTAWA,  ONTARIO. 

As  I  have  never  seen  a  letter  from  this  place, 
I  thought  I  would  write,  so  you  might  know 
there  are  little  girls  in  Ottawa  who  have  learn- 
ed through  YOI-NC;  PI.;OPI,K  to  love  you.  I  have 
two  pets— a  little  brother  three  years  old.  named 
Krskine.  and  a  young  bird  just  commencing  to 
sing.  I  will  he  nine  this  month.  I  have  been  to 
school  very  little,  as  1  am  not  very  strong.  Otta- 
wa is  a  large  lumbering  place,  and  the  capital  of 
<  'anada.  We  have  lived  here  six  years.  Our  home 
before,  was  in  Vermont.  I  inclose  five  cents, and 
would  like  the  pattern  of  the  Nautilus,  size  twelve 
inches.  My  little  brother  sees  me  writing,  and 
-a\  s.  "Ask  tin.-  lady  te>  come  and  'lay  for  tea  some 


day."    I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  two  years 
[  would  like  to  join  the  Little  Housekeepers,  and 

will -i  mt  a  re  i-e-ipt  for  a  pudding  that  I  know  is 
in,-,  IU.--IK  M. 

Thank  the  swe-et  little'  boy  who  wants  the  huh 
to  ,-ome  tei  tea.  anil  te'll  him  she  1'ive-s  him  ever 
so  inneli  lor  hi-  invitation.  We'  have  hail  le-tters 
from  Ottawa,  elear  child,  but  are-  very  much 

pleased     t"    IV.-rhe-     \OU1--          I    hope-   Veil!    likrd     the 

Nautilus 


I  am  a  little  boy  nine-  years  old.  I  had  ^  en  \,. 
T'Kol'l.l:  tor  ;l  pre-'-n!  on  my  last  birthday.  1 
caught  a  \  "ling  rabbit  ami  a  young  bird,  but  they 

tioth   di'-'i        I    h:e\e    a    111 h 'L'   four   months  edd 

that  is  quite  playful  I  have  a  little-  brother  -i\ 
\.-ar-  old.  n.inn  .1  I  ddie,  ami  a  little  siste-r  two 
years  old,  named  Cora.  i  n  \s<  \  <  K 

Mrs.  li  I;  li  .  i  haney'smother.  in  a  line  aCCOm 
panying  his  lette-r.  i-oninn-tnls  Yen  NI.  Tiori  i  as 

llle-    be-st    pape-r   fell'   b"VS    she    ha-    e\er   sel-ll.        She 

says  it  i-  a  happy  ieb-a  to  le-t  them  i-xehange  va- 
rioiis  artie-le-s  of  intere-t.  eombining  instrm-tion 
wilh  ple-asure'.  anil  ele-elares  that,  as  a  whole. 
Yin -M;  lYori.i;  is  "just  the  thing"  Ie,  eiih-r  a 
home- 

Bl  gLI       '•   I  "•      I  ,  I     '  '. 

Although  in \  bre'tlier  Kenne-tli  and  I  have-  take-n 
Voi  \>.  l'i  oei  i  trom  the-  tirst  nunibe-r.  this  is  my 

tirst    l|U,-sti'.n    te,    the-     I'.est-e.ftii-e-    II, .X.       I    Saw    in 

iToUNG    I'loi-ii:   No    t'.o  thai    Karl    \     I.    had  an 

SW  en -el    a    ejllest  ion    of    Hal  lie     M      <  •    's   wit  11    I  i    L'.l  I  il 

to  a  i|ii"tati..n      For  m-arly  nin-'  month-  I  have 

SI -a  re 'hell   te  ir   the-   Hall I    tile-   a  lit  lie  >r  etf  the  Hill's. 

"  l.il  I  le    t  hillL,'-    "I!    little    Wings 
Me-ar  lit  t  le-  -'  illls  to   h'-a  \  '  n 

So    far.    heettever.    111V    -e-arrll    has    lie-en    Illl-l -S 

fnl.  anel  1  thought  p-  rhap-  Karl  V  (.  e.r  some- 
oilier  one  of  the-  reaeb-rs  ,,f  thi-  paper  e-oiild  he-lp 

in.-     I  know  it  is  quoted  in  tin-  II.  ii  •  ,,j '  n,,i,r,jf, . 

but    no  e-le-w  is  t  he  i  i     L  :  .  '  •      i      I  o   il-  a  1 1 1 1 1 1  .rsh  i  p. 

Can  any  one  give  me  a   g I   r.-.-.-ipt   for  i-lmc-ei 

lale- carann-ls '•     M  ine-  is  too  rich.     (.UAeKlKI). 

. \neithei-  e|ii.-tion  for  tlic  bright  eye-s  which 
hunt  up  (imitations.  The-  I'ostmi-t  n-ss  hopes 

Se>me-bo,l>    may    he-    able'    |e,    tell   I  .  |- from    what 

pOem    ll"     eollplet    collie--,  although    -he-   ib"   -    Hot 

very  much  like  the  thought  expressi-il.     The  Kit 

tie  lloUSe-ke-e-pe-rs  W  tl  1  11"!  i'-'  -  t  he-  ot  h'T  fl-epll-st  . 


I  am  an  unkne.wn  friend  of  yours,  but  I  the  Might 
I  would  wrile-  and  tell  \.ni  how  I  get  V.a  v.  Pi  o 

I'l.K.       I    have-    a    little    friend    in    Ne-W    .ler-i-\     wile, 

se-nds  it  to  me-,  and  1  like  it  ve-rymm-li  My  little- 
sister,  nine'  years  edd.  anel  my  brother,  just  older 
than  myself,  e-njoy  it  ei|ilally  as  we- 11  as  I  do.  a  in  I 
the  sweet  baby  Berta  looks  at  the  pictures  by  tin- 
hour.  I  noticed  a  le-tte-r  from  one  of  my  little 
school-mates  in  your  pape-r,  ami  I  hope  this  i-  not 
loo  long  to  print,  a-  il  i-  the  tirst  I  have-  written 
to  you.  Kl.oi-i:  s 


We  arc  two  of  tic  many  readers  of  VOINI;  I'KO- 
n.K.  and  we  love-  te.  re-ail  the  letters  in  the  I'ost 
ofti.  e  I'.ox.  The  girls  anel  be.ys  te-ll  abeiut  the-ir 

pel-,  -o    we-    \\atlt    tei  te'll    a  boll  I    our-        \V  e  •  have-  a 

large  white-  rabbil  naineil  Hiinny.  all  iron-gray 
(lony  named  Nellie1,  and  a  Maltese  cat  named 
Trot,  with  tour  ele-ar  little  kittens.  We  would 
like-  to  have-  this  le-tte-r  put  in  your  nice  paper,  if 
the  Postmistress  thinks  it  worthy  of  publication. 
Helping  it  is  not  to,,  long,  we  dose  by  sending 
love-  ami  best  wishes  from  ROSE  and  DAISY. 


\  nv    YllUK    TlTV. 

We  thought    w.-  would  write  to  yon.     \\<-  en 
j,,y  Voi  %..  I'hoi-i  i:  very  much.    We  call  Tuesday 
"Harper's  I  lay.  "a  ml  have  a  race  to  the  front  hall 
door  tei  se-e'  which  one'  of  us  can  get  our  paper 
lirst.     Y  e-steTilay  was  our  birthday,     one  of  our 

presents  was  a 'bound  volume  of  YOI-MI  PK ,K 

for  ISKI  •  we-  were  delighted  with  it.  We-  are  glael 
another  of  Mrs.  I.illie-'s  st.iries  is  to  be  primed, 
for  we-  like-  them.  We  are  twin  sisters,  ten  years 
old  and  we  send  this  letter  from  both  of  us.  We 
have  three  nephews  in  England,  but  we  have  nev- 
er seen  the  youngest  one. 

AMY  II.  and  ANGIE  H. 

You  forgot  to  tell  me  whether,  being  twins, 
you  are  so  much  alike  that  people  can  not  tell 
Amy  from  Angie.  I  wonder  if  I  could.  I  was 
greatly  puzzled  by  a  pair  of  twin  sisters  last  sum 
mer.  and  when  they  found  it  out  they  thought  it 
very  funny.  

Dorothy  dray.  Lizzie  W.  I!.,  and  Jennie  (i. :  Your 

stories,  which  an-  very  we'll  written,  shall  appear 
as  soon  as  tin-  Postmistress  can  make  room  for 
them.— Sammy  A.  will  please  send  his  full  address 
to  De  Bloise  L.,  Box  V74,  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  and 
to  A.  K.  Ithoeles.  stroudsville,  Penn.,  as  these 
young  gentlemen  wish  to  correspond  with  him. 
De  Bloise  was  the  first  boy  in  the  North  to  write 


to  thi-  boy  in  the-  far  South.  Itnrlipl  L.  :  I  am 
sorry  you  have-  so  of  ten  been  disappointed  about 
your  le-lte-rs.  1  am  very  glael  yeni  passe-. 1  the  ex- 
amination for  the  High  Se-li..ol  successfully,  and 
yeeu  may  write  and  tell  some  of  the  little  sister'-s 
e-ut,'  sayings.  -Liuira  >I.  It.  has  written  this  little 
song  for  school-girls: 

Ding  doilg.  ding  dolig. 

1,'ings   out    the  s,-heMil-be-ll    merrily. 
( '"inc  em.  e-eime  on — 

You  can  ceunc  now  cheerily. 

( .o  along,  go  along. 
The  mother-  all  e-r>  : 

Don't    you    he-ar   the'   se-h'iol -bell's   song:- 

Be  quick,  he'  spry. 

\  cry  e-le'verly  rhymcel.  my  de'ar  Thanks  for  fa- 
vors are1  dm'  to  Fred  I',  s.,  Jessie  ('.  1)..  l-ahuml 
.M..  St.  KIlllii  S..  I  (In  I-;.  K.  t  I  \\-e.nlel  like-  to  see  your 
birds'.  Lewis  F.  i  covers  an-  lift  \  e-ent  s  e-ae-h  :  you 
cannot  obtain  allthe  numbers  of  HxBPEn'sl  "i  M 
PKOPI.K.  as  some  of  the  early  numbers  are  cut  ire  h 
out  of  stock,  and  will  mil  be'  reprinted!,  Pauline 
ami  Henrietta  >l.  i  \  on  will  be  welcome  among  the' 
Small  Ilouseke'e'peTsi.  Minnie  K..  Uillie  K.  ('..  Kate 
F.  .1..  M.  A..  (.Yrtic  ami  Smile  (I.  ail  the.  way  from 
F.ngland  the  pn-sse-el  flowers  came-  safelyi,  Jlnrj- 1.. 
M..  llosa  \\  ..  F.ilear  It.  I1..  Arthur  (i.  M..  Kalph  It. 
F..  \el.li.-  (i.  S..  F.  It.  II. .Jessie  II..  II.  K.  It.,  il ii- 
ilie-  A.,  a ae I  I.oiilic  S.  It.  lni|uircr:  In  se'iidim.'  l"i- 
i  he  Nautilus  inclose  a  5-cenl  stamp. 


I'I'/./.I.KS   1'1,'OM   YiiI'Ni;  CONTKIBI  'l'o)(s 

No.  K 
\    e  II  sriat  e,F    IHAIIONDS. 

l.-K  A  letter.  'J.  A  girl's  name.  :i,  A  Tei-ri 
tor\  I  \n  e-\,-lallialion  :,  A  letter. 

•,'.'  K  In  clam.  ->.  A  vessel.  :!.  Melody.  4.  Some 
tiling  to  eat.  a.  In  clam 

:v    t.  in  oyster.    •-'.  A  deer.    8.  An  alphabet.    4. 

I'arl  ol  the  head.     a.  A  letter 

I  1  A  letter.  •'.  A  meadow.  :',.  A  lisli.  4.  A 
pal-tide-  .'».  In  Harlem. 

:,.  I.  A  letter.  '-' .To  succeed.  :i.  Not  h.-avv 
I  \li  artie-le'.  a.  A  leller 

i,  i  A  letter.  3.  Consumed.  3.  A  common  ar- 
ticle. I  To  ele-l|-"\.  ."..  A  letter. 

;      I     \letter     •-'  T"  essay.    3.  To  twist.    4.  .V 

pronoun,     ."i    A  letter.      I-'IIANKI.IN  H.  WAI.TOX. 

N...  '.'. 

e.Keie.nU'llll   M,     M'lCOSTK  . 

1.  A  large  river  in  Kure.pc,  2.  A  country  e.l  I-.:: 
rope-.  :l  The  lar^e-t  e'il\  ill  tin-  I  nlolt  I  \  ri\ 
er  in  \-ia.  .".  One'  of  tile'  glvat  lakes.  Ii  A  eit  > 

iii  l-'ram-e'.  7'.  A  province-  of  Germany.  H.  A  city 
in  Indiana.  !l.  A  province  of  Austria.  HI.  A  city 
in  chili.  II.  An  island  southeast  "I  Australia 
]-,'  \  river  in  Asiatic  Turkey.  1:1.  A  city  in  Vir 
ginia.  The  initials  i-eai I  dow  nward  form  the  name 
of  a  great  American  statesman.  TI.AKA  K. 


ANSVYKKS  TO   PI'//.KKS  IN  No.  3)1. 

No.  K— 1.  Fear.  2.  1'ay.  'A.  clear.  4.  Fairweatln-r. 
a.  Charle-s.  i;.  Land's  Kml.  7.  Sable.  *. 
Sanely.  !i.  Kaee.  111.  Wrath.  11.  Icy.  K'. 
Hast.' 13.  Henry.  14.  North.  15.  Horn.  1C. 

(  ;<>o.|  II-  ipe.      V, :.  Farewell. 

s  P  K    I    N  «   E 

!•  H  o|(    I    A 

It  o  T    A    K 
IRAS 

N  I  K 

(.  A 
1C 


Xo.    I 


N.I..-,. 


M 

1     1, 

A    X 

1 

M  A 

(i    F. 

K 

A    ]• 

1     S 

A 

(.    1 

S    T 

N 

K   S 

T    s 

s 

s 

F 

1 

N 

C 

K 

I' 

S 

U 

(i 

A 

li 

s    I 

S 

A 

N 

NT 

A 

G 

1' 

A 

N 

It 

N 

A 

M 

A 

P 

E 

P 

E 

N 

A 

P 

I' 

K 

E 

M    K 

1, 

O 

X 

E 

L 

F 

N 

0 

T 

K 

N 

A  giraffe. 


The  answer  I..  ••  Who  Was  Ib   •"  on  page  ,04  >-( 
Nei.'JOl  is  Washington  Irving. 


Correct  answers  to  puzzles  have  bce-n  reei'ive-d 
from  c.  W.  <;atty.  Franklin  II..  c.  W.  Reynolds. 
May  and  Laura.  Eureka,  s.  J..  Maude  Andrus.  Ida 
E  Hequembourg.  Clara  (i.  Moore.  Carrie  L.  How- 
ard. SportingBob.  Fannie-  U.  I Irydeti.  Maggie  and 
Ted  Bre'im-r,  Lewis  D.  Jenkins,  Emily  Wiseman, 
H.  IL.  Joe  K.,  and  Mattie  Plover. 

[For  Exchanges,  see  2d  and  3d  par/a  of  coc' , .  ] 


752 


IIATlPEirS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  FLYING  PAPER  BUTTERFLY. 

BY  A.  W.  ROBERTS. 

THE  success  of  this  toy  depends  eutirely  upon  the  lightness 
of  the  materials  used  ill  its  construction. 

The  breadth  of  the  wings  from  the  tip  to  the.  body  is  four 
inches,  the  breadth  of  the  body  a  little,  over  one  inch,  the  other 
parts  being  in  proportion. 

The  autenme,  or  •'  horns,"  F  F,  consist  of  the  very  thinnest 

of  tissue-paper  (I  have  found 
the  manifold  paper  used  by  re- 
porters to  !»•  the  best  ),st  ivtc  li- 
ed on  arching  splints  of  bam- 
lioo  or  lirooin-corii  whisks,  as 
shown  at  F  F.  These  horns 
are  inserted  in  a  piece  of  cork 
shaped  as  shown  at  A.  A 
second  and  third  piece  of  cork, 
A  and  A,  similarly  shaped, 
form  the  upper  and  lower 
parts  of  the  body,  into  which 
are  fastened  two  straws,  B  B. 

These  straws  must  contain  a  joint  to  insure  greater  strength. 

The  frame-work  of  the  body  is  now  complete. 

The  large  wings,  E  E,  are  composed  of  the  same  materials  as 

the  horns,  one  splint  being  used  lor  each  wing,  as  shown  at  E  E. 

The  sides  of  the  wings  are  glued  to  the  straws  15  15,  after  which 

the  paper  wings  are  painted  to  resemble  the  markings  and  col- 
ors of  a  butterfly.     Through  the,  two  upper  corks,  A  A,  passes  a 

wire,  which  is  in  the  form  of  a  hook,  as  shown  at  D.     A  similar 

wire  hook  also  passes  through  the  lower  cork,  to  which  it  is 

made  fast,  as  shown  at  D.      These  hooks  are 

for  the  purpose  of  holding  the  two  elastic 

rubber   bauds,   C,  that    cau    be   twisted   or 

wound  up   by   means  of  the  movable  head. 

II,  which  works  or  revolves  ou  two  washers, 

consisting  of  two  small  glass  heads,  G. 

When  the  rubber  bands  are  twisted  up  to 

their  fullest  capacity  the  butterfly  is  throw 

up  iuto  the  air,  and  the  unwinding  of  the 

rubber    bauds    acting    ou    the    upper    hook 

causes  the  head  cork,  H,  and  the  horns,  F  F, 

to  revolve  rapidly,  thereby   sustaining   the 

butterfly  in  the  air,  and  causing  it  to  move 

about  with  a  circular  jerking  motion. 

The  cork-work  and  the  frame  of  the  butter- 
fly are  covered  with  tissue-paper,  and  colored. 

It  is  very  amusing  to  watch  the  flight  of  this 

novel  insect.    When  seen  a  little  distance  off 

it  is  uot  so  very  uulike  a  real  butterfly.     It 

is  much  easier  to  catch,  however,  and  when 

once  it  has  reached  the  ground  it  must  be 

wound  up  before  it  can  continue  its  flight. 


ENIGMA. 

TTTITHIN  a  cavern  arched  and  dark, 

>>      Where  never  yet  did  daylight  gleam, 
Concealed  from  every  eye  but  One, 
There  bubbles  forth  a  living  stream. 

Through  pipes  and  conduits  manifold 

Still  on  and  ou  the  current  goes, 
But  to  the  self-same  source  returns, 

As  endlessly  it  ebbs  and  flows. 

Life-giving  power  it  hrings  to  all 
The  structure  that  it  passes  through; 

No  part  has  either  less  or  more 
Than  is  its  own  proportion  due. 

And  each  remotest  corner  feels 

The  wondrous  vivifying  force; 
The  lily  w-hite  and  blushing  rose 

Bloom  ou  the  meadow  o'er  its  source. 

A  -wondrous  clock-work  drives  the  stream, 
Whose  pendulum  goes  ou  and  on, 

And  ceaseless  measures  out  the  time 
Till  minutes,  hours,  and  days  are  gone. 

When  weeks  and  mouths  have  passed  to  years, 
Will  come  at  length  its  latest  day ; 

The  clock  will  stop,  the  spring  dry  up, 
And  all  the  structure  fall  away. 


THE  KINDNESS  OF  DOGS. 

A  LADY  has  a  pug-dog,  also  a  cat,  of  which  the  dog  was 
always  very  jealous,  chasing  it  about  whenever  it  saw  it. 
Not  many  weeks  since  the  pug  astonished  its  mistress  by  coming 
up  to  her,  sitting  np  and  begging,  then  barking,  and  running  a 
little  distance  from  her,  till  it  became  evident  that  it  wished  to 
persuade  her  to  come  with  it.  It  continued  to  beg  and  to  run 
ou  in  the  same  manner  till  it  led  her  out  into  the  garden,  to  the 
foot  of  an  apple-tree.  against  which  the  dog  raised  itself  on  his 
hind-legs  and  barked  loudly.  On  looking  up  the  lady  saw  the 
cat  with  a  trap  on  its  foot,  evidently  in  great  pain,  ^he  j;ot  it 
down  and  relieved  it  of  the  trap.  The  dog  showed  the  greatest 
joy,  and  on  the  cat  being  placed  on  the  ground,  the  dog,  which 
before  had  never  done  anything  but  hunt  and  worry  it,  licked 
it  all  over  and  over,  and  ever  since  they  have  been  the  best  of 
friends. 

A  dog  had  a  kennel  in  the  yard  of  a  house  which  was  over- 
looked from  one  of  the  windows.  A  lady  saw  this  dog  hiding 
some  of  its  dinner  in  a  corner  behind  the  kennel,  and  this  per- 
formance, she  noticed,  was  repeated  for  a  day  or  two.  On  the 
third  day  the-  dog  was  missing  some  little  time  from  the  yard, 
but  before  long  it  was  seen  to  ret  urn,  followed  by  a  small  half- 
starved  friend,  which  it  took  up  t'o  the  store  of  hidden  food,  aud 
stood  by,  wagging  its  tail  with  evident  pleasure,  while  the 
strange  dog  consumed  it. 


HOW    THE    LITTLE    RUNAWAY    LOST    HIS    HOUSE. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


ANl'  ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-.No   •>. 


Ptrur.TSHED  p.v   MAKI'Ki;  A:   lillOTII  KUS.  NEW  FORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  October  2,  1883. 


rc,|.ynirhl,  I8M,  by   H»r»  A   HH..TH.K*. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


•Mi;     RAMSDELL    WAS    GIVINO    THE    BABY    SOME    MILK. 


NINA'S  BABY. 

THERE  were  Nina  and  Joe,  the  children,  and  Jep  and 
Judy  and  Bones,  the  performing-  dogs,  and  Mr.  Rams- 
dell,  the  clown,  and  Mrs.  Ramsdell,  the  tight-rope  walker, 


all  of  whom,  with  the  assistance  of  Jerry,  the  man -of -all- 
work,  gave  entertainments  under  a  canvas  tent  at  any 
place  where  they  thought  they  could  get  an  audience  of 
sufficient  size  to  pay  expenses. 

Of  course  their  real  names  were   not  printed  on  the 


754 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


posters  that  were  hung  in  every  available  place  in  the 
towns  where  the  tent  was  set  up;  but  each  one,  even  in- 
cluding Jerry,  had  some  high-sounding  name  that  could 
not  by  any  possibility  have  been  mistaken  for  Eamsdell. 

In  addition  to  being  the  clown,  Mr.  Eamsdell  lifted 
heavy  weights,  tossed  cannon-balls,  and  was  juggler  and 
acrobat.  In  certain  acts  little  Joe  and  Nina  appeared 
with  him.  He  would  hold  them  on  his  hands  or  feet,  roll 
Joe  up  in  a  little  ball,  and  spin  him  around  like  a  top,  or 
carry  both  of  them  on  his  head,  one  above  the  other,  walk- 
ing'around  the  ring  meanwhile  as  if  he  was  doing  some 
very  simple  thing. 

Nina  exhibited  Jep,  Judy,  and  Bones,  all  of  whom 
would  do  her  bidding,  and  many  were  the  comical  tricks 
they  performed.  Mrs.  Eamsdell  cooked  the  food,  washed 
the  clothes,  cared  for  the  children.  Mr.  Eamsdell,  Jerry, 
and  the  dogs,  and  also  walked  on  the  tight-rope,  looking 
more  like  a  fairy  than  a  hard-working  woman. 

Jerry  could  not  perform,  but  during  the  entertainment 
he  was  dressed  in  a  gorgeous  costume,  and  announced  the 
performers,  set  the  vaulting  stand,  handed  Mrs.  Eamsdell 
her  balance-]iole.  and  did  such  things  as  were  generally 
necessary,  without  being  particularly  entertaining. 

The  company  travelled  in  a  large  covered  wagon,  with 
the  tent  and  all  their  belongings  snugly  packed  in,  while 
Mrs.  Eamsdell  and  the  children  had  cozy  little  holes 
among  the  folds  of  the  canvas,  where  they  could  sleep  MS 
the\  rode.  Mr.  Eamsdell  and  Jerry  sat  on  the  front  seat, 
where  they  urged  on  the  two  discouraged-looking  horses, 
which  had  at  times  very  hard  work  to  draw  the  hea\  i!\ 
laden  wagon. 

There  were  days  when  this  sort  of  travelling  was  plea- 
sant to  all,  but  during  wet  or  cold  weather  Nina  and  Joe 
would  spend  a  good  share  of  the  time  wishing  that  they 
had  a  comfortable  home,  and  could  go  to  school  like  other 
children. 

During  the  summer  the  children  could  play  in  the 
woods  when  the  halt  on  the  road  was  made  for  dinner, 
and  while  the  weather  was  warm  the  thin  and  scanty  cos- 
tumes they  wore  in  the  ring  were  not  uncomfortable,  but 
when  autumn  came  to  paint  the  green  leaves  such  a  vari- 
ety of  brilliant  colors  everything  was  changed.  The  chil- 
dren were  obliged  to  remain  inside  the  wagon  all  the  time 
they  were  travelling,  and  on  exhibition  days  the  moment 
they  were  through  with  their  duties  they  were  only  too 
glad  to  crowd  around  the  little  stove  that  was  setup  in  the 
dressing-tent.  Even  the  dogs  felt  uncomfortable  when 
the  weather  grew  cold,  for  Mr.  Eamsdell  kept  their  shag- 
gy coats  trimmed  rather  tuo  close  for  comfort. 

The  season  which  was  nearly  ended,  and  during  which 
Nina  and  Joe  met  with  such  a  wonderful  adventure  that 
this  story  is  written  about  it,  had  been  a  hard  one  for  the 
travelling  showmen.  There  had  been  many  more  cold, 
stormy  days  than  there  had  been  warm  ones,  and  the  lit- 
tle tin  box  ill  which  Mr.  Eamsdell  kept  his  mone\  had 
been  nearly  empty  many  times,  with  no  prospect  that  it 
would  be  very  full  that  year. 

Finaliy  things  grew  so  bad  that  at  one  town  in  which 
they  gave  an  exhibition  Mr.  Eamsdell  did  not  receive 
much  more  than  money  enough  to  pay  for  the  food  he  \\as 
obliged  to  buy,  and  it  was  necessary  for  the  part  v  to  travel 
thirty  long  miles  before  they  could  reach  Howden,  where 
they  were  to  g'ive  the  next  performance. 

On  the  morning  that  they  started  the  roads  were  so  bad 
that  it  was  decided  to  travel  only  during  the  daytime, 
rather  than  attempt  to  go  over  the  distance  in  the  night, 
even  though  a  whole  day  should  be  lost.  Even  in  broad 
daylight  it  was  difficult  to  make  much  progress,  and  when 
noon  came,  after  they  had  ridden  about  twelve  miles  in 
such  deep  mud  that  the  horses  could  not  get  on  much  fast- 
er than  a  walk,  every  one  except  Mrs.  Eamsdell  was  glad 
to  get  oiil  for  a  while. 

The  horses,  still  harnessed  to  the  wagon,  were  standing 


by  the  side  of  the  road,  looking  much  as  if  they  would 
willingly  remain  there  until  the  next  week,  when  sud- 
denly a  loud  noise  was  heard  in  the  woods  close  beside 
them,  and  out  rushed  a  drove  of  cattle,  evidently  very 
much  frightened. 

This  startled  the  horses,  and  in  an  instant  they  rushed 
off  up  the  muddy  road  as  if  they-  were  fresh  and  with  no 
load  behind  them.  The  cattle,  seeing  Mr.  Eamsdell  and 
Jerry  standing  near  the  edge  of  the  road,  as  if  to  bar  their 
passage,  turned  and  ran  in  the  same  dii"  elion  as  that 
taken  by  the  horses,  which  served  to  increase  their  terror. 

Without  thinking  of  the  children,  or.  if  they  did  think 
of  them,  believing  that  they  could  overtake  the  wagon  aft- 
er a  short  race.  Mr.  Eamsdell  and  Jerry  started  in  pursuit 
i.f  ihe  runaways,  while  Mrs.  Eamsdell's  terrified  screams 
could  be  heard  even  after  the  wagon  had  disappeared 
around  a  bend  in  the  road. 

When  they  were  first  left  alone  Nina  and  Joe  did  not 
seem  to  think  that  there  was  any  reason  for  them  to  be 
alarmed  except  for  their  mother's  safety,  and  Nina  said, 
as  she  took  Joe  by  the  hand : 

"The  horses  won't  run  very  far,  Josey;  so  let's  walk 
right  along  fast,  so  that  father  won't  have  so  far  to  come 
back  for  us." 

The  two  children  started  along,  and  Joe  insisted  on 
turning  their  forced  walk  into  a  romp  by  stopping  now 
and  then  to  gather  particularly  large  clieekerberry  plums 
or  bunchberries. 

P>ul  when  they  had  walked  on  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
without  seeing  anything  either  of  their  parents  or  the 
wagon,  Nina  grew  alarmed,  and  she  insisted  that  Joe 
should  not  stop  by  the  road-side  any  more,  but  should  walk 
as  fast  as  possible. 

Ten  minutes  more  passed,  and  both  the  children  were 
thoroughly  frightened,  when  Joe  shouted,  "There  they 
aiv  now,  or  else  it's  something  they  have  dropped!'' 

That  which  he  saw  was  a  bundle  of  some  bright-colored 
material  directly  in  the  middle  of  the  road;  and  while  it 
was  so  small  that  there  was  no  chance  of  either  his  father 
or  his  mother  being  contained  in  it.  it  alt'orded  proof  that 
the  frightened  horses  had  kept  in  the  main  road  instead 
of  dashing  into  the  woods,  as  Nina  had  begun  to  fear. 

In  a  few  moments  they  were  standing  beside  the  bun- 
dle, and  then  both  saw  that  it  had  not  fallen  from  their 
wagon.  It  was  a  reasonably  good-si/ed  bundle,  covered 
with  a  red  shawl  which  they  knew  had  never  belonged 
lo  their  party,  and  before  they  had  had  time  to  touch  it. 
they  heard  a  strange  noise  coining  apparently  from  be- 
neath the  covering. 

"It's  something  alive!"  cried  Joe,  in  alarm.  "Let's 
run;"  and  before  his  sister  could  stop  him  he  was  oil'  at 
full  speed. 

"Don't  be  a  coward,  Josey,''  cried  Nina.  "  It  can't  hurt 
you.  Come  back." 

Joe  was  finally  persuaded  to  return  by  seeing  that  ihe 
mysterious  bundle  had  done  Nina  no  harm;  and  when  he 
got  back  to  her  she  was  just  opening  the  shawl. 

"  Why,  Joe  Eamsdell,"  she  cried,  excitedly,  "  it's  a  real 
live  baby!  an'  how  ever  did  it  get  out  here  alone  .'" 

Joe  could  not  answer  the  question,  but  he  could  and  did 
stand  staring  at  the  little  thing  which  his  sister  had  taken 
in  her  arms  much  as  if  be  suspected  the  baby  of  some 
murderous  design. 

Nina  was  too  much  excited  by  finding  the  wonderful 
baby  in  such  a  wonderful  place  to  feel  any  more  alarm 
about  her  parents;  but  she  followed  Joe  as  he  started  up 
the  road,  -.in-ing  and  talking  to  the  baby  to  try  to  per- 
suade it  not  to  make  quite  so  much  noise. 

In  ten  minute-:  more,  during  uhich  N'ina  had  coaxed 
the  baby  until  it  had  quietly  gone  to  sleep.  Joe  uttered  an- 
other loud  cry  of  joy,  which  was  caused  this  time  by  see- 
ing the  wagon  standing  by  the  side  of  the  road,  the  horses 
looking  quiet  and  repentant,  while  Mr.  Earn-dell  and 


OCTOBER  2,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


755 


Jerry  were  busily  engaged  mending  the  harness  that  had 
been  broken  during  the  m.ul  flight. 

"Nina's  went  an' gone  an'  found  a  baby  !"  cried  Joe,  as 
lie  ran  on  ahead,  eager  to  lie  tin-  Ih-M  to  tell  the  wonderful 
news:  and  Nina  held  her  precious  bundle  high  in  the  air 
that  all  might  see  it. 

"That  must  have  been  the  very  thing  I  saw  in  the  road 
when  we  was  rumiiii'  so  last  after  the  team, "said  Mr. 
Mamsdell,  when  he  and  his  wife  had  inspected  the  prize 
Nina  had  found.  "  I  thought  it  was  something  we'd  lost 
outer  I  he  wagon,  an'  I'd  made  ii|>  my  mind  to  go  back  an' 
look  for  il  after  we  got  the  harness  mended." 

"But  where  could  the  deal-  little  thing  have  come 
from  '."  asked  Mrs.  Ramsdell.  as  she  kissed  Nina's  baby. 

"That's  a  question  I  can't  answer. "  replied  Mr.  Mams- 
dell,  as  lie  looked  helplessly  at  the  shawl  and  its  contents. 
"  The,  only  thing  that  ptv/le-,  me  is.  what  are  \\  e  n-oin'  to 
do  \\  ilh  il  HOW  that  we  have  got  it  :" 

"Do  with  it!"  echoed  his  wife.  "Now.  Jacob,  what 
cm i  we  do  w  ith  it  i  You  wouldn't  be  the  man  to  say  that, 
we  shouldn't  take  it  with  us.  would  you  ;" 

"Of  course  we've  got  to  take  care  of  it  until  we  can 
find  its  parents:  lmt  \  ei  I  don't  see  how  we're  goin'  to 
gel  aloii'j  when  we're  all  in  the  ring." 

Mrs.  Mamsdell  was  certain  thai  they  could  manage  lo 
take  care  of  it  between  them;  but  Jerry  muttered  some- 
thing about  the  foolishness  of  taking  another  to  feed  when 

they  had  hardly  sufficient  for  themselves. 

"  You   oiighler  be  ashamed  of  savin'  that.  Jerry,"  said 
Mr.  Kainsdell,  almost  sternly  ;  and  perhaps  Jerry  did   feel 
ashamed,  for  he  worked  at  the  harness  with  so  much  ener- 
gy, that   in  a  few  moments  everything  was  read\    for  an 
other  start. 

Nina  insisted  oil  caring  for  "her  baby,"  as  she  called 
it,  and  when  she  was  once  more  in  her  nest  in  the  wauoii 
her  inoiber  gave  the  tiny  little  fellow  to  her  with  many 
injunctions  as  to  how  she  should  care  for  him. 

The  roads  were  so  bad,  and  the  hour  so  hit-  when  tin-. 
second  start  was  ell'ecied.  thai  Mr.  Mamsdell  decided  no! 
to  attempt  to  reach  Howden  that  night,  but  to  stop  at  the 
first  irood  camping-place  he  should  lind,  hoping  that  by 
giving  his  tired  horses  a  rest  1  iie\  would  be  able  to  travel 
the  remaining  distance  during  the  next  forenoon. 

It  was  not   more  than  live  minutes  after  the  party  start 
ed  before  Jerry  pointed  out  a,  small  road  or  lane  that  led 
to  a  thick  grove  of  pine-trees,  apparently  just  such  a  place 
as  would  suit  people  who  were  obliged  to  live  in  their 
tent  in  order  to  save  expense. 

"We'll  camp  right  there,"  said  Mr.  Ramsdell,  as  In- 
turned  the  horses  from  the  main  road,  "and  ue  must 
start  for  Howden  early  enough  in  the  morning  to  make 
sure  of  being  there  in  time  for  an  afternoon  performance. " 

Nina,  thought  she  had  never  been  so  happy  as  when 
she  sat  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  while  her  mother  pre- 
pared the  dinner,  and  many  were  the  plans  she  laid  for 
its  future  welfare.  At  night  she  cuddled  the  little  fellow 
in  her  arms  to  still  his  crying,  for  he  had  drunk  all  the 
milk,  and  with  the  first  light  of  day  Jerry  started  out  in 
search  of  some,  while  Mr.  Ramsdell  packed  the  tent  into 
the  wagon  and  otherwise  prepared  for  the  journey. 

Jerry  could  not  see  a  house  in  any  direction,  but  he 
found  a  cow,  which  was  probably  one  of  the  same  herd 
that  had  caused  the  runaway,  and  he  milked  her,  thinking 
it  no  crime  to  take  the  milk  in  view  of  the  baby's  neces- 
sities. 

The  tent  was  set  up  in  Howden  sufficiently  early  for 
an  afternoon's  performance,  and  then  came  Nina's  trou- 
ble, for  she  could  not  understand  how  they  could  all  be 
in  the  ring-  at  one  time,  owing  to  her  precious  baby's  im- 
perative and  oft-repeated  demands  for  attention. 

But  that  difficulty  was  soon  settled,  for  Mrs.  Ramsdell 
decided  that  the  little  fellow  should  be  left  in  charge  of 
whoever  was  in  the  dressing-tent,  and  that  when  all  were 


in  the  ring,  as  would  be  the  case  in  the  last  act,  Jerry 
should  be  intrusted  with  the  care  of  Nina's  baby.  Jerry 
was  not  very  well  pleased  with  this  arrangement,  but  he 
consented  to  it.  probably  because  he  thought  he  had  but 
half  atoned  for  his  selfish  words  by  getting  the  milk. 

The  day  was  bright,  even  if  it  was  cold,  and  the  little 
tent  was  filled  with  spectators  very  shortly  after  the  can- 
vas doors  were  opened,  much  to  the  delight  of  Mr.  Rams- 
dell, who  said,  just  before  the  performance  began,  that  he 
really  believed  Nina's  baby  was  bringing  them  good  luck. 

Mrs.  Ramsdell  was  walking  on  the  tight  rope,  and  Mr. 
Ramsdell  was  giving  the  baby  some  milk,  while  Nina  and 
Joe  were  wanning  themselves  at  the  little  stove  preparato- 
ry to  going  out  again  to  join  their  mother,  when  Jerry, 
putting  his  head  into  the  dressing-tent,  exclaimed, 

"There's  some  trouble  at  the  door,  for  two  or  three 
people  are  ther,-  talkin',  an'  some  have  come  in  without 
payin'." 

Before  Mr.  Mamsdell  could  reply,  or  even  give  the 
baby  to  Nina,  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  rushed  past  Jerry 
into  the  dressing  -  tent,  greatly  to  i  In- surprise  of  the  au- 
dience  as  well  as  the  proprietor  of  the  show;  and  almost 
before  Nina  knew  that  they  were  fairly  inside,  the  lady 
had  the  baby  in  her  arms,  kissing  it  until  there  seemed  to 
•  ry  danger  that  the  little  thing  would  be  smothered. 

Of  course  Mrs.  Ramsdell  was  astonished,  if  not  alarmed, 
at  the  entrance  of  these  strangers,  and.  after  excusing 
herself  to  i  he  audience,  she  hurried  into  the  dressing- tent 
to  learn  the  cause  of  the  intrusion. 

li  did  not  require  much  time  or  many  words  to  explain 
< -\  ei  \  thing,  for  the  baby  was  Nina's  no  longer,  but  was 
claimed  by  its  mother,  Mrs.  Dickson,  who  acted  very 
much  for  :;ome  time  after  she  found  it  as  if  she  were  afraid 
it  might  get  away  from  her  again. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dickson  and  the  baby  remained  in  the 
dressing-tent  until  the  performance  was  ended,  and  then 
the  mystery  of  finding  the  baby  in  the  road  was  a  m\s 
tery  no  Longer, 

Mr.  Dickson  was  a  farmer  who  lived  about  half-way  be- 
tween where  the  baby  was  found  and  Howden.  He.  with 
his  wife,  child,  and  nurse,  were  returning  home  from  a 
visit  in  a  lighl  carriage  drawn  by  a  pair  of  young  spirit- 
ed horses.  They  were  but  a  short  distance  iii  advance  of 
Mr.  Ramsdell's  wagon  when  his  horses  ran  away,  and  the 
clatter  of  the  heavy  team,  as  well  as  the  cattle  that  fol- 
low ed.  frightened  Mr.  Dickson's  horses  so  that  they  too 
ran  awa\  . 

The  nurse,  who  was  holding  the  baby,  was  thrown  from 
her  seat  at  the  first  shock,  and,  in  order  to  save  herself 
from  being  thrown  from  the  carriage,  dropped  the  babv. 
which  was  so  snugly  wrapped  in  clothing  and  shawls  that 
it  did  not  receive  any  injury. 

It  was  not  until  his  horses  had  run  nearly  five  miles 
that  Mr.  Dickson  succeeded  in  stopping  them,  and  he  at 
once  drove  back,  his  wife  almost  frantic  with  grief  and 
apprehension,  to  find  the  child.  In  the  mean  time  Mr. 
Kainsdell  had  pitched  his  tent  in  the  grove,  and  when  Mr. 
Dickson  returned  he  could  neither  find  his  baby  nor  any 
trace  of  the  wagon  that  had  caused  the  disaster. 

All  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  until  they  came  into 
the  tent  had  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dickson  been  searching  for  the 
showman's  wagon,  and  their  joy  may  be  imagined  when 
they  found  it. 

Poor  Nina  lost  her  baby,  but  it  brought  them  good  for- 
tune, as  her  father  had  suggested,  for  Mr.  Dickson  insist 
ed  that  the  showman  should  come  at  once  to  his  house; 
and  when  they  were  there  arrangements  were  made  for 
Mr.  Ramsdell  to  close  the  season,  and  occupy  a  little  house 
owned  by  Mr.  Dickson  for  the  winter. 

Nina  and  Joe,  for  that  time  at  least,  had  a  real  house 
to  live  in,  with  an  opportunity  to  go  to  school,  which  they 
had  never  had  before,  and  all  that  good  fortune  came  to 
them  through  "Nina's  babv." 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


'DICK     AND     D." 

BY    LUCY    C.    L  ILL  IE, 

Axitlior    oi    "Mildred's    Bargain,"   "Nan,"   etc. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
THE  RUNAWAYS  FIND  SHELTER. 

AS  soon  as  Dick  dared  he  told  Norry  what  had  prompt- 
ed this  movement,  aud  the  child  was  quite  willing  to 
trust  to  his  brother's  superior  judgment.  Ahead  of  them 
was  a  snowy  road,  shadowed  by  trees,  and  yet  looking  as 
though  it  must  lead  somewhere,  since  the  railroad  tracks 
were  there,  stretching  far  ahead  of  them. 

Dick  knew  that  Gurdle  would  miss  them  before  morn- 
ing. Perhaps  he  would  only  glance  in  during  the  night, 
and  not  be  sure  that  they  had  gone ;  but  they  could  not 
feel  safe  for  a  day  or  two,  and,  indeed,  not  until  they  were 
within  reach  of  Dr.  Field's  country  home,  where  Dick  now 
took  for  granted  the  Doctor  must  be  staying.  He  had 
heard  from  Dearing  that  the  family  from  time  to  time  pass- 
ed a  few  days  in  Marplains,  and  lie  concluded  that  some 
such  visit  was  now  in  progress. 

"Hold  my  hand  tight,  Norry,"  Dick  whispered,  "  'cause 
there's  a  bank  near  by,  and  it's  dark,  and  I'm  afraid  you'll 
slip.  Are  you  cold  ?" 

Norry.  although  with  a  little  chatter  of  the  teeth,  said, 
"Not  M  '  very."  And  then  he  added,  "You  see,  dark  don't 
matter  to  me,  Dick,  does  it  ?" 

"No,"  the  other  answered.  "I  do  sometimes  think 
your  eyes  are  better  than  mine,  after  all." 

It  seemed  an  endless  road.  Dick's  chief  anxiety  was  to 
n-;ich  a  railway  station  where  he  might  ask  his  way.  and 
perhaps  beg  a  ride  as  far  as  Marplains  station ;  but  for  two 
hours  the  boys  trudged  on,  with  no  such  reward,  and  then, 
to  Dick's  dismay,  Norry  declared  he  could  go  no  further. 

The  road  just  at  this  point  was  very  desolate;  the  snow 
lay  white  on  every  side ;  the  branches  of  the  trees  looked 
very  black  and  gaunt;  only  the  sky  seemed  friendly,  for 
there  a  million  stars  were  shining  down  upon  the  two 
poor  boys  with  their  faithful  dog. 

*  Begun  in  No.  199,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"You  mustn't  sit  down, 
Norry,"  Dick  said.  "Can 
you  get  along  a  little  way  ; 
I  think  I  see  a  light  some- 
where ahead;  perhaps  we 
can  get  there  and  ask  for  a 
place,  hi  a  barn  or  some- 
where, to  lie  down." 

Norry    very    faintly    an 
swi-red  that  lie  would  try. 
and  so  with  lagging  steps 
they  went  forward  again. 

The  light  grew  clearer. 
Dick  soon  saw  that  it  came 
from  a  small  cottage  on  the 
road-side,  and  that  to  the 
left  of  it  was  a  sort  of  half- 
open,  probably  disused  shed. 
He  encouraged  Norry  by 
telling  him  of  this,  and  in 
a  few  moments  they  were 
at  the  entrance  of  the  shed. 
Just  as  he  had  supposed,  it 
was  a  vacant  tumble-down 
place,  but  at  least  it  was  a 
shelter,  and  so  open  that  he 
thought  Gurdle  would  nev- 
er think  of  their  concealing 
themselves  within  it.  He 

led  Norry  over  to  the  most  comfortable  corner,  and  then 
took  from  his  bundle  an  old  coat,  which  made  a  cov- 
ering for  the  child  when  he  lay  down  with  his  head  on 
Dick's  knee.  For  himself  aud  Trusty  there  must  be  no 
sleep.  They  must  watch. 

As  he  sat  there  Dick  saw  the  light  in  the  cottage  win- 
dow move  about;  he  thought  some  one  must  be  ill,  for  he 
knew  it  was  long  after  midnight.  It  gave  him  a  less 
lonely  feeling  to  see  a  shadow  on  the  blind,  to  know 
that  some  one  was  up  and  awake  so  near.  Oh,  if  only  he 
dared  to  go  to  the  house  and  ask  for  a  better  shelter! 
But  this  he  could  not  do  without  explanations  which 
might  lead  to  his  m-aplure.  and  prevent  his  being  able  to 
warn  Dr.  Field  of  his  danger. 

So  he  sat  still  while  the  morning  broke.  The  sun  rose 
in  a  glorious  fashion  over  the  snowy  country,  and  slowly 
everything  seemed  to  awake  to  a  new  sense  of  life  and 
brightness.  But  poor  Dick  felt  none  of  the  day's  sweet- 
ness. He  was  stiff  and  cold,  and  with  daylight  seemed  to 
come  only  a  .new  sense  of  terror. 

Presently  he  saw  the  door  of  the  cottage  open,  and  a 
young  woman  with  a  red  shawl  over  her  head  came  and 
put  down  a  milk-can.  She  stood  a  minute  looking  up  and 
down  the  quiet  country  road,  and  Dick  saw  that  her  face, 
though  plain  and  weather-beaten,  was  very  kindly  in  its 
expression. 

In  a  moment  he  had  decided  to  speak  to  her. 
He  woke  Norry,  told  him  to  sit  still  where  he  was,  and 
with  Trusty  at  his  heels  he  crossed  the  bit  of  roadway,  and 
stood  timidly  in  front  of  the  woman. 

"  Well !  why.  I  never!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  d'  you 
want,  boy  ?" 

"If  you  please,"  Dick  said,  "  my  little  brother  and  I 
have  walked  a  long  way,  and  we've  further  yet  to  go — we 
must  go — and  I  took  the  liberty  of  staying  in  your  shed, 
and  I  thought  perhaps  you'd  let  us  have  a  little  breakfast. " 
The  young  woman  stared  at  him  a  moment,  aud  then 
said: 

"Well,  upon  my  word!  You  staid  over  in  the  shed! 
Well,  I  must  say  you'd  oughter  feel  cold.  I  don't  know 
as  I  can't  give  you  something  or  other  t'  eat.  Where's 
your  brother  ?" 

Dick  ran  back  to  the  shed.  He  returned  very  quickly 
holding  Norrv  bv  the  hand. 


ni  TUBER  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


757 


••  lie's  blind,"  he  said,  softly. 

The  woman  peered  down  into  the  little  thin  peaceful 
face.  "  Why.  so  he  be!"  she  said,  in  a  much  gentler  voice. 
•mil  thru  she  added.  "  I  guess  yon  can  conn-  right  in." 

They  \\ere  at  the  back  d<  «>r.  and  she  turned  and  led  the 
way  into  a  square  clean  kitchen,  where  a  lire  was  blazing 
cheerily,  and  the  kettle  was  already  on.  At  one  side  there 
was  a  long  wooden  settle,  and  she  told  Dick  that  Norrx 
had  better  sit  there  and  get  warm. 

"And  you  say  you've  walked  a  good  way  '."  she  asked, 
curiously. 

"Yes.  ma'am."  Dick  answered.  "And  we've  further 
tu  go;  we've  got  an  errand  ill  Marplains." 

"Mai-plains'"  she  echoed.  "  W  by.  that's  a  matter  of 
ten  miles." 

••  Is  it,  ma'am.'  Well,  we've  <i»t  I"  gel  there  -soon  as 
i\  e  can." 

••\Vhv,  In'  can't  walk  it."  she  ^>id.  contemptuously, 
pointing  at  Norry.  "  You'll  never  drag  him  along." 

I  tick  lo,,ked  curiously  at  Worry's  drooping  ligtire. 

•'  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  try."  he  said,  in  a  sad  tone. 

The  young  woman  made   no  answer  to  Ibis,  but    bewail 
bustling  about,  Belting  some  breakfast    for  tbe  wanderers. 
She  had  some  milk   boiling  in  a  few  minutes,  into  which 
she  broke   up  some   pieces 
of  stale   bread,  and   never 
had  anything-  tasted  better 
to  (he  I  wo   boys  than    this 
simple  meal.     Norry's  face 
looked  decidedly  beltera  ft 
er     lie     had     linished     his 
bowl,     and     Trusty,     who 
had   shared   the   breakfast, 
u  a^-ed  bis  tail  in  a  most 
contented  fashion. 

While  they  were  eating, 
a  voice  from  upstairs  call- 
ed out,  "  Nancy  !'' 

And  the  young-  woman 
answered  back.  "-All  rig-ht, 
father — one  minute.  That 
is  my  father;  he's  sick." 
she  explained.  ''Now  I 
suppose,"  she  added,  "I 
can  trust  you  hei'e  while  I 
run  ii]>  to  him  ;" 

Dick  assured  her  that 
she  might  do  so,  and  she 
disappeared  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. 

During  her  absence  Dick 
loc  >ked  around  the  comfort- 
able little  kitchen,  wishing 
it  might  be  their  good  luck 
to  spend  the  day  there. 
He  described  it  to  Norry. 

There  was  a  nice  rag- 
carpet  on  the  floor,  and  one 
or  two  comfortable  wicker- 
seated  arm  -  chairs.  The 
dresser  showed  a  bright 
array  of  tins  and  china, 
and  the  tall  clock  in  one 
corner  seemed  to  tick  with 
a  very  home-like  sound. 
Altogether  Dick  thought 
Nancy  and  her  father, 
whoever  they  were,  ought 
to  be  very  happy;  and  he 
wondered  why  it  was  that 
to  himself  and  Norry  only 
glimpses  of  such  peace  and 
quiet  could  be  granted. 


Presently  Nancy's  step  was  heard,  and  she  came  in,  look- 
ing brighter. 

"  I've  been  talking  to  father  about  your  little  brother," 
she  said  to  Dick,  "and  he  says,  if  you  like,  you  might  leave 
him  here  for  the  day.  Father  doesn't  mind  children,  anil 
he  had  a  blind  brother  himself.'1 

Nancy  stood  looking  down  very  pityingly  on  the  tired 
little  traveller. 

"Oh,  you  arc  so  good!"  Dick  exclaimed.  "But — I 
irmilil  leave  him  if  I  thought  that,  no  matter  who  came  and 
wanted  to  take  him  away,  you  wouldn't  let  them — just  un- 
til night.  If  I  wasn't  back  to  night —  But  I  will  be.  Oh, 
fun  yon  promise  that  .'" 

"  Of  course  I  will."  Nancy  said,  in  Ler  brisk  way.  "  I 
can't  be  made  to  give  him  up  to  any  one  before  night. 
Now  where  are  you  going  in  Marplains  :" 

Dick  said  he  wanted  to  tind  the  house  of  a  Dr.  Field. 

"T  know  where  he  lives,  "she  said.  "  But  I  s'pose  any 
one  '11  show  you." 

Dick  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  oil'  at  once,  but  he  waited 
to  see  Norrv  and  Trusty  very  comfortably  established  oil 
a  long  chint/  sofa,  and  to  re  assure  Norry  that  he  would 
dune  back  without  fail.  Then  he  started  off,  following 
the  railroad  track  as  before. 


•HE'S    BLIND,'  HE    SAID,   SOFTLY." 


758 


HAHPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLI'ME  IV. 


He  walked  along  a  full  mile  before  he  reached  a  railroad 
station,  and  there  he  went  in,  asking  the  ticket-master 
when  the  trains  went  on  to  Mat-plains. 

"Nothing  before  two  o'clock,"  said  the  man,  rather 
gruffly. 

Dick  hesitated.  He  did  not  feel  quite  so  sure  now 
as  he  had  done  that  he  could  ask  for  a  free  ride  to  Mar- 
plains.  After  a  moment  he  turned  away,  resolving  to 
walk  on.  That,  at  least,  he  could  do,  and  he  was  not  very 
tired. 

The  station  was  known  as  Burchell,  and  was  one  of  the 
lonely  places  at  which  one  always  wonders  that  any  train 
ever  stops;  but,  as  Dick  had  seen,  it  was  where  Nancy  and 
her  father  lived,  and  the  remembrance  of  the  warm  cozy 
kitchen  he  had  left  took  away  something  of  the  desolate 
feeling  with  which  the  rough,  forlorn  place  inspired 
him.  He  turned  his  steps  resolutely  onward,  walking 
at  first  very  briskly;  but  then  there  crossed  his  mind 
a  dreadful  fear  lest  harm  should  come  to  Norry  in  his 
absence. 

Dick  stood  still.  What  ought  he  to  do — leave  Norry  to 
some  possible  danger,  or  go  on  and  give  Dr.  Field  his  warn- 
ing- i  It  was  a  moment  of  agonized  doubt.  Suppose  they 
should  even  refuse  to  believe  him — should  accuse  him  of 
being  mixed  up  with  Brooks  and  Gurdle  ?  And,  in  the 
end,  suppose  the  result  were  to  be  the  loss  of  poor  blind 
Norry?  Dick  looked  around  him.  up  and  down  the  lone- 
ly road,  wondering  wherein  lay  his  real  duty:  and  then 
it  came  to  him  strongly  that,  commending  his  brother  to 
God's  keeping,  he  must  go  on.  He  must  do  what  he  could 
to  save  Dr.  Field,  or  any  of  those  dear  to  him,  from  dan- 
ger. So  thinking,  the  boy  pressed  forward. 

[TO    UK    eONTINTKD.] 


THY  AGAIN. 

BY  THOMAS  OAKES  C'OXANT. 

MARGY  with  the  flaxen  hair 
Sat.  the  picture  of  despair. 
"Five  times  six  aud  eight  times  seven, 
Add  results,  and  by  eleven 
Multiply — oh  no,  divide — 
And  I  don't  know  what   beside. 
Oh,  this  horrid,  horrid  sum! 
Right   I  can  not  make  it  come." 
So  said  Miirgy,  with  a  sigh, 
Crying,  "  Tis  no  use  to  try." 

Gray-haired  grandma,  sitting  near, 
Heard  the  sijrh  and  saw  the  tear. 
"Margy  darling,  hither  come: 
Let   nil-  see  thv 'horrid  sum.'" 
Seaiining  all  the  work,  she  saw 
Here  a  slip  and  there  a  flaw. 
"Ah.  my  Margy,  plain  to  see 
Why  the  figures  don't  agree. 
Little  maid,  thy  sore  distress 
Is  the  fruit  of  heedlessness." 

"Oh,  but,  grandma,  I  have  tried 
Just  as  hard!"  poor  Margy  cried; 
"But  the  iiiiuirhly  figures  go 
Somehow  always   wr.ing.  you  know." 
Then.  1o  her  supreme  dUniav. 
Grandma  sponged  the  work'awav. 
And,  for  Margv's  eyes  to  read, 
Wrote,  in   letters  large  and  plain, 

"IF   AT   PIIiST   YOU   DON'T    si  rei.;|.;n. 
TliY,   AM)    TRY.   AND    TRY    AOAIN." 

When  the  wise  old  saw  she  read, 
"Thank  you.  grandma  dear. "  she  said. 
Then  with  bright  and  cheerful  air 
Worked  the  sum  with  double  care, 
And  the  answer — happy  sight! — 
Came  at  last  exactly  right. 
"Now,"  the  little  maiden  cried, 
Laughing,  in  her  girlish  pride, 
"When  my  naughty  sums  s;o  wrong, 
'  THY  AGAIN'  shall  be  my  song." 


THE  GREEN-COATED  SOLDIER, 
BY    DAVID    KER. 

MANY  a  long  year  ago  three  or  four  regiments  of  Rus- 
siaii  soldiers  were  encamped  on  a  Hat  sandy  plain 
upon  the  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland,  not  far  from  a  new 
town  which  had  just  been,  built  at  the  mouth  of  the  river 
Neva,  and  called  St.  Petersburg.  The  sun  was  beginning 
to  set,  and  the  men,  having  linished  their  marching  and 
exercising,  were  having  a  rest  after  the  day's  work,  or  be- 
ginning to  get  ready  their  supper. 

Most  of  them  were  strong  and  sturdy  fellows  who 
looked  as  if  they  could  stand  a  good  deal  of  hard  work. 
and  hard  fighting  too,  before  giving  in.  But  they  cer- 
tainly did  not  wear  a  very  soldier-like  appearance,  for  all 
that:  they  moved  heavily  and  clumsily,  and  bandied  their 
muskets  as  if  they  had  been  more  used  to  ploughs  and 
spades  than  weapons  of  war. 

Awkward  though  they  seemed,  however,  these  very 
meii  were  to  be  able,  only  a  few  years  later,  to  give  King- 
Charles  of  Sweden  (who  was  then  thought  to  be  the  best 
soldier  alive)  such  a  beating  that  neither  he  nor  his  army 
ever  meddled  with  Russia  again.  But  as  they  were 
now,  they  made  a  poor  figure  enough;  and  so,  no  doubt, 
thought  a  big  red-haired  man  in  Russian  uniform,  who, 
with  his  arms  folded  on  his  broad  chest,  and  a  scornful 
smile  on  his  face,  was  watching  half  a  dozen  of  them  light 
a  fire. 

"Pretty  fellows  you  are  to  call  yourselves  soldiers!" 
cried  he,  in  broken  Russian,  "  when  you  can  hardly  tell 
the  butt  of  a  gun  from  its  muzzle,  and  don't  even  know 
how  to  kindle  a  fire  yet.  We  manage  things  better  in 
Silesia,  where  /was  born  and  bred." 

''Well,  if  your  country  is  so  much  better  than  ours, 
why  didn't  you  stay  there  :"  asked  one  of  the  Russian  re- 
cruits, sulkily. 

"  Because  I  was  wanted  here  to  make  you  Russian  luh- 
bers  into  soldiers,''  answered  the  Silesian,  fiercely;  "and 
a  mighty  hard  job  it  is.'' 

The  recruit  muttered  something  between  his  teeth,  but 
did  not  venture  to  make  any  direct  reply;  for  this  Sile- 
sian, Michael  Kratsch,  was  a  noted  bully,  and  the  strong- 
est man  in  the  regiment,  and  any  one  who  tried  to  ar^u*- 
with  him  generally  ended  by  getting  a  broken  head  for 
his  pains. 

While  Kratsch  was  still  fuming  at  finding  no  one  to 
vent  his  anger  upon,  a  little  drummer-boy,  coming  past 
with  a  can  of  water  much  too  heavy  for  his  thin  arms, 
stumbled  against,  him  by  accident.  Like  lightning  Big 
Michael  faced  round  and  dealt  the  poor  little  fellow  a  kick 
which  sent  him  to  the  ground,  screaming  with  pain,  and 
caused  him  to  spill  every  drop  of  the  precious  water  that 
had  cost  so  much  trouble  to  bring. 

An  angry  murmur  ran  through  the  group  of  Russians, 
and  the  Silesian  turned  savagely  upon  them. 

"What  are  you  growling  at,  you  dogs  ?  If  you  have 
anything  to  say  to  me,  say  it  out.  You  ought  to  know- 
by  this  time,  I  should  think,  that  one  honest  Silesian  is  a 
match  for  half  a  dozen  such  as  you  /" 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  2"  asked  a  deep  voice  be- 
hind him. 

Every  one  looked  round  with  a  start,  for  nobody  had 
noticed  a  soldier  standing  near  the  group,  and  listening 
to  the  Silesiau's  boastful  talk  with  a  smile  of  quiet  amuse- 
ment. 

The  new-comer  picked  up  the  little  drummer-boy  very 
tenderly,  refilled  his  can  from  a  bucket  that  stood  near, 
and  sent  him  away  rejoicing.  Then  he  came  slowly  up 
to  the  tall  Silesian  and  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

Kratsch  eyed  the  stranger  from  head  to  foot,  and  did 
not  altogether  like  the  look  of  him.  His  dress  was  no- 
thmg  very  grand,  to  be  sure,  being  simply  the  plain  green 
coat  of  a  Russian  private,  so  soiled  and  threadbare  that  an 


t >! TUBER  2,  isss. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


759 


old-clothes  man  would  scarcely  have  taken  it  as  a  irift. 
But  lie  was  as  tall  as  Rig  Michael  himself,  while  his  huge 
limbs  and  brawny  chest  made  such  a  show  of  strength 
that  most  i>fiiple  would  have  thought  it  much  better  to 
shake  hands  with  him  than  ID  liiyht  him. 

••So!"  said  Ilie  green  coated  man.  quietly.  "oneSile- 
,-.  -  match  for  half  a  do/en  Russians,  eh  '.  Well.  I 
can  see  that  lie's  their  match  at  liriii/i/ini/.  anyhow!" 

'1'ln-  Russians  chuckled  at  this  nnc-\|ii-cted  hit.  and  one 
i  if  them  laughed  outright.  Kratsch's  face  Hushed  purple 
with  rajji?,  and  for  a  moment  hi'  seemed  just  about  to  fly 
at  the  speaker's  throat.  I!ut  there  was  something  iii  the 

stranger's  bearing,  and  in  the  ralm.  steadfast  glance  oi 
his  keen  black  eye,  uhich  coued  even  the  lierce  soldier. 
who  drew  back  with  a  sullen  growl. 

"  Well."  said  (  rreencoat,  quid  |\  .  "  \\c  Russians  have  a 
:-a\  inn'  that  corn  dnesii't  gm\\  by  talking.  If  you  are  a 
match,  as  you  say.  for  any  half  il.. /en  of  us.  let  us  see 
what  you  can  do." 

"  Could  you  throw  that  stone  farther  than  [  can?"  ask- 
ed the  Silesiaii.  pointinu-  In  a  In  avy  stone  a!  his  feet. 

"  1  '-an  heller  answer  that  when  I  have  seen  you  throw 
it."  replied  (  irecneoat.  as  coolly  as  e\  . 

Michael  Kralsch  threw  off  his  coal,  ami  harinu'  an  arm 
as  tliic-k  as  an  ordinary  man's  knee,  hurled  the  stone  ~e\  en 
good  \  arils  away. 

The  rnkno\\n  tlirew.  ill  his  turn,  so  carelessly  that  he 
sei  med  liai-dly  to  exert  himself  at  all.  yet  the  stone  fell 
more  than  a  fool  lie\on,|  K ra Iseh's  mark. 

'I'lie  l,'iis>iaiis  raised  a  vlmiit  of  triiim|ih.  and  Michael's 
face  grew  black  as  midnight. 

"Are  you  as  nimble  with  your  feet  as  wilh  your 
hands  '."  growled  he.  through  his  set  teeth. 

"Try," answered  ( Jreencnat.  sim]ily. 

Kratsch  pointed  to  a  broad  ditch  a    little  behind  them, 
and  taking  a  short    run.  shot   through  the  air  like   an    ar 
row.      The  ditch  was  fully  lifleen  feel  \\ide  from  bank  to 
bank,  \  el,  he  alighted  several  inches  beyond  it. 

"Pretly  fair."  said  the  1'n known,  smiling:  "  but  I  Ihink 
I  can  match  it." 

And  so  he  did,  for  his  leap  overpassed  Kralsch's  b\  six 
inches  at  least.  At  the  sight  of  the  heavy  Russian  Faces 
grinning  from  ear  to  ear  over  his  discomliture  the  Sile 
siau's  e\  es  Hashed  lire. 

"You  haven't  done  with  me  yet."  he  roared,  "smart 
though  you  think  yourself.  Dare  you  wrestle  a  fall  with 
me  .'" 

Without  a  word  the  stranger  threw  oil'  his  coat  and 
stepped  forward. 

It  was  a  grand  and  terrible  sight  to  see  the  two  giants 
strain  their  mighty  limbs  and  seize  each  other  with  their 
iron  arms,  both  faces  growing  suddenly  hard  and  stern  as 
they  grappled.  Every  man  among  the  lookers-on  held 
his  breath  as  that  great  struggle  beyan. 

Thrice   did  the  Silesian   make  a  tremendous  effort  to 
throw-  his  enemy  with  a  strength  that  seemed  able  to  tear 
up  an  oak  by  the  roots.      But  the  Russian,  though  shak- 
en, stubbornly  kept  his  feet,  until  Kratsch  paused,  breath-  j 
less  and  nttorly  spent. 

Then  the  watching  eyes  all  round  saw  the  stranger's 
arms  tighten  suddenly,  and  \\\^  Michael's  huge  broad 
back  bend  slowly  in.  Furiously  he  struggled  against  the 
overmastering  clutch,  but  he  had  no  more  chance  than  an 
ox  in  the  coils  of  a  boa.  At  last  the  Unknown  lifted  him 
fairly  oft'  his  feet,  and  hurled  him  backward  with  such 
force  that  he  fell  with  a  dull  crash  against  a  large  stone 
behind  him,  and  lay  stunned  and  motionless. 

Just  then  was  heard  a  cry  of  "There  he  is!  there  he 
is!"  and  several  richly  dressed  men,  running  up  to  the 
spot,  bowed  reverently  to  the  green-coated  soldier. 

"  We  have  been  looking  for  your  Majesty,"  said  one  of 
them,  "to  give  you  these  dispatches  which  a  courier  has 
just  brought  from  Moscow." 


At  the  word  "Majesty"  the  Russian  recruits  all  fell  on 
their  knees,  considerably  startled  to  find  that  this  shabbv- 
coated  private  was  no  other  than  the  LV.ar  himself.  Peter 

the  ('feat  of  Russia. 

"Up  with  you,  lads!"  cried  Peter;  "kneel  to  no  one 
but  God.  Yon  are  Russian  soldiers,  and  I'm  your  Gener- 
al :  that's  all." 

Then  he  turned  to  Kratsch,  who  lay  groaning  on  the 
ground,  with  his  left  arm  broken. 

I'll  forgive  thee  this  time,  fellow,"  said  the  CV.ar; 
"but  if  ever  1  catch  thee  ill  treating  a  child  airain,  look 
out!  As  for  these  soldiers  of  mine  at  whom  yon  laugh, 
within  live  years  they  shall  be  the  wonder  of  all  Europe.." 

And  so  they   were. 


WORK  FOR  GIRLS. 
A  VF.IM    SIMPLE  WAY  OF  DEri  UtATIM;   C|M\  \ 

Ni>\Y.\l>AYS  no  one  likes  to  see  plain  white  china 
on  breakfast  or  dinner  table.  Here  is  a  nielhodby 
which  cups  and  saueers  and  plates  may  be  daintily  deco- 
rated by  industrious  lingers  without  the  knowledge  and 
practice  necessary  in  china-painting.  The  process  is  very 
simple,  and  can  he  easily  managed  at  home  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  liring.  We  will  call  it.  "scratch  work." 

I  'rocure  a  few  dishes  such  as  are  ustialh  sold  I'orenam- 
el  painting,  overglaze  colors  being  used.  We  will  begin 
b\  decorating  a  cup  and  saucer.  I  ,es|  the  mixing  of  the 
colors  be  loo  dillicult  an  operalion.  it  is  heller  lo  purchase 
them  in  tubes.  Rich  tints  art-  the  mosl  etl'ective,  such  as 
deep  pink.  blue,  orange,  or  a  warm  chocolate  broun.  A 
preparation  of  gold  will  also  be  needed. 

Give  the  cup  and  saucer  Doth  a  good  coating  of  the  paint. 
covering  Ihe  entire  outside.  \\  it  1 1  the  exec]  it  ion  of  the  han- 
dle. Should  the  pain!  prove  \er\  slow  in  drying1,  it  may 
be  placed  for  a  short  time  in  a  slightly  warm  oven.  A 
second  coating  will  often  be  found  necessary.  Until  fired 
the  surface  will  present  a  very  rough  appearance.  When 
perfectly  dry.  sketch  wilh  a  very  soft  lead-pencil  lightly 
any  pattern  fancy  may  dictate. 

The  saucer  will  n 1  only  a  wreath  of  vine  leaves  just 

within  the  rim.  The  cup  may  be  made  more  elaborate  by 
having  in  addition  to  the  wreath  a  monogram  containing 
the  letters  of  the  one  who  is  to  use  it.  If  any  difficulty 
be  experienced  in  sketching  the  pattern  evenly,  it  can  easi- 
ly be  drawn  on  tissue  or  tracing  paper,  and  fastened  on 
the  china  over  a  piece  of  transfer-paper.  The  latter  can 
be  quickly  made  by  well  rubbing  one  side  of  some  unglazed 
note-paper  with  a  cake  of  ordinary  black-lead. 

Great  care  must  be  taken  in  handling  the  articles  after 
the  paint  has  been  put  on,  for  warm  lingers  will  often  leave 
ail  ugly  mark;  it  is  best  to  use  a  soft  cloth  of  some  kind 
as  a,  protection.  With  a  penknife  or  other  sharp-pointed 
instrument  scrape  away  the  paint  from  within  the  lines 
of  the  design,  thus  transforming  it  into  a  wreath  of  white 
leaves  on  the  rich  background.  Manage  the  monogram 
in  the  same  way. 

Now  take  a  small  brush,  and  with  a  very  thin  paint  of 
the  same  color  as  the  background  add  a  slight  shading  to 
the  leaves  and  flowers.  Then  put  in  the  veins  in  gold. 
The  monogram  should  have  the  same  mingling  of  gold 
and  color.  Here,  of  course,  everything  depends  upon  the 
taste  and  skill  of  the  worker.  Any  one  possessing  a  slight 
knowledge  of  drawing  may  produce  very  pretty  etchings. 
using  for  the  purpose  a  coarse  darning-needle.  Etchings 
on  medallions  of  color  may  even  be  considered  prettier 
than  when  the  whole  article  is  colored. 

WThen  your  design  is  complete  the  best  plan  is  to  con- 
sult some  dealer  in  china.  He  will  always  he  able  to 
direct  you  as  to  the  best  method  of  dispatching  your  work 
to  the  nearest  pottery,  where  it  will  be  put  through  the 
process  of  firing,  and  returned  to  you  ready  for  use. 


760 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A 


LITTLE    CURLY-HEAD. 


THE  ONYX-ANTELOPE. 

HARD-HEADED,  sharp-horned  native  of  Southern 
Africa  is  the  onyx-antelope.  He  is  also  known  to 
students  of  natural  history  by  the  name  of  onyx-capensis, 
gemshok,  and  South  African  onyx.  Some  writers  at  one 
time  believed  him  to  be  none  other  than  the  fabled  uni- 
corn. He  is  much  larger  than  the  common  antelope, 
measuring  nearly  four  feet  at  the  shoulders,  with  horns 
three  feet  long,  very  slightly  bent,  sharp,  black,  and  shin- 
ing1, that  serve  him  as  admirable  means  of  defense. 

His  hair  is  of  a  buff -color,  with  the  breast  and  belly 
white;  black  stripes  cover  his  head  exactly  in  the  shape  of 


His  party  had  arrived  on  the  hunt- 
ing ground  about  daybreak,  and  had 
stopped  to  admire  the  long  slender  horns 
of  a  bleaching  skull  on  theground,  when 
one  of  the  Hottentots  pointed  to  a  group 
of  hartebeests  some  distance  away, 
among  which  was  the  loiig-looked-for 
game. 

' '  There  stood  the  gemsbok,  clad  half 
in  mourning,  looming  up  as  large  as  a 
donkey,  and  scanning  our  party  most 
attentively,  his  long,  taper,  toasting- 
fork  horns,  like  a  pair  of  walking-sticks, 
standing  out  in  bold  relief  against  the 

blue  horizon I  was  mounted  on  my 

favorite  horse,  and  the  Hottentots  being 
unanimously  of  the  opinion  with  my- 
self that  'Breslar  could  catch  de  bok,' 
my  companion  made  a  circuit  to  inter- 
cept him  from  the  jungles,  whilst  I 
cantered  slowly  toward  him,  looking 
of  course  in  the  opposite  direction,  af- 
fecting most  profound  ignorance  of  his 
princely  presence,  but  treating  myself 
as  I  drew  nearer  to  an  occasional  peep 
from  under  my  cap." 

When  the  Captain  had  succeeded  in 
getting'  within  from  eighty  to  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  herd,  the  antelope  ut- 
tered a  shrill  cry  as  of  rage,  and  low- 
ering his  head,  wheeled  about,  running 
with  almost  incredible  swiftness,  and 
not  paying  the  slightest  heed  to  his 
companions.  He  started  for  the  thick- 
est jungle,  going  at  a  speed  which 
would  have  made  it  impossible  to  over- 
take him  had  not  the  Captain's  friend 
made  his  appearance  from  out  the  jun- 
gle just  in  time  to  turn  the  animal  in 
his  course.  The  gemsbok  was  then 
obliged  to  cross  between  these  two  lines 
of  enemies. 

Disappointed  in  his  plan  of  taking 

refuge  in  the  jungle,  he  dashed  aside  into  a  kind  of  valley, 
leading  his  would-be  captor  over  uneven,  stony  ground, 
from  which  the  vegetation  had  lately  been  burned. 

"Without  gaining  or  losing  a  single  inch  upon  each 
other,  on  we  clattered,  the  straight  antennae-looking  horns 
of  the  fugitive  laid  back  along  his  flanks,  his  belly  almost 
touching  the  ground  at  every  stride,  and  his  ample  tail 
sweeping  behind  him.  Now  the  dust  raised  by  a  retreat- 
ing herd  of  zebras  and  ostriches,  whose  feet  rattled  over 
the  hard  soil,  caused  a  momentary  diversion  in  bis  favor; 
and  now,  regaining  my  lost  ground,  we  passed  together  un- 
der the  sneering  noses  of  three  rhinoceroses,  that  had  lit- 
erally not  time  to  make  up  their  minds  what  was  to  be 


a  horse's  bridle,  giving  him  the  appearance  of  having  a  I  done,  before,  meteor-like,  both  pursuer  and  pursued  were 
harness  on,  while  his  ears  are  white,  tipped  with  black.          far  beyond  their  reach." 

Five  miles  at  least  of  this  mad  chase  had  been  ridden, 


The  horns  are  so  tough  and  hard  that  the  natives  of 
Southern  Africa  sometimes  tip  their  spears  with  them. 
and  the  Hollanders  of  the  Cape  have  them  polished  and 
headed  with  silver  for  walking-sticks;  but  owing  to  their 
extreme  length  few  of  them  can  be  used  for  that  purpose. 
Tin'  gemshok  is  strong,  active,  and  vigorous,  and  defends 
itself  boldly  when  pressed  by  the  hunter  by  striking  vio- 
lently right  and  left  with  its  horns. 

It  is  said  that  even  the  lion  dreads  an  encounter  with 
it,  and  never  ventures  to  attack  it  unless  compelled  by 
hunger,  while  the  leopard  usually  meets  with  death  if  it  is 
so  daring  as  to  measure  strength  with  the  onyx-antelope. 

( 'aptain  Harris,  one  of  the  few  hunters  who  has  pur- 
sued this  animal  with  any  degree  of  success,  relates  the 
following  story  of  his  chase  after  an  onyx-antelope. 


and  the  anxious  hunter  could  see  that  his  game  faltered, 
while  the  fast-darkening  coat  of  the  animal  told  of  the 
perspiration  forced  out  by  the  great  effort  it  was  making. 
But  the  Captain's  horse  was  in  nearly  as  exhausted  a  con- 
dition as  the  gemsbok,  and  its  rider  could  hope  to  force 
him  ahead  but  a  short  time  longer. 

"We  continued  to  leave  the  ground  behind  us,  clear- 
ing stones,  ravines,  and  bushes,  without  swerving  one- 
inch  from  our  arrow-like  course.  At  length  the  tongue 
of  the  quarry  was  lolling  out,  and  his  tail  drooping  between 
his  tired  legs;  but  although  his  black  list  stripe  was  al- 
most under  my  bows,  he  was  far  fresher  than  my  blowing 
horse,  and  I  perceived,  beyond  a  shadow  of  a  doubt,  that 
another  hundred  yards  would  see  me  planted.  Taking  a 


OCTOBER  2,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


761 


AN    ENCOUNTER   BETWEEN    AN    ONYX- ANTELOPE    AND    A    LEOPARD. 


762 


IIAHPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


st  )•.  >i  ig  pull  upon  the  bridle,  therefore,  and  cramming  in  the 
rowels,  I  gained  a  few  strides  upon  the  quarry,  and,  throw- 
in  g  myself  from  the  saddle,  let  tly  1>oth  barrels  of  my  rifle." 

The  first  ball  went  so  wide  of  its  mark  that  the  only 
damage  done  was  to  knock  up  the  dust  several  feet  be- 
hind the  gcmsbok:  hut  the  second  hit  him  in  the  himl- 
leg.  thoroughly  crippling  him. 

Captain  Harris  immediately  remounted  his  horse  to 
continue  the  pursuit,  but  the  gemsbok  rendered  such  action 
unnecessary.  Uttering  his  shrill  note  of  rage,  raising  his 
bushy  tail,  and  shaking  his  head  furiously,  he  prepared 
for  an  attack.  Lowering  his  head  between  his  fore-legs 
until  his  horns  were  pointed  directly  toward  the  hunter's 
horse,  he  darted  forward  with  even  more  swiftness  than 
lie  had  shown  during  the  flight. 

It   was   a   moment   when,    both    calmness   and   steady 
nerves  were  necessary,  or  the  hunter's  life  would  have  j 
been  sacrificed;  but  Captain  Harris  was  fortunately  well 
supplied  with  these  qualities,  and  a  ball  from  his  repeat- 
ing rifle  pierced  the  heart  of  the  onyx-antelope. 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE. 

BY  f'LEMEXT  STROM : 

A  FEW  years  ago  I  chanced  to  spend  my  summer  holi- 
days at  a,  small  fishing  village-  on  the  Bristol  Chan- 
nel.     Those  holidays  I  shall  aluays  remember  as  among 
the  pleasantest  I  ever  passed  iu  my  life. 

I  had  been  at  the  village  about  a  fortnight,  and  had  en- 
jovi'd  myself  to  the  top  of  my  bent:  every  day  and  all  day 
I  was  as  happy  as  I  could  possibly  wish  to  be.  I  made 
friends  with  an  old  fisherman,  who  used  to  take  me  out  to 
the  fishing,  and  allowed  me  to  have  that  pleasure  for  no- 
thing, in  consideration  of  my  making  myself  useful  to 
him.  In  other  words,  I  tugged  at  the  oars  when  the  wind 
was  against  us,  and  hauled  on  the  sheets  and  halyards 
when  we  could  work  the  clumsy  old  tub  under  sail.  I 
bailed  her  out  if  we  shipped  water,  baited  and  watched  the 
lines,  and  often  lent  a  hand  to  swab  her  out  when  the  day's 
work  was  finished.  This  might  seem  hard  work  to  some 
people,  but  I  considered  that  I  was  more  than  paid  by  the 
happy  hours  I  spent  dancing  over  the  blue  waters  of  the 
Channel,  and  breathing  the  fresh  sea-air. 

One  day  we  had  been  out  as  usual,  and  were  slowly 
beating  back  to  the  harbor,  when  I  chanced  to  make  some 
remark  to  old  Bill,  the  boatman,  about  the  vast  white 
chalk  clitt'  which  rises  abruptly  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
little  town,  and  is  popularly  known  in  the  neighborhood 
as  "King  George's  Cliff."  Why  it  is  so  called  I  never 
quite  made  out.  but  probably  one  of  the  monarchs  of  that 
name  either  ascended  or  admired  it  at  some  time,  or  at  all 
events  was  supposed  to  have  done  so. 

Imagine  a  huge,  white,  and  apparently  perpendicular 
cliff,  towering  straight  up  from  the  sea  to  an  enormous 
height,  and  dwarfing  by  comparison  the  other  cliffs  which 
stretch  far  on  either  side  along  the  coast.  At  its  base  the 
sea  pours  foaming  over  the  rocks  at  high  water,  and  leaves 
but  a  narrow  strip  of  shingle  when  the  tide  is  out.  The 
face  of  the  cliff  is  of  the  whitest  chalk  imaginable,  mak- 
ing the  shadows  thrown  by  the  irregularities  of  its  surface 
seem  all  the  darker  by  the  contrast. 

As  I  gazed,  not  without  a  feeling  of  awe,  at  the  scene 
presented  by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  striking  the 
broad  face  of  the  cliff,  and  throwing  a  rosy  hue  over  its 
frowning  surface.  I  remarked  to  my  friend  Bill,  "Did  any 
one  ever  climb  up  it,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Ay,"  answered  Bill ;  "more  than  one  has  managed  it, 
and  a  pretty  tough  job  they  found  it.  But  for  one  who 
has  got  to  the  top,  twenty  have  never  got  more  than  half- 
way, and  have  been  glad  to  get  down  again  without  broken 
bones." 

"Have  there  been  any  accidents,  then  ;"  I  inquired,  as 


the  awful  possibility  of  a  fall  from  such  a  height  occurred 
to  me. 

"Oh  yes;  there  have  been  some  ugly  falls  there  be- 
fore now,  and  more  than  one  life  lost.  If  you  will  just 
jump  forward  and  handle  that  jib  when  she  goes  about. 
I'll  spin  you  a  bit  of  a  yarn  about  that  cliff." 

I  jumped  into  the  bows  as  directed,  loosed  the  jib-sheet, 
shifted  it  as  soon  as  Bill  had  yawed  her  head  round,  and. 
having  made  all  fast  again,  came  aft  to  hear  the  story. 
Leaving  out  the  many  nautical  and  other  odd  terms  used 
by  the  old  man.  it  ran  thus: 

About  fifteen  years  ago.  when  I  was  much  more  active 
than  I  am  now.  I  happened  to  be  out  in  my  small  pleasure- 
boat  with  two  ladies,  who  wanted  to  have  a  row.  a.-,  it  was 
a  tine  day.  and  the  sea  as  smooth  as  glass.  We  had  been 
out  about  an  hour.  I  should  say.  and  were  just  pulling  in 
toward  the  landing-stairs,  when  one  of  the  ladies,  who  I 
judged  to  be  the  daughter  of  the  other,  suddenly  said, 
"Why.  there  is  somebody  right  up  on  the  cliff.  Ho\v 
ever  did  lie  get  there  :" 

I  turned  round  and  took  a  look;  and  sure  enough  1 
could  see  a  black  figure  more  than  half-way  up  to  the  top, 
and  moving  very  slowly  upward  from  time  to  time.  Then 
be  -eemed  to  come  to  a  full  stop,  anil  remained  quite  still. 
The  younger  lad\  gpl  out  an  opera-glass  she  had  brought 
with  her.  and  directed  it  toward  the  figure.  In  another 
minute  she  turned  as  white  a.s  death,  ami  gasped  out: 

"(Ih!  what  will  become  of  him!  It  is  Fred,  my  bro- 
ther!" 

"  I  .end  me  your  glass,  miss."  said  I.  "  for  it  strikes  me 
that  he  is  in  difficulties.  \\  hoever  lie  is." 

She  handed  me  the  glass  at  once,  saying.  "Can  you 
see  if  lie  is  a  young  man  with  a  white  straw  hat  '" 

A  glance  convinced  me  thai  he  had  got  a  straw  hat, 
with  one  of  those  India  muslin  veils  tied  round  it.  and 
also  that  lie  was  in  a  position  of  great  danger. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  be  lost  in  giving  an  alarm, 
and  endeavoring  to  procure  aid.  for  the  young  man  ap- 
peared to  be  somehow  lixed  on  the  face  of  the  dill',  as 
though  he  could  neither  move  upward  nor  downward, 
and  I  knew  well  that  the  soft  and  treacherous  nature  of 
the  chalk  rendered  it  highly  dangerous  to  stay  long  in 
any  one  spot. 

( 'autioning  the  ladies  to  sit  still,  I  seized  the  sculls,  and 
pulled  at  racing  pace  for  the  shore,  and  soon  ran  the  boat 
on  to  the  shingle  beach.  As  luck  would  have  it.  there 
happened  to  be  two  of  the  coast  guard  on  the  beadi,  who, 
seeing  me  pulling  so  hard,  and  jumping  ashore  in  such  a 
hurry,  ran  down  to  know  what  the  matter  was.  In  few 
words  I  told  them  that  a  gentleman  was  up  the  cliff  and 
in  danger,  and  we  at  once  decided  that  the  only  way  in 
which  aid  could  be  given  would  be  by  lowering  a  rope 
from  the  top,  and  hauling  him  up.  <  )ne  of  the  coast-guard 
ran  to  one  of  the  beach  huts  close  by,  in  which  the  men 
store  the  spare  tackle  belonging  to  the  big  fishing-boats, 
and  he  soon  returned  with  the  news  that  there  was  a  sei 
of  main-halyards  belonging  to  the  Foam,  the  biggest  boat 
out  of  the  harbor,  lying  in  the  hut.  In  a  very  short  time. 
we  had  got  the  rope  out.  and  were  carrying  it  up  the  steep 
foot-path  that  leads  from  the  beach  to  the  top  of  the  dill'. 

My  word,  but  that  was  a  hard  bit  to  do  !  Before  we  were 
half-way  up  my  heart  was  going  like  a  sledge-hammer, 
and  the  veins  in  my  forehead  felt  as  if  they  would  burst 
with  every  step  I  took.  It  is  pretty  much  of  a  breather  a  I, 
any  time,  is  that  path  from  the  beach;  but  when  a  man 
goes  up  at  a  run,  and  helps  carry  a  heavy  coil  of  rope 
into  the  bargain,  it  is  about  as  stiff  a  job  as  ever  1  came 
across. 

\Ydl.  when  we  \\eiv  about  three  parts  of  the  way  up, 
one  of  the  coast-guard  sings  out : 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,  mates.  Let  us  get  a  breath  before 
we  goes  on." 


2 


EARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


763 


"With  lliiit  \\e-all  pulled  up.  and  stood  gulping  for  breath. 

win •!!  a  lady's  voice  close  I "'lii lid  us  cried  : 

"  (to  on  I    yo  on  !      There  is  mil  a  11 101 1 M •!! I   to  In-  lust  :" 
Sure  enough  it  was  tin-  yoiniir  lad y  wlio  liad  lii-cn  in  my 

lioat.  and  who  liad  run  ii|i  afti-r  us  all  tin-  way.      She  was 

only  a  slim,  slight  little  thing,  and  how  ever  she  managed 
lo  keep  up  with   us   I   can'l    think:  but   there  she  stood, 

wringing   hi-i-  hands,  .-mil   begging   us   to  y in    a   way 

that   wi-nt  to  my  In-art. 

So  oil'  we  started  ayain.  and  toiled  upuard:  not  ipiite 
SO  quick  as  before,  may  lie.  I  ml  still  upward  and  onward. 

ll  was  a  dreadful  rliinh.  hut  at  last  m-  reached  the  top. 
Then  we  seemed  to  yet  new  energy  and  life,  and  we  ran 
toward  the  pi.int  \\hieli  project-,  furthest  to  seaward,  and 
iimler  \\  liieh  \ve  knew  the  lad  was.  or  had  heen. 

This  extreme  end  reached.  \\e  all  tinny  ourselves  full 
length  on  the  turf  and  '  iane<l  our  necks  over  to  try  and 
see  if  lie  was  still  there'. 

At    lirst   I  tl yhl   !M-  was  yone.  and  a  sickenmy  fee-liny 

came  over   me  as   I    reali/ed  the-   truly   fearful    nature  of  a 
slip  dov  n  such  a  precipice. 

I'.ut  in  another  moment  I  was  n-  assured  b\  a  voice  pro- 
ceediny  from  immcdiali-ly  In-low  me. 

"  I  lelln  !      Is  any  one  up  I  here  |" 

"  Ay.  ay.  sir."   1   sang  out.        "It    is  all    riyht    if  you  en 
hold  on  f.  ii-  a  Few    miniilc-.s 

'•  Well,  look   sharp,  and    IOY  er   a   rope,  will  you  '."  • 
the  voice.       "  I  can't   liudye  hand  or  fool,  and  the  chalk  is 
lieyinniny  to  yivc  \\  a\  ." 

As  I  c  In-ccic.  |  my  eyes  to  the  spo<  whence  the  sound  pro- 
ceeded. I  s:i\\  the  Mutter  of  siimethiny  while-,  and  which 
turned  out  to  he  the  loose  end  of  the  veil  he  had  1 

round  his  hat,  twenty  or  thirty  feel  In-low  us.     Tin-  young 

lady  saw  it  too.  and  cried  out  : 

"  Fifty  pounds  to  the  man  who  ym-s  down  and  brings 
him  up!" 

Well,  il  miyht  have  been  the  money,  or  it  miyhl  nol. 
hut  I  did  not  take  lony  to  olVer  to  have  a  try.  So  we 
made  a  hiy  bight  in  the  end  of  the  pope,  and  put  a  kiml 
in-  two  above  that,  and  over  I  went  :  and  if  my  heart  had 
beat  fast  coming  up  that  hill.  I  can  swear  it  \\c-nt  pn-tly 
near  staniliny  still  u  hen  I  found  nnsdf  lianyiny  on  to 
that  rope-,  and  daiiciny  on  nothing,  SO  I"  speak. 

It   was  the  most  awful  sensation   I  ever  e\  pcrie-nccd. 

For  one'  moment  a  sick,  giddy  fee-liny  came-  over  me, 
and  1  felt  an  almost  irresistible  impulse'  to  let  yo  my  hold 
and  fall  headlong  to  the  rocks  below.  Hut  that  passe-d  oil' 
pretty  sen  HI.  and  as  the  two  men  above  let  me  gently  down, 
I  beyan  to  wonder  how  ever  I  lie -\  would  manage  to  haul 
up  the-  double  \\eiylit  when  1  had  got  hold  of  the  lad. 

This  had  not  occurred  to  us  in  the  hurry  of  tin'  moment. 
and  I  had  gone  over  without  thinking  much  about  how  I 
was  to  yet  buck. 

.1  list  then  the  lad  below  culled  mil. 

"Look  sharp,  or  I  shall  be  gone!"  and  there  seemed  al- 
most a  wail  of  despair  in  the  words. 

In  another  moment  I  was  he-side  him.  and  had  sung 
out  to  the  men  above  to  cease  lowering.  His  position  was 
indeed  a  perilous  one.  He  had  succeeded  in  getting  up  so 
far  as  that  by  scooping  out  footsteps  in  the  chalk  with 
a  biy  clasp-knife  which  was  secured  to  his  wrist  by  a 
cord.  But  when  he  got  to  where  1  found  him  he  had  man- 
aged to  place  himself  in  such  a  position  that  he  could  not 
leave  go  with  either  hand,  and  consequently  could  not  cut 
another  step.  Having  cut  the  last  hole  too  far  from  the 
one  preceding  it,  he  was  stretched  out  on  the  face  of  the 
cliff  with  his  hands  in  the  holes  lie  had  made,  and  his  toes 
re-sting  on  a  projecting  stone.  If  that  stone  had  given 
way  he  would  have  been  left  hanging  on  by  his  hands 
only,  and  you  may  imagine  how  long  he  could  stay  like 
that. 

As  I  looked  round  for  something  to  hold  oil  to  while  he 
was  being  pulled  up,  my  eye  fell  on  a  good-sized  bit  of 


stone'  that  projected  some  two  Feel  outward.  This  was 
IML:  enough  for  me-  to  claw  on  to  for  live  minutes,  but  the' 
1 1  in  -si  ji  in  remained  as  to  whether  it  would  bear  my  weight. 
1  swung  myself  toward  it.  and  was  soon  satislied  that  it 
would  hold  me  safely.  Haviny  managed  with  some  dif- 
liculty  to  yet  astride  the  stone  with  my  back  to  the  dill'. 
1  lowered  the  rope  until  the-  lud  be-low  me  could  yet,  his 
foot  into  the  bight  at  the  end.  As  soon  as  he  felt  his  foot 
Secure  he-  let  yo  the-  dill'  and  yrasped  tin-  rope-,  and  was 
--Miii  suiiiyiny  where  I  had  been  a  moment  before. 

Tlie-n  1  shouted  up  to  the  men  to  haul  on  the  rope,  and 
I  In  rescued  lad  was  ilrayyed  slowly  up  past  me,  and  1  was 
alone-. 

1  suppose  I  could  not  have-  spent  live  minutes  on  that 
stone-,  bill  it  seemed  a  life-lime.  Every  faculty  was  sharp- 
ened, and  everj  feeling  intensified  by  the  situation  I  was 
in.  Tin-  ticking  of  my  old  silver  watch  sounded  as  loud  as 

a  church  clock,  and  the  cry  of  the  sea-birds  far  below  came 

up  as  shrilly  as  though  lln-\    \\c-rc-  close  to  my  ear.      Then 

i  I  Mime,  detached  by  the  friction  of  the  rope  ;;l,,,ve. 

fell  pasl   me  and  bounded  out  of  siyht.  and  1  seemed  to  si  6 

headlong   after   it     until    1    was  smashed    lo 

atoms  on  the-  cruel  rocks  on  the-  beach. 

.lust  ihi-n.  luckily  for  me-,  something  touched  me 
on  thi>  shoulder.  Turning  my  head.  I  saw  that  il  was 
the  empty  bight  of  the-  rope  which  was  being  let  do\\  n 
for  mi-.  I  soon  hail  my  fool  in  it,  and  in  two  minutes 

re  I  u  as  scrambling  over  the  top  of  the  dill',  safe  once 

more. 

The  lirst  thing  that  struck  me- as  I  clambered  over  on 
lo  the  yi-ass  uas  that  the  young  lady  was  in  a  dead  faint, 
her  head  supported  by  the  lud  we  had  just  rescued.  She- 
had  he-Id  up  bravely  while  the  danger  lasted,  but  now 
that  it  \\  us  over  she  had  naturally  given  way  a  bit. 

I '.ut  my  attention  was  soon  diverted  from  her  by  one  of 
the  men  u  ho  had  hauled  us  up.  and  who  now  advanced 

with  the  rope-  in  his  band, saying: 

"  I k  here.  Mill.  (  die  strand  gone,  and  another  go- 

ing.  Another  minute,  male,  and  you  would  have  never 
handled  an  oar  again." 

At  lirst  1  scarcely  understood  his  meaning;  then,  as  I 
looked  at  the  portion  of  the  rope  he  was  pointing  to,  I 
began  to  n-uli/.e  tin-  peril  1  had  been  in.  The  rope  had 
cut  on  some  sharp  stone-,  and  was  more  than  half  through. 
Thus  when  I  \\as  being  linally  bullied  up  I  was  really 
in  far  greater  danger  than  at  any  time  before.  However, 
as  it  did  hold  on  until  I  was  landed,  it  did  not  much 
matter;  but  I  never  look  at,  that  cliff  without  thinking 
about  the-  time  1  was  so  near  coming  down  it  with  a  run. 
and  when  there  was  only  a  half-broken  rope  between  me 
and  a  fall  on  those  sharp  rocks.  The  family  came  down 
very  handsomely  when  it  was  all  over.  In  fact,  I  bought 
this  boat  with  the  fifty  pounds  I  earned  over  the  job. 
But  I  wouldn't  do  it  again  for  fifty  pounds — no.  nor  lifty 
thousand,  for  that  matter. 


A   TALK   AIJOUT  COLLECTING  COINS. 

I!V   WILLIAM  C.  PRIME. 

IT  is  a  good  thing  for  a  young  person  to  give  time  and 
thought  to  making  a  collection  of  interesting  objects. 
But  if  you  collect  merely  for  the  sake  of  owning  the  ob- 
jects, or  because  you  like  to  have  tilings  which  other 
people  would  be  glad  to  have,  or  if  you  take  pride  and 
pleasure  in  your  collection  only  because  it  contains  spe- 
cimens which  are  very  rare  and  difficult  to  find,  you  are 
making  a  mistake,  and  losing  the  good  of  it. 

Bear  in  mind  always  that  each  object  in  your  collection 
is  like  the  page  of  a  book,  that  it  can  tell  a  story,  can  re- 
late facts  which  are  worth  your  knowing.  Get  from  each 
specimen  in  your  collection  all  the  story  it  can  tell  you. 
Talk  to  it,  and  ask  it  questions,  and  get  all  the  help  you 


764 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FIG.  1. 


can  from  books  to  under- 
stand what  it  would  say  to 
you  if  it  could  speak  and 
tell  its  story.     In  this  way 
you  will   find   that   your 
cabinet  or  your  little  box 
of  objects  is  a  source  of 
great  interest,  and   every 
separate  object  will  seem  to  you  as  precious  as  every  other. 
If  you  have  not  thought  of  coins  as  books,  let  me  show 
you  what  I  mean,  and  how  you  should  treat  your  collec- 
tion of  coins,  if  you  are  making  one. 

We  will  suppose  you  have  just  begun  to  gather  coins, 
and  have  not  yet  any  very  definite  idea  of  what  kind  of  a 
collection  you  will  make,  but  you  have  a  few  coins  of 
your  own  country  to  begin  with.  Take  an  American 
quarter-dollar  in  your  hand,  and  see  how  much  you  can 
tell  your  friends  about  it.  Among  the  very  first  questions 
you  must  answer  are  these :  What  is  a  coin  ?  why  were 
coins  first  made  ?  when  were  they  first  made  ?  why  are 
they  made  of  certain  metals  ?  why  do  they  always  or 
so  often  have  on  them  devices,  heads  of  men,  eagles, 
images  of  Liberty,  and  other  figures  ? 

Now  this  American  quarter-dollar  should  answer  all 
these  questions,  so  that  when  you  look  at  it  you  will  read 
at  a  glance  the  history  of  the  art  of  coinage.  In  the  very 
oldest  ages  of  which  we  know  anything  men  were  in  the 
habit  of  using  seals  with  which  to  stamp  devices  in  soft 
clay  or  wax.  It  has  always  been  the  custom  among  civ- 
ilized people  to  use  a  seal  in  making  important  contracts. 
A  man's  seal  represented  the 
man.  If  the  seal  was  affixed 
to  a  promise,  it  was  evidence 
of  the  personal  promise  of  the 
owner  of  the  seal. 

The  seal  was  usually  made 
of  stone  or  metal,  on  which  the 
engraver  cut  whatever  the  own- 
er selected  as  his  peculiar  de- 
vice, which  was  to  be  known  always  as  his.  Kings  used 
seals  to  certify  that  decrees  and  grants  were  indeed  their 
acts.  You  will  readily  imagine  how  it  came  about  that 
certain  devices  were  adopted  by  kings,  and  by  cities  and 
governments,  to  be  engraved  on  their  seals. 

Now  it  is  only  about  twenty-seven  hundred  years  since 
coin  was  first  known.  Before  that  date  men  traded  one 
thing  for  another.  But  when  the  things  were  not  of 
equal  value,  the  balance  must  be  made  up  of  something 
which  all  men  would  be  willing  to  take.  Gold  and  silver 
have  in  all  ages  been  metals  which  men  were  thus  willing 
to  take,  and  if  a  man  does  not  want  to  keep  gold  and  sil- 
ver he  can  always  find  plenty  of  men  who  want  it,  and 
will  give  him  for  it  something  which  he  wants.  You 
may  do  well  to  remember  that  when  you  buy  a  pair  of 
mittens  for  a  quarter-dollar  the  merchant  luiys  the. quar- 
ter-dollar from  you.  He  sells  you  mittens  because  he 
wants  to  buy  just  so  much  silver  for  them. 

Men  are  always  ready  to  buy  gold  and  silver,  and  the 
price  of  gold  and  silver,  like  the  price  of  grain  and  cotton, 
varies  according  to  whether  they  are  scarce  or  plenty. 
They  are  much  more  plenty  in  our  days  than  they  were 


in  ancient  times.  In  those  days  an  ounce  of  gold  would 
be  easily  exchanged  for  a  vastly  larger  quantity  of  grain 
or  wool,  food  or  clothing,  than  now. 

Men  then  weighed  out  the  gold  or  silver  when  they 
traded.  It  was  sometimes  beaten  or  melted,  and  cast  into 
ri n us,  as  a  convenient  form  of  carrying,  but  in  a  trade 
between  men  they  always  used  the  scales  and  weighed  the 
metal. 

About  eight  hundred  years  before  Christ,  when  com- 
merce had  become  established  on  the  eastern  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  some  people  began  to  realize  that  it 
would  be  very  convenient  to  have  gold  and  silver  in 
lumps  of  certain  weight,  which  men  could  use  in  trade 
without  the  bother  of  weighing 
them.  We  do  not  know  cer- 
tainly when  or  where  this  idea 
was  lirst  put  into  actual  use, 
but  the  oldest  coins  we  have 
found  are  either  those  of  Mile- 
tus, a  city  of  Asia  Minor,  or 
those  of  Sardis,  another  city  in 
Asia  Minor. 

It  is  probable  that  the  wide- 
awake merchants  of  Miletus 
invented  coinage.  What  they 
wanted  was  precious  metal  in 

pieces  of  uniform  weight,  with  a  certificate  on  each  piece 
that  could  be  accepted.  Naturally  the  government  cer- 
tificate would  be  most  generally  accepted,  and  the  cer- 
tificate could  be  put  on  like  the  stamp  of  a  seal  on  wax 
or  clay.  So  a  seal-engraver  was  employed  to  engrave  a 
seal  in  iron  or  bronze  or  some  hard  substance  (Fig.  1), 
and  it  was  probably  in  iron  that  he  did  it. 

The  device  engraved  was  a  lion's  head.  It  was  cut  in 
the  iron  so  that  a  lump  of  metal  could  be  dropped  in  it, 
and  then  with  a  punch  hammered  in  until  it  took  the  im- 
pression of  the  lion's  head.  This  was  a  very  rude  process. 
The  metal  then  used  was  a  mixture  of  gold  and  silver, 
which  we  call  electron.  The  coin  was  not  round  nor  regu- 
lar in  shape.  It  looked  like  a  rude  lump  of  metal,  with 
the  lion's  head  on  one  side,  and  the  rough  dent  made  by 
the  punch  on  the  other  side. 

But  it  served  its  purpose,  and  soon  all  around  the  East- 
ern Mediterranean  people  knew  these  pieces  of  electron, 


FIG.  4. 


FIG.  3. 


I  and  accepted  them  as  so  much  precious  metal,  because  they 
|  bore  the  seal  stamp  of  Miletus.  This  city  and  many  oth- 
ers were  then  what  we  call  autonomous;  that  is,  they 
were  self-governing,  independent  cities.  Others  soon 
copied  the  new  custom  or  invention,  and  made  coins  with 
their  seal  stamps.  ^Egiiia  stamped  the  coins  with  her  em- 
blem, the  tortoise.  Here  is  a  drachma  (Fig.  2),  a  silver  coin 
of  JSgina,  probably  the  first  silver  coin  ever  made.  Agri- 
gentum  stamped  coins  witli  the  crab;  Metapoiitum  with  a 
sheaf  of  wheat;  Athens  with  an  owl ;  Bosotia  with  a  shield ; 
and  just  so,  and  for  the  same  reason,  the  United  States 
stamped  your  quarter-dollar  with  an  eagle.  The  stamp  is 
the  certificate  of  the  government  that  this  is  silver  of  the 
weight  and  fineness  which  the  law  says  shall  constitute  a 
quarter-dollar. 

The  value  of  the  coin  always  and  everywhere  consists 
in  the  quantity  and  quality  of  the  metal.     A  dollar  is 


Ol'TitHER  2.  188S. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


765 


only  a  name;  the  government  says  by  statute  that  it  shall 
consist  of  so  many  grains  and  pennyweights  of  gold  or  of 
silver  of  a  specified  degree  of  fineness.  The  government 
may  and  sometimes  does  change  the  statute,  and  increases 
or  lessens  the  weight  or  the  standard  fineness  of  metal 
making  its  coins.  But  the  weight  and  quality  of  the 
metal  always  make  the  value,  and  in  large  transactions 
in  gold  it  is  still  and  always  will  be  customary  to  weigh 
the  coin. 

In  Eastern  countries  the  natives  commonly  weigh  even 
single  gold  coins  before  taking  them  in  trade.  Your 
quarter-dollar  has  perhaps  a  milled  edge.  That  is  to  pre- 
vent dishonest  persons  from  cutting  or  filing  silver  off 
from  it  and  reducing  its  weight. 

The  art,  which  was  at  first  rude,  improved  rapidly,  and 
very  beautiful  coins  were  made,  especially  in  Greek 
cities.  In  old  days,  however,  men  did  not  carry  coins 
around  in  their  pockets  as  much  as  we  do,  and  they  were 
not  so  apt  to  be  rubbed  and  worn.  This,  of  course,  decreases 
the  weight  and  value.  In  our  time  coins  are  made  with 
designs  in  low  relief,  and  engraved  so  that  heavy  parts  of 
a  design  stand  up  and  protect  the  lighter  lines  from  rub-  I 
bing.  But  in  old  coins  we  find  the  designs  standing  out 
in  high  relief. 

Here  is  a  silver  coin  of  Mithridates,  King  of  Pontus 
(Fig.  .3),  about  B.C.  89,  which  will  show  you  the  style  of 
many  fine  ancient  coins ;  and  another  of  Cleopatra,  Queen 
of  Egypt  (Fig.  -t).  which  will  give  you  as  good  an  idea  of 
that  celebrated  lady's  face  as  you  can  possibly  have. 

No  ancient  coins  were  struck  with  a  metal  collar  around 
them  to  make  them  perfectly  round.  That  is  a  modern 
invention,  as  well  as  the  milled  edge.  We  often  find  an- 
cient counterfeit  coins.  There  have  been  bad  men  in  all 
times. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  facts  in  the  history  of  coin-mak- 
ing which  every  coin  of  every  nation  and  place  should 


suggest  to  your  mind  when  you  look  at  it.  And  you  can 
now  easily  see  how  much  more  a  coin  may  tell  you.  Ev 
erv  distinct  coin  has  a  different  story  to  tell  you.  A  cent 
of  1881  tells  something  quite  different  from  a  cent  of  1N71 
or  1861.  I  advise  you  therefore  to  form  a  very  intimate 
acquaintance  with  each  separate  coin  in  your  collection, 
and  consult  it  till  you  know  all  it  can  tell  you. 

It  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  to  feel  ashamed  to  show 
any  one  a  coin  in  your  collection  about  which  you  have 
not  at  least  fairly  tried  to  learn  all  that  can  be  told.  If 
some  one  has  given  you  a  denarius  of  the  Emperor  Tibe- 
rius, you  ought  at  least  to  learn  who  and  what  he  was, 
when  and  where  he  was  Imperator,  and  connect  the  coin 
in  your  mind  with  some  of  the  important  events  in  the 
history  of  the  world  which  occurred  in  his  time.  There 
would  perhaps  be  on  one  side  of  the  coin  a  head  of  the 
Emperor,  and  on  the  other  a  figure  of  some  deity  of  the 
Romans.  You  should  try  to  learn  what  the  deity  was, 
and  be  able  to  describe  the  coin  and  explain  it  to  your 
friends. 

There  is  ample  scope  for  the  young  numismatist  in  col- 
lecting coins  of  his  own  country  and  attaching  to  them 
events  and  persons  in  history.  Here  is  a  copper  coin  (Fig. 
o)  which  perhaps  you  have  in  your  collection.  It  was  the 
first  issue  of  the  Mint  of  the  United  States,  by  resolution 
of  Congress,  July  6,  1787.  I  do  not  know  of  any  evi- 
dence that  Franklin  had  anything  to  do  with  its  design, 
but  from  the  motto,  which  sounds  like  some  of  his  say- 
ings, it  has  gotten  with  some  persons  the  name  Franklin 
copper.  It  is  a  first-rate  coin  for  you  to  study,  because  it 
tells  of  the  prosperity  of  your  country,  of  the  condition  of 
the  people,  and  their  arts,  and  their  character.  Nor  will 
the  words  that  are  on  it,  and  the  pictures  or  designs,  fail 
to  repay  your  study.  In  fact,  I  don't  know  any  coin 
which  offers  a  better  beginning  for  the  young  American 
numismatist. 


A    SCRUB-RACE. 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


I  WISH  my  little  correspondents  to  try  thru1 
skill  in  writing  a  letter  of  two  hundred  words, 
or  about  twenty  lines,  which  shall  contain  tin' 
following  words :  sumac,  cheerful,  chesi.-its,  ap- 
ples, ivy,  willing,  reckless,  dropping,  mother,  sun- 
shine. "Let  me  see  which  of  you  will  succeed 
best  in  weaving  these  words  prettily  into  an  In- 
dian-summer letter  to  tin-  Post-office  Box.  Please 
write  with  black  ink  on  one  side  only  of  the  pa- 
per. Do  you  know  that  I  was  quite  dismayed 
the  other  day  when  one  of  my  girl  friends  showed 
me  a  letter  she  had  written  with  white  ink  on 
chocolate-colored  paper?  It  was  very  dazzling, 
but  very  hard  to  read,  and  as  the  great  object, 
after  all,  in  writing,  iS'to  write  so  thai  your  letter 
may  !»•  easily  and  quickly  understood  by  the  per 
sun"  to  whom  you  send  it.  I  advised  her  to  copy 
it  in  another  style.  She  laughed  merrily,  and 
said  she  would  never— no.  never— write  to  the 
Post-office  Box  on  fanciful  paper  with  fancilnl 
ink,  or  even  with  a  pencil,  but  always  ju-i  as  I 
beg  yon  to  do.  my  girls  and  boys,  plainly  and 
carefully,  with 

Ink  as  black  as  the  wing  of  a  en  iw. 
On  paper  like  cream  or  white  as  snow. 

The  following  letter  tells  its  own  beautiful 
story  of  a  sweet  thought  gracefully  carried  into 
action : 

BANGOR,  MAINE. 

DEM:  POSTMISTRESS,— I  send  yon  this  afterm  n >u 
the  donation  of  my  Sunday-school  class  in  si. 
.1 1 ihu's  church  for  Young  People's  Cot.  The  nip 
ami  saucer  are  given  by  Harry  French  ;  the  bowl 
and  plate  by  the  following:  Frank  Gould,  Joe 
Smith  Howell  Leavitte,  Maria  Leavitte.  Edith 
Leavitte,  Bertie  Mason,  and  Freddie  Hamlin. 
They  all  wish  to  express  their  sympathy  for  the 
little  helpless  occupant  of  the  <  '<>t.  and  now  that 
a  bc'dmiing  is  once  made,  think  they  will  like  to 
send  .-oinething  often  to  cheer  her.  We  read 
HAKPKU'S  YOUNU  PEOPLE  often  in  class,  so  if  you 
will  please  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  this  in 
print,  each  donor  will  feel  delighted,  and  fully  re- 
paid for  any  self-denial  that  lie-  or  she  may  have 
practiced.  'With  kindest  regards.  F.  E.  F. 


BAMJOI:,  Mo\v. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  I  take  1 1  .\  n- 
PER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  and  like  to  read  it.  very 
much  I  thought  I  would  write  you  a  letter  to- 
day, as  school  will  begin  next  week,  and  then  I 
shall  not  have  so  much  time.  We  have-  had  a 
nice  long  vacation,  and  I  have  had  a  jolly  time 
with  my  sister  and  cousins.  Now  my  sister  Alice 
has  gone  with  one  of  my  aunties  to  Southern 
<'a]il'orida  to  he  with  my  papa,  who  is  staying 
there  because  he  is  an  invalid.  They  got  to  sail 
Diego  a  week  ago  to-night,  and  that  is  the  place 
where  papa  is.  My  sister  kept  a  journal  as  she 
rode  along  in  the  cars.  I  hope  she  will  send  it 
to  me  to  read.  My  mamma  died  when  1  was  a 
little  liny  baby.  I  wish  I  eould  remember  her. 
I  have  got  lots  of  dollies.  The  prettiest  is  Pansy  : 
she  is  a  large  dolly,  with  beautiful  hair  and  pret- 
ty blue  eyes.  My  kittie's  name  is  William  Cow- 
p'er.  Wc'liave  a  little  birdie  visiting  us  now,  and 
his  name  is  Ned  :  he  sings  MTV  sweetly.  This  is 
a  beautiful  day  here  at  Bangor.  and  now  1  HUM 
close  and  go  out  to  play  with  my  friend  Kdna. 

GUACIE. 


FAr.MI\..TI>\.    Ml\M-.r.|  ,. 

I  am  a  littl  grirl  eight  years  old.  My  grandpa 
had  a  Manx  k .  -n  once.  Manx  cats  come  from 
the  Isle  of  Man.  without  any  tails,  and  never  have 
any.  \Ve  come  in  to  the  country  in  the  summer. 
Tin  re  are  a  great  many  birds  here.  Among  them 
i-  tin  butcher-bird,  which  lives  on  other  birds. 
It  killed  three  of  grandpa's  birds.  They  were  in 
a  eage  banging  outside  the  house,  and  it  pulled 
I  heir  heads  right  off  with  its  bill.  Grandpa  hung 
out  a  trap-cage,  and  caught  it.  Its  color  is  French 
gray,  with  black  stripes  on  its  head,  and  black 
wings.  A  few  moments  ago  we  found  a  ne-l  oi 
four  little  dormice  of  a.  buckskin  color.  I  like 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much.  I  have  a  baby  sister, 
and  a  brother  six' years  old,  and  a  pet  kitten 
named  Dot.  JENNY  G.  W. 


the  raisins,  and  as  "  the  proof  of  the  pudding  is 
the  eating."  it  must  have  been  good,  for  every 
one  was  helped  twice. 

I  read  lately  in  a  paper  a  way  I o  preserve  flow- 
er- I  iv  dipping  them  into  a  weak  solution  ot  gum- 
shellac  which  forms  a  coaling  over  them,  and 
so  excludes  the  air.  Perhaps  some  ot  yourread- 
ers  may  like  to  try  it.  I  am  afraid  my  letter  is 
too  long  but  I  would  like  to  .-end  a  receipt  tor 
drop  biscuit,  which  we  like.-  very  much  : 

Duoi-  i;i-e,-rr.-0ne  quart  of  flour,  two  tea- 
spoonfuls  of  baking-powder,  and  a  pmeh  ol  salt  : 
milk  enough  to  make  a  batter  as  thick  as  can  be 
stirred  with  a  spoon;  drop  from  the  spoon  into 
a  pan.  and  bake  quickly.  MINNIE  C.  W. 

LULU  AND  THE  RABBIT. 
\  dear  little  rabbit,  once  lived  in  the  clover. 
So  happy  and  careless  he  roamed  the  field  over. 
Till  the  farm  boys  came  there,  and  poor  Bunny 

" See  there!  boys !  a  rabbit:  let's  catch  him:" 

they  cried. 

oh  '  t lie  horror  and  fear  in  that  poor  little  breast, 
is  panting  he  speeds  toward  his  sheltering 
But  so  closely  they  follow,  they  follow  so  fast, 
T,,,,  weary  to  struggle,  he's  captured  at  last. 

Now  little  maid  Lulu  was  pas-dug  that   way. 
And.  pleading,  she  said.   "Let  me  have  him,  I 

In  her  apron  they  laid  him,  and  said.  "  Take  him 

home. 
And  we'll  make  you  a  cage  when  our  day's  w  .  irk 

is  di  me." 
But  the  shy,  frightened  eyes  and  the  fast -beating 

heart 

Moved  Lulu  to  pity  and  to  tale  Bunny's  pan  ; 
••  No  n. i.  I  won't  keep  you  a  prisoner,'  she  said  : 
"Go  bark  to  your  home,  and  be  happy  instead. 

So.  kissing  him  softly  and  stroking  him  over. 
she  -et  him  down  free  in  the  midst  of  the  clover. 
The  field-lily  nodded  her  pretty  crowned  head. 
The  daisy's  white  blossom  smiled  tip  from  its 

bed, 
While  the  posies  and  grasses,  all  tangled  and 

Were  ela-i'ing  and  kissing  the  little  bare  feet. 
And  the  breezes  that  lifted  each  bonny  brown 

Whispered  sweetly  and  softly.  "Well  done,  little 
girl."  n.  L.  T. 

Tl    SC01    A,    MU-Nl.iAS. 

This  true  story,  so  daintily  told  in  rhyme,  is 
about  a  little  lover  of  the  Post-office  Box      We 
are  glad  that  Lulu  was  so  kind  to  the  poor  fright- 
ened rabbit.     So  you  would  have  been, J 
Man  .  Daisy,  and  Susie,  would  yon  not? 

A  BEAUTIFUL  INCIDENT. 
A  very  pretty  little  incident  came  to  my  notice 
to-day. \\  hieh  occurred  ill  a  country  place  of  our 
Male  There  lives  there  a  lit  tie  boy  named  Ralph, 
about  nine  years  oi  age,  who  i-  extremely  fond 
of  pets.  and.  as  a  consequence,  they  become  much 
at  i  a  el ii  il  i  o  him.  Some  time  since  his  fat  her  sold 
bis  farm  and  stock,  preparatory  to  changing  bis 
place  of  residence.  A  flock  of  sheep  was  bought 
by  a  neighbor,  and  driven  to  its  new  owner's 
tield.  l',y  some  mischance  a  fence  was  broken 
down,  and  some  sheep  belonging  to  another 
neighbor,  whom  we  will  call  Mr.  Smilh.  bec;iiMi 
mixed  with  those  that  bad  belonged  to  Ralph's 
fat  her.  Mr.  Smith,  not  a  very  scrupulous  man.  in 
separating  the  flocks  claimed  a  number  that  did 
not  belong  to  him.  There  seemed  no  way  of 
proving  his  wrong-doing,  and  a  lawsuit  followed. 
When  little  Ralph  was  subpoenaed  to  give  evi- 
dence be  went  into  the  field  where  the  two  Hocks 
wen-  early  one  morning,  and  calling  by  the  na  mc- 
lie  had  given  them  when  his  father's  proper 
tv.  e\ery  sheep  came  to  him.  while  Mr.  Smith's, 
Irighiened  by  his  voice,  ran  as  far  away  as  they 
c<  -utd  go — a  pretty  symbol  of  the  good  Shepherd, 
whose  sheep  know  Him.  E.  W. 


street,  and  the  cheering  as  the  Emperor  dto\e 
past  was  tremendous.  A  great  many  American 
and  English  boys  and  girls  are  at  school  in  Cas- 
sel  I  would  like  to  tell  yon  more  about  the  Wil- 
helinsh'ilie  Mountains,  and  about  the  long  walks 
we  took  in  them  and  in  the  country  about  cas- 
sel.  but  will  defer  it  until  a  future  time.  A.  C. 

"  LA  GRANGE."  PHH.AnKi.pniA,  PENNSYLVANIA. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS,— I  have  been  intruding  t» 
write  to  you  for  a  long  time,  but  have  always  de- 
ferred it, thinking  yon  have  enough  correspond- 
ents already.  I  love  to  write  letters  and  to  get 
them  and  surely  you  must  too.  or  you  wouldn't, 
be  Postmistress.  Isn't  it  lots  of  Inn  to  get  so 
many  letters  from  strange  boys  and  girls  who 
know  oi  \oii  and  like  you  so  much,  though  you 
never  heard  of  them  before?  I  have  only  one 
pet,  a  darling  big  cat.  We  are  all  fond  of  eats, 
and  always  ha\e  one  or  two  in  the1  family.  Mine 
was  named  .lack,  but  I  call  him  John,  and  he  was 
I  en  years  old  the  21st  of  last  May.  Isn't  that  old 
for  a  cat  '•  My  aunt  has  a  lovely  yellow  one.  Daf- 
fy, that  shakes  hands,  and  sits  up,  and  then  jumps 
ri.'ht  o\er  her  shoulder.  When  he  was  a  kitten 
he  had  lovely  blue  eyes,  but  they  are  brown  now. 

I  have  been  staying  at  my  grandmother's  for 
the  last  month  with  my  sisters  There  is  a  love- 
Iv  dog  here.  Tarry,  that  is  my  special  favorite. 

Indeed,   lie    is    so    folld    Of   US   lie    WOIl't    RO   to    his 

real  home.  I  had  a  kitten  too.  named  Maher- 
shalal-hash -buz.  but  I  guess  the  name  was  too 
much  tor  him.  for  he  ran  away. 

I  want  to  tell  you.  dear  Postmistress,  about  a 
song  my  sisters  and  I  com  pi  ised  a  little  while  ago. 
We  had  been  sitting  at  the  piano  sin  gin  L'.  and  A., 
my  eldest  si-ter.  played  the  tune  of  "Marching 
through  Georgia."  We  none  of  us  knew  the 
words,  so  we  thought  we  would  make  some  up 
to  suit  mil-selves.  So  we  did  it,  singing  it  as  we 
went  along,  and  thought  perhaps  some  one  else 
would  like  to  sing  it.  .lust  try  it.  humming  it  to 
••  Maiehing  through  Georgia."  of  course  it  is 
rather  silly,  alter  the  style  of  " Over  the  Garden 
\\  all,"  but  I  hope  you  don't  disapprove  of  silly 
things  now  and  then.  We  are  so  much  pleased 
with  IlAliPKlt's  Yol'NG  PEOPLE,  having  taken  it 
from  the  beginning,  and  intending  to  keep  on 
taking  it  as  long  as  possible.  \\  e  got  several  ex- 
cellent receipts  out  of  it.  and  I  obtained  a  lovely 

] k.  /!,<i/  t'ti/kx,  by  publishing  an  exchange  in 

it -columns,  s,,  we  all  wish  it  long  life  and  pros- 
perity. With  love  I  will  close.  BE-.-VE  II,  s. 

This  is  the  song: 

APPLE-DUMPLINGS. 
I  stepped   inside  the  garden  gate  one  glorious 

morn  ill  May  : 
Nature  had  outdone  herself  in  making  such  a 

daj 
Lilacs,  roses,  hyacinths,  gave   forth  their   fra- 


grance gay  : 
sides, 


BALTIMORE,  MARYLAND. 

The  Post-office  Box  affords  me  a  great  (ha  I  ol 
pleasure,  and  I  think  it  is  very  interesting  and 
instructing  to  read  how  boys  and  girls  live  and 
enjoy  themselves  in  the  different  parts  of  the 
eountrv.  Some  time  ago  we  went  to  Hesse-Cas- 
sel,  in  Germany,  and  staid  there  four  years.  Cas- 
sel  is  my  mother's  birth-place,  and  all  her  rela- 
tions live  t  here.  It  is  a  beautiful  little  city,  with 
tin  \Vilhelmshohe  Mountains  on  the  west,  and 
the  little  river  Fulda  flowing  through  it.  In  the 
Wilhelnishuhe  Mountains  is  a  beautiful  chateau, 
in  which  the  Elector  of  Ilessen  hail  resided,  one 
of  whose  ancestors,  you  know,  sold  the  Hessian 
soldiers  lo  F.ngland.  And  in  this  same  chateau 
Napoleon  III  was  kept  a  prisoner  during  the  late 
Franco  -  Prussian  war.  While  we  were  in  Cas- 
sel  das  Kaiser-Maii'iver  (imperial  review)  took 
place  at  Wahern.  The  Emperor  William  and  a 
great  many  German  and  foreign  princes  assem- 
bled in  I'assel,  and  resided  at  the  chateau.  My 
broi  her  and  I  had  a  splendid  view  of  the  Emperor 
and  ail  the  prince-  as  they  were  driving  from  the 
railroad  station  to  the  chaieaii  after  the  firsl 
day's  exercises.  Crowds  lined  both  sides  ol  t  In 


Hi  sid,-.  I  smelled  apple-dumplings. 
Chorus. 

Dumplings,  dumpling. ngar.  dough,  and  spice— 

Immplings.  dumplings,  everything  so  nice  : 
Lilac-,   ro-es.    hyacinth-,    gave    forth    their    fra- 
grance gay  : 
Besides,  I  smelled  apple-dumplings. 

i  omh.gup  the  garden  path.  I  neared  the  kitchen 

ih  lor. 
caughl  a  glimpse  of  golden  curls  I  oft  had  seen 

before. 

Cook  had  gone  to  take  a  walk,  and  Mabel  had 

the  floor. 
And  she  was  making  apple-dumplings. 

i  /  '/in  -Dumplings,  etc..  repeating  last  t  wo  lines 
of  .- mil  stanza  instead  of  tirst.) 

Round  her  dainty  waist  an  apron  large  and  brown 

was  tied, 
Apples  tart  and  rosy-cheeked  in  basket  by  her 

side. 

I  longed  to  kiss  the  rolling-pin  that  by  her  hand 

w  as  plied. 

For  she  was  making  apple-dumplings, 
i  rim  —Dumplings,  etc., last  line  of  third  stanza.) 
The  verses  for  which  I  have  made  room  are 
\ir\  creditable  to  Miss  Bessie,  particularly  as  ap- 
ple dumplings  are  not  so  poetical  as  apple  blos- 
soms.   The  last  two  stanzas  were  not  exactly 
adapted  to  the  Post-office  Box,  although  a  little 
nonsense  now  and  then  makes  life  very  pleasant. 


you. 

I  live  on  the  shore  of  the  beaut  if  ul  Lake  F.lvsian. 
II  is  seven  miles  iu  length,  and  one  and  a  ball  in 
width  in  the  widest  place.  There  is  an  island  of 


OCTOBER  2,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


767 


seven  acres  in  it.  and  p»ople  come  anil  stay  and 
fish,  for  there  are  some  quiti  large  ones— nothing 

like  v-'iirs.  Sammy — hut  buffalo,  black,  and  rock 
h, i",  pickerel,  and  some  sain-. .11  put  in  by  the 
government,  and  -  <7eral  other  kinds  not  eatable. 
We  li.ivi>  ii  nice  linn-  bathing  i"  MimmcT  and 
-i.  iting  i"  winter.  My  In-other  shot  eight  wild- 
ducks  last  ^Saturday  at  thivr  shots:  )u-  is  four- 
teen, and  I  am  nine.  I  was  chopping  some  large 
lirush  I'm-  |ia|ia  la -I  We---k.  and  i-nl  my  I'm  it  with 
au  axe— the  li-fi  inn-,  mi  the  i'i  i'li'.  Tin-  cut  is 
two  and  a  half  inches  long,  but  it  is  doing  well 
I  ran  nut  sti-|i  mi  it  ye't.  I  started  to  write  last 
\vri-k  while  I  was  lyinjr  down,  lint  I  COU 
Then  iu\  sister  said  she  would  write-  it  forme. 
.My  gr:-.mlpa  and  graii'liu.i  live-  with  us  :  they  are 
verj  '  'Id.  ' "-and  pa  is  eighty-five,  and  In-  been 
Mind  T  We-iii  y--<-\  en  years;  he  '-an  not  see  mi'1 
hir.  Grandma  is  eighty,  but  quite  smart.  Please 
answer  this,  Sammy.  WILLIE  W.  SAVAGE. 


thr  rnivrr-ity  of  Kansas.  He  comes  here  to  col- 
l.rt  in-...  t  -.  and  brings  us  with  him.  I  have  tin  \ 
nine  of  the  receipts  in  Y.TN<.  PKOIM.F.  copied 
down.  I  am  going  to  Try  some  of  them  when  i 
me;  I  rant  try  them  out  here,  because  our 
little  ,-hec-t  iron  stove  won't  bake  well.  I  am 
eleven  years  old.  We  have  venison  every  day; 
w<-  have  so  much  sometimes  that  we'  have  to 
give  lots  of  it  away.  Sometimes  we-  hair  had 
four  hornrd  toads  in  a  hox.  lait  now  \ve  have 
only  three.  \Vr  havr  great  ramp  tires  every 

e\  ,-ning  I  have  ridd.  II  down  to  I  hr  Hot  Springs 
twice  I'll  iHiri-..-  I  ran  walk  ninrli  fastrr  than  a 
IIIMTO  ran  carry  me.  but  I  like  to  ride  tin  m  very 
ninrli  I  ha\r  a  lovely  little  baby  brother.  He 

;    i th-   old.  and   ran   .-it    up  al and 

en  '  a n  r  t.  .1  it  and  one  knee.     He  laughs  and 

crows  a  grrat  deal      lie  has  very  curly  hair.     I 

.  '  M-lrl  s  and  a  l>r.  it  her  hcsidrs  thr  l>a  l>\  . 

MAIIY  M   s 


SAMMV  A..— I  saw  >"iir  l.-ttrr.  and  the, light  I 
\voilld  ali-wrr  it  by  t.-lling  Veen  something  about 
tin-  coal  mines  in  this  n-gion.  A  mine  is  started 

in    thr    side    Of   a    hill,  and    goes    ill    horizontally. 

instead  of  perpendicularly,  a-  in  most  «-oal  re- 
gions. 'I'lie  main  heading  go'-s  in  generally  about 
100  feel  before  turning  a  heading ;  those  turning 

to  tin-  right  an-  called  right  s,  a  ml  th.,-e  to  the- 
left  Ir  ft  -  '['' are-  u  -ually  aboil!  four  of  eaeli. 

The  rights  and  lefts  are  then  divided  into  rooms, 
which  turn  off  tile'  same  as  Ihe  headin  •.-  In  each 
ot  these  rooms  th'-rr  an-  grnrrally  t  <,ve,  iiie-n.  e,r 
a  man  anil  his  family  of  boys  in  each.  The-  cars 

are  haule.l  by  an  c-ngii r  by  mules  from  the- 

t,,  thr  mine--,  and  thru  another  team  of 
mules  take-  them  i"  the  -id.  nark  Inside,  and 
from  there  they  are  hauled  by  single  mules  to  the 

room-    At  each  heading  there  is  a  trap-d -kept 

I-,  a  boy  called  a  trapper,  whose  business  it  is  t., 
open  aiid  shut  tin-  d"..i-  f.,r  the-  elriye'rs,  and  I" 
i  .  ' •;.  ihe  elmi'i-s  from  running  into  each  other 

h)   signaling  to  t  hrni 

In  t  he-e  mine-  \\  ••  lia  \  e  a  good   d  -al  of  pf'-t  t  \ 

pran  ','k    COal  and    -lat  r  \\  it  h    illlpri's-iellls   of  terns 

on  thrin,    [f  you  will  send  me  your  full  address, 

I  will  send  ,oll  some-  -prrintrii  - 

Then-  i-alsoa  great  deal  of -teaming  done  i 

with  lumber  feer  100  houses,  which  are  to  be  built 

in  the-  new  town  of  1'eah-  inanii-d  after  S.-nator 
I'eah-i  A  new  railroad  crosses  this  county, and 
tin- 1  utmel.  which  is  not  finished  yet,  goes  through 

tlie    All.-ghany  Mountains,  ami    is  about 
ipiarter-  ..f  a   mile   long,  is  near  IVaIr,  whirh   is 
tillri-n  miles  from  h.-re-.     WII.I.M-.  I.'.  Hern  IIM.V 

I  me  tllil"-  impressed  me  when  I  read  this  let  - 
te-r.  and  tliat  was  how  important  the  ,ln!\  <•! 
these  trapper  boys.  Th'--r  lit  tie  fellows  do  their 
work  out  of  sight.  Very  likely  their  fan  -  and 
hamls  are-  grimy,  and  they  oft,  n  get  M-ry  tire. I. 

bill     llpoll    their   fait  hflllU'-SS    lh   pe'lld     lllr    li\rs    of 

many  other.-.  ISolh  Ih.-se-  \\  illi.'s  ha\,'  written 
tin-  right  kind  of  Irlt.-rs  in  n-ply  to  our  friend 
Sammy.  

M,    Ml,.|ll,,AN. 

I  have  live  sisters  and  one  brolhc-r  older  than 
myself  M  '.  brother  i-  in  I  take  eta  :  he1  has  taken 
up  a  claim.'  We-  have-  thn-e'  borses  :  one  of  them 
is  a  trotter,  and  has  won  several  r.arrs  I  have 
two  dogs  ;  their  names  are  Tom  ami  I  lick  :  the-y 
are  hounds.  I  have-  one  .-at  :  hi-  name1  is  Tom 
I"..  M\  papa  i- po-tiua-ter,  I  a  in  t  wed  ve  y.-ars 
old.  and  1  like  to  stay  out  ol  doors  'most  all  <  d' 
th>-  time.  I  will  se'inl  a  r.-ceipt  for 

Me -i  \--i-  CANDY.      \  enp  of  molasses,  half  a 

CUP  "f  -II  gar.  blltt'T  t  he-  -i/.e  ol  all  egg.  and  a   t  ra- 

spoonful  of  vim-gar:  the'  candy  will  have  to  be 
stii-r.'ii  all  th"  time,  "r  it  will  burn-,  when  cool 
enough  to  handle,  pull  it ;  then  cut  it  into  sticks, 
and  leave  to  harden.  Kumi  VAN  V. 


M.VMT-."  '"    .    \\ 

I  am  a  i"  .  eleven  years  "Id.    \\v  have  \et-y 

c.'ld  want'  i-  an  I  ['Ira-ant  summers.  I  ha\e  lots 
ol  inn  in  t  IN-  winter, skating,  coasting, and  snow- 
balling I  L-"  I'.Mhing  in  summer  l,a-t  wee  I-  I 

destroyed     Ihrrr      was]is'     nests,    and     didn't      ge-t 

stun:,'  onec-.  I  read  Sammy's  left  rr,  and  t  benight 
[  would  answer  it.  1  liopc  my  letter  will  In- print- 
ed 111  nr  I'. 

A    Pr/./.i.i:    FOK   I.ITTI.E  Ar.Tlsi-      Take-   a    half- 

shri't   "1    pap.  T.  and    draw  a  prl't'.  rt    rirrlr.       Then 

try  with  how  few  lines  within  this  yon  can  re-p- 

n  -e-llt   all  t  he  let  111  -  "t    the  a  I  i '  1 1.  ll  ir  t  . 


F.T.:  lam  loir]  \  "ii  dislike-  little-  girls.     ' 
if  the;,  discover  it.  you  will  have  trouble  in  tiud- 
im;  parlnc-rsat  daneiu;,'  -rhoi  ,1      I'rrhal's  you  will 

like-  them  1  letter  whrll  >..!!  al'e  "Idrv.      Ml'all While 

a  \\  riter  as  Irvini:  is  1 1,.    ,    M 

br-l  thm^"  \,,iiran  form.  F.  T.  would  like  a  hoy 
to  occupj  roung  People's  Cot.  Thanks  to  Mary 
W..('hini  K.  T..  Arllinr  T..  Kiiiiiia  T.,,1.  M.  I,..  Hat- 
Hi-  F.,  Ortis  L.  II..  (  ircdy  ill-  (;.  Mc-C..  Ilirclic-  I!.  .1.. 
Mill-iciii  I,.  I)..  At'u-ic  A.. I..  l.i'in--i-( '.  1!..  (  Ilill-loj  S.. 
and  llntli)- (i.  )'.  .1.  Kric-nil  I..:  Vmr  new  home 
will  be  c-harmiiiL'.  I  am  sure  —  Sarah  I'.:  Thanks 

For  the  lovely  paper  dolls,  dear ;  as  I  have  no  lit- 
ile  niri  younc  enough  to  ei  |oj  '  hem,  1  have  -mt 

thrin    t"  inn-  child   in  St.  Mary's  1'Yee   II 
witli    \.iui-   I'l.iiv    m.  ssa  ire. —Lizzie   N".  1'.  will 
p!ea-e   -end    her  addrrss   to  Jennie-   c  I.    I:..  I'ost- 
Offlce    Box    •-''"•.   Nc-w    Bloomfield,    1'rrry  County, 
Pennsylvania,  as  Jennie  would  like  to  correspond 
with  a  .girl  whose  home  is  in  far-off  Ausiniiia 
K.  r.  s. :  5Tou  will  find  directions  "  How  to  Make 
a  Toj   Sti  amboal  'in  n  MM-I  R'S  YOUNG  I'i  "n  i 
\,,    is|    ]iubli-hc'd    May  s,  iss:j.  and  al-"  in   No. 

-,'il|,  issued  Seplem!" •  r  23. 


"  Tin-  j/erffct  tun  nf 


magazi't  e. 


AS 

ILLtSTRATEl*  WEEKLY. 

10    Pages. 

i  l«i-i<  e,  .sl..>O  a  Vcar. 


CLKVKI  \M'.  oni". 

I  am  a  little  lioy  who  takes  Vocvct  PEOIM.K.  and 
like  it  the  best  of  anything.  [  have  always  been 
sick  ever  since  1  ran  remember,  and  have  had  to 

take  medicine.  I  have  no  pets  except  a  kitty;  I 
call  it  Trot.  I  have  a  ereat  many  carpenter's 
tools.  I  made  a  bean-shooter.  I  have  been  at 
school  a  very  little.  I  study  at  home  when  I  am 
able.  I  like,)  ••  liaising  the  •  Pearl.'  "  I  hope  you 
will  print  this.  C'LVDIE  B. 

How  glad  I  shall  be  one  of  these  days  to  hear 
that  Clydie  is  well  and  strong  : 


LAS  VKr.AS  HOT  Spr.INfi*.  XF.\V  MKXH". 

I  live  in  Lawrence.  Kansas,  hut  am  out  here  for 
the  summer.  We  camp  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  Hot  Springs.  I  have  been  down  there  seven 
times.  We  camp  on  a  high  bank,  with  the  stream 
below  us.  There  are  mountains  all  around  us. 
One  day  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  mountain 
twelve  hundred  feet  high.  When  we  first  came 
here  there  were  in-  flowers,  because  there  had 
been  no  rain,  hut  now  there  are  plenty.  We  find 
lots  of  rocks,  ferns,  and  moss  here  that  are  very 
pretty.  We  have  taken  ^  «>r\>.  I'i  OIM.K  for  three 
years",  and  like  it  very  much.  I  have  been  to 

Colorado  and   New  Mexico  tin times  before 

this.    We  were  here  last  summer.    My  father  is 
Professor  of  the  Natural  History  Department  in 


n;»M  fOl  M'  CONTRIBUTORS. 

Xo.  1. 

TWO   WCIKII   s,,ir  IRES. 

I      I.  Husks,    x!.  A  .'oiliest.    :;    \  -i 4.  Ne- 

•_•      i     \n  animal,    a.  Leisure.    3.  A  continent. 
J.  A  initi'  tat 

l  n.u:i.i.s  10.  and  AiiTiiri:  II.  TIMMICIJJIAX. 


norr.LE  ACROSTIC. 
1   A  wiimingeard.    e  Exaggeration.    ;;   Before 

the.  ll I      I   A  (eTinan  town.    ~>.  A  vessel,    d. 

An  1-aiglish  town.  '.  Destruction.  K.  Latin  for 
against  '.i  \n  affirmative.  Initials  and  finals 
read  downward  give-  the'  name  of  a  celchratrd 
author  and  of  one  "f  hi-  books. 

i  IIAUI.ES  E.  and  Ar.Tiiuii  H.  TlMMERMAtf. 


B  N I G  Al  A . 

My  first  is  in  comb,  but  not  in  brush. 
My  second  is  in  walk,  but  not  in  rush 
A.|y  third  is  in  lane-,  hut  not  in  road 
My  fourth  is  in  eel.  but  neet  in  toad. 
My  whole-  is  an  exquisite's  chief  delight. 
And  a  weapon  defensive  for  use  at  night 

FORKEST  F. 

ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  No.  202. 
Xo.l.  In  the  dictionary. 


"ME    O/7A7Cl.V,s    111'    TI 

The  regular  visits  of  this  hc-atilifnl  weekly  come 
like-  ra\s  ,'f  golelcn  -11  n  shine  inli)  the  family  circle.— 
y.iini'H  Ilt'i-altl,  Boston. 

II  o  n  i:  s  Yoi'N,;  I'I.;.,IM.K  has  now  conic  to  he  one 
of  till'  111"-:  a!  trai  I  i\  r  a  nit  rvrllen!  I  y  editeil  juvenile 

peianiliral-  of  the  d;iy. —/"'''•/"'»''•"',  X.  Y. 

IlAKi'iu-.'s  Y.u  Mi  I'niri.r.  is  tin-  hi-- 1  we-ekly  for  chil- 
dren in  America. — Xu/itln''':\t>'i-/i  I'ln-'xtiiiu  I  \VOcate, 

The  grand  success  nf  tin-  healltifal  and  iustrlK'tive 

I   \\rrkly  for  yuang  leaders  is  tin-  lies!   proof 

tliaV  it  tills  a  needed  place.     No  iiKiga/.iac  of  its  kind 

lias  ever  come  into  surh  b,Miiidlc-s  popularity  in  so 

short  a  time— C'/iiVne;»  lnt:-f-i>,;;<ji, 

The  illustiations  form  a  wh.de  art  gallery  in  them- 
se.vr-,  rind  a  gallery  that  contains  some  ge'tus  worthy 
o!  pi  !•-,•:  \  at  1011  liy  tin  [leople  ol  I  lie  ina-l  ''iillivatcd 
taste  in  pictures. — l;r"nf;ti/ii  7V/je'.s. 

In  its  weekly  instalments  it  has  ijern  th«-  dcligllt  of 
inmimcrahle  boys  and  girls  in  ihisXew  World  ofntr-, 
|,,r  \,,i  M.  I'i  ii'ia:  i-  read  from  Hudson  Hay  to  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama.  In  a  lilerarv  sense,  the-  material 

found  in  it  is  excellent,  and  the  informal given  on 

inmimcrahle  subjects  is  always  convoyed  in  a  sensible 
ami  Intelligible  manner.— JT.  )'.  Times. 

We  know  of  no  book  better  calculated  to  interest 
and  m.-irm-f  the  young  than  the  til'ly-lwo  nnmlin  i  "I 
this  popular  illustrated  weekly.  U  c.ml.aicis  a  vast 
amount  of  good  reading  of  the  ino.-t  vai  led  '  liarai.-ter. 
"  '  *  All  that  the  artist's  -kin  ran  accomplish  in  the 
way  of  illustration  has  been  done,  and  tin-  h,-t  talent 
ol  [he  cotiutrj  ha-  cmitriliuii'd  i"  i;s  text.— .\v/''  Eng- 
land .lnl/,-!Ktl  >'/  lytili-ntnnl,  iHi-toll. 

lu  its  special  field  there  is  nothing  that  can  he  com- 
pared with  il.—JIarl.funl  ;•>,»/»./  /W. 

For  children  tlic  volume:  is  simply  a  treasure-house 
ot  d.  li-htfnl  ihhigs.— /Vi/7cieiW/<//m  Iliiilrlni. 

Thrie  i-  cntei  t.'iinmcnt  enough  ill  its  eight  hundred 
and  odd  pages  of  stories,  skctc-lic-,  poems,  pu/7.les  and 
pictures  to  fill  up  the  evening*  "f  a  u  hole  winter.  It 
is  guild,  wholesome  cntc.-tninmcnl,  too,  and  wMl  both 
aimer  ami  interest  the  juveniles.—  riiiluili'/iiluu  Jn- 
'/iiifi  /•. 

Its  wealth  of  stories,  sketches,  poetry,  pie-lure-,  pir/.- 
7.1cs,  and  correspondence  form  a  c"lle:'tion  of  intel- 
lectual treasures  the  possession  of  which  will  make 
any  boy  or  girl  ill  the  land  "as  happy  :.-  a  king, "and 
which,  liy  reason  of  its  moderate  price,  is  within  the 
reach  of  all  who  wish  to  have  it  at  their  command.— 
r.'iliniiin;-  dinette. 

II  \u'  had  a  dozen  children  and  could  only  buy  one 

Christmas  gift  to  he  divided  al "  :  he'n,  our  choice 

would  i.-rlainly  fall  on  this  book  that  has  so  many 
beautiful  pictures  and  quaint  stoiirs  prc-seel  between 
its  handsome  covers,  for  it  will  give'  delight  to  the 
little  four-year-old  who  cries  out,  "I  don't,  want  a 
switch  in  my  'locking,  Santa  Cans  !"  as  well  as  to  the 
inli'lle-i-tnal  hoy  or  girl  who  loves  tei  read  riddles, 
solve  pnz7.1es.  laugh  over  funny  stories  and  cry  over 
sad  ones.  Long  live.  II AI:CI.I-.'S  YOUMI  Pi:oei.i:!  say 
we.— .Yen'  Orleans  7V"  ml 


No.  2. 
No.  3. 


K,  N  (Cayenne). 

Carpet.    Wallace. 

Participle. 


correct  atiswe-t-s  to  puzzles  have  been  received 
from  Fannie  stetson.  Laura  Edwards,  James  Par- 
n-idge-.  Forrest  F..  Laura  Brunner.  Dei  Baldwin. 
I-'  T.Cambridge  Livingston,  Charles  E.  and  Ar- 
thur II  Tininii-rman.  liollv  Havens.  Mabel  Fletch- 
er Jack  Hodges.  Clark  Wheeler.  Emerson  Day, 
li.  L.  Parker,  Gazetta,  Amy  Dudley,  R.  S.  T.,  and 
Emily  King.  

\_For  Exchanges,  nee  '111  and  3d  pages  of  cover.] 


Subscription  Price,  &1.5O  n  Year. 

Postage  Free 
ll  subscribers  in  the  United  States  anil  Canada. 

Specimen  efijvr  tent  on  receipt  nf  a  three-cent  stain  p. 


BOUND  VOLUMES 

HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

No  more  attractive  Christmas  gift  could  he  mnde  to 
a  child  than  a  copy  of  this  bound  volume.— Cincinnati 
Commercial. 

Volume  IV.  nearly  >v,/,/v.  A  few  copies  of 
Volumes  II.  and  III.  still  on  hanJ.  Price  $3.00 
each.  Volume  I.  out  df  print. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 


768 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE   FA  HUES'  PALETTK. 

BY  MEL  R.  COLQU1TT. 

SEE  the  fairies'  palette. 
With  as  many  brilliant  dyes 
As  ever  were  seen  in  the  rainbow 
Flushing  fair  summer  skies! 

When  faiiy  artists  need  a  tint 

Of  any  gorgeous  hue. 
They  dip  their  tiny  brushes 

In  flowers  \vel  with  dew. 

In  the  stainless  daisy. 

With  its  royal  crown  of  liiilil. 
They  rind  a  golden  yellow 

And  a  lovely  creamy  white. 


Ill    the   sweet    wood  violet. 

With  its  purple  and  its  blue. 
They  find  rich  kingly  colors 

Of  many  a  splendid  hue. 

They  borrow  from  the  restless  bee, 

That  busy  thieving  rover, 
Pale  pink  and  crimson,  lilac  too. 

Si dlen  from  the  meadow  clover. 

They  mix  their  paints  of  blooms  and  dew 
As  they  chat  and  paint  together; 

The  daintiest  brush  they  have  is  made 
Of  the  saucy  jay -bird's  feather. 

And  when  at  last  comes  "hanging-day," 

Wee  critics  stand  around, 
And  give  their  sage  opinions 

In  learned  words  profound. 

The  tiny  pictures  all  are  hung 

In  the  gallery  of  dreams, 
Where  happy  children  view  them 

By  the  light  of  soft  moonbeams. 


WHO  CAN  FIND  THEM? 

A   LETTER   CONTAINING  TWENTY-FOUR   HIDDEN   BIRDS. 

DEAR  MOTHER, — On  returning  from  walking,  Fisher  ami  I 
came  into  the  yard  with  rush  and  hurry,  and  only  lacked 
a  small   number  of  inches  of  knocking  Rob  into  a  deep  gully 
which  is  being  prepared  for  a  drain.     He  fell,  but  escaped  un- 
hurt, with  a  few  rents  in  his  clothes.     Mr.  Crowell  called  us  to 
his  desk,  and  said  we  must  crave  not  only  Rob's  pardon,  but  his, 
1  for  such  awkward  carelessness.     Then  he  called  the  boys  for  the 
social  hour.      He  said,  "  What  is  wanted  to-night  ?" 

And  the  boys  said,  "  A  story." 

He  told  of  a  trip  he  once  took  for  a  fur  company.  It  was  in 
a  very  cold  climate,  and  they  felt  Jack  Frost's  nip  every  time 
they  went  out.  Once,  ill  a  severe  storm  of  snow,  late  at  niijit, 
in  gales  of  wind  sufficient  to  blind  them,  they  were  nearly  lost. 
Richard  Parr,  otter-hunter,  and  guide  to  the  party,  had  with  him 
his  wife,  who  was  an  Indian.  Mrs.  Parr  owned  afterward  it  was 
the  hardest  time  to  find  her  way  she  ever  saw.  They  finally 
found  the  paths,  wallowing  in  snow  uear  to  their  waists.  In 
camp  they  found  a  supper  ready,  first  a  soup  made  from  a  vege- 
table called  ocra.  new  milk  brought  from  a  distant  farm  in  a 
large  can.  A  rye  pudding  smoking  hot  completed  the  meal.  He 
added  a  short  sketch  of  his  tour  amongst  the  Scotch  islands,  first 
the  Hebrides,  next  Shetland,  and  last  Orkney  Isles. 

Thank  \  on  for  sending  the.  horsewhip.  Poor  Willie  Gay  has 
not  been  well,  and  he  rides  my  pony  often.  Don't  worry  about 
my  clothes;  these  will  do  very  well.  When  you  sent  my  fork 
you  forgot  my  spoon.  Bill  White  has  a  jolly  one. 

Your  loving  son.  FKKI>. 


FALL    SPORTS— SHINNY. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED, 


VOL.  IV.— NO.  300. 


BY   HARI'KI;  .v    I'-IJOTIIERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


Tuesday,  October  !>,  1883. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  HARPKB  &   BHUTHKKB. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


AN    ADOPTED    FAMILY. 

is  a  portrait  group  of  a  family  that  lived  and 
flourished  under  the  shelter  of  an  old  barn  in  far-off 
bonnie  Scotland. 

During  one  of  the  warm  summer  months  the  mother 
hen  laid  a  dozen  or  more  of  round  white  eggs  in  a  cozy 
nest  in  one  corner  of  the  barn.  Then  she  went  to  work 
and  sat  upon  them  day  and  night,  after  the  manner  of 
hens,  expecting  that  in  the  course  of  three  or  four  weeks 
she  would  have  a  brood  of  downy  chickens  to  run  about 
with  and  scratch  up  food  for. 

But  the  weeks  went  by,  and  day  followed  day  without 
any  chickens  appearing.  There  was  not  even  a  peep 
within  the  shell,  and  no  tiny  active  little  bill  undertook 
to  peck  its  way  out  into  the  great  world.  The  poor  mo- 
ther hen  was  heart-broken,  and  grew  thinner  and  thinner, 
until  the  good  farmer  began  to  think  she  would  die  of  her 
disappointment. 


One  day  she  was  roaming  about  the  barn,  very  lonely 
and  miserable,  when  she  discovered  an  old  peck  measure, 
and  inside  it  eight  little  kittens  not  more  than  a  few  days 
old.  In  a  moment  she  concluded  to  adopt  them  in  place 
of  the  chickens  she  had  longed  for,  and  spreading  out  her 
wings  she  crouched  down  over  the  kittens,  warming  them 
deliciously  with  her  soft  feathers.  Never  was  there  a 
happier  hen.  "Cluck-cluck-cluck — cluck-cluck—cluck- 
cluck-cluck!"  she  sang,  and  nestled  closer  and  closer  to 
her  strange  little  brood. 

But  her  happiness  lasted  only  a  short  time.  Puss,  the 
real  mother  of  the  kittens,  who  had  been  off  on  a  hunting 
expedition,  came  back  with  a  mouse  in  her  mouth,  and 
saw  the  new  state  of  affairs.  Oh,  but  she  was  angry! 
With  a  growl  and  a  hiss  she  flew  at  the  poor  hen,  and 
drove  her  clear  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  barn.  Then 
she  took  each  little  kitten  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and 
carried  it  carefully  up  into  the  loft.  Presently  she  found 
a  warm  corner  for  her  children.  She  arranged  a  bed  of 


770 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


soft  straw,  and  soon  they  were  almost  as  comfortable  as 
they  had  been  in  their  peck  measure. 

But  the  poor  hen !  •  She  v,-as  more  sorrowful  now  than 
ever,  and  soon  she  found  her  way  up  into  the  loft,  and 
looked  jealously  at  Puss  and  her  family.  What  happened 
between  them  we  never  shall  know,  but  it  seems  as  if 
there  must  have  been  a  long  conversation.  The  hen  told 
her  troubles  to  Puss,  and  Puss  must  have  felt  sorry  for  her, 
and,  like  all  good  little  mothers,  she  must  have  wanted 
to  do  what  she  could  to  help  her  friend's  trouble.  At  all 
ev-.'iils,  they  came  to  an  arrangement.  The  little  kittens 
were  to  have  two  mothers. 

The  hen  could  not  feed  the  kittens.  That  Puss  must 
do.  But  as  soon  as  their  own  mother  gave  them  a  warm 
meal  of  milk,  then  the  hen  would  take  them  in  charge,  and 
cuddle  them  up  under  her  wings  for  a  nap,  while  Puss 
went  off  to  hunt  up  a  living  for  herself.  In  this  way  the 
two  took  turns  in  caring  for  the  little  ones,  and  never 
were  there  any  kittens  who  had  more  attention,  or  a  bet- 
ter time.  Indeed,  it  would  sometimes  seem  as  if  they  pre- 
ferred their  hen  to  their  own  mother,  so  attentive  were 
they  to  her.  Even  when  they  grew  up  to  be  quite  large 
cats  they  would  go  about  with  her  when  she  was  scratch- 
ing up  a  dinner,  and  so  contented  was  she  with  her  foster- 
children  that  she  never  again  undertook  to  set  upon  a 
nestful  of  stupid  eggs  that  wouldn't  hatch  into  chickens. 


MISS  TREADWELL'S  GUEST. 

BY  MARY  DENSEL. 

MISS  HANNAH  TREADWELL'S  house  was  a  lonely- 
looking    dwelling.      The   front   blinds  were  always 
closed.      The  front  door  had  never  been  opened  since  old 
Dr.  Treadwell's  funeral,  three  years  ago. 

Very  few  people  called  on  Miss  Hannah.  No  one  ever 
"  ran  in"  to  spend  an  afternoon.  No  one  was  ever  invited 
to  "bring  her  knitting  and  stay  to  tea." 

So  110  wonder  that  all  the  village  was  excited  when  one 
morning  in  August  there  was  evidently  a  stir  in  the 
Treadwell  mansion.  Not  only  were  the  parlor  blinds 
thrown  open,  but  Mehitable.  the  rheumatic  servant,  was 
seen  wrestling  with  the  parlor  windows,  which  refused  to 
move  an  inch  until  they  were  pried  open  with  a  screw- 
driver. Then  Miss  Hannah  herself  appeared,  walking 
down  to  the  gate,  and  shading  her  eyes  as  she  gazed  up 
the  street  in  the  direction  from  which  the  Otisville  stage 
would  come,  bringing  its  passengers  from  the  railway,  five 
miles  distant. 

And,  sure  enough,  here  was  the  stage,  and  perched  on 
the  top  a  girl  about  fifteen  years  old. 

Rumble!  rumble!  rumble!  The  coach  drew  up  at  Miss 
Treadwell's  gate.  The  girl  climbed  nimbly  down. 

"Here  I  am,  Cousin  Hannah.  Mamma  says  I  may 
stay  three  whole  months.  She  and  papa  have  started  for 
the  West.  You  were  so  good  to  offer  to  take  me  hi !" 

Miss  Treadwell  bent  down  lo  kiss  her  visitor.  "I  am 
sure  it  was  kind  in  you  to  come  to  an  old  woman  like  me, 
my  dear,"  she  said. 

"  Kind  !  Why,  I  was  crazy  to  get  here.  I  shall  have 
a  perfectly  beautiful  time.  Who  lives  in  the  next  house, 
( '( uisin  Hannah  '.  A  girl,  I  hope ;  for  mamma  said  I  might 
go  lo  school,  and  the  girl  in  the  next  house  will  introduce 
me  to  everybody,  I'm  sure." 

Chattering,  laughing,  the  iiew-eonier  went  up  the  walk, 
followed  by  the  stage-driver,  who  was  carrying  her  trunk. 

"Come  from  New  York,  she  did."  explained  the  same 
si  age-driver,  as  he  Hung  down  the  mail-bag  at  the  post- 
ollice  door. 

"She  came  from  New  York,"  repeated  Rose  Moore ;  "and 
1  hey  say  she's  going  to  school  at  the  Classical  Institute." 

"  With  the  rest  of  us  ;"  asked  Lily  Meadows,  to  whom 
Rose  spoke. 


"With  the  rest  of  us!"  answered  Rose,  and  there  was  a 
sharp  ring  to  her  voice. 

Lily  noticed  it  at  once.  Lily  always  noticed  Rose's 
tones,  and  brought  her  own  into  harmony.  So,  "Itwoi1'; 
be  very  pleasant  having  a  stranger  at  school,"  said  she. 

••(  it'  coui^e  it  won't.  We've  all  been  so  intimate.  And 
think  of  the  airs  this  New-Yorker  will  give  herself !  Why. 
the  driver  said  her  trunk  almost  broke  his  back.  T was 
as  big  as  a  small  cottage." 

"What  heaps  of  clothes  she  must  have!"  exclaimed 
Lily,  quite  awe-stricken. 

"I've  no  idea  her  clothes  are  any  better  than  ours," 
cried  Rose,  giving  a  twitch  to  her  orange-plumed  hat. 

The  truth  is,  that  hat  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  It 
was  new,  and  Hose  had  been  counting  on  the  sensation  it 
would  cause  at  the  "  Classical  Institute."  Moreover,  Rose 
had  always  been  chief  among  the  Otisville  girls.  And 
now  here  was  this  small  person  from  the  great  metropo- 
lis, with  unknown  glories  in  the  way  of  clothes,  and  prob- 
ably a  multitude  of  charms  to  match.  Was  Rose  to  be 
put  one  side  by  foreign  dresses  and  manners  ?  Perish 
the  thought ! 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Alice   Dill,  all   ready  to 
clasp  hands  with    new   friends,   presented    herself  at  the 
"Classical  Institute,"  Rose  scanned  her  with  a  critical  eye. 
"I'll  put  on  my  very  best  dress,  Cousin  Hannah."  Alice 
had  said  that    morning.      "  I  do  so  want  the  girls  to  like 
me.  and  perhaps  if  I  look  pretty  they'll  be  more  apt  to." 
"I  do  so  want  the  girls  to  like  me!" 
So  it  was  that  she  made  her  own  unhappiuess. 
Was  it  not  a  pity  tlial  the  little  gray  gown  was  so  very 
stylish  .'      Far  heller  had  the  fashionable  New  York  milli- 
ner given  her  the  plainest  hat  rather  than  that  jaunty 
gray  turban,  with  its  lovely  crimson-tipped  wing. 
"  I  do  so  want  the  girls  to  like  me !" 
There  the  little  stranger  stood,  casting  wistful  glances, 
almost  on  tip-toe  in  her  eagerness  to  make  friends.      And 
Rose  saw  her.      Oh  yes.  Hose  took  in  the  whole  situation, 
together  with  the  graceful  gown  and  the  coquettish  hal. 

"She's  from  New    York.      It's  not  likely  she'll   have 
much  in  common  with  us, "she  whispered  here  and  there. 
Lily  took  her  cue. 

"From  New  York,"  she  echoed.  "Of  course  she'll 
look  down  on  us  country  girls." 

Such  a  tiny  tlanie  of  envy  and  spite,  but  how  it  spread 
through  the  "Classical  Institute-"  ! 

It  reached  Miss  Tread  well's  next-door  neighbor,  the  irirl 
on  whom  Alice  Dill  had  especially  set  her  hopes,  Katinka 
Stearns. 

Katinka  had  on  a  new  dress,  green  with  yellow  polka 
dots,  and  how  very  queer  it  did  look  when  compared  with 
that  gray  gown  from  New  York.  So  Katinka  joined  Rose 
and  Lily. 

Alice  walked  home  alone  at  noon,  and  it  was  a  very 
downcast  face  that  looked  over  to  Miss  Treadwell's  at  the 
dinner  table. 

"Nobody  spoke  to  me,"  said  a  voice  half  choked  with 
tears. 

M  aybe  they  were  bashful,  and  waited  for  you  to  speak 
first,"  suggested  Cousin  Hannah. 

Alice  brightened.      "  Why,  perhaps  they  did." 
So  off  she  started  afresh,  full  of  cheer. 
Rose  was  at  the  school-room  door. 
"  How  do  you  do,"  said  Alice. 

"How  do  you  do."  answered  Rose,  and  then  she  turned 
away. 

The  group  of  girls  standing  by  began  to  giggle.  The 
blood  surged  up  into  Alice's  face.  She  crept  away  to  her 
seat. 

At  recess  she  followed  the  rest  into  the  yard,  and  stood 
in  a  corner,  heavy  at  heart.  Still  hoping  for  a  word  from 
some  one,  a  quick  smile  welcomed  any  eye  which  might 
glance  that  way,  but  it  faded  again  when  no  one  respond 


OCTOBER  9,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


771 


cd.  80  Alice  tried  to  content  herself  by  watching  a  game 
of  ''Hop  Scotch."  She  gazed  in  open  -eyed  wonder,  for 
she  had  never  seen  anything  so  droll  in  her  life  as  the  per- 
formance df  one  very  lean  and  lank  young  woman,  who 
went  hopping  hither  and  thither  like  a  distracted  stork. 
When  at  last  she  gave  a  sudden  plunge,  and  fell  flat  with 
a  crash.  Alice  forgot  herself,  and  laughed  outright.  Rose 
heard  her. 

"You  see,  Katinka."  said  she,  "I  told  you  she  would 
make  fun  of  our  games." 

So  Alice  was  left  even  more  severely  alone,  excepting 
for  t  \\-ii  or  three  of  the  very  youngest  children,  who  smiled 
back  at  her  when  she  ottered  to  teach  Iliem  "  jack  si  ones.  " 

"Don't  you  want  to  learn  too:"  she'  shyly  asked  Ka- 
tinka. 

But  Katinka  caught  Rose's  eye,  and  answered.  "No. 
thank  you." 

"I  know  how  to  do  gymnastics  too,"  pleaded  Alice. 
"They're  great  fun.  "We  had  some  liars  and  a  trape/e  at 
home.  My  brother  Will  said  I  was  a  regular  monkey  at 
swinging.  He  used  to  make  me  jump  and  catch  the  tra- 
pe/e when  it  was  in  full  motion." 

"  We  don't  do  such  things  here,"  said  Rose,  coldly.  Not 
knowing  what  on  earth  a  trape/e  might  be,  Uose  was  the 
more  convinced  that  the  city  girl  was  "putting  on  airs." 

So  Alice  was  thrown  on  t  lie  mercy  of  the  younger  schol- 
ars, and,  little  by  little,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  she 
preferred  the  society  of  "the  infants." 

She  was  lonely  at  school,  lonely  also  in  llie  big,  gloomy 
house,  where  Miss  Hannah,  in  spite  of  her  good-will,  did 
not  at  all  understand  the  needs  of  a  \  on  ng  girl.  Too  shv 
to  court  Ihe  friendships  which  had  been  refused  her,  the 
sunshiny  face  grew  sad.  And  this  was  the  life  which 
Alice  had  thought  would  be  so  delight  fill  ; 

]!y  degrees  any  real  hostility  died  out.  Who  could  be 
actively  unkind  to  so  harmless  an  enemy  :  She  was  mere- 
ly left  alone. 

"  For.  though  I  don't  object  to  her,"  said  Rose.  "  1  see 
no  reason  that  we  should  bother  ourselves  over  her.  She 
doesn't  belong  to  us.  She  likes  the  "babes':  let  her  stay 
with  them." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  Alice  was  not  invited  to  join  a 
select  picnic  to  "The  Pines"  one  warm  Saturday  in  Sep- 
tember. Sitting  solitary  on  Miss  Hannah's  door  steps,  she 
.sau  Hose,  Lily,  and  Katinka  go  by  with  their  baskets.  She 
guessed  only  too  well  what  a  merry  time  they  would  have, 
but  she  did  not  know  that,  finding  the  mosquitoi-s  had  also 
chosen  "The  Pines"  for  their  revels,  they  hail  sauntered 
back  as  far  as  the  Otisville  Inn,  and  taken  possession  of 
tae  big  stage-coach  which  stood  under  the  shed. 

Here  they  ate  their  lunch,  and  when  the  driver  appear- 
ed they  begged  him  to  take  them  with  him  to  the  train 
and  back. 

"  We've  lost  half  our  fun."  they  pleaded.  "Come,  now, 
Mr.  Larkin,  do  give  us  a  ride." 

The  good-natured  driver  agreed,  and  quickly  harnessing 
his  horses,  stepped  into  the  inn  to  get  a  last  bundle. 

"Here's  a  jolly  good  time,  "exclaimed  Rose,  holding  up 
a  tin  pail,  and  drumming  briskly  on  the  bottom. 

The  forward  horse  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"Timi-ti-tum!  tum-ti-tum!"  rattled  the  pail  inside. 

Toby's  head  went  an  inch  higher. 

A  shrill  voice  set  up  a  song.  The  clatter  on  the  pail 
grew  louder. 

"  Ah  !"  quoth  Toby.      "Let's  off  and  away." 

Down  the  yard  started  the  horses.  The  driver,  at  the 
window,  saw  them  passing  the  gate. 

"  Whoa!"  he  shouted,  rushing  wildly  after  them. 

It  was  too  late.  The  horses  turned  a  sharp  corner,  and 
took  the  road  at  a  smart  trot. 

Rose,  stretching  her  head  out  of  the  coach,  screamed 
loudly.  A  small  boy  by  the  road-side  threw  up  his  hat. 

The  horses  swerved  to  the  right— to  the  left.    They  toss- 


ed their  manes.  The  trot  became  a  canter,  the  canter  a 
gallop,  the  gallop  a  run. 

Inside  the  stage  cowered  the  girls,  too  terrified  to  think 
of  jumping.  Only  Rose  kept  her  head  out  the  window, 
shrieking,  "Whoa!  whoa!  Save  us!  save  us!  Whoa! 
whoa!" 

They  were  Hearing  Miss  Treadwell's  house.  There  on 
the  door-step  sat  Alice  Dill.  Rose  saw  her.  It  flashed 
into  her  mind  how  she  had  seen  her  on  the  same  spot  two 
hours  ago,  and  had  said. 

"  We  don't  want  her." 

It  seemed  like  a  dream,  but  she  saw  Alice  spring  from 
her  seat,  and  dash  into  the  road. 

"Save  us!  save  us!"  screamed  Rose.  Then  she  fell  back 
into  Katinka 's  arms. 

How  she  did  it  Alice  could  never  tell.  She  only  knew 
that  her  two  hands  grasped  the  trunk-rest  of  the  coach, 
and  with  a  tremendous  jump  she  was  011  the  shelf. 

A  strap  was  swinging  from  the  top  of  the  stage.  Alice 
clutched  it.  and  clambered  to  the  roof. 

The  horses  were  running,  but  rnuuing  steadily.  The 
country  road  wassmoolh. 

Alice  crept  along.  She  reached  the  driver's  box.  She 
was  re] (eating  a  little  prayer  with  all  her  might. 

"Thereins!   the  reins!      ( Jive  me  the  reins.       Amen!" 

She  balanced  herself  with  one  arm.  She  reached  for- 
\\ard.  [t -was  one  chance  in  a  hundred.  Ah!  there  were 
t  lie  reins  twisted  around  the  whip-socket.  Alice's  fingers 
closed  upon  them.  She  planted  her  feet.  She  tightened 
her  hold.  Her  eyes  almost  started  out  of  her  head.  Her 
teeth  were  locked.  Her  breath  came  in  quick  gasps. 

But  just  before  her  was  Bead  ley's  Mount,  the  steepesl 
hill  in  all  the  country  round.  The  horses  tried  to  veer  into 
a  side  road,  but  a  sharp  jerk  011  the  reins  drew  them  back. 

Up  the  mount  they  plunged.  Twenty  yards,  and  the 
run  had  become  a  gallop;  forty  yards,  the  gallop  was  a 
canter;  sixty  yards,  the  canter  was  a  trot;  eighty  yards, 
the  i  rot  was  but  a  walk.  The  leader's  head  drooped. 
Slower  and  slower  grew  the  pace. 

The  top  was  gained,  and  the  horses  stood  still,  panting, 
trembling,  their  sides  heaving,  the  foam  on  their  bits  and 
on  their  quivering  haunches.  Oh,  blessed  earthquake 
which,  in  ages  past,  upheaved  Beadley's  Mount ! 

On  the  box,  white  and  stiff,  her  hands  glued  to  the 
reins,  sat  the  New  York  girl  as  motionless  as  a  stone. 

Rose,  Lily,  and  Katinka  crept  out  of  the  coach.  Thev 
stretched  out  their  arms  to  Alice;  they  called  her  name, 
but  she  did  not  answer.  Then  they  saw  her  droop  and 
sink  down. 

The  next  three  weeks  were  terrible  to  Rose,  to  Lily,  to 
Katinka.  They  haunted  Miss  Treadwell's  yard,  but  thev 
might  not  see  the  fever-stricken  Alice. 

"And,  oh,  Rose,  "cried  Katinka,  with  a  burst  of  tears. 
"they  say  she  is  out  of  her  head,  and  she  keeps  re- 
peating, 'Push  the  trapeze.  Will.  I  can  catch  like  a 
monkey.'  And  then  she  cries  out.  'The  reins! — give  me 
the  reins!  Amen!'  Rose.  Rose,  she'll  die,  and  we  have 
killed  her." 

But  no.  Alice  did  not  die.  She  even  went  back  in 
time  to  the  "Classical  Institute." 

And  did  she  stand  in  a  corner  now  ?  Did  she  vainly 
ask  for  love  and  friendship  '! 

Ah!  what  happiness  the  blessed  October  brought!  It 
was  Rose  who  called  each  morning  to  walk  to  school 
with  Alice.  It  was  Lily  who  gladly  taught  her  games. 
It  was  Katinka  who  could  never  do  enough  for  her. 

Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  Katinka,  I  should  not  have 
heard  a  word  concerning  the  misery  of  September. 

"To  think  how  mean  we  were!"  cried  Katinka,  with 
blushes  of  shame — "to  think  (,f  it!  Only  to  think  of  it!" 

But  Alice  forgot  it  all  in  her  joy. 

"Those  dear  Otisville  girls !"  she  always  said.  "  They 
were  so  very  kind  to  me.'1 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


DREAM-BAGS.* 

I'.Y    KIRK    MVNROE. 

OVER  tin-  ocean  far  and  wide 
The  good  ship  sails— a  thing  of  pride 
To  tin-  sailor  boy,  who  treads  her  deck 
As  happy  and  careless  as  though  no  wreck 
Had  ever  been  known  on  the  ocean   wide. 
Nor  ships  been   lost   in  the  swelling  tide. 
Alow  and  aloft  he's  busy  all  day. 
Till  the  sun  has  finished  his  golden  way ; 
And  at  four  bells,  struck  with  a  hearty  will. 
The  boatswain's  call,  with  its  whistle  shrill. 
Is.  "  Tumble  up   for  dream  IjagS.' 

Then  he  to  the  hammock  netting  springs. 

And   down   below  his  dream-bag  swings 

'.Mid  shining  rows  of  cannon  grim. 

\Vliieh  are   but    well-tried    friends  to  him. 

Then   comes  an   hour  of  well-earned   rest. 

(M   song  and  story  and  merry  jest. 

And  the  sailor  boy  walclies  his  guiding  siar. 

That  shines  like  a'  beacon  light   steady  and  far. 

Till  two  bells  strike  in   the  evening  still; 

And  the  boatswain's  call,  with  its  whittle  shrill. 

Is.  ••  Tumble  into  dream-hags." 

Then  all   niirhl    long,  in   peacelnl   sleep. 

Rocked  by  billows  whose  steady  sweep 

Marks  time  to  the  tune  the  sea-bree/e  sings, 

Tin'  sailor  boy  safe  in  his  dream-bag  swings. 

He  has  vision's  of  many  a  daring  deed. 

Of  home,  and  the  mother   whose  gentle  creed 

Is  still  his  steadiest,  surest   guide 

Through  tempest   and   wreck   and   all   besidi — 

Till  four  bells  strike  in  the  morning  chill. 

And  the  boatswain's  call,  \\ilh   iK   whistle  shrill. 

Is.  "  Tumble  out   of  dream-bags.' 


A  VILLAIN   THAT  LUIKS   IN   T1IK  WOODS. 

1!Y   II     II.   KANE.  M.I). 


ur  readers  who  arc  so  fortunate  as  to  be  in  the 
J.  country  during  the  months  of  September  and  October 
will  find  them  the  pleasantest  months  in  the  year.  There 
is  just  enough  of  the  frost  of  winter  in  the  cool  air  to 
redden  the  cheeks,  set  the.  blood  tingling-  through  the 
veins,  cause  the  eyes  to  sparkle,  and  make  life  seem  even 
better  worth  living  than  ever  before. 

What  pleasure  it  is  to  wander  in  the  woods  and  mea- 
dows, gather  the  late  flowers,  poke  and  pry  into  the  trees 
with  hollow  trunks,  watch  wild-eyed  rabbits,  startled  by 
your  voice  or  step,  dart  rapidly  from  brush  or  thicket, 
and  to  gather  the  leaves  that  nature  has  so  quickly  and 
beautifully  painted  in  such  brilliant  colors! 

But  there  is  a  danger  that  lurks  in  these  pleasant  mea- 
dows arid  fragrant  woods.  Not  wild  animals  such  as  dash 
out  from  the  jungles  of  India  or  jump  upon  you  from  the 
trees,  but  a  villain  that  is  apt  to  lull  every  suspicion  you 
might  otherwise  have  of  his  evil  intentions,  for,  like  many 
other  dangerous  villains,  he  is  handsomely  dressed,  and 

*  The  namo  trivrn  by  sailnr  boys  to  thrir  hammocks. 


not  only  does  not  look  as  if  he  would  do  you  any  harm, 
but.  on  the  contrary,  resembles  things  that  you  know  to 
be  good,  and  of  which  you  feel  no  fear. 

Nearlv  every  boy  or  girl  who  has  wandered  in  the  cool 
shadv  wood  paths,  or  by  the  side  of  brooks  and  ponds,  has 
seen  him  every  summer  and  autumn,  either  standing  alone 
or  leaning  up  against  a  stone  wall  or  broken  fence.  Chil- 
dren who  meet  him  should  pass  him  by  at  once,  not  stop- 
ping for  a  moment  to  take  any  of  the  handsome  flowers 
or  eat  any  of  the  tempting  fruit  he  offers.  Many  chil- 
dren that  have  done  so  have  been  made  very  sick  by  it, 
and  some  poor  little  unfortunates  have  been  killed. 

For  this  dangerous  villain  is  a  plant,  and  this  hand- 
some and  dangerous  plant  is  known  by  the  hard  Latin 
name  Atropa  belladonna,  or,  more  commonly,  de.(«llij 
•nightshade.  Our  illustration  is  a  very  good  picture  of  it, 
It  stands  about  three  feet  high,  has  a  thick  fleshy  stem 
with  branches,  and  is  usually  found  in  damp  or  cool 
places,  such  as  woods,  ravines,  the  edges  of  swamps,. or 
against  stone  walls  or  ruins. 

It  is  very  handsome  when  in  full  bloom,  and  is  very  apt 
to  attract  the  attention  of  children,  who,  from  the  beauty 
of  its  flowers  or  the  tempting  look  of  its  fruit,  often  pluck 
the  former  and  eat  the  latter,  always  a  dangerous  and 
sometimes  a  fatal  proceeding.  The  flowers,  which  usual 
]y  appear  in  June  and  July,  are  large,  bell-like  in  shape, 
and  of  a  dull  reddish  color.  They  usually  hang  down- 
ward by  a  narrow  and  seemingly  frail  stem.  The  leaves  of 
the  plant  are  oval,  pointed,  of  a  dusky  green  color  on  lop 
and  a  paler  green  underneath.  They  hang  in  pairs,  and 
are  nearly  of  the  same  size. 

The  berries,  which  are  the  most  dangerous,  owing  to  the 
likelihood  that  the  little  ones  may  gather  and  eat  them, 
are,  when  ripe,  often  mistaken  for  "wild  cherries'"  both 
from  their  shape  and  color.  At  first  green,  they  grow 
red,  and  when  fully  ripe  are  of  a  deep  purplish -red 
color.  At  first  somewhat  ovate  (egg-shaped),  and  hav- 
ing a  shallow  furrow  on  either  side,  they  grow  round  as 
they  grow  ripe,  which  ripening  usually  takes  place  in 
September. 

As  no  cherries,  wild  or  domesticated  i grown  at  home 
and  cared  for),  are  ever  to  be  found  as  late  as  September, 
or  on  such  a  bush,  the  child  who  bears  this  in  mind  is  not 
likely  to  make  the  serious  mistake  that  so  many  have 
already  made.  Then,  too,  the  taste,  though  sweetish,  is 
not  like  that  of  a  cherry,  and  the  seeds  are  very  different. 
In  the  belladonna  berry  the 
capsule  (stone)  is  found 
comparatively  soft,  and  to 
consist  of  two  compart- 
ments, or  sacs,  filled  with 
small  seeds. 

Children  who  have  eat- 
en these  poisonous  berries 
become  very  sick  and  vom 
it.  The  pupils  of  their  eyes 
enlarge  very  much,  their 
throats  and  stomachs  bit i'n. 
their  faces  flush,  and  their 
bodies  get  as  red  as  those 
of  boiled  lobsters.  Indeed, 
they  look  just  as  if  they 
had  an  attack  of  scarlet 
fever.  They  grow  very 
weak,  and  soon  begin  to  be 
delirious;  that  is  to  say. 
they  talk,  laugh,  sing, 
cry,  scream,  tear  the  bed- 
clothes, toss  and  roll,  and 
grow  perfectly  wild,  while 
a  hot  fever  rages.  Some 
times  convulsions  (fits) 
follow,  until  at  last,  worn  ATROPA  BELLADONNA. 


uiTuliKK  H,  1883. 


IIAPvPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


773. 


out  with  pain  and  suffering,  they  find  rest  and  peace  in 
death. 

This  is  why  it  is  so  very  important  that  every  boy  and 
girl  who  wanders  in  the  fields  and  woods  should  learn  to 
know  this  handsome  and  terribly  dangerous  villain  who 
lurks  in  the  cool  and  shady  places,  and  that  so  temptingly 
nHVrs  them  his  gaudy  flowers  and  purple,  death-dealing 
fruit.  And  from  him,  too,  they  may  at  the  same  time 
learn  the  much-worn,  but  very  useful  adage,  that  appear- 
ances are  but  too  often  deceptive,  and  that  some  of  the 
most  wicked  and  dangerous  men  and  tilings  in  this  life 
are  often  the  most  pleasant  to  look  upon,  the  most  enter- 
taining in  their  speech,  and  the  most  tempting  in  the 
promised  pleasures  they  hold  forth. 


TOM   FAIR  \YK.\TllKi;    IN   XANXIBAR. 

BY  LIf:UTEXANT  E.  W   STIHDY. 

\THKN.at  home,  Tom  Fairweal her  had  sung  of  hou 
"Tin-  spii'V  Invc'/c'S   I. low  soft  oVr  (V\]..n's   Me." 

there  had  always  I n  a  jumble  in  his  mind  of  Aladdin's 

wonderful  lamp  and  roc's  eggs  and  these  same  spicy  breezes 
aforesaid  as  all  included  in  the  one  series  of  marvellous 
tales.  Bill  when  the  good  ship  Xf/itiini1  steamed  into 
Zanzibar  Harbor,  Tom  became  aware  that  there  existed  in 
fact  breezes  spice-laden  and  fragrant. 

A  soft  wind  was  blowing  over  the  groves  of  spice  ti'ees 
lining  the  shores,  robbing  them  of  Iheir  perfume,  which 
it  wafted  abroad,  the  strong  essence  of  cloves  being  espe- 
cially distinct. 

Tom,  from  the  deck  of  the  Xc/i/init'  ll  have  never  told 
von  before,  young  people,  that  his  father's  ship  was  the 
Ni'ptnnt',  but  I  now  make  the  name  formally  known  to 
von),  ga/.ed  with  pleased  eyes  on  the  brilliant  coloring  of 
the  shores  between  which  the  ship's  course  lay.  Hows  of 
spice  trees  were  broken  here  and  there  by  groups  of  stately 
palms,  and  by  the  rich  dark  green  foliage  of  the  mango, 
these  trees  crowning  the  higher  land,  against  which  they 
grew  in  gradual  ascent.  Lower  down  large  plains  were 
planted  with  sugar-cane,  mixed  with  pat'-hes  of  grain  and 
with  wonderful  groves  of  cocoa-nut.  Where  the  water  line 
met  the  sand  of  the  shore  it  shone  like  a  silver  girdle  in 
the  sunlight,  dividing  the  kingdoms' of  land  and  water. 


A     ZAN/IISAI;     lio'i 

I 'ci-h a ps  he  would  not  have  noticed  all  these  points,  or.. 
at  all  events,  would  not  have  been  aware  that  he  was  do- 
ing so,  bad  it  not  been  that  he  was  standing  at  the  hack, 
of  Mr.  Jollytarre's  chair,  who,  as  they  approached  Zan/i- 
bar.  was  making  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  scene  in  water-colors. 
(  )bser\  ation  is  a  good  habit,  which  does  not  always  come 
naturally  to  young  people,  but  it  is  often  quickened  by  try- 
ing to  make  a  sketch  yourself,  or  watching  some  friend 
sketch  a  charming  landscape  or  a  striking  building. 


THE    CITY    OF    ZANZIBAR. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"How  do  you  think  I've  hit  it  off,  Tom?"  asked  the 
Lieutenant,  holding  his  sketch  off  at  arm's-length. 
hard  to  do  justice  to  the  coloring,  you  see.  There's  all 
that  varied  foliage  011  the  highlands,  then  that  square  of 
yellow  grain,  and  that  bit  of  sugar-cane.  That  water  is 
too  hlue.  I'll  wash  in  more  white.  Is  that  better  ?'' 

"It's  splendid!''  cried  Tom,  enthusiastically.  "It 
couldn't  be  more  like  if  you  had  photographed  it." 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  it."  said  Mr.  Jolly tarre,  putting  back 
his  picture  iii  his  portfolio.  Then  he  waved  his  hand 
ahead.  "But  there's  a  scene  that  denes  me.  Tom.  Did 
you  ever  see  anything  like  that  '>" 

Tom  looked  ahead  too,  and  beheld  a  fairy  city  rising 
above  the  horizon,  apparently  miles  away.  Near  by  were 
large  white  houses  with  flat  roofs  and  plenty  of  windows 
ail  every-day  affair  enough ;  but  there  was  an  extraordi- 
nary unreality  about  the  city  in  the  distance.  Tom  rubbed 
his  "eyes.  "Am  I  dreaming?''  he  asked.  "That  place1 
we  are  coming  to  doesn't  look  like  anything  I  ever  saw 
before." 

"  It's  the  mirage." 
"Mirage  ?" 

"Yes;  the  most  uncanny  atmospheric  effects  are  pro- 
duced by  mirage.  Fairy-land  could  not  be  stranger  than 
this  one,  could  it  ?" 

"Look  at  those  tremendously  tall  ships  lying  in  the 
harbor." 

"And  those  'airy  fairy'  palaces  built  without  founda- 
tions." 

"And  those  banners,  Mr.  Jolly  tarre,  how  they  come 
and  go,  change  and  disappear!  But  how  real  those  arch- 
es look !  And  do  you  see  those  terraces  ?  It  is  impossi- 
ble that  they  are  a  delusion." 

"Nevertheless,  that  is  what  they  are,  'the  unsubstan- 
tial fabric  of  a  dream,'  and  so  are  those  gardens.  You 
need  never  say  that  you  have  not  seen  castles  in  the  air. 
I  don't  believe  any  boy  ever  had  a  better  sight  of  them." 

The  Neptune  went  on  her  course,  and  the  wonderful 
vision  gradually  dissolved  upon  a  nearer  approach.  The 
tall  phantom  ships  shrunk  into  something  not  a  third  so 
tall  and  stately.  The  trailing  gigantic  banners  resolved 
themselves  into  the  consular  flags  of  America,  England, 
France,  and  Germany.  The  lovely  arches  and  graceful 
terraces  became,  on  nearer  approach,  groups  of  houses, 
which  looked  like  palaces  at  a  distance,  but  were  more  like 
pig-sties  on  a  close  acquaintance. 

"We  are  not  more  than  thirty  miles  from  the  main- 
land of  Africa,  are  we  .'"  asked  Tom,  having  gradually  re- 
alized the  scene. 

"  About  that.  The  sovereignty  of  Zanzibar  comprises 
these  islands,  of  which  the  three  largest  are  Pemba,  Zan- 
zibar, and  Mom  fa.  Besides,  there  is  a  territory  on  the 
mainland  extending  from  about  ten  degrees  south  latitude 
to  about  two  degrees  south  latitude,  not  to  speak  of  a  chain 
of  trading  stations,  more  or  less  obedient  to  the  Sultan,  ex- 
tending inland  almost  a  thousand  miles.  It  was  from 
Zanzibar  that  Stanley  started  when  he  made  his  journey 
across  Ai.  a." 

"  Of  what  race  are  the  inhabitants  :"  asked  Tom. 
"Arabs  for  the  most  part,  whose  language  is  not  Ara- 
bic but  Swahili.  There  are  natives  of  India,  who,  as  a 
rule,  are  Mohammedans,  although  some  profess  Hindoo- 
ism.  However,  the  bulk  of  the  population  of  Zanzibar 
are  negroes;  some  imported,  some  native,  some  slaves, 
siime  free.  England  takes  very  decided  measures  to  break 
up  the  traffic  in  slaves.  They  have  had  many  men-of-war 
stationed  in  these  waters  to  capture  the  dows  in  which  the 
Arabs  carry  their  slaves  from  one  port  to  another.  The 
dows  sail  very  fast,  and  it  is  not  always  easy  to  catch 
them." 

The  next  day  when  Tom  went  on  shore  he  had  an  op- 
portunity of  seeing  the  slave-market,  but  the  two  hundred 
and  fifty  slaves  he  saw  huddled  together  only  served  to 


disgust  him,  and  when  he  was  told  by  his  father  that  on 
the  day  after  the  officers  were  to  dine  with  the  Sultan,  he 
was  not  quite  sure  whether  he  would  like  to  go  or  not. 

His  father  said :  ' '  You  had  better  go  along.  Tom,  for  the 
Sultan  has  travelled,  and  picked  up  a  great  many  Euro- 
pean customs.  He  is  fond  of  entertaining,  and  will  no 
doubt  give  us  a  very  good  dinner." 

"  Yes,"  added  Mr.  Jollytarre;  "  you  will  have  no  end  of 
fun,  as  the  English  say,  and  this  will  go  far  ahead  of  any 
thing  you  have  seen  in  the  lands  of  Sultans." 

So  the  next  evening,  before  leaving  the  ship,  Tom  was 
in  quite  an  expectant  state,  especially  as,  looking  toward 
the  shore,  he  could  see  the  plaza  in  front  of  the  Sultan's 
palace  brilliantly  lighted  by  many  party-colored  lanterns. 
On  reaching  the  shore  the  party  was  met  by  officers  of 
the  palace,  accompanied  by  a  troop  of  slaves,  the  latter 
carrying  lanterns  slung  on  poles,  which  they  held  aloft  to 
light  the  wa\ . 

It  was  a  curious  and  very  pretty  sight.  The  officers  ,>f 
the  ship  and  the  palace  walked  together,  and  ahead  and  on 
either  side  slaves  were  bearing  their  huge  paper  lanterns. 
As  they  wound  their  way  through  the  narrow  streets  it  re- 
minded Tom  of  the  torch-light  processions  he  had  seen  at 
home. 

Arriving  near  the  palace,  they  found  crowds  of  natives 
assembled  to  see  the  Americans.  At  the  foot  of  the  stair 
way  the  Sultan  himself  received  his  guests  with  that  East- 
ern hospitality  which  carries  with  it  a  gentle  dignity  not 
to  be  misunderstood.  Going  up  one  flight,  they  found 
themselves  011  a  balcony  surrounding  an  inner  court,  and 
at  the  moment  of  their  appearance  a  fine  band  struck  up 
the  "Star-spangled  Banner." 

Curiously  enough,  neither  the  Sultan  nor  any  of  his 
suite  could  speak  English,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that 
the  Americans  could  not  speak  Swahili,  but  they  all  wan- 
dered through  the  various  rooms,  looking  at  the  novel  ar- 
rangements of  furniture,  and  expressing  themselves  in  a 
pantomimic  way,  until  they  were  given  to  understand  that 
dinner  awaited  them. 

On  one  side  of  the  balcony  the  table  was  laid,  and  a 
beautiful  effect  was  given  by  colored  lights  and  shining 
crystal.  The  first  thing  that  attracted  our  young  friend's 
attention  was  the  menu,  printed  on  tinted  paper  with  let- 
ters of  blue  and  gold. 

Tom  glanced  it' over,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Jollytarre,  by 
whose  side  he  had  managed  to  sit,  he  said : 

"Goodness!  what  a  lot  of  courses!  There  are  twenty- 
five  of  them.  And  do  just  notice  the  names  of  the  ices. 
Here  is  ice-cream  a  la  General  Grant,  water-ice  a  la  John 
Sherman,  and  ice  pudding  o  la  Ben  Butler.  What  a  fun- 
ny idea !  What  does  it  mean  '<" 

"I  fancy,"  replied  his  friend,  "that  the  Sultan  wishes  to 
tickle  our  palates  with  patriotic  allusions.  But,  Tom,  be 
careful  not  to  show  your  feelings  too  plainly  in  your  face. 
As  our  hosts  do  not  speak  English,  you  can  talk  freely,  but 
do  so  in  a  quiet  way." 

At  each  plate  were  two  decanters,  one  filled  with  sher- 
bet, and  the  other  with  lemonade.  Huge  dishes  of  crack- 
ed ice  were  placed  at  intervals.  Noticing  the  absence  of 
any  wine,  Tom  asked  the  reason. 

"The  Koran,  which  is  their  Bible,  forbids  the  use  of 
wine, "he  was  told. 

"Then  do  they  never  drink  wine ?" 

"Never  in  public,"  said  Jollytarre.  "I  can't  answer 
for  their  private  practices." 

Dinner  in  the  mean  time  was  going  on.  It  needed  but 
the  soup  to  show  that  the  cooking  was  in  the  hands  of 
French  artists,  and  but  a  few  courses  to  convince  Tom  and 
his  friends  that  they  were  in  for  a  long  sitting,  for,  begin- 
ning with  the  soup,  every  dish  named  on  the  menu  was 
served  separately.  Tom,  whose  naturally  healthy  appetite 
was  quickened  by  the  good  things  placed  before  him,  turn- 
ed at  last  with  a  sigh,  and  said: 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


"It  is  of  no  use:  I'll  have  to  only  pretend  to  eat,  if  I 
am  to  taste  of  the  Ben  Butler  ice  pudding.'' 

He  ate  sparingly  then,  and  listened  to  the  fine  music 
from  the  court-yard  below.  Finally,  after  two  hours  of 
dining,  and  he  had  tried  the  wonderful  ice  pudding,  all 
rose  from  the  table,  and  walked  to  a  front  room,  or  suite 
of  rooms,  facing  the  plaza. 

The  Sultan  and  Captain  Fail-weather  stepped  to  a  little 
balcony,  which  was  a  signal  evidently  to  some  one  below, 
for  immediately  there  was  a  blaze  of  fire-works. 

The  plaza  was  the  scene  of  a  most  brilliant  display,  and 
the  crowds  of  natives  gave  forth  a  shout  that  was  deaf- 
cuing.  Rockets  Hew  in  every  direction.  Roman  candles 
shot  out  blazing  stars,  and  beautiful  views  in  lire  appear- 
ed from  the  darkness.  It  was  beautiful  and  unexpected. 
The  older  ones  were  as  pleased  as  Tom,  while  the  Suit  an  was 
evidently  gratified  with  the  success  of  his  entertainment. 

But  the  time  came  to  thank  the  Sultan  with  expressive 
gestures  and  depart. 

As  they  passed  through  the  door  leading  from  the  re- 
ception-room, an  officer  stood  with  a  huge  bottle  of  attar 
of  roses,  and  taking  the  handkerchief  from  each  guest, 
fairly  saturated  it  with  that  most  valuable  perfume.  Tom 
said  afterward  that  he  thought  his  room  on  board  would 
smell  of  attar  of  roses  until  he  readied  home.  They  re- 
t  urned  to  their  boats  with  the  same  ceremony  as  they  had 
walked  to  the  palace,  slaves,  and  lanterns,  and  all.  Tom, 
lying  back  in  the  boat,  remarked,  sleepily  : 

"He  is  the  best  Sultan  yet." 


DICK     AND     D/ 


BY     LUCY    C.    LILLIE, 


Aullior    ot 


•  Mil.lri-cl's     1  liii  —  niii,"1    **  X:in,"    otc. 


(  HAI'TKi;  XIII. 
NORRY  GROWS  CONFIDENTIAL. 

WHILE  Dick  was  plodding  along  the  country  road, 
Norry  and  the  dog  were  having  a  very  cozy  time  of  it. 

Nancy  Barlow,  for  that  was  her  name,  made  the  little 
boy  very  comfortable,  and  as  she  did  her  morning  work 
chatted  pleasantly  with  him.  She  took  up  her  father's 
breakfast,  and  then  sat  down  to  eat  her  own,  and  Norry 
liked  to  hear  the  sort  of  cheerful  clatter  she  made.  Be- 
fore noon  he  felt  on  very  friendly  terms  with  his  hostess, 
and  had  already  given  her  the  outlines  of  his  history. 

"And  who  does  your  brother  feel  afraid  will  get  hold 
of  you?"  Nancy  asked,  with  a  kind,  pitying  look,  which 
would  have  comforted  Norry  could  he  have  seen  it. 

Norry  told  her  in  his  childish  way  about  Gurdlc.  and 
of  Dick's  idea  that  an  attempt  was  to  be  made  upon  Dr. 
Field's  house. 

"Well,  I  never!"  said  Nancy.  "  I'd  like  to  catch  him 
coming  round  here.  Now,  Norry, "  she  added,  ' '  s'pose  you 
come  up  and  sit  with  father  for  a  little,  while  I  just  run 
next  door.  I  want  to  see  some  one." 

Norry,  in  his  usual  obedient  way,  allowed  himself  to 
be  conducted  upstairs  to  the  large  airy  room  where  the 
sick  man  lay  in  bed,  propped  up  by  many  pillows.  Nancy 
put  the  little  boy  and  Trusty  on  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
then  went  down-stairs  again.  In  a  few  moments,  with 
her  :,hawl  over  her  head,  she  had  run  out  and  down  the 
road  to  the  next  house.  There  was  a  carpenter's  shop  at- 
tached to  it,  and  inside  a  young  man  was  busily  at  work, 
whistling  "Nancy  Lee." 

"Here  I  be,"  said  Nancy  Barlow,  looking  in  with  a 
laugh.  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  bit,  Joel.  Can  you 
stop  work  '<" 

*  Begun  in  No.  199.  HARPER'S  YOCNG  PEOPLE. 


"Of  course  I  can,  seeing  who  asks  me  to."  the  young 
man  answered,  heartily.  "Come  in  and  sit  down, 
Nancy." 

He  cleared  a  bench  of  some  shavings,  and  Nancy,  doing 
as  she  was  bid,  told  the  young  man  Dick  and  Norry'sstory. 

"I'd  like  to  know!"  was  his  comment.  "Well,  now, 
I  wonder  where  we  could  get  track  of  the  old  "coon." 

"This  child,  you  see,  is  blind,"  Nancy  said,  with  great 
energy.  "But  he  knows  that  his  brother  overheard  the 
men  plotting  for  the  seventeenth,  that's  to-morrow  night, 
and  he  knows  it's  a  Dr.  Field,  of  Marplains." 

"  Dr.  Field !"  exclaimed  Joel.  "Why,  I  'mow  him  very 
well.  At  least  I  know  his  grandson,  Dick  Dearing,  over  to 
Barnabas.  I  mended  his  boat  last  summer.  Well,  I 
wonder  if  I  hadn't  best  go  up  to  Marplains  myself." 

"  Oh.  Joel !"  said  Nancy.  "  how  good  you  always  are !" 

Joel's  plain  kindly  face  turned  very  red,  but  he  looked 
well  pleased,  and  then  he  and  Nancy  hastened  to  plan  the 
next  move. 

"The  boy's  gone  on. "she  said;  "like's  not.  as  he's 
walking,  he  hasn't  got  there.  But  it'll  be  a  good  thing 
for  you  to  go  too.  Can  you  spare  the  time,  sure,  Joel  ?" 

Joel  cast  a  look  of  regret  at  his  work.  "Oh  yes,"  he 
said,  brightly.  "  I  don't  see  as  it  would  be  right  not  to  go, 
Nancy;  we  can't  turn  our  back  011  duty  the  Lord  sends." 

Nancy  stood  a  miimle  watching  Joel  put  up  his  tools, 
and  then  she  went  back  to  her  own  house,  thinking  what 
a  comfort  it  would  be  if  she  had  just  such  a  brother.  In 
a  few  minutes  Joel,  on  his  way  to  Marplains,  looked  in  at 
the  kitchen  door,  nodding  good-by  to  Nancy,  and  casting 
a  glance  full  of  pity  upon  Norry 's  little  figure. 

Could  Dick  have  seen  him  just  then  he  would  have  felt 
very  well  satisfied.  The  warmth  and  good  cheer  of  Nan- 
cy's kitchen  had  already  comforted  the  blind  boy,  filling 
him  with  a  grateful  sense  of  unusual  happiness  in  his 
surroundings.  Norry  did  not  know  when  he  had  been  so 
happy,  and  the  climax  of  the  day's  comfort  seemed  reach- 
ed when,  about  two  o'clock,  a  tine  plateful  of  stew  and  roast 
potatoes  was  put  before  him,  and  Nancy,  stooping  down  to 
give  the  boy  a  quick  kiss  on  his  forehead,  told  him  that 
Trusty  was  having  a  "splendid  bone"  on  the  hearth.  Oh, 
if  only  Dick  and  "  Master  Dick"  could  have  been  there! 

UIAl'TEK  XIV. 
JOEL  TELLS  HIS  STORY. 

"  BARBARA,  what  are  you  doing  ?" 

"  Only  looking  out  of  the  window,  aunt — watching  for 
Cousin  Maud." 

"Well,  watching  won't  bring  her  any  quicker.  Why 
don't  you  take  your  book  '." 

"  I'm  tired  reading,  and  I  like  to  look  out  of  the  window." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  oddest  child  !" 

Mrs.  Thomason  seemed  more  contented  after  she  had 
said  this.  At  all  events,  she  made  110  further  attempts  to 
j  bring  Barbara  from  the  window. 

The  room  was  the  library  at  the  Cedars,  Dr.  Field's 
country  house,  and  for  an  hour  while  Mrs.  Thomason 
dozed  over  the  fire,  little  Barbara  had  sat  perched  in  tin- 
window,  looking  out  across  the  leafless  gardens  to  the 
strip  of  country  road  along  which  she  expected  moment- 
arily to  see  Cousin  Maud  appearing  in  the  pony-carriage. 

The  family  had  spent  a  fortnight  at  the  Cedars,  and 
were  to  return  to  New  York  the  following' day,  the  seven- 
teenth, with  the  exception  of  the  Doctor,  who  was  to  spend 
that  night  alone  at  Marplains.  Barbara  was  not  sorry  to 
go  back  to  town,  for  the  Cedars,  without  Dick,  was  rather 
lonely  for  the  little  girl. 

It  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  gray  stone  mansion,  with 
a  wide  hall  in  the  centre,  and  a  beautiful  staircase  with 
a  window  on  the  first  landing.  Everything  in  it  was 
the  perfection  of  comfort  and  warmth  and  brightness, 
but  to  Barbara  on  this  day  it  seemed  very  lonely.  If 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


only  Cousin  Maud  would  come!  Just  as  the  little  girl 
had  said  this  to  herself  for  the  twentieth  time,  she  saw  the 
ponies'  heads,  then  the  carriage  with  Cousin  Maud  in  it, 
come  hriskly  up  the  road.  But  Maud  was  not  alone.  A 
tall  young  man  was  sitting  heside  her  whom  Barbara  had 
never  seen. 

Maud  let  herself  in  by  the  side  entrance,  and  Barbara, 
who  had  run  out  into  the  hall,  saw  at  once  that  she  was 
looking  very  anxious  and  excited.  The  strange  man  fol- 
lowed her  closely. 

''  Oh,  Cousin  Maud !"  the  little  girl  had  just  time  to  ex- 
claim, when  her  cousin  said,  quickly,  but  in  a  low  tone: 

"Barbara,  don't  say  anything  about  this  gentleman's 
being  here.  He  has  come  to  see  grandpapa  on  business." 

Barbara  stared  a  moment.  Then  she  heard  Maud  say, 
"Come  this  way,  if  you  please,  sir,"  to  the  man,  as  she 
led  him  down  the  hall  toward  Dr.  Field's  study. 

The  Doctor's  quiet  voice  said,  "Come  in,"  and  leaving 


•THIS    IS    A    MOST    EXTRAORDINARY    STORY.' 


Barbara  still  silent  with  amazement,  Cousin  Maud  and  the 
stranger  disappeared  behind  the  door. 

Dr.  Field  was  busy  over  his  books,  as  usual,  but  he  saw 
at  once  that  Maud  had  something  important  to  say,  as  she 
came  swiftly  toward  him. 

"  Grandpapa,"  she  said  at  once,  "I  met  this  gentleman 
on  the  road  coming  here.  His  name  is  Mr.  Joel  Potter, 
and  he  has  come  to  tell  you  something  very  important." 

And  then  Nancy's  messenger— for  it  was  he— stepped 
forward  and  told  his  story. 

Dr.  Field  listened  in  profound  amazement,  looking  from 
Joel's  honest,  blushing  face  to  Maud's  sweet,  earnest  coun- 
tenance, evidently  not  at  once  taking  in  just  what  it  all 
meant.  Finally  Maud  asked, 

"But  the  boy,  grandpapa,  poor  little  Dick— he  has  not 
been  here  ?" 

He  answered  quickly:  "No,  no;  the  hoy  has  never  ap- 
peared. This  is  a  most  extraordinary  story.  I  am  ereat 


ly  obliged  to  you,  sir.  Dear!  dear!  what  had  better  be 
done  ?"  He  looked  appealingly  at  Maud,  who,  as  usual, 
had  thought  of  prompt  measures. 

"  Why.  I  think  we  ought  to  try  and  find  the  boy,  grand- 
papa— don't  you  ?  That  awful  man  Gurdle  may  have  got 
him  again.  And  Brooks:  he  is  in  town,  isn't  he.  and  you 
were  expecting  him  here  to-morrow  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  was  by  this  time  fully 
roused  to  the  importance  of  the  occasion.  "I  can  hardly 
believe  it  of  him.  Still,  we  must  act  on  it." 

They  discussed  the  question  a  few  minutes  longer,  all 
deciding  that  great  caution  would  be  necessary.  It  now 
seemed  plain  that  Brooks  had  supplied  Gurdle  with  the 
information  that  on  the  following' night  the  Doctor  would 
be  the  only  member  of  the  family  at  Marplains,  and  that  he 
would  have  a  large  sum  of  money  in  his  room.  Brooks,  of 
course,  could  admit  the  robbers,  but  it  remained  a  mystery 
what  use  the  Deviiie  boys  were  to  be,  put  to.  And  where 

was  Dick  all  these  hours  ? 
The  Doctor's  tender  heart 
began  to  assert  itself  in  pity 
for  the  poor  orphan  of 
whom  he  had  been  so  ready 
to  believe  evil,  and  Maud 
would  have  rushed  off  her- 
self in  pursuit  of  him  had 
not  Joel  suggested  a  better 
plan.  He  ottered  to  go  at 
once,  following  the  road 
carefully,  and  making  in- 
quiries on  every  side.  Then 
he  suggested  that  perhaps 
he  might  have  the  loan  of 
a  horse  and  wagon  to  aid 
him  in  his  search. 

The  Doctor  readily  con- 
sented to  this,  and  Maud 
hastened  to  see  about  some 
refreshment  for  their  unex- 
pected guest.  A  long'  time 
afterward  Joel  Potter  used 
to  describe  the  beautiful 
dining-room  at  the  Cedars, 
where  Miss  Field  herself 
waited  on  him,  giving  him 
.such  a  delicious  lunch,  such 
a  fragrant  cup  of  tea.  and 
all  off  such  beautiful  dishes. 
While  he  ate,  Maud 
heard  all  about  Nancy  and 
her  father,  and  how  good 
he  was  sure  she  was  to  her 
little  blind  guest. 

"She's   allays   been   the 
best  girl  anywheres  around 

our  way,"  Joel  said,  with  enthusiasm,  "and   she  keeps 
things  goin'  for  the  old  man  out  of  'most  nothing." 

Miss  Maud  was  greatly  interested,  and  declared  that, 
when  this  strange  affair  was  settled.  Joel  should  bring 
Nancy  to  the  Cedars  to  spend  a  long  day. 

"Well,  ma'am,"  Joel  said,  standing  up,  "it's  getting 
pretty  dark,  and  I  guess  I'd  better  be  starting." 

It  was  indeed  quite  dark  by  this  time— so  much  so  that, 
as  Joel  was  about  to  get  into  the  wagon  the  Doctor  had 
ordered,  he  did  not  at  first  see  that  a  horse  and  buggy  had 
dashed  up  the  drive,  arid  that  a  boyish  figure  had  sprung 
out,  and  now  stood  on  the  door-step.  Maud  had  not  as 
yet  closed  the  door,  and  as  she  stood  peering  out  into  the 
gloomy  evening  she  suddenly  saw  the  round  rosy  face  of 
Dick  Bearing,  and  heard  him  exclaim, 

"Oh,  Cousin  Maud !  Such  a  jolly  row  as  there's  been ! 
Where's  grandpa  ?  I've  such  a  lot  to  tell  him." 

[TO    BE    CONTIXIKD.] 


OCTOBER  9,  1883. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


777 


/  ' 


m 


•T 


r 


NoTKS  FOR  THE  YOUNG  HUNTER 

I!  Y    \V  I  I.  I,    WOO  DM  A  N 


> 

-V 


I.— THE  Gf.Y 

A  GUN !      Where  is  there  a  hoy  who  can  not  con 
jure  up  more  delightful  fancies  at  the  thought 
of  a  gun  than  ever  magician,  though  it  were  Mer- 
lin   himself,  could   do  with   his    wand  ?      There    is 
something,  it  must  he  confessed,  in  the  noise 
it  can  make,  more  yet  in  its  destroying  power, 
lint  the  main  thing  is  the.  masterful  feeling  a 
boy  has  when  he  holds  in  his  hands  :i  weapon 
which    seems    to    overcome 
both  time  and  space. 

And  no  doubt  it    has  al- 
ways been   so 
since  the  first         ^— • — 
gun    was    in-        f      .,'»-'. A 

,1  .\V  >;-•,>  a 

vented,  crude 
and  unfaith- 
ful as  that 
machine  must 
have  been.  To 
go  no  fur- 
ther back  than 
when  I  was  a 
boy,  I  know 
I  was  fairly 
beside  myself 
with  joy  when, 
after  what 
seemed  to  me 
ages  of  long- 
ing and  wist- 
ful eying  on 
my  part,  my 
grandfather, 
with  great  de- 
liberation and 
respect,  took 
down  his  old 


j^lagKfcil 


,/. 


36 


m 


HI 


78 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


flint-lock  rifle  from  over  the  great  fire-place,  and  called 
me  to  him.  My  heart  heat  a  tattoo  on  my  ribs  when  he 
said : 

''My  hoy,  do  you  think  you  can  take  aim  with  that?'' 

Could  I  ?  Well,  it  was  pretty  heavy,  but  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  failing  when  I  knew  possession  depended 
upon  accomplishing  it. 

"Very  well  done,  indeed!"  exclaimed  he,  as  I  raised 
the  old  gun  to  my  shoulder  and  squinted  with  delight 
along  the  barrel. 

And  why  should  I  not  have  done  it  well  ?  Had  I  not 
passed  many  an  hour  practicing  the  same  manoeuvre  with 
a  crowbar,  in  the  expectation  of  some  day  being  put  to  this 
very  test  ?  Then  he  taught  mo  how  to  load,  and  how  to 
prime,  and  how  to  do  a  great  many  more  tilings  besides, 
which  boys  nowadays  have  no  need  to  know,  for  happily 
flint-locks  and  muzzle-loaders  have  seen  their  day. 

After  a  while  I  was  promoted  from  a  flint-lock  rifle  to  a 
musket  that  used  caps,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  used 
shot  instead  of  a  bullet.  Goodness!  how  the  shot  did 
scatter!  I  verily  believe  I  could  have  stood  only  ton 
paces  away,  and  yet  have  scattered  over  the  whole  of  the 
barn  door.  Next  came  my  beloved  double-barrelled  shot- 
gun. I  bought  it  with  money  earned  by  selling  musk- 
rat  skins,  captured  after  many  is,  chilly  night's  watching 
by  the  mill-dam. 

I  thought  then  that  no  gun  could  ever  be  made  to  equal 
it,  and  I  am  sure  now  that  no  other  gun  can  possibly 
give  me  the  same  pleasure  that  this  one  did.  However,  I 
gave  up  using  it  some  time  ago,  though  I  take  as  good 
care  of  it  as  ever  I  did,  and  it  occupies  the  place  of  honor 
on  my  rack.  Now  I  have  a  modern  breech-loader;  and 
as  I  write  I  find  myself  keeping  one  eye  oil  it  most  of  the 
time,  for  word  has  come,  just  as  it  used  to  when  I  was  a 
boy,  that  the  shooting  season  is  here. 

Do  I  need  to  tell  you  how  the  word  came  ?  I  think 
not.  You  and  I  have  glanced  out  of  the  window  and 
seen  the  shocks  of  corn,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  an 
Indian  village  sprung  into  sudden  life.  We  have  seen 
the  lazy  summer  glide  away,  and  the  timid  autumn, 
blushing  to  the  very  tips  of  her  leaves,  steal  rustling  for- 
ward. The  stars  have  begun  to  sparkle  with  a  crisper 
light,  and  merry  Jack  Frost  has  used  his  brown  paint  on 
the  seed  clover  and  the  wheat-grass. 

Oh!  we  know  the  signs — you  and  I.  Did  I  not  see  you 
this  very  morning  tap  on  the  old  hickory-tree,  and  then 
look  up  at  the  well-known  hole  to  see  Master  Squirrel's 
bright  eyes  peer  out  ?  And  did  you  not  deceive  even  wily 
old  Father  Partridge  with  your  well-whistled  call  of  "Bob 
White!  Bob,  Bob  White"?  I  know  the  delight  with 
which  you  listened  to  his  cautious,  half-broken  answer. 

You  and  I  may  call  ourselves  sportsmen,  I  fancy;  for, 
since  you  know  the  signs  and  rejoice  in  them,  it  is  because 
you  respect  them.  I  am  sure  you  would  not  kill  a  bird  or 
any  kind  of  game  out  of  season,  because  you  know  that  to 
iln  so  would  be  to  obtain  for  yourself  an  animal  _iinfit  for 
food,  and  that  the  act  would  be  one  of  heartless  cruelty, 
for  the  ivuson  that  it  would  be  depriving  a  family  of  little 
ones  of  needed  support.  In  season  the  little  ones  can  pro- 
vide for  themselves,  because,  as  Paddy  would  say,  they 
.".iv  not  little  at  all  any  more,  but  big. 

Have  you  a  gun  ?  If  you  have,  do  you  respect  it  ?  If 
you  do  respect  it,  it  will  be  a  faithful  servant;  but  if  you 
do  not,  you  may  expect  to  have  it  miss  fire  or  fire  too  soon, 
you  may  look  for  distressing  accidents  from  it,  and  you 
will  never  love  it  as  every  true  sportsman  does  love  his 
gun. 

A  gun  is  a  perfectly  safe  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  care- 
ful boy  who  will  follow  a  few  simple  rules.  It  should 
always  be  remembered  that  the  only  safe  end  of  a  gun, 
loaded  or  unloaded,  is  the  butt,  and  that  the  muzzle  end 
should  never  be  pointed  at  anything  which  it  is  not  in- 
tended to  shoot.  Sometimes  even  the  butt  end  is  not  quite 


pleasant  to  be  at,  as  the  Irishman  found  who  shot  a  heavi- 
ly loaded  musket  at  a  squirrel. 

"Bedad,  me  foine  frind."  said  he,  as  he  saw  the  little 
fellow  clamber  spryly  up  a  tree,  while  he  measured  his 
length  on  the  ground ;  ' '  yez  wouldn't  be  shkippin'  so  lively 
if  oi'd  had  yez  at  this  hid.  o'  me  gun  !" 

The  gun  should  always  be  carried  with  the  muzzle 
pointing  downward,  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  de- 
grees to  the  body.  It  should  never  be  used  as  a  cane  or 
to  aid  in  climbing  a  fence.  It  will  be  much  safer,  in  fact, 
nut  to  have  the  gun  in  the  hands  at  all  when  climbing. 
Never  help  a  companion  up  a  steep  place,  or  any  other 
place,  by  letting  him  take  one  end  of  your  gun  while  you 
hold  the  other  end.  In  short,  always  bear  in  mind  that 
the  only  use  for  a  gun  is  to  shoot  with,  and  that  to  put  it 
to  any  other  use  is  to  invite  accident. 

While  the  gun  is  in  use  it  should  be  wiped  night  and 
morning,  inside  and  out,  with  porpoise-oil,  sperm-cil,  or 
vaseline,  and  then  should  be  rubbed  dry  with  a  piece  of 
cotton  flannel.  If  by  the  sea-shore,  where  the  air  is  laden 
with  moisture,  this  precaution  is  particularly  necessary. 
When  the  gun  is  put  away  for  the  season,  it  should  be  still 
more  carefully  cleaned  and  rubbed  witli  oil,  and  then 
wiped  dry  before  putting  in  the  case.  Never  leave  the 
gun  smeared  with  oil,  and  by  no  means  follow  a  common 
but  bad  practice  of  plugging  the  barrels  with  cotton  satu- 
rated with  oil. 

The  best  oil  for  use  on  a  gnu  is  sperm-oil  which  has  been 
treated  in  the  following  simple  manner:  fill  a  cup  with 
the  oil,  and  drop  about  a  spoonful  of  melted  lead  into  it. 
This  will  remove  all  acid  from  the  oil. 

It  may  be  well  to  say  here  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
a  good,  cheap  gun.  (rood  single-barrelled  breech-loading 
guns,  varying  from  *12  to  &20  apiece,  are  known  as  Fore- 
hand &  Wadsworth,  Henry  Richards,  Stevens,  Phoenix, 
and  American  Semi-Hammerless.  Double-barrelled  guns 
— Le  Fancheux,  Bonebill,  Northcote,  Colt,  Kemington, 
and  Parker.  These  guns  can  be  bought  for  from  si.1  to 
850  each. 

THE  CAPTAIN'S  LESSON. 

A    STORY    OF   THE   SOUTHERN*    SEAS.- 
BY  DAVID  KER. 

LAND  on  the  weather  bow!"  shouted  the  lookout  at 
the  foremast-head  of  the  Vrouw  Katerina. 

"That  must  be  St.  Helena  at  last,''  chuckled  the  Cup- 
tain  to  himself.  "Good!  Now  we'll  land  two  passen- 
gers at  once!" 

When  Captain  Matthias  Evertsen  chuckled  in  that  way, 
it  always  meant  mischief  to  somebody;  and  you  would 
have  said,  looking  at  his  short  thickset  figure,  and  hard, 
coarse,  low-browed  face,  that  he  could  be  a  very  ugly  cus- 
tomer if  he  liked. 

Like  all  the  Dutch  captains  of  that  time,  he  was  a  first- 
rate  seaman,  and  as  brave  as  a  lion  ;  but,  like  far  too  many 
of  them,  he  could  be  terribly  cruel  to  any  one  who  otl'end 
ed  him,  which  was  only  too  easily  done. 

Two  hundred  years  ago,  when  a,  voyage  to  the  East  In- 
dies and  back  often  took  twenty  months  or  more,  the  cap- 
tain of  a  merchantman  in  the  Eastern  seas  could  do  pret 
ty  much  what  he  liked.  To  drag  a  man  under  the  keel 
of  a  ship,  or  keep  him  in  irons  for  three  days  or  so  with- 
out food,  was  the  commonest  thing  possible.  It  was  a 
common  saying  in  those  days  that  there  was  no  law  be- 
yond the  Line ;  and  when  a  captain  murdered  two  or  three 
of  his  crew,  or  when  a  crew  mutinied  and  murdered  their 
captain,  no  one  at  home  troubled  himself  much  about  it. 

When  Evertsen  spoke  of  landing  tiro  passengers,  any- 
one who  had  heard  him  would  have  wondered  what  lie 

*  Tliis  story  is  perfectly  true,  and  gives  a  pretty  correct  picture  of  sea- 
life  in  the  seventeenth  century. — D.  K. 


OCTOBER  n,  1SS3. 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


779 


meant.  The  only  passenger  aboard,  an  old  Dutch  mer- 
chant from  Java,  had  just  died,  and  it  was  natural  enough 
to  wish  to  bury  him  oil  land ;  but  who  could  the  other  pas- 
senger be  *  We  shall  see  presently. 

Larger  and  larger,  darker  and  darker,  loomed  out 
against  the  bright  evening  sky  the  huge  black  cliffs  of 
tlic  lonely  islet,  one  day  to  be  world-famous  as  the  last 
prison  of  Napoleon.  But  at  that  time  it  was  still  unin- 
habited, and  a  drearier  or  a  more  desolate  spot  could  scarce- 
ly have  been  found  upon  the  face  of  the  earth. 

At  length,  just  as  the  sea  was  all  ablaze  with  the  glory 
of  the  sunset,  the  ship  anchored  close  inshore,  and  Captain 
Evertsen,  ordering  his  boat  to  be  got  ready,  went  below, 
and  putting  his  head  into  a  dark,  narrow  hutch  between- 
decks,  called  out,  with  one  of  his  ugly  chuckles: 

"Now,  Van  Doorp,  my  boy,  rouse  up,  and  get  ready  to 
go  ashore." 

A  big.  sullen-looking  man.  whose  swollen  and  blood- 
stained forehead  showed  that  he  must  have  "offended" 
the  Captain  in  some  way,  rose  sulkily  at  the  call. 

Meanwhile  the  boat  had  been  lowered,  and  Ilie  Dutch 
merchant's  eollin  put  into  it.  Van  Door])  was  then  or- 
d.Ted  in  likewise,  and  the  boat  pulled  for  llie  shore. 

"Now.  my  lads,"  cried  the  Captain,  "quick,  and  put 
Mr.  Van  Doorp  and  his  friend  ashore.  He'll  have  a 
whole  island  to  himself,  and  the  other  gentleman  will  be 
nice  quiet  company." 

Even  the  rough  seamen  stood  aghast  at  this  relinemeiit 
of  cruelty,  which  doomed  a  living  man  to  perish  by  inch- 
es, with  a  corpse  for  Ills  only  companion.  The  unl'ortii 
nate  sailor  knew  his  commander  too  well  to  plead  for 
mercy;  but  as  the  boat  began  to  recede  i'rom  the  shore  In- 
spiring upon  a  rock,  and  shouted: 

"  You  won't  get  rid  of  me  so  easily,  Captain.  Mark 
my  words:  I'll  come  hack  and  haunt  you  for  this." 

Evertsen  answered  only  with  a  scornful  laugh.  A  few 
moments  later  he  wason  his  own  deck  once  more,  and  the 
fatal  island  was  soon  lost  in  the  fast-falling  shadows  of 
night,  while  the  Vrouic  Knto-iini  sped  on  her  course. 

But  although  the  Captain  laughed  at  poor  Van  Doorp's 
threat,  it  troubled  him  nevertheless.  Like  most  cruel  and 
ignorant  men,  he  was  very  superstitious,  and  believed  in 
ghosts,  witches,  spectre  ships,  mermaids,  lucky  and  un- 
lucky days,  and  other  such  absurdities,  as  lirmly  as  he  did 
in  the  ship's  compass.  It  was  long  before  he  could  get  to 
sleep  that  night,  and  when  he  did  it  was  only  to  dream 
that  he  was  being  chased  through  the  water  by  a  shark 
with  a  coffin  shaped  body  and  a  head  like  Van  Doorp's. 
Then  the  dream  changed,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  ship  it- 
self had  turned  into  a  coffin,  on  the  other  end  of  which 
Van  Doorp  was  standing  with  a  loaded  pistol,  bidding  him 
jump  overboard  or  be  shot.  About  daybreak  he  awoke, 
to  find  the  vessel  becalmed,  the  cliffs  of  St.  Helena  still 
visible,  and  his  crew  shaking  their  heads  and  muttering: 

"  It's  a  bad  lookout  to  be  becalmed  here — eh,  Hans  ;" 

"True,  Peter;  we're  in  a  bad  way  now." 

' '  You're  right,  mates :  no  luck  can  come  to  the  old  era  ft . 
with  a  dead  man's  curse  following  her.'' 

This  sudden  calm,  following  so  close  upon  his  own  evil 
deed,  seemed  to  the  troubled  Captain  a  direct  judgment 
from  Heaven.  All  day  he  wandered  about  the  deck,  rest- 
less and  miserable,  watching  for  some  sign  of  a  breeze,  but 
not  a  ripple  was  to  be  seen  on  the  smooth  surface. 

As  night  fell,  a  pale  phosphoric  light  began  to  spread 
over  the  sea,  till  far  as  eye  could  reach  it  was  all  like  one 
sheet  of  fire.  Every  spar  of  the  ship  stood  out  clearly, 
and  the  faces  of  the  crew  looked  quite  ghostly  in  the  un- 
earthly glare.  The  Captain,  too  ill  at  ease  to  go  to  bed, 
was  moodily  pacing  the  deck,  when  a  cry  of  horror  from 
his  men  made  him  turn  round,  and  he  beheld  a  strange 
and  terrible  sight. 

Eight  in  the  centre  of  this  spectral  light  the  strangest 
kind  of  a  small  craft  was  floating  toward  the  vessel.  It 


was  rowed  with  two  broken  pieces  of  wood  by  a  figure 
which,  as  it  came  nearer,  was  recognized  by  every  one  as 
that  of  Van  Doorp.  The  crew  screamed  and  ran  Kick 
like  children,  while  the  cruel  Captain  fell  on  his  knees. 
His  strange  dream  came  back  to  him.  Nearer  and  nearer 
came  the  ghostly  voyager,  till  he  was  heard  to  shout: 

' '  Ship  ahoy !     Heave  us  a  rope,  will  you  ?" 

Now  among- the  crew  was  a  reckless  Zealander,  a  special- 
crony  of  Van  Doorp.  to  whom  this  voice  sounded  so  life- 
like that  he  began  to  hope  his  old  chum  might  not  be  dead, 
after  all.  He  threw  out  a  rope,  and  the  next  moment  the 
coffin  passenger  had  scrambled  up  and  leaped  down  on 
deck. 

Tin-  thump  of  his  feet  upon  the  planking  was  so  heavy 
and  unghostly  that  even  the  terrified  Captain  felt  at  once 
that  no  spirit  could  ever  have  made  a  sound  like  that .  He 
started  up,  and  seizing  hold  of  Van  Doorp  with  both  hands 
(as  if  to  make  sure  that  he  was  really  there),  gasped  out, 

"  Tell  me  this  moment — are  you  alive  or  dead  ?" 

"  Alive,  to  be  sure."  answered  the  sailor,  laughing. 
"No  thanks  to  you.  though.  When  I  found  the  old  craft 
still  in  sight  this  morning,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  give 
myself  one  more  chance;  so  I  turned  Mynheer  Kloots  out 
of  his  cotlin.  made  paddles  out  of  the  two  halves  of  the  lid, 
and  here  I  am." 

''Here's  a  dollar  for  you,  my  lad,"  said  the  Captain, 
drawing  a  long  breath.  "Go  forward  and  take  your  old 
berth  again,  and  after  this  I'll  never  punish  any  man  with- 
out good  reason,  and  then  only  in  a  proper  way." 

And  Captain  Evertsen  kept  his  word. 


TURTLES. 

A  COMPOSITION  BY  A  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTOR. 

THE  turtle  is  one  of  the  most  ingenious  of  compound 
animals.  In  order  to  make  a  turtle  you  take  a  snake, 
a  tobacco  box,  and  four  claws  like  those  of  a  crab,  only 
you  must  slit  up  the  ends  with  the  scissors,  so  that  they 
will  look  something  like  the  teeth  of  a  comb.  Now  cut  a 
hole  through  each  end  of  the  tobacco  box  and  draw  the 
snake  through  it,  so  that  his  head  will  appear  at  one  end 
of  it  and  his  tail  at  the  other.  Then  stick  the  four  claws 
on  the  sides  of  the  box,  two  on  each  side,  and  you  will 
have  a  very  nice-looking  turtle.  Of  course  it  won't  run, 
or  eat,  or  do  anything,  because  it  won't  have  the  regular 
turtle's  works  inside  of  it.  but  it  will  look  like  a  turtle. 

This  is  not  the  way  that  real  turtles  are  made,  for  they 
are  hatched  out  all  complete,  and  with  their  works  in  per- 
fect order,  from  eggs.  Turtles'  eggs  are  made  with  soft 
shells  like  India  rubber,  and  they  are  never  sat  upon. 
Long  ago  the  turtle  found  out  that  eggs  could  be  hatched 
by  burying  them  in  the  sand.  Since  that  time  all  turtles 
leave  their  eggs  in  the  sand  to  be  hatched  by  the  heat  of 
the  sun,  and  thus  save  themselves  a  great  deal  of  trouble, 
and  give  themselves  time  to  improve  their  minds. 

The  turtle  has  a  great  deal  of  mind,  though  he  may  not 
look  as  if  he  had.  There  is  a  very  old  story  about  a  turtle 
that  ran  a  race  with  a  hare,  and  beat  him.  The  hare  could 
run  so  much  faster  than  the  turtle  that  he  stopped  on  the 
way  to  rest,  feeling  perfectly  sure  that  he  could  not  be 
beaten.  Meanwhile  the  turtle  kept  on,  and  so  reached 
the  winning-post  before  his  rival.  It  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  there  are  those  who  doubt  this  story,  and  say  that  the 
turtle  climbed  up  behind  a  farmer's  wagon,  and  so  won 
the  race  unfairly;  and  when  you  remember  that  the 
turtle  is  about  one-half  snake,  it  is  impossible  to  feel  much 
confidence  in  his  honesty. 

Turtles  are  frequently  found  with  their  initials  and  the 
date  of  their  birth  on  their  backs.  These  initials  and  dates 
are  not  put  on  by  the  turtles  themselves,  and  they  are  not 
very  trustworthy.  Any  one  who  has  a  sharp  knife  and 
who  catches  a  turtle  can  cut  letters  and  figures  on  his  back 


780 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


:  *£•  ')£;/  ':'  $->;-$  M-  '-•-  :  ^y  .^X^fec^'  A ^'7'' 
^' i',^j^^'-'^i-~"m7:i,  •;'  /;  /--•'  w/t-^1-^-  '* 


THE  TURTLE  PARTY. 


without  hurting  him.  This  is  very  often  done,  and  the 
result  is  that  a  vast  number  of  turtles  ornamented  in  this 
way  are  now  wandering-  about  the  country.  Probably 
some  thousands  have  "  G.  W.  1775"  cut  on  their  backs, 
and  people  who  find  them  imagine  that  the  turtles  are 
more  than  a  hundred  years  old,  and  were  once  ornament- 
ed by  George  Washington.  But  George  Washington  was 
too  busy  in  1775  to  meddle  with  the  backs  of  turtles.  He 
was  more  interested  in  seeing  the  backs  of  British  soldiers. 

Boys  sometimes  make  turtles  run  races.  Turtles  can 
run  over  smooth  ground  very  nicely,  but  they  can  not  jump 
fences  very  well.  It  is  of  110  use  to  encourage  turtles  to 
run  with  a  whip,  for  the  moment  you  frighten  a  turtle  he 
draws  in  his  head,  tail,  and  claws,  shuts  up  his  box.  and 
locks  it  on  the  inside.  Then  he  goes  to  sleep,  and"  is  often 
vi-rv  much  surprised  when  he  wakes  up  and  finds  himself 
put  away  in  a  table  drawer  or  in  some  one  else's  box. 

Turtles  have  for  a  long  time  been  kept  as  pets  by  ladies 
in  France.  The  turtle  is  a  very  inoffensive  pet.  He  sel- 
dom keeps  the  neighbors  awake  by  barking  at  night,  or 
by  singing  011  the  back  fence  like  ill-bred  cats.  He  never 
tears  the  curtains,  and  never  gets  on  the  dining- table,  or 
steals  milk  and  meat  out  of  the  kitchen.  All  he  requires 
in  order  to  be  comfortable  is  a  few  flies,  and  as  there  are 
a  great  many  spare  flies  in  all  dwelling-houses,  he  catches 
as  many  as  he  cares  to  eat. 

In  this  country  the  turtle  has  lately  become  quite  a  fash- 
ionable pet,  and  is  often  dressed  in  gay  clothes  and  in- 
troduced into  the  very  best  society.  Not  long  ago  some 
young  ladies  in  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  who  have  pet 
tin-ties,  got  up  a  "turtle  party."  It  was  quite  a  brilliant 
affair.  Considerable  time  and  expense  had  been  lavished 


upon  the  turtles  to  make  them  appear  well  and  attractive 
for  the  occasion.  One  aristocratic  Miss  Turtle,  called. 
Venus,  was  not  able  to  attend,  although  her  party  tlress 
was  made  and  in  readiness  for  the  occasion.  T\vo  of  the 
turtles  were  dressed  in  the  most  elaborate  style,  one  hav- 
ing' on  a  magnificent  white  silk  dress,  with  train  profuse- 
ly trimmed  with  gold  embroidery.  Another  belle  wore  a 
dress  of  white  plush,  trimmed  with  blue  satin  and  lace,  the 
train  being  looped  with  white  daisies.  Some  of  these  tur- 
tles have  "Jerseys,"  but  none  were  worn  on  this  occasion. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  a  turtle  takes  much  pleasure  in. 
line  clothes  and  rich  suppers.  An  animal  that  has  been 
accustomed  ever  since  he  was  born  to  wear  nothing  but  a 
warm,  durable,  water-proof  tobacco  box,  and  has  always 
seen  the  most  eminent  turtles  of  his  acquaintance  dressed 
in  the  same  style,  may  very  likely  think  that  silk  and  sat- 
in clothes  are  inconvenient  and  ugly.  The  turtle  proba- 
bly thinks  that  it  is  all  very  well  for  men  to  wear  clothes, 
since  they  are  unfortunate  enough  to  be  born  without 
serviceable  coats  of  tortoise-shell;  but  he  can  not  see  why 
he  should  trouble  himself  to  wear  clothes.  As  for  dinners, 
every  sensible  turtle  prefers  plain  flies,  since  the  latter  are 
cheap  and  wholesome,  to  any  of  the  dishes  which  his  hu- 
man friends  set  before  him. 

Treated  rationally,  the  turtle  is  a  quiet  and  pleasant  pet. 
He  seldom  shows  any  affection  for  his  owner,  but  on  the 
other  hand  he  never  bites  like  a  vicious  dog,  or  uses  bad 
language  like  a  depraved  cat.  Turtles  live  an  immense 
length  of  time,  and  one  turtle  will  last  a  person  for  a  life- 
time, especially  if  his  shell  is  polished  occasionally,  and 
he  is  not  allowed  to  eat  wasps  under  the  impression  that 
they  are  a  new  and  delicious  style  of  fly. 


OCTOBER  9,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


781 


(Y5  first-  opinion-) 

noisy- chatteringTVlagpte- once- 
f  A-  talking-  gabbling-hairbrained-dunce- 
Came-by-where- a -Sign-post-  stood' 
He-nodded-nis-head-wifh-a-modish-air- 
y(  And-)'aid-"o;ood-da.y"-  fpr-he-waj-rCt- aware- 

<H,       Th  at  fh&.sjgn-post- pointing-its- finger-there 
O,  \Vas- °nly- a- block- of  •  \vood.  • 


The-pojt-  said-never-a-word 
,'vejusf-dropped-over- from -Lincoln  shire- 
AVy-home-is-fn-fhe-Cathedral-Spirc- 
The-air-i5-coo(er-and-purer-fhe-hisher. 
\/~. .  ~~+  ^ '-•-••  ve -doubtless-neard  " 


^  -on-he-chattered-wifTvnever-a- stop. 
And-on-andon-till-you'd-  fhurjc  -he-woulcf-drop 

(The -p°st- was-  dumb-as  your-hat-)^ 
But  5o-a5-:me-pi&-could-say-hi5-5ay- 
H  e-did-n't- care-whefher.lt- spoke-ali-day^- 
For-  fhu^-he-objerved-  as  -he-walked  -.away- 
'Xn-intelligent 


(Y-  iecond-opinion-  J 


NOW- once-w  hen- fhe-jky-NX/ a  ?•  pouring-rain  v 
The- /Magpie-chanced- to.  come-by- again- 
And-mere-s1ood:fhe-post-jn-fne-wet-  x    -,' 

Pray  tell- me-I-bec- is-fhere-jhel  tering-near- 

A -terrible-  day-for-fhis-time-of-<he-year- 

"T-would-  make  -a-  ^aint-Anfhony-  fret-" 

"I- beg-  your-pardon-I-did-n'(-quite-hear- 
(Then- louder)"  I-say-is-fhere-Jheitering-near 
But-fhe-post-was-as-dumb-as-Deafh 


"What-can'-t-you-answer-  a- question- pray- 
YoU'Will-not-  N° -Then-I-flJ- s ay- good-day-" 
And- flirting- his- tail- he -walked- away-       v/ 
"You'r- a- fool-"  (fhis-  under-hii-breafh-)    .' 


L'.  ENVOY-  V 

ace 

Jj-  C  ircum  stances-  alter-  cases. 


The-moral-fhat-fhiJ-itory-traces 


IIAIIPEITS  YOUXG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


FEEDING   PUSSY. 


I  like  to  feed  my  pussy, 

I  like  to  see  her  eat ; 
If  she  would  only  use  a.  spoon, 

(Hi,  wouldn't  it  be  sweet? 

Sbe  is  so  very  cunning. 

And  thinks  so  much  of  me  : 
She  always  wants  her  breakfast 

When  1  am  there  to  see. 


mens?  fire  out  of 
the  wood  which 
had  drifted  down 
tin1  creek  during 
floods,  and  we  all 
wrapped  up  in 
rugsandlayround 
tin-  tin/  tc.  sleep. 

II      was      beautiful 

to  see  the  water 
rippling  in  the 
starlight,  and  tie 
bright  blaze  of 
our  tire  in  the  qui- 
et night.  ( mr  par- 
ty c'.  insisted  of  six 
—my  father,  my 
sisters  Helen  and 
Florence,  an  Eng- 
lish friend,  a  little 
school-fellow  of 
mine  named  Mac, 
and  myself.  Our 
little  dog  Fritz, 
which  I  told  you 
about  before,  also 
accompanied  us. 
Our  whole  party 
together  caught 
140  fish,  which  wi- 
th'>ui:ht  very  good 
sport.  We  chil- 
dren spent  half 
our  time  wading, 
bathing,  and  sail- 
ing "li  "Id  rafts 
down  the  creek. 

\Ve  cooked  fish, 
and  made  coffee, 
and  ate  our  sup- 
in  r  sitting  round 
the  tire. 

We  are  a  family 
,,t  doctors.  Myfa- 
UHT  and  two  bro- 
thers are  doctors, 
and  I  am  going 
tit  lie  onr  when  I 
grow  up.  I  like 
Yoi-N(i  PEOPLE 
very  much,  and 
my  ni-  >t  her  takes 


your   BAZAR   and 
MONTHLY     MAGA- 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 


MADISON,  FLORIDA. 

Peck  and  I  have  taken  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  a 
long  time.  We  exchange  it  with  a  friend  for  an- 
other periodical,  so  that  we  have  the  benefit  of 
two  papers.  \\v  commenced  school  last  week, 
and  we  Mud  it  hard  work  to  get  buck  to  study 
after  such  a  pleasant  vacation.  We  had  cousins 
(both  boys  and  girls)  from  (Jeorgia  visiting  us 
this  summer,  and  we  enjoyed  ourselves  much  in 
goin"  from  house  to  house  i.t' our  many  relatives 
We  enjoyed  best  of  all  to  attend  the  skating  rink 
and  the  library.  We  have  nice  skates,  and  can 
skim  al'ing  tin-  t1""r  easily  and  gracefully.  One 
of  our  aunts  lias  a  large  house  with  wide  veran- 
das all  around,  where  we  can  skate  splendidly. 

The  weather  will  soon  be  pleasant,  for  October 
generally  has  blue  skies,  with  hazy  clouds  pass- 
ing to  and  fro,  as  if  trying  to  lessen  the  glare  of 
Old  Sol.  Tin-  nights  are  lovely,  with  so  many 
stars,  each  one  endeavoring  to  outshine  its  neigh- 
bor. I  have  heard  that  the  moonlight  nights  of 
Florida  surpassed  those  of  Italy.  Beauty  is  the 
name  of  our  Spitz  dog.  Peck  has  a  cat,  and  sis- 
ter has  the  sweetest  singing  canary. 

There  will  not  be  many  oranges  this  season  in 
our  part  of  the  State,  but  in  Southern  Florida 
there  is  a  t'ni  •  '  op.  The  caterpillar  has  injured 
the  cot  ton  or  p,  but  there  are  plenty  of  corn  and 
potatoes.  Truck-farming  is  all  the  go  now.  There 
were  quaiititii •»  of  all  kinds  of  vegetables,  fruits, 
and  melons  shipped  from  here  this  year;  but  such 
perishahle  fruit  as  tigs  can  not  lie  shipped  profit- 
ably, and  we  have  so  many  of  them  !  We  si  nt  a 
box  to.Jacksonvillc,  and  sold  them  to  afirm  which 
makes  them  up  in  marmalade.  We  sent  the  mon- 
ey to  a  florist,  and  got  mamma  some  geraniums, 
fuchsias,  and  begonias,  and  we  assisted  her  to 
plant  them  in  pots,  and  put  them  on  the  front 
piazza,  where  they  will  bloom  all  the  winter,  and 
where  we  can  obtain  button-hole  bouquets  when 
we  g"  mil.  With  ever  so  many  good  wishes  for 
the  success  of  YIU-NU  PEOPLE,  I  will  conclude. 
THEODORE  C.  S. 


Now,  pussy,  little  pussy. 

You  must  behave  yourself. 
Or  else  I'll  set  the  bread  and  milk 

Upon  the  closet  shelf. 

ZIM:.  We  have 
forty -eight  tur- 
keys, but  we  call 
notraise  chickens, 
because  the  ne- 
groes steal  them 
all ;  and  we  have 

In  put  a  bell  on  the  door  of  our  turkey -house, 
because  there  is  going  to  be  a  negroes'  camp- 
meciing  soon,  anil  they  all  steal  turkeys  and 
chickens  to  take  there.  MONTY  31. 


and  oh  '  just  lots  of  things  that  I  know  big  folks 
w.  .11  Id  ne'ver  think  of.  I  guess  I  will  tell  you  about 
my  bird  ;  its  name  is  Willie,  and  it  is  a  little  brown 
siiiger.  A  lady  gave  it  tn  me  two  years  ago.  Some- 


She  purrs  so  low  and  softly. 

She  is  so  dear  and  sweet. 
I'll  let  her  have  her  basin  now. 

And  all  she  wants  to  eat. 


WEST  PHILADELPHIA.  I'K.NNSVI.VAMA. 

Twice  I  have  begun  a  letter  to  you,  but  have 
never  finished  either.  I  think  that  HAIIPICU'S 
Y.HMi  PEOPLE  is  the  nicest  paper  I  have  ever 
seen  the  stories  are  all  so  good,  but  I  like  Lucy 
C.  Lillie's  best.  I  think  that  "Dick  and  D."  is 


FINCASTI.E,  VIRGINIA. 

I  promised  you  a  long  time  ago  that  if  I  saw 
my  first  letter  in  print  I  would  write  and  tell  you 
ho  w  we  camped  out  in  the  mountains.  We  start- 
i-d  early  one  Tuesday  morning  in  September,  and 
went  ten  miles  over  a  m'Uintain  ridge  tn  a  broad 
and  lovely  stream,  which  affords  tin-  b.  si  of 
bass  fishing,  bathing,  and  other  amusements.  We 
staid  three  days,  and  every  night  we  built  an  im- 


iltun  Street,  this  city.  I  will  write  to  her. 

A  very  kind  uncle  and  aunt  took  me  to  the  Isles 
of  shoals  for  nearly  a  week  this  summer.  They 
are  several  islands  off  the  coast  of  New  Hamp- 
shire, just  rocky  islands,  with  not  a  tree  on  them. 
\Ve  were  on  Star  Island,  at  the  hotel  (quite  a  large 
"net.  and  the  island  was  so  small  that  I  could 
walk  all  around  it.  We  hail  such  a  nice  time 
climbing  over  the  rocks,  finding  the  sea-weed,  or 
watching  the  ocean.  One  day  we  went  over  to 
Londoner's  Island  to  gather 'shells  (there  were 
none  on  Star  Island),  and  another  day  we  took  a 
lovely  sail.  One  afternoon  it  rained,  and  the  next 
day  the  wave's  were  just  grand  !  We  went  down 
on  the  rocks  to  see  them,  and  the  spray  dashed 
up  ever  so  high  !  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  it, 
but  perhaps  you  have.  All  of  the  rocks  were 
bleached  very  white  by  the  salt  water.  I  was 
sorry  to  leave  there,  although  we  were  going  to 
my  uncle's  lovely  house  in  Massachusetts. 

Some  of  the  receipts  are  so  nice  that  I  will  try 
a  few  I  think.  I  have  no  pets  except  my  little 
sisters,  but  I  want  to  get  a  kitten.  1  am  a  little 
more  than  eleven  years  old.  My  cousiu  lives  in 
Kentucky,  and  I  hope  she  will  see  this  (she  takes 
the  paper),  and  write  too.  With  lots  of  love. 

HELEN  C. 


H.invrnN,   NEW    JERSEY. 

I  thought  I  would  write  to  you,  and  see  my  let- 
ter published  if  you  thought  it  good  enough.  My 
ci.usin  Ted  has  a  red  setter  that  follows  him 
round  like  a  shadow.  My  cousin  dare  is  staying 
here  and  we  have  a  paper  named  "The  Rover." 
Yesterday  we  went  to  the  kitchen  to  make  cake, 
but  it  was  all  burned  to  a  cinder.  I  think  Jimmy 
Brown's  stories  are  splendid.  I  wish  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  came  everyday.  I  like  "  Dick  and 
D."  I  am  seven  years  old— almost  eight.  I  have 
a  little  sister  named  Burnie— her  real  name  is  Bcr 
tha.  I  have  a  microscope,  and  I  killed  a  black 
and  white  bee,  and  pulled  out  its  sting;  it  looked 
dreadful.  I  should  not  like  to  have  it  go  into 
me.  Now  I  must  say  good-by,  because  Clare  and 
Bessie  are  going  out.  MARGIE  I{.  A. 

NKW  ORLEANS,  LOL-ISIANA. 

Having  never  written  to  you  before.  I  have  de- 
cided to  do  so  to-day.  To-day  is  my  birthday, 
and  I  am  having  a  very  nice  time.  I  tried  one  ot 
your  receipts  for  sponge  -  cake,  and  made  t  wo 
very  nice  ones,  which  we  all  enjoyed  after  din- 
ner, and  I  wish  that  I  could  send  you  some.  I 
see  that  all  the  others  write  about  their  pets,  so 
I  will  write  about  mine,  though  I  have  but  one, 
and  that  one  is  a  baby  sister  three  weeks  old, 
but  quite  large  for  her  age,  and  strong  also.  1 
have  three  sisters  besides  the  baby,  but  I  can  only 
play  with  two.  as  one  is  ill. but  will  be  well  very 
soon.  I  hope,  and  then  we  can  all  play  with  her. 
We  all  look  forward  with  much  pleasure  to  the 
day  when  your  paper  arrives.  The  Post-office  Box 
is  my  great  delight,  but  the  whole  paper  is  just 
as  nice  a  paper  as  can  be  had.  MARY  B. 


Pia  MOINKS,  IOWA. 

I  have  a  little  friend  whom  I  love  dearly,  and 
who  lives  quite  near  me  in  this  lovely  city.  She 
is  one  of  dear  YOUNG  PEOPLE'S  subscribers,  and  a 
long  time  ago  she  wrote  a  letter,  which  you  pub- 
lished. Ever  since  I  read  her  little  letter  I  have 
thought  that  I  would  like  to  write  one.  I  am 
onlj  a  little  girl  ten  years  old.  but  |  don't  see 
why  little  girls  may  not  write  letters  just  as  well 
as  young  ladies,  if  they  don't  write  such  long 
ones.  I  am  sure  I  could  find  enough  to  say  ;  for 
[  could  tell  about  my  school,  my  pet  bird,  my  dol- 
lies, and  the  nice  times  I  have  with  my  playmates, 


, 

I  would  like  to  tell  the  young  people  of  one  of 


ss    ove,  o.      ss    ove 

says  "ciood-by":  and  there  is  one  gentleman 
w  h,,  calls  that  she  is  very  fond  of,  as  he  usually 
gives  her  a  nut  or  a  raisin,  of  which  she  is  very 

- 


tences, but  I  have  succeeded  so  far. 

And  now,  hoping  that  I  have  not  wearied  you. 
I  will  close  by  thanking  you  for  the  many  plea- 
sures of  the  Post-office  I'.ox.     I  should  like  to  join 
' 


SL-LLIVAN'S  ISLAND,  SOUTH  CAROLINA 

My  two  little  sisters  and  myself  have  been  tak 
ing  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  two  years,  and  we  enjoy 
reading  it  ever  so  much.  We  are  all  spending 
the  summer  on  this  island,  which  is  off  the  coast, 
and  we  have  been  enjoying  ourselves  very  much. 
We  go  on  the  beach  every  afternoon;  it  is  a 
splendid  beach,  and  some  people  say  one  of  the 
best  they  have  ever  seen.  I  enjoj  sitting  on  ••< 
bench  aii  1  looking  at  the  water,  and  at  the  sun- 
set, which  is  always  beautiful;  but  we  shall  all 
be  -lad  enough  when  the  time  comes  to  go  back 
to  Charleston,  which  is  our  home.  lam  writing 


(H'TOliKU  '.i,  IS.s::. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


783 


tliis  with  my  Ifft  hand,  because  my  right  is  par- 
alyzed. I  must  close  now  ;  si  i  good-hy. 

EI.LA  C.  M.  S. 

Many  girls  write  less  plainly  with  their  right 
hand  than  yi'U  have  written  with  yuur  left. 

l.KmlkMLLA,  NEW    Bill -\s\VIl 'K. 

I  sit  down  tn  write  you  a  letter.    I  am  nine 
yrars  old     I  live  out  in  the  country,  but  belong 

to  M  .limn  1  h;ivi-  a  beautiful  doll,  which  my 
papa  liroir-lit  from  I'aris.  I  liuve  liccn  across 
tin-  Mlantie  lo  Kaglaiid  and  Scotland.  I  think 

the  story  of  "  Prince  Lazy] is"  was  ver\  nice  : 

also  1  like  •'  Dick  and  II."  :  1  hope  it  will  imt  lie- 
so  short  as  "  Prince  Lazybones"  was. 

ETHEL  M. 


CI.EEMIINT,  Nhw  VUI:K. 

We  are  two  rmisins  wlio  have  taken  II  \l;ri:i:'s 
Yurxi;  PKOIM.E  for  a  luiijr  time,  and  we  both  think 
it  is  very  interesting.  We  have  wanted  to  write 
for  some  lime,  but  were  afraid  it  would  not  he 
printed  Tin1  seven  little  eoilsins  who  wrote  yon 
a  letter  from  I'ittsli.-ld,  Massachusetts,  are  our 
cousins.  Don't  yon  think  they  had  a  terrible  ex 
perienee'-  They'told  us  all  about,  it  when  they 
came  to  our  house  to  visit  after  the  accident . 

v\  e  are  slaving  ill  a  lovely  country  place  this 
summer  \\  c  ha  ye  a  dear  shepherd  do-  hen •.  and 
he  is  a  beaulifnl  fellow  :  we  call  him  sliep.  \\  e 
nave  just  been  reading  I  he  story  of  Captain 
Kidd's  Money":  and  will  you  please  tell  us  if 
there  really  was  an\  money  lull  led.  Please  print 
this,  as  it  is  a  surprise  to  our  mammas.  With 
love  to  the  Postmistress,  we  are 

MOLLY  L.  and  EI.SII.  D. 

(  aptain  Kidd  buried  silver.  gold,  jewels,  and 
ol  her  treasures,  lo  the  value  of  £14,000  sterling. 
on  (iardiner's  Island,  in  li'i'.ln.  After  his  c.xce-.i 
lion  as  a  pirate  these  articles  were  discovered. 
There  are  no  grounds  for  the  belief  that  he  ever 
hid  away  any  other  money  than  this. 


Hi.  DI.UM..I.  K  INS  vs. 

This  is  my  first  Idler.  Imt  I  have  wanted  to 
write  you  sooner,  only  I  was  afraid  I  could  not 
write  well  enough.  1  will  tell  yon  how  I  came 
lo  take  ll.utn:i:'s  Ym  M;  PEOPLE,  due  c\ening 
I  was  reading  aloud  to  papa  and  mamma,  and 
when  I  got  through  papa  said  that  I  read  so  nicely 
that  he  would  gei  me  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLI:, 
ami  1  was  so  glad  :  I  have  taken  the  paper  for  a 
year.  I  like  it  very  much. 

I  like  Kl  Dorado.  We  haven't  lived  in  Kan- 
sas very  long  We  have  a  nice  large  yard,  and 
two  hammocks.  1  ha\o  two  pets— a  canary-bird 
and  an  antelope.  The  antelope's  name  is  Clover, 
because  it  likes  clover  so  well;  the  bird's  name 
is  Dickie.  I  am  eight  years  old.  If  you  should 

ever  eo to  Kansas,]  would  like  to  see  you. 

Please  send  me  the  largest -size  doll's  pattern. 
My  cousin  Sarah  and   I   are   going  to  make  our 
dolls  a  dress  alike.      The  live  cents  is  for  I  he  pal 
tern.     Your  friend.  HATTIE  K.  T. 

If  I  ever  go  to  Kansas,  you  may  look  for  me, 
little  Ilattie.for  I  would  like  to  see  you.  I  hope 
you  found  the  pattern  easy,  and  that  the  dolls 
are  delighted  with  it. 


Bertie  R.,who  writes  the  next  letter,  has  been 
quite  a  traveller,  and  the  Postmistress  keeps 
among  her  treasures  a  little  bit  of  edelweiss 
which  he  once  sent  her  from  the  Alps.  Now. 
however,  he  is  at  home,  and  yery  busy  with 
slates,  pencils,  books,  and  exercises  : 

I  am  ten  years  old.  and  am  going  to  school 
i  io\v.  and  si  udyingl  id-man,  but  I  don't  like  school; 
I  like  travelling  in  Europe  best  I  have  crossed 
the  ocean  eight  times.  The  last  time  was  last 
Xovemhcr,  and  it  was  awfully  stormy,  and  so 
rough  mamma  was  afraid,  but  I  wasn't.  The 
steward  put  racks  in  our  beds  to  keep  us  from 
falling  out,  and  we  just  couldn't  eat  soup  it  spill- 
ed so  :  even  the  big  folks  let.  it  spill,  only  the  cap 
tain  didn't  spill  his.  Mamma  said  that  was  be- 
cause he  knew  just  in  what  direction  the  ship 
was  going  to  tumble  next,  and  could  balance  his 
plate  in  bis  hands.  I  am  going  to  be  a  duel  or, 
like  my  papa,  only  I  won't  go  out  nights,  as  papa 
does.  I  hope  you  will  print  this:  won't  you, 
please?  Good-by.  BEUTIL  11. 


I  am  a  constant  reader  of  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEO- 
PLE, and  think  it  is  delightful  reading.  I  will  be 
nine  years  old  next  December,  and  am  mamma's 
only  hoy.  I  have  plenty  of  toys,  and  good  books 
to  read.  Mamma  tells  me  that  Santa  clans  will 
bring  me  a  watch  for  a  Christmas  present.  Now 
I  wisti  yon  would  please  tell  me  if  there  really  is 
a  Santa  clans.  The  boys  tell  me  there  is  none, 
and  papa  and  mamma  give  me  evasive  answers 
win 'ii  I  question  them  about  him.  I  will  say  no 
more  for  fear  my  letter  may  be  too  long. 

BERTIE  C.  II. 

Let  mi-  tell  you,  Bertie,  that  I  am  still  so  much 
of  a  child  that  I  believe  in  good  old  Santa  Claus. 
iind  1  advise  you  not  to  listen  to  the  boys,  nor 


even  to  ask  your  parents  too  many  questions,  but 
j  ust  look  forward  hopefully  to  the  day  when  you 
an  io  have  :i  watch.  I  hope  you  will  treat  it 
I iet  t IT  than  I  do  mine,  for  I  often  forget  to  wind 
it  up,  and  such  neglect  astonishes  it  so  that  it 
i  omes  to  a  full  stop.  Have  you  ever  climbed  to 
the  top  of  tin-  stale-house  in  your  beautiful  old 
town,  and  looked  down  from  there  on  the  gar- 
dens, with  their  thick  hedges  of  box  so  nicely 
dipped,  and  the  green  fields,  and  the  moss-grown 
walls1.'  As  I  renumber  that  view,  it  is  one  well 
worth  ga/.ing  ai. 

GRRMANTOWX.  PniLAiiM.rHIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  and  people 
say  I  am  very  larire  for  my  age.  I  have  a  canary- 
bird:  its  name  is  Dick,  When  I  go  away  for  the 
summer  one  •  it  •  iiu-  girls  takes  care  of  it.  I  have 
lour  sisiers  and  two  brothers.  My  little  niece 
li\cs  with  us;  she  is  very  sweet;  she  is  three 
years  old;  her  birthday  comes  on  the  29th  of 
Februan .  I  wish  Sydney  Dayre  would  \\rite 
again.  I  liked  the  story  of  "  Pearl"  very  much. 

EVA  X.  c. 

Mm  M  W.VSHIM;TO\,  MARYLASH. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  My  sister  Bes- 
sie wrole  lii  \.iii  and  told  you  we  were  going  t.i 
have  a  goat.  We  have  him  now.  a  tall  one  with 
long  burns;  he  looks  like  a  deer.  We  have  a 

nice  lii  Me  carriage,  something  like  a  village'  cart  ; 
two  ot  us  can  get  in  1 1  igcther.  We  have  splendid 
times  with  him.  but  try  not  to  drive  him  too  long 
m  ir  too  fast.  I  have  a  lovely  little  bird,  and  wlii  n 
1  put  my  liiiL'iT  in  the  cage  he  hops  •  m  it  and  peeks 
at  it ;  he  dm1-  noi  hurt  much,  though. 

BAI-.TIE  D. 


I  am  a  girl  twelve  years  old.  and  have  taken 
Yol'M.  I'lul'll,  ever  since  il  Was  published.  I 

am  thankful  to  say  that  I  live  on  a  farm  in  the  , 
eon  nl  r\  1  do  pit  y  city  girls  who  have  no  fields  to 
play  in  and  no  woods  to  stroll  in  on  pleasant  all 
eriioons.  I  go  to  school  c\er\  day.  and  like  il 
very  much.  We  have  seven  birds,  named  Hick, 
llainlv.  Sally.  liillie.  (viiieeti.  Mary,  and  .Inmbo. 
two  dogs,  named  .lack  and  Nick,  and  six  cats.  I 
have  live  brothers  and  sisters,  named  Fred.  Flsic, 
Bertie,  .lohnnie.  and  .lessamine.  The  latter  are 
twins,  six  years  old;  they  were  born  on  Wash- 
ington's I'.inhday.  ORIE  M.  B. 

Xexv  V..I:K   TIT*. 

My  si  -ler  \ddie  and  I  have  laken  Torsi;  PEO- 
IM  i  I. 'i'  three  years,  and  like  it  very  much.  We 
think  thai  "Xan"  v\as  a  lovely  story,  and  hope 
Mrs.  I.illie  will  write  a  sequel  to  it.'  We  saw  a 
let  1 1  r  in  tlie  l'i  is  i  ofliee  Itox  from  St.  Mary's  Free 
Hospital  saying  they  wished  the  children  to  take 
a  \  i  ile  i  M  s,.(.  whcl  her  the  next  child  was  to  lie  a 
girl  or  a  boy.  We  are  both  in  favor  of  its  being 
a  boy.  ADDIE  and  CI.AUA  E. 


NEWBLRV,  VM:MO\T. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  old.  I  have  a 
brother  nine  years  old.  and  a  sister  seven.  1  have' 
a  jointed  Paris  doll,  and  I  am  very  fond  of  her. 
slie  lias  a  great  many  clothes.  I  wash  and  iron 
all  her  dresses  and  under-clothes.  I  am  making 
a  crazy  cushion  f.u-  grandpapa.  My  sister  and  1 
are  very  fond  of  playing  with  paper  dolls:  we 
cut  them  out  of  fashion  papers,  and  make  divss- 
es  for  them.  EPFJE  II. 

Miind  S.  K. :  I  will  try  to  have  some  very  easy 
puzzles  for  you  soon.— L.  B. :  Play  out-doors, 
run.  climb,  and  get  all  the  fresh  air  you  can.  Yon 
will  not  be  a  tomboy,  but  a  sensible,  bright  eyed 
girl.  I  used  to  like  those  things  myself. —Lucy  S. 
A, :  I  am  putting  together  some  receipts  for  can- 
dy.— Li/zic  >.  P.  is  invited  to  write  to  Blanche 
F.  S.,  55  Oak  Street,  Baltimore,  Maryland.  And 
now  I  think  Lizzie  will  have  as  many  correspond- 
ent s  as  she  can  attend  to  without  neglecting  oth- 
er duties.— Lester  J.  F. :  It  was  a  great  pleasure 
lo  meet  the  President,  I  am  sure. — Susie  T.  :  Sa- 
il ie.  or  whoever  receives  your  gift, will  be  pleased. 
Write  again,  dear,  Xottie  ]!.,  M.iuel  B.  J.,  Bessie 
IV.  II.,  llriisir  A.  s.,  Mary  P.  \.,  Mary  E.  H.,  Ulysses 
S.  S.,  and  Hay  H.  will  please  accept  thanks  for 
their  letters,  which  have  been  read  with  interest. 


PUZZLES.  l.'KOM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 
A  i  rumrs  TABLE. 

A  former  pupil  of  Dame  Playfair.  returning 
from  abroad,  bus  brought  the  old  lady  an  inlaid 
table,  oblong,  mostly  with  mosaic  of  different 
woods,  but  of  such  a  funny  kind  !  There  are  15 
on  the  right  and  left,  and'  10  top  and  bottom. 
In  the  centre  is  a  photograph  of  the  Dame,  with 
the  legend  (~)1 1,  "  The  one  we  love."  Each  mosaic 
is  a  different  -colored  square,  and  they  are  in  the 
following  order : 

Mosaics  in  Wood.— 1.  A  carpenter's  tool.  3.  The 
queen  of  flowers.  3.  A  striped  horse.  4.  An  iron 


spike.  5.  A  loaf.  C.  An  Eastern  shoe.  7  A  red 
jewel.  S.  .Material  of  a  lady's  dress.  !).  Will 
shakspeare  very  sad.  10.  A  merry  old  bachelor. 
11.  A  mastiff.  13.  A  Presbyterian  officer,  1:;.  A 
portrait  of  Andrew  Jackson.  14.  A  seal-skin 
sacque.  ]fl.  A  pail  of  whitewash,  in.  A  broken 
rudder.  17.  What  Katie  did  when  brother  John 
went  to  sea.  IS.  A  tailor's  goose.  I'.i  A  spear, 
'.'il.  An  arch  with  ".Won  it.  ','1.  An  insecl  nla.-k 
and  green.  •'•..>-  An  ironing  table.  3:;.  A  lady's 
hand.  31.  A  game  bird.  ','.1.  A  couple  of  squab. 
•20.  A  Dutch  prince.  37.  £UW.OM.  3S.  Paul  Pry. 
29.  Part  of  a  cloak.  30.  A  wooden  mallet.  31.  A 
Portuguese  wine  measure.  33.  An  eye  with  a 
large  pupil.  33.  Part  of  a  city  official.  Ml.  The 
upper  part  of  the  church.  •'!">.  The  last  of  a  cigar 
.".i;  \  long  iron  lever.  37.  The  Chesapeake,  3N. 
Conej  Island.  .'!'.!.  A  large  chest.  -111.  A  girl  with 
her  sweetheart.  -II.  A  cannon-ball.  43.  A  man- 
darin with  his  rank  mark.  43.  Kale.  44.  A  box 
and  part  of  a  screw.  4."i.  A  double  company.  46. 
A  spoiled  beast.  47.  Beautiful  eyes.  48.  After- 
dinner  drink.  49.  A  shell-fish.  50.  A  cage  bird. 
.M.  The  one  we  love.  DAME  PI.AYFAIP.. 


No.  •_•. 

A    DIAMOND    IN    POETUY. 

This  is  a  letter  found  in  fear. 
Now  children,  hush,  there's  danger  near. 
Pertains  to  base.     The  next  is  clear. 
A  fair  isle  of  the  far-off  sea. 

A   Volley  that   makes  foemell  llee 

A  French  numeral  that  staggers  me. 
A  pretty  maiden's  name  declare. 
This  means  to  join  in  this  our  sphere 
And  last  a  letter  found  in  hare 

B.  Rll.UTON. 


ANSWERS  Til   PU/ZI.ES  IX  No.  203. 

NO.  1.         P  A  I!  T  HATE 

A  M  0  ()  AZOV 

I:  ii  I,  I,  T  o  N    E 

T  ii  I.  I.  10   V  E  N 

No    J  Madagascar. 

Madam.     (Jail.     Scar.     (ias.     Dam 

No. :!.  Robin.     Crane.     Wren.     Thrush.     Owl. 

S  pringfleld. 
A    nnapolis. 
N   cwport. 
F  itchburg. 
K  alcigh. 
A    ugtista. 
X  ashville. 
i '  i  ilnmbus. 
I   thaca. 
S  cranton. 
c  oncord. 
O  maha. 


Collect  answers  lo  puzzles  have  been  reeehed 
1 1 1  in  i  \  Itenia  de  M.,  Mrs.  sippi  &  Co.,  Frisky  Fel- 
low,  Jesse  s.  (iodine,  Bertie  L.  Pruyn.  Sporting 
1'iob,  Fannie  R.  Dryden.  Violet  and  Daisy.  Mary 
I..  F. .  Jessie  Adele  Post,  Lucy  Nordenholt.'liober't 
L.  Alice,  May  Harklie.  A.  Cecil  Perry,  Jun.,  Alma 
Rahmer.  Let  tie  Dow,  John  Foster. Clara  Sec,  Ken 
me  II.,  Will  and  Joe  Thompson,  Dick  Forrester. 
Amy  Grey,  Betsey  Trotwood,  E.  F.  (;..  Arthur  Ilo- 
maiis,  John  J.  Mack,  and  Lincoln  Pettit. 


[Fur  K.tchanrjes,  see  'M  and  Zd  paycs  of  cover.} 


A  NEW  SERIAL. 


In  our  next  number  we  shall  publish  the  first 
chapter  of  a  new  serial  story,  entitled 

T  H  K     LOST    CITY: 

on, 
Tlie  Boy  Explorers  in  Central  Asia. 

liv  DAVID  KER. 

Mr.  KKR'S  name  has  long  been  familiar  to  our 
readers,  who  have  enjoyed  his  thrilling  tales  of 
adventure  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  They  will 
welcome  a  long  story  from  his  pen.  He  is  a  greal 
traveller,  the  distant  lands  of  Asia,  the  forests  of 
Africa,  and  the  lonely  islands  of  the  Pacific  being 
as  familiar  to  him  as  are  the  streets  of  their  i<\\  n 
city  or  village  to  the  boys  and  girls  who  read  his 
stories.  In  "  The  Lost  City"  he  carries  his  read- 
ers into  the  strange  cities  and  mountain  districts 
of  Afghanistan.  His  boy  heroes  are  there  during 
the  terrible  days  that  preceded  the  late  war  be- 
tween  Afghanistan  and  England  at  the  time  of 
the  massacre  of  Major  Cavagnari  and  his  faith- 
ful band  of  associates. 

The  author  describes  with  care  the  novel  and 
interesting  characteristics  of  this  far-distant  and 
ah, lost  unknown  country.  The  story  abounds  in 
adventure,  and  the  scenes  and  incidents  an  as 
varied  and  thrilling  as  the  land  is  strange  and 
the  people  singular. 


784 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NUTTING. 


A  VERY  SELF-WILLED  HORSE. 

is  an  old  nursery  rhyme  which  teaches  that  kinduess 
and  patience  are  the  best  methods  to  pursue  in  the  case  of 
a  "donkey  that  wouldn't  go."  Au  English  gentleman  relates 
that,  lie  had  a  horse  that  "wouldn't  go,"  but  when  he  came  to 
try  the  patience,  remedy,  he  found  that  the  horse  had  a  larger 
supply  of  that  virtue  than  he  himself  possessed,  which,  as  will 
presently  be  seen,  was  considerable. 

Tlie  English  gentleman's  horse  was  a  confirmed  "balker."  One 
Saturday  afternoon,  when  he  was  returning  home  in  his  dog-cart, 
I  lie  1  H  >rse  balked,  as  it  had  often  done  before,  and  its  master  thought 
that  this  time  he  would  try  what  calmness  and  patience  would  do. 
Accordingly  he  sat  still  iu  the  dog-cart,  and  addressed  the  ani- 
mal in  soothing  tones  and  kindly  words;  hut  to  no  purpose.  It 
was  exactly  ten  minutes  past  four  on  Saturday  afternoon  when 
the  horse  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

The  afternoon  wore  away,  the  sun  sank  below  the  hori/on, 
darkness  settled  down  over  the  landscape,  and  yet  the  man  and 
horse  remained  to  right  out  the  battle  between  obstinacy  and 
patience.  Through  the  long  night  they  staid  there,  the  whip 
remaining  quietly  in  the  socket,  and  when  the  sun  arose  after 
his  voyage  around  the  world  he  found  the  contest  still  going  on. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  owner  hade  his  groom  fetch 
a  cart-rope  and  tie  it  to  the  horse's  fore-leg  :  hut  when  the  groom 
ilid  so,  and  pulled  with  all  his  might,  the  only  result  was  that 
the  horse  stood  with  his  fore-leg  stuck  out  as  if  he  were  a  bronze 
st.-itne.  At  seven  o'clock  the  horse  became  perfectly  furious, 
.seizing  the  shaft  with  his  teeth,  and  shaking  it,  kicking  and 
stamping  with  rage  the  while.  At  half  past  seven  the  groom 
tried  to  tempt  him  with  a  measure  of  oats,  hut  the  angry  beast 
would  have  none  ot'it.  notwithstanding  that  it  w  as  twenty  hours 
since  he  had  had  a  mouthful  of  food  or  a  drop  of  water. 

Then  his  master  had  to  confess  himself  beaten  in  the  trial  of 
patience,  and  having  procured  some  tough  shoots  of  ground-ash, 
he  applied  them  to  Mr.  Horse's  back  so  \  igoronsly  that  that  self- 
willed  quadruped  was  obliged  to  confess  himself  beaten  so  far  as 
his  hide  was  concerned.  It  was  then  twenty  minutes  before 
eight  on  Sunday  morning,  the  contest  having  lasted  jij'tirn  Imiirx 
and  a  /(«//,  during  which  the  horse  did  not  budge  an  inch,  nor 
his  owner  stir  from  his  seat  in  the  carriage. 

This  is  probably  the  most  remarkable  exhibition  of  obstinacy 
on  the  one  side  and  of  patience  on  the  other  that  was  ever  known, 
and  the  story  as  told  here  is  exactly  true. 


ENIGMA. 

BY   E.  M.  TRAQTJAIR. 

STRANGERS  twenty-one,  they  tell, 
On  a  time  came  here  to  dwell. 
Like  each  other  there  was  none; 
Whole  and  perfect  every  one. 
Yet.  though  fairly  formed  were  they. 
\Vas  not  one  a  word  could  say. 
So.  to  tell  us  what  they  thought. 
Five  interpreters  they  brought — 
These  were  learned  folks,  in  sooth. 
Spoke  the  first  with  ..pen  mouth ; 
Second  like  a  baby  cried; 
Long-drawn  sounds  the  third  one  tried; 
Like  a  wagoner  I  knew 
Called  the  fourth;  the  fifth  like  you. 
And  with  their  wondrous  arts  and  skill. 
The  noise  they  made  is  lasting  still. 


llo\Y    I   TAMKD  MY   CANARY. 

BY  EDITH  JANE  EVANS. 

HK  was  brought  to  me  from  Malta,  and  when  he  came  I  put 
him  in  a  nice  clean  cage,  with  pure  water  and  seed.  I  did 
everything  for  him  myself,  and  fed  him  on  canary-seed.  The 
hemp-seed,  of  which  he  is  verj  fond.  I  gave  him  from  my  linger 
and  thumb  or  my  lips.  After  he  got  to  know  me  I  put  my  hand 
in  his  cage,  with  a  nice  fresh  bit  of  groundsel  or  a  tew  hemp- 

seeds  oil    it. 

The'  lirst  two  or  three  days  he  would  not  come  on  it,  but  by 
degrees  lie  became  tamer,  and  then  he  came.  Then  I  took  to 
lei  I  ing  him  out  in  the  room  when  there  was  no  fire,  and  putting 
a  nice  bit  of  groundsel  on  my  shoulder.  I  waited  to  see  if  he 
would  ciime  to  it,  but  he  would  not.  I  tried  again  the  next  day, 
and  after  doing  it  every  day  for  some  time  he  came  on.  He  is 
\ery  tame  now.  and  I  let  him  out  in  the'  room  every  day,  and  he 
will  fly  from  his  cage  across  the  room  to  my  shoulder. 


REBUS. 


HARPER 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED    WEEKLY. 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  207. 


PCBUSHED  BY   IIAIJI'ER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE   FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  October  16,  1883. 


Copyright,  1383,  by  HAKI-KB  A   BHUTHKBS. 


81.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


*.' 

• 


THE    LOST    CITY 


OR,    THE     BOY    EXPLORERS     IN     CENTRAL    ASIA 
BY    DAVID    KER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ACROSS  THE  TARTAR  STEPPES. 

"  T  OOK  out,  boys !  over  we  go  again  !" 
_Lj     Crash!  went  the  left  wheel  as  he  spoke,  the  wagon 


•OVER  WE  GO  AGAIN: 


786 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


toppled  over,  and  out  into  the  ankle-deep  dust  flew  two 
men  and  two  boys,  amid  a  kind  of  water-fall  of  bags, 
boxes,  water-melons,  revolvers,  biscuits,  flasks,  and  wisps 
of  hay,  all  mingled  together. 

The  spot  where  this  "spill"  occurred  looked  like  what 
it  \vas- one  of  the  most  desolate  and  barbaric  regions  on 
I  he  face  of  the  earth.  The  rising  sun  had  already  thrown 
a  broad  gleam  of  light  upon  the  huge  rounded  slopes  that 
rose  on  every  side  like  the  domes  of  a  mosque,  from  which 
the  morning  mists  were  rolling  off  slowly  and  sullenly, 
as  the  smoke  rising  from  a  battle-field.  But  a  floating 
depth  of  purple  shadow  still  hovered  over  the  endless 
level  of  the  great  plain  below,  clothed  with  the  short  yel- 
lowish grass  of  the  Central  Asian  steppes,  and  a  silence 
deep  and  solemn  as  the  stillness  of  a  newly  created  world 
brooded  on  earth  and  sky. 

The  only  sound  that  broke  this  universal  hush  was  the 
muffled  roar  of  a  water-fall  in  the  shadowy  depths  of  the 
gorge  which  the  travellers  had  been  skirting,  following 
as  best  they  might  the  windings  of  one  of  those  break- 
neck bridle-paths  which  pass  for  roads  in  Central  Asia. 
On  the  brow  of  an  overhanging  cliff,  just  above  the  scene 
of  the  disaster,  rose  the  low  round  tower  and  massive 
boundary  wall  of  a  genuine  Eastern  hill  fortress,  in  the 
shadow  of  whose  pointed  archway  a  dozen  gaunt,  swarthy 
Cossacks,  in  white  frocks  and  red  goat-skin  pants,  lay 
sleeping  side  by  side. 

The  first  of  the  overturned  travellers  to  regain  his  feet 
was  a  small,  wiry,  black-haired  lad  of  sixteen,  in  a  white 
forage  cap,  linen  jacket,  and  knee-high  boots  embroidered 
with  green  thread.  His  dark  face  wore  the  keen,  self- 
reliant  look  of  one  used  to  find  himself  in  difficult  situa- 
tions, and  to  get  out  of  them  by  his  own  unaided  courage 
and  shrewdness.  He  chuckled  as  he  helped  up  his  com- 
rade, a  tall,  good-looking  young  fellow  with  light  curly 
hair,  who  was  looking  ruefully  at  the  handful  of  broken 
glass  that  he  had  just  drawn  from  his  watch  pocket. 

"Never  mind,  Ernest  my  boy:  you're  lucky  to  get 
through  any  journey  in  this  country  without  breaking 
your  neck  as  well  as  your  watch  glass.  Ain't  that  so, 
Hill  '." 

A  grunt  prefaced  the  reply  of  Bill — a  big.  square-built, 
powerful  man,  whose  scarred  cheek  and  slight  limp  would 
have  shown  that  he  had  "smelled  powder,"  even  if  his 
hard,  brick-red  face,  short  thick  mustache,  and  stiff  mili- 
tary uprightness  of  bearing,  had  not  stamped  him  unmis- 
takably as  an  English  soldier. 

"That's  just  the  way  with  you  Yankees,  Mr.  Tom; 
\ou'll  talk  agin,  a  place  fast  enough  yourselves,  but  let 
anybody  else  say  a  word,  and  you're  down  on  'em  direct  ly. 
Now  I'll  be  bound  we  shall  have  you  praising  up  this 
here  country  to-morrow  again,  just  as  if  it  wasn't  the  most 
good-for-nothing  hole  that  a  man  ever  clapped  eyes  on. 
When  it  ain't  roastin'  you  black,  it's  a-blowin'  dust  fit  to 
put  your  eyes  out;  and  when  it  ain't  doiii'  that,  it's  rain- 
in'.  The  very  thunder,  'stead  of  an  honest  roundlnouthed 
peal  like  our  own,  makes  a  nasty  jabbering  row,  as  if  it 
was  a-tryin'  to  talk  French;  and  the  whole  place  is  so  pre- 
cious flat  that  if  you  was  to  put  your  hat  down  and 
stand  on  it,  you  could  see  twenty  miles  round." 

"Bravo,  Bill!"  cried  Ernest;  "you  remind  me  of  Col- 
onel Campbell's  story  of  the  soldier  who  fell  asleep  on  the 
march  in  India,  and  tumbling  over  a  fallen  tree  as  he  u  as 
tramping  011  with  his  eyes  shut,  sang  out,  'I  say,  boys, 
ain't  this  a  precious  country,  where  a  man  can't  have  a 
quiet  nap  for  half  an  hour  without  breaking  his  head  !'  " 

While  they  were  speaking,  the  Tartar  driver  twiio. 
having  luckily  fallen  on  his  head,  had  naturally  escaped 
unhurt)  had  rummaged  out  of  the  chaos  a  hatchet,  a  rope, 
and  a  strong  piece  of  wood,  indispensable  articles  upon 
any  wagon  journey  either  in  Asiatic  or  European  Russia. 
The  fourth  inside  passenger,  a  tall,  handsome,  white-robed 
A  I'jhan.  who  was  looking  as  dignified  and  solemn  as  if  he 


had  not  been  sprawling  head  over  heels  a  moment  before, 
now  stepped  forward  to  assist  in  righting  the  wagon.  The 
wheel  was  soon  in  its  place  again,  and  away  they  went.* 
"Cheer  up,  Bill!"  laughed  Ernest  Clairmont;  "your 
troubles  will  soon  be  over  now.  Tashkent's!  just  over 
the  hill,  isn't  it,  Tom  ?" 

Sure  enough,  a  few  minutes  later  they  crowned  the 
highest  ridge,  and  rattled  down  curve  after  curve  of  rough 
gravelly  road  into  the  great  plain  of  Tashkent.  The  city 
itself  was  still  hidden  by  a  mass  of  dark  glossy  leaves,  but 
the  increasing  number  of  laden  carts  and  donkeys,  sun- 
burned horsemen,  striding  camels  strung  out  in  single 
file,  and  white-turbaned,  blue-robed  natives  trudging  bare- 
foot through  the  dvist,  with  their  little  wallets  at  their 
hacks,  showed  that  it  could  not  be  far  off. 

Suddenly  a  huge  tunnel -like  archway  yawned  before 
them,  in  the  cool  shadow  of  which  several  bearded,  swar- 
thy fellows  were  munching  lepeshki  (wheaton  cakes)  and 
slices  of  water-melon,  while  high  overhead  towered  a  mass 
ive  rampart  of  sun-dried  clay,  standing  out  white  and 
bare  in  the  blistering  sunshine. 

"Tashkent!"  shouted  Tom  Hilton,  imitating  the  voice 
of  a  railway  conductor :  "all  tickets  ready,  please !" 

They  rattled  up  and  down  three  or  four  narrow,  strag- 
gling, dirty  streets,  all  exactly  alike,  scurried  past  Gen- 
eral Kautt'maii's  beautiful  little  park,  with  its  toy  water- 
falls, trim  shrubberies,  and  steep  central  ridge,  crowned 
with  the  pavilion  set  apart  for  the  military  band,  and 
pulled  up  at  length  before  a  small  door  in  a  high  mud 
wall.  It  opened  at  their  first  knock,  and  a  long,  lean, 
sallow  Cossack  greeted  Tom  with  a  military  salute  and  a 
joy  fnl  grin. 

"G-day  otetz  moi,  Vaska  '."  (where  s  my  father,  Basil  '.) 
asked  Tom,  shaking  hands  with  him  heartily. 

"  Vot  on  prikhodit,  Phoma  Yakovitch"  (here  he  comes, 
Thomas  son  of  James),  answered  the  Cossack,  pointing  to 
a  fine-looking  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  Russian  Colonel  of 
Engineers,  but  with  America  clearly  written  in  every  line 
of  his  firm,  intelligent  face  and  tall  sinewy  figure,  who 
came  striding  across  the  smooth  greensward  to  meet  them. 

''Welcome  home,  lads!"  cried  Colonel  Hilton  (for  he  it 
was),  holding  out  a  hand  to  each ;  "  I've  got  all  ready  for 
you  inside.  Ernest,  my  dear  boy,  I'm  very  glad  to  have 
you  back  again  ;  you  know  your  father  was  my  oldest 
friend." 

' '  And  as  brave  an  officer  and  as  kind  a  gentleman  as 
you'd  find  in  the  whole  British  army,"  broke  in  Bill  Bar- 
low. "  I  was  beside  him,  you  know,  colonel,  when  them 
Afghan  blackguards  knocked  him  over;  and  he  says  to 
you.  says  he.  'Jim,  be  a  father  to  my  boy,'  and  you  says 
to  him,  says  you,  'I  will,  Harry,  so  help  me  God!'  And 
so  you  have,  colonel:  and  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  as  dare 
deny  it." 

' '  Now,  boys, "  said  the  Colonel,  when  our  heroes  had  done 
full  justice  to  the  good  breakfast  spread  for  them  in  a  tent  in 
thi>  garden,  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't  go  around  with  you  to-day, 
for  I've  got  about  a  dozen  Russian  officers  coming  to  see 
me  on  business,  one  after  the  other;  so,  Tom,  you'll  have 
to  pilot  Ernest  about  the  town  yourself.  I  dare  say  you'll 
lie  able  to  show  him  something  worth  seeing." 

The  prophecy  was  soon  fulfilled.  To  the  untravelled 
English  boy,  fresh  from  his  Rugby  school  life,  and  the  jog- 
trot civilization  of  England,  everything  that  he  saw  in  this 
outlandish  region  seemed  wonderful  beyond  belief:  cam- 
els walking  about  the  streets  just  like  horses  at  home ;  Af- 
ghan chiefs  swaggering  about  with  a  whole  arsenal  of  pis- 
tols and  daggers  in  their  red  silken  sashes;  brawny  Sarts, 

*  The  Tartars  are  very  handy  in  repairing  accidents  of  this?  kind.  I 
<nir,.  lost  a  wheel  in  a  night  journey  through  the  Khanate  of  Khokand, 
anil  within  ten  miniii.  we  were  going  as  fast  as  ever. 

f  The  capital  of  Russian  Turkestan.  Its  name  signifies  "Stone  Vil- 
la™."—D.  K. 


0<  TO  UK  II  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YorXG-  PEOPLE. 


with  bulging  skins  of  water  poised  on  their  bare  brown 
shoulders;  full-sized  melons  going  at  three  cents  each,  and 
magnificent  grapes  at  one  cent  a  pound:  xlifftn  of  wheateu 
luvad.  large  enough  for  a  man  to  lie  down  upon,  being 
rolled  up  and  carried  off:  women  wrapped  in  gauze  bed- 
curtains  so  closely  as  to  leave  nothing  visible  but  their 
eyes;  gaunt,  wi  Id  -  eyed  Turkomans  in  sheep-skin  caps, 
looking  covetously  at  the  embroidered  uniforms  of  the 
Russian  officers;  and  swarthy  Jews,  in  long  dark  robes, 
high,  black,  funnel -shaped  hats,  and  broad  yellow  gir- 
dles. 

Even  the  wagon  that  carried  them  was  a  sutlicient  cu- 
riosity in  itself,  consisting  merely  of  one  huge  beam  on 
which  they  sat  astride.  They  had  unite  enough  to  do  to 
hold  on  while  this  queer  conveyance  bumped  and  jolted 
along  I  he  uneven  .streets,  now  plunging  into  a  nil  almost 
as  deep  as  a  ditch,  now  rattling  down  a  sleep  in<  line,  now 
living  around  a  sharp  corner  with  such  a  jerk  that  they 
seemed  to  be  shooting  bodily  oil'  into  space,  while  their 
Tartar  hackman,  with  a  glow  of  excitement  on  his  green 
isb,  narrow-eyed,  beardless  Care,  nourished  his  whip  and 
screamed  like  a  madman. 

But  Ernest's  delight  rose  higher  still  when,  quitting 
their  conveyance,  they  tramped  across  the  bridge  spanning 
the  deep  narrow  gully  which  separates  the  old  town  from 
I  he  new.  To  him  the  neat  stores  and  smart  public  build 
ings,  the  spacious  squares  and  leafy  boulevards  of  the 
"  Russian  quarter."  seemed  ijinlc  commonplace  compared 
with  the  straggling,  ditch  like,  rubbish-choked  streets,  the 
Hat-roofed,  mud-walled  hovels,  the  swarm  of  gay  colored 
robes  and  monkey  like  faces  that  tilled  I  he  "  Tartar  town." 
And  when  they  at  length  came  upon  a  real  mosque  uith 
real  domes  and  minarets,  and  a  wide-paved  court  \ard  be- 
fore il  (inclosing  a  small  lank,  beside  which  a  do/en  gayly 
dressed  Mohammedans  were  snioki n^-.  or  drinking  "  brick- 
lea,"  with  million  fat  in  it  instead  of  milki,  his  exullalion 
knew  no  bounds. 

But  his  at  ten  I  ion  was  suddenly  all  racled  by  mingled  on  I 
cries  close  at  hand,  and  the  rising  of  a  thick  cloud  of  smoke, 
reddened  uith   Maine,  above  the   \-<-.<  it's  of  I  lie  surrounding 
houses. 

"  I  say  !"   cried  he.  starling,  "  that  must  be  a  lire!" 

"To  be  sure  it  is,"  answered  Tom.  coolly;  "we  have 
one  here  almost  every  day.  Come  along  and  look  at 
it." 

A  few  steps  round  the  corner  brought  them  to  the  spot. 
A  pile  of  grass  spread  to  dry  on  the  Mai  roof  of  a  house. 
according  to  Central  Asian  custom,  had  caught  lire,  and 
was  sending  up  a  blaze  which  but  for  the  perfect  si  illness 
of  the  air  would  speedily  have  run  along  the  whole  street. 
every  roof  being  covered  with  heaps  of  grass  as  dry  as 
tinder. 

Even  as  it  was,  a  single  spark  might  at  any  moment 
kindle  a  general  conflagration,  and  Tom's  quick  eye  :,w 
at  once  that  there  was  not  an  instant  to  lose. 

"Come  along,  Ernest,''  cried  he;  "  let's  pull  clown  that, 
next  heap  before  it  catches.  Here  goes'."' 

So  saying,  he  vaulted  like  an  acrobat  upon  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  big  native  who  stood  close  to  the  wall,  and  be- 
fore the  astounded  man  had  time  to  open  his  mouth, 
scrambled  off  him  oil  to  the  projecting  corner  of  the  roof, 
where  he  was  seen  the  next  moment  flinging  down  huge 
armfuls  of  grass  on  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 

But  before  Ernest  could  follow,  a  heave  of  the  throng 
pushed  him  close  to  a  tall  man  in  a  rich  robe  of  crimson 
silk,  with  a  dark,  high-boned  Persian  face,  who  was  for- 
cing his  way  through  the  press  as  if  he  were  some  great 
man,  letting  fall  his  heavy  whip,  just  as  Ernest,  reached 
him,  on  the  bare  shoulders  of  a  poor  old  Tartar  cripple, 
who  screamed  with  pain. 

"Leave  the  poor  fellow  alone!''  shouted  Clairmont, 
springing  forward:  "don't  you  see  he's  a  cripple  ?'' 

For  all  answer  the  Persian  struck  at  Clairmont  him- 


self; but  this  was  an  unlucky  move.  Ernest  seized  the 
uplifted  arm  with  one  hand,  while  he  planted  the  other 
(little  dreaming  what  that  blow  was  one  day  to  cost,  him) 
so  full  in  his  enemy's  lean,  wolfish  face  as  to  send  the 
latter  reeling  against  the  wall. 

[TO    UK    COXTIJil  Kl>.] 


THE  LITTLE  MUSICIAN. 

HOW  many  of  the  readers  of  Yovxu  PEOPLE  ever  think 
of  the  great  results  that  may  flow  from  one  little  act 
of  kindness  J 

More  than  fitly  years  ago  the  famous  singer  Madame 
Malihran  was  sitting  in  her  room  in  one  of  the  grea.  ho- 
tels of  London.  She  was  very  tired,  for  she  had  just  been 
holding  a  large  reception,  during  which  some  of  the  great- 
esl  people  iii  England  had  visited  her.  Word  was  brought 
her  that  a  little  lad  wished  to  speak  with  her.  In  spite 
of  her  fatigue  she  irave  orders  that  he  should  be  ad- 
milled. 

A  little  flaxen-haired  fellow  of  some  ten  years  timidly 
entered  the  room,  and  taking  a  roll  of  paper  from  his 
pocket,  said:  "  Madame,  everybody  tells  me  that  you  are 
so  good,  so  very  good,  to  the  poor.  1  do  not  come  to  beg, 
madame.  though  we  are  so  poor  that  my  dear  mamma, 
who  is  very  ill.  has  to  do  without  both  food  and  medicine. 
I  Ih.  nigh  I  if  you  would  sing  my  lit  lie  song  at  one  of  your 
concerts  perhaps  somebody  would  buy  it,  and  I  could  get 
I  be  u  ine  and  medicine  the  doctor  has  ordered." 

Tears  stood  in  his  e\  es  as  he  made  his  request,  and  as  Ma- 
dame Malibran  look  the  manuscript  and  rapidly  hummed 
the  lines  over,  they  rolled  slowly  down  his  cheeks. 

"  I>id  yon  write  this  music,  a  little  child  like  you  '.'' 

"  Yes,  madame." 

The  lady  took  from  her  purse  a  coin  and  a  card  and 
pressed  them  into  the  boy's  band. 

"  Run  home  as  quickly  as  yon  can."  she  said.  "  and  get 
for  your  mother  all  she  needs,  and  this  evening  come  to 
m\  concert,  to  which  the  ticket  will  admit  you." 

1'ierre  did  as  he  was  told,  and  when  evening  came  he 
went  to  the  theatre,  presented  his  ticket,  and  was  taken  to 
a  seat  away  down  near  the  stage.  The  lights,  the  warmth. 
and  the  bright  colors,  to  say  nothing  of  the  crowd  of 
handsomely  dressed  gent  lemeu  and  ladies,  bewildered  and 
dazzled  him,  and  he  could  only  think,  "Oh,  if  mamma 
were  bill  here.  ]  should  be  SO  happy  I" 

Presently  he  glanced  at  the  platform,  and  there  stood 
his  lovely  lady.  She  be^.m  to  sing-,  and  little  Pierre's 
heart  throbbed  as  if  it  would  burst  as  the  familiar  notes 
of  his  own  little  song  fell  upon  his  ear.  Its  simple  mel- 
ody touched  the  audience  too,  and  it.  was  sung  again,  and 
al  its  close  the  house  rang  with  applause. 

How  the  rest  of  the  concert  passed  Pierre  never  knew. 
He  staid  until  it  was  all  over,  and  then  hurried  home  and 
told  his  wonderful  news. 

Several  days  after.  Madame  Malibran  called  upon 
Pierre's  mother  and  told  her  that  a  London  publisher  had 
offered  three  hundred  pounds  for  the  song,  which  offer 
she  had  accepted,  and  pouring  into  the  astonished  wo- 
man's lap  a  pile  of  notes  and  gold,  said, 

"Madame,  your  son  will  one  day  be  a,  great  composer. 
Thank  God  for  the  gift  He  has  given  him.'' 

Pierre  and  his  sick  mother  mingled  their  tears  and 
thanks  to  one  who  seemed  to  them  like  an  angel  sent  from 
heaven.  With  the  money  thus  obtained  Pierre  wasenabled 
to  pursue  his  musical  studies,  and  in  after-years  verified 
the  great  singer's  prediction,  and  became  one  of  the  most 
talented  composers  of  his  day. 

What  might  little  Pierre's  fate  have  been  if  a  cruel  serv- 
ant had  sent  him  away  from  the  great  singer's  door,  or 
if  Madame  Malibran  had  refused  to  listen  to  his  timid 
little  appeal  ' 


788 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


PYGMALION  AND  GALATEA. 

PYGMALION,  in  the  story-book, 
Desired  no  greater  bliss 
Than  waking  up  his  statue  fair 

By  giving  it  a  kiss. 
I  wonder  could  it  happen  now 
If  I  should  give  her — this. 

Oh  dear!  I've  been  and  done  it  now — 
She's  tumbled  on  the  floor. 

I  wonder  if  she  hurt  herself; 
I  guess  she  hurt  me  more. 

Girls  always  do  make  such  a  fuss, 
That  kissing  is  a  bore. 


HOW  PIICEBE  KEPT  THE 
LIGHT-HOUSE. 

BY    SOPHIE    SWETT. 

HE  Plum -Pudding  was  a 
rocky  island  two  miles  out 
of  Podunquit  Harbor;  in 
fact,  it  was  nothing  but  a 
rock,  although  some  scanty 

herbage  and  a  few  stunted  pine-trees  clung  to  its  sides. 
It  was  shaped  exactly  like  a  plump,  round  Christmas  pud- 
ding that  has  risen  well  in  its  pan,  and  the  rock  was  cu- 
riously mottled,  so  that  it  did  look,  if  one  had  a  lively 
imagination,  like  a  pudding  besprinkled  with  plums. 

All  around  the  Plum-Pudding,  concealed  by  the  water, 
were  ledges  of  rock,  as  if  the  pudding  had  spilled  over 
from  its  pan,  and  these  were  very  dangerous  to  mariners, 
so  a  light-house  had  been  built  on  the  tip-top  of  the  Plum- 
Pudding,  where  its  light  could  be  seen  for  miles  and  miles 
around. 


half  his  life,  but  two  or  three  narrow  escapes  from  ship- 
wreck had  convinced  him  that  it  was  desirable  to  have 
something  solid  beneath  one's  feet,  and  he  had  with  con- 
siderable difficulty — for  there  had  been  suspicions  that  Saul 
was  not  quite  "steady"  enough  for  a  light-house  keeper- 
obtained  the  position  on  Plum-Pudding  rock. 

Phoebe  was  born  there,  and,  her  mother  dying  when  she 
was  very  small,  had  grown  up  there  almost  as  wild  and 
untrained  as  the  sea-gulls  that  built  their  nests  in  the 
crevices  of  the  rocks.  Quite  as  untrained  she  might  have 
been  if  it  had  not  been  for  Aunt  Huldah  Maria,  who  lived 
on  Mouse  Island.  Mouse  Island  was  only  half  a  mile  from 
the  Plum-Pudding.  Like  the  Plum-Pudding,  it  was  named 
for  its  shape,  but  it  required  a  greater  effort  of  the  imagi- 
nation to  see  the  mouse  than  the  plum-pudding;  it  looked 
more  like  a  mouse  made  of  a  handkerchief  than  like  the 
genuine  animal.  But  it  had  a  veritable  mouse's  tail,  a 
long  narrow  strip  of  land  extending  out  into  the  water, 
and  on  this  strip  most  of  the  inhabitants  lived,  the  other 
part  of  the  island  being  rocky  and  barren.  Aunt  Huldah 
Maria  lived  on  the  very  tip  of  the  mouse's  tail,  in  a  queer 
little  house  that  was  made  of  the  hull  of  an  old  ship— 
the  very  ship  of  which  her  husband  had  been  mate  when 
he  sailed  on  his  last  voyage. 

There  was  a  school  on  Mouse  Island  for  six  months  in 
the  year,  and  Phoebe  went  to  it— sometimes ;  she  could 
not  go  regularly,  because — well,  although  it  is  very  sad  it 
miisi  be  told — because  it  was  not  always  safe  to  leave  her 
father  in  charge  of  the  light-house.  He  had  been  ' '  steady" 
ever  since  he  assumed  the  position  of  light-house  keeper, 
fifteen  years  before,  until  the  last  year.  Even  after  that 
long  period  of  successful  resistance  his  old  enemy,  the  love 
of  drink,  had  fallen  upon  him  and  conquered  him.  And 
nobody  knew  it  but  Phcebe. 

Captain  Saul,  as  everybody  called  him,  had  always  been 
in  the  habit  of  going  to  Jim  Bowling's  shop,  at  Podunquit 
Harbor,  which  was  a  sort  of  sailors'  "snug-harbor,"  to 
smoke  his  pipe  and  spin  yarns  with  his  old  cronies,  but  he 
never  drank  anything  there.  And  it  was  only  within  the 
last  year  that  he  had  brought  anything  home  from  the 
Harbor  to  drink.  Now  he  did  it  often;  indeed,  it  was  sel- 
dom that  he  came  home  without  it,  and  all  by  himself  he 
would  have  a  drinking  bout,  growing  merry  at  first  and 
singing  old  sea-songs  and  cracking  jokes,  and  poor  little 
Phoebe,  who  did  not  know  the  cause,  would  think  his 
mood  was  delightful,  and  wish  he  would  always  seem  as 
happy;  but  soon  he  began  to  drink  more  heavily,  and 
would  pass  from  the  merry  stage  into  the  cross  and  irri- 
table one,  and  then  become  stupid,  sleepy,  utterly  help- 
less. And  besides  her  grief  and  humiliation  Phoebe  was 
constantly  anxious  lest  her  father  should  lose  his  situa- 
tion. They  had  no  money,  and  where  in  the  wide  world 
could  they  find  another  home  if  they  had  to  leave  the 
Plum-Pudding  ! 

This  was  the  sorrow  and  care  that  had  changed  Phoebe's 
face  from  a  round  and  rosy  and  dimpled  little  one  so  that 
it  was  now  pinched  and  wan,  and  had  a  care-worn  look 
that  was  sad  to  see. 

There  were  several  men  who  wanted  Captain  Saul's 
position  at  the  light-house,  and  would  be  glad  to  report 
anything  that  they  could  discover  to  injure  him.  Every 
day  Phoebe  expected  that  the  blow  would  fall,  and  they 
would  be  obliged  to  leave  their  home. 

Aunt  Huldah  Maria  knew  that  something  was  the  mat- 
ter at  the  light-house,  but  what  it  was  she  could  not  dis- 
cover. Phoebe's  dead  mother  was  her  only  sister,  and 
she  had  never  approved  of  her  marrying  Captain  Saul. 
She  did  not  like  Captain  Saul,  and  Phoebe  knew  it  very 
well.  Aunt  Huldah  Maria  was  too  busy  with  her  house- 
hold cares  to  go  often  to  the  light-house,  but  she  watched 
and  questioned  Phoebe  very  narrowly  whenever  she  had 


Saul  Rundlett  and  his  little  daughter  Phoebe  kept  the    an  opportunity. 
Plum  Pudding  light-house.     Saul  had  been  a  sailor  for        "  That  child  .has  an  old  head  on  her  shoulders,  and  she 


OCTOBER  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


780 


would  go  to  the  stake  to  save  her  father!"  Aunt  Huldah 
Maria  declared.  "But  there's  something  wrong  over  to 
the  Plum-Pudding,  and  it's  my  belief  that  before  the  year 
is  out  Leander  Judkins  will  get  the  place.  He's  watch- 
ing Saul  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse,  and  if  Saul  has  taken 
to  his  old  ways,  la,  sakes !  what  can  that  child  do  to  save 
.the  place  for  him  ?" 

There  was  to  be  a  great  merry-making  on  Mouse  Isl- 
and. Phoebe's  oldest  cousin,  Maria  Cordilly,  was  to  mar- 
ry Jed  Collins,  who  was  soon  to  sail  as  mate  of  the  Flying 
Scud,  the  finest  ship  that  ever  hailed  from  Podunquit 
Harbor.  All  the  relatives  from  far  and  near  were  to  be 
there,  to  say  nothing  of  everybody  on  Mouse  Island,  and 
half  Podunquit  Harbor.  Aunt  Huldah  Maria's  oven  was 
t'u]]  of  go  "lies  day  and  night  for  two  weeks  Jbeforehand, 
and  tin-  tiddler  from  Podunquit  Harbor  was  engaged. 
Mouse  Island  had  never  known  such  festivity  before. 

But  when  Phoebe  said  she  "didn't  think  she  should 
conic-;  she-  would  rather  stay  at  home'  and  let  her  father 
come."  there  was  a  terrible  outcry.  All  the  children  un- 
der twelve-  began  to  scream  as  loud  as  their  lungs  would 
allow,  and  Maria  Cordilly  said  she  "didn't  care  to  have 
any  wedding  at  all  if  Phoebe  wasn't  coining  to  it."  Aunt 
Huldah  Maria  said  "Pirn-be  xliuiild  eome.  or  she  would 
know  the  reason  why."  And  that,  was  just  what  Phoebe 
didn't  want— that  Aunt  Huldah  Maria  should  "  know  the 
reason  why."  So  she  said,  if  she  possibly 
could,  she  would  come. 

She  tried  to  persuade  her  father  not  to 
go  to  Podunquit  Harbor  for  two  or  three 
days  be-fore  the  wedding,  but  011  the  very 
day  he  had  an  errand  that  could  not  be 
delayed,  he  said.  He  came  back  only  just 
in  time-  for  Phoebe  to  get  off  to  be  at  Ann! 
Huldah  Maria's  as  early  as  she  had  prom- 
ised; but  he  seemed  very  kind  and  af- 
fectionate, and  told  her  "not  to  worry." 
he  would  "take  good  care  of  the  light." 
Phoebe  had  looked  in  the  sail -boat  in 
which  her  father  went  to  Podunquit  Har- 
bor, and  found  no  bottle  or  jug  rolled  up 
in  the  sail,  as  she  sometimes  did.  And 
her  father  had  come  down  to  push  her 
boat  off,  and  kissed  her,  which  had  be- 
come quite  unusual,  and  said  "  it  was  a 
great  pity  if  the  mate  couldn't  go  off  on  a 
little  lark  when  the  captain  was  left  be- 
hind to  take  care  of  the  ship."  He  alwa  \  s 
called  the  light-house  a  ship,  and  Phcebe 
had  been  the  mate  ever  since  she  was  live 
years  old. 

Aunt  Huldah  Maria  rejoiced,  even  in 
the  midst  of  her  labors  as  hostess,  at 
Phoebe's  bright  face.  Perhaps  the  child 
had  only  been  overworked  or  a  little  ail- 
ing, and  there  was  not  so  much  trouble 
at  the  Plum-Pudding  as  she  had  fancied. 

But  even  while  the  fiddler  was  playing 
his  most  entrancing  strains  and  the  wed- 
ding cake  was  being  passed  in  most  gen- 
erous slices,  Phcebe  heard  a  whisper  that  made  her  heart 
stand  still. 

David  Judkins,  the  son  of  the  man  who  wanted  her  fa- 
ther's place,  was  talking  to  another  young  man. 

"  It  isn't  such  a  very  thick  fog,  and  I  never  saw  a  fog 
so  thick  that  you  couldn't  see  some  sign  of  the  Plum- 
Pudding  ligh  from  Mouse  Island.  And  if  it  can't  be 
seen  to-night  it  isn't  on  account  of  the  fog,  but  because  the 
light  isn't  there." 

"  And  the  Advance  is  up  in  the  harbor,"  said  the  other. 
"Captain  Saul  is  at  the  end  of  his  light-house-keeping  if 
you  are  right." 

"We   might   skirmish   round   a   little   and    see,"   said 


David  Judkins.  "It  would  be  a  pity  for  the  officers  not 
to  find  it  out,  you  know." 

The  two  young  men  went  out.  Phoebe  knew  well 
where  they  were  going.  The  Ad  ranee  was  the  govern- 
ment steamer,  whose  office  was  to  supply  the  light- houses 
and  see  that  they  were  kept  in  proper  condition.  David 
Judkius  was  going  to  give  warning  that  there  was  no- 
light  on  the  Plum-Pudding. 

Phoebe  slipped  out  of  the  house  unobserved.  The  fog 
had  come  so  suddenly  that  it  seemed  like  magic.  A  dense 
gray  mist  seemed  to  have  swallowed  up  the  world.  Only 
very  brilliant  rays  of  light  could  penetrate  that  fog,  but 
the  Plum  -  Pudding  light  was  the  finest  on  the  coast. 
Phcebe's  practical  eye  searched  anxiously  in  the  direction 
of  the  Plum-Pudding.  But  she  looked  in  vain  ;  there 
was  thick  darkness  everywhere.  The  lamp  on  the  Plum- 
Pudding  was  not  lighted. 

Phoebe  listened,  and  heard  the  steady  plash  of  retreat- 
ing oars.  David  Judkins  and  his  friend  were  rowing 
vigorously  to  Podunquit  Harbor. 

She  ran  down  to  the  shore  to  the  place  where  her  row- 
ooat  ua.s  fastened.  The  tide  had  gone  out,  and  left  it  so 
far  from  the  water  that  it  was  almost  impossible  for  her  to 
get  it  off.  But  by  dint  of  pushing  and  tugging  she  push- 
ed it  into  tin-  \vater  at  last.  She  got  in,  and  rowed  swiftly 
out  into  the  thick  darkness.  She  had  not  her  compass, 


'SHE    PUSHED    IT    INTO   TIIE    WATER    AT    LAST." 


which  she  usually  carried  in  her  pocket,  and  if  she  had,  it 
was  too  dark  to  see  -it  without  a  match.  Could  she  find 
her  way  to  the  island  ? 

Phcebe  rowed  swiftly  in  the  direction  where  the  Plum- 
Pudding  ought  to  be.  Presently  she  felt  that  she  had  gone 
far  enough.  But  where  was  the  island  ?  Why  did  she  not 
get  there  ?  Surely  it  was  time.  She  was  becoming  con- 
fused. The  bow  of  her  boat  seemed  to  be  pointed  toward 
the  open  sea.  Had  she  been  rowing  out  to  sea  instead  of 
toward  the  Plum-Pudding  ?  And  then  suddenly  it  seem- 
ed to  her  that  she  was  going  back  toward  Mouse  Island. 

Stout-hearted  as  she  was,  Phcebe  felt  her  courage  failing. 
She  let  the  oars  slip  from  her  hands  into  the  bottom  of  the 


790 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUMK  IV. 


boat,  and  uttered  a  faint  cry  of  distress.  It  was  so  faint 
a  cry  that  only  the  sea-gulls  could  have  heard  it.  but  an  an- 
swer seemed  to  come ;  the  sharp,  shrill  sound  of  a  horn.  It 
could  be  nothing  but  the  great  horn  of  the  light-house,  al- 
though it  seemed  to  come  from  the  direction  of  Podunquit 
Harbor.  The  sound  was  repeated;  it  was  the  light-house 
horn !  Phoebe  rowed  with  might  and  main,  and  very  soon 
a  dark-  shape  loomed  before  her  through  the  darkness,  and 
her  boat  grazed  the  rocks  of  the  Plum-Pudding.  It  was 
at  the  very  steepest  part  of  the  rocks,  but  Phcebe  could  not 
delay  to  row  to  the  landing.  Up  she  scrambled,  never 
heeding  that  her  clothes  were  torn,  and  her  hands  scratch- 
ed and  bleeding. 

It  was  difficult  to  find  her  way  to  the  light-house  in  the 
thick  darkness,  and  now  there  came  110  sound  to  guide  her. 
Never  before  in  Phoebe's  lifetime  had  night  found  that 
light-bouse  with,  darkened  windows.  And  what  had  that 
horn  meant  ?  A  terrible  fear  lest  something  worse  than 
she  had  thought  of  had  happened  to  her  father  made 
Phoebe's  steps  falter  upon  the  very  threshold.  She  push- 
ed the  door  open,  but  only  to  find  that  the  living-room, 
where  her  father  always  sat,  was  empty.  Phoebe  seized 
a  light  which  was  burning  on  the  table  and  ran  up  the 
light-house  stairs.  At  the  top  she  almost  stumbled  over 
her  father,  lying  in  a  heap,  the  great  horn  fallen  from  his 
hands,  his  red  face  and  heavy  breathing  showing  his  sad 
condition. 

Phcebe  sprang  to  the  lamp.     The  great  dazzling  light 
flashed  out.     There  was  a  few  moments  of  perfect  silence, 
and  then  there  came  a  shout  from  the  water  below.     Phoebe 
seized  the  great  horn  and  blew  a  blast,  in  answer. 
' '  Light  ahoy !"  shouted  a  voice  aga  in. 
Phoebe  seized  her  father's  arm  and  shook  him  with  all 
her  strength.     He  opened  his  eyes,  and  tried  with  her  help 
to  stand  upon  his  feet. 

"Put  your  head  out  of  the  window,  and  shout  'ahoy!' 
Oh,  try  your  best  to  do  it,  father!"  begged  Phoebe. 

He  did  try,  but  it  was  only  a  stammering  whisper  that 
came.      Phoebe  lowered  her  voice  to  the  gruffest  bass  notes  ! 
of  which  it  was  capable,  and  shouted  "  ahoy !"  herself. 

"  All  right!"  shouted  the  voices  below.      "  We  thought 
there  was  no  light!     The  fog  is  so  thick  that  we  could  not 
see  it  ten  rods  away !     Never  saw  such  a  fog  even  in  this 
place!     Advance  will  be  here  to-morrow  with  supplies.'' 
"Ay,  ay,  sir!''  shouted  Phcebe,  still  in  gruffest  tones. 
And  then,  to  her  great  relief,  she  heard  the  sound  of  re- 
treating oars. 

Then  she  helped  her  father  down-stairs  to  his  bed. 
She  did  not  go  to  bed  herself,  because  she  knew  that  her 
aunt  would  discover  her  absence,  and  send  somebody  in 
search  of  her,  and  it  was  not  long  before  her  cousin  Augus- 
tus Algernon  appeared. 

"Tell  Aunt  Huldah  Maria  that  I  wanted  to  come  home." 
was  all  that  Phoebe  would  say. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  found  your  way."  said  Augustus 
Algernon.  "The  fog  is  so  thick  that  I  couldn't  see  a 
glimpse  of  the  light  till  I  got  half-way  over.  Folks  over 
on  the  island  thought  it  wasn't  lighted.  But  they  may 
be  sure  you  never  could  have  got  here  without  any 
compass  if  it  hadn't  been." 

The  next  morning  Captain  Saul  came  to  Phoebe  and 
laid  his  bund  upon  her  head. 

"I  tried  to  light  the  lamp.  Phoebe;  I  didn't  think  I'd 
got  so  far  that  I  couldn't,  and  I  blew  the  horn  twice;  that 
was  all  I  could  do,''  he  said. 

"  I  might  never  have  got  here  but  for  that,  father,"  s:iid 
Phoebe,  taking  his  other  hand  in  hers.  She  did  not.  re- 
proach him;  she  never  thought  of  doing  that. 

"It  was  the  mate  that  saved  the  ship  last  night."  con- 
tinued Captain  Saul,  in  a  voice  that  trembled,  "but  with 
<!od's  help  the  captain  will  never  be  off  duty  again! 
He'll  never  dowse  his  peak  and  let  that  black  pirate  aboard 
again!''  pointing  to  a  bottle  which  Phoebe  had  seen  inanv 


times  before ;   "if  not  for  his  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  h is 
little  gal  he  swears  that  before  the  Lord." 

If  you  should  see  how  plump  and  rosy  Phoebe  has 
grown  you  would  know  that  Captain  Saul  had  kept  his 
word. 

Aunt  Huldah  Maria  had  her  suspicions  about  the  doings 
of  that  night,  but  she  never  expressed  them.  And  there 
are  no  signs  that  Leander  Judkins  will  ever  keep  the 
light-house.  The  fog  that  was  "  so  thick  you  couldn't  see 
the  Plum-Pudding  light  ten  rods  away"  is  still  famous. 


<;<>LL>FINVHES,  AND  HOW  TO  TRAIN  THEM. 

THE  goldfinch  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  bird 
pets.  It  is  a  native  of  Europe,  but  large  numbers  are 
brought  to  this  country,  and  may  be  purchased  from  any 
bird-fancier.  It  is  constantly  in  motion,  and  its  song, 
though  not  powerful,  is  remarkably  sweet.  Besides  this, 
it  is  a  hardy  little  creature,  is  easily  tamed,  and  soon  be- 
comes accustomed  to  the  hand  that  feeds  it. 

The  favorite  food  of  the  goldfinch  when  wild  is  thistle 
seed,  but  he  may  be  fed  on  the  ordinary  seeds  used  for 
birds,  and,  as  a  special  treat,  the  seed-pods  of  the  common 
groundsel  may  be  given  to  him.  As  a  cage-bird  the  gold- 
finch stands  in  the  first  rank.  He  should  have  a  romny 
habitation  wherein  he  can  disport  himself,  and,  if  proper- 
ly managed,  be  allowed  to  fly  out  now  and  then  to  stretch 
his  wings.  In  a  very  little  while  he  will  display  no  alarm, 
but  will  hop  about  the  table  in  search  of  any  food  which 
may  take  his  fancy. 

A  goldfinch  may  be  trained  to  a  variety  of  tricks. 
Among  others,  he  will  pull  up  a  little  bucket  of  water 
from  a  tiny  well,  or  draw  np  a  slope  to  within  his  reach 
a  small  cart  containing  seed. 

These  interesting  performances  may  be  taught  as  fol- 
lows: The  little  cart  which  runs  upon  the  inclined  strip 
of  wood  has  a  string  attached  to  it,  and  the  little  water- 
bucket  is  in  like  manner  suspended  from  the  perch,  and 
rests  in  the  miniature  well  below.  To  teach  the  tricks 
quickly  there  should  be  another  and  a  longer  string 
fastened  to  the  cart,  and  held  by  a  person  some  distance 
off  and  out  of  sight.  When  the  bird  is  disposed  to  eat, 
the  cart  should  be  steadily  drawn  up  toward  him,  and 
when  he  has  taken  a  few  seeds  it  should  be  lowered  away 
a  little,  whereupon  he  will  try  with  his  feet  to  hold  the 
string,  and  to  pull  up  the  cart  a  little  higher,  until  at  last 
he  will  use  his  beak  and  feet  tog-ether,  and  become  master 
of  the  trick.  With  the  water-bucket  a  similar  course  is 
taken,  but.  where  one  does  not  wish  to  devote  so  much 
time  to  the  teaching,  the  little  cart  can  be  fastened  at  first 
within  reach,  containing  but  a  few  seeds.  Then  it  can 
be  moved  a  little  farther  off,  a  few  more  grains  being  put 
in.  and  so  on.  The  task  is  thus  left  mainly  to  the  bird, 
who  moves  tlie  cart  nearer  and  nearer,  until  he  has  accus- 
tomed himself  to  draw  it  up. 

Some  persons  keep  goldfinches  on  perches  chained 
to  one  of  the  supports  by  the  leg.  This  is  cruelty,  and 
can  not  be  approved  of.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  this  bird 
upon  a  perch  iixed  to  a  board  to  which  the  little  seed  cart 


OCTOBER  16,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


791 


is  drawn  from  an  incline  near  by;  but  we  consider  this 
;i  bud  arrangement,  because  the  little  fellow  lias  what  is 
commonly  called  a  brace  around  his  body,  which  is  so 
fixed  that  he  is  able  only  to  hop  down  from  the  perch  to 
the  board  to  come  to  the  string  by  which  he  pulls  up  his 
tiny  cart;  and  in  addition  to  this,  the  brace  must  produce 
considerable  irritation.  The  same  object  can  be  accom- 
plished, as  already  described,  within  a  cage  where  the  bird 
lias  freedom  of  action. 

The  goldfinch,  in  a  natural  state,  builds  one  of  the  most 
graceful  and  beautiful  nests  known.  It  is  generally  con 
st  meted  on  the  fork  of  some  high  branch,  and  is  swayed 
hither  and  thither  by  the  wind,  or  the  bird's  motions,  so 
that  the  young  birds  are  accustomed  to  the  rocking  and 
swinging.  It  matters  not  to  our  little  friend  whether  he 
is  on  his  head  or  his  heels.  When  in  search  of  food  he 
dings  to  the  thistle  stems,  pecking  away  at  the  downy 
seeds  till  disturbed  or  satisfied,  and  then  darts  off  with  a 
merry  twitter.  To  imitate  the  natural  motion  of  the 
liranches  there  should  be  a  swing  in  every  cage  which 
the  weight  of  the  bird  will  move,  so  as  to  produce  the 
swaying  motion. 


THE  GRIZZLY  TUBS  OF  EEL  RIVER. 

BY  AKTIirii  I.IXDSLEY. 

T  was  just  about  the  middle  of  No- 
vember. Three  of  us,  John  \\~il- 
son,  Harry  Ed \\anls,  ami  nixself. 
were  camped  on  a  beautiful  clear 
and  rapid  stream  which  forms  one 
of  the  upper  sources  of  Sweet  water 
Creek.  We  had  been  hunting  for 
the  previous  two  months  through 
that  wild  Northwest  region,  and 
finding  here  grass  and  water  in 
abundance,  with  an  amount  of 
game  equal  to  anything  that 
could  be  asked,  we  remained  day 
after  day  without  breaking  camp, 
wandering-  off  in  the  morning 
wherever  our  fancy  led  us.  and 
returning  to  our  pleasant  camp- 
ing-ground at  night.  We  made  use  of  this  resting-time, 
as  it  might  be  called,  for  the  purpose  of  more  fully  pre- 
paring and  drying  the  many  skins  of  animals  and  birds 
which  we  had  been  continually  collecting.  We  left,  there- 
fore, much  material  at  our  camp  each  morning-  when  we 
went  out,  well  secured,  it  is  true,  from  the  inroads  of 
wolves  or  coyotes,  but  without  a  thought  of  any  human 
being  coming  near  it. 

We  were  surprised,  therefore,  though  not  unpleasantly 
so,  to  find,  one  evening  on  our  return,  a  visitor  at  the 
camp  ground,  cooking  his  supper  as  quietly  as  though  he 
had  built  that  camp-fire  for  his  own  special  service.  The 
outspoken  heartiness  of  the  plains  soon  made  us  ac- 
quainted with  each  other.  Our  new-comer  introduced 
himself  as  an  old  trapper  by  the  name  of  Jake,  and  it  was 
not  till  several  days  later  that  we  learned  by  accident  that 
his  full  name  was  Jacob  L.  Saiiford.  He  had  been  hunt- 
ing and  trapping  in  the  mountains  more  than  twenty 
years,  and  was  just  the  man  we  were  rejoiced  to  see,  for 
hi;1,  experience  went  back  to  the  days  before  the  mining 
excitement  reached  that  region  and  brought  in  such 
crowds  as  to  render  game  comparatively  scarce.  His  sto- 
ries were,  of  course,  to  us  full  of  interest.  WTe  were,  for 
instance,  wide  awake  on  the  subject  of  bears,  for  up  to 
the  present  time  no  bear  had  fallen  to  our  lot,  neither  had 
we  even  seen  the  traces  of  one.  It  was  in  answer  to  a 
question  from  Harry  that  our  new  friend  exclaimed : 

"Bears!  well,  I  should  say  I  had  seen  'em.  Why, 
Cap,  when  I  fust  come  into  these  here  mountains  you  had 


to  keep  your  eye  peeled  for  bears,  I  can  tell  you,  and  it 
wasn't  black  bears  nor  cinnamons  neither;  them's  play- 
things. But  old  Ephraim  himself  was  around,  might 
turn  up  in  'most  any  thicket,  and  it  was  no  part  of  his 
business  to  get  out  of  the  way.  He  left  that  for  you 
to  do.  A  grizzly  as  big  as  an  old  buffler  bull  is  a  sight 
more  apt  to  hunt  than  to  be  hunted.  And  if  he  will 
only  let  you  alone,  it  is  a  good  plan  for  you  to  let  him 
alone.'' 

I  took  from  my  portfolio  a  drawing  of  an  old  bear  and 
cubs  such  as  you  see  in  the  picture,  and  asked  him  what 
he  thought  of  it.  It  took  his  attention  at  once. 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  pooty.  I  reckon  the  fellow  that 
drew  them  two  cubs  must  have  seen  the  little  critters 
playing;  else  he'd  have  never  got  'em  in  the  shape  he  has. 
That  picture  "minds  me  of  a  pair  of  cubs  I  had  once,  and 
the  way  they  used  to  play  with  one  another.  These  fel- 
lows here  might  be  about  four  months  old  or  so.  Mine 
wasn't  hardly  four  days  when  1  got  'em,  and  a  skeery 
time  I  had  of  it,  sure  enough.  Maybe  I  had  better  tell 
you  the  story." 

"Yes.  yes.  Jake,  the  story,  the  story.  Roll  out  your 
yarn." 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  was  hunting  away  over  in  Californy 
then.  I  was  all  through  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  Coast 
Range  for  four  year  and  better,  and  this  time  that  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  I  had  my  camp  away  to  the  head  waters 
of  Eel  River,  on  the  back  of  the  Iron  Mountain,  about 
thirty  miles  north  of  Clear  Lake.  Elk  was  plenty  through 
all  that  range,  and  elk  meat  paid  so  well  in  'Frisco  market 
that  I  made  quite  a,  business  of  shooting  them.  One 
morning  I  struck  the  trail  of  a  little  band,  and  started  off 
to  follow  it  out,  being  pretty  sure  to  get  one  shot,  and  prob- 
ably two.  whenever  I  could  come  up  with  them.  They  had 
been  moving  along-  lively,  and  by  the  time  it  was  noon  1 
could  not  see  that  the  trail  was  any  fresher  than  when  I 
first  struck  it.  That  was  nothing,  though;  I  knew  they 
must  stop  to  feed,  and  I  could  follow  the  trail  if  it  took  me 
a  month.  But  a  little  after  noon,  in  crossing  an  arroyo,  I 
saw  in  the  soft  ground  a  sign  that  drew  me  off  quick  from 
following  the  elk  any  further  just  then.  It  was  the  tracks 
of  a  grizzly,  and  a  bigger  grizzly  at  that  than  I  had  ever 
set  my  eyes  on.  Some  of  the  tracks  was  where  there  was 
mud,  and  showed  so  plain  that  I  could  measure  them, 
and  that  hind-foot  covered  fourteen  inches  every  time  it 
went  down.  The  tracks  were  not  very  fresh,  but  I  knew 
I  could  follow  them,  and  I  was  off  on  the  trail  right 
sharp.'' 

"But  stop,  Jake ;  look  here.  You  told  us  a  few  minutes 
ago  that  it  was  always  a  good  plan  to  let  grizzlies  alone. 
Seems  to  me  preaching  and  practice  ought  to  go  to- 
gether." 

• '  Well,  there,  boys — there  you  have  got  me.  sure.  I  did 
say  so,  and  what  I  said  was  true,  every  word  of  it,  and  I 
should  not  have  done  right  not  to  say  it.  Meddling  with 
grizzlies  is  dangerous  business.  Let  'em  alone  every  time. 
That  is  my  advice  to  you,  but  somehow  I  never  do  it  my- 
self, and  like  as  not  I  will  get  caught  for  it  one  of  these 
days.  I  am  such  a  fool  that  I  should  start  right  off  after 
one  to-morrow  if  I  knew  where  he  was.  And  so  I  put  out 
on  that  trail  as  I  told  you.  It  led  up  toward  the  mountain, 
and  then  off  around  and  into  a  big  caiioii  that  comes  down 
alongside  of  the  northwest  spur.  There  is  a  heavy  growth 
of  spruce  all  through  the  lower  part  of  the  canon,  and  I 
lost  the  trail  and  found  it  again,  and  lost  it  and  found  it 
again  a  dozen  times,  until,  with  about  an  hour  of  sun  up 
it  was  gone  completely,  and  I  was  beginning-  to  think 
what  a  fool  I  was  to  be  hanging  round  a  thick  cafiou  like 
that,  so  near  night,  and  so  many  grizzly  signs  about.  All 
at  once  I  came  out  of  the  spruce  thicket  into  an  opening 
by  the  side  of  the  high  rocks,  and  there  in  a  snug  corner 
lay  two  little  cubs,  no  bigger  than  small  puppies,  fast 
asleep." 


792 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"  I  did  not  stop  even  to  think.  I  snatched  them  both 
up,  put  them  into  my  bag,  jammed  them  down  tight  to 
prevent  their  making  any  noise,  and  started  just  as  fast  as 
I  could  run  to  get  to  the  lower  edge  of  the  thicket  and  the 
caiion.  I  knew  that  their  mother  would  be  after  me  as 
soon  as  she  came  back,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  certain 
death  for  her  to  get  hold  of  me.  But  I  knew  too  that 
them  cubs  was  worth  a  lot  of  money,  and  I  was  bound  t<> 
have  it  though  I  had  to  fight.  The  fight  I  cared  nothing 
about  if  I  could  only  get  into  a  good  place  for  it.  and  that 
I  was  sure  of  as  soon  as  I  was  beyond  the  spruce. 


'"WELL,  NOW.  THAT   IS    POOTY.' 

"When  I  came  out  into  the  open  ground  the  sun  was 
just  under,  and  I  looked  around  in  a  hurry.  Along  the 
middle  of  the  valley  all  was  clear,  but  toward  the  side 
were  loose  rocks  and  ledges.  I  turned  in  so  as  to  be 
within  about  fifty  yards  of  the  rocks,  and  then  kept  on. 
I  had  not  gone  two  hundred  yards  when  I  heard  the  old 
bear  coming.  And  she  was  a-coming  now,  you  may  guess ; 
she  was  just  tearing  through  the  brush,  with  a  sort  of  snort 
or  howl  that  was  enough  to  make  your  hair  stand  on  end. 

' '  Before  she  was  out  where  she  could  see  me  I  sprang 


in  toward  the  ledge,  and  when  I  was  within  twenty  yards 
of  it  I  dropped  the  two  cubs  out  of  my  bag,  leaped  behind 
the  nearest  rock,  and  there  I  stood  with  my  rifle  cocked, 
waiting  for  her.  I  had  not  long,  of  course,  to  wait;  but 
it  was  long  enough  for  me  to  get  my  breath  and  be  ready. 
' '  When  she  broke  cover,  and  I  could  fairly  see  her,  I 
thought  that  she  looked  larger  and  heavier  than  aiiy 
buffalo  bull  on  all  the  plains,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  I 
was  right.  She  was  running  only  by  scent,  but  she  was 
going  at  her  full  speed.  She  did  not  see  her  cubs  till  she 
was  within  a  few  yards  of  them.  She  gave  a  kind  of  yell, 

bounded  to  them,  smelled 
at  them  for  not  more  than 
a  second,  and  then  looked 
up  for  me.  That  was  the 
chance  I  was  waiting  for, 
and  of  course  I  took  it.  As 
her  head  came  up  to  a  lev- 
el, my  ball  went  plum  cen- 
tre through  her  right  eye, 
and  her  brain,  and  on  down 
her  neck,  as  I  found  it  aft- 
erward. There  was  one  less 
grizzly  left  in  the  world  to 
hurt  people. 

"The  first  thing  I  did 
was  to  pick  up  my  cubs, 
and  put  them  back  in  the 
bag,  and  tie  them  tight. 
Then  I  had  time  to  look  at 
the  old  one,  and  of  all  griz- 
zlies I  have  never  seen  the 
like  of  that  big  brute.  I 
had  no  way  to  tell,  but  I 
have  always  thought  she 
must  have  weighed  nigh 
upon  eighteen  hundred 
pounds.  Perhaps  not,  but 
that  was  the  way  she  look- 
ed to  me. 

' '  It  was  too  late  to  do 
anything  about  skinning 
her  that  night,  so  I  camp- 
ed where  I  was.  It  took 
me  all  the  next  day  and  the 
day  'after  that  to  skin  her 
and  get  her  skin  and  meat 
and  cubs  down  to  my  camp 
on  the  river.  But  I  did  get 
'em  down,  and  I  made  a 
better  thing  of  it  than  I 
should  have  done  to  fol- 
low up  the  elk.  I  sent  the 
meat  down  to  the  Bay.  and 
it  brought  me  §96.  I  kept 
the  cubs  till  they  were  about 
six  months  old,  and  then 
I  took  them  down  myself, 
and  each  one  brought  me 
aWaas-Molitorslug.  Pret- 
ty good,  wasn't  it  ?" 

"Brought  you  a  what  : 
Waas — something  ?" 

'"Oh,  I  forgot  that  you  never  saw  any  of  such  things. 
In  the  old  times  in  'Frisco  they  had  fifty-dollar  coins, 
and  those  with  the  stamp  of  Waas  &  Molitor  were  just  as 
good  as  United  States  money.  Six-sided  they  were,  not 
round." 

"Two  slugs  :  that  made  $196  for  that  one  afternoon's 
work !  Pretty  fair  doing,  Jake  ;  though  I  do  not  know 
about  standing  the  rush  of  that  old  bear  for  it.  I  am 
quite  inclined  to  think  your  advice  is  better  than  your 
example.  I  shall  let  grizzlies  alone." 


OCTOBER  16,  1883. 


HARPEITS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


793 


THE   BABY    KNIGHT.— SEE  PAGE  7M. 


794 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  KNIGHTHOOD  OF  A  BABY  PRINCE. 

BY  ELIOT  McCORMICK. 

f^\  ENTURIES  ago,  when  countries  were  at  war  all  the 
\J  time,  and  nearly  every  man  was  a  soldier,  the  bravest 
ami  most'distinguished  officers  were  called  knights.  These 
would  go  into  battle,  forming  the  body-guard  of  the  King, 
or  attended  by  their  followers  and  servants,  while  in  time 
of  peace  they  would  meet  one  another  in  tournaments,  or 
mock  fights,  or  travel  around  the  country  in  search  of 
adventures. 

In  those  days  adventures  were  not  hard  to  find.  The 
country  swarmed  with  robber  bands,  who  fell  upon  vil- 
lages and  unprotected  castles,  and  took  noble  ladies  and 
helpless  children  captive;  so  that,  even  when  there  was  no 
war,  the  knight's  sword  had  no  chance  of  becoming  rusty. 
It  was  a  rude  and  lawless  life,  and  in  some  things  the 
knight  was  rude  and  lawless  himself,  but  his  vow  of 
knighthood  bound  him  to  respect  the  innocent  and  help- 
less" to  defend  the  Christian  faith,  and  to  do  all  in  his 
power  to  bring  wrong-doers  to  justicr. 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  knights  was  known  as  the 
Chevalier  Bayard,  and  the  charge  which  his  mother  gave 
him  when  he  received  his  sword  will  show  what  the  true 
knight  was  expected  to  be:  "Serve  God,"  she  said,  "and 
He  will  aid  thee:  be  sweet  and  courteous  to  every  gentle- 
man in  divesting  thyself  of  all  pride.  Be  not  a  flatterer 
or  tale-bearer,  for  this  kind  of  people  come  not  to  great 
perfection;  be  loyal  in  word  and  in  deed;  keep  thy  word, 
be  helpful  to  the  poor  and  orphan,  and  God  will  reward  it 
to  thee.''  One  may  be  a  knight  nowadays  if  he  will  only 
follow  this  good  advice. 

Generally  the  knights  were  associated  together  in  bro- 
therhoods or  orders,  some  of  which  have  lasted  to  this 
day,  though  they  do  not  any  longer  serve  the  purpose  for 
which  they  were  intended.  Thus  the  Order  of  the  Garter 
in  England  has  survived  for  over  five  hundred  years, 
while  that  of  the  Golden  Fleece  in  Spain  and  Austria  is 
very  nearly  as  old.  It  was  to  the  latter  that  Charles  the 
Fifth,  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  belonged,  and  the  picture 
011  the  preceding  page  shows  him  receiving  the  sword- 
Mroke,  or  accolade,  as  the  ceremony  of  making  a  knight 
was  called,  when  he  was  only  three  months  old.  In  the 
picture,  it  is  true,  he  looks  older  than  that ;  one  would  hard- 
ly think  that  so  young  a  baby  could  sit  up  so  straight  and 
look  so  dignified  and  wise;  nevertheless,  he  was  born  on 
the  24th  of  February,  1500,  and  it  was  the  llth  of  June  in 
the  same  year  when  he  was  knighted. 

Over  his  shoulders  one  sees  the  collar  of  the  order,  and 
hanging  from  it  the  fleece  or  sheep-skin  of  gold  which  was 
chosen  by  the  knights  as  their  symbol,  because  Bruges, 
where  the  order  was  founded,  was  the  centre  of  the  wool 
trade  in  Flanders.  Below  him.  in  the  foreground,  appear 
the  knights  of  the  order.  At  one  side  stand  his  mother, 
the  poor  crazy  Joanna  of  Castile,  and  Margaret  of  York, 
the  sister  of  Edward  IV.  of  England,  while  on  tile  other 
Baldwin  of  Lonnoy  gives  the  little  baby  prince  his  acco- 
lade. It  has  always  been  thought  remarkable  that  the 
little  Duke  of  Cumberland,  son  of  George  II.  of  England, 
should  have  been  knighted  when  he  was  four  years  old. 
but  Charles  V.  began  his  knightly  career  even  before  he 
had  left  his  nurse's  arms. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  career  was  a  long  and  rvertful 
one.  No  royal  child  was  ever  born  to  a  richer  inheritance 
than  the  little  Charles.  His  father  was  Philip,  Archduke 
of  Austria,  who  was  the  sou  of  Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many, and  Maria,  daughter  of  Charles  the  Bold,  Duke  of 
Burgundy ;  while  his  mother,  Joanna,  was  the  daughter  of 
the  great  Spanish  King  and  Queen ,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 
The  latter  you  will  remember  as  the  patron  of  Columbus, 
through  whose  generosity  he  was  able  to  make  the  great 
voyage  that  resulted  in  the  discovery  of  America. 

At  the  death  of  his  grandfather,  Ferdinand,  when  he  was 


only  sixteen,  he  became  King  of  Spain;  and  three  years 
later,  when  his  other  grandfather,  Maximilian,  also  died, 
he  was  elected  Emperor  of  Germany.  This  was  the  high- 
est distinction  in  the  world  at  that  time.  Before  he  was 
twenty  years  old  Charles's  dominions  spread  over  the  Span- 
ish Peninsula,  the  Netherlands,  Germany,  the  West  Indies, 
and  so  much  of  the  American  continent  as  had  yet  been 
discovered.  The  sun  never  set,  it  is  said,  upon  his  realms. 
No  man  on  earth  was  so  powerful  as  he;  few,  indeed,  so 
powerful  have  ever  lived. 

Nearly  all  his  lifetime  was  spent  in  war.  The  countries 
which  he  governed  were  so  widely  separated,  and  includ- 
ed so  many  different  people,  that  in  one  part  or  another 
revolution  was  going  on  most  of  the  time;  while,  if  things 
were  quiet  at  home,  his  constant  enemy,  Francis  I.  of 
France,  might  always  be  depended  on  to  keep  him  fight 
ing.  Between  his  own  people,  whether  in  Spain,  Flan- 
ders, or  Germany,  the  French,  and  the  Turks,  Charles 
was  kept  all  the  time  busy,  though  he  found  opportunity. 
meanwhile,  to  govern  his  empire  in  a  wise  and  vigorous 
way.  and  to  oppose  with  as  much  vigor,  but  with  less  wis- 
dom, the  new  German  reformer,  Martin  Luther. 

It  is  interesting  to  remember  at  this  time,  when  people 
are  celebrating  the  four  hundredth  anniversary  of  LutherV 
birth,  that  between  him  and  the  Emperor  Charles  there 
was  a  perpetual  conflict..  Charles  could  not  be  anything 
else  but  a  Catholic:  and  when  he  heard  how  boldly  Lu 
ther  had  nailed  his  confession  of  faith  to  the  church  door 
at  Wittenberg,  and  what  a  stir  the  brave  act  was  making 
throughout  Germany,  he  began  to  be  alarmed  for  the  safe- 
ty of  the  Romish  Church. 

He  was  barely  twenty-one  years  old  at  that  time,  but 
he  felt  himself  the  defender  of  the  faith,  and  according- 
ly summoned  Luther  to  appear  before  the  Diet  or  Con- 
gress of  German  states,  which  was  to  meet  at  Worms. 
Fortunately  for  Luther.  Charles  was  young,  and  milder 
in  temper  than  lie  was  in  later  life.  Years  afterward 
he  reproached  himself  with  having'  neglected  his  duty, 
for  the  sake  of  his  word,  in  allowing-  Luther  to  get  away 
free. 

One  of  the  bravest  and  best  things  that  Charles  ever 
did  was  the  capture  of  the  fortress  of  Goletta,  in  Tunis. 
This  was  held  by  the  Moorish  pirate  Barbarossa,  who  had 
submitted  to  the  Sultan  Solyman,  and  had  received  com- 
mand of  the  Ottoman  fleet.  In  the  fort  were  three  hun- 
dred Christian  prisoners,  siitl'ering  all  the  terrible  hard- 
ships which  the  Moors  were  accustomed  to  inflict  on  their 
captives,  and  probably  never  expecting  again  to  be  free. 
Charles,  however,  by  a  bold  rush  captured  the  fort, 
knocked  oft'  their  chains,  and  allowed  them  to  turn  the 
guns  of  the  fortress  upon  their  former  masters,  which  we 
may  believe  they  willingly  did. 

Toward  the  end  of  his  life  his  wars  were  less  successful, 
and  although  Luther  bad  died.  Protestantism  still  lived 
and  thrived.  All  his  efforts  had  not  succeeded  in  kill 
ing  it.  and  at  length  he  had  found  himself  uiiwillingh 
obliged  to  recognize  it  as  the  religion  of  a  great  part  of 
his  subjects.  Age  and  sickness,  too,  came  upon  him.  and 
when  he  was  iifty-six  years  old,  and  had  reigned  forty 
years,  he  concluded  to  resign  his  crown  to  his  son,  Philip 
II.,  and  retire  himself  to  a  monastery. 

In  the  same  room  where  the  little  baby,  so  many 
years  before,  had  received  the  stroke  of  knighthood,  the 
great  monarch  now  laid  down  his  power.  Perhaps 
there  were  some  there  who  remembered  the  earlier  scene, 
and  recalled  all  the  important  events  that  had  hap- 
pened between,  and  thought  mournfully  how  little  roy- 
alty and  wealth  and  power  add  to  the  enjoyment  of 
life,  and  how  soon,  at  any  rate,  all  these  things  must 
pass  away.  Charles  lived  two  years  after  that,  and 
died  in  the  monastery,  having  taken  an  odd  fancy,  three 
weeks  before  his  death,  to  celebrate  his  own  funeral 
rites. 


OCTOBER  16,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


7'.).") 


'DICK     AND     D." 

BY    LUCY    C.    LILLIE. 

-i  tli  or    ol    *"  !XIiltlr  eel's     Utirjruiii ,"    *iIN'ciii,**    t-t 


CHAPTER  XV. 
AN   UNEXPECTED  MEETING. 

A XI'  meanwhile  where  u'cm  our  friend  Dick  De\ -ine  .' 
As  soon  as  lie  had  decided  that  at  all  risks  his  duly 
lay  in  going  on  to  the  Doctor's  house,  a  new  courage  seem 
ed  to  inspire  him,  and  for  half  an  hour  he  walked  briskly, 
determined  not  to  lose  hope. 

But  a  strange,  weary  feeling  seemed  to  creep  over  the 
boy's  limbs.  As  he  walked  a  dull  pain  in  his  head  half 
blinded  him  from  time  to  time;  sometimes  the  level  land- 
scape looked  blurred;  there  was  a  ringing  in  his  ears: 
and  at  last  the  poor  boy  was  compelled  to  sit  down  on  the 
road-side  and  rest.  Dick  never  knew  how  long  lie  sat 
there,  holding  his  throbbing  head  in  his  hands,  and  trying 
in  a  dull  fashion  to  rouse  himself  and  go  on.  Over  and 
again  he  repeated  to  himself,  "I  miiat  go  on — I  must  1:0 
on.  for  Master  Dick's  sake;"  and  at  last,  when  the  after- 
noon shadows  were  lengthening,  the  poor  lad  staggered 
to  his  feet  and  pressed  onward  again. 

But  this  time  to  walk  fast  was  beyond  his  power:  to 
walk  at  all  was  well-nigh  impossible,  but  his  strong  will 
and  resolution  kept  him  up.  Slowly  and  very  wearily 
he  crept  along  the  road,  with  just  enough  instinctive  sense- 
to  keep  to  the  railroad  track,  which,  as  he  knew,  must  lead 
him  to  Mat-plains  station. 

The  day  closed  in  early,  for  it  was  one  of  those  chill 
springs  when  the  snow  has  lasted  beyond  its  time,  and  the 
bleakness  of  the  country  looks  unnatural.  Had  Dick  fell 
like  himself  he  would  have  noticed  how  lonely  the  coun- 
try was,  how  few  houses  there  were,  and  how  dark  and 
•cold  the  night  was  going  to  be;  but  though  a  shiver  ran 
through  his  tired  frame  from  time  to  time,  he  took  no  heed 
•of  all  these  things;  a  fever  seemed  to  be  in  his  brain,  and 
bis  eyes,  fixed  always  on  the  road  before  him.  refused  to 
look  right  or  left. 

Another  halt  he  had  to  make.  This  time  he  sat  down 
near  to  a  tall  iron  gateway  above  which  a  lamp  was 
swinging. 

In  a  very  feeble,  absent  way  the  boy  tumid  and  looked 
in  through  the  gate.  The  action  was  not  curious,  but  just 
in  the  mechanical  way  sick  people  move  and  think.  He 
sa\v  that  within  the  gate  there  was  a  lawn,  and  a  short 
carriage  drive,  beyond  which  there  twinkled  the  lights  of 
a  long,  irregularly  built  brick  house. 

The  poor  wanderer  watched  the  lighted  windows  for  a 
few  moments  vaguely,  wondering-  who  lived  there,  and 
whether  it  might  be  well  to  go  to  the  door  and  ask  them 
for  a  glass  of  water,  and  to  show  him  the  way  to  Mat-plains. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  burning  thirst,  and  surely  no  one 
could  refuse  him  a  drink  from  the  well.  After  a  moment's 
further  thought  the  boy  crept  to  his  feet  and  slowly  stag- 
gered up  the  dark  avenue  toward  the  house. 

As  he  neared  it  he  became  conscious  that  the  blinds  in 
the  lower  windows  had  not  been  drawn,  and  that  some 
of  them  were  so  near  the  ground  that  he  could  look  in 
upon  the  rooms  quite  easily.  From  a  longing  to  be  near 
some  one,  to  see  some  human  being,  the  boy  approached 
one  of  the  windows,  and  pressed  his  white,  haggard  face 
against  the  pane. 

What  he  saw  was  a  long  room  with  desks  and  forms, 
and  about  the  stove  a  group  of  boys,  who  seemed  to  be  en- 
joying themselves  greatly,  for  smiles  were  on  every  face. 

The  weary  little  watcher  outside  feasted  his  eyes  on 
this  sight  for  a  moment,  and  then,  suddenly  putting  up 


*  Besrun  in  No.  199,  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


his  hands,  he  clutched  wildly  at  the  window,  and  uttered 
a  cry  that  was  half  joy,  half  despair.  Out  of  the  group  one 
boy  had  suddenly  turned  toward  him,  and,  feeling  that  the 
ground  was  slipping  from  beneath  his  feet,  Devine  recog- 
nized his  own  "  Master  Dick."  Unconsciously  his  weary 
footsteps  had  brought  him  to  the  gateway  of  Bearing's 
school,  Barnabas  Academy. 

"  What's  that  noise  ;"  Bearing  said,  suddenly. 

"  I  saw  a  face  looking  in  here,"  Packer  exclaimed.  "  It 
was  a  great  big  red  face  with  whiskers."  Packer's  imagi- 
native faculty  rarely  deserted  him. 

''It's  gone  now,"  Dick  Bearing  said,  going-  over  to  the 
window.  Then,  as  he  leaned  out,  he  suddenly  exclaimed. 
"I  say,  fellows,  here's  a  go!  There's  somebody  fallen 
down  out  there." 

"  In  a  lit  ;"  suggested  Packer. 

"  I  don't  know.  Some  one  had  better  call  Mr.  Mason." 
Dick  had  no  sooner  said  the  words  than  he  darted  off  to 
the  teacher's  room,  there  hurriedly  explaining  what  he 
had  seen. 

Mr.  Mason  was  a  very  energetic  young  man.  Giving 
Bearing  permission  to  follow  him,  he  had  made  his  way 
around  the  house  to  the  place  where,  having  taken  one 
long  agoni/ed  look  at  Master  Dick,  poor  Devine  had  fall- 
en to  the  ground  unconscious. 

Mr.  Mason  had  brought  a  lantern  with  him.  As  they 
approached  the  prostrate  figure  he  turned  its  rays  full 
upon  the  poor  lad's  face,  and  then  another  cry  burst  upon 
the  air.  Dearing-  was  down  on  his  knees  in  a  moment, 
crying  out:  ''It's  Dick  Devine!  Oh,  it's  my  Dick  Devine! 
Oh,  call  Dr.  Filliper!  I  knew  he'd  come  back." 

In  a  few  minutes  a  very  general  confusion  prevailed. 
Dr.  Filliper  appeared,  and  with  him  his  kind-hearted  wife, 
to  whom  Dearing  poured  forth  the  story,  mingled  with 
reproaches  and  fears  that  poor  Devine  had  been  found 
too  late. 

No  sound  reached  the  lad's  ears.  He  seemed  entirely 
unconscious,  and  all  voices  were  hushed.  Dearing  and 
one  of  the  servants  carried  the  boy  into  the  Doctor's  part 
of  the  house,  where  he  was  laid  on  a  lounge  in  one  of  the 
quietest  .rooms.  The  poor  lad's  ragged,  travel-worn  gar- 
ments, his  worn  face,  with  its  look  of  want  and  fever, 
smote  the  boys  around  him  with  a  pity  touched  with  awe, 
for  might  it  not  well  be  that  he  had  been  led  there  just 
to  die  '. 

The  boys  gathered  outside  the  door,  hushed  into  unusu- 
al stillness,  while  Dr.  Filliper  and  his  wife  got  the  wan 
derer  into  bed.  Then  Dick  Dearing  appeared,  and  in  a 
low  voice  said  he  was  to  be  allowed  to  drive  with  Mr. 
Mason  over  to  the  Cedars,  three  miles  beyond,  and  fetch 
his  grandfather  to  see  Dick  Devine. 

"  He  has  begun  to  talk,"  Dearing  said,  in  an  awe-struck 
whisper:  "and  it's  all  about  my  grandfather,  and  how  he 
must  get  to  him  to-night." 

The  boys  were  deeply  impressed.  Even  Packer  forbore 
to  jest  or  indulge  in  any  antic,  and  Will  Thomasoii  had 
the  grace  to  say  in  Bearing's  ear: 

''I'm  sorry  I  made  fun  of  him.  If  he  gets  well  I'll 
give  him  my  old  suit — if  mother  '11  let  me." 

And  it  was  for  this  reason  that  Dick  Bearing  made  bis 
sudden  appearance  at  the  Cedars. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

HICK    DEVINE   IS   VERY   ILL. 

BlC'K  opened  his  eyes  wearily,  and  looked  about  him. 

Where  was  he  '.  What  did  all  this  mean  '.  Could  it 
be  that  this  was  heaven  ''. 

The  thoughts  floated  past  his  mind,  scarcely  disturbing 
him.  In  a  few  moments  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  then, 
wearily  as  before,  opened  them  again. 

He  was  Iving  on  a  bed  that   seemed  softer  than  anv- 


796 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


'HE    WAS    LAID    ON    A    LOUNGE    IN    ONE    OF    THE    QUIETEST    ROOMS." 


thing  he  had  ever  dreamed  of  touching.  Dainty  linen, 
soft  blankets,  and  a  white  counterpane  were  over  him. 
He  was  in  a  large  old-fashioned  room,  furnished  in  chintz, 
and  with  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  a  big  wood  fire  blazing 
on  the  hearth.  Near  his  bed  was  a  table,  and  on  it  were 
ranged  some  medicine  bottles  and  a  clean  tumbler.  Be- 
fore the  fire,  in  an  easy-chair,  a  young  lady  was  sitting, 
with  some  wool-work  in  her  hands.  Dick  looked  at  her 
intently,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  she  could  solve  the  mys- 
tery. Her  face  was  turned  so  that  he  could  see  its  profile 
— the  pleasant  lines  of  the  brow  and  mouth  and  chin  that 
lie  seemed  to  remember  somewhere,  long  ago;  but. where  ? 
Then  suddenly,  in  a  weak  voice,  he  said, 

"It's  Cousin  Maud." 

The  youug  lady,  who  was  Miss  Field,  turned  quickly  a 
very  pleasant  face,  and  came  up  to  the  boy's  side,  putting 
a  cool  hand  on  his  brow. 

"  Are  you  better,  Dick  ?''  she  inquired,  gently. 

"Have  I  been  sick  ?"  the  boy  said,  wearily.  How  hard 
it  seemed  to  talk ! 

"Yes,  indeed!"  Miss  Field  said;  "you've  been  in  this 
bed  a  whole  week.  Don't  you  remember  coming  here  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am,"  the  boy  said,  looking  at  her  with  earnest 
eyes.  "  Where  is  it  ?" 

' '  It's  Barnabas  Academy.  You  fainted  outside  the 
house  one  night  when  you  were  going  to  Dr.  Field's,  and 
then  we  brought  you  in  here.  Now  you're  going  to  get 
well,  but  you  mustn't  talk  any  more  for  a  while." 

Maud  put  a  spoonful  of  something  very  nice  to  his  lips, 
and  how  delightful  it  seemed  just  to  lie  still  on  the  soft  bed 


in  that  dreamy  quiet  fashion  !  Slowly  his  thoughts  shaped 
themselves  into  memories  of  what  had  happened.  He  re- 
called the  dreadful  weeks  with  Gurdle — his  flight  and  its 
purpose — then  he  said : 

"  Where's  Norry,  ma'am,  please  ?" 

"He's  very  well,"  said  Maud,  cheerily.  "  He  is  staying 
just  now  at  Nancy  Barlow's.  She  begged  to  keep  him. 
He  was  so  happy  there." 

"Oh  yes,  "said  Dick,  contentedly  ;  "I  remember."  In 
a  few  moments  he  said,  "Didn't  I  see  Master  Dick  here, 
ma'am — in  a  window  !" 

"Yes;  and  as  soon  as  you  are  a  little  better  you  shall 
see  him  again.  Now  try  to  sleep.  Dick." 

And  Dick  did  fall  into  a  very  peaceful  slumber,  from 
which  he  awoke  much  better,  and  it  seemed  to  the  lad  as 
though  days  and  nights  of  delicious  quiet  and  content- 
ment passed  dreamily  by.  Sometimes  he  knew  Dr.  Field 
came  to  see  him ;  sometimes  a  kind  elderly  lady,  whom 
Miss  Maud  called  Mrs.  Filliper.  He  had  delicious  cooling 
drinks,  and  white  grapes,  and  occasionally  Miss  Maud 
read  aloud  to  him  in  her  sweet,  happy  voice. 

The  book  which  Maud  read  to  him  somehow  made 
the  boy  understand  how  and  why  all  this  goodness  had 
come  into  his  life.  He  could  not  say  how  it  was  he  felt 
it.  but  the  old,  old  story  of  our  Saviour's  coming  down 
to  earth  fell  upon  his  ears  as  part  of  the  message  of 
peace  and  sweet  contentment  that  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  him  from  some  other  world  As  Maud  read  Dick 
would  look  wistfully  at  her,  thinking  he  knew  why  her 
face  with  its  plain  features  was  so  sweet  and  comforting; 


OCTOBER  Iti,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


797 


why  he  liked  to  have  her  morning  and  night  kneel  down 
helping  him  to  say  his  simple  prayers.  They  had  a  great 
many  quiet  talks,  sometimes  about  the  stories  in  the  New 
Testament,  sometimes  about  what  Dick  would  do  when  he 
got  well.  It  was  during  this  time  that  Miss  Maud  fell  to 


calling  her  little  patient  "D."— just  to  distinguish  him 
from  Dick  Bearing,  and  always  afterward  the  boy  was 
known  by  that  initial,  which  I  think  people  now  suppose 
was  a  regularly  given  name. 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


~V\7"EE  Maggie  came  into  the  room, 
\  i      She  came  in  skipping,  hopping: 
"See  all  the  lovely  things  I  got 
While  I  was  out  a-shopping." 

"  Come  here  and  let  me  see  them,  dear," 

Said  pretty  Jenny  Linnet; 
"I'll  make  a  picture  of  them  all, 

And  surely  put  you  in  it. 

"This  basketful  of  cat  and  dog 
We'll  place  upon  the  top  there; 

To  guard  the  nest  and  eggs  so  blue 
We  will  say  is  doggie's  care. 

"And  here's  a  boy  that  cried  for  cake, 
And  laughed  because  he  got  it; 

And  here's  a  lady  called  Miss  Kate, 
Right  on  this  lovely  pocket. 


WEE  MAGGIE'S  SHOPPING. 

BY  LILLIE  E.  BARE. 

"And  here's  a  crab  that  goes  sideways, 
With  claws  so  fierce  and  strong; 

Who  knows  but  that  this  fine  guitar 
Will  tame  him  with  a  song? 

"This  basket  with  the  scarlet  bow 

Upon  the  purple  palette, 
Well  put  it  just  yourself  below, 

To  please  dear  Dolly  Smallet. 

"Behold  this  turtle  with  sweet  face 
Upon  his  brown  back  painted; 

We'll  put  him  in  this  corner  here, 
And  play  that  he  has  fainted, 

"Because  this  wicked  Polly  bird 
Here  on  this  lovely  bracket 

Has  called  him  '  Soup,  green  turtle  Soup, ' 
And  vowed  his  shell  to  crack  it. 


"Here  is  Fanny  Flora  Francis 

Georgiana  Ella  Brown; 
She's  as  black  as  her  umbrella, 

And  the  pet  of  Blackville  town. 

"How  very  grand  that  kitty  is! 

Now  is  she  plotting  treason, 
Or  is  she  mad  as  mad  can  be, 

Without  a  rhyme  or  reason? 

"Ah,  see  these  two  poor  Princes  here, 
Child  captives  in  the  Tower! 

I  wonder  why  they  were  not  saved 
From  wicked  Richard's  power. 

"Right  in  the  middle  goes  this  plaque; 

That's  you  and  dolly  on  it — 
The  sweetest  girl  in  all  the  world, 

From  boots  to  feathered  bonnet." 


798 


HAEFEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


W1 


PHEX  nuts  in  the  hollow 

And  nuts  on  the  hill 
Are  ready  for  gathering, 

(iff  with  a  will. 

Follow  your  leader  with  whoop  and  halloo, 
For  the  breezes  are  crisp  and  the  sky  is  blue. 


CHARLES  CITV  COLNTV.  YimaMA. 

I  am  a  clergyman's  daughter,  and  one  ..I  seven 
children  We  came  from  Maryland  t<>  tin-  State 
three  and  a  half  years  ago.  I  havi-  three  sisters 
and  three  brothers.  All  of  us  are  Marylauclers 
except  mother  and  baby  brother,  who  are  \  p 
giniaus  In  this  county  were  born  two  of  the 
Presidents  of  the  United  states,  viz..  Harrison 
ami  Tvler.  The  name  of  the  birth-place  of  the 
i.  inner  is  Berkley,  that  of  the  latter  is  Greenway. 
I'M  sident.  Tyler  lived  a  number  of  years  at  slier, 
wood  Forest,  which  is  quite  near  us.  His  widow 
has  but  recently  left  there  to  reside  in  Kichm.  .ml. 
One  of  his  sons  still  lives  there.  My  little  bro- 
ther Lloyd  has  a  big  white  cat,  which  was  a  pre- 
sent from  Miss  Pearl  Tyler  when  it  was  a  little 
kitten.  Lloyd  named  him  Tippecanoe-and  Ty- 
ler-too,  but  calls  him  Tippy,  our  present  home 
is  near  James  Hiver.  on  one  bank  of  which  I  have 
seen  the  ruins  of  the  little  church  in  which  Poea- 
honias  was  baptized. 

This  is  a  rather  lonely  place.  Last  spring  a 
deer  pursued  by  dogs  ran  through  our  yard  Not 
long  after  that  a  (tick  of  wild  turkeys  came  to 
our  gate,  and  had  a  battle  with  our  tame  ones. 
in  which  the  latter  were  the  victors.  The  tune 
allowed  by  law  for  killing  wild  turkeys  had  just 
expired.  This  is  the  month  for  killing  s.n.i  a 
kind  of  reed-bird  here  in  the  marshes.  Some- 
times they  arc  shot,  but  they  are  generally  knock- 
ed down  with  paddles  on  wet  nights.  This  is  a 
rather  mysterious  bird,  suddenly  appearing  in 
great  numbers  early  in  September,  and  then  as 
suddenly  disappearing  about  the  first  heavy  frost. 
No  one  ever  sees  them  come  or  go,  and  no  young 
ones  or  eggs  are  ever  seen.  Colored  people  here 
believe  ihai  "they  turn  to  frogs."  They  are  so 
fat  that  they  require  no  butter  or  lard  in  cook- 
ing, and  are  delicious. 

Among  us  we  have  a  good  many  pets.  Baby 
Reginald  being  the  dearest  of  all ;  but  my  letter 
is  so  long  that  1  can  tell  you  of  only  one.  When 
we  left  Maryland  a  friend  gave  me  a  pretty  white 
pullet,  which  I  named  Nannie  T.,  for  tin-  kind 
donor.  This  hen  is  now  a  great-great -grandmo- 
ther, and  looks  young  and  well. 

A  kind  friend  in  Philadelphia  has  been  sending 
us  iiAKi'EU's  Yorsi;  PEOPLE  nearly  two  rears, 
thus  -lying  us  much  pleasure  week  by  week. 

ETTIE  E. 

Thank  you  for  this  charming  letter. 


is  a  creek  behind  the  house  where  I  can  hsh.  and 
I  have  some  cousins  there,  and  we  do  have  snub 

|  times'     (Grandpa  has  some  white  rabbit- 

tor  baby  and  me,  am)  grandma  says  they  are  go- 
ing to  try  and  get  them  tame.  We  have  soin 
bantam  chickens,  a  cunning  little  black  dog 
named  Gyp,  a.  cat.  and  two  tunny  little  kitties. 
I  thought  "liaising  the  'Pearl'  "  was  splendid. 
Wasn't  Tommy  Tucker  naughty,  though?  Mam 
ma  has  written  this  for  me.  1  can  write  some, 
hut  not  very  well  yet.  Uood-by.  PERCYS 

Do  you  know,  Percy  dear,  that  this  little  letter 
has  had  to  wait  for  its  turn  so  very  long  thai  I 
fear  you  have  thought  me  a  very  unkind  Post- 
mistress? Sometimes  I  fancy  the  little  letters 
l.,ok  ii])  reproachfully  when  they  have  been  kept 
here  in  the  box  a  long  while,  wishing  for  fresh 
air  and  light,  and  the  wings  to  fly.  which  thej 
get  when  the  types  print  them  nicely  in  our  pa- 
per. Now,  dear,  you  must  write  again,  and  tell 
me  whether  yon  and  sister  still  enjoy  riding  on 
the  bicycle.  'l  am  always  pleased  when  I  hear 
of  plays  and  toys  which  the  brother  and  sister 
may  share  together. 

P,:,TT<\ M  IF,  Ph\NM  I A  AM  A. 

I  am  a  girl  thirteen  years  old.  who  likes  to  read 
the  Post-office  Box  very  much.  I  live  in  a  white 
frame  lions,-,  surrounded  by  a  large'  yard  consist- 
ing of  two  or  three  acres.  We  have  a  great  many 
apple  pear,  and  cherry  trees,  besides  maple  trees 
and  others.  In  the  lane  which  is  in  front  ot  our 
house  there  is  a  large  tree  which  I  call  my  cot- 
ton tree  :  it  has  an  arm-chair  and  bed.  horses,  and 
a  L'reat  many  ..(her  things.  This  is  where  [snend 
a  greet  deal  of  my  summer  vacation, wit h  a  tnend 
win.  lives  near  me.  H.  ^- 

cjuite  a  remarkable  live.  1  think  yon  will  have 
io  explain  about  the  horses,  the  bed.  and  the 
chair,  for  I  do  not  understand  how  they  can  all 
exist  in  a  tree 

The  brown  leaves  are  flying; 

The  red  and  the  gold 
Make  lovely  October 

A  joy  to  behold. 
We  trip  with  gay  footsteps 

To  school  and  to  play. 
And  merrily  live  through 

Each  beautiful  day. 


OAKI.AMI,  c'o  TO. KM  < 

I  have  written  two  letters  before  this,  hut  as 
they  have  not  been  printed.  I  am  going  to  write 
again  I  guess  you  get  tired  of  letters,  don't  v"  ' 
The  last  time  I  wrote  to  you  I  was  living  in  the 
country,  but  now  I  live  in  Oakland.  I  will  be 
here  until  after  Christmas.  I  like  Oakland  very 
much,  but  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  back  to  my  home 
in  the  country  and  see  all  my  pets.  Were  yon 
ever  in  California,  Mrs.  Postmistress  y  I  think  if 
you  ever  came  you  would  never  want  to  ir<>  back. 
and  maybe  I  would  see  you  some  time.  Wouldn't 
that  be  nice? 

I  have  two  cousins  living  here,  a  little  boy  and 
girl.  The  little  girl's  name  is  Dotty,  she  is  two 
years  old. and  I  think  she  is  very  sweet.  -My  lit- 
tle sister  Lois  wants  to  know  if  she  may  write  to 
you.  She  is  seven  years  old,  and  she  loves  to 
read  in  your  paper.  I  like  "Prince  Lazybones" 
and  "  Dick  and  I)."  very  milch,  only  I  would  like 
to  know  who  !  is  :  it  must  be  the  other  Dick.  I 
am  going  to  the  circus  next  Thursday.  Won't 
\oii  please  print  my  letter.  Mrs.  Postmistress  V  1 
hope  it  is  not  too  long,  for  I  want  so  much  to  s,.e 
how  it  looks  in  the  Post-office  Jiox. 

DAT-ION   \\ 

It  looks  very  well. 

PAINFSVII  1 1 ,  OKI.' 

MY  DEAK  POSTMISTRESS, — I  have  written  yon  one 

letter,  but  think  it  must  have  1 n  addressed 

wrong,  so  I  thought  I  would  try  again.  I  like 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  very  much,  and  can  hardly  wait 
when  it  eomes  for  mamma  to  read  it.  I  go  to  a 
I  it  tie  school,  ami  am  learning  to  read  pretty  well, 
so  that  by-aml-by  I  shall  read  for  myself.  I  am 
seven  years  old,  and  havealittlesisterthree  years 
old.  I  went  with  my  papa  to  Cleveland  iwhich 
is  only  an  hour's  ride  from  Painesville)  the  other 
day.  and  he  bought  me  a  bicycle.  It  has  a  seat 
on  behind  for  sister,  and  we  strap  her  in.  It  can 
be  taken  off  when  she  does  not  ride.  I  ride  to 
school  on  it. 

I  am  going  to  my  grandpa's  by-and-by.    There 


Rip  Van  Winkle  is  said  to  have  slept  so  many 
years,  and  passed  his  house.  They  sell  confec- 
tionery, lemonade, fruit, etc.. there, and  over  the 
door  is  a  painting  of  Rip.  which  looks  as  though 
it  had  often  been  washed  by  the  rain  and  wind. 
In  this  picture  he  is  just  awaking  from  his  long 
sleep,  and  underneath  are  the  words  :  "oh.  thai 
lla"on  :  that  wicked  flagon !  What  excuse  shall 
I  make  to  Dame  Van  Winkle:-"  I  admired  the 
beautiful  scenery  on  the  mountains,  and  should 
like-  very  much  to  go  there  again.  EMMIE. 


Let  me  whisper  a  secret  to  Harry. 

\\  ho  can't  find  his  ball  to-day: 
You  will  never  lose  things,  little  Harry, 

If  you're  careful  to  put  them  away. 

t'MVRF.SIrV    01     Vll-.liJMA. 

I  thought  I  would  write  you  a  letter  for  the 
first  time.  I  live  up  on  a  mountain,  and  we  can 
see  the  nine  iMdge  Mountains  very  plainly.  Most 
of  the  boys  and  girls  tell  about  their  pets,  but  1 
have  lion'e  here.  We  used  to  live  ill  Cincinnati. 
Ohio  and  I  had  a  cat  and  a  dog  then.  My  cat  had 
no  name,  but  my  dog  had  enough  for  both  ;  its 
name  was  Tippeeanoe-and-Tyler-too.  I  have 
taken  Yorxn  PEOPLE  since  the  fifty-third  num- 
ber, ami  like-  it  better  than  any  other  paper  I  have- 
seen.  Mamma  ami  papa  like  it  too.  I  haven't 
any  brothers  or  sisters,  like  some  children  ;  and 
I  think  it  must  be  very  nice  to  have  a  lot  of  chil- 
dren in  the  house.  I  wish  Lizzie  X.  P.  would 
write  to  me.  and  I  would  answer  her  gladly.  1 
think  "Dick  and  I.)."  is  ever  so  nice.  MAMIE  S. 


OAK  R]i».t ,  N.-KTM  CAROLINA. 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  old.  and  am  going  to 

sel [  al  i  la  I;  Ridge  Institute.  North  Carolina.     I 

think  il  is  all  excellent  school.  Then'  are  in  at- 
tendance this  term  about  one  hundred  and  lifty 
sl  mlents.  I  do  not  live  at  I  lak  Ridge  :  I  live  at 
Salem  My  father  manufactures  wagons  This 
is  tin-  lirst  time  I  have  written  for  the  Post  office 
I'.ox  I  have  been  taking  YOTNO  I'rorii  one 
month,  ami  think  it  is  the  best  paper  for  children 
in  the  l"n  it  ed  states.  When  I  eo  home  next  sum 
iner  I  intend  to  make'  a  boat  like  tin-  one  I  »aw 
in  your  paper.  We  have  two  literarv  societies 
and  a  military  department  connected  with  our 
school.  I  belong  to  one  of  the  societies.  Will 
\on  be  so  kind  as  to  send  me  a  subject  for  de 
hale  '.'  ROBHIE  S.  X. 

"  Which,  upon  the  whole,  was  the  swifter,  the 

ha  i r  the  tortoise!"    Tell  me  which  side  in  the 

discussion  Itobbie  takes.     Most  of  our  boys  eon 
sider  YOUNG  I'l-.ort.K.  the  best  paper  in  the  world. 


XAPA  VALI.FI,  CALIFORNIA. 

1  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  I  think  I 
can  outweigh  any  girl  who  takes  Yorxi;  PKOPLK  : 
I  weitrh  135  pounds.  Do  you  think  that  is  very 
much?  I  live  on  a  farm:' there  are  330  acres  in 
my  father's  farm  I  never  lived  in  the  city.  I 

have  c|tiite  a  g 1  many  pets.     1  hail  a  dog 'lhat 

was  over  twelve  years  old.  but  he  is  dead  now. 
We  felt  very  badly  when  he  died.  His  name  was 

-lip      My  sister  and  I  have  a  pony  named  1'rii 

Sister  and  I  ride  him  t..  school.  We  have  one 
mile  to  go  My  sifter  is  four  years  older  than 
myself.  She  has  a  large  white  rabbit;  and  we 
also  have  four  eats  and  one  kitten.  1  think 
Yor\c;  1'Koi'i.E  is  the  nicest  paper  I  ever  saw;  I 
wish  it  would  come  twice  a  week  instead  of  once. 
I  am  taking  music  lessons.  Mamma  has  over  one 
hundred  little  chickens  and  thirty  turkeys. 

JENNIE  E. 

What  a  pretty  sight  it  must  be  to  see  so  many 
chicks  crowding  together  to  be  fed!  I  suppose 
you  help  mamma  in  the  care  of  them. 


BIUW.KI.VX,  NEW  YOUK. 

My  little  brother  takes  YOUNO  PEOPLE,  and  I 
read  the  stories  to  him.  We  both  like  the  paper 
very,  very  much,  I  enjoy  reading  Our  Post-office 
Uox.  and  hope  I  may  see  this  letter  among  the 
others 

I  spent  my  vacation  at  a  ph near  tin-  cat  skill 

Mountains  The  house  stood  on  a  high  hill.  1 1 

winch  we  had  an  excellent '  ew  of  the  Hudson. 
Y\  e  went  on  top  oi  th,-  mountains  one  day.  We 
started  at  5.30  A.M., and  reached  home  at  ;  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  I  stood  on  the  rock  on  which 


IU  MMKUHKI.I>,  l'r\s<*  I  \  tMA. 

I  have  two  litt  1,-  kittens,  and  they  are  just  love- 
ly :  My  sister  is  going  to  teach  school  in  our 
school-house  this  fall,  and  my  two  cousins,  about 
my  a  ire.  arc  staying  at  our  house,  going  to  school, 
a  ml  we  thought  it  would  be  real  nice  to  have  cor- 
respondents  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  old 
from  a  different  place.  I  think  "Nan"  was  a 
splendid  story,  and  I  think  we  will  like  the  new 
serial  quite  as  well  by  the  way  it  starts  out.  I 
ha\e  two  canary-birds,  and  they  a  re  both  singer- 
hear  Postmistress,  it  is  my  bed-time,  and  I  must, 
get  up  bright  and  early  to-morrow  morning  to 
get  my  work  done  in  time  for  school.  Will  any 
one  Writ  ing  to  any  one  of  us  please'  say.  "Care  of 
George  l.andon."  J.  P.  L..  L.  S.T.,and  L.  L.  F. 


CLEVELAND,  OMIO. 

I  am  a  bill  •  girl  seven  years  old.  I  have  the 
brothers  and  one  sister.  My  grandpa  sends 
Yin  M.  I't  ..ei  i  to  my  brother.  I  like  the  Jimmy 
la-own  stories  best  of  all.  I  want  very  much  to 
go  to  school  this  tall,  and  I  think  my  father  will 
I,  i  me  I  like  to  read  very  much,  and  usually  I 
don'l  u-et  .  noiigh  books.  My  sister  is  writing  I  his 
forme  \owgood-by.  RAY  '  s 


HIISTUN,   AUss  M  III  -F.TTS. 

Some  children  have  pets.    I  have  one.  a  large 
kitten  named  Tibbit,  and  my  sister basono  named 

Muff.     I  expect  to  go  i,,  St.  John  iii  October  il 

mamma  will  let  me.  I  have  nearly  a  hundred 
paper  dolls  of  all  kinds,  and  nn«si  .it  them  can 
siaad  up.  I  am  going  to  send  a  verse  called 

A  PRETTY  STORY. 
Now  all  of  you  give  heed  unto 

\  tale  1  shall  relate 
of   fanny.  Madge,  and  little  Tom. 

A  cat.  and  a  green  gate. 

Fanny  had  a  basketful 

of  what  I  can  not  say; 
Hut  tin  the  road  she  slowly  went. 

While  pussy  mewed  at  play. 

Madire  and  Tom  came  on  behind, 

With  doll  and  whip  so  gay. 
The  gate  was  green,  the  eat,  was  black. 

And  bright  the  lovely  day. 

Jillt  when  thev  reached  the  garden  gate-- 
Now what  I  say  is  true — 

Tin-  story's  gone  from  my  poor  head. 
And  so  good-by  to  you.  ETHEL  II. 


M..C-ST  CLEMKXS.  MI.-ICII-.AN. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eight  years  old.  I  have  not 
many  pets-  only  two  lambs  and  a  dear  little  bro- 
ther. I  like  all  the  stories  of  YOUNI;  PEOPLE,  but 
Jimmy  I'.mwns  stories  are  the  funniest.  This 
is  my  lirst  letter.  JULIA  W. 


AI.AMF.I.A.  CALIFORNIA. 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  live  in  San 
Francis. -o,  and  go  to  school.  I  like  YOI-M;  Pi:o- 
I't.E  verymuch.  I  am  sick  now.  and  am  stopping 
with  my  grandma  and  grandpa  in  Alameda.  -My 
grandpa  is  Prof  essor  of  Music,  and  has  taught  me 
and  my  little  sister  six  years  old  several  pn  lt\ 
little  songs.  My  sister  sings  alto,  and  I  sing  so- 
prano. Grandma  calls  us  Kellogg  and  Cary.  It 
you  ever  come  out  here  we  will  sing  tor  you. 
Good  by.  MAMIE  A. 


NEWAF.K.  Nt-:w  JKKSKV. 

I  am  a  little  girl  seven  years  old.  My  brother 
takes  Yin  NO  Pioi-ii:.  1  iro  to  school,  which  I 
love-  very  much.  I  try  to  be  a  good  girl  Last, 
l'  rm  1  -ot  a  certificate,  and  I  stood  No.  1.  My 


OCTOBER  16,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


799 


aunty  took  it.  and  had  it  framed.  Mamma  was 
very  happy  wlit-n  she  saw  it.  and  likes  me  to  be 
good.  I  have  a  little  kitten  which  I  rail  Tiny  :  it 
is  a  poor  little  kitty  :  it  is  not  a  bit  pretty,  but  it 

is  a  g 1  kitty.     When  I  crow  up  I  am  going  to 

be  a  teacher.  Is  the  Wiggle  put  in  the  paper  to 
make-  us  learn  to  draw,  or  to  make  us  laugh? 
Can  any  one  try?  \--MK  I.. 

Any  one  may  try  to  draw  a  Wiggle  They  are 
meant  to  aniline  yon.  and  also  to  help  \  on  in 
learning  to  dra\v.  Look  earefully  over  the  la-t 
published  page  of  Wiggles,  and  you  will  under- 
stand how  UM  ehildren  try  to  find  out  the  art-  \ 
ist's  idea.  \Ve  will  be  glad  lo  ha\.  you  Send 
some  of  your  efforts. 

CHAKI  KST  i\.  S. .(  in   C.uiuT  is  A. 

My  mime  i<  ( 'aniline  Frances,  but  they  eall  me 
.lim.  I  vole  for  a  hoy  in  the  Cot,  because  r.ubber 
is  a  boy.  and  I  am  a  tomboy.  I  want  to  lell  \.iii 
something:  I  pulled  out  two  of  my  little  teeth 
my  own  self,  and  two  new  ones  ;Lre  coming; 
ili."  \\ere  like  little  grains  of  white  rice,  and  I 
wanted  to  send  one  for  you  to  sec.  with  my  pie- 
Hire,  but  they  would  not  let  me.  so  I  put  it  under 
my  pillow,  aiid  a  fairy  came  and  put  a  pieee  of 
money  in  ils  place 

I  am  only  six.  and  can't  write  anything  but  my 
name,  whieh  I  will  sign  at  tin  end  llnl-ln  r  i- 
writing  this  ft ir  me  liul.ber  and  Nonie  had  par 

ties  ,,n u  their  birthdays,  but    I  haven't  had 

one  yet.  When  I  was  six.  it  was  the  mump-,  but 
I  had  a  ealce  with  six  candles  ;  when  I  was  live, 
it  was  1  he  whooping  cough,  and  w  hen  I  was  It  iilr. 
I  was  in  the  country,  ami  berries  had  made  me 
sick.  I  hope  I  shall  be  well  when  I  am  seven: 
then  I  will  have  a  party,  and  invite  I/MI.  \\  i  I.  ,1 
very  sociable  wilh  you. 

Your  little  friend.  (   \KIUK  T. 

I  add  a  postscript  to  ask  you  to  beg  Mrs  Lillie 
not  to  lei  anuhing  happen  to  Norry  \\'c  were 
so  sail  when  Dick  came  home  and  Norn  wasn't 
there  ! 

Is  Sadie  well  now:-    Ih.w  did  >ln ie  tube 

I  in  I  in  t  he  ('tit'-  rlcase  tell  me  ill  what  paper  it 
told  about  her  I  vote  fora  box 

Our  dolls  look  beautiful  in  thrir  sailor  suits. 

I  think  you  are  right  kind  to  worry  with  us 
children  so  NONIE  T 

I  have  already  \otc.l  for  a  l.o> 

\\  c  I,  ili  I  i  ari'ie  t  hat  if  all  the  children  w  hi  i  n  ad 
1  .u  M.  Pi-.oi'i.K  sent  you  their  pictures  ami  their 
old  teeth.  \"il  would  have  to  build  a  hall  for  the 
pic  t  n  res.  and  eall  it  the  Kogncs'  ( iallery,  and  you 
could  pa  \  c  a  street  with  the  teeth. 

This  is  the  last  you  will  hear  from  the  three 

little  T  's  until  next   summer        \c\t  week  we  will 

be  as  busy  as  bees,  for  set |  begins  tin  M  out  lay. 

But  we  will  still  read  \ol  M.  I'l  "n  i  .Mid  think 
til  'the  Poslmistn  --  FllKUDIE  T. 

The    three    little    T.'s 

May  write  when  tin  v  [.I,  ,,-c. 
Ami  Carrie  her  picture  may  send: 
And  1  hope,  when  she's  seven. 
The  parly  11  be  given. 
And  believe  me,  dear  children,  your  friend 
Sadie    was   getting  well  when    last    I    heard. 
Young  People's  Cot  was  described  in  No.  INI;. 


BRIGIJSYILLI,  Wiso.ssiv. 

1  am  a  liltle  girl  eleven  years  old.  I  have  a 
brother  eight  years  old  named  Willie.  \\  .  got 
•i  01  M:  PEOPLE  last  Christmas.  I  liked  "  liaising 
the  '  I'earl'  "  very  much.  We  have  got  two  cats 
named  Whitey  and  Malty.  Whitey  is  pure  white, 
and  Mally  is  Maltese.  I  feed  the  chickens,  ami 
hunt  the  eggs.  1  am  very  glad  that  Mrs.  Lucy  c. 
Lillie  has  begun  another  story.  ROBEY  E.  II. 


l'.i:,,,'hi  \  v,  NEW  YORK. 

I  am  a  little  Brooklyn  girl.  My  uncle  koops  a 
bookstore,  and  he  wishes  every  little  girl  and 
boy  in  the  city  would  read  Yot'Ni;  PKOPLK.  My 
brother  and  I  dearly  love  the  paper  to  come. 
We  have  a  little  kitten,  and  her  name  is  Minnie, 
and  she  is  full  of  play.  We  have  little  chickens 
too  :  they  jump  up  in  grandma's  grape-vine,  and 
have  eaten  all  tlie  grapes.  I  am  nine  years  old, 
and  my  brother  is  six.  LorisE  M. 


FoKEstviLLE,  LOUISIANA, 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  years  of  age.    I  have  a 

S>et  hen  and  two  cats;  their  names  are  Tom, 
,ulu.  and  (iray.  I  have  a  little  sister,  and  she 
has  a  cat  named  Tortoise — because  it  looks  like 
the  shell  of  a  t  ortoise— and  two  chickens.  I  have 
t  hree  brothers  and  two  sisters.  My  youngest  sis- 
ter and  myself  feed  the  poultry;  mamma  some- 
times helps  us  feed  them,  and  we.  enjoy  having 
her  do  so  very  much.  Saturday  night  is  a  happy 
night  with  me,  because  it  brings  YOIM:  PEOPLE 
lor  me  to  read.  B.  M.  T. 


SAS.BM,  MASHAOH-SH-TS. 

I  am  ten  and  a  half  years  old.  I  have  a  little 
yellow  and  white  kitten  whose  name  is  Daisy : 
she  is  very  playful.  I  have  a  little  baby  brother 
Philip  who  is  five  weeks  old.  I  think  the  Nauti- 
lus is  a  very  pretty  suit  for  a  dolly,  and  I  inclose 
live  cents  for  a  pattern.  I  think  "Raising  the 


•Pearl'"  is  a  splendid  story,  and  I  like  Jimmy 
llrow  rf -  and  Mr  Tin itnpson's  stories  very  much. 
Not  long  ago  I  went  to  Cambridge.  We  went 
to  liar  van!  l  't  .lieges.  As  it  was  vacation,  most  t  it 
the  built  I  ings  were  then  closed  ;  but  we  went  into 
two  of  i  hem.  the  Library  and  Memorial  Hall,  in 
the  Library  there  is  a  piece  of  the  old  Washington 
elm  carved  to  represent  a  book,  with  the  elm  on 
the  trout.  In  Memorial  Hall  there  arc  many  old 
porl  rails,  and  some  \  cry  beautiful  memorial  win- 
dows  There  are  many  tine  buildings,  some  of 
them  having  a  very  pretty  clinging  vine  growing 

Upon   them         Will   sol rile   tell   me   the   Hal 1 

the  vine  :•     I  think  it  is  a  species  of  ivy. 

LOTTIE  C.  P. 

Will  some  little  correspondent   who  lives  in 
Cambridge  sati-ix  l.,,ttie  about  the  vine? 


IUl>["ECK,  CAPE  Itr.ETOi. 

I  have  never  seen  a  letter  i'min  Haddeek.  so  I 
thought  I  would  write  one.  A  kind  gentleman 
has  In  en  sending  me  HAKIT.!:'-  YUM:  I'KOIM  K 
for  over  a  year.  I  like  the  reading  very  much. 
I  am  s..\  en  years  old  I  am  reading  in  the  F. »urth 
Royal  Header  I  never  went  to  sehool  except 
tor  t  hree  months  Last  winter  the  school-lion  si- 
was  burned  down.  My  brother  woke  me  up  to 
see  it  burning,  and  when  I  saw  it  I  almost  cried. 

I  can  not  write  very  wt  II.  so  my  sister  is  writing 
for  me.     I   have  only  one  pi!     a  big  black  dog. 

II  is  name  is  Mud,     I  ride  him  round  toe  fields  like 
a   ponv       Last    summer  I  cut   down  a   little   tree 
ami  t  ietl  it  to  his  tail,  and  ploughed  a  small  piece  ; 
and  then  I  got  a  little  bush  and  lied  it  to  his  tail, 
and  harrowed   it.     I  ha\e  no  little  sister  or  bro- 
ther to  play  with.     Will  you  please  print  this?    1 
waul  to  surprise  ma  and  pa.  GKOHGK  W. 


w  \ -MI-.     

We  are  the  little  girls  who  take  HAIU-KI-.'S 
ITouso  PEOPLI  and  like  ii  very  much.  We  think 
Mrs  l.illie's  stories  are  the  liesl .  especially  "In 
Honor  Hound."  \\  -  have  I"  nies.  and  ha\  -•  "1  s 

of  fun  riiling  them     We  all  go  to  the  same  scl I. 

and  are  in  the  same  classes,  \ltcr  school  we  go 
to  some  little  girl's  IK, use.  and  play  with  our 
dolls.  We  are  writing  this  It  tt-  r  to  \oii.  dear 
Post  mistress,  at  the  noon  recess,  anil  as  it  is  get - 
ting  late,  and  we  are  afraid  the  hell  will  ring,  we 

must  cit.se.  for  it  would  displease  our  teacher  for 

us  to  lie  laic.  KnoiiA   M..  CKMIKJ., 

I  \N\IK  VAN  P.,     LIIJA  C., 
and  MABEL  D. 


BAKADOO. 

I  am  a  little  girl  eleven  and  a  half  years  old.  1 
Ihe  on  a  farm.  an. 1  have  a  great  many  pets  1 
IMVC  two  dog-  IMIC  is  a  water-spaniel,  and  his 
name  is  Bruce.  Me  is  a  \  cry  intelligent  .log.  but 
he  surprised  me  1  he  ot  her  day.  lie  was  chasing 
a  weasel  that  had  climbe<l  a  !  r.  e  ;  he  was  so  ex- 
cited that  he  followed  it  about  ten  feet  into  the 

md  sat  down  on  a  branch  to  bark  at  it.    He 

did   mil    gel    the   v.  ca-i  1       Please   print    tin  I 

want  my  auntie  in  Idaho  to  read  it,  for  sin-  knows 
la  in  .  LI/./.IE  J.  F. 


LA    PoHTE.  IM.IANA. 

I  am  a  boy  twelve  years  old, 1 1  have  no  pels 

exci  ci  two'  rabbits  named  Billy  and  Fanny.  I 
got  them  last  summer  when  they  were  only  two 
weeks  old.  The  tirst  pair  I  had  I  bought  about  a 
will  before  1  bought  these.  The  way  I  came  by 

tl ncs   I  have  now  was  this  :  I  went   to  gel  a 

bo\  to  build  them  a  i p  ii  can  not  do  it  myself. 

being  laniet.  ami  liked  his  rabbits  so  well  that  I 
trailed  mine  off  to  him  for  them,  and  gave  him 
ten  cenis  to  boot,  although  mine  wen-  a  month 
the  oltlcst.  FRED  ST.  V.  A. 

Well,  that,  was  a  fair  exchange,  and  I  hope  both 

boys  w'crc  pleased  with  it. 


NEW  YORK  Cm. 

I  wrote  a  letter  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE  before,  but 
not  linding  it  in  print.  I  thought  I  would  write 
again  I  am  employed  by  a  firm  on  Broadway, 
and  like  my  place  so  well  that  I  thought  it  best 
not  to  go  back  to  school,  but  lam  going  to  even- 
ing school  if  I  can  get  in.  My  father  lives  out  in 
Denver,  Colorado,  and  he  sent  me  a  collection  of 
ores.  PHILIP  C. 

Be  prompt,  punctual,  and  respectful,  and  you 
•will  continue  to  please  your  employers.  Go  to 
evening  school  by  all  means. 

SPUING  VALLEY,  MINNESOTA. 

I  wrote  to  you  ouce  before,  but  my  letter  was 
not  published,  so  I  thought  I  would  write  again. 
We  have  eighteen  little  chicks.  It  is  pretty  cold 
for  chicks,  but  we  keep  them  in  the  hen-house, 
no  I  hope  they  won't  freeze  their  toes.  I  have 
two  dolls.  One  is  a  little  one  ;  her  name  is  Ni- 
nie.  My  other  one  is  a  big  one:  her  name  is  Eva. 
I  like  to  read  the  Post  office  Box  very  much.  I 
think  "  Raising  the  'Pearl'  "  was  the  best  of  all. 

GRACE  T. 

LOTTO. 

Lotto  is  played  with  a  set  of  cards  with  num- 
bers on  them  from  1  to  100.  and  counters  to  cor- 
respond with  them.  A  dealer  is  chosen,  who 
deals  the  cards  to  all  the  players  except  himself. 


The  counters  are  placed  in  a  box  or  something 
like  that.  The  dealer  then  takes  one  out.  and 
calls  out  the  number.  The  player  who  has  the 
number tm  his  card  immediately  places  his  fingers 
on  the  number,  and  calls  out.  "  Here."  Whoever 
calls  out  first  takes  the  counter,  and  places  it  on 
the  number  Then  the  game  continues,  and  who- 
ever has  five  counters  in  a  row  wins  the  game. 

CHAMPION. 

I  am  delighted  with,  but  can  not  make  room 
for,  letters  from  the  children  whose  names  fol- 
low :  Itosil  .J.,  Jennie  M.  A.,  Bettie  F.  ¥.,  Willie 
II..  lihmrlir  K.  P..  lihi  Floretta  (J..  Annie  K..  Harry 
A.  II..  Henrietta  ('.,  Klsie  V.,  Lizzie  1!.,  Pear  II., 
Arthur  K..  Dick  ('..  ami  liomild  M.  Ilo  not  be  dis 
eonraged.  little  ones,  but  write  again  when  you 
have  time. 


!(!-:<  KIPTS  FOR  LITTLE  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

\\  IIITK  POUND -CAKE. — The  whites  of  sixteen 
i  egg  one  pound  of  white  sugar,  three-quarters 
ot  a  pound  id  butter,  and  one  pound  id' Hour. 

AMANDA  P. 

For  the  little  girlie  who  wished  to  make 

CHOCOLATE    CARAMELS.  —  One   cup   of   grated 

eh lale.  tine  cup  of  milk, one  cup  of  molasses. 

one  cup  of  sugar,  and  a  piece  of  butter  about  the 
si/e  of  an  egg:  boil  until  it  drops  hard  ;  pill  it  in 
buttered  pans,  and  mark  it  off  into  square  blocks 
before  it  ( N  MAMMA. 


PUZZLES  FROM  YOUNG  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  1. 

TWO  ENIGMAS. 

1.  My  first  is  in  lion,  but  not  in  bear. 
My  sect  .ml  is  in  rip,  but  not  in  tear. 
My  third  is  in  lord,  hut  not  in  king. 
\l\  loiirib  is  in  cry.  but  not  in  sing. 

M  \   \\  hole  is  t  IK-  name  of  a  bea  nt  if  id  flower 

Which  gardeners  prize  in  the  summer  hour. 

M.  APPLETON. 

2.  I'm  a  singular  creature— pray  tell  me  my 

name  ; 
I   partake  of  your  countrymen's  glory  and 

shame  ; 

I  daily  am  t  >ld,  and  I  daily  am  new  ; 
I  am 'praise. 1.  I  am  blamed,  I  am  false,  I  am 

I  I'lle 

I'm  the  talk  of  the  nation  while  still  in  my 

prime  ; 

Forgotten  when  once  I've  outlasted  my  time. 
MAXIMILIAN  GRANT. 


No.  S. 

GEOGRAPHICAL  ACROSTIC. 

1.  A  city  in  Maine.  2.  A  city  in  New  York.  3. 
A  city  in  Massachusetts.  4.  A  city  in  Alabama, 
a.  A  city  in  Pennsylvania,  ii.  A.  city  in  Maryland. 

7.  \  cit\  in  Kentucky.  8.  A  city  in  Indiana  IV 
A  city  in  Kansas,  The  whole  may  be  found  in 
the  Pacific.  RALPH  S.  PAHKI  i: 


\NS\\  I'.PS  Til  rr/.ZLES  IN  No.:»U. 


No.  1. 


A  1)  A 

I)  \  II  () 

A  II  A 
O 


M 

CUP 

MUSIC 

PIE 

C 


R 

ROE 

K  n  M  A  N 

E  A  R 

N 


P 

LEA 

PERCH 

ACE 

II 


L 

H  I  T 

LIGHT 

THE 

T 


s 

A  T  E 

STONE 

i:  N  D 

E 


C 

TRY 

CROOK 

YOU 

K 


No.  2. 


D  anube. 
A  ustria. 
N  ew  York. 
I   ndus. 

K  rie. 
L  yons. 

W  urtemberg. 
E  vansville. 
B  ohemia. 
S  antiago. 
T  asmania. 
E  uphrates. 
R  ichmond. 


The  answer  to  the  enigma  on  page  752  of  No. 
204  is—  The  Blood. 


_ 

Correct  answers  to  puzzles  hare  been  received 
from  J.  C.  Moore,  May  Barklie,  Nina  and  Willie 


11s.  Dolly  <»rriy,  Emily  Brown,  John  Sii 
t  Blauvelt,  D.'C.  T.,  and  Virginia  John 


[For  Exchanges,  stt  2d  am!  3d  pages  ofcocer.] 


800 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


A  PICTURE  WANTED. 

BY  M.  E. 

P'EASE,  sir,  Mr.  Picture  Man, 
Here's  some  chilluns — one,  two,  three- 
Wants  their  pictures  all  togever, 

Kitty,  Dolly  Rags,  and  me. 
Make  me  dreffle  lady-like ; 

Dolly  she  can  have  a  smile, 
'Cause  she's  little ;  au'  let  Kitty 
Be  a-singiu'  all  the  while. 


T 


PRIZE  STORIES. 

BY  GEORGE  B.  BAETLETT. 

HE  number  of  players  is  limited  only  by  the  size  of  the 
room.  The  host  must  prepare  iu  advance  five  simple  gifts, 
such  as  boxes  of  paper,  books,  inkstands,  paper-weights,  etc., 
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and  then  marked  No.  1  to  No.  5,  inclusive,  by  one  of  the  players 
who  is  ignorant  of  their  contents. 

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be  alluded  to  in  the  narrative,  although  any  one  of  the  three 
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you." 

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dictate. 

When  all  have  worked  steadily  for  three-quarters  of  au  hour, 
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Finally  all  proceed  to  decide  upou  the  merits  of  the  com- 
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ballot  is  thrown  for  the  prizes  which  are  left. 


'HOW    HAVE    YOU   BEEN?" 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


LLUSTRATED 


VOL.  IV.-NO.  208. 


PDBMSHED  BY   HARPER  &   BROTHERS.  NEW  YORK. 


PRICE    FIVE   CENTS. 


Tuesday,  ( ivtober  23,  1883. 


Copyright,  I8B3,  by  HAHF-KB  Jt   BKOTHXKS. 


$1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


'THE    BABY    CROWED    AS    HE    LIFTED    HER    OUT."— SEE  STOUT,  "  BOB'S  BAET,"  PAGE  809. 


802 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME   IV. 


BOB'S  BABY. 

BY  GEORGE  CAKY  E<;<;LESTON. 

FOR  the  first  time  in  his  life  little  Boh  Bland  found 
himself  living  on  an  island,  and  yet  he  always  had 
lived  precisely  where  he  was  still  living.  He  had  been 
horn  there,  and  had  spent  every  day  of  his  ten  years  in 
that  home  on  the  hank  of  the  ( >hio  River.  But  now  the 
river  was  "on  the  rampage."  A  great  flood  had  come, 
and  the  water  was  far  above  the  banks.  The  river— 
which  is  usually  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide— had 
now  spread  out  over  all  the  lowlands,  and  stretched  from 
the  hills  on  one  side  to  those  on  the  other,  a  distance  in 
some  places  of  five  miles  or  more.  All  the  towns  were 
flooded,  and  all  the  farms  under  water.  Where  the 
ground  was  low.  nothing  could  be  seen  of  the  farm-houses 
except  the  tops  of  their  chimneys;  where  it  was  higher, 
only  the  lower  stories  were  filled  with  water,  and  the  peo- 
ple  were  still  living  011  the  second  floors,  at  the  risk  of  be- 
ing swept  away. 

Hub's  home  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  but  the 
ground  at  that  point  was  a  long  narrow  ridge,  above  the 
level  of  the  water;  and  so  the  house  was  still  high  and  dry, 
though  the  water  covered  half  of  the  front  yard.  Back 
of  the  house  the  land  was  lower,  and  while  the  house  was 
out  of  water,  the  fields  back  of  it  were  flooded.  The  ridge 
on  which  the  house  stood  was  now  a  long,  narrow  island, 
with  two  or  three  miles  of  river  in  front  and  a  mile  of 
river  behind  it.  That  is  how  it  came  about  that  little  Bob 
Bland  found  himself  living  011  an  island  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  though  he  had  never  changed  his  home. 

The  river  was  a  grand  sight,  though  a  terrible  one. 
The  great  mass  of  water  swirled  along  at  a  speed  of  five 
miles  an  hour,  carrying  with  it  all  kinds  of  floating  things. 
tireat  trees  uprooted  in  the  woodlands,  hay-stacks  from 
the  farms,  rafts  of  logs  from  the  saw-mills,  millions  of 
fence  rails,  hundreds  of  gates,  barn  doors,  house  root's,  and 
now  and  then  whole  houses,  were  swept  along  ill  a  con- 
fused mass  of  rubbish  on  the  breast  of  the  swollen  stream. 
It  was  a  grand  thing  just  to  watch  the  never-ending 
tide  of  floating  things  as  they  passed  by,  and  little  Bob 
could  not  keep  his  eyes  ort'  the  river.  He  had  passed  the 
whole  morning  on  the  upper  end  of  the  island,  watching 
the  farm  hands  as  they  worked,  with  skiffs,  catching  and 
bringing  ashore  everything  of  value  that  they  saw  float- 
ing jiast.  They  had  brought  ashore  several  flat-boat  oars, 
many. fine  pieces  of  timber,  two  skiff's,  and  other  things 
of  value;  but  it  was  noon  now,  and  the  men  had  gone  to 
dinner. 

Bob  did  not  want  any  dinner.  He  wanted  to  watch 
the  river,  and  so  he  staid  where  he  was.  nearly  half  a 
mile  from  the  house.  He  perched  himself  on  the  top  rajl 
of  a  fence,  so  that  he  might  see  further  out  over  the  stream, 
and  many  times  he  saw  thiiejs  floating  by  which  he  would 
have  liked  to  bring  ashore. 

There  was  a  steamboat's  yawl,  for  one  thing,  and  it 
tempted  him  greatly,  for  such  a  boat  is  worth  about  a 
hundred  dollars,  and  it  passed  so  near  the  shore  that  Bob 
was  sure  lie  might  have  caught  it  if  he  had  dared  go  out 
alone  in  a  skiff.  But  that  was  against  his  orders  and  his 
promise.  He  was  only  a  little  ten-year-old  boy.  and  al- 
•  though  he  knew  how  to  row  a  little,  it  woidd  never  do  for 
him  to  go  out  alone  upon  such  a  Hood,  amid  all  that  mass 
of  drift.  Even  the  men  had  to  he  \  er\  cautious  when 
they  went  out.  or  their  skiffs  would  have  been  crushed 
like  :'()  many  egg-shells  between  the  heavy  trees  aud  saw- 
logs.  So  Bob  had  been  strictly  ordered  to  stay  on  shore, 
and  had  promised  to  do  so.  He  watched  the  yawl  as  it 
floated  pasl  him.  wishing  and  wishing  that  he  might  get 
it;  but  wishing  did  not  bring  it  ashore,  and  so  it  was 
swept  alonu'.  ami  passed  out  of  si^hl. 

When  Bob  could  see  ii  no  longer  he  turned  to  look  up 
the  river  again.  Presently  he  saw  something  comma' 


which  puzzled  him.  It  looked  at  first  like  a  dark  block 
of  wood  with  spots  of  red  and  white  on  top.  He  stood 
up  on  top  of  the  fence  to  get  a  better  look  as  the  thing 
came  nearer.  It  now  began  to  look  like  an  open  box 
about  eighteen  inches  wide  and  three  feet  long,  with  some 
red  and  white  spotted  thing  lying  inside.  It  came  nearer 
and  nearer,  while  Bob  strained  his  eyes  to  make  it  out. 

A-  I  he  thing  came  just  in  front  of  the  place  where  he 
stood  lie  spoke. 

"  I  declare.''  he  said,  "  I  do  believe —  No  it  can't  be — 
but  it  looks  like — 

Just  then,  if  you  had  been  watching  him,  you  would 
have  thought  that  Master  Bob  Bland  had  gone  cra/.y. 
He  leaped  to  the  ground  as  suddenly  as  if  he  had  been 
shot.  His  cap  fell  off.  but  he  did  not  stop  to  pick  it  up. 
He  ran  to  the  nearest  skill',  ca.-l  it  loose,  jumped  in,  and 
in  another  moment  was  out  in  the  stream  rowing  "like 
mad"  through  the  drift. 

Never  in  his  life  before  had  Bob  Bland  disobeyed  his 
mother  or  broken  a  promise,  but  now  he  was  doing  both 
at  the  risk  of  his  life,  for  he  had  seen  something  in  that 
box  which  made  him  forget  all  about  orders  and  promises 
and  danger  to  himself. 

Tlie  box  u-as  a  cradle,  ami  Bob  had  seen  tliat  there 
mix  a  lire  babi/  in  it .' 

Quick  as  he  had  been,  the  rapid- current  had  carried  the 
cradle  past  the  head  of  the  island  before  Bob  had  made 
the  tirst  stroke  with  his  oars.  It  was  fifty  yards  ahead  of 
him.  and  Bob  knew  that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  overtake 
it.  It  would  have  been  easy  enough,  of  course,  if  there 
had  been  no  other  drift,  but  in  such  a  mass  of  rubbish 
the  cradle  was  a  mere  speck,  easily  lost  sight  of.  Besides. 
Bob  had  to  sit  with  his  back  toward  it  in  rowing,  and  so 
he  had  to  stop  every  few  minutes  to  stand  up  and  look 
for  the  cradle.  He  had  to  row  slowly,  too,  and  make  his 
way  carefully  in  a  /ig/.ag  course,  to  avoid  the  heavy  tim- 
bers; but  little  by  little  he  gained  on  the  cradle. 

At  last  he  came  within  a  few  yards  of  it,  and  saw  the 
pretty  little  sunny-haired  baby  lying  there  wide  awake. 
and  looking  at  him  with  its  big  bine  eyes.  But  there  was 
a  great  uprooted  tree  floating  between  the  skill'  and  the 
cradle.  Bob  sa  \v  that  lie  must  row  around  this  tree  before 
he  could  get  to  the  baby.  He  would  not  have  minded 
this  much  if  the  tree  had  been  floating  quietly,  but  it  was 
not.  The  swirling  currents  were  turning-  it  over  and 
twisting  it  about,  so  that  its  long'  branches  were  threshing 
the  water  in  a  very  wild  fashion,  and,  as  Bob  could  see, 
some  of  them  struck  very  near  the  cradle.  AVhat  if  one 
should  strike  it  !  Rob  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  losing 
the  baby  in  that  way  after  coming  so  near  it,  for  it  had  a 
strong  hold  upon  his  heart.. now  that  he  had  seen  it  close 
at  hand.  Bob's  own  little  baby  sister,  with  golden  hair 
and  large  blue  eyes,  had  been  very  dear  to  him  until  (iod 
had  taken  her  away.  That  was  only  a  few  months  before 
this  time,  and  the  boy's  heart  was  still  aching  for  the  little 
loved  one  whom  he  had  lost.  He  longed  for  her  ev(  ry 
day,  and  was  verj  lonely  without  her.  Sometimes  he 
dreamed  that  she  had  come  back  again,  and  when  he  woke 
to  find  that  it  was  only  a  dream  he  found  it  very  hard  to 
keep  back  his  tears,  though  he  was  as  sturdy  and  manly 
a  little  fellow  as  anybody  ever  saw. 

Bob  had  a  very  tender  love  for  all  babies  for  the  sake 
of  the  one  baby  whom  he  had  loved  and  lost,  and  that  was 
why  lie  forgot  all  about  his  promise,  and  rowed  out  alone 
upon  the  river  when  he  saw  that  a  baby  was  in  danger 
there.  He  wanted  to  save  it  at  any  risk,  merely  because 
it  was  a  baby,  but  now  that  he  saw  it  near  at  hand,  and 
saw  how  closely  like  his  baby  sister  it  was,  lie  forgot  that 
it  was  a  little  stranger.  To  him  those  big  blue  eyes,  those 
round  rosy  cheeks,  and  that  fair  hair  were  the  eyes  and 
cheeks  and  hair  of  his  own  little  lost  baby.  From  that 
moment  Bob  was  wild  with  eagerness  to  get  to  the  cradle 
before  any  harm  should  come  to  it.  To  him  it  was  not  £1 


(H'TnliKi:   23,    I  •••• 


HAIiPEIt'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


803 


strange  baby  at  all.  but  bis  baby  that  was  in  danger,  and 
Bob  would  have  risked  anything  to  save  it. 

The  drifi  \vns  very  thick  around  the  skill'  now.  but  lit- 
tle by  little  Hob  made  his  way  around  the  tree,  and  at 
[as!  i ''ached  the  cradle.  Tin-  baby  crowed  as  he  lifted  her 
out.  and  Bob  shouted.  "Hurrah!" 

Then  he  looked  eagerly  at  the  little  one's  face,  and  felt 
her  hair,  saying: 

"I  don't  know  how  it  can  be.  but  anyway  this  is  my 
baby,  sure  enough.  They'll  all  say  it  can't  be.  and  1 
suppose  it  can't,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  but  it's  so,  for  all  that. 
Just  look  at  he;-  eyes  and  hair  and  nose!  l>on't  I  know 
my  own  baby  sifter  when  I  see  her  .'  Well,  let  'em  say 
this  is  some  other  baby  if  they  like,  but  1  kno\\  beiicr. 
It's  »///  liaby.  and  I'll  stick  to  it." 

And  Bob  believed  it  was  his  own  baby  come  back  to 
him  aii'ain.  He  couldn't  understand  it.  but.  for  thai  mat- 
ler,  he  couldn't  understand  a  greet  many  other  things  t  hat 
were  true;  so  lie  just  made  up  his  mind  that  this  was  true. 
and  didn't  try  to  understand  it. 

He  took  the  bed  and  quilts  out  of  the  cradle  and  placed 
them  in  the  skiff.  Then  he  laid  the  baby  down  and  took 
the  oars  again. 

As  he  looked  up  lie  saw  that  the  swil'1  cm-renl  had  car- 
ried the  skill'  far  past  the  island  on  which  the  house  stood, 
and  now  the  nearest  shore  was  nearly  two  mile:;  away. 

lie  was  frightened  when  he  saw  this,  of  course.  He 
knew  that  it  would  take  him  a  long  time  to  row  to  Iln' 
shore,  and  that  there  was  great  danger  of  gelling  I  he  skill' 
npsel  or  crushed  on  the  way.  If  that  should  happen,  his 
baby  would  be  drowned,  after  all.  and  I!ob  could  not  deal- 
to  think  of  that.  He  didn't  think  about  himself  at  all.  hul 
hi,  ha  by  III/IN!  he  saved  I 

He  set  out  for  the  shore,  rowing  carefully,  and  keeping 
clear  of  every  dangerous  piece  of  drift.  It  was  very  slow 
work.  Sometimes  he  bad  to  bad;  for  a  good  distance,  in 
order  to  get  around  heavy  timbers  which  blocked  his  u  ay  : 
sometimes  such  timbers  would  surround  him  on  every 
side,  penning  the  skirt'  in.  When  that  happened  lie  had 
to  wait  as  patiently  as  he  could  until  the  timbers  drifted 
a  par!  again,  leaving  an  opening  for  him  to  row  through. 

The  current  \\as  carrying  him  further  and  further 
down  the  river  all  this  time,  and  when  at  las!  he  reached 
the  shore,  l!oh  knew  that  he  was  several  miles  from  home. 
He  was  tired  out,  and  so  lie  tied  the  boat  and  sat  down  to 
think. 

Now  that  the  baby  was  saved.  Bob  had  time  to  remeni- 
l>er  that  his  father  and  mother  must  believe  that  he  was 
lost.  It  was  nearly  night,  and  the  last  that  anybody  had 
seen  of  him  was  at  noon.  Bob  knew  that  he  must  have 
been  missed  when  the  men  came  back  from  dinner,  and  it 
troubled  him  dreadfully  to  think  how  much  his  mother 
and  father  were  suffering  in  their  anxiety  about  him. 
Thinking  of  this.  Bob  saw  that  he  must  hurry  homeward 
as  fast  as  he  could.  His  first  plan  was  to  take  the  baby  in 
bis  arms  and  walk  up  the  shore;  but  he  remembered  that. 
the  house  was  on  an  island  now,  a  long  way  from  the 
shore,  and  that  when  he  should  get  opposite  the  place  he 
would  need  a  boat  in  order  to  reach  it.  It  was  clear  that 
he  must  take  the  skiff  with  him,  and  he  knew  he  could 
row  along  near  shore,  as  the  current  was  not  very  strong 
there,  and  there  was  not  much  drift  inshore. 

He  was  very  tired,  of  course,  and  hungry,  for  he  had 
eaten  nothing  since  breakfast;  but  when  be  thought  of 
his  mother's  anxiety  he  would  not  wait  to  rest. 

It  was  hard  work  rowing,  and  the'  poor  baby  was  fret- 
ting with  hunger,  which  worried  little  Bob  a  great  deal, 
in  his  eagerness  to  get  home  he  thought  the  skiff  moved 
like  a  snail,  and  began  to  fear  that  he  never  would  get 
there  at  all.  But  there  were  a  good  many  eddies  near 
shore,  and  as  the  water  in  an  eddy  runs  up-stream,  these 
helped  him  along. 

Night  came  on,  and  Bob  was  sure  that  it  must  be  mid- 


night at  least  when  he  found  himself  at  the  gate  of  the 
hill  pasture.  This  gate  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  isl- 
and, and  so  at  that  point  he  left  the  shore  and  rowed  to- 
ward the  house. 

lie  saw  lights  at  the  house,  and  thought  that  everybody 
must  be  spending  the  night  looking  for  him.  He  roued 
on.  therefoie,  with  all  his  might,  though  his  legs  and  arm., 
and  back  ached  as  if  they  had  been  beaten  black  and  blue. 
There  was  not  much  drift  and  very  little  current  on  this 
side  of  the  island,  and  Bob  got  on  pretty  rapidly,  though 
it  seemed  to  him  that  be  was  whole  hours  in  making  the 
crossing  from  the  hill  pasture  to  the  home  island. 

At  laM  he  landed,  and  taking  the  baby  in  his  arms,  ran 
lo  the  house.  There  was  a  light  in  the  sitting-room,  and 
to  his  surprise,  when  he  entered,  he  found  his  mother 
quietly  sewing. 

"  Oh.  mamma  !"  he  cried.  "  just  see  !  our  baby  has  come 
back,  just  as  I  dreamed,  you  know,  that  time  I  cried 
when  I  waked  up.  At  least  it  didn't  just  come  back, 
but  I  caught  it  and  brought  it  back,  you  know,  out  there 
where  1  was  sitting  on  the  fence.  I  forgot  about  my 
promise,  and  I'll  take  any  punishment  — 

But  Bob  was  out  of  breath  by  the  time  he  had  got  this 
far  in  his  elfort  to  tell  a  long  story  all  at  once,  and  his 
mother  could  not  make  head  or  tail  of  his  jumble  of  words. 
But  she  sau  the  baby,  and  saw  that  the  poor  little  thing 
was  hungry  and  cold.  Without  waiting  to  hear  Bob's 
slory.  she  took  il  in  her  arms,  and  spent  the  next  half-hour 
in  warming  and  feeding  it  and  soothing'  it  to  sleep. 

She  too  saw  the  strange  likeness  it  bore  to  her  lost  little 
one  as  she  sat  holding  it  in  her  arms,  and  tears  of  gentle 
gladness  trickled  down  her  cheeks.  Her  faith  was  not  so 
child-like  asJBoVs,  and  she  knew  that  this  was  not  her  own 
baby;  but  in  her  heart  she  felt  as  if  her  dead  had  come 
back  to  her,  and  the  feeling  comforted  her  as  nothing-  else 
in  the  world  could  have  done. 

When  Bob  found  that  his  mother  was  too  much  taken 
up  with  the  baby  to  listen  to  him.  and  saw  that  for  some 
reason  she  had  not  been  uneasy  about  his  absence,  he 
wondered  why  she  had  sat  up  sewing  all  night — for  he  was 
sure  it  iimsl  be  nearly  morning  now.  He  looked  at  the 
clock,  and  to  bis  surprise  found  that  it  was  not  yet  ten 
o'clock. 

"  Well,"  said  he  to  himself,  ''I  don't  understand  it,  un- 
less it's  all  a  dream  again.  Oh,  I  hope  it  isn't!  for  then  I 
shall  wake  up  and  find  the  baby  gone  again." 

He  was  very  hungry,  whether  awake  or  dreaming,  and 
so.  while  his  mother  attended  to  the  baby,  lie  went  to  the 
kitchen,  where  the  hired  girl  gave  him  some  supper.  In 
talking  with  her  he  began  to  understand  things  a  little 
better.  It  seemed  that  when  his  father  left  the  dinner 
table  that  day  he  said  "lie  was  going  to  row  over  to  a 
neighbor's  in  a  skiff  to  help  save  some  cattle  and  other 
things  that  were  in  danger  there,  and  in  starting-  from  the 
house  he  said  to  his  wife: 

"If  I  find  Bob  up  at  the  landing-,  I'll  take  him  along. 
We  may  be  away  all  night  if  I  find  much  to  do  over  at 
Donald's,  but  Bob  will  enjoy  the  adventure." 

Not  finding  Bob  at  once,  and  being  in  some  haste,  Mr. 
Bland  went  without  him;  but  Bob's  mother  had  thought 
all  the  time  that  her  boy  was  with  his  father,  and  so  there 
had  been  no  alarm  about  him  at  all. 

"But  where  did  you  get  the  baby,  Bob?''  the  mother 
asked,  when  Bob  went  back  into  the  sitting-room  after 
eating  his  supper. 

Then  he  told  the  story  of  his  adventure,  saying  at  the  end : 

"I'll  take  any  punishment  you  think  right,  mamma, 
but  please  don't  make  me  say  I'm  sorry,  for  I  ain't,  and 
never  shall  be.  I  didn't  mean  to  disobey  you  or  to  break 
my  promise,  but  I  ain't  a  bit  sorry  I  did,  'cause  if  I  hadn't 
our  baby  would  have  died  again." 

The  fond  mother  was  glad  enough  to  forgive  the  dis- 
obedience, saving: 


so-l 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


"You  obeyed  a  higher  command  than  mine,  Bob,  and 
<iid  your  duty  like  a  man.  If  you  had  lost  your  life  in  try- 
ing to  save  the  baby,  I  should  have  been  very  sorry,  but  I 
shouldn't  have  blamed  you,  my  child.  But  what  makes  you 
say  the  baby  would  have  '  died  again'  ?  You  know  this  isn't 
really  our  own  baby,  though  she  looks  so  much  like  her." 

"Now,  mamma,"  said  Bob,  "please  don't  say  that. 
Don't  try  to  explain  it,  for  I  know  that's  our  baby,  and 
no  mistake.  Just  you  look  and  see.  I  thought  it  all  out 
when  I  first  took  her  out  of  the  cradle.  I  don't  'under- 
stand how  it  is,  but  it's  so.  May  be  it's  a  miracle.  Anyhow, 
that's  my  baby,  and  I  never  will  believe  any  other  way." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  everybody  called  the  child 
"'Bob's  Baby."  Bob  always  called  her  so,  and  she,  when 
she  grew  a  little  older  and  began  to  talk,  refused  to  speak 
of  herself  as  "  I"  or  "me,"  but  called  herself  "  Bob's  Baby" 
always. 

Nobody  ever  came  to  claim  her,  and  the  careful  in- 
quiries that  were  made  along  the  river  failed  to  find  any- 
body who  had  lost  a  baby.  But  as  many  whole  families 
had  been  drowned,  it  was  not  hard  to  guess  what  had  be- 
come of  the  little  one's  people.  She  remained  Bob's  baby, 
therefore,  and  is  "Bob's  Baby"  still.  Bob  loves  her  even 
more  than  he  did  "  before  she  died,"  as  he  says,  for  he  is 
still  firm  in  the  belief  that  this  is  his  own  little  sister,  and 
says,  in  answer  to  all  doubts, 

"Maybe  it's  a  miracle,  but,  anyhow,  it's  so." 


IN  A  HOUSE-BOAT. 
21  Journal. 

BY    DINAH    MULOCH    CRAIK, 

AUTHOR  OF  "JOHN  HALIFAX,  GENTLEMAN." 

HAD  long  heard  of  the  house-boat,  and 
had  once  seen  it  (as  you  see  it 
now,  my  readers,  in  a  sketch 
done  by  a  girl  little  older  than 
many  of  you,  but  already  a 
notable  English  artist).  It 
lies,  summer  after  summer, 
moored  in  a  tiny  bay  on  our 
river  Thames,  and  twice  it 
had  been  offered  to  me  for  a 
week's  occupation  by  its  kind- 
ly owner,  but  I  never  was 
able  to  go.  When  at  last  I 
found  I  could  go  I  was  as 
ready  to  "jump  for  joy" — had  that  feat  been  possible  at 
my  age — as  any  of  you  young  people. 

To  live  in  a  house-boat  on  the  broad  river,  with  a  safe 
barricade  of  water  between  you  and  the  outside  world,  to 
fish  out  of  your  parlor  door,  and  if  you  wanted  to  wash  your 
hands,  to  let  down  your  jug  from  your  bedroom  window; 


THE   HOUSE-BOAT. 


THE    LAZY    MOWER. 

moreover,  to  have  unlimited  sunrises  and  sunsets,  to  sleep 
with  the  "lap-lap"  of  a  flowing  stream  in  your  ears,  to 
waken  with  the  songs  of  birds  from  the  trees  of  the  shore 
— what  could  be  more  delightful  ?  Nothing — except  per- 
haps "camping  out"  under  the  stars,  which  might  be  a 
trine  damp  and  uncomfortable. 

No  dampness  here.  More  than  comfort — actual  beauty. 
When  I  went  down  to  look  at  it  in  early  spring,  and  the 
kind  owner  showed  it  with  pride  —  pardonable  pride  —  I 
found  the  house-boat  adorned  with  Walter  Crane's  draw- 
ings aud  William  Morris's  furniture,  perfectly  "  Eestbetic" 
in  its  decorations,  and  as  convenient  as  a  well-appointed 
yacht.  Also  there  was  "a  feeling"  about  it  as  if  the  pos- 
sessor loved  it,  and  loved  to  make  people  happy  m  it. 
There  were  mottoes  from  Shakspeare,  Shelley,  Keats,  Mil- 
ton, in  every  room,  and  pictures  on  every  wall,  besides  the 
perpetual  pictures  outside — a  gallery  of  ever-changing  love- 
liness. 

I  came  home  enthusiastic,  and  immediately  set  about 
choosing  "  a  lot  of  girls,"  as  many  as  the  boat  would  hold, 
to  share  it. 

Only  girls.  Any  elderly  person — except  the  inevitable 
one,  myself — would,  we  agreed,  have  spoiled  all.  I  did 
not  choose  my  girls  for  oulside  things,  though  some  of 
them  were  pretty  enough,  too;  but  for  good  temper,  good 
sense,  and  a  cheerful  spirit,  determined  to  make  the  best  of 
everything,  and  face  the  worst  if  necessary.  These  were 
the  qualities  I  looked  for,  and  found. 

I  shall  not  paint  their  portraits,  except  to  mention  that 
three  out  of  the  six  were  Katherines.  We  had  therefore 
to  distinguish  them  as  Kitty,  Kath,  and  Katie,  the  latter 
being  our  little  maid-of-all-work,  our  coachman's  daugh- 
ter. The  other  three  girls  were:  the  artist — whose  name, 
Margery  May,  is  public  property — and  two  girls,  specially 
mine,  whom  I  shall  designate  as  "Meum  and  Tuum." 
All  were  between  fifteen  and  twenty-five—happy  age!— 
and  all  still  walked  "in  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free." 
So  we  had  not  a  man  among  us,  except  our  sole  male  pro- 
tector, Katie's  father,  and  our  long  faithful  servant.  Him 
I  shall  call  "Adam,"  after  Shakspeare's  Adam  in  As  Yon 
Like  It,  whom  he  resembles  in  everything  but  age. 

Six  girls  afloat !  And  very  much  afloat  they  were,  swim- 
ming like  ducks — no,  let  us  say  swans — on  a  sea  of  sun- 
shiny happiness.  As  we  drove  from  our  last  railway  sta- 
tion, through  the  little  town— the  last  town,  too— our  open 
omnibus,  filled  with  bright-faced  girls,  seemed  quite  to  in- 
terest the  inhabitants.  And  when  we  reached  the  actual 
country,  that  lovely  Thames  Valley,  which  all  English  art- 
ists know,  the  ringing  laughter  at  every  small  joke  star- 
tled the  still  July  afternoon,  and  made  the  birds  dart  flut- 
tering out  of  the  hedge-rows.  Such  hedge-rows !— full  of 
wild  brier-roses,  pink  and  deep  red  honeysuckle,  travel- 
ler's-joy, aud  dozens  of  other  flowers  useless  to  name,  as 
they  may  not  grow  in  America.  But  our  English  girls 


OCTOBER  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


805 


love  them,  our  English  fields  would  be  nothing'  without 
them. 

"There  it  is!  There  is  the  house-boat!"  cried  Kitty, 
who  had  seen  it  before,  having  been  with  me  when  we 
explored  it  domestically. 

"Hurrah  !  we  have  nearly  reached  it — our  'appy  '<>me  !" 
exclaimed  Meiim  and  Tuiim,  standing  up  in  the  carriage 
together.  Two  of  the  Katherines  followed  their  example; 
indeed,  we  should  have  been  considered  a  most  ill-behaved 
party,  only  fortunately  there  was  no  one  to  see  us  except 
one  laborer,  lazily  sitting  on  a  mowing-machine  which 
was  slowly  cutting  down  all  the  pride  of  the  flowery 
meadow  through  which  we  drove  to  the  river-side. 

There  she  lay,  the  Pinafore,  and  beside  her  the  Bib.  a 
little  boat,  which  was  to  be  our  sole  link  with  the  outside 
world.  In  it  sat  the  owner,  who  had  patiently  awaited 
us  there  these  two  hours,  and  whose  portrait  I  should  like 
to  paint  if  only  to  show  you  a  bachelor — an  old  bachelor 
you  young  girls  would  call  him — who  has  neither  grown 
selfish  nor  cynical,  who  knows  how  to  use  his  money 
without  abusing  it,  and  who  does  use  a  good  part  of  it  in 
making  other  people  happy. 

The  Pinafore  is  his  hobby.  He  had  it  built  on  the  top 
of  a  barge,  under  his  own  direction,  and  from  his  own  de- 
sign. It  consists  of  a  saloon  at  one  end,  a  combination 
kitchen  and  dining-room  at  the  other,  and  four  cabins 
In  -I  \\ecii,  with  two  berths  in  each.  A  real  little  house. 
and  well  might  we  call  it 
our  happy  home  —  for  a 
week. 

Our  host  showed  us  all 
over  it  once  more,  pointed 
out  every  possible  arrange- 
ment for  our  comfort,  par- 
took of  a  hasty  cup  of  tea, 
and  then  drove  back  in  our 
empty  omnibus  London- 
ward,  deeply  pitied  by  us 
whom  he  left  behind  in  his 
little  paradise. 

The  first  meal! — its  live- 
liness was  only  equalled  by 
the  quickness  with  which 
it  disappeared.  And  then 
came  several  important 
questions. 

1 '  Business  before  plea- 
sure," said  the  stern  mo- 
ther. ' '  Choose  your  room- 
mates, girls,  and  then  ar- 
range your  rooms.  It  is 
the  fashion  on  board  the 
I  'nit/fore  to  do  everything 
for  yourselves.  When  all 
is  ready  we  will  take  a 
row  and  watch  the  sunset, 
then  come  back  to  bed." 

This  last  would  have  been 
a  pleasant  business  if  some 
of  them  had  had  to  "turn 
in"  to  beds  of  their  own 
making. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Katie, 
who  was  beside  me  when 
I  peeped  into  one  cabin, 
"  hadn't  I  better  do  the 
rooms  ?  the  young  ladies 
do  not  quite  understand 
about  it.  I  will  have  all 
ready  by  the  time  you  come 
back." 

Katie,  the  best  of  little 
house -maids,  was  heartily 


thanked,  and  her  offer  accepted.  ''But,  girls,  remember, 
it  is  to  be  the  first  and  last  time.  After  to-night  you  must 
learn  to  do  your  own  rooms  yourselves." 

So  we  threw  overboard  the  practical  for  the  poetical, 
and.  like  Hiawatha,  went  sailing  "toward  the  sunset"  in 
dreamy,  lazy  delight. 

What  a  sunset  it  was!  Everything  seemed  full  of  rich 
summer  life,  from  the  stately  pair  of  swans  sailing  about 
with  their  six  gray  cygnets  after  them,  to  the  water-hen 
sitting  among  the  reeds,  the  willow-wren  singing  in  among; 
the  bushes,  and  the  water-rat  darting  into  his  hole  as  we 
passed.  All  was  beauty,  all  was  peace,  and 

"Tin1    rarrs    thai    infest   the   day 
Do  fold  tlii'ir  tuiits,  like  the  Arabs, 

And  silrntU    steal   auay." 

[TO    BE    CONTINUED.] 


OUR  NEW  DOG. 

BY  JIMMY  BROWN. 

I'VE  had  another  dog.     That  makes  three  dogs  that  I've 
had,  and  I  haven't  been  allowed  to  keep  any  of  them. 
Grown-up  folks  don't  seem  to  care  how  much  a  boy  wants 
society.      Perhaps  if  they  were  better  acquainted   with 
dogs  they'd  understand  boys  better  than  they  do. 

About  a  month  ago  there  were  lots  of  burglars  in  our 


'HOW    THAT    DOG    DID    PULL!" 


SIM; 


HAEPEK'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


town,  and  father  said  he  believed  he'd  have  to  get  a  dog. 
Mr.  Withers  told  father  he'd  get  a  dog  for  him,  and  the 
next  day  he  brought  the  most  beautiful  Siberian  blood- 
hound you  ever  saw. 

The  tirst  night  we  had  him  we  chained  him  up  in  the 
yard,  and  the  neighbors  threw  things  at  him  all  night. 
Nobody  in  our  house  got  a  wink  of  sleep,  for  the  dog  nev- 
er stopped  barking  except  just  long  enough  to  yell  when 
something  hit  him.  There  was  morna  scuttleful  of  big 
lumps  of  coal  in  the  yard  in  the  morning,  besides  seven 
old  boots,  two  chunks  of  wood,  and  a  bushel  of  broken 
crockery. 

Father  said  that  the  bouse  was  the  proper  place  for  the 
dog  at  night;  so  the  next  night  we  left  him  in  (be  front 
hall.  He  didn't  bark  any  all  night,  but  he  got  tired  of 
staying  in  the  front  hall,  and  wandered  all  over  the  house. 
I  suppose  he  felt  lonesome,  for  he  came  into  my  room,  and 
got  on  to  the  bed,  and  nearly  suffocated  me.  I  woke  up 
dreaming  that  I  was  in  a  melon  patch,  and  had  to  eat  three 
hundred  green  water-melons  or  be  sent  to  jail,  and  it  was  a 
mvat  comfort  when  I  woke  up  and  found  it  was  only  the 
dog.  He  knocked  the  water  pitcher  over  with  his  tail  in 
the  morning,  and  then  thought  he  saw  a  cat  under  my 
bed,  and  made  such  an  awful  noise  that  father  came  up, 
and  told  me  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  disturb  the  whole 
family  so  early  in  the  morning.  After  that  the  dog  was 
locked  up  in  the  kitchen  at  night,  and  father  had  to  come 
down  early  and  let  him  out,  because  the  cook  didn't  dare 
to  go  into  t  lie  kitchen. 

We  let  him  run  loose  in  the  yard  in  the  daytime,  until 
be  had  an  accident  with  Mr.  Martin.  We'd  all  been  out 
to  take  tea  and  spend  the  evening  with  the  Wilkinsons, 
and  when  we  got  home  about  nine  o'clock,  there  was  Mr. 
Martin  standing  on  the  piazza,  with  the  dog  holding  on  to 
his  cork  leg.  Mr.  Martin  had  come  to  the  house  to  make 
a  call  at  about  seven  o'clock,  and  as  soon  as  he  stepped  on 
the  piazza  the  dog  caught  him  by  the  leg  without  saying 
a  word.  Every  once  in  a  while  the  dog  would  let  go  just 
long  enough  to  spit  out  a  few  pieces  of  cork  and  take  a 
fresh  hold,  but  Mr.  Martin  didn't  dare  to  stir  for  fear  he 
would  take  hold  of  the  other  leg,  which  of  course  would 
have  hurt  more  than  the  cork  one.  Mr.  Martin  was  a 
good  deal  tired  and  discouraged,  and  couldn't  be  made  to 
understand  that  the  dog  thought  he  was  a  burglar,  and 
tried  to  do  his  duty,  as  we  should  all  try  to  do. 

The  way  I  came  to  lose  the  dog  was  this:  Aunt  Eliza 
came  to  see  us  last  week,  and  brought  her  little  boy  Har- 
ry with  her.  Harry  is  six  years  old,  and  he  isn't  so  bad 
as  he  might  be.  considering  his  age.  The  second  day  aft- 
er they  came  Harry  and  I  were  ill  Tom  McGinnis's  \  -ml. 
when  Tom  said  he  knew  where  there  was  a  woodchuck 
down  in  the  pasture,  and  Suppose  we  go  and  hunt  him. 
So  I  told  Harry  to  go  borne  and  get  the  dog',  and  bring  , 
him  down  to  the  pasture  where  Tom  said  the  woodchuck 
lived.  I  told  him  to  untie  the  dog — for  we  had  kept  him 
tied  up  since  bis  accident  with  Mr.  Martin — and  to  keep 
ti'jM  hold  of  the  rope,  so  that  the  dog  couldn't  get  away 
from  him.  Harry  said  he'd  tie  the  rope  around  his  waist, 
and  then  the  dog  couldn't  possibly  pull  it  away  from  him, 
and  Tom  and  I  both  said  it  was  a  good  plan. 

Well,  we  waited  for  that  boy  and  the  dog  till  six  o'clock, 
and  they  never  came.  When  I  got  home,  everybody 
wanted  to  know  what  had  become  of  Harry.  He  was 

me  and  the  dog  was  gone,  and  nobody  knew;  where  they 
were,  and  Aunt  Eliza  was  crying,  and  said  she  knew  that 
horrid  dog  had  eaten  her  hoy  up.  Father  and  I  and  Mr. 
Travers  had  to  go  and  hunt  for  Harry.  We  hunted  all 
over  the  town,  and  at  last  a  man  told  us  that  he  had  seen 
.,  boy  and  a  dog  going  on  a  run  across  Deacon  Smith's 
corn  field.  So  we  went  through  the  corn  field  and  found 
their  track,  for  they  had  broken  down  the  corn  just  as  if 
a  wagon  bad  driven  through  it.  When  we  came  to  the 
fence  on  the  other  side  of  the  field  we  found  llarrvonone 


side  of  the  fence  and  the  dog  on  the  other.  Harry  had 
tied  the  dog's  rope  round  his  waist,  and  couldn't  untie  it 
again,  and  the  dog  had  run  away  with  him.  When  they 
came  to  the  fence  the  dog  had  squeezed  through  a  hole 
that  was  too  small  for  Harry,  and  wouldn't  come  hack 
airain.  So  they  were  both  caught,  in  a  trap.  How  that 
dog  did  pull  !  Harry  was  almost  cut  in  two,  for  the  do-.- 
kept  pulling  at  the  rope  all  the  time  with  all  his  might. 

When  we  got  home  Aunt  Eliza  said  that  either  she  or 
that  brute  must  leave,  and  father  gave  the  dog  away  to 
the  butcher.  He  was  the  most  elegant  dog  I  ever  had, 
and  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  have  another. 


"HE'S  WEEPING  FOi;   MM" 
(  1I7/0/  linli  Ilililn  7'r<iijn"ir,  aged  four,  said  to  her  ,iiii//in-.\ 
I;Y  K.  il. 


MOTHER  dear,  open  the  window  high: 
Let  me  lonk  out.  ill   the  bright,  blue  sky: 
Floating  across  il   llic  c  loudlels  white 
Are  hiding  llie  sunbeam*  out  of  sight. 

There   is  the  home  of  God.  yen  say. 
\Vliu  imide  the  niglii   and  the   fair  sweet   day, 
And    looks  ill   us  all   with  a   Father's   love, 
Although  His  house  is  so  high   alpo\e. 

Now  there  comes  rain,  and  I  want  to  know 
\Vliv   drops   from   heaven   should    fall   below. 
You  sav  God  sends  them  down   from   I  lie  skies: 
l!:iin-drops  are  tears,  then,  from  God's  own  eyes. 

Why   is   lie  crying,  sweet  mother  dear'.' 
"1'is  only  the  naughty  need  -lied  a  tear: 
And  God   i-  SO  ueod!     Oh.  then   il    mn-t   lie 
Because    /  was  naughty   He's  weeping  for  me. 


THE    LOST    CITY:* 

OR,    THE     BOY    EXPLORERS     IN     CENTRAL    ASIA, 
I!  Y     II  A  V  ID    K  KK. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHERE     IS     IT  '. 

REGAINING-  his  feet  with  a  howl  of  fury,  the  Persian 
i  drew  bis  long  khuujnr  (dagger).  But  just  then  the  two 
combatants  were  driven  apart  by  a  sudden  movement  of 
the  crowd,  as  it  opened  to  make  way  for  a  dozen  sallow, 
hard-faced,  white -f rocked  Russian  soldiers,  who  came 
tramping  steadily  on.  headed  by  a  tall  ollicer  in  uniform, 
in  whom  Ernest  recognized  Colonel  Hilton  himself. 

"Come  down  out  of  that'.''  shouted  the  Colonel,  as  one 
of  the  bunches  of  grass  Hung  from  the  roof  by  bis  enei 
get  ii'   soil  hit  him  full  in  the  face.       "Come  down,  you 
young  monkey,  and  don't  go  burying  your  own  father 
before  he's  dead  !" 

"  Is  that  you,  father?"  cried  Tom.  "Stand  clear  be- 
low, boys;  I'm  coming'." 

He  leaped  from  the  roof  as  be  spoke,  but  the  Russian 
grenadiers,  with  whom  he  seemed  to  be  a  prime  favorite, 
caught  him  in  their  arms  with  a  loud  cheer,  just  as  Ernest 
elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  join  them.  The 
Persian,  had  vanished;  but  Ernest  afterward  remembered, 
with  good  reason,  that  his  enemy's  last  glance  rested  not 
on  liim,  but  on  Colonel  Hilton,  with  a  glare  of  mingled 
rage,  fear,  and  hatred  worthy  of  a  wounded  tiger. 

The  Colonel's  party  were  not  long  in  making  their 
presence  felt.  While  one  of  the  soldiers  clambered  oil  to 
the  naming  roof,  and  tore  down  the  blazing  grass  with 
his  bare  hands  as  unconcernedly  as  if  he  were  only  toss- 
ing hay,  the  rest  formed  a  chain  to  the  tank  at  the  en- 


'•  Beernn  in  Ni>.  -Jur.  HAKITI;'-  "p.,!  \<.  PEOPLE. 


OlTtiliKi;  23,  1SS3. 


IIAUI'KIl'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


807 


trance  of  the  street,  and  passing  buckets  nimbly  from  hand 
to  hand,  soon  put  an  end  to  the  lire.  In  less  than  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  all  was  over,  and  the  Colonel,  having-  dis- 
missed his  men.  had  leisure  to  hear  Ernest's  story,  over 
which  he  looked  very  grave  indeed. 

"  Yon  couldn't  \vell  have  done  anything  hut  wliat  you 
did.  my  hoy:  hut  I'm  sorry  you  have  quarrelled  with  that 
fellow.  Kara  Georg,  for  he's  the  most  spiteful  rascal  1 
know.  He  owes  me  a  grudge  for  a  lesson  I  gave  him 
some  years  ago.  and  he's  one  that  '11  stick  at  nothing-  to 
i: •••!  square  with  anyhody  that  he's  got  a  spite  against. 
I  nliickily,  he's  very  useful  to  the  Kussian  government 
as  a  spy.  and  is  always  being  scut  on  secret  missions  into 
Afghanistan:  so.  as  he  can't  he  got  rid  of.  you'd  heller 
take  care  and  not  get  ill  his  way  again,  for  he'd  ihink  no 
more  of  cutting  your  throat  than  of  slicing-  a  melon." 

"So  [shall,  most  certainly."  said  Ernest,  rather  startled 
at  this  .specimen  of  the  ways  of  his  new  home. 

"And  now,   hoys,"  resumed   the  Co] I.  "before    I    go 

on  to  the  citadel,  which  was  u  hat  1  uas  donej1  u  hen  1 
met  \ou.  we'd  heller  have  something  to  eat.  The  (ireal 
Ba/.ar's  close  by.  and  tliei*  we  call  get  a  real  Tartar 
lunch." 

A  few  minutes  later,  after  lighting-  their  way  thi° 

:L   jumble   of  dust,   dirt,  camels.   donke\:-,.    prowling    d - 

horrihle  smells,  hlack  hrowed  Bokhariol-.  lonL'-nosed  i'er 
sians,  pudding- faced  Tartars,  liahoon-like  Sails,  and  !':•]. 
yellow-bearded  Ktissiai:  merchanls,  Hiey  found  themselves 
in  :'.  long,  narrow,  dirty  passage,  roofed  with  tattered  mat- 
liiiL1.  and  Hanked  on  either  side  by  queer  lillle  narrow- 
mouthed  stores,  very  much  like  overgrown  ral  traps,  and 
crammed  with  goods  of  every  kind,  from  Russian  tea-urns 
to  Persian  carpets  and  Chinese  slippers. 

Throng-h  this  chaos  the  ( 'olonel  cleft  his  way  without  a 
hall,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  screaming  salutations  of 
the  native  tradesmen,  till  he  reached  a  huge  empty  booth, 
in  one  corner  of  which  a  queer  little  half-clad  Tartar, 
lirowu  and  shrivelled  as  an  over-fried  sausage,  was  sloop 
ing  over  a  round  black  opening  in  the  ground,  verv  much 
like  a  tiny  coal-hole. 

"  Sotnya  pilmenn"  ia  measure  of  dumplings),  cried  the 
Colonel,  stepping  in. 

The  Tartar  replied  by  lishing  up  from  his  "coal-hole" 
(which  was  really  a  native  oven  I  a  copper  pan  filled  with 
tiny  halls  of  greasy  dough,  not  much  bigger  than  a  good- 
si/ed  marble.  These  he  emptied  into  a  wooden  bowl, 
poured  over  them  a  brimming-  ladleful  of  melted  fai.  :-nd 
then,  handing  to  each  of  his  three  customers,  who  had 
squatted  themselves  upon  a  sheet  of  gray  felt  at  the  back 
of  the  booth,  a  sharp-pointed  chip  of  wood  like  a  monster 
tooth-pick,  signed  to  them  to  begin  eating. 

Ernest,  rather  puzzled  how  to  do  so.  watched  his  two 
companions,  and  seeing  that  they  were  spearing-  the  dump- 
lings with  their  chips,  and  swallowing-  them  after  first 
dippingthem  in  the  hot  grease,  he  followed  their  example. 

''Chopped  meat  and  onions,  seemingly,"  remarked  lie, 
after  his  first  mouthful,  "and  not  bad  stuff  either.  I 
wonder  what  meat  it  is  '." 

"Better  not  be  too  curious  about  that,  Ernie,"  said  Tom 
Hil ton,  with  a  grin;  "  it  don't  do  to  ask  what  tilings  are 
made  of  in  this  country.  You  remember  what  the  High- 
land gamekeeper  said  of  his  masters  shooting-:  'The  more 
said,  the  less  the  better/'' 

The  novelty  of  making  a  real  Tartar  meal  out  of  the 
same  dish  with  two  other  people  made  Ernest  eat  pretty 
heartily,  but  he  was  somewhat  startled  to  hear  that  he 
and  his  companions  had  eaten  thirty-six  dumplings  among 
I  hem.  and  still  more  so  to  see  that  the  total  cost  of  the 
entertainment  was  only  thirty  kopecks  (twenty  cents). 

"Living's  cheap  here,  it  seems,"  laughed  he.  "If  I 
ever  lose  all  my  money,  which  isn't  very  likely  while  //UK 
have  the  charge  of  it,  father,  I  shall  come  and  settle  in 
Tashkent." 


"You  might  do  worse."  answered  his  adopted  father; 
"but  I  dare  say  you'll  have  queerer  fare  than  this  when 
you  go  soldiering  in  India,  as  I  suppose  you  will  some 
day,  since  your  own  father  wished  it.  Well,  boys,  I  must 
he  off  now:  but  I'll  be  home  about  live  o'clock,  and  we'll 
have  a  snug  (veiling  all  to  ourselves." 

I  liit  that  evening  was  destined  to  be  more  eventful  than 
he  imagined.  They  were  still  sitting  over  their  after-din- 
n<  i-  eojl'ee  in  the  Colonel's  cozy  little  parlor,  and  Ernest 
was  wondering  to  see,  in  the  heart  of  this  region  of 
mos,|ues.  turbans,  and  camels,  photographic  albums,  cop- 
ies of  the  (jrujiltic  and  the  New  York  Hei-iihl.  prints  from 
the  il/iixtrdted  London  AVvr.s-,  and  engravings  from  the 
pictures  of  Frith  and  Landseer.  when  suddenly  a  shrill, 
chirping-  voice  was  heard  outside  the  door,  at  the  lirst 
sound  of  which  Colonel  Hilton  sprang  up  and  hurried 
out. 

"  Ha,  Pavel  Petrovitch:"  (Paul  son  of  Peter)  "is  this 
nail;,  i/mi  !  Why,  your  last  letter  was  dated  from  Mos- 
cow, and  1  never  thought  of  seeing  you  again  this  year. 
Come  in,  come  in;  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you." 

The  next  moment  the  Colonel  re-entered  with  a  little 
man  in  a  brown  coat,  whom  he  introduced  as  Professor 
Makaroff, 

Krnesl  .started  as  if  he  had  been  shot.  Having  seen 
tin:,  famous  explorer's  name  celebrated  in  every  leading 
English  journal  for  exploits  as  daring  as  those  of  Stanley 
or  ('olonel  Cordon,  be  had  pictured  to  himself  a  grim, 
bearded,  sun  brow  ncd  giant,  with  a  revolver  at  everv  but- 
ton hide.  The  man  he  now  saw  was  a  thin,  pale-faced, 
quiet  I  it  Me  fellow,  with  a  voice  like  the  piping  of  a  canary, 
and  no  sign  of  a  wea| any  where  about  him. 

"I  see  you're  wondering  why  I've  come. "said  the  Pro- 
fessor, \\hen  the  lirst  greetings  were  over.  "The  fact 
is.  our  Imperial  Geographical  Society  has  offered  a  re- 
vs aid  for  the  discovery  of  the  lost  city  of  Margilian,  over 
the  existence  of  which  you  and  I  used  to  fight  so  last  year, 
and  I'm  now  hoping  to  settle  our  dispute  once  for  all  by 
linding  the  place  myself." 

"lla\e  you  any  fresh  information  on  the  subject, 
then  '."  asked  the  Colonel,  beginning  to  feel  interested. 

"I  have  indeed.  A  few  weeks  ago  Hadji  Murad  (that 
Hokhariot  trader,  you  remember,  with  whom  I  travelled 
along  the  border  of  Thibet  in  'T."n  sent  me  word  that  one 
of  his  Tartars  had  just  come  in  from  the  Tien  Shan,*  tell- 
ing a  very  strange  story.  He  had  got  lost  among  the 
mountains,  and  wandered  about  for  two  days,  until  his 
food  was  .spent,  and  his  strength  almost  gone,  when  all  at 
once  he  espied  a  passage  among  the  rocks,  cut  as  smooth 
and  even  as  a  railway.  He  followed  it  for  more  than  a 
Vt  rst  itwo  thirds  of  a  mile),  and  suddenly  found  himself 
in  a  vast  open  space,  right  in  front  of  a  great  stone  temple 
with  a  row  of  tall  pillars,  around  which  lay  the  ruins  of 
many  other  buildings.  But  just  then  a  huge  shadows 
figure  rose  from  the  brow  of  the  cliff  overhead,  and  waved 
one  hand  as  if  warning  him  back,  while  with  the  other 
hand  he  pushed  over  a  great  rock  that  almost  crushed  the 
poor  Tartar,  who  fled  in  terror,  and  was  picked  up  half 
fainting  by  a  party  of  Khokaiidese  merchants  at  the  foot 
of  a  precipice.'' 

"And  you  really  believe  all  that  '."  asked  Hilton,  with 
a  sly  smile. 

"I  believe  it  so  much  that  I  telegraphed  Murad  to  offer 
the  mail  a  thousand  rubles"  i^T'iO)  "to  guide  me  to  the 
spot,  but  it  seems  lie's  so  frightened  that  no  mom  y  can 
tempt  him  to  venture  again." 

"Or,  in  other  words,  he  don't  care  to  hunt  for  a  place 
which  never  existed  except  in  his  own  romancing  stories." 

"Gently,  gently,  friend.  With  the  exception  of  the 
shadowy  giant  (who  was  probably  a  dust-cloud  raissd  by 


•    Celestial  Mountains — the  range  between  Western  China  and  Asi- 
atic l!u--ia. 


808 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


a  falling  stone),  his  tale  exactly  fits  my  theory.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  turning-point  of  Alexander  the  Great's 
march  upon  China  was  the  present  site  of  Khodjent,  and 
that  he  left  there  a  colony  of  his  soldiers.  What  is  more 
natural  than  that,  finding  themselves  within  too  easy  range 


of  the  natives  on  that  smooth  plain,  they  should  have  re- 
treated into  the  mountains,  and  built  another  city  there? 
That  they  must  have  done  so  is  proved  by  the  existence  of 
the  modern  town  of  MarghUan,  which  stands  on  the  bor- 
der of  the  very  district  where  I  suppose  the  lost  city  to  be. 
Marghilan  is  obviously  a  corruption 
of  Margiliau,  and  thus  it  follows — 
And  so  on  for  another  half-hour. 
"  I  say,  Ernie,"  whispered   Tom, 
' '  wouldn't  it  be  gay  if  we  could  hunt 
out  the  place  ourselves,  and  get  there 
before  the  Professor  <" 

The  suggestion  haunted  Ernest  that 
night  even  in  his  sleep.  He  dreamed 
that  he  was  a  special  correspondent 
with  the  army  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  taking  notes  with  the  point 
of  an  Egyptian  obelisk,  which  kept 
breaking  off  at  every  other  word. 
Alexander  pointed  to  a  distant  tree, 
and  bade  him  pick  a  better  pencil 
from  those  which  grew  on  it.  But  as 
he  approached,  the  tree  changed  into 
his  Persian  enemy  of  the  morning, 
who  seized  and  hurled  him  into  the 
Oxus  with  such  a  tremendous  splash 
that  he  awoke,  and  found  that  he  had 
fallen  out  of  bed  into  his  cold  bath. 


"'COME    DOWN,   YOU    YorxG    MONKEY!' 


OCTOBER  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


809 


THE    CATAPULT. 


THE  CATAPULT  AND  THE  RIFLE. 

BY  ARTHUR  LINDSLEY. 

"~I\7"HAT  are  these  men  doing.  Uncle  George  ?     They 

VV  seem  as  though  they  were  pulling  at  something 
with  all  their  might." 

"Yes,  that  is  exactly  what  Mr.  Poynter  designed  to 
have  you  understand  from  his  picture.  They  are  pulling 
in  earnest,  trying  to  draw  down  that  great  beam  which  you 
see  above  their  heads.  It  is  held  at  the  other  end  by  a 
very  powerful  spring,  which  makes  it  so  difficult  for  them 
to  draw  it.  Their  object  is  to  bring  it  down  quite  to  the 
ground  and  fasten  it  there  for  a  moment  with  a  bolt  or 
bar,  until  the  ropes  can  be  taken  away.  Then  the  bar 
will  be  pulled  away  suddenly,  and  the  spring  will  throw 
the  beam  up  with  terrible  force,  so  as  to  strike  the  beam  or 
dart  which  you  see  balanced,  and  pointed  out  through  the 
opening  in  the  wall.  It  is  a  catapult." 

"But  what  is  a  catapult.  Uncle  George  ?  What  is  it 
for?  What  good  does  it  do  ?  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  any- 
thing like  it." 

"No;  you  never  saw  anything  like  it,  Frank  ;  neither 
can  I  tell  you  what  a  catapult  is,  for  there  is  no  catapult. 
It  is  many,  many  hundred  years  since  one  has  been  used. 
By-the-way,  can  you  tell  what  that  picture  is  intended  to 
represent,  how  long  ago  it  was  that  those  people  lived, 
and  worked  their  catapult,  and  bent  their  bows  as  you 
see  them  '." 


"No,  sir;  I  see  nothing  by  which  I  can  even  guess.-" 

"  I  will  show  you  one  thing  which  may  guide  us,  and  I 
think  enable  us  to  come  at  the  date  correctly.  Look  at 
the  upright  beam  forming  the  frame  of  the  catapult. 
There  are  letters  cut  in  the  wood.  Can  you  make  them 
out  ?" 

"Yes,  Uncle  George,  very  easily.  D-E-L-E-N-D-A 
E-S-T-C-A-R-T-H-A-G-O.  That  is  curious;  it  makes  no 
sense  that  I  can  see." 

"  Probably,  Frank,  the  man  who  cut  the  inscription  was 
not  much  of  a  scholar.  He  made  his  letters  just  as  his 
space  on  the  beam  gave  him  room,  without  dividing  them 
into  words.  What  he  meant  was,  Delenda  est  Carthago. 
Does  that  help  you  out  of  the  difficulty  ?" 

"Why,  no,  sir;  I  can  not  say  that  it  does.  I  know 
that  those  words  mean,  'Carthage  must  be  destroyed, 'and 
so  I  suppose  it  must  have  something  to  do  with  ancient 
Carthage,  but  I  can  not  tell  anything  more  than  that." 

' '  Then  you  do  not  know  who  originated  that  ex- 
pression ?" 

"No,  sir;  I  have  often  seen  it,  but  I  never  thought  of 
asking  from  what  it  came.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have 
done  so." 

"  I  will  explain  it  to  you  then,  Frank,  and  you  can  re- 
member it  for  all  time  to  come.  That  drawing  shows  a 
party  of  Roman  soldiers  engaged  in  an  attack  on  Carthage 
during  the  third  Punic  war.  and  the  date  is  therefore  be- 
tween the  years  140  and  146  B.C.  The  letters  cut  on  the 


S10 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


post  tell  us  tliis  very  plainly,  for  they  owe  their  origin 
simply  to  Cato,  the  famous  Roman  censor,  senator,  and 
statesman,  and  he  never  used  the  expression  until  the  year 
I  Till  B.C.,  so  far  as  the  records  inform  us.  He  had  before 
that  time  felt  great  fear  and  hatred  of  Carthage  as  a 
rival  power,  but  having  in  that  year  crossed  the  Mediter- 
ranean and  seen  the  city  for  himself,  his  fear  was  so 
much  increased  that  from  that  time  onward  he  used  ev- 
ery  exertion  within  his  power  to  promote  war  between 
the  two  cities,  and  destroy  Carthage.  It  would  seem  that 
his  a  ire  dor  he  was  then  eighty-three  years  oldi  might 
have  given  him  more  moderation  and  less  narrowness 
of  view,  but  it  did  not,  for  it  is  stated  that  every  speech 
which  he  made  in  the  senate  during  the  succeeding  year 
lie  closed  with  the  sentence:  "  Ceterum  censeo  Cartha- 
ginem  esse  delendam"-  "However.  I  vote  that  (.'arthage 
be  destroyed." 

"And  did  he  destroy  it.  Uncle  George  ?" 

"His  influence  was  so  great  that  the  third  Punic  war  was 
undertaken  without  any  sort  of  even  reasonable  pretext 
for  it— as  unjust  a  war  as  was  ever  waged.  It  ended  in 
three  years  with  the  total  destruction  of  Carthage ;  but  the 
iron-hearted  old  man  did  not  live  to  see  it,  for  he  died  in 
the  first  year  of  the  war.  14!)  B.C.  He  is  often  called  Cato 
t  he  \Vise,  but  he  scarcely  seems  to  me  to  merit  any  praise 
for  l  lie  spirit  he  showed  in  this  matter.  The  expression 
which  he  used  so  often  became  one  of  common  quotation 
in  Rome,  and  has  come  down  to  us  in  the  form  delenda  est 
(  'i/rtli<t(f<>,  being'  used  with  reference  to  any  object  which 
i!  was  deemed  necessary  to  destroy  or  put  out  of  the  way.'' 

"I  see  now.  Uncle  George.  Cato  originated  the  ex- 
pression in  150:  the  war  began  in  140  and  ended  in  146. 
and  this  picture  must  represent  a  battle  of  that  date,  as 
you  said.  The  S. P. (,).  If.,  meaning  Si'iiiitiiH  PopnUtsque 
rtuiiiKHHX  (Senate  and  People  of  Rome),  which  is  inscribed 
just  below  the  other  words,  was  put  almost  everywhere  by 
the  Romans.  And  I  can  see  that  these  men  look  like  Ro- 
man soldiers." 

"Yes,  all  that  is  true,  Frank.  At  the  time  of  the  last 
Punic  war  catapults  had  been  in  use  about,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years,  without  much  change,  doubtless,  in  their 
construction.  They  were  planned  and  built  first  during 
the  siege  of  Syracuse,  in  the  reign  of  the  tyrant  King  Dio- 
nysius  the  elder.  There  was  nothing  absolutely  new  in 
the  principle  of  their  construction  ;  it  was  only  their  great 
sine  that  gave  them  peculiar  character.  They  were,  in  fact, 
similar  to  huge  cross-bows.  Men  were  in  the  habit  of 
using-  bows  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  arrows  to  kill  their 
enemies  or  the  beasts  of  prey  which  they  hunted.  In  the 
same  way  the  Romans  employed  their  catapults  to  throw 
urea!  stones  for  the  purpose  of  battering  walls  and  build- 
ings. The  name  iidl/infn  was  frequently  given  to  them. 
Josephus  says  that  at  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  large  num- 
bers of  them  were  in  use.  and  did  great  execution." 

"How  large  were  they,  Uncle  George?  What  could 
i  he\  really  do  '." 

"They  were  made  of  such  size  as  to  throw  in  some  in- 
stances a  beam  of  wood,  armed  with  iron,  six  feet  long, 
and  weigh, .ig  sixty  pounds,  to  a  distance  of  four  hundred 
yards  — that  is,  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile— and.  of  course, 
a  mass  of  rock  in  proportion.  But  now  when  you  ask  me 
what  they  could  do,  I  can  best  illustrate  it  to  you  by  show- 
ing you  what  modern  weapons  can  do  in  comparison.  This 
catapult  in  the  picture.  1  have  no  doubt,  is  correctly  drawn, 
and  it  appears  to  be  one  of  great  size  and  strength.  It  is 
evidently  quite  near  to  the  wall,  or  whatever  it  may  be 
designed  to  attack.  It  consists,  in  the  first  place,  of  a  huge 
building. 

"Look  at  those  immense  timbers,  which  an;  necessary 
to  ail'ord  sutlicient  strength  for  the  engine  and  its  terrible 
blows,  and  at  the  same  time  to  give  shelter  to  the  men 
who  worked  it,  as  well  as  to  the  others  whom  you  see 
using  their  bows,  and  endeavoring  to  kill  the  enemv  above 


them  by  shooting  through  loop-holes  provided  for  that 
purpose.  And,  hy-the-way,  it  is  through  one  of  these 
loop-holes  that  the  arrow  has  entered  which  you  see:  men 
were  often  killed  in  that  way.  Yon  can  readily  sec;  how- 
clumsy  all  this  was,  what  a  great  amount  of  labor  and  of 
we:ght  it  involved,  how  many  men  were  needed  to  move 
it  and  to  do  the  work. 

"And  when  it  is  all  accomplished,  with  so  much  diffi- 
culty and  so  much  delay,  what  will  be  the  result  .'  It,  will 
I  brow  that  one  huge  dart,  and  that  dart  may  kill  one  of 
the  enemy  if  it  should  chance  to  hit  him,  of  which  there 
is  very  great  doubt,  because.it  goes  almost  entirely  at  ran- 
dom. That  little  slender  arrow  that  comes  whizzing  ill 
there  through  the  loop-hole  will  kill  the  man  whom  it 
strikes  as  surely  as  the  heavy  dart  of  the  catapult.  It  is 
true,  the  great  dart,  if  it  should  plunge  into  a  crowd  of 
men,  might  by  its  weight  do  more,  and  destroy  several,  but 
thatwould  seldom  occur.'1 

"And  I  should  think  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  get 
it  ready  to  throw  one  of  its  darts." 

"Yes.  a  long  time.  In  fact,  but  few  could  be  thrown 
in  the  course  of  a  day.  A  rifle-ball  does  all  that  the  cat  a 
pult  dart  could  do  in  single  cases:  it  kills  its  man  with 
terrible  certainty.  Now  let  us  think  what  one  of  our 
modern  cannon  can  do  with  shot  or  shell,  both  in  distance 
and  in  weight.'' 

"Yes,  Uncle.  George,  I  have  just  been  reading  an  ac- 
count of  General  Gillmore's  Swamp  Angel  in  his  attack  on 
Charleston.  It  threw  its  shells  four  miles,  and  they  de- 
stroyed houses  when  they  burst  at  that  distance." 

"  That  is  a  fair  illustration,  Frank.  The  smallest  field- 
piece  overused  now  throws  a  shot  having  more  power  than 
the  missile  from  a  Roman  btt/l/xtfi  :  but,  when  one  of  the 
most  improved  of  our  present  styles  of  cannon  drives  its- 
shot  weighing  a  ton  through  an  iron  plate  sixteen  inches 
in  thickness,  with  such  force  as  to  break  and  shatter  the 
heavy  beams  used  to  support  it,  its  power  becomes  almost 
too  terrible  to  think  of.  And  all  this  fearful  power  is  held 
in  the  elastic  vapor  contained  in  a  small  quantity  of  black 
gunpowder.  It  is  very  true,  Frank,  that  in  respect  to  war 
we  have  learned  much  more  than  the  Romans  knew." 


PICKEREL-FISHING. 

FISHING  for  pickerel  is  a  pleasant  amusement,  and 
hoys  are  usually  fond  of  it.  one  reason  being  that  it 
does  not  demand  as  much  skill  or  as  delicate  tackle  as 
trout.  The  articles  necessary  for  the  sport  are  compara- 
tively inexpensive,  and  some  of  them  may  be  easily  made. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  a  special  rod  should  be  used  for 
pickerel-fishing,  as  a  good  stilt'  bottom  rod  with  upright 
rings  will  answer  every  purpose.  Of  course  it  should 
be  twelve  feet  in  length  at  least,  of  not  less  than  four 
joints,  be  fitted  with  "  counters''  to  prevent  the  joints 
sticking  fast  in  case  they  get  damp,  and  have  a  short. 
stout  top  joint  fitted  with  a  pretty  large  ring  at  the  end 
for  live-bait  fishing. 

Long  rods  are  best  made  of  East  India  cane,  as  they  are 
light,  strong,  and  pretty  supple.  A  good,  cheap  rod  is  one 
of  stout,  straight-grained,  well-seasoned  ash,  with  a  strong 
lance-wood  top.  Hickory  and  greenheart  combined  make 
a  splendid  pickerel  rod.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say 
that,  they  should  always  be  provided  with  winch  fittings. 
A  spear  is  often  handy. 

Don't  throw  your  money  away  on  "fancy"  lines,  but 
obtain  from  a  score  to  sixty  yards  of  medium  brou  n 
hemp  water  cord,  and  rub  it  well  with  white  wax.  Pla't- 
ed  line  is,  of  course,  preferable  to  twisted. 

The  trace  for  spinning  should  be  of  medium  strong 
gimp,  from  two  to  three  feet  in  length,  and  fitted  with 
three  or  four  swivels,  one  of  the  buckle  pattern  at  the  end, 
so  that  the  loop  of  the  spinning  tackle  may  be  easily-  at- 


IN   I'll  HER   US.  ISSS. 


HARPER'S  YOl'XG  PEOI'I.K. 


tached.  A  trace  of  hardly  more  than  one  foot  in  length, 
with  Iwo  or  three  swivels,  .me  buckle,  anil  a  barrel  lead 
very  near  to  the  loon,  will  answer  very  well  for  live-bait- 
ing. It  is  well  to  have  a  detachable  lead  for  spinning 
traces.  One  is  easily  made  by  running  a  piece  of  soft, 
wire  through  an  ordinary  penny  barrel  lead,  and  twisting 
it  it  he  wire)  into  the  form  of  a  little  spiral  at  each  end. 
through  which  you  can  slip  your  line  or  trace. 

Artificial  bails  are  often  very  useful,  but  then-  are  so 
many  varieties  of  them,  and  they  are  so  different,  that  it 
would  be  almost  impossible  for  a  young  fisherman  to  se- 
lect the  besl.  Dou'l  be  persuaded  into  purchasing  a  hi'j1. 
frightful,  glaring  contrivance— or  a  little  one  either 
with  hooks  ten  times  too  large,  but  gel  an  old-fashioned 
spoon  bait,  copper  on  the  convex  side  and  silver  on  the 
concave,  price  about  forty  cents.  Take  oft'  the  lop  tri- 
angle, leaving  onlv  tin-  one  at  the  bottom  of  the  s| n. 

The  spoon  spins  much  better  without  the  top  hook,  and  a 
fish  is  hooked  (mite  as  well  as  with  it.  See  thai  your  bail 
spins  well,  and  that  it  is  kept  clear  of  all  obstructions  in 
the  shape  of  weeds,  grass,  and  leaves. 

lie  guided  by  your  own  judgment  with  regard  to  what 

di   in you  should  fish  from  the  bank.      Keep  your  bait, 

in    mid-water  if  possible,  spin  it  in   front    of  and   between 
weed  beds,  and  avoid  shallows  where  you  can  see  the   bot 
torn    very   plainly.       A    fairly  cloudy  day.    with   a    rolling 

bree/.e    ruffling  the   surfac f   the    uater   into  miniature 

wave-lets,  is  the  best  for  piekerel-lishiii":.      From  the  mid 
die  of  May  lo   December,  and    from  December  to  tin-  mid- 
dle of  February,  pickerel  are   usually  in  season. 

Live-baiting,  or  sinking  and  roving,  is  a  very  good 
method  of  capturing  pickerel, -and  can  not  be  beaten  for 
ponds,  lakes,  and  broad  expanses  of  uater.  TV 
three  floats  should  be  used ---one  of  cork',  about  the  si/.e 
of  a  hen's  egg.  painted  white  and  green,  and  one  or  two 
much  smaller  ones,  fixed  about  two  feet  above-  the  princi- 
pal float.  If  two  small  ones  are  used,  they  should  be 
twenty-four  inches  apart.  Tin-  best  hook  is  a.  combina- 
tion of  three  hooks,  two  large  ones  and  a  small  one  fast 
eni-d  about  half-way  up  the  shanks  of  the  other  two.  but 
'pointing  in  a  contrary  direction,  like  the  lower  part  of  t In- 
capital  letter  Y.  which  altogether  shows  the  direction  in 
which  each  hook  points. 

In  pulling  the  tackle  together  the,  following  directions 
may  be  serviceable:  After  having  lixed  your  rod  together 
and  drawn  a.  portion  of  the  reel  line  through  the  rings,  fix 
your  floats  upon  tin-  ends  of  the  latter,  t  lie  uppermost  one 
last:  then  attach  your  trace  to  the  loop  at  the  end  of  tin- 
line,  afterward  your  hook  to  the  buckle,  swivel,  and 
next  your  bait  to  the  small  hook.  Of  course,  before  do- 
ing this,  you  should  select  a  good  stretch  of  water  oppo- 
site some  weed  or  rush  bed.  or  trees  overhanging  or  grow- 
ing out  of  the  water. 

Having  got  ready  and  adjusted  your  floats  to  the  depl  h 
of  the  water — your  bait  should  be  kept  in  mid-water  if 
less  than  eight  feet  in  depth,  but  not  more  than  four  feet 
below  the  surface  011  any  account — cast  your  bait — n<  >t  far. 
if  possible,  from  the  weeds  or  other  growth,  but  mind  you 
don't  cast  too  near,  or  you  may  get  fast  in  something 
stronger  than  a  pickerel. 

If  you  don't  get  a  run  in  half  an  hour,  examine  your 
bait  to  see  whether  it  is  all  right.  If  your  floats  drift 
near  to  the  bank,  draw  in  your  line,  and  make  a  fresh 
cast.  As  soon  as  you  get  a  run — which  is  usually  noli 
lied  by  the  big  float  beginning  to  bob  up,  down,  and  about 
very  violently,  and  finally  disappearing— do  not  strike, 
but  allow  the  picker -1  time  to  get  the  bait  well  down  its 
throat — say  about  thirty  seconds — and  then,  if  necessary, 
strike  him  gently,  for  it  may  have  hooked  itself,  and  a 
good  jerk  might  tear  the  hook  out. .  When  the  fish  is  fast. 
draw  him  in  carefully.  A  gudgeon  or  a  small  sucker  are 
tin-  best  baits.  Hook  your  live  bait  just  in  front  of  the 
first  fin  on  the  top  of  the  back. 


DICK     AND     D." 


BY    LUCY    C.    L  ILL  IE. 


-A  vi  rli  or    ol 


<  HAPTKlt  XVII. 
THE    CONCLUSION. 

drifted  on.  bringing  Dick  Devine  lo  a  day  when 
JL  he  was  pronounced  well  enough  to  be  dressed,  and 
allowed  to  sit  up  in  the  big  armchair  and  receive  visitors. 

Maud  bad  arranged  to  have  Dick  Deariugand  Xorryand 
Xancy  Barlow  all  come  together,  thinking  a  general  fall; 
less  likely  lo  excite  him,  and  pr.nctually  at  eleven  o'clock 
a  tap  sounded  on  his  door,  and  there  Ihey  were! 

But  could  this  very  clean,  well-dressed  boy  In-  Xorry  : 
Dick  felt  Ins  heart  thump  with  delight  and  gratitude  and 
joyfulness,  and  when  Xorry  clasped  him  round  the  neck, 
and  Master  Dick  said,  "How  do.  old  fellow  '."  and  Xancy 
said,  "  \\'i'll,  \  never!"  Dick  had  to  let  two  or  three  tears 
of  joy  trickle  down  Ins  cheeks. 

Then  Miss  Maud  placed  chairs  for  the  visitors,  and  look 
Nancy's  I  onnel  and  shawl,  and  Xorry's  new  cap,  which 
had  a  gilt  band  to  it  thai  he  liked  to  fi'd.  and  a  happier 
party  you  could  not  have  wished  to  see. 

llefore  long  Dearing  asked  Maud  if  lie  might  not  fell 
Dick  all  thai  had  happened — the  sequel  to  his  flight  and 
.loci  Potter's  errand.  Permission  being  granted,  Dick  told 
tin1  slor.v  . 

As  soon  as  they  knew  that  Dick  Devine  was  safely  cared 
for  at  Barnabas.  Dr.  Field,  Joel,  and  Miss  Maud  had  taken 
counsel  as  to  what  had  better  be  done. 

Joel  thought  he  knew  the  tavern  where  Gurdle  and  his 
poor  captives  had  remained  that  memorable  night,  and  he 
suggested  taking  a  constable  and  going  there  himself.  This 
was  agreed  to.  and  then  Dr.  Field  telegraphed  to  New 
York  to  have  Brooks  watched. 

Joel's  visit  to  the  tavern  did  not  prove  very  successful, 
for  Gurdle  had  disappeared,  and  the  landlord  either  would 
not  or  could  not  give  any  account  of  him;  but  a  defect- 
ive was  commissioned  to  find  him,  and  then  Dr.  Field  de- 
cided to  carry  out  his  original  plan  of  sending-  the  family 
back  to  town,  and  to  put  Brooks  oft'  his  guard  by  auaii- 
ing  him  as  agreed  upon.  To  further  this  plan,  none  of 
the  servants  were  told  of  Dick  Devine's  escape  and  his 
present  whereabouts,  so  I  hat  Mr.  Brooks,  unconscious  of 
the  trap  set  for  him,  appeared  at  the  Cedars  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  seventeenth,  dignified  and  pompous  as  usual. 

Dr.  Field  had  provided  himself  with  help  in  case  of 
need.  Four  policemen  were  within  call,  and  with  no  ap- 
pearance of  caution  the  Doctor  retired  at  his  usual  hour. 

Now,  as  it  turned  out  later,  Brooks  had  heard  nothing 
of  Dick's  flight  from  Gurdle,  and  so  he  imagined  every- 
thing would  go  on.  as  smoothly  as  possible. 

About  one  o'clock  the  Doctor,  keenly  on  the  watch, 
heard  a  stealthy  step  down  the  hall.      As  Ihe  sound  died 
away  he  opened  the  door  of  his  room,  and  crept  down- 
stairs.     There  ill  the  dining-room  he  saw  Brooks  careful 
ly  removing  the  fastenings  of  one  of  the  windows. 

It  took  but  a  moment  for  the  Doctor  to  give  his  signal, 
and  his  men  rushed  in.  Brooks  was  taken  before  he 
knew  what  had  happened  ;  and  as  burglars'  tools  were  found 
on  his  person,  his  excuses  proved  of  no  avail. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  there  were  no  means  of  escape  he. 
tried  to  obtain  mercy  by  giving  all  the  information  he 
could  about  Gurdle,  and  admitted  thai  their  plan  bad  been 
to  make  use  of  the  Devine  boys  in  getting  into  the  house, 
and,  if  necessary,  let  any  blame  rest  upon  them. 

The  only  good  result  of  Brooks' s  confession  was  that  by 
this  means  Gurdle  was  tracked  and  arrested,  and  Dearing, 


*  Begun  in  No.  199.  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


81! 


HAKPEFJS  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


(sjf&tty;.mM 


•  |  & 


}\K    SEEMED    TO    FEEL    WHAT    HE    MKJHT 


in  concluding  his  story,  told  of  their  being  sentenced  to 
prison,  other  facts  having  come  to  light  about  Brooks, 
which  made  the  Doctor  all  the  readier  to  give  him  up  to 
justice. 

It  may  easily  be  imagined  with  what  interest  Dick's 
story  was  listened  to;  how  they  all  expressed  delight,  and 
how  Norry,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  allowed  his  face  to 
assume  an  expression  of  such  smiling  content  that  it  be- 
came quite  wonderful  to  see. 

Dick  Bearing  did  not  on  that  occasion  mention  the  va- 
rious; plans  he  had  formed  for  "  D.  V  future  good,  and  in- 
deed Dr.  Field,  while  very  anxious  to  see  to  the  future  of  the 
two  boys,  would  not  allow  himself  to  form  any  plan  with- 
out great  care  and  reflection,  and  lie  thought,  it  would  be 
better  to  test  Devine  in  certain  ways  before  allowing  his 
own  Bick  to  have  his  wish,  and  bring  up  Bevine  like  his 
brother. 

But  all  that  week  Devine's  life  seemed  so  beautiful  and 
happy  and  prosperous  that  he  could  hardly  believe  it  was 
really  all  for  him.     To  begin  with,  the  boys  of  the  school 
were  allowed  to  give  him  a  treat,  and  he  sat  out  in  the 
garden  one  sunshiny  morning  and  was  made  a  hero  of,  all 
of  which  homage,  I  must  say  to  his  credit,  was  received 
with  much  simplicity.     The  lad's  heart  was  deep,  his  prin- 
ciples high,  and  his  character  well  worth  leading  to  noble 
uses,  but  he  knew  himself  to  be  ignorant  and  unused  to 
the  ways  of  the  boys  about  him.     He  was  thrilled  with 
happiness  and  gratitude,  but  he  was  very  quiet  over  it  all. 
Packer  seemed  to  have  an  idea  that  he  would  be  able  to 
afford  the  Barnabas  boys  something  very  striking  and 
tragic  in  the  way  of  recitals.      He  looked  upon  him  as  one 
of  the  boys  he  had  read  of  in  cheap  literature  who  did 
improbable,  daring,  thrilling  things;  but  after  a  few  davs, 
seeing  Devine's  entire  freedom  from  a  sense  of  the  heroic, 
he  confided  to  his  special  audience  that  "  he  knew  what 
was  up — Devine  was  going  to  die'1 ;  he  "  was  one  of  your 
saints";  and  for  some  days  he  watched  eagerly,  hoping 


I  Irvine  would  utter  some  "last  sayings"  which  he,  Pack- 
er, could  repeat  as  one  who  knew  him,  and  had  listened. 

But  alas  for  Packer,  and  happily  for  Devine,  his  spirits 
revived  as  strength  came  back,  and  with  the  other  Bick 
he  grew  merry  and  jovial — a  fact  which  I  think  will 
puzzle  Packer  to  his  dying  day.  He  still  has  the  story 
of  Bick  Bevine's  appearance  at  the  window  to  relate,  but 
somehow  a  feeling  of  contempt  had  grown  among  the  Bar- 
nabas boys  for  Packer's  horrors,  and  I  have  heard  that  he 
did  not  long  remain  a  pupil. 

One  very  happy  day  Maud  came  down  in  a  carriage 
and  took  Bick  Bevine  up  to  the  Cedars,  and  there  were 
waiting  Nancy  and  Joel  and  Norry,  and  they  all  dined  to- 
gether in  the  kitchen,  and  afterward  Bevine  was  sent  for 
to  the  Boctor's  study. 

How  kind  his  face  looked !  Bevine,  as  he  went  in  tim- 
idly, felt  a  sense  of  awe  for  the  dear  old  gentleman  sit- 
ting at  his  desk,  but  Miss  Maud  was  there,  and  smiled 
upon  him  when  the  Boctor  said, 

"Bick,  I  want  to  talk  a  little  with  you  about  what  you'd 
like  to  do." 

Bick  sat  down  as  he  was  bidden,  and  his  face  grew  rosy, 
but  very  happy. 

"  I've  been  thinking  it  all  over,"  said  the  Boctor, 
"and  my  idea  is  this:  Suppose  you  come  to  our  house, 
and  I  give  you  two  or  three  hours  a  day  for  schooling, 
and  after  that  you  can  work — do  anything  that  is  need- 
ed. You  shall  have  wages,  and  if  you  show  any  special 


OCTOBER  23,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


si;; 


aptitude  for  a  trade,  \ve  can  see  that  you  have  time  to 
learn  it." 

At  first  Dick  was  about  to  give  expression  to  wild  de- 
light; then  he  said,  in  a  low  tone: 

"But,  sir,  Nprry — 

"I  know,"  the  Doctor  answered,  quickly;  ''I  have 
thought  of  that.  I  know  your  dread  of  institutions,  but 
I  think  I  can  take  you  to  one  you  will  like  for  him  just 
for  a  few  hours  every  day.  Nancy  is  very  willing  and 
glad  to  board  him,  and  at  this  school  they  only  teach  the 
blind.  They  find  out  whether  they  can  be  cured,  and  if 
not,  they  teach  them  to  be  happy  and  useful.  I  think  he 
might  go  there  to-day." 

Need  I  say  how  Dick  Devine  felt  ?  It  was  decided  not 
to  take  Norry  with  them.  Dick  went  with  the  Doctor  in 
liis  own  chaise,  and  I  am  sure  much  of  his  dread  of  giving 
Norry  over  to  the  authorities  faded  when  he  saw  the  school 
of  which  Dr.  Field  had  spoken. 

It  was  just  like  a  home — a  rather  small  comfortable 
house — presided  over  by  a  blind  gentleman  and  bis  bright, 
cheerful  young  wife.  She  explained  that  only  in  certain 
tilings  did  she  need  to  be  "eyes"  for  her  husband.  He 
best  knew  how  to  teach  the  blind,  and  above  all  how  to 
(each  tin-in  music.  So  Norry 's  dearest  delight  might  be 
accomplished  I 

It  seemed  that  evening  as  if  every  one  had  so  much  to 
say  there  was  no  time  for  anything.  And  what  happy 
chatter  it  was!  If  Nancy  said  "Well,  I  never .'"  once,  she 
said  it  fifty  times,  and  Norry  listened  to  all  that  was  said 
of  his  future  with  smiles  that  seemed  to  wrinkle  all  his 
face. 

I  wish  I  could  tell  you  of  all  the  events  of  the  liext  few 

weeks.  Mrs.  Thomasoii  melted  so  far  toward  the  | r 

boys  as  to  say  jii'i-lntjix  something  might  be  done  \\ith 
them,  and  you  may  be  sure  Dick  Dearing  contrived  lo 
crush  any  symptoms  of  ridicule  on  the  part  of  Thomasmi 
and  Packer. 

Dick  Devine,  or  "  D.,"  as  they  continue  to  call  him, 
looks  back  to  that  time  now  with  a  strange  and  wonder 
ing  sense  of  how  much  was  done  to  help  him. 


He  entered  Dr.  Field's  service,  and  there  worked  well, 
studying  and  receiving  a  good  education,  though  he  will 
never  be  a  brilliant  scholar. 

But  there  came  one  summer  when  the  rosy,  bright-eyed 
Dick  Dearing  fell  ill,  and  the  Doctor  sent  him  abroad  with 
little  Barbara  and  Miss  Maud,  and  who  fitter  to  go  with 
them  as  a  nurse  for  Dearing — a  general  factotum — than 
Dick  Devine?  And  while  they  were  on  that  journey  the 
lad  seemed  to  discover  wherein  lay  his  one  talent.  Per- 
haps it  was  all  the  wonders  in  art  which  he  saw  so  sud- 
denly, perhaps  it  was  that  he  had  come  to  think  of  life  in 
wider  ways,  but  one  day  in  a  sculptor's  studio  he  seemed 
to  feel  what  he  might  do. 

Dearing  was  so  anxious  for  his  namesake  "to  have  a 
chance"  that  it  was  easily  arranged  to  send  him  back  to 
Rome.  He  had  no  fears  about  Norry.  Nancy  was  now 
Joel's  wife,  and  the  boy  lived  between  their  home  and  the 
school,  and  though  he  will  never  see,  he  has  been  taught 
to  lead  a  useful  life.  His  music  will  always  be  his  main- 
stay and  dependence,  for  among  the  blind  this  art  is  not 
uncommonly  developed. 

Somebody  told  me  not  long  ago  that,  going  into  a  sculp- 
tor's room  in  Rome,  he  was  struck  by  the  power  and 
earnestness  of  one  pupil,  and  on  asking  his  name  was 
told  it  was  Richard'Devine.  "But  we  always  call  him 
'  D.'  "  ;  and  at  that  moment,  a  tall  young  fellow  sauntered 
into  the  room,  and  going  up  to  this  "  D.,"  watched  his 
work  with  one  hand  affectionately  on  his  shoulder. 

"  You  must  conn-  t<>  the  hotel  as  soon  as  you  can,"  this 
last  comer  remarked,  in  a  low  tone.  "Grandfather  and 
my  cousin  Maud  and  Barbara  are  there,  and  we're  going 
to  talk  about  your  work." 

My  friend  told  me  that  as  the  two  went  out  of  the  stu- 
dio he  remarked  how  curious  their  bond  seemed ;  for  Dick 
Dearing  in  some  way,  to  Devine's  mind,  must  always  seem 
"Master  Dick,"  the  gayly  laughing,  mischievous  boy  he 
first  saw  sitting  on  the  ^kitchen  table,  and  as  for  Devine, 
his  new  name  of  "  D."  was  so  lovingly  given  that  it  seems 
almost  like  a  title  of  his  own. 


goto  bed. ,  said  Sleepy  -Kead, 
awnile,  said    Slow, 
ike  pot,"  cried  Cj-reedy  JocK. 
sup  before  we  go!' 


814 


1 1  A  1 ;  I ' EIl'S  YO UN G  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  JACK  IIOKNKK. 

Here  is  a  pretty  costume  for  ;i  buy  dull.  The 
jacket  and  kilt  might  be  of  olive  green,  and  the 
waist  mat  <>t  bright  scarlet  eloth.  Any  two  col- 
ors that  combine  well  might  be  used.  There 
should  be  a  row  of  very  bright  buttons  down  the 
front  of  the  vest  and  on  the  pockets,  should  there 
not.  link1  mamma? 


OUR  POST-OFFICE   BOX 

I-»r,lFU'>,   I'KS\^VI\   \M». 

Last  niL'ht  wo  sa\v  a  great  glow  in  the  sky,  and 
were  tola  it  was  the  Upper  Lehii_rh  Breaker  on 
(ire.  No.  1  Breaker  was  utterly  destroyedby  lire, 
and  my  uneie  Aleck  saw  it  burn  down.  It  was 
set  on  fire  by  an  engine  on  the  Central  K;iilroail 
of  New  .lersey.  This  is  the  second  time  this  has 
occurred.  They  had  just  stopped  work  at  half 
past  five  beeause  the  breaker  was  full  of  coal. 
They  had  a  force  of  men  termed  the'  Fire  Bri- 
^adr.  ami  Ihev  pas-ed  buckets  of  water  one  to 
anii!  her  A  enal  litvak'T  is  a  huge  building,  and 
very  valuable.  I  wrote  you  this  summer  about 
i -Hi'  of  '  >nr-  being  blown  down  liy  a  tornado. 
'I-:.  II.  <•..  .Jr.v 


II»\,;-K,>M;,  CHINA, 

1  am  a  little  girl  six  years  old.  I  have  a  little 
brother  two  years  old.  We  live  in  Hong-Kong. 
1  am  learning  to  play  on  the  piano,  and  1  ean 
paint  flowers  I'rom  nature  in  water-colors.  I 
have  a  doll,  Daisy,  with  joints.  My  doll  Lily  was 
two  im-hr-  taller  than  my  brother  when  Santa 
i  'lans  brought  her  to  me.  The  last  p'n-ee  1  learn- 
Cll  t<i  play  was  "The  Joyful  Peasant."  1  have 
IIM  pets,  but  we  have  an  Australi;iu  cow  which 
elves  ten  1  ea  of  milk  a  day.  I  want  to  tell 
YorN<;  PKCI-'  ethat  I  had  a  big  party,  and  I  played 
the  piano  for  'nagie  music.  1  <  >imht  to  have  said 
in  the  other  place  that  I  have  two  brothers,  but 
one  i.-,  in  hea\  en,  and  I  never  saw  him.  PATTY. 

This  dear  child  printed  her  letter  in  beautiful 
capital-.  llo\\  much  taller  is  the  little  brother 
than  the  doll  by  this  time,  Patty  ': 


AI>AM-VII  I  i .  Mn  in,.  v. 

I  am  six  and  a  half  years  old.  This  is  the  sec 
ond  year  I  have  taken  Yoi  M.  i'i-opi.i;.  My  papa 
•-:n.  it  to  me  fora  Christmas  present  a  year  ago 
la-t  chri-tiaas.  1  like  it  so  well  I  L'et  very  anx- 
ious for  it  to  eome.  1  have  a  shepherd  dug  that 
is  very  mischievous.  He  will  take  care  of  my 
little  baby  sister  when  she  walks  in  the  yard. 
Sister  is  almost  t  wo  years  old,  and  is  just  as  cun- 
ning as  she  can  be.  She  has  four 'doll-,  she 
wants  me  to  play  with  her.  and  dress  her  dolls, 
and  take  them  to  ride  in  the  doll  cab.  Baby's 
name  is  Florence.  Mamma  is  writing  this  for 
me.  Cood  by.  .M  \KY  D.  H. 


cot  a  nice  set  ring  from  papa,  a  one-dollar  bill 

from  mamma,  and  a  nice  red  scrap  book  from  my 

i   i-'.va.     She  is  the  only  sister  I  have.    She  is 

a  lit"  "irl.  but  she  plays  witii  me.  and  reads  HAK 
n  i:'s  rouNG  I'Kori.K  tome.  I've  only  just  com- 
menced to  take  it.  I  like  it  very  much.  I  have 
one  brother;  he  plays  croquet  with  me.  I  amuse 
myself  with  my  pets.  I  have  a  large  black  dog  ; 
hii  name  is  Dick.  He  is  really  papa's  hunting 
dog  but  1  claim  him.  He  has  been  to  Iowa  with 
papa  hunting  prairierchickens.  I  also  have  a  cat, 
and  her  name  is  Kitsy.  I  had  a  brood  o!  Plj 
mouth  Kock  chickens  this  summer.  They  were 
so  tame  that  they  would  come  and  eat  out  ol 
my  bauds.  Papa  and  mamma  have  gone  fishing 

to-day.  I'OHA    lil.ANCIIE    1>. 

I  am  glad  you  had  so  very  happy  a  birthday. 
I  think  you  have  a  kind  older  sister. 


l;,»  in  -rti:,  Nnv  Y.niK. 

I  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  have  taken 
YOI-M;  PKOVI.E  a  long  time,  and  think  it  is  the 
most  interesting  paper  published.  1  have  had  a 
great  many  pets,  but  I  ha\e  not  Lot  any  now.  I 
live  in  a  beautiful  park  called  Arnold  Park  M  v 
.  11  in  Frankie  reads  my  paper  every  week  :  he 
cnj">-  it  very  much.  1  think  tin-  story  "  Raising 
tin-  'Pearl'"  was  just  splendid.  I  wrote  once 
before,  lint  my  letter  was  not  published.  1  do 
hope  this  one'will  be.  as  1  want  mamma  to  see 
it  in  my  paper.  I  have  been  away  this  summer, 
and  had  a  lovely  time".  I  intend  to  have  some 
kind  of  pet  very  soon.  Will  the  Post  mistress  tell 
me  what  she  thinks  will  be  nice  for  a  little  boy 
ray  age?  School  opens  on  Monday,  and  then  1 
will  have  to  give  my  time  to  my  books. 

WOODWORTH   C. 

Your  mamma  will  ad\i-e  you  very  much  better 
than  I  can  as  to  the  selection  of  a  pet.  Very 
much  depends  npi  in  the  place  when'  yi  m  live.  In  .w 
much  room  you  can  spare  for  the  pet's  accommo- 
dation, and  how  much  time  your  parents  are 
willing  to  let  you  spend  witli  ii.  Most  little  fel- 
lows of  your  age  are  very  happy  indeed  if  they 
have  a  pony  of  their  own.  and  1  presniii"  you 
would  be  the  same. 


I;\N pir,  ^  i 

To-day  is  my  birthday.     I  am  a  little  14-11-1  seven 
years  old.    1  am  so  happy  with  my  presents.    I 


A  VISIT  AT  UNCLE  STEPHEN'S. 
My  name  is  Kobhie  Burns.    Mamma  says  I  was 

named  after  a  great  poet.  I  was  eight  years  old 
the  second  day  of  last  April.  You  see  I  missed 
only  one  day  of  being  an  April-fool.  I  have  no 
brothers 'to  play  with,  and  only  one  sister— Little 
I;IIII-|M-H  \\  e  (-all  her,  because  she  looks  just  like 
a  pretty  (lower.  How  I  do  wish  she  had  been  a 
boy  instead  of  a  girl!  (iirls  are  pretty  to  look 
al.'bul  not  much  account  to  play  games. 

When  1  get  so  restless  t  hat  mamma  don't  know 
what  lo  do  with  me.  she  packs  up  my  clothes. 
and  sends  me  to  my  uncle  Stephen.  1  wonder 
ii  there  is  another  Robbie  in  tin-  whole  world 
who  has  so  ::ood  an  uncle  as  1  have?  When  I 
\\a-  a  very  lit  tie  fellow  my  Sabbath-school  teach- 
er a-krd  me  who  the  tirst  man  was.  Never  stop- 
ping ro  think.  1  sung  out  as  loud  as  I  could.  "  My 
uncle  Stephen."  I  can  jusi  remember  that  I  cried 
because  she  laughed.  But  I  can  laugh  at  it  my- 
self now  that  I  am  such  a  liiir  ho\. 

My  uncle  Stephen  lives  on  a  trait  farm  twelve 
miles  out  of  Cairo. and  lias  mm,-  peaches,  pears. 
and  grapes  than  a  half-do/.en  boys  could  cat  in 
as  many  years,  it  seems  to  me.  Mamma  send- 
all  my  old  clot  In -s  when  1  go  to  the  farm,  and  it 
just  keeps  my  auntie  busy.  I  can  tell  you.  putting 
on  patches.  But  I  can't  help  it.  I  ean  no  more 
help  climbing  trees  than  the  squirrels,  aiidcvery- 
body  knows  t  hese  roimh  country  fences  are  rath- 
er hard  tm  pantaloons. 

Ib  iw  1  wish  all  the  poor  little  children  who  live 
in  the  great  cities  could  have  a  romp  on  the  lawn 
in  front  of  uncle's  house,  it  is  so  green  and  cool  ' 
I  like  to  put  my  ear  down  to  the  ground,  and 
think  l.hear  the  fairies,  but  1  know  it  is  only  the 
grasshopper.  I  am  altogether  too  old  to  be- 
lieve much  in  fairies  :  they  will  do  very  well  for 
girls. 

When  I  get  tired  of  play  it  is  so  nice  to  get  into 
the  hammock,  and  swing  under  the  tall  beech  - 
trees.  It  seems  to  me  if  I  could  only  climb  to 
the  top  of  one  of  them  I  would  not  be  so  very 
far  from  heaven.  A  in-own  thrush  lias  built  her 
nest  in  the  topmost  branches  of  the  very  tallest 
of  these  lives,  and  every  night  I  can  hear  the 
young  birds  sinking  themselves  to  sleep.  Som< 


times,  when  it  i-  very  »  arm.  t  he  birds  are  nam:li 
ty.  and  quarrel,  and  the  old  mother-bird  irives 
them  a  good  scolding.  I  suppose  there  are  so 


ni.niv  in  the  nest  they  crowd  each  other  in  bed, 
and  those  that  have  to  sleep  in  the  middle  don't 
like  it  very  well.  I  know  I  don't,  for  1  tried 
it  once  in  my  own  bed,  and  was  almost  smoth- 
ered. 

The  first  thin-g  I  do  ih  the  morning  is  tofeed 
the  chickens,  and  at  night  I  give  Bessie  a  pail  of 
new  milk.  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  who 
I"  •  is.  siie  is  the  prettiest,  reddest,  fattest 
little  calf  in  the  country,  ami  old  \\  tutelar,  i- 
her  mother.  Bess  seems  to  understand  every 
word  I  say  to  her.  and  she  lias  a  way  of  turning 
her  head  on  om-  side  and  looking  SO  funny  out  of 
her  -oil  brown  eyes  she  i-  full  of  fun,  t'oo.  and 
oft*. u  run-  off  with  the  pail  on  Ir-i-  nose.  1'ivt t y 
Bess. I  would  not  sell  you  for  the  world  I 


There  is  an  old  speckled  hen  that  my  auntie 
pive  me.  She  has  twelve  red  chickens,  and  they 
look  so  much  alike  that  I  have  hard  work  to  tell 
them  apart.  One  has  more  black  on  his  head 
than  the  rest,  so  I  named  him  John,  because  be 
is  so  honest,  and  not  at  all  greedy.  I  have  not 
made  up  my  mind  whether  I  shall  sell  my  chick- 
ens when  they  are  grown  or  nut.  I  think  if  I  do 
I  will  make  quite  a  fortune.  Aumic  says  she  is 
sure  I  can  get  thirty  cents  apiece  for  them  if  thej 
are  ^ood  and  fat.  (inly  think  how  many  marbles 
and  fire-crackers  I  could  buy  with  that  amount 
of  mone>  ! 

On  the  next  farm  live  two  splendid  boys,  and 
we  have  full  together.  We  caught  a  mini-turtle 
one  day.  and  put  him  in  a  tub  of  water,  but  when 
\\  i  \\rnt  to  look  for  him  at  night  Mr,  Mud  turtle 
had  given  us  the  -lip.  and  gone  off  to  the  creek. 
a  half-mile  i.way. 

The  old  turkc>  gobbler  picked  out  my  squir- 
rel's eyes.  lie  was  so  tame  and  cunning  1  called 
hiniPct.  Poor  Pet  died  after  that.  Idoh'tknow 
whether  it  was  beeause  he  suffered  so  much  with 
his  eyes,  or  because  I  gave  him  too  much  candy 
I  felt  just  like  having  a  good  cry,  but  1  didn't,  but 
made  nji  my  mind  that  I  would  give  him  a  beau- 
tit'  nl  funeral  anyway.  The  boys  and  myself  found 
a  irood-sized  cigar-box,  and  auntie  lined  it  for  ns 
with  soft  white  <  ant  on  flannel.  We  gathered  our 
hats  full  of  wild  roses,  and  made  a  lovely  wreath, 
and  twined  it  all  around  the  box.  After  I  made 
an  address  we  all  sung  a  hymn,  and  then  marched 
in  a  proee-ston  to  a  tine  cedar-tree  down  under 
the  hill,  where  we  buried  all  that  was  left  of  my 
little  playfellow. 

If  you  like  what  I  have  written,  some  time  I 
will  tell  you  more,  but  1  ean  not  stop  without 
lir-t  telling  the  boys  who  take  HAIIFEU'S  YOUNG 
PEOPLE  if  they  want  to  have  a  grand  good  time 
they  must  visit  m)'  uncle  Stephen.  KOBBIE  B. 


PHILADELPHIA,  PKNNBVLTAKIA. 

I>I:AU  POSTMISTIIESS, — I  hope  your  young  house- 
keepers will  forgive  me  for  saying  that,  judging 
fro, 11  their  letters.  I  should  say  they  did  nothing 

bat    i k   and  eat.     But   I  remember  the  letter 

which  started  the  idea,  and  one  or  two  letters 
since,  in  which  certain  little  people  said  they 
"hated"  dish-washing  and  some  other  things 
I  want  to  help  these  dish-washers  a  little  by  tell- 
ing them  what  a  wise  teacher  of  mine  told  me. 
she  taught  drawing,  one  day  she  was  washing 
di-h<  -.  and  thinking  about  drawing  and  artists 

- -he  thought.  "  What  i-  all  art?    Ilow  could 

I  M i.i  Ke  .-weeping  or  washing  dishes  an  art  ?  Then 
1  thought  of  those  bcaiitilnl  old  lines  : 

'Who  sweeps  a  room  as  for  C.od's  laws 
Makes  that  arid  the  action  fine.' 

So  I  hciraii  io  see  that  an  (trt  was  simply  the  do- 
ing of  any  work  in  tin-  best  way  in  the  shortest 
possible  time.  I  tried  it  on  sweeping.  I  swept 
can-fully,  thoroughly,  cobwebs  and  corners,  all 
the  while  glancing  at  the-  clock.  Then  I  tried  it 
on  dish-washing;  I  tried  to  wash  and  polish  the 
Mi-lie-  perfect  I),  but  as  fast  as  I  e.  Hi  Id.  and  I  soon 
liked  to  do  it,"  Try  it.  Little  Housekeepers,  and 
see  how  bright  and  pleasant  your  work  will  soon 
luv  It  we  sweep  a  room  as  though  we  were  do- 
ing it  for  (Jod,  we  will  not  neglect  the  corner-, 
nor  shall  we  waste  time.  Yours  heartily. 

JEAN. 

We  are  always  very  glad  when  the  older  young 
ladies  write  to  us,  and  Jean's  advice  i.-  so  good 
and  so  well  expressed  that  1  think  some  bii-y 
mothers  will  thank  her  for  it.  as  well  as  some 
helpful  little  housekeeping  children. 


A  correspondent  kindly  answers  the  inquiry  of 
Grace  H.  D.,  in  No.  304,  as  follows  : 

The  quotation,  "  Little  things  on  little  win;:-." 
is  from  a  poem  of  the  Kev.  F.  W.  Faber,  l).l).  It 
occurs  in  this  connection  : 


IS    e  111  I3L11111    I1OJIL      ^  Cll    LUUUUCU. 

'  small  things  arc  best  :  grief  and  u 
To  rank  and  wealth  are  given  ; 
But  little  things  on  little  wings 
Bear  little  souls  to  heaven." 

CAI.TON,  Mll'lll.. .1^- 

1  am  a  little  boy  nine  years  old.  I  have  taken 
HAHPEU'S  YOIM;  PKOPI.I;  two  years,  and  like  it 
very  much,  and  I  en  j..\  reading  the  letters  so  well 
1  thought  I  \\oiihl  have  my  mamma  write  me 
one.  and  will  you  please  put  it  in  the  pa  pi  i  I 
have  a  little  brother  six  years  old  ;  his  name  i- 
Willanl.  W--  have  got  two  pets,  due  is  a  little 
doc;  he  is  black  and  white.  But  our  other  pet 
we  i  hink  the  most  of ;  she  is  a  poor  blind  hoi  -o. 
anil  her  name  is  Flora.  We  are  very  kind  to  her. 
because  she  ean  not  sec.  food  by.  ELWI.N  P. 


<-|  ,«\  I  1  MM  I     Tu;M,   'I  001  LK   COUSTY,    I'ull. 

I  want  to  write  and  tell  how  much  I  lik<  d  the 
story  "  Thimble's  Last  Hunt."  Mamma  read  il 
lo  lion  and  me  lion  is  my  little  In-other-  and  I 
thought  -in-i-  I  \\a-  i_'oing  to  cry  when  Thimble 
died.  1  think  Ibat  is  the  sweetest  stol-\  I  ha\e 
ever  heard,  and  ha\c  asked  mamma  to  put  the 


'1'A,  1SS3 


HAlil'KIfS   Ynr.XG  PEOPLE. 


815 


paper  \vitli  it  ill  away  for  me.  I  take  good  care 
..f  tlirm  all, hut  tliis  one  I  want  put  right  away  in 
tin- trunk.  Wehaveonlj  tal-cn  HABPBK'S Totraa 

i'Koel  i:  il  few  months,  luit  \v«-  an-  s.i  pleased 
with  it  that  we  are  to  have  it  all  the  time  now- 
so  says  niiinnna. 

I  haven't  any  pets,  only  my  sweet  little  pet  si~- 
ter.  Don't  you  think  that  is  nicer  than  rats, 
chickens,  dogs,  and  rabbits  :•  Well,  mamma  says 
I  must  not  write  too  much,  or  you  will  not  prim 
il.  and  then  1  would  feel  very  hailly.  I.o\.  .1:1.1 

a  kiss  to  V  oil,  g-  >"d  kill<l   1'.  -t  INl-t  I  '    —          l>l  ill  sell.l- 

a  kiss  too.  lie  is  just  six  years  old.  and  I  am 
HI  ,.n.  eight.  x  IBGIE  1!. 

Ves.  ilear.  I  think  a  little  -isler  is  the  very, 
very  sweet'  -i  oi  pets 


t'l  [M..V.   I.,  it  t-l  IN*. 

As  1  liavr  never  sct-n  any  l«'tt<  r-  from  Clinton. 
1   thought    I    \vonl. 1  xvrit.-  'one.     I  would  like  to 

join  the  I.iltle  Housekeepers.  I  send  a  receipt 
for  while  piillllii-eake.  1  am  tWell  • 

ami  1  am  the  oldest  girl  "'  ''"'  family.  I  have 
two  sisters  ami  three  brothers,  on.-  ..(  whom  is 
oliler  than  me.  I  no  to  school  at  Miiiman  lu.-li 
tute.anil  am  in  the  Is,  iphonii  ir,-  i  lass.  I  have 
French.  Latin,  and  musie.  besides  my  other  stud 
iev  i  have  read  Pa  il  and  I  irainia  in  French. 

and  also  Look  of  ra'sar.      I   live  on  a  fann 

live  nnle>  from  Clinton,  and  hoard  at   school.     1 
belong  to  a  society,  a  ml  \v  e  are  &  dm;  I  o  ha  v  e  a 
gold  badge  tor  it.     I  enjoy  il  A  i;l-i  i:'s  "1  <>i  M.  I'l  . . 
ei.K  very  nuleh.  hut   I  like  the  letter,  best.  In 
cause  I  know  they  are  true. 

I  wi.-ii   i.iz/.ic  X.  P.  woulil  eoiiii    and  see   

when  -ii.   pisits  America.    We  live  one  mile  from 

Cotncl  «  reek,  find  ue  have  a  Imat  in  it.  I  fell 
out  of  it  ollee.  and  got  very  wet.  We  live  on  top 

of  a  hill,  and  get  sea  breezes  every  night,  although 

we  are  Kill  miles  fi-om  the  hay.  'The  VOIHIL'  men 
of  Clinton  nave  a  C..lieo  I'.ak  on  the  Illi  ol  Sep 
1  em  her.  and  it  was  quile  a  succes-  I  am  afraid 
my  letter  will  tire  you,  so  I  will  close  I  y  saj  im; 
mv  address  is  AMAMIV  I'irr-. 

Ka~t  Kelieiana  Pari-h 

And  I  would  like  to  hear  from  l.i/./.ie,  if  she 
chooses  t"  write. 


llo\lf  I'..   Ml.  III..  I.. 

We  are  three  brothers,  nine,  eleven,  and  thirteen 

years  old.  and  have  taken    I.H  \..    PEOPJ  i    • 
since  tile   lir-l    iiimiher.  and  think  it   is  splendid 
Pap. I    has  taken    the  "bin    1 1  .\l!l'l-;u'.-."  as  w  -e   eall 
it.  tor  nine  years.      We  ha\e  no   |.el>  exee|it  our 
horses  Kan  and  Nell,  a  lot  of  bantams,  and  a  .a 
nary-bird  :  that  is  George's,  and  he  calls  il  Tohv 
T\lei-       \\elike.llhat  stiiry    very  much. 

'Carl  waut^u  goat  awfully.   Wee\i.eei  our  uncle 
hen-  next  \\.-ek  I.,  t  ike  Harry  to  Kentucky  t..i-  a 

visit.   \\  eall  a  i  lend  sd 1  every  day.  carl  thinks 

he  \\ill  he  a  1-legraph  operator.  We  are  having 
our  third  railroail  built  through  this  plaee.  and 
\ve  \vatehed  il  Iron!  I  he  \  cry  lirst  The  iron  was 
laid  past  here  in  vaeat  ion.  We  had  a  celebration, 
and  gave  the  railroad  men  a  dinner  the  day  they 
got.  here,  and  everybody  had  a  g'  md  t  hue.  When 
they  reaehed  Pulaski  with  the  iron  the  train  diil 

II.  1 1    . -i  line   liaek   ,or  the   Homer  jie.  iple.  as  \\  as  eX 

pi-ded,  so  i  ,i  or^'e  and  Carl  \\  alked  there  -a  dis- 
tance of  nine  miles.  We  were  four  hours  going, 
and  as  soon  as  we  ate  our  dinner  we  got  on  the 
train  and  eame  home,  very  tired,  indeed,  hut  so 
glad  we  had  eelehrated. 

II.YlillY.  C.Kor.i.i:.  and   c  \i:i.   II. 


l'.'i:T-\i'i|  01,  N  i"    II  \\ir-mui  . 

I  am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  have  n. .  p.  i  -. 
tun  my  brother  has  a  dog  and  a  bird  The  dog  is 
named  carlo  :  he  is  very  cunning ;  he  has  a  little 
cart  that  he  drags  all  around.  I  like  "  Diek  and 
1 1.'  \  ery  nuieli.  MABEL  V. 

BRUOKI.YN.  Ni-:\\-  Y"|:K-. 

lama  little  girl  nine  years  old.  1  like  lLvi:m:i:'s 
Vot-M.  PI.OIM.I-  so  iniieh  that  I  can  hardly  wait 
for  it  to  come.  I  would  like  to  join  the  Little 

Housekeepers.     Mamma  says  I  may  try  s I 

the  receipts  this  winter, and  I  will  let  you  know- 
how  I  get  along.  Please,  dear  Postmistress,  print 
this  letter,  as  it  is  t  lie  very  first  one  I  have  writ- 
ten. MARY  D.  M. 

LA  CvGNK,  KANSAS. 

I  thought  I  would  write  yon  a  little  letter.  I 
am  a  little  girl  nine  years  old.  I  go  to  school; 
am  in  the  second  room.  I  have  seventeen  pets — 
a  little  three-year-old  brother  Willie, a  bird  named 
Brownie,  a  dog  named  Shepherd,  a  while  hen.  a  ml 
thirteen  chickens.  MAUDE  8. 

These  three  little  girls  of  nine 
May  call  themselves  pets  of  mine. 


LOITISVILLK.  KEMT-CKI  . 

We  a  re  two  little  cousins.  We  live  on  the  same 
square. and  are  always  together.  We  take  YIMM. 
I'KOIM.E.  and  like  it  very  much.  We  think  "  Nan" 
is  splendid,  and  wish  there  was  a  sequel  to  it 
\\  .  i  -aeh  have  a  little  ci  loking-stove.  and  are  very 
fond  of  cooking  on  it.  We  have  a  very  nice  re- 
ceipt for  making  ginger-snaps;  vye  make  them 
\.  r\  often.  We  would  like  to  join  the  cooking 
Club,  and  will  send  you  some  receipts  if  you 
woul. I  like  to  have  them.  We  study  arithmetic. 


geography,  spelling,  history,  grammar,  elocution, 
and  French;  we  also  take  music  and  drawing 
I. -s,  .us.  We  would  like  to  have  Nancy  K  's  re 
e.ipi  lor  buns  ;  please  tell  her  to  send  it  soon 

KITTY  H.  and  LILY  s. 

We    have    given    several   receipts   for   ginger 
snaps,  but  you  may  send  yours. 


BKRCVVALI:,  COI.U--IIM  i 

I  have  taken  Yorsi.  Pr. .1-1,1,  e\ ,  r  since  ii  \\.-i- 
published,  and  1  like  it  very  much.  I  live  in  sis- 
fciyou  County,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  shasia.  which 

i-i  11.1M  feet  high.  The  head  <>f  the  -  LI  rai 
Kher  rise*  in  our  pasture.  It  is  very  pretty 
there  :  a  great  lot  of  water  comes  rushing  nit  of 
a  hill.  I  go  l"  school,  tuit  we  don't  have  very 
many  scholar-.  My  lather  lakes  all  "f  Ilarper'.- 
pei'iodicals,  and,  of  course,  a  g<  >od  many  n-'wspa- 
per- ;  m\  sifter  lake-,  .•>'/.  .\ if/mlux,  I  liked  '•  \  i  ii  ' 
l>  M!  r  ;li:jn  any  of  the  continued  stories  which 
ha\*  ;.  .  •.  I'lx.i-i.E.  I  like  Jimmy 

Ul'oVMl's  Morii  3  tOO.  I'.  \\-\    *» 

N  »  v  I-.IIIT,  Kii-'i-h    Ni  AM>. 

I  am  a  girl  fourteen  years  old.  jind  as  [  ne\er 
saw  a  Irtli-r  Trtiin  Newpm't.  I  will  tell  y«m  ah<>nr 

a    little     li"l|--e    \\.-    li:i\i-    Imilt     Dear    niir   .i\\n.       Il 

has  two  r"oin<  and  a  hall  in  it-  The  rooms  are 
very  pretty,  ant]  we  my  sister  and  '  are  fur 
ni>liin^  it  very  nii-el\  \\  .•  have  n..  peN.  M»  \\'e 
have  the  h«>u>-e  instead.  I  liave  written  1"  >'"ii 
befori  .  "in  the  letter  wa-  not  putOisiitML  NO  please 
print  thi>  "tie  I  take  \  <n  M.  I'MIITK.  and  like  it 
yer\  in  net  i  M\  Sister  lake-  Si.  Nicholas  Stn-  ha- 
ve, 'i  i  he  creche  Mr-  N.in  _r-I-'r  \\  ]•.  ile  ahont  in  N" 
•Jic.'.  and  she  >aw  the  litlle  eliildivn  sitting  on  the 
steps  arid  -iiiL'ili:.'.  !^he  a  I-'  >  -aw  t  lie  infants  that 
lh'-i;-  mothers  had  left  I'd-  th-'  day  in  erailles 
asleep,  slie  saw  it  in  I'aris.  liut  I  am  a  (raid  I 
!ia\  e  v  rill ,  n  I.M,  li.m:  a  let  1  IT.  SO  i,r<  "  "!  1»>  .  di-ar 
Post  oih.  «•  i:..\.  Fi.oKr.M'K  K'.  IV 

\  tW     OKI  F  AN-,    I- Ml    IM  AS  A. 

I  am  a  little  st  .ut  hem  i^iri,  and  lire  away  down 

here  in  the  sunny  South  I  am  u'lad  t"  see  that 
the  author  of  that  beautiful  >|ory  "Nan"  has 
written  an. 'I  her  one  for  v-mr  charming  paper, 
which,  judirin-  I  nun  as  mueh  o[  it  a-  1  ha\  e  read, 
pn  'in  ises  i  "  l"%  \  ••)•>  ui.-e  indeed. 

T  like  t  he  ilia:- 1  rat  ion-,  in  \  ..nr  paper  \  ery  rnticli, 

evp.eially  "old  '1'hor  ami' his  C'hartrer^. The 

.leu-i^h  "Maiden,"  and  "  A  I  .i!  l  !••  >i-lli-h  "  Lit  I  le 
'•  De.-d\  "  i-  just  like  hundreds  of  little  darkies  in 
New  orlean^ 

M  \  nnele.  Mr.  <  ;ei  iru'e  i  'a  Me.  i-  .  .n  his  way  to 
New  \ork.and  will,  I  suppose.  Ne  then-  ].\  tin' 
time  this  letter  reae)ie>  you.  I  hope  1  hat  he  will 
elianee  tii  see  Voll 

Wehaveanigrhl  blooming  cereus,  a  fine  - :  • 

ofthe  eaelus  tillllily.  I  ha  \  e  n .  •  \  .  r  -.  .  •  1 1  :  i  Tiy  t  hint; 
more  lovely  than  the  (lower  of  this  plant,  whieh 
N  si  »iue thin :r  like  a  water-lily,  and  i-  -m  .\\ -\  wliite. 
[1  is  M].-.pended  li'Min  a  laru'e  \\axy  leal  63  9  J'  d 
MI -m  ahoin  >i\  inehev  1«  >ni:.  and  then  l  urn-  up  s. . 
that  one  may  look  straight  into  the  flower,  which 
opens  to  the  M/e  of  a  larije  saueer.  It  blooms 
only  one  niirht  :  the  oiit>ide  of  t  lie  flower  i-  pink 
It  -eeniv  \-er\  -i  ram.'*'  to  t  hink  that  this  beautiful 
and  rare  flower,  which  every  one  admire.-  and  i- 
SO anxious  to  see,  should  hloinii  iii  wild  profusion 
in  tin-  iinpenetraMe  forests  of  South  Ainerie;i, 
\\  In  !•••  n.  •  o?ie  ea  u  see,  and  then  wither  away. 

You  said  you  liked  to  he  told  what  books  your 
ehildivi:  are  reading.  I  am  reading  I're-eott's 
//i*r< TH  i ;/'  Hi-  i'uiujmxt  <>f  M<  <•><•<>,  and  find  it  very 
int. -r.^t  ing  indeed. 

My  little  brother  and  I  send  Wiggles. 

UEI.I  •   < 

Well  do  I  remember  the  first  time  I  made  the 
aequainianee  of  iTie  book  you  are  reading.  It 
earned  me  into  an  enchanted  realm. 

Did  \oii  ever  read  a  beautiful  poem  by  Mary 
llo\\  it!,  beginning, 
"i.od  might  have  made  the  earth  bring  forth 

Enough   f"i-  gn-at  and  small, 

The  oak-tree  and  the  cedar-tree, 

And  ne'er  a  flower  at  all." 

I  think  flowers  are  lovely  proofs  of  the  Maker' > 
goodness,  and  since  He  plants  them  where  no 
human  eyes  see  their  splendor,  we  may  be  sure 
that  lie  cares  for  them  Himself. 


nnl  sent  with  the  book,  and  Katie  is  therefore 
unable  To  return  a  proper  exchange. — 1'.  Albert 
It.:  I!ai...'i  '  is  a  sinking  name  for  your  In  auti 

fill    colt.       I    suppose    he  steps    out    bra Vely .  —  Tilll- 

ollij-  C.  :  I  think  you  are  the  owner  of  a  liappv 
family,  with  your  cat.  little  dog.  three  quails,  a  in  I 
a  chipmunk.  —  Evelyn  >". :  I  am  glad,  you  like 
"Dick  ami  II."  So  iln  I. 


Pf/./,I.i;>   KJ.'oM   I'OUNG   CONTKIIU  TOKS 

No.  1. 

wonu  SUHGERY. 

I  I  \\  e  arc  robbers  Behead  and  curtail  us, 
and  we  become  mad:  behead  ami  curtail  us  again. 
and  \v  e  are  a  pest  :  behead  ami  curtail  us  again. 
and  we  are  a  vowel.  BLANCIM:  E  Pn  RSON 

-.'  1  I  am  \er\  warm.  Rein  ad  me.  and  1  am 
of  u  .....  n  a  la  i  m  .  curtail  me  now.  ami  I  am  a  la 

Vorile  beverage. 

•,'.  1  am  a  wild  beast  Curtail  me,  and  I  will 
st  rangle  you  ;  behead  me.  and  I  am  iisetul  on  I'M 
water  '  l.ri.r  N.  S. 

::  1  I  am  a  spectre.  Behead  me.  and  I  am  a 
t  hri  ing 

-.'  I  am  a  boy's  name  l:eln  ad  me.  and  I  am  a 
mark  ;  bchea.l  me  again,  and  I  am  a  vehicle 

(  J  Y  i-s  Y  . 


Ithinche  K.  P.:  I  hope  the  humming-bird  still 
thrives  on  his  dainty  diet.— K.  W..  Jlnud  S.  II.. 
and  T.  s.  :  You  must  have  felt  sorry  for  the  go- 
phers, although  they  were  such  pests. — J.  IS.  Ii.. 
Corn  M.  Jl..  Iil:i  L..  John  V..  liolmont  H..  Jennie 
P..  Johnnie  I!..  Jlilton  S.  P.,  AV.ittie  M.  H.,  May  1!.. 
*l:i-.—  i.  M..  Chatty  !>..  Zna,  and  Hub)  have  all  writ- 
t.-n  verv  pleasant  letters.— Will  somebody  tell 
Hiittie  V.  a  prdty  way  to  use  and  preserve  her 
collection  of  advertising  cards.  She  does  not 
vvi-h  to  make  either  a  screen  or  a  scrap-book. 
\\  rit.  tor  publication  in  the  Post-office  Box.  not 
personally  to  Ilattie,  if  you  please.— Katie  War- 
ner. Laird.  Frontier  County,  Nebraska,  would  like 
to  hear  from  the  person  who  sent  her  a  copy  "f 
Tli,  sn-'is*  Finn'iltj  liiiliinsoH,  bound  in  yellowi-h- 
browii  and  black.  The  name  and  address  were 


NO.  •:. 

HOUR-GLASS. 

N.I.I-       :     I  boat.    -V  Refuse.    :i.  A  tatter.     I 
A  letter.    !>.  AiMi.    ti.  li'oyal.    7.  A  town  in  Great 

'Iritain      Lett  down       An  African  animal      [tight 
down.     A  city  in  Africa.          Mrs.  SIITI  &  C'o. 


No  :;. 

N  r.Mi:nn  .vl.  I:NII..MA. 

The  w  In  ile  is  a  riv  er  in  the  Eastern  hemisphere 
M  |    l    I.'.'.:,  is  to  injure. 
MI   ,    ii.  1 1.  in  is  to  separate. 
My    in.  I'.'.  II  is  a  sailor. 
\l  y  [,  8, 9, 10  is  part  of  a  coach. 

LlI.LIi:   ZlMMliltJlAN. 


No.  4. 

l  \-v    I.MI:MAS 

1    Mv  tits!  is  in  goat,  but  not  in  kid. 
\1  v  second  is  in  cov  cr.  hut  not  in  lid. 
Mv  third  is  in  cow.  but  not  in  call 
My  fourth  is  in  quarter,  but  not  in  half. 
My  fifth  is  in  grease,  but  not  in  oil. 
My  sixth  is  in  keep,  but  not  in  spoil 
My  whole  is  a  name  you  often  hear 
on  t  he  plav  ground  vvhen  the  In  iv  s  appear. 

(i.    I   .  SVVAINE. 

•.'    \lv  lirst  is  in  calf,  but  not  in  cmv 

My  second  in  feather,  hut  tint  in  blow. 

My  third  is  in  m y.  but  not  in  pay 

My  fourth  is  in  honey,  but  not  in  hay. 
My  tit'tli  is  in  nice,  but  not  in  horrid  ' 
"My  sixth  is  in  warm,  but  not  in  torrid. 
My  seventh  is  in  window,  but  not  in  floor. 
M\  eighth  is  in  mantel,  but  not  ill  door. 
My  whole  is  a  very  refreshing  drink, 
Sometimes  white,  and  sometimes  pink. 

la  1.1    N    S 


ANSWKKS  TO  1TZZLES  IX  Xo 


No  V 


P. 

R 

A 

N 

S    E 

A 

L 

1! 

A 

C 

K 

E 

A 

S 

K 

A 

c 

i; 

E 

A 

S 

I 

A 

X 

E 

E 

II 

L 

E 

A 

1) 

T 

rum 

P 

H 

yperlio] 

E 

A 

ntediluvi; 

l  X 

<  • 

arlsba 

1> 

K 

ettl 

E 

K 

to 

X 

K 

ui 

X 

A 

nt 

I 

Y 

e 

s 

I  am- 

The  answer  to  the  puzzle  "Hidden  Birds"  on 
68  "I  No.  AI.-I  is  :  Heron.  Kingfisher,  Thrush, 
1  inch.  Robin.  Gull.  Wren.  Crow.  Haven,  Hawk. 
Swan.  Snipe.  Owl.  Nightingale.  Ostrich.  Parrot. 
Sparrow.  Swallow,  crane.  Canary.  Stork.  Whip- 
poor-will,  Dove,  Spoonbill. 


Corrcci  answers  to  puzzles  have  been  recei\  i  d 
from  Sue  I!  Stribling. , I.  c.  Ketehum.  Oscar  Hop- 
good.  Arthur  Bancroft.  Gazetta,  Louis  B.  I".  N  . 
Belle  Pujfh.  Belle  Washer.  Marion  Burch.  Felicia 
Karley,  Jennie  A..  Amy  Ilounstield.  Fanny'  Kd 
wards.  Fannie  Smith.  Kniliia  W.  (deason.  Pansy 
h'awnoiid.  Lillie  Meyer,  Elsie  De  Forest.  Lillian 
Daniel.  Emma  Sheibel.  Edwin  T.  Pollock.  Kditb 
Delalield.  Charles  E.  Timmerman,  Lettie  M.  Ala- 
son,  i.'obin  Dyke,  Alexander  Hamilton  Ceorgc. 
Arthur  H. Timmerman, Lucie  Pease.  Helen.  Mark. 
and  Mamie  Engel,  Robert  Coe.  Harry  Stiles,  Alice 
Belin,  Louise  Graves,  Timothy  Trumhull,  Cricket, 
l.otla.  (iiissie  Hieronimus.  Carrie  E.  Dyer.  A.  Ce 
eil  Perry.  .Inn  .M.  F.  !>.,  Sporting  Bob.  Fannie  \V. 
In-vden.  Herbert  P..  Foster.  Fannie  c..  c.  t,  P. 
charlotte  and  Arthur.  Raldie,  and  Harry  Kensett. 


[I'oi 


t  •!'!  anil  Zil  piir/t.-s  of  corer.\ 


816 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


VOLUME  IV. 


THE  KITTEN'S 
PARTY. 

BY    CHAEA   BROUGHT  ON. 


I(iAVE  my  pussy  a  party, 
Ami  asked  all  the  kittens  I  knew: 
Ruse  and  Minnie  and  Sweetheart 
(Their  mistresses  all  came  too), 

Lily  and  Snow-white  and  Daisy 
(I  can't  name  them  all,  I'm  sure), 

And  Irish  Ben's  little  Vixen — 

For  we  must  "remember  the  poor." 

But  Rose,  that  "lady-like"  kitten, 
Drank  up  all  the  milk  on  the  sly; 

And  Vixeu  scratched  Pet  on  her  little 
Pink  nose  till  she  made  her  crv. 


Well,  that  I  might  have  expected 

From  such  a  neglected  child. 
But  they  all  fell  to  squalling  and   fighting, 

Till  I  thought  I  should  just  go  wild. 

Bridget  she  stormed  and  scolded 

Till  she  nearly  lost  her  breath, 
Then  drove  them  all  out  with  a  broomstick: 

I'm  mortified  'most  to  death. 

But  never  mind,  Pet,  my  darling; 

Jump  np  on  your  mistress's  knee, 
And  we'll  have  a  party  together — 

Yes,  just  little  you  and  me. 


THINK  OF  A  NUMBER. 

your  neighbor  to  think  of  any  number  he  likes,  but 
^  not  to  tell  you  what  it  is.  Tell  him  then  to  double  it. 
When  he  has  done  that  let  him  add  an  even  number  to  it,  which 
you  yourself  must  give  him.  After  doing  this  he  must  halve 
the  whole,  then  from  what  is  left  take  away  the  number  he 
lirst  thought  of.  When  he  shall  arrive  so  far,  if  his  calcula- 
tions have  all  been  made  correctly, you  will  be  able  to  give  him 
the  exact  remainder,  which  will  simply  be  the  half  of  the  even 
number  you  told  him  to  add  to  his  own. 


THE  GLOW-WORM  AND  THE  FLY. 

AN  artist,  while  painting  in  a  forest  one  sunny  afternoon, 
was  attracted  by  an  unusually  sharp  buzzing  amongst  the 
dry  leaves  at  his  feet.  On  inquiring  into  its  cause  he  discovered 
a  glow-worm  dragging  to  its  den  an  unfortunate  blue-bottle, 
which  was  securely  gripped  in  its  captor's  jaws. 

The  tlv  managed  to  wriggle  about  for  a  time,  and  during  the 
struggles  the  llashings  from  the  glow-worm's  "lamp"  were  fre- 
quent, and  ceased  only  when  the  fly  was  slain.  The  glow-worm 
convejed  its  prey  to  the  den,  and  then  returning,  hid  behind  a 
leaf,  in  wait  for  another  victim.  Meanwhile  a  black  ant,  avail- 
ing it  self  of  the  glow-worm's  absence  from  home,  took  the  liberty 
of  carrying  off  the  dead  fly. 

When  the  glow-worm  perceived  the  ant  making  off  with  the 
dinner  which  at  some  trouble  it  had  provided  for  itself,  it  be- 
came quite  excited,  and  though  it  had  not  the  courage  to  at- 
tack the  ant,  its  light  Hashed  unceasingly.  The  artist  put  an 
end  to  its  distress  by  "flicking"  the  ant  away,  whereupon  the 
glow-worm  once  more  carried  off  the  fly  in  triumphant  fashion. 


A    FALL    SPORT- -FOOT-BALL. 


YOUNG  PEOPLE 


AN    ILLUSTRATED,  .WEEKLY. 


i  rr 


WITH     SUPPLEMENT. 


VOL.  IV. -NO.  209. 


Tiu"<il:iv,  October  :«>.  is.*:. 


I'nu.rsiiKi,   i:v    11AIIPKU  A:    BEOTHEES.  NEW  YORK. 

Copyright,  l^-:,  ;.\    HAHPIK  A  BROTHKBA. 


PKICE    FIVE    CENTS. 


S1.50  per  Year,  in  Advance. 


THE    LOST    CITY: 

OR,     THE     BOY    EXPLORERS     IN     CENTRAL    ASIA. 
BY    DA  V  I  I>    K  Kl{. 


CHAPTER  III. 
A  TURCOMAN   DINNER   PARTY   IN   Till.    HKSKRT. 

ERNKST  CLAIRM<  >XT.  Afghanistan,  to  R..l>ert  Haw- 
kins, Rugby,  sefideth  greeting,  this  twenty-sixth  day 
of  August,  L879. 

hi.AK  BOB, — We're  in 
Afghanistan  at  last,  and  a 
funny  place  it  is.  By  this 
time  you'll  liavc  got  my 
last  ii'ltiT,  Iclliiij;1  how  Tom 
Hilton  mi-t  me  at  (  >ivnl>m-u 
(the  border  town,  of  Russia, 
you  know),  and  how  \vc 
went  together  aeross  the 
desert,  past  the  Aral  Lake, 
and  up  the  Jaxartes  to  Tash- 
kent. It's  not  the  Jax- 
artes  now.  though,  for  the 
natives  call  it  'Syr-Daria,' 
or  Clean  River.  I  suppose 
because  it's  the  dirtiest  riv- 
er I  ever  set  eyes  on. 

' '  Little  enough  did  I  ever 
think,  old  fellow,  when  you 
and  1  used  to  grind  over 
Alexander's  crossing  of  the 
Jaxartes  and  the  Oxus,  that 
I  should  cross  them  my- 
self someday;  but  I've  seen 
queerer  things  than  that 
since  I  started.  What  do 
you  think  of  our  coming 
to  a  bit  of  desert  where  all 
the  people  were  living  in 
holes  under  the  earth  ?  T<  > 
see  their  heads  popping  up 
out  of  the  ground  like  rah- 
bits  to  look  at  us  was  the 
most  comical  .sight  you  can 
imagine. 

"We  ought  to  he  in  C'a 
bool  the  day  after  to-mor- 


Beeun  in  N'n.  m.     . 
YnrN<;  PEOPLE. 


"IS   IT  PEACE?' 


818 


HAMPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


VOLUME  IV. 


row,  and  then  I'll  have  a  chance  of  seeing-  what  an  Afghan 
capital  is  like.  It's  great  fun  going  about  in  these  out-of- 
the-way  places,  and  seeing-  for  one's  self  all  the  queer  people 
that  one  used  to  read  about  and  see  pictures  of  at  home. 
Yon  remember  how  we  thought  Gibbon  was  stretching 
it.  ratln-r,  when  he  said  that  the  Tartars  had  no  beards. 
"Well,  it's  as  true  as  can  be;  I  was  in  among  a  whole  cam]) 
of  them  the  other  day,  and  there  wasn't  a  single  beard 
among  the  lot! 

"  At  first  I  felt  just  as  if  I'd  been  making-  friends  with 
a  herd  of  monkeys;  for  really,  with  their  long  arms  and 
low  foreheads,  and  small  narrow  eyes,  and  heads  as  round 
as  skittle-balls,  and  flat  noses  and  big  mouths  (to  say  no- 
thing of  their  greasy  cloaks  of  camel's-bair  or  sheep-skin  ), 
they  might  have  gone  right  into  a  menagerie  just  as  they 
were.  But  they  received  us  very  civilly,  and  gave  me 
some  kumyss  (fermented  mare's  milk),  which  tasted  some- 
thing like  ginger-beer.  Tom  says  it's  sold  in  New  York 
now.  and  that  the  people  there  take  it  as  medicine.  And 
then  the  old  khan — who  must  have  been  made  chief  of 
I  he  tribe  on  the  strength  of  his  being  the  ugliest  man  in 
it — kindly  invited  me  to  sit  down  upon  a  newly  flayed 
sheep-skin  with  the  bloody  side  uppermost.  Out  of  respect 
for  my  white  cotton  trousers.  I  'deelinecl  with  thanks.'  as 
the  editor  of  the  Rugby  Mesfseityci'  did  with  my  first  poem. 

"But  all  this  while  I  am  forgetting  to  tell  yon  what 
brings  us  here.  The  Russians  are  sending  an  envoy  to 
persuade  the  new  Ameer  of  Afghanistan,  Yakoob  Khan. 
into  doing  something  they  want,  and  Colonel  Hilton's 
going  with  him  to  back  him  up  and  see  fair  play.  We've 
got  another  passenger,  too,  who's  the  best  fun  of  all — that 
jolly  old  Russian  Professor,  who  is  hunting  for  the  Lost 
City,  and  who  thinks  Cabool  a  likely  point  for  his  start  in 
search  of  it,  especially  as  he  expects  to  get  a  guide  there 
who  knows  the  whole  country  by  heart. 

"  Talking  of  Afghans,  they  must  be  a  queer  lot  if  they're 
all  like  those  we've  seen.  Every  man  you  meet  looks  as 
if  he  were  pining  for  a  chance  of  cutting  your  throat  ; 
and  when  I  asked  the  Colonel  what  was  the  meaning  of  a 
lot  of  small  round  towers  of  dried  mud.  with  one  little 
hole  in  the  side,  which  were  dotted  all  over  the  plains,  lie 
told  me  they  were  for  the  people  of  the  country  to  creep 
into  whenever  they  saw  robbers  coming. 

"However,  our  Afghan  groom,  Sikander  I  Alexander), 
is  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  stepped;  and  it's  great  fun  to 
hear  him  and  old  Bill  Barlow  arguing  about  the  Afghan 
war.  Bill,  being  an  English  soldier,  is  a  1 1  for  drill  and 
precision,  and  thinks  it  too  bad  that  the  Afghans  didn't 
'come  fairly  out  and  light  in  reg'lar  border  of  battle,  like 
men.'  Then  Sikander  laughs,  and  asks  what's  the  sense 
of  coming  out  and  getting  shot,  when  you  can  hit  your 
man  from  behind  a  rock  or  a  tree  without  showing  your- 
self at  all.  Then  old  Bill  grunts  that  that's  work  for 
weasels,  not  for  men  ;  and  so  they  go  on  by  the  hour. 
The  other  night  I  found  Bill  trying  to  explain  to  Sikan- 
der what  a  railway  was  like,  and  setting  up  a  row  o.f  si is 

to  represent  the  train.  The  Afghan  listened  very  atten- 
tively till  it  came  to  the  laying  of  the  rails,  and  then  he 
said  the'  English  magicians  must  be  very  foolish  to  trouble 
about  laying  down  a  road  for  their  enchanted  ears,  when 
the.\  could  just  as  easily  make  them  iiy  through  the  air; 
after  which  Bill  gave  him  up  as  a  bad  job.  However, 
I  lie\  're  always  capital  friends,  for  all  that. 

"And  now  for  the  best  part  of  my  story.  While  we 
were  crossing  the  steppes  before  we  got  down  to  the  Oxus 
we  had  an  extra  long  march  one  day  to  reach  a  little 
stream  beside  which  we  meant  to  camp  for  the  night,  for 
in  Central  Asia,  I  can  tell  you,  the  lirst  thing  yon  think 
of  is  to  keep  within  reach  of  water.  It  was  late  in  the 
(•veiling  before  we  got  to  it.  but  as  we  came  over  a  low 

•  This  is  trur  ;,!,,,  ,,f  Southern  Afghanistan,  where  I  pussi'il  niuro 
than  a  dozen  of  thfsc  toners  nithin  a  I'm  miles.  — I).  K. 


swell  of  land  that  overlooked  it,  what  should  we  see  be- 
low but  a  do/en  tires  twinkling  through  the  dusk.  We 
also  heard  a  sound  of  men  talking,  and  horses  neighing, 
and  camels  snorting  and  screeching,  as  if  there  were  a 
regular  camp  there. 

•'  We  were  ralber  taken  aback,  as  yon  may  suppose,  but 
we  hadn't  long  to  think  over  it.  The  moment  we  were 
seen  on  the  brow  of  the  slope  tliera  was  a  great  bustle 
and  shouting  in  the  camp,  and  up  jumped  from  beside  the 
nearest  fire  some  twenty  wild-looking  fellows  with  loiiy- 
guns  in  their  hands,  whose  dark  faces,  and  gleaming  e\  es, 
and  sharp  white  teeth,  with  the  red  glare  of  the  lire  upon 
them,  made  as  grim  a  show  as  any  'brave  of  the  Dela- 
wares'  in  Fenimore  Cooper. 

''Another  moment,  and  we  would  all  have  been  firing 
and  hacking  awaj  at  each  other  without  knowing  why,  for 
every  stranger  is  au  enemy  in  the  desert.  But  in  the  very 
nick  of  time  the  C'olonel  snatched  a  lance  from  one  of  our 
Cossacks,  tied  a  white  scarf  to  it,  and  rode  forward  single- 
handed  to  meet  them. 

'  '  Amaun  ust  '.'  ( is  it  peace  .'i  he  called  out,  as  soon  as  he 
was  near  enough  to  be  heard. 

'  '  lush'  Allah,  amaun  ust'  (please  God,  it  is  peace),  an- 
swered the  foremost  fellow,  and  the  Colonel  went  up  and 
shook  hands  with  him.  They  talked  together  for  a  min- 
ute or  two,  and  then  hack  came  the  C'olonel,  bringing  the 
whole  crowd  along  with  him.  There  was  another  little 
talk,  and  then  they  bade  us  welcome,  and  told  us  las  it's 
the  correct  thing  to  do  here)  that  all  they  had  was  ours. 
though  I  don't  much  think  they'd  have  approved  of  it  if 
we'd  taken  'em  at  their  word. 

"It  seems  they  were  a  band  of  Turcomans  on  the  look 
out  for  fresh  pasture  for  their  beasts,  and  they  had  camp- 
ed here  only  a  few  hours  before  we  came  up;  so  when 
they  saw  us  they  thought  we  \\  ere  another  party  coininy 
to  drive  them  away.  But  everything  was  soon  explain- 
ed, and  in  half  an  hour  we  had  our  tents  pitched  and  our 
horses  picketed  right  in  the  middle  of  their  camp:  and  lh  • 
last  thing  I  heard  before  I  fell  asleep  was  a  Turcoman 
sentinel  howling  out  an  endless  native  song,  while  bis 
voice  sounded  just  like  a  dog  shut  out  on  a  cold  night. 

"  The  next  morning  I  wanted  to  go  out  and  look  about 
me,  but  the  C'olonel  stopped  me.  say  ing  that  we  must  stay 
in  the  lent  till  t  bey  came  to  invite  us  out.  or  they  wouldn't 
think  anything  of  us  at  all.  And  so  it  proved;  for  .sud- 
denly the  tenl  flap  was  lifted,  and  there  stood  two  tall, 
line-looking  Turcomans  in  high  caps  of  black  sheep-skin, 
one  with  a  whealen  cake  in  his  hands,  and  the  other  u  ith 
an  earthen  jar  of  milk. 

'Peace  be  with   you,   my   lords,'  said  the  foremost 
'Thus  saith   Hadji   Vussuf  (Pilgrim  Joseph).  Chit  f  of  the 
Black  Turcomans:    Let  the  messenger  of  the  greal  C/.ar. 
and  the  other  (  )orooso  i  Russian  I  princes,  be  pleased  to  light 
up  with  their  presence  the  lent  of  a  Turcoman  warrior.' 

'The  messenger  of  the  great  Czar  may  not  cross  any 
threshold  save  that  of  I  he  Ameer  himself.'  ailswen  d  tiie 
Colonel,  quite  majestically,  'but  the  ears  of  the  Russian 
princes  are  open  to  the  fair  words  of  Hadji  Ynssuf.  Let 
the  chief  of  many  warriors  send  us  camels,  that  our  feet 
may  not  soil  his  threshold  with  the  desert  sand.' 

"So  saying  he  dipped  a  piece  of  the  cake  in  the  milk 
and  swallowed  it.  after  which  the  worthy  savages  retired, 
looking  very  much  impressed.  In  about  half  an  hour 
they  came  hack  with  two  camels,  and  the  Colonel  and 
Professor  Makaroll'  mounted  one,  while  Tom  and  I  got 
upon  the  other,  lying  at  opposite  ends  of  a  big  wooden 
tray  girthed  on  the  beast's  hack.  When  it  first  started  I 
felt  as  if  I  were  being  rolled  about  in  my  berth  by  a  squall 
in  the  Bay  of  Biscay;  but  I  very  soon  got  used  to  it. 

"We  found  the  chief  (a  grand  old  fellow  with  a  long 
white  beard)  sitting  cross-legged  on  a  carpet  in  a  big  tent 
of  gray  felt.  We  all  kicked  off  our  shoes  on  going  in, 
and  the  Colonel  laid  his  sabre  at  the  chief's  feet  to  show 


nrroliKIl  :;<>.  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YorXG  PEOPLE— WITH  Snn.KMENT. 


819 


thai  In-  meant  no  harm.  Tin-  old  gentleman  received  us 
very  politely,  and  ordered  in  several  huge  wooden  bowls 
of  tea.  One  sip  was  enough  for  nn-.  for  \\  liat  with  salt  in- 
stead of  sugar,  and  rancid  mutton  fat  instead  of  milk,  it 
was  the  nastiest  stuff  I  ever  tasted. 

"Then  the  .>ld  fellow  drew  up  the  tent  llap.  and  told 
ii.--  lu  seal  ourselves  in  the  doorway.  \Ve  had  hardly  sal 
down  when  there  came  a  yell  that  made  us  all  .lump,  and 
a  do/.en  horsemen  came  tearing  OUl  from  aiming  the  tents 
as  if  llyiny  I'm-  their  lives,  with  1  went  \  more  in  full  cry 
after  them,  firing  their  rilles  anil  yelling  like  mail.  Sud- 
denly the  hunted  men  u  1 1  eel.- 1 1  round  and  came  back  upon 
their  pursuers  like  a  t  hunder  holt  :  and  in  a  moment  they 
were  all  mixed  up  loyeiher  in  a  wliirl  of  dn.st  and  smoke, 
siahbiny.  hacking,  slashing,  and  pounding  with  the  Lull- 
ends  of  I  heir  pieces,  t  he  spea  r  lie  ids  J  I  it  teri  n  L;'.  I  he  swords 
Hashing,  and  the  \erv  hordes  kickiny  and  biting  most 
ionsly.  I  began  lo  feel  for  my  revolver,  thinking- 
the  camp  was  attack  d  :  hut  Tom  whispered  to  me  that  it 
was  only  a  sham  liyht.  yot  up  to  eniertaiii  us. 

"But  tin   show  of  the  day  was  the  concluding  diuu.  r 
twelve    courses    at     least,  and    everybodj    expected    |u    eat 
heartily  of  each.      You   remeniher  l!illy  Guttleton   eating 
seventeen  jam  tarts  at  a  silt  inn'  '.    well,  any  of  I  hcse  Til  rco 
man  fellows  would  do  thai  just  to  gel   up  an  apprlile  liefore 
the  real  dinner  came  (.11  at  all.       1  had  lo  keep  m\   - 
a  fellow  opposite  me.  to  make  sure  that   he  wasn't   st  idling 
it  all  into  a  leathern  bay  inside  his  clothes.  like  .la. 
(  tianf  -killer. 

"  h'irst    came  a   kind  of  soup  of  mill;   and   hitler  herbs. 
uol    at   all    tlie  soli  of  st  n  IV    for  a    ruiiyh   dav    ;,l    sea.       Then 
followed  little  square  blocks  of  roast  meal  sen  eil  on  wood 
en    skewers,  succeeded    by  a   mess  of  rice  and    mutt' 
liiick  and  heavy  enough  to  choke  an  elephant,  which  the 
old   chief  scooped  out    of  the   how  I    with    his    lingers,  and 
crammed  into  my  mouth.      Nine  or  ten  other  dishes   to] 
lowed,  among   which    Tom    declared    lliat     he     , 
camel;   bill    1    hope   he  was   mistaken,   for   in    this  country 
they  only  cat    such    as   have   died   of  old    aye  or   disease. 
\Vlien   I   ".ol    up  to  go   I    felt  as  if  I  weighed   a   thousand 
pounds:   and  that   night   I  drc; •'!    I    was  a    ball just 

going  to  burst  from  being  overfilled  with  gas. 

"lint  1  mils!  break  oil',  for  it's  yet  liny  dark,  and  here 
comes  Si k. i  n der  to  announce  supper.  I f \ on  ever  yet  this, 
which  I  douh],  for  the  Tartar  who  carries  ii  m.i\  \crv 
likely  be  shot  on  the  way.  replv  soon,  and  believe  me. 
yours  truly,  K. 

[TO    UK    I  (IMINI  EH.J 


IN   A    HorsK-l'.oAT. 
^  j?onnwl. 

BY    DINAH    MULOCK    CRAIK, 
AUTHOK  OF  ".Tuiix  HALIFAX,  GENTLEMAN." 

VERY  one  of  my  five  yirU 
could  handle  an  oar.  some 
better,  some  worse  :  and 
how  they  did  enjoy  their 
row  !  The  two  youngest 
took  turns,  and  succeeded 
at  least  in  "catching  crabs" 
with  much  fun  and  ease. 

On  and  on,  till  we  were 
stopped   by   a   lock.       The 
three  evils  of  the  Thames 
are  locks,  weirs,  and  lash- 
ers.    So  we  turned  and 
let  ourselves  drift  back 
with    the    current,    now 
Now   and   then   we    "hugged"   the 


running  verv   fast. 


bank,  and  gathered  thence  a  huge  handful  of  purple  loose- 


stutf.  blue  and  white  huyloss.  meadow-sweet,  forget-me-not 
— the  Thames  is  rich  in  water- Howers.  On  we  floated, 
over  great  beds  of  water-lilies,  yellow  or  white,  which 
grew  in  a  quiet  little  "hack-water."  where  we  nearly  got 
stranded  on  a  shoal  and  pierced  with  a  snag'.  But  "a 
miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile, "said  we,  and  were  more  careful 

anot  her  time. 

"  Look — a  private  gallows!"  exclaimed  Tuum,  who  had 
a  droll,  bright  way  of  putting  I  h ings.  "We  mustn't  go 
there  mi  anv  account."  lint  it  w  as  only  an  odd  arra .nyc- 
nienl  for  catching  eels;  so  we  examined  it,  laughed,  and 
passed  on. 

The  sun   had  long  sel,  and  the  moon  was  setting — the 

little  young    m ;.  like  a  silver  boat— when  we  re-enter 

ed  our  "happy  home"  lor  supper  and  bed,  the  second 
speedily  following  the  lirst.  for  various  excellent  reasons. 
one  lieiny  that  the  supper  table  was  required  for  Adam's 
Ee  had  his  choice  whether  to  sleep  on  it  or  under 
it.  and  preferred  the  hitl.T.  as  being  "more  like  a  four- 
poster."  Adam  is  by  nature  almost  as  silent  as  his  horses, 
but  his  few  remarks,  ter.se,  dry.  and  shrewd,  often  pass 
into  family  proverbs. 

So  all  llr-  I'iiKi/'urc'x  crew  sank  into  repose,  except  one. 
who  has  an  occasional  had  habit  of  lying  awake  "lill  the 
daj  break  and  the  shadows  lice  away."  How  gloriously 
it  did  break,  thai  dawn  on  llie  Thames!  and  how  strange 
were  the  rher  Bounds,  the  chirping  of  birds  and  the  low- 
ing of  cattle  mingling  willi  other  strange  noises,  after 
w  ard  discovered  to  he  the  la pping  of  swans'  beaks  against 
I !  barge  and  Ihe  water  rals  ca  rccring  about  underneath. 

Tin   eswans,  of  which  our  artist  has  taken  some  port  raits, 

pride  and  ornament  of  the  Thames.      Tliev  bdony 

10  the  Thames  (  onservaiiev  ( 'or  po  rat  ion,  and  no  one  is  al- 
lowed  to  molest  and   deslrov    Ihem.      They  sail  about  like 
kinys    and    queens,    followed   by  (heir   families,   and   are 
pel  led  and   fed  andadmired  until  they  become  quite  tame. 
They    used    to   gather  round   our    boa  I    and   eat  out   of  the 
girls'   hands;    and   their   motions,   always    full    of   grace, 

w  i  re  a  delight    lo  behold. 

I'aivn  came,  and  with  it  the  power  to  face  and  enjoy 
another  new  day. 

A  holidav   i.s  never  the  worse  when  there  runs  through 

11  a  stratum     a  verv   thin  stratum — of  work.      So  the  Iwo 
working  bees,  author  and  arlisl,  decided  to  be  put  ashore 
after  breakfast  and  left  under  two  trees  with  their  several 
tasks,   while   the   others  enjoyed  themselves  till  dinner- 
time, when  we  expected  friends,  who  were  to  row  about 
ten  miles  ID  spend  I  he  day  with  us. 

Dinner  reminds  me  of  our  domestic  affairs,  which,  eon 
sideriug  that  food  for  eight  or  ten  hungry  people  does  not 
y  row  on  every  bush,  were  important.  Groceries  and  other 
stores  we  brought  with  us,  but  bread,  milk,  butter,  fruit, 
and  vegetables  we  had  to  y  t  from  the  inn  opposite,  which 
also  sent  us  our  meat,  ready  cooked,  it  being  impossible  to 
roast  a-  joint  on  board  the  I'/iinfore.  Fresh-water,  too, 
we  had  to  get  from  the  inn  pump,  river  water  not  being 
wholesome  for  drinking. 

Great  fun  were  those  endless  rows  with  jugs  and  cans, 
for  we  were  all  thirsty  souls,  and  all,  even  Adam,  teetotal- 
ers. The  amount  of  milk  we  got  through  was  such  that 
some  one  suggested  it  would  save  trouble  to  fetch  the  cow 
on  board.  The  kindly  landlady  bade  us  "gather  our  fruit 
for  ourselves,"  so  we  often  brought  home  a  boat-load  of 
well-earned  food — potatoes,  pease,  crisp  lettuces  pulled  up 
by  the  roots,  and  eaten  as  rabbits  eat  them,  with  rasp- 
berries and  cherries  and  currants  to  our  hearts'  content. 
It  was  almost  as  good  as  shooting  or  fishing  one's  dinner. 
And,  by-the-bye,  the  sight  of  the  fish  jumping  up  round 
the  boat  brought  the  saddest  look  to  Adam's  amiable 
countenance. 

"If  I  had  but  a  rod  and  line,  ma'am,  I'd  catch  them 
for  dinner."  And  very  nasty  they  might  have  been,  I 
thought— river  fish  generally  are;  yet  politeness  would 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMEXT. 


VOLCME   IV. 


FEEDING   THE   S\VANS. 

have  obliged  us  to  eat  them,  so  perhaps  all   was  for  the 
best. 

After  a  mirthful  day  our  guests  departed,  fearing  a 
thunder-storm,  which  never  came,  and,  to  rest  their  arms, 
my  five  girls  decided  to  stretch  their  legs  and  take  a  walk 
on  shore.  The  said  walk  became  a  run  linally.  "Let's 
have  a  run,"  said  the  biggest  of  them  and  the  most  beau- 
tiful. As  she  tucked  up  her  skirts  she  looked  a  real  Ata- 
lanta.  The  second  in  height,  and  only  a  trifle  less  in 
grace  and  activity,  did  the  same;  and  off  they  started 
up  what  seemed  a  solitary  road,  when  lo!  suddenly  ap- 
peared two  young-  Oxford  men,  book  in  hand!  What 
they  thought  of  the  apparition  of  these  two  young  ath- 
letes, and  the  three  other  girls  behind,  all  of  whom  col- 
lapsed suddenly  into  decorum,  will  never  be  known;  but 
I  doubt  if  they  read  much  for  the  next  ten  minutes. 

The  run  thus  stopped,  we  thought  we  would  go  soberly 
iiitu  the  village  church-yard,  where  two  old  men  were 
solemnly  making  bay  of  the  grass  cut  over  the  graves. 
Thence  we  passed  into  a  quiet  wood,  and  finally  came 
home,  hungry  as  usual,  to  supper,  and  so  concluded  our 
.second  day. 

No,  not  concluded.  Ahoiii  eleven  P.M.  happened  a  most 
dramatic  incident.  A  sudden  and  violent  bump  caused 
the  Pinafore  to  shake  from  stem  to  stern,  and  woke  us  all 
up.  Some  declared  that  they  heard  a  voice  exclaim, 
"Hullo,  Bill:  where  are  you  going  to ''."  and  others  vowed 
they  heard  a  great  rattling  at  what  we  called  our  "  front 
door."  Adam  was  loudly  called,  and  he  and  his  mistress, 
in  rath,  r  hasty  toilettes,  carefully  examined  every  corner, 
but  all  was  safe.  Then  we  looked  out,  in  ease  there  had 
been  an  accident;  but  nothing  could  be  seen.  The  rivet- 
flowed  on,  lonely,  dark,  and  still.  I  entered  the  cabin, 
where  five  maidens  all  in  while  stood  together  in  a  group 
not  unlike  the  daughters  of  Niobe,  and  took  their  evi- 
dence. However,  as  the  mystery,  whatever  it  was,  could 
mot  be  solved,  we  all  went  to  bed:  and  Adam  bavins-,  with 
his  usual  faithfulness,  poked  into  every  place  that  a  thief 
or  even  a  fly  could  enter,  made  the  brief  remark.  "  Pirates!'' 
and  retired  again  to  his  table. 

The  only  result  of  this  remarkable  occurrence  was  that 
about  eight  next  morning,  (hiding  a  solemn  silence  in- 
stead of  the  usual  tremendous  chatter.  I  went  in  to  look 
-:it  my  girls,  and  found  them  all  five  lying  fast,  asleep, 
"like  tops."  As  it  was  a  pelting  wet  morning,  with  the 
•wind  blowing  afler  a  fashion  which  required  all  one's 


imagination  to  make  believe  that  our  dwelling  was  "quite 
steady,"  this  breaking  of  my  Mede  and  Persian  rule  of  an 
eight-o'clock  breakfast  was  less  important;  but  I  said,  re- 
morselessly, "This  must  never  happen  again."  Nor  did  it. 

Their  laziness  lost  my  girls  the  great  excitement  of  the 
day.  A  sudden  outcry  from  Adam  of  "The  boat!  the 
boat!"  revealed  the  alarming  sight  of  our  little  Bib,  which 
had  got  unmoored,  drifting  away  calmly  at  her  own  sweet 
will  down  stream.  There  we  were!  For  a  moment  Adam 
looked  as  if  he  meant  to  swim  after  her;  then  he  changed 
his  mind  and  halloed  with  all  his  strength.  Female  voices 
joined  the  chorus.  At  lirst  we  were  in  despair,  for  at  that 
hour  and  on  such  a  wet  morning  there  was  not  a  soul  to 
be  seen  at  the  hotel  garden  or  ferry,  whither  the  pretty 
Bib  was  floating,  just  as  if  she  had  gone  of  her  own  ac- 
cord to  fetch  the  letters.  A  last  agonized  shout  we  made, 
and  then  we  saw  a  man  push  out,  evidently  thinking  some- 
body was  drowning.  He  caught  the  position,  and  the 
boat,  which  in  another  minute  or  two  would  have  drifted 
past,  and  brought  her  back  to  us  in  triumph. 

After  this  we  settled  down,  thankful  that  things  were 
no  worse,  in  spite  of  a  dreary  down-pour  and  a  wind  that 
rattled  every  door  and  window  of  our  frail  dwelling.  The 
girls'  countenances  fell.  "What  in  the  world  shall  we 
do  .'" 

Now,  though  the  happiest  days  of  my  life  are  spent 
among  young  people,  I  have  always  found  that  a  certain 
amount  of  law  and  order  is  as  good  for  them  as  for  my- 
self, else  we  get  "demoralized."  So,  instead  of  hanging 
about  and  moaning,  wondering  when  it  would  clear  up, 
and  if  it  didn't  clear  up  what  would  become  of  us,  I  set 
everybody  to  doing  something. 

Two  of  the  girls  cleaned  the  lied  rooms,  and  exulted  over 
the  "dust"  they  swept  away,  another  wrote  home  letters. 
and  a  fourth  gave  us  delightful  music  oil  the  harmonium. 
The  artist  had,  of  course,  her  own  proper  work,  sitting  in 
the  shelter  of  the  kitchen  doorway,  the  result  of  which  you 
see  in  the  picture.  And  when  about  eleven  the  sky  cleared 
and  grew  into  a  lovely  July  day,  breezy  and  bright,  with 
white  clouds  careering  about,  we  felt  we  had  well  earned 
our  happiness. 

Still.it  was  too  stormy  to  row  much;  so  we  explored 
the  shore  on  either  side — first  the  abbey,  beside  which  was 
the  hotel  and  its  garden,  and  also  a  farm-yard,  witli  ha\ 
stacks  almost  touching  the  ancient  ruins  which  date  from 
the  time  of  King  John. 

Then,  after  the  important  interval  of  tea,  came  a  long 
walk  on  the  opposite  hank.  There,  protected  from  Un- 
wind by  three  umbrellas,  the  party  sat  admiring  the  view, 
and  themselves  making  a  picture,  in  which  our  artist  lias 
here  immortalized  them.  And  lastlv.  as  if  to  reward  our 


. 


••  AD.MIIJIM;  TIIK  VIKW." 

cheerful  patience,  the  wind  sank,  and  ill  the  clear  west,  in 
the  midst  of  a  brilliant  after-sunset  light,  sat  tlje  crescent 
moon. 

"We  must  go  out  again  and  have  another  row!" — and 
so  we  bad,  until  twilight  melted  into  dark. 

|  I'll     111      enMIMKn.] 


OCTOBER  SO,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  St  ITI.HMEXT. 


821 


BOBBY. 

BY  MATTHEW  WHITE,  JUNT. 

IT  was  during  one  of  the  vacations  at  our  school  that  my 
aunt  Maria  invited  me  tn  come  and  spend  a  few  days 
willi  her  in  New  York. 

Siie  hadn't  seen  me  since  tliey  had  stopped  calling  me 
"  Ki-ankie,"  and  I  felt  quite  proud  of  her  recollecting  that 
I  must  now  1)0  big  enough  to  go  about  by  myself. 

Ami  my!  but  wasn't  the  house  a  grand  one!  There 
were  aci  ually  so  many  pictures  that  some  of  them  had  to 
be  left  standing  on  the  Moor,  besides  marble  busts  and 
statues  starinir  at  you  out  of  corners  like  ghoM>.  and  an\ 
qua n til  v  of  old  china  scattered  around  that  I  "ncle  I  Jo  In  1 1 
seemed  awfully  afraid  I'd  break,  just  as  if  each  piece 
was  a  plate  glass  window. 

But  I  tell  you  I  was  careful;  never  sat  down  in  tin- 
parlor  without  lirst  turning  my  head  slowly  around 
to  look  on  all  sides  of  me.  as  though  I  was  trying  to 
ca-t  a  spell  over  the  furniture.  Then  at  the  table  I 
always  held  my  cup  with  both  bands,  which  1  know 
was  not  a  bit  elegant,  but  which  made'  me  feel  more 
eas\  in  my  mind. 

Bobby,  who  was  not  quite  three  years  old.  was  the 
only  child,  and  it  was  a  \\onder  to  me  that  the  boy 
hadn't  died  months  before  from  overpett  iuj'  Kittens 
will,  you  know,  if  you  maul  them  too  much.  But  Bob- 
b,  had  managed  to  grow  fat  on  it  somehow,  and  such 
a  chunky,  noisy,  lingers  in  e\  cry  I  lung  youngster  1 
never  saw. 

\Yli'-n  I  uas  taken  up  to  the  nursery  to  be  intro- 
duced to  him  the  first  night,  1  thought  it  was  awfully 
cute  the  way  lie  put  his  arms  around  my  neck  to  hug 
me,  but  when  I  found  that  he  had  pulled  out  at  the 
same  time  the  tirst  cravat  pin  I  bad  ever  owned,  and 
was  sacking  on  the  coral  owl  as  if  it  had  been  a  lump 
of  tatl'y,  I  changed  my  opinion.  After  that  I  never 
dared  wear  my  watch  until  after  Bobby's  bed  time,  a  ml 
as  for  my  hair — well,  as  I  couldn't  take  that  oil'  too 
and  keep  it  in  the  bureau  drawer  till  evening.  I  bad  to 
grow  used  to  having  my  head  look  like  a  tie  Id  of  ball  le 
all  day  long. 

If  I'd  been  at  home  1  might  Lave  been  mean  enough 
to  have  "  struck'  back"  at  a  fellow  under  my  si/.e,  but 
as  Aunt  Maria  and  I'ncle  Kobcrt  both  kept  talking 
about  the  great  fancy  Bobby  M  laken  to  me,  and  say- 
ing bow  nice  I  was  with  children.  I  hated  to  spoil  the 
seemingly  peaceful  state  of  a  Hairs. 

Now  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  Bobby  Waterman  was 
a  dreadfully  wicked  child,  and  likely  to  come  to  some 
bad  end  ;  only  he  was  just  bubbling  over  with  mischief, 
and  I  suppose  I  acted  as  a  sort  of  lightning-rod  to  car- 
ry it  oil'. 

But  if  Uncle*Robert  was  easy  with  his  small  son  iu 
everything  else,  there  was  one  point  on  which  he  was 
very  strict,  and  that  was  about  allowing  Bobby  in  the 
parlor  among  his  china.      Nora,  the  nurse,  had  her  orders 
on  the  subject,  and  Bobby  himself  was  told  nearly  every 
day  that  he  was  never  to  go  in  the  room  unless  his  papa  or 
mamma  were  with  him.      The  little  fellow  replied,  "Ees, 
ees,"but  whether  he  understood  what  he  was  promising 
or  not,  it  is  certain  that  I  regarded  the  parlor  as  a  kind 
of  oasis  in  the  desert  of  romps.     Whenever  every  hair  in 
my  head  ached,  and  my  arms  hung  limp  from  overwork 
as  pump-handles,  a  happy  thought  would  send  me  bound- 
ing oil'  down-stairs  to  the  region  of  art  and  rugs,  where  I 
was  sure  of  a  breathing-spell. 

\Vell,  my  visit  was  nearly  over,  when  one  evening 
Uncle  Robert  came  home  from  his  office  and  announced 
that  at  last  he  had  succeeded  in  arranging  for  "a  day  off," 
and  that  therefore,  if  it  was  clear  on  the  morrow,  he  would 
like  to  take  Aunt  Maria  and  "run  up"  to  see  his  mother. 
Now,  as  old  Mrs.  Waterman  lived  in  a  small  town  about 


two  hours'  ride  from  New  York,  the  "run  up"  and  back 
again,  with  time  for  dinner  at  the  "old  home,"  would  re- 
quire almost  a  full  day. 

"So  we'd  better  not  take  Bobby,"  decided  his  mother. 
"  He'll  get  so  tired,  and  I  know  Frank  here  will  consider 
it  a  great  honor  to  be-  left  in  charge." 

(hi  hearing  this,  "Frank  here"  wished  himself  any- 
where else,  but  being  .1  guest  and  a  boy,  I  could  not  very 
well  announce  in  \  own  wishes  in  the  matter.  It  was  there- 
fore arranged  that  the  next  day  should  be  a  grand  holiday 
for  the  "big  folks,"  for  it  was  the  cook's  afternoon  out, 
and  as  a  special  favor  Bridget,  the  house-maid,  was  also< 
given  leave  of  absence. 

"  It's  so  seldom  the  I  u  o  have  a  chalice  to  go  Out  togeth- 


IF   YOU   ONLY    KNEW.'    I   BEGAN." 


er,"said  Aunt  Maria,  in  explanation  of  her  relaxed  disci- 
pline. "And  as  your  mother,  you  know,  Robert,  always 
has  dinner  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  I've  given  orders  to 
have  a  dish  or  two  added  to  the  children's  lunch,  so  there'll 
only  be  a  light  tea  to  get  for  us  at  seven." 

The  carrying  out  of  this  plan  would  of  course  result  in 
my  losing  a  dinner,  but  as  nobody  seemed  to  think  of  that, 
I  resolved  not  to  appear  greedy  by  offering  any  hints  on 
the  subject. 

The  next  day  icas  clear,  and  my  uncle  and  aunt  set  out 
on  their  trip  about  nine,  leaving  me  completely  at  the 
mercy  of  my  small  cousin,  while  the  servants  sat  half  the 
morning  over  their  breakfast. 

And  didn't  Bobby  have  a  good  time,  though !  I  hated 
to  refuse  him  anything  for  fear  he  might  set  up  a  howl  for 
"Mam — ma!"  and  keep  on  until  we  had  telegraphed  f oi- 
lier; so  I  became  in  quick  succession  a  dancing  bear  with 


822 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


VOLUME  IV. 


the  buffalo-robe  over  my  shoulders,  a  chattering  monkey 
with  Aunt  Maria's  riding-whip  trailing  out  of  my  pocket 
for  a  tail,  a  braying  donkey  with  Bobby  for  a  rider,  and 
a  half -smothered  "  elephant"  with  an  enormous  quilt  on 
top  of  me  to  make  me  "look  big." 

This  series  of  transformations,  with  several  tussles, 
romps,  and  feats  of  hair-pulling  thrown  in,  brought  us  to 
li.ncli-time,  at  which  meal  I  was  only  able  to  snatch  a 
mouthful  now  and  then,  011  account  of  the  watch  I  had 
1o  keep  over  Bobby,  who  insisted  on  making  a  "choo- 
choo  car"  of  his  tray,  by  sliding  it  half  off  the  table,  every 
chance  he  got. 

"I  know  what  I'll  do  this  afternoon,''  I  reflected,  as  I 
hastily  swallowed  some  fancy  cakes  while  "that  child" 
was  having  his  face  and  hands  washed;  "I'll  take  him 
for  a.  long  walk,  for  I'd  rather  (ramp  twenty  blocks  on 
two  legs  than  go  the  length  of  the  room  on  four." 

Indeed,  from  constant  rampaging  as  a  wild  beast,  the 
knees  of  my  second-best  trousers  were  now  worn  nearly 
through. 

^Yhell  I  proposed  the  Park  and  the  monkey-house  to 
Bobby  he  of  course  became  at  once  so  eager  to  start  that 
he  nearly  dragged  me  out  into  the  street  bare -headed. 
However,  we  got  off  in  a  state  of  decency  at  last.  We 
spent,  about  two  hours  in  the  Park,  and  (hen,  after  we  had 
faithfully  stared  at  every  cage  in  the  menagerie,  turned 
our  faces  homeward  about  half-past  three. 

"  And  now,  young  man,"  I  thought,  "I  guess  you'll  he 
lireu  enough,  when  we  get  back,  to  take  a  nap,  and  give 
me  a  chance  to  finish  Jack  Hazard  before  I  go  away." 

Indeed,  oil  the  last  few  blocks  Bobby  had  dragged  his 
feet  along  in  such  a  shuffling  fashion  that  I  felt  sure  he 
was  thoroughly  tired  out  and  sleepy.  So  when  Nora, 
who  had  been  watching  for  us  with  her  bonnet  on,  came 
rushing  down  the  steps  to  beg  that  she  might  be  allowed 
to  run  over  to  Eleventh  Avenue  and  see  her  brother,  who 
had  just  been  taken  with  another  of  his  "tirrible  turrns." 
I  said  yes  at  once,  confident  that  my  cousin  was  too  sleepy 
to  bother  me  for  at  least  an  hour  to  come.  Besides,  was 
not  this  to  be  a  "big  folks'  holiday"  ? 

While  listening  to  Nora  I  had  let  go  of  Bobby's  hand, 
as  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  in  the  house,  and  was 
slowly  going  up  the  steps  behind  him.  When  I  saw  that 
he  had  safely  reached  the  top,  I  stood  for  about  a  second 
watching  the  nurse  scudding  off  toward  Eleventh  Avenue, 
like  a  ship  under  full  sail  in  a  high  wind.  Then  I  turned 
to  hurry  in  after  Bobby,  when  bang  came  the  front  door 
in  my  face,  with  that  baby  on  the  other  side  of  it! 

Befoi-e  I  had  time  to  decide  whether  the  child  was  tall 
enough  to  reach  up  to  the  spring-lock  to  open  it  again, 
I  heard  somebody  rapping  on  a  window,  and  stepping 
back,  I  had  the  horror  of  beholding  Bobby  in  the  parlor 
laughing  out  at  me  in  the  most  tantalizing  manner.  In 
vain  I  shook  my  fist,  shouted  promises  of  "goodies,"  threats 
of  telling  "papa,"  and  orders  to  try  and  reach  the  spring 
knob  by  standing  on  a  stool. 

Either  he  could  not  hear  me,  did  not  understand^  or  was 
simply  obstinate — which  latter  I  think  is  the  most  likeh  . 
There  he  stood  in  that  sacred  drawing-room,  trampling 
the  lace  curtains  under  his  feet,  soiling  the  plate-glass  with 
his  sticky  fingers,  and  threatening  with  every  movement 
to  topple  one  of  Uncle  Robert's  favorite  busts  on  his  head. 

In  my  desperation  I  had  pulled  the  door-bell  wildly, 
until  I  recollected  that  both  the  girls  were  out.  Nora  was 
already  half  a  block  away ;  but  even  if  I  could  have  called 
her  back,  how  could  she  have  mended  matters  ? 

What  should  I  do  ?  Cold  chills  ran  all  over  me  as  I 
(bought  of  the  matches  Bobby  might  strike,  with  not  a 
soul  (o  blow  them  out  again ;  of  the  four  pairs  of  stairs  lie 
might  tumble  down,  with  nobody  to  pick  him  up  and  rub 
him  with  arnica  at  the  bottom  of  them;  and  there  was 
his  father's  cherished  china! 

"Oh,  Bobby!  Bobby!"  I  cried,  despairingly,  "do  try 


and  open  the  door  for  me."  Then,  overcome  with  terror 
at  what  might  happen  to  him  out  of  my  sight,  I  shouted, 
in  contradiction  of  myself,  "Oh,  no!  no!  Stay  right 
there  where  I  can  see  you." 

By  this  time,  as  might  have  been  expected,  quite  a 
crowd  had  collected  around  me. 

"  Why  don't  you  shinny  up  the  basement  bars,  an'  git 
in  by  the  winder.'"  suggested  a  boy  with  a  red  oyster-box 
under  his  arm. 

"But  the  parlor  windows  have  patent  burglar- proof 
locks  on  them,"  I  returned,  dejectedly. 

"Smash  in  (he  glass,  then, "went  on  the  boy,  laying 
down  his  tray,  as  if  eager  to  do  the  smashing  himself. 

But  fear  of  Uncle  Robert's  displeasure  would  not  per- 
mit me  to  think  of  such  desperate  measures. 

Then  a  policeman  came  up  and  wanted  to  know  what 
all  the  fuss  was  about. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  he  muttered,  when  I  tried  to  explain; 
"  the  boy's  safe  in-doors,  so  where's  the  harm  ?  Can't  you 
go  off  somewheres  and  make  a  call  till  your  uncle  comes 
back  with  his  key?" 

"  But  if  you  only  knew,"  I  began,  and  then  stopped,  for 
how  could  I  tell  a  strange  policeman  what  an  awful  child 
my  own  cousin,  was?  Besides,  as  I  wasn't  willing  to  have 
anything  broken  lo  get  at  him.  what  good  would  it  do  ? 

All  this  while  Bobby  stood  leaning  against  the  broad 
pane,  watching  the  crowd  on  the  sidewalk  with  the  great- 
est delight.  Bat  now  the  officer  ordered  the  people  to 
"  move  011,"  and  in  live  minutes  I  was  left  alone  again, 
my  eyes  fixed  011  that  small  boy  in  the  window. 

As  there  was  nobody  just  (hen  to  look  at  except  his  half- 
distracted  cousin,  Bobby  presently,  to  my  horror,  turned 
away  and  disappeared.  AVhere  had  he  gone  ?  What  was 
he  doing?  I  stood  there  with  my  back  against  a  lamp- 
poM.  almost  fainting-  from  fear,  when  suddenly  there  came 
a  clanging  of  bells  down  the  street.  The  next  minute  a 
hose-cart  and  a  hook-and-ladder  truck  drew  up  in  front  of 
the  house,  while  the  engine  could  be  heard  puffing  away 
by  the  lire-plug-  at  the  corner. 

Then  as  I  saw  the  firemen  rushing  up  the  stoop,  and  at 
the  same  moment  caught  a  glimpse  of  Bobby  smiling 
down  at  the  "  fun"  from  the  sitting-room  window,  the 
meaning  of  it  all  flashed  over  me. 

He  had  climbed  up  on  a  chair  and  rung  the  electric 
alarm  over  the  mantel-piece! 

"Oh,  it's  all  a  mistake!"  I  cried,  dashing  up  the  stoop, 
in  terror  lest  the  windows  should  be  smashed  in  after  all. 
"  There  isn't  any  fire,"  I  was  going  to  add,  when  a  bright 
idea  came  to  me,  and  reflecting  that  there  might  be  a  blaze 
very  soon  if  Bobby  got  hold  of  the  match  box,  I  pointed 
to  his  head  in  the  window  and  called  for  a  ladder. 

Whether  (he  men  thought  the  house  was  really  burning 
up  inside  or  not  I  don't  know,  but  a  ladder  was  quickly 
snatched  from  the  truck  and  placed  in  position. 

"  Here,  we  can't  let  you  climb  up,"  cried  somebody,  as 
I  sprang  forward  (o  plant  my  foot  on  (he  lower  round. 

And  just  then  there  went  up  a  piercing  scream  of  "  Oh, 
Bobby,  my  child  !"  and  I  turned  to  see  Aunt  Maria  and 
Uncle  Robert  fighting  their  way  through  the  crowd. 

Of  course  I  had  to  talk  pretty  fast  to  explain  things, 
and  get  my  uncle  to  open  the  door  as  soon  as  possible, 
with  Aunt  Maria  looking  straight  at  me  as  white  as  one 
of  the  marble  busts  in  the  parlor. 

But  we  soon  calmed  down  after  we  had  got  the  firemen 
and  their  traps  out  of  the  street,  and  found  Bobby  without  a 
scratch  on  him,  and  not  a  piece  of  china  so  much  as  cracked. 

'  And  now  tell  me  how  you  happened  to  come  back  by 
such  an  early  train  :"  I  asked  ;  to  which  Aunt  Man:, 
plied  by  saying  that  she  had  felt  so  worried,  anil  linally 
she  had  become  sure  (hat  Bobby  had  bitten  through  one  of 
t  he  i  hin  glass  tumblers  at  lunch  and  swallowed  the  pieces. 

I  went  home  the  next  morning,  and  I  don't  want  to  visit 
the  Watermaiis  again  until  Bobby's  grown  into  long  pants. 


OCTOBER  an,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


823 


PEEK-A-BOO! 

BY  ELLA  WHEELER. 

PI^IIK  euiiniujrcst  thing  that  a  baby  can  do 

J_    Is  tn  play  for  the  very  first  time,  Pcek-a-boo! 

It  will  hiilr  its  little  pink  face  in  its  hands, 
Then  crow,  and  show  that  it  understands 

What   Xnrse  and  Mamma,  and  Papa  too, 
Mean   win  n   they  hide  and  cry,  "Pcek-a-boo!" 

Oh.  what   a   wonderful  thing  it    N. 

When  they  lind  that  baby  can  play  like  this! 

And   they  every  one  listen,  and  think  it  true 
That  (lie   baby's  u'liride  means    Peek-a-boo! 

I  wonder  it'  any  one  ever  knew 

A  baby   who   never  played   Pcek-a-boo V 

Tis  old  as  the  world  is.      I   believe 
(.'am  was  taught  it  by  Mother  KM-. 

Km-  <  ain   was  an  innocent  babe  onre.  loo, 
And   I   am  sure  he  played    IVek-a-boo. 

And  the  whole  world  full  of  the  children  ol    in<  n 
Have  all  of  them  played  thai,  garni-  since  llieri. 

And   while  Ihe  sun  shines  and  the  skie-  ;ire  blue. 
Babies  will  always  play   Peek-a-boo. 


THE  SEALS   IX   Til  KM;   I  In. ME. 

BY  AKTIirK  UNIisl.KY. 

IMPUDENCE  personified."  Tliat.  is  ;i  capital  lillc  for 
the  picture  CMI  Ihc  next  page,  and  yd  we  shall  then 
he  naming  it.  from  the  twn  youngi-st  and  least  important 
memhers  of  Ihc  group.  But  just  look  at  that  pup  seal 
mid  the  young  gull  (hat  is  talking  1o  liim  in  earnest  I 
I>id  you  ever  sec  the  like  of  them  >  I  have,  and  only  a 
few  minutes  ago.  too.  I  must  tell  you  how  it  was. 

Right  outside  my  window  here,  on  the  gr;e~-.  was  a  line 
young  Newfoundland  dog.  Susan  had  brought  out  his 
dinner  to  him,  and  it  took  him  hut  a  little  while  to  very 
nearly  clear  the  plate.  But.  there  was  more  than  lie  n-.-iI 
ly  wanted,  and  when  at  last  he  had  finished  there  still  re- 
mained a  piece  of  bread  and  about  half  a  potato. 

While  lie  had  been  so  busy,  a  threat  long-legged  chicken 
had  been  a  deeply  interested  looker-on.  He  had  come 
gradually  nearer  and  nearer,  hoping  evidently  that  some- 
thing might  be  left  for  him.  Pedro,  while  he  was  eat  MIL-' 
so  busily,  had  paid  no  attention  to  the  chicken.  Finally 
he  stepped  around  a  little  to  the  side,  and  came  still  closer. 
But  just  a,s  he  was  about  to  reach  out  his  long  neck  toward 
the  plate,  Pedro  stood  up  with  a  wag  of  his  tail  and  a 
laugh  in  his  eye  that  showed  he  was  ready  for  fun.  The 
chicken  stood  a  moment,  and  then  thought  he  would  see 
what  impudence  would  do.  He  tried  to  push  past  the  pup- 
py. This  was  too  much  for  Pedro's  dignity,  and  with  a 
short,  sharp  bark  he  bounced  at  him,  and  fairly  knocked 
him  over.  Then,  delighted  with  the  joke  and  his  own 
success,  he  rolled  on  the  grass,  I  verily  believe  to  laugh. 

But,  alas!  his  laughing-  was  short,  for  the  chicken  was 
up  011  the  instant,  made  a  dash  at  the  plate,  seized  the 
piece  of  potato,  and  started  oil  the  run  witli  his  ill-gotten 
goods,  and  Pedro  after  him,  hot  foot.  The  Shanghai's 
legs  were  long,  but  the  puppy  was  too  quick  for  him. 

In  a  second  or  two  they  were  up,  and  there  they  stood, 
just  as  you  see.  the  seal  and  the  gull — mouths  wide  open, 
eyes  snapping.  The  dignity  and  the  impudence  were  com- 
ical beyond  description.  Neither  said  a  word  for  at  least 
a  minute.  Then  Pedro  stooped  down  and  secured  the  po- 
tato, which  he  swallowed  on  the  instant.  The  discomli'ed 
chicken  smoothed  his  feathers  and  walked  gravely  away, 
eating  the  piece  of  bread  he  had  not  cared  to  touch  be- 
fore, while  Pedro  speedily  polished  the  plate. 

But  what  do  you  suppose  the  seal  and  the  gull  are 
quarrelling  about  ?  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell.  I  imagine 
it  is  only  because  they  have  happened  to  meet,  and  neither 


one  will  give  way  for  the  other;  each  one  thinks  the  right 
of  way  is  his.  I  have  seen  them  do  it  time  and  time 
again.  There  they  would  stand,  and  scold  away  at  a 
great  rate,  until  finally  one  grew  tired  of  it  and  moved  off. 
Funny  fellows  these  pup  seals  are;  queer  little  mortals. 
I  have  sat  and  watched  them  hours  at  a  time,  interest- 
ed beyond  measure  in  their  curious  ways.  Clumsy  and 
heavy  while  on  the  laud  they  are  without  question,  for 
they  do  not  belong  properly  to  the  land:  the  water  is  the 
place  for  them  to  enjoy  freedom  of  motion.  And  yet  they 
are  born  on  the  land,  and  when  they  enter  the  water  for 
the  first  time  they  move  just  as  clumsily  there. 

I  well  remember  seeing  the  thing  done.  I  was  on  a 
ledge  of  rock  about  ten  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
Eight  or  ten  of  the  baby  seals  were  lying  scattered  about, 
but  their  mothers  had  scuttled  off  into  the  water  on  my 
approach.  I  stooped  down  at  once  to  examine  the  one 
nearest  me.  He  was  only  an  hour  or  two  old,  and  evi- 
dently had  not  yet  been  into  the  water. 

He  did  not  appear  to  be  afraid  of  me,  but  allowed  me  to 
take  up  his  flippers  and  examine  them  at  my  leisure,  and 
when  I  smoothed  his  back  down  as  I  would  that  of  a  eat. 
he  seemed  quite  to  enjoy  the  operation,  and  was  inclined 
to  go  to  sleep  under  it.  But  after  a  time  I  undertook  to 
open  his  mouth  that  I  might  see  his  teeth.  This  he  evi- 
deiiiU  thought  was  a  piece  of  impertinence  oil  my  part; 
he  did  not  like  it.  and  began  to  scramble  away  from  me. 
I  tried  i<>  quiet  him,  but  he  continued  to  flounder  along 
until  he  reached  I  he  edge  of  the  rock. 

But  the  sea  did  not  strike  the  foot  of  the  cliff  there. 
There  was  a  fall  of  nearly  ten  feet  from  the  spot  where  the 
pup  lay.  with  a  solid  granite  ledge  to  strike  at  the  bottom. 
I  saw  that  he  was  about  to  throw  himself  off,  and  feeling 
sure  that  the  shock  must  injure  him  dreadfully,  if  it  did 
not  kill  him  at  once,  I  shouted  out  to  him:  "Hold  oil 
i  here,  old  fellow-!  What  are  you  about  '1  That  jump  will 
kill  you,  sure  as  you  are  alive.'' 

But  either  he  did  not  understand   English,  or  he  was 
too  self-willed   to  take  advice — both,  maybe — for  off  he 
went,  and   I   heard    him    strike   the    rock   below  with   a 
1  thud  that  was  fearful.     I  ran  up  to  the  brink  and  looked 
over,  fully  expecting  to  see  him  either  stunned  or  dead. 
But  not  a  bit  of  it:  there  he  lay  as  easy  and  comfortable 
as  though  he  had  barely  turned  over  'in  bed.      He  wait- 
ed a  minute  or  two,  and  then  he  flopped  off  into  the  sea. 
But    when   he  attempted  to  swim   it  was  amusing  to 
see    his    clumsy    and    ungainly    movements.       He    first 
gave  two  or  three  bounds  forward,  like  his  floundering 
jumps  on   the   rock,  and  then   he   stopped,  not   seeming 
to  know  what  next  to  do.      But  he  had  110  need  to  wait,  for, 
like  a  flash,  an  instructor  was  at  his  side.     The  crowd 
of  old  seals  was  grouped  about  twenty  yards  away,  and 
I  one  of  them  had  shot  out  toward  him  at  the  moment  that 
[  he  struck  the  water.     It  was  no  doubt  his  mother,  and 
the  grand,  mighty  swing  with  which  she  swept  her  way 
carried  her  over  the  twenty  yards  while  his  jumps  took 
him  along  three  feet. 

What  she  said  to  him  I  do  not  know,  but  he  kept  close 
at  her  side,  apparently  imitating  her  movements.  Every 
sweep  grew  less  clumsy,  and  he  had  not  been  in  the  water 
three  minutes  before  he  was  ready  to  quit  his  mother's  side 
and  start  off  oil  a  dash  of  his  own  right  out  to  sea.  She 
watched  him  as  he  glided  so  swiftly  along,  and  then  I  heard 
her  call  out  something  to  him.  It  sounded  like  a  simple 
bleating  cry,  but  it  probably  meant,  "All  right,  my  boy; 
go  ahead  :  I  will  trust  you  now;''  for  she  seemed  to  think 
110  more  about  him.  She  joined  the  crowd  of  dancing 
mothers,  and  left  him  to  himself. 

His  leaping  off  and  striking  the  rock  below  without 
injury  astonished  me  when  I  saw  it,  but  I  presently  found 
that  it  was  only  a  common  thing  with  them.  They  climb 
up  from  the  water,  even  where  the  face  of  the  rocks  is 
almost  perpendicular.  Their  soft  flippers,  or  paws,  cling 


824 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT 


VOLUME  IV. 


••  IMPl'DENCE    PERSONIFIED.'' 


to  the  rock  like  suckers.  They  double  up  their  body  and 
make  the  hind-flippers  fast  as  far  forward  as  possible,  and 
then,  straightening  out,  they  hook  011  with  the  fore-flippers 
a  way  above,  and  on  they  go.  I  have  often  seen  them  lying 
on  k-dges  150  to  200  feet  above  the  sea,  which  they  had 
reached  in  that  manner. 

But  when  they  wish  to  descend  they  do  it  in  a  different 
u  ay.  They  creep  down  in  part  by  means  of  their  flippers, 
but  whenever  there  is  opportunity  they  leap  off  and  strike 
many  feet  below,  often  with  really  frightful  violence. 
These  spotted  seals  shown  in  the  picture  are  little  fellows, 
seldom  exceeding  five  feet  in  length,  but  the  great  sea-lions 
of  the  Pacific  grow  to  be  from  thirteen  to  fifteen  feet  long, 
and  weigh  sometimes  1600  pounds.  A  lofty  leap  by  one  of 
these  great  heavy  animals  is  a  grand  sight.  The  first  time 
that  I  ever  saw  it  was  on  the  South  Farallou.  the  main  one 
of  the  group  of  rock-islands  west  of  the  bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

The  sea  lions  were  all  about  me  as  thick  as  cattle  in  a 
farm-yard,  and  not  a  bit  more  timid.  Presently  an  old 
bull  crept  slowly  down  the  face  of  the  rocks  near  me.  At 
length  he  reached  a  spot  where  there  was  a  perpendicular 
cliff  under  him,  just  thirteen  feet  high,  for  I  measured  it 
u  few  minutes  later.  He  looked  about  a  second  or  two, 
and  then  sprang  boldly  out  into  the  air,  and  struck  the 
rock  on  which  I  stood,  bounding  up  from  the  blow  pre- 
cisely as  a  ball  bounds.  The  concussion  of  three-quarters 
of  a  ton,  falling  from  a  height  of  thirteen  feet,  was  fright- 
ful, but  he  was  not  in  the  slightest  disturbed  by  it.  His 
next  lea]>  was  out  into  the  sea,  and  he  at  once  slid  away 
with  a  swinging  wave  and  a  majestic  power  that  seemed 
to  prove  him  the  father  and  prince  of  all  propellers. 

On  all  the  rocks  frequented  by  the  various  species  of 
seals  birds  are  also  abundant,  gulls,  murres,  cormorants, 
puffins,  etc..  and  as  the  young  birds  are  hatched  about  the 


time  that  the  young  seals  are  born,  you  may  constantly 
see  them  together,  and  may  witness  the  comical  scene  of 
our  two  friends  here  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture 
over  and  over  again.  The  seal  never  injures  the  bird, 
though  he  is  so  much  the  larger  and  stronger.  He  often 
bites  at  him,  and  gets  bitten  on  the  nose  himself  for  Ins 
pains,  but  he  only  scolds  the  harder  for  a  while,  and  then 
they  both  get  tired  of  it  and  move  away. 


MOLLY. 


liY    ELIOT   ^I 

IT  was  noon  in  (  lakridge.  and  only  Molly  Grant,  with 
Jane  Young,  Nellie  Phillips,  and  Willie  Clarke,  occu- 
pied the  old  red  school-house.  The  teacher  and  all  the 
other  children  had  gone  off  to  their  homes,  just  across  the 
railroad,  to  dinner;  but  Molly  and  her  companions,  who 
were  younger  than  herself,  lived  at  Willowvale,  a  mile 
away,  and  found  it  more  convenient  to  bring  the  meal 
with  them  and  eat  it  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  trees 
by  which  the  school  was  surrounded. 

Directly  behind  the  school-house  rose  the  mountain. 
In  front  of  it,  occupying  a  shelf  along  the  mountain-side. 
ran  the  turnpike;  while  down  in  the  valley  below  wound 
the  railroad  leading  from  the  oil  region  to  New  York. 
About  a  thousand  feet  away  from  the  school,  on  each  side, 
the  railroad  curved  toward  the  mountain  and  crossed  the 
turnpike,  so  that  no  one  could  get  to  the  school  from  ei- 
ther direction  without  going  over  the  track.  Everybody 
said  that  it  was  a  bad  place  for  a  school-house,  but  no  one 
proposed  moving  it.  It  had  been  there,  indeed,  before  the 
railroad  was  built;  and  Mr.  John  Graves,  who  was  chair- 
man of  the  School  Committee,  argued  that,  being  there 
first,  it  had  the  best  right  to  the  place,  and  if  anything 


OCTOBER  30,  1883. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


825 


"•YES,1  SHE    SAID.    'LET    US    RUN    FOR    IT.1" 


S26 


HAEPEE'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


VOLUME  IV. 


was  moved,  it  ought  to  be  the  railroad.  So  it  stood,  year 
after  year,  while  the  Oakridge  children  ran  a  daily  risk  of 
being  crushed  liy  the  passing  trains.  Between  the  school- 
house  and  the  track  stretched  a  piece  of  woods,  while  be- 
hind and  above  the  house  a  dense  growth  of  birch,  hick- 
ory, and  oak  covered  the  mountain  to  its  top.  Half-way 
up,  A  little  clearing  disclosed  the  entrance  to  a,  deserted 
iron  mine,  from  which  a  rough  cart  track  wound  down 
the  hill  to  the  turnpike  a  little  way  from  the  school. 

•'It's  awfully  hot,"  Jane  had  just  exclaimed,  taking  a 
bite  of  sandwich,  and  fanning  herself  with  a  mullein  leaf 
at  the  same  time. 

"  So  it  is,"  Nellie  assented.  "  I'm  glad  we  don't  have 
to  walk  home  to  dinner." 

Molly  did  not  speak.  Her  quick  ear  had  caught  the 
sound  of  three  warning  whistles  from  up  the  railroad,  and 
she  was  wondering  what  it  might  mean.  Presently  they 
sounded  again,  though  the  last  one  was  drowned  by  the 
noise  of  an  explosion,  as  though  a  cannon  had  gone  off. 
What  had  happened?  The  girls  checked  their  talk,  and 
looked  curiously  at  one  another. 

"What  is  it,  Molly  ?"  Jane  asked. 

Molly  shook  her  head  and  listened.  In  a  moment  there 
was  another  deafening  report,  while  the  noise  of  the  ap- 
proaching cars  was  all  the  time  becoming  more  distinct. 
Very  soon,  looking  down  through  the  undergrowth,  Mol- 
ly could  see  the  locomotive  turning  the  curve.  Behind 
it  rushed  what  seemed  to  be  a  train  of  fire,  pouring  out 
volumes  of  smoke,  and  spilling  liquid  flames  at  every  turn 
of  the  wheels. 

"Oh,  Molly!"  the  girl  cried  again,  this  time  in  alarm, 
"do  you  know  what  it  is  :" 

Molly  drew  a  quick  breath.  "It's  an  oil  train,"  she 
exclaimed,  "on  fire." 

It  was  a  terrible  object.  By  this  time  two  of  the  great 
oil  tanks  at  the  rear  of  the  train  had  caught,  and  were 
sending  up  great  tongues  of  flame  toward  the  sky.  In 
their  wake  they  were  leaving  a  river  of  burning  oil,  set- 
ting fire  to  the  ties  and  sleepers,  and  carrying  the  flame 
also  to  the  telegraph  poles  and  fences  on  either  side  the 
track.  As  the  train  passed  the  school-house  there  was  an- 
other mighty  roar:  the  top  of  a  third  tank  blew  off.  and. 
crashing  through  the  trees  with  the  force  of  an  enormous 
cannon-ball,  landed  directly  behind  the  school-house.  At 
the  same  moment  a  volume  of  fire  poured  up  and  lit  the 
very  tops  of  the  overhanging  trees.  Before  the  children 
could  collect  their  terrified  thoughts  the  woods  skirting 
the  track  below  them  were  on  fire.  Molly  had  already 
sprung  to  her  feet. 

"We  must  run  away!"  she  cried.  "Don't  cry,  Willie 
dear.  Jane,  take  Nellie's  hand." 

They  dropped  their  lunch  and  books,  and  ran  out  upon 
the  road.  A  single  glance  showed  Molly  that  it  was  no 
use  going  toward  the  upper  crossing:  the  smoke  was 
rolling  up  more  and  more  densely  from  that  direction : 
the  woods  were  certainly  on  fire,  and  it  was  not  unlike- 
ly that  one  of  the  oil  cars  had  become  detached  from  the 
train,  and  was  burning  on  the  track  around  the  curve. 
This  had  already  happened  a  little  below  the  school- 
house.  The  train  had  gone  on,  but  the  rear  car  was 
dropped,  and  now  stood  still  oil  the  blazing  track,  puff- 
ing clouds  of  smoke  up  toward  the  road,  and  destroying 
itself  with  an  angry  roar. 

"Hurry  up!"  cried  Molly,  anxiously,  dragging  little 
Willie  by  the  hand  as  she  pushed  through  the  thickening 
haze.  Another  report  down  the  track  in  the  direction 
they  were  taking  made  them  pause  for  an  instant,  but 
Molly  urged  them  on. 

"We  mustn't  stop,"  she  cried:  "  in  another  minute  it 
may  be  too  late  !" 

The  frightened  children  quickened  their  steps,  and  soon 
came  to  a  spot  where  they  could  see  the  track  beyond  the 
turnpike  crossing.  Here  too  a  glance  was  enough.  The 


train  had  stopped  on  the  mountain  ledge,  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  ahead,  having  dropped  two  more  burning  cars, 
one  of  which  stood  just  where  the  road  crossed,  barring- 
travel  from  either  side.  It  was  the  noise  of  this  explosion 
that  they  had  just  heard,  and  now  the  liberated  gases  were 
flaming  up  in  the  air  higher  than  the  tallest  trees,  warn- 
ing them  not  to  approach  any  nearer. 

"  Oh,  Molly,"  the  little  boy  cried,  while  the  girls  looked 
on  with  pale  and  frightened  faces,  "we'll  all  be  burned 
up!  What  shall  we  do  '.  How  can  we  get  away  ?" 

Molly  herself  was  almost  as  much  frightened,  though, 
for  the  children's  sake,  she  did  not  dare  to  show  it. 
"Wait  a  minute,  dear,"  she  said,  softly,  "and  let  me 
think." 

Down  the  hill  toward  the  railroad,  not  so  far  away  now 
as  it  was  at  the  school-house,  she  could  see  the  fire  creep- 
ing up  through  the  dry  underbrush.  '  The  trees  were 
burning  from  the  top,  where  they  had  been  lighted  by  the 
gas,  and  from  the  bottom,  where  the  brush  had  set  lire  to 
the  roots  or  lower  branches.  Escape  in  this  direction  was 
already  cut  off,  and  it  would  not  be  long  before  the  ad- 
vancing flames  had  reached  the  place  where  they  now 
stood.  This  was  the  beginning  of  a  mountain  fire.  Be- 
fore the  next  morning  there  would  not  be  a  tree  left  in 
Oakridge.  What  would  have  become  of  them  '.  Willie's 
voice  interrupted  her  anxious  thoughts: 

' '  Molly !"  the  little  boy  screamed,  as  a  sense  of  their  peril 
seemed  to  dawn  upon  him.  "  you  mustn't  let  us  burn  up." 

She  drew  him  closer  to  her  side,  and  looked  helplessly 
from  the  approaching  flames  to  the  mountain  behind  her. 
Was  there  any  escape  there  ?  They  could  hardly  hope  to 
climb  its  steep  and  rugged  height  faster  than  the  fire  could 
follow  them;  and  even  if  they  should  reach  the  top,  how 
much  better  would  it  be  ? 

"I  don't  know,  dear."  she  faltered,  her  voice  breaking, 
and  the  tears  coining-  in  her  eyes,  "  what  to  do." 

The  other  girls  began  to  cry. 

"  ( )h,  Molly  !"  Nellie  sobbed.  "  won't  you  do  something  ! 
What  will  mamma  say  if  we  never  come  home  again? 
Oh !"  she  screamed,  as  a  burning  cinder  fell  at  their  feet. 
"  We  must  go  somewhere,  Molly !  Icaii'tdie!  I  can't  be 
burned  up!" 

She  started  to  run  down  the  road,  when  Molly  caught 
hold  of  her  arm. 

"You'll  surely  be  burned  up,  Nellie,"  she  cried,  "  if  you 
go  that  way.  Don't  you  see  the  flames  are  already  across 
the  road  .'" 

"But  we  can't  stand  here,"  cried  the  child.  "Tell  us 
where  we  can  go,  Mol  I  \ . " 

Molly  looked  around  in  despair.  As  she  glanced  again 
up  the  mountain  she  caught  sight  of  a  projecting  shelf  of 
rock  and  a  black  hole  gaping  in  its  side.  ' '  Ah !"  she  cried, 
as  a  sudden  thought  leaped  into  her  head,  "the  mine, 
Nellie!  the  mine !" 

The  little  girls  were  quick  to  catch  her  idea,  and,  follow- 
ing her  as  she  pulled  Willie  over  the  fence,  they  made 
their  way  as  best  they  could  up  the  hill.  At  the  start  it 
was  rough  and  steep,  but  a  few  steps  brought  them  to  the 
ca  rt  t  rack,  which,  though  it  was  overgrown,  made  the  ascent 
less  tiresome,  and  kept  them  from  losing  their  way.  How 
long  would  it  be,  though,  before  the  fire  followed  them,  or 
before  they  met  it  coming  from  the  opposite  direction? 
Already  puffs  of  smoke  blew  up  through  the  trees,  and  fall- 
ing cinders,  which  they  made  haste  to  stamp  out,  threaten- 
ed to  set  fire  to  the  underbrush  in  the  path.  The  speed,  too, 
at  which  they  were  going  would  in  a  little  while  tire  them 
out.  Already  Willie  was  quite  exhausted. 

"Oh,  Molly!"  he  panted.  "I  can't  walk  any  further." 

She  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked  round.  The  roar 
of  the  flames,  fanned  by  the  freshening  wind,  was  every 
moment  growing  louderand  coining  nearer.  "  You  must 
walk,  Willie,"  she  cried.  "See!  the  mine  is  just  up  there. 
It  u  on'i  be  far  to  go." 


OCTOBER  30,  1883. 


HAKPEIl'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


827 


But  the  little  fellow,  -worn  out  by  fatigue  and  fright, 
had  sunk  to  the  ground.  ''I'm  too  tired,"  he  moaned; 
"  I  can't  walk  a  bit  more." 

Molly  leaned  over  and  energetically  swung  him  up  on 
her  shoulder.  She  was  not  a  powerful  girl,  but  courage 
gave  her  strength.  "Molly  will  carry  vein."  sh 
"(inly  don't  be  frightened,  dear.  You're  not  afraid,  are 
you,  Xellie  !"  looking  clown  at  the  little  girl  who.  with  her 
hand  in  .lane's,  trudged  along  by  her  side. 

Nellie's  face  paled  as  through  the  forest  below  them 
flashed  a.  gleam  of  fire.  "I'm  not  as  afraid  as  1  \vas."she 
faltered:  "but,  oh,  Molly,  isn't  it  catching  up  with  us.' 
I  ladn'l  u  6  lieller  run  ;" 

There  were  tongues  of  (lame  creeping  along  the  ground 
not  \i-ry  far  behind  them,  and  the  cinders  fell  ar id  fast- 
er t  han  t  hey  could  stamp  them  out.  Molly  peered  up  the 
road  as  it.  wound  through  the  trees  ahead.  The  mine 
could  not  he  very  far  off.  but  the  lire  was  perilously  near. 

"Yes."  she  said,  "let  us  run  for  it.  Hold  me  tight 
around  the  neck,  Willie  deal',  .lane,  yon  and  Nellie  go  as 
fast  as  you  can.  Don't  wait  forme." 

In  Oakridge  that  afternoon  there  was  the1  deepest  dis- 
tress. Before  it  was  really  known  that  any  children 
were  left  in  the  school-house  the  burning  cars  had  blocked 
up  the  track,  and  it  was  impossible  to  go  to  then-  relief. 
The  smoke  from  the  oil,  and  from  the'  trees  as  the\  began 
to  burn,  veiled  not  only  the  school-house,  but  the  road. 
and  by  and  -by  shut  out  the  mountain  itself  from  view. 
When  the  fathers  of  the  children  came  up  from  Willow 
vale  it  was  with  difficulty  that  they  could  lie  kept  from 
entering  the  lire  t  heinselves. 

"It  won't  do  any  good,"  urged  the  committee  man 
John  (J  raves,  as  he  grasped  Mr.  (irant;  "you'd  never 
come  out  of  that  tire  alive  if  you  went  in  -  no  more'n 
you'd  come;  out  of  a  blast-furnace.  I  never  see  a  lire 
burn  up  so  sudden.  There  goes  the  school  house  now:" 
he  cried,  as  a  sudden  puff  of  wind  cleared  away  the 
smoke  and  showed  them  the  little  red  building  in  flames. 
"Guess  we  won't  build  it  there  again." 

Mr.  (irant  shuddered.  ""Where  could  they  have 
gons  '."  he  cried.  "  What  could  they  have  done  ?" 

The  men  looked  at  one  another,  but  no  one  spoke. 

"Well."  said  John  Graves,  at  length,  "  there's  just  one 
chance  for  them;  if  they've  taken  that  they  may  be  all 
right," 

"  What  is  that  ';"  asked  Mr.  Grant,  breathlessly. 

Graves  looked  up  the  mountain  as  though  he  would 
penetrate  the  cloud  that  hung  between.  "  It's  the  old 
mine,"  he  said.  "If  your  girl  knew  about  that,  and 
they  got  up  there  in  time,  and  they  don't  suffocate,  and 
the  tire  burns  out  before  they  starve,  we  may  save  them 
yet." 

Mr.  Grant  put  his  hands  to  his  face.  "  Ah  !"  he  groan- 
ed, "you  don't  give  me  much  hope." 

For  a  moment  Graves  did  not  reply.  A  bank  of  clouds 
coming  up  from  the  northwest  had  caught  his  attention 
as  it  bad  that  of  most  of  the  men.  "  There's  going  to  be  a 
shower !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Most  likely  the  explosion  fetch- 
ed it.  That  makes  your  chance  so  much  the  better,  Mr. 
(irant.  The,  tire  '11  be  put  out  before  sundown,  and  if  they 
hold  out  till  then  you'll  find  them  sure." 

In  an  agony  of  suspense  Mr.  Grant  waited  through  that 
afternoon,  watching  the  fire  creep  up  the  mountain  until 
the  topmost  tree  had  caught.  Then  the  shower  began  to 
fall,  and  every  one  gazed  with  delight  while  the  torrents 
of  rain  fought  with  the  flames,  and  at  length  put  them 
out.  With  the  storm  came  a  gale  of  wind  that  blew  the 
smoke  out  of  every  crevice  in  the  mountain.  Long  be- 
fore it  stopped  raining,  the  search  party  started  out,  taking 
with  them  ropes,  clothes,  and  restoratives,  in  case  they 
should  find  the  children  injured  and  needing  immediate 
help.  As  they  toiled  up  the  mountain  the  rain  continued 


to  pour  down.  In  a  short  time  they  had  reached  the  clear- 
ing, and  the  mine  was  in  view.  What  would  the  next 
minute  disclose  .' 

Mr.  Grant  rushed  ahead,  and  bending  down,  entered  the 
narrow  opening  to  the  mine.  It  was  dark  and  smoky, 
and  for  the  moment  he  could  see  nothing.  Lighting  a 
match,  he  peered  down  the  gallery,  where  he  fancied  he 
discovered  a  figure  lying  on  the  ground.  With  a  heating- 
heart  he  pushed  on,  followed  by  the  other  men,  who  had 
by  this  time  lighted  a  torch.  Its  glare  illuminated  the 
passage,  and  showed  Mr.  Grant  not  merely  one  but  four 
motionless  forms.  Were  they  sleeping— or  dead  ''.  The 
foremost,  on  whosearm  re-. led  the  little  boy,  washisMolU. 
He  leaned  over,  and  placed  his  hand  on  her  forehead.  It 
was  warm,  and  at  the  touch  her  blue  eyes  opened  and  met 
hi-  own. 

"Papa!"  she  cried,  and  in  another  instant  was  in  his 
arms. 

"My  brave  little  girl!"  he  exclaimed,  hardly  able  to  say 
anything  at  all,  "are  you  hurt  .'" 

The  others,  by  this  time  waked  out  of  their  sleep,  had 
scrambled  to  their  feet,  and  were  gazing  ill  bewilderment 
at  their  own  fat  hers. 

Molly  smiled.  "  Ah,"  she  said,  softly,  "  I  thought  I  was 
hurt,  but  now  I  am  all  well  again." 


BITS  OF  ADVICE. 

BY    AfNT    MAHJORIE    PRECEPT. 

ABOUT  BEI.VIi  THE  CAPTAIN'. 

I  HEARD  a  droll  story  the  other  day  about  a  company 
of  little  fellows  who  were  formed  into  a  club  by  their 
teacher.  She  had  planned  a  great  many  delightful  things 
for  the  club  to  do.  They  were  to  go  on  excursions,  to 
play  base  ball,  to  have  regular  military  drills,  and  I  don't 
know  what  else  which  boys  take  pride  and  pleasure  in. 

But  all  the  fine  plans  came  to  nothing.  C'an  you  im- 
agine why  ?  When  they  met  to  organize  the  club  every 
boy  wanted  to  be  Captain.  Nobody  would  consent  to  be 
in  the  ranks,  and  as  all  could  not  command,  the  poor  lit- 
tle teacher  gave  up  in  despair. 

It  is  very  well  to  be  the  Captain,  boys,  but  Aunt  Marjo- 
rie  wants  you  to  remember  that  before  one  can  lead  one 
must  always  learn  to  obey  orders.  The  great  armies 
which  have  conquered  in  the  battles  of  the  world  have 
had  splendid  soldiers  to  command  them,  but  they  have 
also  had  columns  of  splendid  men,  who  were  glad  to  do 
just  as  they  were  told  without  the  least  delay,  and  without 
any  shirking  of  duty. 

A  person  who  wishes  to  be  Captain  must  learn,  in  the 
first  place,  to  control  himself.  YTou  know  what  the  Bible 
says  about  this,  do  you  not  '.  "  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is 
better  than  the  mighty,  and  lie  that  ruleth  his  spirit  than 
he  that  taketh  a  city."  "He  that  hath  no  rule  over  his 
own  spirit  is  like  a  city  that  is  broken  down  and  without 
walls.'1 

A  Captain  who  flies  into  a  rage  or  gets  into  a  fright 
whenever  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  will  never  be 
able  to  manage  his  forces.  Control  yourself,  and  then 
you  may  hope  to  govern  others. 

You  see  that  though  it  is  quite  simple,  yet  the  office  of 
leader  has  its  grave  cares.  Before  you  can  guide  yon 
must  know  how  to  follow,  and  before  you  rule  others  you 
must  have  yourself  in  hand. 

Then,  too,  you  must  learn  a  great  deal,  and  be  quick  to 
see  what  ought  to  be  done  and  prompt  in  ordering  it. 
"  King"  means  the  man  who  "can"  do  a  thing,  and  when 
a  boy  is  Rex  or  King  on  the  play -ground,  or  at  the  picnic, 
or  in  the  school-room,  you  may  make  up  your  mind  that, 
he  is  a  lad  who  can  do  some  things  better  than  his  coin 
rades,  and  of  whom  the  other  boys  are  proud. 


828 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


iv. 


NOTES  FOR  THE  YOUNG  HUNTER. 

BY  WILL  WOODMAN. 


]1._]IKC<>YS  AND  BLINDS. 

4   S  the  young  hunter  will  soon  learn,  there  are  all  kinds 
j.TL  of  ways  of  shooting  game,  and,  moreover,  all  kinds  of 


te 

*    -v?  ^P^.  ^ 

•^^sSt^ 


•• ' 
• 

4fW». 


game  to  shoot;   but  it  is  not  only 
how  to  shoot,  when  to  shoot,  and  O&-— 

what  to  shoot  that  is  needed  to  be  known. 
One  must  know  how  to  obtain  something 


One  of  the  most  common  means  employed 
Cor  drawing  game  is  what  is  called  a  "decoy.'' 
The  principle  of  the  decoy  is  very  simple,  and 
will  be  understood  at  once  by  any  boy  who  has 
ever  watched  chickens  hunting  for  food.     Should 
some  lucky  chick  wander  from  the  rest  and  discover 
a  choice  grub,  the  others  are  quick  to  notice  it,  and 
will  immediately  rush  to  share  it. 

So  with  snipe,  or  plovers,  or  ducks.      If  in 
flying  over  the  country  they  see  any  of  their 
fellows  engaged  in  feeding'  anywhere,  they 
naturally  want  to  share,  and  at  once  alight. 
It  is  a  knowledge  of  the  habits 
of  animals  that  always  makes 
a  good  hunter,  and  enables  him 
to  secure  game  where  anoth- 
er will  seek  in  vain.     Re- 
member that,  my  young 
hunter,  and  pay  every 
attention  to  the 
ways  of  the  an- 
imals you  wish 
to  shoot.  When 
you      wish      to  | 
shoot  snipe,  se-  [ 
lect    a    marshy 
spot,  and  scatter  your 
decoys  about  on  it  in 
a  way  to  resemble  as 
nearly  as  possible  a 
small  flock  of  real 
snipe      feeding. 
Then  take  your 
station  in  a  hid- 
ing place,  and 
wait      for 
your game 
to      come. 
Your  hid- 
ing -  place 
or  "blind" 


may  be  in  a  clump  of 
reeds  or  in  the  crotch  of 
a  low  tree  sufficiently  cov- 
ered with  foliage  to  hide 
you.  Or.  if  there  should  be 
no  natural  covert,  yon  may  make 
one,  always  taking  care  to  imitate  na- 
ture, which  should  not  be  difficult  if  there 
are  any  bushes  or  reeds  anywhere  near.  You  have  only 
to  cut  these  and  put  them  in  the  ground,  or  mud,  as  it  may 
be.  in  the  spot  selected  for  your  covert. 

As  for  the  decoys,  you  may  buy  them  if  you  choose,  but 
I  would  not  give  much  for  a  sportsman  who  could  not  make 
them  for  himself.  I  have  always  made  my  own  decoys, 
and  this  is  how  I  do  it.  For  snipe  I  cut  a  shingle  as  near- 
ly as  possible  into  the  shape  of  that  bird,  getting  perhaps 
four  or  five  snipe  out  of  one  shingle.  I  paint  the  birds 
the  proper  color,  and  provide  them  with  wings,  made 
sometimes  of  bark  and  sometimes  of  old  pieces  of  lea- 
ther. The  feet  and  legs  are  represented  by  a  long,  thin 
piece  running  from  the  under  part  of  the  bird,  and  will 
serve  the  purpose  of  fixing  the  decoys  in  position.  A 
plover  decoy  is  made  in  the  same  way. 

Fora  duck  decoy  I  contrive  first  to  shoot  a  duck.  This 
I  skin  and  stuff — not  a  difficult  task,  though  it  may  seem 
so.  For  a  temporary  decoy  a  dead  duck,  arranged  as 
shown  in  the  picture,  makes  the  best  kind  of  a  decoy.  I 
place  it  on  a  wooden  float,  just  buoyant  enough  to  let. 
the  decoy  rest  on  the  water  in  the  manner  of  a  live  duck. 


30,  1880. 


HARPER'S  Voi'XG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


829 


and  if  necessary  prop  up  its  head  with  a  light  Y-shaped 
twig. 

An  anchor  line  should  be  fastened  at  the  front  end  of  the 
float,  in  order  to  keep  the  head  of  the  decoy  to  the  wind, 
which  is  the  position  a  live  duck  always  takes.  Another 
important  matter  in  this  connection  is  that  you  must  al- 
ways take  up  your  position  with  the  wind  at  your  hack,  as 
that  will  bring  the  duck's  face  to  you  cither  in  alighting1 
on  the  water  or  in  rising  from  it.  I'm- a  duck  ran  not  or 
will  not  do  cither  unless  it  lias  the  wind  in  its  face.  The 
importance  of  obtaining  a  front  shot  at  a  duck  will  he  verj 
apparent  after  you  have  wasted  \our  ammunition  on  its 
hack-  a  few  times.  A  true  sportsman  will  never  attempt 
to  shoot  a  duck,  or  any  other  bird,  for  that  matter,  except 
on  the  wing. 

One  of  my  most  amusing  decoys  when  a  hoy  was  a  tame 
hawk,  which  I  would  secure  in  the  middle  of  a  Meld.      It 
was  a  good  study  in    bird 
life  to  see  how  quickly  the 
^mailer  birds  comprehend 
ed    that,    their   old    enenix 
was  a  helpless  prisoner.     It 
seemed  as  it' word  was  pass 
IM|      through      th"      woods, 
fields,  and  clouds,  for  in  a 
short  time  the  little  chaps 
would    gather    and     com 
mence  swooping  and  peck- 
ingat  the  defenseless  hawk. 
Sometimes      game       birds 
would    come,  and    then    I 
would  reap  a  harvest;  hut 
.sometimes  only  birds   not 
usually  eaten  would  put  in 
an  appearance,  and  then   I 
would  have  to  rescue  my 
pet. 

These  are  only  a  few  of 
the  ways  of  decoying  birds. 
There  are  other  ways,  such, 
for  example,  as  imitating 
call  notes,  which  many 
boys  are  expert  at.  and 
which  are  quickly  learn- 
ed when  the  young  hunter 
lias  his  heart  in  his  sport. 
You  all  of  you  know  "Bob 
White,"  of  course.  He  has 
given  himself  the  name. 
and  after  a  little  practice 
you  can  learn  to  call  him 
by  it.  so  that  he  will  come 
quite  close  to  you.  The 
same  is  true  of  many  other 
birds  which  have  peculiar 
calls  of  their  own  that  may 
be  imitated. 

A  last  word  is,  never  kill 
merely  for  the  sake  of  kill- 
ing. No  true  sportsman, 
boys,  ever  does  this.  There 
can  be  no  fun  in  the  wan- 
ton destruction  of  life  for 
any  right  -  minded  lad. 
Shoot  only  such  birds  as 
are  fit  for  the  table,  or  those 
that  have  rare  plumage, 
and  which  it  will  afford 
you  pleasure  to  stuff  and 
keep.  Let  the  rest  go,  and, 
above  all,  never  aim  your 
gun  at  a  harmless  little 
song-bird. 


Too  SELFISH. 

Oil,  Jocko,  please,  .locko,  just  only  one  bite!" 
Cries  Hover,  the  beauty,  who  longs  for  ;\  mite; 
And   ljussy  so  sleek  with  her  soft  coat  of  fur, 
Why,  haven't  you  even  a  morsel  for  her'.' 

Oh.  Jocko's  a   ro:riie.  or  lie   never  would   hike 
And  keep  fur  himself  such  a  very  large  cake, 
lie's  so  full  of  mischief,  or  else  he  would  know 
No  well-behaved    monkey  would  c\er  act   so. 

Oil.  many  a  time,  in  both  parlor  and  ball. 
Their  mistress  has  taught  the  sweet  lesson  to  all — 
To  be  happy  ourselves  we  should  make  others  loo. 
And   IICMT  be  scllish.  whatever  we  do. 


TOO    SF.LF1SII. 


830 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


VOLUME  IV. 


NAJ'iiHTY  .JIM. 

There  was  one  little  Jim, 
Tis  reported  of  him. 

And  must  be  to  his  lasting  disgrace. 
That  lie  never  was  seen 
With  hands  at  all  clean. 

Nor  yet  ever  clean  was  his  face. 

His  friends  were  much  hurt 
'l\.  see  so  much  dirt. 

And  often  they  made  him  quite  clean  : 
But.  all  was  in  vain, 
He  got  dirty  a-_'ain. 

A  in  I  nut  at  all  fit  to  be  seen. 


OUR  POST-OFFICE  BOX. 

WITH  this  number,  dear  readers  of  HARPER'S 
YOUNG  PEOPLE.  Volume  IV.  reaches  its  con- 
clusion. What  a  treasury  of  beautiful  stories, 
sketches,  poems,  and  pictures  it  is  !  As  we  turn 
the  pages  it  seems  that  the  artists  have  never 
produced  more  exquisite  illustrations,  and  tin- 
favorite  authors  have  never  written  more  brill- 
iant serials  and  short  stories.  Then,  too,  the  lit- 
tle paper  has  been  from  week  to  week  a  perfect 
m:iLray.ine  uf  instruction,  telling  you  many  won- 
derful things  about  nature  in  a  simple  and  easy 
style,  and  giving  you  a  great  deal  of  fascinating 
hist<  .rieal  reading.  Very  many  articles  have  been 
written  by  careful  pens  about  games,  pastimes, 
the  care  of  pets,  and  the  best  methods  of  using 
tools  ami  making  mechanical  toys.  The  little  wo- 
men have  had  their  special  corners  filled  with 
suggestions  about  needle  -  work,  and  adorned 
with  attractive  designs,  accompanied  by  plain 
sy  explanations. 

With  Xi ..  ;iio.  which  will  be  published  November 
11.  S.u:i-;:ll's  Yorxa  PEOPLE  will  enter  upon 'its 
fifth  year.  It  is  the  intention  of  the  publishers  t.i 
make  the  newTolume, if  possible,  rieher.  bright- 
er, and  better  than  any  of  its  predecessors.  II.u:- 
PEK'S  YOIWG  PEOPLE  has  steadily  advanced  in 
popular  regard  from  the  issue  of  its  first  number, 
simply  because  neither  pains  nor  expense  have 
been  spared  to  make  it  the  best  paper  in  the 
whole  world  for  English-speaking  children. 

The  publishers  are  doing  all  they  can.  There 
isjusl  niie  thing  our  little  friends  and  their  par- 
ents can  do  to  assist  the  conductors  of  the  pa- 
per :  t,-ii  others  how  much  you  like  it.  and  what 
a  pleasant  visitor  it  is  in  y.uir  homes.  Its  circu- 
lation is  increasing  rapidly,  and  the  larger  h  -  sub- 
scription list  shall  be  the  wider  will  be  the  circle 
of  young  people  who  derive  pleasure  and  profit 
froai  its  pages,  and  the  more  effective  its  health- 
ful influence  up.  m  the  youth  of  the  country. 

Now  a  word  for  the  Post-office  Box.  it  has 
won  its  place  in  the  love  of  the  children,  and  not 
only  its  yi  urn g  correspondents,  but  their  parents 
and  teachers,  a  bear  testimony  to  the  happi- 
ness it  causes  ...id  the  good  it  does.  From  i  In- 
far-off  slopes  of  the  I'acitie.  from  lonely  inland-. 
from  busy  towns,  from  the  farm-house  on  the 
prairie,  and  the  nursery  on  the  avenue,  the  dear 
little  letters  arrive  by  every  mail.  The  Postmis- 
t  ress  reads  and  considers  every  one.  and  feels  a 
I'lTsniial  interest  in  the  writers.  The  freedom 
with  which  they  confide  in  her  is  an  evidence  of 
their  affectionate  appreciation  of  her  work. 

since  part  of  a  polite  education  consists  in  the 
elegant  and  straightforward  use  of  the  pen.  it  is 
not  remarkable  that  teachers  in  particular  look 
up.  m  the  Post-office  Box  as  au  invaluable  help  to 
them  in  their  efforts  to  train  their  pupils  in  the 
art  of  composition. 

The  Exchange  Department  is  edited  with  mi- 
nute and  conscientious  fidelity.  It  affords  boys 
and  girls  an  opportunity  to  add,  by  exchange  with 
each  other,  to  their  cabinets  and  collections,  and 
ilso  promotes  an  enthusiastic  zeal  in  the  study 


of  Natural  Science.  The  stamps,  specimens,  and 
relies  which  the  little  possessors  send  to  each 
other  stimulate  them  to  fresh  discoveries  in  the 
departments  of  geography  and  history.  If  it  did 
nothing  else,  the  Exchange  Department  would 
I.,-  a  boon  to  boys  in  giving  them  one  more  re- 
source and  one  more  delight  at  home. 

Tin-  p lizzies  and  wiggles  will  continue  to  be  as 
sprightly,  as  droll,  and  ;.s  entertaining  in  the  fu- 
ture as  they  have  been  in  the  past.  Everything 
will  be  done  to  make  the  paper  a  welcome  guest 
wherever  it  shall  go. 


Bi-Kt  AI.O,  XK\V  Yor.K. 

DEAR  POSTMISTRESS.— I  am  not  a  little  girl,  but, 
instead,  a  teacher  of  little  girls,  and  of  boys  too. 
1  wonder  how  many  little  girls  and  boys  have  a 
warmer  election  Cor  this  charming  magazine 
than  I  have.  I  love  to  think  of  its  going  each 
week  not  only  to  children  all  over  our  own  deal- 
land,  but  to  little  ones  in  countries  across  the 
ocean,  and  to  the  tar-away  islands  of  the  seas. 
I  have  some  very  dear  children  in  my  ela»es  at 
school,  and  after  my  little  brother  Lewis,  for 
whom  I  take  the  paper,  has  read  it.  I  give  it  to 
one  of  my  school-children. 

I  wish  to  tell  the  boys  and  girls  of  a  dear  little 
girl  whom  I  met  at  the  sea-shore  in  the  summer. 
Her  name  is  Dagny  Ii.,  and  she  was  burn  in  stoek- 
holm  not  quite  riv..  years  ago.  "m-  day  when 
her  mother  had  punished  her,  she  looked  up  and 
sai.l.  "  Thank  you.  dear  mamma:  it  lias  really 
done  me  good."  Another  time  she  said,  "1  ean  t 
say  my  prayer  to-night— I  can't  say.  •  Forgive  us 
our  trespasses  ft*  "•  forgiVi  thost  f'/i"  ln<jni** 
n;i<iiuxt  IK.~  because  I'm  mad  at  Minnie." 

I  have  many  little  ones  for  pets,  but  dearest  of 
them  ;>.!!  to  me  are  my  little  nephews  le.swell 
and  Edgar,  my  little  niece  Marjorie.  and  a  deal- 
little  girl  in  Plymouth,  Michigan,  named  Myrtle. 
A  LOVER  oi1  Yofxu  PEOPLE. 


KKKNK.  XFW  MIMI-MIIKI 

Although  Yorxr.  PEOPLE  has  been  taken  in  our 
family  ever  sinee  its  first  number  in  l  he  name  of 
our  youngest  boy.  yet  we  older  ones  (.pen  its 
leaves  with  pleasure,  and  eagerly  read  its  pages, 
admiring  its  beautiful  engravings,  and  often,  as 
now,  sharpening  our  wits  over  some  of  its  puz- 
zles. We  prize  it  highly,  from  oldest  to  youngi  st, 
and  are  going  to  see  how  large  a  club  of  new 
subscribers  we  ean  send  you  tor  issi.  I  saw  a 
little  anecdote  in  our  Keene  Jiiyti-Xi'/mil  ///</.,-. 
which,  if  not  old  to  you.  mayamiiM  some  1.1  your 
readers  as  much  as  it  did  us. 

In  one  of  the  Boston  .-ehools  the  teacher  was 
always  particular  that  the  scholars  in  spelling 
should  say  double  < ,  and  not  r.  t,  double  .-.  and 
not  s,  s,  etc.  Recently  a  scholar  was  asked  to 


sun  is  shining  " 

I  send  you  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  birds  we 
found  in  Fred's  letter  to  his  mother  in  No  -Jiir. 
Thanking  you  all  for  the  interesting  and  instruct- 
ive matter  in  your  dear  little  paper,  I  remain 
your  admirer.  M.  L.  P. 

Your  story  makes  me  think  ofa  tinygirl  I  used 
to  know,  who  could  not  be  taught  for  a  long 
time  to  say  ii'  in  the  alphabet,  .she  always  said 
double  me. 


KEATrlllK.  Li.l'ISIAXA. 

We  are  two  little  sisters  living  away  down  in 
Louisiana,  and  we  thought  we  would  write  and 
tell  you  howpleased  we  are  with  HARPER'S  Yorxn 
PEOPLE.  Our  uncle,  who  lives  in  Baltimore,  sends 
ii  to  us-  Me  like  Jimmy  Brown's  and  Lucy  c 
Lillie's  stories  the  best.  We  are  so  much  inter- 
in"  Dick  and  D."  !  Mamma  is  writing  this 
for  us.  as  we  can  not  write  well  enough  \Ve 
are  six  and  seven  years  old.  and  IKIM-  a  111  tie  bro- 
ther three  years  old. 

WARTI.KY  and  BEATRICE  M. 


of  the  whole  can  be  imagined.  Inside  there  i-  :. 
row  of  malachite  pillars  ]'oi -ry  feet  high  and  four 
in  diameter,  one  of  which  is  solid!  One  i.f  the 
attractions  of  Moscow  is  the  church  of  St.  Ila.Ml, 
which  was  t  reefed  by  John  <  Han  i  the  Terrible 
When  it  was  finished  John  had  the  eyes  of  the 
Italian  architect  put  out.  so  that  he  might  not 
design  anything  so  beautiful  again.  It  is  very 
oddly  decorated  with  dragons,  imps,  and  many 
other  hideous  objects  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rain- 
bow. I  saw  the  famous  bell  of  Moscow,  whiel. 
was  broken  in  the  great  tire.  Tw,  lily-four  men 
were  required  lo  ring  it  by  swinging  the  tongue. 
But  I  fear  you  will  think  my  tongue  has  swung 
long  enough,  so  I  remain  ever  yours  lovingly. 

Kl.loT    W. 


CI.KVBLAM.,  OHIO. 

I  am  eight  years  old.  and  go  lo  school.  I  have 
begun  to  take  lessons  on  the  piano.  I  take  *i  IU-M. 
l'i  --:•!  B,  and  like  to  read  it  very  much.  We  hail 
a  re,  eption  for  our  pastor  last,  night,  and  had 
some  beautiful  roses  and  carnations.  The  whole 
house  was  lull  of  them.  I  hope  this  letter  will 
be  primed,  hreaiise  it  is  my  rirst  letter.  Now  I 
will  tell  you  about  my  playmat- -  :  I  hey  are  Con- 
nie  J.  and  Kthel  K.  Tneyarenici  -;irls.  oneli\es 
next  door,  and  has  a  baby  brother;  the  other 
lives  l  wo  doors  away,  and  has  a  big  brother. 
Goocl-by.  EDITII  T. 


ll.iKNhl  I  SV1I  I  I  ,    \BW    Y.'KK. 

I  wrote  to  yon  once  before,  but  did  not  see  my 
letter  printed,  and  was  nini-li  disappointed,  but  I 
t)ion-!it  I  would  write  again.  My  In-other,  who 
;-  in  lou'a.  gave  the  paper  to  me  tor  a  Christmas 
present,  ami  I  love  it  dearly.  I  go  to  the  1'ark 
School,  and  am  in  lioom  No.  5.  When  1  grow 
large  I  ial.nd  to  be  a  school-teacher.  I  think 
I:  'i-l  ie  !?.  ought  to  be  the  most  delighted  boy  on 
earth  ;  it  has  always  been  my  very  dearest  wish 
lo  er.s-  the  ocean  and  travel  in  stram:e  coun- 
tries. Some  other  time  1  will  write  to  ion  and 
describe  the  "Burning  Spring"  which  is  at  Niai: 
ara.  I  am  a  great  reader,  and  agree  with  Hessie 
C.  that  }\"«l' ,  !!«/<  II. ./-A/  is  a  .-plendid  book.  I 
am  thirteen  years  old.  i  send  love  to  the  I'.M- 
ini-n.  >s  from  I.IIACE  B. 


E.i.-.  II,<ia...K  ClTV,  N.  »•   .1 1  RSHV. 

I  can  not  tell  you  how  much  I  love  and  admire 
the  charming  little  paper.  Among  all  the  pub 
liea  l  ion>  i  ha  I  we  take  Voi'M,  I'Koei.  i:  is  my  favo 
lali-  Us  pictures  are  so  true  anil  beautiful,  it.-, 
stories  so  real  and  interesting,  that  i  think  ii 
inii't  elevate  anil  refine  the  taste^  ,.\  every  ehild 
with  whom  it  comes  in  contact.  It  is  doing  a 
good  work  all  over  the  world.  II  was  i:iven  to 
my  younger  sister  I\ ilia  last  Chrisl  nia^.  and  nou 
w  e  .-.  .uld  not  do  without  it. 

i;ina.  au'ed  thirteen,  and  Harry,  aged  nine,  like 
me  to  make  up  fairy  tales  for 'them.  1  inclose 
one. 

THE  WINE  OF  LIFE. 

Many  years  ago  in  a  fa_r-a\vay  country  lived  a 
poor  boy  named  Jack.  His  home  wasin  the  raids! 

of  a  dark  pine  forest,  and  with  him  li\ -ed  his  old 
blind  grand  m  other,  whom  he  supported.  He  earn- 
ed a  scant]  Ihing  by  his  beautiful  wood-carvings, 
which  he  sold  in  a  distant  city. 

The  King  of  the  country  lived  in  this  city  lie 
had  a  daughter  win  i  was  as  beautiful  as  she  was 
good,  and  was  much  loved  by  the  people.  Her 
name  was  liosina.  .Jack  was  once  run  over  in 
the  street,  and  his  right  arm  broken,  by  the  ear 
riage  of  the  Princess.  The  lovely  Rosina  burst 
into  tears,  a  ml  had  him  taken  to  the  palace,  where 
he  had  the  best  of  every  thing  until  perfectly  well. 
Meanwhile  a  woman  was  sent, with  plenty  of  pro- 
visions, to  care  for  the  old  grandmother.  '  All  this 
great  kindness  .lack  had  never  forgotten. 

^oiiie  time  afler  he  heard  that  I  he  Princess  was 
ill,  and  that  all  I  he  wisest  doctors  said  that  no- 
thing could  save  lier  but  the  wine  of  life,  and 
that  could  be  found  nowhere.  \Vhen  Jack  told 
his  grandmother  this  she  sat  for  some  time 
\\rai>;>ed  in  thought,  and  at  last  said,  "  I  know 
\\  here  it  is,  and  because  she  was  so  very  good  lo 
us  I  will  tell  you  where  to  find  it." 

After  she  told  him  Jack  rose,  and  taking  with 
him  a  curious  old  silver  thimljle,  a  sharp  needle, 
and  a  pair  of  scissors,  allot  which  I  he  old  woman 
gave  him,  he  started.  After  a  weary  walk  of 
many  miles  he  reached  a  high  mountain,  to  the 
top  of  whieh  he  climbed,  lie  then  placed  the 
scissors,  thimble,  and  needle  on  the  ground,  and 
pronounced  over  them  certain  words  which  his 
grandmother  had  taught  him.  Immediately  a 
trap-door  opened,  and  a  hideous  dwarf  asked  him 
what  he  would  give  him  to  let  him  in.  "This." 
said  Jack,  holding  the  thimble  over  bis  head,  and 
when  the  dwarf  held  up  his  hands  for  it  Jack 
dropped  it  over  his  head.  It  grew  larger  at  once. 
and  covered  him  up. 

Taking  with  him  the  needle  and  scissors,  he 
sprang  down  into  the  dark  cavern,  and  followed 
its  windings  until  he  met  a  fearful  green  dragon. 
The  dragon  sprang  on  him,  and  Ihe  tight  between 
Hi.  two  was  most  dreadful,  until  Jack  pricked 
Hi.-  dragon's  tail  with  his  needle,  ami  the  dragon 
11  ll  dead  Jack, although  much  exhausted, con- 
tinued his  journey,  and  at  last  was  rewarded  by 
seeing  before  him  the  end  of  the  cavern. 

Before  he  could  reach  it.  however,  a  goblin 
with  a  head  of  flames  sprang  from  the  ground. 


OCTOBER  30,  1883. 


HAIIPEIVS  YOUNG-  PEOPLE.— WITH  SUTLKMK.NT. 


831 


II    I    -,    I.I  . .1:1.1   V. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  \car-  old.  My  grand- 
ma takes  Y..I  NO  l'i  OP]  i.  |..r  ii-.  and  I  Ilk.'-  it  very 
mneh.  I  do  not  go  to  school,  hut  I  -ay  my  les- 
sons to  mother.  I  ha\e  two  pel  killens  and  a 
doll.  I  have  a  sister  and  a  brother  in  Texas,  and 
I  get  letters  from  them  very  ofleli.  My  sister 

wroie  m, -e  that  when  riding  on  horsebai  i. 

across  the  prairie  she  could  stop  and  li.-i.n  t,,th. 
w  oh  es  biu-kin;;.    She  has  a  splendid  horse. 

BKTTY  CLYDE  P. 

I  hope  she  may  never  have  to  try  the  speed  of 
her  horse  against  a  park  of  wolves.  It  is  a  com- 
fort, though,  that  unless  famished  they  are  very 
great  cowards. 


DAS i.  MAI.II. 

I  am  a  little  girl  twelve  years  old.  and  have 
been  sick  with  diphtheria.  I  am  now  sittin-' 
up  in  bed,  writing.  1  am  getting  along  nicely 
now, and  feel  well  enough  to  he  dre--e.l  to-day; 
hut  the  doctor  said  n<, t  until  tomorrow,  for  fear 
I  might  take  cold,  as  it  is  a  cold,  windy  day 
Mamma  brought  in  the  VIM-MI  I'EOIM.K  that  came 
to-day,  and  read  it  to  me.  she  read  two  letters 
from  Bangor,  the  lir-t  I  have  ever  seen  printed 

from  here.     I  wrot ie  last  Christmas  week, 

hut  it  was  not  printed,  so  I  thought  1  would  "  try 
again."  Papa's  cousin  Will,  from  Brooklyn,  New 
York,  has  sent  me  Y.,IN.;  PEOPLE  ever 'since  it 
was  published^  and  we  are  all  (It-lighted  with  it. 
He  also  has  sent  II  ini-iai's  WKKKI.Y  to  papa  for 
a  great  many  years.  Isn't  he  kind  • 

I  have  a  brother  Frank,  nineteen  years  old.  who 
is  in  a  lumber  office  down-town  ;  he  walks  down 
every  morning,  and  we  live  two  miles  from  the 
city.  I  have  a  sister  Nellie,  six  years  old  and  she 
is  as  sweet,  as  can  be.  I  have  a  little  Mack  kitty 
named  Tippy.  Frank  has  a  dog  named  Rudolph 
and  Nellie  has  a  pet  chicken,  very  tame,  named 
•  lessie.  I  am  very  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  leave 
my  school  for  a  while,  for  I  wanted  to  learn  so 
much  this  term.  I  like  my  teacher  very  much  ; 


One  dexterous  cut  of  Jack's  sci-sors  severed  his  ' 
h.-ad   from   hi-  bo.h.     There   h.-torr  him.  at   the 
end  of  the  cavern,  sl I  j  n-\  -ial  goblet  contain- 
ing the  win.-  of  lib-     He  could  now  take  it,  as  he 

had  killed  the  b.  ings  |  ha  I  guarded  it.  \Vilh  it  in 
ids  band  lie  retraced  In-  steps,  and  wen  I  at  once 
I,,  Ihr  cily.  Having  obtain,-,!  admi-sion  to  the 
palace,  he  presented  it  with  his  own  hand  to  the 
Prince--.  As  soon  as  she  tasted  il  she  sprang  up 
from  her  couch,  and  threw  her  arms  round  Jack's 
neck,  drrlaring  Ihal  hr  should  be  her  husband. 
So,,n  all  was  f.-asiing  and  merry-making,  and 
when  -lack  and  1,',,-ina  \\rrr  marrird  thr  old 
gran, Imol  her  was  brought  to  t),,-  palace  to  live 
with  ihem  Thr  high  nioiinl alii,  however,  had 
di-app.  arid,  and  \\a-  never  seen  again. 

HELEN  J.  K. 

.   i,,..,,   M-.-.--,- 

I  am  a  lill !.-  girl  eleven  \ ,  a  rs  old. 
Here  in  Caie bridge  it  is  .piile  cold. 
I  am  fond  of  rhyming,  as  \.m  ma>. 
Here  is  a  pi.,-,  romp ,,.,-d  by  me: 

Maslrr  (Jalld.-r  had  a   parly. 

And  invited  all  his  friends, 
liven  roo-lrr-.  t  nrl-.,--,  *.  rhirkrn-. 

And  one  or  l  wo  .,[,1   h,  r. 

M,  ,-t  w  ere  in  tii.-ir  p:  i, 

Promptly  at  nine  o'clock. 
And  at   half  past   nhir  ],r,-,-i-,  U 

Thr  old   gandl  [   l  unicd  the  lock. 

M:,-!'  i    i  .ander  gave  a    solo, 

Mrs.  lieu  played  a  dalire. 
Tin1  chicken-  sang  jii-l  splendidly. 

And  lip-  tnrkrys  fairly  pranrrd. 

Thc\    had    for  rol'rr-hliirnl  - 

Worms,  bug-,  and   -Ing-  ; 
The  eompaiiv  air   hrartily. 

And  e-]-,-, -ially  ol    bng- 

\\'h.-n  Ihe  time  for  going  came. 

'flu-   lii  i  Ir  ones  did   cry. 
But   then-  mothers  had'-'  llirm 

Dry  Iheir  tear.-  and  bid  the  iv-l   go.ul-by. 

They  -ay  they're  going  to  hair  another  one, 

And    I    don  l    doubt    j|  ; 
If    1    g.  >   and    see   the    fun. 

I'll    \\rile    \on   all  about    il. 

Plea-e    r \rn-r    W  riling. 

If  you  ran 
From  your  conslaiil   reader. 

I.I  l.i    .1.  M  V\N. 

N  t  «    BCPFALO,  DAKOTA    t    ,  I:,T.,K*  . 
I  am  eight  \ear-  .,1,1.     I   have  ihn-e  brothers. 
l>ul   no  sislers.     I  live  ..n  I  lie  prairie,  and  have 
r.-ad    //.,•/,    Tom's   Cabin,  /.it//,    l/,/,.  and  Link 

\\tilili, i    lalrly         \\  r  tried   Die  roeoa-nllt  drops  011 

my  brother  Arthur's  birthday,  and  they  wen- 
very  nice.  \Ve  found  a  moil-,  down  in  the  well. 
and  made  a  cage  for  him,  and  lamed  him;  we 
have  opened  the  door  to  let  him  out,  but  be  does 

not  want  logo,  hi- pen  i-  -o  eoinforlahlr.  The 
flowers  here  are  M-ry  prrlly.  and  sometimes  ihr 
prairie  is  almost  .-o \er,-d  with  th,  m 

l-'iiAv  i;;  L.  C. 


-In-  i-  also  my  music-teacher  I  take  two  le-snns 
a  wr.k  on  the  piano,  and  like  it  very  much.  1 
live  near  Monni  Hop.-,  our  beautiful  cemeterj 

I  would  like  to  write  more  about  oilier  ihniL;-. 
bill  I  am  I  irrd.     Mamma  -ays  you  mu-i  !,,-  a  dear, 

I -at  irnl    I  ail)    to  do  so   Inllrli  for  little  1  oiks        I   do 

uope  you  will  please  print  t'ii-.  I  had  to  g.-l 
mamma  to  rop\  it  for  me.  I  began  to.  but  my 
hatul  Irrinbled  -o  I  could  not  wril  e.  and  I  go! 
tired.  A  kiss  for  tile  Po-t  ini-Irr-- 

GBAI  n   i:.  P. 

lam  very  glad,  dear,  that  youluur  i,.-o\rrr,l 
from  that  perilous  and  painful  disease,  dij'hl  hr 
ria.  1  hop.-  it  may  n.-\  <-r  a  I  lark  > ,  ,11  aga  in.  This 
i'-ng  Irltrr  [or  a  linie  e,  ,n\  alr-r,  1:1  to 
wrile.and  I  trusl  it  will  make  you  (guile  happy 
to  see  how  ii  look-  in  print. 


1  am  a  boy  el.  \.  old,  and  live  among 

the  Green  Mountains,  not  far  from  Mount  Mans- 
field. All  olhrr  l,,,\-  and  girl-  t.-II  an  Hit  their 
pel-,  and  -o  w  ill  I .  I  have  a  pair  of  litllr  steers. 
a  canal •-,  bll  .,  Killy  nani,  d  Tommy. 

aii>l  .1  deal   littli    brother  named  Hairy.     1  go  to 

sol i  almosl  .  v,  ry  day.  and  stu.h  geography, 

'- 1- aar,  arithmetic,  spelling,  reading,  and  w  m 

ing.  I  [Ike  my  teacher  very  much.  I  had  a  good 
time  sliding  down-hill  the  other  day  \\hrn  i! 
sn,  ,\\  .-.I  -o  liar.  I.  [  wonder  if  any  other  boys  and 
girls  slid  d..\vn-hill  that  da>  c.  s.  s. 

\\  •-  have  had  no  sn.-h  untimely  -now  in  this 
region  yet,  l.u'  .lark  Frost  \i-il-  \.,ii  and  the 
oth.-i-  moniilainerr-  earlier. 


I  like  so  much  t,,  read  i  he  letters  ii.,in  other 
little  girls  and  boys  that  I  i  bought  I  would  like 
lo  wine  one  mysrlf  and  sre  it  in  prinl .  I  \\a- 
eleveu  years  old  daj  before  yesterday,  and  I  had 

to  l.a  a  III  I  Ic  friend  of  mine  \\  ho  has  hern  wil  h 
me  cverx  birthday  since  my  third.  I  am  going 
to  school  now.  and  ha\  <•  been  al  school  r\  n  -  m,, 
I  was  In  e  \  ears  old.  and  never  was  !  ardy  ;  and  I 

1  i-i  iinishrd  my  s. Qd  quarter  in  mj  D 

I  ha\r  a  nirr  larg.-  .-rrap-l k  \\'ith  li\r  him, Irrd 

cards  in  il .  I  have  a  111  1 1.-  -i-l.-r  lir--i,-.  -ix  y.-ars 
Old,  and  a  Intl.-  brolhrr  l.'irliard.  lour  years  ,,ld. 
I  hope  l  hr  n,  un>r-  won 'I  g.-l  all  Monty  M,'s  tur 
l.r  \  -  I  hope  i  mas  ah\  a>  .-  ha\  e  \  <>i  M.  Pi  ,  ,1-1  f  , 
I  like  il  so  much.  '  I'.i  BTA  1,.  \v. 

\\  ell  't-, I.i-  in  ,  dl  .'I  '  \ll  excellent  record,  t  hi-  . 
P.erla  has  attended  scliool  six  years,  and  lias  not 
once  been  late.  I  should  like  to  shake  bands 
w  ilh  so  honorable  a  girl.  Too  few  of  u-  rnnrni- 
ber  Ilia!  Ihr  person  \\lio  i-  tan!)  g'urs  olhrrs 

gr.-at  annoyance, and  wa-rcs  time  that  is  in,i  iiis 
own. 


BKVKKI.V,  NBV  .IMI-,  \. 

I  am  staying  at  my  grandpa's.  I  li\e  in  Philo 
(leiphia.  \  canary  bird  which  is  tame  a  lid  a  land 
turtle  t  hat  goes  a  ho  ill  Ihr  gar,  i.-n  art-  1  hr  |,.-i  -  I 
have.  If  >on  have  nolhing  else  to  do.  s,,ln,  all 
ernoon,  it  is  fun  to  make  paper  dolls  jump  and 
dance  'ion  m--t  g.-i  two  l ks:  then  put  a 

l>irce  of  glass-  the  glass  should  llol    be  loo  small 

— in  the  hook-  so  thai  it  will  rise  abon!  an  inch 
and  a  <|iiartrr  from  Ihe  table.  Cut  little  dolls 
out  of  t  i  — tie  [taper  about  half  an  inch  high,  rub 
the  glass  ipiirkh  with  a  giiece  of  silk  for  a  min- 
ute, and  then  stop  :  they  will  all  .lump  up  on  1  he 
glass  and  dance.  Alter  they  fall  on  the  table, 
rub  the  glass  again.  Al  n  i.  s.  .M. 


CEL>AR  I-  ALL-,  I  i\\  i. 

I  am  a  little  hoy  len  years  old.  I  have  n..  bro- 
thers or  sisters  like  many  others  that  have  writ- 
ten t,,  llAKi-iat's  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  I  have  a  dog; 
his  name  is  Sam;  he  is  a  setter.  My  papa  likes 
to  go  out  hunting,  and  takes  Sam  along.  Papa 
-ho,  ,1  s  ducks  and  prairie-chickens,  and  Sam  linr- 
t  linn  and  brings  them  to  him.  I  have  sonic  little 
ehirkrns.  My  pa[,a  is  an  editor.  I  like  to  go 
i  low  n  lo  the  oftice  and  fold  papers  on  publica!  ion 
day.  1  go  to  school.  I  like  my  teacher. 

1  was  in  New  York  last  summer,  and  was  going 
to  .-all  ,,ii  ihr  Postmistress  of  HARPKIS'S  Y.u  N,. 
PKOI-I.I  .  bin  did  not  have  time,  because  I  went 
to  so  many  places,  hut  I  was  sorry  J  could  not.  I 
visited  most  of  the  summer  resorts  on  the  sea- 
coast,  and  went  in  bathing.  We  went  to  cen- 
i  ra  I  I'ark.  \Ye  eainr  hour-  by  way  of  Philadel- 
phia, Bah  imore,  and  Washington  over  the  Balti- 
more and  Ohio  Kailroad.  I  had  a  nice  time.  I 
think  HAIII-KK'S  Yoi-N(i  PEOPLE  is  a  very  nice  pa- 
per, and  think  "  liaising  the 'Pearl'"  is  a  good 
story,  and  1  would  like  to  have  been  with  those 
boys.  BEUTIE  L.  II. 

I.AM'AFF,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE. 

I  live  away  out  in  the  country,  among  the  New 
Hampshire  hills.  I  have  thought  a  great  many 
times  that  1  would  write  to  you,  but  I  did  not 
know  where  lo  direct  a  letter.  I  have  taken 
YOUNG  PEOPLE  two  years,  and  like  it  very  niiieh. 
My  playmate.  Carrie  H.,  takes  the  Youth's  <  'om- 
IHtnitni,  and  we  exchange  :  but  I  like  my  paper 
best,  because  when  I  want  a  good  story  J  know- 
where  to  go.  For  pets  I  have  two  cats,  a  cow, 
sixteen  chickens,  and  a  horse  that  1  can  drive.  I 


1  three-year-old  brother  named  Charlie.    I 

have  never  written  before.     1  should  like  one  of 

those  doll's  patterns.     Please  tell  III.'  how    to  send. 

shall  I  send  tile  price  in  moiiej  ,,r  stamps! 

.h  \MI:  1,.  c. 

Send  a  five-cent  stamp  in  a  letter,  asking  for 
the  Nautilus.  Give  >onr  name  and  l'o-!-oflitv 
address  in  full. 


I  am  ten  yea*-  old.  an  1  I  like  'IOL.N.:  Picon. i; 
very  much.  I  like  Jimmy  Brown's  stories  and 
"  Raising  the '  Pearl' "  best  of  all,  [have  no  pets 
apignamedHarney.  This  is  the  first  i.-i- 
ter  1  bave  r\  ,-r  wriltrn.  and  as  I  hav  n.-\-rr  sren 
one  from  this  place.  I  thought  I  would  wriie  one, 
\\-hirli  I  ho]).-  the  kind  P<  .-l  nii-l  i ,---  will  insrrt. 
1  have  t  wo  brothers  and  one  si-Irr  JOHN  II.  F. 

A  pig  is  a  droll  pet.  but  doubtless  a  well  be 
ha  veil  one.  I  wonder  if.  like  the  eel. -bra  led  learn- 
ed pig,  yours  could  he  taught  hi  •  i;  i  '.- 

Thanks  for  kind  h-l  trrs  to  V.  (i.  and  Miss  Fan- 
nii-  V.  P.,  who  have  cadi  inclosed  a  budget  of 
missives  from  Iheir  pupils.  A  selection  from 
these  will  appear  hereafter  Tin-  Indian-snminrr 
Irltrr-  a;-.-  coining  in  rapid  I  \ .  and  some  of  them 
areverygOOd  J.  Uh-i-<;.:  •>  ,,in-liltlr  Icttcrand 
o  i  i  ipl  arc  1  I  irk. -d  safely  into  a  eo/.\  corner,  and 
lliry  \\-lll  soon  br  published.  —  1  wish  e\rliangrl - 

won!,!  hr  raivfnl  lo  give  Iheir  names  and  ad- 
fulh  and  plainly.     Some  actually  arrive 
without  any  signal  lire. 


ITZZI.Ks  FKii.M  \(iCN(i  CONTRIBUTORS. 

No.  I. 

T\VO    KASl      I.IA.MOM,- 

1.— 1.  In  fun       -'    A   sh.-ller.     ;i.  The  la.-l   of  the 
Mohicans.     -4.  The    heroine  of  a    favorite   story. 

lisp. 

2. — 1.  In  river.     -.  A  hidalgo.     :i  A    wanderer. 
I.  A  snare,    a.  In  river.  KI'KI.KA 


No.  ^. 
li  x  1 1 .  M  v 

In  stove,  not  in  grate. 
In  weave,  n-  ,1  in  tale. 
In  shark,  not  in  fish. 
In  meals,  n.,1  in  disb. 
In  pig.  not  in  an! 
In  tig.  not  in  plant 
In  bowi.  no!  in  .-an 
In  sgiliinx.  not  in  man 

My  whole  is  the  name  of  an  animal,  and  was 
one.    t  hr  nickname  of  a  brave  officer. 

A.  CECIL  PERKY,  JUN. 


No.  :i. 

nonu.i;  A(  i;o-i-;r 

Primals  spell  the  name  ofan  eminent  botanist. 
1-  ina  1-  !  hat  of  his  mil  ivr  Slat,-. 

1.  A  boy's  name.    '.'    \nh.-rb     :).  A  weapon.    4. 
Merrily.   ."[.Comparison,   li.  A  flower.    ',    A  f.  Her. 

No.  4. 

ANAG11AM. 

I  lost  a  eat,  Lou.  ANNA  DAVI-,,-. 

ANS\YEI,'S  Til  PrZX.I.US  IX  No.  SOU. 

No.  1.— 1.  Plane.  3.  Rose.  :;  Zebra.  4.  spindle.  r>. 
Bread.  11.  Sandal.  T.  linby.  «.  Satin,  '.i 
Willow.  10.  Spruce.  II  Dog.  I','.  Klder. 
IS.  Hickory.  I  I.  Fir.  ].">  Lime.  111.  II  elm 
IT.  Pine.  18." Iron,  in  Lance  -Jii.  l.-ai-ch. 
SI.  Locust.  S3.  Mangle.  -J:j.  Palm  S4.  Par- 
tridge. -Ja.  Pear,  '.'I',  orange  -jr.  Plum. 
38.  Medlar.  3D.  cl-oak.  Su.  Beetle.  31.  Al- 
mond. 33.  Apple.  33.  Alder.  34.  Aps.  .T. 
Ash.  36  Mar  K.  Pav  .'is.  Kerch  :!!!  Box. 
40.  Bo.  41.  Bullet.  43.  Button.  43.  Cabbage. 
44.  chestnut.  4."j.  Co-co.  411.  Leopard.  4r. 
Hazel.  48.  Coffee.  40.  crab.  00.  Canary. 
51.  Yew. 


No.; 


P 

M  I  M 

BASIL 

M  A  N  I  L  L  A 

FUSILLADE 

MILLAR!) 

CLARE 

ADD 

E 


Correct  answers  to  puz/ies  have  been  received 
from  Nettie  Holland.  (Iretcben,  J.  II.  P..  Ifobin 
llyke.  M.  L.  Parmcnter.  Louie  Unwell, \V.  Seibert. 
Alice  Minis.  Nellie  L.  Van  Winkle,  Alex,  and  Ida 
Hequembourg.  Justus  R.  Holme. .Inn..  Herberts 
Foster,  G.  C'.  Hardin.  Leonard  c.  Was.m.  Jennie 
Fisher,  Flossie  and  Kit! :  ie.  ( 'arrie  E.  Fletcher.  Em- 
ily Atkinson.  H.  E.  C.,  Grace  Ii.  Miller.  Maria  and 
Laura  Bowers,  (in-tave  Anderson.  Robert  Hop- 
kins. Andrew  Wainwright,  Joseph  Whitehead, 
Maggie  Mayiie,  and  Ella  Dart. 


[For  Exchanges,  see  3d  and  3d  pages  of  corf 


832 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE— WITH  SUPPLEMENT. 


ME  IV. 


THE  ORPHAN. 
MY  father  and  mother  are  clrnil. 

Nor  friend  nor  relation  [  know  : 
And  now  the  cold  earth  is  their  lied. 

And  daisies  will  over  them  grow. 

I  cast  my  eyes  up  to  the  sky  ; 

I  wept,  though  I  said  not  a  word  : 
Yet  God  was'  not  deaf  to  my  cry. 

The  Friend  of  the  Fatherless  heard. 


WASHING  AND  DRESSING. 

An  :  why  will  my  dear  little  girl  lie  ><>  cross. 

And  cry,  and  look  sulky,  and  pout  :• 
To  lose  her  sweet  smile  is  a  terrible  loss; 

I  can't  even  kiss  her  without. 

I'll  finish  so  soon  if  yon  only  won't  cry. 

But  pay  me  for  all  with  a  kiss  ; 
That's  right —  take   the   towel   and  wipe   ynur 
l>ri-  lit  eye ; 

T  know  you'll  be  good  after  this. 


THE  NEW  CLOTH  Ks. 
Hi:  strutted  proudly  through  the  street. 

With  looks  both  vain  and  pert ; 
A  sweep-boy  passed,  whom  not  to  nicei, 

He  slipped— into  the  dirt. 

The  sooty  lad,  whose  heart  was  kind. 

To  help  him  quickly  ran. 
And  grasped  his  arm,  with.  "  Never  mind  ; 

You're  up,  my  little  man." 


THE  GOOD-NATURED  GIRLS. 

Two  good  little  children, 
Named  Mary  and  Ann, 
Moth  happily  live, 
As  good  girls  always  can; 
And  though  they  are  not 
Either  sullen  or  mute. 
They  seldom  or  never 
Are  heard  to  dispute. 


' 


THE  DAISIES. 

WE'LL  take  the  daisies,  white  anil  red. 
Because  mamma  has  often  said 
Thai  we  may  gather  them  inste:nl. 

And  much  I  hope  we  always  may 
Our  very  dear  mamma  obey. 
Ami  miiM  \yh:itever  she  may  say. 


FOR   A   XATOIITY  LITTLE  IJIRl. 

MY    sweet  little   girl  should    he  -cheerful   and 
mild  : 

she  must  not  be  fretful,  and  cry. 
Oil,  why  is  she  nauurhtvv     I.VmemlnT.  my  pet, 

That  all  will  be  well  by-and-by 


GREEDY  K1CHARD. 

"  I  THINK  I  want  some  pies  this  morning.' 
s.iid  Dick,  stretching  himself  and  yawning 
So  down  he  threw  his  slate  and  books. 
\pil  sauntered  to  the  pastry-cook's. 

And  there  he  cast  his  greedy  eyes 
Round  on  the  jellies  and  the  pies. 
So  tn  select,  with  anxious  care, 
The  very  nicest  that  was  there. 


THE  PARTY. 
TIIKY  dance,  they  play,  and  sweetly  sing, 

In  every  sport  each  one  partakes; 
Ami  now  the  servants  sweetmeats  bring, 

With  nuts  and  jellies,  fruit  and  cakes. 

"  Miss  Kaimy's  maid  for  her  is  come  " 
"Oh  dear,  how  soon  !"  the  children  cry. 

They  press,  but  Fanny  will  go  home, 
And  bids  her  little  friends  good-by. 


THE  VILLAGE  GREEN. 

ON  the  cheerful  village  green, 
skirted  round  with  houses  small. 

All  the  boys  and  girls  are  seen. 
I'laving  there  with  hoop  and  ball. 

Rich  array  and  mansions  proud, 
Gilded  toys  and  costly  fare, 

Wi'uM  not  make  This  little  crowd 
Halt'  sii  happy  as  they  are. 


S      LRLEMENT  TO  HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


OCTOBER    30,    1883. 


FAVOEITE   BOOKS   FOE  HOLIDAY   PRESENTS. 

BY  HELEN  S.  COXANT. 


HOW  many  of  the  little  readers  of  YOUXG  PEOPLE  have 
begun  to  think  and  plan  about  Christinas  : 

Christmas!  it  is  ever  so  long  before  Christmas!  shout 
thousands  of  merry  voices.  <  Inly  two  months,  dear  boys 
and  girls,  and  that  is  a  very  short  time  ill  which  In  prepare 
for  the  sweet  holiday  season. 

It  does  not  seem  much  like  Christmas  now.  to  lie  sure, 
for  that  is  the  season  of  skating  and  coasting  to  happy  lit- 
1 1e  folk's,  and  of  lileak  snow-slorms  and  sharp  biting  winds 
to  thousands  of  poor  children  who  have  no  home  and  no 
si  idler,  while  to-day  the  grass  is  still  given,  and  the  he:m 
lil'nl  Indian  summer  infolds  meadows  and  Melds  and 
woods  in  its  warm  purple  mantle  of  soft  sunshine. 

It  is  always  a  bad  plan  to  put  oil'  attending  to  things 
until  the  last  moment,  for  if  yon  work  in  a  hurry  you  e;m 
not  work  well.  ;md  something  is  sure  to  he  left  undone'. 

'That  is  why.  now  in  these  ple.-i-unt  autumn  days,  I  ask 
ail  tin-  readers  of  YOING  PEOPLE  to  sit  down  and  have  a 
long  chat  about  Christinas. 

There  are  a  great  many  things  you  wish  to  do  in  make 
Christmas  a  day  <>f  real  happiness  for  yourselves  and 
others.  Boys  and  girls  always  wonder  \\  hal  Santa  ('laus 
will  bring,  and  every  one  is  hoping  that,  some  specially  de- 
sired gifl  will  drop  from  the  hands  of  the  jolly  old  saiul 
as  lie  v.illops  over  the  chimney-lop.  Some  of  yon  who 
are  very  little  print  tiny  Idlers,  and  hide  them  where  this 
lover  of  good  children  is  sure  to  Mud  them  ;  but  among  the 
older  ones  it  ( les  to  be  understood  that  for  some  mys- 
terious reason  mamma  knows  more-  about  the  contents  of 
the  reindeer  sledge  than  any  one  els".  ;ind  it  is  to  her  they 

confide  their  wishes  and  hopes;  and  somehow  things  placed 

in  mamma's  hands  always  come  out  right.  But  it  is  time 
now  for  you  to  think  about  the  little  requests  which  will 
guide  mamma  in  her  interview  with  Santa  ('laus. 

Then,  besides  yourselves,  there  are  many  others  you 
must  think  about — brothers,  sisters,  and  a  whole  army  of 
poor  children  who  probably  will  never  know  the  good 
saint  of  Christmas  if  you  do  not  bring  him  to  them. 

There  is  no  happiness  more  beautiful  than  that  reflect- 
ed upon  us  from  the  bright  faces  of  others,  and  it  is  es- 
pecially sweet  when  we  ourselves  have  been  the  means  of 
making  those  faces  bright.  If  you  do  not  know  this  by 
experience,  try  it,  and  you  will  find  you  never  had  so 
much  pleasure  in  your  life  before.  Christmas  is  a  nice 
time  to  begin  to  work  for  happiness  in  this  way. 

You  will  all  hope  for  a  great  many  toys  and  other  trink- 
ets. This  is  perfectly  right,  for  boys  and  girls,  especial- 
ly the  little  ones,  must  have  dolls  and  playthings  of  all 
kinds.  But  stop  a  moment  and  think  which  of  your  last 
Christmas  gifts  you  now  prize  the  most.  The  dolls  are 
headless  and  cast  aside,  the  playthings  are  broken  or  you 
are  tired  playing  with  them;  but  I  do  not  believe  one  of 
you  is  tired  of  reading  and  re-reading  your  books,  and 
therefore  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  some  of  the  beauti- 
ful books  which  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers  have  prepared 
for  their  youthful  readers,  that  you  may  think  them  over 
and  make  your  choice  before  Christmas. 

Here  is  the  bound  volume  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  for  1883. 
What  a  wealth  of  amusement  lies  between  its  pretty  green 
covers!  There  are  hundreds  of  beautiful  pictures  of  child 
life  which  the  best  artists  and  engravers  have  prepared 
with  special  care ;  there  are  poems — pretty  childish  jingles, 
which  you  can  teach  to  the  sweet  baby  sister  or  brother, 
and  spirited  verses  just  such  as  boys  and  girls  need  for 
speaking  in  school ;  delightful  stories ;  descriptions  of  games 
and  mechanical  contrivances  for  boys;  thrilling  tales  of 


adventures  by  land  and  sea,  by  James  Payn  and  other  au- 
thors; and  instructive  articles,  accounts  of  events  in  his- 
tory, descriptions  of  birds  and  beasts,  and  creatures  that 
live  under  water:  short  biographies  of  celebrated  artists 
and  musicians —so  many  things  to  interest  and  instruct 
little-  readers  that  it  is  impossible  to  describe  them  all. 

This  volume  contains  Mrs.  Lillie's  delightful  story  of 
"Nan."  And  the  same  author,  who  must  love  children 
very  much  to  write  so  beautifully  about  them,  tells  in 
"Dick  and  I). "of  the  bitter  trials  of  t  wo  poor  orphan  boys, 
and  how  they  at  last  found  friends  and  a.  comfortable 
borne.  Then.  too.  in  this  volume  is  the  "Raising  the 
'  !  'earl,'  "  a  fascinating  story  of  adventure,  by  James  Otis, 
about  three  boys  who  raised  a  sunken  yacht,  and.  with 
their  friend  ( 'aptain  Sammy  and  the  "pirate"  Tommy 
Tucker,  took  a  voyage  in  her  through  the  Florida  lakes 
and  rivers. 

Little  piano  students  will  lind  here  pretty  simple  melo- 
dies written  especially  for  tiny  lingers.  And  then  there 
is  the  charming  Post-office  Box,  which  gives  weekly  news 
from  little  folks  all  over  the  world,  telling  of  their  studies, 
their  pels,  their  sports,  and  their  I  roubles  in  their  own 
sweet  childish  words. 

This  beautiful  volume  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  as  attractive 
a  present  as  could  be  selected  for  a  whole  family  of  youth- 
ful readers,  as  each  one,  from  the  little  household  pet  to 
the  boys  and  girls  already  too  old  for  dolls  and  play- 
things, is  sure  to  lind  in  it  amusement  and  instruction. 

it  would  be  a  suitable  and  appropriate  gift  for  the  chil- 
dren's ward  in  a  hospital.  You  who  have  loving  parents 
to  care  for  you,  and  to  bring  fruit  and  flowers  and  pretty 
things  to  your  bedside  when  you  are  sick,  she  iildrememher 
those  homeless  little  ones  who  are  dependent  upon  charity 
— your  charity,  because  I  trust  you  are  not  among  those 
who  leave  kind  deeds  for  others  to  do.  The  tender  hands 
and  hearts  that  care  for  sick  children  in  our  great  hospitals 
can  not  always  find  time  to  amuse  each  little  one  who  is 
convalescent;  and  think  what  a  nice  thing  it  would  be  if  a 
volume  of  YOUNG  PEOPLE  was  ready  to  place  in  the  hands 
of  a  feeble  child,  who  must  have  weary  days  of  waiting 
before  health  returns. 

If  your  Christmas  allowance  will  not  permit  you  to 
send  the  volume,  then  take  a  subscription  for  the  new 
year,  and  every  week  you  will  send  a  bright  bit  of  sun- 
shine where  it  is  needed. 

A  year's  subscription  to  YOUNG  PEOPLE  is  a  beautiful 
present  to  any  child.  If  yon  do  not  have  the  pretty  little 
paper,  tell  mamma  that  it  would  be  a  very  nice  thing  for 
Santa  Glaus  to  bring  you  ;  and  if  it  is  already  your  week]  v 
visitor,  show  it  to  your  little  friends,  and  tell  them  it  is  the 
prettiest  Christmas  present  they  can  choose.  The  new 
volume  will  be  prettier  and  more  interesting,  if  possible. 
than  the  one  now  closing,  for  the  very  best  writers  and 
the  very  best  artists  are  hard  at  work  hunting  up  beau- 
tiful things  to  make  little  boys  and  girls  happy.  Now, 
when  they  are  working  so  hard  for  you.  you  must  show 
your  appreciation,  and  please  them  by  getting  as  many 
new  subscribers  for  the  paper  as  you  can. 

You  all  know  Margaret  Eytinge,  for  she  has  written 
ever  so  many  pretty  stories  and  poems  which  have  been 
printed  in  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  You  can  not  imagine  until 
you  see  it  what  a  lovety  book  she  has  prepared  for  your 
Christmas  stocking.  It  is  called  The  Ball  of  the  Vege- 
tables, and  Other  Stories,  in  Prose  and  Vcrsr.  and  Messrs. 
Harper  &  Brothers  have  published  it.  It  is  printed  011 
cream-colored  paper,  and  in  large  type  that  will  not  hurt 


834 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


SUPPLEMENT. 


your  eyes.  There  are  a  large  number  of  beautiful  illus- 
trations, and  seventy  delightful  stories  and  poems.  The 
handsome  cover  will  make  your  eyes  dance,  especially 
when  you  look  at  it  closely,  and  see  King  Pumpkin  and 
Queen  Squash  seated  on  their  throne,  watching  the  merry 
revels  of  their  guests  at  the  ball.  It  is  one  of  the  prettiest 
new  story-books,  and  besides  overflowing  with  amusement, 
contains  a  good  many  things  that  will  set  you  to  thinking. 

Here  is  another  new  book,  with  a  beautifully  illumi- 
nated cover,  upon  which  a  rampant  elephant  defiantly 
waves  his  trunk  at  a  band  of  native  hunters  who  are  pelt- 
ing him  with  spears.  It  is  The  Boy  Travellers  in  Cen- 
tral A  frica.  by  Thomas  W.  Knox.  The  boys,  Frank  and 
Fred,  and  their  companion  and  mentor,  Dr.  Bronson,  are 
old  friends  of  many  readers,  who  have  journeyed  with 
them  through  the  wonderful  countries  of  the  far  East. 
In  this  volume,  which  ends  their  wanderings  and  brings 
them  home  in  safety,  they  traverse  the  wild  countries  of 
Africa  with  camels  and  a  caravan  of  their  own.  They 
follow  the  routes  of  Livingstone,  Baker,  and  other  eminent 
travellers,  they  study  the  habits  of  the  elephant,  the  hippo- 
potamus, the  rhinoceros,  and  other  beasts  in  the  swam] is 
and  rivers  where  these  creatures  make  their  home,  and  see 
and  learn  many  strange  things  about  the  inhabitants  of  this 
remote  region.  This  magnificent  book  is  profusely  illus- 
trated, and  contains  two  maps  which  give  the  most  recent 
discoveries  in  the  vast  continent  of  Africa. 

Colonel  Knox  has  a  delightful  way  of  giving  informa- 
tion, and  the  descriptions  of  strange  countries,  given  in  the 
series  of  which  African  adventure  forms  the  fifth  volume, 
are  drawn  mostly  from  the  personal  observation  of  the 
author.  A  more  fascinating  account  of  boyish  travel  has 
never  been  written.  In  the  first  volume  the  boys,  togeth- 
er with  their  kind  friend,  leave  home,  viCt  San  Francisco 
and  the  Pacific  Ocean,  for  Japan  and  China,  where  they 
ascend  the  volcano  of  Fusiyama,  visit  the  Great  Wall  of 
China,  and  study  the  habits  and  customs  of  those  two 
wonderful  countries.  In  Part  Second  they  continue  their 
travels  through  Siam  and  Java,  and  visit  some  curious 
islands  of  the  Malay  Archipelago.  Part  Third  takes  our 
young  travellers  through  Ceylon,  India,  Burmah,  where 
they  visit  the  scenes  where  Dr.  Juclsou  and  other  mission- 
aries lived  and  labored  among  the  heathen,  and  the  Philip- 
pine Islands.  And  ill  Part  Fourth  the  boys  make  an  ex- 
tensive tour  of  Egypt  and  the  Holy  Land.  They  pass 
through  the  wonderful  Suez  Canal,  and  explore  the  sacred 
localities  about  Jerusalem  and  in  other  portions  of  Pales- 
tine. Each  volume  of  this  splendid  library  of  travel  for 
youthful  readers  is  beautifully  bound,  and  has  a  vast  num- 
ber of  fascinating  pictures.  The  volumes  are  sold  separate- 
ly, and  should  be  found  in  the  library  of  every  boy  and  girl. 

There  are  two  more  delightful  books  which  Colonel 
Knox  has  prepared  expressly  for  the  boys  of  America. 
They  are  called  The  Young  Nimrods ;  or,  Hunting  Ad- 
ventures on  Land  and  Sea.  One  volume  is  devoted  to 
the  sports  of  North  America,  and  the  other  tells  about  ad- 
ventures around  the  world.  No  boy  could  choose  a  pre- 
sent which  would  give  him  more  real  pleasure  than  one 
or  both  of  these  pretty  books.  They  contain  accurate 
descriptions  of  wild  beasts  and  the  manner  of  hunting 
them,  and  are  overflowing  with  sparkling  anecdotes  of 
wild-woods  adventures.  They  are  both  beautifully  bound, 
and  have  pictures  on  nearly  every  page. 

Perhaps  there  is  not  an  intelligent  American  boy  who 
does  not  know  about  the  great  traveller  Mr.  Du  Chaillu,  and 
his  wonderful  adventures  in  Africa,  of  which  country  he 
was  one  of  the  earliest  explorers,  but  all  may  not  know  that 
he  has  prepared  five  small  illustrated  volumes  of  thrilling 
African  adventure  especially  for  boys  and  girls.  Each 
volume  is  sold  separately,  or  they  may  be  bought  all  five 
together  in  a  pretty,  neat  case.  You  can  find  the  titles  of 
these  books  on  another  page  of  the  Christmas  Supplement 
of  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  but  you  can  never  imagine,  until  you 


read  the  books,  the  wonderful  stories  they  contain  of  ad- 
ventures in  great  African  jungles,  of  encounters  with 
savages  and  wild  beasts,  of  strange  birds  and  insects,  and 
other  curious  things  found  in  the  wilderness  of  Africa. 

Another  beautiful  book  for  boys  and  girls  is  What  Mr. 
Danrin  Sail'.  Mr.  Darwin  was  a  distinguished  natural- 
ist. About  fifty  years  ago  he  sailed  round  the  world  in 
the  ship  Beagle,  and  on  his  return  he  wrote  about  the 
geography,  the  inhabitants,  and  the  natural  history  of  all 
the  strange  countries  he  visited.  This  volume,  which 
Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers  publish  expressly  for  children, 
contains  extracts  from  Mr.  Darwin's  large  work,  about 
all  kinds  of  things  interesting  to  little  readers.  There 
are  maps  and  charts  on  which  you  can  trace  the  route 
followed  by  Mr.  Darwin  in  his  travels  round  the  world, 
and  pictures  of  many  curious  things  which  he  saw. 

ir«//".s  Wild  Animals  is  a  large  and  very  handsome 
book,  containing  twenty  beautiful  full-page  engravings 
from  drawings  made  by  Mr.  Wolf,  an  artist  who  loved  all 
wild  creatures.  There  is  an  interesting  description  of  each 
picture,  with  anecdotes  of  the  birds  and  beasts  represented. 

The  study  of  history,  especially  of  our  own  country,  is 
of  the  greatest  importance,  but  how  often  boys  and  girls 
find  the  subject  wearisome  because  they  do  not  have  books 
written  in  an  interesting  style,  such  as  young  folks  enjoy ! 
There  are  four  beautiful  books  of  history  written  by  Mr. 
Charles  Carleton  Coffin,  and  if  you  begin  to  read  anyone 
of  them  you  will  never  stop  until  you  reach  the  end  of 
the  last  page,  for  no  story-book  was  ever  more  fascinating. 
Grown -up  people  like  to  read  them  too.  And  it  is  no 
wonder,  for  they  tell  about  things  of  the  greatest  interest, 
are  full  of  sparkling  anecdotes,  and  contain  a  large  num- 
ber of  nice  pictures.  One  of  these  books  is  called  The 
Story  of  Liberty.  Just  stop  a  moment,  American  boys 
and  girls,  and  think  what  that  means.  Do  you  know  all 
the  sacrifice  and  all  the  suffering  which  the  blessed  liber- 
ty you  enjoy  has  cost  the  world  ?  If  you  read  this  book, 
you  will  learn  about  some  of  it.  It  tells  how  one  of  the 
first  great  struggles  for  liberty  took  place  in  England  more 
than  six  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  when  the  people 
forced  King  John  to  sign  the  Magna  Charta,  which  was 
the  foundation  of  free  government;  and  it  gives  the  his- 
tory of  Luther  and  other  great  men  who  have  fought  for 
truth  and  right  in  different  countries.  The  three  other 
books  by  Mr.  Coffin  tell  the  story  of  our  own  United  States 
of  America.  One  is  Old  Times  in  the  Colonies.  It  de- 
scribes the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims,  the  dreadful  Indian 
wars,  and  the  struggles  of  our  brave  forefathers  before  the 
time  of  the  Revolution.  Another  volume  is  The  Boys  of 
'76,  and  is  a  most  fascinating  history  of  the  battles  of  the 
great  Revolutionary  war.  The  last  of  Mr.  Coffin's  books 
is  called  Building  the  Nation,  and  tells  how  the  people 
went  to  work  after  the  Revolution  to  make  a  Constitution 
and  organize  a  republican  government.  It  brings  United 
States  history  down  through  the  war  of  1812  and  the 
Mexican  war  to  the  time  when  the  troubles  between  the 
North  and  the  South  began. 

A  pretty  book,  which  must  not  escape  your  notice,  is 
Games  and  Songs  of  American  Children,  collected  by 
Mr.  Newell.  It  tells  about  a  great  many  games,  and 
gives  the  music  of  "Water,  Water,  Wild  Flower,"  and  oth- 
er little  tunes  which  children  like  to  sing.  Neir  Games 
for  Parlor  and  Lawn  is  also  a  very, nice  book,  which 
gives  many  directions  for  winter  evening  sports. 

For  young  readers  who  love  poetry  there  is  a  lovely 
book  called  Our  Children's  Songs,  in  which  may  be  found 
poems  by  the  best  authors  for  very  little  folks,  and  for 
older  ones  too.  Young  Folks'  Centennial  Rhymes,  by 
Will  Carleton,  is  also  a  pretty  book  of  poetry,  with  some 
spirited  ballads  on  Revolutionary  incidents — just  the  thing 
for  speaking  in  school. 

There  are  many  pretty  story-books,  all  handsomely 
bound  and  illustrated.  A  very  beautiful  one,  with 


OCTOBER  30,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


835 


charming  pictures  by  Alfred  Fredericks,  is  The  Catxkill 
Fairies,  by  Miss  Johnson,  which  tells  about  all  the  won- 
derful things  that  happened  to  Job  while  he  was  asleep 
all  alone  at  grandpa's  during  a  terrible  snow-storm. 

Some  lovely  fairy  stories  are  The  Little  Lame  Prince 
and  The  Adventures  of  a  Brownie,  by  Miss  Mulock;  and 
The  Princess  Idleways,  by  Mrs.  Hays,  a  delightful  story  j 
of  a  little  girl  who  learned  the  secret  of  finding  her  own 
happiness  in  that  of  others. 

A  fascinating  story  for  boys  is  The  Four  Macnicolx.  by 
the celebrated  author  William  Black,  in  which  four  Scotch 
boys  fight  their  way  from  poverty  to  comfort  by  perse- 
verance and  honesty. 

If  you  like  a  very  funny  story  which  will  make  you 
laugh,  get  Diddle,  Dumps,  and  Tot,  and  read  about  some 
children  who  lived  on  a  Southern  plantation,  with  queer 
little  darkies  for  playmates,  and  had  all  kinds  of  childish 
fun  and  trouble. 

Then  there  are  all  the  stories  many  of  yoli  have  enjoyed 
in  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  "Toby  Tyler,"  "  Mr.  Stubbs's  Brother," 
"  The  Moral  Pirates,"an.l  manyothers,  all  bound  in  pretty 
volumes,  just  the  size  for  your  little  hands  to  hold  easily. 

Now  think  carefully  about  all  these  pretty  books  you 
have  read  about,  and  consult  with  mamma  before  you 
make  a  selection.  And  while  you  are  thinking  about 
yourselves,  do  not  forget  your  little  friends,  and  always 
be  sure  to  remember  poor  children,  who  are  also  Christ's 
dear  little  ones,  and  consider  that  they  too  need  books 
and  pretty  things  as  well  as  food  and  warm  clothing. 
Keep  all  this  in  mind,  and  do  not  neglect  to  act  as  well  as 
think.  Then  you  will  be  ready  for  what  YOUNG  PEOPLE 
wishes  you  all  most  heartily,  a  very  Merry  Christmas. 


JACOB  ABBOTT  AS  A  STORY-TELLER. 

BY  MRS.  MARGARET  E.  SANGSTER. 

MY  first  impression  of  Jacob  Abbott's  charm  as  a  story- 
teller takes  me  back  to  a  winter's  day  in  my  child- 
hood. My  mother  and  I  were  visiting  at  a  house  where 
there  were  few  books  to  interest  a  small  woman  of  ten. 

On  this  particular  day  there  lay  invitingly  on  the  cen- 
tre table  a  m'\v  book  in  a  bright  red  binding.  Of  course 
I  picked  it  up,  read  a  page,  and  then  another  and  another, 
never  pausing,  except  when  called  to  meals,  until  I  had 
finished  the  volume.  The  book  was  the  life  of  King 
Charles  the  Firet.  told  in  the  vivid  fashion  which  made  it 
a  succession  of  pictures.  After  that  I  read  all  the  his- 
torical biographies  of  Mr.  Abbott  with  eager  delight,  and 
there  were  few  of  the  two  hundred  volumes  which  came 
from  the  author's  busy  pen  into  which  sooner  or  later  I 
did  not  dip.  I  believe  the  last  one  I  read  was  Gentle 
Measures  in  the  Management  of  tlie  Young,  which  naugh- 
ty children  should  buy  and  bestow  on  their  parents. 

Mi'.ny  of  Mr.  Abbott's  books  have  had  an  almost  fabu- 
lous circulation.  Some  of  them  have  been  translated  into 
several  languages  besides  our  own.  His  stories  are  pleas- 
ing because  they  are  so  natural.  The  boys  and  girls  in 
the  Rollo  and  Lucy  books  are  just  such  boys  and  girls  as 
we  see  every  day.  The  pleasures  and  temptations  and 
troubles  they  meet  come  to  every  child  at  home  or  in 
school.  The  author's  aim  is  always  to  combine  amuse- 
ment with  instruction,  and  while  entertaining  his  readers, 
he  contrives  to  give'  them  a  great  deal  of  practical  advice 
full  of  common-sense. 

In  the  series  known  as  "  Harper's  Story-Books,"  he  shows 
young  people  how  to  conduct  themselves  when  oil  a  jour- 
ney, how  to  read  to  advantage,  how  to  manage  little  bro- 
thers and  sisters,  how  to  play  together  without  quarrelling, 
how  to  use  tools,  and  how  to  draw  pictures  of  what  they 
wish  to  remember.  His  directions  descend  to  all  sorts  of 
little  details.  For  instance,  Stanley,  a  boy  of  ten,  is  read- 
ing a  beautiful  new  book,  of  which  he  is  very  choice. 
Duric,  his  little  sister,  insists  011  looking  at  the  book,  but 


her  brother  is  not  willing  to  trust  it  to  her,  even  for  a  few 
moments.  He  holds  it  high  above  his  head,  aud  refuses 
either  to  let  her  hold  it  in  her  own  hands  or  to  allow  her 
the  privilege  of  seeing  it  in  his.  By-and-by,  when  he  is 
not  on  guard,  the  naughty  Miss  Dorie  comes  behind  him 
and  snatches  it  away.  In  the  struggle  to  regain  it,  Stan- 
ley tumbles  the  leaves,  and  finally  marches  off  to  his  fa- 
ther to  complain  of  Dorie's  rudeness.  The  father  listens 
patiently,  tells  Dorie  that  she  was  wrong  to  take  what  be- 
longed to  another  without  the  other's  consent,  and  explains 
to  Stanley  that  by  yielding  a  little,  and  being  gentle  and 
persuasive,  he  could  have  avoided  much  of  the  fuss.  Then 
he  takes  the  tumbled  book,  and  says,  "  I  will  dampen  the 
leaves  over  steam,  put  it  under  the  press,  and  make  it  as 
good  as  new  again." 

In  a  story  entitled  The  Three  Gold  Dollars  Mr.  Abbott 
follows  the  fortunes  of  an  orphan  boy  who  leaves  his 
home  in  the  country  to  look  for  work  in  New  York. 
Poor  Robin  has  about  seventy-eight  cents  in  silver,  and 
with  this  money,  which  he  has  been  a  long  time  saving, 
he  proposes  to  go  to  the  great  city.  A  kind-hearted  boy 
who  knows  him  lends  him  three  gold  dollars,  which  for 
safety  the  two  lads  sew  into  a  little  band  of  muslin,  and 
fasten  securely  around  Robin's  arm. 

Robin  was  a  boy  who  could  think  and  act  quickly. 
On  the  way  to  New  York  he  lent  a  helping  hand  to  a 
teamster  in  difficulty,  and  was  repaid  by  a  ride  and  a. 
dinner.  He  rescued  a  boy  who  had  broken  through  the 
ice  while  skating  by  bringing  a  board  from  a  fence  and 
placing  it  so  that  the  boy  could  catch  it  and  be  drawn 
out  of  the  pond.  The  boy's  mother  gave  him  a  night's 
lodging  and  a  good  supper  and  breakfast.  In  the  city  he 
met  with  some  strange  and  exciting  adventures,  and  final- 
ly made  for  himself  a  friend  in  the  person  of  a  lady  whose 
house  he  saved  from  two  fierce  robbers. 

The  plan  of  the  robbers  was  to  unfasten  the  sky-light, 
let  a  small  boy  down  into  the  garret,  and  then  wait  for 
him  to  unhasp  the  scuttle.  Robin,  a  harmless  little  fellow 
from  the  country,  without  money  or  work,  seemed  just 
the  boy  they  needed.  However,  he  was  not  so  stupid  as 
they  thought.  So  soon  as  he  was  safe  in  the  garret  he 
alarmed  the  family,  and  the  men  were  arrested.  From 
this  time  the  little  fellow's  course  was  smooth,  and  his  new 
friends  helped  him  until  he  had  received  a  good  education. 
These  examples  give  you  an  idea  of  Mr.  Abbott's  method. 

He  makes  a  great  point  of  obedience  to  authority,  show- 
ing children  that  they  never  can  be  fit  to  govern  others  un- 
til they  learn  to  obey  their  parents  and  teachers  promptly. 

There  is  one  story  about  a  boy  named  Jasper,  whose 
mother  had  spoiled  him  by  foolish  indulgence.  This 
child  is  sent  011  a  visit  to  his  grandfather,  who  teaches  him 
tli.-it  manly  boys  obey  orders  as  a  matter  of  course,  just  as 
soldiers  mind  the  commanding  officer  on  the  instant. 

One  of  the  best  books  Mr.  Abbott  ever  wrote  was  Tlic 
Young  CJirixtiun.  It  is  not,  as  some  of  you  may  imagine, 
a  grave  and  dry  book  of  sermons.  If  your  pastor  or  some 
dear  friend  should  gather  a  number  of  young  people  about 
him,  and  talk  to  them  of  life  and  duty,  of  this  world  and 
the  next,  of  faults  and  how  to  overcome  them,  and  thesa 
talks  should  be  printed  in  a  volume,  the  result  would  be 
not  unlike  this  series  of  charming  conversations. 

Mr.  Abbott's  works  are  on  various  topics.  They  tell 
about  different  countries  and  ways  of  living,  about  bat- 
tles by  land  and  sea,  about  scientific  pursuits  and  experi- 
ments, and  about  g-reat  discoverers  and  inventors.  In 
fact,  they  form  a  complete  library  "in  which  you  may  read 
of  great  men  and  beautiful  women,  may  stroll  through 
galleries  of  art,  visit  historic  spots,  or  wander  at  your  ease 
around  the  old  farm.  A  set  of  them  will  entertain  the 
children  of  a  household  through  a  series  of  years,  for  they 
can  not  be  exhausted  at  one  reading,  as  merely  amusing 
books  often  are.  They  are  delightful  volumes  for  read- 
ing aloud  to  a  listening  group. 


Painted  by  Annibale  Carracei. 


THE    HOLY    I 


Engraved  by  J.  Bouilliard. 


.MILY. 


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OCTOBER  30,  1SS3. 


HARPER'S  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 


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Abbott's  Marco  Paul  Stories. 

Mareo  PaulV  Voyages  and  Travels  in  the  I'lu-uit  id'  KIKIH  led'.'e. 
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Nan. 

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