Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 29, 1881, by Various
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Title: Harper's Young People, March 29, 1881
An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Release Date: March 23, 2014 [EBook #45194]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MAR 29, 1881 ***
Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE
AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 74. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, March 29, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE MAGIC WAND--"THERE'S SOMETHING IN THERE."--[SEE NEXT
PAGE.]]
THE MAGIC WAND.
A STORY OF OLD WILMINGTON.
BY HOWARD PYLE.
In the good old days of the city of Wilmington, some seventy or eighty
years ago, there lived a couple in that quaint little Quaker town by the
name of Vertz, better known as Dutch Dolly and her husband.
Dutch Dolly had a truck patch wherein she raised vegetables--peas,
radishes, potatoes, and beans--supplying the better part of the town
with such produce. Her husband was a tailor, and is described in the
chronicles of the town as sitting cross-legged on his bench opposite the
window that looked out on the stony street.
Dutch Dolly was a woman of much importance of demeanor, and is described
as being the admiration of the rising generation when, on a fair-day or
holiday, she appeared in "a black velvet hood, a bodice of the same, a
petticoat of superior blue cloth, the whole dress trimmed with gold-lace
and two rows of gold-fringe on the skirt." But Tailor Vertz was as puny
and insignificant as his helpmate was large and imposing. Dutch Dolly
attended to her husband's business, collected his bills for him, and
took such good care of his money that the poor little fellow was driven
to many an odd shift to get a stray cent or fip[1] to buy him a pinch of
rappee or a small glass of strong waters to comfort his inner man. One
of his means for gaming small contributions was by telling fortunes,
which he did by the aid of astrology, knowing a great many stars, from
Aldebaran downward. For those who consulted him, chiefly serving-maids
and very young girls, he drew mysterious signs of the heavens, in which
the sun, moon, and stars were represented in miraculous conjunction. But
with all his faults, with all his cloudy reputation among the good folk,
Tailor Vertz was a merry, chipper little fellow, and though not entirely
trustworthy, had as blithe a heart as any in Wilmington. He was a great
favorite with the boys; he could whistle as sweetly as a robin, he could
sing numberless ballads and songs in his queer piping voice, and had a
knack of whittling little trinkets out of wood, which he sold, thus
turning an odd penny from his young friends.
There were two boy friends especially, Ned Springer and Billy Shallcross
by name, who were fond of loitering at odd times in the dusty, musty
little shop. They looked upon the tailor as one of the wisest of men,
and would listen by the hour to his stories of wonderful adventures, of
perils he had escaped, of magic books he had read, and of the wonders of
his black-art, believing everything with the utmost sincerity; for boys
were much more credulous then than they are nowadays. The little tailor
delighted especially to talk of his mysterious art, and often bewailed
himself that he had never been able to find a branch of witch-willow,
which had such properties that he could with it tell wherever secret
treasure lay buried. He generally spoke of this witch-willow in
connection with old Jan Judson's house.
Jan Judson was an old Swede of a generation preceding that of which we
are speaking. So far as trustworthy narratives tell of him, he appears
to have been only an eccentric, miserly old bachelor. A very heavy
thunderstorm which passed over the region in which Jan lived struck his
house with lightning, and it was burned to the ground, all that was left
being a tall stone chimney and a pile of stones. Whether it was the
effect of the electricity, or merely the shock of losing his property
that affected the owner, certain it is that the old Swede, though
rescued from the flames, died a day or two after the accident. Of course
the occurrence gave rise to many weird stories connected with old Jan
Judson. It was said that ONE had appeared to him in fire and flame to
carry him off bodily, and all agreed that he had left great wealth
behind. Treasure-hunters had dug in the cellar, and had turned over the
stones, but had found nothing; or, if they had, had said nothing about
it.
One bright afternoon the two boys entered the shop of Tailor Vertz, whom
they found sitting cross-legged on his bench, with one finger touching
his forehead, apparently sunk in deep meditation--a position which he
had assumed when he heard the boys approaching. He held up his hand to
them to enjoin silence, and they stood looking at him, a little
awe-struck and very much wondering. At last he roused himself, and,
looking cautiously, beckoned them to draw near.
"I haf foundt it," said he, in a mysterious tone.
"Found what?"
"Hush!--de vitch-villow."
"The witch-willow?"
"Yes, de vitch-villow. I haf foundt it town in de marsh. Look!" And he
drew forth a slender osier twig that he had cut and peeled the day
before.
"Then you'll be rich, won't you?" said Ned Springer, excitedly. "All
you've got to do is to walk around and to find treasure."
Tailor Vertz shook his head sadly. "I am like many creat mens," said he;
"I haf foundt creat tings, but I lack von tings."
"What's that?"
"Money. If I had von quarter of a tollar, I vas all right. I must coot a
leetle hole into de vitch-villow, and melt some silfer and bour into it,
and den it is magics."
"Why don't you get somebody to lend you a quarter?" said Billy.
"Dat's vot I vants to do," said Tailor Vertz. "Now I tells you vot I do.
To-morrow's Plack Imp's Night--"
"Black Imp's Night! what's that?" interrupted Ned.
"Shust vait, and I tells you. To-morrow's Plack Imp's Night, de fery
night de vitch-villow's able to findt de moneys. Now I am fondt of you
poys: you lend me a quarter of a tollar to melt and run in de hole I
coots in de vitch-villow, and I gifs you de first lot of moneys vot ve
findt."
"But suppose you don't find any?" said Ned, dubiously.
"Of course I findt some," said Tailor Vertz, indignantly. "Didn't I
tells you I foundt a pranch of vitch-villow?" Then, in a reproachful
manner: "I didn't tinks you vouldn't peliefe me--me, as alvays tells you
de trut'. Nefer mind. I goes to somepody else and gets a quarter of a
tollar; somepodies as tinks I'm honest."
"Of course we think you're honest," spoke up Billy. "If I had a quarter
of a dollar I'd lend it to you. I've only got a levy. How much have you
got, Ned?"
"Only a fip. Maybe I can get another from Aunt Catherine, though."
"Very vells," said the little man, climbing rather hastily back on the
bench, for he thought he heard his wife coming--"very vells; put pring
de quarter to-night, else I get it from somepodies."
The boys were all excitement and interest. They laid out so many plans
for the spending of their wealth--when they should get it--and built so
many castles in the air, that they wound themselves up to a thorough
pitch of enthusiasm. That night they brought the tailor the quarter of a
dollar. He pocketed the money, made an appointment with them for the
next night to go treasure-hunting, and, after they were gone, melted
some lead and poured it into a hole in the willow wand for the sake of
appearances.
The next night the three met at a paling fence at the foot of Stalcop's
lot; the tailor brought his magic wand, Billy Shallcross a lantern, and
Ned Springer a crowbar for turning over the stones.
As the three walked along, Tailor Vertz beguiled the way with stories of
the departed Swede, and how his ghost still haunted the ruins--how it
was apt to appear to treasure-hunters, laying its grisly hand upon them
at the very moment of finding the sought-for treasure, until the very
hearts of his listeners quaked with dread. Probably they would willingly
have sacrificed their hopes of treasure and turned back, but neither of
them liked to propose such a measure. The lantern cast a ghostly
flitting light on the fence posts and trees as they walked along, and so
drew near the ruined house, the chimney of which stood black against the
sky.
"Now dere is von tings to remember," said Tailor Vertz, as they stood on
the shapeless pile of stones that marked the ruin. He spoke
impressively. "Now dere is von tings to remember. From de moment de
stick pegins to p'int, you mustn't speak von vord, for shoost as soon as
you do--poof!--de magics all goes out of de stick, de silfer turns into
lead, and de treasure all melt like ice on a hot stove. If you see a
ghost, den mind, shoost don't pay no notice to him, but go on vorkings,
and say nodings. Are you ready?"
"Suppose you take the crowbar, and I'll hold the lantern," said Billy.
"No, I've carried it all the way, and I'm tired," said Ned.
They both thought there was less danger from the ghost to the one that
held the lantern than to the one that laid a hand on his buried
treasure. However, it was finally determined that Ned should begin, and
work until he was tired, and then Billy should take a turn. The tailor
stepped forward, holding the wand by the middle between his finger and
thumb. In this way the slightest movement of the fingers would direct
it. The boys watched him with the most intense interest. The willow wand
moved slowly this way and that, and finally pointed toward a great beam
that reached across the chimney just over the fire-place, thus
indicating it as the place where a treasure must be. The boys approached
cautiously, Billy holding the lantern, and Ned firmly grasping the
crowbar, both wrought up to a high pitch of nervous excitement, while
the tailor stood a little back from them. It was a hopeless-looking
piece of work for two boys to remove such a beam, so imbedded in the
stone and mortar, and probably that was why the tailor had selected it.
Ned struck the crowbar between the stones just under the beam, but it
was a quarter of an hour's job to loosen the first stone, which was very
large; but finally it came, and then another. Then Ned, whose face was
beaded with perspiration, handed the crowbar to Billy. By this time they
were beginning to regain their courage. Billy examined the chimney
carefully, and seeing a stone looser than the rest, just over the beam,
determined to begin the attack in that quarter; so he stuck the crowbar
between that stone and the next, and began to prize. In the mean time,
Tailor Vertz had grown tired, and determined to hasten matters;
accordingly, just as the stone was loosening, he gave an unearthly
groan.
"What's that?" cried Billy, and let go of the crowbar. It fell clanking
on the stones, and with it fell the stone he was loosening. The groan,
and the noise of the falling of the crowbar and the stone, frightened
Ned so that he dropped the lantern; and the boys, leaping over the pile
of stones, fled up the road like frightened deer, closely followed by
the tailor, who was scarcely less frightened than they were. At length
they stopped, and stood panting about a hundred yards up the road.
"Ach! mein Himmel!" cried Tailor Vertz, stamping his foot, "what you
speak for? You have shpoilt all de magic of de vitch-villow. Vy did you
not hold your tongue?"
"Did you hear that groan?" said Billy, in an awful voice.
"It must have been the ghost," said Ned. Then, in a very loud voice, "I
don't want the money anyhow," cried he.
"But you dropped father's lantern back there."
"Well, you dropped my father's crowbar. It was you that scared me,
dropping it, so you ought to go back for it."
Finally they concluded that all three should go, for company's sake.
They approached the spot very cautiously, the tailor, who had no further
reason for frightening them, encouraging them to proceed, but himself
keeping a little back, as he was secretly much afraid of ghosts. Luckily
for their fears, the candle in the lantern had not gone out, but had
burned as it fell, guttering the tallow, and running it over the glass
of the lantern. Billy picked it up, and the light flashed out more
brightly. Ned also picked up his crowbar, and they turned to leave, when
Billy cast a glance at the hole whence the stone he had been working at
had fallen.
"Stop," he cried, suddenly; "what's this?"
"What's what?" said Ned.
"There's something in there."
"Dere? where?" said the tailor, pressing forward.
They all three looked in the hole; then Billy thrust in his hand, and
drew out a small wooden box. It was crumbling with dry-rot, and without
much effort he broke off the lid with his fingers. The boys could
scarcely believe their eyes. Ned sprang from the ground and gave a
shout. The box was full of money. They were chiefly copper coins and
small silver pieces; still, it was a treasure to the boys.
All this time Tailor Vertz had been standing with staring eyes and open
mouth. He was amazed, thunder-struck, dumfounded, that he, who had been
deceiving the boys with juggling tricks, should have actually showed
them a real treasure. All of a sudden it came over him with a rush that
he had deliberately led the boys to this spot, and placed their very
hands, as it were, upon all this money. He felt as though it had been
taken from his own pocket, and burst out in a sudden torrent of words,
scolding and stamping his feet in such a way that the boys stood amazed.
"What's the matter?" they cried.
"Vat's de matter?" shouted the tailor, beating his breast--"vat's de
matter? Oh, Vertz! you fool! you fool! Oh, if I'd only known it vas
dere!--if I'd only known it vas dere! To go empty it out of my pockets
into yours! Bah! I might er had it all myself."
"But didn't you know it was there? Didn't the witch-willow tell you so?"
said Billy.
"Vitch-villow! Oh, you yank! vat's a vitch-villow but to fool such
tunces as you?"
"Then you were only fooling us, were you?" said Billy.
The tailor began to cool down somewhat at that, and entered on a long
explanation, in which he got very much involved.
"All very well," said Billy; "but tell us now, up and down, fair and
square, did you know anything about the money being there?"
The little tailor looked at him doubtfully for a while.
"Vell," said he, hesitatingly, "no-o, I didn't, and dat's de trut'."
Both boys burst into a laugh.
"Well," said Billy, "share and share alike anyhow; that's fair."
However, they deducted the quarter-dollar from Tailor Vertz's share.
Billy's share was six dollars and twenty-three cents, Ned's six dollars
and twenty-two cents, and Tailor Vertz's five dollars and ninety-seven
cents, with which he expressed himself perfectly satisfied.
Forever after this adventure Dutch Dolly's husband was more careful
about telling the boys of the mysteries of his art; and when he would
get on the subject, Billy was apt to slyly remind him of the magic
wand.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A _fip_ (the fivepenny bit of Pennsylvania currency) was a silver
piece of the value of six and a quarter cents. A _levy_ (a similar
contraction for the elevenpenny bit) was twelve and a half cents in
value. A few stray fips and levies still appear occasionally from old
hordes of silver, but only pass now for dimes and half-dimes.
MOUNTAIN-PEAKS.
[Illustration: AMONG THE ALPS.]
When the world was comparatively young, and people were contented with
legends and myths concerning the wonders of creation, just as children
like fairy stories, it was the common belief that mountains were the
work of gods and genii, who hurled them down from heaven, and allowed
them to fall by chance, or else raised them as mighty pillars destined
to bear the vaults of the skies. The Titans, who were not gods, threw
down all the mountains of Thessaly in order to use them again for
building up the ramparts round Olympus. Another story is that a giantess
of the North had filled her apron with little hills, and dropped them at
certain distances that she might recognize her way. And still another,
from the other end of the earth, is that Vishnu, one day, seeing a young
girl asleep beneath the sun's too ardent rays, took up a mountain, and
held it poised upon his finger-tips to shelter the beautiful sleeper.
This, the legend tells us, was the origin of sun-shades. Nor was it even
always necessary for gods and giants to lift up the mountains in order
to remove them; the latter obeyed a mere sign. Stones hastened to listen
to the strains of Orpheus's lyre; mountains stood erect to hear Apollo.
It was thus that Helicon, the home of the Muses, took its birth.
Strange as are these stories, they are no more wonderful than the actual
fact that, under the direction of the Creator, the two great giants Fire
and Water have been and still are at work constructing mountains,
slowly, it is true, and not by any sudden upheaval, as the lovers of the
marvellous would have it to be, but none the less surely.
While wandering over the surface of the globe, and carefully observing
its natural phenomena, we see that mountains are the slow growth of
ages. When an insular or continental mass some hundreds or thousands of
yards high receives rain in abundance, its slopes gradually become
indented with ravines, dales, valleys; the uniform surface of the
plateau is cut into peaks, ridges, pyramids; scooped out into
amphitheatres, basins, precipices; systems of mountains appear by
degrees wherever the level ground has rolled down to any enormous
extent. In addition to these external causes which change plateaus into
mountains, slow transformations in the interior of the earth are also
being accomplished, bringing about vast excavations. Those hard-working
men who, hammer in hand, go about for many years among the mountains in
order to study their form and structure, observe in the lower beds of
marine formation, which constitute the non-crystalline portion of the
mountains, gigantic rents or fissures extending thousands of yards in
length. Masses millions of yards thick have been completely raised up
again by these shocks, or turned as completely upside down, so that what
was formerly the surface has now become the bottom. And in this way have
been revealed the crystalline rocks. Plication, or folding, is also an
important feature in the history of the earth. By this process,
subjected to slow pressure, the rock, the clay, the layers of sandstone,
the veins of metal, have all been folded up like a piece of cloth, and
the folds thus formed become mountains and valleys.
One of the most interesting features in the study of mountains is the
discovery of fossils, by which the naturalist accurately determines the
age of rocks. Millions of these remains of animal and vegetable life
have been preserved. Of course the tissues of flesh and drops of blood
or sap are gone, but in their stead are particles of stone which have
kept the form, and sometimes even the color, of the creature destroyed.
Within the thickness of these stones are shells of mollusks, disks,
spheres, spines, cylinders in astounding numbers; we see the skeletons
of fish with their fins and scales, the wing-sheaths of insects, and
even foot-prints; upon the hard rock, too, which was formerly the
shifting sand of the beach, we find the impression of drops of rain, and
the intersecting ripple marks traced by wavelets on the shore. These
fossils, which lived millions of years ago in the mud of oceanic
abysses, are now met at every mountain height. They are to be seen on
most of the Pyrenees, they constitute whole Alps, they are recognized
upon the Caucasus and Cordilleras.
The wealth contained in mountains in the shape of silver and gold ore
and precious stones has ever been, like the magic thread of the
labyrinth, leading miners and geologists into the depths of their
caverns. Formerly it was supposed to be an easy matter to reach these
riches. All that a man needed was what is called "luck" and the favor of
the gods. Boldly seizing some opportunity, such as the rolling away of a
stone from a crevice, he had but to mutter some magic words, creep into
a dark passage, and find himself beneath a vaulted roof of crystals and
diamonds; he needed but to stoop and gather the rubies beneath his feet.
Not by chance and magic do the miners of our day reach the rich veins of
minerals. Study and hard work are behind all the engineering skill which
penetrates our mountains.
When the summer is here, and you go forth with merry hearts and stout
staves to climb some "Saddleback" or "Mount Tom," just stop and think of
all the wonderful things which happen to make a mountain; and as you
glance up its wooded sides, and see the clouds resting upon its summit,
or behold the purple hues of evening gathering about its majestic form,
remember "the hand that made it is Divine."
[Begun in No. 58 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, December 7.]
TOBY TYLER;
OR, TEN WEEKS WITH A CIRCUS.
BY JAMES OTIS.
CHAPTER XVI.
TOBY'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN THE RING.
When the circus entered the town which had been selected as the place
where Toby was to make his début as a circus rider, the boy noticed a
new poster among the many glaring and gaudy bills which set forth the
varied and many attractions that were to be found under one canvas for a
trifling admission fee, and he noticed it with some degree of interest,
not thinking for a moment that it had any reference to him.
It was printed very much as follows:
MADEMOISELLE JEANNETTE
AND
MONSIEUR AJAX,
two of the youngest equestrians in the world, will perform their
graceful, dashing, and daring act entitled
THE TRIUMPH OF THE INNOCENTS.
This is the first appearance of these daring young riders together
since their separation in Europe last season, and their performance
in this town will have a new and novel interest. See
MADEMOISELLE JEANNETTE
AND
MONSIEUR AJAX.
"Look there!" said Toby to Ben, as he pointed out the poster, which was
printed in very large letters with gorgeous coloring, and surmounted by
a picture of two very small people performing all kinds of impossible
feats on horseback. "They've got some one else to ride with Ella to-day.
I wonder who it can be?"
Ben looked at Toby for a moment, as if to assure himself that the boy
was in earnest in asking the question, and then he relapsed into the
worst fit of silent laughing that Toby had ever seen. After he had quite
recovered, he asked: "Don't you know who Monsieur Ajax is? Hain't you
never seen him?"
"No," replied Toby, at a loss to understand what there was so very funny
in his very natural question. "I thought that I was goin' to ride with
Ella."
"Why, that's you," almost screamed Ben, in delight. "Monsieur Ajax means
you, didn't you know it? You don't suppose they would go to put 'Toby
Tyler' on the bills, do you? How it would look!--'Mademoiselle Jeannette
an' Monsieur Toby Tyler.'"
Ben was off in one of his laughing spells again, and Toby sat there,
stiff and straight, hardly knowing whether to join in the mirth or to
get angry at the sport which had been made of his name.
"I don't care," he said at length. "I'm sure I think Toby Tyler sounds
just as well as Monsieur Ajax, an' I'm sure it fits me a good deal
better."
"That may be," said Ben, soothingly; "but you see it wouldn't go down so
well with the public. They want furrin riders, an' they must have 'em,
even if it does spoil your name."
Despite the fact that he did not like the new name that had been given
him, Toby could not but feel pleased at the glowing terms in which his
performance was set off; but he did not at all relish the lie that was
told about his having been with Ella in Europe, and he would have been
very much better pleased if that portion of it had been left off.
During that forenoon he did not go near Mr. Lord nor his candy stand,
for Mr. Castle kept him and Ella busily engaged in practicing the feat
which they were to perform in the afternoon, and it was almost time for
the performance to begin before they were allowed even to go to their
dinner.
Ella, who had performed several years, was very much more excited over
the coming début than Toby was, and the reason why he did not show more
interest was probably because of his great desire to leave the circus as
soon as possible, and during that forenoon he thought very much more of
how he should get back to Guilford and Uncle Daniel than he did of how
he should get along when he stood before the audience.
Mr. Castle assisted his pupil to dress, and when that was done to his
entire satisfaction, he said, in a stern voice, "Now you can do this act
all right, and if you slip up on it, and don't do it as you ought to,
I'll give you such a whipping when you come out of the ring that you'll
think Job was only fooling with you when he tried to whip you."
Toby had been feeling reasonably cheerful before this, but these words
dispelled all his cheerful thoughts, and he was looking most
disconsolate when old Ben came into the dressing tent.
"All ready, are you, my boy?" said the old man, in his cheeriest voice.
"Well, that's good, an' you look as nice as possible. Now remember what
I told you last night, Toby, an' go in there to do your level best, an'
make a name for yourself. Come out here with me, an' wait for the young
lady."
These cheering words of Ben's did Toby as much good as Mr. Castle's had
the reverse, and as he stepped out of the dressing-room to the place
where the horses were being saddled, Toby resolved that he would do his
very best that afternoon, if for no other reason than to please his old
friend.
Toby was not naturally what might be called a pretty boy, for his short
red hair and his freckled face prevented any great display of beauty;
but he was a good, honest-looking boy, and in his tasteful costume he
looked very nice indeed--so nice, that could Mrs. Treat have seen him
just then, she would have been very proud of her handiwork, and hugged
him harder than ever.
He had not been waiting but a few moments when Ella came from her
dressing-room, and Toby was very much pleased when he saw by the
expression of her face that she was perfectly satisfied with his
appearance.
"We'll both do just as well as we can," she whispered to him, "and I
know the people will like us, and make us come back after we get
through. And if they do, mamma says she'll give each one of us a gold
dollar."
She had taken hold of Toby's hand as she spoke, and her manner was so
earnest and anxious that Toby was more excited than he ever had been
about his début; and had he gone into the ring just at that moment, the
chances are that he would have surprised even his teacher by his riding.
"I'll do just as well as I can," said Toby, in reply to his little
companion, "an' if we earn the dollars, I'll have a hole bored in mine,
an' you shall wear it around your neck to remember me by."
"I'll remember you without that," she whispered, "and I'll give you
mine, so that you shall have so much the more when you go to your home."
There was no time for further conversation, for Mr. Castle entered just
then to tell them that they must go in in another moment. The horses
were all ready--a black one for Toby, and a white one for Ella--and they
stood champing their bits and pawing the earth in their impatience,
until the silver bells with which they were decorated rang out quick,
nervous little chimes that accorded very well with Toby's feelings.
Ella squeezed Toby's hand as they stood waiting for the curtain to be
raised that they might enter, and he had just time to return it when the
signal was given, and almost before he was aware of it they were
standing in the ring, kissing their hands to the crowds that packed the
enormous tent to its utmost capacity.
Thanks to the false announcement about the separation of the children in
Europe and their reunion in this particular town, the applause was long
and loud, and before it had died away, Toby had had time to recover a
little from the queer feeling which this sea of heads gave him.
He had never seen such a crowd before, except as he had seen them as he
walked around at the foot of the seats, and then they had simply looked
like so many human beings; but as he saw them now from the ring, they
appeared like strange rows of heads without bodies, and he had hard work
to keep from running back behind the curtain from whence he had come.
Mr. Castle acted as the ring-master this time, and after he had
introduced them, very much after the fashion of the posters, and the
clown had repeated some funny joke, the horses were led in, and they
were assisted to mount.
"Don't mind the people at all," said Mr. Castle, in a low voice, "but
ride just as if you were alone here with me."
[Illustration: MADEMOISELLE JEANNETTE AND MONSIEUR AJAX.]
The music struck up, the horses cantered around the ring, and Toby had
really started as a circus rider.
"Remember," said Ella to him, in a low tone, just as the horses started,
"you told me that you would ride just as well as you could, and we must
earn the dollars mamma promised."
It seemed to Toby at first as if he could not stand up; but by the time
they had ridden around the ring once, and Ella had cautioned him again
against making any mistake, for the sake of the money which they were
going to earn, he was calm and collected enough to carry out his part of
the programme quite as well as if he had been simply taking a lesson.
The act consisted in their riding side by side, jumping over banners and
through hoops covered with paper, and then the most difficult portion of
their act began.
The saddles were taken off the horses, and they were to ride first on
one horse and then on the other, until they concluded their performance
by riding twice around the ring side by side, standing on their horses,
each one with a hand on the other's shoulder.
All this was successfully accomplished without a single error, and when
they rode out of the ring, the applause was so great as to leave no
doubt but that they would be recalled, and thus earn the promised money.
In fact, they had hardly got inside the curtain when one of the
attendants called to them, and before they had time even to speak to
each other they were in the ring again, repeating the last portion of
their act.
When they came out of the ring for the second time, they found old Ben,
the skeleton, the fat lady, and Mr. Job Lord waiting to welcome them;
but before any one could say a word, Ella had stood on tiptoe again, and
given Toby just such another kiss as she did when he told her that he
would surely stay long enough to appear in the ring with her once.
"That's because you rode so well, and helped me so much," she said, as
she saw Toby's cheeks growing a fiery red; and then she turned to those
who were waiting to greet her.
Mrs. Treat took her in her enormous arms, and having kissed her, put her
down quickly, and clasped Toby as if he had been a very small walnut,
and her arms a very large pair of nut-crackers.
"Bless the boy!" she exclaimed, as she kissed him again and again, with
an energy and force that made her kisses sound like the crack of a whip,
and caused the horses to stamp in affright. "I knew he'd amount to
something one of these days, an' Samuel an' I had to come out, when
business was dull, just to see how he got along."
It was some time before she would unloose him from her motherly embrace,
and when she did, the skeleton grasped him by the hand, and said, in the
most pompous and effective manner:
"Mr. Tyler, we're proud of you, and when we saw that costume of yours
that my Lilly embroidered with her own hands, we was both proud of it
and what it contained. You're a great rider, my boy, a great rider, and
you'll stand at the head of the profession some day, if you only stick
to it."
"Thank you, sir," was all Toby had time to say before old Ben had him by
the hand, and the skeleton was pouring out his congratulations in little
Miss Ella's ear.
"Toby, my boy, you did well, an' now you'll amount to something if you
only remember what I told you last night," said Ben, as he looked upon
the boy, whom he had come to think of as his protégé, with pride. "I
never seen anybody of your age do any better; an' now, instead of bein'
only a candy peddler, you're one of the stars of the show."
"Thank you, Ben," was all that Toby could say, for he knew that his old
friend meant every word that he said, and it pleased him so much that he
could say no more than "Thank you" in reply.
"I feel as if your triumph was mine," said Mr. Lord, looking benignly at
Toby from out his crooked eye, and assuming the most fatherly tone at
his command; "I have learned to look upon you almost as my own son, and
your success is very gratifying to me."
Toby was not at all flattered by this last praise. If he had never seen
Mr. Lord before, he might, and probably would, have been deceived by his
words; but he had seen him too often, and under too many painful
circumstances, to be at all swindled by his words.
Toby was very much pleased with his success, and by the praise he
received from all, and when the proprietor of the circus came along,
patted him on the head, and told him that he rode very nicely, he was
quite happy, until he chanced to see the greedy twinkle in Mr. Lord's
eye, and then he knew that all this success and all this praise were
only binding him faster to the show which he was so anxious to escape
from; his pleasure vanished very quickly, and in its stead came a
bitter, homesick feeling which no amount of praise could banish.
It was old Ben who helped him to undress after the skeleton and the fat
lady had gone back to their tent, and Ella had gone to dress for her
appearance with her mother, for now she was obliged to ride twice at
each performance. When Toby was in his ordinary clothes again, Ben said:
"Now that you're one of the performers, Toby, you won't have to sell
candy any more, an' you'll have the most of your time to yourself, so
let's you an' I go out an' see the town."
"Don't you s'pose Mr. Lord expects me to go to work for him again
to-day?"
"An' s'posin' he does?" said Ben, with a chuckle. "You don't s'pose the
boss would let any one that rides in the ring stand behind Job Lord's
counter, do you? You can do just as you have a mind to, my boy, an' I
say to you, let's go out an' see the town. What do you say to it?"
"I'd like to go first-rate, if I dared to," replied Toby, thinking of
the many whippings he had received for far less than that which Ben now
proposed he should do.
"Oh, I'll take care that Job don't bother you, so come along;" and Ben
started out of the tent, and Toby followed, feeling considerably
frightened at this first act of disobedience against his old master.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
A HERO IN SEVEN PIECES.
BY MARY A. BARR.
By hammer and hand,
All arts do stand.
And so I thought, the other day, when I found myself in an art foundry
in Twenty-fifth Street, New York. There was a terrible noise, and at
first I thought I was in a smithy; but, children, I soon found out it
was only the workman seaming together a hero's coat.
Most of you know all about this hero, and just the part he played in the
history of our country; but because many of you have read carelessly
that page of your history, and for the sake of those who have forgotten,
or have never read it, let me tell you something about him before we go
back to Twenty-fifth Street, and the 1000-pound bronze statue of our
hero, whom every true-hearted American remembers with honest pride.
He was one of seven young men who captured a very famous spy. Now there
have been many famous spies, so don't guess in a hurry. He was three
times a prisoner in New York; twice he escaped; the second time only
four days before he saved his country a mortal blow; and the third time
he was released by the peace.
Congress gave him an annuity of two hundred dollars a year for life, a
silver medal, on one side of which was a shield, inscribed "Fidelity,"
and on the other the motto, "Vincit Amor Patriæ"; and New York gave him
a farm, and also, in 1827, erected a marble monument in a churchyard two
miles from Peekskill.
He died at Yorktown in 1818, when he was fifty-nine years old; but he
will always live in the memory of his countrymen. So it was with a great
deal of reverence I touched the bronzed hand, and pictured to myself
that he was alive, and just about to step forward and give the order to
"Stand!"
But that was after the workman had fastened a rope and chain around his
waist, and by means of a pully lifted him upright on the pedestal, for
my first glimpse of him was lying on his side with a little black-eyed
Italian hammering away at the seam which I spoke of. For our hero was
cast in seven pieces, and these pieces are put together with brass
nails, and then the seams hammered smooth.
The sculptor of the statue being present, offered to take me through the
foundry, and so I followed him, meeting a part of our hero at every
turn.
Here his head and shoulders, there his gun, over yonder his arm, and
lying right at my feet one of his hands, and in the corner his feet and
legs, which one of the workmen told me they had cast one evening at half
past six, by the glare of the furnaces, which threw great shadows across
everything, and made it like a dream with the reality of heat and noise.
But these were only the plaster moulds, taken from the sculptor's model
in clay, and I passed them with only a glance, for I knew the splendid
whole would make up for these broken pieces.
Many of you have been in a foundry, and can easily picture to yourselves
the great oven for baking the clay moulds in; the banks of sand; the
furnaces down in the ground and on a level with the floor, with iron
beams high above on which the pots for melting the metal in are hung;
the enormous tongs and hooks; the troughs of water; half-finished work;
the workman's tools; and men bending over work that seems too beautiful
to come out of such chaos and from such rough material.
From the foundry I went up to the sculptor's studio on the third floor,
in the front of the building. Now, children, this is a real place, and
if any of you ever come to New York, you can go and see it, for the
artist is a very good-natured man, and is always glad to see pleasant
company.
What a place it would have been to play in! Oh, what fun I should have
had calling on Miss Venus! and what a splendid coachman Apollo would
have made! and the sailor lad we would have all claimed; and the girl
with the shawl over her head would have been the soldier's sweetheart.
But what would the sculptor have thought if he had known what use I was
putting his beautiful works to? and so, my dears, let us play that all
this has been said in a whisper, while he is dusting a chair for me, and
go back to the studio as it really is.
To begin with, there was no carpet on the floor, and no paper on the
walls, but a beautiful pier looking-glass without a frame leaned against
the brick wall, and innumerable reliefs in plaster, photographs of
people and places, an old army suit, and several costumes which the
sculptor used in draping his model, hung in splendid confusion
everywhere. One side of the room was of wood painted a dark brown, and
over this the artist had drawn Cupids, angels, flowers, flags, and all
kinds of beautiful designs in white. There was a stove in the room, and
two or three chairs that needed constant dusting; several easels stood
about, and at one a German artist, in a checked blouse or old-fashioned
apron, was working on a beautiful relief, which told the story of a
young farmer leaving home for the war. The artist said it was for a
soldiers' monument in Massachusetts. Near him stood a bucket of water
with a sponge in it, and every little while he would wet the clay he was
working with.
A great many busts and statuettes of all kinds stood in every
conceivable place--on tables, pedestals, and shelves; and on one shelf
was the bust of a famous New York belle and the statuettes of a horse
and cow, visitors' cards, photographs of famous actors and artists, old
letters, and in a table glass a bouquet of roses and lilies that some
one had sent to the sculptor that morning. While we were talking, the
sculptor's model came in; that is, the man who stands for his figures,
so that the artist may catch the proper motion of the body.
I had spent an hour very pleasantly in this queer, mussy place, and as
it was growing dark, I was forced to say good-by to Miss Venus, and the
Boy in Blue, and my new-found friend the German artist; but I took away
with me many pleasant memories, and I hope I have interested my little
readers enough for them to turn to the history of the Revolution, and
tell me who our hero is. Many of you have already guessed, but I should
like some of you to tell me his name, and if I have forgotten anything
about him. Will you?
IN, OUT OF THE STORM.
It is high time that the poor little lamb was taken in, out of the
storm, is it not, my young readers? The artist says that when he made
the sketch from which this picture was drawn, the season was late in
March, and the weather for a few days had been so warm that the children
in the farm-house where he was staying thought old Winter had surely
gone. He was still there, however, and to prove his presence he sent one
of his very worst storms of snow and sleet, that lasted all day, and
made people think that the almanacs were wrong, and that the month must
be January instead of March.
[Illustration: THE RESCUED LAMB.--DRAWN BY W. M. CARY.]
In the midst of this storm, as the children were looking out of the
window, and wondering if summer ever would come, they saw their father
walking from the barn with something in his arms, and followed by their
old pet sheep Mana. As their father came near, the children saw that he
held a dear little lamb in his arms; and when he got into the house he
told them that Mana was its mother, and that it had been born
out-of-doors in all the terrible storm. If he had not been led to the
spot by Mana's pitiful cries just when he was, the poor lamb would have
been frozen to death. As it was, the little creature was chilled
through, and had to be wrapped in flannel, placed close beside the fire,
and fed with warm milk before it recovered. The children took such good
care of the lamb that their father gave it to them, for their own; and
when at last the summer did come, in spite of the efforts of old Winter
to prevent it, the "cosset" well repaid their care of him by his funny
antics and pretty ways.
On that stormy afternoon, after the lamb had been made as comfortable as
possible, the children gathered about the artist, and asked him so many
questions about sheep, that they finally gained from him the following
information.
"Sheep--that is, common domestic sheep--are certainly dull and
uninteresting animals, but this is partly because we do not usually see
them to advantage. Sheep are naturally mountainous animals; if left to
themselves, they always prefer hills and rocky mountains to plains and
low-lying pasture, and are as active in climbing as goats. At the period
of sacred history, sheep were evidently not considered stupid. It was
the custom to give each individual a name, to which each would answer
when called. This custom still exists in Greece, and, I believe, in some
other countries. A missionary tells us that once when he was travelling
in Greece, in passing by a flock of sheep, he begged the shepherd to
call one of them by name; he did so, and immediately the sheep left its
companions and its pasture, and ran up to the shepherd with evident
signs of pleasure. The shepherd told the missionary that many of the
sheep were still _wild_, that they had not yet learned their names, but
that by teaching all would learn them. Those which knew their names and
would answer to them he called _tame_. Some years ago, pet lambs used to
be quite a fashion, and there have been many poems and stories written
about them. The poet Wordsworth wrote a very pretty account of a pet
lamb and a mountain maiden; and all children ought to read Miss
Edgeworth's story of _Simple Susan_ and her lamb. Queen Victoria, when
she was a little girl, and lived at Kensington Palace, had a pet lamb
with a pink ribbon round its neck. Some children I know had one which
was very tame and affectionate. When it grew up it was too rough and big
for a play-fellow, and was sent to join a flock of sheep; but long
afterward, when the children came past, it would leave the others to run
to them."
[Illustration: WASHING-DAY.]
THEY ARE COMING.
BY MRS. M. E. SANGSTER.
Mr. and Mrs. Robin,
Mr. and Mrs. Wren,
The Orioles, and the Cat-birds
Are coming back again.
Heigho! for the sweet, sweet blossoms,
And the sweeter music then.
Mr. and Mrs. Robin
And the rest of the merry crew
Will be very brisk and busy,
With plenty of work to do.
Just think of it: keeping house, dears,
And building your houses too.
HOW THE BOYS FOOLED UNCLE BUDGE.
BY KATE R. McDOWELL.
Rick and Karl always spent a week in the spring at Uncle Budge's.
It had chanced for two or three years that they were there on All-fools'
Day, and at the end of the last visit Uncle Budge, on leaving them at
the cars, had urged them to come on for the same time the next year,
adding, "If you succeed in fooling me then, I'll give you each a gold
piece."
Uncle Budge as completely forgot having made such an offer, five minutes
after the boys had waved their hats in good-by, as though there were no
April-fool Days and no gold pieces in the world.
But not so with the Barnes boys. Gold pieces were not so plenty with
them that they would be apt to let such an offer pass in one ear and out
of the other. Already seats at the circus, fishing-rods, and skates were
in wild confusion in their brains.
"A whole year to think up something!" said Rick.
"I don't believe there's a bit of use in trying," answered Karl. "We've
come to the conclusion no end of times that we can't fool Uncle Budge,
and we can't. That's all there is about it."
"No harm in trying," ventured the not easily discouraged Rick, thinking
how often he had admired the gold dollar on Chan Holmes's watch chain.
"Let's try, anyway."
So next April-fools' Day finding them at Uncle Budge's, Karl and Rick
were tiptoeing about very early. They spread the Berkville _Morning
Argus_ of April 1, 1880--which they had slipped out of Uncle Budge's
file the day before--out on the floor, sprinkled some water over it,
folded it carefully, and Karl went quietly down stairs, opened the side
door, laid the paper there, and took up stairs the _Argus_ that the
carrier had just thrown.
About an hour afterward the breakfast-bell rang, and the boys went down
stairs. There lay the paper by Uncle Budge's plate, which caused so
preternaturally solemn an expression to come over their faces that Aunt
Budge was quite worried.
"Now I hope you're not getting homesick," she said to Karl; "I know
there's not much goin' on for you, as is used to a large family and a
good deal of noise; still"--in a more cheerful tone--"we'll think of
something after I've done up my work."
An amused smile played about Rick's lips, to hide which he leaned his
head on his hand.
"Your toothache ain't come on again, Richard?" inquired Aunt Budge,
sympathetically.
"Oh, I'm all right," said one, while the other assured Aunt Budge that
he didn't want to go home a bit, and was having the best sort of a time.
"Uncle Budge has gone over to Wilson's," said Aunt Budge, "but may be in
any minute. He left word not to wait breakfast. Can you reach the
_Argus_, Karl?"
"Well, well," began Aunt Budge, "if another of those Wilkinses isn't
married! Amanda J. Why, now, I was thinking that Amanda went last year;
but no, come to think, it was Alvira. It does seem that just as reg'lar
as spring comes round, off one on 'em goes. Now Amanda is--"
But Aunt Budge's dissertation was cut short by a choking scene, in which
Rick pounded his brother with such force on the back that it was a
wonder they heard the front door open at all.
"There's Uncle Budge," said Rick, hurriedly. "Don't tell him anything
you've noticed in the _Argus_, Aunt Budge, or he'll suspect."
"Suspect!" echoed Aunt Budge, her mind still on the Wilkinses.
"Suspect!"
"Sh--sh!" implored Karl. "It's a fool, Aunt Budge. Help us to carry it
out. Last year's paper--don't you see?"
"Well, well, I declare!" said Aunt Budge, as the real state of the case
flashed over her. "Then," collecting her thoughts, "I was right about
its being Amanda, and--" But Aunt Budge interrupted herself by laughing
so heartily that the boys found themselves compelled to join her, though
it appeared from the conversation, when Uncle Budge came to breakfast,
that Aunt Budge had been recounting some of the boys' pranks of years
before.
"How old was I then?" asked Karl. "I mustn't forget to ask mamma, when I
get home, if she remembers it."
Uncle Budge seated himself, and asked for the paper. He squinted at the
date as Karl held it toward him, and then said: "I believe I'd rather
have a little _younger_ paper than that. This comes within one of it,
boys, but I guess I'll take the _one_ on the eighty."
"Well, now!" exclaimed Aunt Budge, admiringly. "And he never so much as
took it in his hand."
"We can't fool Uncle Budge," said Karl, uttering each word slowly. "That
may as well pass into a proverb. It can _not_ be done."
"I'm not so sure. We're not through trying yet, you know," put in Rick,
with a peculiar look at his brother.
Karl motioned him aside after breakfast.
"What did you mean?" he asked.
"That I've an idea. Just listen;" and a great many questions and answers
were exchanged in a hurried undertone.
"Grand--if it will work. Then we must be all ready by the time he comes
down stairs?"
"Yes, and before that send a telegram to the boys."
"The boys" meant Hal and Jack Putnam; "a telegram," a note pinned to the
string that went round a wooden peg at one of the Budgett windows, and
another at the Putnams'.
"Why?" queried Karl.
"You'll see," replied Rick, as he hastily pencilled:
"'Be on the look-out for Uncle Budge. B. S.'"
The telegram came as the Putnam boys were breakfasting, and Jack laughed
as he read it aloud.
"What is the fun?" asked Mrs. Putnam. "And how strange it is I can not
remember those boys' names. Which one, now, is it that signs himself
'B. S.'?"
"Neither," laughed the boys, merrily. "'B. S.' means 'Big Show.' An
April-fool on Mr. Budgett."
"And mustn't be missed," added Hal. "Jane, please tell us when you see
Mr. Budgett come down street."
Jane went into the kitchen, where she hurriedly told the cook that Mr.
Budgett would probably be coming down town soon, with "April-fool"
chalked on his back.
"Ye don't mane it!" cried the interested Bridget. "Oh, thim byes! thim
byes!" and she flew after the departing milkman with the news, omitting,
however, the word "probably."
But to return to Mr. Budgett. Just as he was putting on his coat, he
heard whispers of,
"He's going, Karl, as sure as I'm alive!"
"And hasn't noticed it. Well, that's too good."
"He's looking in the glass now."
"Sh--sh! don't make so much noise."
"He sees it, I'm sure, or he'd have gone long ago."
"Sh--sh! can't you?"
Mr. Budgett heard it all. "I believe I've left my pocket-book," he said,
half aloud, as he turned to go up stairs.
"It's all up now," said Karl, vexedly.
"Maybe not. Keep dark."
"Couldn't very well do otherwise under these coats. Why doesn't he go?
I'm smothering."
This decided Mr. Budgett. Up he went, and with Aunt Budge's hand-glass
and the mirror took a complete survey.
"Did you find it?" called Aunt Budge, as he came down again.
"Yes," from Uncle Budge, who was listening for more whispers.
"We'll open the window, and watch him down the street."
"Sh--sh! How the Putnams will stare!"
A suppressed giggle followed.
The shutting of the front door was a signal for the boys to rush wildly
out of the hall closet into the dining-room, where Aunt Budge was
hovering over the breakfast dishes.
"What is it?" cried Aunt Budge, putting on her glasses. "Oh, what red
faces! Did you get shut in?"
"We're fooling Uncle Budge," said Rick, breathlessly. "He promised us
each a gold piece if we could," and he dashed up stairs after Karl.
They raised the windows cautiously, but not too quietly for Uncle Budge.
He heard, but did not look up, though he began to feel a little ill at
ease; and no less so when the milkman, who was dashing away from the
Putnams', reined in his horses very noticeably, nudged the small boy on
the side of the wagon, and both looked curiously at him.
Mr. Budgett walked a few steps, then looked furtively behind him.
Imagine his feelings at discovering that the milkman had stopped his
horses, and that the small boy was running quietly after him, but
stopped as he noticed Mr. Budgett glance around.
"There certainly is something wrong," decided Mr. Budgett; "though I
didn't think those little rascals would make a spectacle of me. As I
live, their heads are out of the window yet. And look at the Putnams!"
he exclaimed, aloud.
Well might he stop in surprise. There was Mrs. Putnam standing in the
library window, with Abby and Sarah on tiptoe beside her; the two boys
at a large upper window, poking each other and giggling audibly; Mr.
Putnam at a third, apparently consulting a thermometer, but looking
across at Mr. Budgett as though he possessed far more interest for him
than any degree on the indicator; and lastly, Jane and Bridget on the
side stoop, gazing as though he were a candidate for Barnum's.
Uncle Budge turned abruptly, and went home.
"Polly, what's the matter with me?" he asked, walking into the
dining-room, where Aunt Budge was drying her coffee-caps. "All Berkville
is agog."
"Berkville agog!" cried Aunt Budge, inspecting Mr. Budgett critically.
"I'm sure I don't know over what. However, the boys are up to something,
for they said as much."
"Of course they are," agreed Uncle Budge; "but can't you take it off,
Polly? It's on my back, I guess."
"Something alive!" screamed Aunt Budge. "Why don't you shake yourself,
Jacob?"
Uncle Budge laughed heartily.
"It would be as well," advised Aunt Budge, "to give 'em the gold at
once, for they'll play the trick, Jacob, whatever it is, on you till you
do."
"Give them the gold!" exclaimed Uncle Budge, wonderingly. "My dear
Polly, what do you mean?"
"They say you promised 'em each a gold piece last year if they'd come on
and fool you this."
"I did?" with still more surprise in his voice--"I did? 'Pon my word I'd
forgotten it. Well, well," producing the purse that Polly had knitted
for him years ago. "Where are the rascals?" Then going to the stairs,
"Rick and Karl, come down here," he called, with an affected sternness
in his voice. "The idea of your daring to make a guy of your old uncle!"
"We haven't made a guy of you," said the boys, rushing down; "and it
isn't a mean fool at all, Uncle Budge, for it's really nothing."
"Nothing!" echoed Aunt Budge. "Why is everybody staring, then?"
"Only the Putnams," they explained. "We sent a telegram to the boys--"
"Telling them what?" interrupted Uncle Budge. "Not all about it, I
hope?"
"No; merely to be on the look-out for you."
"You don't mean it!" chuckled Uncle Budge; "and that that whole family
is fooled from garret to cellar, milkman included. Well, well, pretty
good, pretty good. You deserve a reward, boys, for there'll be few
tricks played to-day that'll end as pleasantly as this. It's the right
kind of one, and the more of that sort the merrier."
"Beauties, ain't they?" cried Aunt Budge, admiringly, as the boys laid
their gold pieces on the table where the sun came streaming in, and
called her to look at them.
"Seems to me," said Karl, "they're bigger than Chan Holmes's."
"His has worn down, perhaps," said Rick, spinning his glittering coin.
"Why, look here! what's this? 'Two and a half D.'"
"No you don't," answered Karl, knowingly. "I'm too well posted on the
day of the month."
"Well, I know these are two-dollar-and-a-half pieces," cried Rick,
snatching his hat, "and I'm off to thank Uncle Budge for _his_ fool,"
and away he went, and Karl after him when he found it was true.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 66, February 1.]
PHIL'S FAIRIES.
BY MRS. W. J. HAYS,
AUTHOR OF "PRINCESS IDLEWAYS," ETC.
CHAPTER IX.
A VISIT FROM THE YOUNG DOCTOR.
"Now, Phil," said Miss Rachel, "I am not going to be so busy for a while,
and though you can not study yet, for the doctors say you must not, I
shall read aloud to you a little every day. Graham has promised to come
often to visit you, and with our boating and driving, and pleasant
friends coming to stay with us, I think we shall have rather a nice
summer. What do you think?"
Phil's face lighted up with a grateful smile, which grew into rather a
sober expression.
"I think it is all delightful; but--"
"But what, my dear; are you not contented?"
"Oh yes, more than that: I am as happy as I can be; but--"
"Another but."
"Miss Rachel, what becomes of all the poor sick children in the city who
have no such friend as you are to me?"
"They suffer sadly, dear Phil."
"Then don't you think I ought to remember them sometimes?"
"Yes, in your prayers."
"Is there no other way?"
"I am not sure that there is for a child like you. Perhaps there may be,
and we will think about it; but you must not let such a thought oppress
you; it is too much for a sick child to consider. Be happy; try to get
well; do all you can to make everybody about you glad that you are here,
by pleasant looks and good-nature. There, that is a little sermon which
you hardly need, dear, for you are blessed with a sweet and patient
temper, and are far less troublesome than many a well child."
"I suppose I do not deserve any praise if I was made so," said Phil,
laughing.
"No, not a bit; the poor cross little things who fret and tease and
worry are the ones who should be praised when they make an effort not to
be disagreeable. But I am not going to preach any more. I am going down
stairs to make some sponge-cake for the picnic you and Lisa and I are
going to have to-morrow."
"A picnic! a real one in the woods?"
"Yes, and here comes Graham with a basket. I wonder what is in it.
Good-by. I will send him up to you."
Graham came up in a few moments with the basket on his arm.
"Guess what I have here, Phil."
"How can I?"
"Oh yes, you can--just guess."
"Something to eat?"
"No, little piggy; or rather yes, if you choose."
"Well, chickens or eggs?"
"No, neither."
"Fruit?"
"Guess again."
"Medicine for some of your father's sick people?"
"No."
"Flowers? Oh no, one can not eat flowers if they choose. I give it up."
[Illustration: PHIL'S PRESENT.]
"Well, then, watch," and lifting the cover slowly, three cunning white
rabbits poked their little twitching noses over the edge of the basket.
Phil gazed at them delightedly. "And you call those little darlings
something to eat, do you?"
"If you choose, yes."
"As if any one could choose to be such a cannibal! What precious little
beauties they are! Oh, how pretty they look!"
"They are for you."
"Really! Oh, thank you, Graham. But you must ask Miss Schuyler."
"I did, and I am to build them a hutch. Until I do, there is an empty
box in the barn where they can stay."
"And can you build?--handle tools like a carpenter? How nice that must
be!"
"Oh, that's nothing; all boys can do that."
Graham forgot that Phil was one boy who could not, but seeing the shade
come over his friend's face made him repent his hasty speech.
"I beg your pardon," he said, in a low voice.
"No, you need not, Graham. I must get used to being different from other
boys. Well, these are just the loveliest little things I ever saw. What
do they live on?"
"Almost any green thing; they are very fond of lettuce. When you are
able, you must come and see my lop-ears."
"Have you many rabbits?"
"Yes, quite a number. Let me see: there's Neb (he's an old black fellow,
Nebuchadnezzar), and Miss Snowflake, Aunt Chloe (after the one in _Uncle
Tom's Cabin_), Fanny Elssler (because she jumps about so), and Mr.
Prim--he is the stillest old codger you ever saw."
"What other pets have you?"
"I've lots of chickens, three dogs, two cats, a squirrel, and a parrot."
"A large family."
"Yes, almost too large; they will have to be given up soon."
"How soon?"
"In the fall, I suppose; I am going to boarding-school."
"What fun!"
"You would be amused with Polly. She is a gay old thing--laughs, sings,
and dances."
"Oh, Graham, can she do all that?"
"Indeed she can; sometimes she sings like a nurse putting a child to
sleep, in a sort of humming hush-a-by-baby way; then she tries
dance-music, and hops first on one foot, then on the other--this way,"
and Graham began mimicking the parrot, and Phil laughed till the tears
came. "She screams out 'Fire!' like an old fury, but she is as serene as
a May day when she gets her cup of coffee."
"Is that your parrot, Graham?" asked Miss Schuyler.
"Yes, ma'am, that's our green and golden Polly."
"We will have to pay it a visit. Can you join our picnic to-morrow? it
is Phil's first one."
"Really! why, he has a good deal to learn of our country ways."
"Yes, and I have a little plan to propose in which you may help us.
Promise you will come."
"Oh, I am always ready, thank you, Miss Schuyler. Shall we go by boat?"
"To be sure, to Eagle Island."
"Then we will go early, I suppose, as it is quite a long pull. What must
I bring, Miss Schuyler?"
"Only your arms, Graham, for alone Joe will perhaps find the rowing a
little too much for him in the warm sun. I am Commissary-General for the
party. That means, Phil, that I furnish the provisions; a
Commissary-General has to see that his troops are well fed."
"There is no danger about that, I am sure," said Graham, gallantly, "if
Miss Schuyler leads us."
"Well, then, to-morrow at nine, before the sun is too high--earlier
would not do for Phil. And now be off with yourself; and your bunnies,
Graham, leave them in the barn; and tell your good, kind father that you
are an excellent substitute for himself, that Phil is improving even
faster with your visits than he did with his."
"Good-by, then, Phil; good-by, Miss Schuyler. To-morrow at nine."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
PINAFORE RHYMES.--(_Continued._)
[Illustration]
Three organ men met in the street one day,
And all of them started at once to play;
They ground out their music from morning till night,
And the neighborhood felt in a terrible plight.
The rats and the mice scampered out of their holes,
And fled to the tops of the telegraph poles,
And a dog, that had patiently heard every tune,
Went mad at the last, and howled at the moon.
Then each of the organ men shouldered his pack,
And the neighborhood wished they might never come back.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Dear Aunt Fanny drove up to the door
From her country home with a coach and four;
She brought a big bundle of candy and cake,
The sweetest and best she could purchase and bake;
And that is the reason she travelled in state,
For she knew that the dear little folks couldn't wait.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
[Illustration]
I'll tell you a story--it's not very long--
Of the terrible giant, old Pink-a-pong.
He lived in a castle so big and high
That the topmost turrets were up in the sky.
He made a great earthquake whenever he walked,
And it sounded like thunder whenever he talked.
He never jumped less than a mile at a bound,
And would frighten the people for leagues around;
And every one said this was very wrong
Of the terrible giant, old Pink-a-pong.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Four little youngsters ran out of the mill,
Clambered right merrily over the hill;
Scampered about through the whole afternoon;
Went home at night by the light of the moon.
Foot-sore and weary and sleepy were they;
Slept all the night and the whole of next day.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Blow, breezes, softly blow,
Rock the children to and fro;
Not too hard, and not too high,
Lest they should tumble out and cry.
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
OGDENSBURG, NEW YORK.
I live on the banks of the St. Lawrence River. I suppose the little
readers in Florida think this is the north pole, and sometimes it
is so cold I think so too. My little brother and I skate. We can
not skate much on the St. Lawrence, for the ferry-boat from here to
Prescott tries to keep the ice broken, and when it does freeze, it
is very rough. But there is good skating on the Oswegatchie River,
which runs into the St. Lawrence here.
The old windmill where a battle was fought, ever so many years
ago, can be seen across the river, a mile and a half below
Prescott. It was made into a light-house about four years ago, and
is the best light on the St. Lawrence.
We have had snow and sleighing here ever since October. I attend
school, and I can look out of my school-room window and see a
number of miles into Canada, and have a splendid view of one of
the grandest rivers in the world.
CONE S. B.
* * * * *
PINCKNEY CORNERS, NEW YORK.
It was a glad surprise to us children when papa took YOUNG PEOPLE
for us this year.
I have a cat that can open grandma's door and come in. She has
only one ear, the other was frozen when she was a little kitten.
I wish Judith Wolff would write more to YOUNG PEOPLE about her
home. Mamma thinks it would be so nice to live there in the
tropics. Here we have had such deep snow all winter that we could
not go to school. I am nine years old.
ALLIE G.
* * * * *
DETROIT, MICHIGAN.
I am seven years old. I wanted to write and tell Charlie C. how
sorry I am for him because his little sister Annie died and left
him all alone. And I am very sorry, too, for Harry D. S., whose
papa was shot by the Mexicans.
I liked Jennie Anderson's letter about the flood. Mamma cried when
she read it to me.
I have just been to visit my cousin in Chicago, and I saw a monkey
in the park there that I thought must be Mr. Stubbs. I was so
sorry for Toby, and I hope old Ben will help him to get some more
money.
MABEL R. T.
* * * * *
HALIFAX, MASSACHUSETTS.
When I saw the game of Kangaroo in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 69, I got a
board and copied it nicely, and I want to tell you that my mother
and my sisters and I enjoy playing it very much.
C. MORTON P.
* * * * *
HILLSBOROUGH, MISSOURI.
I am eleven years old. I am so delighted with "Toby Tyler" and
"Phil's Fairies," that I can hardly wait for my little paper to
come.
I was very much pleased with the notice in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 70
about birds' eggs. I think it is a cruel thing to rob the little
birds of their eggs. My oldest brother is thirteen years old, and
he has never taken an egg out of a bird's nest.
LAURA H. MCM.
* * * * *
LEESPORT, PENNSYLVANIA.
We are much pleased to see that HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE is teaching
its readers to defend the little birds.
SALLIE, ROSE, and KATE W.
* * * * *
JERSEY CITY, NEW JERSEY.
When I saw the picture of Niagara in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 70, I thought
I would write and tell the little readers that I was born in a
house on the Canada side of the river, in February of a very cold
winter, when an ice mound like the one in the picture reached as
high as the falls, and did not melt, entirely away that year until
the 2d of July. There was an ice bridge, too, so that people
crossed from one shore to the other.
I have a nice collection of postage stamps, and I have the
autograph of Prince Arthur, the third son of Queen Victoria.
S. P. S.
* * * * *
PALATKA, FLORIDA.
My home is in Norwalk, Connecticut, but I came here in January,
with papa and mamma, for my health, and we are not going home until
May.
I like Florida very much, for I can be out-of-doors from morning
until night, and I have such good times playing in the sand. All
the soil here is white and sandy, and full of little shells. The
orange-trees are in bud, and will soon be in full blossom. We have
lots of pretty flowers, and nice strawberries, and green peas.
I saw a large panther which had been killed a few miles from here,
and also an alligator nearly thirteen feet long, which was to be
stuffed for a museum. We see lots of little alligators; they are
very funny-looking things.
BERTHA E. S.
* * * * *
TROY, NEW YORK.
The YOUNG PEOPLE is so nice I wish it would come twice a week
instead of once. I am saving all my copies to show to my uncle John
when he comes back. Now he is at Fort Custer, Montana, fighting the
Indians. He sent me a baby buffalo skin with the head and tail all
on. We put it in the little sleigh when we take my baby brother out
riding.
A. J. H. S.
* * * * *
REDWOOD FALLS, MINNESOTA.
I like my YOUNG PEOPLE very much, and I have been so sorry this
winter because I could not get it regularly, because the trains
were stopped by the great snow. At one time our postmaster went to
Sleepy Eye, twenty-six miles from here, and brought the mail on a
hand-sled on top of the snow-drifts. Then I received three numbers
of YOUNG PEOPLE all at once.
J. MABEL M.
* * * * *
RIO, ILLINOIS.
I am just overjoyed when YOUNG PEOPLE comes. I always sit down and
read it all through, and oh, how I wish there was as much again! I
don't suppose I shall get it to-day, for the train is stuck tight
in a snow-bank below Rio. Three engines are trying to pull it out,
but they can not move it. We have had a terrible winter here. The
snow has drifted clear across the road and right over the fences,
so that teams could not go anywhere.
NELLIE A. R.
* * * * *
FOND DU LAC, WISCONSIN.
I have a dog that drags me all around the city on my sled. The snow
here is six or seven feet deep in many places. Some of the houses
are half covered up with drifts. I jumped from our up-stairs barn
door into a drift twelve feet deep, and I had hard work to get out
of it.
FRED G. S.
* * * * *
EMMETSBURG, IOWA, _March_ 4, 1881.
We have had a long, cold winter here. To-day there is a regular
"blizzard," and we have had a great many already. We live on the
Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad, but have not seen a train since
January 29, because the cuts are all filled with snow, and as fast
as they are cleared out, another "blizzard" comes and fills them up
again. I don't get YOUNG PEOPLE very regularly, only when the stage
brings the mail, and then I get several numbers at once. The drifts
are very high, and we walk on them over the tops of the fences. One
drift is twelve feet deep.
SCOTTIE O.
* * * * *
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA.
I am a very little girl. Mamma reads the stories and little letters
in YOUNG PEOPLE to me. I felt so sorry for Toby Tyler when Mr.
Stubbs threw away his money that I made a little bag, and put some
of my pennies in it, and I have asked mamma so many times to send
it to him that now she is going to do it, and when I think Toby has
this nice little red money bag, and some more pennies, I shall feel
a great deal better. I am blowing soap-bubbles in the sunshine by
the window, while mamma writes this for me. I know my letters, and
can print some, and I hope soon to do my own writing.
Mamma helped me print a letter to Santa Claus, and I told him just
what I wanted him to bring me. I put my letter in the chimney, and
next morning it was gone, and dear old Santa Claus brought me just
what I asked him for. I screamed up the chimney, and tried to make
him hear me, but he never answered a word.
CHRISIE B. B.
A little red bag, evidently the work of a "very little girl," containing
three very bright pennies, accompanied this letter. It has been sent to
Mr. Otis, who has written the story of the little boy's wanderings, and
we are sure that when it reaches him, Toby Tyler will be pleased and
comforted by this pretty expression of sympathy. The little readers of
YOUNG PEOPLE are very lavish with their offers of kindness to this
unfortunate boy. A great many homes are proffered to him, and no end of
pennies and other comforts.
Indeed, no story that we remember has excited so much interest in its
readers as that of "Toby Tyler." We could fill the Post-office Box with
the letters received from our young correspondents, expressing their
sympathy and delight. Many letters from parents also show that grown-up
people are interested in the story, not only for the good lesson which
it teaches, but for the graphic and entertaining manner in which the
boy's adventures are told.
* * * * *
SEWICKLEY, PENNSYLVANIA.
DEAR YOUNG PEOPLE,--Would you please tell me where Toby Tyler is? I
would like to send him my fifty cents to help him home. I am so
sorry Mr. Stubbs threw his money away, and I think Toby was a good
boy not to punish him for it.
CARRIE M. M.
We do not know at present where Toby Tyler is; and we advise our young
correspondents, who show such a pleasant disposition to help him, to
wait for the end of his story, and see how his adventures turn out.
* * * * *
SUMMERSIDE, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND.
I am eleven years old, but I have never been to school. I learn my
lessons at home. I am in the Fourth Royal Reader.
I wish some of the little girls in the Southern States could see
all the snow we have here. The train passes close to our house,
and it is great fun watching it go out to Charlottetown with three
engines, and the snow-plough sending the snow in all directions.
ELLIE G.
* * * * *
LITTLE SALMON VALLEY, IDAHO.
I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE ever since the first number, and I think
it is the best paper for boys and girls I ever saw.
The snow is very deep here, and we are going round on snow-shoes.
We boys have lots of fun riding down hill on them.
WILLIAM H. O.
* * * * *
Willie M. Bloss, Montreal, Canada, desires to inform correspondents that
he will not exchange any longer for postmarks.
Elijah G. B., Cleveland, Ohio, and Shelton A. Hibbs, Philadelphia,
Penn., withdraw their names from our exchange list.
* * * * *
Charles Gruner, Brooklyn, N. Y., made a mistake in his offer printed in
the Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 71. He wishes to exchange
foreign stamps and foreign coins for old United States copper one-cent
and half-cent pieces, coins, curiosities, and postmarks.
Correspondents will please take particular notice of the paragraph at
the beginning of the Post-office Box in the previous number. In future
we shall print no offer of exchange unless it comes to us very clearly
expressed, for there is no space in the Post-office Box for the
correction of mistakes.
* * * * *
I wish to say to those correspondents who have sent me used United
States stamps that I only want new, unused stamps, as my foreign
stamps are half unused.
JOHN LEWIS CASPAR,
P. O. Box 3, China Grove, Rowan County, N. C.
We publish the above statement for the benefit of those who may be
sending stamps to the writer; but at the same time we must remind him
that, as his first offer of exchange did not state that he wished for
new stamps only, he is in honor bound either to send his foreign stamps
to his correspondents, or to return promptly those which he has
received.
* * * * *
I have received so many letters requesting arrow-heads in exchange
for postage stamps that my stock is exhausted. I wish to say to the
boys and girls who have sent me stamps, and to whom I can not
return arrow-heads, that I will either return their stamps, or send
them pressed moss and rocks from Oregon. Correspondents will please
write and tell me which they wish me to do.
WALTER BUCHANAN,
Butteville, Marion County, Oregon.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are desired by correspondents:
Stamps, for coins and Indian arrow-heads.
EDWARD P. GOODELL,
500 North Twentieth Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
Quartz, iron ore, or two kinds of old United States stamps, for
foreign stamps.
RUSSELL S. JANNEY,
Rainbow Box, Marietta, Washington Co., Ohio.
* * * * *
Foreign postage stamps, for curiosities. Ten foreign stamps (no
duplicates) for an Indian arrow-head.
A. C. GILDERSLEEVE,
28 West Forty-eighth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Postage stamps.
LEWIS B. MELVAINE,
P. O. Box 2410, New York City.
* * * * *
Canadian, English, Danish, Japanese, and Sandwich Island stamps,
for Cuban, Newfoundland, Baden, Australian, Spanish, and Philippine
Islands stamps.
JOHNNIE R. WHIPPLE,
Hotel St. Cloud, Tremont Street, Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
Minerals.
EDDIE M. WEYER,
Portsmouth, Scioto County, Ohio.
* * * * *
Stones from Tennessee, fossils, and other specimens, for sea-shells
and other curiosities.
FANNIE M. YOUNG,
Dixon's Springs, Smith County, Tennessee.
* * * * *
Stamps.
GOLDWIN GOLDSMITH,
157 East Seventy-fourth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Stamps.
W. D. C. SPIKE,
St. Peter's Clergy House,
Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada.
* * * * *
Rare European and American stamps, for South American and African
stamps.
J. H. CROSS, JUN.,
P. O. Box 597, Westerly, R. I.
* * * * *
Foreign postage stamps, for Indian arrow-heads, ocean curiosities,
or curiosities from South America, and other places. Correspondents
will please label specimens.
JOHN OWEN ROUSE,
115 Broadway, Room 91, New York City.
* * * * *
Copper pyrites, agate, zinc ore, and some cement-rock from
California, for other minerals or shells.
EMMA. S. PRITCHARD,
738 East Fifth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Postage stamps from England, France, Germany, or Cuba, for Chinese,
African, or Danish stamps.
WILL KILLMASTER,
Port Rowan, Ontario, Canada.
* * * * *
Shells, coins, postmarks, and minerals, for foreign postage stamps,
Indian relics, or monograms. Or a Mexican dollar, some postage
stamps, and some Indian arrow-heads, for a real Indian bow and six
arrows.
ROBERT T. and BERTIE PARKE,
Care of J. H. Wills,
Downingtown, Chester County, Penn.
* * * * *
Rare foreign stamps.
ANNIE WHEELER,
Care of Postmaster, Danville, Va.
* * * * *
Postage stamps and minerals, for Indian relics.
WILLIAM L. BLOODGOOD,
1222 North Eighteenth Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
Five different kinds of well-polished woods, for two good minerals,
size not less than three by three inches, or for two Indian relics,
arrow-heads excepted.
S. H. LOOMIS,
P. O. Box 191, Geneva, Ontario County, N. Y.
* * * * *
Talc and marble, for ocean curiosities, flower seeds, or for other
minerals.
JULIA E. FOSTER,
Gouverneur, St. Lawrence County, N. Y.
* * * * *
Postmarks, or old United States stamps, for Newfoundland stamps.
GEORGE M. LEYS,
297 McDonough Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
Sea-urchins, small abalone shells, or sea-moss from the Pacific,
for Indian relics of all kinds. Or a piece of flint from
California, for flint from any other State.
FRED A. WALTON, JUN.,
Navarro Ridge, Mendocino County, Cal.
* * * * *
Silver, iron, or copper ore, Indian relics, soil from ten States,
curious stones, or shells, for stamps (no duplicates).
W. A. COURTRIGHT,
P. O. Box 151, Palmyra, Marion County, Mo.
* * * * *
A stamp from each of the following countries, Germany, Switzerland,
Italy, Spain, and Holland, for five African, Asiatic, or South
American stamps.
WILLIAM C. RIVERS, Pulaski, Giles County, Tenn.
* * * * *
Postmarks and stamps, for stamps, coins, or curiosities.
C. PITT F. JOYCE,
611 Thirteenth Street, Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
Shells, ocean curiosities, or pieces of a wrecked vessel, for
United States postage stamps of denominations above ten cents, or
foreign stamps; Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and
Prince Edward Island stamps especially desired.
WILLIE L. DUDLEY,
P. O. Box 776, Atlantic City, Atlantic County, N. J.
* * * * *
Postage stamps. Thirty-cent United States and others to exchange.
ANNA G. HESSE,
236 South Second Street, Brooklyn, E. D., N. Y.
* * * * *
An ounce of sand or a stone from New York State, for the same from
any other State.
K. DEAN,
310 Hamilton Street, Albany, N. Y.
* * * * *
Specimens of woods and soil of Victoria County, Texas, for the same
of any other locality.
A. G. STERNE, Victoria, Victoria County, Texas.
* * * * *
A READER, SYRACUSE.--Skins of woodchucks and other small animals are
often prepared by country boys without the use of any chemicals. The
skin, fur side down, is stretched as tight as possible on a board, and
is exposed to the sun and air until thoroughly dry. It must never be
left out at night, nor allowed to get damp, as this makes it liable to
crack and mould. When dry, it should be rubbed gently between the hands
until soft. A little bran added while rubbing absorbs the grease, and
helps to soften the skin. The skin will be better preserved if, after
tacking it to the board, you wash it over with a solution of salt, and
afterward, during several days, moisten the surface often with a wash
made by dissolving two and a half ounces of alum in a pint of warm
water.
* * * * *
E. L. S.--The first series of United States stamps was issued in 1847,
and consisted of two values--5-cent, Franklin head, brown; 10-cent,
Washington head, in black. The next series was begun in 1851. It
consisted of 1-cent, 3-cent, 5-cent, 10-cent, 12-cent, 24-cent, 30-cent,
and 90-cent. This was followed in 1861 by a series of similar values,
with the addition of 2-cent and 15-cent. In 1869, an entire change was
made, and stamps were issued of 1-cent, 2-cent, 3-cent, 6-cent, 10-cent,
12-cent, 24-cent, 30-cent, and 90-cent. Following this, in 1870, came
the current series, which at first had values similar to the 1869
series, with the addition of a 7-cent stamp. The 7-cent, 12-cent, and
24-cent were suppressed in 1875, and the 5-cent re-introduced. Space is
too limited to give any details of these stamps, but the following point
will help you. The second and third series can be distinguished by the
size of the holes separating the stamps, being very small in the second.
In the fourth series, the stamps are all square. In the current series,
all except the 5-cent are treated similarly to the 3-cent, head in oval
to left. The 5-cent is blue. All these are the regular postage stamps
for the use of the public.
* * * * *
E. S. R.--There are no books on the subject about which you inquire
which are of use to beginners. The best thing you can do is to take a
few lessons from some practical workman.
* * * * *
JOHNNY S.--If by "round" stamps you mean those cut from stamped
envelopes, they are good for exchange, with the exception that they are
very easily obtained. You must always cut them square, as they are
better to paste in an album.
* * * * *
T. A. J.--Fac-similes of autographs of celebrated persons are not of
much value for exchange, as they can easily be obtained. They are not
only often given in newspapers, but are contained in school histories
and many other books.
* * * * *
HARRY A. MCI.--The list of words ending in _cion_ was given in the
Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 20, Vol. I.
* * * * *
W. E. B. AND WALTER E. L.--Before the annexation of New Mexico, St.
Augustine was the oldest town in the United States. Santa Fe had long
been an Indian pueblo when it was occupied by the Spaniards, toward the
end of the sixteenth century, and some of the ancient adobe dwellings of
the Indians are still standing. Neither history nor tradition tells when
this location was first chosen by the Indians, but the remains found
there prove the date of settlement to be very ancient. The San Miguel
Church, built soon after the occupation of Santa Fe by the Spaniards, is
probably the oldest church edifice in the United States.
* * * * *
O. W. S.--The first "Jimmy Brown" story was in No. 32 of YOUNG PEOPLE,
Vol. I. There were also stories of the series in Nos. 35, 38, and 50 of
the same volume.
* * * * *
SUBSCRIBER, PHILADELPHIA.--The first Wednesday in March, 1789, which
that year fell on the fourth day of the month, was the time appointed
for the government of the United States to begin its operations after
the election of George Washington, but owing to unavoidable delays it
was several weeks later before both of the new Houses of Congress could
assemble. The inauguration of Washington did not take place until April
30 of the same year, but his term of office dated from March 4, and it
was on that day in 1797 that he retired, after serving his country for
eight years, and the inauguration of John Adams took place. The
inaugurations of Presidents of the United States have always taken place
on that day, except when the date has fallen on Sunday, in which case
the public ceremonies are postponed until the following day.
* * * * *
E. W. H., AND MANY OTHERS.--When the address of a correspondent desiring
exchange has been given, you must direct your offers and inquiries
directly to the one with whom you desire to make an exchange.
* * * * *
M. C. M.--The address you desire was given twice in the Post-office Box,
in No. 36 and No. 41, Vol. I.
* * * * *
ROBERT H. R.--We can not furnish a full set of Young People containing
"The Moral Pirates," but you can obtain the story in neat book form.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Jessie Allen, T. M.
Armstrong, Walter E. Brainard, Charles Beyers, Jun., Berty Bassett,
Jimmie F. Burns, Nellie Brainard, Courtney Chambers, C. D. Chipman,
Nellie and Charles Corbishley, Maud M. Chambers, Willie Curtis, "Car O.
Liney," Bessie Daniels, Happy J. Daniels, Edward L. Hunt, J. L. Hastie,
Madge K. Kelly, M. Kelso, _A. B. Lothrop_, "L. U. Stral," _Charles
Mullen_ and "_Thought_," Paul J. Myler, Gracie Moore, Maud Miller,
Charlie Nichols, Jessie Newton, "Oliver Twist," Alice Paige, _Augusta
Low Parke_, Daisy Rand, W. H. Rogers, "Starry Flag," "Tre," Mattie R.
Upton, Willie F. Woolard, Kittie Weston, Karl C. Wells, H. Western,
_Madge S. Wilson_.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA.
In frolic, not in fun.
In rifle, not in gun.
In insect, not in gnat.
In mouse, not in cat
In peat, not in coal.
In wrap, not in roll.
In stain, not in soil.
In labor, not in toil.
In curtain, not in screen.
My whole an ancient queen.
CAR O. LINEY.
* * * * *
No. 2.
HALF-SQUARE--(_To Percy_).
A sea. A bitter drug. A business transaction. A number. The present
tense of a verb. A letter from Michigan.
STARRY FLAG.
* * * * *
No. 3.
EASY DIAMONDS.
1. In amethyst. To cover. A sea-port in Europe. To be impertinent. In
amethyst.
EDITH B.
2. A letter from New Hampshire. To confine. A musical instrument. The
limit. A letter from Idaho.
JOHN.
3. In England. A town of Belgium. A town of Brazil. A town and river of
Persia. In England.
BOLUS.
* * * * *
No. 4.
ENIGMA--(_To Bolus_).
In rattle, not in box.
In Reynard, not in fox.
In gable, not in house.
In bittern, not in grouse.
In lion, not in deer.
In port, not in beer.
In master, not in men.
In inkstand, not in pen.
In curtain, not in shade.
In knife, not in blade.
You read of my whole in a famous book,
Into which all children love to look;
It forms a part of a baby's attire,
And takes the place of blankets and fire.
EDITH M. W.
* * * * *
No. 5.
DOUBLE ACROSTIC--(_To Owlet_).
_Primals and Finals._
Always opposed, each struggling for his right;
One flings the glove, the other then must fight.
_Cross Words._
1. A work of art, admired through ages past,
Yet, after all, is but a tomb at last.
2. An instrument of music no one uses,
Though honored by Apollo and the Muses.
3. When gossips trouble us with tales absurd,
We wish them far away, using this word.
4. A picture we may guard, displayed or hid,
But none may worship--that's a thing forbid.
5. The prophet who rebuked, with words of power,
The king who sinned in an unhappy hour.
6. A creature from whose touch we shrink with dread,
That bears a charmed life--none find it dead.
7. A charming isle in Naples' lovely bay--
There pilgrims worship, and there tourists stray.
8. She cares not for the duties of her nest,
But on her master's hand sits like a crest.
9. Here roamed the deer, and many an Indian band,
Now rarely found throughout our happy land.
RIP VAN WINKLE.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 71.
No. 1.
Donkey.
No. 2.
1. Yosemite Valley. 2. Wheat-ear. 3. Dahlia.
No. 3.
Madagascar.
No. 4.
U pa S
N augh T
I beri A
T rou T
E lb E
D ipper S
United States.
No. 5.
Mobile.
HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE.
SINGLE COPIES, 4 cents; ONE SUBSCRIPTION, one year, $1.50; FIVE
SUBSCRIPTIONS, one year, $7.00--_payable in advance, postage free_.
The Volumes of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE commence with the first Number in
November of each year.
Subscriptions may begin with any Number. When no time is specified, it
will be understood that the subscriber desires to commence with the
Number issued after the receipt of the order.
Remittances should be made by POST-OFFICE MONEY-ORDER OR DRAFT, to avoid
risk of loss.
HARPER & BROTHERS,
Franklin Square, N. Y.
A PERSONATION: WHO AM I?
BY E. M.
The first thirty years of my life I lived at ease as a liegeman at a
foreign court, where I was treated with favor, and not made to feel my
dependence. My own country, of which I was the lawful ruler, suffered
from internal wars, and finally my patriotism was aroused by the
judicial murder of one of my countrymen, who, fighting not for the hope
of the crown, but to free the country from its oppressors, was taken
prisoner, and barbarously executed. His unselfish life and death opened
my eyes to my cowardice, and incited me to make an effort to regain my
freedom, and, with a few whom I thought my friends, I concerted a plan
to escape. This plan was betrayed by one of my associates, and being
hot-blooded, when I met him by appointment to consult, though it was in
a church, I taxed him with his treachery, and our quarrel growing
violent, swords were drawn, and I killed him at the foot of the altar. I
instantly fled, assumed the title of King, called on my faithful
subjects to aid me, and, assisted by my three brothers, soon organized a
small army. The force sent against me by the usurper of my crown was so
much larger and better disciplined than mine that in the first battle I
was defeated, my army scattered, and I fled, with my brothers and a few
friends, to the hills for shelter. Being too many to remain together, we
separated. I escaped pursuit, but my three dear brothers were captured,
and soon after hung, and I was excommunicated by the Pope on account of
the murder committed in the church. A few friends joined me in my
hiding-place, and whenever we were able we sallied forth, attacking, and
often defeating, small bodies of our enemies, and then fleeing to the
friendly hills. Little by little my forces increased, and finally my
successes became so constant that the usurper himself left his country
at the head of a large army, determined to crush me. Fortunately for me,
he was taken sick, and died ere he could cross the borders of my
kingdom, but charged his son not to bury his bones until he had borne
them in triumph through my dominions. This son, unlike his war-like
father, preferred a luxurious court life, and for three years I was left
unmolested, so that I succeeded in establishing my claim over all the
country, and was publicly proclaimed King. This last act aroused my
enemy from his apathy, and he sent a force against me; but domestic
troubles compelled the army to return home, and the disagreements
between the King and his subjects lasted long enough to enable me to
recover my lost possessions, until at last only one fortress remained to
be reconquered. The governor of this asked for a truce, promising if he
were not relieved by the King before the feast of St. John, he would
deliver up the castle. He sent word to his royal master, who started as
soon as he could raise an army, and the night before the feast (June 24)
saw us both encamped in the neighborhood of the fortress. The battle
next day resulted in my favor, though the odds were greatly against us,
and it has been celebrated in both song and story. I captured so many
noble prisoners that I was enabled to exchange them for my wife and
relations, who had been held as captives for eight years. I was now able
to take the offensive, drive my enemies out of my kingdom, and compel a
truce for thirteen years. I was beloved by my people, and so dear is my
memory still to them that in 1872, more than five hundred years after my
death, a statue was erected to me in the famous castle I conquered on
the eve of St. John.
[Illustration: BOY. "Say, Mister, will you hold my Kite while I go up
and tie on another piece of tail?"]
[Illustration]
THE TALLY-HO.
Heigh-ho! Here we go,
On top of the famous Tally-ho.
The cracking whip and tooting horn
Ring loud and clear on the frosty morn;
And the iron hoofs make a merry sound
As they clatter over the frozen ground.
Ta ra! Ta ra! Crack! Crack! Heigh-ho!
Then snap the whip, the bugle blow;
For this is the famous Tally-ho.
Our cheeks are red, our noses blue;
But we enjoy it, and so would you.
And we shall have hot pumpkin-pie
And apple-dumplings by-and-by;
A blazing fire to warm our feet,
And a maid to serve us, trim and neat.
Ta ra! Ta ra! Crack! Crack! Heigh-ho!
Then snap the whip, the bugle blow;
For this is the famous Tally-ho.
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, March 29, 1881, by Various
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