Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, May 17, 1881, by Various
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Title: Harper's Young People, May 17, 1881
An Illustrated Weekly
Author: Various
Release Date: December 15, 2014 [EBook #47669]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, MAY 17, 1881 ***
Produced by Annie R. McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE]
* * * * *
VOL. II.--NO. 81. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.
Tuesday, May 17, 1881. Copyright, 1881, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50 per
Year, in Advance.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
[Begun in No. 80 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, May 10.]
THE CRUISE OF THE "GHOST."
BY W. L. ALDEN,
AUTHOR OF THE "THE MORAL PIRATES," ETC.
CHAPTER II.
The next day Charley had the boat drawn up on the shore, and went to
work at her, assisted by the other boys. It took two weeks of constant
work to lengthen her, but when she was finished, everybody admitted that
she was greatly improved.
The jib halyards and sheets, as well as the throat and peak halyards,
were all led aft so that they could be reached by the helmsman without
leaving his post. When all the other work was finished, Charley made a
gun-carriage for the cannon, and it was lashed to the deck just forward
of the mast. Nothing now remained to be done but to name the boat, and
this proved to be the most difficult task of all. Each of the boys could
think of a dozen names that he did not like, but not one that he really
did like. Tom thought that perhaps they could not do better than to call
her the _America_, or the _George Washington_, but admitted that both of
those names were in rather too common use. Harry said that he didn't
much like the idea of calling her the _Red Revenger_, but if they
couldn't find any better name they might have to come to it. Charley
ridiculed the idea of calling her the _Red Revenger_, since she was not
intended to revenge anything, and instead of being red was as white as a
ghost. "Then suppose we call her the _Ghost_," exclaimed Joe.
The other boys asked if he was in earnest, said that it would never do
to call the boat the _Ghost_, and finally agreed that they rather liked
the name than otherwise, on account of its oddity. The end of it was
that Joe's suggestion was adopted, and _Ghost_ was painted in large
letters on the stern.
Three days before the cruise was to begin Jim Sharpe fell down an open
cellarway and broke his leg. The boys at first thought of abandoning
their cruise altogether, but Jim wouldn't hear of it. He told them to
go, and write him letters every few days, and convinced them that he
would really feel hurt if they did not go, so they bade him good-by, and
set sail from Harlem the following Monday morning, half in doubt whether
they ought to enjoy themselves while poor Jim was lying on a sick-bed,
where he was to pass most of his vacation.
The breeze blew gently from the west, and the _Ghost_, with the tide in
her favor, slipped rapidly down the river under full sail. As soon as
the yacht was fairly off, Charley, who was at the helm, divided his crew
into watches. The starboard watch consisted of the Captain and Joe, and
the port watch consisted of Tom and Harry, the former being in command
of it as mate. Each watch was to take charge of the boat in turn, and to
remain in charge four hours, except when the _Ghost_ might be lying at
anchor. The officer in charge of the watch was to steer, while his
companion was to be stationed in the forward part of the cockpit, where
he could handle the centre-board and attend to the jib sheets. Whenever
the officer gave an order, it was to be executed by his companion, and
the other boys were to remain quiet unless "all hands" were called.
Charley had been in the navy long enough to know that no vessel, however
small or however big she may be, can be properly sailed unless every
member of the crew knows what his duty is, and how to do it, and
refrains from interfering with the duty of other men, unless especially
ordered to do so.
The river was crowded with sailing craft and steamboats, and it was no
easy matter to steer the _Ghost_ so as to avoid collision. Every little
while a ferry-boat or tug would whistle hoarsely, and the boys noticed
that very often Charley altered the course he had been steering as soon
as he heard the whistle. "Do those whistles mean anything except for us
to get out of the way?" asked Harry, presently.
"A long whistle or a lot of little short whistles means 'get out of the
road,'" answered Charley; "but when you hear a steamboat give one short
whistle, or two short whistles, she is telling you which way she is
going to steer. Now there's a tug coming up the river straight at us;
you'll hear her whistle in a few minutes, and then I'll know what she's
going to do, and which way to steer to keep out of her way." He had
hardly said this when the tug gave two blasts of the whistle. "That
means she's going to starboard her helm and pass on our right,"
exclaimed Charley, at the same moment heading the _Ghost_ a little more
toward the Brooklyn shore.
"I thought," said Harry, as the steamboat passed between the _Ghost_ and
the New York shore, "that 'starboard' meant right, and 'port' left."
"So it does."
"Then how did that tug turn to the left when you said she was going to
starboard her helm?"
"If I push the tiller over to the left-hand side of the boat, I port my
helm; but the boat turns to the right, doesn't she? Well, the tiller is
really the helm, and every vessel, whether she is steered with a wheel
or not, has a tiller, though it may not be in sight. Now when the helm
is pushed or pulled toward the port side, the vessel turns her head to
starboard, and when it's pushed toward the starboard side, she turns her
head to port. You've got to remember this, for some day if one of you is
steering, and I sing out 'port,' you mustn't make any mistake about it."
"I understand," said Joe. "The boat is always to do the opposite of what
you tell me to do if I'm steering. When you tell me to 'port,' the boat
will turn to the starboard, and when you tell me to 'starboard,' she'll
turn to port. It's very scientific, but it is what I call awfully
contrary."
"The easiest rule for understanding a steamer's whistle is this,"
continued Charley. "If she blows one whistle, she means to pass on the
port side of you; and if she blows two, she means to pass on your
starboard side. Now there are two syllables in starboard, and one in
port, and if you imagine that the two whistles spell 'starboard' and the
one whistle spells 'port,'you won't ever make any mistake."
After this explanation the boys amused themselves listening to the
steam-whistles, and translating them into "starboard" and "port." They
soon saw that the steamers, which could tell what they wanted to do,
were not half so troublesome as the sailing vessels, and that Charley
watched the latter with much greater care than he did the former.
"There ought to be steam-whistles or something of the kind on those
schooners," said Harry, presently. "I suppose they do just as they
please about running people down."
"Oh no," replied Charley. "There's a set of rules for them too. The
captain of that big fellow over there knows that he has the right of way
over the schooner with the torn mainsail, and that he must keep out of
the way of the one with the three masts, close over there by the shore.
It all depends on the course each one is steering; but I'm too busy to
explain it just now. If they obeyed the rules, it would be all right,
but the trouble is they don't consider that a small sail-boat has any
rights, and if we don't want to get run down, we've got to look out for
ourselves and keep out of the way. The steamboats would be just as bad,
only when a steamboat runs anybody down, somebody is sure to say
something about it, and get the captain into a scrape; so they have to
be more careful."
The boys were glad when they passed out of the East River, and by way of
Buttermilk Channel reached the bay, where by skirting the Long Island
shore they were out of the track of steamers and other craft. They had a
delightful sail through the Narrows and down the broad outer bay, where
there was a long gentle swell that gave the boat a just perceptible
roll. About four o'clock they reached the mouth of the little creek
which separates Coney Island from Long Island, and found it so narrow
and shallow that they began to think it was not navigable for anything
larger than a row-boat. Charley allowed the boat to run her bow gently
against the shore, and told Joe to keep her from drifting off while he
climbed up the mast hoops to see how the land and water lay.
He came down in a moment or two, and ordering Joe to shove off, steered
up the creek. "The tide's out, boys," he explained, "and we can't get
through till it comes in again. We'll just run up to a bridge that's
close by, and get the mast down, so that we can be ready to pass under
it to-morrow morning."
They reached the bridge in a few moments; the sails were lowered, and
the _Ghost_ made fast to the timbers of the bridge; and then they began
to wonder how in the world they were going to be able to get the mast
out. They all stood on the bridge and tried to lift the mast, but it was
so heavy that they could not stir it. Had the bridge been a few feet
higher, they could have taken the throat-halyard blocks and rigged a
tackle with which to hoist the mast out, but the bridge was so low that
this could not be done. After they had tried their best to lift the
heavy mast, Charley told them it was of no use, and that they must have
a pair of shears.
"I've got a small pair of scissors," said Tom, "but I don't see how they
will help you any."
"A pair of shears," replied Charley, "is two timbers with the upper ends
fastened together so that they look like a letter A. If we had a pair of
shears ten feet high, we could stand it on this bridge, lash a tackle to
it, and hoist that mast right out. That's the way to hoist a lower mast
out of a ship."
"I can tell you what's better than a pair of shears, though it mayn't be
quite so stylish," said Joe.
"What's that?"
"Why, a pair of darkies," answered Joe. "I see two colored gentlemen
coming down the road who can lift as much as any shears, and we'd better
get them to help us."
The colored men were strong and amiable, and they lifted out the mast
with perfect ease, and refused any payment. Laying the mast along the
deck, the boys went on board the _Ghost_, and getting out the oars,
rowed her a little way up the creek, and made her fast for the night by
carrying the anchor ashore and planting it in a field.
"Now, boys, we'll have supper," exclaimed Charley.
"Who's going to cook?" asked Tom. "On the last cruise we took turns
cooking, just as we did about going for the milk and getting fire-wood."
"By-the-bye, I don't see any fire-wood around here," said Joe, "and I
don't see any chance of getting any milk."
"If the Captain's willing, I'll do the cooking to-night, and get my own
fire-wood," said Harry. "We've got some condensed milk, and we can get
along well enough with that."
"When anybody volunteers to do a really noble act, he ought to be
allowed to do it," said the Captain. "Harry shall get the supper
to-night, but after this we'll take our regular turns. I'll read the
list of assignments every morning, and to-morrow morning I'll get the
breakfast myself."
While this conversation was in progress, Harry was down on his knees
hunting for something under the forward deck. Presently he dragged out a
package wrapped in brown paper, and about the size of a small butter
tub. Then he made a second search, and brought out two bottles, the
coffee-pot, and the cups, plates, and other dishes.
The boys watched him with much interest while he unwrapped the
mysterious bundle. It proved to be a small kerosene stove. Standing it
on the deck out of the way of the boom, Harry filled it with oil from
one of the bottles, and lighted the wick. When it was burning nicely,
the coffee-pot, full of water, was placed on the stove, where it boiled
in a very few minutes. Then, putting the coffee-pot aside, so that the
grounds might have time to settle, Harry put a little frying-pan on the
stove, laid half a dozen sausages in it, and told the boys to pour out
their coffee, for the sausages would be ready for them by the time the
last cup of coffee would be ready. He was as good as his word, and the
sausages were cooked better--so everybody agreed--than sausages had ever
been cooked before.
"Where in the world did you get that stove from?" Tom demanded, as his
last bit of sausage disappeared.
"It is a present to us," replied Harry. "Jim's mother sent it to me this
morning, but she showed me how to use it two or three days ago. She sent
it because poor old Jim couldn't go."
"Poor Jim!" exclaimed Charley. "It's an awful shame he isn't here. We'll
write to him to-morrow, and tell him how splendidly the stove works.
Why, it will save us all the trouble of getting fire-wood for the whole
cruise."
After supper was over, the canvas covering was rigged over the cockpit,
the beds were made, and the boys prepared to sleep.
"This cushion is a great deal softer than the coffee-pot and the tin
cans were last summer," remarked Joe; "but then we used to wake up
early, and now we're so comfortable that we'll probably sleep all the
morning. I don't expect to wake up till ten o'clock."
"You'll wake up in exactly two hours," said Charley, "and stand your
anchor watch. I don't believe in leaving the boat to take care of
herself all night so near to a road as we are. I'll stand the first
watch, from eight to ten, and when your two hours are up, you will call
Harry, who will call Tom at two o'clock, and we'll all turn out at four.
So go to sleep, you fellows, and I'll just put my water-proof round my
shoulders, and sit on deck."
Charley was firmly determined to keep awake until ten o'clock, but it
was very dull work sitting still for two hours. Besides, there was a
very heavy dew, and the young Captain soon found himself growing cold.
He thought he would lie down on deck, and draw the water-proof blanket
over his head, so as to keep himself warm. He did so, and in a few
moments was sound asleep. He woke up about dawn, feeling very cold and
stiff, and creeping into the cabin, took a second nap until nearly seven
o'clock.
"What do you do in the navy with a man who goes to sleep when he is on
duty?" asked Harry, as the crew sat down to breakfast.
"We try him by court-martial, and punish him," answered Charley.
"Then I'd like to know how soon you'll be ready to be tried for going to
sleep last night while you were on watch."
"You did sleep, you know, for I woke up twice in the night and spoke to
you, but you were regularly snoring," said Tom.
"We're awfully sorry about it," added Joe, "but I can't see how such a
crime can be overlooked. It's a dreadful example for a Captain to set,
and if it isn't punished, there won't be any discipline at all on this
vessel."
"We haven't any yard-arm, so we can't hang you very well," continued
Harry; "but we might give you six dozen lashes, and then put you in
irons, if that would suit you."
"You're forgetting one thing, boys," said Charley. "A Captain isn't
required to stand an anchor watch, and has the right to sleep all night
if he wants to. I can't be punished for going to sleep, but all three of
you can. You have no excuse for not coming on deck when it came your
turn, and I ought to punish every one of you, but I shall pardon you
this time. Only mind you don't let it happen again. Now if you have got
through breakfast, the port watch will clear up the deck and then go
below, and the starboard watch will weigh anchor, and get out the oars."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration]
MISTRESS DOROTHY DINKLE.
BY MARY D. BRINE.
Young Mistress Dorothy Dora Dinkle
Lifted her doll with her brow in a wrinkle.
"It's charming to be a mamma," thinks she,
"But I fear there's too much of _this_ dolly for me!"
But young Mistress Dorothy Dora Dinkle,
While holding her child smoothed her brow from its wrinkle.
"I've discovered," said young Mistress Dora, said she,
"After all, there is none too much Dolly for me."
TOM'S CARNIVAL.
BY F. D. MILLET.
'Twas a great pity that Tom couldn't keep a diary, for his life was full
of lights and shadows. He was by nature much of a Bohemian, equally at
home in the hovel and in the palace, but far preferring the free life of
a vagabond to the formal existence in high society. Tom was a shaggy
black terrier, and the way I made his acquaintance was by pulling him
out of the dirty canal in front of my house in Venice one chill morning
in autumn. He was as draggled and wretched a dog as ever was seen. He
was in good flesh, but smeared with mud, and quite worn out by a long
swim and his struggles to scramble upon the _riva_, or landing-place. I
gave him a place near the fire on the stone platform in the kitchen, and
he curled up and steamed and slept until he was dry and rested. He
showed from the first great fondness for me, as the one who had saved
his life, and for three or four days was modest, respectful, and
obedient. Later, he developed habits of willfulness and disobedience.
So, you see, he wasn't altogether a model dog; if he had been, perhaps
his history wouldn't have been half so interesting.
Our house was the last house on the broad canal San Marco, and its
position near the public garden--the only green spot of any size in
Venice--made it a pleasant home for animals as well as men. Tom had for
companions a little white Spitz poodle, Jerry; a black and white
long-haired terrier, whom we called Harry; and Dick, the cat, who lived
on terms of unhappy intimacy with the three dogs, and alternately romped
and fought with them. Whenever we went away in the gondola we always
took the happy family along, and as such a menagerie is uncommon, even
in Venice, our boat made a great sensation wherever we went. This public
exhibition soon told on the manners of our pets, and they got into bad
ways of posing and showing off whenever they were looked at. Perhaps
that is why we used to think them uncommonly sagacious animals.
It was two or three months after Tom's rescue that I found out his
history. One of the maids of honor from the king's palace saw him in our
gondola, and claimed him. She had given him to her gondolier to be cared
for during the cold weather somewhere on the main-land, but he had
played the part of the cruel uncle in the story of the babes in the
wood, and had thrown the dog into the water, intending to drown him, and
still to draw his pay for his keeping. Tom recognized his mistress at
sight, and seemed to say, "I know you, but times are different now."
She, finding him more fond of us than of her, gave him to us, on the
condition that we should bring him to the palace once in a while to
visit her. What a dog of Tom's nature must have suffered in the quiet,
gloomy old palace I will not try to tell, and will only venture to write
down a single chapter of his life with us.
[Illustration: TOM.]
It was the morning of the second day of carnival before we made any
preparations for joining in the sport. As Tom's costume was the only one
in our party decidedly original and unconventional, I will describe that
alone. We kept, in the attic of the house, a number of the pigeons for
which Venice is famous--in fact, a part of the great flock which
assembles daily in the Piazza San Marco to receive food from the city
officials lodged at night in our dove-cote. We selected a pair of fine
white ones, killed them, plucked all the large feathers, and dipped the
quill end of each one in a little dish of melted sealing-wax. In a few
moments we had quite a large pile of them. We seized upon Tom, who was
watching the operation in anticipation of a generous meal off the bones,
heated each little wax tip of the feathers in a candle-flame, and stuck
it to his shaggy coat, beginning at his head, until he was like a
feathered porcupine. On his long ears were rows of broad feathers which
bristled defiantly whenever he raised the angles. Around his neck was a
ruff of tail feathers, and his whole body was tagged with them so
thickly as to nearly hide his black hair. His tail when straight looked
like the feather ornament that an Indian chief wears down his back, and
when it was tightly curled over his back was like a corkscrew of
feathers. His face and lower part of his legs were the only portions
that we left undressed. He seemed twice his natural size when his
costume was completed, and certainly acted as if he fully felt his
apparent greatness. Before he was dressed he looked at our gaudy
costumes with surprise, not unmixed with fear, but when he was feathered
out he became one of us at once. He capered about, barked loudly, looked
impatiently out of the window, and the moment the door was open, he
scrambled into the gondola.
[Illustration: TOM ATTRACTS ATTENTION ON THE GRAND CANAL.]
When we left the _riva_, Tom climbed upon the prow, and balancing
himself on the highest part, excitedly sniffed the air. As our house was
somewhat off the populous canals, we did not meet any boat until nearly
half way to the Piazza San Marco, the central square of the town. Then
we began to overtake gondolas of all sizes hurrying toward the piazza,
crowded with jolly maskers. At the sight of Tom everybody shouted with
delight, "Un' can' che fa carnevale!" (a masquerading dog), and in less
time than it takes to tell it our own gondola, with Tom fairly dancing
with excitement at the prow, was the centre of a shouting multitude.
Oars were splashing, maskers shrieking and clapping their hands, and
gondoliers straining every muscle to bring their overladen boats
alongside. Rarely was any old carnival hero landed with greater
enthusiasm than was Tom in his grotesque costume, and it is worthy of
note that he jumped ashore without his usual involuntary bath. On the
_riva_ he lifted his small paws very high as the crowd of maskers made
room for him, and he pranced away, leading the party to the palace.
In the apartment of his former mistress Tom made a great success, and
posed triumphantly on a sofa until we led him away to visit other
friends. Everywhere he was the hero of the day, and companies of
maskers, fairly intoxicated with mirth, followed his footsteps from one
side of the city to the other, only too glad to find something to laugh
at. Tom's pride kept him up for hours, and he never lost his presence of
mind for a moment. A more thoroughly wearied and self-satisfied dog was
never seen than he was when he tumbled into his corner that evening.
I wish I could record new triumphs of this canine king of carnival, but
fidelity to fact compels me to tell how disobedience was the cause of
his fall. The kitchen fire was simply an open fire of wood, like a camp
fire, built on a raised stone platform about as high as a table, and a
yard and a half square. We often left dishes standing on this platform,
and it was strictly forbidden any one of the animals to get up there on
the pain of immediate and severe punishment. When I came into the
kitchen the morning after Tom's triumph in carnival, his glory was
indeed departed: All the feathers on one side were burned and
shrivelled up; those around his shoulders were torn off, and his tail
ornaments alone remained uninjured. A hollow in the ashes very near the
fire showed where the little wretch had passed the night. I confess I
hadn't the heart to inflict my usual whipping, although he had broken a
salad bowl and a decanter. But I determined to give him the penalty for
a crime of the second degree, and with as much firmness as I could
muster made him follow me into the attic, where I intended to confine
him for an hour or two in a closet--a punishment he dreaded almost as
much as a whipping. The attic was a dark one, so I took a candle, and at
the top of the stairs set it down at a safe distance from a cotton
curtain which covered a row of garments hung upon pegs. While I was
going across the attic to open the closet door, the interior was
suddenly illuminated by a brilliant flame. Turning around, I saw the
whole curtain in a light blaze. To tear it down and trample out the fire
was the work of an instant, and the smoking plume on the end of Tom's
tail showed the cause of the fire. He had swung his plume into the
candle, and then under the curtain, while he stood there sadly wagging
his tail. Of course I could not punish him after this ridiculous
accident, and I gathered the singed animal in my arms, carried him down
into the kitchen again, and shut him up there with his three companions,
while we went away to enjoy the close of the carnival sports.
It was almost dinner-time when we returned with two friends to dine. As
I opened the door Tom sprang upon me, overjoyed to see me. I noticed at
once a suspicious odor of fish about his whiskers, and saw that he was
puffed out like a toy balloon. In the kitchen the mystery was soon
solved. Giovanni, the gondolier, who, after the Venetian custom, filled
the post of cook, carriage-horse, and man-of-all-work, had learned to
make some American dishes, and, to surprise our friends, had made a
number of fish-balls for one of the courses at dinner, and had placed
them on a high shelf over the sink. Now Tom had persuaded the cat to
climb up and throw down the fish-balls, which were neatly arranged on
the heavy chopping board. Cats are very fond of fish, and I dare say it
did not take much eloquence on Tom's part to induce Dick to perform this
feat. And all I found of the fish-balls was a few that were flattened on
the stone floor under the board. Tom, Dick, Jerry, and Harry had all
gorged themselves, and were in a stupid state in consequence. There was
nothing to do but to put them out on the _loggia_ in front of the house,
and there on the cold stone platform they shivered and whined and
scratched the door all through dinner.
If there was any one rule in the house more for the good of the pets
than any other it was that the dogs should not run away. In Venice there
is a large tax on dogs, and they must wear both collars and muzzles.
Neither of our dogs would endure a muzzle for a moment, and so we were
in constant fear of their falling into the hands of the public
dog-catcher, the _coppa cani_. Wherever this man goes, the report of his
movements precedes him, and dogs unlicensed and unmuzzled are hurried
into safety until he is gone. We, of course, feared his approach as much
as any one else, and the absence of any one of the dogs caused great
anxiety in the house.
On the afternoon in question, after a leisurely dinner, we went out on
the _loggia_ to see the pets. Tom was not among them. He had climbed
over the parapet, and made his escape through the ship-yard next door.
This last trick quite exhausted my patience, and I had a heavy rod in
pickle for him. Darkness came on, but the truant did not appear, and we
were all afraid that the _coppa cani_ had found him. At last, about
eight o'clock, I took a turn on the _loggia_ to whistle once more for
the runaway, and I heard a most piteous moan that seemed to come out
from under the house. We all went out and searched, and finally found
that the sounds of distress came from a small sewer that emptied into
the canal directly under the corner of the house. I jumped into the
water, which was only waist-deep, waded round, and rescued Tom from
where he was clinging to the brick-work of the sewer mouth. He had tried
to return through the ship-yard, but had found the gate shut, then,
knowing that if he barked at our door he would get a whipping for
running away, he planned to jump from the _riva_ of the street to our
_loggia_, and to trust to a skillfully assumed look of innocence to
deceive me and save his skin. The distance to jump was fully four feet,
and he fell into the water, as he deserved. What was left of his
carnival costume when I rescued him would not have feathered an arrow.
And what became of Tom? Why, of course the _coppa cani_ got him at last.
All his actions pointed to his probable fate. When I left Venice I
placed him in charge of Giovanni, who was very fond of him. But the life
of a gondolier at a ferry was wanting in just those luxuries which made
Tom's life with us attractive and agreeable. His vagabond habits grew
very fast on him, and Giovanni found it impossible to keep him in the
gondola. At last one bright day in summer he was flung into the dark
cabin of the dog-catcher's dirty boat, and no more was seen of him.
Tom had his vices, but they were very human ones; I have told few or
none of his virtues, but they were remarkable.
HOW TO SAIL A SMALL BOAT.
BY LIEUTENANT WORTH G. ROSS.
[Illustration: CAT-BOAT.]
Boat-sailing is attended with far less hazard than is at first generally
supposed. When proper care is taken, this refreshing sport affords more
real enjoyment than almost any other amusement. It imparts strength,
vigor, and health, and is in every respect a prudent exercise. And when
we consider how little study and practice it takes to attain the
necessary skill to handle a boat with safety, we wonder that there are
not more sailing-masters among the young people.
There are two classes of small boats, depending upon their respective
_rigs_, in most common use in harbors, rivers, and lakes--_cat-boats_
and _sloops_; the former carrying but one sail, secured to a mast placed
forward in the "eyes" of the boat, while the latter has a jib in
addition to the mainsail. These types are shown in the cuts, but often
other sails are used, particularly in racing, and when a good deal of
speed is desired. We will deal with the simplest forms, and shall
describe the _sloop rig_--one used quite as often as any other--bearing
in mind that the principles of true seamanship apply equally to all
boats. The first step is to acquaint one's self with the spars, sails,
rigging, and a few terms. By reference to the diagram we find
represented--
_m m_, the _mainmast_, which is encircled by a number of hoops, to which
the _mainsail_ (A) is secured. These hoops enable you to freely hoist
the sail.
_b b_, the _bowsprit_, which supports the mainmast by means of the
_jibstay_ (_s s_), which leads to the mainmast head, and on which the
_jib_ (B) is hoisted.
_o o_, the _boom_, which extends the foot of the mainsail.
_g g_, the _gaff_, which extends the head of the mainsail.
_y_, the _bobstay_, an extension of the jibstay, and the chief support
of the spars.
_r r_, the _shrouds_, which help to sustain the mast.
[Illustration: SLOOP.]
Now each part of a sail has a name, as follows: the _luff_ (_l_) is that
part which extends along the mast; the _after-leach_ (_h_) is that part
which is stretched between the gaff and boom; the _head_ (_d_) is that
part fastened to the gaff, and the _foot_ (_f_) is the part secured to
the boom. The four corners are, in general, called _clews_, and are
divided into _tack_ (1), _nock_ (2), _peak_ (3), and _clew_ (4). The jib
has a luff or hoist, head, foot, and leach, but only three clews.
The _reef-points_ extend across the sails, and are pieces of small rope
sewed into the canvas for the purpose of "shortening" the sail, when
lowered, by passing and tying the ends under the boom or along the foot.
The mainsail is set by _throat_ and _peak halyards_, which reeve through
small blocks on the gaff, down along the mast to the deck. They are
usually separate, but on small boats are combined in one rope for the
sake of convenience.
The jib is hoisted by _jib-halyards_, which reeve along the jibstay,
through a block at the mast-head, and down on deck.
The _main-sheet_ is a long rope fastened to the boom, double or single,
according to the size of the boat, and is used to trim the sail. This is
the rope which requires most attention, and is the key to boat-sailing.
The _jib-sheets_ are ropes fastened to the clews of the jib, led "aft"
on both sides, and are used to trim down the sail with the wind.
A boat is said to be on the _starboard_ or _port tack_ according as the
right or left side is presented to the wind. The _weather_ side is the
one toward which the wind is blowing; _lee_ is the opposite of weather.
_Close-hauled_, or _full-and-by_, means that a boat is sailing as near
the "eye" of the wind as possible, and the angle formed is about five
points, or 56° 15'.
_Before the wind_ is when the sails receive the direct force of the wind
from "astern."
_Going free_ is when the wind is between the two points just named.
To _belay_ means to make fast, as to belay a rope.
_Helm_ applies to the rudder and tiller. She carries a weather helm when
her head keeps jumping up into the wind (_luffing_), and shakes the
sails, and a lee helm when she is inclined to go off, or away from the
wind. If not evenly balanced, the boat with a weather helm is
preferable. The build and ballast, together with the amount of sail
forward or aft, regulate the disposition of the boat. Thus the pressure
on too much after-canvas gives her a tendency to luff, while a similar
fault with the head-sail would make her go off, which is a very bad
habit indeed, and should always be remedied if possible.
Now supposing that we have our boat well ballasted, properly rigged,
fitted, and trimmed, we will proceed to give some of the main features
of boat-sailing.
The care of the main-sheet is one of the most important facts to bear in
mind, for upon the correct management of this rope depends the speed of
the boat, and in a great measure her safety. In squally weather it
should never be belayed, but only a turn taken around the cleat to ease
the strain from the hand, being ready to cast off in case of an
emergency. No good boat will capsize unless the sails are confined by
the sheets. The position of the boom trims the mainsail, and this is
done by the action of the main-sheet, the boom being regulated in
accordance with the direction of the wind, and the condition of the sea.
When close-hauled, it should be at a sufficient angle with the keel to
insure the boat moving ahead through the water. When running free, the
boom is swung out to a greater degree over the side, and in going before
the wind, or scudding, it is more nearly at a right angle with the mast.
_Tacking_ is the process of working a vessel to windward, or against the
wind. When you are ready, put the helm down (that is, if on the port
tack, the end of the tiller goes to starboard, turning the rudder to
port, and the boat obeys by coming up into the wind); this is done at
the command, "_Ready about!_" As she begins to feel this touch, the
order is given, "_Hard a-lee!_" at which words the jib-sheets are
tended, and as the boat starts into the wind, the announcement "_Let go
the jib-sheets!_" is a signal to your assistant to let the jib fly. When
the craft goes past the direction of the wind, "_Trim down your
head-sheets!_" and soon after, "_Let draw!_" If the boat is sluggish in
coming round, the manoeuvre can be helped by pushing the boom over to
windward.
A very delicate evolution, and one which should only be resorted to in
light summer winds, is _jibing_. It consists in letting the boat go off
slowly from the wind, and while so doing hauling the boom amidships
until the wind, blowing from directly aft, takes the mainsail on the
other tack. In performing this the main-sheet must have plenty of play,
as the boom often whips round with considerable force.
_Reefing_ consists in _shortening_ the sails, and should be attended to
at once on the indications of heavy weather. To reef a jib, let the boat
come to the wind, and lower the sail so that you can pass and tie the
reef-points beneath it. Make the outer clew or tack fast, and shift the
sheets. To reduce the mainsail, lower it a little below the boom (after
bringing to the wind), stretch the foot down by means of the
reef-pennant on the after-leach, and make fast; secure the tack, and
then pass the points, tying with a square knot. In shaking out a reef,
unknot the points first, then cast off the tack, and lastly the
reef-pennant.
_Furling sails_ is the operation of taking them entirely in, and is done
by stowing them snugly along the booms with lashings of rope, called
_gaskets_.
In a small sail-boat, when a thunder-shower is coming up, it is always
safer to go quickly to a harbor, and there bring her into the wind, and
as soon as she loses headway, let go the anchor, and pay out
considerable cable before checking her.
When a sudden squall strikes you, there are two methods to pursue--to
luff, or to slack off the main-sheet so that the sail will "spill." An
experienced boatman usually does the former, but a modification of both
systems will be found advisable. The safest position in an open boat in
thick weather is for all, except the skipper, to sit in the bottom as
near amidships as possible. This prevents the boat from careening, by
bringing the weight in the centre.
In conclusion, I would say that if one has his wits about him, manages
the main-sheet properly, reefs before the storm, and attends to the
rudder, so as to maintain steerage-way, there is no pastime more
harmless, fascinating, and agreeable than boat-sailing.
[Illustration: "SPRING."--FROM A PAINTING BY W. BOUGUEREAU.]
A TRUE STORK STORY.
BY MRS. MARGARET B. PEEKE.
"Did He give us the beautiful stork above,
On the chimney-top, with its large round nest?"
--GOTTLEIB.
"No, not the stork; by God in heaven,
As a blessing, the dear white stork was given."
--LONGFELLOW.
"No house so blessed as that whereon the white stork has built its
nest," says the voice of the people who live in Holland, Germany, and
the regions of the Northland; "and nothing else brings the benediction
of peace and domestic joy that the dear white stork does, for it sheds
over the household something of its own spirit."
Far back in the days of ancient Greece, when Priam was King of Troy, and
the beauty of Helen was rousing the nation to war, Juno, the jealous
goddess, is said to have changed a sister of the king into a white stork
because she boasted of her beauty, but, knowing that she was as lovely
mentally as physically, allowed her to retain all her amiable qualities.
Whether this is the reason of the stork's virtues or not we can not
tell, but in all the countries of the Old World it is regarded with an
affection bordering on veneration. Even in the language of the ancient
Hebrews we find the word used for stork signifying "pious" or "blessed."
Early in the spring of 1880 a pair of newly wedded storks flew over the
town of Löwenberg, Germany, to find a suitable home for their summer
housekeeping. Those who saw them used every art to attract them to their
houses, but in vain. Even the Mayor, or Burgomaster, failed to entice
them to settle on his handsome house, where the chimney seemed to have
been built on purpose for a stork's nest. The stork husband saw this at
a glance, and, ambitious to begin life under the most favorable
circumstances, he said to his wife, in tones quite positive,
"We will build here, my dear; there is no place like it in the whole
town."
But the stork wife replied even more positively: "By no means, my dear.
Too public, by far. Imagine our dainty children annoyed from day to day
by the rattling of carts over the stones, the shouts of noisy boys on
their way to school, and on Sundays the ringing of church bells. No, no,
it would never do. I have found a most delightful spot, shaded from the
hot sun by the broad-leafed linden-tree, and far removed from noise and
confusion. There we can rear our little family in seclusion, and send
out into the world storks that will be an honor to it. Where is it? On
the top of the barn at the cross-roads; not another such place for a
stork's nest in the whole region."
"Just as you say, my dear," said his storkship. "I'll bring the sticks
directly."
Slowly the nest went up. Stick by stick, selected by the stork husband
with great care, and brought from hedge and forest and orchard, until
the nest was completed, the last stick having been properly laid, and
Mrs. Stork settled herself with a satisfied air and began housekeeping.
In a few days eggs were to be seen in the nest; beautiful eggs all
mottled with yellow. Now Mrs. Stork took no more long flights--not even
to see what her friends were doing--but she busied herself at home
sitting upon the eggs to keep them warm. Three weeks passed by in
patience, and then one morning the good creature was delighted by the
sound of young storklings under her wings, chattering with their little
beaks or mandibles, and the stork papa and stork mamma did nothing but
wait upon them.
Summer days' drew near before the storklings could fly. The air was
parched and heated, and the barn had become as dry as tinder; if there
could only be a shower they would have strength to try their wings.
"Oh, how glad I am to see that cloud!" said the stork mamma, as a
little: shadow floated above the western horizon; "all my fledglings
need is a shower, and then they will fly to-morrow."
Larger and darker grew the storm-cloud, until at last the whole sky was
covered. From the north burst sharp flashes of lightning that shot
across the heavens, cutting the darkness of the clouds as with a knife;
then the thunder began to roll in its grand monotone over the world; but
the little storks were not afraid, for had not their mother said this
was just what was needed, and was she not flying over their heads
telling them what it all meant, and picturing to them the delight they
would feel when once they found themselves upborne by the dreamy,
delicious air, in the first ecstasy of flying.
Suddenly there came a crash, a blinding light, and deafening shock,
almost stunning the brave mother bird caring so tenderly for her
children; and when she recovered her consciousness it was to see flames
kindling on the barn, that would burn like tinder, and her storklings
would be burned to death in the heat.
Without a second's pause to consider what might be done, she plunged
into the flames and brought out one of her children in her beak. She
flew to a meadow near by, where a little brook trickled over a pebbly
bed, and laying her burden under the overhanging alders she flew back
for another. This, too, she brought to the meadow and laid by the side
of its brother. One more remained; she must hasten to its rescue; but,
alas! just as she neared the blazing barn she saw the nest and the
little stork fall through the roof into the fire below. A crowd of
spectators had now gathered around, and every heart stood still when the
mother stork again plunged into the crackling flames and smoke for her
child.
Slowly she arose the third time, with something in her beak; but now she
flew slowly and heavily, as if she was weary, and took her way to the
meadow brook again, left it with its brother and sister, and the papa
flying overhead to guard them; then she went a little distance farther
and stretched herself on the ground, cruelly burned.
The little brook rippled and murmured, the breeze blew up from the west,
but none of these things had power to ease the sufferings of the brave
bird, who had risked her life for her children.
The Burgomaster, passing this way soon after, found the poor creature,
and ordered her to be carried tenderly to a house in the village, where
she should be nursed and cared for. The best physician in Löwenberg was
sent for; the children employed all their spare moments in catching mice
and frogs for the invalid; older ones brought soft linen to dress the
burns with, while the Burgomaster himself drove up every morning to ask
after her.
The stork papa devoted himself to the children, flying over every little
while to tell his wife how they were getting along. With all this
attention, it was no wonder that she improved rapidly, was soon able to
fly again and join her family, who by this time were quite up in the art
of flying, and could stand on one foot on a lily-pad, and catch frogs as
well as the best.
The good people of Löwenberg said that many a saint had been less brave
and heroic, few had shown such patience, and none had been willing to
die for others as had this white stork mamma; therefore she should be
the patron saint of the village, and she and her children honored for
evermore.
ONLY ONE.
BY GEORGE COOPER.
Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky;
Hundreds of shells on the shore together;
Hundreds of birds that go singing by;
Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.
Hundreds of dew-drops to greet the dawn;
Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover;
Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn;
But only one mother the wide world over!
TIN TOYS AND TEA SETS.
BY WILLIAM H. RIDEING.
In Avenue D, some time ago, I saw a small boy wheeling a barrel along on
its edge with so much difficulty that I wondered, what it contained, and
looking inside, I saw that it was more than-half full of glistening
scraps of metal. I asked him what they were for. "Oh, them's Dexters,"
he said, as if grieved at my ignorance; and he wheeled his barrel into a
great brick factory, five or six stories high, piled about the door of
which were large wooden cases addressed to Java, Brazil, Cape Town, and
other distant points of the world.
It was in the latter part of April; and though the end of the year was
so far off, these packages were being shipped for the Christmas trade in
the far-away countries named upon them. They were all filled with toys,
and on all the floors of the factory hundreds of busy hands were making
playthings for children. That was what the small boy meant by Dexters.
The scraps of tin in the barrel bore the convex impression of a horse
upon them, and after being trimmed, put together, and painted, they
would look not at all unlike the famous trotter by whose name they are
known.
Dexters are the most popular of all tin toys, and at this factory in
Avenue D they were being made by the thousand for the holiday trade of
the coming winter. The spring and summer months are the busiest at the
factory, which is quietest when the stores are doing their best trade,
in November and December. The seasons with wholesalers and retailers are
not at all alike; and when next Christmas the reader visits a toy-shop,
he may remember that the goods he sees were principally made in May,
June, and August.
The manufacture of tin toys is a new industry in America, and it is so
successful that, besides supplying the domestic market, it sends large
quantities of goods to all parts of the world, including England and
France. When Santa Claus drops in on the children at the Cape of Good
Hope, at Penang, at New Zealand, at Buenos Ayres, and at Callao, he will
have articles from this factory in Avenue D, New York.
Perhaps some of our readers have advanced so far in the serious business
of life that they have forgotten what tin toys are. They are made of
tin, of course, but they comprise many different articles, and over a
thousand different designs. They are mounted on platforms and wheels, or
on wheels alone, and in some of them the revolution of the wheels sets
the figures on the platform in motion. An elephant tirelessly
somersaults on a trapeze, three dogs ascend and re-ascend a ladder, a
little boy chops a tree, a tiger climbs a pole, a girl dances with a
skipping-rope, and a circus rider leaps through a hoop. The trainer is
larger than the elephant, the axe is larger than the boy, and the tiger
balances upon its tail. But this is neither here nor there. As long as
the toys are kept in motion, the figures repeat their feats; and if they
are not quite life-like, they have the advantage of being unwearying in
their exertions.
Tin toys also include locomotives with trains of cars, street cars with
_papier-maché_ conductors and drivers, express wagons, hose-carts, ox
teams, menagerie wagons, ice carts, milk wagons, "four-in-hands,"
trucks, stages, steamboats, fire-engines, and magic lanterns.
They are all made much in the same way as the Dexters: the sheet tin is
struck by heavy dies, and the impressions made in the metal are cut out,
trimmed, and fastened together. Eight dies are used in making a Dexter
four inches long, and the set costs from four to six hundred dollars.
In one of the upper stories of the factory we find a young man with a
pile of tin plates before him, each about four inches long and three
inches wide. He places them one by one on a steel bed-plate, with the
counter die upon it, and putting his foot into the stirrup of a leather
band by which the die is suspended in an iron frame-work, he strikes out
with it, lifting the die, and then allowing it to fall upon the plate,
in which it hollows out a very fair representation of a horse. The
strain on the man's leg is severe, and if he has nerves, they are pretty
well shattered by the cannon-like sound which the die makes in striking.
It must be still worse with the girls who are employed in the same
branch of the business; and as the mass of steel comes down like a
sledge-hammer every two or three seconds, I pity them as I see how it
shakes not only their bodies, but also the beams in the ceiling and the
pillars that hold the building together. The hours are long and dreary
to them, and when the day is ended, the continuous shock has unfitted
them to enjoy the evening. They have no share in the pleasure which the
results of their labor will afford. They do not see the toys giving
happiness to children; and what they think most about, I fancy, is the
number of impressions they can make in a day, for every time the die
strikes it is a bit of bread for them.
Their whole attention must be fixed on the machine in its up-and-down
motion. A moment's carelessness would cost them their fingers; and we
see one girl half of whose hand has been lost by being caught under the
die.
The first die simply hollows out the form in the plate, a second die
cuts away all the surrounding metal, and a third die smooths the edges.
But there is only half a horse so far, and the other half is made in the
same way as the first. Both pieces are then pressed together, and we
have a very shapely racer.
There are several hundred different dies for acrobats, cows, goats,
boys, girls, parrots, monkeys, and other objects of natural history.
In another part of the factory we see several men seated by small
furnaces, over which pans of liquid metal are simmering, and the Dexters
are dipped into these, which additionally secures the two halves. The
next process is coloring. Up to this point the horse has plainly been
tin; but when it is dipped in a bath of white or brown or black paint,
and hung out to dry, it becomes very much more life-like, and has the
glossy surface of an enamel. Dipping is found preferable to painting
with a brush, as it leaves a much smoother surface, and of course can be
done much quicker. The superfluous paint flows back into the bath, and
sometimes strings of it hang from the hoofs and ears. When they are
hard, these strings are cut off with a knife, and the toy is then
secured to a small platform, and "finished." The finishing is done by a
score or more of men and young women seated at long benches, upon which
are pots of paints and brushes. The eyes, mane, tail, and hoofs are
given different colors from the body, and the Dexter is now ready for
packing.
The manufacture of tin toys requires no great ability or ingenuity, and
most of the persons employed in it are paid very little. A Dexter
several inches long can be bought for fifteen cents at any shop, and
this sum includes the profits of the producer, the wholesale merchant,
and the retail seller. The producer's price to the trade is not more
than seven or eight cents. But simple as it is, the toy is handled by
sixteen persons before it finally reaches the little girls who wrap it
in tissue-paper and put it into a card-board box. It travels up and down
stairs, and makes the whole circuit of the factory; it passes from the
dies to the solderers, from the solderers to the paint shops, from the
paint shops to young men who put wheels upon the platform, and thence to
the finishers.
Tea sets and dinner sets of Britannia metal are made in the same
factory. The liquid metal is poured into iron moulds, and cups, saucers,
plates, sugar-bowls, milk-pitchers, and coffee-pots are produced, twenty
or thirty to the minute. Coming out of the mould, they have no lustre,
and they are polished on a lathe, which gives them the appearance of
burnished silver. A complete tea set, with cups and saucers for a doll
and five guests, costs twenty-five cents at retail, and not more than
fifteen cents at wholesale, and the man with the mould has to work
briskly in order to earn his bread and butter.
[Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE No. 80, May 10.]
SUSIE KINGMAN'S DECISION.
BY KATE R. McDOWELL.
CHAPTER II.
The morning passed as usual, with the exception that just before recess
Mr. Gorham stated that he had a few words to say to the school, and
begged the closest attention. It was needless to ask that, for every eye
was already fixed upon the speaker, and every face betokened the
liveliest interest in what he was about to say.
In a few words Mr. Gorham unfolded the May-party project, said the honor
of Queen would be given to the one who stood first in her classes, and
as having looked over the records he found two of the pupils, Miss
Florence Tracy and Miss Susie Kingman, ranked equally high, a vote would
be taken before close of school to decide the matter. He then referred
the girls to Miss Page to find out about their costumes, and finished by
setting the twentieth of June, the last day of school, for the _fête_,
then struck the bell.
The buzzing of voices that followed! Among the many exclamations one
might have heard,
"It's really a _June_ party!"
"All the better, for we never could wear thin dresses out-of-doors in
May!"
"The best kind of a way to end up school!"
"Why, girls, it will be just a month from to-day. Let's find Miss Page
and learn all the particulars."
At this proposal quite a number went into the recitation-room, but
Susie, with her eyes on Florence's sad face, seemed chained to her seat.
"I _must_ decide now," she was thinking. "No; _I can not give it up_. I
gave up to Dick this morning, and that's enough for one day. Then, too,
it's Friday, visitors' day, and I should just like to show them how well
I stand. And when papa hears of my success he'll be delighted; he always
is when he thinks I'm getting on well in my lessons. Oh no; I _can not,
can not_ give it up! Of course I shall vote for Florence, and that's all
I can be expected to do. I haven't asked the girls to vote for me, and
I'm not supposed to know anything about it."
"But you _do_ know about it," said the still, small voice. "You know,
moreover, that you can make Florence very happy, and that it will not
affect your standing in the least."
"Oh dear!" sighed Susie. "I suppose I'll have to give it up, but I can
wait until after the votes are counted, and then say I prefer Florence
to have the place."
"Ah!" interposed Conscience, "your idea is 'to be seen of men.' There is
no charity in that, and, besides, how would Florence feel to be so
patronized? If you give it up at all, do it entirely and cheerfully."
"Oh, I can not, I really can not. It will be lovely to have all the
girls for my subjects, to be waited on by them, and pass under their
garlands. Why does every word I read this morning in the commentary keep
coming into my mind, about one's being willing to have another honored
if one can be more honored one's self? How exactly that applies to my
giving up to Florence _after_ being elected myself; and then that 'In
honor preferring one another' has been running in my head all the
morning. I'll just stop thinking about it, and go in Miss Page's room
with the rest, and talk over the dresses. That reminds me. That lovely
one I had made in the fall for Cousin Clara's wedding--I believe it will
be the very thing." And she hastily went down the passage between two
rows of desks.
[Illustration: FLORENCE AND SUSIE IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.]
Florence caught her hand as she went by, and said, "I know the question
is as good as decided, Susie, and I shall hail you as our Queen as
gladly as any other of your friends."
Susie tried to thank her, but the words would not come; and instead of
going into Miss Page's room, she took an opposite direction to a vacant
one, used for certain meetings, and there she sat down, saying: "Only
ten minutes left me."
"Yes," suggested Conscience, "ten minutes to decide you will show
yourself unselfish, will make a fellow-creature very happy, and that you
try to live up to the teachings of the Bible."
There were tears in Susie's eyes; in fact, one or two had rolled down
her cheeks, when she slowly said, "I've decided," and on looking toward
the door saw Sadie.
"You're the one I want," said Susie, trying to speak in her usual tones.
"I was just going for you."
Sadie noticed her tear-streaked cheeks and effort to speak cheerfully,
so hastened to say, comfortingly,
"Don't worry an instant; it's just as I said; every girl in the school
will vote for you."
"That's just what they mustn't do," said Susie, earnestly. "Oh, Sadie!
_do_ promise you'll make me very happy by _not_ voting for me."
"Not voting for you!" cried the astonished girl. "What do you mean?"
"Hush, Sadie! somebody will hear you. I mean _this_: that you must get
all the votes you can for Florence. It will make me a thousand times
happier than to be Queen myself; and just think of Florence! You said
yourself she never looks happy, and now we'll all unite to make her so."
"Oh, Susie," said Sadie, after a moment's pause, "how good you are to
propose such a thing, and how Florence will love you for it!"
"No, no," protested Susie. "Sadie, of all things, Florence must never
know, never even _suspect_; that would spoil it all."
"I'm so bewildered!" said Sadie. "What _can_ we do in the few minutes
left? As you say, how delighted Florence will be! but _I_ never could
have given it up, Susie--_never_!"
"Oh, yes you could, if you knew how great the joy was that followed,"
said Susie, simply. "I wonder now that I hesitated a moment."
They both went among the different groups of girls, and there was more
whispering than ever, and numberless expressions of wonder, always
silenced by, "Hush! Florence will hear, and she must never know." The
ringing of the bell put an end to all stifled exclamations, and the
scholars were soon in their seats.
Sadie asked permission to speak. Mr. Gorham smiled, knowing she had been
talking every moment for the past half-hour, nevertheless he granted it.
She leaned over and whispered to Susie, "Ten or twelve girls went out to
walk at recess, and haven't heard the new plan."
"Never mind," returned Susie. "It will seem all the more natural to have
a divided vote."
The usual Friday visitors now began to come in to listen to the readings
and recitations that always took place on the last school afternoon of
the week, and among them was one who had never before presented
himself--Squire Tracy.
"All the better," whispered Sadie, forgetting in her excitement that her
permission to speak had long since expired. And Susie signaled a "yes"
in reply.
After the weekly exercises were over, Mr. Gorham explained to the
new-comers about the May-party, gave the names of the two scholars for
whom votes were to be cast, and then handed each of the forty girls a
slip of paper on which to write the name of her choice for Queen.
The Squire grew interested. He wiped his glasses, and looked about for
Florence. She could not raise her eyes for thinking, "Oh, uncle has no
idea what a popular girl Susie Kingman is! What _will_ he think when I
don't get any votes?"
The Squire caught her eye at last, and nodded encouragingly. "He never
looked so kindly at me before," moaned the unhappy girl. "He really
thinks I've as good a chance as Susie," and her eyes filled with tears
as she traced Susie's name on her paper.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration]
A CHINESE ADVENTURE.
BY PALMER COX.
Three heathen men set out one day
To cross the China sea--
Ah Hong Wun Ho, Gui Tong Pi Lo,
And daring Hup Si Lee.
But there was not, of all the lot,
A single one who knew
The proper way in which to sail
Upon the ocean blue.
The first was captain of the ship,
He kept an eye ahead;
The second played the part of mate,
He steered and heaved the lead;
[Illustration]
The third was boatswain, cook, and crew,
Which kept him on the go;
He had to spread the sail aloft,
And make the tea below.
The winds began, the billows ran,
The ship went up and down;
At times she pointed out to sea,
As often back to town.
The seasick captain left the bow,
Between the decks to lie;
The boatswain, busy making tea,
Let all the canvas fly.
[Illustration]
And, oh! the mate, the silly mate,
The worst of all was he;
To find how deep the water lay,
He leaped into the sea.
Then mate and crew, and captain too,
Began to yell and roar;
So people threw them out a line,
And hauled the ship ashore.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
We have received the following letter from the little colored girl whose
appeal for school-books was printed in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 76. It is
gratifying to see that our young friends have responded so heartily to
her petition for help. And they will all be happy when they read her
grateful words of thanks.
LINCOLNTON, NORTH CAROLINA.
MY KIND FRIENDS,--Your books, papers, and cards are very nice. I
did not expect to get so many. You are all so kind, I do not know
how to thank you for them.
My writing is so bad, but I hope it will get to the YOUNG PEOPLE.
I get letters and books every day from the Post-office, and some
books by express. One little girl sent me a dollar. I will divide
with my brothers and sisters, and I will give some of the books to
the colored children who come to the Sunday-school. The ladies
told me to do this, and I think I ought to, because they have
none. Yours, with many thanks,
HANNAH MCDANIEL.
Accompanying Hannah's letter was also one from one of the ladies who
have taught her to read and write. It will be of interest to those who
have bestowed kindness on this poor little girl.
Through the kindness of YOUNG PEOPLE in publishing little Hannah's
letter, she has received many favors, for which her mother's family
feel deeply grateful. It is charity well bestowed. May God bless
the donors!
Hannah's father died last October. Her mother is a good, worthy
woman, brought up in my mother's household with the care of one of
her own children. Both were our trusty faithful servants and
friends for more than thirty years.
We try to do what we can in the way of teaching the colored
children around us, thus following the example of our father, who
died before the war, while a missionary to the colored people in
South Carolina, but our greatest obstacle has been a lack of
books, which we were not able to provide.
I write this letter at the request of Hannah's mother.
MISS M. R. MCDANIEL.
* * * * *
PHOENIX, ARIZONA.
I get YOUNG PEOPLE every week, but it has to come a long way to
find me. Arizona is so far off from the great cities that one might
think we would be deprived of good schools, Sunday-schools, and
other things we left at home, but we have them all, of the very
best, too. Our school has over two hundred scholars, and our
Sunday-school over one hundred, and we have a fine library and an
organ.
We have lived in Arizona nearly ten years, and are delighted with
it. We came four thousand miles to reach here, and on the way
crossed the Rocky Mountains, and ever so many great rivers and hot
deserts.
We live in the beautiful valley of Salt River, which is a branch
of the Gila. The population here is made up largely of Indians and
Mexicans, with a great many Chinese and some negroes. We find this
a good place to study Spanish, as there are so many people here
who speak that language.
I wish I could tell my little fellow-readers of the many strange
reptiles and other things here, and I wish they could see the
valley scenery. It is so beautiful, covered with the green grain,
which is now nearly ready for harvest. I know they would like to
see the little donkeys the Mexicans use to pack wood on. They call
the donkeys _burros_. And there are so many funny little Indian
babies here that they call pappooses. My letter is long enough.
_Adios._
LINDLEY B. O.
* * * * *
NORWAY, MAINE.
I am going to school, and I have to board away from home. I have
taken YOUNG PEOPLE ever since it was published, and I was keeping
my papers as nice as I possibly could, to have them bound, when our
house burned down, and all of our furniture and everything in the
house was lost. I lost all my books and playthings and all my nice
little papers. I had ever so many playthings, and I had one wax
doll and two nice china dolls. I was making a collection of postage
stamps, and I had nearly two hundred. I felt very badly to lose all
my things, yet I was so thankful that my papa and mamma escaped
from the house alive! It was a very dark night, and they did not
wake up until the fire was almost to their room. I was away from
home at school. I send my love to all the little girls that take
YOUNG PEOPLE. I am ten years old.
MAUD A. R.
* * * * *
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK.
Last Saturday I sent seventeen letters full of stamps. I am
beginning to feel a little better now, as I only get three or four
letters a week.
The pea-nut owl in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 73 made me laugh so that mamma
let me buy a quart of pea-nuts, and showed me how to make one. I
have a nice branch with lots of little branches, and I make owls
of all sizes, and fasten them on. They look so comical, they make
everybody laugh who sees them. Instead of tissue-paper for wings,
I take light wrapping paper just the color of the pea-nut, and ink
it a little, and it looks splendid.
PERCY L. MCD.
* * * * *
AGAWAM, MASSACHUSETTS.
I would like to tell the boy in Ohio that my brother Lewis had some
chickens hatched on the 20th of March, but I guess the little
things thought it was pretty cold weather.
My grandma says that a ten-quart pail full of sap from large old
maple-trees will make a pound of sugar.
JENNIE P.
* * * * *
NAUVOO, ILLINOIS.
I live near the Mississippi River. There are mounds near here. My
uncle dug into one of them, and between two layers of flat stones
he found some Indian bones.
ANNABEL E. S.
* * * * *
PORTLAND, CONNECTICUT.
Mamma reads to me the stories about kitties and dogs that belong to
other little girls who write to YOUNG PEOPLE, and some of them are
as well educated as my Fritzie. When I speak to Fritzie, he
understands all I say to him; I am sure of it. When I feed him, he
waits patiently until I hand him the food. I have the meat cut up
very fine, and then I sit down in my little rocking-chair with the
plate in my lap, and pass the food to Fritzie with a silver fork.
Everybody is pleased to see him eat. He never snaps at the meat,
but takes it very gently from the fork, and eats it like a
gentleman. He will sit up in a chair and have a napkin pinned round
his neck before he eats; that is to keep his vest clean. I saw a
picture in a book of an ill-mannered dog that had eaten up a little
child's dinner. I feel sorry there are such wicked dogs in the
world. Fritzie would scorn such an action. He would protect the
little girl, like the "Faithful Sentinel" in YOUNG PEOPLE No. 71.
Fritzie looks just like that picture. He is as brave as a lion. He
catches rats, and every night he goes with the night-watchman to
the factory to help him. So he works very hard too. He is getting
old, but if he lives until summer, mamma says she will have his
photograph taken.
NEVA E. A.
* * * * *
DES MOINES, IOWA.
Will some correspondent please tell me what a Florida sea-bean is?
L. M. G.
If some of our Southern readers will write a description of the Florida
sea-bean, its size, color, and how and where it grows, we will gladly
print it.
* * * * *
The following letter is from a very little boy who is just learning to
write English:
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA.
I receive HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE every week. I am so contented with
it that you can not imagine about it. I love those little engines
to make, and those tricks, and I hope that they will be more.
VIRGIL GIACOBBI.
* * * * *
I will give seventy-five rare stamps for the 30-cent and 90-cent
United States stamps of the issue of 1869. The 30-cent is red and
blue, with the device of an eagle mounted on a shield surrounded by
flags at base, and the 90-cent is carmine and black, and has
Lincoln's head. I will give forty-five stamps for the 90-cent, and
thirty for the 30-cent. These two stamps will complete my whole set
of United States stamps. I have two hundred and thirty--no local or
revenue stamps counted.
E. GUDEMAN,
112 River Street, Hoboken, N. J.
* * * * *
I will exchange a miniature yacht for a printing-press, type, and
general printing outfit. The yacht is twenty inches long, five and
three-quarter inches wide, four inches depth of hold, mast sixteen
and one-quarter inches in height from deck. It is sloop-rigged, and
finished up in a very handsome manner with paint, varnish, etc. It
is a first-class sailer, and as good as new. It was built in a most
substantial manner by an Eastern boat-builder. The boat will be
securely boxed and sent by express.
Please write describing press and outfit before sending any
package.
W. J. DOUGHTY,
684 Communipaw Avenue, Jersey City, N. J.
* * * * *
I have twenty varieties of the cactus family, to which I wish to
add as many more as possible. I will gladly exchange cuttings with
any one.
GUSSIE E. PEEBLES, Cobden, Ill.
* * * * *
I would like to tell the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE a nice way to
preserve the color of autumn or forest leaves. First sprinkle the
leaf with a little resin, and rub a warm iron lightly over it. Then
dissolve some red aniline in water, and brush over the surface of
the leaf with a feather. Hold the leaf near the fire a few moments,
and it will assume the most brilliant colors--green, bronze, etc.
I have several old newspapers printed in 1804 and 1805. One is
dated July 13, 1804, and contains the first news that reached
Philadelphia of the duel between General Hamilton and Aaron Burr.
I will exchange one of these for ten stamps from Mexico or Central
or South America.
I will also exchange three stamps--the United States blue
three-cent, issue of 1869; the red three-cent, issue of 1861; and
one from either New Zealand or the East Indies, for one
three-cornered Cape of Good Hope stamp; or one from New Brunswick
or Newfoundland, issue of 1857 or 1860.
MAURICE A. MCMILLAN,
Washington C. H., Fayette Co., Ohio.
* * * * *
R. Carpenter, Chicago, Illinois, desires to notify correspondents that
he received so many applications for his stamps and postmarks that his
small stock was exhausted in less than a week after his offer of
exchange was printed. He will answer every letter as soon as possible,
and either return the stamps he has received, or give an equivalent.
* * * * *
The address of Irvin P. Knipe and brother, whose offer of exchange
appeared in the Post-office Box of YOUNG PEOPLE No. 78, should read
Norristown instead of Morristown.
* * * * *
Harry Robinson, Wilkesbarre, Pennsylvania, wishes the address of the
correspondent who sent him a specimen of lead ore in a Tiffany & Co.
box.
* * * * *
Arthur Davenport, Chicago, Illinois, notifies correspondents that he has
no more crystallized quartz to exchange.
* * * * *
Annie Wheeler, Danville, Virginia, requests the address of the young
lady who sent her a lot of West India flower seeds.
* * * * *
Eddie Gordon, Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, desires to notify correspondents
that his stock of Indian arrow-heads and pottery is exhausted.
* * * * *
The following exchanges are offered by correspondents:
Indian arrow-heads, for foreign coins. A petrifaction of a fish's
head, for old United States coins.
MARTIN J. BRITTING, West Covington, Ky.
* * * * *
Ten postmarks, for two South American stamps.
S. M. BUSSELL,
106 East Thirty-first Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Carnelians, or specimens of oak, birch, poplar, cherry, and sumac,
for specimens of foreign woods.
RAY S. BAKER,
Saint Croix Falls, Polk Co., Wis.
* * * * *
A few Indian relics, an ounce of soil from Indiana, and some other
curiosities, for coins from any foreign country except England.
F. T. COLE, Economy, Wayne Co., Ind.
* * * * *
Pieces of lava, a fossilized fern, lead ore, and other minerals,
for gold or copper ore, or Indian arrow-heads. Please write before
sending specimens.
HARRY C., Bergen Point, Hudson Co., N. J.
* * * * *
One-cent and three-cent Canadian stamps, for Canadian stamps of a
higher denomination. Two three-cent for one six-cent.
ROBERT L. CARROLL,
84 Carver Street, Boston, Mass.
* * * * *
Rocks and earth from Indiana, with five kinds of foreign stamps,
for rocks and earth from any other State; or stamps from Brazil,
Sandwich Islands, British Guinea, Hong-Kong, Japan, Finland, and
other countries, for stamps of equal value.
DAN L. DORSEY,
25 West Georgia Street, Indianapolis, Ind.
* * * * *
Twenty foreign postage stamps for Indian relics.
A. J. DENT, care of J. E. Dent,
P. O. Box 200, Columbia, S. C.
* * * * *
Curiosities of all kinds.
R. P. C. and R. H. D., P. O. Box 144,
Riverside, San Bernardino Co., Cal.
* * * * *
A new, good-toned violin, bow, and instruction-book, for a good
self-inking printing-press and outfit. A collection of stamps from
Barbadoes, Brazil, Cuba, and other countries, for the set of
Nicaragua stamps, a Malta stamp, and two Bermuda, the lilac
sixpence, and the green one shilling.
EDWIN GARCIA, JUN.,
342 West Ninety-sixth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Crystallized quartz, flint, and iron pyrites, for foreign coins of
every country except Canada, minerals, or anything good for a
collection.
AARON GOLDMAN,
2933 Prairie Avenue, Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
Ten foreign stamps, gold ore, nickel salts, and a Florida sea-bean,
for an Indian stone tomahawk.
FRANK HARRIS,
114 St. James Place, Brooklyn. N. Y.
* * * * *
Nineteen foreign stamps and two due stamps, for an Indian bow and
arrow.
FRANK GOODALE,
633 Greene Avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
Thirty-six postmarks, nine stamps (no duplicates), a star-fish, a
Florida bean, and a small piece of flint, for Indian relics or
specimens from the Mammoth Cave. Correspondents will please send
postal before sending specimens, and if not answered, they will
know the stock is exhausted.
NELSON GARDNER,
213 Halsey Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
United States War Department stamps, and sea-beans, for curiosities
of all kinds, or anything suitable for a museum.
CAMPBELL T. HAMILTON,
McPherson Barracks, Atlanta, Ga.
* * * * *
Stamps from the Eastern hemisphere, for stamps from the Western
hemisphere.
FLETA M. HOLMAN,
Corner Wells and Twenty-seventh Streets,
Milwaukee, Wis.
* * * * *
A stone from Arkansas, for one from any other State except
Missouri.
L. W. HASKELL,
Pastoria, Jefferson Co., Ark.
* * * * *
Newspaper stamps, and Canadian and some other foreign stamps, for
rare foreign, old United Slates, and department stamps. Please send
lists. Also postmarks from all parts of the Northwest, for stamps.
Ten postmarks, for any desirable stamp.
C. L. H. and T. C. H.,
72 Grant Place, Chicago, Ill.
* * * * *
Foreign and United States postage stamps, some rare, for Indian
arrow-heads or other rare stamps.
F. HOWLAND,
52 West Nineteenth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Stamps.
HENRY H. JOHNSON,
131 East Seventieth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Ten foreign stamps, for twenty-five postmarks.
LAWRENCE B. JONES,
P. O. Box 1036, Wilkesbarre, Penn.
* * * * *
Hamburg local stamps and postmarks, for stamps, postmarks, Indian
relics, and entomological specimens.
E. G. JOHNS,
Flemington, Hunterdon Co., N. J.
* * * * *
Postmarks, for postmarks; or postmarks for stamps.
MABEL LANCASTER, care of C. B. Lancaster,
P. O. Box 339, Newton, Mass.
* * * * *
Rare Indian pottery, for Chinese or Japanese stamps, or for silver
or gold ore.
CHARLES W. LANSING,
Plattsburg, Clinton Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Fossils and minerals, for sea-weeds and shells.
DOCIA LOWRY, Elizabethtown, Hardin Co., Ill.
* * * * *
Twenty postmarks (no duplicates) of Pennsylvania, for twenty of any
other State except Iowa.
WILLIAM A. LEWIS,
P. O. Box 108, Lewisburg, Union Co., Penn.
* * * * *
Five German and three other European stamps, for one Cashmere
stamp.
FRANK L. LONG,
720 North Sixth Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
* * * * *
Shells from the Bahama Islands, for pressed flowers from
California.
E. LULU LESLIE,
434 Prospect Street, Cleveland, Ohio.
* * * * *
Foreign postage and United States revenue stamps, for foreign
postage stamps.
EDWARD MAYO, P. O. Box 291, Bristol, R. I.
* * * * *
Twenty postmarks, for five foreign stamps. A foot-power scroll-saw,
six saw blades, impression paper, designs, and directions, sent
carefully by express or freight, for eight hundred foreign and
United States stamps (no duplicates), or a self-inking
printing-press.
MAYNARD A. MURPHY,
179 Charlotte Avenue, Detroit, Mich.
* * * * *
Postmarks, stamps, and minerals, for minerals.
ALICE G. ROOT, Clinton, Oneida Co., N. Y.
* * * * *
Ten foreign stamps, for one foreign coin.
HOWARD C. ROUZER,
Mechanicstown, Frederick Co., Md.
* * * * *
Soil or newspapers of New York, for the same from any other State.
FRED I. SMITH,
144 Sands Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.
* * * * *
A stone from Illinois, for one from any other State or Territory. A
piece of lead ore for five foreign stamps. A petrified shell or a
piece of mica for two foreign stamps. An Indian arrow-head, for
thirteen foreign stamps.
NED ROBINSON, Fairfield, Ill.
* * * * *
Ten postmarks, for one foreign stamp.
ELLISON SNYDER, P. O. Box 564, Scranton, Penn.
* * * * *
Stamps.
M. STIEFEL,
36 East Sixtieth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Canadian, English, United States, or West Indian postage stamps,
for foreign stamps. Six stamps from any of these countries, for an
Indian arrow-head, or any curiosity suitable for a museum.
ROBERT W. SHERDTON,
9 North Street, Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
* * * * *
Postmarks, for postmarks. Soil of New York, for the same from any
other State. Twenty foreign postage stamps, for sea-shells and
curiosities from the Pennsylvania coast.
HENRY F. STEELE,
Babylon, Long Island, N. Y.
* * * * *
Stamps, ores, coins, and minerals, for ores, minerals, curiosities,
and fossils. Coal fossils especially desired.
E. K. SCHEFTEL,
18 East Fifty-seventh Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Foreign and United States stamps, United States department stamps,
and hand-painted shells, for postage stamps, coins, minerals,
Indian arrow-heads, and other relics, or any curiosity.
JOHN B. TYRRELL,
412 Second Street N. E., Washington, D. C.
* * * * *
Stamps and postmarks. Or an ounce of sand from Michigan, for the
same from any other State.
WILLIE J. TROTT, St. Charles, Saginaw Co., Mich.
* * * * *
Twenty foreign postage stamps, for Indian relics or arrow-heads.
H. TUTTLE,
145 Ellison Street, Paterson, N. J.
* * * * *
Stamps from Sweden, Germany, Italy, France, and the United States,
for Indian relics, shells, or minerals. Correspondents will please
write before sending package, stating what stamps they wish, and
what curiosity they have to exchange.
ALBERT WOOLLEY, care of Richard Woolley,
P. O. Box 1391, Cincinnati, Ohio.
* * * * *
Postmarks, United States revenue and foreign postage stamps, for
flower and garden seeds.
WILLIE M. WHITHELD,
235 West Thirty-fourth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
A stamp from France, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Bavaria, and
Hungary, for five South American, African, or United States
Treasury or Interior Department stamps.
WILLIE F. WILLIAMS,
Plainfield, Union Co., N. J.
* * * * *
About one thousand rare postage stamps in an Oppens stamp album, to
exchange entire or in sets, for rare coins.
F. A. WARE,
138 West Thirty-sixth Street, New York City.
* * * * *
Stamps from Austria, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and other foreign
countries, for stamps, minerals, and curiosities.
L. E. WALKER,
Lock Box 316, Lansing, Mich.
* * * * *
An ounce of soil or a stone from California, for a foreign postage
stamp and five postmarks, or an Indian relic.
CLEMENT C. YOUNG,
Biggs, Butte Co., Cal.
* * * * *
Foreign and United States stamps. Liberian and Asiatic stamps
especially desired.
C. A. VAN RENSSELAER, Orange, N. J.
* * * * *
Soil from Pennsylvania and foreign postage stamps, for Indian
curiosities.
F. A. TIFFT,
326 South Sixteenth Street, Philadelphia, Penn.
[_For other exchanges, see third page of cover._]
* * * * *
ETHEL B.--Your Wiggle is so pretty and so very neatly drawn that we
regret its late arrival.
* * * * *
YOUNG GARDENER.--Asparagus is a native of Southern Europe and Africa,
and was brought to America by the Europeans. It was a favorite dish with
the ancient Romans, but was unknown in England until about the beginning
of the seventeenth century.
* * * * *
ERNEST C.--The magot is a little tailless monkey not much larger than a
cat. Great numbers of magots live in the forests of Northern Africa.
This monkey is as nimble as a squirrel. It is easily tamed, and makes an
affectionate and amusing pet. It is also found on the Rock of Gibraltar.
* * * * *
JOHN N. W.--We can supply no more bound copies of the first volume of
YOUNG PEOPLE.
* * * * *
G. E. P.--It is against the law to send either living or stuffed birds,
animals, or reptiles by mail.
* * * * *
J. B. S. AND WILLIE S. S.--We do not know of any good elementary works;
but if you read carefully, you will be able to understand Hitchcock's
_Geology_ and Dana's _Mineralogy_, and will find them very useful books.
* * * * *
W. H. B.--Any old stamps are good for purposes of exchange.--A United
States cent of 1799 is always worth something, as it is the most rare
issue; but as its value depends entirely on condition, you would better
show your specimen to some collector or dealer, who will prize it for
you. The paragraph to S. S. in the Post-office Box of No. 69 will show
you the variation in the value of this coin.
* * * * *
ARCHERY CLUB, KANSAS.--We shall be glad to have a report of your archery
meeting, a description of your bows and arrows, and a record of the best
shots.
* * * * *
Correct answers to puzzles have been received from "_Ajax_," Jemima
Beeston, Ray B., Josie Chesley, C. H. Cole, De Forest W. Chase,
"_Dollars and Cents_," Harry E. Dixon, Horace F. Fuller, W. K. Grithens,
B. Goldenberg, Nellie P. Hazard, C. W. Hanner, Eddie Hequembourg,
William Hadley, Willie C. Jones, Lucy C. Kellerhouse, Bessie Linn,
"_Lodestar_," Fannie and Katie Metzgar, "_Pepper_," Carrie C. Pelham,
"Pickwick," Torrance Parker, _Augusta L. Parke_, "_Queen Bess_," Effie
R., "Sir Tinly," Robert G. Steel, S. Ware Sheppard, G. P. Salters, Bell
T. Smart, _Addie and Arthur S._, Marion I. Wright, "Will A. Mette,"
_Frank B. Westwood_, Frank S. Willock.
* * * * *
PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.
No. 1.
ENIGMA--(_To Lodestar_).
In dancing, not in mirth.
In saddle, not in girth.
In crony, not in friend.
In borrow, not in lend.
In harrow, not in plough.
In salute, not in bow.
In cart, not in buggy.
In rainy, not in muggy.
In youth, not in age.
In servant, not in page.
In nod, not in sleep.
In gaze, not in peep.
In valley, not in glen.
My whole is in honor of brave men.
NORTH STAR.
* * * * *
No. 2.
DIAMONDS.
1. A letter. A weight. A claw. A man's name. A wanderer. To incline. A
letter.
FRANK.
2. A letter. A vessel for holding water. A name. Steel instruments.
Obscure vision. To mistake. A letter.
PRINCESS.
* * * * *
No. 3.
TWO EASY SQUARES.
1.--1. A courier. 2. Across. 3. Dry. 4. A vegetable growth.
PRINCESS.
2.--1. To cut. 2. Part of a wagon. 3. A kind of earth. 4. Something much
desired by a prisoner, but always guarded by the jailer.
DAMON AND PYTHIAS.
* * * * *
No. 4.
ENIGMA.
In darkness, not in light.
In duty, not in right.
In answer, not in riddle.
In saucepan, not in griddle.
In half, not in quarter.
In fluid, not in water.
In lend, not in borrow.
In glee, not in sorrow.
I am only seen by day
When the clouds are far away.
L. H. C.
* * * * *
ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 79.
No. 1.
Alleghany.
No. 2.
L
B E T
F A V O R
M A R I N E R
No. 3.
1. A new broom sweeps clean. 2. Caractacus. 3. Hemlock. 4. Copenhagen.
* * * * *
NEW GAMES.
"Mon," "Blind Pilgrims," and "Cash," three new games that can be played
on the same board, have been lately adapted from the Japanese by Mr.
Edward Greey, and published by McLoughlin Brothers, New York. They are
capital games, and will serve to while away many a pleasant hour of the
summer vacation.
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.
[Illustration: "ARE YOU GOING TO THE BALL THIS EVENING?"]
A PERSONATION.
Though buried in an obscure little grave-yard in the heart of what might
be called "the metropolis of the world," nearly two hundred years ago,
even now travellers take pains to find my burying-place. Like all boys,
I was rather averse to work, fonder of dancing and playing, and when
only seventeen enlisted in the Parliamentary army (for I lived during
the great civil war in England), but never distinguished myself by my
prowess, and at the siege of Leicester, in 1645, escaped death by
allowing a fellow-soldier to take my post as sentinel.
After the campaign, having had enough of a soldier's life, I returned
home, married in 1647, and, owing to the influence of my wife, led a
more regular life. Years afterward, in one of my books, which I have
always thought more of than the public, I gave an account of my career
while in the army, but the work is not read now by any one. I became
deeply interested in religion, and so grieved at the wretched state of
the poor people around me that, although it was forbidden by law, I
could not refrain from preaching in the open air to such as would come
to hear me. I had done this for five years, when, Charles II. being
restored to his father's throne, all such practices were more
strenuously forbidden, and I was warned; but, continuing my efforts in
the cause of religion, I was thrown into jail.
Here I remained for twelve years, and though my liberty was often
offered me if I would swear never to preach, I invariably answered, "If
you let me go to-day, I will preach again to-morrow."
At last the misery of my family, and my steadfast persistence in what I
felt to be right, produced an effect, and I was allowed, under
conditions, to preach to the congregation who had chosen me for their
minister; and in 1672, through the influence of the Bishop of Lincoln, I
was released from jail.
I continued my preaching and writing, and in 1678 the first part of my
book was published, after much deliberation, for many of my friends had
tried to persuade me not to print it. As it was a religious allegory, it
attracted but little attention at first, but it soon grew in public
favor, and during my life it went through fifteen editions. In 1682 I
published my _Holy War_, and two years later the second part of my
"great work," which is, however, deemed inferior to the first part.
A few years before my death I went to London to live, in Snow Hill, near
Holborn. I was at the service of any one in distress who needed me; and
one day, coming home from a benevolent errand, was caught in a violent
rain-storm, took cold in consequence, and died after a brief illness,
having lived to see my name and book become famous. The editions of my
"great work" have been innumerable, and, save the Bible, no book has
been translated into so many languages, nor had so many readers, nor
such a hold on people. The famous critic Lord Macaulay said he made a
point of reading it through every year.
A ROUND GAME OF CARDS.
BY G. B. BARTLETT.
Among the many ways of waking up a dull company, willing to be amused if
any one knows how to do it, we recommend the following game, which never
fails to make plenty of fun: Take a pack of cards, and pass the top one
to the person next on the right, calling out, in a loud voice, "Take the
ten of diamonds," if that happens to be uppermost. The one who receives
the card passes it to the next, with the same words, and so on around
the room. The second card follows the first instantly, and all thus are
kept busy with hand and tongue without a moment's delay or rest, as the
name of each card follows its predecessor at once, and the confusion
that is made causes shouts of laughter as the game goes merrily on,
until the company feel well acquainted, and are ready to join with
spirit in some harder game. If this description fails to satisfy the
reader that there is plenty of amusement in this simple round game, we
advise him to try it the next time he has a dull company on his hands.
[Illustration: "DO 'LONG NOW."]
[Illustration: "LAWK!"]
End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, May 17, 1881, by Various
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